#it’s a shame we didn’t get THAT much more of that feeling
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★̶̲ [ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞? ]
✎ : sub kaveh x dom gn reader notes: handjob(Kaveh receiving), dacryphilia, dirty talk, begging, wholesome at the end so porn with plot, reader being a simp because this is very much a self insert.
author talks: WE ARE SO BACK YALL (gang signs 🤟). It took me so long to get back into my writing space again and am happy am back.
lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ favorite - isabel larosa
Kaveh was seated in front of you, dressed in the costume of a veiled dancer of the medieval century. And coincidentally so, the costume was similar to a fanart you had seen a few weeks before of the character Link from the game, Legend of Zelda. Who is currently your new obsession.
He didn’t need much help with the costume because his features and hair were an almost exact copy of that blonde twink but what shocked you was the bare torso with only chains of jewellery hanging and they added a shimmering sheen. It was like his body was a painted canvas and the gold chains coupled with small studded gems were the sheen to the final art form.
That darning pretty face was covered with a thin red veil and his arms had puffed sleeves which were lonely with no other garment around. The flowing skirt beneath his abdomen were like broad drapes spaced evenly, letting you have a peek at his milky white thighs and red thong.
Thong?!, your eyes widened with complete shock. How did I not notice that!
Upon looking at his shy face for answers, you realized it would be futile with the way he was avoiding your gaze, his eyes almost burning a hole into the carpet. However, mischief was a trait that was quite comfortable under your skin and all the more torturing for your lover.
“Kaveh….”, his body jerked at your voice, ears changing color from nude to red while he sat shyly. “Where did you get that thong?”, his jaw clenched while his hands formed into fists holding tightly at his skirt, feeling the warm shame rise in his body as he now switched his seating position to hide the underwear from you.
He grumbled quiet messes of words but you failed to hear it. The idea that whatever force had made him dress up like this was so enticing to you. You obviously knew he liked to cosplay a few characters here and there and you loved seeing him dress up. But never had you ever witnessed him in such a scandalous costume, that too of video game character he is supposed to ‘hate’.
“Kaveh…I asked you some-"
“UGH! I BOUGHT IT FROM A LINGERIE SITE!”, he shouted, rushing to bury his heating face in his hands, praying that the ground just opens up and swallows him whole and let him at mercy.
The urge to laugh was almost hurting your chest but you had to resist the temptation. In defense, you bit your bottom lip but Kaveh knew better. He sighed dejectedly, “you can laugh…”, as he looked at you.
You shook your head in response, “no no am not laughing I am just curious”. Although partly lying, it was true. The question of why he had done this was eating at you since whenever you suggested him an even mildly spicy outfit, he would straight up shut you out. Hot-headed much. So what caused this change?
“About what?”, he groaned with a frustrated pout on his face, hoping this entire ordeal just ends and he stops sitting like some guilty criminal.
“….. why Link?”, Link was one of your favourite characters but very much despised by your boyfriend. He used to complain about him at every chance he could get and you would just laugh at his pettiness. Playing the game? he would grumble about his character design. See his merch somewhere? Talk shit about the price and quality. And all the times you brought him up during lunch or dinner when the fangirling hit too hard, you could see his eyes almost roll into the back of his head.
In conclusion, he HATED that twink.
Kaveh decided to remain silent and aloof. Pupils darting around the room while his fingers fiddled with each other. It was a question he feared you would ask. He could lie or make up something random but would catch on quick. And the fact that you would probably accept his lie and not push him for the real answer hurt him more because your affection for him reaches heights.
“Honey I-“
“You liked him”, he replied softly.
“Huh?”
“….you liked him alot and I hated it”
You wish you could jump on him and grab that puffed, angry face of his which had the most adorable pout ever and kiss him hard. The kind of kiss that makes him forget his name and a little weak in the knees. The one that make him begging for more like a shameless whore.
A glow sparked on your face as you smiled at him. Directing your fingers at him, you patted your lap in an attempt to make him sit on your lap. Kaveh obliged, which was rather shocking because he usually turned a blind eye to your doting acts. It would either be you running after him to make him comply or his neediness for you overpowering his attitude.
Looks like today was the latter.
He straddled your lap, eyes still avoiding your own yet both bodies radiating the heat of need. “Were you jealous?”, your tone was delicate and sincere which led Kaveh to lose his guard. He slowly nodded his head before looking down at you. The sapphire red eyes of his being all so lovely and that gorgeous face of his beaming a dark red.
“Do you think I link Link more than you?”, you asked while your fingers trailed up and down his spine, sparking little goosebumps on his skin. Kaveh already knew the answer but his own insecurities resulted in the surety of his doubt. He refused to answer.
“Well then, would you be happy if I show my love for you?”, the question was straight and simple, even wholesome, one would say. However, Kaveh’s eyes narrowed with suspicion as if noticing something more sinister was hidden between your words .
“How about I bend you over and fuck you in this costume”, your one hand treaded through his messy hair as the whispers made his tummy churn while the other groped his butt.
“Or better….I’ll raw dog you in front of our mirror-“, so sultry and hot, that was how you sounded right now, “and you can see how we both look like when you take my strap deep inside”. Kaveh pursed his lips in, swallowing whatever saliva was remnant on his mouth because the heat was starting to rush down to his dick and it was suddenly difficult to breathe normally.
The visual imagery of what you would look like, the expressions your face would contort to and the suggestion of what a ruined mess he would look under you got him all dizzy and aching.
Your hand suddenly slipped inside his skirt, grabbing his growing boner which was covered with the red thong. His body jerked upwards, stunned by the touch. “What are you-a-ah?”, a moan escaped from his lips and he was appalled at his own reaction. What the fuck are you doing?
“What? Didn’t you dress up all nice and cute for me?”, you leaned in forward with a grin on your face, lips just a few shaky breaths apart from his. Wrapping your hand around his stiff dick, you slowly rubbed it making sure your eyes never lost the sight of his own. His pale body was now adapting a reddish color, like his entire body had decided to reject his morales and act according to your will.
“I-I don’t kn-“, a strangled moan was heard when you squeezed your palm around his dick.
“Didn't you wear this slutty thong for easy access?”, Kaveh’s inner voice was screeching at him with how you sounded right now, “so that I can pull it to the side and slide myself in for a quickie?”. The implication of your words were making it so difficult for any rationale thoughts inside his head and that too with your soft palm working around his shaft, he suddenly felt all weak.
“Ah look at you, getting all excited just from a few words”, you merely chuckled and his dick twitched in your hand. Kaveh started unconsciously bucking in your palms. “F-fuck fuck…”, he bit down on his lip stifling those whorish noises to which he received a harsh smack on his ass. Eyes widening in surprise as a gasp slipped from his throat.
It stings, he thinks. It stings so why is it that his cock is rock hard? Why is the painful stimulation driving all his blood down to his already burning core? And instead of despising it, why does he want more? He blinked rapidly trying to keep the newly bloomed tears at bay. He is whining like a pathetic slut, he can’t start crying too!
“I want to hear your voice Kaveh”, a stern command from you got to his head and he whimpered and squirmed under your gaze. “Do. Not. Be. A. Brat”, eyes scanning his burning face which so evidently revealed the desperation surging inside him. His hips grinding into your hand, chasing after the addictive feeling while heat started pooling between your legs.
“s’ good…feels good”, his moans sputtered easily as his mind slipped into a subspace. Kaveh stared at your face with adoration and he croaked his begs for a kiss. Oh they look so soft, he thinks wanting to press his lips against your own so bad all the while he ruts into your hand like was so beautifully pitiful.
You pulled him in by the back of his head and his arms wrapped around your neck. He nibbled at your lips hastily just so your tongues could intertwine, resembling an earnest puppy. He was losing himself. Needy whines of your lover, that were poorly muffled by your lips, were filling up the room and god was it intoxicating.
You fastened the pace of your hand on his weeping cock and he sobbed curses. It was adorable the way he trembled in your grasp all the while his throbbing dick sent flutters of zaps down his body. Shit he was close.
“uhn~c-close close mmh”, he was blabbering like a kid, like he didn’t know what ‘sentences’ are and that almost made you kiss him into a puddle again. But no. You wanted to hear him. Hear his words out aloud, no matter how shameless and humiliating they are. You wanted to hear him beg.
“Slow dow-ough s-slow please!”, his nerves were burning. That brain of his had already turned to mush and he had thrown away whatever dignity he had left the moment you decided to jerk him off. Mouth wide open, panting, as tears started to trickle down and he clenched your shirt for dear life. He feared the orgasm would make him pass out.
“Should I stop?”, you teased and that just made him whine. He wanted to cum so bad and if you paused even for a mere second, he would start wailing. Looks like he has really being reduced to a crying slut.
“No! No ungh~!”, he cried out, both your sweaty foreheads rested against another as his gaze fixated on the way his dripping cock was moving in and out of your pretty hands. It was so obscene but fuck did it feel good. The way your hands moved at a brutal rhythm and his head sported a swollen reddish-pink color, it was legit a scene from a porno.
“Cum for me then”, you huffed, feeling the heat spread under your skin, fire dancing on your nerves. And as if waiting for your command, Kaveh dug his nails in your shoulders before sputtering all over your top. The white liquid sticking to your trousers as you continued to massage his high off making his dick throb cutely. Kaveh felt his toes curl and there was a loss of voice in his throat for a few seconds. His hips spasming during the release while his entire body arched into you.
Shaking gasps and trembling moans left his mouth as the aftershocks still waved through his body. He swear he could almost see his vision turn dark before collapsing on you, body immediately going limp. His nose took in the scent of your perfume to which his strained muscles responded by relaxing. Time had seemed to halt and the only sounds that could be heard was Kaveh’s slumbering sighs and the soft caress of your fingers on his back.
“I love you, you do know that right?”, you finally spoke up, trying to soothe any dilemma in his mind even the act you two commited just now but what you received from him was a soft boyish laugh. The same one that made you fall head over heels when you first met him in the bar.
“I know….I just….I was jealous”, he traced shapes on your chest, avoiding your gaze once again because he knew he was blushing and the last thing he wanted to see right now was your smirk. Well he was wrong about it. You had never looked so lovesick with that grin on your face, like an absolute fool whose entirety revolves around their blonde, hot headed, bashful lover.
You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him in close and cuddling and it made his eyes feel heavy. Just before they shut down, he mumbled in a hushed tone, “I love you too”.
And there you sat, still and looking like a bright red tomato as your heart threatened to jump out of your chest.
Shit, you thought, I am so cooked.
#.rizzler#.kaveh#sub kaveh#sub genshin impact#dom reader#dom gn reader#this is a love letter to my baby#♥️♥️♥️♥️
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Kazula cuddles tysm
wrote this out in under, like, 20 minutes and havent reread it but HERE! thank u for getting my brain going anon.
(set in the arranged marriage verse, a good few years along)
“Darling—”
“Five more minutes.”
Katara huffs. Loud enough, she hopes, to rouse her wife from the document that was clearly more important to her than her own wife.
Azula huffs back. Louder, more punctuated (because of course, the blasted woman practiced her sighs, categorised them by inflection and level to convey adequate messages) and taps her caligraphy brush against the table.
“You’ve been working all day.” Katara says, internally denies the whine that carries her words, “And besides, didn’t we both agree to no work in the bedroom?”
Azula flips the parchment, places it neatly in the pile next to her. It was one that had grown in recent days, now obnoxiously tall where it was stacked on the desk.
Her wife murmurs something under her breath. Then, “Would you really have the entire east coast collapse for—” A pause. From the bed, Katara watches her tilt her head (this one was at a forty-five-degree angle – her mocking confusion angle), “cuddles?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.” Azula sighs. “Water Tribe predilection. It’s a shame I never—”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
Azula sighs again. At once, the second document is placed on the pile, and she turns. Golden sharp eyes, hair straying into her face as undone from its top knot. It was domestic, as far as a woman like Azula could ever be.
It’s that sharp, golden softness that trails down Katara’s bare body, lingering, before neatly returning to her eyes.
“Really?” She deadpans.
Katara smirks. “Water Tribe predilection.”
She rolls her eyes. “And subtlety. Fine—” Azula rises to stand. Clad in her dressing gown, wrists and hands bared to show marred, delicate flesh, she crosses the room. “Though you’ll find I lack the energy for any extracurricular activities.”
A laugh escapes her. “Only you would call sex ‘extracurricular activities.’” Katara watches her wife roll her eyes and grins. “My love.”
She grumbles. “To think I put up with you.”
The red silk robe is laid neatly over the chaise lounge. Bared to Katara’s indulgent eye, Azula finally approaches the bed. One sharp eyebrow raises – expectant, awaiting. Requests or demands, she stills in the face of both.
Katara softens. It was a wonder, sometimes, how easily Azula trusted her, how much she’d give to her if only she asked. She often finds a fear buried deep within her throat, to ask too much of Azula and see the woman break herself apart without a thought for it.
Tempering the woman’s love was something she had never thought to do, in the years past. Since then;
“We won’t do anything, love. You’re tired, I know.” Katara cocks her head. “Only curricular activities tonight.”
Azula loosens. Though her tone is still sharp, “Must you?”
“Yes.”
“I should ask for a divorce,” She climbs into the bed.
“You won’t.”
Azula opens her arms, shifting the silken sheets to accommodate her space, “No, I won’t.”
The heat of the woman is like a blanket in of itself. Katara is greedy, she finds, in these moments where Azula surrenders. Still sharp, but oh so soft.
She wriggles into her warm embrace. Often, she wonders if Azula specifically regulated her body heat in these moments. It was never too hot, never too cold, and wrapped into the soft, steelcord of her arms, Katara thinks this is what Heaven would feel like.
Azula rests her chin on the crown of her head, tangling their legs. Pressed to her chest, she feels a delicate breath leave Azula.
“Thank you,” She murmurs. Those were rare, only whispered in the dark – the only time Azula ever relaxed.
Katara noses along her collarbone. Takes a moment to press a kiss to the halberd wound carved there. When she reaches the base of Azula’s throat, she smiles into it. She gets a shiver in response.
“Someone has to look after you.”
“Mmh,” Hands reflexively tighten around Katara. Often, Azula clings so hard it hurts. “What rotten work.”
A kiss to the hollow of her throat. “Never.”
#coughs loudly#i dont even know if this is legible. anyway#azutara#veran writes#atla#anon ask#arranged marriage au#feel freeeee to send me drabble requests if ya want. and ill see if i can do em#no promises tho bc my brain. is full of holes#also no guarantee they are at all good. guh
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new update - 'Thank You for the Venom', chapter 10 🎸 🗡️
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten Summary
Adam loses his patience with Lute when she won't let him take care of her without a fight.
Who is here for some close proximityyyyyyy?! 🙋🏼♀️
All I'm going to say is that the next few chapters are going to be fun. SO much fun. Buckle up, buttercups!
Thanks @branded-rose for beta-ing as always, you wonderful human <3
Neither Adam or Lute said anything on the way to his apartment.
Lute had decided, for fucking once, that she didn’t feel up to talking or backchatting him and instead spent the trek back sulking in his arms, refusing to look at him.
If he was being honest, the silence was more than welcomed. It gave Adam time to think, to form a game plan for the week ahead. His objective? To not fuck his lieutenant while she recovered from her injury. As tempting as it was, he couldn’t risk her reinjuring herself and taking more time off training.
Considering he had a meeting with Sera coming up, he needed Lute to heal up fast, lest he be subjected to a lecture on how he wasn’t taking this seriously enough, why was his lieutenant always getting injured under his watch, blah, blah-fucking-blah.
Though, now that he came to think of it, he was the guy who literally invented sex. Surely he could come up with some creative positions so as to not do further damage to her ankle.
He found himself lost in his thoughts as they approached his front door, trying to think of the most stationary way to bury himself inside her when a familiar, irritating voice quickly brought him back to reality.
“Sir? Sir. Are you even listening to me?”
Adam glanced down at Lute, who was waving a hand in front of his face, looking wildly unimpressed.
“Course I was,” he said defensively, lying through his teeth. He had absolutely no idea what she’d said - and frankly, couldn’t care, considering he’d been thoroughly enjoying the visuals that accompanied his dirty thoughts.
“Then what was I talking about?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he resisted the urge to roll his own in response.
“Uhh… you were complaining about something or other? Hold up - could you reach into my pocket and grab my key for me?”
What a save.
Lute scowled at him, unimpressed. “A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt, you know.”
Adam resisted the urge to drop her on the floor for being a colossal pain in his ass. Injury be damned, she was already getting on his nerves and they hadn’t even walked through the front door yet.
It was going to be a long ass week together, and he wasn’t sure which one of them would kill the other first.
“Fucking hell - fine. Grab the key from my pocket and unlock the front door, so we can hurry the fuck up and get inside, please?”
Smiling smugly, she reached her hand into his pocket, digging around for his key, her fingers roughly hitting the front of his hip and thigh through the fabric of his robe. “Was that so hard, sir?”
“If you keep digging around like that babe, you’ll find something else in there that’s hard.”
“Ugh. You disgust me.” She threw him the flattest look, producing the key from his pocket and unceremoniously shoving it into the keyhole.
When they stepped through the front door, Adam felt the slightest pang of shame at not cleaning up after himself from the night before. Empty wine bottles and takeout containers littered his counter, while there was no way Lute’s keen eye would miss the hot pink bra draped lazily over the back of his armchair.
Layla had forgotten to pick up after herself again.
“Really?” she asked dryly, raising a brow at him as he carried her over to his couch. “I’m surprised you don’t have a lost and found box permanently stationed outside your front door.”
“You know Lute, that’s the most intelligent thing that I think has ever come out of your mouth,” he mused, setting her down carefully so as not to bump her injured leg. “I’ll be right back.”
He grabbed the bra off the back of his chair and wandered into his bedroom, quickly grabbing his phone to text Layla.
Adam: You forgot your bra. Again.
As expected, considering Layla never got off her phone, it vibrated in his hand almost instantly.
Layla: Did your pretty little patient notice?
Adam: Yes.
Layla: She’d look good in it, too. Don’t you think?
Adam: Not helping.
Layla: I know. Good luck.
Snorting, he pocketed his phone again. Layla had picked up on the tension between him and Lute at the bar a couple of months go, before he’d followed her outside. She’d nagged him about it for fucking weeks, until a moment where she quite literally had him by the balls and he relented, admitting that there had been something between them, but nothing more had happened.
He didn’t need the truth spreading around the barracks like wildfire, considering how fucking chatty the girls were. Still, he was thankful that Layla seemed to have kept her mouth shut, even though she nagged him almost daily about Lute.
As he reminded himself to change his sheets later, he drew on the uncomfortable conversation he’d had with Layla the night before in his bed.
~
“Why do you even fucking care?” Adam asked, rolling over to look at her. “I wouldn’t have picked you to be the jealous type.”
“That’s because I’m not,” Layla said simply as she sat up, letting the duvet fall, exposing her ample chest as she inspected a strand of her hair. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy our hookups because they scratch an itch, so to speak, but emotionally you’re kind of a giant walking red flag.”
“Gee, thanks,” he said bitterly. “Way to make a guy feel good about himself.”
“Oh, please, Adam,” she snorted. “That’s not what I’m here for. You want someone to stroke your ego? Get a girlfriend. Or, man up and do something about your little crush on Lute.”
“I’ll give you something you can stroke,” he said in a low voice, reaching over to cup one of her breasts, massaging it softly, choosing to ignore her dig at him as he kneaded it softly.
She glanced at his hand, her expression bored, then shook her head. “Nah. I’m good.” Stretching, she slid out of his bed and began getting dressed.
“Where are you going?”
“Home. I told you - I had an itch, you scratched it. Now I’m done.”She leaned both arms on the bed, staring Adam down with her large golden eyes, her expression unusually firm.
“Stop being such a pussy Adam, and just shoot your shot,” she said sternly. “I have a feeling that you’ll be a happier man for it.”
“I have no fucking idea what you’re on about.”
“That’s your problem then, not mine.”
With that, she sashayed out of his room, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
~
Shoving the memory to the back of his mind, not wanting to think about it any further, Adam threw the bra into his closet before grabbing two pillows off his bed and trudging back out into his living room.
Lute’s thumbs were moving swiftly across her phone screen as she typed furiously, her eyes unmoving. If she noticed Adam come back into the room, she didn’t acknowledge him.
“Who are you texting?”
She startled slightly, glaring at him as he took a seat next to her on the couch. “Vaggie. I’m telling her what I’ll need for the next week.”
“Anything special I should know about?”
Her cheeks flushed and she narrowed her eyes further at him. “No.”
“That’s a lie if I ever fucking heard one. Here - hold this,” he shoved a pillow at her, knocking her phone out of her hands, causing it to bounce away from her and land close to her feet. Grabbing it to pass back to her, he snuck a quick look at her screen.
Vaggie: You sure you’re okay? You could have stayed with me.
Lute: You’d get sick of me.
Vaggie: That’s a lie.
Lute: Plus, he had a point. His place is bigger than our apartments.
Vaggie: I guess. If you need to tap out at any time though, call me. What do you need?
Lute: I’ll be alright. Just the usual stuff. Clothes and toiletries. Also my protein powder and shaker. And a book or two. Third drawer in the kitchen. You know the type.
Vaggie: Unusual hiding spot for a book, but okay.
“Why do you keep your books in the kitchen drawer?” Adam asked, extending his arm so Lute could take her phone. “That’s a fucking weird spot. Most normal people keep theirs on a bookshelf.”
“None of your fucking business,” she snapped, snatching her phone back and locking it. “Next time, don’t read my messages, creep.”
“Oh, calm your tits, it wasn’t like you had anything interesting to say,” he huffed, laying the remaining pillow across the top of his thighs. “Alright, I’m about to take a look at your leg and see how bad the damage is. I’d suggest biting into that pillow while I do it.”
“Why on earth would I need to bite into a pillow?”
Adam sighed and scratched behind his neck, not caring for her attitude. “Because, and I hate to break this to you, babe, but it’s not going to tickle when I take your shoe off. In fact, it’s going to hurt like hell. So, instead of you yelling at the top of your lungs and my neighbours get pissed off that they can hear someone screaming in here again, just bite into the fucking pillow, would you?”
“Do you make screaming loud enough to piss your neighbours off a regular habit?” she asked, cocking a brow at him. He snorted and gently lifted her legs, scooting closer to her so that he could place them on top of the pillow on his lap.
“It’s not me they’re complaining about, babe.”
She shot him a withering look and he snickered, shaking his head. “You are so easy to rile up, Dangertits.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Not gonna happen. Anyway, get ready because I’m about to take your shoe off and it’s gonna hurt.” He started undoing the laces on her trainer, taking care not to knock her foot.
“Somehow, I think I’ll manage,” she muttered, “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal about this. It’s a fucking ankle sprain, but you’re making out like I’ve lost a goddamn limb or something”
He closed his eyes, trying to find the inner strength to deal with her shitty attitude. He wasn’t the most patient man at the best of times, but she was really testing him now.
“Lute,” he ground out through gritted teeth, “shut the fuck up and stop being such a brat.”
She puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms looking away from him. “I am not being a brat.”
“You fucking are. You’re pouting at me again.”
“I am not,” she argued, aiming a swift kick at him with her good leg. He caught it mid-air before it connected with his shoulder, glowering at her.
“If you don’t shut your mouth,” he growled, “I’m going to shut it for you.”
“Oooh, I’m so scared,” she said sardonically, her face twisting into a mock fearful expression. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Don’t push your fucking luck with me.” He leaned over, their chests just touching as he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, her blazing golden eyes meeting the yellow of his mask. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to help you here, not make things worse. Stop running your fucking mouth and start listening to me. That’s an order. Do you fucking understand me, Lieutenant?”
Her lip curled into a snarl. “I didn’t ask you to take care of me, sir.”
“I couldn’t really give a shit what you asked for,” he said coolly, letting go of her face roughly and resuming his original position on the couch. “Shoe’s coming off now, by the way. Get ready - or not, I’m not bothered either way.”
He gripped the heel of her trainer and tugged downwars, trying not to move her actual foot as much as possible. Lute hissed, then let out a cry of pain as he gently wiggled the shoe in order to ease it off her swollen foot.
“That hurts!” she yelled, throwing her head back against the armrest of the couch.
“Bite the goddamn pillow, Lute, or my neighbours will think I’m murdering someone.”
“It’s Heaven, nobody gets murdered here,” she growled.
“Well, it’s either that or they’ll think you’re an animal and into some kinky shit, so if you want them to keep thinking that, go ahead and be my guest. I don’t care.”
He was relieved to see her finally press the pillow into her face, her scream muffled as he finally managed to get her shoe and sock off.
Adam had seen his fair share of soft tissue injuries during his time as Commander of the Exorcist army - severe bruising, strains and sprains were commonplace, especially during training sessions. In fact, they probably made up at least half of the incident reports he had to fill out. But, in classic Lute fashion, she had managed to spectacularly outdo everybody else, sporting the most brilliant ankle sprain he had ever seen.
Her skin was no longer pale, instead now heavily bruised with patches of vibrant oranges and yellows that spread from the tips of her toes right up to past the hem of her leggings, concentrated mostly around her ankle - which had turned a particularly nasty shade of vermillion. The afflicted area had also swelled to twice its normal size, looking unnatural next to her muscular right leg.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, gently running his fingers over her swollen skin. “Not sure if I should congratulate you on doing such a great job, or be pissed that you’re going to be out of action for a while.”
When she didn’t respond, he glanced up at her and was surprised to find that tears had formed in the corners of her eyes.
“It’s not that bad,” he backtracked, feeling uncomfortable at her sudden shift in demeanour. Shit, he was hopeless when it came to women crying in front of him, he never had any idea what to do, and no matter what he said, he tended to just make it worse. “A week off work, at the most.”
She looked away, and he pretended not to notice as she quickly wiped her eyes. Not that she deserved it for being such a pain in the ass earlier. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit sorry for her. Her misery almost made her seem normal.
“I don’t want to take a week off work,” she said thickly. “We’ve got too much to do. And - and you have a meeting with Sera and -”
Adam cut her off, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about my meeting with Sare-bear, she doesn’t have to know everything that goes on at training. But, Lute, just listen,” he let one of his hands come to rest on her knee in a comforting gesture.
“You need to swallow your fucking pride and do as I say, alright? I swear I’m not trying to be a dick, I’m trying to help you get back to normal as soon as possible. Believe it or not, you’re not invincible, but if you just rest, you’ll heal quicker. Okay? So, just…fucking chill.”
