#my dreams don’t really have a clear plot

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Last night I had a dream that I only vaguely remember where someone tried to switch hualian and beefleaf but kept failing because too much of Hua Cheng’s character was him being whipped and they didn’t know how to deal with that. I was entirely useless but did find their approach to making Xie Lian gender-fluid interesting (i don’t remember what they did when doing that).

I was basically just sitting there with a sprite I got from a movie theater that was closing (dream right before this one) and being entirely useless as help (but I was entertained)

[mobbothetrue]

I had a very cool dream with a sick as hell fight scene in it which was very epic, except now I wanna rewatch the fight and it exists only in my brain

[chuluoyi]

HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre/warnings: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

[jenscx]

LOVE ME BACK — yu jimin

after a nasty breakup with your boyfriend of two years, you find solace in a bar and a mystery woman’s arms. you were convinced it was just a one time thing. yet, you didn’t expect to see her again at your workplace.

TAGS — fluff, lowk crack, suggestive themes, mentions of sex and alcohol, ceo!rina, office au, reader has a boyfriend (at first), hwang hyunjin as plot device, mentions of cheating, probably a hr violation, jealousy, hidden relationship, cursing

WORDCOUNT — 10.3k

when you were younger, your dream was to be an astronaut. now in your early twenties, you’ve succumbed to the average 9-5 job that every adult hates. your job was a pain in the neck, figuratively and literally. staring at a computer all day was tough work, but if you said that out loud, you would seem like a lunatic.

your hands dance bleakly across the keyboard, fingers tapping insistently to finish the report. maybe you would even get home on time today. a vibration from your phone distracts your focus, a message from your boyfriend.

staring at the notification, you sigh and pick up your phone to text back. it’s a chain of messages, ranging from urgent calls to angry scoldings. your eyes narrow as a call comes in, displaying, hyun ♡.

“hyunjin oppa,” you whisper, “i’m at work.”

“you’re still at work? i thought i told you that my sister’s visiting today? my mum’s cooking for you.”

groaning internally, you reply softly, “i’m really sorry but this report will probably take half an hour more. tell unnie and auntie i’ll be late.”

hyunjin’s voice rings through the phone, irritated, “i told you about it. did you forget or are you just not willing to spend time with my family?”

“i didn’t forget, seriously, and you know i love your family and your mum’s cooking.”

that’s kind of a lie. you weren’t really welcomed with his family. his mother had objected to your relationship from the get go. his father was cold and indifferent. his sister was the only one who actually talked to you. but his mother’s cooking was good.

“you’re prioritising your work over spending time with me,” hyunjin states.

“i made this clear from the start,” you pinch your nose bridge, “my job always comes first.”

his annoyed tone shines through, bright as day, “i don’t get why you’re still working at that firm. i can provide for the both of us.”

you sigh, frustrated at hyunjin’s insolence.

“i enjoy this job,” a lie, “i don’t want to just stay in my apartment all day with nothing to do and i worked hard to get here.” true.

“that’s why you should just move in with me.” with that mother of his? no way in hell.

“i like my apartment,” you say firmly, glancing at the unfinished report open, “oppa, if you’re just going to scold me, at least do it later. i’m working now.”

“you’re always working. how can you work so much? y/n, are you preoccupied with something else? or someone?”

anger bubbles lowly in your veins.

“what on earth are you saying?”

“i’m saying that you may be busy with someone. whatever, if you’re always working, let’s just end things here. i can’t always be waiting for you at home.”

“you don’t make time for me either. on my off-days, you always hang out with your friends. how many dates have you cancelled?”

“i’m sorry i have a social life. my life doesn’t revolve around spending time with you. if you have a problem with it, let’s break up.”

you roll your eyes. you would be amused at how a 24 year old would think so irrationally, if that 24 year old wasn’t breaking up with you right now. your hand forms a fist on the table. maybe hyunjin was fine with lazing around at home, letting his mother serve him like a maid. but you weren’t. hyunjin didn’t have any ambitions, dropping out of college after his first year, claiming it was too difficult. you had only cooed at him gently, his first and only year at college was when you met him and started dating.

“fine. let’s break up as you wish. ask yeji unnie to pack my things at your house, i’ll pick it up—”

the call ends abruptly, you’re baffled at his childish antics. groaning, you throw your head into your hands. was your two year relationship really ending here? over a phone call? tossing your phone to the side, you perk up, determined to take your mind off your boyfriend. you still had a job to do after all.

yet, the thought of losing the two years you’ve spent with hyunjin makes you frown. he wasn’t a bad boyfriend. he was a nice guy, most of the time. he was a man after all, he had his stupid moments. spending two years with him meant that some part of you actually liked him. maybe not to the extent of love. you’ve never thought about it.

is that why he broke up with you? because you weren’t in it for love? was hwang hyunjin just another guy for you to past time with? if you couldn’t find love with a guy like hyunjin, who’s good looking and well-mannered, who could you find love with? were you some emotionless robot who didn’t care for others’ feelings?

forcefully removing these persisting questions from your head, you focus on the report. missing fabric, wrong dimensions, plagiarised designs, what was wrong with this fashion company?

“sunbae, still not clocking out?” kim minjeong, the new intern and coincidentally, your junior from high school, peeks above your computer. you shake your head, smiling sheepishly at her, “don’t call me sunbae, I’m ms seo right now.”

minjeong pouts, “sorry, i’m just not used to it. and you’re only like, a year older. want me to wait for you?”

you eye the report with distain, grimacing, “it’s okay, minjeong. you can go first, i think this will take a long time.”

the younger girl nods and quickly leaves. you’ve never wished you were someone else so badly before. your eyes follow minjeong from her cubicle to the lift. you slap your cheeks, willing yourself to focus.

after a few excruciating long hours, you clap your hands merrily, eyes gleaming with excitement and happiness. the stupid report was finally finished! you hum happily as you pack up your things. once you had picked up your bag, a notification graces your phone.

swiping up, it’s a text from yeji, warning you that hyunjin had left the house urgently. concerned, but not panicking, you reply saying that maybe he went out for fresh air. yeji’s next few messages are about how their mother is blaming you for hyunjin’s bad mood.

whatever. you can’t find it in yourself to care.

still overjoyed by the fact you had finished the mundane report, you head down to the lobby, grinning. a few employees who were still there eyed you weirdly but you brushed them off. today was a good day, despite stupid hyunjin.

as the doors open, you bring out your phone. no new messages from hyunjin or yeji. maybe it was partially your fault for making promises you couldn’t keep. ugh. the late night graces your presence, streets filled with busy cars. you check the time, 8pm. you should take your mind off hyunjin. and what better way to do so than to go get drunk?

you quickly text yizhuo, who’s probably also drinking right now.

seo y/n [8.26pm]:

are u at jiwoong’s bar?

i just ended

ning yizhuo [8.27pm]:

how’d you know?

i’m drinking with chenle

come unnie

chenle? you furrow your brows. wasn’t he that super rich kid who yizhuo plays video games with? ah, whatever, you seriously need to get drunk now.

swiftly hauling down a cab (honestly, props to you. calling a taxi at night was basically war), you make your way to the bar.

it’s a relatively new establishment, furnished with matte dark oak floorings and a sleek marble bar. it was the closest bar to your workplace, making it a common meeting area for you and your co-workers. normally, during the last day of each month, team manager kim would bring you to go drinking. you push at the doors, the sight of two figures yelling at each other greet you. usually, you would have ignored it. it’s a bar, it’s common to have drunk people fighting. yet, when you squinted closely, realisation struck you.

“hyunjin?” you gasp, “what are you doing here?”

your ex-boyfriend swerves around, eyes blazing with fury as yizhuo curses at him.

“where were you?” he demands, “i texted you multiple times.”

you turn on your phone, grimacing at the countless messages.

“it was on silent mode. if you want to talk, let’s go outside, don’t disturb the people here.”

yizhuo attempts to follow but you just hold a hand out. if hyunjin hurt yizhuo, you would never forgive yourself. besides, this was something you had to do alone.

begrudgingly, hyunjin agrees and exits the bar. out in the street, you take note of his dishevelled self.

“why’d you decide to come here? i know you’re here to find another guy. who is it? i’ll fucking kill him,” hyunjin seethes. you notice the slight flush in his face. was he drunk?

unable to remain passive, you say firmly, “hyunjin, you said you wanted to break up. now that i’ve seen you, let’s break up.”

“are you fucking serious?” he asks incredulously, “i came all the way here to find you and you are the one breaking up with me?”

you retort, “you are the one who said you want to end things. if i found another guy, so what? we’re not dating anymore.”

your last few words hit a nerve. hyunjin’s hands fly out to grab your arms, furiously digging his fingernails into your wrists.

“i’ll fucking kill you if you leave me for another man, don’t test me seo y/n,” he growls. disgusted, you try to escape from his hold. being taller and a guy, he’s obviously stronger. you feel your skin breaking at the edge.

“let go!” you grit your teeth, trying to pry his fingers off. he relentlessly grips on, even managing to avoid any attempts of your escape.

slow, steady footsteps approach. you notice the look of anxiety on hyunjin’s face. what would this look like to an outsider? his grip doesn’t lessen however. the figure opens the doors, raising an eyebrow.

“what the hell are you looking at?” hyunjin snarls. your eyes fly to the stranger. it’s a woman, thank god.

despite your current predicament, you can’t help but admire the woman staring at you. her face was sculpted by the gods; dark, deep, hypnotising eyes, a tall nose bridge, red, full lips that formed a thin line.

“why are you assaulting a woman?” god, you could just die hearing her voice. husky and intimidating, hyunjin was practically quivering in his feet.

“i-i’m not doing anything! you’re the one staring at us, bitch.”

her eyes narrow and she scoffs, “did your mother teach you any manners? i was just concerned for her safety,” she gestures to you, “it seems as if you’re holding her here, unwilling to let go.”

“i’m not doing jackshit.”

your eyes bore into her, calling out for help.

“ah,” the stranger inches closer, fingers trailing from your shoulder to your arm. you shudder at her touch. she smirks, “why don’t you let her go now? or should i call the police on you, hwang hyunjin?”

hyunjin’s face turns red. nervousness grows at the sight of his anger.

“how the fuck do you know my name?”

she tilts her head, reminiscent of a curious puppy, “oh, don’t you know who i am? tell your father if his son acts up again, we might not continue our deal.”

“how do you know my dad?” hyunjin yells, “and what deal do you have with him?”

“i’m your father’s biggest business partner. how would he feel if he found out he lost his company because of his idiot son? or would you want me to reveal some of your own secrets? what’s her name, jiyeon?”

your eyes widen at the mention of hyunjin’s ex. he had broken up with lee jiyeon months before meeting you. why was this stranger bringing her up again? and how did she know so much?

hyunjin glances at you, “don’t you fucking dare.”

by now, hyunjin had let go of your hand entirely. the stranger just sighs dramatically and stares at her fingernails.

“hyunjin-ssi, you really have a knack for being a public nuisance. i just wanted a drink, and my precious evening was interrupted by you screaming. ah, should you really be concerned about your ex-girlfriend finding a new guy? haven’t you already done so while still in the relationship?”

in a second, hyunjin lunges for the stranger. his hands fly out to grab at her hair, but she manages to dodge the sudden attack. frowning at hyunjin, the stranger finally scoffs, “you’re pathetic. don’t you dare touch my clothes, they’re designer. leave now before i call the cops on you.” despite his anger, hyunjin actually looks spooked and quickly stomps away. thank god. she swats off the imaginary dust on her shoulders and turns to you.

in contrast to before, she sends a small smile, “you did a good job breaking up with this idiot.”

“thank you for saving me.”

she shrugs, “it’s all right. he was being a nuisance.”

“i’m sorry…” you ask, “but how did you know so much about hyunjin?”

“i deal with the hwang group. i have met his father on several occasions. sometimes, he has to clean up his son’s mess. most of the time, he can’t do it alone. hence, he finds us,” her smile turns into a grimace, “i apologise that someone like him has been taking advantage of you. i assure you that hwang hyunjin and park jiyeon will be taken care of.”

“no, it’s okay, i kind of had a feeling already,” you hesitate to reach out to her, “uhm, can i know your name?”

the stranger adjusts her clothes; a black pantsuit. your eyes trail down from her face to her luminous black hair. they follow the shape of her jawline, sharp as a knife, down to her collarbones. you unconsciously swallow your saliva.

“you can call me jimin,” she says, taking a piece of card out from her pocket, handing it to you. your eyes skim the details. yu jimin. nothing else is on the card except for a phone number. “what can i call you?”

“y/n, seo y/n.”

“if you find yourself in another situation as such, i will do my best to help, y/n.”

you can’t believe a woman like her is pledging her assistance to you.

unable to control yourself, you blurt out, “what can i do to repay you?”

jimin’s eyes form into slits, crinkling into a devilish smile.

“what are you insinuating?”

everything around you is soft, pillowy and warm. except for one. the incessant buzzing of something. it snaps you out of your reverie. groaning loudly, you throw your hand to reach out for the device causing the vibration. your fingers hit an unfamiliar surface. since when did you have a bedside table this close? eyelids fluttering open, you regain consciousness.

“what the hell?” you say out loud, sitting upright in bed. your phone lays beside you, its buzzing unable to distract you from what you’re seeing. white silk sheets covered your bare body, which was littered with bite marks and hickeys. it trailed on from your neck to the dip in your hips. lingering bruises were left on your thighs too.

oh fuck.

you were screwed.

grasping your phone, you scan the room for your clothes. finally catching sight of your scattered clothes, you gently pick them up, face turning red at the sight of your well-marked body. your purse and belongings are littered all over the floor as well. a disgruntled groan emits from the bunched up blankets. it’s only now you realise there’s a person below it, snoring peacefully.

wincing at the slight soreness in your lower body, you gently throw the duvet cover off you and slowly put on your clothes, afraid of disturbing the sleeping woman. taking one last look at the bed, a mop of black hair contrasting the pale serene face below.

running your hands through your hair to comb the mess, you rush out of the bedroom. the sight before you leaves you in awe. whoever this jimin person was, her apartment was amazingly furnished. whatever, you shake your head before you could be further distracted.

there’s countless messages left by yizhuo, all inquiring about your whereabouts. shit. you forgot to tell her. after assuring her that you were alive and not kidnapped, you quickly navigate your way back home. surprisingly, jimin’s modern apartment wasn’t far away from yours, despite the contrast between the two homes. you could infer accurately that karina was some wealthy bachelorette who held power. between her penthouse and the conversation with hyunjin, she was probably a high rank in the business industry.

after reaching your house, you take a much needed shower and slip into a white button up blouse and a black pencil skirt. this was your usual office attire. thankfully, as you had finished the looming report the previous night, you didn’t have to get to the office early. finishing up with some light makeup, you head out satisfied. the soreness in your lower body serves as a constant reminder of the activities you took part in. at least you didn’t have a hangover.

entering the lounge, you spot your colleagues all conversing with one another. minjeong seems to be in a heated debate. your eyes dart to the figure standing by the counter.

“good morning, ms seo,” you bow when team manager kim greets you. kim gaeul, two years your senior, and somewhat of a friend.

“good morning,” you reply. gaeul is sipping on the coffee from the cafe opposite. she gestures towards the paper bag on the counter, “there’s a latte in there for you. good job on the report, i read it this morning.”

you beam at the manager, “thank you so much.” desperately, you chug the latte, relieved that you had caffeine in your body to survive the day ahead. gaeul stares at you in amusement before clearing her throat, “now that everyone is here, i would like to announce that a new ceo will be coming.”

there’s some mutters and murmurs of confusion.

“our current ceo will be resigning,” gaeul says, a fixed smile on her face, “hence the need for a new ceo. she will be here shortly. at ten, please gather in the meeting room so she can introduce herself to all of us.”

you check the time, it was forty past nine. the new ceo will be coming soon. was there enough time to get any work done before she arrived? probably not. you sit down next to minjeong on the couch. she catches you mid yawn.

“sunbae, did you get enough sleep?” your ears blush at the memory of what happened.

“maybe i didn’t sleep well,” you say. minjeong nods, a look of pity on her face, “you must have gotten home late because of that report.”

you scratch your neck, “yeah, i got home pretty late.”

“maybe you can take a quick nap? you still have twenty minutes, i’ll wake you up.”

shaking your head, you chuckle, “it’s okay, minjeong. i’ll get through the day. at least team manager kim got us all coffee.”

despite your words, you find your eyelids fluttering close every second. maybe you should really take a nap. the events of the previous night had left you incredibly tired. breaking up with hyunjin was emotionally draining, whereas jimin… you rid the thoughts from your brain. it would serve you no good to be thinking about her right now. she was just a helpful woman who you repaid by sleeping with. at least it was enjoyable. you certainly enjoyed the feel of her warm body against yours. even before you start to reminisce, minjeong jolts upwards and exclaims, “time to go meet the ceo!”

the rest of the group follows suit, heading towards the lift. you wearily drag yourself to follow along, an arm looped through minjeong for support.

“y’all think she’ll be pretty?” a voice rings out from the crowd.

“aren’t most ceos like forty years old?”

“women don’t expire past the age of forty, mark,” you retort. mark only smirks, “maybe she’ll be a hot cougar.”

you roll your eyes at his words, yet you can’t help but imagine what the new ceo would be like. would she be intimidating? confrontational? you just hope she won’t be unreasonable. god knows you need a break from this absurd company. the only good thing about it was its pay and the people you work with.

“quiet down everyone,” gaeul says, “she’s coming soon, please be on your best behaviour.” she shoots a look at the rowdy group of guys nearer to the back. you try to inch closer to the front, the denial of your curiosity itching at you. despite your tired state, there was still some interest in the next ceo. “there she is!” minjeong whispers loudly.

your head flies to look up, mouth agape as your eyes bore into the woman’s frame. under the exquisite fabric draped over her, you could still sense her elegance. the way her steps echoed against the tiles, commanding everyone’s attention. your heart drops at the familiarity.

oh.

oh no.

below her bright red, glossy lips, resides a beauty mark.

you remember your own lips moulding against hers from the night before. the feel of her burning skin on top of your equally desperate body. her lingering touches, fingers tracing down from your collarbone.

“she’s pretty,” minjeong blurts out. you nod.

she was a goddess, aphrodite incarnated. you distinctively recall how sweet her words were, how her voice toned down to a husky drawl, whispering the things she would do to you. a shiver runs down your body, you clench your fists. how were you getting riled up over a memory?

your eyes follow her as she turns to face everyone. her face remains impassive as she addresses the crowd, “i am your ceo, karina.” cold, narrow eyes flick through the gathering, eventually meeting yours. if anyone else had looked closer, they would have noticed the shock in the way her eyes widen ever so slightly. yet, she swiftly regains herself.

“please do carry on as usual,” she says, you can’t believe she’s the same person as the jimin from last night, “i will be conducting a meeting later. do not be late.”

as her footsteps recede, you let out an exhale of breath. having her eyes on you made it hard to breathe, she literally took your breath away. minjeong eyes you curiously, but the crowd quickly disperses, sensing that karina was not to be messed with. they would rather get back to their jobs than deal with an angry ceo.

after heading back up, you finally sit down on your office chair, finding it more comfortable than usual. normally, it felt like it was forcing your spine in the most unnatural way. yet, after that interaction with jimin, you found solace in it.

“guys! ceo wants everyone in the meeting room now!” gaeul’s head pops out from the room, hurriedly gesturing for everyone to come. you reluctantly rise and walk to the room slowly. jimin’s already standing inside, a stony look on her face as she analyses a file of papers, presumably reports.

once everyone had entered and were settled down, jimin places the file back on the table, eyes roaming around as she says, “this company will collapse within a year’s time if i did not take the offer to buy it. hence, starting from now, there will be extreme changes.”

you take a gulp.

“first of all, we have to start investing more of our time into doing trade and business with others. isolating ourselves and believing that we can become successful without the help of others is idiotic,” jimin explains, “we should take the initiative and with someone like me at the helm, this company will flourish.” she hands out an assortment of papers around the room.

“this will tell you everything you need to know about your duties as an employee of this company. do take the time to read through thoroughly. i assure you with such a strategy, no one will need to work more than they have to.”

you can see some impressive looks from your colleagues. jimin was definitely a strong ceo, you already knew from how well-connected she was. yet, this would be your first time seeing her work ethic in action.

“everyone is dismissed. however,” jimin turns back around, eyes gleaming with mirth, “seo y/n, i want to meet you in my office.”

every inch of you freezes up. you sense some curiosity lingering around your colleagues, especially minjeong who offers a comforting pat on your shoulder. jimin’s lips form a devilish smile, akin to the one you saw previously. you sigh, already regretting all life choices thus far.

the door closes shut behind you. jimin sits down in her luxurious and pristine office chair. you kind of envy her.

a moment of silence passes before jimin speaks, “i did not expect to see you here.”

“neither did i,” you answer back. her appearance was a shock.

she chuckles slowly, “after leaving me in bed alone, with no note or anything, should i fire you?”

your eyes widen. what the hell? wasn’t this an abuse of authority? she couldn’t fire you that easily, right? over something that wasn’t even related to your job!

“you seem to not be able to finish your job, seo y/n,” jimin spins a fountain pen between her fingers. your gaze darts from the swirling pen to her face. indifferent, yet a hint of amusement.

“i assure you i am a hard worker and the night before is not related to my work ethic,” you reply.

jimin laughs, “do you not know how upset i was when i did not feel a body next to me? my sheets tidied up neatly, clothes gone and not a single hint of you left behind.”

“last night was a one-time thing,” you state firmly, “it will not happen again as i intend it to.”

the ceo’s eyes rake down your body, seemingly turning into satisfaction as she smiles, “you do not intend for it to happen again?”

“i… thank you for saving and helping me with my ex-boyfriend, but you’re my boss now and it’s probably a workplace violation.”

“so it is not because you do not want to, more so you feel that you are not allowed to,” jimin bluntly says. she’s right. you would like to indulge in the pleasure she provides once more, and continuously, but she’s your boss.

your silence speaks of your answer.

“it is unexpected that we have met under these circumstances. i won’t lie and say that i’m fine with forgetting about the night we spent together. huh. i wanted a date… yet, if you insist…”

jimin stands up from her desk, staring at the city skyline. you stare at her hooded eyes in the reflection of the window panel.

“you may leave,” she smiles, “but do call me karina and not jimin in front of others. they do not know my real name.”

you nod, unsure how to reply. were you meant to feel special that she had so willingly spared her real name to you? with others not privy of her name, you were the only one. jimin closes the door firmly behind you. you’re greeted by the sight of an anxious minjeong and a smirking mark lee.

“what did she say to you? and how did she know your name already?” minjeong asks hastily.

“just talking ‘bout work,” you answer smoothly, “we have a mutual friend.”

mark, bless him, adds on, “she’s prettier up close, right?”

“yeah,” you reply, cheeks reddening. you were well acquainted with her beauty by now, finding yourself momentarily starstruck.

“must be nice having the ceo know you,” minjeong says, sighing. you smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. was it really a blessing?

no, of course it wasn’t. you slept with your boss. unintentionally, in fact. you head back to your desk, hands almost ripping out your hair as you gaze at the closed door.

what have you gotten yourself into now?

you’re annoyed. irritated. angered. all because of your ceo. jimin doesn’t do anything outlandish, no. but she throws a mountain of work onto you. and only you. her previous promise of no one having to work more than they need to is out the window. you can only scoff, ashamed that you truly believed she would let you leave by five. however, it seems that jimin is rather petty. every time you snap back with a remark, she just smiles and places one more report on your desk a few minutes later. it’s maddening. was she not abusing her power?

the stack of papers on your desk feels never ending. compared to your colleagues, it’s clearly taller. even minjeong had commented about it. if the sudden increase of workload wasn’t enough, jimin also demanded you to do the most trivial things, such as fetching her coffee, shredding papers… did she not have enough money to afford a personal assistant? you were just an employee to the company. after bringing up your concerns to gaeul, the team manager merely shrugged, saying she could not do anything against the ceo. and it wasn’t as if jimin was outright abusing you. she was so clearly just messing with you!

(“you’re joking,” you gape at the pile of paperwork jimin was carrying to your table.

“how is this a joke to you?” jimin asks, a stern look on her face, but the small grin she wore betrayed her facade.)

this wasn’t any different from your life before the new ceo came. honestly, it might be worse. you had more work than ever, overtime was becoming a necessity in your life, and jimin just gets to prance around. you seriously had to take the initiative to discuss this, because what on earth.

finally deciding you had enough of jimin’s antics, you stand up from your desk, leaving the heaps of papers undone. determined, you take long strides, arriving at the door of jimin’s office. some of your colleagues eye you weirdly but they don’t make a sound. you just ignore them. not even knocking, you open the door. if jimin notices your presence, she doesn’t show it. her face is buried in a file, eyes darting from the report to the computer screen. you swallow, drawing courage from every fibre of your being.

“i need to talk to you.”

jimin’s head shoots up, an eyebrow raised. her bangs are parted today, no longer hovering over her eyes. the first few buttons of her black blouse are unbuttoned, revealing her carved collarbones. a pair of thick, black framed glasses rest on her sharp nose.

“about?”

“you’re messing with me,” you state.

the ceo stares. she looks rather dishevelled today, you wonder why.

“interesting. how did you come to that conclusion?” she asks, placing the file back onto her desk, her eyes fully focused on you now. trying to not get hypnotised by her forceful peering, you voice out, “you’ve been giving me more work than others. you always find some excuse to make me do stuff. i’ve worked here for three years and you’re making me an errand girl.”

it’s true. it feels like she’s just giving you filler work to do. there hasn’t been any improvement at all.

“i… i thought you would be different,” you admit, “different from our previous ceo. but it feels like nothing has changed. i’m still working overtime with no end in sight and it feels even worse than before.”

jimin doesn’t say a word. it’s the first time you’re saying this to anyone, your true feelings. jimin had made such big promises at the first meeting but after two months, there really wasn’t any change.

“i give you more work because you’re more capable,” jimin explains, a grim look on her face.

“that doesn’t excuse the fact you literally demand me to run around and make you coffee.”

“i can’t deny, that was for my personal amusement.”

your anger flares up, “see! you’re messing with me!”

“your reaction is funny,” she reasons weakly, “it’s really… i didn’t know it was taking a toll on you. i just wanted to see you get annoyed. you look cute when you’re grumpy.”

the previous frustration simmers down completely at her words. cute? was it appropriate for your boss to be saying this?

“what?”

jimin looks away shyly, a stark contrast to her intimidating facade, “i’ll try to restrain myself from now on… but i would like to talk to you about something as well.”

your curiosity is piqued. jimin’s face turns dark, her eyes narrowing as she asks, “are you and mark in a relationship?”

a gasp escapes your lips, because what the fuck?

“no, ew,” you instantly say, “mark acts like a kid.”

“so you have no romantic feelings for him?” jimin repeats.

“no, none at all.” somehow, you know why she’s even asking in the first place.

jimin frowns, “so why were you touching his face that day?”

you remember it vividly. mark was showing you the netflix movie, ‘365 days’ and stating that you could recreate it with jimin. he was joking with you, but you still got flustered. minjeong had been laughing so loudly it attracted the ceo to come into the break room. she has witnessed your hands grabbing mark’s collar, in the midst of threatening him.

“he was just saying something weird,” you mumble, not exactly willing to tell jimin she was the cause. the ceo nods. you can’t help but like this jimin slightly more than the brooding one. she seems more vulnerable today. more gentle and soft.

“okay,” jimin smiles, wider than usual, “you can leave now.”

you bow, slightly happier that the ceo was understanding of your concerns. maybe now you would get home on time, not that you had anyone waiting for you though. after your break up with hyunjin, you had increasingly found more alone time. sometimes you would spend the night with yizhuo, cooking dinner together. most times you would reach home and immediately fall asleep.

content with the meeting, you leave her office, bouncing back to your desk. the stack of papers feel considerably lighter knowing her true reasoning behind piling so much workload on you. perhaps she had more faith and trust in you. that made you feel proud.

a head peeks out above the partition.

“what did the boss talk to you about?” minjeong asks. you wave a hand at her, brushing her words off, “nothing really. karina was just telling me stuff about my job, giving comments, y’know.”

minjeong nods and ducks her head, returning to her work. you do the same, the weight previously resting on your shoulders significantly lighter. the day doesn’t seem so gloomy anymore.

you carry on typing with a small smile. unbeknownst to you, a pair of eyes gaze through the blinds.

jimin stays true to her word. despite the heavier workload, your heart feels lighter that she acknowledged your ability. it doesn’t bother you anymore that minjeong and the rest of your colleagues can leave instantly while you stay for a bit longer to refine some finer details. deeply engrossed, you don’t notice the sudden pattering of raindrops splashing against the windows. and you definitely don’t notice the light in jimin’s office still on.

stretching your arms, you yawn, intending to go home. yet, the moment you start packing your bag, realisation strikes you that it was raining. raining heavily. as you try to decide your next move, the door to jimin’s office opens.

her head peeks out, a frown on her face as she calls out, “why are you still here?”

“i was doing something and i just lost track of time,” you explain. jimin’s head tilts. you internally coo at the similarity of her to a puppy.

she takes one look outside and asks, “how are you going to get home? don’t you take the bus?”

you scrunch your nose, trying to think of a way to return home without being caught in the rain but with no avail.

“no idea,” you shrug, “i might call my friend to pick me up or something. not sure if she’s busy though.”

jimin takes long strides towards you, “i can drive you home.”

your eyes widen considerably, “no, it’s really okay!” you don’t know what you would do enclosed in a small space with her without other people around. she looks extra delectable today as well. usually, her hair is neat and proper, but today it’s slightly messy and her bangs are swept to the side, exposing her forehead. she still wears the pair of attractive black glasses and she’s adorning a navy pantsuit today.

“as your boss,” jimin smiles, “i need to ensure that all my employees are cared for. i can’t have you coming to work sick, can i?” you can’t really fight her logic there. it makes sense, she wouldn’t want you to get sick because she would lose manpower. yet, the explanation digs a hole in your heart.

she’s your boss.

you glance at the rain splattering.

“okay. take me home.”

jimin’s smile widens. you walk together in silence to the elevator. only the soft humming of her voice fills in the gaps. the silence stretches on till you reach her car as well. it’s only when you try to enter the backseat, jimin says, “what are you doing? come sit here.” she pats the passenger seat. you follow her instructions like a dog with its owner.

as the ceo starts up the car, you notice small details of it. it’s clearly expensive, no doubt. the sleek leather you were sitting on just speaks for itself. jimin had an air freshener hanging from the mirror, the strangest thing was that it was a dinosaur smelling of vanilla. she had a small shiro, the dog from shin-chan, figurine posed on the dashboard. you quietly giggle at the cuteness of it all. jimin having adorable items accessorising her car was such a stark contrast to her distant and cold persona as your boss.

