#the other heels were very stiff and hard to position anyways

[kismetmoon]

another redesign just for you bbg, on the house

[ID: a digital drawing of an original, stylised Flatland character named Chief Jr on a beige background.

Chief is a circle with black limbs, an eye with a glossy eyelid in the centre of his body and a long tail that ends in a vaguely flame-shaped tip. His body has a light and dark grey crescent moon pattern and he is wearing a simple black crown on his top side.

He is facing the left with his right arm held out in front of him. In his right hand, he is holding a cigarette holder between his clawed fingers with a lit cigarette that has smoke trailing from it. His left arm is crossed over the other and his eyelid is lowered in a relaxed expression. His tail is curved into a sideways S-shape beneath him.

End ID].

[229zmi]

HEAD OVER HEELS

PAIRING: Kuroo Tetsurō/Reader

CONTENT: confessions, friends to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

“We need to talk.”

“Holy shit,” are the first words that escape your mouth moments after you open the door and step a singular foot into the hallway.

Before the person in front of you even has the chance to react to your very kind and courteous reaction, you proceed to slowly slide your foot back inside the classroom you were just about to exit, the noise of your sneakers scraping over the metal frame piercing the silence. Kuroo stifles a laugh behind his hand, smoothly playing it off as a cough.

Right as you’re about to shut the door, he swiftly sticks a foot in the doorway and then side shuffles his way in like a crab, all while combatting your feeble attempts to squash him with the door. Once you realise this guy isn’t going anywhere without a word with you, you give up with an aggravated sigh and step aside, giving him the Kubrick stare as he strolls past you.

You’re still glaring at him when he takes a seat on top of one of the desks, using the chair as a foot rest.

The table’s long enough that the two of you could comfortably sit side-by-side on it. He gestures to the empty space beside him, yet you don’t budge an inch from your spot. Instead, you opt to exhibit main character syndrome by crossing your arms and leaning against the wall at an uncomfortable angle. Seconds later, though, you shift your position, awkwardly shuffling to more comfortable pose.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Kuroo says in a stiff manner that leads you to believe he’s got a pre-written speech that he skimmed over only once before shoving it in his pockets. He glances around the room, everywhere but you. Fidgets with his watch, twisting it around and around his wrist. Clears his throat, before speaking up again when it becomes obvious you have nothing to say in response. “Actually— it’s been almost a month since we last talked. Now if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

He raises an eyebrow as if to silently question you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you announce haughtily. You pretend to think long and hard by simultaneously placing a finger on your chin and averting your gaze to one of the cobwebbed corners of the ceiling as you rack your brain for any memory of a conversation with him over these past few weeks. Come to think of it, he’s right, as much as you’d rather not admit that right now. The number of words exchanged between you and Kuroo has been… low, as of lately.

But not zero.

You snap your fingers and smile at your newfound eureka moment. “We talked during our physics lab last Tuesday.”

All he gives you is a placid stare because he’s not really believing what you’re saying right now. Slowly, he responds, “I asked if I could borrow a pencil from you and you said no.”

“‘Cause I didn’t have an extra one.” Lies. Kuroo knows of your susceptibility to ordering cute stationery from sketchy websites online and bringing all of them with you everywhere you go. Nonetheless, he holds back on calling out your fib. “It’s still talking anyway, so I don’t really see the problem,” you say.

“…Okay, then I rescind my sentence. It’s been almost a month since we’ve last had an actual conversation,” he corrects himself, his tone hinting at the tiniest bit of spite. “My point still stands. You haven’t been answering any of my calls or texts. All of a sudden, you go out of your way to sit on the opposite side of the classroom instead of your usual seat next to me. And every time I see you around on campus, you turn around and speed-walk in the other direction before I can even wave hi to you. It’s like watching on you move at 2x speed every time.”

He holds up two fingers and then wriggles them upside down in a way that’s supposed to mimic your alleged speed-walking. Clearly unimpressed, your upper lip curls into a scowl.

“Sounds a lot to me like avoidance, unless you’re purposely playing hard-to-get all of a sudden.”

“Those are some bold allegations.“

“Sure. Maybe they are.” He doesn’t bother arguing with you on that, which you believe is out of the ordinary, and it leaves an unsettling feeling in your gut. In all the years you’ve known him, you can’t remember the last time he agreed with you just like that, no debate or annoying remarks or anything, because it’s always been like this: you say literally anything with no evidence or explanation, and he plays pretend as someone having PhD in whatever it is that you’re talking about.

Maybe, you think dejectedly, you really did ruin your years-long friendship that one fateful day, the day you accidentally had one too many drinks and ended up spewing into the air a mix of vomit, nonsensical philosophies, and a confession you didn’t mean to ever let loose from the sanctuary of your heart. Maybe, things are changing, for the worse; and maybe, a rejection is going to come hurtling at your face soon, sometime in next couple minutes— that is, if you make it through the rest of this conversation without actually exploding internally. Either that, or power-walking away like a coward, the way you’ve been doing for the past month.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watch as Kuroo leans back, bracing his hand against the surface of the table. You think this is the moment; this is when he’ll say something along the vague lines of the two of you just staying friends and leave it at that, and for the weeks that follow afterward, you’ll mull around in your room, sulking over your very first heartbreak until the motivation hits and you get the coming-of-age movie glow-up you’ve always dreamed of.

However, the next thing you hear out of him is far worse than anything you could imagine, making the warmth in your cheeks flare up the second his words register to you — or rather, your words.

“But maybe they’re not as bold as you the day right before you started avoiding me, when you said, and I quote, ‘Tetsurō,’” he pitches his voice to sound more like yours, though the impression is done exaggeratedly, “‘I think I’m falling in love with you.’”

???? Why did he do that.

The nerve of this man. You want to scream. Punch the wall. Kick him in the face. Because if the embarrassment that crushed you like a hydraulic press the morning after your confession was enough to almost kill you, this just brought you straight to your grave without warning, burying you six feet under. You start mentally counting all his eyebrow hairs, partly because you can’t stand to see that heinously satisfied look in his eyes right now, but also because you hope your sudden focus on the forehead region of his face will at least dwindle his confidence by a little bit.

(Though, perhaps the less vengeful part of you is glad to see the familiar smug Kuroo you know so well, as opposed to the prior Kuroo who looked like he hadn’t taken a shit in several weeks.)

“You really suck,” you drawl, finally shifting your attention away from his eyebrows only to send him a glare. “Do you think my feelings are a joke?”

His lips morph into a frown. “Hey, no. I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head, then tries to reassure you, “I don’t think your feelings are a joke, and I’m sorry I made it seem that way. I brought it up only because I wasn’t sure whether you remembered or not and I was wondering if you really meant it.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“At first, I wasn’t going to talk about it with you, especially if you weren’t going to bring it up first, but then you started avoiding me and… [Y/n], I miss you a lot. I miss waking up to your texts and pictures of the ugly squirrels outside your window.” (You mutter something under your breath about how they aren’t that ugly.) “I miss sitting next to you and watching you switch between twenty different pens and highlighters during class.” (You bet he misses switching the caps of your highlighters, too, whenever you’re not looking.) “And I hate acting like we’re strangers whenever I see you on campus because, as funny as it is, it hurts a lot right here.”

He places a hand over his heart with a wounded expression. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you simply let out a dejected sigh.

“I.. I’ve missed you too,” you admit reluctantly. You twiddle your fingers and avert your eyes, wallowing in the awkward silence that ensues after. Kuroo seems to be thinking, centring his analytical gaze onto you as if trying to read your thoughts.

“Did you mean it? What you said at that party last month?”

Wow! Suddenly, that clock on the wall looks super interesting. “You know, my next class starts in a few minutes, I should really get going. See you—“

“I know your schedule,” he cuts in, his tone carrying a certain degree of slyness to it. “You don’t have class until four.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Weirdo.”

“Liar,” he retorts with a sickly sweet smile. For the second time in this conversation, you get the violent urge to scream, punch the wall, and kiss— sorry, kick him in the face all at once.

There’s another silence that follows and that you believe is the worst one you’ve sat through in a while, even worse than the silence you experienced in your first year after mispronouncing the word ‘organism’ during a presentation. You chew the inside of your cheek, feeling your heart thump wildly against your chest. He waits expectantly.

He really isn’t going to let this go.

“I did mean it,” you say eventually. Eugh, yuck! Even just admitting that already makes you want to coil into yourself. “You make me so sick to my stomach with your shitty grin and your shitty charm and your shitty hair, and sometimes I wonder what heinous crime or sin I committed in a past life to deserve this feeling because it never goes away, only gets worse the more we hang out and—“

“Woah, woah, woah. Hold on.” There’s a look of incredulity on his face, almost offended.

“…What?” you say.

“You called my hair shitty.” Again, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes, instead settling for a less-than-impressed expression. “I can’t believe you’d lie and say something like that. It’s practically a fine art, getting it to look like this, you know.”

“I’m sure it is.” You straighten your back and abruptly push yourself off the wall before ungracefully shuffling to the side, towards the door. “Well. We talked. You got your answer. Soooo, I am departing. Goodbye.”

“Wait.” He stands up and chases after you, nearly colliding with your back when you suddenly stop and turn around. There appears to be an unspoken agreement as soon as the both of you realise the amount of space in between your faces: mere inches. Neither of you seem willing to back away. “Before you go, I have something else to tell you.”

“Make it quick.”

A light laugh from him brushes against your nose. You try not to think about it. “You’re in that much of a hurry to get away from me already?”

Your face feels unbearably warm. “Shut up.”

“How sweet of you,” he coos, reaching up to pinch your cheek affectionately. Despite your irritated expression, you make no effort to swat his hand away.

He then leans in close, a debonair grin dancing at the corners of his mouth as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. However, you note that in your peripheral vision, his ears are tinted red and in spite of his confident, teasing front, he still sounds the tiniest bit abashed as he whispers, “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too.”

[cdroloisms]

Do you consider a possibility that c!Punz never betrayed c!Dream in the first place and whole "I'm sorry, Dream -- but you should have paid me more" thing was a facade and undercover for Punz? Like Dream said that Punz should not associated with him, so it was intentional-

staged disc finale theory my beloved !!! :D it’s definitely one of my favorite theories, though i’m still holding out (for now) as for believing super firmly in one direction or another (tho the staged finale is definitely the one i prefer for Many reasons, haha.) c!punz is so so fun no matter if the betrayal was intentional or not, but oh boyyyy if it was something planned ,,, man . 

*c!dream voice, after quackity starts visiting*: the risk i took was calculated, but man am i bad at math. 

anyway c!punz and c!dream interactions make me soft as heck so have this !!

tw: implied torture, abuse, violence, blood, injuries, emotional distress, panicking, dehumanization, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy mindsets, illness, trauma, flashbacks, starvation mention, suicide mention, death mentions, dark content, dark imagery, prison arc/pandora’s vault themes, c!quackity critical/dark portrayal of c!quackity

Dream comes to in vague moments and flashes. 

There’s a hand brushing over his forehead, too gentle to be Quackity or the Warden, not Techno because Techno is Gone and he has Left and won’t come again, running through the sweat-soaked locks and pulling them back out of his forehead. He’s unbearably hot, shifting around on the ground, only barely registering it moving beneath him. Water, cool and clear, is tipped in between his lips, quenching his thirst and easing the dryness of his mouth. Someone speaks, voice low and rumbling, and even though he’s unable to make out the words, there’s something about the cadence of them and the specific rhythm in which they move and rise and dip that is bone-achingly familiar, enough to lull him into a fitful sleep. Through it all, there is always something, someone, lingering in the edges of his vision, a shadow standing near and watching over him; part of him remembers Quackity, remembers the Warden, and recoils in fright; another part of him remembers Techno, remembers the barest flashes of a life before obsidian and lava and pain and hell, and wants nothing more than to get closer. 

When the fog in his head finally clears away enough to think, the first coherent thought he has is oh fuck, I need to piss. 

Which, out of all possible things to think, is probably up there as one of the worst, and he’s sure that when his head feels a little less like it’s trying to actively kill him (ha, let it- it’s far from the first to try) the panic will settle in as it always does. As it is, he’s exhausted, and hungry, and he really really needs to pee- so he forces his eyes open to move away from where he’s probably still stuck in a puddle of dried blood in the middle of his cell.

The second coherent thought he has is this: this isn’t Pandora. 

The realization has him thoroughly awake, eyes snapping open out of his previous fatigue to take in his surroundings, feet kicking out to the weight on top of them that he hadn’t even noticed was there, panicking against his restraints that end up not being restraints at all, giving way easily under his thrashing and resolving to what appears to be a thick blanket when he has the mind to look. With the covers gone off of whatever he’s lying on (a bed?) he’s suddenly, unbearably cold - the prison has always been hot, the lava baking into him and leaving his skin sticky with sweat, and he thinks that the room he’s in is probably not meant to feel like a fucking freezer, but after months of being one wrong step away from heatstroke, anything cooler than the goddamn Nether feels like literal ice against his skin. The room is wooden and cozy and oddly familiar, an open door leading to what appears to be a bathroom and a closed one going who knows where, window panes built into the opposite wall to let the sunlight in. It’s a nice room, all things considered, and Dream fucking hates it. 

He pulls himself to his feet, cursing at the wobbly edge to his stance when he finally manages to stand, his vision wavering dangerously in time to the spinning of his head. His eyes flick between the two doors - he still needs to go to the bathroom, and using it now will lessen the amount of things to get in the way of his escape in the future - but at the same time, there's no knowing when people will come to (hurt him, beat him, starve him, punish him, leaving him bruised and bleeding and half-dead on the floor just as he deserves) him and he needs all the time he can get to get the hell away. In the end, he slinks into the bathroom, ignoring the thudding in his chest as he does so - at the very least, the cabinets in the thing might provide him with some manner of a weapon. 

He’s only just past the door on the way out - a fucking broomstick in his hand because it’s all he could find - when his ears catch on the sound of metal clicking against each other and his eyes fall on the knob of the other door shaking as someone makes their way in. All at once, panic slams into him - goddammit, he should’ve just run when he had the chance - and he directs quick, desperate glances at the window. Maybe, if he’s fast enough, he can book it out of there and disappear into the trees; it’ll hurt, but it’ll be better than getting caught. Anything would be better than getting caught-

 “Dream?” 

Dream blinks. All at once, the same feeling of getting the air punched out of him returns, but combined with something warm and floaty wrapping around his chest, something almost a little like relief - and hell, if that isn’t something he’s not felt for a while. 

“Punz?” 

Punz is standing in the doorway, hoodie rumpled, expression more than a little frazzled; Dream’s breath hitches at the sight of the sword strapped to his side, but their face holds none of the harsh edges and cold-dark-hard hatred that had characterized the Warden and Quackity’s visits, mouth slightly parted and eyes shining with nothing but what appears to be shock and concern. The sight of them, again, nearly has Dream dizzy, a swell of tangled, unexplainable emotion rising to the back of his throat as he sways on his feet. He hadn’t thought that he would see Punz again, he realizes, had never thought he’d see his stupid gold chain and his stupid outfit he never bothered changing, ever, or that same lopsided smirk and pale blue eyes- the last time he’d seen them, it was in that vault, their mouth twisted up in the act the two of them had decided on and eyes shimmering with unease and regret; as far as goodbyes went, it wasn’t the worst, not when Punz was one of the few to never leave him, not really, not when something ached in their expression other than the hatred that had colored all of the other expressionless faces watching him die. Months later, alone in Pandora, he must’ve grown resigned, or something, the repeated reminders that he would die alone and afraid and it would be nothing more than he deserved settling into his skin and against his bones; Punz’s expression twists, visible even across the room, and- oh. 

They must’ve thought the same thing, too.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Punz asks, finally, and Dream decides not to point out the way his voice cracks harshly in the middle, especially when the other man strides forward and starts to awkwardly herd him back in the direction of the bed - covers still thrown to the floor - in the middle of the room. Dream lets them, not replying because he doesn’t really know where to even begin describing the tangled knot of panic and shock that had strung his muscles tense when he woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, not knowing if he can really describe it all at all, trying his best not to flinch at the hands flitting in the corners of his vision as he falls back into a sitting position onto the bed. His fingers settle into the mattress, pressing into the bedsheets cautiously and marveling when they fall away under the pressure. Punz watches him, expression odd, gathers the blankets from the ground and presses them over and around him in a way that’s entirely awkward but does leave him warmer than he’d been before, before walking back on his heels with an odd expression that makes Dream’s insides twist. 

“You,” Punz says after a long second, voice wavering, “are a fucking idiot,” and it’s all the warning Dream gets before a white-and-black blur is rushing towards him, arms wrapping around his chest and his vision whites out in alarm and panic. When the pain doesn’t come, he comes back to his senses enough to realize that Punz’s arms are still wrapped around him, shoulders shaking as he holds him close but not painfully, careful not to pull too much against the places on his ribs and back that leave him gasping with small shocks of pain, head pressed against the crook of Dream’s neck and hair tickling his face. Dream can feel his heart hammering in his chest, but as the panic dies something warm and long-neglected stirs in the middle of his chest, and he melts forward with a quiet hum. This is- nice. Really, really nice. 

“What were you thinking?” Punz mutters, too quiet to really be directed at him, hands curling tighter into the folds of the hoodie - oh, he’s wearing one of those, not the same stiff, bloodstained material of the prison uniform that had chafed against his skin, another constant source of pain and discomfort of thousands in the hell that had been Pandora’s Vault  - on him, and Dream doesn’t really know what to do except sit there and blink dumbly, listening to the heartbeat of the person leaning against him rumbling against his ears. It’s oddly calming, has the pressure on his chest lightening enough to take a full breath, and then another, the warmth of someone leaning against him almost too much but not enough at the same time - his eyes burn, and he ignores them. 

“I-” he doesn’t really think that Punz was really asking a question, but just ignoring his question seems rude, too, and even despite the fuzzy warmth settling into his skin and into his bones from the pressure of Punz’s arms around his body and their head against his shoulder, he’s still unable to shake the anxiety of leaving a query unanswered, a constant murmur to listen obey do as you’re told or you’re going to regret it put on a damn good show or suffer the consequences remaining no matter how hard he tries to push it away. He wets his lips when his mouth feels too dry to keep speaking, eyes fluttering closed as he leans forward further, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You-” Punz cuts themselves off with a wet, incredulous-sounding laugh that has Dream jerking back despite himself, meeting their ice-cold eyes when they pull themselves back to look at him. He doesn’t really recognize the expression he wears, Dream realizes with a jolt, the way his lips are pressed together and the churning in his eyes, and his lungs seize in his chest. 

“Sir-”

If anything, Punz’s expression only seems to harden, and the warmth disappears as Dream looks into their eyes - cold, two polished shards of ice, frosted over pools of water in the middle of the tundra, flinty and sharp and brilliant blue. His hands shake as he pulls them back to his chest, trembling from the chill that’s made its home in his muscles and frozen them in place - sir sorry sir please don’t hurt me im sorry please I didn’t mean to

“Fuck, Dream,” he shakes his head, and only then does Dream see the slight wobble to their bottom lip, the waver to their words like they’re struggling to keep themselves together, “why didn’t you say anything?” 

 What?

You almost died, you know,” he keeps going, not meeting his eyes as they direct their gaze out the window, “Several times, honestly. Fucking hell- when Techno brought you out- I didn’t think you would survive. I didn’t think anyone could survive that.” 

Dream swallows. He doesn’t remember getting out, doesn’t really remember much at all if he’s being honest; there was the black of the cell, the heat of the lava, Techno promising to get him out before disappearing in a flash of purple, Quackity throwing him against the wall (Where the fuck did Techno go? You better have a fuckin’ answer, pal, if you want your death to be anything resemblin’ quick-) then nothing. Everything. His heart hammering in his chest and blood slick against his skin and the press of metal against his windpipe and pain, the only constant within it all, the only thing that made any goddamn sense when the room seemed to flip and turn and twist and his feelings knotted and frayed between anger-betrayal-distress-sadness-fear-grief, when reality swirled into a dizzying blur of colors and feelings and sounds carving themselves into the inside of his skull- then here. Dream flexes his hand experimentally, marveling at the feeling - the pain is almost gone. 

He’d forgotten how it felt, really, to live and not hurt. 

“Dream,” Punz calls again, voice low and worried, and Dream can’t help the way his head snaps up to meet their eyes and can’t help the flinch that twists his neck back when their frown deepens. It’d been a show, at least he tells himself, because Quackity would stop earlier if he screamed more, but- his hands tremble at his sides, twisted into the sheets of the bed, a near-constant litany of reminders and rules beating like they have a heart of their own in the back of his head. It was a show- he feels himself almost buckle, give in under the force of the stare leveled at him, and hates himself for how weak he feels, pinned under the eyes trained on his own. He’s not sure how much of a show it is anymore. 

“Dream,” Punz repeats, words even softer, and the ugly feeling of shame and anger twists inside Dream’s chest again. Punz- ever unflappable, deadly with almost any weapon and never letting anyone see him as anything but deliberately apathetic - is watching him with an expression so uncharacteristically and unbearably gentle that it makes his breath catch in his throat. “You could’ve died,” he says once again, and the look that paints his face is so terribly vulnerable, feelings pouring over like a cup overfilled, bubbling forward and bleeding from every corner, and Dream- can’t. He doesn’t know what to do in the face of such stark emotion, doesn’t know how how to handle the way his eyes burn and his heart throbs like an exposed nerve, the way everything yawns wide in the middle of his chest into void and emptiness and pain so deeply carved in the space within his ribs that he half-thinks he’s been hollowed out entirely.

“But I didn’t.” 

Punz pulls back, but Dream isn’t looking at him, is staring at the scarred surfaces of the backs of his hands and the knobs of his knuckles sticking out against the thinned-out skin and the yellowed nails he’s pushing against the blanket, the fourth and fifth ones of his right hand missing. They shake, no matter how long he looks at them and how hard he tries to make them stay still, and he can feel a voice whispering in the back of his mind, tone too familiar to ignore. Weak. 

“I didn’t die,” he says when Punz doesn’t reply, looking at his scarred hands, weak hands, broken hands. “So it’s okay. We can keep- we can keep going.”

“Dream-” their voice is a blade scraping against an anvil, nails scraping over his ribs, his hands clamping over his ears before he’s realized he’s moved and his brain screaming at him for doing so once he realizes that he has, “-what the fuck are you talking about?” 

Still, he hadn’t survived months of Quackity’s visits by bending over the second he was pushed, so he forces his tongue to move from where it’s fallen to the bottom of his mouth like lead, feels his eyes go steely even from under the way his vision has already begun to wobble. 

“It’s not over yet,” he continues, trying to keep his words even, “‘cause I didn’t die, so we’re not done. I gotta- we have to reevaluate, of course,” he can’t stop, because the second he stops talking is the second he falls apart, so he ignores the way that Punz stiffens and stills and doesn’t let anything stop the flow of words spilling out of his mouth, “because the vault and the prison- um, obviously didn’t go as planned, but it’s fine. Just a minor- um, minor inconvenience. A setback- but it’s not- it’s not unsalvageable- we just have to-”

“Are you kidding me?” Punz cuts him off with a sharp laugh, disbelieving and just on the wrong side of desperate, and the air in Dream’s lungs freezes into a solid block of ice in the middle of his chest, “you- you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Punz?”

Dream’s voice comes out small, himself shrinking back into the bed, keenly aware, suddenly, of how there is nowhere he can go to run - Punz doesn’t seem to notice that he’s spoken at all, one of his hands moving up to tug through his hair, which is - now that Dream is looking - fluffier and messier than he remembers, sticking up in all directions like they didn’t bother to smooth it down.

“You think this is fine? You think that because you didn’t fucking die, that this is all okay?” Punz’s voice rises in volume slowly, not loud enough to be a shout but enough to go hard and unyielding like a threat, and with each word every remnant of the vault comes crawling, clawing back up to the front of his head, a pounding reminder to play his role, put on a show, behave behave behave-

“Goddammit, Dream,” Punz startles him out of his own thoughts, looking straight into his eyes with their ice-blue ones, “have you seen yourself?”

 Have you seen yourself? Lying down in your own goddamn filth like a fucking mutt- prime, you disgust me. 

“Your ribs were basically shattered. Your legs had fractures on both sides, and your back was so fucking torn up that it looked like more blood than skin. You’ve been starved- enough for me to see every goddamn bone in your body, it feels like. Your throat was bruised to hell- I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be able to speak again, fuck, and like a day after we got here you got fucking pneumonia.” Punz’s breath hitches, “Your skin was a literal fucking oven- I thought you’d bake yourself from the inside out. You could’ve died- you should’ve died.”

 You should’ve died a hell of a long time ago, pal- should’ve saved us all the fucking trouble and offed yourself like Wilbur fucking Soot.

He flinches, and this, Punz seems to notice, eyes widening a fraction before they pitch their voce lower, clearly taking a few breaths to calm down and reaching forward to take one of Dream’s hands loosely in his own, thumb smoothing over the bumps of his knuckles. 

“You’re not fine,” he says after a long while, shaking his head. “Hell- I’m not fine. But we’re not doing anything like- like the vault or the prison again, dude. I told you they were shit ideas- fuck. We never should’ve done that.”

“It was worth it,” Dream butts in, because he can’t imagine a world where it wasn’t, can’t imagine a world where all of that was for nothing, “it was worth it-” 

“No it fucking wasn’t, are you out of your mind?” Punz replies immediately, voice overlapping over Dream’s own, “have you listened to a single thing I’ve said? You- look at you! How was that worth it?”

Dream shakes his head stubbornly, already feeling the way his jaw is trembling around the words he forces himself to speak. “The server- it was all for the server-”

“Fuck the server!” 

Punz seems startled by their own shout, drawing back at the same time Dream does, breathing ragged. He takes a few seconds to compose himself, bringing his hand to his face as Dream sits stock still, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Fuck the fucking server, okay?” Punz says, finally, voice cracking in the middle, “You lost two damn lives for this server. You got fucking tortured for fucking months for this shitstain of a server. Just- fuck them. I’m not watching you tear yourself to fucking shreds for this- not again. I can’t sit around and watch you fucking die again, Dream, I can’t drag you out bleeding out in my fucking arms again- fuck-” Punz shakes their head, and oh. They’re crying. 

“No more. Fuck the server. I’m done, Dream- we’re done with them.” 

Dream blinks, so thoroughly surprised that he thinks the shock knocked him straight out of the building panic attack, leaving nothing but a slight thrumming of anxiety still simmering beneath his skin. Almost instinctually, in a motion he doesn’t really remember but still has the muscle memory for, he opens his arms- and in a similar, near-unconscious response, Punz tumbles into his arms. 

He blinks, not moving his arms to curl around the other, feeling the weight of another person against his again and the sound of their breathing and relearning them both. This is- new, for both of them. Dream was never emotional, not before the prison, not that he wanted to be after it either- but Quackity always had a particular affinity for tearing him apart, shard by shard. And Punz- he’d never been like this, even back in the day, when things were easier and they didn’t bear the constant burden of netherite against their backs. They’d always been stoic, sharp, sarcastic, cool and dry in a way that chafed against Sapnap’s fire and always led to Dream laughing at them sooner or later. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, feeling the heat behind his eyes finally sear too hot and boil over, tears squeezing through his closed eyes and falling down his face. 

“Okay,” he says, finally, and there’s nothing easy about the acquiescence, not when he had poured blood and sweat and the better half of himself into this place, salted the earth with his tears until no more would come and nothing else would grow. He thinks that he will have more to think and more to say and more to protest come the next days, that the binds between him and his goals have been weaved too deep with the fibers of his soul for him to tear them free without sacrificing what broken pieces of himself he has left, but all he can think right now is how fucking tired he is. He remembers Techno’s voice, going through myth after myth to pass time in the prison, and thinks with something like humor and something like grief - let someone else be Atlas for a day. The sky is too heavy right now. Punz’s arms tighten around his body, enough to remind him that they’re there but not enough to press at his still-healing ribs, and he thinks that they might understand. “Okay.” 

[willwriteforhugs]

you saved me- park seonghwa

seonghwa x reader - one shot !

word count: 2k

genre: fluff, meet-cute

synopsis: a busy and cold winter day leads you to a (very close) brush with death. but a stranger seems to be in just the right place at just the right time...

warnings: mentions of loneliness, near car accident (nothing too serious)

a/n: 

me as i open tumblr with the intent of actually posting for once: god i need to go post something so i feel less bad about being alive

so, anyways. first seonghwa fic- which is really just a long drabble. i always knew i wanted a seonghwa meet-cute, and this idea just seemed to suit him... please remember that this is for entertainment purposes only, though, so be respectful! (also, ^^^THIS genre of seonghwa pic, with the grainy filter and the tan...bruh...)

 anyways, i hope you enjoy, and as always- thank you for reading :)

- - -

your breath comes out in short, angry puffs, which you can see reflected in the cold afternoon air. the temperature in seoul is absolutely freezing, and you are not dressed for it. when you had left for work this morning, (in your standard sweater + jeans combo) you clearly were not anticipating that the sky would dump snow all day long. you long desperately for your warm winter coat.

so now, here you are: jogging, but only as quickly as you feel is safe in this weather. your condo is only a few blocks down- hence why you had walked in the first place, and why you hadn’t brought cash to pay for a bus. but god, the cold is just piercing.

the streets are practically empty, because of the terrible weather. so, at the very least, you are spared the embarrassment of having to waddle awkwardly on the ice in front of others.

but, to add to the stress- your day had seriously not gone as planned.

 when you first took it, you thought that the simple receptionist job would be easy- and doubly so with the convenient location. but these past few weeks were proving you wrong, today especially. while being distracted by coworkers, you accidentally put an important client on a somewhat permanent hold, and ruined a potential sale. as if that wasn’t enough, the next call you routed to a completely different office by mistake, earning you a strict talking to by the supervisor. 

so, to put it plainly: you were tired, annoyed, and cold. so. freaking. cold.

heaving a sigh, you continue your jog/waddle towards your street corner, which is two intersections away. faintly, you can hear a city bus approaching, the one that always stops near your work building. from where you are standing, the bus will be driving perpendicular to you, and you cock your head in thought. you don’t need the shuttle itself, since you live so close, but you wonder how close the bus is now...

feeling a sudden burst of energy, you speed up a bit, challenging yourself to beat the bus to the empty corner, even though you know it won’t stop there. this is something you do often- set up little games for yourself. it’s mostly an attempt to stay busy, but- though you’d never admit it, it helps with the loneliness too. when you race against the clock (say, to make a speedrun to the copy room at work) it almost feels like you are competing against an old friend.

you obviously know that you can’t beat the bus, but the thought itself is entertaining, so you throw caution to the wind. your feet slap the pavement as you run, and you hear yourself laugh a little. the cold air rushing by your cheeks helps distract you from your own thoughts.

you sprint through an empty intersection, and as you approach the final corner- having obviously lost the race to the bus- you begin to slow down a bit. but as you near the end of the sidewalk, (which is parallel to the moving bus, whose hulking body is getting ready to pass you) you feel your previous momentum get the better of you. 

you stumble off of the curb- and right into a vicious patch of ice on the waiting asphalt. 

it happens in slow motion: your feet slide harshly backwards, and you scramble for any traction- but to no avail. you hear yourself cry out as you fall forward, right into the path of the oncoming shuttle.

you slam your eyes shut.

but instead of hitting the ground, or the bus, a sudden weight catches you around your middle and lurches backwards. you scream again, certain you’ve already died.

you hear the sound of the bus honking as it speeds by- the only thing traveling faster than it is your frantic pulse.

you hit the ground hard, with all of your weight on your left shoulder and hip. even so, you start with the relief of knowing the bus didn’t even graze you. 

only after a moment do you realize why it hadn’t.

someone had caught you.

grabbed you from behind, and used their whole body weight to get the two of you to safety. 

you lurch forward, startled. as you turn around, you see him lying on the ground, in the same position you were in just seconds before- and you meet the eyes of the person who’d just saved you. 

it’s a man- a young one. and good god, he’s beautiful, too. the boy on the ground before you is seriously the epitome of korean beauty- large, dark eyes, an open face, and full lips. as soon as he opens his mouth, you wonder at how his teeth could possibly be so perfect.

it takes you a moment of staring before you realize he’s speaking to you. 

“um.” your voice breaks. “what?”

the boy scrambles onto his knees, shuffling towards you. “i asked if you’re alright- are you hurt?” his voice is concerned, and his hands flutter about your face- too wary to touch you, but clearly wanting to.

his eyes are more genuine than you can even take in, and you hesitate at the whole scene- what the hell is happening? did you hit your head?

you stutter, trying to make sense of the situation. the boy leans back on his heels as you finally catch your breath. 

your words are breathy, but deliberate. “you- you saved me.”

the boy tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. “yes, i suppose i did.” a beat passes before he continues. his eyes, though now bordering on playful, still look worried. “you probably shouldn’t be running in this sort of weather.”

you heave a sigh that comes out in a laugh. “yeah, i realize that now.”

your counterpart picks himself up off the ground, brushing off his front. he then extends a hand towards you. you stare at it for a moment, confused. for a moment, he looks down at you intently, waiting. your puzzlement passes, and you blush as you cautiously place your palm in his, allowing him to help you up. 

“i’m seonghwa, by the way. park seonghwa.” the man- no, seonghwa looks down at you, letting his sentence hang.

you clear your throat, feeling a harsh wave of embarrassment at the situation. “um- i’m y/n.”

seonghwa nods at you, taking a step back. his brow is furrowed. “well, y/n-ssi- you didn’t actually tell me if you were hurt or not. do you feel dizzy? nauseous?”

you throw your hands up in protest, not wanting to cause any more distress than you already had. “no, uh- i’m fine, really. maybe a little bruised, but i’m okay. i think it would be a bigger problem if you were hurt...”

you are not exaggerating- you can only imagine the guilt you would feel if he’d been injured. 

seonghwa represses a smile. “i’m alright too. you did startle me, though. thought i was about to witness something pretty terrible...”

at this, you give a surprised chuckle. “yeah, i’m so sorry...you really came out of nowhere, huh? i seriously didn’t even know you were there until i was on the ground!”

this time, it’s his turn to laugh. “yeah, those bus stops provide great cover.”

the two of you settle into a stiff silence, and you can practically hear your heart pounding- both with leftover adrenaline, as well as the sudden nerves that seonghwa was giving you.

“here,” he says, breaking the quiet. “take this.” he shrugs off his long winter coat, and before you can argue, he’s reached over and settled it on your shoulders. the relief is near instantaneous, but you find yourself a bit too tongue-tied to thank him.

you sigh again, determined to get the words out. “oh, god, i really am so sorry about that, um-” you stutter. “i really should thank you, for the coat. but also-” you take a deep breath. “thank you, park seonghwa, for saving my life.”

at this, the man actually blushes. he reaches a hand to rub the back of his neck. “no, really, it was just a gut reaction...”

you shake your head, insistent. “it doesn’t matter. i could have died, but you prevented that. now-” you can feel yourself gaining confidence. “what can i do to repay you?”

seonghwa’s face, which had previously harbored a look of child-like innocence, suddenly turns mischievous. 

you tilt your head, indicating an answer.

his smug smile is full now, chin tilted upwards. “i actually do have a request.”

“okay, shoot.”

“you’ll do anything i ask?”

you frown, narrowing your eyes in an almost flirtatious way. “i suppose i have a few limits...”

to your surprise, seonghwa interrupts you, eyes twinkling. “you’ll repay me- by allowing me to take you out on a date, y/n.”

your mind goes fully blank for a moment. 

...huh?

you blink in shock, not being able to suppress your initial reaction. “wait, come again?”

“will you go on a date with me?”

you stare at him- this terrifyingly beautiful man was asking you on a date? after you’d fully humiliated yourself in front of him? what on earth?

suddenly, before you can even finish the thought, you find yourself nodding. “i suppose i can arrange that.”

seonghwa’s smile is completely smug at this point. “does tonight work?”

you bite your lip, heart pounding despite the chilly weather. your voice comes out in a whisper: “yes, i suppose tonight works.”

seonghwa tries to bury his smile and looks at the ground. “that’s great.” he pauses, allowing his gaze to flit back to you. “do you- i hope this doesn’t sound weird, but do you want me to walk you home?”

you smile, but shake your head. “it’s alright, i live close. here- i’ll give you my number, though.”

you dig through your work satchel for a piece of paper and scribble your phone number on it. when you extend it, he accepts the slip, still trying to suppress his grin.

a beat passes, and the two of you look at each other intently.

and with that, seonghwa reaches down and gently takes your hand, glancing at your face to make sure the action is alright with you. when you don’t pull away, he lifts it up and presses a soft kiss to the top of your hand, holding your gaze the entire time. his lips are cold, an unlikely and romantic nod to the temperature.

you feel your neck and cheeks go red, but you smile in an attempt to seem casual. “thanks again, seonghwa. for helping me.”

“of course.” the man’s eyes are twinkling again. “as grim as it sounds, i’m sort of glad it happened. if it hadn’t, i probably wouldn’t be talking with you right now.”

you smirk in what you hope is a flirtatious manner. 

“well,” he continues. “don’t let me keep you. after all, you’ve got a date to get ready for.”

seonghwa begins to walk away, then turns back. “although,” he calls over his shoulder. “i’m pretty sure the guy you’re meeting with won’t care what you’re wearing. you could probably show up in your pajamas and he’d still think you were gorgeous. just for the record.”

before you could manage an answer, he turns on his heel and strides away- but even from here, you can tell he still has a goofy grin plastered on his face.

heart pounding, you turn and make your way towards your apartment building. 

despite yourself, you also can’t seem to keep the grin off of your face.

[angry-geese]

Jotaro Kujo x reader

Warnings: nsfw. Smut, fingering, oral (masc reciving), unprotected sex, not the healthiest relationship dynamic, implied age difference, daddy kink. Fem!Reader

Notes: Jotaro being a sugar daddy. College student!Reader, pt4 Jotaro- sort of takes place before the events of DIU but it really isn't clear

It only took a call.

You were still a college student at the time, taking a semester off of your studies. You had no idea what direction you wanted to go with your life, and wanted to get things sorted out before you dove head-first into a major you'd hate. Putting it lightly: the future was terrifying. For the time being, you were working at a coffee shop. It was a decent job- at full time it covered rent for an apartment you shared with a friend. You weren't rolling in it by any means, but you were comfortable enough.

Jotaro frequented your work. You had his order memorized: a single black coffee and a bagel- if he was getting something to eat that morning. Rather boring. A boring order for a seemingly aloof and uninteresting guy. From the very beginning you piqued his interest. You were just bubbly enough to break through that shell of his. He often asked you how school was going. Having thought about majoring in marine biology, it gave you two a lot to talk about. In the end you decided against it, but by then he was already head-over-heels for you.

It wasn't often you found yourself giving out your number to customers. Something about him interested you. It wasn't an immediate thing, taking you weeks to work up the nerve to do it. His reaction was hard to gauge.

You wouldn't receive a text until later that night.

He spent the entire day trying to figure out what to say. So he went with something simple: How are you?

It didn't take long for the two of you to make plans to see each other again. Your first date was to a fancy restaurant. Fancier than you were used to. Working as a barista wouldn't cover a dinner like that, even with tips. Seeing the bill nearly made your soul jump out of your body, but you gritted your teeth and figured you'd eat nothing but ramen until payday. You tried not to look too relieved when he said he'd pay. It was a first date, maybe he was trying to be nice. Then it happened on your second. Then again. No matter how much you offered to pay, he always refused, going out of his way to cover your half. At times it was irritating. It didn't feel fair to let him pay for everything.

You weren't exactly dating, but if someone asked you would deny being single. There was little you knew about him. Obviously you weren't entirely clueless; you knew about his occupation, some small things he liked, one time he even mentioned having a daughter. But it was all very basic, something you could get from one conversation. He was very reserved,

He's not quite sure how it happened. It was only a necklace.

Jotaro just wanted company. Dating someone so much younger made him a bit uncomfortable. To him, there was an obvious power difference. A man his age shouldn't be dating someone as young as you. Sure, you were an adult who could make their own decisions, but it felt wrong. He felt like he was abusing his position, but seeing you bent over his desk wearing nothing but that necklace changed that.

Any time you called, he'd come running. It wasn't always sex. He slept better with someone next to him. Sometimes you'd call him to fuck you against every flat surface of your apartment.

His rough hands trace over the delicate lace of your bra- a gift. Most of them were. Through his pants he hardens against your thigh. You grind down on his lap, your fingers working the buttons of his shirt. His fingers ghosts across your clit through your panties. Wetness pools between your thighs, making the thin fabric of your panties stick to your skin. You're almost embarrassed at how quickly you melt under his touch. Almost.

You should be glad the door to his office locks.

His fingers trace around your clit- not enough to get you anywhere fast- before moving to your thigh. His spare hand palms himself through his trousers. He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. You shift, almost unnoticeable so, desperate for more friction. His expression darkens. In retaliation you grind harder against his thigh.

"Don't be a brat."

"Sorry daddy."

He grunts, seemingly unimpressed with your apology. As much as he pretended to hate the nickname, it made something deep within him stir- almost shamefully so. His hands move to unhook your bra, tossing it aside. Often he ruined them, tearing them in the heat of the moment. He always bought you more.

Anything you wanted he would give to you.

He pulls you so your back is flush to his chest, gently tugging your legs open. Part of you is glad he can't see how you're blushing. His erection presses against your back, painfully hard and leaking against his thigh. From behind, he sucks a dark mark into your neck- you'll have a hard time covering it up in the morning. Not that you mind, you don't have much to do tomorrow anyway. For a moment his hand dips under the waistband of your panties. His free hand kneads the soft flesh of your breast, working your nipples into stiff peaks. He could watch you writhe under him all day. You maneuver your hips so he can pull them down, baring your sex. The sight of him fully clothed while you're completely naked sends a heat straight to your core. When you cross your arms over your chest to cover yourself, he's pulling them away, huffing in frustration. He'd never force you to do something you're uncomfortable with, but he sure did push your limits.

His fingers trace up the soft skin of your thigh. You jolt as his thumb briefly traces across your clit, before his hand comes to a rest on your leg. You know better than to grind against him. Though sometimes you do it just to piss him off. Roughly he shoves presses two fingers into you, moving with quick, short motions. Idly his thumb brushes over your clit. You can't help but squirm. Your moans and pleas only spur him on more. The sounds of your slick sex fills the room. Heat rises up in your cheeks at the lewd noises.

"Please daddy,"

"Please what?"

"Fuck me."

"Not until you cum on my hand first."

You whine. He only picks up the pace. This isn't the first time he's had to stretch you out before fucking you. The building tension in your stomach only serves to make you moan louder, crying out when he brushes against a particularly sensitive spot. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, goosebumps rising up on your exposed skin. Your breathing grows unsteady the closer you get to your own release. Against your bare thighs, Jotaro's cock hardens, leaking precum into his white pants. Your thighs clamp around his hand as you cum hard. He grunts and nips at your neck, letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand. It's only when the overstimulation becomes too much and you cry out that he pulls away, making a show of licking his fingers.

"On your knees."

"Yes daddy."

You slide off his lap so you're kneeling in front of him. His hands rest at his sides.

You waste no time in freeing him from his pants, his hardened cock springing free. Precum weeps from the head, which is flushed and angry looking. He grunts when you finally take him into your mouth. Your hands work the part of his shaft that won't fit- he's to big to fit in entirely. You press kitten licks to the head, slowly pumping him in your fist. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, his breathing is shallow and shaky. He groans at the warm, wet feeling of your mouth.

He doesn't want the moment to end just yet.

Jotaro's hand tangles in your hair, pulling you off of his cock with an audible pop. He hauls you into his lap, your knees on either sides of his thighs, your chest pressed against his. Slowly he guides you onto his cock, his hands kneading at the soft flesh of your ass. The sent of his cologne is heady and intoxicating. You're half drunk from his touch, your pupils blown, lips bitten pink. Even with the prep, it stings a bit. As you let out a hiss of pain, he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, smoothing a hand over your hair. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, before guiding you down more. You bottom out on his cock, moaning at the feeling.

Your lust-addled mind barely registers the way he begins bouncing you on his cock, guiding your hips with his hands. The sounds of your moans mix with the noise of skin slapping on skin. His fingers dig into your hips- not hard enough to leave bruises, but hard enough to hurt. You're so overcome with a mix of pain and pleasure that you can't focus on anything but him. He pulls you in for a kiss, but ends up nibbling at your bottom lip until you let him in your mouth. When Jotaro pulls away, a trail of saliva connects the two of you. A splotchy blush creeps up his neck, reaching his cheeks. He's unbuttoned the top few of his shirt, exposing his collarbone. Sweat beads on the planes of muscle of his chest and neck. He groans sinfully as you clench around him. You scramble for purchase against him, your arms wrapping around his neck, nails digging into his back.

His free hand moves to toy with your clit, the other gropes at your hips. He's can't pry his eyes from the way your tits bounce as you fuck yourself on his cock.

"Where do you want me to cum?" He asks.

"Inside!"

Your answer catches him off guard, but he's too close to his own orgasm to refuse. Your own release rolls over you like a wave, spitting you out and leaving you ruined. He clings onto your shaky form, pulling you close to him. Mascara streams down your face, your lipstick is smeared. His hot cum spills into your unprotected womb, leaking from you as he pulls out.

Jotaro takes a moment to admire your fucked-out expression before pulling you into his lap, cradling you in his arms. Your breathing evens out after a moment. You could fall asleep there if he'd let you. He just might. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, content where you are. The sight of your relaxed form makes affection swell in his chest. He uses the moment to press a kiss to your forehead.

The more he tried to convince himself he wasn't in love with you, the worse it got.

[iamdeku]

Peace: Prohero!Bakugou x Reader

This one is basically the same as Positions, except it’s Bakugou x reader. Just another very soft domestic fic. As always, all characters are 18+ unless stated otherwise.

Warnings: Nonsexual nudity. Mentions of kids/pregnancy.

You kicked off your heels the moment you walked in the door, feet aching. A rush of dead air thumped out of you as your back hit the doorframe, the impact ricocheting through your chest. You were too tired to care about that though, too tired to stand properly or do anything but crawl over towards the couch.

You were working as a secretary for Endeavor right now, and you hated it. He was the most unpleasant man to work with, and some days you came home feeling like crying. Today wasn’t one of those days, but it could become one at any moment. You lugged your sore bones over to the couch, throwing yourself over the armrest and coming to rest only halfway onto the couch.

It was there that Katsuki found you 5 minutes later after getting back from patrol.

He had a good night tonight, The streets hadn’t been too busy, and he had crushed every nasty villain that had dared to show their face. All day he had been looking forward to coming home to you, so much so that he had already packed a change of clothes, ready to cuddle in dark gray sweats and a black tank top.

He stopped dead after walking through the door of your apartment though, frowning. He could see your legs dangling over the arm of the couch, and, walking closer, he got a better view of you. It was just as he had expected. They had overworked you again, and now you looked exhausted.

You turned your face up when you heard him open the door, but you couldn’t be bothered to greet him like you normally would. Everything hurt from all the running around you had done today. You weren’t sure how Katsuki worked so hard every day and still kept going, though it might have something to do with the fact that his workout regime was considerably more difficult than yours.

“Hi baby,” you muttered, seeing his face over the edge of the couch.

“Those bastards are still working you too hard, aren’t they?”

Katsuki never beat around the bush. It was part of what you liked about him. You always knew when something was bothering him. You never had to wonder or get self-critical. If he didn’t like something, he would just say it.

“It’s okay. It’s not so bad.”

“I keep telling you, you should just quit. I make more than enough money for the both of us.” He huffed, sitting down beside you on the couch.

His clothes nearly blended into the black material as he tugged you into his lap, settling his chin on your shoulder. You breathed a sigh of relief at his touch, leaning back into him and letting the weight of the day slide off your shoulders. Katsuki’s warm, dependable strength at your back eased your stress.

“Just a little bit longer. I’ll find something better soon, and then I’ll quit.”

You could practically hear Katsuki rolling his eyes.

“Gonna make me start a hero agency just to get you a better job.”

“Pretty sure there are some kind of rules against your girlfriend working for you. Feels like a potential ethical vulnerability, especially for such a high visibility hero. They’d never get off your back about it.” You stretched out against him, toes curling. “I’ll just go work for Izuku when he starts his agency.”

Instantly, Katsuki was up in arms. “Stupid Deku? You’d rather work for him than me?”

You laughed softly, turning to face him better and cup his cheek in your hand. “No baby, of course not. We’ll work something out. It’s a while off anyway, and I can promise you I won’t be working for Endeavor by that time. “

“Better not be. I’m about to show up on his doorstep just to yell at him.”

You smiled indulgently. “You’re so overprotective.”

You felt him soften, even as his arms brought you in tighter, nose pressing into your hair. “Only for you. My best girl.”

You hummed softly as he started pressing kisses into your hair, moving down to your temple and slowly working his way across the expanse of your face. You caught your breath as his lips ghosted over your eyelids, tracing the bridge of your nose. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, eyes unfocused and dazed.

You had nothing to say to that, mouth hanging half open as you stared at him in awe. As much as it was normal for Katsuki to get like this with you, it never failed to surprise you, perhaps because of the contrast of how he was with everybody else. While he so obviously adored you, he could be a little rough around the edges with his friends and family, so when he got sensitive like this it always left you speechless.

“You missed a spot,” you whispered, leaning in and waiting for him to close the gap.

His kiss was slow and languid, taking his time with you as he laced his fingers through your hair. His thumb brushed up your waist, skimming the bare skin under the hem of your shirt and melting you. You turned to putty under his touch, collapsing into him as you breathed him in with a lazy hint of urgency.

He pulled away from you slowly, a string of saliva connecting your lips before you snapped it.

“Have you eaten yet today?” he asked, voice low, the rumble of his chest echoing in yours.

“I had a lunch break, yeah,” you said, ready to go back to kissing him.

“Come on baby, you know you need more than that,” he said, scooping you up.

You wrapped your arms around his neck with a yelp, holding on for dear life.

“Katsuki, what are you doing?” you whined.

“I’m taking you to the kitchen,” he said. “You need to eat dinner.”

“I’m too tired for dinner,” you groaned.

He scoffed. “You weren’t too tired to make out with me, brat.”

It only took him a few long strides to get to your small kitchen, opting to set you down on the counter instead of one of your perfectly good chairs. You didn’t mind though, since it gave you a better vantage point to watch him work. You loved watching Katsuki cook, and you especially loved when he cooked for you, as you knew it was his way of showing affection, amongst...other activities.

“What are you making?” you asked, leaning your head back against the cabinet.

“Your favorite,” he grunted, putting the ingredients together.

