#// and your line work gets better and better with every piece
Note
baking kitchen mess (aitana bonmatí)
Recipe For Relaxing (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)
A/N: Barca you're massive 💪
[WOSO Masterlist]
It’s been a long day.
First, your ever lovely girlfriend drank what was left of the coffee and left for an early training without even telling you.
Then your alarm clock seemingly forgot how to do its job, leaving you, still barely awake with no caffeine in sight, to scramble to make it to work on time.
The meeting you slipped into was already in motion, multiple eyes zeroing in on you as you tried to sneak in undetected. So with a healthy dose of tiredness and shame following you to your classroom, you really hoped that your rambunctious lot of third graders would magically surprise you with manners fit for royalty.
It really shouldn’t have irked you as much as it did when all twenty-five of them seemed to catch the wiggle-bug. Nobody was able to sit for more than a couple minutes without jumping or shouting what was on their minds.
By the time the clock signaled the end of the school day you were more than ready to rip out your hair. As politely as you could you wished all of your students goodbye, waving at their grinning faces as their parents herded them away.
Any hope you had at relaxing was dashed when you noticed the cars lining the street all the way up to your driveway.
Sighing, you drove a bit further away before parking on the curb, knowing better than to expect the girls to leave you a clear spot to park in your own driveway.
Mumbling under your breath you stepped over the shoes discarded carelessly by the door. Although you could hear laughter wafting from the living room, you took the side door to get a well needed beer from the fridge. As much as you loved Aitana and all twenty of her clubmates, you needed something to help rewind before even entertaining the idea of playing host.
The second your foot crosses the doorway leading into your kitchen however, you freeze. Your fingers tighten against the doorframe as you take in the sight in front of you.
Something was baking in the oven, but dirty bowls littered your counters, as did half-used ingredients. Flour covered almost every surface, even tracking throughout the ground.
Clearly the girls had never heard of leaving things as they found it.
You shut your eyes, jaw clenching so hard that you know your dentist will be giving you an earful when you see her next.
“Aitana Bonmatí Conca, what the hell did you do to my kitchen?!”
The chattering ceases instantly.
Angrily turning around, you stomp into the living room to give the girls a piece of your mind.
You’re met with wide guilty eyes, the footballers looking scolded before you even started.
“Hola bebé, you’re home early.” Aitana gives you a timid grin but you’re not amused.
Your nose flares angrily as you take another step forward. Everyone flinches when you shove a finger into Aitana’s chest. “Clean up my kitchen. Now.”
The air is silent as no one dares to move.
You quirk an eyebrow, tilting your head to make eye contact with the rest of the team. “Now! Pronto! Move your asses girls! I wanted it spotless yesterday!”
It’s like a hurricane storming when everyone scrambles up all at once. Quiet apologies are thrown your way as they pass by, everyone eager to escape your anger.
Aitana tries to sneak away with her teammates but your hand clamps down on her arm before she can even take a step.
“I love you?” she tries, deflating when she sees your unamused look.
“Aitana, babe, love of my life, I love you but you’re the bane of my existence. I’m exhausted and would love it if you could reign in the girls and not make messes for me to clean up.”
A look of determination crosses her face as Aitana nods quickly. “I will do a better job of cleaning up.”
“Thank you,” you sigh, relaxing a bit when Aitana timidly leans forward to give your forehead a soft kiss.
Your girlfriend takes it as a win when she wraps her arms around you and you instantly sink into her hold. The exhaustion from your day seemingly catches up to you as you sway dangerously, ready to go to bed despite it still being early.
Sighing, you rub at your eyes before gently pushing Aitana off of you. “Thank you for putting up with me. ‘M sorry for yelling.”
“It’s okay, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Is there anything I could do for you?”
Humming, you give her a kiss when she leans forward for one.
“Could you go get me a beer and tell the rest of the girls that they don’t have to hide in the kitchen from me?”
“I--” Aitana winces. “I think we’re out.”
When Ingrid pokes her head out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, selected by the bunch as the least likely to get her head bitten off by you, she’s met with the sight of you sitting on the couch, feet thrown up on the table as you mindlessly flip through the TV.
You hold up a stack of papers towards the Norwegian.
“Got a new team bonding activity for you heathens.”
Aitana sighs when she catches sight of the rest of her teammates with each of their own personalized shopping lists at the store down the street.
“She got you guys too?”
378 notes
·
View notes
Text
best picture
For the first time in a long time, I watched all of the movies nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars this year. Partly on a whim, partly for a piece I’ve been working on for a while about what is going wrong in contemporary artmarking. I cannot say that the experience made me feel any better or worse about contemporary movies than I already felt, which was pretty bad. But sometimes to write about a hot stove, you gotta put your hand on one. So. The nominees for coldest stove are:
Poor Things. Did not like enough to finish. I always want to like something that is making an effort at originality, strangeness, or style. Unfortunately, the execution of those things in this movie felt somehow dull and thin. Hard to explain how. Maybe the movie’s motif of things mashed together (baby-woman, duck-dog, etc) is representative. People have been mashing things together since griffins, medleys, Avatar the Last Airbender’s animals, Nickelodeon’s Catdog, etc. Thing + thing is elementary-level weird. And while there’s nothing wrong with a simple, or well-worn premise, there is a greater burden on an artist to do something interesting with it, if they go that route. And Poor Things does not. Its themes are obvious and belabored (the difficulty of self-actualization in a world that violently infantilizes you) and do not elevate the premise. There’s a fine line between the archetypal and the hackish, and this movie falls on the wrong side of it. It made me miss Crimes of the Future (2022), a recent Cronenberg that was authentically original and strange, with the execution to match.
Anatomy of a Fall. Solid, but not stunning. The baseline level of what a ‘good’ movie should be. It was written coherently and economically, despite its length. It told a story that drew you along. I wanted to know what happened, which is the least you can ask from storytelling. It had some compelling scenes that required a command of character and drama to write—particularly the big argument scene. The cinematography was not interesting, but it was not annoying either. It did its job. This was not, however, a transcendent movie.
Oppenheimer. Did not like enough to finish. But later forced myself to, just so no one could accuse me of not knowing what I was talking about when I said I disliked it. I felt like I was being pranked. The Marvel idea of what a prestige biopic should be. Like Poor Things, it telegraphed its artsiness and themes and has raked in accolades for its trouble. But obviousness is not the same as goodness and this movie is not good. The imagery is painfully literal. A character mentions something? Cut to a shot of it! No irony or nuance added by such images—just the artistry of a book report. The dialogue pathologically tells instead of shows. It constantly, cutely references things you might have heard of, the kind of desperate audience fellation you see in soulless franchise movies. Which is a particularly jarring choice given the movie’s subject matter. ‘Why didn’t you get Einstein for the Manhattan project’ Strauss asks, as if he’s saying ‘Why didn’t you get Superman for the Avengers?’ If any of this referentiality was an attempt to say something about mythologization, it failed—badly. The movie is stuffed with famous and talented actors, but it might as well not have been, given how fake every word out of their mouths sounded. Every scene felt like it had been written to sound good in a trailer, rather than to tell a damn story. All climax and no cattle.
Barbie. Did not like enough to finish. It had slightly more solidity in its execution than I was afraid it would have, so I will give it that. If people want this to be their entertainment I will let them have it. But if they want this to be their high cinema I will have to kill myself. Barbie being on this list reminds me of the midcentury decades of annual movie musical nominations for Best Picture. Sometimes deservingly. Other times, less so. The Music Man is great, but it’s not better than 8 1/2 or The Great Escape, neither of which were nominated in 1963. Musicals tend to appeal to more popular emotions, which ticket-buyers and award-givers tend to like, and critics tend to dislike. I remember how much Pauline Kael and Joan Didion hated The Sound of Music (which won in 1966), and have to ask myself if in twenty years I’ll think of my reaction to Barbie the same way that I think of those reviews: justified, but perhaps beside the point of other merits. Thing is. Say what you want about musicals, but that genre was alive back then. It was vital. Bursting with creativity. For all Kael’s bile, even she acknowledged that The Sound of Music was “well done for what it is.” [1] Contemporary cinema lacks such vitality, and Barbie is laden with symptoms of the malaise. It repeatedly falls back on references to past aesthetic successes (2001: A Space Odyssey, Singin’ in the Rain, etc) in order to have aesthetic heft. It has a car commercial in the middle. It’s about a toy from 60 years ago and politics from 10 years ago. It tries to wring some energy and meaning from all of that but not enough to cover the stench of death. I’d prefer an old musical any day.
American Fiction. Was okay. It tried to be clever about politics, but ended up being clomping about politics. At the end of the day, it just wasn’t any more interesting than any other ‘intellectual has a mid-life crisis’ story, even with the ‘twist’ of it being from a black American perspective. Even with it being somewhat self-aware of this. But it could have been a worse mid-life crisis story. The cinematography was terrible. It was shot like a sitcom. Much of the dialogue was sitcom-y too. I liked the soundtrack, what I could hear of it. The attempts at style and meta (the characters coming to life, the multiple endings) felt underdeveloped. Mostly because they were only used a couple times. In all, it felt like a first draft of a potentially more interesting movie.
The Zone of Interest.Wanted to like it more than I did. Unfortunately, you get the point within about five minutes. If you’ve seen the promotional image of the people in the garden, backgrounded by the walls of Auschwitz, then you’ve already seen the movie. Which means that all the rest of the movie ends up feeling like pretentious excess instead of moving elaboration. It seemed very aware of itself as an Important Movie and rested on those laurels, cinematically speaking, in a frustrating way. It reminded me of video art. I felt like I had stepped through a black velvet drape into the side room of a gallery, wondering at what point the video started over. And video art has its place, but it is a different medium. Moreover video art at its best, like a movie at its best, takes only the time it needs to say what it needs to say.
Past Lives. I’m a human being, and I respond to romance. I appreciate the pathos of sweet yearning and missed chances. And I understand how the romance in this movie is a synecdoche for ambivalent feelings about many kinds of life choices, particularly the choice to be an immigrant and choose one culture over another. The immigrant experience framing literalizes the way any choice can make one foreign to a past version of oneself, or the people one used to know, even if in another sense one is still the same person. So, I appreciate the emotional core of what (I believe) this movie was going for, and do think it succeeded in some respects. And yet…I was very irritated by most of its artistic choices. I found the three principal characters bland and therefore difficult to care about, sketched with only basic traits besides things like Striving and Being In Love. Why care who they’d be in another life if they have no personalities in this one? It’s fine to make characters symbols instead of humans if the symbolic tapestry of a movie is interesting and rich, but the symbolic tapestry of this movie was quite simple and straightforward. Not that that last sentence even matters much, since the movie clearly wanted you to feel for the characters as human beings, not just symbols. Visually, the cinematography was dull and diffuse, with composition that was either boring or as subtle as a hammer to the head.
Maestro. Did not like enough to finish. Something strange and wrong about this movie. It attempts to perform aesthetic mimicry with impressive precision—age makeup, accents, period cinematography—but this does not make the movie a better movie. At most it creates spectacle, at worst it creates uncanny valleys. It puts one on the lookout for irregularities, instead of allowing one to disappear into whatever the movie is doing. Something amateurishly pretentious in the execution. And not in the fun, respectable way, like a good student film. (My go-to example for a movie that has an art-school vibe in a pleasant way is The Reflecting Skin). There’s something desperate about it instead. It has the same disease as Oppenheimer, of attempting to do a biopic in a ‘stylish’ way without working on the basics first. Fat Man and Little Boy is a less overtly stylish rendition of the same subject as Oppenheimer, but far more cinematically successful to me, because it understands those basics. I would prefer to see the Fat Man and Little Boy of Leonard Bernstein’s life unless a filmmaker proves that they can do something with style beyond mimicry and flash.
The Holdovers. Did not like enough to finish. It tries to be vintage, but outside of a few moments, it does not succeed either at capturing what was good about the aesthetic it references, or at using the aesthetic in some other interesting way. The cinematography apes the tropes of movies and TV from the story’s time period, but doesn't have interesting composition in its own right. It lacks the solidity that comes from original seeing. (Contrast with something like Planet Terror, in which joyous pastiche complements the original elements.) The acting is badly directed. Too much actorliness is permitted. Much fakeness in general between the acting, writing, and visual language. If a movie with this same premise was made in the UK in the 60’s or 70's it would probably be good. As-is the movie just serves to make me sad that the ability to make such movies is apparently lost and can only be hollowly gestured at. That said, the woman who won best supporting actress did a good job. She was the only one who seemed to be actually acting.
Killers of the Flower Moon. The only possible winner. It is not my favorite of Scorsese’s movies, but compared to the rest of the lineup it wins simply by virtue of being a movie at all. How to define ‘being a movie’? Lots of things I could say that Killers of the Flower Moon has and does would also be superficially true of other movies in this cohort. Things like: it tells a story, with developed characters who drive that story. Or: it uses its medium (visuals, sound) to support its story and its themes. The difference comes down to richness, specificity, control, and a je ne sais quois that is beyond me to describe at the moment. Compare the way Killers of the Flower Moon uses a bygone cinematic style (the silent movie) to the way that Maestro and The Holdovers do. Killers of the Flower Moon uses a newsreel in its opening briefly and specifically. The sequence sets the scene historically, and gives you the necessary background with the added panache of confident cuts and music. It’s useful to the story and it’s satisfying to watch. Basics. But the movie doesn’t limit itself to that, because it’s a good movie. The sequence also sets up ideas that will be continuously developed over the course of the movie.* And here’s the kicker—the movie doesn’t linger on this sequence. You get the idea, and it moves on to even more ideas. Also compare this kind of ideating to American Fiction’s. When I said that American Fiction’s moments of style felt underdeveloped, I was thinking of movies like Killers of the Flower Moon, which weave and evolve their stylistic ideas throughout the entire runtime.
*(Visually, it places the Osage within a historical medium that the audience probably does not associate with Native Americans, or the Osage in particular. Which has a couple of different effects. First, it acts as a continuation of the gushing oil from the previous scene. It’s an interruption. A false promise. Seeming belonging and power, but framed all the while by a foreign culture. Meanwhile potentially from the perspective of that culture, it’s an intrusion on ‘their’ medium. And of course, this promise quickly decays into tragedy and death. The energy of the sequence isn’t just for its own sake—it sets up a contrast. But on a second, meta level it establishes the movie’s complicated relationship to media and storytelling. Newsreels, photos, myths, histories, police interviews, and a radio play all occur over the course of the movie. And there’s the movie Killers of the Flower Moon itself. Other people’s frames are contrasted with Mollie’s narration. There’s a repeated tension between communication as a method of knowing others and a method of controlling them—or the narrative of them—which plays out in both history and personal relationships.)
Or here’s another example: When Mollie and Ernest meet and he drives her home for the first time, we see their conversation via the car’s rearview mirrors. This is a bit of cinematic language that has its origins in mystery and paranoia. You see it in things like Hitchcock or The X-Files or film noir. By framing the scene with this convention, the movie turns what is superficially a romantic meet-cute (to quote a friend) into something bubbling with uneasiness and dread. This is not nostalgia—this is just using visuals to create effects. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen anything that uses the convention before, although knowing the pedigree might add to your enjoyment. The watchfulness suggested by the mirrors and Ernest’s cut-off face will still add an ominous effect. It works for the same reason it works in those other things. Like the newsreel, it is a specific and concise stylistic choice, and it results in a scene that is doing more than just one thing.
In general, the common thread I noticed as I watched these nominees, was the tendency to have the ‘idea’ of theme or style, and then stop there. It’s not that the movies had nothing in them. There were ideas, there was use of the medium, there was meaning to extract. There were lots of individually good moments. But they tended to feel singular, or repetitive, or tacked on. Meanwhile contemporary viewers are apparently so impressed by the mere existence of theme or style, that being able to identify it in a movie is enough to convince many that the movie is also good at those things. The problem with this tendency—in both artists and audiences—is that theme and style are not actually some extra, remarkable, inherently rarifying property of art. Theme emerges naturally from a story with any kind of coherence or perspective. And style emerges naturally from any kind of artistic attitude. They are as native as script, or narrative, or character. A movie’s theme and style might not be interesting, just like its story or dialogue might not be interesting, but if the movie is at all decent, they should exist. What makes a movie good or bad, then, is how it executes its component parts—including theme and style—in service of the whole. When theme is well-executed it is well-developed. Contemporary movies, unfortunately, seem to have confused ‘well-developed’ with ‘screamingly obvious.’ A theme does not become well-developed by repetition. It becomes well-developed by iterationand integration. Theme is like a melody. Simply repeating a single melody over and over does not result in the song becoming more interesting or entertaining. It becomes tedious. However, if you modify the melody each time you play it, or diverge from the melody and then return to it, that can get exciting. It results in different angles on the same idea, such that the idea becomes more complex over time, instead of simply louder.
Oppenheimer wasprobably the worst offender in this regard. Just repeat your water drops, crescendoing noise, or a line about ‘destroying the world’, and that’s the same as nuance, right? Split scenes into color and black and white and that’s the same as structure, right? That’s the same as actually conveying a difference between objectivity and interiority (or another dichotomy) via the drama or visual composition contained in the scenes, right? When I watched many of these movies, I kept thinking of a behind-the-scenes story from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The story goes that Joss Whedon was directing Sarah Michelle Gellar in some scene, and when the take was over he told her how great she was, and that he could see right where the music would come in. And Gellar replied that if he was thinking about the music, he clearly wasn’t getting enough from her acting alone. This conversation then supposedly informed Whedon’s approach to “The Body,” a depiction of the immediate aftermath of death that is considered one of the best episodes of television ever made, and which has no non-diegetic music whatsoever. Not to imply that music is necessarily a crutch, or to pretend that “The Body” is lacking in other forms of stylization (it is a very style-ish episode). But more to illustrate the way that it is easy to forget to make the most of all aspects of a medium, particularly the most fundamental ones, once one has gotten used to what a final product is supposed to feel like.
And that’s why most of these movies don’t feel like movies. They create the gestalt of a movie or a ‘cinematic’ moment—often literally through direct vintage imitation—without a sense of the first principles. Or demonstrating a sense of them, anyway. Who needs AI when the supposedly highest level of human filmmakers are already cannibalistically cargo-culting the medium just fine.
[1] “The Sound of Money (The Sound of Music and The Singing Nun).” The Pauline Kael Reader. (This book contains the full text of the original review, rather than the abbreviated review that I linked earlier.)
#posts: art#movies#am rusty at blogging and don't have all the virtuous nuance i would like in this but we will go with it
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tigers Prey
Warnings/kinda: degrading, harddomhongjoong, mentions of blood, names {whore, cumsleeve, cumtoy}
MINORS DNI.
Summary: y/n is known for being a trickster within their sector and ran into general Hongjoong, who started to get curious of them and ending up cornered him into a deal, but of course, it wouldn’t;t be this long if y/n won.
Word count: 11.7k words
This one is a very long one and I feel like i have missed a lot of things when it comes to warnings or tags and if so please to tell me and I will dit it and make sure everything is up to date. I wanted to make this long because I enjoy writing long and descriptive pieces of writing but I do get too off tracked and end up writing more then needed and feeling like I either started to rush or I was writing to much of a scene that I felt the need to hurry and get to the other scene before it was just more then needed to be or just less. But overall I hope you guys do enjoy it and want to read more while I try to figure out how to work tumblr and make my account fitting to my linking and reflective of my writing!
Who doesn’t love a little good menace in their sector every now and then hm? Someone who can make you laugh and feel slightly better about all of the situations that are happening around the place you have to call home, right? Well, welcome to sector 8, one of the furthest sectors from the dune empire. Where the most ruthless were known to be created here and if they ever got out of those crimson red walls it was over for everyone who was in their line of sight. During the day, it was said that the emperor would send out some generals to look over the sectors. Mainly just to come back with a daily report and see if anyone needed to be in prisoned for their actions or harsh statements against the royal house. Something not a lot of people would walk away without having a scar to tell the story, if they ever got t walk away at all. But since no one truly seems to mess with sector 8, their left alone to do as they pleased, slightly having a lot more fun than the others simply due to the fact that it takes a long time to get down here. Having to walk through the quiet yet busy streets of the first 3 sectors, then walking through sector five where all of the clothings are made by hand per request, it’s always so busy there no matter what time you go. Sector 6 is more so if hunting per says, where the spears and arrows are made, sometimes the Royal guards will come down there to get their own weapons made and crafted.
“Your getting old their old man! Come on we’re not even halfway through the sector yet!” His voice cheered as he ran with a small bag of treats. It was just some corn that he would hold over a fire in order to make popcorn at home. But that was it, something that only costed around 2 coins, 2 for a small bag and 4 for a large bag. The vendor was an old-time friend of y/n’s someone they could always joke with, and people would know it by now and never saw a problem with it. So why would anyone go out of their way in order to make it worse? “And you’re jumping around in order to move somewhere else!” The man yelled back in a Happy yet playfully annoyed the while watching y/n jump around on the dirt.
His smile was enough to make even the most stubborn of me and women smile and feel joyful. To lose that would be like losing the sun after so long of enjoying its warmth. But today was no regular day, there was no warning for it either so no one could prepare for this. But there was a. Dangerous jingle slowly getting closer to the sector, one that brought fear and made many people hold their heads down. And when the post watchers saw the man in the blood red kimono, they knew what they had to do in order to keep everyone safe. One of the smaller watchers had run to a bell, listening to the music be loud as people were banging on the drums and rang the bell, looking like it was part of the music before it was all slowly coming to a stop. Leaving the lively and busy streets to be quiet and with people holding their heads down and the large wooden gates slowly moved opened.
Showing the man with a scar over his left eye that had a whole story behind it. The tiger general, a man who looked short enough to be so king and cheerful, someone who would lend you a hand if you asked for it. Was someone who could cut you in two before you could ever begin to beg for help. His hair was was long silky black, it almost moved like water with each step he took. Being held high in a ponytail yet it still reached to his lower waist. His clothes were always clean without a speck of dust of them. Sewed to fight his body in a way that looked so tight, yet he was able to move with such ease and grace it didn’t look like a tiger but a swan. He didn’t have much of anything on him but his sword. They saw there was enough blood from his battles to make his own sword, making it the first sword made out of blood.
The sound of the bell had reached everywhere, making y/n’s smile fade before hiding with the corn vendor, yeosang. The two were around the same age. With yeosang only being a couple years older than y/n, but also more protective of him. Yeosang knew how scary the general could be and never wanted y/n to meet that fate. The vendor was towards the edge where the forest laid bare and untouched by many people. The wooden vendor looking beaten and old, but it did the job it needed to do and that was enough for yeosang. He made sure Y/N was hiding in a spot close to under it since he didn’t have a back side. There were a little hole people could hide if they weren’t supposed to be out. A spot yeosang dug up first before ever making his little vendor. “Yeosang…why- “y/n started, wanting to pout and whine before looking at the shush tester on yeosang face before letting the old rug cover up the hole underneath his feet. Everyone could hear the sound of his men behind him. The sound of the armor clanging together was enough to make everyone return back to their jobs lookin scared and worried.
“Now now why is everyone so tense? I was just hearing that amazing music and joy from back there.” The general started, showing a twisted little grin while looking at each vendor, seeing how everyone was more tensed. Shoulders were raised and they were more focused on their jobs then before. After all some had to skin the fish, some had to take out the bones, some had to peel the corn and peas, cleaning the shows and making the instruments to create such beautiful music that rang loud. But not loud enough for the royal court to hear from their home. People always used to say that the most innocent and colors are the most dangerous and poisonous to be around. One touch and smell and you’ll be dead before you can even realize it.
“Now now proud people of Dune, I won’t bite you... without a reason.” He stated, watching how some kids were staring at him, but their mothers and fathers were trying to hide them without looking fearful, some kids were still playing with a ball made out of bamboo in order to entertain themselves. “I’m just here for my daily check up, come now.” Watching his guards check the vendors, even the corn one but found nothing, just like always, right? Y/N was there, listening to his endless taunts that always had some remains of fear control with each step he took. Making a crunching sound that sounded like the bones he broke and grinned. “Sir, there is nothing strange here.” One of the guards' states, listening to the general do. A taunting clap, it was slow, yet hard and powerful. “Good for them, maybe they can get some of the leftovers too from the palace. Oh, they would love that now, wouldn’t they? He taunted, knowing that he would give them almost next to nothing. Not to be rude, but just to see who would take it in the most brutal way possible. Who was willing to kill for their next meal?
“Anyways, let’s get going, we still have people to check on, don’t we boys?” Laughing at the end of his sentence, he turned on his black heels before marching his way back home. Yeosang looked down and slowly helped y/n get out of the hole, dusting them off but still trying to keep them hidden. But the general could smell someone new here, someone who didn’t have that scent of fear but knew causing a scene was not his style, at least not in the denser sectors. But of course, what’s the fun in confronting them when everyone can see you, hear and even feel you? He has to do this in his own way, hiding his face so no one can see him and try to give up covers. But for now, he needed to head back, the tiger general simply walking back home. He preferred it more then getting on his horse and letting everyone just see him.
Plus, it helps him learn about people, he can read them better this way and even now. With those trying to hurry and get out of his way so his path is clear, he can see those with fear, lust and even excitement in their eyes. Something he grew used to after so long of being here with everyone, and having to learn about people in order to find out who’s who and what could they have possibly done in order to get on his radar in a bad way. “Yunho, when we get home, take me to San unless something happened to where the emperor needs me, alright?” looking over his shoulder with his head tilted back, looking up at the taller male.
Yunho was a man of few words when out in public, his posture was straight and stern with eyes that had no life in them. No color, no emotions in them whatsoever. His hair was kept long per the general's orders. It was kept in a long ponytail as well, the hair was always frizzy whenever he went out, some say it acts like a cat's fur or when all of the hairs stand up on your body and point to a direction. His lips were almost always in a line whenever he was out f the walls of his only home. His clothes were sewed by hand with a color as bright as the sun, with different colors like red, and a difficult orange color to get ahold of when the sheep were cold or there wasn’t enough to feed them. His sword was always kept within its obi sash. With a bright yellow tie on the handle of it. He was one of the very first that the general took in under his own rule when he was invading another kingdom years ago.
But returning back to y/n, they were sitting on the vendor table, flipping a golden coin while kicking their dirt covered feet. Watching yeosang close for the night. It was clear he was on edge, yet y/n was more so carefree, after all the generals didn’t see them so why should they be worried about him? “You’re getting yourself tensed up, it’s gonna give you away you know?” y/N started, trying to lighten the mood as they always try to do but it was clear that yeosang was more worried this Time. The guards were looking around so closely and intense that it was enough to shake him. If it was any other day he would be just fine, trying to joke around and see who can smile and just feel more relaxed as the sun started to set. “Y/N… he had Yunho with him, that alone is enough to make people want to bow to their knees and hope they don’t get dragged away for public humiliation.” Yeosang stated, letting out a stressful sigh, knowing y/n just wanted to make things better, less tense filled and more relaxed before anyone went to sleep. But it just wasn’t working.
“I know you mean well, I truly know that you do, and it makes me happy to see.” He started, looking over to his friend who had a bittersweet expression on their face, it was hard to remained positive when the threat was constantly looking at you in the eyes. With nothing more then blood lust in them in a way that would make anyone shake if they could, not even just shake but tremble even. Setting the copper coin on the table, y/n had jumped down since yeosang had blew out of the candle, it was one of the last ones on the street that was still lit. They still had to walk down the furthest side, the upper parts of the electors were for the shops and materials for those to see and to buy. The very back was where the living sections were. It was hard to be there when everyone was almost just stacked on top of each other, all squished in the three houses it took since there wasn’t enough wood t make more. Sure, they were surrounded by the forest, but if anyone were to cut from it without a Royal order, they were killed.
y/n would walk yeosang over to his bed since they were further apart, everyone had assigned beds and spaces and to switch or move without permission resulted in a slap on the back. “Get some rest and please, if you sneak out don’t you date go to far out understand? I keep hearing someone walk when I try hard enough and-“ “Yeosang you’re stressing yourself out and then you won’t be able to sleep an then you’ll be cranky in the morning before you get to close. I’ll be alright.” Yeosang could only look at his friend, something felt wrong, too wrong for him t comfortably be able to sit down and rest the way he needs to before the morning comes. Holding his blankets he watched y/n skip to the robe, since everyone was still resting or trying to fall asleep. But y/n is a night owl, why fall asleep this soon when there’s still time to kill?
Walking passed the last sector house, there stood nothing in their way. It wasn’t like they would go dar, they were simply just there, enjoying the cold and crispy air around them before taking another crunchy step forward into the think grass. The moon was covered by the clouds, yet it always made for one of the more exciting nights. Walking passed some of the taller trees, y/n was simply walking down the stone made path they made simply by leaving stone rocks so they could make their way back to the pot before it was too late, after all everyone needs to have their own little rest now, don’t they? It wouldn’t be any fun if he was just as tired as everyone else now, would it? There wasn’t much to swing from sadly and since it was dark there was no telling if anything or anyone was in the trees just watching them or if there were any traps still set by the guards. But that’s part of the thrill, isn’t it? Not knowing who or what’s out here and if anything could kill you or injure you in a way that it would take a while for anyone to see or hear you? Let alone find you. “Hm… I could’ve sworn the lake was as lot closer, why does it feel so far away now?”
Looking around and trying to listen the sounds of little water ripples, there was nothing close that could make any sound. There was only silence, too quiet. Yet there was just a pair of eyes that burned like a predator watching their prey in the dark night. Watching how helpless they look, knowing that there’s something, just someone there watching them and their every move yet trying to find their predator was the hard part. Because where are they? Are they on the ground with them? In the trees watching them like a bird would. Maybe if y/n didn’t move then no one would be able to find them, right? After all, if you stay still, they’ll hav do to look for something else if you can hide good enough, right?
This was making the person smirk watching y/n look around, it was like the moon was out and this person could see every move y/n was making. How their shirt hair was moving around in a slightly frantic manner, their eyes darting around while they simply just stood there in their torn up and dirt covered clothes. It wasn’t that far, but y/n had to get back, and so they started to walk before it turned into a jog. There was someone moving after them, making quick running sounds to sound like a tiger chasing their prey finally after waiting for what felt like hours. But just before Y/N could make it, seeing yeosang holding up a candle to try and bring them over, yeosang’s eyes filled with horror after seeing who was behind y/n/ But he couldn’t scream. Because just as y/n was tackled to the hard ground, his mouth being covered by a cloth and his body being held and squished by someone else. Someone had covered yeosang’s mouth, letting the candle fall onto the ground before they stomped on the ground. The only sounds were their muffled struggles and muffled cries as the two struggled to get free from their captors. Who could they be? Who could be here this late just waiting for something horrible to happen? For the time to strike and take them away.
Y/N was lifted up over a shoulder, his legs were tired and so were his arms, but yeosang was freer. “Try to fight and your friend will get hurt too, understand?” The guard said in yeosang’s ear, feeling the wet tears fall on his hand before yeosang quickly nodded his head, being dragged along the sides of the crimson red walls. Yeosang was panicking, he couldn’t see but this man sounded cold and serious and whoever had y/n was more ahead while he could see his body thrashing around. It was a sight he never wanted to see in his life. But why was he taken? Why wasn’t he just threatened to keep his mouth shut or he would be killed in front of y/n as a punishment for them to understand.
“Please…Please what is-“ “You wait. To speak.” The guard said, making his grip tighter around yeosang before they were walking through more sectors. People were asleep and even then, those who were awake were keeping their eyes closed. Yeosang could only whimper in the painful way, feeling his side while his lungs gasp for air. But y/n is stubborn and refuses to go without a fight, this isn’t the first time they’ve been tied up, but they can get out. It just takes time and trying to not alter the man, it could only be one, but y/n is willing to take chances, after all why give up so early and easily when there’s so much more fun to have? By the time had reached sector 4, y/n had managed to break free before jumping on the sides to jump on the wall, getting on top before looking down with adrenaline and fear in hi eyes. He looked down to see the general, with a burning passion in his eyes that would make even the scariest kids sit down and never look him in the eyes again.
The look was screaming murder, but his grin was showing interest. But he also saw yeosang under the circle shaped lantern. He was scared but he was also being dragged by a guard. Someone who was more buff then the actual general himself. His eyes were filled with tears while his body was shaking. The guard had very short hair, he was new and was able to keep his hair as short or long as he wanted to until he’s been with the general for a year, then he would have to keep it long and learn to fight with it. The guard's eyes were filled with something unlike the others. He was trying to make his eyes stone cold like the others he’s around, but it wasn’t guilt in his eyes either. His clothes were black, they had to be the training clothes that most of them had to wear. But it wasn’t the time to be staring. Yeosang was trying to shake his head, telling y/n not to do this, it’ll only make things worse for the two of them and that’s something he didn’t want for him. “Take your choice home, I get to have some fun it seems. If tell the emperor I’m playing with my prey.” He said, watching the guard not before having to throw yeosang over his shoulder before walking back.
Yeosang wanted to scream, telling y/n to stop but the grip only made him gasp for air in pain before y/n started to run along the walls. Listening to the sounds of the general getting faster and faster, but so was he. If he kept going, he would be caught in no time, having to struggling more against someone who would make it harder to move and harder to do anything in that way. So just before the arms wrapped around y/n, he had jumped down into the water. The running was fast, but it was also said to do so, by the time the general had climbed up on the wall he was already running. It was tiring but the adrenaline was pushing them through. Staying in the water and trying to hide the water bubbles, it was too dark in the night to see anyone or anything, but they needed to go. “Smart move to be under the water. I can’t see you since this water is still murky.” The general teased, walking around some before jumping down t the shallow end, slowly moving his shoes while listening and looking around.
“But someone as such as you aren’t ready for water like this. It burns your eyes awhile your lungs just…scream for air. Yet if you come up too fast for air the water will give it away before your gasp for air. You’re at a loss here, little cub.” He taunted, letting himself have a nice chuckle before walking around more, almost disappearing while walking in the water, not even making a sound. y/n’s eyes were burning, they were floating but couldn’t come out for water, not without giving up, but they were close. Feeling the dirt get closer before slowly crawling out. There weren’t any sounds coming from the water, not a drop, not a little trickle before taking off in the woods. He had to leave yeosang even If he never wanted to. But there was not getting caught today, not now and not ever. Running through the woods, yet then finally hearing the faint sounds of someone running after them. It was almost in a taunting type of way, chasing directions ever so slightly in a way that was to throw y/n off before they were tripped over a rock.
