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curtins · 3 hours ago

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CREAM SODA — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → you've always known that gojo satoru is a real piece of work. arrogant, haughty. definitely has a praise kink for when people always call him 'the strongest.' but you're not even friends anymore, so this isn't any of your business...right?

what you didn't know is just how nasty he is, caging you in front of a mirror to lick away blood that he spilled from the veins of another man, one who dared to touch you.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. secondary love interest in the form of a random oc, jjk lore being mildly twisted, history around the world, in-jujutsu universe (not an au), gojo going feral and batshit bonkers, rough séx, créampíe, INSANE glass-shattering jealousy, hate séx but only a bit, brééding, oràl (f. receiving). enemies to lovers, former friends, PLOT AND WORLD BUILDING BTW this isn't pẃp, éxhibitionísm, mirror séx, overstímulàtion, bratty reader but with a reason to be a hater, working together on a mission, mentions of alcohol and the crime underworld, DEFINITELY a bit dark because reader goes through emotional whiplash, descriptions of a fight and heavy injury, biting because i always somehow write gojo as a vampire type of freak?? the PRIME example of the miscommunication tropes and a case where neither person is in the right...nuance is your friend here, fake bodyguard!gojo, reader wears a dress + makeup for a formal event, angst, hurt, lashing out, some comfort and fluff

excerpt: part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

you know there's going to be a bouncer at the doors, with your face printed on a photo titled: dni! fraud! liar! the world's most incompetent jujutsu sorcerer! would bounce into a criminal's bed at first chance!

word count. 22k!!!!!!! AURKAY!! song inspiration. cream soda — exo, is there someone else — the weeknd

a/n. spent way too long trying to learn ps for the header 😭 wrote this only because of the new grey suit gojo art <3 there's a secondary love interest in this for the ✨ plot ✨ but he's just a character i made up for this story. i would have used one of the other jjk men but it would made it into an au that i didn't feel like expanding on 😭

mp3.. feel that tinglin', that silky smooth cream, each swirl deepens the flavor, babe. baby, go dumb dumb!

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your fluttering pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

the dewy pads of his fingers have come down in a harsh arc, slapping right at your throbbing clit, and the jolt sends such an incredible crack of lightning down your spine that you're bucking your hips back up into his hand, back for more.

"some class? hah, 'm not able to do that now, baby," and you can feel gojo shudder under your touch, as you paw at the linen of his black dress shirt, raking your nails over his pectorals, "not when it f-feels like your pussy is about to, fuck, vacuum my fingers off."

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but it's hard to convey any sense of righteous fury like this. not when he's back to pushing the tapered ends of his long fingers in and out of your tight heat. each brush from the pads of his fingertips leaves you squealing, tugging at the snowy strands on the back of his head.

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

and you're squealing, shocked at how fucking bold gojo satoru has become, whining at how a sharp hiss pulses through you, and you can feel the warmth of blood beginning to bloom and pool over your collarbone.

"shit, 'm sorry, baby. so sorry. but i'm gonna need to see you l-like this," and suddenly gojo snaps away the pussydrunk babble falling from his candied mouth, and he's pressing a searing kiss to your jaw, and the air becomes hazy with the scent of an insanely expensive cologne, cedar and something...sweet, like cardamom.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

not when his thick arm is around your waist, handling you until you're smack bang between his legs, right between dark slacks. and gojo has shifted, so your back is flat against the hard planes of his chest, and your knuckles can only grip at the vanity sink. so your eyes can only see your naked torso twisting in the mirror.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

wait. you need to pause this tape, and do a little rewind.

how did you end up here, getting finger-fucked in a luxury five star suite? by the one man on earth that you swore that you could never stand?

(earlier that day)

the chandeliers had been shimmering overhead like stars, each fine crystal caught the golden light and scattered it across the grand lobby, and it was making your eyes flare and twitch.

this entire hotel felt frozen in time, some opulent relic of the roaring twenties, translated straight into tokyo's beating heart.

it was all so...pristine, and gaudy. and even the air carried that faint scent of hefty chanel no.5 and furniture polish.

but hey, this cheque wasn't coming out of your pocket, so who were you to complain?

that's how you rationalised it to yourself, right after a smartly-dressed waiter had floated past with a tray of shimmering champagne, one that you had easily helped yourself to.

ah, fuck it.

let the bill rack up on yaga's card. the least he could do after volunteering you to the higher ups for this mission.

a thick folder rested in your lap, clipped papers inside threatening to spill over from the sheer volume of information, that made your head spin.

of course, it was all courtesy of the jujutsu administration's obsession with drowning sorcerers in needless bureaucracy. and so you leafed through it idly, your thumb skimming over the crisp edges.

names, places, dates, all laid out in haphazard detail.

what a mess, it was a lot, but not enough to fill in the gaps that gnawed at you. the higher ups never gave you everything, fuck, they hated making it easy. still, your eyes caught onto key phrases.

urgent recall of cursed object. yes, that's why you were here. and not enjoying your saturday afternoon at home.

declaration of most expenses covered, in the instances of losing a limb. fair enough, insurance was honestly hell these days.

gain access to the auction being held by the voiceless. find their leader, naoki sato.

you knew of the voiceless, most higher grade jujutsu sorcerers did. a crime syndicate so shrouded in mystery. operating overseas for decades without so much as a cloudy whisper to the general public.

you made an unimpressed face as you kept reading, crinkling sheets under your fingers. smuggling, extortion, and a great deal of unexplained murders that would leave the cast of criminal minds scratching their heads.

how tasteless. still, you weren't the law, each to their own.

however, something made this case different. it made it your apparent problem.

for the voiceless were not your usual ragtag team of ruffian criminals, intent on scamming the vulnerable and sad.

their ranks comprised of wayward jujutsu sorcerers, with a hearty appetite for special artefacts, including cursed objects.

and now here they were, back on tokyo's soil, their hands covered with more than just the regular mundane crimes that could land a man behind bars for life.

you shifted in the plush, sinking seat. flipped to a page that had been practically painted in the most unforgiving shade of neon yellow highlighter.

ah, so this was the cursed object. raijin's amulet.

there was a grainy, slightly off-centre photograph clipped to the top of the document. the image was not much to look out, all washed colours and shadows that clearly didn't speak highly of the skills of whoever was behind the camera.

a circular pendant, a darkened forged creation of bronze and jade, covered in the soot of the ages gone by. spiralled with intricate carvings that reminded you of swirling storm clouds on a summer's evening.

and at it's centre sat a jagged shard of some precious golden stone, rough-hewn at the edges.

you were certain that this was the cause behind the distorted photography, for a modern camera was simply just not meant to capture such high levels of cursed energy.

there was even a faint shape of a dragon coiled around the pendant's edges, with its claws gripping the frame as if guarding it...or imprisoning it.

you weren't sure which. you're not sure you wanted to know which.

the accompanying notes were sparse, filled with frustrated gaps that left you squinting.

believed to be an ancient relic of the heian era. captured from the treasure hoard of the early medieval sorcerer, ryōmen sukuna, after his death.

huh, you hadn't heard that name since your school-days, back when you had poured over fraying history tomes, trying to pen the perfect essay to beat out suguru's flawless grades.

said to be imbued with the power of the lightning deity, raijin. capable of summoning and manipulating thunder, and disrupting various veils and curtains. last known location: the british museum, 1982. current location: unconfirmed.

clearly not an artefact meant to sit behind public museum glass.

dangerous in the wrong hands, and priceless in the hands of all. this must have been at least leagues above your current pay grade.

your thumb hovered over the corner of the page, bruising the white paper underneath as you scanned over the rest of the text, hoping and looking for a section that would be titled: and here's how to track raijin's amulet down and find it, with no bloodshed, and just in time for dinner!

no such luck.

"figures," you muttered under your breath, shoving the folder shut with a disgusted sigh.

this entire mission reeked of playing politics. for years, the voiceless had operated under the radar of other nations, disguising the tell-tale jujutsu as unexplained natural disasters and accidents.

there had been no intervention. they had been untouchable because no-one had the foreign jurisdiction, nor the guts to intervene.

but now, with the voiceless back on home soil, it seemed the higher ups wanted to make a statement. something like 'hey, we're actually useful at our jobs of protecting the jujutsu world!' and who better to clean up their mess than you and...

gojo satoru.

speak of the devil. you glanced up towards the grand entrance of the hotel lobby, as an unfortunate doorman stood by revolving, glass doors.

your...partner strode in, with dark sunglasses perched on his nose, and you scrunched your nose, taking in his appearance.

despite gojo's striking features that could render anyone speechless, he always looked like an odd bird of prey to you.

hawkish with creepy eyes, like a big snowy owl that had been hit by a curse, transforming him and forcing him to assimilate into the world of humans.

"i wasn't sure if you would come," you called, hoping that you masked the bitterness well that he had arrived, and significantly decreased the quality of your day.

"you wouldn't say that in bed," was gojo's snarky, automated reply, before he gave you a mildly embarrassed look, as if his immature mouth moved faster than his common sense did.

"still, sorry to keep you waiting," and gojo was crushing the heel of his boot into the cream marble of the floor, tapping it, all ridiculously long legs in the same uniform dress pants that you also donned, "traffic was hell."

"you don't even have a license," you grouched with a glare that you hoped was sharp enough to cleave time and space, but you stood up all the same, "and i wasn't waiting, i was working."

click! click!

gojo snapped his fingers, reaching for the folder stacked in your arms, "yes, of course you were, sweets," and he clicked his tongue, "now, why don't you hand that to me, and go check us in? i can look over what i need to do, let's get this done before night falls."

the audacity. the absolute nerve. how so typically gojo. swooping in at the last minute for kill shot, as usual, while others poured through all the paperwork, and did all the mental heavy lifting.

"you mean what we need to do, gojo," you snapped, your scowl deepening, "you're the late one. you go check us in."

gojo arched a pale brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched as though he wished he could just unwalk through those doors now, caught between amusement and exasperation. "you used to be so nice. what happened?"

"tsk! i think you happened, gojo. didn't ask to be stuck here with you."

"ah, so you do think about me, at least. but now you're jus' so difficult all the time."

"fuck off, i'm not difficult!" you shot back, before shrinking at the foul look that an elderly couple had directed your way, muttering something about how youth just didn't know how to act indoors, "i'm just saying it's not fair -"

"fine, whatever. don't care, sweets," gojo interrupted, already rolling big, blue eyes and turning away, "i'll go do it. you just stay nice and comfortable here."

and just like that, after comfortably raising your blood pressure (and heart rate), gojo satoru strode off towards the vast front desk, hands shoved lazily into his pockets, as though the two of you weren't on the clock to hunt down and find a dangerous criminal, his syndicate and a cursed object.

you trailed behind him, resisting the violent urge to grab his stupid sunglasses and fling them across the lobby. or stomp on them.

or just sit on them.

meanwhile, your eyes landed on the last and final page of the file, where a bright pink sticky note stood out sharply against the dull black and white of the case file.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

the words were scrawled in thick, impatient strokes of a black marker. the kind that spoke more of efficiency, than humanity.

typical. there was just nothing that higher ups of the jujutsu world loved more than lopping the head off anyone that they deemed inconvenient. quick, clean and final.

still, this decision wasn't your business, not really.

you looked up to see gojo casually leaning against the counter, and his entire demeanour radiated smooth confidence as he spoke to the receptionist.

the sweet-looking woman had fumbled her worlds almost immediately, and she had dropped her pen twice. and he had caught it with an easy smile and wink that would have made you roll your eyes clean out of your skull.

you wanted to gag.

in less than a minute, gojo had the black keycard in his hand, spinning it between his fingers like some trophy as he sauntered towards the elevators.

you sighed as he stopped in front of you, extending the card with a flourish, like a knight presenting a courtier with a wreath of fresh-cut flowers.

"we're here for a mission, gojo. not to get it wet."

the tips of his ears flushed a bright, vibrant red. but his grin didn't falter as he huffed, and snatched the keycard back. leaving your arm floundering in the air before you dropped it.

"how crude. that's not even what i asked her. but still, you're welcome, sweets," he had said, stepping into the elevator and holding the door open for you with an exaggerated stretch of his arm.

"i didn't say thank you."

gojo smiled, tilting his head in that distracting, no. what? in that irritating manner of his, "no need. i could feel the gratitude radiating off you," and he's crossing his arms against his broad chest in a way that made the tailored uniform seem unfairly snug, "warms my heart."

"what if you don't have a heart?

for a fleeting moment, something unreadable flashed in gojo's eyes, irritation easily — but something unrecognisable, but he must have smoothed it away with practised ease. for that same cocky grin returned like clockwork, infuriatingly charming and just as insincere.

"what if it only beats for you?" he shot back, wiggling his fingers dramatically, and the motion was so over-the-top that it leaned closer to sleazy than heartstopping.

"now i'm worried, you need to get shoko to check that out. sounds like a serious health issue."

"your tender concern for my well-being is what keeps my blood pumping," and you know that gojo has little regard for the personal space for others, the way that the distance between you is closing once more, in a way that makes your own pulse flicker.

"please," and you take a deliberate step back to reclaim your own space, "if i wanted you gone, i wouldn't waste my time hoping for a heart attack. i'd do it myself."

gojo shrugs, tilting his head like you had just told him a sweet joke, "you're cute when you're homicidal, y'know that?"

"and you're insufferable all the time. we all have our talents."

gojo's barked out a laugh, and the sound is annoyingly genuine. it has you grinding your teeth together, making your jaw tight.

"hey, gojo," you swivel back to the towering bean-pole behind you, leaning against a steel bar.

"mhm, what?"

"i'll give you a hundred thousand yen if you keep your mouth shut during the entire elevator ride," you mutter, staring at the ground floor map, and up to where your suite was meant to be, hands fiddling over the buttons.

"deal."

you glance back, "that easy? clan money running low, gojo?"

gojo sighs, shaking his (ridiculous) snow-cone hair, "you have no idea. spent it all on a sweet talkin' girl who kicked me to the curb. even took the dog with her. who takes the fucking dog?"

despite yourself and your iron-clad resolution to not validate gojo satoru in anything, you snort, the first genuine laugh he's pulled out of you.

you choose not to notice how his eyes suddenly seem a shade brighter, as you snicker, "you're so ridiculous."

he doesn't reply as you press an index finger into the cool metal of the elevator button, and you turn around to see him sadly miming out his broke plight, with a sack of imaginary things over his shoulder, jingling the few coins he has.

tsk. you bite your lip to stop the corners of your lips lifting up to match gojo's own, wrinkling your nose in faux distaste as you spin back around, with gritted teeth. away from the mild bane of your existence.

true to his word, and shockingly so, gojo stayed silent through the elevator ride. mostly.

you caught his restless sighs, the shuffle of his ridiculously polished boots, and the occasional sharp intake of breath like he was simply dying to say something, but kept biting it back.

good. for once, it was nice to make gojo satoru stew.

the elevator dinged, and you had already stepped out, planning to ditch him in the suite, but clearly, gojo had other ideas.

"alright, sweets," he said, hand extended, "i won the bet. hundred thousand yen, i can take a cheque too."

you stopped short, glaring at his outstretched (sculpted) hand.

"right now? just as we're gonna plan how to catch a criminal? can't we do a pay later type of thing?"

gojo's responding grin was wolfish, and his voice dropped enough to make you bristle, "sure. pay later, with a kiss."

your groan must have echoed down the hall, and without thinking, you shoved past him. your shoulder colliding with his chest in a way that was deeply satisfying.

"my kisses," you snapped, refusing to look back at him, "are worth way more than a hundred thousand yen."

gojo didn't reply immediately, no. and for a second, you thought had finally managed to shut him up enough for a moment's peace to gather the thoughts that the white-haired man always managed to unravel.

but when you dared to glance back over your shoulder, his sharp gaze was fixed on you, and his lips were pressed together oddly — the faintest dusting of cherry pink peeking out underneath his sunglasses, and falling over his cheeks.

nary a peep from gojo then, save for him rushing past you to slot the keycard into the door. but holy fuck, the sheer luxury of this suite almost made you forget that gojo satoru even existed.

sleek dark woods, glowing orange accents, and a massive window that offered a panoramic view of tokyo's skyline. and then, there was the bed.

ridiculous in its decadence. a king-sized masterpiece, draped in plush linens that looked softer than the clouds dotting the afternoon sky. framed by polished ebony bedposts that gleamed in the warm light of the suite. the mattress was practically calling out to you, to sink your back into it.

wait, where was the other bed?

"nope! absolutely not," you blurted, spinning on your heel to face gojo who had sauntered in after you, pausing mid-step and clearly, equally caught off-guard with a stunned expression on his face — before morphing into something maddeningly smug.

"what?" gojo said, leaning casually against the doorframe, "it's a bed. you've seen one before, right?"

you tried to speak in a way that wouldn't quite make it show that you felt like your tongue was lead, jabbing a finger at the bed as though it had personally offended you, "there's only one!"

gojo's lips quirked upwards, his blue eyes gleaming with that irritating mix of amusement and mischief, most likely derived from your displeasure, "now look at that, we can count to ten. baby steps."

"don't start with me," you snapped, "i'm not crashing out there. i'd rather sleep in the hallway."

gojo tilted his head, the white tufts of his hair falling around his face, as though he were considering the suggestion seriously, "not sure the hotel staff would appreciate you loitering in their five-star corridors. won't stop you though, sweets."

"you can sleep on the couch," you try to offer helpfully, relishing in how it's his turn to scowl at you.

gojo's glancing towards the sleek leather sofa in the corner, most likely worth more than your monthly rent, "tempting," he drawls, "but i don't think that thing was designed for someone with legs this long," and he's slapping his hands on his thighs, and you do your very best to not track your stare down.

"then curl up like the overgrown house cat you are -"

"fuck you mean by that?"

"or sleep on the floor!"

"i'm liking these options less and less."

but then gojo straightens, and you're starting to see a small tick reach to the corner of his bright eyes, the faintest hint of irritation seeping through his drawl, "you know, for someone so desperate to avoid me, you spend a lot of time wondering where i'm gonna sleep."

you hate the traitorous flush heating up your face, "i'm thinking about it because you're my problem."

"well i hope i'm at least your favourite problem," gojo murmurs, brushing past you to toss his dark bag onto the bed.

"so, what's it gonna be?" gojo's voice was a lazy purr, patting the mattress beside him with a grin that could have launched a thousand arguments, "join me, or keep fighting a losing battle? because -" he faked a yawn, "i think i'm starting to get a bit sleepy."

"sleepy? you're a grown man, and it's barely three in the afternoon."

gojo arches a pale brow, and you have to force yourself to stop staring at the pink curve of his lips, "and? scared you won't be able to resist me in the middle of the night?"

"you should be scared you'll wake up with a pillow smothering your face."

gojo sighs, melodramatic and loud, rolling over onto his back, "i'd rather be smothered by -"

"gojo!"

his laugh is low and rich, and it vibrates in the air in a way that make your teeth itch, and your eyes roll, desparate to change the subject and actually get back on track.

you shove the hefty file in his direction, letting him flounder to grab a hold of it, "last page. naoki sato."

gojo's entire demeanor shifts, and falls under the mention of the name, eyes a touch darker, and suddenly serious in a way that almost makes you regret being on the clock. but he's pushed himself up from the bed, his legs dangling off the edge.

"what about him?"

you frowned, still turning over the situation in your mind, "well, he's supposedly working out of this district right, i mean, even this hotel? but why? i always thought crime bosses had creepy lairs in dark alleyways or something. and not," you gesture to the five-star architecture around you, "this."

gojo's broad shoulders shrug in that lazy way of his, like everything was beneath him, but there was something else flickering behind his perched sunglasses, "i've never even met him. just heard of him," but gojo seems to be chewing each word, as if choosing them carefully, "but what i've heard? not your typical criminal? he flies high, lives the wild life out in the open, rich and shameless."

you privately held back any biting comment that came to you as easy as breathing, about gojo also being the epitome of rich...and shameless. time and place, yeah?

gojo, thank the lucky stars, had not noticed you fighting demons to keep a straight face, "but then every so often sato vanishes off the radar, and then, bam!" your partner splayed his fingers, "he strikes again. always showing in a different place. the united states, france, england, egypt..."

you raise an eyebrow, tapping at your phone, "egypt?"

"egyptian artefacts are ridiculously powerful, sweets. i mean, on a whole other level. they aren't linked with y'know...jujutsu," he gestures vaguely between the two of you, "but whatever they've got is ancient and ridiculously potent. last the higher ups heard, naoki sato managed to get his hands on an old obelisk."

you shake your head at the prospect, humouring gojo, "whatever for?"

"whatever twisted things he does in his free time, fuck if i know. but of course, he couldn't control it. instead, it summoned the spirit of a massive serpent, killed a bunch of innocent civilians."

you have the faintest collection of the mythos surrounding an ancient serpent, and the thought makes you shudder, "wouldn't the local authorities have arrested him for that?"

gojo pushes his sunglasses up his head, so you're now looking back at unblinking blue eyes ringed by white lashes, "how do you arrest a guy who's practically a ghost? they couldn't even find him after all that shit. besides, his technique is something else. enhance. practically has control over every cell in your body."

you nod slowly, hoping that you're piercing it all together correctly, "so this auction is because he's got more of these artefacts? like raijin's amulet?"

gojo nods sharply, and you're struck by the intensity of big blue eyes with whorls of storm clouds lingering between his gaze, "i guess even villainous criminals want to make profit. but we can get a front row seat to whatever he's planning next."

"and stop him before that."

"right. that's what i said."

your frown deepens, "how the fuck does an entire auction stay hidden from the public?"

after all, you had scoured the floorplan of this hotel from base to rooftop, and not a single room or corner would accomodate naoki sato, and the voiceless that follow him.

gojo shrugs with infuriating nonchalance, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of the bed, "there's jujutsu that can create entire illusions. beneath this very hotel lies an entrance to a hidden ballroom, but it's been in and out of use for decades. we jus' need to slip in, find sato, and maybe shake him a few times until he spills the amulet's location."

you cross your arms, and the unfortunate truth lingers on your tongue, "if it were that easy, the higher ups wouldn't have sent you with me as backup."

"was that a compliment for me? careful, you might actually start liking me now."

and at your affronted expression, laugher is spilling out gojo satoru, sharp and cocky and awfully infectious.

you hated the sound, not because it wasn't nice, but because it was. too rich, too easy. the kind of laugh, from the strongest sorcerer to walk the earth, that made you wonder if ever took a damn thing seriously. with the unfortunate side effect of questioning why it was so annoyingly attractive at the same time.

nobody should get to look that good while being such an unbearable ass. it was unfortunate, you thought grimly, how much you liked seeing him laugh though.

"i don't think i'd ever like you at all, gojo."

but alas, the world has a cruel way of making you wish that the earth swallowed you whole. and your heart and mind certainly aren't on speaking terms with each other to coordinate properly. for the barb flies out of your mouth like an uncontrolled reflex, a rogue arrow hitting its mark.

and you're left grimacing as gojo's smile stills. not vanishing completely, but frozen while something cooler and sharper slips into his gaze. the awkward silence that follows is loud enough to make you wince and pray that a lightning bolt strikes you down right now.

gojo gives a quiet cough, and you're wondering just how much of his nonchalant facade he has left intact. fuck, you were a bit of an ass yourself.

"ah, gojo. i didn't mean -" you started, stumbling over the words, desperate to backpedal, if only for the sake of the mission. right?

"don't strain yourself pretending," gojo cuts you off, and you're mildly stung by the smooth edge of venom coating his voice, despite his relaxed smile, "let's just get this job done, yeah? it's just us two here because no-one else could put up with you. i was the only one left who actually wanted to try."

well. ouch, that was a low blow. motherfucker.

your jaw tighten, and for a moment, all you can do is stare into vibrant blue eyes. surely, that wasn't true...right? and how awful that the sharp look in his eyes softened into a smug satisfaction as he registered how his own barb had found his mark.

now, gojo satoru is leaning back with an air of victory, crossing his arms as if to bask in it. talk about drawing more blood from a wound than necessary.

"you're awful, gojo," you bit out, praying that whatever tremor lives in your throat is not enough to appear in your voice.

"yes, i know. you say that all the time."

it was almost tragic, you thought bitterly, how in those fleeting few minutes, you had found gojo satoru bearable. likeable even. insightful, in his own smug way.

but now, the two of you were back to square one, staring each other down with walls firmly back in place.

sure, your quip had been mildly unnecessary, but it wasn't like he hadn't heard your blithe and bland comments by now?

but still, gojo's words gnawed at you. the idea that no one else wanted to put up with you, except him, of all people, burrowed deeper than it had any right to.

maybe it was petty, but you weren't about to let gojo satoru have the last word.

"remember that the higher ups want naoki sato executed," you said, breaking the terse silence.

gojo didn't even glance up from the file he'd been pretending to skim, his long fingers casually flipping a page. and that nonchalance made your stomach churn with irritation.

when he finally looked up, his expression was a mix of curiosity, and disdain, as if you had become a particularly stubborn puzzle that he'd decided was not worth solving, "yes, i know that too. so what?"

"you and i both know you've had trouble executing criminals in the past."

a calculated jab, sharper than they needed to be. and you saw the impact hit almost immediately. gojo's jaw tightened, and the glint in his frosty blue eyes disappeared, replaced by something darker, furious even.

suguru geto was still well and alive, often appearing on television as a friendly priest who would cure one of all their ails such as lower back pain or bad headaches, for the low price of joining the ranks of his organisation (read: cult). but he still remained a sore point for...everyone. you, included.

gojo, especially.

and now the air between you shifted, chilling like a winter draft had snuck into the room. your eyes fell on gojo's knuckles as they tightened around the file, his expression stony.

you shouldn't have felt proud of yourself for getting under his skin, for pulling a genuine reaction from him. but you did. you'd found a crack in his flawless armour, without needing to bypass infinity.

and it was satisfying.

"f-fuck you," gojo said finally, the razor edge in his voice was matched only by the glare he pinned on you.

you crossed your arms, doing your best to feign indifference despite the adrenaline surging through you. ignoring how you felt an awful pit in your stomach sprout, rendering you rather nauseous, and quoting his previous words, "don't strain yourself pretending it's not true."

gojo satoru's glower could have melted steel, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd gone too far. but he stood, slowly, his movements deliberate as he slammed the file shut with a resounding snap.

you watched as he snatched up his smaller bag, and swung the door open with enough force that you were surprised that it didn't fall off its hinges, "just be ready by the time i get back. 'm gonna take a walk."

and you were left, alone, in a room that suddenly felt so much more suffocating.

you weren't sure how long it had been since gojo had stormed out, leaving the room icy in his absence. you hadn't moved from your spot by the door, though you told yourself that you were entirely fine.

arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin, defiant line. but even as you stared at the dark panels of the door, the lie began to unravel.

you told yourself that you just didn't care for gojo satoru. that you didn't like how he was too loud, too reckless, too overwhelming, a force that just didn't fit into the neat confines of your world.

the heat rising to your cheeks must have betrayed you, as did the tight knot in your chest. it had been...not your wisest choice to lash out at him, or to even bring up his name. suguru geto, a wound that would never close for anyone.

but more than that, you hated the memory of his expression just before he left. hurt, and anger. and something far more raw.

he would come back, you knew that much. gojo was much too dutiful to leave a mission and abandon a chance to do some good in this world. it should have been a comfort, but it did little to ease you. instead, that certainty only twisted the guilt tighter in between your ribcage.

finally, you yanked the door open, fuelled by an impulse you didn't care to name. you wanted to catch him outside, mid-pace and brooding. just so you could say...something. anything.

but the hallway was empty, stark and silent, with only the dim flicker of warm light as your witness. you bit your tongue as your stomach churned sourly with disappointment.

and instead, you just slammed the door shut, letting the sound reveberate with just as much force that gojo had slammed the door with, on his way out. you leaned against the wood, closing your eyes as you did your level best to swallow that lump of regret making a home in your throat.

pacing helped for about...three minutes. shuffling through the case files on the table did nothing but remind you of why you were here, why you had both been sent. after all, was this mission not bigger than you, or him? was this not about bringing naoki sato to justice?

it didn't feel that way.

your gaze landed on the garment bag handing from the chair, untouched from when you had pulled it out earlier, back when gojo had been inviting you...to bed.

sort of.

you unzipped the bag with (mildly) trembling hands, letting the fabric spill into your grasp. no doubt that the dress was beautiful, a masterpiece of icy, powder blue and shimmering sequins that caught the light like scattered stars.

well, this had certainly been worth half your paycheck.

your fingers brushed over the delicate embroidery, and for a moment, you felt a mild sting of your own hypocrisy and yearning heart. you accused gojo of being cold, distant and unfeeling, and yet here you were, holding a dress that reminded you of him in every way. the pale blue of the fabric, like the frost in his storm-eyes when they rested on you for too long.

if you ever came face to face with cupid, you would beat him with a baseball bat.

you sighed, dropping the dress onto the bed before gingerly stepping out of your uniform, as cool air stung your skin.

what had you been thinking, treating gojo like that? he didn't deserve your anger, not truly. you knew how much your former classmate carried, how much he gave himself to this cursed and thankless world.

but of course, the little pronged-devil on your shoulder whispered around the shell of your ear. he often drew equal blood from stinging cuts, no-one wanted to put up with you, anyway.

still, there was no use in showing up to a gathering of some of the world's most rich, wealthy and seedy looking like a hollow and shaken ghost. and this mission was just not about gojo, it was about the greater good of the jujutsu world, and that's what you repeated in your head like a mantra, as you swiped plush-red across your cheeks and lips.

a diamond necklace around your throat was the final touch. well, you say diamond, but the truth was more...cheap. still, the strand shone in linked chains of pretty crystals. and that had still been a minor fortune for one who lived on a jujutsu paycheck.

the hours had stretched the afternoon into evening, settling a fragile calm over the suite that made you ache to stretch your limbs out, and take in some fresh air.

but the silence was shattered by a sharp knock at the door, purposeful and deliberate. and it made you freeze, hands still resting on the straps of your glitzy shoes, a frown knitting your brows.

gojo had the keycard, did he not? but who else would be banging your door down?

with a sigh, you stood and lifted the hem of your dress as you crossed the room. opening the door with every intention of scolding him for whatever drama he was dragging in this time.

instead the words just about died a sad and lonely death on your tongue.

gojo satoru.

for a brief second, your thoughts emptied entirely, as though he had cast infinite void right over you, leaving you staring with a heart that hammered like a caged bird.

gone was his usual, drab uniform. instead, he had swapped the dull fabric for a sleek, black dress shirt that clung just right, paired with a crisp, grey jacket that framed his broad shoulders.

you tried to not let your gaze linger on the open gap right under the white tie that hung slightly loosened from his neck, where silk kissed creamy skin.

but gojo’s face was unreadable, distant and cool. you hated how his mere presence always seemed to tilt the world off its axis.

and you blinked, forcing your mouth to close, and you stepped back to let him in.

"you’re late. again," you snapped, but your voice lacked its usual venom, tempered by the sharp edges of minor guilt that refused to settle in you.

"whatever. ‘m here now, aren’t i?" gojo’s tone was casual, but his eyes lingered a second too long, leaving your skin prickling with self-conscious awareness.

it seemed that the universe needed to hit you with some karmic intervention, and you decided to take the rare moral high ground, "about earlier," you began, trying to steady yourself, "i shouldn’t have said -"

"forget it, sweets," gojo interrupted with a shrug, though his jaw was tight, "i’m not keen on hearing excuses. i get it."

you bristled, biting back the immense urge to shove him, an urge that becoming disturbingly frequent, "i wasn’t making excuses," sounding out each word slow and deliberate. anger simmering under the surface at his holier-than-thou attitude, "that was an apology."

that made gojo pause, and now he fully turned to you, expression shifting. though it was hard to read, caught between painful acknowledgement and absurd pride that would include him admitting that he was affected by what you said.

"tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

gojo slid a pair of tinted sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them up his nose, smooth and practised, "in a room full of the filthy rich and tastelessly overdressed?" his pink mouth twitched, "you’ll fit in perfectly."

gojo was right. this was just…tacky.

the ground floor of the building had been nothing but a sleek, cold lifeless maze of marble, and now he had led you down into what could only be described as a scene for criminals with bad taste. an abandoned parking lot stretched out in front of you, a grimy stretch of concrete that left you expecting a quiet dead end.

until gojo waved his hand, and the illusion clearly met for non-sorcerer eyes shattered.

before you, a set of massive double doors emerged, seemingly from nowhere, and the lifting of the veil had left you disoriented, nauseous. but when the doors swung open, you almost felt like you were stepping into a warped fever dream.

this room inside was the most bizarre mixture of garish opulence that you had ever seen. gold…everything. the walls plastered in a deep red, like someone had dipped the entire place in velvet swathes and then covered it with more gold leaf.

plush, overstuffed settees sat like soft, jewel-toned thrones in every corner, and glass boxes lined the walls, each holding what looked like nothing more than expensive junk, tacky figurines and diamond-encrusted trinkets.

it was the kind of place you’d absolutely expect a mob boss to call home after a particularly long, indulgent afternoon making questionable life choices.

the hall reeked of wealth, the kind that demanded to be seen. opulence dripped from every corner — gilded fixtures, crystalline chandeliers, and glass displays showcasing treasures that screamed money but whispered nothing of taste. you twitched as you passed a goblet encrusted with enough jewels to buy a small city-state. the thought of how much it probably cost made your stomach twist.

"focus," gojo muttered at your side, his tone clipped. he squinted slightly, his sunglasses doing little to shield his six eyes from the garish light that spilled over the room like liquid gold., and you could tell it was a bit...much for his senses, making him blink rapidly. "we’ll sweep the displays, see if the amulet’s here."

you tilted your head, gesturing toward his snowy mop of hair, the unruly strands falling messily over his face and grazing the edge of his glasses. "and you’re sure they won’t recognise you, in this whole...circus?"

gojo's responding glance was sharp, flat, and utterly devoid of humour.

"most of these people wouldn’t recognise a threat if it was biting them in the ass," he said, voice low and laced with disdain. "they’re not sorcerers. just your garden-variety rich and bored — criminals, trust fund brats, maybe a politician trying to look cultured. the kind of people who buy antiques because they match their curtains and makes them look good for their friends."

the corner of your mouth betrayed you, twitching upward at his cutting dismissal of the glittering nonsense around you. he had hit the nail on the head, making contempt seem like an art form.

and worse, you hated how there was something almost…sexy about it.

the thought hit you like a slap, and you forced it down immediately. gojo and sexy didn’t belong in the same sentence. not in the same universe. fuck, not even as a passing joke.

"charmed as i am by your high opinion of humanity," you said dryly, trying to ground yourself in sarcasm, "maybe don’t make it obvious you hate everyone here. we're not here to arrest every person in this room."

gojo snorted softly, his lips curving into what might have been a smirk — or at least the ghost of one. "you think so little of me. i don’t hate everyone." his eyes flicked toward you, just for a second, before returning to the vast hall ahead.

it wasn’t much. barely a glance of electric blue. but it was enough to send your pulse into a sprint, and fuck him, he had to know it. you turned your attention to the nearest display, praying he didn’t notice the warmth blooming in your cheeks.

traitorous.

"let’s just find the amulet, and sato. and get out of here," you said briskly, your voice a shade too sharp.

"mhm," gojo's voice was infuriatingly calm, but when you looked up, his gaze wasn’t on the displays. it was on you.

"you look lost."

a voice, smooth and low, slid over you like silk, stopping you cold in your tracks. it hadn't come from gojo by your side, thank the heavens above, but it didn't make your heart any steadier. you turned towards the source, and your stomach did a three-point flip.

well. hello, gorgeous.

the type of good-looking that just felt unfair. the type that made you forget your name for half a second, and then hate yourself for it. the strnger stood out against the room of puffed-up men in overpriced suits, glittering with real diamonds of their cuff-links, and rolled cigars in their hands.

your eyes fell on dark auburn strands that fell in perfectly tousled strands over his forehead, and a tailored black suit that hugged a slender waist.