“that’s cute,” you point out. jimin glances at what you’re pointing at and her cheeks redden, “ah. do you like shin-chan too?”

“uh,” you blank out, “i guess so? i like boo.”

jimin beams.

“that’s amazing,” she says with all the sincerity in the world, “let’s watch shin-chan together someday.”

it’s a strange proposal, no doubt. but you find yourself nodding too soon. the grin you receive from jimin is well worth it though.

“you can key in your address here,” she hands you her phone. as you type, jimin continues talking, “i broke off my deal with hwang by the way. has he contacted you at all?”

you shake your head, “no, but his sister has been texting me. apparently he’s very disoriented and is always drunk. he got into a scandal recently for starting a fight at another bar.”

jimin sighs, one of bemusement, “i truly wonder where such men get their audacity from.” you giggle at her words.

“honestly, hyunjin is childish and immature but he’s a good guy,” you confess, “i don’t know why he suddenly turned into someone like that.”

the ceo falls silent. you wonder if you said something wrong. maybe you offended her in some way. gulping, you distract yourself by watching the scenery of urbanised skyscrapers.

“you’re giving him too much credit,” jimin says, “he’s always been like that. he’s just a good actor.”

“really?”

jimin nods firmly, “of course. and did you really like him? or did you just like having him around?”

you debate on answering. wasn’t this too personal for someone’s boss to ask? your eyes swerve to watch jimin’s grip tighten on the steering wheel, her small hands showing white knuckles.

“there’s many things that are mistaken for another, such as liking someone and liking the idea of them.”

“what other things are you talking about?” you ask, genuinely curious.

the traffic light turns red. jimin presses on the brakes, a smirk plastered on her face as she turns to you.

“like finding someone good-looking and attractive. i know i’m good-looking, but am i attractive to you, y/n?” she leans forward, her face inches away from yours. your eyes unintentionally trail down to her lips before snapping shut and turning away.

“don’t leave me hanging,” you can hear the damn pout in her voice. a warm hand leaves a fleeting touch on your arm as she pulls you to look back at her again.

you resist the urge to throw yourself out of the car.

“the light’s green,” your voice comes out almost as if you were constipated.

jimin lets out a hearty laugh.

“we can settle this debate back at yours, don’t you think?” your hands clench by your side, neck strained to crane your head away from looking at the delectable woman.

“i don’t think that’s appropriate,” is what you end up saying. jimin shrugs. your eyes are drawn to the smooth expanse of her hands that rest against the steering wheel, and the way her knuckles unintentionally flex when turning.

“we’re far past appropriation,” she states, amused.

shrugging, you stare at the outside scenery instead, ensuring that you wouldn’t be salivating at the sight of your boss.

jimin hums to the music playing in her car. you roughly recognise it as a song from the pokemon anime ost. somehow, it’s totally believable that this domineering boss could also have a silly and endearing side to her. it was yu jimin after all.

“what are you thinking so hard about?”

you.

“work.”

“what about it? is the workload too heavy for you?” the concern in her voice makes you want to puke.

you shake your head.

“i’m just thinking… about that day,” you decide to answer truthfully.

jimin tilts her head, “what day?”

“you know…” it comes out in a hushed and embarrassed whisper, “that day.”

either jimin’s stupid or she’s just playing dumb. she stares at you, confused. you make some inappropriate gestures with your fingers, until she lights up in recognition.

“that day?” she repeats teasingly.

it’s not like you can ask her for a repeat of that day. you had literally stated outright that it was a one-time thing. she was your boss, for god’s sake. if you slept with her again, you would be breaking all sorts of violations.

“…it was nice…” your cheeks redden, “that’s all.”

the smirk on jimin’s face is unbearable. thank god you’re not the one driving, or you would have gotten a heart attack.

“want to do it again?”

your face gets undeniably hotter. redness flushes through your entire body as you cower.

there’s a moment of decision-making.

was it worth the risk to try again with jimin? for some reason, you know you’re past the phase of attraction. it’s pure interest for her now. you’re not sure if your heart’s fully beyond lust, but there’s something lingering that feels akin to adoration. there’s no doubt that you find jimin extremely good-looking, but like she said before, there was a difference. it’s unfortunate you’re attracted to her as well. maybe she already knew your answer, that’s why she didn’t push for you to reply.

(it would be a resounding yes.)

but jimin was still your boss. what if people in the company found out? they technically couldn’t do anything since jimin was already in the highest position, but if you had to suffer questioning looks and backhanded remarks from them, about how you achieved this job by sleeping around, it would break your heart.

and you don’t want a repeat of hyunjin. you don’t know if you’re ready for another relationship. at least now you’re aware you can actually feel things for others and you’re not some emotionless robot.

but something about jimin pulls you towards her. like two opposite poles of a magnet. there’s something so endearing yet mysterious about the girl that makes you want to try.

“we’re here already, i think my friend lives nearby here,” jimin says as she looks around. she’s parked along the road, your apartment just a few metres away.

you gulp, murmuring softly, “jimin.”

the ceo turns to you, like a little cat.

“can we try dating?”

jimin’s eyebrows shoot upwards, shock evident on her face. after all, you had rejected her not long ago.

“really?” she can barely contain her excitement.

“uh, yeah,” you’re a little uncomfortable with the way she’s staring at you so intensely.

happiness was coursing through her veins. jimin had never expected you would end up giving in. she had a whole plan in her head— first, get you riled up and then convince you to sleep with her again. her second phase consisted of insanely good aftercare that would definitely draw you in into her amazing personality. the last phase was just playing hard to get and making sure you wanted her badly. it seems like she skipped most of the steps. whatever, it doesn’t matter since she got the same end result.

“okay!” jimin beams.

you stare at her stunned.

“uh, so we’re dating now, right?” you repeat.

“mhm!”

her compliance makes you want to jump on her.

“let’s set some boundaries first, okay?”

jimin ponders for a bit before stating confidently, “i have no boundaries! you can do whatever you want.”

it’s a little riveting having her agree with whatever you say. her natural submission is jarring. you laugh, “that’s okay, but i have some rules.”

“go ahead!” jimin’s gazing at you, her eyes wide and rapt with attention. you hold out your hand, pointing at each individual finger, “one, no pda in the office, i don’t want to give people an opportunity to gossip.”

she nods. it would be hard to continue dating if people kept invading your privacy.

“two, we have to keep this a secret,” you continue, “and three, we’re not official yet okay? just dating for now. let’s take it slow.”

“mhm sure.”

“four, don’t call me any nicknames in the office, i’m just seo y/n and you’re karina.”

jimin smirks lazily, her hand resting against the wheel, “you’ll be yu y/n soon.”

“jimin,” you groan at her sleaziness.

“go on!”

you list off the final rule, “five, no special treatment just cause we’re dating. i don’t want people to think i’m getting more opportunities to do well just because we’re dating.”

the ceo blinks.

“okay.”

“okay?”

she hums, content, “yeah. i’m fine with all that.”

you breathe out shakily, “that’s good.”

“mhm. you should get going now,” jimin smiles, “it’s late.”

“right, okay. uh, see you tomorrow?”

the ceo tilts her head, a wide grin on her face, “see you tomorrow, baby.”

your face flushes red.

“jimin.”

“we’re not in the office!”

dating jimin is wonderful. she’s the sweetest and most caring girl on earth. everytime she does something even remotely romantic, you’re swept off your feet. despite your insistence to take it slow, you had only resisted at the start. now, after weeks of dating, you succumbed to jimin’s puppy eyes and begging.

wrapped in her embrace, you snuggle into the crook of her neck even deeper, breathing in her cologne.

jimin only tightens her arms. if it wasn’t for the fact that it was extremely comfortable, you would have complained that she was strangling you.

“baby,” she whispers, planting haste pecks all over your face.

that had been a recurring thing. you realised soon after the first week, jimin loved calling you baby. sometimes you wondered if she forgot your name and called you baby to hide it. the girl, obviously, denied it.

“hm?” your voice comes out muffled.

“you look really cute like this.”

you couldn’t disagree more. adorned in an old oversized sweatshirt that was literally disintegrating by the second, messy bed hair after the nap you had just taken, and a bare face that probably had drool all over.

meanwhile, jimin’s wearing a calvin klein hoodie with little boy shorts that exposed her bare legs. your own legs fitted nicely against hers, tangling your bodies together on the couch.

“i won’t get to see you tomorrow,” jimin says out of the blue.

“why? do you have something going on?”

the ceo groans heartily, “my friends want to have dinner together.”

this puts a frown on your face. originally, you had planned a cute little date for the two of you.

jimin, observant of your turmoil, only runs her fingers through your hair comfortingly, “i know, baby. but we don’t always get this chance. and it’s just dinner! just this once.”

you nod your head, burrowing further into her embrace. jimin only sighs happily, her hand trailing down from your head to your back, rubbing circles repeatedly.

“what are you wearing then?”

“maybe that dress that you really liked? or maybe a random pantsuit.”

you know which dress she’s talking about. an ivory coloured, strapless dress that accentuates her collarbones nicely.

“wear the pantsuit.” something about other people being able to see jimin in that dress doesn’t sit right with you.

a chuckle escapes her, “didn’t you say you liked the dress?”

shrugging, you reply nonchalantly, “don’t want anyone else seeing you in it.”

silence. then a high-pitched squeal.

“y/nnie, you’re so cute!” your head is dramatically pulled back from jimin’s neck and you come face-to-face with the ceo, who’s cooing at you incessantly. she plants multiple pecks all over your face whilst squeezing your jaw tightly.

“jimin!”

the girl finally pulls away from covering your face with kisses, but if it weren’t for her bright red lipstick, she would have seen how underneath all her kiss marks, your face was splashed with maroon.

“if you come with me, then can i wear that dress? i really want to wear it,” jimin pleads.

it's a fair deal in your opinion. you could spend time with her and being able to see jimin in that dress was just a plus. it just leaves the problem of jimin’s wandering hands. even in your office, her hands seem to have a mind of their own, constantly roaming around places they shouldn’t be. like how when you were brewing coffee one morning, jimin had snuck up behind and rested her hands on your waist, whispering a quiet greeting. thank goodness no one else was in the lounge. that surely would have started endless amounts of rumours.

“but we can’t kiss or hug there okay?” you reply, deciding to make a trade-off.

jimin pouts, but she ends up huffing and then nodding.

“just stay by my side. i’ll restrain myself.”

well, that turned out to be a lie.

despite her previous promise of keeping her hands to herself, they somehow ended up entangled in your own. one of her hands lingers between your shoulder blades, and in the car ride to the restaurant, it trailed down to the small of your back. you had scolded jimin for that.

even now, jimin still ensured she was somehow touching you. the restaurant was extremely high-end, evident from the menu which didn’t even have prices on them! you had gone through culture shock with that.

the table was surrounded with people you assumed held equally sophisticated titles, some of them stared at you with curiosity, probably wondering why a newcomer had arrived.

there were a few empty seats, but jimin had informed you that some maybe couldn’t make it, as always.

“so,” one of the extremely gorgeous women had cleared her throat, “are you going to introduce the lovely woman you’ve brought with you, karina?”

jimin smiles as her hand comes to lie on your arm, where your elbow is.

“this is y/n, she’s my colleague,” jimin says, a practised answer. you try to muster up a smile.

“i’m giselle, or aeri, nice to meet you, y/n,” the woman drawls, her tone full of mischief and she had that twinkle in her eyes that reminded you of jimin when she’s about to tickle you.

“how has ceo life been treating you? we haven’t heard from you much,” another woman asks. you notice how cat-like this woman looks. she had beady eyes that were laser-focused on jimin. there’s a chorus of agreement from the rest.

the ceo laughs, “it’s good. i’ve gotten to experience many things. what about the park group that you’ve visited, ryujin? are they still doing well?”

as the now named woman, ryujin, goes into a tirade about the park group, you take the opportunity to identify everyone. most of them were dressed to the nines, their hair all prim and proper, and not a speck of dust on their clothes. just from a quick scale, you could tell they were all extremely wealthy. you listen to ryujin speak while digging into the sirloin steak jimin had ordered for you.

“—and i actually met someone new recently, she should be arriving soon with her brother,” ryujin exclaims. the group chatters excitedly about her newest paramour, while jimin explains that ryujin had gone a few years without a relationship, hence the enthusiasm.

right as you nod, the door to the private room opens and two extremely familiar figures stride in and take their seats.

fuck. you think, unable to control the way your eyes widen. jimin shares the same feeling seemingly, with how she stiffens and a huff escapes her.

“this is hwang yeji and her brother hyunjin,” ryujin beams proudly, unaware of the tension surrounding the table.

“seo y/n?”

your eyes dart downwards, unwilling to face hyunjin. yeji only gasps, “what? oh my gosh, y/n!”

you grit your teeth as hyunjin laughs loudly, “what are you doing here?”

jimin’s hand slithers down to yours, encasing it in a tight but comforting grasp.

ryujin’s head goes back and forth and the table’s filled with surprised chatter and questions.

“how do you guys know each other?”

hyunjin beats you by answering, “she’s my girlfriend.”

what?

you wince a little at how jimin only grips you even more firmly.

“you are?” ryujin exclaims. yeji sends you a sympathetic look, but before she even says anything, aeri interrupts.

“are you a two-timer?” she accuses, eyes blazing with fury, “aren’t you dating jimin?”

your head snaps towards jimin.

“uhm—” she splutters out, “i— okay! it just slipped out and i told aeri to play pretend!”

“what?! you’re dating her?” hyunjin suddenly barks. you groan, wondering why you even got involved with these people. they were all insane!

“wait, so who are you actually dating?” ryujin finally asks. you sigh, “i’m dating jimin.”

a scoff escapes hyunjin.

“you’re actually with her? i can’t believe you jumped into bed with someone else right after we broke up! i knew you were a slut from the beginning.”

a chorus of gasps echo from the table. you should feel saddened that someone you cared for previously was throwing insults at you, but you don’t feel anything. yet, the same couldn’t be said for jimin, who rises up from her seat abruptly, and tosses her glass of champagne at hyunjin.

“don’t talk about her like that.”

“are you fucking serious?!”

“shut the fuck up,” jimin seethes, “and don’t let me hear you utter her name from that filthy mouth of yours ever again.”

hyunjin’s hair down to his tailored suit, drenched in expensive champagne that is probably worth more than your apartment. you watch as his face turns an angry red, and you can almost see the steam coming out from his ears. his mouth opens to retort but he can only gape furiously.

“you’re pathetic and i pity the people that have to be in your company. you forget yourself. don’t you dare come into my sight. my eyes aren’t adjusted to the filth that you are.”

hyunjin stands up from his chair but yeji pulls him back down harshly.

“i can’t believe my girlfriend saw anything but a deplorable man in you.”

you’re left jaw-dropped. jimin grits her teeth before tossing you a look, “c’mon y/n, let’s go.”

she pulls you out of your chair and as you leave, you turn back, sending an apologetic look to the others at the table. aeri only guffaws and ryujin yells, “you didn’t pay for the food!”

jimin’s hand doesn’t leave yours, and you’re a little shocked at how quickly and agile she moves even in heels. your heart’s beating a mile, both from surprise and the adrenaline coursing through your veins. when you reach the car, jimin slams the door shut and she deflates in her seat.

“oh my god,” she says.

“oh my god indeed,” you parrot, still in awe of jimin’s reaction. it was crazy, but you can’t lie, it was attractive having her stand up for you like that.

she turns to you, “i can’t believe i just did that.”

“yeah, me neither,” you laugh, “this is the second time you’ve called him pathetic.”

jimin pouts, so unlike the girl from before, “he just made me really mad! holy shit, aeri’s blowing up my phone.”

you’re reminded of something that aeri slipped out.

“jimin,” you place a hand on her arm as she checks the messages, “so you told aeri about us?”

the ceo turns to you, eyes glistening and her lips pursed out cutely, obviously as an attempt to cull your anger, “i really didn’t mean to! please believe me baby. she just asked me why i was so happy recently and then asked if i was seeing someone and you know i can’t lie to aeri… so i told her about you and—”

“hey, calm down,” you chuckle at the way jimin’s turning red from how quickly she rambled. she catches her breath as her chest heaves, “i’m sorry. i know i broke the rule.”

“it’s okay, jimin. i’m not mad,” you reassure.

jimin’s eyes perk up, “really?”

“yeah, it’s fine. i think it’s really sweet that you stood up for me today.”

“i’ll always stand up for you, you know that right? don’t you remember my promise of helping you whenever?” jimin says earnestly. you smile at her cuteness and sincerity.

you don’t know what this feeling is. the chasing thrill every time jimin’s hands are on yours. the gleamy look in her eyes. the curve of her crooked smile. but it feels similar to love.

“jimin-ah,” you mumble. it’s the most unromantic place and time ever— jimin’s car, parked next to a gloomy lamppost, right after she had just poured champagne on your ex.

but because it’s with jimin, it feels perfect.

you can’t believe you ever thought of rejecting the girl prior.

“yes?”

“i really really like you,” you tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. it’s a shame jimin’s dress couldn’t be properly admired today with all the ruckus. but that’s fine, you had plenty of opportunities to do so in the future.

“i really really like you too,” jimin whispers, as if it’s a secret.

you grin, “you looked really attractive just now. i think you’re god’s gift to earth.”

“mhm. you’re perfect too,” she sighs dreamily, “i really don’t mind giving you my everything.”

it sounds like a confession of love. maybe it’s jimin’s own way, but you both know it’s too early, even if the feeling rivals the purest form of affection and adoration.

“i liked it when you called me your girlfriend,” you admit. jimin beams, “so can i call you my girlfriend? can i be yours?”

you nod shyly at how jimin phrases the question. it’s not whether you’re hers, it’s whether she’s yours. and it’s a barely noticeable difference, but it only makes your heart pound more rapidly against your ribcage.

minjeong likes her job. it’s easygoing and the pay’s good. her colleagues are all really nice too. it’s an enjoyable job. she especially enjoys the company of her sunbae from high school. but recently, despite minjeong’s annoyance, her senior has been spending more and more time in the ceo’s office, and not at her desk. the usual conversations between them had gone so quickly and minjeong missed her sunbae’s presence.

she wonders if the ceo is holding you hostage. she’s seen the mountain of papers on your desk before, but she chalked it up to you just being an overachiever.

“minjeong,” her head lifts up, it’s mark lee and team manager kim gesturing at her to come over. their behaviour is strange, minjeong immediately notices, huddled in a corner of the lounge and whispering conspiratorially.

“what’s up? is something wrong?”

manager kim shakes her head and instead asks the damning question of, “do you think y/n and our boss are hooking up?”

what!

“uhm,” minjeong mumbles, “i don’t know?”

mark only nudges minjeong’s shoulder, “wait till y/n comes out of karina’s office and just look at her neck. she might have a few hickies.”

minjeong doesn’t think so, but she agrees to be their lookout and she waits patiently for you to come out. once the door swings open, minjeong catches a glance of karina adjusting her blazer and your hands pulling at the collar of your blouse.

huh. that’s strange.

she trods over to you, a faux smile on her face as she says, “are you in trouble again? you’re always in karina’s office!”

minjeong watches as your eyes widen and you clear your throat, “y-yeah… we were talking about a report… i made a few mistakes.”

her own eyes trail from your face to your poorly hidden neck, where a few bruises reside.

suddenly, everything clicks into place. the frazzled look you always had, the way karina would come out all messy— and the hickies!

minjeong can’t control the words that come out next.

“oh my god— you’re fucking the boss?!”

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else. 

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places. 

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize. 

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.  

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in. 

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to. 

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much  to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods. 

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own. 

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly,  and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things - 

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s? 

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous? 

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions. 

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself. 

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic. 

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side. 

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?” 

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary. 

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know? 

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.” 

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or  they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.” 

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?” 

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?” 

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.” 

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad. 

 “I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper. 

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew. 

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?” 

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face. 

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?” 

[helen-with-an-a]

I am an adult pt 6

Hiiiii. I just wanna say thank you so much for everyone's support and love while writing this series - it means so much to me. This part was very easy to write but also emotionally draining ahahaha. Ik I did a poll and a lot of people said they wanted 1 really long fic, but I've split it into 2 halves instead cos it was so long! Also a massive shout out to @lyak12 who helped me a lot with the plot and hyped me up- forehead smooches for u. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Barça Femeni x reader / Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: R faces the consequences of her actions

TW: It's very emotional and hints of R's bad mental health

Word Count: 6.6k

You genuinely had no idea how you ended up at the beach. One moment, you were in the changing rooms with your life falling apart around you – your shattered dreams and splintered relationships crashing to the ground. And then you were on a quiet bench near the sea wall, legs tucked under your chin as you sat silently, broken in so many ways.

The gentle breeze carried the tangy scent of saltwater, mingling with the faint aroma of sunscreen and something fried wafting from a nearby snack stand. The waves relentlessly lapping at the shore rhythmically, the repetitive sound a soothing melody to help you drift away in the stillness. Time seemed to blur as you stared out at the vast expanse of the sea, lost in the chaos that was your mind.

You didn’t need to look up when you felt a presence standing next to you. You felt the bench dip as they sat down, not bothering to speak. You stayed silent for a very long time. You had no idea how long you had been there – minutes, hours, perhaps even longer. But as the bright blue sky began to shift into a blaze of fiery oranges, soft pinks, and deep purples, you realised that it had been long enough for the day to give way to the dark blues of the evening. A lone tear trekked down your cheek; you didn’t bother wiping it away.

“They hate me,” you finally said. You heard your companion sigh quietly, a sound filled with empathy and understanding.

“They’re scared,” Esmee countered, her voice soft and soothing. You didn’t respond, the weight of your thoughts drowning out the gentle reassurances offered.

"I fucked up," you admitted after a few too many minutes, the rawness of your confession cutting through the silence. It was Esmee’s turn to be quiet, her expression a mixture of compassion and thoughtfulness.

“We all make mistakes,” she said after a beat, her words a gentle reminder. Well, that was the most Esmee response ever. You turned to look at her, the fading light casting shadows across her face.

“This was more than just a mistake.” you insisted, your voice sounding weak and far away.

“You were hurt. You needed comfort. Something that you couldn’t find in Barcelona.” Her words hung in the air between you.

“I hurt them,” you said resolutely.

“Yes, you did. But I don’t think you meant to.” You could always count on Esmee to offer the truth. Some people thought she sugar-coated things, but you always found that she just said things in a way that was honest yet kind.

You fell back into silence, both of you looking out to the horizon. You had no thoughts wandering across your mind. No voice in your head or niggling feelings. You were just numb. It could have been minutes or hours; you weren’t sure.

“C’mon. Let’s go.” Esmee encouraged, standing up and offering her hand.

“I, um,” you cleared your throat. “I don’t have my keys or anything.” You looked up at her with big, wide eyes.

“That’s ok,” she smiled.

The silence in the changing rooms was deafening, broken only by the sound of shallow breathing. No one dared move. The only noise was the door clicking softly shut behind you.

“Qué quiso decir? Por qué no le renuevan el contrato?” It was Martina who was brave enough to speak up. Bruna looked up from her intense stare at her boots. All of the younger girls' eyes fell on Alexia. She was their captain, and they needed her to navigate these choppy waters. Alexia blinked. No one had mentioned the possibility of the club not extending your contract. She knew you were able to go on a free at the end of this season, but she had assumed you would sign for Barça again, at least for a year or so. When she had seen those pictures of you in Germany, she thought something had looked a little off. Even through the pixels, you looked so … distant. You clearly did not look comfortable there. At first, she chalked it up to nerves about meeting your new teammates and guilt that you were caught in the act. But now … now she wasn’t so sure. There was a tightness to your face, your usually bright and animated eyes looked clouded, and a subtle sadness in your posture.

“N-no sé.” Alexia breathed, clearly dazed.

“Ella no puede irse.” Vicky insisted. You and Vicky had a unique bond, one that often drove the older girls insane with your misbehaviour.

“She doesn’t have a choice.” Kiera reminded her softly, bringing an arm up to comfort the youngster. “A club doesn’t have to offer anyone an extension if they don’t want to, for whatever reason. Y/N has to leave Barcelona if she wants to play football next season.” Keira had always been a voice of reason in the team; she always had an great understanding of the dynamics at play both on and off the pitch.

“Pero … por qué?” Vicky looked around.

“I’m not sure,” Keira answered honestly.

“Ella no se está transfiriendo?”

“Not willingly,” Keira smiled weakly.

It wasn’t until you stepped through Esmee’s front door that you realised you'd never actually been to her place before. You weren’t the best of friends; she usually hung out with Aitana, Ingrid, and Frido – the quieter girls on the team, quite the contrast to the lively bunch you, Cata, Pina, and Ona could be. Her flat was distinctly Esmee: neat and tidy but with a warm, inviting atmosphere. The shelves were littered with pictures of friends and family, and the walls were filled with colourful art. Her couch looked cosy, with a soft green throw draped artistically over the back. “Do you want some tea?” she asked kindly, smiling as she gestured to the kitchen. You returned her smile with a soft nod. Why was she being so nice to you? You had been a raging arsehole and deserved nothing but the harsh words Lucy had hurled your way.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I told the others you’re with me,” she said apologetically, handing you a steaming mug. You nodded again, your heart sinking a little. “They aren’t going to come round, at least not tonight.” Was Esmee a mind reader? How else would she know you were anxious about them coming over?

“How did you find me?” You asked sometime later. It had stumbled across your mind when she first appeared next to you.

“You mentioned that you like to go to the beach to think.” Have you mentioned that? “After training, I drove along the front until I saw you.”

You stared into your refilled mug; the steam curled upwards and danced in front of you. “I didn’t know you knew that,” you murmured. “I didn’t think anyone knew that.” It was true; you don’t think you had ever mentioned the long walks along the beach you liked to take in the early hours when you couldn’t sleep. The fresh air helped clear your mind, the movement of your body helped to get the blood flowing again, and the peaceful nature helped soothe your soul.

Esmee shrugged, a gentle smile on her lips. “I notice people.” Her words hung in the air between you, warm and comforting like the tea you held. You glanced up at her, feeling a flicker in your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered sincerely. She nodded back at you, settling back against the sofa, sipping on her own mug.

Ona was conflicted. On one hand, she was immensely relieved that you were safe. You weren’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere or injured and in a coma, unable to identify yourself to anyone. The scenarios that had been playing in her mind for days were far worse than the reality. She had been losing sleep, haunted by the fear that something terrible had happened to you. Knowing you were okay was a weight off her shoulders. But on the other hand, a heavy sense of betrayal gnawed at her. You hadn't trusted her enough to tell her anything. She thought about all the times you had confided in each other, sharing secrets and dreams and comforting each other during tough times. She was your best friend, the one who had always been there for you. And yet, you ran a thousand miles away without a word, without a hint of where you were going or why.

The hurt she felt was deep and raw. How could you not have trusted her with your plans? Why didn't you believe she would understand or help you through this? Her mind swirled with questions and doubts, each one cutting deeper than the last. She wanted to be happy that you were safe, but the sting of your secrecy made it hard to fully embrace that relief. The bond you shared felt strained, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of abandonment.

And now you had disappeared again. When she finally stepped foot on the pitch, she had thought you would have been there too, waiting for training to start. But you were nowhere to be found. Ona scanned the field, her eyes darting from one familiar face to another, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Her heart sank with each passing moment. The coach blew the whistle, signalling the start of practice, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't focus, the worry gnawing at her insides. It must have been one of the worst training sessions she had had in a long time.

She had broken one of Alexia’s steadfast rules – no phones at training. Ona checked her phone obsessively, hoping for a message or a missed call from you. Nothing. The knot in her stomach tightened. She wondered if something had happened again or if you had chosen to vanish this time without a trace, leaving everyone behind to worry and speculate. Her phone buzzed.

Esmee: I’ve found her. She’s safe. I’ll bring her back to mine when she’s ready. E

She could have cried. She was fairly sure she had. Relief washed over her, mingling with the painful ache of betrayal. At least you were safe, and that was the most important thing. As she stood there, clutching her phone, Ona resolved to be patient. She would give you the space you needed, but she would also be there, ready to listen, when you were finally ready to talk.

You woke up the next morning in just as much of a daze. It took you a moment to realise you were on Esmee’s couch, the unfamiliar surroundings disorienting you even further. You hadn’t slept well. You tossed and turned as much as possible on the small couch, the spare bedding Esmee gave you tucked up around your chin. When you did sleep, it wasn’t much better; the nightmares that your mind dreamed up made you even more tired than before.

The quiet chatter from the kitchen pulled you from your not-quite sleep. “That’s up to her to say, Mapí,” Esmee said softly. You could imagine her face, the small apologetic smile and pinched eyebrows.

“Pero... sólo quiero saber, por qué? Ella de dijo algo anoche?” Mapí implored further. Of course, Mapí would be grilling Esmee. You could see her arms moving around as she spoke.

“Min skjønnhet, stop bugging Esmee” Ingrid cut in. You could envisage Ingrid’s soft smile and gentle hand moving comfortingly across Mapí’s shoulders.

“No, mi corazón. Necesito saber por qué se fue del puto país en lugar de hablar con nosotras.” she all but shouted, a guilty look flashing across her face as she registered her volume.

“María.” You didn’t need to be in the room to see Ingrid’s unimpressed look.

“Mapí, I’m not going to betray her trust like that. I found her, I took her home, she stayed the night. Ask her yourself.” You had never heard Esmee sound so tough. Your heart swelled at the thought of her protecting you. Sitting up slowly, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and listened more intently.

Mapí sighed, the sound of a chair scraping back as she sat down. “Aunque estoy muy enojado con ella. No creo que pueda hablar con ella sin gritar.”

“I know,” Ingrid reassured her, her voice softer now but still firm.

You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to finally face them. The floor felt cool beneath your feet as you walked towards the kitchen, the soft murmurs of their conversation growing louder.  As you entered the kitchen, three pairs of eyes turned to you. For a moment, no one spoke. The air was thick with unspoken words and raw emotions. Mapí stood up, her movements hesitant. “Por qué te fuiste sin decir nada?” Her voice was trembling, and you could see the effort it took for her to keep her tone steady.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. “I...” you took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I just needed out,” you confessed.

“Y pensaste que desaparecer sin decir una palabra era la mejor manera de hacerlo.?” Mapí’s frustration was evident, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. You had no words. You had no reason, no excuse for your behaviour.

Ingrid stepped forward, her face a mask of disappointment. “Do you have any idea what you put us through? We were worried sick, thinking something terrible had happened to you.”