Rolling down the hill before hitting a tree, letting out a painful cry of pain before slowly opening his eyes only to see the general standing above them, not even out of breath or tired to say the slightest. If anything, all he did was a simple head tilt before crossing his arms. “I enjoy these types of people. You know how to make it fun, you almost got away from me, twice.” HE started, watching y/n try to move away, but where could they go? “Tell you what, little cub, since it’s clear you’ll just keep trying to run and get away from this, why not make a deal with me, hm?” He started, leaning down closely but not so far as to where they would tip over the edge and fall over to join them, but even then, the general is a gentleman, he sticks to his word. “Why in the hell would I trust you! You took away yeosang who literally has never done anything wrong in his own life!” y/n yelled, watching the man let out a little chuckle that sounded like a man who’s lost his own mind only to have rebuild it again.
“Well, yeosang was wanted by someone for a while but he won’t be hurt, not by hand that is. Now back to you, stalling will just make me change my mind ruin you in ways n one would live through.” He stated, softly titling his head to the side some before holding up one hand. “If you could make it back to the sector within 2 days, it would’ve been three if you waited. Then you will be let off and able to visit yeosang as you please. But if I catch you before then, you have to come with me with no fights. You’ll be my bride.” He finished, he could see the horror written all over his face, either one sounds horrible, but what would be the point if y/n was caught? Being stuck in a room like a dog waiting for someone to come and feed them water? “If I win, I get to see yeosang and the sector gets treated better!” “Say that and I’ll make it one more day when the sun rises. Do we have a deal?”
It took a while before y/n could respond, it was obvious anything but a yes or a no would lead to less time, soon y/n wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “One…Two…” hearing that countdown made y/n start to run, stumbling some while getting further away, only taking a left turn to hopefully throw him off, after all he still needed to get somewhere safe to rest. He only has about one day, but even then, so much can happen during that time. And that’s something the general was hoping for. After all who doesn’t enjoy a good game of cat and mouse. Running as fast as they could for a a while it was clear how far they were from home. The woods were denser, yet it was still quiet, but the sun was rising. There’s no way it could already be daytime this quick right? It was just dark, and everyone was resting!
But the day was hard, it was like every move was the last before getting caught by the general. From walking further to the trees to trying quiet, slowly moving around to find some water. Y/N was out of breath and tired, you could see some scars from falls and some bruises from the falls and crumbles, with the hopes that the general didn’t find him. But he still had to make it home, make it before anyone else could find him and take him a way. He knew the way, he just needed to turn around and make a run for it. That’s all he needed to do, and he was free from this mans twisted game. So, there he was, trying the withering piece of cloth around his waist before running through t he tall grass. Knowing he was close to home, he had to be right? He didn’t go that far like he thought he did.
His feet were burning from bleeding and all the rocks and sticks that poked him, his lungs were burning, and his stomach was growling so loud it felt like he was giving himself away it the man who was never too far but also never too close. The sky was still bright like it was just early morning, it felt like forever when not being home, not messing around with everyone and not even being with his best friend, it all was coming to and end and hopefully y/n was winning. But they couldn’t make too much noise when running, but one thing they weren’t used to, was the weight if everything crashing on them. “No…No please… I’m almost there…”
Y/N gasped, seeing everything get blurry and dizzy but he could see the sector. Where the guards were waiting and so was yeosang, who looked fearful yet almost broken. He was shaking as he saw his friend trying to emerge from the forest, but they were losing. “No…. Y/N YOUR THERE! BEHIND YOU!” He cried out before feeling the hand on his shoulders squeeze them harshly. Ignoring the people watching them since no one was allowed to help him get free, he had to get there before the general did. But he failed, and the last thing he saw was yeosang fall to his knees in pain before everything around him went dark. His body hitting the itchy grass while his feet were covered in more blood while everyone was watching. Hopping Y/N would get up and give out one last push, but there he was.
Walking behind y/n wit his hands behind his back yet that same large grin on his face while swaying side to side in a teasing way. “Oh, so close yet so far, it’s hard to run when your feet are bleeding oh that’s not good for your friend now is it, yeosang kang. Or should we change it to Choi?” The general taunted, picking up y/n like they weighed nothing and kept walking closer to the guards, all of them being men he has trained himself, all six of them. He was humming while rubbing y/n’s back in a slow manner, almost like he was waiting to dig his claws into it and tear into some of the flesh just to leave the perfect kind of marking. “After a deal is a deal and when they wake. They will be in my chambers, and I will be there to watch him. You, however, have your studies to attend to, Choi.” The general let out a twisted little chuckle once again before walking through the old village. Watching people hang their heads down with their hairs hiding their faces.
They lost two people today, one of them being someone who caused them laughter and someone who was either shy or sassy, sometimes even both. The youngest guard was holding yeosang’s hand and making them walk besides him. No one could look, but only in that sector. Once they made it passed the others of course people were staring, after all they started to think he had caught two criminals, and they were being taken a way from their sentencing. Which would be the case if the general wasn’t so interested. “Please… his feet are turning blue...” Yeosang whispered as they made it to the second sector. “Jong-ho did the little kang say something” The general asked, titling his head over while walking up the stairs leading to the crimson red doors. Jong-ho, the youngest general had looked over to yeosang, watching the older man trying to keep his shoulders high but it was hard when the stare was so…empty yet dark. Maybe it was only an act around the others, right?
“I’m not sure, did you?” he asked, looking down to the older male. “The more we stand here the more he’ll bleed, now we can’t have that now, can we?” The general was enjoying his taunts, seeing the look of fear, confusion and anger written all over yeosang’s face before walking up the stairs, allowing some of the blood to trickle down to the stairs before reaching the tall red doors. There were so many gold dots on the doors in order to make every animal that each of the 7 generals presented with the dragon above them, symbolizing the emperor. Watching the doors slowly open, the general walked inside before looking in the red eyes of the emperor. The emperor of the lakes, and the blood that runs in them. Seonghwa Park. He stood there close to the entrance, the sun slightly lighting up his honey tanned skin along with his long purple hair that seemed to only get longer as the years went. They saw so much blood was spilled on his eyes during all of the fights. His clothes were always the best, of course. A rare blue made from the closest sector, with white clothes and his favorite light blue robe to make him stand out.
“I see you’ve finally returned, Hongjoong. Nurse, attend to the…” “Bride or cup, emperor park.” Hongjoong, the general answered while letting the silent nurse slowly take the man and quickly walk over to the emergency med tent. Leaving the men to their own conversation while yeosang kept his head down, after all without permission. He wasn’t allowed to look at the powerful man in front of him, he could only listen to his chilling, yet soothing voice speak through the walls around them. “Clearly their a bride. You never play with your pretty this badly unless you want them alive under your terror.” The emperor said, watching Hongjoong walk closer to him till they were walking side by side with jong-ho tailing along, waiting for his dismissal. “Why of course, someone the people are willing to hide from me? How could I grow curious of a feisty cub who thought running form me was the smart answer?” he questioned, watching the older man smirk in approval.
“I taught you well it seems, now what about little jog-ho? You let him keep a prize?” “Oh, you know, he grew curious to know who was hiding them and had a feeling the little corn stand was a little more…loose then the others and decided to ask me a question. If he was right about the stand, he could keep the owner, and if he was wrong, I was free to punish him. Good thing he was right, hm?” Jong-ho could only nod his head in agreement, something yeosang never knew about. He was a target from the start of it all whenever they had their last visit, which was around months ago, and even when he thought he was being careful he was wrong. Maybe it’s true that none of them are human or yeosang wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. Yeosang could only look over before they stopped walking, they were inside the locked doors of the red palace, or blood palace as most call it out of the ears of those inside.
The infamous red color was everywhere, with each hall being dedicated to each member, with the largest being only for the emperor, of course. Leading to his main house where his living quarters where along with any concubine he picked. Both male and females, no one was safe from his eyes once he picked you. Hongjoong was next to his, somewhat, the tiger was painted above the hallway with eyes brighter than his own. “Jong-ho, you’re dismissed. Hongjoong, the boy has been taken to your room, you’re lucky they aren’t sick.” Hongjoong gave a deep bow before walking down the dark hallway, enjoying his to be dark and barely lit before entering his room. It was a grand room for anyone to be able to enter with his rather large circular bed in the middle.
The sheets were as white as snow, opposite of how he is rather with red covers and pillow covers to match it. After all, like this he could hear everything from every corner that there was around him. It was easier this way sine it also never messed with the wooden floors he had. To the right was a door to his bathroom that was slightly opened, he had given his maids permission to clean him, well the butlers rather. He never let the girls see what was his to see under all of those clothes. After all, why would they? His bathroom was almost as large as his own room. With a matching ceiling and floor to his own room. The tub was sunken into the floor with buckets there to let out all of the water and simply use it for the plants within the garden, after all water can never truly be wasted if someone is careful enough. There mirror was slightly large in frame, but it was there, along with wooden carved cabinets with the freshest towels for cleaning and for drying. In the hot filled water was y/n, still asleep but getting cleaned in ways he never was before.
His hair was even cleaned and picked of anything that was still left in there, like bugs, dirt, any lice if possible. He was getting scrubbed so hard anyone would find it uncomfortable, but it needed to be done, the water itself was so dirty but there was progress being made. Even his teeth were being brushed yet he was still asleep, it was estimated h would be asleep for a couple of hours, enough for everyone to get things done without a fight and having to witness the brutality of the general, something no one liked to have dealt with anymore. “We’ve cleaned him as best as we could general, this will help with his recovery.” One of the butlers said, looking over to the general's feet while scrubbing y/n back still, hearing his slow claps of approval which made everyone slow down. “Wrap him in a towel and let me dry and dress him. Afterwards someone will take his measurements and make the clothes for him, along with the dress, he will be wedded to me within this week or the next, whenever the dress is done and the flowers are ready, understood?” He said titling his head to the side and watching everyone nod while doing their request fast and the way he liked.
Soon y/n was back in his arms, still limp like a rag doll, but they were alone once more with no one to hear them, or really no one to stop them. Hongjoong was gentle with the drying part, caressing every body part and making sure it was all dry before getting them dressed in a rather large shirt, it was all he had. Letting the male rest on the round bed while he simply stared at him. To think someone like this had caught his eye after so long of not being interested in anyone, no matter who tried wit their own creative way no one was able to. Yet here he is, looking over his prey like it was too perfect to eat, but not perfect enough to spare the torture.
“So... I had lost the bet then, haven’t I?” Y/N asked one of the maids, watching them take the measurements as needed before slowly nodding her head. It was all she could say, after all what could she do? Hongjoong had ears and was on the move, listening to every word somehow being spilled among people in ways some would say is the world of a demon. “He brought you here 2 days ago to be exact.” “Two days ago? I was out that’s long?” “Your body was extremely weak due to all of the sudden movements and possible high nerves and tension. You never had the time to rest and calm down the way you needed to, when you passed out it was the only way your body was able to recover from the stress and fear of it all. Now, what color would you like the dress?” She held up a wooden board with the strings attached to it all stretched out, not giving y/n much time to recover from the shock of it all.
It was clear she had to hurry, not because she was scared but because she knew that the general would send her out if she wasn’t fast enough to get the information she needed. She had all the measurements, all the numbers needed and now she just needed the color. Which wasn’t much there could be made with the little amount of time. “Does it truly matter what color it is? Won’t he just make it a different one?” “He said this is among the few things you have control over sir. The ones on here are the ones we have enough to make the dress with.” There was blue, red, gold and purple, white was used too much for some weddings if possible and Hongjoong wasn’t going to allow such a basic color, he needed something bold, something fierce and show to show his own marking without even tainting the actual body. “Then I guess… purple will do.” y/N answered, trying to swallow the pride in his own throat while standing tall.
He lost the bet fair and square and even then, this is the home of the emperor, running away would end in death before anything could get out of those walls alive, even with a limb attached correctly still. The maid simply bowed before holding her items and leaving the room, allowing y/n to look around at the place. The windows were always uncovered to show the sky and the moon when it rose, along with the best view of the garden, well one of the best views of the garden. There was a wooden stand with Hongjoong armor on it with one of his many swords attached to it. The closet was small since he never wore much, but he had one made for y/n to be another large extension since he had an extra room, he never saw the purpose of.
“Ah, I see you’ve accepted the deal terms and didn’t put a fight. Good, good, little Choi was so worried about you. It almost made me pity you.” Hearing that voice was like a low roar brushing against someone’s ear before realizing who it was. The two met eyes and it was like a wave of dread washed over the room with y/n trying to remain unafraid, something that would only unfold in ways he never knew were possible. “A deal is a deal and I lost fair and square, what could I have done to make a difference?” “Steal a pair of shoes.” He added, walking into the room and allowing the doors to close with a loud bang as always. Watching y/n try so hard to be brave in front of him, like it will make a difference in it all. “I don’t steal from other sectors. I would’ve been taken much too early.” “And we would’ve had this part over with, don’t you think?”
His smirk was annoying, taunting at the most with a pleasure for this, he could see the anger trying to boil out, the rage of a cub trying to take on the bigger tiger to make a stand, but the cub knew better then to do so. It would mean death without fail. Hongjoong had walked closer, talking long strides over while watching y/n’s shoulders only get tenser and tender with each passing step. Till he was at their level, trying not to flinch as the general pushed some of the hair away from their eyes to be able to stare more directly into y/n’s eyes. “You have a sharp t tongue, something that can be toned to make people listen. But you don’t know when to let the venom sink in, you get too heated and tense, it’s almost like teasing a predator with their food. You give in too easily.” Hongjoong said, in a tone that was almost caring and gentle, something no one hears in public.
“But, as my partner, you’ll be able to learn when to let the drops of poison fall into the preys hands and watch them fight to survive. After all, you hav to learn how to survive me. And that’s never easy. Don’t you agree?” His eyes showed interest for once, but it was twisted, his hand was slowly wrapping around y/n’s neck and squeezing it, not enough to choke him but enough to make him gasp for air while still having a smaller airway to it. “I’ll break you so perfectly no one can put you back together, not even Choi can. You’re mine to ruin, mine to paint and mine to do as I please till, I know you’re ready. You’ll learn just like your friend will have to.”
“You’re insane general. You’re so twisted you think this will make me break? I will never.” Y/N spat back, trying to seem like he had some kind of control of the situation, but it was working, it will never work against someone like this. “Oh, but you already have my dear, you’re trying to get the high ground from me, trying to dig those baby fangs into my neck and let out venom but it’s nothing more then a tingle, a little feeling that fades away. Let me teach you.” He mentioned in a tone that no one could ever be certain was genuine, like eh would actually teach him how to be like him. Like yn would ever allow themselves to ever sink down to their level in such a way. “Now that your awake and well, we can finally start to plan things, who knows maybe even little yeosang can finally see you after having to wait so long to make sure you’re safe and sound, somewhat.”
“Y/N…” slowly turning around the two finally met after what felt like a week durning this time. Y/N was standing outside of the red gates, the look in their eyes was a mixture of dim bravery yet defeat at the same time. Wearing a simply red dressed stitched with gold jewels and bells that rang with each movement, the dress was made to fit and hug yeosang’s every curse and highlight every part that was visible for the public eyes to see, even yeosang’s birthmark under his right eye was shown for those to see but not to touch with their own hands. He was the only person allowed to visit y/n before the start of the wedding. This was the first time the two of them were meeting after so long of not ever being able to see each other due the situation. Y/N’s tired eyes reached yeosang’s own tired eyes. The bags were slightly hidden due to the blush and makeup from everywhere else. The dress was the color they requested, knitted by hand with purple with golden beads sewed into it, the front and back parts had traces of tiger claws in the designs with the gold shoulder pieces.
“We can run ourselves out of this situation, can we yeosang.” Y/N asked, seeing the look on his face answer the whole question without having to say a single word. “Y/N… of course we can’t. This isn’t out territory anymore. This is something not even I can help hide you from.” With hints of soft crackles in his voice, yeosang could only give you an air hug, since touching would mess with the dress and the jewels, and there is almost no time to fix them the way it needed to be fixed. “I have permission to walk and give you away, since we don’t have parents. But, it’s time to go. I hear the drums.” Yeosang stated, watching y/m slowly stand up straight and take a deep breath while facing the doors, watching them slowly open to revel a handful of people, the entire open yard was filled with people. Each section had a few people from every sector to witness this, and those from their sector were closer to the stairs, watching the two of them slowly walk closer and closer to the stairs.
Where jong-ho was waiting to walk the pair of them up further. The outfit Jongho wore was still black from the last time the two of them met. Since he still had to earn his own claws before getting his own suit of his choice. But he had his sword in its oba sha, tied with the golden thread before standing to the side, he had to walk behind the pair before he was allowed to do anything else for that manner. Each step was like a cracking echo within the silence that could never be drowned out no matter how many screams were heard trying to cover it. The only other sound was the drums and calls of a singer. Hongjoong had a grin no one could wipe of his face. Wearing a mixture of blue and red to match, showing the swirls of the colors that were chosen.
“Brave and prideful like a swan, yet as colorful as a poisonous creature, it’s beautiful.” With his infamous head tilt, he was enjoying this, letting his touch burn like fire while standing before those who can’t do anything about it knowing it would lead to their deaths within the hour, not even within the hour but within the seconds, no hesitation. Just a swift and quick execution for everyone to see. The vows were simply, after all, all they had to do was repeat after the emperor before it was time for the celebration between the two of them with a promise of yeosang and jongho maybe being the next ones to be wed, after a longer time period of course. Allowing the pair to be newlyweds just for a while longer and allow everyone to witness the transformation of someone they wanted to protect slowly turn into someone who grew claws and developed a taste for venom.
The celebration was grand with some trying to enjoy it, dancing to the music and quietly enjoying the food around them enough to try it forget why this was even happening within the first place. Yeosang and y/n were able to sneak away, not outside but just a place for themselves and not feeling the dead eyes of the ones who caught them in the first place. “You know, for a bastard that enjoys taunting he knows some good food choices for this.” Y/N mentioned while try eat the chicken, yeosang wanting to smack them but knew it was not the place to do so. Can’t have any watchful eyes trying to ruin their fun already. “What- you love chicken try it. I’m surprised you’re not trying to steal my piece of chicken just yet.” Yeosang could only roll his eyes before trying to take a bite. Letting the soft crunch ring in his mouth before giving y/n a light smack on the back, letting the two of them chuckle like before whenever they were teases to each other.
“I hate that you’re right and that you know I like chicken this much. You still owe me a piece of yours I hope you know that.” “Hey, you waited to late it’s almost gone!” “And I’m older than you let me have a piece!” The two kept trying not to laugh so much, this was one of the only ways they could still hav fun with each other and not feel like one of the others is slowly going insane without the other. It was hard to hide given their attire but if they could get the chance then why waste it? They needed up sharing some of the food with each other. Hanging over whatever piece of chicken had ripped off the bone and gave it to each other. “Gonna tell me if mister bear cub is vicious as he’s trying to live up to?” Curiously was getting the better of him. After all, everywhere he went, yeosang was following after and almost looked ashamed of it,
But it was like a secret, watching yeosang look around to see If either of them was around or looking for the two of them before speaking in a low voice. “You wouldn’t believe me when I tell you he doesn’t even allow himself to sleep in the same bed as me, let alone actually facing me whenever the maids get me dressed, he never looks if I don’t say anything. He still doesn’t!” it was like watching a pair of friends gossip and giggle about a crush that one of them have on someone. But of course, since yeosang doesn’t know what is true or what is an act is going to be fearful of what could happen within the walls between the two but of course this was still leaving y/n to be alone with someone who could tear them in two without any recourse whatsoever and still enjoy the screams of mercy and for help around him.
“Mister Choi and Mister Kim, the generals are waiting for you, it’s time to go.” One of the guards said, one that neither of them had much of a pleasure to meet, Choi San. Some believe that he was the older brother of jongho before learning that the two are actually from different families and different sectors. San being form sector 6, and jongho being from 5. Both with very different experiences when it came to certain things around them, but it was still fun to mess with people in public sometimes. SAN’s choice of clothes was different form most, he was known for wearing nothing more then a long black coat, showing off the ink markings he had written all over his body, not entirely but still enough to show. His chin was sharp, some say it was sharp enough to break a sword before it could kill him and that twisted look of pleasure in his dark brown eyes were strong enough for everyone to see and enjoy better then most.
“And who are you, exactly?” It slipped out of yn’s mouth, raising an eyebrow simply out of habit, watching a smirk appear on san’s face before standing up strength. “General of the west Choi San, some say I’m the shadow general. Now we can’t keep the bride and jongho waiting now, can we? You still have a duty to fulfill tonight, and he doesn’t like to wait much longer for it.” He answered, enjoying the realization hitting their faces at once leaning who they were talking to. Yeosang looking more embarrassed and looking away while standing up while San shook his head. “Now now don’t be embarrassed you two haven’t met me before. I was out of the walls and sending a message to one of the uprising empires, making sure they know who not to mess with, don’t you agree?” He still ha the smirk on his face before walking the two over to their respected partners. San didn’t have anyone to be with before bowing at the two of them and leaving, going to enjoy more drinks.
“How do you always manage to get the attention from those in stronger power when you’re being sassy?” Yeosang whispered, trying not to laugh when seeing y/n’’s face, the look of his lips and the look in his eyes, making yeosang look away while trying to make sure that nothing else was going to happen here. But it was safe for now. After all the two of them had made it to their parents and were able to stand there, feeling somewhat less tense since everyone was still here, giving a false sense of sec I try. “Now what has you grinning so much San? Already having fun with your drinks of choice?” Hongjoong asked, crossing his arms while San hummed, walking over to grab another drink of juice while shrugging his shoulders, making yn start to make another face while yeosang was trying to pinch their back. It was like two classmates looking at each other and trying not to laugh at something when the teacher is being serious about something.
“Just enjoying the night, after all we all know how the tonight will end with you two and to be quite fair, captain. I rather not be hearing that when trying to rest, we all I know it’s going to be a long while before any of us a can get some rest. Well, of course the emperor will be able to rest like nothing is happening, but the others aren’t a s lucky.” Hongjoong gaze slowly turned over to y/m who was trying to remain serious and not giving up. But their face was slowly turning into something when hearing how the night will go. It was the realization back to the real world and the current time. Once those two get into that room and their clothes are off there will be no resting for a while, only the sounds of the two newlyweds. “Goodnight captain, mister Kim.” San had given each of them their respected bows before Hongjoong slowly held y/n’s waist, guiding them back up the stairs to their own shared hallway that was soon to be changed to symbolize the two of them, and no longer just one being the general.
“You seemed to have enjoyed your time with yeosang, we couldn’t find you two for a while, I thought you tried to run again, dishonoring the deal now, were you?” It was a taunt, but also and honest question. After all the two of them were supposed to enjoy a dance before spilling, but as soon as Hongjoong let him go, y/n was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t until he sent San to go and find the two that they were able to find them. Seeing them smiling and trying to hide more facial expressions with their friend yeosang but other then that, there was nothing that the two of them were doing. “I am a lot of things, but I can honor a deal. Besides, all we did was sit together and talk.” “What about, hm?” Opening the door, Hongjoong walked them walk in and instantly be surrounded by the butlers who helped y/n get dressed slowly start to undress his bride in front of him. Slowly starting with the jewels and hairpins before just slowly going down to the ears, the neck, the wrist, the waist and the ankles. Before very carefully and slowly raking off the dress. It was weird to y/n. He wasn’t allowed to wear a suit which is something he was used to and even envisioned for his own special day. But it was today where he was in a dress instead, something he was able to pull off better than he ever thought he could.
“Why does it matter to you? Need something to tear into my before you make me unable to leave this room?” Y/N was trying to be his old self while the dress was slowly being removed to revel what was under, which was just a loose white shirt with white jeans. It was a lot to have under something so delicately made but it also needed to be taken care of. It seemed those couple of days leading up to know was wearing off on them, or y/n was prepared for what was about to come, Turing over to see that Hongjoong was getting undress while the others were closing the windows. Locking them tight before leaving with the clothes, simply leaving them by themselves before the door was locked for the outside. All it took was that slight head tilt from the general, showing his sharp teeth with a wicked grin.
“Now now where’s that mouth now? You were so busy being sassy that you forgot your place? You’re my fucking cumsleeve from now on and I will fuck and fill every hole you have.” Hongjoong groaned out, keeping one of his hands tight on y/n hair while bucking his hips with no mercy. Looking down and seeing the tears building up in the males' eyes while he struggled to breathe. Gagging with each movement with sloppy sounds being muffled Because of the length that was inside of his mouth. Hongjoong was not small, despite his height and he wasn’t thin either. He was long, and he was thick. All he could listen to be the gags and muffled cries of the male below him before deciding it was time to yank the male's hair back. Listening to the gasp for airs from the male, the coughing and the cries along with the spit coming down their Jaw. His body was bare with no clothes whatsoever, they were thrown close to the door and would be left there. His shoulders and neck were almost covered in purple and red marks with some teeth marks here and there scattered across their shaking body.
Their eyes were getting red and filled with tears, were they tears of pain? Tears of pleasure? No one would know, because Hongjoong had pushed his dick right back inside of y/n’s sore and swollen mouth. He was redder than a cherry, at least his length was, his face was dripping with sweat, not a lot but it was getting there. His eyes were filled with lust and hunger and the smirk on his face was filled with pleasure. But of course, he wasn’t going to end the night here, no he wasn’t even letting himself release the way he wanted to. “Use your fucking hands you. I want to hear you gasping for hair while trying to breathe.” Yanking them back off and watching them get to work. Y/n used both their hands and was quick to jerk off Hongjoong, watching the burning red tip twitch while their face was covered in tears while they were panting simply trying to breathe before their eyes were closed, feeling the white strings jump t their face and hearing the loud groans.
“Please…Fuck…Please.” Y/N whispered not caring if Hongjoong could before just sucking on the tip of it, jerking off the rest with their eyes closed and broken moans while feeling Hongjoongs hands run through their hair before pulling them back on his lap. Watching them gasp and look down before leaning their head up t let Hongjoong suck on their neck, leaving more purple hickey’s. His hands were being rough while squeezing whatever he could grab while listening to the moans coming from above. It was like watching the yarn come undone from someone using it to sew something.
Y/N’s hops were moving on his own above the tip, pulling his neck away and looking down at the man. His eyes being filled with pleasure and want, meeting Hongjoong’s eyes filled with hunger and desire. “Oh? You want to be used little fucktoy? Is that all you can think of now is my dick inside of there with no prep? No nothing but my dick going inside of your tight fucking hole?” Hongjoong started, watching y/n quickly move their head but knew that he needed permission, and if he rushed he wasn’t getting it. “Then beg for it. Let me hear you crumble for it and you’ll be used the way you it.” It was the last push he wanted to give, something to hear y/n say before he was going to fully make them not only be a dangerous person but also someone who crumbles under his touch whenever they want, and wherever he wanted to have it.
“Sir please…please use this fucktoy that you clearly wanted so bad that you were willing to chase for. Fuck I’m so empty I just want to fill it- oh fuck sir!” Y/n cried, shaking more whilst being thrown on the bed, their head being forced down into the sweat covered sheets, his hips were being held up in the air before he felt the pain of something going inside of their ass. The look in their eyes, it was like watching their eyes go cross eyed while their knuckles were turning white while their head was being forced up by the man behind him, listening to the sound of their hips slapping against each other while hongjoongs groans were as loud as y/n’s moans pleads. “Gods if I could you pregnant I’d have so many children the others would have to prey me off of you and even then I will fill you up till I’m done. Understand me?” Hongjoong said, feeling his release come but his hips never stopped, even when he watched y/n’s body was crumbling and shaking more, trembling so much and yet the liquid was being spilled onto the sheets and close to the floor.
It was a beautiful sight that no one could ever see, capture of even mention and it made Hongjoong simply give a sloppy kiss to him. Their tongues were being entangled into each other with drool coming down their chins with the sweat being stuck to each other, letting the slapping sounds get louder, letting the thrust get faster and harder. Leaving y/n’s bum only to get redder and redder before the pair ended up coming undone once against. Both of their body’s shaking against each other before Hongjoong leaned up straight and watched some of the juices slowly pour out before he slowly pulled out, watching the rest slowly come out while y/n was twitching. His eyes were closed yet his tired and shaking hands was slowly keeping his ass apart.
“You got filled twice and you still want this dick?” Hongjoong answered, panting but pushing himself back inside before hearing the weak sound of a broken moan, pulling out and flipping y/n on their wet back before going back inside. Holding their legs by their thighs before folding them up to their shoulders. Making sure y/n was watching Hongjoong fucking them, watching their dick go inside and out with the wet sounds and some of the juices still going around while y/n was holding his ankles. Looking from the show before to the look in hongjoongs eyes, both of their eyes were filled wit lust and want before another wet and messy kiss was being taken place. It was driving them crazy before the two had released once again, but both of their bodies were tired, drained and not being able to even move. Y.N’s body had completely fallen against the bed while Hongjoong fell on top of him. The two of them were panting, covered in sweat and cum and wanting to rest. They can shower and clean up in the morning, but Hongjoong was still inside and ended up falling asleep just the way he was. After all, why would he leave this?
Extra:
The woods were quiet, nothing else was being heard and it was quiet anyone would’ve thought someone, or something had died, and this was the way of the forest to mourn the death of it. “You’re going well dear, but you need to keep your eyes dim, the more you have emotion in them, which gives you away.” Hongjoong answered, leaning against he trees while cutting an ample before hearing the sounds f the bushes rustling before looking back to see a bunny. Confused, but then looking up to see y/n kneeling down with a smile on his face. His clothes were black now, but they were still baggy, but it was comfortable and able to be silent better within the area. His hair was long to his waist, and it was still blacker than the night sky. Watching Hongjoong give a proud yet small smirk on his face before taking a bite of the apple, putting away his dagger before keeping his arms out. Watching y/n fall down into their arms and wrapping his leg around hongjoongs waist.
“I did it! I get to choose tonight’s feast, don’t I?” They asked, watching Hongjoong grieve a playful thinking look while carrying them back the walls. “Yes dear, you do. And no, it can’t be chicken just so you and yeosang can fight over the biggest piece.” Hongjoong added, watching y’n’s smile turn somewhat dark but still happy even. “Oh, don’t worried, it won’t only be fried chicken.” “Y/N Kim, I will fuck you against one of the tresses.” “Oh, that’s a treat!” Hongjoong only rolled his eyes before looking around, they were still far from the palace before giving y/n that look. Watching their eyes lit up before getting down and turning around, holding not a tree, their clothes were always made with a little cut in the back for Hongjoong to use whenever he saw fit. Hongjoong got closer and untied his ribbon some so his pants were slightly hanging down but enough for his length to pop out before pushing in from behind.
Watching Y/N’s eyes flutter close with a quiet moan leaving their mouth while listening to the soft sounds of their hips slapping, but it was also muffled because of the clothes. “Gods you're such a whore for my dick even out in the woods.” “You made me into the best cumsleeves you ever met now, didn’t you? Ooh, sir please just right there.” Biting their lip with their eyes still closed while Hongjoong smirked with a lip bite. The two of them were known for their sex drive, the two of them would even have little quickies like this before meetings and not caring if others heard or knew about it. “Fill me up the way you like!” The cried out a little louder before letting out a pleased sigh coming from the both of them. Feeling the cum slip inside and even trickling down y/n’s thighs before the two stood up. Smiling before enjoying a heated kiss, with only tongues being used while still trying to figure out what to eat.
#hongjoong#fantasy#seonghwa#ateez san#ateez smut#gayness#fanfic#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez scenarios#yeosang#prey#mxm smut#mxm romance
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heeheehoohoo time for a random not so popular opinion✨️
Mai Trin did not need and was not looking for redemption. She made it clear through dialog, especially with Marjory, that she couldn't make up for the people she killed and the lives she ruined. She didn't particularly care enough to even properly remember names.
She joined our team not because she left the Aetherblades, but because Ankka lead a mutiny and took them from her. There was no crew aside from Ivan for her to return to. She held onto Scarlet, a woman who inspired her and spurred her on, but who was equally unapologetic about her past.
She worked with us because it would also help her make things up to Joon, which she still clearly wasn't sure if it was even possible.
She helped us because in the face of a world ending, what else do you do. She liked her fresh start in Cantha, she loved working with new tech as did Scarlet. The two found a peaceful balance, and the world ending because of Ankka was gonna ruin that.
She didn't die because she was martyring herself or looking to be forgiven and wipe the slate clean and be seen as a hero. She died because she wanted the world to keep moving like most people do, and Scarlet in her head was the only one who could turn off that power grid. Ankka just unfortunately happened to catch up to her and corner her in that moment too. It sucks, but that's just how it goes.
Ellen Kiel can suck my ass.
#i just get tired of hearing the word redemption applied to every morally grey or morally corrupt character that ever#works with the protagonist of any piece of media#redemption arcs are cool theyre great i enjoy them as much as the next person#but not every antagonist gets one and not every antagonist NEEDS one to still be an#effective ally in times of trouble#sometimes youre just firing in the same direction and its handier to work together than fail alone#and thats where i personally feel mai trin sits#ellen kiel's line at the end is just more of her normal bullshit which is why she goes on about redemption#despite never having even personally talked with mai trin since lws1#shes focused on lws1 tragedies#which mai has fully moved on from for better or worse#eod spoilers#mai trin
118 notes
·
View notes
Text
work was so bad the last couple days tho. disregarding the fun readings it was like 90% trying to fix problems that other people were just breathtakingly unwilling to fix
#I AM DOING YOUR JOB AND THREE OTHER PEOPLE'S#FUCK OFF ON ACCUSING ME OF NOT DOING IT WELL ENOUGH WHEN I AM PROVABLY DOING IT BETTER THAN YOU#me: 'these parts do not fit bc part y is too large. i measured qty x of part y at 3 locations and qty n of part m and y is out of spec'#them: 'the parts are perfect. maybe you're measuring wrong '#subsequently: 3 other people measure and find that I am correct and the parts are too big#this is by far far far not the worst thing it's just the one on top of my mind#we've had problems w part quality and inspection for SO LONG and every time I measure things and find problems I'm accused of mismeasuring#never an offer to inspect again#and then every time I am right#when i raise the alarm over supplier fabricated data I get dismissed until I literally raise it to the head of the department#when I say 'this piece is gonna fail in five years in a substantial portion of assemblies' and they're like 'you're being far too dramatic'#and then we actually do accelerated testing them and they fail in five six seven four years#not to mention the tech who. got parts to pass. by RAISING THE TOLERANCE ALLOWABLE TOLERANCE ON THE REPORT#like it is actively jeopardizing the production line to have so many parts this bad reach the floor. yield is gonna be super low#and it is also TANKING morale of everyone on the line.#people yelling and fighting#me I'm just keeping my cool while mentally (1) laying facedown on the floor and (2) eating my whole laptop#next person who attacks my work while defending shitty work can eat my entire ass#and the next person who defends THAT person. can also. eat my entire ass.#wailing and biting and gnashing of teeth#negative
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bigger Than He Was
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT
Request by @littlemiss-yeehaw: jealous!Bucky, fake dating, handjob.
