#wonder woman reader insert
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a-fandom-reimagined · 1 year ago
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୨୧ PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK - REBLOG DON'T REPOST ୨୧
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“Please do not take this the wrong way, Y/N but you do not look long for this world.”
Diana leaned over you, her face a mask of worry and concern. For as long as she’d known you, you’d been a [blank] of vitality with a clean bill of health. And now some human ailment had reduced you to a pale, weak, feverish version of your former self. To say she was worried would have been an understatement.
You blinked bloodshot and blurry eyes at her. At first, thinking her appearance in your bedroom a happy hallucination. And then she laid that back of her hand against your brow. Her skin was cool and inviting. A soothing balm to the three-digit fever holding your body in it’s grip. You grinned. “You can say whatever you want as long as you keep your hand where it is.”
Diana shook her head but did as you asked until the fevered heat burned away the blissful cool. Diana switched hands. “You should have called someone, Y/N. A doctor…a friend.”
You waved off her concerns. “I’ll be fine,” you said. “I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself…I’ve been doing it forever. And anyway it’s only the flu. We humans get it all the time.”
“I know. I left my home and joined your human societies at the height of the influenza epidemic of 1918.”
You blinked. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”
Diana shook her head. And when your fevered brow swallowed up the cool, she moved about the room, picking up dirty dishes and emptying the overflowing trash can at your bedside.
You frowned at her. “What are you doing?”
“Taking care of you. I’ll be back with medicine and a cold compress,” she promised over her shoulder.
You didn’t know how to feel. Being taken care of, and looked after, was a luxury you’d never been rich enough to afford. Both in love and friendships as well as actual funds. It felt…strange. And a little burdensome.
Almost as quickly as she’d gone, Diana returned with more than she promised. In only a few moments she returned with a tray holding medicine, the compress, a thermometer, a steaming bowl of leftover soup from the fridge, and a tall glass of orange juice. She sat the tray down, told you to sit up, and started fluffing your pillows. All the while you were silent.
“You’re not a burden, Y/N.”
Your face heated. “I-I didn’t say—“
“You didn’t have to. I know you, my friend. I know your life has been hard. Just as I know that you feel as if asking for basic care and attention makes you feel as if you’re asking too much. You’re not.” Diana took you by the shoulders and laid you back against the pillows. “Let me do this for you.”
REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: ALWAYS OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | MASTERLIST
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iobsessoverfictionalmen · 7 months ago
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Enchanted Hearts (1)
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Warnings: manipulation, betrayal and mentions of insults.
“I can’t believe he’d treat me like this!” Hermione Granger raged as she stormed out of her biological father’s temple on Olympus with her fists clenched.
Try as she might, Hermione couldn’t think of any similarities that she shared with Ares. The god was brutish and cruel; he’d stood by, at her side mind you, as Hera sneered and mocked her.
A tinkling chime sounded from behind Hermione and the twelve year old whirled around to face whatever had made the noise. She came face to face with Aphrodite.
“Hermione, dear. Don’t frown - you’ll get wrinkles.”
Hermione glared at the goddess, “What do you want?” She spat. Right now, she didn’t want anything to do with any gods or goddesses. Especially if they were often romantically involved with Ares.
“You’re not the only one who is upset with Ares,” Aphrodite revealed. “He has been dismissive of me lately and that isn’t acceptable.”
“You’re planning something.”
“I am. I will need help to ensure my plan works.”
Hermione swallowed; she was still angry and hurt by Ares’ actions but she didn’t know what Aphrodite was planning. She knew that the goddess could be manipulative, cunning and vengeful. Did she really want to unleash a wrathful, destructive goddess on her father?
“This offer comes with a time limit dear.”
Hermione lifted her chin, threw caution to the wind and stared into the goddess’ multicoloured eyes, “I’m in.”
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animasola86 · 27 days ago
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LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH3
After Mommy has disciplined you with the cane, you feel the need to properly apologize to her, which was Daddy's idea, who promises you a reward if you do so.
soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader
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WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Pet names. Dom/sub undertones. Domestic discipline/caning. Cunnilingus. Tongue fucking. Cuntwarming? Vaginal fingering. Squirting. Subspace. Aftercare. Unprotected piv sex. Creampie. Cockwarming. (More notes under the cut!)
WORDS: 8.1k 🔷️ READ ON AO3 🔷️ 1–2–3–4–5–6
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A/N: This chapter is a direct continuation of Chapter 1 and a summary of the dynamic you can expect from the rest of the story: a love triangle with F/F and F/M and F/F/M intimacies. I will note what you can expect in each chapter (indicated by the color of the header image and by the different colors in the warning tags), but just remember that our Reader is bisexual/bi-curious, so we'll have a multitude of different sex scenes here. ⚠️Also warning: it starts a little rough, sorry. Speaking of: before you hate on Mommy in this chapter, remember: 1) this is an established (fictional!) BDSM relationship with implied established boundaries and rules, 2) she is a Domme, 3) she is human and can have bad days too, 4) this is fiction, 5) please keep reading, it'll all get resolved! This is a HURT and comfort story after all!
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Chapter 2 🔷️ Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4
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Several months later
You startle awake to loud voices. It takes you a long moment to realize where you are. In your bed, on your stomach. Mommy's voice in your ear, muffled, and suddenly you remember why your butt hurts so bad.
It's hazy, there were a lot of tears and pleading words, apologies and desperate cries, and it all started with a baking tray and flying cookies, the smell of burnt dough in the air, heat all around you, a stumble, a crash, herbs and soil raining to the ground.
It wouldn't even have been that bad if Mommy hadn't come into the kitchen at the exact moment you had lost your balance and dropped everything, your surprise for Daddy ruined as well as her precious herb garden. You knew Mommy cooked sometimes, but why she'd been so upset upon seeing the broken pot and plant, you had no idea.
But she was furious, screaming at you as you shrunk away. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” you cried, trying to clean up your mess, but all you did was make it worse. You even burned yourself on the hot sheet, destroyed the rest of the plant by stepping on it, and it was Mommy's flat hand on your cheek that brought you out of the headless panic and into a deep-rooted shock.
“Take a breath,” she ordered, staring at you. “And another. Okay? Good, then clean this up. Now.”
And you did, with shaking hands, but you somehow managed to scoop up burnt cookies, dirt and plant remnants, threw it all into the trash, then wiped the floor and washed the baking sheet. And Mommy watched, with her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes darker, her face a stoic angry mask. As soon as you were done, you looked at her, and couldn't help but shed a new batch of tears, and some more, until you were back into your hysterics, sobbing and apologizing.
“Go to your room,” she told you. “Wait for me.”
Through the tears, you nodded and shuffled away, barely making it up the stairs. You felt horrible, and her cold demeanor wasn't helping, it only made it worse. You knew that look of disappointment all too well, had seen it on your own mother many times. You were a failure, you knew it, you'd forgotten it for a while, distracted by Mommy and Daddy's care, but you remembered now.
You were a failure.
And you sat in your room and waited, crying soundlessly, your lips tingling, feeling numb and way too much all at the same time. She came to you ten minutes later, in her hand a thin wooden stick. You blinked, your breath hitching. You knew what it was, had seen it on her wall, had seen videos of it being used on others. And it scared you. A lot. She'd disciplined you before, but only with her hand, not with that thing.
“Mommy?” you whimpered, staring at her.
She only shook her head and pointed to the floor. “Take off your pants and underwear and kneel on the floor, head down, ass in the air. Come on, don't make me wait.” Her voice was harsh, and all you could do was follow her words.
But as you knelt there, waiting for your punishment, the panic came back full force. You were shaking so badly you could barely stay in your position. More of your own pathetic pleading and crying and whining noises filled your ears, your heart beating out of your chest, your throat tight, lungs burning. Mommy ignored you.
When the first blow hit your rear, you screamed and jolted away. “Stay where you are!” she said sternly. “And count with me, come on! One.”
“One...” you croaked out. The cane cut through the air again and met your soft flesh. “Two,” she said, and you repeated it barely able to speak. “You deserve this, don't you? It's for your own good. You need this. Embrace the pain, think about what happened,” she explained between hits, three, four, five, you were shuddering on the floor, sobbing helplessly into your folded arms as the pain crashed through you, every impact making you flinch badly.
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. She eased her blows a little as she talked between them, her voice strangely calm despite the relentless flick of her wrist. “You ruined something that was very dear to Mommy. I know it was an accident, but you were clumsy and careless. You could have hurt yourself as well. We can't have that.”
Ten, eleven, twelve. The thirteenth blow was particularly hard again, seemingly cutting into your skin, making you jerk forward with a pained yelp. “And you fell into old habits. We did not spend all that time trying to make you better if it only takes one stupid mistake to bring you back to square one.”
Fourteen, fifteen. You were a gasping mess on the floor, knees shaking so badly you could barely keep your weight on them. Sixteen, seventeen. Your whole body was aflame, your mind spinning, words repeating, every new hit adding to the already existing pain, and it wouldn't stop. You tried your best to breathe through it, like Mommy had taught you, but the thin wooden stick hurt more than you could have imagined. Your lungs ached with every sharp inhale. Eighteen, nineteen.
For the last one, she suddenly grabbed your hair and pulled you to your feet before she pressed you face-first into the wall, holding you by your nape. “Think about what you did and what you can do better. If you can't breathe through your attacks, I will use pain as a distraction again. Maybe it'll help you more than whatever Daddy does to you...” She paused, then said: “Twenty.”
The hit came with a sudden whoosh, and you screamed, jolting forward against the wall, legs shaking, your skin burning, tight and bruised and hurting. “Tw-twenty...” you croaked out, holding your breath, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down your face.
As her words echoed in your head, you had to give it to her: you were indeed distracted. The stinging pain spreading just beneath the inflamed skin of your buttocks was thrumming through you in an unrelenting fashion, scorching pulses that burned through any other concerns or thoughts or doubts, emptying your mind. You couldn't even pick up on the slight poke at Daddy's seemingly useless methods of helping you through your anxiety attacks. Nothing mattered: just the cleansing sharpness of Mommy's cane.
“Good. You took it like a big girl,” she said behind you, her hand easing down your back, hovering above your warm skin. “Better than I expected. Doesn't look too bad either. Now take a cold shower, it'll feel better.”
With that she exited your room, leaving you trembling. At least you'd stopped sobbing now. For a long moment, all you could do was lean against the wall, trying to calm your erratic heart. Your throat was dry, cold sweat made you shiver. Your focus was still on the burning welts on your skin, horribly pulsing streaks all across your butt cheeks. You remember them vividly as you'd eventually inspected them in the mirror.
The cold shower was another torture, but afterwards you did indeed feel better, clean, cleared of your doubts, knowing that Mommy was right. You needed and deserved every single hit for making such a mess, for breaking down about it. As cruel and cold as she had been, you saw reason in her actions. She had to know what she was doing, of course she did, she was your Mommy, she only wanted the best for you.
In her own way...
Looking back though, you have to agree with Daddy. It has been too much. 'That sounds a bit excessive for a simple act of clumsiness,' he'd said. It has been, but of course you hadn't told him everything. Not as detailed as you'd liked. The anxiety attack, the uncontrollable sobbing, the hysterics. The inevitable tumble into the dark abyss, unable to come back out on your own. Mommy's cleansing slap and those cane hits... they had helped, brought you back, but...
But it still has been too much. And it has been different too. Usually when she disciplines you (she always tries to avoid saying punishment because you're not being punished for being anxious but disciplined for falling back into old patterns and allowing the anxiety to control you again), when she uses pain as a distraction, she cuddles you after, tells you what a good girl you've been, makes sure you're okay, but that time... she has just left. Something has definitely fueled Mommy's anger.
Shifting under the covers, trying not to put pressure on your butt (though whatever Daddy has put on your skin did help a little), you listen a bit closer to the voices from across the hall (you shouldn't, but it's hard to ignore them too). They're loud, as is usually the case when Mommy fights with Daddy. She is the fiery one, while he is the calmer counterpart, though he can be angry too, and loud. This morning, they are both equally agitated.
“She was being hysterical!” Mommy screeches.
“And you think twenty fucking cane hits will help with that? That's not how we should deal with her anxiety!” Daddy says, more or less calmly, but you can hear the emotion in his voice through the walls.
“She was calmer after...”
“Of course she was! Because she was in pain!” He is getting louder.
And she is getting quieter, which only means she's getting more emotional. “She can handle it...”
“You overdid it. It was too much. Don't let your frustrations out on her...”
“I did not let my – Ugh! I can't do this right now...”
There's a pause, then a door opens and shuts with a bang. It opens again. Now the voices are directly in the hallway in front of your door. Daddy's voice is quieter.
“What's the real matter here, babe?”
“Nothing...” Mommy sounds defeated.
“You don't just snap like that. Tell me.”
“I just had a bad day, it happens...” You hear footsteps pacing the wooden floorboards.
“Not like that. What happened?”
“Nothing, it's fine. I'll apologize to her, okay?”
“Good. But I'm not done with you...” His tone changes, even quieter, softer, a little challenge behind the words. A smirk.
Mommy gives a soft laugh, a bit flat but there's the same smirk in her voice. “Later, papito...”
When one pair of footsteps leaves along the hallway, your door is being opened quietly. You press into the covers, pretending to sleep. Your mattress dips, a hand comes to rest on your hip.
“Rise and shine, pumpkin,” Daddy whispers, leaning over you to brush his lips against your temple, the only part of you peeking out from under the blanket.
You turn slightly, blinking your eyes open, giving him a tired smile. “Morning, Daddy,” you mumble. He smiles back and gives you another peck, slowly working his way down your face until he meets your lips. He's braced over you, hovering inches away, and you sigh softly into his kiss.
After he comforted you last night (by letting you come on his thigh), he'd washed you and himself with a warm wet cloth, then tucked you into bed and left, promising to talk to Mommy. He didn't seem to have gotten behind her unusual burst of anger, but you trusted him to dig deeper. All in good time.
“How do you feel?” he asks quietly, carefully rolling onto his side, cradling you in his arms.
“Better,” you whisper. Your butt still hurts, is tense and tight and throbbing, but it'll be okay. You're sure.
“Wanna make breakfast with me? I'll supervise, you work?” he mutters, nuzzling your neck. You nod with a soft giggle. “I think Mommy would like a nice smoothie. Should be easy enough, right?”
He helps you out of bed, picks a soft yellow sundress for you to wear (decides on a white lace thong that sits comfortably between your bruised ass cheeks), then brushes your hair and puts it into a long braid that falls down your back. He tells you to brush your teeth, and you do, and when you're done, he takes your hand and leads you down to the kitchen.
There he raids the fridge for fresh fruit and vegetables and gives them to you to chop up before he helps you pour it all into the blender with some oat milk. It's fun to do this with Daddy, standing next to him as he lets you hit the button, as you watch how everything turns into a rather unappealing green slush. After filling the thick drink into a tall glass, he puts a metal straw into it and holds it, then nods for you to follow him back up the stairs to Mommy's room.
Your heart beats faster when you approach the door. He stops and hands you the drink. “You can do this, pumpkin,” he tells you and leans down to kiss your cheek. “It'll be fine. Anyone can have a bad day, so we shouldn't hold a grudge, right?” You nod, looking up at him with a timid smile.
Then he raises his hand and knocks on the door. You flinch at the noise, inhaling sharply. “Come in,” you hear Mommy's voice through the wood.
Daddy gives you a gentle nudge, whispering “See you later, kiddo.”, and then you open the door and slip into her room. She's sitting at the large vanity, watching the door through the mirror, a brush in her hand, her long black hair cascading down her back.
“Good morning, Mommy,” you whisper a little intimidated. “I... I brought you breakfast...”
She turns around on her chair, watching you, before she gives you a soft smile. “Oh honey, that's so sweet of you, come here,” she says and holds out her hand.
You walk towards her, placing your hand onto her palm. She pulls you against her, taking the smoothie from your other hand and putting it down on the vanity. “Listen, sweetheart, Mommy is –”
“I'm sorry, Mommy,” you say at the same time, biting your lip. She smiles at you, her eyes crinkling softly.
“I know you are, baby girl,” she says. “But I am too. I shouldn't have disciplined you like that, it was too much. Mommy just had a bad day. I'm sorry for taking it out on you,” she adds quietly, wrapping her arms around you as she buries her face in your neck, inhaling deeply.
You hug her back, still a little stiff, perched between her legs. “I didn't mean to disappoint you,” you murmur into her.
She shushes you. “It's alright. Water under the bridge, okay?”
A hum escapes you, and for a moment you just stand there, holding her as she holds you, her warmth seeping into your stiff limbs. Eventually you take a deep breath, her sweet perfume filling your nostrils, before you tilt your head a bit to look at her.
“Mommy, I... I want to make you feel good, uh, better,” you say in a breathy whisper. “If you have time for it...”
She chuckles softly. “I always have time for you, sweet girl. Might be best to take the day off anyway.” She pauses, then sighs. “Well, I can stay home, but I have to work through my emails. But that shouldn't be an obstacle, right, kitten?” she whispers, then slowly leans you back fully and smirks at you.
You feel your cheeks burning up, already sensing a little throb in your core at the prospect of making her feel good. Her hands grab your waist and push you away gently, allowing her to stand up. You realize she's wearing a black silk robe (and only that), open in the front, giving you a good glance at her perfect breasts and her smooth mound. You force yourself to look up into her face.
“Come with me to my office,” she tells you and grabs your hand, taking the smoothie with the other, and then guides you into the adjacent room.
You've been here a few times before, usually perched under her desk, so the rest of the interior doesn't really matter to you. It's a bright room though, large windows, floor to ceiling, letting in the already warm rays of the morning sun. There are bookshelves lining one wall, and a wild array of other stuff in front of another. You always wondered what it is that Mommy does, aside from being a successful business woman and establishment owner.
She definitely has a lot of hobbies. There are mannequins, a sewing machine, an easel and a bunch of canvases stacked behind it. A low table with painting supplies. A camera in another high shelf next to large books probably filled with photographs. And then there's the corner you don't like to look at often, where the cane hangs from a hook, next to a flogger, a whip, a paddle and other tools like gags and harnesses and belts. Sleek black leather accentuated with wooden elements.
Mommy sure is a woman of many talents. But none of that matters to you now as she motions you to crawl under her desk, a large space made of a long wooden tabletop sitting on two drawer shelves, it's open enough to allow whoever enters the room to have a good view beneath. It's where you spent your time before, whenever she works from home and asks you to keep her company.
It's been a strange request at first, but seeing her relax due to your presence and ministrations is always something you're looking forward to. As you crawl under the table top, she puts the smoothie down next to her laptop and sits down in her chair. Despite her chaotic corner of numerous activities, her desk is surprisingly bare. No clutter, just a lamp, some pencils and a notepad, her laptop and phone on it.
You settle right in front of her, and she doesn't waste a second before she spreads her legs, her robe falling open even more as she gently guides you between them. Her warmth and scent radiates off her when you get closer to her center. She shifts on her chair, getting comfortable but allowing you to reach her just fine. Her hand remains on your head as she tilts it so you can rest your cheek on her thigh.
Looking up at her, you see her smiling, her eyes warm and already darker than usual. “You really wanna make me feel good, baby?” she whispers, watching you closely. You nod eagerly as you shift on your knees, the heels of your sock-clad feet poking into your rear. The pain and tightness of the welts is still there, but you can ignore them for now as you focus on the woman in front of you.
She leans back, opening her legs further, her hands resting casually on the armrests of her leather chair. Her eyes stay on you as you approach her core, your hands reaching up to caress her inner thighs. You hold her gaze, your face already flushed from what lies ahead. Swallowing the excess saliva gathering on your tongue (your oral fixation flaring up), you lean in and up and press your lips to her flat stomach, slowly working your way lower.
She's calm, watching you closely, and eventually you break eye contact and close your eyes, focusing on kissing along her pelvis and down her smooth mound, going by feel and warmth alone. Your hands move around her waist as you settle between her legs, holding onto her as you bury your face in her sex. There's a slight shiver when your tongue teases along her slit, your lips brushing against hers, so soft and warm.
You pepper her labia with kisses, tilting your head slightly before you ease your tongue between them, dipping into her slick. Breathing into her, her scent filling your nostrils, you feel more little twitches, her thighs pressing slightly against your sides. You retrieve your arms and rub your palms against them, noticing the hint of goosebumps on her skin as you continue licking up and around her lower lips.
When you press your tongue against her hooded clit, she gives a soft little moan, enough encouragement to keep going, to dig deeper, to kiss and lick and nibble on her soft flesh until you feel her clit throbbing against your lips. You keep your focus on the sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking your tongue against it, closing your mouth around it, sucking it hard, and she grows more vocal, her hips jerking against your face.
She taught you early on how to properly satisfy a woman, not always on herself, teaching you about your own body as well. As awkward and embarrassing as it had been in the beginning, you are grateful to know what you know now, and you find pride in being able to get her off this easily. It only takes a few concentrated licks and nibbles, a bit of teeth grazing and a pointed tongue prod, and she is shaking in her seat, thrashing her head back as she claws at the armrests, loud moans echoing through the room.
Her first orgasm comes in waves, twitches of her thighs, her cunt pulsing against your chin as you keep sucking on her clit. You look up then, watching her come undone in front of you, under your ministrations. It sends deep shudders down your own body, settling low in your stomach, a throb to your own clit as you stimulate Mommy's.
You keep going, because she'd usually tell you when to stop, and it takes more than one orgasm for her to be fully satisfied. With your hands rubbing over her trembling legs, your mouth suctioned to her throbbing clit, you watch her, waiting for any indication, any hint of what she wants now. She's breathing harder when she meets your gaze, red spots on her cheeks, her bare chest rising and falling faster.
One of her hands moves down to your head, caressing your hair, playing with the braid. She doesn't say anything, just gives the tiniest of nudges, and you follow the hint and move from her clit down to her slit. She's a lot wetter now, and you lap up every drop you come across, savoring the sweet taste as you move your tongue between her labia, teasing at her entrance, the little flutter to her cunt not going by unnoticed.
You take long strokes from her hole to her sensitive bud, filling your mouth with her taste and essence, feeling her clit thrum and her cunt clench. Tilting your head down, closing your eyes, you press firmer against her, her labia enveloping your cheeks as you push the tip of your tongue against her entrance. She mewls softly, the hand in your hair tightening, as you start pushing your tongue in and out in quick succession, moving the muscle up and down, creating obscene squelching and slurping sounds that ring loudly in your ears, a motion she's taught you, shown you, done to you so many times.
You feel the drop of your own arousal in your underwear, your body tensing as you focus on the reactions of hers. With your tongue buried in her pulsing pussy, you use your nose to push against her clit in a steady rhythm, your whole face warm and wet by now as she clenches around you. Your hands curl around her legs, trying to hold them open, but she's twitching so hard you feel the tremors against the sides of your head as she tries to close her thighs around it.
It doesn't matter, you're in too deep, literally, only focused on her pleasure, her pleasure giving you pleasure, she could smother you right that instant and you wouldn't mind. Your head is blissfully empty, all you feel and taste and see and hear is her. She's getting louder, shifting on her chair, grinding her pelvis against your face as she fucks herself on your tongue, harder, faster, a desperate little dance you volunteered for.
And when she comes, she throws herself back into the chair, gasping breathlessly, her whole body spasming against you, thighs tight against your ears, taking another sense from you as you almost drown in her juices. Her cunt clenches hard around your working muscle, and you slowly pull your tongue out when she relaxes, lapping up what she gave you. You savor the little twitches, the uncontrollable jerks of her hips, the deep exhales from above you.
As you're still licking at her slit, she moves her hands to brush stray hairs out of her damp forehead. You look up at her, lips closed around her clit, when she smiles at you. “Well done, sweet girl, thank you,” she whispers, her voice hoarse and raspy, the low cadence sending shivers down your spine. “That's enough for now.”
You lean back almost reluctantly, licking your wet lips, blinking your clumped eyelashes apart. You feel her hand wiping at your face, her thumb pressing into your mouth. You give it a tentative suck, your eyes on her. She looks calm again, relaxed, serene.
“Mommy's gotta work now,” she tells you, pushing her thumb harder onto your tongue. “Do you wanna stay with me while I do?”
You don't even hesitate when you nod, your hands finding her wrist as you suck on her thumb, the motion pulling you deeper into the safe space you enjoy so much.
“Do you want a toy to play with?” she asks, your mind momentarily wandering to the lowest drawer of her desk, filled with vibrators and dildos and smaller items to entertain you (and her). It's a tempting thought, but you shake your head, hollowing your cheeks as you give her digit another deep suckle.
She chuckles softly. “But I do need my hand, sweet pea,” she says with a raised eyebrow and a wink.
You blink at her, your mind too empty to comprehend her words. She caresses your face, then slowly withdraws her thumb. You're at least alert enough to lick up the excess drool dripping from your now unoccupied lips. Swallowing hard, you look at her, but she already knows the empty gaze you shoot her and guides your head back between her legs.
“Keep me warm and wet, hmm, baby girl? Can you do that?” she says softly, and you nod, already pressing your lips against her throbbing clit. “But don't make me come. I gotta concentrate.”
“Okay, Mommy,” you mumble against her, leaning your cheek against her thigh as you inhale deeply, taking in her scent. She closes her legs a little around you, caging you in, holding you tightly, and you melt into her, eyes fluttering closed.
“Good girl,” she says, patting your head before she shifts on her chair one last time. Her praise almost drowns out the quiet noises of her fingers flying over the keyboard as she starts working.
You relax into her, sitting on your knees, the hurt on your butt forgotten, the drying wetness on your face ignored, the tingle between your own legs unimportant. Occasionally you give her labia a few kisses or a gentle suck, licking up along her seam, but as your mind grows silent, you slip more and more into what Mommy and Daddy call subspace, a state of mind where there are no worries, where you're not anxious, where nothing matters but the warmth of the person next to you.
It's a peaceful place where you lose all sense of time. Snuggling into Mommy's cunt or suckling on Daddy's cock, no matter where or how or when, it's your personal reward for making them feel good, for allowing yourself to let go, an escape you wished you'd known about sooner. But now you do, and it's enough. A beautiful, blissful void, and you're floating, weightless, soft breaths and a steady heartbeat, sunken into yourself.
How you come out of it is usually a blur. A gentle caress to your cheek, a little nudge, some sort of physical touch that grounds you back to the place you've initially drifted off in. A deep exhale against warm skin, your cheek pressed between wet flesh, your own thumb wet and numb between your tight lips. Your eyelids flutter when you feel another caress, nimble fingers digging into your hair, soft presses to your scalp, a soothing little hum you slowly recognize as Mommy's voice.
“Wake up, mi amor,” she whispers from above you, her accent an extra vibration through your skull.
You inhale deeply, smacking your lips, or trying to, slowly lowering your hand as you blink your eyes open. Mommy's cunt is right there, soft and sleek, and it's an instinct to raise your hand again and caress her puffy labia.
“No need, sweet cheeks,” she tells you, but you keep pushing your fingers up and down her mound, head resting against her thigh, watching the lazy movements of your digits.
Mommy sighs loudly, but doesn't do anything to stop you after all. So you continue, dip your fingertips into her slick, teasing at her clit, as she relaxes into her chair, her hand stroking the side of your head. You rub and caress, prod and poke, eventually pushing a finger into her entrance, feeling the tight clench of her walls. Her soft mewls sound in your ears, when a sudden knock disrupts the peace, making you blink and realize you're knuckles-deep in Mommy's cunt.
Mommy just issues a noise akin to a sigh or groan, and the door to her office opens. You remain focused on her, plunging your digit in and out, curling it slightly, rubbing the pad of your finger along her squishy flesh until you feel her twitching against you.
“Is she still at it?” Daddy's voice sounds from somewhere behind you.
“She just came back,” Mommy whispers, her voice just a deep breath. “You know how she gets after, the insatiable little thing...”
You don't really register what they're saying, doesn't matter, all you see and feel and smell is Mommy. You add another finger and continue your motions, pushing in slightly faster, slightly deeper, pressing harder against her sensitive spots. She shifts in her seat, her hips bucking against your hand, her breaths more labored.
Footsteps round the desk, and as you blink against your haze, you notice Daddy's head next to Mommy's. He winks at you before he presses his lips to her cheek. She turns her head and uses her free hand to grab his nape, keeping him bent over to capture his mouth for a deeper kiss. “So you like me again, hm?” Daddy hums against her, and instead of answering him, she just kisses him harder.
You watch them as you finger Mommy, her wetness rivaling your own as they continue to make out. You squirm on your knees, chewing on your swollen lip, your fingers moving in and out of Mommy's clenching hole, and fueled by their soft groans and moans, you dive in again and close your lips around that throbbing bundle of nerves in front of you.
Mommy gasps, jerking against your face, and you keep watching her from under your lashes. Daddy holds her face while propped onto one arm, resting on the table above you. The way their lips and tongues meet is a sensual dance you enjoy watching more and more (which wasn't always the case). Now it only arouses you more, seeing them so intimate.
With your mouth tight around Mommy's clit and your fingers deep in her spasming cunt, you shift on your knees until you can press the heel of your foot against your own throbbing core, the sudden sensation making you moan softly. You keep a steady rhythm, dipping your fingers in and out, sucking on her clit, rubbing yourself against your foot, feeling how your arousal drenches the fabric of your panties, creating a delicious friction that makes your empty head spin.
