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almostempty · 21 days ago

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Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 | Other fics | Rating: 18+

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and Part 2 a read for a refresh <3

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual.

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice.

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him.

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist.

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text?

No. No, no, no.

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right?

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway.

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you.

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it.

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face.

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down.

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug.

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.”

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her.

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up.

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking.

“What did he say?”

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately.

“Who?”

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety.

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks.

“Oh, you meant Joel?”

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought.

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh.

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it.

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason.

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?”

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it.

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust.

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out.

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.”

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up.

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—”

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.”

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask.

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod.

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo.

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late.

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him.

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world.

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers.

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat.

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn.

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you.

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench.

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp.

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.”

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work.

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie.

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man.

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong.

Except for, well, everything.

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day?

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem.

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening.

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again?

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later.

Joel: More

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise.

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line.

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative.

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day.

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide.

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.”

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason.

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store—

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply.

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly.

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that.

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.”

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone.

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.”

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door.

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone.

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you.

“Jesus,” he grumbles.

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh.

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies.

“Yep.”

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

……..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name.

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes causin’ trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once.

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work.

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?”

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.”

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far.

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now.

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently.

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations.

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you.

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head.

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together.

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you.

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out.

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want.

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine.

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt.

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic?

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.”

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening.

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain.

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted.

“How did you know?”

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.”

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?”

“Don’t.”

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket.

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering.

You: You been thinking about me?

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed.

Joel: Maybe

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already?

Joel: Have you?

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous?

You: A little

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment.

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond.

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away

That has you shaking your head.

You: Patience is a virtue

He’s quick to respond again.

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man

That makes you genuinely laugh.

You: Good

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting.

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous.

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery.

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath.

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good.

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly.

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam.

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him.

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon.

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan.

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore.

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?”

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms!

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you.

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable.

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace.

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers!

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research.

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback.

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it.

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night.

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips.

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that.

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts.

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should.

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself.

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists.

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably.

“They have food, too.” you counter.

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head.

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it.

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.”

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it.

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions.

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening.

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up.

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?”

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.”

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.”

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first.

“Relax,” you purr.

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax.

“Do you have cash?” you ask.

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused.

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows.

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’.

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter.

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same.

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts.

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize.

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts.

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick.

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold.

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles.

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach.

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush.

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?”

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul.

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous.

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid.

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp?

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper—”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties.

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.”

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off.

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up.

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue.

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date.

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right?

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you.

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking.

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.”

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.”

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head.

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.”

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild.

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him.

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you.

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.”

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control.

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back.

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow.

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly.

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?”

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.”

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.”

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams.

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #divorced dad rock dilf joel #creed!joel #pedro pascal character fanfic

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ahundredtimesover · 11 months ago

Text

I Want You to Stay (06) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: We're slowly heading somewhere! Still slow but it's something hehe thank you again for appreciating this piece! 🥰 Also... JK in that Vogue outfit with a corsage. YEP.

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The silence that engulfs Jungkook’s apartment once you enter the following Monday is quite unnerving, as it brings back memories of the last time this happened and a half-naked woman came out of the bedroom and questioned who you were. The gym is empty. There’s no other sound of someone typing away or talking on the phone like the few times that you found Jungkook working before you even arrived.

You take a deep breath and decide to just face whoever comes out of these doors until one of them opens and out comes the man himself - alone - dressed in an oversized jumper and sweatpants. He looks like he just got out of bed with his semi-mussed hair - with a little sprout bouncing along as he moves - and groggy eyes, which widen once it registers that you’re here.

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” he replies, his deep and gruff voice startling you a little. “What do you have there?”

He gestures towards the paper bag you’re holding, and you remember what you decided to bring over.

“Uh, chicken noodle soup,” you mutter, somehow suddenly shy. “Just an option for this morning. I wasn’t sure if you were still feeling under the weather.”

“I think I’m just fatigued,” he says. “But uh, I can have that.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, putting it in a pot to eventually heat.

You prepare his suits for the week then prepare his breakfast, pouring yourself a small serving as well. He takes his seat and starts eating, and you glance at him to see his reaction.

“Where did you get the one from last Saturday?” He asks, his face expressionless.

“From a store nearby,” you answer. “I was heading somewhere and your building was on the way.”

“This tastes better. Where did you get this from?”

“I, uh, I made it,” you say softly, feeling a bit of pride that it’s something he complimented.

There’s prolonged silence that you’re suddenly nervous about. His eyes remain focused straight ahead while yours constantly flit towards him, partly to gauge if he’ll start talking about last week’s meeting and partly to see his reaction about your dish.

“You don’t have to send or make me food, Ms. Cho,” he finally says, wishing he’d said it with a bit more warmth.

But he’s not used to speaking that way, so it comes off as displeasure, as if he doesn’t appreciate what you’d done even if that’s exactly how he feels. He’s grateful; he just doesn’t want another reason to think that you actually care about him.

“My health is my responsibility, not yours,” he adds.

“I, uh… I suppose that’s true,” you say even more softly. “I just thought it would be nice to be given something like this when you’re sick.”

And it’s the truth. During the times you were unwell, Hoseok would remind you to rest or take your medicines; he even bought you vitamins and it’s why taking them became a habit of yours. You barely had the energy to make soup. But after that one time when you braved through an event and Yoongi noticed you feeling under the weather, he took you to a noodle house and ordered extra chicken noodle soup for you to take home. You had it all through the weekend, and though it wasn’t like your mom’s, it was still something familiar, and it was comfort that you badly needed.

You thought it was something you could extend to Jungkook. You weren’t sure if he was spending the weekend at home by himself, but in case he was, you thought that something warm would help. You were on your way to watch a local film and happened to pass by his area, the image of him sick and probably alone prompting you to just buy that dish and leave it at the reception. You suddenly craved it and made one for yourself last night, thinking it wouldn’t hurt if you brought some over for him as well. Even if he thinks it isn’t your responsibility, you think it’s still within your role to make sure that your boss - the Vice President - conducts his functions properly, and he can only do so if he’s healthy.

As you finish the small portion that you prepared for yourself, Jungkook wonders who’d taken care of you during the times you were sick. With your friends and family miles away, perhaps there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it was a boyfriend. Or maybe like what he’s come to see, you did things on your own. Maybe you think there’s no one doing that for him, too.

And you wouldn’t be wrong. He was never good with company, after all, whether it was offering or keeping it. So when someone offers something as simple as a bowl of soup for when he’s feeling unwell, it cuts through the walls he’s built around himself because he’s become used to no one even knocking to check how he’s doing.

But in an effort to remain unmoved and insistent on keeping his distance, he sets boundaries once more.

“You don’t need to do this for me, Mr. Cho,” he states. “I appreciate it, but I’d prefer if you don’t do it again.”

He sees your face fall from his periphery, and much as he wants to take it back, he knows he has to hold back. It was hard enough to resist feeling cared for.

He’d really spent the weekend by himself, turning down his friends’ invitation to go to a resort and Hoseok’s offer of dinner at this newly opened steak house. Jungkook was buried under the covers when the phone rang informing him that you’d left something for him, unwilling to move and get off the bed because he was too tired but also too hungry, so when he opened the bag and it registered to him what you've given him, he felt less alone and less sad for himself. The image of your shy expression flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help the smile he let out, giving himself only a minute to bask in your kindness before reminding himself that it means nothing more than making sure he’s well. It’s harder for you if he’s sick, he convinced himself. Still, he’d rather not think about it; he’d rather not torture himself by his brain wanting you to mean one thing, but his heart hoping it was another.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice a little too firm for his liking. “I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“It—” didn’t, he wants to say. It made him feel nice and comfortable and that’s what he can’t let himself feel around you.

“I treat this as part of my job,” you reason, a half lie because you really did want to extend some kindness even if he may not exactly be deserving of it. “But it may not be so for you. I’ll take note of this moving forward.”

Jungkook concedes. Any objection will counter what he’s been saying, even if he didn’t mean all of it. And like how you always do, you get over it quickly, flashing him a measured smile and taking out your iPad to go through this week’s schedule.

You both head to the car after and discuss his previous meetings. You’re detailed and engaged, taking down notes and asking him questions like the professional that you are. He tells you about his meeting with artist Lee Jaemin and that he agreed with 80% of the pieces that you and Yoongi chose. You talk about the Board members’ reactions during his presentation and he shares what they talked to him about during the dinner.

“Socializing with them was tiring,” he admits. “I couldn’t keep up with all the things that they wanted to talk about.”

You give him an assuring smile. “You looked like you did well,” you assure him. “They seemed engaged, although as Mr. Jung would say, part of that is for show, to get on your good side. It would be smarter to think that not all of it was genuine.”

“True. But I enjoyed speaking with Mr. Saito. He’s an architect, too, and we had a really good talk about incorporating traditional elements in a modern design.”

“Yes, he’s always been kind,” you say. “But it’s good that you’re able to forge these relationships. Perhaps it’s also new to them, seeing you in that light. I suppose they don’t know you all that much. It’s a nice change being able to engage with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, well, it’s just during the company events that you attended, it wasn’t exactly hard to spot you,” you chuckle, seemingly comfortable now.

“And why is that so?”

He turns to you, legitimately curious because he’d never really noticed you before, even if he knew you as Hoseok’s assistant. If he’s being honest, you didn’t even look familiar when you first met, and that just reinforces the fact that Jungkook didn’t really care for the other people around him, especially during those events he was required to fly to Seoul to attend. If he’d paid a bit more attention, maybe he wouldn’t have been caught off guard when he did finally meet you. Maybe he wouldn’t have been as rude, too.

“If I may, sir, it was quite easy to spot one of the Jeon sons always at the bar,” you chuckle. “Your father and cousin would often look for you and you were always in the same spot.”

You’d noticed him, Jungkook thinks to himself. He wonders what you’d thought about him then, but given how he hated those events, it probably wouldn’t be something good. He just always couldn’t wait to leave.

“Ah. As you can tell, I’m not one who likes to socialize,” he says. “I don’t really know what to talk to people about. And I’m not that good with names nor faces. It was easier to keep to myself.”

“That’s understandable. But you already know that’ll have to change,” you remind him. “Half of what Mr. Jung did was attend events.”

“I know. He’s been preparing me for that. I need your help in that aspect, too, from remembering names to getting my energy up. Those are oddly what I’m most nervous about, if I’m being honest.”

“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I hope I can make things easy for you.”

You’ll never know the irony of your words, and perhaps the push and pull it brings about - as you try to make things easy for him, the harder it actually becomes on his end.

You find yourself back at the tailor shop the next Thursday for Jungkook’s suit fitting, and if it wasn’t for Taehyung telling you that your gowns are ready, you would have totally forgotten that you had some dresses made as well.

While Jungkook tries on his outfits, you’re instructed to choose several dress shirts that he’d be adding to his wardrobe, given the various functions he’d be attending from now on. You didn’t anticipate for this to be part of your role, but you don’t mind, as it’s a welcome change to what you normally do, which is attend meetings, bury yourself in paperwork, and everything else in between. At least you’ll be visiting the venue for the Arts Center event tomorrow, but today, you focus on the task at hand, which turns out to be harder than expected.

The options are endless. It doesn’t help that you have to envision Jungkook in each piece of clothing and that he looks good in every one of them, and that you have to imagine him at all. You see him everyday - and have seen him in as little as in just his gym shorts - and you don’t really want to have him in your mind as well. But how he presents himself is a big part of his new role, as Hoseok had told you. As the Vice President, Jungkook needs to look sophisticated and respectable, someone worthy to represent the company and the Jeon family name.

You go for different hues of grays and blacks and other colors, too. There’s an olive green that looks really nice, and a few maroons and pinks that would add variety to his everyday look. You’re focused on making your choices, but your focus shifts to Jungkook when he comes out of the dressing room donned in a patterned black suit. The fit is perfect and even with the distance between you two, you could spot impeccable details that make the outfit look elegant yet fresh.

“This is for the gala,” Taehyung states. “What do you think, Ms. Cho?”

“It looks nice” is all you manage to say.

It’s the only word you feel is neutral enough to describe him. Even if you could accept that Jungkook is handsome, you don’t exactly want to say so in front of him.

“I was going for something better than nice, but that should be fine, I guess. What do you think, Kook?”

“I like it. But don’t you think the sleeves are a bit too fit on my arms?” Jungkook asks his friend.

“Well, it’s not like you were flexing them when I was measuring you,” Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes. “But I can adjust it, since I doubt you’d take a pause on lifting weights anyway. It’s probably the material though so don’t worry, I’ll fix this. Okay, on to the next one.”

You return to your task at hand, choosing some patterned tops that are appropriate for less formal events, and you inform Taehyung who then says that he’ll have those made in Jungkook’s measurements. With your task finished, Taehyung instructs you to head downstairs so you could fit your gowns as well, and you follow in anticipation because these might just be the first and only custom-made pieces of clothing you’ll ever have the luxury of wearing.

A female staff assists you, making sure that the length and neckline are to your liking. The first outfit, the one for the Arts Center event, is an old rose sleeveless lace midi dress that looks even more gorgeous when worn. The gown for the Appointment Dinner is a black short-sleeved pleated piece that is both functional and fashionable, but it’s the last one - the one for the gala - that has your jaw dropping to the ground.

“Ms. Cho,” you hear Taehyung call out from outside the fitting room. “Is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, unable to stop looking at yourself in the mirror and turning around to try to see every angle of the stunning dress. “It’s just, uh…”

“It’s what?” He asks worriedly. “Can you come outside so I can see?”

You take a breath before pulling the heavy curtains open and find Taehyung and Jungkook standing not far away.

“It’s too pretty, Mr. Kim,” you say shyly. “I don’t think I can wear this.”

“Well, you will. Because it’s custom-made,” he points out. “And it looks gorgeous on you. It fits perfectly. I assume the others do as well?”

“Yes,” you smile, feeling like a fairytale princess who gets to wear a gown that her fairy godmother had made for her. “They’re just…”

“Exactly what you need as this guy’s right hand woman,” Taehyung finishes for you.

He gestures towards his best friend who seems expressionless and probably unimpressed by how you look. It’s not like you mind but it at least wouldn’t be humiliating if he just stood there looking uninterested.

“What do you think, Kook?”

“It looks nice,” Jungkook shrugs, repeating the words you’d used on him earlier. Shifting his gaze from you to Taehyung, he excuses himself. “I’ll head to the car, I have calls to make.”

“I’ll finish up here,” you say, turning around to go back to the fitting room.

Jungkook exits the shop and finally breathes, feeling like he’d suffocated inside because of how you looked. He’d wondered how the dresses turned out, curious about the designs because Taehyung didn’t want to show him; it’s a surprise, the man had said. And now Jungkook knows why.

Stunning would be an inadequate word to use. The burgundy color of the gown made it look sophisticated on you, even more with the off-shoulder that showed off some of your features that he’d rather not think about. The flow was elegant, and he half wishes that he hadn’t thought of having these made only so he could avoid the moment earlier when he felt his throat dry up because of how beautiful you looked.