"i hope you didn't wander into the wrong hall," the stranger said, curling his lips into a faint smile, fraught with suspicion as it was.

you forced yourself not to stare — at an absurdly sharp jawline, at big brown eyes. but words were a different matter entirely. you struggled to conjure them, grasping for anything remotely coherent.

you settled on an appropriate response.

"um. no, we didn’t."

not your finest moment. not even close.

before you could mentally regroup with a few brain cells, a sharp jolt yanked you back to reality. you sucked in a sharp breath as gojo's long fingers pinched the underside of your arm, a deliberate sting that left you glaring at him.

he didn’t even bother to meet your eyes.

his entire focus was fixed on the stranger, his posture taut with unspoken tension, gojo's jaw clenched so tight you thought he might crack a perfect tooth.

the air shifted subtly, a faint hum of energy emanating from gojo. you knew that hum. it meant trouble. gojo, ever the master of simmering hostility, was gearing up for something, and he was looking weirdly agitated.

and you found it tasteless to jump the first person you had run into here.

"i usually know most of the guests at my events," the stranger continued, his voice calm, unbothered — but there was an edge to it, like he already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked.

oh.

you felt your stomach plummet as recognition dawned.

naoki sato.

no wonder gojo looked ready to snap someone in half. naoki wasn’t just anyone — he was the head of the voiceless. the host of this auction. the man whose fortune was built on enough shady dealings to fill a large library. the one who had more blood on his hands than those who had been dealt life sentences.

one of the most wanted jujutsu criminals in the world.

"you've — " gojo started, his voice sharp, but you cut him off with a forced, almost too-bright smile.

"you've thrown quite the party," you said, your words tripping over themselves as you elbowed gojo subtly, hoping to god he’d take the hint. "i’m actually quite new to the area. just exploring, hoping to find something good tonight."

gojo let out a low grunt, a sound that promised retribution later. you ignored him and plastered on a wider smile, one you hoped would distract from your partner's upcoming reversal: red.

"and, ah. this is my bodyguard...genji," you added, giving gojo's arm a firm retributive pinch through the fabric of his jacket.

the look he shot you could've melted steel, but you held your ground, determined not to let him ruin this.

if for once, he could take your plan into account, a great deal of bloodshed could be avoided.

naoki's faint cherry smile widened, bemused, "your…bodyguard?" he echoed, gaze flickering to gojo satoru.

gojo who stood like a coiled spring, gojo who certainly was no method actor. his icy glare practically speaking volumes of 'i will burn this room down.'

"well," naoki drawled, his tone almost playful now, and you flushed, "i hope you find what you’re looking for here."

behind him, his entourage, a cadre of hulking men stuffed into suits barely containing their bulk, followed with synchronised precision. they looked more like walking fortresses than bodyguards, with their cold and suspicious eyes cutting through the room as they passed.

one of them shot you an odd look, and you forced yourself to feign interest in a nearby display of sapphire-encrusted forks.

the moment the criminal was out of earshot, gojo leaned down, "genji? really?"

you shrugged, ignoring how you felt your nerves fray. and refusing to meet him half-way, "what? okay, i panicked. it was the first name i thought of."

"yeah, that was so convincing," gojo muttered darkly beside you, and you caught some bitten off words about how he was never going on a mission with you again, how yaga should never have roped him into this.

all things you blithely ignored.

you didn’t need to look at him to know he was furious. it rolled off him in waves, the tension in his posture, the barely audible hum of cursed energy still crackling under the surface.

"we don't even know where the amulet is. and imagine if we show up in front of yaga without it. you can do whatever you like with him after we get our hands on the cursed object," you whispered back, pretending to study the ridiculous cutlery with exaggerated focus.

gojo lowered his head, as though he suddenly saw the worth in gemstones embedded in cutlery, but just enough so he could glower at you. "you're flirting," he hissed, "i could have blasted through half this room, and just finished the job by now."

you coughed and hackled, "not all of us think effective battles are fought with a hollow purple."

"and not all of us,” gojo bit back, "feel the need to blush like schoolgirls the second someone bats an eyelash at us."

heat shot through you, part anger, part something you didn’t want to name. "blush?” you snapped. "i wasn’t blushing."

"you just wanted to jump his bones. thought we weren't here to get it wet."

"i'm not entertaining this conversation," but your voice was mildly higher pitched, drawing attention, "is that why you were there? standing like an idiot, or a jealous ex-boyfriend?"

gojo's sneer faltered, just for a split second, but it was enough to make your heart lurch with a strange, vindictive triumph.

"i wasn’t jealous," he said, "i was doing my job. y'know, being a jujutsu sorcerer. bringing a criminal to justice."

you opened your mouth, ready to retort, but no words came. because he wasn’t entirely wrong, and that infuriated you more than anything.

so instead, you lifted your hand, placing it firmly on his shoulder, onto the crisp and fine fabric of his jacket. you didn't miss the way he stiffened, briefly disarmed.

"look, i've got this. just stay close."

gojo's jaw tightened, and you could feel the unspoken protest simmering there. before he could get a word in, you turned away and called out.

"hey! naoki!"

the red-haired man stopped mid-stride, turning his head back toward you with a quizzical look. the confident words you’d planned evaporated the moment his sharp, brown eyes pinned you in place.

"i mean, naoki sato. mr. sato," you fumbled, mentally kicking yourself.

brilliant start. truly one of jujutsu tech's finest.

naoki raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from confusion to faint amusement. his gaze flicked to gojo, who had crossed his arms like a fortress of disdain and immense ill-will.

"found something you like?" naoki asked smoothly.

you ignored the huff that escaped the white-haired man next to you, and forced a smile, "actually, i was hoping you could help me choose something out. i'm not an expert here, and there's just so much to see."

naoki's bodyguards shifted, their expressions darkening as if you’d committed some unspoken faux pas. but the crime boss merely tilted his head, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"ah, well," he said, drawing the word out lazily, "i don’t usually get this forward with my clients, but i suppose i'll make an exception."

his eyes slid once again to gojo, who was now glowering at a waiter hovering too close to his personal space, on the edges of infinity. "your bodyguard," naoki added helpfully, "can walk behind you. perhaps he'd like a drink to keep him occupied."

gojo's snarl could have peeled garish paint off the walls, "i don't want it."

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the stubborn ass.

instead, you pasted on a smile, tight and sweet, and shot gojo a look that could cut glass, "our host is offering you something. you want that drink, genji."

"i don’t want cream soda," gojo muttered, all mulish in his six foot three glory.

gritting your teeth, you flashed naoki a helpless look, like what can you do? bodyguards, am i right?

and you reached for the waiter's tray, grabbing a tall glass of the offending soda and thrusting it into gojo's warm hand. then you leaned in, your voice a whisper, "take it. smile and act normal. ten minutes, that’s all i need."

for a moment, his blue eyes locked on yours, a storm of irritation twirling in them. you were now close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, close enough to notice the faintest hitch in his breath.

but gojo, for once, didn’t argue. with a final glare, he downed half the glass in one long, defiant gulp, his adam’s apple bobbing as he drank.

naoki laughed, watching the scene unfold with thinly veiled amusement, "you're very kind to the help. shall we?"

you shot gojo satoru one last look — a mix of triumph and warning —before stepping forward.

but your partner, predictably, looked like he'd rather swallow glass than stand a moment longer here. still, bodyguard is as bodyguard does, and he trailed after you like a reluctant shadow.

"i must admit," naoki began, his brown eyes catching the glittering lights as they swept over you, "it's rare to see someone so beautiful at these things. i think i would have remembered seeing you before, too. i'm usually stuck with old men trying to swindle me out of my fortune."

a flush climbed up your neck, unwelcome and irritating at what must have been calculated words, enough to flatter and also to disarm.

behind you, gojo audibly scoffed, clearly abandoning all manner of proper etiquette. you glanced over your shoulder to see him gripping the stem of a champagne flute, his knuckles white. the empty glass of cream soda had been abandoned in favour of something stronger.

he caught your eye and rolled his, making a slicing gesture at his neck followed by a pointed hurry up motion.

"ignore him," you murmured to naoki, pushing forward.

naoki’s eyes gleamed with amusement, easily unbothered as he gestured for you to continue walking. "does your bodyguard always look like he’s seconds away from murder, or is this special treatment for me?"

you didn’t dare look back at gojo, “he’s just protective," you said carefully.

naoki chuckled, "protective, sure. but of his job...or you?"

the words struck a nerve you refused to acknowledge, so you pressed the conversation forward. ignoring the jitter that erupted in your stomach.

"can i ask...," you said, tilting your head just enough to feign casual curiosity, "are these all cursed objects? or just pretty trinkets?"

naoki's amusement didn’t falter, but his gaze sharpened, assessing you like you were a puzzle he was only now beginning to piece together.

"why?” he asked smoothly, "are you interested in jujutsu? i thought you were here to...browse."

fuck, caught, but not completely.

you played it off with a small shrug. "some members of my family dabble in jujutsu," you said, letting a sliver of truth escape, but letting the rest of your words drip with lies, "i can only see curses, i'm not a sorcerer. but most of my family still hates me for how i was born."

behind you, gojo shifted, his movements a touch sharper than before. he hadn’t known that, hadn't known the small truth that you had snuck into your words.

but naoki's expression softened, his smile more thoughtful now. "that’s rare. and often not appreciated, i imagine.”

you hesitated, cautiously, but nodded. "not by them, no."

"i understand. my parents hated jujutsu. thought it was unnatural, and against the way of the world. my grandfather...he was the only one who didn't," and there's a quiet sincerity threading naoki sato's words, "he raised me when my parents refused to. at least, until he passed."

something in his story tugged at you — a familiarity you hadn’t expected. your family’s disdain for your own jujutsu, their rejection, mirrored in his words. it was unsettling, but oddly not unwelcome.

"i’m sorry about your grandfather," you said softly.

"and i, about your family,” naoki replied, a calm mask settling over his features once more, reminding you so painfully of the sorcerer who trailed behind you, "no-one should be made to feel lesser, sorcerer or not."

you caught your lip between your teeth, hoping the red stain didn't catch onto your teeth, "i thought most sorcerers hated humans."

naoki shrugged, "we aren't all that different. all flesh and blood with temporary lives."

oddly wise words from a mass murderer, thief and criminal.

you glanced over at gojo again, and just as you predicted, his scowl deepened and the glass looked like it was about a shatter in his hands. if looks could kill, naoki sato would be the first to go, no questions asked, followed by you.

naoki snickered, "your shadow grows restless."

"ignore him, please," you muttered, stepping closer to a glass case to distract yourself, "what’s this?"

naoki followed, stepping closer so you could catch the scent of expensive almond and saffron, "ah," he said, gesturing at the artefact inside, "a blade, from ming dynasty china. the jade serpent on the hilt grants its wearer the ability to control minds. some say it can even raise the dead."

the claim sent a shiver down your spine, but you masked it with feigned interest, nodding as naoki moved on.

"and here," he continued, pointing to a golden ring, with an oddly boyish grin for someone dealing in murderous items, "the lion's eyes. said to see through any veil, any curse. the last treasure of the dynasty of the pharoahs."

you tried to listen, but gojo's presence loomed larger with every word. his disdain for naoki sato, his barely concealed anger at the stolen objects— it was all too palpable. when you glanced back, his scowl had deepened, and the champagne glass in his hand looked on the verge of shattering.

if looks could kill, naoki sato would already be six feet under. you would be next on the list.

you swallowed hard, turning back to naoki sato and pointing at the next display. "and this?"

naoki pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, "the broken english crown. apparently worn by the last king to die on the battlefield, and i haven't tried it on," he shares this with you, with a conspiratorial smile, "but legends say it fractures the bones of anyone deemed not powerful enough to wear it."

this criminal was not what you had expected at all. it was hard to reconcile the image of a hardened criminal with years of ruthless ambition, with this effortless charm and disarming way of making you lose the blurred line of correct propriety. you tried not to stare at how the warm light caught his auburn hair, like the autumn leaves in the dappled sun.

and yet, it wasn’t just his looks that threw you off. it was the way he carried himself — like he had nothing to prove and everything to hide. dangerous in a different way, one that was far harder to guard against.

it reminded you of gojo satoru.

"you know, i have to admit," naoki said, gesturing to the gilded displays around him, "most of this stuff? tacky as hell. but then, you would be surprised what most people would pay for tacky."

from a swindler, fraud and scammer? you were quite sure.

"funny, coming from someone whose livelihood depends on it. isn't that gaudy by association?"

naoki winked, and you averted your gaze from long brown lashes fluttering against soft skin, "touché. but people don't want to just buy the artefact, or the cursed object. they want the story. that shit's priceless."

you swallowed, focusing on how gojo was trying to draw your attention to a glass case hidden by all the others, and you hoped you weren't squinting, "so, you're just a storyteller then?"

but beside you, naoki sato tilted his head, "you could say that."

you thought of the clipped photos printed into the file. some in black and white, and some in raging shades of colour. where naoki sato's hands had painted entire buildings in shades of sticky red, and heads rolled on the floor. where his enhance technique could burst arteries and lungs, leaving people in pieces on the floor.

"sounds dramatic," you said, though your voice came out quieter than you intended.

"life's dramatic, and too short to not take what i want," naoki replied with a faint smile, his hand lightly brushing your waist as he guided you further past long tables.

you leaned into it without thinking, a tiny movement that made a creamy, berry flush paint over naoki's features. and the sorcerer's laugh was warm, low, like he’d already won something you didn’t realise was at stake.

behind you, a sharp cough broke the moment.

gojo.

you let your lips curl into a faint smile and leaned into naoki's just a fraction more, with a very deliberate look, one that spoke of triumph and having tamed a beast.

gojo's scowl deepened, his shoulders taut with barely restrained frustration, and he started mouthing at you, silent as his lips parted. if you read his mouth carefully, well...

he was calling you rather unflattering names.

"what's that?" but it was gojo's voice that roughly cut through the air, like gravel grinding underfoot. his shaded eyes were fixed on the glass case tucked in the corner.

you followed his gaze, past his outstretched arm, and your stomach twisted.

raijin's amulet.

the cursed object you’d been hunting, the one you’d sworn to protect at all costs, gleamed innocently behind its protective glass. you could recognise the serpentine dragon coiled protectively around the stone at its centre, its intricate carving daring anyone to claim it.

your frantic eyes met gojo's. his were sharp, seething. then, both your gazes flicked to naoki.

naoki, of course, noticed nothing — or pretended not to. he let out a soft hum, following gojo's pointed stare.

"the bodyguard's interested too?"

you coughed, cutting through the rising tension before gojo could turn that look into something explosive. the glass case between them might as well have been kindling for the fire brewing.

"it's mainly for academics," you said, feigning an air of curiosity. then, with practiced innocence, you tilted your head and smiled at the dangerous special grade cursed object as if it were nothing more than an ordinary trinket.

"but it’s so pretty. what is it, really?"

naoki's hand tightened subtly on your waist, and you tried to ignore the guilt that bubbled up in your chest when his sharp features softened at your feigned interest.

"it’s just an old thing," he said, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret meant only for you, "did you know it once belonged to ryomen sukuna?"

your mouth was dry, but you kept your face blank, tilting your head as though you’d never heard the name before, "sukuna?"

naoki pressed his palm to the glass case, his expression shifting into something darker, more reverent.

"the king of curses," he murmured. "lived over a thousand years ago. ruthless. when he died, most of his treasures were plundered by clans too greedy for their own good. but this..." he tapped the glass softly. "this one? it wasn't easy to get my hands on."

you leaned closer, feigning fascination while calculating your next move, trying to figure out how you could get close enough to that glass case without shattering the illusion cast on naoki sato, "what does it do?"

for a moment, naoki's eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering in their depths. but just as quickly, his expression smoothed out, and he chuckled.

"trust me, beautiful," he said, his voice like silk with an edge of warning. "you don’t want to wear that thing. i could get you something far more...safe."

you forced a smile, ignoring the chill that ran down your spine. instead, you threw a quick, desperate glance at gojo — a silent plea for the strongest to listen to you: i'll distract him. you get the amulet.

gojo's expression tightened, but his head snapped once, briefly, in the faintest hint of acknowledgement.

time to move.

you let out a soft, breathy laugh and tugged naoki toward a table, your hand brushing his arm with casual ease. "let’s sit," you suggested, leaning into his toned chest just enough to sell the act. "all this walking is making me tired."

naoki's laughter was warm, a touch too easy, and he let you guide him without resistance, "tsk, whatever you want," he murmured.

now you're trusting gojo satoru, simply because you had no other choice. he had to get the amulet out of the glass before alarms began to blare, and before needless blood was spilt over the glimmering floor.

and so you sat, letting naoki have his back to gojo, oblivious to the white-haired shadow slipping closer to the case. your eyes lingered on gojo, pulse racing each time he disappeared behind one of naoki's own burly guards.

but then naoki sato's gaze locked onto you, drawing your attention back with a searing warmth that caught you off guard.

"so," he asked, eyes glinting, "what do you think of all...this?"

"it's impressive," and you're surprised at how the truth has found a home in your mouth, "i didn't ever think of different sorcerers, around the world."

naoki leaned closer, with his elbows on his thighs, propping his face upon his hands, "most people don't. here, it's all about jujutsu. tokyo, this. kyoto, that. the higher ups are so narrow-minded. stuck in their ways, obsessed with tradition. they don't know anything about the world out there."

for a moment, his words startled you. they weren’t the boastful musings of a crime boss but something else. they reminded you of how gojo spoke about the rigidity of the old ways, about why he fought so hard to change things, to create a better world for jujutsu sorcerers.

ah, focus.

"hey," naoki suddenly said, pulling you out of your thoughts. his gaze was sharper now, more intense. and over his shouder, you caught the faintest blur of white hair in the background, gojo's movements.

but it was hard to focus on anything but naoki sato's face — the sharp lines softened by his proximity, the warmth in his dark eyes that you didn’t want to admit was almost magnetic.

he was a man marked for execution, and the warrant must have been burning a hole through your suite on the highest floor.

yet here he was, looking at you like you were something worth risking everything for.

and suddenly, you weren’t sure you wanted to see autumn's locks matted with rusted blood. to see eyes go dull and lifeless.

you felt like you had the moral spine of a sponge.

"can i kiss you?"

the question hit like a punch to the gut. your lips parted, but no sound came out. and suddenly, the steps in the background stopped too.

naoki's hand came up to your jaw, his touch unexpectedly reverent, and all you could think was: distraction. right. distract him for gojo. what the fuck is taking him so long?

so you closed the distance.

naoki's lips captured yours with a softness that disarmed you, but the kiss was anything but tentative, and you could taste a sweet tang like lemons and sugar. but you let his large hands pull you closer and his touch was warm and intoxicating.

the kind that made you forget, just for a moment, that this was all a ruse.

his lips moved against yours with a heat that made everything else fade to black, and his hands slid down your waist and back, tracing lines that felt dangerously real.

when you finally pulled away for air, your lips tingled, and your breath came in short bursts. you couldn’t help yourself — you reached up, your fingers brushing against his now-flushed lips, glossy under your touch, and you hated the way your stomach twisted from the way naoki sato melted under your touch.

focus, again.

you hoped, prayed, that gojo was doing his part, taking advantage of the way you had naoki sato, one of the most dangerous men in the entire world, wrapped around your finger, and bruising his tongue into your mouth.

but your gaze flicked upwards, past his shoulder and collided with something that stopped your heart cold.

electric blue. devastatingly vibrant, crackling with a fury that hit the air like a thunderstorm.

gojo's eyes pinned you in place, shadows pooling in sharp cerulean, from shades that had slipped just a touch down his nose. no mask to shield whatever expression gojo had clearly painted across his face.

hurt? anger? what the fuck, was that betrayal?

your throat tightened, and you resisted the urge to dig your nails into naoki's tailored jacket, to hiss at gojo to get a move on. to stop standing there like he had been hit with a shovel.

but the words didn't quite form, didn't pull at the corners of your mouth to silently shape them. his expression just held you captive, no. shamed you.

and that made you angrier. he had no right to look at you like that, like you had just crossed a line that you didn't even know was there.

but under you, naoki shifted, tilted your chip up to meet his lips again, and you let him. you...wanted him to. but the heat of his lips didn't drown out the chill of gojo's stare. your own body betrayed you with a shiver, one that you couldn't quite place yourself.

nerves, or desire.

the kiss was firmer this time, insistent, as if naoki sato was staking his claim in front of an invisible audience. his hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw with maddening ease, over the pulse of your neck.

and for a second, it was too easy to fall into the lie. but you felt it: the searing weight of gojo's glower burning into you, not far away.

naoki pulled back just slightly, his breath fanning your lips, "hey, you're distracted," he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his eyes scanning your face as though he wanted to read every thought. "should i be offended?"

"no," you said quickly, almost too quickly, "just a lot to take in."

naoki smiles, all coy and glazed lips, clearly pleased by what he thought was pure flattery, and not the glowering six-eyes shining behind him. "good. i think 'm gonna like leaving you speechless."

part of you knows that you just aren't seeing those pearly gates of heaven.

naoki's warm thumb lingers against your jaw, and your breath hitches just enough for the sorcerer to notice. you don't miss how his eyes darken, a hint of triumph gleaming in them.

you risked a glance past his shoulder again, and gojo was still there, stony-faced as naoki's own guards. but there's something else broiling in his eyes, rolling over his face like a thunderstorm cracks over a grassy plain. the fury in his eyes hadn't lessened, but now it was laced with something sharper, something that you can finally read.

jealousy. absolute glass-shattering, world-stopping levels of envy paint over gojo satoru's face.

the realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

was he jealous of naoki sato? of you? of this entire charade that you both had agreed to? or rather, the one you had roped him into.

the idea shouldn’t have thrilled you, but it did. and it terrified you just as much.

you let naoki kiss you again, forcing yourself to deepen it this time, your hands coming up to rest against his hard chest. you don't miss how he suddenly parts from your lips, panting softly into your mouth, and suddenly you're hit with the most awful wave of longing for a man who cannot have.

naoki’s large hands, however, weren’t idle. one brushed the edge of your dress, under the shoulder strap of your powder-blue gown, his thumb grazing against the fabric, and your breath hitched.

you shift, your breath stuttering as naoki's other hand slides higher, his fingers brushing against the flesh of your thigh, pushing your dress higher, and his hand brushes against the silver details on the side, scratching your skin. it's maddening how cool air meets the heat of your now exposed skin, and naoki's mouth crushes against yours, as if he's equally savouring the taste of you.

"t-there are people here," you gasp, your voice a fractured whisper, trembling at the edge of composure, "what if they can see or watch?"

gojo satoru is here. gojo is watching. you know your partner is close enough to hear every breathless sound you make, every treasonous whine that slips past your lips.

but naoki sato's mouth is curved into a plush, wicked smile, "let them look," and his teeth are grazing against the curve enough in a way that makes you arch your back into him, he who is now leaning over you, as if he's the one trying to capture you, "who cares - hah?"

any reasonable thought of your duty. of honour, of a mission flees from your head.

the sight of gojo's softly parted mouth and darkened eyes as he watches you in another man's arms spurs you on, and you let naoki sato press his lips against the hollow of his throat.

naoki's long fingers are blazing as they reach the very apex of your thighs. as they press two rough pads into the sopping slick that's gathered in your panties, as they run themselves along dampened fabric in a way that has you openly keening.

"can i?" and your eyes meet the mahogany gaze of the man above you. it's electrifying. you should be ashamed, furious at how you're just being taken like this, on display. but this is a room of the seven deadly sins, where each corner of the room is a lesson in hedonism, and obscene wealth.

"please."

but your eyes are only on gojo satoru behind him. on how he catches the pale-pink of his bottom lip between his teeth, and his face is seething. how his darkened eyes drop to naoki's hand working its way between your legs, and you wantonly roll your hips up to meet him there.

you let writhing fingers slip under the waistband of your pale-blue underwear, dipping into glossy, thick arousal. but you also don't miss the tent in gojo satoru's grey slacks, only metres away, and the frenzied look making him look pained.

you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy moaning openly, spreading your legs just a bit wider, so gojo could get a glimpse of your drooling cunt.

"fuck, 's good. so good, naoki."

a finger travels up, away from your winking entrance to press a soft flick against your throbbing clit, "yeah?"

and the beautiful man in between your legs all but purrs. pleased beyond measure at how you've apparently been captured, heart and soul by him. and your attention snaps back to how he suddenly draws his fingers off your soaked cunt, and brings them up to his mouth.

"sweetest thing i've ever tasted, i think 'm gonna have -"

and then, it hit you.

a hot, sticky spray of liquid.

the scent of iron slammed into your senses as fresh blood splattered across your face, your chest, and stained the delicate blue of your dress into a deep and damning red. it clung to your skin, to your lips as you pressed your mouth shut, fighting the bile rising in your throat.

reversal: red crackled in the air, cursed energy humming sharp, and it had sliced through the hall like a whip. naoki's arm had been torn from your waist, wrenched away as he staggered back with a guttural hiss, and you avert your eyes from the blood that paints the space between you.

"that's enough."

gojo satoru's voice is like a thunderclap, reverberating around your ears, and when you finally meet his gaze, you're met with unbridled fury. you're not sure where his shades have gone, but you're met with the full weight of six-eyes, blazing and unrelenting.

naoki stumbles ahead of you, clutching his shoulder where blood seeps through his fingers, torn between shock and raw rage. his cherry-lips are curled back into a snarl, flush with indignation.

"hah, you're a sorcerer?," and naoki sato's voice drips with venom, heavy with disbelief.

you're not quite sure gojo satoru needs to answer. not when his presence alone sends waves of cold through the hall, cutting the air precisely, cleaving it.

but there's a man running towards the commotion, a guard encumbered by a hefty black suit, and there's a cold shock that runs through you as your eyes fall on the gun at his side.

"we think that's gojo satoru," the guard wheezes, breathless.

"you're telling me this now? i gave you fuckwits one job," naoki snarls, shaking the man, with his nails dug into the guard's shoulder.

and you're quickly pushing your dress down, letting the fabric spill over your legs once more, fighting back the hot sparks that sting at your eyes.

it's enough to snap naoki's attention back to you. and for a moment, for the briefest of moment, he wasn't the hardened criminal you had been playing this dangerous game with. a boy your age, wild and beautiful, and utterly undone.

and it heaves your stomach at how the fury in his gaze trembles slightly, just enough to reveal betrayal underneath that strikes you harder than any limitless could.and it struck you harder than any whip of magic ever could.

"i must be stupid, fuck," naoki's voice cracks as he spits the words, his expression twisted with something raw, something painfully human, "you’re a jujutsu sorcerer too, aren't you?"

the accusation was a dagger, his voice trembling with disbelief but its wholly true, and your head wavers in a half-shake, half-nod.

"you’re with him, aren't you? just another one of the higher up's lapdogs?"

the words weren’t a question — they were a condemnation.

naoki's lips are curled, and his bloodied arm is now trembling but steady, defiance burning through the pain.

and a whisper in your mind tells you to smash the glass case holding the amulet, to push through it with your bare hands, just so you can bleed alongside him.

but naoki sato's bitter scoff shatters that thought, and his gaze must have followed yours, sharp and knowing, for his hand has moved faster, pulling the gun from the guard's holster.

the blast came before you could even think, loud and jarring.

but you never saw the bullet's path, only gojo.

gojo, whose arm has snapped in front of you like a barrier, impossibly fast, and well within the bounds of his infinity. as if he had tore through space itself.

the bullet collides with infinity, ricocheting into the chaos of the panicking crowd.

naoki’s gaze didn’t waver. it slices back to gojo, sharp, calculating, and darkly amused. he must have seen it now, everything.

the truth was etched in the way gojo had positioned himself, the way his blazing blue eyes never left you, the unspoken claim humming in the air like a second heartbeat.

naoki sato's laugh is lower, bitter, and you watch the mesmerising plink! of crimson on the floor.

"he's protecting you, isn’t he?" his voice dripped with venom, each word striking like a dagger, "how sweet.”

and just like that, something broke. gojo's restraint, most likely.

you can see how his fingers are flexing, his hands lifting and cursed energy is coiling at his fingertips. his thumb and index finger brush, a telltale sign of an impending blast. hollow purple.

you clench your eyes shut, bracing for the devastation of the impact —

but naoki sato was faster.

his arms snapped outward, a surge of his own jujutsu ripping through the space between you. the bodyguards around you crumpled like ragdolls, their bodies bursting under the pressure. blood sprayed in thick, sticky waves, painting the walls, the floor — against the edges of infinity.

you opened your eyes in time to see gojo falter, his hands trembling as he stared at the carnage. even he, the unflinching sorcerer, the strongest, looked shaken by the sheer brutality of what cursed technique: enhance was capable of.

and in the heartbeat of his hesitation, naoki was gone.

"fuck's sake! s-satoru! let go of me!" you snap, voice cracking with fury as you fight against gojo's tight grasp.

his vivid focus shoots back to you, his expression a storm of anger and disbelief, "what?" and gojo's voice is razer-sharp, "if you think i'm letting you go after that stunt you pulled -"

"shut up!" and you can feel your own desperation cut through the air, "you go after him, i'll go after the amulet."

you toss your head to the shattered glass and the chaos erupting all around you, "if that thing gets lost in the mess, we've done this all for nothing!"

gojo's jaw is clenched, his mouth pressed into a hard and furious line. for a moment, you think he's going to argue with you again, but then you're dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

pain shoots through your knees as you land, but you're soon hauling yourself up.

"go!" you hiss, shoving at his shoulder, "i'll come find you when i have it."

gojo hesitates for a fraction of a second longer, then he's gone — a blur of movement faster than your eyes could track, leaving you alone in the chaos.

your hands tremble as you grab a heavy steel bar from the wreckage, swinging it with all your strength at the glass case. the sound of shattering glass barely registers as you reach inside, your fingers curling around the cold, smooth surface of the amulet.

wild shocks run through you, and you almost keel over, feeling the rush and pulse of such a cursed object against your skin. but it's safe. you have it now.

with it clutched tightly in your hand, you turned and run.

by now, you can't find it within yourself to stop the hot tears from running down your cheeks, streaming freely as you tear through the blood-soaked scene.

you run, the air sharp and cold against your skin, your heartbeat an unrelenting drum in your ears. the thump! making your head pound.

you can follow the residuals of gojo's cursed energy, lingering like a sickly beacon, drawing you back to the dull parking lot. you pushed open the doors with both hands, red smudging onto the concrete as you ignored the sting of your palms

and then you saw it. saw it all.

the scene hits you like a wrecking ball, knocking the breath clean from your lungs.

a body lies crumpled on the ground, its lifelessness more harrowing than the carnage that surrounds it. blood, thick and sticky, smears across the concrete. massive pillars, toppled like a child's toys in the wake of a clear explosion.

your gaze snags on a limp hand sprawled on the floor, and you feel your stomach twist. instinctively, your tongue slides against the back of your teeth, and the metallic tang of iron is already sleeping into your senses.

and then, there was gojo satoru.

he stands amid the wreckage, like a figure carved from shadows, and ice. and fury. his chest softly rises and falls, as though he had been running for miles, his hair disheveled and darkened with sweat.

the sight of him might have almost been human, almost comforting. if not for the gore streaked across his hands, and the thing he drops onto the concrete with a hollow thud.

you don't look at it. you don't think you can. your stomach knows the truth before your mind catches up, bile heaving within you once more.

the head of naoki sato. he would never have stood a chance against the strongest sorcerer in modern history.

final task: retrieve artefact. execute naoki sato on site. alternatively, bring in for execution.

you mind flashes back to that dastardly pink sticky note, still stuck to the case file.

what did you feel now? anger? sadness?

maybe both. maybe neither.

the blood pooling in front of gojo is already congealing, its sickly shine dimming in the cold, fluorescent light of the lot.

you were tired of seeing blood, of tasting it on your tongue, of breathing it in like the very air you needed to survive.

you’d thought there would be relief in the end. but instead, disappointment had rooted itself deep inside you, twisting itself.

naoki sato, for all his crimes and cruetly, had been...something. somewhere beneath the sly smirks and sharp words, there had been glimpses of something that almost looked like hope. he had said he wanted better — for everyone. for you. was it a lie? or had you twisted his words into something more comforting than the truth, desparate to see light where there was none?

your throat burns, but no tears come. just a hollow ache that matches the cold weight of raijin's amulet in your hand. you looked at it now, the thing you’d fought so hard to win, its edges biting into your skin, the dragon leaving its mark.

gojo's voice cut through the silence, low and ragged, and tired, "don’t look."

you hadn’t even realised you were staring, your eyes hovering dangerously close to the lifeless hand on the ground.

"i'm sorry," he had continued, his tone strangely neutral, as if apologising for a cracked glass rather than the irrevocable violence around him, that seemed to trail after him, "i had to do it."

you laughed then, short and bitter, the sound cracking like a whip against the cold air. "had to, gojo?" your voice trembled, not with fear, but something darker. something far more raw.

his gaze had snapped to you, and there it was — the thing that always churned between you two. a storm of emotions, tangled so tightly you could no longer tell where hate ended and yearning began.

"you think this is the resolution i wanted?" gojo shot back, his voice laced with something too jagged to be regret. "you think i enjoyed that?"

and in the most twisted, perverse theatre of your mind's eye, you see gojo's open-mouthed stare, focused on how another man touched you, made you his.

"i don’t know what you enjoy anymore," you take a step closer, your grip tightening on amulet until your knuckles whitened. but the air pushed from your lungs, "but - god, gojo. forget it. i-i don't even know. 'm sorry, too."

gojo sighs, and you see the exhaustion hanging over him too, "we'll go back tomorrow morning."

the walk back to your room is…suffocating. the air is thick with everything that you just cannot say, words that you can't even bring your heavy tongue to shape.

gojo is beind you, and you can feel the weight of his presence pressing between your shoulder blades, but you just can't turn around. you don't dare to. raijin's amulet is still clenched in your hand, and its edges are cutting into your palm, a form of self-flagellation you suppose.

you push the door open, and your breath catches and hitches as you slip inside, slamming it shut after he follows. locking it with shaking hands.

in the suite, the moonlight now slices through the half-drawn curtains, as the tokyo skyline glimmers underneath you. it's painting silver lines across gojo's spectral frame, and he strides to the amenities sink, a smaller outlet near the door.

you watch, as though you're holding a sacred vigil.

your gaze doesn't leave gojo's figure as he throws his jacket off his sharp torso with a disgusted sigh, leaving him in his black dress shirt and a loosened tie.

still watching as his movements are tense, restless as he cups water from the faucet in his hands, splashing it onto his face.

when he finally looks up, gojo's white is hair dripping, his tie slightly askew, and his tired eyes catch yours like a snare.

for a moment, you’re frozen. neither of you say a word. the air feels too thin to breathe, and his gaze is too much — too piercing, too relentless, too him.

you can’t take it.

with a sharp motion, you slam the amulet onto the table, the sound echoing through the quiet room. you spin on your heel and lock yourself in the bathroom, shutting him out.

inside, the luxurious space feels surreal. marble floors gleam under the soft glow of recessed lighting, gold fixtures glinting and stinging your eyes. it smells faintly of jasmine and mint, too perfect for the mess you're about to create.

you grip the edge of the sink as the first sob wrenches its way out of your chest, hot and raw.

tears spill over, cascading down your cheeks in waves you can’t control. they come faster, harder, until you’re gasping, choking on gulps of air that burn in your throat.

you sink onto the cool floor tiles, your knees pulled to your chest as the sobs wrack your body. the weight of everything, what you did, gojo's eyes gleaming, naoki sato's hands on you, the smell of blood, it all crashes over you like a tidal wave. it’s too much for a human heart to bear in one night.

but your hands are shaking as you reach for the hem of your once beautiful dress, peeling it off with clumsy, desperate motions. the air is cool against your skin, you who is now left in undergarments.

and you stare blankly at the blood that smears your arms and legs, before grabbing a small towel, dampening it under the sink and wiping crimson stains away.

small cuts sting on your skin, faint patches where glass struck you, and you hiss.

a knock rattles the bathroom door, sharp and unrelenting, dragging you back to reality.

you close your eyes and exhale through gritted teeth, your voice brittle, "not now, gojo."

silence follows, stretching out long enough to offer the illusion of peace. but then it breaks. another knock, louder, more insistent this time.

