#please do not let people put ink in your eyes.

[a-dragons-journal]

how to get black scelera without the eye surgery thing?? just curious if there's a way

I believe the only safe way to do it right now is via full-scleral contact lenses.

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ imagining heian era! sukuna tending to his pregnant wife, and slowly warming up to having a child.

౨ৎ when he finds out you are pregnant, he goes full 'nonchalant, but worried husband' mode. he did not want kids. he thought they were lousy and annoying, and they would not bring any use to his bloodline. he told you that this would just get in his way, and that you should find a way to get rid of it. but the way you looked up at him with your adorable dazzling eyes? eh, he could make it work, just for you. but he found it hard to warm up to the idea of having children.

౨ৎ hires the best of the best to guarantee your health is in tact. doctors? you will have daily checkups, which included the doctor coming to the estate, and keeping track of your daily prgress while you are bedside. such as seeing if the baby is kicking, how large your stomach grows, and even recommending you a special diet to hold the nutrients for your baby. he is doing all of this for you, not that pesky baby. handmaidens? they will double in number. you are more fragile than ever, and in his eyes, you need all of the female support you can get that he cannot provide.

౨ৎ would host a grand babyshower. there would be hundreds, even thousands of guests at your babyshower. it would be hosted somewhere with a large, outside venue, bustling with people coming to support you. people would give you their blessings, hoping the best for the newcoming ryomen. gifts for the baby such as clothes, furniture, etc. and for you? people will gift you a plethora of things. jewelry, trinkets, and everything under the sun. the citizens of the nearby villages will bow to your feet, wishing you the best. your pregnancy will be treated as an event. around the villages, it will be talked about.

౨ৎ makes a extravagant nursery for your child. it will be in a large room, making extra space for your baby. sukuna will notice you spend alot of time there, watching you decorate the nursery to your pleasing day by day. liked seeing you struggle to put the furniture together, as you are forced to ask him for help, as you watch his assemble a bassinette. you could tell he was starting to get used to the idea of having a child around the estate. as you list off all of your ideas for how you would decorate, he liked to think you might be a suitable mother.

౨ৎ you held a giant journal of names, keeping track of each one as time goes by. you wrote in the journal with an ink pen, sometimes even letting sukuna in on the name choosing. as you sat on his lap in his large office, he would suggest 'little roach', or 'annoying brat' for some of the names, which was quickly shut down. you will think intently upon each name, asking sukuna on his opinion. sukuna thinks he should be the one naming the child, but with his suggestions, that will not be happening. you'd be better off asking some of your handmaidens for advice.

౨ৎ would ask any ladies in the estate for advice as well. this is something he thought he would never have to do. but he finds it difficult to ajust to your pregnancy, due to your influx in hormones, making you seem emotional all the time. would ask your handmaidens why you become so emotional, but they seem offended with the way he worded it. but they realize that sukuna is naturally brash, so they help him by giving him tips and tricks for fatherhood. he tries his best, mostly caring about what he thinks is best for you, not so much your child.

౨ৎ liked looking at your stomach more often than he thought he would. he never knew you would look so goddamn cute swollen with his child, but here he was, watching as you lay in bed, reading a book of poems, as he sees his future child kicking inside your uterus. you child was larger than an average one, he noticed, due to his abnormal genes. placing his large hand over your stomach, he could feel every single kick, asking you questions as it happens. "why does this brat kick so much? tell him to stop." "kuna, hes a baby..." "i do not care, he needs to learn to stop being so restless."

౨ৎ your delivery will send him into internal panic. he demands that he is in the room with you, holding your hand. but your large group of handmaidens by your side strongly disagree, reccomending that he let you be. but making sure you were okay was his top priority, so he stayed in the large bedroom where you gave birth. your head and body would be covered in towels, your hands tightly cuffing your handmaidens. it was extremely painful, as your screams could be heard from afar. but with the way sukuna had rubbed his thumb on your cheek, it made you feel slightly better. after you, he would be the first to hold your child, demanding so himself.

౨ৎ he wants a boy, 100%. he is hoping for a strong heir that can add onto his legacy, even though it isnt entirely necessary. if he ends up having a son, he will teach him the ways of manhood. teaching him how to hunt his own humans, how to properly court a lady (in his mind), and how to become as strong as him someday. and most of all, how to take care of his mother. he will not tolerate any disrespect towards you. he will call his son names like 'ryomen 2.0', or 'annoying rat'.

౨ৎ but if he gets a girl? he will be upset when he finds out. but he will come around to love her after quite a while. will go from calling her a nuisance, to hosting mini tea parties with her stuffed animals which were gifted by her auntie handmaidens, squeezing himself into a small chair at a small dining table with fake tea and pastries. he will truly care for his daughter, and will become extremely overprotective over her. he will call her 'little princess', or 'spoiled brat'.

౨ৎ enjoys watching you tend to your children. he secretly enjoyed the fact that he could call you 'the mother of his children'. being domestic with you is something he had never imagined in his life, but here he was, burping your small newborn over his shoulder with one hand. he likes to see the way your eyes light up when your child walks for the first time, or when they say their first words. he doesnt think it is important, but since its you, he doesnt say anything. "woman, what are you freaking out over?" "come quick! he just said 'papa'!" "i knew it, thats my child alright."

౨ৎ but he will absolutely refuse to change the babys diapers. do not ever ask him to do that, he will very rudely decline. bu dont worry. like everything else, he will come around to do so.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

reunion

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: Slow burn; unrequited love; angst; yearning; divorced Art Donaldson; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; safe sex

Summary: It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson is supposed to be here?"

The question is whispered behind you and makes your hand freeze in its signing. You're half-bent over the table at reception, fingers tight around a pen as your mind is jogged.

No way was he turning up, that's what Anne had said.

Tashi will be there, she's the head of the goddamn reunion committee, the ink is still wet on their divorce—that's what Anne had said. Hell, she'd sworn it.

So what the hell is he doing here?

The sound of your name jogs your attention and you manage to finish signing in. You straighten, taking up your name tag and haphazardly slapping the adhesive onto your top. You need a drink, and quickly. You're halfway to the bar before you feel someone wind their arm through yours.

"Okay, I know you didn't wanna come—"

"Anne."

"And I so appreciate you being here so that I didn't have to come alone—"

"Anne—"

"But I got some news and it's going to be a little shocking so I think you should hear it from me—"

"I know he's here."

"What?" Anne freezes, her arm dropping from yours. You turn to see her looking stricken, her cheeks pinking with panic and embarrassment. You sigh softly, glancing around your fellow alumni. Less than half of them look familiar; your eyes catch on the odd face before you realize that you're inadvertently looking for him.

"Look, there are, like...Five hundred people here, alright?" You add. "I probably won't even see him."

"We can go."

"Look, we made the trip, we're here, we may as well stay. It's fine, okay? We're all adults here! It doesn't matter!" Your insistence is chased by a slightly hysterical laugh. "It was, like, a hundred years ago."

"...You're sure?"

"I am positive."

Positive that you need a drink, and positive that you're going to regret agreeing to stay.

--

It wasn't that Art Donaldson was the one that got away. It was more like Art Donaldson was the one that never really knew you existed.

You were friends, sure. You palled around, had a few classes together, hung out at a few parties—but he was so in love with Tashi Duncan that you'd never made his romantic radar. You'd forced yourself to believe that that was for the best, that you didn't need his love or romantic validation to be happy. But you couldn't pretend that wanting him didn't sting.

He'd had a couple of girlfriends while you were at Stanford, but you could always feel, always see that they were never really his priority. It was Tashi, then tennis, then them.

The two of you had kept touch a little after college, but you'd pushed yourself to move on. Conversation had begun to fade, and when he hadn't tried to keep it up, you had resolved to let him go.

You'd avoided his name in the news as much as you can, but it had been hard. He was on billboards, packaging, tv—it was like you couldn't escape him.

Want melted to sadness; sadness shifted to annoyance; annoyance hardened into disdain. You couldn't see his likeness or hear his name without rolling your eyes. It wasn't his fault, of course, but the prospect of running into Art fuckin' Donaldson made you queasy.

Still, you put on a brave face for Anne, forcing your focus into conversation.

It's a struggle to keep your gaze from seeking him out. You take each sip with a little white lie, convincing yourself that you're looking to make sure you can avoid contact. You spot Tashi a couple of times, but you don't go out of your way to say hello. She's surrounded by a cloud of people—taking pictures, signing programs and name tags and old Duncanator shirts.

When Anne insists on going to say hello, you force a small smile.

"You, um—you go ahead," You nod, taking a couple of steps back. "I'm gonna get some air."

Anne's dark eyes flit over you questioningly before she blessedly lets it go, nodding and going on her way. You turn, swiping a fresh drink off of a passing waiter's tray as you leave.

It takes a few moments for the buzz of conversation to clear from your head. You take a gulp of the prosecco, wrinkling your nose. It's a little sweeter than you usually like, and doesn't mingle well with the three other drinks that you've downed. Tashi's not going to find your lack of presence or greeting conspicuous; you'd been cordial and on speaking terms in college, but the two of you had never been close.

Damn, but it's chillier outside than you thought it would be. The reception had been so warm, so crammed with people. Paired your head being near-permanently on a swivel, you hadn't realize how hot and tense you'd been.

You frown at the waft of cigarette smoke that catches your nose. Who the hell is still smoking in this day and age—

"Are you hiding, too?"

Maybe you can feign that you didn't hear him—that the sound of his voice didn't jog a hundred memories and trigger a flurry of butterflies. But before you can stop yourself, you turn, the words, "I thought you quit smoking," tumbling out of your mouth.

Art's smile widens as he draw the cigarette back from his lips, a stream of smoke pushed out of the side of his mouth.

"I did. Quit quitting, though." He takes one more puff before he flicks it away, drifting closer. "Hi."

Hi, like it's not the first time you've seen him in the better part of a decade. Hi, like neither of you are oceans from where you where when you last saw one another.

"Hi," You manage. He doesn't hesitate to draw you into his arms; he seems to almost do it without thinking. You only allow yourself a moment of resistance before you raise and curl your arms around him. The clean scent of his pressed jacket and woodsy cologne are muddled with smoke. The fingers of one if your hands curls covetously in the fabric of his jacket as his palms smooth gently over your back. You hear him draw in a deep breath, feel him hold it, and then release it with a soft hum.

"How the hell are you?"

Probably better than you are these days.

You shrug a little, mumbling, "Fine."

He draws away, eyes skating across your face.

"You don't sound so sure about that."

"I'm sure."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

You can feel him winding up for another pass at it, but you hold your glass out before he can. His fingers brush against yours as he drains it.

"Why are you hiding?" You ask. He shrugs, nods toward the door.

"It's a lot in there. I forgot what these events are like."

"People wanna congratulate you. They're proud."

"Are you?"

"I am, but I'll hold off. Don't wanna crowd you."

Your attention is drawn from Art's smile as you hear someone clearing their throat over the speaker system inside:

"If we could have the reunion chairpersons to the stage, please!"

You glance toward Art and find him fidgeting, his thumb smoothing across his bare ring finger.

"…Do you wanna go back in?" You offer. He considers before he says, "Wait here."

You watch curiously as he darts inside, and are stunned when he reappears a moment later. You just barely catch a glimpse of the bottle of champagne clenched in his fist before he rests his other hand on your lower back, steering you away with an urgent murmur of, "C'mon."

--

"I'm surprised you came," You tell him. Art doesn't look at you for a moment, and you take the chance to lean back against the hard plastic seat. He's as beautiful as he was the last time the two of you were together, the night before graduation—practically in the same seats. You don't know if he was thinking about that when he'd led the way into the stands, chosen where to sit. Maybe it was pure muscle-memory.

Either way, you don't know how long the two of you have been sitting out there, knees bumping, passing the bottle back and forth. You take in his profile—the slope of his nose and cut of his jaw; the bob of his adam's apple as he swallows.

"My therapist said it would be good," He finally admits. "Told me I needed to get out more, start getting back into events, work at the foundation...What about you, huh?" He turns, brows raising. "You always told me that you hated this stuff."

You're surprised he remembers.

"I do hate this stuff, but," You shrug. "Anne didn't want to come alone."

"You're a good friend. I never forgot that." He sits up and passes the bottle back to you. "What happened to us, huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why did we stop talking?"

I couldn't keep begging for scraps of attention.

"I don't know," You deflect. "Guess we just lost touch. It happens."

"I shouldn't have let it happen to us."

You look down at the bottle, sweeping your finger across a slipping drop of condensation.

"You were busy."

"You weren't?"

"Not in the same way," You laugh self-consciously.

"What were you busy with then, huh?" He shifts, thigh pressing against yours. "You used to always say you'd uh—burn out by twenty-six."

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"Oh, it didn't take nearly that long."

"What!" He laughs. "What the hell happened?"

"I don't know what to tell you, man. A girl can only take a soul-sucking marketing job for so long."

"So what do you do now?"

"Still in marketing, but I'm a manager, so. Still soul-sucking, but making a little more money."

"You like it?"

"God no, but I don't know what else I would do." You pass the bottle back.

"Could find something for you at the foundation."

You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head as Art sputters a laugh, asks, "What?"

"Don't do that, Art."

"Don't do what?"

"I don't need, you know—"

"We could use you—"

"You don't even know what I do at work."

"I bet it's great—"

"You don't even know if I'm a good worker—"

"Sure I do, I know you."

"No, you don't!"

You know it's a mistake the second it leaves your mouth. Art's smile wavers as he leans away again.

"I just mean—" You try.

"I know what you mean. It's been a long time."

"...Yeah, it has." You take the bottle back, drawing deeply from it before passing it back. "I should get going. I'm sure Anne's looking for me."

"Sure."

You don't say goodbye or tell him that it was nice to see him. You just make as hasty a retreat as you can without tripping over your feet.

--

@ a_donaldsonofficial requested to follow you. 3h

You're not sure what surprises you more—the follow request or the message in your DMs: Dinner?

--

His groan is sinful and low, and makes you rethink ever losing contact with the guy. Under the warm glow of the diner's lights, his eyes slip shut, fingers tightening around the bun.

"...When's the last time you had a burger?" You finally manage to ask.

"I can't remember." He admits it through the mouthful, and you don't begrudge him the couple of flecks of food that land on the table. You smile, plucking up a couple of fries.

"Art?"

"Mm."

"Why'd you ask me to dinner?"

Art sets the burger down as he swallows, taking off his napkin to clean off his hands.

"I was thinking...About what you said at the reunion."

"Mhm."

"About me not knowing you. You're right. But you know what?" He presses on before you can process your surprise. "I don't think you know me, either."

You think for a moment, brows furrowing. He's right. You know the image of Art Donaldson that's been projected to you over the years—on tv screens, in magazines, in online clips.

"...I don't think I do," You agree.

"Figured we should fix that. Catch up, fill each other in on what we've missed."

"Okay."

"So, after college..." He trails off, waving his hand. "Fill me in."

"Moved to New York."

"Uh-huh."

"Working in marketing."

"Burned out before 26—"

"Yeah, hit my capitalistic peak at 23."

"That fast?"

"I mean, that's the last time I remember giving a shit about work, so. Yeah."

"Relationships?"

"...A couple," You admit.

"Serious?"

"Yeah. One."

"Married?"

"No. Engaged." His eyes drop to your bare left hand, and you hurriedly tuck it into your lap. "Formerly engaged."

"What happened?"

"It just didn't feel right. I don't think either of us were ready."

"...Was it anyone I knew? I don't remember you dating much at school."

"Guess I didn't."

"You weren't shy."

"Well no, but—"

"So what was it?"

"I had the worst crush on you, dude!" It's another mistake, but where the last one seemed to make Art retreat, this one leaves his gobsmacked. His eyes widen, mouth opening in a wide smile.

"You what?"

"Oh, kay, you know what—"

"I had no idea!"

"I was very subtle."

Art leans back in the diner booth, watching you openly. You can see the gears turning in his head, and you wonder what he may be remembering, holding up and twisting about in this new light.

"...Huh," He mutters.

"You can feel free to forget that at any time."

"I don't think I will...I wish I'd known."

You consider for a moment before you shrug. "I don't know. I'm kinda glad that you didn't."

"Really?" His brows knit with confusion. "Why?"

"I don't like coming second, Art."

Art nods slowly, and you see something tight pass across his face before it's smoothed away again.

"You know what?" He smiles bitterly. "Neither do I."

You nod toward his plate.

"Your burger's getting cold."

--

"So, uh..." Art clears his throat as the two of you take slow, drifting steps to your car. "I'm gonna say two things, and I don't want you to think that they've got anything to do with what you said earlier."

You know exactly what he means, but you just grumble, "I said a lot of things earlier."

"I think we both know which one I'm talking about."

"Uh-huh. So what's up?"

"...I wanna see you again."

"Okay."

"But things are a little...Messy right now. Tashi and I are working on getting Lily into a regular rhythm and it's harder than we thought it would be."

You lean back against your car, tucking your hands into your pockets.

"Mhm...I hesitate to ask."

"Yeah."

"How does this have to do with what I said earlier?"

"I just don't want you to think that this is—"

"A consolation prize?"

"Something like that."

"Whatever you need to do to get in a good place with Lily is fine, Art, you don't need to justify that to me."

"Even if it means you come second?"

You tip your head to the side, pursing your lips. "It's different when it's your kid. I meant that I didn't want to be second to—You know."

"...Yeah," He mutters, looking at his feet as he takes another foot forward. "And for the record, I was thinking of asking you out again by the time we sat down."

"You could've changed your mind."

"I didn't. And I don't want to."

You smile, nodding. "Well I don't want you to, either." You straighten up as you fish into your bag for your keys. "Call me the next time you're in New York."

"Sure."

You reach out, cupping his cheek and leaning in, pecking his cheek. You pull away, smiling at the flush creeping across his face.

"Goodnight, Art."

"Night."

--

It isn't easy at first. Messages are far and few, mostly how are yous and how was your days. You think that as nice as the little swell of contact has been, that's all it'll be—but the two of you both start to really try. The odd text becomes the weekly phone call. Weekly phone calls become daily FaceTimes. On the nights when he has Lily, they're late, usually when you're getting ready for bed. On the nights when he's on his own, the two of you eat dinner together and chat over your calls. It isn't always perfect, but it's more than you could've anticipated from that dinner a couple of months ago.

--

"She down?"

"Yeah."

"Are you in a hotel again?"

"...Yeah." Art seems to admit it grudgingly, and you smile a little as you take up your toner and a cotton pad.

"There's nothing wrong with leaning into it if it's working," You argue. "And not to be that bitch, but you're not exactly broke."

"Might be if she keeps ordering room service and movies on-demand."

You laugh softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you swipe the toner across your face.

"How's your day been?" Art asks.

"Fine, standard. I had to fill out an assessment ahead of my annual review."

"When's that?"

"End of the week."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Mm," You shrug reaching for a serum. "Fine, I guess. I'm doing okay, my team's hitting their targets."

"You're doing better than okay."

"Art."

"You are."

"Well. Thank you for that." You glance over as he goes quiet, catching a glimpse of him as you smooth the serum into your skin. You raise your brows at the sight of his gentle, warm smile. "What is it?"

"You're beautiful."

Your face goes warm at the compliment, and you bite the inside of your cheek to tamp down your wide, idiotic smile.

"You are tired, huh," You deflect.

"I mean it."

"...I know," You murmur, reaching for your moisturizer. "Tell me what you got up to today."

"I had a meeting at the foundation. We're starting planning for the gala."

"Oh yeah? Have you done them before?"

"We've had three before, but I was usually playing or training, so I haven't been as involved in the planning."

"How's it been?"

"We're still in the preliminary stages, but it's been interesting, you know, seeing how the pieces come together before I usually see them."

You nod, picking the phone up from the mirror holder and heading into your bedroom.

"Where are you gonna have it?"

"We're still scouting locations...As a matter of fact," Art adds, "We're considering a few in New York."

"Oh?"

"I'll be down there for at least a few days, and I wanna see you."

You grin bashfully as you climb into bed, settling against your pillows.

"I wanna see you, too. Are you gonna, um—I mean, is Lily gonna be with you?"

"No, it'll be Tashi's weekend."

"Okay, cool. Just wanna make sure I don't mess up your time."

"I appreciate that." Art's tongue swipes across his lower lip, eyes sweeping across your face. "I gotta say..."

"Mmm?"

"I'm looking forward to seeing your apartment."

"Oh, really?" You chuckle. "Why's that?"

"It'll be interesting, that's all. I mean, you already take me to bed every night."

You laugh, covering your eyes as you groan, "Oh, god, shut up!" as Art chuckles.

"Let me know when you're free," You add. "Your schedule's gonna be weirder than mine."

"Yeah, I will, as soon as I know what it is." You watch as Art lays down, propping his phone up on the nightstand. "...Can you stay on?"

"Yeah," You soothe, setting your phone on the nightstand in suit. "Until we fall asleep."

"Okay," He murmurs. The two of you settle in on your sides, watching one another on the phone.

"Night, Art."

"Sweet dreams."

--

The restaurant is picked. Your nails are done, your hair is done; you get a new dress, new shoes, a new bag. You're going to have an amazing night—a good dinner, a great conversation, and, if you have any luck, an amazing good night kiss.

--

You know the minute you see him that you're not making it to the restaurant. Art's eyes sweep over you in covetous wonder when you open the door. He closes the gap between the two of you, drawing you into his arms, and this time you go without a second thought. He presses his face into your neck, letting out a gentle hum at the scent of your perfume. The tip of his nose trails up over your jaw, his lips brushing the corner of your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He sighs as you draw in a nervous breath, and he sways in, lips pressing to yours.

You raise your hand to cup his neck, shivering as his hands smooth over your hips. He guides you deeper inside, blindly reaching back and shoving the door shut behind you as you fling your purse toward the bench in your entryway. His kisses grow hungrier as he steers you down the hall. You slip your tongue along his, smoothing your hand up to grasp his hair. Your fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt, exposing more of his pale, muscled chest to you. He slides down the zipper on the back of your dress and leans away just long enough to draw the dress up over your head. His eyes sweep across you, taking in your lingerie.