He’s gonna have to get used to being rendered speechless every time, he thinks, but it’s not like it doesn’t happen everyday, anyway. Every morning that he finds you standing in his kitchen, donning the pencil skirt and blouse ensemble that assistants are recommended to wear, his mind short circuits. There’s something especially fresh and electrifying about you at the start of the day, and he always has to pull himself together and act normal around you without giving himself away.

He can’t nurture the attraction, after all, even if he’s reminded of it during times like earlier, even more so when he gazes at you and you hold it, letting the tension build unconsciously. Because that’s what happened, as you pulled open the curtains and looked up. He wishes you were too shy to notice how long he had his eyes on you. But it’s why he had to get away. You’re too much for him sometimes, and he doesn’t know if you have any idea of how you affect him.

Jungkook stares at his phone, half hoping that an actual call would come to distract him. But nothing does, and he leans his head back and groans in frustration. What is it about you that makes him absolutely weak in the knees and stupid in the head?

Back inside, you give Taehyung your address so he can have the gowns delivered to your apartment for your convenience.

“Thank you again, Mr. Kim,” you say. “I wish I could do your creations justice.”

“You will. It’s in the confidence, so exude it, okay?”

“I’ll try,” you giggle. “Especially since those pieces will pretty much blow the Office of the VP’s budget.”

“Is that what Kook said? That these are budgeted under him?” Taehyung arches an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes, sort of. I just assumed because he’d pointed out that they were being made as part of my functions,” you explain.

“Hmm. I know his office has a lot of money but these gowns would definitely blow up any contingency fund you have,” he chuckles. “So no, your assumption is wrong. Kook’s paying for all this.”

“What?” You exclaim. “But that’s— why?”

“Well, you do need these as part of your job, and he wanted to save you the inconvenience of spending for them. I mean, he did buy Lucas some suits, too. But between you and me, I think this is his way of apologizing to you, just in a very gallant way.”

“You mean unnecessary and undeserving,” you correct, still in shock that Jungkook is paying for all those, even if yes, he can easily afford them.

“Nope, not at all. I know he’s been difficult to deal with and I’d like to apologize on his behalf, seeing that he’s terrible at doing it. I know it doesn’t make things better but at least it’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.”

“Well, that does help a bit,” you smile, following him as he heads out the door. “But thank you again, Mr. Kim.”

“Off with the formalities,” he laughs. “It’s Taehyung. And you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do to somehow make up for my ass of a best friend.”

“He’s not too bad. Not anymore, at least,” you counter. “I’ll go ahead. Have a good day, Taehyung!”

Jungkook manages to look down on his phone in time for you not to see him watch you talk freely and casually with his friend. That’s another person close to him who gets to experience how you’re like - joyful and warm, perhaps a little shy sometimes, but comfortable just the same. It’s something he’ll only see from afar; your positions necessitate some distance, but perhaps that’s better than not having you around at all.

You enter the car and you’re back to being quiet and reserved, your eyes focused on the road while Jungkook, in an effort not to keep glancing at you, turns to his leather notebook and doodles some designs that pop in his head. It’s his way of calming himself down most days, helping him focus given that his mind is often filled with too many thoughts that he can’t express. He hopes that in drawing them, he can somehow rid himself of the feelings he’s locked in and it helps, as he’s somehow able to get over the tension from earlier and the tiniest bit of jealousy over your casual engagement with Taehyung.

You both return to the office, with Jungkook proceeding to his room to prepare for a lunch meeting and you follow, taking some signed documents that he’d left earlier.

“Mr. Jeon,” you say as he settles in his seat. “Thank you for the dresses. I… I’ve never had anything as beautiful as those and undeserving as I may feel, I’m just really appreciative.”

Jungkook isn’t prepared for the softness in your voice as you say the words, and like the consistent jerk that he is, he brushes it off.

“Taehyung made them; you should thank him. I just paid for them,” he utters, his tone stern and uncaring.

His eyes flit to you when there’s silence on your end, and he wishes they hadn’t. There’s resignation in yours, as if he’s shattering another moment you’re creating where you’re just being sincere and he’s being dismissive. It’s his default, he reasons, not just towards you but towards everyone. Normally he wouldn’t mind how the other would take it, but with you right now, he wishes he was so much better than this.

You hold his gaze, as if trying to tell him things you don’t want to express. He’s not one to apologize, but he also won’t accept gratitude. You’re starting to think that what Jungkook can’t handle is any form of human connection. It’s something you struggle with at times, but you’re at least open to it, willing to accept kindness and appreciating people for what they have to offer. Jungkook deflects; he turns away. It seemed like it took so much for him to even verbalize needing your help and perhaps he was desperate; his reputation was on the line after all. But even then, he doesn’t give nor does he accept, and you wonder what made him that way.

“Is there anything else?” He finally asks after a long beat of silence.

“Nothing more,” you shake your head and excuse yourself.

Returning to your desk, you look at Jungkook from your seat. There’s a hint of emptiness in his eyes that you often mistake for apathy. Perhaps there’s more and perhaps the help he really needs isn’t just about dealing with his father or remembering names or navigating relationships required for his role. Maybe it’s about opening himself up a little, or smiling when the situation calls for it, or not questioning other people’s kindness towards him. Maybe it’s about realizing he’s more than just this heir to the company or the playboy he’s known as. Maybe it’s about seeing that he’s capable of sincerity and gentleness as well.

You sigh to yourself. It’s probably a long shot but you only feel strongly about it because you know what it’s like to turn people away. If it hadn’t been for your family and friends, you probably would’ve continued to do so. Jungkook may be your boss but he’s human, too, and he may just be waiting around to see who’d be patient enough to extend a hand and let him know that he’s not alone, that someone understands, and maybe that someone is you.

The days fly by too quickly for your liking and you haven't been able to take a breath. You had a meeting with the organizing committee of the Appointment Dinner most of last Friday and you spent your weekend coordinating with the designers for the Arts Center launch. It’s been last minute preparations these past two days and before you know it, Wednesday has come. You stayed late the night before and were gladly checked in at the hotel with the other assistants, so you at least got a bit of sleep even if your body felt like it continued to stay awake.

But tonight is important, as the newly appointed executives will be formally introduced to the corporation’s directors, shareholders, and subsidiary companies. You’ve been organizing this with the planning committee since the appointments were announced, and given that coordinating events like this is one of your primary tasks, you’re exhausted and excited and nervous all at once. But it’s the second time you’re doing this and you’ve learned so much since you did this for Hoseok. There’s more knowledge, sure, but there’s also more confidence. You also know enough to eat before the guests arrive and at 3PM, it’s exactly what you do, knowing you won’t have much else until the event ends.

The other employees compliment your dress, and you’re too shy to say who had designed it but you eventually do, knowing it’s good for Taehyung’s brand. But you don’t say much else, choosing instead to focus on the guest list as you’re tasked to do, and you go around the events hall to make sure that the VIP name cards are placed on their proper tables. You’re able to sneak bites of the canapes as you go, allowing yourself a flute of champagne for that kick you need to socialize with the guests tonight.

You engage with the early birds when they arrive, guiding them to their seats and putting on your most welcoming smile. You get Mr. Ri’s message that they’re nearby, so you head outside and stand by the entrance and wait for them, knowing Jungkook would want to know how things are going.

He exits the car in a black suit and white top, a statement brooch adorning his classic coat. The strands of his long hair are tucked behind his ears and he looks even more polished than usual, a look that catches attention; it definitely catches yours.

“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Some of your invited guests have arrived.”

“Have you spoken to them?” He asks, as you walk slightly behind him towards the venue.

“I have, and they’re looking forward to seeing you.”

He nods, and just as he’s about to enter the hall, he stops and turns towards you.

“You’re busy tonight, aren’t you?”

“Somewhat, sir,” you reply. “We all have our tasks but I’m free to move around. Do you need help with anything?”

“Just, uh, names.”

“I’ll always be nearby,” you assure him.

Your smile gives him the comfort he needs. He’s been without it since yesterday afternoon, given that you had to prepare as part of the organizing committee. And while the support team and Yoongi have been encouraging, only you really know why every event such as this is important for him.

Jungkook has already made gains with some of the Board members last week; this time, it’s about engaging everyone else - the staff, the partners, and key personalities in the industry. Hoseok and Ji-woo have done this before but it’s Jungkook’s first time. He’s no longer just an executive in the Southeast Asian office; he’s now the Vice President of the entire company. There’s a lot of pressure that comes from carrying the Jeon family name, and even more being the only one of the two sons who’s taking on such an important role.

The event hall is grand. It’s pretty special, too. It’s one of the projects he worked on as part of the design department years ago before he left for Singapore, and the thought makes him stop. Perhaps this is the reason why his father chose this venue for tonight; if anything, it’s a reminder of what Jungkook is capable of. He takes a breath and looks around to soak everything in before approaching his invited guests - partners and consultants he worked with in his previous role.

But that ends quickly, as many more people approach him for a greeting.

Jungkook is a bit overwhelmed. He tries to hold eye contact when he speaks to them but he can only do so for so long. Some faces are familiar but the names escape him, and he starts to regret all the times that he flew here for events like this and never engaged with the other guests. If he had, perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard.

There are those who introduce themselves, while there are those who don’t, perhaps assuming that he’d know who they are. Just like the couple who’s speaking to him excitedly, and he wants to return the energy by at least calling them by their names. His mind is blank, and just as he’s about to give up, he looks up and sees you, your eyes catching his as if you’re just waiting for his cry for help.

There’s pleading in his eyes and you get it immediately, as you walk towards his direction then greet the pair next to him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” you say. “It’s lovely to see both of you again. I saw in the news that you’re launching a new project with our partners from Dubai. That’s quite exciting.”

“Ah, Ms. Cho,” they greet you back. “Yes, all thanks to Mr. Jung who helped us with that partnership. We’re excited for it as well.”

“Oh, I’m sure. We’re looking forward to it,” you smile.

“Thank you. I’m pleased to know that you remain as the Vice President’s assistant,” Mrs. Yamada says. “Perhaps we can invite Mr. Jeon to one of our hotels in Japan? Or even in London?”

You turn to Jungkook who looks less tense than he did a few minutes ago.

“Ah, yes, that would be great, Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” he responds. “I’m sure I’ll find time during one of my trips and I’ll definitely give you a call. Perhaps we can talk about projects we can work on as well.”

The excitement in the couple’s faces is a joy to see and for their sake, you really do wish that Jungkook makes good on his promise. You ask him about it after they leave, and he says that the names were familiar. Ji-woo’s talked about working with them before and that they’re long-time friends of the family, so he should maintain that relationship.

A call of his name prompts both of you to look to the side, and he turns to you with a questioning face.

“Mr. Adam’s an investor. Behind him is Professor Zhang from SNU. They’re friends of your father,” you tell him. Seeing Bitna signal for you, you say, “I have to check on something, Mr. Jeon. I’ll be back.”

You turn around to head to one of the tables, but you look back to watch Jungkook greet those who approach him, his smile becoming more natural as the moments pass by. You briefly meet with some staff about the musical guest and some other last minute adjustments. You greet Taehyung and Seokjin who show up to support their best friend, with both men complimenting how you look.

Knowing that Jungkook will be needing you again after, you call over Do-hyun and Yohan and delegate some of your monitoring tasks to them, and then stand by one of the tables as you watch the socialization take place as more guests come in.

Your eyes find Jungkook again as he’s engaged in a conversation with some Board members and other partners, and you smile a little at how he’s able to maintain eye contact and look like he’s actually interested, especially after he looks up and gives you a look as if to say that he’s trying his best.

“Why are you watching him like some child who’s trying to make friends at the playground?” Chin-sun asks, the teasing tone of her voice making you chuckle. “He’s a grown man, you know? He can hold his own.”

“I know,” you reply, turning to her. “But it’s one of the many things that’s new about his role. And probably one of the more important ones. I just wanna let him know that he’s doing a good job.”

“Well, there’s no wife or girlfriend to do that. I guess that makes it your responsibility then.”

You disregard her comment’s implication and point out that Hoseok does that for Jungkook, too, but he’s just as busy and perhaps just as nervous as well.

“It matters a lot to hear it. Plus, social events can be overwhelming and isolating at the same time. He’s still getting used to it,” you add.

The prolonged silence prompts you to turn to her.

“You know, I admire you for a lot of things,” she says. “Your ability to remain kind after everything is one of them. I mean, after how he treated you those first few weeks? That was tough.”

Your resigned face pushes her to continue. “Do-hyun could’ve gone on without telling me about seeing you cry and I still would’ve known. You tried to hide it but your smile always fell too fast and your eyes were just always sad. Must’ve been hard, trying to get the team on his side when you couldn’t do that for yourself.”

“I honestly don’t know how I survived that first month,” you laugh to mask the sadness from that experience. “But that’s in the past. He still has his moments but at least there are good ones now. I’m here to do my job. Being kind after everything is part of it.”

“I wish you didn’t have to keep it to yourself though,” she laments. “If we couldn’t help, we could’ve at least cheered you up.”

“I didn’t want to bring you guys into it,” you say. “The team was incredibly busy with so many things and I managed. That’s what matters.”

“Oh, ___,” she sighs. “You put so much of yourself in your job. I think that’s why the bosses trust you. But that takes so much out of you, too. Do you have anything left for yourself?”

“What’s left is right here, Chin-sun. I don’t think I know what I am outside of all this.”

“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, I’ve worked with you for three years and I can’t say I really know you outside of this, too. And if you can’t… well, that’s something to think about.”

“And I have. It’s something I’ve asked myself, but trying to find the answer isn’t as easy as asking the question. So I just put all my energy into my work because where else would I? It at least pays the bills and lets me enjoy little luxuries every once in a while,” you reason.

“Well, I know what learning who you are outside of this job would entail, and I’m a little selfish because I need you around,” she smiles. “No one does things the way you do, and that’s also why I figured that at some point, Mr. Jeon was gonna get himself together because he can’t afford to lose you. You’re so good at this, ___. He’s lucky you didn’t quit.”

“Apparently, it takes a lot to get me to quit,” you reply.

Or I was just never brave enough to do it, you want to say. Asking the question is indeed always easier than finding the answer.

“Let’s hope you find a way to find yourself without resigning. We can’t afford to lose you, too,” she winks.

“I appreciate that, Chin-sun. Thank you.”

“Well, I think it matters that you know that you’re doing amazing. I hope he treats you as you deserve.”

He tries, you think to yourself. At least that’s what you hope.

The call of your names from a familiar voice excites you, as A-yeong approaches you and Chin-sun. You engage in your usual hushed conversations until you see Jungkook in another sea of people and you decide to approach him, the relief on his face telling you that he’s indeed been needing you.

It’s not your preferred crowd. Something you’ve learned in your years of attending these events is that you would smile and entertain them and men would think it’s an invitation to invade your personal space. A lingering touch on the elbow, a hand on your waist, standing a millimeter too close… and they disregard your uncomfortable look or attempts at stepping away.

The man you’re introduced to is new but his ways aren’t, and you scan the hall to find Bitna who turns to you in time, the look you give her signaling another person to look out for. It’s a system they developed that they’ve filled you in on, and you immediately excuse yourself and check on the food served at the back even if you know they’re still well stocked. It at least allows you a breather. You’re not even a main actor but you’re tired as hell from socializing with people.