He gave her knee a reassuring pat, and as she looked up at him through her damp lashes, he felt oddly compelled to comfort her further. He wasn’t entirely sure where the feeling came from, or what it meant exactly, but all he knew was that he needed to show her that he cared. So he lifted the hand that was resting on her leg and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it gently, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles.
He found himself studying how small her hands were, how if he held their hands up together, the tips of her fingers would barely reach past his palms. How could such tiny hands be responsible for spilling so much Sinner blood, year after year?
Lute cast her eyes downwards into her lap and nodded, resigned. “Okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible.
Adam breathed a sigh of relief and let his head fall backwards. “Finally, she listens to me,” he muttered to his ceiling. “It’s only taken God knows how fucking long.”
He managed to catch the pillow just before it hit him in the face.
***
Lute was on the verge of falling asleep when Vaggie turned up at Adam’s apartment, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and a scowl plastered on her face as he greeted her with an obnoxiously loud, “‘Sup, Vagasaurous!”
She couldn’t hear most of their conversation from her position on the couch due to the fact that they were speaking in hushed voices, but she was positive she heard Vaggie stage-whisper, “What do you mean she hasn’t had any fucking painkillers?” at one point.
If they spoke much after that, she had no recollection of it as she let her eyes rest, drifting off to sleep.
When she woke, she was surprised to feel something soft covering her bare shoulders. Opening her eyes, she found a blanket over her, considerately tucked neatly under her body. Vaggie must have come in and made sure she was warm, knowing Adam wouldn’t have the care factor to do so.
Sitting up, Lute hissed, grimacing as pain seared through her ankle, which was resting gently atop one of the pillows Adam had brought out from his bedroom. Another considerate gesture from Vaggie.
She really was such a good friend.
“Bout time you woke up.”
Her eyes darted around, finding Adam sitting at his counter flicking through something on his phone.
“How long was I asleep for?” she asked, drawing the blanket up under her chin. She didn’t love the idea of him being around her, awake, while she slept. What if she did something embarrassing, like snored, or drooled… or worse, talked in her sleep?
Given some of the… intense dreams she’d had over the past few months that may or may not have involved her boss, she reall, really hoped she didn’t sleeptalk.
Adam looked up from his phone as he set it on his counter, which was now rid of the rubbish that had been strewn across it when they first arrived at the apartment. At least he’d taken the liberty of cleaning up while she slept. “A couple hours? You were pretty out of it.”
“Really?”
“Oh, fuck yeah. Also, you have the funniest little snore. It’d almost be cute if it wasn’t coming from you.”
“I do not snore!” Lute cried indignantly, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Babe. You snored. Besides, how would you know if you do or don’t? Anybody ever told you that you have?”
“No,” she admitted, deliberately choosing not to elaborate further - he didn’t need to know it was because she’d never slept next to anybody before. She’d never hear the end of it and besides, it was absolutely none of his business.
“Well, either this was something special you saved just for me, or all the men you’ve ever shared a bed with sleep like the dead.”
“Again, sir, it’s Heaven. Most people here sleep like the dead because they are dead.”
“Fuck, it was nice and peaceful while you were comatose,” Adam muttered under his breath, sliding off his stool, “even if you were snoring.”
Lute watched with mild interest as he opened kitchen cupboards, continuing to mutter to himself. It was odd seeing him in such a domesticated environment - given his status in Heaven as the First Man and how obnoxious he was, she’d expected him to live in a more luxurious, gaudy home. In reality, apart from an overly-large TV, and the fact that the footprint of his apartment was slightly larger than hers, his home wasn’t very impressive at all.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he made his way over to her and sat on the coffee table in front of her, holding a glass of water.
“Your little scissor-sister bestie chewed me out for not giving you these sooner, so hurry up and take them before she turns up at my door again.” He extended his hand, uncurling his fist to reveal two small blue pills. “They should stop the pain while you’re sitting still.”
“I’m not in pain,” Lute said quickly, eyeing the pills, “I’m fine.” She didn’t want him thinking she was weak enough to need medication. That would just be pathetic, especially for something as minor as a sprained ankle.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, did we or did we not just have a conversation about this?” Adam snapped, “take the fucking pills Lute, before I force them down your throat.”
Glaring at him, she snatched the pills from his outstretched hand, but before she could pull away his hand closed tightly over hers. He moved off the coffee table, kneeling in front of her, once again closing space between their bodies.
She glanced down at their hands, and noticed that he must have taken his gloves off while she was asleep, because they were bare. She’d seen him without them before, but he was close enough now that she couldn’t help but notice the sprinkling of fine ash-brown hair that crept up the back of his hand.
It was also warm, and strong. If it were anybody else holding her hand, she’d admit to liking how that felt. She kept that thought to herself.
“You,” he started, his voice now low and dangerous, “are really pissing me off now. Cut the bullshit, stop being a stubborn little bitch and let me take fucking care of you, alright?”
“I’m not weak,” she hissed, “I’m not some helpless little girl who needs saving.”
“Nobody said you were. Shut up and take the painkillers, Lute.” He let go of her hand and shook his head in frustration.
Scowling, she shoved the pills in her mouth and swallowed, grimacing at the taste as she struggled to get them down her throat. She held out her hand for the glass of water and Adam handed it to her unceremoniously.
Once she’d managed to chase the pills with the water, she thrust the glass back in his direction.
“Was that so hard?”
She sighed. “Yes actually, it was.”
“It would have been a fuckton easier if you’d just listened to me.”
“Where did you even get painkillers, anyway? It’s not like anybody here needs them.”
He snorted. “You think I’m going to smuggle hard liquor from Hell every year for our post-Extermination Day rager, and not be smart enough to also steal something to help with the hangover the next day?”
“Oh, I feel so honoured you gave me your special hangover pills.”
“So you fucking should be, I only get a few a year.”
She turned her head to gaze at him, still seated on the floor in front of her. He looked as tired as she felt. “Why are you so hellbent on doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“This. Making sure I’m alright. You don’t care about me.”
“Bullshit. I care about all my girls, Lute, and that includes you.” He scooted closer, so his side leaned against the couch, his body facing hers. “You just make my job more difficult because you’ve got more of a tendency to bite back than the others.”
Lute didn’t say anything, instead choosing to adjust the waistband of her leggings, which were starting to dig into her and get uncomfortable. She desperately needed a shower.
“You know what’s going to be difficult?” she groaned, realising another roadblock they’d have to tackle.
“What?”
She grimaced, not wanting to admit it out loud - but what choice did she have?
“Showering.”
Adam blinked at her, confused. “Oh, yeah we can do that. No biggie, I’ll just carry you in, you can do your thing and when you’re ready just call me and I’ll come get you. Easy as fuck.”
“Sir. That’s not going to work. How am I even supposed to stand in the shower, or get in and out?
He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Shit, I didn’t think of that. Unless…”
“I’m not showering with you,” Lute said quickly.
Adam snorted. “Babe, that is not where my mind was going, but now that you mention it, if you can put your big girl panties on and be an adult about this, it would be the easiest solution.”
She glared at him. “No, sir. What was your other plan?”
“I have a bath. It’s probably easier to get you in there.”
She swallowed, unconvinced. “I haven’t had a bath since -”
Adam held a hand up, silencing her. “Since I busted into your apartment. Yeah, yeah, I know, spare me the lecture. As far as I see this playing out Dangertits, you’ve got three options. One, take a bath. I help you in, get you settled, then come and get you when the time’s up. Easy. Two, we shower together. Not gonna lie, the thought of it excites me, but you’d have to keep your eyes closed the whole time, because this,” he tugged at the bottom of his hood, “would be coming off.”
“I can keep my eyes closed, I’ve done it before,” she retorted, the words escaping her lips before she had the chance to hold them in. Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth, utterly mortified at her inadvertent admission of wanting to shower with him. Her stomach twisted into a thousand knots as she frantically wondered how the fuck she was going to talk her way out of this.
She wanted to die.
He cocked an eyebrow at her, grinning. “Believe me, I know you can. Let’s just say the last time I asked you to, I was very impressed with how well you can follow instructions when you don’t fucking backchat me.”
Lute sank lower into the couch, pulling the blanket over her head so Adam wouldn’t see how her face and chest were basically glowing fluorescent. So she didn’t have to look at his stupid smug fake face as it smirked at her.
“What’s my third option?” she muttered, her voice strained.
“You don’t bathe at all for the next week. Which is fucking gross.”
She felt him rip the blanket away from her, and she yelped at the sensation of the cool air on her bare skin, goosebumps creeping up her arms. She glared up at Adam, who was now standing over her, blanket tossed to the side.
“Was that necessary?” she asked, folding her arms over her stomach.
He shrugged. “Not really, no, but I need an answer, and I didn’t feel like you were going to give me one, so I had to do something.. What’s it gonna be, babe?”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” she groaned, “I’ll take a bath.”
“Slightly disappointed you didn’t suggest the shower, to be honest.” He bent down and slid one arm under her knees, and the other around her waist, lifting her up off the couch effortlessly. “Come on. Let’s get you clean. Want me to give you a sponge bath while we’re at it?”
Lute turned her head and let it rest against Adam’s chest as he carried her to his bathroom, taking in his scent - woody, aromatic. Slightly peppery, even. Masculine.
Intoxicating.
For all the times he’d been in her personal space, she’d never really paid attention to how he smelt. She was usually too busy being annoyed by his presence.
Or, he had her preoccupied in other ways.
As for his comment about the sponge bath?
Lute felt that sometimes, some questions were best left unanswered.
#guardrock#guitarspear#hazbin hotel#adam x lute#hazbin hotel lute#guitarspear fic#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin lute
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So, somebody sent me a tweet basically telling me how much they hate Shibata's comment about Samoa Joe's flower t-shirt and calling it fat shaming. I didn't see it that way, he was saying that it was not a good shirt on him for a comedy purpose. But I geddit, that sometimes people receive jokes differently and we ought to take that as a valid criticism.
However, this person was in the same breath howling in laughter when MJF did the same thing and worse. They defended it and called it because he's a heel therefore he's ALLOWED to say it. Shibata is a face, therefore he's not allowed to say it.
Sometimes I feel it's not the whole how insensitive the insults are, but who said it. On social media, the amount of Shibata getting the flack is ten times more than the number of white wrestlers (and he doesn't even say anything). This is a trend I've noticed. People are really gung-ho about the way Shibata talks (or lack of it) and the fact that he's not white and doesn't do promo.
I've seen insults against Riho, Mina, Rush, Shibata, Takeshita (MJF calling him Take A Shit), Kommander, Shota, Shida, Stephanie Vaquer, the NJPW and CMLL wrestlers, and many more - all because they aren't white and have some accents.
A recent one was when Rush had to deal with racists who chanted "WHAT" every time he opened his mouth. Now, devil's advocates would say that it's because he's a heel, therefore the audience was trying to provoke him. NO. We all know why.
But then I checked the amount of heat that Shibata gets compared to MJF; lo and behold - Shibata got a lot of heat for a nonchalant comedic comment compared to MJF who spent 10 minutes hurling insults. I feel like if you want to criticize, at least have the same fair amount of criticism as those who spend their years insulting others.
Shibata made a 5-second quip, and everyone was ready to jump him while everyone was behind MJF when he insulted Rush.
It's important to consider that some of the negative reactions to AEW's partnership with CMLL, NJPW, Stardom, and AAA are influenced by microaggression and xenophobia. The way some fans discuss Mexican and Japanese wrestlers, lucha libre, and Indians is concerning.
If people want to call wrestlers out, please do so. Criticize them whenever they do something problematic. However, I see the disproportion of criticism between those talents who are foreigners and those who aren't. It becomes North America vs other countries. The North American talent can't do no wrong while the foreign talent is always wrong. This ain't the attitude era anymore, I kinda hope we are already way past that.
(reminder that many don't hate MJF - I certainly don't. but I think some of us can give constructive criticism, especially regarding this subject).
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The aesthetic in FNAF 4 is unmatched..
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#mike schmidt#michael afton#fnaf 4#fnaf movie#fnaf fanart#five nights at freddy's#Michael showing Mike his hometown 🙏🏾#I LOVEE the aesthetics fnaf 4 had#honestly fnaf 4 had such like ‘haunted small town’ vibes#it’s a shame we didn’t get THAT much more of that feeling#more red skies in fnaf please#What’s funny too like what’s happening in Utah dawg#in the fnaf universe#that it be looking like this
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[ cw: death mention / family death mention / ]
Mhmm I sure love thinking of the reality where we did get more time to really know Karai and her dynamics with the bros. Losing her hit hard in the finale, but it would’ve hit much, much harder had we known Karai longer and really saw her relationships develop with everyone.
I especially would have been interested in her dynamic with Leo, as past iterations often have the two of them clash in ideals and the like while still sharing many characteristics. Two sides of the same coin, and all that. Her specifically being the bros’ Gram-Gram also adds a whole new dynamic as well.
Imagine how interesting it would be, to have Karai start off on Leo’s side for once, showing wholly just how alike the two are at their cores and bonding as family without the worry of betrayal or animosity that other iterations suffer through, only to have Karai die anyway. Their parting hug and the desperate look of horror Leo wears later on would have hit that much harder, I feel.
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the tmnt#rise karai#rise leo#rottmnt karai#rottmnt leo#I think a lot about these two in particular#and how that dynamic could have flourished#the way it was depicted in the finale is so purposefully unique and painful like#that hug man#can you imagine how much more heartbreaking that would have been if we knew her longer#not that it wasn’t already sad but we just simply didn’t know her long enough to be completely attached#also imo having more episodes with her and in general would have presented something I’ve been thinking about since the finale#so like - I like to think each bro kinda immediately leans more toward certain family members#Mikey has Draxum#Donnie has April#Raph has Splinter because this is another one that would be SO GOOD and make the finale moment where Raph sees his memories hit harder#if they had an ep or two more of Splinter and Raph together bc I really do feel like Raph respects Splinter most of the four#and finally- Leo has Karai#and then he loses her#imo? this would align with the movie even more#because it was the act of heroism that kinda killed her in a way - makes sense that Leo would initially be leaning away from that#and yet he ends up exactly like her anyway#haha sorry for rambling I just really love the interesting dynamic these two tend to have#and it’s a shame we didn’t get to see it really explored in rise#but yeah make no mistake while I’m focusing on Leo here I wanted more for all the boys and karai#Mikey’s little moments with her were so sweet and we already know how much he yearns for more family#Karai being from an age long gone would mean she’d be super impressed by literally any invention Donnie has (adult validation!!)#and could you imagine her training with Raph - with this training being referenced in the finale?
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i think nmcu frank should’ve guilt tripped nelson and murdock (*coughs* matt) a little more about his methods of justice. like in the comics he tried to testify in court but the cops were owned. i think if this was true in s2 and he did this it would’ve added a little more spice.
#i think it would’ve made matt a little more insane#i think that conversation would’ve been so interesting and juicy#what do u guys think matt would’ve said/done#i know they got reyes and elektra beat up that one guy#the coroner#but it feels like they didn’t focus enough on how fucked up and organized that is#like frank could’ve been anyone if he wasn’t directly tied to schoonover#also it’s a shame we didn’t get more interactions with them#i still feel like they tried to fit too much into one season with elektra#i wish they would’ve each gotten their own seasons tbh#and i’m honestly upset elektra didn’t meet frank i think their interactions would’ve been amazing#anyway#daredevil#matt murdock#frank castle#the punisher#bun.txt
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.
#well#ofmd finale huh#I've got little to say except#well that kind of sucked#it's a fucking shame#so many wonderful ideas went into it#but they needed so much more time#nothing was set up. no flow. things just randomly followed after one another. stuff got wrapped up that didn't need wrapping#why did Izzy die? BEFORE experiencing a queer wedding at that? what the actual fuck#his death didn't accomplish anything except rob him of the brand new happiness he found#would've been alright if it had been coming in any way (like there were ways him dying could have had a better payoff)#this didn’t feel a lot like any of the show before this. because usually the show is quite good#well we won't have to worry about a third season now I guess#I hate capitalism#get out of art. get out of stories. it just sucks#ofmd spoilers
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My best friend growing up was a matter of convenience over compatibility. The boy across the street was only a year older than me. We had some common interests but our personality types were a terrible clash. I remember fighting with him just as vividly as any peaceful activity.
We were stuck in the same boat though. There was no other kids to socialize with except our odious older brothers, and being together was slightly less wretched than being alone. Most of the time. Our parents joked that we were like an old married couple, always fighting. We’re both gay now.
His family was better off so he brought more toys and video games to the friendship table. My family had more land so we had animals to play with and secret forest clubhouses. We hung out most days but he refused to acknowledge me at school for the sin of being both a year younger and a girl.
He was a terribly sore loser though. When playing fighting games he’d win four out of five rounds but if I won the fifth he’d turn the console off before letting my character do a victory dance. I was fairly prosaic about this. He liked to play them and I went along. When I won I got to suggest other activities.
Now, I mentioned we both had older brothers. His older brother was only three years above him. They scuffled in a normal sibling manner but the older brother was cognizant that he was bigger and stronger and these fights were more what I would characterize as fencing. There was rules and treaties in place.
My older brother was five years older than me. When we fought it was a no holds barred pit fight. I went absolutely feral. Significantly younger and weaker I unleashed my greatest weapon which was absolute berserker tactics. I bit, scratched, went for the balls, I was a menace. I paid no heed to any injury done to me if it let me land another strike. Most of our fights ended in a stalemate of me pinned or him bleeding too profusely to continue harassing me.
I never considered that I was getting more fighting experience than my friend. When scuffles broke out between us without a controller in hand I won every time. He’d jokingly smack me and we’d go down in a ball of flying hair and monkey screeches, but I always ended on top.
The trouble was, I found, that afterward he was no fun at all. His fragile childhood masculinity couldn’t take these defeats from someone younger and more female than him and he’d always sulk home afterward. I didn’t care for that, especially because fighting him was much more fun than my horrible brother.
Then one day I found the secret. I’d whapped him far too hard upside the head and he began to cry immediately. Full of guilt I whimpered that he’d really hurt my knee. He stopped crying. He hurt my knee? Then we were even! He’d hurt me just as badly and therefore the fight was a draw.
I was delighted by this logic. Every fight thereafter I saw no shame in playing up some injury he’d dealt me retroactively. I had no pride to lose and shamelessly acted beaten to avoid hurting his feelings. Our fights were milder as a result, and we both went away feeling elated by the childhood violence rather than defeated.
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𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏
Sukuna
Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader
Summary: Your deity calls you to his presence to worship him.
Warnings: MDNI, Smut, two-dick sukuna, bit of a size kink, spitting, oral sex (m. receiving), handjob, biting, gagging, vaginal sex, squirting, creampie
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
“My lord.” You get on your knees, bowing your head in the presence of the deity. You were called to his presence, and you feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest while you’re in his presence. It feels as if his eyes burn into your skin when his gaze falls on you.
There’s a smirk on his face as he looks down arrogantly at you. Arrogance has always been a trait that you’ve looked down upon men, but Sukuna does not fit in with men. He’s anything but a man. He’s a God, a being worthy of praise and worship.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” His deep voice makes your breath catch up in your chest. You hear the amusement in his voice, which brings out a worry from deep within you. You’ve caught glimpses of the deity, a swift motion from him could snap you in half. “Rise.”
You get off your knees, keeping your head lowered. You respect him– You fear him. You were always taught that you couldn’t respect someone without fearing them first, and Sukuna has your utmost respect. You’ve heard the horror stories about him, the fear that he’s caused. The fear that he still causes today; it’s the reason why you stand before him, out of fear and… oddly enough, admiration.
“Lift up your head.” He says, and while you’re confused, you don’t hesitate in doing so. Not following his orders in a manner of seconds could result in much worse. Your eyes slightly widen at the clear sight of him, he’s everything you’ve imagined and more. He’s smirking at you, and you wonder why he suddenly shows interest in you. “Tell me your story.”
“My lord, it’s nothing interesting.” You answer, and your face grows hot as you bite your tongue. You know immediately that’s the wrong answer, yet you can’t bring yourself to immediately apologize. The smirk fades away as a frown overtakes his face.
“I didn’t ask. I gave you an order and you must follow it. Do you not know the rules of this place?” He doesn’t raise his voice like you’ve heard before.
Sukuna has seen you around, and it’s fair to say that he’s taken a liking to you. You look so soft and so sweet standing to the other servants he keeps around, but it’s not just that… It’s something else about you. He can’t quite put his finger on it.
“I apologize, my lord.” You bow down your head, and when you lift it up, a sigh leaves your lips. He grows impatient, but he knows you’re about to speak, therefore he gives you a couple of seconds to speak. “You wreaked havoc in my old village”
“Out of fear? Is that it?” He sounds disappointed with the answer. He expected more… Yet when he looks at you, there’s this certain spark in your eye, making him lay his head on his fist as a smirk overtakes his face again. That’s not all.
“Not just that, lord. But admiration.” You confess. Admiration… It’s odd to come from you. As pretty as a flower, yet you admire a monster– Though he prefers the word God. “I was married to this man and well… You took care of that problem.”
“Forced marriage?” He questions and you shake your head. It’ll sound like a sob story which makes you hesitant to speak up, but you know you can’t shake your head and not give more details.
“We were in love, until we got married and he decided that he didn’t like me all that much.” You share, and he grows even more interested. “He had several problems between women and drinking, bringing shame upon my name. But then you came along, my lord.”
“Come here.” He orders, and you walk over to him. Once in front of him, your heart races even faster. Your legs feel weak, and you feel like you might pass out right in front of him. He’s even bigger than you imagined. His top right hand grabs your neck, and you almost cry out of fear, but unexpectedly, the hand goes under your chin, and tilts your head up. “Did you bear children?”
“I was unable to fulfill that task, my lord.” You tell him, too ashamed to admit that it’s the reason why your late husband lost all interest in you. That’s all he needs to know, that was the root of your problem. One swift look at you, and he knows you’re not the reason of it, but rather your late husband’s fruitless seed.
“Aren’t you a wicked woman? Worshiping the monster that killed your husband.” He fights back on smiling. He likes that. He finds some sick and twisted pleasure from it. Truthfully, it’s not the worst thing that Sukuna has smiled about. Maybe it’s the worst thing that has made him aroused though.
“I don’t view you as a monster, my lord.” You respond, and he cocks his eyebrow. “You’re a God. No monster could ever compare to you.”
“Hmm… You’re right.” A guttural laugh comes from him. You begin to feel proud at the fact that you’ve made him laugh. He begins to like you more and more by the second.
He licks his lips, looking you up and down. There was a reason he saved you and took you in as a servant. He called you in for a reason, he was going to fuck you even if he found you boring, but luckily for him, you’re even better than what he imagined. He orders, “Worship me like a God then.”
“I’ll do anything you need me to do, my lord.” You respond, and you watch him undo his robes. You expected this the moment you were called by Uraume to show up before him. Either this, or your demise. You’ve heard rumors that Sukuna has taken many lovers– Partners is the most appropriate word, either way, you didn’t expect him to lay his eyes on you.
“Do what you must.” He tells you, your eyes landing on the two dicks that stack up on each other. You shouldn’t be shocked, but your eyes can’t help but linger on it. You’re curious, yet excited.
You’re not sure how to proceed at first so you do what you’ve usually done. You spit in your hand before your lips meet his, and Sukuna is taken back by it. Do you not know where your mouth is supposed to go or…? Your tongue moves past his lips and enters his mouth, pressing against his while your hand wraps around his top cock.
Your hand begins to stroke his cock while your tongue wanders around his mouth. When you pull away, you get on your knees to put his bottom dick in your mouth. Your tongue circles around the tip, getting his precum on your tongue. You look up at the man, the expressions on his face telling you that he’s particularly sensitive. You kiss the tip of his cock before taking in as much as you can in your mouth.
Sukuna grabs the hand that strokes his cock, and guides it, setting a pace that’s more pleasing for him. He notices just how small you are compared to him, and it fucking drives him wild. Your free hand cups his heavy balls before you begin to massage them. He grabs the back of your head, pulling your mouth away from his bottom dick.
“Top one needs attention too, bitch.” He tells you, and you switch. Your mouth wraps around his top dick while you begin to jerk off the bottom one. It’s a bit overwhelming since it’s so much for you, but you’re enjoying the experience.
You’re looking up at him, reading his every expression. He looks at you as if you were inferior, someone that’s barely even worthy of his consideration. It’s because you are– Though you can’t read the fact that Sukuna is fighting back from making any noise.
Sukuna groans as you attempt to take more in your mouth. It’s not all, but it’s enough to bring tears to your eyes from gagging. Sukuna chuckles when he sees the tears that stream down your face as you try your best to bring him the most pleasure you can. What you’re doing is doing wonders, but not for the reason you think. One of his hands goes to the back of your head, and he forces your head to stay. Your eyes look the prettiest when they cry because of him.
“Doing a better job than I expected.” Sukuna says, letting go of your head. You take your mouth off his cock, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his shaft. You begin to jerk both of his cocks off while you lean up to try and kiss him, but his thumb presses down on your bottom lip before telling you, “Open up.”
You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out which allows him to bring his lips together and spit in your mouth. It’s a gift from him to you, one that you gladly accept. He orders you to swallow, and you do so without a problem. You’re a blind follower to his word.
You’re about to focus on his cocks again, but he forces you up. He wants more. Something different. He rips the cloth that covers you to pieces, and before you can even properly process it, Sukuna has you sitting on his lap. You squeeze your thighs together, a sudden shyness taking over you. As quickly as you shut them is as fast as he spreads them apart, “Too late for you to be shy now, woman.”
Two of his long fingers run through your slick folds, gathering your wetness. He isn’t all that surprised that you’re already wet, you’re about to be fucked by your God, of course you’re excited. Your slick goes down to your asshole and he begins to tease it. He wants to bury both of his cocks within you, but he knows that it’ll take a little more adjusting. He isn’t completely ruthless, and sometimes has compassion for things he cares about– Not that he cares about you, but he doesn’t want to hurt you either.
Sukuna’s tongue glides from your shoulder to your neck, his bottom set of arms lifting you up. The tip of his cock runs through your folds, and he bites down on your neck when he pushes his cock inside of you. You loudly moan as he fills you up.
“Is it too much for you? I think you can handle it for your God.” Sukuna says, not giving you a moment to adjust before he begins to bounce you on his cock. He isn’t the type to give out praises, but fuck, you feel so fucking good around him. Almost like a fucking virgin.
Your nails dig into the supple flesh of his arms, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock hits every right spot. You’re meant to be pleasing him, yet he’s making you feel euphoric. He’s so generous with you, you don’t remember the last time someone made you feel this good.