You come at the same time as Mommy, though while your orgasm rolls through you like a gentle wave, hers is a ravaging waterfall, cascading down with power, and as you keep pumping your fingers into her, her cunt convulses, spraying you with jerky jets of her essence as she moans loudly above you, barely contained by Daddy's mouth, and even though you were quite irritated the first time she's squirted right into your face, you barely flinch now, lowering your mouth to lick up everything you can catch.
She shudders on the chair, slowly relaxing, and it's Daddy who appears next to you as he pulls you away from her quivering core. Her chair rolls away, and he kneels beside you, wiping a cloth over your drenched face.
“Well done, pumpkin,” he says softly, smiling at you. You blink your eyes into focus, your lips trembling without Mommy's warmth against them. “I think Mommy feels a lot better now, don't you, babe?”
A soft groan sounds from behind him in response. “Oh yeah...” she sighs.
“You earned yourself a reward, baby girl,” Daddy whispers, as he helps you crawl out from under the desk.
When you stand, he has to hold you, because your legs feel numb and tingling, fallen asleep from sitting on them for so long. The aftershocks of your own orgasm definitely add to the little unsteadiness as well. His hands cup your warm face as he looks down at you. You still feel like floating, head too empty to fully focus on him or the change of position.
A slurping sound echoes in your ears, and when you look past him, you see Mommy closing her lips around the straw in her smoothie. She winks at you when you meet her hooded gaze. Slowly you come back to yourself, a soothing warmth flooding your limbs and core. Daddy pulls you to the side, and you notice him sitting down on the edge of the wide desk, his hands on your waist as he nudges you between his legs.
“You with me, pumpkin?” he says softly, tilting his head.
You look up at him, your hands resting on his strong thighs. “Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, giving him a timid smile.
“My good girl.”
He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your cheek, before you tilt your chin up a bit more to meet his lips. As he moves his tongue against yours, slowly, sensually, you feel a presence behind you. Mommy's hands rub up and down your back, smoothing out your dress, before they disappear under the hem, and you gasp against Daddy's mouth when you feel her fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties.
She pulls them down slowly, crouching behind you, and you lift your feet automatically to step out of them. “Hmm, you enjoyed yourself already, didn't you, sweet girl?” she muses, leaning against you after she's straightened up again, her firm breasts pressing against your back.
Without breaking your kiss with Daddy, you move your eyes to see her dangling your drenched underwear on her finger. Heat crashes into your cheeks, slowly seeping down your body, and the arousal that's been draining into the bit of fabric of your thong, now drips out of you unrestrained. A garbled mewl escapes you as you rub your thighs together and squirm on the spot.
“Oh don't worry, darling, Daddy's gonna take care of the little itch, hmm, won't you, papito?”
Her voice is silky smooth in your ear, letting your eyelids flutter as your tongue wrestles softly with Daddy's. He watches you out of hooded eyes, his grip on you firm and strong, unrelenting. With Mommy still pressed against your back, sandwiched between them as you are, you feel her hands rubbing down your arms before she guides your hands between Daddy's legs, right to the not-so-subtle bulge in his pants.
He finally breaks the kiss, moves his lips along your cheek to your ear, his beard scratching along your soft skin, causing you to take a shuddering breath as you fill your lungs with air again. “Are you ready for me, pumpkin?” he breathes against the shell of your ear, his lips warm and wet, his breath even warmer. You shiver, and before you can answer, Mommy's hand slips around your front and down between your tight thighs, dipping right into your slick.
“Oh she's ready alright...”
“I've been asking her,” he says sternly, still nuzzling your neck, but clearly addressing Mommy, who sighs loudly and pulls her hand back.
You turn your head to look at him, biting your swollen lip, before you nod.
“Say it,” he whispers, meeting your eyes.
“I'm ready for you, Daddy,” you reply quietly. He raises an eyebrow.
You blush deeply, knowing what he wants to hear. Swallowing hard, you look down to where your hand is resting on his groin. “I'm... ready for your...” Another deep inhale, that flicker of shame rolling through your mind before you push it away again. “Your cock,” you whisper.
You look up at him, but he still watches you with a certain expectation, his eyes dark, his jaw set.
“I'm ready for your cock, Daddy,” you say again, still quiet, but it's finally enough for him. A smile breaks on his handsome face, and he leans in to kiss your cheek.
“Good girl,” he says softly. “Do you think I'm ready for you too?”
You give his bulge a little squeeze, feeling the hardness beneath the fabric. “Yes, I think so,” you whisper.
“Let's find out, hm?”
He gives you a wink, and you start unbuckling his belt, then fumble with the button and zipper of his pants. Mommy is there, leaning in from behind you, helping with the task. Daddy stands for a moment and lets his two women pull his pants and underwear down his long legs before he sits down on the edge of the desk again. Mommy leaves you as she gathers his clothes on the back of her chair.
You look up at his face instead of at his angrily bobbing cock, mesmerized by the hunger in his eyes. His hands tighten around your waist, and in the next moment he lifts you effortlessly, and you end up straddling his lap, knees on either side of his hips, legs spread (almost) impossibly wide over his thighs, your crotch pressed tightly against his. Your hands find his shoulders as you adjust on his lap.
“Dress off?” you hear Mommy's voice from behind you.
“Hmm, what do you think, baby girl? Do you want Daddy to see how you bounce on his cock? How your little cunt swallows every inch of him?”
You inhale sharply, deep shivers crashing through you as he talks like this. “Yes,” you breathe out, and as soon as you do, Mommy's hands are there to pull the sundress over your head. Without it, you are left completely naked because he's (deliberately) forgotten to put a bra on you this morning. A tingle goes through you.
You shift on his lap, fingers curling around his broad shoulders again. He watches you, his hands rubbing along your sides before he puts them large and warm and heavy on your waist, his long fingers almost teasing your spine while his thumbs rub over your fluttering stomach. Behind you, another set of hands eases along your thighs back to your rear, and when Mommy touches the welts on your ass cheeks, you feel her lips brushing against your shoulder.
“I'm sorry, mi amor,” she coos. “I thought it wouldn't look so bad. Does it still hurt?”
You meet Daddy's gaze before you turn your head and try to look at her out of the corner of your eye. “It's okay, Mommy, it's already feeling better.”
“My brave little girl,” she whispers, planting more kisses along your back while her hands fully cup your ass now, the pressure sending jolts of pain through you but you force them down, try to ignore them as you bite your lip and take a shuddering breath.
“Look at me, pumpkin,” Daddy orders, and you do, stiffening on his lap. “This is for you,” he starts, his hands holding onto your waist as Mommy lifts your hips until you hover just above Daddy's cock. “You take what you need from me, okay? You decide the pace. Me and Mommy will do anything to take care of you.”
You smile softly at him, bracing on your knees, your thighs trembling slightly, your hands digging into his shoulders. “Thank you, Daddy,” you whisper.
“Thank you, sweetheart, for being such a good little girl for us,” he replies, tilting his head as you squirm slightly on top of him, the tip of his cock brushing between your labia as you do so.
Before you can fully focus on indulging him (or letting him indulge you?), a last speck of doubt crashes into your mind. You blink at him, lips trembling, opening your mouth to protest, knowing you haven't been a good girl at all yesterday and have the marks to prove it, but he shakes his head, his dark eyes so intense any words dissipate right off your tongue. You close your mouth and swallow, nodding slightly.
And then you concentrate on him, looking down as one of your hands moves to close around his shaft as you guide him towards your entrance. It's taken you many months to get accustomed to his length and girth, a lot of training, a lot of tears, but by now you know that your body can handle him. Inhaling deeply, relaxing while also bracing yourself, you shift your hips (with Mommy's assistance) and lower yourself slowly, his tip pressing in, and with a sharp gasp you feel him slipping deeper.
They both guide you as you take it slow, steady up and down movements to ease him into you, small rolls of your hips, Mommy holding you from behind, Daddy's hands tight around your waist. He watches you, you can feel it as you focus on where his cock vanishes inside you. The strain and pressure is still a bit painful, especially since you let gravity do most of the work, but once he's settled deep in your core, filling you out completely, his tip pushing right against your cervix, you exhale a shaky breath and look up, seeing him smiling at you.
Mommy wraps her arms around your stomach, her warm cheek between your shoulder blades, allowing Daddy to cup your face and pull you closer. “Look at you,” he coos softly, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “How wonderful you fit around Daddy's cock. You were made for this, pumpkin. Made for me. My perfect little girl.”
You close your eyes, breathing against the tightness building low in your belly, your hands moving back up to his shoulders before you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook of it. You focus on the way he smells, how his large hands cradle your head against him, how Mommy clings to you, their warmth all-consuming. And the way his cock sits inside you, warm and hard and pulsing, how another kind of heat throbs through your straining ass cheeks.
And you realize it is all meant to be. You are meant to have relapses, you are meant to be anxious sometimes, you are meant to disappoint them, it's only human to do so. What matters in the end is that they still love you, still care about you, still treat you like their little girl. They'll continue to discipline you, push you further and further out of your comfort zone, and it will only make you stronger.
As you start moving on top of Daddy, leaning back, facing him, using his shoulders as leverage to bounce slowly up and down, you can't believe how lucky you are to have found these people (or for them to have found you). All they ever did was take care of you, in a way nobody has ever cared for you before.
Warmth spreads inside you with every slam against his hips, your walls pulsing around him, your breaths hitching, your heart beating faster. Mommy guides you, Daddy holds you, their soft words of praise and encouragement like lullabies in your ears, your own mewls and moans leaving your trembling lips in rapid little puffs of air.
Your thighs are shivering under the strain, but it's easier with Mommy's hands under your rear, pushing you up gently, while Daddy moves you down again, every bounce going deep, filling and all-consuming, and soon you find yourself floating, the friction, the steady pain/pleasure mixture, the warmth and strength of their grips, it all adds to the flickering lights, and when they suddenly all explode into a million smaller lights, you throw your head back, letting out a drawn-out moan, a deep shiver, stiffening for a second before your body starts shaking badly as your orgasm crashes through you.
You slump against Daddy's chest, arms around his neck, your hips jerking against him, and now it's up to him to keep going. His arms are tight around your back as he shifts on the edge of the desk, Mommy's hands move around your front, rubbing down your fluttering belly before you feel her fingertips drawing tight circles around your clit. You come again, with another croaked moan, spasming against Daddy as he starts thrusting up in a steady rhythm that accelerates quickly.
Sandwiched as you are, you can only take it, and you do, it's what you do after all, you are theirs to play with, and it gives you strength and pride, a safety you need to keep your mind empty and your thoughts clear of doubts. Whimpering softly as Daddy hammers his cock into your convulsing cunt while Mommy practically bullies your clit, you slip from pleasure into bliss and back, always floating, wave after wave of soothing sensations rolling through your trembling body.
Low grunts fill your ears, Daddy's deep voice vibrating through you as he suddenly stills, holding you tighter, throbbing deep inside you before he empties his balls into your quivering depths. You gasp into his neck, feeling every twitch of his cock, knowing he's painting your walls with thick ropes of his cum. You relax into him as he relaxes beneath you, his warm breaths playing with stray strands of your hair.
You rub his back as Mommy rubs yours. For a long moment you just sit on his cock until it stops throbbing and softens slightly, the only sounds your rapid pulse in your ears and your combined breaths, before it's Mommy, who brings you back to reality. “Thanks for the show, you two,” she says as she walks around you. “I think I need a cold shower now.” You feel her hand rubbing along your ass cheek before she gives it a soft slap.
You jerk against Daddy, who groans, unfolding his arms from around you to lean them onto the table beside him. He inhales deeply, and slowly you lean back too, looking at him, knowing you probably look as disheveled as you feel. He smirks at you, moving one hand to brush a few hairs out of your sweat-slick forehead.
It hasn't always been this easy to let go and look the part and not be ashamed about it, but you learned to ignore it and enjoy the moment instead, the aftermath, the soft caresses and soothing words and gentle smiles enough to distract you. You lean in and press a kiss to his bearded cheek, savoring the scratch against your lips and the little hum he issues at the touch. He cups your face, thumb under your chin, and guides your head to meet his mouth for a proper kiss.
“Are you okay, pumpkin?” he whispers against your lips, his hooded eyes boring into yours.
You nod, leaning into him, shifting on his lap. “Yes, Daddy, never better,” you breathe, moving in again, and he lets you, a smirk playing around his lips.
You haven't always been as confident with him (or Mommy) as you are now. It's been a long, winding road, over potholes and embarrassment, around bends and back in a loop towards old patterns, up steep hills and down rough slopes, through shame and discipline, hurt and comfort. A journey that started in darkness, before these two people showed you just how bright life could be.
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Chapter 2 🔷️ Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4
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End notes: For now, this marks the end of the present-timeline, which was just a peek at what's possible within the confines of this story. Starting with the next chapter, we will continue the backstory arc, and Reader's journey into the world of BDSM and specifically Dd/Md/lg dynamics.
Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!
Up next: After you agreed to be their little girl, you're starting your first day in your new life. Surprises await!
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MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS
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supercap2319 · 1 year ago
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Bucky prepared for the young woman in the black mask to strike him in the face once again, but before she could, a golden, glowing lasso wrapped itself around her and she was pulled back. She was swung to the other truck and hit the top of it.
The people who held Bucky by his arms turn to look as a young man dressed in red armor body and knee-high dark red boots. He put the lasso at his side and gave Bucky a lopsided grin. "Looks like you boys could use some help."
Bucky gave an annoyed huff as the guy in the armor leaped up and kicked one of Bucky's captors in the chest. The Winter Soldier then kicked the other in the knee and punched him in the face before squaring up to the young man. "What are you doing here, Y/N?"
"I got a call from Watchtower. Said there was a hostage situation. Looks like you and Sam are in over your heads."
"Look, just because your mother is Wonder Woman doesn't mean you get to–"
They were interrupted as a bunch more people in black masks leaped onto their side of the truck. Bucky gave Y/N a nod. "We're not done talking about this, Doll."
"Certainly not." Y/N smiled as they charged towards the people in black masks.
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noforkingclue · 9 months ago
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Wonder Woman Masterlist
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Requests
Just a Coincidence?
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knuiui · 2 months ago
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hi I'm back again w my what ifs... :) last one I promise then I'll write abt the other one (I got swarmed with so many rehearsals ToT)
what if..
what if a Neglected! Reader that suddenly found herself in a whole new batfam..? Like crossing an alternate universe type shit.
imagine reader being a child of Bruce to a random woman who decided to drop the child in a basket, in front of the Wayne manor. Alfred of course the angelnot that he is, takes the child. not before confirming reader is bruce's
so basically the standard reader grew up alone and invisible in the Wayne manor for 13 years, then suddenly one night a mysterious girl drops by and takes them somewhere else. wink wink;)
now this different universe acts the same except.. reader doesn't exist here, there's not an ounce of evidence that reader exist in this one. basically like the canon batfam without self inserts or think batman: wayne family adventures
so of course reader expects it to be the same as their own universe yet, they didn't expect their family is actually.. nice. Think of it, Bruce has time for them, in fact he actively interacts w reader he pushes all his paperworks on tim, Dick appears immediately when they call for him, Jason likes being around them as they read together, Tim doesn't mind their presence when they tag along at the office- in fact he likes the company, Barbara appreciates that someone brings her tea to de-stress, Stephanie drags reader out to wherever to shop and hang out, Cass likes to watch movies with them, Duke smiles so darn brightly after being praised by reader on passing his quiz and Damian, oh sweet Damian doesn't mind having an older siblings that would like to just sit in peace while he draws whatever he wants, he just wants to spend time soaking in his older siblings presence. so basically this is the batfam universe where they're not assholes lmao
reader badly want to stay sadly, they can only drop by because if they stay any longer their soul will glitch out think spiderman into the spider verse style , so begrudgingly they have to return to the cold Wayne Manor of their own universe.
reader thinks their life is now finally falling to pieces however suddenly their 'neglectful' family suddenly starts behaving a little.. obssesive.. wonder what happened?
teehee.
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killiaia · 1 month ago
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PHOTO SHOOT.
Rosé x male reader.
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When Rosé asked you to accompany her to her photo shoot, you immediately agreed. You're happy she asked you.
Of course, you feel out of place in the middle of it all, but when Rosé flashes you a smile between photos, you're right at home.
Rosé is absolutely gorgeous. The photos are superb and Rose was definitely born for this kind of thing. It's natural for her to pose. You wouldn't be able to do all that, it would be far too embarrassing.
What's also embarrassing is the fact that you have a boner. Which is perfectly normal when you see the kind of clothes Rosé poses in. Everything she's got on is tight. The clothes she's wearing are tight, and that makes her curves stand out.
You're trying hard to hide the fact that you've got a hard-on, but of course you've got tight jeans on, which makes your dick stand out.
It would be a shame if anyone saw that. What would you look like?
But that's your body reacting like that. Rosé is beautiful and your dick thinks so too.
You do everything to hide it. You put your hands in front but it doesn't feel natural. You try to hide behind things but every time you're asked to leave. You can't sit down and cross your legs, the jeans are too tight.
You watch Rosé go off to change and you wait. But you think the Lord wanted to test you today.
A few minutes later Rosé emerges and your eyes widen. Rosé is dressed in a pink top, but it's the mini shorts that make your mouth drop open. More precisely, what's underneath the shorts.
Rosé spins around and you notice that her buttocks are sticking out of the shorts.
God, Rosé looks sexy in those. If she'd worn those just for you, you'd have fucked her so hard.
And that's when it's hard for you. Rosé carries on with her photo shoot as if nothing had happened, while you're having a hard time of it.
When Rosé leans forward a little and her buttocks stick out, you're forced to bite your fist. You reach a point where you look away.
When the photographer announces the end of the photo shoot, you almost cry.
Happily, Rosé comes over to you. Before you know it, it's just the two of you and Rose has reached your full height.
"Did you like it? "Rosé asks you innocently.
With a wave of your finger, you ask her to come forward. Rosé listens, but you can see she's wondering.
“Give me your hand. "
Rosé holds out her hand and you grab it. You can see she's lost. You put her hand on your cock and Rose's eyes widen.
"Does that answer your question? "
Reddened cheeks, you see Rosé flash a sexy smile. The young woman turns her back to you and what she's doing almost makes you moan.
Rosé leans forward, giving you a magnificent view of her ass. Rosé spreads her shorts with her hand and it's a good thing you've got self-control, otherwise you'd have fucked her right here.
However, you grab her hips and pull her to you. Rosé straightens up and you attack her neck with a kiss. You run your hands over and knead both her breasts. Rosé moans but you silence the moan by turning her face and kissing her. Rosé sticks her buttocks to your cock as you kiss her.
"I feel your cock against me.
"I want to fuck you. "
“Do it. Fuck me. "
You run your hand down to her shorts and trace the folds of her pussy.
"You're so fucking wet."
"Just for you. "
With your other hand you turn her face and kiss her while you insert a finger into her pussy. Rosé moans into your mouth and you feel her hand caress your cock through your jeans.
"If it were up to me, I'd have fucked you from the start of this photo shoot. “
Rosé grabs your face and deepens the kiss as you insert a second finger inside her. You accentuate the pleasure by kneading one of her breasts. Between your fingers you grab her nipple and pinch lightly. Rosé clings to you, seeking the friction between her ass and your cock.
"You're going to cum here and then we'll go to your dressing room and I'll fuck you in these shorts. "
Rosé wants to say something but you insert your fingers into his mouth. Rosé licks your fingers and you concentrate on fingering the singer's pussy.
Rosé tries to mumble something like "I'm going to come" but you don't care. You continue to pleasure her and after a few seconds your fingers are expelled from her vagina and Rosé lets out a hoarse moan. You grab her and carry her so she doesn't fall over from the orgasm and Rose puts her hands around your neck and trembles.
"Good girl. Kiss me."
Rosé raises her head and kisses you.
"Now let's go to your dressing room and I'll fuck you."
"Please. "Rosé says gently.
Still with Rosé in your arms, you walk towards the singer's dressing room. Rosé takes the opportunity to kiss your neck.
You open the door and gently put Rosé back down.
"Hands on the wall, I'm going to eat your pussy"
Rosé lets out a groan and moves into position. She places her hands on the wall and arches her back slightly, giving you a magnificent view.
You lick your lips and come up behind her. You glue your pelvis to her buttocks and Rosé immediately looks for friction.
With your hand, you knead her buttocks, which peek out from the shorts. You kiss Rosé on the neck and she turns to kiss you. You respond to her request and kiss her. Rosé inserts her tongue into your mouth and you accentuate the pressure on her buttocks with your hand. With your fingers, you pull her shorts apart and begin to touch her pussy. You stifle a moan from Rosé and insert a finger inside her.
After one last kiss, you kneel behind her. You push aside her shorts and the sight of her ass makes your mouth water.
Her pussy looks so good you waste no time and with your hands, you spread her buttocks and lick her pussy
"Fuck yes." Rosé swears.
With your tongue you trace the lines of her pussy. You lick her folds and hear Rosé moan. You flick Rosé's vagina with your tongue and Rosé flicks her pelvis to increase the pressure. With both hands you grab her bottom and insert your tongue into her pussy hole. Rosé has to catch herself on the wall, it's so good.
"I love it so much when you eat my pussy",
"Your pussy is so wet. "
You run your hand along the front and find Rosé's clitoris. Gently you put pressure on it and Rosé lets out a moan.
With your tongue in her pussy hole and her clit between your fingers, the young singer is just a mess.
You feast on her pussy. You don't stop. You have only one goal in mind: to make Rosé cum. Rosé is almost pressed up against the wall by the pressure you're putting on.
But it doesn't bother her, on the contrary, Rosé is so happy. When you withdraw into your tongue, Rosé wants to protest but her protest dies in her mouth when you insert two fingers into her pussy.
"Yes baby. Finger me."
You listen to your girlfriend and speed up the pace of your fingers and Rosé slams her head against the wall and spreads her ass.
"Can you lick my asshole while you finger me? "
You accede to your girlfriend's request and start licking her hole.
"I'm about to cum. "
Youfeel Rosé tremble and you stand up to catch her.
You press her against you and Rose trembles against your chest.
"What a good girl. "
Rosé turns to you and kisses you passionately. She grabs your face and slides her tongue into your mouth. With your hands, you knead her buttocks and Rosé lets out a moan into your mouth.
"Hands against the wall. I'm going to fuck you. "
After one last kiss, Rosé turns around and resumes the same position as before. You see that the young woman wants to take off her shorts but you stop her.
"Keep the shorts on. "
Rosé nods and you undo your belt and pants. Your erection is finally free.
With one of your hands, you spread the shorts and with your other hand you guide your cock to her pussy.
You tease Rosé. With your cock you trace the lines of her pussy.
" Baby don't tease me. Just fuck me. "
“You've been teasing me all afternoon. I'm entitled to a little fun, aren't I? "
You slide your cock between her thighs and Rosé moans at the contact.
"A Tightjob? " Rosé asks sensually.
"Why not. "
Rosé listens to you and starts going through the motions. The sensation is too good. You watch your cock disappear between Rosé's thighs.
You also feel her pussy juices against your cock
. "My cock is so wet. It looks like you're enjoying it just as much as I am. "
Rosé doesn't respond, she's far too focused on her task.
With your hands, you grab Rosé's hips and help her make the move.
Rosé's buttocks slap against you and you decide to kiss the young woman on the neck, causing her to moan.
"Put your cock inside me. "Begs Rosé.
"Why? I'm fine between your thighs." You answer slyly.
" Because I want you to fuck me against the wall like the slut I am in these shorts and then I want you to fill me with cum. "
You stop all movements and Rosé may have said something stupid. She wants to say something but you've just penetrated her and Rosé has to hold on to the wall so she doesn't fall.
You've entered her like an animal. Rosé's words have been like an aphrodisiac, and all you can think about right now is fucking Rosé.
And that's what you're doing. All you hear is the sound of flesh against flesh and Rosé's cries of pleasure.
Her hips in your hands, you pound the singer's ass.
"You fuck me so good…”
With one of your hands, you slap her ass, garnering a cry of pleasure from the singer.
"Fuck, I really am your bitch. I'm so addicted to your cock. "
Rosé lets out a little cry of surprise as you grab her and place her still on all fours, but this time in front of the mirrors.
With your hand, you grab her hair and force her to always straighten your cock inside her.
"Look at yourself in the mirror. Look how beautiful you are when you take my cock. "
Rosé looks at you both in the mirror and the sight is erotic. With your other hand, you pull out one of her breasts and Rosé moans at the sight.
"Look at your beautiful breasts."
You turn her on her side and tell her to look at the mirror. With this view Rosé sees you penetrate her.
"Look at that, Rosé. Look how easily my cock enters you. Your pussy was made for my cock. "
“I'm going to cum! "Said Rosé.
"Oh but I'm counting on it yes. You're going to cum on my cock and then I'm going to fill you up so much. "
Rosé, holding herself with one hand on the edge of the make-up plane, puts butt strokes in to deepen the penetration.
With one of your hands, you pull her hair and with the other hand, you slap her ass.
Stimulated in several places, Rosé cries out in pleasure and you feel her vaginal walls contract around your cock.
Rosé is taken by surprise when you lower your hand to her clitoris. You pinch it gently before starting to touch it.
It's only a matter of minutes before Rosé comes. And it happens faster than expected.
The pleasure is too much for Rosé and you feel your cock being ejected from her vagina. But it's not like usual, Rosé has just squirted.
It's the first time it's happened and Rosé can't get a word in edgewise. She alternates between moaning and nervous laughter.
"Wow." You reply.
"I...it ne..never..ha.. happened..before.." manages to articulate Rose.
"And it will happen later. "
Rosé turns her head towards you, but a wave of pleasure overtakes her. You penetrate her again and the singer lets out a moan.
"I'm still sensitive..."
"I know. "
You don't give Rosé time to respond and resume the same rhythm as before. You're not going to last long.
Rose's pussy is far too wet and it's only after several strokes that you pour yourself into her.
Rosé stands against the make-up table and you stand back, admiring your art.
Rosé is bent over the table, your cum pouring out of her pussy. You slap her ass, eliciting a small cry.
"If all photo shoots end up like this, I should come more often." You say.
"You SHOULD come to all my photo shoots from now on. "
With your hand you knead one of her buttocks.
"With pleasure. “
473 notes · View notes
awrkive · 6 months ago
Text
NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK
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in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.
PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader
GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k
CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments, litol bit of #domesticity, FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, angst if you squint??????????, the x file spoiler lol, suits cameo (me inserting my niche interests into conversations), the biggest warning of this part is: naked jungkook 💀
NOTES sorry for being almost 3 hours late efhkjdhfd i overestimated my abilities a bit mb mb anyway, AGAIN, i want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support! i want to take this opportunity to announce that i'll be taking a break from nb for  around 2 weeks to work on my new jungkook one-shot fic that i will be posting for his birthday ❤️ if you are interested, i have posted the teaser on my tumblr page. LASTLY pls let me know your thoughts!! i LOVE LOOOVEEE reading every single one of your replies/reblogs/asks. i hope you enjoy this one and have a good weekend ahead!!!!!! 
NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN (REPLY IN THE COMMENT SECTION. PLS DO NOT SEND AN ASK ABOUT IT)
READ ON WATTPAD | AO3
PART ONE | TWO | THREE
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You always wonder how a company this big seems to not have any budget lent for a copier that actually works – something that one doesn’t need to violently slap just for it to function perfectly.
You’ve been a victim not just once but five times to its inefficiency, the recent mishap being a month ago when the ink blots jumped right over the cuff of your shirt. 
With the way that you’ve been harassing the copier at the very moment, you’ll say it’s about to do you wrong for the sixth time and you absolutely can’t let it happen anymore – not when you’re currently wearing a white polo shirt that stupidly costs a little too much more than anything in your wardrobe (you decided to spend a little more than usual last New Year’s).
So, with a last unnecessary kick to the bottom of the machine (out of pure spite) you left the copier room of your floor and think, fuck it – go to the IT department and ask Taemu to back you up from his supervisor so you can use their copier instead – which is something you’re not so sure of. 
It’s embarrassing to go there just to ask him for help. Not with your history. But admittedly not that much of a history. After all, he seems to be cool with you and everything seems to be pretty chill. You can just go there; ask a little favor from a friend, and then hurry down to your floor.
There are some other options, though. Like, you can always ask the intern to do it for you. But the thing is, you kind of feel bad for those three. Your co-workers are doing a lot already; asking to fetch them things all around the building, buy them snacks, stuff like that. There’s another one but she’s way too quiet and didn’t really take shit from any of her seniors… which is kind of intimidating – but she's someone you wish you were when you were also an intern. You personally don’t want to help cultivate a somewhat toxic journey for the other three because you also started the same way as them. Beyond that, it would also be too rude to ask favors from Taemu indirectly.
You’re ultimately left with little and only one choice.
The elevator dings and the doors open after it does so. 
One of the people in it is a woman you’ve never met around before. Long, black hair; tailored suit, slender figure, and a posture that screams she’s never hunched her back in her entire life. 
Other people that entered at the same time as you start to bow their heads down slightly and greet a polite, “Good afternoon.” 
You mirror their gesture as well. 
As you step inside and settle on a spot, you wonder who she is. 
An executive, maybe? She looks very put-together, and there’s authority that hangs over her frame… but exceptionally young in the physical aspect. Jungkook is also young, though – and he’s an executive, so that’s entirely possible. Additionally, others seem to know her. Or they're just pretending to know her like you did. Did you miss a ceremony? A meeting? Or did you gloss over some HR email again? You’ll have to check later to find out if that’s the case. 