“Mmmm, yummy,” you said.

“Of course you think it’s yummy, it’s your favorite.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes and you watched the muscles of his back roll under his tank top as he moved a few pots and pans around in your kitchen. If you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t mind just eating him. The man put the term ‘snack’ to shame. You were trying not to drool over him, but there was just something about Katsuki in tank tops, all that muscle on open display like that for you.

You hopped off the counter, standing on unsteady, protesting legs to stand behind him and begin tracing patterns into his back. You rested your forehead just below his neck, your soft, open-mouthed breaths fluttering down the thin black material he wore. You closed your eyes, soaking up his presence greedily.

“You’re making it harder to cook.”

You huffed, pressing your smile into the ridges of his spine.

“You always do this. Pretend to hate me hovering while you work in the kitchen. Pretend not to love me.”

Katsuki stiffened, and you knew immediately you had said something wrong. He set everything down, turning to face you for a minute and cupping your face between his hands. Bright, searing red eyes met yours in a way that told you this was important.

“I never pretend not to love you. I always love you, and I’m not the kind of bastard who would lie about that.”

You reached a gentle hand up to wrap around his wrist.

“I know, Katsuki. I know you love me. Always. I was just teasing you. M’sorry.”

He bumped his forehead against yours, the gesture more lighthearted as he intertwined your hands.

“Stupid.”

“Still smarter than you,” you snarked, scrunching up your nose.

He just rolled his eyes at you again, letting go of you to turn back to his cooking. He grabbed his apron off its hook, starting to cook in earnest. Before you knew it, your kitchen was full of the smell of your favorite food, and your stomach was rumbling quite loudly.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at you as he plated the food.

“You want to tell that thing to shut up?”

You folded your arms over your stomach. “It doesn’t work like that, idiot.”

“Sure it doesn’t.” He smirked.

You almost picked a fight, but when you saw the finished food you couldn’t bring yourself to. You ate so fast you practically inhaled the food, hungrier than you had known after your long day. When you finished you were full and happy, a warm exhaustion chasing through your veins.

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the stiff wood of your kitchen chairs.

“I’ve decided to never move again. I’m just going to die here, with my greasy hair and achy bones and full of amazing food. This is as good as life gets, I think.”

Katsuki turned from where he was busy putting your dishes in the sink. Walking over to you, he picked you up for the second time that night. Pressing you tight to his body, he began to head towards your bedroom.

“This is not as good as life gets, and I’m going to make sure you know that,” he said, voice low and soft.

You were practically falling asleep now, face pressing into his shoulder. 

“Tsuki,” you breathed dreamily, “I love you.”

“I love you too dummy.” He kissed the side of your head to punctuate the comment.

Opening the door to your bedroom, he headed to the attached bathroom, kicking the door open with his foot. He didn’t even set you down on the floor, just positioning you on his lap as he sat on the edge of your bath and started the water. He added your favorite bubble bath, and you smiled, thinking about how good he was with the little details of your life, things like your favorite foods and your favorite bubble bath. You were in so deep, and you never wanted to remember what it was like not to be in love with Katsuki Bakugou.

“You need a bath,” he said. “You stink.”

“Awww, what a sweet way of telling me you listen when I complain about my greasy hair, Tsuki,” you teased.

“I listen to everything you say. I have ears, don’t I?”

You giggled, taking off your uncomfortable work clothes. Katsuki watched as you did, helping out here and there when you got caught on a button or when you nearly tripped trying to get out of your ‘professional businesswoman’ pantyhose. Eventually you dipped into the bath, Katsuki kneeling beside the tub.

With gentle motions, he washed your hair, the hands that could be so violent never softer or more careful than when he was touching you. His fingers skimmed across your skin, tracing the contours of your shoulders with greater dedication than the most devout anatomist. He mapped out the shape of your body with soap and tough hands, up to his elbows in water as he helped every weary inch get cleaned up.

You looked up at him, suds framing the shape of his biceps, doing all of this work for you, and felt a surge of love and affection for this man. You wanted to marry him, wanted to have his children and live a long happy life with him.

“How did I get so lucky?” you wondered.

“It’s not luck. You ended up with me because you have great taste,” Katsuki said.

You laughed. “Maybe so. Even still, it isn’t every day you meet someone you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

He paused in his motions.

“You would want that? To be with me? Forever?”

You reached a hand out for his, holding it and giving it a brief squeeze.

“Yeah. Is that...” you faltered. “Is that something you want?”

He shifted forward, leaning over the side of the tub.

“Yes, of course. I’ve wanted to put a ring on your finger so long, you have no idea.” He laughed at himself a little. “Want the whole thing. Want to buy you a big pretty house and take care of you and make it so you never have to spend another second at that stupid job. Want to cook you weird food when you’re pregnant and craving something disgusting, want to cover your baby belly in kisses every day. Want to have kids with you, a family, everything. I want everything.”

Katsuki was unexpectedly wide-eyed and breathless, so earnest in his simple desires. You wanted to give it all to him, have it all with him, live out the whole dream.

“I want that so bad, you have no idea,” you told him.

“You’re going to have it. We’re going to have it. Going to give all of it to you.”

You smiled, and your happiness would have been perfect except the soap bubble that slipped from your hair down your face. You laughed, wiping it away.

“Maybe we should finish with this bath first.”

When you were ready to get out, he wrapped you up in your towel, reminding you of when you were a little kid. Your towel no longer reached to your knees, but there was something comforting about it all the same, like being wrapped in a blanket. He laid you out on your bed, wordlessly reaching for one of his own shirts for you to wriggle over your head and down your body.

When you were done, you pulled him down on top of you where you lay, wet hair carelessly soaking into the sheets. Tilting his chin up with one hand, you pressed your lips to his again and again, like a conversation, an exchanging of words. Each kiss had something different to say, something important, and something the same.

You are so good and kind and I love you. Thank you for taking care of me and I love you. I’m so happy I know you and I love you. You are the best man I have ever met and I love you.

He switched your positions, pulling you on top of him so that you lay more on him than the bed. He kissed you back, loving you with chapped lips and intertwined fingers and something deeper that fluttered through you in the deepness of the night and buzzed through your body at his touch. 

He pulled away to, in a moment of redundancy, say what you had already been saying.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. So much,” you whispered.

He rubbed a hand up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head and easing it down onto his shoulder.

“Rest now.” He kissed your shoulder. “I’ll still love you in the morning.”

[bellesque]

can I request a Loki/reader fan fic where Loki and the reader are dating but their sex has been pretty vanilla because he is worried about hurting or scaring her with his darker dominant side and his strength but one day he discovers she is actually into that and he indulges her wishes please? happy birthday and thank you for this!

Kneel (Loki x Reader)

Read on my AO3.

Summary:

Loki’s a little banged up from battle, you’ve got some very specific (read: dirty) thoughts, and you find that’s all it takes for the God of Mischief to indulge in a few of your fantasies.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings/Tags: Smut (duh), Rough Sex, Wall Sex, Cum Play, Overstimulation, Blow Jobs, Slight Dom/sub Dynamics

A/N: My birthday was on the 12th okay YES I KNOW THIS IS SO LATE but I hope you guys enjoy the first of the three fic requests! Loki kind of just took it his own direction, I’m not sure what happened—anyway, if you guys want a part two to this just let me know hihi okay enjoy!

Tag List: @shiningloki @imnotrevealingmyname @wolfsmom1 @hanyasnape @lukeyirwy @toozmanykids (Tag List is currently open! If you’d like to be a part of it, let me know!)

YOU SHOULDN’T BE lying on your cozy spring mattress, with Loki’s arm sprawled across your waist, entirely comfortable, sated from sex, and yet somehow wide awake.

You should be asleep. As knocked out, if not more, as Loki is right now. His breath comes in even pants behind you, a telling sign of the quality of his current rest. While you’re relaxed and your mind is absolutely prepared for bed, you can’t seem to fall into a state of drowsiness.

There are a few late night musings that currently keep you from it. Mostly about, well, sex.

Not that you’re complaining. Loki’s fantastic in bed. He’s gentle, he’s passionate, he’s nurturing and careful… maybe to a fault.

Again. Not that you’re complaining.

It’s just when you date someone like Loki, a literal god, you expect a little more… spice. A little less nice.

But why the restraint? It baffles you. You can tell he’s holding himself back. When you think Loki’s about to slam into you, bruise your hips with the harsh grip of his fingers, he rocks into you with long, slow strokes, kissing your neck and murmuring how amazing you are.

Again. You’re not complaining.

But you wouldn’t be opposed to a little more… bite. As much as you love his romantic lovemaking, you essentially, well—you want to get fucked.

And you’ve tried to make it happen. On multiple occasions. You wrestled him onto his back once, topping him right in the middle of sex. You were expecting him to put you back in your place, even at least instruct you from his position underneath you, but Loki only let you ride him, unbothered in the least.

Okay, maybe you weren’t clear. Maybe he just thought you wanted to try a new position. Fair, fine—it was only the first attempt, you told yourself.

The second time around, you thought you were a bit clearer with your intentions. You got on all fours, wiggling your ass at him as you arched your back and whispered in a sultry tone, “Come get it, mischief.”

Except he rubbed a palm over your ass once and flipped you right over.

It’s not that you’re undesirable. You know Loki loves you with his whole heart. Your gut tells you that there’s more to the rejection to your advancements than he lets on.

Do you come on too strong?

No, you’re sure you don’t. You got the tiniest taste of the forbidden fruit once and just from that, you just know the desire is somewhere inside him, buried deep.

Oh, that moment. That singular, unrestrained moment gives you shudders until now.

You clenched around his cock particularly hard, and Loki rutted into you with a sharp snap of his hips, burying himself deeper, his teeth biting at your earlobe.

You let out a surprised gasp of pleasure… and that was it.

So what do you have to do to get that moment again, repeated into hours and hours of mindblowing, rough sex?

-- 

(As it turns out, nothing.)

You drape Loki’s arm over your shoulders, doing your best not to buckle under the weight of him. He’s so fucking heavy, and he knows that—instead of putting his weight onto you, he pulls you closer towards him like some kind of reverse crutch. You huff in frustration. “Lean on me.”

“Which would leave us one too many injured. No, thank you.”

You pull on his singed sleeve. “Lean.”

“Can you handle it?” Loki manages to sound amused despite the current grimace on his face.

A flare of annoyance rises in you together with a fleeting thrill. “I-I can handle it,” you say, neck heating up at the double meaning.

He probably doesn’t think much of it. But you—it’s been eating at your subconscious for a consistent few nights now. Especially when you’ve watched him train every day, those lean muscles rippling and covered in a light sheen of sweat, in preparation for today’s battle.

One which you know he lost.

You and Loki are quiet when you enter the Tower in the dead of night. The weight of defeat hangs heavy in the air, and Loki’s stiff and distracted when you enter the elevator and punch in the button to your designated floor. Carefully you maneuver around him, making sure not to brush against any of his bruises and scrapes, and tilt his chin so you can see him in the elevator light.

Loki gazes at you affectionately, some of his previous frustrations now disappearing from the creases in his face. “You’re awfully concerned, little one. Have you forgotten Asgardians heal faster than mortals?”

“Just let me look at you.”

“You’ve looked at me before.”

“I don’t need your smartass mouth right now.” You brush your thumb against the corner of his mouth, noticing a cut running along his top lip. You soften. “What happened?”

Loki exhales, his expression hardening when he turns away. Your hand falls from his face and the elevator dings. Wordlessly you support him as you walk to your room, keeping in step with him and making sure his limp isn’t too bad.

But hell. He’s heavy.

Once you make it inside, you don’t press further—instead you clean his wounds, help him bathe, and make sure he eats and drinks despite his insistent “I’m fine.” You wear him down. It’s part of your charm. It’s what you do best.

Loki holds you after that. Says nothing about the battle of today’s mission, or his scars; he tucks your head under his chin and rubs your back while you listen to the steady beat of his heart until it lulls you into sleep.

 --

“Do you want to see?”

The deep rumble of Loki’s voice makes you stir. You open your eyes, groggy, and peer up at him. From the looks of it, he’s been awake for a while, staring contemplatively at the ceiling.

“What?” you say, a beat late. You admire his face, no matter how stoic he seems right now.

He looks at you. His face has mostly healed, the cut on his lip now a light scar. “What happened.”

You perk up immediately. “Only if you want to. I mean, you can trust me.”

Loki nods, bringing your foreheads together. Instantly you’re a spectator in the middle of battle. The stench of blood and sweat are pungent in the air, the clatter and clang of weapons mixed with battle cries roaring in your ears. There, a few feet away from you, is Loki.

Pride and attraction weave together and swell inside you as you watch Loki in his element. Graceful. Cunning. Strong. Powerful. You’ve seen him fight, but… but not like this.

His opponent moves to punch him—but Loki catches his fist easily. He anticipates it. Doesn’t even flinch. His heels don’t dig into the dirt like his opponent’s do. The scepter in his other hand pulses blue and he kicks it off the ground, using the momentum to swing it into the man’s face.

“Yield,” he growls, shoving the scepter’s blade against the man’s crumpled form.

Ah, fuck—the way you mishear it and think he says kneel doesn’t exactly help your tendency to gravitate towards dirty thoughts. Your pussy clenches as an image of Loki snarling that single word to you flashes in your mind. You see yourself submitting pretty easily, sinking down onto your knees, eyes trained on his Loki’s pleasured face, and—

The room comes back into focus as you’re whipped back to reality. Loki’s staring at you with wide, curious eyes. Near disbelief, pulled with slight awe.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

His beautiful green eyes darken, a smirk stretching across his lips. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and your heart slams against your ribcage as Loki slowly rolls on top of you, pinning you beneath him.

“I saw… while our minds were connected…” He laughs in a short, breathy kind of way, head falling on your shoulder and nipping at your collarbone. A sharp spike of arousal courses within you. “Oh, sweet, is that what you want? For me to ask you to…” He brings his mouth against your ear, dropping his voice to a seductive purr. “Kneel?”

A shudder slides down your spine.

“Or perhaps”—he trails the tip of his tongue around the helix of your ear—“a command.” Loki bites down on your earlobe, quick and sharp and hard, and heat pools like molten lava in your center. “Kneel.”

Your head is spinning. How is it that you’re so turned on already?

Loki shoves a hand between your legs and you whimper. His fingers hook at your damp underwear, pulling it to the side and trailing a finger along your seam.

“Look at how excited you are,” he breathes. “Already so wet, my love?”

You release a shaky exhale. “Loki…”

He pushes himself off you, but not before he whispers, “Turn around and take your clothes off,” in a rough voice.

Your throat feels like it’s dry and watering at the same time, anticipation rushing into you like a waterfall. You flip over, kneeling on the bed—you hope to be kneeling in front of him soon—and shuck off your pajamas.

Once you’re naked, you’re about to ask Loki what to do next—but without warning, he pushes you down, and you fall forward with a faint squeak as he straddles you from behind. You feel his strong, bare chest heaving against your back, his hard length throbbing between your butt cheeks.

Oh, he’s heavy—in more sinful ways than one.

“You’re going to kneel for me later, little one,” he says, his breath warm against your nape. He positions your arms overhead, your fingertips grazing the headboard. He runs his palms along the outside of your body, until his hands close around your hips.

And then he yanks your bodies up, your hips rolling backwards into the air while your torso remains flattened on the mattress. Loki pushes a knee between your legs and nudges them apart, and you suck in a breath you didn’t know was knocked out of you. He rubs his large palms against the side of your ass cheek.

“Will you follow when I instruct you, pet?” He slaps your ass, hard, the meat of it jiggling even after his palm connects to you.

You bite down on your lip. “Yes.”

“Good.” He smacks your ass again, that same intensity as earlier, and you whimper from the pleasurable sting.

“Do you like that, pet?” He rubs circles over your ass.

“Yes—”

He deals another blow, and you arch your back further. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Loki, yes!”

A satisfied growl emerges from the back of his throat, and hooking his forearm over your torso he brings your back against him. His hand finds its way onto your breast, which he kneads and squeezes, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

He bites down on your neck when your head falls back against him, sucking on your sensitive spot and drawing moan after moan from you. Your body is extremely warm now, the need to be stuffed with his cock growing, but at the same time, you want to savor this moment. You don’t know how long Loki’s going to play this game with you.

He releases the skin of your neck with a quiet pop. “Get on the floor, sweet,” he rasps, “kneel for me.”

With your thighs trembling, you crawl to the floor, obediently awaiting him with your chest heaving. Loki slides off the bed, standing in front of you, his cock at your eye level. He’s so hard, veins traversing over his thick shaft that throbs ever so slightly.

You want it in your mouth.

Loki rakes his fingers through your hair and guides your head onto his cock. Your lips slide over him slowly, taking in his length until the head hits the back of your throat.

You hollow your lips and suck once, and Loki hisses.

His grip on your hair tightens considerably, trying to get you to swallow him deeper, and you do until you gag a little. Loki stiffens, and you place your hands on his hips and brush his sides slowly, trying to convey that you’re okay.

And then he’s actively guiding you by the hair, cock sinking into your mouth in a steady tempo while he alternates between stroking your hair and neck.

“That’s it. Good girl. Deeper, love,” he husks, hips moving gently in time with you. He looks down at you with desire written all over his face. “Suck my cock. You’re doing so well. Faster. Ah—your mouth is exquisite, pet, come now… milk my cock, make me cum…”

You hum against him, your tongue fluttering against his frenulum, and Loki curses, hips moving faster while you bob on his length. Your tongue swirls around the head when you pull back and you suction your lips at the base of his cock, and soon Loki’s holding your head in place, your jaw going slack as he jerks into your wanting mouth.

You can tell he’s close, and your wetness intensifies when you visualize his cum sliding down your throat.

But then… then he’s pulling out of your mouth and pushing your head back when he pulses with the telltale sign of release. Instead of cumming in your mouth, his seed shoots out in thick ropes over your chin and chest as he groans out his orgasm.

You scramble forward after admiring the spurt of his cum from so close, and you wrap your lips around his cock before he can finish cumming, sucking on him with newfound vigor. He groans again, fisting your hair even tighter, keeping you in place while you flutter your tongue against the ridges of his cock head. You swallow his load, and some if it dribbles down your chin and onto your breasts.

You know he’s watching you, and in the spirit of being bold while you have this chance, you do something bold. You look up at him through lidded eyes, and using your fingers to scoop up some of the cum on your chest, you bring it to your face. You pop off him and slide your cum-covered fingersinto your mouth sensually. You suck and lick your digits, keeping innocent eye contact, and watch his eyes darken.

“You’re a cum thirsty little slut, aren’t you?” he growls, collecting his cum on his fingers and shoving them into your mouth. “Suck. That’s it, like it’s my cock.”

Your pussy is aching for attention now, your body taut with arousal, and you suck on his fingers like your life depends on it. “You taste so good, Loki,” you whisper. “I just want to be filled by your cock. Your cum. Loki, please, give it to me…”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and hoists you up by the nape of your neck like it’s easy. Oh fuck, his intensity and his strength are dizzying. He throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and he smacks your ass.

From this position, you have a clear view of his glutes. And his muscled back. You reach down and just give a tiny squeeze—

He slaps your ass again as he walks you two to the side of the room. “You think you can speak out of turn, little one? Touch my body without my express permission?” He sets you down on your feet with surprising, firm gentleness, and pins you against the wall by the window. “You’re lucky I want to be inside your pussy right now,” he mutters before sealing his lips over yours in a blistering kiss, tongues battling as his hands grope and squeeze at every part of your body. After he sucks on your tongue and leaves you panting and lightheaded, he distances from you to spin you around so your front is to the wall.

He bites down on your shoulder as his cock slips into you and you cry out in pleasure.

“Hands up,” he orders, and you brace your arms against the wall as he pounds into you from behind with unrelenting speed.

You moan, fingers clawing at the wall, trying to find something to ground yourself to. “Loki, your cock, it’s perfect—fuck, Loki, cum inside me, once, twice, fill my fucking cunt—”

He pushes your feet farther apart and lifts you up slightly, the angle causing stars to explode behind your eyes. “Fuck!”

His own hand comes up to brace against the wall beside yours, and he drives deeper into you still. Somehow. “You want my cum, pet? You want to be filled so much that my cum drips out of this delicious cunt for hours?”

Your pussy clenches around him as your orgasm begins to build with a ferocious intensity. Your closed eyes snap open when there’s a noticeable cracking sound by your head.

Cracks spider out on the wall from where his fist is. And that… that single revelation, evidence of his strength, is enough to topple you over and into orgasm.

“Touch yourself,” Loki grunts suddenly, his hands clasping around your wrist and shoving it between your legs.

“I—” you gasp, a shudder wracking your body as your orgasm pulses, “I’m still—”

“Do it.”

You swallow, shaking fingers finding your clit and you rub yourself in rapid circles; Loki hasn’t slowed his pace one bit, and from the overstimulation it doesn’t take long until you’re cumming again.

“That’s it,” Loki coaxes, your toes rising off the floor with every strong, unyielding thrust, “cum all over my cock. Good girl.”

With his cock still inside you, he brings you towards the bed, feet off the floor. He maneuvers you so you twist on his cock and your chests are pressed together. Your back meets the soft mattress and you look up at Loki hovering above you. One of Loki’s hands is braced on the headboard; the other circles your clit lazily. Your mouth stays parted as you stare up at him with glassy, sex-sated eyes.

“Loki…” you say, weak. You feel like jelly, but you aren’t exactly ready to give up the euphoric state of bliss you’re in. “You… you can go even harder—if, if you want to.”

His movements slow to a stop and his eyes fill with quiet adoration. “Are you sure that’s what you want, sweet? I never want to hurt you, or scare you, with my strength.” He manages a small though equally sexy smirk. “And I am a very strong Asgardian as it is.”

You clench, bringing Loki deeper inside you, and he groans. “As hard as you want,” you affirm.

Loki’s eyes widen imperceptibly and his pupils dilate in the same millisecond. And then he’s kissing you fiercely, shoving your knees up over his shoulders and he bottoms out, both of you moaning at the sensation.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you almost can’t hear it. His hips are then slamming into you at breakneck speed. He pins your arms above your head, sucking another bruise into your neck at the same time. The sounds of your sex obscenely fill the room, your already swollen, overstimulated clit stimulated even further with every stroke, and soon you’re screaming hoarsely that you’re about to cum.

Your third—fourth, fifth?—orgasm unravels when you start gyrating as he thrusts into you, your body convulsing with the pleasure that shoots through you. Loki cums seconds later with a shout, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses inside you. He murmurs dirty nothings against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses in between.

He pulls out of you, nuzzling your neck, and his hand travels down towards your spent cunt. He spreads your juices across your swollen lips. “How are you, dove?”

“Never been better,” you slur, letting out a relaxed sigh. It’s true. It’s like a nagging itch has finally been scratched.

“Are you sure about that?”

Your eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”

Loki grins, dark mischief and desire clouding his eyes. “Quite bold of you, pet, to assume we’re finished.”

He flips you onto your stomach again, his cock hardening behind you as he pulls your arms toward the headboard. There’s a click and the gleam of a metal chain shines in the morning sun.

Loki presses a kiss to your neck, nibbling at the spot behind your ear and whispers something that makes your skin tingle with fresh arousal.

“I’m far from finished with you, pet. Now. On your knees.”

[flying-nightwing]

Throne of Blood (3/3)

Hello there! Last part of Throne of Blood, I hope you appreciated this little serie! I loved t write it tbh, it was a nice change from the usual DC stuff I write. If you want a bonus chapter, let me know! I thought about doing either a prequel for when they invaded the castle, or some headcanons if y’all have some.

Ps: I realised I kinda made Bruce to be the bad guy here, oops. Sorry about that, but to my defence, family drama was something I built toward from the beginning 😅 Full disclosure, I have nothing against Bruce and Damian pls don’t come at me

Masterlist in bio / pinned!

Pairing: King!Jason x reader x Roy

Word count: 4414

Warnings: same as the last parts (cautious nsfw) + family drama lmao

"--and the might of the casc… cascade could never compare to the ce… cerul… cerulean of her eyes. She was his hope, the only thing he cherished, none of his posse...ssions could ever be worth as much as a minute with her"

You paused to breathe as you reached a paragraph break. You could feel Roy's relaxed stare on you, a small smile ever present on his lips. His hand was absentmindedly rubbing your knees that were lying over his thigh, while his other arm was snugly wrapped around your waist. The quiet crackling of the fireplace indicated the need to add a log, but neither of you wanted to move from your nestled position. Eventually one would have to, though, before the room grew cold. 

"I like it when you read to me" Roy hummed, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. But if you knew one thing about him, it's that he carried very little shame when it came to love. He would never intend to hide his thoughts when they came, and you admired that about him. Still, you couldn't help but look down in embarrassment. 

Him and Jason had taught you to read some months after you joined them, when he passed you a map to find a town's name and you had to tell him you couldn't. Ever since, you worked often on your reading skills, leafing through whatever seemed interesting from Jason's library. But you weren't a natural, far from it. 

"I can't even pronounce all the words correctly" You mumbled. "It must be hard to follow sometimes"

He gently pushed your chin up so he could look into your eyes again. It didn't matter for one second for him that you didn't have the diction of an erudit or the flow of a poet. All he wanted was to hear your voice and watch your eyebrows knit in concentration when you butted on a difficult word. He liked the little things so much better than the finished product.

"I think it sounds perfect"

The corner of your lips rose slightly at his praise as your heart skipped a few beats. Even after all the time you spent together, he always managed to find the right word to make you love him even more, if it was possible. His constant and unconditional support was your crutch, the thing you could rely on no matter what happened, the safe space in which you would never feel judged for what you couldn't do. 

"You know" He began again when he noticed you had trouble believing what he said. You wanted to believe him, but deep inside he knew it was harder for you, and he understood all too well the feeling of not being enough. "I couldn't read either before I was taken in by my warden"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning slightly. You had never known. 

"Took me years to get average at it. And you should have seen my writing-- Hell, you should see it now, it's catastrophic" 

You couldn't help but giggle along as he laughed. It was contagious.

"It's the same with Jason--No wait, the brat actually taught himself how to read somehow" He blinked slowly, like he was still surprised by it. You weren't really, you knew Jason was even smarter than you were aware of. Than anyone was aware of. "But his writing was terrible until he got a proper tutor, that I know of for a fact"

"But his writing is so…" You trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Exquisite"

"Now who's pulling out the big words, uh?"

"Shut up" You laughed, lightly hitting his chest with the book. “Don’t mock me”

“I’m not!” He argued, giving you wide, innocent eyes. He looked too cute for his own sake. “I swear I’m not. You’re just adorable when you get all flustered”

“We better start gearing up now” You evaded the subject, clearing your throat. “Jason will be expecting us--”

“Just one more chapter” He interrupted softly, caressing your waist. “Please?”

You held his stare for a moment before you were convinced, and you nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. You opened the book to the page you had marked and found the paragraph you had stopped to. 

“As he was sitting by the window, he couldn’t help but think about the ar-arrival of the spring, only a few weeks away if nature de...cided to be kind--”

“My Lord, my Lady” 

You paused your reading and looked up. This time, it was Roy who looked the most annoyed of the two of you. 

“It’s time”

You sighed and nodded, putting down the book on the table. Roy was clearly disappointed, but he helped you nevertheless get back on your feet, being careful not to pull on your bandages too much. You were healing well for your condition, you could now walk around and sit down without much help. Still, Roy and Jason didn’t like the idea of leaving you on your own for too long, just in case someone tried to come for you. You definitely couldn’t wield your axes just yet, so it made you an easy target even if you weren’t bed ridden anymore. 

You walked out of the chamber beside Roy, him following your slower pace without complaint. You reached the other end of the hallways and entered another room with chests and racks, where your equipment was kept. You began putting on your suit, the one you had made when you rode beside the Red Hood, well before he was king. It was all black with a red pointed arch on the chest that imitated Jason’s sigil, which was outlined with a single silver following your collarbone. It rose up the back of your neck and was reinforced to protect your vitals. 

“Could you help me pull it up, please?”

Roy nodded as he finished to lace his arm braces, stepping right behind you. He picked the stiff fabric and gently tugged it over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin along the way. He was even more careful with your injured shoulder, making sure it wasn’t bent in any way to fit through the suit. He and Jason had advised against you wearing it, but you were stubborn and refused to show weakness in front of the enemy. Besides, it looked great on you. Roy then buttoned up the suit on your back and up your neck before giving you a kiss on the temple. 

“Close your eyes, I’ve got a little something for you” He whispered in your eyes, and despite your initial confusion, you did as you were told and shut your eyes. You felt something being passed over your head and gently rest on your shoulders, then straps being adjusted on your sides. “You can open the now”

You did as he said and looked down as he gently directed you to the mirror on your left. He had placed a beautiful piece of equipment that paired well with the colors of your suit, lightweight and practical, that covered your shoulders front and back. You usually went without, but it was appropriate considering another arrow in the back would do you no good right now. And since you most probably wouldn’t be using your axes anyway, you could do without your full shoulder movements range. 

“Where did you get this?” You asked as you trailed your finger on the skillfully crafted metal. There was no doubt it had been made for you by how it fit with both your body and suit. It must have cost a fortune.

“The blacksmith in town, the one living near the gates of the castle” He began. “His son was killed by the guild of thieves that lived uptown, the ones we wiped off right after the undertaking. He wanted to thank us somehow, and when he learned about what happened to you, he made this as a present”

“It’s… Very beautiful” You breathed out. “I’ll have to thank him later on. This must have taken so much time to make”

“But you deserve it” He said as he placed a light kiss on your jaw. “You deserve the best. And the best suits you”

“Thank you” You nodded, taking his hand. The leather of his archery glove was rough against your skin, but it had also become a comfort born from the endless days you spent training and hunting on the road. It was tied to some of your best memories with him, and it still amazed you how a simple touch could bring it all back vividly like that. “Come on, Jason must be waiting for us”

You went down to the court, where Jason was talking with the commander and some generals. Upon hearing your footsteps, he perked up and turned around, taking you specifically in. He smiled and nodded, heading for the three black steeds, groomed and in full armor, in the hands of the stable hands. You followed him and grabbed the reins of your mount, carefully climbing on its back and sitting in the saddle.

“Are we ready?” Jason asked.

“Of course” Roy replied first, then both of their eyes set on you.

“Let’s do this” You nodded firmly.

With a kick of your heels, you took off the court and onto the bridge, in the direction of the Wayne Kingdom.

---

“Soooooo…” Roy trailed off. “Do you think he stood us up or..?”

You looked away from the horizon and to Roy, who was slouched over the pommel of the saddle while his horse was trying to dig for grass through the snow. “Maybe he’s trying to ambush us”

“I don’t think so” Jason mumbled, his eyes still set northwest. His back was straight with a hand resting on his hips, the other holding the reins tight. His horse was attentive, chewing on its bit in anticipation. “It wouldn’t be like him, not while we’re on this hill anyway” 

You nodded as your fingers flexed around the reins, a bit bored and definitely not impressed by the opposite party being late to their own meeting. There was barely any wind over the field, and the thick cover of the cloud didn’t let the sun rays through. Still, smoke came out of the horses’ nostrils with every breath they let out. 

“There they come”

You glanced forward again at Jason’s warning, seeing a small party of riders coming your way. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, walking rather than trying to reach you at a trot. The closer they came, the better you could point out characteristics for each rider. The one at the front was wearing all black with a cape that fell over the pale gray horse he was riding. It was almost white, but the dark skin around its eyes and nose proved differently. The second rider was on a smaller chestnut horse, and was a child. You blinked a few times, but his youthful features were obvious. The two other riders some paces behind were an escort, soldiers with steel armors and banners from their kingdom. 

After a long waiting for them to actually be at hearing range, they finally stopped a few meters ahead and assessed your party. Jason was visibly tense, but his blue eyes gave nothing out on how he was feeling about seeing his father in front of him after all this time. They stared at each other for long minutes before the piercing glance of Bruce Wayne set on you. You clenched your jaw, not backing down, until his eyes finally left you. 

“Your… Friend seems to have healed quite well” The older king spoke first.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck” Jason sneered. “You were the one who made this coward attack on her happen in the first place”

“Watch your mouth, runt” The child on the side almost barked. “You’re speaking to a legitimate King, unlike you”

“And who the fuck might this goblin be?” Roy said before he could stop himself. While the child looked appalled, Roy was still very relaxed on his horse. He might have been the only one to be, even if you did want to laugh at the outburst.

“I am the blood son, the true heir to the throne” He replied with all his might, except it didn’t quite have the desired effect, since he was on a pony, for one. “You peasant will respect me, or--”

“Damian, please” Bruce interrupted firmly. “Now is not the time to settle this”

“But--”

“Why am I not surprised that you fathered a brat?” Jason leaned forward, feeling taunting for a moment. “Which one of your concubines had enough bad luck to get pregnant? Selina? Or was it Richard’s lover, whatever was her name? Or maybe Talia, oh memorable Talia--”

“Don’t speak of my mother that way” Damian pulled his sword out. 

“So Talia it is” He smirked. 

“We are here to negotiate peace, not fuel a war” Bruce replied sternly. “I can do much worse than an arrow in the shoulder of a loved one, you know it. So be careful what you’re advancing about my family”

“Then keep your son on a tighter leash” Jason said, his face returning to a serious expression. “I still haven’t made my mind about keeping peace, don’t give me reasons to leave this meeting before we can discuss it”

“I should be telling you this” He squinted his eyes slightly. “You have thrown over a stable ally of this kingdom and stole the crown, then taken prisoner the King of Blüdhaven without giving a follow up on his state. You are in no place to threaten a war, yet here you are”

Jason waited a few seconds, not letting his stare waver. Then, he sighed and whistled. The plains were silent, until the faint sound of hooves cantering on the crisp snow grew closer to your position. Soon enough, you were passed on your left by another rider, slowly walking around you and toward Bruce’s party. Dick had a neutral expression as he turned around, stopping at Bruce’s side.

“Here” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Your golden son, unharmed albeit slightly vexed”

“You should still pay for a crime like this” Bruce said.

“It’s fine” Dick tried to appease the tensions. “I do not wish to further this conflict, I have done enough already as it is”

“Why didn’t you fight back, Richard?” Damian asked in a judging and accusatory tone. “This is a disgrace to our family, and a display of weakness--”

“I was trying to avoid a much worse escalation of this conflict by owning a diplomatic mistake I made in the first place” He bit back. “What would you even know of politics, spoiled child?”

Roy laughed, and the sound only seemed to anger Damian more. You were in the middle of a family conflict, and unlike him, you didn’t know this side of the family well. You didn’t really know how to act, so you observed what would go down rather than actively participate. 

“I find the ginger man’s insolence unwelcomed in this matter” Damian said, trying to wash down the humiliation his brother had just handed to him. “He’s got nothing to do with it, and he’s got no title. He shouldn’t even be speaking”

“He speaks because I say he can” Jason defended Roy in a heartbeat, his tone strong and authoritative. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got a crown and you don’t, which puts me above you in status and therefore my wishes outweigh yours”

Your eyebrow rose slowly as your eyes met Roy’s, who had an equally stunned expression. Jason had never used his status against anyone like that. It even seemed to take Damian by surprise, which was, with what you had learned about him in the last minutes, a hard feat to accomplish. If you were honest with yourself, while you loved Jason as a humble king, you were curious about the other side of him, even if he would show it in private.

“Your crown was stolen” Bruce reassessed. “The Kingdoms surrounding yours have decided this gesture would not stand. I wished a peaceful surrender from you, but it doesn’t seem like I will convince you to do so. You have three days to abdicate, until the next full moon, or your kingdom will be taken back by force”

“You think this is wise?” You finally spoke up on instinct, and all eyes turned to you, looking at you with surprise. You weren’t about to let those threats stand, especially not from Bruce. “Ever since King Jason came into power, he wiped out a guild that stole from families and murdered good people. Our kingdom is the safest for miles around, so much we get waves of new settlers even in winter. He lowered taxes on the population so much that most towns in the country have become flourishing trade posts in the span of a year, and instead taxed the nobility and cut on useless balls and dinners. Nobody starved last winter, and nobody is starving this one. Do you think the word didn’t get out to the other countries around? People are starting to want this for themselves too, and you think putting them through a devastating war will make things better? It will only make them resent you, those who didn’t already. We have people in every castle you know of who are ready to turn against you the second they get wind of aggression--”

“Bullshit” Damian called.

“Are you ready to take the risk?” You raised an eyebrow at him, before returning your glance to Bruce, who betrayed no emotion. “You will lose this war if you start it. You should consider your people before you send them to slaughter”

Silence fell over the hill for a moment.

“... What she said” Roy grinned, breaking the silence.

Bruce looked at Jason for a reaction, or most likely, some sort of opposition to what you had just said. Instead, he only readjusted his reins and straightened his back. “You heard right,” He said, not wavering. “You have three days, until the next moon, to annulate the warrants and back down. Think about your people, Bruce. Make the right decision”

With that mocking reprise of his father’s previous words, he turned his horse around and left him dumbfounded. With one last glance to their party, you followed Jason, trotting, then cantering away and back into your borders. Once you passed your soldiers’ road control, you slowed down to a walk.

“Huh” Roy exhaled as he leaned forward to glance at you over Jason’s horse between you two. “I didn’t know we had spies in other kingdoms”

“Now that I think about it,” Jason blinked a few times, his brows slightly furrowed. “Neither did I”

You shrugged. “Maybe we have them. That would be neat” 

You saw confusion, then astonishment flash in their eyes like their reactions were synchronized.

“Wait, did you just--”

“Did you fucking lie to Bruce in his face?” Roy cut off, almost yelling. Then, he laughed. “In his face?”

“By the time he realizes, no, if he even realizes I bluffed, we’ll have a solid plan to ward him off, no matter what he does” You explained. “We win”

“How did you manage to convince him?” Jason had an innocent incomprehension written all over his features, like a child in front of a magic trick. He was adorable. “You had me convinced”

“Oh, boys” You grinned. “You think women survive this long in the world without becoming excellent liars? How do you think I managed to infiltrate the staff for a week before we invaded the castle?”

“By… Um” Roy trailed off. “Cleaning well?”

You laughed. “People had questions, my dear. I had to build myself a credible life to feed them, so I wasn’t thrown out of the castle instantly. Lying to the enemy is a skill I learned to cultivate a long time ago”

“You’re awesome, you know that?” He sighed, a loopy smile on his face. Jason still had a starstruck expression on his face, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, I must admit” You teased back, jutting your chin up. “But there is one thing that would be better… Last one in the bedroom owes the first one a shoulder massage”

You didn’t wait for them to register your words before kicking your horse to a gallop, no doubt closely followed by them.

---

The dancing light of the candles of the chandelier left a soft glow on your naked skin, moving around and spreading warmth as it crawled up and down your body. You were sitting upright as hands moved gently on your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive area of your still healing wound. In your laps was Jason’s head, your hands threading slowly in his black hair as his eyes were shut close. He wasn’t sleeping, his breathing made his chest rise too fast for him to be. But he was relaxed, his neck muscles were untensed on your legs and there were no harsh lines on his face. 

You looked behind you when Roy’s hand stopped massaging, pulling your hair to the side and kissing the back of your neck. 

“You really gotta get a faster horse” Your lips curved upwards. “You’re always losing these races”

“I think my horse’s speed is just fine” He whispered back. “Besides, you are both right where I want you to be”

Jason smirked. “Losing is always suddenly part of someone’s plan when they never win”

“Laugh all you want” He sighed, dramatically laying down on his side beside you, then leaning forward close to Jason’s ear. “We all know I end up winning anyway when you beg my name like a prayer, My King”

You could feel the shiver travel up his spine on your laps, as well as the sudden shift in the tension in his muscles. You played along and let your hand slightly pull his hair, which surprised a moan out of him. His eyes opened wide, the blue of his irises being quickly consummated by the black of his pupils. Then, his glance set on Roy, something hard to read beside the promising spark in it.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a, what, fourth go at it today?” He raised an eyebrow as his hand brushed his cheek. “I didn’t think you jaw recovered from earlier”

You laughed airily as Roy grinned mischievously. “Maybe you can take that voice when you put that brat child in its place” You suggested as you trailed up your hand up Jason’s bare chest. “I’m sure he would be happy to get back on his knees if you did”

Roy groaned at the suggestion, already imagining the whole scene behind his fluttering eyelids. However, Jason didn’t quite follow up on his reaction. “Don’t tempt me with…” He trailed off, then noticed the mood change. “Hey, is there something wrong?”

Jason blinked, then shook his head and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine” He muttered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roy’s lips. 

“No, something’s bothering you” He insisted gently. “What is it, Jay?”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing” He replied, looking up to the ceiling. “Don’t worry about it”

“It’s clearly not nothing” You said as your hands threaded softly in his hair. “What’s eating at you?”

A silence followed your words. It was like Jason was searching for the right words, like he wanted to say it so bad but something else was holding him back. You were patient, however, and you didn’t mind that he took his time to tell you. You knew he would talk when he’s ready.

“It’s what Bruce said” Roy beat him to it, speaking barely over a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

You looked in between the two men, noticing how Jason did not deny Roy’s words. It was like they were having a silent conversation for a few seconds, before Roy put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s how he didn’t see him as part of his family anymore” Roy spoke up, addressing you this time. “How Bruce didn’t seem to have any regret about replacing him in any way possible”

“Even after all this time” Jason gulped. “He won’t even stop reminding me he didn't care”

“Oh, my love” You reached for his hand and grabbed it, intertwining your fingers with his and giving it a squeeze. “He doesn’t deserve you beating yourself up about him like that. You’re worth so much more than anything he could even give you”

“She’s right,” Roy nodded. “We’re your family now, not him. Not him ever again. And I promise you we’ll never betray you that way, we’ll never set you aside. You’re our lover, you’re our King, you’re the most important person for us, and we would do anything for you”

You could see the crystal gleam of tears pooling in his eyes before he blinked them away, resisting the urge to break down. Jason had not often known true affection until he met Roy, then you. He felt like he didn’t deserve either of you, and sometimes he wondered why exactly you decided everyday to stay by his side. But you did stay, you did support him and guided him when he needed it. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near where he was right now without you. 

“You’re both so good to me” He whispered, adoration clear in his voice as he glanced at you, then Roy. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be wonderful either way” You smiled as you slipped beside him, careful not to pull on your bandages. Soon enough, Roy joined him on the other side, snuggling into him. “You’d miss on major cuddling, however”

His chest rose in a silent chuckle as he pulled you and Roy just a little bit closer. “Give yourselves more credit, I’d crash and burn without you both by my side”

“Let’s not bother with what ifs, yeah?” Roy replied, his lips curved upward as he kissed his shoulder. “It only matters that you’re here with us today, and that you are a damn good King. The rest doesn’t matter”

“The rest doesn’t matter” Jason repeated in a mutter, nodding lightly. “Only you. Only us” 

[silkling]

Falsely Accused: Revelations

Prowl leapt to the side, hissing as neglected joints protested a movement that had once been as natural to him as breathing was to an organic. His leg gave out, and he fell to one knee. Wing’s blade stopped micrometers from his throat cables. It hovered there for a beat, then the larger mech swung it around his back and sheathed it. He knelt next to the fallen mechling, frowning.

“Prowl?” he said gently.

He released a shuddering vent, then pushed himself up. Prowl had had regular fuel and recharge for the past quadricycle since he’d accepted Wing’s offer. He wasn’t better yet, and wouldn’t be in top shape until he saw a medic, but already the food and rest was helping him. He’d need a repaint desperately, but being able to use the ship’s washracks had gone a long way in making him look better, appearance wise. He’d rested for the past few orns, but then this morning he’d asked Wing if they could spar. The jet had carefully agreed. So far, he wasn’t doing so well.

“Prowl?” Wing asked again.

“I’m fine.” he said, forcing himself up. Wing followed. “Let’s keep going.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes I’m certain!”

Wing frowned at the harsh reply, and Prowl recoiled. “I’m sorry.” he said. “I just-“

“I understand.” Wing said soothingly. “I just don’t want you stressing yourself too much. There is time, Prowl. You don’t need to recover immediately.”

“You don’t even know what I’m trying to recover from.”

“No.” he agreed. “But I know it was bad, and I know it has weighed on you and hurt you. I know you need to let yourself recover naturally, or you will only hurt yourself more.”

The mechling was still, gaze directed at the ground. After a moment, he nodded. “I…understand. But I want to continue. I want to know how much I’ve lost. Please.”

Ah. So that was it, Wing realized. His spark ached in sympathy for the hurting Praxian. He wanted to figure out how far his skills had dropped since…well, Wing knew. He didn’t want to tell Prowl, but he was sure he had a decent idea.

“Alright.” he agreed. “A little bit more today, and then you need to rest and recover. We’re currently headed for an old friend of mine. He’s a Neutral medic. He’ll help you. Once you’ve been properly seen to and physically recovered more, then we can start with your training.”

Prowl looked at him, then nodded slowly. Prowl had already told him they were heading to a medic first, so that wasn’t new information, but it seemed he appreciated being told what to expect until then and after it.

“Good.” Wing smiled, keeping his EM field soothing and calm. Then he stepped back, slipping into an easy stance and deciding to forgo his blade. “Ready yourself.”

Prowl slipped into an easy stance, and Wing moved. He went in for a chest strike, but the slim mech danced away in a smooth two-step maneuver. On the second step, his weight shifted and he was sliding underneath the white jet, coming up straight and spinning in the same movement that he lashed out with a servo. Wing smoothly ducked and rolled on his heels away from the attack, then dipped low under the Praxian’s arms and came up on his right side, and lashed out with a palm aimed at the side of his helm.

He fully expected the mechling to see the strike coming and dodge. He wasn’t moving fast, and the hit wasn’t even a very hard one. It would be easy to move away from. So he was very surprised when his palm made contact, and the Praxian stumbled, legs buckling and sending him to his knees.

Wing was kneeling beside him in an instant, one servo on his shoulder to steady him and the other reaching for the newly-cracked visor. It had already been old, so he wasn’t surprised he’d damaged it by mistake. Before his fingers could touch it, Prowl was gripping his wrist, his field flaring with panic. Wing paused, and his helm tilted.

He had a feeling he knew what this was about. He strongly suspected that Prowl’s right optic was damaged. Most likely something he’d sustained during….well, Wing was fairly certain he knew when it had happened.

If he had to guess, the optic itself was likely broken, or damaged in a way that threw off Prowl’s depth perception or ability to distinguish shapes. It’d explain why he acted like he did. He had noticed how the younger cyber-ninja didn’t like anyone on his right side, and if he could he always put himself close to a wall, with the wall to his right. He never let a mech out of his left side. Wing was certain there was something wrong. He just needed to know exactly what.

“Prowl.” he soothed. “I need to see. We’re going to a medic now, and Blades will want to know how damaged your optic is if he’s going to be able to fix it.”

Prowl tensed. “It’s not damaged. I just don’t like mechs reaching for my face.”

“Oh? Is that why you never let someone on your right side?”

Prowl was silent.

“Prowl.” Wing said, voice soft. “I need to know. It needs repair, and depending on the damage level it might affect how I go about your training. I promise, I won’t hurt you. But I need to know, mechling.” he murmured.

Prowl stared, and then his grip on the jet’s wrist loosened and dropped. Wing reached forward, and carefully slid the visor off. He dropped his optics to it, setting it by Prowl’s knee, and then his gaze rose to his newest student’s face.

He froze.

Oh, Primus. It was worse than he thought.

Prowl’s right optic was black, like a dead mech’s.

Wing had seen this before, but never with optics. Sometimes,a Cybertronian was hurt severely enough, usually in one of their limbs, that the wires and circuitry and connections that linked that limb to the processor stopped transmitting or processing any energy or form of life. The limb, in those scenarios, would essentially die. The only fix was to amputate, replace all the dead wires and connections, and attach a new limb. Unfortunately, that was an operation with a very, very low success rate. It was almost like, in those cases, the connection at the processor itself was dead. Wing knew that there was no medic who could fix Prowl’s optic. No one who might be skillful enough would be willing to even try. The optics were already delicate enough to replace, but to replace the connections and circuitry between it and his processor…there was too much risk. This wasn’t the type of optic injury that could be fixed by removing the damaged one and giving him a new one.

Prowl was half-blind, and would be for the rest of his life.

“Oh, Prowl….” he breathed, his servo cupping the mechling’s face, his thumb swiping under the black, sightless optic that should have been a twin for the lovely blue one shining bright from the left side of Prowl’s face.

“Don’t.” he choked.

“Don’t what?” Wing asked.

“Don’t…” he trailed off, then started again. “I don’t want pity.” He spat the word like it was a curse.

“Prowl, no.” Wing said, aching inside for the broken mechling in front of him. “It’s not pity. It’s…” he shook his helm. “It’s grief, Prowl.” He fought to keep it from his voice. The Praxian needed his strength right now. “I’m grieving for you.”

“…why?” He didn’t seem defensive anymore, just tired. Tired and confused. It hurt Wing to know a mech so young was so wary of any form of kindness.

“Because it’s not right, Prowl.” he said gently. “An injury like that…it doesn’t happen on accident. Someone did that to you.” He squeezed his shoulder, gaze soft and sad. “You didn’t deserve this, Prowl. You deserved so much better.”

“You don’t even know what happened.”

“No.” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” When Prowl’s gaze dropped, Wing moved his servo from his cheek to his chin, tipping his face up. “Do you hear me, Prowl?” he asked gently. “You deserved better.”

The Praxian stared, his single working optic overbright and shining. His vents hitched, and Wing’s resolve to wait for Prowl to come to him for assurance crumbled. He tugged the mechling into his chest, guiding his helm to rest in the crook of his neck. Prowl was stiff for a moment, and then he sagged and started shaking. He didn’t make a noise, aside from the hitching of his vents, but Wing would feel the wetness gather where his face was pressed.

The ninja master sat there, holding the crying mechling who had never once been told that he hadn’t deserved his fate, and tilted his helm up. Primus was a cruel master sometimes, he thought ruefully. Their Creator had infinite kindness and love, but there were times where he simply forgot to direct his attention to those who needed it the most.

Wing shifted his gaze when he sensed a presence by the door of the ship’s small training room, finding Drift standing there. His older student stared, a knowing look in his optics, and bowed his helm before turning to leave. Drift would know what to do. After all, it had once been him in Prowl’s position, though then there had been no senior student to step in.

Eventually, the injured mechling tired himself out, his frame going limp as his exhausted, overtaxed systems forced him into recharge. Wing shifted him, one servo grabbing his visor, and then he was lifting him into his arms and standing up. He carried Prowl to his room, setting him on the berth and putting the visor on the nightstand. He carefully tugged the blankets up around his sleeping student, then headed to the door.