"satoru, i swear to god," you snap, your exhaustion fraying into something sharp, laced with more venom now.

there’s a sigh from the other side, audible even through the thick wood, "don't make me blast this door down."

you groan, rolling your eyes as you toss the bloodied towel onto the counter, "you wouldn't dare."

"try me. just open the door, would'you?"

you don’t have the energy to argue, and something in his tone tells you that gojo isn’t bluffing. and so you dragged yourself upright, swinging the door open with more force than necessary.

gojo stands there, with damp hair still clinging to his forehead, beads of water trailing down his templates. and his sleeves are rolled up now, revealing thick forearms flecked with rust and crimson. it wouldn't be his. no, gojo hasn't bled in over a decade.

you straighten, aware of your own state right now. in your undergarments, only shielding you from being entirely bare under his gaze. but the only clothes in this room with you are now crumpled on the floor, in a heap of ice-blue and dark red.

let him look. he's seen more than enough now.

and so you lean back against the sink, crossing your arms as your eyes meet blue, "what do you want?"

gojo hesitates, his jaw tightening as he braces himself. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough around the edges, "just...asking if you're alright."

the laugh that escapes you is sharp and hollow, devoid of any humour, "why wouldn't i be?"

gojo's faze flickers, his expression unreadable, but his eyes linger a moment too long. you let him trace the dried blood smeared across your collarbone, the faint scratches on your skin.

"after all of that tonight..." he starts, but the words hang in the air between the two of you, unfinished. his voice suddenly falters, and you're struck by how gojo's razor-sharp confidence has dulled into something weaker, more conflicted.

you know exactly what he means. the stunt he's referring to, in his own earlier words. you wonder what exactly is eating at him now. is it honest concern, pride? residual envy?

"please, trust me. i'm fine, we managed to do what was asked of us, anyway," you clip curtly, hoping your tone is final enough.

gojo looks at you like he doesn't believe a single syllable that slips from your bitten lips, but then his shoulders sag and he exhales sharply, "fine," he mutters, turning on his heel as if he's the one that can't stand to be near you any longer.

"wait."

the word slips out before you can stop it, and gojo pauses, and his eyes are narrowed with suspicion.

you swallow hard, suddenly unsure of yourself, and lift a clean towel from the counter, helping yourself to another one of the hotel's free amenities, "can you help me with this?"

an olive branch.

you gesture with a single finger, over dried blood that has streaked over your back, your neck. the hollow of your collarbone.

you can see the refusal dancing on his tongue, the hesitation in the way his throat bobs, and how gojo's eyes flicker over you once more.

but he doesn't refuse. gojo just wordlessly steps forward, taking the towel from your outstretched hand. you watch, silently, as he moves to the sink and runs it under cold water. you're sitting on the edge of the counter now so you face him, watching the warm golden glow of the overhead lights in his pale hair.

the porcelain is cold against your thighs as you angle yourself away from the mirror, facing gojo. the towel in his hand drips faintly, and you watch as he hesitates again, just for a fraction of a second before stepping closer.

at first, his movements are slow and careful. he's raising the towel, and his hand is steady as you feel the first touch of the cool fabric against your back. a shiver practically races down your spine, not from the cold, but from the way his arm snakes behind you, brushing against your bare skin.

it's subtle at first, but you notice it. the hitch in his breath, the faint tremour in his movements.

gojo, who is always so infuriatingly composed, is shaken. you hear it in the sorcerer's uneven exhale that he doesn't quite manage to suppress, the way his fingers press the towel just a little too harshly.

the suite is silent now except for the faint drip of water and the rasp of fabric against your skin. you should say something, anything, but the words don’t come. instead, your gaze fixes on him, his profile illuminated by the warm glow of the bathroom light.

gojo's features are always striking, almost ethereal: the ice-white hair that falls messily against his forehead, the long white lashes that frame those sharp, cerulean-blue eyes. there’s something softened by the warm light, as though the harshness of his presence, of a man who stands above heaven and earth, has been dulled just enough to make him seem almost...human again.

but you feel as though your heart must just give way, pounding so hard that it may burst. where the blood that fell from another man's veins had somehow drawn a line to gojo satoru instead.

an hour ago, you had been arched into another, naoki sato, one who had been a dead man walking. an hour ago, his hands were on you, his lips hot and insistent, and his eyes were warm, and now he’s gone. dead. gojo made sure of that. and that was always meant to happen.

the thought should make you furious. it should make you push gojo away, but instead, all you can do is sit there, feeling his hands —gentle now, impossibly careful, on your skin.

it's wrong. it's so deeply, fundamentally wrong, and yet the space another man left feels like it was carved out for gojo satoru all along.

gojo's touch slows as he runs the towel over your skin, tracing the line of your collarbone with a precision that feels almost tender. your eyes slip closed for a moment, the warmth of his hand lingering even as the cold water wipes away the blood.

then he moves again.

it happens fast enough that you barely register it. one second, gojo satoru is standing tall and focused on the task, and the next...he's leaning down. his breath ghosting over the hollow of your neck.

you feel your entire world tilt as his lips press softly against the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, a touch so light that it feels stolen.

but now you've frozen, every breath catching as though the air was snatched from your lungs. every nerve feels as though it's on fire, hyper-aware of how soft the brush of his lips was, the faint scrape of his teeth just shy of your skin.

how gojo's lips were almost reverent, like a prayer offered in silence. how he was worshipping something he couldn't ever have.

but your eyes snap open to meet his.

gojos's cerulean eyes are molten, the usual ice cracked and melting into something deep and desperate and all-consuming. they bore into yours, wild and unguraded, and the pale lashes framing them tremble lighting as though even he's unsure of what he's just done.

but gojo's pupils are also blown wide, and electric. like a storm trapped in glass.

you swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your throat. slowly, cautiously, you dip your head, just enough to give him permission without saying a word.

the look in his eyes shifts — hunger, disbelief, and something darker all tangled together. he presses his lips to your neck again, firmer this time, lingering as though committing the feel of your skin to memory. then again, slightly higher, his breath hot and uneven against you.

"satoru…" the name slips from your lips in a whisper, trembling and unbidden.

the warmth of his tongue catches you off guard, tracing the curve of your neck in a way that sends a jolt through your entire body, heat down to your thighs. it's...unhinged, but the part of you that should push him away is nowhere to be found.

gojo pulls back just enough for you to see the faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes remain dark, intense, and burning with something that feels too big for the room.

"another man got to taste you," he whispers, "now i've tasted him."

you almost laugh, sharp and bitter. the sound lodging in your throat. the absurdity of it all, the jealously lacing his words like a poison vine, the way his breath still fans against your skin.

"that's insane," you manage, your voice shaking. it does little to stop the searing heat curling low in your stomach.

for a second, gojo's breath is still hot against your neck. and then suddenly, his hands are on you.

and fuck, it's not delicate at all. there's a roughness to his touch, desparate and unrestrained, as though something inside him as finally snapped.

his palms trace along your bare shoulders, sliding down to your arms, and then to your waist. his fingers press into your skin with a heat that makes you feel like you're burning from the inside out. you don't even realise when you had opened your mouth slightly, panting as if you're trying to pull more air in.

"gojo," you manage, barely audible, and you're acutely aware of the low tense ache beginning to throb in your groin.

his hands slow for a moment, resting on your sides as if he’s trying to ground himself, or stop himself. and gojo's eyes find yours again, and they’re ablaze.

"can i keep going?"

you wonder just how you've managed to unravel this man, to leave his voice hanging by a thread in the air.

you don’t answer right away, your head swimming with confusion, slick desire, and something dangerously close to surrender. gojo satoru is watching you so intently it’s like he’s searching for every unspoken answer written on your skin.

finally, you shift — subtle, but enough. your knees part slightly, just enough for him to step between your bare thighs.

"what do you want me to do?"

you're aware of the insistent, rhythmic pulsing under your panties. of how every small shift of gojo's body against yours amplifies the soft arousal forming, as your heart pounds faster.

and so you let your fingers hook onto the pale waistband of your underwear, and you watch as his gaze follows your movements.

"i want you to touch me, there. please."

you hear the white-haired man breathe out a thankful, reverent fuck before he's following the path of your own hands, hooking a slender finger into your waistband and pulling your underwear down, and off.

and you're so painfully aware of your own arousal right now, the wet that is pooling beneath you. it feels like a relief, parting your legs so your searing heat meets cool air.

"that's perfect, look at t-that," and you're suddenly whining as gojo's fingertips begin grazing sloppy folds, raking themselves over your fluttering entrance, "she's practically been beggin' for my touch all this time, hah!"

"you - ohh, gojo!" you moan, feeling awfully faint from the rippling warmth making your cunt tighten around him, each pshh! echoing in your burning ears, "y-you wish!"

gojo's laugh is a little crazed, undone as he rolls his fingers in practiced curls, at an inhuman pace. bullying his fingers into your opening, as he rasps, "yeah, i w-wish. 'm wishing for this all the time. you never knew, huh?"

"f-fuck, if i had known it felt like this, would've stuck my fingers in h-her a long time ago," gojo unfurls his fingers that only just separated from your winking pussy, and you can only watch.

equally mesmerised as his slender fingers are coated in strands of your slick, clinging to the curves of his short nails and coating them in a mirror sheen.

"have some c-class, gojo! you've lost your fuckin' mind -"

smack!

"i swear to god, gojo. never say that corny shit a-again."

but gojo's teeth are sharp as they sink into the damp skin of your neck with an almost reverent press, easily snapping through the delicate flesh.

still, there's hardly time to dissect that.

"keep your eyes h-here, sweets. on us."

and god, that's exactly where your eyes are. falling on a tense forearm around your waist, as the other works its fierce way through the clamping, gummy walls of your leaking cunt. and you're shuddering underneath him, feeling each brush of his fingers in you.

"w-we make a pretty sight, don't we, yeah?" and the words are spilling from gojo's lips with a certain smugness, but it's rough around the edges, strained. and you just can't look away from how utterly ruined he looks, from touching you.

you watch the glossed shine of your trickling pussy twinkle in the warm lights, as gojo pushes your thighs open wider. his frame leans over yours, taut and straining. and his lips are flushed and parted, betraying the deep ache of his breath.

"go onnn, say it. c'mon," and now gojo's whining in your ear, letting his hand push further into the mess as your pussy is practically weeping onto his fingertips, "won't let you c-cum if you don't say it."

your chest heaves with each desperate, gulping breath. and you can see gojo's vision narrow on how your tits threaten to spill out from their confines, the swell of your chest rising as you try to draw air through your close orgasmic daze. where the edges of your vision blur, and your heart is pounding erratically, "ahhh, gojo! 'm gonna, i think 'm gonna, oh my god!"

but there's more, you want so much more.

and against better thought, you push and elbow back into gojo's chest, heaving as he flicks his thumb over your aching clit.

"hah, what is it now? fuck was that for?" and the man is scowling at you, seemingly irritated that you drew him away from the hypnotic pull of your pulsing walls.

you swivel, away from the mirror so you're facing him. and your eyes fall on the heavy, pitched tent in gojo's grey slacks, one that must be aching and awfully painful from the way he's running his pink tongue over his bruised mouth.

"wan' more, gojo. on the bed."

you've reached up behind your back, unhooking the clip that was holding your bra together. it falls, and you toss it into the pile where gojo had flung your clingy panties, over your gorgeous dress.

and you think gojo satoru might have just had a minor heart attack.

his expression has shifted, lips parted as he takes in your naked form. you think you hear his breath hitch, as his eyes roam over you, unblinking. you're certain that the mildly brighter light in the room has nothing to do with what's overhead, rather the bright blue of gojo's six eyes.

you snicker at his dumbstruck expression, letting your hand curl around his wrist — marvelling at how he almost whines at the sight of you pushing him out of the bathroom suite, and onto that glorious bed that the two of you had argued over earlier in the day.

"n-not so opposed to sharing a bed with me now, sweets? oh, fuck," you don't let him get any more words out, since you're reaching for the sleek leather belt threading through the loops of his slacks, pawing at them so you can finally undress him. have him as bare as you are now.

something in your desparate touch must have made gojo snap, because now he's shuffling the two of you around, so you're practically splayed out under his warm, large hands. thighs spread, parted so your dripping cunt is displayed to the room, as he scoots closer. his knees pressing against the carpet.

"hnnghh, f-fuck, look at her. practically cryin' on me."

and what a sight. gojo satoru, the most powerful man to walk this earth in centuries is slumped beneath your thighs, close enough to your clit that when he breathes, he knocks his nose right over the sensitive bud, coating his face in that syrupy glaze.

and then its slow, painful. how his long tongue descends onto your weeping pussy, writhing flat in wide, broad strokes that leave you whining out his name.

you spread your legs even wider, fighting against gojo's tight grip on the flesh of your thighs. the thighs that are trembling as he brings his teeth up to graze your clit, and your arousal drips from his lips. making candied pink lips look like they've been glazed and dipped in sugar.

briefly, in the back of your mind, you wonder how you're going to continue to function tomorrow. how you're going to even be able to walk after gojo satoru has rendered you boneless.

you also wonder if there's a cosmic deity out there, looking at an invisible and heavenly camera with a dull look on their face. something like what can you do?

"mmhph, y'know i l-like this a lot better than that drink from earlier," and he's cooing at how you squeal and moan, "hah, what was that s-shit called? a cream soda."

you pull at the white strands of his hair, yanking gojo's head back from where his tongue had been lolling around your clit, ignoring his whine, "if y-you make a stupid, fuckin' joke about creaming, i'm g-gonna leave."

gojo rolls his eyes, but this time? this time, there's no malice in it, no irritation. his expression is almost fond, if not shadowed by the enormity of his own lust, "leaving before the main event is dumb choice, sweets."

"tch! get to i-it then, oh! what the fuck, gojo!"

he's found the right place to prod, to roll his fingers over the hood of your clit, occasionally propping his mouth down to suck at it lightly. your mouth is clamped shut, so you don't release an absurd amount of babble, wordless and airless about how good he's devouring you.

"hah," gojo huffs, pressing three flat fingers against your entrance, letting them curl into your walls, enough to tease you, "i can feel her beating for me. 's pulsing all over."

"c-can't you jus' make me cum?" your hands are desparate for some friction, running past your perked tits, down to his hair again. now clamping your thighs around his head, and the soft, snowy hair of his head tickles at your skin.

"can' believe you're talking shit when i'm e-eating you out," gojo chuckles, but you're just too mesmerised by the glint of your slick lighting a beacon over the lower half of his face, strands of slick as he pulls away from your pussy, "y'not that patient, huh?"

he's practically attached to your clit now, kissing it with a tender and yet firm press of his lips, seemingly aware of just how sensitive you are to that type of pressure.

you whimper and mewl as gojo's head disappeared back between your legs, deeper and lower as his tongue pushes into your pussy, flicking shallow thrusts that makes you breathe out gasps of his name.

"now i think 'm gonna cum, so close, satoru," with your hand firmly lodged in his platinum strands, you're rocking your hips messily, sloppily against his awaiting mouth.

"y-yeah? go on, sweets," he's moaning now too, and you don't miss how the edge of the bed rocks just a bit from him grinding the frame for some release on his own erection.

your orgasm makes your mind foggy, and you practically quake in gojo's large, warm hands. with a sharp cry of his name, followed by an endless chant of praise for the unearthly man between your legs, lapping at you as though you are his last drink, his last meal on this earth before he ascends elsewhere.

the hard streaks of white shoot through your vision, even as you come down from the incredible high, and you realise gojo has not stopped.

gojo's jaw is still locked as your slick dribbles down your folds, into his open mouth and onto his waiting tongue. the extra stimulation makes you deliriously cry out, "fuck, s-satoru! 's too much, holy fuck!"

you were still shaking, and a second orgam blurred your sight into an incredible spectrum of colours, white hot starlight and streaks of blue. that cascade of vivid tints flood your vision, each one jerking your hips and cunt forward until you felt your legs give way.

until gojo finally separated himself from your thighs, satisfied at how he had pulled two climaxes from you.

he's absolutely lost it, lost in that daze of being pussywhipped, and his eyes gleam with a feverish intensity. and when he crashes pink, glossy lips down on your mouth, you can feel him shake under your touch.

you moan, loud, as he nips at your lower lip. at how you can taste yourself on his tongue, syrup strands falling into your mouth as gojo suddenly twitches.

"i think 'm gonna have to be in you right now, otherwise i'll literally fuckin' die."

a breathy laugh falls from your lips as your partner pulls himself up, heavy limbs finally extracting themselves away from your naked body, reaching up to hook his fingers over the black crinkle of his rumpled dress shirt, pulling the fabric off.

leaving your mouth dry.

the moonlight spills over gojo's torso, and you track your eyes over his broad chest, rising and falling and flushed from his own arousal.

you follow the faint dusting of pale white hair as it disappeared past the waistband of his slacks that he's quickly making short work of, and you feel your pussy clench thinking about how badly you need to jump gojo satoru's bones.

but you're too transfixed by him, by the sculpted figure of a supposedly cold and arrogant bastard you've spent months and years rolling your eyes at.

he's real. all hot flesh and blood, and stunning. not that sneering, and infuriating man who's always one step ahead, always one callous word away from making your blood boil.

for a different heat has settled in you now, as your eyes fall on his throbbing cock that has sprung forth, up over his stomach. the tip is an angry, and furious berry-pink and you wonder just how you're going to make these inches fit.

"hah, didn’t think you'd be this shy, you know,” he says, voice a low, husky tease, as if he’s been watching your struggle. gojo's eyes glint with amusement, but there’s something deeper beneath it, something that you hope with lead him to take mercy on you.

"n-no. no," you repeat yourself more firmly, but it's far too breathless to be convincing, "no, 'm not shy."

but it's hard to form coherent thoughts when gojo satoru is towering over you, and his absurdly long and girthy shaft is twitching in between your slick folds.

"fuck you, s-satoru," you're whimpering, feeling the pulsing, rounded head of his flushed tip brush past your sensitive, drooling slit, "taking too long. jus' put it in already."

"mhmm, sweets," and gojo's bustling at your thighs now, pinching the soft and tender skin in retaliation for your touch undoing him so easily, "she can't even be patient, hah, trus' me. just lay back."

you comply, just this once. just because gojo satoru's cock looks so big, you think you need to gather all your thoughts so you'll be able to form coherent sentences later.

resting your head back on plush sheets, with the skyline twinkling in your peripheral vision as gojo's aligning himself with your cunt. he's gasping in low, shuddering breaths as his tip teases and hooks onto your inner walls.

"look at thaaat, oh! baby, fuck, wasn' even joking before, just sucking me up so fuckin' good!"

you don't reply, just mewling as he pushes inch after veiny inch into your dribbling walls, gasping as his large hands rest on the back of your thighs, pushing them further up so he can slot his torso in between your legs.

"oh my god, satoru! s-satoru, hnnhgh, it's too much — i don' think it's gon' fit," you always thought you would be embarrassed to lose composure like this in front of gojo, but you find yourself panting into the crook of his neck, raking nails down his flushed neck.

he's big, and you can feel every vein of his tapered curve hitting the right spots within you, as you shift your hips, desperate to let his sinuous cock kiss every inch of your pussy lovingly.

"gon' dumb already?" gojo's huffing, but you can see that he's not unaffected. his eyes are glazed over, hazy as he slowly draws his hips back just an inch, before scooting them forward already, "jus' gonna have to make this pussy learn from now on. don' worry, sweets. it'll fit."

the 'from now on' makes something in your pounding heart flutter.

but you have little time to focus on it as he bottoms out in your drenched cunt, as though you're hearing the slosh of your pussy coat him entirely, right up to the wiry, white hairs on his groin.

"hahh, there we go! the w-wonders of a positive attitude, don'tcha think?" and you're left with your eyes rolling to the back of your head, as he begins to pick up the pace. a steady staccato that has you jostling underneath his ministrations.

you let his mouth chase yours, capturing glossy lips with your own bite, letting him pant, and whine and praise the heavens above for how tight you're snatching him right now.

"she's p-perfect, isn't she? t-thought about it so much, y'got no idea, got no c-clue about how much i thought about you under me like this n' how you'd f-feel!"

gojo satoru is absolutely drunk from a nectar that he has tasted once. the same nectar that coats his cock in frothy, filthy rings as he pistons his hips out of your pussy.

"happy for y-you, satoru," and you're letting your nails scratch over the shell of his ear as he twitches and shudders, "but fuck, y'talk too much! jus' focus on fucking me!"

gojo's mouth quirks upwards, that knowing smirk playing on his lips as he looks at you bemused, and so hazy.

"god, a lot of that attitude now, hahh?" and he's drawling the words out, and you don't miss how he shudders when you clench around his shaft, on purpose. he's leaning in closer, barely brushing past your lips, and you wonder briefly for a split-second, gojo satoru might just really love you.

and then, without warning, his hand comes down to your side, just underneath the fat of your tits, pinching lightly at the abdomen. causing you to take a sharp intake of breath, and a dizzy huff of his name.

if you ever believed that gojo satoru was malicious in the workplace, a bane on your sanity, you had not been prepared for how he was stretching you out in all the right places.

that inhumane pace of the strongest had him snapping his hips sharply, over and over until he's hitting the spongy patch, deep within your walls.

"clamped around me like, ohh, like a fuckin' vice," gojo's grunting now, each breath coming out short puffs that match the timing of the slap! each whack of his cock delivers, pressing your hips together and coating his hips in sweet slick.

"mmph, feels so good, satoru!" you squeal, pressing a hand over your mouth so you don't wake up the entire top floor of the hotel, tits jostling with each shuffle and movement.

it's all coming down on you too quick, that electric haze shooting down your spine. made all the worse by gojo groaning and slipping his hand between his jackhammering hips, down to where your clit is practically throbbing for his touch.

he's running tight circles, before pressing the flat of his thumb under the hood of your clit, ripping a raw cry from the back of your throat, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as gojo's lips are leaving blooming marks over your neck.

"satoru, i t-think 'm gonna c-cum again," you moan, fluttering your lashes against your skin, rolling your hips up into gojo's quick fingers and brutal cock. but it feels different this time, nothing like your past two orgasms. you feel something draw its claws further into your groin, like you're going to burst and the breath will be stolen away from your lungs.

you hear gojo say something, snarky but tender as he laughs into your collarbone, as he's slapping his fingers down quickly over your clit, making you jolt. but you don't hear his words as blood roars in your eears, gushing all over his cock with a clear, sticky sheen that coats him deliciously.

makes gojo satoru groan out filthy praises over your marked skin, "didn' know you were that nasty? hahh, squirtin' over me on your first go, yeah? it's gettin' too much for me too, s-sweets. think 'm gonna hafta maaa -"

you have no inkling as to what gojo was aiming to groan out, fluttering his own blue eyes shut as his orgasm catches up to him, pumping you insanely full of thick, stringy seed. practically painting your inner walls a translucent white as you huff and whine.

but in the back of your mind, you think he wanted to marry you. a bridge you'll cross when you get to it.

"fillin' you up, good, aren't i?" and he's lost in a daze, and you watch as his muscles ripple in the light of the moon, pectorals gleaming as he stuffs you further, as if plugging his seed to stay in you, making you squirm from the delicious stimulation.

you should have paid a little more attention to your surroundings. less attention to the thick veins of his cock drilling a home in you. or less attention to how his lips curl up into a sweeter smile as he presses soft, happy kisses to your cheek while you lay exhausted, caged by his thick arms.

then, you might have noticed the lights flicker and then shatter for half the hotel's rooms.

the morning sun peeks through the curtains like an overenthusiastic alarm clock, dragging you out of sleep with its gentle warmth. you stretch lazily, limbs still heavy and sticky from the weight of...the previous night's activities.

the sheets feel ridiculous soft, kudos to the insanely over-priced hotel. and for a second, you entertain the thought of just staying here. forever.

that is, until your eyes fall on raijin's amulet over on the wooden table.

and the fact that gojo is nowhere to be found.

you blink, squinting at the empty space beside you. your first instinct is to check besides the bed, and then under it, for fear that the six-foot three man has simply fallen off.

but your gaze falls on a tiny pink sticky-note on the nightstand. one that you suspect was pilfered from the scattered case file on the couch. you peer at looping cursive, scrawled in a blue marker.

don't eat anything yet! gone to get a proper breakfast!

you can't help the soft huff that leaves you, fond in its escape. you feel this sudden urge to don some proper clothes, to go down and join him in the warm sunlight.

but then you pause. perhaps, you ought not to. it would be fun to let him miss you just a bit. the thought of the gojo satoru standing there, waiting in line for entirely average pancakes is amusement enough for you.

but before you can pull the crisp sheets over your head, your eyes catch a glimpse of something else by the bed. a small, satin-blue box that didn't exist yesterday, in the world of cruel choices and...semi-successful missions.

the memory of yesterday pulls a frown from you, but you shake your head, determined to clear your thoughts.

you reach for it, letting your fingers run over the smooth surface, before tugging at the silver ribbon cautiously. half-expecting to find something weird like gojo's usual idea of a joke like a half-naked framed photo of him with a lipstick print.

ah!

but instead, inside the box lies a thin necklace. you've stared longingly enough at shop windows to know that these are real diamonds. not the cheap kind either, a well-cut carat that makes you gasp to yourself, a flush running over your cheeks.

for a moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched unbearably heavy. but then gojo’s ice-gaze dropped to the necklace scattered over your throat, and he tilted his head, "not too bad," a flicker of a scoff curling at his lips. "tch, they’re not even real," you blurted, then immediately regretted it, what was wrong with you today? you reached up, fingers grazing the cool crystals as if to shield them from his bemused scrutiny, "just thought i needed something to fit in."

you pick it up, feeling the cold weight of it in your hand. what is this, romance? a necklace? gojo satoru doesn’t even do romance. at least, not in the way anyone would expect.

he’s the kind of guy who would absolutely get you diamonds just to throw you off balance. mission accomplished.

you glance at the sticky note again, then back at the necklace. this is way too much for your sleep-addled brain. and yet, there’s this funny little thing inside you, a warm spark that you don’t know what to do with.

fuck, when did he even have the time to get this gorgeous gift?

you’re definitely not soft, but gojo does this thing to you — he has a way of turning your whole world upside down, and now…apparently, he’s gone and done it again.

your cheeks warm, but you don't admit to it. not yet. but there's no denying the softer spot that's growing in you, the urge to have gojo satoru in your arms in this very moment so you can run your hands through soft, white hair to watch him purr. to see his cheeks flush from a sweet blush as his blue eyes flutter shut.

your eyes fall on his crumpled uniform jacket from yesterday, his discarded clothes. perhaps, you could just join him. after all, you feel words threatening to spill from your mouth and you want him to hear them.

a surprise of your own? you think you want to see gojo satoru speechless for once.

do not plagiarise or repost! likes and reblogs appreciated. btw, this jenny packham was the dress i envisioned for reader but imagine whatever you like!

143 notes · View notes

fairytsuk1 · 2 days ago

Text

no caller id | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: ghostface, exhibition/voyeurism, stalking

pairing: alex quackity x reader

words: 6.1k

warnings: scream!au, mentions of murder and violence, stalking, exhibition and voyeurisms, stockholm syndrome, friends to lovers, masturbation, phone sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, condom usage

There were few things you and Alex disagreed on. You had your moments, sure, but you were thick as thieves. Anyone and everyone could see that. You were his, and he was yours, “it’s totally not romantic, just platonic companionship!”

So, you got along well. Horror movies, though… That was one unfortunate, disagreeable thing between you two. You would go all in with the popcorn and the candy and top it off with a fuzzy blanket draped over your form. Alex would signify his leave the minute you got comfortable before acquiescing and sitting next to you, face anxious and full of fear as he sat still.

He just wasn’t the type of person to indulge in such media. That’s why seeing Alex so enthralled in the Ghostface killings happening around town was so utterly shocking. He flips his phone towards you, and you’re graced with gory crime scene photos and a news article, “Alex! I don’t wanna see that.”

Alex sighs and nods before showing you another photo as he leans across your countertops. He’d come over for a late-night study session, but after too many Celsius drinks, it was safe to say that you were not going to pass your exam.

“This happened right by your dorm! You should see, you’ve gotta stay safe with that killer out there.”

He says it in the midst of your kitchen, wearing your too-big t-shirt and too-big sweatpants. He was fretting over you. It’s so domestic, your heart squeezes at the fond way he gazes at you; he’s warmth and love that tastes like the finest wine. You couldn’t get too distracted admiring the dotted freckles on his cheeks and wisps of dark hair, no. That wasn’t platonic of you. You shake your head, “I don’t care. I just don’t wanna get freaked out by that stuff.”

Alex hums and scrolls some more. He’s withholding, and your fingers come to poke at his ribs, “what?”

“You probably don’t want to know who died then, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

You give him an incredulous look with raised eyebrows. Alex makes a face and looks away before snapping back to look at you. He hems and haws before the words slip past his lips faster than he can stand them.

“Carlos Rodriguez, ring a bell? Says here he was dismembered walking home–”

“Oh god! Stop, that’s…” horrifying.

“That was the guy you went on a date with,” he pops a grape into his mouth like it was the most casual thing in the world, “right?”

“Yeah, yeah. It was.”

He observes you for a moment. Your eyes look guilty, and he can’t place why. It makes something inside of him twinge. He’s rounding the counter in seconds and wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a protective embrace. Alex smells like warm musk, spicy with a hint of cinnamon. You instinctively curl towards him and bury your face in his neck. He was always comforting.

Alex preens when you go in for the hug, feeling your chest squish against his as he pulls you close to him, “it’s alright. He’s in a better place now! You have me; I’ll keep you safe.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. As if Ghostface would come after the two of you. You try not to hone in on his ‘you have me.’ He was considerate of your feelings and wanted to make you feel safe. Your heart pitter-patters in your chest. His hand rubs small circles on your back, and you shudder, pressing closer to his warmth.

You both stay like that. Alex keeps you enveloped within him for as long as he can, purring soft comforts into the shell of your ear. His lips brush against the sensitive skin before he picks you up into his arms and drags you to the couch.

“Come on. It’s movie night!”

It doesn’t really leave your mind, though, even as you sidle up close to Alex while re-watching your favorite movies.

“And you’ve known Alex for how long?”

A gaggle of your friends sit around your dorm, Christina being the first to start the interrogation. It’d been a week since Carlos had been killed, and you’d been spending all your time with Alex. It was for safety, you said. It’s just so nothing happens, you reiterated. Your friends knew better.

“Five years? Six?”

“Oh my god! He wants to date you,” Imane exclaims. “It’s obvious, he buys your lunch, you guys cuddle: you just need to man up!”

“Woman up,” Noah emphasizes before sipping on his beer. “But I agree, he’s got it bad for you.”

You sit in the center with flushed cheeks, “we’re just friends, guys!”

“Friends who wanna fuck,” Christina adds with a laugh.

“But isn’t it suspicious he hasn’t made a move yet? Like, what’s he waiting for?”

“Guys, come on. He’s not bad or suspicious or anything! He’s just shy…”

You defend your man, but Noah blurts out the unthinkable. The inconceivable.

“Maybe he’s Ghostface!”

The silence was deafening against your speakers, humming a tune of bedroom pop; you could hear your blood rushing in your ears. You all pin Noah with a deep stare. How could he say that?

“That’s not funny, Noah.”

“I’m not saying anything! I’m just saying maybe he doesn’t want to date you because he’s too busy chopping up people’s bodies or something.”

“Noah! Enough,” you cry with hands covering your ears. “I’m not listening to you! I don’t want to listen to you.”

“Listennn, I like the guy. Trust-wise? He’s on my list.”

What if he was? Can you tell? You’re not sure, and you think about it for a while. There was something about the Ghostface persona that you’d initially joked about being hot, but that was before it hit so close to home. You were unsure and unsettled. Alex couldn’t be capable of something so horrid. He was your best friend and, admittedly, your crush. It just wasn’t believable.

You’re stuck in your head for the rest of the kickback. Alex had said he couldn’t come; he was “swamped with homework.” It wasn’t exactly believable since you shared a Google Calendar together: even more definitive proof of you two toeing the line between friends and lovers, a sentiment echoed by your friend group.

The sun sets into an inky black night, and your friends are filed out of the room. You’re left alone and freezing. A hot shower might do you some good. You take your time. The bathroom fills with its warm steam as you turn the knob and let your clothes drop one by one. Your phone rings. Your wrist is dampened from the brief spray of water, pulling out your arm to decline the call.

They call again, and you’re huffing as you swing your phone up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” a gritty voice filters through and purrs your name. “Getting ready for bed?”

You know in your heart who it is. That telltale voice, the way he repeated your name… Ghostface had asked you a question, and your legs tremble as your mouth gapes, “it’s in your best interest to answer.”

“Yes! Yes, I am,” you squeak out.

“That’s nice. I like your panties. Teddy bears? How cute.”

“How do you know that?”

Your voice is firm, yet its slightest wobble makes Ghostface chuckle. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible. The shower drips and sputters in the background as your breathing grows heavier. It was impossible.

“Let’s play a game. Tell me your favorite scary movie.”

Unshed tears glisten in your eyes, “I don’t want to.”

“You have to. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“I don’t know! Please, I don’t–”

“I’m not gonna kill you, so just answer the fucking question, pretty girl.”

Rivulets of tears stream down your cheeks as you choke out an answer. The panic and sickening arousal courses through you. He kept complimenting you, making you feel all gooey inside, all while the threat of his power loomed over you like a fog that grew thicker every moment you stood in fear. He grew on your fear, he devoured it whole.

“I like the Chucky movies.”

Ghostface laughs, and it’s so familiar, but then he’s going from joyful to mad as he teases you over the phone.

“Ah, with the doll? Not as big of a fan of me, hmm?”

“Y-You’re scaring me,” you whisper, phone clenched in your fist. “What do you want from me?”

There’s a deep pause before he continues.

“I just wanted to play with you before bed. You should show yourself off more,” he hums and then sighs. “Enjoy the shower, pretty.”

He can’t help but add, “you don’t know what you do to me.”

Click. Ghostface hangs up, and your dreadful face stares back at you in the mirror. Were you meant to feel slick between your thighs as Ghostface lulled sweet compliments towards your body? No, it was wrong! It was so bad that you had to gnaw on your lip to prevent yourself from pressing the “call back” button.

Water streams down your forehead and nose, pooling at your feet before sliding down the drain. Your hands run through your soaked strands with a slight tremble as you sniffle, wondering if that murderer stands under a similar stream of water to watch crimson flow down the drain. You can’t get it out of your head as you towel off and slip on silky pajamas. Your heavy body sinks into the covers, and you stare at the ceiling. It’s almost on instinct for you to reach over with a huff and pull up Alex’s contact.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I can’t sleep,” you murmur as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “Will you come over?”

You can hear him yawn, and you’re quick to apologize even as he waves you off, “don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Barely ten minutes pass by before a gentle knock sounds at your door. There’s a stream of light as he enters that shines and is then blown out when he closes the door behind him.

Alex tiptoes in, toeing his shoes off by the door, “I’m here.”

You’re already breathing heavily and scooting over to give him more room. Alex looks at your sleepy eyes that stare back at him in the dark, joining you and slipping under your fluffy duvet to get close to you. You aren’t touching, but you’re so damn close. You need him closer, and the need to feel his skin against yours is overwhelming your entire being.

“Can we cuddle?”

Alex adjusts with his head on his hand, arm bent, and lying on your pillow as you snuggle a little closer, “yeah. C’mere.”