“No puedes simplemente huir de tus problemas y dejar que nosotros recogamos los pedazos.” Mapí added

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at each of them, their disappointment bearing down on you, crushing you. You had never felt so small, so utterly ashamed of yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the words barely audible through your tears. “I never meant to hurt any of you. I was just... overwhelmed. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“We understand that you were struggling, but that doesn’t excuse what you did. We’re your friends, and we deserve better than to be left in the dark like that.” Ingrid sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We care about you, but you need to understand that your actions have consequences. You can’t just expect us to forgive and forget.”

“I don’t expect you to.” You refused to meet her eyes, gaze fixed firmly on the tabletop. “I really am sorry,” you whispered out, blinking rapidly to try to stop the tears. Feeling the weight of their words settling heavily on your shoulders, you knew you had a long road ahead of you, one filled with apologies and making amends.

Alexia couldn’t allow herself to feel all the emotions she was feeling. She had to be the strong one, for the team, the one who held everyone together when everything seemed to be falling apart. But deep down, behind the facade of strength she presented to the world, she was crumbling. Fear, anger, and grief churned inside her, threatening to consume her whole. She wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at the unfairness of it all. But she couldn’t. She had to keep it together ... for the sake of those who depended on her.

Her training was one of the best she had ever done. She focused solely on the ball at her feet. Her passes were stronger, her shoots were faster, her tackles harsher. Each movement was driven by a mix of determination and frustration. Yet, no matter how much she threw herself into her sport, the ache in her heart remained. The weight of your absence hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the betrayal she felt. You had received some terrible news. News that had blindsided you into fleeing the country. And you hadn’t confided in her. That was what made her the most … angry wasn’t the right word. Sure, she was so incredibly angry with you for running away. Even when you had all the legal trouble last year, she had never been this angry with you. But now that anger mixed with pain. You had begged her, pleaded with her to treat you more like an adult. And the first thing you had done when times had gotten tough you had acted like a child. Rather than asking for help, reaching out to those around you … those who loved you like family … you had fled. No word, no explanation, no nothing. You left. You left the team. You left her.

As she sat in the solitude of her car, the weight of your actions bore down on her like a heavy burden. The betrayal cut deep, slicing through the layers of friendship and trust she had built with you over the years. She wanted to understand, to offer you comfort and support in your time of need. But the hurt ran too deep, leaving behind a bitter taste of resentment and disappointment. How could you have kept such a monumental thing from her? Had she made you think you couldn’t come to her? Why? Why? Why? The questions swirled in her mind, unanswered and unresolved, adding to the confusion already in her heart.

Esmee graciously drove you back to the training ground to retrieve your belongings. Grateful that it was only an afternoon session, you silently thanked the heavens for the deserted car park. It was eerie, walking through the silent corridors and into the empty changing rooms. You tried very hard to not think about the events of yesterday, focusing on the speckled flooring and the wooden benches as you dug through your bag to get your keys. You would be back that afternoon, so the kit could stay in your locker for now. Your phone was dead, unsurprisingly, but you knew Lena would have spammed you in the meantime.

Returning home felt surreal. Evidence of someone's presence lingered—dishwasher humming, blankets neatly folded. The thought of Ona or Alexia, perhaps tidying in anticipation of your return, tugged at your heart. The house, once brimming with life, now felt suffocatingly empty. Each room echoed with your absence, the memories of laughter and warmth now hauntingly distant. Moving through the familiar spaces, you felt like a ghost, your steps muted by the plush carpet beneath you. Every corner held a fragment of the life you would have to leave behind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what once was. Yet, as you moved from room to room, a sense of disconnection enveloped you, as if you were a stranger peering into a life that no longer belonged to you.

Your phone buzzed, and buzzed, and buzzed. Lena’s texts were coming through.

L💚: How was it?

L💚: Did u speak to them?

L💚: Is everything ok?

L💚: Schatz?

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Helloooooooo

L💚: Schatz?

Missed call from L💚

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Ur really scaring me

L💚: Schatz ????

Missed call from L💚

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Please

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Bitte

Missed call from L💚

Missed call from L💚

L💚: WHY THE FUCK HAS ALEXIA JUST TEXTED ME TO TELL ME U DIDN’T TELL THEM U WERE IN GERMANY????????

L💚: PLEASE TELL ME U TOLD THEM U HAD LEFT THE FUCKING COUNTRY

L💚: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

Missed call from L💚

Missed call from L💚

Missed call from L💚

L💚: Y/N !!!!!!!

Missed call from L💚

Missed call from L💚

Missed call from L💚

Missed call from L💚

L💚: ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE

Missed call from L💚

Missed call from L💚

L💚: PHONE ME !!!!!!!!!!!!!

The last message dated from only 30 minutes ago.

Incoming call from L💚

“Schatz, what the actual fuck?” Lena almost shouted down, the Facetime picking up her distress.

“I … I …” you felt a tear escape. “Fuck,” you said, harshly wiping it away.

“This makes me look so bad. Do you get that?” You did get that. To the team, she was now the girlfriend that aided and abetted your horrific actions. “I know. And I’m so, so sorry, Leibe,” you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell them?” she questioned again.

“I wasn’t thinking. I needed … out. I needed to get away. And it was all so fast and …” your explanation trailed off, a weak defense against her justified questioning.

"That's not good enough, Schatz. They're your friends. Did you think they wouldn't care? Did you think they wouldn't help? I'm trying to understand," Lena's tone softened slightly.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I fucked up massively. And I have no explanation for any of it.”

Lena let out a frustrated sigh, her features creased with concern. “You can't run away from your problems, Schatz.”

“I know,” you said, the guilt weighing heavily on your heart. “And I promise I'll do better. I'll make things right, I swear.”

“Wirst du das tun, wenn wir jemals streiten? Wirst du auch einfach verschwinden?” Lena's voice trembled with uncertainty, her fear palpable.

“No, never,” you replied immediately, the sincerity in your voice echoing through the connection. “I won't ever leave you. I promise, Lena. I love you.” Lena scrutinised you for a moment, searching for truth in your eyes. Finally, a glimmer of hope flickered in hers.

“Okay ... just promise me you won't shut me out like that. We're supposed to be a team, remember?” Lena implored. You nodded earnestly. “And make this right with the team. You can’t leave like this, especially not with Ona and Alexia.”

Lucy's fury surged like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf her and everything around her. Never before had she felt such a consuming anger, a tempest of emotions raging within her. How dare you, she seethed inwardly, her clenched fists trembling with unrestrained fury. The words reverberated in her mind like a relentless echo, each syllable fuelling the fire of her indignation.

The betrayal cut deep, slicing through the bonds of trust with surgical precision. How could you drop that absolute bomb of information on the team and then just leave? The question echoed in Lucy's mind, a refrain of disbelief and betrayal. Her chest heaved with the unspoken words, the air thick with the tension of unresolved anger.

Every fibre of Lucy's being screamed for justice, for retribution against you, who had callously shattered their trust. The image of Ona’s face burned in her mind like a brand, a scar etched into her memory. She had looked so scared, so fragile and raw. But beneath the raging storm of anger, there lurked a profound sense of hurt, a painful vulnerability that threatened to consume her. How could you do that to everyone? Did they mean nothing to you? Did Ona mean so little to you? The wounds of betrayal ran deep. Lucy found herself adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions, struggling to make sense of the chaos that had engulfed their once-unified team. The anger burned hot and fierce, a relentless inferno that threatened to consume her from within.

The changing rooms didn’t hold their usual pre-session chatter. There wasn’t a loud, bright atmosphere as people greeted each other and slipped into their workout gear. There was no gentle undercurrent of excitement for the day. Instead, it was spookily silent. A few low murmurs were uttered here and there as people passed, but there was no conversation, no high-fives, or laughter.

You had arrived at training early, hoping to avoid any awkwardness. As you entered, the stillness was almost suffocating. Mariona was the only other person there, her cubby positioned directly opposite yours. You both went about your routines in an awkward dance of avoidance, her presence a constant reminder of the tension that now defined the space. Seeking refuge, you slipped into the bathroom, deliberately taking longer than usual. The routine tasks of washing your hands, tying back your hair, and applying suncream felt almost meditative, a brief respite from the silence that awaited you.

Moving like passing ships in the night, you and Mariona drifted around each other, the silence punctuated only by the rustle of clothes and the soft thud of locker doors.

“Entiendo,” Mariona said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm but firm, and your head whipped up in surprise. Her words hit you with the force of a confession, their gravity making you feel like she had just admitted to something far more serious. “I understand … I’m terrified, and I’m leaving voluntarily.” The admission hung in the air, starkly contrasting the heavy silence from earlier. “I can’t imagine what it's like for you.” A lump formed in your throat as you struggled to find the right words.

"I didn’t mean to hurt anyone," you whispered, your voice barely audible. The weight of your words was palpable, each syllable a testament to the regret you felt.

Mariona’s eyes softened, but the tension remained. “Yo sé eso.” You nodded at her words. Your mouth opened to say more, but you were interrupted by the door swinging open and Irene, Marta and Caro walking through the door. You snapped your mouth shut, dipping your head down and turning back to face your locker.

The trio's arrival brought with it a fresh wave of awkwardness. Their conversation, though low and cautious, filled the room with an attempt at normalcy. You focused on your locker, trying to steady your breathing, feeling the weight of their glances. Irene, always perceptive, gave you a fleeting look of concern but said nothing. Marta and Caro exchanged glances, sensing the tension but unsure how to address it.

Slowly, the rest of the team trickled in. It was obvious that you would be participating in this session in silence. No one made a move to talk to you, to even greet you. Not until they had the all-clear from Alexia. You waited until you were one of the final few in the room. Turning, you caught sight of Ona and Lucy whispering in the corner. Ona’s face was still slightly puffy, her eyes still red as she picked at her nails. Lucy’s lips were pressed into a thin, hard line, the corners turned downward in a scowl, her eyes flicking in your direction occasionally. Her body was taut, every muscle seemingly coiled and ready to spring. Shoulders squared and rigid, she stood with a stance that was both defensive and confrontational. Her hands balled into tight fists and trembled slightly with the force of her suppressed rage. Her breath was measured as if she was struggling to maintain control and not let the anger consume her entirely. You hurried out of the room, rushing to leave the couple to their conversation.

The training session was one of the most awkward and painful things you had ever experienced. You stood quietly, tucked away at the end of the line, as Jona started the warmups. Trying to avoid drawing any attention to yourself, you focused intensely on the basics: placing one foot in front of the other, the rhythm of your breathing, the movement of your body. You hoped this would keep your mind occupied and distract you from the palpable tension around you.

When it came time for partner work, you found yourself lingering silently, waiting for a few uncomfortable moments before turning to the trainers. With an odd number of outfield players, someone had to be paired with one of the staff. Today, it seemed like that someone would be you. It wasn't the arrangement itself that bothered you; rather, it was the underlying implications. There was an air of exclusion that hung heavy in the atmosphere, making you feel like an outsider in what was supposed to be a team activity. The most unbearable part of it all was the not-so-subtle looks being thrown your way. It was clear that people were talking about you during the water breaks. Jana would frequently glance in your direction, only to be slapped on the arm by Pina as if reminding her to be discreet. Vicky appeared to take a tentative step toward you, possibly to offer some form of solidarity but was quickly redirected by Bruna, who nudged her in another direction. These interactions left you feeling isolated and self-conscious. Every whispered conversation, every sideways glance, seemed to amplify your sense of alienation. You could almost hear the silent judgments. This wasn't just a training session; it was a stark reminder of your outsider status, of how much damage you had done.

The scrimmage at the end was no better. Thankfully, Jona had made the teams for the final 7 v 7. Was it karma that he had placed you on the left wing with Lucy as the opposing right-back? Maybe. But you couldn’t deny that you deserved every shove, every tackle that she gave you. She seemed to be toeing the line between unprofessionalism carefully. She never left a lasting mark on you, but you could tell each push was personal.

As the exercise progressed, Lucy's aggression became more evident. She was relentless, pressing you harder than she did anyone else on the field. Each time she shouldered you off the ball or slid in with a perfectly timed tackle, you could feel the underlying animosity. It wasn’t just about winning the ball; it was about sending a message. If it were a normal day, a day when you hadn’t messed up so unbelievably badly, you would have shoved back or shouted a little. But you couldn’t do that. Today, you were paying for your mistakes, and Lucy was more than willing to collect.

So, you took it. Every time you were sent to the ground, you didn’t question it. You didn’t wait for the whistle to be blown or hope that someone would extend a hand to help you back up. Instead, you popped back up, shook yourself off, and continued like nothing was wrong like your whole life wasn't crumbling around you. Each time you hit the grass, the sting of the impact seemed to echo your emotional bruises. But you refused to show it. You forced yourself to remain strong. You could break down again later. You pushed through the scrimmage with grim determination, aware of the eyes on you, aware of the judgment, but unwilling to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you break.

Despite the bruises and the rough treatment, you managed to stay on your feet more than you had thought you would do. You moved through the motions, running up and down the small pitch, crossing balls into the box, and tracking back on defence. But every action felt hollow, your mind a swirl of what-ifs and if-onlys. The final whistle came as a relief, yet also with a sense of dread. You knew the real battle was far from over. As Jona dismissed you for the day, you helped the trainers collect the equipment, hoping to delay your return and allow the others time to leave peacefully.

As you walked through the main doors back into the building, you noticed Alexia. Standing strong and unimpressed, leaning against the wall. You went to speak but thought better of it, nodding once and smiling uneasily instead. As you moved to walk past her, she stopped you, a warm hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Nosotras necesitamos hablar.” Her voice was sharp, a firmness that was hardly ever directed at you … not since the trouble from last year. You nodded, your voice unable to work.

You followed her through the maze of corridors until you reached a seldom-used meeting room. Was it a coincidence that it was the same room you had the meeting with the State Officials in and first told them about Lena? Maybe, but you wouldn’t put it past Alexia to have chosen it specifically. “Sentarse.” Her voice held a harshness to it that cut through you like a knife. You deserve this. You deserve this. You hurt her. You hurt everyone.

“Since you wanted to be treated like an adult, we will talk like adults.” You nodded. God, why couldn’t you speak? It wasn’t like you hadn’t been in trouble before. Maybe it was because this was such a personal mistake. When you hadn’t completed the forms on time, yes, it had been your fault as you were the person responsible, but there was a somewhat clear-cut way to fix it. It was laid out for you. But this … this was something you needed to navigate like an adult. No one was going to help you this time.

Alexia pointed to a chair, and she pulled out her own. “Explicar.” Her command was simple, really. But where could you begin? Where should you start? You were clearly taking too long. Alexia huffed, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at you. You sank into the chair, feeling the weight of her gaze bearing down on you. How could you explain the mess you had made? The knots in your stomach tightened as you struggled to find the right words. Despite your best efforts, your breath quickened, and your fingers had a mind of their own as they started to pick at the dry skin around your nails.

"I... I don't … I don’t know … where to start," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Alexia's expression softened ever slightly, but her impatience was palpable. She had never seen you look so young. Even when you were in the hell that was the legal trouble last year, or the wide-eyed teen that turned up on her doorstep at the request of the club, with a single suitcase and a dream.

"Just start from the beginning," she urged, her tone imperceptively gentler now. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

“I got a phone call from Paul … my agent,” you swallowed, staring harshly into the table, refusing to meet Alexia’s eye or even look in her general direction. “He said he had just got back from a meeting with the club.” You stuck to the facts, no emotions, no elaborations, just facts. You couldn’t … wouldn’t … cry if you stuck to the simple facts. “He said they couldn’t afford to keep me next season.” You stopped.

It was clear to Alexia that that was as much as you could say about the situation without breaking. You were so similar in that way. Both of you refused to cry in front of someone else, not unless you were truly comfortable and perfectly safe around them. Did you not feel safe around her anymore? Had she broken your relationship? No, she stopped those thoughts in their tracks. You had broken the relationship, you, not her … then why did she feel like she was to blame, at least partially?

Alexia watched you carefully, her heart aching at the sight of your pain. She wanted to reach out ... to comfort you. No. She held herself back. She knew that now wasn't the time for softness, not when there were hard truths that needed to be faced. “What about Germany?” Her voice was still icy, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife. What about Germany? Germany was where Lena was. Germany was safe. Germany had Lena. You took another steadying breath, pushing down everything that was threatening to overwhelm you.

“Lena phoned me. She said either I went to her or she came to me. She had the Pokal final, so I went to her.” Another pause. “I needed to think. To breathe. To …” you trailed off. You let out a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Todavía no entiendo.” She admitted after a moment. You nodded, biting your lip so hard that you started to taste blood. A tear plopped onto the wooden table in front of you, another one joining quickly afterwards. “Por qué … why didn’t you tell someone? Anyone?” Alexia's question pierced through the haze of your thoughts, demanding an answer you weren't sure you had. Why hadn’t you done that? You honestly had no explanation for it. You just needed out. Out of your house. Out of Barcelona. Out of Spain. Every time you looked at your phone, all the emotions came flooding back like a tsunami. So, you didn’t look.

“I don’t know,” you croaked, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat.

“Eso no es lo suficientemente bueno.” Alexia's words were severe, a reminder that there would never be a good enough reason to justify your actions. You knew that. You knew that there would never be an excuse that could erase the hurt you had caused. You nodded. “Mírame,” she demanded after a moment. Your head remained down, but your eyes drifted up.

Alexia looked in pain. Not the physical pain – you had seen the uncomfortable look she had when she had tweaked her knee again or the scrunch of her eyebrows when an opposing player left her mark on her. This was different. This was emotional pain, etched into the lines of her face, shadowing the brightness of her eyes. As you watched her struggle to contain her emotions, the guilt pierced your heart tenfold. Your actions had caused her pain ... had shattered the fragile peace she had worked so hard to maintain. “Por qué no viniste a mí?” Once she asked that initial question, the floodgates opened. “No querías que te ayudara? I could have done something. I could have spoken to the club or something, anything. Em culpes?” She finished her sentence in Catalan. She thought you blamed her? You didn’t know what to say. The dam broke. Hot, fat tears rolled in a steady stream down your face.

“Never, Alexia. Never. I never, ever blamed you. I promise. It’s not your fault. It’s on me, it’s all on me. I’m not good enough for the club. For anyone. Of course, they want to renew you and Lucy over me. You deserve it so much more than me. This isn’t anyone’s fault but mine.” It was a mismatch of languages. Some sentences in English, some in Spanish and Catalan, and others in German. “I fucked up so badly. I don’t even know what I was thinking. I … I couldn’t ... I needed to … I don’t even know. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You don’t deserve any of this. I fucked up so horrifically.” Alexia had never seen you so upset. It was clear she needed to intervene when she noticed your breathing quickening. You were hyperventilating now, apologies still streaming from your mouth. With a gentle hand, she reached out and placed it on your trembling shoulder. She didn’t think you even noticed it.

“Cariño. Breathe.” She instructed. Eventually, you slowed down, your breathing and heart rate returning to a more normal level. “Thank you for apologising,” she said when you had fully calmed down. “I’m not going to lie and say that I’m not hurt. And I’m not quite ready to forgive you. But I think there is more to this story than just you. You should not have been blindsided like that by the club. But your actions …” You nodded.

“I truly am sorry, Ale, um, Alexia.” You really wanted to hug her, but you knew you weren’t quite forgiven enough for that yet. She stood, offering a weak smile to you as she left the room, leaving you to your own thoughts.

I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3<3

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Fourteen - His Pretty, Little Wife

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

The next chapter is going to be the midway point, basically. We've still got so much more plot to come and I really don't know how long this story is going to be, it's already 25.5K long all together

1.8K words

Series Masterlist

Marie. The cook that Carlos fucked was called Marie.

It was easy for Y/N to find her; she didn’t think she would ever forget that face. When she walked down into the kitchens, Marie’s face went pale. She let out an alarmed squeak and went to hide behind another one of the cooks.

From the way Y/N was dressed, she didn’t blame Marie for hiding away. She was meant to be powerful and imposing, mirroring the aura her husband gave off. The long, black dress with the slit up the side of the skirt, and heeled boots. It was gorgeous, making Y/N look ever the part of the powerful mafia wife her mother once was.

“Relax, Marie,” Y/N said as she leaned against the worktop, staring at her.

The employee she was hiding behind cleared his throat and stepped out of the way, leaving Marie at Y/N’s mercy.

She gulped as she looked at the lady of the house. “Please, mi señora, no quise hacer daño,” she cried. She fell to her knees, clasping her hands together, tears springing to her eyes.

Y/N sucked in a breath. Her Spanish lessons had been going well enough that she could pick up a couple of words and peace together the sentence. Please, my lady, Marie had said, I meant no harm. She took a moment to formulate a response.

It may have made her appear weak, but Y/N didn’t care. “Marie, esta bien,” She said, unfolding her arms. (Marie, it is okay). “Tengo una propuesta para ti.” But this was where she stopped being able to speak to Marie in her native tongue.

She sucked in a deep breath. “Your sleeping with my husband is not something I blame you for, okay? If it had been me sleeping with another man, my husband would have had him killed.” Marie let out a cry. “But I don’t want to have you killed. I will not have you killed. What I want to do is to set you up, with enough money that you won’t need to work,” she said.

“Mi señora,” said Marie as she fell to her knees, gasping sobs leaving her lips.

“I’ll give you the money, enough to set you up for life, as long as you leave wordlessly and tell nobody where you’re going.”

Gulping, Marie nodded her head. She’d do as her lady asked, from fear she’d lose her life.

Carlos’s money was now Y/N’s money, too. She could do what she wanted with it, and what she wanted to do was set Marie up somewhere nice.

She took the money and found Marie somewhere to live. It was on the very edge of the Sainz territory, somewhere they’d never think to look. She gave Marie the money and helped her to escape in the dead of night.

Marie would never admit it, but she was grateful to señora Sainz, for helping her get away from this life of crime. It was no little girls dream to serve the biggest crime family in Spain, but, once you got in, there was no way out. Y/N was offering her a helping hand, and Marie jumped to take it.

Y/N made her way to Carlos’s office. She pushed past the men guarding the door, who no longer bothered to stop her, and took her seat at Carlos’s desk. In his chair, with his feet up on the top of the desk.

It was a risk, sitting in his seat, but it was a risk Y/N was willing to take. There was no telling how he would react when he came back in from the garden, to see her sitting in his seat.

But Y/N didn’t have to wait for very long. Carlos came back in from the garden, not paying much attention as he strode across his office.

But then he spied her, sitting at his desk. A smirk crossed his face. “Hello, my pretty, little wife,” he said, sitting in one of the seats on the other side of the desk. He leaned back as he stared at her. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Have you seen Marie recently?” Asked Y/N as she looked at him over the top of her boots.

Carlos let the smile drop from his face. “No, Y/N, I haven’t,” he answered.

“I wonder why that could be.”

It took Carlos a moment to realise what she meant. They’d played that game of chess nearly a week ago, the dots were hard to connect. But, once he got it, Carlos let that same smirk cross his face once ago. “Oh Dios mío,” he said with a shake of his head. “My pretty little wife had somebody killed. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Carlos liked it. For some unexplainable reason, Carlos liked it. He liked the fact that she had somebody killed. This wasn’t what Y/N expected. She didn’t really know what to do now. But she didn’t shift, didn’t move. She kept her gaze on Carlos, feet on the table. “You said you’d kill any man I slept with, so I thought I’d return the favour.”

“Did you know Marie had a family?” Carlos asked as he leaned back. “Her husband died, bless her, but she had two little boys. Mateo and Diego. I wonder what they will do without their mother. Well, I wonder how long they’ll last without her.”

As he said it, Carlos watched for Y/N’s reaction, and Y/N knew that. But it was hard to know how to react. Marie had already told her about Diego and Mateo, and Y/N had given her enough for the whole family to get away. But Carlos didn’t know that. He was expecting her to be distraught.

But that was what the old Y/N would have done, what the weak Y/N would have done.

She found the balance, picking at her nails as she said, “I didn’t know that,” she mumbled, no longer meeting his gaze.

Carlos smirked as he stood from his seat and straightened out his suit jacket. “No matter, mi amor, it is no concern of ours.” He pulled Y/N’s chair back, making her legs fall from the desk. Carlos kissed the top of her head and stood her up from the chair, taking her place. “You can stay with me, querida, sit on my lap while I have meetings,” he said, wearing a devilish grin.

Y/N quickly shook her head and rushed out of the office. What Carlos had just offered, all because he thought she had somebody killed, was that a step in the right direction? Was that evidence that Carlos was going to start respecting her? Only time would tell.

***

This was one of those rare instances where Carlos’s family didn’t join them for dinner. Family dinners was something Sainz was very passionate about, and he’d insisted they’d all meet at Carlos’s house while Y/N was settling in. But this was the last week where Carlos would host the dinner and soon they’d be returning to dinners at Sainz’s.

But tonight, there was no family dinner. Carlos still insisted he and Y/N ate together, though.

After her Spanish lesson, one of Carlos’s men came to get her. They’d begun to speak to her in Spanish, and Y/N had to try her best to understand them. If she couldn’t understand them, they’d try again in English, something she was grateful for.

Y/N stood from the table. “Gracias señora,” she said to her Spanish tutor and walked out of the library.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked out to the patio. She stood in front of the pool for just a second, looking at the reflection of the clouds in the sky. Every morning Carlos went for his daily swim, and Y/N would have been lying if she said she didn’t watch him.

She looked towards the table, where the kitchen staff were laying the food out on the table. It was a lot for two people, far too much. There was no sign of Maria as they laid the table.

No sign of her husband either.

But then Y/N looked towards the other side of the garden, towards the fire pit. It wasn’t lit, but Carlos was sat there, cigarette between his lips.

She strode towards him, walking across the patio, towards her husband. He looked up at his, dark eyes following her as she approached. “I didn’t know you smoked,” she said as she came to stand in front of him.

Carlos released the smoke from his lungs and looked up at his wife. He wrapped his arm around her place, pulling her close. “Does my pretty little wife not like it when I smoke?” He asked, an amused smile playing on his lips. His face was level with her stomach, so close to…

Y/N shook her thoughts away. She leaned down and wrapped her arms around his neck, ever step calculating. “Oh no, Carlos,” she said, slowly getting closer to him. “I couldn’t care less,” she whispered and kissed his cheek.

Standing up straight she walked away from him, hips swaying from side to side as she walked around the pool, making her way to the table.

She looked towards the golf course. Since she’d married Carlos, she hadn’t seen the golf course be used once. It was a favourite pastime of her brothers, back when he was allowed to have pastimes. If they were a normal couple, if they had married for love, Y/N was sure she would have gotten him to teach her some golf while she taught him how to play the perfect game of chess. But, instead, Y/N was left longing for that life, for the husband who would teach her golf and swim with her in the pool, who would stop smoking because she asked and hold her close as they sat around the fire pit.

Her eyes moved towards Carlos, watching as he finished the cigarette. She didn’t know when he had started calling her his pretty, little wife. But she wasn’t complaining. It made her knees weak, hearing those words leave his pretty lips.

Y/N watched as he stubbed out his cigarette and walked around the pool, sitting himself at the table opposite her. He wore that same amused smile as he began putting things on Y/N’s plate. Fuck, she wanted him. She wanted him so bad.

Taglist (open): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @ashy-kit @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa23 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal

[thevirgodoll]

doll diary.

hey angels! PSA: the wrong environment can literally take the life out of you. I’ve noticed ever since I stopped being in a hostile work environment, my skin cleared back up, I started back my maintenance routine, I got proper rest, and I’ve had more time to write posts and draft them.

point of it all is: if you’re compromising your desired lifestyle/dream, it’s not for you. if it feels wrong in your gut, in your heart, then you HAVE to walk away. and if you can’t just yet due to circumstances, live as if you have.

delusion carries people through the WORST situations. but it’s not delusional if it’s destined to happen.

exist in a reality where everything is okay and you have your dream lifestyle. it’s already on its way to you. if something pulls you further apart from the world you created, how healthy is it?

whatever doesn’t fit your narrative has to go, and I really mean that. people lose themselves in regret every single day. I refuse to play myself like that.

don’t get distracted by a lifestyle you aren’t meant for that you compromise your values and your dreams.

ask yourself if this job, this person, etc is part of your storyline. you’re the producer and you call the shots. or are you in a new season?

think of everything and everyone that doesn’t fit as plot points to push along your story. same with opportunities. just something to lead you from one place to the next.

that’s all for now. stepping into my new season.

[eternalxvenus]

୨⎯ Like a good neighbor, Gojo is there ⎯୧

summary: You've just moved into a fixer-upper in a quaint neighborhood, excited to start building and designing your dream home. Everything's perfect…or would be, if it weren't for that gorgeous but obnoxious Satoru Gojo next door, who you fight with practically every day.

cw: smut 18+, satoru gojo x f!reader, smut, a little fluff, a smidgen of plot if you squint, gojo is annoying, no curses au, gojo is stupidly rich, pet names (baby, sweetheart), oral f!receiving, p in v, light choking, squirting

word count: 1.5k

notes: this is my first time writing smut so pls bear with me… the tile is bc that logo has been stuck in my head all damn day </3, im also debating on making a part 2… and lastly HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!

You woke up to the sound of birds and wind, the sun shining brightly through your uncovered windows. As you stretched your limbs out with a groan trying to fully wake up, you thought about all the things you had to do today.

The clock shown 9:15am. Getting out of bed, the house was warm thanks to the summer morning. After doing your morning routine and eating breakfast you decide that you’re next project for the house will be painting the outside porch railing. You already had the paint, opting for a soft brown color.

Outside the air was warm and almost humid. The half empty coffee cup rested on the small table you had out there. Your clothes were already stained and rugged from previous projects done on the house. You picked up a paintbrush and promptly started on the porch.

About an hour or so later you were still painting, a light sheen in your forehead as you hummed a song stuck in your head. This was the peace you were looking for.

“Heyyy Y/N, how’s your morning going?” You roll your eyes, recognizing the all to chipper voice. Your neighbor Satoru Gojo. He was the most non-peaceful thing about the entire neighborhood. You tried to ignore him, but of course he was already making his way over. “I said good morning, what’s wrong too tired to speak?” he inquired.

A loud huff leaves your mouth. “No Gojo. I just don’t want to speak. To you at least.”

“Ah don’t be like that. I know what’s got you in a sour mood. It’s that ugly paint color isn’t it? Looks like shit— literally.”

“Gojo please do not come over here starting nonsense. It’s a pretty neutral brown. Now go away and leave me be.” You pick up the paint can and move to the next part of the porch. Gojo watches you lazily as you move about. He’s uncharacteristically silent and you almost forget that he’s even there. Glancing up to give him a look that says ‘What?’

