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serpentandlily · 7 months

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Untouchable V - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst, suggestive situations

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part V

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Azriel couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Not when she was wearing those leathers that clung to her frame, highlighting her body from head to toe. Not when she had her wings out, her beautiful, magnificent wings.

She was so effortlessly stunning. The most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He knew no one would ever come close. No one had ever quite captured his attention like she had. His own personal forbidden fruit.

Every night he thought of her as he touched himself, of what it might feel like to have her, to claim her as his. The noises he would draw out of her. How beautiful she would look with a flushed face and swollen lips.

And every morning he thought of what it might be like to wake up with her in his arms, for her beautiful smile to be the first thing he saw every day. He wanted that more than anything, more than even sex. He just wanted her.

A large hand clamping down on his shoulder jostled him from his thoughts. Cassian stood next to him, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop now,” he murmured under his breath. “Rhys looks seconds away from murdering you.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed towards his High Lord, now noticing the piercing stare directed his way. Fuck. Had he been so obvious? He needed to get a hold of himself. It had gotten harder and harder to ignore his feelings for Rhys’s sister after she had confessed to feeling the same way about him.

His eyes went back to watching the female Illyrians go through their training exercises. That's what they were here for after all. To check on their progress. Not to ogle at the High Lord's sister in her tight, enticing leathers.

"He acts like her godsdamn father," Azriel hissed, unable to stop himself.

Cassian gave him a troubling look. "He practically is, Az. He had to raise her himself since she was thirteen."

"And?" Azriel huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's not thirteen anymore."

"Yeah, I can tell you've noticed," Cassian bit back, crossing his own arms as he stared at his friend. Azriel felt like rolling his eyes. It was enough dealing with Rhys and his overprotective nature. He didn't need Cassian to join.

"Oh, fuck off. I'm just pointing out how ridiculous he is when it comes to her. She's nearly three-hundred. Do you remember all the shit we got up to at that age?"

"No, I won't fuck off," Cassian snarled, unusually serious for once. "You're walking a very fine line, brother. It doesn't matter how old she is. He will always see her as that thirteen year old girl he found covered in their own mother's blood in the snow.”

“I was there too you know,” Azriel muttered, darkly. “I was the one that found them, the one that scared off Tamlin’s father and brothers.”

Cassian’s eyes softened. “I know, Az. I know. And I know how much Rhys thanks the Mother every day for that. But we made a promise to him, remember?”

Azriel scoffed. Of course he remembered. That day would always haunt him. He hadn’t even known at the time what exactly he had been giving up.

“What are you trying to insinuate, Cass?” He glared at his brother. He could feel his shadows getting riled up behind him—a reflection of his mood.

“I know you, Az. And I know that look on your face. You want to get your dick wet—go find some other female to stick it in,” Cassian murmured under his breath. “Stay away from Rhys’s sister. He might love you like a brother but he won’t hesitate to rip your throat out if you touch her, if you hurt her in some way.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Azriel replied, his face slipping back into a cold mask, his voice flat as he stared down Cassian.

But Cassian only shook his head at him, patted him on the shoulder, and walked away, muttering a small prayer to the Mother under his breath.

Azriel went back to observing the Illyrian females. If Rhys was so fucking concerned about him messing with his sister, than he could excuse him from his duty as her guard.

Besides, none of it mattered. As long as that tattoo was on his body, it didn’t matter how he felt. He couldn’t touch her. And she would never be his.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ever since that night in the study, you and Azriel had kept your interactions to the bare minimum. He was still your personal guard, which meant you couldn’t just stop seeing or talking to him while doing business in Hewn City. But the wound was still fresh, your heart was still aching, so it hurt just to be around him.

You had put off answering the Prince in hopes that Azriel would start making sense, would give up on whatever weird notion he had in his mind that he couldn’t act on his feelings for you. But he had offered you no more answers to the millions of questions you had. Had refused to even discuss it any further, so there was nothing you could do but move on.

Which is why you and the majority of your family were in Vallahan. Rhys and Prince Cedric had exchanged some correspondence back and forth and while you weren’t accepting any marriage proposals any time soon, you weren’t completely opposed to getting to know Cedric more.

So the Prince had invited you, your brother and a few of his courtiers to visit King’s Cross in Vallahan as his esteemed guests. Rhysand had brought along Feyre, of course, Azriel, Cassian and Nesta. Since Mor was already familiar with the faeries here, she had stayed back with Amren to run the Night Court while you guys were away.

Elain has also stayed back to watch over baby Nyx in Velaris with Nuala and Cerridwen. Some of the Valkyries had agreed to act as guards for the River House as well, to ease Rhys and Feyre’s minds. It was the first time they were leaving Nyx for longer than a day. But they didn’t want to bring him into foreign territory—especially not one across the seas.

You had just finished getting ready for the first formal dinner here, deciding on wearing something from the Night Court instead of something in Vallahan fashion. You didn’t want the Prince getting any ideas that you had made up your mind.

The dress you put on was a dark, midnight blue. It fell to the floor, two slits on either side to show off your legs. The top was cut into a deep v and ended right below your breasts, connected to the skirt with leather straps that criss-crossed over your stomach.

You left your hair down and opted for minimal makeup. Just the usual kohl around your eyes and a dark red lip oil. You looked at yourself one more time before stepping out of your room and into the quiet corridor.

Azriel was already waiting for you, leaning against the wall opposite in his black Illyrian leathers. His expression was dark, his hair tousled with some pieces falling on his forehead. He looked up at you as your door closed shut behind you. You watched his eyes trail over your form, bringing some color to your cheeks.

You started making your way towards the dining chambers, Azriel following a pace behind you as your official guardian. You felt his shadows caress your thighs, cascade down to your feet. You clenched your fists in frustration.

“You cannot deny me and still try to have some claim over me,” you hissed under your breath. “Take your shadows back, Az.”

“I am your guard.” You heard his dark voice from behind you. “And they are simply helping me. It is for your protection, Princess.”

You whirled around at him with a glare. “That’s bullshit and you know it!”

He stared at you with that cold, unfeeling face that only riled you up further. “You can think what you want, Princess. But I am only doing my job.”

You stalked towards him, pushing him back with a finger to his chest. “Send them away. Now.”

“No.”

You released a noise of frustration and pushed him against the wall. “I mean it, Azriel. I’m done playing your stupid games. Call your shadows off.”

“You’ve never had a problem with them before. Why now?” He stared down at you, unflinching. He flipped you so it was you pressed against the wall now. “It is for your safety so you will deal with it.”

“I hate you,” you growled, pounding a fist against his chest weakly. It was one of the biggest lies to ever come from your mouth but Gods, you were just so frustrated.

Azriel leaned down, his hair brushing against your temple. “Hate me all you want, Princess. But if being your guard is the only way to keep you close to me, then I will be the best damn guard in all of Prythian so your brother has no choice but to let me stay near you. The shadows stay.”

“You won’t have me but you won’t let me go,” you whimpered. “How is that fair, Azriel? You said you don’t want to hurt me but this…this is far worse than you rejecting me and moving on.”

“Because I can’t stay away from you,” he hissed back. “I can’t stay away from you, Princess, no matter how hard I try.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you opened your mouth to shout at him, to scream and cry and demand he leave you alone but another voice cut you off.

“What’s going on over here?”

You both froze as your brother’s voice traveled down the corridor. You turned your head to see him standing at the end of the hallway next to Feyre, his arms crossed as he stared intently at Azriel, who immediately took a step away from you.

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the weird tension between the two males. “My earring got caught in my hair,” you lied. “Azriel was helping me untangle it.”

Rhysand didn’t look convinced but he finally looked at you. His face softened and he held out his free arm, the one not linked with his mate. “Come, little dove, walk with me.”

You scurried past Azriel, not sparing him a glance, and took your brother’s arm, letting him escort you to dinner.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You tried to suppress your yawn but it had been another hour of being dragged around the castle by the Prince and you were so tired. He seemed happy to give you a tour, a tour you swore you had already taken the first time you were here, so you obliged him. But now you just wanted to go back to your chambers, take a nice warm bath, and go to sleep.

Your family departed from Vallahan two days ago, after spending three days here. You had extended your trip to the end of the week by the Prince’s request. Part of you did it to spite Azriel who seemed to detest Cedric and the other, miniscule part of you was genuinely curious about the Prince. But he was turning out to be a total bore. Nice, but dull. He lacked the sort of dry wit you liked in others. He was also extremely soft—too soft. As if he had never had to fight for anything in his life.

“Are you tired, Princess?” Cedric asked, noting your yawn. Before you could even answer the question yourself, he continued. “I only have one last area to show you. I promise I saved the best for last.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile. “Okay, lead the way.”

He extended his arm out to you and you placed your hand in the crevices of his elbow. He led you out of the library he had just been showing you back into the hallway. Azriel trailed behind you, along with one of the Prince’s personal guards, Lasos. Cedric had insisted that the pair of you didn’t need guards whilst together, but Azriel had swiftly rejected that notion and Lasos had joined after realizing that Azriel wasn’t going to let you two be alone.

You didn’t care. If Azriel wanted to be a brooding asshole, then you would let him. You weren’t forcing him to watch Cedric court you, he was doing it all on his own. And maybe you had acted a little extra flirty with the Prince just to rub it in Azriel’s face. If he didn’t want you as his own, then he would have to watch you be with another.

“This is the Queen’s quarters,” Cedric announced as he came to a stop in front of two large double doors. “This is where my future wife would live.”

“The Queen lives separate from the King?” you questioned as he pushed the doors open, revealing a lavish sitting area. The walls and floor were made of white marble like the rest of the castle, gold embellishments decorating the interior.

“If she chooses to,” Cedric smiled. “This is simply a space for her to have all to her own, to use for whatever she wishes. There is a similar area in the main castle where my parents live. My mother uses it as a music room.”

“That’s lovely,” you replied with a bow of your head.

Cedric went to close the doors before either guard could enter, but Azriel quickly stuck a hand out and stopped him with a glare. “It is improper to be behind closed doors with an unwed female,” he growled.

You wanted to roll your eyes. Since when the hell did the Night Court ever care about that? Cedric’s eyebrows rose but he gave the shadowsinger a nod. “Of course, my apologies.”

You turned your back to them, not interested in watching them have another one of their dick measuring contests. It had been like that the whole week so far. Instead you walked towards the window on the other side of the room that overlooked the gardens.

You nearly jumped in fright as two hands ghosted over your waist and a sudden presence was behind you. It wasn’t the first time the Prince had touched you, but it certainly was the most intimate. You had occasionally brushed hands, shared a kiss on the cheek, perhaps walked too close together, and shared some charged looks in the past couple days.

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” Cedric asked, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

You blushed a bit at his closeness, swallowing before answering him. “Yes, the gardens here are gorgeous.”

“Not quite as beautiful as you, though,” Cedric whispered, moving your hair to one shoulder. Your eyes widened as he pressed a soft kiss against your neck. And then another. His lips brushed against your ear and you gasped. “Never quite as beautiful as you, Princess.”

“Prince Cedric,” you mumbled. “We are not alone.”

He twisted you in his arms until you were facing him, his bright blue eyes sparkling. “Lasos is my most trusted guard. I can assure you he won’t speak a word of our transgressions.”

You peaked at the male in question from over Cedric’s shoulder. Lasos had already turned around, his back facing the two of you. But then you looked at Azriel to see him intently staring at you, anger in his eyes. You were reminded of a time like this only a few weeks ago. Except it had been you watching Azriel and Elain.

So when Cedric asked, “What about your guard? Do you trust him to keep your secrets?” You smiled as you continued to stare at Azriel, whose anger was morphing into rage and whispered back, “Yes.”

And let the Prince crash his lips against yours.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You hummed to yourself as you brushed your hair, sitting at the vanity in your guest room. You were surprisingly feeling a bit more light after your time with the Vallahan Prince. You two hadn’t gone any further than kissing, especially considering you were never truly alone, but it felt nice to be wanted by someone. You were a bit sad that your time here was coming to an end.

Soon you’d be back home. Back to reality.

You set down the brush and stared at your reflection in the mirror with a sigh. You weren’t sure what you were going to do if Azriel started up again with Elain. You had no idea if what he had told you was true because everything he had said to you that night had only confused you. In the few weeks since then, you hadn’t noticed them together but you didn’t exactly go looking for them—not wanting to see something that would further hurt you.

He still made no sense to you. You had seen the way he looked at you, watched you, like a starved male. Seen the anger on his face every time the Prince so much as brushed his hand against yours. His behavior was just so confusing.

You would be returning to the Night Court tomorrow after sharing one last meal with the Prince and his courtiers. You wondered if he would ask you then, about his marriage proposal. Neither of you had brought it up in the time you had been here but you hadn’t forgotten. But you didn’t want a marriage that felt like a contract. You wanted to marry someone you loved.

And you did love someone…just not the Prince. But perhaps you could.

Your eyes focused on the mirror in front of you as you noticed darkness forming in the corner of the room behind you…no, not darkness. Those were shadows. They whirled in a frenzy, spreading into your room.

And then there was Azriel, stepping out from them. His face was cut from stone, his hazel eyes darkened, his hair in disarray. But there was something different about him now…a heavy resolve in his eyes. You gasped and stood, spinning around to face him.

“Azriel, what are you doing here?” you breathed out.

He said nothing as he stormed towards you, his wings spread out behind him. Gods, he looked like a fallen angel. A creature of the night. So beautiful, but so lethal. You braced yourself against the vanity behind you.

“Has Prince Cedric won over your heart then?” he asked, his voice as dark as his shadows. He didn’t stop until he stood right before you, so close you had to angle your head back to look at him.

“What?” You were so confused. What was he doing in your room? Why was he asking about Cedric?

“Has the Prince won your heart, y/n?” He asked again. “It’s a simple question.”

Your eyes narrowed at his tone. “Don’t come barging into my room and act like an asshole. I don’t see why you’re so concerned about me and Cedric. It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business,” he growled. “As your guard—”

“Oh please,” you snapped. “Me and you both know you’re not asking me about this because you’re my guard.”

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Then as your friend—”

“Is that what we are, Azriel? Friends?” You scoffed. “I don’t think you want to be my friend.”

“Just answer the godsdamn question,” he snarled, ignoring your remark. “And for fuck’s sake, stop letting these males put their godsdamn hands all over you.”

“No,” you bit back, poking him in the chest. “This shit needs to stop. You know how I feel about you. You know and you’re the one who says we can’t be together. So stop acting like you have some claim to me, Azriel.”

“Do you think I’m happy about that?” Azriel growled. “Do you think I’m thrilled to fucking want you all the time and not be able to have you, to claim you as mine?”

A few frustrated tears escaped down your cheeks. “I offered myself to you. I was ready to give you everything, Azriel. My heart, my body, my mind. And you are the one who rejected me.”

Azriel grabbed the sides of your face and rested his forehead against yours. He was breathing heavily. “You make this so hard when you say shit like that. Please, tell me you hate me again. Tell me you don’t want me.”

“I-I can’t,” you cried out. “Gods, I wish I didn’t. I wish I didn’t feel anything for you. Why are you doing this to me, Azriel? Why?”

His eyes shut, his forehead still resting against yours. “Because…Because you’re Rhys’s sister. I can’t…We can’t cross that line, Princess. He’ll kill me.”

“I am not just Rhys’s sister,” you argued. “I am my own person, with my own wants, with my own dreams. That is a bullshit excuse, Azriel. Rhys will understand. I will make him.”

“You don’t understand,” he sighed. But he stepped even closer, pressing his body against yours, pinning you to the vanity behind you. His leathers were rough against your silk nightgown, and your body sang at his touch.

“No, I don’t,” you breathed out, closing your own eyes. His scent was so intoxicating; his presence so overwhelming. You couldn’t think this close to him. Couldn’t focus on anything but your desperate need for him. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me, Azriel. To us. You said you never wanted to hurt me but can’t you see how much you are by doing this? By telling me you want me as much as I want you but denying us the chance to be together? Can’t you see how much it hurts me.”

“I don’t care anymore, Princess. I don’t care if it hurts you as much as it hurts me,” Azriel growled. “I’m done trying to be a better male. I can’t watch you be with other males, can’t watch them put their filthy hands all over you. Not when I want you as my own.”

Your eyes blinked open, staring into the hazel ones already watching you. You could see the pain behind his own eyes, the longing, the want. They were a mirror to your own.

“So have me,” you whispered.

You saw the break in his resolve just a second before Azriel crashed his lips into yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you were stunned but as soon as you realized what was happening, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He moaned against your mouth, one of his hands sliding up the back of your neck into your hair as he deepened the kiss, so full of passion, so full of love.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, fire lit its course through your veins. Kissing Azriel was everything you had dreamed of and more. It felt perfect…it felt right. Like everything in the world had disappeared and it was just you and him.

His hard arousal pressed into your stomach and you gasped at the feeling. He used it as an opportunity to flick his tongue into your mouth, tasting you, with a groan. His other hand slid down to your waist and to the backside of your thigh. He lifted you with one arm as if you weighed nothing and placed you on the edge of your vanity. The bottles of lip oils, the pots of kohl, all clattered to the floor as it shook under you at his ferocity.

His hand slid back to your waist, yanking you closer to him as he pressed himself between your legs. You moaned into his kiss, electricity licking your skin. Azriel let out a growl at the noise you made, his lips pulling away to begin tracing kisses along your jaw, down your neck. You tossed your head to the side, granting him more access as one of your hands slipped into his hair.

His nose grazed the column of your neck as he took a deep inhale, soaking in the sweet smell of you. “Say it again. Tell me you want this.”

“I want this, Azriel,” you breathed out, panting. “I want you. Have me. I’m yours.”

He let out a low growl at your words and sank his teeth into your neck, at the spot of your pulse pounding. You gasped and his lips were on yours again. He let out an almost pained grunt, slipping his hand up your nightgown to grip the soft skin of your thigh. His hard length pressed against your clothed core and sent another wave of electricity up your body.

He groaned again, his grip on you tightening. His fingers were digging into your skin, his other fisting your hair so tightly it caused a small whimper to leave your lips. The pain and pleasure mixed together to create a feeling you wished would never end. But then Azriel grunted again, his hold on you so forceful, you couldn’t help but wince.

He pulled away from you with a pained groan. Your eyes shot open to see the male before you grimacing in pain. Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Azriel…Azriel, what’s wrong?”

His teeth clenched, the veins in his arms protruding like he was trying to fight against something. You slid off the vanity to stand, running a soothing hand down his arm. That only seemed to make things worse and he crumbled to the floor with another grunt of pain. His hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs as he pressed his forehead against them, cursing.

“Fuck,” he groaned in pain.

You knelt on the floor in front of him, grabbing his face with your hands. “Azriel, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

His hands covered your own and gently pried them off his face.

“This…is…why,” he managed to ground out through gritted teeth, “why we can’t do this.”

Your arms hung limp at your sides. “Azriel, I don’t understand. What’s happening?”

He let out a painful sigh and sat back on his haunches, lifting his shirt up. You stared at him in confusion before your eyes fell to his bare chest, tracing over the Illyrian tattoos that curled around until you noticed another, smaller tattoo. Not an Illyrian one. But a…bargain tattoo?

“Azriel? Is that a bargain tattoo?” you breathed out, bewildered. He nodded in answer. “I don’t get it. Why are you showing me that?”

“Your brother,” he grunted out.

“My brother what?” Your eyes flickered back and forth between his own, trying to understand.

“He forced us…”

He trailed off and your eyes darkened. “Forced you to what?”

“Me and Cassian,” he finally said, hanging his head down. “Years after, when you…when you finally matured, I think your brother saw the change in how I looked at you. I think he grew suspicious of my feelings towards you…and he didn’t like that, y/n. You were still just a kid to him…you’ll always be, Princess. And he made me and Cassian promise him that we would never touch you in that way, that anytime we touched you with less than innocent intentions, we would feel the pain of a thousand blades striking down on us.��

Your mouth dropped open, your eyes falling back to the tattoo on the side of his hip. At the Illyrian wings with a blade running down the center of them. Your brother had…What the fuck had your brother done?

“Cassian agreed without any hesitation, Princess,” Azriel continued, his voice full of sadness and regret. “And I knew if I didn’t, your brother’s suspicions would prove true. I knew he’d kick me to the curb, toss me out, if I didn’t. And I thought it was just a crush, something I could get over. So I agreed. But Gods, y/n, I’ve regretted that day ever since. Because it wasn’t just a crush. My feelings for you never went away. Which is why I tried to hide them in others.”

“I-I…” you choked out, unable to form words. This was the last thing you had expected. You knew your brother was protective over you…but to make his friends form an official bargain with him. “So you can’t touch me without…without…”

“Without feeling one of the worst pains I’ve ever known. He made you untouchable, y/n. To us. To me and Cass. It's why I tried to push you away, tried to make you think I wanted others. I couldn’t give you what you wanted, what I wanted.”

“There has to be a way to undo this, Az,” you whispered. “Maybe I can convince my brother to release you from it—”

“It doesn’t work like that, Princess, you know it doesn’t,” Azriel sighed. “Besides, he would never agree. If he knew I tried to touch you like I have tonight, he would sooner stick a dagger through my heart than ever allow you to be with me.”

“I will make him see how wrong he was for doing this, Azriel,” you said with conviction. “He was probably still traumatized by what happened to me…by what those males did to me. We just need to tell him how much we want to be together, how much—”

“It wouldn’t matter, y/n, don’t you see? Your brother might be the most powerful High Lord in Prythian, but even he cannot break bargain bonds. Even The King of Hybern needed to use the cauldron to do that.”

“I won’t accept this! I can’t, Azriel. Why should we have to! We want to be together and it's not fair that we can’t!”

“I know, Princess, I know,” Azriel grimaced. “And I’m so sorry for making that promise. I’m so sorry for dragging you into this. I should’ve left you alone. I shouldn’t have ever—”

“No, don’t say it. I refuse to believe this is it. I refuse to believe we just have to live always wanting each other and never having it. There has to be another way.”

“He did put one condition on it, one way to break the bargain. But…”

“But what? What is it?”

Azriel looked up at you, his hazel eyes filled with such longing it made your heart ache. “If we were mates…if the mating bond ever snapped between us, or between you and Cassian, the bargain would be completed.”

But nearly three hundred years had gone by since then and…and a mating bond had never snapped between you and Azriel.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

a/n: omgggg I hope this chapter didn't disappoint! But now we all know the bargain Az made with Rhys soooo it's gonna be fun to see how this all pans out ;) are they mates? or will we have to find some sneakyyyy way to be together? who knowssss ;)

Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @nightless @a-frog-with-a-laptop @woodland-mist @tothestarsandwhateverend @lizziesfirstwife @e-dollly @hyemishii @pricklepearbloom @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @bookishbroadwaybish @pinkangelskies @naturakaashi @sofietargaryen @minakay @alexboshallex @amysangel @i-am-infinite @furiousbooklover @glitterypirateduck @valencia-rou @pinkcowracing @marvelpotter @kennedy-brooke @stupidwingboy @foreverrandomwritings @marvelouslovely-barnes @persephonesong @furiousbooklover @dxjaaaa @kristeristerin @naturakaashi @starlightshowdown @torchbearerkyle @emme-looou @wiseheartzombie @moonlwghts @f4iry-bell @imnotsiriusyouare @val-writesstuff @saltedcoffeescotch @toxic-nathyyy @feiwelinchen @bookslut420 @awkwardnerd @mis-lil-red @exhaustedpotat0 @wallacewillow0773638 @elle4404 @bubybubsters @planetwaynez @kemillyfreitas @furiousbooklover @naturakaashi @marina468 @justbattlecriesdear

*if you asked to be tagged but don't see your username, tumblr probably won't let me add it for some dumb reason :((

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euno11a · 3 months

Text

Tattooed Hearts

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period

Edit: Hey guys, I got this idea for some reason and was thinking of making it into a series, so let me know if you enjoy it and want a part two :)

Pt II • Pt III • Pt IV • Pt V • Pt VI • Pt VII • Pt VIII

*** You weren’t one to put out, always waiting for the one person who made you feel special. But you never seemed to feel that, except for when you were with Jungkook. He made you special, he made you happy, he made you feel loved. Maybe giving yourself to him was your mistake, but how could you not? He looked so handsome with his piercings and tattoos. That’s where you should’ve known what you did was a mistake. Sleeping with him was never on your bucket list, sure you’d thought about it before, but you never intended for anything to actually happen. It felt good, it always did, but the pain of being pushed out always pained you after. Mistakes get made, but this one hurt too much.

Sobbing on the bathroom floor was something you’d never wanted to do when it came to a guy. But seeing him with that girl hurt, way too much. Why weren’t you used to this yet? It’s happened before, get used to it. “He doesn’t deserve your tears, Y/N, please stop crying…” Lindsay, your friend, pleaded. She’d been here when it first happened, the other hundred times it had happened, and now. Maybe you were the stupid one for never taking her advice. Now, you hated calling anything stupid, nothing was stupid. There was always reason for something being one way and not the other, but you were just stupid for how many times you’d fallen for his tricks. Tattoos make a story when on your skin, most of the time. The story behind your tattoo was that you’d fallen for a handsome tattoo artist, letting him sweep you off your feet, wine and dine you and then fuck you. Big mistake. It’s almost funny how many mistakes you’ve made with him. Going the day after to get your tattoo finished was not the happy ending you were expecting, instead finding a woman walk out of his office looking drunk off of sex. Just like you did. He apologized, wine and dined you, then fucked you again. The same thing happened. Something wasn’t clicking, stay away from him; he’s bad for you; he’s using you; all things you should’ve listened to, but didn’t. That was on you, you decided to keep going back and keep getting your heart broken. That was until now, countless nights of crying about him, going back to him, waiting for him to call and use you again, you were done.

Wiping your tears for the last time, you wouldn’t let this man or any man make you cry like that ever again. That was a promise. ***

“Are you ever gonna get that tattoo finished?” Lindsay asked as she placed the bowl of popcorn between you two. It was Wednesday night, your scheduled movie night. “I think it would look really cool actually completed.”

You placed some popcorn in your mouth, thinking for a moment, “I don’t know…I think it looks kinda cool now!” Placing the blanket over your legs, you looked at your shoulder, a half finished tattoo of a skeleton hand holding a rose.

“Girl, don’t lie, you need to get it finished. Please? I’ve been looking at it for so long, I can’t stand it anymore! How are you not annoyed it’s only half done?!” She was adamant about making you get it finished, partially because she wanted you to go back to rub it in Jungkook’s face how amazing you were and what he lost when he slummed it with those other women.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll get it finished, but you need to get me tteokbokki after, got it?” It was something you’d dreaded, but having the feeling inside that you’d let him win by not seeing him again was eating at you from the inside.

Lindsay squealed in joy, clapping her hands, “ I’m gonna make you so hot! He’s gonna regret sleeping with those other bitches!”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m going to get my tattoo finished, not see him. And don’t call them bitches! Women stick up for women, no matter how fucked up some might be.” Secretly, you were hoping to make him jealous or upset with how he left you. He deserved to feel like shit.

“Okay, okay, sorry…I’M GONNA GET MY HEELS!!” Lindsay yelled as she ran out of the living room to grab her heels from her room. I sighed, knowing that I couldn’t stop her.

***

A week later, you walked into the shop, seeing the familiar face of RM. He was one of the piercers that worked in the parlour, “Y/N, hey, it’s been a while!” He spoke with a big smile, happy to see you again. With the time you’d spent there before everything, you’d befriended his friends. It felt unfair leaving them behind after it all.

“Yeah, hi, how’ve you been?” Even though Jungkook was nowhere to be seen, you couldn’t help but feel a lump growing in your throat.

RM had a bright smile on his face, one that he’d always had that always managed to make your day better. “Good! I’ve been good, uh, how can I help you today?” He asked, standing up from behind the front desk.

“I want to get my tattoo finished. I think it’s finally time.” You gave him a small smile, he’d known about what happened between you and Jungkook. It was hard not to know, he was friends with him after all.

“Alright, we can do that! Let me see…V could take you.” He looked up from the computer, seeing what was open now. You nodded your head, willing to take anyone who wasn’t Jungkook.

They’d gotten you situated at a station, instructing you to take off your sweater. Your half finished tattoo was now on display, waiting to be finished. V was nice, making small talk here and there, making sure you were comfortable with everything and that nothing was too painful. Pain wasn’t your thing, yes, you had to go through a period every month and maybe one day give birth, but you had a low pain tolerance. He used to squeeze your thigh, kiss your neck, finger you to keep you calm…stop it! Don’t think about him! He’s not in your life anymore, don’t waste precious thinking space on him! Not thinking about the needle piercing your skin was abruptly stopped when you felt a prick, yelping, you moved your shoulder away. V looked at you with wide eyes, “ I’m sorry! Was that painful? Oh god, are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“No, no! It’s okay! I’m fine, just startled! Sorry, I zoned out for a moment…” You gave him a sheepish smile, relaxing in the chair again.

“That’s fine, just let me know if you need a break or anything, okay? Maybe I can sneak you a juice if you really want, too.” He gave you his signature boxy smile, instantly warming your heart.

You giggled, nodding your head, “That would be nice…” Smiling up at him, it felt nice to still be friendly with them even though you were nowhere close to being friendly with Jungkook.

V stood up, walking away to get you a juice from the break room. He left you in the chair, leaving you alone to listen to the music playing softly through the speakers. Quietly humming along, your thoughts were halted by hearing two voices. “Hey, RM, when’s my next client?”

“She should be here soon, it’s a touch up.” I could hear RM talk to the person. The other guy hummed, shuffling around a little.

You sat up, being faced with Jungkook. Everything seemed to go fuzzy, your thoughts, the sounds around you, even your eyesight. The lump in your throat returned, making it hard for you to breathe, V returned with your juice, “ I got you watermelon! You know? Since it’s your favourite!”

You were startled out of your trance, looking up at V who was holding your favourite juice. They still had it…? “Thanks…how do you-?”

You were cut off by V smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck. “We all thought you’d show up again…but when you didn’t, we kept the fridge stocked for whenever you decided to show up again.”

Heat rushed up to your cheeks, they’d waited for you? Why? His boxy smile came back again, looking over to Jungkook, waving “Hey, JK, lunch was good?”

“Yeah, it was fine. Pussy would’ve been better though.” Jungkook replied as if it were nothing, finally looking over to you. He faltered a little bit, quickly recovering by giving you a cocky smirk, “Glad to see you back, Y/N.”

Without another word, he walked away, back into his office. Biting the inside of your cheek, you knew this wasn’t the last time you’d see him. He was like a parasite, once you had it, it would never go away.

#bts #bts army #bangtan #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkookie #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader

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llyfrenfys · 4 months

Note

PLEASE TELL US ABOUT Y DDRAIG TRAWS!

Certainly! I'm more than happy to oblige.

First though I'm gonna need to tldr: the history of Y Ddraig Goch before we get onto the (accidentally) canonically trans part.