“Oh, fuck– Sukuna!” You yell out, and he doesn’t recall ever giving you permission to use his name. But it’s pretty when it rolls off your tongue so he’ll allow it to happen just this once. Perhaps if it was someone else the situation would be different, but he’ll be generous with you this one time.
Two fingers enter your mouth with the sole purpose of shutting you up. His mouth goes to your ear and he scolds you, “Don’t ever fucking use my name without my fucking permission, stupid bitch.”
He bites down your earlobe gently. He’s too much for you to handle. He moves you with his bottom set of arms, one arm has the hand that gags you, and his final arm goes down, two fingers beginning to play with your clit. You didn’t think that sex with a deity would be so… You’re practically out of the world. You feel as if you’ve ascended to heaven.
Sukuna takes his fingers out of your mouth, moving the hand down to stroke the cock that’s being left out. Being nice comes at a cost to his pleasure, and it’s fair to say that the selfish man doubts he’ll be doing it again.
Your walls begin to tighten around him, your climax quickly approaching. You have never felt so fucking good before, especially not with a man. You know Sukuna can’t be considered a man though.
“Fuck– I’m gonna–” You begin, and before you can even finish your sentence, you squirt all over him. Sukuna can’t help but chuckle, smacking your cunt as you release the liquid all over him. That’s certainly a first for him, although it’s not surprising since in sex he always cares about receiving and never about giving.
You keep holding on to him, your sharp nails nearly digging blood from his skin. He’s grunting, his release near. You feel so fucking good around him, better than he expected. He can’t help but tell you, “Next time, I’m putting both of them in.”
The thought is driving you wild, yet you’re already excited even when he isn’t done with you yet. Sukuna loudly groans when he reaches his climax, cum shooting out both of his cocks. He fills your cunt up, while some of his cum goes to waste in the air. He’ll make sure that he’ll completely stuff you next time though.
Sukuna keeps his cock buried inside of you, catching his unregulated breath. He speaks into your ear, “Look at me, being nice to a little bitch and not completely stuffing her. Next time you’ll have to handle both.”
“I’m sorry, lord.” You respond, and he laughs.
“You did a good job.” He can’t help but compliment you since he hasn’t felt this good in a while, and you’re over the moon with his praise.
“Thank you.” You reply, fighting back the big smile that threatens to come on your face. Sukuna takes his cock out, and he chuckles as he sees that your clothes are shredded to pieces. “I have to–”
“I’ll call a servant for a new robe for you. Nobody can see you naked but me.” He interrupts you. His hand goes under your chin and he tilts your head to look at every side of your face, “Don’t want anyone to look at my wife naked.”
“Huh?” Your eyes widen, caught off guard with his words.
“I’ve decided that you’re going to be my wife.”
#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#jjk sukuna#sukuna smut#jujutsu sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n
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Hi, I saw your posts and I liked them, so I thought I'll make a request, Adam x fem Reader smut, Adam fucks Lucifer's wife so he can get revenge on Lucifer and Lucifer ends up finding out
OOOOOOO spicy spicy. lemme see what i can do >:)
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
revenge is sweet
adam/lucifer’s demon wife f!reader
warnings: 18+ nsfw BE WARNED OOOHOHOOO
nsfw part two with lucifer !!
As you lie in bed you couldn’t help but realize how distant your husband has truly been these last few months.
Never really answering your calls, waking up in the morning with him not laying beside you, hardly ever going on dates or just spending quality time together, and more importantly you’ve haven’t had sex in a hot minute.
It was all just adding up over the course of time and you didn’t want to seem like you weren’t being understanding to his needs since he was the overlord of hell after all and there were many times he was needed to help Charlie with the hotel, but you needed your fair share of attention too.
In which you weren’t getting at all this very moment.
Thrashing around in your bed you start to get fed up with these pointless thoughts making you finally sit up rather annoyed. Not helping the fact that your eyes immediately gravitate to your phone snatching it off the dresser to see if he’s even bothered messaging you, not one peep.
Grumbling you jump out of bed as you stomped your way into your closet to put something sexy on to wear out. Dressing yourself in a short black dress that fit nicely around the waist, fishnets underneath and some boots to match. This was usually something you’d wear before you met Luci, but now was not the time to dwell on old things as you looked at yourself in the mirror watching your pointed tail thrash behind you feeling very pleased with yourself and outfit.
Not shortly after you were out the door and walking down the streets of Hell looking for anything to fuck up or a place to drown your sorrows at the bottom of a bottle with this new found energy in you. Then bingo you finally approach it….a flashy new night club that must’ve just opened about a week ago. Seeming to be a little too close to the outskirts of heaven for your comfort, but you tried to not pay it much mind as the neon lights were calling your name.
Once you walk in the whole place is alive and packed. Music is blaring and dancers are dancing, everyone’s having the time of their lives, but you couldn’t shake this weird feeling as you noticed what looked like angels dressed in revealing clothing taking demons back to the establishments private rooms. This had to be some sick joke you just happened to walk in on that you wanted absolutely no part of.Quickly putting your hood on to conceal some of your identity in hopes to go unnoticed by anyone around since you were the overlords second wife after all and would hate to have something like this get back to him.
Strolling up to the bar you order the strongest drink they got, downing it within seconds before you were given another one and downing that one too, impressing some of the patrons sat beside you who looked they had measly drinks compare to yours. 
You softly chuckle to yourself before looking off at one of the dancers getting money thrown at them lost in thought, that you quickly got snapped out of when the doors of the club were snatched open and as if a large flashlight was shinned inside the dimly lit club revealing all of its nasty secrets, none other than the purest of pure himself, Adam, had strolled in.
“Oh shit…” you grimace knowing damn well if he saw you he’d make your life a living hell as if you weren’t already living in it. As you try to scoot away to a more inconspicuous spot in the club away from the utter chaos commencing and raunchy comments you feel a shameful tug at the end of your tail making your body freeze instantaneously.
“Well well well…why look at what we have here~” his voice having a more sinful touch to it as he started reeling you in closer to him by your tail till your back was pressed against his chest.
“Adam…this isn’t the time or the place…” you hiss trying to pull your tail away that he had rather a firm grip on.
“Ohhh come on my nasty little vixen…you know we have history that runs DEEP…if you know what i mean~” the annoying slickness in his voice was surprisingly making your thighs quiver as he playfully thrusted against your behind after implying the ‘deep’ past you two shared. Your mind was scrabbling with both the booze and his words mixing in making it hard for you to even think straight though the feeling deep in your core was enough to make your emotions quite clear.
“T-that was a long time ago…i-i’m changed now~” Not controlling the stammer in your voice as he tugs down your hood revealing your demon like features as you hurriedly try to pull the hood back up letting Adam get a glimpse of your wedding ring.
He scoffs as a more pissed off look contorted on his face grabbing your hand now roughly taking a look at the big diamond decorating your ring finger. “Don’t tell me you married that fucking loser..”
You flinched as he mentioned him, knowing better than anyone about their long and ongoing rivalry as you just so happened to be one of the main factors of it.
Being one of Adam’s number one girls and then getting the boot not shortly after and to have Lucifer pick up all the pieces was bringing too many feelings back that you just tried to get rid of and now they were knocking down your door once more.
“So, what if i did…it’s not like you ever had the balls” you taunt snatching your hand back.
“Oh honey i have the balls…and the dick…it’s just your choice if you want ether one of them~”
It took everything in your power right then in there not to slap him with that now smug look playing back on his face. “You’re still so insufferable”
“Just the way you like it sweet cheeks~”
“Please don’t call me that” You huff facing away from him and towards the bar once more as you then feel the pressure of his hard-on against your ass.
“C’mon i’m just having a little fun….and i think someone else wants to too~” He mutters huskily amongst your ear so only the two of you could hear as he embarrassingly started rocking his hips against your ass.
You turn hastily as you begin pushing him towards one of the private rooms, getting suspicious looks from club goers as you then slam the door locking it.
“What the fuck was that Adam?!” You shout with your horns growing and tail thrashing rather quickly.
He shrugs trying to act harmless now as if he wasn’t just dry humping you infront all those people.
“It got us alone didn’t it?” a smirk forming on his lips as he walks over to you looking down with a hint of mischief in his eye that always made you melt on the spot like it was doing right now.
Your morals wanting to play a big role so badly in this situation but something inside you didn’t want to stop as he let his fingers tease off your jacket making it fall to the ground with a thud.
Breath hitching as he pulls you closer, lips just a few tantalizing inches apart as he looks down at them and then back at you before whispering, “I’m gonna fuck you like he never could.”
Then his lips were hungrily on you in a messy tongue kiss, mouths clashing together as his hands found their way to your ass giving it a nice squeeze before turning the two of you around and making your way to the bed.
The backs of your knees catching the end of it causing you to fall back with him falling on top of you never breaking the kiss as you start to undo his robe letting your delicate fingers playfully rub against his skin making him shiver before the robe was completely discarded with much haste.
Along with your dress not far after but he kept your fishnets on seeing your panties through them seemed to be doing something for him as he broke the kiss cursing under his breath as he turned you around with your ass poking up.
“Such a fucking slut aren’t you?”
He sends a nice slap against your ass causing a mewl to escape your lips in response as a red hand print started to form along your precious skin.
Not being able to pull his gaze away from the sight as he sent another slap against your ass watching you grip the sheets infront of you as your tail flicked up and against his chest with another mewl coming from you. He chuckled lowly to himself noticing the wet patch starting to form along your panties all by chest spanking your ass like he was.
“You’re such a nasty girl aren’t you, getting spanked by someone who isn’t your husband~” he asks again stroking his own ego though it just turned you on more, he suddenly ripped open your fishnets along with your panties with such sudden strength making you gasp as the coolness of the air hit your exposed wetness.
He gently stroked two digits along your sweet folds smearing the slick along them as it causes you bits of pleasure making your tail wrap around his wrist to keep him going.
Though his fingers went away once you did making you pout as he then suddenly wrapped a hand around your tail raising your ass somewhat in the air as he slapped it with the other once again.
“That’s a bad girl…using your tail to make me go faster~” he tuts watching as you wither underneath him as you were helpless with your tail in his grasp like this.
“m- sorry~” you say softly almost pleadingly with your need so obviously infront of him.
“Atta girl baby…saying sorry to the one who really owns you~” he senses your urgency and he can practically see the drip of your pussy infront of him making his dick twitch in the confines of his boxers.
A low growl comes from him behind you as he continues to keep a strong hold on your tail as the point flicks in his fist and quickly pulls out his dick without wasting time to position himself at your entrance as pushes himself inside you not giving you a moment to adjust as he bottoms out.
Whining uncomfortably at his size as he starts to set a slow and deliberate pace, savoring the sensation of your tight body enveloping him.
“Shhhh you can take it~” he encourages as he leans down capturing one of your horns in his other hand pulling you back to kiss along your neck as he arched your back for you with his hold. The angle was hitting a certain spot inside of you it was making it more pleasurable to the point you were seeing stars as he then increased his pace. His thrusts becoming more possessive and greedy in his attempts to claim you from that bastard.
Your moans were confirming this making his thrusts quicken in pace just to hear every one of those noises come out of you. Making you get closer to your release already, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer ether as he pushed as many out as he could before you were clamping down on him.
A loud cry rippling out of your throat as your body spasmed against him as the ecstasy fueled your veins. “That’s it….cum for me…know who owns this pussy~”
Feeling the intoxicating tightness of your walls milking his cock and the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his own body, Adam couldn’t take it any longer to hold back and with his own loud groan, he releases himself inside you, filling you up nicely with his warmth.
He didn't care if he came inside of you, he wanted him to know exactly who marked his territory here and who rightfully owned you no matter the marital status. 
Adam falls beside you laying on his back with his hands behind his head, quite happy with himself as you crawl up to cuddle against him.
As you lay there for a moment against Adam’s chest catching your breath you hear a foreign noise of buzzing coming from next to you repeatedly.
Looking down at your phone to your surprise to see almost 50+ miss calls and texts from Lucifer.
You curse under your breath as you pick all your things up and hurriedly put your clothes back on. Managing to struggle putting your dress back on almost tripping and falling all the while Adam watches you from the bed with the covers only covering his bottom half as he was laid out like he wanted to be painted like a french girl with a shit-eating grin plastered along his face.
“Awww does the big man want you back already?”
Scuffing as you didn’t really want to hear any more of his smartass mouth you left heading back to you and Lucifer’s home.
——————
Later that night you feel the warmth spread in your cheeks as you did your best to avoid eye contact with your husband as he was pacing in your shared bedroom wondering where the hell you’ve been and babbling on and on about how he’s been worried sick, until you blurted out about your whereabouts.
Immediately regretting it as the words slipped from your mouth.
“HE DID WHAT?!”
Rubbing the back of your arm sheepishly as you stood there watching Lucifer’s eyes turn red as his demon form became more prominent, teeth snarling as he came closer to you. “Well….hehe…we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we my love?” danger laced in his voice as he closed the space between you two.
“oh i’m fucked.”
#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings#☆⋆｡𖦹 adam#☆⋆｡𖦹anon’s#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin imagine#smut#hazbin hotel adam smut#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#adam smut#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer hazbin
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I Want You to Stay (11) | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; mentions of childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, attempted assault; mention of past experience of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts, business/property devt, and book talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; sexual content (making out - I know, finally) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 23.5k
Series Masterlist
Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
A/N: Hiii so this was quite the wait! We have come to the climax of the story and I'm both excited and terrified to share this with you. I have nothing more to say other than see you on the other side! 🤭🤭
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
Whenever Jungkook creates some distance between you and him, you often understand it. It’s his default, you think, and after learning about the pain he harbors from his childhood, you’ve come to accept it. You expect it, even.
Recently though, he hasn’t been doing much of it. He often moves closer; sometimes, he lets you do it. Tonight, it’s both - he stands near you, he holds you, and he lets you slowly close the distance until you’re just a breath away. And for a brief moment, you think that he’d eliminate it altogether.
But you’re not in some fantasy world, so when he pulls away, you’re reminded of who you are and who he is and that sliver of hope goes up in flames.
“I—” he mumbles.
“I should go,” you interject, turning away so as not to see any more of the rejection in his eyes. “Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”
You grab your bag then rush outside, exhaling the breath you were holding in and letting the shame fill you up as fast as the elevator reaches the first floor. You want to run to rid yourself of the embarrassment, maybe be irresponsible for once and get drunk just to forget. Maybe when you wake up in the morning, you’ll find out it was all a dream - you didn’t actually want to kiss your boss, you didn’t actually think he’d kiss you back, and he didn’t actually pull away, as if it stung him to touch you, as if it hurt him to try.
But the thought doesn’t last long.
You get on a bus and convince yourself that staying sober tonight is a better option than reporting hungover to work tomorrow. You’ll feel embarrassed either way, but might as well be more professional about it, considering that what you’d almost done - and all the things you thought about - was nothing but that. You settle for just cup noodles for dinner; you don’t deserve anything nicer than that tonight.
Sleep doesn’t come until past one later in the evening. You spend much of your time tossing and turning, trying hard to erase the image of Jungkook so close to you.
But nothing works. All you see are his lips. All you can hear is his breathing. All you can smell is him.
You wake up four hours later, exhausted and incredibly anxious for the day. You want it to be over already, and you half think of calling in sick but you know that’ll be too obvious. It could set off alarm bells to Jungkook and he might call and ask how you are, and that’s something you can’t deal with either. So you power through and nap in the car, not wanting to converse with Mr. Ri because you might tell him everything should he ask the right questions.
Your plan of action is to engage with Jungkook as little as you can, in any way that’s possible. You play around with things in his kitchen and make sure you have your back turned when he exits from his gym. The energy drink and glass of water are on the counter and you sense him lingering before he finally walks to his bedroom. You let some time pass before going to his closet to prepare his accessories for the day, then head back out, cooking his omelet as slowly as you can.
The clearing of his throat lets you know he’s done, and you glance at him before placing the dishes on the table.
This isn’t the routine. You always fix his necktie once he shows up. It’s reflex for you, and you know that’s what he’s come to expect as well.
But you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. It’s basically like re-enacting what happened last night and you can’t promise yourself that you won’t want to kiss him again when he’s that close. You can’t look him in the eyes, you can’t take in his scent, you can’t hear his breathing without remembering how he felt like. You know you can’t have it again, so you won’t even torture yourself even more than you already are.
His tie is slightly off and it disturbs you. He doesn’t move but he doesn’t ask you to fix it.
You sigh to yourself. He’ll live.
You eat quickly and it’s a contrast to him picking on his food. You’re tempted to ask if the dish isn’t to his liking, but you told yourself not to start conversations or engage in anything outside of work matters, and you’ll stick to that for as long as possible.
“___.”
“Mr. Jeon, I’ve prepared your notes for today’s meetings,” you state before he could say anything more. “And I’m meeting with the marketing team about the additional promotional materials you wanted. Is there anything else you wish to add to the ones we talked about?”
“None for now. They can go ahead with my initial request,” he responds, his voice too soft than what you’re used to, but you don’t dare look up and meet his eyes.
You ask a few more questions and he responds accordingly. The silence is deafening and though you miss the playful banter that has become part of your mornings, you know you can’t get into that right now. Somehow, this is when you can’t act like everything’s normal. Your stupid mistake and foolish assumption is where you draw the line. You just hope the day ends quickly enough before you give in.
Both of you head down to the car. Before going inside, you hear Jungkook ask Mr. Ri how he looks and if his tie is fixed, and you internally smack your head for being so petty about this. You didn’t think that something seemingly trivial about your daily routine with him would affect you this much, as if it somehow threw things off-balance just because you were so afraid to be close. You realize now that you would look forward to those few seconds because that was the only time you had a reason to touch him.
But he’s everything you can’t desire and given that you almost crossed a line, you know you’re gonna have to slowly pull back. Not just with regards to your feelings but in everything, as you take a peek of your personal phone and see an email notification about an upcoming book launch from Rkive Publishing. You subscribed to their mailing list right after you met their director, and you’ve been sitting on his email address and the application letter you have yet to submit.
Since that encounter, you’ve been occasionally looking at other job opportunities in different fields. You realize that nothing much excites you. There’s not much you think is worth slaving your way for in this corporate jungle, and that while you’re currently part of that machine, the only thing that got you going these past eight years was the debt you had to pay.
You had your reasons to stay but being at this point when you’re ready to let that go, you’re realizing that there wasn’t much else about the job that got you truly excited. Sure, it was also the people, but they’re why you couldn’t leave. It wasn’t until the planning for the Arts Center that you felt you could truly be invested in a project and have impact on it, too; it just so happens that the man behind it is the reason why you have to step away. You know it’s the only way you could finally choose yourself and pursue what you want. At 31, you owe it to yourself to do that.
Your thoughts are disrupted when the familiar building comes into view, and you exit the car and head to your floor, trailing Jungkook this time instead of walking by his side as what you’ve come to do. You can tell that he notices the distance but you don’t want to address it. Being terrible at any form of confrontation, you don’t really want to acknowledge anything that happened. You’ll deal with him if he brings it up, and for all the times that you screwed up, you wish to the heavens that Jungkook lets this one go.
You head to your desk while he heads to his. You make him his coffee then ask him to sign some documents. You focus on his hands as he flips through the pages, preferring to look at those instead of his face. But it’s those fingers that pressed against you last night, and you shake your head at the memory, even if all you want is to feel them again.
You retrieve the papers, your heart stopping when he doesn’t let them go right away. Your eyes widen and you still don’t look at him, even as you anticipate him to say something.
“___.”
“Mr. Min asked to meet with you after lunch,” you cut him off again before he could say more.
“I know. That email was sent to you and me.”
“Yes, sir. I was just making sure.”
He lets go of the papers now and you bow before quickly heading out. You just know he had his eyebrows scrunched at you. He’s probably trying to make sense of how jittery you seem and though he may know why, you’re not sure if he knows why.
You get through the morning in one piece. You attend your meeting while Jungkook attends his own with his father. You grab a quick lunch with Do-hyun, whose narration of her love life takes up the whole half hour, then you return to your tasks once you finish.
Hyper-focused on the file you’re reviewing, Yoongi’s usually unenthusiastic greeting catches you off guard, causing your lips to miss the hot tea that you’re about to drink. You jerk, spilling all of it on you. You subsequently hit the saucer that’s on the edge of the table; it falls on the floor and breaks.
“Fuck!” You whisper yell, as you feel the drink pool on your skirt.
“Shit, is it burning?” Yoongi asks worriedly.
He immediately rushes to your side and grabs some paper towels from the cabinet, placing them on your lap and on the floor.
“Don’t move so you don’t spread the broken pieces,” he instructs. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m just uncomfortable,” you groan, with your knees awkwardly touching each other and your thighs squeezed to keep the liquid from spreading.
You’re at least in a black skirt but you know the stain will still be visible. That’s the least of your problems though, as Jungkook arrives from his meeting and heads to you with a folder, only to find Yoongi kneeling on the floor next to you. Jungkook’s eyes widen, seemingly scandalized at what this looks like, and they flit from you to his friend, whose calm face quickly turns into one of panic.
“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi explains, raising the soiled paper towels as evidence. He tells you to move back so he can place them over the shards while Jungkook looks on intently. “Are you good? Do you have spare clothes?” Yoongi asks you.
“Uh, ye-yeah,” you manage to say, hating how frozen you seem to be. With the tea having been absorbed, you grab your bag from your cabinet, the one you’ve started to keep and bring with you during trips in case you get stranded again, then throw the towels in the trash bin. “I’ll just go get changed.”
You scurry towards the washroom and leave the men alone, knowing that Yoongi will hold the fort for both of you.
Back inside, Jungkook eyes Yoongi as he calls for maintenance to clean up the mess.
“She spilled her tea and the saucer broke,” Yoongi says again. “She couldn’t move and I just cleaned up.”
“I heard you the first time,” Jungkook states.
“Just making sure, so your mind doesn’t think of whatever it thinks about,” Yoongi shrugs. “But is she okay? She seems a bit out of it.”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook looks away. “Don’t you usually know those things?”
“Well, I assume that since you’ve gotten closer, you would know. Unless it’s about you… Were you mean to her again?”
Yoongi’s unusual scowl is one that Jungkook is secretly terrified of but he acts unaffected, merely shaking his head in response and to dismiss the assumption. He’ll admit that his friend’s statement is quite bittersweet, though. Yes, you and Jungkook have both gotten closer and there hasn’t been an incident in months where you could’ve had a reason to be down because of him.
Unless last night counts, which is something he’s still wrapping his head around.
He thinks back to that moment right by your desk. You were so close. And he was so close to doing something more than just holding onto your waist. He saw you eye his lips and he did the same but the realization of where you both were - in a semi-open space in the office - reminded him of his limits. Sure, it was after-hours and no one would have any reason to be on the floor at that time, but it still felt too exposed and he didn’t want either of you to be put in such a compromising position, even if every part of his body was aching to kiss you.
He wouldn’t have known you were talking about him if it weren’t for the way you held him close and that unfamiliar look of yearning in your eyes. At that moment, he let himself hope that he’s who you wanted, even if he’s also the same man you believed wouldn’t cross his boundaries for you.
Even then, you had been so bold, so honest. He wished he was as brave and as capable to express his desires as you were. He never thought you’d feel anything for him - him, the one who made your life miserable for weeks, the one who treated you unfairly because you made him feel - and want - things he couldn’t understand and control. Your calm and warm nature made him think he wasn’t anyone special. He dismissed whatever part of him that thought otherwise because he couldn’t hope for something he couldn’t have.
But last night, the way you looked at him also made him feel like all he desired was within reach, like you were within his grasp. Your lips were everything he wanted all over him. Your soft breaths were what he wanted to take in. You were all he wanted to taste and touch and hear, and he’d been so, so close to crossing a line that he said he wouldn’t because he was afraid it would push you away and that’s the last thing he wants to do.
He was overwhelmed but he was just as scared, believing that there’s no turning back if something had happened. He almost stepped over the line but pulled back just as quickly, and now it seems that that’s what’s keeping you at a distance. Because as you return to your desk, you merely bow at him then go through the folder of documents he’d given you.
“Yoongi and I will just meet for an hour,” he says. “Please be ready with the Arts Center opening event budget that I’ll go through with Hoseok later.”
“That’s noted, sir.”
Jungkook sighs in disappointment as you don’t spare him a glance. He just wants to see those eyes again, the ones that yearned for him last night, the ones that asked him - almost challenged him - to get closer. But he’d been the coward who let you go, and now he doesn’t know how to turn back from this.
He enters his room then turns around to face Yoongi.
“I feel so much and I don’t know what to do.”
“I know,” his friend hums, feeling relieved that Jungkook can now acknowledge something he’d known for a while now. But Yoongi also knows that it’s not that simple, and while he knows of the possibility that you feel the same, reciprocated feelings don’t always mean happy endings. “Just don’t… just don’t hurt her,” he adds.
“Why do I feel like whatever I do, it’s what I’ll end up doing anyway?”
“She’ll know when you mean it and when you don’t. And you know what helps?”
“What?”
“Letting her know that hurting her isn’t what you want to do. You’ve got a lot to say, Jungkook, I know it,” Yoongi remarks. “Just be brave enough to say them.”
Yoongi’s words linger in Jungkook’s mind for the rest of the day, especially during the times that he peeks through the window to get a glimpse of you. You seem determined not to look his way, as you don’t even attempt to look at his direction all afternoon. There is a lot he’s got to say, he just doesn’t know what they are or how to say them. It’s always been that way when it comes to you - he feels so much, but he's unable to let you know.
Despite your avoidance all day, he feels your absence even more when you leave at 6PM, on the dot, without sparing him a glance. He could run after you and ask to talk. He wouldn’t know how to start that conversation though, but if it would bring you to finally look at him or say his name, then it would be enough.
He just wants to know what last night meant for you. And if it means what he hopes it does, then maybe it isn’t about turning back but moving forward. He knows it will be complicated, but he wants to figure it out with you. He’ll choose the path where he gets to be around you, close to you. Always.
Jungkook pulls out the bottle of whiskey he keeps in his drawer to momentarily drown out these thoughts. For some, liquor gives them courage. For him, he drinks it because he’s afraid to be brave.
As he replays the way you looked at him last night, he wonders to himself what he’s more scared of - never having you close enough, or losing you completely.
The three films you watch in the cinema that Saturday afternoon are a good distraction to all the thoughts in your head. You occasionally do this because watching other people’s lives play out in film gives you something to ponder about. Sometimes, you let it inspire you to live differently. Other times, it allows you a peek into a life much more exciting than the one you have. In some instances, it gives you a sense of relief that yours is uneventful, lacking in drama and intrigue.