With a no good smile on his face he says “Have lunch with me Y/N. Take a break and i’ll make us something good.”

You thought about declining but you were really hungry. As if on command your stomach growled rather loudly. “What’s the catch? You berate all my artistic choices thus far?” you deadpan.

With a hand over his chest in mock offense Gojo replies saying, “I would never!” He starts walking over to his house beckoning you to follow. “C’mon i’ll make us some sandwich wraps.”

You follow Gojo into his house and i soon as you step inside you see the stark contrast the inside has compared to the outside. Everything looks modern and sleek.

Gojo clears his throat before speaking. “Have a seat wherever. I’ll get started on the wraps.” You give a brief nod, walking into his living room to get a closer look at the decor. Fifteen minutes later, Gojo walks in empty handed.

“I put the wraps in the fridge. I usually let them sit in there about 10-15 minutes before eating so they have a better crunch and don’t get as soggy.” He plopped down on the couch stretching out his arms and legs. His eyes kept moving down to your ass as you walked around. “Come sit and let’s talk.”

You sit down next to him, making sure to leave a good amount of space between you both, before he scoots you closer by the hips.

“You know, I’ve never had such a pretty neighbor before…” Gojo’s voice is smooth and filled with seduction. Your heartbeat picks up as he places a hand on your thigh squeezing lightly.

“Gojo… what are you doing?” You ask in a breathy voice. His touch had an effect on you and you hated it. The last thing he needed was an ego boost.

“Oh come on Y/N, why do you think i’m always coming to bother you? I needed an excuse to see your pretty face.” He lowered his head to place light kisses along your jaw and neck. You moved your head to the side to give him better access. It couldn’t hurt to have a little fun…

Gojo moves from your neck and looks into your eyes. You see the dark lustful look in them before he pulls you in for a heated and bruising kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, both of you barely stopping to get any air. You can feel the heat and arousal rushing through your body as he pulls you into his lap. Lifting his hips up slightly you can feel that he’s already hard and definitely not small. You break the kiss to pull off your shirt and Gojo nearly rips off your bra before taking one of your hard nipples into his mouth while working the other between his fingers. “Ah… Gojo-”

“Satoru” he says breathing heavily and looking into your eyes. “Please call me Satoru.”

“Satoru… don’t tease.” you nearly whine.

“Fuck… i need to taste you.” Without missing a beat Gojo lays you down on the couch, making quick work of getting your jeans and panties off. “You’re so wet, this all for me?” his lips formed that cocky smirk. “Shut up and do something.” you say squirming. He grabs your hips to still you then lowers his head to taste your arousal. “You taste better than I could’ve imagined… so fucking sweet.” He goes straight into it, sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing your hole with his tongue like he’s starved. Your hands immediately find purchase in his hair. You tug slightly making Gojo moan which only adds to the knot that’s already forming in your stomach.

You try to lift your hips but he has you in an iron grip. Heavy pants and moans slip past your lips as you feel that familiar sensation or your orgasm. “Ah! Sa-satoru! Fuck i’m gonna cum!” he continues working his tongue on your clit as he inserts two of his long fingers inside of you, curling them to hit that spot that has you seeing stars. Gojo eagerly licks and sucks all that you’re offering as you slowly start to come down from your high. He kisses your thighs and slowly makes his way up to your face. “I could eat you out all day” he breathes out. “But right now I wanna be inside you.”

You watch as he takes off his pants, seeing the wet patch on his boxers from his precum. After removing the rest of his clothing he now rests in between your legs, stroking himself as he rubs his tip against your clit. You buck your hips trying to get more friction but Gojo won’t budge. “Tell me what you want.” he whispers aligning himself with your entrance. “Satoru just fuck me please!” You say impatiently. The only warning you have is Gojo saying “If you say so.” before sliding his cock in until he bottomed out.

He threw his head back with a groan. “Shiiiit baby you’re so fucking tight.” He gave you a moment to adjust then started fucking you at an almost inhuman pace. All you could do was moan not able to form anything coherent. You felt Gojo’s hand come to your neck and squeeze just enough to heighten the force of his thrust. “You take me so well… this slutty pussy just keeps sucking me in.” His free hand slipped down to rub harsh circles on your clit causing you to practically scream. “Satoru! Too much!”

“You can take it baby i’m almost there. I want you to cum for me.”

Gojo keeps up his unrelenting pace and overstimulates your clit. You can feel him throbbing inside of you as his thrusts start to stagger and get sloppy signaling he was close. “Fuck baby I’m gonna cum… gonna cum all over those pretty tits.”

“Please Satoru! Feels so good… fucking cumming ah!” You feel a gush of warm liquid between your legs just as Gojo pulls out whimpering while spilling his cum all over your stomach. “F-fucking shit! Fuck baby…” you both lay there panting as Gojo gives you small feathery kisses. After a minute or two he gets up to grab a towel to clean you up with. He’s back in his boxers and had one of his shirts for you to wear. You blush taking it with a small “Thank you.”

Once you’ve sat up and slipped on the shirt you notice the wet spot staining the couch. “Shit… sorry about your couch Satoru. I’ll give you the money to replace it.”

Gojo laughs at your concern for his couch. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart.” He moves you both over to a the other side of the couch that isn’t ruined. “No really i’ll replace it, how much was it?” He mumbles something that you don’t understand. “What?”

“$3,600.”

You stare at him in shock. “Satoru what the hell!” He dismisses your shock with a wave of his hand and lays you both down. “I told you don’t worry about it. Right now just lay here with me.” Just as you both got comfortable and closed your eyes, your stomach growls loudly.

“I guess now would be a good time to get those sandwiches.” Gojo laughs.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[birdiewriteslit]

“on the down low”

harry james potter x f!weasley!reader

no voldemort au

summary: you and harry have been hiding your relationship from your family for four months, but when he stays over for the holidays, they start to uncover the truth, one by one.

warnings: idk how long this is but it feels long, kissing, fluff, CHRISTMAS

me pretending voldemort doesn’t exist again for the sake of plot convenience and my own happiness

Godric, you hadn’t realized how hard it would be to pretend over the holiday. At first, it seemed like a dream come true. Harry staying at the burrow for Christmas meant you’d be able see him whenever you wanted, but you couldn’t exactly do what you wanted.

During the day, you and Harry had to act indifferent to each other, like you hadn’t been together since the end of the summer.

It was different than it was at Hogwarts, where nobody suspected a seventh year to go for her brother’s best friend, who was a year younger. That excluded Hermione, of course, who was just too damn smart to not figure you out.

You hadn’t realized how easy it was to sneak around in a giant castle with a multitude of empty classrooms and an invisibility cloak at your disposal compared to your house of nine other people where the walls were thin and the furniture was old, regardless of proximity between you.

You kicked Harry’s foot under the dinner table. He looked up from his plate and stared at you, bewildered. You nodded to your mother who had just asked him a question he clearly hadn’t heard.

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for his response. “Sorry?” He took his gaze away from you and onto Molly.

“Harry, I asked you if you’ve gotten yourself a girlfriend this year?” she clarified.

Harry spluttered, glancing at you quickly before looking back at her. He cleared his throat. “No, I haven’t.”

Your mother tutted. “A shame, really. Let’s hope you don’t end up like Charlie. Such a handsome boy, and yet, he can’t find a nice woman to settle down with,” she sighed and turned her attention to your older brother, who was rolling his eyes.

Harry looked relieved that he was no longer the one being questioned. “Mum, stop it. I’m only 22. I’m too young to settle down. Bill’s older and he’s not married.”

Bill stopped mid bite to gesture violently at Charlie to cut it out, but Molly paid him no mind.

“Spend your whole life with dragons, see if I care,” she responded vehemently. “Let’s hope your sister doesn’t go off with you to Romania when she graduates.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes as you became your mother’s new subject of torture. It was true, you were looking into a career with dragons, but it was unlikely you’d end up on the same reserve as your brother.

“You know, darling, you ought to find a nice boy. It would do you well.”

You grimaced. “And here we are, back to your favorite topic.”

“Not mine,” Fred interjected.

“Certainly not,” George added. “She’s not allowed to date.”

“Oh, she’s not, is she?” Ginny said, giving you a seemingly knowing look. Merlin, you could only hope she knew nothing.

“No, and neither are you, Gin,” Fred said swiftly.

“We’ll that’s unfortunate,” Ginny looked at you smugly. “Because I think our sister has had her eye on someone.”

Harry turned paler than normal, looking at you in alarm, his face saying, ‘Did you tell her?’ Hermione, to his side, gave you a similar look.

Your face heated under the eyes of your entire family. You shot Ginny a glare before deciding to get her back. “That’s what you think, but I know you bloody well fancy Dean Thomas.”

The focus shifted from you to Ginny. “Dean Thomas?” said Ron, staring at your sister in astonishment.

“Who’s Dean Thomas?” your mother asked cheekily.

Ginny groaned, hiding her red face in her hands. “I’m excusing myself. Goodnight, family.”

She stood up from the crowded table and basically threw her plate into the sink before running upstairs.

“Seriously, who’s Dean Thomas?” your mum asked for the second time.

“A boy in Ron’s year,” you explained briefly. “He’s perfectly decent,” you elaborated further, once you realized your family’s eyes were unrelenting.

“Well, who does she think you fancy?” Bill said, grinning. Why did the first thing he contributed during this conversation have to target you? Why couldn’t it have been revenge on Charlie?

“How should I know? I haven’t told her anything that would make her think I was interested in anyone.” That was a lie. You did tell her something.

“Are you?” Bill followed up.

“That’s really none of your business,” you said, standing up from the table and clearing your plate.

“As long as it’s not someone in our year, that’s what I say.” Ron nudged Harry, looking at his friend who nodded weakly.

You began to walk up the stairs, but not before shooting Harry a look that pleaded him to come upstairs when he could get away. Because of your circumstances, you’d gotten very good at giving each other wordless glances like these.

A little while later, a pajama clad Harry entered your room, checking the hall for anyone before closing the door behind him.

“Ron thinks I’m in the bathroom. Did you tell Ginny about us?” he said hurriedly.

“Of course not,” you denied. “I may have given her a hint though.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What?”

“I didn’t mean to! She was talking about Dean, and asked me if I liked anybody, and who am I to lie, so I said yes.”

“Um,” Harry interjected. “One problem with that is that we lie about our relationship every day. You are a liar.”

“Don’t interrupt me, Harry. Anyway, she asked me who and I wouldn’t tell her, so she started listing names. She asked me what I thought of you, and I let it slip that I thought you were cute,” you said sheepishly, toying with a button on his shirt. “I think I scared her off with the Dean thing, we should be in the clear.”

Harry only grinned. “You think I’m cute?”

“Oh shut up, would you?” you said, pushing his chest away from yours.

“Sure.” He pulled you back by the waist, his hands resting on your hips as he ducked down to kiss you. He tasted like toothpaste, but you really didn’t mind it.

He was about to pull away after a moment, but you tangled your fingers in his hair, keeping his mouth attached to yours.

“I’ve missed you all day,” Harry murmured against your lips.

“Godric, me too.” You clung onto him like you knew it wouldn’t last, and it didn’t. Ron called out to Harry from somewhere in the hallway, and Harry pulled away from you. His glasses were fogged up and he was cursing Ron.

When the lenses cleared, he leaned down to press another chaste kiss to your lips. “I’ll see you in the morning,” he whispered, exiting the room quietly.

You slumped onto your bed, staring at the open door with a forlorn look on your face. Ginny suddenly appeared in the doorway, her mouth hanging open and her hand pointing to the end of the hall, then to where you sat.

“What- what have I just witnessed? Why? This changes life as we know it. You! And Harry! You-“

You hurried to cut her off, standing from the bed and practically sprinting to the door to cover her mouth. “You be quiet now,” you warned, looking both ways in the hall and shoving Ginny inside your room.

“Why did I see Harry leaving this room looking like he’s got something to hide?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Listen, lady, you didn’t see anything, because nothing happened,” you said, pointing a finger at her.

“I never said anything happened, I just said he had something to hide. And guess what? I know he has something to hide, because I know you like him,” she retaliated, pointing her finger right back.

“Who? Me? Like Harry? Psssshhh… you’ve got the wrong girl. That doesn’t sound anything like me.”

Ginny folded her arms over her chest. “Oh really? Well, does this sound like you? Oh, Ginny, Harry’s just so cute! I wish he would like me back because, well, I just love him so much!” She batted her eyelashes, imitating a version of you that didn’t exist.

“Actually, Gin, that sounds nothing like me, so you can just forget anything that you think you saw,” you retorted.

“I don’t think I will forget. I think I’ll just tell everyone that you’re sneaking around with Harry. I didn’t miss the look he gave you at dinner either! So I can tell everyone, or you can quit lying and just give me all the details.”

She did have a way of getting you to cave. Really, it was just tactful manipulation.

“Alright fine, but if you tell anyone, you’re dead. Well, you can tell Hermione. She already knows.”

Ginny gasped, very offended. “You told her before your own sister?”

“I did not! She’s too smart for her own good. Anyways, sit down.”

Then, you told Ginny everything. It felt actually good to be able to talk about your relationship to someone other than Hermione, especially to your only sister, who you were honestly very grateful for.

You told her about how he kissed you a week before you left for school, solidifying the relationship you were having throughout the summer holiday. You told her about how he was funny and such a gentlemen. You even told her about how you’d been sneaking off since school started, and what you’d been doing.

Once Ginny was fully satisfied with the information and you were relatively sure she wouldn’t squawk to any of your brothers, she bid you goodnight and went to bed.

The following morning, Christmas Eve morning, you had risen later than usual. “Good morning, family,” you greeted, entering the kitchen and heading straight for the kettle.

“Morning,” Ginny said from the table. “I trust you slept well. I expect you feel loads lighter now.”

“Oh yeah, much lighter,” you grinned back.

“What are you two on about?” Bill said from his seat across from Ginny.

“Oh, nothing. Our sister just shared some interesting things with me last night,” she hummed.

You saw Harry’s head perk up from the couch, where he was laying. Ron was sprawled on the floor below.

“Gin, shut up,” you warned quietly.

“I’m not even sure I want to know,” Bill said.

“Oh, you’d be delighted, I’m sure. But, alas, I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” Ginny sighed.

“Then why even bring it up, you idiot?” you said as you sat down next to her, carefully eyeing a nervous looking Harry.

Bill followed your gaze and whistled lowly. You almost had a heart attack. “I see. That is very interesting.”

You turned to face your sister. “Look what you’ve done now. Why not just shout it from the rooftops?” you scolded.

“I didn’t say anything!” she defended.

“She’s right, you gave yourself away,” Bill confirmed, leaning in to whisper, “You’re lucky Ron’s pretty clueless on the floor over there.”

Your face burned. “Just don’t tell anybody.”

“Now why would I do that? It’s a whole lot more fun if you do it yourself.” Bill grinned, leaving you and Ginny at the table.

You dropped your head into your arms.

Later, you and Harry sat in the yard, leaning against a tree. You were on the side that couldn’t be seen from your siblings’ makeshift quidditch game across the yard.

It was the nicest day of break so far, not too cold, but not necessarily warm either. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, which delighted you.

You were lying in Harry’s lap, gazing up at him as he mindlessly played with your hair. “I can’t believe you told Ginny,” he said for the tenth time since breakfast.

You rolled your eyes and sat up. “I already told you, she was nagging me. Plus, I can’t really talk to Hermione about this sort of thing. She’s hung up on Ron. I keep telling her Lavender was just a phase because of some stupid love potion infused chocolate, but she usually just goes glum and ignores me.”

“You could just stop talking about us,” he suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“You wouldn’t understand,” you said, reaching forward to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket.

“Why? Am I too charming and handsome for you to shut up about?” He grinned, taking hold of your hand and pressing it to his chest.

“Something like that.” You smiled, but quickly stopped when you saw the smug look on his face. “Don’t let that get to your head, Potter.”

“I won’t,” he said, leaning in to kiss your lips. His free hand came up to frame your face, and you placed yours on his thigh. You had half a mind to pull away, but only enough to see his face.

“Harry, we can’t do this out here. My siblings are right over there. Someone could see us,” you said softly, staring up at his bright green eyes.

“Honey, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m not gonna care,” he said, breath heavy as he looked at you adoringly. Your stomach did flips and you instantly forgot about reasons to hold yourself back.

You surged forward, kissing him hard on the mouth. You knew you wouldn’t get the chance to do so until well after dinner, so you took advantage of your siblings being distracted. He responded enthusiastically, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you closer.

“Woah, looks like I’ve caught more than just the snitch!”

You sprang apart, wiping your mouth as you looked up to see one of your grinning brothers, hovering above the tree on a broomstick holding a little golden sphere.

“Charlie! This isn’t what it looks like,” you managed, pushing yourself as far away from Harry as possible.

“Really, because it looks like you’ve been snogging his face off,” Charlie said, looking pleased with himself.

Harry burned bright red, refusing to make eye contact with either of you.

“Charlie, what’s taking you so long?” you heard Ron call from the other side of the yard.

“I’ll keep this a secret, but only because I love you, little sister. And because it’s funnier this way.” Charlie grinned again and turned on his broom to speed back to the group.

You and Harry left for the house before anyone else did, completely ignoring Hermione on the couch, her nose deep in a thick book, as you rushed upstairs.

Once you were sure you were alone, you stopped Harry in the middle of the hallway. “Okay, that was the last time. No more doing that in the open.”

“Sorry, got carried away. At least it wasn’t Ron who saw us.” Harry shuttered, not even wanting to think about what his reaction would be.

“Shake it off, Harry. Just three, only three of them know. There’s like a bajillion others that don’t,” you rationalized. “Look, we just need to get through this holiday without anyone else finding out that we’re together. I think we can do that.”

“You lied to mother?” A stiff voice came from down the hallway. Shit. You forgot Percy was still in the house, holed up in his room doing his Ministry work.

Harry’s eyes widened as he shook his head at you, refusing to turn around.

“You’re seeing someone and you lied about it?” Percy frowned. “Well, I’ll have to tell her.”

“No, you won’t have to tell her. Don’t tell her. Please,” you practically begged.

Percy didn’t look convinced. His steely gaze wouldn’t let up. “I won’t if you promise me to tell her.”

“I promise, Perce, just let me do it when I’m ready,” you said, less of a real promise and more of a strategy to get him to go back into his room. You were thanking God when he nodded curtly and did just that.

“Well, would you look at the impeccable timing on that,” Harry said sarcastically.

You grimaced. “Dinner’ll be a real treat tonight.”

Dinner was not a treat. It was delicious, of course, courtesy of your mother. But it was quite tense, at least for you and Harry.

Bill kept shooting you knowing glances from across the table, looking back and forth between you and Harry, who made the seemingly unconscious choice to sit beside you.

Charlie couldn’t even look at you without snickering to himself, prompting your mum to start questioning him on his odd behavior.

Percy was silently urging you to say something about it, pulling at his collar uncomfortably and staring at you, unrelenting.

Ginny was, thankfully, docile for the time being.

“Charlie, would you stop laughing at your sister? I don’t see what’s so funny about her,” Molly scolded, finally having quite enough of your brother’s behavior.

“Nothing’s funny,” he said with a hint of a smile.

Bill was looking at him with his eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you know?” he asked suspiciously.

“What do you know?” Charlie replied, just as skeptical.

“I think the better question is, what does dad know about muggles?” You laughed nervously, getting weird looks from Ron and the twins. “Come on, dad. Why don’t you tell us about your latest case?”

Your father looked up from his meal, looking surprised, for he had hardly been acknowledged since the start of dinner. “Oh, well, we had an odd couple in the other day. They were the sort who didn’t really look like they belonged together. So, anywho, they-“

“Hold on,” Ginny interjected. “How do you know they didn’t belong together? There are loads of couples who you might not think belong together, but actually do, so it’s best not to judge before you know the whole story.”

Your dad looked confused. “Um, I guess they just didn’t seem compatible, but I’m sure they belong together just fine, Gin, no need to worry about that.”

As he continued with his story about this couple and their illegally enchanted carpet, you turned to glare at Ginny.

She gave you a rather obvious look of annoyance, which gained the attention of Fred and George.

“Something’s going on here, Freddie,” said George, leaning to his right.

“Agreed,” said George, looking around the table.

You actually heard Harry gulp beside you. You put a hand on his knee, attempting to comfort him. This action made him choke on the sip of water he had taken.

“All right there, Harry?” Ron asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry coughed. “Just fine.”

Percy cleared his throat. “Maybe he has something to say.”

“Percy, don’t be rude,” your mother scolded. “The boy’s just choked.”

“Yeah, Percy, don’t know why you’d think he wants to say something,” Ginny said. “So, keep your mouth shut.”

None of the siblings who knew had known that others at the table were also aware, but they were each starting to connect the dots.

“Can I just have a nice Christmas Eve dinner with my family?” Molly slammed one hand on the table. “Enough of the fighting and the strange comments. Please, just be normal.”

Fred grinned. “I can’t imagine what’s abnormal about us.”

“Oh, me neither. But you, Freddie, are abnormal looking,” George followed.

The rest of the night after dinner was just as stressful. You and your siblings were sitting around the living room, with the exception of Percy, who, to your immense relief, had gone back to his room for work.

Fred and George decided it would be a good idea to play a game of truth or dare with the assistance of some veritaserum they nicked from Snape’s stores the day before holiday began.

Needless to say, you and Harry were not excited.

“Hermione,” Fred said. “Truth or dare?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as George made a gesture that suggested she should choose truth. “Dare,” she said.

“I dare you to go outside and kiss one of the gnomes.”

“A gnome, Fred? Really?” Ron scoffed.

“You’d rather she kissed you, would you?” George teased.

Ronsaid nothing, but his ears turned red, giving him away.

Hermione’s face turned a similar shade as she stood up from the armchair. “Fine, then.”

You all collectively gathered around the window and watched Hermione stalk outside and grab one of the ugly gnomes by its bald head. She made a disgusted face and gave the gnome a peck so fast that you barely saw it.

She came back inside and washed her mouth out in the sink before returning to the chair. “George,” she said coolly. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth, of course!” George said happily. “We’ve got to put our stolen goods to good use.”

“It was very wrong of you to take Professor Snape’s materials,” Hermione said, frowning. “Is it true that you were the ones who gave Ron amortentia spiked chocolates last month?”

“Yes,” George said easily.

Ron scoffed loudly. “You told me that wasn’t you! You said it was her! I was following Lavender Brown around for weeks because of those!”

“Well, we hadn’t meant for you to go for her. It was supposed to be someone else.” George winked at Hermione.

“We messed up the potion,” explained Fred.

George looked to you. “Truth or dare?” he asked.

“Truth,” you said mindlessly, thinking about Hermione and the gnome. You noticed the alarmed look Harry was giving you and realized your mistake. Damn gnome.

George grinned mischievously. “Do you really have a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” you said unwillingly.

A gasp from Ron could be heard from the other side of the room. Ginny and Hermione were looking rather nervous for you. On the contrary, Bill and Charlie were quite amused.

“Tell us, who is he?” Fred continued off of George.

“Harry Potter,” you admitted before slapping a hand across your mouth.

An even louder gasp could be heard from Ron that caused Charlie to burst out laughing. Fred and George were looking rather pleased with themselves. You supposed that was better than them pranking the life out of Harry for dating their sister, which you had expected to happen.

Harry sat on the couch with his hands clenched at his sides, looking at the floor as his whole face turned red.

“My sister, Harry? Really?” Ron said, his voice carrying a mixture of anger and betrayal.

“Yeah, well, I love her,” Harry said, fully dropping his head into his palms. He definitely hadn’t meant to say that to everyone in the room. “I hate this damn potion.”

“The heart wants what it wants, Freddie,” said George.

“It sure does, Georgie,” Fred said, clasping his hands together over his chest.

“Honestly, this is a Christmas miracle,” Hermione burst out. “I’ve been covering for you for months. Four, horrible, long months.”

“Four months?” Ron said, bewildered. “Hermione, you knew and you never told me?”

“Oh, please, Ronald. If you opened your eyes you would’ve seen what was going on,” Hermione said.

“Easy for you to say, you’re bloody brilliant. You could spot anything off. I love that about you,” Ron confessed.

Bill and Charlie were wheezing on the floor at this point.

“This is the gift that keeps on giving!” Fred exclaimed.

“I’m so happy we played this game,” George said through laughs.

Hermione stood, cheeks burning. “We should all go to bed. It’s Christmas tomorrow.” She went up the stairs quickly. Ron seemed to have forgotten all about you and Harry and followed her.

Your other four brothers slowly made their way upstairs, practically dying from laughter at your expense.

Ginny stood awkwardly, bidding you and Harry goodnight and leaving you alone in the room.

“That could’ve gone worse,” you said, finally making eye contact with Harry, who was still looking a little red.

“I, for one, didn’t fancy confessing my love for you to your whole family,” Harry said, scooting over to your spot on the couch.

“I did.” You grinned, leaning towards him. He rolled his eyes, but indulged you anyways, letting his lips touch yours.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” you whispered against him. “I love you, too.”

[gukkie01]

Pair: Racer! Jungkook x Police officer! Fem reader

Rating/Genre: 18+, smut (little to no plot), humour (I tried but failed again 😐)

Words count: 5 649

Warning: explicit content, oral sex (F receiving), semi-public sex (I guess??), penetrative sex, vaginal sex, jungkook is a very very hot racer, fingering, car sex, sassy Y/n, dirty talking, unprotected sex (pls don’t be dumb like them)

Summary: Y/n was starting to get bored of being a police officer. She needed the thrill. Thank god, Jeon Jungkook was there to help her.

Note: very much liked writing this one. It was inspired by a book I read on wattpad (that I forgot the name of :/) but I switched the roles and decided Y/n was going to be the police officer 👍. Hope you guys enjoy this one! Sorry for any typos :(

💞 quick little reminder that comments and likes are appreciated 🥹. Enjoy! 💞

Can’t Catch Me

Being a police officer was not your dream anymore. For the solemn reasons that it was boring as hell. Nothing like in the movies. There weren’t any arresting criminals and interfering in mafia cartels and saving the day.

No. It was sorting documents and sometimes, if you were lucky enough, arresting cars. But where was the thrill in that? The excitement?

Sitting down behind a desk clearly wasn’t saving anyone or helping in that case. It was just making phone calls, watching some people here and then to make sure they didn’t leave. You never had to interrogate anyone. You didn’t even have your opportunity at playing the mean cop!

Because there was no doubt that you would’ve been the mean cop. You let no one step over you or cross any boundaries.

So yeah, being a cop or police officer if you would, was not thrilling at all. It was a shitty job that paid just enough so you could survive the month. Just enough. In the end, you always had to ask yourself if it was even worth it. And most of the time, your answer ended up being no, not at all.

Your superior was not even—

Speaking of, you suddenly received a phone call from him. Picking up, you cleared your throat, trying to sound as professional and calm and cool as possible. “Y/n,” he said and shifted a little. “I need you in my office. Now.” He ended the call, not giving the slightest bit of details.

But you were used to that. Didn’t make it less annoying though.

With an exasperated sigh that earned a few amused glares from your coworkers, you got up and made your way to your boss’s office down a little hall. Three knocks and a barely audible ‘come in’ later, you were sitting down in front of him, Mr. Kang or Monkey Face as you liked to call him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow and shifting to the edge of your chair. Were you in trouble? You couldn’t see how that was possible. How could sitting all day bring you in trouble?

Monkey Face, without once letting his eyes divert from his laptop, clicked his tongue. “I’m assigning you to a new route,” was all he said, typing away on his laptop and munching on his gum a little too loudly for your taste.

“What? Where?” The idea of finally leaving this hell of a place brought interest into your features as you wiggled more on the edge of your chair. It was embarrassing really. It wasn’t like you were arresting criminals but at least, you were going to be outside, arresting cars.

Give or take. And you decided to take.

“Route 30. You can go now.”

So, apparently, route 30 ended up being more of a stretch of highway rather than an actual route. By the time the moon set, you saw two cars, and they were exasperatedly slow. But there was no one else behind so you let it pass.

You were sitting inside your car, radio playing but you paid it no mind. It was just nice having some background noises that stopped you from falling asleep although let’s just say it wasn’t doing its job right.

When you glanced outside, the sky was pitch black; no stars, no moon. It was like someone purposely painted it black. It made the outside much darker and duller.

You sighed and decided to exit your car. Take some fresh air. You stood outside, kicking rocks with your boots and after some time, you even started playing soccer against yourself.

But you quickly got bored once again.

It turned out that being assigned to patrol a road was worse than you thought. Sitting in your car, switching the radio multiple times until you’d get so frustrated you would just shut it.

At one point, you got so bored you were on the verge of tears. Which was pathetic but true.

You started singing off-tune to a song that you vaguely remembered, singing as loud as you could before that too would become boring.

And that was when the universe heard your wishes.

Your ears perked up at the ramble of an engine, far in the distance but no doubt getting nearer pretty fast. Too fast. With your heart thumping almost loudly, you buckled your seatbelt and waited until the roaring got closer and closer and you finally saw it.

It flew past you so quickly it was like it was never there in the first place. You flicked on your lights as well as your sirens and started the car, following as closely as you could.

It was hard. Whatever car it was surely surpassed your own speed. And if it didn’t slow down any time soon, you’d lose sight of them eventually.

They made a turn to the left so quickly that you almost couldn’t follow. Your car had been on the verge of driving off the road. You weren’t really on the highway anymore but more on a small route hidden by immense trees.

You were breathless and nervous but driving that fast was the biggest thrill of your entire life and it was so liberating.

Finally, the car decelerated soon after, swerving into the side and parking swiftly. With how fast it had initially been going, you were impressed with how smooth it parked. Whoever it was behind the steering wheel, they were clearly experienced.

Slowly, all the while trying not to make a fool of yourself, you pulled up behind the bright neon blue car. You stepped out and approached the vehicul, taking in deep breaths. Be cool, be cool.

You knocked on the window three times before it slid down and goddamn it—

Your heart literally stopped beating for a fraction of a second when your gaze met a pair of doe eyes. Your own trailed lower until it stopped at a particular shiny object on the driver’s face. A lip piercing.

For a moment, you completely forgot what you were here for, too dazed by the same piercing being bitten and played with. You shook your head, regaining your composure. Or more like tried to.

Question number one.

“Do you know how fast you were driving?” You asked, trying to muster the scariest voice you could. His pierced eyebrow raised up and he smiled innocently. He had this little bunny smile that made you giddy despite trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry officer, I wasn’t paying attention.” He was amused. It was clear in the way his eyes twinkled and the mocking tone of his so fucking deep voice. You gulped a lump in your throat, trying with all your might not to look at any of his piercings and maintain your professionalism.

