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koemiexists · 2 months

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Perfect Gift | Alastor x Fem Reader

summary: you receive a gift from alastor after residing in the hotel for a month word count: 3.7k tags: smut, cream pie, voice kink, love bites

Recently, you have been noticing just how enchanting Pentagram City is, with the way it seemed to pull you forward. Residing in the Pride Ring as a sinner, you never got to see past that ring.

Nothing was truly new, except for what was occurring around the Morningstar District, as some sinners pegged it. You usually reside in the inner city, near the Heaven Ambasade.

Towards the border of the Morningstar District, on an elevated ground was what seemed to be a hotel, and you could just barely make out the words. Hazbin Hotel .

It seemed interesting, it intrigued you. And the best part, it was something new.

Now, if you were one for TV, you’d probably have heard about the Hotel way sooner from a news reporter Katie Killjoy, but you find it much more fascinating to listen to the radio, old fashion, but it’s something you enjoyed.

You guess that if it wasn’t for your constant urge to try new things, you likely wouldn’t have ended up in this mess. Yet, you can’t find it in yourself to hate where you turned up.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” A feminine voice said, and you thought you could vaguely hear just how bright it was. You watched as Charlie Morningstar, the princess of Hell, next to the throne, jumped in your space, her eyes shining. “Are you a wayward sinner in hopes of being redeemed!? Are you here for a chance to make it to Heaven, to have your soul be cleansed of your sins?”

Redemption? You weren't too sure it was possible, but if Charlie, the daughter of Lucifer, believed it so wholeheartedly... Perhaps there was a chance.

“I never really thought about being redeemed,” You admit quietly, looking up at the tall hellborn. Why was she so tall? Was her father even taller then? Your internal dialogue was cut short when she gasped.

“No? Never?” She inquired, bending her knees slightly, her eyes crinkling a bit knowingly at your height difference predicament.

Truly is the daughter of the Devil , you thought with a frown. “No, not really. I came here because I was interested, if I’m being honest.” You felt embarrassed, you didn’t want to turn away after how excited Charlie seemed. “But... now that you mention it, I wouldn’t mind being redeemed.”

Charlie’s smile grew wider, and with a tug, you found yourself in the hotel, feeling a bit dizzy, albeit excited at what you were getting into.

You saw her take a deep breath, and gather the other members around. “This is Vaggie-” A young woman comes into view, and you furrow your brows, wondering why she looks different from the others you see in Hell. Almost like an-

“Angel Dust is the name! Nice to meet ya, toots,” A spider looking demon grins at you, and you felt your face flush, knowing exactly where you heard the name, and saw him from. You never watched his porn movies voluntarily, but you have heard about him countless times from your coworkers.

Charlie smiles, and points towards a bar. “There’s Husk, and we have our maid, Nifty!”

“Forgetting someone?” Vaggie mentioned, rolling her eye.

The woman furrowed her brows, wondering just who she was missing. “Oh! You’re right! I don’t know where he is right now, but there’s also Alastor, our facility manager!”

At that moment, you felt a presence behind you, yelping as you fell. From the ground, an inky darkness rose into the form of a tall demon, a large grin present on his face. “You called?” He spoke, and you felt a sharp tingle go through your body at the sound of his voice, staticky but also pleasant.

Charlie smiled. “Yup, that’s Alastor!” She spoke, helping you up.

“Ah- Nice to meet you all. I’m (Name).” You spoke, feeling shaken up still.

“(Name)?” Alastor spoke, his grin widening as he walked over to you. “Well it is just a pleasure to be meeting you. You’re here to be redeemed, dear?” He questioned, and you can only mumble a yes, cheeks flushing.

Charlie was about to speak again, before her phone rang loudly, and she let out a quiet groan. “Who is... Dad? Ugh, alright! Vaggie, Alastor, can you please show (Name) around? And (Name), sorry for not being the one to give you a tour! I have to take this call.” She gave you an apologetic smile, before walking off, answering the phone.

You notice Vaggie had an annoyed expression, but it was quickly wiped off as she turned to you. “Well let’s get this tour going. At the end we’ll show you your quarters, (Name).”

“Alright,” Smiling, you follow Vaggie, keenly aware of Alastor trailing behind you two.

“...And this is the kitchen, Nifty usually cooks, but as long as you aren’t absolutely horrible at it, we don’t mind if you use it. Here’s-” Vaggie pauses, taking out her phone, squinting her eye at it. “Sorry,” She apologized, as she backed up. “Charlie needs me right now. Alastor? Finish the tour for (Name), please.”

With that she left, leaving just you and Alastor, whose grin sharpened. “Well, it’s just you and me now!” He laughed, beginning to walk forward as you trailed behind.

You stayed silent, before your curiosity fully peaked, leaving you unable to keep your mouth shut. “Your cane,” You started, feeling Alastor’s gaze on you even though you were looking down. “What’s it for?”

“What do you think it is for?” He questioned back, watching as you fumbled your words.

“Well- I just thought it was for aesthetics-”

Alastor let out a laugh. “Only for appearances? Well darling, it allows me to broadcast my voice.”

Your brows furrow, confused. “Is that all it does?” You inquire, wondering if you’ll get more information. “Wait- broadcast...?”

His smile broadens as he watches you expressively piece it together. “I heard your broadcasts before!” You sputtered, and then you froze. “Oh my gosh. You’re the Radio Demon , aren’t you...”

“Correct! I am.” He said with glee, as he opened a door, pointing inside with his cane. “A gentleman will never enter a woman’s quarters without permission,” Alastor spoke, looking at you.

“This is my room...? Already?” You murmured, as you walked in, noting how it was already furnished.

Alastor let out a huff of laughter, the radio effect increasing slightly. “Darling, you didn’t seriously expect many sinners to be rushing to reside here, now do you?”

You frown, crossing your arms. “Charlie believes in this idea. Who's to say it’s not a possibility? Being redeemed seems far-fetched, yes, but I’ll gladly try and be cleansed of my sins then spit in her idea.”

“Would you still think that way?~” He sing-songed, grinning. “Charlie’s way is less than conventional, you’ll see. But if you truly wish to reside here in the path of redemption... Well, who am I to stop you?” Alastor leaned in, patting your head. Then he seemingly melted into that inky darkness you saw, watching as it went down the hall.

“Weird.” You huffed, rubbing your eyes. You were exhausted, mentally and physically, and the fluffy bed seemed to be calling your name.

“(Name)!” Charlie yelled, watching as you yelped, falling from your bed. “Great, you’re awake.”

You grumbled softly. “Only because you yelled. I was sleeping, peacefully.”

She grinned. “Not anymore. Besides, it’s good to be an early riser!”

The princess helped you up, and began going through your closet. “I think you’re due for a trip outside the hotel. You have clothes, but...” Charlie frowned, wrinkling her nose as she took out an article of clothing that was at least a few hundred years old. “They’re old.”

“Yeah,” You yawned. “It’s ‘cause I never made enough truly besides the necessities. I couldn’t really splurge.”

Charlie gasped, turning to you. “You couldn’t? Well- we need you to! This is actually sad.” She began to think, before snapping her fingers. “Don’t worry, I know who you can borrow some clothes from!”

“Who?” You questioned, watching as Charlie tapped rapidly at her phone, then pocketing it.

Your door opened, and you watched as Vaggie walked in, holding a few pieces of clothing. “(Name), you need some new clothes.” She said, glancing at the battered clothes. “Jeez. Your clothes are actually ugly.”

“Vaggie!” Charlie huffed, and her girlfriend smiled a little, pecking her cheek. “A kiss isn’t going to change the fact you said something so mean!” She squawked.

You groaned. “Let’s just move on from my wardrobe, alright?”

Vaggie shrugged, putting down the clothes on your bed. “Here. You’re lucky we’re roughly the same height and size.”

Grasping the soft clothes, you note how they were very feminine. “You have pretty taste.” You remarked quietly, as you pulled at the dressing screen.

She let out a laugh. “Thanks, (Name). I’d say the same but-” “Vaggie-!”

“-I would need to see more of your clothes.” Vaggie finished wryly, smirking.

You huffed, even though truly, you were amused. Opening your mouth to speak again, you fell silent when a knock was heard on the door.

You heard Charlie get up, opening the door slightly. “Yes?”

“Is (Name) there?” You heard Angel ask, and you felt relieved.

“Uhm..” Charlie bit her lip, unsure if you wanted him to come in.

You pulled the clothing screen back, revealing the flowy skirt paired with a tight blouse. “Charlie, it’s okay! Angel can come in. I’m finished changing anyways.”

Angel sauntered in, stretching. “Look at you, toots. You look awfully dolled up for how you usually dress.”

Vaggie snorted, as she got up, walking towards the door. “Charlie made her change. She had to borrow my clothes.” She said, grinning. “Anyways, Charlie and I will be downstairs if you need us, (Name).”

You watched the couple wave, shutting your bedroom door closed afterwards.

“So,” Angel started, smirking.

You quirked a brow, sitting down on your bed. “So,” You repeated back, folding your arms.”

He grinned. “It’s been a few weeks, how are you feelin’ staying in this hotel?”

That was something you were thinking about. It was amazing to be able to live here without needing to pay money. It also helped how nice Charlie and Vaggie were to you.

What also was good was just how pleasant it was to listen to Alastor speak. You hid your radio in your drawer almost always, but when you heard the little crackle that was the tell-tale sign he was live, you always tuned in.

“Good.” You said simply, smiling. “I like it here enough. It’s nice to be around welcoming people too.”

Angel laughed, moving to sit next to you, laying his head on your lap. “Does getting horny at Alastor’s voice also help?” He asked casually, laughing louder as you squeaked and pushed him off.

“I do not get horny at his voice!”

“No?” Angel probed, watching as you got even more flustered.

“Let’s just go.” You muttered, embarrassed and flushed from just the thought. Angel only smirked, walking with you down the stairs.

It’s something that became a bit of a routine, Angel joking with you about you being attracted to Alastor’s voice, and you fervently denying it, despite it being the truth.

And then one day, while you were out with Charlie to run errands, Angel slipped up.

Alastor was already quite interested in the fact you hung out with him so frequently, especially since he only made idle chat with you, and on rare occasions sought out to make a deal for your soul.

You always declined, knowing that making a deal with Alastor would be a terrible choice, as Husk told you.

So when Angel began to talk about you to Husk in a drunken haze, he found it to be a perfect opportunity to learn more about you.

“So,” Angel spoke, slurring his words only lightly. “(Name) fell into a puddle of someone’s vomit! She told me how embarrassed she was! I told her she wasn’t alone, and how I slipped on some dude’s jizz once, but she just argued how it wasn’t the same.”

Husk snorted. “It really isn’t. One is gross, and the other is because you’re a pornstar who actually deals with bodily fluids like jizz.”

Angel rolled his eyes, drinking some more alcohol. “It’s the same sentiment though! That shit hurts. Plus, it was sticky, which is gross.”

Alastor felt his eyes twitch, ready to slink away to do something more productive, before he heard Angel speak up again.

“Hey Whiskers, did I tell you about something (Name) doesn’t tell anyone ? I only figured it out by observing!”

It was obvious Husk wanted to stop Angel from spilling your secrets, but he was also curious. “No, what happened?”

Leaning in, Angel spoke in a voice that meant to be hushed, but was regular in volume. “She finds Alastor’s voice attractive! Like, she gets absolutely flustered when listening to his broadcast- she hides a radio she owns in her drawer. She uses it only to listen to him. Isn’t that crazy?”

Alastor let out a quiet hum, static filling in the air as he slipped into the darkness, ready to use this new information.

You were exhausted from the outing with Charlie, but she insisted, stating how “a new resident’s idea on things will benefit the hotel in the future!”

You wish you told her you didn’t want to, but it was Charlie, and she would have just sang to you in order to convince you. And needless to say, you didn’t want her singing. Slumping in your bed, you cuddled against the comforters, fully about to drift off to sleep, before you heard a light noise. Groaning, you turned over, refusing to get up, until you felt a presence. Jolting up, you saw Alastor, who was grinning widely at you.

“And I thought the new resident was sleeping peacefully!” He laughed, twirling his cane. “Looks like she’s fully awake instead.”

You huffed. “What do you need, Alastor? I’m tired, Charlie dragged me all around Pentagram City.”

He smirked, sitting on the bed. “Well, I thought that you needed a gift.”

“Gift?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Why do I need a gift?”

“You don’t even know?” Alastor’s voice was self-satisfied as he pulled out a calendar from nowhere, tapping on it. “It’s your full month being here! That calls for a gift, don’t you think?”

You narrowed your eyes. “No.” You said flatly.

“So hostile!” He laughed, grinning even wider. “Well dear, I think you deserve one. Especially with how sweet you are to others. Almost rivaling Ms. Morningstar!”

“I don’t believe so,” You sighed. “Charlie is insanely nice. I think I’m only a fraction of how nice she is. And I think I’m just okay to be around, everyone else is too abrasive.”

Alastor leaned closer, his smile toothy. “Abrasive? Such a big word! Only fitting for a knowledgeable lady like yourself, hmm? Although, I think you’re only so informed and enlightened by a certain radio broadcast, don’t you think so?”

You felt your blood run cold, as you slowly turned to Alastor, who’s smile widened even more at your fearful expression. “What are you talking about?” You whispered.

“What do you mean dear?” He asked, the static increasing in his voice again. “The fact that you have a radio hidden in your drawer, that you use to listen to me whenever I begin to broadcast,” He said, leaning over you as your breath began to pick up. “Or the fact you get aroused at hearing me speak? Is that why you come to me so much? To listen to me speak?”

Your breath hitched, and Alastor laughed. “Oh, it is! Aren’t you the naughty doe? Getting riled up over the sound of my voice...” He hummed, and you felt him begin to unbutton your pajama top. “Say, do you touch yourself to my voice? When I start my radio show late at night, do you wake up just to listen in?”

“I-” You let out a small whimper, arousal pooling in your lower belly as he rubbed light circles on your hips. “Sometimes-! Only some- only a little.” You spoke, fast and hushed as you gripped his arms. “Alastor-”

He smirked. “Let this be your gift, for being here for a month.” Alastor said shortly, pushing your top off. Your breath hitched, but you can’t find yourself to feel uncomfortable or angry, you wanted this so badly. To have a night with Alastor, to feel his touch in an intimate way.

“Alastor,” You spoke breathily, as he slipped his hand underneath your pajama shorts, rubbing at your wet slit.

You felt hot, your body responding to his touches extremely well, like it was made to be touched by him.

Alastor bit at your collarbone, laving his tongue over the bite, growling lightly at the taste of blood. “Look at you. Look how your body responds to me.” His voice lost some of its static, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sound.

He laughed, and began to work a finger inside you, thrusting in and out, curling it against the spongy part deep within you.

“Wow, you really do like my voice. You have a voice kink, (Name)? Want me to groan in your ear?” He questioned, smirking as he bit lightly on your lobe.

You huffed, moaning as quietly as you could, rolling your hips into his hand. “Damn it, Alastor.” You choked, grasping at the sheets underneath you. “ Fuck - please, please just...”

He leaned closer, obviously waiting for you to say what you wanted. “Just...?”

“Shit! Fuck me? Please?” You whimpered, an embarrassing high pitch whine emitting from you as he removed his finger.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? I didn’t even put two fingers in you! Look at just how much arousal is covering my finger.” Alastor licked his finger, laughing.

You mewled pitifully, needing him badly. “Fuck you,” You groaned, trying to get him to just fuck you.

Alastor let out a haughty cackle, unzipping his trousers as he pulled your hips against him. “Are you ready, darling? You wanted this so bad.”

Letting out another whine, you nod, watching as Alastor kissed and bit at your chest.

Then, in one swift motion you felt him enter you, filing you to the absolute brim. You moaned loudly, wrapping your legs around his waist, eyes shutting close as you tried to steady your breathing.

“When I fuck you,” Alastor began, his voice sharp as his hand gripped you chin, forcing you to look at him. The pain was slight, but enough for you to let out a quiet whimper. “You will look at me when I do so. You understand, (Name)?”

“Yes,” You stutter out, your walls fluttering around his cock.

Alastor hummed, waiting as he watched you tremble and try to fuck yourself onto him, a smug grin present on his face. “My poor doe,” He cooed, his voice crackling with static as he pinched your nipple. You yelped, and he laughed, kissing your neck, the very same spot he bit.

“Hungry for me to fuck you dumb, hm? You really are a whore for me.” He murmured, kissing your lips lightly before he gripped your thighs, pulling out almost completely.

“Don’t worry my doe, I’ll make sure you get what you want.” He breathed out, his voice slightly deeper as he slammed back in you, the headboard hitting the wall roughly as his fingers clawed into your hip.

You cried out loudly, pussy dripping all over his pelvis as he repeated the motions, rough thrusts into your willing body. “Alastor, Christ!”

He let out a quiet growl, snapping his hips into your body at a faster pace.

“The only name you shall evoke is mine. Understand?” He spoke harshly as the ever present grin became strained, the static in his voice and around him increasing as he grasped your face, staring into your eyes.

You moaned loudly, nodding pitifully, and he smirked. “Good girl.”

Alastor began to maneuver you while thrusting slowly, your ankles pressing against his shoulders instead of his waist. He pressed a hand against your abdomen, moving at a bit faster pace, a groan escaping him. “You’re being such a good girl. ” Alastor groaned, right in your ear, and burst, whining loudly.

His own breath hitched, as he kept thrusting in your spasming heat, sucking a large bruise on your neck.

You felt your energy drain from you, overstimulated and sensitive after your orgasm, yet Alastor didn’t seem done with you yet. Groaning, you tried to pull away, legs shaking from the continued stimulation at your groin.

“You aren’t truly that foolish, right (Name)?” Alastor laughed, swiping his fingers at his tongue, before rubbing tight circles onto your clit, watching as you jerked from his touch.

Almost as if you got electrocuted, you let out a wail, pushing with all your might to get some reprieve, but the pain felt almost too good. Alastor bit your lip lightly, snickering when you began to orgasm again, squirting all over his pelvis and the bed sheets.

You jolted, twitching lightly as Alastor buried himself deep, kissing you passionately as he came inside you. You couldn’t find any stamina to pull away and turn, fully relying on the radio demon to help you.

He let out a low cackle, pulling out and zipping his trousers up again. Despite the obvious spot at his crotch from your squirting, he decided he’ll resolve it later, tucking you into bed. “Hope you enjoyed your gift, my little doe.” He murmured, fixing his hair.

“Hey, (Name)! What’s all the noise?” Charlie came bounding into your room, freezing at the sight of Alastor.

Vaggie came behind Charlie, immediately falling into a fighting stance when she noticed Alastor as well.

“Uh... Alastor,” Charlie started, trying to smile casually. “What are you doing in (Name)’s room...? And uhm, why does it smell like that?”

Alastor laughed, his expression smug. “I just gave (Name) a gift, that’s all! She’ll be fine, maybe a little sore.” He turned to you, his expression softening just a tiniest bit. “Well, ladies, I’m off to do a radio broadcast! I’ll see you two in the morning.”

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brodieland · 2 months

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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Bad Idea? Maybe.´ˎ˗

Percy Jackson x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader Synopsis: An Aphrodite kid is more interested in fighting than lip gloss. What happens when a Poseidon boy starts a fight with her? Warning(s): cursing? Word Count: 1851

Aphrodite kids were most known for their looks. Whether it was them admiring themselves in any possible reflection or having a bunch of other little fans, Aphrodite kids are here to take pride in the gift their mother has granted them. They were never ones to be advanced in archery or sword fighting in the fear of messing up a nail or getting a scratch on their perfect skin.

Except you. Despite being an Aphrodite kid, tending to your looks wasn't your biggest priority, you always considered yourself pleasing to the eye and so did others. Once you got to camp and saw people sword fighting, you knew that's what you were meant to do, you were instantly gravitated toward it like a magnet.

Of course, when you first arrived, you weren't claimed, so like most others, were sent to the Hermes cabin where the head counselor Luke, showed you around. Before the both of you managed to step out of the cabin you immediately asked him to show you to the practice arena where people were sword fighting. When you both arrived, that's when you met a kid named Percy. Luke saw it as a relief since he had other duties to quickly attend to so he left you with him.

"Hey I'm Percy" he extended his hand.

"I'm Y/N, I just got here" you shook his hand.

"I can you show some basics of sword fighting if you want, but Lukes the real master at it. Best at camp" Percy boasted, he clearly admired him from what you gathered.

"Cool, I'm new at this so you could've really told me that anyone here was the best and I would've take your word for it" he let out a small laugh. You felt a little relieved when he did. At first you were nervous on arriving but you were slowly staring to feel better about it.

Percy went to grab a sword for you, but the second he handed it to you a light pink aura began to radiate from you. When you looked up you saw a dove, meaning you were claimed by Aphrodite. Before you had the chance to think about it, a bunch of your, now sisters, ran up to you to escort you to your new cabin for a makeover and gossip session. In the process you dropped your sword and was dragged from Percy.

While you were getting your makeup and nails down, you could listen in on the swords clanking together as people fought and harnessed their skills outside. You were feeling kinda jealous, you wanted to be out there, not here getting ready for nothing when you already thought of yourself as pretty. After an hour they were finally finished and were all simultaneously staring in their reflections whilst listening to Lana Del Rey. You took this chance to sneak out and run back to where people were training, you saw Percy was still there and ran up to him.

"Hey, your still here" you said to Percy, breathing a little heavier from your run.

"Oh hey, so I guess you slipped from your siblings clutches" Percy joked making you exhale loudly.

"You would not even believe" you shook the thought of having a girl redo the same nail eight times because she kept messing it up and getting slightly burned at the back of your neck with a straightener. "Anyways I was wondering if you'd still be up for giving me some lessons. You know, the basics" you asked.

"Wow an Aphrodite kid who wants to fight, you might be the first. Why even bother now" Percy joked making you roll your eyes.

"Hey, I think love and desire can play a bigger role in fighting then you realize" you informed while crossing your arms and quirking up your eyebrow.

"Interesting, how so" Percy questioned.

"Maybe we'll find out later, now pass me sword."

Percy began showing you the basics and continued to do so for the next few months. Over this time you began to get better and better at fighting. Percy would call you best in your cabin as a joke since none of your siblings ever feel like picking up weapons and actually practicing.

Naturally over these few months, you also began getting closer to Percy. Your sisters loved to pick and prod at the, as they call it, budding relationship you and Percy had. The two of you just saw each others as friends, at least that's what you told your sisters. The friendship the two of you really had was more flirty if anything, because at the end of the day you'd be lying to yourself and everyone around if you said you didn't think Percy was hot. He really was.

After a solid six months, at least when it came to girls you were one of the best sword fighters at camp. You were out almost every day having training sessions whether it was with Percy or alone. This day in particular was alone. No one else was out so you had all the dummies to your self, cutting them up and chopping their heads off like it was nothing.

"And how did I know I'd find you here" Percy announced from behind you making you slightly jump.

"Because your so obsessed with me and have my schedule memorized" you humored as you looked at him over your shoulder.

"Your hilarious, has any one of your ass-kissers told you that today" Percy bantered.

"Yeah actually he just did" you returned making him roll his eyes. You both chuckled as he went and picked up a sword.

"Fight me." Hm?

"What?"

"I said," Percy raised his sword at you. "Fight me."

"Alright. You asked for it" you amused as you both took your places.

"What makes you think I'll lose"

"What makes you think I won't win" and with that you lunged forward and swung. Percy barely blocked as he jumped back. For the next few minutes the both of you were swinging and dodging with ease. That's the problem with trying to fight someone whom you've been training with for months, they know all your moves. The both of you had your blades pressed up against each other when Percy mustered up the strength to push you off and lashed at you.

"Shit, I'm sorry" you looked at him confused before he gestured downward, looking kind of nervous. When he slashed at you, he had created a giant rip in your shirt and absolute exposed your bra. Normally, you would've been embarrassed, but you had an idea to finally end and win the fight.

"Your acting like you don't like what your seeing right now" you boldly stated as you took whats left of the shirt off, now standing there in just your denim shorts and bra.

"No, no. Trust me I'm a fan" he eyed you up and down.

"Remember what I said to you when you first asked me why an Aphrodite kid would bother learning to fight?" You said as you watched him start getting redder.

"Um, yeah, I do" Percy was switching eye contact between you and your cleavage, trying not to make it obvious.

"I think your desire for me is clouding your judgement, clouding whether or not you still want to fight me."

"I think that might be.. kind of true right now" normally you would've been happy with an easy win, but you wanted to really earn your victory. You looked to your side and picked up your water bottle from the floor, opening it up, and dumping the fresh water on Percy.

"Too bad" you winked. "I want to really win." After that, you charged at Percy again, and if it wasn't for the water you dumped on him he probably wouldn't have blocked in time. You guys went back to swinging at each other but this time, you were the one who pushed him back. You took the chance while he was unbalanced to quickly get low to swing out your foot and kick the back of his ankles, leaving him flat on his ass. Before he had the time to react you quickly straddled him, pinning him down while pointing your sword at his neck.

"I win" you said in between breathes. Percy just smiled at you, clearly not upset at losing. The tension in the area was think. The combination of you both panting for air, you in your bra, and the position the both of you were in made the place suffocating.

Percy slid his hands upward on your thighs before saying "Congrats."

"So what? No victory kiss?" you said. And Percy didn't take another second before sitting up and engulfing you in a heated kiss. You both continued making out while Percy kept one hand in your hair while he leaned back and used his other arm to lean on. You began to move back and forth while your hands gripped on to Percy's Shirt, he shortly took the hint and slipped it off. After a few moments you heard someone shout your name, causing the both of you to shoot upward.

"Shit, I think that's one of my sisters" you said quickly.

"Here take this" Percy said while handing you his shirt. "I think this sight should be reserved for me" he winked at you, making you feel a little warm as you slipped on his shirt. It smelled like him. You stood up from your comfortable seat and extended your hand to Percy and helped him up. And at that moment one of your sisters, Silena, had finally found you.

"Hey Y/-" her eyes widen as she looked between you and Percy. "Oh my gods" she whispered as she ran off laughing. Oh no.

"Oh my gods" you said has you rubbed his temples. "She's such a little gossip, you know that?"

Percy just laughed at you. "Now I'm not gonna have to watch your fans try and be me, yet fail miserably" that made you laugh.

"You were my favorite one anyways. Literally my biggest, number one fan" you pointed the number one in his face. He swatted it away and held your hand in his for a second before letting go.

"I think it's time I head out and, you know, grab a shirt." Percy expressed.

"I mean I don't know" you eyed him up and down. "I'm kind of enjoying this sight right now."

"Am I being objectified right now" Percy gasped and placed his hand on his chest, fake shock flooding his features.

"Oh never. I'm just sharing an opinion" you quipped.

"Yeah yeah, anyways I've gotta go" Percy kissed your forehead before heading off. You smiled and made your way back to your cabin. When you made your way through the door, all your sisters were there. They all simultaneously turned to you with devilish smiles on their faces. One thing for sure is, just because they can't fight, doesn't mean Aphrodite kids aren't scary.

"That shirt doesn't really look like your size Y/N."

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson pjo #percy pjo #percy series #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you

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kathaynesart · 8 months

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Replica Anniversary DTIYS!

Well, it was one year ago today that I started Replica! It’s been a wonderful experience so far and I wanted to do something fun to show my appreciation to you all! So in celebration I want to do my very first DTIYS, but we’re going to do this one a little differently.

YOUR MISSION: to design a comic cover for the upcoming Replica Holiday Special that is all about the birth of Casey Jr:

The year is 2028, eight years before the start of Replica. The Central Park Colony is still going strong and the turtles now must protect an expecting Cassandra Jones from the very people they are sworn to defend.

As far as theme that is entirely up to you! I’ve always found comic covers to be fun because they don’t necessarily have to show what happens in the actual story. So if you want Casey Senior holding up Junior on Pride Rock, Lion King style? That’s great. You want to do an epic pose of the turtles battling Krang while trying to defend the Caseys? Perfect. You want to have Casey Junior bursting out of a Krang’s stomach like a Xenomorph??? Okay weird, but I’ll accept it so long as it’s not too gory! Also the cover doesn’t have to be Casey centric, I just want to see what you all come up with! (Note: please no NSFW art)

I have included character sheets and some visual development as reference for how the characters will look at this point in the story (though you do not need to strictly follow it. Feel free to give it your own artistic twist). I will also include a PNG of the logo in case you have a vision for how you want it to be incorporated. Note you don’t have to use the logo but if yours is picked as the winner I will be putting a logo in there somewhere!

PRIZES: 3rd Place: an OC of yours will get to be a bg character in Replica (note the character cannot be an AU version of one of the main cast for obvious reasons). 2nd Place: a black and white commission of one character of your choosing. 1st Place: your cover front and center in the Replica lineup (with credit of course) as well as a 1-2 character commission w/ color (please no nsfw requests for either commission).

DUE DATE: NOVEMBER 19 (gives you all 2 months)

IMPORTANT: please use #replica DTIYS hashtag for easy search Also please DM me with your finished cover on Tumblr (otherwise I might miss it!)

NOTE: while not mandatory you’ll probably want the piece to be around the typical comic cover vertical 2:3 ratio (10x15" for example).

DISCLAIMERS:

I’ve never done an event like this before so I’ll admit I’m a little nervous. Don’t know if this will even gain any traction but I just want people to have good time and get creative :)

This is all just for fun so please do not push yourself too hard!

Let me know if you have any other questions and have fun!