He paused before he left the room, casting a glance at the cracked visor. They were near a space-port. They could dock for a groon or two so Wing could send Drift to purchase a new visor. With how tired Prowl was, he likely would sleep all through the stop anyway.

Prowl shifted in his sleep, rolling to curl up on his side, and Wing smiled fondly before he left the room and let the door slide shut behind him. That could come later. Right now, Prowl needed his rest.

——————————

When Prowl woke, he was confused. It took him a moment to realize why he was in his berth, and then the memories hit. His optic onlined slowly, and he sat up. His blanket fell, pooling around his lap. Had Wing put him to berth? It certainly seemed so.

He winced when his tanks growled, a quick check to his HUD informing him he was low on fuel. He pushed the blankets off, then slid out of the berth. His gaze landed on his visor, and he reached for it. As soon as he picked it up, the crack grew, and the visor fell into two pieces. He stared, before his doorwings slumped and he set the broken visor down again. Right. Of course that would happen. Primus really did have it out for him.

Another growl from his tanks reminded him of his hunger, and he heaved a sigh before turning and leaving his room. There was a small rec room in the ship, where the energon dispenser was. He’d go there, and avoid Drift if he saw him. Wing knew about his optic now, so there was no hiding it, but he wasn’t ready for the racer to know, too.

Prowl arrived at the rec room, his optic finding Wing sitting in a corner by the view port. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the jet. He’d accepted the mech’s offer, but he couldn’t yet think of him as “Master Wing”. He had yet to address the other bot as such. He supposed a part of him wasn’t willing to believe that Wing actually cared. Another, smaller part of him still clung to Master Yoketron.

The mech in question obviously sensed him, because Prowl found himself pinned under the force of his bright amber optics. A smile stretched across his faceplates, and the white bot nodded.

“Hello, Prowl. Recharge well?”

“Yes.” he answered, walking over to where Wing was seated.

“That’s good. We made a short stop while you were out. I asked Drift to pick up something for you.”

Prowl blinked, surprised. “For me? That’s not necessary.”

“I think it is.” Wing smiled, then pulled something out of his subspace and set it in front of the Praxian.

Prowl’s vents froze. It was a visor. It was a very similar make to his old one, but it was slimmer and not as long. When he reached out to touch it, he could tell immediately that it was a much better, lighter material. More durable, too. Slowly, he lifted it, waiting to be told it was a prank and to have it snatched away. Wing did no such thing, and Prowl was soon pushing it into place over his optics. He could see through it even better than his last, and when he looked to the nearest reflexive surface he realized that the visor glowed faintly like his optic did, but it did so uniformly. It wasn’t dimmer or dark on the right side, the side that covered his dead optic. Looking at him, it’d be impossible to tell he was half-blind.

He swallowed, deciding to cautiously take this at face value. “Thank you.”

“Of course, little one. I broke yours, it was only right to replace it.” He smiled. “I also picked up a couple extras, in case that one breaks as well.”

Here, Wing pulled a small box out of his subspace and set it down. Prowl was quick to grab it and slip it into his own subspace, not wanting to take the chance of losing the spare visors to a change of mind when they were the only thing keeping the world from learning about his optic.

Wing smiled sadly, though for the life of him Prowl still didn’t understand why. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, Prowl.” he said. “You know I knew Yoketron. I think it’s time I tell you the full story, if you wish to hear it.”

Prowl stiffened at the mention of his old mentor, but he didn’t say anything for a moment. All he could think about was how he wanted to learn more about the mech who had given him a home and a purpose.

“Please.” he whispered.

Wing smiled. “Yoketron and I were students together.” he explained.

Prowl froze. “You…what?”

“We were students together, at the same time and under the same master.” He explained. “This was before the war, of course. Back when the Cyber-Ninja Corps was larger. Our master commonly took on pairs of students. One the senior student, one the junior. The senior student could help their junior, if need be, and they’d train together, live together, learn together. When the senior student graduated, our master would take on a new student, and the one who was previously the junior student would become the senior while the new one would become the junior.” Wing said. “It was a common way to teach students, back then. Yoketron was the one who decided to start only taking one student at the time.”

Prowl stared, carefully turning that information over in his processor. “You…were more than just cohorts, then.”

“Yes.” Wing agreed. “Yoketron was my junior, actually. And he was our master’s last student. After he graduated and after he achieved the title of cyber-ninja master, he was given the role of Master of the Corps.” The jet’s smile turned soft and wistful. “We were Amica. I will miss him dearly.”

Prowl stared, and then his gaze dropped. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. His master had had an Amica? He almost couldn’t believe it.

“It’s not your fault, mechling.” Wing soothed, chuckling. “You are not to blame for his death.”

He was still, not knowing how to respond. For mega-cycles, he had been blamed for his Master’s death. He didn’t know how to react to someone telling him otherwise. He didn’t know if Wing meant it. He probably did, the jet was rather genuine in all the the he he did. Pits, but Prowl didn’t want to think about Yoketron. The memory still sent jagged bolts of agony through his spark.

“Your Master.” he said, grasping a topic to focus on. “What was his name?”

Wing laughed, helm tilting. “Her name, actually. Master Windblade was a femme. Cyber-ninja titles don’t differentiate between gender. Every bot of a certain rank has the same title, regardless of their frame type or whether they’re a mech or femme.”

“A femme?” Prowl asked, stunned. “There was a femme as the Master of the Corps?”

“Is that so surprising?” Wing asked, frowning.

“Femmes, ah….” Prowl trailed off. “Most are not involved in positions that would involve any degree of combat or political power. They are primarily medics, or work in similar soft fields, if they work in the Autobot forces at all. Femmes are rare, and most of them are civilians.” he said.

The jet went still, frowning. “Oh? Is that so?” he murmured.

“Yes.” he said quietly. “They are…highly discouraged from pursuing anything violent.”

Wing shook his helm. “Yet another failing of the Autobot leadership.” he sighed.

Prowl was confused. “Another?” He knew High Command weren’t perfect, in fact he knew that the structure of the Autobots on Cybertron was twisted at best, but he had a feeling Wing wasn’t talking about that.

“Yes.” he said. “Did you know, little one, that there used to be a multitude of flight-frames among the Autobot and civilian population? Before and even during the war, our species wasn’t divided into just Autobot and Decepticon. There were many who were neither. Now, those who refused to pick a side must live away from our homeworld.”

“As Neutrals.”

“Yes. And during the war, there were quite a few Autobot flyers. A rather famous one was a soldier called Whirl. A group known as the Aerialbots fought together and dominated the skies. There was even a mech named Blades, though he worked more in rescue and medicine than in active combat.”

“So what happened to them all?” Prowl asked. There were no flyers on Cybertron. In fact, before his imprisonment, during which he’d first learned of the Neutrals, and before meeting Wing, he’d assumed that all flyers were Decepticons.

“They were forced off planet with the Decepticons. Most became Neutrals. I suppose the Autobot leadership wanted to create a certain narrative, and their flyers didn’t fit into it.”

Prowl frowned, then something occurred to him. “Blades…that’s the medic we’re going to see?”

Wing smiled. “Yes. He’s a skittish mech, but he has a good spark. He just wants to do good for others.”

Prowl nodded. “You know a lot about this.” he said.

“I should.” Wing said. “Master Windblade was a jet. As am I, as you’ve noticed. After I completed my training, she asked if I wished to continue advanced training to become a paladin. I agreed, and when she completed Yoketron’s tutelage she took me off-planet for the rest of my own training. It was shortly after I’d become a paladin that Cybertron sent us a message telling us we wouldn’t be permitted to return.”

Prowl was stunned. Of course he’d always known that there were no Autobot flyers, but he hadn’t thought that meant Autobot High Command had forced the ones it did have to leave their home. But if he was being honest, he wasn’t too surprised. He remembered what his people had done to him. He knew they had an astounding capacity for cruelty.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Wing shook his helm. “It’s quite alright, Prowl. Cybertron hasn’t been home for me in a long time. I preferred exploring the stars, if I’m honest.”

Prowl hummed, then lifted his helm as something the mech had said caught his attention. “You mentioned…becoming a paladin?”

“Ah, yes.” Wing smiled. “Paladins are a part of the cyber-ninja corps. It’s a title. To earn it, a cyber-ninja who competes their full training must be willing to take on additional, advanced training.” He gestured at his back, where the hilt of his sword, a gem glinting in its pommel, sat sheathed. “I’m sure you’ve noticed my blade.”

“I have.”

“It is what is called a Great Sword, and is the final step in becoming a paladin. Master Windblade was one, too. The gems in the blades give them immense power and a small degree of…sentience, almost. When a paladin in training becomes ready for a Sword, they are taken to the Vault. It’s a location far off of Cybertron where all the Great Swords are kept. When a paladin-hopeful arrives, they must visit each blade, and if they are deemed worthy, one of the blades will choose them and bind to their very spark.”

Prowl blinked. “So your sword…”

“Is tied to my spark, yes. It’s name is Knowing Light. I can use the blade as a simple sword, without drawing on its power, but when I do use it’s full strength it forms an active link to my spark. Using the energy of my spark, it makes itself far more powerful and stronger.”

“And what’s the consequence of that?”

Wing laughed. “Shrewd, aren’t you? Yes, there is a consequence to linking and powering a Great Sword. Each time a paladin does, it drains just that much more of their life force. The blade is not to be used lightly. One can fight with it without drawing on its power, but if you wish to make it stronger you must sacrifice some of yourself to do so.” he explained.

“So…you’re a paladin.” Prowl was staring, optic wide behind his visor. “If you bind your spark to your blade, does that mean it’s bound to you and you alone?”

“Indeed.” Wing chuckled. “No other can use Knowing Light as long as I live. I am currently training Drift to become a paladin as well. One day, he will visit the Vault and see if any of the Great Swords deem him worthy.”

Prowl nodded. That…he’d never known about that. It wasn’t in any records at the Dojo. He didn’t think that knowledge existed in the Corps anymore.

“And me?” he asked. Did Wing intend to make him a paladin, too?

Wing shrugged. “Only if you wish it, little one. It’s a great deal of work, and a rather heavy burden and responsibility. If you only want the training to graduate as a cyber-ninja, I will be happy to give just that much to you. If you wish to take the path of the paladin, then I’d be most honored to guide you in that journey.”

Prowl wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Wing really meant it, he thought. He had a choice in this. The jet would teach him whatever he wanted to learn. His tanks growled, and the mech startled before laughing lightly. He stood, and before Prowl really processed anything he was back from the dispenser and setting a full cube in front of him.

“Slowly.” Wing reminded gently.

Prowl nodded, picking up the cube. “Thank you.” he murmured, lifting it for a long, slow sip. He swallowed, sighing as he felt his tanks begin to settle with the promise of fuel.

“I…have a question.” he said.

Wing hummed as he sat back down. “And I shall endeavor to answer it.”

“The medic, Blades…do you know him?”

“Quite well. Drift and I both have enough medical knowledge to treat ourselves of basic injuries, but we go to Blades whenever it’s something more serious.” he explained.

“Do you think he could….” He trailed off. How did he even ask?

“He can’t fix your optic, Prowl.” Wing whispered.

“No, no!” Prowl looked up. “I….I know. That’s not what…”

“Then what?” he asked patiently.

“Do you think he can change my frame?”

Wing froze. “Prowl.” he said carefully. “A frame reformat is not a good idea.”

“Not that, either.” Prowl shook his helm. “Just…” he trailed off, catching his reflection in the dark window beside them and wincing. “I can’t look at myself without seeing who I was before and remembering everything I have suffered.” he whispered. “I don’t want a reformat. Just…cosmetic changes. Minor ones, and a new paint job. I know it is selfish, but I do not want to look at myself and only see an echo of the past I’ve lost.”

Wing tilted his helm. “It is selfish.” he agreed. “But selfish is not bad, Prowl. Everyone needs to be selfish, sometimes. So long as you do not live your life as such, there is nothing wrong with being selfish in your personal matters.”

Prowl swallowed, throat feeling thick. He didn’t say anything.

Wing smiled. “Blades can very easily after your frame cosmetically. And a new paint job is also easy. Drift wished for the same when he became my student. I will not deny it to you.”

Prowl nodded, gaze dropping. He wondered why Drift had needed such changes. Perhaps, now that he was here, he’d have time to find out and get to know his senior.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

Wing chuckled, nodding. “Of course, little one. You deserve to feel good about yourself. I won’t deny you that chance to.”

Prowl stood abruptly, tucking his cube to his chest. Wing watched, but said nothing. This was getting too much. He appreciated everything he’d been told, all the respects and cares Wing was extending to him, but he just desperately needed some time to himself to he could process it all and assure himself it wasn’t a cruel trick. It would take time to learn to trust again, but he thought he could come to trust Wing, if things continued like this. He turned, heading for the exit of the red room with the cube in hand. At the door, he paused but didn’t look back.

“Thank you.” he said again, ignoring the tremor in his voice. “I hope you have a pleasant orn, Master Wing.”

And then he was fleeing down the hall back to his room.

Back in the recipe room, Wing was still. That had been the first time Prowl had addressed him like that. He paused, and then he was smiling even wider.

Yes, he’d made the right decision.

He could feel it.

———————————————————————————————————

And here we finally have it! The reveal of what happened to Prowl’s optics and where Wing knew Yoketron from! I wanted to incorporate the idea of the Knights into this somehow, and since Axe and Dai Atlas are canonically cyber-ninjas I thought why not make the Knights an extension of the Corps, just under a different name? I thought it fit.

I also really liked the idea of ninja lady Windblade teaching Wing and Yoketron. In my mind, Wing was a hellion and a wild feral child who liked having fun, and Yoketron was the surly, egotistical, rude little jerk. She whipped them both into shape, though!

I’d also like to apologize for the wait since my last fic, and give y’all a heads up. Updates and fic request fills will be slower coming. They’ll still happen, but for now I’ve closed requests until I can fill all the ones I have and write for my other series too. This is all cause I started my freshman year of college recently, so that’s going to be my primary focus for a while. I’ll write in the times I have to spare and post when I can, but it won’t be regular. Thank you all so much for your support, though! It really means a lot and is what makes me keep writing!

I hope you liked this fic, and if you have any thoughts be sure to let me know!

Until next time, folks!

[sedated-love]

ShigarakixReader smut

Tenth post of October!! 

TW- Piss, Noncon, Voyeurism

Hope you guys enjoy! If you like it, please take the time to reblog <3 It helps a ton! Also if you have any suggestions for what I write in the future, please feel free to leave them in my ask box!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit…”

You cursed softly under your breath as you made your way across the ball floor, noticing just how bad of a position that you were in. You were sent undercover to this villain’s ball as a spy to try and gather information, but you didn’t realize just how many villains there would be. The worst part is that everyone of them that you recognize, wants your head on a silver platter for tonight’s main course.

You were thankful it was a masked ball but the half mask covering your face didn’t stop you from feeling completely naked and vulnerable as you tried to weave your way through the dancing villains. You hadn’t even realized this sort of thing existed until you were sent as a pro hero to go and infiltrate it. A ball for villains to dance and dress up almost sounded fake after all but it very much wasn’t.

You would like to say you weren’t worried, but it felt like the smallest of wrong moves could get you killed and honestly it could. With the number of villains here, it wouldn’t take long for them to rip you to shreds limb by limb. Just the thought had you shivering as you grabbed a shot off the tray of a server walking past, not caring what kind of alcoholic beverage it was as you closed your eyes and shot it anyways, feeling the burn immediately settle in your chest. You were going to need it for tonight.

“Drinking already~?”

You practically jumped out of your skin when a voice you recognized appeared behind you and you slowly turned around to see Shigaraki…aka the man who probably wanted you dead the most here out of everyone. You choked down your anxiety to offer a smile, handing the shot glass away to the server before turning all of your attention to the villain who was easily recognizable as he used a muzzle as his mask of choice. How fitting. You always did think he seemed a little too feral to be without one.

“It’s never to early for a drink…”

You kept your voice steady, not liking the way the villain’s eyes were traveling your body since you couldn’t tell if he wanted to kill you or eat you. Either way you didn’t really like the outcome. “I suppose.” His eyes dragged their way back to yours and with the way he looked at you, you felt like you weren’t wearing a mask at all. You felt completely vulnerable and suddenly you wanted to dart the other way but that would completely blow you cover so instead you stood still in front of him, trying to keep yourself from looking too suspicious.

“Care for a dance, M’lady?”

He offered his hand which you noticed was gloved. A part of you was thankful as you had seen his quirk in action more times than you’d like to admit, and you weren’t looking to get disintegrated any time soon but you still didn’t reach to take his hand. “Well, actually, I was just about to get going so…” You went to turn on your heel as you politely declined his offer, knowing that dancing with your number one nemesis was about the worst thing that you could do.

After all, that made him about a million percent more likely to figure out your true identity and you weren’t desperate for your demise just yet. Though you were quick to freeze when you felt that gloved hand wrap around your wrist, forcing you to turn back to look at the villain. “I suggest you dance with me~” He spoke barely above a hushed whisper, which made him barely audible with the music in the background drowning everything out unless you concentrated hard.

His tone, despite being soft, told you that this was no suggestion. He was demanding that you take the floor with him but still you offered a tightly lipped smile, doing your best to not appear rude while still being firm. “I really do have to get going…” You looked down at your wrist where his grasp tightened to a point it was almost painful. You had to hold back a wince as those red eyes stayed focus on you, devouring you alive.

“I’m sure you have time for one more dance.”

He pulled you by your wrist against his chest with ease. His other hand, which was now painfully obvious to you wasn’t gloved like the other, rested against your lower back. His pinky being raised was the only thing keeping all of your particles in one piece. “Unless, of course, you want everyone here finding out who you are, hero~”

Your body tensed as you realized he knew exactly who you were already. You racked your brain for what must have given it away when he answered your question, leaning in close to your ear as he whispered. “I’d notice your frame anywhere…you think I haven’t memorized it by now?” A soft purr left his lips as his eyes wandered down your body, making you feel like you were completely naked despite wearing a decent amount of clothes. “Every measurement…every curve has been scanned into my brain. I could recognize you out on the street even if you were wearing a baggy hoodie and jeans just from the degree of the angle your jawline makes~”

He ran a gloved finger along the outline of your jaw, causing a shiver to go through your spine as you looked up at him with a horrified expression written all over your face. The expression just seemed to amuse him though as he offered you a smirk before dragging you towards the dance floor. “It’s time for that dance, M’lady~” He didn’t give you a chance to argue as you were pulled around in his grasp like a doll. Your hands were moved to rest on his shoulders as both of his held onto your waist besides the one pinky which hovered over your frame in almost a teasing manner.

“What is it that you want from me?”

You couldn’t help the question that had been wracking your brain as your bodies slowly began moving with the beat of the music. You were absolutely surrounded with no escape. The mass majority of people that wanted you dead were surrounding you while the one who wanted you the most had you right in the palm of his hands…literally. Now you just needed to figure out what he wanted, and you didn’t see the harm in asking. After all, he proved he already knows who you are and if he wanted you dead immediately, he could have killed you by now.

He proved that with the way he had his pinky carefully hovering over your hip. As if one wrong move and he would have you turned into nothing more than a pile of ashes at his feet. “It would be easier to ask what I don’t want from you…” His voice spoke softly as he seemed just as dangerous with the muzzle on. Like either way he would manage to bite you with the way he was looking down at you.

“I’m gonna make you mine.”

A shiver rolled its way down your spine with the way he said that and you wanted nothing more than to sock him in the face but you were pretty sure causing that much attention to yourself while you were surrounded by the countries most powerful villains wasn’t the smartest idea. He had you trapped right where he wanted you. “I’ll claim you right here in front of everyone~ You’ll be my own little hero pet~”

The unease that flowed through your body at the sound of that left you stiff. It took everything you had to keep your feet moving with the beat as you slow danced with the criminal. “You’re fucking sick, you know that?” You kept your voice hushed but you couldn’t help the disgust you felt. He wanted to claim you? What sort of sick nonsense was that? You weren’t some toy to be chosen in front of a room of toddlers but that’s exactly how he was treating it.

“I’ll show you just how sick, I can be.”

A sadistic look twisted on his face as he grabbed a handful of your hair, dragging you towards the center of the ballroom. You had to stumble behind him to struggle and keep your balance as he pulled you along with ease, an act that quickly grabbed everyone’s attention as you struggled against his tight grasp. You were promptly forced onto your knees as all of the villains in the room made a circle around you and the music cut. All eyes were on you.

“Now that I have everyone’s attention!”

Shigaraki yanked off the mask that was the only thing keeping your identity hidden, disintegrating it in his grasp as you heard the hushed whispers of all of the villains surrounding you. This wasn’t good. “I’ve seemed to find a little spy amongst our numbers tonight~” The man standing above you kept you held down with his hand place firming on your head, his index barely lifted off as he spoke proudly to everyone around you.

You could feel all of the eyes digging into you, ripping you apart already as if the only thing holding them back was Shigaraki. You didn’t know whether you were grateful or just wanted them to get it over with already. “I’m going to claim her as mine!” The cheers that filled the room pounded into your core. It was like everyone knew exactly what that phrase entailed besides you. Though you were going to find out very soon.

Using his clothed hand, he undid his pants, pushing them down along with his boxers until his hard member popped free and pressed directly against your face with where he was holding your head. You wanted to jerk back in disgust but doing that would have that index finger pushed down faster than you could pull away.

You were completely stuck there, with his cock in your face, in front of everyone. “Be a good little hero and fix my problem~” Shigaraki used his index finger and thumb to press against either side of your cheeks until your jaw was forcibly opened, not waiting another moment before he shoved his cock down the back of your throat. “Bite and you’ll end up a dust bunny~” He tightened his grasp on the top of your head as if proving his point as he started roughly thrusting his hips, not seeming to give a care in the world that everyone was watching the two of you.

If anything, it seemed to make him all the more excited as he throbbed against the back of your throat. He didn’t bother being gentle as he started using your throat like a flesh light, pounding roughly against your face with no care in the world of how you gagged under the rough treatment. You had to force yourself to concentrate on breathing through your nose as the thick cock pushed its way down the back of your throat with every thrust. His rough grip on your head giving you no wiggle room as all you could do was sit obediently on the floor in front of everyone and suck on your worst enemies’ cock.

You gagged with every thrust, tears starting to stream down your cheeks as he used your throat as he pleased. You felt dirty and used as the villain effectively claimed you as his own, but little did you know that he wasn’t finished. His thrusts got sloppy as he approached his orgasm and he gave you no time to prepare before he shoved your head all the way down on his cock, cumming deep in the back of your throat and forcing you to swallow every ounce of his cum.

A groan left his lips as he looked down at you, pumping your throat full as he took in how completely wrecked you were underneath him. The tears streaming down your cheeks doing even more for his ego as he rocked his hips through his orgasm, only pulling out once he had become completely soft against your lips.

You coughed softly, your throat feeling sore from being used so ruthlessly and your face was a wreck as a mixture of drool and cum slid down your chin. Your cheeks burned hot with embarrassment and you wanted nothing more than to hide away completely, already brought to shame just from being forced to do something so lewd in front of everyone you hated…but being embarrassed wasn’t enough for Shigaraki.

He wanted to make you feel so ashamed that you wouldn’t have the dignity to ever come back from it. Which is exactly why he grabbed you by the back of your head, shoving his flaccid dick against the back of your mouth before using his other hand to pinch your nose. “Drink.” He gave you no other warning before he started releasing his warm piss down the back of your throat, letting out a soft sigh of relief as he released himself in your body.

You felt your entire face burning with shame as you had no choice but to drink his warm liquid, closing your eyes as you took all that he had to give to you, feeling absolutely filthy as he emptied himself inside of you in front of everyone. “Good girl~” He waited until he was completely done to uncover your nose and pull himself completely from your mouth, grabbing you by the front of your clothes just to pull you closer to his face as he leaned down until your lips were almost touching.

“The shame that you feel right now ties you to me. Don’t forget it~”

He placed a soft kiss to your lips before letting you drop completely, turning to look at the villains who were all watching your limp body. “The girl belongs to me now. Anyone who lays a finger on her…” He grabbed the face of a random person standing behind him in the outline of the circle, watching as he disintegrated to dust at his feet. “Will suffer a similar fate~”

[pokeexehasstoppedworking]

Love Doesn’t Do Encores Ch8 Battle Gym Leader Milo

(I have read somewhere sheep love dandelions so Im applying that fact to wooloos. I would also like to note that all side quests shall also be considered a part of the story.)

It would be nice to wake up without pain in your neck, sides, or back wouldn't it? That's what you wished you could do as you were shaken yet again the very next morning by someone. The four of you had decided to set up camp in the nearby camping grounds near the stadium since the day was starting to come too a close and you still weren't used to not sleeping on anything between you and the ground besides the thin floor of the tent and had fallen asleep feeling the hard ground beneath you and it must've taken you at least a good three hours before you had fallen asleep that night. Your sobble softly snoring sleeping on your head. And this morning was just like the rest when you woke up with a slight pain in your neck and back, popping them as you stretched. And with what happened yesterday you must've looked a sight-

"You look like you haven't slept in a month." Yep. It was Gloria decked out in her white gym uniform again ready to take on the day and battle ....or so it seemed.

You yawned and rubbed at your neck. Giving a groan as you already felt your sobble climbing on your back to reach it favorite riding spot and you gave him a look when he flopped half of himself over your shoulder. You were starting to see a pattern with this little guy liking to hitch a ride instead of walking himself.....Hm. Well if he was gonna stick with you for a while maybe you should give him a name? But right now you were more concerned with how much you were yawning. "Haha. I wonder why."

"Is she up?" Victor's head appeared in the opening of the tent next to his twin's and rose a brow at you blinking at the sunlight. "Oh...Wow you weren't wrong? Real case of bed head there, Y/n."

"Glad to know I can scare off Prince Charming," you sarcastically stated, "Although I wasn't expecting any kissing from any royalty anyhow."

Gloria snorted and Victor quickly held up his hands. "WHA- I-I didn't mean to be rude I swear it's just-"

"Ah. It's fine." You cut him off moving to grab your lumpy backpack/pillow at this point and made to crawl out of the tent. "Im always like this in the morning anyways. All I need is a quick hair brush and Im fine. ...What time is it?"

"Pretty early in the morning. We can all head on over to the stadium if you want but we'll still have to wait. Milo's still battling someone at the moment."

It must've been one of the trainers from before you guessed as you completely crawled out reaching up to straighten your hair out in an attempt to look presentable from a night of little sleep. "I guess he's still busy today. Kinda makes me wanna rethink my whole business liscence schtick if this means I'm gonna run a business like that."

"Business stick?"

"...Nevermind. Help me put away the tents then we can head on over to the gym ok?"

The four of you scrambled to put the tents away as you fumbled to get yourself looking half way decent. You doubted anyone would pay too much attention to you being only one random person sitting in the crowd of possibly hundreds of more people...That reminds you. You looked over your shoulder at Gloria who was currently in a pretty deep conversation with her twin whil Hop (tried to-) wrestle the tent down into it's more compact form. Victor mentioned she had stage fright. Not as bad as before stage fright, but still stage fright. He mentioned she had gotten A lot better but it seemed there was still some left since you could still remember her stiff smile and the way Hop had assurringly held his friend's hand out on the field there, which was real sweet of him. You could definately tell he was related to Leon. But it won't be the same here. It's not like you or anyone else would be there to encourage her while on field. The best any of you could do was cheer her on from the stage. Guess the two of you would have to roll with the punches as they were about to hit you. It didn't take too long to pack everything away, and you had helped Hop with his struggling battle to put the tent away. As soon as it was tightly packed away and placed onto Hop's back, you turned ready to journey to the stadium-

"Hey." Gloria's voice stopped you mid step as she pointed back up the way from the stadium. "Before we head on out I need to buy me some dandelions."

You gave her a look like she was crazy. "Dandelions? What would you buy dandelions right now for?"

"Milo's still busy right? Then we have time to get some before we go!"

You had zero idea what in the world Gloria would want with dandelions especially before her first gym battle, but you agreed since it meant you'd have some more time to straighten your hair out. So you agreed and she proceeded to buy dandelions at the florist shope. Stuffing them into her white uniform's pants pocket. She had bought a good amount and you wondered what in the world they were for. A gift for Milo perhaps? By the time the four of you made it back down to the GIGANTIC stadium. Her brother turning to her as you three stopped by to part ways. From here you could hear the cheering from the hundreds of people within and briefly wondered for a moment exactly where all these people came from. Certainly not this small town unless they traveled to see the matches. Which seemed more likely.

"Don't forget to show them your League Card to get in," Victor reminded her.

"I know."

"And stay calm."

"I know."

"Have a clear head and think things through alright."

"I KNOW!! Vic I'll be fine! You guys should get seats and watch me kick some butt!"

You heard him groan and shake his head. "Just....Don't forget what we talked about earlier alright?"

She nodded her head before giving him a smile and turned on her heel to trot on over to the front doors, which was guarded by more of those security people from the first stadium. Hop caught your attention when he nodded his head towards the stadium and you agreed following him as he turned to walk towards around the far side of the stadium with Victor hurrying to following behind. The three of you walked around until you came to two large double doors with stairs leading up and up into the stadium and you followed them screams and cheers becoming more and more promanant until you exited through the top and found yourselves high up and in side the stands....Huh. There wasn't as many people as you thought there would be. There was still a lot of people filling the seats around you but there was considerably less than at he opening Ceremony. There was still a good chunk of empty seats scattered about even with the large crowds. Surrounding the field was hundreds of seats with spectators cheering loudly and chattering likely excited for the next battle with Milo but said Gym Leader was no where to be seen on the field. Your guess was that he was taking a small break before the next battle to be had. You still followed behind them as they walked down the steps(thank GOODNESS that it wasn't as loud as the other stadium. You didn't think you could take that loud of a racket again.) and the lot of you were able to be seated a lot closer to the field this time thanks to the variety of open seats. As the three of you sat down the cheers of the crowd soon turned into loud but managable to your ears murmurs. Your sobble had taken to pushing itself up half on your head to look around interested but you reached up to take him into your lap instead. Neck still stiff from your awkward sleeping position.

It was then you noticed there was no one on the grassy fields below. "Hey. Where is everyone?"

"Gloria must be going through the challenge right now," Victor said it was easier to talk to him now than at the Opening Ceremony. "It took Hop about twenty five minutes to make it through so we'll have to wait and see what happens."

"It wasn't too hard," Hop commented crossing his arms, "In Postwick it's practically a need to know skill how to herd wooloo. A right of passage if you will. That challenge was practically begging me to solve it!"

That's right. Hop and the twins were born and raised amongst these pokemon. This should be fairly easy for them you thought. Or more likely hoped.

"Is this being broadcasted on TV as well?"

"No. Only the Entrance Ceremony and the Champion Matches at the end of the year will be. All the battles at the stadiums are recorded though, but they're uploaded to the Gym Challenge League's official Poketube website. So Mom would still be able to watch us if she wanted too. It helps with the pacing of TV channels and networks and makes it more convienet for anyone watching."

Ah. That makes sense. Guess you just had to wai- ....You blinked and squinted your eyes towards the field and pointed. "Hey. Who's that?"

Both boys looked towards the stadium's giant TV and Hop answered. "Oh. That's Dan. He's the gym's referee here, but he doesn't usually step out on field unless the battle's about to begin."

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! THE BATTLE BETWEEN GYM LEADER MILO AND GYM CHALLENGER GLORIA SHALL BEGIN!!"

All three of you looked rather surprised at what was just said by the blonde man before Hop said what the three of you were thinking. "WHAT?! Already?! How could she have finished the challenge that fast!? It's barely been ten minutes."

You weren't sure yourself but were distracted by the sudden amount of cheers from the crowd as two more figures stepped onto the field. From the far left came Milo, the same man who worriedly apologised for letting his wooloo knock you over and from the right came Gloria..but she looked a bit different. Unlike last time, instead of stiff her movements were fast, jogging her way to the middle keeping her eyes slightly downward as the cameras caught her image and placed them on the screen for everyone to see. The two of them met somewhere in the middle of the field by Dan and although you could see their lips moving as they exchanged a few words you couldn't hear anything. You had guessed you wouldn't unless they had microphones to speak into. Before long the two bowed to each other before turning on their heels and walking away from one another. The flash of Victor's camera making you blink as he proceeded to capture his sister's first real battle of the league. Hop watching with a set determined face. The referee taking a few steps back himself, most likely not wanting to get caught in the crossfires.

"Here we go."

In one fluid motion with a cheer from the crowd, Milo threw a ball out and in a flash of light out came a gossifluer. Gloria mimicked the motion with her own pokeball and to your light surprise it wasn't a scorbunny. It was a corvisquire. The crow bird like pokemon gave a loud caw as it fluttered there awaiting orders. You didn't remember her catching that pokemon. Must've been one of the new ones she managed to capture back before you left Motostoke.

"BATTLE BEGIN!!"

Immediately Milo pointed and his lips moved in yelling in order. Immediately his gossifluer responded by a wind blowing around itself and suddenly leaves danced around it it a tiny tornado before being flung forward towards the bird pokemon. Razor Leaf move perhaps? Gloria's small form (or big form on the giant tv depending on which one you were watching) pointed back and barked something and like a blurred shadow the bird thing shot forward, dodging the leaves thrown at it, and like a seagal plucking a fish from the sea, the tiny gossifluer was quickly snatched up into the claws of the crow thing. You could only watch in worry for the poor thing as the corvisquire flew up, up, up until it would've been considered out of bounds of the gym. Before plummeting like a rock down below. THEY'RE GONNA crash!! Was the first thing in your mind as they went and just at the right moment the pokemon snapped it's wings back up and easily managed to fly away unhurt. A sigh of relief escaped you. Thank goodness....Only...it no longer had the gossifluer in it's claws. Your hold on your sobble increased making it give you a confused chirp, as your f/c eyes instantly went to the part of the field it would've crashed into. Only to catch the part glimpse of a light going back into the pokeball in Milo's hand. That could've only meant that Gloria managed to one hit K.O. the poor pokemon. That didn't sound right, unless the corvisquire she caught was pretty strong or-...Oh no. It couldn't be that- No time to wonder on that now as Milo sent out another pokemon who looked like a walking puffy dandelion. Eldegoss if you remembered right. While Gloria kept her corvisquire....before returning it. Guess she was changing it after all.

"ALL RIGHT!! DYNAMAX TIME!!"

You didn't have time to ask Hop what he meant. A bright red glow oozed out of the band Gloria wore upon her arm as she held her pokeball, it quickly was surrounded by the glowing energy before becoming bigger in her hands. She stumbled a bit seeming to have trouble with the added weight where you for sure thought she'd fall, before uprighting her self and turning around. With her teeth grit, Gloria raised the gigantic red pokeball above her head and tossed it. Your eyes followed it as it sored as high and far as she could- CRAP!! Your hands came up as an explosion of red appeared out of no where like multiply giant fireworks, followed by a whoosh of wind strong enough to push your body back and an UNGODLY giant cry in such high volume you could've sworn your ear drums could burst. There was a very loud chirp of panic and your eyes opened in a panic down to your shirt just as your sobble dove under it to escape the now......FREAKING. GIANT. BIRD THING!!! THAT THING WAS MASSIVE AS YOU STARED AT IT FLYING!! Thank god the stadium was built big enough for that thing to flap it's wings!! Speaking of which every flap sent a gust of wind flying from it, making Victor have to hold hit hat with one hand as he continued taking photos! Good gosh! No wonder your sobble was shaking against you! That'd thing give would give you nightmares too! A red circle of dynama clouds hung over the Corvisquire and it's black body now had a red shine to it. Looks as if Milo had decided to do it as well, because he did the same process of returning his own pokemon and adding the same red energy from his dynamax band. Giving the precious red pokeball a few pats with a smile before turning around and with one arm chucked it into the air behind him. Once again you had to shield your eyes from the bright explosion of red as the giant eldegoss made it's appearance with a slam down on the field that disleveled the ground and shook the stadium from under you. In an instant Gloria pointed towards the dynamaxed grass pokemon and must've given some kind of order you couldn't hear. Because it was at that very moment what you could only describe as a giant whirlwind of a tornado whipped from the corvisquire and straight for the eldegoss in a dead hit. That's right. Dynamaxing was a cool thing, but neither pokemon could dodge each other's attacks they were too big. Dynamaxing was a test of brute will to see how much you could hold out. And you were pretty sure Gloria had the upper hand but not because you thought she was super strong. The high winds made the three of you clutch your seats as it hit the eldegoss head on. If your hair wasnt a mess before it was now. Once the winds (other than the powerful breezes from the bird's wings) died down, you nearly choked seeing Gloria's form on her hands and knees clutching the grass to not be blown from the dirt. HOW WAS MILO STILL STANDING!? With a shriek of it's own the eldegoss leaned it's large head forward and you were surprised when three large green seeds fired off from it's head and landed with giant thuds under the bird's feet. Thank goodness Gloria was already ducking. What sprouted forth was GIGANTIC green mushrooms and grass surrounding it, then it exploded in a giant flash of green light. Giant glowing petals made of energy shooting everywhere before disintergrating into thin air. Green waves of energy washing over the crowds as the bird gave off a giant eagle cry of it's own but still flying in tack. ...That was one tough chicken!

"Eldegoss's Dynamax Move!! Awesome isn't it!?"

You couldn't answer. Another giant eagle cry pierced the air making your ear hurt and two black jet streams poured from it's wings. You watched in horror and shock as the dark jetstreams encircled the poor grass pokemon. Encasing it with a dome of black before exploding in a blast of black. The eldegoss crying out in pain as is tilted towards the ground- OMG! That thing was gonna crush Milo!! The eldegoss went out in an explosion that sent dirt clouds flying up everywhere as it timbered glowing brightly through the dust clouds as it magically shrank down winthin it's own mess. You all watched with baited breath as the clouds spread out and covered the famous gym leader as well, Gloria's bird pokemon glowing a bright reddish color before beginning to shrink down until it was back to it's normal size. It's normal size being about as big as Gloria herself (which was still pretty big but when again you remembered how big corviknight are supposed to get), and perched back onto the ground right next to it's trainer who was staring from her kneeled position as the dust literally settled. At least the giant gusts of wind weren't pushing you against the seats anymore. Maybe you should suggest to Leon to install seat belts on these stands. As the dust finally settled with great relief you saw Milo, unhurt and waving his big sunhat to shoo the dust away. Behind him was a giant crater in the ground and disheveled land. All that was left behind from the battle that had taken place.

"THE BATTLE IS OVER!! VICTORY GOES TO GYM CHALLENGER GLORIA!!"

The absolute UPROAR of the crowd's cheers along with Hop standing up to shout his own cheers to his rival/friend and another flash from Victor's camera signaled him capturing the shocked look on his sister's face just standing there looking around herself....Before you saw the brightest smile Gloria's ever given on her face and hugged her corvisquire making the poor pokemon wobble on it's feet as Milo placed the hat back on his head. The gym leader took a moment to look behind him at the disheveled field and big crater in the ground before looking back to the teenager and approuching her. Gloria seemed to notice because she stopped hugging her pokemon to face Milo with wide eyes as he approuched her. The two exchanged words for a moment before Milo held out his hand in a fist with a smile. Wide eyed she took a moment to stare at it before slowly holding out her own hands and he dropped something into the palm of her hands. Wide eyed and staring straight at it, it only took her a few moment for her to hop about excitedly and hold up the small thing in her hands. The cameras zoomed in enough for you to see that she was holding the same badge Hop had showed you the other day on the TV. She did it!? Her first badge! One more step on your way home! ...At Least you hoped. In the end the two of them shook hands and soon after excited the field as the three of you exited the stands, you taking your sobble and putting him on your shoulder again. The poor shaking pokemon calming quickly noticing there wasn't anymore giant pokemon. Hm. You might have to put him in your backpack from now on if he was gonna react all scared and hide like this. By the time the three of you excited the stands Gloria was already waiting outside the doors she went in. Smiling and bounding over towards you waving the badge around in her hand.

"LOOK AT THIS!!," she yelled excitedly shoving the badge in your faces the bronze-gold shining in the sunlight. "On my first try too! I told you I could do it!"

"You must've took my advice then."

You gave Victor a curious look. "Advice?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We used to play VR battles when we were younger as practice since we didn't have any pokemon. I suggested she pretended it was like the game and try her best."

Oh. Well that worked out pretty well for her anyways. Hopefully it'll work for the next battle as well, but you were a bit concerned that Gloria(and Hop-) only won because Milo and his pokemon was overwhelmed and tired by the onslot of trainers coming so early. But you were reluctant to say so. Not only because you didn't want to disturb the progress of the game's story more than you might have already did just by being here, and because you didn't want to hurt either of their feelings. Weighing your options, you decided that not mentioning it was the better choice for now.

"Congrats! I knew you could do it!," you complimented as she smiled wider.

"Thanks! I guess Hop and I must be on the same battling skill level then!"

"HECK YEAH! Wouldn't expect anything less from the greatest trainers to come out of Postwick!" You chuckled at him. "Oh by the way. What'd you do with all those dandelions you bought? Did you give 'em to Milo or something?"

A sly smile spread across her face. "Nope! I'm surprised you didn't remember."

He rose a brow. "Remember what?"

"Expert on wooloo huh?" She shook her head. "Wooloo love eating dandelions! That's why you barely find any of those flowers where wooloo graze or on farms in general. The objective was to get the wooloo to knock over the hay bails right? What better way than to get them to chase after you with their favorite food?"

Wow. That was actually a really smart idea you had to admit. Growing up in a farming community must really pay off. Hop's jaw practically fell open with this new revolution and his hands hands came up to grip his head. "AW MAN!! Why didn't I think of that!? I got my own wooloo for crying out loud!"

"Hey. It's ok. You're still smarter than me when it comes to science and research. You'd be a pretty good scientist too!"

"Science? Really?"

Hop nodded with a sigh. "Yeah. But it's more of a hobby, I just find learning stuff interesting y'know. But my main goal is to become the next Galar Champion!!"

"Not if I beat you to it!"

"Bring it on, Glory!

"Speaking of becoming champion," you interrupted the two, "Have you guys figured out which person you're gonna battle next?"

Both of them paused before looking at each other and Hop shrugged. "Well, there's really no particular order you have to have to battle in so I can pick anyone I want to battle next. It really doesn't matter as long as you get the eight badges for your Badge Circle...." She looked at you. "But Mr. Milo suggested I should go battle Nessa instead. He said she might be a good challenge for me."

"Nessa? Isn't she that model lady you showed me before?" She nodded.

"No way! That's where we were headed too!" Hop smiled. "This is a great chance to do a bit of traveling together!"

"Hey that sounds like a great idea! But first I want to check out this Turrfield treasure."

You all looked at her confused. "Turrfield treasure?"

She nodded. "I heard from a kid that there's supposed to be some kind 'o treasure around here. I think I figured out the riddle since then and I wanna go check it out before we leave."

"What kind of riddle?"

She made a thinking face. "Uh...Hang on a sec. What did she say how'd it go again? Some treasure lies in Turffield and the way to find it is with the standing stones and a riddle."

"Standing stones?"

"She means the ruins around Turffield," Victor answered you seeing the confusion on your face. "Some people call them 'Standing Stones' since most of them stand upright with their strange carvings."

"Seek the standing stones with Grass before the other ones," Gloria recited, "Use well that strength and find then the strength of it's strength in the end. Dally not if you've a mind to find what time has left behind...I don't know what it means tho."

"I do! It's about Pokemon types duh."

The three of you looked at Hop. "How did you solve that mystery?"

His answer was to point upwards towards the small florist and gift shop. "You remember the gift shop up there we were in?" You nodded confused. "They have this brochure in there with info on the Geoglyph and Standing Stones. I got curious after what Glory said about the thing and had a lil peek. It turns out one of the older standing stones has symbols that spell the word 'Grass' on it. And then there's two other's with 'Water' and 'Fire' cut into 'em too. It's like the three pokemon types. Grass types are usually stronger than water types but water types are usually stronger than fire types. And Fire Types are usually stronger than Grass types. It's a whole cycle of advantage type strengths."

You all were completely floored with such a logical and smart answer to come out of the teen but Gloria seemed the most impressed when she suddenly grabbed onto his hands making the poor boy freeze. "NO! WAY!! Oh my eevee! That makes so much sense! Hop you're a genius!!"

....He blinked a pink hue coming to his cheeks. "I-...I-I am?"

"YES!," she insisted eyes wide, "Who else would've been smart enough to figure out that riddle in one day!? And make the connection with pokemon advantages!" She gave him a tug and he stumbled a bit as she pulled his hands. "C'mon! We gotta go check 'em out! You know where they are right?"

"Wha- GLORIA!! What about our travel plans!?," Victor shouted after her gesturing towards a road that if you looked, was the way out of town.

She waved him off tugging Hop quickly down a different path back towards the Geoglyph. "It's just a quick look see! We'll meet you guys at the Pokemon Nusery on Route Five!!"

"GLORIA WAIT!!.....UGH!!" Victor facepalmed himself with a groan as he stood there and you blinked. "This is why I'm glad she has a traveling buddy." He looked back up at their disappearing forms with a scowl. "She gets one idea in her head there's nothing stopping her from getting it! Then she just rushes off into it without a second thought."

"Then I take it she didn't tell you about tresspassing on the Chairman's mine shafts."

"She did WHAT?!"

"Uh...Nevermind," you deflected pointing down the road. "Should we uh...Go wait for them?" In the end Victor huffed, shook his head, and turned on his heel to begin walking down the road. So you took that as a yes and made to follow him. "So....Where's the way to this Nessa person?"

Victor took a minute to respond with a sigh. "I'm not too sure. I know it's all the way on the other side of Galar in a coastal town called Hulbary. So it's safe to say it'll take some time if they insists on battling her gym next. Let me check my map." You watched and walked beside him patiently as Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Turning on to where the screen lit up and then spoke. "Hey Rotom. How long would it take to travel from the town of Turffield to the town of Halbury?"

Now you know you shouldn't have been surprised considering all phones had a rotom pokemon in it acting as this world's version of 'Hey Google' but you still blinked at the almost robotic voice answering him back. "ZZZZT. Follow on Route 5 to your destination. By Flying Taxi it would take approximately a week. By foot near a month."

"A WHAT!?"

He gave you a look. "Flying is a lot faster than walking, and Halbury's all the way across Galar from here. Of course it would take that long to travel by foot." Oh...right. Not a game. R.I.P your poor feet and the many night of awkward sleeping positions to come. He looked back to his phone messing with something on the screen a few times. "...According to this, Route Five starts once we pass the Pokemon Center and cross Turrfield Bridge. From there it's a straight course right across country to the east coast. It might take a while but it's the most convenient one for all of us."

"Isn't there a train or those taxi things?" Even if you REALY didn't want to try using those birdbrain powered taxi's you didn't like the sound of you walking across country for about a month either.

"Even if we got a taxi you heard Rotom. It'd take like a whole week of flying. And the corviknights need time to rest and eat and sleep too. They're living things just like us. Even cars, trains, and planes need to stop and need time to tune up and refill on gas don't they? And besides there's no train stations or Flying Stations set up in Turffield. If you want a train you'd have to travel back to Motostoke which is half a week, or you'd have to call a taxi from there to pick you up. Besides Gloria has a whole year to complete this task. One month out of eleven more isn't going to hurt anyone."

Except your feet and sleeping abilities but you couldn't argue. He was right. You traveled for four days and waited five for Gloria to get her first badge. You could do it again but longer. As the two of you walked down the road, the town began to fade away a bit behind you as you two traveled down the road. You both were just crossing over a small hill when you noticed a small cabin like building with a sign above his door reading: Turffield Pokemon Nursery. That must've been it! It looked as cozy as it did cute. And a little bit a ways from it was a bridge. That must've been the Turffield Bridge Victor spoke of earlier. Maybe you two should wait for the other two inside? It was pretty sunny out and you've been in the sunlight for a while. As you two walked towards the building, some movement near the bridge caught your eye and your eyes turned towards said movement. And your vision was filled with blurs of black and red and your hearing clogged with yelling. Your hand instinctively coming out to grab Victor's shoulder. The teen stopped from the tug on his shoulder a few yards away from the Pokemon Nursery before giving you a confused look as you stared. He followed your gaze just as what was happening finally registered in your head. It was those goons again! The weird ones that looked like they just stepped out of some kind of rock concert! The same ones from the hotel back in Motostoke! Why were they here tho? Two men who looked about your height a bit taller, were standing there on the bridge just as it connected with the road and backed against a part of the bridge was another man who looked all dressed up to be a doctor. Blue jumpsuit and a mask over half his face as he held up his hands to the men. Now yelling could be heard.

"OI! Just hand over that bike already!," One of them shouted pushing the smaller man's shoulder once, "We need it to cross this long bridge!"

"N-N-No!" The doctor man stammered out backing further against the wall of the bridge. "I-I bought this with my own hard earned money f-f-fair and square! What would two blokes like you even do with it!?"

"We're gonna use that bike ta chase around Gym Challengers! It'll be a scream!," the other said before cackling out with laughter.

"WHAT!? N-NO WAY!! I-Im not letting you two meatheads use my bike to chase around innocent children!"

"...Victor?"

"Yeah I see it." He peered around you brow raised looking at the scene before you two. ''Who the heck are those guys?"

You didn't answer, just stared as the two brutes jabbed the man again demanding his bike (or lack there of as you couldn't see one-) be handed over to them. How mean! But what really caught your attention was mentioning chasing around gym challengers. Now you couldn't remember if anything like this had happened in game but chasing around innocent kids for whatever reason just didn't settle right on your gut. There was two kids with you that were challengers and one could easily mistake Victor for one if you weren't careful.

"....You stay here." To reiterate your point you pulled Victor to the side of the road and firmly planted him there. He blinked and opened his mouth- !? He blinked again once you shoved your backpack into his arms and began walking. Your sobble giving a small chirp of surprise with the sudden movements. "Hold this."

"Wha- H-HEY! Y/N! What're ya doin'!?"

"C'mon old man! Give us the darn bike and we'll leave ya alone! You can get another one!"

The man scowled up at them. "T-Then why dont the two of you BUY one!?"

"Money's tight man! Just give it to us!"

"HEY UGLY!!" Dust sprayed everywhere or at least over one of them. As the three men turned to the sound of a woman's voice only for one of the weird rockstar wannabes to receive a splat of dirt picked up from the road to hit him square in the face and have the rest of it cover his front body. The man sputter/screamed out and hands immediately went to wipe at his face. Luckily none got in his eyes so no pain, but that didn't stop the annoyance. Especially since when he looked back up there was a girl standing there hands on her hips and sobble half hiding behind her head as she point. You gave them the angriest scowl you could muster. "You two KISS lookin' airheads leave that poor man alone! He already said no so beat it before I make you!!"