Summary: Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.
Warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, handjob, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight size kink, jealous!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 7.8k
A/N: The first request I wrote from the smut menu had to be from my Tumblr best friend. Not only does she pre-read nearly everything that I post, but she keeps me from deleting my blog on a near daily basis, and she keeps me sane. I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did. If it wasn't for this girl, my blog would've been deleted before Needs & Wants was ever completed lmao.
You’ve decided that no one in the world looks more out of place than a super soldier in a grocery store. Specifically, a super soldier in the produce aisle of a small local market. He looks like a bull in a China shop as he scours through a bin of tomatoes to find ones he approves of. He holds one tomato in each of his leather gloved hands as he compares them carefully, acting like choosing between the two is every bit as difficult as deciding whether someone lives or dies in his usual line of work.
“They’re pretty much the same, Bucky, and we only need two. Just put them in a bag.” You say with a sigh, resting your elbows on the handle of the shopping cart that you’ve been pushing as you’ve trailed behind him. Though you’re the one carrying the team’s grocery list, Bucky’s been the one pulling things off of the shelves and setting them in the cart. You originally suggested each of you taking half of the list and splitting up to get the shopping done faster, and to avoid the pointless arguments and annoyances you’d face in each other’s presence, but Bucky’s only response to your idea was a furrowed brow and silence. So, you’ve been following him around with the shopping cart safely between the two of you.
�� Bucky starts to put both of the tomatoes down and pick two different ones just to bother you, but he takes the high road and bags the two he’s already holding instead. He’s usually assigned to grocery shopping with Sam, which he definitely prefers, but with Sam off to visit his family this week, he ended up being stuck with you.
“What’s next?” Bucky asks, setting the plastic bag of produce in the cart and then casting you a sideways glance. You cross tomatoes off of the small piece of paper in your hand before moving on to read the next item.
“We’re done with food items, next is ibuprofen, melatonin, and some feminine products.” You answer, lifting your gaze to meet his as you tap the pen against the piece of paper absentmindedly. Bucky nods curtly and starts leading the way down the aisle, knowing all of the aisles with medication, first aid, and toiletry type supplies are on the opposite end of the store. You follow a few feet behind him, missing your usual shopping buddy, Wanda. Though it’s a menial task, you always seem to have a fun time when the two of you are on the grocery schedule for the week. Bucky is a stark contrast to your far more bubbly, lighthearted friend.
You’re lost in thought as you turn a corner and enter the pharmacy aisle, not paying any attention as Bucky looks through various types of over-the-counter medications. It isn’t until you hear a voice one aisle over that you straighten up and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The voice sounds familiar, so familiar that you find your ears straining to hear it better so you can identify it. Is it an old friend? Someone from SHIELD? You can’t be sure, but you’re starting to think it isn’t a friend by the way your nerves seem to be rising with every incoherent word that they mutter. You leave Bucky standing at one end of the aisle as you walk ahead, trying to get closer to the source of the voice. You’re nearly at the opposite end of the aisle when suddenly, the front end of another shopping cart appears and quickly turns in front of you, almost colliding with the front end of yours. You stop abruptly for two reasons. The first reason being so you don’t cause a pileup on aisle thirteen. The second reason being because you now see whose voice was causing your heart rate to elevate and your stomach to twist into a knot. Your fucking ex-boyfriend.
“Oh, wow, hey!” The man before you extends the greeting so casually, as if he didn’t waste a year of your life with meaningless words and empty promises. He raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting over his shoulder just as a pretty blonde woman steps into view. Oh. “This is uh, this is my girlfriend.” He gestures to the woman before looking back at you with a wary glance, clearly trying to gauge how you feel about him committing to someone new so soon. The woman offers a small smile and wave as she introduces herself by name, but it all goes right over your head. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to tear your eyes away from the piece of shit behind the cart full of organic produce and a questionable amount of wine.
Bucky’s watching everything unfold from a few yards behind, acting as if he’s still deciding between a name brand bottle of ibuprofen and a generic version of the same. He gives you a few seconds to soak in the obviously awkward social situation as his eyes analyze your body language. You’re tense, your grip on the handle of the shopping cart is so tight that your knuckles are turning white. It’s been ten seconds since the woman introduced herself to you and you still haven’t uttered a word. Bucky glances to his right and notices the selection of condoms, lube, and pregnancy tests spread over the shelves next to the medication section. He only takes a second to weigh his options: let you continue to flounder in front of your shitty ex and his new victim or offer you an easy reprieve while simultaneously sending your ex into a mental spiral. His gloved hand wraps around a couple of boxes of pregnancy tests and he pulls them off of the shelf, signifying he’s chosen the latter.
“Oh, trying for a baby?” Your ex jokes when Bucky approaches from behind you and drops a handful of pregnancy tests into the cart.
“No, it’s just smart to have a few of these on hand when we only ever fuck raw. Do we know you?” Bucky’s tone is calm and even, like he’s just said something completely within the ordinary. It breaks you out of the trance you were in and you blink your eyes as you feel the heat from Bucky’s body enveloping you in warmth. He cages your body between his and the cart, his chest brushing against your back as he places his hands on either side of yours on the shopping cart handle. You don’t see the way his lips curve upward into a shit-eating grin as your ex’s face falls at both Bucky’s unfiltered words and the public display of affection he’s witnessing.
“Aren’t you…” The man addresses Bucky with slightly widened eyes and an unsure voice. You almost laugh at the effect Bucky has on the poor guy’s demeanor, and the fact that Bucky towers a few inches over the man is just icing on the cake.
“Bucky.” Your ex has just realized that not only are you grocery shopping with the Winter Soldier, but you’ve also been letting him fuck you.
---
Your week has been full of unexpected moments, but two stand out in particular. The first moment was when Bucky so calmly chose to play the role of your fake boyfriend at the grocery store three nights ago. Nearly every waking moment since then has been spent replaying it in your head, wondering why he decided to step in and do that for you, why he decided to take such a blunt approach and tell your ex that the two of you prefer unprotected sex, and how the hell he acted as if nothing happened immediately after the interaction was over. The second moment is unfolding right now. Your eyes are locked in on your phone screen as you mull over the text that’s displayed there.
Are you free tonight? Would love to sit down and catch up, want to talk about things.
You don’t have the number saved in your phone but you know exactly who it is. It’s the same shitty ex you ran into two nights ago, the same one who now thinks you’re fucking the Winter Soldier. Before you’ve even considered responding, a second message from the same unsaved number rolls in.
I’ll be at the bar we used to go to, the one off of 83rd street, in an hour. Hope to see you there.
The way your face scrunches up in confusion at the sight of the two texts on your phone screen piques Bucky’s interest as he steps off of the elevator and uses the collar of his t-shirt to dab sweat off of his neck. He’s just finished a pretty strenuous workout and had every intention of heading straight to his room to shower and spend the rest of the night in there, but he can’t ignore the feeling of some kind of invisible string tugging him in your direction. It was only two nights ago that he pressed himself against you in the grocery store and pretended like he knew what it’s like to have you in his bed. It was only two nights ago that you became a near constant thought in the back of his mind.
“Don’t tell me he texted you.” Bucky’s voice catches you off guard. You lift your gaze from your phone screen and lean back into the couch cushions, attempting to look perfectly at ease in his presence. Truth be told, you’ve been a little on edge around him since the night in the grocery store, but you don’t know why. Maybe because he saw you in such an embarrassing and vulnerable moment, in your own personal hell.
“He didn’t text me.” You lie, watching him carefully as the elevator doors close behind him and he takes the few steps across the room to reach the sectional you’re currently lounging on. It’s odd to see him sink into the opposite end of the piece of furniture so comfortably, like he’s such a normal guy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sit in the living room of his own free will, and it’s a sight to see.
“You’re a bad liar.” Bucky huffs. His expression turns thoughtful as he thinks back to his encounter with your ex that night. The corners of Bucky’s lips curl up into a smile when he remembers the way the guy practically shrank when he heard that the two of you like to fuck raw. “What does he want?” Bucky seems to have a sixth sense about this shit, so you decide to go with it and tell him the truth, see where it gets you.
“He said he wants to catch up and talk about things.”
“Right after seeing you with another guy.” Bucky points out, hoping you’ll see where this is going. You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms over your chest.
“I guess so, or maybe it’s unrelated. People break up and then discuss it later for closure sometimes, it’s a thing, Bucky.”
“So, you’re going?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” You answer honestly. You watch as Bucky nods slowly, as if he’s digesting the information and deciding what to do with it. He uses the collar of his t-shirt to wipe a bit of sweat away from his neck again, drawing your gaze down to the flexing of his bicep. You’re quick to avert your gaze back up to his eyes, but the satisfied smirk on his face tells you that he caught you looking.
“We’re going.” Bucky decides, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and running a hand through his sweaty hair. The bewildered look that takes over your face says it all.
“What the hell do you mean we’re going? There’s no we here, it’s just me.”
“I meant exactly what I said, we’re going.”
---
You stand in the garage of the compound, where everyone’s various vehicles are stored away safely. Your fingers pick at the frays of your black jeans absentmindedly as you lean against a concrete pillar, waiting for Bucky. You know you should just get in your own car and leave without him, there’s absolutely no good that will come out of letting him tag along for this. Yet, something in the back of your mind is tugging at you to stay and wait for him, to see what might come of this. Looking up at your reflection in the car window a few feet away from you, you take in the sight of your little ensemble. You’re wearing dark jeans paired with a tight little long-sleeved crop top that shows the tiniest bit of your midriff. You wanted to wear something fairly plain yet something that showed a little skin, so this is what you settled on.
Unbeknownst to you, Bucky’s outfit for tonight will go well with your own. He’s wearing dark jeans as well, but with a dark t-shirt and black leather jacket. As the elevator carries him down to the lowest floor of the compound, he has a brief second of clarity where he asks himself what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. First, he went against every rational thought in his mind when he pretended to be your boyfriend in a damn grocery store. Then, he spent two nights thinking about what it might’ve been like if he actually had been fucking you raw like he’d told to your ex he was. Those two nights ruined him. You ruined him. It took less than 48 hours for his mind to become completely preoccupied with you.
When the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open to let him into the private parking garage beneath the compound, his eyes fall on you instantly. Fuck. One look at you and he’s immediately decided that you’re not taking a car, no, you’re taking his bike. Hell, you’re dressed near-perfectly for it. The only issue is that bit of smooth skin you have showing beneath the hem of your little top, he’s not going to take you out on his bike and risk ruining that perfect skin of yours with road rash.
The ding of the elevator draws your attention to your right, where Bucky is stepping into the parking garage looking totally different than when you saw him upstairs half an hour ago. His messy hair has been washed and dried, his flesh and metal biceps are hidden within the sleeves of his leather jacket, and his neck is no longer glistening with a sheen of sweat. You’re unashamedly focusing on the way his jeans are accentuating the muscles of his thighs when he starts stripping off his leather jacket.
“Put this on.” He says as he holds the jacket out to you with one hand, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans with the other to fish out the key for his bike. Your eyes widen as you stare at the jacket in his outstretched hand. Shaking your head, you take a step back from him.
“Why?”
“Because you’re not riding on the back of my bike with skin showing, it’s not safe.”
“The back of your bike? Bucky, we’re taking a car.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky can’t ignore the way your breasts are slightly pushed up by the action, a hint of cleavage peeking out over the lowcut neckline of your top. He quickly averts his gaze back to his motorcycle that stands a few feet in front of you both, a sigh leaving his lips at your stubbornness.
“Just put on the damn jacket.” He says, looking over at you one more time, but this time with a softened expression. You don’t know why you comply and take the jacket from him, but you do. It’s warmed from his body heat when you slip your arms into it and the way it engulfs you and pulls down on your shoulders with a bit of weight is almost comforting.
The motorcycle ride to the bar, however, is anything but comforting. The only other time you’ve ever been so close to Bucky was that night at the grocery store when he cozied up behind you for show. But this felt different. This involved your chest pressed against his back, your inner thighs brushing against his hips, and your arms wrapped around his torso. This felt intimate. It felt the same way to Bucky and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard he tried. When he stopped at a redlight in the city, you let your hold around his abdomen relax for a moment. Your hands slid down to rest on the tops of his thighs as you remained pressed against his back, and he was praying for the light to turn green again before one of your hands had a chance to shift and find out how hard he was beneath the fabric of his jeans. He can only blame himself for the torture, since he was the one that insisted you take the bike.
When you turn onto the right street, you’re quick to tap Bucky’s thigh with your hand, completely missing the way he tenses up beneath your unexpected touch. You use that same hand to point to a small parking garage across the street from the bar that you’ll be heading into, and Bucky gets the signal. It’s only two minutes later that he’s parking his bike on the third floor of the garage and trying to keep his eyes off of you as you stand beside the bike, removing your helmet carefully. Some part of him can’t help but think that you’re being so careful because you want to look your best when you waltz into the bar to meet your ex, and he fucking hates it. He has the sudden urge to mess your hair up and send you in there looking like shit. But that urge only makes him think about all of the ways he could mess your hair up. He could grab you by it and pull you against him, he could run his hands through it and rake it into a ponytail while you’re on your knees for him…shit. He just volunteered to drive you to the bar to meet your ex. He can’t do a damn thing.
You hand Bucky your helmet and immediately start smoothing down your hair, seeing the look of disdain he gives you but choosing to ignore it. He had no obligation to be here with you tonight, but he insisted, so he has to put up with it.
“You don’t have to go in with me, I can do this on my own.” You say, hoping Bucky will choose to wait for you in the parking garage rather than go inside the bar with you.
“What are you planning to do?” Bucky asks, swinging his leg over as he dismounts the bike and joins you on the concrete floor. He stands in front of you, slipping his gloves off and resting them on the seat of the bike before reaching under the chin of his helmet to undo the strap there. Your eyes drift to the veins on his flesh hand and golden accents on his vibranium hand as you formulate a believable response.
“Hear him out, give him closure or whatever he’s here for.”
“Whatever he’s here for?” Bucky repeats your words almost sarcastically, scoffing beneath his helmet. When he pulls it off and rests it on the seat next to his gloves, you can see he’s scowling. “Why are you playing dumb? He’s here for you.”
“No, he isn’t. He’s with someone else now, and he thinks I am too.” You point out. A low chuckle rumbles past Bucky’s lips as he runs a hand through his hair and starts toward the concrete staircase on the other end of the floor.
“That’s exactly why he’s doing this, because he thinks you’re with someone else and he can’t stand it.” Bucky sounds so sure of himself, as if he’s experienced something like this before. In fact, he sounds so sure that it makes you wonder if he really has experienced this before.
“You think he’s jealous? You saw the girl he was with, didn’t you?” You question, falling into step next to Bucky. His leather jacket still sits heavy on your shoulders but giving it back to him hasn’t even crossed your mind yet. Bucky’s hoping you’ll forget about it and keep it on when you walk in and sit down across from that piece of shit ex you’re here for.
“She doesn’t have shit on you and he knows it.” His words leave your lips parted and your eyes widening in surprise as he reaches the staircase and starts heading down in front of you. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. For the most part, you’ve only ever heard him talk about you with an air of annoyance or indifference, but you could swear that what he just said was almost complimentary. If you could see the grimace on Bucky’s face, you’d know you were right. When he saw the blonde in the grocery store, he wanted to laugh at the way the guy had downgraded after losing you. She was pretty, sure, but you glow like the fucking sun even on your worst day.
“So, what should I be doing here tonight then?” You ask, knowing Bucky probably has a plan in mind if he came all this way just to witness what’s about to go down.
“Showing him that you don’t need him, that you’re better off without him.” You reach the bottom of the stairs and step out onto the sidewalk across from the bar. Bucky turns to face you as you scan the area for a crosswalk.
“And how do I do that?”
“For starters…” Bucky says, stepping closer to you and grabbing the front of his leather jacket that you’re still sporting, “keep this on.”
---
Bucky’s been standing at the bar for the last fifteen minutes, nursing both a beer and an aching jaw. The ache is from how hard he’s been clenching his teeth together since your ex strolled in and took the seat across from you at a little two-seater table across the room. Of course, the guy showed up without his new girl. And, of course, he’s been trying like hell to get you to smile and laugh at whatever half-assed jokes he’s been cracking since he sat down. Bucky knew the guy wasn’t after closure.
He watches with a less-than-pleased look on his face as the guy leans his elbows on the table and rests his hands a little too close to yours, but you don’t pull away. You’re sitting facing Bucky’s direction, yet you haven’t once let your eyes flit up to meet his. It’s infuriating. Bucky strains his ears to pick out your conversation through the din of the usual bar chatter around him. He listens intently as the guy tells you that it was nice to run into you at the grocery store, that he didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, that he missed the way you laughed. What a fucking ass. If Bucky remembers correctly, from overhearing gossip among the team, the guy had you nearly head over heels for him, and then one day he pulled the rug out from under you in and instant. He never even gave you much of a reason why. He simply called you up, ended the relationship over the phone, and a week later you heard through the grapevine that he’d met someone else. Why you felt compelled to meet the guy here tonight, Bucky will never understand. He doesn’t think the prick deserves even a minute of your time.
“So, you’re really seeing someone else now?” The man’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Bucky’s sensitive ears, but he continues to focus on your conversation anyway. Bucky has to know how you’ll respond. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you push a stray lock of hair back over your shoulder, over the shoulder of his leather jacket, and then you blush. Why are you blushing? Bucky’s heart starts to race in the slightest because he can’t figure out if you’re blushing at the idea of you and him being together or at your ex prying into your personal life.
“Yeah, he uh…at the grocery store, he…” You stutter through your answer. Like Bucky previously said, you’re a bad liar. The pink showing through the skin of your cheeks darkens another shade as you look away from your ex. Your eyes finally land on Bucky, who’s now standing at the bar facing you head-on. He holds your gaze assuredly and gives you a small nod, letting you know that you’re saying the right things. Somehow, just making eye contact with him and getting that small nod of approval calms your nerves.
“Right, I remember. I guess I kind of thought that was a joke.”
“A joke?” You ask, a bit offended at your ex’s confession. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck and lets out an awkward laugh before leaning back in his chair comfortably and taking a sip of his drink.
“Yeah, I mean the guy said you only ever fuck raw. You never once asked me to fuck you raw. It just didn’t sound believable.” Huh. You’re silent for a moment as you sip on your own drink and let your gaze float back to Bucky once more, unaware that he’s just heard every word that the man said. The two of you stare at each other with some kind of…tension in the air between your table and the bar. Honestly, if you and Bucky were actually together in some alternate universe where you didn’t find each other incredibly annoying from the start, you think you would love to let him fuck you without protection. Something about it just sounds so filthy and enticing. But when you imagine it with the man that’s currently sitting in front of you, the man who promised you a lifetime and then kicked you to the curb like a broken piece of furniture, you cringe. No, you never asked him to take off the condom, and you probably never would have. Truthfully, that should’ve been a sign.
Bucky’s eyes analyze the two of you as you put on a tight-lipped smile and then relax in your seat, fiddling with the zipper of the leather jacket draped around your frame.
“It didn’t sound believable?” You ask softly, looking up through your lashes in a way that makes Bucky’s cock twitch, and he’s not even the one you’re looking at. When you do flit your eyes over to him, he can sense the change in your demeanor instantly. You’re not coming off so lighthearted and timid now, you’re giving off an air that says you-don’t-know-who-the-fuck-I-am anymore. “When I look at you, I can’t even fathom the two of us having unprotected sex. It never once crossed my mind to ask you for that. But when I look at him?” You let your gaze travel over to Bucky once more, and this time your ex catches on. He turns in his chair, scanning the bar behind him until he sees the super soldier leaning against the bar with a smug smile on full display. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.”
---
Bucky’s leather jacket weighing on your shoulders, his body warmth seeping through his t-shirt and offering you reprieve from the wind that’s hitting you both head-on, his right hand reaching back to grip the side of your thigh as he weaves his bike skillfully in and out of traffic on the way back to the compound. All of those things are mixing and swirling together to create a near suffocating tension. You’re focusing on keeping your helmet from bumping into the back of his and even more than that, on keeping your mind out of the damn gutter. What you’d said back at the bar, the final thing you’d said before your ex realized he had no chance at getting back together with you, it was true. When you look at Bucky, you can’t stop imagining him fucking you without anything between your body and his. You don’t know when that started or when it might end, but it’s true. So, you left with him, climbing onto the back of his bike much more willingly than you had earlier in the evening. Not because you wanted to be close to him, but because you wanted to get home as fast as possible so you could get the hell away from him. Where on earth did this new found attraction come from? Why was your mind betraying your body with every single glance in his direction? Fuck physiology.
Bucky can almost hear you overthinking behind him as he turns off of the interstate and onto a quiet, private road leading up to the compound. Hell, he’s overthinking too. He heard what you said at the bar, and he saw the look in your eyes when you said it. Had you been thinking about him the same way he’d been thinking about you since that night at the grocery store. No, there’s no way. If you really had been, then you wouldn’t have wanted to meet up with your ex tonight. Bucky lets out a breath and slows the bike as he nears the entrance to the parking garage. Neither of you said a word when your ex stormed out of the bar, nor did either of you when you made the walk across the street to the public parking garage and started the ride back home. It’s been silent, unbearably silent for too long.
When Bucky finally parks the bike among the various vehicles owned by your friends and colleagues that reside upstairs, it seems as though you can’t get away from him fast enough. You swing your leg over and dismount the bike quickly before slipping your helmet off and taking a few steps over to the wall to set it on the shelf it originally came from. You’re halfway to the elevator when Bucky speaks, stopping you in your tracks.
“The jacket, sweetheart.” He says coolly. When you turn around, you see him still sitting on the bike, looking down at the helmet he holds in his hands. It almost bothers you that he isn’t looking back at you. He can call you sweetheart but he can’t lift his eyes to your face? You let out a deep sigh before walking back over to him and standing a foot away from him and the bike. You strip off the leather jacket a bit reluctantly before holding it out to him. You have to admit you feel a bit like you’re missing something without it on now. Bucky takes it without glancing in your direction, and as soon as you turn on your heel to walk away, you can hear him dismounting the bike and setting his own helmet on the shelf. You’ve just hit the button to call the elevator down to the garage when he decides to speak once again. “You’re a bad liar.”
“What?”
“You’re a bad liar. I don’t know much about you, but I know that.” Bucky says. You stand in front of the elevator but you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he’s speaking so ominously. You watch him carefully as he turns away from the shelf and faces you, but still doesn’t lift his gaze to meet yours. Instead, he smooths out his leather jacket before laying it over one arm and tucking the keys to his bike into the back pocket of his jeans.
“What does that have to do with anything?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes dart back to the screen above the elevator. It’s still so many floors away from reaching you.
“I knew you were lying when you told me he hadn’t texted you. I don’t even think your piece-of-shit ex believed you at first when he asked if you were really seeing someone new, you couldn’t even get a full sentence out. You’re a bad liar.” The words pour out of his mouth with ease, as if he pre-planned the entire speech. When you don’t say anything, he finally lifts his eyes to meet your narrowed stare. A shiver runs down your spine, but you blame it on the fact that you’re no longer wearing his jacket. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.” When Bucky repeats your words so perfectly, you can feel all of the color draining from your face. “When you said that, you didn’t stutter, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t lying.”
“You think I was being honest?” The question leaves your lips with a hint of anger edging each word. Bucky merely shrugs in response, tilting his head to the side as he waits for you to answer your own question, since it’s obvious that he thinks you were being honest. “You think I look at you and imagine you fucking me raw?”
“Do you?” Bucky taunts, licking his bottom lip before drawing it between his lips and pressing his top teeth into it. Your gaze darts down to his lips against your better judgement, and when your eyes settle back on his, all you see is a reflection of what you’re sure your own eyes are showing. Lust. He thinks about it. He thinks about fucking you raw. In this moment, you’re sure. In fact, he’s thinking about it right now.
Your feet start moving before you even have a moment to consider the action, they’re carrying you straight toward him, ignoring the elevator that’s just arrived to take you away from him. When you stop a few inches in front of him, he’s staring down at you with a raised brow and building anticipation. He wants your answer.
“Yes.” You breathe the word out. In an instant, Bucky’s dropping his jacket to the floor and tangling his flesh hand in the hair at the nape of your neck as his pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. It’s a kiss that takes your breath away and fills your lungs with a fiery burn, yet you don’t want to break for air. You kiss him back, moving your lips to suck along his bottom one as you tilt your head to the right to give each of you better access. Bucky languidly drags the tip of his tongue along your top lip before snaking it lower and letting it delve into your mouth. God, he might’ve imagined fucking you but truthfully, he forgot to imagine kissing you. He never would’ve thought it could be this good. His vibranium arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer into him until his body warmth begins sending tingles across the surface of your skin. Once he has you flush against him, that same cool metal hand begins unwrapping from your back and traveling down until it’s in place to grip a handful of your ass, hard. When you gasp into the kiss, Bucky pulls back and bites down on your bottom lip. Fuck. If you don’t stop him now, he won’t be able to stop himself from having you right here in the garage. As if you’re reading his mind, you place both hands on his chest and pull your head back until there’s an inch of space between your mouths. While your eyes are focused on his pink nose and swollen lips, your mind is focused on what you feel pressing against your thigh. He’s fully erect, his cock straining against the front of his jeans just from kissing you. You could overthink this, let your mind weigh all of the pros and cons of what’s happening right now, and then convince yourself to be responsible and go upstairs to your own room, pretending this never happened. But for some reason, your right hand is already coasting down his chest, over his abs, and sliding between your lower bodies. You find yourself palming the outline of his cock, offering him such a perfect amount of pressure and friction that he can’t help but lean his hips forward and press his cock further into your touch.
“If you don’t stop now…” Bucky rasps, but his eyes flutter closed and he bites down on his lower lip before he’s even finished the sentence, your sensual touch getting the better of him.
“If I don’t stop now?” You encourage him to say what he wants to say, but you can’t fight the teasing smile that’s beginning to play on your lips.
“If you don’t stop now, you won’t be able to return all of those pregnancy tests on your next grocery run.” You laugh lightly as you lean in and press a soft kiss against Bucky’s jawline, continuing to rub his erection through the taut fabric of his jeans.
“Are you thinking about fucking me raw, James?” You tease. Bucky groans before opening his eyes and pulling you away from his jaw by your hair. He doesn’t stop you from slowly sliding your hand back and forth along the outline of his cock, but he makes sure you’re looking right in his eyes before he speaks again.
“Right here in this damn parking garage.”
Without a single thought in either of your minds, Bucky lets you push your palms flat against his chest and walk him back until he stumbles onto the seat of his motorcycle. In one swift movement, you slip your hand past the waistband of his jeans and boxers and the warm skin of your hand comes into contact with his hard length, without anything between the two of you. Bucky lets out a heady groan and his hands begin moving all on their own, working to unbutton and unzip his jeans to give your hand as much space as possible. As soon as he has his pants undone, you shift your hand and wrap it firmly around his cock, giving it a slow stroke inside of his boxers. When you near the head of it, a bead of precum drips onto the side of your thumb and you smile to yourself as you spread it back over the smooth tip of his cock. What is it about having a man this way that makes a woman feel so damn powerful? Bucky looks at you with a mix of annoyance and awe at the way you’re working his cock so effortlessly yet turning him into putty in your hands. He’ll let you have your fun for now, and then he’ll show you that he can have the same effect on you.
The moment your eyes lock onto his, he slides his right hand along the side of your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss, the taste of your lips and the feel of your hand stroking back and forth along his hard-on is nearly enough to send him over the edge, and he inhales sharply, tugging his lips away from your own.
“I’m not going to have much use for those pregnancy tests if we keep going like this, am I?” You ask jokingly, as you remove your hand from Bucky’s pants and raise it up to your face. Bucky runs a hand through his hair as he blows out a breath and watches you intently. Your thumb, still a bit shiny and wet from his precum, ventures dangerously close to your mouth. You keep your eyes trained on Bucky’s as you use that same thumb to tug down your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth and sucking.
“Oh, fuck.” Bucky groans, his rationality fleeing as his own flesh hand delves into his pants and begins mimicking your actions from a moment ago. The way your eyes follow his movements, your pupils blown wide with lust as you watch him touch himself, it’s too damn much for him. He grabs you by the hair once again, in that desperate, needy way that you’re quickly growing to love, and pulls you against his chest, kissing you as fervently as the first time. However, this kiss doesn’t last. He pulls away from you in an instant and suddenly, his hand is on your shoulder, pushing you down to your knees. Before you reach the floor, he uses the toe of his boot to slide his discarded leather jacket across the floor to cushion your knees. So fucking thoughtful.
Bucky stands up with you on your knees in front of him and his bike resting on its kickstand behind him. His eyes never part from your face as he pushes his already undone pants and boxers down his thighs just enough to free his cock from their confines. Your breath hitches in your throat as soon as you lay eyes on it, as soon as you lay eyes on the sheer size of it. Bucky doesn’t make a move to stop you as you reach up with both hands and take hold of his length, using one hand to begin stroking it from the base to the tip while your other hand grips his thigh. Your eyes widen at the way it looks even bigger in your hand, which is a mental image that Bucky will probably be recalling every day for the rest of his life. You’re more than ready to lean in and take him in your mouth, to experience every second of what it’s like to suck him off, but his gentle touch halts your movements. His flesh hand softly cups the side of your face as he lets his thumb caress the skin over your cheekbone.
“You’re so much bigger than he was.” You whisper, your eyes traveling up Bucky’s torso until you’re getting lost in his gaze. It’s true. Your ex was…well below average in this department. But Bucky? God, Bucky is so far above average it’s actually making you wonder if you can even fit half of him in your mouth. Bucky chuckles lowly before tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and then copying your earlier move. He slips the pad of his thumb between your lips and watches with hooded eyes as you eagerly accept it, sucking on it gently. Fuck. He’s so ruined. Only a moment later, he’s standing there with his head thrown back and a string of curses are falling from his mouth as you bob your head back and forth, letting his cock slide along your tongue and brush against the back of your throat repeatedly. He’s fully lost in the pleasure of your mouth. He’s so lost, in fact, that when you grip his thighs with both hands and lean into him as far as you possibly can, letting your nose brush against his lower stomach and your throat tighten around his shaft as you gag, he lets out a groan that reverberates through the parking garage and sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.
“Fuck, do that again.” He rasps, finally looking down at you as you pull your head back until only the tip is resting on your tongue. A smile plays behind your eyes as you dare to look up at him. He can’t help himself. Both of his hands move to run through your hair, encouraging you to do exactly what he just said. You repeat your actions, moving your head forward and taking his entire length in until you gag a second time. But this time, Bucky holds your head still there for two seconds. His eyes squeeze shut as your throat grips his cock tighter and tighter, the sensation bringing him so close to the edge that he abruptly pulls back and leaves only half of his length for you to taste. “Just like that, shit.” Another minute of your mouth doing exactly what Bucky wants and he’s fighting with every cell in his body to delay the inevitable. He wanted to fuck you raw, truly, it was his intention from the moment you admitted you thought about it. But having you like this? Having you on your knees for him, telling him that his dick is bigger than the last piece of shit you were with? God, he’s so close to cumming in your mouth that it almost hurts.
“I’m so fucking close.” He groans the words out as if he’s in pain, as if he’s holding back because he doesn’t want to cum in your mouth. That just won’t do. So, you release him from your mouth with a pop and start working him with your hand as you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.
“You don’t want to cum in my mouth?” You ask innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. It’s the same way you looked in the bar earlier and he feels his last bit of resolve crumbling. He could easily cum in your mouth, but that’s just not what he needs right now. In that desperate, needy way that you love, Bucky grasps your hair and pulls you to your feet. A whimper leaves your lips as his cock slips out of your hand.
“No.” Bucky says calmly, turning you around and pushing your back forward until your hands land on the seat of his bike. “I’m going to give you a reason to use one of those damn pregnancy tests.”
He’s swift in pulling down your jeans and panties with both hands, and then lining his cock up with your entrance and making you think he’s going to fuck you. But no, Bucky lets the tip of his cock gather the wetness that you’ve been sitting in since you left the bar, and then he begins chasing his release with his own hand. You let out a needy whine, pushing your hips back against him and hoping his cock will just happen to notch inside of you and slide all the way in, but Bucky isn’t going to let it happen until he’s ready.
He has a plan. He’s going to fill you with his cum first, then use his fingers, his tongue, and his cock to fuck it back into you after. The next time your run into your ex, Bucky wants you to be so fucking pregnant that the guy loses his goddamn mind.
There will be no tag list for the smut menu requests.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x you#mcu#marvel#the winter soldier#winter soldier
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: Captured.
A Continuation of This Piece.
Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader x Yandere!Gojo (JJK).
Word Count: 3.3k.
TW: AFAB!Reader, Dub/Con -> Non/Con, Implied Kidnapping, Oral Sex, Threesomes, The Pervasive Aire of Homoerotica, Slight Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Violence, Intimidation, and Biting. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
He let you wait outside while he booked a room. It was a test, obviously – to see if you’d try and run as soon as he let you out of his sight. You didn’t. You kept your back pressed against the peeling cement wall and your hands in your pockets as the man at the front desk screamed, as you listened to the slick sounds of carnage and Geto’s muffled laughter. By the time he came out, his clothes dotted with dark stains and his hands lathered in the same dripping scarlet, you thought you might’ve been too sick for whatever he wanted to do with you.
He held up a hand, two keys and their accompanying plastic tags hanging from each finger. “Pick a number, one through ten.”
You just wanted to get this over with. Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about monsters or mysterious men or any of this ever again. “Eight.”
“Oh, the honeymoon suite.” Your eyes widened, and he cocked his head to the side. “Kidding, kidding. That’ll have to wait, for now.”