A buff arm wraps around your figure, and it’s heavenly. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and inhale his freshly showered scent, making you instantly relax in his arms. Your feet tangle with his, and he lets out a soft hiss at the cool feeling of your toes against his ankles. You both fall asleep, tangled in soft breaths, and the comfort of muscle looped around you. As you dream of nothingness, it then turns into something hapless.

“...Alex?”

Your voice is dreamy and wispy. You can hardly speak out, let alone yell out. Ghostface and Alex sit facing each other, and you call louder, eyes fluttering and blurring as you draw closer. You know it’s a dream, but you can’t help but take it as fact, as reality.

“What are you doing?”

They both turn towards you, Ghostface’s mask shaped in a long, menacing grin as he tilts his head towards you. Blood starts seeping from the edges of the mask and runs down its contours as it continues staring into your soul. You turn towards Alex, horrified to see him with a sickening grin as ruby red drops splatter on his face, “what’s wrong?”

There’s no reply as they both reach for you in a desperate bid to make you join whatever fucked-up seated circle they were reveling in. Revelling. That was the reason Alex was smiling. You awake with a gasping start.

It’s hard to focus on classes, on homework, on your relationships. You’d be holed up in libraries and study rooms with your ringer on in case another killing happened. They did happen, two in the same week. You couldn’t stop thinking, wondering if he’d sweet-talked his victims before brutally shoving the knife in deep till the fight leaked out of them. Did he call them, too?

You’d have told anyone, but there was no one to tell. Your friends would encourage you to tell the police, and there was no excuse for hiding something as crucial as a phone call from Ghostface. You’d be vilified within seconds. You couldn’t tell Alex, and it wasn’t even your fault. Alex had been distant. Busy, he’d said. Liar, you bit back.

He blew you off on the days you typically get lunch. He packed his bag up quickly as he bid you goodbye. The eye bags on his face only got darker and deeper, you were feeling worried. Maybe he was just as affected by the killings as you were. Just as affected by Ghostface as you were. It was still hurtful.

It hurt even more, knowing that your heart would beat rabbit fast at the thought of him. It was clear now, crystal. You liked Alex; you only wanted Alex. You thought this was mutual. You cuddled, were close, and shared your first kiss at a dumb high school party. Maybe he didn’t feel the same or care about your crestfallen expression as he urged ahead to leave class early.

You tried to repeat to yourself that he was just busy. Though you were unaware of it in his absence, Ghostface had you right where he wanted you. Open, pliable and all his. The phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Ghostface elongates your name, and you can hear his smirk through the phone. “How are you?”

You should just hang up. You shouldn’t even entertain it, he needed to leave you alone. You press the phone closer to your ear.

“Please, stop calling me!”

“Mmm, no. I want to talk to you. Don’t deny me.”

“You just wanna talk because you’re a freak,” you retort and sit up in bed with your hands angrily fisting the sheets. “Leave me alone.”

“Freak?”

Ghostface bursts into a peal of deep laughter. It’s mocking, and you wonder if he’s watching you.

“The only freak here is you refusing to hang up the phone.”

“I-I’m not refusing! I’ll hang up right now–”

“But you won’t,” he interjects quickly. “I know you won’t.”

“And how do you know that? Maybe I’ll call the police!”

“I know you won’t do that, either.”

He’s right. You’re too stricken and impulsive, fighting every word he says with a monologue. Your teeth worry your lips as you take a deep breath, “are you watching me right now? Like in the shower?”

“Yes,” his breathing seems deeper. “I’m watching you right now. You look fantastic.”

“I’m just in my pajamas.”

“I like how they look.”

You shouldn’t indulge in this any longer. It was so wrong, and you were making yourself so vulnerable. Socked feet cross as you turn to glance out your window; there’s nothing there.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

A hand that has a mind of its own comes to the hem of your shirt. The mingled breaths between you two nearly echo on the call, and you’re slipping a hand under the cotton to touch your stomach.

“That’s a nice sight,” and there’s a rustling of fabric as he seemingly shifts positions. “What do you think you’re doing, hmm?”

“Testing you. If you were gonna kill me, you would’ve done it when I was in the shower.”

“I’m not so cliché.”

“Really? I beg to differ,” and you’re not sure where the confidence comes to set your phone down and peel your top off from your body.

Your nipples harden instantly as the cool air. You sit with your chest exposed and a rapid heartbeat, quickly putting the phone to your ear just to catch the briefest groan, “are you still there?”

“Of course. Take off your shorts.”

His command makes you hesitate. Were you really going to go through with this? Ghostface’s voice crackles in the still air, “don’t be shy.”

The drawstring is undone in seconds, loose fabric slipping down your thighs to your ankles before you unceremoniously kick them away.

“There, I did it,” you whisper as if someone was listening to your debauched call. There’s a long stretch of silence and rustling. “Hello?”

“You look really sexy like this,” he whispers in a breathy tone.

If you listen even closer, the wet squelch of him fisting his cock is obvious. Your hand starts at your collarbone and dips to squeeze your tits, “aah…!”

“Play with them, let me see.”

It doesn’t matter that he’s watching you from God knows where; your eyes slip closed as pathetic mewls escape your lips with every grope of your fingers.

“A-Ah, fuck,” you whisper before laying back to let another hand follow the curve of your sternum to the flat of your tummy. Ghostface openly moans when your manicure nails brush against your waistband. He moves his hand faster; you’re intoxicated by every ‘thwip’ of his fist as he jerks off.

“I wish I could touch,” his grunts echo, and he teases himself lewdly with his thumb running over his leaky slit. “I-I’ll fuck you so good.”

Your clit is throbbing when you finally start rubbing pathetic little circles. Writhing, your lips part to breathily whine out, “Ghostfaceee!”

“Ohmy, fuck. Put them inside. Fuck yourself, pretty.”

It’s easy to do what he says, your whole greedily sucks your fingers in deep. Your hand tweaks your nipple while your toes dig into your plush bed, “fffuck me! Oh my god, feels so good!”

“Gonna blow my load all over you—ngh, shit. I can’t wait to touch you for real. Yeah, yeah; fuck. Soak ’em for me.”

Ghostface’s rambling spurs you on, and your fingers rub right against that spongy spot that makes you convulse and gush all over your hand.

“Oh, fuuuck!”

Your face presses hard into the pillows as he cums. You could imagine his hips popping up as he came all over his knuckles. A few minutes pass, and the only thing audible is your mingling breath while you both come down from your eyes.

The phone is pressed to your ear as you eagerly ask if he’s still there.

“I am,” he says slowly. “Have a good night.”

“W-Wait!”

You call back several times, but they all go unanswered. He leaves you spoiled and naked in bed with a slick drying on your inner thighs.

The post-nut clarity left you sleepless and wondering if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.

The guilt wears down on you like a weighted blanket; every square inch of your body can’t stop imagining the voice, and the guilt coats you in another heavy layer of shame. You try to fight back, but the fabric is never-ending, and you’re useless against its power.

You had to tell someone. Anyone. It has to be Alex; no one else needs to know anything other than him.

[you]: hey

[you]: will you come over?

[you]: need to talk to you

[alex]: be there in a few <3

The heart makes you smile. Locking your phone and setting it aside, you tug your knees to your chest in waiting. How would you tell him? More like admitting to him since you were undoubtedly hiding this fact of admiration because it was so shameful and wrong. Alex knocks lightly on your door, and your voice is shaky when you call, “come in!”

He looks calm, if a bit confused. Alex’s eyes scan you before sitting beside you on your plush bed. He always looks at you with those amber eyes that show pure devotion.

“What’s got you all wound up, huh?”

A gentle hand releases your knees from your embrace, Alex’s arm slinking past the back of your neck to cup you close by the shoulder. You tuck yourself into his side with ease. He hums for a bit, rousing you with a shake.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, it’s just… I don’t know. Something happened.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes! I’m okay,” you take a deep breath, and your head tilts up to peer at him with anxious eyes. “Just don’t freak out that bad, okay?”

He doesn’t reply, only maintaining eye contact as his thumb rubs circles into your soft skin.

“Ghostface… called me. We had a conversation.”

“...What?”

He says your name with a laugh, “you probably just got prank called!”

“No, Alex. I’m serious! Please,” you grab his shirt and tug him so close that your noses brush. “I talked to Ghostface, seriously. You need to believe me.”

“How do you even know it was really him, hm?”

Oh, you knew. The telltaletelltale scratchy voice. The deep, mirthy laugh. How he coaxed you to orgasm through simple words of, “you can go harder than that; I’ve seen you.”

“I-I just know. It was him, he was stalking me.”

“Okay… so Ghostface is coming after you?”

“I don’t know what he’s planning! I guess so,” you bury your face into his beauty mark-dotted neck. “I don’t know what to do. What if he’s just waiting to kill me?”

“No way. He’d be stupid, you already told me. I’m, like, almost a witness to it.”

That was true. Now that Alex knew if anything happened… you’d have someone to back you up. You squeeze him in gratefulness.

“Then what should I do? Hire a bodyguard!?”

“I don’t think you have bodyguard money,” he teases. “But I can always walk with you anywhere, everywhere. And what if–no, never mind.”

“Alex, you need to tell me everything you’re thinking,” you urge.

He looks apprehensive, teeth tugging his lip between them to gnaw at the sensitive skin. He looks all around your room, his eyes landing on a framed photo of the two of you at an amusement park. Alex is grinning while holding a peace sign; your hair flies wildly and without abandon as the sun shines down on you two, “what if we found a way to catch him? You know, set a bait.”

Your face twists up immediately.

“Bait? I’d be the bait! This is a horrible idea–”

“Hear me out! I’d be waiting there and see if he shows up. You could make sure it’s obvious you’re alone. Ghostface comes, I tackle him, and boom! We call the police, and he’s finally gonna be held accountable.”

Alex eyes you, “what do you say?”

It was such a dumb idea. Every part of you screaming to lock the door and shut the blinds. But you don’t. Alex texts you periodically to check in, but the plan was just an unsafe waste of time for a while. But your phone rings at half past eleven.

“...Hello?”

“Hiya,” he croons your name, and your blood runs cold.

“I’m hanging up!”

“Don’t you fucking dare, or I’ll gut Alex myself.

You whimper, “I don’t want to die!”

“Then play a game with me. How about warmer or colder?”

It gives you a sickening pause. You held Alex and your own life in the palm of your hands, the threat of losing what means most to you evident. Your valued life and love would be lost through the gaps of your fingers like rivulets of clear water. You stand.

You had to be brave for both of you.

“Are you in my apartment?”

“Now, you’re playing,” and he chuckles over the phone.

A thick gulp sticks in your throat as you swallow. Something takes you to the kitchen where you peer around the corner to gaze into the yellow-lighted tiles and counters filled to the brim with your things, “colder.”

“Where the fuck are you?”

Ghostface has no reply. You move away from the kitchen, soft steps padding against the ground like a knowing prey animal. You glance at the living room, eyes scanning for a Ghostface-shaped hiding spot.

“Warmer,” his voice lulls, and he sounds so fucking amused that it makes your heart clench.

“Where’s Alex?”

Ghostface has no reply, and you frustratedly groan at him over the phone, “watch your tone.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re bratty today, hm? All wound up over Alex?”

“Just stop talking about him!”

It makes warmth spread all past your cheeks and ears. You venture forward and stare at the looming hallway before you. Finally, you registered the tremble in your knees as they knocked against each other.

“Hot.”

Your hall closet stares menacingly at you, and your stomach drops. You got to turn, but his voice commands you to stop, “freezing!”

There’s a shake in your lip as your ears fill with salty tears that threaten to spill over onto your cheeks. You blink them away and take step by step closer. Breathing grows heavy and restricted before you’re standing before the hall closet.

“You’re on fire.”

The door is yanked open forcefully, revealing beige and white towels with silk sheets. There was no one there. He lied! Only then, does Ghostface leap from your bedroom door to wrap his arms around you from behind. You try to scream, but a gloved hand slots easily over your mouth as he begins to tug you.

You kick and scream and cry like a petulant child as you fight with all your power. He doesn’t seem all that interested in your pleas. He only grunts softly as you land whack upon whack on him. However, he’s undeterred as he hoists you up like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder.

“No! No, lemme go! Let. Me. Go!”

“Come on,” he drawls your name as he lays you flat and helpless on your back against the couch.

He easily fits over you and pins your wrists to the fluff of the furniture. The two of you stare at each other, and you’re panting wildly with fear and adrenaline. Ghostface adjusts to straddle you, sinking down till his hips are flush against yours.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“A-About what?”

“Fucking me. I know you have, you wanna know how I know?”

“Yes! Yes, please, just–”

The mask is ripped away to reveal a harsh, shocking truth. It’s Alex, sweaty with matted hair that sticks to his forehead. You nearly go limp from the shock and stress as he looks down at you with pleading eyes, “don’t shy away from me, now. You weren’t like this earlier.”

“I don’t, I don’t understand! W-What’s going on, ‘lex?”

You murmur his nickname desperately, watching as he gnaws on his plush bottom lip. His lip trembles as he peers at you, his hands loosening their grip on your wrists. You wiggle a hand free and wrap it around his shoulders, your hand splaying flat against his back and holding him protectively, “but why?”

“I needed you,” he croaks. “I needed you to realize you want me.”

He starts nosing at your neck, lips planting gentle kisses on the smooth expanse of your throat. A weak whine rises and dies from your lips.

“Alex, I–wait, this is!I–”

“What you’ve been craving, right? What you’ve been needing.”

He sucks on your pulse point, and you arch lewdly into his all-encompassing black robes. He’s sticky with spit as he collides the two of you together into a heady kiss.

It’s all you’ve been wanting, but it’s all the wrong circumstances. He presses with such need into you, such desperation; your mouth slips open wider to tangle with his syrupy tongue.

“That’s it,” he huffs and lightly rocks his bulge against your sweatpants.

He’s so hard, you can feel him shudder as he presses forward again to lightly hump against you.

“Wanted to just have you all to myself.”

He joins you once again to heavily make out, both of you growing more and more eager by the second. You bury yourself within him, his hand groping your breast with a groan of satisfaction.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” Alex tugs your earlobe with his teeth. “Every time we cuddled, hugged… I just wanted to fuck you to tears.”

It makes such a hot moan escape, your toes curling as you writhe beneath him.

“Fuck, really?”

“Yes, I needed you more than I could stand!”

Alex’s hands are eager as they skim your stomach to reveal more of your glowing skin. He bites his lip in anticipation, observing as the shirt reveals your perky tits; he can’t help but latch his mouth to your budding nipple and suck.

“Oh, fuuck. Alex, shit.”

“Feels good, right? Mmm, love how these feel.”

He grins before diving in and peppering love bites and suckles along your sensitive skin. Buff arms wrap around your middle and pull you closer, teeth grazing the underside of your tit; he laves a dark mark and pulls away with a wide smirk.

You realize Alex’s clothing is still on. You’re tugging his robes up the minute your eyes are able to focus–he was a god with his tongue, and you needed it more than just toying with your boobs.

“You need to take this, ngh, off.”

“Yeah, you want it off?”

“Don’t tease me, ‘lex. I wanna see you. Not Ghostface.

It gives Alex pause, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he pulls back to look at you.

“... You really mean it?”

“Yes,” you purr. “I really do.”

Alex quickly tugs off his draping outfit, sighing as his bare, caramel chest is given its glory. Suddenly, you see him for who he is. A man, a man you’re soaking your panties for. You need him like a fish needs water.

The two of you meld together like it’s all you’ve ever known. In a way, Alex is all you’ve ever known.

Your hands greedily feel him up, squishing his pecks and running your thumb over his hardening nipples. His hips pop once with a meek whimper escaping him, “I-I should be doing this to you.”

“But you’re not,” you taunt and latch your mouth to his chest and suck.

A keening whimper escapes Alex as his fingers tangle into your tresses, pushing his chest further into your tongue with a whine.

The two of you meet in a sloppy kiss, Alex pushing you onto your back as he leaves love bites down your neck. He leaves more on the other side of your breast, sucking soft, supple skin to leave bruises of remembrance.

Alex pauses, his eyes flickered to yours and a steamy gaze, “can I… Can I eat you out?”

It doesn’t feel weird, even if he’s your best friend. Your knees fall apart wider as you give a shy nod, “y-yeah. Be gentle—I’m sensitive.”

He hums and levels with your pussy. Alex’s right hand comes to entangle with yours as his breath fans over your soaked panties. You both stare in a terse, heated moment before he’s licking with the flat of his tongue.

“Ooh! Shit…!”

Alex makes it sloppy while teasing you over soaked cotton. His smirk is evident when you cry out and practically crush his hand as he laves over your swollen clit.

“You taste like candy,” he pulls your panties to the side with a groan. “And you’re so wet.”

“You’re embarrassing me—aah! Ohmygod, ‘lex!”

He dives in like a man starved, and in a way he is. Alex slurps messily at your folds, tongue swirling your creamy hole before sucking your clit into his hot, wet mouth.

Your fingers grip and tug ferociously as you grind your cunt against his face. Alex’s eyes slip closed as he loses himself in you, his adept tongue working you open.

It burns hot and white as your stomach clenches. You ride his face, and he lets you, “‘lex!! ‘M gonna cum!”

There’s a wet, inaudible groan, and Alex is pressing his tongue at your entrance and tongue-fucking you. The hot strand of pressure snaps, and you cum with a needy cry.

“Alex,” you sob out, knees squeezing his head as he helps you through your orgasm. “C-Can’t! Too much, please!—”

He pulls away with a glistening mouth and jaw. He’s so hard in just his boxers, and you can taste yourself as you bring him in for a messy kiss.

“I can’t believe I just,” you cut him off with another desperate peck, “mmf—just ate you out.”

“Don’t brag about it,” you murmur against his lips before he settles back on his haunches.

Alex starts to claim he’s not “bragging,” but you hone in on the reveal of his thick, bobbing cock after freeing it from his boxers. The fat tip smears pre-cum on his navel and your mouth waters. God, you needed him.

He fishes out a condom from his black robes, and you draw close to help roll it on. He’s hot to the touch and shivers at how your hand barely wraps around him, “thank you.”

Your hand is still on his dick as you smile up at him. Alex gives you a tender grin before motioning you to lie back. He uncoils like a snake, stretching across you to lay between your legs. His dick just barely brushes your throbbing clit, and you jump at the contact. Alex swallows and seems nervous as he grips his base.

“I-I love you,” he says. “I love you.”

The world seems to stop for a moment. You stare into the galaxy of brown amber held in his eyes.

You can hardly breathe, and you swear your heart’s crawling up your throat and about to beat past your lips. Alex’s eyes search yours for something, anything. You hadn’t realized how silent you’ve been, “I love you, too.”

Alex laughs and scoots a little closer, his cock head just barely pressing against your fluttering hole.

“God, you really made me nervous there.”

“You’re about to be inside me! I wasn’t ready for a confession…”

Alex kisses your pout away and sinks into you with a hefty groan, “holy shit.”

You’re scratching his back from the deliciously sinful way he stretches you out. With the legs looped around his hips, he starts to shallowly thrust. His dick plunge is deep and drags heavy amidst your spasming gummy walls.

“Fuck me, oh, yes!”

“Ngh,” he grunts, and his hips are hitting yours with punishing claps.

Alex makes you submit, laying there in a writhing heap as you take him in your guts. His hips angle upwards, and he’s battering your g-spot while uttering sweet nothings into your ear, “you’re such a good girl. Ah, ah, fuck; c-can’t believe I’m fucking your pretty pussy.”

Your lips are swollen red and parted as Alex fills you entirely over and over and over! You cling to him in a pathetic embrace, barely able to keep your eyes open while staccato moans fill Alex’s ear.

“Alex, I-I can’t for m-much—ooh!! Ohgod, gonna cum…!”

In between your sweaty, grinding bodies, Alex’s sneaky hand slinks down to messily rub your clit, “you’re fucking perfect.”

His voice shakes with a compliment, and his thumb presses his hard circles on your sensitive nub. It’s enough to break you down in a mix of cries and sobs as you cum all over him, “oh fuu-huh-ck!”

Alex inhales sharply, chasing his own high as your walls squeeze him during your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck. Baby, I—!!”

He lets out a whimpering squeak before burying deep and emptying his balls inside the condom. He thrusts once, twice, before collapsing down onto you with panting breaths on his lips.

You both are exhausted. Your bare foot presses against the cool plastic of his mask, and you blurt your question before you can even think.

“Did you really kill all those people?”

He doesn’t look at you, merely planting kiss after kiss on your exposed skin, “I did it all for you.”

There’s no guilt or apprehension this time. Only the way your heart sings with love.

“It’s hard to say whether Ghostface had help this time,” the newscaster reports. “But, it’s an ongoing reminder to lock your doors and report any suspicious activity…”

The screen goes black as Alex laughs and cuts the TV off. Your eyes trace his features, the delicate curve of his nose, and the slope of his lips; he is stunning. Neither of you speak of the mutual dried flecks of blood on each other’s cheeks.

#quackity imagine #quackity scenario #quackity x reader #quackity x you #quackity x y/n #quackity fanfic #quackity smut #quackityhq x reader #quackity thirst #quackity x reader smut #quackity drabble

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3igbootyl0ver · 3 days ago

Text

who hurt you? [i]

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: Y/N struggles with unspoken feelings for Tara and is shut out when trying to help her after discovering possible abuse from her girlfriend.

word count: 1522

warnings: mentions of abuse, bruises, angst

a/n: hellooo, this is my first time writing in these type of situations (about abuse) so I apologize for any inaccuracy. I'm just kind of experimenting with this fic plus I'm not sure how many parts will it take to complete it. As always, any feedback is appreciated <3

“Let’s go! One more lap!” Coach Melissa’s voice cut through the air, sharp and firm. The team pushed forward, legs aching with every step. Your legs felt like they were made of jelly. With each stride growing heavier than the last, you fought to keep them moving. The fatigue was relentless, creeping up like a shadow, threatening to overtake you. Your muscles screamed in protest, and the rhythmic pounding of your feet on the track seemed to get slower and slower.

The pressure was heavy on you. Being the captain of the Blackmore High soccer team means handling the heavy amount of responsibilities and standards to upkeep. You would be up for the state tournament for the finals in a week, and you were afraid that you were going to disappoint your team and coach, eager to win and experience the triumph of being the champions. It won’t be easy, especially when you’re up against your rival team, Woodsboro High. You have to—no, need to—win against them since it’s your last year in high school, especially when you harbor a deep loathing for their captain, Amber Freeman. Her name wasn’t new to you; she has been dating your friend, Tara.

Tara has been your friend since middle school. You guys were inseparable back then, sharing everything from food to secrets and dreams about the future. Even through all the awkward stages of adolescence, Tara was always by your side, offering a comforting presence when things felt uncertain. You’ll have to admit, you started having feelings for Tara a year ago, noticing her in a way you hadn’t before, captivated by her doe eyes and her personality. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to deny what was growing inside you. You imagined all sorts of scenarios in your head, rehearsing the words over and over, hoping one day you would find the courage to tell her.

But the day never came; your plans to confess your undying love to her were halted and shoved down the dumpster when you found out she started dating Amber six months ago. The universe must’ve hated you; finding out your best friend was in love with someone else the same day you wanted to confess felt like a punch in the gut, a cruel reminder that you had waited too long, that you had kept your feelings hidden for so long that someone else had stepped in.

You ignored and neglected your feelings, pushing them into the corner of your mind, hoping they’d disappear. You couldn't risk ruining your friendship with Tara, especially now. It hurt too much to see her with Amber, but the last thing you wanted was to make things awkward or lose her entirely. Recently, you’ve been noticing her pulling herself away from you. She wouldn’t answer your texts or calls or act like she didn’t see you in the hallways. But you would see her post on her social media, always being with Amber.

It hurt—a deep, sharp ache that seemed to pierce straight through your chest, leaving you breathless. It wasn’t just a passing pang; it was a constant, gnawing pain that lingered, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. Every time you saw Tara with Amber, laughing, holding hands, something inside you twisted painfully, as though a part of you was being slowly ripped away. It felt like your heart was caught in a vice, tightening with every smile Tara gave to Amber, every word she spoke about her. It was the kind of hurt that made it hard to breathe, hard to think, like you were suffocating under the weight of all the words you could never say. You’ve decided to shove your feelings down the drain and focus on getting your grades up before graduating and leading your team for your final year at Blackmore High.

You were walking with your friend Chad, who was also on the soccer team, as the two of you made your way to class. The crisp morning air after the exhilarating and tiring practice made the walk a bit more refreshing, but the weight of everything going on in your mind made it hard to truly enjoy. Chad, as always, was complaining about the harsh punishments he had to do by Coach Melissa, gaining a deep sense of hatred for your coach.

“She’s nuts, man!” Chad ranted, venting his feelings about her absurd method of training. You smiled and nodded along, trying to keep your focus on his words, but your mind kept drifting back to Tara.

Chad glanced over at you, noticing your silence. “Hey, what’s up? You’ve been kinda quiet today. Something on your mind?” He nudged you lightly with his elbow, clearly oblivious to the storm swirling inside you.

“Nothing, man. It’s just... Have you been noticing Tara has been acting distant lately? She hasn’t been to school regularly. Has she been talking to you or Mindy?”

“Oh! That’s what I wanted to ask you about. Mindy found her in the bathroom a few days ago. She said Tara had some bruises around her arms. Tara was trying to cover it up and just shrugged it off, saying she fell down the stairs or something..”

The world seemed to tilt for a moment, and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. Bruises? Tara? No. It couldn’t be. Tara was always so careful, so strong. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Or would she? You could feel a knot tighten in your stomach, and your mind began racing, replaying every interaction you’d had with her recently, trying to make sense of it.

“Tara would never...,” you muttered, almost to yourself, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered. "Are you sure? Maybe she just bumped into something." Chad’s face was serious now, his usual easygoing expression gone. "I don’t know, man. Mindy said it didn’t look like something she could’ve just gotten from falling. And Tara’s been acting a little off lately, like, way more distant than usual."

Your stomach twisted further. Tara had been distant—now that you thought about it, she'd been a little quieter, more closed off, not the same carefree friend you’d known for so long. But bruises? It didn’t add up. “Maybe we should talk to her,” you suggested, your voice betraying the concern building inside. “I mean, if something’s going on... we need to be there for her.”

Chad nodded slowly, looking just as worried. "Yeah. But if Tara's covering it up, you know she’s not gonna want to talk about it. She’s always been like that, right? Stubborn." The silence between you both grew thick, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. You both knew that if something was truly wrong, Tara wouldn’t come forward easily. It was hard to imagine her going through something like that alone, but it seemed like she was. And you, you didn’t know what to do.

One afternoon, you finally made up your mind and talked to her. You couldn’t just sit by and watch anymore. You found her standing by her locker, her head down as she fiddled with her phone, looking like she was on the verge of crying. You almost hesitated, but you knew you had to speak up. “Tara,” you said, your voice tentative as you approached.

She stiffened at the sound of your voice, quickly wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater before glancing up at you with a guarded expression, her posture immediately closing off. “What is it, Y/N?” Her tone was cool, but there was an edge to it, as if she was preparing for a confrontation.

You swallowed, trying to find the right words. “Tara, are you—” you hesitated, unsure what to say. “The bruises... Are you okay?” Tara's face hardened almost instantly. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if trying to protect herself from more than just the physical cold. “I’m fine, okay?” she snapped, her voice sharp. “It’s nothing. Just..personal stuff.”

You took a careful step forward, trying to keep your tone gentle. “Tara, I— Is it Amber?”

“I said I’m fine!” She cut you off, her eyes flashing with frustration. “Why does it matter to you anyway?” Her defensive walls were up, and the more she spoke, the more distant she seemed. You froze, feeling the sting of her words. It wasn’t like Tara to shut people out like this. Your Tara.

“It matters because I care about you. I don’t care if we don’t talk anymore. I’m worried, Tara.” You said, your voice shaking. Tara’s eyes flashed. She didn’t want to hear it.

“I don’t need anyone’s help; I’m fine.” Without another word, she turned and walked away. You stood there, watching her go, feeling the weight of her defensiveness hanging in the air. The look in her eyes said it all—she wasn’t ready to talk, and she wasn’t about to let anyone in. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just lost your chance to help her, and a part of you wondered if she’d ever let anyone close enough to see the truth.

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a/n: I hope this is up to standard lol, I won't be promising a next part. I'm not experienced enough to write these type of sensitive topics or just writing in general lol. i know the pacing is a little messed up hehe maybe I should disappear and never write again and delete this account idk

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x y #scream #tara carpenter

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yellowjestertfs · 18 hours ago

Text

Altered State: Part 1

IDK if anyone on here will be interested in this story, its kind of a long and slower but thought I would post it anyways. More parts coming next week!

Most great adventures start with a call to arms, a quest from on high, a declaration of purpose to serve the greater good. Edward’s and Leon’s started with a question asked through a mouthful of chips.

“Wanna play this new game dude?” Leon asked words barely intelligible. He stood in the doorway of their living room, his fat frame blocking most of the light. In one hand he held a bag of chips and in the other, he held up an unfamiliar battered keep case, the type that held video game disks inside. The thing had a red and blue design that Edward didn't recognize.

“I guess. What is that thing, will it work on my Wii?” Edward asked. He lay on the couch, long thin body taking up the whole thing but sat up and moved over to make room for his roommate.

Leon shook his head “I don’t think so dude, it's like super retro.” He walked over to the TV and started fiddling with the row of older consoles that belonged to their third roommate Alvis trying to see if any could accommodate the game. "It was free though." He said as he found the right one, an extremely retro blocky thing Edward was surprised even accepted disks. Leon booted up the system, the familiar hum of the machine filling the space. “I got it from that comic shop down the street. This buff dude at the counter just handed it to me. Said he thought I would put it to good use.”

“Alvis would kill you if he knew you were touching that,” Edward warned, always the one to show more caution.

“Fuck Alvis. If he didn't want it to be used he shouldn’t have bought it” Leon countered. Neither of the two were particularly big fans of their other roommate, but Leon especially hated his guts. He only let the guy live with them because it made the rent cheaper and because Alvis’ weird retro tech fit in with their decor of half-finished Lego sets, empty pizza boxes, and superhero posters, and because for the most part, Alvis left the two friends alone, spending all his time in the engineering building or fiddling with tech in his room.

Leon opened the case and took out a dusty disk, growing on it to reveal the title “Altered State” and the manufacturer HunkTech, neither of which either Leon or Edward had ever heard of. Leon put the game back into Alvis’s video game console and pressed play. The TV flickered for a moment, then exploded with color so bright it forced both of them to squint. Flashes of neon light, strange symbols, and spinning images seared into their eyes, leaving dancing after images. Neither of the friends could look away, their senses overwhelmed by the pulsating lights that burned into the back of their brains. And just as suddenly as it started, the TV went black and both friends came back to themselves.

“Oh shit" Edward muttered, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. "Your game just fried the TV!Alvis is going to kill you.”

Leon opened his mouth to defend himself but before he could a green holographic display blinked into existence, floating in the air right in front of him. Growing text marched across the living room floor reading:

"Welcome to Altered State.”

Leon’s jaw dropped. "Uh, Ed? You seeing this?”

Edward stood motionless for a moment too shocked to speak. “What the fuck” he breathed “What's going on?”

Both of their holograms shifted to display naked, pixelated 3D models of the two friends, hanging awkwardly in midair.

“Eww, what the hell,” Leon said. He tried to avert his gaze but the images followed the motion of his head and stayed even when he shut his eyes.

Neither of the projections was a particularly flattering sight to behold. Leon’s short, heavy frame was rendered in painful detail—his soft belly, narrow shoulders, pudgy limbs, and average penis were all fully extenuated under the brutally detailed holographic projection. Edward’s model didn’t fare any better. Tall and spindly, his twig-like arms and knobby knees, paired with a notoriously ugly face, gave him the appearance of a scarecrow. Edward was not helped much in its attractiveness by the acne on his face, the greasy thin hair on his head, and the pitifully small penis between his legs fully visible in the naked light of the hologram.

“Your the one with your dick in my face.” Edward shot back, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the display.

The hologram flickered again, and new text appeared below both their models:

Analyzing subjects…

The text began to blink as new displays blinked into existence on the peripheral of both their vision, only really notable if focused on. Various menus that displayed statistics quests and a list perks were all there, though all were currently blank. The words level one along with an empty an empty progress bar beneath appeared at the top of their filed of view, though only visible to themselves and not the other.

Neither of the two friends had time to examine the new features in detail as the words under their models shifted again.

“Analyzing Purpose: Class Selection”

"Class selected: Juggernaut.” Appeared under Leon’s character.

Leon blinked. "Juggernaut?" he repeated, unsure what to make of the development.

Edward snickered, “I think that's the fantasy term for fatty.”

But before Leon could respond, Edward’s display changed too:

"Class selected: Snake Charmer.”

“What like I’m going to play the flute?” Edward asked.

It was Leon's turn to laugh. “No bro, the game just called you a homo.”

It took Edward a second to understand. “Not funny,” he said swatting his best friend on the arm, blushing somehow harder. “This is seriously messed up. We need to go to the hospital or something.”

“Relax charmochondriac, don't you see what’s happening?”

“Group psychosis?” Edward guessed.

“No dude, we are in a video game, and we fucking rule at video games.”

“Leon” Edward said warningly. Before he could say more though quests populated onto both their displays.

“Dude chill this is awesome. My first quest is easy too. I bet I can get level ten before you.”

Edward wasn’t as ready to accept this rapid series of unexplainable events but he also wasn’t ready to let his best friend think he was a chicken. “Fine. I’ll meet you back at the house when I kick your ass.”

Leon laughed and with that both boys raced out the door, shoving each other playfully to get out first. From there both took off to opposite sides of campus, towards their various objectives and their differing yet intimately intertwined destinies.

Leon raced, or his version which was something between a fast walk and an awkward jog, across campus to his first quest. It seemed easy enough: “Go to the gym” it read. Leon wasn’t exactly one for physical fitness but he at least knew where the health center was from campus orientation tour.

Despite his slow pace by the time he reached it he was out of breath. For a moment he stood in front of automatic double doors, panting and intimidated. He stuck out like a sore thumb on this part of campus, dressed in the ratty strained Superman shirt and baggy shorts his protruding belly and wild unkempt hair stood in stark contrast to the muscular adonis in low tank tops and tall fit women in matching sports sets who brushed by him without a second thought. Mustering his courage Leon walked through the doors and into the gym. His ears were greeted by the sound of slamming weights, rhythmic grunts, and a small ding as he completed his first quest and leveled up. He watched as the experience bar filled fully, bumping his level up to two and filling his vision with notifications. The bar continued to fill until it had reached halfway to the next level. A notification appeared in a gray box with plain white blocky text.

You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.

Leon grinned as he felt himself change. He couldn’t actually feel himself getting smarter or more charismatic. He wasn't sure if that was because those were more cognitive stats or if it was because the increase was marginal compared to his strength. Either way, it was a strength that Leon felt himself receive. It wasn't much. Leon didn’t suddenly become a hulk or a bodybuilder but he felt something shift. His shoulders widened slightly, his chest inflated a bit and his butt became less saggy. A single vein buried deep in the layers of fat in his arm engorged itself with blood and snaked its way to the surface, pushed upwards by growing muscle and diminishing fat. He felt physically stronger, faster, like he might be able to actually run a bit without throwing up. He didn't actually look all that different, a quarter of an inch taller, a few pounds shifted from fat to muscle, but inside he felt amazing, electric, like this is what he was made for. Leon suspected that feeling had to do with the other notification waiting for him just below the first.

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Gym Rat: as a juggernaut, you feel comfortable in all athletic spaces.”