You hook your thumbs under the band of your underwear, giving them a teasing wiggle as you back further away from him. You expect him to follow, but he steers you back against the wall, dropping his head to suck hot kisses along your neck and down to your chest. He yanks one of the cups of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, tipping your head back against the wall and whining as he slots his knee between your thighs. You roll your hips down against the hard muscle as he laves and teases your nipple, reaching up to thumb and tweak the other.

"Art—Mm, god that feels so good."

He groans against your skin, trailing his kisses further down as he lowers himself to his knees. You look down as he curls his fingers around your panties—and waits. You smile softly, nodding, murmuring, "Please?"

Art grins, pressing a kiss to your hip before he gently eases the fabric down, waiting for you to lift your feet so he can fling them away. He leans in, swiping his tongue across your aching clit. Your knees would knock if he wasn't wedged between them. You draw in a shallow breath, letting your head tip back as he draws your leg over his shoulder. You shiver at the feeling of the chilly air against your heated, slick flesh. He nuzzles and laps against your cunt, taking each tip of your hips in stride. His hand smooths up your trembling inner thigh, giving your ass a gentle squeeze before he teases a finger into you. You whimper at the touch, unable to help the way your pussy clenches around it.

Art groans at the feeling, turning his head to smear his lips slips against your hip.

"Goddamn," He breaths against you.

"More."

You feel more than hear his gentle chuckle as he eases another finger in.

"Need it bad, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I'm getting a pretty good idea." He turns his head, leveling a sucking kiss to your clit that makes you cry out. You tighten your grip on his hair as he pumps his fingers harder, curling and scissoring them as he pushes you closer to the edge.

"Art—Mm, god, fuck, yes—Yes—" Your toes curl in your shoes as your hips rabbit down against his face and fingers, chasing the swell of your orgasm. You look back down as he draws back and find his lips and chin shining with your juices.

"Bed," He urges.

"You can fuck me right here."

Art laughs, standing and smoothing his hand over your thigh.

"We're doing this right."

"We could be doing this right...." You slid your hand down his chest to palm his cock through his pants. "Here."

You grin as Art's eyelids flutter, his dick twitching against you.

"Bed," He insists again.

It isn't far to go, and the two of you are entirely bare by the time you get there. You scooch back onto the bed, spreading your legs as he rolls on a condom. He's over you a moment later, and you watch the bulge of his biceps as he braces his hands on either side of your head. You bite your lip as you feel the brush of his cock against your entrance. You reach down, grasping his cock and guiding him closer.

You tip your head up, tongue teasing the seam of his lips as he eases into you. You melt into the mattress as he crushes against you, filling you completely. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding your legs over his, as if you'll manage to fuse the two of you together. Art's tongue swirls around yours before he captures your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips slowly.

"More," You plead, but Art keeps his pace achingly steady, even when you try to pick up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He breathes, "Even better than you taste."

"Harder, Art, please, god damn, please," You whimper. He tips his head to the side nipping at the hinge of your jaw as he reaches down, hiking your hip up even higher. Your mouth fell open with a stunned moan as he presses deeper, the slap of his hips filthily filling the stifling air around you. You arch up against him, nails raking down his back as you feel the swell of another orgasm.

"Art."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm—Fuck, almost—"

"That's it." He sucks his fingers between his lips before he slips them between your bodies, swiping across your tender clit. You begin to close your eyes, but he tuts softly.

"Don't—Don't close your eyes—Look at me," He orders between breaths. You force yourself to focus on Art, taking in the flush on his cheeks, his almost dazed eyes.

"You, too—" You urge.

"Yeah—"

"Oh—yeah," You gasp, unable to keep your gaze on his you cum. You feel Art's hips slap roughly against yours before he slows, groaning low in his chest. You draw in a deep breath as your heart pounds in your chest, sinking back against your pillows as he settles down over you. You smooth your hand over his nape, smiling as he nuzzles against your shoulder, dropping tender kisses to your skin.

"...Art?"

"Yeah?"

"I think we're going to be late for dinner."

--

"You know, I've been thinking."

"You've been doing a lot more than thinking, mister," You mutter, and grin as Art laughs. You cuddle closer against his side, nuzzling into his chest as he tightens his arm around your shoulders.

"I'm glad I didn't know you liked me in college."

"Really?" You tip your head up, brow furrowing. "Why's that?"

"...I wasn't ready for you back then." He smooths his fingers along your jaw, eyes wandering your face contemplatively. "It's like you said, you know. You would've come second."

You nod, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm.

"I don't think I was ready for you, either," You admit. Art smiles.

"And you are now?"

"More than."

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21

@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage​​​ ;  @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity

@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ;

@buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The wonders of ink

Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

‘Fred and George prank you by getting your clothes dirty, only to take you to the bathrooms to help you clean off’

A/N: I decided to repost (so nobody thought I was dead). I’ve been gone for so long and I feel guilty so I decided to deliver smut upon you all haha. My dear sister helped me to write this (Her Wattpad account is @Darkness_Donut. Feel free to give her a look if you’re in the Wattpad area)

T/W: Unprotected sex, The twins being kinda pervy, Groping, Double penetration

Fred and George put a lot of work into every prank.

Whether it was as simple as a ‘Hex Me’ note on Ron’s back or as sophisticated as creating a new type of chocolate that caused facial warts.

Not only did they put work into their pranks, but they also put pride into them. Each one was like their child, born and sent into the world to cause mischief. The prank they planned for you, however, was less like a prank and more like a plot for something even better than the typical annoyed scowl the pranks were usually met with.

While other students prepared for various classes and homework projects, Fred and George would stay locked in their dorm, perfecting the key catalyst for their interaction with you.

The twins were head over heels in love with you. While most people would approach you with a normal greeting and a proposition for a date, the twins needed to do more. Go big or go home was practically their motto. So when their newest creation was ready, all they had to do was wait for the perfect moment.

____________________________________________

You had been in the courtyard. Your nose stuck in the book that was cradled in your hands. So unsuspecting and sweet. The way the wind blew your hair, how your eyes were glued to the words.

George approached you, not too close that you’d notice but close enough that he could start phase one of the plan. He pulled out a small vial, the liquid inside a dark blue that stained the glass. He took a deep breath before uncorking the bottle and taking a step closer, ‘tripping’ over the tree branch and spilling the liquid over your uniform.

You squealed and moved the book aside, looking between the fresh stain and the redhead who threw it on you.

“George! What in Merlin's beard have you done?!”

George just shrugged his shoulders, putting on an apologetic look. The same look he gave his mum when she scolded him for putting a spell on Percy’s breakfast which caused the sausages to spout legs.

“I didn’t mean too, honest. I just kinda…tripped”

You did not look pleased, understandably so. George almost felt guilty but then he remembered the plan. It was all going smoothly, even if you might disagree.

“I feel awful. How about we go to the Prefects bathroom and get you cleaned up before it dries?”

With a sigh, you followed George.

The walk to the prefect's bathroom was filled with you grumbling about the stain and scolding George for not being careful. The bathroom was empty (all thanks to a little spell that temporarily made the door disappear). The baths were filled to the brim with hot water and bubbles, steam dampening the air.

Fred emerged from around one of the pillars, smirking as he looked you up and down.

“Good job, George. I knew you could get our girl here. You know, love, you should really clean up that stain. Wouldn’t want Snape taking away our hard earned points, now would you?”

George moved closer to you, his chest barely touching your back. Fred leaned against the pillar, staring at the black spot on your shirt. You crossed your arms, letting out a huff. You could practically see the burning desire in Fred’s eyes from across the room, the heat from George sneaking through the back of your shirt and warming your skin.

“You’d both like that, huh? Why don’t I just have a bath while I'm at it?”

George ignored your sarcastic tone and leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, sweetheart. We’ll get you nice and clean”.

Something about George’s soft tone caused your hands to rise to your top button, both sets of eyes glued to your fingers as they popped open the first button of many. One by one, your shirt slowly opened. The shirt had luckily (or unluckily) caught the liquid and stopped it from seeping through to your bra and skin underneath.

George helped you to slip the fabric from off your body before Fred stepped closer and took it from him. He held it up with a smirk.

“There’s nothing here, love. Maybe you just wanted to get naked for us”.

The white shirt was clean. Not a spot or stain in sight. The sight of your wide eyes and confused look made Fred chuckle. George rubbed your arms.

“Our newest prank, disappearing ink. We heard Harry talking about how his idiot muggle cousin had some so we wanted to make our own. We made it especially for you”.

Your hand darted out to snatch the fabric from Fred, smoothing your fingers over the fabric that was once stained to see if it was really gone. Both boys watched as your expression turned from confusion to shock to a mix of desire and anger. You were angry that the twins had tricked you and pulled you away from your book but you couldn’t help but feel hot at the thought that they made an ink just to get you in your bra. Maybe a reward for all their hard work wouldn’t be so bad.

George tugged on the bra clasp, his lips ghosting down your neck before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. A shiver ran up your spine at the feeling, but you didn't push him away. Fred toyed with the hem of your skirt, watching as your eyes glazed over with desperation.

“I need you both. Please make me feel good”

Fred tugged your skirt up, using his other hand to trace his fingers over the elastic of your underwear. He slowly trails your underwear down your smooth legs and helps you step out of them so your dripping folds are on display to him. As you look upon their faces, both of them lick their bottom lips in unison. George finally pulls your bra off, tossing it with your discarded shirt.

How could you look so innocent in just your skirt with your tits out? To the twins, you were like a graceful doe who wandered into the hunters' den. George practically growled as his hands groped your tits, squeezing the sensitive flesh. Your eyes closed and you let out a whimper that was sweeter than any sugary treat from Honeydukes.

Fred took the opportunity to unzip his trousers, shimmying them down enough to pull his cock out. Every noise that escaped your lips made it jerk in his hand. He stepped closer, his tip pressing snugly against your clit and leaving a splodge of precum. His hand wrapped around your thigh, tugging it up and over his hip while George held you upright. His head speared through your folds, your slick coating his shaft.

“Do you want this, love? You want me inside of you? Maybe we should see if that tight little hole can handle Georgie and I at the same time. I can feel how wet that makes you, Sweetheart. The thought of taking two cocks, we’d break that sweet pussy open”

George tugged at your earlobe with your teeth, only pulling back when a whine bubbled up from your throat.

“I think you want us to ruin you for other men”

Your voice couldn't have been more than a whisper, but it was filled with every dirty promise and beg that would only be privy to the twins’ ears.

“I want you two. I want other guys to look at me and know that I belong to you”

“Sweetheart, you already belong to us”

George moved his hand down to push his trousers down and pull his cock out, pressing it at your entrance before pulling you against him. His cock slid inside of you, your warm cunt hugging his shaft.

Fred brushed his fingertips against your clit, taking in the sight of your hole stretched around his brother's cock. It was gonna be a tight fit. He nudged at your entrance, his tip trying to find a space big enough to squeeze into. With a bit more persistence, he was pushing forward, the desperation to be buried inside of you fueling him.

You tried to stay still, trying not to squirm or clench. The stretch was so intense that you swore you could even feel the blood pumping through the veins decorating their shafts. Every pulse, every nudge felt like it would rip you in two.

When Fred’s tip finally pushed through the small opening, the squealed moan that left your lips was enough for George to press his hand to your lips to muffle any sound. As much as they loved the noises you were making, they couldn’t get suspended so close to graduating. There would always be other occasions to hear your pretty moans.

The sight was one to behold. The twins wished they could photograph your pussy stuffed with both of their cocks and frame it, only to watch the replay over and over.

An obscene squelching filled the room as they repeatedly stuffed their cocks into you. The stretch brings you closer to the edge than ever before. Your walls clenched, trying to both push their cocks out and pull them deeper. It didn't take long before you were cumming, clenching around them in a desperate need to be full of their cum.

George's hand stayed over your mouth, his lips whispering sweet praises in your ear. Fred lips were pressed against your forehead, giving chaste kisses here and there. Their groans echoed throughout the room when they felt you cum around them. You felt too good to be true. It took them 3 months to make that ink.

It was worth every single minute.

A mix of their cum flooded your insides, but there was so much that it started spilling out. But they didn't pull out just yet. With how much effort went into getting you between them, they were gonna make this last for as long as possible. It was only after they came down from their high that they noticed just how much of a mess you all made. Cum spots stained your skirt and their trousers. Fred’s chuckle caught your attention.

“Maybe we should clean you up for real this time”

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: people say suffering is what it means to be a shroud. you could not think more different.

WARNINGS: mentions of blood & self mutilation.

COMMENTS: PHEW THIS ONE WAS A DOOZY!!! idia stop being my muse pls 🙏🙏 i keep writing 2k - 3k word fics in one sitting because of you

“Don’t you wish the world treated him better?”

You blink, entranced by the swirls of green. The voice beckons you closer.

How was that door open...? It should have been closed, right...?

“Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else?”

More voices have joined.

“Don’t you want that for him and his brother?”

It sounds beautiful, like a symphony.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

You step closer, muscles relaxing as you slip under their spell. The voices are right. They deserved better. They should have been able to live where they pleased, to escape this island and their fate.

The voices giggle—they know they’re right.

They’ve reached you.

Black consumes your vision, blocking out the glowing green. You shut your eyes. Your world grows darker. There's a seizing in your chest and a fluttering in your heart as something pours into your body, staining you.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud.”

“Set us free, and we’ll set all of you free.”

—

The hallways are blaring red, but all Idia sees is the floor swimming in his vision. Ortho is by his side as he punches access code after access code into the door panels, running like he’s never run before. He has a stitch in his side but he keeps going, your face flashing in his mind.

He lost Ortho once. He’s not losing someone again.

It’s like the stairs last forever, winding deeper and deeper into the Earth. Idia doesn’t stop running once, even though he feels like he’s going to fall over and throw up. He’s almost one-hundred percent certain Ortho has carried him at some point but his mind is too messy and his vision is too muddled to care.

Time seems to slow as he reaches the bottom. He raises his head as his ears ring, and the second he lays eyes on you it’s like his vision is clear again. Ink pours out of you and the black markings on your face are all too familiar. Blue fire spits out from behind you and your shrieks are heartbreaking, like you’re wailing for something you want so badly but could never have. Wings sprout from your back, broken and crooked, feathers twisted and clumped. Your hands are worn and bloody from stretching at the walls, and that’s when Idia realizes—

You want to be free.

Guilt crashes over him and it's a critical hit. Of course. He should have been sure this is what you wanted. He should have known you’d get sick of life here, even though you said you loved him time and time again, even though you held him on all those nights that he couldn’t sleep because the thoughts were too much, even though you bonded with Ortho and stepped back for him, letting him set boundaries even though that meant not doing things you wanted to do, like holding his hand or kissing his forehead or playing with his hair.

He should have known this wasn’t the life you wanted.

The ring on his finger feels like nothing more than a heavy stone now.

—

It took years for Idia to open up to you about his family situation. In fact, he seemed to be braced for the possibility that you’d leave him in a heartbeat after hearing it. Your heart ached for him when he explained his past and his inevitable future in a soft, low voice, rushing through the whole thing as if it was the scariest thing he’s ever done.

You placed your hand on his knee once he stopped, letting his words trail off into the night.

“I understand you.” you’d said, looking him straight in the eyes. They seemed to glow in the darkness of his room, flickering like a fire about to be put out.

Idia curled in on himself that night, dragging a clump of his hair over his shoulder and twisting it into knots. You’d reached over and gently grabbed his hands, stopping him from tangling his precious hair. You’d gently smoothed out the fiery strands before kneeling in front of him, looking up at him as if paying him reverence.

“I want to stay with you.” you’d said softly, cradling his shaking, fragile hands in yours.

In that moment, it felt like his very heart was beating between your intertwined hands.

Soft sniffles filled the room that night, and you kissed each tear away. More kept coming, more and more and more, his eyes blotchy and red as he tried to keep quiet. You kept quiet too, whispering how much you cared about him and how if he would let you, you’d stay with him forever because you loved him and he deserved someone by his side. You kissed each tear well into the night, fighting his overwhelming sorrow with your love.

—

Your memories are patchy. It’s like you don’t remember who you are, or where you are. In the dark expanse of your mind, you remember two things.

Idia Shroud and Ortho Shroud.

Your throat feels heavy as your heart starts to palpate—what happened? Where is the green glow? Where are all the comforting voices that whispered your new future to you?

Where were the people you were fighting for?

“Vitals stable.” a faraway voice calls, a sharp clatter piercing through your quiet, inky haze, “Commencing full body scan for blot.”

Blot...

Your eyelids pry themselves open. All the energy has been sapped from your body, your limbs heavy and useless. The strings holding them up have been cut, and it's scary that you can’t remember how you were strung up in the first place.

“Mx, we ask that you please stay still.” the man above you is in a white coat, his hands holding a clipboard and a pen.

You nod passively. Something about him seems familiar enough.

His voice drones on statistics about your well being as your eyes slip shut again, and arms of sludge reach out from your mind and pull you back under the ink, into a deep sleep.

—

Idia is chewing on his fingernails again.

He wishes you were here to scold him for it and paint a new coat over them so he wouldn’t chew on them anymore, being too sentimental to mess up your hard work and too repulsed by the taste, even though he would only ever tell you the latter and—

You were still asleep.

Your vitals are stable, You are fine.

You are fine but there are still black scars all over your body.

Your vitals are stable but the marks will stay there forever.

You almost died and it’s his fault.

You want freedom and he took that away when he said “I do.”

He kissed you and he sucked the soul right out of your body, keeping it clutched in his hands because he’s selfish and stupid and why in the world did you even fall in love with him in the first place?

He has nothing to offer you.

Nothing but this.

Suffering and loneliness and contempt and headaches and cold nights and machines that fill your whole day, leaving no room for the whimsical leisure you enjoyed before. There are no more board games, no more trips to the school store, no more fresh air and nighttime walks, no more watching movies and eating gummy worms, no more talking to anyone who isn’t him.

The ring on his finger burns.

—

You don’t know how long it's been since you went to sleep.

You wake up to a room with dark walls and metallic shelves above your head. The bed (cot?) is firm underneath your body, which is adorned by a gray uniform. There’s a desk right across from you with a tablet and a chair. You can’t see anything it’s hooked up to. The one constant among all of these things seems to be the triangular details, criss-crossing and curving and connecting with each other.

They make your vision spin, so you look away.

You stay in bed.

For some reason your face and neck sting, as does your back. You trace the parts of your face that burn, finding that the areas are almost symmetrical on both sides.

What happened?

“...Idia?” you whisper, your left hand resting over your smoothly beating heart.

The door opens.

Your heart lurches into your throat when you see a dark uniform, fiery blue hair that swings well past his elbows, and eyes that are sunken in. His skin is as pale as ever, his lips chapped and bitten by worry, his nails stubbed and torn, but—

He came.

But it’s him.

He came when you called.

“...Idia—!” you gasp, choking on your words as you lurch forward and cough, black ink splattering all over your gray shirt.

“Easy!” he yelps, rushing to your side. You feel his cold hand press against your back and you lean into the touch, starved for it.

“What happened?” you ask between smaller coughs, following his hand and he lays you back down.

Idia bites his lip. He does not answer.

Instead, he turns his back to you and moves over to the desk grabbing the tablet. He still doesn’t look at you as he taps a few bottoms. He gnaws on his lower lip before twisting the chair to face you and sitting down.

“How much do you remember?” he counters your question with another question, eyes heavier than usual.

“I remember green.” you whisper, the intriguing whispers poking into the corners of your mind again, “I remember voices...they said sweet things to me.”

Idia winces as if that’s the last thing he wants to hear.

“You overblotted.” he says, so blunt it surprises both of you, “You went...deeper than you should have, and you overblotted.”

You touch your face. The burning sensation wiggles as if it’s been recognized, and is pleased. It’s like there's something under your skin, something alive and yearning,that was waiting for him to say it.

“Oh.” you whisper, and in turn, the voices begin to beckon you again.

“This is what it means to be a Shroud. Don’t you wish you three could live up on the surface, like everyone else? It’s not fair, is it? He deserves better. His brother deserves better. You all do. We can help you, we can make that happen, you just have to help us—”

“They were phantoms.” you breathe, tracing the lines on your face over and over and over and over and over—

You don't notice when he gets up and reaches for you. Idia grabs your hand when it looks like you’re pressing too hard, your nails digging into your skin. You stop immediately, looking up at him with glossy eyes and trembling lips.

“Idia...is this what it means to be a Shroud?” you ask, forming each word carefully.

The phantoms said as much.

But he says nothing.

“I don’t blame you if you decided this isn’t what you want, you know.” he says, tone flat and disinterested, like you’re someone he doesn’t even know.

“What do you mean?”

“Your phantom looked like it wanted to be free.” he says, tablet still in his hand.

He pulls up the footage of your rage and shows it to you—your crooked, clumped wings and your bloody, inky hands and your screams as you cry for freedom, freedom—

He misunderstands.

“Not for me!” you seize his wrist, squeezing it so hard you fear it’ll break but this important, “For you! Freedom for you! It’s always you and it always will be you! I wanted you to be free and Ortho to be free. I wanted all of us to be free—!”

You start coughing again, this time even harder. Ink splatters on your bed and this time Idia is on you, he’s truly with you, cradling you against his chest as the ink stains his uniform as well. It pours out of you like a dead, polluted river, and yet in a twisted way it’s a symbol of how much you care.

You vaguely feel his nose pressing against your head in the haze, whispering what sounds like swears and pleads but none of it reaches your ears over the sound of your coughing. By the time you’re done, both of you are thoroughly painted with the remnants of blot.

The voices are gone.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” he whispers it into your head like it's a confession, meant for your ears and your ears only, “I thought you...wanted to leave here. Leave me.”

His arms are around you like a vice grip.