The room was nicer than you’d expected. Not quite the oppressively beige monstrosity you’d feared, but not as far from the eye-bleedingly pink love hotel that’d be the permanent backdrop in your worst nightmares as you would’ve liked. Currently, you were sitting on the edge of a king-sized bed with faux-velvet sheets, staring at your feet as Geto washed his hands in the in-suite bathroom. So lost in your own spiraling thoughts, you didn’t notice the water shutting off, didn’t hear him approaching you until the mattress dipped at your side and a pair of hands came to rest on either side of your waist. In one smooth, effortless motion, you were hauled into his lap, left to balance on his thigh as his eyes raked over you unabashedly. “You should try to relax. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afraid of me.” His hand fell to the hem of your sweater. You’d gotten dressed in a blind panic after waking up to an apartment crawling with those awful things, but now, you regretted not throwing on as many layers as you could, not putting as many barriers as you could between yourself and the feeling of his calloused fingers skirting over your skin. “I can help take the edge off, if you’d like.”
For the first time that day, you felt a spark of relief. “Do you have anything? I’m alright with pills.”
“I was thinking something more along the lines of…” His hand splayed over your stomach, his tone laced with a dark edge. “Choking you until you black-out, then having my way with your helpless body?”
“Oh.” Just as quickly, that spark was extinguished – crushed under an unforgiving heel and stamped into total nonexistence. “I… I think I’d rather be awake, thank you.”
He hummed, tapping two fingers against your hip. “Have it your way, little one.”
Without warning, you were thrown onto the center of the bed. Before you could haul yourself up, before you could fully realize what was going on, Geto was between your open legs, mouth latched onto the inside of your thigh and his hands tearing at your shorts. The flimsy material gave away easily, and your panties didn’t last much longer. You took back what you’d said about wearing less revealing clothes; making this take any longer than it already did would’ve been torture. As deftly as he worked, the knot of dread forming in your chest was faster, quickly overshadowing every rational thought you might’ve had in favor of telling you that you weren’t supposed to be here, that this was dangerous, that you didn’t know what was going on, that you—
His broad tongue laved over your now-exposed slit, and your panicked mind went completely blank. His mouth was hot, and he didn’t waste time, latching onto your clit and sucking before you could think to push him away. Your body, nerves fried by adrenaline and senses dialed up to the point of hypersensitivity, responded immediately, your back arching as you struggled to swallow back a fractured moan. He encouraged your reactions, laving over your clit as two of his fingers found their way to your now-dripping entrance.
His digits slipped into you without resistance, scissoring apart and splitting you open as your own hands balled around the sheets, as you locked your jaw into place and did what little you could swallow back any sounds that’d make you seem more pathetic than you already were. Your pitiful attempts at resistance earned a throaty chuckle that reverberated against your clit and made your thighs clench together. Vaguely, in the distance, you felt his hand curl around your ankle, then you were being bent in half, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he ate you out like a man starved. It was all you could do to keep your eyes shut, the tears that would’ve escaped otherwise safely locked away, to make sure you didn’t kick or thrash or do anything that’d make him decide you’d be more entertaining after you’d been half-mauled by one of his monsters. It was all you could do to keep your mind blank, to block out the terrible, wet noises rising up from between your thighs, to—
The door creaked as it swung open, and you scrambled to pull away from Geto, to cover yourself before someone saw you being brought to the brink of climax by a murderer. He held you in place, though, his grip turning vice-like as he kept you splayed-open and on-display for the familiar, white-haired stranger now standing in the doorway. “Satoru,” Geto started, still idly pumping his fingers into you. “How kind of you to join—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. You closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, Gojo had him pinned to the far wall, a small crater blown into the cement where the point of collision would’ve been. You could see an orb of blinding, blue light forming in his other hand, but Geto only clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Keep your dick in your pants, pervert,” he purred, eyes flitting to you. “There are innocents nearby.”
The orb of light disappeared, but Gojo didn’t move. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”
You watched a first form at Geto’s side, watched in a daze as his knuckles collided with Gojo’s cheek with enough force to send him flying across the room and into the side of the bed, fracturing the steel frame. “Me neither, ‘toru.”
Letting out a ragged exhale, Gojo pushed himself to his feet and their conversation devolved into a rush of blows and kicks and insults half-finished before Gojo’s fist collided with Geto’s chin or Geto caught Gojo’s throat in his teeth. Clothes were torn, blood spilled across cheap carpeting, and you blinked once, twice, before shaking your head and hauling yourself up and taking stock of the situation.
They were fighting. Eventually, one of them would probably win, and that winner would probably want to fuck you. Maybe, after that, one of them would also help you. Maybe.
Gojo caught Geto’s hair in his fist and pulled. You could’ve sworn you heard Geto moan.
Okay. Alright. Yeah. No. Fuck this, actually.
Slowly, careful not to make a sound, you stood up and pulled your sweater down to cover your still dripping cunt before inching towards the door which was, surprisingly, still in one piece (it would dawn on you later that Geto must’ve left it unlatched, if not open, much to your delayed mortification). You could figure something else out. There were two other people who knew about your monsters, which meant there must’ve been at least one more. Gojo had been wearing a uniform, when you first met him, running for your life from the mangled mess of teeth and claws that’d managed to sink its talons into you, and you thought you’d heard him mention a school. You could find someone else, someone who wouldn’t ask for sex, someone who wouldn’t know your name before you introduced yourself, someone who’d give you a protective charm or a talisman and then demand for money or unpaid labor in return. You could—
It felt like vertigo, like the surface of the Earth had shifted underneath you. Your body tilted, collapsed, and then Gojo’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed into your back and his fingers burrowed into the flesh of your side. “Trying to get away?” His voice was raspy. Geto must’ve gotten his throat. “That’s not very nice.”
“You were the one who burst in uninvited and distracted me,” Geto muttered. His lip was busted, and he cracked his nose back into place as he hauled himself up from the floor. “If you hadn’t interrupted us, they’d still be cumming on my tongue so adorably.”
Gojo didn’t seem to pay him any mind. His attention remained fixed on you, his free hand drifting to your vulnerable pussy. Using his thumb, he gathered some of the slick staining your inner thighs, toying with it as he spoke. “I thought the first time I touched you like this would be more romantic.” He paused, his ears ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Or, the first time I touched you while you were awake, at least. It… it got harder to control myself, toward the end.”
You snapped to Geto, teeth bared. “This wasn’t what we agreed to. I don’t want to—”
“Don’t talk to him.” His fingers slipped into you, curling against the walls of your cunt. Your breath hitched in your chest, and Gojo pressed a fleeting kiss into your cheek. “Don’t look at him. He’s not supposed to be here.”
“I could say the same thing about you, Satoru.” Stretching his back, he made his way back to the bed and collapsed onto it, letting out a strained groan. “If I hadn’t been so kind as to donate all of those very valuable, very hard-to-come-by curses to your pitiful cause, you would’ve waited… how long? Another year before so much as breathing the same air as your little crush?” His half-lidded stare met yours, and he smirked. “You should have a taste. The poor thing is heavenly when they’re scared.”
“He’s always been this bossy. I’m sorry you had to deal with him on your own.” Gojo drew back, but didn’t let you go. Rather, he looped an arm under your knees and pulled you off your feet, carrying you back to that fucking bed. He laid you out with more care than Geto had, but his expression remained uncannily blank. He’d been blindfolded the first time you’d met, and whatever eyewear he’d come with had been either removed or torn away, revealing eyes that were almost painfully blue. The only mercy was his hair – long enough to fall over his face and obscure his empty gaze, his parted lips. His hand drifted to your injured leg, still bandaged from the knee down, and his lips quirked downward. “I’m sorry you had to get hurt, too. But…” He smiled, leaned in until his forehead rested against yours. “It’s good that we’ll get to be together, right?”
You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell him to stop touching you, to let you go home, but you couldn’t go home, so you said nothing.
Geto let out an exaggerated yawn. “I didn’t put this little reunion together because I wanted to hear you talk, ‘toru.”
“See what I mean? So fucking bossy.” And yet, one of his hands fell away from you. You heard fabric rustle, metal clink, and then his cock was free, prodding against the inside of your thigh. You could feel your heart drop into your stomach as your eyes broke away from his and raked over his pale shaft, his flushed head, already leaking beads of ivory precum. He was tall. They were both massive, but nothing attached to a human being should’ve been that big. “You’re lucky I’m letting you watch.”
“Who said I’d be watching?” So preoccupied by your own terror, you didn’t notice Geto shifting until you felt his hands on your sides, then at the hem of your sweater, pulling your only remaining protection over your head. You scrambled to stop him, but there wouldn’t have been much you could to do fend him off at your best, let alone in the state you’d been reduced to tonight. With a breathy chuckle, he finished stripping you down, his attention immediately falling to your chest. “You wouldn’t want me leaving you alone with him, would you, little one?” He bowed his head, catching your nipple with his teeth and pulling harshly. A pained whine slipped past your lips before you could choke it back, and he turned towards Gojo, grinning. “See? They like me.”
Whatever rage Gojo felt, he managed to bury it beneath a soft smile, a pulse of pure electricity in his eyes as he took his cock in his hand, dragging the tip over your entrance. You thrashed, kicked, fought, but he only cooed as he thrust into you, like he was trying to comfort you. Like you would need to be comforted if he just stopped.
He bottomed out, his hips pressing into yours with a blissful sigh, and you lurched forward, moving to claw at his eyes, to wrap your hands around his throat, to do something. Geto caught your wrists before you could so much as touch him, though – laughing as he forced your arms flush against the mattress. As Gojo started to move in earnest, Geto slotted his lips against yours, taking advantage of your distress to force his tongue into your mouth while Gojo fucked you open, whatever gentleness he’d been attempting to show you falling away in favor of burying himself that much deeper in your tight heat. As soon as Geto pulled away, Gojo took his place, his kiss not quite as aggressive but no less invasive, no less unwelcome. You should’ve never left your apartment. You should’ve never run from your monsters. At least they might’ve been kind enough to kill you quickly.
By the time he broke away from you, your vision was spotted with black, your lungs aching from a lack of oxygen. Jerkily, he straightened his back and raised a hand, his fingers soon tangled in Geto’s hair. You watched in a daze as teeth clashed against teeth and lips collided with a bruising force, and considered the terrifying possibility that you might’ve been the first person either of them had ever kissed.
Gojo’s pace turned erratic, his hold on your hip crushing. His pelvic bone caught on your clit every time he thrust into you. You’d been able to control yourself when faced with Geto’s teasing, but now, every little cracked moan and pained whimper slid past your lips, barely audible above the sound of slick squelching and skin slapping against skin. Unwillingly, you clenched around him, and Gojo doubled over with a throaty groan, burying his face in the side of your neck. You felt his mouth on your throat, then his teeth, sinking into your skin deep enough to draw blood. You clenched your eyes shut, willing your body to go numb to the pain, to ignore the coil of pure agony winding tighter in your core, but Geto caught your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and stare up at him. “Trying to run away again so soon?”
“S-stop,” you half-sobbed, trying to pry his hand away from your face. “Don’t touch me—”
“We’ll have to bring a gag along, next time. That is, unless you learn to be more appreciative.” He shrugged his sweatpants below his waist, wrapping his fist around his cock and guiding it to your lips. “Open up, little one.”
You grit your teeth, keeping your mouth shut as tightly as you could, but Gojo bit down on your collarbone and you screamed, jerking against him. Geto took advantage of your misery, slipping a thumb into your mouth and prying your teeth apart, forcing his cock down your throat. “Bite down,” he muttered, voice low and tone sharpened, “and I’ll make sure he knocks you up.”
A wave of cold dread washed over you, but you didn’t have time to linger on your newly realized fear. Geto was already fucking your skull, already leaving you struggling not to choke as you tried to remember how to breathe around him. Where Gojo was uncontrolled, Geto almost seemed… unaffected, holding your head in place while he rolled his hips with the idle pace of a man determined to milk every second he could out of you. It was unbearable; the burning in your throat, the heat in your core, the feeling of Gojo battering into your cunt until you couldn’t stop your legs from twitching, your back from arching, your pussy from clenching around Gojo’s length and drawing a sinful noise from somewhere deep in his chest. You let out a ragged moan half-suffocated by Geto’s cock, and then you were coming undone around him, your body convulsing underneath his. Gojo wasn’t far behind. With a hitched groan, he pressed his hips into yours and pushed another open-mouthed kiss into your neck, making no attempt to pull out before flooding your pussy with something thick and awful.
Geto wasn’t far behind, his eyes falling shut as he came down your throat. For the longest time, neither of them moved, Geto forcing you to choke down every last drop of his cum while Gojo stare down at you, eyes blank and lips parted, his expression caught somewhere between tender and awe-struck.
Finally, he glanced away from you, looking to Geto instead. “Let’s switch. I want to feel their mouth.”
Geto let out a breath of a chuckle. With your body limp, your jaw slack, he pulled away from you, leaning just close enough to let his lips brush against your temple before straightening his back and moving to take Gojo’s place between your legs. “Whatever you say, lover boy.”
~
Hours later, when your skin was little more than a patchwork of hickeys and bruises and you couldn’t feel anything save for a constant, excruciating ache in your cunt, Geto had fallen asleep with his arm around your waist and Gojo laid next to you, head propped on his fist and a soft smile painted across his lips. You could see the sun starting to rise from behind the thin motel curtains, feel the dread that accompanied being in a strange place with strange men at a strange time, but it all seemed secondary, pushed to a distance by your exhaustion, your devastation. When Gojo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you out of Geto’s hold, all you could summon was a whine of protest, and even that was quickly glazed over with an airy laugh, a quiet hush.
Geto’s shirt (discarded three hours in, when he stepped aside for a shower while Gojo made you cum on his tongue for the fourth time) was pulled over your head, Gojo’s glasses (lost in the initial fight, found briefly while Geto was bouncing you on his cock with one hand and jerking Gojo off with the other, then lost again) snagged off the floor and pocketed. As he slipped out of the beaten motel door, you shut your eyes against the dim light, burying your face in his chest, and he encouraged you to, cupping the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss into your forehead. With his lips still lingering against your skin, he spoke, his voice muffled by his proximity. “It’s alright. You can sleep, if you need to.”
It might’ve been sweeter, if you hadn’t been able to feel every inch of his smile cutting into your skin.
“I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere oneshot#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen imagines#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#yandere jjk#jjk imagines#yandere geto suguru#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#yandere gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#yanderecore#yancore
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄-𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓
➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn!reader (aside from a single idiom whose origin uses masculine language/pronouns - every man for himself)
➸ SUMMARY: Against all odds, the Lieutenant accidentally falls asleep on your shoulder. Unfortunately, there are witnesses to the precarious situation (just your luck that it would be Gaz and Soap).
➸ WORD COUNT: 2k
𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄: don't poke the bear.
Danger in your line of work typically consists of trying to walk away from a mission while still being left completely intact (i.e. the goal is to make it out alive, in one piece). You’ve survived a great number of ordeals: cornered into a shootout with a dwindling supply of ammo, tiptoed your way through a field of pressure-sensitive IEDs, dove towards probable death (with an awfully high probability of splattering onto hot, concrete hell like a bug on a windshield) because your helo was sent tail spinning courtesy of a perfectly-aimed RPG – and really, the list goes on.
It's been child’s play, in the grand scheme of things. An extensive catalogue of life-or-death scenarios accounts for your entire military career. And sure, this might be a bit of a stretch, but you'd wager that none of those instances thus far have been as high-stakes as the current predicament you’ve found yourself in.
Jesus-fucking-Christ. Why’d Ghost have to fall asleep on you?
𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: avoid sitting next to him on the plane ride home. You've had to learn it the hard way.
And the kicker is that this whole thing could’ve been avoided; it didn’t have to be your problem. You could’ve sentenced any one of the other soldiers to your seat. Every man for himself, right? Get off scot-free, have a normal trip back to base with plenty of legroom so that you’re not cramped. Theoretically, it would've been beautiful – a passenger's paradise, the closest you could get to a first-class ticket.
But no.
Instead, play the Good Samaritan; extend your hand out with an act of benevolence. What’s the harm, right? So, you'd spared the poor guy, said you wouldn't mind switching places with him because he'd looked as white as a damn sheet at the idea of being crammed beside this behemoth of a lieutenant who's infamously every FNG's living nightmare.
Yeah, well hindsight is 20/20. Had you known what was going to happen, you would've had no reservations about throwing him under the bus. Sayonara, mate.
Law of the jungle, plain and simple.
To make matters worse, he is, in fact, exhibiting terrible flight etiquette. His head (which is dead weight and feels about as pleasant as a fucking bowling ball, mind you) has taken up every inch of real estate on your shoulder and is practically tucked into the curve of your neck; you’ll need to take a trip to the chiropractor’s after this – several, probably. The edge of his skull mask is digging into you. And, the cherry on top: get this – he’s man-spreading, so his left leg's trespassing into your own territory and brushing against your thigh. Utter lack of regard for personal space.
Incredible.
You’d still rather die than wake him up, though. You're not sure what'll happen if you do, but that's a risk you're not willing to take.
All things considered, an achy shoulder is a much better alternative than incurring the wrath of one angry Lieutenant. He's more subdued in this kind of context. To be completely honest, if you weren't already well-acquainted with him, you'd find it endearing.
From here, it's easy to see the simple rise and fall of his chest, steady and even. Slow inhale in, slow exhale out. He's at peace, a rhythmic lull that matches your own breathing. You can't quite put your finger on the exact moment he fell asleep. (He's got a habit of shutting his eyes and folding his arms over his chest when he isn't in the mood to converse with the other soldiers onboard. But God willing, he would never voluntarily loll his head onto your shoulder.) For what it's worth, he deserves the rest – never been one to do it this soundly as countless missions have taught you that he's usually a light sleeper. You remember him roughly prodding the toe of his boot at Soap's arm once when the Scot was conked out and his snores were a bit loud for Ghost's taste.
Rather odd then, that the Lieutenant even managed to allow himself to doze off like this. It’s too loud, too unsteady – the droning of the plane engine doesn't exactly make for good white noise and the turbulence outside is jostling the cabin around. Moreover, this puts him in a position of vulnerability, and he’s not the type to let his guard down so easily.
But somehow he did it with you beside him.
You try not to think about the implications of that.
𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄, 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄.
Because, Soap's just woken up from his nap, the first among the entire company of soldiers in the cabin still sleeping, excluding yourself. His seat's parallel to yours, straight across the walkway within direct line of sight, so he’s got an unobstructed view of you and Ghost. Soap sends a questioning glance in your direction, eyebrow quirked. A look that says, The hell's going on?
The level of your voice is down; it's at a conservative decibel to avoid rousing the others. Yet you convey your distress with the same amount of passion as if you were stuck in the middle of a losing firefight. "MacTavish, help."
Soap works with bombs for a living. Surely, he's capable of defusing situations too.
Alright the man’s a demolitions expert, but that’s semantics.
He blinks like he's trying to make sense of the situation. Though, it's pretty obvious what the problem is here. You're not sure why he’s got to take a moment and contemplate it. You need a solution, now. And he's moving at a snail's pace.
For a second, you think he might sympathize with your plight.
But then his mouth morphs into a shit-eating grin and when he nudges Gaz awake, you know right then and there that you're absolutely fucked.
More witnesses.
Great.
Because that’s just what you need, isn’t it?
Gaz drags a hand down his face. He pans over to his right to figure out why he’s been jolted awake so suddenly, and sees Soap who’s inexplicably, nauseatingly jovial before his eyes land on you.
Much like Soap’s original reaction, Gaz can’t help but offer a quizzical expression. The confusion is evident. His brows are drawn together because he knows that the L.t. wouldn't fall asleep on your shoulder.
Soap's shifting, sliding his hand into his pocket before pulling out his phone. He messes with it – a few taps here, a few swipes there. And then before you're registering what's happening, he's aiming it straight at you, like one of those mums getting a snapshot of their kids in matching jumpers during the holidays.
"Say cheese."
An indignant gasp leaves your mouth. "If you so much as—
"Soap, no. Don't do that." Gaz says from beside him, plucking the phone out of his hands. He tsks him with a click of his tongue. Stern disapproval in spades. The meaning is clear: it’s a big thumbs down from the Brit. He’s not endorsing this type of behavior. “Gone mad now, have you?” he asks in admonishment.
You release a sigh of relief. Finally, some moral support. He's reliable. Your faith in him is unshakable. Always could count on Gaz to get you out of—
"Have to shoot with a wide angle, see? Or else it'll look wonky," he corrects, flipping the phone horizontally before handing it back to Soap.
"Aye, thanks mate.”
Gaz's smile isn't as excessive as Soap's but the smirk gracing his face tells you he's relishing in your misery all the same.
Fucking traitor.
"Knobheads—"
They’d risk their own hides to save you from certain death. You've seen it in Cairo, Valencia, and Seoul. Good men. Good hearts in the right place as well. However, they're also the type to embarrass you at every opportunity – public humiliation being somewhere on that roster as well. And for that, you want to strangle them.
"Rude,” Soap comments pointedly.
"Bite me, MacTavish."
"Just wake him up if it's bothering you," Gaz supplies unhelpfully.
"If you were in my shoes, would you do it?"
"'Course, not," he snorts. "I don’t have a death wish.”
“Well, I also prefer my head on my shoulders, thank you very much," you whisper furiously, nearly hissing at him.
And Soap is admiring his handiwork, when he coos, “Aw, the two o' you make quite the pair." He briefly twists the screen so that you can catch a glimpse of it, and even from this distance, you can confirm that he's captured the shot. Annoyingly well, to add insult to injury. Angle? Spot-on. Lighting? Brilliant. It's interesting, has character. Black and white photography. He's managed to make a stunning composition and your upper lip is curling up into a sneer of disgust at his artistic eye. How infuriating.
"I'll send this to the Cap. He’ll get a kick outta it."
"Sod off."
"He'll appreciate bein' included."
Gaz matches the energy with an equally gleeful smile, now delighted by the idea. “Hey, and the L.t. he looks—”
“—cute," Soap has the audacity to finish for him.
What.
There are many words that you’d use to describe Ghost.
Cutthroat, maybe. Imposing. Glacial. Taciturn. A stringent set of ideals that makes him the perfect soldier: disciplined, honed, fierce. Intimidating, if he's not fighting on your side – someone you'd much rather have on your team than against, unless you fancied death. He can be a stone-cold terror on occasion. The man’s been penned as a walking horror story by those in the military. Given his iron-hearted demeanor, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree with that statement; there's not much room to call his steel-encased resolve into question.
So, yeah. Above all else, he's certainly not cute.
Your eyes narrow at them. "Congratulations, the both of you have officially made the top of my shitlist."
Soap, indifferent to your crisis, asks, "Want a copy for your wallpaper?"
There's another heated remark waiting on the tip of your tongue, because there's no way in hell that you would and you're ready to tell him off, about to give him an earful.
But somebody else beats you to it.
“Wipe that picture, or I’ll wring your bloody necks.”
Ice surges through your veins. Goosebumps break out across your skin. Because that voice belongs to one person. Oh, Christ. Never in a million years would you want to be on the receiving end of it.
There's anxiety warping in your chest. You're scared stiff, paralyzed with fear in a way that implores you to remain stock-still. The coarse fabric of your trousers bunches underneath your palms as you try not to freak out. This isn't your fault. None of it is.
And here's the worst part: Ghost hasn't lifted his head from your shoulder yet.
But Soap's unfazed. He blinks a couple of times, seems like he's weighing his options – as if there's something else he could choose besides following his lieutenant's command – yeah, right. He wises up, settling for a simple answer in the end. "Alright, Ghost." His smile makes a reappearance, sweet and well-meaning. Troublemaker. "Any chance you'd like a copy before I do away with it?"
"What kind of fuckin' question is that, Johnny?" he grumbles. "Obviously."
𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄:
"I take it you don't think I'm cute then. Have I got that right?"
"I'm sorry... mind repeating that again, sir?"
"You didn't have anything to say about Soap's comment."
"I have a feeling that whatever I answer will get my arse handed to me, L.t."
He's smiling in response – like sunshine trapped behind clouds. Despite it being obscured by the mask, you can see his eyes crinkling at the corners, which makes the black charcoal that's lining them begin to crease a bit. "Permission to speak freely, Sergeant. You have the floor."
Your mouth parts in surprise. Well, then. Maybe you stand corrected. And so, you appraise him momentarily, giving it some serious thought. There's more to Ghost than you give him credit for. He's terse and rough around the edges, but respected for a reason. Admirable. Someone you think highly of and has deserved your approval. The mask undeniably provides an air of intrigue. “I suppose you can be,” you start off, gradually warming up to him being more approachable. “When you’re not terrorizing the new recruits, that is.”
#i got lazy again#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#cod fic#cod mw x reader#cod mw 2#cod modern warfare#call of duty fic#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare 2#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley fluff
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
And then there were three.
Eddie munson x pregnant!reader
Summary: you and Eddie find out you're pregnant.
Warnings: fluff, talks of pregnancy, pulling out, condoms etc. Talks of sex. Kissing.
WC: 2.5k
A/n not proofread. I'm posting because it's been rotting away in my drafts. Sorry if this isn't good. I don't even remember what it's about.
18+ minors dni
"This can't be real..." You whispered to yourself as you stared blankly at the piece of plastic in your hands. Staring at two little pink lines.
Two little tiny pink lines telling you you're pregnant. How? You and Eddie have always been careful. You used protection every single time you had sex.
You've had scares in the past where your periods were weeks late. But when you ended up being over a month late this time around. You decided it was time to take a test. You had a gut feeling you might have been pregnant.
You were exhausted more so than usual. Extremely sensitive and had nausea every morning and evening. Were you surprised? No. Shocked? Yes. There was a little part of you hoping you were wrong. A baby right now just wasn't in yours and Eddie's plan.
You've only been dating for almost two years now. While having a family with him is something you do want. Getting a head start right now just wasn't ideal. You only just moved in together this past summer.
Now that you hold this little test strip in your shaking hands, you know you'll have to break the news to your boyfriend eventually. He's out in the living room watching The Golden Girls. A show you never would have guessed was his favorite. You heard his laughter echoing around the trailer during the cheesecake episode.
Was he going to be mad? Would he scream and yell at you? Blame this all on you? You thought to yourself. You felt like you were going to throw up out of nervousness.
No. Eddie wouldn't be upset with you over something like this. He isn't that type of person. No matter how others viewed him to be. He isn't like that. You can't even remember a time he raised his voice to you. You soothed yourself down, taking deep breaths.
Opening up the bathroom door, you make your way over to him.
"Hey baby, come watch." He pats the cushion next to him.
You swallow hard. "Uh, can we turn this off for a sec?"
Eddie looks up, noticing there was something very wrong with you.
"Uh, sure." He grabbed the remote, switching the tv off.
"Well, there isn't any better way to tell you this, so I'm just gonna say......I'm pregnant." You blurted out.
Eddie laughed at first. "Pregnant. Okay." He takes a sip of his beer. His laughter quickly died when you saw the serious and very scared look on your face.
"You took a test?" He gulped.
"Yeah, just a few minutes ago." You swallow another lump in your throat.
You immediately start to panic again, "We're always careful. I don't know how this happened."
Eddie stands to quickly be by your side. He hasn't really had time to process what you just told him. His immediate focus right now is calming you down.
We're careful...WE'RE ALWAYS CAREFUL!" You shouted. Your face is growing hot, and you feel like you could pass out any moment.
"You always wear a condom you fuckin' keep them in your wallet for christ sake"
"I know, baby, but I mean those things don't always work," Eddie reassured you softly, rubbing your back.
"We're always careful." You repeated again.
"Well, let's think back to when we weren't careful." He's trying to help put the pieces together. There had to have been a time when you both were so caught up in each that he didn't put on a condom or something.
"When was there a time I didn't at least wear one?"
"I dunno." You tap your fingers against your forehead. While Eddie guides you to sit down on the couch. "There had to have been a night - where - we..." You trailed off.
"My parents," you gasped loudly, snapping your fingers together.
His brows shoot up, and his eyes widen. He suddenly remembers that night very, very well. But he pulled out. He knows he did.
"When we stayed the night because of the storm" You continued on. The memory of that night flooding back to you. That was it. Eddie had promised to pull out right before he finished - yet obviously didn't do it in enough time.
There was something in the air that day. You couldn't pinpoint what it was. You had told Eddie to behave, but at dinner, you were the one misbehaving. Teasing him a little. Trying to get a rise out of him. You didn't think he was still going to be worked up even after it was time for bed. You were wrong. Very wrong.
"Huh," Eddie sounded utterly perplexed. He moves to sit down next to you. trying to bring you any amount of comfort he can offer.
"Huh what?" You repeated back to him. Why wasn't he as freaked out like you?
"Jus' the fact that I got you pregnant on a pull out couch is fucking ironic" He was in disbelief. Absolute disbelief. He knew pulling out wasn't his strong suit, but he never thought from just that one time would get you pregnant.
Was Eddie upset you were pregnant? No. Not at all. Having kids with you was something he always saw in your future together. How could he be so stupid, though? He thought. The one time he doesn't use a condom and you get knocked up.
"Are you--are you joking right now?" Your mouth hangs open. "Don't joke, please don't joke."
"Hey, hey, it's okay. Everything will be okay. " He pulls you to him. Your head lays flat against his chest. He was trying to be supportive, but on the inside he's freaking out. When he freaks out, he makes dumb jokes to lighten the mood. Something he knows he shouldn't have done, but it's too late now.
"Sooooo at yours parents place it was then." He draws out leaning forward to rest a hand under his chin.
"I guess." You murmured.
Eddie smiles fondly to himself. He most definitely remembered that day. That night, most importantly.
"....well," He perks up, jumping up to stand. He was trying to be as optimistic as possible. Truthfully, on the inside, he was freaking out. If you weren't sitting there in front of him right now, he would probably be pissing himself. Eddie knows you would be an amazing mother to his children. He most definitely knows he would be a great father, too. A complete contrast to how his father was.
"Time to make some calls." He was already heading for the phone when you panicked, running over to stop him. "We can't not yet--i need to see a doctor first."
"To make sure I am...I mean I know I am, but I need confirmation,"you further explained. Eddie just stood there listening to you and agreed as he silently nodded his head.
"Okay, well, after we see the doctor, who are we telling first? Your parents or my parent?" He was so eager to tell everyone. He was terrified, but the more he thought about it, the more excited he became. A tiny little version of you and him mashed together, running around.
"We'll tell Wayne first." You said matter of factly. You loved your parents, but you were closer to his uncle. He was like a second father to you, and you couldn't imagine anyone else knowing before him.
Eddie smiles and leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth.
"You scared?" He whispered leaning his forehead against yours.
...a-a little, but we'll be fine." You whispered back. The longer it sinks in that you're pregnant, the panic seems to fade. Eddie wasn't angry with you. He was scared you could tell but that's to be expected.
"Don't be scared, baby. We're doing this together." He reassured before kissing your lips softly again. "M'gonna take care of you both."
It's been three weeks since you took your pregnancy test and had your doctor's visit. They confirmed you were, in fact, expecting. Two months, to be exact. You were greatfull you got pregnant in the winter. Oversized sweaters and hoodies were your best friends. Now, it was time to break the news to everyone.
Eddie and you had already agreed. Wayne was going to be the first to know. You had everything planned out. You had told Eddie to call his uncle and ask if he wanted to go out for dinner. Knowing Wayne, he wasn't going to pass up on an opportunity to spend time with either of you.
You wanted to surprise him with a gift. You know Wayne has a green thumb. He loves to garden. He brags about how he has the best tomatoes in Indiana. So you took Eddie shopping for the perfect gift to give to him as a cute way to tell him you and his nephew are having a baby. You hope he'll catch on and figure out he's going to be a grandpa when he opens his present. It's a little onesie with "Home grown" embroidered on the front with little veggies.
"I like this one." You pointed at the cute little outfit on the hanger.
Eddie chuckled,reading the front. "Wayne's gonna love it. Hell won't be surprised if he tried wearing it." He joked, picking up the tiny shirt off the rack.
You giggled, "I can't wait to tell him."
"Me too, I can't keep my mouth shut for much longer." He mumbled, smirking at some of the funny sayings scribbled on the baby clothes.
The longer you came to terms with the fact that you're pregnant, your stress eased up. Sure, you were still scared, but you had Eddie and your friends. Plus your family. You reassured yourself almost daily that you'd be fine and to enjoy your pregnancy. Every single article of clothing you saw you bought. Didn't matter the color or size. If it was cute, you picked it up.
Eddie was a nervous wreck in the beginning but concealed it well. Mostly because he knew he needed to be there for you. he was also excited, too. He couldn't wait to share his hobbies with his little one. Read them bedtime stories. Sing to them at night before bed. Teach them to play an instrument or two. He looked forward to showing up to the PTA meetings in his battle vest with his sweet "mini me" on his hip.
Eddie knew he was going to be a good dad. He promised you and the baby still in your tummy every night he'd protect the both of you. He couldn't keep his hands off your belly. You weren't far along in your pregnancy, but Eddie was constantly hoping he could feel a little kick.
"We should do the dinner today." Eddie mentioned holding a handful of baby clothes.
"He might wanna to do it tomorrow since he's off."
"I'll call'em when we get home and ask. he can't say no to me." You agreed. It's true Wayne can't say no to you. Which you will take advantage of.
Later on that day after you and Eddie arrived home. You put Wayne's surprise in a little gift bag with a note attached to it.
Picking up the phone, you began dialing his number patiently, waiting for him to pick up. He should be home by now. You thought. "Hey Wayne, it's me, your favorite. I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me and Eddie tonight instead of tomorrow? "
Eddie leaned closer over in the wooden chair sat by the dining room table. He scoffs when he heard you get extatic on the other end. Knowing full well, his uncle said yes.
"You will? Okay, we'll pick you up at five o'clock sharp."
"Favorite, huh?" He crossed his arms with a smirk.
"You know it." You playfully mess up his hair as you run to your bedroom to get ready.
"Yeah, well, I've known him longer... I have seniority over him!" Eddie yelled out, teasing you.
He gets up from his chair, making his way to your shared bedroom. He stands there leaning in the doorway. Admiring you getting undressed in front of him. Taking in every curve on your figure.
Eddie moves to wrap his arms around you from behind. Pulling your back tight to his chest. His nose buried in the crook of your neck. You smiled softly, melting into his arms.
"Ya know, I was reading that baby book you bought it said something about sex helping induce labor." He whispered seductively in your ear. His lips trailing light kisses down your neck.
You turned your head."...Eddie, that's not until months from now." You let out a breathy laugh.
"Yeah, but just think about how well prepared you'll be when the time comes - kid is just gonna slide right out." Eddie argued. You know half of him is joking, and the other half is completely serious.