#replica DTIYS #kathaynesart #rottmnt replica #replica #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rise of the tmnt #bad future rottmnt #tmnt #future leo #future raph #future mikey #future don #future cassandra #rottmnt casey jr #casey jones

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xo-cori · 7 months

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it’s all a game to me anyway

pairing: abby anderson x fem!reader

summary: pining after athletes is never a good idea. that is, unless you’re good at getting your way.

warnings: smut (MDNI), hockey!abby, reader is lowkey a womanizer, choking, the knee thing™, thigh riding, power dynamic switcharoo, no aftercare but in a hot way

a/n: inspired by “music to watch boys to” by mother lana 🙏 if you’re a buff girl named abby anderson who plays hockey pls hit my line immediately. also read pt 2 here!!

“How’d you get in here?”

In any other scenario, her tone would’ve offended you. At least, you would’ve pretended it did. But this is a very special case; you’ve got Abby exactly where you want her, only because you know she feels the same.

It all started a few months ago during your first week of college. You’d developed a reputation around the school pretty quickly– you tend to pick girls up for a night just to leave them in the dust. It’s fulfilling, until it isn’t. Until you move onto the next, getting better and better at pretending you’d fallen head over heels just to take someone to bed. Now, just starting your second semester, you’d climbed up the social hierarchy pretty quickly, and you’ve been eyeing somebody in specific. After playing your tricks with half of her teammates, of course.

You stand in the empty locker room with her as she packs her bag. You can tell she’s fresh out of the shower and had just finished getting changed. You wonder if you could’ve sped this up by walking in a bit earlier.

“I snuck in,” you shrug. “Just noticed you never came out with your team– I wanted to say how sorry I am that you guys lost. You’re the captain, right? You could spread the message.”

Her eyes meet yours and she’s obviously unimpressed. “I could, but I won’t.” She quips.

You tilt your head. “How come?”

“Well, you’re… acquainted with most of them. Tell them yourself.” She says, setting her bag down on one of the benches so that she can face you. Her dirty blonde hair is still damp and, now that you think about it, this is the first time you’ve seen it out of that signature braid she always wears– and you’ve seen a lot of her.

It’s become a habit to show up to every game, every practice, intently watching her command her team and skate around on that ice like her life depends on it. You don’t know how hockey works. You honestly couldn’t care less, but you have more than enough reason to watch it, and you have your music to keep you company.

“Someone’s jealous.” You observe, taking a long step towards her.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t make any attempt to create some distance. She just raises her eyebrows at you. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? You think I’m jealous?”

“Sounds like it.” You wrestle with a smile, not wanting to blow your one chance at this by pissing her off too much.

“Oh, really? And what’s there to be jealous of?” Abby questions, even if she has a pretty good idea what the answer will be.

“The winning team,” you take another step, “and… y’know, the fact that half of your team has had a turn with me. Not you, though. Not yet.”

The way her jaw tenses up makes your chest swell with pride. “Not yet?” She repeats. “You think I want a turn?”

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t look at me the way you do. You like it when I watch you all practice, because you know I’m just watching you.” You tell her.

Abby knows there’s no way to argue with that, no matter how much she’d like to. She looks for you in the bleachers and, when she finds you, subconsciously makes a point of holding that eye contact. You always have both of your headphones in. You’re always looking her up and down, licking your lips like she’s nothing but a freshly prepared meal to you. Honestly, it makes her confidence skyrocket. She’s secure in her capabilities, but a little boost never hurt.

“Athletes like being watched. That’s kinda the whole point,” she replies, “doesn’t make you special.”

“But I am special.” Another step forward. At this point, you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact. “I’ve gotta be. You know what I want, but you’ve never told your coach to make me fuck off.”

That’s true, too, Abby thinks. She’d never admit it, though. “Maybe I should.” She says.

“You won’t.” You grin. “Not until you get your turn, at least.”

She’s the one to take the next step forward. You can feel her breath fan across your face. She doesn’t trust her voice to speak; her hard exterior slowly crumbling under the heat of your gaze.

So, she grabs you by the throat and leans down to catch your lips between hers.

You gasp, shocked that she’d be the one to take the initiative. You weren’t even sure if she liked girls, and here she was, already shoving her tongue past your lips, which you happily accepted. Her chest presses to yours as she backs you up against one of the lockers. You opt to ignore how hard your head hit the metal, given how preoccupied you are by the way she grabs both of your wrists in her other hand and holds them above your head.

Then, she pulls back to look at you. You aren’t the one in control and you know it. Oddly enough, you kind of like it.

“Is this what you wanted?” Abby rasps, shoving her knee between your thighs and pressing up right where you needed her, causing you to let out a pleased sigh.

“Yeah,” you nod, “just didn’t think you’d be so easy.”

She finds it ironic that you of all people would call her easy, but she decides not to linger on it. Instead, she slightly tightens her grip around your throat, reveling in the way she only needs one hand to make your breath stutter. The lack of air gives you a head-rush and you find yourself grinding down onto her thigh. Normally, you wouldn’t let yourself be reduced to a submissive mess, but you’d been pining after her for months. You’d do whatever it takes to get her head between your legs.

Abby kisses you once more, totally ignoring the way your hands struggle against her grip only because you kiss her back with a fervor she’s never felt.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, “fucking yourself on my leg like a dog.”

You whine at the lack of her lips on yours. “I want you so bad, Abby– been waiting for this forever.” You admit, which is just another ego boost for her.

She lets go of your wrists and pulls your arms to wrap around her shoulders. “Go ahead, then. Make yourself cum like this.”

You’re taken aback by the demand. Is that even possible? Hell, just to impress her, you’ll make it possible.

You slowly get yourself into a rhythm, rolling your hips into hers, thighs trembling as you hold yourself up simply by her shoulders. Her muscles flex beneath your hands and it only makes you moan louder. Your head falls back against the locker once more, giving Abby an opening to dive into your neck. She kisses, licks, bites any skin available to her, leaving little marks and bruises in her path. Something for her to gawk at later when you show up to practice (because she knows you will). Her hands hold you by your waist, fingertips digging into your flesh so hard that it hurts.

It only takes another two minutes until you feel your climax boiling somewhere deep inside of you. Your legs are just barely working anymore and your hips move with an untamed rhythm, shamelessly seeking any pleasure you can get. “I’m close,” you whimper, “please, please let me–”

Before you can finish your plea, she’s grabbing onto your hips and holding you still. You groan in frustration, balling your hands into fists and whacking them against her chest. “You fucking bitch!” You whine, only made angrier by the shit-eating grin on her face (plus the way she isn’t phased at all by your punches).

“Sorry,” Abby says, moving in so close to your face that your noses are nearly touching, “just needed to vent all this frustration. You know, since I lost the big game and all.”

She presses another kiss to your lips, and you reach up to grab hold of her hair, trying to deepen it as much as possible. She doesn’t struggle at all to pull away, though. You’ve never loved and hated someone’s muscles so much.

“Let me make it better.” You breathe, trying to move one of your hands down between her legs but she quickly grabs it to restrain you. “Please, I’ll– I promise, I’ll make you forget about that stupid game.”

“That’s not a very tempting offer,” Abby sighs dramatically just to get a rise out of you, “don’t wanna be sore for practice tomorrow.”

You scrunch your nose in thought. Is that an invitation? It has to be. She knows you’ll be there regardless. You stare deep into her eyes with a fury, but this only seems to amuse her.

She lets go of your hips and steps away from you. “See you then.”

You remain pressed up against the locker, lips kiss-bitten and legs shaky. You don’t even want to think about what your neck looks like. Abby grabs her bag from the bench and doesn’t even spare you another glance before walking out of the same door you came in through.

Fuck this, you think. Two can play at that game.

#the last of us #the last of us 2 #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson smut

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airbendertendou · 10 months

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a small compilation of moments between autistic!reader + connor happy disability pride month <3

anon requested : hi! i was wondering if you could do something with connor and the autistic reader and like them going nonverbal and how he would handle that? You don’t have to do it if you don’t wanna! :)

please do not use this as a way to self-diagnose. having one thing in common does not necessarily mean you are autistic. im not a therapist or doctor, if you think you’re on the spectrum, talk to them. <3

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

temperature irregulation ♥︎

hank was a firm believer in a cold house. when the summer season came and brought a heatwave with it, the older man wouldn’t allow anything other than a brisk, chilly living room.

it was often you’d come over to go over old cases and study with hank. interning with the detroit police department was fun — the academy, however, you could live without. you’d learned to dress warm when visiting hank’s house, having a hard time warming up once you were cold.

“here,” a thicker sweater is placed over the couch, the sleeve laying on your shoulder. you take it without thought, swapping your thinner one for the new one. connor smiles at the pattern on your fuzzy socks, the sight of your toes curling in delight at the warmth bringing something tender to his brain. “better?”

you nod with a hum, “thanks, detective.”

hank rolls his eyes, hiding the curl of his lips at your obliviousness. “anyways, as i was saying—”

[interrupted] routine ♥︎

every day at 12:10 pm, you’d wander into the breakroom for a snack and drink refill. connor didn’t mean to memorize your specific regimen — but after watching you do the same thing for a week straight, it stuck to his mind.

you loitered in the doorway to the breakroom, peeking in occassionally to see if it’d emptied out any. gavin caught your gaze, rolling his eyes at your hesitance. it was then you spotted the mug in his hands — your mug, the one you always used. your frown deepened.

connor budged his way into the crowd, bumping into gavin and causing his drink to spill. every curse leaving the human’s mouth went ignored — connor only watched as you cowered away from gavin’s angry steps as he left. grabbing the dropped mug, connor rinsed it four times before holding it out to you shyly.

you crept into the breakroom, grabbing the handle of the mug and shooting the android a thankful grin.

stimming with pressure ♥︎

hank opened the door to his house with a sigh. connor’s eyebrows furrowed as he tilted his head, questioning the elder silently. hank leans against the door, “[name]’s been here a while, s’all. won’t leave my bathtub.”

a safe zone, connor concludes, somewhere small and compact ; where you could see every corner and every threat. he makes his way to the bathroom without another thought, pausing at the sight of you.

your eyes are closed, face crumpled in displeasure as you clench and unclench your fists in a pattern. connor knocks on the door, announcing his presence without startling you. your eyes fly open, “hello, detective.”

“you can call me connor, if you’d like.” the android steps further into the bathroom slowly, allowing you to object if you need to. your eyes stay on him — his thirium pump stutters in his chest. “anything i can do to help?”

taking in a deep breath, you puff your cheeks as you release the air. “maybe. if you don’t think it’s weird.”

connor stares down at you, his upper lip curled in hesitance as you lay in hank’s bed. you adjust yourself, wiggling around until you’ve splayed your limbs where you want them. you blink up at him, “well?”

“it is a little... strange.” connor tries to be nice, he really does. but asking an android to lay on you — to put their full weight on you — he’s concered. “i will crush you.”

you roll your eyes, “i have a weighted blanket at home ; it’s no different.”

“i weigh quite a bit more than—”

“are you going to lay on me or not, connor?”

maybe it was the sound of you saying his name for the first time ; maybe it was the way you looked so defeated. whatever it was, connor found himself laying on you as gently as he could. the relaxation was immediate — he could feel the breath of relief you let out ; the way your body sagged.

you fell asleep that way — with connor holding his breath and tensing up the closer you got.

sensory overload ♥︎

the scene you were going to was a lot. it was nighttime now, the sirens and flashing lights bringing everyone’s attention this way. hank leaves the car first, grumbling as he goes. the sound that leaks through his open door causes you to whimper.

connor turns his head to you, “everything alright?”

your gaze hasn’t left the window as you squint, blinking at all of the lights. you gulp before biting your lip. “i’ll be fine. this is what i signed up for.”

you’re barely out of the car and already wincing at the noise and the lights. you can’t see hank ; can’t hear or understand anything being said around you. the world is blinking in hues of red and blue, wailing sirens going off with every flash of the lights.

the sound grows muffled as soft and sturdy hands cup your ears. a thumb moves from your ear briefly, just long enough for you to hear a whisper. “close your eyes and i’ll lead you into the house. that’s where the lieutenant is.”

trusting connor’s words — a little too easily — you squeeze your eyes shut. your hands go up to cover his, sealing your ears from the harsh sounds around you. stumbling a little here and there, you eventually feel a difference in temperature as you enter the house.

letting out a sigh, your shoulders moving with the motion, slowly your eyes peel open. you glance at connor, ignoring the tenderness of his gaze. “thanks, connor.”

he lets out a deep breath, ignoring the sly grin hank sends his way. “no problem, [name].”

verbal shutdown ♥︎

it happened so quick. your safe foods had vanished from their designated cabinet ; your chair’s wheel was squeaking incessently ; hank hadn’t shown up today. everything was piling on and you finally exploded.

the evidence locker was empty as you shakily typed in hank’s password. you hit the wrong button a few times, squeezing your eyes together at the little beeps. your breathing picks up — you hold it in your chest and shake your hands, releasing the tension built inside you.

you all but crawl into the secure room, your back hitting the wall as you sit down. your eyes squeeze shut again and you go through the motions, choosing the less destructive ways to calm yourself down.

none of them work.

when connor finds you, you’re drawing shapes on the floor with your finger. you’ve curled into yourself, not making a sound ; your usual means of comfort absent from your lips. he walks to you cautiously, “[name]? hank has returned. he’s asking to see you.”

you don’t move ; not a sound falls from your lips. connor sits in front of you, crossing his legs as he waits. from his suit pocket comes a ring of multicolored notecards — your eyes flash to his at the sight of them. connor holds them out further so that you can see them properly. “want to use these?”

a miniscule nod, but it’s enough to make him smile. “alright,” he flicks through the blue cards — feelings. stopping at your set of upset verbs, he slides the ring your way. “any of these describe how you’re feeling?”

a shaky finger hits the word overstimulated before dragging over to panic. connor nods, flipping to the pink set — solutions. “what do you want to do? go home ; nap ; have a snack ; get your puzzle book ; coloring book...” connor holds them up to you, reading out each one until you nod — except you don’t. pausing, connor speaks up again, “want me to leave?”

you shake your head. slowly, your hand crawls across the floor until it meets his. you nudge his hand, curling your fingers under his. connor holds his breath, adjusting your fingers until you’re holding hands properly. his eyes stay to the floor, “this is okay, too. let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

emotional regulation ft. lots of crying ♥︎

“connor,” your voice brings him out of his work. standing beside his desk, connor watches as you sway side to side. he tilts his head and it makes your eyes water. “i’m going to cry.”

that was his cue to take you into his arms. connor stands to do so, gathering your body against his and rocking you side to side slowly. your body hiccups a few times, sniffles leaving your nose occassionally. you seem to calm down even more as he rubs your back soothingly — connor’s led light flashes yellow as he stores that information for later.

you pull away with a deep breath, rubbing your face with the hoodie you’re wearing. connor frowns, “better?”

you nod, “needed that. thank you.”

“want to tell me what upset you? only if you want to.”

connor never knew what to expect your answer to be. sometimes you just shook your head and snuggled close to him again. other times, you did talk about why you were crying and it made connor realize the extent of human emotions.

“no more chocolate in the snack cabinet.”

“had a nice dream.”

“hank is wearing yellow.”

“it’s such a pretty day today!”

“too much noise.”

“gavin cut his hair.”

you let out another sniffle, lips pouting in thought. “not too sure this time. jus’ felt like i needed to cry.”

connor nods to himself, his led light whirring yellow once more. “i’m glad you feel comfortable with me, [name]. i’ll be here if you need another cry.”

you grin, meeting his eyes for a brisk second before reaching out to hold his hand. you swing your entwined hands lightly, grin softening into something gentle. “i know. thanks, con.”

the detective was sure he’d implode because of you soon. just not yet — not when you’re still holding his hand.

——♥︎—— for some reason my brain tells me to only write autistic readers n pair them w connor. like?? work w me here!! anyways. i hope this was okay, remember to take your meds, drink some water and have a nice snack!! airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#connor imagine #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #dbh connor imagine #autistic!reader #autistic reader #dbh x reader #detroit become human imagine #detroit become human x reader #connor headcannons #connor drabbles #dbh drabbles #dbh imagine #detroit become human drabbles

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darlingdekarios · 11 months

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prūmia hen zaldrīzes.

"heart of the dragon."

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 8,317 content: Prince Aemond Targaryen x f!Lannister!reader, reader is a Lannister but is not given a specific description, Aemond is so salty and petty, arranged marriage, infidelity, smut [v fingering, f receiving oral, unprotected p in v, creampie], kinks [biting, scratching, breeding]

when he is forced to watch his twin flame marry his brother, Aemond finds a solution for coping other than burning it all to the ground.

King’s Landing, 120 AC

“I’m sorry for your eye, Prince Aemond,” you whispered, your voice quiet and sincere as the boy you’d spent so many years of your childhood with avoided your gaze with the perfect eye he still had. “I came as soon as I was told what happened.”

All he could muster was a firm nod, the sweet boy you often encountered now tucked away inside crushing self-consciousness as he sat before you. Still, despite his unease at his bandaged face, he found it within himself to remark the pride he felt for himself. “I lost an eye but gained a dragon. I would make the trade again.”

You had to smile at his subtle insistence to impress you, to cover the aura of dread he seemed to be exuding. “A worthy trade indeed, my prince.”

His good eye finally found your face, his harsh resolve fading at the softness that covered your features. Only months younger than Aemond and the sole daughter of Lord Lannister, you had spent much of your childhood in the Red Keep beside the Targaryen children. With your father’s place at Viserys’ Court, you spent more time at the Capital than within the walls of Casterly Rock, and while Helaena had always been a wonderful friend, it was Aemond you often found yourself beside. Now, at the darkest night in his life, it would be no different, and the gratitude shown through his features. He could never hide his truest self from you.

“My face doesn’t make you want to scream?” he questioned, the anger at his own mutilation doing wonders at hiding the genuine concern he felt at how you’d respond to his new appearance – even as a child, Aemond always basked in your approval.

“Only because you must be in pain,” you reassured, your soft voice sincere in ways no one else ever was with him. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, almost as if he was waiting for you to laugh, so used to being on the receiving end of a joke these days but was met only with your kindness as your warm hand covered his own. With the subtlest of squeezes, you quieted your voice to barely above a whisper. “I shall put out Lucerys’ eye for your next name day.”

For the first time since the incident Aemond felt his lips curve into a light smile, anxiety’s grasp on his heart lightening. “Viserys says Lord Strong is not to be hurt,” he remarked, the distaste for his father’s decision and forsaking of his own son shining through his voice. “It is an embarrassment. It is shameful. I will have to sit here and have my bandages changed daily by…”

“Me,” you offered, your voice earnest and hopeful. If it would not cause him pain his eyebrows would have pulled together in visible bewilderment – why anyone would offer to see him in the state he was in was beyond him. You offered a gentle smile and gave his hand another squeeze, repeating your offer to help him understand. “I will have the Maester teach me the proper way tomorrow, and then I will do it for you, Aemond.”

It would both confuse and comfort Aemond every day for the coming months when you found your way to his door promptly, gentle hands providing a better, more caring bandaging than anyone else had offered.

King’s Landing, 123 AC

“He is insufferable,” Aemond gritted through his teeth, his jaw popping in irritation as he fought to remain composed before you. You had seen him in much worse states than this in your younger years when he had less of a cool control over his emotions, but it had been quite some time since you had heard this tone behind his words. “Laughing at me because I don’t wish to bed whores like he does.”

“He is only jealous because he has to pay people to like him, my Prince,” you spoke, coming to sit beside him before his fireplace. His good eye met your gaze, the smallest bit of his frustration dissipating under your gentle expression.

The years that had passed since he had lost his eye had only pulled the two of you closer together, your own mother having passed due to fever. Pained by the resemblance you bore to your mother, your father had all but abandoned you at the Red Keep – any time apart from one another was due to Aemond’s absence, not your own. In a world where both of you found backs turned to you, you always found one another – the familiarity so comforting it was impossible to give up.

“Even still, my lady – his words have point,” he spoke, falling into the sweetness you presented him with. Resting your hand on top of his between the two of you, you held onto his every word – ever the one to make him feel important and desired. “I am thirteen and, according to Aegon, I’m hardly even a man because I won’t let one of his whores kiss me.”

The silence lingered as you soaked in his words, the crackling of the fireplace lulling you into a comfortable state. With his hand beneath yours you were once again reminded how warm Aemond was, and how it always seemed to invite you closer whether you were conscious of it or not. “Is it truly so important to have been kissed?”

“I care more for other things,” he stated simply, while inside his mind he found no calm. “But I do wish to have a reason to quiet him.”

A nod confirmed your understanding, a quiet hum leaving your lips in approval. Without much more than a minute of thought you leaned across to him, pressing your lips to his in a chaste, delicate and inexperienced kiss. Aemond, always quick to action, found for the first time in a long time he was caught off guard, frozen to his place as you gifted him (and yourself) his first kiss.

The next time Aegon taunted his younger brother for having not been kissed over dinner, Aemond was proud to report that he had, in fact. Despite the queen turning her head to analyze her son’s proud expression, she hadn’t missed the redness to your cheeks or the quick giggle you had to silence. Though she very easily could have, Alicent Hightower kept the kiss a shared secret – even from the two of you.

King’s Landing, Winter 128 AC

Lowering your cloak’s hood and taking a step into the darkness you found yourself being pushed toward the stone wall, familiar hands grasping your shoulders. As you turned your gaze upward to take in the sight of his shining blue eye and eye patch you found the harshness of his expression.

“What are you doing? Have you lost all sanity?” he questioned, leaning his face closer to yours. Now that he was a teenager, he had begun to tower over you, his height serving an obvious intimidation advantage.

“I wanted to see you so I…I snuck through the castle and the city to here, and I thought…I’d find you down here,” you explained, your rationale doing nothing to soothe his pounding heart. “I’ve often wondered what the lower parts of the dragon pit were like.”

“I have heard curiosity often kills the cat,” he replied, one of his hands leaving your shoulder to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against the expanse of your cheek. “Dovodedha kēlītsos…this is no place for you.”

It was impossible not to lean into his hand more, embracing the warmth you so often craved these days. As Aemond grew older and responsibility loomed on his head, his hours training and hunting and flying grew, time away from you being a cruel result of that. And for your part, you had been returned to Casterly Rock a year prior due to your father wishing to keep you closer again, wishing to fend off those who sought betrothal to you, remarking often that none of them were good enough for his daughter. The most contact you’d received from your closest companion was through raven or middleman, the occasional visit atop Vhagar from him – when he had the time.

The moment you’d arrived in King’s Landing you’d wanted to see Aemond. And truth be told, if he had known of your arrival beforehand, there would have been nothing to keep him from greeting you. Your intention to surprise him by not giving warning of your visit had backfired, but Helaena had rescued the day by telling you where to find her brother. This close you could see the slick sweat to his brow, the subtle flare to his nostrils that signified his annoyance.

It was a secondary feeling – what he truly felt was concern.

“And yet I am still alive before you, unharmed, my Prince,” you taunted, your voice low and smooth and brimming with joy at being so near to him again. His hand on your cheek slid further, fingers entangling in your hair gently to refamiliarize himself with the texture.

“Only because I found you first, kēlītsos.”

“I wanted to be found.”

The smallest smile formed on his lips, a gentle shake to his head further proving his amusement. “I have missed you and your recklessness. You truly have the bravery of a lion, though I doubt you have the nine lives.”

His smile was returned by your own, your hands finding way to either side of his neck delicately. “I have missed you as well, Aemond,” you spoke quietly, fingernails grazing his skin lightly on the back of his neck and creating goosebumps across his skin.

Strong emotions rushing through him paired with the hormones of a teenager had him claiming your lips in a bruising kiss next, critical words lost to him as he lost himself in your features. This time, neither of you were caught off guard, the kiss returned immediately and met with a hum of approval. His grip on your hair tightened slightly as his tongue sought a taste of your lips, his own hum vibrating in his chest as your fingers found way to his hair as well.

As you allowed your jaw to relax and his tongue to enter your mouth his free hand grasped your hip, pulling your waist forward and into his, so he could grind his hardening cock into you, greedily swallowing the moan it pulled from you. Recognizing the danger that going further posed he was the one to reluctantly break the hungry kiss, and he who resisted kissing you again as he escorted you to the Red Keep.

If he had known taking you back to those who awaited you meant hearing his mother announce you were to marry Aegon, he would have fled with you atop Vhagar. Despite his best efforts, his family was still finding new ways to play jokes on him. This was the cruelest yet.

King’s Landing, Spring 129 AC

The months that followed were a harsh realization of your new reality.

Ever since, that day had been the first thought to your mind in the morning and the thing that you cried yourself to sleep over every night. Though Alicent Hightower’s announcement that the King had decided to honor tradition and name his eldest son the true heir to the crown (something you felt had to do with how heavily sedated and agreeable he was, not that you’d voice that opinion to any other than Aemond), it was the second part of her speech that ripped your heart from your chest. You would wed her eldest son and unify the crown and the Lannisters, a truly monumental occasion for the realm.

The words were those of two fathers – hers and your own – plotted with only greed in their hearts. Alicent did not relish in passing the news, and dreaded what it would do to her son, and yet that did not stop her from doing so. While you had attempted to make your objection to the match known, your words had no weight, and your future was decided behind your back. Aemond had returned to the Dragon Pit and did not return to the Red Keep for days. Even when he had returned, he would avoid you for the first time in your lives.

It took only months for the betrothal to move forward. With King Viserys the Peaceful dead by Spring and the Conqueror’s crown placed upon Aegon’s head, it become imperative to demonstrate to the people of Westeros that their new King was worthy of the throne his father had bestowed on him. This of course meant marrying a woman from a highly regarded family and bringing children into his bloodline (not that he hadn’t already).

“We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wi-“

The septon’s words were cut short by the familiar bellow of a creature far older than any other present, the familiar flap of impossibly large wings shooting a gust of wind directly over your wedding ceremony. The Queen of All Dragons landed with a harsh quake to the ground, your hand shooting out to the archway over you to steady yourself, Helaena rushing forward to assist you.

“You’re late to your own brother’s wedding, Aemond,” Alicent Hightower hissed through her teeth, attempting to maintain the smile she had plastered on her face as she watched her eldest son ignore the opportunity to assist his betrothed.

“Truthfully, mother, you should be lucky I am here at all,” the one-eyed prince replied, the sincerity behind his words unsurprising. “It is blasphemous. The one person in this world I truly care for, that I have no obligation to do so, and you stick her with my cunt of a brother.”

“Your words are treason, Aemond. Aegon is your king now,” she chastised, her glare fixating on him momentarily with the brief turn of her head.

“Apologies, mother – my cunt of a king,” he replied, stepping backward and away from further ridicule. His step was matched by his mother – one of two people he could never seem to hide from.

“Aemond…I know this is difficult for you, my sweet boy,” she began, her voice soft and diplomatic. A couple of years younger and he may have faltered, but not now. Not when he faced a waking nightmare before him. “I do hope that one day when you find a suitable wife for yourself, you will understand the decision we’ve made.”

“I will not find a suitable wife and I will not marry,” came his reply, voice unwavering and absolute. “If I am not to marry her, I am not to marry at all.”

“I have faith that you will see reason and change your mind.”

Aemond turned his face back to his mother, jaw popping in frustration as he did so. It was subtle, anyone unfamiliar with the prince would not notice the movement – his own mother did, of course. “The woman standing across from Aegon sat beside me while every stitch on my face was opened, the hole where my eye used to be pried apart, and a sapphire inserted into it. She never released my hand, she never looked away. And now you marry her to someone who can’t tell his own hand from a whore.”

“Be that as it may, it is done,” the former queen continued, the remorse in her voice showing itself slightly. She knew, all too well, what it was like to lose love because of duty. “We may talk about this more later, sweet boy.”

“There is no need, mother. As you say,” he continued, placing his arms behind his back carefully. “It is done.”

The remainder of the ceremony went without additional surprise. Aemond desperately wished to be free of this obligation, his annoyance showcased on his face regardless of whose eyes may have caught glimpse of him. His only comfort came from the look that remained on your face – solemn, unimpressed, unchanging; even when Aegon had kissed you. It was the first time Aemond had seen so very little of a reaction to one of his brother’s kisses, and the display of indifference both satisfied something deep with Aemond and caused his stomach to churn. Your wedding day should have been so much better than this – you deserved so much better than this, than Aegon.

It was a relief to his unsettled stomach when he saw you alone on a balcony during the feast to celebrate you – to celebrate the marriage and the new queen. Still, even with the food, the wine, and the gifts, Aemond had not seen your lips curl to a smile once the entire day. Though he wasn’t entirely certain he could contain himself from doing something foolish by claiming this moment of your attention, he opted to throw that caution to the wind. You were his to be foolish with.

He sauntered toward you with hands behind his back still, pleased when you turned as he approached within an arm’s length of you. For the first time all day he watched as you rivaled the full moon behind you with a smile.

“My Prince,” you greeted, eyes flashing up at him in profound appreciation.

“Your Grace,” he bowed his head slightly in return, a small smirk flashing on his features as he peered up at you between his lashes. He’d worn the eye patch you’d specifically had crafted for him in Lannisport – you had to wonder if it was an intentional show of your bond or not. He caught the way your eyes lingered, filled with uncertainty. Aemond was the first to put his swarming thoughts to spoken word.

“This should be our wedding day, kēlītsos,” he began, his eye burning into yours as he took a step closer – another and it may be considered indecent. “I wonder if that fact haunts you as it does me.”

Being this close to him always set your body alight, the heat blazing beneath every inch of your skin and begging for the coolness that accompanied his lips. “Every moment,” you replied, your voice quiet and so intentionally only for him. “You should have taken me across the sea on Vhagar where no one would follow or find us.”