Leon felt all his worries and insecurities about being in the gym fade away. He scanned his student ID and strode past the muscled jock at the front counter confidently, flashing him a smile and a slight wave. Leon felt just as comfortable in the gym as if he was at the comic book shop, no more, he felt like he was at home chilling with Edward, like he could do anything and give a damn about who judged him. Leon knew he should be concerned about how this game had physically changed his body and mind so easily but he was too invigorated, too electrified, and he had another quest to do.

“Do a push-up.” It read simply.

Leon hadn’t tried to do a push-up since 8th grade gym class but he felt confident he was capable of it with the boost to strength he had received. Leon weaved through the various machines and stations manned by the university’s resident hunks and athletes, some gave him dirty looks but most looked right through him. Leon found he couldn’t care less. He found a corner of the free mat and assumed the push-up position. Despite the recent slight boost to his athleticism, it was a task easier said than done. Leon went down as far as he could until he felt his arms begin to shake, about an inch, then pushed himself up with substantial effort.

To his disappointment, the quest still read as incomplete. He reasoned it must be due to his, form. He tried to go lower but ended up face-first on the mat, unable to push himself up. He went to his knees and did a push-up but that didn’t count either. Nor did a push-up with his butt out in the air, or one in which he rested on the ground for a few seconds in the middle. Leon was about to give up when he saw a guy around his age approach.

He didn't have the same gorilla bulk as some of the huge men in the gym but his body was visibly lean and defined through his tee-shirt, maybe a runner. “Need any help there” he asked. Leon couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or mocking but his new total comfort in the gym provided by his “Gym Rat” perk made him not care.

“I’m trying to do a push-up.”

“Just one?” The guy asked with a grin.

“Gotta start somewhere,” Leon said humbly.

“Your problem is your stance.” He said. He instructed Leon to assume the plank position and then went about correcting Leon’s form. His arms were too close together, his core was not properly engaged, back not fully straight. The man introduced himself as Cal and then instructed Leon to try again. Leon tried another pushup lowering his body slowly “Lower, lower” Cal called Leon and complied though his face turned red and he wanted to die. Cal didn't let him stop till the tip of his dick was practically touching the mat. Then he went back up, slowly and with more exertion than he had ever used in his whole life.

He was rewarded with a ding and a slew of notifications.

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Perfect Form: as a juggernaut, you instinctually know the proper form to maximize the performance of any athletic endeavor.”

Leon felt his body shift again from where it lay crumpled on the mat. His stomach deflated slightly, and under his man boobs pecs started to form. His legs lengthened a bit causing his shorts to only reach his knees instead of past them. The changes were as small as the first but Leon couldn’t help but feel amazed. He tried to do another push-up and found that his body now naturally assumed the perfect position without him having to think about it. With his new points in strength, he was able to push out another perfect military-style push-up, and two more before he flopped down onto the mat, fully spent.

“You're getting the hang of it,” Cal said smiling. If he had seen Leon's body change he made no indication. “good luck on your workout,” he called out as he left.

“Yeah see you around man” Leon called after him. He felt on cloud nine. At this rate, Leon would reach level 10 by the hour. On cue, two more quests appeared for him to complete. He wondered how Edward was doing, if he had even gained one level by now. Maybe once Leon had power gamed his way into OP status he could help his friend with a quest or two.

Edward walked across the quad at a brisk pace. He would have run if his bony arms and legs didn't make him look like a chicken when he did. Edward wasn’t quite as sold on this whole bizarre real life video game thing as Leon was but he also wasn’t about to let Leon leave him in the dust. Edward's first quest was pretty simple if non-specific, “be within 50 feet of 30 or more people”.

Edwards tendency to avoid large crowds gave him the advantage of knowing exactly where they often were. The coffee shop by the quad came right to his mind. At this time of the day, the place was packed with students either leaving or going to their mid-day classes. The place terrified Edward, the thought of so many eyes on him, judging him, mocking him, and yet Edward reasoned there was no harm in at least checking the place out, it not as if the quest required him to talk to anyone.

As he walked Edward wondered at the game. Leon, true to self had accepted the game right away without question. If his friend was muscular instead of fat he might be called a himbo. It wasn’t that he was dumb, he was getting a degree in public health, but he also didn't have a habit of thinking things through particularly throughly. Their freshmen year Leon had built a glider out of the shower curtain and broke his arm jumping off the second floor of their dorm with it. And last year Leon had thought it was a good idea to subscribe to some shady porn website that had given his computer a virus so corruptive even tech wizard Alvis couldn’t remove it.

Though they were inseparable best friend Edward was the opposite. He was much more cautious about everything, sometimes to irrational extremes. Last semester Edward had almost dropped out because he was too nervous to get approval for his classes from his sociology advisor. If he was scared of his sixty-five year old sweet as candy professor talking to guys he liked was surly out of the question, not that he would have any hope of success with his appearance.

As Edward walked across the quad he avoided eye contact with students crowded onto the open green sitting and chatting or throwing frisbees. Edward felt drowned in the sea of people, though the lawn wasn’t nearly dense enough to fulfill the quest.

The line for the coffee shop was out the door which made him want to throw up. He walked slowly forward waiting for the quest to complete. Finally, when he was only a few feet away, practically in line the quest was fulfilled and his experience bar to level two filled fully.

Edward heard a “ding” in his head and several notifications filled his vision startling him.

“You have reached level two. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“People Person: Those around you feel your natural charm and are more likely to accept you in a neutral or positive way, potentially even striking up a conversation.”

Edward felt a strange itch on his brow and a pressure on his jaw but ignored it. He didn't know what to make of the messages. The stats seemed somewhat consistent with role-playing video games, and he supposed the break down made sense with his class. Still, he wasn’t sure how something like charisma would be incorporated into real life, nor his new People Person perk. As a sociology major Edward knew all too well how complex human interaction was. The perk seemed to imply that not only would the game be changing him but also the people around him and their perceptions. He wasn’t sure if that was even possible not to mention ethical.

“Introduce yourself to a stranger,” the next quest said popping up on the side of Edward's vision. That more than any ethical quandary made Edward scared. It was all well and good for the game to claim that people would react positively to Edward but he knew firsthand that wasn’t true.

“Hey, are you in line” two girls who had walked up behind him asked. Edward froze, realizing he had positioned himself at an awkward spot half in line half not. The girls didn't seem disgusted by his presence but they also didn't seem particularly enthralled, they just wanted to get their coffee.

Edward nodded his head, the best he could do with his crippling social anxiety. He moved more obviously in line and the girl went back to chatting. As the line crept closer Edward tried and failed several times to work up the courage to introduce himself to the girls. He came up with various scenarios in his head of how he could make an introduction, all of which ended with the girl calling him a creep.

Finally, after ten minutes, Edward reached the front of the line. He realized in his attempts to complete the quest he hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu.

“What will you be having today” a tall tan worker asked, his tattooed arms pleasantly stretching out the sleeves of his shirt. Edward just opened and closed his mouth like a fish, mind suddenly blank of every coffee drink ever, including coffee.

The worker, whose name tag ironically read “Tag” saw his confusion and smiled. “It's a big menu I know. It's fall, so you can never go wrong with a PSL.” He saw Edwards look confused and he sheepishly clarified “Pumpkin spice latte.”

“I’ll do that,” Edward said, voice quiet but clear. He took a deep breath then before he could think about it blurted out “I’m Edward by the way”.

Tag gave a handsome grin and wrote the name on a cup. “Thanks, Edward, I’ll that get you out for you right away.”

Edward heard a “ding” but ignored it and the notifications that popped up as he paid on the tablet Tag turned towards him. His hands shook as he selected the largest tip options and stumbled over to the designated area to stand while waiting for a drink and looked at the notifications.

“You have reached level three. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Social Sync: You are naturally attuned to the tone and rhythm of conversation making awkward pauses and interruptions a thing of the past.”

New quests popped up as well, two this time. “Make someone laugh” and “Offer someone advice.”

As the messages appeared Edward felt the same strange pain in his face, like the soreness he sometimes got after smiling all day with Leon. He lifted a hand to his face and felt skin much smoother than his normal rough, dry, pockmarked complexion. His weak chin, which had always been a source of insecurity no longer felt totally concave but pushed out somewhat lending a strange sharpness to his jaw. Edward was about to take out his phone to examine his reflection when he heard a voice beside him.

“He’s so dreamy, isn’t he,” a man said in his right ear. All his life Edward had been painfully scrawny, wrists the size of cucumber and ribs showing through his pale skin. This man was even more slender like he could break with a strong gust of wind. He held a coffee cup that had the name Trent on the side. The guy didn't seem to mind Edwards's silence and continued staring at Tag longingly. “The coffee here is so bitter but the eye candy is so sweet” he mused.

“Yeah that guy is what I would call a full-sized candy bar” the comment came out before Edward had time to think. It was a mediocre joke, wordy and unoriginal to a fault, but to painfully shy and unfunny Edward he felt like he was a standup comedian. Trent smiled and gave a slight chuckle, though his quest remained incomplete, probably because the laugh was fake.

“He’s a Snickers, and let's just say I’m not allergic to nuts.” Edward tried again, this time eliciting a better reaction from Trent. A slight giggle was all it took for the quest to complete and Edwards' experience bar to increase half the way to level four.

“Well both of us are going to go hungry. He’s straight.”

“Really” Edward asked. As a closeted gay until he was 19, when he had finally worked up the courage to tell Leon, Edward thought he had pretty good gaydar, and that Tag guy was anything but straight. “How do you know?” He asked Social Sync perk causing him to put the perfect pause between his declaration of doubt and his question without him even noticing.

“He used to date some girl” Trent responded with a touch of disgust.

“Maybe he’s bi,” Edward said and Trent’s face lit up as if he had never considered the thought.

“Oh wow, do you really think so” He asked excitedly. “Now that you say it he is kind of flirty when he gives me my drink.”

“You should just go up and talk to him” Edward advised sagely. “I mean what is the worst that could happen.” The advice was hollow seeing as how Edward had never even breathed in the direction of any of his crushes. Trent seemed to sense this and looked at Edward dubiously. The game system however didn't seem to care. It marked his “give advice” quest as complete and alerted him he had reached level four with a ding. At this rate, Leon didn't stand a chance of reaching level ten before him.

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Charisma, +1 Intelligence, +0.3 Strength.”

“Sage: Your charisma gives you an innate knowledge of people's desires, both conscious and unconscious. Note: The higher your charisma the more attuned this sense becomes. Note: this effect is 92.22% more effective on people with a penis.”

Edward felt a shift both in his physiology and in his brain, like before he felt his face move, bones like continental plates drifting every so slightly apart into a more attractive configuration.

Inside his head, he felt something shift far more drastically. The three +1 boosts to his intelligence had been so slight he barely noticed them, just a slight speeding up of his thoughts and a boost to his reasoning ability. This new change in his mind was drastic, impossible not to notice. A sixth sense emerged, filling his head with a source of knowledge he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. It was almost as if he had gained the ability to read minds only not so strong and without any words, only feelings. Suddenly Edward felt Trent’s desire, a sexual one, not just for the barista, but also for the group of frat boys in the corner of the shop and strangely enough for Edward. He felt others' desires too, though much less clearly.

Two guys standing to his left both hoped the other would buy the alcohol for tonight's party. The other men in the shop only gave wisps of desire. Edward suspected that had something to do with proximity and his still relatively low charisma.

The women on the other hand Edward could barely sense, only receiving a small tingle like TV static instead of anything readable. Edward wondered at that strange 92.22% bonus towards men. Edward took a moment to reflect on the class he had been assigned. Could Leon be right? Could the name of his class be a gay joke, that he was meant to charm not venomous creatures in baskets but instead the snake in men's pants? It seemed somehow too vulgar for a video game though Edward knew that was illogical. If it was true it begged some concerning questions, like how the game had known he was gay and what exactly it was setting him up to do.

“Would you go talk to him?” Trent asked suddenly snapping Edward back to the present. His sixth sense faded to the back of his mind, though he could still sense Trent’s desire. “Sorry I know that's a lot to ask but I think you would have more luck than me.” He looked at Edward with puppy dog eyes filled with earnest hope. “Be my wingman?”

A notification appeared obscuring a part of Edward’s vision.

“Quest offered! Set up Trent and Tag romantically. Reward: XP”

A box under the quest notification had two boxes with “yes” and “no” options. Edward had no idea how to select either option. Out loud he said “I’ll do my best,” the notification disappeared and reappeared small in the quest part of his interface.

Trent smiled “Really? I can’t thank you enough.” He felt Trent’s desire shift from lust to hope. “Just like using a pickup line or something. Don’t make it too awkward” he said suddenly nervous.

“Don’t worry I got this,” Edward said with about 1000% times more confidence than he felt. He had absolutely no business getting other people's tail when he was still a virgin himself. Edward just knew he was going to make an absolute fool of himself.

It turned out that the quests to advance to level four were not as easy as Leon had imagined. The first quest “run a lap” proved exhausting but doable. Leon made his way to the elevated track that encircled the gym and with perfect form, if less perfect endurance, ran the loop. Before the game, Leon would have had to walk most of it, but the two levels and six points he had gained in strength allowed him to push through with a slow jog. The quest's completion bumped him 3/4 of the way to level four. He had no doubt the other quest would get him all the way there if only it was possible.

“Do a pull-up.” How hard could one pull up be? Extremely difficult it turned out. Dangling from the elevated bar Leon tried with all his might to heft his flabby body up. He only managed to lift his head halfway before the effort became too much and he was forced to give up.

Leon knew it wasn’t his form keeping him from completing the exercise like it had been with the push-up. Instead, it came down to a plain and simple lack of strength. Leon didn't know what to do. He felt frustrated that he had hit a roadblock so soon. He looked at the experience progress bar, so tantalizingly close to the next level. Maybe he would have to do it the old-fashioned way. Train his back and his biceps extensively until he could do a pull-up on his own. Leon knew something like that would take weeks if not months but he was nothing if not stubborn.

Determined not to give up Leon found a set of dumbbells and began to lift with perfect form. The activity didn't provide the same instant gratification as leveling up did, but Leon was starting to understand how people could get addicted to this. As he worked his eyes wandered to the graphical display imprinted on either side of his vision. He found he could unfocus on the information and the display would blur unobscuring his vision. He focused again and the quest and progress bar came back into his field of vision. Leon couldn’t tell if he was imagining it but it seemed as if the bar was more full. He did a few more curls and watched the progress bar tick up the tiniest amount. He lifted the other arm and it moved again. He grabbed the largest weight he could conceivably lift and using all this strength curled it with both arms, the progress bar moved, still not much but more than before. Leon grinned. He was pretty sure he had just found an exploit.

Thirty minutes later a tired Leon prepared for his last set of leg presses to get him to level four. The “exploit” he had found wasn’t as much of a hack as he had originally hoped. Working out gave him experience to fill the bar but not nearly as efficiently as quests. He had to go from machine to machine loading up the maximum amount of weight he could lift, not much, and completing various exercises until that part of his body was completely exhausted. His “perfect form” perk ensured that he was able to complete each exercise to its fullest despite not knowing how to do any of the exercises. All he had to do was approach a machine or a set of weights and his body would suddenly assume the position.

Even with his perfect form protecting him from injury Leon was exhausted. The day's gym session was more exercise than he had ever done in his life. His hair was matted to his forehead and dark sweat spots had appeared around the collar and pits of his Superman shirt. His body felt like a sack of bricks like he could fall asleep and not wake up till his next birthday. Leon persisted and as he performed his tenth leg press he heard a ding. His legs slammed back to their resting position and he breathed heavily, feeling his body begin to change and notifications pop up.

“You have reached level four. You receive attribute points based on your class: +3 Strength, +1 Charisma +0.3 Intelligence.”

“You have gained a class perk.”

“Animal Endurance: The rate at which athletic activities tire you is decreased significantly while the rate of recovery is greatly improved. Note: the potency of this effect scales off of strength.”

Leon felt his muscles harden, his arms bulge, his legs bulk up and shift. His core burned as his abs shredded themselves and strengthened. The layer of fat on Leon’s body, though still present thinned. Underneath it his muscles went from average to distinctly fit, no great titan yet but also not a slouch either. His weariness from all the exercise it took to reach level four drained away thanks to his perk and Leon once again felt reinvigorated.

He marched over to the nearest pull-up bar and with only a small amount of effort hoisted himself up with the power of his upper body. The completed quest brought him a third of the way up to level five. Two more quests appeared. “Bench press a third of your body weight.” And “exchange workout tips”. Neither seemed especially difficult.

Leon looked around to see if he could find Cal to knock out the more social of the quests but the helpful runner was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Leon found a benchpress machine and went to load it up. Leon was shocked to realize he had no idea what his body weight was. Before Altered Reality, Leon had weighed 230 pounds, now though he could be anything. Leon squinted at the holographic display in the sides of his vision and found with effort he was able to bring up a stats page.

Leon:

210 Pounds

5’10’’ Feet

Strength: 11

Charisma: 7

Intelligence: 8.9

When he played video games with his roommates Alvis was the one who focused on the numbers, min-maxing his character to be the strongest possible. Edward liked to talk to the NPCs, to understand the story, and Leon, well Leon liked to punch things and not worry too much about the boring stuff. Still, with his 8.9 in intelligence, Leon couldn't help but notice some changes to his body composition. There was the inch in height his body had gained from those three levels and the twenty pounds of weight he had lost. Leon suspected the total loss was more like 30 or 40 pounds of fat but that the added muscle made up the difference. His stats were interesting too. Leon hadn’t much thought about it but based on the quests and perks he had received the Juggernaut class seemed to be one that focused on athleticism. Despite that, he still received a marginal boost to charisma and intelligence at each level which he supposed were meant to keep him well rounded. Leon did the math, the current numbers would mean that his intelligence before the game had been eight, which seemed right, and his strength a two, also unfortunately right. The four in charisma seemed rude, but Leon supposed he had never had much luck with women for a reason.

Doing math once again Leon loaded up the bench press, factoring in the weight of the bar to reach seventy pounds one-third of his weight. He assumed the position under it, with perfect form thanks to his perk; then with substantial effort, Leon lifted the bar over his chest and with as much control as he could manage lowered it. That was the easy part, the hard part was pushing it back up. Leon clenched his toes, bugged his eyes, and pushed with all his eleven strength upward. His mind suddenly flashed to the bar crushing him, rolling down onto his neck and ending this game. Panic more than determination got the bar up and back to its starting position. The quest was completed and the progress bar to level five was filled in another third.

Only once the bar was fully returned to its resting position could Leon see the girl standing over him, upside down from his prone view.

“I was ready to pull that thing off you.” The girl said in something between a mix of condescension and admiration. Leon sat up.

“Umm, thanks.” He said nervously. He recognized this girl from his advanced biology seminar, although she didn't seem to know him. She looked very pretty with her high ponytail and tight yoga pants, which only made his voice stutter more. “I’m Leon.”

“Cassy,” she said.

An idea came to his mind. “Got any tips for this one?” Leon asked, hoping to knock out his remaining quest.

Before Cassy could answer though a tall man in a low-cut tank top that showed off his ripped torso and cannonball shoulders approached and wrapped his mammoth vascular arms around her. “Cassy, why the fuck are you talking to this fatty?” He asked as if Leon were some flaming garbage outside his window, offensive to his sight. Leon recognized him as a member of Alpha Sigma, one of the best and most dickish fraternities on campus.

“Fuck off Hunter” Cassy said rolling her eyes.

“Yeah fuck off Hunter” Leon repeated. He instantly regretted it.

Hunter's eyes went wide, and a vein on his neck began to pulse. Leon stared back at him with a level of defiance he knew defied both the social order and logic. Leon had always been brash, a trait now manifested in full force by the extreme comfort he felt in the gym due to his Gym Rat perk.

Cassy shot him a look asking if he was trying to get himself killed then turned to Hunter to defuse the situation. “Come on babe let's go.”

Hunter heard none of it. He got right up in Leon's face so close Leon could smell the sweat on his body and the ZYN in his breath. “Listen here tubby, this is a gym. The McDonalds is down the street. Now fuck off or I’ll turn your happy meal into chicken tenders. Ya hear?” He stood up and started to walk away Cassy unhappily following after him. “And don’t ever talk to my girl again homo.”

Leon knew he should be scared but instead, he found the whole interaction funny, his “Gym Rat” perk really might be working too well. “Got any gym tips for me” he called after Hunter, wanting to still get something out of the interaction. He couldn’t wait till he was bigger than that arrogant prick and no one could talk to him that way.

The frat bro turned around “Eat a fucking salad” he called. Leon’s last quest remained incomplete. He wondered why for a second then realized it said “exchange workout tips.”

“You should really get off the roids, it's killing the last two of your brain cells,” Leon called after him. Hunter moved to turn around, probably to beat the shit out of Leon but Cassy grabbed his hand and dragged him away. The quest completed and Leon reached level five. Not too bad for seven charisma he thought proudly. The now familiar ding sounded along with a wall of notifications. Leon began to feel strange. A biting ache began to thrum in the pit of his stomach. Doubled over Leon rushed to the bathroom, careful to head in in the opposite direction of Hunter and Cassy.

He burst into the empty men's room and then into the nearest stall he could find. As he sat on the toilet the pain intensified. Something was happening and it hurt like all hell.

Edward had no idea why Trent had even started talking to him. That wasn’t something people ever did to ugly Edward, maybe point and whisper, but never strike up a conversation and surly never ask him for help. It must be his stupid charisma and perks scrambling everyone's brain he concluded. Edward was about to turn back to Trent and tell him he had made a mistake and that he actually couldn’t help him when he heard “Edward” yell from behind the bar. He saw Tag the sexy fit barista holding a steaming to-go cup and looking around the coffee shop for Edward. Trent gave him an encouraging smile and a thumbs up.

Edward felt as if he was moving in slow motion like he was making his way to the gallows. Tag saw him coming and smiled, extending the drink towards him. Edward reached out to take the drink, his finger ever so slightly brushing up against Tag’s hand in the process. He wasn’t sure if it was the touch or just the proximity but he felt his new “Sage” perk activate in vivid detail.

A picture suddenly flashed in Edward’s mind. A subterranean location full of flashing lights and loud rhythmic music, a rave Edward realized. He saw Tag standing alone in an open button-down shirt showing off sexy tattooed muscles. Edward flashed back to reality. His sudden vision had caused him to linger a bit too long grabbing his drink and he jerked his hand away awkwardly.

Edward retracted his hand and gave a smile hoping to save the moment. “Hey, are you going to the rave tonight?” Edward asked as casually as he could “I think I have seen you at a few before. I heard the one tonight is supposed to be especially hype.”

Tag seemed surprised for a moment then reassessed Edward his demeanor shifting from customer service friendly, to peer in-group easygoing. “You mean sewer fest? I want to man, but all my friends are busy tonight and I don’t want to go alone.”

“Oh damn that sucks,” Edward said. He was mindful of the stares he was getting from the other students around him but couldn’t bring himself to care, this was going too well. “I wish I could go but I have a paper I have to write tonight. My friend Trent was actually just saying he was thinking about going though.” Edward pointed back at Trent who gave a little wave.

“Oh, I know him.” Tag said when he saw Trent. “That would be sick man. I really don’t want to miss Sewer Fest. How about this,” he took a cup sleeve and started to write on it, “Give your friend my number and tell him to text me” he handed it to Edward.

“Will do. You two have fun” Edward said as he walked away. Trent looked at him wide-eyed and was about to say something but Edward made a signal that they shouldn’t talk about it inside.

“This is for you,” Edward said as he handed Trent Tag’s number once they were outside.

“No way. You're actually a god. How did you do that?” Trent asked amazed.

“Don’t get too excited,” Edward said sheepishly. “You're going to a rave, and it’s in the sewer.”

“A rave? You know what, I’ll take it. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh, it was nothing. Honestly, you helped me just as much as I helped you.”

Trent ignored the cryptic comment. “Well I should go, I guess I have to find an outfit to wear to a sewer. Would all white be a bad idea?” He handed Edward his phone. “Will you put your number in my phone? I’ll text you how tonight goes.”

The two exchanged information then Trent left. Edward stood there sipping his latte, which really was too bitter. He saw Trent typing out a message on his phone as he walked away.

Moments later Edward heard a “ding” as the quest was completed and he reached level five. Notifications sprung up in his vision, more than usual. Edward couldn’t read them, he couldn’t focus on anything. His mostly full coffee slipped out of his hand and spilled onto the ground as a golden nebula sprung up around him and his face and body were wracked with pain. He started to scream.

#male tf #male transformation #musclegrowth #tf #ai image #reality change

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ch4nb4ng · 21 hours ago

Text

Expect the Unexpected

Pairing: Han Jisung X afab!reader

Word count: 9.7k

Genre: Childhood friends to lovers (stoned college edition

Warnings: 18+ explicit minors do not interact. Substance use, sexual acts under the influence of substance use, Kissing, naked bodies, mentions of genitals, fingering, handjob, orgasm, mentions of semen

Tag list: @seo--changbin @j-0ne25 @cb97whoree

@kpopsstuffs

Note: HEY guys, its been a while, and like actually a while this time.... Had this sitting in the draft for almost a year. Life has very much gotten in the way but i am back hopefully, with the aim of engaging in writing when I feel like and no pressuring myself. Anyways, it's nice to be back and I hope you enjoy.

Summary: There was a blizzard, resulting in your college dorm being blocked from all human interaction. Things are about to, however change when your childhood best friend, and wall neighbour comes over and has other things in mind to pass the time with weed included as one of them.

The first time living away from your family and by yourself was an experience that you very much valued. No curfews, no worrying about what your parents were going to say when you’ve had several drinks at a party, and definitely no nagging to make your bed everyday. Make no mistake, you loved your parents and siblings a lot, it was just nice sometimes to have the complete privacy that was your dorm room every now and then.

There were moments that you did become homesick. On the contrary to having your own private, personal space, especially during the trying moments of completing long winded assignments, studying for exams, or even just having the feeling of familiarity when you hugged somebody that was your blood. There were always pros and cons to living an independent college life. At this current moment in time, you were experiencing one of the more annoying parts of living in a college building.

Deep into the winter seasons of the year, while also living in a state that was known for having extreme weather patterns during this time of the year was your least favorite part. Once the news alerted ‘warning, blizzard storm approaching in the next 48 hours,’ you knew that the college would be sending an official email, urging students to stay in the dorms, and barricade all exits.

This was where you were currently at.

Lying in your bed, phone up to your face as you reassured your family through facetime that you were fine and had no plans of leaving anytime soon.

“You guys know the drill,” you smiled, “I’m fine, two days in and I am alive and well, just a little bored.”

“Okay well don’t forget that Jisung’s mother and I got those rooms next to each other so you guys always have a little bit of company.”

“Yes mom I know,” you laughed, “I might text him later. He had an assignment due this afternoon and I don’t want to bother him.”

“Okay love, we will talk to you later.”

“Love you too, bye.”

The sound representing the end of the call rang through the speaker of your phone. The object fell on your chest as you let out a loud sigh, your boredom growing with each second.

Jisung. Han Jisung was someone that could be labeled as many different things to you. Friend, confidant, best friend, study buddy; home. Jisung was the jack of all trades in your book.

Knowing each other since the two of you were 10, meeting at a weekend competition of playing mixed teams basketball bloomed into a relationship you didn't know was even possible to have with a man. Jisung was the friend that kind of just stuck, even planning to go to the same college as you. It was a packaged deal, you and him, but it made you laugh, because the two of you could not be more of the opposite. Jisung was the shyer type. Although you met through sporting engagements, that was more something that his parents put him into to see what he liked. He was very intelligent, a strong preference to have his head in the books rather than going out to a new party every weekend. Make no mistake, Jisung was a very polite individual, always talking to those that gave the time. However, he was much more comfortable with people that he knew. In contrast, you were a social butterfly, able to make friends every corner you turned. Parties and drinking every weekend; anywhere but the was where the majority of your time was spent.

Therefore, when all the buildings on campus were closed, it drove you crazy. There was nothing that could be hated more than being forced to stay inside in your eyes. The confinement always made you reconsider why it was here, in this state, that you chose to attend college. But it was when you heard a knock on the door that you were reminded why. Leg flopping out of your bed sheets, they dragged you to the door, your body sprinkled in warmth when you opened it to your kind looking friend who happened to be smiling back. Your body turned to the side, hand out as he strolled into your apartment, plopping down on the couch like it was his own. You quickly followed, taking the spot next to him as you turned to face him.

“Are you bored yet?”

“Of course I am,” you sigh, walking in front of Jisung as you walk into the living room of your apartment and sitting on the couch, head in your hands, leaning forward so much that you could almost fall off the couch “as if it took you this long to realise.”

“Y/n, the email was only sent out 4 hours ago.”

“Yeah but there was supposed to be a party tonight at Changbin’s frat,” you whined, lips fully pouted, “I really wanted to go.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, placing his hands behind his head, legs kicked out on the small table in front of him, “it’s a real shame that the party is canceled.”

Your best friend managed to avoid eye contact, voice dripping with sarcasm. To be truthful, you knew that even though he would go with you, to make sure you're safe of course, and DEFINITELY for that reason only, Jisung would never choose to willingly go to such a party. It wasn’t that he was a complete prude little innocent boy, no. There had been a multitude of times where you could hear him, or the other girls that failed to stay quiet and not echo through the paper thin dorm walls. Jisung just simply wasn’t the type to go out to parties, especially when everyone there was a slobbering mess on one substance or another, especially you. There was a feeling that if you were merely a stranger to him, Jisung would most likely, outside of classes, be a ghost. A myth that supposedly walks down the hallways of your college. Seeing as the two of you were opposite in that regard, you tried to respect Jisung as much as possible. Not bringing your bong, joints, or excessive amounts of alcohol whenever he came over, because you knew if the shoe was on the other foot, he would also do the same. Jisung only had the occasional puff anyway, much less than you, so the need to have it around constantly felt unnecessary.

“Try not to ooze with excitement,” you raised your eyebrows, a fake smile plastering across your lips as you failed to see his attitude change. Good old Jisung for you.

“I’ll try my best.”

“Anyway,” you replied, leaning forward and grabbing the TV remote, pressing the small red power button in the top right corner, watching the plasma screen light up with the logo belonging to Netflix. You turn again to the man beside you, a warmth feeling in your chest at how placid he looked, patiently waiting for you to put something on.

“Is there anything you would like to watch for the next 12 hours?”

Yes, 12 hours. That was you being optimistic that this storm would be quick.

“Hmm,” Jisung hummed, bringing his index finger and thumb to his chin, thinking about what to watch, “there isn’t anything I’ve been keeping up with.”

“Ah I see. Shall we just scroll until we find something we like?”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

Clicking on your profile, the first row of TV shows were ‘Watch it again,’ followed by ‘Top hits for Y/n.’ Nothing really caught your eye, or his seeing as he would say something if he did. It wasn’t until your ‘continue watching for y/n’ that you gasped, loud. The word ‘Bridgerton’ has popped up in continuing. At first you were confused. Although you were an avid lover of that show, you had not watched it recently. It wasn’t until you selected it that you realized a new season had come out. Jisung remained puzzled, seeing as this was not something he had a remote interest in watching.

“Oh my god Jisung can we-”

“No man,” he complained, “you know this is the last thing I would want to watch.”

“Please,” you begged, placing your hands in the form of a prayer, remote still in hand, “it’s so good I beg of you please to just consider. I’ll do anything.”

“Ugh fine,” he hissed, “but I cannot be 100% sober for this shit.”

Your eyebrow furrowed, displaying a look of confusion. This was the thing you would expect someone like Jisung to say.

“Hmm ok,” you hummed, still slightly confused, “I’ll get my stash of vodka.”

“Hmmm no,” he shrugged, a slightly suggestive glimmer on his face, “something that will be long-lasting, if you’re catching my drift.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows repeatedly, leaving your mind to imply one substance only. Weed.

“You want to smoke, really?”

“Yes y/n, I want to smoke weed, is that ok with you?”

“Of course it is,” you reassured, “you know that if you were here or not I would probably do it anyway.”

“Okay.”

“Done.”

“Okay, and we have to watch from the beginning or I will go back to my room.”

“Yes yes okay fine,” you leaned over, pressing a grateful kiss on his cheek, “you’re the best. I’ll get my stash now.”

You scurried off to your room, quickly, opening the small draw on your side table next to your bed. Your stash, the prized possession that was the calm before the storm. Smoking in your downtime was something that you very much looked forward to, especially if you were unnecessarily stressed out. Your face lit up and the clouds of dark green hue clouded the plastic bag that was in your sight, fingers grasping the edge as you wiggled back to your original spot. Although you agreed, it was strange of your friend to want to just smoke out of boredom. The only time you had seen him do it was at small gatherings, and even then, it was one puff and done, usually followed by heavy chest hitting coughs. It always made you laugh. It also made you feel bad, knowing that if he didn’t hang around with you, he probably wouldn’t do these kinds of things. Jisung was an adult who could make his own decisions, but there was always part of you that thought about him, his family; would they approve of him doing this? It was a lot to think about sometimes.

It was Jisung’s turn to hold the remote, flicking back to season 1 episode 1, before scooching closer to you. Jisung was keen to get in on the action, something you were definitely not used to. He went to reach for the paper, but you grabbed him by the wrist, making him pause for a moment.

“Jisung, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” he smiled, unsure why you were asking such a question, “it’s not the first time I’ve done it y/n, relax.”

“Yeah I know,” you shrugged, “it’s just, I’ve only seen you smoke once, and you looked like you were about to cough up your lungs.”

“Oh,” he sighed, looking away in embarrassment, “you saw that?”

“Unfortunately, I did.”

“Yeah well I can do it,” he barked, somewhat getting defensive, pointing at the TV to deflect from his deficits “you’re making me watch this shit.”

“Okay okay,” you whined, letting go of his wrist, “but please let me show you how to roll and smoke a joint properly so you don’t actually hurt yourself.”

The two of you giggled simultaneously, resulting in Jisung reluctantly nodding in agreement. He watched closely as he watched you open both bags, paper on the right, weed on the left.

“Okay so,” you began to speak, “firstly,” you paused again, using your index and middle finger on your right hand to slide into the plastic, “I like to slide my fingers in like this, touching the least amount of paper possible.”

Jisung pushed his lenses right up to his face, making sure his concentration was avid; missing a step was not an option for him. Once the sheet was out of paper, you placed it on top of the plastic. You like to take pride in your work, especially being a part time stoner, of your supplies. Seeing as it cost you a significant amount, it felt wrong to not get the best out of your product.

“Then,” you continued, “you get the bag with the goods, and I like to,” pausing again, opening the bag and grabbing one cluster, “just crush it in my fingers as small as I can, and sprinkle it in a line across the center.”

He nodded again, observing how smooth your fingers were, fingertips sprinkling green across the white square placed in the table.

“Are you following?”

“Of course,” he nodded, furrowing his eyebrows to show his concentration. Jisung swallowed a nervous gulp, remembering that he really had no idea what he was going to do when he coughed his lungs up one more time. Yes, he was concentrating on how you did it, but he couldn’t help it. His cognitions were descending into the gutter, especially watching the two fingers he tended to use when he was in lewd acts himself. It made him nervous.

Sure, there were intrusive thoughts about you being a part of his fantasies and desires, but Jisung knew better than to act on something that came from pure lust. Instead, pressing his lips together, attempting to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt from his lips. You, however, were too smart to not notice him suppressing his laughter. Your elbow nudged his side, a sheepish gaze as you began to question him.

“What’s so funny?”

“What,” he questioned, puffing his cheeks and shaking his head, patting your arm, “keep going.”

You decided to shrug it off, not letting his immaturity obstruct you from your prized possession. Next was the rolling. Lifting the paper with the utmost precaution, the material was brought to your lips, tongue sticking out as your lips lay a thin layer of saliva to coat the edge of the paper.

“See what I did with my tongue?”