At this moment, you’re not quite sure what you want out of it other than to forget. What exactly, you’re not sure. Is it the way you felt when Jungkook held you? Is it the way he seemed to want more and then nothing at all? Or is it the hope you had that you’d found someone you were willing to give a bit of yourself to, only for the glass to shatter because that’s not what you do - you don’t desire for things not meant for you; you don’t open yourself to heartbreak like that.
Jungkook has always made you feel a lot of things. This time is no different. But this time it also means more. You could lose him completely or have something with him that could be beautiful. One would hurt right away and the other could hurt you down the road. You don’t know which one you’re willing to suffer through.
Suddenly you wish you didn’t get to this point at all. You could’ve left when you had the chance. You could’ve let him not mean to you this much.
You continue to wallow in the sadness. You eat dinner at a ramen place before going home and settling in bed with your best friends on video call. You tell them about the past two days and narrate your moments with Jungkook during the team building that you left out when you spoke to them about it. Looking at them through the screen, you see a mix of understanding and frustration on their faces.
“Why are you avoiding him, hun?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and comforting.
“Because I’m so embarrassed,” you groan, burying your face on the pillow. “I was so… shameless. I don’t even know what got into me. He just looked at me and I… lost all sense. Who was I to assume that moment would end well? That he’d reciprocate that honesty?”
“And you think not talking about it will rid you of that embarrassment?” She wonders.
“No. But it’s at least better than facing it,” you frown. “I’m not good with words nor feelings. And I’m sure that neither is he. I’m just trying to be professional now because I obviously wasn’t.”
You leave out your fears about meeting his eyes and hearing what he has to say. Even if he returns whatever you feel, there’s so much burden tied to that and you don’t think you’re ready for it. You don’t think you’re ready for any of this.
“It doesn’t seem sustainable though,” Soomin points out. “You’re together all the time. You’ve created a routine and a dynamic that you’ve gotten so used to. It takes more effort to avoid the whole thing, don’t you think?”
“I guess but… we’re all busy with the Arts Center opening. And I plan on tending my resignation right after,” you explain. “There’s no time to talk about feelings. I’ll just let it die down. It’s stupid to have them in the first place.”
The prolonged silence prompts you to turn towards her. “You don’t agree with me, do you?”
“I just don’t think it’s stupid to be feeling what you’re feeling,” Soomin replies. “You spend so much time together. You’re bound to form some attachment and develop affection for him, regardless of how things started. I mean, through all the late-nights and early mornings and stresses and comfort in between, there’s something only two of you share and understand. That’s not stupid. That’s how connections are formed, hun.”
Attachment. Connection. They terrify you but they’re things that you desire as well. You don’t know how deep they are when it comes to Jungkook and you don’t know if they’re something he feels towards you, too.
“Maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself that it isn’t that serious,” she adds. “Maybe it’s because you know that it is, and you don’t know if it’s worth pursuing, if it’s worth finding out if he returns it and if being with him is something that can happen.”
You look away, knowing the truth in her words. You turn to Jimin, who’s been unusually quiet all evening.
“What do you think Jimin?” You ask him. “I mean, it’s one thing to feel something and another to act on it and risk everything for it, right?”
“There’s always something you risk once you acknowledge what you feel for another person,” he says after pondering about it. “For me, acting on it just depends on two things. Is it good for me, and is it good for them? In your case, it’s something to really think about. You’re you and he’s him. And you know what I mean. You’ve been wanting to walk away from this company for years, ___. You wanna be something outside of it. How does being with your boss help with that?”
Jimin’s words remind you of something else you’ve been yearning for - that search for who you are outside of your work, outside of all the years you spent working for this family that have become a core part of who you are. For people like you who have to work extra hard for the things you have, it becomes natural for your job to define you as a means of survival. It doesn’t give you power nor influence; it just gives you a means to get to the next day and to give back to the one person who sacrificed everything for you.
As the years went by, it became more difficult to pull away. This family trusts you, and your confidence has only ever increased as an employee of this company, but not as a professional. You’ve been wanting to learn who you are without the burdens you carry, without the need to constantly prove yourself to the people who helped make you, and Jungkook ties you to all this. Whether it’s pursuing him or working for him, you’re afraid you’ll never be brave enough to do things on your own.
You weren’t supposed to be this attached. You weren’t supposed to be this invested. You weren’t supposed to want to be wanted back.
But Jungkook made you care. He made you feel. He made you be brave. And he’s now the one you have to pull away from.
“You’re right,” you sigh. “Maybe in a way, I needed this to happen. I needed this… moment to remind me that I have to leave and I can’t let him be another reason for me to stay, not when I feel what I feel, and not when I don’t know if he feels the same way.”
“What if he does, though?” Soomin asks. “And what if he asks you to stay?”
“Thinking about it now, I hope he doesn’t,” you say. “It’d be much easier for me if he just lets me go. I can finally walk away from all this. And I can get over what I feel.”
“Is that what you really want?” Soomin adds.
You nod in response. “At least I know I’ll be happy outside of working for the company. Who knows what having him in my life would bring me?”
The book cafe in Mapo district boasts of an elegant yet comfortable design. It has three levels that consist of a library and working spaces, but it’s on the first floor that you find yourself in, tucked in one of the corner tables at the back with your iced coffee and fruit tart.
You listen in awe as the author reads excerpts from her newly released book, which she narrates with vigor and emotion. She answers questions about her purpose for writing this specific story, the inspiration for the characters, and interesting things like who she’d cast if it were to become a movie and what the playlist would sound like. It’s the first book launch you’ve ever been to, and despite not being an avid reader, you have a feeling that it won’t be your last.
There’s something about the storytelling and the process of creating something that captivates you. There’s not much of that in your world. It’s all numbers and profits. It’s soulless, if you’re being honest. It doesn’t give you time to feel or live in the moment or actually bask in the work that you do. You’re there to support, to assist, and while that used to be something you were proud of, the past year has made you think that it’s truly time to move on from it. It’s made you desensitized to things like joy and hope and love, which prompts you to realize that those are what have been missing. Working on the Arts Center gave you a taste of it. You’ve come to the point where you want to know how those truly feel like, and the job has hindered you from fully finding it out.
All your emotions for Jungkook take a backseat the more you think about what your life could be, especially while you watch Namjoon gather what seems to be his team, as he congratulates them for a successful launch. They’re all in casual clothes, looking relaxed, relieved, and fulfilled as the event comes to a close and several people approach the author and ask her to sign their books. You can imagine the stress leading up to all this, but there’s satisfaction in putting together something this intimate and meaningful.
“You made it,” the man with the soft smile says, the child-like innocence of his face, a contrast to his very masculine build. “I’m glad those newsletters and email invites work.”
“I think they’re the only ones I actually read,” you say, earning you a brighter smile from him. “But honestly though, it helps that a book cafe is something I wouldn’t mind being in on a Sunday morning.”
“Exactly!” Namjoon beams. “It’s easy to make it a part of your weekend. Whether it translates to immediate sales isn’t the whole point, although that’s great, don’t get me wrong. But as long as there’s foot traffic and increased interest, then it’s a success. Our launches have been gaining traction on social media. And the—shit, sorry. I’m rambling again,” he chuckles. “I doubt you came here with the intention of listening to me talk about what we do and stuff.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” you assure him. “I don’t actually go to things like this but I thought it might be a good way to have a feel of what it’s like working for your company without inconveniencing you. I mean, I haven’t applied yet but I just wanted to see if this is something I’d enjoy doing.”
“And?” He asks in anticipation.
“It kind of is,” you admit. “I don’t know. There’s just something so personal about it.”
“There really is,” Namjoon nods.
His face turns serious now, something that happens when he’s about to go on a speech about whatever it is he feels strongly about. He’s expressive and it’s quite captivating, which is refreshing in a colleague, you realize.
Sitting across from you in your little nook in the cafe, he talks about the journey of this whole process, how he reached out to the author who turned out was trying to contact him as well. He was hoping to publish one of her manuscripts that was shared to him by a friend, but she offered this one instead, a very personal story that she trusted his company would do justice.
“I sat the whole team down and told them what this means for her as an author and as a person, and what that in turn could mean to the readers,” he continues. “There’s so much responsibility but the return is worth more than you could imagine. Of course, it’s not always easy. We have a relatively small team for the amount of things that we have to do but it works. Communication is smooth, accountability is shared, and we build our trust and respect in each other that way. I think that makes it even more worth it in the end.”
“You’re really trying to lure me in, aren’t you?” You laugh.
“Pretty much,” he chuckles. “I just think our meetings are serendipitous. There were two people who were supposed to take on the role but they backed out last minute - on both cases, I see you the next day. The universe probably has plans.”
“It probably does,” you nod, slowly believing him. “The only reason why I haven’t applied yet is because this is all so new to me and I may not be what you’re looking for.”
“But it could be that we’re what you’re looking for,” he counters. “Even if the industry is new to you, if it’s a place you’re comfortable in and that you think will help you grow professionally, then you become what we need. It’s give and take, really. Your approach to the work impacts how you do it. Yes, it’s still a job but it also means a lot more.”
“You’re very good at this,” you say, feeling more at ease as you speak with him, a stranger who has no idea what you’re going through but is somehow saying the exact things you need to hear. “I just have a timeline I’m working around. My company has an important thing coming up in several weeks and I don’t want to leave before then. It’s also why I’ve been delaying applying.”
“Hey, if we see that we’re a good fit for each other, then we can work around your timeline,” he says. “To help with that, maybe we can chat more casually to relieve you of the pressure. I have some things to return to the office not far from here and you can tell me a bit about the work that you do. What do you think?”
It’s a suggestion you take up, so you both start walking a few streets down to a mid-rise building, a structure that sits amidst cozy cafes and small parks.
The Rkive Publishing office is spacious. Instead of solo desks, there are large tables so there are more opportunities for collaborations, but there are small meeting rooms and private spaces as well. There are floor-to-ceiling windows, shelves that are lined with hundreds of books, and quirky art pieces that give the place a unique yet personal touch. It’s leagues different from what you’re used to, and as you appreciate the way the sunlight makes the whole place glow, you start to think that Namjoon may be right - this might just be what you’re looking for.
You disclose who you work for then tell him your functions, narrate how a usual day looks like, and mention the types of people you usually engage with. But you share how you’ve felt lost in the chaos of everything and that you’ve been trying to find purpose in it but have been unable to.
Namjoon purses his lips, attempting to hide a smile, but you call him out on it.
“I’m just trying not to get too excited,” he reasons, giving in and chuckling now. “We need organization, a sense of urgency, a kind of professionalism that someone of your caliber could bring. I don’t want to get my hopes up and yes, there’s a process, but I hope you give us a chance.”
It’s easy to think that this man has no idea what he’s saying, but he’s been talking about going with his gut feeling all morning - he’s said as much that following his heart and doing what feels right for him allowed him to turn the company into what it is right now. Maybe meeting the first time was just a coincidence, but the pull of the universe - of you to this environment and him to you - is just too strong that you can’t help but think that maybe this is the next step for you. For all the challenges you went through all these years, maybe you deserve something a little more smooth sailing this time.
You don’t make any promises but you do assure him that you’ll send him an email. There are obviously other pressing matters that you have to deal with but this has been a good distraction, one that you allow to preoccupy you for the rest of the day.
After saying goodbye, you walk around the neighborhood and spend the afternoon by the river where you wonder about the people surrounding you.
What dilemmas are they facing? What heartbreaks are they trying to move on from? What new adventure are they preparing for? Or maybe, who are they trying to forget? Who’s waiting at home for them? Are they watching the sunset because they know it’s beautiful or because they’ve forgotten that it is?
You let out a breath once the sun has dipped and the sky has turned a dark shade of blue. You feel a mix of awe at its beauty and disappointment because the day has come to an end. You once more have to face the person you’ve been trying not to think about all weekend.
Giving yourself a pep talk, you go to bed that night with the plan of continuing what you did last Friday, which is avoiding any moments and any chances of talking about what happened. If Jungkook brings it up, then you’ll just have to face it and ask him to forget about that night and then deal with the consequences after. But there’s no way that you’ll say anything first; you’ll ride this out for as long as you can.
Avoiding talking to Jungkook about non-work matters - which is really what you only intended to do - is much more difficult when you have to pretend you don’t care about him.
That Monday morning, you stop yourself from asking how he’s doing after spotting the empty whiskey bottle and beer cans in his kitchen bin. While you give him the usual hangover remedy, you stop short of suggesting that he get some rest or buying him his favorite lunch dish.
During the meeting that you accompany him to in the afternoon, you watch him helplessly as his father hounds him with questions about the other projects, adding even more pressure than what he’s currently under, and you look away when he tries to meet your eyes. You used to send him encouragement through your gentle nods and soft smiles but you’re scared you’ll fall into your feelings once again if you do them, knowing that any sign of him needing you is all it would take for you to give in and talk to him, maybe comfort him.
You’ve become so weak for him, you realize that now. His detachment used to put you off and frustrate you, but knowing him the way you do, it’s what makes you want to be there for him; it’s what makes you want to assure him that you’re just there.
But you aren’t, because you’re pushing him away. You’re making him go through his confusion and stress and exhaustion all on his own because you’re a coward, too. You’re scared of your own feelings. You’re scared of them being rejected and you’re scared of them being returned. You didn’t realize just how much you are because you never actually felt something this deeply for anyone, and that terrifies you even more.
Watching him from your desk as he pores through documents on his laptop is hard, too. You’re done for the day but he’s said earlier that he’ll be staying late to finish a few things because there are many distractions at his place. You want to tell him they can wait, that he’ll need to rest and regain his energy for the week ahead, or that some fresh air could help clear his mind.
But you don’t. Instead, you pack your things and head out, knowing that much as it’s your decision to force this distance between both of you, it’s still something you wish you didn’t have to do. You don’t know how long you can sustain it, but somehow you know that once he gives in, so will you, and so all this might as well just be useless or even worse for you.
Mr. Ri picks up on the change the next morning, as he asks if you and Jungkook had an argument on the way to his penthouse.
“There was no argument, ” you answer. “There’s just a lot on my mind and he’s a big part of that. I just… I just don't know how to deal with things, you know?”
“Things like what?” Mr. Ri asks.
“Feelings,” you sigh. “I mean, you said they can’t be helped. And you’re right, I can’t. That’s my big problem right now.”
“Oh, ___,” he says, softly smiling through the rear view mirror.
You can tell he’s trying to comfort you, something he’s told you before he’s unsure how to do. You brush him off, saying you’ll figure it out, and he assures you that you could talk to him and that maybe, you need to just let it out to someone who knows what you’re battling against. You express your appreciation then inhale deeply once you arrive at Jungkook’s building.
The clanking sound of plates surprises you when you enter the penthouse. You walk cautiously towards the kitchen and find Jungkook already dressed in his work attire, placing the basket of toasted bread in the middle of the dining table where you spot the two plates with eggs in each. You wonder if you’re late, given that he’d gone ahead and made breakfast for both of you already.
“You’re on time,” he says after seeing you check your watch. “I was just up early. I couldn’t really sleep. I think I have too much on my mind.”
“I still could have made this for you,” you say so softly, Jungkook almost misses it.
“I didn’t mind,” he answers, wanting to say more, like that he thought it would be nice to make something for you for a change, or that he hopes you could see the effort.
But he keeps them to himself, just like the many other things that he doesn’t feel ready to verbalize. He hasn’t stopped thinking about you since Thursday night, and he thinks that the distance you’re creating has made his desire even stronger, but so has the fear.
He spent the weekend downing alcohol and then boxing for hours to get rid of the hangover. The lemon ginger tea he made didn’t really work. He placed the bandage on his beat-up knuckles incorrectly, not like how perfectly you’d done it once. And the chicken noodle soup he ordered when he wasn’t feeling well last night didn’t taste as good as yours.
His mornings aren’t the same without the briefest touch from you from fixing his tie, or from the casual conversations during breakfast or in the car. There’s not much of your voice or your laughter that he hears, and definitely none of your smile that always encouraged him, that always assured him. This continues for the rest of the day, as he barely feels your presence unless he asks for it. And even then, it almost feels like you’re not there at all.
He feels so lost without you, unable to focus and function properly without your guidance and your care. He doesn’t know how or when he’s allowed himself to need you this much but it all feels so new yet familiar. All he wants is to be near you again but he admits that seeing you consistently pull away hurts him more than anything.
It’s why that Wednesday, he settles for only minimal glances at you in the car, why he conducts his morning meeting in a cafe instead, why he has the blinds on in his room all afternoon, and why he stays to work late and informs you that he’ll go straight to the Arts Center the next day so he’ll just meet you in the office.
He does all those so he’s forced to be around you less, so he doesn’t look up from his desk to find out that you don’t look his way anymore, so that it’s less difficult when you don’t do your usual routine with him. He at least won’t feel as bad when you don’t ask how he’s feeling if you don’t see him look terrible in the morning after not being able to sleep, or when you don’t fix his necktie for the fifth time this past week if he’s not around you in the first place.
You’ve been going out of your way to avoid him and if he had a bit more courage, he’d probably be able to ask what Thursday night was about and if you’d really wanted to kiss him like he did.
But he’s afraid of two things - that you’d ask him to forget all of it, or that you’d both have to figure out how to move forward if the feelings are indeed mutual. There are so many things that could go wrong but just as many that could go right - he’s scared to hurt you either way. And like he’s always said, he doesn’t know how to handle all of this; he doesn’t know how to talk about what he feels.
Thursday morning comes and while you’re relieved that you don’t have to tiptoe around Jungkook again in his own apartment and feel suffocated by the tension, you won’t lie and say that you deeply felt his absence. You also won’t deny that seeing him walk towards his office without sparing you a glance hurt you a little. You know him enough that he’s probably giving you the space that you’ve insisted on, but still, a part of you wonders if he’s just accepted it, too.
And when you hand him his notes for his late afternoon meeting then when he leaves for the CEO’s office without a look of acknowledgment, you worry that he’s become impatient, that he’ll keep pulling away for as long as you are, and that you’ll be so far apart that you’ll start to wonder if you’d come close to him at all.
But you did this, you remind yourself. You’d been the one to get close, to expect, and then to detach because you were so afraid of what would happen next, and what that would mean for you. He’s probably the last thread you’re holding onto, connecting you to this world that you’ve been planning on leaving for so long. Maybe you’re also scared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and the last thing you want is for him to be the reason why you can’t let go, and then resent him for it.
You sigh in your seat as the various thoughts plague your mind. You decide to go to the pantry for a cup of tea, knowing you have some time before Jungkook’s meeting with his father is scheduled to end.
The support team’s office is unnervingly quiet at 7PM with only Mr. Ri around, shaking his leg against the chair while browsing on his desktop. He greets you when you enter and then joins you to make his cup of coffee - his fourth for the day, he says - before you both head out the pantry and sit by the meeting table.
There aren’t any words said as you both blow away the steam from your respective hot drinks, merely letting the tranquility of the evening envelop the two of you. A few minutes pass and Mr. Ri finally looks up and asks why you’re still here, to which you reply that you wanted to be around when Jungkook’s meeting finishes in case he needs you to do something.
“There’s no need to drop me home,” you tell him. “I can manage on my own.”
“You know Jungkook won’t like that,” Mr. Ri responds. “He has strict instructions to drive for you whenever you stay out late. I can’t and won’t disobey those orders.”
You know this, which is why you sit in silence with your hands on your lap as if you’re being scolded, and you nod.
“Okay,” you say softly.
“He’s worried, you know?” Mr. Ri says after a while. “He’s been asking me how you’re doing, as if you’re not at the point in your relationship where he can directly talk to you. But I’ve actually been worried about him this past week. He stays up late to work, then goes home to work out. He’s not himself lately, always out of it and just… sad.”
“Did he… did he say anything else? About us, specifically?”
“He didn’t tell me if anything happened but I’m guessing something did, something serious enough that you’d avoid him for days and personal enough that he won’t confront you about it.”
Your face falls, guilt painting it, something Mr. Ri picks up.
“It’s about your feelings, isn’t it?” He asks. “You like him and you can no longer deny it.”
You nod in confirmation, unable to verbalize the words that your heart has been screaming for weeks.
“Is it so hard to admit? Is it so hard to talk about?” The older man asks. “I mean, he doesn’t tell me anything but I’ve known that man his whole life, ___. I’ll bet a lot and say that he feels the same way about you. Why are you both putting all your effort into avoiding each other instead of talking it out?”
“Because you know us, Mr. Ri. We’re the worst at these things,” you shake your head, choosing to disregard his statement that Jungkook may be reciprocating the feelings, knowing you’re not ready to think about it. “And you know this, too. It’s not just about what I feel. It’s about who he is and who I am and what those imply. It’s this complicated situation that I wouldn’t even be in if I just… if I was just strong enough to leave the first time. Or the second time.”
“Hey, you know it wasn’t about that,” he says. “You were always strong. You held on even when things were difficult—”
“Yeah, I just held on and now I’m here, caught in between liking my boss and wanting to stay away from him, from his family,” you groan in frustration.
But you utter the thoughts that you only rarely entertain, only because they’re what held you back all those years ago.
“Am I being selfish, for wanting to leave after everything?” You ask. “They’ve been so good to me. And now that I crossed the line and fell for their son, I want to let everything go.”
“Is that really why you want to resign? Because you like Jungkook?”
“No… it isn’t just about that,” you sigh. “Or it is. A big part of it, but also not. I… you know I’ve been thinking about this since the whole thing with Mrs. Byun happened, and that was six years ago. But then CEO Jeon asked me to help Hoseok and I stayed. And it was even more important for him that I be there for Jungkook. And I am but now what? How can I continue knowing that I like him? And how can I find myself and learn who I am outside of this when I’m here, when this is all I’ve ever known and all I’ve ever given myself to? They’ll always be good to me. I feel selfish by staying, but I also feel that way if I leave.”
“None of that makes you selfish, ___. You always had a reason to leave and you could have, but there was also always gonna be a reason for you to stay,” he says. “But they were their reasons, not yours. Whether you stay despite what you feel for Jungkook or leave to find yourself and seek the happiness you deserve, you’re not being selfish.”
You look at the man whom you’ve known for years and he sees in your eyes a woman who’s just asking for any kind of comfort, of any kind of assurance because no else is around to do that.
“We do what we can at every moment, and we can live with our choices if we know they’re the best one we can make at that time,” he continues. “Whatever it is you decide to do, I hope you do it for you. You’re the only person you have to look out for.”
Right outside the door, Jungkook remains unmoving as he processes everything he’d heard, while you continue to talk inside, completely oblivious to how you’ve rendered him paralyzed.
Jungkook’s meeting with his father ended much sooner than he expected. They merely discussed some happenings with the Board and the lunch that they’ll be hosting on Saturday to welcome some of their family’s long-time friends who are flying in from Europe.
He headed to the support office immediately to tell Mr. Ri that he plans to go home soon but hadn’t known you were there as well. But then again, you and their trusted aide - who’s been his father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and personal assistant for decades - spend a lot of time together, so it didn’t feel off to Jungkook that you’d both be talking. He’s asked the older man to look out for you, too, especially with regards to things that he feels isn’t really his place.
Jungkook didn’t hear much at first, initially deciding to just walk back to his office and call, but once he heard Mr. Ri asking you about resigning, he stopped in his tracks. He felt foolish to be listening in on a conversation he’s not a part of, especially since it’s also because of him.
It should’ve delighted him to hear you say that you like him. Jungkook could’ve only dreamt up that reality and it still feels surreal. You didn’t have a reason to lie and the fact that he isn’t the only one seemingly overwhelmed by his own feelings should be a good thing.
But that also seems to be your reason for wanting to leave, and the thought breaks his heart in ways he can’t explain. You’ve apparently been planning on leaving for years but never got around to do so. If you stayed when his father asked you to, would you do the same if he asked? And he believes that up until last week, your relationship had become the most comfortable it’s ever been. You seem happy here, but why did it also seem like you just wanted to get away?
The thoughts make his head hurt, and while a part of him wishes he hadn’t heard anything, he at least knows you plan on leaving. And that’s something he absolutely cannot bear.
The sounds of the chairs being fixed disrupt his thoughts. When he hears Mr. Ri suggest that you should start packing up, Jungkook quietly walks back to his office and nonchalantly calls the older man to inform him that he plans on staying up late and that he should drop you home already. If Mr. Ri notices the odd tone of his voice, he doesn’t say anything. He merely expresses his confirmation and not long after, Jungkook hears some shuffling outside his closed door.
“Is there anything you need from me before I leave, Mr. Jeon?” You call out, the walls in between both of you feeling higher and thicker than ever before.
He knows that you know that he no longer asks you to do anything at this hour, and he comforts himself by thinking that it’s your way of letting him know that you’re still there. But the thought is short-lived, as he once again plays the conversation he’d overheard in his mind.
“There’s none,” he says pointedly. “You may leave.”
It takes a while but he eventually hears you walk out. Jungkook feels himself breathe for the first time in the last 15 minutes, before he feels suffocated once again.
Maybe pulling away last week when he’d been so close gave you the idea that he didn’t want you at all, and maybe that had affected you more than he expected. Maybe him, creating more distance that you’d initiated, made you think that that’s what he wanted after all that. Perhaps his being a coward in facing his own feelings had pushed you away, too, and if you’re scared of what you feel for him, maybe letting you know that he feels the same way is what will make you stay. He could be the happiness you’re searching for, Jungkook convinces himself. He could be what you want and need.
And he already knows that you’re all that for him. Whatever rules he created for himself and the limits he imposed are all pointless if he doesn’t have you around at the end of it. If his life after all this doesn’t have you in it, there’s no happiness for him. A new job for you could take you anywhere, maybe far away from where he is; it could lead you to someone, someone who isn’t him.
He hates that an overheard conversation about you resigning is what will take for him to finally be honest about what he feels for you. And that potentially losing you by his side is the push he needs to let you know that he wants you, that he wants everything with you, and that he hopes you want the same.
It’s 9:30 PM by the time he enters the car, his head hazy from the two glasses of whiskey he had. Mr. Ri calls him out on another night of him drinking in the office and orders him to get straight to bed like he’d done a few times before when Jungkook had been too stressed and too stubborn to rest. He merely nods though but he follows through, skipping dinner then mindlessly taking a shower before falling asleep in bed after finishing a bottle of beer.
The ringing of the alarm causes Jungkook to grunt and turn off his phone for the peace and quiet that he needs, given the throbbing of his head. But in the silence, he hears the soft knocks on his door, so consistent that he decides to just open it and ask the person on the other side to stop.