Anyway, your curiosity doesn’t last long when the elevator doors open once again, indicating the IT department floor. 
You already texted Taemu awhile ago that you were on your way so he should meet you on-time. 
As you walk down the hallway with your phone in your hand, your attention is caught by a familiar voice.
“Hey,”
You look up from your phone and see Taemu waving not too far away, heading towards your direction. It doesn’t take him long to get near you. When he does, you give him a smile.
“Taemu, hi.” You say as a small greeting. Taemu lifts his hand and you thought he was going for a high-five, so you lift your hand as well to meet the gesture. But then he leans in closer, one arm about to enclose your waist, and that’s when you realize he was actually gearing up for a hug.
Taemu seems to register that you weren’t exactly going for the same thing, so he steps back. He seems shy when you look at him in confusion.
“Oh, okay, sorry,” He offers his hand again, but just when you’re already thinking about hugging him because that was what he originally meant to do, he speaks just as you lean in closer to hug him. “I thought we were high-five-ing?” 
Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.
“I thought... you wanted to hug?” You chuckle. 
“Okay, let’s just—” Taemu steps closer again and this time, it’s more than clear to you what he wants to do.
You reciprocate the hug he gives.
“This is so stupid.” You say, chuckling against his neck. The contact is quick as you two simultaneously break apart.
Taemu laughs at your remark, nodding his head. Then he gestures ahead, pointing to the direction of the copy room.
“Your copier not working again?” He asks as you walk down the hallway together. 
You heave a sigh. “Yeah, they really need to change that one. Anyway, have you told Mr. Lee?” You ask, referring to his supervisor. 
Teamu nods his head, opening the door to the copy room for you. 
“Yeah, it’s fine with him. Just sign the logbook and stuff.” 
“Thanks, Taemu.” You say, quickly getting to work, feeling slightly delighted at how their machine smoothly does its job and not like the one at all in your department. “Hey, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this.” You lament as you wait for the paper to slide out.
Taemu waves his hand, shaking his head at you. “It’s fine.” 
You purse your lips into a thin line, giving him a somewhat apprehensive smile. The paper comes out and you get your thing. After a quick scan to see if the copier got everything right, you look back at Taemu to say, “Thanks again, Taemu. I really appreciate this.” 
“No worries. Anytime.”
When you announce that you’re done, Taemu calls your name.
“Hm?” You hum, looking at him and wait for his next words.
He looks coy when he rubs a hand on the back of his head.
“Can I take you out for lunch?” He says, and you still in your position. Taemu seems like he surprised himself with his own words. You open your mouth to speak but then he beats you to it quickly, “It’s not a date. I phrased that as a date – but it’s not – ah, this is all coming out wrong,” Taemu chuckles, interrupting himself. With his hands in his slacks' pockets, he leans to a random table inside the room and looks at you with a more confident stance this time, as if he just gave himself a quick internal pep talk after jumbling his words. “What I meant to say is, if we can go out for lunch together today?” 
You chuckle. You were just about to say yes. Contrary to his assumption, you didn’t really take his first question as an invitation for a date. Besides, he helped you with the copier today.
Nodding your head, you offer him a grin as you say, “Yeah. I’ll go to lunch with you.” 
Taemu walks you to the elevator even though you said he doesn’t need to. He's insistent but you let it, anyway.
Taemu puts his hands on both sides of the door before it closes. The ride is pretty much empty except for yourself.
“When are you off?” He asks.
You think about it for a moment. “Is 12:15 okay?”
Taemu nods. “Sure. See you at 12:15?” 
“Yeah. Later.” 
The elevator closes and you laugh to yourself when you catch Taemu awkwardly waving his hand at you goodbye.
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“No, you didn’t, I kicked your ass at mini golf!” You say, laughing as Taemu looks at you with squinted eyes, obviously saying that was absolutely not what happened on your date a few months ago.
“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.” 
You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Rules do not matter, though. It’s just some stick and a ball and… fake grass.” 
Taemu laughs, surrendering his hands to the air, nodding when he says, “Fair, fair.” 
You’re currently at a restaurant not too far away from your company building. It took Taemu and you about five minutes to get here; just a quick waiting time to cross the pedestrian lane to get from one street to the other.
Looking around, you can actually see some people inside wearing your company lace. The restaurant’s sort of like a famous spot around the company, though, so it doesn't necessarily surprise you. You’ve also had a few company dinners here some time ago. 
Safe to say, lunch with Taemu is going… okay so far.
No – actually, it’s way better than you thought it would be.
You could have never, ever predicted that you’ll be out with him alone again after… you know, ghosting him. Your whole assessment of his character has also changed a bit after the whole fiasco.
See, some guys start feeling entitled over your permission and consent when you entertain them even just for a bit. When you go on dates and you break it to them that it’s just not working out between you two, they start to act weird. Like you’ve hurt them. Or that you lead them on – even though it’s absolutely not the case. 
But Taemu’s proving himself to be different. You honestly expected him to act like that guy because he seems the type after your first date. But he surprises you by acting the total, complete opposite.
He’s so… nice. So casual. Like nothing happened. You feel bad because right now, you've officially confirmed to yourself that you totally misjudged him. 
You can’t believe you’ll say this, but Taemu is not an asshole. Like at all.
Even now, you’re recalling what happened to your date and laughing about some of the memories of it, and it feels so long ago you’re starting to remember it differently.
“Anyway, this milkshake’s really good,” you say, taking your glass and looking at it curiously. 
“Yeah? I told you,” Taemu grins, eating from his own plate. 
“You always come here?” You ask out of curiosity since he seems to be familiar with the menu. 
“Sort of? I mean, I try to take in the city as much as I can.” You nod, recalling what he told you before. He came from Daegu, and it’s his first time in Seoul.
Before you can say anything to that, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your bill. 
Taemu and you simultaneously take out your wallets. When he sees you do it, though, he’s quick to shake his head, gesturing for you to not bother.
“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.” 
“I got it, too,” You say, smiling at him, already picking out your card, ready to put it inside the check presenter.
“__,” Taemu says your name while chuckling. “I swear, it’s fine. I was the one who invited you for lunch.” 
“Taemu,” You call him, using the same tone he used. Taemu grins at that. “I think we should split the bill.”
It’s only fair, you think. You ate pretty much the same thing.
You hold what felt like a minute staring competition until Taemu gives in and lets you stack your card on top of his in the booklet.
You’re about to resume eating – pick up on the conversation you left a few minutes ago – when your phone dings on the table, a message popping out on the notification center.
When you read the contact name, your eyes widen but you relax your face real quick lest Taemu asks questions. 
“Sorry,” you say, pointing to your phone. Taemu nods, understanding. You pick the device in your hands, turn to your other side to not be rude, and read the text from Jungkook. 
Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:47pm]: hey I bought you lunch Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:48pm]: i was gonnna ask you to go with me earlier but I got busy with some papers 
Shoot.
You’ve done a pretty good job of not thinking about Jungkook at all for the entirety of the day. You woke up so early this morning that you waited for twenty whole minutes for your bus just so you can avoid seeing Jungkook because everytime his name pops up in your thoughts, you remember what you did the night before and it just messes with your head so much.
Listen, you aren’t embarrassed about trying to get yourself off. It’s just masturbation. It’s a carnal need and it’s totally normal. What you are not proud of is the way you thought about him – out of all people – and how it actually made you feel… a little more motivated to get yourself there. 
But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake. 
How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that and act like you didn’t do what you did? Granted, you did stop before it escalated. But still, the point is that you thought about him while you were pleasuring yourself. Even if it was for a tiny bit second, it still counts!
Stupid fucking ovulation, you think to yourself with bitterness. You’re a much better person without it, you swear. You don’t go around thinking about men when you try to get yourself off, not at all! Personally, your head is mostly blank when you go through it.   
But Jungkook left two texts. And he’s probably seen the read tag on his end already. 
You [12:49pm]: I just got lunch ): thank you for buying me one tho that’s really nice ofu
You turn your phone off after sending your reply, placing it on the empty space of your table. When you look at Taemu, he’s eyeing something behind you. With furrowed brows, the question about what he’s looking at is on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly says,
“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?” 
“W-what?” You stammer, not sure if you heard him right.
The knots on Taemu’s forehead fades, and then he nods to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s Mr. Jeon. He’s going this way.” 
“Wha—”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon.” Taemu stands up from his seat and does a slight bow for greeting. 
Without thinking about it, you mirror Taemu’s action, bowing your head longer than necessary. 
“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”
It’s no use to avoid his gaze, though.
When you look at Jungkook, he seems pretty much just as surprised to see you. You look away, but your eyes fall to his hand, and you see that it carries a take-out paper bag from the restaurant. You think about his text. 
“Good afternoon.” Jungkook says with an easy-going smile. He goes from surprised to casual real quick and glosses over you as if he doesn’t know you. 
You don’t really know how that makes you feel. 
“I was just going, have fun with your lunch.” He says and politely bids his goodbye, going straight to the direction of the restaurant’s door. 
“He’s really cool, you know?” Taemu brings up when you both sit down again. 
“I— huh?”
“You must have heard about the new project they’re starting at the end of this month, right?” He asks curiously.
You sit there stunned. Stunned from earlier’s interaction with Jungkook but also because you don’t really know what the hell Taemu’s talking about.
“No… I didn’t get any memo…?” You say instead, trying not to act way too oblivious lest he thinks you’re lazy or something. Not that it matters! You’re not trying to impress him or anything. 
Taemu nods. “Well, you’ll probably know about it soon.”  
But your head's too far gone now, still stuck on what happened a minute ago.
You look over at your phone while Taemu speaks, hoping for it to light up with a new notification from the messaging app. 
A few minutes passed by and it doesn’t, even when you leave the restaurant.
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You don’t really know why you’re here. 
It’s been three days since that night in Jungkook’s place where you tried to bake in his kitchen, so it’s also been three days since you started practicing during the nights after work to perfect your cookies. Tonight, it just so happens that the cookies finally taste edible and honestly, it’s more than okay. 
So, maybe that’s why you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s door with a plastic container in your hands, decently-baked cookies prettily arranged inside. 
Jungkook was with you when you made those pathetic excuses for cookies, so you thought it’s only fair for him to try these ones and tell you what he thinks. Brag a little. Maybe have a little chitchat if he’s free or whatever.
It’s also… sort of like a peace offering for something he doesn’t need to know about. You can’t tell him you’re sorry for thinking about him when you did the deed because that’s just plain weird. 
Speaking of weird, though, the interaction from yesterday left you feeling a little empty. There’s this gnawing feeling inside of you that something went wrong – but you can’t exactly point out why. Jungkook also hasn’t texted you after that – which isn’t out of the ordinary. You don’t text everyday and you don’t meet every single day, either – for the record. You’re both busy people. You can only imagine Jungkook’s schedule.
Anyway, if there’s anything that you learned about your friendship with Jungkook, it’s that you don’t need to lie to him. You just have to knock on his door and he’ll unintentionally clear your doubts by being the voice of reason because he’s nice like that. 
You do hope though that tonight clears any weird air between you. Maybe you’ll find out later on that there’s nothing weird going on at all and you’re just overthinking stuff as usual. 
You’re about to ring the doorbell twice when the door finally opens, showing you Jungkook still wearing his polo shirt. He looks like he’s just gotten home from work, red tie undone around his neckline and a few buttons popped open. 
“Hi.” You smile. 
“Hey,” Jungkook looks at you, obviously wondering what brought you to his door.
“I wanted to give you this,” you hand him the plastic container which he takes with a confused look. “Those are cookies. I baked them. I didn’t give you anything when I baked two nights ago because they were bad.”
“Ah,” Jungkook nods, looking down at the plastic. He smiles, then leans on his doorway. “So it’s good now?” 
You gesture a so-so with your hand. “Don’t set your expectations too high. It’s not exactly Poilâne. But it tastes like matcha cookies, I swear.” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, you decide to add, “You also won’t get food poisoning, if you’re worried about that.”
Jungkook gives you an amused look. “I wasn’t… worried about that.”
“It’s a simple disclaimer. Just in case, you know, you suddenly feel weird in the stomach…” Jungkook arches his brow while you trail off. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “I’m kidding.” 
He lets out a chuckle and then stands upright. “Thank you for this.” 
“No worries,” you say. You shift your weight from one foot to another. “Uh, do you wanna grab dinner? Right now?” 
Jungkook looks at you apologetically.
“I really wish we could, but I have to finish something tonight. Work stuff.” 
“Oh,” You nod immediately. “Okay. Uhm, good luck with that.”
He smiles at you. Lifting the container up, he arches his brows, saying, “Thank you, again. It looks good.” 
“Yeah, I hope you like it,” You say. Realizing that there’s nothing more left to say, you turn on your heel ready to go. But before that, you look back at him one last time. “Bye.” 
Jungkook grins.
“I’ll text you what I think about them.” He says, pointing to the cookies. 
“Okay, Anton Ego.”  
You both laugh at that, and you enter your apartment with a small smile on your face.
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You don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you might have taken Jungkook’s words about reviewing your baked goods too seriously that you waited for it last night longer than necessary. Even when the night ended and you go to work the next day, which is today, none of his texts come, and you don’t think anything’s coming anytime soon. 
You try not to think about it too much because he did say he’s busy with work. You’re sure that’s the case, so you feel slightly bad for him. 
Right now, you’re looking for Ms. Seo to get her signature on a document. So you head to the elevator, rushing a bit to get inside the one that’s about to close. It’s a little urgent, so you cannot waste any more time.
As soon as you enter though, you notice who’s in it.
It’s Jungkook and the woman you saw in the elevator two days ago. 
You’re starting to think you need to start using the stairs from now on because your elevator trips are getting too ridiculous. 
It feels like you’re running on auto-pilot when you greet them both, walking to the side to make space for the other people entering. 
You wish you went beside the woman instead and not Jungkook’s side because you then have to try real hard not to look at him.
It proves to be an uneasy task when more people squeeze in as the elevator takes a few stops in between floors. You had to taut all the muscles in your body just to not get into any contact with Jungkook, but even with all the effort, it goes unsuccessful, as you brush his arm when you step back to move a little. 
Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.
“I’m sorry.” You utter, low enough to not cause any unnecessary attention.
A few do turn to stare, anyway. And you can’t help but notice the way the woman’s hand moves towards Jungkook’s to hold it as she takes a look at you. 
Jungkook, meanwhile, gives you that same professional smile he seems to have reserved for every employee that greets him around the building, warm voice saying, “It’s okay.” 
You’re thankful that the next floor is where your stop is.
As you go back to your cubicle, you wonder who the woman is. Again.
There's something about her that feels familiar. She looks familiar. Like you’ve seen her before. You can’t just figure out where exactly. 
“__,” Sol calls beside you. 
“Huh?”
“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.
“Oh…” Right. It’s currently your break time. “Are you guys going out?” You say, looking at Joonhwi who’s two cubicles away from you.
Sol shakes her head, taking her coat from the back of her chair. “No, just at the cafeteria.” 
You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll follow in a few minutes, just need to look over some stuff here,” You point to your computer. 
“Okay. Just text me.” 
You give Sol a smile and watch as she and Joonhwi head out of the office. 
Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.
12:10pm. 
Is Jungkook possibly having lunch right now? You remember him buying you one two days ago and feel a little sense of regret about not taking it even though it isn’t your fault and he should’ve told you first to give you a little heads-up.
You never really talked about it. You never really talked for the past three days.
But then again, he seems to be busy.
With a little hope in your heart, though, you pick up your phone and decide to send him a text. 
You [12:12pm]: hey do u want to go out for lunch? 
Or should you just buy him one like he did for you? It’s not like you’re trying to up him in a kindness competition. It can just be a small, thoughtful gesture from a friend to a friend. 
You receive a reply a few seconds after. 
Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: hey __  I���d love to
Your lips curl down when you read the next one that comes in a second.
Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: but I have a work meeting in 5mins
Oh. Okay. That tracks. 
You [12:14pm]: okii!! That’s totally cool! good luck with work 😊
You stand up from your chair and take out your wallet from your bag, going out of your office and sending a quick text to Sol that you’re coming to the cafeteria. 
When you get there, your peripheral vision catches a familiar figure. 
You look back, trying to see if it’s someone you know.
Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.
You’ve seen him in the elevator this morning and he wore a grey pair of suit. You’d also recognize his stature anywhere, but just like how it was inside the elevator, he’s with the woman again; long hair down like it was yesterday, this time adorning a suit dress that hugs her figure really well, her stilettos making her legs look longer but somehow Jungkook still stands a little taller.
For the very brief moment that you laid your eyes on them, you saw how Jungkook had his hand placed on the low of her back, how she laughed at something he said, and how they looked good together from your point of view. It seemed like they were on their way somewhere.
You realize that was what Jungkook meant when he said he’s busy.
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They say a silver lining comes in every worst situation possible, and you’re more of an optimist rather than a pessimist so usually, you believe in the concept of silver linings even though right now – it looks like it’s going to be winning the jackpot in the lottery or… free education for everybody across the world.
“The contractor estimates it would be a week-long repair.”
“One week?” Is your immediate response, disbelief coloring your tone. “I’m sorry—” You try to fix your tone, salvaging yourself from being seen as outright rude in front of your building manager. “You mean seven whole days?”
The building manager, Mr. Han, nods his head. He looks genuinely apologetic as he delivers the news, for the record.
“That’s… really long.” You say, albeit calmer now. But you still can’t imagine it.
“It’s just an estimate. Contractor said it might be faster than that, but they still need to do a full assessment of your unit tomorrow, together with the water damage restoration company. We’re doing all we can to respond to the situation. We’re also talking to your upstairs neighbor about the stipulation of his negligence.”
You nod along to his words.
Obviously, it’s his job to ensure everything’s taken care of, but still, you’re appreciative of the way they are going about the current situation. You’ve heard horror stories about tenants getting into arguments with their building managers or landlords when their apartments experience accidents.
“Can I ask about relocation?” You ask. You have to read your lease again to make sure.
“Unfortunately, it’s not indicated in your lease policy, but your renter’s insurance should cover it. You can also talk to your landlord about reducing your rent for this month due to the inconvenience.”
You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”
The plumber and some of the help the building manager employed to dry up your place from the accidental flood had already left a while ago, and soon, Mr. Han’s figure disappears entirely after a few seconds as you watch him walk down the flight of stairs and away from the building.
You can hear the loud whirring of the air movers placed inside your unit from where you stood on your porch. Your hair’s damp, including some spots on your work clothes from the water that trickled down your ceiling as you panicked earlier to pack some of your belongings in a medium-sized luggage you managed to grab in the timeframe.
It’s the state that Jungkook catches you in when you see him emerging from the stairs, looking like he also just got back from work.
“Hey, what happened?” Jungkook, with his brows furrowed, looks at you with worried eyes, sounding equally concerned.
You sigh. “Hey,” you greet weakly. “My apartment got flooded.”
“What?”
“It’s the upstairs neighbor. He apparently left his tub running while he went to work this afternoon,” You take a sharp breath, getting pissed again at the negligence. So goddamn stupid, really. “He flooded his own place and the water leaked to my ceiling, and when I got back home from work I was welcomed with two inches of water on my floor.”
“What the hell?” Jungkook says in disbelief. You nod at his reaction. That is exactly what you said when you heard the story from the property manager. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you appreciate it.
“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.
Jungkook furrows his brows. “You called your landlord immediately?”
Letting out a sigh again, you nod and move to sit on your suitcase – the lonesome bag that you’re planning to bring with you to wherever the hell you’re going to stay tonight. You don’t even think you have enough clothes in it.
“My place is a complete wreck. Most of the water’s drained, though, and the building manager brought some help inside and they put air movers inside to dry the place right now.” You blow air to the strand of hair that escapes from your ponytail out of frustration. “It’s a shitshow, I know.”
“Good that they responded fast,” Jungkook comments, but concern is still etched on his face as he asks you, “Have you called your insurance company yet?”
“Yeah, we’re emailing right now.” You tell him, showing your phone. You hate sending email through such a small device but you left your laptop back at the office – which is kind of a good thing, now that you think about it – because it would’ve gotten flooded had you left it in your place.
“Did you document everything?”
Your response comes in a little curt.
“Yes, Jungkook. I did.” The onslaught questions just somehow seemed to prompt irritation in you, and you can’t help but add, “I know everything I have to do. I’m an adult.”
Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.
“I— I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize.”
When you look up at him, you see his expression softening – and you feel bad for what you just did.
Chill, __. He’s just asking logical questions.
“No, I’m sorry,” You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed for bursting like that. You shouldn’t have talked to him like that, anyway. “I don’t know why I snapped, you’re just asking the important questions.”
Jungkook hesitantly hovers his hand on your shoulder, and the look he gives you seems to be asking for permission to touch you. You don’t even know if that’s his intention, but you give him a nod.
He smiles, tapping your shoulder for a brief second, saying, “It’s okay. You must be really stressed right now.”
“You think I can’t be calm in this situation?” You look at him with a blank expression. Jungkook’s taken aback and you witness the very split second his smile drops form his face, probably thinking he said something wrong. Then you can’t help it, you break. “I’m just fucking with you.”
Jungkook’s brows furrow as he sees you bursting into a gentle laugh, breaking your serious demeanor.
He shakes his head slowly, seemingly incredulous of the stunt you just pulled.
“You and your jokes…”
“You should’ve seen your face.”
“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.
“I’m sorry… it’s just me trying to ignore the fact that my apartment literally got flooded and those loud and big ass fans they placed inside are about to tear my ears off.”
You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.
“Where are you staying for the night, then?” He asks.
“I don’t know,” you shrug, genuinely not sure about your options. “Probably gonna book a hotel or something.”
Of course you’ve thought about Jimin. He can probably easily help you find a place for the meantime but it’d probably be hard with him not being physically in the country just yet. Sol also crossed your mind, but you remember she has a roommate.
Getting a hotel to temporarily stay at is the most obvious option there is. It would be too much of a hassle, not to mention expensive, but—
“You can stay at mine for the night.”
You think you’re getting around to Jungkook offering you help without you even asking – but it doesn’t mean you still don’t get a little taken aback when he gives it so willingly and so quickly like this.
“No.” You shake your head.
“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.
You stare at him right back.
“I can’t.”
“Why?” He raised his brow.
“I can’t think of reasons right now.”
“You don’t need to think at all.”
You squint your eyes at him, he does the same.
Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.
“Come on! You’re gonna freeze in here.”
Hesitantly, you say, “… Are you sure?”
“What are you worried about?” He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response.
Well. There’s a lot to be worried about.
There’s the thing where you always just seem to be caught into some shit and then he catches you right exactly in it. It’s starting to get embarrassing.
But Jungkook just doesn’t really seem to mind it.
“Nothing, really.” Is what you weakly settled for.
“Okay…” He trails off, raising a brow, obviously a bit confused. “Then what’s the big deal? Do you really want to go through the hassle of picking out hotels and booking a room at this hour? You have to go to work tomorrow.”
You visibly wince at the mention of work.
He’s right and you kind of hate it.
“You’re right…” you say after a while.
“You’re staying at mine?” Jungkook asks again, in which you nod your head in confirmation.
You stand up from your suitcase and pull up the handle. Then you look at him sincerely to give him a smile. “Thank you. I think this is like the five hundredth time this kind of thing happened between you and I.”
“Not counting.” Jungkook shrugs. “Have you had dinner yet?”
You nod your head. “I went with a friend— a co-worker.”
Jungkook visibly stills.
“The guy from a few days ago at the restaurant around work?”
You perk up at that, surprised he still recalls that day.
“Yeah, that’s him. Taemu. From the IT dep.”
He nods. You don’t know if he’s interested or not.
You think it’s a bit random that he brought that up, though, but you shake the thoughts away and call his name.
Jungkook looks at you.
“Thank you.” You say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.
He chuckles. “You’re welcome,” Jungkook then gestures to the luggage you’re holding. “Let me.”
Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say yes before he takes the handle from you and carries the luggage with him to the direction of his place just across from yours.
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You consciously try to make your steps lighter as you walk out of the shower box, making your way towards your suitcase to check on the clothes you packed.
When you open it, you thank the heavens that there are underwear – and a lot of them, for the record – but as you rummage around some more, you find that other than your work clothes, you only have nightwear inside. And when you say nightwear, not the comfortable cotton pajama kind but the nightie one – and that basically means the baby blue silky set of tiny camisole and shorts that can pass as a pair of panties.
I can’t possibly wear these, you think to yourself, hastily burying the pieces of clothing in the bottom of your luggage.
It shouldn’t mean anything – those are nightwear after all! But it was already embarrassing to ask Jungkook earlier if you could use his shower and his towel. You can’t come out of the bathroom wearing clothes that Jimin once tagged as “slutty pjs”. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s place.
“__?”
You look over to the door when you hear Jungkook’s voice, a knock following.
“Yes?” You answer.
“Do you have clothes in there?”
At the question, your gaze automatically falls to the suitcase where the thin strap of the camisole peeks out in between some other clothes that are completely useless for the night.
With hesitance, you say, “Uhm… do you possibly have a shirt I can borrow? I promise to clean it and return it to you tomorrow, ASAP.”
You hear him chuckle from the other side. “I brought you some. There’s also a pair of sweatpants but I’m not sure if they’ll fit you.”
It’s hard to not celebrate silently when Jungkook says that – but you might have jumped a little at his words.
When you walk towards the door and open it, you give Jungkook a huge smile as you tell him, “Thanks!”
He stops. And then you stop.
You realize you’re only in your towel – his towel, to be exact.
You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks the moment it registers.
Before you can do or say anything, Jungkook moves on quickly and stretches his arm, thrusting the clothes he’s mentioned into your way.
“There.” He says simply, smiling at you.
You take them from his hand, giving him a smile too, albeit a bit awkward.
“T-thanks.”
Jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you lock the door to the bathroom as soon as he walks away.
You settle his clothes on top of the flat surface of the lavatory, physically shaking your head as you look at yourself in the mirror to shake your thoughts away.
Thoughts of his slightly parted lips when you opened the door while you’re only in a towel.
But it happened in such a split second that you’re not sure if it even happened.
When you take his white shirt, it feels soft to the touch and there’s a scent of fresh laundry that wafts through your nose when you wear it on yourself.
It’s loose on you, the sleeves almost covering your whole arms and the hem stopping mid-thigh. But because of that, it feels comfortable – like the oversized shirts you wear to bed that you, unfortunately, weren’t able to pack with you in the heap of panic.
But the pants show a different case. It’s so big that it drags on the floor as you wear it.
You made do, though; drawing the strings tightly and and knotting them together, pulling up the gartered hems up to your calf.
When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook welcomes you with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half.
“H-hey,” You stammer, eyes meeting his own to avoid looking at his naked torso.
“I was just going in. You done?” He casually says, as if he doesn’t mind being naked in front of you.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m done. Thanks for the clothes.” You say, gesturing across your body.
“Looks good.” Jungkook comments before entering the bathroom.
You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.
The sound of water running is heard before you scramble to the living room.
Why was he naked?!
Okay, he wasn’t actually naked naked but still, he had no clothes on. Why did he have no clothes on? You’re trying to erase the image of his torso, the lines that draw an obvious four-pack, his firm-looking chest, and the way the tattoos over his right arm apparently go way above his shoulder. It’s obvious that he goes to the gym and works out from the way those polo sleeves of his always hug his biceps a little too tight – and with a body like that, you completely understand why he wouldn’t mind parading it around.
The AC in his unit is turned on, but it suddenly feels way too hot from where you currently sit on his couch.
Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.
Completely wanting out of that headspace, you decide to take out your iPad to get in contact with your insurance company to discuss your current situation, and it does a good job of keeping your mind off Jungkook for a while.
You’re so deep in the activity that you don’t even notice a few minutes has already gone by, and with that, you don’t notice Jungkook coming out of the shower.
When you see him in your periphery, he’s now thankfully dressed in a shirt and some basketball shorts. He’s drying his hair as he walks over to your direction in the living room.
You look at him in surprise when you notice the pillow and comforter he has in his hands.
“Sorry. You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped,” you say, standing up from the couch, ready to help him with it, assuming that you’ll be on the couch tonight.
Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. “I’m taking the couch.”
You stare at him, ready to hear him say he’s kidding or something but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.
You shake your head vigorously.
“No, that’s ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous about it?” Jungkook says, putting the pillows on the couch, starting to make it all the while looking at you through the process to engage.
“It’s your place.” You reason.
“And you’re my guest.” He says as a matter of fact.
“But—”
Jungkook cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.
“__, it’s fine, really. You can take my bed. I insist.”
“Jungkook…” you trail off, sounding more like a whine.
He laughs and then looks at you with a playful smile. “Okay, should we compromise? Like, what, share the bed or the couch?”
You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the suggestion.
You honestly don’t know why Jungkook says these kinds of things. You know it’s just his usual teasing, but he’s about to confuse you one of these days…
“God, no.” You respond with a shake of your head.
He chuckles. “Oh, is sleeping with me that repulsive to you?”
You push a little at his shoulder and roll your eyes.
When Jungkook’s done fixing the couch, he gestures to the door by the far end of the room. “Come on, I'll take you to the bedroom.”
You both walk towards that direction and as much as you’ve been over his place for more than once now, you’ve actually never seen his room – and for the record, why would you?
But it looks nice. Just like the rest of his apartment’s interior, his room is also almost the same. Kind of bare, but there are some sleek furniture that add character to the whole place.