‘Oh god,’ was all Jisung could think, mind once again heading straight to the gutter. All he could think about was what your tongue, if it was positioned under a different appendage, how different it could be. His testosterone was raging, but once again, he knew better. To Jisung, nothing could be worse than putting his own selfish wants ahead of your friendship. However, the longer he stared at you practically making out with the joint, licking it up and down, side to side, making sure the two ends stuck together, the harder it became to push his thoughts away from such dirty crevices of his mind. The torture was over for him once you withdrew the now complete joint from your lips. You were satisfied with how it turned out, a smile of approval, and a hint of arrogance plastered on your face.

“And that’s how you do it. Now your turn.”

“Ok,” he sighed, “swap spots with me so I can do it.”

“Yes sir,” you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes you obeyed, allowing your best friend to now sit in front of the two bags. He followed your steps with ease, using great precision with his fingers to eject the weed and paper from each plastic container. He was natural. Only the two fingers, being the same ones you, strategically rolling the two digits back and forth. He was swift, nimble, adjectives you normally liked to use when you felt the touch of a man. It was your turn to swallow nervously, a small pit of arousal brewing in your lower abdomen as the small pelts of green substance dissipated across the center of the paper, just like you did. Holy shit, how could something as simple as rolling a joint be so attractive? Jisung brought a hand to his hair, running it quickly through the brown mop to get it out of his face, aiming to let no obstacles get in his way. He gave you one look, a gaze of concern when he noticed your eyes glued to his hands.

“You okay?”

Your eyes shot straight to his, attempting to not be mesmerized by the joyful expression covering his features. Fuck, why was his smile having such an impact on you right now? He chuckled, assuming that you were just playing around, but in reality, you were definitely distracted by the attractiveness of your friend with a sudden fresh washed mop of brown hair, glasses, and shining complexion of the side of his face as the light from the window cascaded across the high points of his cheeks. You faked a smile, nodding as you egged him on to continue. Panic began to settle in however when you saw the bare tip of his tongue coating the corner of the white material. Holy shit, he really was a natural. Licking the edge right across in one swift motion, not using too much saliva, yet still using enough. It was almost offensive how much better his joint looked compared to yours. But that was just what Jisung was: a perfectionist with little effort in trying to attain said perfection. He didn’t stray too much out of the norm, yet when he did try something, he was always good at it from the first try. Sometimes it made you wonder what other things he would be good at. But that was for another time, with a similar mindset in the fact that a brief thought of sexual fantasy was not worth more than your friendship. Especially if he didn't reciprocate, the awkwardness after would be something you most definitely could not handle.

“Woah,” you gasped, grasping the joint out of his hand, intensely observing it from each angle, “I knew you would be good at this.”

Your best friend beamed at your approval, eagerly waiting for the next step.

“Oh my lighter, I’ll go grab it now.”

You forgot before, but this gave you time to completely subtract those devil filled thoughts of Jisung by not looking at him for a brief moment. It worked, because as soon as you opened the drawer and saw your lighter, all you could focus on was lighting that shit up.

Coming back to the living room once more, you placed the fire breathing object on the table, offering Jisung to go first. He looked hesitant, unsure how or where he should start. It was adorable when Jisung was like this, because he was clueless not very often. You decided to pick it back up, pressing the flicker down once to ignite the flame.

“Do you want to go first, or would you like me to go first?”

“Uhm,” he hummed, “I think you should go first, you know, show me how to do this shit properly.”

“Okay,” you chuckled, letting go of the flicker on the lighter, handing it over to him, “well I usually don’t light my own joints so would you do me the honors?”

“Of course,” he purred, the smoothness of his tone delivering a sudden pulse to your core. You leant forward, completely forgetting that your clothing was completely revealing by all means. The looseness of your long sleeve white shirt was telling, the action of leaning forward exposing the subtlety of your cleavage. You could see Jisung’s eyes travel straight to them, but only for a brief moment. He was trying to be as respectful as he could, but it was impossible when your chest was right there. His thumb dragged with ease, flame luminous as he brought the orange tipped flame to the edge of your joint. The tip turned dark immediately, and the taste of the herb came with that. The sensation was immediate, as you grabbed the joint with two fingers, pulling the object away from your lips and letting the warmth of the smoke spilling, down your chest, and back up again, eyes fluttering shut as you puffed the smoke from your lips, the feeling of nostalgia hitting you.

Jisung watched you in awe, amazed at how easily smoking came to you. He wanted to try so bad. He wanted to prove to you that he could do something that you did not expect of him. But he was patient, waiting for you to open your eyes before he started.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in pure bliss, lifting your eyelids slightly, “that is some good shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yessss,” you hissed, grabbing onto his hands holding the lighter, sliding it out of his hand “your turn. Place the joint between your lips and lean forward.”

Jisung did as he was told, adjusting his positioning to being abnormally close to you. You didn’t pay much mind, the small flame igniting once again, but you paused, almost forgetting that he in fact did now know what he was doing.

“Ok so once I light this,” you paused, using your free hand to squeeze his jaw, “are you listening?”

His eyes widened at your sudden touch, a small nod which was obstructed by your somewhat firm grasp.

“Ok so once I light this, take a small breath in, hold for a second, and blow it out.”

“Yes maam,” he smiled, looking deep into your eyes before you passed him the bud, waiting for him to grasp it between his two fingers. When he does, still keeping his eyes on you, simultaneously feeling your brain drop slightly at how intense his gaze was in this very moment, lips forming into the shape of an o as the paper came to his lips, taking the smallest puff, and blowing it out. You were impressed, seeing this was the first time he smoked anything without coughing his lungs out. A smile came to your lips, proud of your best friend in the moment.

“Woah,” he sighed, finally breaking his stare, eyes changing towards the blunt. His chest descended as he took another puff, turning back to face the tv as his back gently slid into the couch.

“How was that?”

“Is it crazy that I already feel more relaxed than before?”

His response made you giggle, glad he was enjoying himself.

“I told you,” sighing as you snatched the blunt from his grip, taking a long drag, “I only smoke the high quality stuff.”

“Sure do,” he growled, sinking deeper and deeper into the couch. Jisung grabbed the remote, pressing play on the TV, greeted by a girl in a royal style gown. He forgot that it was Bridgerton that got him here in this predicament.

***

It did not take much for the two of you to feel the consequences of smoking. One thing you hated to admit was that you craved the presence of someone next to you when under the influence. But not just like in your orbit no. Like needing a lack of personal space. To be suffocated. Which is why the two of you were sitting the way you were now. Your legs atop of his own, head buried into his chest, with your arms wrapped around his torso.

The intrusive thoughts always won when you were high, which is how your fingertips came to be not just on your best friend, but under his shirt, skin to skin contact. You couldn’t deny that the texture of his defined build, muscles budding at each ridge was hard to miss.

Bridgerton had been playing, but if anything, at this point, it had become background noise, the main noise becoming the tension that thickened between the two of you with each passing minute. Although the relationship was close,the idea of intimacy was never something that had come up as a thought. Sober you, and sober him, would never do such a thing. Feeling that maybe it would cross a boundary.

But the usual thought did not cross your mind. Or his for that matter, Jisung’s digits generously spread across the outside of your thigh, dangerously close to your behind. It felt nice, honestly. Yes, you had your fair share of one night stands. Male attention followed you, easily, whether you were looking for it or not. With that being said, however, it had been a while since you remembered what a real man's touch felt like. Especially your best friend. Being a biology major, Jisung was consistently practical in the lab, using his hands in the most intricate ways. Whether looking at a small piece of bacteria in a microscope, or dissecting an organ of some sort, he was always using his hands, and boy, was that evident when you felt the texture of his callous palms spreading across the back of your leg.

The puffing came to a halt, joint burning down halfway to its bud, but it was enough to heighten your senses. The two of you looked at each other, eyelids a little more droopy than usual as the both of you giggled, looking back at the TV. By the time the two of you were actually paying attention to the storyline, Daphne and Simon were getting married.

“So what’s the premises?”

“Premises?” You giggled, finding humor in your best friend’s speaking mishap.

“Yeah like,” he paused, maneuvering your body to be closer to his, leaving now no room on the couch between the two of you, “like what’s the show about.”

“It’s a period romance show based on a series of books.”

“Ohh, I thought you didn't like to read, you fucking nerd.”

“Oi,” you nudged him, completely missing the side of his arm and falling onto his chest, “I don't, that’s why I'm watching the show instead.”

“Right, anyway, go on.”

“Right, so Daphne and Simon basically pretended to be together so this other guy, creepy as fuck, wouldn’t have to marry her. But then they realized they developed feelings for each other but are both inendial about it so they're discussing the topic on their wedding day and just going through with it because it was too late for them to change their mind.” If either of you did not see the irony in this situation.

“That literally made no fucking sense,” Jisung sighed, using his free hand to scratch the back of his head, “but to be honest, I really can’t concentrate on anything you’re saying.”

“Damnnn,” you gasped, leaning up to look at him, “you’re high.”

“Yeah pfft,” Jisung hummed, keeping his glazed eyes focused on you, “I feel like I can just say or do anything right now.”

“That’s the beauty of smoking Ji,” you smiled, turning away and facing the screen. It was at this point that married TV couples were in their honeymoon suite. If you were being honest, it was hard to keep up with the dialogue due to the speed and the actual content being in old english. It was much less difficult to follow the visuals, their facial expressions, how they spoke. It was still captivating, watching the two actors get close and closer, right until their lips met. As they continued, the room felt silent yet tense. The two of you watched adamantly as things began to heat up, Simon assisting Daphne in undressing herself. It was then that you felt Jisung adjust himself under your legs, brushing him off of you as he sunk back into the couch. You thought it was strange, but you decided it was better to ignore it, remembering how mesmerizing the scene of Daphne and Simon making love for the first time really was. As they moved to their new bed, Simon hovering over Daphne’s innocent body, a new sensation was forming in your lower abdomen, but it didn't stop there, unmistakably flying right to your core, again. While recalling how mesmerizing this particular scene was, you also forgot how much it aroused you simultaneously. This was a mistake. Being high and horny was not a good combination, especially when Jisung, your best friend, was sitting next to you, previously with his hands on you. It was probably better to disregard these lustful feelings, they surely would pass.

“Oh shit,” Jisung mumbled, grasping for the small decorative pillow next to him, placing it over his crotch area, “this is um, wow, it’s uh-”

“Yeah I kinda forgot,” you replied before facing him, noticing the now pillow covering the beginning of his lower limbs. At first you were confused, eyebrows furrowed at why he would do such a thing. Instead of minding your business, and beating the paranoia of not knowing what he was doing that was amplified after smoking, you were now holding the pillow, the sounds of Daphne’s moans and groans the only noise that could be heard. As soon as Jisung noticed your grip on the pillow, he resisted you, not wanting you to see what was happening underneath the soft object.

“Jisung,” you laughed nervously, genuinely confused at his behavior, “what are you doing with my pillow.”

“Nothing,” he hushed, attempting to dismiss your question with the tone of his voice floating thin into the air, “keep watching.”

He pointed at the screen, head nodding in the same direction as you let go of the pillow and focused on the TV. But that was the worst mistake you could have made, because it was Simon’s turn to undress, and once he did, it really was game over. The two of them there, completely naked as he began to thrust into his new wife. Simon’s grunts were short, staccato like, while Daphne was more graceful, each moan spilling into her husband's ear as the two of them went at it.

“Fuck this is making me really horny.”

As soon as your best friend said that, he brought his fingers to his lips, leaving your jaw dropped. Did he really just say that, or were you hallucinating?

“Woops,” Jisung mumbled, “the weed is really making me lose my filter. Sorry.”

You should have hated that he blurted that out. Letting the intrusive thoughts win, especially when high, was not a good sign. But it brought the ache that momentarily dulled right back. Looking back at the screen, Jisung now removed the pillow and revealed his full hard on through his thin fabric sweatpants: it was becoming too much. Now suddenly, the only thought that stayed consistent was wanting the same thing on the TV. Right here. Right now. With Jisung. Your best friend.

“Don’t be sorry,” you cooed, moving closer to him, “I would be lying if I said I wasn’t either.”

He said nothing, only gasping in a subtle manner as Jisung looked at you, all of a sudden your features projecting to him as illustrious, appetizing. Jisung wanted nothing more than to devour you in the current moment.

“Is this normal?”

Jisung’s voice was so nonchalant, tone lacking concern or hesitation at your lack of proximity. It was kind of adorable, really. The normal friend you knew was one to freak out if he ever did something like this. Usually so prim and proper in every setting. In contrast, there was something sexy about the way he was acting. Sure, actions had consequences, but thinking with clarity was not a priority.

“I would say so,” you purred, voice soothing as your fingers crept onto the front of his knee closest to you, “weed makes me horny too.”

“O-oh,” his voice shook, suddenly a little nervous by the prospect of you touching him in a possibly arousing way, “Y/n.”

Jisung’s voice was breathy, chest heaving very slowly as his eyes shot down to your body. Suddenly, your best friend was amazed by every single curve and creativity of your figure. As he brought his hands to your behind, it suddenly felt so soft, hands unforgivingly slipping past the waistband of your shorts, making direct contact with your skin. The contact made you hot, using your free hand to fan yourself. Jisung took the hand of yours that was moving deathly slowly along his inner thigh off of him, body now on his side facing you as he withdrew his hand groping your ass. Instead, he moved it around to the front, but rather than dipping straight into your folds, he slipped in the layer under your outer layer, opting for the space inbetween, digits spreading across your core covered by the miniscule fabric.. It was better this way, he thought. The sensation of touch was much more sensitive under the influence as he wanted to feel every texture of your body that was possible. You giggled at the brush of his gentle touch, a small gasp quickly following up once you realized that his fingers, although not making direct contact, were feeding that arousal felt between your legs. Like scratching an impossible itch. His eyes were already on you when your neck turned, facing him.

“Shit,” you breathed, “you’re really good at that.”

“I’m barely touching you,” he hissed, lips getting closer to your own. What is happening right now? You should be saying no; rejected his advances. Your best friend. Jisung. The shy, little boy you had known him to be all of his life. But the longer his fingers pushed around that sensitive button of yours, the more your legs spread open for him, hips gently bucking to reach for more surface area of his fingers. His confidence was charming, almost too much so. It made you want more and more, so much so that your internal conflict of stopping and telling him to keep going was disappearing with each lingering moment. Rationality, once a perplexity in your mind disappeared the moment his lips landed on yours. God they were sweet, soft; every texture that you know felt pleasant was coming to your mind the moment they moved against your own. His free hand came to the side of your face that was farthest away, index finger spread across your jaw as he moved his tongue, deeper and deeper, maintaining his dominance over you. Fuck he was a good kisser, a whine erupting from your throat at how flexible his mouth was, bending over backwards to make sure that you were happy with the pace.

“Mhm,” you hummed, pulling away from a brief moment to remove all bottoms, panties included. All your best friend could do was chuckle, deeply, the shade of his eyes turning as dark as you had ever seen when he saw your bare pussy out, for him. His fingers latched on immediately, using the index and middle finger on one hand to spread your lips, the other fingers on the opposite hand barely scratching your clit. The feeling almost made you wriggle out of your seat, mouth agape across Jisung’s cheeks in a sloppy effort to maintain composure of any sort.. Everything was happening so fast. All it took was barely one scene for the two of you to let down your guards. Pretending that your friendship meant nothing. It was never friendship. Jisung would be a ghost to you if the two of you had not been friends since childhood. Maybe there were in fact other reasons that the two of you stayed this way. The moans and groans of the girls he would have over, filling up the bare distance between your room and his, always had an effect on you. It was then when you started to question what he did to those girls to make them feel so good that you were doomed. It was easy to act like a crazy party girl in front of him, knowing that he would never want to be with someone like that, and by doing that, it would push those little feelings right down to where you had the ability to forget them. Avoidance was always key.

But then Jisung would bring you food while you were up doing an assignment, buy you a bouquet of flowers when it was your birthday. Even the way he would talk to your siblings back at home was enough. Jisung was enough and maybe now, by getting these hormonal feelings out, which felt like heaven, was enough to admit that this would not be just a high rendezvous for you, but something real.

“You’re like really wet,” Jisung hummed, sliding his fingers closer and closer to your whining entrance, “always wondering how you would’ve felt like this.”

“You have?”

“Oh yeahhhh,” Jisung replied, sarcastic, as if it was super obvious, “all the time.”

“Fuck that’s so hot,” you moaned, gripping his wrist, bringing the digits specifically up to your lips for a moment, taking his DNA into a deep thorating motion The two fingers he was about to use now utterly drenched in your slick before navigating them down your body, circling your entrance before effortlessly plunging them straight into your hole. Jisung could have creamed himself then and there. Due to the sensitivity of his first time being high, he knew that if he was going to fuck you today, he truly would not last long, at all. But instead of ruining the moment that way, he decided to make it all about you. Wanting to view you squirm under him, make his best friend: you feel good. It is something he has been patiently waiting for. Jisung was a giver, and if he wanted to give you a toe curling orgasm on your couch to make you happy, he was going to do so, whatever it took.

As soon as he fingers reached the end of your whole, the two of you moaned in unison, the sound of squelch that was your arousal already an intense volume.

“D-don’t think I’ve been this wet before,” you whined, waiting for Jisung to gently pull them out.

“Really,” he questioned, genuinely baffled, “no one ever made you this wet before? Find that hard to believe.”

Your hips wriggled, desperate to feel the friction of him moving back and forth. However he was so mesmerized by the texture of your velvety walls against his digits, that he used his other hand, coated in your slick, to relieve himself, the encounter resulting in Jisung becoming much too impatient to bother taking his pants off. Your eyes shot straight to the small motion you were witnessing of him moving his hand against his cock. Oh, his length must feel so good like this. Once Jisung began to move his fingers that were inside of you, a string of curse words easily fell from your lips, unable to control anything that came from them. The sensory overload was at peak, and if you were sober, feeling overwhelmed would be an understatement.

With that being said, you were not, and neither was Jisung. The brooding tip that was his cock gently nudged your inner thigh. As he continued to grow, it had nowhere else to go. The simplest of touches felt like a million times more than when under the influence. But it had to be a culmination of things. Seeing Jisung dominate in something, take control. Fuck. Hearing those girls in his dorm had more of an impact on you than you originally thought.

Your mind drifted to those memories for a brief moment, the faint moans of the girls, but it suddenly occurred that you never knew what he sounded like. Jisung was a silent fuck? There was no way.

Your gaze drifted, Jisung immediately noticing and pausing his fingers with immediate concern.

“Y/n?”

Your head turned back faster than your eyes, deep in motion. It was silent, the TV pretty much non-existent as you grabbed him by the jaw, index finger and thumb strong on his mandible as your eyes fixated on his lips.

“How come you never moan when you fuck?”

Jisung panicked at first, a laugh following immediately after, the contagious sound making you laugh too. Your body was limp for a brief moment, falling off of your best friend's lap and next to him on the couch. Jisung ripped his glasses off his head, throwing them onto the table in front of him, allowing him to get a genuine look at how hot and flustered you truly were. Solely because of him.

“What are you talking about,” he giggled, fingertips immediately grabbing the flesh of your thigh, any part of you was good to him, as long as he could get his hands on it, right now.

“How would you know if I’m a silent fuck or not?”

“Because,” you smacked him lightly, letting him remove his hand from your skin “I can hear when you fuck other girls, pfft,” you huffed, lifting your legs in the air to discard your bottoms that were puddled around your ankles, “they’re always so fucking loud man.”

Jisung’s cheeks blushed in the tiniest form. It’s not that he was embarrassed. Okay, maybe part of him was a little embarrassed, completely caught off guard and forgetting that the walls in the dorm were paper thin. Part of him felt guilty that you had to hear that. He began to pout, but immediately dropped his lips when he realized that you were half naked. His fingertip immediately wrapped around each hip, forcing you to sit on his lap and face him. You lifted your hips, eyes signaling down to his pants that were overdue in needing to be removed. Jisung complied immediately, whisking his sweats and boxers off in one motion, causing his hard length to meet with your soaked core, his tip prodding gently at your folds. You bit down on your lip trying as hard as you could to focus on Jisung’s face, rather than focusing on how erect his cock was against you. Jisung tugged at your shirt, gawking when you lifted your arms to see no other material supporting your chest. Jisung was mesmerized once again. Another surface area that he wanted his hands on immediately.

“I can’t believe you heard me fuck other girls and never said anyti-”

“Shhh,” you hushed, pressing your folds firmer against Jisung’s cock. Your best friend reach for your hips immediately, in shock of your bold actions, “I don’t fucking care Jisung it’s fine just touch me, please.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” he huffed, palms snaking past your abdomen and gripping onto your tits hard, firm, rough. Ugh. Nothing had ever felt so good in your life. All this time you thought Jisung was a stupid little pathetic boy, with the occasional fuck here and there. God, it would almost make you laugh at how incorrect your perception was of him in the bedroom. Truth was, he knew what he was doing, because your arousal was doing nothing but increasing with each longing moment that his wood was not inside of you.

“Soft fucking tits,” Jisung mumbled, almost drooling as he slapped one of your nipples, the skin imeediadtely turning hard as he brought his lips to to the bud. His teeth appeared, claws like, as he took the same one in his mouth, not returning for breath as he nippled, licked, sucked; you name it, Jisung was doing that.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, head rolling back in pleasure, “how are you so good at everything you do?”

A chuckle escaped Jisung’s lips, the vibration felt across the entirety of your chest, “I’m not I-”

The two of you paused, freezing entirely when you heard Jisung’s phone ring. He glazed over, noticing the words “Mom” written across the top of the screen. He looked away as he turned back to you, that look of hunger dilating his pupils. The temporary freeze made Jisung long for you even more.

“Jisung,” you whispered, hands placed across his face and upper neck, “you should answer.”

“No,” he huffed, attaching his lips over your neck sporadically, “if it’s an emergency she’ll call me again. I’m busy.”

The phone was silent for maybe a few seconds, before it began to ring again. Jisung scoffed, removing his hands from you as he picked up his phone.

Your joint and lighter were in arms reach. You ignored the conversation, bringing the material to your lips and lighting it up again, your body relaxing even more as you took a deep breath in, feeling the substance sink into your skin, blowing out the remnants after. Your eyes turned to Jisung, his already on you, eyeing the joint in your hand. He leaned forward, waiting for you to put the joining between his lips. You complied, bringing the flame in unison. Jisung mumbled his words for a brief moment before blowing out the air.

“Yes mom,” he answered, “I’m fine. Y/n is fine, I just checked in on her.”

A small giggle came to your lips, followed by Jisung covering them. Removing his appendages, you decided to stand up, letting go of Jisung on his lap as you dropped to your knees. Like a predator, you crawled over, eye level with his knees. Jisung’s brows furrowed, taking him a bit of time to realize what you were about to do. He was still on the phone, talking to his mum about god knows what. That wasn’t your focus for now. It was spreading his legs wide, Jisung’s hardness evident as it spread across his groin. Your lips curled upward as you situations yourself where you needed to be, Jisung’s eyes widening as he realized what you were about to do.

“Yes I am s-sutdying hard,” Jisung shuttered, the sudden touch being your hand wrapped around the base of him startling him, “j-just finished one a-assignment today.”

A deep, lustrous chuckle escaped your mouth as you began to pump him, watching your best friend’s sensitivity, squirming at the touch. Jisung was doing everything in his power not to moan, prevent knowing how much effect you had on him, and form his mum knowing what he was doing.

“Mom can I c-call you back l-later, bit b-bust, busy right now.”

Jisung’s body jolts forward the moment he felt your tongue on the underside of him, making its way to his tip. He hung up the phone, tired of this torture as his hands found their way through your hands immediately. His sign of eagerness felt so good, the gentle tug from him begging you to go down on him completely driving you wild. The pain mixed in with pleasure immediately, traveling to your core and pulsating harder than it has ever felt in your life. Jisung was lengthy, but that was no problem. Beginning, slowly, you took him into your mouth, a guttural moan bleeding from his lips as his head rolled back with ease.

“Holy fucking shit,” he gasped, almost running of out of room to breath, “you’re so fucking good at this baby”

A slight moan fell from your lips at the use of the pet name. Jisung’s head snapped back down immediately to you, catching your gaze in an instant. Your eyes looked bigger to him, doe like. It was driving Jisung wild; he could’ve finished right then and there. Being high and having the elevated physical sensation from your magical touch was something he could live with forever, maybe become addicted to. If this is what life felt like under the influence, he now wanted this all the time.

“Mmmh,” you sighed, a large pop and breath coming from your lips as you replaced your hand, “you taste so good Sungie.”

Your free hand traveled down your body, descending to the apex between your thighs to satisfy that ache that was growing with intensity with every second passed. The attempt to hide your pleasure was amateur, biting down on your bottom lip as a stifled groan left your lips.

“Y/n, baby,” Jisung purred, leaning forward and grabbing your forearms, “come here.”

You did as you were told, helping him hoist you back onto his lap. The brush of him against you this time is 10x more powerful and intense. Nothing had ever felt like this before; you never wanted this to end. Jisung scanned you again, looking up and down one more time before seizing the hem of his shirt, ripping it over his head. You gasped, hands immediately clamping onto him as you leaned forward, reattaching your lips to his.

Above everything, Jisung’s lips felt the best. This symbolized so many times, conscious and unconscious, did you think about how they would feel. What they would taste like. How other girls thought Jisung’s lips tasted and felt like. Jisung smiled as he pulled away, the devilishly handsome smile on his face as he leaned into your ear, “sit next to me baby.”

It seemed that the only thing you could do was be obedient to Jisung. His orders were like music to your ears. In your friendship dynamic, you tended to be the more domineering one. Making decisions for Jisung, whereas he was the more nonchalant friend. Always happy to go with the flow, as long as he was with you. This time, may things were different.

Jisung sat in the same place with his legs spread. Leaning over, he grabbed you by the thigh closest to him, fingers dancing across the skin on the inside of your thigh as his lips turned upward again. All of a sudden you felt nervous. Watching your best friend ogle you was a strange feeling. Jisung immediately noticed your energy shift.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah,” your eyes widened, looking directly at him.

“You okay baby?”

“Yeah? Yeah! Sorry, let me have another puff.”

Jisung saw you grab the joint and the lighter again, bringing to your lips before he reached for your wrist, pushing the objects away, forcing your attention to be on him only.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No,” you interjected, bringing the material and lighting the tip once more, “I fucking want you. I just zoned out for a second.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, followed by his cheek, back of the ear and down to his neck, cascading hisdown to the middle of his chest. Jisung giggled at the feeling, the tickling sensation emitting fire throughout his body. He returned the favor, placing a kiss atop of your breast before he reached for his own joint, handing you the lighter, “Will you do me the honors?”

“Fuck yes I will,” you marvelled at his enthusiasm, lighting up the joint without a hesitation, watching him sit back and close his eyes, taking everything in. You did the same, wanting to embrace that feeling that resulted in you buying this in the first place.

It was as if the last puff recharged your best friend, his eyes reopening, that dark, lustful caste creeping back into them as he reached for you, pushing your leg out of the way, hand clasping your inner thigh. There was no sign of his movement stopping, fingers already pushing your folds across, almost as if they were in the way completely. A sharp gasp fell from your lips the moment his middle finger touched your clit, the sensation overwhelming immense as he began to move in circular motions. Jisung’s touch was gentle, in reality, he was barely applying any pressure. But in this moment, the pleasure you were deriving from his fingers was tenfold. Eyelids were fluttering, it felt like you could barely keep up with him. It wasn’t until you saw Jisung’s cock twitch out of the corner of your eye that you knew what you had to do.

It was time for your hand to snake around his body, but, in contrast to Jisung, you did not want to wait. There was no time to tease; you were simply too desperate. Fingertips found his weak spot fast, dexterity sloppy wrapped around your best friend once again as you matched the pace he found on you. It was slow, sensual, anything to build the pressure between your thighs, and between his.

“Y/n, baby,” he whined, a deep groan following, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now.”

A seductive chuckle escaped your lips, “Your hands are my favorite part of you right now too Sungie.”

“Fuck I love it when you call me that with your voice all fucked up and groggy.”

“Sungie baby, I always call you that,” you paused, bringing short circuiting from the finger that Jisung slipped inside of you, “what’s so d-different about it now.”

“You always turn me on Y/n,” Jisung grogged back, “always,” he smiled, pausing again, “especially right now.”

A small heat came to your cheeks, hips gently dragging across his fingers. God, was this what heaven felt like? Your hand picked up in speed, Jisung reacted immediately with a gentle whine. The noises he made to you were like an orchestra playing its grand piece. Another side of Jisung that you had not seen, but were mesmerized by. It was a whole new world. A whole new territory of risk that the two of you had decided to explore. However, all rational and logical decisions were thrown out the window a very long time ago. Jisung wrapped his free hand around your breast, clasping onto your nipple as he entered another finger into you, index and middle finger picking up their pace, adding the squelching sound of your wetness as another sound that filled your tiny dorm room. Dorm room. You forget momentarily how thin the walls were; but who gives a fuck? It’s not like Jisung was going to hear. He was the one that was making you moan over and over anyway.

“Sungie,” you whimpered, “feels so good.”

“Say my name like that again.”

“Sungie.”

“Fuck,” he growled, pushing deeper into your walls, “your pussies screaming for me.”

“It’s your pussy,” you breathed, the tremors of your release beginning to rumble, “no one has ever turned me on this much Sungie.”

Your best friend had a smirk of approval, curling the tip of his two fingers inside of you. A small shriek escaped your lips, hand flailing from his cock as your jaw dropped at once. Hips bucked up and off the couch, a sinister chuckle coming from Jisung as he watched your hips squirm for him. He was possessed by the way your body reacted to him, reacted to his touch, he did not pay two minds to the throbbing sensation between his legs. All he could see was that you were slowly losing it.

You did not care. You were waiting close and closer, deeper and deeper, hitting a spot that has never been touched in your life. Your mouth was getting bigger, hips moving with less and less rhythm. There was an impending feeling that you knew was going to happen, it was only a matter of seconds.

“Sungie I’m gonna-”

“I know baby,” Jisung cooed, eyes fixated on your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your jawline, “cum for me.”

A borderline scream left your lips when your hips plowed to the couch, an rupture of pleasure cascaded of the entirety of your body, legs shaking and howling in pain like they never had before. Your chest was breathing heavy, deep in unison with Jisung’s as he removed his fingers, your pussy aching from the lack of fullness. Jisung leaned over, pressing a kiss to your neck in several places before your lips. He waited until your eyelids stopped fluttering shut for you to see him bring those sinful digits to his mouth, and suck on them, hard, a deep groan leaving his lips at the taste.

“Fuck you taste good,” he winked, causing both of you to start giggling.

It did not take long for your eyes to travel to his still very hard cock. Your hands traveled immediately, both encompassing the majority of him before you began pumping, hard. To anyone with an outside view, this was not classy sex. It was sloppy, but the two of you were so high that it was perceived the former way. Jisung needed your touch, you needed to touch him. Jisung wasn’t far off either, and the fact that you were looking at him with vigor, with desire was bringing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Y/n slow down, I’m gonna cum too quick.”

“No such thing,” you purred, adding your tongue into the mix, flicking your tongue along the slit of his tip.. You leaned over, Jisung resting his hands across your ass as you coaxed one moan after out of him. Jisung’s head snapped back, unable to comply with the amount of pressure he was feeling. In a similar fashion to you, his hips began to buck, tip slipping into your mouth as his sounds got louder, his pleading becoming stronger.

“Y/n fuck, s-shit I’m gonna cum, Y/n I’m gonna cum.”

Jisung’s voice became whiny, the tone music to your ears as you moved your mouth away from his length, bringing your lips to the crook of his neck and collarbone, gently nipping on the soft spot on his skin as his muscles coiled underneath your body, cock getting harder under his hands as he hit his peak. Ropes and ropes of him squirted across his stomach, a deep groan, one sounding of relief bursting from his lips as he gripped your wrist, chuckling to stop you from a sensory overload.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, regaining his compures as he grabbed you by the neck, pulling you into a deep, deep kiss. The pressure on your neck was comforting, a smile turning on your lips as you pulled away.

“Wow,” Jisung gasped, “That was,”

“What took you so long?”

“Y/n, shut up,” Jisung spat, the fatigue hitting him suddenly, “woah, I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I tend to have that effect on people,” you smirked, the room erupted in laughter as Jisung laid back on the couch, pulling you into him as the two of you looked at the ceiling. Your substance affected mind was starting to wear off, causing your exhaustion tenfold. The two of you drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

“When I wake up, you're gonna get it,” Jisung mumbled, but you were already asleep.

Depending on how you felt when you woke up, that would change everything.

#han jisung #han jisung smut #han jisung fic #han jisung scenario #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids fic #han jisung x reader #stray kids x reader #jisung #jisung smut #jisung fic #jisung scenario #jisung x reader #ch4nb4ng

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jk-kiwi · 17 hours ago

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The glass queen

The glass queen (18+)

Characters - King JK x queen Y/N reader (Woman)

Genre - Royal Au, heavy angst (?), drama, suggestive/smut, fluff, THIS is fiction

Summary - In a once-thriving kingdom, filled with love and care, the queen, who ruled along with her devoted husband, fell deeply ill. Desperate to save her, the king falls into a restless journey to try and restore what once was lost. Warnings - Illness and description of illness (the reader is sick), pregnancy and kind of baby craze from some characters, alluding to cheating (?), parental manipulation, double marriage (one is forced), misunderstandings, fictional characters, heavy feelings, harsh words, mentions of wishing to disappear and never return (once I think), mentions of blood, throwing up (not detailed). Jungkook is one loyal man I tell you. Warnings for the not so holy parts (18+) - Description of male and female parts. They bathe together, aphrodisiac usage and itercourse while on it, consensual but one time Jungkook doesn’t remember, hickeys, Y/N on top once, no heavy/crazy stuff, they do it twice. I hate detailing about it so…Read at your own risk!

MINORS PLEASE STAY AWAY!

Author’s note - Not as happy with this one, but oh well. If anyone wants to detail about the 18+ parts in a comment, I will copy and paste it! Tell me if I missed anything in the warnings or if there are any errors. Enjoy!

Word count - 16.5k

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There was once a glorious kingdom, a loving queen and her devoted king ruling it with wisdom and care. Their people were thriving under their protection after the heartbreak of the late king passing away had diminished.

It’s been three years ever since prince Jungkook has tied the knot with you, making you the queen of his people and heart. Three years that were filled with love and devotion, three years that seemed to vanish in an unfortunate blink. “The queen has fallen ill.” It all began on an autumn morning, both of you were ready to celebrate your third anniversary, a huge banquet was about to be held in honor of the king and queen of this land. But that morning was not the beginning of a celebration, a new year beside your king...

All that you remember to this day is the dizziness, the nausea. You felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore, your lungs were suffocating in a burning pain. You couldn’t speak or scream or cry, you laid there frozen, statue-like, taking in the misfortune that laid upon you.

You remember a doctor coming and checking on you, you remember your husband’s worried eyes, your maiden crying, and beside the pain and fear, the only thing that stuck with you were the words “The queen has fallen ill.” That was almost two years ago, the beginning of the nightmare you had been fighting ever since.

At first nobody knew what was happening to you. The doctors, unsure of the illness you were carrying. But your people wanted answers and nobody had them. They tested and tested, they tried all types of medicine, but your state only further declined. So they gave you a nickname, the glass queen.

The nickname haunted you. Fragile. Delicate. A figure meant to be admired but could never be touched. You hated it.

It made you feel weaker. Nobody knew how much you had left, if you would be getting better or not at all. The people grew impatient and slowly started their gossip, the whispers within the palace walls. “How much could she still bear this, I would’ve ended it much sooner in her place.”, “I pity her, just imagine the aches she’s going through”, “Just think of the poor king, having to deal with such pain everyday.”. You heard them all, outside the palace being even worse. People expected you to be by their side and provide them with the duty you were given, the one of a queen. But you locked yourself in your room in shame, becoming weary of people’s eyes, showing yourself less and less, not wanting them to see how pitiful you have become. Truth to be told, you would’ve withered away much faster under their insensitive words, only if it wasn’t for Jungkook, your determination to live and fight further, hoping that one day you could return to what you once were.