You’re grateful you’re alive to see him be selfish.

“Idia...my love.” you say, equally as soft, “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to be with you?”

“It’s hard to believe!” he protests, voice cracking.

He pulls away from you, just enough to look over your face. His eyes are watery and he’s so vulnerable—you really scared him. His thumb traces down the parts of your face that burned, the parts of your face you know will be scarred for life now.

“Good thing I’m still here then.” you smile weakly, cupping his face, “I’ll remind you every single day.”

His ring no longer burns.

His left hand rests over your left, and your rings clink together as they connect.

You’re okay. You still want him. You’re alive.

“You’re crazy.” Idia groans, stepping forward and falling into your arms, “You are absolutely crazy. Any normal person would be running for their life right now, calling me a freak and hyperventilating. A normal person would never want to come back—”

His slumps over you like a big cat, arms encircling you in warmth once again. It’s his way of hiding his expression when he’s getting a bit too into his feelings—you know this by now.

“Goodness. It’s a good thing I’m madly in love with you then.” you laugh, hands splayed out on his shoulder blades as he hugs you again, “You know what they say about love making you do crazy things.”

“Please don’t ever do that again—oh Great Seven.” he squeezes you even tighter and you let him, putty in his hands.

“I’m not planning on it. I promise.”  you reassure him, “I don't want to leave you—”

“It’s not about leaving me, you could have died!” he protests, cradling the back of your head, “I’d be fine if you just left! If you were somewhere else...somewhere safe!”

“You would not be okay with that. Don’t pretend to be.” you chastise him quietly, and you know you’ve won when he goes quiet, “You want to keep me here, and you want me to stay. I want the same thing. You don’t have to pretend I’m a sacrifice that can be made. I didn’t fall in love with you because you’re noble or a goody-goody.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then—

“I love you so much.” he mumbles.

It’s a rare confession, one that has never lost his sweetness even after years together.

Now this, this is what it means to be a Shroud.

It means staying with each other no matter what.

It couldn't be farther from loneliness.

“I love you too.” you murmur back, and his thumbs trace your blot scars as he presses a single, barely noticeable kiss to your forehead.

[totalswag]

can i request rafe x fwb reader where reader finds out hes dating sofia and she goes to confront him that he didnt even have the decency to let her know their arrangement was over and he says "who said it was over?''

stuck in the middle - RAFE CAMERON

authors note as you guys may notice i'm finally publishing requests that you guys sent me. super sorry this was very late to publish. i hope you like what i wrote and it was what you hoped. so, thank you for sending this requests.

requests are still open so feel free to send them my way and i will get to them and put them into my docs :) if you click on the bold red ink it will take you to my ask box lovies!!!

summary you find out through people and social media sofia and rafe are together. you go to confront rafe about this since he never thought to tell you that your arrangement was over.

warnings friends with benefits, mentions of sex, cursing

Lately, you've been having this weird gut feeling in your stomach. No idea what the meaning behind it means but you want to find out what it could be. You started feeling this way whenever you were with Rafe on a random Wednesday.

Rafe and you have been friends with benefits for about three months now. When you two came to this agreement, you agreed that it was solely for your sexual pleasures and not to establish feelings for each other, and that the most important thing was to let each other know if one of you became serious with someone else so that the bargain could be broken off.

You overheard a rumor at a party this past Friday about Rafe and Sofia being together for a month. You couldn't believe your ears and wanted to vomit. Sofia works at the island's country club, and Rafe visits it from time to time.

The next day, you decided to do some research to be sure this was accurate. Even as you looked at her Instagram, the emotion returned. You checked her story highlights and discovered what you were looking for. Your stomach sank.

She had a couple pictures on her highlights that you knew were of Rafe, including one with his right hand on her thigh in his car and another with his back to her as he looks out into the distance. Based on what you discovered, they appeared serious.

What made you upset was the fact Rafe and you have been seeing each other for three months which meant he'd been with Sofia for who knows how long before he asked her to be his girlfriend.

"Why didn't he tell me?" You asked yourself, setting down your phone and running your hands through your hair, upset that you found out at random person at a party.

There's a part of you that doesn't want Rafe to be with Sofia. There's a part of you that wants him all to yourself. Regardless, he should've told you the arrangement was over.

That was the deal.

After thinking about what you should do, you decide you are confronting Rafe about this, tonight. You are gonna make it seem like you want to hookup but really you are telling him what you found out.

you- are you busy tonight? i wanna see you

rafe- funny you say that because i wanna see you too

rafe- meet me at the spot at 9pm.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," you tell your mom as you go past the living room, holding your keys. "I'm going to hang out with Samantha."

"That's fine, sweetie; please stay safe tonight, I love you," your mother adds, smiling.

When you get to the spot you see Rafe sitting in his car on his phone. You parked your car next to him so he knows it's you- when he sees you get out, he unlocks the car.

You sigh casually as you sit in the passenger seat.

Rafe says smiling "Hey pretty girl" in a tone that makes you weak in the knees, leaning over the center console to kiss you but you pull back.

"We need to have a little chat, Rafe," maintaining eye contact.

His smile fades, and he looks at you, puzzled, "What do you mean?" His response indicated that he was nervous or knew what was going to happen.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sofia were together, Rafe? You never once said to my face, "Y/N, we can no longer meet up like this anymore because I have a girlfriend now," mimicking Rafe's voice, "we've been hooking up this entire time while you've been in this relationship that I had no idea about until I heard someone talking about it," you explain frustratedly in your voice and expressions.

In the midst of your rant towards him, he places his hand over his lips, chuckles, shakes his head, and looks down at his lap.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" You ask, folding your arms, leaning back against the passenger door, annoyed.

He glances up from his lap, licks his bottom lip, and smirks: "Who said it was over?"

Before you could respond his lips were already on yours.

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[garfunklefield]

Could you do cult leader! geto I’m so feral for this like he doesn’t care about his followers but reader is just so pretty and he wants to make her his lover for the whole cult to see PLS IM FERAL N I LOVE YOUR WRITING <3

Red Ink

18+ viewer discretion is advised

fem!reader/cult leader!Suguru Geto Warnings: angst, pining, slowish burn not really, selling and technically kidnapping, the reader has a sad backstory KAY [implied physical abuse], age gap [Geto is 37 and reader is 24], forbidden romance, im gonna make the reader sassy dx, alternate AU where Geto is a cult leader but it's set in more of an ancient time YOULL SEE [kind of like my happy marriage], bathtub masturbation, bathtub sex, sexual tension, cumshot [breasts], masochist!Suguru Geto, hair pulling, Word count: 7221 DESC: Suguru Geto never thought about giving a monkey who couldn't wield jujutsu a chance ... until he met you.

Hiii!!! I just got sick so please be patient my posts might get spaced out for a bit until I recover but I really like this! I took a few [A LOT] creative liberties when writing :3

If you want a guarantee I will write and post your request in a timely fashion head over to my Ko-Fi!

Every morning it was the same routine. Suguru would wake up at 7:45 AM every morning to an empty bed, with the lights a dull orange color. They hung from the room's corners and lit up just enough to let him peer around. He slowly forced himself off the squeaky mattress, becoming accustomed to the sensation of the cold wood against his bare feet. A breath of air flowed through his nose as his hand lazily trailed through his robes, hanging in his large closet. There were so many to choose from, all almost the same. Although, some details were different. Blue trim vs yellow, or a red pattern vs green. In all honesty, he never cared much about his appearance. As long as he wouldn’t have to leave, he didn’t mind his daughters or servants doing the shopping for him. Maybe that’s why the leader's hair was too long to manage, so he would lazily put half of it up in a semi-orderly bun. 

All of these people, and Suguru Geto was completely and utterly alone. He had no one who understood why he decided to become the leader of the Star Religious group so young, almost twenty years ago, at the ripe age of seventeen. All of his innocence was lost at such an age that he could feel a bitter taste rising on the back of his tongue. Bile. The taste of regret. Sometimes he looked out the window to some of the convent’s children playing in the courtyard, and he wished he had found a partner to aid him on his journey. No one ever caught his eye, no one ever piqued his interest. No one like … 

Suguru shook his head and blinked a few times, sending himself out of an impending spiral and instead leaving it for another day. He looked over to his robes, where his hand clung to his signature robe, yellow trim with a green pattern sewn to the front. There was something so comforting about this robe. Maybe because it was the first one ever made for him by his monkey servants, the only monkeys he’d ever let near his person without choosing to disinfect himself afterward. They knew their place in society and acted accordingly. The only monkeys he could tolerate. 

Another sound took him out of his thoughts, a knock on the door. He turned his head, “Come in,” was all he had to rasp. His voice was naturally soft, as he didn’t typically raise it past a whisper to most. Only when Suguru was truly enraged would he begin to scream and yell at those useless monkeys… but that was becoming rare now.

A tuft of pink hair appeared from the door as it opened, showing his secretary Manami. She strolled in as if she owned the room, opting to close the door with a push to her hip. The male watched her with an indifferent gaze as she tapped the rickety clipboard in her hand, “I found you a personal servant.”

“Personal servant? Why would I need that? I’m capable of dressing myself, you know,” as Suguru spoke he began to pull at his sheer robe, the one he slept in. His secretary looked up to the ceiling, avoiding any and all contact with his body as she possibly could. 

She tapped a pen along the rim of the clipboard as she continued, “Someone to make the bed and cut your hair. It’s getting too long, sir.” Manami swiftly raised her hand and pointed to him with the pen, still avoiding his body with her eyes up. He raised an eyebrow at her, shrugging off the robe and setting it neatly on his bed. His jaw flexed as he clenched it, in thought. Would the leader of the Star Religious group need a personal maid to do every little thing he needed? I mean, it sounded appealing to have a monkey fetch him any useless thing he requested. Watching them spread themselves thin trying to appease him. His lips pulled together in a silent smile at that thought.

“What’s this servant's credentials?” Suguru pulled his robe off the hanger and blew on it lightly, ridding it of the dust it had collected throughout the week it had been since he wore it. 

“Well she’s about 24, so past any good age to get married off,” she listed off, looking down at her clipboard as she spoke, “She’s worked in several different houses as a housekeeper and nanny, but she’s been let go for differing reasons.”

Geto slid on his robe and adjusted it until it fell across his muscular body, “Fired? Was she unruly or perhaps a pain in the ass?” A humorous tone took to his voice and Manami laughed in response, handing him the clipboard so he could see for himself. In a subtle sprawl, it wrote your name. It was interesting as he perused down the paper, stopping at the section where it detailed how you were let go: “Fired for talking back” and “Inappropriate conduct” happened to be recurring on the list, making the leader quirk an eyebrow. The last time he had anyone with some sense of personality was ages ago, as I previously stated my guy doesn’t raise his voice often. “What does she look like?” He asked, handing the clipboard back to the woman.

“I dunno. Why? Finally over your ex, Sugruuuuuuu?” Manami teased, a grin appearing on her face. However, it quickly disappeared as soon as he shot her a warning glare. Never bring up that name. Even edging around the subject, do not bring it up. Every servant and every secretary knew the leader’s past was a delicate subject. Never bring it up. 

She cleared her throat and continued, “Her parents are the ones using her for labor money. We can undercharge them for an old hag and get full labor! ‘Course, she’d have to live here… but I can situate that,” she waved a hand in the air to dismiss that train of thought, “I think it’ll be good for you, sir. Maybe you can get some release.”

She did it that time. Suguru’s eyes shot up to hers and gave her a look that would have sent anyone running. Manami apologized instantly, bowing her head. Everyone also knew of their Emperor’s lack of sexual lovers, and his constant sexual frustrations. He had never been able to fully relieve himself, for well over twelve years. There was a pent-up hunger burning inside him and no one could satiate it no matter how much he tried.

“Hire her. I wish to get acquainted with my new personal servant.”

Your personality had always bounced back even in the face of adversity, maybe that’s why every household you’ve ever worked for had fired you. Life wasn’t easy for someone like you, in a family who didn’t prioritize you. All they wanted were sons and they were blessed with a daughter who couldn’t even marry, you were a disgrace. So they decided they would use you for money if they could, milking you for every cent you were worth. However, you couldn’t keep a job. 

You started well-behaved and quiet, but soon the snippy comments would start. Then soon, you’d be making a scene, disrespectfully calling out your bosses for their treatment in a very public manner. Then they’d fire you instantly, making your family angry once more. It was a vicious cycle they couldn’t snap you from. You were never going to change until your father had announced you had been sold. 

The Star Religious group had agreed to your purchase, giving your family a sum of money they hadn’t seen in their entire lifetime. It was enough for them to skip town and leave you in your own abandoned house. Rough. Of course, that money wouldn’t hold them afloat forever, but they didn’t realize it at the time. All you could think about was the fact you had been abandoned by the people you had been blessed to, the people who said they loved you. 

You were never going to change until that day.

There was no use in fighting, because what happened after this? You’d have no one to back you up or a roof to sleep under. This time… you weren’t going to fuck it up. A carriage arrived at your vacant lot a day after your parents announced you were sold, leaving you alone with your thoughts. In a side bag were two kimonos, a compact, and a hair clip. You opened your rickety front door and peered over at the carriage with wide eyes. Normally a comment would fly out of your mouth, but you couldn’t even will yourself to speak. You didn’t have the will or energy to do anything more than sit and stare like a rock before a woman came out of it. 

She was beautiful, with short pink hair and a purple dress. She shouted your name and clasped her hands together in front of her stomach, “Oh he’s going to like you very well. Sir Geto has a thing for submissive women.” 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to laugh in her face and contradict her statement, nodding lifelessly, “I am grateful for this opportunity, Ms.” 

“Ms. Manami Suda to you!” She grinned, stepping aside to let you walk inside the carriage. It was a dull red on the outside and the same interior-wise, nothing special. You didn’t note the patterns on the inner walls or how the cushion felt. In all honesty, you didn’t care. Even though it was mid-day, you found yourself fantasizing about sleeping in a cot that wasn’t made of pure shit material, maybe even with a pillow. 

The carriage ride was quiet, aside from the occasional comment from Manami about how you didn’t have the monkey smell. Oh, that’s right… they were Jujutsu Sorcerers. You or anyone in your family for that matter were not blessed with the sorcerer gene, so you truly didn’t understand what it meant. Instead of speaking you nodded politely and let a fake small smile grace your lips, as if you were actually listening to her. The countryside was beautiful, the ride taking you deep into the middle of nowhere. Then you saw it, large buildings all coupled together to create a convent. They were tan with brown bamboo roofs, slanted to a point on the top. Incredibly gorgeous. You had always fantasized about building your own buildings one day, admiring from afar. But you weren’t built for that lifestyle. 

It was only ever going to be a fantasy for you it seemed.

The two of you entered the convent in silence, taking in the architecture. It was gorgeous, something you had seen from far away but never dared to venture to up close. You resisted so many urges to run your hand along the columns of the outdoor hallways that lined the outdoor courtyard in the center, where many of the children played. They all looked happy and free, something you found yourself envying.

“Lord Geto is right this way,” Manami spoke eagerly, walking ahead of you and motioning around, “Get used to it kid, you’ll be spending a lot of time here,” she then glanced back at you, a smile branding her lips, “Don’t get smart.” To her, she didn’t think that you were the same girl with the smart mouth that had been let go so many times. In some ways, you weren’t the same. You were so completely and utterly done with your life you couldn’t bring yourself to even have an ounce of personality you once did.

The rest of the walk was quiet before she turned on her heels to the right and motioned to a large door. It was red, with golden trim around the edges. You couldn’t see inside but you knew exactly what lay behind those doors. Manami took your bag from you politely and knocked a few times on the door, hearing some shuffling and seeing them open. Two guards opened the door, their faces stone-cold and stoic. They were almost scary looking, but nothing prepared you for the man who was behind them. He sat on a mound of pillows, head resting in his palm, and his eyes glued to you. In every sense of the word he was gorgeous, you had never seen anyone that beautiful. And he could say the same about you.

Suguru’s eyes widened just a tad as he took in your person. You were beautiful, looking hand-carved from a cloud by the finest god, wine drunk on nothing but your beauty alone. How could this be? No non-sorcerer should have ever made him stare for longer than a few seconds. Manami noticed, hell, everyone but you noticed. He blinked once, then twice, pulling him out of the trace you had put over him, a delicate smile gracing his lips. He spoke your name and used his free hand to beckon you over.

You did as you were told, walking into the room silently. But you hadn’t seen the rug placed before you or the corner of that small table. You found yourself hitting the side of the table with your right ankle, then tripping forward, completely slipping due to the rug. It was within seconds you were face down to the ground, letting out an astonished gasp. That was it. You had done it. You had tripped in front of the most notorious non-sorcerer-hating Sorcerer in the entire country. You had made a complete and utter fool of yourself and that was going to be the end of your life. A sad and embarrassed blush filled your cheeks and hollowed out your temples, waiting for your punishment. 

“I’m… so very sorry,” you managed to mumble, lifting your head from your crouched position. You didn’t hear Suguru lean forward, changing his position to kneel in front of you, and you didn’t expect him to be leaning over you so closely. His face looked down at you with a different kind of softness, raven strands of hair falling over his ears.

“Nonsense. It happens to the best of us… sit up,” he purred, whispering a magical tune in your ear. In any other person, this caring persona would have elicited a feeling of trust and safety. But you found this to be resulting in a different kind of reaction. Suguru’s brow furrowed ever so slightly when you sat up, moving to sit on your knees in front of him, and stared at him with … fuck me eyes?? No one had ever lusted after him so obviously and that quickly too! I mean he was Suguru fucking Geto, for crying out loud- he was supposed to be scary, not sexy! Well… maybe both. 

He blinked slowly to reset his thoughts, letting a gentle hand swipe past her cheek and softly hold her chin. Geto spoke your name lowly as he tilted your head to one side, taking in your features. It was nothing more than a pass over to see you fully, but you had completely soaked your underwear. Yeah, that’s right, you weren’t scared of him you were aroused. It felt even more embarrassing because it was incredibly obvious your fear-torn stare had turned into something more objectifiying. 

You were just picturing him leaning in and whispering sweet nothings as his voice broke your thoughts, “Your name is very pretty.” His voice brushed against your ears and once he retracted his hand back, a small frown parted your lips. His touch was warm and soft, contrasting the devilish stare Suguru typically wore. You wanted to relish in it for a few more moments, but you couldn’t live in a fantasy, now could you?

“Thank you, sir,” you replied, looking down to your lap. You just felt your wetness create an uncomfortable pool in your underwear, making it hard not to squirm. Especially with those naturally beautiful eyes staring at you with a hidden curiosity. 

Aside from the obvious lust radiating off of your person, you were a hard individual to read. Geto was getting mixed signal after mixed signal from your face he decided to sigh and ignore whatever he was feeling at that moment, opting to go over the business side of things. “You will become my personal servant, focussing on cooking, cleaning, and fulfilling my everyday needs. Understood?”

You nodded as he continued, “I would let Manami show you to your room… but it appears she’s wandered off,” he motioned to the slightly open door behind you, “I don’t mind showing you.” With that, the emperor stood up and cleared his throat, brushing his big hands against his robe. You watched with wide eyes as it flowed around him, making him appear more majestic than he actually was. You found yourself standing up and following your new boss, opting not to speak or do anything to draw more attention to yourself. 

As the two of you walked, the columns lining the walls took hold of your mind. The patterns in the wallpaper were one thing in itself, but the structure of the clearly customized columns made your heart flutter. It was gorgeous. Dragon scales dipped into the wall before coming out, in the middle of every door that lined the long indoor hallway. Your feet slowed to a stop, staring at the gold dragon trim. Your hand inched toward it slowly, just one touch to see the type of material. Suguru hadn’t noticed you wandered off until he turned and in the corner of his eye, he saw you stroke the wall. At first, he wanted to do the dick thing and clear his throat, embarrassing you. But something stopped him. You were as pretty as that dragon, the gold reflecting off your skin and making you practically glow in the dim light. You were gorgeous. Stunning even. It was strange, he had never felt himself this attracted to anyone in his life. Aside from- never mind. 

The leader slowly walked back, making his way behind you. You were tolerable to be around, tolerable for a monkey. That was something he had to remind himself about. You were still a non-sorcerer. You were still inferior to him in every sense of the word. Whatever feelings were creeping into his chest and making his heart sing had to get shut away in that instant, so he did the dick move and cleared his throat. 

Your hand was on one of the scales and you froze, turning your head with the speed of light to meet his gaze. “Lord… Please forgive me,” you blurted out, turning on your heel and pressing both hands to your chest, “I’m very sorry. I should never have gotten distracted. I’m sorry,” you squeaked, shutting your eyes tight. You knew what was bound to come… either a physical punishment or your letter of unemployment. Before Suguru could even respond, you lifted your head and tilted it to the side, motioning to your cheek. 

His eyebrow quirked up. He had never seen a servant ask for a punishment for their own wrongdoings, especially when it wasn’t that severe. A strange pang hit his chest, causing a weight to form across his own heart. What had happened in your sad life that made you so prone to letting people do things like that to you? This wasn’t the woman he was expecting. When you walked in, terrified and shy, then … horny, he thought he had gotten the wrong girl. Something must have happened for you to change like that. Maybe your obvious attraction was a hint of the personality you were hiding. Then Suguru had another question: why were you hiding your personality? The first duh answer was so you wouldn’t get fired right away, right? But he felt like there was something more. 

Something he shouldn’t have cared about. You were a non-sorcerer, a monkey! It was forbidden on all accords. 

Suguru blinked a few times, taking himself out of his weird spiral of thoughts to look at your face, contorted with worry, “It’s … alright. I wasn’t aware you liked architecture,” he motioned to the dragon’s golden bodice on the wall, “That was custom made from…” You let your boss explain how the dragon was made and imported, listening to every word. You didn’t want to speak and ruin your only chance at a new life. This was the one and only time you had ever held your breath, stopping any words from coming out. 