“Too cold?” Jungkook asks, and you look at him to see him holding the remote of his AC.
“The temp’s fine.”
He hums and puts down the remote.
“Alright, then. Just call me if you need something.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the door. He’s about to leave when you call him again.
“Good night, Jungkook. Thank you for your bed.”
“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”
You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.
When he leaves, you sit on his mattress covered by black duvets and sheets. It’s soft, and you let yourself bounce on the fluffy surface, delighting at the feel.
It’s about the same size as yours, and when you lay on it, you smell that usual scent that Jungkook always emanates. Clean, crisp, a little sweet. Like fresh apples. Or fresh laundry. He just always smells so… clean.
You feel a little sense of strangeness at the different environment you’re in, but the bed is too soft that you feel like you’re almost floating – and maybe it’s because you are tired from work and drained from the whole fiasco at your apartment, but you fall asleep fast and heavy within just a few minutes.
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You almost jump from the bed when you open your eyes and see a different type of bedding, only to realize that you’re actually not in your apartment and in Jungkook’s instead.
After processing that, you begin to do a little stretching, finding that you slept quite well. As you do so, your eyes catch the digital clock on the bedside table, and you read 4:30 am.
It’s a bit too early to start getting ready for work, but maybe if you start prepping now, you’ll be ready to go out just as when Jungkook is waking up.
When you stand from the bed, you discover the absence of pants around your waist, the cold air sending goosebumps over your bare legs – and as expected, you see the sweats getting caught in between the heaps of dark sheets on the bed.
You must have taken it off in the middle of the night. It’s why you usually forgo pants when you sleep.
You decide against wearing it again, though, assuming that Jungkook is still sound asleep by now so he can’t possibly see you walking around his place naked from the waist down. Besides, the shirt’s big and almost serves as a dress.
Carrying the pants with you, you silently open the door to his bedroom to tiptoe on your way to the bathroom.
“Hey,”
“Jesus christ!” You clutch your heart at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice booming across the unit.
When you look at him, he’s… working out. Apparently.
Jungkook takes out the airpods from his ears and drink from his tumbler.
“What are you tiptoeing for?” He asks, brows furrowed.
From where you stand, you see droplets of sweat on the side of his forehead, his chest heaving from the push-ups you catch him doing a few seconds ago on the mat that he laid on the floor. There are small weights on the side, and Jungkook is still wearing his clothes from last night.
Did he possibly just… wake up and then choose to exercise? Is this his everyday routine?
“I didn’t want to wake you,” you make up an excuse that’s kind of partly true. He slept on the couch in the living room, after all. And from the sala, everything is pretty much visible to the eye as the unit has an open layout. So one single noise could’ve awakened him.
“Too late for that,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks at you longer than a second and you’re just about to get conscious when he asks, “You get ready for work at four?”
You purse your lips into a thin line. “Sort of. I also have to check my place.” Jungkook nods, understanding. “Uh, Jungkook?” He hums to acknowledge you. “Can I use your shower? Again?”
He laughs at the way you smile at him awkwardly. “Sure. Your towel’s just over the rack.”
“Thanks.” You smile at him and go straight to the bathroom.
You make quick work of washing yourself, and the shower, just like last night, isn’t your usual routine because of course, most of your stuff are still over at your place. Though Jungkook is kind enough to lend you some of his unused products – even giving you a spare toothbrush which now sits beside his own on the bathroom sink.
When you finish showering, you wear his shirt and his pants once again. As you go out of the bathroom, the sound of oil popping from the kitchen doesn’t escape your ears.
“I made breakfast.” Jungkook says as you make your way towards the kitchen island. He’s a few steps away, working around the stove, frying up some sausage. He takes some eggs and then turns to you. “How do you like your eggs?”
You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by that, but then you both laugh at the realization anyway.
“Sunny side up.” You say after a while, seating yourself on one of the high stools. “Can I help you?”
“It’s okay, just sit there.”
You put your elbow on the island as you watch him work. “Wow, do you really treat all your guests like this?” You tease, deciding to poke a joke.
Jungkook laughs as he starts breaking eggs into the frying pan.
“You’re the first one.” He raises a brow your way, lips tilted into a playful smile.
“Awe.” You pretend to curtsy which makes Jungkook laugh.
It doesn’t take long before Jungkook serves you a plate of sausage and perfectly-made sunny side up. You say a delighted “thank you!” in which Jungkook returns an adorable smile for.
You thought he was going to eat with you, but he only ate the sausage and began to work on cutting up some bananas while you continued to eat.
“What did they say about your apartment? How long is the repair?” Jungkook asks while he takes out a mixer.
“Week-long,” He visibly winces at your answer. You purse your lips. “I’m trying to look for a place to stay for the remaining days.”
Jungkook furrows his brows. “Lease doesn’t cover relocation?”
“Talked to the building manager and the landlord last night and they said it doesn’t. I also read the policy again myself last night, though, just to be sure. Anyway, landlord’s cutting my rent this month for up to thirty, so that’s something.”
“Okay… how about your stuff?”
As you watch Jungkook during the whole conversation, you realize that he’s apparently making a protein shake, and when he finishes shaking the bottle, he gestures it towards you, silently asking if you want to try it.
You shake your head, also answering his question. “I already filed a claim on it with my insurance company, so they’re handling it for me. They’re probably going to seek reimbursement from my upstairs neighbor’s insurance if he has one,” You shrug. “And I’m also gonna have to ask him to pay for the deductible.”
Jungkook nods, consuming his drink. You watch as he leans back on the kitchen sink, putting his protein shake down and crossing his arms, looking right at you.
“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”
You look right back at him weird.
“You’re not serious.”
“When am I not serious?”
You hold a staring competition after that, but Jungkook’s eyes are way too intense so you break away first.
“I just can’t.” You say, interrupting the silence.
“It’s friend to a friend. I bet you’d do this for me too.” Jungkook shrugs.
He doesn’t understand, though. Staying at his place for the remaining six days would mean that you’d be both living under the same roof together, and while it’s true that you would probably do this for him if he was in your shoes, it’s just not the same.
But you don’t want to get into all that. It’s too complicated to explain, even to yourself.
So you decide to joke a little.
“Probably not.” You tease.
Jungkook chuckles. “Mean.” He comments, shaking his head at you and playfully clicking his tongue.
“I’m joking,” you smile apologetically. “It’s just for six more days, though. The manager told me it might take faster.”
“Where do plan to stay, anyway? A hotel would be really inconvenient. The nearest one around here is too far from work, not to mention it’d be expensive as well.”
“There’s loss of use coverage,” You say, even though you know the stipulation, and your apartment flooding because of your neighbor’s negligence might probably not be in the clauses.
It’s just to reason with Jungkook, but he’s quick to present another point.
“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”
You pout. Sighing, you say, “You’re right.”
“Okay, so why not stay here?” Jungkook asks curiously. “You know I don’t mind. I won’t mind.” He says and it sounds so convincing and genuine.
You decide to deflect a little because you feel like giving in any seconds now.
“You say that but wait until you find that I’m not very likeable as a roommate.”
Jungkook raises a brow. “Shoot. Hit me.”
Pursing your lips into a thin line, you try to think of your bad habits.
“I…” you trail off, but it stretches into seconds way longer than necessary.
Jungkook chuckles. “See, you can’t even list one.”
“I don’t cook.” You point out.
“I already know that.”
You frown. “So we can’t take turns cooking while I stay here.”
Jungkook only shrugs. “There’s take-out.”
“You’re gonna eat take-out for a week?”
“I can cook.” He chuckles.
“Okay… but sometimes, I get super cranky.”
He nods. “I’ll be out of your way, then. You won’t even notice I’m here.”
You sigh, out of reasons now.
“I’ll try to be helpful with you in the kitchen for the next six days. And I’ll also be nice.”
Jungkook’s brows perk up. “You’re saying you want to stay here?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “But… I wan to pay you.”
“__, the whole reason why I’m offering is because a hotel is gonna cost you,” Jungkook laughs.
That prompts you to put a frown on your face.
“Fair point. But I’m going to take your couch the entire time, okay? And that’s final.”
It takes a little longer for Jungkook to agree to that. But he nods his head, anyway, saying, “Sure.”
It sounds so non-committal. You think he's going to still try insisting taking the couch.
“Okay.” You say, ignoring that thought, smiling at him. “Thank you.”
“You know you’re always welcome, right?” Jungkook says.
You’re thankful he turns around after he says that to tend to the stuff he used a while ago in the sink, giving you a perfect leeway to avoid his gaze lest he takes notice of the way you can’t help a big smile.
“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish your breakfast.” He says, pointing to your unfinished plate. 
You give him a small salute.
Before he goes to the direction of the bathroom, Jungkook turns around to ask. "Do you want to go to work together?" He raises a brow, but then a second after his question, he puts a hand up, effectively stopping you from answering. "You're gonna say no. But I insist. Say yes, I made you breakfast." 
You laugh at his squinted eyes. 
"I was going to say yes, anyway."
"No, you weren't." Jungkook fires back. 
You shoo him away playfully before he finally leave for the shower.
All you can think about is that maybe silver linings are indeed true.
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Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.
You had a roommate back in college for the whole four years, and while it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to you – it was just an experience that didn’t really strike you as something memorable or fun. Min Heeji was a Bio major who was an extreme introvert, and past the casual hi’s and hello’s, you both just never hit it off.
After moving out of your dorm, you rented around Itaewon. You found the unit through a listing you saw on Facebook – some woman who was finding a roommate to split the rent with. You found out later that the reason why the previous people before you left was because she was quite an interesting lady… let’s just say – she was a person who dabbled on the arts of illegal drug trading. Jimin jokingly told you he wondered about how her weed tasted like. Sometimes, you want to smack him on the head.
You pretty much decided on being against roommates for the entirety of your life after that.
But Jeon Jungkook is thankfully not a total hermit, nor does he sell weed.
It’s been long since you lived with somebody, and being under the same roof as him is different – the good kind of different, to be clear.
He’s somewhat a clean freak so it’s almost embarrassing to do anything in his place because it’s always so spot clean.
One thing that you learned though is that he’s a busy man. You had an idea about a packed schedule and non-existent free time for an executive person like him – but the idea feels more real now that you’ve witnessed it.
On the first day of your stay, after your apartment got flooded, he drove you both to work just like he offered. During the night, though, he seemed to have come home late. You slept at around 10pm and never saw him entering the door, and when you woke up the next day, he’s gone, only a note on the fridge telling you that he’s prepared some breakfast you can heat up to eat.
Nonetheless, you feel into quite an easy routine with him.
After a great deal of insistence from your side, Jungkook is rightfully assigned in his bedroom while you lay on the couch. It’s a bit bigger than the one you have on your own, so there’s space for moving around. Even when you wake up with shitty back pains in the mornings, sleeping on his couch is better than sleeping in your current wreck of an apartment as the contractor is already repairing your place.
As of the third day since the incident, they’ve already changed your ceiling, the flooring coming next. It was starting to look good as per your visit.
That made it clearer to you, though, that you’re indeed staying at Jungkook’s for another four days.
Jungkook was so busy that he even worked on a Saturday – told you that it was a hectic week for his team over a shared dinner that you thought will happen only once during your stay with his packed schedule. On Sunday, you kind of assumed that Jungkook will still be at the office, but he surprised you when he came barging in the bathroom while you were in it.
You had your leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, squeezing the bottle of lotion in your palm and spreading the cream over the skin of your shin, adjusting the towel up your thighs so you can cover your entire leg with the product.
You did so mindlessly, part of your usual after-shower routine, completely unassuming of the sound of the doorknob clicking and Jungkook suddenly barging inside the room with a hamper in his hand.
Frozen in your position, your eyes locked into his own as he stepped a foot forward on the tiled floor. You realized the hamper is his laundry.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Jungkook apologized, and he looked genuinely bashful.
“I thought you were at work.” you said, adjusting the towel on the top of your head.
Jungkook raised a brow, but there’s a smile on his lips. “On a Sunday?”
You narrowed your eyes at him which prompted him to laugh. A beat of silence, and then you noticed Jungkook’s gaze. You felt his eyes to the direction of your raised leg on the porcelain tub – and if your own sight didn’t deceive you, you could’ve sworn he’d made a quick glance-over to the expanse of your bare leg before he snapped right back into looking at your face.
“Anyway, I was just gonna do my laundry,” Jungkook twisted himself away from the bathroom’s door. “I’ll wait for you to finish, though. I’m sorry again for barging in.”
At that, you quickly shook your head and planted both your feet on the tiles, standing upright.
“No, it’s fine. I’m done, anyway. Are you in a hurry? I just need to change into some… clothes.” You said, glancing at the heap of some pajama pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom sink.
“Not in a hurry. You can change here.” Jungkook gave you a small smile.
You nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be super quick.”
Your lips curled into an apologetic smile, but Jungkook waved you off.
He took one last look at you before he locked the door – one thing that you forgot to do in the very first place.
You blamed it on your habit of not really being mindful about it since you were used to living alone.
The day after that – one fateful Monday – Jungkook once again was MIA at his own place. You woke around 6 am, and as you got ready for work, you noticed a note on his fridge that he went to work earlier than usual that day, and he’d also be working late so you should lock up at night.
At the company, you did not even catch a single glimpse of him.
You bought some food on your way to his place later that day, thinking that maybe you could share a meal together – nevermind the fact that he had told you he was going to be home late. But you did not expect his “late” would exceed past 11 pm, and since you were also pretty much tired from your own activities for that day, you fell asleep on the couch without making it, lying on the surface with no pillows and comforter over your body.
In your dreams that night, you felt like you were floating.
Somebody has tucked their arms under your knees and neck, taking you off the previous surface you were lying on. The unfamiliar man cradles your body against his, carrying you somewhere and putting you on a much softer place. A mattress. A big, soft, mattress. And you noted that the man smelled of green apples and laundry. An almost familiar scent.
Needless to say, your dream was quite vivid that night.
When you woke up the next morning, you were welcomed with the familiar grey paint of the walls – the white ceiling, and the dark sheets and pillows that surrounded you. A waft of fresh laundry smell. The Iron Man figurine on the top shelf of the cabinet in the corner of the room. The black slippers on the side of the door that are way too big to be yours.
Jungkook.
The strange man in your dreams was Jungkook. And it wasn’t a dream at all.
It was Jeon Jungkook who carried you all the way to his bedroom from the sofa so you could sleep comfortably on it.
When you went out of his room that morning, ready to thank him and tell him he didn’t have to do what he did, feeling bad at the thought of him sleeping on his couch at his own place, Jungkook was nowhere to be found.
But as if it was becoming tradition, there was a note on his fridge that told you: I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my room. I found you uncomfortable on the couch last night. Didn’t cook us breakfast because I have to go to work early again today, but I’ll have food delivered at around 7. Good morning, __ :)
     — Jungkook.
That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.
He arrived an hour after you, just in time as you finished doing the prep for the bibimbap you were planning to eat on your own, assuming Jungkook was going to be late again. When you saw him entering the door, you decided to make the portions of the ingredients bigger, thinking that it was the perfect opportunity to say thank you for the other night.
And you did not forget to say that either.
“Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to…” you trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile across the dining table as you both ate.
Jungkook, with his mouth full of rice – seemingly (thankfully) enjoying the meal you prepared for him – munched on it before he said, “You looked real tired. And uncomfortable, which reminds me, you should sleep in the bedroom as well tonight.”
You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jungkook. Last night was just – uh, I was waiting for you to come home because I didn’t want to just lounge around your living room while you aren’t around, but then I guessed you arrived a little late.”
Out of all the things you’d said, it seemed Jungkook only remembered one thing.
“You were waiting for me to come home?” He said, his hand reaching for the side dish pausing mid-air, eyes trained to you. Curious, his brow piqued in what seemed like genuine intrigue.
You stopped. You went over your words, not realizing those came out of your mouth.
Obviously, you didn’t mean for that to slip out.
So, you shook your head slowly. Hesitantly, you reasoned, “It’s just you’re always in your room first before I fix the couch for bedtime. So.” You shrugged, knowing your explanation didn’t suffice.
Jungkook gave you a nod with small a smile on his lips.
“I’m sorry for making you wait, then. It’s just extra busy at the company these days.”
Your brows furrowed in curiosity, “Yeah, I heard about the collaboration with Kang Tech.”
You found out about it at work that day. It’s in the accounts payable you’ve worked on the past few days, and when you asked Joonhwi and Sol about it, they confirmed the recent moves the company is recently making.
You also realized then that the reason why the mystery woman in the elevator was familiar to you was because you’ve seen pictures of her before.
Of course you’d know her. She’s the woman Jimin’s parents are trying to set him up with. The one and only Kang Heesu. She took over as CEO just very recently at Kang Tech.
Apparently, Blue Nexus and Kang Tech are collaborating on a product that will be announced later during the month – which explains her being at the company oftentimes, Jungkook being busy, drowned with work stuff – them working closely together.
Whatever you felt on that day you saw them together – you’d like to dismiss that as just a blip in the system. Your system, to be exact.
It isn’t any of your business whoever gets around with Jungkook. Whether he’s close with Kang Heesu outside work or not (like what you’ve pondered about ever since finding out about the information of their collaboration) – that’s their thing.
“Yeah, the team’s been working overtime because of it.” Jungkook added to your words from earlier.
“So, you’re more tired than I am,” You pointed out, noting the obvious. He went to work at the ass-crack of dawn, went home late, and whenever he was home – all he faced was his laptop.
You even doubt he was getting enough sleep. There were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the past month you first met him – and even though he carried them with a certain grace, you could still see that some of the shine in his eyes was becoming absent.
You were glad you were able to prepare something for him. Did something for him. You didn’t have to – but you did. Because you wanted to be a helpful roommate.
“Does it show?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning back on the chair, a bashful expression on his face.
You shook your head. “Nope. But yeah, you don’t need to give up your bedroom tonight. I’ll be fine here.”
“I actually bought something. Wait a minute,” Jungkook suddenly said. Your brows furrowed when you watched him saunter over the living room and in towards his bedroom. When he came back to the dining area, he was carrying a huge paper bag. You looked at him, visibly confused. Jungkook cleared his throat as he sat back down on his seat. “I was thinking you could use this. It’s a foldable cushion or whatever so you can sleep more comfortably on the couch.”
You gawked at the paper bag, and then at him.
“What?”
“I went to the mall yesterday and the lady told me this is one of their best sellers… I don’t know. Do you want to have a look at it?” Jungkook said, worry seeping in his tone.
“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”
He nodded.
“Oh.” Was the only thing you could utter. You didn’t really know what to say. “I… this is really thoughtful. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?”
Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.
“Thank you, Jungkook.” You told him sincerely.
“It’s nothing.” He waved you off. “I got that dry-cleaned already, by the way, so you can use it tonight if you really insist on sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook said with a teasing smile.
“That,” you point to the paper bag, “will single-handedly get me to want to live here for another three months.”
Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”
You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.
When you both finished your meal, you offered to do the dishes yourself, but Jungkook was insistent to do it, saying you’ve already done a lot for the day. You begged to differ, but you relented, anyway.
After you showered and made the couch, geeking internally at how soft the cushion he bought was, you couldn’t sleep right away, your mind finding it hard to focus on the lull of the crickets. So, at around 11 pm, you opened your laptop to pull up an X-Files episode, thinking it could condition you into being sleepy.
You promised yourself you were just going to finish one more episode, but the next episode button was too tempting and you found yourself binging the show into the wee hours of the night.
“__?” A voice coming from the far end of the room called, followed by the clicking sound of the lights turning on. With that, you found Jungkook standing on his door with his eyes half-lidded, hands rubbing his chest, seemingly having just woken up from his sleep.
“Jungkook,” you acknowledged him, straying your attention from your show. Jungkook started to trot towards the direction of the kitchen, and your eyes followed him as he stopped in front of his fridge, taking some water out and pouring it into a glass.
After he drank it, he looked at you to ask, “Can’t sleep?” You nodded your head. He made his way towards the couch, pointing at it. “Would you mind?”
“No, do you want to?” You adjusted the duvet you put all over your back to make room for him, and Jungkook placed himself beside you, peering over the screen on your laptop.
“What are you watching?” He asked, voice a little groggy.
“The X-Files. You know the show?”
“Heard about it a few times. Never gotten around to watch it, though,” Jungkook said, leaning on the back of the couch, eyes still glued to your laptop.
You smiled. “Maybe you can start it now.”
“What’s it about?”
“Uh… aliens,” you started off, feeling a little silly about it. Gauging his reaction, you waited for him to give you a judgmental look but he seemed to be intrigued when he looked at you, asking for more details. You perked up that, feeling suddenly excited. “Okay, so, the guy here – his name’s Mulder. He’s an FBI agent who’s tasked on cases that have, you know, unexplainable nature. Basically, he believes in aliens, all that ET stuff,” you explained. Right on time, Gillian Anderson appears on frame. Pointing at her, you looked at Jungkook as you introduced her to him, “And the woman – she’s so pretty – that’s Scully. She’s a skeptic. She’s an FBI agent who’s also a scientist and was assigned to be with him to debunk his work.”
“So, they investigate cases together?” Jungkook added.
You nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s different for each episode. There’s the alien storyline which is like, the main plot of the show, but there’s the fun filler episodes. Monster of the week, they call it. I’m rewatching one of those right now ‘cause they’re fun and don’t have a backstory.”
“It sounds good,” Jungkook looked impressed, training his eyes back on the show.
You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make a conversation, but he seemed genuinely interested as you both watched the show, which tickled your excitement more. You’ve tried to get Jimin into it but he wasn’t really an avid fan of watching long shows, so you’ve given up on trying to convince him to be as obsessive of the show as you.
“Do they kiss?” Jungkook suddenly asked mid-episode, brows furrowed as he watched Mulder wiped something off the side of Scully’s lips. It’s the episode when Scully just got back from being abducted.
Amused, you looked at him and let out a chuckle. Jungkook turned to look at you, confused at the reaction.
“Hm?”
You shook your head. “No, it’s just funny. So, there’s a thing in this show, right? Scully and Mulder are not supposed to be a couple, but they act like one.”
Jungkook let out a seemingly enlightened, “Ah.” Then he looked at your screen again, “I’m watching it right now out of context and I’m assuming they’re a couple.”
“Right? They have such insane chemistry. It’s why I love this show so much.”
“Wait. They never get together? Or kiss, romantically?” Jungkook asked curiously.
“They kiss on the seventh season. We’re on the second one.”
“Wow,” He breathed, genuinely surprised. “That’s a long wait.”
“I know,” you chuckled.
You both sat beside each other as the episode finished. Jungkook would have some questions, and you happily answered each one. It was also fun to share some lore about the show – and you didn’t know if you were coming off too geeky about it – you were just unbelievably excited that he seemed to genuinely like it.
Time passed without you both noticing, and it was 2:23 am when you became hesitant on clicking the next episode button.
“Do you still want to watch another one or…” You trailed off, eyes glued to the screen, waiting to hear Jungkook’s response. But then a few seconds passed, and you didn’t receive one. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened when you see the state Jungkook was in.
He was leaning far back on the couch with his head resting on the backrest, arms crossed over his chest, lips slightly parted with his eyes shut closed. You could see his chest rising and falling from the way he breathed in and out of sleep, looking quite peaceful regardless of his seemingly uncomfortable position.
You shut your mouth and closed your laptop quietly, trying to be careful with your movements so as to not disturb him and accidentally wake him up. Stretching your back to lean down, your breath hitched as you tried to set the laptop down on the coffee table, not daring to graze any part of Jungkook’s body, especially when his thigh was so closed to your own.
When you successfully put away the device, you went back to sitting beside him, contemplating on your next move.
You ended up staring at him, noting the way his biceps are bulging out of the sleeves of his white shirt with a thin material from their crossed position. Your eyes trailed down to the veins on his forearms, and naturally, you focused in on the one with the swirls of ink around it. It was a body of art on the first look – but looking at it at that moment – close up and free, you took time to identify the drawings on his skin.
There was that snake that trailed down close to his hand, the skeletal rock n’ roll hand, and the script that says “rather be dead than cool”. It was a shame that you couldn’t see from your current view the flower tattoo you were always curious about, nevertheless, the entirety of his inked arm was just… breathtaking, to say the least.
You wanted to ask him what they meant – or if they even meant something. You knew by now he only got them in college – when he moved to the US – and you were just curious about how he decided to get them; about the backstory, anything… Would love to trace down your fingers on his skin as he tells you the exact moment.
And then you realized what you were doing and suddenly looked away.
You felt like a creep. What were you doing, staring at him while he was unaware, unconscious in his sleep? It was not right, and you were supposed to scoot over to the edge to give him plenty of space all for himself.
But as you looked at him again, your eyes stopped at his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at it.
Again.
His nose was something you weirdly have a liking to, and there’s a scar on his cheek that once again bubbled up another layer of curiosity within you.
“Stop it.” You mumbled out loud – not loud enough for Jungkook to hear – but just enough to snap yourself out of the trance you were in.
It was stupid. So stupid. To stare at a sleeping man and have those thoughts inside your head. Jungkook would never do anything like this to you, and at that sentiment, you stood up from the couch to get away.
You caught a sight of the duvet that you used a while ago. As you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to be in dire need of one, so you made quiet steps to put it over him, stopping your breathing in case you did it too loud and he wakes up.
As you carefully laid out the blanket on top of his body, Jungkook stirred, and your breath hitched as you stopped on your tracks.
He mumbled something incoherent, his neck craning to lay on his cheek. Regardless, he stayed on his position, arms still crossed, seemingly going back to his deep sleep instantly.
You stepped out in front of him, letting out a breath of relief.
Standing there for a few seconds, you wondered about where you were going to stay. Jungkook was on the couch and unlike him – you could not carry him to his room without him noticing.
Looking at the direction of said room, you thought about staying there for the night, but decide against it. You didn’t get his permission to do so, it’d be rude—
But the couch is only one, though. And you could feel a yawn ready to come out of your own mouth, sleep lurking at the back of your head.
You could try to wake Jungkook up to tell him to go to his room so he could sleep more comfortably, but you couldn’t do it. The past few days, he had been so busy with work and seemed like he wasn’t getting enough rest. What if you woke him up and he couldn’t go back to sleep anymore? That would just make you feel bad.
Getting the pillow strewn over the edge, you walked towards the direction and fixed it against the arm rest, sitting on the spot and making yourself comfortable on it. Of course, it wasn’t – you were craning your neck too far to the side to try to lay your head, and your body was sprawled in a weird sitting and lying position.
It was fine, though. Jungkook was about two feet away from you, and you felt like you could sleep in the state.
But it was a few long minutes before it completely overtook you.
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There’s a feeling of a hard plane against your back when you feel yourself waking up.
You’re in a curled position, hands tucked under your cheeks. As much as you’re starting to slowly feel conscious, you’re still not a hundred percent aware of your surroundings just yet. It’s why you ignore the blow of hot air against the crook of your neck.
When you blearily open your eyes, you’re welcomed with the sight of the back of the grey couch you’ve accustomed yourself with over the past few days. The white foldable cushion you’re lying on. The familiar scent of Jungkook’s apartment.
It’s another usual morning, as far as you’re concerned.
So, you stretch an arm up as well as your leg, groggily mumbling something as you go back to closing your eyes again to hopefully sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.
“Hmm…”
At the sudden sound, your eyes snap open, surprised at the embodied voice that came out somewhere that’s definitely not from your own mouth. It was close, though – something close to your neck; you felt it so – and at that realization, your eyes trail down to your waist, and your breath catches in your throat when you see an arm wrapped around it.
Under your head is another arm that adorns a familiar sleeve tattoo.
When you crane your neck to look behind you, you’re welcomed by Jungkook’s locks of black and messy hair, his face apparently buried in the crook of your neck.
He must’ve felt you move because he stirs in his position, mumbling something, arm tightening around you.
You feel your heart starting to beat faster than usual as you feel the tips of Jungkook’s fingers resting on the bare skin of your stomach due to your camisole riding up, and your eyes continue to widen when you saw that the shirt he’s worn last night is now lying haphazardly across the coffee table where your laptop is.
When Jungkook pushes himself against you closer, that’s when you feel something hard against the cleft of your ass.
“Oh my god!”
“What the fuck!”
“I’m so sorry!” You immediately say, retreating your hands that just pushed him off the couch once everything registered in your head.
You just… slept with each other! You woke up with Jungkook spooning you! The hard plane against your back that you felt earlier was his chest and the hot air blowing in your ear was his breath! You both fell asleep together on the couch!
Jungkook – the poor man – visibly winces as he cradles the back of his head, adjusting himself on the floor after you forcefully yeeted him off the couch.
He didn’t expect that, of course he didn’t! He still looks like he’s half asleep when you kneel on the floor in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and craning your neck to check if you’ve done damage to his head.
“What the hell was that for?” Jungkook asks, still lost about what just happened.
You grimace as you hesitantly put your palm over the back of his head and rub to soothe the pain you’ve caused him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just surprised and shocked when I–”
You stopped speaking when you notice that Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes half-lidded from sleep. Stopping your ministration on the back of his head, you retreat your hands to yourself and look away.
“We slept together.”
“What?” Jungkook asks, his tone incredulous, but more like confused. When you train your eyes to him again, you see him looking down on his body and then yours.
Your cheeks heat up when you realize what you just said.
“Oh my god, no! Not slept slept with each other! I mean, we slept together. Like, literally.” You say, looking at him in panic.
Jungkook furrows his brows. And then after a beat of silence, he lets out a low, “Oh.”