Question number two.

“License and registration?” You managed to ask without stuttering and the driver reached into the glove box compartment and handed you his papers.

You glanced down at them, letting your eyes trail along the information.

Jeon Jungkook. Born September 1st, 1997. He was a year older than you. His hair in the picture of his license was shorter and lighter. More like a soft brown whereas now, it was almost black. You didn’t know why you were even paying attention to that. You didn’t deign a look at his registration papers and gave them back to him.

He arched an eyebrow, clearly finding the whole situation amusing and to his advantage. He must have known just how much he had an effect on you right now.

Your inner thoughts consisted of:

I’m gonna get fired

But he’s so hot, I don’t care

I wish he could take me right here, right now

I am so getting fired.

Jungkook’s smooth husky voice quickly pulled you out of your thoughts. It was kind of funny how your heart dropped at how deep and soft his voice sounded. There was this little witty and sarcastic tone behind it.

“Aren’t you supposed to use these?” He asked, wiggling his license and registration in his hands. It was then that your eyes caught the tattoos hiding every inch of his skin. It was covering a big part of his hands and went up under his sleeve and you found yourself wanting to see more. You needed to see his entire full sleeve tattoo.

You cleared your throat, the air around you thickening by the seconds. You wondered if you were the only one feeling it. The tension. The want. The desire. Maybe it was only your brain playing tricks on you. Telling you that Jungkook’s eyes definitely trailed down your body, mentally undressing you.

Yeah, your mind was clearly playing tricks. Maybe it was his little grin tugging at the corner of his lips or his sweet cologne that made your brain alter like that. Surely, he had done something to you.

After a couple of seconds, you realized you still hadn’t answered him. You straightened up, flattening your hand on the top of his car, glancing down at him with what you hoped was your most serious glare. “I’ll let you off with a warning, Jungkook.” It was a little strange saying his name out loud, but you quickly found out that you liked it. A lot.

“But I better not see you here again or it’s a ticket,” you continued and saw his smile widening.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ok, your mind was definitely going a little crazy. You had just seen Jungkook sending a little wink your way. You probably imagined it. Yeah, it was all your brain.

He gave a little nod and started his engine once again. It roared loud and hoarsely and you had to admit that it was nice to the ears. You took a step back and watched as Jungkook drove away, ignoring your words from mere moments ago and going fast.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You had told Jungkook to never come back here but deep inside, you wished to see him again.

A week later, the job didn’t get better. If possible, it probably got worse. You hadn’t arrested one single car yet and all you did was sleep in your car. You knew that if your boss found out, he’d surely fire you and it would be over. He was paying you to work, not sleep. That would be his words.

You sighed for the millionth time this afternoon, whistling along the song playing on the radio. The sun wasn’t bright today. Your mood was down.

The radio was on as per usual and you could hear some of your coworkers communicating with each other, wishing you could do the same. You had nothing to say, nothing to warn. Today was pretty boring.

But then again, someone seemed to have heard you and a loud roar could be heard at the far end of the highway. Your heart thumped loudly and you felt your chest vibrate. Finally. You felt a smile curve up your lips as you turned your car on just as a vehicle flashed before your eyes.

You quickly drove away from behind the small bushes you were once parked at and started your pursuit. But it was quickly over. The car parked on the side road after a short while and you did the same a couple of meters behind. You stood outside your car, looking around quickly before jogging and knocking against the tinted window.

“Do you know how— Jesus! You?”

Fucking hell. Of course it was him. Jeon Jungkook. You should have known by the unique rambling of his motor and at the speed he went earlier. You should have known since the start. This job was seriously making you lose some brain cells.

Jungkook grinned. It was a little devilish and teasing and smug. He leaned on the inside of his door, looking up at you. Fuck. He had dimples.

“Hi to you too, officer…” his eyes trailed down to your badge, “Y/n.” The way your name rolled off his tongue so well made you shiver. His voice had gone an octave lower. It had that little rasp to it that almost made you drool. You secretly wished you could hear it right to your ears.

Just the thought of it gave you goosebumps.

“Jungkook, it’s the second time I catch you exceeding the speed limit. I have no other choice but to give you a ticket this time.”

You didn’t really want to. If you could, you’d let him off with another warning that would actually never get anywhere. He was too pretty to have a ticket. Too fucking perfect.

Jungkook’s wicked grin didn’t falter once even after your words. If it made sense, it seemed to only get wider. Was he finding this entire situation funny? It made your blood slightly boil. You felt like you were getting laughed at. Humiliated maybe. But there was also this little feeling, this tightness at the pit of your stomach when Jungkook got closer.

His cologne hit your strong and gosh, you wanted to breathe it forever. Bath in it. It smelled so good on him.

“Is there a way I could pay? I don’t have money right now.” His tone was suggestive and it took you a while before you got the proper meaning behind his words. And to say that you were shook was an understatement. You choked on nothing, face flushed and so warm, it was embarrassing.

Jungkook didn’t miss the way you suddenly avoided even looking at him, focusing on his steering wheel instead. You heard a low chuckle that shouldn’t have sounded this good. It shouldn’t have made your knees slightly fold.

Jungkook was an attractive man. You couldn’t deny it and it was pretty hard to miss. It was also hard not to stare at his piercings, at his pink lips that looked so soft or at the tattoos that were much more visible than last time. They peeked from his white top and reached the middle of his neck. They were simply magnificent. You wanted to let your fingers run along each of his tattoos.

But even with his fucking god-like appearance, you had to stop yourself from even thinking of further things about him. It was not professional to let your brain wander at these places.

So, in other words, you were a little too close to taking his offer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have a week to pay, so if you don’t have the money on you right now, it’s no worries.” You replied, mentally high-fiving yourself for keeping your cool.

Jungkook shifted closer, and the tip of his index grazed your arm. It was covered with your uniform but it still sent a wave of fire through your entire body. “But I would really like to pay now. I have something better than money.”

Shit.

Fuck.

No, no no.

He shouldn’t have said that. You were on the verge of saying ‘yes’. On the verge of letting him take you right here, in the middle of the highway. His words were very powerful and from the way his eyebrow arched, he knew it.

“Do you know what you’re implying right now, Jeon?”

Something in his eyes twinkled when you said his last name. He smirked. Literally smirked. “I know that very well, officer. So, what do you say?”

Oh my god.

You couldn’t say yes, even with how much your heart—or more like your cunt— begged for you to accept his offer. But that would only bring you trouble. You didn’t need that.

“I say we’re going straight to the station, Jungkook. Come out.” His smug expression dropped for a moment, and you saw how disappointed he was. Maybe he thought that his sexiness and his pretty voice and pretty tattoos and piercings would have saved him, and it almost did. But you had to remember that you were the mean cop.

He sighed and opened his door, standing up in front of you.

You breath hitched when you realized how easily he was towering over you. He looked so intimidating from this angle, you almost dropped to your knees. It was then that you realized he was wearing a white top that was so tight you saw the entire shape of his pecs. He had a racer vest on top—blue with black lines and his name written on the back.

He looked at you for a second, toying with his lip piercing before eventually turning around and putting his hands behind his back.

“You know officer, it seemed like you were ready to take my offer. What made you change your mind?” So cocky. His ego was so big and normally it would piss you off, but with Jungkook, it was almost like a part of his charm.

“Stop talking,” you ordered in your most stern voice although it only made him chuckle. You unclipped the handcuffs from your uniform, ready to wrap them around his wrists.

“So bossy. I like it.” You swallowed on nothing over and over again, losing focus. The more he talked, the more you were overthinking. You wanted to push him in his car and let him fuck you.

“Jungkook, I said stop talking.”

“You like having control, hm? I bet you’d love to control me, even for just a few minutes…” And then, well, you kind of snapped.

You handcuffed his wrists together harshly, your fast movements making him take a sharp breath. You turned him around, slightly pinning him to his car door. “I told you to stop talking. You’re only bringing yourself further into trouble,” your voice was simply a mere whisper directed to his face. Jungkook bit his lips, bowing his upper body to reach your level.

“One thing you should know: I love trouble,” he said and his voice was suave and smooth and warm on the side of your face. His knee touched your crotch and he pushed it between your legs. You sucked in a long breath and let out a muffled moan.

Well shit. You were doomed. Because now, you couldn’t stop thinking about how his knee felt so good pressed against your pussy and how much his cock would be even better.

“Seems like you’re enjoying yourself,” he commented, looking down at your lower half grinding on his knees. He pushed it up more and added some pressure to your core. You were wet. Wetter than you’d been in a while and all because of a little asshole named Jungkook. He had his proud face on, enjoying the way your face darkened in a deep shade of pink and the way you obviously shook. He knew you wanted to go further.

“Remove those handcuffs, sweetie.” He said suddenly and his face was dark, serious and so dominant. You really couldn’t say no to that face.

So you nodded, taking out a key from your front pocket, fumbling with it clumsily until the handcuffs were off and Jungkook’s hands found their way on your waist.

He didn’t wrap his arms around you. He simply let you feel his hands for a while, getting used to the burning feeling they left even on top of your entire uniform. It tickled as if he touched you straight through your clothes, right on your skin. Thinking about it, you were dying for some skin to skin contact. To touch his tattoos while he was pleasing you.

Jungkook’s eyes were staring straight into yours. You knew right then that he had been thinking about that moment for a while now and to say that it turned you on was an understatement.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep eye contact without failing but it was hard. His stare was deep and intense and the way he continually licked his lips made it difficult to keep your eyes up there. They looked so soft.

You briefly wondered how they tasted before Jungkook’s voice interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Are you gonna stare at them longer before you finally kiss me?” You hated how his voice made your inside wiggle and giddy and your heartbeat accelerate.

You hesitated, on the tip of your toes. You were so nervous. And Jungkook seemed to catch in, as with a wide grin, he plunged down, lips crashing against your, and teeth colliding. His cold lip piercing touched the corner of your lips and made you gasp.

He snorted into the kiss, this time, wrapping his arms entirely around your waist and exchanging your positions. You were the one pinned on his car. And quite honestly, you liked this position way more.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the moment you knocked on my window.” His sudden confession stole the air out of you. Just like you, he had been waiting to touch you and feel you up.

Fucking butterflies. You hated how they swam in your stomach and made it difficult to keep up with the kissing without feeling like you would pass out. Jungkook was a good kisser. Scratch that, he was fucking amazing. He moved his lips with expertise against yours.

You guys weren’t really taking your time but you still enjoyed it very much. They way it was heated and impatient and filled with want made it all the more exciting.

You wanted him so bad.

“Let’s take this further in the car, hm?” He mumbled against your lips, struggling to open the car in the position you were both in, but after a while, you were swiftly thrown in the back seat.

Jungkook hovered over you like a scary predator ready to attack and eat its prey. And you were very glad to be his prey.

His right hand lifted up and stopped at your cheek, letting his thumb rub over the softness of your skin. He was in literal awe as he let his eyes trail around every feature of your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to ruin you.”

If it wasn’t hot enough, it became too much. You were sweating, desperate to get out of your clothes and let the AC of the car wrap around you. And even more desperate to get Jungkook to fuck you.

Jungkook’s rough hands explored every inch of your upper body until he got tired of your clothes. He sat you up and as fast as he could, succeeded in removing the top of your uniform. His eyes twinkled as if he was a kid that just received his favorite toy for his birthday.

You let him touch you everywhere, he squeezed and massaged your breast until you were whimpering. He pinched your nipples, earning multiple cries from you. He seemed to love every second of it, considering the smile—worth probably a million of dollars—plastered on his face.

He didn’t linger on your breasts too much, though. You could see in the way his fingers always found themselves at the waistband of your pants, that he was more excited about what was down there.

He looked up at you, stopping his hands that were ready to slip off the last item of clothing (except your panties) covering your body.

“Can I remove them?” He asked and it warmed your heart that he remembered to ask you before going any further. You gave him a shy nod and kept in your breath when the cold air hit your lower body, more specifically, your inner thighs.

Jungkook’s hands covered your skin almost immediately. His nails slightly scratched your skin as he ran his fingers up and down your entire legs. But his eyes were stuck on the wet patch on your panties.

“Aren’t you a little excited, huh? Soaked even when I barely even started.”

You moaned. It was a small moan that was more due to your embarrassment and your need for him to touch you, combined together.

It was music to Jungkook’s ears.

He let his finger push on your clothed core, breathing in loudly when he felt the dampness. And then he slipped his fingers in your panties without any second thoughts or any warning.

He settled on rubbing his middle finger on your clit, looking up every now and then at the way your face contorted in pleasure. You were moaning continuously, asking him for more but he wouldn’t give it.

Jungkook loved teasing you and even though you barely knew him at all, that information was pretty obvious from the way he enjoyed slipping in snarky little remarks from the first moment you saw him. He loved how your face became red instantly, how you avoided his eyes. He felt so confident around you.

You liked the tease. You liked feeling on edge every time his fingers almost entered your pussy but then he’d move them away.

“Be patient, babe. You’ll get what you want soon enough.”

Babe. You wanted to hear him say that again on repeat.

“Jungkook,” you mumbled with closed eyes, internally screaming when he avoided your hole again, “I need more. Please.”

He chuckled, stopping the motion of his fingers. “Look at you begging for me. I should have known you’d be an impatient little slut.”

You whined at his choice of words. Dirty talking never failed in turning you on, although it was clear that it depended from who.

And it seemed to fit Jungkook very well.

“Please,” you asked again, not even caring how pathetic you sounded.

“Aw, you’re asking so nicely.” He slipped one finger in and you involuntarily arched your back. “So good for me, so tight too.” Another finger. “Are you gonna come from just my fingers?” A third digit, this time, curling inside.

The stretch hurted a bit. But it was good. It felt so amazing. It only added onto the pleasure and after a while, it wasn’t even uncomfortable anymore.

Jungkook’s eyes were plastered on your pussy and the way you swallowed his fingers so well. You were so wet, it dripped down your inner thighs. He kept biting and licking his lips, moving his head down by the seconds.

And then you understood what he wanted to do so bad. He wanted to eat you out.

“Do it,” you told him, wiggling and pushing yourself closer to him, his fingers hitting a particular spot that had a little yelp come out of you.

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows, slowing down his fingers. You straightened up a little bit and took his wrist, pulling his three digits out of you. “I know what you wanna do. Eat me out. Please.”

He swallowed and nodded, pushing you further in the back seat and against the door. He properly positioned himself between your legs, tapping on your right thigh. “Open up,” he signaled, pulling them even more apart until you were wide open in front of him.

He licked his lips and plunged his head right in your crotch. Locks of his hair fell on your thighs, tickling you and making shivers run up your entire body. And then his tongue touched you. So warm. So soft. So pleasurable.

He licked the lips at first before slipping his tongue inside, grunting. He had mumbled something but with his face between your legs, the words came out muffled and unclear.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking good. Please don’t stop.” He dug his fingers in your thighs to keep them apart. He thrusted his tongue in and out of your cunt, sometimes, keeping it in deep, filling up all the right places, grazing all the right spots until you were wiggling, and legs wrapping around his face, bucking your head up.

He let you do it. Let you suffocate his face until your juice rolled down his mouth and he pulled himself away. White liquid covered his lips and something in your belly tightened at the sight.

It was so obscene but so hot. You pulled him by his vest to smash your lips on his and taste yourself. He slipped off his vest in the process, tearing down his top and struggling out of his black baggy pants, his boots already off.

He was left in those Calvin Klein sinful briefs that allowed you to see is bulge and fuck, he was big. Perfect length and thickness and that had you drooling literally. You wanted to touch every inch of his body. He was perfectly sculpted.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good, babe. Can’t wait to fuck you into oblivion.” He whispered in your ear and let you remove his boxers until his cock sprung free and stood proudly.

You were astonished and couldn’t tear your eyes away. You were never one to find dicks beautiful, but with Jungkook, you could stare at it and a suck it all day.

But not right now. There were more important matters. Like your desperation to have his cock fuck you.

“Jungkook, I need it inside. Please.”

Jungkook couldn’t get enough of your begging. He wanted to go as far as recording it and jerking himself off at night.

He aligned himself right in front of your entrance and looked up at you. “Are you okay? I really want to fuck the shit out of you but if you changed your mind—“

You cut him off with your finger, grinning at him. “I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life. So please, do it already.” Jungkook’s face brightened up at your response. He liked how you had shut him up and ordered him.

You pushed yourself against his cock just as he began slipping it in slowly, groaning and snuggling his face in the crook of your neck, biting right under your jaw.

“Oh my fucking god, I won’t last long,” he mumbled, sucking in multiple sharp breaths. One of his hands was holding himself beside your head and the other was wrapped around you, securing you in his grasp.

When Jungkook was fully in, he stayed still for a couple of seconds, enjoying the way your walls were so warm and perfectly wrapped around his cock. But then, he slowly slipped out until the head of his dick was at your rim and slammed back in. “Oh fuck—”. You bucked your hips up, meeting his thrust and letting out a scraped moan along with Jungkook’s groan.

“If I knew it was this good,” you started but cut yourself off when he picked up his pace, squeezing your flesh, “I would’ve accepted your offer from the beginning.”

He chuckled, looking down attentively as his cock disappeared in and out of your pussy, being soaked with your slick. It was warm and it drove Jungkook crazy. He wanted to stay inside forever.

“Well, I wanted to fuck you the moment I laid my eyes on you,” he admitted and slowed down his thrusts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion until Jungkook flipped you over and you were straddling him. From this position, everything felt so different. He felt so much deeper, as if you could feel him with your hands if you touched your belly.

He gripped your hips tightly to the point when it almost hurted and glanced up at you. “Ride me like the naughty little slut you are, hm?” His voice was so hoarse compared to earlier, and so much more seductive and his sinful words rolled off his tongue in a way you found so satisfying.

You nodded and wrapped your hands around his neck. As you bounced up and down, your breasts followed the rhythm and they were practically jumping in Jungkook’s face, basically calling out to him to suck on them.

Which he ended up doing, letting go of your hips and licking, biting and squeezing the sensitive skin of your chest. He marked your entire cleavage until he was happy at how dark and red it looked.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, earning a strangle moan out of you two and then a moan from Jungkook when you clenched again.

“Is my little slut already so close?”

“Y-yes. It’s so good, I can’t hold it in much longer.” His hands grasped your waist and slid you down his cock until it was buried so deep, you couldn’t find the voice in you to make a sound. He was fucking you so well.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl. I think you deserve to come.” He mumbled, moving his head closer to yours and nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Please, Jungkook. I want to come so bad. Please please.”

“Fuck, begging like that, I don’t think I can last longer too.”

His words made you keep going, bouncing on his length over and over again to the point where you reached some overstimulation, shaking violently in his arms.

Your voice was loud and the only word that was heard was Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook.

Your cum ran down his length, to his thighs and made his skin glisten in white. Your head was dizzy and your eyes hazed as you glanced down at Jungkook. Your stomach kept tightening every time he moved his hips upward.

He came no longer after, slamming you down his cock and keeping you there for a long moment, moaning how good you were and how hot you looked.

You leaned on his chest after a moment, catching your breath although it proved to be a difficult task. Your lungs felt empty, devoid of any air. But it was fine because you had just been fucked by Jeon Jungkook. And it was the best sex of your life.

After Jungkook regained his composure, he wrapped his arms around you and looked up. One of your hands was running along his tattoos and the other was busy, combed in his sticky hair. Jungkook was a fucking piece of art.

“So,” he started, pushing a few locks of hair away from your face, “Do I still need to pay for that ticket?”

“Heck yeah.”

[cindol]

cotton candy princess and her peppermint knight

gojo satoru x black fem reader

tw + — semi rushed , two timeskips, smut, more plot than smut, onomatopoeia used, candyland fantasy au ,

cw + — reader has a nightmare before, reader has a wet dream , reader and gojo having a past fling is mentioned , candyland fantasy au , slightly ooc, satoru’s hair is white with red highlights, gojo has a slight personality switch in the later half, gojo calls reader princess teasingly, gojo is a full human,

syn — reader helps his dear princess when she wakes up from a very detailed dream,

a / n 🍭 : had one hand on the phone and the other on my hoohah .

back to candyland . ​divider creds : @ / anitalenia

17+ ( but I can’t control anybody’s fingers so beware . )

When nanami wasn’t there gojo was for your lonley nights in the kingdom. He knew your frequent nightmares and he thought this would be one of those nights. Sitting outside of your door on guard for you tonight.

On this particular sunday knight while just fooling around on patrol outside of your room he heard you finally make a concerning noise made him jump up and open your doors.

You were there in your bed sitting up, your eyes wide, pink jello bonnet off, your pink cotton candy fro showing and you breathing heavily in a frightened state.

gojo ran over to you immediately coming to your aid. “Princess?! Are you alright?” His blue eyes were as wide and his aquamarine pupils small. If this was a different scenario he’d joke on you but now was not this time as your personal knight.

Seeing him come to your comfort made your heart beat relax. You coughed, clearing your throat. “I-I…- I think I’m fine, just a nightmare.”

gojo made a small chuckle, not at your feelings but just how he could relate.“know that all too, some monster came in your dreams or something?” He half joked now sitting on the edge of your bed.

His small quip got a smile on your face, joking in a serious situation was inappropriate but gojo knew just the perfect timing.

“Worse but I wouldn’t want them to bore that bjg head of yours.” your jest was more of you wanting to really not worry gojo, you knew how he wouldn’t keep quiet and tell the closest person to you that worries enough.

He whirred, scratching his white hair and the red highlights in them. He badly wanted to press the issue further but he knew just how you were and left it alone.

Still, he pouted at your little quip but played.“aw.. just when I wanted to fill this big head of mine with some juicy information.”

You made some small tittering at that.“wellll.. could use my good buddy as my personal body pillow, don’t think you mind do you? Not that you’ve ever mind the other nights…” the last part you murmured but that was loud and clear to gojo making him now grin like a Cheshire Cat.

“Oh? So now I’ve resorted from now the friend you fuck to your personal plushie.”

See, unbeknownst to nanami or anybody else you and gojo’s had such a good princess and knight relationship because you two had such a history of having a fling and such. You wouldn’t dare to announce this fling to the public because only god knows how terrifying the public spectacle would be. Nanami should know of this but you just wouldn’t.

“Just get that shiny peppermint armor off and join me in bed you ass.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice.

You woke up again. This time from a very detailed dream about your friend gojo right next to you. You couldn’t help but just sit looking at his gorgeous face, it was rare to see him in just his white t-shirt instead of his white and red scented armor. His hair was messy with one strand of his red highlighted hair sticking up and light snoring.

On one hand you wanted to just let your knight sleep for once but on the other hand, your pussy just had to want attention after that vivid dream.

And you would unfortunately listen to the thing between your legs.

You thought gojo would be pissed that he had to be waken up just from you being needy but gojo wasn’t a normal man, he could be just as lustful as you and for you.

It didn’t take any convincing to get gojo to coax the aching warm feeling between your legs. Matter a fact he actually took action to put your leg on his shoulders to feast better.

When you looked down at him he had a toothy grin on his handsome face then did a tsking sound looking at your cunt.“tsk.. if it was this big a problem you should’ve woke me up a little while ago.” His tone was so cocking just tapping at your brown thighs that were on his shoulders.

a slight blush was on your cheeks at his almost teasing tone.“I’m not so hungry for it as you satoru, I can pace myself.”

“And yet you woke me up with your pretty face in my view.” You didn’t have any good bite back to that and just turned your face waiting for him.

He took you by surprise when his licking your cunt went from soft and slow to fast and him sucking your clit and holding onto your thighs more with his hands.

You gasped at how he was eating and licking at your box like he was starving for it as if he didn’t eat for days.

You couldn’t make out any words but sounds of moans and babbling while you looked for a loc of his hair to grab onto and pull for some comfort against him eating you out with such hunger.

“Mmph satoru! Please!” you didn’t know what you were begging for, just something to make him slow down but that just made him giggle and stop making you whine.

No amount of your whines and unintelligible babbles stopped him though. He was a knight, when you told him what you needed he was getting the job done.

While still munching and licking at you like a dinner plate his blue eyes met yours for one moment.

splat !

There was silence from gojo while he swallowed what cum you splattered on his tongue, an embarrassed look on your face then his boisterous laugh.

[shinynewboots]

The Alchemy: Adam x AFAB Morningstar!reader Part 2

AN: Hello all! Thank you so much for all the love and support you have given this story!! Once again want to give a special shoutout to @jennieyeager for the wonderful prompt! I do apologize for the wait. I had a lot of different directions I wanted to go and this was the final project. With that being said:

Confession time: I definitely think this is going to be longer than 4 parts! I kept trying to condense this as best I could but these two idiots really took the plot and ran with it so I hope y'all are ready!

Warnings: 18+ eventually, somewhat dubious consent, language, Adam-typical misogyny

Part 1

The clock on your arm was ticking quickly, time moving at a faster pace than you could fathom. You had made the executive decision to not tell Charlie about your arrangement with Adam until it was too late for her to stop it. A cowardly move, perhaps, but you knew she would try and talk you out of it if she sensed even the smallest hint of hesitation in your decision. 

And there was some hesitation. To leave everything you had ever known to marry this man who had only ever been the boogie man of your nightmares? But you thought of Charlie and her mission and dreams and you knew the answer could only ever be yes. 

There was another part of you, a part that you weren’t completely ready to acknowledge, that was curious and intrigued. No one ever chose you first. Ever. And yet this mythic being upon first glance knew that he wanted you. Now maybe it was the slight resemblance you bore to your mother or desire for his weird revenge but it was still you that he had chosen. That had to mean something, right?

So you left a note for Charlie to find once she finally realized you were missing. 

Charlie,

I’m okay. Please don’t come after me. I went with Adam, the leader of the exorcists. He promised in exchange for me, he would stop the exterminations and give your hotel a shot. Please, Char, I had to do this for you. For us. For…everyone. Please don’t tell Dad, though I doubt he would answer your calls anyway. Please don’t do anything rash. I will try and contact you when I can. I love you. Y/N.

The embassy looked more foreboding than it ever had. The building almost looked like an eyesore along the skyline. Almost too perfect to be seen amongst the squabble of Hell. You glanced down at your watch: 0:05.

Five minutes until your life changed forever. 

You trekked through the embassy, the rooms were just as quiet and dark as when you and Charlie were here only 24 hours earlier. You finally made it back to the meeting room where you had met Adam originally. Light streamed through the cracks in the door and you knew he was there. Another glance down at your watch: 0:02. 

There was no use in waiting for the clock to strike midnight. For your carriage to turn into a pumpkin. It was inevitable, so why put it off? Sighing, you opened the door. 

You looked around the room and only saw Adam, his feet on the table, and leaned back in one of the boardroom chairs, a golden guitar in his hands.. He wasn’t wearing his mask so you got a good view of his human features. He also wasn’t wearing his white and purple robe and instead wore a simple black cotton t-shirt and blue jeans. 

There was no one else present, not even his loyal exorcist from the first meeting. Adam was strumming the guitar, his eyes closed, and his expression was peaceful. 

You glanced down at your watch. 0:01.

You cleared your throat to alert Adam of your presence. The gentle melodies from the guitar came to an abrupt stop and you were suddenly face to face with Adam, who had flown to you with such a speed that you still couldn’t wrap your head around. 

“Hey Babe, good choice.” He said, smirking and taking in your appearance. You found your eyes drawn to his lips and the memory of his smoldering kiss only 24 hours early. My, how much can change. Adam seemed to notice because his smirk became a hungry grin and revealed to you his sharp canines. You found yourself so distracted that you missed his question.

“Hard Candy?” He asked again, holding a small wrapped cherry-hard candy in your line of sight. You looked at him, your eyebrows scrunched. 

“Uh, sure. It’s not poison, is it?” You joked, giving a very Charlie-esque awkward smile. 

“Nah, babe. It's for the travel. You ever portal-traveled before?”

You shook your head. 

“Thought so. Don’t want you puking on me or anything once we get there. This should help.”

You nodded and went to grab the candy from his hand. He had other ideas. He unwrapped the candy himself and held it out in front of your lips. You involuntarily took in a deep breath and could once more taste his kiss from even the subtle scent of the candy. 

“Open,” He whispered and you did just that. He placed the cherry candy on your tongue and it took everything in you not to unravel. To forget your arrangement and to try and find out if his kiss was just as sweet and flavorful as the hard candy that now sat on your tongue. Instead, you chose to swirl the candy in your mouth, the juices emitting their pleasant sweet tang. 

“Thanks,” You breathed out, not trusting yourself with any more expression of language than that measly word. 

“It’s fucking good, right?” 

“Yeah, I, uh, wouldn’t expect anything less from a candy from heaven.”

Adam shook his head. “Nah, that's not from Heaven. They don’t get the cherry flavor right. That’s from Earth.” 

“Oh,” You said lamely, trying to locate this special cherry flavor Adam seemed to enjoy. You wouldn’t call yourself a candy connoisseur but at least now you knew one more thing about your soon-to-be husband: His hard candy preference. 

“You ready to go?” Adam asked, holding out his large hand for your grab. 

“You promise that you’re going to stop the exterminations? And give my sister’s hotel a shot at redeeming sinners?” You asked, just needing one last verbal confirmation that you weren’t making a mistake. You could have tried to hold him to a deal but he was an angel. An angel, who despite being a villain in your parent’s history, had done nothing to conceal his true intentions as far as you knew. And you always felt icky making deals. The idea of owning a soul? Could you even own an angel’s soul?

Adam grinned in a way that could only be described as shark-like, his canines glittering in the light. He held a hand over his heart as if to further prove sincerity. “I promise to do everything in my power to stop the exterminations and give your sister’s stupid hotel a shot.”

You breathed a deep sigh and nodded. You gave him your hand and he squeezed it in a surprisingly gentle manner. His hand was calloused, surprising you as you thought all heavenly things were perfect. But his hand was rough and weathered and worked (especially his fingers, which you attributed to his years of guitar). 

A portal suddenly opened in the wall and you got your first glimpse at the Pearly Gates of Heaven. It was even more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. A piece of your heart began to ache. Charlie should be here to see this.

Adam pulled you forward. 

“Close your eyes,” He whispered, his mouth dangerously close to your ear and warm breath tickling you. “And hold on to me.”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with wonder and a little disappointment that you couldn’t take in the sight before you for even a moment longer. 