After a moment, the male paused and looked over you once more. Something was turning over inside his head and he so desperately wanted an answer. What was going on inside your head and what had deflated your personality so? What had made you turn yourself into a shell of the person he knew was still in there? …And why was he longing to see this? But he said nothing. The moment had passed and as quickly as you wandered off, you were shown to your room. If Geto had let himself unravel any further he would have requested her to accept a binding vow of pure honesty, with the promise of his protection. Why? Why was she pulling at his mind and making him lose it?

That night, he set himself a bath. The water splashed and made small waves as he dipped his feet into it, before submerging his large body. There was something so very calming about a bath to clear his mind… but he couldn’t rid it of you. Of your face, of your monkey smell, or your body. Even though the kimono you were wearing was a size too big, he still made sure to look you over subtly. He took in your large curves and bit his lip, thinking about them as he sat by himself. He was completely and utterly alone, in spirit and in a literal sense. Of course, he’d get a morning erection every now and then, but it had been a long time since something had turned him on just from the thought of it. 

One of Suguru’s hands dipped into the water and grabbed ahold of his meaty cock, dragging a hand up and down his length. It was foreign, but coming back to him like muscle memory. He didn’t want to savor this orgasm to the thought of a lowly monkey, he wanted to get it over with then pretend it never even happened. He wanted to pretend this was all some strange dream he was forced into… not at all something that was going to be plaguing him. He inhaled sharply and leaned his head back, resting his back against the edge of the bathtub. The water was coming up to his mid stomach, warming up his lower half. His pleasure was a gradual build, but he was trying his hardest to rush it. The leader wanted nothing more than to cum and then forget it. His hand tightened around his shaft, stroking upwards to find any sense of release. It was a few seconds before he came, rolling his hips a few times at the new sensation. It was a build of pure warmth before he felt his fluids ooze out of his tip with heavy force. It sprung into the water and contaminated it with his filthy seed. 

It was enough to make him grimace. A non-sorcerer made him so hot and bothered he was forced to spill all over himself, in the bath no less! First, he felt an odd sense of attraction to you… now he wanted nothing to do with it. If it was going to keep him feeling this way, Suguru wanted nothing to do with you. Even if you were beautiful, and you smelt good, and your skin was soft. He could feel it on his fingertips, a psychosomatic warmth radiating off of his hands. 

This was not going to be good for him. You were not going to be good for him.

You woke up at 9 AM sharp, not by choice. Manami shook you a few times, forced you out of your comforting dream, and made you sit up on the small cot you had gotten as your bed. It was more than you could have ever asked for, even if it was made for someone a bit smaller than you. So was your new kimono. They had a dress code for servants to differentiate them, and clearly whoever was the last servant didn’t have a very large … bust. You stared at yourself in the mirror, seeing your form ache to be freed from the tight clothing. The buttons didn’t go all the way down, exposing a bit of cleavage, and it tore a bit at the small of your back. Manami wasn’t much help either, opting to snicker at you and roll her eyes. You wanted to bite back and say something to get her riled up, but you never found your strength. Instead, you took it and nodded. 

“Okay so, Sir Geto’s room is the one to your left. Go ahead and start his bath. Don’t try to wake him up, though. He’ll be all grumpy if you do,” she explained, motioning wildly with her hands. She was a very extroverted person. Someone you would’ve gotten along with if you didn’t feel like absolute dog shit at that very moment. You nodded your head politely and exited the room, opening your bosses. 

It was neat, with barely any decor. Gas lanterns hung from the walls dimly, always keeping the room somewhat illuminated. You tried your hardest not to look at his sleeping form, but you caved. He was so gorgeous it made you pussy throb just from looking at him. His face was resting peacefully against his pillow, some black hairs sprawled against his forehead. His hair was long, longer than you expected, flowing behind him on his bed. And he was wearing what appeared to be a sheer robe. You swallowed and made your way into his bathroom, almost slipping on the excess water left behind from his previous night's bath. You were innocent enough not to question the pile of tissues on the counter, pushing them into the small garbage pail. Then it was a matter of setting up his bath.

In a cabinet hidden by a curve in the wall, you noticed some aromatic bath salts and other essential oils. One of the households you worked for was very into the essential thing, so you had an idea of what scents went together. You didn’t want Geto to smell like a whole mixture of things, but rather one family of scents. You chose a vial of rosemary, lavender, and peppermint oil, hoping it would go together. The bath turned on with a single turn of the knob. Your hands rested on the base of the tub, feeling the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot. It got to the perfect temperature and you put the stopper on the drain, letting it fill up. In the meantime, you sat on the edge of the bathtub and peered around the bathroom. It was again, tidy and austere. He didn’t have an eye for decorating or he didn’t enjoy it. 

You heard a faint groan in the bedroom, signaling Suguru was waking. You inhaled the smell of rosemary and turned on your side to watch as it spilled one drop at a time from the vial. Then fell the peppermint, followed by the lavender. The scent filled the bathroom in an aromatic fashion, filling your senses with a sudden calm. Was it some kind of drug concoction? It was a smell that made you lean back and sigh, filling you with a sense of safety in your surroundings. 

“Good morning,” Suguru spoke, a raspy edge to his voice. Your eyes shot open from their closed state and you stood up, clasping your hands on your chest to hide your cleavage. But you hadn’t seen him staring at you from the bathroom door. He leaned against the doorframe, in only his thin nighttime robe, and stared at your thick breasts. The fabric was so tight, it pulled gaps between each button. He had to admit it, it was hot. Even if you were a filthy monkey, you were a hot filthy monkey. A hot filthy monkey with a banging body. 

“Lord Geto, I was preparing your bath,” you stepped to the side and motioned to the filling water. He caught a glimpse of your back as you turned to turn the knob to the water down to a stop. He saw the tear and the bit of your lacey underwear peeking out from underneath it. Was he that much of a monster that the first time a beautiful non-sorcerer appeared, he’d cave and melt? 

It was starting to feel that way as something came out of his mouth, “How do you feel about me? …Honestly.”

You opened your mouth to respond, on autopilot, before you closed it as quickly as you opened it. What could you say? You found him attractive and you wanted him to breed you? You couldn’t exactly say that, so instead you opted for something more generic, “I think you’re a very respectable leader and emperor to your coven.”

Bull. Shit. Suguru knew it was a lie and he knew you knew it as well. He didn’t have a reputation for being respectable in any sense of the word. He was a cold-blooded killer who’d murder anyone who wronged him in any way. A cold-blooded killer who was beginning to have a strange soft spot for you… 

“Tell me this,” he took a step forward, “if you vow to never lie to me again … I vow to protect you from getting fired, no matter what.” Was he seriously going to bindingly vow himself to some non-sorcerer? Was he seriously going to do this because he wanted to know how he was perceived? 

“...Really?” You asked, your mouth opening slightly. All he wanted was honesty?? You could do that! You could do that so well!! 

“Really,” Geto took another step forward and began to undo the tie holding together his robe. You had made it a point to stare at his face, but you were aching to quickly glance down below his belt. Just for a second.

“Okay. I swear…” You looked away and bit your bottom lip for a moment. You’d have to be honest now. You looked back at the man and let a smile appear on your face, “I think you’re more hot than you are scary.” 

Suguru’s eyes widened. That’s not at all the kind of tonal shift he had expected from you. He expected you to admit some kind of vague attraction and perhaps that he was a terrifyingly charismatic leader. But… he got a response which made an embarrassed blush fill his temples. 

“I’m .. hot?” He raised an eyebrow, pulling off the robe and letting it fall to the floor. Your eyes didn’t shy away now, making direct eye contact with his flaccid cock. It was beautiful even in that state, making your mouth hang open just a bit more. It was huge too. Thoughts of his girth stretching out your tiny pussy flooded into your thoughts. He could fuck you so good with that thing. And his voice… it was perfect.

“A lot of you is hot,” you looked back at his face, which was an excruciatingly bright shade of red. No one had ever felt this comfortable to objectify Suguru this way to his face. He couldn’t deny the fact he was growing to enjoy it. And grow in other ways. He took a few more steps forward, hands reaching out and pulling you closer to his front. 

“You’re being filthy, not honest,” a small smirk graced his lips as he stared down at you with half-lidded eyes, beaming with lust. 

“I can do both,” you returned a smile. A weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You had complete and utter job security. That’s all you could have ever wanted in your entire life, just a place to stay. Even if it meant working with this hot guy for the rest of your life, you didn’t mind. Although, he thought of you as inferior, you didn’t care. That’s what did it. Your personality had been led out of its cage and shown to Suguru’s perverted gaze. He realized what kind of person you were from your few sentences. You were just as much of a pervert as he was. The tonal shift was enough to make you realize what his next plans were, especially when he let his big hands snake around your waist. 

“This is,” Suguru let out a breath and craned his head down, brushing his lips past your ear, “Very wrong… But I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss you, pretty girl,” he cooed, using his free hand to tilt your chin up to face him as he pulled his face back. You both looked at each other’s features for a moment without anything. What was there to say? You could feel him throbbing between your legs with that massive log he had attached to his front. It was hot. You just wanted to trail your hand down his chest and watch him shiver when you got to his v-line.

“You can’t fire me… so I don’t care,” two hands found themselves placed on his bare chest, running up and down his pectorals, “Am I too lowly for you, sir?” You purred, looking back up at him with a lustful expression. It was all you had to say before he proved you wrong. Devastatingly slow, he brought your lips together. The hand on your chin disappeared, moving to rest upon your ass. You sighed into the kiss, molding your lips together in perfect synchronization. It was as if his mouth was made for you, pulling you into sensations you had never felt before. The kiss didn’t last long before he pulled back and looked down at you with an unmistakable expression. He was going to fuck the living shit out of you. It was written on his face from the way he was clearly thinking about how to go about it. There was a bathtub full of aromatic water, waiting to be used… You looked down at the tub and looked back at him. You two didn’t have to say anything as his hands grabbed at the hole from the back of your kimono and ripped it. It made a loud tearing sound and he continued to pull, until little to no fabric hung from your breasts. 

You gasped and looked down at the mess he had made, moving to undo your underwear, then you looked at his cock. It was just aching to be touched in some way. Your hand found his tip and started to stroke down his shaft, then up. Who knew a non-sorcerer's hands would feel phenomenal compared to his own? Suguru let out a faint groan, leaning into your touch. He had never let himself take pleasure in things, ever since his breakup [at KFC] twenty years ago… but now it felt different. He felt like he had one chance to do this and he wasn’t going to spoil it. Your hands were so warm, he could just imagine how warm your mouth would be, gagging on his length.

Large hands cupped your ass and lifted your body, causing you to exclaim loudly and wrap your arms around his neck for stability. He was so strong, you could hardly believe it. It was pure talent and genetics that made him perfect on every level. His face was godly and his body was sculpted from the heavens just for your perverted stare. The male set you down gently in the tub, being mindful to make sure you didn’t land too hard on your plush backside. He wanted to save the bruising on your skin for when it was from him. He wanted his hands to be the ones leaving imprint after imprint on your skin, slapping and grabbing without a care for what would be left behind. He plopped down into the water, not caring if he got water to spill from the sides. He didn’t care about anything, because his hands and eyes were glued to you. His hands hooked around your hips and pulled you onto his lap, still being mindful not to hurt you. 

You grinned and leaned forward, pushing strands of ebony-colored hair across his forehead and away from his beautiful eyes. Purple, they stared back at you gently. “This… is nice,” you spoke softly, pressing your lips first on his forehead, then his nose, before landing on his lips. It was chaste, as the first kiss had been. But it didn’t stay that way for long. Suguru’s tongue slipped its way into your mouth and took over with a dominating force, making you bite back a whimper. It felt so good. He knew exactly how to move it to elicit whatever reaction he pleased. Your hands raked through his hair, before grabbing fistfuls at the root and moaning into his mouth. He liked that, moaning with you.  

“...Harder,” he mumbled against your open mouth, kissing back for more.

“What a pretty little masochist,” you smiled, running your hands through the roots of his hair before clenching them down and yanking up another fistful, hearing him whine in his low gravelly voice. Fuck… it just made you so wet. You clenched your thighs together as you kissed up his face, pulling his hair just to hear the ardor-esc moans fill the room. This was even better than sex, just hearing him get a little bit of pleasure out of this hair-pulling would’ve been satisfactory. But as you did this, you felt his hands fondle your ass, squeezing and palming your skin. It wasn’t long before he lifted you and had you position his throbbing dick against your folds. 

You had never felt a dick this good penetrate you in your life. Something about the way it curved to the left and the bulbous head, touched areas you didn’t even know you had, just on the way down. You threw your head back in a breathy whine, rocking your hips back and forth once you felt yourself hit the base of his cock. Suguru used his two hands to help you slide up his length, then down again. He had you trapped in a rhythm of fucking your tight cunt with his member, making you his fuck toy. The male had never felt himself slip into such a trace over a monkey of all people. Non-sorcerers should have not had this hold on him, but you were different. You gasped and bit down on your hand to stop a loud groan escaping your mouth, with your breasts bouncing with each thrust. 

“Dirty slut,” Suguru uttered, biting on his bottom lip to stop his own noises from getting too loud. No one could figure out this was happening. It was wrong. It was against everything he had ever stood for. But …god it felt so good. Your walls clenched around him every time he forced you down on his length, taking the time to feel up your hips and ass. You were so soft, inside and out. The perfect toy he could use. 

It didn’t take him long to feel close, a familiar pang of desire creeping up the shaft of his cock. You were beyond ready to cum, with this log inside you it wouldn’t take long. You bit down on your fingertips and cried out, not having time to muffle your wails of pleasure. It was a warmth you hadn’t felt in such a long time wash over your whole vagina, flushing out through your body next. You convulsed, grinding your hips back and forth to continue to elongate your high for as much as possible, causing a second orgasm on your way down. No one had ever made you cum like that, making you dumbfounded by the sheer will of their dick. 

The cult leader felt himself throbbing for release, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t do it inside you. There couldn’t be any evidence of your joint mistake running around in nine months, not here. Instead, he pulled you off his cock and pressed his lips together, “Press your…” He motioned to your breasts then his cock, “So I can…” You nodded and pressed your tits together, pushing them up against the length of his dick. That was all he needed, using his left hand to finish the job. He focused his energy on the swollen tip, leaking precum and begging to release all over your mounds of perfect flesh. Mounds he wanted so desperately to put in his mouth and suck. 

Then he came, splattering out of his cock and messily coating your tits. Most of the cum was on your skin, although half of it also found its way into the water. You bit your lip as he came and thrust into the air, into nothing. It was like volt after volt of pure pleasure was shot through his urethra and forced out in one big release, a release he didn’t know he was even capable of. Your cunt had felt so good it made Suguru’s dick completely sensitive to any kind of touches, including his own. So when he came, he let out a loud whine, in his devilishly low voice, “F-fuck… mmm shit.. This was.. Hah.. a mis-mistake,” he breathed out, trying to regulate himself after he had just felt an explosive orgasm run through his penis.

You nodded and looked down at your breasts, coated in his cum. How were you going to explain to Manami that all of your clothes mysteriously wound up torn in Lord Geto’s bathroom? And how were you going to explain the fact you were also covered in Lord Geto’s cum?

“...Can I call you Suguru now?” You asked after a moment, tilting your head to the man who looked as though he had just run a marathon. 

There was something utterly interesting about your personality now that you had freed it from your nervous shackles. Suguru didn’t want to extinguish this new fire in your eyes, he wanted to foster it and let it burn. There was no way he was developing some kind of feelings for you other than lust… there was no way. But there were going to be dramatic changes now. After that day, you were treated as one of the regular Sorcerers, which infuriated Manami to no end. You were the most prized possession of Suguru Geto and everyone knew not to anger or upset you because he would get wind of it. Then… there’d be trouble. You were his prized possession. The possession he wanted to see smile and laugh in the sunlight, rather than stay inside and do mindless chores. The possession he wanted to have slept next to him in his bed at night and wrapped his large arms around. 

The possession he was growing to… love.

[mrsshabana]

Okay I’ve got an idea for you

Soulmate Tattoo AU but Gyutaro never had one as a human and it only develops some time after he became a demon.

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐮 ♡ 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒰୨୧ ・Content Gyutaro x female!reader, canon-ish, soulmate au, fluff, angst ꒰୨୧ ・Note I've been meaning to answer this ask for so long! Honestly I wish I could write an entire fic about this but I had to stop myself. I've always wanted to write for a soulmate au so if you want to see more don't hesitate to ask! ♡ (Also I've never written for a soulmate au before so I'm sorry if I did it wrong)

It all happened so fast.

Just a moment ago you were walking home from the night market. And now you find yourself pinned to the ground in a dark alleyway fighting for your life. Some monster grabbing at you, trying to make you his next meal.

He's unlike anything you've ever seen before, but it doesn't take long for you to deduce that he's a demon. You've only heard people tell stories of them, but you never would have imagined they were real.

His large hand wraps around your mouth so you can't scream.

"Pathetic," he snarls, "Just going to let me kill you without putting up a fight?"

You try to kick and scream but you're powerless against him. His lips curl into a sadistic smile. A deep, hyena-like laugh comes from his throat.

"You're so disgraceful, I almost feel bad for you!"

For a split second, he's too busy antagonizing you to notice that you're wiggling out of his grasp. "Fuck you!" you hiss, kicking his groin and desperately crawling away.

Immediately the demon hunches over and groans in pain, "You... bitch..."

Unfortunately, the blow doesn't do as much damage as it would a human, and he's recovered quicker than you expected. You were only able to get a few feet away before he grabbed your ankle.

"You'll pay for th-" he stops mid-sentence and stares at the spot above your ankle.

An intricate pattern lies there, one that you were born with. It looks like a random splotch of ink at first glance, but when you look closer it resembles the shape of a heart.

The demon gulps audibly, suddenly the entire aura around him shifting. Without an explanation, he gets on one knee and pulls up the hem of his pants to reveal a mark that looks identical to yours.

"You... You're my soulmate," you whisper in disbelief.

The demon's hand begins to tremble as he keeps a firm grip on your ankle. "It-it can't be..."

"P-Please, maybe we-"

"Shut it!" he snaps, his teeth getting dangerously close to your face, "I don't care who you are! You're gonna be my next meal!"

He pulls out a weapon you didn't notice he had. It looks strange, like something you've never seen before.

With a look of amusement on his face, he swipes the blade of the weapon across your throat.

But nothing happens.

"...what?" he frowns and presses the blade harder against your neck. But it won't cut your skin.

It really must be true then. This demon is your soulmate, and lucky for you soulmates can't bring harm to each other.

You always heard about soulmate tattoos and how you were destined to find that special person one day. But a demon? Really? Sure, he's pretty cute but he's still a demon!

However, you're honestly just happy to be alive. At least now you don't have to worry about the demon that lurks around the entertainment district making you his dinner.

Meanwhile, your soulmate stares at you with wide eyes, hurriedly stepping away from you as if he's disgusted by you.

"Wait! Please don't go," you reach out to him, "Maybe we can work something out..."

"Tsk, I want nothing to do with you. I don't need a soulmate," he snarls, looking you up and down one last time before disappearing into the night.

You stay in that spot longer than you should, hoping he would return.

Of course, you know that demons are dangerous, but a part of you can't help but feel some kind of unconditional love for him. He is your soulmate after all.

But after some time passes you give up on love. The demon never comes back so you figure there's no point in even trying to find love in the future. If your destined soulmate doesn't even want you, then why would anyone else?

As weeks pass you go on with your life and try to forget about the demon. You're pretty sure he's long forgotten about you, but you couldn't be further from the truth. He's just been really good at hiding it.

Gyutaro hasn't been able to stop thinking about you ever since that night.

He went his entire life convinced that he was unloveable. But then suddenly this gorgeous human shows up on a silver platter just for him. It was a lot to process in the moment, but as time passed he couldn't help but sprout feelings for you. Especially after he stalked you and got to see how cute you are.

It started with him following your scent around the district, finding out where you lived, stealing your mail to get all of your personal information, and then breaking into your home while you slept.

Sure, maybe it's a bit creepy and weird but he's a demon! He has no morals at this point.

When he was a human, soulmates were the least of his worries. He was too busy scrounging for food and trying to survive to care. There were plenty of marks on his body, but none of them were the mark of a soulmate. The one on his ankle only appeared years after he became a demon. But honestly, the thought that this mark was actually the mark of a soulmate never crossed his mind. He always believed that a soulmate was never in the cards for him.

Normally he would never catch feelings for anyone, let alone a human. But when he met you it was like a switch flipped inside of him and he couldn't help but feel drawn to you.

And now, as he spends more and more time around you he begins to get careless. His feelings start to get stronger and overpower his rational thoughts. This whole time he's told himself that he'll never let you see him and he'll always just admire you when you're asleep. But the urge to touch you starts to get too strong. Oh, what he wouldn't give to feel your skin under his fingertips. To just hold you in his arms if only for a few seconds.

As he stands above your bed, looking down at you as you sleep blissfully unaware, he can't stop himself from crawling into your bed with you. It's like his body moves on its own, all of his anxious and self-hating thoughts get momentarily pushed aside. And all he can think about is you, and how right this feels.

You feel large, firm arms wrap around you - slowly waking you from your slumber. Typically someone would feel terrified to wake up suddenly in the embrace of a stranger. But you already know who this is. Your body knew it was your soulmate before you even opened your eyes.

After all of these weeks, you tried to forget about him but you never could. Ever since that first night you met him you felt like a part of you was missing. And he felt it too.

But now you feel complete with him by your side. And for the first time in his life, he doesn't hate himself. He doesn't feel like a disgusting, ugly, disgraceful waste of space.

He feels loved.

[heartsforvin]

Hi, could you please do an imagine where reader colors vinnie’s tattoos, please

COLOR IN THE LINES

this is ADORABLE thank you for the request !!

pairing; vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings; cussing, use of pet names (baby, princess, etc), otherwise just fluff

summary; you love to color in vinnie’s tattoos

one of your favorite things to do when you and vinnie have a day together is to lay in his bed, legs entangled with each other, while you lay on his chest and color in his tattoos.

you bought washable markers that won’t damage skin specifically for this. vinnie realized early on in your relationship that this was one of the many things that made you calmer.

walking into vinnie’s room, you greet him with a smile before quickly heading to his bathroom.