The corners of his mouth barely twitched upward in a smile – the first you’d seen from him in months – your words almost pulling a growl from his chest. One of his gloved hands twitched toward yours, his fingers lightly grazing against your wrist, tempting him to pull you closer and closer until no one, not even his brother, could take you away from him. It was foolish to speak this way so openly with so many potential listeners nearby, but neither of you truly cared. “It may happen still.”

“Is this your way of telling me you love me, Prince Aemond? It is not immensely traditional, I’m afraid,” you taunted, eyes finding his face again and appreciating his features. “Though, I suppose it is your rebellious heart that has won my love, as well.”

“Sister,” Helaena greeted as she interrupted the moment between the two of you, his expression immediately hardening as he withdrew his hand from your wrist again. “I wish to walk in the garden with you before you retire to bed. Would you join me?”

With a final longing glance you departed, joining your sister-in-law for one of her nightly walks, growing ever-more dread-filled as the time passed and your return to your wedding duties continued. Soon enough, you thought, Aegon would be crawling between your legs, no doubt smelling like wine and dirt and dragons in the least endearing of ways. The thought made your stomach twist into knots more and more until the Princess had walked you back to your bedchamber, entering the warm room with you.

“The dragon sings at the moon’s brightest hour.”

She departed then, leaving you alone with a puzzled look on your face as multiple handmaidens joined you to remove the elegant gown that weighed you down, allow you to bathe, and help you into night clothes, removing your hair from the intricate style to lay loose. They put more wood on the fire and withdrew, remarking that one of the girls, Marleya, would be around should you need her. It was ironic to know that your husband regularly found himself buried in her, when he was failing to fulfill his obligation to you on your wedding night. Between the walk and the routine the handmaidens had carried out, hours had passed, and while you still felt the looming dread that Aegon may call on you, it had twisted into something far more pathetic. Soon you were sat on the open window overlooking the city, fixing your eyes to the sky with a forlorn expression covering your face as you envied what it would feel like to be able to fly away at any moment.

You were not the only one in the Red Keep troubled by your thoughts, as Aemond found himself wandering the halls since you had departed from him. Though he tried to think of something else, anything else, he could not prevent his thoughts from wandering back to his brother likely consummating his marriage, claiming something from you he had no right possessing. It made him sick to think of the way Aegon would treat you for the first time, almost sick enough to manifest fully.

He hadn’t planned to walk past Aegon’s room, and yet that’s exactly where his feet carried him shortly after 11, the familiar halls as he approached causing him to draw in deeper, steadier breaths, preparing himself for whatever he may hear. As he rounded the final corner he was greeted with the sight of his stumbling, drunken older brother holding the door to his bedchamber open for one…two…three…four…working women from King’s Landing, their quiet giggles being shushed by him until they were all nestled inside with him close behind. When the door closed with a heavy thud, Aemond released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.

If Aegon was partaking in his usual activities, that meant you were alone. And while it pleased him to know his brother had not pulled you into his bed just yet, it also made the anger burn inside of him. This was, after all, your wedding night and you had looked so beautiful in his house colors – and now you were alone.

It was approaching the middle of the night when your thoughts were interrupted.

“Your Grace,” came the voice of Marleya. She was quiet, timid – not wanting to interrupt the state she knew you were in but unable to refuse what had been asked of her. “Apologies for the interruption. Prince Aemond has come to request a word with you, my Queen.”

When you heard the light fall of his boots against the stone floor you inhaled a deep breath, trying to steady your breathing so you could talk without giving away your emotional state. Although you wanted to seek the comfort you had so often found in his face you kept your eyes forward, back to him as you continued to look at the night sky. When his footsteps silenced relatively close behind your position you inhaled another deep breath to prepare yourself for whatever additional torment was fated for your night.

“Your Grace,” came his quiet timbre, the moniker pulling a sigh from you. Hearing anything but your name from him sounded so foreign – so wrong.

“Yes, Prince Aemond,” you managed in response, mentally thanking yourself for the composure you kept over your words.

“I have come to pass news of your…good husband,” he began, his words laced with venom and disgust. Judging by his words, your handmaiden had lingered in the bedchamber, so you were not alone with another man – improper indeed on your wedding night. “I feel it best if the information is delivered between family.”

You briefly turned your head to direct a glance at the girl, who was not much younger than you, offering a light smile. “Thank you, Marleya. I am in safe hands with my…brother. You may retire for the night.”

The girl nodded before exiting, closing the door to the bedchamber as she went. Aemond watched her go, confirmed the door was closed with a lingering glance before turning his eyes to the back of your head. You had returned your gaze to the stars twinkling above the sky, wondering how it would feel to be there – to be so very far away.

“I thought that your Grace should be informed that I have witnessed our King entering his own bedchamber not long ago,” he started, almost expecting you to turn to watch him speak. It was curious when you did not look in his face when he spoke. “He seemed to be quite full of alcohol. Not to worry, though, he had escorts to ensure his…satisfactory retirement for the night. You need not wait for his arrival here.” He watched as your shoulders lowered with the release of a shaky breath, the visible signification of your faltering anxiety.

“Is this all, Prince Aemond? You’ve come to remind me my good husband is a drunken whoremonger?” you questioned; harsh words softened by the meekness in your voice. Despite your insistence to keep your face from him and hide your tears, your voice had begun to shake – as had your shoulders. Aemond was familiar with both.

He stepped forward, the sound of his boots drawing nearer both sending your body alight and filling it with dread. When he stood just behind you his arms wrapped around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he had done so many times. You wondered if this would be the last. “What troubles you? I should think it is a comfort my brother will not summon you tonight,” he spoke lightly, lowering his head down to rest his chin atop your head.

“A woman’s wedding is supposed to be the greatest day of her life,” you began, forsaking strength in his arms and relying on him to support you. “And yet I feel like my life has been ripped away from me.”

“It is unfair, your Grace,” he began, his warmth radiating through you and settling into a familiar comfort deep within you that only he could bring. His voice was so soft, so sincere, so unlike it had been each time you had heard him speak in the last few months. “My brother is a fool to ignore such a beautiful bride. You were art brought to life in our house colors.”

You released another deep breath you didn’t fully realize you were holding, the relaxation in your torso allowing him to wrap his arms around you tighter. Even now you wore the Targaryen colors – a thin black night dress and an even longer, lighter red robe. Aemond wanted nothing more than to pin you against the wall like the art he viewed you as – even more now with your face free of additions and hair left loose. You raised onto your knees, turning simultaneously to plant yourself in his arms fully, chest pressed to his in an inherently indecent manner consider your new titles. Neither of you had ever cared for such.

You titled your head back to allow him a true look at your face – cheeks streaked with tear trails, bottom lip red and swollen from your incessant biting, and eyes red, glossy and puffy from undoubted hours of crying. Even under the despair in your eyes he could see the lingering hope, the love that burned for him hiding in the depths and screaming to break free. He raised one hand to cup your cheek in it, the cool leather coming against your warm cheek cueing a shiver up your spine.

Without giving you a chance to stop them more tears spilled over your cheeks, his glove soaking up the tears on one of your cheeks. Having spent so much time around Aemond in your life you knew what the subtle looks behind his remaining eye meant. That fact was doing nothing to help sedate the burning you felt for him as you met his gaze, facing the concern, the care and the longing he was harboring directly. The intensity caused your breath to catch in your throat.

“Īlē ñuhon, kēlītsos, [You were mine, little cat]” he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours and closing his eye. His perfect nose lightly brushed against yours, his arms wrapping around your waist tighter. He reveled in the way you melted to him, joining your form to his in a way that was so unique to the two of you. “I should have claimed you long ago.”

His thumb began to brush lightly against your cheek, the desire to free himself of his gloves and feel you again growing stronger. Your breath caught in your throat briefly before you found the word you sought in a language so different from your own, albeit hardly above a whisper. “Ñuhon.”

“Kessa, kēlītsos, [Yes, little cat]” he breathed, the tip of his nose kissing yours lightly. “Lions, like dragons, do not belong to people. We belong to ourselves. But you have always been mine, and I have always been yours.” He brushed your cheek again gently, his fingertips so uncharacteristically light as the fire behind his eyes burned into yours. “You may be his wife to the kingdom, but the gods know you are mine.”

You felt more tears spill over your lashes, a sigh falling from your lips as Aemond twisted his head barely, pressing his lips to one of your cheeks to kiss the tear away. You only melted into him further, nuzzling your face into his hand that still rested on your cheek. It was a crime to be certain, his next move – and yet there was nothing truly wrong with the way he turned his head again, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so soft it was nostalgic of the first you’d shared years ago now. Although you should have pulled away, or at the very least hesitated, you returned his kiss without second thought. When he spoke next his words were muffled by your lips.

“I came to do what my brother will not and give you a proper wedding night,” he began, pressing another kiss to your lips when his thought was complete. “If it is not your wish, stop me now. I will listen to your command – I will leave these walls and not speak of this again if you ask it.”

You almost hesitated, almost took a moment to consider your answer, but threw any caution to the wind by granting him another kiss – rougher, needier, more desperate and yet still softer than Aemond felt he’d ever deserve. He grasped you tighter, his fingertips indenting into the soft skin on your cheek as his other hand clutched the fine fabric on your lower back, holding you closer to him.

“I do love you, kēlītsos [little cat],” he muttered against your lips, unwilling to pull away but needing to say the words aloud nonetheless. “I have thought the words so many times now and never found it in myself to say them, though I should have before now.”

His hands left you to work on his own tunic, content with baring himself in some way to you first as he awaited your response. Your lips claimed his in another kiss before you found quiet words to whisper to him. “I have loved you for so long, Aemond, but he…he would kill me for this.”

“He wouldn’t dream of ordering harm to you with me to face.”

How long had he been thinking about this? Had he wanted to do this for years? Had he been considering taking you for months before Aegon could leading up to your wedding, or had something finally snapped in his mind today? Regardless of when it had happened – his mind was made up, and there was nothing that could be said to change his mind.

He discarded the thick black fabric from his torso to the floor, uncaring where it landed before he claimed your lips in another full kiss, his hands making busy with the thin tie around your waist. Craving the way he’d kissed you in the dragon pit only months ago you parted your lips for him, his tongue immediately staking claim on the warmth of your mouth. As he pushed the robe from your shoulders, he carefully placed the clothing on a surface close by, taking much more care in your belongings than his own. There was nothing worth doing so fast he couldn’t show you that he cared for you – deeply. The extra time would never be a bother with you.

He was thankful your night dress was thin and loose enough to slide down your shoulders carefully, his head bowing to press kisses down the top of one of your shoulders as he pushed the straps free, hands grasping your hips to pull you close. When the bare skin of your torsos met both of you released a sigh, Aemond tucking his head into your neck and holding you close for a moment, relishing in the warmth passing between the two of you. This close you could feel his heartbeat, and the raised skin of whatever wounds he’d found himself on the receiving end of already, so young in many ways and old in several more.

His lips started trailing up your neck, pulling a quiet gasp from you as your hands grasped his shoulders. He slid his hands to your lower back again to hold you as close as possible as his lips trailed lower, brushing over your collarbone. Aemond had been patient, and he could be for a while longer – as long as he got to feel as much of you as possible beneath his fingertips and lips.

He held you against him tightly, moving the two of you in front of the fireplace so he could see your body under the warm glow of the flames. As you followed his silent instruction your hands slid down his torso, eyes running over every inch of him hungrily as your fingers traced over the old scars you’d felt against you moments ago. He grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head backward so you would gaze up at him, and with your attention where he wanted it, he reached his other hand to cup one of your breasts, rubbing his thumb over your already hardened nipple gently. He sank to his knees in front of you slowly, covering you with feather-light kisses as he went, his every movement laced with intent as his kisses trailed to your hips.

Though the heat that spread throughout your body had created a fog that shrouded your mind, you found a moment of clarity. Reaching your hands to hold the sides of his face carefully and applying just enough pressure for him to respond you lifted him back up to you, sliding one of your hands to rest on his shoulder. You pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth before trailing them up the side of his face gently before brushing them, impossibly light and so full of love, across the lower part of the old scar that still brought him pain. The hand that still rested on his cheek slid to the back of his head, fingers dancing over the strap that secured the covering to his face.

“Kostilus [please],” you whispered gently, your quiet request filling his ears and pulling a gentle sigh from his lips. “I don’t wish for you to be hidden from me, Aemond.” It was the only time you were assertive with him, running your nose along his cheek to press a kiss beneath his ear. His breath caught in his throat, hands grasping at your waist as a quiet groan rumbled in his chest. He gave a firm nod, and you immediately pulled the patch free from his head, lying it carefully on the lounge next to you before whispering a quiet thank you.

“I see my sister has been teaching you to mind your manners in our ancestral tongue,” he purred, sliding one of his hands up your back to run his hand over your hair, encouraging you to look at him. The moment you tilted your head back for him he claimed your lips, only momentarily before he withdrew to give you a moment to run your eyes over his face appreciatively.

“Vhagar is the most fearsome dragon alive, and she wears many scars,” you cooed, leaning forward to press a kiss to the upper half of the scar on his face, your hand resting on his cheek to allow your thumb to brush over the bottom half. “The strongest dragons always do.”

While he wanted to claim your lips again in a kiss, he couldn’t hold himself back any further, lifting you into his arms to carry you to the bed as he gazed down into your face with an expression that melted further into love the longer it went on. He laid you in the bed with your head against the pillow before he crawled between your legs, encouraging your legs apart with the gentle caress of his hands. His lips followed his fingers on their path, soaking in the quiet mewls that he was already pulling from you. With your sex bared to him he could see your wet arousal leaking from your entrance, your thighs slick with the arousal he’d brought on.

He slid one of his hands higher up your thigh, a singular finger gathering some of the slick before he brought it to his face, popping the digit into his mouth with an appreciative hum. A wave of heat crashed through you accompanied by a gasp as your mouth fell open, the expression pulling a quiet chuckle from him as he lowered his head down, licking a stripe up the inside of your thigh with another low hum.

“Every inch of you is more beautiful than my mind could have done imagined,” he whispered into your skin before pressing a gentle kiss to your thigh. With one last glance to your face, he moved forward, running his tongue between your folds and grasping your thighs, holding you down slightly as you moaned for him. Wanton and greedy, he ran his tongue through your folds several more times before he could speak again. “I should throw you atop Vhagar now and flee so my brother may never taste you.”

With those final parting words, he dove into your awaiting sex, his tongue devouring you hungrily as the knowingly quiet symphony of your moans filled the bedchamber. He flicked the muscle over your swollen bundle of nerves, causing your hips to buck up slightly which only resulted in him grabbing you tighter, holding you against his face. Running his tongue downward again he dipped it inside your awaiting heat, groaning at the feeling.

Alternating between licks and sucks against your sensitive clit and fucking his tongue into you hastened the pressure building inside your lower half, your breaths becoming desperate as your thighs shook against his head. Feeling your walls flutter around his tongue he finally connected a thumb to your clit, rubbing it with the gentlest of circles as white-hot euphoria blinded your vision, his other hand reaching to clamp down over your mouth to stifle the scream that left your chest. Disconnecting his mouth from you, he continued his gentle movements with his thumb, his eyes gazing up to your face like he’d just discovered some fabled hidden treasure.

“I could stay here for hours feasting on you, beloved,” he cooed, leaning forward to lap up more of your nectar with a low groan in his chest.

“Please, Aemond…” you whined, already sensitive and satisfied and yet desperate for more.

“You want me to keep my head between your thighs, my Queen?” he pondered with that cocky, overly smug tone that always made you squeeze your thighs together. Another quiet whimper fell from your lips as you shook your head, breaths still desperate and mind still hazy from your orgasm.

“No, Aemond, I need you…please,” you began, shifting your hips against his hand to attempt for more pressure as his lips began to trail back up your body. He flattened his hand against your mound, allowing you to rub yourself on him – your desperation doing nothing to sedate his smirk. “Kostilus [please]. Don’t be cruel to me.”

His lips reached yours then, a gentle kiss carefully tucked into the corner of your mouth before he settled himself between your legs, leaning back on his haunches carefully. “Daor sir, gevie mēre [not yet, beautiful one],” he began, raking his eyes over your flushed figure beneath him in appreciation. “I have to open you up for me first.”

The hand that was still settled at your core dipped lower, one of his fingers teasing at your entrance in slow, tantalizing circles. When he’d pulled another moan from you and watched your face falter as you did, he slipped his index finger into your awaiting velvet channel. He felt your body tense at the intrusion, your walls clenching around his finger immediately. He wiggled it slightly, clicking his tongue against his teeth – more-so in concentration rather than disappointment.

“Lykirī,” he cooed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I cannot make you feel good if you don’t relax yourself for me, beloved.” You could only lean your forehead to his as you nodded, closing your eyes and inhaling in a deep breath. He withdrew the digit from you before thrusting it back in again slowly, the edges of his lips ticking upward as you released a quiet whimper. “That’s better.”

Within minutes he had relaxed you, his finger circling and wiggling inside of you with each thrust, pulling more moans from you as your body became accustomed to his movements. He added a second finger soon after, causing a gasp to fall from your lips and your hips to buck forward against his hand. Pressing another kiss to your lips he then trailed them lower again, sucking your swollen clit between his lips gently as he curled his fingers inside to rub against the rough patch behind your clit.

“A-Aemond…” you moaned, earning a groan from him as he then flicked his tongue against your clit, massaging it gently as he continued to wiggle his fingers against the spot deep within you that was causing your thighs to begin to shake again. When he began to suck on the sensitive bundle of nerves again a second wave of euphoria washed over you, a rush of wetness covering his hand as he pleasured you through the orgasm.

Removing his fingers from you and chuckling quietly and the whimper you released from the loss, Aemond moved to stand beside the bed, working himself free of his pants which had begun to painfully restrict his throbbing cock. Once his member was free, he wrapped his fingers around it, stroking himself as he watched your breathing return to somewhat of a normal state, eyes roaming over your body appreciatively and the wetness that already covered your bed clothes.

When you opened your eyes again and turned your head to gaze up at him you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed over. His free hand grasped one of yours gently, guiding it upward toward his cock in silent suggestion. When you wrapped your lithe fingers around his member he threw his head back in a moan, the noise turning to a low, rumbling growl in his chest as you mirrored his stroking movements from moments before.

Unable to deny his needs any longer he climbed back onto the bed between your legs, sighing at the loss when you removed your hand from him but appeasing himself by rubbing his cock against your core. Wrapping his own hand around himself again, he rubbed his leaking head between your folds to gather some slick against it. “Beg me again, my love. You sound so gorgeous when you beg for me.”

“Please, Aemond,” you breathed out, wrapping your legs around his waist in knowing anticipation. “Kostilus [please].”

He pushed into you slowly then, his thick cock sliding into your entrance and pulling an almost too loud cry from your lips, the protest silenced by his lips soon. His lips molded to yours as your hot channel took inch by inch of him, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he finally felt your tight walls embrace him. When he was fully sheathed inside you, he licked across the seam of your lips, stilling his waist as he kissed you deeply for several moments.

When your legs around his waist started to relax just a bit and your walls fluttered around him, he slowly withdrew from you before pushing his cock back in to the hilt, pulling away from the kiss to hear the moan that left your lips.

“So tight,” he breathed against your mouth quietly, beginning to repeat his slow and intentional thrusts. “I should have been enjoying your little cunt for years now.”

You could only whine at his words, too overstimulated and focused on how full you felt and the lingering pain of being stretched this way for the first time to form coherent words. His hair fell beautifully over his shoulders and brushed against your torso with his movements, a piece covering his eye from your view. When you lifted a hand to move the piece away from his face he smiled, turning his head to press his lips into your fingers before moving his kisses to your neck.

“Oh, the way you feel around me…” he groaned before pressing a kiss beneath your ear, his pace already picking up slightly. You were so tight and warm around him and he had wanted you for so long, the sheer feeling of finally being inside of you was not going to allow him a long session with you. There would, of course, be others, likely even in the same night – but for now he could only give in to the pleasure filling every cell in his body. “I’m going to come back here every night until I have filled your womb with my babe.”

You nearly moaned too loud again, your walls fluttering around him at his brazen, forbidden words. He lifted his head to gaze into your eyes again, leaning to press a kiss against your lips to assist you with muffling your cries as he picked up his pace more, grinding his hips into yours each time he’d gone as far as he could go. Though you were already feeling weak you managed to nod enough for him to register, your confirmation pulling a smile across his face.

“Oh, you like that, kēlītsos?” he questioned, giving another particularly slow and intentional thrust to massage his velvety head against the spot deep within you. You moaned his name quietly, a worthy award for his efforts. “You want me to empty my seed into you? Speak it.”

“Yes, Aemond,” you whimpered immediately, knowing he would require an answer, knowing he needed to feel that power over you. His pace picked up again as another growl ripped through his chest, the lewd sounds of your bodies joining together creating a dizzying symphony in the room that he would gladly listen to forever.

“We will create the perfect dragon,” he replied, letting his intentions be fully known on the chance you hadn’t understood yet. “Strong, and smart, and beautiful, and powerful…much better children than Aegon could hope to give you.”

You nodded your agreement, moving your lips against his slowly, almost cautiously in a kiss to silence another loud cry that came from his lips as he rocked against your cervix. One of his hands reached to grasp yours, lifting it above your head as he lowered his own to connect his mouth to one of your budded nipples, suckling at it with fervor in the hopes it would push you closer to the edge.

Your breaths soon became more desperate, legs shaking around his waist as the hand that wasn’t being held in his found way to the back of his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. He disconnected his mouth from your tit with a gentle bite to your nipple, an almost sinister smirk covering his features as you cried out for him again. “Will you release for me again, beloved? Find euphoria with me,” he almost begged, quickly adjusting his words to a simple instruction.

You nodded, vision going white again as he reconnected his mouth to yours, kissing you with more passion than he had thus far. With your walls clenching him tightly he found his own release, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls as a loud cry of his own ripped through his chest, thankful once again that your mouth swallowed most of the volume.

At the same time Aemond’s sound of pleasure filled the bedchamber the familiar cry of Sunfyre was heard above the castle, an interruption in the night sky no doubt caused by the new king taken a drunken flight to impress his chosen whores for the night. As Aemond released your mouth from his when his orgasm had finished, he leaned his head against your shoulder to speak through bated breaths.

“Perhaps he will fall from his dragon and become so injured I must rule in his stead.”

masterlist.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon fanfiction

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javarium · 5 months

Text

written in fine print | r. sukuna

moving to japan to get a breath of fresh air was supposed to be one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. it still may be, but now you’ve got a problem and you don’t know what to do about it. the problem? ryomen sukuna, one of the wealthiest men on the planet, being… enamored with you. you’ve come fairly far with him as “friends” while keeping him at bay, but after you both spend christmas together, you know that things have changed. and come the first day of the new year comes a surprise that forces you to face your bottled-up truth.

[ Ryomen Sukuna Masterlist ] | part three

w — slowburn, age gap, modern au, older man/younger woman, fluff, mild? angst, this time we get reader’s pov bc it’s time ;3, insecure! reader, self-indulgence, A KISS (but just one for now sorry y’all), reader and sukuna lay their feelings on the table (I’m sorry I couldn’t help but finally get to this part), sukuna gets kinda prose-y lmao, slightly unsatisfied with this fic but I hope y’all enjoy anyway, sprinkle of bittersweet at the end

God, have mercy upon my soul.

The dozens of text messages from your cousin have you sitting on the edge of your bed in absolute disbelief. You haven’t even had any coffee yet, or any sort of something in your stomach. It’s sheer willpower keeping you from throwing up the stomach acid in your belly.

But you do need something. You make your way into the kitchen and nab the biscuits you made yesterday from the bag they were in. You shouldn’t, but you eat all four of them anyway. Then you drink something.

You were wondering why everything was going too good, why life had been so… easy as of late. Now you understood why. It was the calm before the storm. It was the universe allowing you to have some semblance of peace before it decided to throw you into the pit of mental and emotional turmoil that you’d been so great at avoiding.

Why in the world did the universe decide to put Ryomen Sukuna into your life?

That’s the question you have been asking yourself over and over again ever since you decided to take him up on the offer of a first date six months ago. Even worse, why did you even think it was a remotely good idea to get involved with someone over ten years older than you? Universe aside, you should’ve had the good judgement to keep Sukuna away. Your good intuition was something you’d always prided yourself on, so why did you decide to even let Sukuna keep coming around?

You go back to your room and get the phone, rereading over the messages. One in particular your eyes stay on:

A benefactor has paid for nana’s care and set her up in a really fancy, upscale care and rehabilitation facility here. They came and got her this morning to transfer her. When I asked about it, someone from registration said it was a gift for you. Who the fuck did you meet in Japan? 5:16 am

And you know, deep within your soul and in your gut that Sukuna was behind this. There’s no one you know that has the money to pull off something like taking your grandmother from where she was to a facility where she’s going to get more constant help, cleaned, proper rehabilitation. No one else but him.

The coffee maker suddenly beeps, beginning to brew a fresh pot of coffee. You almost jump out of your skin from it. You wait until it’s done before digging out one of the banana nut muffins Shoko brought over two nights ago to pre-celebrate the new year.

You truly don’t know what to feel. You’re unsure about everything. Coming to Japan to get a breath of fresh air from the strain your old life was supposed to be one of the best choices you’ve ever made. But now, all it’s become is a whirlwind of even more, even deeper emotional confusion.

Meeting Yuuji was great. Meeting his older brother? The entire source of the emotional confusion.

You lean against the counter and gaze outside. The snow has finally ceased and you’re sure dozers are out clearing the roads. You can’t help but fall into your thoughts.

For awhile, you’ve had… feelings. You’re not quite sure what they are, but you know that they revolve around the older, rich man you’ve befriended. You know that whenever he’s around, you feel more… open, lighter even. You know he makes you feel flustered, to which you’ve learned to seal said fluster inside of a bottle and remain indifferent in his presence. Every time he looks at you or speaks to you, it makes you feel… giddy. Happy, dare you say it.

And it’s something you swallow down and hide every time it bubbles to the surface, fearing that it’ll be nothing more than the same story as your mother: a heart broken by the letdown of not ever being enough, not being what the man actually wanted, and not being genuinely cared for.

The mug of coffee in your hands grows hot, almost scalding against the skin of your palms. It brings you out of your own mind, just in time to hear your phone vibrate with more text messages, all still from your cousin.

Because apparently fate dropped a man in your lap that was more than ready to give you anything and everything you’ve ever wanted: unconditional love on a gold platter; fate decided that you finally deserve a break from strife and grief, that you deserved to stop eating humble pie, because lord knows you’ve done choked and damn near suffocated on that shit; that you deserved to be cherished and loved and made to be someone’s number one in their life.

You know. You fucking know what Sukuna does to you, how he makes you feel inside. You also know how he wants to treat you and the things he wants to do to you. And perhaps with you, if your gut instinct is right and he wants more than a body to warm his bed.

Who are you kidding? You know you’re right.

But it’s unfortunate for you that all you’ve learned to do is bottle up your feelings and act like they don’t exist. Because you’ve never been loved, not romantically anyway. Especially not like this, from someone like this.

How were you supposed to love? What did it really mean to be in a relationship? You’ve never been in one. Not one that ever really was going to go as far as this. Was what you were feeling all temporary? And if you did get into a relationship, what if he didn’t like you when you got comfortable? What if he didn’t like it when you laughed too hard, or any of the habits you have? What if he was just wanting to play savior and ended up leaving you a few months from now?

You toss your head back and groan. Why? Why was this happening to you?

You opt to spend the day inside, rather than go out like you had planned. You have to text Shoko and Utahime, letting them know that you’re not going to be able to participate in their plans of going out and visiting shrines for the new year. The latter is reasonably mad, but Shoko calms her down in the group chat. Although she does make an innuendo about spending the day with someone else “cozied up in bed” rather than them. You send her a side eye emoji in return on her personal thread.

You change out of your pajamas and into some casual clothes — a dark red long sleeve and some black sweatpants, switching to house socks to regular socks — despite not intending to go out for the day. You do end up on the couch for most of the day, switching your attention from the TV and the messages on your phone more than you care to admit. You hardly eat, and don’t realize it until you can feel your stomach against your spine each time.

All day is basically wasted in front of the television, trapped in your own mind. Trapped in the whirlwind that Sukuna has made of your heart and emotions.

You graze through your entire stock of sweets in less than a day, uncaring if it was unhealthy. Dusk settles on the horizon before you know it and you’re anything but tired. In fact, you’re wide awake.

“What do I do…?” you ask into the open air. You feel stupid doing it, but apparently fate has a response for you.

It’s 9:18 at night when several strong knocks rap at your door.

It’s 9:20 when you decide to finally answer the door.

It’s 9:24 when you realize you’ve got a guest at the front door, the very same man who’s been making you question yourself and your whole life ever since coming to this country.

It’s 9:30 when you question to yourself why you let him in. You didn’t think it through, that much you’re sure of. How could you be when he’s thrown your heart all topsy-turvy and mushed it into goo?

Just looking at him from his back floods your mind and makes your heart race, something you hope you’re able to hide by what you hope is a face of indifference and calmness. You can see the tattoos peek out from his turtleneck, and you have to gulp down your nervousness.

The large mug of fruity tea you’ve poured has now chilled, the ice just barely clinking in the glass. You quickly open the cookie jar on the counter and shove two snickerdoodles in your mouth to stress-eat being prepared for what was coming next.

“I…” you begin, and embarrassingly realize you have to swallow the cookies to talk. “I wasn’t expecting you to… show up.”

Sukuna’s silent for a moment, then replies stoically, “Neither was I.”