A brief history of Y Ddraig Goch:

(The modern Welsh flag)

Y Ddraig Goch first appears in the tales of the Mabinogi (Charlotte Guest version) in the tale of Lludd and Llefelys where it is fighting a white dragon. The fight is also described/expanded upon in the c. 829 AD text Historia Brittonum (attributed to Nennius) - where the red dragon represents Wales and the white dragon represents the Anglo-Saxons. In the story the red dragon triumphs over the white. Of course, Geoffrey of Monmouth also covers the story c. 1136 in Historia Regnum Brittaniae in which he introduces the concept of the red dragon heralding the arrival of King Arthur.

Geoffrey of Monmouth claims Arthur used a banner featuring a golden dragon. But we also know the accuracy of Monmouth can be questionable at times. Owain Glyndŵr did use a banner with a golden dragon called Y Ddraig Aur - raised in 1401 at Caernarfon - Glyndŵr chose this banner as a nod to the supposed banner of Arthur and his father.

Later on the Tudor monarchs (being a Welsh family) adopted a red dragon on a white and green background in their heraldry. Eventually Y Ddraig Goch on a white and green background became the official badge of Wales in 1800. The design became the official flag of Wales in 1959.

Y Ddraig Traws:

Now for the thing you're all here for -

So, as outlined, the history of the dragon as a national symbol of Wales goes back a long way. If we're just talking post-1959, there's some interesting implications for Y Ddraig Goch's depiction.

This is what the Welsh flag (and Y Ddraig Goch) looked like in 1959 when it was officially adopted as the flag of Wales. It looks broadly the same as the first flag and has some common features - such as not having a penis (or, as in the correct heraldic terminology - a pizzle). Meanwhile, in the arms of the Tudors (specifically Henry VII)

(Tudor dragon with pizzle) vs (dragon on the flag of Cardiff - pizzleless)

the penis is almost always included. So much to the point that the present royal family still includes the penis. While pretty much 0 depictions of the dragon in Wales include a penis. So you could interpret this as the dragon is seen as male only by the British royal family and as female everywhere else (which kinda implies that at some point the Tudor dragon had an mtf transition in Wales and she keeps getting misgendered by the royal family every time she is depicted in (mostly) England).

So much to the point that in 1995 this pound coin was made by the Royal Mint featuring the pizzle on the dragon with all four feet touching the ground as opposed to standing up (passant rather than rampant).

But in Wales you'd be hard pressed to see a pizzled dragon anywhere. Ergo, we can only conclude Y Ddraig Goch is trans and she transitioned in Wales and keeps getting misgendered in England.

[note: This is mostly tongue in cheek - but I do think it's fun to extrapolate that the Welsh dragon is trans because of the differences in depiction between Wales and England. Like many things Welsh, it is misrepresented by England and the idea of the Welsh dragon being misgendered only in England is, I think, a good metaphor for a whole lot of English treatment of Wales.]

Unrelatedly, there is a gay Welsh flag held at the National Museum of Wales which has a very wonky dragon which I find very endearing.

(cleaned up version I made)

So much so I made it an emoji in my Welsh bilingual LGBTQIA+ Discord (requirements for joining are - be 16+, either speak or are learning Welsh and identify as LGBTQIA+ in some way. Dm for link!).

(triaist ti 'you tried' emoji)

~ Completely unrelatedly ~ never forget the time someone was trying to homophobic to me by suggesting that I was disrespecting all the soldiers who died 'for the Welsh flag' by making it rainbow colours and not red - arguing that any change of colour of the dragon was disrespectful. Reader, my bus pass at the time for Mid Wales Travel had a purple dragon on it.

#cymraeg #welsh #cymblr #cwiar #trawsryweddol #traws #trans #trans dragon #y ddraig goch #welsh dragon #welsh history #dragons #wyverns #last tag because technically Owain's golden dragon is technically a wyvern

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inkskinned · 2 years

Text

i. about 2 weeks ago, i was told there's a good chance that in 5 or so years, i'll need a wheelchair.

ii. okay. i loved harry potter as a kid. i have a hypothesis about this to be honest - why people still kind of like it. it's that she got very lucky. she managed to make a cross-generational hit. it was something shared for both parents and kids. it was right at the start of a huge cultural shift from pre to post-internet. i genuinely think many people were just seeking community; not her writing. it was a nice shorthand to create connection. which is a long way of saying - she didn't build this legacy, we built it for her. she got lucky, just once. that's all.

iii. to be real with you, i still struggle with identifying as someone with a disability, which is wild, especially given the ways my life has changed. i always come up against internalized ableism and shame - convinced even right now that i'm faking it for attention. i passed out in a grocery store recently. i hit my head on the shelves while i went down.

iv. he raises his eyebrows while he sends me a look. her most recent new book has POTS featured in it. okay, i say. i already don't like where this is going. we both take another bite of ramen. it is a trait of the villain, he says. we both roll our eyes about it.

v. so one of the things about being nonbinary but previously super into harry potter is that i super hate jk rowling. but it is also not good for my mental health to regret any form of joy i engaged with as a kid. i can't punish my young self for being so into the books - it was a passion, and it was how i made most of my friends. everyone knew about it. i felt like everyone had my same joy, my same fixation. as a "weird kid", this sense of belonging resonated with me so loudly that i would have done anything to protect it.

vi. as a present, my parents once took me out of school to go see the second movie. it is an incredibly precious memory: my mom straight-up lying about a dentist appointment. us snickering and sneaking into the weekday matinee. within seven years of this experience, the internet would be a necessity to get my homework finished. the world had permanently changed. harry potter was a relic, a way any of us could hold onto something of the analog.

vii. by sheer luck, the year that i started figuring out the whole gender fluid thing was also the first year people started to point out that she might have some internalized biases. i remember tumblr before that; how often her name was treated as godhood. how harry potter was kind of a word synonymous for "nerdy but cool." i would walk out of that year tasting he/him and they/them; she would walk out snarling and snapping about it.

viii. when i teach older kids creative writing, i usually tell them - so, she did change the face of young adult fiction, there's no denying that. she had a lot more opportunities than many of us will - there were more publishing houses, less push for "virally" popular content creators. but beyond reading another book, we need to write more books. we need to uplift the voices of those who remain unrepresented. we need to push for an exposure to the bigotry baked into the publishing system. and i promise you: you can write better than she ever did. nothing she did was what was magical - it was the way that the community responded to it.

ix. i get home from ramen. three other people have screenshotted the POTS thing and sent it to me. can you fucking believe we're still hearing this shit from her when it's almost twenty-fucking-twenty-three. the villain is notably also popular on tumblr. i just think that's funny. this woman is a billionaire and she's mad that she can't control the opinions of some people on a dying blue site that makes no money. lady, and i mean this - get a fucking life.

x. i am sorry to the kid i was. maybe the kid you were too. none of us deserved to see something like this ruined. that thing used to be precious to me. and now - all those good times; measured into dust.

/// 9.6.2022 // FUCKING AGAIN, JK? Are you fucking kidding me?

#witches and wizards #kids need to be able to play games without knowing the extended universe #playing was easy #i knew i wasn't gonna be able to explain chronicles of christomancy #but we could pick up a stick and run around #nd say we were magic that would be enough backstory #and i think the last time i felt that sense of community #was the summer of pokemon go #it's about cross-generational connectivity bro #yes there are insular communtities but EVERYONE had fucking read harry potter #which is me saying - i think maybe people don't miss HER or the ACTUAL BOOK tbh #they miss... feeling connected #think about how so many people felt so weirdly ashamed and lost after Game of Thrones ended -#they did SUCH a bad job that the entire community just... vanished.#where beforehand people would have GoT weddings #we are just animals who love stories and love feeling like we speak the same language #btw i am not on twitter so i hadn't seen some of the shit she was doing #and then when i was 19 she published the ''american school'' hogwarts stuff #and was reading it casually bc again a huge nerd #and in it shes like ''the british taught the natives their more civilized magics''#and that was like..................... oh okay. okay. so.....

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 6 months

Text

NOBODY'S SON, NOBODY'S DAUGHTER (VI)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.0k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, creepy men, talks of death, weapons, toxic modeling standards, food issues, dead animals, talks about gore, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scars and mentions of intense medical procedures, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you.

Nikto stands in the bathroom connected to the library—at the very end of that train car-like set-up of your loft rooms. His fingers move to the straps of his Kevlar, peeling them off as the loud tearing sounds echo in his ears.

He can hear you stumbling about in your room, too. Getting ready for bed. Blinking, Nikto grunts as he thinks over your comment from when you first showed him around. He hadn’t been able to get it out of his head since you’d said it.

Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you.

The man’s vest is taken off, hitting the floor in a heap. Next follows the clips of his thigh holster, and the belt buckle in the loops of his pants. Each joins the pile with a slap of material.

“Brain damage,” Nikto grunts.

It wasn’t something he should be worrying about—in fact, it was at the very bottom of the long list of things that even mattered. First was your safety, then the identity of this pathetic individual who was infatuated with you. But it stuck with him nonetheless.

He’d never had to look after someone with this affliction before. The stumbling; the shakiness. But he’d gone through worse. Yet, at the same time, it was far larger than just his assignment. In his own way, Nikto was…appreciative that you seemed to at least listen to him most of the time. And you were easy to talk to.

There was a sort of kinship there, as well. In broken things. Maybe that was why he felt himself growing to you.

Striped down to nothing but his mask, the Russian glimpses himself in the mirror and stills. He was always struck by it.

How something could be so brutally ugly.

Scars ran so tightly over his skin that it was indented like a fissure in the earth. Pieces boldly sliced away and chunks missing. The muscled bulge of his stomach was cut up—thighs with such horrors as cigarette burns and the remnants of tattoos that were carved away like hog’s flesh. That’s what he was, Nikto knew. A hog tied to the ceiling and ready to be butchered.

He looked at himself now like he was through the lens of a movie, like the ones he would watch as a child—it was far away from him, the edges blurred as his reflection shifted; another being entirely.

A hand comes up—his hand—and it presses into the material of his mask, large fingers shifting over black coloring as the pale blue of his eyes stares back. None of it felt real. Nikto’s head tilts, but he does not feel the bones in his neck move, only the acknowledgment that they had to have.

The dark ink of the tattoo over his back peaks itself into existence, the starting of obsidian over his shoulders. Nikto shifts his top half as if seeing it for the first time, unblinking eyes taking in the visage of a snarling bear locking gazes with him. At the side of his left shoulder, the sigil of his old unit burnt his skin.

“New,” he utters, voice tiny and hoarse. “Gotten after.”

He already knew that…why was he repeating it like he had forgotten sitting in that tattoo shop’s chair? Nikto’s eyes clenched shut, hand coming back up to his masked head and pressing over it.

He was not beautiful, and no one would ever call him such. He didn’t want them to because it would always be a lie.

With a low growl, his fingers grip his mask and rip it off of his head.

The thing slaps against the marble of the counter, hitting with a hard clack of the coated synthetic fiber, sliding over the top until it hits the toothbrush cup and causes it to fall on its side.

Nikto can only stare at the person in the reflection as the sounds swirl in his ears—a world away.

There’s so little of him left that he recognizes that it scares him.

Grinding his jaw, Nikto’s pale eyes slip down the length of the damage. His dark hair is cut close to his head, strong bones in his nose and brow above the deep sockets of his eyes—the glare of black and blue bags gives way to his lack of sleep. The wideness of his cheeks leads to a sharp chin; a square face overall.

But the marks.

The hyperpigmentation.

Half of a Glasgow Smile peels the flesh back like a tear in paper, and a line is sliced staring at his right ear and curving in a half-circle down to his jaw. Into his hairline, three ragged cuts that had been very badly cauterized to stop him from bleeding out, the hair never able to grow back properly. His neck is the same—a red scar the size of his forearm wrapping from behind and crossing it, little slivers breaking out like a tributary.

He still wasn’t sure how he survived that one, but then again he hadn’t in the long run.

Nikto’s heart had stopped after all.

There’s a knocking at the door, and the man flinches violently—head twitching to the side.

“Nikto?” Your voice is muffled by the wooden barrier, and the Russian’s breath is ragged before he blinks away the distance in his expression. “...Are you alright in there?”

He clears his throat, feet shifting over the plush purple rug you had on the floor as his fingers twitch with tight nerves. But your voice distracts him, fractured brain slowly coming back into focus.

“We are fine,” his voice is harder than he intends. More snappy.

Nikto’s eyes find your shadow under the bottom of the door, your feet moving and re-setting as they usually do. He sees you pause.

“Alright,” your voice calls. “If you need anything, just ask me.”

He watches you stand there for a few seconds longer before your shadow moves back and disappears. Torn ears twitch to your receding weight, eyes beady like a feral dog’s.

Nikto’s bare body is frozen until he finds himself moving to turn on the water to the hottest setting, stepping into the stream with a hiss and a snap of teeth at the burn. He only turns it hotter. Thinking. Wondering.

Brain damage.

—

“I can never see color,” you say into the air bluntly, watching the man tie his shoes. He freezes. “Just thought you should know.”

Your eyes see Nikto blink, a silent moment passing between you two before he looks up slowly, brows pulled in and lids crinkled.

“...Что?”

Something swirls in his vision, a deep intrigue and another that’s harder to name. Hidden. Kept under lock.

“I can never see color,” your voice reiterates, trying to put on a show that the only reason you were saying this was because you wanted to—a sign of trust.

In reality, it was a stepping point.

A small test even if you felt your face heating—growing hotter by the second. “Same accident that caused my brain damage.” You smile softly, motioning a hand to your head. “Even if I find my soulmate, I won’t be able to tell. Weird, huh?”

It was two hours after your phone call with Yaromir and Galina, and there wasn’t much to dwell on from the two. You’d talked about DNA, Sergi, and why no one was taking your claims seriously.

All they chose to tell you was that they needed more to build a case off of. Galina was still trying to get DNA samples, and without that or a large break that gave you any idea about who could do this, you were in the dark. All they had was a partial fingerprint on one of the plastic bags.

Excuses were all you got by the very frustrating end, and your hope had dwindled on every pause over the line, your phone on the coffee table and Nikto watching silently as he placed breakfast in front of you with a firm hand. He’d been quiet today, even more so than usual. You’d even given him more tea last night, though the cup was once more washed and set back by morning.

And he was stiff too. Tense.

Today, you made a firm decision to go back to AMA—not because of your shift. You had no intention of staying in that building even if you knew you should; this was a quick visit. You needed to discuss a large gap in your schedule with the CEO, one that had only shown up in the small hours of this morning.

You really hoped the explanation wasn’t because you were being fried.

Nikto is still, watching every beat of your pulse and how your fingers play with themselves in front of you. His chest is frozen, eyes unblinking as the paleness of them is similar to a knife’s edge. In your internal fight, you hadn't noticed how long he’d just been watching you…dead to the world of the living. His gaze was so intense once you did realize, that you cleared your throat softly as an awkward uncomfortableness built on your expression.

Perhaps today wasn't the best time to test your theory.

The man’s fingers twitch, he stands up to his full height, and then moves into the elevator without a single sound.

Your heart gets stuck in your throat, blinking as you make a confused noise.

“Nikto?” You turn after him. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Calling, your feet shift over the rug of your entrance, seeing the void of white as he stands with his hands behind his back and his covered face diligently forward. No words. “I thought we were past the whole lack of speaking thing?”

A chill moves up your spine slowly, and it’s enough to hide away the reason you’d mentioned your affliction in the first place. He was…so stiff again. Enough so that you partially wondered how this person could be the same that had cooked you dinner last night and barked his feral laugh into the chilled air.

What had changed in one night?

Nikto’s eyes were more of a void than the blackness of his Kevlar.

Apprehensiveness growing, you move and grasp at your jacket with a twist to your lips, slipping it on softly. No sentences being spoken, you shift into the elevator and stay to the far left of him, taking out your keys from your purse and slipping them into the metal.

With a jolt, the thing begins moving slowly.

“Y’know,” you awkwardly laugh. “It would be nice if you responded. I just told you something important to me. I mean,” your anxiety makes you backtrack with a very fake laugh, eyes glancing to the side. He hadn’t moved; was just staring at the space ahead of him. “It’s obviously none of your business,” you wave a small hand, being sly in your word choice. “But I want to be transparent with you about everything going on, especially with how I don’t know if you see color or not. It’s a disadvantage on my part and I—”

“I see color.” Is the monotone, dead response.

I know that.

“Oh. Good,” you try to smile shakily, hand jerking as it hangs at your side with a low simmer of a pounding pulse. A shimmer of excitement runs through your spine. “That’s good, Nikto, I’m glad that you do. So, if you don’t mind me asking, who’s your s—”

A low growl. “I do not want to.”

Tension overtakes the small area and your wide eyes stare unabashedly in shock. All eagerness utterly ceases to exist.

“Excuse me?” You push out your utter confusion, shoulders moving higher.

Surely he didn’t mean he doesn’t want the gift of seeing color.

No one would ever say something like that. Ever. Even those who’ve gone through Soulmate Psychosis have never stated they didn't want to see the shades and hues of the leaves—the sky or the earth. How the clouds looked when the sun was getting low. Purples and blues, colors you’d only ever be able to try and understand knowing that it would be impossible.

And what did this mean for you? You’d been banking off a confession, but this wasn’t the kind you’d expected.

“It is useless to me,” Nikto avoids your gaze. “Неуместный.”

“I have to disagree,” you stutter, slightly shifting your body to tilt his way. The crafted plan in your head is thrown to the wind. “Nikto, we’re talking about color here. Soulmates. The…the person you’re supposed to be destined to be with—how can you say that? Don’t you remember how the world looked when it was all black and white?”

A low snarl echoes, pale eyes jerking your way as a head snaps.

“Достаточно!” You suck in a fast breath as the elevator dings, both of you arriving at the ground floor, doors rolling back to the open lobby. “We do not need you speaking to us on such things.” Nikto moves forward, your nose almost bumping into his chestpiece as the scent of rotten wood infects you. Your body takes down a swift breath, head snapping up to watch. “You know nothing!” His face is right above yours, looming, nearly bending your spine over. “Spoiled girl with pretty face—thinks she knows what she wants, yes?” The Russian scoffs, speaking low as your hands clench at the assumption. “Keep this to yourself.”

He turns and stalks away with a hostile grunt, leaving you blankly staring at where his face used to be, the image of his Kevlar mask burning in the back of your mind. A knife of hurt gradually takes place between your ribs, breeding until your lungs are ruthless in its clutch.

This wasn’t what you had expected.

Nikto glares at Isaak, who had watched with wide eyes and a loose jaw, and not moments later, the doorman quickly averts his gaze to stare at nothing on his desk. The Russian’s pulse is roaring inside of his breast, mind troubled.

Brain damage. Can’t see color.

Halfway to the parked car, Nikto’s mind returns to him and he slams his fast feet to a stop. Blinking, as if something in him had changed at that moment, a second of confusion leaked into his hidden expression as he said nothing. Waiting.

At the small, hesitant movement of shaky feet coming closer, his shoulders slowly tense.

You come up behind Nikto and shift past, taking the car door in your hand and opening it. Moving inside, you close the barrier to the chilled outside morning with a definitive slam. Darkness, for a moment, enshrouds you.

Face unyielding and pulled with guilt, you get a small queasiness in your stomach as the seconds pass in the vehicle.

Maybe you’d been too forward, but Nikto’s response had been…well, explosive. And his comments about color? Who in their right mind would say that?

“That makes no sense,” you whisper, hand coming up and rubbing at the scar on the back of your head. The one you dreamed would disappear in the small hours of the night as a teenager, remembering the beep of hospital machines and the plastic taste of the tube shoved down your throat.

Doesn’t want to see color? Your mouth sucks down a shaky breath. I’d trade anything for only three seconds.

The world outside of the windows is gray as Nikto pops the driver's side door open, bending low with a grunt before sitting into the seat. He doesn’t apologize as he shoves the keys into the ignition—starting the engine. The car rumbles to life.

Maybe you’d been too forward.

“You think?” You whisper to yourself under your breath, tearing your eyes away from the Russian man, grabbing and clicking in your seatbelt.

Socially, you had grace—were used to carrying it to those horrible parties and events. But talking about more personal matters was another thing entirely from work-life. From designer clothes and when they came out, shoes, and makeup. Sex and alcohol. Everyone at AMA speaks with vanity, and you were included. You knew you were beautiful, you’d been told and retold with every pluck from your eyebrows and spread of lipstick over your mouth; ruthless petting like a cat or a doll—there was never any doubt about that.

You could speak beauty, but you can’t speak about real love. Call you hopeless, but that was really all you ever wanted.

Love. Romance. Care and concern. It was addictive to you in every sense—and you just kept coming back for a hit of what you couldn’t have. You’d warned yourself after Yefim, but it hadn’t even taken a month before you had found another man to fixate on; the body of the previous stuck still in your nightmares.

But there was that sliver of something in your gut every time you stared at Nikto; something that didn’t add up. You weren’t deterred—weren’t put off. There was something deeper there that you just had to get to the bottom of first.

There had to be something he wasn’t telling you about why he can see color.

“If I upset you,” you ease out, tongue like lead and your eyes stuck outside the moving vehicle. Your hands tighten over your seatbelt in small intervals, for a moment mute of what to say. “I’m sorry, Nikto. I was just curious, I won’t pry into your personal matters again; you have my word. Just like talking about your mask.”

“Good,” Nikto’s hands flex over the wheel. It’s all he says, and even then it’s curt.

Small-like, you mutter, “Also…thanks for breakfast.”

It had been a small and incredibly healthy—buckwheat porridge. You’d eaten the entire thing with fruit on top and never even glanced at the yogurt in your fridge. The man’s eyes had been sneaking glances the entire time you had brought the spoon back to your mouth, but you weren’t sure if it was to make sure you were liking it, or if you were eating in general.

It was his job to hover, though.

Nikto doesn’t respond to your thanks, but his shoulders slightly loosen a bit, eyes blinking from the view of the mirror.

With a sigh, you keep your mouth shut and sit in silence for the rest of the ride, pulling at loose threads from your jacket pocket. Your fingers tap something firm from the inside, and you pause, blinking down at the dark fabric.

Your brows furrow, but whatever’s inside will have to wait, because Nikto pulls up to the sidewalk and parks the car with a huff. Like before, he opens your door when he’s outside.

“Your investigators will come for any package,” he explains as you shuffle and stand, fixing the collar of your coat and glancing his way. It’s like he hadn’t just snapped at you minutes ago—that numb sheet was over his head once more. “You will not take them.”

There seems to be a moment where he waits for confirmation, raising a brow into the cold air that you can only partially see.

You clear your throat and look away down the street.

“Sure,” you say.

…Had he really called me spoiled?

Nikto glares at you, jaw clenching under his mask. He looks you up and down quickly without moving his head, skin tight and scars pulling. Your words in the elevator had… aggravated him, even if he can’t pinpoint why.

You were messing with his head—and that is an already very broken thing. Yet…your questions weren’t pointless. He knew you’d ask them sooner or later, like a fox to a trap, it was only a matter of time.

He should have expected this, and while cruelty is his nature, he can’t be that to you. The Russian had snapped too violently in the lobby, and it wasn’t your fault. Even with moments of relative calm, he knew that to be fact. But Nikto was a brooding creature—he picked only between missions and guns to be his avatars. Emotions were a loser’s game, and he would not lose at anything so long as he was living. Nikto was a bloody victor holding the remnants of a fresh kill. Nikto was as much a bear as the one printed on his back.

Pale eyes close, a low snarl stuck in the back of his throat.

You blink at the arm that gets held out to you.

“Grab it,” the man doesn’t give away anything; his eyes are ahead and his voice is low like your ability to understand his sudden change.

Every five minutes this Russian was switching between anger and relative tolerance of you. Your brows lightly rise on your forehead, wrinkles forming on your flesh.

Your quivering hand raises and slots itself through his left arm softly, head tilting.

“As much as I appreciate it,” you speak as he helps you up the curb with a firm pull, side-eyeing you. “I can manage. I’ll ask if I can’t.” A tentative smile. “Last-minute mascara is most of what I trust you with besides the food.”

“There will be less of the former in our future.” He grunts as you shut the door behind you. “We have no plans to do such things.”

“You said that about cooking,” you tease, falling back into seamless flirting, trying to get the man who had cooked you supper back into his skin. “I didn’t know you’d be such an attentive roommate.”

Those light orbs stay pinned to you for a long moment, twisting in like a knife with only a glint in the circles of his blackened pupils.

There’s a click of the car locking, and the Russian is all but dragging you forward. Chuckling under your breath, you follow as well as you’re able through the front, feet only stumbling for a moment before you can lean your weight to the side and rely on Nikto to keep you straight. It helps, you admit, though he’s a bit more stiff than Aly.

Your hand rests on his bicep, fingers moving to spread over the hard material and sensing the sinews of his flesh writhe at the action. Nikto huffs under his breath, rolling his shoulders to dispel tension.

Your scent is wafting into his nose like he’d put his head into a tank of ambrosia—your perfume addling his senses, shaming him like a venomous snake being held by a dove.

By an angel.

“Останови это.”

You blink and turn to him, humming. “What was that, Nikto?”

The man is tense again, eyes snapping about as he pushes at the front door to AMA, your own nerves becoming apparent, yet, having your distraction here to pull you away from that.

“Nothing,” he monotones. “Where are we going.”

“Upstairs,” you sigh, walking past the front desk as the women look on in confusion when you don’t stop by. They hadn’t expected you to come in, apparently. It was your job. As you pass pictures and paintings in the hallways, you slowly begin to speak.

“What color is that one,” your finger points to the frame on the far left. It was a dark shade that moved into a lighter one—Ombré.

Nikto’s feet slow, his attention moving from ahead of you to the side for a fast flash. Gruffly, and feeling his chest tighten at the sensation of you freely touching him above the corrupted flesh, he responds in a clipped fashion. “Blue and Green.”

You hum lowly. “Light blue?”

“Нет. Light green to dark blue.”

“Oh.” You tilt your head at it as you pass, peeking over your shoulder. It wasn’t like you could really understand that, but…a small smile pulled at your lips as you turned back forward.

Nikto blinks at it from the corner of his vision, narrowing his eyelids momentarily like a wolf.

“... We do not understand the fascination with it,” he grumbles. “Color.”

“I don’t want to upset you,” your head shakes. “We don’t have to talk about it—”

“I do not like losing my temper at pointless discussion.” You’re interrupted, and you feel your lips part not at the behavior, but the tone at which he takes. A strange firmness that bleeds into conviction. “It was an…error in my judgments.”

It’s only when you steer him lightly to the right hallway to the elevator that your lips move into a smirk, leaning into him even more. Nikto’s eyes flash with surprise, darting down.

“Was that an apology, Big Guy?”

“No,” he scowls under his mask, but his body is gaining heat to it. “An observation of character.”

“I think you just apologized to me and don’t know how to admit it,” you move your face close to his just as he had to you in the penthouse, nose brushing the canvas of the lower half of his face covering. You hear his breath hitch, his large frame going still and yet not pulling away. Your matching feet continue to move.

He seems to lean closer, even, or was that just a trick of the light?

Your lips release a chuckle, your face begins to burn and your veins pump oxytocin that Aly would be intrigued to learn about.

You pull back after a bit too much staring into his eyes, saying breathlessly, “I’m more flattered that you think I’m pretty, Nikto.”

His large sigh is all you hear, hand releasing his arm for a moment to push the elevator’s button to the top floor of the building, chuckling under your breath.

Nikto grumbles but responds with nothing more than a twitch of his fingers when your heat leaves him, motioning his arm again when you come back over. The sudden lapse in your pressured fingers made his spine straighten.

Kliment Fedorov’s office floor is large—very large. It takes up the entire top of the building and his influence seeps down to the very bottom like blackened oil. You’d been here before, as well as seen it from video calls, and while you could have talked to your manager about the gap in your schedule, the fact was that the man was quitting on you.

Dead birds in plastic bags were a bit too much.

It left you only able to go to the top for any clarification until a new manager could be hired.

“When we’re in there,” you comment to Nikto, hand going back to touch him. The Russian blinks slowly, fighting how his body wants to sag. “It’s probably best if you don’t speak, okay?”

Pale eyes narrow, head tilting to the side.

You sigh at the movement, placating him with an explanation. “It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment, but Mr. Fedorov is,” your voice trails off. “He’s very lofty if you get what I mean.”

“Lofty?” Nikto prompts as the elevator continues to move upwards. He seems confused by the word in English.

Your free hand raises and gestures vaguely before you twist your lips and end on a simple, “Arrogant.”

“Ah, да,” the large man utters. “I am not a stranger to such, yes?”

It’s strange how the two of you can just slip past the small arguments that pop up—or, more of the one-sided breaking points and the prodding comments. His words didn’t bother you, and that was different; if your mother had snapped like that, it would be a different story entirely even if you, ultimately, would have let it pass like the rest.

“Do you really think I’m spoiled?”

But you did tend to linger on things.

Before there’s an answer from Nikto, who grunts under his breath, the main door opens with a small ding. Sharing a glance, you shake your head with a quirk of your lips and walk out with a tiny pull at his arm.

You lean and whisper, “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Nikto doesn’t like how his heart constricts like there’s a vice around it—eyes snapping back. He holds back a flinch.

From there it’s checking in with the secretary and being waved in by her hand, already talking to someone else on the phone and typing away on her computer. You hum under your breath, and Nikto feels your hand jerk. He glances over as the doors get closer, calmed down at least for now.

“You are worried.”

“Only a little,” you mutter, brushing down your jacket, feeling that bulge of something in the pocket.

“Do not be.” The masked man looks forward after studying the layout of the floor—where the emergency exit was and the most efficient places to take cover.

Easy for you to say, you huff. Nikto had a very stiff way of comforting people.

And then you’re knocking on the door, and a voice is telling you both to enter.

—

“Lovely Seraph!” The CEO’s bald head is as shiny as you remember it, and those fly-like eyes are beady enough to make it seem like they move through you instead of at you. “Welcome, come, sit!”

A hand is waved from behind a large mahogany desk, a round face nodding quickly as you smile although it’s not entirely real.

“Mr. Fedorov,” your voice is light and airy—a fake tone of elegance. It comes easily. “It’s so good to see you again. I hope everything is well?”

“Ah,” he laughs, Nikto helping to guide you along even if the room is sparsely decorated beyond potted plants and a large rug. “It is going well, my dear. Very well.”

Eyes slip down your body, past your modest clothes. Something moves behind Fedorov’s expression, shifting. Nikto is a firm brick beside you, only letting you leave when the chair is in front of you. You slide him a thankful glance and slip away, grasping the side of the seat and moving into it with little trouble.

“My dear, I hadn’t expected to see you in last year’s collection.” You blink, eyes darting down to stare at the shirt you wear—it isn’t anything fancy or eye-catching. But it was expensive.

“Oh,” stuttering a moment, you try to play off a suddenly tight laugh. “M-my apologies, Sir. It must have slipped my mind this morning—”

“I will send the newest to you, don’t fret,” Fedorov smirks. “We can’t have one of our best ladies wearing rags.”