“hello to you too, princess.” vinnie says under his breath as he watches you sprint to his bathroom.

you walk out a few minutes later with a smile. vinnie watches as you walk around to the other side of his bed and pull open the nightstand drawer.

he smiles when he realizes what you’re grabbing. he quickly removes his sweatshirt so he’s only in sweatpants now.

you hop up on the bed and vinnie widens his legs for you to kneel in between him.

you start to shade in his most recent tattoo, it has healed so it was perfectly okay to color it in by now.

you hold onto his arm while you shade in the tattoo right below the one you just finished.

once done, you kiss his arm, making vinnie smile. “what’s that for?” he asks you.

you shrug with a tight lipped smile. “i love you, that’s what it was for.”

vinnie watches you in pure awe as you do the one thing you love most. he pushes some hair behind your ear and kisses your temple softly.

“have i ever told you that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world?” the compliment makes you stop abruptly.

he in fact has told you that you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. he tells you everyday.

a slight blush creeps up on your cheeks, you’re grinning ear to ear at the boy in front of you. your boy.

“i had a really bad day, v,” you breathe out, almost wanting to cry at the thought. “that means a lot, no matter how much you tell me.”

vinnie takes the washable marker out of your hand and caps it before putting it on his bed. he takes your hands in his and looks at you.

“what happened?” he asked you with pure sincerity.

you sighed, hoping that no tears rush out of your eyes as you explain to vinnie about your day. he grabs you and places you in his lap, hugging you tightly as he leaves kisses all around your face.

“people at work, mainly customers. they’re all fuckin’ idiots.” you rant.

vinnie lets out a laugh, he grabs your arms and rubs his hands down them gently. “shh,” he tries to calm you.

grabbing the marker off vinnie’s bed, you pop the cap off and begin to color in vinnie’s ‘break my heart’ tattoo on his chest.

he knows this calms you most so he doesn’t ask why you ignored him. he moves his hands so they’re around your waist now, holding you gently.

“gotta get you a coloring book, sweet girl.” vinnie says softly as he watches you move down to the tattoos on his lower stomach.

you giggle as you shade in the tattoo on his right side. “i like using you as my personal coloring book, though.”

as much as you’d love a coloring book, you’ve been using vinnie’s ink as one for awhile now, and don’t think switching to paper would help calm you as much as this does.

vinnie doesn’t mind, though. as much as it hurts him to see you upset or stressed, he loves the way coloring in his tattoos helps you so much.

“i know you do baby, and i love it too. but i wouldn’t mind getting you your own book for it.” he tells you.

your eyes immediately shoot up to his, he watches your demeanor change and soon rubs your back and places a soft kiss to your cheek.

“i’m sorry, princess,” he apologizes once he realizes that’s not what you want at all. “didn’t mean to upset you.”

you smile slightly at your boyfriend before moving to his arm, shading in more ink on his skin.

you’re quiet for the rest of the time until you finally finish all the tattoos on the front side of his body.

capping the marker, you put it back in the box before putting the box back in the nightstand drawer.

“how’d i do?” you ask with a smile, standing next to vinnie with your hands on your hips.

he stands and pulls you to his bathroom so he can take a full look. once he sees your art, he smiles.

“you did amazing, sweetheart,” he kisses you. “my little artist.”

you smile and hug vinnie from the side, gripping his waist and soon turning so your body’s pressed against him. chest to chest, you smile at your boyfriend while he looks down at you.

“thank you for understanding and letting me do that.” you tell him, standing on your tip toes to kiss him.

vinnie wraps his arms around you tightly in a hug. “i’m here for you, my love,” he says. “always.”

you and vinnie stay like that for awhile before heading back into vinnie’s room for the night. vinnie picks up his hoodie but you quickly swatted his hand.

he chuckles as he faces towards you. “like me without a shirt that much, huh?” he teases.

you hit his chest and climb into his bed. “get over here dork,” you tell him. “yes i do, but i like looking at my coloring more. first time i actually colored in the lines.”

vinnie laughs as he gets in beside you. he lays down and scoots you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you as you snuggle into him.

the rest of the day you spend snuggled up to vinnie as the two of you watch movies.

you run your hand along vinnie’s chest and stomach, admiring your coloring work, being grateful you have the most understanding boyfriend.

hiii finally back to posting !!! i hope you all loved this as much as i loved writing it !! and i hope the anon who requested this did as well !!

like i said in my most recent post, work for me has been busy since i got back - and although i don’t post while im at work, i am still a bit active w my moots. i’m trying my best to stay active but my personal & physical wellbeing come first so if im inactive w uploads, just gimme time 🥹

I LOVE YOU ALL THOUGH !! thank you for all the continuation of the support / feedback on my posts <333

tags; @cosmicanakin , @lyndys , @slvthrs , @forevergirlposts , @bernelflo , @leqonsluv3r , @kriissy4gov , @lovingsturniolo , @louloulemons-blog , @hallecarey1 , @st4rswrld , @violet0182 , @visualbutterflysworld , @laylasbunbunny , @kayleiggh , @supabhad

[dilfl0v3rss]

https://twitter.com/bestpornclipsx/status/1660915013479964674?s=46

what would have had to happen for y/n to be in this situation with ony

hmmmm idk

sikeeee!! i always know😛 link

“got some nerve…coming up in there like you ain’t got no sense” his voice deeply touched your ears as he spoke. your ass was hot from the many times he’s struck it. pussy being pounded into oblivion from the back. it was almost certain you were going to be sore and bedridden in the morning. all because you let jealousy cloud your judgment.

“ma i just told you, been telling you the whole ride home, i don’t know that girl” you rolled your eyes at him, not caring about the irritated look your boyfriend was giving you. “you mean to tell me this bitch knows your name, mom’s name, and has your number in her contacts, and you never fucked wit her? boy get the fuck outta here wit that!” you pointed your long acrylic nail in his face as you spoke. getting up close and personal to show him that you weren’t playing.

ony took a deep breath before replying. crossing his big arms across his chest to keep himself from just snatching you up right there. “first of all…watch your mouth. second, i need you to put that big girl brain to good use and think.” you rolled your eyes as he continued to to break down your assumptions. “no cocky shit, but i’m probably the most known nigga on this campus and you know that. so of course people gon know my name. as for my number, i can’t stop girls from asking around for it. she prolly got it from someone on the team and i’ll check em for that. and you can check my phone to clarify ‘cause ain’t no female in there but my momma and you.”

your face began to soften as his excuses were starting to make sense, an apology already on the tip of your tongue as he continued. “as far as knowing momma’s name, you gotta be smarter than that princess. after every game what i say to the camera?” your eyes revert to the floor, guilt clouding your mind as you start to feel bad for how you were acting. ony softly cooed at you, inked fingers tilting your chin up so he can look into your eyes. “tell me ma” you sighed deeply, taking a long pause before answering his question. “y’say ‘first i wanna give a shout-out to my very first supporters, my parents Abena and Todd Jackson.’ m’sorr-”

“sh sh sh. what else baby?” your eyes instantly began to water as you recited the second part of his speech. “a-and y’said ‘a-also wanna give a big shoutout t-to my beautiful g-girlfriend y/n.’ m’sorry papa i was just so mad and i–” he cut you off again, this time by snatching you up by your throat and bringing your face closer to his. “this is why we communicate ain’t it? to prevent shit like this, but you ain’t do that did you? nahh….you came into the team house yelling and screaming, embarrassing the both of us ‘cause you let your emotions get the best f’you. so now…. ima let mine get the best of me. go in the room and strip.”

it was a matter of minutes before ony had you stripped and screaming in the middle of the bed. dick punishing your insides so good , but you held that need for release with a death grip. “daddyyyy i said m’sorry alreadyyy. p-please let me cumm” you whined, drool dripping from your lips as ony replied with a hard slap on your ass. “no. you ain’t learn yet” he grumbled, angling his hips downward so he can be felt in your stomach. your mouth opened in a silent scream, the feeling too much for you as you tried to inch up the bed.

ony watched you closely, letting you move up just enough so you can take a sigh of relief before yanking you back onto him. “don’t run from me mama. you gettin what you deserve” you let out a loud whine as you felt him begin to hit you deeper than he did before, heavy hand coming down on your ass repeatedly. your ass was definitely going to be sore in the morning. “you love me?” ony asked, stroking you just right to the point where holding your orgasm was almost unbearable. “y-you know i love you daddy”

the next thing you knew, your back was too his chest and ony has his hand tightly around your neck. the brutal pace of his hips slowing to deep strokes. his dick repeatedly hitting the sweetest spots inside of you. there was no way you could hold it in anymore, a quiet whine escaping your lips as your release slowly trickled down your thighs. ony wasn’t far behind, his ropes of cum shot deep into you as he slowed his hips to a stop.

“if you love me then communicate wit me cause now you gon be here all night. turn over.”

[redcherrykook]

── ˙✧°📷 TORN PICTURES AND FROZEN LENSES 4

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College Photography Teacher!Jungkook x Student!Reader

27 year old, stupidly handsome asshole teacher Mr. Jeon has absolutely no human decency, he believes your victim complex is what keeps you from ever achieving anything, letting people use you as a bridge. When something unexpected happens, the ice starts to melt as a foreign word called "empathy" enters his egocentric lense. Maybe he will finally manage to teach you a lesson now, since you keep failing his class.

(Mini series)- Episode four!

Song recommendation: circles- post malone

Content: Cold, mean, distant, unprofessional Jungkook, hurt, stubborn reader, enemies to lovers, lowkey dramatic, accident happens, mutually beneficial relationship (emotionally), Jk learns a lot from her, Jk is mean but has a soft spot for reader (eventually), 6 year age gap, Reader is from a struggling background, Jk kind of rescues her, happy ending, angst at first, fluff, smut, comedy/crack, bickering, college setting, brief hospital setting

Warnings: swearing, name-calling,mentions of an accident involving a biker, mentions of hospital, mentions of injuries, really mean Jungkook, i promise he gets sweet, mentions of trauma and abuse (non detailed), mental health struggles (semi detailed), arguments

Taglist: @bts-iris @kaeysv @khadeeeeej @rockstryoon

────୨ৎ────

"Jungkook?" you shout when stepping out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of baggy, low sitting sweats and a black tanktop that you had taken with you earlier. Appropriate for late night Fried chicken runs. Your voice filling up the empty hallway, no sight of the handsome teacher.

His groan can he heard from behind his bedroom door as he opens it.

"Finally done?", he walks out, a comfortable white hoodie with matching bottoms hanging loosely on his body.

Something about these damn casual clothes just make him look attractive.

It felt like your own little secret, seeing Jungkook outside of his classroom, his perfectly correlated image.

In the comfort of his own home, messy, having just woken up or going out casually.

It made you feel giddy, even if it was not supposed to.

Jungkooks eyes glue on your neckline, collarbones so delicately on display, damp hair sprawled out.

The drops of water dropping on your shirt reminding him of him of the forbidden thoughts tangled in his mind minutes earlier.

Gulping, he points to it "Dry your hair, you´re gonna catch a cold"

"Was gonna ask you for the blow dryer" you say, noticing the way his eyes focus on your cleavage.

No, you're over analyzing things now.

"Let me get it, right here" his inked arm reaching into a cupboard of the bathroom, pulling out a hairdryer and handing it to you.

"Thanks" your smile spread across your face as you dry your hair quickly, Jungkook gathers up his wallet and car keys, waiting for you at the front door.

"Lets go get drunk" you giggle with a fist pumped up into the air, walking past him to put on your shoes on. It had been ages since you had last gotten drunk with someone.

"The shit I do with you hm? How did we even get here" he shakes his head, trying to hide the little smile playing on his pierced lip.

"No idea, but I´m trying to forget all that mess anyways. you ready?" you reply to him, opening the front door to make your way to his car.

Buckled in, excited to loosen up a bit, you hit the radio to play.

The thrid time´s a charm right?

"Yeah no shut it off" he says, reaching to turn it off with his free hand.

"Nope. Only now please, not even the ride back, Are you allergic to music?" you slap his hand away, chuckling and waiting for the news segment on the radio to conclude.

"You´re in my car idiot, turn the radio off" he groans, his face beaming with annoyance.

Instead of responding and complying to his wishes, you turn up the volume and start singing along to the song playing, arms swaying in motion as happiness fills your body up. Being around Jungkook made you able to stop worrying so much about everything, you enjoyed a moment like this. Devoid of any care in the world, any problems or uncertainty.

Glancing over to him, his eyes locked on to the road with his lips tugging back a grin.

"See? not too bad" you tease while continuing to sway to the music.

"Horrible actually, your awfully off key singing just makes it worse. Check if my ears are bleeding i feel you´re ruining them"

"Drama queen. I´m a music major, I know i can sing stop pretending" your eyes roll, looking out of the window as the next song plays. he scoffs, secretly waiting for you to resume your screeching.

Instead of singing your heart out, you hum lowly to the soft vocals playing in the car. Jungkook snorts suddenly, making you shoot him a look of anger.

"Took that to heart? Keep singing idiot, you sound fine" his eyes move to yours in an attempt to show he´s just fooling around with you, while also pulling into the drive through of the chicken place.

"You suck. I forgive you because you´re buying me food" your hands reach for the radio, turning it off to make the employee hear Jungkook´s order. He smirks slightly, shifting in his seat to turn to you. With the way he´s looking at you, you expect him to say something serious.

"Ridiculous" is all he says before placing the order.

"Are we going to get soju from a convenience store?" You ask him, noticing he's driving back in the direction of his place.

"Yeah, its closer to me. I'll let you pick the flavors even" his voice in a low but playful tone.

"That´s crazy you're sooo sweet" obviously sarcastic you touch his shoulder, eyes squinting at him.

He grins, "I'm doing great at being nice aren't i? Come on, we need to get out here" he says when parking on the side of the street.

The store had many, many flavors. You examine each one carefully, wisely choosing which one fits the current vibe of well, getting drunk with an unexpected new friend who you happen to live with now. All the while, Jungkook is peacefully clutching hands full of snacks and ramyeon.

"I think ill take two melon, one strawberry and one peach. Sound good?" You mumble, looking over at him.

Immediately you start to laugh, he is standing there looking like a hungry kid left alone in the snack aisle. Tightly gripping on to as many snacks his large hands could hold on to. To capture this hilarious moment, you pull out your phone to snap a pic.

Rolling his eyes at your gesture, he nods, "Take one more peach, i like that one the best" he adds, already scanning his snacks at self check out.

"Noted" you reply, grabbing one more peach soju and setting down the five bottles of liquor for him to scan.

When he does, you walk back to the car, a bag full of alcohol, snacks and ramyeon in Jungkook's hand.

This was going to be a long night

"I guess we're calling in sick tomorrow?" He says, pulling the car out of the parking spot and driving back to his apartment.

"Naah, we'll be fine, right? Or are you a lightweight?" you smirk at him playfully, knowing very well that four shots are enough to get you very tipsy.

"Unfortunately that is one of the very few flaws i have. Don't act like you're all hard-core huh" he scoffs, remembering how horrible his last time being drunk went. He completely lost his mind. Drank way more than he should have and ended up waking up at some random girl's couch, next to two other men.

25 was definitely a crazy age for Jungkook, lesson learned.

That is however, also how he met his best friend Mingyu. Him being one of the other guys on this woman's couch.

That's a story for another day.

"Mister perfect over here. Yeah yeah, i'm also a light weight. But I'm a funny drunk"

His eyebrows furrow, "funny drunk?" he asks

"Yeah, like when i'm drunk i get super funny and unserious. Some people are angry drunks or emotional drunks" you explain, your eyes focused on the steering wheel. Studying the way his hand wraps around it, his fingers tapping against the smooth leather whenever he stopps the car.

He hums in return,

"Which one are you?" you ask him curiously, imagining what it would be like if he was also a funny drunk, dancing on his living room table or cracking up at something stupid.

It's not nearly as impossible to imagine as when you had first met him. After this past week of spontaneously getting to know parts of him, he is not actually as boring as initially anticipated.

Still, the thought seems particularly interesting, maybe a little over exaggerated.

"Don´t know. I guess we'll find out today" he says shrugging, his lips curving into a small, meaningless smile.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"Wahhh finally" you exclaim, letting out a huff of air when setting down the bottles of soju on the table along with the food and some snacks.

You plop down on his couch dramatically, waiting for him to sit down next to you. He does exactly that, opening one of the peach soju bottles and pouring both of you a shot.

Slowly, you reach for his hand to place the small glass in your fingers, focused on the millisecond his hand would graze yours. He hands it to you carefully before taking his own glass in his hands.

"What do you wanna toast to?" He asks, leaning back against his couch. His legs are spread, his right arm supporting his head by propping it up on a cushion.

"Gosh i can't pick one, there's so much that happend" you giggle, zoning out while looking at the table and remembering how you were hit by the biker, how you had an argument with him, the day of getting kicked out and much more.

He snaps you out of your flashbacks, "You're trying to forget all that right? Stand above it?" his question makes you nod at him.

"Then lets just toast to a new chapter" he says blankly, his eyes moving to yours, awaiting approval.

"Sure, good idea" you smile slightly, extending your arm forward to meet him in the middle as he does the same, glasses clinking together.

You pour the shot down, the alcohol slightly burning your throat in a delicious, satisfying way. It truly felt like things had gotten better.

Washing away whatever has led you here in the first place.

He does the same, his hair falling behind him messily, his neck beautifully on display as he swallows down the shot.

"So? Good right, told you this flavor is it" he says, waiting for you to say something in return. His hands reach to take his glasses off, revealing all of his softened face to your wandering eyes.

"Tastes sweet" mindlessly licking your lips, savoring the remains of alcohol on them, you look into his eyes.

You watch them go down where your tongue had just been before, shooting back up again quickly.

"Lets eat im hungry" you fake whine, setting down the glass and opening up the bag of food.

Jungkook groans in return, reaching to take out some food as well.

"Always so impatient"

The time passes rather quickly. Soon the food was finished, both of you had already drunken one soju bottle each, the next one already half empty, opened on the table.

"You know.." you say, tipsy and with a wide smile sprawled across your face. Cheeks flushed pink from the liqour you consumed.

Lightweight indeed.

Jungkook tilts his head, listening to you closely.

"I'm reaaallllly thankful for you kook" you giggle, the nickname just naturally spilling out from your lips. Your vision is blurry, but you´re almost certain you see a smile creep up his face.

He notices it too, feeling his heart turn warmer as his brain gets irritated at the feeling. To try and conceal his painfully loud heartbeat, he reaches to pour another shot. Throwing it back into his mouth, right after doing the same with the second one.

"Me tooooo" you laugh, reaching forward with grabby hands, trying to take the bottle away from him.

He stops you, pushing your arm back down, noticing his body becoming more dizzy and uncorrelated.

"You've had enough idiot, no more drinking for you" his voice is low and sultry, his eyes remaining glued to the smile on your face, not a serious thought behind your red and glazed eyes.

You´re a funny drunk for sure.

"Okay thennn but, kook?" You question, scooting closer to him on the couch. He winces at the nickname, it's not easy to ignore when you keep calling him that, keep reminding him of that feeling in his chest.

He stiffens up at your proximity, feeling the need to run away from this.

But he simply can not bring himself to do so.

"Hm?" he says, setting the bottle down and waiting for your question. He expects something stupid and senseless, his mind growing more fuzzy as the soju's effect kicks in.

"Why are you always so mean? I learned once in psychology class... you know.. people are mean to protect themselves" you slur, tugging playfully on his hoodie when asking the question.

He pulls his arm away, looking at the table and scoffing.

"Come onnn you know sooooo much about me too jungkook" you´re back to giggling again, the wide and drunken smile still spread on your face.

He takes another shot to prepare himself for this uncomfortable conversation, if he was even to engage in it.

Just in case.

The thoughts in his head are blurry, raw in emotion and unclear all at once. Memories of his past resurfacing in a haze, reminding him of the scars he carries within him.

Whether from the alcohol or the questions, his eyes become glossy.

"Had a bad upbringing, got bullied and beat a lot for stupid shit like my interests" his voice starting to slur out lowly, shaking his head at the memory of his hometown school. Jungkook sighs before taking a deep breath.

"Made me toughen up i guess" he says, his eyes wandering to meet your face again.

You were not smiling anymore, instead a big overly expressing pout on your lips. Mumbling a couple "M'so sorry kook"

He nods, ready to change the topic.

"You've a gooooood heart. Promise"

Your hands are both pressed against his chest, firmly.

Your touch feels like fire on his body, even if covered by a thick piece of clothing, he can feel it. He can feel every crevice of your skin slowly imprinting on his chest. Your words only leave behind a bigger mark, staining his brain with them.

Instead of pulling away, his eyes glue to you, remembering to engrave this moment into his mind, hoping it would still be there once he sobers up.

As he stares, he can't help but bite his lip at you flushes cheeks, how soft your hair looks, slightly draping on your lazy smile.

Suddenly, you take your hands off his chest, hugging them around yourself, dramatically shivering.

"Aahgg, so cold. Wow, are we in the arctics?" you laugh wholeheartedly at your stupid joke, convinced it must be the funniest thing you had ever said.

For the first time in a while, Jungkook acts before he thinks. Excusing it by his clouded state of mind, confident he can blame it all on the alcohol, not on his feelings.

He pulls his white hoodie above his head, leaving him in a tanktop. Without hesistation, he pulls you closer. So close, your knees are on top of his thighs, one more move and you would be sitting on his lap.

He puts the hoodie over you gently, telling you to push your arms up the sleeves.

You comply, laughing loudly.

He smiles when you get stuck in the hood,so he reaches to pull it down, revealing your messy haired head inches away from his own.