Behind you Victor's jaw dropped and the two goons seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment. Looking between the two of them confused before scowling and looking back to you. Crap. These two were both at least a good foot or two taller than you were. You hadn't really thought ahead but no turning back now.

"Oi! Girly, why don't ya mind your own business?"

"Yeah! This doesn't concern you!" They said leaning over you. Unknownt to anyone your sobble was starting to get a bit teary eyed at the two above him.

"It IS my concern if you're going around hassling innocent people! What'd the guy do to you two?! Back off and leave him alone before I call Officer Jenny on your arses!" Really you didn't know if this region had an Officer Jenny, but it seemed to work as their scowled wavered a bit.

"Whatcha gonna have us arrested for!? We haven't done any crimes yet!"

"Yeah yet! And what about you two planning on scaring everyone you see?"

"Last chance Girly!" One poked your shoulder as if to intimidate you. "Mind your own busines-"

"WWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

The three of you were interrupted by a loud almost baby like wail as you immediately cringed from it being from directly next to your head. You hissed hands coming to cover your eyes in a panic feeling tears start to sting from them. Was the pain of the yelling so loud you started crying?! If you could've seen past your furious wiping and tears you would've noticed the other men starting to cry as well, face paint starting to run down their faces.

"AAA!! M-Man what's goin' on!?", one shouted to his companion.

"I-...I D-DONT KNOW!! LET'S JUST GET OUT OF HERE OK!?"

They fled. Bumping into you and knocking you over in the process. You yelped as you fell to your butt on the dirt road and your sobble let out a choked hiccup as it was jostled from your head and onto the grassy ground in the men's haste to escape. Well...the baby cry was gone at least, but there was still a few hiccups from behind you as you hissed and used your sleeve to furiously wipe at your stinging eyes. WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!?

"OMG! Y/N! ARE YOU ALRIGHT!? WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?"

"Here young lady. Turn your head up." You blinked crying to see past the stinging of your tear soaked eyes and someone gently grabbed your jaw. A Second later a wet cloth was wiping at your eyes. Almost instant relief came from your sore red eyes as someone wiped at them. "There we go. Lucky for you I always have a Sobble Tear Cloth handy on me due to how sensitive the little ones can be." Once you got enough clear vision you could see the faces of Victor and the doctor man who were both kneeled next to your fallen body. "There now. How do you feel?"

".....Peachy,'' you mumbled shaking your head from his grip. "What was that?"

"Your sobble crying. When sobbles cry it's like someone chops a hundred onions near you. It's a defense mechanism that's highly affective as you can see. The effects take a while to wear off but luckily for you I happen to be an expert on these kids of things." Grabbing your arm the man carefully helped you on your feet and smiled behind the mask. "Thank you kindly for the help. But you didn't have to, Im sure they would've left sooner or later."

You waved a hand sniffing as said sobble began to immediately start climbing up your pants leg again. Combined with your wooloo bowling trip, you must've really looked a sight. "It's fine. Can't be worse than being knocked over by a wooloo. Are you alright, Mister?"

He nodded. "Yes. Thanks to you. Here. Let's get you to the Nursery. There's some eye drops in my office that might help you further. I work there as one of the nurses with the caretaker and her assistant."

You nodded and with the urge to wipe at your eyes the Docter and Victor helped you stumble walked your way towards the Nursery, your sobble continuing to climb up your body with little difficulty as it reached your shoulder. You felt it touch your cheek and give a small chirp but at the moment you paid it no mind trying not to fall over.

"Hey, Vick-...Oh wow. What happened? Was Y/n crying or something?"

Oh great. Well at least they finally showed up.

"Ill tell you later. Opening the door over there and let's get her inside."

The next thing you knew you were inside a cozy looking house and was given eye drops. It took a few minutes for you to go back to normal and the redness around your eyes to subside. But by the time it did you were feeling way better and sitting on a green couch. One hand petting your sobble who happily accepted the affection with a smile. Hop and Gloria had returned from their small search a little bit after you had managed to chase those men off, and they happily explained their trip from standing stone to standing stone...But unfortunately didn't find anything other than an old ten dollar bill that someone most likely accidentally dropped while visiting them. And Victor got to scold you about just walking up to strangers like that. Weren't you the grown up here? Glad to know everyone was ok tho. The elderly lady at the center had offered the four of you tea as thanks for helping to rescue their nurse and Gloria excused herself to check out the Center's Free Pokeboxes in their own rotomi stations. When you asked about it Hop was happy to explain.

"Oh. Free Pokeboxes are basically boxes from people's rotomi boxes. Usually Nurseries and Centers get a whole lot of them if a pokemon's trainer passes away, or if they were donated or abandoned to the system. From there they're sorta put up for adoption or released back into the wild if no one claims them within a year or so.....Y'know I think Ill take a look too. I might just find a neat new partner." He got up to go join Gloria currently flipping through options on the rotomi leaving you with Victor sitting on the couch.

You sighed. "Man. Some day it's been huh? A riddle solved. A gym battle won. And now a nurse was saved."

"All thanks to you. But please maybe don't be so reckless next time. I was afraid something bad might've happened to you by what those brutes yelled running off."

"Oh? What'd they say?"

He hummed. "Um....I think....'You're too strong!" He tried to repeat in a failed attempt at a deep man voice. "If you stay in the Gym Challenge you're gonna cause problems for our lady! You haven't seen the last of us! We're gonna make sure you stay out of our lady's way!'..Or something like that."

Well that perked your interest. You stared at him. "Our lady?...Does that mean someone ordered them to go after Gym Challengers?"

He hummed a more worried look coming over him. "Could be. But I wouldn't know who or why. Who'd want to go after the Gym Challengers?"

That was a very good question. You wracked your brain for a moment. Was there any person in the game with a pack of goons? And was there any lady out to stop the gym challengers? Your memory turned up nothing as you sighed and sunk back into your seat on the couch as you did. Those goons were at the hotel and now here as well. That couldn't just be a coincidence could it? No...You had a feeling there was something linking those guys to whatever's about to happen to you. Too bad you didn't know. As you both silently sat there, another person walked in through the door and up to the counter but you paid them no mind even as Gloria approuched them.

Eventually you sighed. "I wouldn't know either it seems, but just in case I think we should all be keeping a really close eye out for anymore of those guys and let Leon know the first chance we get. As the saying goes better be safe than sorry."

"Couldn't agree more. Especially since this is concerning my friend and sister."

"What's concerning us?"

Oh that was Hop. You turned. "We wanted to tell you about-" You blinked coming face to face with a grumpy purple face in the arms of Gloria as she held the tiny pokemon clinging to her like a baby. ...You pointed. "Where did you get that?"

"My Toxel? The lady that just came in wanted to drop it off. Somethin' bout hatching it and not being the pokemon she wanted or some speel. I couldn't just let a cutie like this go into adoption or tossed out in the cruel wild after just being hatched." She held it up to her face as she smiled. "Look at how cute you are! Who'd wouldn't want acutie pie like you?" The baby toxel in her arms responded by reaching an arm out and grabbing her nose. Aw! Cute.

You shook you head with a smile before standing. Lifting an arm up with your sobble clinging to it to allow it to freely crawl back onto your shoulder before you stood up slinging your pack over your shoulders. "C'mon. I'll tell you as we walk. The sooner we start the sooner we can reach Halbury and our next step of this little adventure."

[cheesyficwriter]

Hey! First of all, I loved that drunk Hermione fic. Will u pls write a angsty Romione smut fic with #6 of angst prompt list?

Hi Anon! I had so much fun writing drunk Hermione, so glad you enjoyed it. Thanks so much for the ask 💜 my first thought was that I actually have written something similar that fills the #6 angsty smut prompt (also includes "fuck you" as the prompt does 🤣), in a chapter of one of my completed multi-chapter fics, Lost in Translation. If you haven't read it, you can feel free to check it out here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28019949/chapters/68639082

Buuuut, I thought of another angle, so here you go 😀 rated M for mature themes and sexual situations.

One More Time

It was a Saturday night in late August and the Leaky Cauldron was filled to the brim with many young adult witches and wizards who previously attended Hogwarts. They gathered occasionally, once every few months, to catch up over pints and share stories from over the years.

Ron was seated on a stool at the bar, alternating between chatting about the Chudley Canons' most recent season with Seamus and flirting awkwardly with the unfamiliar blonde who had sidled up beside him only a few minutes after he had walked into the pub. 

Yet, he didn't miss the flash of brown, curly hair that appeared and disappeared from his view frequently throughout the evening. And he was left entirely too frustrated by the notion that this particular person had their eye on him. After about the fifth occurrence, Ron grabbed his pint and politely excused himself from the disappointed woman next him, as he walked through the crowd, pausing at various points to greet old friends. 

Old friends and lovers, that is. Ron stopped short just behind the familiar stature of one of his oldest friends, who also happened to be his ex-girlfriend. She was chatting away with Luna, seemingly oblivious to him standing behind her. It had been quite the year since they had decided, or rather Hermione had decided, they were best off going their separate ways. We argue too much, she had said, there is no way we can make this relationship work and we should end it before we lose our friendship completely. However, Ron thought bitterly to himself, there didn't seem to be much of a friendship left between them anyway. They had barely spoken over the recent months, instead exchanging only a few lackluster letters back and forth about their various travels and work endeavors. Of course, he had seen her quite a bit through mutual friend outings, but it was all very stiff and cordial. Their relationship wasn’t the same anymore and breaking up didn’t seem to resolve any issues between them. 

From Ron's current position, he could see Hermione surreptitiously glance over to the spot at the bar where he once was, brows now furrowed over in confusion as she found the spot to be vacant. Luna cleared her throat and gestured for Hermione to look backwards and it was then that Hermione's head whipped around to face Ron, and her lips parted in surprise. 

"Ron...hi," she breathed out quietly, almost too quietly to be heard over the boisterous noise in the room. 

"Why are you watching me, Hermione?" His tone remained neutral and flat, not bothering with any sort of formal greeting. 

Hermione instantly frowned at the question. He surveyed her face as it contorted into anger. "What are you going on about? I am not watching you." 

“You are. I’ve caught you five...no, six times, if you count the last look I just witnessed.” He pointed to his previous seat at the bar. Hermione turned scarlet from his words and Ron could see a muscle in her jaw twitch. 

“I’m surprised you’ve noticed anything with the way you were gawking over Rosie Cantini,” she sneered back. Was that the blonde’s name? Ron wouldn’t have known because he was too busy trying to sort out Hermione’s infuriating glances, although he would never admit that to her. 

“You left me. You don’t get to come in here and act like a jealous girlfriend when I’m just trying to enjoy my night.”

Hermione scoffed in his face, as her nostrils flared. “Oh, that’s rich! I haven’t been bothering you, have I? And may I just point out that you are the one that approached me tonight. I am not jealous!”

“Sure you’re not,” Ron spat out, just before he stormed off towards the loo without bothering to wait for a response. 

Hermione felt the rage pulse through her veins. She spun quickly on her heel and followed Ron determinedly to the opposite side of the pub, bypassing anyone who tried to get her attention along the way. She managed to reach the door he had dragged himself through just before it closed and she pushed it open wide with all of her might, fueled by the anger that flooded through her.  

Ron's eyes went round as Hermione propelled her way into the restroom, slamming the door shut behind her with a flick of her wand. She added silencing and locking charms before turning towards Ron, her eyes blazing with fire. 

“Are you bloody mental?” Ron shouted, his temper sparked by her invasion of privacy. 

"If I am, so what? I'm not going to just let you run off in the middle of a conversation, like a petulant child! Is it too hard to think that we can both be civilized adults about all of this?" 

"Fuck you."

Hermione’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Ron growled through gritted teeth, taking a step forward. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as he had her effectively pinned now to the back of the door. “Fuck you, and your rules, your incessant nagging, and your constant need to always be right. For once, just admit that the sight of me with another woman drives you mad.”

Hermione’s pupils flared and her lower lip quivered slightly, as her rage-filled expression morphed into a burning one filled with desire. 

Her lips were on Ron’s before he could even process the change in her tempered gaze. Ron let out a guttural moan as he pushed her hard into the door with a bang. One of his hands slid up to cup her cheek, his tongue gliding across her bottom lip just before he bit down on it, causing Hermione to whimper and dig her fingernails into his back. Ron’s other hand trailed its way down her body until he had firmly gripped her arse tight, driving her pelvis into his hardened erection poking through his trousers. 

He lifted her up off the floor, her legs wrapping around his hips instinctively, and he deposited her bum down onto the cold, solid countertop next to the sink. 

"Just one more time," Ron mumbled against her lips, already hiking her dress above her hips. 

"Yeah….one more time," Hermione agreed through labored breaths, her hands undoing the buttons on his trousers. Although, they had said this very same statement one month ago, right before they shagged on Hermione's kitchen table. And the month before that, and the month before that…

In one fell swoop, Ron had shoved his trousers and boxers down to his knees and Hermione slid out of her knickers to reveal her pulsating flesh. Not even having to ask about protection, knowing Hermione always took the potion regularly, he positioned himself at her entrance and pressed into her until he filled her completely. 

Both let out immediate grunts of pleasure, each comforted by the familiarity of the other’s body. Hermione gripped the edge of the countertop for leverage as Ron slammed into her over and over again. He buried his nose into the curls that bunched around Hermione’s shoulders and Hermione’s teeth grazed his shoulder through the cloth of his shirt. Neither took the time to comprehend the situation they had found themselves in, both instead choosing to absorb the sensation of skin against skin as they clung together. 

Their pleasure-filled moans echoed off the silenced walls. The anger that had been building between them had boiled over and the fast release was mutually satisfying. 

They didn’t speak. They never did, even when he would show up at her flat randomly, or when she would grab him by the arm at one of Ginny’s quidditch matches and pull him behind the stands. 

"We can't keep doing this," Ron eventually whispered, his voice raw and hoarse. 

"I know."

Ron nuzzled his nose with Hermione's. Her scent was intoxicating. Her body seemingly fit perfectly with his. No matter how hard he tried to fight it, he was consumed by her. He wasn’t quite sure if that feeling would ever go away.  

"Come home with me."

Hermione’s eyes glistened as she stared into the depths of Ron’s deep blue orbs, not willing to look away. "Okay."

Maybe tomorrow would be the day they would finally let go. Or maybe not. Maybe they aren’t ready yet. Or maybe they never will be. Maybe they were both still clinging to the hope, the hope that the other person would realize that they are meant for each other and that there is just simply nothing else that matters. 

[skullrock]

the campers, chapter five

chapter five - the disappearance 

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: You struggle with your feelings for Steve; something sinister lurks in the woods.

warnings: swearin’!

word count: 5.7k (I know this is ridiculous but I do not apologize...)

a/n: the is The Chapter folks! you can catch up on the series here! a big thx to the catsluts for beta reading this and instilling confidence into me when I thot this series was going to die by my blade I love u

===

The next day is a Monday, and you have a two hour break between lessons. You head to the lake with Steve, intending to learn how to play the coveted Kayak Ball.

“Do not splash me.”

Steve quirks a brow. “Or what?”

“I’ll flip your kayak.”

“You don’t have the muscles -”

You move quickly, splashing him with your paddle. Steve laughs, splashing you back.

“This isn’t what I was promised,” you say. “I was promised a game involving a ball.”

Steve twists and grabs the ball he’d brought - red, slightly smaller than a dodgeball - and holds it up with one hand. “This is the ball we use.”

“And you just… hit it with the face of the paddle?”

“Yep.”

“Doesn’t seem so hard.”

“We’ll see,” he beams. “Paddle back a bit.”

You do, creating a distance between you two. “C’mon, Harrington, let’s go.”

Steve throws the ball in the air and whacks it with the face of his paddle. It spins towards you, and you hit it with the paddle, almost like it’s a baseball bat. Steve drops his paddle and catches it.

“Jesus Christ, it’s not a bat.” He puts the ball down and lifts the paddles again. “You use the momentum it has to just tap it with the paddle.”

“I’m not good at this,” you frown, putting your paddle down.

“You tried once.”

“And I know my limits.”

“Here,” he says, paddling towards you quickly. He positions his kayak beside yours and reaches out for you. “Let me show you.” He leans far, balancing himself and the kayak while wrapping his arms around yours. When his hands come over yours to show you how to hold the paddle to tap the ball, your heart speeds up.

And you realize that Steve has really, really nice arms.

And nice hands.

And he smells really incredible.

Your stomach flips, a heat spreading from your chest up to your face, shading it pink. You stop breathing momentarily as Steve lifts your arms, showing you how to face the paddle towards the ball.

“Like this,” he says quietly. “And then you just - tap!”

“Oh.” You feel tense, because Steve’s breath is on your neck, and it tickles, and wow, hey, that feels good, actually,and oh, shit, it should not feel good.

Steve leans back into his space, brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

You turn to look at him, but you’re caught up in the little freckles that move down his jaw and to his neck. Steve leans forward. “Y/N?”

You shake your head, relaxing. “Oh, sorry. I was just thinking.”

“About how cool Kayak Ball is?”

You think quickly. “About how it would sound better if it was called Paddle Ball.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “That’s already a thing.”

“Is it?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “Guess nerds can’t know everything.”

You splash him with your paddle again, head still reeling a bit from the odd realization you had when his arms wrapped around yours. You want him away from you - he’s too close right now, and you’re starting to notice the blonde highlights in his hair. “Let’s try again.”

“You sure? I’m probably going to beat you, anyway.”

“Let’s go, Steve!”

He flashes you a smile and paddles away, allowing you to swallow down the thoughts you just had.

You felt absentminded the rest of the game, continuously messing up, trying not to look at him. You were at war with yourself, trying to understand what the hell just happened. Maybe Steve was attractive - there’s no harm in that, right? It seems like basic knowledge to everyone else at camp, so why can’t it be basic knowledge for you? Admitting that he’s cute doesn’t mean anything, right? Or does it? Are you still in some odd competition with him? Would you have lost if you liked him? Oh, God, do you like him?

“Hey,” Steve calls. “Are you okay over there?”

Your eyes had focused on the water instead of on Steve. You look back to him. He’s frowning, looking at you with concern.

You shake your head. “I’m just thinking about stuff. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot, too,” he admits, resting his paddles. “You don’t have to be sorry.”

“What have you been thinking about?”

Steve smiles and looks down to the water. “How happy I am here.” He looks up. “How happy I am that we’re friends.”

You can’t stop the blush that rises. “And why are you so happy that we’re friends?”

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “I guess I just think we get along really well.” He pauses. “Well - now we do.”

You smile softly. “Yeah, I think we do, too.”

You both stare at each other for a while, just smiling, before you realize what you’re doing. You check your watch and sigh. “Shit, I’ve gotta go to my next lesson.”

Steve clears his throat and looks away. “Oh - yeah, me too. We’re taking a hike today.”

“You sure you can handle that?”

“Probably not.” He points to himself with his thumbs. “I’m definitely outta shape.”

“Shut up,” you hiss. “You’re in perfect shape.”

“You thi-”

“Have you talked to Mia yet?”

Steve tenses slightly. While he’s very interested, something just feels off about seeing someone at camp. It’s a bit convoluted, he thinks - what’s he going to do when camp ends? He doesn’t just want to make out and leave. He wants more than that. And he’s not super sure if he’s going to find that with someone here. Still, he had talked to Mia at breakfast, and they agreed to have dinner together. She was beautiful - dark skin, dark hair, charming eyes. So he doesn’t know what his apprehension was.

“We’re having dinner tonight,” he responds, voice a bit stiff.

“You mean sitting together in a crowded cafeteria?”

Steve huffs. “I’m not sure what else there is to do.”

“Take her for a walk,” you suggest. “At sunset. On the lakeshore. That’s romantic.”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

“When was the last time you talked to a girl?”

Steve’s chest twists. “It’s been a while.”

“Just give it some time. She thinks you’re cute. It’ll work out.”

You start to paddle back to the shore, and Steve calls out to you. “See you later?”

“Sure!” you call back. “As long as you don’t get lost in the woods!”

Steve wonders why you always say that, but he realizes it actually is quite on the nose.

===

You didn’t expect to have an identity crisis over Steve Harrington, but here you were.

You pace your dorm that same night before heading to dinner, talking to yourself out loud. “He’s just cute. He’s cute. That’s it! Thinking he’s cute doesn’t mean I’m attracted to him.” You take a deep breath. “He’s just cute.”

But it didn’t help that Steve had changed so much. You couldn’t even call back to the memories of him being an asshole, because they weren’t relevant anymore. Well, they were, but you can’t hate the present Steve for it. He’d obviously gotten better. He was a dork, he was funny, he was kind, he smelled like pine and berries and -

“Shit!” you sigh, falling onto your bed. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, as if it would erase him from your memory.

You hear a knock on your door and another counselor, Brooke, pokes her head in. “You comin’ to dinner?”

You sigh and sit up. “I guess.”

“What’s your damage?” she asks. “You look hung up on something.”

“Nothing,” you say, standing and grabbing a jacket from the closet.

“You’ve been so upset this year. Is it because of Steve?”

You whip around to face her. “It’s not because of Steve!”

Brooke holds her hands up in defense. “Christ, okay. Then what’s it about?”

You pause, the fire in your eyes dimming. “Does - does thinking someone is conventionally attractive mean you like them?”

She scoffs. “What? No. You can say someone is cute but not like them.” She walks around you and sits on your bed. “But who is it?”

“Brooke -”

“You gotta tell me. It’s the rules.”

You sigh heavily. The cabin had made a pact that they’d tell anyone about their crushes - and all that got you was everyone talking about Steve. Now you’re thinking about Steve just like they are, and it gives you heartburn.

“They go to another school,” you say slowly.

“Cut the shit,” she says. “Is it Josh?”

You freeze - Josh! He’ll do. “How’d you know?”

Brooke beams. “I just know. You guys have this cute little love-hate relationship.”

Love-hate. It makes your stomach turn. “You got me.”

“C’mon,” she says, standing and taking your arm. “Let’s go to dinner and spy on him.”

In theory, it was a good plan - but you knew you’d be looking at Steve the whole night.

===

By the end of the week, you feel like the crisis has been averted. Mia and Steve were eating meals and spending their free time together, and the distance put between you two helped. You chalked it up to your brain going crazy over nothing, anxiety grasping at straws. You were starting to feel happy for him and Mia, who seemed to be having a good time together.

Steve sits with you instead of her Friday at lunch, though. Outwardly he passes it off like it’s not a big deal, but he knows he’s fucking up. He just needs some separation is all, and he hadn’t seen you in a while. He just wanted to catch up - that was it. Nothing wrong with that, right?

“How was your week?” he asks. “Do anything fun?”

“Not really,” you admit. “What about you?”

He shrugs. “Been okay.”

“Just okay?” you laugh. “You and Mia seem to be having fun.”

He stiffens just as he did on the lake. “Yeah, it’s been good.” He clears his throat. “So - I took the kids on a hike Monday.”

“Right, how’d that go?”

“Really great,” he says. “We found a really nice waterfall and the water’s deep enough to swim in.” His eyes light up. “We should go!”

You pause. “Yeah, sure. That sounds… fun. When?”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

“I am,” you say slowly. “Uh - should Mia come?”

“She’s got a project to do with her class. Is that okay?”

No, you think. You’re afraid of being alone with him again, afraid of the feelings coming back. “It’s cool.”

“What about two? It’ll give us time to sleep in.”

“Let’s meet at the fire pit,” you say, collecting your things. Your anxiety was creeping back in, face flushing. “Two o’clock.”

“I’ll see you then.”

As you walk away, Steve watches. He’s not sure what his deal is, but he really likes hanging out with you. He’s not sure if it’s relief from making amends with you, or something else. He just knows he enjoys your company - maybe even a bit more than he enjoys Mia’s.

He shakes that thought out of his head, though, and goes to gather his things. But the kids suddenly appear, slamming their trays down in an array around him. Suzie’s accompanied them, acclimating well with the group.

“Hey, lovebird,” Dustin says, smiling.

Steve’s stomach churns. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s nice to see you with a girl that likes you back,” Max says. Steve glares at her, but he knows she’s just kidding.

“Can we talk about anything else,” Mike groans, and El swats his arm gently, shushing him.

“What’s her name again?” Will asks.

“It’s Y/N,” Lucas responds casually, beginning to go ham on a jell-o cup.

Dustin and Steve both freeze. Steve’s blood feels cold in his veins and his eyes widen. “What?” he asks hoarsely.

Lucas looks up, mouth full of jell-o. “That’s her name, right? The one you were just sitting with?”

Steve feels sick. “No, I’m seeing Mia.”

The table goes silent, and Max kicks Lucas under the table. He throws an arm out, apologizing to her with his eyes, and Mike almost cackles. He doesn’t for fear of retribution from El.

“Sorry,” Lucas says, turning to Steve. “You guys just hang out together a lot.”

“Yeah, we’re friends,” Steve says defensively.

“Had me fooled,” Lucas shrugs.

Max turns to him with wide eyes. “You are so tone deaf!”

“What? Am I wrong?”

Everyone’s quiet, because he isn’t. It seems very obvious from their outside perspective that Steve is into you, except he isn’t. Or maybe he is. He can’t really unpack that right now.

“Gotta go,” Steve mumbles, grabbing his tray and heading off. Dustin gets up, patting Suzie on the arm to tell her I’ll be right back.

Dustin catches Steve just outside. “Don’t listen to them.”

Steve runs his hand through his hair, the other resting on his hip. “I don’t - I don’t want people to think….” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

But Dustin understands. “Do you?”

“What? No,” Steve says quickly. “We’re just friends, Dustin, honest.”

Dustin nods. “Then don’t worry about what they think.”

Steve runs his hand through his hair again. “I’ll try. ‘m gonna try to find Mia.”

“Good luck, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles softly. He extends his arms for them to do their handshake, starting to giggle about halfway through. He gently punches Dustin’s shoulder when they’re finished. “You mean a lot to me, dude.”

Dustin grins toothily. “Go get your girl.”

Steve salutes and walks off, but his good mood falters. He considers cancelling your plans tomorrow, but pushes past that. You’re just friends. You’ll always be friends. A simple hike and swim tomorrow isn’t going to change that.

===

The next day is gloomy, but it’s good for hiking. The air is cool on your bare arms as you and Steve head off into the woods, small bags in tow.

“It’s about three miles in, so I hope you don’t mind a hike,” he says, rolling his shoulders to adjust the straps of his bag.

“That’s the point of this, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes and elbows you gently. “Don’t forget swimming.”

“Did you find it yourself?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure I’m not the first person to find it,” he explains. “We don’t have waterfalls in Hawkins, so it’s pretty neat.”

“You sound easy to please.”

“I am,” he grins. “Can’t you tell?”

“Do you live by the woods?”

“Oh, God, yeah,” he says. “My backyard is lined with them. It’s kind of all there is in Hawkins.”

“Do you like them?”

Steve goes quiet, remembering all the bad that’s happened in them.

“I’ll take that as a no,” you say.

“They can be… intimidating,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “These woods aren’t like those ones at all.”

“How so?”

“Well,” he starts. “These ones are brighter. More welcoming. The trees aren’t too thick, so the sun can come through. It’s easier to see through them.”

“Scared something’s hiding there, Stevie?”

He blushes at the nickname, but he frowns. He stares straight ahead and avoids the question. You glance at him and then back at the trail, the silence not bothering you so much. You just appreciate the company, even if it makes you anxious.

Eventually, you both come across a clearing, a waterfall and swimming hole centered in the middle, surrounded by trees and rocks and moss. It was beautiful, and you whisper, “Holy shit,” out loud.

“Pretty nice, huh?” Steve smiles.

“You’ve really outdone yourself.”

He smiles over at you and you head to it, putting your bags down. Steve takes his shirt off, rolling it up and shoving it into his bag, keeping his shorts on to swim in. You divert your eyes from him as you peel off your own shirt and shorts, leaving you in a bathing suit.

Steve stares, and you blush heavily. “What?”

He blinks. “I feel underdressed.”

You sigh in relief and fold your clothes. “That’s your fault.”

You both get in, gasping the entire time because the water is so god damn cold, and wade for a while to get used to it. The cold water brings you to your senses a bit, and you feel more comfortable with him. You smile cheekily at him and say, “It’s nice to be somewhere that we can actually splash each other.”

His eyes get wide. “Don’t splash my hair.”

“Why? Don’t want the product to run out of it?”

He whips his arm and splashes you with water, making you gasp and shout. You rear up to splash him back, but he lunges for you, pulling your arms down.

“Don’t,” he laughs, tugging on your arms before pulling away. “I’ll sue you.”

“Your dad has a good lawyer, huh?”

It’s a low blow, but it only slightly hurts. “Of course.”

You both talk and wade for hours, the water slowly starting to feel warm on your skin. The clouds hang heavy in the air, but the atmosphere is light around Steve. He does some stunts for you, like front flipping off of a peak, and you clap sarcastically for him. He stops after a while, resting in a shallow part of the water as you float in the deep end.

“Steve?” you ask.

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

He laughs, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Are you still having nightmares?”

He stills and frowns. “No, I haven’t had any.”

You’re silent for a moment. “Do you usually have them?”

“I do when I’m at home.”

You’re quiet again, the sound of the water taking up the silence. “It sounds like a lot of bad stuff happened at home.”

Steve can’t help but to laugh, as it’s the understatement of the century. You frown at him, and he shrugs. “You could say that.”

“Do you want to talk?”

“It’s okay.”

“Well, I’m here for you.”

“I just don’t get it,” he says after a moment, pulling himself out of the water.

You furrow your brows and laugh. “What don’t you get?”

“How you’re so nice to me.”

You laugh again, confusion etched on your face. “Am I always an asshole or something?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I just… after everything….”

You frown and swim to him, resting your forearms on the rock he’d climbed out onto. “Do you want me to be an asshole?”

“No. I just - I deserve… you shouldn’t be nice to me.”

You pull yourself out now, sitting beside him, frowning more. You look at him for a while, pulling your knees up to your chest. Finally, you whisper, “You said you don’t remember.”

“I don’t,” he says softly, staring at the moss that stretched up the cold stone. “I just... don’t remember.”

You feel anger bubbling in your gut. “How don’t you remember?”

“I remember some things.” He’s quiet for a moment. “I remember one time I tripped you and you fell on the gravel. I remember that your blood was so red. I remember feeling so bad, but I made my friends laugh, and that was more important to me.”

You turn to him, pointing to a long scar on your knee. “You did this that day.”

He stares at it for a long while before looking up at you, tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

You soften a bit. “What else do you remember?”

“I remember when Tommy stole your clothes from the pier. I remember telling him to stop, but he asked me if I was a pussy, and I didn’t want to be… so I just. Let him do it.”

“That sucked,” you say. “That really fucking sucked.”

“I can’t even imagine,” he says, so quietly that you can hardly hear him. He shakes his head slightly. “Everything else I remember doesn’t matter. I don’t know if it’s from concussions or what. I just… try so hard to forget who I was. But it doesn’t work.” He sniffles. “Because I know… I know that I did those things. And I’m sorry I can forget while you have to remember.”

It’s quiet for a while. You absentmindedly trace your scar with your index finger, brows furrowed hard. It’s odd to feel like this around him - like you’re mad, but you’re not. Because you have a memory that you kept, buried deep down, because you didn’t want to remember the good he did.

But he did good things.

“There was one time at night,” you start. “We were playing tag. And it was so pretty. The sky was pink and the fireflies just started to come out.” You look at him. “Do you remember?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“It was stupid,” you say, starting to smile. “The game, I mean. We all kept cheating because we didn’t want to lose. We’d say that we weren’t actually touched when we were. It made the game complicated.” You press your lips together for a moment. “And then Tommy… he just. Shoved me.” You mimic it, how hard he pushed at you. “And I fell right on my face in mud.”

Steve’s tense, his hands clenched into fists, holding the fabric of his wet shorts within them. You can almost see a vein popping out of his temple, his jaw clenched so tight, and you want to reach out and smooth it. But you continue.

“And I was so pissed. I could have murdered him, Steve. And I wanted to cry, because I had mud, like, everywhere. And I felt so dumb and stupid and - it hurt, you know? But then you came out of nowhere when Tommy ran away.” You pick at some grass, growing through a crack in the stone. “I thought you were there to finish me off. But you took off your shirt, and you cleaned me up. Best as you could, with a dry shirt.”

Steve turns to you quickly, his features softening. He furrows his brows and shakes his head slightly in disbelief.

“It’s true,” you say. “It happened. And I just stared at you, like, what the hell are you doing? But you kept cleaning me up. And you kept asking if I was okay, and you kept saying you were sorry. And I thought that was so weird, because you didn’t do it. You could apologize for Tommy, but not for yourself.” You smile sadly. “Maybe because it was Tommy and the others the whole time.”

“No,” Steve says. “It was me. I did those things.”

“You did,” you agree. “But you didn’t have… y’know, pure malicious intent. Because you’re good, Steve Harrington. Right to your core.”

Steve doesn’t understand why you’re saying this. Why you’re coddling him. Why you’re making excuses for him. He’s felt shitty for so long, about everything - about high school, about being a shitty boyfriend, about being a child bully.

“I don’t… you - I don’t deserve this,” he says weakly.

“Maybe not.” You smile slightly. “But I’ll still say it.”

He looks back at the moss, shoulders relaxing, and you can’t help but to reach out for him. You lace your fingers through his and squeeze, like you did at the bonfire and on the shore. You bring it close to you, resting it on your knee, your hand still locked in his.

“What matters is that you’ve changed,” you say. “And I know you have. Everyone knows you have. You’re not who you used to be. And, yeah, you’ll always carry that person with you. But they’re only a fraction of what you are now. And you’re good now. You’ve always been good… you were just… misguided.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he repeats, and you elbow him gently.

“You deserve every good thing. You’re sweet and kind and caring, and you’re funny, even if you’re dumb sometimes.”

He looks at you, giving you a tear filled smile. “Yeah, I’m pretty stupid sometimes, huh?”

You lean into his side, squeezing his hand once more. “Only sometimes. You’re smart in your own way.”

A silence stretches over you two again. You feel so comfortable here, in the silence with Steve - his warm hand in yours, soft and smooth and big, your side nuzzled into his. It should scare you, but it doesn’t. It just feels right.

Steve wants to tell you everything. He wants to tell you about the last three years - about having his ex girlfriend’s best friend die in his pool, so he can’t use it anymore; how he almost died because some dickhead tried to beat him to death for standing up for a kid; how his ex girlfriend called him bullshit and left him for someone he was told not to worry about; how he was drugged and trapped in a secret Russian base under his part-time job. He wants to spill it all; he wants to hear your words of encouragement, soothing his wounds like aloe. He wants to hear you call him brave, and strong. He wants to hear a lot of things from you - and it’s scary, but good. He knows he can’t, but he wants to, and it kills him.

Instead, he decides to share some things he does remember with you.

“I remember some other things,” he says. “Good things.”

“Like?”

He smiles. “You used to wear your hair in those pigtails with pink scrunchies.”

“God,” you laugh. “Don’t bring that up.”

“And you would laugh so loud.” He laughs with you. “You could hear it from the other side of camp.”

“It’s still loud,” you say.

“It’s nice,” he says. “You used to be so quiet except for your laugh. I always liked it.”

You pull away from him slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “No way.”

“Yes, way,” he says. “I always wanted to -” And he stops, staring at you, smile faltering.

“Always wanted to what?”

“Y’know,” he whispers. “Be the one to - to make you laugh.” He quirks his brows and shakes his head, looking down. “I don’t mean it like that.”

You want to ask him “like what?” so desperately, more than anything - but you stay quiet, averting your eyes as well. Steve unravels his hand from yours, leaving you feeling cold, and he clears his throat.

“I told you, I remember a lot of insignificant things,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

You quirk your head. “Memories of me are insignificant?”

He looks at you, shocked. “No. Memories of you are some of the best I have.”

You feel like you’ve fallen through a trapdoor, the breath knocked out of you. It’s bizarre, how he remembers you so fondly, while you’ve remembered him as being the person who ruined your life. It almost makes you angry, but he looks so innocent sitting before you - his eyes soft, slightly frowning, brows knitted together. You have the urge to reach out for him again until your senses kick in - this is wrong, this is all wrong, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

You stand quickly. “It’s getting late, we should probably head back before it gets dark.”

Steve frowns, unsure if he upset you or not, but he pulls himself up. He’s pretty sure he didn’t mean anything by it, at least. It’s true - the few good memories he has of you always make him smile, make him feel warm and good. He’s never unpacked that, and he has no intentions to. It’s just memories. You’re not that little girl anymore, and he’s not that little boy. It doesn’t matter.

You gather your things, throwing your dry clothes back on over your wet ones, and take off. It’s only about six, but the clouds in the sky make it seem darker, almost more sinister. You don’t think much of it, but Steve notices, putting him on high alert.

About a mile into the walk, a deer approaches the two of you, getting incredibly close. You gasp with glee, looking at Steve to see if he’s seeing this.

“Look how close it is!”

But Steve’s filled with dread. Something’s not right. He claps to see if it runs off, but it doesn’t.

“What the hell?” you ask him. “It’s just a deer. We’re like princesses right now.”

Steve’s hardly listening, surveying the land, and then he realizes - the woods are dead quiet.

“What’re you -”

“Shh!” He holds his hand out to beckon you to be quiet, and you shut up quickly. Steve’s typical goofy behavior is gone, replaced with a hard face and a tense body. You’d never seen him like this, even when he’s obviously remembering something that’s upset him. It makes you scared, and you take a step closer to him. “Steve?”

“Listen,” he whispers, frozen in place.

You strain your ears. “I don’t hear anything.”

He looks over at you, eyes wide. “Exactly.”

At this point, the deer has gone away, leaving the two of you alone. You feel a bit eerie, but try to brush it off. “Steve, it’s alright.”

Steve scans the woods again, thankful for the space between the trees, before relaxing. He wraps an arm around you, walking you down the path. “Let’s go.”

You shrug him off of you, because you like the weight of his arm on you too much. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he says. He doesn’t want to admit that he has a bad feeling - like maybe if he shoves it down, it won’t amount to anything. “It’s just weird, that’s all.”

You start to wonder if maybe this is what his nightmares are about, the woods. You want to ask, but you know he won’t open up about it. So you continue to walk beside him, your mind wandering off to him. The spikes of anxiety do nothing to keep the thoughts of Steve out, as much as you wish they would. You wish you could forget him like he forgot you. You wish you could forget his dumb, long hair, with highlights, and how his lips always look glossy, and how strong his arms and hands are. You wish so desperately to forget, and by the time you return to camp, you feel sick.

Steve’s relaxed by then, thankful that everything at camp seems fine. His smile is back, and he’s walking a little slower. “You going to dinner?”

“I think I should go to bed,” you say, voice hoarse. “I feel a little sick.”

He frowns. “Was it something I did?”

“No,” you explain quickly. “Just the excitement, I think.”

“Do you want me to grab you something and bring it to you? Or maybe Mia could -”

Your stomach twists painfully. “I’m okay, Steve. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You march off to your cabin quickly, forcing tears back until you can collapse on your bed. Your roommate is luckily out, so you shut the door, fling yourself on your bed, and start crying.

Every horrible emotion runs through you - sadness, anger, guilt, fear, remorse. It hits you like a tidal wave, leaving you shaking. So many thoughts go through your head. Thoughts that you never thought that you’d ever have.

It’s official - you’re into him. You like him. It’s a new feeling, foreign for you. You never once had a lick of attraction towards Steve until this summer, and it’s hit you so quickly that you hardly have time to recover. It should be a happy thought. It should be good, and freeing. But it’s everything but that. It’s scary, and horrific, and anxiety inducing.

You could have been friends. You could have gotten along. You both could have been lifelong friends, ones that turned to lovers. You could have sent each other letters when you weren’t at camp, ones that were riddled with confessions and feelings. You could have been there for each other, even if it didn’t turn to romance. You could have had a friend. The memories Steve had shared with you hurt, because he was never bad, and yet he was. It confuses you. It makes you mourn for what you could have had.

If you ever see Tommy Hagan again, you’ll hit him on sight.

On the other hand, you’re longing for something with Steve now. The new Steve, the one who’s dorky and funny and charming. Caring, kind, sweet. You want it so desperately that it rips you up inside, makes your chest feel empty. And you know, without a doubt, nothing will ever happen. Nothing can ever happen. He’s your childhood bully and new friend. Nothing could happen between you two. Your pride is too big, and Steve’s with someone else. Someone youhad set him up with.

You feel like an idiot. For liking him now and hating him then. For ever hating him. For ever liking him.

You cry heavily, burying your face into your pillow, and contemplate your next steps, when the door bursts open.

You flip over, annoyed that your feelings were interrupted. Your roommate Jen is in the doorway, her eyes wide and face flushed, panting heavily. Your protests die on your lips and you jump up. “What happened?”

“One of the campers,” she pants. “They’re missing.”

===

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[forever-rogue]

Step Into the Daylight - Part 8

Summary: The journey to Ilum turns out to be very illuminating. 

A/N: Thank you guys as always for your wonderful words and support. I hope you enjoy! Taglists are open, and as always feedback is welcome! xx

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin x Reader)

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: none

SERIES MASTERLIST

MANDALORIAN MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Soft light filtered in through the small windows of your hut as your eyes fluttered open. You let out a small yawn as you felt a small tugging coming from the foot of the bed, realizing that was most likely the reason you were awake, rather than the light. A small coo met your ears as you slowly sat up and spotted a pair of small green hands trying to climb up the bed. Keeping your gaze firmly trained on the edge of the bed and making sure you didn’t look in Din’s direction, you leaned towards him. 

“Good morning, my little love,” you reached over and picked up the small green child. He made a small sound of content as he settled into your arms and looked at you with wide, innocent eyes, “always the early riser, huh? Will you come and lie down with me for a while?”

He looked at those with those big, gentle eyes and seemed to nod slightly as you laid back down with him at your side. It was comfortable, a quiet moment that was more peaceful than anything you had experienced in so long. Din had stirred slightly, but still was fast asleep as you settled back down. Even in his sleep, he held you close, an arm draped around your waist, his face still nestled against your back and his breathing slow and steady. It felt normal, like it was something had happened often, rather than being the first time. This was your little family, and although you knew that this was not meant to be your every day routine for some time, you longed for it, almost ached for it now that you had gotten a little taste of the sweet domestic bliss. 

Snuggling back down and resting a hand on top of Din’s, you allowed your eyes to close again, your other arm tightly holding the child. You didn’t know how much more time you had to enjoy and bask in this, so you were going to take full advantage of it while you could.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next time you were roused from slumber, the space next to you was empty and the child was gone too. You rubbed the remaining bits of sleep from your eyes as you sat up, stretching and enjoying the feeling of your joints cracking. 

“Good morning,” you turned and found Din sitting at the table, armor and helmet completely back on, feeding the child that seemed to possess a ravenous hunger as he continued to grow. You gave him a small smile as you slid out of the bed and walked over to them. You had a distinct feeling that he wore a smile as well, even despite the helmet. You sat down in the chair next to him, petting the child in the space between his large ears, “I hope you slept well.”

“Yes,” you felt your cheeks start to heat up immediately at the mere thought of the intimacy you shared the evening before, “I hope you did too.”

“Better than I have in a long time,” he admitted, his hand finding yours and resting gently on top of it. You let out a small sound of surprise, biting on your bottom lip. He tilted his head slightly and looked like he was about to say something else, but a loud knocking on the door quickly cut him off. 

Jeele opened the door and PC quickly rolled in, coming over and beeping excitedly at you. You greeted him and gave him a few reassuring touches before he was overcome with joy at the sight of his newest little friend. Jeele looked between the two of you and you pulled your hand back instinctively.

“It is time,” she stated simply, “we should leave as soon as you are both ready we shall leave for Ilum.”

“I just...how are we going to get there without coordinates, and since neither of us have heard it?” you asked and she gave you a look that made you wonder why you even questioned her. You shrugged lightly as you exchanged a look with Din.

“I know where we are to go,” she answered simply, “and so does the droid now. He will be to assist.”

Din let out a small sigh as he looked between the droid and the child, who were already playing together, lost to everything else. You caught his eye and gave him a small, reassuring nod, silently trying to tell him it would be okay. You still didn’t know about his little vendetta against droids, but you hoped you would get it out of him or at least have him tell you a little bit more.

“Our journey will be just fine,” she insisted, “but just remember to dress yourselves and the little one warmly. Ilum is a cold and unforgiving place.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you had set foot back on the Razor Crest, a familiar warm rush hit you, bringing a smile to your face as you became reacquainted with your home.

Home.

This was it. Because Din and the child were here. And now PC would be too - or so you hoped. You hadn't exactly broached that subject with Din yet. When you returned to the small sleeping quarters you had once occupied, you found that he had left everything exactly as it was before you had left. The sentiment alone brought a smile to your face. The sight of a small bundle sitting on the cot and waiting for you only increased it.

Setting your bag down, you gently walked over and gently picked up the soft surprise. They were new clothes - a beautiful winter white set of pants and a tunic, along with a beautifully embroidered cloak. The fabric was soft, but thick, clearly meant for the cold weather. You couldn't help but hug the clothes to your chest, heart soaring at the idea that Din had taken the time out to acquire and pick these garments just for you.

"I hope you like them," his voice caught you off guard as you turned and found the Mandalorian standing in the doorway, "Jeele said to get warm clothes for everyone before we came. I...hope you find them to your liking.”

"They're beautiful," you gave him a small smile as you set them back down, "thank you, so much."

He gave you a small nod, and you a moment of silence passed between the two of you. But before you were even aware of it, your feet carried you across the small space and threw your arms around the armored man. He took a moment to respond, but he slowly wrapped his arms you, "there's nothing to thank me for, mesh'la."

"You're going to have get a new line," you grinned at him, "because I can and will thank you whenever I so desire."

You heard what you were sure was a snort of laughter from under the helmet, but before he could say anything else, you were interrupted by the loud beeping and giggling coos of PC and the child. Sighing lightly, Din reached down and picked up the small green bundle, letting him climb onto his shoulder.

"Come," Jeele’s voice cut through whatever you were going to say, and Din gave her a stiff nod before following her back to the cockpit. An inadvertent little sigh escaped your lips as PC beeped at you and you nodded in understanding. 

“Is it that obvious?” you asked as he rolled against your leg and nudged you fervently. Yeah, it was that obvious. If he was human you were positive the droid’s eyebrows would be raised high enough to reach his hairline, “I don’t...I don’t want to lose him.”

It was the first time you had admitted to out loud to yourself, let alone anyone else. He had a small sound of reassurance, prompting you to bend over and pull him into a hug, “maybe I can tell him one day. I mean what if he doesn’t even feel the same?”

He chirped a few more times are you rolled your eyes and shook your head, “just because we spent the night together doesn’t mean anything...what if he was just lonely? And cold?”

You started to head out and towards the cockpit, ready to take your familiar spot in the co-pilot’s seat behind Din. PC rolled after you, chiding you in the manner that reminded you of a parent, “people share beds all the time and it doesn’t mean anything and don’t argue with me...”

A few more furious beeps, “he does not look at me that way.”

“Who doesn’t look at you in what way?” you stopped dead in your tracks as you came  face to face with the Mandalorian in question. You’d thought for sure he would already be in the cockpit, but you proven wrong, yet again. PC peeked out from behind you and beeped; you were glad that Din seemingly couldn’t understand him, but you kicked him back gently with your foot anyway. 

“No one,” you shrugged lightly, but just by the subtle tilt of his visor, you could tell he didn’t believe you. You could have dismantled that droid on the spot, “it’s nothing...shouldn’t you be in the cockpit?”

“Hmm,” he mused quietly in that stoic way he tended to do. Sometimes you didn’t mind, other times it drove you crazy. Like right now. You really wished you could see what was going on behind the helmet, and more importantly in his mind, “I was heading that way...were you coming?”

“Do...do you want me to?” you perked up slightly, sure that PC was watching you intently. You were glad that he wasn’t able to speak, but it would be hell when Din learned to interpret what he was saying. Of course you wanted to go with him, it had become so familiar, and you had missed his company more than anything.

“Always,” he promised softly, turning on his heel and heading towards the ladder to being his ascent up the ladder. It was hard not to stare at him, especially his backside, which you’d studied on more than one occasion. Not that you wanted to objectify him, but he was just...very appealing. Every part of him; and the fact that you’d never seen his face, well, it just added to the mystery. But that face, those lips had pressed kisses to your shoulder just the evening before, as he had nestled tightly against you. How were you ever supposed to recover from that?

“Master,” you turned to Jeele who was currently very deep in concentration as the droid and child played around her. Maybe one day you’d manage to have her level of concentration and be able to meditate properly, “if you don’t need me right now...”

“Join your Mandalorian,” she insisted quietly, not even bothering to open her eyes. A small smile had stretched over her features, “you have much to discuss.”

Opening and closing your mouth a few times, you wondered what she meant, but you weren’t going to question her wisdom; she’d been right more often not and you didn’t have a reason not to trust her. You sighed slightly at the other two, pointing a finger at PC, “you two behave. Otherwise you might accidentally deactivate and get left behind...again”

He chirped furiously at you, but you raised an eyebrow before turning back to join Din. You weren’t sure why, but your stomach was fluttering and your heart rate was elevated. This was just Din. You’d known him for some time now, why where you suddenly feeling this way? Shaking your head to clear your mind, you poked your head up and found him sitting in the pilot’s seat, looking relaxed for once as he stared out in the vast forest area that you had called home for the last six months. 

“I’ll almost miss it,” you mused as you made your way and slipped into your old spot, tucking your legs under you as you watched him closely, trying to read his expression. But it was hard; it was almost like he had put up a wall to block you out. Not in a negative way...almost as if he was nervous. You could feel his energy, especially now that you were so much more attuned to things, “it’s a lovely place, but I think I’m ready to go.”

“It’s peaceful,” he noted as you nodded, “but-”

“It’s not home,” you finished for him, “do you want to see something cool?”

Your hands were practically itching with desire to show him some of the things you had learned in your separation. There was so much, so many wondrous things you had learned, so much knowledge gained. 

“Show me then, Mesh’la,” he was amused as you nodded, flicking your fingers tightly as you turned on the ship. He was startled for just a moment before he realized what you had done, a short bark of laughter reaching your ears, “very impressive. It took you months to learn that?”