It’s not long after when the event starts. Speeches and a performance take place while dishes are being put out, and it’s after the main course is served when Jungkook steps away from his seat.

Choosing to stand towards the back before he’s called on stage to be introduced, he scans the hall and thinks about the work that the committee put in, including you, who had to deal with him while dealing with all this. He catches sight of you speaking with the other assistants, and he already knows there’s some planning going on. But like the last time, he felt you around even if you were busy; you held his gaze during the times he felt a little overwhelmed.

“You ready?”

Yoongi’s voice is deep but calming, and Jungkook takes it as his friend’s way of encouraging him.

“Not really, but I’ll manage.”

“Good. You’ve got people on your side,” Yoongi assures him. “Like me. And especially her.”

He gestures towards the left where Jungkook sees you approaching them. Since you started working for him, he didn’t expect how easily he could find comfort in your presence. He went from wishing you were someone else, to wanting to distance himself from you, to constantly hoping you were around. Those last two could actually coexist, and they do. There’s still detachment as his means to combat the attraction - he tries not to care about you, to not get to know you, to remind himself of who you are in his life, but he still depends on you for support, for comfort, for stability. You make his life easier; you also make it feel less lonely. And every time you’re there is a moment where he feels like he could breathe, like the noise in his mind stills because he’s forced to focus on you; somehow, you captivate him that way.

“Are you ready, Mr. Jeon?”

The contrasting tenderness of your voice gives him that boost and he nods despite the lingering nervousness.

“I guess so,” he huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”

He walks towards his seat up front while you stay behind with Yoongi who leads you to one of the free tables at the back. You both don’t say much to each other, focusing instead on the short speeches that Ji-woo and Hoseok give, both of them expressing their gratitude and giving previews of upcoming projects to look forward to. They’re masters at commanding a crowd, as evidenced by their engagement and loud applause at the end of it. You can already imagine Jungkook feeling even more nervous, knowing that’s not really his style, but you hope that your earlier encouragement lingers, as he walks towards the stage.

He delivers his speech flawlessly. Knowing him the way you do, you could tell he let his vulnerability shine through, even if it may not seem much to everyone else. The teaser about the Arts Center gets people excited, which he builds up on. He even slides in a few jokes that surprisingly get the audience entertained.

A small smile paints your face and from next to you, Yoongi chuckles in almost disbelief.

“Is it safe to say you’re proud of him?” He asks, as Jungkook walks down the stage and CEO Jeon takes the mic.

“You could say that,” you turn to him. “It’s silly, considering how things started. I… I didn’t think I’d be genuinely rooting for him, you know? But I am. I really want him to do well.”

“That’s good to hear, ___. I guess it means that things really are changing and he’s treating you better.”

“I think they are,” you hum. “I mean, not the best, but I also don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. I guess I’m just understanding who he is a little bit better now. And I think that makes the difference.”

“Like I said, he’s not a terrible person. He just needs… someone to be patient with him, someone to show him kindness,” Yoongi says. “I think that’s what he lost along the way. He stopped being that way to himself and so did people. They just didn’t want to upset him, but they also didn’t give or show anything more.”

“You think so?”

“Why do you think it’s so hard for him to forge even the simplest and most basic connections?” Yoongi questions. “They lack meaning for him. I think he’s forgotten what that’s like. Without sincerity or kindness, without intensity or honesty, there’s just… emptiness. Everything is fleeting for him.”

“And you’re telling me this, why?” You eye him curiously.

“Because I think your kindness did something to him.”

“And that is?”

“He’s showing a bit of that to himself, too. And I guess to others as well,” Yoongi explains.

“I’m a mere assistant doing her job, Yoongi,” you shake your head. “It’s a little selfish but I do what I can to appease him and to make our relationship good enough to make this job bearable for me. If it makes him a better person, good for him and better for me. I’ll just keep doing it then.”

Your friend’s silence prompts you to turn towards him. He seems to be in deep thought, perhaps analyzing what you’d just said, which he tends to do.

There’s no lie in your statement. You’d done your part of standing up to Jungkook at the start; you at least got to show you were capable of fighting for yourself in that sense. But after that, you learned that keeping things in and letting him see how his actions affect you works as well. You show kindness because it’s natural for you, but also because it keeps the peace, it keeps both of you stable.

But you can also admit that you do all that because wanting him to know that he’s got you on his side is a way to tell yourself that you’ve got people rooting for you, too, even if you’re not the best at keeping relationships nor keeping people close. You show Jungkook what you want to experience from people; you make him feel what you want to feel. Maybe that makes you selfish. You think it also makes you human.

It’s not something you tell Yoongi, though. But maybe with the way he looks at you assuringly, you suppose he knows it, too.

The event finally ends and the guests start exiting the venue. You bid them goodbye while instructing some in-house staff about cleaning up. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon greet you on their way out, commending you for your work along with the others, and it’s their encouraging smiles that remind you of one of the reasons why you stick to this job. They’re people you don’t want to disappoint as well, and seeing them satisfied is always a good thing.

“Hey, you’re officially off the clock,” Bitna reminds you. “A couple of us are staying for closing, remember?”

“Right,” you smile.

They have a day off tomorrow because of tonight but it’s not something you can afford, given that you’ve got the Arts Center event one a week from now. It’s almost midnight and you’d have to be up in 5 hours.

“I’ll get going then. I’ll just say goodbye to— oh, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finding him just as you were about to look for him. “Is there anything I can help you with before I leave?”

“Oh, there’s nothing. Just, uh, how are you getting home?”

“A cab,” you answer.

Yoongi nudges your arm from next to you with a pout on his face. “Yah! I’ll take you home. It’s not safe to take a cab this late.”

“Yes, that’s preferable, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook says. “It’s been a long night.”

“Okay, sir,” you nod. “And it has. You also did really well. I didn’t expect the jokes but they were obviously a hit. Yoongi laughed, that’s how I know.”

“You laughed, too,” Yoongi points out.

“I’m glad it worked, then,” Jungkook says. “You can get going. You can also report to my place at 8AM to give you more time to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungkook heads out and rushes to the car where Mr. Ri drives him home. His mind is still buzzing from what transpired but he’s glad he managed like he said he would, like you believed he would.

And amidst the relief that he did well and the nervousness from having to do something similar again next week, there’s you, a vision that he quickly shakes off and one he finds himself seeing after every big and small thing that he does.

Your warm shower and your bed have never felt this good, only because you’re as tired as you are and you want nothing more than the weekend to come. But you’ve got a few more stressful days ahead of you and you try to push through them one at a time.

You go to Jungkook later than usual that Thursday then spend much of the entire day meeting with him and the team about next week’s event. You conduct a visit to the venue the next day and then spend the weekend answering guests’ queries and helping Chin-sun coordinate with suppliers. Monday and Tuesday have you going from one place to another and hopping from one meeting to the next, all while balancing your executive assistant and events manager responsibilities.

It’s incredibly tiring, but you also won’t deny the exhilaration you feel. There’s something so satisfying about seeing everything come together, especially as you look around the venue - an industrial commercial space that Jungkook and Yoongi jointly designed specifically for tonight. The high ceilings allow for the large panels that project the Arts Center design, with bright lights Illuminating the curated sculptures and art pieces placed around. The space elicits a feeling of newness and familiarity, of hollowness and clarity. There’s integration of traditional and modern elements and essentially, of history and emergence.

It leaves you quite breathless as you look around. It’s not even the Arts Center itself but you know that this is the emotion that Jungkook wants the guests to feel. He wants them to be in awe, to look on in excitement.

“It’s pretty great, huh?” Yoongi asks next to you. “Worth all the hard work.”

“It is. Design and logistics did amazing in putting this together,” you say, given that you’ve spent the entire day working with both teams to set this up.

“Well, Jungkook’s vision is captivating to begin with. It really makes a difference when you’re led by a creative mind. Selling the idea won’t be so hard in a place like this.”

“I really hope so. We’re banking on the artists for exposure. There are gonna be articles about it, too. The whole process is being documented and that makes the final product much more exciting,” you explain. “I… I actually feel really good being a part of this. I’m glad I didn’t quit after that first week.”

Yoongi laughs along with you, knowing now that that experience no longer bothers you the way it used to. But he’s glad about it, too, not only because he selfishly wants you around but even more, he knew that you needed this, that you needed to feel redeemed in Jungkook’s eyes and in yours. Yoongi hopes that as the project goes on, you’ll learn more about yourself and what you want, what you’re good at, what you can give, and what makes you happy.

“That makes both of us. I’m sure Jungkook thinks so, too,” Yoongi replies.

“Well, we’ll never know because he’ll probably never admit it but it’s a good thought,” you smile. “As long as we maintain this unproblematic dynamic, I’m good.”

“Speaking of which, where is he?”

“On the way,” you say. “He had a meeting to attend and he said he’ll be fixing up here. He should be here in a few minutes.”

Do-hyun approaches you about the photographer and you excuse yourself, instructing Yohan next to her to lead Jungkook to the waiting room when he arrives.

Jungkook steps into the venue and like he’d hoped, he feels the energy as he takes it all in. There’s a lot of possibility as he looks around, and that’s what he wants the guests to see. He wants the artists to envision their own pieces displayed; he wants the creatives to imagine fashion shows and photo shoots and videos that come to life; he wants people to see the potential of an Arts Center beyond just looking at art pieces.

But underneath the pride is nervousness. There will be important personalities coming today and it’s his opportunity to engage with them, to make them want to be a part of this. Talking about the details of the project would be easy; it’s connecting with them that’s a challenge. He had last week’s Appointment Dinner as a trial and like you said, he did well. It’s tonight that matters so much more to him. He supposes that what happens will set the trajectory for how the promotion of the Center will go, so making a good first impression is crucial.

Yohan approaches him and leads him towards the waiting room where his outfit, which Taehyung had pressed and sent over here, hangs on a rack. There are two magazine publications that will feature this event and both include an interview with him and some photos.

Jungkook starts dressing up, knowing he’ll be called for those not long from now. He looks at himself in the mirror and the uncertainty fills him again. It’s not the look he would’ve gone for but his best friend was adamant that an event like this calls for something new. With his trousers and fitted shirt on, Jungkook breathes in and out, and it’s at the same time when there’s a knock on the door and your call of his name suddenly makes him nervous.

You enter, stopping as you shut the door, your eyes a little wide, and look at him. You’re a sight to behold in your floral-laced dress and if he was anxious seconds ago, he’s even more now.

“I knew I should’ve stuck to the classic,” Jungkook sighs at your unmoving form.

“What—what do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, finally finding your voice.

“You’re not saying anything,” he frowns. “Tonight probably wasn’t the best time to show up in an outfit like this.”

“And why is that?” You wonder, walking closer to him now. You try to calm your racing heart because Jungkook looking this good in a checkered flared trouser and white v-neck shirt was not something you expected. “You look…”

“Pretentious?” He chuckles, shaking his head and bending towards the mirror, his angled body making you feel even hotter.

You’ve long accepted that Jungkook is a very handsome man. It’s probably why it was more frustrating despising him and, like Soomin said, also satisfying. He’s got a perfect mix of boyish and manly features with his doe eyes and chiseled jaw; the aura of confidence and nonchalance perhaps add to that as well. It also doesn’t help that he has a really good physique, something you’d seen on his first day on the job and one you’d denied affected you. You’d gotten used to it somehow. Hard as it was to suppress those thoughts every time you fixed his tie or watched him walk about his penthouse in his gym clothes, you managed. You’ve always been professional, and you’ve always reminded yourself to not let it affect you.

But tonight, it’s just hard not to, especially with the way his biceps are popping out of those short sleeves; and if the shirt were an inch tighter, you’d probably be able to trace his toned chest and abs as well. He’s cut his hair, too, slick and pushed back as if he's starring in some western rockstar film.

“Good…” you manage to say after what seemed like minutes. “The outfit looks good on you, sir. It’s new and fresh, not like the usual formal attire that screams ‘businessman who only wants profits.’ This is posh and stylish. It makes you look more approachable.”

“This is what would make me look approachable?” He asks incredulously.

“Actually, a smile would,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. “But this works, too. It fits with the theme.”

“That’s what Tae said, too,” Jungkook sighs. “He insisted that at least for these Arts Center-related events, I should dress a little more boldly and more interesting, things I definitely am not but, well, I couldn’t counter him when he said that my usual prints and styles make me look like I’m just going to a meeting or some business conference.”

“And he’s not wrong,” you point out, walking closer to him. “You don’t need anything eccentric, just something exciting. This is simple yet sophisticated.”

“Have you seen the coat?” He asks, gesturing to the rack when you say no.

“Oh. There’s a corsage,” you say, admiring the matching brown checkered piece.

“An oversized one,” he rolls his eyes.

“It looks pretty.”

“That’s what he said, too.”

“If you don’t like it, why didn’t you tell him during the fitting?”

“I did like it but it’s Tae - he’s good at convincing people that they look good. And I probably thought that, too. But he’s not yet here and he’s gonna be late so right now, all I can think about is that I’ll look ridiculous.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” you say, surprising him. “If what I think matters, then you’d have to take my word for it. The outfit looks good. It captures people’s attention and that’s what you need. You’re just gonna have to follow this up with similar styles but that wouldn’t be a problem. Just carry yourself with confidence. It’s what Mr. Kim would say.”

“I know. He texted that same line to me five times today.”

“He’s your best friend, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure he’s looking out for your best interest.”

“True, but then again, we were forced to become friends when we were young so who knows?”

You laugh at his words. “Is that so?”

“Our fathers are best friends so we spent a lot of time together,” Jungkook shares. “We were all so different and we got on each other’s nerves but I guess that made us closer. I… I wasn’t close to my brother so I just stuck with those who stuck around. It’s a good thing they turned out to be decent people.”

“They’re very kind, I should say.”

“Yeah. It sucks that their kindness didn’t rub off on me,” he says as he holds your gaze.

The tension rises as you look back at him. It’s hard not to fall into his eyes, and you’re thankful for the knock on the door and Yohan’s voice on the other side saying that the interviewer is ready for Jungkook now.

“Five minutes,” you call out, breaking the moment and retrieving his last piece of clothing.

You assist him in wearing his coat and just like reflex, you immediately fix the sleeves and adjust the corsage that isn’t actually that big. You look at him from head to toe and see Taehyung’s vision. There’s something captivating about Jungkook in this fit; it makes him intriguing and someone to look out for. You suppose that was the intention.

“Respectable enough?” He asks worriedly once you meet his eyes.

“Respectable enough,” you affirm, hoping your smile can give him the encouragement he needs.

You open the door and let the first set of crew in. You watch on as they interview and take snapshots while your own team from the marketing department capture what’s happening as well.

Jungkook sits cross-legged on the sofa, his eyes looking out into the distance as he absorbs the questions and thinks of his answers. He gesticulates as he responds, something you noticed him only ever do about topics that seem very important to him. He’s done it during meetings with the team and with Yoongi, and you suppose there’s that level of honesty that he shows then. His responses are thoughtful and profound, as the questions revolve around the type of art pieces to be displayed, how culture can be celebrated and respected, and what the public can look forward to once the Center is open to everyone.