You gaze at him longer than you intend to. Your attention is mostly on his tattoos, the little bits that are peeking out from the deep crimson of his form-fitting turtleneck. You watch him readjust the watch on his wrist, partially revealing the tattoo inked onto his wrist. To your surprise, Sukuna actually doesn’t like showing off his tats. He used to in his younger years; he’s still proud of them, but he isn’t as much into flaunting them to the world nowadays.

Sukuna’s deep voice cuts through the air. “Have you… gotten my gift?”

You bite your lower lip. You nod even though he can’t see you. “Yeah… If you mean the one involving my grandmother, then yes.”

“I do apologize if I crossed any lines doing such a thing,” he says. “But I don’t regret it.”

“I can imagine you don’t,” you reply, knowing full-well that him regretting anything was a very rare occurrence. “But… Why? Why would you do that? Go through such trouble to help me… and my family? Just… Why?”

His ginormous frame turns to face you to look into your eyes and answer with nothing short of honesty, “Because I want you to be cared for. I’ve seen happiness in your eyes and I want to keep you happy. I want to be the one making you happy.”

“Buying my love will only get you so far,” you say.

“I know. I want to do more for you. I want… to be more for you. Not just… this. Whatever we have going on,” Sukuna admits casually, crossing his burly arms over his chest. But he doesn’t make eye contact. In fact, he keeps his eyes to the floor, away from your gaze. “I know what I want, although I’m not quite sure how to describe everything I feel… when I’m with you and when I think about you. It’s… I know what it is, I’m pretty sure, but at the same time… I don’t.”

“It’s new for you,” you mumble. Surprisingly, he actually hears you and nods. He doesn’t lie. Not with you.

“I’ve been with many women over the years, all for the same reason. I’ve never felt like falling in love or that it would ever matter. I know lust, I know what comes with that. With you, it’s anything but. At first, yes. But your immediate rejection, you continuing to keep your distance from me and your distaste known made me stop and think.”

You raise your brows. “All it took was a girl with some strong boundaries to make you realize you can’t live off being just horny for then rest of your life?”

Sukuna laughs. He actually laughs. A bright smile crosses his handsome face as his shoulders shake with laughter. He tries to cover it up with a hand, but all it does it muffle it into loud chuckles. It takes a good couple minutes before his chuckles finally fall into a simple smile of amusement. That’s when you admit your own truths. If you were going to be hurt, you might as well get it over with.

“In a way,” Sukuna admits. And then he admits even more, opening his heart and putting it on his sleeve. “You’ve reminded me that there is more to life, that I can be genuinely happy beyond office walls and red light districts. You have made me remember what feeling excited, what being on my toes feels like. You make the air lighter… happier, every time I see you. You… I care for you.”

Sukuna’s last words of admission are watered-down and you both know it. Then again, he says he is new to these kinds of feelings. And at this point, you believe him. You wonder if he knows that you’re just like him — exactly the same: that you’re new to the feelings of love, what it means to be in love. It’s confusing, really. You’re not sure where to begin when it comes to saying the things that Sukuna has seemingly had no problem admitting to you. You can’t just say, “Ditto” and make out with him.

Well, you could, but that’s beside the point.

You swallow the frog in your throat and look at him. He isn’t looking at you but at the ground, almost like he’s unsure of himself.

“You’ve made yourself a cozy place inside me, too,” you speak softly. Your hands don’t leave the mug as you set it on the counter. “We’ve only known each other for barely half a year, you know? You make me wonder if what I’m feeling is love, most of the time. I enjoy you; I enjoy your company. I enjoy the thrill you bring into my life. I… enjoy how weightless you make the world feel. I… I like the thought of being… prioritized. I’m just… confused on whether or not these feelings are rooted in love or something else entirely.”

“And I apologize for making you feel that way,” he replies. “That isn’t my intention.”

You’re quick to your words before he can continue. “Don’t apologize. Please. It’s not your fault. I… I’ve never been in a relationship. I don’t know what love is or what it’s supposed to feel like. I’ve never been loved, and I’m not quite sure how to reciprocate it. I’m afraid I’ll fuck up. Say the wrong thing, not do something right.”

Sukuna’s brows furrow. “There is no right or wrong way to be in a relationship — just yourself.”

“I’ve heard that, just as much as I’ve heard otherwise.”

Silence fills your apartment. You tap your nails against the glass mug, little tinks! resounding. You can’t look at Sukuna now. Not after just admitting to having never been in a romantic relationship. Now, you must seem more of your age than you ever have in his eyes.

“Any insecurity you have is not invalid. I would never disrespect them,” Sukuna finally says, sheer conviction making you shiver.

The giant man stands to take his place not even a foot from you. Magnetism draws you to his face and you cannot look away. His hand comes up and brushes his large fingers across your cheek.

And like an open book, he reads you from the front cover to the very last word, reading off your exterior cover and the interior pages you’ve hidden away. “You’ve carved yourself from early maturity, into someone that your loved ones have needed you to be. You’ve never been able to truly be yourself, be free. You’ve always had to be the rock that everyone has needed, when no one has been for you. You desire to be loved, but not at the expense of heartbreak nor sacrificing the person you’ve molded yourself into for the people you love. You desire to be free above all else, not wanting to be loved unless there’s someone who can love you and give you your freedom at the same time.”

You gape, eyes almost as wide as saucers with your eyelids lined with burning tears. You dip your head and sniffle.

“I want that. I want that for you. I want to be the one to give that to you,” Sukuna continues. “The time we spent together not even a week ago, I want more of that. I no longer want to live the way I’ve been living. I want to live with you, do those kinds of things with you. That sounds corny as fuck coming from me of all people, but that’s the truth.”

You can’t help but laugh. His tone of exasperation at himself was just too funny not to.

“And what happens when you give me those things? Will you be done with me? Move on to the next person?” you ask. “Once you’ve played the part of the savior, won’t those feelings end?”

“I’ll never be done with you,” he answers instantaneously, like it was nothing short of law. “You’ve captivated me, all of me. I’ve already tried pulling myself away a multitude of times. But then one little word of anything about you and you’re all I think about for the rest of the day.”

You sniffle again and laugh. “Did you practice this? You sound like a poet.”

“I can be one if you’d like.” You giggle at that. It’s silly, but you feel like Sukuna would oblige you if you said yes. “But I mean it, every word.”

You nod and whisper, “I know you do.” Because it’s the truth. He’ll never not mean anything he says. Brutal honesty is apart of Sukuna.

The emptiness of your apartment is deafening, it’s silence almost palpable to the point where you feel like you might being to suffocate. But large, firm hands cup your cheeks and bring oxygen into your lungs again.

His hands are warm, so warm. The feeling of being touched like this, so intimately, makes all the blood flow to your cheeks to the point where you think you’ll overheat.

“May I kiss you?” he asks, tone quiet, voice deep and baritone that makes shivers roll up your spine. “At least once?”

You can’t help but bite into your lower lip. The suffocating feeling has returned, just for a different reason. But your instinct goes first — action taking the initiative over the brain — and you nod once more, mumbling out a small “yes” that you chastise yourself for being so meek.

Sukuna’s free arm wraps around your waist and gently pulls you to your tippy-toes. You’re running on instinct, one hand resting on his chest, the other circling behind his neck, eyelids slowly closing as he dives in for the kiss you’ve allowed. And when his hand cradles the back of your head, his lips meet yours, and you swear to everything from heaven to hell that you’re about to explode and die in this man’s arms.

Everything feels like it’s on fire… until it doesn’t. That fire slowly simmers down to a gentle flame, one that brings a sense of contentment.

Sukuna tilts his head, moving your lips and deepening the kiss. You allow it, and it feels like the kiss has sunk to a new depth of desire. Dare you even think or say it be devotion. His lips are warm and sweet on yours; his kiss isn’t one of urgency, but perhaps the desperation of longing. It’s not slow and controlling, not greedy. Whatever this kiss is and all the emotions contained within, you know it makes you at peace and content.

Everything feels perfect.

You both part for air, lips slow to disconnect. You can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed being so out of breath, but hearing the slight heaviness of breath coming from the large man makes you feel less awkward.

“Thought you said you hadn’t been in a relationship before?”

Your reply is breathless, “Never have.”

“Then you must be a naturally good kisser.”

That makes you laugh. You press your head to his chest and giggle away, to which you hear what you think is a chuckle from his throat.

It’s 11:20 at night by the time you look at the clock again. It’s too late for Sukuna to go home. That’s the excuse you use anyway. He’s seemingly more than happy to use the excuse right along with you to spend a night with you.

Come morning, however, things shift back to the way they were before: confusing and lonely. The couch was just as empty as the apartment. Under you was not Sukuna’s body, but a stack of pillows from your bedroom.

The note on the counter about being called in for an important meeting doesn’t do his absence justice either, instead sending every one of your walls back up, twice as high and just as thick as they were before.

Your phone dings with new messages. Utahime and Shoko, both of which declare they’re coming over to drag your ass out of your apartment to go shopping like you should’ve yesterday.

You text them back, telling them you’ll meet them at the mall, that you’re going to get ready and this time you aren’t going to miss out.

You don’t know what to do or what to think. You don’t know if one night of vulnerability means anything more than just being open with another human being. All you know is that you need a break, from yourself, your confusion, from life, and especially from Sukuna.

You need the clarity of a shopping trip and good friends for company, because your hopes for what’s coming next are getting far too high and you’re beginning to really fall in love with Sukuna Ryomen.

taglist: (no longer adding)

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #modern! sukuna #modern! au #jjk sukuna #sukuna fluff

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ordowrites · 22 days

Text

Of Archery and Apples

cw: smut, slow burn, arranged marriage, afab reader, minors dni, mdni. reader is mentioned to have an abusive family, but nothing shown. fluff, gentle sex, not sfw. diluc frequently asking for consent. reader has a vision. please let me know if i'm missing a warning!

word count: 6,509

notes: this is a pretty long slow burn and build up, so be warned!! this is also unbeta'ed. this also gets pretty fluffy at the end.

diluc birthday month!!

He's avoiding you, you can say this for certain - he was barely present at your wedding ceremony, only staying until it was socially acceptable to hurry off, politely engaging in conversation here and there, and his kiss was simply a quick peck on the lips. Of course, the vows were very basic and quick but you figured it's because he's not exactly the best at words.

The business man being terrible at social engagement is quite the entertaining thought, or well, you would normally think so if this wasn't you trying to navigate this new marriage. You'd known Diluc Ragnvindr in your childhood, the two of you had exchanged a whole handful of words but you remember very clearly how social he'd been back then. You remember him, very clearly, sneaking some living frogs into a maid's pockets at some social event with his adoptive brother glued to his side. And you also remember how much chaos it had caused - expensive red wine being spilled, some screams, and you - little old you - had managed to sneak a sip of wine amidst it all. His father, Crepus Ragnvindr, had to pull both his sons aside, while apologizing profusely and Diluc sobbing his eyes out over getting caught.

The other few times you remember of him was when he'd been in the Knights of Favonious - chivalrous, well loved, everyone talked about him with pride in their voices. "Mondstadt's Pride and Joy'', is what they'd call him - he was sure to take the Grandmaster's job once Varka grew too old for his position and nobody would fight nor question it.

You two had talked during that time, exchanging names and he'd given you some flowers because you'd looked lonely and "everyone deserves flowers!" You'd thanked him, albeit very shyly, avoiding eye contact because the heir of the biggest name in Mondstadt was paying attention to you. (And you barely remember what made you so sad, though you're sure it had to do with one of your fathers outbursts.) A small part of you wonders if he remembers that.

The reasoning for your arranged marriage with him is not lost on you - Ragnvindr is a household anyone would want to be part of, the Young Master was the most eligible and the promise was made between your father and Crepus a long time ago. The two, from what you understand, had been close friends in their youth and worked closely with one another, even if you - personally - never met his sons. Of course, once Crepus had passed - a few months before your own eighteenth birthday - you figured that the arrangement was done and over with, and your mother would cart you off with some older man in another country.

Except, that wasn't the case - three years later and you received an invitation from the Dawn Winery. Diluc was still keeping up his fathers promise, but the two of you hadn't even seen each other in adulthood. And your first meeting after that was uncomfortable and awkward - he'd done his engagement with you, but it was clear that he had no idea how to navigate any of this. (Not like you did, either).

The wedding still happened - you'd begged for it to be small, but your mother does not do things small. And Diluc merely wanted it to be done and over with, and you'd spent your entire wedding day apologizing profusely and him reassuring you that he doesn't really care, the mora doesn't matter.

And now, four months into the marriage, you're still trying to even get a glimpse of your elusive and quiet husband. The two of you don't even share a bedroom, and you often find yourself in a confused haze, wandering around the Winery and vineyard with very little to do. A good wife stays at home, cooks and cleans, but you can't do that because he has maids doing that and they shoo you off if you even try to help. Your embroidery skills have a lot left to be desired and whenever you offer assistance in the vineyard, you're told not to worry about it.

Boredom left you asking the head maid for something to do and Adelinde had given you a few tasks to do, you just had to organize things and that was about it. The manor is well staffed, there isn't much work for you to do, is what she'd told you. Perhaps Master Diluc would like your company.

Oh yes, your dear, beloved husband who seems to be avoiding you. Archons, you'd much rather be working for the Adventurer's Guild. You're proficient in archery because you had begged your mother into letting you learn, it was the only way she could get you to do anything else she'd wanted. Of course, being someone of nobility means that your only job is to be a dutiful spouse who bears children and stays at home, but you're going insane.

What most people don't know about the manor is that he does have a small weapons collection - some swords, a few bows and arrows, his great sword, and other things. You're not sure why he needs this armory, but you'd happened upon it one day in your usual afternoon hauntings of the hallway when staff locked you out of the busier places they'd be. (Of course, you'd be more than happy to receive guests but apparently, that's the Head Maid's job and you feel slightly insulted your husband can't even trust you with the business of the Winery)

With the bow and a few arrows in hand, you meander outside - unnoticed by the staff as they rush around for one reason or another (rumors have it that the Traveler is visiting today or someone equally important) - and find a secluded spot to start shooting.

Place the arrow, draw the string, shoot. Repeat.

You're, by no means, an expert but you like to think you're pretty good. You knock down quite a few apples, but you never aim for animals - you repeat this until your fingers are sore and hurting. Still, you load up the arrow again, point, and -

"What are you doing?"

The voice cuts your concentration and you let out a yelp of surprise, releasing the arrow in a loose and awkward manner.

"Archons! I could have shot you!" You shout as you turn to look at the person who broke your concentration. It takes you a few moments to realize who had approached you, arms crossed over his chest, and an unimpressed look on his face. "Oh, sorry, Master Diluc. I thought you were someone else."

"I didn't know you do archery." He says, hardly acknowledging your words as he steps closer. "You're pretty good."

"Of course I am," you boast. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He considers his words and you frown at him, as if daring him to say anything untoward and awful. "Not a lot of nobles take it upon themselves to become proficient in weaponry," he finally answers. You're pretty sure he's spoken to you more now than he ever has in the entire time you've known each other. "Anyways, Add- Adelinde was calling for you. It's time for dinner."

"Will you be joining?" You ask as you pick up what fallen arrows you could, frowning when you realized that there's no way you could re-use them. At least you have yourself a handful of apples. "Or will you be assisting the Traveler with some things?"

"Ah - well," Diluc seems to be stumbling over his words now. It's as if he's remembering he's married to you, and you're not some familiar stranger who has decided to hunker down in his home. "If I have your okay, I would certainly like to join you for dinner."

You're handing him the apples, and he's taking them into his arms without question. You wonder if you could get away with just...handing him things and if he'd noticed. Because his eyes are trained away from you, at the horizon. His face is a tiny bit red.

"Are you not the master of the house and my husband?" You prompt. "Why would you seek permission to have dinner in your own home, with your own spouse?"

He opens his mouth to say something and closes it again. He doesn't know how to talk to you, you realize.

"What are all these for?" Diluc asks, awkwardly changing the subject.

"You eat them." You answer, as if he doesn't comprehend what apples are for. "Obviously."

He makes a noise that sounds like an annoyed growl but seems to drop the subject as he is a good husband and carries the dozen apples back, just for you.

Dinner is quiet - he's been joining you for dinner nightly now, and every time, it's just quiet. The soft clinking of silverware, and he keeps his head down as if it's hard to look at you. Sometimes, Adelinde whispers something in his ear and he'd have to look up, but not at you.

You think this is worse than eating by yourself. And he's always quick to leave once he's finished, thanking Adelinde and uncomfortably wishing you a good night.

One thing you noticed now, is that you're not without apples since that day. And there's more arrows stocked in his armory.

"Master Diluc thinks they're your favorite fruit," Adelinde explains as you ask her one day. "He ordered quite a bit. I think it's a bit too much for one person to eat, and I can only use them for so many recipes."

"Rumors have it that the Anemo Archon loves apples," you tell her. "Leave 'em out as an offering."

The head maid laughs a bit. "Perhaps. I'm not sure why he won't ask you about the things you do like."

"He'd learn things about me - and I, about him - if he stayed longer than the thirty minutes it takes him to finish his dinner." You say as you inspect one of the red fruits. Bruiseless, perfect, round. And juicy, when you bite into it. (You're sick of snacking on them, but hey, he bought them so you might as well make sure they don't waste away) "I timed him one night." You clarify after a moment.

"Yes, well, the Master is a very busy man." Adelinde says, after a moment. You're unsure if she's displeased with your comments about him - the staff is very loyal to Diluc. Of course they would be, he’s their employer and he treats them way better than most people of his status. You’re pretty sure he pays them pretty well on top of that - considering the servant houses are well constructed and well kept. "It cannot be helped."

"Sure," you simply agree, not wanting to anger the one that is in charge of quite...literally everything in the household that Diluc doesn't oversee. "But perhaps he could make time in his busy schedule for me?"

"One could only hope." Adelinde says. "Perhaps you'd like to entertain yourself with other means?" It's a polite way of kicking you out of her kitchen.

You grab an extra apple and head out. Diluc is in his study - you're surprised that he's stationed himself there. You're even more surprised when he looks up at you.

"You missed breakfast and lunch." you say, after a long stretch of silence. A small part of you wonders if you'd be having children right now if you had a husband who actually wanted to be at your side, instead of carrying an apple in your hand. "Have you eaten?"

Diluc regards you for a moment, before glancing at the small plate with crumbs of some confectionery on it and an empty tea cup.

"...At some point." he says as he looks back down at his papers.

You set the uneaten apple down on his desk.

"We apparently have an overabundance of apples," you inform him with a small smile. "Do your part and eat some then."

Diluc stares at it as if he's never seen an apple before. "Right," he says, after a moment. "Right. Yes. Thank you." The way he says your name sounds lovely but strange, like he's sounding it out. "There's a target range outside."

You quirk a brow and head out.

The target range is simple - it resembles something the Hilichurls would use, but you can at least practice your aim.

Your evening goes quietly - Diluc joins you for dinner again. Tonight it's your favorite meal.

"How come you don't go to Mondstadt anymore?"

Huh? You look at him with surprise.

"Well, I guess...I don't know. Most of my friends are married and have kids or like, moved." Because if you saw your parents, you might cry is the real answer.

"The maids tell me you're bored." You're likely to become the tale of a poltergeist haunting the Ragvnidr mansion, a tale for the children to tell for ages to come. "You can get a job in the city if you'd like. Come work at the Angel's Share."

"With you?"

His face tinges red and he clears his throat. "Maybe."

"How 'bout the Cat's Tail?"

A silence. A grumble.

"If you must." Diluc sounds resigned at the thought - you, however, find yourself wanting to work with the cats at that cute tavern but you wouldn’t actually do that to Diluc, regardless of the current standing you’re both in. You’re not even sure what kind of work you want to do, but bar work doesn’t sound all that great for you (or a match). You decide to let him think you’re willing to work with the competition.

It's in the middle of the night when you're woken up to something - a sound. You've always been a light sleeper and the Manor is always so silent at this hour. There's some shifting, you let out a breath when you feel a familiar but comforting sense of energy around you.

When you fully wake up, you're met with your Vision at your bedside. It flows with familiarity, glowing when you touch it. The Electrical element gives you more energy than you thought you’d ever imagine-

You'd received it in your teens and your mother confiscated it from you. She claimed you had no need for it - someone like you does not deserve it. After all, Visions are only for people who are worthy and who are you to believe you're worthy of such a blessing?

How?

You wonder if Adelinde had quietly dropped it off or if -

Would he? Diluc? The man who can barely stand being in the same room as you? Hardly. Maybe an Archon chose to give it back to you.

With energy that you haven't had in ages, you dress and head down for breakfast. Diluc is there.

"Good morning," he says, barely glancing at you. His face is tinged red again.

"What a lovely surprise," you say. "Truly blessed by the Archons today to see my husband."

He makes a soft 'hmph' sound. "Were you not complaining about never seeing me?"

"I'm glad you came."

Diluc gives no answer.

He heads to Mondstadt Proper, offering you a chance to come along - but you decline. You'd rather practice what you were blessed with. Also, you’re not really up for seeing anybody you know at the moment - you’d rather not field questions on what it’s like to be married to the Diluc Ragnvinidr. Sure, it’s bragging rights but neither of you even share a bed and barely speak to one another as is.

He is back by lunch.

And you are a bit singed - bruised but energetic from practicing with your Electro Vision. It glows at your side.

Diluc looks pleased.

"You seem happier these days." Adelinde says as you enter the kitchen for your daily snack of the never ending abundance of apples. They even taste sweeter. "Have you told the Master to stop ordering these apples for you?"

"I prefer that they become part of our nightmares," you answer her with a small shrug. Adelinde gives you an odd look. "'sides, they're an alright snack."

You snag one extra one and bid her a quick goodbye as you head to Diluc's office. As before, you set the apple down for him to eat.

This time, you stay.

"Is there something you need?"

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

So, you gesture to the Vision that hangs at your side. “If you brought this to me, thank you.” Diluc peeks at it and says nothing. “The apples too, but the maids seem displeased with those.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Am I bothering you?”

“No.” he answers, tensely. “I’m just…don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Silence falls over you, and you look everywhere but at him as he pointedly stares at his desk. “Um-”

“So why are you ordering an over abundance of apples?”

“Do you not like them? I can order something else. Sunseittas, those fruits from Fontaine, anything-”

“N-no, they’re fine.” You force out, interrupting him before Diluc works himself into some sort of anxiety induced panic attack. “They’re perfect, thank you.” You need to learn to put your foot down, but you didn’t want to accidentally upset him and think you hated how kind he was, even if the apples were a bit much. Hopefully Adelinde will talk to him instead.

–

It's been a week since the two of you have last exchanged any sort of conversation or words - the schedule went back to relatively normal. He’s there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner now - sometimes, there’s an uncomfortable invitation for tea and no conversation to flow with it. You find yourself wondering if Diluc even knows what he wants at this point, even when you try to better engage with him, he seems to barely meet your eyes this days and barely responds so you tend to dominate the conversation.

“Is something wrong, Diluc?” you finally ask, during afternoon tea, one day. He’d barely touched his own tea and his eyes lowered with shame on his beautiful face. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he says, after a moment and clears his throat. “My apologies, I was daydreaming, that’s all.”

“About me?” You tease, unable to help the fact you noticed how he looked at you earlier - with this strange look of longing and hunger. But he always acts as if there is a barrier between the two of one, and if he broke that barrier…of what might happen afterwards. You have to swallow a giggle when his face goes redder and he looks away. “Wait - really?”

“M-my apologies. It seems I have some important matters to get to.”

Now it’s your turn to be red faced and shying away - watching as Diluc walks away before you can muster up the bravery to call out to him to come back.

What a great start to your marriage, you think sarcastically as you wander the halls again - confused as to what to do. It’s been what, two months? Since the two of you got married now. Something like that, and what looked like behavior starting to change for the better, was now becoming a problem again. You let out a heavy sigh and sit down on a bench in the garden, burying your face in your hands. Maybe this marriage really is a sham - maybe you could get a divorce, no harm, no foul. Nobody would blame you for that, right? Or him.

You do not go down for dinner that night - feeling way too humiliated over what had happened between the two of you. It takes a week to be brave enough to be in the same vicinity as him, or well, you would be but your husband isn’t anywhere to be seen. With a sigh, you decide to venture out on your own for a while, armed with the wooden bow that’s intended more for practice than actual self defense and some arrows. It isn’t like there are any hilichurls or treasure hoarders who linger nearby or even in the vicinity of the Dawn Winery.

As you wander along the shore of the riverbank behind the Winery, you find yourself lost in your own thoughts - puzzling together the enigma that is your husband. He avoids you sometimes, and a lot of the time, doesn’t seem to know what to do with you, as if he’s surprised you’re there whenever he sees you. You know you can be pretty shy, but this man takes it to another level. You know Diluc had suffered a tragic loss or two, and you know he can be pretty closed off and rough around the edges, but this feels just ridiculous.

You pluck flowers as you go along - Calla Lily’s, Lamp Grass, really, whatever catches your eye. You figure you could spruce up your room some with decorations, now that it’s been bare for close to five months. It’s not as if you’re forbidden from decorating, it’s just that you haven’t felt like it just in case something happened within your marriage that would ruin that time and effort.

When dusk hits the horizon, you finally force yourself to trek back to the manor, flowers in one hand, your makeshift weapon in the other. As the manor appears in your sights, you decide you won’t go inside just yet - though you’re sure everyone is worried about your disappearance, you don’t particularly care right now.

Diluc is sitting on a stone bench in the garden, his eyes downcast and a small frown on his face and you stop dead in your tracks. You can’t help but think of how beautiful he looks with the sun setting behind him, casting soft hues on his face, his red hair down and waving with the soft winds. Beautiful but sad.

“Hey.” you greet, finally catching his attention.

“Where have you been?” he asks, quickly getting to his feet. “You left and you didn’t say anything to anyone, I thought you were hurt!”

“Sorry, Master Diluc,” you say, sheepishly. “I just went for a walk and lost track of time.” Diluc reaches out, as if he wants to touch you and hug you but withdraws just as quickly. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I should have said something.”

You hold the flowers you had plucked from your impromptu adventure.

“Some flowers because everyone deserves flowers.” You echo something from the past and his beautiful red eyes widen for a moment. “Remember? You said that to me once. So here, some flowers because I think you need some.”

Tentatively, he reaches out, accepting them from your outstretched hand. Your face, you realize, is red and not because it’s sunburned.

“Thank you.” he murmurs. You remember, once, that Adelinde had mentioned he likes Lamp Grass.

–

Diluc puts any flowers you give him in vases that sit in the best spots in the manor - you’d found that he really likes to receive them as gifts, so you go out of your way to find them out in the wild and present them to him like a dog presenting the fruits of its hunt. He always looks much happier when he receives these flowers, and the manor looks a bit better too - the artwork, you always thought was a bit bleak (but never said anything because apparently Master Crepus painted some of them) and the whole place just needs more color.

He stays around now, to talk to you or to be around you even if neither of you talk. It feels normal, like what a normal, married couple would do. But maybe the two of you just aren’t normal - he most certainly isn’t.

Sometimes, Diluc leaves for the city in the evenings and always says that it’s a night shift at the tavern so Charles can have a night off or two. You don’t think much of it, so long as you can actually see your husband more frequently, he still has his job to do.

It’s late, and you haven’t even considered going to bed yet - despite having taken a bath and switching into a nightgown because summer nights in Mondstadt are hot and you’re a bit too absorbed into the book you’d been reading since after dinner time. So, you’re slung on the couch, with a blanket on your lap and legs (sliding off, of course) as you get more and more engrossed in the mystery romance that you’d found in Diluc’s library. The downpour of the rain outside only adds to the ambience and it makes you quite sleepy.

Neither of you were sure when the Master of the house was going to be home, so when it came close to midnight, you insisted that Adelinde head to bed. You’re Diluc’s spouse, after all, you can greet him and take care of him when he gets home. There was a moment where the head maid looked like she was going to argue this with you, but she’d decided against it. It’s about two in the morning when you’re falling asleep, half slipping off the couch yourself when you hear the front door open a bit louder than usual. This startles you from your sleep, and you get up, making your way to see who has the audacity and the bravery to try to break into the manor.

“Diluc?!” you gasp as you rush forward, trying to quell the Electro energy that had been surging in you, ready to attack. He looks like a pathetic wet cat at this moment, hair sopping wet and sticking to his face, clothes just as drenched, his clothes askew and torn, he smells a bit burned. “Are you okay?” Your arm is already snaking around him, and he can’t even look at you. “Archons, you’re warm. C’mon, let’s get you upstairs and in bed.”

“I’m -” he stutters out. Clears his throat. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” You answer, a bit more snappishly than intended. He doesn’t fight you as you help him up the winding staircase and down the hall - into the master bedroom. “What happened?”

“I got caught in the downpour is all.” he says, still unable to meet your gaze. You’re already working to unbutton his shirt to make sure he isn’t injured anywhere that you can’t see. There’s a few bruises and welts forming on his body. “H-hey, I said I’m fine.”

“Why won’t you let me help you?” You ask, pulling away - feeling more hurt and exasperated than you think you should be. “Diluc, I’m your wife and you won’t even look at me.” Despite your words, he’s doing his best to look everywhere but at you. “Diluc, look at me.”

Carefully, he lifts his gaze to yours - his eyes are so enticing. His face is a little bit red, and you think you catch his eyes drifting downward for a moment before meeting your own eyes again.

“What happened?” You prompt.

“I got caught in the downpour.” Diluc answers, simply. “There was a - there was a treasure hoarder lurking outside of Mondstadt’s walls.”

“You got into a fight?”