He stayed by your side, day and night, devoted to you and only you. You hid away from him at times, ashamed of what has become of his queen, but he always saw the light shining deep inside of you, the light of wanting to survive, to be close to him and hold him without pain and worry once again. So he stayed by your side, blinding you from all the hate, not letting you know he was battling his own demons… “Under no circumstances!” His jaw clenched, hands turned into fists. “Jungkook! I am your mother and I know what’s good for you, it’s time you look outside the box you created! The people are unhappy!” He scoffs looking at his mother in hatred, enraging her further.

“And I said no, I’ve been ruling for the past 5 years, do they not trust me? My judgment? Their king!” His voice raised in anger and disbelief.

“She’s been like this for almost two years already, God knows how much she has left! You need an heir, if she dies, who's going to take over the throne?” the mother fights back, trying to open her child's eyes. He didn’t want to succumb to fear, the fear of losing you, fear of everything you’ve built crumbling at his feet, under his helpless gaze. Being a king was not easy, solving issues, pleasing people, arguing all day with his mom over this and that all while trying to help you overcome it all.

Jungkook had a lot on his plate, and now, a more ridiculous and outrageous request came in.

He needed an heir.

If the queen passes away he’ll be a widower. He could still rule, yes, but his blood line would not continue, making him the last standing from his family, forcing a new power to take over what decades of his generation had already built.

“It’s not much I ask of you to do. You marry her, give an heir to the throne and then it’s your decision on how to handle things further.” He had refused to entertain the idea, long ago. Not wanting to believe that his own mother would impose such ridicule. Him, the king, having a concubine by his side since his sick wife could not bear children? Outrageous! “I’m not doing such awful thing to my wife. Don’t you think she’s gone through enough? If she finds out I’m marrying a second woman she might…” Tears start to gather into his eyes in pure frustration. The thoughts of you leaving, eating him alive. How could he do something so cruel to you? “She will understand, it’s her duty to bear a child, and since her illness she can’t comply with it. She needs to understand this is for the better good of the kingdom!” Jungkook slouches in his chair in defeat, this is a battle he might never win. His mom has been pushing this idea for almost a year now. “Yujin is a nice girl, she’s the daughter of a duke! Trust me she’s well fit to be your quee…” “She will never be a queen!” He shouts, fist hitting the desk in front of him in rage. “She will never be my queen, I won’t allow it.” His mother scoffs and folds her arms looking away from her stubborn son. “I’m sending her here tomorrow to have dinner with you. I’m tired of your antics, your father would be rolling in his grave knowing this is how you rule.” She spits out, tired of pointless arguing, before storming out of his office.

Jungkook sighs, fighting back the urge to scream and cry, to just run far away from all his responsibilities. He wants to be a powerful king, someone people will look up to and follow without fear. But his own self is breaking into pieces, crumbling more and more with the heaviness thrown on his shoulders. He raises from his chair defeated, ready to go and find his own support, his only safe place. Exiting his office he takes fast steps towards the chambers, but before he can enter the hallway his body collides with someone else. His arms are quick to catch and without any further thoughts he pulls you into his embrace, his body already recognizing yours, scent way too familiar to mistake your presence for someone else's. “What are you doing here, my love?” He cuddles you close to his chest, hand gently caressing your hair, his muscles relaxing. “You should rest. Did the doctor come and you were scared?”

“No” You answer quietly, inhaling all of his sweet scent, grateful to receive his warmth . “I’ve been bored. I waited all day for you to come, but you didn’t even dare a second to pass by. Do you not love me anymore?” You ask teasingly, making him chuckle, his head shaking in denial. “How can I not? You’ve been in my head all day, couldn’t focus on any work.” He mumbles back making you smile, wrapping your weak arms around him. “Then carry me back to my room please, show me how much you’ve missed your wife.” He laughs and in a rush he picks you up, you gasp. “A little too rough for my queen?” He says looking up at you, your hands resting on his shoulders while he was holding you from above your knees. “You could try to be more gentle, I bruise easily.” You pout and he just maneuvers you in such a way that you end up being carried bridal style towards your room. Arriving, Jungkook places you gently on the bed, letting you sit on the edge. “You seem to have something on your mind” Looking at him fidgeting with his fingers. He is indeed a little restless, making you wonder why is he avoiding your gaze all of a sudden? “Don’t worry about me, just work. Has the doctor come yet?” He asks like in a rush to leave and you nod “I should let you rest then, the medicine will kick in soon.” He bows down to your level kissing your forehead, but before he can leave you gently tug on his blazer. “Why don’t you stay? It’s been long since we spent the night together.” You look up at him with expecting eyes, hoping that he can hold you close just for tonight. “You should be tired, love. I will not hold onto your sleeping time today.” He says apologetically. “But, Jungkook. You never come by anymore…I miss you...”

You knew the reason he wasn’t coming, you were getting weaker and he was afraid. It’s been long since you’ve shared a bed, let alone him daring to touch you in any other way. You craved him, even only his embrace and it would release the aching pains you were feeling. He was touching you like handling a frail piece of glass. You felt sad. But you can’t condemn him, he’s your man and you know deep down he also wants to be close like before with you, but with all the medicine you must take it’s hard to even walk sometimes, let alone engage in other strenuous activities. So he kept his distance. And it pained you, to know you can’t give him anything. To know he has to hide away from you. You felt the guilt, hurting more than the illness itself.

"Just stay tonight, let’s sleep here, together.” You plead for the last time, hoping it’s not in vain like any other nights, slightly ashamed to ask for more, to pursue harder. He tries to fight the urge, to just shove aside everything and love you like you deserve. But he can’t.

You sigh at his silence, fighting the bitter taste in your mouth, his silence being enough of a response.

“I understand…you must be tired too…I think it’s better if you also head out to sleep, I’m getting tired.” And you were. Tired of the burden you were carrying and casting above everyone else. Tired of cursing the people you loved.

You lay down between the mountain of pillows and blankets you’ve collected along the years in hopes to soothe you better and by shoving your face in one you try to mask the tears that fall down on your face.

You close your eyes hearing him sigh before caressing your arm, leaving a kiss on your shoulder and then leaving. The room empty and cold without his presence.

You grab the pillow muffling your sound into it, throwing it across your beautiful room. You look outside the window, the sky dark, the moon shining above making you remember all the past moments you shared with Jungkook, walking into the dark of the night, holding hands, being deeply in love and without a care. When will you get them again? The walks and sleepless nights spent holding each other, the promises and dreams you made together, his hands gently caressing your body, lips making their way down your neck, the feeling of burning passion flowing in the air. You wish to disappear and never return. Life will be much easier for you and for those around, getting rid of the burden you bring, you feel meaningless.

Slowly you fall asleep, the substances finally making their way into your body, calming the pains you had.

Outside the door, without your notice, Jungkook was resting. His back pressed to the door, biting his lip in regret. He should’ve held you. He should’ve told you about what’s to come, the pressure he was feeling. He should’ve not run away like he always does when responsibility arises. He’s still young and naive, tough. Brought to the throne before even turning the age of 18, still mourning his father’s death and now with a crown on his head, having to take over much harsher tasks. The only thing he had along, being you.

You were there when he needed you most…but now, when you need him most, he isn’t here.

---------------------------------

The morning came by fast for Jungkook after spending almost all night by your door. The maids began waking him up and his personal adviser didn’t even hesitate to shove down his throat the list of things he had to do for the day.

“My lord, don’t forget about the meeting with lady Yujin. She’s on her way to the palace.” The adviser reminds. “Tell her not to come.” He says without hesitation, voice latched with indifference. “But, my lord, our elder queen has said that it’s a must for you to attend.”

He didn’t want to enrage his mother, surely, but the thought of your heart breaking by meeting another woman was far worse. In his mind he was neglecting you already, but betrayal? Such thoughts would never dare cross his mind on their own.

“I will not attend then.” He manages to button up his shirt leaving his room with the stressed adviser following behind. “My lord, please, it’s just a dinner meeting, nothing serious, the queen won’t know.” Jungkook stops in his steps, fists clenching in rage seeing how even his servants push this further, not respecting the status he has. “One meal, that’s all. After that I don’t want to hear about her.” He finally complies, thinking you will not hear about this and he will just make it clear that he is not interested and end it all forever.

And so he found himself sitting in front of the duchess, Lady Yujin. She was beautiful, not to deny. Small body, always dressed in expensive dresses and jewelry. Her hair was curled up in a bun, fingernails perfectly done and a lingering, intoxicating perfume, the last point of her perfect image. Every man would fall for such high beauty, and despite her looks she was also young and vigorous, only 19 of age, 3 years younger than you two.

She was a refined lady, clearly showing that her parents were wealthy and put a lot of work into her education and manners, spoiling her with everything she desired.

“It’s a pleasure to be at the same table with you, my Grace.” Her voice was melodious, alluring even. “Thank you for making time to be here, Lady Yujin.” Jungkook felt bothered by her presence, he wished the meal would end soon. “Oh, please! Just call me Yujin, no need for formalities, my Grace.” she says, eyeing the man up and down. People referred to him as their grace all the time, but this gave him an ick, hearing it roll out of her tongue so easily, so nonchalantly.

“I’m here with a proposal, my dear father has sent me.” She picks up her tea cup, sipping slowly, every now and then locking eyes with the boy. “I’ve heard the queen has fallen ill, I felt sorry to hear such unfortunate news.” She sighs sadly, her voice holding mock concern.

“Since then I’ve heard you two have been avoiding each other. Perhaps it’s the fact that she’s weak and frail, or maybe…she can’t give an heir to the throne?”

Jungkook clenches his jaw, eyes darkening, the air around him heavy and suffocating when hearing her discuss matters like his wife’s feelings didn’t matter. “The elder queen has gotten in contact with my family, proposing a marriage between the two of us in order for the kingdom to receive its precious descendant.” She continued, her lips curving into a coy smile.

Jungkook’s gaze bore into hers, his expression hardening. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but my mother has not been in command since long ago. I’m loyal to my wife and I don’t need a mere concubine by my side. The queen is my wife, and she will remain so, heir or not.” he spits sharply.

The young girl tilts her head, a glimpse of bitterness could be catched for one second before her expression softens just enough to appear sympathetic. “Your loyalty is truly admirable, my Grace.”

Her tone was almost sweet, while her fingers played slowly with her curls, twirling them around. “But loyalty does not sustain a kingdom. Your people grow fears, they doubt your judgment, they wonder what would happen to their land after you lose the throne.” She sighs once again, trying to appear concerned for others. “Sooner or later, your Majesty…” she said, leaning closer, her voice dropping just above a whisper “You will have to choose. And faced with the options of loving her or the survival of your empire, what will your judgment decide upon?” Her words were harsh, showing parts of her true self. Jungkook's breath hitched at her boldness. His mind recognizing the guilt trap she was setting, but his heart was aching.

He is the king, his main priority is to protect his people before all. He was already faced with splitting between love and responsibility.

“Perhaps we can discuss mathers in further meetings.” she said, her voice smooth, uninterested in toying with him anymore. “I know Your Grace will make the best decision regarding the safety of people.” She offered a graceful smile, while rising from the chair.

“Let’s meet again tomorrow. It’s my first time here, I would love to be shown around.” “Of course.” He stood up as well, the tension beneath him almost breaking his calm exterior. “Unfortunately I have a long list of duties that call my name. I will have one of the servants arrange a proper tour for you, Lady Yujin.” His tone was cold, a quiet reminder that despite her boldness, he was still the one in control.

Yujin’s lips parted wanting to say something else, to try and stop him and achieve what she wanted like she was always thought to do, but both were stopped when the doors of the dining room were opened, your body peaking through, your maiden following behind. “Your Majesty,” you were surprised, your voice steady and curious at the sight of your husband being with an unknown lady. Your eyes darted between the two of them, taking in the room's tense atmosphere.

“I apologize for the interruption, I wanted to get my dinner outside my room today. I didn’t know we were having guests over.” You bow down lightly, making Jungkook soften at the sight. His rigid posture calming down, legs taking him closer to you in a habit. “Y/N.” he said, his voice gentler now. “You should be resting, my love.” You smile, fingers caressing the beautiful embroidery on his blazer, admiring how well built he is in comparison to you.

“I’ve rested long enough. I can’t spend the rest of my life locked up in that room. I’ve been feeling better since this new medicine.”

“I see,” he murmured, his lips falling into a faint smile. “Don’t push yourself too hard, you still have a long time to recover.” Your tender moment, a sight for those around, was now being interrupted by the woman sitting across the room, envy in her eyes.

“Such a heartwarming moment to witness.” She says clasping her hands together. “Though I must admit, I hadn’t expected to see Your Grace today.” she added, directing her words toward you. “I figured since you’ve been in such a delicate position, you would like to rest, not entangle yourself with administrative problems.” Your gaze met hers, you felt calm despite the stab hidden beneath her words. “I appreciate your concern,” you replied smoothly, detaching yourself from Jungkook. “But I know my limits better than anyone.” you say while eyeing her. Jungkook’s hand grasps yours gently, making you look up at him giving a reassuring smile in response to his concern. Yujin’s smile falters ever so slightly seeing you stand with such confidence, but she quickly recovers, lightly chuckling.

“I hope I didn’t upset Your Grace, these were not my intentions. I am a devoted woman when it comes to the good of the people.” She starts again, the same story of how good she wants to appear in front of you, wishing just a tiny part of her acts could tone you down.

“Y/N’s dedication has never been in question either.” Jungkook interrupts firmly, his voice steady. “She is not only my queen but the heart of this kingdom, you should admire her for the efforts she’s putting in.”

Yujin froze in place, taken aback by the sudden confession. “Of course,” she murmured, a flicker of frustration obvious in her gaze.

“Your Majesty is fortunate to have such a queen by his side.” She mumbles before bowing deeply to the both of you and making her way towards the exit, but not before leaving her last words to linger around. “I’d love for his Majesty to join my tour tomorrow, if possible. We have important matters to discuss” she said, pausing, her gaze briefly meeting Jungkook’s before she turned and disappeared through the doorway. The room was silent for a moment. You turned to Jungkook eyeing him, his expression unreadable. “Jungkook, who was this lady?” You cut down formalities when met only with him.

For a moment he didn’t answer, his mind and heart running wild, weighing whether to share more of what’s happening with you or not, scared of your reaction towards what’s happening. “Don’t worry.” he said carefully, avoiding your glance. “She’s just an acquaintance…” You could read him, you knew him for a long time, he was hiding stuff from you.

You exhale abruptly, turning your body away from the man. “Is this your way of protecting me? I could read through your lies every day, Jungkook! I know you better than anyone else.” You huff in annoyance, signaling your maiden. “I have no appetite anymore.” Your frustration was building up, you were tired of pretending everything was fine around you two. You could hear him follow behind you, trying to stop you in your steps. You didn’t look back, you didn’t stop…you couldn’t. Is distance and lies what has become of your relationship? Arriving at your door you send your maiden away, turning to finally seek the man. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the way he was trying to avoid your glance in shame for being caught. “Is this what I am to you?” You say, your heart racing in your chest. “I can’t keep pretending everything is fine when you keep lying to me, hiding away stuff, avoiding me.” Jungkook opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He swallowed hard, his doe eyes finally meeting your sad ones. “I am no longer the person you turn to, Jungkook. I can see this, I can feel this.” you pause for a second, trying so hard to gather the words that were scattering around your head.

“You don’t come anymore, you don’t see me anymore, you don’t want to touch me anymore. Is this the reason she’s here? Are you trying to replace me?” You ask upset, tears burning in your eyes. “You know this is not true! You are everything to me.” he says, his voice cracking, defending his actions. “Everything I’m doing is for the kingdom, for us...” He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out for yours, but you pull away. “Is it?” You whispered, a single tear running down your cheek. For a moment, neither of you move, his silence was cutting you deep. Finally, he finally breaks, voice quieter now, almost pleading. "Please love…I don't want to hurt you.” his hand finds his way up, the back of his fingers barely caressing your face. “But you do, everyday! Do you even see me as your woman anymore?” your voice was trembling, a mix of frustration and pain in it.

"Y/N, you are still everything to me, you are my woman, my queen.” he was frustrated too, wanting to keep you safe and show you love, but being afraid of losing you. He wanted you to understand him too, how hard it is for him to stay away. “You used to want me, you used to look at me like I was your world. Now I don’t know who I am to you anymore!" You break down in rage and upset.

Jungkook’s chest tightened seeing how he only causes more pain then relief to your aching pains. His arms wrap around you so tight, finally giving in, the craves he has for you spilling. "I still want you. I always will" he says, his feelings raw. You look up at him, your teary eyes and pouty lips making him melt. “Then love me, I won’t break.” and that’s all it takes.

He picks you from the ground, one hand opening then closing the door behind you. His lips find yours after so many days of being untouched, honey-like taste lingering around. You cry. The feelings of being close with your husband breaking every wall you build around yourself all these years. He lays you down between the mountain of pillows and blankets, his lips never breaking from yours. “I am afraid.” He says when you pull away for a fresh breath of air. “I don’t want to lose you, but pushing you away kills me everyday.” He whispers letting his own fears alive, tears falling onto your neck. You raise your hand to reassure him, gently combing through his hair, shooting away his own hurt. “Then don’t push me away anymore. I need you by my side and you do too.” You let him sob on your chest, finally grasping how hard everything has been for him. “I want to stay by your side, Jungkook. I wish to be the queen I was before. So please…stop throwing me into the shadows.” His arms tighten around you. “I’m sorry.” he chokes out, his voice muffled against you “I want to be better at this, but I feel like I have no one. Everyone wants something from me and I feel…so alone…” He finally confesses, showing all of his emotions.

“I’ll do better, Y/N. I promise.” he looks up and you cup his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. “I am not much of a support, but don’t hide away from me. I am not as weak as people make me to be.”

His brows furrow, guilt flickering across his face knowing he lets you think you’re weak, you being the strongest person he’s met. “You’re not weak.” he whispers. “You never were.”, “You will never be.” He kisses you gently once again, his salty lips burning against yours before pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. “Let’s take it easy from now. I’ll trust you and you trust me. No more running away” his breath feels warm against your face. “I’ll sleep with you today, it’s been long since we spent time together.” He takes off his clothes, remaining only in his white shirt and pants and rests down next to you, arms wrapping around your figure from behind.

You could feel it for the first time since forever, the feeling of reassurance, the walls you’ve built along the years beginning to rebuild. You lean deeper into his touch without the care for the future, feeling in the moment like you could conquer the world together.

------------------------------

The next day, the palace was too full of life. The maids and servants were going crazy trying to find the king. A problem has arised, a big one. The doors of your bedroom flew open with a loud bang, startling the both of you, making Jungkook almost fall from the bed. Your maiden, Seol gasping in shock and embarrassment seeing the both of you entangled between the sheets.

“Y-your Grace! Oh my, I apologize for intruding in such a way. I-I didn’t know you and my Lady.” Her head quickly lowered in shame of witnessing such a scene. You hid under your blanket trying to suppress your laughter. Jungkook ran a hand through his messy hair, letting out a sigh, he was a little irritated by the disturbance. “Seol. What’s the meaning of all this?”

The girl gulped, bowing deeply “Forgive me, Your Grace! The elder queen is here, she’s demanding to talk to you.” Your heart sank at the mention of the elder queen, she was never fond of you and you knew from way before how harsh she is with Jungkook, trying to keep him under her strong control. You glanced at Jungkook, who was already frowning. “What is it now?” Jungkook muttered under his breath before getting out of bed, making Seol shriek and turn away blushing in embarrassment. “I will go and see what this is about.” He puts on his blazer and shoes and exits the room leaving you and your flustered maiden behind. You sit up and look at the girl, concern running through your veins. “Seol, what is this about? Why is Jungkook’s mother here again?” You heard from around the palace a thing or two, having a close bond with your maiden has always proven efficient in letting you be in touch with what was happening around.

Seol hesitates, wringing her hands nervously. “My lady, I…I don’t think I should…” You huff in annoyance with her trying to keep the secret. “You should, we don’t keep secrets around here. Why is she here?” You ask for answers in a more demanding tone. She lowers her voice, glancing toward the door as if afraid someone might overhear, before finally breaking the news to you. “The elder queen… she’s growing impatient. She’s been making arrangements, calling for meetings with the king behind closed doors.”

“Arrangements? For what?” you press on, wanting a proper answer. “From what I know it’s exclusive between her, the king and his adviser. I tried to get more info, but I’ll be beheaded if they find me sneaking around!” “Why didn’t Jungkook tell me… Is this all you know?” you ask, eagerly expecting. Seol bites her lip before coming even closer to you. “That lady, she’s also here.” She whispers, making your heart skip a beat.

“The girl from yesterday? The one that had dinner with my husband?” You ask stunned and Seol nods, her expression filled with unease. “Yes, my lady. She’s in the garden with the elder queen now. They are waiting for the king to be there, I feel like something is going to happen.” You sigh and raise from the bed. “This only sounds like trouble. Prepare my dress, I’m going to see what’s happening there.” “My lady, I think you should not!” Seol tries to stop, but you turn and look at her with angry eyes. She can only comply under your authority, you are the queen and she can’t tell you want to do. With shame she bows her head and starts to help you dress.

“Don’t push yourself too hard, my lady...” she says worried before following you to the garden.

…

Slowly you see it. The garden doors come into view making you take a deep breath in nervousness. You could hear their voices and you could definitely see a stressed Jungkook through the glass window.

“I told you to cut it down, this is not happening! Why can’t you understand!” He’s trying to keep his composure, he was angry for some reason unknown to you.

“Bring that damned girl here! It’s not your decision to make, she has to give her word! What king are you, ever since two years ago this place has been running wild!”

Beside him sits the elder queen, her presence commanding and cold, and next to her the girl you saw before, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

You open the doors making them stop, all eyes being on you. “Forgive my intrusion.” you say, your voice calm but firm. “But I believe I should also be present to whatever is happening here.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise and fear seeing you. The elder queen scoffs, leaning back in her seat when she sees you enter. “Do you realize how long the kingdom has waited for you?” Her eyes were piercing, punching holes through your body.

“It’s been long since we’ve seen each other, Y/N. I think it’s time we discuss a little about the future of this land.” You met her icy gaze, the way she spoke without a care. “You’re right, mother.” you replied, taking a deep breath. “It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken, why don’t we catch up?”

The elder queen’s eyes narrow. “You know what this is about?” You look a little confused, but before anything could be said Jungkook moves to your side abruptly, not wanting you there any further.

“This discussion is over.” He says, glaring at his mother, trying to assess dominance in front of the woman who brought him to this earth. “You think this discussion is over?” she asks unamused, rising from her seat. “This has to be discussed, Jungkook. We’ve waited long enough.” Jungkook clenches his jaw trying to pull you away from all the madness.

“Are you with child?” She asks carelessly, stunning you at her sudden boldness. “Excuse me?” You could feel your chest tighten at her words, eyes widening in disbelief. “Are you with child?” The elder queen repeats, her tone impatient. You remain frozen, mind scrambling for a response.

“How could I be?” you respond, voice trembling slightly. "The kingdom needs an heir. You and Jungkook have been married long enough, where is the future descendant of this kingdom?” she adds nonchalantly.

Jungkook steps forward trying to shield you away from his mother’s harsh words. “It is not for you to decide when we should bear children, mother.” he says, making the queen chuckle. “She’s sick. How could she even bear children?” her words venomous, filled with disgust.

You felt the world spinning around you. What was all of this about? The future of the kingdom, an heir? Your heart starts to quicken as the words sink in. “Y/N, you’ve done enough till now, I respect the work you’ve done for the good of the land. But we need someone to rule further.” His mother says, coming closer to you, her hand trying to grasp yours only to be stopped by Jungkook.

“The people are growing restless. If you cannot fulfill your duty as the queen, then we must take other measures, my dear.” she says, ignoring her son’s desperate actions in trying to stop her from reaching further to you.

You wanted to argue with her, to defend yourself, but all your words were stuck in your throat. “Jungkook is still young, he can still provide children. All that I ask of you is to accept a small change in your life.”

She pulls you closer holding both of your hands in her. “Lady Yujin here is a nice girl. She is young and able to bear the child everybody wishes upon.” Your eyes widen, finally catching on her sick plan. You pulled your hands back slowly, taking a step back. “No.” you respond, shaking your head, body trembling with unknown emotions, trying to take in what was suddenly coming your way in rapid motion.

“All that I ask is for you to agree on their marriage. She will bear an heir for the throne and then it’s your and Jungkook’s choice on what’s going to happen further, I won’t bother anymore.” She was calm in her words, a heartless woman hiding behind her facade. Your eyes begin to fill with tears. “No” you say once again shaking your head in denial. You turn your head to look at your husband, wondering about the emotions he holds in his eyes. “Jungkook…is this what you want?” You ask, defeated. Hoping for him to not be on the other side. He comes closer to you holding your arms, looking deeply into your eyes in desperation. “No, of course not!” Raw guilt was taking over him, he couldn’t find the words to reassure you, to explain that this wasn’t the choice he wanted to take.

You glanced at her, the woman who was meant to replace you, seeing her smile in victory made your stomach twist and turn. “I’m only here to help, Your Majesty. I’m sure we can come to an agreement that benefits everyone.” she says swiftly, eyes glinting with satisfaction. You could barely look at Jungkook now, the man you thought was your everything, the man you trusted above all. “You’re all so quick to tear me apart.” You say ripping yourself from his embrace.

“But it's your role as the king…” you say unsure, mixed feelings were creeping inside, his mother’s manipulation getting to you.

You bite your lip thinking about the situation. You know the harsh words of your people, the whispers, the stares. Your situation is uncertain and just for a split second your judgment is clouded.

The persuasion of Jungkook’s mother, the suffocating stares of Yujin, Jungkook’s guilty eyes. You caved in, giving up your principles for the better of the kingdom, like any other queen would. You try to remain calm and think, but maybe you were not as strong as you thought. In a blink you cough, gasping for air. Jungkook rushes to your side before you manage to collide with the hard concrete, his arms wrapping around your frail frame. “Call the doctor!” he shouted, his voice frantic.

"My love…" his voice trembling as he gently held you close to his beating heart. You could hear his voice, see the way he started to scream at his mom for making you go through this, his tears falling on your face, staining your cheeks.

Your ears were ringing louder and louder and looking at his worried face, your vision starting to blur until you could not hear or feel anything anymore.

A deep slumber engulfing you.

-----------------------------------

It’s been 2 months since the incident has occurred. Ever since you’ve been on bed rest. The medicine you were taking was experimental since there was no known cure for what you had, it was to assume that side effects would appear sooner or later and after the shock you suffered, you decided to stay enclosed.

You received the news in your bed, in the end your husband succumbed to his mothers urgings, now married out of will to a second woman, the one who’s seen to bring peace and stability to the kingdom. A new hope.

Yujin quickly became loved by the people, showing up along with your husband to all the events you should’ve attended, stepping up on the duties you should care for.

She made the people feel safe again, making them forget the real queen they have, turning their back to you, wishing Yujin would take your spot forever. However, these were only what the outside could see, inside the palace was a nightmare. She was a vile woman, a two faced snake. After she got the taste of power she started showing her rotten self.

Nobody dared to speak in front of her, let alone oppose to any of her sayings. But with all the power she holds right now, she’s missing something she dearly desires, the key to your husband’s heart. Jungkook refused.

He refused anything that has to do with her, to eat with her, hear her, see her, and clearly he refused to consummate his “marriage” making her rot in envy every time he came to spend time in your chamber.

He stayed by your side now, day by day, night by night. Lulling you to sleep when the pain was too much to bear, singing to you through the day if you felt upset or too sick. He showed you that no matter how many ups and downs he has, you’re still his number one priority. The person he deeply adored. You felt at peace now, Yujin’s arrival did not bring as much chaos as you thought, it only made your and Jungkook’s relationship grow stronger, blooming after years of being caged. She wanted him so much it made him run far away from her, deeper and deeper into your arms. It was evening right now, you were sitting in your bed like usual, feeling much better these days. Seol was sitting behind you, gently combing your hair, preparing you for your bath. “You look so pretty, my queen.” she murmurs.

“Thank you, Seol,” you replied, gazing at your reflection in the window. “You’ve been glowing recently, I could see you’re getting better.” she chuckles softly, admiring you. “The medicine has been working so far, the doctor said it’s a promising solution.” Seol hums unconvinced with your excuses. “Are you sure that’s the reason, my lady? Your Grace has been visiting a lot lately, hasn’t he?” she says, her tone a little teasing.

“He really has, hasn’t he? I was afraid she would steal him away, but it seems he carries no interest.” You felt a small sense of gratitude towards the two of them, the ones who stood beside you no matter what.

“I’ve heard Lady Yujin created a monstrous scandal just the other day. The king still not bedded with her, right?” you scoff at her boldness, since when did she become like this? “A little bold of you to ask your queen such things.” you say crossing your arms, trying to appear upset just to mess with her a little.

She gasps and stops her actions, coming to her senses about what came out of her mouth. “I-I’m so sorry! I should’ve never stepped this far! It’s not my business on what's happening in the king’s life, I’m so sorry!” She bows down, ashamed, making you burst into laughter, achieving with glory your goals. “I was just joking, I consider you my best friend Seol! Don’t be so rough around me, we already speak of all.” You tease back. “And to answer your question. No, he hasn’t. I think he never will.” You smile proudly, showing off your loyal husband before the reality starts to kick in again.

“But this doesn’t mean he’s doing it with me either. It’s been more than a year since we’ve been intimate with each other.” you sigh sadly, resting your head on your palm.

Seol looks up at you, her eyes soft with concern. “My lady, don’t let the distance get to you. You’ve both been through so much already, he must be afraid." she reasures you kindly. “Afraid of what exactly?” You both stop in your tracks, blush creeping up when Jungkook enters the room, confusion obvious on his face.

“Jungkook...” you start trying to collect your words but failing. Seol is quick to excuse herself and leave the room, but you have nowhere to go so you face the man.

“I’m sorry for interrupting you two. But, Y/N...what is this about me being afraid of?” he comes closer to you, wondering what were you scheming behind his back. ��We were having a one on one girl talk, clearly not your business.” You pout crossing your arms. He smiles briefly. “Hmm, I’ll let it slide this time, only because it was a girl talk.” He pats your head coming closer to leave a peck on your lips. “I see Seol prepared you for a bath, should I help you with it since she’s not here anymore?” he questions, making the air around you grow thick. Your heart skips a beat, he hasn’t seen you naked in a while, why now all of a sudden?

“You don’t have to do that, I can manage myself!” You rush to say, feeling shy in front of him all. “What if I want to?” He teases, eyes shining with love when looking at you. And you shyly comply thinking it might be for the best to have him around, fastly getting your necessities and heading for the bath with your husband behind you.

Once you enter you slowly let the night gown fall to the floor, back facing the man. You take off your undergarments as well, a blush creeping on your cheek knowing he’s watching you undress, wondering what he thinks of you right now, seeing you so exposed in front of him.

“I’m shy.” you whisper. “Why? I’ve seen you before.” He’s quick to add without shame, a shiver coming up your spine at his seductive tone.

He comes from behind holding your hand, helping you hop into the bath, warm water engulfing your body. You look away for a second, hiding your breast with your hands, but quickly turning around when you hear the rustling of clothes echoing through the enclosed space.

He’s getting undressed. Jungkook watches you carefully, seeing your eyes preying on his body. “Like what you see?” He asks, amused. You lock eyes with him for a second before turning back around, hiding your red face from him.

“You’re a pervert.” He could hear you mumble. “You’re the one acting worse than on our first night together.” he responds, making you huff. “What’s gotten into you, it’s been long since we were this close…”

He tilts his head a little hurt by your words. “I know it’s been long, but do you not want me to be here?” you feel the guilt creep in, you should be grateful. He's trying to be close to you again and instead of letting him in your heart again you say rude words making him question his decisions. “I didn’t mean it like that.” you quickly clarify. “It’s just… it’s been so long since we were close like this. I wasn’t expecting you to be so… forward with it.” you finally admit. You look at him, his eyes are softly looking back at you. He doesn’t say much, only signaling you to make some space for his body to fit behind. You sit in silence, your body tense, hugging your knees close to your chest. Jungkook is spread behind you, his arms on each side of the tub, eyes closed. “Relax a little, will you? I won’t eat you.” you don’t trust his words, he’s scheming something. One of his arms comes closer to you, resting at the base of your neck, pulling you to lay your back on his chest. “I should’ve done this sooner. I missed being close to you.” He lets out a satisfied sigh, hands wrapping around your front, resting on your waist.

Jungkook gently nuzzles his face into the back of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “I want you.” He says, making goosebumps erupt on the surface of your skin.

“Do you think we can?” He reluctantly asks, a sniff of persuasion hiding behind. You were melting into his touch, his hand trailing down slowly, caressing your closed thighs. “Can you? Hmm, love?” Your breath starts to hitch, the water feeling colder than your body temperature. You slowly open your legs, letting his hand touch your privates, opening a way for him. His fingers gently caress through your folds while his lips start to leave kisses on the back of your neck.

You gulp when his thumb comes in contact with your little bundle of nerves, a faint whimper leaving your lips. His other hand starts to cup one of your breasts, playing gently with it.

It's easy to say you were in a bliss, nothing you’ve felt before was making you feel as good as what the man you love was doing right now. You didn’t want to stop, falling deeper into the haze. But just when everything starts to feel much sweeter, you hear a knock on your door, freezing you in place, making Jungkook’s finger stop right at your entrance, leaving you unsatisfied.

You whine loudly, hands covering your face in desperation. From the other side of the door you hear Seol’s voice asking for you, making you startle in fear. “Seol, stay outside!” you shout horrified that she might enter the room.

“Are you okay, my Lady? Why did you bathe alone, what if something would’ve happened?” She's always the one to accompany you when you bathe, just to make sure you won’t have any accidents. But now, Jungkook was here, it would be improper for her to walk on you two, especially during such lewd actions.

“Don’t worry, Seol, I’m with her.” Jungkook responds, annoyed himself, at the fact that he had to stop after managing so much persuasion.

Seol only rushes to get her words out once she finds out you two were bathing together, you could imagine her face being so red by the embarrassment.

“I w-will leave her in your care, your Majesty! I didn’t know, I’m so sorry! Oh heavens, I always come in at the wrong time!” her last phrase was probably for herself.

“Seol, before you leave. I have a favor to ask. Tell the guards around to not come close to her royalty’s chamber tonight. Don’t disturb us until I come out and say so, understood?” You blush at his words, wondering what was going on in his mind. Seol on the other hand is even more flustered, catching what the king is about to do on first hearing. She excuses herself and leaves. Between you two is silence. You looked at him from over your shoulder, he was staring at you, half lidded, licking his lips when your eyes met. “I think we should get out right now.” He rises from the water, stepping outside of the tub, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist in hurry. You look confused at him, you didn’t even wash properly. “But, we haven’t even washed…” Jungkook lends you his hand and you take it. He wraps another towel around you, showing you the way back to your room. “We will need to bathe later on anyway.” He says before gently laying you down on your bed. He gets rid of the towel, letting it pool at his feet, and then you see it. Standing proud and heavy, in all of its glory in front of you. Now you understand.

He wants you in that way.

You blush, but hands work fast like a reflex, dragging the towel off of you, letting you naked in front of him as well. He comes closer, kneeling on your bed, above you. You raise your hands to touch his chest, fingers trailing down, but stopping right above his hardened member. “Don’t be a tease now.” he grunts. You smile, letting your hands gently grasp him, stroking him up and down, giving him what he wants. Jungkook looks at you from above and whimpers, you look so beautiful under him, stroking his cock up and down like the goddess you are, working him up like never before. “How should I serve you next, my king? Do you want my mouth?” You ask seductively. He smiles, dirty thoughts of you doing what he wants flooding his mind. He has to be tame though, your state is still not stable, he promised to take it easy. “It’s fine, how about I work you up a little instead? We want this to last without getting you too tired.” You let go of him, happiness feeling your veins knowing you have such a caring man beside you.