“Din Djarin! You’re so mean,” your eyes widened in surprise, but you realized he was just joking, “I’ll have you know that I’ve learned more than that! Wait until we can practice some sparring - you’ll be most impressed then!”

“I have no doubt,” he promised, reaching back and gently resting a hand on your leg, giving your thigh a small squeeze. He let his gloved hand linger for just a moment before turning back to the console and punching into the coordinates that were given to him by Jeele and PC. She had practically made him swear to secrecy, and Din knew better than anyone about respecting things such as this, “it’ll be some time before we’re there. Even if we make a jump to hyper space.”

“Great,” you sighed heavily, leaning back in your seat, “nothing like having time to stress and worry.”

“Are you worried?” he asked gentle and you shrugged your shoulders in a noncommittal response. You weren’t exactly sure what you were feeling; a bundle of nerves, fear of the unknown, worry that somehow you would fail. A combination of a million things at once, and yet nothing at the same. A sense of calm was washing over you, perhaps reassurance from the force? Or maybe Din’s calm nature was rubbing off on you.

“Not really...” you gave him a small smile, “it’s just...it’s so silly, right, but it’s just this terrible fear that I...might not be cut out for any of this. That somehow I’ll fail. And then...”

“You won’t fail,” there was a cool confidence to his tone, like he was so set in his opinion that there was no way you could change his mind. You knew you couldn’t - he was a stubborn man when he made his mind up. Another of his many endearing, if not sometimes frustrating, trait, “look at what you have accomplished, what you have done.”

“I’ve done nothing,” you scoffed lightly. 

“You’ve done so much more than you know,” he turned to face you, the black T of his visor was concentrated firmly on your face. A warmth crept up your eyes and you looked away, focusing on a loose thread on the edge of your tunic. He made a small sound before turning back to the controls while you pondered over his words. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

You sat in comfortable silence for time, staring out at the stars of space. You’d never felt as small and insignificant as you did when you watched the stars, but Din never made you feel like either of those things. He made you feel important, and for a long time you didn’t know quite what word to use but you knew now - loved. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to speak washed over you, and you found yourself asking the question before you fully processed what you were doing.

“Din?” your voice faltered slightly as you stared at the back of his helmet. He turned in seat to face you, making sure everything was properly on autopilot before giving you his full attention. He leaned back in his seat and stretched his long legs out in front of him, “do you...have you....have you ever had a riduur?”

He tensed ever so slightly, and while he remained silent for a moment, you could see the tension all over his body language. Biting your lip, you looked away for a moment, thinking that you must have surely overstepped your boundaries. Ready to apologize and come up with an excuse, you opened your mouth, but he was faster, “how do you know what that means?”

“I...I had a lot of time to myself,” you stated the obvious, relieved to hear that he didn’t seem annoyed or mad, “and there were so many old books, printed, and datapads with information. It’s amazing what kind of things that were just abandoned. There was a lot on Mando’a...and your culture. I...was curious. I wanted to learn more, I tried learning your language, but PC said I wasn’t very good. He’s programmed to know a lot of different languages; I was able to restore that for him anyway.”

He let out a small sound, somewhere from deep within his chest as he locked his gaze onto yours, “you tried learning Mando’a?”

“Yes,” you smiled lightly, “to be able to speak to you in it.”

“Oh,” he was glad for the helmet, once again. You would have seen the brilliant crimson that crept up in his cheeks as he watched you with pure adoration; no one had ever done something like that for him. But then he realized, “so you know what....”

“I’d never heard it before....but I vaguely remembered reading that word. So...yes,” you answered his unfinished question with a grin that threatened to break your face in half. He nodded his head and nudged his foot with yours, trying to reassure him that it was okay. A sense of warmth spread throughout his limbs and he wished he could kiss you. He wished he could just rip off the helmet then and there and finally kiss you the way he been wanting to for so long.

“No,” he said after a short while, “I’ve never had a riduur before. It’s never...no...”

You didn’t know why but you bit the inside of your cheek at his confession; but you didn’t want to get your hopes too much. Just because he called you Mesh’la, and you’d shared a bed, nothing was worth getting too caught up in. Maybe...he was just being kind. But still - the little flip your heart did was undeniable. 

“Din?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something else?” he nodded deftly, “droids...why don’t you like them?”

There was a pregnant pause as he crossed his arms over his chest and despite his best efforts, a small sigh still reached your ears. Surely you had done it; you’d pushed him past his limits and he was not going to have it any longer. For the most part, he was a fairly collected man, he wasn’t quick to anger, unless the moment called for it, for all intents and purposes. But this must have been it. 

“You’ve told me so much about your past,” he said after some time, looking around the cockpit and finding it hard to look at you, despite the barrier between the two of you, “you’ve always trusted me. Why?”

“Because you cared about me when you didn’t have to,” years of living in servitude and then being some sort of renegade on your own had made trust a difficult thing. You never...really trusted anyone, no one stuck around long enough or ever earned it...but Din had. He had earned your trust, in an unspoken manner the moment he chose to save your life without reason, without the promise of anything in return, without inhibition, “you never asked questions, you never wanted anything, but you saved me. Why did you do it?”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“Exactly,” you gave him a soft half smile, “that told me all I needed to know about you, Din.”

A slight quirk of his helmet was enough to tell you that he was quickly choosing over what to say, your words echoing loudly in his head. Eventually he turned back to you and stared at you long and hard; how you wished you could see the determination and intensity of his face, “I was a foundling once. I was not born into Mandalorian culture. I was taken in and raised, trained, in the ways of the Mandalore, the creed.”

You crossed your legs under you and leaned forward in your seat, giving him your full attention. You would have never known - he was so protective of, so dedicated to this way of life, the way, that you were almost positive that he would have known it from birth. A small pit settled in your stomach and told that there could be no good, no happy, explanation for why he was a foundling. Reaching over, you grabbed his hand and gave it a light touch, silently telling him that he did not have to continue, to delve into areas that he was not ready to you, “Din-”

“During the fall of the Republic, there was a separatist attack on my village, where we lived. The droids came and destroyed everything; my parents hid me in a bunker,” he paused for a moment, getting choked up as he relived the memory that had haunted him for so long. Turning his hand over, you laced your fingers with his, holding onto his has tightly as possible, giving there was more you could, “they died almost instantly. I was sitting there, waiting to be next, ready to meet my fate when the hatch reopened this B2 droid was staring me in the face.”

“But you were saved,” you stated the obvious, “by a Mandalorian.”

“Yes,” there was a certain sadness to his answer and it carried a lot of weight. You wondered if he ever spoke to anyone else about this, if he’d ever gotten the chance to tell his story. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to; but you hoped that this was at least somewhat cathartic in some way. It didn’t change how you felt about him - if nothing else, it made the fondness in your heart grow stronger. Maybe that’s why he’d saved you, “they took me in, trained me in the fighting corps, I became one of them.”

“This is the way,” you repeated the phrase you had heard him say countless times before. He repeated it after you, his vice a soft, gentle thing as he took your hand and held it to his face where his cheek would, almost in reverence, “thank you for trusting me and telling me your story.”

“I haven’t....it’s been a long time,” he confessed, “since I have spoken so candidly, with another. I’m more used to be being alone.”

“You’re not alone,” you promised, “you’ve got me, you’ve got him, and if...you’re willing, the droid. I know, it’s a lot to ask of you and had I known-”

“It can stay,” he said quietly, “I can see how much he means to you.”

“He was the only thing I had while I was away,” you chuckled lightly, “he knows too much. He knows...he’s even excited to meet you.”

“The droid?!”

“I’ve told him a lot about you,” your face felt like it was on fire as you confessed. You felt more like a young girl with a crush rather than a woman grown, “about how you saved me, came back for me, did everything for me. Without you, none of this would have ever been possible.”

“You saved me too,” he reminded as you slid out of seat and stood in front of him. He looked up and watched you closely. His heart was pounding what seemed like a million beats per second as he mirrored your actions, “maybe we saved each other.”

“Maybe we did,” his hands found your face, the smell of the soft, worn leather invaded your senses. He quickly pulled them off and tossed them on the console, wanting - needing - to feel your skin with his. His touch was warm, electric even he gently cradled your face, his long fingers tracing over your features, “can I...ask you something else?”

“Yes,” his breathing was slightly ragged as he vowed to commit your face to memory, wanting to capture this moment forever, “anything.”

“When was the last time...someone saw you?” you bit your lip and looked away for a moment, only to be pulled back in by his gentle touch, “not that I...I would never...”

“Not since I was young, when I swore the creed,” but you’d known that already, known that from your research into his adopted culture, from what you of him, “once it is on...if it is removed you cannot wear it again. Only a child or a riduur would be allowed to see.”

“Oh,” you were neither of those things. Only the small green adopted son he had found would be privileged enough to see him completely. Maybe you would never see. But, as you had already accepted in your heart without hesitation, if you never saw him without the helmet, then that was okay. Nothing changed who he was, or how you felt about him or how you cared for him.” 

“I....mesh’la,” he started but trailed off, resting his forehead against yours, the beskar cool against your warm skin. You could tell he wanted to say something more, and your own heart was pounding at a frenzied pace as you willed him to go on, “I...”

“We’ve arrived, we must begin our descent,” you almost jumped back from Din as Jeele’s head poked up into the cockpit, startling you both. You cleared your throat as Din nodded and pulled back from you, sitting back in the pilot’s seat, “I suggest you change into your new clothes. It was will be cold and unforgiving.”

Casting a look at Din who was pointedly staring at the console you nodded before following Jeele and climbing back down the ladder to change. Your new journey was starting; you weren’t sure if that was causing your nerves or the fact that there was clearly something new developing between you and the Mandalorian. You were on the precipice of....something. And you were curious as a loth-cat to know exactly what it would be. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Ilum was exactly how Jeele had describe; it was freezing, windy, and everything was covered with glittering snow and ice as far as the eye could see. How could something like this remain untouched and hidden to almost everyone in the galaxy? 

You stepped off the Crest, and despite how warm your new garb was, there was still a biting chill that caused you to shiver. You looked over at Din and he seemed completely nonplussed, along with Jeele and PC. For his own safety and comfort, the small child had been left on the ship, to be tended to by the droid. You bent down and offered him a small embrace, “it’ll be okay. I’ll see you both again soon.”

He beeped at you before retreating into the ship and leaving just the three of you. Trying to stop your teeth from chattering you turning to Jeele, attempting to liven the situation, “are we sure this isn’t Hoth?”

“Positive,” she was not responded, starting to move forward without you. Din caught your eye and you both shrugged in response as you trailed after her small figure; at least he offered a small chuckle.

It was a quiet trek for sometime, the only sounds meeting your ears was the loud whistling of the wind as it rushed around your ears. This was some sort of cruel initiation right, it had to be. 

But the small woman suddenly came to an abrupt stop in front of you, holding her had as you and Din almost bowled her over. 

“What’s wrong?” you could see him reaching at his for a blaster, his fingers twitching slightly. He was always on the defense. You couldn’t feel much of anything, no sense of danger met your senses. You looked at Din and shook your head, letting him know that it was okay. The tension didn’t leave his shoulders but he dropped his hand and motioned for you to get behind him anyway, out of instinct. You stepped behind him and tried to see what Jeele was doing as appeared to have spotted someone. 

“Who are you?” it was a man’s voice, completely foreign and unbeknownst to you. You peek around Din’s shoulder as you tried to make him out. 

“We are friends,” Jeele turned and beckoned for you to come forward and join her. You gave Din a small squeeze of reassurance as you stepped out from behind Din and walked over to her, stopping at her side, “it is time for her to make her journey.”

“What is your name?” he didn’t sound hostile, or threatening, but curious. He was bundled up against the cold but you could make out a few ginger locks poking out from under his cloak. He appeared to be close to Din’s age, or what you assumed to be his age, if not a number of years older. 

“Y/N,” you told him firmly, “Y/N L/N. Who are you?”

A small smile played along as his features as he pulled back the hood of cloak to reveal a shock of ginger hair and a kind smile, “I’m Cal. Cal Kestis.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[thenickelportrust]

Scene Practice 1

Hello everyone! I thought it'd be fun to try out some practice scenes I'm planning to eventually put into Model Citizens. These are just scenes that have been floating around in my head that I have planned, but want to get a better handle/idea of how they play out. 

(None of them will have any major spoilers, any minor spoilers are going to be ones already talked about publicly here)

I have a few of these planned to put up, and might do one a month for a bit as some exercise.

This Month's Short: Confessing to Yolanda with an Asexual MC

_______

You had grown used to standing in this room. This wide room with the wood trim, and the wide, flat plane of glass that made up the back wall. You had grown used to a sight you thought, the first time you were here, you could never get used to. The night sky itself was always dark and starless over Nickelport, the nebula over your heads drowned out by the flood of city life. But the stars weren’t gone entirely, no, instead they’d been moved beneath you. Beneath your feet onto this polished black marble that reflected the scattering of neon that dotted the jagged Nickelport horizon. You could see, up here, in Yolanda Waltz’s private study, why this really was called the district of neon stars.

And standing over these artificial stars, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she stepped towards a pitcher full to the brim with fresh lemon water, is Yolanda Waltz herself.

You wonder, now, how long it took her to grow used to the stars being beneath you. Was she as quick as you to accept the fact that you were walking over the faux-Milky Way up here? Or maybe she never had to grow used to it. It wouldn’t have been as sudden for her, after all, since she was the one who built the monument to respite that the Chat Blanc has become. She would have had to feel it all rise beneath her feet, watched this somehow still-standing building shrug off the limits of the sky and pool the stars together on its flooring.

Or maybe you’re putting too much poetic thought into simple construction.

Yolanda Waltz’s cup of water catches a fair few fake stars itself, and you see red and blue bend and twist around the curved body of glass. The click of her heels the only break in the silence as she hands one cup towards you. You accept it silently, the glass cold against your palms. A bead of water drips down the side of it, leaving a small streak in its wake. Your thumb comes up to wipe it away before it reaches the bottom of the glass, still silent as thoughts of galaxies drain from your brain, replaced instead by a singular, shining starlet who sits in front of you now.

You had grown used to being by her side. This woman in front of you, with one leg hooked gracefully over the other. A white dress pouring down one arm and collecting in a pool by her ankle. Sleek, pristine, pressed. Pressed lips that quirk up and you realize quickly that your staring has not gone unnoticed.

“Should I start charging a museum fee?” Yolanda’s smooth voice rises to your ears through the clean silence of this wide and polished room. “Looking, but never speaking, or touching.”

The flirtatious edge is also something you’ve grown used to. Yet still you find your face flushing as you look down to take a deep sip from the glass, an excuse not to speak as you gather back your straying thoughts.

One leg jitters of its own accord, bouncing up and down while the heel of your own shoe clicks nervously. Your free hand squeezes into the fabric of your skirt before smoothing it back down again. “I…”

“Too much?” Yolanda leaves a dark red print from where her lips touched the glass. “You seem more on edge today. I thought perhaps it might help you loosen up.”

You had grown used to being by her side. You had even grown used to some of the more… double edged remarks passed between the two of you. Sentiments teetering between joking and… something a bit more dangerous. You had grown as used to them as you had walking across comets painted in neon.

So why, suddenly, does it all feel like the first time once again?

Why, suddenly, have you become nervous and skittish all over again? Why does it feel like every step on this dark floor is one that might send you plunging into the abyss, why does it feel like every time Yolanda Waltz speaks with that tilted tone you find your heart fluttering like you are once again the nervous reporter sitting in her room interviewing her about a lead that might lead you to the identity of a red-clad superhero…

“Why do you do that?” The words slip from your lips.

Yolanda Waltz doesn’t flinch, but one brow does find itself pushing up, her head tilting. “Oh? What?”

“That… this… I mean… you tease me too much.” You lean back into the silk cushion of the chair, it bobs and fluffs up around you, catching you like arms.

The glass lifts again, and now there’s another red mark next to the first. Two lip prints placed so gently next to each other. “Does it make you uncomfortable? If so then I will stop.”

“N-no!” Too fast. Too loud. “No it doesn’t- um… I don’t think it makes me uncomfortable?”

Two lips prints that are placed on the table next to her seat. Her legs uncross, and Yolanda Waltz smooths down her dress. “You sound unsure. If it is alright with you then I will stop until you know whether or not it makes you uncomfortable.”

She sounds so… professional when she says that. Granted, Yolanda Waltz always sounds professional. Always calm. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her break that façade. Or at least, when she does seem to… it’s always that. Seems to. Somehow it feels very distant. There’s the woman in front of you, Yolanda Waltz, but then there’s Yolanda, and she’s… somewhere else. Somewhere much further away.

“What if it isn’t alright with me?” Your hands squeeze, one into soft fabric and the other around hard and cold glass. “What if I said I didn’t want you to stop?”

But there are flickers, little cracks between the pressed smiles and pressed clothes and… Flickers like now, when there’s a little flicker of surprise. It flashes so quickly over her face-- a shooting star of emotion. “You enjoy our banter, then?”

You swallow down another gulp of ice cold water, and try to pretend it’s something stronger. Strong enough to give you a burst of confidence. “I enjoy you.”

Flicker. “Excuse me?”

“I enjoy you-- I like you.” You place the glass to the side and force yourself to stand, listening to your own heels click against the floor as you walk towards Yolanda Waltz. “I like you, Yolanda. I like flirting with you. I like being with you. I want to get to know you.”

Flicker. Her eyes never leave yours, “Those are dangerous requests, darling.”

“No.” Your hands find the armrests of her chair, and you try to pretend that you’re doing that to be… seductive? Flirtatious? It’s always worked that way in the movies.

In reality, you’re just trying not to fall over. Your feet are too shaky to keep you upright right now. “I think you’re saying that. And if- if--” Fuck, dammit, and you were doing so well without stuttering, “If you don’t want to.. Get to know each other,” Recover, recover, recover, you were doing so well don’t lose it now, “In that way then… uh… we… can just… not…”

This is not recovering. This is a downward spiral. This was going so well. And now your arms feel stiff and your legs feel awkward and your limbs all feel a bit too long for your body and is this even a seductive pose? God it’s not is it? Oh god you have to look so stupid right now what the hell are you doing this is Yolanda Goddamn Waltz and you just tried to what? Strut up to her and confess? Who the hells ‘struts’ anyway? Fuck what the fuck are you doing why did you--

A hand finds the side of your cheek. A warm palm with long, slender fingers and a gentle thumb that moves over the side of your face. A soft laugh leaves Yolanda’s red lips, leaving a print on the side of your brain, where that laugh and those lips dance in circles. “Perhaps it is a bit cruel of me to say so but there is something rather cute about watching you lose yourself in your own mind. You’re far more expressive than you might realize, darling, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that active imagination of yours.”

Your skin must be boiling under her hand, and your brain has gone from downward spiral to stagnant static as a dull, “Uh…” falls free from your lips.

Yolanda’s hand pulls away and you start to realize that your arms have begun to ache from holding you up, but you’re no longer sure how to gracefully dismount from this position you’ve put yourself in. Lucky for you, Yolanda spares you the embarrassment and slowly stands, allowing you to pull back. She takes your hands instead, and brings one up to her lips to kiss the back of your knuckles, leaving a mark of red in their place. “You make it very tempting , darling, and I like you quite a bit too.”

“It may just be the fact that I think my mind has gone numb,” Your mouth, too, by the way you start speaking your thoughts aloud without a filter, “But… was that… I’m not sure if that was a rejection or not?”

She considers this for a moment, her lips pursed gently, then another laugh, this one lower, more throaty as Yolanda Waltz turns her head to the side. There’s a flicker again, but it’s not out of surprise. It’s… uncertainty. “I am not sure either.”

Oh.

“Can… can I ask why not?”

Yolanda lowers your hand, and this time she keeps her eyes on the red mark on the back of your palm. “All my life, I have only ever sought physical relationships. That is not to say I’ve been adverse to the idea of a more emotional one, but it has also never been a priority of mine. I’ve found people with whom we can seek a bit of respite and pleasure together, and perhaps even share a pleasant cup of coffee together after. But never anything more than that. I have been content with that, and felt no need to seek anything more with them after, save for an occasional repeat if they desired the same. I would be willing to spend such time with you…”

“But that’s not something I’m interested in.” You supply.

“No, I know this. And of course, that is perfectly alright.” Yolanda’s thumb brushes over your hand, “But a… romantic relationship is something of new territory to me. Not to mention, a purely romantic relationship, at least of the emotional kind, that is even more unknown territory.”

You nod slowly, “That’s okay. If you don’t want--”

“I did not say I did not want it.” Yolanda frowns, and it’s more than a flicker this time. It’s… a genuine look of being lost. Uncertain. “To speak frankly, I want to be with you. And the idea of such a relationship is not an unpleasant one. It is just… a new one. An unfamiliar one.”

“Oh, well that’s okay.” You try to smile, hesitantly attempting to reach up and brush a hand over her chin, coax her back to looking at you. “Is there any way I can help you… I dunno, get more familiar with it?”

She looks up easily, but it does not seem to make her any more certain. “I think it is more a matter of time and trial. If you are willing to be patient, darling, then… I would like to be with you, although I may not… know what to do at first… if that is understandable?”

“Of course.” You try to smile, to show more reassurance. “We can take it slow. And, at least for now, keep everything the same until you get more comfortable with the idea of being together? Then when you know how you feel a bit more, we’ll take whatever step we want to take, and just sorta… see where it goes from there?”

You watch as Yolanda Waltz-- a woman you’ve never seen break, a woman you’ve seen remain dead calm in the midst of some of the most stressful storms of Nickelport-- relaxes. “Yes. That sounds agreeable.”

You also watch as Yolanda Waltz, for once, hesitates, then asks, just as hesitantly, “Is it alright if I kiss you then?”

You can’t help your own laugh from bubbling out of your throat, “Yes.” You say, “Always.”

[heartau]

Domaine de la Romanée | J.JH [M]

Genre: rich kid!au - angst, smut, slow burn-ish, pining, fluff Word count: 41.2k (i am so sorry.) Comments: ok.... i got rly engrossed in the plot and world building so i went super buckwild on this. i apologize for that. i worked on this for a whole month + 2 weeks so .... enjoy! i’d love love looove hearing some feedback! also UNEDITED.  Warnings: very, very, very explicit sexual content - rough sex, choking, throat-fucking, degradation, dirty talk, oral sex, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, overstimulation, unprotected, breeding kink | strong language, various sexual scenes, infidelity(? kinda). 

Even the most pure become tainted when their eyes meet his. This was doomed from the start; you knew it was dangerous, you knew it was bad - but all those thoughts left your mind the second he made you feel good. 

[ ⚠ ] This piece involves a very problematic scenario (ie. infidelity). Please note that I do not promote nor advocate it. This is a work of pure fiction, involving a plot that is compelling to read and write about. Please read the trigger warnings listed and assess if you are comfortable to proceed - I do not wish to harm or trigger anybody. Adding on, while this work of fiction features real people, I would like to remind you that how I portray them does not, in any way, correlate to how they truly act in real life - I am just using them as characters for a plot. I do not wish to defame or insult anybody, I am just here to practice my passion in writing and entertain you.

Domaine de la Romanée - Field of Romance

You eyed the roses placed within the glass vase situated in the center of the table and wondered to yourself when this monotonous gala will reach its conclusion. The Versace gown that hugs your body has already started to itch at your skin and the corset that your stylists forced you into before leaving for the jubilee eludes you from making numerous rounds to the dessert table, but your mother’s joyful grin and welcoming arms lead you to believe that the night is far from reaching its end. Unable to slouch over in your seat, all you are able to do is sit stiff against the backrest of your plush velvet chair, fingers pinched at the stem of your glass of wine, swirling the liquid of domaine de la romanée-cont.

This gala was all your mother’s proposal for her new Spring collection releasing just a few days prior, ensembles of pastel and bold colours rolling out onto the runway and fostering a flock of people to rush into your boutiques littered across the globe. Your great-great-grandmother was the founder of Decoré, established in the year 1882, and the brand overtook the fashion industry by storm, raking millions and millions of dollars into your family name. She, who passed the company down to her daughter, who passed it onto her own daughter, who passed it onto your mother, were all eager with the idea of leading their own business. Forthwith, in a few years time, it’ll be your own turn in leading this empire - and you couldn’t be more than fervent in finally having the brand in your own two hands.

Of course, your mother thinks the same, as to why this celebration doubles as a matchmaking service for you, her only child. 

“(Y/N), dear!” she calls your name, hushed by the constant classical music reverberating from the string ensemble. You turn to meet her direction, eyes automatically moving to the man she was pulling along with her, and for the nth time that night, wished that you weren’t stuck in such a tight corset so you could guzzle up every wine bottle in sight in order to avoid the imminent doom. “There is someone I’d like you to meet!” 

Yukhei “Lucas” Xuxi Wong the IV, whom most people know as Wong Yukhei, whom most people refer to as only Lucas. The amount of names that the man holds equates nowhere near the amount of distaste you hold for him; if it weren’t for the grossly iniquitous personality that you have come to know and hear by virtue of the internet, you would have already been charmed by his sharp, dusky eyes and spellbinding smile. Your poor mother, far too oblivious, beams in what you could only describe as acceptance.

“This is Yukhei Wong the IV,” your mother grins as Lucas pulls a chair out for her to sit on. He smooths down his tan Hermés suit before sitting down in the plush seat on your other side, already attempting to send provocative eyes your way. “He is the next in line for the chief executive position of the Wong Institute of Medicine, you know, the beautiful university in New York? Yukhei, this is my daughter, (Y/N)!” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Yukhei.” you say, feigning a kind smile as you outstretch your hand towards the tall, handsome man. 

“Please, call me Lucas,” he coquettes, taking your hand and leaning down to press a kiss on your knuckles. For a split second, you are unsure if the cause of the slight taste of domaine de la romanée-cont travelling back up your esophagus was induced by this wanton or if it’s due to your corset digging into your stomach. “It’s very nice to meet you as well, dear. You are just as beautiful as you are in the photo shoots I’ve seen. Even more so, really.”

You throw him a simper as you gently pull your hand away from him, rejection clear on your expression but unbeknownst to him. You’ve read up on countless articles about this man, how doomed the reputation of Wong Institute was going to be once he gets ahold of the company; limitless cheating scandals, a myriad of DUIs, and multitudes of other alleged crimes, you’re almost confused, if not horrified, at how on earth your mother would think he’d be a perfect candidate for you - but the glimmering chandelier that must have cost millions above you is the token answer to that.

“Lucas was telling me about how the last of his father’s inquiries are wrapping up before KIM is being passed onto him. Isn’t that right, Lucas?” your mother urges the man, who looks at you with a type of hunger in his eyes that you’d rather not question him about. “You two youngsters have a chat, I have to go welcome my guests!”

“Yes, of course!” Lucas tears his eyes off your body for the first time since meeting him only seconds ago, sending a kilowatt smile at your mother, who pivots on her heel before walking back towards the entrance hallway. “My father is such an inspirational man, he’s built an empire of medical resources. So many of the world’s renowned doctors graduated from our institute - but, to be truthful, I’m terrified of taking that empire into my own hands without someone I can call my wife by my side to cheer me on.” 

You try all you can to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Is that so?” leaves your mouth in bitter fashion.

Ever since you had become of age five years ago, your mother has been desperately trying to match you with a whole slew of men to wed from her business networks, planning blind dates for you and offering you their numbers. From medicine, to theatrics, you have encountered every type of man possible in just the last few years and yet, none of them come quite close to your savour. Either they were far too goal-oriented for you to envision a loving future, far too dull for you to envision a happy future, or far too… abhorrent for you to envision a healthy future. Perhaps your mother knew of Lucas’ true colours but only considered the business venture and the large percentage of the stock he would inherit from the Wong Institute - but other than that, you are stumped as to why she would even contemplate a marriage between the two of you, fields of expertise far too wide and vast from each other.

“Yes, it is,” Lucas says, eyes casting down as if he were reenacting a monologue of a play. “But it’s hard, you know? I haven’t found the perfect woman to marry yet; they’re either far too childish, or are plain gold-diggers, which, frankly, isn’t really my taste.”

“Hm.” you answer bluntly, taking another sip of your savoury wine. 

As he continues to drone on and on about his ideals and morals, none of which you are inclined to believe at all, you find yourself falling short from the wine in your glass, having already drunk all of the liquid. 

“Would you like me to get you some more, (Y/N)?” Lucas asks, cocking his head to the side, a gummy smile stretching on his face. 

You shake your head. “It’s alright, I’ll get it myself. I’m in need of a refresher, anyways,” you stand, legs slightly numb from where your corset pinched your waist. “It was very nice talking to you, Lucas.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, standing up as well. “Can I see you again sometime?”

You scrunch your nose, and for the first time since meeting him, he flashes a dejected look in his eye. “You’ll have to book an appointment with my manager.” 

And with that, you pivot on your heel and head towards the refreshments, leaving a stunned Lucas in your wake, praising yourself for finishing your wine rather than dumping the remnants of it over his Hermés suit. You let out a sigh as you find solace in the classical music, reading the labels of each wine bottle displayed in rows on the table. Finding the bottle for domaine de la romanée-conti, you request one of the caterers to fill your glass, and within seconds, you find yourself standing in the corner of the venue, far from where you originally sat. You studied the decorations adorned throughout the hall, very much in theme with your mother’s Spring collection - fabrics of pastel silk and decorative flowers suspending from the ceiling above, causing chandeliers to look like floweret bulbs and to emit a slight, coral glow. 

“Quite peculiar that the great (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is standing in the corner and not conversing with the guests of her mother’s own gala,” a merry voice causes you to look up from your swirling wine, breaking out into your first smile of the night at the sight of your best friend. 

Joohyun “Irene” Kim, is the granddaughter of the founder of Bae Institute of Fashion, a very renowned university of design established in the hills of Beverly and Hollywood. You had met her the first year you had gone to school, automatically sticking to each other like magnets. Although she may be a quiet woman herself, she was relatively much more confident than you were as a growing child; she had helped you bloom from your shell. You are an only child, but ever since meeting Irene, you only feel as though you’ve grown with a sister.

“Irene,” you smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Of course I came!” she giggles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How could I miss the unravelling of Decoré’s Spring Collection, especially so, since some graduates of the institute collaborated on the subject. I actually saw you not too long ago, conversing with Wong Yukhei,” she leans against the wall beside you. “Anything juicy?”

“Not so,” you let out a sigh. “It’s just mother trying to get me to meet another man for marriage. Although, I’m not sure why she would think that man is a good choice.” 

“Evidently so, last I heard, he splurged half of his institute’s money on a night spent in a hotel in Italy with dozens of women on his arms,” Irene sighs, shaking her head. “Why does your mother insist on you marrying? You’re still a young woman, you have a life to live first - and besides, it’s not like any of the guys she’s found for you are all that interesting either.”

You let out a snicker, shaking your head. “You have no right in lecturing me, Irene, aren’t you engaged?” you quirked an eyebrow at your best friend while she rolls her eyes at you. “Frankly, I’ve never seen you so happy than the night Seokjin proposed. It was quite a sight, really.”

“Oh shut up,” she pouts, lightly hitting you on your shoulder. “Once you find the man you’ve been waiting for, you’ll know the feeling exactly.” 

The rest of the night is spent with you glued to her arm, following her around the venue as she greets the people that she knows. Irene has always been just a little more social than you have ever been, and now with an engagement ring on her finger, it only brings more topics of discussion with her. You had the chance to meet her fiancé, Kim Seokjin, as well, proving himself a good and commendable man; he held admiring eyes for only her and had an air of genuinity - you felt the inkling of envy building in your stomach, not because you wished for Seokjin to love you, but because your best friend had found a good man to settle down with, something that doesn’t seem at all possible for you. 

As the night continues on, you find yourself seated at their table, watching as individuals adorned in brand names from Vuitton to Marchesa walk past you with high chins and flutes of liquor. The string ensemble has shifted their focus from classical and moved onto jazz, and you’re almost sure they’ve been playing the same measure for the past twelve minutes. Sighing as the couple beside you converse as if they’re in their own world, you continue to look around the room, finding your mother rearranging a pot of decorative flowers to her liking right next to a panoramic window. Your eyes shift to the other side of the window, and you instinctively sit forward in your chair.

Clad in a dark grey suit by Hemsworth and a black tie tucked behind his blazer, a handsome man of tall stature does the same thing as you, watching individuals walk past and interact amongst themselves, swirling cheval blanc in his wine glass. His hair, an ash blonde, a dye job that works wonders for his creamy skin tone, is slicked back messily, a few strands of hair slipping through the layer of gel and hanging in front of his forehead. His face, square in shape, held a juxtaposition of features, sharp eyes, but a soft nose; sharp lips, but a sleek jawline and fleshy cheeks. He looked stunning, far more stunning than the men you’ve met throughout the last five years; he looked as if he walked out of an impressionist painting. 

Just before you were about to tear your eyes off of the man, his head turns to your direction, automatically meeting your eyes. For a split second, his gaze tears, only to return boring into yours again, which causes you to gasp slightly. His face remains expressionless as he continues your eye contact, before he surely looks away from you one last time. Your hand bunches up the soft blue silk of your Versace gown before spinning towards Irene. 

“Irene.” you grab her hand, diverting her attention away from her fiancé. 

“Yes? What is it?” she turns to you. You let out a puff of air before continuing your sentence.

You turn your head again to see if the man is still there, to which he was, eyes back to focusing on the rest of the crowd lining the halls. “That man over there, in the dark grey, next to the window,” you whisper to her. “Who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”

Her eyes follow your line of sight with an expression of joy since at last, you’ve finally found a man you showed at least an inkling of interest in, but once her eyes land on the man in question, her expression falls.

“No.” her voice turns grave, much to your panic. “(Y/N), don’t you dare even think about it.”

You widen your eyes in confusion, searching her face to find clues if she were just joking - but her expression remains serious. “Why?” you ask her. “Who is he?”

“That’s Jay Jung,” she tells you, grasping your hands. “Better known as Jung Jaehyun. He’s next in line for the position of CEO for Jung & Associates, you know, that really famous law firm? They’re a family full of lawyers - they come from old money, (Y/N), they’re extremely powerful. They’re not here to play dress-up like the rest of us.” 

You furrow your brows. You’ve heard about Jung & Associates before in fleeting conversations. Always on the topic of them winning innumberal cases and trials, or articles that litter your ears during outings of his father merging with and overpowering other law firms. You recall hearing your mother talking about Jung & Associates on the phone while you sat in the lounging area scrolling through your Twitter feed, just a few weeks ago.

“What? We come from old money as well, Irene.” you urge her on, not quite understanding her rejectful view of the man. The two of you also come from old money, Decoré and the BAE Institute have been established for generations and still continue to stick around by blood lineage, so you were unsure why she seemed so rattled by the man and his family name.

“Yes, but we’re different,” Irene pauses. “Our companies collaborate with each other, because we can, and because our environments and industries are light-hearted enough. Jung & Associates does not collaborate - they purchase the smaller companies, no matter what field of expertise the company aims for, and whether they like it or not.” She glances back towards Jaehyun, who had begun to walk back into the lounging area, walking past the plush velvet chairs. “I know that Jung Jaehyun holds the ego of five men, he thinks of himself as if he is on a pedestal.” 

You watch as the man gazes at the decorations strewn across the gallery, a flat expression gracing his angelic features. It’s quite disheartening that a man so attractive as he could possess such alleged revolting qualities - but you aren’t shocked; throughout the years of being taught by your mother on how to pull the ropes of a company as a woman, it isn’t like you’re unaccustomed to men forging their own skills in order to get to the top. You’ve learned that the hard way.

“Why does he look like that? He looks miserable.” you scoff, eyeing him as he continues to walk past an array of your mother’s guests, avoiding their widened eyes and hushed whispers. He looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else but to be present in this gala, which is a feeling you associate with, but you would never say that out loud. 

“I’m not sure, he usually has the semblance of a smile on - but that’s mostly when he’s with his brothers,” she says, watching him along with you. “It’s peculiar that he’s here by himself.” 

The faintest feeling of apprehension bubbles up in your stomach once more, but you shake it off. This man is still young, the law firm hasn’t been passed down to him yet - he’s probably just here for his own amusement and pleasure, and was wholly disappointed by the lack of fun and the droning jazz music. Whatever the case, you still find yourself unable to look away from him, taking in his beauty, finding yourself wish, just for a split second, that the rumours about him are nowhere near true. He seats himself at a table near the center of the ballroom, and his eyes flashes to yours once again, his gaze lingering on your eyes. This time, you’re the first to look away.

-----

The silk chiffon robe that adorns your body designed specifically for you by Montenero is a price that even your shoes tucked away in their own walk-in closet cannot reach. The hush humdrum of french chatter originating from people passing underneath your hotel balcony is calming to you, having growing used to the booming noises that come with residing deep within a city. October is your favourite time of year to visit Bordeaux, France, as the pesky throngs of tourists finally dwindle away and due to the sun deciding to emit heat much gentler than any other season. Even the staff of Hôtel Le Palais Gallien bear a jolly expression this time of year.

It is occasions like this when you would find yourself sojourned in this city for a breather from your hectic work life, photoshoots and fashion shows demanding your occupancy more than seventy hours per week, the cool evening air kissing your cheek bones as you breath out a blissful sigh. Just on the 7 rue Ferrere inside an old warehouse building built of cobblestones and brick, was an exhibition held by your favourite photographer, John Suh - rather than flashy ornaments strewn over sets and models posing themselves in an avant-garde manner, he always pursued natural lighting, habitual individual quirks; simplistic, comfortable, authentic. You had always wished to collaborate with him on a photoshoot, but his schedule would always turn up booked; you would have to wait years to be able to book an appointment with him.

You smooth down the slightly scrunched fabric of your lilac Rachel Parcell summer dress, leather satchel by Kate Spade in tow as you step out of the sleek black car; you had told your chauffeur to meet you at the same spot in about two hours and a half, wanting to experience the exhibition in full on your own. Journalists and cameramen have already bombarded the entrance, yelling multiple queries for you to answer, ranging from questioning your enthusiasm on the upcoming exhibition or if your mother has any plans releasing a new collection before the year ends. You are only thankful for the Tom Ford sunglasses that you pull down to perch on your nose, blocking the frantic flashing lights of cameras, making your way into the cobblestone building with the help of the doorman.

When the wooden doors close and the yells of journalist cease behind the doorways, your ears are calmed with the sound of classical music, playing faintly along the gallery. It echoes against gravel walls, the effect soothing to you, encompassed in art. The photographs, stuck against large, plain, white boards, lit with dim lighting, is your first priority, slipping your sunglasses off and perching them back on your head. You study each one, carefully, analyzing each snapshot eagerly. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear a familiar voice, and you quickly spin around, meeting the cordial eyes of your best friend’s fiancé. Seokjin strolls towards you with a casual gait in his step. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hello, Seokjin,” you smile and nod your head towards him. You take note of the wine glass pinched between his fingers, telling yourself to make rounds to the beverages soon. “I never took you as the person to enjoy fine arts.” you joke, watching him chuckle in response.

“I am the grandson of the guy who founded Kim Productions,” he tells you in a light tone. Seokjin’s grandfather is the chief executive of Kim Pictures, a prominent production company known by their several high-grossing films and featurettes; he doesn’t show it on his face nor in his attitude though - he is down-to-earth, which is admirable; men in this environment seem to forget their manners and morals. “However, I’m really just here to support one of my best friends.”

“You’re friends with John Suh?” you question him.

He nods, pressing his lips together which causes his cheeks to puff out slightly. “Yep!” he answers. “We went to the same university together, took the same courses and whatnot. One of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He actually goes by Johnny - he uses John to sound more professional.” 

You nod your head in understanding, attempting to keep your excitement under wraps. You couldn’t bare risking your clean repute to be tainted by pestering Kim Seokjin for a collaboration with your favourite photographer. A smile finds their way on your lips before you open your mouth again. “I’m a very big fan,” you tell him. “His pictures are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Seokjin asks you, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a momentary sip. “I never took you as the type to be engrossed in photography.” 

“I am a model.” you laugh, using the same tone he had used with you prior.

“You got me there,” he jokes. “Johnny’s actually doing an interview for Aesthetica right now, but perhaps once he’s finished I can take you to meet him!” 

“Are you willing to?” you ask him, unsure if he feels as if he’s forced to do so, or if he’s genuinely happy to let you meet his good friend. He nods, an authentic smile gracing his features, and you push back the will to grin in a cheerful manner of excitement, a small, thankful smile finding its way onto your face.

It takes all for you to keep that calm, serene beam on your face though, when you finally come face to face with one of your heroes. He stands tall, taller than you would have ever imagined a person to be, with long brown locks that sway in front of his face and square shoulders that slightly protrude forward due to endless nights of editing his own photos. A knit black sweater by Valentino curtains his body, fit beige trousers covering his endless legs and ending with polished black shoes that you can see your reflection in. 

“Ah,” he says, clasping his hands together in excitement. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! I’ve seen you in many advertisements and fashion magazines - my husband is a very big fan!” 

You are in heaven at the sound of your idol recognizing you, finally letting your excited grin show on your face as you consent to his kiss upon your knuckles. You had heard of John Suh being cheerful and pleasant through many accounts, you are aware of his philanthropic duties, constantly bringing awareness to the troubles around the world. Often does he donate the money that he’s cashed in from his projects to multiple charities - these moments seem to be the chit-chat that takes place around garden parties and other functions frequently. His husband, Chittaphon, who is known solely as Ten, is a prominent model of whom he had met during a shoot with Vogue. You remember their love story being placed on television, articles littered all over your social media; a charming model known for his playboy repute has fallen for a peaceful, relaxing photographer - their love story is something you could only dream about and desire as your own.

“I’m so excited to meet you,” you tell him, face red with enthusiasm. “I'm a very, very big fan of your works - I’ve always wished for us to collaborate.” 

He lets out a deep laugh, hand resting on his stomach. “Actually, I’ve always tried to book an appointment with you, but your manager would only tell me of dates years into the future.” 

Your jaw drops. “No way,” you let out a laugh. “I’ve been doing the same thing for you!”

The three of you, including Seokjin, converse like old college friends, quickly becoming close as you exchange laughs and slight quips; you and Johnny excitedly make plans for a shoot, promising to clear out the least important schedules in your itinerary. Wholly excited, you’ve got to owe everything to Seokjin, who was able to make this possible for you. As the event nears its end, people beginning to clear out of the warehouse, you find a new friend in Johnny, thankful for the opportunity to make acquaintance with him.

You leave briefly in the midst of the two men’s conversation about their college days to make rounds to the beverages, letting the server pour domaine de la romanée-conti into your wine glass, letting the heavenly liquid attack your taste buds and closing your eyes in delight. The knowledge of your mother not being present with you, having stayed behind in Seoul to run the reigns of the company building thusly not breathing down your neck to keep your eyes open for a potential future husband, is something equivalent to freedom. You listen to classical music playing softly along the gallery for a few seconds, Franz Schubert absorbing into your eardrums, before opening your eyes to find your way back to Johnny and Seokjin. 

You only find yourself frozen when your eyes open to familiar ones staring back at you. 

His hair is still an ash blond, styled much like the first time you saw him, a few loose strands escaping the net of hair gel and kissing the front of his forehead. His lips, which were pulled into a slight scowl when you had first seen them, had the slightest sight of a smirk, the corner of his lip raised faintly. He’s dressed in a fit, pressed, light grey suit by Ted Baker, Daniel Wellington watch peeking from his exposed wrist when he pulls his hand to his lips to sip from his veuve clicquot champagne. Yet, even with the details of his dress and face, you find your eyes stuck on one feature; his eyes. Never tearing from yours, his brown eyes hold an emotion that you cannot decipher. 

It takes you a nanosecond to shake yourself out of your trance, averting your eyes away from his gaze as you pivot on your heel, making your way back through the gallery towards Seokjin and Johnny. You are unsure as to why Jaehyun is here, much like the first time you had seen him at your mother’s galal; you recall Irene talking about his personality and morals, he does not seem like the type to enjoy fine arts. A heat crawls up your neck upon realizing how you must have looked like a deer in headlights upon meeting his eyes, cursing at yourself for being so brash with your staring, feeling the heat cloud your cheeks when you realize he probably must have recognized you from the first time you had seen him - there is no way he will not recognize you now. 

“There you are,” Johnny says, raising his glass when you return. “I was starting to think you had gotten lost. I was going to ask one of my guards to search for a short woman in lilac!”

You shake your head fervently, bubbling up a laugh that didn’t sound so nervous much to your favour. “No, no,” you smile, letting out a sigh in attempt to let go of what had just happened. “I just got distracted.”

You will yourself to catch up on the conversation that you had missed while you were stuck staring into the umber eyes of Jung Jaehyun, but it is all that you could think about, finding yourself falling quiet and finding interest in the way the wine in your glass swirls. The two men did not really notice as they were in deep conversation, and you did not mind. Hushed under your thoughts, their voices become familiar enough for you to decipher - until a new voice began to cut through a conversation. 

“Brother,” a deep, booming baritone voice sounds, and you grip the stem of your wine glass with tension. You glance upwards, Jaehyun right in front of you now, hand on Johnny’s shoulder, whose entire body has gone stiff. His eyes are cast at Johnny, deftly avoiding yours. Brother?, you wonder. They are related? “Father called, he’s had a flight booked for the both of us back to Seoul tonight. We should get going now.”

“Jaehyun, it seems as if you do not understand that this is my exhibition,” Johnny turns to the slightly shorter man. He seems to visibly relax but his fist that hangs loose on his side is still clenched. “It will be rude of me to leave the guests that came to support me so early. You go on that flight. I can handle my own payments, I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Jaehyun huffed, his jaw clenching. From a distance, he was beautiful, but up close, he looks unreal; his lips much plumper and skin similar to porcelain, spotless. You look towards Seokjin, unsure of how to act, but even the confident, humorous man finds solace in staring into his wine glass. “These are father’s orders,” Jaehyun tells him, voice authoritative. “He wants us home by tonight.”

“And we will be,” Johnny says through a grit smile. “I’ll just be late. Please, Jaehyun; tonight is my night. Don’t let your family business ruin this for me as well.”

You are confused as you listen to them, still reeling from the information that you had uncovered that Johnny and Jaehyun are related to each other. Your family business, you repeat in your head. He words his sentence as if he was not a part of the family, and judging by his body language, it seems as if that is what he wishes. Your thoughts are interrupted when Jaehyun lets out a loud sigh, eyes dark as he glares at Johnny. He backs away without a word, before he pivots on his heel, and in a fleeting moment his eyes lock with yours; you suck in a breath as the nanosecond passes you by. His lips, this time, do not form into a smirk, but are pressed into a thin line. Withdrawing back into the crowd, he is the first to tear his eyes away. 

“Sorry about him,” Johnny breathes after a few moments of silence, perching the glass of wine atop a table beside him. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, grimacing. “My brother is not usually like that. It’s just... he’s stressed about the law firm.”

You nod, listening intently, hoping for Johnny to continue into a discussion about his relation to Jaehyun, wanting to know more about the Jung family, desiring answers to the questions that you have conjured in your brain, but he does not mention it again after that. As the night comes to a close, you have already eased up from the short moment you shared with the enigmatic man; as the night comes to a close, you find yourself exchanging numbers with Johnny, proving him to be a friend you will keep for a long time; as the night comes to a close, the dark, impenetrable eyes that lingers on your form is something you stay oblivious to.

-----

The heat of the Philippine sun beating into your skin is nothing short of pleasant, the scent of salt water lacing its way into your nostrils. The grains of sand that dig into your skin bears no competition to the softness of your carpeted bedroom floors back home You are in paradise; actually, you are in Cebu, Philippines, tanning underneath the blazing sun in Plantation Bay, which is most possibly the closest to paradise you will ever meet. It is after you and Irene had finished volunteering at a children’s center situated in the middle of Cebu City, finding solace in making friends with the children and helping them with whatever you could. Children have always been a soft spot for you, you absolutely adored them and were a natural with handling them, so you jumped at the chance to experience this when Irene father had brought it up in conversation with the both of you. 

“There is a live band playing tonight at the Palermo restaurant,” says Irene, voice deafened by the loud crashing of the ocean waves in front of you as well as the clamorous yelling of children and other people staying in the resort around the pool area. “We should check it out. It’s been a while since I’ve heard music other than jazz and classical being played live.” 

You nod, agreeing to her plans, before the two of you rest in peaceful silence once more, taking in the heat of the sun. You find yourself hours later, in the hotel room that the two of you shared, placing a Salina crop top by Reformation atop your Burberry printed bikini top, and high waisted denim shorts you had acquired from a fast fashion brand while scavenging through one of the malls. Placing some lip gloss and mascara on before ensuring that Irene was ready, the both of you eagerly leave to head to the ground floor, where the restaurant is situated. 

As soon as you step foot into the restaurant, the air is filled with nothing but of music and the smell of savoury foods. You had acquired a taste for many of the dishes, finding it fitting to your tastes, so you were excited to have a full meal and enjoy some music that night. A band composed of four people stand atop a panel, jamming out to local music, people singing along joyfully, which makes you grin in delight. You do not know how to speak in Bisaya, knowing only a few short phrases here and there, but the tune is familiar to you, and so you hum along. 

You and Irene sit in one of the tables on the elevated level of the restaurant, just a few more feet away from the band, enjoying a space that isn’t so crowded. 

“Seokjin tells me that he took you to meet Johnny Suh at his photography exhibition in Bordeaux,” she mentions to you after the waitress had left with your orders. “Tell me, how did it feel meeting your hero?”

“It was amazing,” you giggled, recalling the feeling of meeting someone you had looked up to that happened just a mere few weeks ago. “We actually became good friends - we have our own group chat and everything. Tell Seokjin I said thank you, he’s such a kind man.”

Irene laughs, waving you off. “Anything else interesting that happened on that trip?” she asks. “Hooked up with any French boys? I heard that the hotel you stayed in proves to be a beautiful place to have sex.”

You roll your eyes at her as you take a sip of your water. “No, Irene, I did not bone anyone,” you tell her as she snickers. You suddenly recollect memories of meeting Jaehyun’s eyes; the mere thought sends jolts to run through your nerves. “However, Jaehyun was there.”

“Really?” Irene asks, wonder on her face, before she let out a gasp, bringing her hands to her cheeks as she grimaces. “Goodness, my apologies, I forgot to mention that Johnny and Jaehyun are half-brothers, how could I forget!” she seems to beat herself up momentarily but then calms. “Did anything happen with him?”

You gulp down the urge to tell her about his intense staring. “Not anything special,” you lie. “He and Johnny got into a heated discussion about going back to Seoul, something about their father needing them back at that very moment. However, Jaehyun left before it could get worse.“ Irene seems to relax in her seat as you play with one of the dining utensils placed in front of you. After a few moments of silence, you open your mouth. “Irene, tell me about the Jung family. I’m curious.”