“Yes, but I’m fine. They aren’t worth much energy or attention.” You sigh and rub your forehead. “It’s just a little bit of rain, I’m honestly more lucky you didn’t try to electrocute me.” It’s an attempt at a joke, one where he’s forcing a smile but you can’t bring yourself to return it. “I…I don’t know what you want me to say or do.”

“As long as you’re okay.” you tell him, finally resigned. “It’s late, we both should go to bed. Um…Adelinde will lose her mind tomorrow when she sees you tracked mud on her clean floors but I’ll take the blame for that.” You bid him a quick good night, turning to leave him to his own devices if he doesn’t actually need your help.

“Hey, wait.” His voice is slightly strained. Your hand is on the brass knob and you look over at him, watching as he gets up and takes a few strides towards you. Before you could ask what he needs, his lips brush up against yours for a brief moment. The kiss is soft and he breaks away after a moment, his thumb caressing your cheek. You tilt your head to the side, trying to comprehend what he just did. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “I should have asked.”

“So ask.” You whisper, feeling oddly cheeky.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he does so. He clears his throat, a nervous habit of his. “Then, may I kiss you again?”

“Yes.” You murmur and he pulls you in for another kiss, this time more certain - needier. You find yourself melting into his touch, leaning against him as the two of you make it back to his bed. Clothes start to scatter around, his skin is weirdly dry to the touch (and you attribute it to his Pyro vision) but lovely anyways. There’s scars all over his body, your eyes rake over the muscle and old injuries, you start to ask him what happened but he stops you with another searing kiss. Tongue in mouth, teeth nipping at your lips. Soon, those lips, that hot mouth, find their way to your neck - biting and sucking.

But he always stops short of going down further, looking at you with hunger, looking unhinged with those red eyes and wild red hair and the soft glow of the candlelight. Your body aches with need.

“I wish to touch you.” he whispers.

“So touch me.” you breathe. That seems to be all he needs for him to remove those damn gloves, tossing them to the side. Teeth graze at a nipple, making you gasp and arch as his hand teases your other nipple. Lips move down further and further, searing kisses with soft bites that follow, and he tries to get every inch of your skin.

“So beautiful,” he breathes and gently bites your hip bone. Diluc kisses the area above your pubic bone, before moving to kiss along your thighs - teeth digging in deeper and he stops his ministrations right before hitting the spot you want him to focus on. Your eyes lock together. Your heart skips a beat when he bends down and presses his lips against your clit, tenderly kissing at your wet cunt and you gasp. His tongue pokes out, giving your slit a curious lick before diving right in.

His lips and tongue work at you as if he were a starving man - the noises that escape you are lewd and embarrassing as he licks and sucks, a finger slowly working at your entrance. You gasp when he presses a finger inside of you - it’s bigger and thicker than your own, and you can’t help but squirm at the intrusion. Much to your dismay, he pulls away from your soaking cunt to look up at you, his face a mess.

“Are you okay?” his voice is raspy and he’s definitely drunk on your pussy. His face is about as red as his hair at this point, he’s panting slightly and oh, he looks more like a demon of temptation than anything sweet or angelic. Want is etched on every bit of his features and your slick shines on his lips.

“Just - ah - unused to the feeling.”

“Mm,” he gives your clit a lick and you gasp, tightening around the appendage that gently presses in a bit further. “Tell me if I hurt you.” At your nod, he dives right back in - and he slowly adds in another finger and you whine, your fingers finding perch in his soft, but soaked hair. He pays that no mind as he starts to move his fingers in and out, slowly stretching you until he curves them upwards and - oh. You see stars.

“Diluc!” You moan out, grinding against him now. “Fuck.” You’re pretty sure he’s probably grinning to himself. He continues to eat you out and fuck you with his fingers until you’ve ridden out your orgasm, and are more of a mess of noises and moans, fingers pulling at his hair.

He pulls away soon enough, and you stare up at him with slight disappointment - your body trembling from your orgasm and the cold air that hits your heated skin. Diluc trails his fingers along your torso, playing with your breasts for a few moments.

“You’re perfect like this.” Diluc murmurs. Unable to properly formulate a reply, all you can do is reach to meet his hands for a brief moment until you find him gripping one of your legs and under your waist, pulling you flush close to him. “Remember to tell me if I hurt you too much.” You nod, watching him give his cock a few pumps, some pre-cum shining at the tip and you can’t help but feel a sense of nervousness. Sure, you’ve had sex with a partner or two before but that still doesn’t alleviate the anticipation or worry, considering his size. “We don’t have to do this.” He tells you, softly.

“I want to.” You murmur. He guides himself to your slick entrance, gently teasing your folds with the head of his cock for a moment, watching in delight as your eyes close and you push yourself closer, trying to encourage him. Once his head penetrates, you can’t help but reach to grip his arm. He shifts, gently pushing himself in, inch by inch, and your hands finally find each other. Soon enough, Diluc’s bottomed out - your legs on either side of his waist as his hands hold yours down on the bed. And oh, you feel so full - stretched out on his cock.

He stays still for a few minutes, peppering your face and neck with kisses as he whispers words of affirmation - before slowly pulling out and pushing back in. He keeps a slow pace at first, watching your face and kissing you whenever you look like you’re about to cry out.

“So wet for me,” he breathes against your ear. “So good for me.” And those words go straight to your cunt, clenching around him. “Look at you, so needy for me.” Archons, you wonder what else you can get him so say in that tone. Maybe even filthier things.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you cling as he continues to fuck you - your second orgasm hitting you as hard as your first, this time you let out a shrill sound and a sob, your nails digging into his back. You think you hear him let out a hiss at that, but you don’t care as you dig your teeth into his shoulder to try to muffle your cries. There’s a taste of copper in your mouth so you let go, giving the bite wound an apologetic kiss.

“Mine.” he groans out, pace quickening. “Ah - I’m gonna -” His thrusts become harder, deeper and your legs lock around his waist as he bites and sucks at your throat, leaving hickies in his wake. He groans as he cums, his pace slowing down to shallow thrusts - the wet noises filling the air. Your muscles feel weak as your legs slowly free him, his cock finally slipping out - followed by a mess of his cum. Your arms fall away as well and much like before, his hands find yours as he kisses you, deeply. He shifts a bit so he isn’t caging you.

The kiss breaks, a string of saliva hangs between both your lips and he looks at you with want - like he could easily go another round.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, shifting to get up. “Do you need anything?” You reach out, catching his arm before he can actually get up and off the bed.

“Just…lay with me for a while.” Diluc looks at the mess you both made - or well, mostly him - with a sheepish and slightly ashamed look but he lays down next to you. “I just want to be next to you.”

“Okay,” he murmurs and nuzzles the crown of your head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He’s silent for a moment and you open your eyes. “Diluc, for what?”

“Avoiding you.” There’s some shame in his voice. “I-you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting you but couldn’t have you.”

“And why not?” you prompt as you sit up. “We’re married, aren’t we?”

“Well yes but -” he pauses for a moment, as if thinking. “I figured you hated me or resented me for our…arrangement. I didn’t want to impose.” You stare at Diluc, slightly stunned. “I know I sound ridiculous, but I would have thought you’d be against an arranged marriage. I remember when we were kids and you were telling everyone you’d never get married, that you were going to join the Adventurer’s Guild and become a famous adventurer.”

You snort. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do. You know, we were introduced when we were young, and when father said that the two of us were going to be married, you told him straight to his face that you’d never marry a boy.” Diluc lets out a soft sigh.

You snort back your laughter. “Did that upset you?”

“N-no.” He lets out a soft laugh. “I wish we’d been able to speak more while growing up but…I was busy. I think the last time we actually ever interacted was at some ball or party, you were crying over something and…”

“You gave me flowers.” you finish, quietly. “I remember that very distinctly. Honestly, you made my night way better for that. I’m surprised you remember that moment.”

Diluc frowns at you. “Of course I do. Father actually had a few choice words to your mother about making you cry like that.” He lets out a soft breath. “I actually went off out of the city to find the perfect flowers to give to you in hopes that it’d cheer you up. I…was lucky you hadn’t already left the city when I got back.”

“Thank you, Diluc,” you murmur. “Really.”

A comfortable quiet lapses between the two of you - his fingers stroking your hair. You could fall asleep like this. “If you still want to join the Adventurer’s Guild, I would not be opposed to it.” He finally says, quietly. “Or if you want to work in the city - it isn’t uncommon these days, and I fear your family was a bit too traditionalist in how they raised you.”

“Maybe.” you mumble. “I could work at the Cat’s Tail, give you a bit of trouble.”

He leans down and kisses you on the lips. “I’d much prefer you joining the Guild.” he murmurs against your lips. “I might even have bragging rights if you get better at not breaking my weapons that you get your hands on.”

“Hmm, I’ll consider it.” You curl up close to him, your eyes drooping shut. You feel him relax and rest next to you, his breath warm. “Diluc?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” You feel him kiss the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his hair tickling you as he does.

“I love you too, my flame.”

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #genshin x reader #diluc #genshin x y/n #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x you #diluc imagines #ordo.txt #ordo.text

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qierxing · 7 months

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A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.

TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”

“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”

“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”

— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll

vi. Mourning

It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.

Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.

So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly.

It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.

Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.

"Hey Ace?"

He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.

"Do you…like…being my friend?"

The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.

"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.

Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back.

"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"

Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."

He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.

"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far."

What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.

Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.

Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.

"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.

Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.

"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?"

Another question out of left field.

"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke.

"Yeah…" they murmur back.

"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.

"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"

"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"

Yuu shakes their head.

"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"

Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."

But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.

He should've known something was up since that night.

When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual.

"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.

The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.

Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-

-then what had he done?

When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that.

The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"

Bang! Bang!

He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.

"Yuu–!"

"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-

"Ace, look at me!"

He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.

There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while.

"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.

"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.

Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.

"What do you mean they're–"

"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."

Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–

He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.

He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"

"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."

And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.

He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.

Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.

But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.

Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.

Please let this be a bad dream.

He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things!

Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-

Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone.

Ace tried two more times to meet you.

First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.

The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.

Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).

It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.

He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter.

And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.

vii. Embalming

The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.

That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.

Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.

No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.

The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough.

He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.

It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now.

What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly.

The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.

It has your face. It acts like you.

But it's not you.

When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”

“You were so sure only because of that?”

He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.

But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.

Grim is missing again.

This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.

But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First].

The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).

But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.

The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.

“Go away.”

Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.

“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu.

“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”

“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”

His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.

“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”

He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”

“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”

“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.

“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”

It bursts into laughter at his face.

“Why, I only granted their wish!”

Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.

What did you wish for?

It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon.

In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations.

And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.

Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.

“Come in.”

A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.

“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in.

“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.

“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.

“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out.

"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.

“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.

“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”

He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”

Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation.

For once, he starts to resent not having more.

"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"

This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.

"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"

"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance.

"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes.

"Not the weird rules again…"

"Ace."

"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."

"You better, or else it's–"

"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…

Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander.

Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?

"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.

"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts.

“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”

“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”

For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.

“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.

But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in.

“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.

“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”

viii. Calling Hours

“I’m not joking around, you two.”

There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.

“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”

“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”

The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.

“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”

“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”

"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"

It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.

“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”

Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"

"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally."

Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."

The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.

"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.

"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."

Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.

A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.

"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"

"Don't even start." Trey groans.

Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—

A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."

Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement.

"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"

Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."

Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."

"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.

"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."

"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."

Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?

He supposes that was his fault, though.

"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"

The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."

Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."

"Yeah, but look how that turned out."

"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash.

"Cater."

There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'

"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.

"Please don't lie to me next time."

With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen.

Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.

Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?

It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.

It's just not fair.

Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-

He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.

He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.

Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.

There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.

“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.”

The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.

“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”

“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.

It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.

There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt.

Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough.

Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?

Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?

His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him.

"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"

You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards.

"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.

"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?"

Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."

The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…

But satisfaction brought it back.

viiii. Eulogy

It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.

That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.

Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.

“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him.

The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors.

“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.

“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)

“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”

Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved.

Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.

“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”

Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day.

He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?

Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”

“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”

Trey swallows hard.

“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”

“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”

He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.

Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.

—

Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).

But he worries.

Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges.

It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.

Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down.

He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.

As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.

If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants.

Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.

So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him.

He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute.

You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.

The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.

Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate.

The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes.

His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily.

He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other.

You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air.

What was that?

x. Entombment

It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.”

Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”

“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear.

Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.

His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.

“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back.

“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”

“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.”

Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.

“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.

“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.

It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…

“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.

“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary.

What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.

Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.

He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.

—

It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago.

To never get on Cater’s bad side.

There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you.

Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.

"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"

Deuce's neck prickles.

"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.

"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.

"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says.

“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”

“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.”

Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed.

“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”

“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.

“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”

“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”

Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak.

“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.

“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”

“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”

Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam.

“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone.

Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.

He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking.

Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #my works #damn this is the most ive ever written.....insane

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permanentswaps · 8 days

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A Second Lease - The Wedding

See the original from @mrwavellswaps here. Its probably my favorite story ever.

Five years had passed since I made the decision to seal myself into my son's body permanently. And let me tell you, it's been nothing short of ecstasy. Today, as I stand here in front of the mirror, adjusting my tie, I can't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. It's my wedding day, and I'm about to marry the love of my life, Sean.

As I straighten my tie, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I can't help but pause and appreciate the sight. I turn slightly, flexing my biceps, admiring the sculpted physique that now defines me. The reflection staring back at me is a testament to the transformation I've undergone. This body, once my son's, now mine, is a masterpiece – sculpted muscles, flawless skin, and a confidence that radiates from every pore.

With a smirk, I run my hands over my chest, feeling the firmness of the muscles beneath my fingertips. I lift my shirt slightly, revealing the chiseled abs that now adorn my torso. It's a sight to behold, one that fills me with pride and satisfaction.

"You're looking good, Jay," I say to myself, unable to tear my gaze away from the mirror. I straighten my shirt and adjust my collar, feeling a surge of excitement as I prepare to embark on this new chapter of my life. Today is not just about marrying Sean; it's about celebrating the journey that has brought me to this moment.

There hasn't been a single day where I haven't felt thankful for the choice I made. I can still vividly remember the day I proposed to Sean. We were hiking in the mountains, surrounded by breathtaking views. I got down on one knee, my heart pounding with nervous excitement, and asked him to spend the rest of his life with me. The look of joy on his face as he said yes will forever be etched in my memory.

Meanwhile, my dad's life hasn't been as rosy as mine. Every month that went by, he still went back to the woods, hoping against hope that he can reverse the swap. I can't say I blame him. After all, since I've been in control, this body has only gotten better. But unfortunately for him, no matter how many times he threw coins into that mystical well, it still never worked.

As the years went on, I noticed he began to look older than before. Whereas I kept my hair neat and trimmed and – in my eyes – quite youthful, he let himself go a bit. His long hair was still handsome, but definitely aged him up.

As he struggled to hold onto his youth, I eventually succumbed to a bit of guilt and couldn't keep the truth from him any longer. I came clean about what happened – about how I made that wish and sealed our fates. And let's just say, he didn't take it well.

"I made the choice that was best for me, Dad. It's time you accepted it," I stated firmly.

He stormed off, cursing me as he walked. "This is how you fucking repay me?" he shouted. "And why does that make any sense? Even if you wanted to keep my body forever, why would you make it so that the well wouldn’t work on me anymore?"

You might be asking yourself the same question. Why did I make both our bodies impervious to magic? Well, to be honest, I needed to ensure that I would be the only Jay – no other versions to detract from the attention. Nobody to take away the perfect life that I was living. And someone to stand in my place, so people wouldn't make my life a hassle coming and asking what happened to my dad.

Looking back, I can't help but acknowledge the brilliance of my decision. I mean, come on, look at me – I'm hot, young, and irresistible. But I can't help but wonder what it would have been like to let myself keep this version of it forever. But hey, I still look amazing, and that's not changing anytime soon.

As for my dad, he refused to come to the wedding. I'm not surprised, really. Ever since I came clean about what happened, our relationship has been strained, to say the least. But you know what? It's no bother. Because at the end of the day, Sean is all I need.

As I stand in front of the mirror, lost in my thoughts, the sound of the door creaking open breaks the silence. Sean's presence behind me is electric, his hungry smirk sending a jolt of anticipation through my body. As he wraps his arms around my waist, I can't help but smile, feeling his warmth against my skin.

"You clean up well, babe," Sean's voice is like velvet, low and husky. His fingers trace along the contours of my chest, sending shivers down my spine. The warmth of his breath against my ear sends a thrill through me as he whispers, "But you know what would make this look even better?"

Before I can respond, our lips meet in a fiery, passionate kiss, igniting a blaze of desire between us. With a teasing tug, Sean rips off my shirt, leaving only the tie around my neck. "You're one sexy hunk," he murmurs, his gaze filled with hunger as he takes in my exposed chest.

Moving towards the bed, Sean takes hold of the tie, using it as a leash to guide me, a silent command that I'm more than willing to follow. As he lines up his cock against my eager hole, I can't help but marvel at his size, every thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through me.

"You've been putting in extra hours at the gym, babe," Sean chuckles sexily, his voice sending shivers down my spine. "I can tell."

He keeps pounding me. Its so good I can hardly stand it.

"God, Jay," Sean gasps, his voice strained with pleasure, "you feel so good."

Hearing him use that name, Jay, ignites a fire within me, fueling my desire as I flex my muscles, showing off for him.

As our passion builds, reaching its peak, we both find release our massive loads together, our bodies moving in perfect harmony as waves of ecstasy wash over us. In the aftermath, Sean's fingers trace patterns across my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. "You're amazing," he whispers, his voice filled with reverence and adoration.

As Sean puts his shirt back on, I can't help but voice my concern about staining it. But he just chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't worry, babe," he reassures me, "it'll dry. And then, when we're on the altar and dancing the night away, it'll be our sexy little secret."

Later, as we stand at the altar, preparing to exchange our vows, my mind drifts back to our passionate encounter. Aside from being extremely horny for him, I also feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the love and happiness that Sean brings into my life. Becoming Jay and making his life my own was definitely the right decision. And as Sean and I embark on this new chapter together, I'm ready for whatever lies ahead.

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

Text

It's Better On Top

i relate cause this was me a few months ago.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: small smut scene, overprotective brothers and a small spiral of panic

Summary: you've always wanted to sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed, it was sacrier than you thought and you need your boyfriend to help you get down

There was a child-like wonder to Peter’s room.

The wall’s were a muted tone, chosen by whichever maintenance man who hated the idea of color. To make up for the lack of personality he’s added his own. Posters from being a tween till now, you could make out the older ones by the wrinkles in the edges. Pictures from all ages bounced around the room, ones with May, Ned and you. You always liked to fawn over his childhood ones, he looked so small and loving. He’d gladly follow you in the back of the van to see your new puppy, a favorite is one where he’s perched on May’s shoulders so happy to be up high.

Awards and certificates of his genius covered any empty spots, only small peeks of the bland wall poked through. He had trinkets all around, figurines and collectables. He kept his prized ones on a shelf where he dusted once a week, the others floated on shelves, windowsills, or his desk. And the legos, he had sets everywhere, he hated breaking them apart after. It wasn’t about maintaining a pretty thing, it was about appreciating his frustration, concentration, and pride.

He can do hard things because they turn out beautiful in the end.

You caught the loose pieces, tucked in a plastic tub under his bed.

His bed. Your favorite part of his room, he had something you’ve always wanted before. You begged your parents for years but they never delivered, you never had friends with one either. They just looked so fun, a permanent sleepover. Something to open the room, more space to play. When you first came over to his house you stood in awe, he had one. It was too soon to ask, and you waited until the moment striked.

Tonight was the night you would finally fulfill your childhood dreams and sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed.

“Question.”

Peter looked up from his desk for a moment, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth slunk back in. He answered your words with a raised eyebrow, he grunted looking at his suit sewing up the shoulder.

“Can I sleep on the top bunk tonight?”

His eyes flickered up to the top, then back to his suit.

“Why do you wanna do that? I sleep on the bottom bunk, you know.” He tugged the thread tightly.

You do know, you’ve never been on top though. It felt like a summer camp, as you imagine. You’ve never been to one, you wonder if Peter has. To sleep in the same room as Peter, arm lengths away, to have him softly snoring underneath you as you count the stress fractures on his ceiling sounded blissful.

“I’ve never slept on a bunk bed.”

Peter looks at you and grins, “You sleep on it with me.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah but I’ve never had the sleepover bunk bed experience.”

He drops his hands for a moment, “You never told me that, we could’ve done that ages ago baby.”

You perk up, “So tonight?”

Peter smiles softly, “I don’t know the last time the sheets were washed, I’ll set it up for you and I promise next time you can.”

You bounce up and down on his bed, you can’t help yourself. You’re just so excited, you leap up to cross the room to press kisses to his face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He laughed as he lightly pushed you off him, “If I had known it would make you this happy I would’ve had you up there a million times by now.”

You squeeze at him before clasping your hands, “It’s gonna be so fun, Petey. It’ll be like summer camp!”

He raised an eyebrow, “Does that make me your counselor?”

You ran your index finger down his chest and lowered your voice, “Shit sexy, you could be my camp director.”

He matched your energy, “I’ll direct your camp.”

You tried to bite back a smile, right before you broke it he sucked a breath through his teeth.

“That was bad.”

“It was.”

“Swing and a miss.”

“If you’re on my mound you won’t be missing.”

Peter fake gagged, “You’re just as bad as me, get away you’re radiating bad flirting vibes and it’s affecting me.”

You gasp and smack his shoulder, “Take it back! I’m not a bad flirt!”

He nods and puts on a dumb voice, “Okay.”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, Peter takes in your movements and gasps.

“Don’t you dare.”

“I will if you don’t take it back.”

“It’s not my fault you’re radiating bad flirting vibes.”

“That’s it, you have two seconds or the legislation is being enacted.”

Peter holds his breath and winces, he’s not breaking. Neither are you.

“I tried being reasonable, Parker. You’ve lost kissing privileges until you repent for your sins against hot, excellent flirter girlfriends.”

He holds a fist in the air and cries out, “Noooooo!”

“That doesn’t sound like an apology to me, me and my lonely lips are going back to your bed, where they will stay until I get a heartfelt apology.”

Peter pulled at the thread on his needle with his teeth snapping it. He tossed his suit on his desk and pulled at your arm as you walked away from him, spinning you around he pulled you into his lap and kissed you repeatedly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Each apology wrapped with a kiss. You giggled and kicked your feet and you pushed at his jaw but he insisted on kissing your jaw and neck.

“Okay, okay! Sins repented!”

“Did I do enough hail mary’s, my priest?” A wet kiss placed at your jawline.

“What kind of roleplay is this?” Peter jumped slightly, May was leaning in the doorway.

“I had to repent for my sins, May. I was just making sure I was in the clear.”

“He said I had bad flirting vibes, May. The boy had to be punished.”

May ran one index finger over the over in a ‘shame’ motion, “Shame.”

Peter groaned, “I repented! The priest gives me the pass, go back to Jeopardy, May.”

May raised her hands, “Alright, children of god. Dinner in an hour.”

She turned slowly as she walked away, “No more sinning under my roof, Peter. You’re on thin ice as is.”

He turned to whisper to you, “Did she just tell me I was going to hell?”

You nodded quickly and matched his tone, “Yeah baby, she did.”

Peter scoffed and looked at his suit with a sigh, “And just when a guy thinks he’s won enough good karma he’s tossed back in the hole.”

“I bet it's lonely down there.”

“And cold.”

“I picture rain.”

“Yeah, but it’s only on me so I can’t escape it.”

“Like one of those cartoons with the clouds above their head?”

“Exactly.”

“Damn. Well, I’ll send a postcard from heaven.”

“That is literally so toxic, get off of me.”

You threw your head back laughing as Peter lightly pushed at your thighs.

—----------------------

You couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed your face, Peter Parker was many things but number one on the list is best boyfriend ever.

He had sent you a picture of the top bunk, it was taken from the ladder. A new set of sheets and your favorite throw blanket you kept on the couch was tucked in the corners of the bed. His childhood teddy bear was tucked in the railing against the wall, a small paper he wrote on was taped to the wall, you couldn’t read it over the phone.

‘Guess who’s gonna have the best sleepover of their life.’ Was the text sent with it, you couldn’t help but send one back of your cheesy grin. ‘Did I ever mention how much I love you?’

‘Once or twice, it doesn't hurt to hear it again.’

‘I love my handsome, thoughtful boyfriend.’

He sent a questioning emoji, ‘You have another boyfriend?’

‘It’s amazing how you can be lovely and toxic at the same time.’

‘Like a fuckin mirror babe.’

You grunted at the phone with narrowed eyes.

‘Be safe tonight, don’t die pls.’

‘I have a very important sleepover and my girlfriend is losing her bunk bed virginity, (twice) so I can’t die, the gods have spoken it into existence.’

‘Just for that comment, I lied. I wasn’t a virgin.’

‘Trust me, you were.’

You sent a grumpy face, ‘I’ll see you tonight, I love you.’

‘Love you too, baby.’

You could hardly count the minutes down until Peter got back from patrol and sent you the come over text, as silly as it was it felt like it was healing your inner childhood. Not to mention, unknown to you, Peter totally leaned into it and was committed to give you the best sleepover ever, snacks and drinks and take out and movies and everything you could want at a sleepover was carefully planned.

Staring at your dresser you contemplated showing up in pajamas or bringing a bag, you figured you should bring some real clothes just in case but you were committed to wearing one of his shirts with some pajama shorts, ones he would say were delicious on you. They were too short for you to bravely wear them on the bus so you begged your brother to take you, it only cost you twenty bucks, he let you off easy.

You knew he was busy swinging and you always hated the idea of sending him a text while he was possibly in the middle of kicking someone's ass and throwing him off, however, this was life or death.

‘Are we eating at yours or should I eat here?’

‘I planned on chinese, I should be home in an hour or two.’

"Sounds yummy, let me know when you’re on the way home, it only cost me a twenty to get a ride.’

‘Highway robbery, man up and strap some webshooters to those wrists.’

‘I’d die and you would be happy.’

‘Cash in on that life insurance.’

‘I knew you were with me for my money.’

‘And dat ass.’

‘I’m taking a shower.’

“Ooh, take a picture.’

—--------------------------------

You resorted to painting your toenails and watch a quick murder mystery video on youtube while you waited for Peter to call, the waiting was always the hardest part, you were selfish and wanted him when you wanted him, you just had to remind yourself it’s just like he has a normal job but with better flexibility.

It didn’t make it easier, you still wanted Peter more than the city deserved Spider-Man. You would never tell him that.

You steady your hand as you applied the second coat, you took the shower first and wouldn’t be able to wash away the color that went out of line.

Your phone lit up with a picture of Peter, he was rubbing at his eye with a soft grin, caught before a yawn. It was the morning of a sleepover and you caught him before he made you breakfast and smothered you in kisses between May’s wandering eyes.

“Hello lover.” You drawled out the words like you weren’t waiting for his call.

“Hey trouble.” His voice was as smooth as aged scotch on the rocks

You heard him breathe in quickly as the air wooshed by him, he was heading home you assume.

“I’m gonna stop and get us dinner, head over in ten, okay baby?”

“Get me soup too, please!”

“Got it. Wait, should I get your brother something?”

“Are you trying to wine and dine my sibling?” You giggle into the phone.

“I’m trying to make him like me.”

“Crab rangoons are a start.”

“He’s gonna be my bitch in five years, just you wait.”

“Playing the long game are you?”

“You know, if you want to slip how good of a boyfriend I am for fulfilling your childhood dream on that car ride I wouldn’t object.”

“Petey, honey. He doesn’t give a shit about my childhood dreams.”

“Siblings are brutal. Thank god I’m an only child.”

“I’ll get him to come inside, you can bro hug or whatever and give him his rangoons and he’s guaranteed gonna tell me you’re cool later in private.”

“You’re the bestest, see you soon, trouble.”

“Love youuuuu.”

The second you hung up you nearly kicked the door in at your brother's room and told him he had five minutes before he had to tote you across town, per agreement.

Minutes later you were riding in silence as he blasted a new playlist, you would never admit it but you found some good songs from him. At a red light he rested his hand on his gear shift, picking at his bottom lip he tried subtle conversation.

“Are you gonna need a ride home tomorrow or will the kid take care of it?”

“If you don’t feel like picking me up then Peter, my boyfriend, will take me home.” Then follow up with, “Or maybe stay another night.”

He shakes his head quickly, “I’ll pick you up, just text me when.”

“He’s coming on the trip this year, you have to be nice. He’s nice, he’s good to me.” You say his name softly, he’s told you before that it’s just him fearing for your heartbreak, something Peter could cause and he would have to watch you heal from that. He knows how true heartbreak feels and he would never want you to feel that too, he thought he was dying.

He accelerated at the green light.

“I don’t hate the kid, I just don’t like him.”

You sigh, “You can call him by his name, you won’t summon him I promise.”

“He’s nice, I’ll throw you that bone.”

“Just nice?”

“He seems to treat you alright, rare to have a freakishly chivalrous guy this day in age.”

“I’m telling Peter you said that, he’s so anxious about you hating him. He is so desperate for your approval it’s kinda sad.”

“Don’t! Intimidation is the only thing I have over him.”

You know he jokes about messing Peter up if he dares dump you but you know it’s all talk.

“You really think Peter’s gonna dump me?”

“Between the two of you? Yeah. You could never do it.”

You snort, “He said the exact same about himself.”

Your brother just hums and turns the music back up, there was no need to ask for directions, he’s been on this route hundreds of times in the past almost year.

When he pulled to the curb you made a puppy dog face, “will you please come up? I have something you need to bring home and I don’t want to have to go up and down twice.”

He pulled his eyebrows in, “You can’t bring it home tomorrow?”