The next interviewer starts off with the practical questions before moving to the technicalities of the design and structure such as the materials used, the techniques utilized in renovating such a massive complex, and how the Center itself represents art and culture. This is when Jungkook fully relaxes. You see it in his body language, in the softness of his expressions, and in the mellow tone of his voice as he discusses in terms you don’t fully understand but somehow still make you feel like you know exactly what he’s talking about.

It’s different seeing him in this way. Your team vetted these interviewers and publications and they seem sincere about their articles and so you know they aren’t there to judge; Jungkook knows they aren’t there to scrutinize him. He’s not there to impress them or even to sell the idea; he just wants to share it, to make it known, to narrate the process of this project that may still be in its very early stages but which has lived in his mind for years.

He may not always be good with words but you can tell that he finds them when the ideas are clear to him. He’s able to articulate what he sees in his mind and there’s something captivating about that. There’s a lot you can learn from him, you think, and if what you develop after having stayed this long is even just a fraction of his creativity, then you’d feel accomplished.

You can tell even more now how important this is to him, especially when he emphasizes the individual’s need and desire for connection and how he wants the Center to be a hub for that, or perhaps its creator. You wonder if he knows so much about it, or if, like you, it’s something he also constantly seeks.

You’re so focused on taking him all in that you don’t notice that you’ve been staring. Your eyes fall on his fingers, waving about as he draws imaginary pictures; they land on his lips, pink and dry as they utter words that are perhaps the most he’s said, and suddenly, his voice is the most comforting it’s ever sounded to you. You look upwards and that’s when you notice it - his eyes are on you just as yours are on him yet he continues talking, and you hold onto it for a few seconds before you feel the heat reach your cheeks. It feels like a burn and you snap out of the spell-like feeling you were caught in as you turn away now and try to catch your breath.

You hadn’t meant to stare but you were drawn to him at that moment, and as he talked about how the designs reflect the tangibility yet elusiveness of human connection, you found yourself drowning in his words and in the way he said them. He’d caught you before you could look away, and you decide that the only way to go about it is to pretend it didn’t happen.

And that’s what you do, as you remain on your spot with your eyes scanning the room, no longer focused on him.

The interview ends right as Chin-sun enters to say that some guests have arrived. You instruct her to entertain them first with Manager Lee as you wrap up in here and it’s not long after when you’re left with Jungkook once again.

“Was that good?” He asks, his gaze on you as you look elsewhere.

“It was. You seemed more relaxed,” you state, unnecessarily fixing the couch to distract yourself. “That’s a good way to start the evening, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure the guests would enjoy speaking with you tonight.”

“That’s what I hope,” he replies. “I’ll need you close to me to keep track of scheduled meetings or any invitations. I’d also like them to be familiar with you as my assistant so they know who to reach out to in case I’m not available.”

“Of course, sir,” you say, turning around to face him again, suddenly feeling nervous about the intensity of his look. “I’ll take note of all those.”

He nods then exits the room and you follow. You trail him as he starts to greet the guests one by one.

There are heads of private foundations and curators. There are creative directors from entertainment agencies and some art enthusiasts. There are artists and authors and poets, all of whom are intrigued and seemingly excited about what’s in store.

Jungkook heads to the front after being introduced by Manager Lee and takes his time to introduce the project, utilizing the panels and all of the interiors’ walls to showcase the design virtually. He presents his plans and the role of artists, creatives, creators, and consumers. It’s a half hour speech that ends, followed by a light sit-down dinner that Jungkook takes advantage of to engage with the guests.

He first greets the deputy minister of the arts and culture ministry and then Mr. Saito, who’d likewise brought some of his artist friends from Japan.

You then follow Jungkook around as instructed, taking notes on your phone in between to list all the upcoming meetings and other activities scheduled on the spot. You’ve somehow developed this skill with Hoseok but it still doesn’t get any easier. The fact that so many of them want to touch base with Jungkook after his pitch says a lot about how well he did and how much it resonated with the people he wanted to connect with.

Based on your notes, you can already tell it’s gonna be incredibly busy moving forward, and the thought suddenly makes your head hurt. But you push through, knowing there are more people to meet with, even with Chin-sun and Manager Lee entertaining half of them.

Jungkook takes the stage again to introduce some of the artists whose works will be displayed in the Arts Center, and he gives them time to talk about their pieces and what drew them into the project. The company head who’s been contracted to create the products for the souvenir shop also speaks, and as they share, you feel the excitement heighten. The opening is still a long time from now but things seem so clear and so certain, and you know that was because of Jungkook - because he demands the same level of excellence he practices from others, because he’s committed to his vision and he makes sure to see it through.

More engagement takes place, and your only breather is when Jungkook decides to talk to his father and then Hoseok but after that, you’re back to following him around and running out of calling cards for people to keep and call you in the future.

The last of the remaining guests finally leave at 10PM. You look around and the art pieces are being carefully wrapped for transport. The panels remain but Do-hyun and Yohan will be returning in the morning to pack everything up. Slowly, you start to feel the soreness creep in and the headache intensify but you shake all the pain off. There are two more days left for the week and you just have to power through them to survive.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Chin-sun asks as she readies to leave.

“I live on the other side of the city from you. From all of you,” you remind them. It’s really the only reason why you don’t hitch a ride with them, especially considering that they have families and pets they go home to. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“What about Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, surprising you because you thought he’d been on the phone. “Can’t he drive you?”

“He left an hour ago, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “He has that early morning flight to Jeju tomorrow.”

“Mr. Ri can drive you home after he drops me off,” Jungkook says. “It’s too late in the night and it might be hard for you to get a cab.”

“Okay, sir. Thank you,” you mumble, waving everybody goodbye as you follow him towards the car.

You get inside and find him sitting in the backseat, his coat removed and his head rolled back. You can tell all the socializing drained his energy again, and you’d hate to remind him that there’s a Property Expo next week that his father assigned him to attend, as well as a Partners’ Fellowship Dinner where he has to deliver another speech. You decide to do so in the morning instead and let the soft sounds of the radio soothe your mind.

“I think tonight was a success,” he mutters, prompting you to turn towards him. “Everyone I spoke to seemed excited.”

“They were,” you affirm. “They wouldn’t be scheduling meetings with you if they weren’t.”

“That’s true,” he hums. “That’s one major event down and several more to go.”

“I hope the team was able to show you how well we work together, Mr. Jeon. And that like me, they’re all on your side.”

Jungkook lets your words settle. He agrees. The team was like a well-oiled machine. Each member knew their roles and performed their tasks excellently. And there was you, of course, handling every one of his instructions and requests with grace. You looked really beautiful doing it, too, and he doesn’t know if he wants to thank or curse Taehyung for designing another dress that makes you stand out from the crowd because that’s what happened tonight - everywhere Jungkook looked, it seemed like all he could see was you.

He shakes away the thought, knowing that constantly acknowledging his attraction towards you would just make things harder for him the way that denying it would, and while he doesn’t have a solution for that either, he supposes that not acknowledging it at all would be the best option.

So he focuses on the team instead, and he feels comforted to know that they worked hard because they knew how much tonight mattered to him, as Do-hyun expressed earlier.

“I’m glad they are,” he finally replies. “I… I still don’t think I’m their favorite person but as long as they don’t despise me anymore, then I’m satisfied with that.”

“They don’t,” you counter, although even you’d know that’s a half-lie.

“They do. Or did, at least,” he laughs dryly. “It’s easy to stay unnoticed outside of the team’s office, you know?”

The tinge of sadness in his eyes confirms what you’re thinking - he’s heard some of the team conversations about him. And while you’d argue that they’re not vile or anything close to that, you also know that talking about him not smiling or not expressing his gratitude are things you shouldn’t be saying behind his back. Even if they’re true.

“I”m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon. We–”

“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he interjects. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t given you reasons to feel that way. You all did go from Hoseok to me and that’s quite the downgrade in terms of camaraderie and stuff.”

“We still didn’t have the right to say those things. And no, I’m not agreeing that you’re a downgrade,” you clarify. “Like you said, you and your cousin are very different.”

“I did. And that’s why I’m not surprised, is all I’m saying. But despite all that, the team did amazing tonight. Not like I’d expect they wouldn’t because they prefer someone more joyful or expressive, but it… it was also nice to see them enjoying themselves. I hope you did, too.”

“It was a memorable experience, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “It’s something new. The previous projects and events we handled were either residential or commercial in nature and our creativity wasn’t pushed as far as the Arts Center is doing. And we all appreciate that, even if we may not show it.”

“That’s good. At least there’s still something that you’re all getting out of this.”

There’s a sadness in his voice that you’re hearing for the first time. You don’t know what about tonight that’s making him vulnerable and honest with you. Perhaps it’s all the talk about human connection that he seems to struggle with, and maybe he’s realizing now that even with the team performing as well as they are, there’s still something lacking in soul and emotion that he thinks is because of him.

Whatever it is, you hope that he doesn’t let it bring him down too much. Working closely with him, you’ve come to see more of him despite his efforts to keep those layers unpeeled and you’ve come to understand him a little more. You’ve forgiven him in the process, too. The team is still adjusting and you know it’s your job to bridge that gap. You’ll just have to figure out how.

You let the silence end the conversation, not knowing what else you can say to comfort him at this moment. But you try though, as the car stops in front of his building and you call his name right before he closes the door.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking curiously at you.

You almost forget what you’re about to say as he’s bent forward, his arm propped on the car roof, the surrounding lights highlighting the features of his face.

“You did great tonight, too. And I learned a lot from you. Thank you for guiding us, sir.”

He’s left speechless, as he holds your gaze for a moment before nodding and closing the door. Mr. Ri drives away and you look back to see Jungkook walk slowly towards the building entrance, briefly looking your way before disappearing inside.

You arrive at the office the next morning at 9AM with a splitting headache, your body dragging itself towards your chair as you try to maintain balance and get yourself together. Jungkook had messaged late last night that he was going to have a breakfast meeting with his father so you could go straight to work, and given last night’s late finish, you could come at a later time as well.

That gave you another two hours of sleep, which you were thankful for considering the terrible state you were in when you woke up. Your body felt sore and the dryness of your throat signaled that you’re about to get sick - it was just a matter of when it was going to fully kick in. It’s how your body reacts to stress, a pattern you noticed since you started working in the company. It’s usually after succeeding weeks of late nights and big events when you give in - the headaches start then the sore throat; not long after, the fever hits and you’d have to spend days just doing nothing until you’ve expelled the exhaustion away.

On rare occasions, your mother or friends come, knowing you’d be too sick to make yourself some food. But they don’t always have that luxury. They have their own lives, too, lives that they just happen to have far away from you. But it’s why it mattered that you gave Jungkook that noodle soup when he was unwell. You know what it’s like to be sick and hungry and completely helpless, and you had a feeling that just like yourself, he’d deal with it on his own. You’ll probably have to stock up on food tonight to get you through the next few days; you just hope you haven’t completely fallen apart by then.

You take your medicines and try to focus on your tasks for this morning, scheduling meetings and screening photos from last night to be used for marketing purposes. Needing some tea, you head to the pantry and briefly check in with the team before heading back. You see that Jungkook has just arrived, as he accompanied his father to one of their project sites after their meeting. He calls you over and asks if Do-hyun and Yohan have come back from fixing things at last night’s venue.

“Yes, sir, they just got here,” you reply. “Everything’s been stored properly and Chin-sun’s working on the payments already.”

“Good,” Jungkook responds. “It’s lunchtime though, so you should all grab a meal. There’s a French restaurant that just opened a block from here. I heard it’s got great reviews, so take the team there and have them order anything they want. You can just use your card to pay but it’s under the office’s budget.”

“Okay, sir. Uhm, that sounds great,” you manage to say, excitement filling you because you spent the other night watching review videos of that restaurant on YouTube and immediately told Jimin and Soomin that you’ll be eating there when they visit you the next time. “What about you though? Aren’t you joining us?”

“I… Well…”

“You don’t have any other scheduled meeting other than the one we’ll have as a team at 2:30.”

“I don’t have to go,” he answers. “You all worked hard and deserve to enjoy yourselves and I don’t think that’ll happen if I’m around. We can all debrief during the meeting but lunch is your time to get together and bond as a group.”

“You’re part of that group, too, Mr. Jeon. You are our boss,” you counter.

“Exactly.”

“But Mr. Ju–” you stop, not wanting to draw another comparison, which you said you’ll stop doing.

“I know. Hoseok would join you for lunch or dinner and the team enjoyed his presence,” Jungkook states. “I don’t think that’s the case with me. This isn’t me putting myself down but… you know that I don’t really… do things like that. I’m still learning that part of the role and I don’t want to spoil their fun.”

“You can’t really speak for the team though,” you point out.

“Well, you represent them to me. Am I wrong to assume all that?”

“No, but I think it would be a good opportunity to prove to them otherwise,” you advise.

Jungkook sighs, knowing you’ve got a point. But he insists, claiming that he’s still figuring out the team and how to relate with them.

“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you concede. “How about your lunch?”

“I’ll manage. You can all go ahead so you can get back on time.”

“We will. Thank you. I already know they’re going to enjoy it.”

The team is ecstatic when you tell them about lunch plans. They also only wonder about Jungkook’s presence once they’ve ordered and perhaps they’re still figuring him out, too. Much of their engagement with Jungkook is through meetings, as none of them, save for Manager Lee, feel comfortable or even free enough to just approach him. They also don’t know much about his interests or his quirks, and that puts you in the same boat as them.

You said once that you’re not sure if you’ve gotten used to him already. Maybe slowly you are, as you look around and wish that he was here to experience this, too. Somehow you just think he’d love the duck confit dish that you eventually order for yourself. Maybe you can let him know, and he can order it on his own time.

Lunch ends with everyone on a high from the delicious meal. Even you forget how terrible you’re actually feeling and let the laughs and scrumptious food compensate for the fatigue.

You get back to the office and head to Jungkook as the rest of the team prepares the conference room for the meeting. You see a half-eaten sandwich on his desk and hate to think that it’s all he had while you enjoyed a fancy lunch that he ordered you all to have. He seems to pick up your thoughts as your eyes flit from him to his food and he affirms you that he’s not that hungry, given the heavy breakfast he had this morning.

“How was lunch?” He asks.

“It was great. The food was really good. I had the duck confit that I think you’ll like and… uh, they were asking where you were.”

“They were?”

“Yeah,” you respond. “They were wondering why you didn’t join us.”

“What did you say?”

“That you were on a conference call,” you say. You didn’t like that you had to lie to them about it, but you also didn’t want to use that time to talk about Jungkook behind his back again. “Yohan said that it’s understandable; you’re always busy and he doubts you get a break while you’re here.”

“Oh. Well, he’s not wrong.”

“We had a good time though, and I’m sure they’ll tell you later but thank you. It’s nice seeing the team enjoy themselves. I wish you could see it, too.”

“Maybe one day,” he says sullenly, standing up right after to head to the meeting with you.

The room quiets down when you both arrive and Jungkook feels once more the shift in their disposition once he joins them. He can’t fault them for it knowing that’s because of him, but as time passes and the more he talks about the value of human connections - which the Arts Center aims to foster - the more he starts to think of exactly what he’s missing by keeping himself too far a distance from everyone else around him.

His father tries, he can tell. Most of their breakfast or lunch or dinner meetings aren’t actually meetings, and he supposes it’s just his old man’s way of spending time with him by disguising it as something work-related, knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t be into it if it wasn’t. His mother asks him over to their house on some weekends for lunch, her own way of reconnecting with him after years of being apart, but even with that, Jungkook just gives the bare minimum.