Irene seems to be taken aback from your question but hums, recalling some facts that she may know of. “From what I know, Johnny is the child of Mr. Jung’s first wife, who had left him for one of their butlers. Jaehyun, and their youngest, Jaemin, are the sons of his second, and current, wife,” she pauses. “Apparently, Mr. Jung is still furious about his first wife leaving him, which is why he promised Jaehyun, his second son, the company, instead of Johnny.”

“Oh.” you whisper, heartstrings tugging at the sad story - spite causes people to make the most hurtful actions.

“Seokjin met Johnny in university, they’re very, very good friends,” Irene continues. “From what he’s told me, Johnny and Jaehyun have always had a strained relationship - he’s unsure why, really. I guess you can tell from the way Johnny still continues to bear his mother’s last name. Anyways, Seokjin told me that it was never Johnny’s dream to run a law firm, and when Mr. Jung appointed Jaehyun as the next chief executive officer, the hateful tension between them raised a little bit more.”

“Why?” you find yourself engrossed in the story, waiting for her to tell you more about the Jung family, but she shakes her head. 

Irene sighs. “I’m afraid this is where my knowledge reaches its end,” she says, and you will yourself not to pout, relishing in the newfound information. “Why do you want to know about the Jung family so much, though? Don’t tell me you’ve taken an interest in Jaehyun, (Y/N); he’s devious, please remember that.”

You shake your head fervently, heat rising up your neck. “No! No, of course not,” you tell her, waving your arms in front of your face. “I was just curious as to why he was so snippy. It was quite rude, really, to see him talking down on his brother like that at his own exhibition.”

She hums in response, not quite believing your tale, but your orders arrive before she could say anything else. The two of you enjoy your meal and converse, talking up a storm like the two of you usually do whenever together. When you are halfway into your meal, the calamares fritos proving heavenly to your stomach, Irene stands from her chair with her purse, excusing herself to the bathroom. You nod, letting her go as you continue to eat your meal alone, instead, facing the screen of your phone. Woefully finishing your meal before Irene can return, you take this time to relish in the atmosphere. The music, now traded for a softer sound with velvety guitars and smooth bass, calms the environment, people around you had went from a jovial bellowing to conversing calmly in their circle groups. To your right is a panoramic window that is painted over with watercolour. You study each stroke as you rest your chin on top of your hand. 

“Excuse me, miss,” the waitress’ hushed voice catches your attention, and you turn towards her. “Domaine de la romanée-conti, from the gentleman at the bar.”

You nod your head at her in thanks, curiously accepting the glass of wine. She sets it down on the table in front of you, and you are stumped. Domaine de la romanée-conti is your favourite, and although it was commonplace in many wine enthusiasts’ palates and collections, it was very expensive to purchase. You look around the restaurant, hoping to catch sight of whomever had, not only splurged their money on you, but had correctly guessed your favoured vin dus pays, eyes dashing around each individual until you land on a gaze that causes your breath to hitch.

His smirk is more distinctive now, even under the dim lights of the restaurant. His ash blond hair was not slicked back this time, instead swept aside on his forehead in messy layers. He is dashing even in casual attire, Commes des Garçons fit on his upper body, short sleeves revealing the veins that run through his muscular arms and tight black jeans that capture every curve of his thighs. The look was appalling to you, having grown used to seeing him clad in nothing but expensive suits - but even when you bite back the gasp from seeing him in the area, your eyes are still locked on his. 

He grabs the glass that he had situated in front of him, filled with veuve clicquot, before standing up from his chair and approaching you. Your eyes never leave his; you still cannot pinpoint the emotions stirring inside them, even when he takes his seat in front of you. 

“It’s funny that we see each other so often, but we still have yet to introduce ourselves to each other,” he starts, the voice you had heard almost booming at Johnny’s exhibition a few weeks ago is at a much gentler tone now. He reaches his hand over the table, expecting you to grab it. “My name is Jung Jaehyun, of Jung & Associates.”

You stare at his hand for a few seconds, not knowing whether you should accept it or not. You interrogate yourself in your thoughts, recalling Irene several warnings; but his gaze is far too intense for you to reject it - and even then, you do not wish for sour feelings between the both of you; even if Jaehyun’s moral compass was wrong, you know Decoré would be ruined the day you decide to act antagonistic towards him. You reach your hand over the table as well, taking his and shaking it lightly, memorizing the smoothness of his hands.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” your voice is kind, sending him a smile. You remember the time you had given Wong Lucas the same tone and face when he thought he could have a chance with you; it’s almost deja vu when you send it towards Jaehyun - almost. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

“Same to you,” he begins, a charming smile on his face. He has dimples, and you gulp as your breathing begins to falter. “I know that we met at my older brother, Johnny’s, exhibition, and I just wanted to clear up any misunderstandings you might have from my character that night. I’m sure we can try again, right? A friend of Johnny’s is a friend of mines.”

You press your lips into a thin line; when he’s dressed in casual attire, he takes the appearance of a casual, everyday boy, someone you might have met in college, someone in a different social class - someone authentic and normal, yet he still has the same intensity that he holds in suits worth millions by Hemsworth, even in comfortable clothing. “Of course we can,” you tell him, to which he relaxes, a wider grin displaying on his face and urging the dimple on his cheeks to form deeper. “Thank you for the domaine de la romanée-cont, by the way, it’s my favourite.”

“Just a lucky guess,” Jaehyun smiles at you. “I remember that was the drink you held both times we came across each other.” 

You ignore the feeling of your heart slightly skipping a beat, gulping down a sip of the wine down your throat; Irene’s voice is booming within your head now. “You have a very good memory, Jaehyun.” you say, taking a sip of the sauvignon, the familiar taste flooding your tastebuds. 

“Just the important things,” he says, chuckling to himself as he takes a sip of his champagne. “So, what brings you to the island of Cebu?”

He talks to you so casually, but his eyes drip with intention, staring into your own eyes and unending; it was as if he was mocking you - mocking the lack of power you had compared to him. “My friend, Irene, and I volunteered at an orphanage in Cebu City,” you tell him, setting the glass of wine down in front of you. “What about you, Jaehyun? Are you following me?”

Your eyes widen when you hear the words fall past your own lips, bringing a hand to your mouth in shock as you yell blasphemous words inside your head. You watch his face, waiting for his reaction to your rudeness, but he just lets out a lighthearted laugh, eyes forming into crescents as he bellows out whimsical notes. “I’m actually here for a business venture,” he tells you after his laughter calms down. “But perhaps I should be the one asking that question, hm, (Y/N)?” 

His voice is teasing, a smirk playing on his lips; you swallow your words instead trading them for nervous giggles. “Maybe we just have the same mind, and similar thoughts.” you tell him, adding a small smile at the end of your sentence, looking directly into his eyes. He raises his eyebrows for a nanosecond, as if an expression of surprise took over his face, before he lets out a deep chuckle.

“I hope so,” he says with a simper, voice slightly deafened from the sounds of guitars and basses reverberating off the walls of Palermo. Just as you open your mouth reply, his phone emits a loud ringtone from his pocket, causing him to tear his eyes off of you. He digs for his phone from his jeans pocket, glancing at his screen and seeing his face fall for a split second before he stands up. “I’m afraid our conversation might have to end early. It was nice seeing you here, (Y/N). I hope we can meet again soon.”

You ignore the slight disappointment emerging from the bottom of your throat, taking in a deep breath. “The same to you, Jung Jaehyun,” your voice is hushed. He nods once, smile bright but brown eyes concentrated, a juxtapositioned expression. His action is delayed, eyes lingering on your for one more second, before he pivots on his heel and marches towards the doors of the restaurant. After watching his retreating figure through the glass doors walk around the corner, you let out a sigh of relief, looking down at the glass of wine he had purchased for you, the liquid now sitting near the bottom. You question yourself on the emotions you felt while conversing with him, chalking it up as a side-effect of constant travelling and having no sleep. 

“Hey, sorry, I’m back, Seokjin called,” your best friend finally reappears, taking her seat in the seats Jaehyun had been in just a few mere seconds ago. Before she turns to hang the sling of her purse on the backrest of the chair, she notices your half-drunk wine glass and eyes you with sharpened eyes. “Started drinking without me, hm?” she quips.

You simply just let out a laugh, fingers twirling the stem of the wine glass as you avoid Irene’s gaze, terrified of her knowing, because you cannot form words. Not when the only image that lingers in your mind is the enigma of Jung Jaehyun’s breathtaking, umber eyes burning into yours.

-----

If you had to pinpoint out the few days you dreadfully loath in a year, you would pick the days Fashion Week is active. 

It is not that you dislike Milan; it is an alluring, beautiful, celebrated city, with copious choices of museums such as the Sforzesco Castle, architecture and cobblestone roads rather gothic yet stunningly vibrant and electrifying, and how could you possibly forget the beautiful view of the Navigli and Darsena districts when the lanterns are lit the moment the stars come out, the sight alone bringing back memories of European romance movies and dialogue to begin playing in your mind. It is a beautiful, wonderful city - but just the name being simply uttered, along with New York, Paris, and London, brings flashbacks that you would rather avert.

The warmth of the sunlight spilling through the crème curtains would usually leave you energized and ready for the oncoming day, yet, somehow, it only puts a kink in your attitude as you groan dismally, longing for just a few more hours of sleep. Perhaps it was your alarm tone whose snooze button you kept missing everytime you would reach for the device, the obnoxious tone emitting constantly, or perhaps it was the horde of screaming stylists and the feeling of your manager pulling your legs out of bed, but you couldn’t bare to close your eyes again and instead of the smile you often wear on your risen face, a slight scowl plays on your lips. Sitting up on your plush mattress with knotted muscles, your stylists have already begun to pull you out of bed, along with your cries of lament. You had barely even rubbed your eyes to rid of the rheum that lined your eyelashes from your few hours of sleep before they had forced you down in a makeup chair, pressuring you to look at yourself in a circular mirror lined with LED lights.

Oh, how horrid, you thought. 

This years theme was Bridal, much to your mother’s dismay - she had believed in an old superstition that wearing a wedding dress before you even have the chance to get married only brings bad luck in your love life; but after she had seen the paycheck that would be wired into her account after you walk down the runway, her mind seemed to forget about the superstition altogether. You eyed the several pimples that had found their way onto your forehead in scrutiny, knowing that the makeup artist will most likely opt for a lighter look to fit the theme. 

“Don’t worry, the pieces you will be wearing will take the attention away from your newfound friends.” a teasing, familiar voice makes their way into your ears as you feel two hands resting on your shoulders. You perk up at the voice and look past your reflection to see Johnny’s friendly face, grinning ear to ear as he laughs at his own joke. Rolling your eyes, you lightly slap his hand on your right shoulder, cracking your first smile of the day. 

“I didn’t know you were coming, Johnny!” you exclaimed, turning around to face him. He was clad in a Raf Simmons cropped sweater with black trousers by Helmut Lang, the sense of casual attire yet the prices of the simple looking fabrics were more than ostentatious. He ruffles your unstyled hair with a mischievous grin. You and Johnny have grown closer in the months since the two of you met, constantly texting each other back and forth; it has gotten to the point where you consider him a best friend, right beside Irene. “You should have texted me!”

“That would have ruined the surprise!” Johnny laughs, walking towards the table in front of you and leaning against a spot where makeup wasn’t littered everywhere. As the makeup artist begins their work on your face, laying and spreading out tones of beige and browns and the slightest hints of pink, you and Johnny converse naturally. 

“So are you the only one that came?” you ask as you watch the makeup artist brush the slightest of coral toned blush onto the apples of your cheek; you’re unsure if it is Johnny’s presence that helped you become fully awake or if it’s due to the work of the artist, but you are positively impressed with how you look so far. 

“No,” Johnny pauses while he digs through one of the bags of makeup opened on the desk. You had solicited constantly to meet Johnny’s husband, Ten, only ever hearing about him through Johnny’s own words and stories - you wanted to meet him, especially since you had heard he was a big fan of yours. You gasp in surprise at his answer, joy setting down on your shoulders when you realize you might be finally meeting your friend’s lover, but it is swept from underneath you in just milliseconds. “I brought Jaehyun with me.” 

“Jaehyun?” you repeat after a few beats, to which he nods. 

“Yep, you know, my brother,” Johnny says, an unknowing smile gracing his features when he glances at you. “He had actually told me that the two of you bumped into each other in the Philippines; he wanted to come to fashion week to support you.”

“Oh…” you respond, trailing off. “Well, that’s very nice of him.” 

“It is,” Johnny confirms, returning the nude lipstick by MAC back into the unzipped bag before digging around again. “It’s quite peculiar, really. Ever since father appointed the chair to Jaehyun, he’s been… quite antagonistic towards me, but ever since his trip to the Philippines, he’s been… alright. Perhaps the merger with PunoLaw went splendidly.” 

You ignore the flip that your heart makes in your chest while the makeup artist sweeps streaks of highlight upon your cheekbones; there could be a number of reasons why Jaehyun’s temperament had gotten better - a simple exchange of greeting and a purchased drink of wine means nothing in a business trip to a foreign country. 

“Johnny,” you starts off, and he hums in response. “You don’t have to answer, but… have the both of you always had bad blood?” 

“I’m sure as someone next in line for the CEO of a company, you have obligations, right?” Johnny lets out a soft sigh, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he patently probes his mind for the correct words. He sets down the lipstick tube that he had been toying with and looks straight at you, a serious expression on his face. “Well… Jaehyun deals with these… obligations... differently. He’s always been a rambunctious man. He grew up thinking that the company would be passed down to me, so he didn’t care much for his own image - so when the news came out that he would be leading Jung & Associates in the future, he just… lashed out, he became slightly more antagonistic to everyone around him. He was never trained for that position, and he still doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Johnny pauses. “He’s just afraid.”

“Ah…” you hum after a short pause, your voice hanging in the air. As next in line for the executive position for Decoré, you are responsible in retaining your clean reputation; you were to be immaculate with your choices, you were expected to stay absolute and virtuous, they wished for you to hold a record that is the epitome of every parent’s wet dream. The constant demanding of these obligations, as well as the constant invariable conversations of marriage and children from your mother, takes a toll on your own wellness daily; you can never say what you truly want to say, you can never do what you truly want to do. You can never underestimate the press when they hone into your every action, words, glances and body language forged into the world with printed ink and a mass of pixels. One slip of character, and it could mean the end of the empire that your great-great grandmother had established. As you stare into the mirror, hairstylist taking over as they brush your hair with a flat comb, you think to yourself; perhaps Jung Jaehyun is just misjudged, perhaps his true reasons for his actions may not be what the media observes. Irene was not the sole heiress to her family’s fashion institute, so she does not know of the demanding expectations that comes forth with preparing for an established company to be in your hands; perhaps she heard of idle conversations of those envious and took their words of spite as gospel.

As time passes, you quickly come to when find yourself lined up backstage along with other models walking the catwalk. The show had just started, the piercing sound of classical piano music blaring through the speakers deafening to your ears as stylists make last minute touch ups on your makeup and dress. You are adorned in a beautiful metallic white dress by Valentino; the top made entirely of chiffon, with a low cut neckline, diamonds formed to cover your chest area. The skirt, made of tulle fabric, is decorated with strewn diamonds, every move you make sending each jewel to swing, making it look as if you had just bathed in a pool of gems. The billowy sleeves are also strewn with diamonds, you can already see the brilliant reflections of light against the harsh LED bulbs above. 

Your hair is pulled back into a braided low bun, your veil, attached to the bottom of your bun, trails behind you for meters, acting like a cape.; you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you draw closer towards the front of the line. You suck in a deep breath; you’ve walked countless runways in the past, it’s like a fluent language to you - straight back, intense eyes, just an inkling of attitude - yet, your mind seems to be in a haze, and you can comprehend exactly why. As the last model before you makes her way back behind the stage, you close your eyes momentarily, letting out a puff of hair, before setting off through the doors. 

Your fists relax, hands swaying by your side as the bright lights pointed towards the catwalk causes your dress to glimmer in ways you would only predict ever seeing in fantasy movies. You keep your face monotonous, taking in the audience’s gasps of delight and pleasure at the sight of your dress, the familiar sounds of cameras clicking over and over again proving louder than the booming violins blaring through the speakers. Your lips are flat, and expression featureless as you make your way to the very front of the catwalk - this is the dress’s show, and not yours. You see Johnny in the audience, camera in hand as he takes a few shots of your walk, but it is the man beside him that causes your eyes to slightly widen.

He looks far too beautiful, as if he should be the one walking the runway. His ash blonde hair is slicked back but in the way as if he had forked his dry fingers through his locks rather than wet with gel. He is dressed in a suit made of crushed velvet, also by Valentino, trousers highlighting the curves of his thighs, a pure black button up shirt underneath his velvet blazer. The people seated around him were focused on observing him and attempting to catch his attention rather than to give their attention to the piece that you displayed for them; but he - not paying one glance to your gown, not one glimpse to the veil that flowed behind you, not even regarding the rude chatter emitting around him sparked by his presence - keeps his eyes gazing into yours.

The feeling alone is enough to make you lose your breath, the sight of his deep, teasing eyes causing you to open your mouth slightly, urging you losing track of where you were supposed to be. But just as your lips lightly part, you force them closed in panic of feeling your muscles twitch at the movement; you watch as an amused smile plays his lips, before he crosses his arms over his chest. You tear your eyes away from his, pivoting on your heel as you make your way to the back behind the stage - but even through the chiffon fabric of your veil, you can feel the all-too familiar feeling of Jung Jaehyun’s eyes lingering on your form.

The after party is far too congested to your liking, and even though the air was rich with air conditioning, your skin feels moist to the touch after having to weave your way through hordes of people dancing and chatting with each other. You had traded in the wedding dress that you wore for a shorter light pink chiffon dress by Valentino that ended right before your knees, your feet are already sore from the heels that you’ve been wearing the entire day. You wonder if Johnny might be present at this party too, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to weave deeper into the venue through more crowds nor are you sure if your feet have enough vitality for a couple more steps. 

“Leaving early?” a distinctive voice causes you to halt before you can walk through the exit. You turn your head, ready to face impact before facing Jaehyun. He has a small smile on his face, cradling a coca-cola can in his hand. “If so, can I leave with? I lost Johnny in the crowd.”

A smile appears on your lips. “Johnny is over six feet tall, I find it hard to believe that you lost him, Jung Jaehyun,” you tell him, quirking your eyebrow, to which he lets out a chuckle, glancing down at his coca-cola. “But yes, you may join.”

The next few minutes are a flurry of exchanges with the guards at the door and retrieving your coats from the lobby. As you walk through the exit doorways, you can only sigh in content when the cool, December breeze kisses the clammy skin of your neck, sweat accumulated from the overcrowded afterparty. It is twelve at midnight, and the streets house only a few people walking up and down the cobblestone roads. You’re glad that your manager had packed a pair of Tory Burch flats for you in your purse, your heels finally getting the rest they need as you turn towards the direction of your hotel, but the reminder in the form of a person speaks before you could hobble off.

“How long will you be staying in Milan?” Jaehyun finds a pace in walking beside you, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his black Burberry trench coat. You take your arms and pull the front lapels of your tweed coat by Gucci. 

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning,” you tell him, looking at the streets in front of you. The stars were on display in the night sky, and lamps have lit up, dimly illuminating the roads. You can feel the heat radiating off of Jaehyun as he listens intently to you; your stomach flips with an emotion that you cannot decipher. “Mother wants me back in Seoul before she begins clearing the pieces for her collection releases by Spring. And you?” 

“I’ll be here until Tuesday,” he says, in a tone of dread, the both of you slowing down your walking pace. “Jung & Associates are establishing a branch here, I’ll just be doing the finalizations - then I’ll be back in Seoul.” 

You look at him in surprise. “Really?” you question. “How interesting.”

“Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again on the streets of Myeong-dong.” he grins, kilowatt smile spreading across his face causing his dimples to form on his cheeks. You eye them before looking away, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up - you still had to be careful around him, you are unsure as to what his true character is really like. 

You let out a hum. “You know what, Jung Jaehyun?” you start off in a hesitant teasing tone, unsure of how to interact with him; you didn’t want to accidentally set him off, in case Irene was actually correct with her hypothesis, however, you weren’t sure if Johnny was telling the truth either, details far too vague for your liking. “I’m starting to think you’re actually following me.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air as the two of you round a corner, the Navigli canal coming into view, lit up by the streetlamps that litter beside it; it was breathtaking scenery, it never fails to cause your heartbeat to quicken whenever you catch sight of it - everything about the view is romantic. He walks towards the body of water, strolling to the concrete railing. He halts, growing silent, eyes fixated on the number of stars illuminating the night sky. Even through all the dim light posts, you are still able to see the glimmering spots shining outside of the Earth’s atmosphere. You watch the back of Jaehyun’s head as he shoves his hands inside the pockets of his coat. Hesitantly, you approach him, coming to a pause beside him just as you see the profile of his face; his eyes are trained solely on the stars, the ghost of a smile teasing his lips. Turning your head to look at the stars with him, the both of you stay in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Sometimes,” you’re the first to break the silence, eyes still training on the stars. “Whenever I stroll past this canal, I envision those classic movies filmed in Europe; a confession of love near the body of water, a kiss in the rain surrounded by romantic architecture.” 

You are unsure as to why those are the first words that fall past your lips, but you let out a dreamy sigh, scenes of Audrey Hepburn to Marilyn Monroe, recollecting portrayals of old-school love play in your mind. Jaehyun looks away from the sky, switching his gaze towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“You yearn for love?” he questions you, and you giggle softly, crossing your arms over your chest as a chilling breeze kisses your neck. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” you question him, eyes trailing along the gothic architecture of the streets of Milan. “I’ve dreamt of it since I was a little girl, but everyday, it seems as if my chance at finding it grows more impossible.” 

Jaehyun is silent for a few seconds, you can still feel his eyes lingering on your face. “And what if you’ve already found your love?”

You gulp, biting down on your bottom lip. Your eyes cast downwards towards the body of water before you open your mouth. You aren’t sure why, but your heartbeat bangs against your chest painfully, and your ears are heating up despite the fact that the air is chilly. You let out a sigh, fog of condensation escaping your lips. “I mustn’t.”

“Why not?” 

“Because my mother will defy the man I choose,” you pause, a pitiful smile finding its way onto your face. “I know that I will be forced to marry someone from her inner circle to ensure Decoré’s future. I don’t have a choice in this matter anyway,” you let out a chuckle before turning to him, his eyes training on yours. “The position comes with disadvantages, and it makes me rethink my options even though I’ve ached to lead Decoré all my life.”

“But that does not mean you shouldn’t live,” he trails off. “Just because your life is led by responsibility… doesn’t mean you should avoid love.” 

“There’s no other way, Jaehyun,” you tell him. You extract your hands from deep within the pockets of your tweed coat and press your palms again the concrete railing before you form them into fists. “I’m sure that you understand as well, your company is being handed down to you - you have an image to uphold, right?”

He grows silent. “Yes, I do.” 

“Love is a risk that I’d rather not make.” you say. You have dated in the past, once in middle school, with a boy named Jeon Jungkook, a short relationship that lasted for only three days, and your first year in college, with a boy named Kim Mingyu, which lasted deftly for eight months - both relationships, of which, weren’t serious at all. Kim Mingyu was your first kiss, and first time; you remember the crushing disappointment at the lack of sparks that flew between the both of you each time your bodies were pressed against each other. Additionally, your name has been caught in multiple articles since the beginning of forging your model career that articulated dating rumours with you and innumerable celebrities and other of the elite class, all of which had been false. The feedback that you received during those times were immensely painful for you, and you worked hard to keep your reputation clear since then.

“But life, itself, is a risk. Is it not?” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed, but his eyes are not directed towards you, instead training on the Gothic buildings situated opposite from where you are standing, on the other side of the canal. You press your lips into a straight line, furrowing your eyebrows together as you think of his sentence, not knowing how to reply.

As you open your mouth to finally answer, a familiar tone emits through the air. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and grabs his vibrating phone, letting out a sigh when his eyes land on the screen of his phone. Turning to you, he outstretches a hand towards you for you to shake, a gracious smile on his face, dimples in full view, but his eyes are still dull. You take your hand and enclose your fingers around his, deja-vu as you memorize the warmth of his skin around your cold hands, before weakly shaking his fist.

“I have to go,” Jaehyun says, putting his phone back into his pocket, not accepting the call. You find that peculiar, but it is not your business, so you do not press. “I’ll see you when I get back to Seoul?” 

You smile at him, nodding your head. “Yes,” you tell him. “I’ll see you then.”

And as you turn to part ways, he lingers his gaze on you only for a second more, before pivoting on his heel. Just outside the doors of your hotel that you stayed in while in Milan, the only image that clouds your mind is of the last gaze that he had given you, almost certain that he held longing in his pupils, and as you think of the lasting image that haunts your brain, you are reminded of your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, this time, accompanied with the slight excitement that rises in the pit of your stomach.

-----

The cool, frigid, January air laces into the studio, entirely made of hard concrete, excluding the various set pieces spread around the area. You lay on top of a long, woven seat, bare legs, hair standing up in defense of the chilly breeze, hanging off the side of the arm rest. You are draped in only an oversized, pure-white shirt, the fabric blanketing your sighs and sleeves barely able to hang onto your shoulder; clickings of camera ensue, underneath the humming bass of the Frank Ocean song blaring through the speakers. Today was the day you had finally scheduled your photoshoot with Johnny, eager for the outcome as you let your head slightly hand from the other side of the woven seat.

“Point your chin just a bit upwards, (Y/N),” Johnny tells you from off the set. Johnny uses a particular method of photography, using natural lighting from outside to create an authentic ambience in his photos - the only window in the studio was a large, panoramic one that had the most beautiful view of the garden. His studio is located on the Jung premises, in its own little estate behind the main house; when you had walked through the main gates you had felt completely intimidated by the domineering aura of the house, much larger than your own - it took up nearly two football fields,  and it was then when you realized how powerful this family really is. “Okay, there, perfect!”

The humming of the bass of songs emitting from Johnny’s playlist as well as the clicks of his film camera are the only sounds that emit between the both of you as you try out different poses, boudoir poses come naturally to you. Johnny had given you one of his own shirts to use as clothing, the oversized fabric hanging off you loosely. A break ensues halfway through the shoot, at five p.m., almost three hours since you had begun posing. The sun has already set an hour ago, winter nights a longer span than winter mornings, and you desperately had the urge to pee, having downed an entire bottle of water before the shoot due to your adrenaline.

“Hey, Johnny?” you ask while he reviews his photos. He looks up towards you in curiosity, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Where’s the bathroom?” 

“Oh,” he says, setting his camera down before he begins to use charades as a way to give you the directions. “Down the hall, on the third left, fifth door on the right side. If you want, the lower bathroom is a lot more cleaner.” 

“No, it’s alright,” you let out a laugh, before walking out of the studio. When one would say the Jung Estate was big; it was big. Multiple hallways and multiple doors make up the interior of the estate, and it wasn’t even the main house on the Jung premises - this estate was only slightly smaller in size compared to the large castle-like structure that stood before the front gates. It seemed a little silly to you - who needs this many rooms? You were almost sure that Johnny and Ten, who you finally had the fortunate chance of meeting earlier that afternoon, were the only two who resided in this house - yet it’s so vastly empty, not even one inkling of a server or butler. 

You follow the directions that Johnny had given you just a few minutes ago to no attempt because before you know it, you are lost in a daze of paintings and golden decals. He said third right, right?, you thought to yourself as you look around. You weren’t even sure which direction your had come from, the diminishing sunlight from outside beginning to darken the hallways. You let out a sigh as you take a chance, figuring that if you were wrong anyways, you’d just be greeted to an empty room and you’d have to force your bladder to not erupt for a few more minutes until you’d finally find the bathroom. You push a large, mahogany door open, the creaking reverberating off the marble walls of the hallway, and then you pause.

“Jesus, Johnny, can’t you knock?” his voice seems aggravated while he’s hunched over a desk, face buried into a stack of paper. “I told you, I’m doing paperwork right now. I’m b-” 

His eyes automatically widen when he looks up towards the door, eyes snapping to yours. A plane of glass covers his eyes, entwined with a golden frame as they perch neatly on his nose, ash blonde hair in messy ruffles, obviously having had his fingers run through them numerous times throughout the night. He wears a simple, basic, white button up shirt, with simple black trouser bottoms, the most casual attire you have ever seen him wear; yet, he still looked stunning. However, his eyes are boring right at you, the pen in his hand freezing from writing letters as his pupils begin to slowly move down your body.

“Jaehyun,” you finally let out a breath, stammering as you slowly back away from the doorway. “Sorry, oh my gosh, I’m doing a shoot with Johnny right now and I was trying to find the bathroom… um, I got lost.” 

His jaw visibly clenches and you see his adam’s apple bob against his throat before standing up and lightly swipes his hands on his thighs. “Don’t worry about it, I just got taken aback.” he gulps, as he begins to walk towards you, adjusting the glasses that perch on his nose. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Your face immediately flushes, eyes, if not already at their widest, widen even more as you let out a gasp. You have never felt a fabric of clothing cause your stomach to explode in your life, yet, for some reason, that was the only feeling you could muster as you feel the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt brush against your thighs. “I’m sorry,” you apologize once more, letting out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t know this was your shirt. Johnny said it was his.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air. “The nerve of that man, he still continues to steal my clothing for props,” he shakes his head, tsking. “Here, I can show you where the bathroom is - this house has so many unneeded rooms, it’s silly.” 

You follow him through the corridors; the sun had already set completely, the moon now shining above that casts into the hallways through the lined windows. The sound of Jaehyun’s shoes swiping against the floor and the dull sounds of the pads of your feet hitting the marble flooring is the only noise heard in the air between you both, your face still sprinkled with hues of red from the feeling of the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt brushing past your thighs. He walks you into the other hall across from where you had opened the door to his room, and stops right in front of a door similar to the ones around it. 

“Here you are,” he says, pivoting on his heel and pushing the door to the bathroom open, the door creaks as it slightly cracks ajar. You let out a sigh of relief, grinning at him. “You just turned the wrong way, but fortunately you found me, or else you’d probably still be lost in the hallways.” 

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” you tell him graciously, pulling the front of the shirt you are wearing to make sure that your sleeves don’t slip past your shoulders and show them bare. He gives you a silent nod before he begins to walk back to his study room, but you gasp and grab his hand, slightly pulling him back, to which he freezes, turning towards you. 

“What is it?” he asks you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. You are only thankful that the hallways are dim, you can practically feel the heat of your cheeks radiating off your skin. 

“S-Sorry,” you stammer; you seem to be apologizing to Jaehyun repeatedly that night.“I didn’t mean to touch you - that was really rude of me. It’s just… can you wait? Um, I don’t know how to get back to the studio and it’s… really dark, and the hallways are slightly creepy.” 

His worry sets on his face for only a second longer before his lips form into a small smile, eyes forming into slight crescents as he nods. “Of course,” he says. He rests his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom. “I’ll be right here.” 

You give him a grateful smile before walking into the doors of the bathroom - you first catch yourself in the mirror, face a deep shade of red as you inwardly cringe at how fast the boy had taken you off guard. Slapping your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to calm your heartbeat panging against your ribcage, you let out a few gasps of air. Washing your hands before opening the door again, you only will yourself to keep your stance calm and cool around Jaehyun, but you know that will all crash to the floor the moment you turn the doorknob.

When you step out, you see that Jaehyun is still waiting beside the door, his back pressed against the wall as his thumbs swipe at the screen of his phone. At the crack of light that emitted from within the bathroom, he finally looks up at you with a smile, turning the screen of his phone off with a click and standing upright. You are unsure of what to say, words seem to be caught stuck in your throat every time you look at him. 

“I can walk you to Johnny’s studio,” he lets out a laugh as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his trousers before he runs his hands through his hair, ash blonde locks falling onto his forehead one by one. “I never thought you’d be the type to be afraid of the dark, (Y/N).”

Again, you are unsure of what to say, only letting a giggle fall past your lips in response. Fortuitously, your stomach seems to be dashing around in circles as you watch his eyes trained on yours, shadows of the corridor darkening the edges of his face and the pale moonlight from outside causing his cheekbones to come out even more angular. His eyes are darker than ever, as he watches you, and even though it is dim, you are almost sure the corner of his lips twitch upright. Your breath hitches in your throat and in blushing panic, and so you twirl around, hoping for him to simply catch on and lead you back towards the studio - but his booming, baritone voice, much like the first time you had heard him speak at Johnny’s exhibition in October, causes your step to falter.

“Are you going to do something with the way you look at me?” 

It’s ironic how the weight of a few words can change the entire dynamic of an established acquaintanceship; merely a pin dropping on the ground and detonating into flames to burn down the walls that had already been put up, built with blocks composed with intimidated hesitance and lethal attraction. The inflection of his voice weaved through the air like a ribbon made of silk before devouring your nerves, sending jolts through your body in ripples, breath becoming hitched in your throat as an all too familiar emotion that you’ve been forcing to push down, that you’ve coaxed yourself into feeling mystified about, begins to rise in the pit of your stomach. His words echo through the long, dark corridors before they come to a halt, silence seducing the air between your bodies, but you stay frozen, and your lips stay unmoving. You hear him step closer, the heel of his shoes slightly clicking against the marble flooring, and it sends waves through your body again.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low, stern, the same voice you had heard the night you had heard him speak at Johnny’s photography exhibition.

Your breath shakes when you finally part your lips. “Yes, Jaehyun?” you stammer. 

“Answer my question.” he whispers. He stands close, you can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric that drapes your body. The tension that dances between the both of you is thick, emotions of both excitement and yearning burning in your chest. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and it urges you to squeeze your thighs together to combat the aching need between your legs. 

“I should be the one asking you that, Jung Jaehyun, since you practically fuck me with your eyes every time we meet.” the tone of your voice is surprising to you when it falls past your lips, your hand snapping to your mouth as you widen your eyes - you hear him chuckle lightly behind you just seconds before you feel the pads of his fingers dance on the back of your neck, gently moving your hair onto one shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you were capable of speaking like that,” his voice juxtaposes his actions, laced with intent. He presses his warm hands against the white fabric on your collarbone before he slides it down to bare your shoulder, the cool air of the corridors causing your thin hairs to stand up. “Always so polite and careful, I wanna know what other noises fall past those pretty lips of yours.”

He roughly turns you around, as if a switch were flipped inside him - it’s only now when you have taken in how tall he was, even if he were slightly shorter than Johnny, his physique was large compared to yours, and that excites you. His umber eyes penetrated yours as he takes his glasses off and sets them on the top of his head before he uses his forefinger and thumb to force you to look at him, proud smirk playing on his lips. His domineering attitude, and your want for challenge - they both crash together like fire, flames licking at each other to create even larger chaos. As you gaze into his eyes, breath rattling your ribcage, you are finally able to discern the emotion that swam within his pupils, an emotion that had befuddled you since the first time your eyes landed on his. Desire. 

“You make me go so fucking crazy,” he whispers before his lips dart to your neck, peppering wet kisses along your jawline. You let out a gasp when he nips at the skin of your neck, the ache in your panties growing stronger every time his tongue flicks out to soothe a spot. He cradles your cheek in his hand as your lean your head back to give him more space, yearning for his touch. You feel the warmth of his hand he had used to cradle your cheek cascading down your body roughly, hovering over your breasts as he continues to lap at your neck.  “God, ever since the first time I saw you, the things I’ve been thinking about doing to you - and now here you are standing in one of my shirts, and, fuck.”

You buck your hips, cupping his cheeks as you push him away from your neck to force him to look back into your eyes - his eyes, sharp, cuts into yours, the meager sight causing an aching throb to pulsate through you once more. “Tell me the things you’ve thought about doing to me,” you whisper, tracing your thumb over the plumpness of his bottom lip, you bring him closer to your face - you feel his hot breath on your lips. “Tell me, and then do them to me.”

A sigh escaped his lips before they finally come to meet yours, enveloping yours against his own in a flurry of desperation - you hadn’t realized how much you hungered for this moment until the feeling of felicity settled within you, your longing moan dancing into his mouth. Perhaps it was his own desperation too that had been building up for months leading up to this moment, perhaps it was the sound that escaped from deep within your lungs that excited him, but his hands rush to cup your sopping panties causes a gasp to escape from your mouth. “I’ve imagined you like this,” his voice is a whisper when you pull away at the sensation of his fingers pressing against your clothed pussy. “Whimpering for me, begging for me, trying to keep yourself quiet.”

Short gasps escape from you as he continues to work against the thin fabric, adding more and more pressure as he moves his hands in circular motions. “J-Jaehyun,” you moan, trying your best to keep yourself quiet. You don’t want your whimpers to travel down the hallway and possibly lace into Johnny’s ears - the act would be mortifying to you. “What if Johnny sees us?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he grunts, hand roughly toying with your clothed clit. Your hips buck against his hand, and if it weren’t for how needy you felt, letting this man have his way with you, you’d be ashamed at how wet you’ve already become, soaking through your panties. Slowly, he moves them to the side before he glides a finger along your bare entrance; sensitive already, you shudder. “Fuck, look at you, so fucking wet and ready. You want me that bad, (Y/N)?” 

You sink your lips into your bottom lip, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. Your face is hot, blushing as his tongue flicks out from between his lips to lick them. He continues to glide his long finger against you, eyes boring into yours as he does, watching as every expression of eagerness flashes across your features. His forefinger mockingly dips into your entrance for a fleeting moment, the sensation of him inside you one second and gone the next causing you to mewl out in frustration. He lets out a dark chuckle as you furrow your eyebrows, willing yourself to keep it together.

“I asked you a question, darling.” he mumbled darkly, dipping the tip of his forefinger inside of your sopping heat once again. “Answer my question and you’ll get your prize.”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you bite back your moan when he dips his finger inside you again, taunting you. Your breathing becomes heavy with every dip he makes, aching for him to do something about the need inside of you, bucking your hips against his hand, soaked with your juices. “I want you so bad, I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jaehyun, fuck, please.” 

He lets out a dark chuckle beside your ear before he plunges the fullness of his forefinger inside of you, a gasp escaping you at the sudden entrance. He pumps the single finger in and out of you with ease, spreading your legs wider with his knee; he has large hands with long, slender fingers, the sensation of just one doesn’t meet your fancy, but it’s enough to relieve the itch that had begun to build inside of you. “Fuck!” 

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, watching your face contort into pleasured expressions, condescending smirk turning into an enchanted one, lips parting and eyebrows turning upward. He adds his middle finger, spreading your pussy wider as he begins to pick up the pace of his thrusting, arm flexing as the moonlight hits the veins that decorate along his forearms. “Shit, (Y/N), has your tight cunt been fucked before?” 

All you could muster out was a whine as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, your mind nothing but a fog of haze while he reaches deeper and deeper into your core, as if he were planning to leave his mark inside of you. You had been fucked before, by your last boyfriend, Mingyu, but not like this - never like this. Foreplay was never on his mind, giving you pleasure was something he had never thought of doing; you barely even remember a time he had given you a leg-shaking orgasm, which, if Jaehyun continued to reach inside of you like that, you’re sure you’ll have your first one by tonight. “So fucking tight, all for me, isn’t that right, darling?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” your voice is thin, still attempting to keep yourself hush, not wanting the immoral act to be known to your friend just a few doors down the hall, still waiting on your return from your break - but you’re almost sure that the lewd, wet noises of his palm slapping against your wet cunt that echoes against the pillars and golden framed paintings that line the corridors may prove your wish hopeless. Jaehyun’s fingers brush against the spot that causes your legs to shake, and with a knowing glint in his umber eyes, he continues to brush against it. “Jaehyun, shit, right there, fuck! Fuck, yeah, just like that!”

He heeds to your words, the tips of his fingers grazing against your g-spot repeatedly, and you feel yourself unravelling. It takes all for you to not let your eyes roll to the back of your head, screwing your eyes shut as you focus on his fingers stretching your walls out in a steady, rough motion; walls beginning to clench around him, you feel your desired orgasm coming. “You’re gonna cum, (Y/N)?” he questions you as your walls quiver around his digits. “You’re gonna cum just from the use of my fingers alone? Dirty girl, tell me who owns this cunt.” 

A hot sigh leaves your lips, barely focusing on his voice due to the yearning of your release. Whining, you open your eyes again to look into his, begging with your pupils to get him to continue, but his face is monotonous. “J-Jaehyun,” your voice is weak. “I’m gonna cum.” 

“Answer my fucking question, (Y/N), or else I won’t let you cum at all,” his tone is dark, which gives you all the more to whine as he picks up the pace of his fingers, sinful noises filling your ears. The act alone causes the knot in the pit of your stomach to unravel just a little more, and Jaehyun leans down to bite the skin of the crook of your neck. “Fucking tell me who owns this dirty little cunt, (Y/N).”

“You do,” you whimper, voice juddering with every thrust his fingers make. “You do, it’s yours, it’s all fucking yours! P-Please!” 

“It’s all mine?” he taunts you, he’s panting now as well, digits flashing in and out of you at a speed you weren’t even aware that a human can make. “What is? What’s all mine?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” you whine in aggravation. The aching need to orgasm causes the strain you’ve put on your words to escape, voice loud against the marble walls. “It’s yours! This cunt is all yours! It’s fucking yours! It’s yours to fuck and, and, it’s yours t-to… fuck! I’m coming!” 

It hits you in waves, the feeling of pleasure enveloping your body as you feel your pussy pulsate against his hand. You crane your neck back as he continues to lap at your neck, leaving memoirs of his presence in the form of soft-red markings across your skin. As the orgasm leaves your body, you are left with quivering legs, barely mustering the energy to hold yourself against the marble walls, much to the man’s amusement. It’s obvious what the two of you had done; his hand glistens with your juices against the light of the moon that travels through the planes of glass across the hall; the fabric of the shirt that he had adorned was wrinkled from your pulling and clenching of fists; your lips, that had been painted a deep shade of red prior, were now a lighter red, and Jaehyun seemed to have the same shade on, and the lingering fluid that escaped from your cunt during your orgasm lines across your inner thighs. 

As you come down from your orgasm, his lips find their way to pressing against yours once more, gentle in touch this time. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him close, closer than you had ever thought of him being. You feel pricklings traveling through your nerves as his tongue enters your mouth, and you find yourself yearning for more just before he pulls away, panting heavily. As he parts his lips to speak, you hear footsteps walking down the hall, and you gasp, pushing him off of you and adjusting your attire and hair, letting the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt fall past your thighs to cover the residue of what had just happened. Jaehyun watches you with an amused smile on his face, wiping his hands on the back of his trousers and grabbing the glasses that stayed atop his head and perching them back on his nose again, carelessly brushing his pure-white sleeve against his lips that causes the dark lipstick that you had stained his face with to rub off. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear Johnny’s familiar voice call just before he comes around the corner, the flashlight of his phone dashing around the corridor. He turns to the corridor you and Jaehyun both stood in, jumping in shock for only a second - possibly thinking he had come across ghosts - before visibly relaxing and walking towards you in his confident gait, his phone still flashing in the darkness. You squint, terrified that he might be able to deduce what happened between the both of you with the torchlight. “God! You were gone for so long! I heard yelling! What happened?” 

“She got lost trying to find the bathroom, and I scared her.” Jaehyun lies with ease, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. You eyed him for a few seconds, gaze lingering his body - he seemed so casual, as if what had just happened sprung only in your mind, but you are still able to detect a trace of your MAC lipstick on the side of his lips and the messy waves of his hair that your hands were entangled in. Yet, you were still appalled at how easy the lies fell past his lips. “She started yelling at me, it was really funny.” 

“Jaehyun, you bastard,” Johnny sighs, sending him a sharp eye before turning around and patting your hair down. For a second, he squints towards your lip, and you fear that he found the first clue of what the two of you had been doing, but he seems to ignore it, eyes flashing back up to yours. “If you want me to beat my brother’s head in with my camera, I’ll be happy to do it.”

You open your mouth to answer but Jaehyun’s voice interrupts you. “Hey, if it weren’t for me, she would still be lost in your stupid winding corridors,” he gruffs, crossing his arms over his chest; the action highlights the muscles underneath the thin fabric of his shirt but you will yourself to look away. “She’ll just have to owe me. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?” 

His voice has a hint of amusement in it, tone lighthearted as he sends you a smile with crescent-shaped eyes, and your heart jumps in not lust, but with something else you have yet to figure out - but you’re aware of the hidden connotations of his sentence, the feeling that Jaehyun had reached into your core slightly coming back at the thoughts that race around your mind of images of him. You only nod, throat going dry, before smiling simply.

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you heed his words, and for a fleeting second, an amused smile on his face shone with a lordly flame. “I owe you.”

-----

The night that you laid in bed trying to daze into slumber after your first encounter with Jung Jaehyun proved a sleepless one, one that kept you rolling over and over again in your plush bed, constantly flipping your pillows and kicking your duvet out of sheer frustration. The memories of Jaehyun’s sinful words and breathy grunts, recalling his fingers flashing in and out of you, brought back the itch inside of you like no other; you only fell asleep after finding solace in your own fingers, and even they couldn’t cause you to reach the heights Jaehyun had shown you.

You do not tell Irene; you couldn’t tell Irene, and you shouldn’t tell Irene, because you are certain that she will blow a gasket the moment the man in question’s name leaves your lips because you did not listen to her. You have never lied to your best friend before, nor have you ever kept a secret from her - but it is for the best for the situation. Besides, you and Jaehyun were only using each other for each other’s body, to let desires that shouldn’t be exhibited in public out - at least, that’s what you believed, and your best friend doesn’t have to know that. Yet, each time she walks to your side with an indication of concern in her brow, you find it hard to keep your secrets locked within your lips.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” asks Irene, her voice muffled underneath the soft chatter of a high-end lounge she had invited you to. You stare down into the liquid of your tonic water, choosing something non-alcoholic in order to keep your honesty and deceit under control. “You’ve been really quiet lately. Is there something troubling you?”

“No worries, Irene,” you muster a small smile, genuine enough to see her body relax as you swish your water in your glass. It’s grating to know how effortless it was for you to lie to her. “Nothing is the matter. I’m just a little tired from my schedules lately, I’m really sorry if it’s been making you uncomfortable.” 

She pouts slightly, not quite believing your tale. “(Y/N),” she tells you, grabbing your hand. You felt guilt shake through your nerves at her touch - but you cannot tell her about you and Jaehyun, even if your life depended on it. “Don’t worry about me, okay? If something is the matter, tell me, okay? I’m your best friend - your sister - for a reason.” 

“Of course, Irene.” you say, the fib falling past your lips and disappearing into thin air. She nods once, a concerned gaze lingering on you for only one last second before she tears her eyes off of you to look back at the menu on the bar in front of her. Irene had invited you to accompany her at a new lounge that had opened up in Myeong-dong, apparently owned by a good friend of hers named Lee Taeyong. Seokjin was due to show up in a few minutes after a scheduled meeting, and according to Irene, may have in tow a friend of his that ‘you may be interested in.’

As she turns her attention towards the menu, you find yourself gazing back down at your tonic water, watching as the liquid swashes against the clear collins glass, soon becoming bored with it. Your eyes then find themselves exploring the sight of the lounge in front of you - you and Irene sat right in the middle of the lounge, at the bar, the sleek black marble table rounded as baristas around inside the circle juggle around alcoholic drinks and other platters to deliver to their patents. Outside of the circle, there are multiple seats with tables, occupied with several gentlemen in suits and ladies covered in Dior. The extravagance of it all was very familiar to you, for having grown up in an environment much like it, regardless; you would be lying if you were to say you hadn’t grown tired of it.

“Oh, they’re here!” Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze and look towards the entrance in front of you, Seokjin’s familiar face coming into view as he hands one of the servers his Burberry coat; behind him is a man not much shorter than him, jet black tufts of hair and sharp observant eyes. For a second, you feel your heart race in your chest - whoever Seokjin had brought is definitely a beautiful man, and perhaps Irene was right about taking an interest in him, however, you shouldn’t jump before you had talked to him. 

“Hello, darling, hello (Y/N),” Seokjin embraces the two of you before he stands out of the way to pull in the man following idly behind him. Upon closer inspection, his facial features are some of the most sharpest you’ve ever seen - his eyes, obviously sharp from a distance, are cutting up close, jawline whetted and embracing against his sleek lips. You feel as if you’ve seen him before, but you can’t pinpoint where. “This is Kim Doyoung, he’s currently filming a movie under Kim Productions right now.”

The familiarity hits you like a train as you recall seeing his face on your screen many times - he’s a very celebrated actor in South Korea, especially so since he had broken into the Western film industry. You weren’t much of a big fan of movies, finding yourself falling asleep no matter the genre or amount of stars the movie acquired, but you know a famous face when you see one. After he greets Irene with a kind smile, you stretch your hand outwards to address him, a gracious simper on your face. “It’s very nice to meet you, Doyoung. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

You and Doyoung are quick to become close, letting the engaged couple next to the two of you converse to themselves. As the night drones on and as people in identical Brunello suits and Dior dresses pile in and out of the lounge, you and Doyoung share stories of your childhood, finding out that he wasn’t born into the world of money like you were, instead having to find his way up and through the industry by making sacrifices. You discover that he has an estranged relationship with his parents, instead finding familial solace in his brother who is also an actor, named Gongmyung. You learn of his hobbies, that he enjoyed singing and reading, and find out that before he had pursued the world of acting, he had thought of heading into the direction of law and government. 

For an hour and a half, you find yourself delved into the person that is Kim Doyoung, realizing that this is discussion prevails information of most people you know other than your two closest friends. In the middle of a conversation on the topic of college, you begin to abandon the lingering memories that had been taking up your mind by the man who had left remnants of himself in it. Perhaps, you spoke too soon.

“Kim Doyoung,” the familiar voice sends jolts through your body as if it were an involuntary impulse. You tear your eyes from Doyoung’s sharp, yet friendly gaze and let them sink into Jung Jaehyun’s soft, but intense ones. He is dressed in a plain black button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows as he cradles a glass of cheval blanc, arm adorned with his Daniel Wellington watch, hand deep in the pocket of his black trousers. His hair is slicked back but to the side, few strands swaying against his forehead. A smirk plays on his lip, and the sight of it makes your thighs clench in response. “It’s been a while since we’ve last met.” 

“Jung Jaehyun, long time no see,” Doyoung’s voice holds restraint when his eyes meet Jaehyun’s, a look of revolt flashing in them before he stands to his feet to bow. “I heard that Jung & Associates will be under your command soon. Congratulations.” 