“Trust me, the first trip’s the worst.” He said, and suddenly he pulled you to his side. His body was warm and softer than you had imagined. You closed your eyes tight. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you even tighter to his side. You heard the flap of his wings and suddenly you felt weightless as the ground beneath your feet ceased to be. You could feel yourself flying higher and higher until…

You felt a rush of air and a glorious sun shining on your face. You felt as though the universe had taken you by the belly button and was pulling you closer to it. Your stomach began to flip and you were very grateful for the candy, as the flavor was helping to settle your nausea, at least for a little bit. 

The sensation was lessening and you felt your feet hit solid ground. You hesitantly opened your eyes and were immediately met with various cameras shoved in your face.Angels, winners, and Cherubs crowded around you and Adam. Your mouth had run dry and you couldn’t think. Lights flashed and you felt yourself melding closer into Adam’s side.

“PRINCESS! PRINCESS! Care for a comment?”

“Princess! Over here! How did you manage to get Heaven’s most eligible bachelor to lower his standards to a Hell Born like yourself?”

“Hey Fuckers, get the fuck off my lawn!” Adam growled.

“YOU HEARD HIM, FUCK OFF!” You heard someone else yell. You looked over to see the same Exorcist angel (Lute?) that had been with Adam at the meeting yesterday. She had a menacing grin on the face of her mask and had a spear pointed at all the reporters. Adam gave her a nod which she returned (after she speared through a camera cherub was holding). 

 Adam decided to act quickly since Lute could only hold off so many reports and so he used his wing to shield you and make a path up to the house. You mirrored his footsteps, though you couldn’t take in the world around you due to his wing. Finally you made it inside Adam’s house and were able to take a free breath. 

“Fuck,” Adam cursed. “Fuck Babe, I’m sorry. I don’t know how they found out.” 

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You could still hear the reporters outside but chose to not let it bother you (well, it would bother you at least a little. You had never been one for the spotlight).

“It’s okay. It’s fine,” You said softly, placing a hand on his arm. He looked over at you with curious eyes and you felt your heart stop. And then you felt yourself accidentally swallow the cherry candy. You immediately began to cough and choke as the candy slid down your windpipe.

Adam’s eyes widened in shock and fear. He ran up behind you and began to push on your stomach in a pitiful attempt at the heimlich maneuver. Fortunately, you weren’t solely reliant on him to save your life, and you coughed up the remaining cherry red candy. A sliver of what it had been when you had been given it early. Really Sexy Princess Morningstar, real sexy.

Adam must have been relieved when you stopped choking, at least enough to make a joke. “Fuck Babe, don’t choke again unless its because of me.”

Ah, there was the asshole you had originally met. You had let his kind, sexy gestures fool, but the asshole was still there. 

You scowled at him and began to look around the house. It was a modest house, the perfect size for one or two people. Cleaner than you expected too. You had honestly expected trash and leftover food to be strewn around the house, but you were pleasantly surprised. 

A sound at the front door caused you to jump and you looked to see Lute entering, an irritated look on her face. Adam walked over to her, his hand up to give her a high-five which she begrudgingly returned.

“Thanks Bitch, I don’t know how those fucking reporters found out.”

“You made a bit of a spectacle of yourself, Sir. Apparently one of the Saints let it slip that you requested the Hell Spawn.” Lute said, eyeing you with disgust. The feeling was mutual and you could feel your demon form bubbling under the surface, your eyes beginning to turn a reddish color.

“Fucking Peter,” Adam scowled. He glanced over at you and seemed to feel the irritation seeping from your pores. “Babe, she doesn’t mean it.” 

“Yes I do.”

“Yes she does.” You said, crossing your arms and stepping closer to Adam. 

You and Lute glared at each other. 

“Okay, okay ladies reel it in. Lute, you’re a real one. I fucking appreciate it. Just let the girls know I won’t be at training for a few days while I get Y/N settled.”

“Of course sir. Hell Spawn.” She said, nodding at Adam and then you. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Bigoted Cunt,” You responded, giving her a just as condescending nod. Lute bristled but one look from Adam and she quietly slipped out the door. 

Adam turned to you, suddenly more sheepish than you had seen him in the past 24 hours. He rubbed a hand behind his neck. “So, uh, I only have 1 bedroom. I mean I have more rooms, I just haven’t had a chance to get more beds or anything. So I put your suitcase in my bedroom.”

You know, this is the part of the story where the main character gets nervous. Worries that her very sexy, very annoying husband-to-be is going to ravish her and take advantage. Her mouth would run dry and her palms would get sweaty. Only one bed? Give me a break. 

But you weren’t the main character in the trashy romance novel and he certainly wasn't the main love interest material. And you could make do with the idea that maybe living in a romance trope. And he seemed sheepish enough that it was genuine. 

So instead of doing as you would if you had been the same person you had been in Hell, only a few hours before, you decided to draw on some newfound confidence. You closed the distance between yourself and Adam and looked up at him, a coy smile on your features. “Lead the way.”

This seemed to him, as his features brightened up considerably and he grabbed your hand to guide you to the bedroom. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and you could feel your nerve breaking the longer you walked with Adam. 

When you entered his bedroom, you were surprised to find it to be rather plain. Very few features had been added to the space to make it homey aside from a guitar propped against one of the nightstands. Not a picture or painting or any decor to be seen. Like the rest of the house, it was shockingly clean. On the bed, your forgotten suitcase sat. 

“I’ll leave you to get settled. I'll grab some wine or beer or whatever you drink down below.” Adam said, motioning towards you to begin unpacking your suitcase. You smiled at him, feeling as though you were seeing the real Adam already in the few moments of insecurity he had let shine through. 

“Wine is good.” You said. He nodded and made to move towards the door before stopping and turning back to you. He stood in front of you, his golden eyes meeting your own before they looked lower at your lips. Emboldened, you licked your top lip slowly and looked at his own before devilishly looking back at his eyes. 

His large hands cupped your cheeks and suddenly his lips were on yours. Your senses were once again overwhelmed with that delicious taste of cherry hard candy. Feeling more and more impish, you licked the seam between his lips, a soft request. 

Adam responded in kind and opened his mouth, tongue meeting your own and licking in a controlled, hard manner. Your hands found their way into his hair and tangled in his soft brown locks. One of Adam’s hands left your cheeks and snaked its way down to your waist, pulling you closer. His large hand cupped your hip and squeezed with a firm pressure that sent a pleasant chill up your spine. His body felt so warm against your own and you could feel your resolve weakening. 

(But would it be so bad if it did?)

You reluctantly pulled away from him, your lips missing the feel of his against your own. His cheeks were flushed and his golden eyes were bright and alert. 

“I uh, I should unpack,” You whispered, untangling your hands from his hands. Adam nodded, though you weren’t sure he heard you. 

He coughed awkwardly and you tried to avert your eyes when he tried to discreetly ‘adjust’ himself. “I’ll go get the wine.”

“I’ll unpack,” You replied, mentally kicking yourself for the repetition. You nervously brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. Adam nodded once more and left the room, leaving you alone.

You sighed and tried to calm your breathing. You unzipped your suitcase and smiled forlornly at the picture that sat on top of your clothes. It was a picture of you, Charlie and your parents. You and Charlie were children, grinning wildly at the camera. 

You folded the picture so it just showed the two of you. You placed the picture on what appeared to be the unoccupied side of the bed and continued to unpack.

Tags: @jennieyeager @tati-the-fangirl @alastorswifeee @randomgurl2326 @marxo5 @dragovegogrimborn @ella-janehaven @honestlyshamelesskid @miniaturetalent @klorinda @turtle3586 @naniiiii12 @belladonnadeath

[ihavethedreamies]

Cherry | Juicy Fruit | Haechan

Lee Donghyuck (Haechan - NCT Dream)

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~2.2k

Pairing: Haechan x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Couch Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: It all started with a cherry stem…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, but as you can see by the word count, that didn't happen.

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

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🍉 Mark 🍉

🍇 Renjun 🍇

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"Do cherries come from the same trees as the flowers?" Your boyfriend was holding one of the red fruits by the stem. It spun back and forth in the air with prompting from his finger tips, another one being chewed in his mouth. You could hear the pit clacking against his teeth as he sucked it clean.

"I don't think so…" You wondered what prompted the question, only briefly glancing up from your phone at him. You were sitting at your kitchen table to eat. You had been looking over the different delivery menus, spread across the surface and you were scrolling through your phone to see who was open. Not only was it past normal meal hours, which was normally not too much of an issue, it was some kind of political holiday that only old people cared about. The only problem was that most of the people that would make the food you wanted were said old people. It was also more of something for families, not young couples who did a lot of the baby-making practice but with not desired end product.

"Okay, this place is only open for fifteen more minutes so they're out." You took the noodle menu off the table, placing it on the discard stack.

"Anything else look good or do we need to go to the convenience store?" You asked and when he didn't reply, you slammed your hand down to get his attention. He startled and his wide eyes were really very cute, but you would never admit it out loud, even in private with just him. While you loved him to pieces, you were very reluctant to voice it. After trying to say he was annoying for so many years, you were loath to admit you didn't hate him. You never did, you were just in denial about how much you liked him despite your harsh words. He saw through it.

"Donghyuck!" You scolded and he blinked.

"What?" He emphasized the vowel, and you rolled your eyes. His shocked face softened to a smug grin as he watched you watch him put the next cherry in his mouth, the other pit still in his cheek. His tongue wrapped around the red orb as he took it between his lips, and you shook your head to pull your attention away. He huffed in amusement, you were such a tsundere.

"What are we having for supper? I only got snacks and stuff…" You poked the container holding the cherries. You had planned on eating out or getting delivery, but the stupid holiday interfered with your regular Saturday night plans.

"We could have each other." Donghyuck smirked, chewing the last bits of fruit off the pit before rolling the two around his open mouth playfully. He knew your eyes were not just on his face, but specifically his tongue. You swallowed hard and your eyebrows furrowed, mouth open to scold him again. He let the pits fall out of his mouth and onto the paper plate where the rest of them laid and his smug look turned bored.

"Idiot." You clicked your tongue, face pink, "I need actual food."

"Hm, you might, but I could just eat you?" He winked and your let out a disgusted grunt, getting up from the table and moving to leave the apartment and head down the street.

"(Y/N), wait!" He cooed at you, skipping to follow you. When you started to wiggle your foot to slip it into your sneaker, he kneeled down to tie his. You struggled to get the shoe on without untying it, so he leaned forward to help you get them on. The sweet gesture made your cheeks warm further, but you didn't say anything, so he helped you get the other on. He stood back up with a hop, still taller than you even though he was standing on the lowered part of the floor by the door.

"Ready, milady~?" He held his arm out for you to link with, but you just mumbled something and walked past him and out. Your boyfriend sighed dramatically but followed after you still. You always made up for your dismissive behavior after he railed you into the next morning, turning affectionate and playful. He continued to try and seduce you through the not subtle act of aegyo, and you kept shoving him away, especially as you walked down the road. Donghyuck held the door open for you as you entered the convenience store. The inside was just as dead as the streets, and it felt nearly surreal. You each shopped around a bit, and he got nearly twice as much food as you, and for some reason he felt the need to buy everything he could find that was cherry flavored.

"You know none of this stuff tastes like actual cherries, right?" you asked, watching him place the different candies and sweets down. The only thing you would actually consume was the cherry flavored cola he got as well.

"I know. That's what the actual cherries are for." He pointed out like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Not wanting to admit it even in your own head, the blank look he gave you was just as cute as everything else he did. It pissed you off a bit that he was so endearing. The tired cashier told you your price and your boyfriend had his card in the reader before you could even pull yours out. He took all of the bags as well and you opened the door for him that time.

"Did you need to buy all of that?" You grumbled, eyeing the five bags he was carrying.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Curiosity." He answered after donning a pondering look.

"Okay." You rolled your eyes, not caring enough to delve further into that line of questioning.

"Did you get everything cherry flavored?"

"Not everything…"

"What did you leave behind, cough syrup?"

"The condoms." He stated simply and you halted for a beat, then jogged to catch up.

"Why not?" You finally relented to ask. He tossed you a coy look, "they didn't have the right size." You halted a step but conceded his point and jogged to catch back up. When you finally got back to the apartment, he put the bags on the coffee table, and you grabbed your meal to heat it up in the microwave. As you plugged in the numbers, Hyuck came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle.

"What?" you asked flatly, and he whined pathetically, resting his cheek on the side of your head.

"Can't I hug my girlfriend?" You didn't reply to his question, so he took that as the go ahead to continue. As he smelled your food as it got done, he realized how famished he was and hurried to make his own. Some random variety show played on the TV while you both ate, he devoured twice as much food as you did in nearly half the time. Once you were both done and everything was cleaned up, he laid out all the cherry candies and snacks, as well as some real ones.

"We shall judge them for quality." He motioned broadly and you sat next to him at the coffee table. Hyuck was a bit surprised at how close you willingly sat, pressed to his side. You were warming up. You started to sort through them, pushing the ones you refused to try to the side.

"You need to have the full picture to make an informed decision." He told you with false condescension. He sniffed and picked up the first packet to rip it open. The fake cherry scent hit your nose and you sneered, reaching over the table to grab a real one. As you chewed, he started in on the candy and his face twisted, putting the bag down and grabbing a fruit himself. You pulled the pit from your mouth and set it on your napkin from supper and he did the same.

"Can you tie a knot with your tongue?" He held up one of the stems and you hummed.

"I don't know, I haven't tried." You took it from him, and he plucked another one off a cherry for himself.

"Let's see who can do it faster." He decided and you nodded in agreement and you both watched the other as you took the stems into your mouths. You focused hard, trying to maneuver the little piece with your tongue into the right configuration, but it was no use. When you almost choked on it, you pulled it out, nose crinkled.

"Nope." You turned to look at him and he stuck his tongue out at you, the tied stem resting on the surface

"How the heck!?" You grabbed the little stem from where it laid, looking it over.

"Want me to show you?" His tone had deepened, but you were too confused to register it.

"Yeah!" You turned to watch, not expecting his mouth to connect to yours. Your shocked inhalation allowed his tongue entry and you wanted to fight, but you also really didn't. Hyuck smirked into the kiss as you let out a tiny mewl, expertly twisting his tongue around yours. You moaned when he led you to straddle his lap, pushing the coffee table away with his foot. When you settled, his hands on your hips pushed you down, grinding your covered cunt over his hard cock. You whined, trying to pull back, but he held you still, sucking on your tongue so you couldn't easily pull back. He had a hard time not laughing when your entire body shuddered. Finally, he let you go, you leaned back, panting hard.

"Fucking hell-" Your fingers were clenching the fabric of his sweatshirt.

"I can do more than that~" He hummed playfully, and you blinked, "huh?" Your noise of question was followed by a yelp as he lifted you, setting you on the couch behind him, turning to he faced you. Another tug brought your butt to the edge of the cushion, and he took advantage of your surprise to yank your shorts and panties off without hinderance.

"H-Hyuck~!" You whimpered when he instantly brought his skillful tongue to your cunt, wriggling it inside, nose hitting your clit. You sighed shakily, legs twitching when he hummed, the vibration ringing through him to you.

"Wait-" You tried to get him to stop, extremely embarrassed at your position and feeling weird about how fast he was bringing you to climax. You shuddered again as his tongue left your core, stroking up through your folds to flick your clit. Your eyes were closed, so you didn't see his stupid grin right before he sucked on your clit hard. Hyuck's hands flew to your hips to hold them down as you came, helping you ride it out.

"Too bad I can't pop your cherry…" He mumbled, a little embarrassed at his stupid pun. You huffed in disbelief, having heard him perfectly fine even though he kind of hid it.

"Doesn't fucking matter, get inside me-" he had never heard you so impatient, but he was more than willing to abide. He removed your top as you helped him get rid of his own clothes, and your back barely hit the couch cushions before he was pressing into you. Even if you hadn't just came on his tongue, you were soaking wet, your gummy walls clenching desperately to his cock.

"Aw~ sweet girl~" He huffed in delight as your cunt quivered, getting used to the stretch and before you were fully acclimated, he started to move.

"Wait, Hyuck!" Your hands grabbed his shoulders. When he leaned over you move, he took your hands from him, holding them above your head with one of his. His lips hovered over yours, hips rolling slowly but hard, fat cock battering your back wall. You practically cried when he kissed you again, tongue reentering your mouth to capture yours. You were helpless under him, sanity quickly leaving between his cock in your cunt and his tongue down your throat. When air was getting a bit low, he finally removed his mouth from yours, moving it to your jaw and down the column of your throat. You whimpered with each thrust, getting steadily faster and harder as he sucked your skin. His goal was to make the hickeys are red as the cherries you both had been eating earlier.

"Hyuck, I~" You couldn't get the rest of your sentence out. His hand had let go of your wrists, both of them going to your waist so he could shift positions. He sat back up move, hiking your hips up to arch your back and after an extremely practiced and hard thrust, he chuckled as you came again. He groaned at the tight flutter of your walls and couldn't help but fall over the edge himself. You whimpered when he finally let your legs and hips relax, not pulling out of you yet. With a tired gaze, you watched him reach and grab a bottle you hadn't noticed before from the coffee table, barely within reach. He popped the cap on the red container, an equally red substance spilling out and dripping over your skin. You shivered at the cold, and he licked his lips.

"Hmm… cherry flavored (Y/N)~"

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Master-Master List

NCT Master List

[slowd1ving]

ACT IV: DECAY ✦ . 　⁺ VIL SCHOENHEIT NSFW

Vil Schoenheit and second place aren't supposed to be a thing. He's supposed to be the very embodiment of perfection, so why the hell is someone else's name usurping his crown on the Potions leader board? In which our starring actor cannot quench the flames of academic rivalry and resentment that consume him, nor can he fathom the enigma that you are. gn! scientist! reader warnings: contains nsfw but only later, angst with a happy ending, spoilers for book five, canon-compliant violence

TWISTED WONDERLAND MASTERLIST

BREACH THE IMMEASURABLE CHASM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

PREVIOUS PART ✧ ･

Scene I: Ink . 　⁺

It all starts again on a very dull morning. Staccato beats of the rain on the rickety windows of Ramshackle provide background music for Vil to drink his smoothie to. Except that’s not the only miserable music. His ears are assaulted by the conversation you’re currently having with Jamil, Rook and Ace. Does Grim count when he’s technically the other pea in your miserable pod?

“All I’m saying is that there’s no reason to make a movie series that long,” you argue. Whose movies are you referring to? Vil wishes he was paying attention earlier. “Like what have you got to say for that many movies?”

“Trickster, some people are just dedicated to the pursuit of their passion,” Rook intercedes, leaning his head on his hands to gaze at you more efficiently.

“The Fast and Furious franchise has no reason to be that long,” you lament, frustration creeping into your tone. Vil’s never heard of that movie series. He doesn’t think he wants to know what it is.

“Rook, there’s like nine sequels, and the last one especially does not make any sense,” Vil takes back his earlier thoughts. This seems to be a conversation between you and Rook, in which Ace and Jamil are unenthusiastic spectators. “There’s nothing less beautiful than plot holes.”

“Anyways,” you continue in the same breath, all hints of sadness gone. Vil’s not sure whether to be annoyed or impressed. “Do you guys feel ready for the SDC tomorrow? Your routine is really impressive.”

“My bones hurt so much,” Ace groans from behind his food. “I’ve never felt so pulverised.”

“We will win,” Jamil promises you, fiddling with his spoon on the table. You give them both a cheerful thumbs up while eating - for once, you’ve got scraps of decorum.

“I will put on my most beautiful performance knowing you’re watching, mon cher,” Rook clasps your hand between his gloved ones. Sure, Rook’s probably just being himself, but Vil can’t help the trickle of unease that he feels.

“I don’t doubt it,” you respond with a grin. “Those RSA twerps won’t know what hit them. Although, I’ve had a really weird set of dream-”

“Spudling,” Vil clears his throat to get your attention. You turn to face him, still wearing your jubilant grin. His heart almost stops. It takes all he can to not fumble while taking the lanyard out of his blazer pocket. “Keep this lanyard safe so you can come backstage as the NRC Tribe Manager.”

“Cool,” you take it one handed, still allowing Rook to clasp your other hand. Why does Vil care so much? He tries desperately to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “Thanks!”

“We’ll go over the routine and iron out any wrinkles in around twenty minutes,” Vil continues, meeting the eyes of each cast member. He’ll just have to ignore whatever he’s feeling until after the SDC. “Make sure the rest of the potatoes are up and ready to go.”

The tell-tale signs of nervousness creep into Vil’s being after he exits the room. He has to beat Neige. No longer will he be cast aside to play the villain. The world will see what he’s got to offer.

“Mira mira, tell me who, at this moment, is the fairest of them all?” Vil speaks slowly and quietly to his phone as he makes his way to his room to get some items for practice.

“Neige LeBlanche.”

He should’ve expected it, really, but he cannot help but let his teeth grind slightly in anger. Just you wait, Neige. He’ll beat Neige fair and square. Finally, he’ll be able to step out of the villain’s shoes.

His muscles ache after his gruelling training. Nothing he won’t be able to recover from; he can’t help but push himself to his limits at the prospect of beating Neige. The rest of the crew somehow manages to execute a near-flawless performance, with only a few minor hand-placement errors.

“Wow,” you cheer them on by your designated spot next to the speakers, cradling Grim in your lap. “You guys are absolutely gonna shred the competition.”

“That’s right!” Ace grins at you, catching the water bottle you toss at him and taking a few enthusiastic swigs.

“Pass me one too,” Deuce reaches out as you toss another water bottle. It’s a natural cue for a break, and the crew decides to take a breather. Vil feels an absurd surge of pride at the sight; somehow, these ungainly tubers have managed to grow into shapely potatoes who can no doubt beat Neige.

“We’ll regroup in ten,” Vil instructs. He’s not satisfied completely, but the passion that’s been poured into this routine is undeniable. Before he can question his body, his legs are already taking him to you. You’re scratching behind Grim’s ears and look up in abject surprise at his approach.

“I need your opinion,” Vil murmurs, leaning down to you so your faces are in close proximity. You furrow your brows; he knows how unlikely it is that he’s approached you. Still, your analysis skills are seriously impressive. “Can you give me a detailed observation of our performance? Spare no detail.”

“Right,” you pull out your phone nonchalantly, scrolling through your gallery until you find the recording of the practice. Of course you’ve come prepared.

“Right at the beginning it’s a really strong start, but as soon as those first few seconds are up, Deuce always misplaces his hand-” Vil’s not sure when he joins you on the floor, leaning ever so slightly into you as you zoom into the areas of imperfection.

“You’ve noticed that too?” Vil comments. You murmur your assent, pressing play again.

“It’s only a slight error, but yeah,” you continue, pausing the video again where it’s Kalim’s misstep. “I think it’s just overeagerness and the adrenaline of performing. The rest of the errors are really just minor hiccups with the singing - but I won’t be able to point them out as well.”

“I’ll give them some extra individual instruction,” Vil promises, more to remind himself than reassure you. You turn to scrutinise him; it’s not like he’s unfamiliar with the weight of people’s gazes, but it’s just you.

“I’ve made notes on the small, consistent screw-ups that’ve surfaced recently when it comes to dance steps. Rook and Jamil are both fine, and Epel only has one,” your shoulder brushes against him as you turn extra carefully to not disturb the snoozing Grim on your lap. You hand him your class notebook, which has been filled with quick sketches of the mistakes. Vil’s eyes widen considerably at the level of diligence you’ve afforded your role. Sure, he knows your eye for detail in science, but he never thought-

“You can borrow it for a bit,” you turn the page to show him the notes you’ve made. Then suddenly you flip back to the previous page.

“I forgot you won’t be able to read them,” you sigh in exasperation. “All that work for nothing.”

Vil is oddly touched. You’ve made extensive notes just for him? He can feel the gesture warm his cheeks as he stares down at the outreached notebook, waiting for him to take it.

“The thought is appreciated,” he thanks you, carefully placing your notebook within his lap. He’s lucky the diagrams are circled with different colours marking out areas of weakness, or he’s sure he’d get lost trying to read through the scribbled notes right next to them.

“I can always just read them out if you need me too,” you lean back on one palm, balancing your body weight as you scritch under Grim’s chin. As much as the little furball wants to deny it, he’s very clearly got the mannerisms of a cat as a large purr rumbles from him. You stifle a little giggle into your shoulder.

“That- that would be great,” it’s so unlike Vil to get flustered, but he can’t help the smile that stays on his face well into the remainder of the practice.

He can’t seem to hold onto whatever hatred he had for you.

Scene II: Rot . 　⁺

The next time he sees your face is around ten minutes before the dress rehearsal on the SDC stage. Vil can feel his already straight posture adjust itself so it’s completely perfect, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Rook, given the look the hunter shoots him. He’s ignoring that.

“They almost didn’t let me in,” you complain, striding over to Rook and waving the lanyard that’s around your neck. Vil’s not sure how they could’ve missed it, with it being what can only be described as a neon red.

“It’s good to see you regardless, mon chou,” Rook is once again clasping your hands, and once again you’re not pulling away.

“I’m going to ignore that you’ve just called me a cabbage,” you comment, looking around at the stage. The little furball that’s normally with you is nowhere to be found; Vil isn’t sure whether to be relieved that he isn’t wreaking havoc here, or whether to be worried that he’s wreaking havoc elsewhere. “Where do I sit while watching?”

“There’s actually the front seats directly next to the stage,” Vil points to the special row reserved for managers and important personnel. You unhook your hands from Rook’s to turn to where Vil’s pointing, your eyes lighting up as you see the comfortable looking chairs set up.

“Right, thanks,” you flash an extremely brief smile at both of them. It seems that whatever rivalry you had with him has been dissolved on your end. He doesn’t know if he should be insulted or happy about it. “Break both legs for both performances.”

“What?” Vil mutters to himself as you stride away enthusiastically. Maybe it’s just a saying from wherever you’re from. It’s ‘break an arm’ for performances, what are you on about? “What could that possibly mean?”

“Mr. Shoenheit, we’re about to go on air to tape your practice performance,” a cameraman apologetically interrupts Vil’s musings. He snaps to attention, letting his face fall back into the most professional poker face he can manage.

“Of course, I’ll get the NRC Tribe into formation,” Vil responds smoothly, waving the rest of the crew to the front of the stage. It only takes a minute; they’re clearly enthusiastic (if not a bit nervous) to perform in front of people who aren’t you and Grim. Deep breaths. A wave of resounding calm flows through him; it’s a lucid state he’s perfected before each and every performance.

The first notes of the rhythmic song start. His eyes unfocus slightly, allowing his muscle memory to take control for the most part. It’s now just a matter of pouring his emotions into the song and dance to truly capture the hearts of those watching. The flow. The haze. It all becomes a part of him, and he knows the rest of those dancing up on stage with him can feel it. Surely they feel the connection of their passion?

He meets your eyes, your wide, enraptured eyes as you gaze at him. He doesn’t fully realise, but the words he sings are for your ears for now. Let this be dedicated to you, and he can worry later about sharing the passion he feels with the rest of the spectators. Vil’s not emotionally stupid; he can tell his feelings have veered into territory that he simply doesn’t want to acknowledge yet. He just has to let them flow into his performance and worry about the rest later.

His mind is deliciously clear, enjoying the endorphins pumping through his blood at the pleasant stretch of movement. It’s already halfway done? The altered passage of time when he’s in the zone is always a surprise. From your excited grin, he can safely assume this performance is one, if not the, best they’ve given. And it’s all for you to watch, before it’s posted for the world to see.

Raucous applause disrupts his flow as the cameras are cut with a signal from the camera crew. You’re standing and clapping your hands with some serious force as you join them up on stage.

“Almost moved me to tears,” you joke, congratulating them on a flawless performance. “Seriously though, you guys are ready.”

You don’t need to say anymore. You stand back to give them space, but Vil watches in dawning horror as you bump into the one and only Neige LeBlanche. It’s only a mild shoulder bump, but it’s happened. The two of you have made contact.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologise profusely, taking a big step back. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.”

“It’s fine, really,” Neige smiles at you, sickeningly sweet. Beside Vil, the NRC dance crew members look at you with incredulity. Why are you so goddamn oblivious? “I shouldn’t have approached this way.”

“If you’re sure,” you trail off, noting the weird looks directed your way by Ace and Deuce. “What the hell are you guys gawking at?

Before Vil can say anything, you’re already being yanked away by Ace’s insistent tugging. Your brows are still furrowed. Goddamn. Have you really never heard of Neige LeBlanche?

It seems Ace is interrogating you with that very question, judging by the furrowed glances he sends both your way and Neige’s. It seems Neige is quick to mask his surprise, walking towards Vil (which was probably the whole reason he approached the group in the first place).

“Your group was amazing,” Neige gushes - his eyes are lit up with awe. Vil feels… nothing, eerily enough. All that’s coursing through him is malicious calm.

“Thank you,” he maintains the professional image easily and smoothly, not missing the way Kalim and Deuce’s eyes swivel between him and Neige.

“It was truly a sight to behold; I had chills just watching,” Neige continues with starry eyes. “I can’t wait to work with you again!”

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Vil muses calmly, letting the air of conversation fizzle out. Out of his peripherals, he spots you and Ace rejoin the group. Unfortunately, it seems Neige has also spotted you again; he shoots you a smile and turns to you.

“Hi, I didn’t catch your name earlier,” Neige’s innocent question leads you to a quick pause before introducing yourself. You’re not overly friendly, more like care-free as usual.

“I didn’t catch your name either, sorry,” you continue politely. Did Trappola wander off-topic while lecturing you? It clearly seemed like it from your slightly bewildered expression.

“Neige LeBlanche, at your service,” Neige’s eyes carry that stupefied look for only a second before it’s swiftly replaced by a cheery smile. Nothing. Vil suppresses a snort of laughter at your politely unknowing expression. Of course you’d be like this, meeting the arguably most famous person in the land with no respect for their importance.

“Cool, I’ll leave you guys to it,” you respond amiably, sending a thumbs up his way. You’ve just upped and left? Vil turns to the side slightly to stifle his laughter as you wander back to the seats where you’ve left your notebook. Utterly lacking proper conversation etiquette as usual. He supposes it’s a positive seeing the Neige LeBlanche seemingly at a loss for words.

“Was that NRC’s manager?” Neige asks Vil. With dawning horror, Vil realises that most of his crew is also standing at the first row with you, due to their practice slot being finished.

“Yes,” Vil responds succinctly, watching Neige watch your movements as you talk with Rook. You’re currently being rattled like a rag-doll with the way he’s clasping your shoulders and shaking you slightly, no doubt grilling you over how you didn’t know who Neige was. He can hear your raucous laughter from all the way on stage.

“Your manager this year is awesome,” Neige compliments, leaning forward slightly to see the action further. Vil suppresses the shudder of disgust. No way this is happening right now.