“Oh?” You parrot back.
“Yeah, oh,” He says drily. Jungkook rubs his eyes with his fists and then looks at you again. “I’m sorry, I feel disoriented. I just woke up.”
You wince at that, feeling bad for pushing him again.
It was just a reflex thing, okay! Especially when you felt that certain something in your ass.
When Jungkook stands up from the floor, you notice the strings of his grey shorts getting undone, and your eyes betray you as they pay a look at the noticeable bulge on his crotch.
Jesus H. Fucking Christ.
You stand up quickly, following after him, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.
Okay, boo-fucking-hoo! Men get boners in the mornings. What’s the big deal about it?
“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair back, and you have to physically look away and try to busy yourself by looking for your phone so you can ignore his naked chest on display and his abs and stupid big arms.
You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.
“Six thirty.”
“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.
You’ve never heard him let out so many curses before.
“What? It’s still early.” you say, in case he was referring to work.
Jungkook shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I was supposed to get ready at five am sharp. Need to go there early.”
“Oh.”
He groans, and the sound makes your stomach feel a little weird.
“I have to go shower,” Jungkook says, picking up his shirt from the coffee table. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“Huh?” You realize what he’s talking about and is then quick to shake your head. “No, not your fault. I, uh, you fell asleep on the couch last night and I didn’t want to wake you.”
He nods, more like to himself. “How did we…?” Jungkook points between you, eyeing the couch.
“I didn’t want to use your bed without your permission, so I slept on the couch as well,” But then you decide to add, “But I didn’t sleep beside you, I was like –” you point to the edge of the couch, “there.”
“Ah,” Jungkook follows your eyes, and then nods. “Okay.”
“Yeah.” you purse your lips into a thin line. “Sorry about that. I should’ve just woken you up, huh?”
“Nah, it’s fine.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Well, is it okay if I use the shower first?”
“Of course.”
Jungkook smiles before he saunters towards the bathroom. You try not to stare at the hard lines of his retreating back, taping down to his narrow waist.
You failed to do that, obviously.
Sighing out loud when you’re sure he can’t hear you, you busy yourself in the kitchen to make some toast.
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After work, you paid a quick visit to your apartment to see how it’s going, since you’re supposed to be able to come back tomorrow.
Your building manager told you that you can pretty much move back already, but there’s no water yet, so you will still have to stay at Jungkook’s place for the last time. At least for another night.
Speaking of him, when you step out on your porch, you see him in front of his own unit, back turned to you, opening his door.
“Hey,” you call. Jungkook turns on his heel, and he smiles as he sees you.
“Hey,” He greets, his hand pausing on the door. Jungkook gives you his undivided attention as he looks at you. “Your apartment’s fine now?”
You nod happily, grinning widely. “Yeah. But I have no water yet. They’re turning it on tomorrow.” You saunter towards his direction and stop beside him. Pointing to the paper bags in his hands, you ask, “What’s that?”
Jungkook lifts them up. “Soju and Midday Miso take-out.” Then, hesitantly, he looks at you curiously. “Do you drink?”
That prompts you to laugh.
“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”
He nods his head. “Yeah. I was gonna ask you to drink with me… but if you’re not up for it, I’ll just be in my room.”
You cock your head to the side.
“What’s the occasion?”
Jungkook chuckles. “Nothing. Just thought I could loosen up.”
You nod in understanding.
You think about asking him how work’s been, but decide against it, not wanting to pry in case he doesn’t want to talk about any of it.
As you both enter his apartment, it’s almost so domesticated how you take off your shoes and put them in the rack in the threshold. Jungkook wears his black sliders while you wear your baby blue ones. Following him into the living room, it’s almost wild to see yourself being so familiar with his place already.
“Where can we watch The X-Files?” Jungkook asks suddenly after he set the bags on the table, going for the remote and turning on the TV.
You look at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that.
You answer nonetheless, and Jungkook clicks on the show once it shows up on the screen.
“Do you really want to start with the pilot episode?” You chuckle when he hovers over it.
Jungkook grins. “I enjoyed it last night. Maybe this could be a new favorite.”
“Woah,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Do you know how much I have to convince Jimin to watch this show?”
“Jimin doesn’t like shows. I wanted him to watch Suits but he said he couldn’t stand Harvey Specter – which is fair.”
“Oh my god, that’s also what he told me when I recommended Suits!” You say. You narrow your eyes at him, excited about the information. “So… you like Suits?”
Jungkook nods. “Sort of like a guilty pleasure? I used to watch it a lot in college. My roommate studied law and started telling me about how inaccurate it was, but it’s fun regardless,” He says with a shrug. “Sue me.”
“I know, right! People always wanna be smart about procedural dramas, but I think it’s just camp they can’t comprehend,” You shake your head, feeling a certain high bubble inside you. You lean your elbows on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, thoughts on Jessica Pearson?”
Jungkook grins. “A dream.”
You breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’m so glad you have the correct opinion.”
Jungkook laughs at that, and you begin to eat the take-out he bought, The X-Files playing on the big screen before you.
“You went home early today,” you comment as you take the shot glass he offers you.
A few minutes has passed already and you’re beginning to open the bottles of soju, Midday Miso take-out boxes all finished.
“Managed to finish early tonight. That’s probably why I wanted to drink,” Jungkook says, tipping his head back to drink from his own bottle. “Also, it’s your last day here.”
You nod. With a teasing smile, you jab, “Are you going to miss me?”
Jungkook looks at you briefly.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.
He chuckles. “I liked your little dance in the kitchen last Sunday.”
Your lips part, recalling that time when you reheated some pizza during the night. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was in his bedroom at that time!
“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.
Jungkook must’ve noticed, because he chuckles and begins to sound comforting when he says, “Some part of it, yeah. Megan Thee Stallion would love to perform with you, I think.”
“Oh my god, no,” You giggle, covering your face with your hands because if he caught you during that part, it means he saw you trying to throw it back. “Yeah, I think I’m packing my things right now.”
Jungkook laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he does so, overjoyed at your tactics.
“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”
You squint your eyes. “Just because I feel sorry for pushing you off the couch this morning.”
He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, that hurt. I think I have a bump on my head right now.”
You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”
Jungkook presses his lips together and nods. You grow concerned, ready to lean over the table to check the back of his head, but as you do so, Jungkook makes a sound of stifling his laugh and you realize he’s fucking with you.
“That’s so mean.” you say, going back to your side and pouting at him.
“Not meaner than you pushing me off the couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Ugh, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, 's all!”
Jungkook laughs and nods his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. I have a habit of being able to sleep anywhere.”
You scrunch your face. “Me too.”
And then a beat of silence.
Jungkook tips his head back for another sip of his alcohol. When he looks at you again, a gentle smile is playing on his lips.
“I had a good night sleep, though. Did you?”
He looks at you with something in his eyes – something soft and gentle – his gaze making the hair on your nape stand and your cheeks burn.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.
You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.
Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.
“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.
“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.
You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”
When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.
“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”
Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”
You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”
“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.
You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.
Jungkook bursts out in laughter.
“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”
“Are you?” You pout.
Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.
“Alright…”
You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.
“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”
“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”
“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”
Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”
He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.
“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.
You nod your head. His playful smile drops.
“Are you serious?”
You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”
He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.
“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”
You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.
“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”
Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.
“Oh.”
You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”
“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”
“You just thought what?”
“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.
You grin. “Interesting insight.”
“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.
When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.
Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.
“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.
“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”
You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”
“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”
You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”
Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.
“How do you know her?”
“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.
Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.
“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”
You can’t help but let out a scoff.
“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”
He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”
“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.
It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.
Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.
But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.
Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.
“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”
“Yeah.”
“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”
The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.
But of what?
You shake off the idea in your head.
“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.
“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.
You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.
It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.
“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.
Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.”
You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.
“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”
“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”
Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”
“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.
“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”
“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.
You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”
Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”
“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.
“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”
When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.
Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”
“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”
“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.
“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.
“Like all of them?”
“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.
“Oh.”
“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.
“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”
You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.
Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”
“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”
You try to think about it.
“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”
Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”
You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”
“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”
It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.
But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.
But right now, his question feels real.
If he is flirting with you… do you like it?
You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.
Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.
“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.
You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”
Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”
He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.
“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.
“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.
“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.
You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.
You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.
“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.
“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.
Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.
It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.
Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?
“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.
That makes them part.
You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.
“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.
Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.
“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.
You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.
And you know Jungkook notices.
“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.
His only response is a small, gentle hum.
A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.
You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.
It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.
You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.
When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.
“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.
You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.
He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.
It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.
“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”
“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.
“Yeah?”
“Hm.”
“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”
“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.
“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”
You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.
“Do you want it to be?”
“I don’t mind.”
You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”
You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”
You giggle against his chest.
“Carry me before I pass out.”
Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”
“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.
“Fine.”
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TAGLIST: @mortal-body-timelesssoul @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lachimolalajeon @miniesjams32 @parkinglot-nights @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aznstoner @chuberry22 @tae-hibiscus @jungkooksmytype
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all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3
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a-fandom-reimagined · 1 year ago
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< PREVIOUS PART
"Diana, you have exhausted valuable resources and the skills of our healers for one woman. To what end? She will die anyway. Maybe not today or tomorrow. Maybe not a year from now or ten but she will die. You're just delaying the inevitable."
Diana had few moments in her life where she could truthfully say she was angry with her mother. But in that moment she almost hated her. The Amazons were supposed to be messengers of peace and truth and justice. What happened to her mother while she was away? What happened to the fearsome woman who raised and taught her to stand for what was right? This wasn't the first time they'd had this argument and as your life hung in the balance, Diana doubted it would be the last.
You hadn't uttered more than a few sentences since arriving on the sandy shores of Themyscira and that was two weeks ago. You'd been in and out of consciousness every since. Never awake longer than a second or two and no one could tell Diana why. The healers had done all they could. The rest was up to you.
Diana gritted her teeth and rose from your bedside. "You and I are not having this conversation again, mama. Y/N is staying here until she wakes up. The healers will attend her for as long as she requires their attention and that is final. You gave me your word and you will stand by it."
"Perhaps I gave it too hastily."
Fire and hatred burned in Diana's eyes but the Queen of the Amazons did not--would not--falter. "I know you've formed something of an…attachment…to this girl--"
Diana laughed, tearfully. Attachment. What a paltry word to describe what she felt for you. This all-consuming yearning and devotion that kept her up nights and drove her to kneel at your bedside for hours with no regard to her own hunger and comfort. "Attachment," Diana repeated, laughing again.
"She is not like us, my daughter" the queen continued. "She is not like you--"
"She doesn't have to be! I don't need her to be like me. I don't need her to do anything but live, mama!"
"I do not mean to be cruel but if this is what her ailing has done to you…I don't want to know what would become of you if she perished."
Diana for the first time since coming home was inclined to agree with her mother. She opened her mouth to speak, some of her earlier anger dissipating, when a sharp breath stole away her words.
Diana whirled.
You rubbed sleep from your eyes, wincing as you struggled to get comfortable in the narrow cot on which you lay.
Diana stumbled to your bedside and fell to her knees.
You gave her a weak smile, bleary-eyed smile. Your hair was a bird's nest atop your head and yet to Diana, you'd never looked more beautiful.
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You hit the ground hard not for the first time today.
"Dammit," you hissed.
Diana leaned into your line of sight with an apologetic smile. "Are you alright?"
"No I'm not alright!" you snapped. "A toddler could have blocked that kick and I just…I just," you screwed your eyes shut and breathed through the pain, the embarrassment, and frustration. "I'm not the same, D. My body…it's not the same."
She dropped to her knees and gently straddled your waist. Taking your face in her hands, she kissed your lids again and again until you opened them. "It's only been a week, my love. It could take months even years to remind your body of what your mind never forgot. Give it time."
It had been four months since you woke up in Themyscira's infirmary. Four long grueling months spent trying to remember how to walk and care for yourself. Fighting off pain and infection with strange herbs and medicinal techniques you'd never heard of and you were tired. So, so tired of being weak and fragile on an island surrounded by women who were the very definition of everything you used to be.
"But I don't want it to take months or years!" tears of frustration filled your eyes.
"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice." Diana carefully rolled off of you and into the grass.
"Someone did this to me, Diana. I could have died."
"I know… And when you are well my love, we will find them and you will have your justice. But whether you like it or not it will take time. And if you will have me, I will be here with you. For every step of the way. And every step after that."
REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | GIF?
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iobsessoverfictionalmen · 1 year ago
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Warnings: canon typical violence, Buffy spoilers, magic and obsession.
Strolling into the library at Sunnydale High School, you were greeted with a very odd sight. Jenny Calendar and Amy Madison standing opposite each other proclaiming that they loved Xander more than the other did.
“What is going on?”
Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed his forehead, “Xander convinced Amy to do a love spell in order to break Cordelia’s heart because she broke his. The spell went awry and now every woman in Sunnydale is obsessed with him except Cordelia.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re not?” Giles and Xander asked in unison. Giles put his glasses back on and stared at you.
You shook your head, “Nope.”
“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that.”
“What are you feeling now?” Giles questioned.
You were about to answer when Amy spoke “Goddess Hecate, hear my will! Remove this challenger from my sight!”
“Not good!” Xander cried, jumping out of the way.
Red lights swirled around her but instead of attacking you, it turned on her.
“Foolish girl,” Jenny clicked her tongue and crossed her arms over her chest. “If there’s a goddess of witchcraft then there are gods that govern other areas that belong to the same pantheon. You asked Hecate to protect you from a challenger.”
“Another word for challenger is fighter.” Giles breathed, “The reason the obsession spell didn’t affect you is because a god has already claimed you as theirs. I would classify this as a battle field and since Amy’s spell backfired on her, pushing her forcefully into the air, I know which god has claimed you.”
So did you, “It’s Ares.” You stated.
Giles nodded once, “Let’s return everything to normal, including Buffy and then we’ll find a way to break Ares’ hold on you.”
“What happened to Buffy?”
“Amy turned her into a rat and she’s loose in the school.” Xander explained, climbing up from the floor.
“Oh.”
“Just another lovely day in Sunnydale.” Giles complained.
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animasola86 · 20 days ago
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LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH4
After agreeing to become their little girl, you are woken up by Mommy, who has special plans to ease you into your first day of your new life.
soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader
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WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Pet names. Dom/sub undertones. Shared shower. Nudity. Vaginal fingering/assisted masturbation. “Self” care/makeover/waxing. Angst/humiliation. Hurt/comfort. (More notes under the cut!)
WORDS: 8k 🔷️ READ ON AO3 🔷️ 1–2–3–4–5–6
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A/N: This chapter is a direct continuation of Chapter 2 and keeps focusing on Reader's new life as the Little Girl of Mommy and Daddy. All following chapters (unless stated otherwise) will follow the past-timeline and show how Reader ended up like she did in chapters 1 and 3. (For more info on Reader, check out the Notes in Chapter 1.) ❗ Please read THIS if you're confused about the tags I listed this under!
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Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5
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Several months earlier
You woke up after that first night, completely knocked out and overwhelmed, to someone gently shaking you, lips pressing to your pillow-wrinkled cheek, a soft voice cooing for you to wake up. Mommy was there, and while your first instinct was to groan and turn back around and ask for five more minutes, not quite realizing where you were, she basically dragged you out of bed and into the bathroom.
While she certainly meant well, you felt very uncomfortable as she helped you out of the clothes you slept in and into the shower. You wanted to protest, against the fact that you were naked in front of a stranger, and also, didn't you just shower last night? With your mind still hazy with sleep, you wondered if rich people did it like this, showering every night and every morning, possibly several times a day? They definitely didn't have to worry about too much water consumption, apparently. But then the strangest thing happened: the woman you were supposed to call Mommy stripped down as well and stepped in after you, and your muddled mind was silenced immediately.
You were so surprised and more than taken aback by it that you just stood there, with your back to her, not even daring to take another look at her beautiful body. She was a bit taller than you and had all the right curves in all the right places, perfect skin, not a single hair anywhere on her body, except for her long black locks that she wore in a messy bun atop her head, and when she stepped behind you, her hands found your shoulders before she wrapped your unruly tresses around her fingers and brought them up in the same fashion, then slipped a hair tie over the mess to keep it in place.
Then she leaned past you (her perfect breasts pressing against your shoulder blades) and turned the shower on, and while you expected to be hit by either ice cold or scorching hot water, the temperature was perfect right away. That alone was a luxury you'd never experienced before. She angled the shower head to spray down below your chin to keep your head and hair dry.
You were still just standing there, baffled and embarrassed to be this close to such a gorgeous woman (though your main concern was how you felt like a literal child whose Mommy had to help them showering, but you figured that was part of her wanting to take care of you). As you woke up more and more, you became more and more aware and self-conscious of your neglected body. For months, self-care hadn't been an option for you, too much hassle, and for what? But now you wished you could have prepared yourself for this experience in some way, shaved maybe? Made yourself more presentable?
The question remained: what did this woman see in you to treat you like this?
Your anxiety spiked when you felt her soap-covered hands on your body, first on your arms, then she went straight to your breasts, cupping them, squeezing them lightly, rubbing the suds into your skin. You froze, holding your breath, clenching your hands into fists. It was such an intimate gesture, you weren't ready for it. A little sob escaped you, and you felt her pausing, before she leaned closer again, pressing her body against your backside.
“Are you okay, honey?” she asked directly into your ear, her velvety voice causing you to shiver deeply. “You gotta tell me if you don't like what I do, okay? This is for you. If you don't want it, I'll stop.”
You took a shuddering breath. “N-no,” you urged out. “I... I mean... it's okay... it's just... all so new...”
Her laugh echoed through the steam-filled room. “Never been touched by a woman before, sweet girl?”
“N-never had somebody... take care of me like this...” you whispered breathlessly, the thick air and her closeness making you dizzy.
You felt her lips on your cheek, the touch lingering as she spoke softly: “You better get used to this. We have so much love and care to give, you have no idea.”
It could have sounded like a threat, but you closed your eyes and nodded, leaning against her when she continued the gentle groping of your boobs. She chuckled again, bringing her lips down to your shoulder. Her hands moved lower eventually, rubbing over your stomach and down your hips, and you still couldn't move, you just endured (or silently enjoyed it?), but when you could feel her stepping around you, one of her hands slipping down your front while the other curved around your rear, you flinched badly.
Your feet squeaked on the tiled floor, and you almost lost your footing, but instead of getting away from her, she grabbed you a little harder, her hands on your waist, pulling you back, gently but firmly. Your chest was rising and falling faster, your heart nearly exploding behind your ribs. She shushed you, kissing along your neck as she returned her hands where she initially wanted to bring them.
“It's okay, sweetheart, let Mommy see, yes?” she cooed into your ear, and you stiffened, inhaling deeply and holding your breath as her hand brushed down your tense belly and directly between your legs.
You felt so embarrassed. You were not as spotless as she was, some would say natural, and while you let everything grow because you couldn't care about it anymore in the months of your slow downfall, you wished you could go back to not caring now. But you cared, you didn't want this woman to touch you in places nobody had touched in a very long time, yourself included, at least not this intimately.
You tried to squirm away, but she grabbed your ass in response, holding you in place. You let out a quiet yelp. “It's alright,” she said calmly, her lips back at your ear, the touch scorching hot. “I will not hurt you. I will not judge you. You are a beautiful girl, sweetheart, and nothing will ever hide that.” As she spoke, she started rubbing her fingers along your slit, a gentle touch, just a caress, every stroke of her hand accentuated by more soothing words. “You deserve to be loved, my sweet thing. Loved and touched and pampered. Do not be shy, do not be embarrassed. There's no need. You are beautiful. So beautiful...”
Her voice lulled you, made you relax into her ministrations, and as she finished her soothing pep talk, her fingers dipped between your labia, a little gasp escaped you, your lips parting, and before you knew it, she had caught it by pressing her mouth to yours, kissing you softly as she rubbed her fingertip slowly up and down until it prodded your entrance, and while her tongue pushed into your mouth, her digit pushed into your clenching cunt.
Your moan was swallowed by her own little inhale. Her other hand slid up your back until her palm was pressed to your neck, holding you steady as she continued to kiss and finger you, and all you could do was melt into her caresses, meeting her tongue with your own, gliding your lips against hers, even grinding your hips into her hand. Your head was spinning, breathless and overwhelmed as you were, and the more she touched you, the less vulnerable you felt.
The way she moved her fingers (she seemed to have added another one) inside you, slow and careful, pressing as deep as her knuckles allowed, fingernails scraping gently along your tight walls, it all felt very good very quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut, your breaths rasping out of you, new air barely able to reach your lungs as she kept plunging her tongue into your mouth. You felt like floating, surrounded by warm water and even warmer steam, pressed against a soft body, her hand closing around your nape, and all those touches sent more tingles down your spine, shivers and shudders, that all gathered low in your stomach, and lower, making your clit throb.
And it was when she suddenly pressed her thumb against that sensitive bundle of nerves that you yelped against her mouth, eyes flying open, a strange assortment of white and black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. Your legs trembled badly the more she rubbed at your clit, her fingers still plunging in and out, a little curl to them now, hitting different spots deep inside you. You stared at her, or tried to, she looked blurry, and you tried to blink your eyes back into focus, but instead a loud moan was ripped from your throat when she moved her fingers and her thumb in a clawing motion, pressing directly against your clit and g-spot.
You shook, your limbs twitching, and your hands found her waist for support as you gasped for air like a fish out of water, your eyes rolling back, your head reeling, and for a moment you felt as if you'd left your own body, floating away, without a care in the world...
You came back when she pulled her fingers out and kept caressing your sensitive labia, and every brush against your hood gave you another deep shudder. You clung to her, your forehead resting on her shoulder, your breaths labored and raw, your heart thundering in your chest. She rubbed your back with her free hand, soothing you with words you couldn't understand. The first that did make it through the cotton in your head, dug themselves deep into your soul:
“Good girl.”
A smile appeared on your trembling lips, the praise like an additional caress down your spine. You found yourself hugging the woman you barely knew and somehow trusted a lot more now, your arms snaking around her waist as you pressed yourself into her. She embraced you gently, holding you as the water sprayed against your shoulder. You felt her lips on your forehead, her exhale warm against your skin.
The rest of the shower was a blur. She kept washing you, rubbing her hands over your warm skin, and she even nudged you to touch her as well, which was yet another overwhelming experience as you weighed her big breasts in your small hands.
She continued to be gentle and patient with you, giving you time when you needed it, but also pushed you a little to get you out of your old habits. As embarrassing as it should have been, it was also refreshing and comforting to know that even if you might fall back into your dark hole whenever new and old doubts would resurface, Mommy was there to pull you back out.
By the time you were out of the shower and wrapped in a large, fluffy towel, a knock sounded on the door. You froze, but the other woman just huffed a sigh and walked to open it, still as naked as before, no shame whatsoever. Your eyes widened when you saw the tall man appearing in the door frame, his eyes first grazing the woman before they wandered to you. He smiled softly.
“Good morning,” Daddy said, his smile widening when he saw you blushing deeply, pulling the towel tighter around your body. He looked back at Mommy then, raising an eyebrow. “You beat me to it, huh?” he mused.
The woman laughed, nudging his bearded chin with her index finger. “Gotta be faster, old man,” she teased with a soft laugh.
You watched the two silently, frozen to the spot, acutely aware of just wearing a towel, your exposed skin warming up badly as your eyes wandered from Mommy's naked backside to Daddy's tall frame behind her. He wasn't wearing a suit today, but a tight shirt and formfitting sweatpants, and his hair was tousled, cheeks a little flushed. Had he been running? Probably, with a body like that –
“How are you feeling today, darling?” he addressed you, ripping you from your thoughts. Your face heated up even more.
“Really good,” you whispered shyly, chewing on your bottom lip as you met his gaze.
“I'm glad,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, his eyes crinkling.
“And she'll feel even better today. I'm taking her to the salon,” Mommy interrupted the moment by pressing a hand to Daddy's chest. “You can have her tomorrow.”
He sighed, bringing his gaze back to the woman in front of him. “Don't do anything she doesn't want to do, okay?” he told her quietly. “Don't scare her away on her first day...”
She laughed, turning back to you. Your heart skipped a beat. “Don't worry, we already established our bond, didn't we, honey?”
You lowered your eyes, your blush spreading all over your shoulders. “Yes, Mommy,” you whispered. It still felt a little weird to call her that, but seeing her reaction to it made up for the awkwardness. She mewled softly and turned around fully, extending her arms until she could pull you into a tight hug.
“My sweet girl,” she cooed, kissing your hairline. You leaned against her warm body, meeting Daddy's curious gaze over her shoulder.
“You'll be okay,” he told you with a gentle smile. “But remember: you can say no, we will not force you to do anything you don't feel comfortable with. Won't we?” he added pointedly, making Mommy turn her head to him. She gave him a smirk and a wink, and he sighed.
She let go of you then, taking a step back to him. “Go take your own shower now,” she told him, poking his chest. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her a little closer, eyeing her darkly.
“Don't tell me what to do,” he whispered.
“Make me,” she replied with a chuckle.
You watched them with growing curiosity, still wondering what kind of relationship these two actually had. For a moment they just stared at each other, before Mommy leaned up on her toes and pressed her full lips against his.
“Let us have our Girls Day, okay, papito?”
“Fine,” he said with an exhale, his other hand moving along her bare shoulders up to her nape before he grabbed the messy bun on top of her head and pulled her back a little. “But I mean it: I still want to recognize her later.”
Her turn to sigh. “Of course, don't worry,” she replied, putting her hand on his cheek, giving it a soft pat. “Unless she wants a complete makeover. This is about her,” she added, turning her head back to you. “Isn't it, sweet thing?”
You blushed when the attention was back on you.
“We'll do whatever makes you happy, okay, honey?”
“Okay,” you mouthed a little breathlessly. Your eyes wandered between the two adults (the longer you stood watching them, the smaller and younger you felt, no matter the fact that you were technically an adult yourself). You weren't used to all this attention, but it grew on you. It made you feel warm and seen (even if you'd prefer to wear more clothes while being looked at).
Daddy let go of Mommy then, taking a half-step into the bathroom. “Can I get a hug before I leave you in Mommy's care, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, extending a hand towards you.
Your body's immediate reaction was a sudden jerk, a clear indication that you wanted to sink into his strong arms and never emerge from them again, but your mind was still a little timid, and then there was Mommy, stepping between you and the tall man.
“Get away, you're all gross and sweaty. I just cleaned her!” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
He lowered his hand slowly, his eyes still on you. There was a darkness within them, a strange look that made your stomach twist in a weird way, warm and tense, like a throb, a clench, an itch. “I... I don't mind,” you heard yourself stammering. Before you knew it, you took a step forward, your bare feet padding on the tiles, and when his smile widened, you extended a hand to put it onto his big palm. At the same time as he pulled you closer, you heard Mommy sighing. She stepped away, and you hoped she wouldn't be too mad, but you couldn't resist him – and the urge growing inside your own body.
He wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed to his chest. It was warm, his scent filling your nostrils, filling your head, a mixture of body wash and sweat, a masculine smell that made you dizzy, but in a good way. You carefully snaked your arms around his waist and held onto him, closing your eyes for a moment.
“My sweet girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Have a good time today, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” you murmured into him.
He squeezed you a little more at that, his inhale loud and almost surprised. As he embraced you, you suddenly felt another presence behind you. Mommy's arms joined yours in encircling the tall man as she pressed herself into you. His arms loosened, leaving you, pulling her closer against your back. You gasped a little as they hugged you tightly, and you would have never expected to feel this comfortable in a Mommy-and-Daddy-sandwich.
It was certainly strange to go from nobody caring about you, to having these two people taking such an interest in you. And they weren't lying. They had a lot of love and care to give, you could feel it in the way they held you and spoke to you. And you'd only met them yesterday! How was this possible?
But you didn't want to question it, you just wanted to melt into their warmth and strength, enjoy the moment, neither look back nor ahead. It felt good. Good enough to bring tears into your eyes. A little sob escaped you, and you buried your face firmer into Daddy's chest. Mommy let go first, and before you knew it, Daddy's hands were on your shoulders, leaning you back a little.
Looking up, you realized your vision was blurry. As you tried to blink your eyes into focus, you felt his fingers wiping at your wet cheeks, a concerned look on his handsome face.
“I... I'm fine,” you murmured quickly, sniffling quietly. “These are... happy tears...”
His relieved exhale hit your forehead before he leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. Meeting his gaze, you couldn't help it, you turned your head a little bit and used his closeness to brush your lips fully against his. His hands held you still for a moment, the kiss, if you could call it that, a lingering press, before he leaned back with a deep sigh.
“Sorry, darling, today's Mommy's day,” he whispered, giving you a wink. “We can expand on this tomorrow, okay?” As his fingers curled around your ear, his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip. “Trust me, I can't wait...”
You gave him a shy smile, your face properly burning now. He eventually let go of you fully and stepped back. Mommy put her hands on your shoulders. “See you later, Daddy,” she cooed.
“Bye, ladies, have fun,” he said with a little wave, his eyes fixed on you.
“Bye, Daddy,” you whispered, watching how his eyes sparkled when he winked at you, before he turned around and left the room.
You were still buzzing, basically floating, so when Mommy told you to wash your face and brush your teeth and use the toilet, you did as she told you, ignoring how degrading this should have felt, being told to do the most basic things, things a person your age should be able to do on her own. But it also felt good, having someone push you to do so, and she didn't sound condescending or mocking, but caring and sweet now that you were alone again.