The world freezes and becomes yours only.

His face inches closer to yours, looking into your eyes softly. Your breath is quiet on his face as you are stood still, a small smile hung up on your lips. Screaming to be kissed, screaming for him to close the distance.

You might be drunk, but you aren't wasted.

Jungkook's face looks even more beautiful up close, the scar on his cheek perfecting his features, his sharp eyes looking at you as big, brown, doe ones instead.

He looks at you like you hung up the stares for him.

Your heart is clenching at the closeness, the moment feels eternal, only one more second until you would break all you had known and get what you had wanted most right now.

Jungkook licks his lip piercing, pulling away from you before clearing his throat.

It was almost like you could hear your heart shatter if you had listend close enough.

Foolish little me.

"We're both too drunk. Come on, let's get you into bed" he smiles at you softly, standing up wobbly and reaching his arm out to help you.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The alarm rings, causing Jungkook to wake up. Still on his couch, a annoyingly heavy feeling on his head.

Stupid hangovers.

Turning off the alarm he sits up, staring at the messy table before him. Three empty bottles of soju laughing at him for his stupidity.

Nothing goes right when he drinks.

He rubs his head in annoyance, noticing that he is not wearing his hoodie.

Memories of your face close to his, your hand on his chest, flashing in his mind.

Get yourself together, Jungkook, that's all meaningless. You can't keep flirting with your student.

Groggyly he calls into the office, announcing his absence for the day before cleaning up the mess that yesterday's night has left.

Throwing out the empty containers of food, gathering the two left over bottles and putting them into the fridge.

When taking the last steps to a clean living room, still thinking about the way your voice sounded saying his name yesterday, he knocks over an empty bottle of soju.

Crash.

You shoot up from the loud noise, immediately groaning at the penetrating headache that was the result of yesterdays escapades.

Should've known better.

When rubbing your eyes and yawning, you quickly walk out to room to look for the noise, spotting Jungkook crouched down, cleaning up the shattered glass.

"Ah fuck. Sorry i woke you up" he says, voice still raspy from sleep, turning his body to look at you. You stood there, sleepy and still in his comically large hoodie.

He wanted to stop thinking about you.

"Yeah its okay, you good? What time is it?" You stretch your arms up, only now noticing that you're still wearing his clothes.

Remembering the way you wanted him to kiss you just hours earlier.

"I´m good. Its dawn crack in the fucking morning because i thought I would be able to work today. No way in hell am i leaving this house" he groans, throwing away the glass shards.

You hum, awkwardly creating silence between the both of you.

Luckily he breaks it soon enough.

"Nice dress you got there" he remarks with a smirk, obviously making fun of you.

You scoff, pulling the hoodie over your head and throwing it at him.

He chuckles briefly at your actions, remembering how he threw a shirt at you before.

"Fair enough" he mumbles as you walk past him to the bathroom,

"Emotional" stopping next to him to pat his shoulder.

He glances at you, confused

"Are you talking in riddles to piss me off?"

"You're an emotional drunk, kook" you say, closing the door on him once again.

When having done your morning pee and it's time for you to walk back out of the bathroom, he´s sat on the couch.

"Why are you calling me by a nickname so suddenly?" he blurts out, his eyes sternly glaring at you. You scoff, wondering why he's so worked up about it.

Jungkook wanted nothing more than to forget what had happened, to not have to confront his feelings.

But if you were gonna call him 'kook', he would be constantly reminded of it.

Even if he liked the way it sounded, replaying in his mind.

"Because it suits you" your reply seems to anger him even more, unsure what you meant by your words.

"I'm not your little friend y/n. Don't get to comfortable" he spits out rudely, fully regretting it the moment his words leave his mouth.

Why was it so difficult to ignore you?

You roll your eyes at him, not taking it to heart. Well aware he's just saying things to hurt you.

After the way he opened up yesterday, even if drunk, you trusted him.

Trusted that he trusted you too.

His defenses are hard to lower, but you want to. Even if that means sometimes taking hits.

Jungkook needed someone to understand him, just like you needed someone like him as well.

Someone that accepts the way you are, while trying to help ypu change into a better version of you.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to strike a nerve" you reply casually, walking into the kitchen.

"I'm cooking hangover soup. If you're done being an asshole go get you some" your voice shouting from the kitchen.

"Whatever" he says, laying back down on the couch.

Googling up a recipe, you began cooking, occasionally looking at Jungkook passed out once again on his couch.

"Ridiculous" you huff out, lips pursed.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

"I'm NOT going to do that, no way Taehyung" you laugh at the guy in front of you.

Two days have passed since drinking with Jungkook. It's now friday afternoon, you're sitting in the library with the freshmen from the orientation.

Taehyung came up to you after class, asking to study for a test together. He´d been eyeing you ever since, still calling you ´´pretty´´ instead of your actual name.

The days have passed as normal, bickering with Jungkook and talking about things here and there.

You would be lying if you said that it hasn't been a little awkward.

It was getting harder to ignore the way you felt when Jungkook was around you, the way his strong veiny hands looked, the way he groaned at his laptop, adjusting his glasses.

How you wanted to trace every line of his sleeve tattoo.

The way you smelled his shirt he had given you to sleep in.

He was slightly more distant, restraining himself countless of times.

From thinking about you, wrapped around him.

"What? Why not. It's just a party" Taehyung smiles, closing down his laptop and taking a sip of his drink.

"Exactly. A freshmen party. I'm not a fan of parties, i pass. Hope you'll have fun though" you give him a thumbs up, shaking your head.

It was obvious that Taehyung wanted to take you there to get a chance at getting in your pants.

After seeing him on campus, he was always talking to some girl. It had only been two days that you hung out, counting today.

His flirty personality making it evident that although he could potentially be a good friend,

He was definitely not looking to date you.

Or anyone at all.

"A shame. You're kinda boring. Cute, but boring" he winks, packing up his stuff with you following suit.

"Thanks you party animal. Can't wait to hear about how many girls you've slept with after. Text me yeah? Stay safe" pulling him into a hug, you both walk outside of the library.

"Okay mom, will do"

Your face scrunches up in disgust at the nickname,

"Never do that again" you say hitting his arm, earning a loud laugh from him

Once you made sure Taehyung has left your eyesight, you walk behind the building to get into Jungkook's car.

Two minutes past the agreed upon time, you find him biting the inside of his cheek in annoyance.

"Hey, sorry I'm a wee bit late. Had to fight off demons" you joke while buckling in your seat.

"What happened this time?" Jungkook's eyebrow lifts curiously, he remembered Taehyung stopping you at the end of his class.

The thought pissed him off heavily,

"I was studying with Taehyung but he wanted me to come to a party with him" you explain, watching as his eyes darken and his hand tightening on the steering wheel.

"Is that so?" his voice sounding husky, "Are you going? I need to be prepared if i have to come pick you up disguised" he scoffs, looking out the window.

"Of course not. He's just saying that to get me tipsy in hopes of getting in bed with me" you giggle, amused by Jungkook's reaction.

When he stays silent, you decide to tease him.

"What? You look like something's bothering you kook" purposely using his nickname to push his buttons further.

His eyes look down at you, licking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

"Yeah? You're bothering me. I don´t wanna hear about some college boy in your pants, none of my business" he says, driving off to his apartment.

Another lie passing his lips, he definitely cared if you were going to sleep with some campus playboy.

Surpised at the fact he's not fighting you on the nickname, you decide to test your limits. Pushing his buttons could end up in a fight, if not, the smile he gives will have made it worth the risk.

"I told him to text me how many girls he'll sleep with. What do you think kook? Im guessing four" you nervously watch his features, concentrating on any changes that might indicate anger or annoyance.

"You're gross. I'm not playing that game with you. Also, i know exactly what you're trying to do. I don't mind the nickname, stupid"

You smile at his reaction, patting his shoulder,

"Good. I wouldn't have stopped using it anyways"

[cilliansmesoftly]

like a wrecking ball

pairing: john/buck egan x fem!reader

summary: you send buck sensual photos while he’s stationed

warning: talk of nude photos, dirty talk, sensual letters, inaccuracies about war, smut, oral (first time munching box 🐱) (fem! receiving), overstimulation, etc.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ what started off as marge taking pictures of you getting ready for a party, putting on lipstick and fluffing up your hair, ended with you asking marge if you could borrow her camera for a couple of days to take some photos for buck.

it was all in good fun. some ones with you crossed eyed, smiling, goofy and carefree. however, something possessed you to slip the strap of your dress off your shoulder click take the clip from your hair, letting down your loose, soft hair click and snap the clasp from your bra click.

you don’t know what came over you. you took over fifteen pictures in sensual poses, as if posing for a professional boudoir photoshoot. gosh, if anyone ever saw these, you thought. they’d have me carted off to the brothel or put into an asylum.

and what’s worse than that, you’d mustered up the courage to actually send them! with your stationary neatly stacked at your desk, your ink pen furiously wrote to your deployed lover.

My Love, I hear the war is getting harder. There’s no telling what you have to attest to that statement, they say Germany is killing our Air Force and I can’t help but to think of you. Fighting your hardest, having trouble sleeping at night, losing friends, losing family.

And even in all of this, I still feel sorry for myself for missing you. Everyone notices how miserable I am without you here. Without your touch, your smile, your kiss. Golly, even my mother visits! And you know how she is with me and boys, totally mentally insane.

Anywho, how is my love? And how is Gale? Marge misses him terribly. She has a sneaky suspicion that he is going to ask her to marry him.. though I think she may be going a bit stir crazy from not being with him, but who am I to talk?

Our girls are doing our best here, I work the soup kitchen most days for the people out of jobs and soldiers who have come home injured. My classes are going terribly, my focus only seems to train on you and what you’re doing, and if you’re safe.

I’m sending some pictures for you, John. Marge let me borrow her camera and the film just got back to me today, so I hope you enjoy. I miss you, love. I can’t wait for you to be back in my arms and within my reach. For now, take these photos and do with them what you like. Imagine me there, John. Just how I imagine you here with me. Oh, and please, please, please, do not let anyone see these!

Your Girl,

Y/N

you kissed the letter with scarlet stained lips, enclosed the envelope set with your photos, and sent it off, staring out of the window as the mailman carried it off to be shipped overseas, in the air, and into john’s trusted hands.

★

“mail!” a soldier shouted in the quiet cafeteria. men, all in matching green uniforms, scrambled to get up and horde the poor guy. he passed letters and packages around, assigning them with a last name shouted before he handed it to the rightful owner. “egan.” he said, dropping a single envelope signed with pretty cursive writing on the front.

“who’s it from?” gale asked sarcastically. he knew his friend was smitten with his girl from back home and she was one of the few- or rather only- person he took the time to write to.

“take a guess, clevens.” john replied smugly, tearing open the letter quite clumsily, the tear all jagged and the envelop ripped down the corner. out of that tear, a photo caught the eye of john. he squinted. “she sent photos.” he told gale.

“really? marge never sends me photos.” he mutters jealously. gale watched his friend’s face blush a bright red, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “what? what is it?”

“that’s for me to cherish, and for you… to never find out.” john smiled up at his friend. he took one of the many pictures out of the envelope completely and turned it many ways to look at all perspectives of your beauty. the way your hair fell over your eyes as you gazed lustfully at the camera lens. the way the intricate lace of your bra strap led down to the see-through fabric over your breast. he could see you perfectly. though the camera isn’t the most expensive and definitely not the most defined, john could tell you took your time making sure these photos were worth his while.

“damn, major. who is this beautiful dame?” lieutenant curtis was peaking over john’s shoulder and john slammed the picture down onto the table before he could see anymore of his girl.

“that’s mine, curt. you’ll have to find your own.” curtis made a booing sound and walked off playfully glum. “god, this girl’s gonna be the death of me.”

“are you gonna explain or am i gonna have to snatch the picture while you aren’t looking?” gale asked, running a hand through his blond hair.

“you ain’t seeing the pictures, nobody’s seein’ them but me.” john shook his head, a light blush still creeping up his neck, up his ears. “she sent nudie pictures.” he laughed under his breath, shoving the pictures deep into his pocket.

“what? let me see!” gale leaned forward, smiling from cheek to cheek.

“what?” john scoffed. “hell, no. i’m gonna marry this girl.” he leaned back away from the table, so gale couldn't grab him and force the photos out of his pocket. “hell, i ain’t even read the letter yet.”

“better get to writing a hell of a response. she won’t send anymore if you send some half-assed letter back, man.” gale laughed, taking a sip of coffee.

john finally took the letter out of the envelope, it still smelled like her. he brought it up to his nose and thought fondly of his beautiful girl back home. he missed her more than anything. unfolding the parchment, he smiled at her greeting, her penmanship was unlike any other. curling, twirling cursive letters filled the page and he caught a glimpse of the lipstick mark at the bottom of the page. oh, to kiss her lips again, buck thought.

his eyes scanned every word more than twice. he could hear her voice within the written words.

“she asked how you were doing.” buck told gale whose eyebrows lifted in gratefulness. “she also says that marge thinks you’re going to ask her to marry you.”

“damn it!” gale huffs, leaning his head back to look at the ceiling. “how does she know?”

“don’t know, man.” john laughs as he takes out a piece of paper from his pocket, always on hand for something like this, when he has to get to work immediately on writing you back.

My Beautiful Girl,

There’s nothing I want more than to be with you right now. In my arms, in my bed, all alone. No one but us, my sweet girl.

When I get back, I’m going to keep you to myself for a whole week. And those pictures? I never knew you to be so dirty. You should’ve seen my face when I opened up the envelope. I was about as red as a ripe tomato.

I long for nothing more than to kiss those sweet lips, your shoulders, your smooth legs, all of you. I am going to come home to you. I’m gonna crash through the front door and hold onto you until forever falls apart. There’s only a few more months until we’re together again, for good, hopefully.

And to answer your questions, I’m doing okay. we’re losing a lot of men, really quickly. I can’t help but to keep offering to go on missions, just so it doesn’t go haywire. Gale is also planning on asking Marge to marry him, but don’t you dare tell her. He was doing great until I told him about her correct accusations. He is currently laying his head down on the table and holding his hands to his head in despair.

My girl, I love you so much. Trust in this, I am always yours and no one will see these pictures but me, admiringly. I always imagine you with me. You’re with me when I sleep at night, when I’m up in the air, and especially in my heart. You keep me safe without even knowing, angel.

Love, John

★

just as john said in his letter, a few months and he’d be home. months turn into weeks, weeks turned into days, and days turned into hours. today was the day and you had been preparing since the sun first rose in the morning.

marge had also been on edge, their plane was to arrive at the tarmac at three in the afternoon. you and marge spent the day scrubbing, shaving, spritzing, and dressing. after that, you spent a few minutes straightening up the house and making sure there was some food warming up for him when he got home. even so, the hangar was only a few minutes down the road.

it was about a quarter past two now and marge was supposed to be with you about fifteen minutes ago. to say you were antsy would be a major understatement. you couldn’t keep the ball of your heel from bouncing on the floor, your poor nails had been chewed off hours ago.

a knock on the door knocked you out of your anxious daze and you sprang up from the couch to answer it.

marge’s glowing face entered your sight and you sighed in relief.

“you’re late.” you hugged your best friend tightly, then ran into the kitchen to grab your purse before meeting marge on the porch, closing and locking the door.

“i know, i’m sorry. i really don’t have an excuse, i was just so anxious so i drove a bit slower.” she admitted, which helped you feel a lot better. at least you weren’t alone.

“we shouldn’t be this nervous, really.” you sighed, walking down the sidewalk to marge’s car. you opened the door and sat in the passenger seat. marge followed suit and sat in the driver’s side, quickly cranking the key and speeding off to the airport. the plane was due to arrive at three, so you only had about fifteen minutes until you got to see your favorite person in the world.

"should we stand at the gate or try to get onto the actual tarmac?" marge questioned, looking around at all the other wives and girlfriends standing around.

"there's a guard at the gate, we'll just ask him if we can get in." you pointed at the man in a vest, a security badge pinned to his chest. you and marge waltzed up to the man with kind smiles painted on your lips. "hi, sir. how are you today?"

"just fine, and yourselves?" the man smiled warmly.

"absolutely dandy." marge grinned. "so, listen, we were just wondering. are we allowed to go onto the tarmac or do we have to wait behind the gate?"

"i can allow you on the tarmac, but do you see those cones over there?" he pointed behind him to bright orange cones lined up down the asphalt. the girls hummed in agreement. "you can't get more than thirty feet near them. that's where the plane will land and roll in and i will not be taking responsibility for a bunch of soldiers' wives getting run over because they decided not to listen, understand?" the man looked back to the women who nodded with wide eyes. "okay, let me open this." he fished a key out of his pocket and unlocked the gate, pushing it open so the girls could come in and await their loves.

marge checked the gold watch on her wrist. "should be about five minutes, y/n."

"i feel like i need to puke. do you feel like you have to puke?" you sputtered out quickly and marge placed her hands on your shoulders to calm you down.

"hey, there's nothing to be nervous about. john is a good man, a good man who misses you, okay? you have nothing to worry about except getting pregnant in the next twenty-four hours." marge giggled when you gasped.

"marge! watch your mouth or they'll carry you away." you two laughed before the distant sound of a plane rattled the ground beneath your feet. you looked up and there it was. the plane that carried your john back to you, safe and sound. you sighed, saying a quick prayer, before watching the plane land safely and roll into the hangar.

the wives were muttering relentlessly. it had been a few minutes since the plane got here and no soldiers had yet to step out. but finally, finally, a group of men all dressed in matching green jumpsuits and carrying the same bag came running out of the hangar in search of their reasons for fighting as hard as they did. marge spotted gale, his golden blonde hair flowing in the wind as he ran to her. he scooped her up in his arms, kissing her like it was from a movie. y/n laughed and clapped for her best friends, but she couldn't help but wonder where john was.

"hey, y/n. how are ya, girl?" gale walked up to the worrisome girl with his arm around marge's waist.

"i'm fine, gale! oh, we've missed you and john so much." she sighed as he wrapped his free arm around her in an embrace. "where is john, by the way?"

gale looked behind him and there he was, almost as if in slow motion. he was just as dreamy as the day she met him.

before she could stop herself, her feet picked up a quick pace and soon enough she was running to him, grinning and laughing. when she reached him, he dropped his duffle bag onto the floor and pulled her into his arms, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around.

“oh, my sweet y/n.” john muttered into her hair. she smelled so good. she smelled like home. he missed her like hell. and if she wasn’t half of his heart, there’s no way he would’ve survived. “i missed you so much.”

he let her down so her feet could touch the ground, but made no move to let her out of his embrace. y/n cupped the sides of his face and brought him into a searing kiss. a kiss that said everything she couldn’t. how grateful she was that he was home, that he’s safe, back in her arms. “i missed you so much more.”

“not possible.” he said against her lips.

“hey, if y’all don't mind i’d like to go home!” gale shouted at the couple, teasingly. marge playfully slapped him against his chest in scolding. he just laughed and grabbed her hand, leading her back to the gate.

“i guess we should go.” y/n sighed against him. john pouted and whined dropping his head to her shoulder. “the faster we get home, the faster you get to see all the new pictures i have.”

with that, he grabbed his bag off the ground and y/n’s hand, leading her to marge and gale, albeit very quickly.

★

marge dropped y/n and john off at her home, speeding off with a wave out of the window.

“i missed this place.” john said, looking up at the small house. y/n grabbed his hand gently and led him up the stairs of the porch. when they walked in, it smelled of a home cooked meal and pure love to john. “what’d you make, angel?”

“some steak,” she replied, walking in front of him to open the oven that was keeping the food warm. she felt john’s presence behind her, warm and inviting. “potatoes,” john wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips tickling the nape of her neck. her breath hitched as she leaned back against him. “and i baked a pie.”

“mmm, what kind?” his lips were right near her ear and he kissed the skin behind it, a light gasp leaving her pretty lips.

“cherry.”

“my favorite.” he turned her around and captured her lips in a kiss, lost in her already. she was breathless. this is all she had been waiting for, yearning every day and even worse at night. she missed his touch, his kiss, his everything. “those photos you sent drove me crazy, baby. took everything i had not to just tape it to the windshield of my plane.”

“there’s more.” she whispered, his lips all over her neck, sucking bruises that she would have to hide with a turtle neck. “you wanna see?”

he growled against her skin as she dragged him into the bedroom. she pushed him to sit on the bed, noticing the already prominent bulge in his green army pants. she kneeled down between his legs, eye contact heavy between them. john shifted where he sat, ready for anything she was about to give him. instead, she reached for the black box under her bed and placed it on his thighs.

“open it.” she sat back on her calves, watching him open the box with a brow lifted quizzically.

inside were more than 30 developed pictures, in all their vulgar glory. john let out a sigh and sat up straighter. he picked up a few and sorted through them, y/n was posed with a white lacy set adorning her body and light makeup on her face. she was in front of a mirror, playing with herself. she could hear his breath catch in his throat. he stared at each photo, getting harder by the second.

“do you like them?” she asked, he brought his attention back down to his girl. her big doe eyes looking pleading and seductive at the same time. she was still sitting back on her legs and the way she had her hands clasped in front of her made her arms push her breasts together, giving john a teasing view of her cleavage.

“like them? b-baby, i want these burned into my memory.” he stuttered over his words and that’s how y/n knew she had him wrapped around her finger. the usually stoic, firm, but kind man she fell in love with is gradually falling apart at the seams, all because of her. “y’know what, though?”

“hm?”

“i think i prefer the live action version.” the smirk on his face was deep, setting smile lines onto the left side of his face.

“well, good thing you got it for the rest of your life, baby.” she sat up on her legs, placing her hands on the tops of his thighs for stability. john leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back. he groaned, his mouth open and waiting for her to crash into him.

“i’d rather you not tease me right now, angel.” he breathed against her lips. y/n just giggled and took the box from his lap, placing it back under the bed. she stood to her full height and john wrapped his arms around her hips, letting her sit herself on his lap. she gasped when she felt how aroused he was. “kiss me.”