A spike of anger levels itself at your throat like a knife, and Nikto, who had moved like a shadow to stand at the far wall with his hands behind his back, feels his pupils constrict.

“You don’t have to do that,” you clear your throat lightly, looking to your guard quickly. “I don’t need any more presents, Sir, I promise.”

“Nonsense.” Kliment dismisses you, splaying his hands from where they rest on the desk. “You’ll enjoy them. Very nice collection this year. My gift to you for your success here.” You shrivel in at his next comment. “Your last photoshoot was…just exquisite, my Dear. Those white tones look heavenly on you.”

Swallowing down saliva slowly, you shift your thighs and let your arms circle your waist, feeling naked as gray eyes move your frame.

But you can’t say anything.

“Thank you, Sir,” you push out tinily. Nikto’s temper flares from across the room, eyes sparking up in a deep display of rage. He goes to take a step forward, not even knowing what he’s going to do, but, as if sensing this, your eyes snap over and you level him with a mute command.

Nikto’s boots still, the heel only half raised.

You twitch your head in a fraction of a shake, and he’s settling back to the wall with a glare and a hard clench to his hands. A growl is trapped in his esophagus, and you’re surprised that Kliment hasn’t gone up in flames because of it.

“Of course!” Fedorov laughs. “I personally arranged your schedule. I know what’s best, hm?”

“I was here to ask about that, actually,” you try to move the subject on, feeling dirty as Nikto silently fumes. “The gap starting in two days? I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sure what that meant and I wanted to come in personally and ask.”

Fedorov’s expression sours, scowling. “Those investigators. Messing with my work—won’t let you come in, Seraph, see. Horrible people think we can’t put up with silly little boxes and mail.”

You shakily take an inhalation and chuckle, lips twisting down and eyes dead still.

Silly little boxes. What would he do if he got a box full of dead birds or a bomb? Then again, he never would—he’d have someone else open it for him.

The CEO continues with his hand moving to grab papers from his side, sliding them to you slowly as you look down at the material with curious eyes, seeing shiny gray signatures and large looping words. The realization is as rapid as a knife to the neck.

Party invitations.

Your heart drops, bones like steel inside of your flesh. The room is suddenly far too small.

Not this again. Fuck no, not this.

“I took the liberty of confirming your attendance since you can no longer be here all the time—you’ll be doing,” fly-eyes glint. “... crowdfunding, if you will. You remember what to do. You used to be our best seller for investments.”

“Sir…I,” you fight the bile in your throat, the world swirling. Not again. I tried so hard to get out of it. Fedorov doesn’t care.

“It will also get you out of the main city spotlight!” He smiles. “I’ve emailed you the bookings and hotels—clothes to be sent.” Arrogant lines on his face. “The dresses.”

Fedorov smiles as you stare blankly, lips slightly parted; your fingers curl in to try and stop the shaking.

“But!” You flinch at the loud exclamation, and this time, Nikto does take a step forward, hand brushing his Beretta without your knowledge. “That’s all I have for you today. The two days you have to yourself to pack and get ready, yes?”

What could you say to this?

You can’t say you won’t do it—you’d be out of a job and out of a stable income. Your mother would only say it was your fault, and that would be the extent of her help; with the stalker…you had to admit being away was the best, but doing parties again…

It made you want to shrivel up and die.

“If that’s what you think is best, Sir.” Fedorov shakes his head, chuckling and sending a layered smile that peels his skin.

“I do. I know what the company needs—and what it needs is you, my lovely Seraph. Our angel from the heavens,” he smirks vilely. “Sending us down precious money instead of bread. You’ll do well away from the building for a while. Let things cool down, you see.”

And thus it’s settled with a meaningful look and a passage of papers, your quivering hands taking them up, not missing this time, and trying not to strangle them in your palm.

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper, not at all thankful. Your mind already runs to times and dates—small talk and comments about your ailments. The explosion and the stalker are going to be hot topics. You would be mobbed.

But that was exactly what the man wanted.

“Quickly now, go home,” Fedorov motions. “Be safe—remember to limit your food, Seraph.” A glance is sent to your stomach. “Have you been following your diet?”

“We need to leave,” Nikto speaks up in a sharp bark. “Сейчас.”

You see the CEO look over quickly as if forgetting someone else was here when looking at you. His face moves into a hard sneer at the sight of the large man.

“And who is this?”

“Nikto,” you explain quickly. “He’s my—”

“Yes, Girl, I know who he is.” Kliment’s voice is low. “Keep him on a tighter leash. Dismissed.”

You nearly stumble when getting out of the chair.

A hand grabs at the small of your back, pushing you forward quickly, though not unkindly. Nikto’s face is rigid under his mask, lines hard and eyes narrowed. Over his shoulder, he throws a heated glance at the man at the desk, but all he does is smirk like a crocodile. If he were any lesser, he’d have no problem getting into Kliment’s face—Nikto knew the man would pose no challenge to him, he couldn’t even shine a light.

“Nikto,” you utter, putting a hand to his side.

The Russian re-focuses, attention returning.

Your feet skid, shoes slipping at the force he guides you along until you’re back out the door and walking back to the secretary. “Slow down.”

Immediately, Nikto’s hands leave you, and you come to a swift stop with a deep breath in your mouth. Hands out, you shake them for a moment and try to calm your heart.

“Thank you,” you say under your breath, hand moving to rub the back of your skull. “You, uh,” trying to lighten the suffocating air, you blink at his chest. “But I told you not to speak.”

“What was that?” He growls. “You let people speak like that to you?”

“It’s not that serious.” It wasn’t anything he could change. “He’s arrogant, I told you.”

“He’s—”

“Why do you care,” you stare at him, suddenly defensive. “It’s my job—just like yours, I can’t lose it.”

Pale eyes sizzle. “That is different.”

You laugh despite yourself. “It’s really not.” Shaking your head, you brush past him slowly, gaining back your senses. “Even if I want it to be, this is all I’ve got going for me.”

Shadows walk beside you, keeping a close eye as the secretary doesn’t look up from her work as you both pass. “It is causing you to be stalked, Whelp. It is not sane to stay.”

You’re silent at that, taking Nikto’s tactic of steel lips and a dead stare ahead.

Beauty was all you had. He could never understand that.

“We have two days.” Uttering in the elevator, you sigh. “Even if I don’t like it—it’ll get us away from AMA. That’s the most important part, and one that even I can’t argue with.”

You don’t want to go to the parties. Not even an ounce of you was eager for it. For what was expected.

Nikto’s hands go to grasp the top of his vest’s collar, hanging as he thinks. The Russian can’t snap at you for that, it was true. Getting away was good, but it meant he had to memorize more floor plans and re-learn routines. No matter, he could adapt if it came to that.

He hums to himself, blinking.

“Very well. That I agree with.” Nikto pauses. “But I do not like that man. Like…” he snarls, “bald snake.”

A shocked snort exits you, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. Silence settles for a bit between you two as you process everything. Your teeth bite at your lip, leaning toward him delicately.

“...I was thinking frog.”

Nikto’s eyes spark, looking down at you from behind the black smudge of his sockets.

“That is better.” He comments. “Да. Frog.” You both lock eyes and you feel your lips pull in a small smile, your face losing a sliver of that fear that moves in your DNA as of late. The truth comes out as vulnerability.

“...Do you think it’ll work?” Your question makes him stare, head tilting.

“What?”

“Leaving.” The elevator nears the ground floor. “Do you think it’ll stop him?”

Nikto had said he would never lie to you.

“I do not know,” he speaks slowly, feet shuffling as his shoulders roll. “Do you?”

“I don’t know if I need to worry about the stalker more,” you chuff without any amusement, “or the parties I have to go to.”

Curiosity moves in his pale orbs, swirling at your confession to him. Nikto stores it for later, humming as the door opens and he moves—sticking out an arm that you easily loop with your own.

He walks slower, now, lips open as he hesitates for a moment. As your face is far away, expression open to the world, the Russian eases out, “I do not think you are spoiled, yes? I should not have said such things about your character. Do not apologize to me for it.”

“Everyone loves apologies, Nikto,” you joke even as your heart swells—heat coming up your neck. “It’s human nature to believe you’re not in the wrong. There’s no need to—”

“I do not like when you apologize. So do not.” He walks you forward. “Stand your ground. Speak freely.”

“That usually hurts people’s feelings,” you state in an utterance.

It’s a good while before Nikto answers you, and when he does you glance over to find his eyes already looking at you—but the makeup is wrong, it isn’t as dead as they always seem to be.

They were nearly soft if that was even possible. Hidden behind a half-lidded layer of darkness. You blink, feet almost stumbling as you lean into his arm.

Tell me, your mind begs this beast. This monster who never shows a sliver of his face—who holds scars more numerous than you can even imagine. You don’t even know why you want him, and that scares you. Tell me I’m yours.

“Then those people are not worthy if they can not handle the truth,” Nikto grumbles, shifting his head away.

The connection is broken.

You focus on the way you hold his arm as you both walk past the front desk, taking the weight and heat of it in little by little until you have to hold back a shiver. Even stretching your fingers, you couldn’t grab around the entire thing—much like it would be fruitless to try with his thighs. Even his waist would be difficult.

So consumed in the thoughts of Nikto, slowly taking you over, you both walk past the front desk swiftly.

Only when you see the flash of a square object do you begin to slow—Nikto was having none of it.

“Do not.” His arm shifts out of yours, and you startle before his limb loops your waist, nearly stapling you to his side.

“I didn’t even move to it,” you huff, looking up at him, frown over your lips.

“You were thinking it,” he grumbles, pale eyes sliding like water over your face. “Stay.”

“Woof, woof,” you sarcastically utter.

You can feel the tension in him—in you.

And then you push open the front door, and the box is left on the counter without another glance.

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tastesousweet · 2 months

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (vii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : a little weed sure eases theses two up.

warnings : implications of sex & use of weed

mickey speaks : sorry this took a while to get out friends, hope u love it. also lowkey self inserting w the hawaii trip :P

THIS IS PART SEVEN GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

“OH, he’s obsessed!” andrea exclaims across the table, a wide smile smothered over her face.

it didn’t take long for asha to call you and begin debriefing her month-long europe trip to you, only for you to cut her short (because matt began knocking on the door, complaining about how long you’d taken to piss) and ask her to finish her tell-all over lunch. she of course agreed and texted you the location of her favorite ramen place along with: “tell your roomie andrea that she can come with i wanna see u bothhhh!”

she’s spent the last half hour detailing the total princess treatment she’d experienced from a guy she met at her stop in london. “yeah, too bad i won’t see him again,” she pouts.

“you didn’t get his phone number that entire time?” you ask, fiddling with the chopsticks in your hand.

“oh of course i did, i just won’t be using it,” asha laughs and tucks a piece of her dark curled hair behind her ear. “it was nice while it lasted but i’m definitely not trying to deal with the hassle that comes with dating anyone right now,” she shrugs.

“you’re so bad!” andrea shakes her head and giggles, "but you know what, i get it."

asha hides her laugh by guiding noodles towards her mouth.

your phone buzzes softly against the counter and lights up, showing off a new text message from your mom, but more importantly your lock screen wallpaper displaying a sleepy figaro on your chest.

asha squeals through her chews as you pick up your phone to decide whether you’ll confront or procrastinate the text message (that will most likely sour your mood). andrea’s eyes widen at the girl as asha finishes up and starts to explain, “who’s cat is that?!” her acrylic nail taps against the table.

“oh, it’s ours,” you peer over your phone, deciding you’d rather not answer your mom’s text (she's asking how degree-related job searching has been, again).

“what?!”

“oh yes, he's my babyyy,” andrea coos while unlocking her phone to show off the many photos, “his name is figaro-.”

asha swipes through the phone in awe, “and when the fuck did this happen?”

“like a few weeks ago, i wanna say…” you turn to look at andrea while trying to remember.

“i’m coming over way more now. oh my god.” she gushes over the many photos of the playful black kitten before returning andrea’s phone.

“please do, it felt like you were gone for so long.” you whine out the beg before taking another sip of the warm broth.

asha sighs (in a way that causes her lips to flutter a little), “i know, i miss hanging out with my friends!”

“and we miss you! your ass is always traveling somewhere we have to soak up all your LA time while we can,” you joke.

the two laugh along with you, “i think i’ll be here for a while…not until like, my birthday.” asha thinks through her schedule and her mouth widens at the thought of her birthday, “oh my god! i forgot to tell you- mostly because it’s kinda far out? so, the past four years i’ve hosted trips for my birthday in late november... and i want you two to come this year!”

your eyes widen in excitement and your mouth is full of noodles, keeping you from letting out the loud 'yes' you wanted to. so andrea answers for the both of you, “well of course, we’ll come!”

asha’s face can’t possibly be stretched further with happiness as she celebrates, “yay, this’ll be so fun! you’ll get to meet some of my girlfriends and f’course the boys will be there so you’ll know a few people already!”

“and where are we going?” you ask with big, curious eyes.

“hawaii!"

౨ৎ

a distinct berry shade drips over the room in full swoops as the leaving sun peeks through matt's curtains ever so gently. your lips are now almost the same shade of the woven fabric, especially after enduring matt's undying and bitter kisses.

you hear him breathe a soft laugh, finding your body's limp, laid-out position to be straight out of an erotic femme painting: right leg and arm stretched above and below you, left arm above your waist to cradle your tits, and left leg bent and falling over the opposing leg.

you turn your head when you recognize his return, whispering, "hey."

matt’s bed dips accordingly when he lowers himself next to you, fixated on your still-exposed silhouette that hosts a few deep hickeys (he’s recently taken a liking to giving you them, his ego gains a small ignition at the thought of him placing them only where he gets to see), rather than your observant eyes.

he finds one he’d kissed into the skin under your printed hello kitty, leaning closer to lick and suckle at it more. you squirm and push his head away with a whine of his name.

he chuckles and moves his hair from his face, “put some fuckin’ clothes on then.” he lays your sweatshirt and panties, he gathered on his way back to you, against your chest.

you lift yourself easily, though a sleepy yawn still makes its way to you as you fit into the hoodie. matt shifts himself to slouch against his headboard. you finish your redressing before moving yourself higher on his bed as well.

matt thinks your phone screen is severely bright and headache-inducing but he doesn't complain as he normally would, instead he's more focused on balancing his joint-rolling necessities atop his wife beater clad torso.

you pay no attention to him as you exchange texts with remi:

REMI - 6:43 PM

OMFG

REMI

this guy im friends w thinks i should set you up on a blind date with a guy he knows :D

REMI

HE JUST SHOWED ME A PIC AND ... fuck

REMI

PLS SAY YOULL DO IT

REMI

u deserve a nice date night

Y/N - 8:36 PM

hi WHATTT

Y/N

idk rem😭😭

REMI

ABOUT TIME U RESPONDED HELLO

REMI

rlly you dont wanna??

Y/N

ill have to think about it

you sigh while turning off your phone, moving your body to better face matt, who's hands work to add the potent plant into his detailed silver grinder. there's obviously no need for you to stay in his bed or hang around for any longer, but as of late you both aren't necessarily itching to kick the other out as soon as clothes are back on.

"i wanna learn," you declare as you sit up more, looking down at his slouched figure.

"to roll?" he asks pausing his smooth routine and licking over his lips expectantly.

"yeah," you move your hoodie’s long sleeve cuffs away from the lower half of your palm, showing him your dedication and anticipation.

matt smirks and continues to zip the plastic bag once more, shaking his head.

"what? why not, matt?" you pout.

“because i’m already good at it,” he shrugs, “you can smoke with me but you don’t have to be the one to roll.”

“‘kay, whatever. i’ll just get someone else to teach me then, like chris or lucas or somethin’” stretching as you collapse back onto his bed and bury your face in the crook of your arm. when matt does nothing to pull you out of your dramatic fit, you decide to mess with him further, grabbing his phone from its place near his thigh and rolling over so that you lie on the plush of your stomach.

you pretend to type (actually just tapping against his uncharacteristically soft lockscreen, displaying a vintage looking photo of a woman you’d only assume to be his mother) then putting the phone up to your ear, mimicking the ring with a burring noise in your throat. “hey lucas! yeah it's me, matt never gave me your number! i know. that is really selfish and unfair!” you nod along while staring at matt who thinks you look and sound so stupid that it’s kind of cute.

you twirl your hair and bite your lip, really getting into character, “you're right, he is the worst. he won’t even let me roll up with him! but that’s fine, i think i may just need someone more skilled and sexy like you to hel-”

matt taps your barely covered ass harder than he intends to, shocking you in the best way. “alright, stop fuckin’ around and pay attention ‘cause i’m not repeating myself,” he softly demands, gesturing you to sit up with his fingers.

"ow!" you rub at the spot and roll your eyes in faux irritation, fighting the urge to smile now that you've successfully recaptured matt's attention and can still feel the heat of his hand on your ass. you try to give yourself grace in moments like this but you can't help but reflect and feel a bit pathetic when having a crush on someone like matt.

matt, who would never take a relationship further than casual sex and unserious after-sex smoke sessions, especially not with you.

"shh. come here, bruh" he hushes you and you obey, shifting to sit next to him, reflecting his bent position. "'kay," he hands you the grinder, mumbling, "take a look," as he grabs one of the natural hemp rolling papers and places the packaging on his nightstand.

you open the silver lid gently, eyes widening slightly and impressed with the dollops of finely crushed weed laying in the container. "how much do you use?"

"all of it," your head practically snaps over to look at him and he sighs, "y/n, it's like half a gram."

you fight the urge to dip your index finger in the crowd of weed and move it around, "still looks like kind of a lot."

"well, it's not," he shakes his head and adjusts his shoulders. "now you're gonna take some in your fingers and place it in this paper," he taps your distracted arm with his hand to bring your attention to the rolling paper he has curled slightly around his thumb. as you begin to take a hold of some of the substance he warns, "and don't do too much at once- i don't need you spillin' any on us or my bed."

"you're such a diva," you huff and softly sprinkle the weed into the wrapper he's holding.

once it's full enough matt shows you how his fingers guide the paper and fold it into its proper joint shape. he moves his hand towards your mouth, "now you gotta lick and seal it." you inch closer, hesitantly peeking your tongue out just a little to lick at the small flap. "okay, you need more than that baby-ass lick. but don't over-do the spit 'cause that'll fuck it up too," he eyes your mouth when you expose more of your tongue, successfully sealing the joint (with matt's guidance).

he finishes off the end of the joint before presenting it to you, "voilà," matt fiddles with the joint in front of your face before you boldly grab it from his hands.

you immediately encourage him with a wave of your fingers, "gimme that lighter, please."

he's slightly impressed with your sudden confidence and adjusts himself (removing the remaining items from his lower stomach, including the lighter you ask for) and reaches over to light it for you.

matt's lip falls between his teeth due to natural anticipation. the sharp, orange hue sparks to life and you gain a shyness as he approaches the joint in your mouth with it. suddenly your fingers take it away from your mouth as you whisper, "wait, matt."

matt dramatically throws his arm down, "yeah?"

"i don't actually know how to do this," a smile spreads across your face when you see matt's mouth slightly ajar and eyes disengaged.

"seriously? you started talkin' like you've at least smoked a couple times."

you hold a laugh in, "well like, i wanna try it. you just have to tell me what to do..."

"inhale the shit," matt gestures his hands, "hold in your lungs, blow it out. it's simple as fuck," he points to your hand holding the joint, "let's see it."

you deadpan, "you're so unhelpful," you shake your head and place it back in your mouth, "just light me up."

he rolls his eyes as his hand moves back up to you, you lean into the flame and immediately inhale as it comes to life in your mouth.

matt just smirks from next to you, amused at your attempt. you focus on holding it in your lungs and close your eyes as you exhale. the smoke exits smoothly and surrounds your head, when you open your eyes you immediately look over to matt who laughs when he sees a cough brewing in your lungs. you push his shoulder just as you begin a small coughing fit.

he goes to grab the joint from your hand but you raise it away, finishing your cough and putting it back into your mouth to taste the odd plant flavor again.

matt's laugh is still there just died down, "who the fuck are you?! 'just light me up' and then here you go actin' like you own shit." he points a finger at you with his eyes big and playful.

you smirk sarcastically, and your eyes crinkle in the softest way, when you lean closer to him in response, blowing smoke in his face.

౨ৎ

"so why're nick and chris staying so late at the warehouse?" you ask and play with the strings of your hoodie.

matt draws lines across your inner thigh with his fingers, "it's nick's month to do inventory and chris bought some crazy wall art shit he had to finish setting up-"

"you're not gonna help them?"

"oh yeah sweetheart, i'll actually go there right now and help them out." his eyes are so dewy and red you find yourself excusing his annoying sarcasm and instead wanting to kiss him and his puffy eyelids and his flushed cheeks, especially when you're sat on top of him like this.

"still, they probably wanted you around," you explain.

"why do you care so much about shit that doesn't involve you? i left them and invited you over so you should be happy." his voice eases his delivery to not come across so harshly while his eyes squint a little.

"you're right, s'not really my place to have a take on y'all's dynamic." you shrug and feel as his hands stop running over your thighs and instead squeeze harshly as he looks in your eyes.

"mmm, thank you for telling me i'm right," he smiles and leans forward to give your jaw a kiss with his wet, pink lips, "say it again and i'll be fully hard."

"you're a dog," you laugh as he pulls away. "what'd you do today?" you whisper, ignoring the sensation that comes with him feeling up your lower half.

"guess." he blinks slowly.

"mmm... i don't know. you tattooed some people, fucked me, made fun of me, smoked..." you list off on each of your fingers.

he nods along as you list each, making different facial expressions depending on the task. "those are all definitely things i did.."

"did you eat?"

"i mean, yeah...ish." he rubs his eyes and his mouth begins to curve slightly, knowing your next sentiment well enough he could say it with you.

as if on queue, you prompt him with a question that tends to come up quite often when the two of you finish fucking, "can we get food?"

౨ৎ

the doorbell of matt's shared townhome rings through the house as the two of you giddily stand near the door, "3, 2, 1.." you count through giggles before opening the door and facing the young man dressed head to toe in papa johns gear.

"oh. my. god!" you exclaim in a ridiculous country accent, "baby come here, they sent a man to sell us insurance or somethin'!" you call out and pinch your eyebrows.

before the man can get a word in matt comes into frame, cowboy hat in tow and his mocking accent deeper yet identical to your own, "now who 'den sent you here to harass my woman? huh?" he holds a tooth pick in his mouth and squints his eyes. "and how much would i owe to have whatever you got in them boxes, son?" he points and you try not to laugh from behind him.

"uh, it's just a pizza delivery that was ordered to this address, sir..." he looks around, checking the numbers displayed next to the door once more.

you peek your head back in, "you know what, charles, it was probably little john, you know he's always orderin' that amy-zun and what not from that tablet!"

"mmm..." matt pretends to think and not laugh as he holds onto a fake belt around his black sweatpants, "my lady's right," he cracks a smile, "you know how the kids get," he tuts and gestures to the man again while pulling out his wallet, "i owe you?"

"only $12.57."

"right," matt grabs a few bills and whistles, "wife, come grab this box for little john would you?" he hands the money over as you reach for the pizza box, "keep the change, boy." he tilts his hat in dismissal and as soon as the door is shut matt's falling to the floor with laughter as you laugh and place the pizza box down, screaming about how close you are to pissing yourself.

౨ৎ

"asha told me about her birthday trip in november," you say, licking your lips of excess pizza sauce.

matt nods and swallows to respond while wiping his mouth, "yeah she does that shit every year."

you adjust yourself on the bed and grab another slice of the cheese pizza in between you two. "it sounds fun, i'm excited," you say before taking a bite.

"yeah, it's usually fun. usually." he laughs.

"meaning?"

"last year in mexico nick almost fist fought asha's boyfriend because he was bein' shitty to her on her birthday. it was a fuckin' brawl everyday of that trip, i swear."

"damn."

"yeah. but don't trip, asha's not letting anything ruin her birthday this time, she loves herself too much to do that." he rolls his eyes in endearment towards his friend.

"well, how about you? your birthday's next weekend.."

matt shakes his head and looks to the side for a moment, "we always struggle to figure out what we're doing for our birthday. the three of us wanna spend that time together but chris wants a party, nick wants a small get together with games, and i'd want a lowkey dinner or something."

"you could always do all of the ideas but on different days."

"that drags it too much, we'll most likely host a party like we did last year, chris will probably nag us enough to make us give up." matt shrugs and takes a bite of his slice.

"well, i'll be at whatever you decide to do," you smile.

"oh will you now?" his eyebrows lift for just a moment in humor.

"well duh."

"and who's inviting you? cause it won't be me," he smiles and stuffs his mouth again right as you push his shoulder and laugh off his bad joke.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list (ily):

@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash @st7rnioioss @blondiesjailer @cupidsword @nickmillersn1gf @sturnioloa @thinkingabkinkyshit101 @tcvazq @novasturniolo03 @imaslutforwhitemen @trinity2058 @taking-a-footnote-in-your-life @1horrormoviewhore1 @keira324 @st7rnioioss

@whicked-hazlatwhore @matthewsturnioloswifey @mayhem-72

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo x you

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elysiansparadise · 1 year

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Synastry Observations VII

🤎Mercury conjunct IC is a beautiful aspect that a couple can have. Both will love to talk about the past, their childhood and get to know each other deeply, expect to have long and deep talks. They will be very curious to know the core of their special person, to know even the smallest detail of their heart and they will easily remember everything the other tells them. They will be confidants, best friends, lovers and a safe place in which they will feel safe to discuss issues that others would consider intense or very deep. It seems that they can read each other's minds and they will understand each other perfectly without using a single word. They will be very aware of each other and will always take their emotions and needs into account.

🤎When there’s a Lilith-Mars aspect, it shows a power couple, they stand out for being very ambitious and being each other's partner in crime, there is nothing that this couple cannot achieve. They empower each other and when they are together they feel more confident, more attractive and more capable of facing whatever comes their way. The sex between them is fascinating, passionate and a unique and intense experience, both take the other to new worlds of pleasure and satisfy each other like no other person ever could. Much sexual affinity and desire for the other from the beginning.

🤎Since we talked about Vesta recently, when the North Node-Vesta conjunction is present, it usually indicates that both can bring the other closer to their passions or discover a deeper side of life, they seem to help the other person find a purpose and have a more unique and own vision of life. Vesta person can bring passion to their partner's life and the idea that there are still people you can trust, unconditional and very supportive people. While North Node person can help their partner to focus their passions and realize their potential either in their talents or as a person. They both support each other whenever they can and are happy to have the other in their lives.

🤎Do you want to know what was the first impression of another person when they met you? See which of their houses your MC falls into. Remembering what I have always said, first impressions are ruled by the MC, and the person who always feels the effect of an overlay is the house person. I've noticed that when your MC falls into an Earth house of someone there can be vibes that the person is out of your league.

🤎If your Moon falls in your partner's 6th house, they can see you as a great support in their life, as someone very faithful and reliable. In the same way, they may think that it is difficult for you to open up emotionally and that you can demand a lot of yourself. They may find the way you care about them and their well-being sweet, and they will love getting to know your more emotional and caring side. They will greatly admire your altruism and the delicacy with which you treat both them and other people. They will see you as a strong person who has been through a lot of hard things in life and is going strong. Deep down they can intuit that your emotions are intense and that can attract their attention a lot.

🤎When there is a Uranus-Moon aspect, it indicates that this relationship will be something totally new for you, something very different from the old relationships you had. Uranus person will help your partner to get out of the routine and will bring new things to this person's life, new sensations, new activities and new airs. Moon person will give you stability and the confidence to open up to your partner, a lot of sweetness, support and warmth. These relationships usually start as friendship, like a lighthearted relationship in which they know many things about the other and have fun like never before, but gradually progresses to a slightly more romantic taste, but it doesn't matter if they become a couple, the touch of friendship will continue to be present.

🤎The sextile between Mercury-Mercury facilitates understanding, however different they may seem at first glance, they may have similar opinions and ways of seeing things. The conversations are fluid and something that arises harmoniously, without anything feeling forced or without those awkward silences. They can enjoy spending time together and doing activities that the other has not done that they mostly end up liking.

🤎The opposition between Moon-Venus is an aspect that might seem tense, but it can be the start of something very nice indeed. Both can show the other things or forms of affection that the other did not know or was not used to, but that will undoubtedly make them feel better, comfortable and happy. There is a lot of sweetness, but both are aware of the differences they may have with respect to the other, they will always try to approach these differences with respect, they will be very understanding with the other, especially if they want to take things slowly. A common aspect in slowburn, because they really take the time to understand and be fascinated by what makes the other different from them.

🤎If your Moon falls in your partner's 5th house, you will make them feel like a child again. They may feel that their life is happier when you are around. You will teach them to take things a little more lightly and help them have a good time. You will evoke in them the most emotional and expressive side even if they do not see themselves that way. You can inspire them a lot if they are into art and are likely to dedicate songs to you. They see you as a fun, warm and expressive person, but above all, honest with what you feel. They can feel that you are very transparent with what you feel and they love that. They find you charming and charismatic.

🤎Your Saturn falling in their 7th house will make them see you as someone who takes relationships seriously, as a committed person looking for something long term. On many occasions this overlay shows that the other person knew that they could have a stable and lasting relationship with you. They see you as a partner who, although somewhat serious at the beginning, gives them stability and a favorable opinion regarding long-term relationships. You give them that trust and feeling of reliability that they could never have.

🤎Venus trine or sextile Chiron causes this healing through love. Both will be filled with affection and will understand any emotion that the other person feels. They will love each other through thick and thin and seek to support each other to get ahead. Venus person will accompany Chiron person whenever he needs it, without falling into savior complex attitudes, all from a healthy perspective. Venus person will tell Chiron person how proud they are of them and give them a very pure and unconditional love. Chiron person will love every part of their partner, both physically and emotionally, they will speak well of them and support them in whatever is in their power, they can help them have more self-esteem and self-acceptance.

🤎The harmonious aspects between Vesta-Saturn give a lot of devotion to the couple, both work hard for and for the relationship and will always respect their partner. Both will fully trust each other and seek to keep any promises they make, they will support each other even when things are difficult and they will seek to solve any inconvenience that arises. The passion will be lasting and can improve a lot over time, they will not do things without the consent of their partner and they will respect all the boundaries of their beloved. They may think of marriage prematurely but take the time to see how the relationship continues to develop. They may want to have the other person in their life regardless of whatever.

🤎Lilith-Venus aspects generate a fun, hot and very flirtatious dynamic. They will both love to tease each other, they will stare into each other's eyes feeling that burning in their hearts and those hypnotizing effects that they have for the other. Lilith person will be amazed by the beauty of their partner from the beginning, they will fantasize about the idea of being loved and desired by the other person with the same intensity that they do, they will be attentive to the other and pay special attention to what they say and makes your person special. Venus person on the other hand, fascinated by the appeal of their partner, they will find them irresistible and appealing, as well as mysterious and complex, they will be intensely attracted to them and they will love to have their attention and love all to themselves. Both parties will be protective of each other, there will be a lot of attraction from the first meeting and this will not stop over time, it will get bigger and bigger. If the aspect is tense, there may be some jealousy.