"Get dressed, babe. we leave in thirty minutes." You peel yourself from his tight grasp.
"Offer still stands." He holds up his hands in surrender.
Fifteen minutes went by, and there was a loud knock at your front door. His uncle had driven over so you all could ride together. After much bickering from Wayne, you all packed in Eddie's van.
Wayne refused to let Eddie drive, so it was you and him upfront with your boyfriend sulking in the backseat. Mumbling to himself about how he's not that bad and how everyone else just drives slow.
You noticed Eddie's uncle looking at the small gift bag you made up for him. His eyes kept wandering over to guess who it was for and what was inside.
Once all three of you pulled up in front of the new local diner in Hawkins. You three gathered in and let the hostess walk you over to your table. You and Eddie sat next to each other in a booth, leaving wayne alone across from you. The waitress comes over taking everyone's orders. After she left, you figured it was the perfect time to give it to him.
You look up at Eddie, nudging his side to grab his attention. His uncle just got done scolding him over his breaks needing change.
"So uh, we got you a present," Eddie coughed. He doesn't think he can handle more lectures from the man who practically raised him.
But he straightened up his back, preparing for anything.
"Yep here you go hope you like it." You picked up the bad next to you and placing it front of him.
"For me?" Wayne grabbed it and started taking the tissue paper out. "It ain't ma' birthday yet."
He laughs when he pulls out the tiniest little shirt he's ever seen. "Home grown, that's cute...I don't think it's gonna fit me though darlin-."
He cuts his sentence, short eyes growing wider by the second. You and Eddie look over at each other, smiling from ear to ear.
"Is this what I think it is?." Wayne questioned with tears threatening to spill over his lashes.
"Yep we're having a baby." Eddie moved to wrap an arm over your shoulder and pulling into his side.
"We wanted to tell you first." You choked back a sob.
Wayne still gathering his thoughts. He's holding the small onesie in his hand like he's already holding your newborn baby.
"I-I'm gonna be a grandpa?" Wayne wiped at his eyes. His was starting to become overwhelmed.
Here come the tears from Eddie now. His eyes swelling up and nose turning red. He's never seen Wayne this over come with emotions before. The only time he's ever seen him like that is when his dad started his usual mess. That was always just out of anger and frustrations mostly. This was pure joy and happiness. Wayne has always wanted the best for his nephew.
"We're thinking of naming them, Ozzy." Eddie tried to joke and lighten the mood.
Wayne couldn't say anything but only shake his head at nephew. He cleared his throat, grabbing napkins from the dispenser on the table.
"We are not." You spoke up, wiping your eyes.
Your food finally came, and the waitress gave all three of you a concerned look. A table full of adults bawling their eyes out is a cause of concern. Especially in this town. It was only when she noticed the tiny onesie folded up neatly beside wayne on the table, did her worry look drop. She mumbled a soft aww and set everyone's food down.
"Congratulations to all of you." She said with a warm smile.
The rest of the night went on like normal. Except now instead of Wayne fussing at Eddie for not eating healthy. He was doing that to both of you. Telling you how you need to order seconds because you're eating for two. Informing Eddie how the trailer needs to be baby proofed immediately. The only thing left to do was tell your parents next and his friends. You can only assume which of the two is going to freak out the most.
You leaned over and whispered to Edde, "You wanna tell Dustin next ooooor-?"
He side eyed you. " We're telling your parents next - if it makes you feel better, I'll be on the phone so they can yell at me instead."
"Deal?" Eddie leaned back in the booth, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He was busy focusing on Wayne's ranting and your concerns about telling your parents.
You sighed, dreading that phone call, but knowing it needs to be done. "deal."
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x you#eddie munson comfort#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#dad!eddie munson#eddie munson x pregnant!reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
(Smut/ NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)
Nanami always keeps clear boundaries with his subordinates. He's a highly professional man who never crosses a line when it comes to mutual respect with everyone around him.
It's almost admirable in your eyes..How efficient he is, how perfectly he executes every task of his job. only does he seem different at times...
You're just so thoughtful it almost annoys him. You've already picked up on each and every one of his little habits; the way he likes his coffee, exactly when he takes his coffee breaks, where he usually hangs his freshly ironed jackets, where each piece of paperwork is kept in his office...
...Might be the old age but it makes him feel things when you knock on his door, when you greet him with the "Morning, Nanami-san, I sorted the documents from yesterday for you", or when you get his jacket for him without him even asking, with a sweet "Nanami-san, please don't forget your umbrella tomorrow, it's going to be rainy."
You're the only one who's allowed to adjust his tie when it's a bit loose, the only one allowed to lay your hands on his chest and fix his collar -breathing in the scent of his colone along the way-, the only one igniting his primal desire despite his exhausting life.
Might be the old age but he certainly wishes he could get this kind of treatment at home as well. He's rather lonely, overworked and tired whenever he gets back to his empty apartment..
Wouldn't it be better if you were the one to bake his fresh bread and prepare his delicious sandwiches for him? Give him a kiss before he heads to work and send him pictures of your legs spread with one of his designer ties barely covering your pussy?
Wouldn't it be so much better if he came back to strip you naked and take a steamy shower with you? push you on his king-sized bed to devour your sex, then have you all prepped and pretty to take his cock?
He'd be so happy with any of that, so happy he's now stroking himself and fondling his balls, trying his best to picture the way your tits pressed on his chest in the cramped elevator yesterday.
He knew your birthday was coming up but you never thought he'd even remember something so seemingly 'irrelevant' to him. So you didn't expect to find a luxurious box delievered to your doorstep, with a handwritten wishcard that had a familiar scent to it.
A note saying "wear them with your black heels, it'd look perfect" was inside the box, signed with a beautiful -Kento- on the corner...
---
"Nanami-san, your morning coffee." You greeted him with a smile the next day, leaning down as you gently posed the cup next to him.
"Nanami-san, I'm wearing your gift for my birthday. And the fabric feels so soft on me..."
a large hand pulled you back by the arm as you were about to walk off..
"Don't go there, sweet cheeks. you know I'll ruin you.."
"Then ruin me, Kento..."
I'll be at my desk if you ever need me."
You closed the door behind you, flashing him an innocent smile on the way...
---
Nanami san was missing at work that evening, secretary y/n was not there either. But thankfully your coworkers didn't know the reason behind your absence..
Nanami is busy training your throat in his spacious apartment. Your ass is on the cold floor tiles, body stripped to the lacy lingerie he bought you, caged between the wall and his lower half as he goes balls deep in your throat.
His tie is leashed around your neck with his leg pushing between your thighs, the tip of his expensive leather shoe bumping against your tiny clit.
"How much did this pussy think of me, hmm? does she like my shoe kissing her? playing with her?"
His leg presses harder, your eyes cross in pleasure as you suffocate on his veiny length..
"Look down princess, she's dirtying herself, drooling on my shoe.."
he frees himself from your mouth, leaving you with a drooly tongue and snotty nose as you shiver under him.
"Nanami..my pussy wants you, put it in her..please!"
"Nasty minx." He flicks his tongue with a grin, tears his shirt open to reveal his broad shoulders and toned chest, then tirelessly lifts you on his biceps.
"Aww...I want her too, princess.."
he kisses you senseless, giving himself a few pumps before he splits you open.
He's fevereshly rammimg inside you..golden strands sticking to his sweaty forehead, blushy cheeks blooming and hazel eyes almost teary as he finally feeds the hunger for you..
"Y/n...I need a wife! I want you-fuck-" you hug on him tighter, pussy clenching at the way he growls it against your lips... he paints your stomach white, his embrace deliciously crushing your body.
---
...A few days later the rumors started circulating among the coworkers; Both y/n and Nanami suddenly started wearing rings around the same time, and Nanami's office door started getting double locked, too often...
#nanami smut#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento#nanami x y/n#nanamin#nanami headcanons#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jujutsu nanami#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk nanami#jjk x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#kento x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen
8K notes
·
View notes
Text
one piece men + period sex (nsfw)
some period sex headcanons! || masterlist
ft. luffy, zoro, sanji, law, ace
18+, nsfw, mdni
cw: afab!fem!reader, talk of periods/period sex, blood, bloodplay, oral sex, fingering, etc.
luffy
is confused and doesn't understand why you're bleeding... once you explain it to him, he simply shrugs it off and continues. it's not a big deal to him!
doesn't mind any bloodstains, and will not even bother to put a towel down! he's always one to make a mess, but you might have to twist his arm to get you to help with the laundry afterwards...
something inside him stirs when he tastes you; the metallic tang of your blood reminds him of a steak cooked rare, and he can't get enough of it!
zoro
on the surface, he sees it as something normal and natural, and doesn't see any reason to let a tiny bit of blood stop him from giving you some loving. deep down, he's no stranger to the sight or taste of blood, and secretly enjoys it.
doesn't necessarily believe in blood magic, but he thinks it's hot to lap up everything you have to offer—the act of tasting your blood is an intimate act for him, and makes him feel even closer and more tightly bonded to you.
if you're in pain from cramps, he will be gentler and softer with you. he is familiar with aches, soreness, and pain, and it feeds his ego to be able to take that pain away from you with his touch.
sanji
he lives to please, and will still eat you out like a man dying of thirst. secretly, the taste of blood isn't his favorite, but you wouldn't know it by the way he smothers you with attention until you're overstimulated and writhing under him.
feels a bit squeamish fucking you at first—he has to get over the mental hurdle that the blood is just there and he's not hurting you. after he gets accustomed to it, he's back to being all over you just like he usually is.
uses having sex to "fix" your cramps as an excuse to come onto you, and gets so whiny and needy as he pleads to let him help you.
ace
doesn't mind either way, is the type who might not even notice you're on your period unless he sees a bit of blood.
he might be a bit more gentle with you though, and if you're in pain he'll put his palm on you like a warm compress while he eats you out.
loves to dirty talk, and mumbles nonsense about his dick being the medicine you need to make you feel better into your ear while he ruts into you :)
law
insists on putting a towel down—even if he adores you, he doesn't want to have to deal with an unnecessary load of laundry afterwards...
he is so the type of guy to use the "you know, orgasming can help ease the pain of your cramps..." line on you and it works every time.
prefers to use his fingers on you instead of his mouth—if he were anyone else, you might be a bit miffed, but with how skilled he is, who are you to complain?
#one piece x reader#zoro x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#luffy x reader#sanji x reader#law x reader#portgas d ace x reader#ace x reader#vinsmoke sanji x reader#black leg sanji x reader#zoro x you#roronoa zoro x you#monkey d luffy x reader#monkey d luffy x you#luffy x you#sanji x you#law x you#trafalgar law x reader#one piece smut#one piece headcanons#ace x you#one piece scenario#mdni#x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Shatter With Me | Waving The White Flag
↳ Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader
⤜ Surrogacy, Best Friend's Husband
⤜ Rating: MA 🔞
⤜ WC: 18,286
⚠️ Crass language, talk of infertility, drinking, very mild bullying and references to cruel behavior/words, talk of surrogacy, at-home medical procedure, genital touching (non-sexual), planned pregnancy, talk of pregnancy termination/abortion, BIG hurt feelings, open palm slapping, accusations of infidelity
Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon)
◅ Back to story masterlist
Jungkook
Jungkook never thought he’d be haunted by such a small, seemingly insignificant thing. A tiny pastel pink line. Singular. Just like all the ones before it. He’s lost count of exactly how many, but it’s been years; every month, the same outcome. A singular pink line telling him he’s failed. He knows that’s a bit harsh, but it’s how he’s starting to feel—like a complete and utter failure.
“We’ll try again next month,” Jiyoon offers, dropping the offending piece of plastic in the bathroom trash before giving Jungkook a tight smile.
“Have you given any more thought to trying IVF again?” Jungkook asks hesitantly, knowing that’s a sore subject. But, dammit, he’s not in the proper headspace right now to think better of it.
Jiyoon glares at him, her pouty pink lips drawing taut. “I told you not to ask me that ever again. Now, get out. I’d like to take a shower.” When Jungkook doesn’t immediately move from his perch on the bathroom counter, she tags on a frustrated, “Please.”
Jungkook hops down, his socked feet swishing over the tiled floor as he retreats into the master bedroom. The door forcefully shuts right on his heels, echoing the hollow ache in the center of his chest. He promised himself that if it didn’t happen this time, he’d just try harder next time.
Yet, there is only so much he can do. Pushing any harder might widen the rift slowly forming between him and his wife. Already, Jiyoon spends more time at work than with him. Her glares of irritation any time he seeks intimacy outside of their strict ovulation schedule are like holes being punched into his resolve.
After nearly two years of trying, he sought medical answers a year ago. Jiyoon was quite cross with him when she found out he went to the doctor, but he needed to know if it was his fault they were having trouble conceiving. The numbers were standard, slightly higher than average even. The utter devastation on Jiyoon’s face, he’ll never be able to forget that day. Because if he isn’t the problem…then that means she is.
It’s his fault. He wasn’t even thinking about that potential. Jiyoon hasn’t been the same since. That’s when the schedule came into play. That’s when she started to pour far more energy into waiting for the perfect moment instead of just enjoying their time together.
Jungkook can see the disappointment, the guilt that eats away at her each time that single pink line reveals itself. He wishes more than anything there was a way to change it, something more he could do. Yet, she refuses to consider the option of IVF, not after the horror story she heard from her friend Dani. She refuses to even talk about it.
There has to be another way; he’s just not sure what it might be. Jungkook is at a loss, and it feels like the weight of the world is sitting heavy right between his shoulders. The shower kicks on in the bathroom, and Jungkook decides to busy himself by making Jiyoon a cup of tea for when she gets out. He knows she’ll want to spend some time relaxing before bed, and tea always helps.
💔💔💔
Not a day goes by that you don’t think about your best friend, Jiyoon, and the unfortunate circumstances that have befallen her and her husband. It’s not a secret amongst your peers that they’ve been trying to start a family with no luck for several years. It breaks your heart every time she gives you a shake of her head when you look at her with hopeful eyes.
Today isn’t any different. You’re sitting at your desk, absently clicking through the latest portfolio files you got from Namjoon, when Jiyoon walks by your desk, heading toward hers. She’s half an hour late this morning, something that’s pretty routine every few weeks. It’s like clockwork. You’re aware of the ovulation schedule that she and Jungkook keep and know that she allows herself extra time the morning after taking a test to steel herself against the disappointment that will come from the pitying stares in the office.
You catch her eye as she settles into her desk chair, and she gives you that subtle shake of her head. There is tension in her shoulders, and her bottom lip looks like she’s been chewing on it in irritation, but she turns around and gives you her back before you can think to question her about it.
“Morning, Jiyoon,” Namjoon says as he steps out of his office. Namjoon is also well aware of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Jiyoon and Jungkook. It’s why he doesn’t hassle her about being late, something you’re endlessly grateful for.
Jiyoon is your only friend, and you are very protective of her. Well, that’s not entirely true. The protective part is, but she’s not technically your only friend. She’s just the longest friend you’ve had and the one you hold closest to your heart—your best friend. Though, even still, everyone else are really just people you know through Jiyoon or from work. Maybe that’s sad, but you don’t mind it.
“Jiyoon!” Dani squeals from the other side of the office. The bubbly, energetic woman flits across the room, looking every inch like a fairy with her blond pixie cut, petite stature, and buttoned nose.
“Oh gosh, hey. Come here!” Jiyoon swings her chair toward Dani as she beckons her forward, letting you catch a glimpse of her profile. There is a smile on her face, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s strained or not. Jiyoon has always been beautiful, with not a single wrinkle or blemish in sight. Looking at her body language, it’s even harder to tell.
Giggles punctuate their whispered words as Dani crouches beside Jiyoon’s chair, their heads pressed close together. You watch as Dani slips something into Jiyoon’s hand before she stands and waggles her brows down at your friend.
“Have fun,” Dani sing-songs as she prances away from Jiyoon’s desk. Her gunmetal eyes meet yours, and her face sours before she disappears beyond your cubicle.
“What’s that?” you ask a beat after she’s gone and before you can curb your curiosity, tinged with mild jealousy. Dani has made it clear before that she doesn’t like you very much, only tolerating you for Jiyoon’s sake. So, it’s no surprise that you don’t find yourself included when it comes to anything involving Dani—it’s something you’ve chalked up to her own jealousy, perhaps at the fact you’ve been Jiyoon’s friend for so long.
Jiyoon flicks her eyes in your direction before stuffing whatever Dani gave her into her purse. “Just some antacids,” she says, giving you a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
All suspicions disappear as you take in the controlled curve of her lips. She looks miserable. “Oh,” is all you can manage before Namjoon calls everyone’s attention to the front of the room.
“Good morning, everyone. Let’s start this week off on the right foot. We have reports to file and new contracts to negotiate…”
You and Jiyoon have always aspired to work for a marketing and media agency together. So, when the opportunity presented itself, you both were elated to land jobs with Kim Exclusives, one of the most popular management companies for up-and-coming artists, models, and influencers.
That was seven years ago, and your time here has only solidified your friendship with Jiyoon. She met her husband, Jungkook, through the agency. He was one of the first models signed to Kim Exclusives, and you and Jiyoon both handled his portfolio and schedule for a year before she had to give you sole leadership over it once they became intimately involved—the whole conflict of interests thing.
“Are we still meeting tonight?” you ask Jiyoon as the day draws to a close. She’s still diligently working away at her computer, and you stand outside her cubicle with your bag on your shoulder.
“Hmm? Oh. Umm, yeah, I guess. I might be a bit late, though.”
You peek over her shoulder. “Is that the new Song profile?”
“Yep,” she pops the end of the word, keying you into thinking she's not in the mood to chat right now.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you guys later then.”
Jiyoon makes a noncommittal sound, already focused back on her work. You miss the days when she would give you more than a few passing words. Even on her good days, it seems like she’s growing further and further away from you. It’s hard not to feel guilty over the bitter and lonely feelings you get when you think about it. It’s not Jiyoon’s fault that you don’t have more close friends to turn to. But sometimes you wish you meant as much to her as she does to you.
As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you mentally kick yourself. It’s not fair for you to think that. You know Jiyoon cares for you; she’s just had a rough few years, and you shouldn’t be making it about yourself.
Feeling truly like a shit friend, you continue to chastise yourself over the next two hours as you commute home and get ready for tonight. Five minutes away from the pub, you consider calling Jiyoon and canceling. But, just as you pull out your phone to do that, someone calls your name from down the sidewalk.
You turn to see Taehyung and Jungkook waving at you from across the street. Well, there goes your intention to cancel.
“Hey! Have you heard from Jiyoon?” Jungkook asks as he and Taehyung jog across the street.
You press your lips into a thin line, confused. “Did she not come home?”
“Ah, no. She said she was working late and that I should just go ahead and meet up with you and Taehyung. She’s, uh, well, she’s not answering my calls. We—this morning…sorry, just, have you talked to her?”
Doing your best to keep your eyes on his, you give him an honest answer, “She was still working when I left the office. I haven’t heard from her since.” Losing the battle against your will, your eyes sweep over your best friend’s husband. He’s just as gorgeous as he always has been. His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, licking at the collar of his denim jacket. As the lead on his contract, you know he recently landed a massive campaign with a new clothing company, their emblem stitched onto the breast of the coat. Jungkook looks every inch the model he is; his friend no less so.
“Hey! Happy Birthday!” Taehyung greets you as your eyes swing to him.
Warm embarrassment kisses your cheeks. You hate your birthday; you hate being the center of attention. “Thanks,” you murmur, giving him a tight smile.
“Oh, yeah, happy birthday,” Jungkook tacks on. He rubs the back of his neck, giving you an apologetic look. “Should we go ahead and go inside?”
“Yeah, sure.” As Taehyung leads the way inside, you type out a quick text to Jiyoon asking how long she’ll be.
Thirty minutes later, you’re sitting in a mildly withdrawn personal bubble of silence as Jungkook and Taehyung chat about work and sip on fingers of liquor. You’re normally not so silent with them, as they have been clients of yours for years but you’ve also grown to think of them as friends. It’s just you have a lot on your plate right now, Namjoon just added three new clients to your work portfolio, putting you at juggling almost a dozen. You don’t mind the added workload, it helps keep you busy, but it does mean you have to switch around your schedule a great deal and have less time to spend with Jungkook and Taehyung who are two of the longest portfolios you’ve managed. They have a joint ad campaign coming up for the whiskey they’re sampling right now and are trying to decide if they actually like it or not.
Over the years, you've learned that advertisements are just that—a cleverly crafted piece of media to highlight a product. The models in a hamburger ad could very well be vegan, but they’re paid to make you believe otherwise. So, even if they decide they don’t like the whiskey, money will say they do.
Taehyung is a bit newer to Kim Exclusives, a model by complete accident. He came into the office once with Jungkook, just friends hanging out with each other, and the moment Namjoon saw him, he had to have him. A few weeks later, Taehyung was added to the roster of elite models under Kim Exclusives, booking just as well as any veteran.
“It’s a little too smokey for me, I think,” Taehyung comments. “What do you think?” he asks, setting his glass on the table and startling you out of your thoughts.
“What?” You blink up at him, totally lost.
“Give it a taste.” He taps the rim of the glass. “Tell me what you think,” he encourages, pushing the glass closer to where your hands are clasped together on the table.
You don’t really want to try the whiskey, but the expectant looks on Taehyung and Jungkook’s faces make you pick up the glass and take a tentative sip. It burns across your tongue, coating your throat in a fiery, smokey blend of burnt spices. The flavor sits like ash in your mouth.
“It’s, uh…”
“Not great, right?” Jungkook gives you a lopsided grin, his shoulders stretching the seams of his jean jacket as he shrugs. “It’s okay to be honest about it.”
You slide the glass back across the tabletop toward Taehyung. “Yeah, it’s not great. It might be better on ice, but I’m not a big drinker, so I think it’s hard for me to judge it fairly.”
They both seem satisfied with this response and resume their conversation about the whiskey and the new campaign. You check your phone, wondering where Jiyoon could possibly be. There is no response to your text.
You’re picking at the frayed edge of the paper coaster that’s slowly growing waterlogged from the condensation dripping down your glass of ice water when Taehyung taps on the table in front of you, trying to capture your attention.
“Isn’t that right?” he asks.
“Sorry. Is what right?” You feel heat bloom in your cheeks at being caught not paying attention yet again.
“You’re healthy.”
That statement has confusion replacing your embarrassment. “Healthy?”
“Let me backtrack,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his seat and throwing an arm over the back of Jungkook’s chair.
“Taehyung, really, this isn’t the time—”
“Ahem,” Taehyung interrupts Jungkook’s protest. “Hypothetically speaking, if your best friend and her husband were to inquire of you about the possibility of surrogacy, what would you say?”
The dots aren’t connecting for you, and his blunt question makes you feel like you missed something important. “Surrogacy?” You don’t mean to sound like a broken record, repeating what Taehyung is saying, but you’re thoroughly having a tough time understanding.
“Listen, you don’t have to answer that,” Jungkook states, shaking his head at Taehyung and giving him a pleading look that says to stop while he’s ahead.
“Are you and Jiyoon looking into a surrogate?” you ask; everything suddenly clicks into place, and the question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.
Jungkook grips the back of his neck and grumbles something incoherent towards Taehyung before he blows out a heavy breath and his eyes slowly rise to meet yours. “Not exactly, no. We haven’t talked about it yet. It’s just something I read about today. But, honestly, you don’t have to answer the question. Taehyung is just being a dick—”
“I’d do it.”
Your response leaves Jungkook with his mouth open and jaw slack as he stares at you in bewilderment.
“See, I told you. She’s perfect. Young, healthy, and someone you know and can trust,” Taehyung tots off, waving a finger in the air.
“Wait…are you serious?” Jungkook asks, pointedly ignoring Taehyung.
You’ve never considered being a mom before, at least not in that sense. It was always an assumption that it wouldn’t be in the cards for you—the whole lack of a love life thing being the crux of it. You’ve barely had a handful of boyfriends, much less a long-term commitment that would lead to a family. But, when it comes to Jiyoon, you’d do just about anything for her. So, if she asked you to carry a baby for her, you know, without a doubt, you’d do it.
“Y-yeah. Yes,” you state with more confidence. “I’d do that.”
Before Jungkook can respond, Jiyoon bustles in through the bar's front door, her lilting laughter drawing everyone’s attention. She has her phone pressed to her ear, and she’s smiling at whatever the person she’s speaking to is saying.
“Okay, yeah. Tomorrow sounds great. See you then,” Jiyoon says before ending the call and pocketing her phone. “Oh, Taehyung is here.” It’s a bland statement, Jiyoon’s eyes flicking over Jungkook’s best friend before landing on her husband. “Did you order me a drink already?”
Jungkook clears his throat, trying to compose himself before speaking. “Babe, hey. Um, no, I wasn’t sure when you’d get here. You weren’t responding to any of my calls or texts.”
Jiyoon slides into the empty seat beside you, across from Jungkook, and gives you a quick smile before wrinkling her nose in his direction. “I’ll take a glass of red.”
“Oh-kay,” Jungkook says slowly, a look of confusion ghosting over his features. “Where have you been?”
“Hmm? Oh, just busy with work,” Jiyoon says. “Wine, please, Jungkook.” His only response is a tight press of his lips before he stands up and disappears in the direction of the bar. Jiyoon clicks her tongue and angles herself to look at you. “You’re not drinking?” she asks, eyeing the glass of water on the table in front of you.
“Um, no. You know I don’t—”
“I know, you’re boring,” Jiyoon sighs. The only thing taking the sting out of her words is the smile she gives you. You know Jiyoon isn’t exactly what people would call a nice person; in fact, she’s often coined as a ‘mean girl.’ But she’s never been intentionally mean to you, not really. She just provides constructive criticism and encouragement to be the best version of yourself that you can be.
“Way to be a bitch to her on her birthday, Jiyoon,” Taehyung mumbles into his whiskey glass before tossing it back and downing the rest.
Jiyoon winces and then plasters a smile on her face before saying, “Right, happy birthday.”
“Yeah, thanks.” You make your best attempt at nonchalance, but you’re not sure it lands properly as Taehyung shakes his head, and Jiyoon sighs again.
“I forgot, okay? It’s been so busy at work and with—uh,” she pauses for just a second, and any other time you might not have noticed, but you can’t help but pick up on the way she rushes to continue, “the new client that you know Namjoon has been breathing down my neck over. The Harper portfolio, you know the one? And apparently, the Song profile needs to be redone on top of that.”
Jiyoon has been different lately. You’re aware that she took over one of the new higher-end clients, some big hot-shot movie star or something like that, but it’s almost made her seem like she thinks she’s above everyone else. It makes things tense sometimes like everyone is on edge when she comes around. You try to ignore it, for the sake of tonight. “It’s okay, Jiyoon, really.”
“Anyway, how are things going? It’s been a few weeks since we last talked about something other than work.”
Yeah, because every time you turn around Jiyoon is spending time with Dani or has a client meeting. You shrug. “Okay, I guess.”
Taehyung pipes up in the silence that follows, “We were actually just talking about surroga—”
“Red wine for my wife, another whiskey for Tae, the good stuff this time, and a pina colada for the birthday girl. Virgin, I made sure. I know you don’t like to drink alcohol,” Jungkook interrupts Taehyung, passing out the cluster of drinks in his hands.
You stare up at Jungkook, lips slightly parted as you try to think of the proper response, completely taken off guard by his gesture. Finally, you lamely offer, “Oh, uh, you didn’t have to, but thanks.”
“Nonsense. It’s your birthday, you deserve a little treat, and I know you like pineapple.” Jungkook settles back into his seat, and you try to keep your eyes off your best friend's husband. But it’s hard with how his hair falls into his face, and the denim hugs his shoulders as he relaxes against the back of his chair.
“Ew,” Jiyoon gags dramatically, startling your attention in her direction. “Is that a jacket from the shoot today?” She gestures at Jungkook, the distaste apparent on her face. “I know they didn’t dress you in that. What were they thinking?”
Jungkook frowns, staring down at the oversized light-wash jean jacket. “You don’t like it?” he asks.
Jiyoon scoffs, “It looks ridiculous, you look ridiculous. What the hell did you do to your hair? A mullet, really? It’s a wonder you’re a model. You were okay with this?” The last part is directed at you, because, as the lead on his profile, you’re the one who signed off on the hair and makeup for the shoot.
“Hey now,” Taehyung states loud enough to quiet the table; he’s clearly not having any of Jiyoon’s antics tonight, long work day or not. “Keep your petty bullshit opinions for when you’re at home. Tonight isn’t about you or how handsome my best friend is in his jean jacket and new hairstyle.” You can tell he intentionally calls Jungkook his best friend instead of Jiyoon’s husband as an extra jab.
“I never said he wasn’t handsome,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes before looking at Jungkook and sighing. “Sorry, dear, I’m just under a lot of stress. You know I didn’t mean it.” Her eyes flick to yours. “I know it’s not your fault.” You just give her a subtle shake of your head, not sure how to respond.
Clearing his throat, Jungkook smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and tries to move the conversation along. “It’s okay. Let’s just focus on why we’re here tonight.” He swings his eyes toward you, his smile becoming genuine, and begins to loudly belt out Happy Birthday, much to your dismay. This draws the attention of everyone else in the bar and earns you a generous round of applause when the singing finally fades.
You try to enjoy the rest of your night, but every time Jungkook catches you staring at him, you can’t help but feel a small spike of guilt; guilt over the perhaps tiny, mostly insignificant, completely harmless crush you might, perhaps, maybe have on your best friend’s husband.
It’s hard not to be attracted to him; Jiyoon knows that—she flaunts that fact. She also knows her claws are deep in him, and he’s not going anywhere. Jungkook would pull down the moon for her and then ask if she wanted the sun, too. You swallow down the last of your pina colada, eyes once again locked on Jungkook as he throws his head back and laughs at something Taehyung said.
Jiyoon presses her arm against yours, leaning in close to you. In a soft voice meant only for you, she whispers, “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”
“Hm? Who?”
“Don’t play coy with me,” she giggles drunkenly. “I know you were staring at him. My husband.”
You shrug. “I wasn’t staring.”
Jiyoon sighs wistfully. “It’s okay to stare, I don’t mind. I know what he looks like, after all. He’s so beautiful when he’s happy. I wish I could give him what he wants, he’d be the perfect father…I’m so scared to lose him.” The last part is whispered, so soft it’s hard to hear.
Instantly, your guilt turns into something else: resolve. You can’t bear the defeat you hear in her voice. It’s not something you can even begin to fathom—what she and Jungkook are going through. It’s no wonder she has caustic words at times. You meant what you said earlier, what you told Jungkook you were willing to do. With that in mind, you make a mental note to start researching and do what you can to make sure at least someone gets a happy ending here.
💔💔💔
Jungkook
The night of your birthday kept playing over and over again in Jungkook’s head the days that followed. Now, just as evening is rolling around, one week later, he can’t stop thinking about what you said, your confirmation. On top of that, that night was probably the most fun Jungkook has had in a long time—as long as he excludes the prickly start after Jiyoon arrived. He’s used to her snide and biting remarks after a long work day. Brushing them to the side and sweeping them away is usually easy.
But for some reason—perhaps it was the high he was riding after your confession and confirmation—it bothered him that she was doing it in front of Taehyung—in front of you. As if somehow her criticisms might make you both believe them. Not that he cares about being good-looking to Taehyung, or you for that matter, not really. It’s just that his first thought was what if that made you change your mind? Not necessarily whether or not he’s attractive, but the exchange as a whole. What if Jiyoon’s blatant criticisms made you want to change your mind because it somehow planted doubt in your mind that they’re a happy and healthy environment for a child?
“Jungkook.” The frustrated snap of his name brings him out of his thoughts. His eyes focus on the bathroom mirror once more, on Jiyoon, who is standing behind him with her hands on her hips, accentuating the flattering cut of the navy-colored dress she’s wearing. “Are you even listening to me?”
Turning and leaning back against the counter, Jungkook gives her his full attention. “Uh, yeah, sorry. You were talking about having dinner with a client tonight, and you’re leaving now to meet with Dani so you can get some files.”
“Yes,” she says, her lips twitching in mild surprise, and Jungkook knows she was expecting him not to have been paying attention. “I don’t know how long the dinner will last, so don’t wait up for me. It’s likely I’ll be home late.” She turns to go back into the bedroom, and Jungkook isn’t sure what possesses him, but he surges forward and gently snags her wrist, turning her back toward him. “Uh?” she makes a sound of mild questioning irritation.
“I have something I need—er, want—to talk to you about. It should only take a moment.”
She shakes his hold off her wrist and gives him a placating smile. “Okay, well, talk while I finish getting ready at least.” Not waiting to see if he follows, she disappears into the bedroom and heads to the closet, rummaging through her jewelry.
“Okay, um. Okay,” Jungkook stumbles over his words, feeling like he’s under pressure for some reason. “So, the other night, it was brought up in conversation, and uh, she already agreed, and it’s just that, well, there’s this thing called intracervical insemination and…how do you feel about surrogacy?”
There is a heavy pause, dread threatening to make Jungkook backpedal and eat his words just to snatch them back out of the air. Jiyoon glances at him over her shoulder, but he can’t get a clear read on her eyes. “What? Oh, yeah, sure,” she says, turning back to her digging.
Jungkook can’t tell whether Jiyoon is the one paying attention to him now, so he probes further, just to be clear. “You mean that? You’re okay with going the surrogacy route? My sperm, her egg…your best friend carrying our baby?”
Jiyoon’s back is to Jungkook, but he watches how her shoulders slide up in a shrug. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”
“I’m not sure, it’s just that with ICI—”
“Look, Jungkook,” Jiyoon says, turning to face him fully. Her fingers work at slipping a pair of silver hoops into her earlobes. “I trust you.” She says the words slowly, keeping her eyes intently locked on his. “I know you’ll do your best for us. Whatever you want, it’s what I want, too. You know that.”
“Well, um, do you have any questions? We should talk…discuss this, er, something. I know how you feel about IVF. I want to make sure this is an option you truly want, and you’re not just saying this to make me happy. You should take some more time to think about it.” The fact she’s so quick to agree makes Jungkook question whether or not he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.
Jiyoon cups one of his cheeks, gently thumbing over his bottom lip. “I don’t need time to think, because I’ve already thought about it. I—well, I was going to bring it up to you soon, but I wanted to do a bit more research first.”
“Wait, what? Really? You were thinking about ICI, too?” Jungkook swallows hard, leaning into his wife's warm touch.
“Yeah,” she whispers, her soft smile making her eyes twinkle and his heart melt.