Shit.

“No, mom needs it now. I forgot to ask Peter to bring it over earlier.”

“What is it?”

“C’mon, please! It’ll take five minutes.”

He stared at you before groaning and throwing his seat belt off, ripping the key from the ignition. Without waiting on you he opened his door and started walking to the entrance making you scramble to escape the seat and power walking to catch up.

You walked in on him mass spamming the elevator button as if it would make it come faster, “what floor is the kid on again?”

“Peter.” you enunciated, “Lives on floor seven.”

“Right.”

He knocked, no, pounded on the door. Peter swung the door open fast, half worried you were desperate to get in but rather met with your brother's face. He quickly reset himself and smiled before opening the door for you to enter, Peter held out his hand for a shake with a nod of his name.

Your brother shook his hand firmly, “Pecker.”

“Peter!” you corrected, loudly.

Peter waved it off, “close enough.” Then made his way to you leaning in for a quick kiss, “Hi, trouble.” You couldn’t help the smile. “Hi, handsome.” He gave you a squeezing hug and mumbled in your ear as he softly swayed you, “I missed you,”

Your brother let out a gag, “alright what did you need me to bring home, this place reeks of Parker.”

“Ah! I got you these,” he hopped into the kitchen to grab the small take away box. “Crab rangoons.” Peter nodded at the container as he handed it out, your brother took it wearily, “I don’t normally accept bribes but this one slides, that’s-“ he made eye contact with you, “very nice of you.”

You nodded your head and couldn’t help the growing grin, then he realized your game and gave a nod at Peter then turned to leave he pointed at you, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Oh you don’t have to, I can bring her home.”

Your brother looked over his shoulder at him, then repeated himself “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

When the door shut loudly Peter looked at you with an excited face, “that went well, right? He only referred to me as a penis once!” You smiled before grabbing at his shoulders moving him to the couch and straddling him, Peter rested his palms on your thighs lightly tapping them, his eyebrows raised waiting for you to talk.

“He didn’t want me to tell you this but because I love you, and I’m starting to feel extreme pity for you-“

“Thanks, baby.” A squeeze.

“-Welcome, he told me in the car that he thinks you’re nice and you treat me freakishly well, so in his words, “I don’t hate the kid, I just don’t like him.””

“At this rate he may even tolerate me by the time we go on vacation.”

You squeeze his shoulders and place a chaste kiss to his mouth, “The rangoons just put you at not complaining if you come over for dinner level.”

Peter threw his head back, “Let’s goooooo.”

You let out a small sigh, he tried so hard. “It’s not personal Pete, he just doesn’t want you to hurt me and not that he would admit it, I think a part of him doesn’t want to like you because if we were to ever split he would miss you too.”

He pulls a dumb face, “okay but has he considered we won’t break up, like ever?”

You shrug, “Yeah, about that..”

Peter rolls his eyes and flips you to pin you to the couch, “you stop it, woman. I am going to wine, dine and bed you before banishing you from mine tonight.”

“Don’t wanna make the bed rock from up top?”

“And have my head whack the ceiling a million times? No.”

“I could be on top.”

“And have you whack your head on the ceiling? Absolutely not.”

“You’re such a gentleman, do you have any objections to making the couch rock?”

Peter dropped his jaw and scoffed, he looked over your face looking for your bluff, you weren’t kidding. He supported himself with one hand as the other slipped under his— your shirt, “You know May uses this couch.”

You nod as you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him in, “I know.”

He groans when you grind against him, “It would be dirty of us, we shouldn’t.”

You look in his eyes as he watches you pull up slightly pulling your shirt off, he glances at your chest before looking back at you. “We shouldn’t,” you agree with him as you shuffle your pajama shorts down your thighs, Peter lets out a room quieting gasp when you pull him from his pants.

“Fuck you’re eager.”

You lean up to place a kiss below his ear, “I’m just showing how much I missed you.”

He let out another curse when you rolled your hips into his, “You’re dirty, so so dirty.” ————————-

Peter had woken you up from the couch around one in the morning, he had let you sleep through the last half of the movie you had started. And you were sleepy until he woke you up and started to push you towards his room and seeing his bedside lamp light up the room woke you up more.

Rubbing at your eye you speak through a yawn, Peter still understands.

“Course you can still sleep up top.”

He pulls down his own sheet and shakes his own yawn, you start to climb up the ladder and notice the higher you got the shakier your knees became, then you slightly duck because you’re closer to the ceiling than you estimated.

With a slight turn over your shoulder your tongue melts in your mouth, it’s higher up than what you thought. And sure, you’re not a kid and it’s just a bunk bed but it feels like all rational thinking went out the window, it was high up and you can’t help but think about the fall down.

“Help?”

Peter looked at you with a tilted head and his hands on his hips, he was about to ask ‘help with what?’ but rather used his detective skills and nodded his head. He crossed the room and followed you up the ladder, as he followed up you were able to comfortably sit on the top bunk.

You crossed your legs with a small smile, like you didn’t just panic and ask for him to follow you up in case you somehow fell backwards. Peter’s eyebrows rise to ask if everything's okay, you open your arms for him to follow you down on the bed, you close him in with a tight hug.

“I love you.”

He laughs and places a kiss on your neck, “I love you too baby.”

“Okay, I’m ready. Tuck me in and call it a night, dad.”

Peter watched you shuffle under your blanket with a grunt at the title, he leaned over you to tuck in the sides so you were snuggled in. He pushed some hair out of your face and pressed a soft, longing kiss to your mouth.

“Goodnight, trouble.”

You bit your lip to suppress a grin, only a whisper left your mouth, “night.”

Only lasting five minutes of silence in the dark room, which was your preference by the way, Peter didn’t mind if a light was on but you claimed you couldn’t sleep in the light.

“It makes my eyelids see through, Peter.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

You called out to Peter.

“Pst, Peter.”

He has a stage whisper, “yeah?”

“Have you ever been to summer camp?”

He shuffles in bed, you think he’s pulling the blanket up.

“I’m poor.”

“I’ve never been either.”

“Notice you didn’t say you’re poor too?”

“Money is a mindset, Peter.”

“Sounds like you’re poor.”

A sigh, “I am.”

You hear him roll over, your own bed shakes with his jostle, you grip your sheets. Your slight edge sparked Peter’s senses.

“You okay up there?”

You wouldn’t object if he begged you to come sleep with him, but you were going to see out this childhood dream.

“Yeah. I miss you.”

He snorts, “Reach your hand down.”

You follow his instructions and wiggle your arm through the side bars, his hand encases your own. For a moment everything settles and you almost ask for him to come join you, but you’re terrified of the bed shaking.

“Couldn’t be further from you if I tried.”

“Will you do this all night?”

“And risk a frozen shoulder for you?” He shoots out, then adds, “Of course I would.”

“Aw, you’re such a good friend!”

His hand squeezes yours, “what kind of a friend?”

You giggle, “the bestest!”

“Wrong B word, dear.”

You gasp, “ I don’t think you’re a bitch, Peter!”

He groans, “That’s it, fend for yourself. Goodnight, traitor.”

Peter’s hand drops from yours and he turns towards the wall, you whine when he pulls away from you. “Fine then, goodnight, Parker.”

You hear him mumble to himself and grin while you let sleep take over.

——————————

Your phone said it was four twenty three in the morning.

You wonder when Peter will wake up, if he would rise when the sun did or, more likely, sleep until you wake him up when you get too bored of entertaining yourself like you usually do.

You have to pee, bad.

You got as far as one step on the ladder then felt yourself slightly sway, you tried to find the next step but were too scared to extend your foot all the way to reach it.

You tried looking back and cursed yourself for sleeping in the pitch black tonight, you were in limbo between sending it and hopping down and crawling back up and waving a white flag.

Deciding you were a grown badass you forced yourself to take the next step and nearly slipped, Peter’s foot was resting right between the steps and his blanket made the step slick. You nearly fell backwards, in a rush you climbed back up and checked the time to see if you could wait it out.

You were able to wait for ten minutes, then a cramp hit and all you can think about is the toilet ten steps away.

Calling quits you realize your only hope was Peter, and he was dead asleep judging by his snores. Nevertheless, you start to plead.

“Peter?” A whisper.

“Peter.” A little louder.

He snores loudly at that one.

“Peter!” A whisper shout.

He’s not answering.

He’s not answering, and he’s not awake, and you can’t get down, and you have to pee and you were the one that wanted this.

You blink back tears, why do you want to cry?

“Peter!” You spoke in a regular but quiet voice.

He stays silent, you start to chant his name over and over, he doesn’t respond.

On the fourth call your tears break through, you sigh heavily. Tears dripped down your chin into your hands, you called out one more time, begging.

“Peter, please.”

You sniffle, then let out a breath of fresh air.

“Baby?” It’s raspy and spoken through a sharp inhale, he feels like cold water has been dumped on him.

He stares at the slats above him like he has x-ray vision to see through them to you.

“Peter! I can’t- I don’t know how- I have to-“ You start to breath heavy, your eyes flooding with panic and embarrassment, and you really fucking have to pee.

Peter untangled himself to stand up, he pulled down a leg of his boxer briefs that had risen with his tossing and turning.

“What’s wrong?”

You gasp for air, you feel the bed shake when he pulls at the ladder to pull himself up. You wrap your hands around your head, “I wanna get down, I wanna get down!”

You repeat the words over and over until you feel hands over your own, the bed dips where Peter has his knees on either side of you. He wraps you tight in his arms, “It’s okay, you’re okay. We can get you down, it’s okay.” You wind your arms around his, tucking yourself in your neck to start to cry.

Peter’s heart hurts, you’re scared.

“You’re safe. I’m here, okay?”

He feels your warm breath wash over his chest, you try and calm yourself down, it’s not as scary when Peter has you surrounded.

“I couldn’t get down and you wouldn’t wake up.”

Peter frowns between your studders, he hates that you were calling out for him and he didn’t hear it.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m here now, okay? Wanna get down?”

You nod into his neck, “I have to pee so bad.”

Peter breathed through a smile and kissed the top of your head, “okay, let’s go pee.” He pulled himself away and started to go down the ladder, you watched him with wide eyes trying to memorize his steps so you could match.

You looked up and noticed how close you were to the ceiling, your throat felt like it closed up. You could feel how shaky your knees were even looking at the space to go down, you figured you would wet the bed tonight.

“I’m right here, trouble. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

You shake your head, “I can’t. I tried and I can’t.”

Peter hums and looks around the room, he can’t carry you down. The physics wouldn’t allow him too, his only option was catching you.

“Can you sit on the railing for me, baby?”

You reached out a hand to wiggle it, it seemed sturdy.

“Okay.”

You white knuckled the banister when it creaked under your weight, “Peter, get me down, please get me down. I’m gonna freak out.”

“I need you to trust me, sweetheart. Just drop.”

You hold on tighter, your voice squeaks. “Drop?!”

“I gotta catch you, I can’t carry you down, baby.”

You look over to the window, the moon was lighting up one side of the room, you can barely make out his figure on the side of the bed.

“Can you see me?”

He lets out a small laugh, “Yes, baby, I can see you.”

You buffer and hold up a hand, “How many fingers am I holding up?” The other hand has a vice grip to steady you.

“Four.”

You whine, “I’m scared.”

Peter’s heart hurts again.

“I know you are, I promise I’ll catch you, okay?”

“Okay.” You don’t sound very confident.

“I’m gonna let go.”

“I’m ready.”

You loosen your grip then immediately double down.

“Okay, I’m gonna drop now.”

“Got it.”

You stay there for another second.

“Baby, you gotta let go.”

“Be honest, will you be mad if I wet the bed?”

“No, but how are you gonna get down after that?”

You breathe in deeply, “I’m gonna actually do it, you promise you’ll catch me?”

“I promise.”

You loosen your hold to push off, “I’m about to let go.”

“I’m right here.”

You hold your breath and push off as hard as you could, your hair breezes and your body feels weightless for just a moment. Then you’re caught, hands wrap around your back and thighs, you feel yourself bounce in his hold then level out.

“Caught you.” Peter’s voice is a whisper in your ear, you kick your legs to be let down. You immediately turn to wrap him in a hug, “thank you, I love you.” Then push him back to sprint to the bathroom.

When you come back in he’s back in bed, his blanket open for you to join. You couldn’t help but feel like a little kid, but it was dark and high up and to be fair you couldn’t see where you were going.

Sliding next to him his eyes open, “the first time I was on top bunk I was like, seven and I had a nightmare and I couldn’t get down and was screaming so loud May woke up and had to come rescue me.”

“I didn’t realize I'd feel so trapped up there.”

He hums, “It does feel like that, huh?”

“You were my hero tonight, you’re good at that. Maybe you should look into a job doing that.”

“I may have to look into it, I’m tired of being New York City’s Spider-Menace.” Then decides to add, “I’m sorry you were scared and needed me and I wasn’t waking up. You must’ve been petrified.”

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna go up there again.”

He laughs, “that’s okay.”

You roll over to stick your face against his arm. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“Your tears were coming through the slats, it was chinese water torture.” You open your mouth to bite at him, he grunts. “I’ll let you get away with that, you had a scary night.”

“Remember earlier when we were talking about B words?”

Peter hums, he’s falling back asleep. He never used to fall asleep so fast until he met you, having you tucked into his side always made him sleep soundly.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.”

He opens his arm to pull you into him, “you make it easy.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker blurb #peter parker fluff #tasm!peter one shot #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm fic #peter parker fic #my writing

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seresinhangmanjake · 3 months

Text

The One I Want: Part 11

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, body shaming, typos

Words: 2879

The One I Want Masterlist

“So, you are the new roomie,” Brit says, crossing her arms under her breasts, pushing them up much higher than what is naturally achievable. The door closes behind her. “The new pussy. The new set of tits.”

Her heels click across the tiled floor as she makes her way over to the sink, pulls out a tube of lipstick from the bag hanging off her shoulder, and uncaps it. The stick runs smoothly over her bottom lip, renewing the vibrancy of the red shade.

“I could see it the other night,” she continues as she caps the tube. Her eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Fucker was looking at you like you were some angel that fell out of the goddamn sky—until it changed into the kicked-puppy look because of whatever you said to him. And yet, despite your nasty words, I’m the one who got the furious look to go with a bullshit lecture about ‘backing off’,” she scoffs. “I’ve heard it before, but this time I figured it probably had something to do with the chubby girl he sent away.”

It’s been months since you’ve heard that word, and you feel the dig, but it doesn't make it as deep into your gut as you expected. It's more like a shallow divot in the ground. It causes a stumble and a fleeting moment of panic, but that panic morphs into relief when you realize it didn’t shove you down onto your knees. You’re able to pull yourself back together, upright and undamaged, and carry on with your next step as if it never happened.

The blonde looks you up and down in the silence that follows her words. Oddly, her eyes do not flit in sharp movements that would suggest an unwillingness to linger on something unpleasant. Instead, she’s almost as slow and thoughtful as Jake when his eyes drag along your curves with enough appreciation they could substitute for his fingers. But it’s no shock that Brit’s lengthy concentration on the wider parts of your body is not from appreciation. Her stare contains questions, the most likely of them picking at why Jake would want someone like you when he once had her. And without an accompanying snarl across her lips or pinch in her brow, she seems more like a curious child wanting to understand a concept she’s never before been witness to.

But then she finds her smirk.

“You’re not his type.” Her tongue running over one side of her top row of teeth makes a squelching sound that you pray you’ll never hear twice.

“What do you want?” you ask, “Just for Jake to want you again?”

Her head jerks back an inch and the curve of her jaw shifts with her grinding teeth. You weren’t aware you had the power to catch someone like her off-guard, but it takes some time before her tense features melt into a smile.

“I knew he would tell you all about me,” she sighs. “I don’t even have to formally introduce myself because he’s so damn considerate.” Tilting her head, her smile widens, but her eyes are missing all light and the longer you stare the more you expect fangs to form and nails to elongate in preparation for ripping you to pieces. “I only want to do you a favor. Don’t you like favors?”

You swallow. “I don’t need a favor.”

“What kind of weirdo doesn’t appreciate a favor?” Her face scrunches and her head shakes in mock disbelief as she tosses the lipstick back into her purse. “Fine, we’ll call it something else: a warning for the sake of your own self-care.” She crosses her arms again and moves back to lean against the sink; the exact spot where you sat as Jake touched and kissed and held you. You wonder if she’d allow any part of her to make contact with that spot if she knew its very recent history.

“Jake Seresin gets bored,” she says with the prideful tone of someone much too pleased to force their knowledge upon others, whether that knowledge be accurate or not. “I don’t know where he found you or what sob story you gave that tapped into his caretaker complex, but it doesn’t make a difference in the long run. You’re not there because you have value to him, you’re there because you’re easy. You are a warm pussy and an open mouth and a pair of tits, and that’s it,” she spits. “Don’t start thinking that you're special or that you give him something no one else can. He’s tasted better things than you and thrown them away, so believe me when I say that you’re wasting your time by latching on to him. The way he looks at you, it's not real. What you are is shiny and new, but shiny and new doesn’t last forever, and after enough time, he’ll–”

“I'm not that new,” you interrupt.

A flash shoots across her irises—there and then gone. For someone else, it could have passed unnoticed, but you recognize the things you have felt before; the verbal shutdown that stops someone in their tracks by ripping the words from their throat and rendering them meaningless. Being on the opposite end of it turns your stomach, but for your defense and the defense of the man you care for, you won't hide the truth to spare her.

Brit scoffs. “You’ve lived there, what, a few weeks?”

“Months.”

Her brow knits and eyes narrow, and she’s guaranteed to form wrinkles you’re sure she’d rather prevent.

“Good,” she says, but it’s not quite as dominant as before. “Then you don’t have much time before he shows you the man he really is. It starts off all sweet, he’s kind and considerate of your feelings, but the minute you want more he’ll dump you on your ass.”

“He isn't–”

“It will happen,” she snaps, taking a few more steps closer until she’s just shy of in your face. “And if you have an ounce of intelligence, you’ll leave him.”

With how hard she’s trying, there’s an instinctual part of you that fights to feel sympathy. And in a way, you do. What she’s sharing is not unlike your own experiences. You’ve been with men. You know the ones who aim to hurt and revel in their success. You know the ones who don’t think twice about their actions and hurt without looking back. But you also know Jake is neither of those men.

You let a handful of beats pass, hoping to find in her glare one dominating emotion to guide you. But they are too interwoven. She is fueled by the familiar self-sustaining brew of anger and pain, and you wonder if she can feel anything else anymore–if she is capable of relaxing or evenly breathing. You wonder if she ever sleeps.

“You know, running from something and chasing after something are a lot alike,” you begin, testing the strength of your voice in the slim space between you. “You practically kill yourself trying to reach a place where you’re content and have what you want, but you never get there. And it's exhausting,” you admit. “I know how exhausting it is.”

“Do you have a point?”

Your stare doesn't falter under the intensity of hers. “Aren’t you tired?”

She flinches, and as her eyes flick back and forth between yours you wait for some form of retaliation, but it doesn't come.

Your safety is solidified by the call of your name as the door swings open. Millie’s head pops into the room and when she recognizes who has you nearly pressed up against the wall, her body follows. Her arms cross and her brows dip and for the first time you witness a death glare you didn’t know that that woman—that tiny woman, Rooster’s girl, your friend—was capable of. The glare pries into the blonde.

“You alright, hon?” she asks, but it’s not a question looking for a response as much as it is a warning to Brit that if anyone in this room is going to be ‘alright,’ she’s last on the list.

Impressively, that’s all it takes before you’re watching Brit retreat from the bathroom.

When the door closes, Millie rushes over to take your hand, falling into the motherly mode that, considering her age, continues to throw you for a loop.

“What the hell was that?” she demands. “What’d she say to you?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. Glad that she’s now by your side, your lips quirk.

“It didn’t look like nothin’.”

“Nothing that matters.” Her fingers give your hand a light squeeze as she scans your face, searching for a chink in your expression that might indicate a lie. “Millie, I swear.”

Seemingly satisfied, she nods and turns for the door, pulling you along behind her. “We have to tell Jake she was botherin’ you.”

Suddenly, your heels dig into the floor. “No, we don't.”

Millie twists back around and blinks as if she misheard you. “You’re kiddin’ me.”

You’re not. Jake doesn’t need that. Dragging unnecessary problems into his life is the last thing you want to do to him. And unnecessary is exactly what this is. You can take care of yourself, but you’re not sure your abilities will matter if Jake knows what happened in this bathroom. After everything he’s been through and lost, learning that Brit went around him to get to you will be seen as nothing less than a threat in his eyes, as it would be seen in yours were the situation reversed.

That’s what happens when you chip away at each other’s walls. Because both of you have begun exposing your hearts and your worries and your fears while your hands are intertwined, the area to protect has expanded in a way it wouldn’t have had you taken this journey on your own. Now it’s harder. There’s more open space, less solid defenses, and your eyes have to monitor distances farther than they can reach. It's impossible to always be successful in protecting two people at once, so now, to protect Jake, you have to take the blow. And in this case, that is what is necessary.

“It’s his birthday,” you stress. “He's happy. Just let it be.”

“But he's going to see her out there anyway.” Millie waves in Jake’s general direction as if the dramatic flail of her short arm might assist in making her point.

“I doubt it. She probably left.”

“Why on earth would you think that?”

Because Brit didn't come here for Jake. Not tonight. But you can’t immediately piece together the right way to say I don’t think it, I know it without inviting more questions from the fiery redhead with a fierce protective nature. So you ignore it. “Everything's going to be fine,” you say. “I promise.”

—

“Don’t you think it’s a little too out in the open there?” you ask from the couch as Jake centers the snow globe on the mantle above the television.

“No,” he says without a glance back at you.

“It’ll catch the sunlight and blind you while you're watching a movie.”

His finger nudges the globe a millimeter to the left. “I’ll watch movies at night.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, it throws off the decor of the room.”

He steps back to get a look at the globe's placement before going in to erase the millimeter he had just moved it. “How?”

“I don’t know,” you huff. “There’s no other snow in here.”

When he finally turns to you, his brow is arched and his lips are upturned enough to carve dimples into his cheeks. “There’s no other snow in here,” he repeats. “Do I need to go buy some of that fake stuff? Sprinkle it around the room maybe?”

“You’re not funny,” you grumble as he walks toward you, stopping just a few inches away. He leans down and his hands reach out to cup your cheeks.

“It’s staying,” he says with a peck to your lips. Then he releases you and falls onto the cushions beside you.

His head rests on the back of the couch, tilted to the side so he can easier watch you, which is exactly what he does. He watches. His soft gaze stays on your face until enough time has passed that you can’t help but chuckle.

“What?” comes through your light laugh.

“Come here.”

“What for? Your birthday is over.”

Heading lifting, his jaw drops. “By an hour and a half.”

When your lips pull to the side and brows raise as if to say ‘Not my problem’, Jake sits up and scoots toward the edge of the cushion.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Getting ready to get on my knees and beg, what does it look like?”

You quickly throw out your hand and press it against the center of his chest to stop him. Though he’s undoubtedly much stronger than you, he falls back onto the couch with the slightest push. As you sit up and stretch a leg over his hips to settle down on his thighs, you sigh through your nose with a smile, and say, “Isn’t that a little dramatic?”

Firm hands grip the dips of your waist. “From my perspective, no.”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you let your body lean into him until your breasts are flush to his chest and your lips are inches apart. “Happy Birthday,” you whisper before your mouth meets his in a kiss.

It’s soft and slow, and his tongue greets yours with such sweetness as it explores you. He tastes you as if it's the first time after months apart and he doesn’t want to neglect a single bit of you—a drastic shift from earlier when every move he made was filled with urgency, but being in your own home grants you that luxury. There’s no need for hurried movements with no one to bother you. So he doesn’t rush a single thing. Not his kisses. Not his touch.

Those fingers roam expertly about your body, expressing how much he wants you without demanding you offer him permission to do as he pleases. His fingers that slide up your inner thigh, but not too high, and brush around your breasts, but not too close, silently swear that you are the one in control. His touch serves as a promise of what he can give you, but only if you decide you want it.

And it’s not that you don’t want it, him, you do, but you would prefer to feel a stronger sense of confidence that if you take each other, you won’t lose something of yourself in the process as you have in the past. If you take that step, you need to be sure you’ll still be the person you’ve become since you met him, the person he knows you to be. Right now, you can’t guarantee that. So you let his fingers do their roaming, burning tingles through the fabric of your dress, and you let your hands do the same, traveling over wide shoulders and thick neck and into soft hair, but you don’t suggest more. And to your relief, he doesn’t push for more, despite it being his birthday.

Jake releases a moan so low and gravelly and deep that you feel it from your chest to your belly. He moans and groans and when you bite his lip, he lightly whimpers, and you like it too much that you can pull the same sounds from him that he can from you. But that little song you're making him sing is interrupted by a sharp ding.

Jake’s lips detach from yours and his head whips in the direction of the intrusive sound. “Shit,” he says. “Sorry, let me turn it off.” His arm extends toward the noise, making his whole body lean sideways, and you take the opportunity to lick a small stripe along his neck. “Fuck, beautiful.” He groans another lovely groan as he secures the phone in his hand and straightens his posture.

You hear the click that opens the phone, the light from the screen creating a bright spot in the corner of your closed eyelids, but it takes you a while to notice that, though Jake’s other arm is still wrapped around you, his hand has stopped its caressing. His breathing has slowed to a more regulated pattern. He’s too quiet for too long, and you never heard him set the phone back down on the side table.

Then he says, “Why didn’t you tell me about Brit?”

You freeze, all of you from your head to your toes to your heart and the blood rushing through your veins. Pulling your head back from his neck, you find his eyes still glued to his phone. “W-What?”

Jake flips the device so you have a full view of the screen and the block of text in the bottom left corner.

Rooster: Hey man, Millie said Brit went after your girl tonight. I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but I know you’d tell me if it was Millie, so just making sure she’s ok.

You reread the words, hoping they might change with another pass over, but no luck. “Um…”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @horseshoegirl @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @hookslove1592 @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #top gun hangman #top gun #jake hangman seresin x y/n #tgm #tgm fic #jake seresin x plus size!reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x fem!reader #top gun fic

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margotw10bis · 5 months

Text

Boss Me Around. KNJ [m]

boss!namjoon x assistant!reader

Genre: smut; office romance

Words: 13.9k

Synopsis: You have been Namjoon's assistant for four years but something changes the day Namjoon tells you he is going to get married.

Warnings: sexual content; unprotected sex; public sex; sexual harassment (not from Namjoon); oral sex (f. receiving)

You try your best to smile through the unpleasant glance that is set on you. You can't say it's the first time you experience it but it doesn't mean that you're used enough to simply not care. Even if it were true, you don't want to 'don't care'. When you arrived at the office and saw Mr. Choi's name on the schedule, you knew you'd have a bad day. Every single time the forty-year old man — an important partner of the firm you work in — has a meeting with your boss, Mr. Choi always finds a way to flirt with you. You keep a professional behavior but his lewd eyes and disgusting smirk are hard to deal with.

Of course, you could tell your boss but you know that this business partner is crucial for Kim Electronics. So you get a grip on yourself and pray for your boss to come soon. A relieved sigh escapes your lips when you notice Kim Namjoon through the glass walls of the meeting room. However, your reliever doesn't last long: Namjoon's face is tensed and his clenching jaws are a clear sign of anger.

You've been his personal assistant for four years and a single gaze is enough for you to know what's going on in his handsome head. You mentally go through his appointments to guess what happened but you can't find anything that could make him angry. Moreover, he is not really the type to get angry easily. You look at him with a questioning glance but Namjoon is fully focus on Mr. Choi, so you leave to give them privacy while they talk business.

When you reach your desk, you look at the different things that are planned for today but nothing could get your boss in this grumpy mood. You can't help but worrying about him. You attempt to let that aside and do your work, waiting for Namjoon to come back so you can ask him properly. That might be weird for some people that you two talk about non-work related topics but you think that your relationship with your boss contains some kind of friendship too.

You were 23 years old when you started working at Kim Electronics. You were so excited to have your first real job and were willing to be the best you could. At that time, and even if his dad was the CEO of the company, Namjoon needed to prove himself to the board. He needed someone hard-working, dedicated and that wasn't afraid of working overtime — the exact description of you — to assist him. You feel proud when you look back: you helped him get promoted to Finance Director five months after you arrived, and, recently, CFO. It's crystal clear that when Namjoon's father retires, the board will elect him CEO. A warm feeling of pride fills up your chest when you think about it because, for you, Namjoon is a great boss and an even better human being. However, you can't help but wondering if he'll keep you as his PA or if he'll choose that Min Yoongi weasel who is currently his father's PA.

Lost in your thoughts, you haven't noticed Namjoon coming back until he slams his office door. You jolt and basically run to him. You don't bother knocking and enter. You see Namjoon, in his leather chair, elbows on his desk and his head in his hands. You get closer and pat his large shoulder — did he get buffer?

"What's going on?" You ask him gently but Namjoon only growls in desperation

Your heart squeezes to witness him being so distraught. Of course, in the past four years you've seen him in all kinds of mood: angry that an important contract was cancelled; sad when his granddad died; embarrassed when his legendary clumsiness made him spill his wine glass all over himself during a launch party; and so much more. But it's the first time that he just shut his mouth, not confiding to you. You frown when you can't find what to tell him. You don't like seeing him like that.