🤎If your Rising falls in their 4th house they may see you as a very trustworthy person from the start and in fact it may be very easy for them to open up to you. You will give them a sense of familiarity even without your realizing it, they will not feel judged by you and they will feel understood and "finally at home". They will see you as a person who is looking for things in the long term, someone who takes themselves and others seriously, but above all as a very careful person and attentive to the needs of others, to their needs.

🤎When Chiron aspects their 7th house cusp or falls in their 7th house, it can indicate that you can heal their vision of love, marriage, or relationships in general. Both may have the same fears in love [of infidelity, premature divorce or any type of representation of betrayal], but they may see in you that you are different from everything that torments them in relationships, that you are different from those that they betrayed or lied to them.

🤎If your Venus falls in their 7th house they will find your company charming, they will really like having you around... maybe they will like it too much. You will have them thinking about romance, weddings, love and you will bring out their cheesiest side in such a way that they will look unrecognizable not only to themselves, but also to others. They can see you as a person with whom to have a wonderful serious relationship, a dream come true and above all they will see you as an incredible couple, someone who matches each of their boxes.

🤎When Mars opposites Mars, it shows a relationship with a lot of sexual chemistry, both motivate the other easily and sexually they can understand each other quite well. However, there may be difficulties in agreeing on their day-to-day activities, as they will do things very differently from each other. This can be balanced if Saturn or Venus makes positive aspects with Mars, favoring those who understand each other or at least try to understand each other. This relationship can be favorable if both people are patient and do not want to dominate the other.

🤎When there is an aspect between Saturn-Rising, both can motivate each other to grow as people and continue to improve either personally or academically / at work. They will feel that they must be the best version of themselves and this relationship can bring a lot of maturity and growth to both of them. They will see the other person as very centered, stable, and as someone not to be immature with. They will learn to take themselves and life more seriously. They can be very meaningful to each other regardless of the passage of time.

🤎Venus-Jupiter conjunction, a couple whose love is not only evident to themselves, it is evident to the whole world, it is the classic couple who, before being a couple, were mistaken for one. There was always a romantic tension between them, because no matter how moody or distant they may be with others, between them they were light, joy, love and fantasy. They bring out the best in each other and enjoy spending time with each other, because they not only like each other's physique, they love their way of seeing life, their values and their sense of humor, they seem to be aligned and have been destined to meet. Detailed with the other, loving and always supporting and advising the other.

🤎The couple that has a Mercury trine Pluto in synastry will always be fascinated and intrigued by their partner's way of thinking, delighted to know what goes on in that mind that they like so much. There will be many existential conversations between the two, they will talk until night falls about the past, about good and not so good things that have happened to them, and about any topic that crosses their minds, since trust is the strongest foundation on which the relationship will be built. They will find what the other has to say or think very interesting and they will seek to consult the opinion of the other when they can. Both may have a sense of humor not suitable for the sensitive and they will enjoy sharing it with the other, as they will complement each other just fine.

🤎Your Jupiter falling in your partner's 11th house will help them to have a more positive vision of the future and motivate them to go after their goals and those things that they only see as dreams or desires. You will fill them with energy and bring into their lives positive perspectives that will change their perception of themselves and their potential. Likewise, thier friends may really like you or at least have a positive opinion of you. You can encourage your partner to be more open and connect with lots of nice people in your own circle.

#synastry astrology #synastry observations #synastry notes #synastry #astrology #astro content #astrology notes #astrology observations #astro notes #astro observations

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bunbunsa · 1 month

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What does your future spouse look like? — a pick-a-pile Tarot reading ❀

Pinned | Ko-Fi | Other Collective Readings

Non-gendered. Take what resonates, leave what doesn't. There are three piles to choose from:

Pile 1

This person could be around the age of 20-30 when you meet. They have a youthful appearance. They have rather “gentle” facial features and long dark blonde hair. Their eye color could be green. They always look somewhat calm and composed, and their gaze is almost enthralling but soft.

They probably exercise or did it in the past—they seem to care about their physique. They could be 5’2 or 5’5 in height. I feel like their fingers are long. They might wear flowery patterns from time to time and do various hairstyles. They have a small nose.

Cards: Page of Pentacles, The Empress, IV of Swords.

Pile 2

This person could be around the age of 26-40 when you meet. They have blonde hair and seem rather stern at first. They could be 5’7-5’9 in height and have brown eyes. They usually wear more elegant clothing, probably because of their job or because they simply like to appear more “serious” and “official”.

When you get to know them better, you'll notice the gentler and graceful side of their looks. They might have thin eyebrows, a straight nose, and full lips.

Cards: X of Wands, Page of Cups, High Priestess.

Pile 3

This person could be around the age of 28-48 when you meet. They seem to have more mature and/or stern looks. They have long brown or red hair, probably with a few grey ones from stress already. They could be 5’6-5’11 in height and have brown or green eyes.

They don't care about their clothing and how people will see them because of it that much. I think that they like to dress up, cosplay, or play in the theater. They might have a “roman” nose and heavy lower lip. They wear a lot of jewelry.

Cards: King of Pentacles, IV of Pentacles, VII of Cups.

#divider by v6que #tarotblr #free tarot #tarot reading #tarot #divination #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #collective reading #pick a pile #love tarot spread #love tarot free #love tarot reading #love tarot #tarot community

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kookslastbutton · 8 months

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Too Late To Dream ༓ jjk (m) I Ch. VIII (final)

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 8,618

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), first kiss, painting date, taehyung makes oc a busi proposal, jk goes back to teaching at uni, cute note, therapy with therapist!hoseok, talk of absent parents, insecurities, fear of fatherhood, jk working through personal struggles and gets clarity, jk being good hubby to oc, sexual content

sexually explicit warnings: switch!jungkook, switch!reader, f*ngering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex (be safe everyone!), cussing d*rty talk, penetration, b**b sucking, biting, multiple org*sms, m*ssionary;legs on shoulder, body worshipping, praise kink, impreg kink, slight lactation kink, making out in the kitchen, suggestive morning shower s*x, Kook just wanna please oc really 🥺

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: This is now the most I have ever written....ngl the therapy section will be DENSE( but i tried not to make it TOO long) 😪 anyway, we have come to the end folks 😭 thank you to all of you who have stayed with me through this whole series. It's close to my heart and always will be. I'm happy to be able to share this with you all 💞

<< ch. VII ༓┃series masterlist

Kissing you is his favorite pastime. On the lips, on your cheeks, neck–everywhere and anywhere you'll let him. He loves how squeamish it makes you. Out of all the times Jungkook's kissed you, his favorite will always be the first time in that tiny art studio of yours at your old apartment.

You didn't have much living space but you made do with what you had. And what you had was one extra room near the laundry machines.

He'll always remember how gentle your lips were against his that night. Warm as well, yet reserved. You made his whole body come to life in the most unexplainable ways.

4 years ago–

Jungkook slouches on the stool with a pout on his face and a paintbrush spinning between his fingers. This is the third time he's called you over in the last ten minutes. You've told him repeatedly that painting takes patience but it doesn't seem to make him feel any better about his artwork.

"Can you come look at this __? I don't think this is coming out the way it's supposed to be."

"Here," you set your drawing pencils on your own art desk and circle around to him, "let me see."

Jungkook scootches his stool to the side, allowing you to peer over his shoulder.

"To start, you’re using too much water if your paper is peeling and curling this much. I'd give it a few minutes before doing anything more on it. Secondly, you have water bubbles."

You reach for the blue painting sponge next to him and hold it up as if showcasing it off.

"This is going to be your best friend. It absorbs liquid so if you gently dab areas with excess water, it'll take all that water away." You demonstrate for him then hand the sponge to him. "Give it a try."

"Okay…" He takes it from you and mirrors your movements. "Isn't this called watercolor painting though? How can I be using too much water?"

You shrug. "Because it's like anything. You need to find the right balance between the paint and water or else it'll make your strokes messy. Control the need to soak your brush."

"But I like soaking my brush," he says, tongue in cheek.

"I'm going to ignore that you said that."

"You said it first."

"Not like you meant it, I didn't."

Jungkook smiles and continues dabbing his painting.

"You're pressing a little too hard Kook. The paint's smudging," you warn as he attempts to clean up the extra water spillage.

"Hm?" He doesn't seem to understand what you mean.

"It's like this," you say, carefully closing a hand over his knuckles. Jungkook's hand goes limp in yours as you guide his movements across the water bubbles. "See, the water's gone now."

When you gaze down at him, he's not paying attention to the artwork at all but to you instead.

"Someone I'm hoping to call my girlfriend soon," he mumbles back and you release your hold from his hand.

"Jungkook?" He feels you tense under his stare, eyes restlessly shifting back and forth. "What are you looking at?"

"Oh, well, um—" your mind races with what to respond. Up until now, you’ve been seeing each other for a month but no labels have been placed on your relationship yet.

"I'd really like to know what it'd be like to kiss you too.” He sets the sponge on the table and slowly leans forward to rise from his seat.

Naturally, you step backward but forget about the second art table set up directly behind you. Your hands grip the edges at the sudden contact on your backside.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I don't mean to make you feel pressured." His fingers reach out to lightly rest on your trembling hands. “I’ve just been having the best time getting to know you this past month and I’d like it if we could keep going out…as a couple.”

“I’d like that too.” You swallow thickly. “I think you caught me off guard but yeah, let’s make this official. And also, if you want, we can—kiss."

"Are you sure?" He needs to know he heard right, careful not to jump the gun. “Really sure?”

"Yes. Please kiss me.”

With your consent, Jungkook grips your hands tighter and closes his mouth over your lips. They're sweet and taste a bit like peppermint from the candy you ate earlier. He moves slowly at first, tongue swiping across the seam of your lips every now and then until you let him in.

"Jung–" you breathe a small moan yet it's only when you break apart that you're able to finish saying his name. “–Kook.”

"I liked that," he says, a smile on his face. "Any chance we can do it again?"

You nod and lean forward to kiss him again. This time firmer, holding back nothing.

Present–

"Honey, you should go back to bed for a bit. Get some more sleep." You watch your husband button up his navy blue dress shirt in the mirror. Today's the day he has to return to the university for the new academic year and he needs to be out the door within the next ten minutes.

"I have to get used to you leaving before me," you yawn. "I'll miss you."

Jungkook runs his fingers through his damp hair, fluffing it up some before striding over to your lounged position on the bed.

"Me too. I'm going to be thinking of you all day." He bends down to peck your lips. When he does, you take in the scent of his aftershave–Old Spice. "I'll see you when we get home, okay?"

You nod. "You home at 4 tonight?"

"Plus traffic so 4:30 at the latest.”

"Okay, I should get home at 5:15. Mondays are a bit hectic so it might be later. I'll text you."

He gives you another kiss, longer than the last, and you moan lazily.

"Sounds good," he stands up straight and snatches his phone from the nightstand. "I need to head out now but I'll see you later. Love you!"

Jungkook opens your bedroom door and you shut your eyes to get more sleep before having to start the daily grind yourself.

With about thirty minutes to spare Jungkook rushes to his office with his leather satchel. He doesn't remember the room being as bare as it is when he tosses the door open–only his desk, PhD, and some books left on the shelf. He hasn't been here since the end of June so granted, I'd be pretty dead in the room.

But there's not even one photo of you.

That's going to be the first thing to change, he mentally

notes. Right now, however, he needs to prep for his lecture that’s in—he checks his watch—shit.

Twenty-eight minutes.

Jungkook shoves his satchel on the bulky mahogany desk and swivels into his office chair. "Damn," he curses and re-adjusts in his seat. "Since when was my chair this uncomfortable to sit in?'

He shakes it off and pulls out his notes. A tiny blue sticky note falls out as he sorts the mix.

'Deep breaths today Dr. Jeon ;)! It's your first day again and I know you're always so hard on yourself :( But your new students will love you I'm sure. So keep yourself in good spirits and remember I'm only a phone call away. I love you and I can't wait to hear about your day when you get home tonight! <3'

He reads the message again, then again, and one last time for good measure.

Jungkook sticks the note on the surface of his desk, next to his computer where he can view it easily. He then goes back to reviewing his notes for his lecture, feeling a giggle creep up his throat; he really fricken' loves you.

Well, his first class of the day was a complete disaster. The first twenty minutes consisted of him having to troubleshoot technical errors between his laptop and the projector. His students weren’t chipper either, preferring silence when he tried striking up a conversation. And the worst part? They didn’t laugh at his jokes! Like at all. Usually, he’d at least get one or two chuckles, even if they were merely out of politeness.

It was when he ended the class half an hour early that he earned a few brownie points. Thankfully he’s not a lecture on the first day kind of professor. Still, with any luck, the semester will get better and the remainder of his sections today will be smoother.

"Dr. Jeon," a low voice rumbles down the hallway as Jungkook returns to his office. He whips his head to his left to see Taehyung taking long strides towards him.

"Dr. Kim," Jungkook responds to the greeting. "What are you doing in the School of Business?"

"Just wanted to stop and say hi. I got a studio art class to teach soon but thought I'd check in with my favorite economist first.” Taehyung stuffs his hands in the pockets of his silk trousers and follows Jungkook into his office.

"My wife isn't here Tae," Jungkook teases.

“Isn’t it about time you drop that? Yes, we had a thing back in—"

"It wasn't a thing okay?" Jungkook is eager to correct. Being reminded that his wife and best friend used to hit it off a little too well back in the day makes him queasy. "It was you who kept being obsessed with her. Well, she's mine now. Understand?"

Taehyung laughs. "You need to chill Jungkook. I see the wedding ring loud and clear. Besides, I didn't come here for her alright?" He pauses and wets his lips. "Well actually…there is something I'd like to bring up to you that may involve her."

"Oh, what?" Jungkook's ears are on high alert. What could Taehyung possibly need from you?

"How often is __ painting these days?" Taehyung takes a seat in one of the spare chairs in the room.

"She doesn't have as much time these days due to work, but I know she's got a couple of art projects in the process."

"She's got a pretty big collection though, doesn’t she? Has she ever considered showcasing them off at galleries or selling to collectors?”

“Yeah, I’d say she has roughly eighty finished pieces between drawings and paintings. But she's tried the gallery route before and they've all rejected her work from being showcased. I don't think she wants to pursue it anymore. And as far as selling? Don't think so."

"Hmm." Taehyung taps his fingers on the armrest. "What if it were to be my art gallery? Over the summer I managed to form a minor partnership with that local gallery downtown. Remember, the one I displayed work at years ago when __ was in postgrad? Took a visit down there weeks ago and found out the owner is running low on funds. He's had my art displayed for a while now and I've always wanted to own a gallery. I've no shortage of assets either so I'm taking the plunge to keep it open.”

Jungkook quirks his head to the side with an open mouth and eyes wide as saucers. “You're really part owner of that gallery now? Wow, Tae. I always knew you were a free spirit but damn that's an investment."

"I guess, but hey now that you know. We're looking to expand our collection so how would your cute wife like to show her work? __ is a phenomenal artist and it’s a shame she hasn’t had the opportunity to have it publicly admired. I’d see that her work be approved immediately, of course."

“You're joking,” Jungkook sputters in disbelief. He can't speak for you but he's pretty darn sure you’re going to be absolutely tickled about this.

"I'm being completely serious. Talk to __ about it and see what she thinks." Taehyung checks the time on his phone and stands up from his chair. "Hate to cut this short but I got that class in ten. Let me know what she decides though."

"Yeah, I'll ask her. I—thank you Taehyung. I'm not sure what else to say."

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m happy to do this for her. For you both actually.” Taehyung leaves with a tight-lipped smile, a pep in his step.

Bzzz. Bzzz.

Hobi: Hey, sorry for the late reply. Had a couple of last-minute patients to see. I’m happy to hear from you though! If you want to come in for a session I have a slot free late Thursday evening. Other than that we may need to do it next week since I have a pretty full schedule this week.

Oh, that’s right. Jungkook reads over the text. He messaged Hoseok about possibly coming in for a therapy session last night. After telling you about both his apprehension and interest in starting a family, he thinks it is best to get some professional input. And what better person to ask than one of his long-time friends?

JK: I’d really like to meet before I get loaded with papers and tests to grade, if possible. How late on Thursday? I get out of work at 4.

Hobi: I understand. Can you come right after work? Sessions last around forty minutes to an hour.

JK: Sure, I don’t think I have anything to do after that. __ will still be at work. She knows I’m seeing you too, so it’s fine. I’ll see you at 4:15-ish. Your practice isn’t far from here last I remember.

Hobi: Yup, short drive. I’ll put you on the calendar for Thursday afternoon. I’m glad you reached out, Jungkook. I’ve been thinking about you and __ lately. Heard you babysat Yoongi’s twins.

JK: We did.

Hobi: And how was that?

JK: Not bad. I’ll tell you tomorrow though. I’m prepping for another class right now.

Hobi: Got it, I’ll let you go. I’ll see you on Thursday.

JK: Thanks, man!

Jungkook sends a thumbs-up emoji and sets the phone flat on his desk. Well, he sighs, looks like you got yourself an appointment with a shrink.

He doesn’t know what to expect. But what he does know is that he needs to go in with an open mindset. Previous conversations with Hoseok have led him to conclude that it matters what you put into it.

“Therapy isn’t an answer to all your problems,” he recalls Hoseok explain years ago. “Its purpose is to create a space for you to process struggles in your life; triggers even. The goal is for you to better understand the root of those triggers and to find new tools that help you navigate through them. Whenever you are posed with said challenge, you can be better equipped to confront them so you can come out stronger on the other side.”

Jungkook takes a swig of water from his water bottle. He thinks of you as he does–he’s doing this for both of you in hopes that something beautiful might come from it.

At 3:15 Jungkook has his last class. His afternoon students ended up being far more engaging than his morning students. They talked to him casually, asked good questions, and gosh darn it they laughed at his jokes too. They were a great bunch of kids, Jungkook hums. He’s looking forward to walking alongside them this semester.

Before calling it a day and leaving the university, Jungkook decides a brief stroll around campus would be nice. One, it gets fresh air in his lungs and two, he’d really like to stretch his legs before sitting back down in his car.

As he walks through the middle of campus, he smiles at the groups of students rushing with their book bags. It’s a good mix between undergrads and grads. Seeing all of them rush around takes him back to his days of late-night studying at the library and partying with friends on the weekends. He tried not to party too rough but well, he might have been a little too eager to finally be on his own the first year.

He dated around a little too. The chicks at his undergrad were cute and he went out with a few of them. His longest relationship lasted a year but she broke it off with him the last year–she married an architect a year and a half later. No matter though, Sana was a sweet girl and nothing drastic ever happened between them. Hearing that she was getting married made him more happy than sad because she deserved to be with someone great. Plus, if he stayed with her, he would never have met you.

Jungkook stops in his tracks when he spots two students from his 12:15 class standing behind a small outdoor table. They appear to be selling something he can’t quite make out due to the distance.

“Dr. Jeon!” The girl waves when she catches her professor looking in their direction.

Jungkook walks up to the table with a smile. “Mi-suk, Doyun,” he greets each individually. It’s at this point that he’s able to see a dozen frames of sea glass art spread across the table. “Did you guys make these?”

The pair nod in unison. “We went to the beach this summer and found a lot of glass so we decided to do something with it.” Doyun, Mi-suk’s boyfriend, holds up one of the framed pieces that are decorated with green and blue sea glass. “This one is about lovebirds. See the heart that connects them?”

The birds that he refers to are easily seen from the sea glass’s sharp edges and carefully selected clustering. The heart is also made out of sea glass and lays between both birds. It’s a simplistic yet meaningful design.

“We wanted the heart to be interpreted in all kinds of ways from love to new beginnings like–“

“A child.” Jungkook takes the words out of Mi-suk, in a low whisper. “How much?” He digs out his wallet from his back pocket.

“33000 won. ($25 USD).” Doyun responds. “Do you have a child on the way?” Mi-suk jabs her boyfriend in the side at this.

“You don’t have to tell us Dr. Jeon. We don’t want to be nosy.” She laughs it out but Jungkook shakes his head at her.

“It’s no big deal. I’m married but we don’t have a kid at the moment. My wife loves art and she loves sea glass so, I’d like to hang one of these in our home.” He hands over the cash and takes the artwork from Doyun.

“Thank you, Dr. Jeon,” Doyun remains polite and puts the money in the cash box.

“Do you have a picture of her?” Mi-suk asks to which her boyfriend says “Now who’s being nosy?”, earning him another jab to his side.

Jungkook pulls out a small, lightly crinkled photo of you from his wallet. “This is her.” He shows it to them with a proud expression–he enjoys showing you off every chance he gets.

“She’s so beautiful Dr. Jeon! You both look so good together wow.”

“She makes us look good together.” Jungkook chuckles and slides the photo back into his wallet.

“Aww, why don’t you ever say things like that?” Mi-suk turns to her boyfriend who only shrugs.

“Why do I have to be the one to say it? Why can’t you say it?” Doyun moves to fold his arms but Jungkook gives a grimace, hinting him not to follow through. “Sorry babe, I’ll do it more often.”

Young love, Jungkook thinks. “I have to get going now, making dinner before she gets home. But thanks for the sea glass art. I’ll see you both in class on Wednesday.” He waves goodbye and heads for his car.

“He makes dinner for her too…” Mi-suk watches as her professor leaves. “You’ve never made dinner for me.” She shifts her eyes to her boyfriend who’s too busy counting the money they’ve earned so far to see her distraught face.

“Where did you get that?” You point at the new art piece hanging from the wall with your chopsticks. “It’s lovely. Are those birds?”

“Yeah, they’re love birds. A couple of my students were selling seaglass art in the middle of campus. I thought one would look nice on our wall and you like this type of art right?” Your husband takes a bite of the roasted chicken he’s made.

“I do,” you say. “Thank you for bringing one home. How was your first day back at the university?”

“Fine, my morning class is struggling but I’m hoping the energy will pick up as the semester progresses. The afternoon class is good, they seem like a fun bunch. Looking forward to the year. What about you? How was work?”

“Oh, nothing much to tell. I had a meeting with one of our business partners. Went over a series of analytical reports with him, and made suggestions on what they could do to make better-informed business decisions.”

“Yeah? Did they sound like they’d take them?” You giggle when some of the sauce from the chicken smears the corner of his mouth. “What?” he looks at you for an answer.

“Wipe your mouth. There’s sauce all over it.” You hand him a napkin and he cleans himself off. “But back to your question, they seemed receptive to my advice. We’ll see what happens in the next three months though, time will tell if they listened or not.”

“Well,” he swallows down his bite before continuing. “If they have any sense they’ll follow your suggestions. Still, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.”

You nod in agreement. “So, did anything else happen for you today? I really don’t have much else to share other than that. It was a fairly normal day.”

Jungkook sets his chopsticks on his plate and takes a drink of his beer. “There’s a few things I need to talk to you about. Oh, also,” he interrupts his own line of thought, “the note you left me was sweet. I have it on my desk by my computer.”

“I thought maybe you could use some encouragement on your first day so you’re welcome. What do you need to talk to me about?”

“First on the agenda is Taehyung. He stopped by my office and told me that he’s got a partnership with that gallery downtown. The one he displayed his work at years ago when you were in postgrad. Turns out the owner needs financial support so he’s decided to help them out as a part-owner.”

Jungkook sees that you’re just as surprised as he was when he first heard the news. “So he owns that gallery now? That man gets around well. You know that’s something about Taehyung, he’s a good networker. Never have to worry about if he knows someone or not.”

“It’s one of his strengths for sure. Taehyung’s asked me to ask you if you’d be interested in showcasing some of your artwork. He says they’re looking for more artists for their gallery and that he’d like to have your work displayed. What do you think?”

“I–what?” Getting to showcase your art has been one of your biggest dreams since a teenager. But after countless failed attempts to take your art beyond the studio, you’ve nearly given up hope that any galley would accept your pieces. “Are you shitting me Jungkook?”

“I know it’s shocking. Taehyung literally just dropped the bomb on me today and this is 100% real. If you want to get your art out there, Taehyung can pull the right strings to make that happen. Now that I think of it, he didn’t tell me when to get back to him. Probably will need to text him whenever you make your decision I guess.”

“I think I’d love to be able to do that. I don’t even know which ones to show though, I have so many to choose from.”

“I’m sure if you take a week to think it over you’ll be able to narrow down your options. And besides, this doesn’t have tp be the only set of paintings you show off. You can always switch them out from time to time. Taehyung will see that it happens.”

“Damn,” you say. “Kim Taehyung really has the whole world in the palm of his hand huh?” That man has more power in his little toe than all the world’s leaders combined.

“Taehyung is…one of a kind.” Jungkook leans his body forward, arms crossed on the dining table. “There’s a second topic I’d like to talk about too if it’s alright?”

“Shoot.”

“I have a therapy session with Hoseok on Thursday after work. I should be able to get back before 5 p.m. but we might want to order out for dinner that night.” There’s a trace of nervousness as he tells you so you reach out to sneak a hand into one of his.

“That’s fine, I can pick something up on my way home from work. I’m glad he was able to get you in this week.”

Jungkook flickers his eyes down at your hand in his, then back up to your face.“It probably goes without saying but I’m not sure what’ll come from this session. And even if it does go well, I can’t promise that we can start a baby right away. I mean maybe we can, I’m not saying we can’t but–”

“It’s okay Kookie,” you say gently. “This isn’t only about us having a baby or not you know? You’ve had a lot of challenges with your parents that I think Hoseok can help you talk through. I want you to be able to have clarity in those areas of your life too.”

“Thank you __. I love you so much.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it.

“I’m glad you wiped your mouth off before you did that,” you tease, playfully. Jungkook immediately lets go of your hand and gets up to walk to your side of the table.

“Come here smart ass,” he orders, grabbing your face to pepper several kisses on your cheeks.

Draining.

That’s the one word that comes to Jungkook’s mind if he were to sum up the rest of the week. He enjoys teaching at the university but four days in he’s already feeling the stress kinks in his neck.

“Mm.” Jungkook rolls his shoulders back to stretch the tense muscles–it’s a good thing he’s seeing Hoseok today. After getting a good stretch out, he puts his car key in the ignition and heads for the practice downtown.

"Come in, come in," Hoseok greets Jungkook with a beaming smile once he arrives at his office no short of ten minutes later. His room is on the smaller side but it has a harmonious energy with the way the sun peaks through the blinds. "How's your week been?"

Jungkook takes a seat in the large, cozy chair angled across Hoseok. He leans against the back lazily and lets out a long sigh. "It's alright, tiring, but it's to be expected. You?"

"Roughly the same.” Hoseok shuts the door and takes a seat in the chair diagonal to Jungkook. “I’ve had more patients this week than usual which has made me short on time lately. But I'm happy to make time for them."

"Thank you for seeing me this week. I was surprised when you said you could given how full your schedule gets.”

Hoseok waves his hand in dismissal. “Oh, of course, it’s no problem,” he reassures. “I had an opening so that’s why I offered. You and __ are also good friends of mind; I’m more than willing to meet with you today Jungkook. So…why don’t we get started? How was taking care of Yoongi’s rambunctious twins? You’ve taken care of them before right?”

At this, Jungkook sits straight up in his seat, his shoulders back and eyes directly trained on Hoseok. He appears stiff like the tin man from The Wizard of Oz. “Feel free to sit back,” Hoseok lightly suggests. “This isn’t a test or anything so you can relax and get comfortable if you’d like.”

“Okay.” Jungkook follows his friend’s suggestion and sinks into the back of the chair. His hands relax on his spread-out thighs. “So yeah, we’ve taken care of Yoongi’s girl before. Ari and Eun-ji have no shortage of attitude that’s for sure.” He chuckles, then continues. “They’re sweet though. I had this warm, positive energy throughout that whole night. Usually, I never have a strong feeling towards being around kids. It’s always been ‘ah they’re cute but not for me’ or ‘yes hyung, I’ll be fine to take them for a day’ but it wouldn’t go any further. I told __ about it and I think she’s holding onto hope that it means I’m changing my mind about kids.”

“And are you changing your mind? Sometimes those strong emotions will come at specific moments and they can give a false narrative. You and __ have been thinking about a baby recently which may influence these new feelings. But we have to be careful that they don’t blur what you actually want.” Hoseok pauses a second to let Jungkook maul over his words.

“It’s like this,” he continues. “You want to have a baby with her because you love her but last time we met, you said you weren’t sure if you could want it naturally for yourself. Now that you know what the other wants, and you’ve had a picture of what having kids may look like with the twins, you are more welcoming of the idea of starting a family. ‘Maybe it won’t be so bad’, your mind will tell you–‘Maybe this can really happen and I’ll be okay with it’. Meanwhile, your subconscious will say the complete opposite–that you’re pressuring yourself to feel a certain way to get that ideal outcome of giving your wife a baby. Which in turn, makes her happy and gives you security in your marriage and in yourself. I’m not saying this is exactly what’s going on but it’s a possibility to consider. Does this make sense?”

“I get what you’re saying.” Jungkook gives a brief nod. “I’m trying to be careful not to go by my feelings alone or say yes to a child out of pure tolerance of it or a willingness to please my wife. I’ve had some minor hiccups with saying we can have a baby at random times to __ . It’s caused her confusion so I’m more careful to not do stuff like that so casually. But I really am thinking about potentially starting a family so I think my mind really is changing. It’s like I’m 60% there but 40% not there.”

“60% there and 40% not there,” Hoseok repeats. “Could you break those down for me? How did you come to those percentages?”

“Well, I’m 60% because after giving it a lot of thought, I don’t dislike kids so I’m open to having them, any children I’ve been around recently have oddly uplifted my spirits, and I love my wife so if there’s anyone I could have a family with, it’d be with her. I’m 40% not there because I’m afraid I’ll revert back to my previous mindset if said child were to come. I don’t know if I can trust myself.”

“There seems to be a small pattern forming–you being uplifted around children,” Hoseok replies. “Patterns of behavior can be a measurement of progress or lack thereof. If you’ve been repeatedly uplifted around kids that’s something to think about as you sort through the matter of starting a family with __. You can trust yourself more in the conclusions you come to when there is repeated behavior and action to support them. Now as far as you being afraid you’ll revert back to your old self, why did that old Jungkook not want children? Was it a lack of interest in itself or were there external influences?”

“Uh, I guess I wanted to live a life focused on my career. My parents have done the same, but I wanted to do it separately from them. Growing up was always about meeting goals, whether they were academically or socially based. My parents were pretty absent from my life outside those frames. I couldn’t know them up close, like a healthy parent-child relationship. So when I grew up the thought of having children disinterested me. I’m happy for people who have kids but I didn’t see myself in a parenting role myself. I wasn’t fit for it either, so why have a child that I can’t properly take care of? I’d do better focusing on my career and maybe having a partner when the time came. That was my mindset.”