But of course, it’s you, and the way you quickly turn your head away reminds him that he’s got nothing but his sweatpants on and he’s too sleepy for anything else to register.
“It’s 7AM, Mr. Jeon. You have an executive meeting at 8,” you tell him, voice so soft and so far away.
“Fuck,” he groans, rubbing his temples to massage the pain away. “I’ll just take a shower. Don’t make breakfast anymore. We leave in 20 minutes.”
“Noted, sir,” you say, then walk back towards the kitchen.
It’s 15 minutes later when his bedroom door opens and he nervously walks over to you. Unable to still remove the image of his half-naked form in your mind, you focus your gaze elsewhere, but he forces it on him when he asks you to fix his necktie, the first time he’d ever done so.
“I was rushing,” he explains.
You nod and head to him, hating how your hands slightly shake at feeling so close to him again. You can feel his breath as you watch the rise and fall of his chest. He probably feels as anxious as you, perhaps no longer used to this routine after you stopped it days ago. But you manage without sparing him a glance, keeping your distance and your eyes focused on anything else but him from the walk down to the car and throughout the ride to work.
It’s difficult for you to look at him, not only because you’re ashamed but because you’re afraid of what you’ll see. Maybe his eyes will tell of his acceptance of this new dynamic. Maybe they’ll reflect anger and frustration at how you’ve disrupted his routine. Or maybe they’ll show sadness - which is what you’re most terrified of - because that’s your weakness. Any time he looks like he needs comfort or he needs you, you know you’d give in, you know you’d want to be there even if you’ve spent the past week staying as far away as possible.
You know you don’t have much time left here. The Arts Center opens over a month from now and you’ve decided to tender your resignation soon after. You know you should be savoring whatever moments you have with him and perhaps that’s what saddens you the most because you don’t know what will come after.
Your happiness isn’t here, and staying to find out if it’s with him isn’t worth it, not when there’s baggage you carry; not when your own past and insecurities weigh you down.
Arriving in the office, you rush to your desk then walk to his room to give him the notes he needs for the meeting. You turn towards him slowly when he calls you, your name in his voice suddenly sounding foreign.
“Can you prepare me lemon ginger tea? Please?”
His voice is soft, as if he feels burdensome for making such a request. You want to give in so badly and ask how he’s feeling. But you stop yourself. It’s not the place nor time.
You accompany his tea with pastries, your own request for him to have breakfast, and you get your own, in response to him instructing you to do so. You see from your periphery that he’s trying to catch your attention as the meeting starts, but with this, you hold back. You don’t want to see what you now know would be sadness in his eyes.
Jungkook has entered the deepest nook of your heart, you realize. You don’t know how you let him get there, and you don’t know how to push him out.
“Another night of drinking, huh?” Hoseok’s unusually somber voice disrupts Jungkook’s thoughts as he zones out during lunch. “The Arts Center getting you that stressed and anxious?”
Jungkook looks at his cousin questioningly.
“I know how you look when you’re tired and this isn’t it,” Hoseok responds. “You’re hungover.”
“I’m fine,” Jungkook huffs, not wanting to get into this with a man who would know when he’s lying.
“You should be, Kook. There’s a lot going on these next few weeks and we need you at your best. Your team has worked so hard for the Arts Center,” Hoseok reminds him. “So trust them. And don’t let them down.”
As always, his words hit Jungkook where they should. Whatever’s going on in his personal life - even if it involves you, his assistant - he has to be professional first, and that means making sure that everything is ready for the launch in six weeks. There’s a lot he has to meet and prepare for, and he doesn’t know how you’re able to do it. You may be distancing yourself from him but you’re still able to focus and carry out your tasks accordingly. You’ll be fine without him, he thinks. But if you’ll go on thinking that he doesn’t feel the same way about you, he knows he’ll regret it. He knows he’ll regret it even more if he doesn’t ask you to stay.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Jungkook assures his cousin. “I’ve been out of it but I’ll get my shit together.”
“Good. I don’t have to remind you that there’s a lot riding on this. But ___ is there to help. I’m here, too. You’ve got people who believe in you, okay?” Hoseok smiles, a slice of comfort that Jungkook didn’t know he needed. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Jungkook nods and heads back to his office after a full morning has passed, tricking himself into thinking that things will indeed be okay. He just needs to find the courage to face you, finally talk to you, ask you about that night, and tell you what he feels.
But even getting you alone proves to be difficult, as you have your own lunch plans that he didn’t want to interfere with, and your own deadlines that he set that he knows you’ll make sure to meet.
Jungkook gets caught up in the afternoon in another meeting with some of the Board members who came to visit. Biting his lip in frustration, he manages to not lose his mind as he sits through it, merely hoping to the heavens that you haven’t left yet despite the late hour.
He speed walks down the hallway once he gets to his floor and almost panics when he sees your work space empty. But he spots your unfinished cup of coffee and he knows you won’t leave without cleaning up. He briefly sighs in relief when he hears shuffling from inside his room, walking closer to find you standing by his desk, with your back facing the door. You place a folder on his tray for signatures and a bound manual for review, then turn around and jerk in surprise when you see him standing there.
“I didn’t know your meeting had ended, sir,” you say, the formality grating his ears. All he wants is to hear you speak to him casually again, for you to call him by his name once more.
“It just did,” he hums. “I didn’t know if you were still here. I wanted to see you before you could leave.”
His words catch you off-guard but you try to look unaffected.
“Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?” You ask, knowing that he’s past giving you work at this hour on a Friday, but you’re too nervous to think of what else he needs you for.
“No. I…” he stutters. “You, uh, you’ve been avoiding me,” he manages to say, his eyes pleading for you to look at him.
But still, you don’t.
“I’m with you everyday, Mr. Jeon,” you insist, your tone cold. “I can’t possibly be avoiding you.”
“You haven’t looked at me all week.”
As if in reflex, you glance at him, then shift your eyes on the couch to your left.
“That doesn’t count,” he says, his voice oozing in desperation for you to just spare him some time, something you’ve never heard before.
So you give in, as you slowly meet his eyes, and you’re reminded why you didn’t want to do it in the first place. They’re so sullen. Tired, it seems, but just lacking in light. They were always so expressive, even when they’re angry, and even more when they’re sad.
“I just…” you start, knowing that with all that’s happened and with all the stress and pressure he has to endure, you can’t be another one in his list to have to try to figure out. You at least owe it to him to be honest.
You look at the door, suddenly conscious of who might wander in your area, and Jungkook takes your cue, closing it once you nod.
“So, why have you been avoiding me?” He asks again, his voice gaining a bit of life now that you’ve given him a chance to talk.
“I was just ashamed,” you admit, looking away as the scene from last week plays in your mind again. “I said things I shouldn’t have and they made you uncomfortable and—”
“How do you know that?” He interjects.
“Because you pulled away!” You say too loudly, lowering your head in embarrassment at the clear frustration you’re expressing. “I thought you wanted to… uh…”
“Kiss you,” he finishes, earning him the slightest of nods from you.
“But you didn’t and I just felt so embarrassed,” you say, your lips quivering now at how much you’re saying, at how much you’re baring yourself to him, unsure if he’ll do the same. “That was completely out of line.”
“You weren’t wrong though,” he almost whispers as he slowly walks towards you. “About what I wanted to do. You seemed to want that, too, but we were out there and I… I was scared that if I’d done anything you weren’t ready for, then I’d push you away. I still did anyway. Because you’ve spent the entire week avoiding me, talking to me formally, not fixing my tie…”
You stop the giggle that you almost let out, but you can’t help your tiny smile as he whines about what you’ve been purposely doing.
“I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you after that,” you explain, knowing there’s so much more to say but that you’ll start with this. “But you avoided me, too,” you suddenly pout.
“What did you expect me to do?” He exclaims. “You did it first! You know I’m not good with these things.”
“Neither am I.”
Jungkook controls himself from kissing the frown off your face and instead, he walks closer. He gets to appreciate you now as he shamelessly eyes your form, the pastel-colored long sleeved blouse tucked inside your white skirt making his heart race.
He spots your shy smile as you try to turn away, and he steps closer, wanting to see more.
“You still aren’t gonna look at me?” He asks, the soft desperation in his voice prompting you to be bold again.
“I can’t. I might lose my mind,” you admit, groaning right after at your own honesty.
“I’d quite like that,” he hums. “I… I was actually losing my mind all week. It didn’t feel right to have you feel so far away. I wanted to fix things but I didn’t know how.”
“That makes both of us,” you sigh, allowing yourself to finally gaze at him in his black suit, the classic look taking your breath away every time. “But I guess it’s the same with me. I didn’t know how badly I wanted you close until you weren’t anymore.”
You hesitatingly reach out your hand, an attempt to let him know that close is what you want him to be, but also to see for yourself if this is real, if he really is just breaths away from you, and if he could be even closer.
“I’m not pulling away this time,” he assures you, his boyish smile sending your mind in a frenzy.
Your fingers graze his chest, the way it quickly rises and falls telling you that his heart is probably racing as fast as yours. You fiddle with the neck of his tie before pulling it to bring him closer. He follows your lead, stepping forward and meeting your eyes, seeming like he doesn’t want his off of you.
“So uh, are you losing your mind now?” He whispers teasingly.
The way he utters the words with such yearning is a contrast to the shy look on his face. It’s a side of him you’re not ready for, but it’s one you’re thoroughly enjoying. It’s also pushing you to be even more shameless, as you nod and take his hand this time, placing it on your waist so you could feel his touch again. He’s gentle, trailing his fingers up and down your sides.
“I am,” you manage to say, and you wish he could tell by the way you’re panting that his effect on you is way beyond your control now, and that it’s something you want to embrace. You mirror his smile, soft and warm yet full of desire.
He makes his move, placing his hand on your cheek as he eliminates whatever distance is left. And he stands there, just one breath away.
“You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about that night, wishing I’d done things differently,” he heaves, his eyes flitting to your lips constantly, “wishing I had been brave enough to do what I’ve been wanting to do for so long.”
You lick your lips in tandem with his, and once you feel him thumb your cheek, it’s all over for you. With a whisper of his name, you hold your breath, and the next thing you feel is his mouth on yours.
He kisses you deeply, expressing just how much he’s been wanting to do this. You smile as you return his desire, suddenly feeling like you’re floating, as if he’s some dream that you’re able to reach, like he’s that beautiful thing that’s tangible, that you can touch, that you can taste.
You moan once his tongue gains entrance, entangling with yours and dominating you immediately until he’s all you can breathe in. He cups your face, directing it where he wants, while his one hand trails down your back to knead your ass, as if to keep himself steady as he loses himself in you. Your breathing quickens even more as the pleasure rises, and with your fingers palming his chest and gripping his collar, he pushes you against his table.
He cages you and keeps you in place while he devours your lips, and you feel him all over you just as you wanted. You’re hypnotized by his scent, by his warm breath, and by the large hands that now grip your waist and lift you to sit on the edge of his desk.
Your mind is hazy, high on the drug that is his kiss, lust-filled and passionate and relentless. You yearn for him even more the longer you taste him, feel him, and there’s no part of you that wants this to end. Your moans push him to kiss you harder, leaving you a whimpering mess and with a mind that's truly unable to think a single thought outside of this trance-like feeling. His arms now wrap around you, and his hands, seemingly desperate to touch every part of you that he can, trail up and down your back, as if to caress you, as if to say that he won’t stop, that he won’t let you go.
Finally needing air, he removes his lips from yours only to travel to the most sensitive parts of you - on the shell of your ear that his tongue grazes repeatedly, and on your neck that he licks and sucks vigorously. You feel the chills all over your body, and you grind against him to try to satiate that growing need of yours, as you start to feel the dampness in your underwear. His hardening length makes you want everything he can give you, rules and boundaries be damned.
This isn’t like you but you’ve never felt this much pleasure and desire in all your life. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the ecstasy that kissing and feeling him would give. You feel his desperation and desire for you, as he grunts and moans your name, aching to feel more, to do more. You want to live in this moment, and then live it everyday, just take him in and take everything and give him everything.
But you should’ve known that some things are too good to be true. And much as you hope and imagine for things to turn out a certain way in belief that you deserve good things in this world, they don’t. Those don’t happen to people like you. There’s always something underneath it all, as the fantasy shatters like a glass ceiling breaking at his words.
“Stay, ___. Don’t leave,” he hums against you, the tip of his nose gliding against your neck as he takes in your scent. “Please don’t resign. I can’t… I—”
You feel frozen as you process what he’s said. “Wha-what?” You manage to ask, your mind slowly waking up now.
His lips take a pause at devouring your skin and he faces you, his chest heaving and his eyes glassy and pleading as he repeats his words.
“Don’t leave, ___. Don’t resign. Stay with me. I need you next to me.”
“Where is this coming from?” You demand, your heart racing now for a different reason, your anxiety building at how he could’ve known of your plans. You pull away to get a better look at him, with guilt now painting his eyes.
“I… I overheard you and Mr. Ri talking last night,” he admits shamefully. “I didn’t mean to. I was going to just walk away but you talked about leaving and what you feel about me and I just… I froze. I don’t want you to go anywhere, ___. I need you here.”
The silence drags on as you let his words settle, words you thought you wanted to hear. But not like this, you realize. This isn’t how you imagined he’d tell you he wants to be with you.
He attempts to cup your cheek again but you pull yourself back, the rejection breaking him this time.
“You knew I wanted to kiss you last week,” you start, your voice shaking as the pieces fit together. “You knew yet you pulled away. You let a whole week pass with this distance, with no attempt from you to talk to me about it, or to even tell me what you feel but then you learn last night, after listening to a conversation you had no part in, that I like you. And tonight, you kiss me because suddenly you need me? Because you want me to stay next to you?”
“I—” Jungkook starts, unable to say anything as you put it the way you do.
He’s wanted you for so long and always had reasons to keep his distance. He tried to gain the courage to talk to you this week, even as you avoided him, but he didn’t. There was just so much fear, so much worry about what he should do, about you asking him to forget about it, about possibly pushing you away even more. He didn’t intend for things to happen this way but for you to think that he’s only doing this in an attempt to keep you from resigning is all kinds of wrong, even if in hindsight, that’s exactly what it looks like. He could’ve said something earlier, he could’ve told you what he felt, and he would’ve been brave enough if he really wanted to.
“You knew how I felt and you kissed me so I’d stay,” you repeat. “You hate change and me leaving will change everything for you and this… this is how you make sure I don’t.”
Stepping down from the desk, you realize how much you’d lost yourself in him, with your skirt bunched up and your blouse all creased. You fix yourself, suddenly ashamed, and suddenly unsure where you stand. It took so much of you to admit what you felt for him and now it seems that he hadn’t been into you the way that you thought.
You want him with you, but he wants you here, that’s the difference.
“I… want you,” Jungkook says, the words suddenly hard for him to say, as he gets choked up at the distance you’re creating. “I guess I always have. I just couldn’t do anything because I had to be professional and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross. But I couldn’t help it. Those don’t matter to me anymore. Only you do.”
His pleading eyes ask you to believe him, to understand him this time. But your silence and the way you look at him in disappointment tell him it’s not something you’re able to do.
“I never thought you’d feel the same way,” he continues. “And now I know that you do and that just means we can figure it out, right? Staying means we get to be together everyday. We… we get to have this everyday. Don’t you… don’t you want that?”
This is when you realize that much as you want to believe in his sincerity, it’s hard when he thinks of you as a necessity. You make his life easier. You’re his assistant, after all. And that makes you unsure if he only wants you because he needs you, or if they’re just the same thing to him.
He didn’t even ask you why you wanted to leave. Maybe that should tell you enough.
“___, please. I just want to be with you.”
It’s also at this moment when you realize just how much you’ve fallen for him. You’d feared that if he asked you to stay, you would, and that means putting another person’s needs ahead of yours again, just like what you’ve done all these years. Staying would mean that you’d be unable to find yourself outside of all this, and you’ve given up too much not to choose your own happiness this time, even if it means saying goodbye to the person who also makes you happy.
Finding what little strength you have in you, you turn to him. “I don’t want to stay, Jungkook,” you say, your heart breaking as you utter the words, even more when you ask him to forget about everything that happened tonight. “We can’t do this. I can’t do this with you. Not like this. I’m so sorry.”
With your smashed heart in your hands, you do the hard thing and walk out the door, leaving in your wake a man whose broken pieces that you’ve put together all shattered once again.
Walking down the block to get to the bus stop feels like a marathon, as the street feels so long with the heavy burden you’re carrying weighing you down too much. But you manage to get there, only to decide that you’d much rather spend the ride home on your own. You turn to a street to hail a cab then realize once you get in one that it was the spot where Jungkook had seen you, drenched under the rain with a sprained ankle.
He healed parts of you that night, with his quiet assurance that you didn’t have to go through your struggles on your own. You’d hold on to that thought months later, though you’re unsure about now - much as things hurt at this moment, all you want is to be alone.
You get off two stops early and mindlessly walk towards the convenience store, thinking that some snacks for dinner would do. You don’t really feel like eating but your body’s needs are greater than your own desire to eat. Walking down the aisles, you decide you’re only good for some cup noodles tonight. You don’t even deserve boiled eggs that you suddenly craved, nor honey chips, and you definitely don’t deserve dessert after what you allowed to happen earlier.
You stop your movements once you realize you’re sitting on the same spot where you and Jungkook had eaten when he drove you home that night he took you to the park. It had been a terrible evening after that incident with your ex, but Jungkook was the protective one who helped shoulder all the anger that you were too exhausted to feel. He was a reliable and comforting presence, familiar yet new with his warmth. During the occasional moments in the weekend after when your mind would go to that night, you’d think of Jungkook and how he made you feel safe.
It feels too much, so you take your noodles and finish them on the bench outside. You walk home after, letting the crisp evening air envelop you as your mind replays what happened.
You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to feel someone the way you wanted to feel him, but you suppose that’s why it hurts as much as it does. You wanted him to want you as much as you did, and you were perhaps foolish to think he’d have the same reasons as you. Maybe you were really just stupid for feeling anything in the first place, knowing your place in his world. You’re everything convenient and easy and familiar and despite the week of walking on eggshells around him, you gave in so quickly. He knew what to do when it came to you.
And maybe that’s on you. You allowed yourself to feel so much for a man whose life is so intertwined with yours that it’s hard to know what’s real. Yet you know that despite all that, your desire for him is still too strong. It’s why you had to leave right away.
Another moment of him pleading for you to not resign and you might’ve given in again. Another second of hearing him ask you to be with him and you would’ve believed him - that there was sincerity in all that, that he’d be with you regardless if you stayed in the company or not. Now you’re left with the thought that the convenience was what he wanted, that as he crossed the line, it was all or nothing for him. And that you’d be the weak one, willing to give up what else you could be outside of all this just for him.
Perhaps you’re also asking for too much. He’s used to a life without much consequences to his actions. There’s a lot he doesn’t know, especially what you had to endure and give up to be here and what you want out of life now that you’re old enough to take control of it. Maybe for him, asking you to stay was that declaration and proof of his feelings; doing so took so much out of him already that thinking of what life would be like without being with you everyday was too hard of a reality to accept or work around.
You’re too out of it that you don’t realize that you’ve been standing outside your door. You’re thankful for the weekend at least. You’ll spend half of it in bed, and the other half preparing yourself for how you’ll face him again, and how you’ll finally say goodbye.
You enter and sigh at the warmth inside. Dropping your bag on the floor, you stand by your tiny dining table and take a bite off the apple you find in your fridge. You gaze at your shelf, the one filled with photos of your family and friends and a few more of different sceneries that you took using the disposable camera that Jungkook had gifted you for your birthday. It’s another reminder of how much a part of your life he’s become, how, of all the people in the world, he’d been the one to show you that capturing moments is a gift you shouldn’t take for granted.
You often wondered what moments he liked to capture. He doesn’t have photos in his penthouse other than those of structures and buildings that are artistically taken. There are framed old blueprints and historical pieces but nothing of him and the people in his life.
Maybe he doesn’t have good enough memories he wants to keep. For a short moment, you wished that the times he shared with you are ones he’d like to hold onto. But maybe the idea would hurt more - you’ll just be a memory like he would be to you.
You always wanted to keep only good ones of him, but the sight of him rooted in his spot and in shock as you turned him down is far from something you want to remember. He’s something you didn’t know you wanted, but he stands between you and the life you’ve always wished for yourself - one where you get to decide, to be free, to be happy.
He’ll let you go and forget all this, you think to yourself. You’ll be the one who walked away. And he’ll be the one who didn’t run after you.
Jungkook is stunned as he watches your retreating form. The sounds of your heels against the marble floor disappear as he remains unmoving from his spot in his room where he’d kissed you just moments earlier. You felt and tasted just like he imagined, and the moment his lips touched yours, he knew he’d want to keep kissing you over and over again.
It was the first time in a long time that he allowed himself to be honest about how he felt, giddy emotions included. It felt freeing to be able to admit all of that to you after all these months of denying it and walking around eggshells when it came to you. He’d been sure, after last night, that you felt the same way, even more when he felt how your body reacted and how your heart raced, aching for him as much as his heart was yearning for you.
You sounded hypnotizing, too. The way you’d moaned his name ignited something in him that none of the women he’d slept with had ever done before, and he knows it’s because he’d never felt anything genuine for them. They were good for the moment but he knew, especially the instance that he felt you close, that he wanted you for more than that. He wanted the soft touches and the gentle whispers, the longing looks and the intertwined hands. He wanted more than he thought he would, but during his most vulnerable state, he uttered the words he’d been dying to say since last night when he learned of your plans.
He asked you to stay. He told you he needs you, that he wants to be with you.
They sounded like pleas and maybe that’s what they were. From the deepest and coldest nooks of his heart, he was pleading for you to not leave. He’d finally admitted what he’d been so scared to accept, but all his words did were hurt you.
You insisted that all he cared about was the convenience of being together everyday, that you staying meant he’d get to keep all that was familiar. And he doesn’t know what would be taken away from you if you did.
You wanted him, too, didn’t you? Wasn’t that enough? And wasn’t being with him all that mattered?
Sure, there’d be complications, but those are things he knows you’d both be able to face, they’re things you can navigate around and figure out together because this isn't just a one-time, spur-of-the-moment type of thing. He wants all of you, everything with you, whatever it takes.
He hadn’t realized it until that second he held you in his arms. And then again when you pulled away, looked at him with glassy eyes, and told him you couldn’t stay.
He’d been too hurt to run after you. He didn’t know what to say then. How would he, when you’re the one who couldn’t commit to what you felt by staying around? He felt that betrayal, of that feeling of inadequacy, of his feelings for you not being enough. He bared his emotions to you after being so scared of doing so, and then you crushed his heart just like that, with his broken pieces that you’d just put together, scattered on the floor.
This isn’t like him. It’s been a long time since he’s allowed himself to feel so much for another person, to care for them, to want them in a way that scares him. But you showed him a life where it was possible to open himself up again, to find out what happiness could feel like this time, and in that same breath, you took it all away.
He’s not sure where to go from here. But he decides he’ll think about that tomorrow. Tonight, he just wants to forget. Tonight, he just wants to wallow in his sadness, erase the memory of your touch and the feel of your mouth against his, and let it all go.
Jungkook instructs Mr. Ri to go home. He’ll drive himself, he insists. There’s just no one right now he wants to be around.
He drinks a glass of whiskey for the road and manages to get home in one piece. He settles on the couch as he finishes another half bottle, then chugs down a few cans of beer after. The image of you gets blurry. His mouth numbs and he starts forgetting your taste on his lips, too.
His head falls on the pillow and his hand mindlessly reaches out. There’s no heartbeat that he feels; he’s forgotten how fast yours was already. The sound of your laughter and then of your moans is replaced with a buzzing in his ear as his mind starts to fall away.
The warmth of your body is gone but somehow he feels hot, so hot but he can’t get his clothes off. He struggles a little, his fingers aren’t doing their job so he gives up instead, curls into the corner of the couch, and for the briefest moment, he sees your smile so clearly. And then his mind drifts away completely, taking his confusion and yearning for you along with it.
At least for now, there’s not much of you he remembers. But somewhere deep inside, he knows that’ll all change when he wakes up in the morning and searches for you, knowing you won’t be around to tell him that everything is gonna be okay.
Hoseok massages his temple as his sixth call to his cousin in the last half hour remains unanswered.
“He’s still not picking up,” he groans, the unusual feeling of annoyance bubbling inside him at Jungkook’s irresponsibility.
It’s Saturday morning and some friends of their family flew from Europe last night for lunch at the Jeons’ estate. This gathering was scheduled in time for their grandfather’s death anniversary today, and it’s an event that Mr. Jeon was adamant that Jungkook and Hoseok attend as their respective families’ representatives and as heirs of the company. Those friends had been there when their grandfather built Jeon Corporation from the ground up, and welcoming them is a sign of respect for that friendship and for the memory of the man they’re celebrating today.
Jungkook had informed Mr. Ri that he’ll be driving himself to the estate and promised to be there before 11 AM, as what his father had requested. It’s half past that and he’s still nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been picking up his phone and his friends claim they don’t know where he is. Knowing how important today is, Hoseok wanted to accompany Mr. Ri in going to the younger man’s apartment to pick him up and find out why he’s late. When the elder Jeon asks, which he will, Hoseok would at least have a reason to give. It just better be a good one.
They both arrive at the building and are informed that Jungkook’s cars are still in their respective slots. He’s not in any of the amenities and the guards report that they haven’t seen him since he arrived on his own last night. He may not be a fan of these types of events but Jungkook always shows up. He knows what today means for their family; if not for his father, then at least for his grandfather, a man he respected and looked up to. If, for some reason, he failed to wake up, then he must be in a bad condition, and Hoseok either has to scold his cousin, or cover for him.
With no one answering the door, Mr. Ri uses his access and enters. It’s dark and quiet inside, with the blinds all closed. When he and Hoseok find Jungkook passed out on the couch with an empty whiskey bottle and beer cans on the floor, it’s the same moment that Mr. Ri’s phone rings, and it’s your name that lights up the screen.
“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you groggily say. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I had a late night and just woke up. Is everything okay?”
“I’m not sure,” he sighs, as he watches Hoseok pull Jungkook from his cowering form in an attempt to get him to wake up.
“What do you mean?” You ask, standing from your bed now, suddenly awake.
“I was calling to ask if you knew where Jungkook was. Their family gathering is today and he was supposed to be at his parents’ house 30 minutes ago but he wasn’t. He wasn’t picking up our calls either.”
“Oh, I… I don’t know where he is,” you say softly, the mention of his name reminding you of what transpired last night, the image of Jungkook’s dejected look appearing in your mind. You worry about him though, wondering what time he got home. “Have you found him? Is he okay?”