Once you were all ready for the day, you stood, still in your towel, in the middle of the room (your room) while she pulled out various clothes, watching you as she did so, assessing your build and size, and in the end she chose a pair of pink panties for you and a matching bra that was a little loose but she assured you to buy better fitting things for you soon. You wondered then who all those clothes belonged to, they looked too girly to have been hers, and the wide array of different sizes also made you curious.
She looked at you as she held a knee-length pink dress to your chest. “We bought these for our old subs,” she said nonchalantly as if reading your mind. “I told you we've been looking for the right girl for a while. And we tried, tested a few, but none of them would really fit our needs, you know? You, however,” she added, putting the dress down to place her hands on your shoulders as she looked down at you with a soft smile, “you are what we're looking for. I can already tell. You belong here, and soon we'll fill this closet with your own things, and only yours, okay?”
You stared at her, your throat tight. Knowing that other girls had spent their time in this room, with these people, with your Mommy and Daddy, made you feel strangely small and insignificant. Like one of many. And you wondered when they would realize that you might not fit their needs either so they could move to the next girl. But you still hoped beyond hope that what she said was true. “So... so you won't... send me away again?”
“Oh, sweet thing, of course not, unless you want to leave, but I really hope you'll stay with us. We can give you anything you need, and you'd make us so happy too!” She pulled you against her bare chest (she still hadn't bothered putting on any clothes and you really envied her confidence), her arms tight around your shoulders as you gingerly hugged her back, feeling the soft slope of her spine under your clammy palms.
She kissed your forehead and let go again, smiling down at you. You felt the need to reassure her. “I'll... stay, I want to stay,” you whispered, biting your lip as a little smile played around the corner of your mouth.
Her hands found your face. “I'm glad,” she breathed, her lips brushing against yours, and then she really kissed you, a hard press, a confident lick against the seam of your mouth before you indulged her and kissed her back, timidly moving your tongue and lips against hers. “You taste so sweet,” she muttered, sighing deeply as she moved her lips down your jaw to your neck, giving your pulse a little suck that made you flinch a little. “I can't wait to taste more of you...”
Her words sent another deep shudder down your spine that ultimately gathered right in your throbbing clit. You had no idea what it was about this woman, about this whole situation, but anything she did to you, any touch, any word, made you feel like you never felt before. It was all warm and cozy, but it could turn hot and overwhelming in the blink of an eye. You slipped from feeling comfortable to completely aroused, back and forth, and it should be weird, but it wasn't. It felt right.
Mommy gave you another press of her lips to your neck before she leaned away, letting go of you to pick up the pink dress. “Alright, let's get ready for our Girls Day, shall we?” she said happily, shoving the dress into your hands. “Get dressed, I'll do the same, and I'll meet you here soon, okay?”
“Yes, Mommy,” you whispered, enduring/savoring another tight hug and a squeal from her, before she did what she told you and left the room, as naked as she was, her hips swaying as she went.
Later, you sat next to her in the back of the car again. She had put on a dark blue blouse and wide-legged pants, the pointy tips of her high heels poking out from the wide hem as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her seat, her hand on your thigh as she smiled at you. You smiled back shyly, feeling rather small next to her, in your soft pink dress, your magenta tights and those white little sneakers she gave you.
You had never cared much about being girly or wearing bright colors before, but it felt okay when somebody else told you to do so. The way she looked at you, so proud and happy, made it all worth it, even if you didn't quite feel like yourself anymore. But that was the point of this, wasn't it? To get you out of your old habits and show you something new, a new side of yourself. It could only get better from here, right?
Well.
Before it got better, it got a lot worse when you found yourself in a small room with a woman telling you to strip for her. Mommy was there too, but the stranger made you feel very uncomfortable. You were in one of those beauty salons you'd never seen the inside of. The woman seemed nice enough, or rather passive more likely, because it was her job to groom and take care of other people and she probably saw many different kinds of women each day, but you couldn't shake the feeling of a deep-rooted shame as you pulled your dress over your head, exposing yourself, feeling vulnerable and embarrassed and very insecure to show this stranger your neglected body.
Mommy helped you, her eager hands pulling down your tights (and panties) in one swift move, and you gasped and squirmed, trying to cover yourself, but she shushed you quietly. “It's okay, no need to be shy. I'm right here, you can do this.” You inhaled sharply, trying to focus on her as you stepped out of your tights, watching her put your clothes onto a nearby chair before she snaked her hands around your torso and unclasped your bra, adding it to the pile.
“Sit down please,” the other woman told you. When you looked at her, you noticed her almost bored looking gaze, as if she indeed did this several times a day. Nevertheless, you didn't, never had done this before, and when you scooted up on the reclined chair covered in a soft towel, you felt close to tears.
Clamping your thighs together, you put your hands on your breasts (wondering why you had to expose them in the first place when this was about trimming your body hair), when you felt Mommy's hands on yours as she leaned over you from behind. “Relax, baby girl,” she told you, turning her head to kiss your cheek. “Just relax. Lean back, close your eyes, and let the nice lady do her job, okay?”
And you tried. She kept her hands on your chest to ground you, giving your boobs gentle squeezes whenever you flinched or winced or squirmed as the nice lady began working on you. She started on your legs, and while you thought she might shave them as you would have done, she waxed them, and it felt strange when she applied the warm wax, but even worse when she suddenly ripped the sheets she pressed down onto your leg away again, causing you to squeak and almost kick her in the face.
Mommy kept close to you, hugging you, soothing you, her fingers drawing distracting circles around your nipples. You turned your head to her, your face flushed, watching her soft smile, the twinkle in her eyes, and somehow you made it through the torture of having your legs waxed. But then you felt a nudge against your thigh.
Looking back to the woman, you noticed her adding something to the chair you were resting on. Some sort of stirrups, and you realized you'd have to spread your legs and put them on there, because she –
– was about to wax your sex next. Oh dear God.
A whimper escaped you, your thighs pressing even tighter together, and you looked back at Mommy, pleading with her. She shook her head and caressed your cheek. “It's okay, honey, it won't hurt for long.” But it will hurt, you wanted to tell her, your eyes widening. “You're a big girl, aren't you? You can take it.”
And somehow her well-meant words made you feel even worse. Shame flooded your entire body, your blush spreading down to your chest. Your legs were still burning and irritated, the skin tight, and to imagine the same procedure between your thighs? But being treated like a little girl in front of this stranger gave you a weird boost of confidence, reverse-psychology-style. Because you were not a little girl, you were a grown ass woman, you should be able to deal with this! Clenching your jaw, you inhaled deeply, looking up at the ceiling as you lifted your legs and put them into the contraptions of the chair.
You forced yourself to ignore the cold breeze against your pussy lips, the way the woman stepped closer, the way her gloved fingers applied the wax over the coarse hairs of your mound. Your own hands clamped down on the edge of the seat, your breaths labored as you waited for the inevitable pain to shoot through your body. But when it came, you still jerked, a scream escaping your tight throat that was quickly silenced as you felt Mommy's hands on your face, making you look at her.
You felt tears burning in your eyes, the throbbing pain between your legs only part of the sudden waterworks. Her gaze was stern and hard, and you couldn't look away. You kept chewing on your bottom lip, wondering if you'd disappointed her by being so squeamish about this. If she'd change her mind about you being the perfect one. As the first tear rolled down your cheek, her gaze softened, her thumb tracing the path it took to your jaw.
She leaned in then, pressing her lips against your forehead, while another jolt of pain ripped through you as more of your hair was pulled out. You flinched, but you also forced yourself not to scream again. You did bite your tongue and tasted blood, but you didn't want to show her how much you suffered. She had brought you here, probably spent quite a sum to give you this treatment (and you were in dire need of it too, even if you couldn't really handle the pain and shame it brought with it), and you knew you should be grateful. And you were, you would be, afterwards, when the pain was gone and your skin smooth again, but right now all you could do was cry quietly and endure.
You felt dizzy by the end of it, barely able to move your limbs. So you let the woman arrange you how she needed you, noticing that Mommy had shifted behind the chair, looking down at you, holding your hands above your head as your arms were being lifted, more wax came down and more pain throbbed through you, your armpits burning like they'd never done before. Through bleary eyes you watched her, squeezing her hands back, feeling lightheaded and disoriented.
And then it was over, finally. Someone pulled you off the chair and onto trembling legs, Mommy helped you get dressed again. Your skin was warm and tight, but as smooth as it had ever been. The shame of the procedure was just a little flame in the back of your mind now, somehow you felt too numb to care anymore.
Once you were in your tights and dress again, you were guided into another room, onto another chair, and while Mommy sat down on a stool next to you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, you felt a new pair of hands on your head, fingers loosening the messy bun on top before slipping through the wild strands. You inhaled deeply and leaned into the chair, letting them do their thing. It hurt when they brushed through the unruly mess that was your hair, it hurt when they plugged your eyebrows into shape, it hurt and stung and the shame flared up from time to time, but you tried to focus on Mommy and her beautiful face, as she watched you closely, never not paying attention to you.
That might have been the weirdest thing. The way she always watched you, so attentively. Nobody had ever looked at you like this, not even your own mother, who had always been busy with other things, your siblings, one of her husbands, her phone, the TV, anything else, while you tried to tell her about that drawing you made in preschool that day. You remember that you eventually gave up telling her anything, and the older you got, the more you distanced yourself from her, because it wasn't worth it anymore. She just didn't seem to care, and she did a very bad job at hiding it also.
But this woman, the one you met yesterday, looked at you with so much care in her pretty eyes, held your hand between hers, warm and gentle but firm, showing you she was there. She cared, she barely knew you, but she cared, and it brought another tear into your eye that you quickly wiped with your free hand, before giving her a brave smile as your head was jerked back a little again. And because she cared, you cared too, you wanted to show her that you were indeed a big girl, that this didn't hurt, that it wasn't uncomfortable, that you could endure.
This was for your own good anyway (even if it felt like torture). She was trying to make you your own person again, bring you back into the world that had spat you out so ruthlessly.
Eventually, you relaxed into whatever was happening around you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your hand gave hers the occasional squeeze, and you just lay there, thinking about your new life, thinking back to the tall man waiting his turn back home (your home... what a twist), and you wondered how he would spend the day with you. Would he do Dad-things with you? Take you to some sports event? Watch TV with you? Go fishing, maybe? You realized you had no idea what a father would even do with his kid, because neither your biological father nor any of your various step-fathers had ever shown any interest in you.
Then again, maybe you shouldn't focus on the Dad-things, but the Daddy-things. Because quite frankly, you didn't want this man to be your father, you wanted him to be there for you, hold you and kiss you, be something more to you, you wanted to sit on his lap again, lean against him, feel his warmth and strength, and his hands all over you...
A little gasp escaped you as you felt your core clenching around nothing, a little throb, then a little drip into your underwear. It had been a long while since you were attracted to anyone in any way, and somehow, after just a few moments with that man you knew practically nothing about, you felt your heart beating faster just thinking about him. But when you opened your eyes, coming back from your mind to notice the woman still holding your hand, you realized it wasn't just him.
You also liked her, the way she touched you, kissed you, how confident she was, how she made you feel both small and comfortable at the same time. You had never questioned your sexuality, never really considered yourself one or the other or anything else for that matter (you had a boyfriend in high school, and girlfriends you'd play around with, but it was never as intense and eye-opening as whatever you were experiencing right now).
It was all new and exciting, and knowing you had the attention of a beautiful woman and a handsome man was just mind-boggling to you. It felt like a dream, and not even the throbbing pain still coursing through your body seemed to be able to wake you up from it.
At the end of it all, you sat in the car again, next to Mommy, who still held your hand. After getting a new haircut (only a little trim), she'd taken you to the nail salon, and together you chose a subtle pink for your nails. They remained short and natural, but it felt so much better knowing they added to the overall transformation of your once neglected body. You did feel like a new person, a new girl, a young woman, ready to begin a new chapter of her life.
The trunk of the car was full of bags, filled with dresses and skirts, blouses and shirts, sweaters and cardigans, socks and tights and a variety of shoes, all of it girly, elegant, but also comfortable and chic, a whole closet full of things that only fit you. Buying underwear was another ordeal with Mommy, but in the end she found you beautiful pieces, ranging from cute and modest to really extravagant and barely covering anything.
And you felt good seeing yourself in them, confident despite all those areas you didn't particularly like – because apparently there was underwear that didn't have to be too loose or too tight, like the ones you'd bought before, the cheap ones. These new ones hugged your body like a second skin, accentuated the good parts and hid the bad ones, making you feel so much better about yourself.
During your shopping trip, Mommy bought you lunch and later a milkshake, walking with her hand around yours. While she did most of the talking, small talk mostly that you appreciated very much, you felt more and more at ease with her. Yesterday she'd been a stranger, and now, she was your Mommy, someone who took care of you, who laughed with you, who made you feel comfortable.
When the car returned to the mansion, the adventures of the day weighed you down more than you thought. You were tired, still a little sore from the waxing, but overall you were happier than you'd been in ages. Mommy helped you out of the car and pulled you towards the entrance door, while the driver started carrying all those bags into the house. In the kitchen, you were met by a delicious smell, and a large frame that made your heart beat faster.
“You've returned,” Daddy greeted you (looking so incredibly handsome in a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up over his strong forearms), putting down a dish towel before he approached you. Mommy let go of your hand and gave you a gentle nudge that you didn't really need, because in the next second you had fallen against the tall man's chest, your arms tight around his waist. “Aww, did you miss Daddy, baby girl?” he cooed, embracing you just as tightly.
You mumbled your confirmation against him, closing your eyes as you just leaned into him, no longer wondering why it felt so easy to be this close to these people. It just felt right. The way they looked at you, treated you, paid attention to you, all the trouble they went through for you. It was special, and you embraced it by embracing them, knowing how easy it was to please them with just a few words and a few simple displays of affection.
Eventually, he leaned you back by holding your shoulders, his eyes wandering over your flushed face and your bouncy new hair. His fingers stroked along your tresses, twirling the ends playfully. “Looks really good on you,” he told you, and you smiled shyly. “You're even more beautiful now, sweet girl,” he added quietly as he bent down to press his lips against your cheek.
You squirmed away with a soft giggle when he nuzzled your jaw, his hands roaming down your body to tease at your ribs. You fell into a full-on laughing fit when he continued tickling you, digging his fingers into your sides, while his teeth grazed along your pulse, your own hands grasping helplessly at his forearms.
“What a sweet sound,” he breathed against you before he stopped and grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly until his arms rested just beneath your rear, holding you up. You put your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him with your cheeks aflame and tears burning in your eyes, still smiling at him. “My sweet little pumpkin.”
You scrunched your nose at the nickname, making him grin even wider at you.
“Can I call you pumpkin, sweet girl?” he asked quietly, shifting you on his arms.
You considered it, wondering how he even got to calling you that, but then couldn't find a reason for him not to call you so. It did sound rather nice. “You can call me anything you want, Daddy,” you whispered breathlessly, your heart beating even faster.
“Yeah?”
You nodded, biting your lip. He turned you both around then and sat you down on the counter, leaning on his arms as he caged you in. His face was inches away from yours, his hot breath ghosting your lips. You watched him with growing anticipation, that tension in your stomach intensifying with every rapid heartbeat. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, his eyes boring into your own, so intense, so hungry, and he tilted his head, your lips parted in preparation –
“So what's for dinner?” cut Mommy's voice through your special moment.
Daddy closed his eyes and leaned back slowly, exhaling loudly. You watched him, still holding your breath, your hands curled tight around the edge of the counter, your knees pressed together so hard your legs were trembling. He brushed his hands over your thighs, fingers teasing between them only for a second before he was gone, stepping away to the other side of the kitchen island, while Mommy took his place in front of you.
You saw them exchanging a long gaze, something dark glinting in Mommy's eyes. Her hands found your knees, and without looking at you, she forced them apart with a strength you hadn't expected from her. Gasping softly, you stared at her, and when her hands disappeared under the skirt of your dress, you stiffened. She looked back at you then, her eyes as intense as Daddy's had been.
“Girls Day isn't over yet, sweetheart,” she whispered, tilting her head before she leaned closer, brushing her full lips against yours. Her fingers moved around your rear before they slipped under the waistband of your tights. Your heart skipped several beats as she started pulling them down, and you squirmed on the counter, struggling between allowing her the motion and fighting it.
“You should give her a break,” sounded Daddy's voice from behind her, and when you looked past her as she lowered her head with a deep sigh, you saw concern and something else in his dark eyes.
“Don't tell me what to do,” Mommy whispered quietly, slowly turning around enough to look at him. Her hands were still halfway down your tights, her body wedged between your spread legs.
He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. “It's her first day, babe,” he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
She gritted her teeth, looking away until her suddenly cold eyes found yours. Your breath hitched in your throat. “But Mommy's hungry,” she muttered, licking her upper lip. You swallowed thickly, watching the exchange with bated breath, not quite understanding what was going on.
“Have dinner then,” he replied from behind her. “Greta made ravioli.”
Slowly, she slipped her hands from inside your tights and grabbed the waistband, shifting you back into them with a jerk. You gasped softly, scooting back on the counter. Then she gripped your chin and made you look at her. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Let's have dinner. I'll have you for dessert then, hm, sweet cheeks?”
She pulled you closer to her and smashed her lips against yours, inhaling deeply before leaning back again, letting go of you abruptly and stepping away, her heels clicking over the hardwood floor. And you sat there, on the counter, with your lips parted and trembling, confusion washing over you as you followed her with wide eyes.
Daddy extended a hand to you and, once you grabbed it hesitantly, helped you off the counter. Still holding your hand, he bent down to whisper softly: “Don't mind her, she gets cranky when she's hungry.” He winked at you then, squeezing your fingers.
You blinked up at him in even bigger confusion, but eventually you let it slide and let him pull you through the kitchen and into the dining room.
“By the way, I haven't asked before, so I told our chef to make something vegan. Do you eat meat, pumpkin? Do you have any allergies?” Daddy asked quietly as he pulled out a chair and motioned you to sit down.
“I, uh, I do, eat meat, I mean. And no allergies I know of,” you replied with a stammer, your legs still shaking a little.
“Good, that's perfect,” he mused and walked around you, sitting down at the head of the long table, while Mommy sat across from you, studying her nails.
Between you was a large plate covered by one of those fancy metal hoods, and when Daddy lifted it, a heavenly smell distracted you from the strange tension around you. There were three different types of handmade ravioli, big ones, not those tiny ones you'd eat straight out of the can, they looked so fancy and professional and delicious of all things, and when you listened to his explanation of which was which, you couldn't decide which one to choose, so you took one of each, earning you a little laugh from Daddy.
“That's a good appetite,” he praised, taking one for himself before he held out the prongs to Mommy. She turned her head to him, her eyes narrowed, and when she closed her fingers around his, you could see her knuckles blanching.
“Shopping makes hungry, you know?” she said pointedly, snatching the prongs out of his grip to put two ravioli onto her own plate.
He just sighed and lifted his fork. “Well, dig in, and again, welcome to your new home, pumpkin,” he added with a nod towards you.
You smiled shyly, nodding back. “Thank you,” you mumbled timidly, before you inhaled deeply, looking over the table to Mommy who seemed to poke at her food with quite the disinterest. “Really, thank you for everything, Mommy,” you said a little louder. “I had a great time today.”
She looked up then, her hard gaze softening immediately. Her hand reached across the table to brush against yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Me too, cariño,” she whispered, a small smile grazing her lips.
Seeing her relax again made your heart beat a little faster.
“Aren't you two the sweetest,” Daddy mused, his fork halfway up to his mouth. “Eat up now before it gets cold.”
Mommy pulled her hand away and focused back on her plate, ignoring Daddy's comment. You looked at him, feeling your cheeks burning up when he gave you another wink, before you turned back to your food as well.
Your mind was reeling from all the impressions of this single day. It was still something of a blur, a dreamlike experience, and occasionally a few doubts would poke through the cotton in your head, making you wonder when you'd wake up again. But you didn't. It seemed real enough. A real dinner, with real food, and real people. People who watched you, who offered you more, who reached out to scrape sauce off your cheek.
It had been twenty-four hours, and yet it felt as if you'd known these people way longer. The way they cared for you made it all so much easier. It was a dream, but a dream come true. And somehow you knew that there was a lot more on the horizon.
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Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5
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End notes: Probably should have mentioned it earlier, but the whole waxing/makeover scene is only to show how Reader's depression made it impossible for her to take care of herself, it's not to shame anyone choosing to have body hair, because that is of course a choice. Please do not take offense in Mommy's ideals, she just wants to make Reader feel pretty in her own, slightly controlling way (that could be considered a bit dubcon if you squint, but really, Reader just isn't in a state of mind where she knows what she wants yet, so this is all some good-natured nudging).
Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!
Up next: You are back in Daddy's arms, and he has his own special plans for you...
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MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS
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limethefirst · 7 months ago
Text
Void Runners Pt. 1
pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader
warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, blood, the normal deadpooly stuff
summary: Reader has been trapped in the void for a few months now, after getting into trouble with the TVA, when they suddenly stumble upon a Deadpool and a Wolverine.
Part 2 / Part 3
a/n: if this gets popular enough I might write a part two, I'm having Deadpool and Wolverine brainrot, also this is unedited so pls tell me if you see mistakes
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It had been 4 months since you had been sent to the Void; the apocalyptic like plain, becoming what you had accepted as your new home.
You were a time traveler, that had accidently messed up some big event and that caused the TVA to come and take care of you. You weren't sure what the big event was, something about some saving some rich guys parents. You thought you were doing a good thing by it but apparently not.
Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore, you were now stuck here. You'd been alone most of the time, sometimes seeing other people but you had learned quickly into your stay that these others were part of this group formed by Cassandra Nova, an insanely powerful woman who you never dared cross paths with.
Until unfortunately today.
Sadly you stumbled upon the wrong people at the wrong time. As you were walking through the dusty plains, you saw two men falling from the sky, thinking back on your heroic days you felt obligated to help out. That was not the best idea, you tried to go up to the men but instead they started arguing when a fight suddenly broke out between them. By the time the fight had ended you had blood all over your (as clean as they can be in the void) shoes.
"Augh, I just cleaned these too." Is what seemed to snap the men out of whatever had just happened.
"Oh my gosh! How long has the movie been out? Five days, and we are already getting reader inserts? Wow!" The man in the red mask said to no one in particular, "And what might your name be sunshine?"
"Uh Y/N, are you guys okay, you seem to be stabbed in a lot of places?" You answered a bit concerned after seeing two men almost tear each other apart.
"Oh this? Sorry, my partner here has weird kinks-" The strange man is cut off by the other seemingly older man punching him in the jaw. "See what I mean kiddo?"
"Enough Wade." The older man gruffed, his arms crossing as he shakes his head disapprovingly.
"Whatever you say sugar cube!" The man known as Wade looked back at you, "Oh you must be wondering who we are huh! Well this hairy beast of a man is the one and only Wolverine, and I am your friendly neighbor Deadpool!" Wolverine looked at you and sighed at the at his 'partners' antics.
From there things only went downhill, and that is how you were stuck with them being hauled off to Cassandra Nova's lair.
"Awee are we having a flashback already?!" Deadpool's annoying voice rang from in front of you. Currently you were stuck in a ball like cage with, Johnny Storm, Wolverine and Deadpool.
Johnny began to explain to the men where we were all headed, going over the basics of who were about to meet and the type of woman Cassandra was. You looked a bit ahead as you noticed you were already here.
As you guys had come to a stop you saw the others being throw out of the cage, you held up your chained hands to the man before they could throw you as well, "I got it, thanks" jumping out before you got tossed as well.
At the same time you got down you heard Deadpool's odd comment, "Huh, Paul Rudd finally aged." You turned down at the man slightly and gave him a quick look of confusion unsure what he was talking about; his partner seemingly unphased by the comment, most likely used to it.
Looking ahead ignoring the bickering next happening to your right, you saw what seemed to be a bald woman in the mouth of the giant skull. As the dust cleared you could see her get up from the wheelchair she was sitting on, "What was the point of the wheelchair.." You dully commented.
Deadpool adding on, "Oh ableism great, that's not gonna go over well with the Woke mob!"
You looked at your surroundings, no longer caring about the scene unfolding before you, Deadpool began to talk with Cassandra, somehow coming up on the topic of a coke, loving roommate.
After a bit more talking between the two you hear Deadpool slandering Cassandra, and then telling her it was all Johnny who said it. This brought back your attention just in time to see Johnny's skin ripped from his skeleton.
"Not my favorite Chris." Deadpool says, not having much remorse for the scene in front of him.
"You piece of shit you just got him fucking killed." Wolverine adds, pointing at the remains of Johnny.
"Awe I kinda liked him," You mumbled to yourself, as Wolverine looked at you with a look of discouragement on his face, almost as if saying not to get Deadpool started with this.
"Hey we are all grieving," Deadpool yells, "He doesn't know what he was doing to the budget." He mumbled the last part.
Cassandra ignored his words and walked past the group, "Shush, Alioth's hungry."
"There must be some kind of mistake," Deadpool started again, "Big yellow is an anchor being and I'm Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty." Cassandra turned her head a little as you stood next to them listening to their story, not getting the chance to hear it earlier. "This may be hard to hear but there's another British villain, he's gonna destroy my universe and I'm gonna stop him."
"Oh honey you don't really strike me as the world saving type." Cassandra answered him, this seemed to upset the laidback man. You watched as he seemed to straighten himself up hearing that. "Did I hit a nerve?" She turns back, almost sarcastically.
"I didn't want it to come to this," Deadpool says, "Either you help us or my friend here is gonna sing the entire second act of Music Man with no warm up"
You look at him confused, "What the hell is that?"
"Where'd you get the chair?" Wolverine asks Cassandra as she walks back towards the skull.
She quickly answers, "Every once in a while we get a Charles here, never mind though, he didn't care to find me."
Deadpool leans back seemingly annoyed, "Ughh Gen Z and their trauma bragging!" He shoots you a quick glance, "Can't you just stuff it down and turn it into a cancer like the rest of us?"
"But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together." A light smile graced Cassandra's face as she watches you guys.
You watch their exchange a little more before you notice the purple mist coming up behind you guys slowly getting closer. As you turn back around you see Wolverine getting dragged through the ground and Deadpool backing up.
"I am so not with them." You tell Cassandra hoping that doesn't happen to you.
"Oh yes they are." Deadpool fires back, making sure he isn't next. Unfortunately for him he was, you watched as Cassandra got behind him and put her fingers in his head.
She began to whisper something and within the next minute she let go. Deadpool shook his head and started rambling yet again, "You are so mean! I could taste your fingers! They taste like hate, and where in God's name is the intimacy coordinator?!"
"You're so lost Mr Wilson, long before you came here." Cassandra told him.
He took out his knife and held it up, "This is baby knife, she's gonna fuck you in the face now."
Cassandra looked at the knife at back at him, "If you're going to kill me it's going to take more then a little blade."
"How about six?" Before she could say anything else, Wolverine came up behind her and stabbed her with his claws.
"Holy shit" You said covering your mouth.
Before you could celebrate, Cassandra began laughing and fell from the claws, "This has been fun but the big guy needs to eat and the rent is due." She turned around walking away as a looming shadow of darkness rose above the skeleton you were in.
Before anyone had a chance to say anything people had scattered and Deadpool grabbed you and hoisted you up over his shoulder taking you towards the machine Wolverine was trying to fix for an escape.
You hadn't a second to say anything because the next thing you knew, you were being taken with them hopefully away from the giant monster.
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glitterjay · 10 months ago
Note
can u do gynaecologist enha (whichever member u want) with patient reader?
ifnotitsokayiunderstandimjustobsessedwithyourwriting
Also can I be🦢anon?
⭒ gynecologist!sunghoon, fingering, head implied (f. receiving) , suggestive content minors dni
⭒ c's note: this is a new approach, and i've never been to a gynecologist before, so im sorry if it's bad ㅜㅜ welcome to the club, 🦢'anon! do let me know if you liked it or not
⭒ due to popular demand, you can find part 2 here
⭒ taglist: @hollyoongs @moon7jay @wondipity @fertilizedtoesw @kwiwin @enhabooks
you were quite nervous, to say the least, about visiting the gynecologist. you just wanted to get a checkup to make sure everything was right with your body, but since it was your first time, you were shy and embarrassed.
you had arrived at the place of your appointment just in time, walking straight into the doctor's office.
it took you by surprise to see a man. you had told yourself that a woman would be taking care of you, so you shouldn't be so embarrassed by this at all.
he noticed your shocked expression and asked you to take a seat by the desk, adjusting the glasses that were just about to fall off the tip of his nose. "you might have been expecting, dr. kim in here, but she had to go out. i'm dr. park, sunghoon park. there's no need to worry, i'll take good care of you."
his voice was deep yet soft, and it made butterflies appear in your tummy. you blushed, looking away from him and scanning the things adorning the room.
"i see that you came in just for a checkup. is it your first time?" you nodded, playing with your fingers as you looked down at them. the oen he was holding seemed to be from the college he attended and the year of his cohort. to your surprise, it was just a year before you graduated yourself.
"im gonna need you to lay in that bed over there for me, please."
you did as told, still fidgeting with your hands. he was getting ready for your check up, and he had to admit you looked very pretty.
"alright," he sat in front of the bed, and pulled out a robe. "there's a bathroom right over there. you can go change into this so your checkup can start."