He doesn’t not like them; he just stopped being close to them at some point and he didn’t really care to mend it as he grew older. The women he sleeps with don’t count since he doesn’t even really talk to them, and other than Taehyung and Seokjin, and occasionally Yoongi, who keep up with his attitude, there really isn’t anyone else whom he thinks enjoys his presence enough to want to have him around.

He doesn’t know about you though, but he makes an educated guess and thinks there’s not much of him you’d miss just like anyone, and while the thought stings a bit, it’s one he tries to live with.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee greets and implores the others to do the same. “Thank you again for lunch. It was really delicious and pretty fancy. I wish I’d worn a prettier tie than the one I have right now.”

“Your tie looks fine, Manager Lee,” Jungkook replies.

“Ms. Cho said you were busy, that's why you weren’t there,” Do-hyun boldly says. “Hopefully next time you can join us. I mean, not to assume you’ll treat us again, although that would be nice, but–”

“Do-hyun just wanted to say thank you,” Chin-sun butts in. “And that we understand you have so many things going on, Mr. Jeon, so hopefully, when you have time in the future, you can join us for a meal, too.”

“That, uh, that would be fine, yes,” he mumbles, taking his seat and avoiding looking at everyone except you. “Let’s start the meeting.”

You’re there for over two hours, rehashing the entire process, given that it’s the first event out of many that the team organized. Jungkook is generous in complimenting everyone, including you, and he gives updates on the interest generated and all the artists he’ll be meeting in their respective studios as a result.

The Ministry of Culture minister likewise pledged support, promising a linkage with the international media festival organizers like Jungkook had hoped. You’ve all accomplished so much in so little time, but the rest of the timeline shows that there’s still so much ground to cover. You plan the next steps and then spend half an hour talking about the other small projects that the VP’s office is managing before Jungkook adjourns the meeting and orders you all to head home to get some rest while he stays behind to work some more.

You follow him this time, trying your best to be stable as you take the bus home. You manage to buy some beef bone soup on the way for dinner, and once that’s all finished and you take a long hot shower to hopefully get rid of the stress in your body, you plop down on your bed and fall asleep with no warning at all.

You wake up in the middle of the night, your clogged nose keeping you from breathing. With puffy eyes, you search for your eucalyptus inhaler and take your medicine before going back to bed and hoping that when you wake up, you’ll feel less terrible than you do right now.

But you don’t, as you wake up to your alarm not long after and feel even worse. Your body is sore, your head feels heavy, and it’s a struggle to even turn to your side to try to pull yourself off the bed. Knowing there’s no way you’ll manage today, you call Mr. Ri and inform him that you’re unwell and can’t make it to work.

“I can’t even type nor talk properly right now,” you tell him. “Can you–”

“I’ll tell Jungkook, don’t worry,” he assures you. “And just to remind you, you’re sick, okay? So stay in bed, don’t do chores or anything, and don’t think about work for even a second. You hear me? And update me on how you are.”

“Yes,” you cough out. “Thank you.”

You lie underneath the covers and hope to the heavens that more sleep would make you feel a bit of relief and it does, given that when your phone rings five hours later, you don’t feel like your head is splitting apart.

“Good, you’re awake,” Mr. Ri says on the other end after you greet him. “Can you open your door?”

“Okay, just give me a few minutes. I’m exceptionally slow this morning.”

Mr. Ri laughs but tells you to take your time. You put on a hoodie over your gray sweatpants and briefly wash your face before opening the door.

“Work’s got to you, huh?” He asks worriedly as he stands in front of you. “Is it bad enough to warrant a visit to the hospital? I can drive you there.”

“I’ll manage,” you mumble. “But what are you doing here, Mr. Ri? Mr. Jeon has a meeting in an hour.”

“I know. But he wanted me to give you this.”

The older man initially hands you a large paper bag but decides to just place it on your table given your weak state. He removes the containers of chicken noodle soup, rice porridge, and soybean sprout soup, boxes of soft bread, and a small jar of yuja marmalade for tea.

“What–”

“Your meals for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about preparing them,” Mr. Ri says. “Jungkook wants you to focus on resting. He wants you to take Monday off, too.”

You look at him and suddenly feel like crying. You knew that waking up, you’d be worrying about what to eat, given that you barely have ingredients to work with. You also don’t have the energy to make anything, especially something that’d help with your health. Jungkook just relieved you of that, and at a time like today, you feel what it’s like to be cared for. And though you can argue with him using his own words - your health isn’t his responsibility - you won’t pretend that it doesn’t give you comfort knowing that he’d made the effort to buy all this and have them brought to you.

You talk a little bit more before he heads out, and you lead him to the door where you look across the street where the car is parked. Your eyes may be puffy but you don’t miss the silhouette behind that backseat window.

“How is she?” Jungkook asks as Mr. Ri enters the car and slowly drives away.

“She looks like someone who’s been working hard these past months and in need of rest. She says it’s normal but this is probably the worst. These few days off will be good for her.”

“I hope so, too.”

“She’s thankful for the food, Jungkook,” the older man says. “I know she’d probably say you didn’t have to but I could tell it meant a lot to her. She doesn’t always ask for help, you know? It’s good you’re somehow letting her know that she can count on you when she needs you. If this is you making it up to her, you’re on the right path.”

Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, although unsure what it means for him. Is it to compensate? To apologize again? To return the favor because you’d done it first? Is it to let you know that he has your back, too, the way you’ve been showing him that you have his?

He’s alerted by a message, your name on his screen somehow making his heart jump. It’s a text message and not one from the usual messaging app you both use for work purposes because, well, that’s really the only thing you talk about.

[From: EA Cho] Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.

It’s the use of his name. It’s the sincerity in your simple words.

He smiles to himself.

Whatever it means to you, he knows it means another thing to him. He doesn’t want you to feel alone. And that in the coldest nooks of his uncaring heart, he actually does care for you. For this moment, he’ll acknowledge it. For this moment, he’ll let himself feel it. He can only hope you feel it, too.

Series Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @gukssunshine @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink @jvngkooker @stopeatread @craftymoonchaos @alpacaparkaseok @coletaehyung

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x oc #jungkook angst #jungkook series #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #boss jungkook

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dxncingwithastrxnger · 17 days ago

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beautiful, what's your hurry? (Obey Me!)

A/N: Asmo time!! I really like this one, it's so sweet. Also, I'm obsessed with Asmo's bath, I need one :( But I hope you enjoy!!

Like a DUMBASS, I posted this without tagging anything at first 😭😭 That has now been fixed 💀💀

Pairing(s): Asmo x MC

Prompt(s): 5. Asmo

Summary: Holiday-themed bathtime with a much needed massage and some even more needed sweet kisses.

Tag(s): Fluff, flirtations, and a little bit of petting, but not heavy

Word Count: 731

Song Inspiration: Baby, It's Cold Outside, I listened to the Michael Bublé and Idina Menzel version while writing

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

~*~

The mood is perfectly set. Dozens of holiday-themed candles placed and lit all over the stone and marble bathroom, the rest of the lights off. All kinds of pretty Christmas decor make the place feel extra festive and cozy. The soft, sweet aroma of sugar cookies and the earthy scent of pine mixed in the air for a wonderful combination. Bath water at the best temperature for both skin and relaxation. And the perfect centerpiece to bring it all together, the Avatar of Lust and his little lamb, looking more perfect than everything else combined.

Asmo leans back against the side of the tub, MC leaning back against his chest, melting in his arms as he eases the muscles of their shoulders, speaking sweetly to him the whole time.

“You look so pretty, sweetheart. Doesn’t that feel better?”

MC sighs contentedly. “So much better. Thank you, love.” They lean their head back enough to look up at him. “I’ll return the favor sometime soon.”

Asmo beams, kissing the top of their head. “I’ll definitely hold you to that. But tonight is for you. The others stress you out way too much, you know. It’s not good for any part of your physical or mental condition.” He takes a deep breath, a look of frustration crossing his face as he speaks. “You look your best when you’re fully relaxed, just like this. Bonus points when it’s with me.” He says with a wink.

MC giggles. “Well, they do say that family frustrates you more than anyone else.” They say with a shrug.

The demon huffs slightly. “That’s just stupid. But it’s not wrong either. My brothers are living proof of that.” He rolls his eyes at the mention of the other members of the household.

The human reaches up to place one of their hands over his affectionately, smiling. “Maybe so. But right now, it’s just us, with all the time in the world. I don’t want you getting all worked up now.” A pause, and then, “Not in that way, at least.”

Asmo chuckles. “Oh?” He leans forward and nuzzles against their cheek, one of his hands dropping to their waist. “Would you like me to be worked up in a different way, then?”

They turn their head just enough to nip his chin lightly. “Think you could handle me?” They purr playfully.

“Oh, I’ll do more than handle you, sweet one. I’ll devour you.” He rumbles, eyes glowing pink with his own sin. His hand slides down from their waist to their hip, slowly moving inward. His other hand slips out from under theirs and trails down their chest. “Only one chance to back out now.”

MC’s own eyes mirror Asmo’s, their pact mark glowing faintly. “Like that was ever even a thought. Do your worst, Asmodeus.” The taunt in their voice was clear and it worked like a charm.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Black spiked wings unfurl from his back and his pink-tipped horns sprout out from his head of wet hair.

MC turns in his arms to face him fully and reaches up to run the tip of their finger down one of his horns, then moving and doing the same to the side of one of his wings, a look of admiration on their face. “It never gets old, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” They shake their head in disbelief. “Every time I see you like this, it’s just like the very first time. You’re so beautiful.”

Asmo’s face flushes at the compliment in a way it never does when anyone else says the exact same thing. With MC, those words actually mean something. And that’s why no matter how many times he hears it, it’ll always catch him off guard coming from their lips. “I know.” He says softly, quietly. Some might even call it shy.

MC grins, pressing their forehead to his. “I know you do. And that part about you is just as beautiful, too.”

The other can’t help but let out a small, happy squeal as he rushes forward into a kiss, crashing their lips together. He pours his love into them and they do the same in return. Locked in a tight embrace, the both of them stay in the bath long after it’s gone cold, neither of them ever even noticing the change in temperature.

~*~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!! I'd love to hear what your thoughts!! I appreciate y'all so much <3 See you for tomorrow's story!!

~*~

Taglist:

@dutifullyuniversallykingdom

@om-adventcalendar

@the-ancient-fae

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 8 - Breeding

Summary: Your most fertile time of the month hits on a full moon. Your werewolf boyfriend can’t help himself.

Pairing: Wolffe x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, werewolf!Wolffe, mating, breeding, breeding kink, lots of talk of pregnancy, werewolf sex, scratching, licking, knotting, graphic description of a werewolf transformation, talk of pregnancy, could potentially be interpreted as dubcon even though they are in an established consenting relationship.

A/N: I think this is easily one of my favorites of all of the fics this month. Love some good werewolf smut.

MASTERLIST

You lean against Wolffe as you relax on the couch, attempting to watch the movie playing on the screen. It’s hard with his hands squeezing and trailing your body. It’s the full moon tonight, which means he’s a bit...more than usual.

He nuzzles against your neck, forcing your head to the side so he can sniff at the skin. A low growl rumbles through his chest, his tongue darting out to lap at the side of your neck.

“Babe,” You whine, trying to push him away, but his grip tightens around you. “That tickles.”

“Smell so good.” He growls, nipping at your skin. “Good enough to eat.”

“Wolffe!” You gasp as he nibbles on your throat, hands holding you so tight it’s almost painful.

He maneuvers you onto your back on the couch, slotting his body between your thighs as he sniffs at you, lips dragging along your skin. He ruts against you, hard cock dragging across your pelvis as he laps at your throat.

“Wolffe, what’s gotten into you?” You ask with a laugh. This wasn’t typical behavior during the full moon. He got touchy and needy sometimes, but never this...desperate.

“Need to breed you.” He growls, pulling away from your throat to stare down at you. One eye milky white, the other glowing yellow.

Your breath catches in your throat. He lets out a roar rearing back away from you. Your heart is pounding in your chest as he growls, body twisting and writhing as he begins to transform. You slide off the couch onto the floor, knowing you should run, you should barricade yourself somewhere but you can’t bring yourself to move. He’s never transformed in front of you before, though you have seen him in his wolf form.

His body contorts as his bones begin to snap, rearranging themselves. His clothes stretch until they rip, his body growing larger, his muscles becoming more defined. His face elongates, taking the shape of a muzzle as silver hair begins to sprout across his body. His fingers elongate into sharp claws, his groans dying off into whimpers as he fully transforms.

Not a man, but not quite a wolf either.

You stay still, trying to calm your racing heart and rapid breaths. You’re not sure if he’s even going to remember you when he finally notices you. If you run, you know it’ll be the end no matter what. You’ll trigger his predator instincts, and there’s no way you can outrun him, not even to the closest door that might be able to hold him at bay.

“Wolffe?” You whisper, stomach churning anxiously.

His head snaps towards you, lips lifting in a snarl, revealing sharp teeth that could tear your throat out easily. His nose wiggles as he sniffs the air, another low growl leaving him. It sends shivers down your spine, goosebumps erupting on your skin. He shifts his body to face you, and you take notice of the large, red appendage dangling between his legs.

Your eyes widen, breath catching in your throat. That hadn’t been there when you saw him in his werewolf form before.

You fight the urge to back away as he stalks towards you on four paws, looking very much like a wolf. He crawls over you, pausing to shove his nose into your lower abdomen. You can feel his snuffling breaths, his exhales warm through the thin fabric of your shirt. He lifts his head to look at you, licking his lips.

Something dawns on you then. He had said you smell good, that he wants to breed you. Your last period was two weeks ago.

You’re ovulating.

He crawls closer over you, until you’re face to face. He continues to press forward, forcing you back until you’re laying on the floor under his hulking form. He leans down, his cold, wet nose pressing into your neck. His breath tickles as he sniffs you, your heart still thumping in your chest. He can probably hear it, hell he can probably smell the nerves, the fear.

Something warm and wet touches your skin, dragging along the length of your neck. It’s his tongue, much longer and thicker in this form. You hold your breath as he licks you from shoulder to jaw, a quiet rumbling sounding in his chest. One of his clawed hands lifts and for a horrifying moment you think he’s going to claw you to death, but instead his fingers wrap around the neck of your shirt before he pulls it off you, ripping the fabric into shreds.

You’ve gone without a bra as you usually do, your nipples pebbling in the cool air. His tongue travels down your neck to your chest, dragging along the skin. It’s slightly rough, a strange sensation on your sensitive body. You gasp as his tongue drags over your nipple, flicking against the sensitive bud. Your panties are starting to get damp, another rumble vibrating through his chest.

He can likely smell that too.

His clawed hands make quick work of your pants and underwear too, shredding them to pieces. He forces his way between your thighs, muzzle pressing right up against your pussy. His breaths are hot against the dampness, teeth grazing your folds as he smells you. It’s erotic really, the idea of a transformed werewolf between your thighs. You’ve had him in his human form more times than you can count during your relationship.

But never like this.

You can’t help but wonder if he’ll even remember it.