“Hoseok and I are at his apartment and he’s passed out drunk,” Mr. Ri states, as Jungkook finally opens his eyes and mumbles some words that the older man has to walk closer to hear. “What happened last night, ___? Why is he calling your name? And why is he asking for you to come back?”
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that Jungkook had spent last night drinking his feelings away. You know enough from your time with him that it’s what he does when he’s stressed or mad or frustrated, and then he wakes up the next morning and hits the gym to deal with his hangover. There’s none of that today, apparently, and you stop yourself from instructing Mr. Ri to prepare him some lemon ginger tea.
“What happened last night, ___?” He repeats. “Did you fight?”
“We…” you start, knowing that if there’s anyone who has to know about last night, it’s the man on the other end of the phone. “We, uh… we kissed. And then he asked me not to resign then I pulled away.”
Walking towards the kitchen to hand Hoseok a glass of water, Mr. Ri asks if you’d told Jungkook of your plans, stating that he hadn’t told him about it.
“He overheard us talking last Thursday,” you respond. “He knew what I felt about him, kissed me, then asked me to stay. He said he didn’t want me to go, that he wanted to be with me, and that we could be together everyday. It didn’t feel right,” you continue, your voice shaking now as you recall the conversation. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. We were supposed to talk about it. He wasn’t supposed to use my feelings against me like that.”
“Did you tell him why you’re planning on leaving?”
“No… He just went on about needing me to be with him and I… I couldn’t bear it,” you say, feeling the tears dance around your eyes. “You told me that I could always leave but even then, I’d always have a reason to stay but it would be their reason, not mine. I finally built the courage to decide on this because you know I need this. I don’t want him to be my reason this time. Or else I’ll never be able to let all of it go.”
“I know,” Mr. Ri sighs, knowing more than anyone what you mean.
He’ll never be brave like you, but he understands that burden, that desire to just be free; he knows what it’s like to be held back even if it’s your own decision. Because at the end of the day, you’ll always think you have a debt to be paid. He knows he does, but he’ll always believe that you don’t. Surviving was always enough.
“But I think he has to know, ___,” he continues. “He wouldn’t let himself go through this kind of suffering if you don’t mean that much to him. You have to tell him the truth. And I mean everything. You owe it to yourself, too. I know he means a lot to you but you can’t move forward in any way, with or without him, if you’ll just keep him in the dark.”
You let Mr. Ri’s words settle. You told yourself the moment you entered the company that you won’t let your past define you, including your relationship with this family. You’ll work hard and everyone else will know you for that, and not for any other reason. You also knew that you’d spend every second of being here trying to prove to yourself that you’re capable, despite the irony that you were the one defining your time here based on your past that you just somehow couldn’t run away from.
You weren’t supposed to feel anything for Jungkook. You could’ve gone on with your plan of resigning without feeling bad that you were leaving him behind. And even in that alternative reality where he’d ask you to stay, it would’ve been easy to say no. What makes this difficult is that you started to care. You got scared that if he asked you, you would stay. And now that he did, you have to be stronger than your desire to be with him.
Leaving would be hard, but staying would be much harder.
You wish it was easy to make him understand. But you suppose without him knowing the truth, he wouldn’t be able to.
So you give Mr. Ri permission.
“I don’t know how to tell him,” you say. “You would. Make him understand. Maybe he’ll let me go. Maybe he’ll still come after me. And maybe he’ll forgive me, too.”
Mr. Ri hums and drops the call. He returns to the living room where Jungkook is now seated upright on the couch, downing his second glass of water and taking medicine to deal with the hangover. The blinds are now up, causing him to squint his eyes. At least he looks alive now.
“That was ___,” Mr. Ri says. “She was wondering how you were.”
“Did you tell her I look terrible?”Jungkook asks bitterly.
“I did. She also told me what happened.”
“What… happened?” Hoseok wonders. “Did you have a big fight?”
Knowing he has no way out of this, Jungkook tells the truth. “We, uh, we kissed,” he answers, earning him a gasp from his cousin, who clarifies that while he’s not that surprised, he’s curious as to why both of you aren’t together right now.
“___ plans on resigning. He asked her not to,” Mr. Ri answers. “But you… you have to let her go, Jungkook. She needs to learn who she is and what she can do without anything holding her back.”
“If that’s her reason, then she has to know that she can keep learning who she is and what she can do here, with me,” Jungkook insists, slowly gaining clarity, as all the words he couldn’t say last night suddenly come out so easily. “There’s so much she can do. If what we feel for each other is the issue and that means she can’t directly work for me, then there are other departments where she’d fit well in. This isn’t just about convenience for me. I want to see her everyday but having her around means I get to make sure she’s taken care of, that she’s treated well.”
“And then what? She’ll feel indebted to you because of that?” Mr. Ri counters. “This is more than just developing her skills or building her career, Jungkook. This is about being someone outside of this company. It’s about doing something without feeling like she constantly has to prove that she deserves what she has.”
“And she does. Who does she have to prove anything to? We’re beyond that. Everyone knows she’s capable.”
“She has to prove it to herself. It may be hard for you to understand but she… she won’t get to accept all that she is until she’s ridden herself of the burden she carries. For as long as she works for your family, she’ll always feel it.”
The words feel a little too personal, Jungkook thinks, as Mr. Ri talks about your insecurities as if he’d seen you live them, and perhaps he has. The older man witnessed those first few turbulent weeks, and having known you since you started working here through the CEO, perhaps Mr. Ri had seen how your spirit broke a little because of Jungkook.
But still, something about the way Mr. Ri looks sullenly at him says that there’s more to what the older man had seen, as if he himself is pleading for Jungkook to let you go this way, as if the care runs deep and the words carry so much more emotion.
“She needs this, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri continues. “She’s planned on leaving a few times before but her gratitude towards your family always pulled her back. If you really care about her, you won’t let that happen this time. If you want to be with her, you’ll have to do it without her being here. Regardless of what she feels for you, she needs this more. You can let her go without really letting her go, you have to know that.”
It all feels too much and Jungkook’s mind is filled with so many questions. What do you owe his family? How does proving yourself have anything to do with leaving the company? How does he fit into all this? What do you need time away for? And how can he be with you at the end of it? Would you still want that, given that he didn’t even ask you why?
“How are you sure that’s what she needs?” Jungkook asks, curiosity getting the best of him.
“I’ve known her for 20 years, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I know it’s what she believes.”
Jungkook may still be dealing with a hangover, but he knows his ears didn’t betray him. Twenty years, that’s how long you’ve known the man he trusts with his life, the man his father trusts with his family’s life.
The tale is an open secret. Ri Byung-hun was a kid who grew up in the streets. He tried to steal from Jungkook’s grandfather, whose construction business then was slowly taking off. The elder man took pity on the young teen and sent him to school, and Byung-hun showed his gratitude by working for the family, eventually becoming Jungkook’s father’s chauffeur, bodyguard, and closest confidant all in one. The loyalty goes both ways, and it’s stood the test of time.
Jungkook doesn’t know all the details but he knows enough. What he doesn’t know is who you are in Mr. Ri’s life, and why Jungkook hadn’t heard of you before.
“How do you know ___?” Jungkook finally manages to ask. “Who is she to you?”
“I know ___ because of her mother. And over 20 years ago, Cho Hye-soo was your father’s assistant.”
“She— what?”
Jungkook can’t hide his shock, and neither can Hoseok, who looks just as surprised about the truth as he is. His cousin would’ve been in his early teens at that time, and as it was when it came to their family’s children, training to become company heirs starts early, but they don’t get immersed until during their late teenage years.
“I… I know Mrs. Cho,” Hoseok says. “I’ve met her several times but I… I never knew. They never said anything.”
“It wasn’t something they wanted people to know,” Mr. Ri explains. “Other than both of your parents, I’m the only other person who does. Too much time has passed for people to make the connection. It was just better that no one knew.”
“What else did they not want people to know?” Jungkook asks. “What did ___ and her mom do? What… what do they owe our family?”
The elder man knew that at some point, Jungkook was going to have to learn the truth. He just didn’t think it would have to be under these conditions, and that he’d be the one telling the young man about how your lives are intertwined, that whatever pain you both carried growing up, those would always lead you back to each other.
“Your father and Hye-soo were no different to how you and ___ are,” Mr. Ri starts. “He’d just been appointed President and he was under a lot of pressure - from your grandfather, the Board, the rest of your family… He was always stressed and it didn’t help that he was a perfectionist, just like you. That obviously affected your family, but it also affected those who worked for him, especially Hye-soo, who felt that she had a lot to prove.”
She didn’t have a Seoul education but she was smart and resourceful, incredibly hardworking and devoted, something you inherited from her, the elder man shares. The similarities are striking, and Jungkook braces himself, hoping that they end there.
“She always had to work overtime, including weekends, and that took a lot of time away from being with ___. Hye-soo would leave her daughter in the library where her friend worked, and that seemed to be enough. But of course, it wasn’t easy, especially with a partner who lost his job and started drinking to cope.”
As Mr. Ri continues, Jungkook starts to fear something else, and so he asks.
“Did… did he hurt them?”
“He yelled a lot,” Mr. Ri answers. “I’d hear it sometimes during breaks when she’s on the phone with him and it crushed me every time. Hye-soo wouldn’t say much, just that he was a good guy who just didn’t know how to deal with hardships. She never justified his actions until of course, that piece of shit started hitting her.”
Jungkook’s heart breaks at the words, unable to imagine growing up in a household like that - feeling afraid, unsafe, and unfree.
“Hye-soo assured me that Kang-ho never hurt ___. She was good at that, at protecting her child. One time, she was called to work on a Saturday and that didn’t go well with him, but she… she always puts her daughter first, and that meant work would always be her priority because it’s what pays the bills and what sends her to school,” Mr. Ri narrates, his eyes growing more dejected by the second as he recalls those times.
“She was rushing and couldn’t properly conceal the bruise on her face. She was worried that’s why she took ___ with her. Hye-soo kept crying as your father asked her what happened. She apologized for being late and for bringing her daughter to work, and she asked to stay in the office for the night until she figured out where they could go. I had never seen her break down like that,” he says, his voice shaking now. “And I won’t forget how scared ___ looked. She was just 10 years old then, clinging to her mother and not wanting to let her go. We were all strangers to her but somehow, she knew that we were there to protect them.”
The silence goes on, as both men take in Mr. Ri’s words, but it’s Hoseok who asks what happened after, and eventually, what got you here.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jeon didn’t hesitate to help,” the older man shares. “They had Hye-soo and ___ stay at the staff house in their estate for a few nights until they got a new place to stay. I helped them get their stuff after Kang-ho figured out what was happening and ran. The police had a warrant for his arrest but they couldn’t find him for days.”
Turning to Jungkook, he adds, “your parents paid for all the legal and medical fees. Because Kang-ho knew they were helping, you all had to go away until he was found. Hye-soo and ___ went to Busan where he couldn’t trace them; your parents stayed in one of their houses in Gwangju while you and your brother were in Gwacheon.” Mr. Ri sighs at the memory as he recalls those days. “The reason why you were in that cabin was so they could protect you. I know you held a grudge against them for years because you thought they just left you there but they couldn’t stay with you, Jungkook. You were all in danger and they had to keep you and Jeong-sik safe.”
Jungkook looks back at that night when everything changed for him. Things already weren’t going well with his brother; the three-year gap and the way they were always compared kept them from getting along. His parents knew that, yet they still left him with Jeong-sik, who abandoned him in the woods when they played hide-and-seek. That’s where Jungkook was left alone, lost and scared under the rain, the thunder roaring as he yelled for someone to come. He’s always lived with that fear, always carried that memory of anger and blame within him that transformed into a habit of just pushing people away, of keeping them out because that was better to accept than the knowledge that people he trusted left him on his own.
But there’s a reason, he learns now, one that his parents kept from him to protect you and your mother, too. It’s all too much, but he thinks now that maybe there’s a reason why you were so patient with him, why you didn’t judge him that night at the guest house, why you somehow understood what he was so scared of. He doesn’t know if you know that the night at the cabin had anything to do with what you and your mother went through, but regardless, maybe that’s why he always felt so strongly about you. The connection he was yearning for was always there, it’s tied to something, and he realizes it’s tied to your shared past.
“Did the police find the man?” Jungkook asks now, his headache somehow worsening from all the things he’s learning. But he just wants to know that you weren’t even more hurt, that there was a way that his parents kept you safe.
“I did,” Mr. Ri responds. “I still had contact with people in the streets, and I left Gwacheon once I got a call that they knew where he was staying. I hunted him down and I handed him over… with a bloodied face and a few broken bones. They charged him for domestic violence and a few other crimes, including drug possession that would keep him in prison for years, long enough for Hye-soo and ___ to recover.”
“And what about you? Were you charged?” Jungkook wonders.
“No, I claimed self-defense and I—”
“But it wasn’t, was it?” Jungkook counters, knowing there’s more to what Mr. Ri is saying.
“It wasn’t,” the old man admits, turning away as he says the words. “I could’ve done more but I… I couldn’t lose myself to the anger even if it was all I felt. I knew Hye-soo wouldn’t have forgiven me if I did.”
“You loved her, didn’t you?” Jungkook says, dawning on him now that everything Mr. Ri had done was so he could protect your mother and you. He realizes that all the times that the elder man looked out for you was because he was looking out for someone he truly cared about, someone who mattered the most to the person who mattered the most to him.
“I did,” Mr. Ri sighs. “I still do.”
Jungkook recalls the night during the team building and the elder man’s words, about the woman he’d loved for so long, and that moving on from her meant expending all that love to those he cares about, and now Jungkook knows that he was referring to you.
“Did she know? And did she love you back?”
“She… she asked me to move to Busan with her and ___,” Mr. Ri answers, his eyes faraway as memories of that conversation come rushing back, how he’d wanted to just run away and build a life he never thought he could have with the woman he’d fallen so hard for, but how he had to make the hardest decision then, knowing it was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.
“Why didn’t you?” Jungkook wonders.
“I owe everything I have to your family, Jungkook,” Mr. Ri explains. “They gave me a second chance. Your grandfather got me off the streets, your father taught me everything I know, they… they had my records cleaned. They did it when I was a kid and they did it again when I was an adult. The only way I could ever pay them back was through my loyalty. I couldn’t leave, not after everything they’ve done for me.”
“But you loved her. She was your second chance,” Jungkook argues.
“And that love caused me to commit a crime I shouldn’t have. I was going to pay for it one way or another,” Mr. Ri responds. “That’s how I chose to do it, by letting her go, knowing that I’d be able to look after her and ___ better that way. Your father would protect me, and I would protect them. That’s… that’s how things go.”
It’s a tragic love story, Jungkook thinks. Two people who feel so much having to let each other go, their own pasts pushing them towards opposite directions. Decisions were made and that pulled them apart. He supposes that reciprocated feelings aren’t always enough.
“What happened after that?” Hoseok asks now, wanting to know as well how you and your mother managed, and if there’s any more danger that you face.
“They stayed in Busan for a few years. They only returned to Daegu after they learned that Kang-ho died in prison after acquiring some respiratory disease,” Mr. Ri replies. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeon helped with the move, too. They had me check on Hye-soo and ___ almost every month, just to make sure they were doing well. It was hard, of course. Hye-soo wasn’t earning the same as she was so she took another job just to keep ___ in a good school. Mr. Jeon knew that, so he kept offering to pay for her education but Hye-soo always turned him down. That continued until she got to college, and knowing that her mom won’t accept help again, ___ was the one who decided to take the offer. They paid for her tuition, and she eventually got an internship in the company. She took the job offer, too, and she’s just been working hard ever since, thinking that she has everything to prove.”
“Why does my father think he can buy people’s loyalty just like that?” Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “It traps people… it gives them no option.”
“I know it may seem that way but your father knows how important loyalty is, and it’s something that he gives, too. He trusts me just as much I trust him,” Mr. Ri defends. “But when it comes to Hye-soo and ___, it isn’t about loyalty but guilt. He blames himself for what happened to them. Even if it was all Kang-ho’s fault, your father always believed that if he hadn’t been so demanding, things wouldn’t have escalated. It was all the overtime, all the unfair requests that took Hye-soo’s time from her partner, from her daughter. He carries that guilt with him and how he treated her. In a way, I think that was his wake-up call. Work stopped consuming him after. He became considerate of his staff, asking about their families and how they’re doing. He tried to make it up to you and your brother but that seemed to be the hardest thing for him; he didn’t know how to get your trust back.”
“But wasnt ___ choosing to work here about loyalty? She stayed every time he asked her to. She wouldn’t have if she felt indebted to our family,” Jungkook remarks, not wanting to delve into his own relationship with his father.
“She wanted to repay them just so her mom would stop carrying that burden,” Mr. Ri says. “They were able to get away and build a new life where they were safe because of your parents and for ___, that always meant everything. She planned to work for them, but even a part of her felt that all the opportunities she was given was out of kindness. She always felt she didn’t deserve it but your parents also think they can’t ever make it up to her and her mother enough.”
At the silence, he continues. “People are complicated that way, I guess. We all have our own burdens to carry, our own past to deal with, our own actions to make peace with and accept. We make decisions based on what we think is best and just hope we don’t regret them in the future. But we also make them as a way to take control of our own lives. Even if I regret letting Hye-soo go, I at least did it knowing that I’ll either have another chance at being with her, or that someone else will. And someone did, and I know for a fact that he loves her and ___ with all of him.”
“In that sense, maybe resigning is ___’s way of taking control of her life this time, don’t you think?” Hoseok turns to Jungkook, understanding where you’re coming from now, as he knows the feeling of not having to constantly prove yourself to others. “She finally wants to let that burden go, to live as she wishes without feeling like she doesn’t deserve what she has, even if it means not being next to you the way she wants to. If you make her stay, how do you think she can move on from all this? How can you be sure she’s happy?”
Jungkook takes a deep breath, knowing it’s not enough to process everything he’s learned this morning. There’s that past he didn’t know he shared with you, there’s his relationship with his father that he doesn’t know how to mend, there’s his feelings for you, one that’s still so strong and inescapable.
And then there’s the thought that you’d known everything all along. You’ve been patient with him, you've been kind and understanding. Was that all because you felt like you had to? Because he’s the son of the people you feel that you owe a lot to?
It’s not that Jungkook doubts your feelings for him, but he wonders if you do. Now that you’re able to make that decision to leave, what if walking away from his family also means you realize that your feelings are tied to that indebtedness, too? How real was it for you? And after you find yourself outside of all this, would you still want him?
The thoughts make his heart break, and this tells him that after knowing everything, he still can’t deny what he feels about you. He still wants you just as much. Maybe the familiarity he always felt was because you are familiar. Maybe the connection was because of a painful past you both share, of a kind of pain you both understand. Maybe the intensity of feelings is a remnant from his childhood, one that’s tied to yours in a serendipitous way.
He’d like to think that even without knowing, you held out for him. You could’ve chosen to leave anytime before he came but you didn’t, and your paths crossed this way and he convinces himself that you were always meant to meet each other, that you were always meant to make up for how intertwined and unfortunate your lives are. You never met then but this time, when you did, it meant so much more. He could only hope that it’s something you hold onto as well, and that when you decide to finally walk away, it doesn’t mean you walk away from him completely, too.
“Kook, I know there’s a lot to think about but you have to get going,” Hoseok disrupts his thoughts. “Your father still wants us at that lunch. I know grandfather would, too.”
“You should go ahead, Hoseok,” Mr. Ri says. “Just make an excuse to your uncle and say I’m helping Jungkook fix up. We’ll head there right away.”
“No, tell him that I know,” Jungkook insists. “If… if he’s always wanted to mend our relationship, he and I have to start being honest with each other.”
“I will,” Hoseok says as he stands up to leave. “Get your head together, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”
Jungkook massages his temples, knowing that he doesn’t have time to get a workout in and rid himself of this terrible hangover. But he tries, as he takes a warm shower and asks Mr. Ri to prepare him a cup of lemon ginger tea and get some ginseng jelly for the ride.
The trip to his parents’ estate starts off quiet, but the thoughts in his head are so loud that the older man asks what else is bothering him.
“How was her time in Busan?” Jungkook asks.
“It was good. She was a shy kid but she found good people she trusted and that meant everything,” Mr. Ri answers. “I visited them often, even when they returned to Daegu. But I stopped once ___ moved back to Seoul after college. I’d ask her about her mother every now and then. It was nice to hear how well they’re doing, and how happy they are with their new family. Min-woo’s a good man and his daughters love Hye-soo and ___ so much. It turned out well for them. When I think about that, it’s really hard not to justify the decisions I made.”
“Will you make them again? If given the chance?”
“If I still think it’s what’s best then, then I would. Sometimes we make decisions because of the other person, not exactly for ourselves. Sometimes that’s how we realize just how much we love them, you know? When their happiness trumps our own.”
Jungkook merely hums. While he doesn’t think he’s at that point with you, he cares enough to want you to have that chance to find your happiness, in whatever form that may be. And if leaving the company is what it takes, then he knows you deserve that and more. It doesn��t change the fact that he wishes you can search for it while being with him, but perhaps it’s better if you find your way back to him instead. He’ll at least know you chose him, and not because you felt like you owed it to him to stay.
They make it to his parents’ estate over an hour late. The guests have arrived and Jungkook greets them before finding his father. When their eyes meet, there’s a look of sadness in the elder man’s eyes. Perhaps it’s understanding; maybe it’s an apology.
His mother gives him a long and tight hug, one that he savors for the first time in a long while. He remained distant from his parents after he decided to pursue further studies and then work in their office abroad. It’s a relationship he’s still navigating. While his mother has always been present and affectionate, Jungkook is the one who stopped reciprocating. It just seemed easier that way, but he realizes that he’s missed her warmth after taking it for granted all these years.
The lunch gathering lasts for a few hours. Jungkook tries to pay attention to the conversations since engaging requires too much from him, especially after the morning he’s had. But his father doesn’t reprimand him this time, and for that, he’s thankful. Hoseok keeps him on his toes though, but Jungkook’s mind constantly wanders towards you. He wonders how you got home last night, if you managed to get some rest, and if you’re spending your time being angry at him or if, by any chance, you’re missing him like he’s missing you.
It’s 5 PM by the time the last guest leaves, and with Hoseok and A-yeong needing to attend a dinner party, Jungkook is left to speak with his parents alone.
“I heard you know the truth now,” his father says as he sits across from Jungkook in the garden. “I’m sorry I kept it from you.”
“Did you intend for me not to know and find out from someone else?” Jungkook asks.
“___ applied to the company with the intention of contributing in a small way,” his father says. “She made it without any say from me and that’s a testament to her skills and capabilities. When we met after her first day, she asked that she not be treated any differently, and I agreed. I stayed true to my word and I kept my distance, but when I heard about how Mrs. Byun treated her, I knew I couldn’t just stand back. I encouraged her to apply for the EA position, knowing that she would be treated well. And with that, she asked me not to say who she is - not to Hoseok, and especially not to you. That’s not how she wants to be known. And I always respected her request.”
“Does it make any difference, son?” His mother asks. “Does knowing who she is to our family change the way you see her?”
“No, but it makes me wonder how she’d seen me all this time,” Jungkook says. “She put up with me despite how I treated her. She was kind even if I was distant. She… she let me open myself up and that’s… that’s why I like her. That's why I asked her to be with me.”
The surprise on his parents’ faces is immediate, but they stay calm, and it’s what prompts him to continue.
“I just hate to think that she suffered all that time because she still felt like she owed us. If you asked her to stay and help me, she wouldn’t have been able to turn you down. And what if… she’s confused her feelings for me for just… gratitude towards you?”
“Oh, my dear son,” his mother sighs, taking his hand as a form of comfort. “We are so sorry that all this has caused you to doubt her sincerity but if there’s one thing we know about ___ is that she’s genuine, and if you felt cared for by her, then she meant all that.”
“Yes, I did ask her to help you, because I knew that if there was someone who could get through to you, it would be her,” his father says this time.
“So you took advantage of her? Because you knew she’d do what you’d ask,” Jungkook huffs.
“I did that because I knew that she would care, that she would understand. Thinking about it now, perhaps I asked for too much,” the elder man shakes his head. “She’s a lot like her mother, and I’ve come to realize that you’re a lot like me. I needed someone like Hye-soo and somehow I just knew that you needed someone like ___. Both of you opening up and finding comfort in each other just happened, I suppose, and that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”
“I don’t know. Because now, she doubts what I feel and I’m not sure about what she feels, too,” Jungkook admits, letting his own insecurities get the better of him. He hates that he’s started to doubt you as well.
“If it matters, I’ve seen how she is with you. She cares about you, she worries about you. And the way you respond to her just means that your heart feels her sincerity, too,” his father responds. “Don’t let anger or fear taint that for you.”
“Aren’t you mad about what happened?” Jungkook wonders. “She’s my assistant and I ended up crossing a line. I kissed her. In my office.”
“Perhaps I should be,” his father hums. “But with her planning on resigning, I suppose you’re already feeling a lot of emotions about that. I don’t want to add anymore. You’re an adult and you know that your actions have consequences. You just have to deal with them now. And don’t ever do that again.”
There’s no anger in his father’s words. In fact, there’s comfort that Jungkook has never heard before. It suspends his worries only for a short moment, as he’s reminded that you indeed plan on leaving. When that is, he doesn’t know. But he’s gonna have to start dealing with your loss just as he needs to deal with his feelings for you. It’s all too complicated; getting together despite what you both feel isn’t that simple. Your happiness comes first. He knows he cares so much that it’s what he wants you to focus on.
“Letting her go now doesn’t mean you have to let her go for good,” his mother tells him. “She’ll choose you if that’s what her heart says. And at least then, you’ll know for sure that she still wants you after everything.”
Jungkook’s parents’ words echo in his mind for the rest of Saturday that he spends in his living room, choosing wine as his companion for the evening. There’s no intention of getting hammered unlike the night before though. The drink calms him down and allows him to have proper sleep this time. He spends the most of his Sunday in bed, thinking about you, then attempting to remove you from his mind.
Not wanting to deal with any more tension, he instructs Mr. Ri that Monday to just drive you straight to the office. Jungkook arrives and sees you stand up to greet him as he walks through the hallway, and he responds with a nod as his own greeting before heading straight to his room.
There’s that feeling again - of missing you, of hoping he could fix things but not knowing how, of wanting to ask you to stay but knowing he has to let you go, and of wishing that when he does, you’ll find your way back to him again. He shakes off the thoughts during that short walk to his desk, feeling himself weaken with every moment that he spends far away from you.