-
sunghoon had started conversation so you could feel less nervous. you had find out he was indeed a year above you in college, and has been working ever since graduation. it was a small world, and you were glad you didn't know him until today, or else it would've been worse.
the latex gloves he's was wearing were close against your sensitive skin. it send shivers up your spine every time sunghoon moved and touched. it was until a small moan left your mouth that sunghoon noticed what his hands were causing.
it was as if an angel had ascended straight from heaven to sing. sunghoon's body count was big, but he had never heard such a beautiful and melodious voice before.
he glanced over at the door, making sure it was locked, and went straight to business.
his long index finger started gathering the juices that were leaving your body, his eyes gleaming at the sight before him. he didn't lose anything, right? after all, both of you would win something.
"your body is perfectly healthy," he said, his fingers trying to stuff back the juices making your cunt glow. was it weird what he was doing? probably, but it had this weird and addictive feeling growing within you, so you didn't tell him to stop.
sunghoon inserted his whole index finger, curling it up as soon as he could. this made your body jump a little, allowing him to hear another wonderful moan.
he kept fingering you for a while, adding more fingers as he went on. as soon as your walls started to clench around him, he stopped.
he lowered the chair he was sitting on, so now his face was right in front of your exposed heat. he was staring at it like a hungry man, and you blushed when he looked up at you through his glasses.
"it looks pretty," he said. "perfectly taken care of, and I bet it tastes amazing too."
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honeyhae-svt · 1 month ago
Note
since i write wonwoo fanfics frequently, i often wonder how it would be if wonwoo falls for someone, or what he likes in a woman, or what he actually is when he's in love or smth. i'm not wonwoo to know what and how, but here's what i think. wonwoo has that reserved yet witty charm, doesn’t he? It makes wondering how he’d be in love so intriguing. 😌 if we take inspiration from what we know about him and combine it with a touch of creative freedom, here’s how he might be when he falls for someone: it's a headcanon so don't hate me if i'm wrong. anyways, please enjoy, cuties. wonwoo x f!reader (should be gn, but i think f!reader one is easier sns).
wonwoo's headcanon when he falls for someone (you)
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jeon wonwoo x gn!reader
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ tags / genre: wonwoo x reader, seventeen fanfiction, slow burn romance, comfort / emotional intimacy, supportive wonwoo, quiet love, slice of life, fluff, soft romance, gradual love, reader insert ੈ✩‧₊˚ warnings: n/a ੈ✩‧₊˚ wc: 3200 ੈ♡ a/n: i went with gender neutral because why not. and this may be considered as a fanfiction because it just is. headcanon, drabbles? yes. i make drabbles when i feel like drinking or when i'm tipsy, because it just helps. guess what, i proofread it after i get all sobered up :) enjoy this fantasy i wrote :> (ilovehimsobadthatikeepwriting.seriously,he'sjustsoperfect) - i'll make one for every member :] ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : To You (Seventeen) ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮
ੈ♡˚ ༘ wonwoo's headcanon when he falls for someone
when wonwoo falls for someone, he’s not the type to loudly declare his feelings or make grand gestures. instead, he expresses his affection through small, meaningful actions that might go unnoticed at first. his love is subtle, often woven into quiet moments where his intentions are more felt than spoken.
he'd be the kind of person who’s always there for you, especially when you need support. whether it’s offering you his jacket when it’s cold or getting you your favorite snack just because he noticed you were craving it—those little gestures speak volumes. wonwoo is someone who pays attention to the small details, and he loves showing his care in ways that don’t require attention from others.
in conversations, he might become more engaging when you're around. he’ll tease you lightly, showing his witty side, and might even playfully challenge you, just to see you react. it’s his way of getting closer without making things too intense or overwhelming. his sarcastic remarks are softened when it’s you, and he enjoys seeing your reactions to his dry humor. but when he’s truly comfortable and feels secure in his affection, you'll notice he becomes more open—he’ll share things that are usually just reserved for himself.
wonwoo’s shy and introverted nature means that when he’s in love, he might struggle to open up at first, but he finds ways to let you in. you’ll see it in how his gaze softens when he looks at you, how his words become carefully chosen, and how he might seek out opportunities to spend time with you, even if it’s just quietly sitting next to each other.
and when he’s jealous or insecure, it’s not overt. he’ll remain composed, but you’ll catch the slight change in his demeanor—the way he’ll glance at you a bit longer than usual, or the way his quietness speaks volumes. it’s not about controlling or demanding your attention, but he can’t help but feel possessive in a quiet, understated way.
the most vulnerable moment for wonwoo comes when he finally admits how he feels, not with grand declarations, but with a soft, sincere confession when you least expect it. it’s simple but deeply heartfelt, because for someone like him, being open about his feelings is a huge step. when he finally takes that leap, you know it’s real.
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it was late, the dim light of the living room casting soft shadows on the walls. wonwoo sat on the couch, his fingers lightly tracing the spine of the book he’d been pretending to read for the past hour. his thoughts weren’t on the story—his mind kept drifting back to the person sitting beside him.
you, as usual, had that carefree smile on your face, lost in whatever you were doing on your phone. you were scrolling through social media, laughing at a meme you'd just sent him, and despite the banter, he couldn't shake off the pull in his chest when his gaze lingered on you. it wasn’t the first time he felt this way, but tonight, it seemed like his emotions were bubbling up just a bit more than usual.
you caught his stare, and your playful grin only deepened. "something on my face?" you teased, nudging his arm.
"no," wonwoo replied, his voice quieter than usual. he wasn’t great with words, especially when he was thinking too much. but there was something about you—something about the way you made him feel calm and at ease, even in moments like this, where his thoughts threatened to spill over.
there were many times he'd been asked about his type, and most would expect him to talk about looks, or about how someone had to be this or that. but truthfully? wonwoo never had a clear answer. maybe it was because his feelings were always slow, building in subtle ways, the way a river quietly carves through stone over time. he liked how you listened when he spoke, how your laughter felt like the quietest music in a world too loud.
he cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "you're... distracting," he said, the words coming out softer than he intended. his cheeks flushed lightly at the admission, but you didn’t comment on it. instead, you raised an eyebrow, a teasing look on your face.
"am i now? how am i distracting?" your eyes were bright, playful, but there was something else in your expression—something that made him feel like you could see right through him.
"i—" he stopped himself, unsure of how to finish the sentence without sounding ridiculous. you tilted your head slightly, sensing the shift in his tone.
"wonwoo," you said quietly, setting your phone down, the playful mood suddenly gone. "you’re acting weird."
he blinked, heart hammering. you had always been straightforward, and that made him nervous in ways he hadn’t expected. but your gaze wasn’t accusatory; it was curious, like you were waiting for him to speak his truth.
"i think... i think i like you," he said finally, his words falling into the space between you two. he didn’t look at you right away, his hands fidgeting with the book again as if somehow it could give him the comfort he needed.
there was a long silence, and for a moment, wonwoo thought he might’ve said something wrong, or maybe that you didn’t feel the same. but then you moved closer, your hand gently resting on his.
"i like you too," you said, your voice soft, but the sincerity in it wrapped around his heart like warmth.
he looked up, surprised, though he had hoped for it. there was no teasing in your tone now—just truth. you weren’t playing around. you weren’t afraid of showing your feelings, and it made his chest tighten with something he couldn’t quite name.
for a moment, he just sat there, processing. then, slowly, almost hesitantly, wonwoo reached for your hand, squeezing it lightly. "good," he whispered, voice barely audible. "i didn’t want to mess this up."
you smiled, squeezing back. "you won’t."
and in that quiet moment, when everything else faded away, wonwoo realized that sometimes, love wasn’t about big gestures or dramatic confessions. it was about finding someone who understood you, even in your quietest moments, and making space for each other, one small gesture at a time.
ੈ♡˚ ༘ kisses and cuddles with wonwoo
wonwoo isn’t the type to rush into physical affection, but once he’s comfortable with someone, he’ll be subtle in his approach. the first step would likely be a lot of close moments: sitting together in silence, just enjoying each other's company. the intimacy between you two is built on this steady foundation of trust.
one evening, after a long day, you two end up sitting on the couch again, both of you lost in whatever show or movie is playing in the background. wonwoo, as usual, is silent but somehow present—his hand resting just barely near yours. the tension is subtle at first, but it's there. the closeness feels safe, like you’re both cocooned in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.
then, the first touch happens almost by accident. maybe it’s when you shift on the couch, and your arm brushes against his. he doesn’t pull away immediately, and neither do you. the brief touch lingers for a moment, just enough to make the air feel a little warmer. neither of you says anything, but the connection is there.
as you two continue watching, you notice him glancing over at you from the corner of his eye. his lips are pursed in that familiar contemplative way, but his gaze softens when it lands on you.
you can feel the anticipation building as his hand inches closer to yours again, just waiting for a response. when your fingers brush against his, it's like the world pauses for a second. his heart beats faster in his chest, but he doesn't let it show—his eyes remain calm, his expression composed. yet, there’s something in his posture that betrays the tension in his shoulders, how badly he wants this but doesn’t want to rush it.
he finally takes your hand, fingers gently weaving through yours. there’s no need for words—everything is said in that simple gesture, the quiet understanding between you two that this is the start of something more.
ੈ♡˚ ༘ the first kiss the first kiss comes unexpectedly, but in a way that feels right. maybe you're both standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner together, and you accidentally bump into him while reaching for the same ingredient. there’s a moment of awkwardness—your hand brushing against his chest, and both of you pausing to look at each other.
he doesn’t shy away, but there’s that slight hesitation. it’s not that he’s unsure—it’s more that he’s being careful, considering everything that comes with this moment. his eyes lock onto yours, and you see that flicker of vulnerability in them.
then, with a soft breath, he leans in. it’s slow—he takes his time, moving closer with careful precision. his lips press against yours in a gentle, almost hesitant kiss at first, as if testing the waters. his lips are soft, and the kiss feels warm, calm, comforting. he doesn’t rush; instead, he savors the moment, lingering with you in the quiet intimacy of it all.
as you both pull away, wonwoo doesn’t say anything at first. he simply smiles faintly, his eyes soft with a kind of tenderness that’s rare for him to show. there’s a quiet understanding between you two: this is real, and it’s something to be treasured.
ੈ♡˚ ༘ cuddles with wonwoo when it comes to cuddling, wonwoo would prefer something subtle and relaxed. it wouldn’t be the type of cuddling where you’re all over each other right away. instead, he might start with small touches—his arm casually draping over your shoulders as you sit together, or his hand gently resting on your knee. his warmth and presence are what make it feel like an embrace, even if there’s no immediate closeness.
if he’s had a long day, you might find him leaning into you for comfort, his head resting lightly on your shoulder. at first, the cuddles would be a little awkward, as wonwoo isn’t used to letting his guard down in such a vulnerable way. but once he gets comfortable, he’ll pull you in a little closer, his arm wrapping around you protectively. the closeness will feel like a safe haven for him—like a place where he doesn’t need to speak, but he can feel secure in the quiet connection you share.
as time goes on, he might be more open to cuddling while you’re watching tv or simply laying together. he’d prefer it to be natural—nothing forced. maybe one evening, as you both relax in bed, he’ll pull you to his chest, his arms surrounding you. his body language will show that he’s comfortable and feels safe, his fingers gently stroking your hair or back as he hums softly. his breathing will slow, his heart will steady, and you’ll feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.
the first time he lets his guard down completely in your arms, you’ll know. his body language will soften, and you’ll feel him relax into you, the tension that often keeps him stiff and reserved melting away. in that moment, you’ll know that this—this is what wonwoo needs most: quiet, shared moments of tenderness.
┊ ➶ 。✩‧₊˚ bonus wonwoo's apartment door clicked open, the familiar scent of your perfume filling the air as soon as he stepped inside. he had barely taken a breath after a long day of practice before he noticed you sitting on the couch. it was late, and the apartment was quiet, but there was something so soothing about seeing you here—waiting for him.
you didn’t say anything at first. you just looked up at him, eyes soft and knowing. you could see the exhaustion in his face, the way his shoulders sagged, like the weight of the entire day had been pressing on him. but you didn’t need to ask how he was doing. the moment he locked eyes with you, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, like he couldn’t help it.
"hey," he murmured, slipping off his shoes and making his way over to the couch. "you’re still awake?"
"of course," you replied, teasing a little, but the concern in your voice was evident. "i thought you might need some company."
he sank onto the couch beside you, his body leaning heavily against the cushions. the tension in his frame was almost palpable. without thinking, he stretched out his legs, his head falling back against the headrest, completely drained. but there was a softness in his eyes when he glanced over at you, that familiar comfort settling over him.
you didn’t ask him anything about practice—he hated talking about it when he was tired. instead, you simply reached for him, your fingers brushing gently against his. he didn’t pull away, but his eyes flickered toward you, almost surprised.
"you don’t need to do anything," you said quietly, your voice gentle as you squeezed his hand, "just relax. i’ll be here."
and that was all he needed to hear. wonwoo’s eyes closed, and he let out a long sigh, his body finally starting to unwind in the peaceful quiet of your presence.
for a moment, the two of you sat in silence, and you just let him take his time. he needed it—his head resting against the couch, his hand still holding yours loosely, as if you were the anchor that kept him grounded. it wasn’t long before he shifted closer to you, moving in small increments like he was testing the waters.
you felt him shift again, this time his shoulder brushing against yours. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant, but there was something so endearing about it—like he was giving you the chance to decide, even though he had clearly already made up his mind.
you leaned in just a bit, your hand moving to rest on his chest, and he responded instinctively, his arm wrapping around you. the motion felt natural, familiar, as if the two of you had been doing this for years.
the first kiss came softly—slow, lingering. wonwoo’s lips were warm against yours, and for a moment, everything felt suspended in time. he wasn’t rushing, and neither were you. it was just the two of you, caught in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the exhaustion of the day melting away as he kissed you again, this time a little deeper.
his hands were gentle, his fingers grazing your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips parting slightly as he deepened the kiss. there was no force behind it, no urgency—just the need to be close, to feel each other after the long day apart. wonwoo kissed like he was taking his time, savoring each moment as though it could slip away at any second.
and you... you matched his pace. your own hands tangled in his shirt, the softness of his body pressed against yours, grounding you. the kiss was slow but heated, full of a quiet hunger, like he had been wanting this all day but wasn’t sure how to get it.
it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was a way for him to release everything he’d been holding in—his exhaustion, his frustrations, his quiet longing. he wasn’t just seeking comfort. he was seeking connection. and, with you, he found it.
after a moment, he pulled away, his forehead resting gently against yours, both of you still catching your breath. his eyes fluttered open, and there was something in them—vulnerable and soft, a stark contrast to his usual cool demeanor.
"stay with me," he whispered, voice hoarse. "i just... need you close."
and, of course, you didn’t need to say anything. you simply nodded, your hand brushing his cheek before you leaned in for another kiss—this one a little more eager, a little more urgent. his lips responded immediately, deepening the kiss until it felt like nothing else in the world mattered.
the night would come with small moments
⊹˚. what exactly are you to wonwoo?
to wonwoo, you might be that one person—the one who feels like a safe harbor even through all the chaos of his busy, demanding life. you might be more than just a friend or a casual connection; you're his comfort, his source of peace, and the person who understands him without needing him to explain everything.
⊹˚. how wonwoo falls for you
it’s subtle, gradual, and wrapped up in the quiet moments that define your relationship. for wonwoo, his feelings wouldn’t ignite all at once. instead, they’d grow quietly, almost imperceptibly, until one day he realizes just how much he’s fallen in love with you.
wonwoo, the quiet one, might never explicitly declare his feelings in such words. instead, his actions speak louder than anything. the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention, the way his hand seeks yours when you’re together, the way he makes sure you’re comfortable, even in the smallest ways.
if he does eventually confess, it’ll probably be in his own understated, sincere way, where words don’t need to be loud to express the depth of his feelings.
example: late one evening, as you’re about to leave, he surprises you by pulling you back for a quick kiss—no preamble, just a gentle, unexpected moment. and when you pull away, he whispers, “i guess this is me admitting i’m kind of... into you.”
in wonwoo’s case, it’s a slow burn—nothing rushed, just a deepening connection that sneaks up on both of you. you’re not just someone he likes. you’re the person he starts imagining a future with, not because he can’t be without you, but because you’ve become a part of his peace.
(ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡ when wonwoo is in love he becomes even more of a rock for his partner. he’s the kind of person who’s always there when things get tough, but not in an overbearing way. he just quietly supports you, offering a sense of calm and security. you might not always realize it, but his love is a constant comfort, whether it’s through a reassuring smile, a soft touch, or a shared silence.
like when you go through a stressful day, you come home to find him already there with a cup of tea, just sitting quietly next to you. he doesn’t need to ask, "what’s wrong?" he just knows that your silence says enough, and his presence alone provides the peace you need.
wonwoo doesn’t need to constantly express his love verbally. instead, it’s in the touch of his hand on your back when you're walking together, or the way he watches you when you’re talking. his love is quiet but constant—he’s there when you need him, not just physically, but emotionally. he’d never be the type to have a "grand love declaration," but when he looks at you, you’d know.
maybe his fingers find yours casually when you’re sitting together, not even necessarily for anything romantic, but because he’s used to having you near him. his hand just naturally gravitates to yours, as if it's where it’s always meant to be.
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ੈ♡ a/n: you want to know what i think? wonwoo is the type of person who makes efforts so effortlessly but manages to do a perfect job for his love. he might not be the guy who would be attached almost too immediately and takes things slow. these are just headcanons of what i know about him, lmk if i missed anything :)) thankyou for reading ily :>
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queers-gambit · 2 months ago
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The Strength in Honor [ part 1 of 3 ]
prompt: ( requested ) embarking on a marital affair with your older sister's husband. strength to those with honor.
pairing: Marcus Acacius x female!Aurelius!reader
fandom: Gladiator II -> no masterlist
word count: 7.3k+
note: welcome back, my Roman Empire; my OG muse -> second note: author's only seen both movies once so AU timeline 'cause wonky brain is wonky
warnings: spoilers! AU timeline, kinda reader insert? flashbacks, reader knew Maximus, Aurelius reader, essentially nicknamed reader, cheating, sneaking around on your sister / family angst, depiction of secret abortions, romance, smut, NSFW, is this "feral" idfk, cursing, some implied age gap, height difference, use of Y/N, set up for a dramatic part two that will not be necessary to read, author interchanges Muse's names on purpose, drama, talk of impregnating reader, relationship angst, established relationship, very brief depiction of injury / blood / medical phenomenon (tending to Lucius' cut, putting in a stitch).
part two: read here part three: read here
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Year 180 AD
Blood of Germanic natives still stained under his nails, armor latched tight, sheen of sweat cooling on his brow as the heat of the fire's flames he stared into licked his knees. There was confusion marring his thoughts, brows knit towards his newly broken nose that ringed his nostrils with dried bloody flakes. Marcus Acacius was faced with an impossible decision and prayed the flames before him would reveal any truth.
A heavy hand clapped his shoulder, startling the young soldier. "At ease," a deep, baritone voice rumbled in amusement; General Maximus Decimus Meridius shuffling around his comrade a moment to take a seat on the fallen tree trunk a foot or so from Marcus.
"General," Marcus greeted.
"It's late, soldier."
Maximus watched Marcus glance up to the night sky, blinking thrice before nodding with overturned, pursed lips noting, "So it would seem." His gaze returned to the flames, wondering, "Does sleep elude you, too, General?"
"Well enough," Maximus confirmed. "Though I am oft haunted by the events on the battlefield. You've a different look about you tonight."
"Am I that transparent?"
Maximus snorted, admitting, "No. In truth, I overheard what the Emperor offered you. What an honor, my friend."
Marcus nodded absently, agreeing almost inaudibly, "An honor..."
"Do I detect a hint of distain?"
Marcus looked up sharply, "Of course not, General, I did not intend to sound - "
"Be at ease, Marcus, my friend," Maximus chuckled, "we are alone here, you may speak freely. Come, tell me why I had to scour the camp to locate you. Why does the proposal to the daughter of the Emperor send you into isolation?"
Marcus sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees; the flames silent in their wisdom, only spewing muted whispers of ash. "I love her," the accented soldier spoke quietly, sharing his secret with the fire.
Maximus sighed, "Lucilla is a woman of great beauty - "
"With respect, General," Marcus interrupted, turning to look at Maximus with near glassy eyes, "but while Lucilla is, indeed, beautiful; I fell in love with Venus."
Now, General Maximus smiled brightly, genuinely, softly identifying your name, musing, "The People's Princess."
Marcus chuckled, "Mine own Morning and Evening Star."
"One helluva woman."
"I'll say - she kneed me upon our first meeting," Marcus grimaced, hand to his crotch in phantom pain.
"Ah," Maximus laughed boisterously, "sounds like her. A true gem of a lady, rivaled by none."
"The fact that she even looked at me again after that..." Marcus had a far off look, one Maximus recognized well as one he adorned during his own affair with Lucilla. "Let alone that she... She loves me, too, Maximus. I know she's young, but what a feat to have her love. Yet, now..."
"Yet now the Emperor would have you marry his widowed Lucilla instead," Maximus finished, recalling the conversation he heard. "He needs an answer by morning, when you are to ship off once more to bring together his idea of Rome. The timing is... Less than ideal, I'll admit."
"How can I tell the Emperor no?" The soldier begged his General, almost startling him. "Maximus, please, you say you are my friend - please - how can I say no to marrying the Emperor's widowed daughter, and in the same breath, ask to marry his youngest? The very embodiment of Venus herself - whom all men and women covet?"
Maximus sighed and reached out to grab the solider's shoulder, giving a small rustle while asking, "Well, what did you tell the Emperor?"
"That he honors me with such an offer."
"And are you a man of honor, Marcus Acacius?"
"I endeavor to be."
Maximus sighed deeply, giving his man's shoulder a harder, more meaningful shake, "Then honor our Emperor - honor Rome - and accept his proposal. Lucilla's boy will need a father."
With one last smack, Maximus dropped his hand from Marcus just as the wood burning into embers crackled and hissed as if to input its opinion. Neither man listened.
"How am I to tell Y/N?" Marcus asked desperately. "The woman who loves me when I am nobody, with nothing? Who supported all I've done or wanted to do? It'll break her heart."
Maximus snorted in amusement, shocking Marcus, quickly assuring, "Ah. Do not underestimate her, she knows best what is expected of each of us, what our duties must be and where loyalties lie. Worry not, she will understand - better than any, of that, I can promise."
"How can you be so certain?"
"Because she once told me..." The two leaned in, Maximus gripping Marcus by the back of the neck to intimately hush, "There is Strength in Honor. And I know no stronger woman than she. Minerva in Venus' body, eh?"
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16 years later Year 196 AD
You were draped in sheer white fabric, latched by shining belts and broaches of glimmering gold to match the gem-crusted jewelry dangling from your neck, wrists, and earrings. Different sized rings sat on freshly manicured fingers, moisturized in the finest of oils, a delicately crafted circlet of ivy crowned hair coiled in ringlets.
You waited in the ranks of other persons of high society ready to greet the procession of officers returning from their gruesome efforts abroad. Despite your position in society, you were - unfortunately - still a woman and women were never listened to; so, you leaned into your peer-appointed high-societal ranking and did your best to influence the Senators of the Republic. It wasn't exactly hard, being the People's Venus, the People's Princess, the People's Empress, the Should-Be Empress, or even the Never Empress - a nickname you weren't so fond of. You were the voice of the people and most had enough sense to tolerate you, else risk the wrath of the whole of the city in riots.
Twin Emperors Geta and Caracalla knew to keep you close, a symbol of peace and prosperity to the people; a puppet on strings, free for them to do or command as they pleased with no complaint from you since your only safety net, your father, Marcus Aurelius, has long since passed. Yet, despite their vivaciously open sexual appetite, the Twins never dared touch or disrespect you by soiling your innocence - hence the symbolic white drapes you wore, being unmarried. Little did anyone know, with the incineration of your safety net from your father's death, anew shall be woven.
When the heroes of Rome returned, you were called upon to greet the soldiers - and their officers, including the General. Floral petals snowed from the sky, and from your elevated position, watched as the love of your life was charted through the city on a chariot - wearing pristine matching white.
He waved to the crowds, honored by the hearty reception thrown to celebrate both his return and victory. You were merely relieved at the sight of him - whole, no visible wounds, and most importantly, alive. You were part of the welcoming party, a face people expected to see as despite not being married to either Emperor, they considered you their Empress. Something your older sister, Lucilla, did not particularly like - yet would never voice.
You waved from a private balcony, greeting the people cheering for their returning warriors. While a symbol of purity, white also symbolized victory - two sides of your coin, as cocky as that may sound. To the public, your innocence was still intact and yet, maintained secret hold of the man you loved. You slowly strolled along the banister, keeping par with the chariot hosting General Marcus Acacius, his eyes finding yours and holding for several long moments. You rounded into the palace's courtyard, waiting in the wings and simply watching Marcus ascend the stairs to greet the Emperors and briefly detail his successful campaign abroad.
You watched from the crowd of Senators, eyeing the General subtly to suss out any smaller injury he might've sported; ignoring the fact that his wife, your sister, was absent. After he properly greeted Emperors Geta and Caracalla, and presented the trophies (or spoils) of war, he was dismissed with a fresh, weeping cut to his neck. You felt something stir in your gut, making sure to catch Marcus' eye again before smirking and slinking away to attend your royal appearances.
Due to your father's legendary influence, corrupted brother's demise, and sister's emotional distress, the people turned to you for guidance and wisdom; part of why Geta kept you so close, having an unhealthy attachment to you as Commodus once did Lucilla. He did not mind your abrupt departure, watching you exit the royal grounds with your usual set of guards to begin daily duties around the city.
As selfish as it sounds, this was how you kept your place in a kingdom no longer your own: by getting your hands dirty. To work alongside citizens; to carry your own weight and soil pretty white fabric to facilitate a deep love from the people. Your most popular implementation was the law that food from the palace shall be sent to orphanages first, then what was left to the less fortunate. Whereas the Senators viewed your charity as a sign of weakness, Geta only allowed it because of his unsettling obsession, but you cared little for their opinions as it meant the food was not a waste and you secured your safety amongst the citizens of Rome. They knew your face, could voice their woes, found a friend in you rather than a politician.
Princess of the People, indeed.
Knowing the upcoming Games would be the official celebration of Rome and today was to be used to update the politicians on their success, you ended the day by mixing and mingling with the other persons of influence before returning to the private, personal villa armed with men hand selected by the General himself. They bid you a good evening as you passed, swiping the shaw from your shoulders with a heavy sigh of fake playing nice with the Emperors and others.
Their craven ways rubbed you wrong after your brother, Commodus, wrongfully usurped your father's throne after his passing; leading to a broken bloodline you were unsure how to fix. Though you understood why, you tried not to judge your sister too harshly on her decision to send your nephew, Lucius, away. Though it was a struggle the longer you lingered in the company of the Twin Emperors.
"My lady," a voice greeted, startling you enough to gasp and stumble back into a spare table in the middle of the room you passed through; knocking over a golden bowl of fruit.
"Marcus!" You snapped, seeing him remove his cloak's hood from the doorway he'd entered from with a smirk. He neared you as you caught your breath, hand to your chest, demanding, "Why have you come? What're you - you - you cannot be here, Marcus!"
"'Cannot'?" He repeated, slowly stalking down the stone stairs. "I do not remember asking permission, Princess."
"Yet still, you are denied, General," you scoffed, glancing at the other (empty) known entrances. "You risk everything by coming here now. Why? Have you not had your fill of adrenaline?"
"I had to see you, there is nowhere else I am to be but here with you, my lady. Are you displeased with me?" Acacius questioned, stepping in front of you with his hands once clasped in front of him, lifting to grip your waist.
"Never," you breathed, petting down his armored chest, "but my sister will be expecting you - you should not be here. If anyone were to discover us, there's no excuse we could offer."
Marcus sighed deeply, "With respect, my star, Lucilla is not my priority. She did not bother to attend the ceremony, it isn't like she's wanton to see me." His forehead rested on yours, "But I could not bare another second without you - "
You silenced him by lifting onto your toes and searing a kiss to his lips; holding the back of his neck for balance. His calloused hands tightened on your ribs, groaning in relief when your lips spread and both tongues instantly began their slippery dance of dominance. Nails raked into the short curls at the base of his head, other hand drifting to hook around his shoulders.
Waiting for a natural lull, you pulled back, "I've missed you."
"I swear to you, no more than I've missed you," he hissed, hands dropping to trace the curve of your bottom only to grip both thighs and heave so you were pushed back onto the round table the fruit toppled from. He didn't have to, but still spread your legs to stand between them; mouths open, tongues licking into one another. "I came straight here - after Geta dismissed me," his lips latched to your neck, licking, biting, careful not to leave any visible marks, "I had to, I needed to see you. I cannot stand the distance that curates between us."
"As much as I want to take our time, Marcus, you know someone will come looking, my love," you cautioned, sliding closer to reach for his many belts and latches. He began to assist you.
"Being why I chose your guards as I did," he chuckled, both moving frantically to shed his armor. "They're discreet, they'll hold off whoever may come and give us enough warning, too."
"Even from your secret tunnels?" You teased, working now on your broaches and belts as he stripped bare.
"Even there," he assured, nudging your hands away to bunch together the skirts of your dress and bundle them around your waist. "Thank the Gods," he breathed when your bare cunt was exposed to the cool night air; fingernails raking down the outside of your thighs to caress either knee to spread you further.