“Ah, I’ve got to go round up my own crew,” Neige comments distractedly, looking around him. Vil gladly takes this opportunity to take his leave to join the rest of his group, leaving nothing behind but a goodbye.

That bastard. Vil watches the concluding moves of the RSA crew’s performance with barely concealed disgust from his seat in the stands.

“We’ve been had,” he utters in shock. No way. That bumbling performance they’ve put on-

“What do you mean?” Kalim asks in dismay at Vil’s change in attitude.

“He’s right,” Jamil agrees with a heavy sigh. “Look at how much they’re appealing to all demographics with their sugary sweet performance.”

Deep resentment begins to fester within Vil. A familiar ringing noise fills his ears as he tunes out the chatter of everyone surrounding him. He almost doesn’t feel the way he slips out of his seat and down the stairs leading to the rooms within the colossal arena. He feels the pressure of a heavy glass bottle within the palm of his hand, not even having to look at it to know it’s one of Epel’s apple juice bottles. He’s only dimly aware of subconsciously infusing the drink with the same curse he used during the poison assessment.

May those who drink this fall into an endless slumber, Fairest One.

The comforting bubbling slosh of the drink lets him know it’s been tampered with. A small, rational part of his brain urges him not to do this; the rest of his body is consumed by an abyss of disgust and hatred. Gunpowder and other acrid chemical smells appear in wisps, only registering faintly as familiar with his nose. He ignores it all.

“Hi, Neige,” Vil smiles brightly at the youth in front of one of the backstage doors. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your wonderful performance.”

One heartbeat.

Neige turns at the sound of Vil’s uncharacteristically cheerful voice. He doesn’t suspect anything amiss, but Vil supposes he’s always been that way.

“It makes me really happy hearing that from someone I admire a lot,” Neige beams back. Perfect.

Two heartbeats.

“How about a drink? I’ve become rather partial to this brand of apple juice,” Vil’s smile is rehearsed; it’s absolutely oozing with venom.

“Sure!” Neige agrees enthusiastically. “I saw the brand on your Magicam a few weeks back - I was even going to order before I realised it had all sold out.”

Three heartbeats is all it takes to deceive him.

It’s quite ironic, isn’t it? Vil’s downfall has been secured by Neige over the course of his life, whereas Neige’s downfall will be brought about in only a few seconds. The smooth glass of the apple juice bottle does not reveal the curse roiling within. It’s perfect - scentless, colourless and lethal. He wants to laugh when Neige accepts the cool glass bottle so easily. Has he no sense of danger?

“Roi des Neiges!” Who does that voice belong to? With a start, Vil turns to see Rook’s slightly dishevelled form as he runs up to Neige. “My apologies for interrupting the two of you, but the staff were looking for you, Neige.”

“Roi des Neiges..” Neige’s voice trails away as he stares contemplatively at Rook. “Wait-”

“My, I’m absolutely parched after running around looking for you,” Rook swiftly takes charge of the conversation. Why now? Vil can feel sharp cracking within his very soul. “Might I trouble you to let me have some of that refreshing juice you hold?”

No.

“Of course,” Neige agrees enthusiastically, if not a little perplexed.

“You should hurry back, Neige,” Rook continues, taking the bottle offered kindly. “And do not come back here.”

“Huh? What do you-”

“Go on, off with you! Away!” Neige’s question is sharply cut off by Rook’s insistence. Vil can hear him scurry off, like a little rodent.

“That sweet, tart aroma,” Rook breathes. With a start of horror, Vil notices that the cork of the flask has been removed. “Truly.. Epel’s hometown beverage is magnifique, to say the least.”

“I shall drink it to the very last drop, Roi des Poisons,” his knowing gaze meets Vil’s stricken one as he slowly raises the bottle to his lips.

No.

“Don’t do it, Rook!”

Glass shattering. It’s all Vil can do to keep track of what’s happening. His head feels like it’s underwater.

“He used his signature spell to curse the apple juice!” It’s the same speaker from earlier. Kalim?

“-look on his face was the same as Jamil’s-”

“-lost control-”

“Rook,” Vil’s voice rasps. He’s not sure he made the conscious decision to speak. The hunter turns to him with eyes not holding anger or disappointment, but concern. “Why did you..?”

“I wanted to believe in you,” Rook holds his gaze with no traces of accusation. “If it was cursed, I still wanted to taste it. I wanted to taste the fruit of a poison derived from an obsession with beauty bordering on madness.”

Madness?

Vil tunes them all out. He’s dimly aware of you speaking in concerned, hushed tones to the rest of them. Why are you here as well?

“Vil, do you have any idea how foolish that was?” Kalim’s voice is rimmed with desperate emotions. “After all that work, after saying the other teams would look like spuds compared to us, why stoop to this?”

Why stoop to this? Can’t he see that there is no other way? Rage pummels his veins, ripping through his body, his mind, his soul. Something gathers within him, dark and inky and fatal.

“That’s what I want to know,” Vil’s voice is laced with ice, and pure venom. “I’ve come to a realisation. That I… can never win! I’m going to handle Neige myself.”

“Trickster, Kalim! Do not inhale that mist rising from the floor! It’s the evaporated form of that cursed liquid!” Rook’s urging has hints of desperation within it. He turns to Vil. “I don’t see why one glass would have such a drastic… Oh, Vil, you didn’t-”

“Stop looking at me with those eyes,” Vil pleads. It’s not just Rook, he can see you as well, looking at him with that gaze that makes him want to bury himself away. “I just wanted to be the fairest, so why? Why? Why am I so ugly?”

“Roi des Poisons, you are far from ugly,” Rook calls out to him, reaching out a hand. Vil longs to take it, but he can’t. He’s too far gone.

“You haven’t actually hurt anyone!” Kalim’s pleas fall on uncaring ears.

“Silence!” Vil’s voice snaps. He can almost see himself from a separate plane, mist rising up around him in acrid, poisonous billows. He can see you, swaying on your feet slightly, looking more shaky than your companions. “What do any of you know? What does it matter if any of you forgive me? I can’t forgive myself!”

Let go.

Dark streaks overcome his vision, ebbing and flowing along the edges. It would be nice, to hand over the reins for a while, wouldn’t it? To let go of his fury, his resentment, his jealousy. What a dream.

“If I just melt everyone into hideous messes,” Vil’s barely aware of speaking. It’s a rather distorted voice, isn’t it? He can’t help but laugh. “Then I’ll be the fairest one of all, won’t I?”

The last thing he sees before it all overcomes him is your stricken face. He’s not sure you’ve ever worn such an expression before. He’s unlikely to forget those eyes, your facial muscles contorting into a painting of intermingling horror and worry. Why does he feel that shame rising again?

Didn’t he let go already?

Scene III: Wake . 　⁺

“I was the villain bullying the hero in the last play, too. Why do I keep getting picked to play the bad guy? Do I really look that mean?”

Villains never stay on stage for the whole play. Once their role is finished, all they can do is watch from the shadows as the happy ending plays out. What I want is to stay on stage longer than anyone else.

“Those kids were trying to hold me accountable for a work of fiction. Silly boys, the lot of them.”

I always aim for one role - the hero. But… all I ever get to be is the villain.

“Vil is too special to play the part of a regular teen that viewers can relate to. Without that reliability, I don’t think he’ll ever pull off playing a hero.”

I would do anything to be beautiful. The most rigorous training. The most tedious hair and skin care regimens. I would shy away from none of it. And yet.. Why? Why is it never me? All I want is to stay on stage until the end of a show.

In the end, it’s not the gentle splattering of rain on his face that wakes him up. It’s some foreign warmth on his face that causes his eyes to slowly open. Framed by his eyelashes and the haze of a deep slumber is your face. It’s as if you know, the way you look at him with such tenderness and concern. It’s as if you’ve pulled him from the deep recesses of his memories yourself, with the way your rough hands prop his head up so gently.

“How am I..” Vil rasps out, looking at you with nothing but queries in his eyes. His eyes search over your tired expression, the way the sclera of your eyes is still tinged a slight purple, and the various small cuts across your face. Did he do this? Waves of shame hit him and he can’t bear to meet your gaze.

“Thank goodness you’re awake, Vil,” you murmur down at him. Is this the first time you’ve said his name? It sounds foreign on your lips, and unbearably sweet. Why aren’t you mad at him? Why do you keep looking at him with those unaccusing eyes?

“Oh, Vil.. fair Vil,” Rook sighs in relief, crouching beside you on the rain soaked ruins. Ruins? Vil takes the opportunity to look round the battle site, the upheaved flagstones, the despoiled decorations. Another wave of shame meets him when he notices the haggard faces of his crew (is that Kalim bawling his eyes out? And is that Jamil scolding him?).

“I’m.. sorry you had to see that undignified display,” Vil apologises, making sure each and every one of his words is sincere. He cannot begin to comprehend how much shame he’s feeling at the moment. “Only third-rate people throw temper tantrums and take their problems out on others. My conduct was most unbecoming of all…”

“Y’right about that,” Epel grumbles, but without a trace of actual malicious intent. “Thought ya said people grow out of temper tantrums by the time they’re three?”

“Yes, you’re absolutely right, Epel,” Vil uses your shoulder to haul himself up so he can sit up. You don’t seem to mind, even grabbing on to his wrist to steady him. With another crash of guilt, he realises how your grasp is shaky, no doubt due to your exposure to the curse when you don’t have any sort of natural magic resistance. “I’m no longer fit to be your leader.”

“You haven’t actually hurt anyone, Vil,” Kalim argues. Vil can see him approaching and standing next to where Rook crouches. “You haven’t stepped over that brink.”

“He’s right,” Jamil says, jabbing his thumb in the general direction of outside the coliseum. “Neige is dancing out there happily with the seven dwarfs. It’s a stretch, but we can say we got worked up and had a team brawl in here.”

“Yeah,” Ace interjects. “No way we’re letting you pull out because of a few bruises, after the wringer we’ve been put through.”

“All of you,” Vil feels a horrendous mushy feeling swell up within him. You’re still supporting him with the way you’re steadying his wrist. “You just want to pretend nothing’s happened?”

“I never said that,” Jamil retorts, but his face blooms into his signature smile. “We can just hold off explanations until after the competition.”

“You truly are wicked, Jamil,” Vil replies with a small laugh. It hurts, and he feels his chest contort with pain. Your grip on his wrist tightens and you steady his shoulder with your other hand, clearly not missing the way his face twists into a grimace.

“Here, I’ll help you stand, alright?” you’re surprisingly strong, with the way you unceremoniously (but carefully) haul him up so he stands leaning into your firm touch. Even with your clearly weakened state, you still grip onto him as if he’s the fragile one that isn’t allowed to fall. Vil can’t even bring himself to protest.

“I wasn’t the one who made the shot so strong, Vil was,” Deuce seemingly replies to a conversation Vil’s unconsciously tuned out. “The spell stores all the damage I take, then hits it back all at once. So it was only potent because of Vil’s potent magic.”

Ah. Deuce seems to be describing the final hit Vil can barely remember taking, the one that likely brought him back to the brink of consciousness.

“Don’t make it sound so violent!” Deuce splutters in indignation, and Vil once again realises he’s tuned out. He doesn’t particularly mind, focusing instead on the way you unconsciously seem to tense your muscles against him when shifting, the way you still have that signature chemical smell to you, the way you’re looking directly at him with that expression-

“Signature… You mean that’s my signature spell?” Deuce seems to be coming to a realisation with sparkling eyes. Good on him. Beside him, Ace seems to be coming to an unpleasant realisation with the way he’s incredulously muttering to himself about how he can’t believe Deuce has mastered his signature spell before him.

“Behold, Vil is awestruck and weak-kneed from the splendour of your blow,” Rook proclaims, gesturing to the not-awestruck Vil.

“I’d wager he’s also weak-kneed from something else,” Jamil comments sardonically, looking pointedly at the way you’ve got him in your grasp. Vil only hopes you’ve become suddenly preoccupied with something else.

“No, I’m just beaten head-to-toe,” Vil swiftly retorts. “That last blow did strike soundly, though. Nicely done, Deuce.”

“Thank you, sir!” Deuce smiles at him eagerly. “Although, I don’t know what to do about the wrecked stage.”

“It’s not feasible to fix it all with magic,” Jamil replies pragmatically, looking around him with a calculating expression. “With what power we have left.. Every scenario running through my mind all ends with the same brick wall.”

“Does that mean.. SDC is…” Epel trails off, looking at Jamil with a dawning sense of horror.

“What do we have here?” The new, booming voice is accompanied by green fireflies that send a small shiver down Vil’s spine. What’s he doing here?

“I thought I’d arrive earlier,” Malleus hums with a touch of surprise, surveying the surroundings briefly. “What do I find but a stage laid to waste?”

“Hornton!” you exclaim, and Vil can feel your sternum vibrate through his shoulder. You’re.. acquainted with Malleus Draconia enough to call him nicknames? He can’t even be surprised anymore. “There’s still two hours until the SDC opens!”

“Hornton?” It’s a collective response from the rest of the crew, voicing Vil’s thoughts.

“Do you have a death wish, calling your upperclassman that?” Ace shudders at your audacity.

“Do you even know who that is?” Epel’s shocked voice causes you to blink in surprise at his tone.

“He told me to call him whatever, so I did,” Vil has to stifle a laugh as you shrug. Of course you did.

“However did you get into the coliseum, Roi des Dragons?” Rook sounds positively astonished.

“I was invited by the Child of Man from Ramshackle,” Malleus replies, gesturing to you.

“Yep,” you affirm. Vil feels as though you’re ignoring the other, more pressing question Rook’s asked.

“The entire venue is still enveloped by the poison mist generated by Vil,” Rook’s explanation trails off as Malleus holds up a clawed hand.

“I am impervious to any curse, no matter how powerful,” Malleus takes another look around the wrecked coliseum. “Whatever could’ve happened here?”

Vil watches as you briefly and efficiently describe the events, listening extra hard for the parts where he would’ve been unconscious. It’s curious, the way you don’t let any trace of exhaustion or pain enter your voice. It only takes around two minutes for you to give the gist of the situation to Malleus.

“Children of men, I shall bestow upon you a gift,” Malleus’ words come with an incredible magic pressure that leaves Vil’s eyes wide. He steals a glance at you, and watches your own expression become slack with awe and curiosity.

“That’s Malleus Draconia for you,” Vil murmurs to you. Your brow furrows as you look down at Vil.

“That’s Malleus? Hornton over there was the one everyone was so excited about at the Spelldrive tournament?” you ask incredulously. After all this, you’re still holding on to that nickname? Your eyes dart back to those green fireflies that are somehow lifting all the ruined flagstones and pillars, and rearranging them into pristine condition. Within the space of a few heartbeats, Malleus has managed to restore the conditions of the arena into an exact replica of how they were before.

“He’s ludicrously out of our league,” Ace mumbles in awe. Vil can’t help but agree.

“Thanks a bunch, Hornton!” you beam at Malleus, who stares at you for a brief second before breaking out into chuckles. It’s the first time Vil’s ever heard the fae laugh, but you’re full of surprises as usual.

“Though you know who I am, you still stick to that pet name?” Malleus sounds terribly amused, looking at you as you fumble with an explanation. He interrupts whatever apology is about to leave your lips with another chuckle. “Truly, I do not mind.”

He turns to look at Vil with a resolute expression in his eyes that’s made all the more disconcerting by his piercing green eyes. “I’ve set the stage for you, Schoenheit. I trust you will keep me entertained.”

“I hardly need your urgings to put on my finest performance,” Vil suppresses the wince of pain as he straightens his posture, ignoring the very tangible reality of you still grasping onto him. “Be prepared for a standing ovation.”

“I’ll expect nothing less. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Malleus’ last words fade out with his disappearance. The only traces left behind by him are those green fireflies.

“Lady Luck is truly on our side,” Rook comments after the flashes fade out. “I was hardly expecting Roi des Dragons to appear here.”

Me neither. Though it seems today is a day full of surprises.

Vil leans into your warmth a bit more, and you indulge him. The arm carefully wrapped around him is sure and steady - he wants nothing more than to stay here until the end of time. You don’t ask questions, looking past his shoulder so you can direct the crew to their water. He knows he must let go to perform - it’s highly unusual to see the Vil Schoenheit rely on anyone, even if it’s a little bit. To see him clinging to someone, his rival of all people…

Gingerly, he lets go of you. Your grasp on him is firm to the very end as you let go and make sure he’s not at risk of fainting. The concern you display is almost comedic, but you don’t say anything.

He can feel your eyes burning into his back as he walks away, but he doesn’t look back.

Scene IV: Unopened Missive . 　⁺

Vil supposes it’s comedic as he pours everything he’s got left into the final performance, only to score exactly one point below RSA. It’s always like this; him, exactly one step behind Neige. He can’t fault Neige, anymore, not after he’s come to terms with it. As the thrum of music faded and the flow of performance left him, he was acutely aware of the raucous applause he drew. He did not care. All he was searching for were your eyes.

He’s sure Lady Luck is laughing straight at him as Rook proclaims himself as one of Neige’s biggest fans. What betrayal! Of course this has been added onto the list of surprises. It’s strange; he doesn’t feel the annoyance he’d expect to be simmering through his veins at that moment. It seems he’s let that go.

It’s practically hilarious as he joins Neige on stage to sing an encore. Only scraps of bitterness remain - had Vil not exhausted the whole team earlier, they might have won and took back that one measly vote. He’s accepted that. Still, his frustration is palpable as he leaves his crew to sing with Neige, though not to the audience. His professionalism is the one thing he’s managed to keep up.

“Hey,” your voice breaks him out of the reverie. It’s bizarre, the way you’ve escorted him back to Pomefiore, even though he’s got Rook and Epel to do that. It’s even more bizarre, the way he’s let you gently drag him to his room, where Rook and Epel have already gone back to their own chambers. They already know it’s best to leave him alone when he’s in a bad mood. So why.. why are you still-

The sharp tang of medicinal ointment brings him back to the current situation. You’re poised between his legs as he sits at his vanity, with an assortment of bottles behind you. It’s strangely intimate with the way the soft dusk lighting envelopes you with its mysterious aura. He’s not wearing any makeup, but you don’t seem to care; your gaze caresses his features, laced with only concern.

Please, don’t look at me with those eyes.

“I’m going to begin, alright?” you murmur, searching his eyes for any traces of discomfort. Vil nods wordlessly. The pressure on his chin from one hand of yours is feather light; he finds himself leaning into it slightly. Your other hand lightly brushes over the cuts on his face with the ointment swabbed onto a cotton pad - strangely, it lacks the usual sting which normally elicits a sharp hiss of surprise.

“I made this ointment myself,” you explain after seeing the surprise conveyed in his eyes. Of course you did. In any case, it seems to be working fine, judging by the rapid cooling sensation he’s feeling across his face.

“Why-” Vil begins to ask as you cap the ointment bottle and twist it closed with practised ease. Your hand is still on his face, but he can’t bear to pull away. Not here, in the privacy of his room, where the only eyes upon him are yours. “-why are you still here? Don’t you dislike me?”

You pause in the rummaging you’re doing in your pocket. Vil holds his breath as you turn to him with that contemplative look you wear while figuring out potions.

“I don’t actually dislike you,” you comment matter-of-factly, tilting his face to each side to observe your handiwork. “I’ve got better things to do than spend my energy stewing over you.”

Ouch.

“You still haven’t answered my first question,” Vil’s composure is rapidly slipping down the drain as he remains (quite literally) in the palm of your hand. Your gaze doesn’t falter. “Do you just feel bad for me?”

“No,” you respond idly, still tilting his head this way and that. It’s like watching a cat bat at a toy. “I thought it might be good to have company and rely on someone else for once.”

There’s something else you aren’t saying. It’s unspoken in your eyes and the way your brow makes imperceptible furrows every few minutes. Vil’s breath hitches in his throat slightly.

“Did you-” he’s interrupted by that look, not one of pity, but one of resolute determination.

“Yes, I saw those memories,” you admit. You don’t look at him with an apologetic expression, one that screams pity. It’s a relief. “I didn’t mean to, like at all.”

“It’s fine,” Vil supposes it is fine. You wouldn’t tell anyone, he feels. He watches as your expression shrivels up into one of abject surprise as you feel around in your pocket, drawing out what seems to be a cream-coloured, expensive looking envelope. Vil knows exactly what it is, even as you scan the front quizzically then shrug. Of course. You can’t read the runes.

“It’s the results for the poison assessment,” Vil supplies. Strange. He doesn’t feel any excitement, or fear - it’s bordering on the neutrality of acceptance. It seems you feel the same way, as you just toss the envelope down with disregard onto the vanity and continue your search in your pockets.

“Aha!” your triumphant exclamation leaves him blinking in surprise. Why haven’t you acknowledged the results at all? You brandish another bottle of ointment in front of him excitedly, almost hitting him on the nose due to your very close proximity. “I’ve found the muscle and bone ointment!”

“Aren’t you going to look at the results?” Vil asks incredulously - it slips out before he can even comprehend he’s said it.

“I can’t even read them,” you untwist the ointment with your teeth, leaving tiny dents in the metal cap. “I’ll look at them later.”

The potent tang of nettles permeates the air as you set the open bottle onto the table behind you, letting go of Vil’s face.

“I’m going to need you to undress so I can access your back,” your nonchalant tone makes Vil’s reaction delayed. He can feel the back of his neck heat up at your words. “I heard the nastiest little crunch when Deuce’s spell hit you, so I’m gonna have to check those ribs.”

“Right,” Vil swallows thickly, standing up. Wrong move. You’re much too close now, pressed up against the vanity with him standing right in front of you. His body is brushing up against yours, and he can feel your body heat. Shit. He moves out of the vicinity to the bathroom, with all the composure of a professional actor.

“This ointment’s designed for deeper use than surface level injuries,” you call out behind him. “It’s gonna sting!”

“That’s fine,” Vil responds before shutting his bathroom door. He quickly loosens his shirt, wishing it were your hands doing- His heart pounds in his ribcage as he shuts down the thought. It only takes a minute before his shirt and blazer are both tossed into the laundry basket, all too soon considering the flushed sheen emerging on his face.

One final cursory inspection of his face in the mirror is necessary before he goes out to face you. He’s almost taken aback - not by the lack of makeup which he’s already accustomed to, but the sheer vulnerability within his expression. He looks like such a mess, and you’ve not even commented on it? You’ve just accepted that it doesn’t matter what he looks like; you’re going to treat him the same regardless. It’s a far cry to what he values as his principles.

He pushes open the door hesitantly. His torso is exposed, and he suddenly feels the jarring pangs of shyness. Why now? He’s gone topless for movie scenes before, for Sevens’ sake! Steeling himself, he opens the door completely. You’ve placed the vanity chair by the bed- surely you’re not-

“You can either lie on your stomach here, or sit up on the chair, which might be more uncomfortable,” you explain briefly, rolling up your uniform sleeves as if you’re about to conduct a lab practical. Am I the lab rat? “I’ve picked up a few massage tips here and there, so overall it should be a quite pleasant experience. Of course, if you want to omit the massage-”

“No, it’s fine,” Vil lets out a shaky breath at your nonchalance, gingerly lying on his front on his covers. Jack of all trades, aren’t you? He doesn’t realise just how tense his muscles have been until you press your thumbs into the muscles situated around his scapula. Your hands are coated in some sort of resinous, volatile substance, judging from the brief alcohol fumes flaring up whenever you place your hands down. You were right, there is a sting, but it’s not as sharp as he expected.

Why are you doing this? It’s a question that keeps replaying in his mind’s movie theatre, with the cruel laughing soundtrack interspersed in a tragic loop every few seconds. The two of you aren’t friends, and what you’ve done goes beyond the level of care Vil normally receives from friendship. He can’t complain, not when your warm, rough hands are finally on him, even if it’s to just rub the ointment in.

“Now, I’m no medic,” there’s a faint apology in your tone as you concentrate the ointment into a specific, aching spot. Vil barely registers the sting of pain due to your burning touch. “But I think that your rib’s been bruised at the very least in that spot, and that ointment should’ve healed the worst of it.”

His rapid heart rate distracts him from the loss of body heat from you as you move your hands away from his body. Please don’t stop. He feels a heavy pressure on his right shoulder, and to his surprise it’s the palm of your hand waking him from his reverie.

“I’ll bandage you up just to be sure,” you murmur, shifting your weight from foot to foot and looking around. It’s clear you’re hesitant, maybe due to your lack of experience playing a so-called “doctor”. Still, judging by the way the deep ache within has eased, you’ve done a pretty darn good job, as Epel would no doubt say. “Sit up.”

Vil obeys, gingerly swinging his legs round the bed until he’s sitting, and you’re once again hovering over him as you slip a clean bandage out of its plastic wrapping. He breathes in the comforting warmth of your body heat and repertoire of chemical smells that mask the floral traces on your skin. Don’t you feel the rushed thrum of blood that’s pumping through each vein and each capillary, as you wrap your arms around him to begin winding the bandage?

Is he nothing more than a mere patient to that clinical precision you currently sport?

“What would you have chosen, if you won the poison assessment?” Vil suddenly asks as you clip the bandage into place with a satisfied hum around the middle of his torso.

“Why are you asking as if I lost?” you let out a bemused chuckle, gesturing to the still-very-closed envelope sitting on his vanity. “We don’t know yet.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Vil could melt with the way you’re gazing down at him as he sits with you standing in between his legs. Your sharp eyes contain a warning, one he has no intention of heeding as he presses the subject. “Won’t you tell me?”

“Fine,” your voice rasps slightly as you stoop down to his level. He can’t help but shiver at the sensation of your warm breath rustling past his ear. “Are you really that eager to know?”

“Go on,” Vil almost pleads, and he’s sure you hear the quiet hints of desperation in his voice. Your eyes lock back onto his; he’s slightly regretting asking you as he sees the dangerous glints in your eye. His breath hitches as he realises it’s the same, all-consuming look of seriousness you reserve for your experiments and potions. It’s as if he already knows what your answer will be, with the way his blood excitedly thrums to the surface to respond with an echoing yes.

Please.

The rough pads of your fingers meet his chin again in that gentle grasp as you tilt his head upwards. This is really happening, right? It’s as if he’s in a haze; anticipation of your movements is the only thing breaking him out of it.

“Can I..” you murmur, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip. He holds his breath. Yes. Your mere touch calls forth fireworks to explode in a vibrant cacophony.

“Please,” Vil’s quiet gasp is all the encouragement you clearly need, because the next thing he knows you’ve stepped forward and met his open mouth with yours. The heady taste of woodsmoke and cherry syrup lingering on your tongue is positively intoxicating. He’s not sure, but he can also taste the coppery tang of blood as well. Perhaps it’s from the heat of battle earlier? Regardless, his blood rises in response; he’s sure his face is flushed a deep pink.

You don’t hesitate, leaning his head to the side with your fingers to kiss him deeper and deeper. He groans into your mouth, feeling you smile as you taste his desperation. He positively convulses as he feels your hand trace the bare skin of his side; he’s so vulnerable like this, and he knows you feel it as you press into his body.

Vil gasps for air when you pull back. A string of saliva connects your lips to his; with a start, he realises that your lips are shiny and traced with the purple lipgloss he’s wearing. Your eyes are half-lidded with intensity and some other roiling emotion he can’t place. It makes his breathing even more uneven when he realises he’s made you look like that.

“Like what you see?” even now, traces of rivalry still lace Vil’s tone; he cannot help but provoke you to elicit another reaction. Your gaze slowly travels up and down Vil’s dishevelled appearance, making sure to scour every inch of it. He holds his breath when your lip curls in disdain.

“Please,” your voice rolls deep from your throat with sarcasm. It makes Vil’s blood cells burn with want. The sharp, intense look in your eyes only becomes more turbulent; it’s insanely attractive to be at your mercy.

“Don’t make me laugh-” your fingers curl into his chin more, and Vil can feel the suppressed strength within the grip. Blood is rushing straight down, and he can barely keep track of all the thoughts racing through his head. “-not with the way I’ve seen you almost do flips for my attention, with your one-sided rivalry.”

“Ah-” Vil’s gasp sounds suspiciously like a moan as you move closer, pressing a knee in between his legs inadvertently. You’ve clearly heard it, with the way you furrow your brow and pause your motions.

“Did you-” your eyes fully take in his heavy breathing and the way he’s coming undone from just kissing you. Your question is answered immediately.

“Please, keep going,” Vil pleads, removing one hand from where it’s gripping the sheets to your hip. You swallow thickly, eyes darting between his hand and face.

“You sure you want to continue?” you prompt, eyes settling into that same dangerous glint once again. “I don’t want to aggravate your injuries..”

“Please,” Vil all but begs, seeing the way your eyes glaze over with desire. The hazy, smoky smell of your skin almost acts like an aphrodisiac; he cannot help but be ensnared.

“Alright,” your voice is hushed when you tilt his head upwards to access his jugular, biting into the area slightly with sharp canines. He knows you feel it: the way his pulse jumps erratically beneath your touch. You draw out quiet, hushed gasps with every mark you make on his throat, with every movement of your waist against his bare torso, with every nudge of your knee in between his legs.

More.

He doesn’t even realise he’s slowly rolling his hips against your leg to feel any sort of friction until you press down on his hips with the hand that’s been supporting his shoulder.

“Not so fast,” you breathe against his skin - his back can’t help but arch slightly at the feeling of your breath against his neck. “Allow me to take care of you.”

It’s your words that make him pause in shock; they’re an eerie echo of what you said in his dream. Judging by the lack of change in your expression, you don’t know about it; thank Sevens.

You’re pressing into him, forcing him into the bed on his forearms while you lean in, kissing his mouth feverishly to bring out his gasps and moans. He’s unbearably hard, all the more so because of your knee moving out of reach each time he chases that delicious high. This is better than any dream.

Burning kisses trail their way from below his ear down to his collarbone. He’s suddenly glad for the wonders of concealer as he thinks about the marks you’re leaving. On the other hand, he’s strangely into the idea of people seeing he’s taken by you, so much so that you’re marking him up like this.

“Ah- right there,” Vil can’t suppress the noises he’s making as your lips travel down to his chest. He doesn’t care who hears him; he’s seeing goddamn stars with the way your tongue circles his nipple and your thumb mirrors the action with the other one. The pressure you’re applying deftly is making him intoxicated.

“You look so beautiful like this,” your fingers glide over the neatly wrapped bandages on his chest, trailing down to his waist. He doesn’t think it’s possible for his heart to beat any more erratically without thumping straight out of his chest. Is he really sure that you haven’t magically seen his dreams? After all, you’ve seen his memories. He waits with bated breath for your next move, not realising that you’ve already positioned yourself to hover between his thighs with a small grin on your face.