"I don't know what to do" He eventually whispers with a broken voice that actually breaks your heart, but you stay silent, waiting for him to keep going "You know that this company is my whole life. It's my family heritage and I've always worked my ass off for it... But I don't know if I'm willing to sacrifice my love life for it"

Your brows furrow at the last sentence. Is Namjoon seeing someone? He never mentioned something like that. Honestly, you don't even know how he finds time to date. You're with him all day, and some nights too when you're working overtime — which happens more often that you'd wished. Your job is the main reason why you're single: further than spending most of your time at the office, when you're free you're too tired to go out. And you know that Namjoon works even more than you.

"What do you mean?" You finally ask when you recover your mind

"My dad came to see me this morning. He wants me to marry Lee Ji-Eun..."

"Lee Ji-Eun as Lee Jung-Hwa's daughter? From TalkTive telecom company?" Your voice is higher pitch than usually from the surprise

Namjoon nods, defeated. It's no secret that arranged marriages happen in the Korean high society. Big firms tend to consolidate their business by marrying their children. However, since Namjoon is almost 31, you thought that his parents were going to let him decide who he wanted to marry. You thought wrong. That's when something like that happens that you're glad to be born in an average family.

"She's... pretty" That's all came to your mind to confort him and that's not brilliant

Namjoon scoffs and looks at you, raising one brow that says 'Is that supposed to make me feel better?'.

"If you want to marry your girlfriend, I'm sure your parents won't force you to be with Ji-Eun" You try with an unsure tone

"Well, I don't have a girlfriend. That's the problem. My dad asked me if I were dating someone. When I said no, he came up with Ji-Eun"

"I'm sorry, Namjoon" You gently tell him, and you're sincere

Your boss gives you a weak smile, appreciating your solace.

"I guess c'est la vie like the French say"

You wince as he does the same. You both know that it's not what Namjoon imagined for his future. Actually, you've never thought about him being with anyone because he hasn't had a girlfriend during the four years you've worked with him — occasional hook-ups with random girls met at clubs or fancy events don't count as girlfriends. Is that why some weird feeling you can't seem to identify presses your chest? It's definitely more than worry about Namjoon but what is it precisely?

————

Knowing Namjoon like the back of your hand, you knew exactly what he needed: to keep his mind busy. That's why you've added more appointments for him this week. The side effect of it? You working overtime to support him. As the days of the week went by, Namjoon grew more irritated, knowing that on Friday he'll have to meet the girl. Oddly enough, you went grumpier yourself too. You tried by all means to schedule something for that night but Mr. Kim father made sure to cancel everything last minute.

So, here you are, in Namjoon's office, facing a defeated Namjoon, a few hours before his date with Lee Ji-Eun. He is just sitting in his chair and you feel bad for him. He truly is a nice guy: always smiling, caring, protective towards his employees. He is strict, which makes him a little bit intimidating sometimes, but he's right. You are very lucky to have him as a boss. Honestly, you wouldn't work for anyone else, especially when Namjoon is also your friend. But right now, it's like all his positive energy ran off.

"Should I call you in the middle of the date, pretexting an emergency?" You propose and you feel lighter when a small laugh — the first of the week — comes from Namjoon's beautiful lips

"I don't think it's a good idea, you could have some trouble afterwards. However, keep your phone close because I might call you to get wasted"

You offer him a genuine smile. Namjoon has always made sure to give you some credits when he succeeded at the firm, and he's always invited you to celebrate it with alcohol. Some kind of 'blow off some steam' thing as he calls it. It's not something awkward or a way to get inside your pants, but more like a team celebration. To be true, your relationship with Namjoon has never been ambiguous: he is your boss and your friend, nothing more.

Of course, you're not blind and you can see how attractive he is — and if you were in fact blind, your female colleagues have made sure that you know he's hot. However, you never felt any sexual tension between you, maybe because you've never set the right mood for that, and not that you're willing to set the mood. But why do you keep looking at his buff chest tightened in his white shirt right now? Your body heat increases when your brain drifts away towards some filthy thoughts about the softness of his lips and the hardness of another part of him. You need to escape his office to prevent yourself from marking a huge mistake that would consist of you kissing and fucking your boss like there were no tomorrow.

After you make sure Namjoon doesn't need anything, you leave the office, promising to support him after his date. But now it's 3 am and you still don't have any sign from your boss. To be honest, you thought that he would call you at 9 pm, cutting short his unwanted date. But you have seen 9, 10, 11 pm and so on passed in silence. Does that mean that Namjoon got along with Ji-Eun? It's a good thing, right? But you can't help but feeling an unpleasant pressure in your chest at that thought. Your brain is working like hell to make up every single scenario possible of the night. You sigh every time you imagine your boss kissing Ji-Eun. What the heck is wrong with you?

————

Namjoon hasn't contacted you all weekend and you're kind of mad. You don't know the exact reason but you guess it's because he told you he'd call you but didn't. Yeah, your pride definitely took a hit. That's why you arrive all grumpy at your company building. You even feel more irritated when you see Namjoon's office door open. Even if you have mixed up feelings — for undetermined reasons —, you can't act unprofessional. That's why you make some coffee and knock before greeting your boss.

Namjoon's smile has returned but you are not as happy as you thought you would be. In fact, you frown when you notice his cheerfulness.

"Y/N, hi!" Namjoon welcomes you, taking the cup of coffee with thankfulness

"Hi. Did you have a good weekend?" You ask but you don't know if you really want to know the answer

"It was nice. The date with Ji-Eun went great. She is amazing: super smart and funny. And the rumors didn't lie, she is gorgeous" Namjoon gets all excited and his eyes sparkle when he talks about the woman he is supposed to marry

You stay silent for a moment, trying to prevent a grinning. Is this because of what he is saying? Or because of your weird feelings? You've never felt like this around Namjoon. You don't really like feeling like that. What kind of friend is not happy when their friends' date was 'great' ?

"Great" You finally say but there is no excitement in your voice "I have to meet the new interns so I've sent you your schedule by email"

It is quite a lame excuse to get out of Namjoon's office because, even though you actually have to meet the new interns, you still have a good 30 minutes before that.

Are you jealous? No, it can't be. Namjoon is your boss. Yes, he is friendly but nothing ever happened between the two of you. And nothing can ever happen. You can't have feelings for him. You don't. But the itchy feeling in your chest could say the opposite... You shake your head to push away those ridiculous thoughts and make your way to the lobby.

Once again, you sigh — maybe the hundredth time this morning — when you notice Min Yoongi. Of course, this louse is here. As the personal assistant of the big boss, he'll make a feedback on the new recruits to Mr. Kim who will decide if one of them will be offered a permanent contract. Even though you understand why Yoongi has to be here, you're annoyed. A sudden urge of murder titillate your fingers. There is no secret that you two don't get along. At first, you didn't have anything against him but then, you noticed how haughty he was towards you. Is it because you're a woman? Or just because you're working for a less important member of the firm? You don't know but it doesn't change anything.

You roll your eyes, passing in front of Yoongi, not greeting him. Why would you when you know that he'll blow you off. It's kind of a shame because the man is surely charming physically. His raven long hair makes him charismatic and creates a real contrast with his white skin. His features are delicate but his dark eyes are a little too beady not to be scary. Perhaps it's also because he never smiles.

Some other employees are here to welcome the interns, too. You look at them with kindness: all those five young people are stressed but willing to do a good job, just like you four years ago. You still remember clearly your first day at Kim Electronics and your first encounter with Namjoon. At the time, you weren't used to wear feminine cloths and usually put on some jeans with a t-shirt. But your job gave you the confidence you needed to wear cloths that suit you, not afraid anymore to be noticed. Sure, your first day was full of mistakes from you, so much that you were afraid that Namjoon would fire you at the end of the day — you even spent your lunch time crying in the restroom. But Namjoon smiled at you and told you 'I hope we'll get to know each other better, then we'll be the best team work of the company'.

Your boss, who was 27 years old, was way more mature and intimidating than you. His charisma made you blush and stutter, and it didn't help that he was extremely attractive. When you started working with him, he was not as brawny as he is today and his hair was blonde and long while it's now short and in a beautiful brown cinder color. However, his smile has always been perfect with his cute dimples, making him less daunting. Actually, his smile is the thing that you love the most about him, not only because it makes him so goddamn handsome but because it's always sincere, almost loving.

The five young and enthusiastic people in front of you bring back all kind of memories to you. Among them, you spot a guy with a very unique style: he is tall and very handsome with his black hair and eyes. His features are so perfect: doe eyes, cute big nose, plump lips with a little silver ring matching his eyebrow piercing. But what catches your eyes is the black tattoos escaping from his cream-color suit. His right hand has some inked patterns and you can easily imagine that the rest of his arm is no different. If he weren't wearing a classy suit with a light blue tie, you'd think he is a rockstar. More than his unique look and handsome face, he has a strong aura. It's hard to get your eyes off of him.

"You're going to sexually harass the interns now?"

Yoongi's annoying voice and comment reach your ears and a shiver of disgust runs though your back.

"What kind of sick fantasies fill your brain?" You bark at him

"I'm not the one literally eye-fucking them"

"Don't you have someone else to bother?" You ask while rolling your eyes

"You get so easily annoyed, why would I look for a better prey?" Yoongi smirks

Honestly, you want to slap him in the face but you're not sure that your bosses will appreciate it so you just take a step away from him, hoping that it will make him forget your existence. It does someway since the little fucker—you mean Yoongi stops talking.

————

"Hi, I'm Jeon Jungkook, they told me I'll be with you this week"

The handsome intern you noticed earlier is standing tall in front of you. His sweet voice and his bunny smile are the opposite of his look. He seems kind despite his intimidating piercings and tattoos. As they say, never judge a book by its cover...

"Hi, Jungkook! I'm Y/N, Mr. Kim's assistant. How are you? Not too nervous for your first day?" You tell him with a genuine smile

"I'm okay, I'm actually eager to know more" Jungkook responds, scrunching his nose

Cute. You instantly grow soft on him. Something about him really reminds you about your old self, at the beginning of your career. Namjoon has guided you all the way through it and you perfectly know that things would have been way harder without him, so you are willing to do the same for Jungkook, hoping that he'll feel as untroubled as you when Namjoon was around.

"Let's introduce you to Mr. Kim then"

You knock on Namjoon's door and enter with the intern by your side. You're surprised to see your boss on the phone but not for a business call. You tense when you hear Ji-Eun's name. You grow even more annoyed that Namjoon has a bright smile on his face. What the hell? They've known each other for five minutes! You wish you could roll your eyes but don't. So you just clear your throat, making Namjoon finally realize that you're here.

He straightens on his chair and hangs up. He looks at Jungkook with a questioning look so you take on yourself to introduce them. Some mundane civilities are exchanged and you can finally exit Namjoon's office. The good thing about having Jungkook working with you is that you don't have time to question your weird feelings. Jungkook is actually pretty good and works with his heart. You'll make sure to talk positively about him at the end of the month when Mr. Kim decides which intern should work at Kim Electronics. You spend all week explaining to him how things work and doing your usual job as Namjoon's PA. You don't have an extra minute to think.

Well, that's what you thought until Friday afternoon. In twenty minutes, you will eventually be able to enjoy the confort of your couch, doing nothing but binge-watching Netflix's new series. Your mood is a little lighter than the rest of the week — maybe the new light pink blouse you're wearing is helping too?

You're humming while entering Namjoon's office with a new hot cup of coffee for your boss. Even though you'll clock out soon, the same thing cannot be said for Namjoon who still has to meet a business partner tonight. You see him standing up, a file in hands and his brows furrow. You love seeing him like this: it's his 'work face'. The one he is making when he's fully focus on his job. His whole energy changes, making him a true successor for the CEO post. You could even say that he is more handsome like that.

Namjoon is so focus that he hasn't noticed you yet. You step closer to him but it is a really bad idea because at the same time, Namjoon raises his hand to push back his brown hair. As a result, the whole cup of coffee slashes your — unfortunately new — pink shirt. Thankfully, Namjoon doesn't like boiling hot coffee so you don't burn yourself. However, you're completely stained in brown color liquid and the fabric sticks to your bra and skin.

You wince and Namjoon's eyes widen. You don't really have time to feel embarrassed, even though Namjoon is clearly aware of your curves right now.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N! Let me help you" Your boss exclaims, already grabbing some tissues on his desk.

"Namjoon, it's okay, don't worry" You try to stop him but he is already wiping the liquid off of your shirt — or trying to

Actually, he is making things worst, the tissues crumble in small white particles on your shirt without even absorbing the coffee out of you. The gesture might be kind but Namjoon's movements are nothing like gentle. He is pushing hard against your chest, almost painfully. At every wipe, your shirt is stretched. He is definitely not aware of his strength...

"Namjoon, be gent-"

Your sentence is cut off by a loud noise of ripping fabric. You look down to measure the disaster: your pink shirt is totally open, result of all the little buttons popping. Your white bra is now visible for everyone and especially for Namjoon.

His red cheeks clearly acknowledge that your breasts are right in front of him. But you're blushing too. Your skin is burning and it's not because of the coffee spilt on it. Namjoon's glance and fingers on you cause a wave of arousal washing off all over your body. His eyes even seem to take his dragon shape, intense and darker. Maybe you're going crazy because for a second, you feel Namjoon caressing your boob with the tip of his long fingers — which causes a sweet moan to escape your lips—, right before he removes his hand like he has burnt himself.

He immediately turns to give you some privacy and you feel disappointed—No! You feel relieved that your boss didn't look at your breasts. What the hell is wrong with you?

"I, uhm, I have a spare shirt. Let me grab it for you" Namjoon embarrassedly says with a raspy voice

He grabs a light blue buttoned up shirt from his office cabinet. You know he always keeps one of them, just in case his clumsiness puts him in a difficult situation. Like right now. Except that you're the one in the difficult situation. Namjoon gives you the shirt without looking at you and exits his office to give you time to change.

Namjoon's shirt is bigger than you thought. The bottom hem covers your hips and butt entirely and the sleeves are so long that you can't see your hands. You decide to roll them up to your elbows and tie a knot to shorten the shirt. It will be enough to go home. You're not sure it's your best look, it's surely not flattering but, oddly, you feel good in it. The shirt smells like Namjoon: a light scent of lemon mixed with woody smell. Your insane mind wonders how it would feel to be hugged by your boss. You shake your head to get rid of those ideas. Lately, your brain is going crazy and imagines Namjoon in unprofessional ways.

A light knock on the door helps you to stop thinking non-sense and you informe Namjoon that he can come in. When he opens the door and his eyes meet your features wrapped in his cloths, his mouth opens. He has inappropriate thoughts about you. You look hot and cute at the same time. He can't deny a strange feeling of possessiveness towards you, definitely accentuates by you wearing his clothes. He is somewhat glad that other men will see you like that. He someway wishes to see you more often with his large shirt on your body. More than that, he wishes to see your body without his large shirt on. He has to gather all his strength not to let his dick get hard.

But then, he remembers your gorgeous boobs delicately held by your white bra. So pure and so erotic. Fuck, he wanted to touch you so bad, to feel the softness of your skin, to taste you, to mark you even. He has never had this kind of thoughts and desires about you. Not because he thinks you're not pretty — because you're fucking beautiful — but because Namjoon made a pact with himself: you're too attractive for his sanity so he'll stick to a professional behavior with you. He can't let his tantalizing controlling him. Namjoon is your boss, he can't abuse his power like that. But on the other hand, it's hard to resist, especially when he got a peak of your body.

Namjoon's eyes on you make you blush. You can't say what he is thinking. A tiny part of your brain wishes he finds you good. Once again, what the hell is wrong with you? Namjoon is your boss, period.

"I should run for Chanel's fashion show, right?" You joke and Namjoon chuckles

"You should" He says with a smile "But I'm a bit offended, my shirt looks better on you"

You cheeks redden harder and you look down. Why does your heart beat faster?

————

Three weeks have passed since the shirt incident. Namjoon and you haven't talked about it, not that there were anything else to say. You're back at your professional relationship — a small part of you feel strange about it — and Namjoon had two more dates with Ji-Eun. Every time Namjoon says her name and his eyes sparkle, you get annoyed. You try to convince yourself that it's because he is less focused on his job — although he's not — but you start to understand what is truly going on. You know damn well that you're beginning to have feelings for your boss. But your jealousy — that easily turns into pain — is suffocating. Namjoon is your boss and he is going to marry another woman. That won't be good for you and your little heart. That's why you're trying your best to keep your feelings as far away as possible from you and your overthinking brain.

Anyway, you have to be totally focused on your job, especially when you have to deal with Mr. Choi. Indeed, Namjoon and you have a business lunch with Mr. Choi and his own assistant. You try not to pay attention to Mr. Choi's disgusting smirk every time he looks at you. You can't even smile at him fearing of him misinterpreting it. Unconsciously, you get closer to Namjoon.

You let the three men discuss business while you mentally take note of the details. You have a good memory which is a big benefit for your job. You're good at writing the minutes of the different meetings that Namjoon attends, formal and informal.

At the same time, you enjoy the delicious lunch payed by your company. You can't afford it with your wage but one of the bonuses of being Namjoon's PA is that you are sometimes invited to business luncheons in fancy restaurants. The starter was a tasteful cold tomato soup with parmesan cheese chips. And you're about to take the first bite of your steak with roasted vegetables puree. The presentation of the dish is so delicate that it breaks your heart to sink your fork into it. You hum in delight when the first savors spread under your palate. But you frown immediately. Sesame. There is sesame in the sauce.

You turn your head as fast as you can towards Namjoon. Your heart stops when you see his fork getting closer to his mouth. You scream 'Stop!' and harshly push his hand. His fork lands on Mr. Choi's shirt, staining it but you don't care.

Namjoon looks at you with big surprised eyes. And surely, the rest of the table has the same expression on their faces. You can't mind about it because you are completely panicked. The idea of what could happen drives you crazy.

"Are you okay? You didn't eat it, right?" You ask him, alarmed, checking his face and throat to detect any sign of swelling

"Don't worry" He answers gently, taking your hands off of his face but still holding them

His big palms feel warm around your small fingers. You look into his eyes and you're destabilized to see what looks like affection. You get lost a moment in his beautiful dark brown eyes. The intensity of his glance on you cuts off your breathe. Your eyes move by themselves to set on Namjoon's lips. You automatically lick your own. A not-so-new wave of arousal caused by Namjoon shakes your pussy, painfully clenching around nothing.

A clearing of throat tears you off of your thoughts and you step away from your boss's face. You look around and yell a waiter close by.

"Could you change his plate please? He's allergic to sesame"

"Sure, no problem" The waiter responds, taking the plate that could have killed your boss.

Now that the adrenaline goes down and you're getting aware of what just happened, you feel embarrassed. It's worst when you see the disaster on Mr. Choi's shirt.

"I'm sorry" You apologize to him with a small voice "I'll pay for the cleaning"

"Seo-Joon, go buy a new shirt. Quick"

His assistant wastes no time and basically runs to accomplish his fashion mission. It's the first time you hear Mr. Choi talking with such a harsh tone. He is looking at you without his usually lewd eyes but angry ones. You shiver, unpleasantly, under his threatening gaze.

You're feeling ill-at-ease and it's worse when Namjoon excuses himself to use the restroom. An embarrassing one-on-one with Mr. Choi begins and you instantly regret his severe eye. Yes, his salacious face has returned.

"Aigo! I can't wipe my shirt. Could you help me?" Mr. Choi smirks

As disgusted as you are, you can't say no while you're the cause of his stained shirt. You carefully stand up and get closer, your napkin in hand. Slightly bended over, you try to wipe off but it doesn't seem to do anything.

Your hand halts when you feel something against your butt. No way, it can't be. However, you do clearly feel a caressing movement on your ass. Your blood runs cold. Is Mr. Choi — this disgusting pig — touching your butt? You look up at him and notice his pleased smirk. You want to puke, preferably on Mr. Choi. You are completely paralyzed by horror. You can't move one bit. You feel disgusted by Mr. Choi's behavior but also by your body that has been soiled.

Namjoon stops his steps when he witnesses the worst scene of his life. Mr. Choi, one of his most important business partners, is sexually harassing you. His disgusting hand is caressing your bump in the middle of a restaurant. Namjoon has never felt this angry. He swears he could kill this yucky pig. He clenches his fists and runs to you to harshly push Mr. Choi's palm away from you.

"What the hell is going on?!" Namjoon yells, making few people around looking at your table

Your and Mr. Choi's eyes widen in surprise. You feel relieved to see him but also... ashamed? Why? You didn't do anything wrong, so why do you feel guilty? You look at your feet.

"I said, what is going on?" Namjoon asks again with a harsh and tensed tone which makes you jolt

"Mr. Kim, I think you misread the situation" Mr. Choi responds with such confidence that you could believe him if it weren't your ass he was touching

"Really?" Namjoon's jaws clench in rage "We're leaving. And let's cancel our partnership, Kim Electronics won't be associated with a sexual offender" Then Namjoon gets threateningly closer to Mr. Choi and speaks with a deeper and more intimidating voice "Let me tell you that you're lucky we're in public, otherwise, you'd be on the floor begging for forgiveness"

Namjoon grabs your hand and your bag and drags you out of the restaurant. He is walking so fast with his long legs that you have a hard time following his pace, especially with your high heels. However, he suddenly stops, making you bump into his back. He turns around to look into your eyes. Your boss's face is so tensed with anger, you've never seen him like this in the past four years.

"Has this son of a bitch ever touched you like that?"

"No, it was the first time" You confess, looking down

"Did he ever make you feel uncomfortable?"

You don't think like lying would be a good idea, that's why a weak 'Yes' escapes your lips with a murmur. Even though Mr Choi didn't touch you — until now —, he did ask some kind of personal informations about you, mainly when you were free, or if you were single. If these questions could have been innocent, the tone he used was more than suggestive and the way he sometimes got closer to you was not appreciated. But now that you've told Namjoon, you have hope to not have to face it again.

Namjoon nods like he is trying to internalize the information, gritting his teeth. He truly wants to punch Mr. Choi in the face. Actually, he wants to kill him. Rage makes his blood boil in his veins. How could he have worked with such a piece of shit? Putting you in danger? He is your boss but also your friend. He should have protected you. He should have seen the signs of the sexual harassment that you were undergone. He feels so fucking guilty.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N" Namjoon speaks again with a softer voice, a culpable voice

"Why? You didn't do anything wrong" You immediately say, the last thing you want is him to feel bad

"I should have known, I should have noticed. Fuck, I'm so dumb-"

You cut him off with a hug. Your arms merely circle his large torso and you can feel how brawny he is. You hate seeing Namjoon this devastated while he is not responsible one bit. And maybe you do need to feel safe and protected by someone you trust after what happened. Namjoon is this person. Your heart breaks to see him this guilty but also speeds up to feel him in your arms. That's when you know. You have fallen in love with him.

Namjoon freezes one second before hugging you back. His strong arms totally wrap around your frame. You seem so small and delicate between his arms. It feels right. You're so beautiful, so smart, so funny, so kind to everyone. You don't deserve to be treated like that by a fucking pervert. You deserve to be cherish every single day and the man you'll choose to be with will be the luckiest bastard in the world.

"Stop apologizing, you didn't do anything wrong, Namjoon" You say in his buff chest "I should have told you how I felt"

"No, you have nothing to feel guilty about. He's a fucking asshole. I swear, I won't ever let something like that happen to you again. If someone touches you, I'll take care of them personally"

It's not only a promise he is making to you, but to himself too. You're too precious in his life. The alarming tsunami that shakes his heart at the idea of you being hurt leads him completely lost with his feelings. Why does he feel this moved by anything that happens to you? Why does he feel his heart trying to escape his rib cage to enter yours?

————

You put aside what happened at the restaurant with Mr. Choi for the rest of the week. It's not really hard not to think about it when you have so much work to do. However, it's when you're home alone and have more time to think that it gets harder. Namjoon made sure you were okay and kept telling you that it wasn't your fault. It's still a little bit hard to believe but you know that, with a little more time, you'll truly understand it. Your boss also kept his promise and cut off all business ties Kim Electronics had with Mr. Choi's company. Thankfully, it didn't affect too much the firm you work in since others business partners virtually begged to take Mr. Choi's place.

You gather your documents and head to the board meeting room. Today is the final day of the interns and several employees — including you — are invited to present a report on their work. You didn't change your mind and think that Jungkook should be the one to get a job offer from Kim Electronics.

The atmosphere of the room suddenly changes when Mr. Kim, the CEO, enters, followed by Yoongi. Namjoon looks so much like his dad: tall, dragon brown eyes, charismatic aura. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree like they say. You bow at your big boss like your other colleagues and the meeting starts. Even if some employees defend other interns, most of them praise Jungkook's work. He was enthusiastic and motivated with everyone and showed a real willing to learn the job.

"I kept a report that I asked him to write at the end of his first week. As you can see, he has done a very good job at it and I'm sure that, if we give him the opportunity, he'll be an important element of our team" You end your presentation, glad of how it turned out

Well, that was before the little brat of Yoongi. The second you set eyes on him, you notice his mischievous smirk. Even before he opens his vicious mouth, you want to slap him in the face.

"You seemed to get along with Mr. Jeon. I even think you're the one who got to know him the best. Maybe you could tell us more about his personality? Is he nice?" Yoongi's voice is jeering and a little condescending but you're sure that no one gets it

You know damn well what he means by 'nice'. Yoongi hasn't stopped implying that you had a crush on Jungkook. His sick brain is obsessed with the idea of you having a relationship with Jungkook for whatever reason. But is he really willing to discredit your judgment in front of your boss? You swear you could strangle him right now.

"Jungkook seems to be loyal. Like I said, he is cheerful and motivated. These are the qualities we should look for in a candidate, don't you think Mr. Min?" You answer and internally jump in joy when you witness Yoongi's face turning red in frustration

"Sure" He simple replays, jaws clenched

A few minutes later, a vote designates Jungkook as the intern who'll get the job offer. The good news make you happy. Jungkook truly deserves it after how hard he has worked this month. You can't wait to tell him. You feel like a proud mom, maybe because you see Jungkook as your protégé.

On your way back to your desk, you encounter Jungkook. His all back suit and tie enhances his charisma but the big bunny smile and scrunching nose he gives you make your heart melt in cuteness. You exchange few civilities.

"We just had the meeting regarding you guys" You tell him at some point

"Oh really? How did it go?" He genuinely asks, without even thinking about him in particular but about his four colleagues that became his friends

His sincerity moves you. He looks so much like you four years ago.

"Can I tell you a secret?" You ask with a smile and he nods

You step closer, stand on your tiptoes — Jungkook shouldn't be this tall — and whisper in his ear.

"You're the one who'll get the offer"

Jungkook looks into your eyes, surprise painted on his face. It just lasts a few second because he soon blushes hard.

"Really?" He says with a small voice, just like he was afraid to wake up from a dream if he speaks too loud

"Yes, congratulations!" You tell him

He gives you a big hug, his body completely controlled by his euphoria. You giggle and hug him back. Seeing his reaction proves you once again that he deserves it.

However, in this moment of ecstasy, you didn't notice Namjoon. He, on the other hand, is clearly aware of what's going on. He looks at Jungkook hugging you and a heavy pound is drawing down his heart for an unknown reason. When did you get this close to this intern? He knows you were in charge of him at the beginning of the month but did you keep in touch? Your bright smile caused by another man's embrace irritates him so much. What the hell is going on?

He doesn't think too much and walks — would he dare to say run? — to the two of you and clears his throat. Your pretty eyes land on Namjoon's face and you step away from Jungkook. The young man greets your boss but Namjoon doesn't really respond. Yet, he addresses you:

"You didn't forget our tryst, right?"

What?

Yes, you have planned to grab a drink with Namjoon tonight to wind down all the stressful events of the week, and it's not the first time, but it surely is the first time your boss refers to it as a 'tryst'. It's not a business meeting but it's nothing like a romantic date so why would Namjoon use such a confusing word?

"I-I didn't" You stutter, not sure what else to say

"Good, see you later then, Y/N" Namjoon replies with a bright smile that shows his dimples and leaves as fast as he has arrived, leading to an awkward silence between you and Jungkook

————

You don't know if that's because of Namjoon's words earlier but you do feel nervous while waiting for your boss. You do as always, that is to say you're standing at your desk, right in front of Namjoon's office. You know that he'll join you in a few minutes and your heart beats irregularly. You try some breathing exercices to calm you down. It works — until you heard Namjoon's steps getting closer to you. You're sure you're blushing facing his handsomeness. God, this cream-color suit with his white shirt are too perfect on him.

"You're ready?" He asks you with a smile

You nod and you two exits the building. You're heading towards your usual spot: a lounge bar not so far away from Kim Electronics building. It's not really your style, the bar being attended by rich business men and women, but you know that Namjoon likes it. It's not at all surprising since he grew up in the social elite. However, he is not haughty. He treats people right and never thinks he's superior just because he has money. To be honest, his parents made sure to teach him values and he is so thankful of that when he sees other chaebol, sons or daughters of the rich industrial South Korean conglomerate, being total dicks.

Your nervousness fades with the glasses you swallow. Four glasses of wine later, you're a little bit more than tipsy. In fact, you've drunken faster than you usually do because you didn't know how to act with Namjoon. You're now fully aware of your feelings for him but you can't say anything when he is getting married to someone's else. You sigh at that thought and drink another sip of alcohol.

"Are you okay?" Namjoon asks, worried that you haven't spoke much tonight

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" You answer but not looking at him, he knows damn well you're lying

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

The softness of his deep voice and the sudden coming closer to look at you in the eyes are a threat for your weak heart. Fuck, he is even more handsome at close range. You loose all your determination and allow yourself to get lost into his beautiful eyes. Your owns slowly make their way to Namjoon's full lips, dying to taste them. You can clearly depict his little mold under his lower lip and you crave to feel him. A fire sets up inside you and goes right between your legs. You press your thighs together because of your pussy wetness. It enhances when Namjoon pokes his tongue out to moisture his lips, making them juicier.