Jungkook can’t help letting his eyes drink in his wife. They might have been going through rough patches the last few years, but that hasn’t lessened how he feels about her. Jungkook has always found her strikingly beautiful, with long legs and shiny hair that he loves to run his fingers through. But at this moment, he feels like he might burst with the love he has for her.
“Yeah? Okay. Okay,” he tries to suppress the emotion in his words. “Okay, perfect. I love you. I love you so much!”
Jiyoon laughs, and it sounds magical, as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and plants a kiss on her lips. “Don’t smear my lipstick, please,” she mumbles, her voice light and playful.
“Go have a good dinner, secure the client, and don’t worry about anything else,” Jungkook bubbles happily, setting Jiyoon back on her feet. “I swear I’ll take care of it all. Everything will be perfect, absolutely perfect.”
An hour later, Jungkook walks up to your apartment door. He couldn’t stop himself earlier, so he immediately texted you and asked to see you as soon as Jiyoon left for Dani’s.
The door swings open before he can knock, revealing you standing there breathless and in a set of purple checkered pajamas. “Is everything okay?” you ask, worry lines creasing between your brows. “Your text sounded urgent.”
“Oh.” Jungkook feels terrible for making you concerned. He didn’t mean for it to come off like that. “No, I mean, yes, everything is okay. But, no, it’s not exactly urgent. Sorry for that. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
You lean against the doorframe, eyes wide on his. “What is it?”
“Er, uh, do you mind if I come in? This is more of a sit-down kind of conversation.”
The little ‘o’ your lips form is far cuter than Jungkook has a right to think it is. His mind instantly latches onto it, wondering if the baby would have your lips or his. “O-okay, sure, come on in.”
Jungkook has visited your apartment a handful of times over the years. It’s quaint and cozy, exactly what he’d imagine for you. There are books everywhere, shelves full of thick and thin volumes of literary prose. A few art pieces decorate the walls, along with dozens and dozens of black-and-white photos in simple frames. He stirs up the recollection that you enjoy photography in your spare time.
“Sorry, again, about my text. I didn’t mean to worry you, really.” Jungkook feels nervous, unsure where to stand or even sit, until you gesture toward the couch. A handful of well-loved decorative pillows are scattered across the burgundy suede. He settles at one end as you take the other, looking at him expectantly.
A beat or two passes, and Jungkook feels like he’s about to swallow his tongue until you open your mouth, clearly picking up on his distress. “Is it something with work? I can try to fix whatever it is first thing in the morning—”
“No, no,” Jungkook holds up a hand, shaking his head. “It’s not work. It’s um, it’s actually Jiyoon. Well, me and her, specifically.”
You pull your knees up and tuck your feet underneath yourself. “Oh, okay.”
“Were you serious about what you said the other night?” Jungkook blurts, figuring it’s best, like ripping off a bandaid.
Your bottom lip has an indent left from where you tucked it between your teeth before nodding. “Yes.” Jungkook didn’t necessarily expect you to say no, but the rush of relief he feels at hearing that encourages him to press on.
“I talked with Jiyoon about it today and she—we—would be honored if you’d do that for us. If you’d give us a chance at having a family. It’s…it’s something we both, deeply, deeply desire. If you’re truly serious about it, we’ll take care of everything, all medical expenses, bills, anything…just name it, it’s yours.”
“That’s—okay, okay, yes. Yes, I’ll do it. Just tell me what I need to do.”
Jungkook whoops loudly, jumping up from the couch, and drags you into his arms for a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can’t even begin to explain what this means to me, to us. This is…I can’t…oh my, I need to—wait, okay. Sorry, let me calm down for a second.” The word vomit is real, and Jungkook uses his hold on you to ground himself, moving his hands to your shoulders and locking his eyes on yours. “I think I might pass out,” he whispers a second before bursting into a giddy laugh.
“Whoa, um, sit down. Please don’t pass out on me. You’re too big for me to catch!” Your frantic words make him laugh even harder.
He shakes his head, on cloud nine. “I’m kidding, kind of. I just feel…I feel so light, like—well, it doesn’t matter about that. What matters is you. Please don’t feel obligated to do this. That’s the last thing I want. If you are serious, I can send all the information you need to you in the morning. But only if you’re certain.”
“Jungkook,” the way you say his name makes his heart thump heavy in his chest as if his fate hinges on whatever comes next. “I am serious. I promise. I want to do this for you, for Jiyoon…I want to give you both the happiness you deserve.”
“Thank you,” Jungkook says fervently, never meaning something more in his life.
This happiness carries Jungkook through the rest of the evening, turning into a brilliant flame of intimacy when Jiyoon crawls into bed beside him hours later. For the first time in a long time, there is no schedule, no waiting for the perfect moment; it’s just the love shared between two souls celebrating the joys of life.
💔💔💔
The following day, several emails from Jungkook are waiting for you; Jiyoon CC’d on them all, as well as a few texts to check in. The idea that you could possibly be pregnant in the coming weeks or months—not just pregnant, but pregnant with Jungkook’s baby for your best friend—still feels a bit surreal.
You texted Jiyoon last night, expressing to her how much she means to you and that you’re honored she wants it to be you that helps her fulfill her dreams of having a family. She hasn’t replied yet, but that doesn’t bother you; she’s probably busy helping Jungkook with planning.
There is an entire email dedicated to medical referrals. Apparently, Jungkook spent hours pouring over all the local doctors and medical facilities vetting to find the best ones. Each has notes and suggestions under them, along with all the information you might need to call and make an appointment.
That’s really all you need to do: make an appointment for a check-up. Taehyung made an assumption of your health last night, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. The last thing you’d want to do is be in poor health and unable to keep your word.
Your fingers tremble as you dial the numbers, and you have to take a few shallow breaths to get your voice to work properly. Minutes later, you have an appointment scheduled for later this week. Now, all you have to do is figure out how you’re going to wait the next few days and not burst from anticipation. It’s a slow few days.
Apparently, by Googling every possible thing you can think of about being a surrogate and pregnancies. Along with the emails full of information, by the time you’re walking into the clinic for your appointment at the end of the week, you feel confident asking questions.
“Being a surrogate is a pretty serious situation. Have you considered all the possibilities and what might be required of you?” The doctor has a pleasant demeanor; her eyes are intense yet kind. It might be the steel-colored strands scattered through her hair or the wrinkles that deepen around her eyes when she smiles, but you feel comfortable opening up to her.
You roll your lips between your teeth before saying, “Honestly? Probably not as much as most surrogates. I’m sure there are things I’m not aware of yet. It was only presented to me a few days ago. But I have done some extensive reading and soul-searching, and I know it’s what I want.”
Dr. Lee contemplates you for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I believe you do. Let’s get started, shall we?”
It’s not uncomfortable going through all the tests and procedures. There isn’t much the doctor does that you haven’t done before. Samples are taken, and a routine exam is performed. As you leave, the nurse tells you you should have results within the next two weeks.
Thankfully, the results come at the beginning of the following week. You’re sitting at your desk at work, reviewing the final details for the whiskey campaign Jungkook and Taehyung are shooting in a few days, when you get the notification that your results are viewable on your patient portal. A moment before you click into the email, your phone buzzes in your pocket.
“Hello?” you whisper, cupping your hand around the base of your phone and mouth. A nurse rattles off your information, ensuring she speaks to the right person. “Yes, speaking.”
“I just wanted to let you know that all of your results are in, and Dr. Lee has signed off on your request to move forward with the surrogacy…” Everything else the nurse says is a bit hazy. She covers the numbers for your tests and where to find resources for more information on at-home intracervical insemination. “Do you have any questions for me? Ma’am, are you still there?”
“Oh, umm, yes, sorry. No questions, thank you so much.”
The line disconnects, and you sit there for a few more moments, the phone still held to your ear, as you try to process the giddy feeling bubbling up inside you. You need to tell Jiyoon, Jungkook, someone…anyone. Pushing up from your desk, you scan the area around you for your best friend and come up empty.
“Hello?” Jungkook answers on the second ring.
“Jungkook.”
“Oh, hey. Everything okay?”
“What? Oh. Yes. Yes, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Do you know where Jiyoon might be? I haven’t seen her since she came into the office this morning.” You rack your brain, trying to remember if you saw her leave or go into another room.
“Yeah, she called a little while ago and said that Namjoon was having her meet one of the new clients for lunch to sign some more papers.”
“Right, that’s right,” you say, recalling that Namjoon asked her to come into his office shortly after she arrived this morning.
“Why? What’s up?”
You drag a slow, shallow breath into your lungs in an effort to slow your rapidly beating heart. “I heard back from the doctor.”
Jungkook urges you to continue, “Yeah? What did they say? Is everything okay? Are you okay?”
“I’m…I’m great. I’m perfect. I’m—I, I can do it. We can do it. There’s a chart,” you explain, wedging your phone between your ear and your shoulder to free your hands so you can pull up the email you got and forward it to him. “It has an estimated schedule and recommendations on timing for the best results. I just sent everything over to you.”
“I got it. Wow. Okay. Wow. Oh my…wow! I need to call Jiyoon. Fuck. Oh my god. Okay, thank you! I’ll call you back later, okay?” The line disconnects after Jungkook says a hurried goodbye, the elation in his voice evident.
According to the doctor's ovulation chart, the best time for you to begin trying is next week. Conception is most likely during a twenty-four-hour period. On your way home, you stop and pick up an ovulation testing kit so you can remain on track.
You arrive home filled with nervous energy, unable to stop smiling as you unpack the things you picked up at the pharmacy. A large box of pregnancy tests goes beside the ovulation kit in your medicine cabinet, along with a pack of medical gloves and hand sanitizer. You’re not sure what you’ll need, exactly, but you figure it’s better to have it and not need it than the other way around.
“Jiyoon!” you gush, swiping to answer the call coming in on your phone. “Hi!”
“Hey, I just got off the phone with Jungkook.” There is a lot of background noise, and it’s hard to hear her clearly.
“Oh, wonderful! I got the results today. There is a possibility of next week being—”
A loud laugh cuts through from Jiyoon’s end, the added clang of dishes drowning you out further. “Sorry, I’m still at dinner. Next week, you say? I’ll be going on a business trip the whole of next week, Namjoon wants me to travel with a client for a go-see.”
Disappointment drags at your shoulders and has your smile softening into a frown. You suppose it can wait a few more weeks. “Okay, no problem. That will give us time to plan a bit more anyway.”
“Sure thing!” Jiyoon yells, the line cutting out momentarily. “I’ll catch you later. I can’t wait to see you when I get back. Thank you. I love you so much!”
“Okay, yeah, love you—” The line goes dead before you can finish. “Love you, too,” you murmur into the quiet of your apartment.
A minor setback. But it’s okay; you’re sure you were getting ahead of yourself anyway. Taking a few weeks to confirm things and actually come up with a game plan is probably for the better. But it doesn’t hurt to start doing that now. Letting the smile that hadn’t left your face most of the day slide back onto your lips, you continue setting up everything in your bathroom so it’ll be there for when you do need it.
It turns out you don’t have to wait—at least, according to Jungkook. From the constant flood of text messages you’ve gotten from him over the last few days, as much as Jiyoon would love to be there to help, she’s given her blessing to proceed with the ICI without her. In her own words, via a text you got last night, there will be plenty more for her to be present for, and she’s far too excited for you to wait for her to return.
Jiyoon has been relatively quiet, but Jungkook explained in delicate words that she’s okay; she just has a lot on her plate right now. Even though it may seem like she’s on the outside, it’s more that this is a very sensitive topic for Jiyoon. Despite wanting a child, ICI is nearly as taboo a subject as IVF when it comes to Jiyoon; you know this. She’s told you how much it makes her feel like a failure. So, you’re content when Jungkook takes full responsibility for the surrogacy journey and has promised to be there for you every step of the way, including coming over to your place tonight to help you with the first ICI attempt.
You’ve been testing your ovulation each morning, and the positive test strip in your bathroom trash has started a full-tilt, day-long extravaganza. It’s a Thursday, just a few days after you got your green light from the doctor, meaning you were able to leave work early and are now sitting on your couch waiting patiently for Jungkook to arrive.
All your research and reading about ICI makes you nervous about what’s to come. It’s not that you’re going to be explicitly intimate with Jungkook, but you’re well aware of the fact that fresh sperm samples, as in within a thirty-minute window, are the best. Which means, he’s going to have to somehow provide the sample while he’s here.
The idea of Jungkook masturbating in your bathroom should feel awkward or perhaps embarrassing to think about, yet you’re oddly comfortable with it. It’s a natural thing, something necessary to create something that’s going to be beautiful.
By the time Jungkook knocks on your door, your hands are clammy, and it takes you two tries to get the handle to turn. He greets you with a giant smile and shining eyes, absolutely breathtaking.
“Hi,” he breathes.
“Hi,” you parrot, unable to contain from reflecting the smile still on his face. “Please, come on in.”
“Thanks.” Jungkook steps past you, and the soft fragrance of his laundry detergent catches in your nose. “I brought everything we need,” he says, holding up a bag. He’s wearing the same denim jacket he was the other night, a white T-shirt underneath above a pair of worn, light-washed jeans, and black boots on his feet that he toes off before heading into your living room.
“Can I get you anything to drink or maybe something to eat? Have you had dinner yet?” You’re not sure how this is going to go, if it’s just going to be a clinical experience or something more comfortable between friends. Because you are friends, right? At this point, you should consider him more than just your best friend’s husband; he should at least be seen as a friend of yours, too.
Jungkook deposits the bag on your couch and turns to look at you. “Um, maybe if you had some beer or something, but I know you don’t drink—” There is a nervous energy to the way he’s talking, words coming out a little too quickly “—so, er, maybe just some water is fine.”
“Actually,” you say, hurrying into the kitchen and opening the fridge, “I got, well, is this okay?” You hold up a 6-pack of beer you bought on a whim a few nights ago. It’s true that you don’t really drink, but you weren’t thinking of yourself at the time that you bought it. In actuality, you were thinking of Jungkook, knowing he’s partial to this brand, and figured…well, you’re not sure what you figured, you bought it before you could give it too much thought.
The corner of Jungkook’s mouth lifts, his smile turning into a light smirk. “Wow, my favorite. I’d love to, but actually, I’m not sure if I should, no matter how nervous I am right now…not until after, at least. I haven’t read anything about how alcohol might impact things, but I’ve not had a drop of alcohol to drink nor a bite of junk food in the last week, just in case.”
“Oh, right. Of course, I should have thought about that.”
“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t thinking either, I haven’t been able to think about much at all, if I’m being honest,” Jungkook laughs nervously, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. “Is this weird? Are you sure you want to do this?”
It is weird, but not in a bad way, and you don’t want to admit that because you don’t want him to worry. So, you simply smile and shake your head. “It’s not all that weird, it’s…well, just not weird. I am nervous,” you decide to give him at least that. “I’m worried that it might not work, or that I might do something wrong.”
“W-what do you think you might do wrong?” Jungkook asks, moving closer to you. “I’ve…I’ve read a lot about the how, I even got an informational video from my doctor.”
You can feel heat crawling up your neck. “I’m not sure, exactly. I guess just the whole process in general.”
There is a beat where you can see Jungkook contemplating his words. He chews on his bottom lip, eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to you. “I could help if you want. Purely in a platonic, helpful way, no funny business, I swear.”
“Um, I don’t know if that…uh, I can try first, maybe?” You can’t seem to swallow past the thick knot in your throat at the thought of asking Jungkook to help assist you in…well, that.
“Sure, okay. Should we…get started?” Jungkook asks, his eyes flicking back to the bag he dropped on your couch.
Your stomach flips at his words. “Yeah,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, feeling suddenly even more shy than usual.
“Great.” Jungkook claps his hands together before retrieving the bag from the couch. “I have everything we need. It's probably best if we begin this in the bathroom.”
Your apartment has one bathroom, which is joined to the bedroom but is still accessible through the hallway. Jungkook leads the way down the hall, flicking on the light inside the bathroom before stepping aside to let you in as well.
“Have you talked with Jiyoon?” you ask, seeking something to fill the silence as you watch him unpack everything from the bag and arrange it on the bathroom counter.
Jungkook shakes his head in a so-so manner. “I spoke with her for a few minutes earlier to let her know the plan for tonight. She couldn’t talk long and it was hard to hear with all the background noise, but she’s excited and said she can’t wait to be back at the end of the week.”
After washing his hands, Jungkook opens up the packet of a large sterile pad and spreads it out across the rest of the counter. From the research you’ve done, you recognize some of the things he begins to set out. There is a collection cup with an orange screw-on lid, a large syringe with a hose attaching it to a bulbous silicone mushroom-shaped plug, and several single-use packets of water-based lube. He also sets out a box of pregnancy tests, giving you a sheepish smile when you raise an eyebrow at it.
“I, uh, bought some, too,” you say, opening the medicine cabinet to show him the large box of pregnancy tests sitting between your ovulation test kit and your toothbrush.
Jungkook smiles. “I guess we’re on the same wavelength, huh?”
You have to stop yourself from leaning too far into the unusual, yet enticingly warm and appealing, feeling you get when he smiles like that. Clearing your throat, you gesture to the spread of tools. “What now?”
“I think we should discuss a game plan, make sure we know what to do and when to do it. There are some things I’ve read online, plus the directions in this pamphlet,” he says, slipping a folded paper from the box the inseminator came in.
Leaning in, you try to read the step-by-step process written on the paper over Jungkook’s shoulder. He shifts, steps closer to you, and angles the pamphlet to make it easier for you to see.
“Step one, collect the sample. Step two, transfer the sample into the syringe. Step three, insert the silicone plug into the…v-vagina,” you choke over the word, feeling heat licking up your neck, “as close to the cervix as possible. Step four, depress the plunger to administer the sample.”
“Seems pretty simple, right?”
You’re not sure you’d say simple. Sure, step by step, it looks pretty straightforward, but you seem to be responsible for the most challenging part, and that makes you even more nervous than before. “Yeah, simple.”
“Give me a few minutes, I need to—uh,” he points to the sample cup. “I’ll, you know.”
“Oh, right, right, of course. I’ll just—" you hook a thumb over your shoulder towards the door that leads to your bedroom ”—wait in there.”
It’s hard not to pace around your bedroom as you wait. You try to stick to the far side of your bedroom, not wanting to come too close to the bathroom and overhear anything you shouldn’t. The fact your best friend’s husband is in your bathroom masturbating is a weird enough revelation, albeit a necessary one for the ICI procedure; you’d still rather afford him some privacy.
After three minutes, you stop counting the seconds that pass, realizing that means you’re counting how long it takes for Jungkook to produce the sample. Which is something you’re vehemently trying to avoid thinking about so casually.
The bathroom door opening startles you, stopping you in your tracks. Jungkook clears his throat. “Ready?”
You move over to the bathroom. “I think so.”
“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You can do this and don’t forget, I’ll be here if you need any help, promise. Purely for help, for the process.” Jungkook swipes a finger in an x over his chest. “Cross my heart.”
“You’re right,” you say, trying to bolster your own confidence. “I can do this.”
You step past Jungkook and into the bathroom, but his hand on your arm pulls you up short. “Wait, wait. Would you feel more comfortable doing it in your room? It’s just that I’ve read it’s best if you could lay on your back with your hips elevated for fifteen to thirty minutes after.” He nods at your bed. “More comfortable than the bathroom floor.”
The idea of doing this on your bed crosses a line, taking this from a medical process to something far more intimate. “Maybe just a pillow,” you say, grabbing one of the decorative throw pillows you never seem to remember to put back on your bed but keep in a small pile on the floor instead.
“Okay.” Jungkook gives you a small smile, and it makes his eyes look soft and bright. The kind of smile you hope you can help him bestow onto a baby.
You leave the door unlocked, just in case you need his help. In your bathroom, there is no evidence of Jungkook's actions other than the very full sample cup sitting on the medical pad covering the counter.
The cup is warm to the touch, which is startling, though you know it shouldn’t be. Placing the pillow down on the floor, you shimmy your pants and panties down your legs and step out of them. There is a lingering scent in the bathroom; it’s a mix of Jungkook’s cologne but also of something clinical. You realize there are two empty packets of lube in your trashcan, and you can’t help the image that pieces itself together in your mind.
Swallowing hard against the threatening flood of further indecent thoughts, you move quickly to prepare the inseminator. It’s a systematic process you can do with little thought—safe—unscrewing the cap of the cup and filling the syringe. Once you’re in position on the floor, hips elevated on the pillow, empty packets of lube discarded and your body primed, you take the silicone plug in one hand and the syringe in the other.
The directions make it seem so easy. But as you try to fit the silicone plug inside, you can’t seem to get it to go where you want it. It keeps slipping sideways and tugging at the tube connecting it to the syringe. Your heart begins to race as you realize you might not be able to do this—not on your own, at least.
By the fourth try, fifteen minutes have passed, and you’re in full-blown panic mode. Your breath wheezes in and out as you crunch up, hands fumbling between your thighs, and sweat forming on your brow. “Oh god, oh god. I—uh, god dammit…Jungkook!” His name is out of your mouth in a strangled yell before you can stop it.
“What is it? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” The frantic words are muffled through the door. The door rattles on its hinges, and you can tell he’s pressing up against it from the sound of denim scuffing along it, probably pressing his ear against it in an effort to hear your response.
You’ve managed to get it inside, but you’re not sure if you can get it all the way in, pressed up against your cervix where it needs to be. It’s possible you used too much lube, though the idea that it’s possible to have too much lubricant seems ridiculous. But no matter what you do or how far you press your fingers in, you’re either at a wrong angle, or your fingers keep slipping on the plug too much. Asking Jungkook for help is the last thing you want to do, but you’re not sure what other options there are.
“C-can you come in here?” you ask in a hoarse voice. There is a moment of silence before the door eases open and Jungkook sticks his head inside. His eyes are closed so tight it makes you let out a snap of nervous laughter. “I think…I think I need help. I’m sorry, I just can’t—it’s not going in all the way, I don’t think,” you gush in explanation.
“Do you—is it okay if I?” Jungkook asks, leaving the obvious unsaid.
“Um, yes…please. I’ve tried, and I just…I don’t want to ruin this. I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jungkook shuffles into the bathroom, eyes still firmly closed and arms out in the air. “Um, where exactly are you so I don’t step on you by accident?”
Snagging the edge of the towel hanging on the rack, you pull it down and drape it over your knees to make yourself as decent as you can be in this situation. “Just open your eyes, it’s okay.”
Slowly, his eyes peek open and finally land on where you’re laid out on the floor, bent knees covered in a towel and your shirt askew from all your efforts.
“How can I help?” Jungkook kneels down beside you, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it to the side.
“I just…I don’t know if it’s all the way in. Can you—with your hand, I know that’s horrible and weird, but I don’t know what else to—”
“No, no, it’s not weird. I said I’d help. It’s clinical, right? We’re doing this just as a medical procedure. Like I said, no funny business, I swear. It’s for the baby. I’ll help you.”
“Okay.” You nod, squeezing your eyes shut because it’s hard to look him in the eye when he’s about to—the towel shifts, and cool air licking between your thighs has your mind going blank.
“Look at me,” Jungkook requests, to which you immediately comply. “I need you to promise me you’ll let me know if I hurt you or do something you don’t like. I’ll stop immediately, okay?” When you don’t immediately say anything, he adds, “I need you to tell me you understand.”
“I understand.”
Stretching across to the sink, Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours as he washes his hands and then shifts the towel more, folding it up and over your knees. “I’m going to place my hand on your thigh. Is that okay?”
“Yes.”
His fingers are gentle against your skin, softer than you expected, and warm from the water. You can feel errant droplets of water streak down your thigh and roll over the bottom of your ass. You try to focus on that feeling instead of the way Jungkook’s hand trails down your thigh until his fingers graze your outer lips.
“I’m going to use two of my fingers to try and seat the inseminator. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” this time, it comes out as more a breath than a word.
You tense at the subtle press of his fingers and how they probe their way down until they find your entrance. There is easily enough lube down there to grease a bakery’s worth of cake pans, considering the half a dozen empty packets now in your trashcan, but you can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath as he begins to press in.
“Still okay?” he asks, fingers moving achingly slow.
“I think so.”
Jungkook’s brow pinches. “I feel it…only about two inches in. I’m going to push it further now. Tell me if it hurts or is uncomfortable.”
Never in a million years did you think you’d ever find yourself in this position. Not only are you butterflied open on your bathroom floor, but your best friend’s husband is now middle-knuckle deep in your vagina, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. In fact, you’re trying to do everything you can to not think about how you stretch around the intrusion of his fingers, or that it feels far better than it should.
“Do you think you can get it all the way?” you ask, voice warbling with nerves.
Jungkook hums, his lips pushing out as if he is trying to concentrate. “I think I’m almost there. Does that feel okay, is it good?”
Not once does he look away from you as he’s pushing deeper into your body. You think you want him to look away, to break that intimate contact, but you can’t even bring yourself to do that—even though you know you should. And the whispered exchange does little to help. Is it good? You’re going to burn in hell for the thoughts now flooding through.
“Oh!” You jolt in place, eyes going wide, all previous thoughts gathering into one singular point. Jungkook mirrors your surprise, his mouth popping open in silent shock.
“I’m so sorry!” he babbles. “I didn’t mean to do that. Oh fuck, god damn, shit…okay, sorry, let me just—” Jungkook is still gentle, yet swift in finishing seating the inseminator before quickly extracting his fingers from your body. “Please believe me when I say I am sorry, and I swear I wasn’t trying…I wasn’t trying to do that.”
Your body is still buzzing from the that he’s talking about—the graze of his thumb over your clit. It’s clear it was an accident by his reaction, but it does nothing to lessen the pulse that is now singing through your body.
“I-it’s okay. Really, it’s okay. It’s fine.” You’re not sure if your words are convincing enough, but Jungkook jerks his head in what you assume is a nod of acknowledgement.
“Um, it’s, uh, it’s in. Do you need me to do the syringe, too?”
“Just do it.” You exhale a shaky breath, finally tearing your eyes away from his. You’re confident he’s still watching you, even as he depresses the syringe and injects his cum into your body—as crass as that sounds in your head, that’s exactly what’s happening, and it’s the first time you think you’re realizing how truly fucked you are for this.
Nothing has happened between you and Jungkook, not in that way, but for some reason, guilt won’t leave you alone. You feel like you’ve just betrayed Jiyoon and feel even more like a ridiculous schoolgirl ruining her life over a crush on a boy. You’re intimately aware of the warmth and the subtle change in pressure as he finishes depressing the inseminator. It makes you want to squirm, but you chew your bottom lip and tap your toes instead.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft and gentle.
“I should be asking you that,” you sigh.
Jungkook balks. “What? Why would you say that? I’m fine…I’m the one that—” He nods toward where your body is now covered with the towel again. As soon as he was done plunging the depressor, he unfolded the towel and made you decent once more.
“You didn’t mean to,” you say, maybe more as a reminder to yourself than him.
“No, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Jungkook settles back on his heels, using one of the wet wipes that came in the kit to clean his hands. Suddenly, he laughs. “This is ridiculous, right? I mean, look at us, we just did something…beautiful, and we’re not allowing ourselves to enjoy it.”
You chuckle softly, fidgeting with one of the ends of the towel. “It is kind of ridiculous, huh? Sorry that I freaked out and you had to do…that.”
”I’m not. Sorry, that is. I’m glad you asked for my help. We’re in this together.” Jungkook gives you a smile, similar to the one he wore when he knocked on your door over an hour ago, and takes up the hand not pinching at the towel in his, squeezing it. “I don’t know that I can even begin to articulate with words just what this means to me. Thank you so much.”
“It means a lot to me, as well. Being able to do this for you and Jiyoon is not something you need to thank me for. I’d do anything for her. She’s my best friend. We’ve been through so much together over the last twenty years…I just want to see her happy. You, too, of course.”
Jungkook hums in the back of his throat, keeping his hand wrapped around yours as he leans back, using the side of the tub for support. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, spanning several minutes until Jungkook speaks again. “Have you ever thought about being a mom, you know, before this?”
It’s on the tip of your tongue to answer with what you think he wants to hear, that this has always been your wish, but instead, you choose to give him an honest answer. “Not really.”
”Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”
If it were anyone else asking, you might mind, but…
You purse your lips before offering yet another truth. “I guess I just…I’m me, you know?”
”No, I don’t think I do know. What do you mean?”
“I’m a single woman in my thirties with no prospects on the horizon. My last boyfriend was over five years ago. I’m a modern-day spinster. Nothing is wrong with that, I love who I am…I just, no one has ever shown interest in me like that. Though it’s not necessary to have another person in the picture, it’s just that…I don’t even know, I’m rambling, sorry.”
Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, and it’s so hard to read his expression. All you want to do is plead with him to tell you what’s on his mind.
“You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” he finally says.
”Do what?” you ask, uncertain what he’s referring to.
“Sell yourself short like that. You are easily one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. You have a successful career and amazing tastes in art and food. Not to mention, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’re…you’re amazing, and I know for a fact that people think so, too.”
You puff out a breath, trying not to laugh at him. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Because I’m one of them. I wouldn’t choose just anyone to do this with. After all, the baby will be half of you, too. A win-win in my book.” The corner of his mouth tilts in a small smile.
You’re pretty certain you’ve never had something create such a viscerally emotional response in you. It takes everything you have to blink away the sudden onslaught of tears that threaten to overwhelm you.
When you finally think you can speak without melting into a blubbering mess, you whisper, “I think you’re pretty amazing, too.”
💔💔💔
Jungkook
It’s well after midnight by the time Jungkook makes it home. He’s positively buzzing and can’t even think about going to bed just yet. There is far too much going on in his head, so he decides to expend some energy in the tiny home gym he turned one of the spare rooms into.
The condo he and Jiyoon bought two years into their marriage is spacious, spanning half the second and third floors of the building. There is a three-car garage on the first floor, as well as an elevator that leads to the landing out front. Across the landing is where Taehyung lives with his roommate Jimin, another well-to-do model they met through Kim Exclusives.
Jiyoon stuck her nose up at the fact that Taehyung was buying the unit across from them when Jungkook first told her, but so far, it hasn’t caused too many problems over the years. It helps at times like this, when Jiyoon is traveling for work, to have a friend so close by. Usually, Jungkook would knock next door when he can’t get his head cleared, but for some reason, Jungkook doesn’t want to tell Taehyung about what happened at your place. He doesn’t want to tell anyone, for that matter, holding onto it as a private thing for as long as possible.
Losing himself in sets of squats and curls is far safer than describing in maddening detail the way your soft, lush—Jungkook slams his hand against the squat rack and forces his thoughts away from that line of thinking.
Just because you’re a gorgeous woman with a nice body doesn’t give him the right to think about you like that. Especially considering he’s married to your best friend, whom he loves more than anything. Besides, he’s better than that, knows the whole alpha male hindbrain is the stuff of fantasy. There is no excuse for him having such sordid and outlandish thoughts about you like that. It was simply doing what needed to be done to help—for the baby.
With that in his mind instead, he moves through the motions of his workout. By the time he’s dripping sweat and his muscles are trembling with fatigue, the sun is starting to peek through the windows, and he hasn’t thought about you in hours—well, not much, at least. And when he does, he says it's just because he's thinking of what might be passed down to your baby—er—his and Jiyoon's baby—he reminds himself.
It’s been an excruciating three weeks waiting and waiting to hear from you about something other than work. After Jiyoon returned home from her business trip, Jungkook told her about that night, including the accidental slip-up. At first, she was upset, accusing him of taking advantage of her best friend. It took hours of strained conversation to get her to understand that it was more of a clinical procedure than Jungkook fingering you.
When that accusation was first thrown out, Jungkook was at a loss for words and completely thrown off the tracks. Jiyoon apologized, saying she didn’t understand how he didn’t think she’d be upset about it but that she’d forgive him for it anyway. She then gathered Jungkook into her arms, and they cuddled in bed for the first time in what felt like forever.
Jungkook wasn’t sure if Jiyoon would confront you at work over it, but as the days continued on without a peep from you, he figured things were okay between the two of you. There were times when Jungkook wished something had gone down with you and Jiyoon because then, at least, he’d have an excuse to talk to you in a way that didn’t make him look like he only cared about you now that you were possibly pregnant or with something work-related.
He knows these things take time, and there is only so much he can do. So, he’s been pouring himself into work and filling his schedule with as many activities as possible to keep his mind off of waiting.
“Jungkook, let’s go.” Taehyung raps his knuckles on Jungkook’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. “Head out of the clouds, daddy-o, we’re needed in hair and makeup.”
Sighing, Jungkook hauls himself off the couch in the studio waiting room and follows Taehyung into the space where the makeup and hair artists are set up. He arrived at the studio early this morning and had spent the last hour spilling his guts to Taehyung, something he promised himself he wouldn’t do but couldn’t keep it contained any longer.
“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook grumbles.
Taehyung smirks. “What? Is that not what you’re hoping to be called? Don’t tell me you and Jiyoon are into daddy roleplay. That might make it a little weird to have your kid also call you daddy—ow!”
Rubbing the back of his head where Jungkook smacked him, Taehyung harrumphs before sidestepping the line of chairs and taking a seat in the one farthest from Jungkook.
“Fuck off, Taehyung. After everything I just told you, that’s all you have to say?”
Taehyung throws up his hands, and the hairdresser at his station begins to comb through his black tresses. “The way it seems to me, you’re the only one making a big deal about this. If you want to check on her, I’m sure she won’t think it’s only because she’s your possible surrogate and not because you’re friends after this. And sure, you stuck your fingers into your wife’s best friend’s vagina, but so what? It was what you needed to do. If I really needed you to touch my dick in order to complete an important procedure, I hope you’d do it with a smile on your face.”
Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but closes it when he realizes he can’t really argue against that. Taehyung is right. He did what he had to do. Hell, he knows that, he used those words himself when explaining it to Jiyoon. There’s just this feeling he can’t shake, he’s far too nervous and on edge right now. If only you’d reach out, put him out of his misery with an update.
“I hate it when you’re right. I’ll stop being such a—”
“Hi, guys.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, only staff and models are allowed back here.”
“Whoa, hey, wait. She’s our manager, and she can be here.” Jungkook is quick to spout, not caring if there is desperation evident in his voice. Once his eyes landed on you, it was all he could do not to jump up from the makeup chair, cross the room, and drop to his knees and beg for an update.
The directing assistant who stepped in your path gives you a once-over that makes Jungkook grind his teeth, but he just sighs and steps to the side. “Okay, but you’re both needed on set in fifteen,” he says, directing the last part toward Jungkook and Taehyung.