Jungkook takes his seat and sighs as another day starts without his usual routine. Knowing he has no other choice, he pushes on. From his periphery, he sees you glancing at him through the window, and a part of him wishes it’s your attempt at seeing if you could speak with him, maybe ask if you could talk about what happened later on or about what he now knows about you. Or anything, really. He just wants to hear your voice again. Hopefully see your smile. Despite all his doubts about you, the emptiness he feels tells him that nothing’s changed - what he feels for you is real, and he might not know what’ll happen next, but he at least knows that what he wants is to be with you; he hopes he’ll figure out how to do that with you.
He sees you glance at him again and it sparks a bit of hope. That is, until he spots the envelope on his desk, and inside it, your resignation letter.
He tries to act unaffected as he reads what you’ve written. It’s straight to the point, as you narrate your journey in the company, having started as an intern and then working in logistics before finding your footing as the Vice President’s assistant. You list the skills you’ve developed and other things you’ve learned but that you think it’s time to venture into something new and different, noting how you’ll take all your experiences with you in this new stage of your life.
You thank him for his guidance, and he almost breaks towards the end when you mention the Arts Center. You apologize for leaving before its completion, but you’re thankful because it allowed you to appreciate the beauty of things, that it made you understand the value of meaning and connection, and that his passion for it pushed you to find something that you want to be passionate about, too. You’ve given him something, and now he knows that in his own way, he’s given something to you, too.
You type away on your desktop while not-so-discreetly peeking into Jungkook’s office to see his reaction to your letter. Your plan was to resign after the Arts Center was launched, knowing how big of a project it is that needs all of Jungkook’s attention. He can’t be distracted, and a part of you scolds yourself for being selfish about deciding to do this now.
But you also knew that you couldn’t delay it any longer. After what happened last Friday, you didn’t know how you could face him again, especially now that he knows everything. It didn’t feel right to continue on, not just because of your feelings but because you crossed a line - you kissed and did all that in his office. That itself is unacceptable; it almost feels like a betrayal to his family, whom you’ll have to painfully say goodbye to as well.
Mr. Ri visited you yesterday to give you comfort, knowing that you’d choose to go through this on your own again. Jungkook was devastated but was worried about you more than anything, you were told, and somehow that made the decision less difficult but still painful to make. You don’t know if he’ll ever truly understand, especially if finding yourself means letting him go despite the happiness he gives you.
It’s not everyday you find someone you feel so much for, but then again, human beings are complicated - they can want something and be scared of it at the same time; they can have the chance to have it but doubt it all the same. What you feel for him should be enough to dispel your worries about his sincerity but there’s too much going on in your mind at this point. Right now, you just want to get away. With him learning the truth, you suppose he needs time to process all that as well.
You’ll miss him though. You’ll miss everything about this place. But you’ll miss him the most.
Your phone ringing disrupts your thoughts, and your heart races when you hear Jungkook’s voice on the other end.
“Ms. Cho, please come to my office.”
You calm your nerves and find the strength to get off your seat and walk towards him. He’d been expressionless the whole time, and you wonder if he’ll hold off your resignation because it’s terrible timing. Either way, you try to prepare yourself for what’s to come.
But clearly, you didn’t do so enough, as you’re still left speechless when he holds out an envelope for you to take, the sight of his hands that once held you close breaking your heart again.
“I accept your resignation,” he says, his voice low and firm, his eyes not fully meeting yours. “You have a month until your last day but you have two weeks worth of vacation and I urge you to take them before you leave.”
“Thank you, sir,” you manage to say, your voice soft and shaking compared to his. “I… I will.”
“And this is your recommendation letter,” he says, handing you another envelope. “You’ve shown exceptional skills throughout your tenure here, Ms. Cho. Everyone you’ve worked with says so, and I’ve seen that firsthand. I’m sure that wherever you decide to work after this, you’ll be another great asset. And my family wishes you good luck in your future endeavors. Thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”
The words are too formal, too professional for your liking, and this breaks your heart even more. But you suppose there’s no other way to do it. You’re the one leaving; you’re the one who pulled away. After everything that’s happened, you’re the one who walked out to find your happiness when Jungkook needed you the most, and you could only hope that one day, he’ll forgive you for it. That he’ll forgive you for all of it.
“Thank you, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in thanks. “I’ve said it all in my letter but once again, I appreciate everything you’ve taught me.”
You bravely look him in the eyes as he seems to have found the courage to look at you, and the longer you do, the harder it all becomes.
“Shall I commence the process of finding my replacement, sir?” You ask.
“There is no need,” he replies. “I’ve received approval from my father to have Lucas come in as my assistant effective immediately. He’s scheduled to arrive this week, so you can spend the remaining time you have here turning over everything to him. I will announce your resignation to the team before then. You can also begin the offboarding process with HR so that there are no delays.”
“Understood, Mr. Jeon,” you say, the light in your eyes dimming as each second passes by.
“Is there anything else I could do to help you, Ms. Cho?”
There’s a prolonged moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, his eyes tinged with a kind of sadness that you perhaps mirror, with words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.
You wish he’d say that he’s okay, that he forgives you, and that he hopes it didn’t have to be this way.
He wishes you’d say that you’re sorry for leaving him, that you’ll be thinking about him, and that you hope you’ll find your way back to him again.
You want to tell him that he’s all you could think about, that you’ll miss him everyday, that you’ll search for beautiful things that are tangible like you said you would, and hope they would lead you back to him.
He wants to say that he’ll look for you everywhere, that he’ll hold onto every good memory you have together, that he hopes you find whatever makes you happy, and that he’ll wait for you until you realize that it could be him.
But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and head out the door.
You take your seat and will yourself not to cry. You can’t help it though, even as you press your palms against your ears to drown out the sounds of your own sadness, of your heart’s call of his name even if you’re the one walking away.
You let the tears fall, a reminder that you’d done this, and that for the first time in your life, you’re crying over losing someone, even if he was someone you didn’t have in the first place.
Maybe you weren’t meant to have him at all.
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WHORETICULTURE. various jjk men / sub gn. reader
synopsis. filled with lust for some fucking guy.
who. nanami kento / satoru gojo / toji fushiguro / heian era! sukuna . ✦ . what. one night stand / unprotected sex / mild religious themes/ thigh riding / slut shaming / against a wall / mean dom (or just brat)! satoru / exes with benefits / exhibition / recreational drug use + alcohol consumption ergo dubious consent / oral (r giving) / body betrayal / brat! reader / implied cnc kink + masochism / domination loss / mild degradation + nipple play / double penetration
notes. terms are kept general thus gender neutral reader but it’s entirely up to your interpretation. a mini compilation of thirsts i had while attempting to fight writer’s block and an unforgiving schedule.
⸻ ## I KNEW IT WHEN I. . .
MET HIM !
[ NANAMI KENTO ]
nanami kento was the embodiment of the traditional man in every sense. he was a businessman — clad in a white button–down, black slacks, and a matching tie hanging around his collar. five days a week, monday to friday, nine a.m. to five p.m. a true provider.
that much you can assume from observation alone. he’s not like the usual crowd; the man stands out. so, it’s only natural that you become curious.
“i’m not above sex before marriage,” and when he speaks, he takes his time to carefully enunciate each word with practised precision. something you didn’t know you were attracted to until now, straddling his thighs.
“somethin’ tells me you’re not just a—” he presses a finger to your lips, interjecting, “if you’re suspicious of me we can always stop,” and you quiet down, rocking your hips back and forth as you feel his erection grow beneath your crotch.
the backseat of his car is a tight fit but it makes it all the more intimate. remnants of nicotine on his breath waft across your face, warming your skin.
“the windows are tinted,” he murmurs, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb, “it’s as private as it’s going to get,” before inserting the aforementioned finger into your mouth.
you smile to the best of your ability, wet muscle swirling around the salty digit as you maintain your grinding. slow and steady, purposeful movements that prompt just the right amount of friction between the two of you.
“isn’t this—” nanami interjects once more (you can barely get a word out), by way of pressing his thumb against your tongue thus causing a copious amount of saliva to cascade down your face. it’s wet and messy and done entirely for his own amusement. “we’re not celibate.”
[ SATORU GOJO ]
“do you—” he pauses mid–sentence, startling blue eyes fixated on his cock sliding in and out of your puffy entrance before continuing, “usually sleep with the stranger that saves you from a creep at the club or am i special?”
if you could’ve, you would’ve rolled your eyes. he’s talkative — too talkative but you find yourself enjoying the sound of his voice anyway. your hole quivers and tightens, gripping him like a vice at the implication that hangs between the two of you.
“i’m not easy ‘toru,” you protest in a weak attempt to sound firm though it leaves your parted lips as a breathy whine instead. and satoru smiles at that, chest rising and falling rapidly as he laughs.
“when did i say you were easy, stupid?” he asks, feigning innocence as he tilts his head to one side, bringing one hand up to your face to pat your cheek.
the action being somewhat degrading in its own sense. but ‘toru — satoru — was just like that. saying one thing and meaning or doing another. you couldn’t wrap your head around him.
and he revels in the fact, his smile continuing to grow; the type that meets his eyes and makes them crinkle ever so slightly.
“you wound me,” he tsks, bringing his lips closer to your ear as your body jolts upwards against the wall in sync with his cock bullying your hole, “all i meant by it was that we just met and look where we are now.”
‘it’s the same thing’ you think, but that’s all it is — a thought. when your lips part, you only vocalize a string of moans. satoru was a labyrinth and you were lost in him — or rather the pleasure he provides.
“bet you’re already justifying this in your head.”
⸻ ## I LOVED HIM WHEN I. . .
LEFT HIM !
[ TOJI FUSHIGURO ]
“what —” he lifts the shot glass to his parted lips, “are you thinkin’ about?” before swallowing a mouthful of cheap liquor, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he does so.
it’s a good question; one you don’t know the answer to, but a good question all the same. you’re thinking about everything and anything while simultaneously not thinking at all — a blunt dangling haphazardly between your lips.
“you want to know what i’m thinkin’ about?” so you answer his question with a question like a smart ass instead, leaning in until you’re nose–to–nose with the man you swore you’d never see again. and he doesn’t hesitate, a half–smile playing on his lips as they ghost yours. they’re warm, lighting a fire beneath the surface of your skin in its wake.
“no, i don’t want to know,” he sing–songs in response, catching you somewhat off guard. what blindsided you though was him lowering the waistband of both his grey sweatpants and his boxers. his cock, exposed to the cool air of the alleyway, standing at full mast—a vein running from the base to the tip.
suddenly your mouth feels dry and your knees feel the slightest bit weaker. it’s muscle memory — or its evil cousin that encourages your body to betray you.
you’re sinking to your knees, blunt discarded somewhere on the concrete (for god’s sake, you don’t care). your lips part, cheeks hollowed and throat relaxed. quiet anticipation coursing through your veins as you feel the weight of his cock in your palms.
“you know what to do,” he rumbles from above you, picking at the beds of his nails. and he’s right, you do know what to do; how he likes it.
you take him into your mouth, dragging your tongue along the outline of his piercing some ways below the head of his cock. and toji lets out a satisfied groan. once, twice, and then a third time before you focus on taking his full length into your mouth inch by inch until he’s hit the back of your throat.
from there, you move your mouth along his length, tracing every inch of it with your tongue — imprinting its shape in your mind all over again. it’s more like refreshing an old memory rather than creating a new one.
“knew you’d—” he clenches his jaw, cock throbbing in your mouth as saliva mixed with his pre–cum slips past your lips stretched to capacity around him, “come back t’me.”
[ HEIAN ERA! SUKUNA ]
“i’m—” your breath hitches, catching in your throat in sync with the rise of your shoulders, “many things my lord, but sorry isn’t one of them,” as your hips stutter.
momentarily. one hundred and twenty seconds.
it takes sukuna less than thirty seconds to capitalize on your fault. two hands wrap around your hips, nails pressed into the tender skin forming crescent-shaped indents. you’re forced to move to his rhythm now; cruel and unforgiving.
“should’ve focused on what’s important little one,” he clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment. he’s far from disappointed though, his cocks — both of them — buried to the hilt throb inside of you. and an onslaught of tears blur your vision; your mind is clouded by a myriad of sensations.
you’re somewhere between excruciating pain and unbelievable feats of pleasure.
“this isn’t—” you try, albeit with great difficulty as your words come in between gasps. but sukuna interjects, the corners of his lips curling upwards: “fair? stupid, this game of ours was never meant to be but you know that already.”
two more hands make contact with your skin after that exchange; two fingers on one hand pinching your nipple whereas the other holds your face in place so that you maintain eye contact with him.
and sukuna rolls his eyes as soon as your gazes meet though it’s a somewhat playful gesture. something most would find difficult to picture. but not you — never you.
“stop pretending to be a damsel in distress i’m not a—” he pauses mid–sentence, smile growing as he thrusts his hips, “well, i’m not that kind of monster,” the sound of his skin colliding with yours echoing throughout the room.
you whimper, staring at him through half–lidded eyes and a curtain of lashes wet with unshed tears: “i like what i like.”
© k4vehrtz — all rights reserved. do not, under any circumstances, plagiarize / repost / translate my work.
#x male reader smut#x bottom male reader#nanami x male reader#toji x male reader#gojo x male reader#sukuna x male reader#jjk smut#jjk x male reader#x sub male reader#jjk x y/n#gojo smut#gojo x you#toji x you#nanami x you#sukuna x you
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HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND — y.o
⛤ yuuta okkostu x fem! reader
How else would yuuta react if you denied your relationship in front of everyone? You obviously weren’t gonna be let off easy.
cw. smut. (kinda) exes to lovers-ish. thigh riding. semi-public sex. library sex. dry humping. oral (f. receiving). groping. marking. pet names (princess). face grabbing. slight manhandling. +18!
wc: 1.1k
a/n: yall i got a full time job and I’m doing school and i really want to post my fics more bc i love sharing my writing and hopefully this doesn’t sound rushed lol.
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
You practically had to shout it out loud for it to be known. How many times did you have to say it to get through Maki’s skull as she was constantly teasing you about how you and Yuuta used to act like two middle schoolers in love, laughing about it in front of everyone.
You wanted to craddle yourself into a ball hearing it all made you remember the soft moments you had together and then made you cringe about it in every being of your body.
You held hands and tried to catch the perfect moment to kiss but was too anxious to, spent everyday together before he left, he promised to send a call, text or at least email and now he’s back, decides to act all cool, his attitude changes only slightly like he’s all that now, he had fixed his hair to side and his demeanor turns cold. Everything about him and his current presence ticked you off. He didn’t have to stay. You wished he’d go back.
Did you really wish that? Or did you need him to trap you in the darkest aisle of a library where he caught you. Whispering in your ear to take all those awful words you said back while he’s pinning you against the tall shelf, his pelvis is rocking against yours, his lips ambushing your neck. He’s just kissing you and touching you all over, making sure you don’t escape him either. He’s squeezing your tits a bit too hard, leaving too many hickeys.
“Can we just take a moment—“
“Why should we?” his hot breath hitting the shell of your ear, traveling down your jawline. His hand squishing the sides of your cheeks to turn your head to the side to gain access to your neck. You could feel his wet muscle and his warm lips glide over your skin, his hand on the back of your ass, squeezing it and also pulling you more into him.
The slight change in yuuta was quite scary, he wasn’t as soft as he used to be. He’s leaving marks and his hips are moving recklessly. He knows it will be so much better if he could take your clothes off and be bare already to fuck you like he is your boyfriend, you’re all his.
He guides his leg between your legs under your skirt, his thigh grazing your covered cunt and his hands situated on your hips to rock you against his thigh.
“Didn’t you think it hurt my feelings when you said that in front of everyone?”
You couldn’t look him in the eyes knowing his eyes bore into you, he was looking for an apologetic look from you but you were too distracted by looking down watching as he was driving your hips to desperately drag on his thigh. He was pressing his leg harder into you making you finally let out out moan. The shame you felt when you realized you were in a public place making such noise.
“I was just telling the truth..hah…” your tone with half of regret and moans by yuuta forcing your hips to grind on him, your clit throbbing from the harsh friction and you’re already leaving a damp on his leg.
The way your words were set in annoyance and anger like you truly disregard the fact that you and yuuta never had a thing going on and this frustrates yuuta when he replays how you yelled that he wasn’t your boyfriend.
“I am your boyfriend, i just wanna make sure you don’t forget that princess” He pulls down your bottoms and he’s on his knees with his hands on the sides of your thighs like he’s kneeling to an angel which you were to him and you never thought so with all the built of negativity you had towards him.
“Alright i get it—“
He doesn’t think you do, he wants you to understand that you were his and he was yours. Why would he stop here? He’s already pulling down your underwear and your anxiety strikes at you when he gives your pussy a gentle kiss and you gave out a yelp, you kept your eye down the aisle to see if people would pass by. Your hand is slightly hovering over your mouth, so you’re still emitting small moans.
“C-come on yuuta—quit it already..ah!” You would rather move somewhere with more privacy though yuuta doesn’t care a place, he was too busy making out with your cunt now, his tongue flicked and sucked on your clit.
And it was not enough for him he had to prop your legs on his shoulders that your back pressed against the shelf of books more and you gasp by the sudden feeling of being weightless with your feet off the ground and yuuta buries his lips, his tongue to eat you out.
You cursed under your breath not knowing where to put your hands, you wanted to support yourself to not fall though yuuta would never let that happen and yet also drown in bliss with your hands gripping his black locks. the anxiousness and the pleasure clouding your mind at the same time.
Your trying your best to keep it down and your constant repeated pleas. Yuuta was lapping his tongue from the outside of your walls to your clit and something ignited deep in the pits of your stomach that just made you push your hips further into his face. It doesn’t seem like he was gonna stop anytime, he was so focused his eyes were shut thinking about how good you taste and how he had never got the chance before. he can tell that your twitching to cum soon and your sobs getting a little louder.
“Gonna cum! Gonna cum! Gonna cum!” You squealed, your legs wrapped around the back of his neck and your heels digged into his back, your spine arching off of the shelf and your eyelids flutter.
“Cum on my mouth princess, I’m all yours…” the way his voice melted your heart all over again, causing butterflies to fly in your tummy, made your orgasm come faster but also made you feel shamed and entirely hate it for feeling this way.
The moan of his name being let out so indecently that people might hear or probably did. Feeling the waves of you cumming flow through your body and his mouth hasn’t yet disconnected from you.
Yuuta looks up at you like this was just the beginning. You’re forced to wrap your arms around his neck when his hands comes under behind your knees, you still had no chance of keeping your feet on the floor. He’s already planning to fuck you with the zip of his pants and his cock freeing out, make you cry out a million times repeatedly that your his and he’s yours.
Now you’re gonna have to take everything you said back.
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk yuta#jjk yuuta#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#yuuta okkotsu smut#yuuta smut#yuta okkotsu smut#yuta x y/n#yuta okkotsu x reader#yuta x reader#yuta smut#yuuta x reader#yuta okkotsu
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innocent - coriolanus snow
you never would’ve thought you’d end the night with a peacekeeper in your bed…
cw: 18+//loss of virginity//piv sex//handjobs//fingering
an: this gif is him above me 🤭🤭
perhaps it had been a bad idea to wear such a short skirt to the hob that evening. you’d caught the eye of many men as you swayed to the tunes of the covey; cheap moonshine in hand. you noticed one in particular—the one with those piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde buzzcut—was watching you intently.
you couldn’t help but blush, cheeks dancing with the warmth of being seen, chest filling with that sticky feeling. you’d felt it before, but the smiles of those other men had never amounted to anything more than a lingering kiss or two. your heart stirred when he came up to you, and you realised he was a peacekeeper. you knew better than to get entangled with one, or so you thought.
it was hard to resist one so charming and attractive.
'i saw you looking at me,' he remarked, drawing his arms around your waist.
you could barely meet his gaze, embarrassed by the way his cool touch sent a shiver down your spine and made your thighs tingle with want.
'shy are we, bunny?' he asked, removing one hand to cup your chin, drawing it up to meet his icy blue eyes.
you shook your head, but your eyes told the truth; fluttering about the room, trying to look anywhere but him. you wondered if anybody could see you—it would've been shameful to be caught so close with a peacekeeper. but nobody seemed to be paying you any heed, and so your pounding heart ceased its nervous palpitations.
‘how about a dance?’ he laced his fingers in your hand, moving it up so it rested against his shoulder.
you were acutely aware of the other hand which rested at your waist, and you couldn’t exactly say no when he had already moulded you into the perfect stance. the band began to play a slow song, and the blush stained your cheeks once again. he laughed, an almost mirthful laugh—although, coriolanus snow was never somebody to really, truly laugh—not that you knew that.
‘are you going to tell me your name, officer?’ you drawled, deciding that there was no harm in flirting. he was so handsome after all; and it would be rude not to talk to him.
‘it’s private, actually,’ he admitted bashfully, as if he was ashamed of his inferiority. but next to you, he felt powerful. you were just a district girl, and much smaller than his six foot frame. he could do anything he wanted to you.
‘well private, you ought to have a name,’ you began. ‘and it’s awful rude to not introduce yourself to a lady.’
you were teasing him; he wondered how many men you’d used that line on, but when he looked at the way you were bright red, and how your knees buckled a little, even as you attempted to maintain your composure, he reckoned it couldn’t have been many.
‘it’s private snow,’ he told you curtly.
you smiled; a pretty name. much different to the names here in 12, though you reckoned a peacekeeper was probably from one of the other, wealthier districts. not that you knew much about those.
‘well, private snow,’ your voice had a sweet twang to it, and he found himself thinking of another girl he knew, once, with that same appalachian drawl. he had come here to find her, and yet had no luck.
but you weren’t so bad—no, you were even prettier, and probably didn’t have a man like billy taupe clinging onto your skirts. he wondered if you had ever even kissed a man before. you had the sweetest looking lips, so plump, and a little wet with the moonshine you’d been sipping.
‘how are you liking district 12?’ you continued, brows quirking up with interest.
‘it’s alright. commander hoff works us to the bone but i suppose that’s the price you pay for 20 years,’ he huffed. his eyes looked a little distance—sad, perhaps. you wondered if he’d had much choice in the matter. still, even if he hadn’t, you did have to admit he would probably look good in his peacekeeper uniform.
‘20 years?’ your mouth stretched into a circle of surprise. ‘my, that’s terribly brave.’
his own cheeks reddened a little, though he quickly swallowed that feeling. he couldn’t blush, that was pathetic. that was something his fellow peacekeeper sejanus plinth did. no, a woman like you wasn’t to be caught by a blushing man. he needed to show you what it meant to be had by a peacekeeper—not the ambitious schoolboy in academy rouge that he’d left as soon as he’d set foot in 12.
‘i suppose so…’ his voice trailed off.
‘how do you keep yourself entertained, private snow?’ you asked as you swayed a little to one of the songs the covey was playing.
his mind flickered to what he’d been planning on doing to you—he’d not touched a woman in weeks, and at night he often found his body receptive to any and all thoughts. tonight, he had the chance to actually satisfy that ache that had been bottled up for weeks. he wondered if you’d feel better than that girl he did in the alley—at least his mind was clear tonight.
‘oh, dancing with pretty girls like you is one way of staving off boredom, bunny,’ he pressed a kiss to your hand, watching as your lips puckered into a bashful smile.
how innocent. he’d love to ruin you. he wondered what noises you’d make with his cock buried deep inside of you. you were probably tight as anything, just begging to be filled up with his cock.
‘well, if you think i’m pretty then i suppose i’ll have to thank you,’ you gazed up through your thick lashes, fluttering them ever-so-slightly.
his cock stirred in his pants—you were so fucking tempting. the way you were just begging to be fucked. he cocked a brow, curious as to what your intentions were.
‘what kind of thanks, bunny?’ he asked, breath fanning your ear.
‘well…’ feeling daring, you stroked at his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his shirt. you noticed the dog tag dangling, and a smirk played at his lips.
‘how about a kiss?’ you offered. oh, you were so innocent.
he nodded, and you felt your heart flutter. you worried he’d think you were being too forward, what, with you offering so quickly. but he was just so handsome. you wondered what his lips would feel like against yours.
perhaps you wouldn’t have to wait so long to find out…
you dragged him to a more secluded place, feeling a little too embarrassed about kissing him in the throng of people. he wondered, as you led him down the corridor of the hob, just how much you’d be thanking him. maybe you’d let him touch you a little, hands straying to cup your breasts, and then perhaps caress your hips. one thing would lead to another… and sweet virgins like you were easily persuaded.
coriolanus was swift with his kiss, leaning into you as you were pressed against the wall. you kissed back, soft at first, but when you felt his tongue pressing against your lips, you opened your mouth and surrendered.
he wrapped his hands around your waist, palming at the skin beneath your shirt. a heat crept upon your cheeks as his lips kissed yours with a hunger. pressed up against you, his cock twitched a little in his pants. he had to have you, you were practically begging for it in a skirt that short.
‘you taste so sweet, bunny,’ he mused as you pulled away from him. he wondered what you’d taste like in other places, whether your cunt had the same sweetness of your mouth.
you wanted more—your cunt ached, an unfamiliar feeling, but nontheless you knew you needed to be satisfied.
coriolanus could see this, the way you clenched your thighs together, and how your heart thumped inside your chest. he’d felt it when he’d been flush against you.
‘you wanna thank me some more?’ he inquired, blonde brow cocked.
you bit your lip, but you knew you couldn’t deny the rush inside your body, the way you were growing increasingly wet between your thighs. the ache that nagged at you, yearning to be satisfied.
‘mhm,’ you nodded dumbly, feeling his hands grab at your thighs.
‘you live alone?’ he asked, desire glinting in his eyes.
you shook your head, and a frown scampered upon his lips.
‘well, my pa’s not home til late, if you wanna come over…’ you drew a heavy breath, nerves making your knees buckle.
his frown turned to a smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. how endearing, the way you called your father pa. you were so beneath him, and he was determined to teach you that you belonged to him, the poor little district girl who’d been snapped up in the peacekeeper’s trap.
—
your house wasn’t far from the hob. coriolanus was glad of this, his cock was straining so hard in his trousers—he worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and finishing without even having touched you. well, that would just be a waste; embarrassing even.
you fumbled with the keys, and he felt a smile scamper upon his lips as he watched you, so afraid, his poor little bunny, struggling to open the door. when you finally slotted the key in the lock, coriolanus’ arms were wrapped around your waist, fingers tracing lightly across your skin.
‘you know bunny, you really should be careful around strange men,’ he murmured against your ear. you were acutely aware of what was pressing against your bottom.