"Don't marry her"

What the fuck are you saying?! You didn't even realize your words until it's too late. You wish the ground below you could open and swallow you.

"What?" Namjoon's high pitch and gulp say much about his surprise

"I was joking" You attempt, faking a little laugh — you don't even believe yourself

Namjoon doesn't say anything and you feel worse. He is your friend but he is also your boss. You can't tell him not to marry Lee Ji-Eun while you know that they — unfortunately — get along and that their marriage would have such a good and big impact on Kim Electronics. You're ridiculous if you think, just for one second, that something could happen between you and Namjoon. He is way too handsome, way too important to be interested in you. You're just a mundane person. The only reason you're talking to him is because you work for his family's company.

Even though you've been knowing this harsh reality for a long time, it still hurts to remember it. Water fills your eyes and you turn your head to prevent Namjoon from noticing it. But it's too late. You feel two big and warm palms on your cheeks, gently making you look at him. A worried expression is painted on his handsome face.

"Hey, tell me what's wrong" He speaks softly, his heart breaking a little when he remarks the pain into your pretty eyes

You can't tell him the whole truth but you can say a part of it.

"It's just that... I'm afraid things will change between us, at work" Your voice breaks at the last word

It's crystal clear that everything will change after Namjoon's wedding. Would you be strong enough to see the man you love with someone else? To suffer in silence while he'll look at Ji-Eun with love eyes?

"Nothing will ever change between us, Y/N. You're not just my assistant, you're my friend" Namjoon's soft tone is supposed to release you but his words are another dragger in your heart

It's even more painful when his hands caressing your cheeks — now soaked by the tears you couldn't hold — are nothing like the sense you would like them to have. He is doing that by friendship, and you would like him to do it by love.

"I have an idea" You gulp since you have a bad feeling about what Namjoon is going to propose "Let's go hiking, with Ji-Eun. You'll see you have nothing to worry about. I'm sure you'll get along"

Fuck, that hurts. The light of affection in Namjoon's eyes when he talks about Ji-Eun is painful to watch. Even his gorgeous smile and dimples look like a deadly weapon when they're for someone's else. You swallow the lump in your throat and agree. What else could you do? So you drink more than you should to forget that you made a pact with the devil.

————

You thought about all kinds of excuses to cancel the hike but you're a terrible liar and Namjoon would have read right into your lies. For the first time in your life, you pray for a rainy day in May. However, stepping out Namjoon's car — he came to pick you up while Ji-Eun uses her own car to meet you directly at Bukhansan National Park —a bright sun is shining high in the sky on this Saturday morning. You sigh while Namjoon grabs your two backpacks with water, snacks and first aid just in case. He helps you wearing it and adjusts the straps. The brief contact of his hands on your shoulders doesn't go unnoticed by your heart. Why are you sensitive when it comes to him? You can hear your heartbeats in your ears. You're so stupid when you're in love.

"Great!" Namjoon exclaims, finding you very cute with your white cap on and your pouty face

You take a few seconds to appreciate Namjoon without his working clothes. He looks so different with his tight dark blue tank top and his black shorts, with a white cap just like you. You can clearly see his muscles flexing every time he moves. His biceps are huge, way more that you could imagine when they wrapped under the fabric of his shirts. His tank top molds his buff chest so well, you can practically count his abs. You can't deny that he's hot like that, so fucking daddy material. Imagining him being your baby daddy and the process of making it raises a wave of arousal in you. Okay, you're officially crazy...

A horn stops your fantasy. You look up to witness a big red Range Rover getting parked. It doesn't take long for Ji-Eun to step out and meet you. You put a smile on your face while your whole confidence crumbles down. Ji-Eun is so gorgeous, way more than the photos you've seen of her. Her fair skin compliments her dark eyes and hair. Her features are delicate, she looks like a china doll. Just as if wasn't enough for her to have a perfect face, she is wearing a way more appealing outfit than you. Ji-Eun could be a model for a sportswear brand: her adjusted white fake-skirt and her fitness tank top hugs her small frame perfectly.

You look down at your own cloths and frown. You should have picked something more complimenting than some oversize shorts — they actually once belong to your dad in the 1980s — and an old t-shirt from your university. You have no style. Hopefully, your hiking skills will give the change. To be true, you like hiking and since Namjoon discovered your taste in common, he has often invited you to go on a hike with him. You quite love those moments with your boss outside the office. You get to forget everything and breathe pure air for a few hours, and you talk about anything except work. You also do think that this kind of activities deepen your connection with him.

However, his fucking I'm-stupidly-in-love smile has returned and Ji-Eun blushes. You want to slap them both in the face. A burning jealousy builds inside you and you hate the feeling. It hurts to see the man you love loving someone else.

"Namjoon! I hope you didn't wait too long for me" Ji-Eun says with an annoying honey voice

Yeah, just like you weren't here.

"Not at all. Let me introduce you" Namjoon turns towards you "This is Y/N, my assistant and good friend. Y/N, you can officially meet Ji-Eun after hearing so much about her"

"Nice to meet you" You find the strength to lie

"Me too" Ji-Eun offers you a shy smile

Actually, Ji-Eun has heard of you too. Namjoon often talks about you, rather because it's related to work or — something she doesn't like much — unrelated to work. When he offered Ji-Eun to join you for hiking, she accepted thinking that she'd feel less threaten by you. However, it's worse now. She expected you to be less pretty. Ji-Eun is pretty confident about her look, that's why she didn't suggest a one-on-one date with Namjoon today. But now, she knows that it's impossible for Namjoon not to find you attractive. Maybe she should allude for Namjoon to put you in another service after their wedding? Just to keep you away from him.

"Alright" Namjoon claps enthusiastically in his hands "Let's go!"

Your little group starts hiking. At first, you cursed at yourself for wearing an ugly cap but when you see how Ji-Eun is slowly melting down under the sun, you're pretty glad with your choice.

After a few minutes, the rail gets more inclined since the Bukhansan Mount starts. The park is an attended spot of Seoul people willing to go on a trek. It's not an easy one but the delightful tensing in your legs as you feel your muscles working is a great reward. The nature, the trees, the flowers and the butterflies around you clean your lungs from the pollution of the South Korean capital.

"One step further—" Namjoon starts suddenly

"One less step later" You fill, and you both laugh

It's something you've kept saying the first time Namjoon and you went to hike. Namjoon was so tired that day that he was complaining non-stop. So you came up with this sentence to keep him motivated.

"You remember when we went to Geumjeongsanseong Fortress, in Busan?" Namjoon asks you

"Of course I remember! I thought I was going to kill you" You joke

Your hike to Geumjeongsanseong Fortress is definitely one of the most memorable moments with your boss. It was two years ago when Namjoon was assisting a major event with the main industrial firms of South Korea. Since you had one day off, you'd decided to go for a trek. You knew this trek was one of the most difficult ones: nine miles with huge stones path, almost climbing parts. The point was to visit the famous fortress. However, nothing went as it was supposed to when it started raining. Or more like pouring. You had no other choice than to keep going, careful not to break an ankle on a sliding rock. You remember damn well asking your boss if he had checked the weather and his positive respond, while he actually didn't do it.

"I've never seen you this mad" Namjoon continues

"I was but, I have to say, the path was beautiful. I don't regret it"

"I'm glad to hear that" Namjoon gives you a bright smile, remembering all the hardships you both went through to see the goddamn fortress

If you and Namjoon are sharing a good laugh, full of different memories and private jokes, Ji-Eun is boiling in rage. Namjoon used to give her his loving eyes and his genuine smile. So why is he giving them to his assistant? Ji-Eun loves to be the center of attention and right now, it's like she isn't even here. More than jealous, she feels attacked in her pride. She and Namjoon are definitely going to get married so she has to get rid of you. You're just a stupid assistant. Your family is not rich, has no relations with the social elite. In other words, you're nothing.

"Namjoon, do you have some water please?" Ji-Eun asks with a fake weak voice

She is planing to fake a weakness so Namjoon worries and focuses on her.

"Of course"

You stop so Namjoon can dig into his backpack and pull out a fresh bottle of water. Ji-Eun takes it delicately and only drinks a sip. You frown, finding it suspicious. If she were really thirsty, she would have drunk more than this.

"Could you walk next to me? I didn't take a hat, but you're tall enough to be my personal parasol" Ji-Eun giggles

She. is. fucking. annoying.

"No prob" Namjoon's usual cheerfulness shines through his sincere smile

He has no clue of Ji-Eun's deceit. You, on the other hand, are clearly aware of it. Especially when she gives you a cold glance.

You're concentrated on internally bitching on Ji-Eun, walking faster than the couple. The sunny weather is the complete opposite of your grumpy mood. You let your inner negative feelings take over you and you rip on a small rock. A vivid pain immobilizes your left ankle and you harshly fall on the ground. If your ankle weren't so painful, maybe you could have felt the hardness of the ground against your kneels and palms, causing small drops of blood forming on your freshly bruised skin.

"Arg!" You hiss when you try to stand up

"Y/N!" Namjoon exclaims as he runs to you

Worry is all over his face but it's nothing compared to all the emotions shaking his chest. He is panicked that you've hurt yourself. The little traces of blood on yours hands and knees makes him wince.

"Where are you hurt? Is it your ankle?" He asks with urgency

You nod, your eyebrows furrowing in pain. Namjoon palpates the source of the pain. He concentrates to feel anything that it's not at the right place but, thankfully, no broken bones is detected. He takes off the first aid kit off of his bag and tightly bandages your ankle.

"I think you've have sprained it" Namjoon says softly "Get on my back, you're going back"

You wince at the idea but when you're up, you quickly realize that you can't walk. You're so fucking stupid. You should have been concentrated on your steps rather than on your jealousy. Actually, more than jealousy, it's pain that you've have felt when you saw how good Namjoon and Ji-Eun looked together. They are both so beautiful and their smiles are so wide when they look at each other.

Namjoon gives his backpack to Ji-Eun who takes it reluctantly. Then, Namjoon kneels down, and you get up on his large back. He secures his forearms under your knees and stands up with no difficulty, just as you were as light as a feather.

"You okay?" He asks you as he starts walking

"Yeah, don't worry about me. Are you though?"

"Of course I am, I get to show my muscles to a pretty lady" Namjoon jokes

Your hearts skips a beat when you wonder if he meant Ji-Eun or you. It isn't really important because you feel your cheeks redden — hopefully you can blame it on the weather — and your heart enhances its pace. When you get to fill Namjoon's neck between your arms, you forget all the pain in your ankle. You love the sensation. You love his scent. You love how his big frame fit in your smaller one.

Namjoon, even if he tries to stay focus on the path not to drift and hurt you more, truly feels the warmth of your body. He also enjoys a little more than he should your boobs pressed against his back. He tightens his grip around your thighs to pull you closer and feel you better. He wishes he could hold you without the lame excuse of your sprained ankle but he knows he shouldn't even think about it. So he keeps his fantasy of his body between your legs — this time facing you — to himself and walks fast to redirect his blood from his hardening cock to his moving legs.

————

Namjoon is sitting at a coffee shop with Ji-Eun after dropping you at your home. He made sure to put some ice on your ankle and asked you one hundred times if you wanted him to stay. You declined, arguing you were tired while you just wanted to cry, knowing that the man who took care of you was destined to someone's else. Namjoon left you with heavy heart and met Ji-Eun as she proposed him.

They still have both their hiking clothes. Ji-Eun is talking about something but Namjoon has no clue since all he is thinking about is you. He wonders if you're okay, if your ankle doesn't hurt much. You looked sad when he left, causing him to grow worried.

"Are you listening?" Ji-Eun asks him with an upset tone

"Sorry, I was worried about Y/N" Namjoon sincerely answers

'You, again' Ji-Eun thinks with clenched jaws. She really has to do something. Her pride makes her want Namjoon's total attention. She is not willing to share it with someone like you. She doesn't really have feelings for Namjoon, even though he is a good looking guy, but his social status and his money are what Ji-Eun is interested in. He will make her look good and that's all she wants. And you in the frame would be like a strain on the painting.

"You know, I think you should keep your distance with your assistant" She starts, faking a worry

"What? Why?" Namjoon is taken aback

Ever since you entered his life, he has never imagined working — or living — without you by his side. He always thought you would be the one next to him when he is finally elected CEO of Kim Electronics. Not only because you play a great role in his success but also because he wants you there, as a person he cares about.

"When we get married, you'll have way more responsibilities. You will need someone with high qualifications to help you. I know someone who could help you, his name is Kim Seokjin. He went to Seoul National University, that says it all. You should hire him"

"What about Y/N?" Namjoon frowns, rage slowly building inside him

"Come on! She is not good enough for you" Ji-Eun laughs

"You know nothing about her" Namjoon snaps, instantly stopping Ji-Eun's laugh "She is the one who helped me getting the post I have now. She is the one who made me a good successor for my father. I couldn't have done it without her. More than my work, she cares about me, as a person. I think it's the best thing you could wish for an assistant and a friend. I don't care what university she went to, she's still the best person I know"

Ji-Eun stays silent for a moment, completely shocked. No one, no man has ever talked to her like that. She is used to have her natural beauty working for her. She just has to snap her fingers to get what she wants. Her ego is smashed up by Namjoon. Why? Because of you. She can't take it.

"I don't want her around when we get married" She says coldly, her tone makes it clear that it's not negotiable

"Don't make me choose between you and Y/N" Namjoon implores

"Why?" Ji-Eun provokes

"Because I'd choose Y/N. I will always choose her" He confesses, more to himself than to Ji-Eun

She made him realize that. You are the most important person in his life. He can't even imagine his life without you. If he's ready to give up his wedding with Ji-Eun just not to put distance with you, what does that mean? Does that mean he's in lo... No. You're just a good friend and an excellent assistant.

"You're an asshole" Ji-Eun says with clenched jaws "I'll be sure to tell my dad what person you're truly are"

"Go ahead" Namjoon is growing tired of Ji-Eun's attitude and pseudo-threat

With a final dramatic gasp, she leaves. Namjoon sighs, lost in all the overwhelming feelings that suddenly seem to wash over him. It's like everything he has buried for four years resurfaces but ten times bigger. So many details come back to his mind: all the little things that made him fall for you.

————

All week long Namjoon has been someway distant with you. He only talked to you about work. Actually, he was practically ignoring you. You were worried about his strange behavior, wondering if something happened between him and Ji-Eun after your shortened hiking, but didn't want to push him to say something he didn't want to. You know him well enough to say that he'll tell you when he is ready.

It's late on Friday, pretty much everyone when home but you stay: Namjoon is still here working hard. He went to meet his dad about ten minutes ago but you stayed at your desk. Since he has been a little bit down the past few days, you can't abandon him. You'll stay until he leaves. That's why you're taking care of Namjoon's mails and meetings for the next weeks as the sun slowly sets down.

"Sunbae, you still here?" Jungkook asks as he arrives at your desk, a genuine smile on his face

"Oh, Jungkook! What are you doing here? You should go out and enjoy your weekend" You tell him

"I just wanted to give a report to Mr. Kim before leaving" He answers, handing you a file

You take it and thank him. Jungkook looks very good after a long day of work, even though his black hair is a little bit messy.

"You're working late, do you want a coffee?" Jungkook gently offers you but you decline, notifying him that you'll be home soon

Just before Jungkook walks away, Namjoon comes back. His whole body tenses when he sees Jungkook smiling at you. Are you that blind not to see he's flirting with you? Or do you like it? Anyway, Namjoon surely doesn't. At all. He walks faster and opens his mouth when he arrives at your desk:

"If you're here to chitchat, you can go home, Y/N"

His harsh tone surprises you. He has never talked to you like that, even when you've made a huge mistake that costed him a billions wons contract. You want to talk back but Namjoon doesn't give you time and enters his office, not without slamming the door.

"I'm sorry if I put you in trouble" Jungkook tells you with a guilty voice, looking down in shame

"Don't worry, you did nothing wrong" You console him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder "You should go, I'll deal with him"

You two wave at each other when the young employee disappears at the end of the hallway. Your smile fades away too, anger taking over your body. You've been worried about Namjoon all week, you've been working harder to ease him and he thanks you by snapping at you? You can't stand his attitude any longer.

What you don't know is that Namjoon avoided you because, after his talk with Ji-Eun, he tried to understand his feelings. Every time he saw you, he found you prettier. It took all his determination not to kiss you and fuck you. He even had to jerk himself off at home thinking about you to control his horniness towards you. It was too much today when he saw you this morning wearing a fucking pencil grey skirt hugging your pretty ass perfectly. Your tight aubergine shirt was unbuttoned enough for Namjoon to have a peak on your bra. Vivid memories of the day he's spilled his coffee on your chest made up to his mind and he knew he couldn't resist anymore. So he went to his dad's office to announce he won't be marry Lee Ji-Eun and that another woman fills all of his heart. But when he came back, he found you giggling with another man.

You storm into his office, harshly closing the door behind you.

"What is wrong with you?" You bark more than you ask

Namjoon looks at you with a unfazed eye. He is not impressed one bit by your temper. Actually, your small frame shivering in wrath is cute.

"Nothing" He replies with a dismissive voice that drives you crazy and he focuses on his computer again

You scoff and step closer, smacking your two palms on his large desk. The loud noise makes Namjoon look at you but his face stays neutral. This is very hard to do when your slightly bent over upper body offers him a great view on your boobs. Is your bra made out of silk? That seems so soft than Namjoon's fingers subtly brush his computer mouse while he imagines touching you. Of course, you have no clue of that.

"Spill it" You say between your teeth

"There is nothing to say, Y/N"

"Really? Because you've been ignoring me all week and now you're acting like an ass"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have to be reminded you're at work when you flirt in front of my office"

"What?! I was not flirting!" You exclaim, completely taken aback

"Sure" Namjoon talks back with his jaws clenched

"Wait" You say, making Namjoon look into your eyes "Are you jealous?" You ask with narrow eyes

"Stop talking non-sense" But his reddenned cheeks speak otherwise

"Yes, you are" You insist as you get around his desk and place yourself next to him

"I am not" He whispers, drawing his eyes back to the screen

"Look at me" You say as you grab his cheeks with your thumb and forefinger

Your breathe is cut off one second. He is way too handsome. The whole atmosphere gets heavy and tensed but not in a negative way. His lips are right here, ready to be kissed and you so fucking want it. You would like to ride his pretty face to make him pay for ignoring you all week. Your heart beats louder and faster, and your body gets hotter. Some wetness gathers in your panties. You try to keep calm but your inside is messed up by Namjoon's hotness. You gulp.

Your brain turns off the second Namjoon stands up and kisses you harshly. He moves so fast that you can't react. It doesn't really matter because you don't want to push him away. His pulp lips are so soft that you moan against them. Namjoon grabs the back of your head to kiss you deeper, his other hand presses against your lower back. You can feel his bulge and your pussy gets wetter.

Namjoon starts attacking your neck, pressing rough kisses on your throat. You're quite sure you'll have hickeys tomorrow. Your hands run through his short hair to pull him closer. Namjoon's delicate fingers work on your shirt to open it. He harshly squeezes your boob through the cup of your bra, making you wince in delight. He smiles when he confirms that it was a silk fabric, so soft under his fingers. Then, he drag down your bra, just enough to free your hard nipples. His mouth captures your sensitive tits and you throw your head back under the pleasure. You feel his teeth gently bite them and it's delightedly painful. Are you ready letting your boss tease your nipples with his tongue in his office? You're crazy. Too bad you don't give a fuck right now.

"I've dreamt about that ever since I ripped your fucking blouse" Namjoon groans between the licks he gives to your nipples

He is soft despite his harsh moves. It's almost like he wants to punish you and adore you at the same time.

Once he is satisfied with the swelling of your breasts and the little reddish marks he created on your skin, he pushes you against his desk, turns you over and finally bends you over. The cold material against your heated skin makes you shiver. You have never imagine Namjoon being so dominant but fuck! you love it. Your perfect ass is at full display for him. Only him. He slaps your cheek and the slight burn is so good that your pussy clenches.

"You drive me crazy" Namjoon whispers so low that you barely hear him but you could say exactly the same since your brain is completely fogged by horniness

He pulls up your tight skirt, exposing your cunt and ass only covered by your white — and now soaked — panties. The cold air on your burning skin mixed with the possibility of someone entering his office is so sinful that you could cum right now. The biggest wave of arousal you've ever experienced washes over you. All that caused by your boss.

The view of your ass makes Namjoon painfully hard in his pants. Fuck, he could ruin you, right now, in his office. He wants to make you scream his name while he pounds into your pussy, and if this Jungkook guy hears you, it's even better.

Namjoon kneels down and you can feel his breathing on your skin. Since you can't see him, you're even more focus on physical contacts. He first kisses your asscheek and starts rubbing your clit through the thin fabric of your panties with his thumb, making you gasp of pleasure.

"I want to eat you out" He says with a raspy voice, indirectly asking for your consent

Just imagining it makes a choked moan escape your lips and you nod frenetically. Namjoon smirks at your neediness. You're craving for his touch and he loves it. Does that mean that you want him as much as he wants you?

He wastes no time and push your panties aside. Your glistening cunt is so pretty. Seeing your arousal, caused by him, all over your pussy boosts his ego. He dives into it, taking a large strap of your juices. He applies the right amount of pressure on your clit with his tongue. It's so good that you moan his name. You feel high on horniness. Your pussy clenches when Namjoon roughly grabs your two asscheeks to spread them, giving him more access to your dripping cunt. You look so desperate, so submissive. You are fucking bent over his desk and he is eating your pussy. He fucking loves it. He didn't know how much he wanted to see you like this until now and he is not ready to stop.

"Fuck" You choke up, your right hand making its way to his hair and pulling him closer

"My girl is needy, uh? She loves when I eat her pretty cunt, right?" Namjoon teases against your pussy

How can he be so good with his mouth? His tongue licks, circles and sucks on your sensitive bud. You gasp for air when you feel your orgasm building inside you. It's true that you haven't been touched for a long time but you know damn well that if you'll cum soon it's essentially because of Namjoon's skills. He makes you feel so good, so alive that you wish you've let him touched you before. Why did you wait four years?

"I'm gonna cum" You say in a whimper

Instantly, Namjoon pulls away and stands up, making you wince.

"Namjoon!" You gasp in surprise, disappointment and frustration — you knew it would have been a great orgasm

You turn your head to meet his satisfied smirk. He looks like a predator with his lips, nose and chin glistening of your juices. The sight is so hot and you could appreciate it if he didn't deny your orgasm.

"You'll cum around my cock like a good girl" His voice is so deep and his words so naughty that your walls tighten around nothing "But first, I have to prep you" Namjoon gets closer to your ear to whisper "I wouldn't want to slit you in two"

He looks so confident, but his cock couldn't be so big, right? You don't have time to think about because two fingers slip inside your pussy. The slight stretching is so good you could cry. Namjoon penetrates you at the right pace, making sure your walls get expanded enough not to hurt you with his dick. His goal is not really to give you pleasure — even though he does. You mutter your moans with your hand as you feel his digits going in and out into you. They are making a mess out of your dripping pussy.

Once Namjoon thinks you're ready enough, he takes off his fingers out of you. They are completely glistening with your arousal and he smirks of how wet you are for him. He guides his hand towards your face and you blush when you witness how much of a pool you have between your legs.

"Open your mouth" Namjoon orders and you do

He pushes his fingers between your lips and you taste yourself. You use your tongue to clean his digits and it's so fucking hot that you feel some arousal leaking down your thighs, making you shiver.

"Good girl" Namjoon praises you, then putting those same fingers into his mouth to taste both your juices and your saliva and it's making you clench

The eye he is giving you is totally filled with lust. His eyes are so intense, you have never felt so sexy, so wanted. Your cheeks redden even more and you can't wait to feel him inside you. Your arousal is written all over your face and pussy. Namjoon wishes you could see youself like that: completely desperate for his cock. He drags down his pants and boxers at the same time, freeing his dick. And fuck. Your eyes widen for the greatest delight of Namjoon. He is big. Huge. Definitely the biggest dick you've ever seen. His fat cock, hard and proud, stands a few inches away from your pussy and you wonder how can it fit. You gulp and Namjoon laughs at your reaction.

"My girl can take it" He says to ease you, kissing your cheeks

My girl. Why does his possessiveness make you wet? You want to be his, even just for a moment, even just while he fucks you. You are pretty sure that you could let him do whatever he wants with your body right now.

Namjoon gives himself a few pumps and guides his length to your entrance. You moan when you feel his tip against your pussy. You mouth opens and your eyes shut down while Namjoon slowly pushes himself into you. It's not really difficult considering how wet you are. His two big hands settle on your hips, tightly. He is so big that you feel your pussy getting stretched. A lot. It's almost painful but it's so fucking good. He completely fills you up and you love it.

"So big" You groan, grabbing his forearm with one hand for dear life, the other one trying to catch onto something

"You're so fucking tight. Your little pussy feels so good around my cock"

Namjoon starts pounding, not so gently and enhances the pace just after a few seconds. He's rough. He lets out all the frustration of the week. Thankfully, the fabric of his pants creates a barrier between your skins that mutters the sinful sound of clapping. Namjoon tightens his grip on your hips to enter you deeper and faster. Each single bumping causes you to hit his desk, shaking everything that is on it. Your moans are so loud that if someone goes by the hallway, they'll hear you. You attempt to mute yourself by biting your lip but you don't do a really good job at it.

Your pussy gets tighter as your orgasm comes closer. Namjoon feels it and guides one of his hand around your neck to pull your back against his chest. The change of angle makes his huge cock find your g-spot. You whimper at the surprise and delight but it's so much to take, you're not sure you'll get through this alive, especially when he doesn't slow his pace one bit.

"Right here, right here!" You scream despite your choked throat, overwhelmed by the sensation of Namjoon's fat dick hardly hitting the perfect area

Your legs are so weak that he has to wrap his other arm around your waist to support your body. Between his arms, you look small and fragile although he is ramming you hardly. Namjoon's hand on your throat presses softly and you feel his heavy breathe into your ear. Your ass gets slapped by his abs at each harsh pounding. You've never been fucked so roughly and yet, you love it.

"Be mine" He says so lowly that you're not sure of you imagined it

"What?" Your eyes open in astonishment, your breathe cut off

"Be mine, Y/N" He repeats so desperately and your heart melts at the same time than your pussy

You cum so hard that you can't even let a sound leaves your open mouth. Your legs shake so much that Namjoon has to slow his pace but makes sure to stay entirely inside you. You're out of breathe and completely shaken by the fact that your boss just made you cum — the best orgasm of your life — and by his words. You slowly settle down from your high but Namjoon's cock sliding in your cunt makes you hungry again. A few second after you've cummed, you're ready for another orgasm.

"Answer me" Namjoon orders with a harsh tone that matches his harsh poundings, accentuating his words with a strong slap on your ass

"I'm yours" You moan, your eyes watering

Two big and round tears roll down your cheeks because of the harsh and delightful spanking but also because you have confessed something that you've kept so difficulty to yourself for weeks.

Namjoon tenderly kisses your wet cheek and his hand leaves your throat to caress your jaw. Fuck, he was so afraid you'd say no. His heart was pounding in his chest, and not only from his physical efforts. Now that he knows you both share feelings, he wants to fuck you deeper, just to show you how much he cares about you. Your tits bounce under his tamping.

"You're taking me so good. You're so perfect" He growls "My girl..."

"Joon" You moan, your hand going up to grab his hair, making him groan

You get, once again, so close to your high. Your pussy clenches around Namjoon's cock and he smirks. The hand that secures your waist goes down and starts rubbing your clit. It's too much for you. It's painfully delightful. The sensation is overwhelming, you almost faint out of pleasure.

"Cum around me, baby"

It's all you needed. You cum for the second time, screaming his name. The way his name rolls on your tongue when you're cumming makes Namjoon's cock twitch inside you.

"Fuck, I love you" He whispers, eyes shut down and his face coiling into your neck

Your heart is doing backflips in your chest. Namjoon loves you. Your eyes gets more watery, an overwhelming feeling of affection and love you both share is washing over you.

He gives you a few more dick strokes and hot shots of thick cum are spread on your walls. He is panting. His shirt is now completely sticked by sweat to his chest but he doesn't care. Your shaking frame is wrapped by his strong arms and he hugs you tight while his cock softens inside you. Your hands caress his forearms and your head rests on his shoulder. It's a peaceful moment after the rough fucking you've shared. You're so tired but so light at the same time. Your heart could jump out of your chest from happiness.

"I love you too, Joonie" You whisper after a few seconds of silence

You feel Namjoon smiles against your neck. He pulls out of your pussy, causing his cum to drip. He quickly pushes it back into your cunt with his fingers and you find it so hot. He replaces your panties correctly to secure it. Yeah, he could be your baby daddy and by the playful look in his eyes, you quite have the feeling he is thinking about the exact same thing.

"It's my gift" He teases you and you blush

He quickly puts back his dick into his pants and helps you with your clothes. Namjoon doesn't stop kissing your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and your lips. You giggle like a teenager when you feel so loved. You lift your eyes and meet his beautiful brown ones. They are so tender while they're looking at you.

"Let's go out for diner, I want to take my girl on a date"

"I'm your girl now?" You twit him

"Of course!" Namjoon replies as he softly captures your cheeks with his large and warm palms "You said you were mine. You can't go back now"

You smile at him, not wishing one bit to undo the tie that now links you to Namjoon. You look at his cute dimples that you can now kiss every time you want and this silly thought provides you so much joy that you wonder how you could have lived without it for four years.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts #bts namjoon #namjoon #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #kim namjoon #knj #knj smut

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