“It starts as disinterest and shifts to inadequacy,” Hoseok thinks a moment as he processes the explanation. The wheels turn in his head as he sorts through the information disclosed to him. “Jungkook,” he slowly starts. “Do you see yourself as naturally insecure? It seems like this different life you are describing works well for you and you’re comfortable with it, partly due to how you were raised. So the thought of something new coming into your life, like a baby, risks flipping your life upside down. You’re in turn, left vulnerable and scrabbling for what the proper course of action is. This leads to my next question–do you have a fear of becoming like your parents?”

“I suppose I do, but I never put that much weight into it before because I always thought I’d do better than them. And for the most part, I have. When it comes to raising a child though, the potential of following their lead still frightens me.”

“Given the environment you grew up in, that's completely understandable. Unfortunately, your parents didn’t raise you as a child but more of an employee or predecessor that only adds to their self-value. If it’s any encouragement, you being aware that they raised you poorly and successfully becoming a person that doesn’t embody their harmful traits means you will likely not end up like them. So you can be at ease, Jungkook. You’ll raise your children with a healthy mindset–separate from your parents.”

“Just to clarify, hyun–Dr. Jung, you’re saying that I've been against having a child because I’m worried I’ll lose my comfortable lifestyle; my security in other words. And because I’m scared to become my parents which shouldn’t be a fear because I know what they did was wrong?” Jungkook struggles to wrap his mind around the logic.

“It’s alright that you still have that apprehension Jungkook, the fear of following in your parent’s footsteps. I’m suggesting that it won’t happen because you’ve become a person who actively repulses those poor choices that they’ve made. So if you were to have a child, the chances of them being raised as you were is significantly low. Also, you wouldn’t be raising the child alone. __ will be there with you every step of the way and all of us who have been your friends for ages will be more than willing to help you too. Yoongi and Seokjin been fathers for years so they’ll be the first ones to offer a proper hand.”

“So wait, does this mean I’m ready to be a parent then? Because I see your point and it’s starting to make sense. I think I am leaning towards being one but I'm unsure if I can have a child right away. __ won’t say it but I think she’ll want to get pregnant fairly soon if I agree to having a baby. I don’t want to disappoint her.”

“It’s still up to you to decide if you’re ready or not, Jungkook.” Hosoek clears his throat, leaning forward in his chair. “Here’s what I’m saying. Your aversion to having kids doesn’t seem like a mere disinterest in kids. It’s more of an insecurity in yourself that you can work through with some help. Plus, part of you wants a child because you’ve had positive experiences with them recently. I believe, with all the factors we've discussed, you will be able to better understand the source of your hesitation and openness toward starting a family. This will help you make a clearer decision on the matter instead of holding yourself back from one based on previous misconceptions–”

“So that’s it then,” Jungkook interrupts as if enlightened. “I actually do want a baby, generally speaking. I’ve just been looking at the whole issue the wrong way, holding myself back and such.”

“Uh okay, slow down there,” Hoseok eases. “You don’t have to make the decision to have a baby right away. I’m glad you’re beginning to understand your situation more but for now, let’s talk more about this subject okay?”

Jungkook nods in agreement and continues his session with Hoseok for another half hour. He feels good by the end, so good that he schedules another meeting with him next week.

And yeah, he thinks he really does want that baby. When he gets home he’s going to wrap you in his arms and tell you all about it.

Jungkook finds you on the living room couch when he gets home. Your legs are tucked underneath you as you scroll on your phone. You're out of your work clothes and have a plain t-shirt and shorts on instead.

"Hey," you greet your husband. "How was it?"

Your husband rushes to sit beside you, the cushion bouncing due to his eagerness. He proceeds to tell you everything that Hoseok said, from his inner struggles with his parents to his own insecurities with fatherhood. By the end of his spiel, you're delighted that your husband's gotten helpful insight but are in utter shock as well.

"I–wow I'm blown away at how good seeing Hosoek was for you. I knew he'd help you a ton being who he is but I wasn't expecting you to be this enthusiastic to talk about babies." You let out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, nothing's funny. I need a minute to process everything, that's all."

You head to the kitchen for a glass of water. Jungkook follows behind you.

"You know...we met at a time that a child wasn't really in the cards, but now we're at a place that I think it could work," he says. "Hoseok helped me understand my hesitation and openness towards starting a family. And by the end, the thought of having a baby excited me more than scared me because we'll be doing it together."

"Are you–Junkook, are you really serious about all this?" You lean against the kitchen counter with a glass in your hand. "This a big step for us and I don't want you to have to make a quick decision. I know it was me who brought up having a family first, so it's no problem if we need to take more time to–"

"I want to do this with you __." Jungkook walks over to you and takes the cup from your hand to set it on the countertop. He then folds his hands over yours. "Nothing would make me happier than having a baby together. You still want to, don't you?"

"I do," you swallow hard and stare into his loving eyes. A small smile creeps on your face when the reality of the situation hits you–you're actually going through with this; you're going to start a family.

"So..." Jungkook drawls, inching his body closer to you.

"So, what?"

"So don't take your birth control tomorrow if you don't want to." He drops your hands at that in favor of cupping your cheeks instead, bringing you into a passionate kiss. You moan when the kiss deepens and you feel his muscular body press you further against the counter.

"Not in the kitchen," you mumble between kisses.

"Could be fun though," Jungkook smirks and brings his hands around your waist, lifting you up on the surface. Experience tells you to wrap your arms and legs around him so you do. And when he goes back for another kiss, he makes sure to bite on your bottom lip so he can slip his tongue in your mouth.

"Mhph–" you moan when his hands slip underneath your shirt, dragging it up until you lift your arms for him to take it off. He moves to your neck next, placing several open-mouth kisses on the delicate skin that is sure to turn into bluish-purple hickeys in the morning. "Jungkook," you tug his hair roughly.

Your husband grunts at the gesture and traces his fingers along your bare skin until they find the delicate band of your bra. He unclasps the material in seconds, leaving your nipples pebbling from the cool air.

"Is it too soon for me to say I can't wait until these are lactating?" He cups the swell of your breasts and circles his thumbs over your hardened buds. You mewl at the touch, arousal already collecting between your thighs.

"They'll be for the baby," you reply. "Not you."

Jungkook growls immediately and brings his mouth over a breast. The relentless sucking and licking makes you throw your head back in pleasure. He moves to your other breast after his teeth tug at your nipple a few times, repeating the process all over again. "Fuck–" you yelp when one of his tugs gets a little too harsh.

"Shit, I'm sorry baby." He draws his teeth back and starts licking the bud soothingly. "Feel better?"

"Mm," you whine. "Need more, please."

Jungkook knows exactly what you're asking for so he gives your nipples one last lick each, then pecks your lips. His sturdy arms lift you off the counter next and carries you into the bedroom where he lays you on the bed.

"Just a second," he says. You nod and watch him yank his shirt over his head, revealing his toned body. It's always sexy to see him taking his clothes off like this, you think to yourself. He removes his pants; leaving his briefs on, then climbs on the bed with you. "You're so effortlessly beautiful you know that? I'm gonna make you feel good tonight baby," he promises and plants gentle kisses down your abdomen.

You raise your butt a little when he starts peeling your shorts and underwear off. "Fuck, I didn't know you could get this wet," he comments, spreading your thighs apart so he can comfortably sit between them. A single finger drags up your slit, a moment after and you buck your hips at the suddenness. "How many fingers do you want? Or do you want to skip to my tongue eating you out? I'll do whatever you tell me, baby."

You moan hearing the last part. Jungkook is always quick to please. "Both, please. Your fingers and mouth," you say, gripping the sheets in preparation.

At your word, Jungkook slowly pushes a finger into your wet pussy. The initial squelch gives both of you pleasure; a shiver runs down your spine and Jungkook's underwear tightens.

"Oh god," you moan when a second finger slides next to the first one, both curling inside you just right. "One more, need one more." Jungkook pumps his fingers into you two more times, then adds a third.

"Like it?" he asks, fingers moving faster in you. "Feeling good?"

"Yes, fuck–keep going Kook."

Jungkook continues pumping his finger inside you, carefully watching you bite your lip as he does. He loves seeing you like this–getting so fucked out over his fingers. "Shit–" he grunts and leans his head between your thighs when he sees some of your pearly white liquid drip down your thighs and onto the bed sheets.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you repeat, nearly breathless as your husband starts licking a long stripe across your sex. He removes his fingers before doing it again, allowing him to dip the tip of his tongue into your folds ever so slightly. "I think I'm about to come," you warn and claw at his luscious hair with one hand.

Jungkook takes this as the perfect time to start sucking your clit, biting it teasingly until you finally have your first orgasm of the night. When he lifts his head from your pussy, his mouth and chin are both glistening with your cum. "I love eating you out," he says, using his arm to wipe his mouth and chin, "You always taste like fucking candy. And you have no idea how turns on it makes me to see you enjoying it just as much."

"I'm pretty sure I can take a good guess," you reply, eyeing his obvious erection. "Want me to suck you off?" You move to slide the band of his briefs down but he stops the movement.

"Not tonight baby," he says. "I really just want to fuck you now."

"You sure?" you ask again but he only gets off the bed and removes his underwear. His hard cock smacks against his abdomen when he does, making your pussy clench around nothing.

"Missionary?" Jungkook crawls back on the bed and guides you on your back before throwing your legs over his shoulder. "Heard this angle is good for making babies." He winks and you laugh at his sudden playfulness.

"Kook, you know it'll be a few months before I'll be able to get pregnant right? Since I've been on birth control for years?"

"Well, I guess we're getting a head start then." Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows at you flirtatiously then slowly sinks the tips of his length into your pussy until bottoming out.

"Oh fuck," you both moan in unison at the familiar stretch. You and Jungkook have had a lot of sex over the years but not like this; this is a whole new experience.

"You're gonna make such a pretty mama," he coos, slowly thrusting his cock in and out of you. You feel the pressure in your core start to build at the simple comment. "You want me to make you round with our child don't you?"

"Yes–please, I want it so bad."

"My poor baby." Jungkook quickens his pace, pulling his cock out before slamming back in. Every thrust is rougher than the last, leaving you in a moaning mess as your body bounces up and down on the mattresses. "Gonna give you as many as you want now okay? Gonna fill this pussy up so good."

"Kook!" You scream and clench uncontrollably around him as he continues fucking you at what you can only call an animalistic pace. His hair is messy, body sweating, and his teeth are clamped together in sheer pleasure.

"Fuck!" He lets out another loud groan, his tatted hand clinging onto your legs while the other presses down on your stomach. "Look at you taking me so well," he praises. "Always so good for me or do you really want a baby that bad hm? Talk to me baby, tell me how it feels having your guts rearranged."

"It–" you can barely speak as his cock beats into you messily, his balls slapping against your asscheeks as he does. "It feels so good, shit! Don't stop!" You claw the sheets, desperate to cling onto something.

"Yeah? You want me to keep fucking you like this?" He pushes down on your stomach a little more. The added pressure makes it so you can feel his cock even more.

"Oh god, oh god fuck–" your eyes roll to the back of your head as your pussy starts spasming from all the thrusting. "So close, I'm so close Jungkook..."

"I can tell baby," he grunts. "You're squeezing me so tight but you're also so fucking wet. Come whenever you're ready okay? I'm going get us both there."

The next thirty seconds to a minute consists of Jungkook snapping his hips and several of your broken moans echoing off the walls of your bedroom. Finally, after a series of long, hard thrusts, you both reach your peak and have your release.

"I love you so much," Jungkook lets go of your legs and moves to straddle you. His elbows come up on either side of your head as he leans in for a kiss.

"I love you too," you mumble and card your fingers through his hair. "You're going to make a wonderful father Kook."

"Only because of you," he whispers before capturing your lips in simultaneously the most fiery and sweet kiss you've ever shared.

"What time is it?" You lazily throw an arm around your husband but to your dissatisfaction, it slips off him and hits the mattress instead. He's getting up for work–crap.

"It's 5:30 a.m," Jungkook replies and stands up from the bed, back muscles flexing as he does. He's still naked from last night and so are you now that you think about it. "I need to hop in the shower for work."

You reach forward to catch his wrist before he can move any further. "Let me join you."

Jungkook smiles. You're so beautiful with the way the soft sheets wrap around your bare skin. And your grip on his wrist makes him wish he could crawl back in bed with you.

"As wonderful as that sounds, we both know what'll happen if you jump in the shower with me. And we don't have enough time for that today. Sleep instead, okay?" He gives you a quick kiss and heads for the bathroom.

"Kook–" You kick the covers off your body and follow him.

"What are you doing?" he turns his head in your direction when he feels a cool breeze coming from the door.

"I need to shower too," you say and step behind him in the tub.

"Alright," he narrows his eyes at you. "I'll allow it but behave." When he turns on the hot water you grab your bodywash from the shelf.

"Mhm," you hum. "I definitely will."

You definitely did not. Which is why your husband is about to be late to his lecture with potential hickeys on his neck. You tried to be careful not to put them anywhere visible though—the kids don't need to see that.

"I gotta leave honey," he kisses you by the front door, keys jingling in his hand. "Bye," another kiss. "Yup bye…okay I love you but if I can't get fired by not showing up to class."

You give him one last smooch before reluctantly letting him go. "Oh wait, your collar." You smooth the fabric down for him when you see the crinkles. Jungkook likes it when you groom him like this, it's cute.

"Thanks," he says. "Love you!"

Once he's out of sight you shut the door behind him and walk back to your bedroom.

oh god.

You immediately stand still when you feel a sudden throbbing in your head. You place a hand over your stomach and close your eyes in hopes it'll pass.

"I think I need some water," you say. "I'm so nauseous. This has to be a dizzy spell. No way I'm pregnant after one night of being off my birth control." You dismiss the idea at the mere thought. "It's too soon."

Despite your protests, you decide to pick up a pregnancy test on your way home from work—just to be sure.

"Negative," you read the results of the test later that night. Outside the bathroom, you hear your husband rustling about in the bedroom. "Well, we'll just keep trying."

You smile, anticipating the start of your new life with Jungkook.

A/N: What do you think of the ending? I know oc is negative for pregnancy but she just got off bc so it'll take a few months. Still, they will keep trying ;) stayed tuned for an epilogue and hit me up with drabble ideas, as I will be writing more myself haha. Love You!! 😘

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angel-kyo · 4 months

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Pay it no mind

Part X

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX

----------------------

You sprinted out of the cafeteria after Satoru and called his name once his back was on sight.

Gojo immediately stopped walking but did not turn around. He had not expected you to come after him, but it would be a lie to say he was not glad you had. After not seeing much of you all week, and although it had been his fault for proactively escaping any room as soon as you entered it, he was missing you.

Why was he avoiding you? It was hard to put in words. Call it instincts, but for some reason, he started walking in the opposite direction as soon as he saw you for the first time after that last Saturday together, and then he just kept doing it. Maybe it had been an attempt at keeping things okay between you two. If he left things still, they would not worsen, right?

Wrong.

“You really walk fast.” He knew you were right behind him now, so he turned to face you.

You were slightly out of breath due to rushing after him, but Satoru thought you looked adorable. He had gotten into the habit of scolding himself after having such kind of thoughts about you, but he let it slip this time. There is nothing wrong with me thinking that if it’s true, he reasoned.

He gave you a smile. “My stride is just larger than yours.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” It was good to see him. Just having him in front of you made you feel better. “Can we talk?”

“I’m all ears.” He was keeping a more reserved smile and less cheerful demeanor than usual. You recognized that behavior immediately; it was a facade, and you knew he would maintain it as long as there were students and colleagues around. If you wanted him to drop the act, you needed to talk to him in a more private place.

You grabbed Satoru’s wrist and pulled him to a different part of the school.

While you led him on, Gojo thought of how you had never held hands in public. Sure, anyone would raise an eyebrow at how the strongest sorcerer was letting himself be dragged around like that. If he held your hand as he was used to, that would definitely give people the wrong impression.

I couldn't care less about what they think, though.

You led him into an empty classroom. “Here is okay, I think.”

Satoru looked around and smirked. “Are you trying to talk me into something shady, [name]?”

You smiled. No, I’m trying to make you loosen up a bit.

“That depends. How shady is it that my best friend is avoiding me?” He opened his mouth again, but no words came out.

Satoru did not really have the guts to lie to you, but he did not think he could tell you what was going on inside his head or his heart now either.

You continued when he did not say anything. “Are you mad at me?”

After replaying that last Saturday a hundred times in your head, you believed he had not acted like himself, but he had not said anything concluding either.

“I am not,” he said, but it did not sound convincing, and that blindfold of his made it too difficult to read his expression.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” You took a step closer.

Maybe if you…

“Can I…?” You lifted your hands tentatively and he leaned in.

You removed his blindfold slowly. Satoru’s eyes were closed, but when he opened them, they met yours, as they always did, even when he was covering them. Your arms returned to your sides, but you did not step back.

Scanning his features, you found no traces of anger on Satoru’s face, and you were reminded of how human he could look. He was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but sometimes, you could still peek at the boy he was at heart and now felt like one of those moments.

Being so close to him, put you at ease but broke your heart at the same time. You had loved the kid and the teen versions of him, and now, the man, maybe all in slightly different ways, but you loved him, nonetheless. Even after accepting he could not return your feelings, you hoped he could love you a little as well.

“I’m not mad at you,” he repeated. “You…” His eyes were on yours, and his tone made you recall the last time he had struggled with his words in front of you, sweets in hand, pausing his speech as if he could not really talk.

He is trying to say something he knows will make things weird.

He finally got the words out. “I know what you are thinking, but I don’t mind him. You… surprised me, it’s all.”

Back in the day, when Satoru disapproved of your friendship with Haruki, although you never fully understood his motive, he had tried to make peace with it for your sake. You knew that much. However, when his leaving inevitably left a bitter taste in your mouth and your heart ached over his last messages and scarce letters, Satoru comforted you the best he could, and even if you had not resented Ikeda, Satoru sure had. You thought he may still associate him with those not-so-happy days.

You nodded slowly. He was right, you had not expected him to return either. “I know.” Your gaze dropped to the collar of his uniform. “I’m sorry. I should have...”

“No. I am sorry too,” he interrupted.

On that sleepless night after being out with you, Satoru had accepted he was not entitled to knowing every detail of your life, but he had reached some other more concerning conclusions.

***

“'You’re a coward'”, Satoru said in a silly way, imitating the tone of a certain boy. “And then he had the guts to smile at me. What a jerk...”

Suguru had listened to Satoru’s full narration of events of how he had talked with Ikeda, and while the subject had initially perked his interest, as he could not picture his friend voluntarily trying to clear the air with Haruki, the story had soon turned into just Satoru complaining about the guy as usual.

“And how did that make you feel?” Suguru disinterestedly turned the page of the book he was reading.

Gojo was going to answer when he realized Geto was barely paying attention.

Suguru felt his friend’s intense gaze and closed his book to look at him. “Well, what else do you want me to say?”

“That he is wrong maybe? I’m not a coward.”

Suguru hummed. “I’m not so sure.”

Gojo smiled. “Trying to pick up a fight, Suguru?”

“All I’m saying is that…” Geto looked at Satoru’s face. It shouldn't be me telling him, and he will not understand it now anyway, because he does not want to believe it. He sighed. “Never mind.”

Geto walked, book in hand, to Satoru, who was sitting down at his desk, and gave him a light tap on the head with the book. “You’ll understand it someday.”

And then he left the room.

“Understand what?” Satoru rubbed his head and got up to catch up with Geto. “Suguru, wait! Understand what?”

***

Now, having you so close, your [eye color] eyes fixed on his, the same eyes he would always look for first in any room, it was clear as day.

Every time he sought you first, every laugh, every touch; how he always needed to know you were okay, how he felt wary towards anyone getting too comfortable around you, how badly he wanted you to remain by his side... It all had hit him like a bullet.

“Satoru, have you ever liked someone?”

Just you, he thought. Of course, there was never a clear line with you. He just had loved you; he could not remember a time when he did not, and he could not think of anyone else he could love that way.

Even if you told him that Ikeda had returned to stay or that your feelings had changed, he was not sure he could restrain himself any longer. No, he would not, not without putting all the cards on the table first.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and leaned in closer. “[name], do you still…?”

His hands on you were firm, but not enough to hurt, and he was fully in your personal space now. It startled you, and you did not really focus on his words.

“Gojo! There you are. I….” The door had opened suddenly revealing a frantic Ijichi.

Ijichi had been looking for Gojo because the higher-ups wanted to see him. He had called, but Satoru had not picked up, so he had searched everywhere in the school under the impression he was there. In any case, he was not expecting to find the view in front of him: his senior grabbing you, his face a couple inches away from yours, and his eyes burning bright blue now directed at him, while you rigidly turned your head to look at him too.

“My apologies!” Ijichi closed the door rather loudly.

What had he just witnessed? He knew you were close, maybe too close. Was it a fight? Even if Gojo had been challenging you, would he really go for a physical fight with you? He thought you were friends, but the way he was grabbing you, like keeping you in place…

Or maybe a lovers’ quarrel? Could it be that the nature of your relationship went beyond friendship? None of you had partners of your own as far as he was concerned, and you spent a lot of time together. Would that not make more sense?

Perhaps Ijichi was jumping to the worst conclusions too fast, and there was the possibility of it not being a fight of any sort. What if he had interrupted a more intimate moment? Was Gojo going to flick his forehead for this?

Satoru sighed when Ijichi closed the door. He had been about to ask if you still liked him.

And then what? What if they say no?, he questioned himself.

You looked back at him. “Did you see his face?” you almost whispered, before letting out your laughter. Ijichi had looked as if he had caught you doing something indecent, and while you should probably be worried about how compromising your position and Satoru’s had appeared, Ijichi’s expression had been too funny not to laugh.

Gojo laughed too, watching closely how your lips curved. Another thought popped up in his head: would you be horrified if he kissed you?

He should probably tell you how he felt first. His hands were on your upper arms now, but he was not sure he could confess knowing Ijichi was right outside.

He straightened up. “So…”

“Are we okay now?” You offered him his blindfold back.

He took it. “We are.”

And while Satoru did feel lighter, his feelings were aching in his chest.

----------------------

Note: The end is approaching, but of course I wouldn't let them kiss just now. ^^

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XI

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skzdarlings · 11 months

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part vii: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the years.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending. (chapter word count; 9600 words)

chapter warnings: beginnings of some kink exploration (dom/sub, mentions of discipline, breeding kink)

At one of your father’s dinner parties, a pompous idiot with too much to drink touches you. It takes Felix seconds to rip that hand away, holding it in a painful clutch and threatening to snap his wrist if the man tries anything again. Safe to say, he does not, and everyone else gives you a blissfully wide berth.

You look at Felix on the ride back to the apartment. The armed limo is huge and empty with just the two of you, the partition up for a modicum of privacy, but he is still quiet. His head is on his fist as he stares out the tinted window. It is not a particularly morose quietude; you suspect he is just tired because of the long day and late hour.

You are tired too, your gaze dreamy and unfocussed as you look at him. The security uniform tonight is a black dress shirt and black suit. It makes him look severe, lean and dark, all high cheekbones and dark brows, his shock of blonde hair tied smoothly back.

He looks very intimidating when he doesn’t smile, fitting a plethora of roles when it suits him. This one stirs something deep in the core of you, something that makes you feel flushed and a little embarrassed.

It seems like such a cliché, someone with your history getting turned on by a mean man with a meaner hand. Your stubborn side is irrefutably against you even acknowledging such a desire, but the desire wins out anyway. You and Felix know real violence better than anyone. You know the power propelling your passion is not his deep voice snapping at that man, not his powerful stance or harsh action. It was the way he looked at you after. The way he so gently touched your side to comfort you, using that low voice not to threaten but console, asking so sincerely if you were all right and if you needed anything. You know if you asked, he would have given you anything.

Your father looks at Felix and sees an inhuman soldier. Others look at him and see his masks, his roles, his duties. You see all those things and more, his capacity for goodness among them.

Felix has taken beatings for you. He has protected you with all his painfully won abilities. He has trusted you with the darkest parts of himself, just as he seen the worst of your wounds. You know he will always take care of those scars, and there is immense relief in trusting that way.

You doze in your dreaminess, stirring when he gently shakes your shoulder at arrival. You groan, more for show than actual displeasure. He chuckles and squeezes your arm.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Gotta get to bed before you can sleep, yeah?”

You blink your eyes open. He is close, close enough to count each freckle. You brush back a fallen strand of blonde hair, your gaze tracing it to the root. He needs another touch-up. You smile, thinking about the simple domestic routine that is helping him with his hair, a part of his body he can control and that he trusts you with completely.

“C’mon,” he says again, as the driver opens the door. “Let’s go.”

Felix steps out first, always assessing. You follow when he offers his hand. You both acknowledge the driver with the usual politeness then Felix escorts you into the building. In the elevator, you rest your head on his shoulder and yawn. He stands straight and stoic, aware of the cameras and surveillance. You bumbling about in your tipsiness is normal but he should be indifferent to it.

He takes your heels when you pass them to him, walking calmly while you sashay out of the elevator with a showy flourish. You know it is killing him not to laugh until you are safe inside the apartment.

“You’re a menace,” he says, tossing your shoes to the side. You giggle and reach for him but he swerves and ignores your pout. “Go to bed,” he says. “I’m just gonna let your dad know we’re back.”

The usual routine. Phone call, security check, bed. Sometimes he takes longer than necessary so you are asleep when he climbs into bed, but when you are awake he smiles despite himself.

That smile dimples his cheeks tonight. You are sitting at your vanity, wiping the last of your make-up when he walks into the bedroom. He unknots his tie while swooping down, his mouth by your ear and your gazes meeting in the mirror.

“You should be in bed,” he says. His tone colours it so suggestively that he might as well have murmured something filthy.

You feign indifference as you turn to him. He straightens and you stand, your gazes locked in a challenging contest of wills. You take the ends of his tie and tug him closer. He is too coordinated to truly stumble so you know he does it for your benefit, looking charmed the whole time.

“I need help, remember?” You smile sweetly. “You’ve been derelict in duty.”

“Ah,” he says. “Sorry to leave you waiting.”

“You should be.”

It seems long ago now that you were standing in your closet at the house, wishing you had an excuse for Felix to put his hands on you. That was when you hoped for a circumstantial resolution, so you would not have to ask, so it would just happen.

Things have changed. He was with you when you bought this dress. He was in this room when you stepped into it. He zipped it because you asked, in on the same joke when you smiled at him through the mirror.

Now you turn around and offer your back. There were some tingles when he zipped you up, just like there were sparks when you tied his tie despite him knowing how, but having him undress you feels different. A little shiver dances down your spine as he lowers the zipper, slower than he needs to, either tormenting you or bracing himself.

He doesn’t need to slide the straps down your shoulders, nor help you step out of the dress, but he does. He gathers it at your waist and sinks to his knees, letting you step out of the gown. Then he drapes it over his arm and stands, pointedly not looking any lower than your neck.

“Will that be all?” he asks, dryly, playing your little game.

You lift an eyebrow and smirk. He laughs, shaking his head.

“Proper classes start next week, yeah?” He leaves to hang your dress. “You should try and get on a better sleep schedule.”

“Ugh,” is your reply. “You and your common sense. I hate you.”

He smirks, looking down at the dress as he slides it onto the hanger. “I know,” he says.

There is one more party before the summer ends. You know there will be lots of socializing, the final summer bash an excruciatingly long event, so you take your time preparing. You permit a little indulgence, lounging in a bubble bath while reading on your phone.

You tend to mentally insert Felix into all the stories. His understated dominance, deriving from a secure sense of competence, is far more tantalizing than some of the dramatically brusque characters, so you really have no choice but to think of your bodyguard as you slide your free hand under the water…

As if he knows you are about to be naughty, Felix knocks at the bathroom door.

“Yes?” you ask, turning off your screen. “What is it?”

“Uhh, is my jacket still in there? I can’t find it.”

“Yup.”

“All right. Can you bring it when you’re done—”

“You can come in,” you say. You place your phone aside then sink into the water. “I’m decent.”

Felix opens the door only to immediately jump back a step.

“O-o-okaaay,” he says before laughing in disbelief. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, uhh, that was my fault. I should have known better.”

You giggle, blowing a few bubbles apart.

“Don’t be a baby,” you say. “You can’t see anything.” That much is true as the bubbles blanket the water. “Besides,” you say, smiling, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He sighs and looks at you sideways. You raise a wet hand and wiggle your fingers.

“Uh-huh,” he says, amused despite himself. He sighs again, his voice breaking on the upward lilt, making you laugh. He crosses the room, pointedly not looking in your direction and fetching his jacket off the counter.

He is leaving when you call his name in a syrupy voice.

“Yes?” he asks, his back to you. He is in a white dress shirt but ripped jeans, his hair in a messy half-ponytail. He is only halfway ready, halfway your father’s man, but all the way yours when you call him back to you.

He tosses the jacket on the counter again. He crosses his arms, looking at you with an expectant tip of the head.

You lift a leg and rest your toes on the end of the tub. His eyes flick down the length of bare skin before settling on your face, his expression seemingly unmoved despite the compulsion to look.

You hum casually as you wave a razor.

“Are you kidding,” he says, more of a statement than a question, already knowing the answer.

“What? You’re here to help me, aren’t you?” you ask, blinking innocently.

“I’m here to, hmm, stop you from being killed and, ah, what did your father say again…” He taps a finger on his chin while ambling towards the tub. He smiles as if remembering, nodding with utmost seriousness. “Yeah, that was it. Use my, uhh, discretion? To discipline you?”

“Do you want to discipline me, Felix?”

There is a moment of tense silence. He takes the final step to the tub and perches himself on the edge. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, carefully folding each crease up to his elbow. You watch it, far more rapt than any person should be, looking at his forearms, his wrists, his hands, and wondering how you can be so attracted to even the most innocuous parts of him.

“You know…” he says, without any teasing or irony, drawing your eyes up to his face. “Sometimes I think… you know, I’ll be a monster my whole life no matter what I do.” He takes the razor while you are distracted with forming an interjection. He keeps speaking, lathering some soap on his fingertips. “I don’t how you can ask me things like that, and somehow… just… make me feel like no matter what I’m doing, I’m still doing something, mmm, holy… and good.”

You are good, you want to say.

He clasps your ankle and rests it on his knee, then draws the razor along your calf, concentrated. You are hyperaware of the kiss of metal, how easily he could hurt you, how he is so careful not to, even by accident. He rinses the razor then starts again, eyes turned to his task while he speaks.

“The way you look at me, ah,” he says, smiling and shaking his head. “It almost scares me, yeah, just what I’d do if it was for you.”

“Well,” you say, letting your leg sink back into the water when he finishes. “That’s because you’re a good bodyguard.” It is the most you trust yourself to say.

“Am I?” he asks, with a tilt of the head.

Your eyes meet for as long as you can bear to look at him, then you force yourself to shrug.

“You already know how I feel about you,” is what you say.

He lets out a breath of a laugh, then stands and turns to leave. You clear your throat loudly and he looks back at you.

“I have another leg,” you say dryly.

He laughs and sits back down.

The party is a typical event. Everyone blends together, a restless sea of noisy faces. You do not take particular note of anyone.