The long, rough tongue drags through your folds, a harsh gasp being torn from your lips. Your head snaps up, staring down at him between your legs. His ears twitch, tickling your knees. He stares back at you, a very human look in his eyes. For a moment you can believe Wolffe has control, that it really is him looking at you behind those eyes.

You let out a startled scream as he pounces on you, clawed fingers sinking into your skin as he flips you over onto your stomach. Your skin burns where his claws punctured your hips, but he doesn’t pay your discomfort any mind. He pulls your back end up so you’re on your knees, presenting yourself to him.

Your face heats as you’re exposed to him, but you can’t deny the arousal dripping down your thighs. It’s thrilling, the thought of being taken by Wolffe in his wolf form. He was always a bit animalistic in bed, even during your softest moments. You never imagined you’d get a chance to do this.

You feel the thick head of his cock push against your folds, your legs parting just slightly to try and give him more room. It burns as he begins to push into you, the stretch almost too much. He’s so much bigger in this form, almost double the thickness and length.

You whimper as he presses further in, cheek pressed against the wood floor. A clawed hand plants itself by your head, his body folding over yours as he presses his cock inside you. You breathe deeply attempting to relax as he forces his way in, stretching you open.

A breathy moan is pulled from your lips as he seats himself inside you, his tip bumping your cervix. Soft fur tickles your skin from where you’re pressed together, a deep rumbling growl sounding in his chest. He draws his hips back before snapping them into yours, jolting your body from the force of his thrust. Your eyes roll back as he stretches you, hitting every possible spot inside you with his huge cock.

He pulls back before snapping his hips against you once more, growling lowly as he continues to move slowly. You gasp with each thrust, sweat sticking your skin against the floor. He’s so big, nearly splitting you open with each thrust into your pussy.

He begins to move faster, dragging his hips against your ass as he thrusts deeply. Your lips part, moans and whimpers leaving you as he brushes against that spot with every thrust. You clamp around him, legs threatening to give out as he drags the first orgasm from you. He lets out a growl, clawed fingers dragging along your side as you spasm around him.

He doesn’t slow his thrusts, pushing you past the point of overstimulation. You’re beginning to ache from the stretch, from the pounding you’re taking as he ruts into you. You’re going to have a hell of a time walking tomorrow.

His furry chest presses into your back as his thrusts get deeper, his growls rumbling in your ear. Drool drips onto your shoulder, sliding across your skin as he pants and growls. You’re cumming again, legs nearly giving out as fluid splashes onto the hardwood floor. Wolffe lets out a howl, something pushing against your entrance.

You let out a cry as the base of his cock begins to swell, stretching your opening even further than it already was. You’re certain something is going to tear, something is going to give as he stretches you even more. It hurts, but the pain drags another orgasm from you, your vision almost going dark for a moment.

You come back as something spurts against your cervix, his hot seed filling you. It’s almost too much as he continues to cum, the pressure almost overwhelming. You’re certain if you could move, you’d find a bulge in your stomach from him.

He nuzzles against your shoulder, lapping at the skin as you shake and shudder under him. You’re so stretched and full, your body feeling like it’s taken a beating from him. He lets out a quiet sound, wrapping an arm around your stomach before you’re flipped easily onto your side.

His fur is soft as he tucks you against his chest, curling his body around you as you stay locked together. You wonder if it will actually work, if in a couple weeks you’ll find you are pregnant, that he was successful. You reach a hand down, sliding over the bulge in your lower abdomen. Perhaps in a few weeks, there will be a bump there for another reason.

Perhaps in a couple weeks you’ll be carrying his pups.

Ragu list:

@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @commanderblood @ghostperson69 @captain_rexs_cyare

#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #x reader #clone thirsting #kinktober 2023

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reotacchii · 2 years ago

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Hi saw that your request was open can you please do a platonic Blade from hsr when reader is his little sister/brother, and Blade just loves them to death. I can see an overprotective Blade with his younger sibling.

Dream Lantern

・─ pairings : Blade x GN!reader

・─ synopsis : Headcanons of Blade and little siblings + fluff !!

・─ a/n : I'm truly grateful each day with all of wholesome request, thank you so much dear requester and hope you'll enjoy this one 💗! I'm not sure with how Blade would act since I just got to Luofu a day ago, and since we barely got info of his canon age.. I'll give you two separate headcanons with different range of age gap.

" A day of your arrival on this world, a bliss of happiness draw across a boy face. As soon as the boy saw your face, that when he knew he'll caring for you "

6-8 years old gap :

★ Everything you need is an instant obligation for Blade. He would literally treat you like a literal royalty to put in a sense, that show how much he cares and love for you.

★ Tired of walking? He'll piggyback you. Feeling hungry? He got you snack on his pocket (I rather believe he always bring your fav snacks anywhere he goes so in any case you're hungry, he could just summon it out of his pocket).

★ You are his only siblings, he'll do anything to reserve the world just for you.

★ Not even a thought ever came across his mind that you are a bothersome, he always find your company the most comforting, a relief even.

★ Whenever he came back from his mission, you'll makes sure to greet him with a hug (he almost got into a breakdown because you are so precious to him).

★ Your body are so small compare to his, but it's a good thing because you can literally clinging onto his leg.

★ Kafka also loves to hanging out with you, she even give you a beginner gunmanship lesson because you are Blade little siblings (Blade relatives privilege)

★ But oh boy.. Do Blade even agree to it? Heck he's a literal worrysome; what if you gotten hurt? You are still a child, Kafka shouldnt taught you that. Battle just didnt suited you, he'll rather have his hand dirty than seeing you involved in one.

★ But most of his thought are how much he wanted to spend times with you. Seeing someone else taking away your time to hangout with others does saddened him a bit.

★ "Put yourself to rest, Kafka. I will be the one to taught y/n the swordmanship"

★ "What a sudden outburst.. Just say you wanted to play with your little siblings~"

★ The age gap may not huge, but he always view and treat you as a baby

★ His cold death stare replied to Kafka remarks, but eventually we all know you'll both goes to play around together.

2-3 years age gap

★ The first time you joined Stellaron Hunter, he kinda opposed to your decision, but soon he'll accept it once he found out every mission will be including you involved in.

★ Every mission going so fun with you, it went very well that both of you receive a nickname as "The Hunter Siblings"; It just shows how powerful both of your dynamic are.

★ Though, he knows well you can fight well, yet he can be overprotective at a times.

★ You can be a bit reckless at a times, so it's his responsibility to get in charge if anything worst happens.

★ Also, he can't stand anyone near around you, even he cannot trust how the Stellaron Hunter member would acts around you. It's kind of like a delusion sprout that growing in his head and all he can think about is the worst scenarios.

★ To put much surprises for both Kafka and Silver Wolf is that,

★ He tend to do this to find your usual reaction of either embarrassed or slight annoyance. And what's annoying to you, its that Blade doesnt know a good timing to pull his jokes.

★ Blade actually pull a lot of jokes so much around you (mostly sass which you'll get used to it).

★ It became a habit between both of you to pull a playful tease and jokes around.

★ Even Kafka and Silver Wolf admitted to find it amusing due to your reaction on getting teased..

★ But without you notice, Blade does this a lot knowing you can be so nervous before the battle. He want to lighten up your mood before doing the job.

★ "What? The baby need to put their diaper on? If not, you are going to piss yourself in a battle" he sarcastically remarked, you swear you could hear his low chuckles; and the worst is he's doing it infront Kafka and all you can do is to hold yourself together.

★ "NOT INFRONT OF- DUMB BROTHER, I WILL KILL YOU!"

#🍰reo do write #honkai starrail fanfic #hsr imagines #honkai starrail #hsr #honkai star rail #x reader #honkai fanfic #fanfic #blade x you #blade x reader #blade hsr #blade hsr x reader #blade honkai #hsr headcanons #hsr fanfic #star rail #star rail imagines

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eyra · 1 year ago

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parsnip soup recipe book 🥄

as promised, here's a list of (most of) the recipes from the oldest recipe for parsnip soup. some of the dishes in the story have slight variances from the recipes below - purely just based on what ingredients I felt like adding or tweaking as I was writing - but they're not far off. enjoy! x

chapter 1: cheese and pickle sandwich, uneaten I must stress to the uninitiated that the pickle in question is of course Branston pickle. serve with mature cheddar and granary bread.

chapter 2: two black coffees, to go the deli in the story is a real deli that actually exists and they serve Ozone coffee.

chapter 3: sausage & leek pasta with chilli this is a Julius Roberts one - the video that started it all.

chapter 4: wild mushroom gnocchi would also work just fine with pasta.

chapter 5: spiced apple tea this was an amalgamation of a few different recipes, but this one and this one both look good. I imagine this would also be delightful with a splash of something like amaretto.

chapter 6: cheese & curried onion toastie Julius Roberts again. I haven't tried this yet but god I want to.

chapter 7: turkey, all the trimmings the Christmas table recipes were all just drawn from stuff I usually eat at Christmas, but you can't go wrong with Nigella for the turkey and these sprouts and these sprouts both look good to me.

chapter 8: buttered toast, uneaten there are few greater pleasures in life than a bit of cheap white bread, toasted, with good butter.

chapter 9: parsnip soup obviously the actual recipe is a closely-guarded secret passed down from Remus's great-great-great-grandmother, but the one I've linked above will come pretty close.

🧄🧈🥄🧅🍞

#the oldest recipe for parsnip soup #recipes

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melanieph321 · 11 months ago

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Ruben Dias x Reader - Fake Love Part 8/8

This story will have an Epilogue!!!! 😭

⚠️Warning ⚠️

18+

Reader is a kindergarten teacher. Nothing more nothing less. But following an accident whistle vacation in Dubai she somehow makes her boyfriend believe that she does somthing else for a living, something that earns her way more money than she has. Her boyfriend, Ruben, is just happy to have found someone who understands him so well, someone who doesn't want him for his money since money isn't an issue for neither reader or himself. Or so thinks. Would finding out the truth ruin their newfound relationship? Readers thinks so, and does everything to keep up the lie, although it has some bad people from the middle east looking for her.

Enjoy!

Apperently Ruben and his team were already in London when he called you yesterday. Stevenage was only an hour away by car, so now he was here, asleep in your bed. You watched him when he slept, his chest heaving up and down with his slow breathing. You placed a hand to his naked torso, running it down his washboard abs. Ruben's body stirrded with your motion, but did not awake, or at least he did not open his eyes.

"What time is it?" He grunted, voice deep and heavy in the morning.

"Early." You smiled.

One eye flung open. "Too early to cuddle?"

You bit your lip and shook your head.

Ruben's arms stretched for you across the matress. He pulled you closer, your chest against his chest. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Ruben."

"You look beautiful."

"Don't lie."

He frowned.

"No one looks beautiful in the morning Ruben, well....maybe except for you."

"And you." He tugged you closer, although it was physically impossible. "We're both beautiful people. Life is such a struggle for us."

You giggled, then made the effort to get on top of him. His eyes were fully open now as his hands moved up and down your thighs.

"Good morning."

"You already said that."

"I know." He grinned. "I'm just a messenger, someone else wants you."

You gasped a little as something pocked your back. Looking behind, you saw Ruben's full fledged erection trying to escape his boxers. You turned back to him. "I want you to meet my parents today."

"Um, okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." He nodded, a bit distracted.

You pushed your palms against his chest, sliding backwards until you had his cock between your legs. "You must know that they're just normal people my parents."

"Mhm...sure baby."

You were grinding your hips, moving them slowly against his shaft.

"Normal people, like you and me?" He asked, trying to keep up with what you were telling him. But as you've come to learn through your facetime calls, Ruben was terrible at multitasking when horny.

"No, normal people like me." You mumbled.

Ruben threw his head back, his hands helping guide your hips to rock themselves faster against him. You paused. "Do you want to come like this or inside me?"

He raised his head from the pillow, meeting your eyes. "Inside." His head bobbed up and down. "Definitely inside."

You raised yourself to sit in a crouching position, legs spread for Ruben to see you push your panties aside, revealing how wet you were for him. You sat back down but struggled to have him inside you right away.

"Slowly baby, take it slow."

He was big, big and wide.

"Fuck, you feel so good." His hands went under your shirt, groping your breast. "So fucking good."

You were enjoying yourself, but the focus was to please him, to make him feel good.

"Baby not that fast, I'm gonna come right away."

"I want you to come." You let his cock slide in and out of you with the rocking motion of your hips.

"But baby..." He groaned, a vein visible against his throat. "Baby please, don't..." It was too late. Your motions increased, making Ruben sprout his seed into your womb. Of course, the pill you were taking would take care of that asap.

Ruben flipped you over to lay on your back, regarding you curiously. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make me come so fast?"

You turned to lay on your side, your head resting in your hand. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Ruben swiped his thumb across your cheek, removing a dead eyelash "I wanted both of us to come, together."

You shrugged. "Would've taken us too much time."

He frowned. But you ignored him and got up and out of bed. "I have some work to take care of today. We can go to my parents house when I return, but it's best for you to stay in the apartment in the meantime." God knows if somone spotted him outside. Ruben was sitting on the edge of the bed with the sheets between his legs, when you turned back to look at him.

"Can I ask you something?" He said.

"Sure."

You were going through your closet, searching for an outfit to wear for the day. You were glad that Ruben didn't ask so many questions as to why you had so much of your stuff in "Alicia's apartment."

"Yesterday on the phone..."

You stiffened knowing just where the conversation was going.

"....I told you I loved you, but you didn't say it back?" He looked confused, sad and confused. You left the closet and approached him. "Oh bay, I was just stressed. Of course I love you too." You bent down and kissed him, glad that he was kissing you back with equal amount of passion. His words were spoken against your lips. "Good, now let me make you come."

You squealed as his arms wrapped around you, wrestling you back down against the matress. Ruben stayed on top, pulling down the front of his boxers to reveal how hard he still was for you.

"And I'm gonna take as much time as I want with you, got it?"

You smiled. "Yes sir."

********************************************

You went about your day, quite happy with how it started. Ruben knows that you love him and when you introduce him to your parents later tonight you're also gonna tell him the truth about who you really are. He deserves to know.

"Miss?"

"Yes Simon?"

You peered over your desk to see the little boy, once again, with a pen up his nose.

"It's stuck."

"Of course it is."

You took him to the nurses office, appointing another teacher to guard your class. Upon returning to the classroom you bumped into...

"Y/N, can I talk to you?"

"If you make it quick Byron?"

He looked remorsful, as if...

"I regret the way I ended things last night. I'm sorry."

You sighed, really having nothing personal against Byron. "Apology excepted. I have to get back to my class."

"I'll lend you the money!" He blurred out.

"Really?"

He nodded.

You folded your arms. "What's the catch?"

"No, catch. You seem to really need it and I'm stupid for not realizing that last night. I put you in an even more uncomfortable spot and I'm sorry."

You uncrossed your arms and approached him. "Enough apologies." Byron's cheek blossomed when you pressed your lips against it. "Thank you. This means more than you know."

It meant the world. All was well. You were gonna pay Mr Siddiq back everything of what you owe. And then you would...."

"Whatta hell is going on?"

"Nina?"

It was your boss, the school principal, marching towards the two of you down the hall.

"Where are all the children?"

"What do you mean?" You looked to Byron who peered into one of the classrooms. "They're gone." He said.