“It’s okay, I won’t be long. I just…” You hold up a thin manilla envelope and give it a shake. “Jiyoon is out of the office for the day, she said I should let you see first and that you could tell her later tonight at home. So, here I am. I thought we could look together.”
The makeup artist dabbing a sponge on Jungkook’s jaw lifts an eyebrow when he jerks forward in the chair, intent on scrambling across the room despite being in the middle of blending.
“Two minutes,” she says, stepping back from Jungkook and turning to the makeup collection on her table.
“Okay!” Jungkook springs from the chair and rushes over to you, having no regard for the way his hair flops out of place on his forehead. “Hi,” he says when he’s standing in front of you. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment today.”
“I didn’t,” you tell him. “I just wasn’t feeling all that well this morning, so…well, I just wanted to ensure everything was okay. They had to do a pregnancy test, it was routine.” You offer the folder to him. “Want to do the honors?”
Jungkook’s fingers are trembling as he takes the folder from you. It takes him three tries to get the flap open and to extract the slip of paper inside. You give him an encouraging smile as he looks to you for reassurance before letting his eyes sweep over the report.
“It’s…we’re…you’re…holy fuck. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant! YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Jungkook shouts before breaking out into a bout of ecstatic laughter. “Fucking hell, oh my god, you’re pregnant! I’m going to be a father. Me. A father. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes!”
You join in his laughter, the sound pleasant and musical, as he throws his arms around you and spins you in a circle. There are shining tears in your eyes when he sets you down again, happiness clear on your face. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper, the words reverent and full of awe.
There have never been more beautiful words. Jungkook can’t help but say them again. “We’re pregnant.”
It’s hard to say if what Jungkook is feeling right now is considered a healthy response to what his wife, Jiyoon, just told him. But, the erratic beat of his heart paired with the incessant ringing in his ears doesn’t necessarily feel bad, just like he’s having some sort of out-of-body experience.
“Say that again,” he requests, softly smacking his lips, trying to work moisture back into his mouth.
Jiyoon sighs, shuffling the papers on her lap. “I’m pregnant,” she repeats the same words you said just two weeks ago.
“You’re certain?” Jungkook wants to believe he heard her correctly but can’t help asking for clarity again.
“I am.” Jiyoon smiles at Jungkook, her eyes watery. “It’s right here, look.”
Jungkook hesitantly takes the top sheet of paper from Jiyoon, letting his eyes devour the words and numbers on it. It’s all there, everything he needs to see and know for the truth—hCG levels far, far above average, an inked red circle around it along with a doctor’s barely legible scrawl of ‘pregnant’ beside that.
“How far along? It’s been—” Jungkook pauses to try to do the math in his head; it’s been weeks since they were last intimate—the night they agreed to do ICI.
“About eight weeks,” Jiyoon offers. “I suspected a few weeks ago, you know, when I was a little sick that weekend—the one when we found out about, well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up or disappoint you if it wasn’t true, especially after such good news…so I scheduled an appointment. I had to be sure, had to be certain.”
“You’re pregnant.” The words feel thick on Jungkook’s tongue, like he’s trying to talk through a mouthful of peanut butter; sweet, decadent peanut butter.
“I am,” she whispers, the confirmation turning into a squeal of laughter as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and shouts his own happiness.
Peppering kisses all over Jiyoon’s face, Jungkook hops around, alternating between shouting how much he loves her and how he can’t believe his luck. “I’m going to be a father. Twice! What did I do to deserve this?! I love you so much. Fuck!”
“Calm down,” Jiyoon giggles. “Put me down before you make me hurl.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Jungkook pants, setting Jiyoon back down on her feet. “I’m just so excited!” He wiggles his hips and shimmies his shoulders. “We’ll need to order a second crib. Should we have the babies share a room at first? That seems the easier option, right? I bet there is a book on that somewhere, I need to go—”
“Hey, calm, right?” Jiyoon’s smile is warm, soft. “We have time. There is no need to rush. Can we just enjoy this for a little while longer?” she asks, grabbing one of his hands and placing it over her belly.
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” Pressing his forehead to hers, Jungkook wraps his other arms around Jiyoon and sighs contentedly. “I love you so much, babe.”
“I love you, too, Jungkook.”
💔💔💔
Jiyoon seems nervous, pushing around the chopped salad on her plate as she chews her bottom lip. She hasn’t met your eyes the entire time you’ve been at lunch. You want to ask her what’s wrong, but you’ve been friends with her long enough to know that she’ll come to you with it when she wants, and pushing won’t do you any good.
“So,” she draws the word out, lips forming an exaggerated pucker.
“Yes?”
“How are you feeling?” You can tell that’s not what she wants to say or ask, but you indulge her anyway, hoping you’ll get to the actual matter of why she insisted on going to lunch with you today.
You shift in your seat, setting your fork down on your half-empty plate. “I feel good. I just have some nausea in the mornings sometimes, but it’s not too bad.”
Finally, Jiyoon’s eyes come up to meet yours. “I know what you mean,” she says, the words slow and enunciated—pointed. Her free hand flutters over her belly as if for emphasis.
“What?” The word is more breath than question. “You are?”
“I am,” Jiyoon confirms, tears shining in her eyes.
“Oh, my goodness! Jiyoon! What? But how? Oh my goodness! That’s wonderful!” You can’t contain your excitement for your friend, throwing yourself across the tabletop to hug her fiercely.
She’s laughing as you sit back down, clearly buzzing with her own excitement. “We just found out. It seems a miracle was in our cards after all. It’s still early, nine weeks or so now.” That would make it just two weeks, give or take, before you and Jungkook did the ICI.
“Wow,” you breathe, your own hand landing on your stomach. “They might as well be twins. It’ll be so cool—what?” Jiyoon’s frown stilts your excitement. “What is it?”
She casts her eyes away from yours again, pulling her full bottom lip between her teeth before letting it pop back out. “I don’t know. I just thought…it’s not too late if you wanted to—I just know it’s a lot on someone, your body, the pain and everything that comes after. And now that I’m pregnant, it’s just, we don’t expect you to continue…if you don’t want. We’d be completely understanding and fully supportive if you—”
“Termination? Is that…what you’re talking about? And Jungkook agrees?”
Her nose wrinkles. “I don’t like that word. I’m just saying that we will support your decision to do that if you’d like. It was never in the plans to have more than one child, and now it would be two newborns at the same time…that’s a lot, you know? Twice as many diapers, bottles, and sleepless nights. It would be hard to say goodbye, but we’d still love you and not think less of you for it.”
Your mouth feels too dry for you to form words. You know what she’s saying. Though there isn’t a single ounce of you that desires that, you also understand the hesitation Jiyoon is expressing. She’s right. There wasn’t a plan for two babies. So, what now? Do you volunteer to help? Do you seek out the advice of a lawyer to know where your parental rights might sit in the case they decide they don’t want the baby in the end? So many thoughts swirl through your mind that it makes you dizzy.
“Can I think about it?” you ask, feeling for the first time a wave of uncertainty.
Jiyoon gives you what you assume is supposed to be an assuring smile. “Of course. And if you decide not to, I’m sure we can come up with some sort of system. We’ll figure it out.”
She seems so sure that no matter your decision, it’ll all be okay. “Really?”
“Absolutely. I want—we want, these babies, even if we didn’t plan for two. I was just letting you know that there is that option if you want it.”
“I-I don’t think I do, but if that changes…I’ll let you know.”
“That’s all I ask! Now, tell me, what do you think it’ll be?” she asks, patting her flat stomach again. “A boy or a girl? I’m leaning more towards a boy…”
💔💔💔
Jungkook
Jungkook still can’t believe his life. Two babies—two extraordinary miracles, it’s surreal—perfect. His calendar has never been more full. There’s the regular schedule of photo shoots, meetings, and other client work but now those are penned in between the baby classes he’s signed up for and various doctor’s appointments.
One of which is scheduled this afternoon, just a few hours after another this morning. There is your ten-week and then Jiyoon’s three-month appointment. Things have been going great with the pregnancies being so close together, but it does sometimes make appointments and times overlap. Which is how Jungkook finds himself sprinting across the parking lot of Jiyoon’s doctor’s office. He’s late—really late. He didn’t mean to arrive so late. It’s just that your appointment ran a little longer than expected, and traffic wasn’t exactly on his side, either.
Just as Jungkook puts his hand on the handle to open the door to the doctor’s office, it swings outward, nearly smacking him in the face. Jiyoon glares at him, a peeved sigh escaping her.
“You missed it.”
“What? No. I still have—” he glances down at his watch. “The appointment should have lasted at least forty-five minutes, and it’s only been thirty.”
Jiyoon rolls her eyes. “They were able to get me in a few minutes early.” She pushes past him and starts towards her car. “Everything is fine, by the way. The baby is measuring small but is still healthy. Thanks for asking,” she snarks, holding up a length of printed film.
Jungkook grabs the strip from her hand, jogging to keep up with her angry strides. “Wow,” he whispers, looking down at the 2D images. “She’s beautiful, so tiny.”
“She? It could be a boy.”
“Is that what you hope it is?” Jungkook asks, skipping ahead of Jiyoon before turning and walking backwards in front of her. His eyes barely leave the black-and-white grainy images. He traces over the faintly-there contours of the face, the delicate nose and forehead.
Clicking the unlock button on her keyfob, Jiyoon sighs again. “I just want it to be healthy. I don’t care what gender it is.”
“You don’t care?” Jungkook purses his lips, finally looking up at his wife. She’s wearing a designer pantsuit, the deep navy complementing her porcelain complexion and making the red lip she has on pop beautifully. Pregnancy looks good on her. He opens his mouth to tell her so when she cuts him off.
“Don’t say it like that. Of course, I care. Good god, Jungkook, why do you have to make me feel like shit all the time? First you missed my appointment, because why? Because you were busy playing daddy to someone else. And now, here you are, accusing me of being a terrible mother before it’s even born. Fuck you. Fuck you, Jungkook.”
Jungkook is so confused. “What? I didn’t—playing daddy? What are you talking about? I already said I was sorry for missing the appointment, you know the times were really close. It was her ten-week appointment. They were measuring her nuchal translucency, you remember how important that is!”
“Whatever,” Jiyoon deadpans, pushing around Jungkook and climbing into her car. “I have a meeting tonight, don’t wait up for me.”
Before Jungkook can respond, the door slams shut, Jiyoon turns over the engine, and takes off. Maybe not everything is perfect, he laments to himself, mulling over his earlier thoughts. With a determined expression on his face, Jungkook makes his way to his own car and promises to do his best to make this right, vowing not to let something like this happen again.
Of course, it’s only some weeks later that Jungkook has to break this vow. It’s not his fault, it’s no ones. It seems that life just wants to test him, perhaps make sure he’s honing his time management skills for when the babies come.
Everything has been going great since his hiccup with missing Jiyoon’s twelve-week appointment. He’s been able to shuffle around his schedule and work with the both of you to ensure appointments don’t overlap or are too close together.
Jiyoon has become reliant on him, which is something Jungkook revels in. It’s like their marriage is finally back to the way it once was, full of nights cuddled in bed and romantic dinners—sans the wine. While you’ve been fiercely independent, yet charmingly sweet when it comes to Jungkook and Jiyoon and sharing the pregnancy experience with them.
There have been a few discussions about the fact that now there are going to be two babies instead of one. Jungkook has spent nearly all of his free time turning the guest bedroom into a nursery fit for two. His home gym has become a catch-all, most of the equipment being confined into a corner to make room for the furniture that came out of the guest room-now-nursery.
It’s been a lot, but it’s something Jungkook would never trade for anything in all the world. He’s positively jubilant over the prospect of being a father. It’s something he’s dreamed about for as long as he can remember. Now, it’s just a few months away, a permanent light in his life.
“J-jungkook?” your trembling voice sounds through his phone when he swipes to answer the call, tossing the paint roller into the bucket. Butter yellow coats the walls of the nursery and dots the hem of his old t-shirt.
“Hey, is everything okay?”
“I think so. I don’t know. I slipped on the stairs, I’m at the ER right now—”
“I’m on my way!”
“Jungkook, no. It’s okay. I know you have things going on today. I just thought I should tell you. Jiyoon was in a meeting, so Namjoon said he’d pass her a memo when she was done.”
He’s supposed to attend a First-Time Fathers class in an hour, and Jiyoon has her twenty-two-week anatomy scan this afternoon. The class can wait. If he’s lucky, he can go to the ER, check on you, and then make it to Jiyoon’s appointment.
“No, no, you’re not sitting in the ER by yourself. I’ll text Jiyoon and let her know that I’m leaving now to come check on you.”
“O-okay.”
The line disconnects, and Jungkook slaps the lid on the paint bucket and throws a plastic sheet over the paint tray. If it dries out, then it dries out. Paint can be replaced; your health is far more crucial right now.
Walking into the entryway, he thumbs open his messages and types out a quick text to Jiyoon before tossing his phone on the small bench by the door so he can pull on his shoes.
It’s a twenty-minute drive to the hospital, and it takes another ten minutes of searching to find you sitting in a waiting room with a large ice pack resting on your right foot.
“Hey, are you okay? Have you been seen yet? How long have you been here? What happened?”
You hold up a hand to ward off more of his word vomit, an embarrassed smile soft on your face. “Slow down, have a seat. I’m okay. They said I should be called back soon.”
Instead of sitting, Jungkook kneels on the floor in front of you. His fingers the ice pack, his face falling even further. “What happened?”
“I slipped in the stairwell at work, missed the last step and came down hard on the side of my foot.”
“Can I?” he asks, fingers moving to the corner of the ice pack.
You nod. “Yeah.”
Lifting it gently, Jungkook takes in the sight of your foot. The black ballet flats you’re wearing give him a clear view of the swelling that’s already beginning along the top and side of your foot.
“Do you want me to find a wheelchair?”
Before you can answer Jungkook a nurse comes through one of the doors, pushing a wheelchair. She wheels it over to you and says, “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Jungkook slips his arm under yours as you stand before slowly helping you lower into the wheelchair. “Would you like to push her back?” the nurse asks Jungkook.
“I can come?” he wonders, hopeful.
“Of course. Unless you’d rather wait out here, and I can call for you when your wife is done.”
“Oh, she’s not—”
“I’d like for you to come if that’s okay? I don’t really want to be alone,” you interject before Jungkook can correct the nurse. She gives Jungkook a polite nod and gestures towards the door she came through.
“Please come right this way. We’ll need to get a quick weight and a urine sample before I can get you into your room, where the doctor will see you shortly.”
Jungkook aids you the best he can, helping you to and from the wheelchair as he can. He almost asks if you want him to come into the restroom with you, but you give him a quick shake of your head before closing the door on him.
What feels like an eternity later, you’re finally settled on a bed with Jungkook sitting in the chair beside it.
“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “I know I said I wanted you to come back with me, and it’s not that I want you to leave, but please don’t feel obligated to stay. I know you have a lot of other things going on.”
Shifting his chair closer, Jungkook reaches for one of your hands. “Nonsense. I’m glad you called. I feel bad that I haven’t been to as many doctor’s appointments with you. I feel like it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve even seen you. I wish our schedules worked out a little better. Perhaps, as my manager, there’s something you can do about that?” he asks, giving you a jesting wink.
“I was trying to give you more time to go to Jiyoon’s appointments!” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand.
“I know, but in case you forgot, you’re also carrying my child. Don’t get me wrong, though, the texts are great, and I really appreciate the weekly baby bump pictures, but it’d be nice to actually see you. Though, maybe next time, let’s make it not where you’re laid up in a hospital bed, not yet, at least,” he adds on with a low laugh.
This is the first time Jungkook has seen your bump in person. The soft swell under your shirt calls to him, and he wonders if it would be okay to touch it. As if you’re reading his mind, you take the hand that’s wrapped around yours and press it gently over your stomach.
“Kinda weird, huh?”
“No. No, not weird at all,” Jungkook says, being completely raw and honest with you. Jiyoon is touchy about her belly, pun wholly not intended, seeing as she doesn’t let him touch her bump nearly as much as he’d like to. She’s only recently started to show, and it’s hitting her hard, with which Jungkook tries to empathize. He can’t imagine being pregnant and how much a body changes; he’d probably feel things like that, too.
He spends a moment absorbing the feel, trying to imagine the little life growing just a few inches below his hand. Life he helped create. He’s so in awe he could cry…if it wasn’t for the door opening and breaking the momentary spell over him.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Lee. I’ll be your attending today. I hear you slipped down the stairs today and are worried your foot might be broken?” The cheery, middle-aged woman chatters away, washing her hands and drying them off before offering one to you and then to Jungkook.
“Yeah. I missed the last step and landed on the side of my foot pretty hard.” You shake your head with a rueful smile. “I should have just waited for the elevator.”
“Oh, ouch. Let’s take a look,” Dr. Lee coos. “May I?” She gestures to the blanket covering your feet. Jungkook helped you remove your shoes once you were in bed and tossed the blanket over your feet so they wouldn’t get cold.
“Of course.”
Dr. Lee pulls back the blanket and gently probes at your foot, turning it slowly side to side to get a better look. “Does this hurt?” she asks as she rotates your ankle.
“A little, not as much as putting pressure on it, though.”
The doctor nods. “I think it might be best if we do an x-ray just to be sure it’s not broken.”
“Won’t that be harmful to the baby?” Jungkook asks.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to protect your little one.” Jungkook nods his understanding. “Is it your first? You look a little green around the gills, first-time-father jitters.”
Jungkook isn’t entirely sure how to answer that. Because, technically…no? Considering Jiyoon is approximately two weeks further along than you are. Would that make her baby his first? A laugh, barely restrained, simmers deep in Jungkook’s chest.
“Something like that,” he finally says, earning another warm smile from the doctor.
“Alright, let’s get started so I can get you two out of here as soon as possible.”
The word ‘soon’ should be a relative term when it comes to hospitals—or a word that hospital staff is barred from using. Jungkook doesn’t mind spending the hours waiting with you. In fact, you’re pretty pleasant company. That’s not to say Jiyoon isn’t when Jungkook attends appointments with her; there’s just a different level of expectation, he thinks. He hopes this baby will have your patience and grace like that.
Jiyoon wants a quiet observer sitting in the corner, whereas you’re welcoming to his insights and curiosities. You haven’t hushed him a single time when he’s voiced a question of any of the medical staff. In fact, it almost seems like you welcome it, comfortable in letting him show his concern for you.
Thankfully, the x-ray showed no break or fracture. You’ve been given a temporary boot to wear for the next week and strict instructions not to overdo it. “Got it,” you say once the nurse has finished explaining everything to you.
“Now, before we discharge you, we would like to have a sonographer brought in to check on the baby. According to your charts and file, you’re at the twenty-week mark now.”
Jungkook stands up, panic worming its way in. “Should we be worried? Is everything okay?”
The nurse gives him a motherly smile. “That’s what we would like to check.” She turns her attention to you. “You didn’t fall on your belly, but with any trauma to the body, it never hurts just to be sure.”
Of course. That makes sense to Jungkook, but he looks to you for confirmation. “Yeah? You want to do that?”
“That would be great, thanks.”
Jungkook has only attended two live ultrasounds in all the doctor’s appointments he has been to. He has many printed ultrasound images that are now stuck to the refrigerator at home, one side for Jiyoon and the other for you. But he’s only managed to attend one for Jiyoon and one for you, so this will be a wonderful treat.
“Okay, they’ll be here in just a moment.”
A few moments pass after the nurse leaves the room, and Jungkook allows himself to truly assess his internal feelings. He’s thankful that you’re okay and will feel even more at ease once the ultrasound confirms the baby is alright, too. It’s wild for Jungkook to think that just a few months ago, his life felt like it was on the verge of falling apart. There was a steadily growing rift between him and Jiyoon, and you were just Jiyoon’s best friend.
Now, however, he feels closer than ever to his wife, and you’ve managed to carve out your own little pocket in his heart, too. It’s alarming, yet comforting, to realize that there is something more between you and him—a deepening connection that’s still delicate but growing more solid with each passing day.
“You feeling okay?” Your voice breaks through Jungkook’s reverie.
“Hm? Me? I’m great,” he assures, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. You’ve barely let his hand go the entire time, to which Jungkook won’t complain. “Does it hurt much?” Jungkook nods toward the end of the bed, where your feet are back under the blanket.
You shrug. “It’s not so bad while laying here.”
“Hi!” a bubbly voice calls from the door a second before a young blond woman wheels an imaging cart into the room. “Are we ready to get a look at your little one before you guys go home?”
“Yep.” You give Jungkook’s hand a light squeeze. “Excited?” you ask in a soft voice meant only for him.
“Very,” he tells you, sitting up straighter in his chair.
“Now, this won’t be nearly as good as if we were in radiology in an exam room, but all we really want is to get a look to make sure everything is okay. Besides, who doesn’t want to take a peek when you get the chance, right?”
The tech, with Jungkook’s assistance, helps you adjust on the bed until you’re in a comfortable position for the ultrasound. Jungkook feels frozen as you tug your blouse up and over your belly, giving him his first real glimpse of the swell in all its glory. It’s one thing to see it through your shirt, another thing entirely to see it like this.
“Cold,” you chuckle as the tech squeezes a glob of contact gel onto your lower belly.
“Sorry about that, these carts unfortunately don’t have the warmers on them. Ah, here we are,” she sing-songs when she smoothes the wand over the gel. “Look at that.”
Jungkook tears his eyes from your face, focusing his gaze on the imaging machine's display screen. His breath stutters in his lungs, and a wave of pure, unrestrained joy washes over him.
“They’re perfect,” he says, voice thick with emotion. Jungkook watches as an arm moves across the screen, followed by a little kicking foot.
“Seeing them never ceases to take my breath away.” You take the words right out of Jungkook’s mouth.
The tech hums, giving you a soft smile as she moves the wand around to different angles. “No gender yet?” she asks. “I’ll try to be careful here, don’t want to have any spoilers…unless you would like to know?”
It’s hard not to be curious. “Is it not too early to tell?” Jungkook asks.
Turning the screen slightly away from you and Jungkook, the tech says, “Um, nope. Not too early. Everything looks good, though. So, if you’d rather wait, we can get cleaned up and be done here.”
“What do you say?” Jungkook looks at you with a raised brow.
Your teeth leave a dent in your bottom lip as you worry it for a moment. Another thing he thinks would be cute to see his mini-me do. “I kind of want to, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he admits, loving the fact that you do.
“Okay, wonderful. In that case,” the tech says before moving the screen back and adjusting the wand on your belly. “Take a look here.”
When Jungkook arrives home, the sun has long since gone down, but he’s so high on cloud nine that he can’t bring himself to care. The large smile on his face hasn’t slipped in the slightest.
Jungkook is certain nothing can bring him down. At least, that is, until he walks through the front door of his condo and straight into hell. Jiyoon is sitting at their dining table, her expression completely devoid of emotion.
“Hey, babe. What’s going on?” Jungkook hesitantly asks, eyes sweeping the open layout and taking note that the only light on is the recessed one directly over Jiyoon. His smile slowly fades, replaced with a crease between his brows.
“What’s going on?” she asks in a cold voice.
“Is everything okay?”
Jiyoon sniffs, her eyes narrowing, the first sign of emotion he’s seen since he walked in. “No. Everything is not okay.”
“O…kay,” Jungkook draws the word out, letting his mind flip through its internal catalog, trying to find pieces of the puzzle to put together.
“Where have you been?”
“There was an accident. Did you get the note from—”
“You’ve not answered any of my calls or texts.”
“I sent you a text before I left. I think I misplaced my phone, I can’t seem to find—”
“You missed my appointment!” she sneers, cutting him off once more. “And you did not text me. I haven’t heard from you since this morning.”
Realization hits, and the warmth drains from Jungkook’s face. He was so focused on everything with you, the panic and then the joy, that he completely spaced on everything else he should have done today. But also…
“I swear I texted you to let you know I was going to the hospital. I was going to make sure everything was okay.” As soon as your name falls from his lips Jiyoon shoves back from the table and rounds it, getting in his face. “She slipped at work and thought she might have broken her foot. Namjoon was supposed to give you a note about it since you were in a meeting. She called me. I was worried. I didn’t mean to miss your appointment. Were they able to determine the gender?”
Jiyoon jabs a finger in the center of his chest. “Not. Good. Enough. I’m your wife, not her! You’re supposed to be with me! Instead, you spend all your fucking time with your nose up her ass when you barely even know her!” Jungkook staggers back as her poke turns into a fully-palmed shove. “You’re un-fucking-believable! What a goddamn joke.”
“Jiyoon, that’s not fair. Something could have been wrong with the baby. It was an emergency,” Jungkook says, trying to make Jiyoon see reason.
It doesn’t work.
“Fuck you! Why do you care so fucking much about that stupid baby?! All you do is fawn over the photos and re-read her text updates! This,” she gestures wildly at her stomach, “is the baby you should care about! Yet you can’t even show up when it counts.”
“You can’t be serious. This is ridiculous.” Jungkook keeps his tone level, refusing to be baited into a knock-down-drag-out with her.
“No!” Jiyoon screams, making Jungkook flinch. “You are ridiculous.” Suddenly a menacing smile cuts across her face. “I bet you slept with her. Didn’t you? That’s it, you’re feeling possessive because you fucked my best friend, and that’s how she got knocked up, isn’t it?”
Jiyoon’s words spark a ringing in Jungkook’s ears. “What?” he whispers, the word barely forming.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Jungkook. I know you too well for that. Let’s not forget your little slip-up—” she throws up air quotes as she says that “—the night you supposedly did ICI.”
“I told you it was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it!”
Sarcasm is a heavy, bitter layer in Jiyoon’s reply, “You just so happened to touch her clit? Just a little oopsie, so innocent. You’re too nice to outright lie to me, so, of course, you come up with some half-truth, expecting me to believe that you didn’t want it, that you weren’t secretly gnawing at the opportunity to try and seduce my best friend!”
“That is not what happened at all!”
“So I’m supposed to believe my pathetically inexperienced best friend is the one that seduced you, then?”
“What? That’s not what I said at all. No one seduced anyone. You’re being fucking crazy right now. You know I’d never do that to y—”
The crack of Jiyoon’s palm against his jaw stuns him into silence. “Don’t you dare call me crazy!” she screams. “You’d never do that to me? Yeah, right. You’re a man, and that’s what men do! Heaven forbid a woman works hard and spends time away from the home, trying to provide for her family. Is that it? I’m gone too much for your sad little dick, so you have to chase after the first desperate pussy that comes your way?”
Jungkook presses his fingers over the searing heat licking up his jaw where her hand struck him. “Jiyoon, no, it’s not like that at all,” he says, losing his momentum because he’s not sure what he can say at this point to make her see reason. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”
“Fucking my best friend because she’s convenient and out of spite for me being gone so much? No, that sounds exactly like something you would do. Well, looks like it’s your lucky day because two can play that game, asshole. Enjoy your fucking prize!”
Jungkook jerks back, as if Jiyoon just slapped him again. “What does that mean?”
She laughs, the sound deep and throaty. “This baby—” she seethes, rubbing over the small swell of her belly, voice rising with every word “—it’s not yours, you pathetic bastard!”
Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon)
◅ Back to story masterlist
◅ Back to Main Master List
©️ 2024-02-13 ColorMePurplex2
#jungkook x reader#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#dilf jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook imagines#bts smut#bts angst#jungkook x you#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fanfiction#bts imagines#bangtanwhq#btsfests
858 notes
·
View notes
Text
Surprises (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)
Summary: Price finds out at a family gathering that his favorite niece's new boyfriend is none other than Ghost. The lieutenant thinks he's in trouble. How bad can things be?
Note: A little fluff and angst. What do you think? / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button.
Simon knew he fucked up the moment he realized you were Price's niece.
The very niece he babysat several times when you were little, the one he talked so much about whenever they were discussing family. He loved you, he was proud of you, and despite you now being an independent young woman, he still treated you as if you were an expensive and rare piece of jewelry that had to be locked away.
So yes, when he attended a family event you invited him to and met the captain there, he knew he was in trouble. You had talked about your Uncle John before, sure, even joked about the two of them possibly knowing each other, but not even in his wildest dream could he suspect the two men being the same.
And now he was sitting there across from him at the long picnic table in the garden, his blue eyes piercing through his skull. Every time you intertwined your fingers with his on top of the table or leaned over to place a soft kiss on his cheek, he could almost hear the annoyed groan leave his lips.
You suddenly rested your head on his shoulder, smiling sweetly when he looked down at you. He couldn't help himself, he just followed his instincts when he leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of your head. That move made the captain snap.
"Simon, why don't you help me bring out some nice, cold drinks?"
He gulped before nodding, his entire body suddenly going rigid from the terror he felt. "Hey, he barks, but doesn't bite. You'll be fine," you assured him as you kissed his shoulder through his shirt.
With a sigh, he stood up and followed Price into the kitchen, carefully closing the door after himself. "Look, Cap, I didn't know she was your niece. I'm sorry. But trust me, I'm serious about this relationship. I really like her," he began to explain the situation without hesitation.
But Price didn't seem interested in his excuses as he was quick to raise a hand to stop him. "I don't care, Simon. She likes you too, it's obvious and she told me before, I just don't want her to suffer if…"
If he dies on the field. That's what he wanted to say, he knew that. Nodding, he leaned against the kitchen island and folded his arms over his chest. The two of them stood there in silence for a while, trying to figure out what to do now. Simon understood why Price was so worried about this relationship, but he also had to understand that he wasn't about to give you up.
"Would you be happier if she was dating a civilian? Some loser who doesn't even know what he wants to do with his life?" he asked to break the silence.
Price drew in a sharp breath that he let out while running a hand through his hair. It was easy to tell he was dying to light a cigar, but his sister had a strict no smoking in the house rule. So he settled with the second best option and began pacing in front of him.
"You, as a person, are not the problem, Simon," he began. "You're a good man, I know that. The problem is our line of work. And the fact I'm your higher-up, and now I have to think about you not only as my right hand, but also as the boyfriend of my favorite niece. Every time I send you somewhere dangerous, I'll have to consider how she would react if something happened to you."
With a loud gulp, Simon considered his reasoning. He was right. Everything he said was understandable. "If you think it would be better if we broke up, just say it," he told him eventually.
There was no response for a while, they stood there in silence once again. But then Price shook his head and extended his hand. "Just make her happy, that's all I'm asking for," he said with a smile. "And don't tell her that we know each other. I don't want her to worry."
Hesitantly, but Simon shook his hand. He had no idea what made the captain change his mind, but he didn't have an issue with that as long as he was okay with him being with you. He then opened the fridge and began to put a selection of drinks on the counter next to it.
Once they made it back to the family, you immediately gave him a worried look, silently asking for a story he wasn't about to give you. So he lied like Price had just asked him to do, even if it hurt like hell.
"Everything's fine, he just wanted to get to know me," he told you with a smile before giving you a quick kiss. "We're good."
"Sure?" you asked with a suspicious look on your face. Simon nodded. "All right, if you say so. I'm glad he likes you," you noted with a smile on your lips.
Before he could say anything, Price raised a hand. "If I might add, you chose well, kiddo," he said with a smile before flashing a smile at the lieutenant.
"I know," you said with a triumphant smile before giving Simon a kiss.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#modern warfare#call of duty#mw2#captain john price#john price
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
badges of honor
simon 'ghost' riley x reader
genre: fluff! (sticker drabble!)
warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, protective!ghost
synopsis: ghost doesn't understand the appeal of receiving stickers, a tangible reward, after the completion of successful missions. never thought it was necessary for his efforts. however, his mindset changes when he finds out you're the one handing them out–
a.n. just a silly lil blurb that floated around in my mind for some time! decided I'd write it and I'm thinking about writing something similar for könig too! hope you're all well! and if you wish to show more support here's my kofi! <3
-
-
-
holding onto the belief that ghost would stubbornly swallow his pride and allow you to decorate him in cutesy unnecessary stickers.