"I love you, Marcus, but if you're not in me in the next 30 seconds, I swear to every God - "
His laugh was borderline cruel, taking his free cock in hand to pump himself to full life. "Let me see you," he demanded, settling your hips at the very edge of the table while you freed your chest from the confines of your dress. "Good fuckin' girl," he praised, lathering his cockhead at the entrance of your progressively dampening cunt. Marcus' upper lip snarled as he took a moment to swipe himself from cunt to asshole, back, again, then notching and checking, "Good?"
"Please," you begged with a nod, yanking him by the shoulders so he pushed fully into you until sheathed like his sword deep within the enemy. Yet your wet warmth was no foe, but a succulent vixen that left his head spinning, heart hammering; totally addicted and coming back for more. Yet the way he instantly chose a feral rhythm to pound into you on a random table instead of the bed would've made any spectator think he was working out some kind of anger. Though hard to explain, you still felt every inch of his care, devotion, and love, but felt just as panicked to fuck him after his long trip away.
His movements left you absolutely speechless, repeatedly impaling you and feeling as if you were being fucked through the table; only able to hang on for dear life. "Oh, fuck the Gods," he panted, lips finding purchase along your collarbones, "needed this, needed this so fuckin' bad - just needed you. You feel heavenly, my love, shit, how're you this perfect?"
You could barely respond, "I have the perfect man to impress."
"Never need worry about that," he chuckled, coat of sweat layering both of your skin. "Fuckin' obsessed with you, my star, oh, fuck, just look at you," his one hand rose to curl around your neck, head instantly falling back to let your hair tickle down your spine. "My Venus, my perfect lady, my love," he grunted, guiding your torso back to rest on the face of the table so he could paw messily at your bouncing breasts.
"Mar-Marcus," you begged, writhing from the pleasure that now mounted after the subtle pain passed. Even after losing your virginity, going so long without your man's cock left you tighter than usual. And his vigorous speed and rhythm didn't help soothe the pain; but you didn't complain, part of you even enjoying that pinch, the stretch, the burn of him filling you. "Baby," you rushed, "fuck, you feel so good - don't stop."
"If I had it my way, this is how we'd live," he grit, humping into you with shorter strokes as his balls tightened with his mounting orgasm. "With me in you, in this tight, wet cunt, all the time. I'd never leave, never be apart from you," his mouth fell to your tit, biting harshly at the pebbled nipple before soothing his tongue over the sensitive flesh. "We'd go missing for days," he mumbled, lifting his mouth to your neck, "never to be seen, just lost in one another. I'll get us a country house," he promised over your lips, "give us remote, total privacy. Get away from this toxic city, be at peace, have free reign to fuck where we please. Everywhere, anywhere - ah, shit, love, I'm there - I'm there - fuck - "
"Please, please," you encouraged, nails digging into his biceps, "I need you to cum, Marcus, please, my love, cum in me, it's been too long - fuck, I need you to fill me."
"Fuck, yes," he hissed, "and watch you grow with our child in the countryside."
"Yes, please, please," you cried, toying with your own pleasure pearl to bring about your release. "All of it, Marcus, please, I need it - I need you - I need us - forever, please."
He reached to caress your cheek, the other planting your sweaty hips, "You'll never be without me. I love you - I've always loved you, for my life. All my life, it's always been you."
You moaned from the emotional intimacy, pressing harder on your clit as you reached your end in time for Marcus to find his own. With heavy grunts, he gave three direct, sharp thrusts as he milked himself for his worth in you. You were perfectly out of breath and fucked-out, holding him to you as he folded at the waist - still pulsing and twitching deep inside you - to recover from his simultaneous climax.
"Holy shit," you whispered, now lovingly scraping your nails over his scalp.
"Yeah," he chuckled against your sternum.
"Don't leave me for so long again, please."
"Not if I can help it," he mused, turning his head to kiss between your breasts slowly. When his eyes met yours, he asked softly, "All right, my love? Did I hurt you?"
"No, not at all," you assured. "I needed you just as bad." The air turned poignant as you sighed, "And now... You must go home to her."
Marcus paused before lifting from you, never pulling out. He looked at you for a long moment before gently collecting you into his chest, forcing you to sit upright. Pathetic tears of misplaced longing and sadness were brewing, something your lover could see. "I don't have to leave yet," he whispered, "for the Emperors are still hosting an affair in my honor. She will not expect me for hours more..." He pulled you off the table, making you gasp as his cock slipped out and your arms shot out to wrap around his shoulders. Your legs locked around his waist in an effort to keep your balance while calloused fingers dug into the soft, ample, plush flesh of your bottom. "And I am not finished with you yet, my star. It will be a long night for you, that, I will promise now."
You nodded, caressing his stubbled cheek; leaning in to press a sweet kiss to his lips as he moved for the privacy of your (usually shared) bedroom.
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"Listen up, you mongrels," one of the guards, Augustus, shouted over the gaggle of gladiators, "all of you are expected to be on your best behavior! Because today - today, lads, we're being blessed with a visit from Venus!"
Those around Lucius chanted and hooted in what he understood as genuine excitement, piquing his curiosity with shifting and shining eyes. Surely, there was no real physical deity of the Roman Goddess of Love and Beauty - so who was this Venus creating such a stir? For a moment, he considered his Aunt - whom, as a child, he remembered being revered as Emperor Aurelius's Venus - but there was no way she was still alive, let alone in Rome. Right?
"You all know the rules!" Augustus grunted. "Mind yourselves and do not touch her! None of you," he glared pointedly over the crowd, zeroing in on Lucius, "may touch her."
"The hell's everyone on about?" Lucius asked when the courtyard dispersed to let the warriors begin their sparring and various trainings. "Venus?" He scoffed in disbelief, glancing at Ravi. "Seriously? What a cheap ploy."
"The People's Princess," the former gladiator-turned-healer informed, "the Should-Be Empress. Some whisper she's the Never Empress."
"That does little t'tell me anything," Lucius rolled his eyes in humor.
"She is Marcus Aurelius' youngest daughter," Ravi informed with a lowered voice, "rumored as our very own Helen of Troy. Our Venus of Rome, Y/N Aurelius. She's of the people, comes around once a week or so to tend to the wounded and such, and you will mind your manners."
"Hm," Lucius perked his brows, unimpressed by any Roman imperial. Even his own flesh and blood.
He noted when the doors opened, it was General Acacius himself escorting a women of such gorgeous stature, she belonged encased in marble. She wore drapes of varying blues, holding the General's arm tenderly as she earned her footing after dismounting her horse. Lucius watched as she spoke with kindness and animation to the guards of the Colosseum, surveying the group through kicked-up dirt.
Augustus pointed out the few gladiator's that had sustained larger injury - himself included.
Lucius noted the close, attentive, almost protective gaze the General kept on the Lady Aurelius as she worked through the crowded courtyard. Some gladiators needed no tending but still insisted she look at their cuts or bruises, her obviously just humoring them as it seemed they were all friendly enough. Then... Venus came upon Lucius and Ravi last.
"My friend," you greeted with your luscious locks pinned back off your neck and ears. The heat was rather unforgiving today.
"My Lady," Ravi shot to his feet, giving a small bow of his head as she caressed his elbow with a grin. "You look as beautiful as ever - blue's your color."
"You say that about every color I wear," you mused.
Ravi blushed, "It is truth each and every time, my Lady."
"Oh, you charmer. And who might this be?" You directed at the newest, unrecognizable fighter.
"A gladiator," Lucius answered stiffly, wiping his hands on a rag and avoiding your eyes.
"With a gorgeously festering cut," you noted, pointing to his bicep. "May I?" You offered, already moving around the benches to take a seat. Begrudgingly, Lucius agreed; sitting and offering his arm for you to examine with narrowed eyes and gentle fingers, humming knowingly. "I have a poultice that should soothe this infection, but it might need cleared and stitched first," you considered the wound, asking your friend, "have you seen this, Ravi?"
"I have, Lady, and tried treating it - but none have hands as gentle and healing as yours."
"You're too kind," you chuckled. "Though with so much carnage of late, I fear my talents in healing are wasted here."
"What would you know of carnage, my Lady?" Lucius spat. You looked up to hold his gaze for several long moments, a slow smirk pulling on one side of your lips as his eyes - there was something about this particular gladiator's eyes.
"I know my father, Marcus Aurelius, died for a vision of Rome that his loyal devotees endeavored to build," you informed, prodding at his wound with a thin needle, your own medical case open at your feet. "He was murdered, his throne usurped. I was there once upon a time, amongst the bodies. The carnage, death and destruction."
"Why would a Princess of Rome be one the frontlines?" Lucius scoffed, glancing at Ravi with a dramatic snarled lip. He wanted so badly to resist the Lady's charm - but even he had to admit, he was faltering.
"Experience is the best teacher, Gladiator, we all learn most successfully through exposure," you offered simply. "I was there, tending the wounded, harvesting our dead. I saw what war does to a nation, to the land and resources, but most of all, to its people; but I also understood my father's reasoning and necessity. Yet now?" You scoffed, eyes rolling at the man's bloodied bicep as you seemingly lost yourself in explanation, "Those that come after him have done nothing to bring his Empire together, nor deserve such triumph - or so they call it. I do not know of such victory when there's been too much life lost - and so unnecessarily, too. Father would be disgusted by the efforts our Republic has shown."
"Yet you parade with the very general responsible for such carnage you claim to disagree with," Lucius snarled softly, glaring at you threading the needle.
You hummed and threw a stitch in his open cut, "While easy to blame, General Marcus Acacius is a man of great honor and not the man your anger - which you cannot hide," you snickered, bumping Ravi's shoulder with yours, " - should be directed at." When Lucious scoffed and shook his head, ready to retort, you continued, "The General was a solider first and foremost, fought under the greatest gladiator these Games will ever know - the General Maximus Decimus Meridius, the Spaniard." You paused, noting the reaction from the warrior. "Ah. You know the name."
"He's... Honored under the Colosseum, yes," Lucius agreed, seemingly interested in your words suddenly.
"Well - " You had to pick at an angry-looking scab, instantly apologizing, "sorry - sorry - sorry," when it wept again. After using a clean piece of gauze to staunch the bleeding, you continued, "The General is a man of honor, Gladiator, as I said. He takes direction, he is a subject - just like the rest of us. It was not Marcus Acacius who decided the whole of Rome should be expanded - he only took his orders from the Emperors, and for his own life," you smeared the pomade to sculpted flesh, "had no choice but to set sail; to march, fight, invade, concur. There is a reason the people adore him; he is kind and just, fair, generous, accommodating and polite, politically moral - "
"You sound in-love," Lucius interrupted with a knowing grin, teasing you now as his defenses lowered slightly. He wondered if you remembered him; knowing you were younger than he is now when your father passed.
You wrapped his bicep with a simple bandage, "I would not have him become the ire of your anger, nor anyone's - not with our Emperors being as... Unstable," you hushed, tightening the knot of the gauze painfully tight, Lucius hissing through clenched teeth, "as they are."
"You speak dangerously, Lady, restrain yourself," Ravi checked around them for any droppers of eaves.
"I speak to two men who deserve the truth," you corrected. "The General did not wish to invade your home, Gladiator," you told Lucius, "but it was a command he could not refuse. If you wish for vengeance, perhaps direct that anger towards the true enemy of Rome: the greedy and craven who rule it."
"You speak of mutiny," Lucius realized with intrigue, leaning forward to his knees.
"I speak of justice. Tell me what was taken from you, Gladiator, and allow me to aid your division of a plan for your own justice," you bargained, "and in return, I ask only for you to see the truth of Acacius when the time comes."
"Your General sailed onto our shores," Lucius seethed, "to invade our lands and concur our people - unprompted and without reason beyond that of greed. And when my wife shot at him with an arrow, she was struck from our defense walls... I found her in the sea before your General took Roman prisoners of war. And here we now sit, Lady. Tell me - how can you rectify what's been done? How can you justify it to my face?"
"How can any of us? In truth, I cannot imagine the pain, the devastation. Though it means little, I'm sure, allow me to offer my condolences. I'm so sorry about your wife, her fate is unjust, unfair."
He was quiet for a long moment, then nodded, "Thank you. I... I appreciate that."
"I will not justify what Acacius has done during times of battle," you hushed carefully, "but I can direct you towards the true object of ire, those you should not trust. There is something brewing, my friends," you glanced at Ravi, "and we all must be ready. The people are stirring. There has been much done," you told Lucius, "by men greater than General Acacius, much that we cannot rectify. But that does not mean we cannot change the future, adjust course; do better moving forward. I am sorry about you wife, Gladiator, I am - I cannot make you believe that, but trust, I understand the pain of loving someone you cannot have anymore. Yet all I ask of you is to understand, as a gladiator, a solider, a warrior, the General is not who wronged you."
It was quiet as you finished cleaning around Lucius' arm; giving a casual glance around to note where each and every guard was.
The Gladiator questioned quietly to the ground, "Allow me to ask, if one were to... Consider revolting... How might one go about gathering the men and strength?"
You only shrugged and checked his forearms to prolong the ruse of treatment, "I hear rumor there are some 2,000 strong and loyal men to Acacius just outside the city, but rumors are just rumor." You held his icy blue eyes for a long moment, then went back to feigning work as he held no other notable injuries. "Listen, should you still continue this anger with the General, I understand, Gladiator, but allow me to assure, that energy is simply misplaced. You seek the wrong enemy, the wrong death to avenge your wife, because it is not Marcus Acacius, who is only a loyal soldier - yet still slave to the Emperors, as we all are in some degree."
Before anyone could answer, a cart was being lead into the courtyard by a procession of guards. You handed a small jar to Ravi with a set of instructions and when the General approached the tented benches you sat upon, you accepted his helping hand and bid the pair a good day - and to the Gladiator, good luck in his future fights. His smirk broadened when you dropped him a personal, private, knowing wink. You were escorted towards your horses, Lucius leaning towards Ravi, "What's happening with the carts?"
"Venus does not let food go to waste," Ravi smirked. "Anything from the palace is dispersed through the city of the less fortunate. Today, it is our turn."
Lucius turned to face Ravi directly on the bench, questioning sharply, "Who is she? Truly?"
"I told you, as did she."
"What is this kindness she shows? What game does she play?"
Ravi smirked, "There is not a single citizen in Rome who is not self-serving, my friend. Rome was not built in a day, but should something ever happen to her, the entire city would burn in a night. She's our Should-Be Empress, and her kindness is genuine, there is no game. I've come to know her intimately through the years - she's truly her father's daughter. If you question her loyalties, know it is with Rome."
Lucius nodded slowly, watching in the distance as while all were distracted by the arrival of food, the General spoke intimately over Venus. Lucius noted she was who reached to caress his jaw briefly with a grin before turning for their horses. His hands looked all too natural on the Lady's waist as he helped hoist her into the saddle, different questions brewing in the warrior's mind.
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Days later, returning to the palace after visiting the gladiators again for more potent wounds after another round of the Games, your guards dismounted outside the stables as you leisurely strolled inside whilst still mounted. You nodded to the grooms and stablehands, leading your beast into his usual stall; spacious enough to turn him in a circle before dismounting. It was later in the day than you originally intended to return by, but it wasn't as if you were missing anything or had other engagements.
You just wanted to be home. In bed. Preferably with the man you loved, but you'd take a cask of wine at this point.
You tiredly untacked the bridle from your steed as hands seized your waist from behind, making you gasp and with the bridle in hand, swung your fist about as hard as you could. To your shock and horror, the intruder anticipated this and caught your wrist, musing, "Impressive reaction time, my lady."
"Acacius!"
"Sh," he hissed, backing you into the wooden stall's corner, "do you want to get us caught? We've not long - they're turning the horses in soon, but the guards are posted," he let his lips remain parted from his words to all but instantly push his tongue into your mouth. You could not restrain the moan he elicited from your lungs even if you tried, bridle dropping to the sawdust and hay so your hands could find purchase in his curls.
"We don't have time," you insisted when his hands grabbed at the flesh under your skirt.
"You underestimate me?"
"I would never, General," you whimpered when he used every muscles in his arms to lift you onto his waist; pressed back into the wall for balance. In assistance, while he was busy holding you up, you maneuvered the skirts of his tunic and usual armor to free his cock; finding him hot, hard, and heavy. "How're you this - "
"Thought of nothing but you all day, love," he grunted when he needed to readjust to better support you while taking hold of himself. "Don't think I can keep this up much longer, pet," Marcus panted into your mouth, swiping his cockhead up and down your slit to quickly ready you. He paused to pull back and spit in his hand, using that to smear around himself. "This sneaking around, the secrets, this affair. I love you, I want to be with you in every way; I don't think I can keep up with this ruse any more, my sweet."
"Acacius, you must."
"No, no, you don't understand," he heaved when he sunk inward, encasing himself in your gooey warmth, "I'm at my wits end, my lady. You are all I know, all I think of, I cannot be without you." His teeth bared as he humped into you wildly, bodies banging into the stall; making you reach out to hold onto the wall as the other slapped around his shoulders. Your nails dug deep into the layers of flesh.
"You're," you moaned and gasped in his ear, feeling his skin slick with sweat already, "you're - you're married - "
"That can change."
"To my sister, no less!"
"Matters little to me," he grit against your neck, "because I've loved you for my life and I am sick of not hosting you in my life as appropriate; to not have you as I need, as I must."
"To marry me?" You asked desperately, bringing your arm back in to caress his cheek and keep his face over yours; lips barely grazing together. Knowing he was turned on by emotional intimacy just as much, you continued, "To make me your lady? Love me loudly, in front of them all? All of Rome? Have a baby, perhaps?"
"Yes, yes, exactly that - marry you and watch my seed stick," he snarled into your flesh, humping harder, faster, like a stud horse during the season. "Bet you're gorgeous swollen with child, tits filled with milk - "
"Only when you marry me," you bargained, the sounds of his balls clapping the apex of your cunt a strange comfort to listen to. You didn't even think of the guards. "When my sister is taken care of," your voice lowered as you focused on your orgasms, "given a life of peace. I would not have her outcast as a divorcée."
"I'll see it done on my honor, she'll be taken care of," he promised, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust of his hips, "and then, it's just us, my love, it's us - it'll only be us. As it was always meant to be."
"Only us," you moaned, tears slowly gathering in your eyes. You knew he was too honorable to actually divorce your sister and desecrate your father's dying wish; you knew this was as good as you'd have him. Your heart broke as it did 16 years ago whilst accepting Acacius' orgasm.
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Two days later, you were laid in bed, bare to the world, gazing at Acacius as he slumbered in momentary peace. Guilt wracked your entire being, never wanting to hurt your sister, but after having everything stolen or stripped from you, there was no true shame in loving the man beneath you.
Or so you told yourself.
"I can feel you staring again."
With a chuckle, you watched Acacius open his eyes and tilt his head downward. "You're just so handsome, I can't look away," you whispered. "And we don't often get hours like this, I want to relish in this sight."
He hummed, "A fault I shall amend. Do you know the time, my star?" Based on your saddened expression, he guessed, "Time to go, I suppose?"
"She'll get suspicious if you stay much longer."
"She pays me no heed," Acacius scoffed, rolling his eyes as he sat up; forcing you to roll off him in shock. "Our entire marriage - she doesn't so much as look at me, not the way she looked at Maximus. Not the way I look at you."
"I care little for how she looks at you, it's about the law, Acacius!"
"Spare me the law! She is committing far worse than me!" He snapped, making you recoil slightly; clutching the thin white sheet to your chest. When he noted your expression, Acacius sighed, "I'm sorry, my star, I should not have spoke in such a manner."
"It's not the manner in which you spoke," you watched him dress with your heart drowning in your chest, "but the meaning behind such words."
"I did not wish to tell you," he spoke to the tunic being adjusted, "but there have been... Suspicions."
"What sort?"
"Have you never wondered? In the years we've been married, she's never bore us a child?"
"Not for lack of trying, I'm sure."
Acacius shook his head. "She used herbal remedies to rid herself of the implications of our coupling," he frowned, watching the information register. You got from your bed, wrapping the sheet around you as he sighed, "I did not want you to know for this reason, do not look at me like that - "
"As long as I've known you, you've wanted to be a father," you pointed out, "and now you tell me, my sister's been secretly, what, aborting - ?"
"Yes," he spoke seriously, "and to the Empire, that is a serious offense. Yet I spoke nothing of it, I never confronted her out of guilt. She had Maximus, I have you; it was only fair of me to keep quiet of my suspicions."
"There's no such thing as fair, Acacius!"
"Then we shall make it so. Your father - he made what he wanted, why can we not do the same?"
And so, at long last... You had been forced to the table. The time had come for "the talk". Much was discussed late into the night, seemingly forgetting about time restraints as the seriousness of your conversation took precedent.
At the center of it all, you had realized the Twins could no longer rule and a revolution needed to take place. Rome needed saved, you bore a responsibility to the Empire and her citizens first. You lead the idea, Acacius supporting you wholly as ideas came to mind almost rapidly - reminding him once of your father, and later, of Maximus in some ways.
After dressing, you walked the General to one of the many hidden entrances of your villa; unaware of a nearby maid lurking around a column, a newly non-vetted face in your home. A detail that slipped through the cracks and would lead to devastation. She listened as you promised, "I'll go tomorrow before we meet with the Senators, but I am sure the gladiators will fight with us."
"Let me go instead, the men know my face, they will take my order," Acacius tried once more.
"They know and trust me, too," you smirked. "Father outlawed the Games for a reason, I have strong suspicion they will fight with us. Rome will fight with us, she deserves better than what she's getting now, it's up to us to complete Father's vision."
"And the Senators?"
"We'll find out tomorrow." The maid gasped to herself and fled around the corner, rushing for a distant entrance. "I'll send word to them by morning. Acacius, you know we speak of overthrowing the Emperors, whom we are both sworn to serve... Are we sure? The people are behind us, but are we sure this is the best course of action?"
"There's little other choice. I fear it's this or we run away - abandon the Roman Empire to her devices under craven rulers who someone will surely overthrow eventually."
You nodded, tears gathering, "We're truly doing this?"
"We're truly doing this," he swore, taking either cheek in hand. "I'm divorcing your sister, we'll free the gladiators, lead my men into the city and take it back; turn the tide for Rome at long last."
"As Father intended..."
Marcus nodded, glancing down before pulling you forward into his chest, requesting hastily, "Don't drink the tea."
"My love, the tea is how we stay safe."
"The tea is what poisons my seed. I'll marry you by next week, there'll be no need by then - why not start now?"
You gulped, "Because if this revolution doesn't work, the tea might be ineffective in a few days."
"Good."
"Acacius," you scolded, "this is serious - "
"I'm well aware," he rushed, thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks. "I know the gravity of my words, of what I ask you. Yet I will still request you do not drink the tea - though, I cannot tell you what to do with your own body."
You were quiet, leaning into his embrace until your foreheads met and his hands dropped to hold you by the hips. "I am not my sister, I will not make a decision such as this by myself, for myself. I won't drink the tea tonight, but I will have a decision about it by tomorrow."
"Of course," he whispered, "fair is fair, my star."
Your nose nuzzled up his, agreeing, "Fair is fair."
"Tomorrow then."
You froze, shaking your head for a moment, "Now that it's time, I don't think I can let you go."
"So continues our nearly 20-year dilemma," he groaned, pulling you in for an embrace; pressing his face into your neck, one arm tight around your waist as the other gripped the back of your head. Quietly, he swore, "Soon, this will all be over, my love. We will all be at peace, able to honor what we've earned."
You whispered, "There will be Strength in our Honor."
"It's strength and honor, love," he snickered.
"Not my version."
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[ part two: read here ]
[ part three: read here ]
requesting rules and masterlist
-> no Gladiator II masterlist
Acacius got me like:
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yah know?
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reallyromealone · 1 month ago
Text
Title: autographs
Fandom: DC
Characters: wonder woman, batfam
Fic type: fluff
Pairings: Bruce x reader
Warnings: male reader, reader insert, ftm reader, fluff, sexual themes between Bruce and reader(mentions of sexual things like slick and such)(they get interrupted by the children and reader simps for his husband), the bat kids are kids, happy family, reader is a stay at home dad
Notes:
Summary:reader works hard to care for his big family and Bruce decides to swallow his pride and get his husband and son an autograph of a hero the two love
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
Bruce sighed while holding two photos of wonder woman for said woman to sign.
The things he did for the ones he loved.
His husband and second eldest loved her, watching her fights on the tv and Bruce knew they were too shy to ask him to get autographs but he was willing to do this for them... Their faces would be worth it.
Finding her was easy, the woman towering over her peers with Amazonian height "wonder Woman, I need to speak with you for a moment" Bruce spoke seriously and Diana raised an eyebrow but followed him into another room of the watchtower "what's the matter, batman?" She asked seriously and Bruce sighed "I have a request..." He pulled out the photos "my husband and son are quite the fans of you and are too nervous to meet you themselves..."
"They want autographs?" She said with a soft smile "yes, they look up to you quite a bit"
"If you ever want, I could always make an appearance for them" she signed the pictures and handed them to him "I think Jason would lose his mind at that"
"And (name)?"
"Would explode"
"Well I guess I should make a trip to Gotham sometime"
"Perhaps you should"
(Name) Was helping Alfred with chores, handling the laundry while having his children help via making it a game "gogo! Throw it as fast as you can!" The fastest kid to throw their laundry in the machine got two packets of gummy Candy's instead of one! Little baby Damien strapped to his chest while Tim and Duke tried to put their combined laundry together while Jason and Dick cheered them on, as the older ones they knew they could reasonably get a snack whenever but the littles didn't have that freedom get because they would have another juice incident.
The girls were out with (name)s mother for the day, having some girl time without the boys and all the chaos that came with them.
Frankly (name) was happy that his mom was willing to take a role like that on, offering the girls a female role model of realistic expectations was critical at such a young age.
"Woooo! You guys did great!" The boys cheered, happy they 'won' but actually just helped do chores "now why don't you follow your brothers for a snack?" He ushered the boys out and they cheered at the extra snack and (name) Pat the elder twos heads while Damien whined "yeah yeah, it's naptime buddy..." (Name) Unhooked him and brought him up to his nursery, kissing his little head "you get good sleep and dream good stuff for me, alright?" The babe babbled and (name) began mumbling a lullaby, gently rocking the crib.
Eventually Damian fell asleep and (name) went to go check on his hellions he lovingly called children and smiled when he saw them playing video games, the littles on auto mode as they haven't quite figured out how to properly play video games but still be included. He loved that his kids got along so well-- well most of the time.
Deciding to take a minute, he slinked down into the cave for a needed moment alone without his little ones making demands, Alfred keeping an ear for them and with a baby monitor he decided to take a nap on the small seating area in the corner while he waited for Bruce to return. Taking care of eight children was no easy feat but him and Bruce made it work, it being the weekend the whole family was home, typically it was school and preschool, little Damien and Cass with a nanny while (name) helped Alfred or was out with Bruce doing public things.
(Name) Woke to the sound of the engine of the batmobile, lifting his body to see Bruce step up in full suit and made no attempts in hiding his blatantly roaming eyes "you see something you like?" Bruce teased taking off his cowl and (name) hummed "you have no idea..." The man was ready to climb the dark knight like a tree and do things most unholy.
"Well hold onto that, I have something for you" Bruce teased and pulled out a rolled picture and handed it to (name) gently unrolled it "no fucking way..." (Name) Whispered before looking at him "babe... You got her autograph?!" He jumped up and Bruce chuckled "she was more than happy to sigh for you and Jason" holding out the other picture (name) had a love sick smile on his face "oh he's gonna lose his mind, you're a good dad" (name) pulled Bruce close by his hips and kissed him gently "I try what I can..." Bruce mumbled and resumed kissing him, always a sucker for his husband's lips.
Jason was getting ready for bed when he saw the photo on his bed, immediately clutching the picture to see it's authenticity and hopped out of bed and ran down to his parents room and knocked on the door "papa? Dad?"
(Name) Froze his actions when he heard his son and looked at Bruce "sorry, baby" he whispered and they immediately put pants on, (name) wiping his thighs and cringing at the slick between his legs... "Eugh" he grumbled and pulled on Bruce's shirt before going and opening the door "what's up jaybird?" He asked his second eldest and let him in "look!" Jason showed the autograph "your dad got you that, why don't you go thank him?" (Name) Gestured to Bruce who smiled at his kid, Jason immediately running and hugging him "thank you! Thank you!" Bruce hugged him tight, kissing the top of his head aggressively and making the boy laugh "oh no! My son fell into the dad hug trap! He will never escape!" (Name) Teased quietly and Jason laughed and gave non committal plea for freedom and Bruce let him go but not without another kiss to the forehead.
"Now go back to bed, Birdy" (name) said to his son "you can show your brothers tomorrow, yeah?"
"Ok! Love you guys!"
"Love you too baby"
(Name) Waited till he couldn't hear the footsteps and immediately turned to look at Bruce "you're a good dad" he walked over and got situated in Bruce's lap, Bruce admiring his handsome husband who gently cupped his jawline "and you're a good husband for putting up with me"
"Someone's gotta make sure you take naps and eat" he teased the man who grumbled "and I gotta make sure you don't wear your binder too long" Bruce teased back and pinched (name)s butt cheek "yeah yeah!" He teased, the two grinning and kissing each other "now where were we?"
"now I kind of just wanna cuddle...."
".... What movie then"
"the princess Bride :)"
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