"No shit." Nina hissed. "And where is the rest of my faculty?"

An open window revealed commotion in the school yard. You, Byron and Nina rushed out to see what it was all about.

"Alicia?"

It was Alicia, alongside Ruben. The children and some members of the faculty were surrounding him, asking, no begging him to sign anything of their belonging, shoes, backpacks...

"What are you doing here and why did you bring Ruben?" You asked, through clenched teeth. However your expression softened seeing the look of terror in Alicia's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry."

You frowned. "For what?"

"They got em'." She sniffled.

"Got who? Who's got who Alicia?"

"I dunno, the fucking national guard or something. Apparently they raided your parents house in search for you. The local police has brought them in for interrogation."

"W...what?" A lump in your throat. Just then Ruben managed to escape the children. "Y/N, what's going on?" He looked both angry and confused, Alicia must have told him the truth.

"Y/N!" The voice of your boss sparked behind you. "What is all this?" She was looking at Ruben and so did Byron. Ruben who was getting ambushed by the children again.

"I...I can explain."

"There is no time." Alicia said, grabbing your hand and dragging you to her car. Ruben fought himself free and ran after you. "Y/N, can you please tell me what's going on?"

It hurt so much, seeing the confusion in his eyes, the confusion you had caused. "I'm not...." You inhaled. "I'm not who you think I am."

He froze, not quite sure what any of that meant.

"I'm a liar Ruben, a fucking liar. I've lied about everything to you. I'm not rich, I'm a kindergarten teacher.

"But...Portugal." He stuttered.

"Portugal was a lie. Everything you saw me buy it was all a facade, all a game to impress you. I've been borrowing money from a man named Muhammed Siddiq, money I can't pay back. And now I've got to the police and turn myself in."

Alicia continued to drag you towards the car.

"Y/N wait!"

He didn't give up. Ruben just refused to let you go. "You and me? Everything that happened between you and me, was that also a lie?"

You shook your head, knowing there was only one way to end things. "I'm sorry. "

His shoulders fell, finally accepting the betrayal.

"Goodbye Ruben."

You and Alicia drove off. Off to confess your many sins.

The End

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst

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juliancallos · 6 months ago

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"Crybaby" Acrylic gouache on washi with confetti inclusions Approx. 3 7/8" x 5 5/8"

Apparently today is National Mascot Day, so it feels like the perfect time to share my piece for the Fruits & Veggies show, curated by Cassia Lupo and opening June 22nd at Giant Robot Store!

I wanted to create a mascot for abandoned and forgotten veggies in the style of '60s cereal mascots, so meet Crybaby the sprouted onion! 🧅😢

I know it's kind of odd to have such a sad character on such fun paper, but I just love this confetti paper 😅

I had also started working on an additional mascot for bruised/damaged fruit called Bruce Dapple (like bruised apple), a daredevil with a banged up apple helmet and a banana cannon with orange slice wheels, but I decided to just focus on one piece. Should I finish Bruce sometime though? 🤔

It's a bit different from my usual work, but it's always fun to work in this style and create some cute mascots!

#Giant Robot Store #Giant Robot #Fruits & Veggies #onion #gallery show #illustration #painting #sketch

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borsch-yeek · 10 months ago

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(song: men I trust - show me how)

#brawl stars #brawl stars art #brawl stars 8 bit #brawl stars sprout #sprout x 8 bit

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borschitposting · 1 year ago

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Just the two of them

#brawl stars #brawl stars art #8 bit brawl stars #sprout brawl stars #do I need to tag my posts with a sproutbit tag now #or just sproubit #like these are same words but one is without another letter t #NEVERMIND #sprout x 8 bit

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pastel-paramour · 2 years ago

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Beast in the Moonlight

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.6k

Tags/Content Warnings: Atsushi x F!Reader, Were-Tiger!Atsushi, BLOOD, EXTENSIVE INJURY, Biting, Scratching, Inhuman Genitalia (Atsushi), Rut (and by extension, implied breeding, though not specifically mentioned), Dubious Consent (if you squint), Fangs, Claws, Pinning, Oral (Fem!Receiving), Unprotected Sex (no pregnancy), but also fluff!

Seriously guys, he is a were-tiger, doing tiger things with tiger parts. Read at your own discretion. Just know that they love each other very much, and everyone makes it to the end!

Dried blood stuck in the crevices in your skin.

Has anyone seen Atsushi?

Deep red and purple bruises mottled your shoulders, chest and collar bones.

No, I haven’t seen him for about a week? Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him or his lady…

Shining spit slicked off sharp fangs in time with ragged panting above you.

Dazai, go out and find him, he’ll need to be here for this.

Your back bowed away from the floor, mouth agape in a silent wail as another, agonizing orgasm ripped through you.

Do I have to?..

You’d lost count of the days and nights. Atsushi’s punishing thrusts into you now the only thing keeping time.

You vouched for him, he’s your responsibility to manage.

Fine…

Someone had to come looking for you soon…

***

Sunlight came streaming in through your shop windows, blanketing it in glittering gold. You straightened up the blooms in a crystal vase to put into the refrigerator at the front of the shop when you heard the bell on the door ding.

“Oh sorry!” You said, “We’re not quite open yet!” you flicked your sleeve off your wrist and checked the time. It was five minutes past 8. “Well nevermind!” You chuckled, a light, rosy blush dusting your cheeks, “I guess we are!”

You finally turned to look at the guests who’d entered your little shop, and found Dazai, tall and lean, the morning light casting a glow behind him.

“My darling belladonna!” He cheered, sweeping up your hand into a chaste kiss. Your face flushed again. You knew this man was bad news romantically, but he did always know how to make you feel special, “How are you this morning?”

“Oh, I’m-” you trailed off when you noticed that Dazai wasn’t alone. Next to him was a young man you’d never met before, not older than 20, if even that. His clothes were a bit of a patchwork version of a working uniform, and his belt was much, much too long. His hair was a peculiar shade of gray, almost white, and his eyes… Where Dazai was rimmed in the yellow light of the morning, this one’s eyes held it captive.

“W-who’s your friend, ‘Samu?”

Dazai briefly looked perplexed, like he’d forgotten anyone was with him at all until he looked over; “Oh!” He clapped as he righted himself, “How rude of me! This fine young man is the newest member to join the ADA. Say hello, Atsushi!” Dazai clapped him rather harshly on the back, to which he seemed to startle and bend sharply at the waist.

“Good morning, ma’am! My name is Atsushi Nakijima! It’s nice to meet you!”

You were briefly stunned, then your hand flew to your mouth as you tried to contain a giggle. “It’s nice to meet you, Atsushi..” You said before giving your name in turn.

It had been a while since you had a visit from the ADA. Normally it was Naomi and the other girls that stopped by, picking up fresh blooms for the office, very occasionally Kunikida would make a visit personally, picking up a polite arrangement, probably as an apology gift on Dazai’s behalf. Dazai rarely used to stop in until he met you, then it seemed like he went out of his way to visit once or twice when time allowed, always flirting and chatting you up. You didn’t mind. He was always pleasant, if a little forward, but his demeanor always seemed to have a bit of a sad cast, like paper curling at the edges, or a petal just on the right side of wilting.

Atsushi had a similar sad look, only, instead of a flower nearing the end of its life, he was more like a sprout that hadn’t had enough water or sunshine, bowing under its own weight, but given the proper attention…

You misplaced your hand reaching for something across the counter and managed to tip over another vase, spilling water and flowers everywhere. You cringed, curling into yourself, waiting for the crash, but when you un-scrunched your eyes you saw Atsushi knelt on the floor, the distinctly unbroken curves of the vase in his hands, and petals clinging to the silver strands of his hair.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” You clambored to the floor to start picking up the scattered stems when Atsushi held one out to you, a long stem tipped with the playful pink ruffles of a carnation, all his nervous energy dissipated holding that flower out to you, washed away by the rising sun. You completely missed the small smirk curling the edges of Dazai’s lips, as well as the chime of the bell as he slipped out of your store.

***

You went out with Atsushi several times since that day, to markets and coffee shops, your sundresses fluttering in the breeze, wrapping around your legs or lifting in just such a way that Atsushi tried very politely not to notice. You’d hold hands all the way back to his office, even being invited in to say hello to the other members of the ADA before excusing yourself back to your store.

The first time you made love to Atsushi, it was in your apartment. There was no glistering golden light like that first day, but the more characteristic gray skies of Yokohama weren’t quite so oppressive that day. The room was cast in the bluish hues of early morning, and you sat on the floor by your window, sipping your coffee and watching the city wake up.

Atsushi crawled across the floor, between your legs, his eyes still that same shade of molten honey as he leaned in and kissed you. This kiss wasn’t like the sweet pecks he’d leave on your lips at the end of a date, there was something lingering, searching in it, in the way his tongue dipped out to trace the pout of your bottom lip, the indulgent sound of your lips parting and your mingling breath.

Then he did it again, and again, and longer this time as he wound his hand around your waist to pull you close to him. You nimbly untucked his buttons from their buttonholes before skating your nails down his bare chest until you met the waistband of his pants and undid his fly the same way. You slipped your thumbs through his belt loops, pushing him back until he sat against the floor and you tugged the bottoms down.

You traced the outline of his cock through the thin cotton of his boxers, heart leaping into a gallop at the way his breath hitched in his throat, syrupy need dripping into the well between your thighs. You crawled over his body until you were straddled over his hips. He let his own hands wander up your oversized sweatshirt, tucking it up over your breasts so he could palm them, flicking his thumbs over the furled peaks of your nipples, his lip tucked between his teeth as you mewled into his touch.

You reached behind you, untucked him from his boxers, and easily sank yourself down onto his lap with a gasp. One hand flew to your hip with a groan, his legs already shaking with effort to restrain himself. You leaned forward, pushed your chest against him.

“It’s okay, Atsushi…” You whispered against his parted lips before you kissed him again, wanton and needy while you ground your hips down on him. You broke your kiss with a gasp when he started to rock into you, filling and hitting all the best parts of you. You threw your head back, relishing in the feeling of him. His arms wound their way around your waist again, pulling you closer, closer to him so he could breathe in the scent of your skin, taste the salt on it as he licked a stripe up the valley of your cleavage. Your nails raked through his hair, seeking their tangled purchase as you rode him, the cant of his hips rubbing taut circles over your clit.

Your name tumbled from his lips, “I’m gonna-”

“I know…” You breathed, “It’s okay, baby, I’m safe, we’re safe.”

With that, you felt him twitch inside you as he shot thick and hot inside you. The sensation of him fucking you through his release made you wind tighter around him, until the chord in you snapped, and you came down shuddering on his cock until you were both holding each other, still panting with him softening inside you.

***

The seasons came and went, and the gray sleet of the winter was slowly threatening to melt into spring. Your busy season kind of snuck up on you with all the time you were spending with Atsushi, although you noticed he hadn’t quite been himself as of late. When you had finally wrapped up your Valentine’s day in the shop, you untucked a hidden bouquet of your best and brightest blooms and made the short walk down to the ADA offices.

When you walked through the door, however, everyone seemed surprised to see you there.

“Where’s Atsushi?” you asked.

“He isn’t in today, we honestly thought he’d have plans with you?” Tanazaki said.

“I thought we did…” You looked down at the flowers in your arms and chewed the inside of your cheek, the first ache of tears already stinging your eyes, “Well, thanks anyway…” You turned and hurried back out the door, despite several of the detectives rising from their seats after you.

Night had fallen by the time you reached the dorms, stepping over the lazily rippling puddles reflecting the yellow glow of the street lamps.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door snicked open, though only part way. Even so, Atsushi couldn’t hide those liquid gold eyes from you.

“Hey you…” You greeted sadly.

“Hey…” Atsushi replied, still holding the door barely open.

“I got you something…” You held the bouquet in view of the door, trying to hide your dismay that the flowers were already starting to droop; “Can I… come in?”

Atsushi chewed his lip, torn between his own politeness and… something else. Ultimately, as it normally did, the former won out, and the door creaked open the rest of the way. You stepped in, halting just inside the door and shuffling awkwardly.

“Thank you.” Atsushi murmured, taking the flowers you brought to the kitchen and placing them into a jar of water. The flickering fluorescent somehow made the rest of the apartment seem darker, save for the light of the full moon filtering through the window. You stepped out of your shoes with an outstretched hand,

“Atsushi, are you-”

Your words died in your mouth when he flinched away from you.

“Did- did I do something wrong?” “No, it’s just… Now’s not a good time.”

Something sharp gnawed at the inside of your chest. Not a good time? You’d had these plans for weeks.

“Atsushi, can you please just tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, okay?” He snapped. If you looked closely, you could see the light sheen of sweat across his forehead.

“Are you sick? If that’s it, you can tell me!” You reached out a hand again to feel his forehead, only for him to grab your wrist.

“Yes. That’s it. If that is it, will you leave?”

“If that’s it then I want to take care of you! Why’re you being this way?”

“I don’t need you to take care of me. I need you to get out of here!” Atsushi yanked your arm, his grip tightening painfully around your wrist.

“Atsushi!” You ground out, “You’re hurting me!”

In an instant, faster than you could think, your hand snapped out and a sharp smack rang through the darkness.

You could hear a feather fall in the silence that stretched out between you two, your thudding heartbeat the only thing sounding in your ears. You weren’t sure how long the moment was before you spoke,

“Atsushi, I- I’m so sor-“ you yelped when Atsushi crowded you against the counter, face hidden in your neck and his hand smoothing softly over your wrist.

“M’sorry… M’sorry…” he murmured against your neck, setting aloft little flutters in your belly.

“Atsushi..” you breathed, “you’re not the one who-“

Your sentence again died on your lips when his clasped over the curve where your neck met your shoulder. He was so close. So close. So close you could feel him, hard and rutting against your thigh. Confused as you were, the feeling of him wanting, needing you so badly sent a shiver of warmth to the pit of your belly and between your legs. You tangled your hands through silver strands while he sucked on your neck.

“F-fuck… you smell so good…”

Your eyes flicked open at that particularly odd statement, you opened your mouth to say something, but a pained yelp crowded out the words as Atsushi sank his teeth into you. Sharp teeth, followed immediately by a harsh, bristled tongue lapping at the warm blood that had begun to ooze from the bite.

“A-Atsushi?” You stammered. He raised his face to meet yours, and where there were once sweet, sad, golden eyes, there was now the harsh and calculating stare of a predator. His pupils narrowed to little more than slits, and his breath went ragged.

“I’m sorry…” he huffed, before he reached up between you, gripped the fabric of your shirt in his fists and rent it apart like he was tearing tissue paper.

“Atsushi!” You scolded. He was long gone, though, lost in dressing your neck and chest with rough, wet kisses. Goosebumps pricked your flesh the further down your belly he went, and you flushed when he tucked his head under your skirt. He came face to face with your clothed pussy, pressed his face to the quickly moistening fabric and breathed in deeply, exhaling in something between a moan and a growl that had your blush deepening dramatically.

As quickly as he’d done your shirt, he tucked his hands under your skirt, and again the popping sound of seams tearing filled the night air. What followed was nearly enough to make your knees buckle.

A broad, coarse tongue lapped a stripe over your cunt, finishing with a flick over your clit. Your head rolled back;

“Oh fuck, Atsushi!” You found your fingers again twisted in his hair, tighter now than you’d ever dared before, pulling him closer to you. Embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t stop your hips from bucking against and riding his tongue.