“not yet.” she smiled, leaning away from his lips. “let me undress you?”

john agreed and let her pull his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants. she flung the fabric somewhere behind her and giggled. his toned chest was warm and soft, she grazed her fingers over every freckle and mole that she had missed so much, kissing over every one she saw. she let her hands drag down to his belt that she skillfully unbuckled while maintaining eye contact with her lover.

john was going absolutely insane, he had never seen this side of her before. so powerful, so in tune with both of their bodies, and ever so confident. he was enchanted.

“can we try something?” he asked suddenly when she pulled his belt through the last loop.

“what’s that, baby?” she started to kiss his neck, licking and sucking all over the soft skin and john moaned while trying to get his words out.

“the g-guys were talking about- fuck, how good it is to eat pussy.” he whined when y/n stopped in her tracks. she detached her lips from his body and leaned back to look at him.

“you wanna try that?” she looked shocked.

john nodded submissively, blush rushing to the tops of his ears and creeping down his neck.

“just lie down, i’ll take care of you.” he cradled her neck in his large hand. he brought the other one to the buttons of her dress, slowly taking each one out. when he caught sight of the bralette adoring her figure, he brought his head down to kiss at the top of her skin and the lacy fabric. “i’m liking all this new underwear, baby.”

“all just for you.” she whispered. she carded her fingers through his hair, her head tilted back in pleasure at the magic he was working on her body. she was soaked and he had barely even done anything.

john took the rest of her dress off and lifted her to stand, it dropped to her feet onto the floor and she stepped out of it. he laid her back down, propping a pillow behind her head.

“you still okay?” he asked, kissing down her belly. her answer was breathy and barely audible, but he heard it, so he continued. his fingers grazed the hem of her white panties, a pink bow adorning the middle. the innocence of it all made john’s head feel dizzy. he slowly dragged her underwear down her legs, savoring every moment with her. “let me know what feels good, honey.”

“oka-” her voice failed her as john brought his lips up to her swollen bud. if he was new at this, he sure was a fast learner. his tongue was circling her clit, but trailed down to her entrance that was sopping with arousal. as soon as he got his first taste, john wrapped his arms around the backs of her thighs and brought her closer to his mouth. “oh, my god.”

“feel good?” he muttered quickly, going back to licking and slurping as if his life depended on it.

“fucking unreal.” her head was thrown back, fingers digging into the pillow behind her. her hips were bucking onto john’s face, forcing his nose to bump her clit. she felt his fingers prodding at her and she mewled, her back arching against the bed. “won’t last, if you do that.”

“that’s the whole point, sweets.” he was smiling against her. her overstimulation was amusing to him.

“wanna come on your cock, baby.” he groaned against her core, sending waves of pleasure through her entire body. her eyes were clenched so tightly, she wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up wrinkled on the lid.

begrudgingly, he pulled back, kneeling in front of her. he made sure to look into her eyes as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, moaning around them at the sweet taste of her. “tastes like honey, baby.”

“i’m sure you taste better.” she flirted back, her eyelashes fluttering. and as much as he would love to shove his cock down her throat, her cunt was much more appealing at the moment.

“maybe tomorrow. tonight’s about you, doll. and how much i missed you.” his belt had already been undone by her, so all he had to do was unbutton them and let them fall to the floor. “do you wanna know how i spent my nights?” he mounted his sweet girl, a knee between her legs and his arms holding himself up to look into her eyes. “i had a room to myself, y’know.. bein’ major comes with some perks. i’d take out those photos you sent me.. every night. like fuckin’ clock work.” she could feel him lining himself up with her entrance. the head of his cock prodding at the greedy hole that was oh so eager to take him. “i’d picture you there, running your hands all over me, like you always do. latchin’ yourself onto me. lovin’ me so good…”

her eyes were sparkling under the warm lights of the lamps on the beside tables. her bottom lip was quivering with need, her back arching up to try and get him to slip into her, but every time she bucked her hips, he would pull just inches away. she was writhing beneath him, aching to have him in her. “bucky, please.”

“hang on, darlin’.” john was smiling ear-to-ear. he knew what he was doing to her, he loved to see her all riled up just for him. “i’d fuck my fist every night to those sweet pictures.. just counting the days until i’d see you again. til i could kiss you again, til i could fuck you again.”

he kissed the side of her neck before thrusting himself all the way into her cunt. the stretch was euphoric to her after not having anything but her fingers, that she could not work as well as john could. she hissed in pleasure as he pulled out, just to the tip, and thrusted in harder, setting a nice and steady pace.

“faster.” she breathed against his lips. he obliged quickly, pressing into her harder and faster than he had before. she was clawing her nails down his back, and he whimpered into her neck. he thought his fantasies were good? this was a hundred times better than anything his mind could’ve conjured up. she was squeezing so tight he could barely pull out, but god was it amazing. he couldn’t make his mind think about anything but her. “you feel so good, buck. better than i dreamed.”

“you been dreamin’ about me too, sweetheart?” he kissed her cheek, chin, and lips. he swiped his tongue over her bottom lip and she opened her mouth wider, letting him taste all around. she could faintly taste herself on his tongue and she moaned at the vulgarity of it all.

john snuck his fingertips down her belly, tracing her skin on the way down to her swollen clit, he circled it in slow, smooth movements. y/n threw her head back with her bottom lip between her teeth.

“cmon baby. give it to me.” he growled in her ear. his hips were losing their rhythm and he refused to come before her. “come for me, darlin’.”

she held her hand to the back of his neck, keeping him latched to her chest. john sucked and bit over her chest, leaving dark marks all along her skin. her thighs were trembling in pleasure as john worked himself faster against her hips. the only sounds in the room were the couple’s lewd and borderline pornographic curses falling from their swollen lips and skin slapping against skin. john could feel her core clenching tighter and tighter and he knew that coil in her belly was about to snap.

“john, i’m coming.” her voiced was pinched as she wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles at his lower back. she moaned even louder as he hit even deeper, hitting that spot inside of her so well, she was seeing stars.

“give me all you got, baby.” he whispered against her chest, his fingers still working circles against her clit. she pressed her nails into his skin, surely leaving bloody red marks all over his freckled back. her climax hit her like a train and then it hit her again and again in the most intense aftershocks she had ever had, she was leaking all over his cock and john look down to where the two of them were connected, wet and slick in both of their arousal. the sight alone had him coming inside of her with a loud groan, and collapsing onto her.

while the two of them caught their breath, john’s head perked up with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“what?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“you still got that camera from marge? i’d love to take some pictures of us that we both can enjoy.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: it's saturday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You follow the king into the great hall. Despite the sun beaming in through the open doors and the chirping of sparrows from the courtyard, it is a dour affair.  

King Geralt marches across the hall as you stand by a tall candelabra near the door. It remains unlit as the summer lights much of the space through the long windows and broad doors. He approaches the bishop in his robe and sash and points the man with a terse grunt. Lord Dustan and Lady Rozlyn stand behind the cleric, looking fraught. 

“Where is the bride?” The king growls as his golden eyes skim the stone walls. 

“Your highness, we’ve just called for her--” 

“She is aware of our impending nuptials, she would keep her betrothed waiting?” The king rebukes, “you summer souls and your flimsy spines.” 

The duchess twitches in offence but does not rebuff the insult. The wine has subsided well enough to allow her some sense. Lord Dustan’s lips press tight and he claps. 

“My daughter, at once,” he hisses in your direction. 

Before you can turn on your sole, the king grunts, “fetch her yourself. How can I trust you to keep my kingdom in order if you cannot bring the same to your own house?” 

“Yes, your highness,” Dustan blanches, “it was only I thought it would be swifter to send the maid.” 

“It would be swifter if you stilled your tongue,” King Geralt barks. 

The duke recoils and hurries off. Your eyes meet the king’s and he gives a slight tilt of his head and you resume your plaintive stance. Lady Rezlyn looks him up and down before she withdraws her gaze and instead focuses on the portrait of her husband’s predecessor.  

The air grows stagnant as you wait. When at last a stirring comes from above, the king is gripping the dagger on his belt. He is not impressed with the delay. 

“Father, I am here, I am here, unhand me,” Lady Jazlene blusters in ahead of the duke. She wears the red and ivory and matching ribbons have been braided into her curls. She has several necklaces piled around her neck and her hands are adorned in tones of silver and gold. “I am ready,” she sighs as she approaches the bishop and face the king, “it is not the wedding I dreamt of but for a king, I might settle.” 

King Geralt’s golden eyes narrow. He looks through his bride and she wavers on her feet as she reaches for him. He does not offer his hand nor his arm before he faces the bishop. 

“The vows,” the king demands flatly. 

“Er,” the bishop falters and searches the chamber. 

“Where is the writ?” The king hisses, “do you not have a scribe?” 

“Here, your highness, here,” Dustan waves to a squire waiting near the outer doors. “It only requires ink and seal, after the vows of course.” 

The king exhales hotly and faces the bishop again, signaling with a curt flick of his fingertips. You only then notice Merinda across from you, she must’ve followed the noble daughter in. She exchanges a glance with you, she is not more amused than King Geralt. 

“Ahem,” the bishop adjusts his tall cap, “let us begin. We commune here today to--” The king waves his hand dismissively and the cleric flinches. “Hm, uh, sir, your highness, my lord, King Geralt, of Rivia and the Hinterlands, and the Summer countries,” he stutters as his eyes droop, “do you swear, by the sacred rites and the laws of the realm, to take this woman in blessed matrimony? To attend to your duties as husband and keeper, until death?” 

The ceremony is as brusque as anything the king does. He does not have time or patience for the pageantry or prolonged talking. His shoulders rise with his breath and he heaves out, “I make this vow.” 

“And, Lady Jazlene, daughter of Debray, do you swear, by the sacred rites and the laws of the realm, to take this man in blessed matrimony? To attend to your duties as wife and servant, until death?” 

Jazlene sniffles and makes a show of blotting her face with her sleeve. Her mother blubbers from the side and Lord Dustan hushes her. Their threatrics are almost humourous amid the solemn air. King Geralt rumbles and stares over the bishop’s head. 

“I... I make... I make this vow,” Jazlene bawls and pulls out a handkerchief from her bosom. She covers her nose and wipes away her tears. “I shall love the king and serve him better than any w-w-wife.” 

The bishop hesitates as he looks between the bride and groom. He nods and beckons forth Lord Dustan, “so we will seal this marriage in ink and wax. Sign your names and let the royal stamp be applied to set in bond your fates until the black night sees you to rest.” 

Dustan comes forward with the parchment and signals to another unseen figure. A servant brings forth a quill and well as the contract is laid out on the table near the wall. The king approaches as Jazlene weeps at his side, trailing after him as she trembles. The king signs first, with a slash of the quill, then Jazlene barely keeps hold of the pen as she loops her name across the rough surface. 

She drops the feather and fans herself. She looks around, preening, and grabs onto the king’s arm, “so we are married.” 

He doesn’t react. He turns without acknowledgement as she stays latched on, pulled forth by his easy strength. His gaze touches yours as you watch the strange and strained scene. This is unlike any wedding you’ve ever seen, though you haven’t seen a noble one in all your life. Only the whispered vows of servants behind the stables or in the meadows. Those ones that are only written in spirit. 

His eyes quickly flit away and he sets his sight on the doorway beside you. He walks forward with his bride dragging on his arm. His mail jostles loudly with his steps as his soles scuff. 

“Let the marriage be consummated,” he mutters without look back, “you will be ready to travel at dawn.” 

“Your highness?” Dustan stumbles forward, “dawn?” 

“Husband, am I to come with you?” Jazlene murmurs. 

“A kingdom must be rebuilt,” King Geralt states without inflection. “I will not rule over a resentful people, I will show them I fought for them, not against them. And you will follow through on your vows to me or find I am not so weak as that fool, King Waleran.” 

⚔️

You help Merinda with Lady Jazlene’s travel chest. You pack away as much as you can; shifts, nightclothes, gowns, stockings, all that you think she would like to take with her. The sudden departure allows you little time for ponderance, you only do as you must. As ever. So is life. 

“She will hate it in the Hinterlands,” Merinda scoffs, “when I served for the earl, there was a man from the Winter Isles. He was missing fingers from the cold. He told me how they turned black and fell off.” 

“Then she will need to find some mitts,” you shrug as you roll up a cloak. Much of the lady’s clothes are not suited to a colder climate. She has no furs; they are not needed in the Summer lands. Midsummer through to High Summer offer little more than a cooling rain between mild to sweltering highs. 

“Perhaps she should bundle up against her husband too,” Merinda snickers, “he is icy as the tundras he hails from.” 

“He is a king, he has much to worry for,” you sniff. 

“Mm, I suppose, though he hardly ever looks concerned for anything. Speaks even less,” she muses, “I suppose Lady Jazlene will speak plenty for both of them.” 

“Queen Jazlene,” you correct her bleakly. 

“Oh, he should worry for that,” the other maid chuckles again. “Though I suppose now she will have all the gowns she likes.” 

“Perhaps,” you allow. 

“Let us prosper here without her demands. Where it is warm and sunny,” Merinda sighs. 

“It will be rather quieter,” you agree. 

You carry on until the chest is near overflowing. You sit on the lid as Merinda buckles the straps. You will need some male servants to come carry it to the stables. That should wait until morning. Lady Rezlyn bid you wait in her daughter’s chamber should she emerge from the king’s. 

You pack a smaller chest for her jewels and her cosmetics, and a few books she’s worn down with her fingertips, and her sewing hoops and needles. Oft, she only holds onto those possessions as she gossips with her mother. You suppose that will be difficult. When the duchess and her husband return home and their daughter must face her obligation without ally. 

There are servants like Merinda who might covet gems and pretty things, but you’ve never much envied the noble type. They have overly much responsibility. You only need swab a floor or lace a dress. Life could not be simpler. 

“Hm,” she hums and gives a cluck of her tongue. 

You wind up a length of ribbon and put it in the chest. You feel Merinda watching you. You look up and arch your brows. “What?” 

She smiles, “you remind me of him.” 

“Who?” 

“The king,” she tinkles with laughter, “you are both so... quiet. You never say more than you need to. I can appreciate that given who we serve but you are a hard nut.” 

“I don’t have much to say, suppose,” you reply. “Don’t know very much of the king, either.” 

She’s quiet as you carry on. You assume some things will need to be sent after the lady; the queen. It will be a long journey and not one which you think would entail many banquets. It’s a scary unknown ahead of Lady Jazlene, though it is overdue. 

When the smaller chest is full, you and Merinda lift it onto the larger. It is late and the night hue surrounds you as only a single flame is lit. You yawn intermittently but neither of you dare lay down to sleep. You wouldn’t want to be accused of idleness. 

You sit on the window bench and watch the moon as Merinda paces through shadows. You rest your chin in your hand but only for a moment as suddenly the hinges groan and cut through the din. You stand as Merinda faces the door sharply. 

Lady Jazlene drifts in. The ribbons in her hair are loose and her dress is still laced tight, though her skirts are rumbled and wrinkled. She leaves the door ajar behind her as she ambles stiffly towards the bed. She turns to fall onto the bench at the foot of the four-post frame. 

She doesn’t speak as she stares ahead. Merinda shuts the door as you inch towards the noble woman. She offers no reaction as you hover near her. She presses her hands above her knees and shudders out a breath. 

“My lady,” Merinda speaks first, glancing at you cautiously, “your highness, would you... would you like a bath?” 

Jazlene doesn’t answer. Her head moves subtly back and forth then dips again. She balls fabric in her fists. 

“I did what mother said,” she croaks, “and... I was... I was aroused. I was ready...” she murmurs. 

You and Merinda stand in silence. You’ve never heard the noble daughter speak so smally. She lifts her head. 

“I did it. I did my duty,” she declares, “but he...” she rises and you back away as she sweeps around the bed, a hitch in her step. She goes to the mirror and leans in, touching her cheeks, turning her head this way and that, “I’m beautiful, aren’t I? Mother says, father says... but the king... the king...” 

She blows out her breath and is silent. She spins and clutches her bodice. She looks down at herself. 

“He didn’t even let me take this off,” she babbles, “then he just... sent me away.” She puts her hand to her chest, “a bath? Did you say a bath?” She looks at Merinda, “yes, I must wash. Wash it all away.” She clears her throat and drops her hand, rolling her shoulders, “tomorrow we must leave--” her voice catches, “I must go to my new home with my...” she puts her back to you and sits on the cushioned seat before the vanity, “...husband.” 

You nod to Merinda and cross the room to meet her at the door. You share a look, one which doesn’t need conversation. Even though she’s laid with a man, your fellow maid looks distressed. You go out into the hall, pulling shut the door gently in the nocturnal dim. 

“Do you think he was cruel?” Merinda asks. 

“It isn’t our concern, is it? It is a wife’s duty...” you whisper, uncertain. 

“It was her first,” Merinda remarks, “perhaps she was unready.” 

“We shouldn’t speak of it,” you gird. 

“You needn’t be so chaste,” she reproaches, “if I didn’t know her wrath, I might even feel sorry for the lady.” 

“Mer,” you warn again, “let us get some water for the bath.” 

Merinda chuffs, “you are so... boring.” 

You walk away from her, ignoring her chiding. You don’t care if she thinks you dull. It isn’t your place to judge the marital matters of the lady and her husband. It is even dangerous to gossip over royal business. You will not chance it. 

She follows. You descend and go to boil a pot in the kitchen. Merinda lights several candles as you go to work. You carry the large vessel between you. Several trips up and down to fill the large tub. Merinda undresses Jazlene as you go to return the pot. 

You place it near the fire stove as the embers burn low and orange. You stand in front of it, the cindery scent tinging your nostrils. You should go back but unease lingers in your gut. The way Jazlene just stared, how hollow she sounded, you’ve never seen her like that. 

The candles behind you flicker and you turn to the swirling shadows. There’s a figure just inside the doorway, almost ghostly, much too towering to be the cook. You gulp and fold your hands against your stomach. 

“Hello?” You utter to what must be a wraith. 

There is no answer, the silhouette merely moves towards you. You steel yourself, a scream caught in your throat. The tint of the fire stove reflects off golden irises and the king’s figure comes clearer in the night. You suck in air and steady your feet. 

“Your highness,” you gasp. 

“Ale,” he sneers. 

“Yes, your highness, I will fetch--” 

“To my chambers,” he demands, looming over you. 

“Yes, your highness, ale, at once,” you go to spin and he grabs onto your arm, drawing you back. He grips tightly, squeezing as he pulls you into the haze of warmth radiating from him. Or perhaps that is the oven. 

He holds you, puffing out breaths as he glares down at you. You’re trapped in his simmering sights. You look up at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. He lets out a low snarl and slowly releases you. 

“I hate these summer lands,” he grumbles as you stagger back. 

You still and stare as he backs away. He turns on his heel and stalks towards the door, leaving you in frightful curiosity. You open and close your fingers, your forearm tingling from his firm grasp. You rub it through your sleeve as you spin towards the cellar. You will be certain to grab a full cask for the king’s thirst. 

[pinky-promis3s]

☾☯☽

Letting You Draw On Them

☾☯☽

Imagine: you have a sharpie, they have skin, its free real estate

Includes: Colby and Sam

☾☯☽

Colby Brock

You knew how much Colby adored his tattoos, he had a story to each one and a meaning that he could ramble on for hours. It was hard to lie that you didn't love his tattoos either, frequently you had found yourself trace the ink with your finger and just mesmerizing the design and details. It especially happened in the morning when you would be tucked to his side, your head pressed against his chest and a palm gently over his heart lock tattoo. When you would finally wake up, that was how you would wake him up just by tracing his tattoos and admiring each one till he eventually work up; tickled from your grazing touch.

When the words left your mouth, you expected an immediate no but in your surprise, he just gave you a spare sharpie marker he had and his hand. He seemed to be too focused in his conversation with Sam and Jake to really care what you were doing to his skin or what you were putting on it. Of course, you weren't an ass. You weren't just gonna draw a penis and call it a day, no you wanted to make something nice on his skin, something he could be proud of and go 'hey my partner did this' so you did.

When he finally looked at your little drawing on the back of his hand, he smiled at it and kissed the side of your head, "you're so talented baby, thank you."

These little drawing sessions had continued, every now and again when he would just be sitting there and not doing anything too important, you would pounce with the sharpie. Or if the drawing had started to fade, he would offer up his hand after a shower and ask you to redraw it, wanting to wear your artwork for a little longer than the universe would allow.

☾☯☽

Sam Golbach

Sam never thought he would ever have a tattoo, it was one of those things he would admire from a far but would never do to his own skin. Months of dating and you had never told Sam about your passion for drawing, it was one of those little things you did when you were bored and you were never bored around Sam. But one night he had been editing while you were sitting on the bed across from Sam's desk, he had been in his editing zone and you found herself finding a pen on the bedside table of his bed. Without paper around, you leaned against the wall against Sam's bed and start to draw on your exposed skin, every now and again looking up to Sam who had his eyes glued to the screen.

You had lost yourself in a zone and soon found your entire forearm covered in your little drawings. When Sam had finished his editing and took off his headphones, he eyed you doodling on your skin and laid down on the bed, propping himself up on his elbow and watching you draw.

"Would you do those little drawings on me?" when you had asked Sam to repeat, not quite believing what you had heard, he had repeated with a soft smile, "I just think you're really good and I'd like to have your work on my skin." You watched Sam roll up his sleeve and offer you his arm and a giddy little joy went over you.

You practically bounced on your knees and soon had a matching doodled up arm with your boyfriend. After that day, Sam soon had asked to see all your drawings and you were happy to show him no matter what, especially when soon after the showing of your art, you found Sam asking for your drawings more and more. He loved when people would point it out in parties just so he could get a little bit more to brag about to people about how awesome you are

☾☯☽

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[yooglefics]

Reveal — Part one: recording

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader ) Wordcount: 2,198 words Genre: smut. 18+. mdni. don't use fanfics as your only source of sex ed, pls. Summary: your friend convinced you to record an audio for your OF, but doing it alone is nerve-wracking so you turn to your favorite creator for help.