He leans down to land a kiss between your breasts, his hands finding their way back to where they were earlier. One of his fingers entering you eagerly, breaking a gasp and a loud moan from such unexpected intruding.

He comes back up, pushing a second one in, followed by a third. You were a moaning mess, trying to keep composure in front of him, but when his lips latch on your sweet spot you lose it, all the strings breaking in your body making you come undone under his touch.

“That was fast my love, was I too eager for you?” He is breathless as well, his cheeks and chest flushed with a red color. “It’s been long, I’m not used to the feeling anymore.” you barely manage to rip out.

He chuckles, taking his fingers out. “That’s funny, you took three of my fingers like they were nothing.” You whine at his teasing, body heating up quickly. He leans back, still on his knees looking at you from above.

“Look at all the mess you made.” you can’t manage to respond anymore since his hands grab your legs, spreading them nice for him to see. “I guess we should make even more now that we’re at it, don’t you think?” “Yeah, I would love that.” You say, biting your lower lip seductively, enticing him even more. “You’re the real definition of a pillow princess.” He looks at your body, beautifully spread beneath him, hair messy and all over the pillows in your bed, cheeks flustered and shiny arousal pooling between your legs. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.” He says grabbing his member, aligning it to your entrance. “Don’t we need protection?” You suddenly ask, not wanting to break the mood, but also trying to be careful about your actions. He hums a little, slapping the head of his thick cock on your wetness before nudging your entrance with it. “Let’s not tonight.” He says before pushing in slowly, breaking a loud moan from you before bottoming out in one go. “Jungkook!” You scream, not in pain, but in so much pleasure you could already come again. Feeling him inside you, so raw, so real, clouding your mind breaking any rational thought you have left. Between you was a desire you never felt, a passion that took years to build up only to spill all over in this moment. His touch felt nauseating, his lips burned your skin with pure emotions, the stretching of his cock pushing through your walls just the right way.

You were on cloud nine, if not even further, lost somewhere in the universe, never wanting to return from such heights this man continued to rip out of you. You were loud, so loud you thought for a second the whole empire could hear you, could hear the way he claimed his only love, his only wife, his only queen.

Jungkook was lost too, his mind filled with the thought of you, the erotic images of your actions imprinting deep within his conscience, craving more of you.

He also wanted to let everyone know, to know he was the only one he could make you feel this way and you were the only one who he would go unbelievable lengths to satisfy.

He didn’t want to be afraid anymore, you would have him by his side for the rest of your life long or short, and after that he would not be this close with anyone ever again. You were close once again, this time he was too. You can’t even remember how many times you were at breaking point tonight, coming undone under him and his intoxicating touch.

“Jungkook, I’m so close, don’t stop.” you pant trying to regain your breath. The boy does not stop, pleasing you, keeping his peace, feeling his climax coming just as close.

In bliss you both moan loudly, coming together. His breath rages, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest. He kisses you once again, making sure you’re safe and alright in his arms.

And then, when you both regain a bit of composure you go again, over and over, loving each other all night long until both of you can’t take it anymore. Just him making sure you feel all the love you’ve been missing for the past two years.

…

On the other side of the castle, news flow rapidly, arriving in the end at the ears of the other “queen”.

“Does he think I’m a fool?!” she hisses, her voice harsh. Her maiden bows in respect for her. “Where have you heard such news anyways?” she asks, looking at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “My lady, the queen’s maiden has come out rushing and telling everybody not to come close to her chamber.” “She told everyone to stay away from her chamber?” she questions, her voice low and dangerous. Her maiden nodes hesitantly. “Yes, my lady. They say His Majesty is inside with her... and has been for hours now.”

Yujin’s anger was boiling over. It’s been two months since their wedding officiated, and ever since he had refused her presence entirely. She felt insulted, the thought of the king being intimate with the other woman and not with her was driving her crazy.

“Of course, he’s with her.” she spat. “I was promised a place here to bear an heir, yet he’s still clinging to that pathetic excuse of a woman!” Her maiden kept her gaze down, her hands trembling slightly as she fondled with the hem of her dress.

“How long would he keep going on with this? He finally sees her now?” “My lady.” the maiden whispers with a quivering voice. “Perhaps, if you showed patience, His Majesty might…” Yujin cut her off. “Patience? Does he think I’ll simply stand by and watch while he engages with her?” she was enraged by the thought. “Or perhaps the king is only showing pity.” The maiden tries to reassure only to be met with more explosive feelings.

“Do you think pity is what drives a man to spend hours behind locked doors? Forgetting who he should sleep with in order to get that damned heir? ” She scoffed bitterly, rising from her chair. The girl lowers her head further, wishing she could disappear. “I-I only meant that His Majesty might be torn, my lady. The queen has been with him for so long and he’s been neglecting her.”

“She’s weak!” Yujin snapped. “Nothing but a disgusting living corpse! How could he engage with her?!” she says while placing through her room. “Perhaps...it is not about what she gives him, but what she means to him.” the maiden suggests.

Yujin freezes mid-step, her eyes narrowing as she turns to face the girl, coming dangerously close to her. She was blinded by the goals she has to achieve, madness driving into her.

“Are you suggesting that she is somehow…irreplaceable?”

“N-no, my lady!” The girl stammered. “I only think that since they’ve been together for long, their bond might be hard to break.”

“Silence!” The woman shouts out, sharp and commanding, making the poor girl shiver. “He must come to his senses. This kingdom needs me, only me!” she turns around looking at her reflection through the mirror. “I’ve had enough of this waiting. If His Majesty won’t act, then I will.” Yujin says, lips curled into a sinister smile.

“What will you do, my lady?” the maiden asks cautiously. “I’ll just remind Jungkook that this kingdom’s future depends on me, not on a woman who can’t even stand on her own two feet let alone bear his children.”

“Mark my words,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Before long, I’ll be the only queen this kingdom knows.”

---------------------------------

Morning came by fast, the rays of sun burning on your cheek. You whine trying to move only to find yourself trapped under a muscular body. Your eyes flutter open to find Jungkook sprawled on top of you, sleeping soundly.

You brush your hand through his hair, taking in the sight of him being so calm. It felt surreal, as if the weight of the world outside this room didn’t exist, the only place being in the warmth of his arms. “Good morning,” you murmured, seeing him stir in his sleep. “Morning, love,” he whispered, his voice deep and husky. You tried to wiggle out from under him, but he only held you tighter. “Where do you think you’re going?” he teased, nuzzling into your neck. “Let’s just stay a little longer like this.” his voice still laced with sleep. The room quiets down, you close your eyes, enjoying Jungkook's presence just a little more. “Last night...” he began, his tone teasing. “It was the best sleep I’ve had in years.” His smile was cocky. “And not just because of the other things we did.” You have blush creeping up your neck as you avoided his gaze.

“It’s because for the first time, I felt like I had you back. Like nothing else around mattered.” he said looking at you with such sincerity in his eyes.

“Well.” you started, “Maybe we’ll have more nights like this.” you say shyly, still avoiding his gaze. He grins as he pulls your naked bodies closer together. “Careful what you promise, my queen,” he teased. “I might hold you to it.” Both of you smile as you melt away into one another. You stayed in his arms all morning, until he was ready to get back to his duties.

…

Jungkook made his way down the halls of the palace after working hard all day. He had in mind one thing, to get some comfortable clothes and come around to see what his sweet wife was doing.

But as he approached his chambers, he noticed the door was slightly open. Without thinking much, he pushes through the door, expecting his adviser or some maid to be in it. To his surprise, on his bed was seated Yujin. Jungkook froze for a moment wondering who allowed her to enter his room. “What are you doing here?” His tone was sharp while talking to her, devoid of any emotion.

“I came to talk,” she said simply, her eyes burning holes in the man. “You should leave, Yujin. I have nothing to say to you.” His words were cold. The girl rises from his bed, coming closer to him, her eyes locking with his.

“You’ve refused me for months, my Grace. Is this your way of bringing good to the people?” she continued, her voice tainted with frustration. By this time his patience was running low as well, tired of having to deal with her.

“What do you expect exactly?” Jungkook asks, folding his arms. “One night. Give yourself to me for one night and that’s all.” she whispers seductively, hands caressing his arms.

“I thought I made myself clear already. I want nothing to do with you.” he pushes her aside, resuming his task, his body craving something else, someone else.

“You’re lying to yourself.” she murmured, grabbing his sleeve. “You can pretend all you want, but I know what you need. And right now, it’s not her. I could give you something she can’t, a bliss you never felt.” She persuades, making the man clench his jaw in annoyance.

"Leave." he commanded, his voice controlled, cold as ice. “Have you really bedded with her?” she asks all of a sudden, not wanting to believe the rumors that were going around. “You don’t get to question me about what I do.” he hisses back. “I didn’t want to believe it at first, but I’ve heard you spent the whole night in her chamber.” Her words were bitter, she didn’t want to accept it. “Yujin!”

Jungkook shouts, startling her. “You do not get to question what I do, especially with my wife!” “I am also your wife! Why are you playing only on one side, Jungkook!” He raises his hand, making her flinch. He felt pity bubble in the bottom of his stomach at that moment, he took a deep breath tone lowering even deeper if possible.

“I will tell you this, once. Only Y/N can call me Jungkook. You never…never, dare to use my name again!.” His hand combs through his hair in frustration. “Second, I do not want to see you around again, I told you I have no interest in being involved with you. The only woman that I want is Y/N, she is your queen.”

Yujin stood frozen, her fists clenched at her sides as Jungkook’s words pierced through her like daggers, a mixture of disbelief and anger blooming into her, but she couldn’t fight back. She pushed his limits way too far already, even though the two were married she could still be punished for coming against the king.

She bit down her bottom lip bowing to him then leaving his chamber, tears spilling in anger. Her mind was already thinking of what steps she needs to take next in order for him to fall in her trap and ensure her duty is accomplished.

She entered her room, throwing her stuff on the floor in rage, the commotion making her maiden, Byeol, come to see what’s going on. Her eyes widened in concern seeing the state of her lady.

Yujin took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "He’s chosen her." she hissed through clenched teeth, "I will make him regret this. I will show him I’m the better one to stay by his side!” her breath was ragged, trying desperately to keep composure. Yujin faces Byeol, her eyes darkening, an evil plan scheming in her mind. “Bring me the royal doctor.” she says, her voice cold and determined, making the maiden shiver in fear. “I have a plan that’s going to end all this havoc for good.”

-----------------------------------

For the next few days neither of you were bothered by Yujin, which makes you feel uneasy, wondering if she’s really given up or not. Jungkook, however, we could say his mood has been lighter without having her on his back all the time. He was preparing for something else anyway. Your 5th wedding anniversary. The palace hasn’t held the annual banquet for this celebration since you’ve fallen ill, but this year, with your approval, he decided to enlighten the people and show them that you are fastly recovering, coming even stronger than before. The palace buzzed with activity as preparations for the grand banquet began, he’s gotten busy enough through the day, but he managed to always join your side at night.

The servants hurried through the halls, carrying colorful dresses and fragrant flowers. Everyone was looking forward to such a night. In your room the atmosphere was even more chaotic, this being the 10th dress you tried on only to discard it with upset. “This is not it!” you huff making Seol lose her mind, the dresses supplies becoming limited. “My queen, please decide upon one. We have no more left!” she says, making you let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s not about the dress anymore.” you mumble, throwing yourself on your bed. You wanted to look good tonight, to impress all the guests and mostly your husband.

You growl a soft knock interrupting your sulking. But before you could respond, Jungkook steps in “Am I interrupting?” he asks, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“No…I’m just trying to find the right dress.” you replied disappointed, eyes staring at the ceiling above. “No luck until now? I’ve sent you loads of dresses.” you whine rolling on your tummy, looking outside the window. “She’s been trying for three hours already and no luck.” Seol stays exhausted.

“Y/N, my love.” he coos sitting next to you, patting your back gently. “You know you could be dressed in a potato sack and I will still think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes upon?” he says while you pull slightly at your hair in desperation.

“I just want everything to be perfect.” you sadly whimper, making him chuckle. “How about this one then?” He picks the last dress from the stall. A beautiful and pretty simple white gown.

“I think you will look like an angel in this one. Want to try it on for me?” he asks, raising a brow.

“Won’t this make me look like a bride?” you question and he smiles. “I think this will be a good reference, my beautiful bride.” you laugh and grab the dress. “I’ll try it on then.”

Seol helps you in it, tying the corset and putting a frame under it to puff it up a little. You look in the mirror, the dress was indeed beautiful, soft fabric flowing gently down your body, it made you seem so pure, so alive.

Jungkook slowly steps behind you, his hands resting gently on your waist. “There she is, my beautiful wife.” he says, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror’s reflection, looking at you with true adoration. “Thank you.” you say, turning to him, his lips pecking yours slowly. “I should let you get ready, the banquet is close to starting.” satisfied the man leaves your room leaving you to resume your preparation. As the time drew near, you also grew more nervous. Finding yourself in front of the door almost made you turn around. “Don’t be nervous!” Seol urged, pushing some courage towards you. “This is your night.” she puts her hand over yours before arranging the last piece of your outfit, something that has been missing from your head for a long time, a crown.

You took a deep breath and entered the room, the grand hall quieting when they saw you at the top of the stairs. You look down, spotting many familiar figures, the one of your husband’s catching your eyes, taking your breath away. Jungkook was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs, his hand reaching for you to take it. The soft sound of your heels against the marble floor take over the room, whispers erupting around. When you reach him, he takes your hand, pressing a kiss on your ring finger before turning to address the crowd. “The queen has arrived!” A wave of applause and cheers fill the room, people enchanting “All hail the queen!” making you tear up in surprise, grateful to see you were not well forgotten. You could see genuine smiles on many faces, their respect and affection for you evident. “Shall we open the banquet with a dance? What do you think?” Jungkook leads you to the center of the room, your beauty shining brighter in the dim lights. The music starts and you let yourself get carried away by your husband’s lead. More and more people joining along. It felt magical, something so memorable you could remember it for years. You chatted away all night, catching up with important nobles, everyone showed so much love towards you…well, almost everyone. In the corner of the room, a black dress decorated with many precious stones and expensive jewelry prepared for a big showoff, a glass of blood like wine in her hand. Yujin.

Her fingers tighten around the glass, eyes burning on you, seeing you so full of life all of a sudden. She was surrounded by a few nobles who attempted to be polite with her but only managed to get on her nerves.

“She looks radiant, doesn’t she?” one of the women remarked, glancing at you speaking with the crowd. “Yes.” Yujin replied through gritted teeth, her gaze unwavering. “Radiant indeed.”

Byeol was sitting right behind, her fingers playing nervously with the bottle in her pocket. “My lady, your plan…” she leans in to whisper.

“Not yet,” Yujin muttered, her voice low and calculated. “Let her enjoy it a little more, it will be her last moment after all.” she adds, her actions dangerous. The evening carried on beautifully, the grand hall brimming with music, laughter, and conversation. You felt alive again, dearly missing such events in your now dull life. Jungkook remained by your side as you engaged with the guests, from time to time asking about your condition only to hear you’ve never felt as alive as now. He smiled looking down at you, his heart at peace knowing you were shining again, soon the servants started to bring more glasses into the room, people holding toasts in your honor. The servant stopped near you and Jungkook, offering the drinks. He took one, raising it slightly toward you. “To us” he whispered, his eyes sparkling with affection. You smiled, reaching for your own, but before you can grasp it the sound of broken glass startles you. Red liquid spilling at your feet, the bottom of your dress staining in it, shiny shards flickering into the bright fluid. “Oh! My lord!” You hear the commotion, at the bottom of your feet collapsed Yujin, her hand trembling as red wine mixed with the crimson of her blood. "My lord…" she gasps, vividly scared. “The glass…it broke."

You looked down at her, wondering what to do. The room was tense, the whispers of the guests growing louder. “The poor woman.” someone murmured. “Why isn’t the king helping her?”.

“You’re bleeding.” he sys, his voice calm but distant, barely reaching out to her. She starts to cry, sobbing in fear, putting on a show for everyone to see, her maiden pacing worriedly around.

“You should call the doctor, take her to her room, My Lord, she’s bleeding out!” she says in panic. Jungkook looks at you for a second, searching for your reaction, before he helps her back on her feet, his clothes staining with blood.

“Jungkook.” you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll be back, I’m taking her to her chamber.” he lets out a breath, his expression unreadable.

“Please, forgive me.” Yujin whimpers, her voice frail. “I didn’t mean to disturb your celebration.” she says towards you before leaving along with your husband, a glint of evil lying under her fake facade, her hidden grin making a shiver run down your spine.

You look at them as they leave the grand hall, the murmurs growing louder, leaving you exposed under the glares of the crowd. Seol steps closer, her hand brushing your arm gently trying to reassure that everything was going to be alright, but you were not at peace, heath hammering in your chest with a bad feeling.

You stayed calm on the outside, telling people to enjoy what was left of the night, every now and then looking towards the big doors, waiting for your husband’s return not knowing it will be all in vain.

He didn’t return.

You wanted to leave, to go and search for him, but you had a party to lead now so instead, you sent Seol to look after him, hoping something bad didn’t happen. After a couple more hours of agonizing wait you said goodbye to the last guests, the banquet finishing earlier under the worry of your sickness. You left in a rush, looking for Seol, she was nowhere to be found either.

You get back to your chamber, rushing panic flowing into your veins. Should you go search for him some more, perhaps visit his chamber? You gulp, hand cupping your throbbing heart, fear creeping through the cracks of your body.

You jump on your feet when you see the door of your room peaking open, someone falling at the step, a hand showing through the open crack. You rush towards them, opening widely just to be met with a horrifying sight. “Jungkook!” you scream, leaning down to grab the man by the arm, the high temperature of his body hitting you in an instant. He looks up at you, sweat dripping down his forehead, breath raging wild. His eyes were half lidded, barely gazing at you through his lashes. “Do not believe it…I didn’t do anything…” these were the only words he could say, it was like he is in a trance only chanting for you not to believe. You look outside, hoping to see someone, something, the hall was empty. You drag his body inside, taking in more of his ravished look. His shirt was fully unbuttoned chest on full display, so were his pants, his underwear peeking through the gap in the front. He was bright red and breaking in a sweat. For a second you wondered if he’s gotten sick from something, but when he laid down on your bed you could see his raging bulge trying to break free. You didn’t know what to do or say, what happened in the time he was missing? Why was he in such state? You look back for a second, biting your lip, you should go and ask for the doctor. But when you try to take your first step, his hand drags you down, making you fall on top of him.

“Help me.” he whispers. “It hurts…” you look apologetical at him, your feelings running wild with worry. “What happened to you?” you manage to ask, but to no avail. His hands grip the sleeves of your dress, pulling them down your arms, undressing you. “Jungkook, answer me!” you don’t fight back his touch, but you are worried, not knowing what you have to deal with. He only mumbles incoherent words, lips latching onto your neck, sucking purple bruises down your throat.

“Just help me, please.” He whines, his hand rubbing his prominent bulge searching for some relief. You gulp, putting your own hand over it. “We shouldn’t do this, I don’t know what are you on. I should call the doctor.” but despite that you still caress his throbbing member in hope of making him feel better.

“I need you. Now. Just…Y/N, please…” he struggles to take off his clothes while you watch, once naked he lies down in your bed, his eyes closed. “Come on top.” he motions with two fingers towards you. You sigh and take off your dress, climbing gently on top of him.

“This is like our first night together.” he smiles brightly, making you chuckle in slight embarrassment with the thought of such memory. With a little of his help you push his aching cock inside, whimpering at the stretch. He moans loudly, feeling his pressures being relieved. “Good job, baby. Now bounce a little.” He seems completely out of it, but somehow he still takes control over what you do, fully aware of what are you engaging in.

You adjust for a second before you take on, rising from his member until only his hot tip remains inside before bottoming out in one go, ripping loud moans and whimpers out of your chests.

His hands find their way on your waist, helping with your movement, his hips jerking up every now and then, adding to the feeling.

The moonlight was shining upon your naked forms, beams of light reflecting beautifully onto your glittering bodies. “You look like you’re made of glass.” He says, eyes lingering lazily, seeing you deliciously bounce up and down on his cock, enjoying yourself.

“Such beautiful skin, shining brightly into the moonlight, I could stare at you forever, my love.”

You whine, feeling closer to your release, his words almost bringing you over the edge. His hand starts to caress your sides, working higher and higher, fingers dancing on your skin leaving a lingering feeling.

“Are you really made of glass?” he asks in a daze while rising in a sitting position, sticking his chest close to yours, holding you close.

“You’re beautiful…my glass queen.” he whispers, lips catching yours in a fiery kiss, passionate but gentle, handling you with such care, wondering if you are really going to break under his touch.

“Jungkook…” your mind was clouding, coming closer and closer to the feeling you were eager to know once again, the man showing signs of being even further on this height while being held in your embrace.

Without any care and only with another passionate kiss you come undone, body trembling under his touch. Him following, spilling hot inside of you, letting his head rest on your shoulder while trying to search for air.

“My queen…my only queen.” he kept mumbling until he fell limp on your bed, you following right after, too tired to search for answers in the moment. His touches detach you from reality, making you forget the events that have happened tonight.

---------------------------------

When the morning came again you realized Jungkook didn’t remember a thing. He woke up with a throbbing headache wondering how and when he got into your bed.

He couldn’t remember anything after he left with Yujin. You realized. “You really don’t remember?” you ask cautiously, slight guilt crawling into you. “Not a thing. She hurt herself and I took her to her room, I can’t remember what happened after that.” His jaw clenches trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. “What did she do to me?” he wonders. Your stomach twists, trying hard to digest the knot that formed in it. “Should we talk to her?” you ask with worry, a heavy silence breaking between you two.

“Or do we speak to the guards, the servants, anyone who might’ve seen or heard something?” this reminded you, where is Seol. “I’ve also sent Seol to look after you, she’s not since returned!” You rise from the bed in hurry, dressing in the first gown you see. The two of you rush through the palace, your steps dragging you towards the chamber that started all of this, eager to find answers.

Just your luck you thought, her maiden was just leaving the room as you two arrived. Byeol froze, immediately bowing down to you. “You Majesties, what brings you two here?” she hesitantly greeted. “Where is Yujin, I need to talk to her.” says Jungkook in a demanding tone. “Lady Yujin is resting, she’s had a hard night, my Lord. Don’t you remember?” she says with a coy smile. “A little cut won’t need that much bed rest.” his tone laced with skepticism. Byeol hesitates for a split second, thinking, before being interrupted by the door opening.

“What’s with all the noise, I need peace and quiet!” Yujin emerges through the room, her expression one of irritation before laying her eyes on Jungkook, a shy blush appearing on her face.

“My lord, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.” she says putting a strand of hair behind his ears. “So soon?” your husband questions.

“Oh, my poor king! You were so exhausted, I’m not surprised you don’t remember.” she says with smooth words, excitement in her voice.

“Though…I’m a little sad, I thought you'd be happier knowing we consummated our marriage.” she says with an embarrassed look, her eyes meeting yours.

You take a step back gasping, eyes widening in shock at what you heard. Has Jungkook slept with her?

“What did you just say?” he asked, just as stunned. “You were so tender with me last night. It was beautiful. Just as I always imagined it would be.” Her eyes flicked between you two for the brief moment, a spark of triumph obvious in her eyes. You felt your heart drop, staring at your man you could see his knuckles turn white. “Stop lying, I didn’t do anything with you!” he growls at her.

Yujin’s expression falters for a moment “My king, why would I lie about such a thing? Wasn’t this the reason I am here in the first place, the elder queen would be thrilled to find out I’ll bring an honorable heir to this world.”

“You really think I’d believe that?” Jungkook snaps, his voice rising. “She’s lying. Whatever she claims...it’s not true. I swear to you, Y/N.” he says, turning around, his eyes searching for yours. “I feel sick.” you say, nausea overwhelming you as your knees threaten to collapse. Jungkook reaches for you instantly “Don’t trust her, you know I would never dare.” his dark eyes bore into yours, pleading for your trust. You wanted to trust him, the memories from last night kept playing in your head “Do not believe it…I didn’t do anything…” that’s what he kept telling you.

“I’m going to throw up, you say in a rush.” shoving Jungkook away from you kneeling to the ground, your stomach twisting in a hurry.

Jungkook immediately kneels beside you, his hands hovering over your back, unsure if you’d let him touch you any further. You clutch your stomach, trying to calm the turmoil within but failing miserably.

You closed your eyes, the room spinning as you try to steady yourself. “Let’s get you back to your room, I’m calling the doctor. You’re clearly unwell.” He picks you up hurrying to bring you back to the safety of your bed, ordering Byeol to bring the doctor. Yujin is also quick in her steps, following you two trying to look concerned about your situation.

“I don’t need you here!” argues your husband when the mistress enters the room behind. “I only want to help!” she argues back, but deep inside her she just wished to witness if these were your final moments. “Please, just try to relax. The doctor will be here soon.” he calms you down seeing you twist around in your bed, moaning in pain. In a matter of seconds Byeol and the doctor enter the room, both filled with concern. Your Majesty, let me see where it hurts.” he checks up on you briefly before his eyes widen in realization, urging everyone outside the room. Outside the air was tensionate, Jungkook pacing restlessly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he shot anxious glances towards the door, hoping he could receive a quicker response regarding your well-being.

Yujin stood in the corner, arms crossed over her chest, huffing every time her eyes landed on the man, upset she couldn’t get his attention. "Why are you so worried?" She finally breaks the silence making him stop in his tracks. “She’s just having a rough moment, my lord. There’s no need to be so dramatic." she scoffs, making the boy's sharp gaze snapp to her.

“You think this is just a rough moment?” he was on the edge, closer to bursting in anger than he was ever before. “You need to stop with this Yujin. All that’s coming out of your mouth are lies.” he says through gritted teeth, his patience running thin. “You did something to me didn’t you? Yesterday, after I took you out of the grand hall.” he finally asks. “Oh? I did something to you? If I remember correctly I only brought you a few hours of pure bliss my king, too bad it slipped your mind.” she steps closer, her fingers drawing circles on his clothed chest.

“You want me to remind you what we did? How lewd we were?” Yujin’s lips curled into a sneaky smile.

“You’re delusional.” Jungkook says, backing away from her. “Mark my words. I’ll never, in my whole life, engage with someone like you.” “You can’t deny what happened between us. Soon you’ll see the sweet fruit of our labor.” the girl says, making Jungkook’s face twist in disgust.

He wanted to fight back again, to get the answer he desired, but the door of your chamber opened, the doctor showing up with an unreadable expression.

“The queen…” he starts, Jungkook’s stomach dropping with concern. The doctor hesitates for a brief moment, seeming to choose his words carefully before erupting into a heartfelt laughter. “The queen is with child.”

Jungkook’s heart skips a beat at the announcement, his mind struggling to process the doctor’s words. "With child?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, a dumb smile on his face in realization. The doctor smiled kindly at him. “Yes, my king. The queen is expecting. Congratulations!”

A child. His heir. The future of this kingdom. All from the woman he loves most.

He rushes inside the room seeing you waiting patiently on the bed, your hand caressing your belly. “My love!” He says, throwing himself at the edge of the bed. He sobbed in happiness, your hand caressing the top of his head in confort. He could hardly contain his happiness. His child. Your child.

“Thank you.” he says softly, kissing the back of your hand. “Thank you for this blessing.” tears build up into his eyes, this was the beginning of your future, nothing and nobody could change it.

"Rest now, my queen." he soothes you softly, his voice calm, yet holding so much love. "We have so much to look forward to." he kisses your temple, then your eyes, and then your lips. You felt joy, so much joy, but also worry, mind lingering on Yujin and her words and also wondering about Seol’s whereabouts.

There were many things that needed to be solved, but for now you need to rest, to protect the life you are carrying in your womb.

----------------------------------

A ceremony was held in honor of you after the news broke out. The word about your pregnancy spread like wildfire through the royal court and with it came waves of happiness and anticipation for the future of the kingdom. Soon after it was also announced that Yujin was also expecting, leaving the world in shock of how something like this would happen at the same time. Jungkook was critiqued behind closed doors.

He remained resolute though. In private, he only held you close, making sure you felt his unwavering support. You trusted him, you promised to do so.

You knew what Yujin was capable of and even if a part of you felt uneasy, you knew it was for the greater good to not think about her.

As the days passed, Yujin’s presence in the palace became increasingly uncomfortable for you. It was because of her bold attempts to maneuver her way into Jungkook’s life. Every time there was happiness for you it felt like it got stolen away by her.

She seemed to be everywhere you went, when servants made remarks about how beautiful you looked with your growing belly, she’d swoop in with her own subtle reminder that she’s also carrying the king's child.

You tried to ignore her, but the more you tried, the more her presence became impossible to escape. Every time you found a moment of peace with your husband, she included herself demanding his attention.

It wore you down, slowly and methodically. At night, you would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to quiet the unease that bubbled inside you.

When you would hear Yujin’s laughter echoing through the halls, or see her standing too close to Jungkook, a cold sense of dread would settle over your chest. You felt like you were battling a whole army with bare hands, and it didn’t help that you also lost your trusty maiden in the process.

Seol’s absence felt like the final blow to your morale, the one thing you didn’t expect. Her sudden disappearance left you vulnerable wondering who else was there to trust? You felt isolated.

Staying in the garden, with Jungkook by your side, holding your hand, his thumb gently caressing it, you felt secure, his presence bringing you the comfort you needed.

The atmosphere was peaceful, a gentle breeze blowing through your hair, the smell of fresh growing leaves invading your senses.

But close enough the beautiful scenery was disturbed by a surprising presence. “Mother.” Jungkook says, walking towards to greet her in surprise.

“Jungkook, my son, Y/N.” She says, her gaze lingering on you for a moment, a little warmer than before. “I trust you are well, my daughter?” “Yes mother.” You say, bowing slightly but being interrupted by the growth of your child. The elder queen’s lips curl slightly as she looks at you. “You seem healthy.” The elder queen was not one to express warmth without reason, her words made your heart race. “This child has cured me, I’m no longer ill.” you smile caressing your belly. “It is my blessing.” The Queen’s gaze softens for a second. “A blessing indeed.” she murmurs before turning to her son. “How about Yujin, how come you don’t care for her like you do for Y/N?” she asks. “I’ve made myself clear, mother.” the boy replies. “Yujin is no longer of importance to me.” not like she ever was in the first place, he thought “My priorities lie with Y/N and our child.”.

The elder queen’s lips twitch. “She’s also pregnant with your child, Jungkook.” The mention of Yujin’s pregnancy brings a wave of sadness over you, knowing you have to share this spot for the rest of your life.

“The thing she’s carrying is not my son or daughter.” he fights back coldly.

“Are you certain of that, Jungkook? She recalls you don’t remember, but she’s for sure with child, the doctor confirmed.”

“It’s fine, mother.” Yujin’s voice echoes through the garden, making her appearance. “The king clearly cares only for one of his offspring. I’ve learned to accept it.” she says, her tone sad, bitter.

“You should care for both Jungkook, don’t ignore your duties.” the mother scolds him. “I’ve told you, it’s not my child. I won’t care for it.” he firmly declares.

Yujin’s laugh was dry, void of any humor. “Just because you can’t remember doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I’m pregnant too, can’t you see?”. “He’s right, though. It didn’t happen, not how you wanted at least.” Someone interrupts, the new voice was calm but firm, and it belonged to none other than Seol.

"Seol?" you whisper, disbelief washing over you, tears burning into your eyes in happiness. Yujin’s confidence wavered when seeing the maiden."What are you doing here?" she hisses, her tone far less composed now.

“I’m here to reveal the truth you’ve worked so hard to bury. You thought you could silence me by having me removed from the palace? Locked far away from my queen?”

Seol turns her gaze to Jungkook, bowing deeply in front of him. “Your Majesty." she says, taking a step closer.

“She’s drugged you with aphrodisiac.” Everyone freezes at her crude statement. “What?” Your husband questions. “The court physician unknowingly provided her with herbs meant to ‘ease her nerves’ but they were mixed with potent aphrodisiacs. She slipped it into your drink the night of the banquet.”

Your heart pounded in your chest with ease, the pieces of Yujin’s scheme finally falling into place.

“You’re lying!” she screeches, her voice desperate “You’re just a servant! How dare you accuse me of such a thing? I am a queen!”

“I dare!” Seol shoots back. “I have proof, one of the guards has seen all.” Yujin stammers trying to find an excuse, her eyes darting between Seol, Jungkook, and the elder queen, searching for an escape.

“That means nothing! He didn’t want to bed with me! She turns to the elder queen, her voice now a frantic plea. “It’s still his child after all! That can’t be denied!”

The maiden scoffs. “No, it isn’t.” she growls at her. “He left you, he fought back until he arrived at my lady’s room. You wanted to take advantage of him, but even with a clouded mind he still only thought of one woman, the only one he loves.” she says pointing towards you.

“Since the guard has seen he threatened to turn you out, but you paid and promised him a good life if he gave you what you wanted. The child you’re carrying.”

Gasps echo through the garden, and all eyes turned to Yujin, who stood frozen in shock, her face pale. “You’re bluffing!” the woman shrieks, desperate and wild. “You have no proof! This is just another ploy to ruin me!” “The physician and the guard are ready to testify before the court. He’s also here demanding to claim his child.”

Seol confirms, making way for the guard to enter. His first instinct was to throw himself at your feet, pleading at the king to not behead him for his unfathomable actions against him.

“It’s true.” the man declares, his head on the ground. “I am the father of the child she carries. I have betrayed you my king, I beg for your mercy.” The silence that followed was deafening.

Yujin stumbles back, her composure crumbling as her face twists in panic. “N-No! He’s lying! H-He’s trying to destroy me!”

The elder queen’s cold gaze fell on her, unseen fury hiding behind her eyes. “Enough!” she commands “You’ve deceived us all, Yujin! Your lies end here.”she turns to the guard, raising his head from the ground.

“You swear this is the truth?”“I swear on my honor, Your Majesty. She sought me out in her desperation to fulfill your wishes. I could only comply, I was a weak man.” Yujin’s knees buckle, her body hitting the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Guards, take them away!” Jungkook commands, all of you witnessing them being taken away.

Seol turns to you and bows deeply. “My queen, I only wish I could have acted sooner.” she says with sadness in her tone. “You must have endured so much.”

You step forward, your hand resting lightly on her shoulder in reassurance. “Thank you, Seol. You’ve done more than anyone could ask.”

Jungkook approaches, wrapping an arm protectively around you, resting his head on your chest. “It’s finally over, my love.” you smile looking at the family you were building, at the man you never failed to trust.

Jungkook turns towards Seol, his hand resting on top of her hair, blessing her. “Seol, you’ve proven your loyalty to this family and this kingdom. You’ll be rewarded for your bravery.”

The elder queen approaches you with an apologetic look. “This child you carry is a symbol of hope, a way to your strength.” she begins

“I hope you can spare me some forgiveness for all my wrongdoings.” her hands clasp in front of her showing vulnerability.

“Forgiveness is not something I withhold, mother, but it requires time. You’ve hurt us dearly.” She understands you, stepping back, giving you the space you need. It takes time to heal after everything you’ve gone through, perhaps, you can forgive her one day.

You feel hopeful now, the events being a lesson from where you learnt great knowledge. They’ve taught you about loyalty, love, and resilience, lessons that will guide you as a mother, as a queen, and as a partner to the man who has stood by your side.

The sun bathed the palace in its golden light. In that moment you smiled at him, taking his hand into yours, looking lovingly into his eyes, seeing not only a new beginning, but also a future greater than you had ever dared to imagine. In the end, you truly were The Glass Queen, not frail and delicate, but someone who shines the brightest, even after the most treacherous storms.

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