“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop…” you panted, unsure if he even heard you, if you even cared. His arms snaked up around your thighs, his fingers pressed dimples into the pliant flesh of your ass. Just as you were about to crest the edge, long crescent claws snicked into your flesh, and Atsushi used his fortified grip on you to pull you along his tongue, back and forth, rubbing a rough circuit over your clit. The rush of pain, of Atsushi’s tongue against your cunt, of your orgasm crashing over you had your muscles seizing until you shook with a whine, “Fuck~”

Atsushi gripped your hips as your knees buckled underneath you, rising to meet your lips. His cock was rigid in his pants, and hot against your thigh as he rubbed himself against you in earnest, no doubt trying to relieve the ache while he kissed you.

“Fuck.. Fuck I’m so sorry…” He huffed against your mouth between sloppy kisses, “I can’t… I can’t…” He couldn’t seem to get the words out, instead hauling you up by your ass onto the counter, following shortly after, caging you in onto your back with trembling arms. He yanked roughly at his belt and fly until the offending articles were shifted down over his hips.

The first thing you felt was warmth, and your head fell back against the counter, eyes closed. Though your eyebrows knit together when he slid against your slick slit, and where you expected smooth skin, maybe engorged veins, instead you felt ridges, dimples and spines. Your eyes flew open, suddenly aware of just how tight your skin felt, how warm the room was, how close Atsushi was as he bowed his head, panting in the crook of your neck, his fangs grazing the tender bite from before. You shivered as something wet trickled across your neck.

You carded your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, twisting and untwisting them.

“Go ahead, baby…” you breathed, but Atsushi shook his head and said nothing, only continued threading his cock through your pussy. Your body surged, your fingers knotted harshly in his hair, “Fuck me, Atsushi.”

What fell from your lips next was something between a choked moan and a scream as he bit down on the flesh of your shoulder again, drawing fresh blood and another rush of endorphins to flood your brain while he shoved himself inside your drooling cunt. You felt every inch of texture as he fucked into you with absolute reckless abandon, every ridge and crevice and spine rubbing up against your velvety walls. The hooked end of his cock seated itself deep inside you, so deep you felt the muscles in the deepest parts of your belly cramp in protest.

Your hands fell weakly from his hair, his own quick to press your wrists into the counter while he fucked you, your pussy still wet from your previous release, and another almost embarrassingly close.

Why? Why were you reacting this way? Shouldn’t you be frightened? Running for your life?

Your mind sloshed through these questions, swiftly melting between the pain and pleasure of Atsushi’s claiming bite and his massive, inhuman cock slamming into you. When you felt his claws bite into your skin again, your cunt snapped shut around him and gushed around his cock. At your suddenly tightening pussy, he released your shoulder to heave ragged breaths against your abused skin. You felt his hips stutter, and his cock swell as he came. He came and came and came until you felt it spill out around him spattering your thighs and dribbling down the crack of your ass as he fucked it all into you.

He stilled above you, breathing still heavy and saying nothing. At length, he pushed himself off of you. The ache started to settle into your shoulder, so you rolled your head weakly to the side to look at him. His eyes were closed, probably exhausted by the way he still seemed to be catching his breath. He gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked it over his head, the sheen of sweat of catching the moonlight, highlighting the toned planes of his chest and abs, shadowing at his hip bones with his pants still slung low over them, granting a full view of his slowly softening cock. He didn’t even bother to slip out of his pants, or even acknowledge you at all before he collapsed onto his couch, unconscious.

Your own chest heaved as you turned your head toward the ceiling again. You brought shaking fingers to your neck and winced, pulling away to reveal bright red blood that dripped down your palm.

You had to take care of this. Now.

You pushed yourself up, your muscles trembled in protest, but you got yourself off the counter, the fresh blood smearing with you, dark in the blue light of the moon. Though you had to catch yourself on the edge with your good arm, you were able to limp around to the bathroom. You flinched at the light when you flicked it on, but once your vision adjusted, you surveyed the damage.

Deep purple, almost black bruises spread from your neck to your collarbone, blooming like grisly petals around the bloody red pistil across your shoulder, dripping down your chest. You swallowed though your mouth felt like it was full of cotton, and brought still trembling hands up to the mirrored door of the medicine cabinet. You rifled around, cursed when several bottles and containers clattered into the sink, but eventually you were able to produce some disinfectant, cotton balls, even a gauze pad, though it would be too small to cover the full extent of the damage.

Where the fuck was Dazai when you needed him?

You hissed at the burn of the disinfectant spreading through the wounds, but the blood wiped away from your chest, what had dripped down your legs you decided to leave alone, applying small plasters over each cut, gnarled and angry from being used as a handhold for you. When you were done and satisfied, you leaned against the counter and gave your reflection a weary glare. A wave of exhaustion swept through you, fair enough you supposed, and you were sure Atsushi would have a (doubtlessly tearful) explanation for you in the morning.

That’d have to be enough. You left the bathroom, not even bothering to turn off the light, and shuffled back to the living room until you found the first soft surface you could, and collapsed face down into a somehow overstuffed and deflated beanbag, slamming almost immediately into a deep sleep.

When you awoke, the moon was still high in the sky, a long way from morning. You’d moved little from where you’d fallen asleep, only your hips were hiked up, skirt falling over your back and Atsushi behind you, gripping the plush cheeks of your ass, spreading and squeezing them.

“Atsushi?” You groaned. You tried to turn over, only to be reprimanded by your aching shoulder. Then you stilled at the feeling of Atsushi’s thumb circling your clit. You moaned into the touch, pushed back against it until the now familiar warmth of his dick pressed against your ass.

“So ready for me… Just for me…” he murmured, not to you, more like at you, in your direction as he thumbed idly up and down your pussy, still dripping with his cum and your new wave of arousal.

He sucked in a sharp breath as his hand flew to your hips again, shifting the tip of his cock to slot at your entrance. He didn’t sheath his claws, just used them again to pierce your skin with new holes, pulling you onto his dick with a guttural grunt as he punched the air from your lungs. You couldn’t push yourself onto your elbows, so you rocked back on your knees to meet him as best you could, but ultimately gave up and let him fuck himself into your pussy, slamming against your g spot, and rubbing every spot in every right way.

You let your face fall into the cushion, reveling in the way he filled you. It made you feel dirty, being fucked like that, but something about it set your blood on fire. You gasped at the feel of his arm around your waist, pulling you up against his chest while he continued to rut into you, his nose nuzzled against your neck, breathing in the salty scent of your skin. He pulled away suddenly, almost like he was offended at what he found there. He removed one hand from your hip and reached for your shoulder, snatching away the bandage you’d applied there and earning a yelp from you.

His grip was iron around your waist, his free hand coming to rest on your chest. He licked a long stripe up the column of your neck, still unmarked on that side, until he kissed the crook of that shoulder, only to immediately follow with his teeth again.

You were dizzy with the feeling, a strangled gasp all that you could force out as he fucked you harder with his teeth in you.You traitorous cunt clenched, and Atsushi growled around your flesh, his claws sinking into your chest, raking long, oozing stripes down your front. You cried out, eyes burning with tears as they ran down your cheeks. But God it was so good…

Syrupy sobs bubbled from your lips, rippling into the night until they were cut off by Atsuhi’s fingers flying to your mouth. You choked on them briefly until your tongue idled over his knuckles, the coppery taste of your blood painting your tongue as you avoided cutting yourself further on his claws, their cruel points pressed threateningly into the tender flesh lying just underneath your tongue, making saliva pool at the root of your tongue until you had to flex it, push the spit out the sides of your mouth so you didn’t choke, until it dripped down your chin and across the welling blood on your chest, tracking it down your body like grisly watercolor.

Atsushi’s hips snapped into you in that same way you knew he did when he was about to cum. Even if he didn’t say anything, even if he left all this evidence of such violence on your body, you knew it was still Atsushi. Your breath came in time with his thrusts, and you could barely find the words, especially around his fingers,

“C-cum… Please…”

You weren’t sure at this point if you were pleading for you or for him, but one arm gripped your waist, the other falling across your chest as he held you to him and came inside you again, surprisingly just as much as last time. Only now, he didn’t stop, he didn’t pull out. He held you there, and slowly pumped into you, fucking you through your orgasm. Even when he let you go and you fell forward onto the beanbag chair, sweating and panting. His hand trailed up your back, between your shoulder blades to the back of your neck, pushing down the whole way until you were pressed into a pretty, perfect arch for him to trace all the way back down, leaving raised pink welts across your back where his fingers had been.

He adjusted himself, supporting his weight on the middle of your back, pressing down on your ribs as he continued to buck into you. The position made you ache, like you couldn’t get enough air, and those damned claws hooked into you at such a harsh angle, all you could do was cry pitiful tears while he huffed over you,

“One more… Please just one fucking more…”

***

Dazai hopped up the stairs two at a time, the blue-grey light of the coming dawn betraying that it was, unfortunately, a workday. Another that it seemed clear that Atsushi was planning on missing. Dazai was all for playing hooky, but this was drastically cutting into his schedule, between slacking off and dicking around, he just didn’t have time for this.

He rounded the corner and stopped at Atsushi’s door, giving the door the old rat-a-tat-tat,

“Oh Atsushi~” He singsonged, “Wakey-wakey eggs and bakey…” But no one came. His face fell, that needle in his mind dropping right back into the executive groove.

Trap. Kidnapped. Ransom. Murdered.

No. There’s no blood, or sign of struggle. No traces of explosives or poison, unfortunately…

Dazai listened carefully through the door. He didn’t hear voices, or the telltale sounds of suited men turning the place over. Instead he heard the rhythmic waves of heavy breaths, followed by a loud growl like cracking thunder.

Fucking shit…

He slammed his shoulder through the door, the doorjamb splintering and flying into the entryway. And the sight he was met with was truly something to behold.

First of all, you were naked, something Dazai had previously only dreamed of; your eyes half closed, tracking shadows over your tear-streaked cheeks. Not an inch of skin unmarred from your neck to your breasts as they rebounded with each punishing thrust. He couldn’t even say that the amount of blood seeping into your skin hadn’t entered those late night fantasies.

And then there was Atsushi… one hand around your neck, cruel talons piercing the skin and drawing new rivulets of blood to run down your collarbone; his other arm about your waist, holding you up since you couldn’t seem to do so under your own power, and rutting into you like some kind of fuck doll. Your eyes rolled over to him, hazy and struggling to focus as your mouth hung slack in a silent moan.

“Jesus!” Dazai started, bounding across the room, arm outstretched. Atsushi choked as Dazai’s palm met his throat, toppling him to the ground as you fell to the floor with a thud. His eyes were wild, then distant, until finally they closed, his claws and teeth retracting to their normal state. “Yeah, whatever that was, why don’t you sleep it off, buddy…”

“Don’t…” Dazai heard you whisper hoarsely behind him, “Don’t hurt’im…”

He turned on his heel to address the next priority. He flipped you over onto your back, and as he inspected the damage, his lips pressed into a hard line and he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. Your skin was perforated with what could have been mistaken for small knicks if not for the thick tracks of dried blood trailing from them. Still, they were nothing compared to the deep gouges criss-crossing your chest and back, some of them scabbed but most of them either made or reopened recently enough to still be oozing blood. Some of them looked like they’d been at least somewhat treated, but eventually you must have given up trying.

Christ, you weren’t just fucked. You were fucking mauled…

At length, Dazai huffed a chuckle through his nose, a smirk curling his lips as he said, “You little freak… Had I known you had it in you, I’d have made you mine a long time ago…” He swept a curl away from your face, and tucked it behind your ear. You responded with your own dazed laugh before your face went ashen, and your head rolled limply to the side.

“Fucking shit.” Dazai cursed before he strode to the bathroom. Open packages of gauze and plasters littered the counter and the floor, disinfectant containers practically turned inside out in the sink, bright red streaks standing stark against the white counter and walls. He returned with a swiftness, his heart breaking into a steady trot as he knelt next to you.

“Alright pretty girl, you can’t die on me yet.” He muttered, shrugging out of his coat and untucking his shirt to reveal a wide expanse of bandages zigzagged over his torso. He untucked one end and started unwinding his body.

“Damn it Odasaku… Could have had her bleeding and broken on my dick, but ohhh nooo, ‘that’s what evil people do’...” He grumbled to himself before taking the bandage between his teeth and tearing it. He untucked his phone, and with a few swipes he cradled it against his shoulder as he applied the gauzy strip to the worst of your wounds, the clean white darkening uselessly. The phone only droned half a ring before the line clicked open.

“Yosano…” Dazai greeted cheerfully, “How do you feel about making a house call…”

***

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, nearly drowning out the late morning sunlight slanting through the windows. The tap tap tap of Yosano’s toe keeping time to the thudding of Atsushi’s heart. She was the one to break the silence first.

“Fascinating.”

Atsushi’s face crinkled in confusion, “W-what?”

“Just, I’ve never seen anything like it. Like, sure, you’re a were-tiger, but I never thought an ability would have this much of an affect on your physiology.”

“Um… thank you?”

She leaned forward suddenly, nearly toppling Atsushi out of his seat.

“Let me study you!”

“What?! No!”

“Oh come on…” Yosano whined.

Before Atsushi could reiterate his absolute refusal,

“I hate to interrupt…” Dazai droned, leaning against the door frame, “I just thought you’d like to know that she’s awake.”

Atsushi leapt up from his stool so fast, it was still spinning as he raced down the hallway. He almost skidded right past your room until he saw you, sitting up, gazing out the window. Despite the bandages wrapping you up from your neck and disappearing beneath your gown, you were still so pretty. Where the light in Yosano’s office was sterile, artificial, the sun gleaming into your room seemed to curl around you.

Even though Atsushi tried to tip toe into the room, you knew he was there, and turned to him with a wan smile plastered helplessly on your lips.

“Hey you…”

“Hey…”

Atsushi was curled into himself, looking far too much like Dazai’s withering petal, and not nearly close enough to the flourishing sprout you had seen him become. He was well and truly eaten up by what had happened, just like you knew he’d be.

You reached out and patted the empty space at the edge of your bed, a seat which he took, however hesitantly. A long silence stretched between you, until you both opened your mouths to speak only to devolve into embarrassed chuckles,

“You first…” You nodded for him to go ahead.

He chewed his words, no doubt a storm of guilt whirling and thrashing inside him.

“I… don’t even know how to tell you how sorry I am. It feels so stupid even saying it out loud, I-”

“Nothing to apologize for.” You cut in.

For the first time since he sat down, he looked at you, eyes wide and searching.

“You could have died.”

“But I didn’t.” You said, “And you could die any day, being a part of the ADA. I mean, have you seen Yokohama?”

You chuckled, but trailed off when you were the only one laughing. You placed a hand on his knee and said,

“Listen… It’s something that’s never happened before. Now we know and we can be better prepared for next time.”

“Next time?” Atsushi looked up at you gain, and was equal amounts horrified and intrigued by the mischievous glint in your eye.

“When do you think we can do that again?..”

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #atsushi x you #atsushi x y/n #atsushi x reader #bsd smut #you're a were-tiger #grow some were-balls #paramour writes

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