“Yes,” he concurs, taking a sip of his champagne as he pulls up a chair next to Doyoung. He has not looked at you once since arriving into the conversation, but something about his tone of voice leads you to think he is blatantly aware of your presence, such as you are of his. “And I heard that you starred in a film that was nominated for an Academy award? How delightful. It was the one with the zombies, right?” 

Doyoung sets his glass of sauvignon blanc onto the bar, gulping down the liquid. “Yes.”

“Well, congratulations to you.” a haughty smirk guised as an amiable smile makes its way onto Jaehyun’s face before his eyes finally land on you, training on your face for a few seconds before they begin to slowly make their way down your form clad in a tulle minidress by Marchesa. “(Y/N), a pleasure to see you here.” 

“Jaehyun.” you nod once, tightening your fingers around the stem of your wine. “It’s nice to see you here too. The two of you know each other?”

Doyoung looks up from his glass, towards you. “The two of us were in multiple classes together during college, before I dropped out to pursue acting,” he explains. He seemed apprehensive, and you acknowledge why - the presence of Jaehyun is far too strong to bear. “We are very close friends. I see the both of you are close, as well.” 

Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt him before he says anything. “Actually,” you say, correcting him. “Jaehyun and I are just acquaintances - we know each other through his brother, Johnny.” 

“Ah, I see.” Doyoung nods, before he begins occupying himself with sips of his wine. Through the awkward silence, you turn your gaze to Jaehyun, whose eyes train on you with an emotion you can only decipher as need, a knowing glint in both of his pupils. Flashes of his fingers disappearing in and out of you play through your mind, and you cross your legs together to combat the growing feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“So what brings you here, Jaehyun?” you ask the man after he orders himself another glass of cheval blanc; Doyoung, in between the two of you, stays silent. 

“I just finished a meeting with Park & Kim Law, and was about to head to the exit when I saw you and an old friend conversing, and I thought, why not?” he says, leaning forward on both of his elbows to direct his gaze fully onto you without the diversion of Doyoung’s head. You quirk your eyebrow for a nanosecond at the fleeting thought of a law firm meeting taking place at a lounge, but you let it go. “And you, (Y/N), what brings you and Doyoung here? A date, perchance?” 

His voice is soft, but with the slightest inkling of venomous jealousy, quirking his eyebrows as the words leave his mouth. “No!” you find yourself saying far too quickly, an amused smile making its way onto Jaehyun’s face. “Doyoung and I actually just met, we’re here with Seokjin and Irene.” you turn around to face the engaged couple who were sat next to you, deep in conversation as if they were in their own world. You turn back towards Jaehyun, whose eyes were not looking at yours, but are now gazing at someplace lower. “Actually, I was just about to leave. I have a schedule tomorrow morning.”

“I see,” Jaehyun hums, his top teeth sinking down into his bottom lip as he listens to you. He turns to Doyoung, resting his jaw against his fist, almost taunting him. “Will you be accompanying her, Doyoung? Drop her off at home?” 

Doyoung lets out a sigh as he takes another swing of his wine, looking up towards you, the nervousness behind his eyes since Jaehyun had arrived replaced with a flame. “I’m afraid I still have business to discuss with Seokjin,” he says apologetically, straightening his back and turning his body fully around to ignore Jaehyun’s presence. “If I could, I would gladly drive you home - the streets aren’t safe this time of night.”

“It’s alright, Doyoung,” you let out a laugh, setting a hand down on his shoulder - as you do, you feel Jaehyun’s eyes burning through your hand. “I’ll just call my chauffeur, which, speaking of calling, may I ask for your number?” 

He complies, and you let out a shaky breath as you feel Jaehyun’s gaze lingering on your skin growing stronger and stronger; just as Doyoung hands you your phone back with his newly added contact, Jaehyun stands from his seat. “I can drive you home.” 

You raise your eyebrows in surprise before a slight smirk makes its way onto your lips. “You don’t have to, Jaehyun, really,” you tell him, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’ll just call my chauffeur - they are always on duty.”

“No, I insist,” Jaehyun speaks, far too quickly to save face. The tips of his ears are red, much to your pleasure; he’s jealous. “Doyoung is right, the streets aren’t safe this time of night, and I think it would be better for you to come with me considering that we already do have an established knowledge of each other - plus, it’s what Johnny would want for me to do. What’s your address?”

You simply quirk your eyebrow at him before standing up from your seat and collecting your things, reciting your address as Jaehyun puts it into a GPS app on his phone. As you turn towards your best friend, deep in conversation with her fiancé, you apprehensively tap her on her shoulder. Irene turns towards you in the middle of a sentence with a look of wonder on her face when she sees you ready to go. Searching for the will to lie to her face once again, you force your shaking breath to calm. “Hey, Irene, I have a really early schedule tomorrow - I’ll be leaving, alright?”

“Oh, is Doyoung taking you home?” asks Irene, eyes flashing to the jet-black haired man still seated on his stool, staring into his glass. You shake your head.

“No, Jaehyun will be taking me home,” your voice is nonchalant enough to not raise suspicion, but Irene’s eyebrows raise in disturbance the moment his name slips from your lips. She leans forward to spot Jung Jaehyun on the other side of Doyoung, already throwing on his tweed coat as he sends her his usual gracious, kilowatt smile. She leans back to you and parts her lips to ask why he had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, as well as why you were so casual in leaving with him, but you cut her off. “Don’t worry, Irene. If anything happens, Johnny will beat him up. It’s fine, don’t worry.” 

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Irene is wholly worried, grasping your forearm as she pulls you forward, closer to her, speaking in a hushed tone. “Seokjin and I can drop you off instead.”

“Irene, I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I don’t want to ruin your night, okay?” You let out a sigh, straightening your back again and giving her a radiant smile of deceit to tell her that you will be alright. She lets out a huff of air in defeat, nodding her head. As you pivot on your heel, you keep your head turned towards Irene as you begin to walk towards Jaehyun, hands already buried in the pockets of his coat. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Of course.” Irene says with a tight lip. Your eyes flash towards Doyoung, who watches you with eyes filled with an emotion you cannot decipher, before you flash him a smile. 

“Doyoung,” you nod your head. “I hope to see you soon, as well.”

“Of course.”

The cool January air obnoxiously hits your exposed legs the moment you step out of the lounge, the VIP parking lot littered with snow as you trail behind Jaehyun’s large form. You hear the jingling of his keys and the tone of his car beeping not too far ahead; he was quiet, and it caused a tension to seduce the air between the two of you. He opens the passenger side of his sleek noir Mercedes to let you climb in before rounding to his side, slamming his door closed. The purr of the engine is smooth as it glides down the city streets, flashes of flight originating from the tall buildings above decorating the skin of your thighs. A few moments later, you’re the first to part your lips. 

“Jaehyun,“ you start, voice calm, but your intentions are clear; teasing lightly laces your words.. “Is something the matter?”

He takes a few seconds to answer, you see his jaw clenching before he opens his mouth. “No,” he simply says. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you can’t bear to keep the growing smirk off your lips. You play with the hem of your Marchesa dress, the tulle thin between your thumb and forefinger. “It just seems as if you’re… angry. A little tense.” 

“I’m not,” Jaehyun’s voice is calm, harmonized by the low purr of his engine. “Just a little confused as to why you seem so interested in Kim Doyoung.” 

You quirk your eyebrow as you listen to his tensed words, as if he were keeping himself contained within his body. You let out a scoff. “I’m not interested in him,” you trail off, watching the city pass you by as Jaehyun begins to near your estate’s territory. “I’m just… a little curious.”

“I can promise you, (Y/N),” he mutters. “There is nothing about that man you should be curious about.”

“Really?” you challenge him, turning to look at him again. The lamp posts that litter the streets highlight his facial structures in a way you have never seen - sleek cheeks cut from his high cheekbones, warm brown eyes cast shades darker; you never really noticed how long his eyelashes are, kissing his under eyes. “The way you jumped to steal me from him leads me to believe that there is.”

You watch as his lips slowly curl into a wry smirk, letting out a huff of air as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Are you presuming that I’m jealous, darling?” he lets out a chuckle, eyes turning into crescents but his tone is sinister. You press your thighs together. “Is that why you were suddenly so pursuant in flirting with him in front of me? You want to make me jealous? Because I saw you moments before I arrived and you were merely chatting with him like a normal friend - it wasn’t until I sat on that stool when you began to feel his arms through his blazer.”

An amused smile plays on your lips as you look back out the windshield window, seeing that he has arrived to your gates. The guard that mans the metal doorways only wakes up from his slumber to press the button that opens it, Jaehyun slowly driving his Mercedes through your gateway. 

“The fact alone that you had been watching me and analyzing the touches I gave him says a lot, Jung Jaehyun,” you say in a hushed voice as he pulls up at the front of your house. The lights of your home were all turned off, signifying that your mother isn’t home, and neither are any of the maids - it is a Saturday after all. You turn to him, a teasing smile on your face, seeing that he had already been gazing at you. “But if you’re not jealous, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let him fuck me until I can’t walk.”

When Jaehyun’s lips mesh into yours in a flurry of desperation, the words that you had let fall past your lips fly out the window, his hands on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer towards him over his console. He unbuckles his seat belt before he turns his entire body to you, lips parting as his tongue enters your mouth; you let out a moan as he does, combing your fingers through his ash brown locks. 

“Not here,” you whisper, pulling away, his eyes opening before he looks at you in worry. “I want you to fuck me in my bed.”

The seconds it took for you and Jaehyun to climb out of his car, walk up your marble stairs, fish for your keys inside your purse blindly as the two of you continued to kiss each other before finally unlocking the door proves worth it as the rashness of his actions heightened the moment you shut the door behind you; he presses you against the whitewood and attaches his lips to yours again, hands set on your hips as you ring yours around the back of his neck. He smells of saffron and jasmin, slightly quiet moans escaping from his throat. 

“Fuck,” he says, playing with the hem of your dress, trying to pull it down your body but the handmade strains deem too sturdy. “Get this shit off.” 

“It’s Marchesa.” you pout, his eyes lingering on your lips, plump from kissing his own. 

“I don’t give a shit what it is or isn’t,” Jaehyun grunts. “I want it off of you. Now.” 

You heed to his word, reaching for the zipper on the side of your waist as you connect your lips to his again, the neckline of your dress relaxes, and as his tongue dances with yours, he slowly begins to slide your dress down your form. He pulls away to look at your figure, wearing only a lace black bra with matching panties, and he lets out a grunt. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, hands travelling up your body to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. His lips are close to your ear before he begins to kiss spots on your neck, tongue moving languishly against your skin. “God, I can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

His words cause you to suck in a breath as you tighten your thighs together, and he seems to notice, a deep chuckle forming from his throat. You lean your head to the side to allow him more space to your neck, your hands travelling from his broad back to the front of his chest, trailing down towards his jeans. When you feel how stiff he is through the denim material of his pants, you pull away from him. He looks at you with wonder, your hooded eyes and smirk ringing clear to him as you slowly begin to push him towards your staircase, having him sit down on one of the carpeted steps while your knees touch the cool marble flooring of your entrance hallway. 

“You said it yourself, I owe you, don’t I?” you whisper as you unbuckle his belt. He watches you as you do, enchanted with the way your fingers moved to free his cock from their strain. When you finally release his stiff shaft from his underneath his boxers, you practically salivate at the sight - he was long and thick, the tip of his head pink in desperation. When your lips wrapped around his cock, he sinks his upper teeth into his bottom lip to keep a moan from escaping his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as your tongue slicks around his throbbing tip. 

You keep your eyes trained on his face, taking in every sinful expression that makes way on his angelic features; it should be a sin to look as angelic as he is but have the most sinful sounds fall past his lips - but the thought excited you. Ever since you had first seen him, Jung Jaehyun had looked like nothing else but like an art piece from the Romantic era had come to life ; with his gentle yet captivating umber eyes, to the way his lips curl as if he was always hiding a secret - to see him in such a filthy, obscene circumstances caused you to yearn for more. Even as you begin pumping your mouth around his cock, you yearned for more; for him to bury himself deeper into your throat. 

“Fuck! Yes! Yes, fuck, that’s it, take my cock into your pretty little mouth,” Jaehyun grunts, raking his fingers through your hair to form a makeshift ponytail, holding your head steady against his crotch. He begins to slowly rock his hips up and down, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, lewd noises emitting from the back of your throat; you look up at him through your eyelashes with pleading eyes. He fucks into your mouth slowly, making sure he doesn’t hurt you, but deeply, hissing at the feeling of your throat spasming every time the tip of his cock grazes against it. 

“That’s it, darling, fuck, your throat feels so good.” he grunts as he does one long thrust, feeling your mouth around the entirety of his cock, burying it deep in your throat for a few seconds. As he keeps it there, relishing in the spasming of your tongue and the swishing of your saliva, your gag reflex threatens you, and you clutch at the flesh of his thighs for support, screwing your eyes shut. He slides out, strings of saliva connecting your plump lips to the base of his cock as you cough out in strained breaths; your eye makeup has already began to run down your face. “Such a good girl aren’t you, letting me fuck your mouth?”

Your eyes are trained on his when he stands up from his seated position, keeping your position kneeled down on the marble floors; biting your lips stained with saliva and lingering droplets of Jaehyun’s pre-cum, you nod meekly which causes a smirk to spread on Jaehyun’s lips. Your eyes trail down to his cock again, wanting it back in your system, but he seemed to have other plans as he hauls you to stand up by your hair. His other free hand makes its way to your clothed pussy, pressing against the moistened fabric, taking in the way your eyebrows furrow in hunger. 

“Look at you, such an eager whore,” He chuckles, hot breath pressing against your ear as his middle finger slides against the thin fabric pressed against your sopping heat. Your hips buck against the teasing single digit, and he lets out an amused laugh at your desperation. “All this just from my fingers? All this because I fucked your throat? Who made you this wet, darling?” 

You only focus on his finger sliding against your clothed folds, your eyes hooded as you clutch your hand against Jaehyun’s forearm. It’s when he tugs on your scalp again, forcing you to look into his eyes, when you realized he had asked you a question, dark eyes burning into yours. You open your mouth, breath shaking at the little contact. “You did, Jaehyun.” 

“Shit,” he grunts. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs, left, very last door.”

He wastes no time in sweeping you off your feet, letting out a light gasp as he effortlessly carries you up the stairs, following the directions that you had given him, your legs dangling while you wrap your hands around his neck, lips attaching to his skin. He kicks your bedroom door open, and throws you on top of your blankets. When your back hits against your familiar plush mattress, you spend no time in recognizing the comfort you had grown up in as Jaehyun quickly pulls your panties down your legs, getting onto his knees on your carpeted floors. 

The moment you feel his warm tongue glide through your wet folds, you gasp out his name, throwing your head back at the unfamiliar sensation. Your toes curl as Jaehyun’s tongue circles around your clit, nub sensitive causing you to buck your hips forward; your fingers make their way into his hair, grabbing at his ash blonde locks to bring him closer. Your ex-boyfriend, Mingyu, had never given you this type of pleasure before, your few times together only ever resulting in a quick blowjob and dull sex that would only last for a few minutes - you have never been on the receiving side of oral, nor have you ever felt your body ache with pleasure at the most bare minimum things. Every touch Jaehyun puts on your skin spreads through your body like fire, and you want it more and more.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet,” Jaehyun peppers the inside of your thigh with memoirs of his lips in the form of deep red bruises, the tip of his middle finger slowly tracing over your slit, coating his digit with your juices and of his saliva. You shudder at the familiarity of his fingers against sliding through your folds, having yearned for them inside of you again since your own couldn’t reach as far as he could - and when he eagerly slipped two fingers inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. He grins as he hears the sinful sound. “Jesus, so fucking tight.”

He leans forward once more, reattaching his lips to your pussy, his tongue sliding against your clit in circular motions while begins to move the digits in and out of your slit, already having found a certain spot that led you whimpering his name. “J-Jaehyun,” you breathe out in short gasps, furrowing your eyebrows together as the sensation of his long fingers spreading you out racks your mind. “Fuck, Jaehyun, right there.”

He continues to fuck you with his fingers, tongue flashing past your clit in lewd motions - his hand travels up your body, goosebumps adorning your skin with each touch before he pulls down your lace bra, your nipples hardened against the cool air. He rolls your nub with his free hand, eyes trained on your face and taking in your expressions as the pleasure overtakes your body. He continues to graze the pads of his fingers against your spot, and your back arches off your mattress, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Are you gonna cum, darling?” he pulls his mouth away from your pussy, but his fingers continue to fuck into you. He looks up at you with taunting eyes and the sight only brings you to the edge further. The sight is enough to take you over the edge, the pads of his fingers grazing over your spot just one last time before your orgasm rakes through your body, your hips bucking against his still moving fingers - you mewl at his presence in your sensitive core. “That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that.” 

Your breathing is faltering, but Jaehyun wastes no time before he kneels onto your bed, the mattress dipping as you attempt to catch your breath. He peers down at you with a soft smile on his face, juxtaposing the lingering remnants of your juices and his saliva that frames his plumped lips. You only find peace for a fleeting moment at his tranquil expression before you feel his throbbing tip slide against your slit, the expression on Jaehyun’s face transforming into a teasing one. 

“Look at you, you’re a mess,” he taunts you, sliding his tip against your pussy, coating his head in your juices. You shudder at how close he is to finally plunging deep inside of you, but still being so far away. You whimper as he continues to do it, and although you’ve already had your orgasm, the aching need that had occupied the pit of your stomach since you had left your first encounter forming in your stomach again. “Jesus Christ, what will become of you once I give you my cock?”

“Fucking hell, Jung Jaehyun, just fuck me already.” you let out a frustrated whimper, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer, his body falling on top of yours as your lips move against his. He chuckles against them, before he positions himself against your slit, slowly pushing in. You pull away from his lips when he enters you, a gasp falling from your slacked jaw as he stretches you open.

“Jesus fuck, (Y/N), you’re so fucking tight!” he grunts when the base of his cock hits the mound of your pussy. You can do all but speak, eyes screwed shut as you clutch onto his forearms on either side of you. You’ve observed that he’s large before, but he stretches you out so well - he slowly begins to move his hips, and the slight pain begins to subside, transforming into pleasure. As you relax your body, you let out short gasps every time he thrusts back into you again. “Shit, you feel so good around me.”

You hear Jaehyun’s baritone voice, but it seems as if it’s located a million miles away, you floating bliss as you relish in the sensation of his cock sliding against your walls repeatedly. Each time he thrusts all the way back before slams inside of you again, you let out sharp gasps; his cock reaches into your core even further than his fingers already had, and it feels so, so good. 

“Look at you,” Jaehyun breathes as he picks up the pace of his hips, rutting into you at a faster speed, his arms pinned on either side of you. Your hair, usually styled and perfectly placed around your face, is splayed out in messy fashion against your cream sheets; your face is flushed with excitement and lust, jaw slack as profane noises fall past your mouth and into the hot air between both of your bodies; your eyes, usually so focused and attentive, are glossed over with desire, hooded as your tits bounce with each thrust Jaehyun drives into you. “So fucked out already. Doyoung could never fuck you this good, right, darling?”

“J-Jaehyun.” is all you are able to whine as he continues to fuck into you, hard and deep; the sounds of skin slapping against skin harmonized with the sound of the both of you breathing heavily is what occupies the space between the two of you. He pulls your hips higher, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to fuck you even deeper - the sensation of the tip of his cock grazing against you sensitive spot causes your nails to sink into the skin of his forearms. 

“Tell me again, darling,” ask Jaehyun, his hand moving towards your throat and gently wrapping his fingers around your neck. As he continues to drive his cock into your tight pussy, his voice comes out in strained grunts. “What did you want Doyoung to do to you?”

“F-Fuck,” you could barely form a word, each thrust he gives you causes all your thoughts to melt into obscurity, sentences jumbled into whines and moans. His clutch on your throat tightens and you’re almost sure your eyes are about to roll to the back of your head in pure bliss. 

“I asked you a question,” he growls, slamming into you again and again. “I expect you to fucking answer me.”

“I-I wanted him to,” You manage to squeak out a few words. “Fuck m-me until I c-couldn’t walk.” 

“And tell me, darling, who’s the only one who can do that?” he ruts his hips even faster than before, your bed squeaking as your mattress moves with every push he makes into your pussy. At this new angle, his the tip of his cock hits your spot perfectly, over and over again, a sensation that induces you to scream his name as you arch your back off the bed. 

“Jaehyun! Fuck!” you yell, hearing your voice echo against the walls of your bedroom - he doesn’t stop though - as you scream his name, laced with foul words, repeatedly, his cock continues to drive deep inside of your pussy, making sure he leaves a mark inside of you that only he can give.

“Fucking tell me,” he pulls his hand away from your throat to grab onto your face, forcing you to look at him. Tears of pleasure have began to spring against your waterline, falling past your lower eyelids and staining your bedsheets; your face is streamed with marks of your mascara and eyeliner, your lips plump from biting into them to refrain yourself from screaming his name. “Tell me, (Y/N), who’s the only one who can fuck you? Who does your tight fucking cunt belong to?”

“Y-You-” you whimper out in a quiet voice only to scream again when Jaehyun moves your hips higher, his cock driving into your deeper and harder than before. His grip on your waist is tight as he moves his hips; you’re sure to have bruises the next morning but all you could focus on at that moment is your nearing second orgasm. “Fuck, Jaehyun! You! It’s yours! Only you can fuck me, shit!”

“That’s right,” he leans back, yet another angle racking over your body, his throbbing tip hitting your sensitive core rhythmically. Sweat begins to drip from his forehead, his face glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom - even now, even through the indecent circumstances the two of you were in, he is beautiful. “Your pretty little cunt is mine, only mine.”

 “Y-Yes, Jaehyun, it’s yours,” you whimper, clutching at your bed sheets. What had started as a lonely night had quickly become one filled with the sound of slapping skin and a creaking bed, Jaehyun’s deep grunts music to your ears as you feel your walls spasm around his cock. A knot had formed in the pit of your stomach again, a sense that only Jaehyun had ever given you, and you feel your mind haze over. “J-Jaehyun, fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me baby,” Jaehyun whispers, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head as the feeling rakes your body, sending goosebumps over your skin - you hear Jaehyun’s moans becoming louder as you cum but they are muffled with the stir of your pleasure, seeing stars in the darkness behind your eyelids. Your body goes numb, core sensitive, but Jaehyun continues to fuck into you through your orgasm. “Fuck, baby, are you on the pill? I need to cum inside you.” 

You only simply whisper out a yes, voice shaking and broken from the screaming you had done all night, still caught in a daze from your orgasm, before feeling Jaehyun’s hips falter as he lets out a low groan. His thrusting slows and his jaw becomes slack, eyes directed downwards, at his cock connected to your pussy, ash blonde hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks flushed with both lust and exhaustion. He fills you up with his cum with shaking breaths, it is when he pulls out when you feel the warm liquid slip out of you. 

He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you again, lips molding together as if they were meant to be pressed against each other - his hands, now gentle, caressing your hair and your hands cupping his face. The two of you have left memoirs of each other on the other’s body, and although you aren’t sure what the two of you quite are, the tranquility that fills the air when you look into his eyes after he pulls away from your lips, a gentle smile making its way onto his face before he pulls himself beside you against the plush pillows if your bed, only brings you an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

That night, when you fell asleep in Jaehyun’s warm embrace, as his heaving breaths slowly transition into a soft, rhythmic snoring, you are happy.

-----

Jung Jaehyun, to put it simply, is like a drug to you. If his presence is elsewhere, your body aches for him, almost begging for company even without your knowledge, and he knows it. The haughty smirk that you had grown used to ever since the first time your eyes laid on him had grown wider now, even more when his name is all you’re able to say whenever he drives his cock into your core. You’re selfish; almost every single night is a night spent with him, with your bodies pressed together in a dance between the sheets of your bed, or his bed, or whatever environment the two of you occupy. 

There was one time, only a day after the first time he had fucked you, when he had picked you up from your home - your mother believed that you were leaving for Irene’s house to pay her a visit, but she was awfully incorrect. You and Jaehyun never made it to where he was planning to take you, having parked deep in a bundle of trees, somewhere far where no one could find the both of you, before fucking you in the backseat of his noir Mercedes. His windows were tinted and the steam that had accumulated on the glass would prove it difficult to look through if anyone were able to find his parked car, but the rocking motion of his automobile probably would have proved your theory wrong.

There was another time, a week after the first time he had fucked you, when you visited the Jung & Associates tower deep in the heart of the city during the evening, when almost all of their employees had left. That night, he bent you over his mahogany desk and drilled into you ruthlessly, his necktie disposed of, wrapping it around your neck to keep you on your knees on top of the table, your soaked panties shoved into your mouth to muffle your whines and screams in case a few employees loitered around the office on the other side of Jaehyun’s door. 

And another time, your favourite time, when you had a flight to Los Angeles to oversee a branch of Decoré’s boutiques and their dodgy revenue, when a knock reverberated on the door to your penthouse, and upon opening it, you were greeted with the familiarity of Jaehyun’s lips on yours. He promised to fuck you on every surface, eager to see you coming undone on top of each piece of furniture laid out in your penthouse. You could barely remember that night; having had innumerable orgasms, each memory is a blur of lust and pleasure - but you can recall being pressed against the panoramic window that blessed you the view of all of Hollywood as he fucked into you from behind, deep voice reminding you of your blasphemy while people went on about their day below the two of you.

Your life is filled with responsibilities and expectations - you are expected to have a beautiful posture, a graceful expression, careful movements, and wise words; never to have a cuss word fall past your lips, never to have a revolted expression grace on your face. If you were to make one wrong move, the future of Decoré may be in peril - but with Jaehyun, as obscene as your actions with him are, you feel as if you are truly yourself. With his throbbing cock pumping in and out of your core, all your thoughts of maintaining your prim and proper reputation are pushed out of your mind, instead focused on raking your fingernails down the skin of his back.

Today, your hands are occupied with tugging on your Hermés scarf that you had wrapped around your neck, concentrated on cloaking the marks forged on the skin of your neck that Jaehyun had left with his lips the night prior. Today, there was yet another gala that you were invited to, some politician that your mother is acquainted with. To be excited is nothing close to how you really feel, knowing of the dull and tediousness that the rest of the night will consist of - you’re only thankful that your stylists didn’t force you into a corset again. You aren’t even sure why you had to attend, having no connection to the point of the gala except for your mother - you would much rather be at home, perhaps reading a book, watching a movie, telling Irene to accompany you, or perhaps texting Jaehyun to come over once again.

Your prediction for the night proves correct when you find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the venue, against the royal blue crushed velvet chairs as you stare into the liquid of your wine glass. You are adorned in a pure white dress by Elie Saab, and you were far too afraid to drop any of the desserts on it in fear of a stain, so you settle for just a simple drink instead. Tchaikovsky drones from the weary looking orchestra at the top of the stairwell, and you’re almost sure you’ve memorized each flat or sharp were located in the flurry of notes. Your mother, the social bird, is off conversing with other people that she’d acquainted herself with, a large, yet fake, smile on her face - it seemed as if no one your age was present, so you were grateful at the fact that her matchmaking business for you will be closed for the night.

You let out a sigh as the night drones on, the conclusion for the evening seemingly never arriving. You are unsure as to how the people around you seem to be enjoying themselves - Do people enjoy boring things as they grow older?you think, but you would never say it out loud. 

“I like your scarf.” 

The tone of voice automatically causes you to sit up straight, turning your head towards the direction it originated from. The man in question pulls up a seat next to you, a kind smile on his lips before sitting down on the crushed velvet padded seat. You quirk your eyebrow in surprise at his presence - you’d assume that he’d be someplace else, enjoying his night, but as you thought more about it, the environment fit his field of expertise.

“Thank you - it was a last minute choice, considering the circumstances.” you quip, setting down your glass of wine to tug at the scarf wrapped around your neck, careful to not expose the hickeys that dance against your skin. You’re unsure on how to act around him in public, you’re so used to letting your desires with him known that acting in your usual grace is unnatural for you. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually,” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side as he smiles, a dimple forming in his cheek, quirking his eyebrow as he lifts his champagne glass to his lips to take a sip. “I have a reason to be here, darling; the man who constructed this gala is a client of Jung & Associates. I should be the one asking you that.”

“Really?” you ponder on his sentence for a few seconds as you twirl the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. “Hm, first time I’ve heard of someone’s lawyers attending an event that their client hosts.” 

“Well, he’s a very corrupt man,” Jaehyun says, turning his gaze towards you. Even just his stare causes you to feel a lustful desire - you cannot comprehend how much power he has over you. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s evidently guilty in a case of embezzling money and drugs underneath the guise of his campaign.” 

Your eyebrows slightly raise in shock, gasping lightly. “Oh my gosh, really?” you ask, before furrowing your eyebrows in wonder. “Why have you accepted him as a client knowing that he’s guilty?” 

“I was not the one who accepted him, darling,” he says, resting his cheek against his fist. His stance is relaxed, but his tone of voice seems to hold weight that you cannot pinpoint. “My father did - they were college buddies back in the day. Plus, you know what our kind desires - we all just want money, right?”

Your eyes slowly trail from his eyes to your drink, pondering on his words. “I guess you’re right.”

“Speaking of my father,” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed now, and uncharacteristically panicked. “Here he comes. Try to act casual, can you do that for me?”

“Of course.” you whisper back, getting ready to put your front on again, lifting your gaze just in time to spot the tall, broad-shouldered man walking towards your table. It’s a little jarring, really, seeing Jaehyun’s father for the first time; it’s as if Jaehyun had aged several years and had gone bald - the image in your head causes the corner of your lips to quiver humorously but you contain your laughter.

“Jaehyun, I’ve been looking for you since we entered this gala, there are people who would like to congratulate you.” his father’s voice is gruff, evident of experienced smoking. He barely pays attention to your presence, his eyes set on Jaehyun only, and the man beside you, whose gait is always dripping with confidence, seems to wane. You gulp as you look between Jaehyun and his father, the tension in the air appearing seemingly out of nowhere - bad tension.  

“I’m talking with a friend, father.” Jaehyun’s voice, all the stern that you have grown used to since hearing it for the first time, is softer. His father finally tears his glare at his son, his pupils snapping towards you, and suddenly, you understand why Jaehyun was acting menial. His father squints his eyes at you, observing you with scrutiny, and you let out a shaky breath before parting your lip.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” you outstretch your hand over the table for him to shake, and the older man simply glances at it before setting his eyes on your face again. Your front almost falters, your hand retreating back into your lap as you burn with humility. 

“Who are you?” he asks you, voice imperious. 

“She’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” Jaehyun answers for you. His tone of voice recovered slight dominance but his stance stays humble beside yours. “I’ve told you about her, remember?” 

“Oh yes,” Mr. Jung answers, jaw square as he peers down at you, familiarity in his eyes. “That fashion brand. How is that going?”

You’re confused at his question, having never met him in the past, but you answer anyway. “It’s going alright, thank you.” 

He nods once, finally tearing his weightful glare from you and returning back to his son. “Come now, Jaehyun,” he says, turning his body as a way to signal his leaving, waiting for Jaehyun to follow him. “There are people I’d like you to meet before your birthday next week.” 

You turn your head to Jaehyun in surprise. “It’s your birthday next week?” 

Jaehyun slowly stands from his chair, eyes slightly irate and training on his father, but his voice is gentle when he answers you. “Yes, on Valentines day.” He finally looks towards you, gaze softening when they land on your features, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion - why is he acting like that? “I have to go now, (Y/N). I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” 

“Of course.” you nod once, lips pressed tightly together as you watch Jaehyun’s form walk towards his father around the table. He gives you one last glance, a look that you cannot decipher, once again, appearing in his irises, before he turns his entire body from you, leaving you to sit alone.

As you watch his retreating form, you think of the newfound information that you had uncovered about Jung Jaehyun, of his birthday, and you realize that, although you know of Jung Jaehyun, that you know of the rumours surrounding him, and know of his body and what he’s capable of from the nights you’ve spent with him for the past month, you don’t sincerely, truly, know him.

-----

Jung Jaehyun does not talk to you soon; after the gala reached its conclusion, your phone remained silent for the following week, aside from Irene’s text messages as well as your mother’s phone calls to ask you how the house is going while she’s on a brief New York visit to oversee one of Decoré’s branches. Even Johnny, who would usually spam your notifications with the latest of internet memes, has been silent. For the following week, you wake up every morning to see if Jaehyun had contacted you, met with disappointment when you’re unable to find his name in your notifications, and you head to bed every night, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d text you before you fall asleep. You are reluctant on whether you should worry or not - perhaps he’s busy, he is taking the clutches of his company from his father’s grasp, but it’s on his birthday, when you greet him with a text only to be met with a notification that he’s read your message, when dread begins to pool your stomach.

“Is there something the matter?” 

Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze while you stare at the screen of your phone. It brings you a case of déja vu for only a second before you finally look up at her, a strained smile on your face. 

“Hm? No, nothing’s the matter,” you act nonchalant, setting your phone back down in your lap as you cross your legs over each other. The two of you are seated in your bedroom, Irene splayed out on your bed as she hugs one of your pillows, and you at the stool of your vanity. “I’m fine, Irene. Why?” 

“(Y/N),” Irene sighs as she sits up, putting the pillow she had been cuddling down against your plush mattress. “You’ve been acting different since your visit to Milan.” 

“Have I?” you continue your front. It’s disgusting how easy you lie to her. “I feel fine, though.” 

“Look, (Y/N),” Irene lets out a sigh, and you inwardly cringe - you know that she isn’t buying your words. “It’s fine that you don’t want to tell me, I don’t wanna pester it out of you because it’s your business. However, just know, no matter what it is, I’m here to talk to you, okay? If you told me you killed a man in Milan, I will back you up. I’m basically your sister, I’m here for you always. Please remember that.”

Her words eat at you with guilt, and you tear your eyes away from her, suddenly finding solace in your hands folded in your lap. “I know, Irene,” you whisper, voice shaking. “When the time comes, I’ll tell you. I promise.” 

“Okay, now put your phone down,” Irene hops off the bed, a grin on her face. “It’s Valentine's day; you’re single, and my fiancé is in New York. Let’s go eat ice cream and watch romance movies.” 

The rest of the night is spent lounging on the large couch in your sitting room with your best friend, nostalgic scenes of love confessions and innocent touches playing on the screen of your large television. Your mouths were filled with spoonfuls of ice cream, giggling and squealing at the scenes, as if both of you hadn’t already memorized every line from watching it repeatedly since your early teens. When the main character finally melts into the kiss of their love interest, Irene grabs the cushion next to her and doesn’t hesitate to hit you in the shoulder with it, whining at how romantic the setting was, and you giggle loudly as your spoon falls from your bucket of ice cream onto the floor, the metal clanging against the marble tiles. For a few moments, you forget about your lingering thoughts, phone abandoned in your room upstairs, sitting on the cold wood of your vanity’s table.

“Oh gosh,” Irene jumps to her feet when she looks out the window after the two of you finish your third movie. The rain pangs against your window pane harshly, coating the glass in thick rainwater. “It’s raining so hard, I should call my chauffeur.” 

“Just stay over,” you tell her, still seated on the couch. Your home is like her second home, and her home was your second home; the two of you grew up surrounded by each other’s childhood, so her sleeping over isn’t anything new. “You can call in your chauffeur tomorrow, it’s raining really hard.”

She lets out a sigh. “I know, but I have to get up super early tomorrow in time for my bridesmaid’s gown fittings,” she takes a hand through her hair as she fishes for her phone in her pocket, hitting the contact for her chauffeur on her screen. She holds it to her ear, and apologetically, asks for them to pick her up from your home. After apologizing profusely and thanking them through her phone, she ends the call and lets out another sigh, grabbing her coat that she had splayed over the arm of your couch. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” 

You frown, but nod, standing up as you grab the empty buckets of ice cream on the coffee table and push your feet into your slippers. You head to the kitchen to dispose of the garbage and to wash the two spoons before putting them in the rack to dry. Your maids weren’t home, as it is a Saturday once again - you favoured cleaning your home though - although it was rather large, you find it relaxing. As the few minutes pass by, Irene’s ride has arrived at the front of your doors; she gives you a warm embrace before she takes her leave.

“Remember what I said, okay?” she reminds you of her words in your bedroom, to trust her with anything, and you nod once.

“Of course,” you tell her. “Have a safe drive home, alright?” 

When you close your door, you let out another sigh as the silence of your home overtakes your presence. The juxtaposition of the hustle and bustle of the nearby city, hearing honks of cars in the distance, is ironic to you as you head back to your kitchen; you felt as if you were isolated from the outside world. Having grown sheltered, with only a few close friends in order to protect your reputation, you’ve naturally become a homebody - when you’re not travelling for your own interests or for affairs pertaining to your job, you’re almost always found at home, sitting in silence. 

You sigh as you take out a nearly empty bottle of domaine de la romanée-cont from one of the cupboards in your kitchen, pouring just a little into a glass that you’ve found in another cupboard. Your mind flashes back to Jung Jaehyun once again, wondering if he’s enjoying his birthday, if he’s enjoying his Valentine’s day, pondering on why he hasn’t contacted you since you last met. You think, perhaps Irene’s words at the beginning were correct - he’s had his fun with you, and now he’s left you to pick up what he’s left behind; you quickly push the subject from your mind. After downing a sip of your wine, you dispose the glass into the sink, not bothering to wash it, opting to do it tomorrow, your mind occupied with getting ready for bed. Just as you turn into your entrance hallway to walk up the stairs towards your room, your doorbell rings. You let out a hum - Irene must have forgotten an item of hers before leaving. Your fuzzy slippers swish against the floor as you walk towards the white door, unlocking the latch before pulling the heavy door open. You part your lips to greet Irene, but what comes falling past your lips is a gasp instead, the sight of Jaehyun standing on your porch a shock to you.

His ash blonde hair is doused with rain water, droplets falling from the wet strands and kissing his shoulders, adorned in Saint Laurent that clings to his skin tautly. He’s panting, as if he had ran all the way to your house, and at the sight of his chest rising and falling rapidly, you believe that that’s exactly what he did. He steps into your home, his frigid, wet hands automatically cupping your face before he pulls you towards him, your lips crashing into his cold ones in desperation and ache. For only a fleeting moment, you melt into his kiss, but quickly regain your composure, pulling away from him. 

“What are you doing here?” you question him, pushing his wet hair away from his face. You look into his eyes, they seem red and swollen - like he’s been crying. 

“I came to see you.” he answers you, voice aberrantly frail - his breath is shaking with each inhale and exhale he takes. “I missed you.” 

“Jaehyun, what’s wrong?” you whisper, wondering why he’s acting this way - it’s his birthday, he should be happy, yet he seems so desolate, so crushed. “Have you been crying?” 

“Darling, please,” his voice is hushed, cold hands still cupping your cheeks as he searches your eyes. “I… I can’t tell you yet.” 

“Why?” you urge him on, desperate to know more about what he’s feeling, about what he’s thinking.

“I… I just can’t,” for the first time, he’s unable to come up with an answer to your questions - the doom in your stomach pools even deeper, but you hold onto the last lingering hope that burns in your heart. “Please, I just need you. I need you right now. I need you badly.”

It’s humiliating how simple words that slip past his lips could cause you to obey so quickly, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he closes the door behind him. Your lips crash against each other in a flurry of teeth and tongue while he grabs your ass, urging you to jump, before wrapping your legs around him. In haste, he carries you up the stairs, memorizing where to go after having been in your home several times in the same circumstances, before throwing you onto your bed. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, kissing down your neck while he undoes the lace that ties your silk robe adorning your body. He unclasps your bra quickly, and you let out a sigh when he uncovers your chest, his tongue kissing the valley between your breasts before slowly enveloping his tongue around one of your nipples. “So fucking beautiful, so fucking innocent, so fucking good to me.”

You run your fingers through his drenched locks, brushing them back away from his face as his tongue flicks over your sensitive nipple repeatedly, his other hand doing the same to the other one, rolling the nub with the pad of his thumb. The sight in front of you, Jaehyun’s dark eyes boring into yours while his lips are occupied with your breasts, is breathtaking; your thighs press together intuitively, but once his free hand lets go of your breast, he gently pushes them apart. 

“Jaehyun.” you whisper when you feel his hand slip past the waistband of your shorts and panties, middle finger toying with your clit. He continues to lap at your nipple in circular motions, the sensation of his touch against your nubs causing you to breathe heavily. Slick with your juices, he dips a finger into you, watching your face when his middle finger penetrates you core. You let out a whine, an aching desire for his girth not met by his single finger, but it grazes against your spot which causes your whine to break into a whimper.

“So sensitive, always so fucking tight,” he pulls away from your breast, taking off his drenched shirt before kneeling lower to position his face in front of your sopping heat, slowly beginning to pull your shorts and panties down. In just a few minutes, you had already become drenched with lust underneath Jaehyun’s touch, heat rising in your cheeks when you feel his lips peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs. “I’ll take care of you tonight, darling.”

You still haven’t grown used to the pleasurable sensation of his tongue against your folds, finding yourself gasping in shock every time you feel him lick a strip against your opening. Your hands automatically find their way enlaced in his wet locks, bucking your hips against his face when his tongue grazes your clit. He pushes your legs further apart, lewd noises emitting from his mouth and your sopping core, hushed by the heavy rain hammering against the walls of your home. 

“Jae!” you let out a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue dip inside you, your fist clenching his hair to bring him closer as a low chuckle emits from his throat. Usually, he’d pull away and taunt you for being so eager, and continue to tease you by barely paying attention to the spot you needed him the most, but tonight, he continues to fuck his tongue into you, grip on your thighs to spread your legs apart burning. “Shit, that feels so fucking good!”

He replaces his warm tongue with two of his fingers, coated in a thin sheen of saliva before he pushes into you, tongue lapping at your clit. He knows your body so well, he knows what to do to push you over the edge and now, in just a few minutes, he’s already got you on the brink of your first orgasm. 

“Jaehyun, fuck!” you scream as he rapidly fucks his fingers into you, tongue violent against your clit. You spasm around his fingers, tugging at his scalp as your hips begin to tremble. He continues to fuck you, eyes casted downwards towards your fucked cunt, focused on bringing you over the edge. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a quick speed, his digits disappearing inside of you one last time before you scream once more. “Shit, I’m cumming!”

He slows his fingers down as you come apart around his digits, finger fucking you through your orgasm. As you let out one last sigh, he pulls his fingers out, wet with your lust, before climbing back up to your face to kiss you, lips wet with saliva and your juices. He moans into the kiss, hands needy as they knead your breasts, his tongue entering your mouth hotly. You flip your bodies over, you on top of him now, his hands moving down your waist to cup your ass. 

You lean back and he watches you with adoration - your heart flips in your chest for only a moment before lust fills your mind again when you feel his stiff cock against your thigh through his jeans. You move down, your turn to kneel on the floor in front of him as you begin to undo his pants. He watches you with his teeth buried in his bottom teeth, brushing your hair away from your face as you pull his cock from his boxers. You let out a breathy giggle at how pink his throbbing tip is before circling your tongue around it, earning a hiss from him before you fully engorge it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, yes,” he grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better view of you wrapping your lips around his cock, raking his hands through your hair. “Yes, just like that, suck my cock just like that.”

He goes crazy at the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the sight is enough to nearly push him over the edge - your innocent eyes, your hands that clutch at his every time you pump your mouth into him deeper, the way your eyebrows furrow when you gag on his tip. “So beautiful,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek, a sweet act that juxtaposes the situation. “Just like that, your pretty mouth takes my cock so well.”

You continue to suck his cock, your hands pumping the parts you aren’t able to reach - you can almost feel how desperate he is every time his tip hits the back of your throat, the throbbing clear. You weren’t used to Jaehyun being needy like this, being so gentle, taking his time - but the thought made you excited. 

“Shit,” he grunts when you pull away from his cock with a pop, moving your head lower to pay attention to his balls before licking a strip up his shaft. Just as you are about to wrap your lips around his cock again, he sits up, cupping your face. “Fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that.”

His lips find yours once again and this time, he’s the one to flip the both of you over. He rids of his jeans that had pooled around his ankles before he climbs into your bed, hovering above you as you spread your legs open, aching for him to finally be inside of you. You had waited for him for a week, you yearned for his presence all those days - and now you were finally being filled by the man you wished for. 

He slides his cock deep inside of your cunt before he begins to move his hips slowly, leaning forward to attach his lips to yours. You could never get enough of his cock, it was as if he was made to fit inside you just right, his tip grazing against your g-spot repeatedly as his tongue dances with yours. You moan into each other’s mouths, your bedroom filled with obscene sounds of saliva and skin slapping against skin. 

“Mine,” he whispers against your neck when he pulls away, hips gently rocking against yours. His cock hits you in just the right places, whines emitting from your lips as he continues to speak. “I want you to be mine.” 

“I am,” you answer, wrapping your legs around his hips in an effort to get him to thrust deeper. He nips at the skin of your neck as he ruts into you. “I’m yours, Jaehyun. I’m all yours.”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, only responding in deep groans, as he leans back to grab your legs, pulling them over his shoulder to find a better angle in fucking you. When he leans back, you’re almost certain you see tears formed in his eyes, but with you hips slightly lifted from your bed, the angle proving perfect as his cock hits your g-spot even more accurately, you find your thoughts slipping out of your mind when your muffled whines to turn into louder mewls. 

“Jaehyun!” you gasp loudly when he begins to pick up the pace, fingers gripping onto the skin of your thighs so hard that you’re sure they’ll leave marks the next day. You feel your walls begin to spasm around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your vision slowly begins to turn into a blur. “Jaehyun, I’m going to cum! Fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet, baby,” he says through strained grunts. “I want to cum together. You’re on the pill right?”

You let out a meek yes as you attempt to hold your orgasm under wraps, finding it hard to do so as the tip of Jaehyun’s cock hits your spot over and over again - your body felt numb and all you wanted to do was to let go, your blurry vision suddenly becoming decorated with stars. “J-Jaehyun, I-I can’t hold it.”

“Yes you can, darling,” he cooed, bringing a hand down to draw circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb. The action has your legs trembling, breath hitching in your throat at the overpowering sensation takes your body. “Hold it for me, you can hold it right? You’re so fucking good to me, that’s why.”

“Jaehyun!” you let out a ripping scream, loud enough to hear it reverberate out your opened bedroom door and down the hallway. Tears begin to form on your waterline at the frustration of your waning orgasm as well as the desperation to let go, letting out a sob as he continues to fuck into you savagely. He drives into your pussy with full force repeatedly, pulling all the way out and snapping back in, and you find it so hard to keep your orgasm under control. “Jaehyun, please!”

“Fuck, baby,” he moans loudly, feeling your walls spasming around him in a frenzy. “Fuck, I love you so fucking much, fuck, cum for me. Cum for me, darling.” 

And you do as he says, finally letting go of your built up orgasm, the sensation ripping through your nerves and causing you to see an entire galaxy behind the darkness of your eyes. The tips of your fingers and toes burnt as if flames kissed them and your body is both sore and numb but with the greatest pleasure. Through the fog, you feel Jaehyun continuing to thrust his cock into you before stalling deep inside your core, spurts of his cum shooting into you and filling you up before he pulls out, streaks of white pouring out after him. 

The both of you come to, panting heavily, before his lips fall onto yours once again, bringing you into a passionate kiss. His lips are familiar to you now, and you cannot even begin to think of a time where they didn’t belong to you. He wraps his arms around you to bring you closer, head resting against your plush pillows before he pulls away. There’s a stray tear that falls from his eye, and you are unsure why it is there.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispers, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, Jung Jaehyun,” you whisper, a smile forming on your face, kissing his forehead. The words feel right when they leave your lips, as if they were meant to be said by you and to be heard by him. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You press your lips against his for the final time that night, the electricity clear through the air when he relaxes into you. He smelled like roses, he felt like warmth, and he moved like honey. When you pull away with a gentle smile formed on your face, your thumb wipes away his stray tear, unknowing of the burning pain that had formed them in the first place. 

——-

Waking up to the absence of Jaehyun’s warmth, the bare sheets holding nothing  but the outline of his form, is nothing new to you to start the day with - often, after your affairs at night, the moment sunlight cracks through the night sky, Jaehyun would rise early to sneak back into his own estate in order to avoid a quarrelsome conversation with his father. Instead of waking up with his arms wrapped around your form and kisses against your forehead, you’d only be met with the kisses of sunlight that slips through your creme curtains grazing against your skin, and although you can’t deny the slight disappointment that brews in your stomach at the sight of his absence, you wholly feel a bit relieved every time you’d come to find a note that he’d left you just before taking his leave. 

Recalling your memories of the night prior isn’t an activity that you’re new to, either; you rejoice in the ghost touches left by their former presence as you reply the scenes of pleasure in your mind - Jaehyun’s lips against yours, tongues dancing together like wild flames, his hips rocking into you and fervent as if he wanted to become one with you. As your memories of the night before come to an end, your heart beat waned slightly upon remembering the way Jaehyun had acted. You recall the sight of tears lining his waterline, eyes red and movement filled with desperation and longing. You had fallen asleep before you were able to ask him about it, and he had left far too quickly for you to ask him after waking up.

When you tossed your legs over the edge of your plush mattress, the pads of your feet meeting the carpeted flooring, you had glanced towards your bedside table to see if Jaehyun had left you a note that morning, excitement bubbling in your stomach; the notes that he’d leave for you to read in the morning would range from the most romantic poetry, nothing but sweet nothings written on the page, to the most obscene, filthy string of words, degrading scenarios that he wishes to act upon the next time he sees you which would usually cause a throb to emit in your core early in the morning. Upon looking at your table that morning, though, your bedside table was empty; nothing but your usual reading lamp and phone resting atop the wood. You had furrowed your brows together in confusion at first before pushing the thought out of your mind, deciding not to ponder too much about it. Instead, you eyed your sleeping phone on the table, the device rousing awake with a text notification that had you reaching for it automatically. You had hoped it were the man in question that had occupied your mind since waking up, but you were met with a mere sigh when you see that it’s just your manager, reminding you of the day’s itinerary. 