“Mind if I take these off?” you hook your thumbs around the tailored trousers he’s wearing. It takes considerable self-restraint to not tell you to just rip them off.

“Go ahead,” it’s a wonder that his voice doesn’t crack from the sheer pressure of what he’s feeling at the moment. Your grin is all edges as you efficiently unzip the front and slip the pants off. It seems that he’s surprised you when you look down at his smooth legs with your eyebrows slightly raised, taking in the fact that he’s wearing sheer black stockings to his mid thigh underneath his pants.

“All for me?” you run your fingers down his legs appreciatively, feeling the soft material underneath your fingers with an even sharper grin than before. Vil can’t help but shiver at the feather-light touches you give, contrasted sharply with the jagged vertices of your smile.

All for you.

It’s as if you can read his thoughts. You’re once again hovering between his legs, spreading them with nothing more than a gentle push. The touches you leave on his legs feel almost possessive; he cannot help but adore it. Will he be the only one seeing that expression on your face? He wants to be the only one, the only one to see the tumultuous desire warp and thrash within the glints in your eyes. It’s a far cry from your usual composure.

Sticky residue from his lipgloss is left on his soft inner thighs as you press kiss after kiss to the skin. He can feel desire pulse through you with every bruising mark you leave. It entrances him. The unspoken words you leave him are more than enough to assure him that even like this, with all his bruises and scrapes and tears, he’s beautiful.

Your hands slowly ease his underwear off; the cold air on the sensitive skin makes him hiss slightly, but it quickly turns into a gasp as you leave kisses in the crook of the skin connecting his thigh to his pelvis.

“I’m going to absolutely ruin you,” you promise quietly. The ravenous look in your eyes doesn’t subside as you gaze at him from between his legs. He can’t help but let out a small groan at your words. What would his fans say if they saw him, lying so pliant for his supposed academic rival?

One of Vil’s hands fly up to his face to muffle the moans escaping his lips when your thumb circles his slit, made all too easy by the flow of pre-cum from his dick. The other hand is left desperately clutching at the sheets of his bed as his hips involuntarily buck upwards into your hand.

“Uncover your pretty mouth,” you slowly twist your hand down, all while gazing at his flushed face. He’s already seeing stars at the friction and can barely register his hand leaving his mouth to grip the sheets. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

He can only hope that his door is soundproofed from the obscene noises leaving him as you pick up the pace. It’s not enough. Your hand moves away each time the haze of pleasure builds up, leaving him chasing after your touch. He’s sure he looks an absolute mess right now with the way tears are leaving his eyes and his brow has the sheen of sweat; you clearly don’t care as you lithely move upwards to kiss him. The cool fabric of your clothes presses into his bare skin, making him feel incredibly exposed to you.

You’re still moving with that teasing pace as you swallow down his moans. It’s unbearable, all the more so because you’re still covered in your uniform. He almost sobs in relief when your hand picks up speed and the pleasure starts steadily building in his stomach. His hips desperately grind into your hand and you let him, let him come undone with your touch and quiet praises. He’s close; the dopamine is flooding through his veins and all he can focus on is the way you touch him, the way you’re currently kissing his jaw and leaving more marks on his neck, the way you’re coaxing such obscene sounds from both his throat and from the skin on skin friction.

It builds and builds and builds, until all he can fathom is saying your name over and over, as if he’s some devout worshipper invoking some otherworldly being. He lets go, feeling the way you slow down to allow him to ride out the climax. Only white-hot pleasure courses through his mind, fading out more slowly than usual. He kisses you feverishly, feeling the warm skin on the nape of your neck as he pulls you in closer and closer. You’re now lying side by side on his bed, with you pressed up against him wearing your despoiled clothes, ones that have been despoiled by him.

“You’re removing your clothes as well, I hope?” his gaze trails down your body, looking at the offending uniform that you’re wearing. It’s a wonder he’s managed to form a coherent statement. Still, it’s only fair that you also remove the fabric with those deft hands like you did to those tailored trousers he was wearing.

“Right,” your gaze softens, moving your hands away from his body. His brows furrow with a question as he watches the hand sticky with cum approach your face- oh my. A scarlet flush blooms on his cheeks as you use your tongue to clean your hand up, before using it to lazily remove your blazer and vest. You don’t give them a second glance as you toss the clothes on the floor. The warmth you’re emitting is all the more palpable as only a thin buttoned shirt separates your skin from his. It’s incredibly attractive, watching your languid movements as you discard the shirt off to the side as well as your trousers.

The feeling of your bare skin on his shouldn’t elicit such a burning reaction from him, but it does; he groans as you lean back to slowly kiss him, feeling the way your body heat envelopes him without any barriers. He’s acutely aware of all the points your skin brushes against him - it’s insanely addicting. You’re kissing him without a care in the world, judging by the way you lazily cradle his face with your hands. He’s so malleable under your touch, so starved of affection that he’s wrapped around your pinky finger. He’s sure you can feel the way his skin flushes with a simmering heat.

The blue hour soaks you both in the gloom as your hands press him closer and closer, until he can barely distinguish where he ends and you begin. Is this what it means to become one, united in flesh?

Does he look beautiful to you like this?

He knows he does. He knows he does when you reverently trail down with your kisses, settling between his thighs again to fill him up with your fingers. He knows he does as you feverishly coax those angelic moans out of him; your eyes are blazing with desire for him. He knows he does as you draw out his climax for as long as you can so wave after wave of pleasure can keep hitting him.

It’s late evening when the two of you fall asleep, tangled together and worn out.

The letter on the vanity lies forgotten; Vil doesn’t particularly care about the results when he already feels your equal.

Scene V: Closing . 　⁺

“Goodness, trickster,” Rook’s exclamation when you emerge in the Pomefiore lounge room in the morning thankfully goes unnoticed by the few students milling about. “Our dorm uniform looks simply ravishing on you.”

“Yeah, mine got quite ruined from yesterday’s events,” your voice sounds raspy as you try to sell your act to Rook, who’s positively cooing over you. What a little prankster. Vil can’t help but glance at you from his favourite armchair. As the culprit responsible for ruining your uniform, he of course had to lend you a uniform. Still, you do look rather good in it.

“Don’t tell me you slept over and didn’t tell me?” Rook plasters a look of mock-hurt on his face, and Vil implores you to shut your mouth for once and put on the best act of your life.

“Something like that,” your expression is innocent, with the exception of your raised eyebrows. You don’t look at Vil at all as you smile at Rook, who’s unfortunately glanced over at Vil, scrutinising him with that disgustingly perceptive look.

“Does that explain the bruises on his neck?” Vil chokes on his smoothie hearing the hunter’s whisper. Of course he forgot something this morning. Of all days.

“Whatever could you mean?” you inquire nonchalantly, straightening the ironed collar of the uniform.

“Oh my,” Rook’s eyes are as wide as saucers as his gaze swivels between you and Vil. It’s rare to see him this gleeful. “You two totally slept-”

“I’m going to need you to shut it, Rook,” you cover the offender’s mouth abruptly before he can say anything more. You’re not denying it though, looking back at Vil with a wicked grin on your face.

Shit.

[beardedjoel]

new habits

part two of new addiction | part one 

boss!joel x f!reader one-shot collection

summary: you can’t place the emotion - is joel miller guilty for the rendezvous you two had in his office? you soon get an answer in the form of  another late night visit with him.

warnings: 18+! MDNI! non-apocalypse au, boss!joel is a lil mean but not too mean, oral sex (f recieving), dirty talk, unprotected piv, fingering, cum play, squirting, size kink kinda, panty stealing, daddy kink (my hand slipped i swear)

word count: 5.1k

a/n: hellooooo back with another part for boss!joel and reader, i got literally one request for another part and was like yep i’m not tired of them yet at ALL so here we go! time to get more depraved with my fav manager

If you didn’t know any better, it would seem like Joel Miller was avoiding you. 

The day after what you’ve been referring to as the incident (the most mind blowing incident) he hadn’t even stopped by the office, spending the entire day out at the construction sites. That was a Friday, so the entire weekend you pined, plotted, and over thought the whole thing. Could it be possible that Joel - the same Joel who had gladly and enthusiastically spit right into your mouth for fuck’s sake - was feeling guilty? He certainly hadn’t seemed it when his cock was shoved so deep in your pussy you could’ve seen stars, so what the hell gives now?

Monday came, and Joel breezed into the office in his typical manner, too busy for anything other than a quick “morning” to you all, grumbling that “there’d better be coffee made” before working on scheduling and blueprints in his office for a few hours. 

Just having him so close by, your desk mere feet from his office door, makes your skin buzz. Knowing the things you did in there, the depths of your depravity with him that nobody else in the room could even dream about, makes you wild. You realize halfway through the day you’re practically soaking your panties with just your thoughts alone. You really could stand to get it together, you think as you sneak into the break room for a cup of tea, hoping the calming drink could take your mind off of things. 

Suddenly the exact opposite is happening when Joel enters the room, sidling up next to you at the counter, fixing to pour himself a cup of coffee. For a few moments just the potent, rich smell of it hangs in the air between you two and Joel clears his throat a little. 

“How was your weekend, doll?” he asks quietly, and when you glance at him in semi-shock, he has a knowing smirk on his face. He’s enjoying this, he knows he’s been making you squirm for days, and is testing your patience.

“Was alright. I had a lot to think about,” you reply, and Joel snorts a tiny chuckle out. 

“I’ll bet,” he replies, and before you can even return the favor to ask him about his weekend, his hand is around the mug handle and he’s leaving the room. 

He doesn’t interact with you for the rest of the day. 

You’re practically fuming as you walk to your car after work, not having heard much else from Joel other than the things he was telling everyone in your vicinity, from upcoming projects to a few housekeeping items he needed done around the office this week. The only respite you’d had was when his eyes lingered slightly on you, legs crossed and stretching out gracefully from your short dress. His gaze had raked over your body in a quick, ravenous glance, and that one look could’ve eaten you alive with how much power was behind it. Only a flash of the man you’d met that night, that was all you got for now. 

You don’t know what to do from here. Are you supposed to wait for another note? Or did your last secret rendezvous mean that it was free game to pay him a visit any time you wanted as well? You had a feeling the former was more his style, wanting to be in control, to have the upper hand here. You sigh as you grip the wheel on the way home, knowing there isn’t exactly a handbook for the perfect way to have a secret affair with your boss. 

When Wednesday comes around, with Tuesday having had almost the same outcome, you’re practically seething, ready to confront him privately and figure out just what the hell is going on in that twisted mind of his. If he likes playing games, fine, you’d just like to at least be clued into them so you can get some enjoyment from the chase of it all. 

Your phone pings in the middle of the workday, and your lips part in shock as you glance down at the screen and see words that make the blood rush inside your ears and your heart jump. A new message from Joel Miller. You’d completely forgotten you’d even saved his number on your first day of work, him claiming he wanted every employee to have it for emergencies. And you have to wonder if what he messaged you for truly was, well, an emergency, just of a different nature. A sly smile creeps onto your lips as you read the words on your screen. 

Joel Miller: Feeling awful stressed today. Meeting after fuckin meeting. Think you could help me out with that, babydoll? 

Your fingers go flying, not caring just how desperately quick you’re texting him back, all the anger brewing inside of you at him quickly forgotten. 

You: Whatever you need from me boss ;)

Joel Miller: How about some pretty photos of you to ease my pain

You swallow hard, sneaking off the bathroom, your heartbeat pounding against your chest as if every single person in this office can read your mind and knows what you’re about to do. You lock yourself inside a stall and try to think quickly of what Joel would want to see from you.

You pull the backside of your dress up, showing off the curve of your ass adorned by a cheeky, red lace set of panties and try to angle your phone in a way that will capture the sexy essence you’re going for, feeling absolutely ridiculous with the way you’re contorting your body to try to get the shot. Next, you put a foot up on the toilet seat and try to get an upskirt shot, placing your free hand dangerously close to your pussy, letting the fingers rest comfortably, spread out along your thigh teasingly. 

Fuck. Yes. You’re surprised at just how well the photos turned out given your time constraint and shaky hands. You’ve taken a few photos like this before, but something about these, knowing they’re going to Joel, your heart flutters with anticipation as you queue them up with a message for him.

You: Hope these help until you can get the real thing

When you exit the stall with a shaky breath and return to your desk, he hasn’t answered yet, and you assume with good intentions that he’s just in a meeting, not ignoring your absolutely perfect nudes you’ve sent over.

You tap your foot impatiently, trying to get some work done, when your phone lights up next to you, alerting you to a message.

Joel Miller: So dirty baby. Need to get my hands on that perfect ass

You decide on a bold whim to leave him hanging, let him stew without a response from you to egg him on, only the photos.

Joel’s appearance in the office later that evening shows just how long he felt his day was - his tie askew, the knot partially pulled down to give his neck some room to breathe, and hair mussed from running his hands through it too many times. In some perverted little way, you find the sight of him looking so rough exciting. The more stressed Joel is, the more likely he’ll need to lean on you tonight. When your life got this pathetic, you don’t know, but you have a feeling you could trace it back to the first time you laid eyes on Joel Miller.

He walks through the space, saying quick goodnights to a few of his employees that are finishing up for the day, claiming he forgot something at the office when he went out for his meetings earlier. As he reaches to pass your desk, your heart jumps into your throat, and suddenly it’s so dry you can barely swallow. 

An imperceptible nod. That’s all he gives you when he passes, but it says everything you need to know. He needs you tonight. 

You wriggle in your seat, the dull ache of arousal coming to your attention between your legs as you start to anticipate Joel’s advances being focused on you in just a few short moments. You impatiently wait out everyone else in the office, practically jumping out of your chair at the last of your coworker’s departures.

Shoulders back. Deep breath. Exude confidence.

The silent chant moves through your thoughts as you approach Joel’s office door and poke your head in the small space where the door was left cracked, slowly pushing it open as you enter. The sight that awaits you, Joel sitting back in his office chair, legs spread, as if inviting you to his lap, makes your knees want to quake.

He hasn’t said a word yet, so you choose not to either, taking careful, bordering on feline-like steps around his desk to where he sits. You swing your leg over him delicately, spreading yourself wide as you settle onto his lap, straddling him. He instantly groans at the pressure of your warm body on him, as if that was all he needed in the world to satisfy him.

“Dressed up today, huh? I kinda like it,” you say, wrapping your fingers around the tie and pulling slightly, nudging his head a bit closer to yours.

“Client meetings for a big project, hate wearin’ this shit,” he grumbles. He reaches up to loosen his tie and pull it off over his head, tossing it on the floor next to his chair.

His lips find your neck, but he’s more reserved today, already knowing he has you right where he wants you. His lips graze the skin lightly, sending shiver after shiver of goosebumps over your body. Playful light kisses press onto the sensitive skin over and over, Joel’s tongue flicking out every so often to taste you even deeper. 

“Smell so fuckin’ good, all a man needs after a day like mine, swear,” he says gruffly, barely pulling off of your neck, taking a deep breath of the perfume you’d put on just for him, every single day since you started working here.

“You can talk to me, y’know. What I’m here for, all to take care of you. I’m whatever you need,” you say huskily, already lost in all the touch he’s delivering. He simply lets out a small hum of satisfaction, running his large, rough hands along your back, feeling the curve of it as you arch into his touch.

“That make you all wet, babydoll? Wantin’ that pussy to get all used up by me when I need you?” His lips are on you the second his sentence finished, sucking on your neck lightly before tracing up to your earlobe and lightly taking it between his lips.

“Yes, Mr. Miller,” you reply, barely a hushed whisper. You mewl quietly at his lips’ various movements on you, drawing your hips down onto his lap, trying to find any sense of relief. The dull ache from earlier has been replaced quickly with a full on throbbing on your sensitive clit, making you feel wild with need for him.

“Mmm, so polite, sweetheart. Weren’t so polite earlier, were you? Takin’ naughty photos in the bathroom for me.”

You blush under his words and his gaze, unable to control the slightly burning creeping onto your cheeks at the thought of you taking those photos for him earlier. It had felt wrong, contorting and perching yourself just right to get a photo to help fulfill his little fantasies, and you loved every minute of it.

“Liked what you saw?” you ask, your hips starting to grind absentmindedly against his center.

“Y’know I did,” he says, hands sliding to your ass, pulling you closer so that your movements get more friction. You can feel yourself seeping through your panties already, probably about to soak the front of him at any moment. “Such a tease, those little photos, thought ‘bout ‘em all day.”

“What did you think about, huh? What got you through the day?” you whisper melodically in his ear, trying to be the soothing presence for him that you desire so badly to be.

Joel chuckles, deep and throaty. “Little slut, want to hear me talk about how I love your pussy so bad, don’t you? Thought about it all fuckin’ day, could barely hear a word in those damn meetings.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” you purr, hips grinding a little harder, and you let out a breathy sound. You pinch your lips together, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed at just how shamelessly you’re moving yourself against him. At the least you’re comforted by the fact that you can feel his hard length straining against his jeans as you rub against him, meaning he’s enjoying this just as much.

“Go on, don’t be shy,” Joel says, looking down in between you at the way you’re moving on him. “Kept you waiting a long time, didn’t I, babydoll? Needin’ this cock again so badly.”

You nod as you look at him with heady eyes starting to glaze over with need. “Thought you didn’t need me anymore. Wanted to do my good little job for you.” You whine with a pout, your voice is a low pitched hush, head buried in his shoulder as you continue to get yourself off.

“Doin’ so good, waitin’ on me every moment in case I need ya,” Joel says, and you’re embarrassingly close to climaxing, your soaked panties rubbing perfectly against your clit as you grind on his jeans, the firmness of his cock pressing deliciously against your folds.

“I’m- I’m close…” you whimper.

Joel chuckles again, clearly amused at just how easy it is for you to lose yourself to him. His hands move from where they’ve been kneading your ass through your dress to your hips, and he grips tightly, lifting you up. Your hips grind out into nothing, and you groan loudly at the unexpected interruption in your quickly approaching bliss.

“N-no, Mr. Miller, I- please -” Your entire body shudders down with the loss of the coming climax, your insides feeling like they’re clawing to get the sensation out, but with nothing there to edge it forward, you’re lost. You sigh in desperation, reaching to grip his shoulders and pull yourself back down.

“Nuh-uh, sugar,” Joel tuts with a devious glint in his eye. “Playin’ with you will make me feel better, isn’t that what you want?”

Your entire body shakes as you nod yes, and Joel smirks happily. “Good girl,” he says, “Now what to do with you…” He looks you over, his eyes roaming over your tits now starting to spill out of the top of your dress with the way you’d been rubbing against him, moving the fabric.

“You like dressin’ like a little whore for me, don’t you, havin’ your tits out and everything,” he says, releasing your hips to palm both of them, squeezing them upwards, testing the weight in his hands. 

“Want to give you something fun to look at at work,” you say with a little giggle, which Joel returns with his own gruff chuckle.

“Y’sure do,” he concludes, tearing the dress down to reveal your chest to him, and he hisses through his teeth, seeing your bare tits bounce out at him.

“Knew you’d look so perfect,” he practically growls out, immediately going for one of your nipples, rolling it between his fingers. You let out a gasp, your hips defying all logic and moving of their own accord, grinding down on him again as your back arches.

“Lemme taste you, that’ll make daddy feel so much better,” Joel says, eyes transfixed on the way he’s playing with your nipples and your body’s eager reactions to it. You’re not even sure he realizes the new shift in dynamic he’s just introduced, the words flowing out of him so naturally.

“Yes, daddy, taste me, taste me,” you say, echoing him without a second thought. You weren’t sure where it came from, but whatever gets Joel off seems to get you off, if you’re honest. Your cunt is aching beyond control now, the throbbing bordering on painful now, your breath hitching at the thought of his tongue licking the increasingly sensitive spot.

“Be good and get on up there, then,” Joel commands, nodding towards the desk. You sit on the edge, legs dangling and spreading open for him. “All the way back,” Joel corrects, grabbing at your hips and scooting you himself, then placing a hand on your chest and pushing back, so that you eventually end up laying down completely. Joel hovers over you, playing with the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up. 

You writhe and wriggle, strangled little cries coming out of your mouth, unable to take the anticipation anymore.

“Joel…” you whine.

“Haven't even started yet and you’re callin’ my name,” he laughs before his fingers reach the band of your underwear, sliding a finger along it. You cry out again when his finger brushes further down on your mound. You want to slam your fists onto the desk in pure desire-fueled frustration, but you refrain, showing Joel how eager you are by movements and twists of your hips.

When he finally pulls your panties down, the cool air touching your bare sex, you sigh a bit of relief at the coming pleasure. 

“Didn’t get to ‘preciate this ‘nuff the last time, sugar,” Joel muses. “Bet you taste so sweet too… fuckin’ divine…” One of his fingers swipes through your slit and you gasp, peering up at him as you watch him slide it through several times to your entrance, gathering as much slickness as he can. He slides the finger into his mouth, tasting it almost pornographically, groaning in pleasure before popping it out.

“Was right, y’know. Ever tasted yourself, babydoll?” Joel asks with an enticing lick of his lips, like he needs to clean every bit of you off that he can.

“N-no, I haven’t,” you answer, too stunned by his behavior and your distractingly aching pussy to think of anything witty to retort.

“Oh, you’re missin’ out,” he coos before repeating the same motions on your pussy, every time he brushes the sensitive bud of your clit it’s own tiny form of torture. He leans over your body, his shiny, slick finger reaching towards your mouth. 

“Don’t make me hav’ta ask,” he warns, and you sit up on your elbows and part your lips alluringly, allowing his finger to slide right in. You suck hard with a swirl of your tongue, hoping it emulates the way your mouth had felt on his cock just a few days ago. It seems to do the trick, Joel’s smile growing into a devious smirk as he groans a little.

“This fuckin’ mouth,” he says with a shake of his head, letting his finger linger a few moments longer, pumping it in and out of your mouth in slow strokes. “Such a pretty mouth, but does such dirty things for me, doesn’t it?”

You nod for him before Joel pulls his finger out of your mouth and moves back to position himself between your legs.

“Legs up, just like that,” Joel says, manually lifting your legs so that your knees are bent with your feet flat on the desk, legs immediately falling open for him. He takes a long pause to look at your completely exposed cunt, a burning look of desire in his eyes.

“Poor baby, ain’t ya? So wet and ready with no cock inside ya to ease the pain. You achin’ for daddy’s cock, sugar?” Joel delivers a swift slap to your pussy that sends your hips lurching forward for a moment before he laughs. 

Asshole, you think with a little rush of desire. But this absolute asshole is about to make you come, so you decide against saying anything of the sort.

“Mhm,” you say instead. “Need you to use me and fuck yourself better, daddy.” Joel nearly snarls at the nickname leaving your mouth, starting to undo his belt as he lowers his head in between your legs. One hand is gripping onto your thigh while the other steadily works to free his cock from his pants, palming it tightly as his mouth licks a long strip up your pussy. His fingers dip inside of you gathering up your arousal before he brings it down to his cock, spreading it along the lengthy shaft. He moans into your cunt as he licks, beginning to stroke himself as he tastes you. 

You’ve never been treated like this before, like Joel is a man hungry for his last meal as he ravenously slurps and licks up every bit of arousal that keeps pouring out for him. His enthusiastic yet gruff reactions and noises start a vicious cycle - you’re so turned on by it that you’re getting impossibly wet, and in turn, Joel laps it up like he’s never tasted anything better in his life. It brings you close to the brink faster than you’d expected, another high quickly building low in your stomach. The tingling sensation starts to overtake every one of your senses and you let out a moan low and deep from your throat.

“Oh, Joel, p-please, I’m so close…” you murmur, your head rolling wildly on the desk as his tongue flicks on your clit and then sucks for a few pulses. “Daddy…” you whimper, and the guttural noise he makes is indescribable before he pulls off of you completely. You cry out, feeling tears start to form in your eyes at the injustice he’s been serving on your pussy tonight.

“Let daddy play with you a bit, it’s half the fun,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, and it instantly adds to your frustration just how much he’s getting off on this. The sound of his hand slapping against his own flesh comes and goes, and he seems to be bringing himself close to climaxing along with you.

He brings you back to the edge again moments later with just the lightest flicks of his tongue right on your clit, and as he senses your entire body tensing he stops again, leaving a desperate moan to die out in your throat as you’d nearly reached the throes of ecstasy again.

“Please… I’m begging you, it’s too much, Joel,” you whine. Your whole body is starting to tremble, your hips squirming along the surface of your desk from the throbbing of your swollen, aching heat just wanting him to give you release.

“Little longer, babydoll, be a good girl and keep begging me,” Joel replies.

“Please, let me come, I’ll do anything,” you say, your frown deepening despite the way that you’re also getting off on this, maybe just as much as him. You’ve never had someone give you so much careful, specialized attention like this - taking the time to make you feel this insanely turned on and desperate for them. 

Joel puts his face between your legs again while you let whispers of your continued begging along with his name pass your lips over and over until he edges you one more time and you nearly scream, letting out a choked back moan for him instead.

“Music to my ears,” Joel chuckles, and you breathe heavily, then peer down at him with your slick covering his face from the way he’s been indulging himself repeatedly on your pussy and you feel yourself clenching, nearly reaching your climax from the sight of him like that alone.

You nearly feel like passing out at this point, your breathing so erratic and body so overstimulated that you nearly can’t take it anymore when Joel returns to his former position, but this time inserting two fingers, stretching you as he scissors them apart while his tongue works on your clit. You cry out a furious whimper, your body bordering on madness as you feel Joel push deep inside of you with his fingers before pressing right on the perfect, spongy part inside that has your eyes rolling back.

“H-holy shit,” you blurt out, the tension coiling deep in your belly quickly as Joel presses over and over while he works his tongue on your abused clit. His other hand pushes down low on your belly, only increasing the sensation of everything and you’re panting, wild, incorrigible sounds flying out of your mouth.

“Don’t stop, please, please, don’t… let me come this time, I can’t take it anymore,” you manage to say as your body tumbles towards a cliff, your insides clawing for release and escape from this heavenly torture he’s put putting you through. Joel doesn’t stop this time, but intensifies everything - his fingers, his mouth, his warm, large palm pushing down on the bottom of your stomach.

You scream over and over, barely registering the sheer volume of the sound leaving your mouth as you gush and spasm onto him, the tether to reality snapping as you're transported to another place for a few moments, your vision going dark as you squeeze your eyes shut in pure bliss. You’re coming so hard that it seems like it’s never ending, sloppy, wet noises filling the room along with your little sobs. A sudden gush escapes you in the midst of everything, and when you finally come down, only then do you realize the reason everything felt so unreal for a moment, so much.

You can feel the excess wetness on your dress, all over the desk underneath you, and you nearly die with embarrassment at how much of a mess you’ve made because of this man, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind one bit, sliding you forward and wrapping his arms underneath your back, sitting you up and pulling you to your feet. You sway dazedly in your current state, practically useless to speak, think, or move, but Joel seems to be covering those bases for the two of you.

He swings your body in his grip, slamming your back against a nearby tall cabinet full of files that you’d spend hours helping organize, but you tear your mind away from the droll thought and back to Joel, whose cock is now pressing against your slick folds as he lifts one of your legs and hooks under your knee, holding it up.

“Fuckin’ filthy girl for me aren’t you? Squirting all over the place… like the way I make you come, don’t you?”

“Fuck yes, I do. S-so- so good,” you reply, hips bucking forward towards his cock despite the oversensitivity now raging there. He pushes in with one swift stroke, burying himself deep and you yelp at the sudden stretch. You’ve been warmed up plenty, but the sheer size of Joel is still enough to cause a sharp moment of discomfort before your body adjusts.

“I know, c’mon babydoll, you can take it. Want to make me feel good, don’t you?” Joel coos, his voice a little gentler now, urging you along. 

You nod enthusiastically for him, grinding forward to take the last bit of him into you until he’s fully seated. He grins wildly, his eyes flashing intensely as he starts to fuck you in earnest, snapping his hips into yours quickly.

“That’s a good girl for me,” he praises as you continue to take his cock over and over, and you’re so full, you can feel everything - him throbbing against your walls as he slides in and out.

“So f-fucking full of you, Joel,” you murmur as you flutter your eyes. 

“That’s right, babydoll, y’like my big cock using your little pussy, like it when I fill you up,” he grunts as his breath starts wavering more. Your own body is trembling, another climax building right where Joel’s cock is slamming into you each time he pushes in again. 

“Yes, Joel, fill me up today. Don’t pull out,” you beg.

Joel groans loudly, and you feel a rush of satisfaction at the way your words hold so much power over him. You can feel how you drive him wild, in and out of your own private world in his office. The way he steals glances at you, ogles your short skirts and dresses, the cleavage that you show for him, down to right now, when simply telling him to come inside of you has him practically spasming.

“Want me to fill you up with daddy’s come, that it? Like the little slut for me you are,” Joel retorts, his movements more sporadic now as he chases his own climax. 

“Only if it’ll help your day get better, Mr. Miller,” you tease with eyelashes fluttering, and Joel lets out a strangled little chuckle, his eyes completely glazed over with lust as you look into them. 

“Fuckin’ kiddin’ me, sugar, ‘course it would,” he says simply, letting out a little moan as he feels you squeeze around him slightly as he brushes against your walls over and over.

“Then do it, fill me up, daddy,” you say, and Joel doesn’t need to hear anything more, can’t hear anything more as he thrusts deeply into you and you gasp, feeling him come and fill you up so deeply. You milk every bit of it out of him, feeling your own climax overtake you unexpectedly at the pure power trip you’ve gotten from making him come this hard. You shudder into his cock still inside of you, your own white creaminess coating his shaft along with his cum and you let out a breathy moan at the sight of it pulling out of you a few moments later. 

“Sure made a mess, bad little girl,” Joel sucks his tongue between his teeth a few times, chastising you. “Half a mind to make you clean all this up.” He shakes his head as he steps away, but you just smile bashfully at him, still leaning against the cabinet, dripping pussy and tits still falling out of your dress. 

“Really gonna ask that from me after all I did for you tonight, baby?” you ask him with a saccharine smile, your voice dripping honey like off your tongue. 

“Lookin’ like that? No way in hell. You just stand there pretty and let me get a good look at ya all fucked out like that f’me,” Joel replies, tucking himself back into his pants. 

You spy your underwear on the ground, and as Joel follows your eyeline he swipes them off the floor, but tucks them in his back pocket again instead of handing them over to you. After the second time, you can see this is one of his things, and take a mental note to buy some more panties.

“Need to do this more often, don’t we?” Joel asks as he settles back into his office chair, groaning a little as he goes down. 

“Absolutely,” you grin.