Includes: Mentions of selling sex content. Mentions of sexual activity ( doing things and also talking about doing things ). Implicit masturbation instructions. Masturbation ( f and m ) ( wash your hands before putting them anywhere, folks ). People filming/recording sex acts. Use of pet names? ( baby, doll ). Dirty talk. Mentions of Jungkook x fem!reader but they are just frieeends. Author's note: I started writing this with hopes of it just being alright because I wanted to write something quick but then it got longer and here we are. Hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a comment, reblog, ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

It's been six months since you started this side job. At first, it was a combination of curiosity and a little desperation since money was tight after your roommate and best friend decided to go back to live with her parents. You didn't complain too much about it because you didn't want her to feel bad, and besides, you actually missed having your own space. 

But lonely nights with insomnia thanks to the stress at work, let you to explore sides of the internet you had only heard about in bathroom conversations. Curiosity got the best of you and so, here you are, going through comments on your last onlyfans post.

You've been able to grow a decent-sized audience, it may be a bit small to others but it’s manageable and you like that. Some of them are people you followed before, during your investigation stage, and now became your mutuals. You truthfully see them as your friends, like Jungkook.

He was the first person with quite a big audience who followed you back and you truly believe half your followers came from his page, even though he denies it and tells you it is all your doing. He really has a way of lifting your confidence and that's why after a few months you meet in person to shoot things together, nothing too spicy, just a shoot with Calvins and denim jackets. You were surprised when he didn't suggest something more than that, but Jungkook said “You're too sweet to fuck in a first meeting, but maybe later”.

You thought he was just partially joking, although a few meetings have passed and he hasn't tried anything. To be honest, is a bit disappointing since he is so attractive, but at least he is still willing to help you with fun photoshoots in your apartment.

A comment in the picture where Jungkook’s hand is around your throat caught your eye. When you suggested it, it was funny. A silly little joke about what people thought actually happened behind the scenes and a way to hide your face from the camera.

When you saw it after, it was less funny and much hotter. Even if he wasn't applying pleasure on your neck, the muscles on his forearm were visible under the ink, the lighting and shadows reflected on the skin of your chest that wasn't covered by the cami top you were wearing that day, and your gold babygirl collar sat perfectly on top of your breast.

You couldn't be mad at the people saying they wished to be in your place. You were jealous of yourself, damn it.

That's why the comment popped out between the others, because it was jealousy of Jungkook they were talking about.

[ JustADude: “Fuck. He is the luckiest man alive if he gets to hold you and listen to all your pretty sounds.” ]

Cheeks blushing, you giggle thinking about how Jungkook hasn't done those things. But you have to admit that the idea of people being interested in hearing is a turn on. And maybe it shouldn't be a surprise considering taking pictures for others does but… could you… ?

Your phone rings, indicating a text and interrupting your thoughts.

Kookie: told you, a voice reveal would be amazing!!

You laugh at the attached image been of the comment you were just reading.

Y/n: but i'm shyyyyy

Kookie: you can just record a masturbating session Kookie: and review it and decide if you post it or not

Y/n: if i review it i’ll not post it lol

Is true. You'll get too much in your head and shy away.

Y/n: i barely go over pics before posting because of it

You remember him as if he didn't check your newest pictures for you.

Kookie: i can help too! Kookie: i mean Kookie: no pressure, ofc Kookie: but it would be SOOO HOT

Not sure if it's for the idea of recording yourself or the fact that Jungkook is encouraging you, but your pussy reacts to the words on screen and is settled. You are doing it.

Following the suggestion of just recording a session, you prepare as usual, sitting cross-legged on your bed, laptop in front while looking for something… inspiring.

You think about maybe looking through Jungkook’s page, rewatching his last video, but at the end get too paranoid about him listening to himself in the background even if your mic is hooked up in your bra strap, as closest as it can to your mouth.

So, you think of something else. The image of a hand around your throat still fresh in your mind leads you to the page of someone whose hands you've been thinking about in many other sessions. SugaD.

A few taps on your keyboard and his page is flashing on your screen, those exact veiny hands greeting you on his last post.

“Oh, well… here goes nothing.” 

Embracing yourself, you turn on your mic, giving a few taps to make sure it’s working, “hi,” a nervous giggle echoes your room, suddenly making you aware of the silence and glad you'll have noise beside your own.

Inspecting better Suga's post, you realize is an announcement for his last video, and the line “for all those asking for more hand porn, i got you ;)” feels like is calling you out, but you can start feeling the need between your legs so there's just so much shame and fucks to give left.

A few more clicks and the video is on full screen, starting with an empty black leather chair and then Suga coming into frame and sitting down. His face is not visible as in any other video, but following the movements of his hand, you realize his neck is. Pale skin in contrast with black t-shirt.

“This angle is kinda…” he trails off, soft laugh at the end.

“Hot,” you complete, confident Jungkook will, after laughing at you, delete it from the final audio. 

“You can't tell me I'm mean anymore. I'm spoiling you,” Suga continues in the video, “I'm giving you this view and I'm giving you what's probably the thing you all ask the most for: hands.”

And there they are. His goddamn hands. Close frame and adorned with silver rings in a few fingers. And when he turns them around you can admire how veiny and manly they are.

“I hate him. I'm gonna sue him,” you murmur, because in the month you have been following him, something you've come to find out is that Suga always knows what he is doing. He knows that jiggling his fingers and making the accessories click, paint a picture on people's minds. He knows how to dirty talk without making it cringe. And, more than anything, knows how to tease and keep his audience on their toes. 

You turn the volume down a bit more to make sure it really isn’t audible through your mic.

“Are you sitting, doll? Imagine you're on my lap right now,” he pats his tights and finally you move, positioning yourself on your knees as if you were, as he suggested, straddling him.

“That view would be amazing. You right here,” he pretends to hold someone by their hips in front of him and yours play pretend on your own body, moving them up and down as he does. “Maybe I'd tease you first, play with your tits, your nipples first. Why don't you do that, baby? Touch yourself for me.”

Letting out a groan is your way to express frustration against the fabric covering your chest, unable to remove your bra so the mic stays in the right place. Controlling your breath, you focus on the video again. Suga is playing with himself, hand against his chest just like yours, “How does it feel?” 

“I want you to touch me,” you whisper. And clearly, you know he is not able to hear you, and you're scared you'd sound like an idiot at the end, but you figure this is your chance to experiment being a bit vocal. After all, this whole thing is supposed to be a voice reveal, not just moans. 

Although, it's quite difficult not to do it with the sight on screen. “Look what you do to me,” he complains, voice raspy and hand traveling south to the bulge on his joggers.

“Are you hard?” You cringe at that one. Shaking your head to not let it get to much on your head and sending everything to the trash. Breathing, your right hand mirrors his actions and travels down your body. 

He gropes himself with a groan and you moan just at the sound. Imagine a smirk on his face as you cup yourself through your underwear. The lace is so thin is impossible to hide the fact you're already so wet. 

Another moan and you debate on skipping a few seconds on the video since you need him to do something. Give you anything.

But he is a teaser. 

He strokes through layers of fabric even when his own noises let it be known is torture for him. “I wonder…” he breathes, “how much clothes do you have? Are you dressed like I am, or are you completely naked?” His hips thrust up, into his hand and he pulls it away. “Would you come by just grinding on my cock?”

“F-fuck,” you moan when he intentionally bucks his hips upward, veins on his hands popping up when he holds into the chair. You hate him, you really do. Because he is holding back and you just want to see him.

“Please, please,” and as if it were even possible he hears you, he takes his dick in one hand and out of his pants.

You moan in appreciation and finally allow your hand to sneak into your panties too. The much desired contact makes your legs feel like jelly for a second and you have to sit back on your heels while the guy on screen keeps driving you insane.

His hand moves up and down his length, thumb collecting precum at the tip and using it as lubricant, but when that is not enough, his hand disappears off the frame, up to his face. The sound is enough to help with the imagination and quickly he is back in business.

Your eyes are fixed on every movement, every sound. Your hand matches his speed and you don't know what is hotter, the wet skin sounds or the bracelet on his wrist? Because the silver chain moves as fast or even faster and makes a sound of its own. Ah, it is so impossible for you not to imagine what it would be to look at it from your perspective. If the fingers in your pusy were his.

You push into yourself, your breath caught at the sensation before adding another one, “ooh… oh.” 

Can't master more than a few sounds, your mouth dry, it has been open since he uncovered himself. Oh, what would you do to have him in your mouth at least once. 

“The things I'd do to you.” The recording continues, “And I bet you would let me, no questions asked, right?”

“S-so good,” your knees dig into your bed and you're glad you follow Jungkook's advice of protecting your duvet with a towel. “It feels so good, oh god.” 

“Are you using your fingers? A toy? Would you like my dick instead?” He laughs breathlessly, “I would like to feel your pussy too. F-fuck, I'd fuck you so good, baby. Don’t you think so?”

“Uh uh,” short moans leave your lips, the palm of your hand rubbing on your clit before going back to back and forth motions. Fingering yourself and your eyes close as you enjoy the pleasure, and let more noises flow.

When you open them again Suga on screen has his other hand around his neck, head tilted back. Is not choking him, but you assume he is into that. “Oh… f-fu… pleasee,” he is going to be the end of you. How can you not imagine being on top of him, riding him, your hand on his throat or maybe his on yours. “I'm… oh, I'm…” a loud moan interrupts your announcement as you cum practically riding your hand. 

There's silence. Well, your breathing is fast and the mic most likely will pick it up, but you try to compose yourself for a few seconds while looking at the blank screen that indicates Suga finished too. He never shows it on camera and the only indication he did is the aftermath, this time, on his black t-shirt when he says his “you did great, kitten” to sign off.

The next day Jungkook sends you the audio archive as promised. And is up on your page as fast as possible, it doesn't matter if it doesn't get attraction for a few hours because it's too early on the day, but if you think about it too much, you'd scratch the whole idea.

But not a minute passes and you have notifications of a new follower and a comment.

[ SugaD now follows you ] [ SugaD: the cutest. ]

➪ Part two. | ➪ Part three. | ➪ Updates for this verse | ➪ Ko-fi

➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats ♡

Edit: i forgoooot! If you want to be tagged on part 2 or future projects let me know <3

Edit 2: I made a post with different options for tag lists in case anyone is interested. You know, for future projects and stuff. But don't feel preassure to request it, and thank you for following this mini series.

[phoward89]

Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

Series Masterlist

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker!Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC. Dark!Coriolanus, Jealous!Coriolanus, Dom!Coriolanus

Chapter 4:

You just resumed chopping up the vegetables for the quick stir fry you were going to make for dinner whenever a knock sounded at your door. Oh, so Coriolanus came back for his forgotten jacket. That's good. So, without giving it much thought, you put down your knife and left the kitchen- to go into the main room and answer the door.

But when you opened the door, it wasn't your platinum blonde ex that greeted you, but your current bronze haired boyfriend. Odysseus.

“I brought you some dinner from North Italia.” He smiled, holding up a couple of cardboard boxes with the restaurant’s label on them. “It's squid ink tonnarelli and tiramisu.” Odysseus informed you with a bright smile, making his way to your kitchen. “I think you'll like it; it's what I always get when I go there.”

“I usually get the chicken parm and some cannolis, but I'm sure what you got me will be good.” You half lied. Oh, you were honest about what you always ordered from North Italia (a place that you and Coryo seemed to both order out from and attend his business dinners at), but not about how you felt about what Odysseus got you. Just the thought of eating something made of squid ink made you cringe.

Like, really? Squid ink? Food made with squid ink… You know that Odysseus is really into his District 4 roots, but isn't squid ink food a bit much.

“Hmmm…” Your boyfriend skeptically hummed.

“I was chopping up some veggies to make a stir fry with, but I guess I'll just put them up in the fridge for another day.” You told your boyfriend, following right behind him.

Upon entering the kitchen, Odysseus stopped dead in his tracks. The takeout containers fell out of his hands, due to his shock at seeing a red suit jacket and a large bouquet of red roses on your kitchen island.

Your eyes went wide as you remembered the roses and Coriolanus’ forgotten jacket that are on your kitchen island. Oh no…Odysseus saw them.

“Odysseus?” You tentatively asked, coming up next to him and placing a hand softly on his arm.

He could react one of two ways…

Either lash out on you or cry, but both would come with an accusation.

Pushing your hand off of his arm, Odysseus turned to you only to incredulously exclaim, “We've been together for over a week and you're already cheating on me!” Shaking his head, causing his bronze waves to rustle around his shoulders, he rhetorically asked, “What the hell's wrong with you, honey? I thought you were a nice girl.”

“I am a nice girl, Odysseus.” You told your boyfriend, only to quickly deny the cheating (that you finished doing not that long ago) with, “I didn't cheat. An old friend from my Academy days came over. He's a gentleman; has a thing for bringing roses, and forgot his jacket when he left.”

“You expect me to believe that, Y/N?” Odysseus bitterly scoffed. “Please, don't lie to me. We both know that you're not an Academy graduate, honey.”

That took you aback. Why would he assume that you weren't an Academy graduate?

“But-” You began, only for your boyfriend to cut you off with, “We both know what kind of people attend the Academy, Y/N. Hell, I attended it because it's for rich people, and sadly, honey, you're not rich.”

You felt a heavy, sad feeling welling up in your chest, but you pushed it down. You didn't want your new boyfriend to see you get upset from his words. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Plus you only felt comfortable enough with one man to let yourself show emotions around them. Or at least you did, before everything went down the previous month…

Trying and failing not to let your boyfriend's words get under your skin, you retorted with, “I know I'm not rich, Odysseus. I never said I was, but I was raised around rich kids despite growing up not having a pot to piss in.”

“Look, you don't need to impress me by trying to fluff up your background with Academy cred. I’m not into the social hierarchy of the Capitol, unlike my father.” Odysseus told you, clicking his tongue in a slight reprimanding manner. Crossing his arms over his firm chest, he revealed, “I like you, honey, but the fact that I can't trust you now cause of-” Waving his hand towards the red jacket and roses on the island. Refolding his arm over his chest, your boyfriend sighed, “I think we need to take a break for a few days, so I can clear my head and see how I feel about us.”

Of course, he wanted to take a break. You don't blame him one bit for that. If the roles were reversed, you'd probably want a break too.

“I think that maybe you should take a few personal self-help mental health days. Uh, 3 of them should be good.”

“What? Odysseus-”, You began, feeling that 3 personal self-help mental health days was uncalled for just because the two of you got into a fight and decided to take a small break, but Odysseus cut you off dramatically with, “I suspect you of cheating and you need to think about what you did. Plus, honey, we don't need tension in the company, you do work in the marketing department of the Odair Luxury Cruises.”

“You can't expect me to stay home because we're having a misunderstanding, Odysseus. Hell, we don't even work on the same floor.”

“I don't need any company drama, Y/N, and we're not having a misunderstanding. I caught you cheating, honey, and now I have to decide if I want to give you another chance or not; I don't need to be seeing you around my Pop's company while trying to figure out what to do with you.” Odysseus told you before exiting your apartment; leaving you alone in your kitchen entrance to stew in your thoughts.

You’re alone in the elevator, holding the large bouquet of red roses in your hand; red jacket draped over the crook of your arm, furiously rubbing away the tears that are trickling down your cheeks. Your eyes were starting to blur as you saw the floor numbers begin to reach double digits.

You had to quickly dry your eyes. You couldn't let that platinum haired ex of yours see you crying.

No.

You just wanted to give him back his jacket and roses; thank him for fucking up your new relationship too.

Suddenly, the elevator reached its destination and came to a stop. The doors opened with a loud ding, causing you to step out and into the foyer. You didn't even bother to take in the foyer’s modern decor, just made a beeline towards the penthouse door. The sooner you give Coriolanus his stuff back, the sooner you can go back to your apartment and wallow in your misery. Think of something to say when you call up your boss in the morning to take a few impromptu self-help healing days.

Coming to a stop in front of the ornate door, you scrubbed your eyes dry for a final time and let out a sigh. Balling your hand into a fist, you knocked- quickly to signal that you didn't want to wait in the foyer too long.

It felt like hours as you waited for Coriolanus to answer the door, but in reality it was only minutes.

And when you saw him leaning in the doorway, eyes taking in your upset form, you didn't hesitate to throw his forgotten jacket and roses at him while shouting at him to take his stuff back and to stay the fuck out of your life.

When Coriolanus heard the knock on his door, he was on his sofa watching the P-PANEM (Political-PANEM) channel on TV to see how he was doing since announcing his Senate run. And, sadly, he was ranked at the bottom, which pisses him off. So, your knock was actually a nice distraction from the bullshit he was listening to about himself.

And he knew it was you too. How did he know? Eh, call it lover's intuition.

It only took Coriolanus a few minutes to reach his front door and answer it.

But when he saw your red puffy eyes paired with the roses and his red jacket in your clutches, he knew that his plan worked. He just wasn't expecting it to be so soon. Wow, seems like Odair just had to see you tonight. He was expecting the big cheating breakup fight to happen in the morning or tomorrow night. But it happening so soon worked in his favor.

“Take your roses and jacket back.” You told the tall, sinewy man in front of you while throwing the stuff at him. The jacket and roses flew over his shoulder, landing on the marble floor with a loud thud. “And stay out of my fucking life, you damn bastard.”

Coriolanus figured you'd be upset about a breakup with Odysseus l, but he wasn't expecting you to order him to stay out of your life. Okay, now he wants to know what Odair said to you. What happened to make you start calling him a bastard with a hateful tone of voice.

“Baby, what happened?” The platinum blonde asked, placing his hands on your shoulders in a show of concern and sympathy.

“My boyfriend, Odysseus, came over to bring me some squid ink tonnarelli and tiramisu from his dinner meeting at North Italia, but he saw your jacket and the roses you left in my kitchen and now my life's ruined.”

“God, I hope you didn't eat the squid ink shit? That sounds like a case of botulism just ready to happen.” Coriolanus dryly jokes. On a serious note, he did think that the food sounded disgusting- but to each their own.

But hearing you say that your life's ruined did concern him. A simple breakup doesn't ruin somebody's life. So, he was getting the feeling that more than a breakup occurred.

“How is your life ruined now, Y/N?” The blonde asked, needing to know how bad he needed to punish Odysseus for making you cry; ‘ruining your life’.

“Odysseus wants to take a break for a few days and told me that since I work in the marketing department for his father's company that I have to- well he ordered me to- take a few days off for personal self-help mental health days; that Odair Luxury Cruises doesn't need any issues due to me cheating on him.”

“What? He told you that?” Coriolanus asked, not believing the bullshit manwhore Odair was pulling on you. You two didn't even work on the same department, with you being in marketing and him on the top floor playing VP.

“Yes, he did.” You confirmed with a nod.

You're a hard worker and great at your job. Coriolanus was awed that Odysseus was putting your career in jeopardy over his bruised ego. Fuck, even Coriolanus wouldn't do that. In fact, he'd do the opposite. He'd be up your ass at work, trying to work things out.

Then, the aspiring politician had a wonderful idea. Yes, yes, it was perfect. He'd surely win you back with his sudden spur of the moment idea.

“Come in, we need to talk.” Coriolanus told you, grabbing your hand in his and leading you inside of his lavish and modernly designed penthouse.

“There's nothing for us to talk about, Coriolanus.” You objected, trying to pull your hand out of Coriolanus'.

Your ex just tightened his hold on your hand while closing the door behind you. “Yes, baby, we have something very important to talk about.” You just rolled your eyes at him, prompting him to say, “You're fearful about your job, so let's talk about a new career opportunity that’ll make you 92 thousand a year.”

“And what would that be, your personal mistress?” You sarcastically scoffed.

“No.” Coriolanus shook his head, leading you around the items you threw on his floor (the maid’ll get it in the morning). “You'd be my campaign manager; my public affairs advisor.”

“What?” You asked, feeling as if the air was knocked out of you, while entering the large living room with Coriolanus.

“Well, you'd be working with me at the Citadel as my assistant, but I'd have you running my Senate campaign and PR.” He told explained, leading you over to the large white leather sofa.

“Part of your PR would be me promoting your engagement and wedding to Livia, Coriolanus. I don't know if I can do that.” You honestly told him while sitting down on the sofa.

Coriolanus sat down next to you, only to cup your chin and say in a manipulative and soft baritone, “It's a money match. And arranged between Strabo Plinth and The Cardews, nothing more. You can do PR on it because, my darling rose, I hate Livia and she hates me right back.” Tenderly stroking your jaw, he went on to assure you, “I have no feelings for her, whatsoever. But it's you that I feel rather fond of.”

Hmm…so he feels rather fond of you. Nice to know that you're on the same level as an old stuffed animal or a memory. Things that people are fond of are usually things that get forgotten or tossed to the side.

Of course, you're easily expendable. You're something that's perfect to be fond of.

You loved (you still love him, but refuse to admit it since you're moving on from him) Coriolanus, but he's just fond of you. Just your shitty luck, huh?

But, despite how you feel, the yearly salary that Coriolanus promised you was more than enough to rent your apartment and to give you a life that your mother and brother always dreamed of for you. A life where you're able to be successful. And perhaps you'll be able to find love again while attending various social events that are only exclusive to high Capitolite society.

“Fine, I'll do it. I'll take you up on your job offer.” You told him, hoping that you wouldn't regret saying yes.

“Wonderful, darling.” Coriolanus smiled widely, pearly whites on full display. He thought that he'd gotten you right where he wanted you, but he has no idea that you're just using the new career move to secure a future in Panem.

A future without him. One where you can rely on yourself and show everyone that you're perfectly capable of being successful in the dog eat dog world of Capitol City, Panem.

Plus, there won't be any work drama at the Odair company if/when you and Odysseus decide to work things out and get back together.

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