Until you see Hyunjin.

He is across the room, sitting with his parents and a few other people. It has only been a few months but his hair has grown, now touching his jaw. He is handsome as ever but he is no longer faking happiness. You relate to the look on his face, the open contempt as he regards a few characters at his table.

He is helping himself to the complimentary wine, a blush on his cheeks from mild intoxication. You watch him swing out of his seat and strut up to the bar, his father glaring behind him the whole time.

Then his father spots you and you have to refrain from rolling your eyes. You take a sip of your own drink, sighing as Hyunjin’s father crosses the room to whisper something to him.

Hyunjin looks your way. Though there are many people between you, the fuss of the party fades away. You see him, his slouch, how tired he looks, aged in just a few short months. You want to ask him so many questions. You hope he is okay, but he is here so that must be limited.

Hyunjin looks at his father and shakes his head. A quiet argument seems to brew between them, ending with Hyunjin storming off into the corridor. You watch him retreat, debating whether or not you want to follow when your father says, “Don’t.”

You did not realize he had returned to the table. He is sipping a coffee and watching you with obvious disapproval.

“Don’t what?” you ask. The question punches out of you very sharply. The ordeal with Hyunjin reminds you of everything that followed with Jisung. You cannot help the way your adrenaline kicks in, frightened and frantic.

Your father is always happiest when he has an underling squirming. He smiles into his coffee then slowly places it down. He takes his time wiping his mouth, tossing the napkin on the floor after.

“You’re not a child anymore,” he says. “You don’t need a boy like that.”

“I don’t want a boy like that,” you say. “We’re still friends, though.”

“You don’t need friends like that either,” he says. “You’re better than this.”

The absolute nerve of this man to act like he never liked Hyunjin, that your break-up was his plan all along, that your decision was actually his own. To act like he is still in control.

A part of you wants so badly to swing back with your own words, to tell him everything about you, about Felix, just to see the look on his face. He’s not in control of your life, you are, and he can throw you into whatever situation he wants, but you will continue to make your own choices. You have carved out your own happiness right under his nose. You have done the impossible over and over and over again.

You do not say anything, of course. A few moments of gloating satisfaction is not worth the devastating outcome of such a revelation. You just shake your head and clench your jaw, fixing your stare on nothing particular. You count your breath to temper yourself.

“I am pleased you agree with me on such an assertion,” your father says.

He must know he is riling you up, but he gets to act calm and collected because he has no emotional investment in it. Hyunjin was a means an end. Jisung was nothing and no one. Felix is a soldier. He doesn’t care about Hyunjin’s artistic side, that he has a deeply sensitive nature. He doesn’t care that Jisung is funny and brilliant and creative, that he brightens lives just by being there. He doesn’t care that Felix has a hundred complicated layers, that he is good and goofy and kind, that he is sad and sorrowful and angry.

He doesn’t care that you love them. He cares that people play their part so he can play his, above them all where he is safe in his power.

“I do what I have to,” you say through gritted teeth.

“A valuable lesson for the Hwang boy if he wants to move up in the world,” your father says, otherwise dismissive as he looks at his watch. The conversation is evidently starting to bore him.

That annoys you more than anything else. Though you know better, your vexation propels you to blurt, “And what lesson was Jisung supposed to learn?”

You regret it as soon as you say it. You do not want to do anything that would ever endanger him again.

Your fleeting panic is for nothing. Your father is perplexed, looking at you like he thinks you may have finally gone insane.

“Who?” he says.

A twisted combination of fury and relief spins inside you like a hurricane. Who. Your best friend, an innocent civilian that he targeted and harassed, a good and kind boy who never wanted anything more than to love his friends and be loved in return. One of the most heartbreaking separations of your life, a source of so much agony and anger. It was only a few months ago.

And your father says who.

You are so stunned, you can only stare back at him, completely at a loss for words.

Your father is standing, prepared to leave, when realization blooms on his face.

“Ah, right, the schoolboy,” he says. Then he just laughs, like you told an absolutely hilarious joke. He puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes amiably. “He learned not to aim higher than he’s worth,” your father says, laughing some more like he cracked a punchline too. “Some people are destined to live and die as nothing.”

He walks away with a smile. You stare into the distance, stone-faced.

When the timing is less suspicious, you make your way over to Felix. He is standing with the security team, armed and ready for action. He unhooks his earpiece so he can hear when you whisper.

“As soon as possible,” you say, “get me alone with Hyunjin. And be as discreet, please.”

It is obvious he was not expecting that. He opens his mouth to say something then closes it again, looking confused.

“Please,” you say, then walk away so you do not arouse suspicion. There is only so much conversation you would reasonably need to have with your bodyguard in the middle of a party.

Felix pops his earpiece back in, frowning to himself as he resumes position. You go to the bar for another drink, smiling at the appropriate guests, making small talk when prompted. Hyunjin eventually returns to the room, so you and Felix make eye contact. He straightens his jacket and moves across the room, blending in as security should.

You wait by the balcony doors as Felix approaches Hyunjin. At first, Hyunjin appears to be dismissing him, then he does a double-take and realizes it is Felix. He looks confused but Felix departs as swiftly as he arrived. He joins you by the balcony doors, following you outside.

You wait, leaning on the balcony railing and looking over the hotel courtyard with unseeing eyes. Your mind is faraway, already racing with questions, thoughts, concerns. You told yourself you would never see Hyunjin or Jisung again, but that was before Hyunjin disappeared then reappeared. You have a million things you want to know. Did he try running? Did he fail? Will he try again?

Then Hyunjin steps onto the balcony and you forget the tedium of words. You hug him and he hugs you back, a tight but brief embrace. You both laugh a little.

You see Felix out of the corner of your eye. He is lingering a few feet back like a bodyguard would, but he is staring like a jealous boyfriend until he remembers himself. He clears his throat and stands straight, looking away.

Hyunjin glances at him too, then looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m guessing there’s… a story here…” he says.

“You’re one to talk,” you say, thumping his arm. “Where were you? Was it…?”

Hyunjin glances at Felix who is stoic as can be. Hyunjin clearly does not know what to make of him, so he errs on the side of the caution, speaking quietly.

“Paris,” he says. “My dad sent me to live with family for the summer. It was supposed to be a punishment, sending me away from my friends, but I loved it.”

You smile. You have to commend Hyunjin’s ability to find happiness despite how his parents try to control him. They tried to terrify him as a boy, chasing him into the shadows to hide, but it only took a few moments with Minho for him to lean back into sunlight. It pours out of him now in cracks and fissures, punching holes in his grim exhaustion and bringing him to life before your eyes.

“They watched me closely the whole time, though,” he says. “They still are. I’m just biding my time. What about you?”

“Honestly,” you say softly, “I’m just taking it one day at a time.”

“You’re not alone, though,” he says, nodding toward Felix.

In the face of Hyunjin’s honesty, past and present, you cannot lie. One glance towards Felix reveals all your thoughts.

Hyunjin smiles and pats your arm.

“That’s good, at least,” he says. “When none of you showed up to the graduation parties, I was worried. I phoned Jisung but he said he didn’t know where you were.”

“Jisung?” you say. “He didn’t go to grad?”

“No.” Hyunjin shakes his head. “He said it didn’t matter. I figured that’s because your dad wasn’t letting you go or something, and Jisung probably wouldn’t have fun without you. I told him to hang out with me but, whatever, he was kinda stubborn.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t know?” Hyunjin asks, brow furrowed. “What happened after you left my house?”

“A lot happened,” you say. You do not where to start, the story exhausting. “Basically some of my father’s enemies… well, let’s just say things got out of control and my dad got mad. Jisung was kinda in the middle of things so… I can’t see him again. For both our sakes.”

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin says. “I know you guys were close.”

You want to deflect and joke, maybe point out that most people lose contact with friends after high school. But you can’t do that. Your first true friend will always be a part of you and you cannot pretend otherwise. You don’t want to pretend otherwise.

“Yeah,” is what you say. “We were. I just hope he’ll be happy out there.”

Hyunjin wraps you up for another hug, speaking low, “I hope we all will.”

You close your eyes and squeeze him back. You are not sure when you will see him again, but you honestly hope it is never. You hope he gets away. You hope the light inside him bursts through its restraints, never to be obscured again.

Hyunjin returns to the party first. You watch him go, reflective. Eventually you look at Felix, expecting to find him stoic and composed, but he is frowning.

Flustered by all the drama, you forgot Felix gets a little jealous around Hyunjin. He still does not know the exact nature of your relationship, only that you faked a romance. Given the peculiarity of the situation, you cannot blame his marginal envy, especially because he is not impolite or aggressive about it. He understands you are all in difficult circumstances.

Considering those dramatic circumstances, petty jealousy is hilariously trivial. Felix can take out two armed agents in less than ten seconds but he cannot stop frowning at a rival pretty boy.

You touch his cheek, lifting the corner of his mouth into a smile. It drops the second you let go.

“We’re just friends,” you say.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says.

“Oh, good,” you say. “Because for a second there my very professional bodyguard almost looked jealous.”

Felix smiles one of his toothy, saccharine smiles, eyes crinkled with overnice mirth.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says. “I already told you, he doesn’t have what it takes to handle you, yeah?”

He says it so sweetly, but he says it while sliding his palm down the curve of your ass. You jump when he squeezes you, then his hand appropriately returns to the middle of your back to escort you inside.

It leaves you both sufficiently keyed up for the remainder of the party. It does not take much these days. A particularly thorough regard in a quiet room is enough to get you hot.

You find it hard to look away from him. In the limo, you inch your hand closer and closer to his lap, but he catches your fingers when they graze his thigh. Inside the building, you pretend to be more intoxicated than you are, so he is forced to sweep you into a bridal hold and carry you to the elevators. You drop your head on his shoulder, sighing with deep satisfaction. Your breath flutters the collar of his shirt.

“Menace,” Felix says affectionately.

He takes his time doing the security check. You resort to reading on your phone, inadvertently losing yourself in the erotic romance. You slide a hand under the covers, cupping yourself through your underwear. Other than a t-shirt, it is all you are wearing.

Felix returns, dressed in his t-shirt and boxers for sleep. He sits on the bed but it takes him a second to notice your guilty face. He pauses, looking at your phone then where your arm disappears under the covers.

“Hello,” he says dryly. “What are you doing?”

You pass him the phone. He lifts an eyebrow but takes it, sitting up against the headboard to read. He does not smile or frown, nor does he laugh or reprimand you. He reads, brow furrowed in concentration. At one point he flicks his thumb over his bottom lip, then he flips some hair out of his eyes.

Finally, he exhales and turns the screen off.

“Felix,” you say after a moment of silence. “Can I touch myself, please?”

“You, uhh…” He clears his throat. “You don’t need my, uhh, permission for that.”

“I want to do it here.” Your smirk softens to a shy smile when he looks at you. You wet your lips, his eyes flicking there before meeting your gaze. “And aren’t you in charge at all times?” you tease.

He laughs, a sharp breath through his nose. Amusement tickles across his face, dimples deepening with a barely restrained smile.

“I, uhh, I don’t think anyone could really take charge of you.” He laughs, then jokes, “But the politeness is a nice change, I guess.”

“I can be polite,” you say, batting your eyelashes. “And I can be good. But not for just anyone.”

He swallows. You watch the surrendering shrug of his shoulders, the tension leaving his body. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He does not look at you when he says, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay?” You smirk again.

Your prolonged teasing backfires when he looks at you without a trace of nervousness. He tips his head and looks at you expectantly, with a lifted brow and stern set to his mouth.

“Okay,” he says, voice rough. “Touch yourself.”

You are shy under the intensity of his gaze, feeling especially vulnerable as you are laying down and he is sitting up. But it is that same intensity that encourages you. This is your Felix in your shared bed, his wandering gaze the same loving caress as always.

You push the covers down. His eyes follow your hands as they hook into your underwear to shimmy down your hips. It’s seductive in theory, but it feels silly to pull back your legs and tug the fabric down. If it looks ridiculous, it does not show on his face, utterly transfixed in its devotion.

You touch yourself at the same time his hand falls into his lap. You can see him taking shape beneath his boxers, his hand finding the curve of his dick through the material.

You make a soft noise and his hand freezes, his dark eyes fixed between your legs then gradually sweeping up to your face.

Your hand pauses too.

There is no action and no sound between you for a long moment. You really do feel like you can read his face, every little detail, but maybe you simply see your own desires reflected back to you, the same way you have seen your own fears and insecurities over the years.

Right now, you see all that mutual yearning. Imploring, begging, to cross this space between you. You cannot find the words to ask. He just breathes deeply.

“Felix,” you finally say.

In the end, it’s all you need to say. He slides across the space between you.

He lays along your side, propping his head in one hand and letting the other drift down your torso. Your own hand jumps to your chest, resting just above your rapidly beating heart. He looks into your face as you part your legs in invitation.

The moment he touches you, you swear it obliterates all the pain you have ever felt, suffused completely in the pleasure of his hand. When he last touched you so intimately, you were rushed, stealing whatever touches you could in that stolen moment. Now he takes his time, feeling you, rubbing softly at your most tender places. You are so wet that his fingers glide so easily, each press silky and soft as he fits his fingers inside you, as your body welcomes him.

Your whole body feels taut, rearing under his hand and wanting so much more. He speaks to you in a low voice, nonsense sweetness that leaves you flushed and sweaty.

You grasp the collar of his shirt, tugging with thoughtless desperation, and his hand slows down. You whimper miserably, looking at him with your saddest eyes, wondering why he is stopping. Then you realize you grabbed him with the hand that was between your legs.

You remember the time he came with your fingers in his mouth, the taste of you touching his tongue. It spurs you to touch his mouth now. His lips part with a gasping breath, as if he is trying to remember how to breathe. The tip of his tongue touches the tip of your finger, then his whole face scrunches up like he is bracing himself for a hit.

He exhales, then moves.

You push yourself up on your elbows, looking down with equal parts disbelief and exhilaration. He hooks a hand under your thigh and moves you, guiding it over his shoulder as he lowers his face between your legs. His breath touches you first, then the cup of his lips, then his tongue, feasting and eager.

You want to throw back your head with pleasure, but you also don’t want to look away. You watch him through slitted eyes, his mouth, his flushed cheeks, his tongue. He tastes you like he is savouring each second, like this is a luxury to be indulged reverently, with broad strokes of his tongue and a hungry press to his lips. His open-mouthed kiss is wet and thorough, and his moan is a rumbling vibration, your thighs twitching around his head from the effect of both.

You say his name, and you say please, and you say a string of hazy supplications until you think you might cry. You touch his head, fingers sinking into his hair and tugging, making him moan and making you come. You hold him there as he takes you over, licking you until you are a trembling mess of aftershocks and sensitivity.

You gasp and he finally lifts his face. He gazes at you while he sits back on his heels. You watch him wipe his mouth, thumb circling his lips.

Your eyes go from his mouth down, down, down, begging. “Please,” you say, in a rasping voice.

“You, uhh…” His voice is so rough that even when he clears his throat, it still comes out dark. “You don’t—shouldn’t—”

“I want to,” you say, already shifting.

“You, uhhh, ah, you—”

It’s a half-hearted protestation if that, inarticulate and spoken at the same time he reaches for you. His hand curls around the back of your head, gently guiding you closer. He kneels upright and you sit lower, fumbling with his waistband. You are not sure if you are excited or nervous or both, but you forget to be shy when you finally take him in your mouth.

He starts swearing in multiple languages. Feeling him unravel with pleasure ignites more fire in your core. Inexpert though you must be, you know him, so you listen and respond. You show him the same reverence, with a slow drag of your mouth, looking up while he is between your lips. He makes a sound that comes from deep in his chest, running a hand through his hair as he curses again.

You are helpless but to moan as well. He warns when he is close, to which you hum in acknowledgement. He curses yet again, forgetting all his restraint and rules of behaviour. He cups your face, then that hard body with all its hidden power goes soft and sweet just for you. You are a little messy swallowing, but he is so dazed that he does not notice anything for a good few seconds.

“Wow,” he finally says while you sit back and wipe your lips. You cannot help but giggle back at him. “That was, uh. Wow.”

“Wow,” you repeat, your voice still ragged but teasing nonetheless. “No lecture, no scolding, no warning… just wow.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Would you even listen if I did?” he asks.

You pretend to think about it, making him laugh again, then you grin with a hearty, “Nope!”

He is still smiling when he takes you in his arms, when he puts you on your back, when he kisses across your thighs until his face is back where you want him.

“Mmm, then I won’t waste my breath,” he says.

You are still giggling when he parts his lips, though it softens when he starts licking at you slowly. He works you up again gradually on his tongue. Somewhere along the way, you realize are still smiling. You have been so afraid of so many touches for so long that it is a marvel on its own – that you like him touching you so much, that you like it enough to smile and laugh even at the height of pleasure.

Maybe it is that thought, or just the overwhelming burst of sensation when he sucks on you, when he licks at you, when he presses his face so intimately and thoroughly between your legs that you come even harder the second time. Maybe it is a part of this. Maybe it is all of this.

But tears escape from the corner of your eyes. You find yourself gasping, a shuddery sound. He is surfacing and wiping his mouth when he notices, then he is leaning over you, touching the side of your face, his face full of concern.

“It’s okay,” you say. “It’s the good kind, I promise.” It is easy to prove because you are laughing through those tears, a bubbly torrent of giggles that you cannot contain.

There is still a crease in his brow, maybe a little confused, but he smiles back at you.

“Well, I only like the good kind,” he says, wiping his thumb across your cheek.

“Mm.” You take his hand and kiss his palm. He sighs like it is somehow more torturously pleasurable than anything else. “You’re a good bodyguard,” you murmur. “It’s never the bad kind if you’re around.”

His eyes close. Though he cannot meet your gaze, he leans down and kisses your forehead.

When he withdraws, you touch his jaw and guide him close. He cups your head as your lips meet, the tangy shock on his tongue rippling through you. You do not shy away, holding him close, kissing him until you are both sated and sleepy. He lays his head on the soft curve of your chest and you run your fingers through his hair.

You get dozy, your eyes closing, your fingers slowing. He exhales.

“Mmm,” his voice is sleepy, words meandering in their low murmur, “Wish I could say… wish you could hear… Maybe…mmm… maybe you can hear me anyway, yeah… Whatever you’re dreaming about… I’ll tell you there, ‘kay. Just listen. Sweetheart. Yeah. Sweetheart…”

Though his sleepy ramblings are a little nonsensical, the sentiment is heartfelt and easily understood.

That quiet, dozy space between dreaming and waking is the only place you dare accept it so brazenly.

Every time is supposed to be the last time, just like the first time was supposed to be the only time.

You feel so alive and so safe whenever he touches you, even if you know it actually puts you in more danger. But real world ramifications feel far away. Some days you almost feel normal, studying and attending class, wandering around campus, sharing a bed in your quiet apartment.

He still phones your father with reports, though there is little to cover anyway. It is easy to disappear on that sprawling university campus, just another face among hundreds. Your friendships are cordial and mostly superficial. Felix does not need to lie as your routine genuinely revolves around class and studying, maybe some casual day trips in approved public locations.

The only lie is the biggest lie, that Felix is the perfect inhuman soldier your father wants, and you are the begrudging child licking your wounds until the day you accept your place. Your father is so wretchedly trapped in himself that you doubt he could see the truth even if someone outright told him.

A few weeks pass. The season changes into autumn. Everything turns red and gold, and the blue sky is an ashy violet on the best of days. Even in the dying browns of nature, you feel more alive than ever.

As constant as the seasonal cycle is the cycle of rest and nightmares. It is difficult to gauge when all that pain and anxiety might interrupt the peace. It comes and goes, like a restless creature begging for attention. You are not sure it will ever be truly tamed.

You wake early one morning to Felix sitting up in bed. His hair is a wavy, unkempt mess, like he was tossing more than usual. Daylight is little more than a mist in the darkness, laying over the room like a gauzy film, making everything feel very still.

He sighs and looks down at you, jumping when he sees you are awake. Usually he is much more alert. This nightmare must have been severe to keep him so occupied.

He settles, though he looks away from you.

“Sleep,” he says. “It’s early still.”

“Will you sleep with me?” you ask.

He nods, looking into the distance. He does not fully lay down, slouching against the headboard, but he holds out his arm. You nestle into his side and he wraps that arm around you.

He feels far away despite his proximity, returning to you in little breaths and touches until he is stroking his fingers across your back. You hum with pleasure and snuggle closer. It makes him sigh.

You want to stay awake to comfort him but the early hour bests you. Suddenly you are waking again, this time to your morning alarm. You are on his side of the bed but Felix is gone, though you can hear the shower running so you do not fret for long.

You are more awake this time, as is the morning itself, the daylight more determined to brighten the room. You sit up in bed and scroll through your phone, waking more surely and waiting for Felix to show. He never takes too long in the shower, functional and swift about everything. The water stops before long and you can hear him puttering around the sink.

Usually, you would not pester him during any private time, but you are still concerned after his strange start to the morning. You shuffle to the bathroom door where you gently knock.

“Yeah?” His voice sounds brighter and more alert. Maybe the worst has passed. Sometimes going about your routine is the best remedy.

“Alarm went,” you say. “Just need a shower too. Can I come in?”

“Uhhh, yeah, sure.”

You step into the bathroom. He is standing at the sink, wearing only a towel slung low around his hips. He didn’t wash his hair but it is still damp in parts, exacerbating his already messy bedhead. He brushes some of it back and smiles at you.

You feel warm and flushed like a child with a crush, suddenly very affected by the casual domesticity of this scene.

Your hesitation concerns him. He cocks his head, brow furrowing. “Y’okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Sorry. You?”

“Mhm,” he says.

It seems preposterous that you should feel so flushed, as if you have not seen more of him and in more compromising positions. It seems just as ridiculous that his eyes should linger the way they do, skimming your bare legs, up to where your long sweatshirt covers your thighs. He has had his face there several times over the last few weeks, more than acquainted with the most intimate parts of your body. Surely you should both be past gawking at each other like you have never seen any partial nudity.

But he looks and you look back. When he realizes he is staring, he draws himself away. He fumbles with his toothbrush, then jams it in his mouth without toothpaste.

You cannot help but smile. This sort of tension, while torturous in its own right, is far preferable to the darker variety.

He looks at you through the mirror, not very subtly. Your eyes meet and stay locked. You grab the hem of your sweatshirt and lift it off, leaving you completely naked in a single sweep. He takes the toothbrush out of his mouth. His exhale shakes.

He looks away and meets the gaze of his own reflection. It makes him freeze in a way you recognize, the way you sometimes freeze. Felix’s mind drifts easily, jumping from thought to thought, but this is the fastest you have seem him retreat.

He does not look at you again, but he also does not leave. He changes distraction tactics, reaching for his shaving cream instead.

Taking the cue, you wrap a towel around yourself, the material tucked neatly under the arms so you are marginally modest. You step up to the counter. He meets your gaze through the mirror while he lathers shaving cream over his face.

“Yes?” he says after a moment.

You perch yourself up on the counter, just smiling and kicking your legs. Felix jabs his tongue into his cheek to withhold his own smile. He manages to reign himself in, clearing his throat. He regards his reflection seriously as he evens out the shaving cream on his jaw.

You reach out and flick a little, catching it on your fingertip. You give it an inquisitive look.

“Do you even grow that much facial hair?” you ask as he rummages through his things for his razor.

He laughs at the question and shakes his head.

“Uhh, no, it’s splotchy and just… not sexy,” he says. “Which is why I need to get rid of it.”

“I see,” you say. “I suppose I can’t have my bodyguard looking ‘not sexy’. Tsk, tsk, the way people would talk. I’d never be able to show my face at another luncheon.”

“Mmm, I’m sure that would be devastating to you,” he says dryly.

Though he laughs along with your joke, a sombre air falls over him like a hush. He finds his razor and rinses it, but he takes a little too long, his mind wandering away again.

Your own giddiness fades. Felix is prone to the same emotional whiplash as you, though he has always been better controlling it, but right now he is vacillating so quickly between glee and sorrow that you cannot keep up.

You wonder if it was the nightmare, some dark thought still lingering in his waking mind. It could be anything. You know Felix has many complicated feelings. He is torn between his own personhood and the duty he has assigned himself, burdened by whatever treatise exists between him and your father. What I get is a life worth more than mine, was all he told you. You do not fully know what he meant; you just know how much it upset you to hear him describe his own life in such pithy terms.

He has done a great deal to keep you safe as he can, often at his own expense. He has grappled with his duty in relation to this. Protect your life, protect another life. He never says anything about protecting his own. He does not expect his service to be returned. He does not think it should be.

“Can I?” you say when he lifts the razor to his face. It makes him pause, looking from his reflection to you, clearly confused with the question. When you nod to the razor in his hand, his brow furrows and he looks at it.

“Uhh,” he says. “I guess. Sure. Why do you—”

You take the razor and hook a leg around his waist, guiding him closer to you. He comes slowly, almost warily, but his gaze softens when you touch his chin and tilt his head, your actions gentle. He looks at you, not his reflection, his gaze thoughtful just as yours is attentive. You are very careful, aware of how sensitive a face will be beneath the cut of a blade.

He leans even closer while you work, drawn to your affection like a magnet. He fits between your open legs, his hands bracketing your hips. He is leaning close, his breath touching your skin, your hand and blade steady where you care for him.

You wipe his face when all is said and done, smiling triumphantly up at him. The smile he returns is practically glowing. You cannot help but trace the line of his smooth jaw, all the way up into his hair where you flatten a few unruly strands of blonde.

He makes a sweet noise, a low grunt of pleasure, tipping his head into your head. You scratch at his scalp, down to his nape. His shoulders loosen and he leans even closer to you.

His eyes lift. He catches his own reflection behind you and it makes him pause again. You can’t possibly hate yourself that much, you think, morose.

You sigh. Holding the back of his neck, you pull his face closer. His nose skims your throat, his cheek on your shoulder, and his gaze is forcibly drawn away from his reflection. He exhales and you shiver. His hand brushes your hip before settling on the counter again.

“When I have nightmares, I like to be spoken to,” you say, the least pushy way of begging, talk to me about yours now.

Given his breath of a laugh, he understands. He makes another noise, one irrefutably guttural and suggestive, even though you are doing nothing to draw it out. It makes you swallow, your fingers shaky in his hair.

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” he says, voice so low and right by your ear. It turns your insides molten.

“Oh?” is the reply you manage.

“Mm. The opposite, really.”

“It seemed like a nightmare,” you say.

“Only when I woke up,” he says, then pulls back. “And it wasn’t real.” His gaze goes from you to his reflection, then down at nothing. His brow pinches. “I should— Uhh. I should go. You should… shower. I should…”

He says this, but he does not step away. It makes it easy to trace a finger up the planes of his abdomen and chest, leading his gaze up and up just as surely.

“Should,” you say. “Stupid word. Awful word. Imagine if I did what I should.”

“I can’t,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Not for a second.” The solemnness falls again, his gaze skittish. “But I’m not you, yeah? And I should go.”

“Be me,” you say, pressing your knees into his hips to stop him from moving. He could very easily pull away. You know you are no match for him, physically. But he lets himself be caught, as he lets no one catch him. The world comes at him with violence and he combats it easily. He only surrenders under the gentle sweep of your hand when you cup his jaw. “Be me,” you say again. “Don’t do what you should. Felix. Don’t think about what he wants. What I want. What any of them want.” You slide your hand down his shoulder, his arm. You touch the back of his hand. “What do you want?” you ask. “More than anything?”

You expect any number of replies, everything from a joke to deflection. He just stares at you for a moment, a little panicked behind his eyes, his thoughts running quickly. You worry you will have to catch him, to guide him back slowly and cautiously, but then he looks down. Not away, but low.

Then he unties your towel, parting it, revealing you slowly to his gaze. He looks at you like he has never seen you, even though you stripped down just seconds ago.

It leaves you warm and flustered, your fingers fluttering with the instinctive desire to cover yourself. You do not, though you cannot help but breathe a little harder. The cool mirror at your back has your nipples pebbling in the chill, especially with the towel gone.

Your legs are open and he is already between them, keeping them them apart. He looks down the whole length of you, wanting, hungry, then meets your gaze with an unmistakable plea.

You nod. You wet your lips, a quick flick of your tongue, then his mouth is on yours and you are gasping against his lips. You make a rough sound, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him back. The kiss is so good and deep, wasting no more time.

It fully conquers your senses, so you are surprised when he suddenly tugs you closer. It is a sharp tug, his hands on your hips, yanking you to the edge of the counter.

“Felix,” you say, his reply little more than a grunt.

Your hand collides with his, reaching for his towel. You leave him to it, raising your fingers to your own lips to lick them. You put those fingers between your legs, touching yourself, finding you are already so wet, not even needing help.

His eyes never leave your fingers, and they continue to watch the gentle rub of your hand between your thighs. His towel hits the ground, then his hand skims your thigh, joining your fingers at the centre. His fingertips are calloused, his touch distinct from yours. You drop your hand and lift your hips, rising under the now-practiced stroke of his fingers.

When he slides two fingers inside you, he moans so dark and roughly, as if more of him was already inside you. “So fucking soft,” he murmurs, breathing hard. His mouth skims your cheek, a kiss on your jaw.

Then he sucks a hard kiss on your throat, possessive, wet and hot and mean. You clench around his fingers, gasping.

He licks over his bite, no doubt leaving a bruise. You will have to cover it, but for a moment you let yourself imagine differently, wearing his mark where anyone could see, where everyone would know he is yours and you are his. It makes you whimper, practically pulsing around his fingers, squeezing him in, wanting more.

“Felix,” you say again, and it is much more of a whine this time.

He answers with a kiss, warm on your lips, just as tenderly bruising. His wet fingers slide along your thigh, his other hand does the same, then he hooks his hands under your knees to lift them a little higher. You lean onto your palms, holding the position while he licks his palm and glides it over himself. His hair is a mess again, but you are hardly composed, as out of breath when he finally presses the head of his dick against you.

You are not even sure if you are saying his name or just moaning incoherently, noises pitifully wanting when he eases himself into you. It is far slower than you want. Yes, there is a burn, as it has been some time, but you want it, the good and the bad, the pain and the pleasure. You wrap your legs around his waist and lock your ankles, pulling him into you so he sinks fully to hilt in a quick glide.

His hand slaps up against the mirror, a hard thud, twin to his sharp exhale. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his pink mouth open. His tongue swipes at your upper lip, then he kisses you softly. He moves his hips.

You hold his sides, legs still tight around him. Your position has him leaning over you, pressing weight into his hand on the mirror. You stare up at him, his closed eyes and the stern, focussed set to his features. When you make a sweet noise, he looks down at you through slitted eyes, then dives down to kiss you. It is a little less hurried, his erratic thrusting slowing to a more steady cadence, one that has you gasping on every deep push.

“Yeah,” you say, rasping. “Yeah, yes, please…”

He makes a deep noise, then exhales. “We should—” he starts.

“No shoulds,” you bark back.

He laughs, the sound filling you with even more warmth and pleasure. You luxuriate in the feeling.