‘but you’re not strange… you’re a peacekeeper,’ you hummed, moving your legs over the threshold. he still clung to you, breath heavy, hands roaming.
you had to get inside before anyone saw, and god forbid, alerted your pa. there was something deliciously thrilling about having a man inside of your home—you wondered if it made you a whore, inviting him inside and only having known him an hour. but you knew many girls who did that, and at least you weren’t taking money for it.
‘mhm, but men like me… well, they just can’t resist taking what’s theirs,’ he pinched you, watching you gasp at the stinging feeling of your delicate skin between his fingers. you looked so sweet when you squirmed.
‘well maybe i want you to take what’s yours,’ you looked up at him with wide eyes, fingers lacing against each other as you swung about.
you looked like a little lamb, so sweet and innocent. he wanted to take you between his jaw and make you bleed.
‘is that so, bunny?’ he asked, and you nodded dumbly.
you trailed along to your room, not desperate enough to let him have you against a wall, glancing back at him every so often and watching as his eyes followed you. you shoved the door open, and switched on the little lamp by your bedside table.
your room was bare, for the most part, but coriolanus felt it suited you, the cream bedsheets and the old floral wallpaper. it was so innocent. he wondered if you’d stain those sheets tonight as he stretched you out. he’d want to keep them, as a reminder of what he’d taken from you.
you sat down on the bed, and he followed suit, still reminded of his achingly hard cock. you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his trousers; it was of a considerable size, and made you gnaw at your lip in anticipation.
‘i want to help you,’ you said, mouth going dry at the sight of him.
‘help me, bunny?’ he inquired. your words were a little cryptic, but he could tell that your eyes were clearly focused on his achingly hard cock.
‘mhm, you’re so hard,’ you murmured. although you were innocent, you’d read enough romance novels to figure out what he needed.
‘you can certainly help me,’ he grabbed your hand and guided it to his clothed hard-on.
you palmed it lightly, gasping as you felt it. he watched as your mouth spread into an exclamation of delight, lips flickering a little. you were so innocent, the way you were gentle in your touches, how you sighed with amazement.
he groaned at the touch, but moved your hand away to free his cock from the restraints of his pants and boxers. your mouth hung agape as he pulled them down to his knees and you were presented with his hard cock. he was big, not that you’d really seen a cock before, but it had to be at least eight inches, and it was throbbing desperately against his stomach.
coriolanus guided your hand back, and wrapped it around the base. you could feel the blood coursing through it, and saw a little bit of precum dribbling from the tip.
‘just move your hand up and down, princess,’ he cooed, and you stroked him, sweaty palms not causing as much friction as he expected.
you moved your hand to the tip, and he urged you to give it a squeeze, groaning as you did so. you felt so good, the way you were thumbing his dripping head, stroking so diligently. but he wanted more, he needed to feel you.
your thighs burned as you continued to stroke him, and you watched as he bucked his hips a little at your touch. you fastened the pace, not too quick, but just enough that his breaths grew haggard. it didn’t seem so intimidating now that you were doing it, and his moans suggested you were doing a good job.
but still, your own body was aching with need, and you found yourself grinding into the bed. coriolanus saw this, the way you were practically squirming, and moved one of his own hands to grip at your thigh.
‘does bunny want me to touch her too?’ he said between breaths.
you nodded lazily, hand still pumping his cock. he was close already, the feeling of your hand too much, and the anticipation of finally burying himself deep inside of you was sending him over the edge.
coriolanus’ fingers traced lightly up your thigh, and when he reached your skirt, he pushed past the hem and slipped between the apex of your thighs. you spread them, and gasped as you felt his fingers brush against the wet patch of your panties.
‘oh bunny, you’re so wet,’ he sighed, his cock throbbing. he was so close…
you mewled as he removed your panties, fingers gently prying them off of you and leaving them to hang at your ankles. you kicked them off, but were left sighing as he ceased his touch for a moment.
his cock twitched in your grip, and he let out a loud, rough groan, spurts of cum coming from the tip of his cock. you blushed, watching as he came onto your hand, and his stomach. he’d have to wash his uniform tonight, because it was stained with the pearly ropes.
sweat beaded at his forehead, but he didn’t let the waves of his own pleasure distract from what he wanted most, which was to feel you. you spread your legs, and he sighed at the sight of your glistening cunt.
he ran one finger over your folds, and you clutched at the bedsheets, attempting to ignore how sensitive you already were. his thumb pressed against your clit, and you couldn’t stifle your moan this time, a feeling of warmth shooting across your body. you wanted more, and ground into the feeling of his thumb running circles against the sensitive spot.
‘so wet for me, aren’t you?’ he muttered, his long fingers edging further down your folds.
‘feels so… good,’ you huffed, eyes fluttering shut with bliss. of course you were already lingering on the edge of your own pleasure—he doubted you’d ever even touched yourself before.
he eased a finger into your hole; feeling your slick walls take it in, but only barely. you were so fucking tight, and he watched as you winced a little at the feeling. it only hurt for a second, but you were so wet that you were longing for more.
‘oh please,’ you gasped, feeling him arch his finger while his thumb began to vary its ministrations against your clit.
‘gonna cum for me, bunny?’ he cooed, moving his thumb up and down, watching as your thighs began to tremble.
the heat was unbearable now, and when he added another finger, stretching you out, you felt your whole body begin to tingle with the beginning of your release.
‘mhm!’ you cried out, exasperated from his touch.
you gushed around his fingers, though he continued to rub his thumb against your clit, and arch his fingers inside of you, mesmerised by the wetness coating them. your breath hitched, and you came completely undone, burning and trembling as he made you cum.
he felt his cock harden again at the sight of you coming around his fingers, and as he removed them from your hole, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer.
coriolanus pushed you back into the bed, cock pressing against your thighs. your head swam with the excess of your desire, but you surrendered yourself to him, longing to feel him buried deep inside of you.
he guided just the tip towards your hole, and ran it teasingly through the soaking folds of your cunt. you mewled, and clutched at his back in an attempt to get him to push into you. deciding he was greedy, he pressed the tip into you, and you let out a shocked groan.
it hurt—he was big, but you hadn’t expected it to make you tingle so much. you bit back a few tears, and let him put the rest of the tip in. you were so tight, he couldn’t believe it. if you’d felt tight around his fingers, this was a whole new sensation. you were clenching around his cock, and he had barely so much as the head of it inside you.
‘too big,’ you gasped, feeling him ease his cock further in. it stung a little, the stretch slightly unpleasant. but you wanted him so bad. ‘it hurts!’
‘poor bunny,’ he mused, stroking your cheek. ‘you gotta learn to take it, like a good girl. i know you want it, bunny.’
you did, you wanted it so bad. even though it hurt, you felt your stomach knot tightly as it did when he’d rubbed your clit. he began to buck his hips, grunting at the tightness of your cunt. your walls stretched around his big cock, taking him in as best they could, slick with want and need.
‘fuck, you’re so fucking tight,’ he groaned as thrust inside of you.
more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks. he watched as you tried to fight off the feelings of pain, surrendering yourself to the pleasant feeling of fullness and his throbbing cock inside of you. he wanted nothing more than to pound into you, make you scream his name as he filled you up, but you were too delicate. he’d have to wait until you were ready, and you were special, anyways. a pretty doll just for him.
‘oh,’ you gasped as he fucked himself deeper, reaching a new angle inside of you.
the sound of your slick mingling with the slapping of his balls echoed against the walls of your room, and you clutched at his back. your desire began to brim again, edging its way up your thighs and deep into the pit of your stomach. coriolanus could hardly contain himself, you fit around him so perfectly, slick walls coating his cock as he thrust in and out.
‘fuck bunny, i don’t know how much more i can take,’ he admitted haggardly. he attempted to control his urges, but you were just so tight. what was stopping him from coming in you right then and there?
‘need you,’ you mumbled as he rutted against your hips, thrusts growing more desperate.
he moved one hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit, fingers deftly helping to unfurl the ache inside of you. you sputtered at the sensation, head spinning as he fucked you into the mattress.
he was so close, the clenching of your walls sending the blood straight to his head. he let out a final grunt, and slowed his thrusts, and felt himself come undone. he ground his cock into you, letting the thick spurts of his cum coat your walls. he came a lot, more than he’d ever done before, balls draining with what felt like every last drop.
he still continued to fuck up into you, wanting you to finish around him before he pulled out. your legs began to tremble, the feeling of his cum too much to handle, and you let out a sweet cry.
‘so good,’ you pressed your lips together, coming undone around his dock.
coriolanus pulled out, cock coated in a milky ring of your spend, his tip still red and angry from use. your body tingled, and you felt his cum trickling down between your legs. he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked, all fucked out for him, drunk on his cock.
he’d turned such a pretty innocent thing into a stupid whore, who could barely form a sentence without sighing from the excess of her pleasure.
he wondered how long he’d have to wait to go another round, and whether or not you’d let him. but you’d been so good to him that night, doing exactly what he told you and coming for him not once, but twice.
‘such a good girl for me, bunny,’ he mused, stroking your thigh. ‘and so innocent.’
#coriolanus snow#tom blyth#coriolanus snow x reader#tbosbas#hunger games#smut#coryo x reader#the hunger games#fanfic#tbosbas fanfic#tbosbas smut#the hunger games smut#the hunger games x reader#x reader#female x reader#tom blyth x reader#drabble#coriolanus snow fanfic#coriolanus snow smut#tbosbas x reader
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talk me down
3.7k / therapist!joel x f!reader
← masterlist
Summary: You’re finally ready to sit down and discuss your obvious daddy issues. Your therapist, Joel, has his methods.
Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, abuse of position (therapist!joel), discussions of parental divorce, daddy issues, praise kink, daddy kink, pet names, cursing/swearing, age gap, handjob (for a lil bit?) unprotected p in v, cockwarming (if you squint?), breathplay (I’m running out of breath typing all this are we good to go?)
A/N: this is my first fic wow how exciting, I can’t thank my new friends enough for the brainstorming and helping make it to tumblr so let’s just get on with it yeah? tell me if you want more, my requests are open x
“Oooh, fuck,” you gasp, your head coming back up to watch as his hand disappeared under the drape of your skirt. Suddenly you felt him cup your aching mound, taking in a short breath at the feeling of finally getting some much-desired pressure down there.
“So fuckin’ wet… were you this wet during our whole session, kitten?” He asked. It was sick and twisted, you knew it was. That’s why you let out a shameful little nod, your legs wanting to clench around his hand there.
He let out a disgusted scoff, you deserved it. You wanted to fuck your therapist.
“So what brings you here today?”
Your eyes shyly evade his, instead choosing to graze over the belongings of your new therapist’s office. It looked like a small library the way books were lined up and stacked on the shelves. The desk behind him was a dark oak, and everything had its place, not a pen out of line. After you deliberately ignore his question, he probes you again.
“It says on your intake form that you have... A distant relationship with your father due to your parents' divorce. Is that something you want to talk about with me today?”
His voice is sweet like honey, but you’re the only one dripping. You failed during your extended research on therapists to check his picture because you had no idea you signed up for someone so fucking handsome.
Your jaw was tight as you clamped your legs tighter together one draped over the other, trying to conceal your growing arousal. Talk, or he’ll think you’re mute!
“Yes.” You say, clearing your throat as you readjust your skirt over your lap, tugging at the hem.
You confide in Joel about the hardships of your parents growing up. The house was never quiet, always fighting, tearing each other down, and it just wasn’t healthy. You thought you’d thank the lord the day they filed for a divorce. You didn’t expect to lose the relationship you had with your father in the midst of it all.
You were still young, trying to grow up and learn, his absence mattered to you, even if it didn’t to your mother. He came around a lot at first. He’d pick you up from school and steal you away for a few hours, getting ice cream to celebrate your reunion with him.
But then, he got a new girlfriend. You weren’t sure how she managed to replace both you and your mother, but she did. You saw him less, he started not meeting your expectations. Soon, he became a weird distant memory. Now, as a young adult, you combat all the unjust things the wake of his departure caused. You couldn’t bear the thought of dating someone your age. Everyone was young and immature, asking for nudes over text after the first date if they even got your phone number at all. Now it was all just over social media or dating apps.
“Older men are just more... Refined. They have their priorities and goals, and they’re like... Actually accomplishing shit. Guys my age are just..” You paused, your eyes meeting his own to fill in the gaps.
“.. Not meeting your expectations?” Joel asked, his pen clutched in his hand as he scribbled something in his notepad.
“Right.” You let out breathily, your eyes falling to the chest hair you could see exposed by his button-up shirt.
This was a perfect example because look at Dr. Joel Miller! His Ph.D. decorated the wall with numerous other accolades on his shelves, so you knew he was smart. Being a therapist made him a good listener, you’d never have to feel like you were the therapist to a frat guy again.
You let out an involuntary whimper, a white-hot flash soaring through the pit of your stomach. You were dripping for him, and you could feel it against your clenched thighs.
“I know talking about these topics is difficult, but you’re doing a good job.” He praised you as you felt your chest and cheeks flush red with his attention.
Your breathing was staggered, you needed to release the tension between your legs desperately.
“You-- uhm, you think I’m doing a good job?”
His eyes flashed up to you with the question, something dark and tantalizing about the way he looked over you now. It was like a predator meeting prey the way his eyes began to rake over you.
Your arousal was obvious in the way your knee anxiously bounced up and down, continuing to readjust in your seat, begging for him to tell you that your time with him was up so you could go home and use your vibrator on your clit, thinking about Dr. Joel Miller between your legs.
You watched as he stood up from his chair across from you, your eyes tracking him as he nodded slowly. He clasped his hands behind his back, his strong biceps fighting the material of his shirt for dominance. The hand closest to you came down and did a delicate sweep around the rim of the chair you were sitting in.
“You’re doing great, baby girl.” He praised again, stopping to stand next to you. You were eye-level to his waist, your lips parting at the sight of the bulge in his pants. Oh, fuck me, so that’s what he’s been hiding behind his notepad.
His hand gently reached out to you, two straight fingers under your chin as he tilted you up to look at him. Your long eyelashes batted at him, teeth piercing down into your bottom lip. You let out an involuntary sigh as his hand moved up your cheek, bringing you in to rest against his thigh.
He was warm, and he smelled like Old Spice, god, you could swear it was the same one your dad used to use. You whimper at the thought, digging your face gently further into his protection. You felt his hand gently caress the back of your head, stroking back your hair from your face.
You wanted him, your pussy wanted him, and the throbbing need for his attention and affection was incurable. You began to press kisses into the material of his pants, losing all pride as you fell to your knees in front of him and palmed your hand over his growing erection.
You braved looking up at him, his face watching you in adoration, like he was proud of you.
“Is this what you want? I’ll do whatever you want.” You say meekly, desperate to please.
“You know what I think you need?” He asks, his voice dropped an octave, and it was making you purr. He was more sultry now, his hands finding yours and guiding you up off of the floor. You finally shake your head, your hands gently moving up his chest and feeling his toned pecs and broad shoulders.
Seeing him this close made your heart flutter. He was so handsome, so grown. His wispy curls were adorning the same salt and pepper as his beard. He had worn lines by his eyes and on his forehead, his curious mind must always be causing his brows to furrow. He had you breathless at the mouth and achingly wet down below.
“I think you need me to take care of you. Is that what you want, baby? Someone to show you how much they care about you? Someone to be where you need them most?” His strong hand is traveling down your front now, Joel’s pointer finger curling into the front of your skirt. Your lips part as he tugs so hard that you’re falling into him, your small hands clutching the landscape of his biceps.
“Yes-- fuck, please Joel, yes.” You nearly beg. Be there for me, be inside me.
He let out a heavy grunt of satisfaction, closing the distance between you as he cradled your face in his big hands and connected your lips. You felt safe, letting your walls fall down as he took care of you.
You melted in his hold, Joel’s tongue carefully gliding over your bottom one in a request for you to part yours for him. You followed his lead, a whimpering moan leaving you as you felt his tongue invade your mouth. He was moving you backward methodically until the back of your thighs hit the desk you previously admired. Your hips shook the frame, hearing pens and some papers clatter to the floor.
You felt overwhelmingly hot, you needed to shed some layers. Like the mind reader he was, Joel’s hands moved down to the hem of your top, breaking your heated kiss to discard the material in his way.
He generously cupped your breasts held away by your bra, another desperate moan leaving you as you watched him through hooded eyes admire your body. His hands were quick to settle on your hips, fingertips burning into your skin as he lifted you up onto the desk with ease. Fuck, he had the kind of strength that looked effortless.
Joel was taking charge, and it was so nice, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, and you didn’t have to worry about anything. His legs nudged your own open, cool air finally greeting your needy pussy. The sensation had your head falling back, accidentally breaking your kiss once more.
“Oooh, fuck,” you gasp, your head coming back up to watch as his hand disappeared under the drape of your skirt. Suddenly you felt him cup your aching mound, taking in a short breath at the feeling of finally getting some much-desired pressure down there.
“So fuckin’ wet… were you this wet during our whole session, kitten?” He asked. It was sick and twisted, you knew it was. That’s why you let out a shameful little nod, your legs wanting to clench around his hand there.
He let out a disgusted scoff, you deserved it. You wanted to fuck your therapist.
“You want daddy to take care of that for you with his cock?” His foul words had you at a loss of your own, your jaw slack as he pressed his hips into yours and you could feel his dick pressed right up against your pussy.
“Take daddy’s belt off.” He grumbled his orders, a quick nod leaving you. You didn’t want to waste his time.
“Yes.” You whimpered.
“Yes, what?” His voice was stern and articulate, making you bend your will as his close proximity flooded your senses. You couldn’t find his belt soon enough. You popped the button of his jeans and nearly tore off the zipper at his ask.
“Yes, daddy.” You whimper, a greedy smile on your lips to see you earned his favor. He adoringly cupped one side of your cheek as both of your heads rested against one another’s to watch you pull down his dark briefs.
He let out a strained grunt at the release, his flesh going to slap against his tanned stomach. He was already unbuttoning his shirt as you made a fist around him, watching his face to see how he liked it. Too fast? A little slower? Too rough... You paused and spat down on him, your eyes darting back up to his as he let out a satisfied sigh. Let me do it perfectly for you, Joel.
“So good for me.” He purred, his thumb brushing down the slope of your nose and over your swollen bottom lip that you had bruised from biting down so hard on it. He pushed the tip of his thumb past your lips, the intrusion a surprise but you eagerly sucked to appease him. The action made him swell in your hand to fullness, even beginning to feel too heavy in your hand as you continued to work over him.
“Is this all for me?” You asked eagerly, a sweet smile gracing your face.
You watched as he leaned in, your eyelashes fluttering closed as he came to press his warm lips against the crown of your head. “All for you, baby girl.” He mumbled against your forehead.
“Oh,” you let out in a sweet surprised little moan, your hand working over him eagerly faster. You didn’t care if you got off at this point, as long as he did.
“Lie back, baby.” His voice was rocky like gravel, you could already see his chest heaving at the attention of your hands. You did as he asked, but not before he unclipped your bra so your tits were on full show for him.
You reached one of your hands back, already gripping the edge of the table as you braced yourself for him. He was so large, easily the largest you had ever been with. You wanted to feel every inch of man that he was inside of your throbbing cunt.
Your skirt was merely an obstacle in his way, watching him toss it up to show your lacey panties underneath. You bit down on your lip with a wide smirk on your face, he really liked the lace.
“So fuckin pretty,” he admired, your hands coming to rest over his own, your nails gently grazing down his forearms to his fingers. His pointer finger and thumb grazed over the soaked material, admiring how he could see your pretty pussy underneath it. The lace was so dainty and fragile in his hands, he could just--
You gasp as his large hands rip the delicate lace right open, a messy opening of broken threads but now, he had unlimited access to your sex. He was so strong, you hoped he would split you open the same way.
His hands took a grip on the tops of your parted thighs from the outside, taking one foul yank as you felt him press his cock between your wet folds. You were back to gripping and stroking over his forearms, your delicate hand coming up to feel his stubbled cheek.
“Joel please, I need you.” you whimpered out, his head nodding against yours as a few of the curlier strands on his head fell onto his forehead. He was so handsome when he was turned on.
Joel’s heavy huffs broke the eye contact of his cock gliding up and down your arousal, the slick lubing him perfectly. He was perfectly glazed over now, all because of you, his heavy thumb coming down to gently circle over your throbbing clit.
You let out a cry at the much-needed attention, your walls pulsing for him to fill you up.
“Joel!” You whined out in anticipation, your jaw dropping as he finally guided his tip to you without warning and slammed into your depths until he bottomed out in one thrust. His hand was quick to clamp over your mouth, stopping you from letting out a sobbing moan as tears started to swell at the brim of your eyes.
“Don’t want anyone to hear us, princess,” His voice was broken by grunts and loose breaths, his palm swallowing your hot high pitched whines. “Or else we’ll have to stop.” You did not want him to stop!
You quickly shook your head and clasped your wrist around his which kept your mouth shut. I’ll be good, I’ll be good for you Joel. A tear slipped as you peppered apologetic kisses to the inside of his palm, your eyes desperately connecting with his in a silent ask for him to please continue fucking you.
Joel swiveled his hips back, his jeans clinging to his upper thighs as he rolled back into you. You couldn’t help but clench your eyes closed and let out a broken moan. He filled you up in all the best ways possible, he was perfect inside of you, every goddamn inch. You didn’t realize how loud you had gotten, his hand pushing your head down further into the desk and squeezing into your cheeks until you snapped out of it.
“What did fuckin’ tell you?” He punched out. God, you could feel him pulsating inside of your tight walls.
“God, this tight pussy feels so-- fuckin’ good.”
You moaned quietly at the compliment, a blissed-out smile on your lips still against his palm as he started a steady rhythm rocking into you.
You whimpered as the desk started to creak with each of his heavy thrusts, pinching your ass against the desk but he felt too good to complain. Sure, you’d have a red line imprinted on your cheeks, but hell, it was so worth it.
“Such a good fuckin’ girl, little angel for me-- fuck,” he grunted as he used the hand wrapped around your mouth as leverage, holding your head down as his hips snapped into you mercilessly. You were crying out moans into his palm, but nothing loud ever left the room, just like he wanted.
Your hands are clenching at the desk now, desperate not to fly off. Through blurry eyes, you saw his face, tight and twisted as he admired the way your breasts bounced with each of his thrusts.
You bravely reached up to take his hand around your mouth, shifting it down to wrap around your windpipe. You gave him an angelic little smile, biting down on your lower lip to hold in your dirty moans.
Joel watched you in awe, nodding with his sick little half-smirk as he started to squeeze at the sides of your throat. Fuck, he’s done this before, he knows exactly what he’s doing. The heightened experience turns you on, he’s not some 20-something idiot who cares only about getting his dick wet. Joel wants you to cum.
“You look at me baby.. fuck--, don’t break eye contact until you wanna breathe, darlin’.” His accent drawled in your ear and made your pussy even wetter for him. One of his hands squeezed at the sides of your delicate windpipe, his other hand snaking between you two as his electric fingers found your buzzing clit.
The attention was a lot, but you were a whore for it.
His thrusts grew sloppier, but he was pacing himself, Joel wants you to cum first.
You whimper at the idea of him putting you ahead of his own interested and needs, your head growing foggy as your wrist wrapped around his own that held you down but you didn’t look away from his amber eyes. He licked his lips in desire watching you, your lips parting for air as you finally looked away.
He followed through on his promise, his strong hands going lax as your head fell to the side, eyes closing in bliss while your pussy fluttered around his dick.
“Fuck baby girl,” he panted through a mumble as his spare hand massaged over your breasts. “Got me losin’ my goddamn mind.” He moaned something that resembled your name, pinching at your sensitive peaks until he had you whimpering.
“Joel I- oh god,” your stomach dropped as the tip of his dick massaged at your sweet spot, a cry threatening to spill from your lips but you knew he didn’t like you being too loud in his office so you hold it in, your cheeks going hot red.
It was all too much. Your foggy head, his hands on your sensitive bits, his fucking dick slamming into you. You felt so small in his hold, his body shielding you from the outside world as he drove you face-first into your earth-shattering orgasm.
“Joel-Joel please, fuck, I’m gonna-,” Your chin tilted up and your back arched, his hand instantly moving back up to your throat so you could feel even more floated during the crash of your orgasm.
“Cum for me princess. Cum for me now.” He demanded in a mumble.
It coursed through your body like an electric current, your body short-circuiting from the amount of pleasure it was receiving all at once.
Your lips were parted, but nothing came out. You couldn’t hear a thing, only Joel, only him as he ruts himself against your core and you feel him spill his hot cum into the depths of your sex. You lazily smirked as you made your walls flutter around him, your core pulsing. Could almost feel him in your belly.
His breaths were heavy, heavenly. It made your skin clammy, the both of you so fucked up that you were stuck in place. You didn’t realize it, but you had reached up to cup his face, your thumb gently gliding down the curve of his crooked nose. Your lips gently came together as your head came up, kissing the tip of his nose before going to lay back down on his desk.
“Oh, baby girl,” Joel purred in adoration, his mouth coming down to greet yours in a delicate kiss. “Did such a good job.” Both of you were so drunk on your orgasms, everything was so perfect.
You lazily kissed him back, your arms wrapping around the tops of his shoulders with your fingers lightly fisting the hair at the nape of his neck to keep him close as he softened inside of you. You could stay here like this forever.
You glanced over just in time, seeing the last grain of sand fall down in his glass sand timer. Your session with Dr. Joel Miller was over.
He helped you hop off his desk, your wobbly legs needing to find their strength again. His cum was already meeting the tops of your inner thighs, your face blushing at the feeling. You were quite literally gaping for him.
Joel cleared his throat and easily pulled his jeans back up to the top of his hips at his waist, securing his belt and zipper before he fisted your discarded, ripped apart panties.
“Oh,” you whispered a bit embarrassed at the sight of them. You had just finished pulling your shirt back onto your torso, stuffing your bra inside your purse. No way you were going to try and put that thing back on. You reached out for him to hand them over, your eyes widening as he pulled his hand away and stuffed them into his pocket.
“For safe keeping…” He trailed off, his eyes still dark as they looked down at your wide ones. Well, you weren’t getting those back any time soon. They were his now, your torn to threads black lace panties. You nodded and weakly smiled, still trying to catch your breath.
Joel walked you out, tapping his absentminded secretary’s desk to tell her to find something in both of your calendars for a future date.
“I think I can really help you work this out.” He told you on your way out.
As you left his office, you felt like everyone knew what you had just done. But for now, it was just a secret for you and your therapist, Joel.
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