Another day, another gala that you had to attend, and although this gala may prove to be important to your rise to the head seat of Decoré, you couldn’t help but feel tired of the constant jubilees you had to go to. Since returning back to Seoul from your short trip to California to overlook your boutique’s Los Angeles branch for your mother, you had delved into the planning and designing of your first few clothing pieces - you were excited, you truly were, since you had notebooks upon notebooks filled with your sketches and ideas for clothing pieces that ranged from gowns to the most simplest scarves. Yet, nervousness and apprehension is what eats at your stomach when you realize that your first ever piece, a gown the tone of lavender made entirely of tulle and lace, strewn with colourful flowers as if the sheer fabric had been dragged through a garden, is making its debut tonight. You were unsure what the event is for, only having heard from your mother that it reigns important for the history of Decoré; you knew what she really meant - it brings the company vast amounts of money. Even now, when you sit in a rounded table in the venue with Irene by your side, who had accompanied you for your own encouragement, you can’t seem to stop your fingers from twirling the glass stem that holds your wine.

“Irene,” you concur to your best friend, gulping down vast amounts the liquor Irene had fished for you. Your other hand was preoccupied from fisting at the Christian Dior dress that adorned your body, the strewn golden pendants that hung against the noir silk digging into the skin of your palms. Irene’s hands find their way to yours, snaking her fingers through yours for comfort as she looks at you worriedly. It isn’t that Irene’s presence doesn’t give you a sense of peace, because she’s been slightly successful at her attempts of giving you comfort since the night had started, but perhaps if your mother was here you’d feel a lot more at ease - but, evidently, the weather in New York seems to disregard your feelings, cancelling your mother’s flight back to Seoul that morning. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Yes you can, (Y/N),” Irene says in a hushed whisper, careful that other patrons that attended the jubilee won’t bear witness to a future chief executive going through a mild breakdown. She rubs the back of your palm with “You’ve dreamt of this all your life, and you worked so hard on creating this dress. Once the dress is revealed, your weariness will go away, I promise.”

You let out a deep breath at her words, genuinely thankful that she’s there by your side to help you. As you gulp, you nod at her. “Okay,” you huff. “You’re right… you’re right. I can do this.” 

The gala itself is nothing different from other galas you’ve been to - men dressed in their uniform fashion of black and white suit and ties, ladies dressed with the most expensive fabric that sweeps against the floor coupled with their moussed hair and glamorous eye makeup. Unlike most events that you’ve attended, the people that sit around different circular tables housing wine glasses in their palms are unfamiliar to you - you grew up in a social network underneath your mother’s doing, Irene is a part of it, Lucas, who you had met formally several months ago by virtue of your mother, is also a part of it; each and every gala you have been to were filled with people you or your mother knew of - so the unknown characters around you right now, coupled with the unrevealing of your first ever design, ultimately terrifies you. You can pick out a few faces; Irene, of course, your manager, who had been gracing the dessert table for the past hour, and two of your stylists who continuously kept an eye on your hand that had gone back to fisting at the fabric of your dress, weary at wrinkles. 

“(Y/N)?” a familiar voice rings which causes your ear to perk, turning your head to the direction of the tall jolly man who lugs his shorter husband around, and another boy, a much younger boy, follows behind the both of them. Johnny has a quizzical look on his face, as if he were pondering the reason on why you were present - you must have had the same expression too, because he lets out laughter. “It’s peculiar to see you at an event such as this.” 

“I should say the same to you, Johnny.” you say, hand relaxing in Irene’s clasp. She relaxes her fingers and lets your hand go, consequently wiping her hands with a napkin as she makes a teasing quip about how clammy your hands are. You let out a pout at her comment before turning back around towards Johnny - this doesn’t seem like an event he would usually attend as well; he’s more of a youthful socialite gathering type of man, even more peculiar that he’d bring his husband along as well. “Ten, nice to see you again!” 

Ten rings out a smile to you as he leans down to give you a hug, before taking a seat at your table. The younger man who follows behind the two of them is a little awkward in stance, but he doesn’t fail to give you a warm, dashing smile, a calming grin stretched out on his face.

“I’m Jaemin,” he introduces himself, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “You must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N) - Jaehyun and Johnny talk about you a lot.” 

“Is that so?” you let out a laugh, quirking your eyebrows at Johnny who gives you a deadpan look, causing you to giggle. “But it’s very nice to finally meet you, Jaemin!”

The five of you drown the droning sound of classical music through small-chatter, catching up with each other from the past few weeks. Jaemin is a kind boy - charming, but level-headed and mature, he seemed wise beyond his years, and his manners were prim and proper. For a fleeting moment, you had wondered where he had gotten his personality from, seeing as Johnny is a loud, silly man while Jaehyun was more enigmatically rambunctious, but you push the thought out of your head. You think about what he had said when introducing himself to you - Jaehyun talked about you to him?

“So, when is the wedding, Irene?” Ten asks as he sinks the teeth of his fork into a red velvet cheesecake, sliding the fragment it into his mouth before setting his fork back down on the plate. 

“You’ll find out through the invitation cards,” Irene gives him a kilowatt smile, her eyes softening at the mention of the future event. “But it will be next Spring - we have yet to decide where the venue shall be, but when we do, like I said before, you’ll find out through the invitation cards.” 

“Oh, to be married,” Johnny cooed teasingly, as if he weren’t sitting next to his husband. “What a wonderful thing to imagine - finally becoming one with the love of your life during a beautiful ceremony. One can only dream.”

“Johnny Suh,” Ten deadpans, causing you and Irene to let out giggles. “I will not hesitate to shove this entire cake down your mouth, if that’s what you’re trying to hint at.” 

Johnny lets out a loud laughing, bringing his husband close for a hug as the shorter man, pouting, takes another bite out of his cheesecake. “I’m just joking,” Johnny says. “Being married to you is like a dream for me every single day.”

You watch the couple with admiration as they slowly begin to begin to chatter into their own world, gentle smiles and soft gazes exchanged between them; you’ve grown used to seeing the people around you amorous with their partners, but you still cannot deny the feeling of envy that creeps up in your stomach every time you were faced with a happy couple. It’s not that you want them to break up, because you would never wish for a beautiful pairing to split, no matter who they are, but it’s because you’ve still yet to find the one who could bring you into your own little world. You tear your gaze away from them to let them have their own privacy, bringing your attention to your fingers decorated with rings that range from Daniel Villegas to Swarovski,  but an emptiness pools in your heart when you realize none of them truly holds a significant meaning to you.

For a fleeting moment, Jaehyun’s face flashes in your mind, but you push it out of your thoughts as quickly as it had arrived. 

You quickly come to when you hear the dull tapping of a mic blare throughout the grand hall, a hush falling over the attendees as they redirect their attention towards the front of the venue, towards the mini platform that had housed the mini orchestra. Two men stand atop the platform, each clad in a dark grey suits by Johnston; you squint your eyes just slightly in order to make out their faces against the harsh spotlight that had shone onto them. One man seemed familiar, his hair greying and thinning, wrinkles of age outstretching the skin of his face, and you identify him as Mr. Jung, whom you met at the politician’s event last week. You are quizzical as to why they are here, wondering if this was a gala hosted by the Jung family. As you wondered, your eyes turn to the man beside him, only to find his eyes already on you. 

You gasped slightly when you see Jung Jaehyun, the ash blonde tone of his hair long gone and replaced with jet black locks, slicked away from his forehead and styled much like the first time you had seen him - he stands tall, as he always does, hands firm at his side and facial features juxtaposing each other as if he were modern art, but his eyes, the eyes that you’ve grown used to seeing desire, confidence, and adoration, are instead filled with nothing but alarm. He stares at you with widened eyes, his jaw visibly tightening as he seems to stop breathing for a fleeting moment, and at his unusual gait, a sense of doom rises in your stomach. 

“I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight,” Mr. Jung’s gruff voice blares through the speakers while he holds the microphone close to his mouth. “Today is a very, very special night for Jung & Associates; a very special night for my beloved son, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun finally tears his eyes from yours to look at his father, flashes the audience a kilowatt smile, as if he hadn’t looked at you with such alarm just mere seconds ago. 

“As we all know, my time as CEO of Jung & Associates has already come to an end, and I figured, with one last bang, why don’t I announce my son’s rise to the chair with a celebration?” he turns towards Jaehyun, whose lips are pressed tightly in a line. “I know that he’ll prove to be an amazing chief executive; he’s responsible, articulate, and intelligent - he is the son I have always dreamt of, and he is everything Jung & Associates has aimed for in our empire.”

You see Johnny‘s jaw clench from beside you against the dim lighting, and on the other side of the table, you see Jaemin gulp, and you couldn’t help but frown at how much pain their own father’s words must have caused the both of them. You reach out in an attempt to squeeze Johnny’s arm as a sense of comfort, as he is much closer to you physically, but a voice that causes your nerves to run wild inside of you blares through the speakers, causing you to pause mid-action and look back towards the platform. 

“Thank you, father,” Jaehyun says when the older man gives him the microphone, he toys with the wire before clearing his throat, looking back into the audience. “I’m very excited for the journey I’ll be taking with Jung & Associates; this has been my dream since I was a child, so I’m really happy to be here today.”

There is a pregnant pause in the air, and he takes a hitched breath. “As well for another announcement,” Jaehyun continues. “I’m very excited to announce a new era for Jung & Associates - we have merged with Kim & Park Law, an honour as we move into a bigger empire. Helping people is what both of our firm’s prioritize, so it only felt right.“

An applause breaks out in the crowd, and politely, you clap too, although you are unsure as to what was going on. You wondered how your design was going to be shown, when it will be revealed; you should have inquired your manager before arriving - this doesn’t seem like the correct environment for a revealing.

“That being said, I have one last announcement. I’m sure all of you are wondering just why I’m talking about the future of the merge between Jung & Associates Kim & Park Law, when we’ve merged with plenty other companies in the past. Well, it’s due to the fact that the worries of the future does not only pertain to the company, but to my personal life as well,” he pauses, and he looks around the room for a fleeting moment, but when his eyes land on yours, it seems as if the moment had lasted for years. A woman, a beautiful woman of tall stature with glowing blonde hair and skin kissed slightly by the sun walks up to the platform to stand next to Jaehyun, and adorned on her form is your design, with its lavender fabric that shines against the spotlight as if it were painted onto her skin, whose flowers decals swept against the floor in youthful, yet graceful, wonder. When Jaehyun finally tears his gaze from yours to look at her, she gives him a smile filled with love, and Jaehyun, with his dimples carved deep into the corners of his mouth, smiles back. 

“Chaeyoung Park, the beautiful daughter of one of the co-founder of Kim & Park Law, is to be my wife. Tonight, I am announcing our engagement.”

The doom that had been brewing in your stomach for the past few days had penetrated into your heart when the words absorb into your eardrums; the sinking feeling inside of you and the twisting pain that had erupted in your chest drowned out the applause and cheers of duress that had taken over the sound waves of the hall, your breath hitching in your throat as you wish only for the ground to swallow you whole. Johnny and Ten turn towards you, their eyes widened in horror as they open their mouths frantically, but you are unable to hear what they are saying. Irene, beside you, grabs your hand once more and rests her other one atop the back of your hand, and when you turn towards her, when you meet her heartbroken, pitiful gaze, when you realize that you and Jung Jaehyun, the man who had not only taken your opportunity of glory by taking away the attention from your first ever design, had also decided to tear your heart and soul apart in the most painful fashion.

The last thing you had remembered before your eyesight became a blur was forcefully standing up, the screeching of the legs of your chair hushed by the audience’s celebration, and walking out of the hall with Irene running after you as you will yourself to not let the tears spill past your waterline.

You come to when the moonlight that casts down into your dark bedroom causes your interior to glow ethereally; perhaps, if it were your usual day, you would stop to admire the setting - but even the most extravagant view is dust to you now as you wreak broken sobs of dismal into Irene’s comforting arms. 

“He’s not worth your tears, (Y/N),” Irene comforts you, motherly hand caressing your hair as she lets you sob. She hums soothingly as she does so, your body trembling in ache. “He’s just another ignorant, immature boy. He’ll bring the end of this stupid law firm while you’ll continue to reign with Decoré.”

“It hurts so much, Irene,” you sob into the fabric of her Elie Saab garment, guilty that you’re staining the silk with your heartbroken tears. “My heart hurts so much, he told me he loved me just last night and I told him I loved him back. I should have listened to you, how could I have trusted him? How could I be so thoughtless?”

“Shh,” Irene’s voice is soothing as she pushes you back to look at your face. “I will say, I did warn you. However, you can’t control your curiosity nor who you love, (Y/N). And yes, although you fell in love with a man of whom I want to do nothing else to but murder, you were not being thoughtless. You just did what you thought was right.”

“Nothing I did was right,” you wipe the tears that streamed down your face. “If I did what was right, then I would have never caught sight of him that first night, then I would have never met Johnny, then I would have never kept running into him in different countries, and I would have never fallen in love with him.”

She tucks a hair behind your ear before wiping your tears with her thumb, smearing some of your mascara and eyeliner underneath your red, swollen eyes. She smiles with a bittersweetness. “Everything happens for a reason, (Y/N).”

You change out of your dress, hem stained by grass and dirt marks from walking carelessly through the front garden towards the entrance when you were leaving the gala, and Irene stays outside your door as she informs Seokjin that she’ll be staying over at your home. She doesn’t tell her fiancé what had happened, deciding to keep it a secret between the two of you, and Johnny and Ten. You let out a sigh as you remember the two men’s shocked faces when they had turned to you, anger and denial clear in their faces; were you and Jaehyun not as discreet as you had thought? Your stomach twisted in pain when you think of more options; had Jaehyun lied to you about keeping it a secret?

“Irene?” your voice is meek when you reach out to her arm as the two of you lay beside each other in your plush bed hours after your sobbing had calmed down. She hums, flipping her sleeping mask away from her eyes as she looks at you. “How did you know about Jaehyun and I?” 

She waits for a few seconds, as if pondering on what to say. “The tension between the two of you was claustrophobic,” she says after a few seconds. “You also both held these... certain gazes towards each other. Gazes that I gave Seokjin when I pined for him, and gazes that I still give him now.” 

Your stomach twists once more as tears spring against your waterline. Perhaps asking wasn’t the correct decision. You sniff, in an attempt to calm your emotions. “Oh.”

“It’ll be okay, (Y/N),” Irene sighs, her hand on top of yours in an effort to comfort you, acknowledging your shaking voice. “It will be hard, but you can find a better man. A better man than Jaehyun had ever been.”

“Of course.” you whisper. “Goodnight, Irene.”

“Goodnight.”

Later that night, when Irene’s soft snoring emits from her form beside you, you reach for your phone that slept against your bedside table. When you rouse it awake, a dull pain seeps into your heart at the sight of the notifications that lined your screen; all of them were from Jaehyun. A tear escapes your eyes as you unlock your device, willing yourself to not read the countless messages he had sent you, almost enraged at his ignorance for even thinking of doing such a thing - was it his goal to mock you, to taunt you of how your body was under control of his lips? 

You think back on his actions towards you for the past year you’ve been aware of his existence, filled with aching eyes and desired touches, small exchanges of soft smiles and slight smirks. Had that all just been an act, for him? Had he looked at you with lust, only to go back home and give his girlfriend, his fiancée, the same ones - only this time, with authentic emotions? Had he spent the last year making it seem as if he were the one pining after you, when in reality, you were the one that had those feelings? Had he doused the three words he said on your last affair in a brew of lies before letting them absorb into your eardrums? Had wickedness glowed in his heart when you uttered the same three words back? 

Because, as you continue upon thinking more about the situation, late that night, you realize that his fiancée was not the one that hurt you - she probably had no clue about all of this, just as you had been. 

You were the other woman.

Your heart clenches in your chest sending a wreck of pain through your nerves, biting your lip to muffle back a broken sob as thoughts fly into your mind at a pace you had never encountered before.

Jung Jaehyun knew you; he knew all your secrets when you uttered them in his ear when you would lay next to him in bed, he knew of your quirks that would slip out when trying to keep your relations discreet in the public eye, he knew of the facade that you would put up after stepping past the gates of your house, he knew what your body liked and craved and how to get you to slip over the edge when he would fuck you, he knew of your goals, he knew of your wishes, he knew of your desire for love and marriage - but you knew nothing about Jung Jaehyun.

You swallow once in an attempt to calm the increasing regret that begins to fill your stomach before tapping your screen one final time that night, the block button that sits underneath his contact emitting a light blue before his number finally disappears from your device, deleting your text conversations, erasing every lingering retention of Jung Jaehyun.

-----

The plain taste of water fills your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps you should have ordered a much more tasteful drink to accompany the savoury meal in front of you, of different breads, seasonings and pastas. Your shoulders are straight as you sit in the chair of crushed velvet, corset at a comfortable tightness as you keep a watchful gaze on the people around you. A sigh escapes your mouth when you spot a lovely couple seated a few seats away from you, hands outstretched and on top of each other against the wooden table, love full in their eyes as they gazed at each other in admiration.  

Perhaps coming here was the wrong idea. 

Three years ago, you were brought to the chair of Decoré after the sudden passing of your mother, a tragic event that graced headlines much to your grief in utter remembrance - the year of her death was an ache to you, every person you turned to would bring it up, which would only spark tears in your eyes and pain in your chest. Becoming used to the chair was not an easy task at all either, having to give up the modelling career that you had forged from a young age in order to focus fully on the company’s strings - and you didn’t have your mother to help you either. As the years went by, you formed into a different woman; long gone was the girl who put a mask in front of the public in order to keep her reputation spotless, long gone was the girl who calculated her movements in order to keep an outrage from sparking - however, sometimes, when all the lights in your lonesome penthouse are turned off and all you can hear is the distant buzz of the streets below, you would silently cry to yourself, wishing like a child that everything hadn’t changed so drastically. 

You and Irene are still in contact, as close as ever, and you had the will to have invited you on your trip - but due to her growing family and growing pregnant belly, she was most likely unable to accompany you on your planned rendezvous’ these recent days; Johnny, ever the positive man, also continued to contact you as well, albeit sparsely - but the incident that had happened caused a strain to form on your friendship - he treated you like a ticking time bomb, careful with his words in order to not let a memory spring in your mind. Last you heard, he had adopted two little twin girls with his husband. You, on the other hand, admittedly have had your nights of pleasure, hooking up with random men dressed in fancy custom suits that you’d meet at random lounges and events, but they were never serious. They would always leave right after your affair ends. Your ring finger bears no band, and you’re unsure if it ever will.

Presently, you sit at a lounge, someplace in Milan, celebrating the opening of a new boutique in your favoured city, lonesome. In due fairness, you were planning to ask your secretaries and closest employees to accompany you, but after the hard work they had put into opening the new branch in a foreign country, you opted to give them the rest of the day off instead. As crowds of people chatted amongst themselves in duress, all you can do is sip hesitantly at your water and pick at your food, regretting the idea of coming here alone. It seems as the universe is mocking you, as well, decorations of hearts and and cupids littered against the walls of the restaurant, as today is Valentine’s day - everyone around you is on a date, perhaps their first or one of many, and you are sitting there, alone, completely out of place. 

Yes, coming here was definitely the wrong idea.

Yet, you couldn’t bear to let the food you had ordered and had people put their backbone into making to go to waste, so instead of standing up to retrieve your tweed coat hung on the backrest of your chair, you continue to eat quietly, by yourself, underneath the guise of being distracted by your phone screen. As you ponder about the what-ifs, thinking about having ordering room service from the comfort of your hotel room instead, a waitress props a tall, skinny glass of a familiar liquid in front of you. 

“Domaine de la romanée-cont, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she greets you with a gracious smile, bowing her head slightly. “From the gentleman at the bar.”

You furrow your eyebrows together in bewilderment at the glass before thanking the waitress and sending her on her way. You study the flute intently, gazing at it’s red liquid that seemed to glow against the yellow lighting of the restaurant, before wrapping your fingers around it to take it towards your lips. The bitter taste of domaine de la romanée-cont graces your taste buds when the liquid engulfs your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps the theory of a maturing palate is true, you do not favour the taste of the wine that you would eagerly look for at events when you were younger and in your old household - but it also brings another memory to you, a distant recalling, eyes that you have not looked into for the past few years embedding into your brain when the taste hits your tongue. 

Jung Jaehyun is a distant name to you now, the taste of his name slipping off your tongue becoming a foreign feeling as each day passes, fingerprints he left on your skin slowly eroding away through time. Often, you’d see his face on the screen of your television, read his name on front pages of magazines that they’d display at those corner stores you’d idly pass by, or hear his name in hushed chatter from people around you engrossed in their own conversation - but as quickly as he had nearly ingrained himself into your life once more, you’d change the channel, or flip the page, or tune out of the conversation. Although no parts of you hold no bearing of the memoirs of Jung Jaehyun, sometimes, you’d find yourself laying awake at night, wishing for the memories that still lay in the cavities of your brain to come to life once again, to feel his fingerprints burn into your skin much like they had five years ago - but as a chief executive at the age of twenty-seven, all you can do is tell yourself to grow up, and force yourself to do paperwork instead of wishing for something that will never come true. 

So when you spot Jung Jaehyun sat at the dark mahogany bar after looking for the man who had paid for this drink, with his umber eyes boring into yours, you are unsure on how to act.

He is as beautiful as the first time you laid eyes on him, his facial features a stunning juxtaposition as the dim overhead lighting of the bar accentuates his sleek cheeks and soft jawline, his sharp lips and soft, brown eyes. His hair, remaining a jet-black, much like the first time that you had seen him, is brushed over his forehead messily. He wears a simple white button up shirt, the first two buttons undone, tucked into a pair of black trousers adorned with a belt. On his wrist, as he cradles a glass of champagne as he watches you, is a golden watch from Louis Vuitton, His mouth is pulled into a straight line, and in his eyes, hold observe, as if he were waiting for how you would react. Even now, when he approaches you and sits in the chair opposite from yours, his eyes still hold a deep meaning. 

Upon meeting his eye, it seems as if all the memories you have buried deep into your brain becomes uncovered, images flashing before your eyes in montages like an old film movie; his eyes gazing into yours with desire, fingers pressing into your skin as to leave a crater of himself on your form, lips ghosting the crook of your neck when he used to roll his hips into you - the act alone is enough to make you gasp from both shock and hurt, tears slightly beginning to tease your waterline, but you take note of the environment around you and decide that you shouldn’t act out. 

“Jung Jaehyun,” you finally speak, keeping your tone unwavering. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.” he speaks, setting the bottom of his glass against the white cloth. Jet black strands fall past his eyes and he brushes them back, before meeting his eyes with you again. “I hope you have been well, (Y/N).”

“I have.” you answer him, switching your gaze back and forth between his eyes - what was his goal in speaking to you like this; you do not hold an inkling of care for him as you once did, was his plan to taunt you of your old affairs? You decide not to thank him on his greeting, nor return it, and continue to speak venomously. “Why are you here?”

He seems taken aback from your blunt answers, stilling for only a fleeting moment before parting his lips again. “I’m here to oversee the Milan branch,” he answers you in a strain. “I was just enjoying a night out when I saw you, and I wanted to greet you again.”

“Alright.” you simply give him a simper, setting your fork down before you push the avoided glass of domaine de la romanée-cont towards him. He watched your action with puzzled eyes. “I don’t like the taste of this wine anymore; you should have just kept your money in your pocket.”

“Oh,” is all he could say. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything, instead, you begin to pack up your belongings into your purse, quickly arranging the utensils of the finished meal in front of you to help the waitresses clean your table easier for when you leave. You avoid his gaze when you finally stand up, taking your tweed coat hanging off the backrest of your seat and sliding it on, brushing your hair out from being tucked into it. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jung.” you tell him, still not attempting to hold his watchful eye as you turn on your heel and walked towards the exit, not wanting to hear any words slip past his lips. You are appalled, could a man really be so ignorant, to attempt to mock you in front of your face, even years later? Perhaps he still held himself in high regard from the past, and though a small part of you wreaks with hurt, slight tears springing to your eyes when the February air kisses your cheeks as you walk past the doors, anger still continues to move through your nerves. 

“(Y/N),” you hear his voice following after you as you walk through the cobblestone walkways, the calm waters of the Navigli canal that was located right at the exit juxtaposing the emotions that stir inside of you at the sound of his voice. “Please, I just want to talk.”

You continue to walk away from him, hearing his fast footsteps a few meters behind yours. “You had the chance to talk to me years ago before that night.” you simply say, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat from the cold air. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your chance.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, and you hear him begin to jog to your side, and once he comes into view, all you can do is bump past him in a fit of aggravation. “Please, listen to me. Just let me talk.”

“I don’t have time to talk. I run a company. Don’t you?” you say in a hard tone. You hear his footsteps come to a stop and you let out a relieved sigh at the thought - you just wanted to leave past him and never see him again, just as he had done to you all those years ago; his voice causes you to halt, just seconds later. 

“I do not.” his voice is a few meters away from you but the tone of his voice causes your step to falter, and you widen your eyes at the discovery. 

You furrow your eyebrows together before pivoting on his heel to face him, finding his form closer to your body than you had anticipated. “What do you mean?”

“Jung & Associates isn’t under my command anymore. I gave up the position to my youngest brother, Jaemin, who was more ready than I ever was,” he tells you, eyes dark, voice genuine, but the wall that has built before your heart causes your form to stay rigid. “Have you not seen the articles going around, (Y/N)? I did this nearly two years ago. I want no responsibility of the sort - father nearly kicked me out of the family for my choices, but I’m just Jung Jaehyun now.”

You weigh the options of believing him and avoiding his words for a few seconds, opting for the latter as you let out a scoff. The calm waters beside the two of your forms stays moving in slow waves. “Don’t expect me to believe your lies, Jaehyun.”

“I’m not lying.” he says. “I have never lied to you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” you spit, and a sense of hurt flashes in his eyes - you want to slap him, how dare he feel hurt at your words when he’s caused you greater hurt than you’ve ever felt. “How can you expect me to believe you when everything we’ve ever done together was based on false words?”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N),” he says, reaching out towards you but you slap his hand away - retracting his arm as more pain pools into his pupils. You feel the tears finally begin to tease your waterline the moment you had touched him, letting out a soft cry. “What we had was real, and you know that.”

“No, it wasn’t.” you tell him, attempting to keep your tone unwavering. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me again, Jung Jaehyun. I was the other woman, and you never had the audacity to tell me. You never had the audacity to at least give me the chance to end whatever... we were.”

“(Y/N).” he says, simply, but you only tear your eyes off of him, letting out a sigh of annoyance as you look at the calm waters of the canal beside you. 

”Please, just leave me be. Don’t you have a wife to take care of?”

“I don’t,” he tells you, and his words cause you to look at him again with puzzled eyes. He parts his lips again to speak. “Me and Chaeyoung were engaged under business terms - it was never real between us, I couldn’t bare marrying a woman I didn’t love, nor could she, so I ended the merge and our engagement, which cut my ties to the chair.”

You let out a breath at listening to him, eyes falling downcast to the ground, attempting to keep the tears from slipping down your cheeks, but you fail, the streaks hot against your face against the cool air. 

“Why would you do that?” you ask him in a hushed tone. 

He whispers back. “Life is a risk, isn’t it?”

Silence seduces the air between the two of you for a few seconds, the only sounds heard is the distant soundtrack of cars moving past the roads and the slight sloshing of the bed of water beside the two of you. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, and then he parts his lips open. 

“The first time I saw you,” he says, taking a step towards you before bringing a hand up to wipe your tears from your face, his presence so close to you. “It was at your mother’s gala, that one spring. I was there due to my father’s orders to coax your mother into having us buy Decoré. I knew who you were, after researching the revenue of your company - but when I saw you... I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I came home that night, my father was angry that I couldn’t go through one task he had asked me to do - and he gave me a choice. Buy your company, or merge with another company by marriage.”

You keep quiet, letting his words pour into your ears as you listen intently, every syllable hard hitting to your chest as you feel your stomach begin to pool with trust.

“I remember I kept bumping into you in different cities,” he lets out a soft chuckle, juxtaposing the tears that are welling up in his eyes. “Bordeaux, Cebu... I remember butterflies going wild in my stomach when I saw you at the resort in Cebu, but my mind was set. I needed to talk to you, and so I ordered you your wine, and I finally was able to.”

You let out a shaky breath as you continue to listen to him, your mind swirling with thoughts but becoming silenced when he cradles your cheek in his palm.

“And that night in Milan,” he pauses, his hands cupping your cheeks now, an action burning into your skin much like the first few times he had done it long ago. “When I saw you walking down the runway with that wedding dress, walking towards me at the end of the runway… it all just made sense.”

You gasp lightly, widening your eyes at the realization of his words, and it is at your reaction that causes his tears to finally fall from his own eyes, staining his red cheeks with wet streaks. It is an action that causes you to recall the last time you had been entangled with him, wiping his tears away as the both of you whisper the three words that you’ve become so scared of uttering.

“Do you want to know the reason why I held such detest for Johnny, all those years ago?” he asks you, and you do not answer, continuing to look at him in bewilderment. “It was because I was jealous that he could live a life freely while I could not. It was because I was jealous that he could start his own career from what he favoured to do, and I had to take on the responsibilities of the family. It was because I envied the fact that he could marry whomever he wanted,” he paused, only for a brief moment, but it felt like millennia when all you could feel at that moment was your nerves exploding at his words. 

“And that I could not marry you.”

His lips are like home to you, warm against yours and sending a frenzy through your nerves, and you realize, perhaps you never really did forget the way his lips meshed against yours, and how it felt to feel his presence burn into your skin. Even as tears streamed down both of your cheeks as your lips mold into each other with both yearning and passion. You are unsure of how many moments you stand like that, still, hearing the water move beside the both of you quietly, the stars above you twinkling in their delight much like the lamp posts that litter the street, lips dancing against each other. Your hands are tangled in his hair, each strand brushing against your fingers and palms in a familiar dance, as his hands cup against your mouth - and you realize why you have grown to dislike the taste of domaine de la romanée-cont, the wine you use to favour - it’s because you have found your favourite taste in Jaehyun’s lips.

You find your hands having a mind of their own when you pull him by the collar of his coat, bringing him closer to you, and within seconds you are hastily leading him through the walkways towards your hotel. Your lips are still molded together at the front of the hotel, at the entrance of the lobby, the warm yellow lights that emit from the chandeliers inside spilling out to your forms. Perhaps, years ago, you would never do such a brash act in public - but at present, you could care less for the possible paparazzi loitering around the area, you could care less of the stares that the both of you attract when you drag him through the lobby towards the elevator shafts, stepping in, never once moving away from each other. When you pull away with panting breaths, he presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as his tears calm. His hands are still placed on your waist, unwilling to let go, and the both of you relish in each other’s presence for a moment, letting silence overtake you; slowly letting the other settle back into their life, dwelling themselves in the space that they had used to take. 

“I want you,” he whispers, the ghost of his breath brushing against your nose as you let your hands fall from the strands of his hair and onto his cheeks. One of his hands make it on top of yours, warm against your skin. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“You have me now,” you whisper, hands trailing from his cheeks towards the hardening member underneath the fabric of his trousers. “So please ruin me.” 

Both of your bodies deem impatient when the bell sounds with a ding!, announcing that the two of you had arrived to the floor of your penthouse - you are only thankful that the immediate first step from exiting the elevator is already your lounge room, discarding your coat onto the ground as you swiftly push Jaehyun further into your penthouse. His hands have transitioned from gentle touches to rougher grips, arms wrapped around your waist now, letting you lead the way as his slick tongue slips past yours. He moans into the kiss as you push him down towards the suede black couch that decorates your lounge; your knees are on both sides of him, straddling him, never once breaking your kiss. You run your fingers through his hair as he leans back against the backrest of the couch, fingers tracing down your clothed spine and then cupping your ass through the fabric of your noir Dior dress. You pull away from his lips slightly to let out a moan that had been building up since you had last seen him - you hadn’t realized how much your body ached for his touch.

“So eager...” he whispers as you pant out, his lips attaching onto your neck, reminding your skin of what his tongue had felt like. He slowly moves his hands underneath your dress, rolling the tight fabric up over your bottom, your bare-skin now exposed to the cool temperature of your penthouse. His hands are warm against your flesh before he raises his hand to smack your pad of skin lightly, the contact causing a sound to ripple through the air as you let out a soft gasp. You feel him smirk against your skin. “You like that, darling?”

The nickname that slipped past his tongue causes your core to throb, having not heard those words from him in so long - it’s laughable really, how you were still underneath Jung Jaehyun’s five years later, even after you swore never to pine for him again. Your cheeks heat up as he continues to smack your ass, leaning back now to watch your facial expressions, a smug smirk on his face. “Look at you. You like being spanked, darling?” he taunts you, and your core throbs once more. 

You bite down on your lip to suppress a moan as you nod your head, his hits slowly begin to turn harder, pain burning into your skin - but you love it all; Jaehyun puts his mark onto you again, this time, they’ll never fade away. He spanks you sharply, and you let a yelp emit from your lips. “That’s it,” he grins when he hears your whine, his black hair brushing past his eyes. “Let it out, darling. Make the entire hotel know what I’m doing to you.”

You find yourself rocking your hips slowly after every spank, rutting your wet panties against the swelling hardness in Jaehyun’s trousers. You hadn’t realized what you had been doing until he lets out a low groan, craning his neck backwards at the sensation of your clothed heats grinding into each other. He grips his fingers into the flesh of your ass as you continue. 

“You’re so fucking hard already,” you whisper, the outline of his cock against your core causing shudders to rake through your nerves. He bites down on his lip as his eyes flutter shut, causing you to smirk; you rut your hips faster. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone sensitive, Jaehyun. It would be such a bummer if you cum so early in our affair.” 

He seems to snap back into reality at your sentence, eyes opening and craning his neck straight to look towards you, umber eyes turning a shade dark before one of his hands find their way against your clothed heat. “You’ve gotten brave,” he says in a hushed tone. “Just because I haven’t fucked you in a while doesn’t mean you can take control. That’s not how it works, darling.”

“I can take control over you whenever I wa-“ you start, but your sentence is cut short at the feeling of Jaehyun pushing your thin panties to the side before harshly pressing his long fingers into you, causing you to lean forward at the sensation that you have yearned for so long. In the corner of your eye, you see him smirk in arrogance, but you cannot say anything - not when he’s already began to fuck his finger into you. “Fuck, Jaehyun!”

“Finish your sentence.” he whispers calmly, as if his digits weren’t doing something so obscene. “You know how much I hate it when people don’t finish their sentences. You can take control of me? Is that what you were gonna say?”

“J-Jaehyun!” you mewl, legs buckling as you lose your balance on top of him, your hips having a mind of their own as you begin to rock your hips against his fingers. He moves you swiftly, so that your back is against his chest, legs spread with the help of his own, his fingers pushing in and out of you so deliciously. 

“Answer my fucking question, slut.” he says, baritone voice deep in your ear. 

The name causes you to gasp, sinful words and the sensation of his long, thick digits spreading you apart after so long already having you see stars in your eyes. “J-Jaehyun,” you whimper, voice wavering with every pump he fucks into you. “I was w-wrong. Y-You have control over me. I’m yours.”

You feel him smile against your ear. “Good.” he praises you, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sweet spot that causes your toes to curl and for you to let out a sweet mewl. “Now tell me how good of a whore you are and if I should let you cum or not. Did you let other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite down on your lip as his digits pick up the pace, moving in and out of your hole with sopping sounds; the room is filled with a sinful soundtrack of Jaehyun’s dirty words, your breathy whimpers, and the sound of his palm slapping against your cunt. He brushes past your spot again, which causes you to buck your hips, letting out a louder mewl. He pushes your waist down with his free hand, wrapping his legs around yours to bring them wider, fully having you encompassed in his body. His fingers do not stop though, they ram against your sweet spot repeatedly, earning high-pitched moans to emit from your throat; all that you are able to say, is his name. “Don’t you fucking listen?” he growls into your ear, digits ruthless as they continue to fuck into you, stretching your walls out the way you like. “Tell me. Did other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite onto your lip and weigh your options, whether you should tell him the truth, or not. Throughout the past five years of not wanting to face Jaehyun, you have accumulated quite a list of men that you had hooked up with for the enjoyment of one single night - many of them left you unsatisfied, but anything was better than you being left to your own devices. Tears begin to spring your eyes at the doubled speed Jaehyun was going now - you had forgotten how ruthless he is in bed, just the way you like it. 

“Yes.” you decide to tell him the truth, although, you come to regret it when Jaehyun pulls his wet fingers out of you and slaps your cunt, your sensitive clit hit with dull thud of pain before he plunges his fingers deep into you again.

“Dirty whore,” he spits, but you’re unable to answer at the amount of pleasure overtaking your core. “Who? Who fucked you while I was gone? Tell me all of them or else you won’t get to cum.”

You tighten your walls around his fingers when he brushes past your spot for the nth time but he pulls his fingers out of you before you are able to be pushed to the edge, the built up high slowly fading just slightly before he plunges them back in again, a mewl emitting from your lips when realizing that your orgasm has to be built once again. “Jaehyun!” you whine, bucking your hips in aggravation against his ruthless hand, but he tightens his grip on you. 

“I fucking said, tell me who fucked you,” he says through grit teeth. “Or else you won’t be able to cum at all.”

“N-Nakamoto Yuta,” you whisper. Your walls spasm around his fingers again, when he brushes the pads of his digits against your spot. You let out a moan as the pleasure rakes through your body, but you continue to power through, aching for your orgasm to rip through your limbs. “Kim Taehyung, L-Lee Minhyuk,” his fingers seem to bear no ending as they continue to fuck in and out of you while you recite each name that you are able to recall under the circumstance, but all that comes to and end when you utter the last name. “Kim Doyoung.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and hastily grabs your hair, forming it into a makeshift ponytail as he pulls your head closer to him. His grip on your scalp is tight and you let out a cry of pain as well as annoyance at your ruined orgasm - yet, you wanted more. He slowly moves you to the side, standing up from the couch and setting his feet in front of you, towering over your form, and you feel your heart sink in both fear and excitement. 

“Kim Doyoung?” he chuckles lowly, slightly tugging on your hair harshly before redirecting your gaze to his belt, and your breath hitches in your throat at the realization of what he wants you to do. “So tell me, darling. Did he fuck you until you couldn’t walk, just like you wanted?”

Out of all the men that you had found yourself in bed with, often random strangers who believed it would be a stepping stone towards achieving your empire by your side, Kim Doyoung was one that you were not expecting. After running into him in a jazz lounge in New York City; the both of you caught up on what the other had missed, apologized for not staying in contact - and as each glass of liquor passed by the both of you in blurs, you quickly come to when both of your forms were barely able to make it to his bed, having bent you over the kitchen counter of his penthouse as he drilled into you from behind. 

Just like Jaehyun, Doyoung was ruthless - he left marks on your skin that you had to cover for almost a week before you were certain they weren’t to be seen by the media, and for the entire day after the ordeal, you had deemed too sore to walk, having to call into your headquarters to inform them that you would be working from home that day. However, unlike Jaehyun, you held no connection with Doyoung - his gaze, though filled with lust and desire, held no longing and yearning for who you really are; his touch, though pleasurable and able to bring you to the edge, did not light fires against your skin. 

As you pull Jaehyun’s pants down, his throbbing cock slapping against his stomach, the memories of that night are pushed out of your mind at the expense of your desire. You quickly wrap your hands around his shaft, thick and large - your core twitching at the thought of his cock stretching you out again. You part your lips before you swirl your tongue on his pink tip, the sensation of your slick tongue slathering around him letting a low groan emit from his throat. “Shit, baby,” he groans, relaxing his grip on your hair, pushing stray strands away from your face to get a better view. 

“Fuck, I missed your pretty little mouth so much.”

You had forgotten how big he was when you attempt to take all of him into your throat, a gagging sound reverberating off the walls of your penthouse, which causes him to groan louder. “Shit,” he hisses, and he begins to rock his hips slowly. “Yeah, that’s right, choke on my cock like the dirty little whore you are.”

His throbbing tip hits the back of your throat in repeated beats, tears springing into your eyes as your gagging causes more saliva to flow out your mouth. He slowly begins to thrust faster, craning his head back at how good your throat feels around him; the grip he held in your hair tightens once again, keeping your head in place as he fucks your mouth. “Mmm, shit,” he grunts. “So fucking good. Such a whore, letting me fuck your throat, hm? Fuck! I missed you so fucking much.”

Obscenities fall from his lips as he continued to rut into your mouth, lewd noises of saliva against flesh emitting throughout the room; tears stained with mascara line down your face but you keep your hands trained on his hips as support - you’re almost sure that your sopping heat has begun to stain the fabric of the couch you sat atop. He thrusts once more, slowly this time, a guttural grunt sounding from his chest as he stuff your mouth - the tip of your nose tickles the base of his cock, and you screw your eyes shut to combat your gagging reflex, before he pulls out, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. 

“Please fuck me,” you beg him, leaning back into the couch as you desperately spread your legs apart, inviting him to your wet pussy. You pout at him through teary eyes, not bothering to wipe the saliva that lines your mouth, not bothered at the saliva that had stained your expensive dress, wanting nothing more than to be fucked already. “Please fuck me, I need you so bad. Please, Jaehyun.”

“Such an eager whore,” he chuckles as he moves in closer, positioning his cock against your pussy before he reaches to the top of your dress. He uncovers your chest roughly, you’re almost sure you can hear the slight ripping of fabric when he does, but you don’t care - not when his cock slides between your folds like that, barely attempting to plunge in. “I thought you were busy running a business? Looks like you have plenty of time to fuck.”

“Jaehyun, please...” you whine each time his tip passes by your entrance, but he continues to slather your lingering saliva and his pre-cum all over your pussy. “Please just fuck me, Jaehyun. Please.”

He smirks in arrogance before he drives into you with no warning, knocking the air out of you as you barely have time to readjust to his size before he begins to slam into you repeatedly, causing your voice ripping through the air as you scream his name repeatedly. “Jaehyun! Jaehyun!”

“You’ve become such a slut while I was gone, darling,” he grunts as he grabs onto your legs for balance as he stretches out your cunt, spreading your legs further. You are certain your body will never forget this sensation now, just as delicious as the first time he had done it, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Did you forget who your cunt belongs to?”

You are unable to form a sentence as each push into you just continues to knock the air out of your lungs, mewling in pleasure at his cock sliding against your slick walls. His hands gripped at your waist roughly, watching you bounce underneath him in your glory; your hair splayed around your face as if handpicked like fresh daisies. You feel your orgasm nearing, but Jaehyun seems to have no qualms for stopping, continuing to pull out of you entirely before snapping back in even as he feels your walls quivering. “Cumming already?” he growls, voice strained as he rocks his core wildly. “What a fucking slut.”

Gripping at the sheets is all you could do in that moment to keep your sense of self occupied, your orgasm finally ripping through your body, arching your back as his name emits through the air that you’re sure the hotel’s inhabitants would hear from the first floor. “Jaehyun, I’m cumming! I’m fucking cumming!”

He doesn’t stop though, if anything, his hips move faster and rougher against yours, the only sound accentuating your screaming are his hips slapping against your cunt - even as you come down from your orgasm, your body numb as you settle, he continues to fuck into you, face contorted into pleasure. Your legs tremble with each time he brushes against your spot, hips bucking wildly each rut he pushes into you. “Fuck, you’re still so, so, fucking tight,” he grunts, voice deep and filled with need. “I missed you so fucking much. Are you on the pill, babyl?”

“No,” you moan into his ear when he pushes into you deep and rough. “I don’t care. I want your cum inside me, please. I want it so bad.”

He groans at your words, his hips beginning to roll faster, holding you in his arms and burying your face in your neck as he does. “F-Fuck,” the vibrations of his voice tickles the skin of your neck. “You want my cum, baby? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Hm? Is that what you want? Get you pregnant to prove to you who your cunt really belongs to?”

“Yes!” you practically beg, hungering for your second orgasm. At this point, you are unable to even comprehend what slips past your mouth, your voice a montage of lewd noises and gibberish as his hips snap against you. Your sight has darkened, all your senses have gone numb, all you are able to focus on is his cock driving further and further into you over and over again, and his voice that seemed miles away even while he whispers the most sinful things into your ear. 

“Mmm, fuck! I’m gonna c-cum, baby, fuck!” he groans loudly, reverberating off the marble walls as he leans back; his hips begin to stutter against yours, feeling him twitch inside you as he fills you up, moans of your name and other crude words slipping past his tongue. You let out breathy pants as he slowly pulls out of you, his cock coming out of your cunt as his cum follows soon after, the fluid warm against your abused skin - he takes his long fingers and swipes up some of the drip before plunging his fingers deep into your cunt again, causing another moan to rip through your throat.

“Oh my fucking god, Jaehyun,” you squeal, reaching down to grab his arm to keep his fingers from pounding into you again, but the overriding sensation has already taken over you nerves, your pleads of mercy turning into moans of pleasure. Your toes curl as the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping his cum back into you reaches your ears. 

“Take it,” he grunts, watching your red face, hot with gratifaction. “Take all my cum, baby. So, so pretty carrying my baby. You’ll be glowing, so fucking precious and beautiful. And everyone will know that I’m the one who got you like that, yeah? Right, baby?” 

“Y-Yes, Jaehyun,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel your third orgasm of the night approaching, his fingers relentless against your cunt, making sure none of him leaks out. He brushes past your spot one last time, sensitive and numb, before you throw your head back into the cushions of your couch, final orgasm ripping through your nerves, unable to do anything else but moan quietly at both the plain and pleasure. “O-Oh my god.”

When your orgasm finally settles, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes progress from the darkest you have ever seen them back to their normal, soft umber tone, leaning up to kiss you softly. You have tears in your eyes from what your body endured, and you’re far too sore to move your limbs, but you kiss back, relishing in the feeling that you have missed for so long - he picks you up from the couch, your legs hanging in the air as he holds you close as he successfully finds your bedroom. He lays you down on the plush mattress and reaches to the bedside table where a box of tissues laid, wiping your body down, his actions mellow and calm, as he utters sweet nothings to you. “You’re so, so beautiful. You’re so good to me. You’re my entire world.” 

When he finally finishes cleaning the both of you up, he wastes no time in getting into the other side of the bed, holding you close against him. Your breathing had finally calmed, your chest rising and falling in tranquil beats. You lay your cheek against his chest, relishing in the still environment that occupied the space around you. 

“Jaehyun,” you utter, after a few moments of silence. “You won’t leave, this time, right?”

“Never,” Jaehyun assures you, his hand running through your hair. “I have never left in the first place.” 

A soft smile makes its way onto your lips as you close your eyes, delighting in the thudding beat of his heart in his chest. His fingers continue to play with the strands of your hair, his breathing calming to your ears, lulling you as if it were a lullaby.

“Please talk to me,” you whisper, just a few seconds before sleep overtakes you. “Tell me about yourself. I want to hear your voice.”

He takes a few moments of pause, before you hear him breathe in. “My name is Jung Jaehyun,” he starts. “I am twenty-seven years old, I am the son of Jaejin and Shinae Jung, I have three brothers, my favourite colour is white, I love spring, I like to sing,” he pauses again, and you feel him press a tender kiss against the hair on the crown of your head.

“And I am in love with you.”

-----

The rising sun is warm against your face as you gaze at the gradient sky above you, hues of purples turning into deep oranges before coming together into a light blue. The clouds move laggardly against the beautiful sky; in the distance, you can hear the ocean waves crashing against the shores of the Amalfi coast, the scent of salt-water calming to your nerves as you take in a deep breath. The sky drenches you in an orange hue as you wrap your satin chiffon robe around you tighter, the slight breeze that blows against your form causing the foliage decorated on your balcony to dance in groups. You hear the sound of the door that separates your balcony landing from your hotel room, and a smile teases your lips when you feel strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“You’re up early,” his breath his warm against you ear as he holds you tightly, eyes gazing at the view alongside you. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Just enjoying the view.” you reply, resting your head against his as he slowly begins to sway you back and forth. Your hands snake around his arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers ghosting over the wedding ring wrapped around your finger. “Are the kids still asleep?”

“Yes,” he whispers, his arms secured around your form. He chuckles lightly against your ear. “The two of them were snoring before I walked out here. It was adorable, actually.”

“How cute,” you coo, smiling fondly. “Maybe we should take them to the beach today! It’s been a long time since I’ve swam in the ocean.”

“We should; for now though...” he answers, voice turning low. “The kids won’t be up until a few hours.”

“Oh shush, you pervert,” a giggle passes your lips as you lightly hit his arm, which only causes him to chucke once more before tightening his hold on you slightly. “Let’s just enjoy this beautiful view for now.”

“This view is nothing compared to you.” he teases you, amusement clear in his voice as you feel his smile against your ear. 

“Goodness, Jung Jaehyun,” you tsk. “You’ve gotten so corny.” 

To wake up every day to the sight of Jung Jaehyun’s face is something that you would have only thought of as a dream years ago; to feel his hands wrapped around you in safety as sunlight pours in every single morning is a sensation you would have never thought to have. Gone were the early mornings of his absence, acknowledgements and memoirs only left behind with a crude or romantic note, traded with the blessing that adorned both of your ring fingers. 

The wedding was held at a small, humble chapel, held only a month after the both of you had found each other again. Guests of those who are important to the both of you attended with their valour and blessings - Irene, at first, was shocked with what had turned out, but after conversing with your now-husband and realizing that all that she had heard was nothing but false words, only tears of happiness lined her eyes when she saw you walk down the aisle. Johnny and Ten were there as well, joy clear in their demeanours as they congratulated the both of you - you had also discovered that both Johnny and Jaehyun had mended their brotherly relationship, laughs and kind gestures traded between them at the following reception. You had wished for your mother to be there as well, perhaps to show her that you really were able to find love that isn’t fake, as she had believed, or perhaps to see her bear tears for your happiness. 

And although your wedding was rushed and deftly planned, a few quirks showing up throughout the ceremony and reception, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Especially the moment when you finally sealed your love with a kiss at the front of the altar, the sensation enough to drown the sounds of your guest’s cheering in front of you. 

And as the years passed, you only found yourself falling more and more for Jaehyun, the same excitement gracing your nerves every day you were to hold his gaze, to point a smile at him, and to press your lips against his. Even now, after becoming parents to two of the most beautiful children, another one on the way; even now, when the slightest of crow’s feet line the sides of your eyes, and the first inklings of gray hair are beginning to grow from his scalp; even now, when you’re so used to waking up to his calm face in the early mornings - you still find yourself falling ever the more in love with him.

Jaehyun chuckles slightly, the vibrations of his voice tickling the skin of your neck as he presses tender kisses against it, his hands slowly ghosting over the slight bump that began to protrude from your stomach’s form. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Jung.”

And as you stand there, relishing in the view of the beautiful golden sky whose ocean underneath casts a reflection that is enough to make your jaw drop as well as the warmth of the man whom you love and loves you just as dearly back, you feel an emotion that you haven’t felt in years; an emotion that you know will stay with you for a long time.

You are happy.

FIN.