“I was going to say, should be using protection or something,” he says.

“S’fine,” you say, logic too hard to comprehend because he is still fucking you, and it makes words too complicated.

“Not if I knock you up, it won’t be,” he says. “You want that?”

He asks it very dryly as the answer is obvious. No, you do not want that. It would blow up your lives astronomically. Even if you were safe, you doubt you would want children right now.

But the notion enters the same fantasy as the simple bite on your throat, a reality that only hazily resembles your own, where you let him come inside you and you let it change everything.

So he asks, and you say nothing, but you squeeze him inside you, an entirely accidental clench.

“Oh,” he says, and laughs again. It is not that golden jingle, but a low chuckle. “You do want that.”

“Shut up,” you say, slapping his shoulder. “Do not.”

“Mhm,” he says, with a few sharper thrusts that make your eyes close and mouth open. “Okay, sweetheart,” he says. It is playfully condescending and it makes you look at him with equally playful aggravation. He smiles. “What?” he asks.

“You talk a lot for a guy who has fucked me twice but never once in a bed,” you say. Then you drop the joking ire because the realization makes you laugh. “Despite the fact we have been sharing a bed for literal years.”

He tries to catch his unexpected laugh, resulting in a sputter that makes you giggle more.

He slows his actions then has the audacity to slowly pull out. You whine, pouting up at him. He touches your face and shushes you, kissing your temple, then cheek, then the sore little bite on your throat. It placates you temporarily, long enough for him to scoop his hands under your body and lift you up. You cling to him, kissing his freckled cheek while he carries you out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. There, he drops you on the bed with a soft bounce. He pushes your legs open while he climbs up between them.

“There,” he says. “Bed.” Then he leans down, hand between your bodies to put himself back inside you. You are humming with satisfaction when he grabs your arms to put them around his neck again. He kisses your cheek then below your ear. His breath caresses your skin, then he whispers, “Hold on.”

He clearly mistakes fuck me in a bed for fuck me into the mattress, because he very much proceeds to make up for all those years of sharing a bed without doing so.

After, you are laying in his arms, a bit sticky and sweaty and gross and very out of breath, but the glow has returned to his face and you feel just as warm. You take his hand and kiss his palm, then curl your fingers around his. He squeezes your hand back, resting it over his still racing heart.

The morning light has turned a sunnier yellow. You are going to miss your class.

You will deal with the consequences tomorrow.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader

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serpentandlily · 7 months

Text

Untouchable II - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Warnings: angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

a/n: Thank you all so much for all the love on the first part of this story! If you want to be added to the tag list, either comment or message or send me an ask :)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part II

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The minute you guys winnowed into the foyer of the River House, you were nearly tackled to the ground by your own brother. He spun you in a circle, greeting you as if you’d just come back from a war or something. You couldn’t help but giggle at his huge overreaction.

“You act like I’ve been gone for years,” you laughed.

“It felt like it,” he replied, giving you what you assumed was his best impression of a sad puppy dog—an odd sight to see on such a powerful High Lord.

He had barely set you down when you were scooped up into someone else’s arms. Luckily Cassian wasn’t as dramatic as your brother. He pulled away to hold you at arm's length, taking a sweeping glance down your body.

“You’ve lost some muscle mass and what is this you’re wearing,” he chided in a teasing, affectionate tone. “Are you even still part of the night court, y/n?”

A scoff sounded from behind the General and you peeked over his shoulder to see Azriel standing there, his arms crossed. “She’s only been gone for three months.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and you quickly pulled your eyes away, ignoring the strain in your chest. You jokingly shoved Cassian away from you. “I’m gone for three months and the first thing you say to me is that I’ve lost muscle? Can take the boy out of Illyria but not Illyria out of the boy.”

“Damn right,” Cassian said proudly as you stepped around him, finding the rest of your family lounging about in the sitting room. “Besides, do my letters to you not count as talking?”

You rolled your eyes before giving Azriel a smile. He dipped his head in greeting, his eyes trailing over your form, but made no move to embrace you like the other two.

“You wrote letters to Cass and Rhys,” he said. “But not to me? I thought I was your favorite.”

“Rhys demanded I write to him. And Cass wrote to me first.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

A muscle ticked in his jaw when he met your eyes again but he said nothing else so you brushed past him, squeezing him on the shoulder as you did, determined to not let his presence squander the confidence you had built up these past months.

As soon as you stepped into the sitting room, a baby was pushed into your arms. You smiled at Feyre, pressing a kiss to her cheek in greeting and happily accepting to hold Nyx, your nephew. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Being on the continent has done you wonders. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, I’ve been immensely enjoying my time there. But I missed you too, Fey,” you replied with a wink before hoisting the baby further up in your arms to snuggle against his head. “And Gods, I missed you, little one.”

“He missed you too, you know.” You looked up at Rhys who was leaning against the back of the chair Feyre had plopped down in. “You’re the only one who knows how to make him laugh when he’s in one of his moods.”

You saw his words for what they truly were - ammunition. A way to guilt you to stay. The sad part was it kind of worked. If there was anyone you’d drop everything for, it was your nephew. “I think you guys did just fine without me.”

“Some of us did,” Amren piped up. “Others wouldn’t shut up about you. ‘What do you think y/n is doing right now?’ ‘When do you think she is going to come home?’ ‘Send me to the continent to check on y/n.’” She mocked, glaring at your brother. But then her glare shifted to the shadowsinger who gave her an unamused look. Your cheeks turned pink. Had she been including Azriel in that…

“I’m glad you’re finally spreading those wings, girl. It’s about time,” Amren continued, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Anyways,” Mor cut in. “Are you going to tell us what is so important that you dragged me and your sister back for?”

“I will, during our family dinner,” Rhys said. “We’re still waiting for Lucien.”

You couldn’t help but glance at Elain, who looked just about as uncomfortable as you did. It wasn’t that you specifically had anything against the fox. But he had been the close companion of the male who was the reason your mother was dead, the reason you had almost lost your wings and your life that fateful night. It made it hard to be around him without thinking of Tamlin, which brought back those painful memories.

Conversation turned normal after that and you tried to keep your eyes away from the shadowsinger. Instead you listened to Cassian and Nesta talk about the improvements the Valkyries had made in the three months you were gone. You promised Cass that you’d go to training with them tomorrow morning.

Lucien finally showed up and the small party was moved to the dining room. You took a seat next to Cassian and your heart nearly froze as you watched the redhead enter and make his way towards the empty chair next to you. You clenched your skirt in your fist but before he could take it, Azriel cut in front of him and claimed the chair as his.

You gave him a small, grateful smile. He nodded and you turned away as Elain sat down next to him. Great. Perfect. Now you’d have to listen to them all night. Perhaps the fox would’ve been a better choice.

Dinner was served and you poked at your food. Your proximity to the shadowsinger made your appetite minimal. You leaned your head against Cass’s shoulder, taking comfort in him. Cassian had always felt like a second big brother to you. And he treated you as such.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured to you, stacking more food on your plate. “You’ve got to eat if you’re going to come train with us tomorrow.”

Nesta rolled her eyes from next to him and you covered your grin. You were about to reply when Rhys stood. The room quieted when he cleared his throat. “Feyre and I have invited you here tonight for a reason. Would you like to do the honors, darling?” He tilted his head to her and she stood, smiling.

You couldn’t help but melt at the sight of your brother and his mate. You were so happy he finally had the life he deserved. Feyre placed her tattooed hand on her stomach and your eyes widened, a gasp escaping your mouth as you realized what this announcement was.

“I’m pregnant again,” she said, pure happiness in her voice. “With a little baby girl.”

Cheers and shouts erupted around the room but you were the first to jump up and hug Feyre. You couldn’t stop smiling as you let her go to be embraced by the others, taking your brother in your arms instead.

“Congratulations,” you whispered in his ear. “I’m so happy for you, Rhysie.”

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered back. “Another baby. In less than two years.”

You felt claws scrape against your mental shield.

We’re going to name her after mother. We’ve already discussed it.

You pulled back with shock, looking up into his eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. Tears lined his eyes as he nodded at you. A small cry broke from your lip as you hugged him again. When you finally composed yourself, you let him go so the others could have their turn with him. You stood off to the side, wiping your tears.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the male who fell into place next to you. “Are you alright?”

You looked up at Azriel who was watching you with concern in those beautiful hazel eyes. You nodded, clearing your throat. “They’re going to name her after our mother. After Selene.”

Azriel’s eyes widened and then he glanced at your brother, a small smile on his lips. You know how much Azriel and Cassian had loved your mother too. Had felt the loss of her all the same. You sucked in a breath and wiped away any lingering tears.

Azriel looked back down at you, his eyes searching your face. Part of you wanted to use your daemati gifts, to take a peek inside his head, to see what he was thinking. But you would never cross that line.

“You’ve got make-up,” he said, gesturing towards your face. “Here.”

You went to wipe it but he grabbed your hand. “Let me.”

He conjured a cloth napkin in his hand and gripped your chin with his other gloved hand, tilting your face up at him. Your eyes widened at his touch and you froze in place, your breath caught in your throat. He dapped at a spot on your check, just below your eye.

You hated the effect he had on you. How his scent wrapped around you, his mere presence clouding your mind. Hated how you wished to step closer to him. This wasn’t the first time he had done something as intimate as this with you but those moments were far and few between.

He was surprisingly gentle as he wiped at your face, his hand never leaving your chin even as his other fell back to his side. He stared down at you with an indiscernible emotion and your eyes bounced between his. Part of you wished this small moment would never end. But wishing and praying had never done you any good and the moment was over before you knew it.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Elain had made her way over to you and Azriel dropped his grip on you like your skin had burned him. You swallowed harshly, looking at the girl who had captured his heart in the short time she had been here.

“I’m okay, Elain,” you replied with a little dip of your head. “Just a bit emotional is all.”

She smiled at you and you wished more than anything that you could hate her. But you couldn’t. She had only ever been sweet to you. Only ever wanted to be your friend. “I can’t believe we’re about to have another baby around here. You’ll have to help me set up the nursery for Feyre again, y/n!”

“Of course!”

Elain’s hand rested on Azriel’s bicep and the sight made the dinner you had just eaten churn in your stomach. You needed to get away from them. It hadn’t been long enough. You hadn’t been away long enough to get rid of these stupid feelings. You glanced back at Azriel to find him still looking at you. You mustered up the will to give them a parting smile before dipping away.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Feyre and Rhysand had called it a night after some time celebrating but Mor had declared the night wasn’t over. At least not for you two. You hadn’t hesitated to agree to go to Rita’s—ready to let loose after having to deal with the heartache of being near Azriel and Elain.

Cassian and Nesta decided to come as well. And then to everyone’s surprise, Azriel had also said he’d come which made Elain shyly say she’d come as well. Just when you’d thought you’d have a moment of relief, the Mother had decided to spite you again. Perhaps she was just trying to drill home the point that Azriel would never be yours.

Mor passed you another shot glass and you chugged it before even asking what was in it. All you knew was you wanted to be drunk—and fast. You were squeezed between Nesta and Mor in the large booth your group occupied.

Your eyes flicked to the other side of the table. Azriel and Elain sat there, both sipping on their drinks. Neither of them looked comfortable and you wondered why they even bothered to come.

“I wanna dance,” you slurred, pouting at Mor. You shoved at your cousin to let you out of the booth and she chuckled, moving out of the way.

“Take Mor with you, sweetheart.”

Nesta elbowed Cassian in his side. “She’s not a little girl, Cass.”

“She’s fine on her own,” Mor bit, backing up Nesta. “Besides, we can still see her from here.”

You missed the disapproving glare Azriel threw at Mor who rolled her eyes at him. The alcohol had finally taken effect, making you feel carefree. You let the music take over as you pushed your way into the dancing crowd.

For once you basked in the attention you were receiving and when you felt large hands wrap around your waist from behind, you didn’t falter like you might’ve before. You glanced up to see a high fae male smirking down at you. He was handsome with brown eyes and shaggy blonde hair.

You gave him your family’s signature feline grin and decided to just go with it—anything to get the shadowsinger out of your mind.

“Don’t,” Mor growled at Azriel as he went to stand up, his eyes locked on you and the male. Cassian watched with an annoyed frown. “Let her have fun. She knows how to handle herself.”

You were oblivious to the two disgruntled bats at the table though. A few more songs passed before the male grabbed your hand and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Come. Let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled and let him drag you to the bar. His hand slid to your lower back as you watched him place an order for both of you. He turned to hand you the drink the bartender made and his eyes widened as he looked at something over your shoulder.

Your brows furrowed until that familiar scent hit you.

“Leave us,” Azriel growled at him from behind you.

The male glanced between the two of you. “Sorry, I didn’t know she was here with someone.”

“I’m not here with him.” You crossed your arms, annoyed. The male’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement, looking back at Azriel.

“Well, it seems like the lady doesn’t want you here, pal,” he said. “So why don’t you leave us?”

A sliver of fear crossed his eyes as Azriel took a step forward, his hard chest pressing into your back. “Get lost,” he snarled, his voice pure ice. “Now.”

Your mouth dropped open as the male scurried off this time, evidently not wanting a confrontation with the shadowsinger. You whirled around to see Azriel glaring down at you. You pushed him away with a hand to his chest.

“What is your problem?!”

“My problem?” he snapped back at you. “That male was clearly going to take advantage of you. You should be thanking me for scaring him off.”

“Why the hell should I thank you! He wasn’t taking advantage of me. I wanted to be with that guy.”

“And he probably just wanted to use you to get close to Rhys for power or money—who knows.”

You felt a dagger pierce your heart at his words, at his unflinching cold stare. “Right. Because no one would ever want me for anything else. No one might ever just be interested in me and not my connection to Rhys.”

“Oh don’t be naive, y/n,” Azriel said, coldly. Your mouth dropped open, tears started building in your eyes at his cruelty. But then anger finally started to rise, overpowering the hurt.

“Just because you don’t desire me like that, doesn’t mean other males don’t as well! I am not a child anymore, Azriel. I know exactly what males want from me and I also know what I want from them. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

You chugged the drink in your hand before slamming the glass on the counter.

“Y/n, that’s not what I—”

You turned away, not wanting to hear anything else he said. You couldn’t bear anymore hurt. All you wanted to do was go somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn't so you could unleash the tears stinging your eyes.

His cold hand grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around. “This conversation isn’t over,” he bit out but you shrugged yourself out of his grip.

“Yes it is,” you ground out through your teeth. “In fact, instead of sticking your nose in my business, why don’t you worry about your girlfriend’s.”

“My what—”

Azriel turned his head to follow your line of sight back to the booth you had all been sitting at before. Elain sat there alone, Mor likely dancing and Nesta and Cassian probably off making out somewhere. Some guy was leaning against the table talking to Elain, who looked incredibly uncomfortable.

You didn’t wait to hear Azriel’s response, using the distraction to storm off and disappear in the crowd—your first night had officially been ruined.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The last place you wanted to be today was the House of Wind, but you had promised Cassian and Nesta you’d show up for Valkyrie training and you knew one of them would come looking for you if you hadn’t. You could feel Azriel’s eyes on you from across the training ring but ignored him, keeping your focus on Cass.

“Alright,” Cass said, clapping his hands together. He had just led you guys through a series of exercises and you could already feel some sweat dripping down your back. “Let’s move on to sparring. Pair up and get started. Y/n, you’re with me today! Got to get you back up to speed.”

You made your way to Cassian but were intercepted by Azriel stepping in between you two. “I’ll take over her training. The new girls need more help.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged and walked off, leaving you alone with the shadowsinger. You clenched your fists, not at all happy with having to work with Azriel today when you wanted to avoid him. You were still upset with the way he talked to you last night.

“Come,” he barked, not even looking at you. “We’ll take the back corner.”

He strode off without even making sure you were following. You let out a puff of air. Great, he was in that sort of mood.

As soon as you were within range, he tossed you a training sword. You barely caught it, taken off guard.

“Let’s see how much you’ve regressed while galavanting on the continent.” His tone was cold, clearly as upset with you as you were with him. Before you could even get into a starting position, he came at you. You let out a startled noise, blocking his attack.

You narrowed your eyes at him. Fine, if this was how he wanted to play, you weren’t going to be the one to back down.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You could barely catch your breath, evading another one of his attacks. Class had already wrapped up, most Priestesses packing up their things to go back to the library. But Azriel hadn’t let up one bit.

“Class is over, Az,” you panted, side stepping another attack. “Can we stop?”

“Class is over when I say it is,” he growled at you. He lifted his sword above his head and came down with an overhead attack. You had to roll out of the way to avoid it.

“What’s gotten into you?” You snapped, putting some distance between you and him, trying to steady yourself. Azriel had never treated you like this before.

“You’re the one who declared you’re not a child anymore last night,” he snapped back at you. “So I’m not treating you like one. Suck it up, princess, and either disarm me or surrender.”

You gritted your teeth together, annoyed that he was acting like such a prick. Why the hell was he so upset with you? You had done nothing to him.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Shut up and fight me,” he growled. “Or surrender and go back to being coddled by your brother like always.”

Fury sparked a fire in your gut. Since when did you ever ask to be coddled by Rhys? He had been the one that was overprotective, to the point of being paranoid. All you ever did was try to be the person your brother expected you to be, to not have him worry over you. You attacked him this time but he was quick to parry. You felt frustrated tears start to build in your eyes.

“Oh don’t start crying now,” Azriel snarled. “You asked for this.”

“I never asked for anything from you!” You could hardly keep your sword in your hand, your body shaking from the anger you felt.

“Because your brother caters to your every need.” He spat out the word brother like it was a curse and that only fueled the fire building in you. “He gives you everything you want, takes care of you, and still you decide to go run off to the continent, causing him to constantly worry about you.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. “And keep my brother out of this. You know nothing about our relationship!”

He maneuvered behind you, using his free arm to wrap around your neck and pull you flush against his body. You were both panting, both sweating. You could faintly hear Cassian yelling at you guys to stop but you ignored him, too lost in your own anger.

Azriel leaned down, his breath dancing against your ear. “I know you’re just a burden to him. Just another responsibility that fell on his shoulders.”

The breath was expelled from your lungs, your stomach twisted into a knot. A burden? Is that how Rhys truly saw you? Just something he was being forced to take care of?

You elbowed Azriel in the stomach and kicked him in the chest away from you. He slid to a stop in the sand but then came back twice as hard. You tried to evade, tried to parry his attacks, but it was no use. You were not close to being the warrior Azriel was.

A knock to your wrist had your sword flying from you hand and you fell on your backside, scooting away from him. He didn’t seem to notice he had unarmed you and raised his sword to slash at you again. You let out a whimper of fear and lifted your hands up to block your face.

The sword sliced down the middle of your palm and you let out a pained cry. Azriel immediately froze, towering over your much smaller form on the ground. His eyes widened, the sword slipped out of his hand and suddenly Cassian was in between you two, his wings flaring out to block you as he shoved Azriel in the chest—hard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian screamed at him. He shoved him again but Azriel paid him no mind, his eyes stuck on you still sitting on the floor, now cradling your hand to your chest as blood dripped down your skin.

“Y/n…” Your name came from his lips, pure anguish in his voice as he stared at you in horror, as if now realizing he had gone way too far. You scrambled to your feet, fighting to rein in your tears.

Azriel stepped towards you but Cassian grabbed him by the shoulder roughly. “No, leave her alone. Why don’t you tell me what the hell that was?!”

Nesta was glancing between you and Azriel in shock and when she started to make her way towards you, you magick your wings, unfurled them, and took off into the sky as agony ripped through you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You had hoped to make it to your bedroom before running into anyone, but as per usual, the Mother decided to spite you. You nearly crashed into Rhys as you hurried down the hall. He caught you by your shoulders, his nostrils flaring as he smelt blood, before he looked down at you in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he asked before taking in the tears still pouring down your face. "Y/n, what happened? Why are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," you mumbled, trying to skirt around him but he yanked you into his office.

"It's not nothing," he said through clenched teeth, "You're bleeding and crying. Who hurt you?"

"It was just an accident during training this morning. I'm fine."

"Dove, please, I've seen you hurt worse than this and you never shed a tear then," he said, stroking your hair. "What happened?"

You couldn't hold it in anymore, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. "Am...am I a b-burden to you?"

"What?" he gasped in surprise. "Where did you get that idea?"

You shook your head, sniffling. Rhys sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Dove, you are not a burden to me. I don't know why you'd ever think that. I love you so much, too much perhaps. If anything, I'm the one who's burdened you with my incessant worrying."

You wished you felt relief but it just made you cry even more. Your brother continued to stroke your hair, holding you close. "Who caused you to think that?"

"No one," you mumbled into his chest. "It's nothing. I just thought—I don't know."

Rhys pulled back to hold you at arm's length. You tried to avoid eye contact with him but he gripped your chin and forced you to look up at him. Anger was swirling in his eyes. "Tell me who hurt you. Tell me who caused this."

You shook your head, not wanting to cause a fight between your brother and Azriel. His eyes glazed over for a second and you knew he was communicating with someone in his head. You felt yourself tense up. When his focus came back to you, that anger had grown into rage. You knew he had probably asked Cassian what happened at training and you cursed at the General for snitching.

He stepped around you and stalked towards the door just as Feyre entered his office. She gasped in surprise as she caught sight of the two of you. "Gods, what happened?"

Rhys brushed past her. "Stay here with her."

Feyre's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Rhys, what's going on? Where are you going?"

He glanced at her over her shoulder, his teeth bared in a snarl. "I'm going to go kick Azriel's ass."

And then he disappeared in a swirl of darkness.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

#acotar #azriel #fanfic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #shadowsinger x reader #angst #azriel fic

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 3 months

Text

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 2,438

Warnings | +18, kiss and touches noncon, Jungkook is always obsessed and gets a bit angry

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Ready for you the fourth chapter of Happy Ending! ❤

If you have any questions, please write to me! 🥰

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

When Y/N opened her eyes that day, she felt strangely physically satisfied, stretched her arms with a smile on her face, thinking that she must have finally had a good night's sleep.

Too bad the environment around her was quite different from what she had become accustomed to for two and a half years now.

The sunlit walls that gently filtered through the window were cream-colored, not gray and gloomy like those in her apartment, plus the mattress she was lying on was too soft to be the uncomfortable second-hand one she had bought to fit in her monthly expenses.

Even the blankets were different, and soon an alarm bell went off in her head.

She stood up abruptly, seized with terror.

"Where the fuck am I?" she muttered to herself, cradling her head in her hands in a vain attempt to think clearly.

Could it be that they had kidnapped her? But who, then-and for what purpose?

Her parents were not rich and wealthy people, she was a normal, average girl, she knew her neighborhood was dangerous, but to go this far?

Maybe... maybe they wanted to sell her.

She had heard of girls disappearing in the middle of the night and never to be found again.

She blanched, seized by a sick feeling, and although she wanted to refuse to believe her own consideration, the well-appointed and elegant room suggested only that one option-why else kidnap her if not to make her work in some illegal brothel frequented by bigwigs?

She shrugged those soft and foreign blankets away from herself and stood up with trembling legs, noticing that she no longer had only her camisole and panties on, a long nightgown that reached her calf covered her body, but she still felt naked given the absence of panties concealing her intimacy. In a flurry of shame she realized that whoever had been abducting her had also seen a lot of her as she blissfully slept.

The girl took a deep breath, walking to the door, which, to her surprise, she found open.

Had they forgotten to lock it? ... Or, was it a trap to test her?

She opened it wide slowly, her heart caged in a powerful grip of anxiety, the first thing she saw was a long dark hallway with artistic paintings hanging on the walls, to Y/N that style seemed similar to something she had seen before, but she could not give herself an answer.

She went into the corridor hugging herself with her own body, she did not know what she would find during her exploration, perhaps a group of kidnappers with sullen faces and brutal manners?

She noticed a bright glimmer at the end of the corridor and reached it at a slow pace, her bare feet stepped on soft carpeting that kept her from feeling cold, and even that made her say that the house must belong to someone wealthy. She could only dream of such an abode, so the idea that she had been abducted for her body grew stronger as the seconds ticked by in her mind.

When she opened the door from which the light reflected in the hallway came, a choked breath caught in her throat at the sight.

The boy with his back turned, busy among the stove, seemed all too familiar, she prayed it was not him, her beloved professor, but the sight of the tattoos on his arm, visible thanks to the short sleeves of his dark shirt, spoke volumes.

It was him, her captor was Jeon Jungkook, the same boy who had promised to protect her only the day before.

"Professor?" she asked anxiously, the young man at the stove froze.

There were a few seconds of stalemate that weighed in the air like boulders, then the boy turned around, revealing the handsome, jovial face of her teacher.

It was really him.

The bewildered girl took a step back, a gesture that did not escape Jungkook's notice.

The latter narrowed his gaze, "Y/N, you've woken up!" he exclaimed coming toward her.

Y/N shook her head, made to put further distance between them, but Jungkook grabbed her by the arm and this reminded the girl of Yoozu's attack the previous day, she found herself shaking and this alerted Jungkook.

"Sweetheart, are you sick?" he gently placed a palm on the girl's forehead, fortunately she was not burning hot, but something in her pallidness told him that something was wrong, "No...you're not hot, maybe.... It's because you're here, isn't it?" he smiled gently in her direction, Y/N would have liked to answer, but her voice wouldn't come out of her throat.

"I know it might feel strange at first, but I'm sure you'll soon get used to it, after all, I did it for your sake, baby."

Baby.

Trying to ignore the all too affectionate nickname, Y/N opened her mouth, forcing herself to answer, "You said you would protect me, that I just had to trust you," she croaked, shocked.

Jungkook frowned, "That's right, here I will protect you from all those people who have always treated you badly or never believed in you! I believe in you, and I love you, honey!" he brought his perfect face closer to the girl's, trying to steal a kiss from her, but Y/N managed to break free from his grip, not that it had been a feat, Jungkook had softened his grip for fear of hurting her, he had already seen the bruises Yoozu had given her without regard, to say Jungkook was pissed off was little, at the next opportunity he would eviscerate that useless blowhard.

Y/N, for her part, recorded his words confusedly, had he really said "I love you" to her?

She denied with her head, it couldn't be true, the professor she had so admired and had a crush on...was a psychopath.

"You can't be serious, tell me this is just a joke," begged the boy, who frowned.

"I'm not joking, Y/N, I'm sure that past this moment of confusion you'll realize that you love me too, and you'll accept me," he concluded confidently, "Now, which breakfast do you prefer? Sweet or savory?" he continued cheerfully, approaching the stove, Y/N saw toast already crispy and ready to be topped with chocolate or scrambled eggs, she took the opportunity to run out of the kitchen.

Jungkook sprinted toward her, missing her by a whisker, "Y/N!" he exclaimed shocked, not understanding the young woman's hostile attitude. He only wanted to protect her, give her the gift of a fairy tale happy ending, why didn't she understand?

Y/N returned to the previous hallway, ignoring the bedroom she had come out of, and spotting that and the kitchen, the front door must have been further down on the opposite side.

Too bad that was not a normal house, it was in fact structured differently and what she found as she pushed open yet another door was just a storage room.

She imprecated mentally, trying to turn back, but her race to safety ended with Jungkook managing to tackle her from a corner.

Y/N shrieked, terrified.

"Let go of me! Let go of me! I don't know what you want from me!" she burst into tears, she wanted to go home, her parents had done so much for her, she could not waste the opportunity they had given her to study and make a name for herself in this way, especially after they had shown themselves to be so displeased. She just wanted to make them proud.

How mocking the world was, just yesterday she had shouted those exact words, and had been saved by the very person who was now showing herself as the real danger.

Jungkook clutched her to his body, causing her to turn abruptly as the back of the small figure in his arms went crashing against the wall.

The boy inhaled in irritation and to shut her up he attached his lips to those of the woman, who widened her eyes trying to push him away.

The boy pressed even more against her, biting angrily on her lower lip, Y/N had to open her mouth wide because of the tremendous twinge she received and the man's tongue invaded her completely, demanding absolute dominance.

Y/N felt violated as the boy expertly entwined their tongues, unaware that the night before Jungkook had dared to do much more with that same tongue.

Jungkook moaned in that violent kiss, enjoying in the taste in which he was willingly drowning himself.

He reached down with one hand between their bodies, lifting one of the young woman's legs and bringing it around his hips, pushing his already hard cock against her pussy covered only by her nightgown, Jungkook could only feel the softness of that area so delicate and delicious, Y/N's eyes widened, between the lack of air and that vulgar gesture that shocked her, she began to moan shakily without any more resistance, in a pitiful surrender that made Jungkook pull away from her lips with a loud pop.

The breathing of both of them was labored and Jungkook's wild eyes met Y/N's tear-filled ones and begged him to stop.

Jungkook did not want to get that far so quickly, but the girl's actions had not pleased him, not at all.

"If you'll be good, I promise I'll stop," he hissed, "We'll go to the kitchen, where you'll eat your breakfast and we'll talk about how it's going to be between us from now on, understand?"

The girl nodded, obediently, and followed him into the kitchen, and when Jungkook let go of her wrist she sat clutching her legs, unable to banish the heavy sensation of a cock against her folds.

She had never had a boyfriend, consequently had never received such attention; it had been shocking and strange.

Why did someone like him want to be with someone like her?

Jungkook put some toast in front of her with a variety of toppings next to it, there was jam and butter, chocolate and even eggs with bacon and cheese, he filled a glass with juice for her.

The boy wanted her to eat and feel good, he really wanted the best for Y/N and was very sorry to see her so uncooperative.

He took a seat in front of her and began to eat, giving her a look that intimated her to do the same, the girl tremblingly took the butter, beginning to spread it on her toast, she did not want to anger him again, she had yet to find the entrance and realized that in order to get the go-ahead, she had to first keep the landlord happy.

"Y/N" she lifted her eyes to his, a twinge of guilt hit the boy in the stomach in front of those red, shiny eyes, "I only wish you to be happy" he began, but Y/N interrupted him.

"But you kidnapped me" she said in a huff, Jungkook for a moment did not know what to say.

"No, I didn't kidnap you, we belong together since we first met," he said confidently, "Do you remember that? You were completely wet with rain, I saw you and you bound me to you with one look, my job is to protect you and make you feel loved."

Y/N remembered that day, which took place seven months earlier, but she did not think she had left such an indelible mark on her teacher, in short, he had never shown any interest and she had never given herself false hope.

"Why didn't you say anything before, because-"

"Jungkook." the boy blocked her, "Call me Jungkook, I'm not your professor outside of school," he pointed out, disturbed by the continuous distance Y/N seemed to want to put in the dialogue.

The girl sucked it up and agreed with him.

"Why didn't you ever come forward, Jungkook?"

In a normal way, she would have liked to add, but did not want to dare too much.

The young man took a moment to absorb as best he could the girl's voice as she spoke his name with what seemed to him to be familiarity; he found the sound of those syllables coming from his woman's lips enchanting.

Y/N did not understand, why had he suddenly approached her and in such a crazy way then?

"Because I'm your professor and it wasn't ethically correct, plus you had never given me a reason to step forward...until yesterday, I couldn't allow them to go on with their torture," he said harshly, "You'll be safe with me forever."

The girl took a deep breath before she began to speak.

"You can't keep me here forever, I have a family and studies to complete, take me back to my home, Jungkook," she begged him again, the boy shook his head.

"You are home, and don't worry about your studies, I will help you and you will get your degree one hundred percent, the principal is a good friend of mine...as for your family, they were the first to hurt you."

The girl's blood drained from her face, she began to finally understand where Jungkook was going with this. He wanted to isolate her from the world, because the world had been evil to her.

Jungkook in those months had been researching the young girl's parents, neighbors told him about how they were always rude and irritated with Y/N, went around saying that the girl was squandering all their savings on that absurd belief that she wanted to continue her studies, not understanding the sacrifices they had made to raise her.

Those statements were enough for the boy to realize that they did not deserve a daughter like her, too good and sweet for such people.

"It's not the same thing!" blurted out Y/N then, ready for another fit of hysterical crying, "I want my freedom!"

"Freedom? For you to live like that is to be free? Living with the constant fear of being attacked at school or in that neighborhood you call home, without a shred of a friend?" he asked, strangled.

Those words struck Y/N, because they were so fucking true they hurt.

But still, those were not good reasons to kidnap a person, and he had done exactly that.

She shut up for a few moments not knowing how to retort, Jungkook looked at her with disappointment.

Y/N felt a pang in her heart, because in spite of everything, that was still the guy who until the night before had given her butterflies in her stomach, seeing such a look in him too made her want to vomit.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader

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imaginaryf1shots · 7 months

Text

My Girls (VII)

Words count: 3.4K

Driver!oc X Max Verstappen

Platonic!Driver!oc X the grid

Summery: Cecilia Hansson daughter of a Swedish billionaire, a race car driver, with a dream of making it big in Formula 1. However she has a few secrets that may hurt her as women are disliked in the sport.

Series Warnings: google translated french, dutch, cursing, child abandment, absent father, drinking, car accidents, Jos Verstappen, misogyny, Christian horner (tell me if i missed anything)

This is a secondary blog so I won't be able to respond but I'm adding you all to the taglist.

Masterlist

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Families

2021

Cecilia has left Mclaren and is now with Mercedes, Daniel Ricciardo taking her place in Mclaren, saying goodbye to her team and to Lando was hard, she cried alot on her last day racing with them and her last day with the team. Her and Lando exchanged helmets, once the cameras were off she was in tears hugging her teammate. It’s not like they won’t see each other but they’re each other’s first teammate, they came into the sport and helped each other adapt and develop as drivers and grew incredibly close.

Cecilia feared Max’s reaction when she told him she agreed to Mercedes’ offer, but her boyfriend surprisingly encouraged her, this is her best move.

The day Cecilia went in to talk to Toto about her contract before she signed it, she knew she had to tell him about her relationship with Max. Admittedly she should’ve told him very early on, but she wasn’t as confident as she is now.

Knocking on the team principal's door, he called for her to come in, the female opened the door and saw Toto behind his desk, he took off his glasses and sat them on the table. Cecilia closed the door behind her and greeted the Austrian man. She really admires Toto so much.

“I hope you aren’t reconsidering.” Toto said once they sat down, Cecilia across from him.

“No, no I haven’t but you may change your mind.” Cecilia said pushing back her hair, a habit she developed when she’s nervous.

“What’s wrong?” Toto frowned and leaned forward a little.

“I should’ve told you this when you first came to be, but I was a bit hesitant and admittedly scared.” Cecilia started out, she looked at Toto, she wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed, and she’d understand if he changed his mind. “So, uh, what would you say if I told you I’m in a relationship with another driver.”

Toto leaned back in his chair, it isn’t as bad as he thought, everyone already knows about Nathalie, Mclaren did a good job handling the media in that aspect, but if Cecilia and the other driver came out to the public then it’ll be something Mercedes and the other team will have to deal with.

“Who is it?” Toto asked, and tried to think of who the female has been spending a lot of time with, however her group of friends is big, she’s the only female, there’s a lot of males, but he was leaning towards Charles. The two are a fan favourite, and they spend a lot of time together.

“Max.” Cecilia didn’t take her eyes off Toto, she tried to read him but he was giving him nothing.

“Verstappen?” He had to be sure.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Start of lockdown, so just a little under a year.”

“Huh.” He wasn’t expecting this, RedBull is Mercedes’ biggest rival, but regardless he never saw that one coming, they let nothing on. Nothing different from other drivers that is.

“It hasn’t affected my driving, me and him on track we’re rivals, I’ve done so much better last year than the year before it, and we’ve never shared anything about our teams, so secrecy is something you don’t have to scared of, I - I’ve always wanted to drive for Mercedes and I’ll never do anything to sabotage that.” Cecilia may have word vomited but she wanted to get her words out before Toto made his decision.

“I can see that, this hasn’t changed my opinion, but to be sure, we’ll have an NDA written up for you as well.” Toto said and Cecilia nodded, fair is fair.

“Yeah, whatever you want.” Cecilia breathed a sigh of relief, they talked a little more before she went to leave.

“Cecilia.” Toto called the driver. “I trust you, welcome to the team.”

“Thank you.”

She called Max once she was out of the building.

“What did he say?” Was the first thing that came out of Max’s mouth when he picked up.

“He said I’m in the team, it doesn't change anything, but i’ll have to sign an NDA.” Cecilia was smiling like crazy. “What about you? When are you telling Christian?”

“Uh, I don’t know, I don’t know if I should tell him first or dad first.” Max has been debating this for a while, his mum and sister already met you, but his dad is in the dark about this.

“Who will make the bigger deal about it?” She already knew, but she isn’t going to say it.

“My- my dad probably.” He hated how he knew his dad would react, he won’t be happy.

“Then tell Christian, that way you have backup.” Cecilia knows how intense Jos can be, Max loves him but he’s done some questionable things and Cecilia just doesn’t want Max to face him alone, she doesn’t know how much of a help she can be. “We can invite him over, he can meet my parents.”

“No, no he’ll want me to tell him first.” Cecilia hummed.

“Let’s talk more when I’m back.” Cecilia said they were currently in the UK, Christian invited Max and Perez to his house, and Cecilia had her meetings and things with Mercedes to wrap up before the beginning of the season.

The day before the dinner Christian was hosting at his estate, Max met him one on one. Max went to his house for more privacy, the men sat in Christian’s office alone so they could talk.

“What’s on your mind?” Christian knew Max since he was young, and he likes to believes he knows him very well, he could tell his driver wanted to tell him something but was hesitant.

“What would you say if I was dating someone that works for another team?” Max asked, wanting to see his reaction to that question before dropping the big bomb.

“As long as there’s no secrets shared, then I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Christian answered growing curious, his mind tried to run over all the people he saw Max with from other teams, but he came blank, he only saw Max with other drivers, they’re the only people he interacted with from other teams. “What team?”

“Would it matter?” Max asked his face not showing any emotion, he had his walls up at that moment.

“Not really, but I would like to know.”

“Mcl-Mercedes.” It clicked in Christain’s mind who Max was talking about, Mclaren to Mercedes, Cecilia.

“You both have to know that when it comes out, and it will at one point, that Cecilia will be getting a lot of hate.” Christian warned, the female in his eyes has been causing a bit of a stir since she came into the sport. She is talented, he has to admit, but she’s a PR nightmare in his opinion. Mercedes definitely have their hands full with her now. He doesn’t really want her to distract Max either, but for Max to come tell him he must be serious about it.

“We’ve talked about it, we know the risk.” Max clenched his jaw.

“She has a daughter.”

“I know.”

“How long have you been together?”

“Start of lockdown.” this was kind of a repeat of what Cecilia had to go through, but it was expected, both team principals wanted the best for their teams and drivers, both are doing well and they want them to do better, any distraction could coast them points and championship.

“Okay, bring her with you tomorrow, I want to meet her officially.” Christian had to see them together to make a decision, upsetting Max won’t get him anywhere. He never really spoke with Cecilia, he’s of course spoken about her in the media and has seen her around the paddock and what not but he doesn’t think they spoke a word to each other, maybe a polite hello in passing.

Christian is happy he asked Max to bring Cecilia, it’s his first time seeing Max let go and laugh and just have fun like he was at that moment, his arm was around Cecilia. They looked happily in love, always making sure the other was close.

A few drivers were also present, Daniel, Pierre, Alex and Checo. And they all knew, no doubt about it. No one batted an eyelash at the couple, to be honest the drivers were used to the couple in private they were always stuck at the hip. You wouldn’t know it though if you saw them in any place that had cameras and phones that didn’t belong to any of their friends and people they trusted. They’re so good at hiding their relationship.

“This is why women shouldn’t be in sports.” Helmut muttered under his breath his distaste to the female clear as he glared her down, Christian sighed, having caught his words.

“Try to not let Max hear you.” Christian advised, Max is a protective person by nature, he loves his friends and family, his close circle he holds close to him and doesn’t like anyone to come near them and that includes Cecilia now.

“Well, he needs to wake up.” Helmut didn’t let it go, taking a swing from his drink.

“That’s the thing, he is.” Christian pats his shoulder and walks away, leaving the old man on his own sulking.

Christian knew then that any thought about breaking them up would cause more trouble than it’s worth, that only brought on one question, how the hell are they supposed to tell Jos?

Max was at the RedBull factory to run some simulator work, and Jos had made it there. He stood back watching Max as he ran through the tests, his eyes like a hawk taking in every little mistake.

Christian just made it in the room, seeing Jos’s imposing aura. Let’s just say that a lot of the RB mechanics like to stay away from the Dutchman. Christian makes his way over to Jos, they greet each other before they watch Max finish up.

Max and Christian share a look before Christian leads the father son duo to his office for privacy. It’s now or never, Jos will be mad that he’s not the first to know, but as the season starts and progresses Christian has an inkling that more people will know.

“What’s going on?” Jos asks, seeing the look on both their faces.

“Nothing, I just wanted to tell you something?” Max said his eyes met his dad’s. “I am seeing Cecilia… Hansson.”

“What? Seeing her? Seeing her as in-” The frown on his face and the distaste in his voice is very telling about what he was feeling.

“Dating, we’ve been dating for almost a year now.” Max confirms and he holds his dad’s gaze, Jos’s face got red his frown looked like it got stuck.

“Jos this may have come as a shock but-” Christian said as he tried to stop Jos from saying anything that’ll blow the subject out of proportions.

“But nothing! She’s a rival, she’s always been a rival, a mclaren driver!” “Mercedes.” “Doesn’t fucking matter! What are you thinking Max?”

“Dad you’re making a big deal out of nothing.” Max tried to calm his dad, but he barely said his words before he was interrupted once again.

“You can date anyone, why does it have to be her? She’ll distract you, or take information out of you to Mercedes, this is irresponsible, I didn’t spend years getting you here for you to throw it all way from some woman! She’s only here because of her money, she’s always been in the sport because of her money, and-and she has a daughter, a fucking child Max! She’s a whore-”

“DAD! Stop okay! Stop.” Max was on his feet in an instant

“Jos that’s enough.” Jos was glaring at his son almost panting. “This isn’t helping, Jos, I talked to Max about it and both him and Cecilia have signed contracts to keep any and all info about the other team a secret.” Christian said and sighed looking at both men. “Max sit down, just sit down.” Max sat back in his chair, but the frown on his face stayed. “Now can we be civil about this and talk it out."

"There's nothing to talk about." Jos dismissed Christian his glare still fixated on his son. Max scoffed, he really doesn't like fighting with his dad but Cecilia is a fact not an option and if he has any say in it isn't going anywhere.

"I'm leaving then, when you want to talk call me." Max left the room before any of the older men could say anything.

Horner sighed and rubbed his forehead in defeat. This isn't what he had hoped for. He now had the task of talking to Jos on his own.

Yeah, Jos was unconvinced. The season just started and he's still unconvinced. She was under instruction from Max to not speak with him alone, so when she was walking around the paddock and saw the Dutch man walking her way she did a 180 and started walking the other way, spotting an Aston Martin kit walking close by she changed her direction and slipped by people until she reached the older man’s side.

“Quick act like we’re in deep conversation and shouldn’t be interrupted.” Cecilia whisper shouted and the German driver looked confused, he could see Cecilia’s eye kept darting to someone over his shoulder, he only managed to take a peak. “Don’t look!”

“Mind telling me why you’re hiding for Jos?” Sebastian was confused, he had no idea why she’d be hiding from the father of her boyfriend, unless. “Did you and Max break up?”

“What? No!” She said instantly sounding offended by the statement.

“Then why are you hiding from his dad?”

“He doesn’t like me, and I’m under instructions to avoid him.” Cecilia told Sebastian who moved so she’s mostly hidden by him, only then Cecilia’s eyes settled on Seb’s.

“Why deosn’t he like you?” Seb knew how harsh Jos can be, but Cecilia is an incredible woman, who anyone would be lucky to have her.

“Uh not 100% sure but it’s along of the lines of, I’m a rival, I’m a teen parent, I’m a female ruining the sport, and I’m a spy… yeah that’s it… i think… that I know of.” Cecilia nodded to herself once she listed.

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Only one thing you listed is true.” Seb pointed out and Cecilia shrugged muttering an ‘I don't know’. “It’s stupid, but I think Max will get it handled.”

“Hope so, because that would make family gatherings awkward.” Cecilia laughed it off, but it bothered her, of course it did. She hates being the reason why the Verstappen men were fighting, things are tense between them and in turn the garage, but there’s nothing she could do. She’s not leaving Max, and she likes to believe that Max isn’t leaving her as well.

Cecilia has managed to stay out of Jos’ way, even though it was hard. It seemed like the man was everywhere all of the sudden, Max still wasn’t talking to his father but Jos insisted on coming to almost every race.

It was the Dutch GP round 13, Max’s home race. That meant that a lot of his family were present, including his mum and sister. Max did book a place for the four of them to have dinner the day after the race.

Qualifying day. Cecilia was somehow alone at the Mercedes garage sitting at a table in the corner going over some data, the garage was in a state of unusual calm. In a few hours the calm will be gone and the storm will be here. Cecilia was in her own world with her headphones on and focused on the papers in her hands, she was startled when she heard the chair in front of her scrape on the floor as it was dragged. She looked up and her heart dropped, meeting eyes that are familiar in colour but nothing else.

“Mr. Verstappen.” Cecilia has never really spoken to Jos before, not when they were young and certainly not when she got into F1. her headphones were off and the papers on the table facing down.

“Drop the formalities, why are you with my son?” Cecilia was startled to say the least, her eyes moved around the garage, and a couple mechanics eyed the man in suspicion.

“W-what? what do you mean?” This is one of the last things she expected him to ask, to be honest she just expected him to tell her to break up with Max and maybe call her a few names and that’s it.

“You can’t be that slow.” the Dutch glared at Cecilia, she blinked a few times, she was too stunned.

“With all due respect, Mr Verstappen, but the reason I’m dating your son is between me and him.” Cecilia said gaining her bearings, she isn’t about to allow Jos to walk all over her, those days of men disrespecting her and her taking it are over. “But I’m sure you can take out a few things.” Cecilia held his menacing gaze and didnt waver as she started counting on her fingers. “It’s not for money, i have more than enough, it’s not for red bull secrets, I never asked about a single thing about Red Bull, it’s not for attention, no one knows but our friends and family.” She shrugs and laeans back in her chair. “So you can rest assured that I’m not using your son.”

“This is bullshit, you’re trapping him.” Jos pointed his finger at the table, his anger clear as day, he didn’t like her tone and her nonchalant attitude. “And just because your family is okay with this, doesn’t mean that we are.”

“Sophie and Victoria are okay with us, besides-“

“You met them?” He asked in disbelief, he’s usually at every race so it made sense in his mind that he’d be the one to meet Cecilia first.

“Yes.” Cecilia muttered, thinking that maybe it was a bad decision to tell him this.

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“With respect, Mr verstappen, but Max isn’t a child, he knows what’s best for him and he’s a good judge of character.” Cecilia said leaning closer to the table, she never wanted to be on bad terms with Max’s dad, but when he came in with prejudice and his own opinions and notions it was hard not to take the defensive side.

“Jos! I don’t believe you have access to the Mercedes garage.” Cecilia felt a hand on her shoulder, but she didn’t have to look up to see it’s her team principal.

“I was just leaving.” Jos muttered his glare moved from Cecilia to Toto, but the Mercedes principal didn’t let it affect him, family matters always leaves people a bit sensitive.

“Maybe you should trust your son’s judgments.” Toto said for the Dutch as he was leaving, but Jos didn’t react at all to this. “Are you okay, Cece?”

“Yes, thank you.” Cecilia looked up at Toto with a smile of gratitude.

“No worries, some of the mechanics were a bit startled to see Jos here so they called me.” Even if they only called Toto in fear of information being stolen it still made Cecilia feel more welcomed and loved in her new team.

Cecilia took out her phone and pressed Max’s name from her recently called list.

“Cilia, I’m a bit busy.” Max said once he picked up, the only reason he picked up is because they usually never call each other in the middle of working hours only text.

“Sorry, amour but your dad was just here-“

“Did something happen? Did he do something?” Max cuts her off and steps away from his engineers.

“No-no, we talked and I may have said that your mum and victoria know about us and he’s a bit pissed at that.” Cecilia wasn’t about to tell Max everything before quali, they’ll sit down and talk later in her hotel room at the end of the day.

“Anything else happen?” Max asked, he knows how his father can get, there has to be more.

“Nothing that couldn’t wait until tonight.” Cecilia answered him and looks around her garage from her spot in the corner.

“Cilia tell-.”

“Max, nothing will change from now to tonight, you should get back to what you were doing.”

“Okay, but if he comes over again you call me okay?”

“Okay… He'll come around and I love you mon amour.”

“I hope so, and I love you too.”

username1: here's a thread of my fave queen Cecilia killing the fashion game week after week on and off the paddock

She has me on mmy knees

i LOVE her

when said COLOURSSS

more colours

username2: I'm adding some of Cecilia and Nathalie matching outfits bc can cecilia adopt me plz

no bc like i can wash the dishes and do the laundery

Next->

Taglist:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader , @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos . @crashingwavesofeuphoria . @mynameisangeloflife . @mirrorball-6 .

#f1 imagine #my girls #max verstappen #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #f1 scenario #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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rollingsins · 1 year

Text

all hers, part v

summary: Long before she was Ghostface, she was just Tara. The sweet, pretty girl from your chemistry class who brought roses to your first date and promised to love you forever. Tara and reader’s first time. Smut. 18+

warnings: smut, 18+. first-time, vaginal-fingering.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: thought we’d go back a little bit, obviously set before Tara became Ghostface. As always, thanks for all the love and support, and let me know what you want to see next! Ask is always open for suggestions.

It’s your fourth date. Officially.

You’d been going out with Tara for a few weeks now. When she’d first asked you out, all shy smiles and curious, wanting eyes, you couldn’t believe your luck that a girl so pretty wanted to be with you. To be honest, you still couldn’t believe it.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach. She’d invited you over for dinner and movies, not dissimilar to some of the other dates you’d had. Except this time her mom wasn’t home. The way she’d said it, flirty, voice sort of high at the end, has your stomach in knots.

You’d never felt like this around anyone. There had been crushes, sure. A first kiss, first girlfriend for all of three weeks when you were fourteen. But nothing serious. Nothing like this.

Tara made your heart flutter. She made it sing.

You grip your palms, nervously. Knock swiftly on the door.

Tara answers almost immediately.

Her hair is down, she’s wearing an apron. She smiles, wide, greets you with a kiss.

“Hi.”

You hover in the doorway, trying to conceal the goofy smile that wants to overtake your entire face. She holds out her hand, and you take it as she leads you through the house and into the kitchen.

“I cooked for us.” She says. She looks a little bashful. It smells amazing. Sundried tomatoes and chicken, pasta simmering on the stove.

“I didn’t know you could cook.”

But of course she could. She was perfect.

“Well, my mom’s not really home that much, so I learned pretty early on.” She shrugs. She lets go of your hand to stir one of the pots. Looks over at you, coy, “Worked out well though, all the girls seem to like it.”

“All the girls, huh?” You tease. She looks back at you, her smile shy.

“Well. One girl. Hopefully.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a small smile on her lips.

You reach into your bag, hold out a bottle of your Dad’s finest red. Stolen from his cabinet. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“I brought wine.”

Tara’s midway pouring out two glasses when it happens. The house creaks a gentle groan, then the lights flicker. The power’s out.

You stand a moment, blink into the darkness.

“Fuck.”

You can make out her silhouette in the darkness. She fumbles around for her phone, presses the flashlight.

“The food.”

The stovetop is out, you watch as Tara flashes the light across the chicken. Half-cooked.

“Perfect.”

“Maybe it’s the fuse?” You suggest, trying to be helpful. Tara flashes the light out the window. All the neighbors are dark too.

“Shit.”

She fumbles around the drawers, drawing out some candles. Lights a couple, illuminating the room. She looks so pretty in the candlelight, is all you can think. Mused hair, pink lips, a little flour on her cheeks from the food.

She turns back at you, chewing her lip. Her pretty brown eyes are wide, mournful.

“Well, that’s dinner gone.” She looks over to the living room, as if she’s just realizing, “And the power’s out so no movie.”

She looks upset. “I’m sorry, YN. Tonight was supposed to be perfect and now it's all ruined.”

“Hey.” You touch her arm, move a little closer, “It’s not ruined. As long as I’m with you, it’s perfect. Alright?”

She looks back at you doubtful.

“We have no food.”

‘That’s not true.” You say. Out of the corner of your eye you spot some bread on the counter. You move to it, help yourself to a couple of plates. “We’ve got bread. Do you have peanut butter? Jelly?”

She bites her lip.

“PB&J?” She asks. “That’s not very romantic.”

Butterflies flutter in your chest. She wants it to be romantic. Of course she does, idiot, you scold yourself, it’s a date. You feel your cheeks getting hot.

“But a PB&J by candlelight is very romantic.” You assure her, a little thankful she can’t see how your cheeks burn in the darkness. “With wine, don’t forget.”

A smile plays on her lips.

“Second drawer on the right.” Is all she says.

She might be a better cook than you, you reason as you slap peanut butter all over the bread, but nobody beats your PB&J’s. When you’re finished, she’s poured out two glasses of wine, gestures for you to follow her past the dining room table.

Her house is nice, much nicer than yours. All high ceilings and leather furniture. This room is maybe the most impressive room, a long, cobbled fireplace sits in its center.

“We were going to eat at the table,” She tells you, setting down the glasses. She reaches for a throw on the back of one of the sofa’s. Lays it down on the floor, right in front of the fireplace, “But this is better. Like our own little picnic.”

She takes the plates off you, lowers them to the floor.

“Here.”

She’s holding out her hand for you, helping lower you onto the floor.

“Do you know how to do that?” You ask, a little concerned with the way she fumbles with the firewood.

“Yeah. My sister taught me.” She assures. She strikes a match, drops it against the wood. It flashes alight, the immediate smell of smoky wood fills the room. She looks back at you, smiling as she settles down next to you.

You hand her the sandwich, push the edge of your crust into hers.

“Cheers.��

You take a small bite, watches as she does the same.

Lean against your hand. She mirrors you, lets the tip of her pinky brush yours. Electricity flows through you.

The fire burns bright. You’re talking about school when she kisses you. Suddenly, out of nowhere, like she can’t control herself any longer. The surprised gasp that slips from your lips lasts only a moment, before you’re dropping your sandwich to the floor in favor of threading your fingers through her hair.

You kiss for a while, a familiar heat rising in your stomach. You’d often end up this way, making out desperately in the middle of your dates. This time feels different. It feels more urgent, feverish. You shiver as she pulls back, looks into your eyes.

The way she looks in the firelight, lips parted slightly, red and swollen. Beautiful brown eyes, wide and wanting. You want all of her. You want to give her all of you.

You swallow hard.

“Tara-” You trail off, a little nervous. How do you tell someone you want to give them your virginity?

She leans up to you, brushes the hair off your face with her fingers. You lick your lips. She wants it too, you can see it in her eyes.

“I’ve never-” You swallow. She’s staring at your lips.

“Me either.”

“Should we-”

“Yes.”

You sigh as she crashes into you. All lips and tongue and roaming hands. She’s pressing you back into the rug. Her weight on top of you feels impossibly good. The butterflies in your stomach are gone, instead fireworks explode, electrifying every part of you. Your body thrums hot, cheeks flushed with an uncontrollable desire for her. Her hands roam down your body, a little nervous, apprehensive, like she isn’t quite sure what she’s doing.

She’s gripping the top of your jeans, with her fingers, pulling back from your lips just long enough to ask the question with her eyes.

God, yes.

You nod, and she lets out a breathy, excited little noise as she fumbles with the button of your jeans. It’s not slick at all, it takes almost twenty seconds; her hands are shaking, but the look in her eyes when she’s sliding them down your legs makes it more than worth it.

“Yours too.” You murmur, sitting up slightly to reach for the button of her pants. You’re quicker, help her out of them within seconds. She’s pressing back into your lips, climbing into your lap. The feel of your hands on her bare thighs makes your head spin, her weight in your lap makes you throb between your legs. Your kisses are getting sloppier, more feverish as you pull the rest of each other’s clothes off.

When she unclips your bra, your breasts spilling out, her pupils dilate.

“Oh my god.” She says as she reaches up to take one in her hands. Her fingers immediately find your nipples. She dips down, takes one between her lips. You moan, the sensation new, and sexy. Her mouth is hot and wanting, her tongue flicking gently against your pebbled nipples. She works them in her mouth for a few moments before you’re tugging her back with impatience, wanting your turn.

Hers are a little smaller than yours, but her nipples are just as hard. Your mouth waters as you take one between your lips, suckling gently. Her fingers thread through your hair, she lets out a tiny moan. You hold her by her hips, licking and sucking. When you trail kisses back up to her lips, she’s looking down at you with dark, hooded eyes.

The warmth of the fireplace and her body combined as you flushed red. She pushes you down onto your back, hands wandering as she kisses you.

When her fingers hook your panties, your breath catches in your throat.

She tugs them down your legs, her eyes on yours. As she tosses them away you reach for hers.

She slips her thigh between your legs, groans as her lips crash onto yours.

You gasp. Her wet heat against your thigh, yours on hers. No barriers between you anymore, just you and her, naked and entwined in each other. The lights dimmed, illuminated only by the light of the fire and the candles.

She grinds against your leg for a moment.

The sensation is unreal. Her weight, impossibly good on you, the soft heat of her bare skin. Her desperate lips pressing hot kisses to your lips. Her excitement drizzling all over your leg.

Her hands are on your thighs, prying them open. She bites her lip as she settles in between them, hands roaming from the outside of your thighs to the inside.

Your hands are around her neck, keeping her close enough to kiss.

“Can I touch you, baby?” She whispers against your lips, breathless. You nod wildly.

“Please.”

It isn’t like when you touch yourself.

Her fingers brush across your slit, gently probing, exploring. She gathers the wetness from your entrance, rubs it down the length of you, her mouth open, eyes filled with desire.

She circles your clit, a little jerky. The moan that escapes your mouth is out of your control. She leans down into you, kisses you as she continues movements.

Small circles at first, warming you up. Everything feels hot: the heat of the fireplace, her swollen lips against yours, the burn of your cheeks. You clutch onto her shoulders, gasp as she dips her fingers lower, teasing your entrance.

When she hooks her finger up, slipping a single digit into your wet heat, you both moan.

Her eyebrows knit together. Your heart is thrumming, you think it might burst out of your chest. She’s knuckle deep inside you, the tip of her finger hitting your g-spot perfectly.

“You’re so tight.” She marvels with wonder. Her voice is throaty and low. “Fuck.”

She moves her hand slightly, movements a little jilted, unsure. You gasp as she hits your spot just right.

“Is this okay?” She asks, “I’m not hurting you?”

You shake your head, bite your lip.

“No.” You say, “That feels so good. More please, baby.”

She complies. Another finger sinks inside of you, stretching you out. She kisses you, tilting her fingers in and out, her pace glacial. Your fingernails sink into the bare skin of her back, trying to take her deeper. Your lips against her neck, groaning into her skin.

Her confidence is rising, the longer she’s in you. She’s paying close attention to the way you clench around her, the noises you make when she thrusts a little harder. It isn’t long before you’re rutting against her, orgasm building.

“I’m going to cum.” You gasp out, right before it happens. Your body goes stiff against her as it washes over you. You moan, low and steady, as it overtakes your entire body, from the tips of your ears to the bottom of your heels. She kisses you through it.

You slump back onto the floor. She presses a gentle kiss to your chest, slowly withdrawing her fingers. When you look up at her, she has her own fingers in her mouth, sucking off your wetness. Her eyes black with want.

You swallow. Arousal surges through you.

Before your mind can even register, you’re reaching up for her, tilting her back onto the floor. You spread her legs with your knees, only one thing on your mind.

She looks a little surprised, but her expression quickly changes to pure want the moment your fingers brush her.

Your heart is hammering again, lump in your throat. You are still so painfully turned on. Feeling her slick heat beneath your fingers only makes you want her more. You’ve done this to yourself before, so it isn’t totally new, only she feels so much better. She’s sticky, so wet, so warm. You graze your fingertips over her clit, watch the way her mouth opens, her eyes close as you tease her entrance.

When you sink inside of her for the first time, it’s like an out of body experience. Warm, wet heat encompasses you. She grips your fingers, like her pussy is trying to keep you in place, exactly where you belong. She lets out a small, breathy gasp each time you curl your fingers up into her. She looks perfect: laid out before you, nipples hard, lips swollen, pussy dripping wet under your fingers.

You tell her so, lean down to kiss her.

She sighs up into your mouth.

You build a steady pace, copy what she’d done on you. It isn’t long at all before you can feel how desperate she’s getting, clawing at you, pussy tightening around your fingers. When she cums, she groans, low, cunt squeezing your fingers, eyes pressed tightly shut.

It’s gorgeous. Beautiful.

You want to do this forever.

You kiss her through her orgasm, slow down as she breathes, her grip on you loosening. When you slip out of her, she grips onto you tight, pulls you down on top of her.

Your fingers are soaked. You bring them to your lips. Her scent is overwhelming, so good it makes your mouth water. She’s bitter, it makes your tongue sting pleasantly, watering for more.

You lean down against her chest, let her shift slightly. She cradles you against her.

Her heartbeat is slowing down. You entwine your fingers with hers, close your eyes.

You feel her lips against the top of your head.

“That was-” She trails off. Squeezes your body slightly.

“Amazing.” You finish for her. “We’re so doing that again. And again. And again.”

She chuckles. You open your eyes, watch as the fireplace flickers in front of you, burning its last log.

All you can feel is the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes against you. The smell of her skin as you breathe her in. Your eyes droop, as her fingertips rub gentle circles on her scalp.

Maybe this is what falling in love feels like.

Next part

#ghostface!tara #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #scream #fanfiction #mine #ah

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