-
it starts with price’s recommendation of implementing a routine of handing out stickers after successful missions. he insists it’s a great way to dial into intrinsic motivation. to keep the task force motivated to dedicate their best into every operation. a way to recognize positive behavior. a byproduct of hoping for the most favorable outcome in war where the only images are bloodshed, conflict, and hostility. it’s a stark difference. “who knows,” price’s shoulders lift into a casual shrug as he addresses the fierce group settled around him, “it might just help you lads.” it’s a harmless and cost-efficient idea to justify the boxes of tangible reinforcements that are shipped to the base. literal cartons of sticker books that range from the traditional ‘great work!’ to ‘prized soldier!’ and the notion seems childish (disguised to be more of a scheme, in all honesty). that is, until the pieces of sticky, illustrated adhesives start working– boosting the soldiers’ determination for the taste of victory– because you’re the one handing out the affordable versions of chest candy. they adore saccharine treats. and over time, so does ghost.
ghost who initially loathes the new process that price endorses. he’s good at his job. knows he’s an expert in clandestine tradecraft. doesn’t need a miniature label tapped on his chest to recognize that no one does a better service in infiltrations or sabotages in risky environments than he does. he’s in and out like a gust of wind. well, more similar to a grim reaper that takes and punishes whoever he deems fit. a brutish force not to be reckoned with. and he reasons that this little sticker ceremony ultimately wastes time. precious alone time that ghost exploits to catch up on some well-deserved rest or exercise. because training after an intense mission totally makes sense to the lieutenant. yet, he’ll doggedly line up with the rest of the task force and await getting crowned with the bane of his existence. doesn’t wish to stir the pot with price and sit through being lectured. so he stays. and he’s a bit taken aback when he catches a glimpse of you handing out the stickers; a beaming smile on your lips while you press an overly exaggerated thumbs-up design onto the front of a soldier’s vest.
ghost who rasps, “I’ll pass,” before your fingers can pin the sticker onto him. unaware that his voice would come out grainy from the weeklong mission and, involuntarily, blunt. brash. the complete opposite of how he wished to sound towards you. notices the surprise in your eyes due to the acidity of his voice and how you instinctively shrink from him. he shifts, straight away, and hastily tries to take back his tone of voice. to right his wrongs. to atone for his mistake. however, your nervous movement is swiftly replaced with your usual upbeat nature as you plaster on a grin and dramatically bring the back of your hand to your forehead to mimic a fall, “woe is me.” you exhale pointedly while mentioning, “whatever shall I do with all these stickers then?” and ghost understands that it’s so typical of you to hide your hurt with witticism. you’re too considerate. too bright. a touch of color to his monochrome soul. venturing a step closer to you, he lightly scoffs at your melodramatic behavior and remarks, “woe is most definitely not you. now get up, pup.” and before you can comprehend, his gloved hand wraps around your wrist to gently pry it away from your face. “changed my mind,” he murmurs while indicating to the book of stickers that you casted aside, “pick one f’ me, will ya.”
ghost who refuses to comment on your shaky fingers to save you from embarrassment. it’s endearing that despite the layers of heavy clothing, you’re still hesitant to touch any part of him. “you’re all set,” you quickly chirp before stepping back to admire your handiwork. or so you tell yourself that excuse. in reality, you’re teetering on the edge of becoming distracted by the heat that he radiates. and he savors how your gaze dances across his masked face but evades his intense eyes. the most profound part of him that reduces you to stumbling on your words like a drunk. intoxicated by him. it’s like he’s drinking you in and allowing himself a selfish taste of your beauty. a thought that causes you to heavily gulp. to take your mind off of the blatant yearning, you teasingly raise the sticker book up to him, “how about I add another one? this one has glitter—” “that’ll do,” ghost interjects and turns to leave. his immediate answer and retreat brings about a genuine laugh from your lips. it’s music to his ears. wagering a glance to his chest, he notes the sticker you chose for him. cursive letters twisting into ‘you’re a star!’ followed by a smiling gold star draws his attention. you don’t spot it but as he leaves, his gloved fingers reach up to smooth the sticker over his vest. to pat it down so it stays a while longer.
ghost who attempts to convince himself that his disinterest toward the small slips of adhesive paper is still the truth. they’re just for show, right? no one really pays attention to how some of the stickers varied in size. they’re all mature adults. and it was completely unrelated how there’s regular bickering amongst various recruits that compared their hard-earned rewards. doesn’t admit that his chest visibly swells with pride whenever the other soldiers point out that ghost always receives the biggest sticker. purposefully taunts them by stating, “get better then, yeah?” he also fails to acknowledge that you’ve coerced and conditioned him to accept them like a pavlov experiment. after all, your unwillingness to comment on how he noticeably leans over so you can put stickers wherever you wished must mean that it doesn’t happen. and in the scenario where it could perhaps occur, you shouldn’t blame him because ghost was certain no one else had the willpower to brush you away. you with gentle fingers and an angelic voice. singing him a siren song whenever you mutter, “for your excellent work, lieutenant,” as you smooth on another ridiculous sticker. his heart stutters in his chest when he feels how your hand tentatively flattens against his chest. the broad muscle causing you to hum appreciatively before gracing him with a coy smile. an interaction that replays in his mind whenever he’s awake and follows him to sleep.
ghost who clenches his fist so tightly that his blunt nails bite into his own palm when he overhears a lowly recruit outrightly insult the implemented routine. hears them utter (when you’re out of earshot of course because goodness forbid that they have courage) ‘bullshit’ and how you were ‘off your rocker for putting up with this waste of time.’ and ghost isn’t usually responsive in situations like this. he’s got a covert operation to focus on in about 15 minutes. a level-headed person was far more intimidating and efficient during classified matters. now, however, his heavy boots thud against the floorboards when he stalks toward the recruit. an abrupt wave of darkness and unabridged horror before the recruit is face-to-face with ghost. “problem?” he asks challenges, voice dead and devoid of sympathy. his head slowly tilts and the action creates a dismal shadow over the eye sockets of his mask. ominous and menacing. everything that ghost is infamous for. knows he’s won when the recruit’s apology is nasally and on the verge of crying but their reaction isn’t his personal interest. what he does undertake as his responsibility, though, is when he’s called into price’s office for a debrief. he pockets some of the miscellaneous sticker books that sit on the superior’s desk. wordlessly hands them to you when you’re both briefly passing each other in the hallway. and while you profusely thank him for the additional sets (vaguely wondering what caused the change in his behavior), you playfully press a sticker above the lower portion of his mask– right where his lips are. somewhere new. you leave him rooted to the spot, the sweet gesture sending him into a stupor, and call over your shoulder, “compensation for the stickers!” he watches as you hurriedly dart away before he can react but there’s no need. he unabashedly smuggles more stickers from price’s office in hopes of reaping a similar repayment again.
ghost who reasons that stickers aren’t that bad if you’re the one giving them out. he organizes himself with the rest of the force, a brooding figure that patiently waits in the back of the line. favors being the last one because you’re able to utter more than a few words of encouragement to him. if he’s lucky then you converse and excitedly share your day with him– like you currently are. “want me all to yourself, do you?” you heartily tease him upon noticing that he’s consistently been last in line for the third time in a row. he shifts on his feet, makes a show of looking around at his fellow team members that are filtering out of the room, and deliberately concedes, “‘suppose so.” his frank answer is followed by a flustered roll of your eyes but it’s the genuineness that causes your heart to flip. you force yourself to concentrate on the task at hand– giving out prizes. unsteady fingers lifting at the sticker page, you skim the options before spotting a perfect one. your teeth catch the edge of your bottom lip as you can’t help but question, “you say that to everyone, simon?” his real name on your glossy lips. a prayer that he desires to hear being chanted over and over as he holds you in his arms. the gaze he wraps you in is burning. tempting. exhilarating. you push yourself up on your toes to reach out and place a sticker on his cheek. on the hard shell of his skull mask that you’ve learned will ultimately end in halfhearted chiding because the adhesive is difficult to remove off of it. ghost catches a glimpse of the sticker that you’ve picked. the bolded words of ‘#1 lieutenant’ flashes at him. and the sticker is like a brand you’ve adorned him in. an embellishment that he proudly displays and wears because it’s what you’ve given him. he hums, dark and inquiring, when he leans to graze his masked lips against your inner wrist. his eyes are heady and half-lidded. clouded with a violent craving for you– always you. visibly strains to make contact with your exposed skin by tilting his head to place another chaste kiss on your hand while murmuring, “just to the sweet ‘n pretty ones that I fancy.”
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost#simon riley#call of duty x reader#call of duty#simon riley imagine#cod x reader#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley drabble#ghost x you#ghost x y/n
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
kinktober day twelve: threesome kink
>>> brain go brrrr! i can only write a stsg threesome i swear it's bad these days. i just love this dynamic so bad and am clinically addicted omfg i hope u all love it as bad as i do--it is officially the longest piece thus far
>>> starring: satoru gojo x curvy!fem!reader x suguru geto
>>> cw: mfm threesome, m/m interaction, fingering (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), spitroasting, reverse cowgirl, double penetration (same hole), overstimulation, hard dom!geto, pleasure dom!gojo, switch gojo, switch reader, squirting, creampie(s).
>>> wc: 5.3k
>>> event masterlist
he’s not sure when things changed. he’d always seen you in one light, he thought: his friend, his teammate, and a powerful sorceress that made the group a triple threat. you were easy to get along with and impressive to work alongside. you were also funny and had the same taste in music as him, which was a method of bonding during your early years of school. and sure, you were also insanely beautiful, but it was inappropriate for him to have a crush on his classmate. besides, yaga says it’s best not to intermingle with other sorcerers anyways. it would only complicate things, especially as you grow to be closer friends. so geto dated around to distance himself beyond missions and tried to to forget the butterflies your smile gave him for the sake of your group. with his luck, you were probably into satoru anyway.
he’s always been in love with you, he thinks, but enjoyed playing hard to get. unlike suguru, he didn’t shy away from spending time with you. he loved to follow you around campus with his arm hooked around your waist, all big grins and pick up lines that made you roll your eyes every time. he was able to play it off on his nature, claiming that annoying you was worth every extra second of his time. he was all too fond of your amazing skill and intellect, your immense beauty and body for days was only an added benefit. gojo made it a point to train with you exclusively, something that brought the two of you closer and allowed you to see the serious side of one of your best friends. he could never bring himself to make a real move. with his luck, you were probably into suguru anyway—like everyone else.
this delicate balance continued through the rest of your years at jujutsu tech and into your young adult years. the strongest, the curse-eater, and the girl that captured both of their hearts–and connected theirs to each other. gojo was able to satiate himself on his little touches and glimpses of your flustered smiles, shamelessly jerking off at night to the daydreams he has of his precious little girl best friend bouncing on his cock and moaning his name. geto tries to delude himself into feeling like a protective older brother, making it his job to monitor your safety and suitors. but no matter how much he tries, his hand still finds his cock in the comfort of his own bed in the middle of the night, shamefully pleasuring himself to the idea of having your body rocking beneath him and his hand around your neck.
everything gets worse—or better, depending on who you ask— when you all move in together. it was gojo’s idea, claiming his home was too big for just one singular man. so of course he would invite you to come live with him, he hoped to make you woman of the house at some point in the future anyway, so why not now? he extends the same invitation to his other best friend, only because he knows geto would kill him for taking you for himself. the men were close, closer than most friends in multiple ways, so it was no mystery that their shared crush on you eventually became common knowledge. neither of them minded the competition, seemingly convinced he would win your heart on his own before the other could do the same—or in the worst case scenario they would share you! (and whose idea do you think that was?)
but they had to up the ante.
it started small, geto dropped all his flings, even earning a few comments from you about how lonely he must be with his lack of company these days. he always chuckles and give you that suave smile of his, purring out a it’s time i get serious with a wink. he offered to make dinner nightly, making sure the brunt of housework didn’t fall on you since you were already on laundry duty. he always gave you rather selfish relationship advice, making sure you knew how differently he would treat a woman. it wasn’t lost on you, nor were gojo’s efforts.
he encouraged you to take his card and go crazy, often accompanying you on shopping sprees for the house and making sure you leave with an armful of new clothes and whatever else your eyes lingered on too long. satoru showed you his serious side, keeping the house regularly dusted and the floors cleaned, insisting a family should clean up after themselves and not keep servants to make their lives more detached. he invested in your hobbies, letting you try to teach him how to knit, play video games, even trying to do a little book club with you—that unfortunately, suguru was better at, much to his disappointment.
you weren’t dim, you could tell what was happening. you had your suspicions for a while, the two of them practically glued to your sides at all times nowadays—unless one of you was away on a mission, which happened far too often for their liking. you would be lying if you said their attention didn’t make you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, the two were easily the strongest sorcerers the world had to offer if you didn’t take one of those spots for yourself. they were both undeniably gorgeous in their own ways—so how could you possibly choose? your forced obliviousness is the only thing keeping you three firmly planted in friendshipville. though, it’s been more than obvious that you haven’t been seeing anyone outside of them, thank god, and you’re getting antsy. you have to apply more pressure, figure out something that would push them over the edge. you had to keep them competing for you since you couldn’t pick one over the other on your own. aha, you’ve got it—it’s low, scheming even, but you’re growing desperate. you’d just have to dust off your best acting skills and sluttiest outfit.
it was late that night. you knew the boys were still awake, able to hear their laughter from your room. with one final and steadying breath, you peeked into the living room. they were sitting together on the couch watching a movie that was forgotten about as soon as you walked in, the soft sound of your door closing behind drawing their attention. you were evil in your cropped tank that made it painfully clear that was the only thing covering your perky tits, and it didn’t stop there. you didn’t bother with shorts, a cute thong cupping your pussy and sitting along those glorious wide hips. they could die–the effect you have is clear immediately. suguru clutches a throw pillow over his lap, hoping to smoothly hide the throbbing erection just looking at you gave him, while satoru only makes his more obvious by spreading his legs—at least geto tried to respect you. their eyes are practically bulging from their heads, suguru’s lip was between his teeth meanwhile satoru’s curls into a smirk.
“you guys are being so loud out here.” you bat your eyes innocently, twirling a lock of your hair around your finger as you let your gaze bounce between them. gojo slides his glasses off, a bit starstruck as he sets them aside and looks over to suguru, needing him to be on the same page.
“sorry princess,” satoru pouts, patting the spot in between him and geto. “since you’re up…why don’t you hang out with us?” you note the greed swimming in those all-seeing eyes. you force some bashfulness.
“oh–dressed like this?” you rotate your hips a little bit to further your point and suguru has to clench his jaw tight to not groan aloud. “i wouldn't wanna make you guys uncomfortable.”
“you won’t.” suguru blurts out, tucking some of his overgrown bangs behind his ear. satoru nods his agreement.
“yeah! you’re our girl, you could never make us uncomfortable.” the white headed one says, cunningly petting the cushion again. you smirk to yourself, giving them a faux-reluctant nod before striding to sit. your ass ripples as you step past suguru, and his dick throbs pathetically. as soon as your back touches the couch, satoru’s arm is around your waist to tug your upper half into a lean; then suguru puts a massive paw over your thigh, kneading and stroking the exposed skin gently. they’re both so close, the heavy feeling of their hands on your skin was intoxicating; you could hardly tell where one stopped and the other one began. their scents were so overbearing, suguru’s spicy cinnamon and bourbon contrasted the honeyed vanilla sweetness of satoru so perfectly it had you drunk and losing sight of your master plan before anything had even really happened. but don’t worry, they’ll take very good care of you. you’ve gotten the ball rolling, which is good enough, right?
they pretend to keep their eyes on the tv, heads forward like they don’t notice what the other was doing. satoru’s hand starts to creep under the hemline of your tank top, sinewy fingers long enough to brush against the underside of your breast. you hum softly at the touch, only encouraging the lean man to do it again. suguru watches patiently, waiting for more of your approval. you burrow deeper in his side, pushing your chest out even further. he could practically giggle with excitement at your eagerness. suguru scoots closer, sliding his arm across your lower back to grab handfuls of your thick ass free to fondle thanks to your slutty panties. your weight falls back to the middle, wanting to give geto more of your attention. he smiles at satoru at the action, taking it as a sign of your affection. the other man rolls his eyes, leaning into your side to nuzzle your cheek.
the black haired man does the same into your neck, their hands kneading and rubbing and stroking your skin. you lean your head back against the couch, throwing your arms around them to encourage them further with a blissed out grin of your own.
“our slutty little roommate came dressed like that for a reason.” satoru snickers, bringing his other hand to cradle your jawline, tossing a wink towards his dark haired counterpart.
you hum, prying your eyes open to look at him with a smirk. “course i did…just like you asked me to move in for a reason and sugu gives me back massages for a reason.” you muse, humming as you walk your fingers down their spines. they look at each other with slight surprise, clearly they thought you were unsuspecting of them all this time. you chuckle softly, trailing your digits down their arms to close around their wrists, moving their massive hands to your chest, a boob each. you smirk at them. “everything that’s about to go down is only because i want it to happen, understand?”
you look at gojo first, reveling in his amused expression. he hadn’t expected you to take over and become the boss, but he wasn’t necessarily opposed either. it was sexy to think that he had fallen for your trap, and not the other way around. he’d happily do anything that you wanted, all he wanted was you. you arch your brow and he nods dumbly, nuzzling into your cheek again to show his devotion. no woman had tamed him before, but it wouldn’t be so bad to start now, especially not when the woman in question is his very sexy best friend. you give him a soft smile of approval before turning to the real work, geto.
many women had tried and failed to tame him, and he thought it was pretty funny each and every time. but now here you are, his gorgeous lady best friend, prepared to tell him what to do and exactly how to do it. now that was just plain adorable. you could see see the flames of intrigue flicker in his obsidian eyes, a gaze so intense it made you shrink into satoru a little bit. suguru was being hand gifted the only thing he’s ever wished for, but he would still have it on his terms. he squeezes down harshly on your breast, making you squirm. “cute. we wanted this longer though, so. how about you listen to me instead?”
you scoff, looking down at his hand on you. “don’t act so bold now, sugu. if you wanted to be in charge, you should have acted like it.” you tease, and even gojo smirks behind you. he thought it would be pretty amusing to watch you two battle for dominance, though he’s smart enough to capitalize on an opportunity when he sees one. he pulls you against him, kneading your hips and giving your exposed neck sweet sloppy kisses, all playing into your favor. “maybe i’ll let you give out orders next time–but if you want to be a diva, i’ll just fuck satoru—i’m sure he’s more than enough.”
the mentioned man hums, happy to be in your good graces and your leveraging tool. nothing drives suguru crazier than watching gojo get all the attention. geto gives you a look of dissatisfaction, only pushing you to climb onto your lanky friend’s lap, smiling down at him like an angel from heaven. gojo thought he may die right here. you’re perfect, the way your weight feels in his lap pressing up against his semi is so glorious already he’s afraid he may embarrass himself. his hands find your waist, and he’s looking up to you like he has no idea what to do next. he really is so clueless that it’s adorable. satoru acted like a pussy magnet, which wasn’t necessarily wrong since he is so gorgeous, powerful, and tall, but he never knew how to interact with them—especially since all his fantasies consisted of you, anyway. you smile down at him again and he knows it will be alright, that he’ll do what he does best and learn on the fly—he has to make you feel good.
“take my shirt off, baby.” you coo to him, lifting your arms a bit so he could peel it off. He leans forward unsurely, almost looking to geto for approval before he pinches the fabric and brings it over your head. your tits fall from the little tank top holding them in place, a beautifully heavy chest with pebbled buds wait, calling gojo’s name. his face turns red and he looks up to you for the next order, feeling his semi grow into a full blown problem. geto watches you with narrowed eyes, aching bulge straining against his pants still, and you were only making it worse. he curses himself for being enamored with someone like you, an expert in pushing buttons. you’re his woman whether you know it or not, and he’s only willing to share you with his bestest of friends, even if you were grating on his last nerve.
“do what feels natural, sato.” you breathe out, focused on the way his eyes grow at your permission and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. he’s been fixated on you as long as he can remember, and now it was his time to prove that he was the one for you. he drags your hips closer, wanting you to feel his erection pressing into that tiny thong you had the nerve to put on. you gasp in surprise, though a giggle quickly replaces the sound. you rest your arms on his shoulders, content to twirl locks of snowy white around your fingers. he groans at the sensation, struggling to keep his head on straight already. your body is so warm beneath his hands, so soft and pliable. you duck your head down to kiss him, and he tilts his head up to receive it. it swallows up all his senses, tunneling out everything around him to only focus on your touch, taste, and smell. he’s hungry, eager to prove his worth as a lover, wanting nothing else but to make you feel good. he grabs at your hips to feel you closer, and you indulge by circling your movements in his lap. he moans into your mouth as he feels your tits brush up against his shirt, making him break the kiss and lean back so he could get it off. he does it so quick that you aren’t prepared for his mouth to smack up against yours again, teeth clashing. you giggle again, enchanted by his boyish charm and overwhelming affection for you. it was sweet, and even though he was inexperienced, his kisses were full of passion and heat.
geto had mixed feelings. on one hand, you looked magnificent. your body is like nothing he’s ever seen before, almost to the point of unfairness. no woman could ever compare after this. he’d either have to marry you or be forever disappointed. but, on the other hand, you were wiggling around in gojo’s lap instead of his, and that’s only tolerable for so long. gojo is lucky still, if it were anyone else there would be no tolerance at all. but his patience is wearing thin, especially once you start letting little moans of your own go because of satoru’s big hands massaging your tits and his bulge catching on your puffy clothed clit. you even sound angelic, and it’s pissing him off. this was just a display of your power over them, but suguru wanted to teach a few lessons of his own. he scoots closer, letting his hands mingle around with satoru’s, feeling the dips of your body.
you can feel his touch, easily differentiating between satoru and suguru. your lanky friend’s hands were slimmer and warmer–moving around clumsily. your dark locked counterpart moved with more experience, his fingers thicker and rougher. you smirk at his impatience, clearly not able to be as obedient as dear satoru. you knew it would go like this, with gojo doing anything to please you and geto vying for control himself. you didn’t mind—you know it would push gojo to compete.
geto wastes no time in pulling you off of gojo’s lap and into his own, much to his friend’s disappointment. you give him a pointed look, brow raised and all, but you still wrap your arms around his shoulders the same way you did your other bestie. he smirks up at you, expecting nothing but your compliance once he sees how wet gojo got you. he can tell from the look in your eyes that you don’t have a lot of fight left in you despite the way you act, and that’s perfect for him. he plans to make you brainless, able to remember nothing but him anyway.
“greedy much?” you tease, tossing a look to the pouty white-haired boy watching with contempt. suguru shrugs.
“hardly, just proving that he is not all you need.” he smiles up at you innocently, raking his touch over your thighs. unlike gojo, he knows exactly how to work you up and melt in his hands. gojo harrumphs in the corner of the couch. geto’s brow creeps up even though his head is laxly leaned back against the sofa. he watches you like he owns you, and you love the contrast between the two boys. you roll your eyes and lean down to kiss him anyway, and his lips tell you that the show is over. he gnashes his teeth against your lip, making you squeal and open up for him, wherein he promptly shoves his tongue in to smother yours out. your fingers card through the black tresses cascading over his shoulders and down his back as you hum into his mouth. he’s humming at your eagerness, letting his hand drift from the meaty parts of your hips over to the wet patch on your panties, grinning when you gasp. he works his deft fingers over your heat, and gojo makes a strangled noise as he watches you lewdly suck on geto’s tongue. you let your hips roll into his hand, his other one coming down on your rippling ass. you moan softly, prompting him to spank you again, much to satoru’s enjoyment.
“s’fat, looks so pretty when you do that.” he compliments his friend, shoving out of his pants in anticipation of what comes next. his hand grabs around his proud length, pumping the curved shaft for minimal relief. geto hisses, feeling your hips move desperately towards your own release. he slaps your ass a third time, making you groan out and toss your head back, the picture of a perfect mess.
“gonna cum already?” he tsked, though the smirk on his face betrays him. you nod, tugging on the roots of his hair hard enough to cause a little sting. satoru groans, tired of watching and desperate for any form of aid, but you’re too intoxicating to rush. “then cum.” he demands, stopping his touch.
he knew he had pushed you far enough already, feeling your pelvis stutter against his hand. he watches you come undone, digging pearly white teeth into swollen lips as you dampen your panties another level. he doesn’t give you any type of reprieve before he’s pushing and tugging and arranging you for his preference on the cluttered couch. your brain is foggy already, clit throbbing from satoru’s craze and suguru’s abuse. he’s got you on all fours, face positioned over a huge cock nestled in trimmed white hair.
“be easy on her, satoru.” geto warns as gojo gets to his knees, fisting your hair to get your attention. if you enjoyed suguru’s dominance then he would try some of his own. he directs your mouth over his leaky tip, and you stick out your tongue to encourage him. he nearly shudders just from that, and you whine at the feeling of geto sliding his hands down your ass and thighs with his breath fanning over your shiny hole. you’re gagging on satoru’s length hitting the back of your throat as suguru his fat tongue licks a teasingly slow stripe down your slit. you can’t help but pressed yourself further back into his muscle and force yourself down to the hilt of satoru. he groans loudly, giving you a taste of your own medicine with how he pulls on your hair. he guides you along him, amazed at how much better you feel than his hand. your velvet cheeks feel so wet and warm, it’s amazing he doesn’t cum down your throat instantly. meanwhile geto eats you from the back, sucking on your lips and nudging up against your bud in alternating motions, making your head cloud up with dizziness. that could be from the lack of air you’re able to get in around gojo’s cock stuffing your mouth, tears sliding down your flustered cheeks and drool spilling out around him. he’s whimpering, the sound of him coupled with squelching from both ends had suguru grunting into your folds, letting your sweet essence dribble down his chin. he’s grabbing handfuls of your ass, bruising and smacking the fat. your hands explore the lean expanse that is satoru’s body, muscular thighs keeping you steady and flexing abs making you clench around your other friend’s tongue.
“gah, this—is amazing–fu-huck.” satoru whines, fisting your hair as his cock jumps at the sight of you. you moan your approval, pussy spasming for geto once again without warning, releasing on his face this time. your vision is already blurring, pleasure ripping through you all at once. he’s drunk on the taste of you, sitting upright on his knees as he scoops some of your cum out, coating his fingers with the slick. he may be the slightest bit possessive, but what’s his is gojo’s, and he had to let the other man taste you and get just as pussydrunk as he is. his other hand tugs you off his friend’s dick with a pop, pushing his hardness to the crack of your ass. he leans over you, body like a slab of concrete as he extends his hand to gojo. he leans up immediately, and you’re amazed at the sight of satoru sucking your juice off of suguru’s fingers, moaning slightly at your taste. geto smirks at him, settling back to his original spot. gojo grins widely as he wipes some residual tears from your face.
“she’s so pretty, tell her suguru.” he sings, pushing some hair out of your face as the aforementioned wraps a beefy arm around your waist and pulls you to a sitting position against him. he’s so solid, you can feel how thick and long he is against your back, and it makes you tingle with need like you haven’t came twice already. he pulls you along as he repositions himself, sitting on the couch like it’s intended to be used for with you balanced on his abdomen.
“oh of course, our pretty lady is the only girl i see.” suguru croons, pulling your hair into a ponytail just because he could. you look down at his cock, biting down on your lip at the sight. he was an inch or two shorter than gojo, but made up for it with his thickness. he had veins running along the shaft much like his muscular arms, and a dark tip growing impatient. they were perfect, you knew they would please you in different ways, but you had to have them both.
when satoru gets to his feet and stands in front of you, pale fingers stroking his pretty cock, you knew that was their plan.
geto snakes his hands to your thighs, prying them apart with little resistance from you. he lifts you with this grip, lowering you down all at once on him. he chuckles when you hiss and squirm at the stretch, feeling like a hot knife just gutted you. suguru continues sinking his hips into the cushions below and slamming them back up into you, locking eyes with his best friend eagerly awaiting his turn. you were a whimpering mess, falling back against the man railing you and leaving him responsible for holding you upright as your head finds home on his shoulder.
“if i go easy on you now, you won’t be able to fit us.” suguru explains with a labored breath, your walls so tight he didn’t know if you’d be able to take them anyhow—but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. you nod your understanding, moving your hips to help his strokes hit even deeper. you already feel so full, you can’t imagine what it’s gonna be like when satoru tries to push in. “so fucking wet for your best friends, you’ll take us, won’t you?”
you nod vigorously. it feels like you’re floating, every snap of suguru’s hips slammed his cock impossibly deeper. you knew your little act of control would only last so long, but it worked beautifully. if not for you, they’d probably be jacking off to you for the foreseeable future.
“say it, wanna hear it from our girl’s mouth.” he coos, the tone of his voice so contradictory to what he actually says. it makes your pussy squeeze him anyway.
“wanna take my best friend’s cocks.” you babble, feeling satoru’s hands on your waist again.
“and what else?” suguru groans, almost irritated that your pussy fucked this good and you’ve had the nerve to keep it to yourself all this time. his hand closes around your throat this time, trusting satoru to keep you from falling over. you were so pliable and it was such a treat to hear you talk like this.
“and i’m soaking wet for you both, god–stop teasin’.” you whine, batting your eyes at satoru. he’s sympathetic to your cause, wanting nothing more than to shove his rod deep in you and wonder who makes you feel better, not keen to wait for orders anymore, eager to earn your praise. suguru has your legs spread open perfectly; so while geto snickers from your answer, gojo steps forward and shoves his cock over his best friend’s and into your choking cunt. the feeling takes even suguru aback as you cry out from the stretch. It’s impossible, it’s too much, you feel like they’ll break you in half if they start to move, but the burning subsides, your fingers digging at gojo’s chest when suguru starts to move.
all three of you moan. it’s too good not to, your cunt locking the men against each other, rubbing against your silken walls and the bumpy texture of the other’s ridges was the best way to fuck, they found out. suguru is slow, and prompts gojo to go even slower, feeling you loosen up as the pressure of them in your gut only makes you delirious. you’re so loud, nasty moans and curses coming from your lips as their pace increases, the two men locked in competition to make you and even the other cum first. satoru leans in, pressing his rock hard abdomen against you and deepening his angle. he has to balance himself by bracing his hand on suguru’s other shoulder, both of you close enough to kiss. this was how it was always meant to be, the three of you. he gives you a sloppy kiss, his free hand cupping your cheek to tell you how much this means to him. geto’s caught up in the moment, he tells himself, but everything feels so clear. they were never in competition—you needed them both, and he needed you both, and satoru needed the two of you both. then he feels it, a sloppy kiss meant for him, and he hums in realization. it wasn’t much different from kissing you, though satoru certainly needed the practice. you moan lewdly, the sounds of your cunt being stuffed and their grunts and groans of pleasure provide the soundtrack as they work in tandem to drive you crazy.
“g’na–ngh–cum boys, ohhh~” you cry, legs starting to shake in suguru’s grip. they break their kiss to watch you jerk and jump, fucking into you as deep as their hips will allow. Satoru presses his fingers to your clit, hoping to increase your cute little spasms, but what you do instead is even sexier. you push at his shoulders, a clear liquid gushing and spraying over his abdomen and dripping down your cunt to cover suguru’s balls, leaving them both gaping in amazement.
“that’s a good fucking girl, shit–” suguru mumbles, watching satoru’s face scrunch up in overwhelming pleasure. he doesn’t warn you, holding your hips down to receive all of his cum, the hot feeling making you writhe and moan in his lap to send satoru spurting too. it’s so much, the burning warmth in your gut, their seed mixing together inside of you and gushing out around them both, making such a mess you’re almost embarrassed. satoru slumps forward to kiss you all over, mumbling out thanks for letting them destroy you like this as he lifts you off of suguru, cuddling up with you—mess be damned. you’re panting, sensitive, and dripping but you can’t stop grinning at your success. suguru rolls his eyes at satoru’s childishness, but it really just amuses him. he’d rather you have company as he cleans up the messes anyway, cleaning you and even satoru up before himself. satoru spoons you from behind and suguru shoves himself on the couch to hold you the other way, content at his display of power over the two strongest sorcerers in the room. everyone settles their breathing and into a lull of peace, the only sound in the room was the forgotten movie on the flatscreen, until.
“hey—i didn’t get to eat her outtttttt.” gojo whines, squeezing your body. you laugh, expecting geto to do the same, but he entertains this argument.
“you got your dick sucked—i didn’t get that—”
“we have plenty of time to even the score, shut up and let me sleep before i use my technique to un-fuck you.” you giggle.
#kyleewritesjjk#kylee's kinktober event#kinktober 2023#kinktober#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#gojo smut#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto smut#jujutsu kaisen#jjk geto#stsg#suguru geto#suguru geto x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
₊✩‧₊⇢ right person, wrong time?
『 ෆ k.bakugo x fem!reader 』
⋆ ˚ʚɞ — repost; after more discussions, i decided to delete the follow up on the original post thread & re-post separately. i don't wanna be accused of stealing someone's idea after already apologizing for it. this'll be the last i talk about it.
Bakugo’s loved you since high school. You always pushed him to work hard, never took his shit without giving it back tenfold, and was a pillar of support through some of the toughest times in his life. Even so, he’s convinced himself you’d never feel the same, that he has no shot with you.
Why?
Because you’re quirkless.
You’re part of the 20% without one, and he told himself he can’t get in your way of your life. Bakugo can’t stand the thought of being the reason why you don’t chase after your own dreams. He knows you too well - you’d put your happiness aside to support him the second he asked. You’d put your life on hold if it meant for him to succeed as a pro hero.
But he can’t do that. You’re the one thing he can’t seem to bring himself to be selfish about.
So Bakugo sits idly by, for years, as your best friend. The one you’d do anything for, no matter the time or place. He watches you date shitty guys and picks up the pieces they leave you in. Buys you your favorite foods when you have a bad day, surprises you with “just thinking of you” gifts, and drops whatever he’s doing the second you need him.
He’s attempted dating, desperately tried to get you out of his heart and make room for someone else - he fails each time. Miserably.
So tonight, that all changes.
You’re attending the annual Hero Gala together tonight, just like you have for the last four years. Bakugo always asks you to be his plus one as it keeps people away from him and he gets to spend time with you…rather, gets to see you dressed to the nines and have you on his arm all night long. It’s the one day a year he gets to pretend you’re his.
You’ve recently gotten a huge promotion in your line of work and he’s broken the top 10 of the hero charts - what better time than now to shoot his shot? He’s waited long enough, run through every excuse in the book why not to tell you how he feels.
The night winds down and the two of you get back into his car, sitting in silence for the ride home. That’s not uncommon for you two, but Bakugo’s reading too much into it tonight. It makes his hands tremble on the wheel, white knuckling the pleather from nerves. Once he pulls up to your apartment complex, he turns the car off and gets out to open your door for you.
To his surprise, you invite him in.
“I have a surprise for you!”
Bakugo’s whole body is tense at this point. What could you have for him?
“Here, open it.” You hand him a small box wrapped in orange paper. “It’s not much and a little cheesy, but congratulations on breaking the top 10!”
He opens the package to find a golden bracelet in a box with the inscription “plus ultra, dynamight!” on the underside of it.
“Ya didn’t have to get me shit, but thank you. I love it.”
He hugs you immediately, scooping you into a loving embrace and relishing in the excuse to have skin contact with you.
“I, uh, actually have somethin’ for you, too.” His voice waivers while he fiddles with his jacket pocket. You raise an eyebrow while waiting for him to present…whatever it is he had.
Bakugo pulls out a small box of his own, handing over the velvet jewelry case. You gingerly take it from his palm and can’t help but notice he’s shaking like a leaf.
“Are you okay, Kat? You’re shaking.”
“Just…open it.”
And you do - revealing a beautiful rose gold locket inside. It’s in the shape of a heart, dainty yet big enough to fit a minuscule picture. Before you open it, he stops you by gently touching your hand. He’s trying to hold eye contact with you, but keeps darting between your gaze and the ceiling.
“I’m sorry if this seems outta nowhere, but it’s been eatin’ me alive for years. And if it’s too much, we can forget it ever happened.”
You tilt your head at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Oh. The locket.
Time crawls to a halt as you pry open the locket, peering into the small enclosure to see two things - a picture of the two of you on the left and a small handwritten phrase on the right.
‘I love you. -Kats’
The silence in the apartment is deafening. Bakugo’s vibrating out of his skin while awaiting a semblance of a response to his confession. You’re normally easy to read, but in the moment, he’s struggling to observe how you could be feeling. It’s driving him fucking insane. He starts to feel regret, embarrassment settling in his bones as he bites his lip.
He just ruined everything. The precious friendship you two had - gone. He knew that locket was a stupid idea.
Bakugo’s preparing himself for your rejection. The tears are building and the lump in his throat solidifies. He attempts to keep himself together as he begins to croak out an apology.
“Look, I shoulda—”
“Say it.”
Bewilderment is an understatement as he recoils at your demand. He blinks the stray tears away, all the breath he had being stolen away by your words. He swallows thickly, never thinking he’d get this far in the conversation. He was fully prepared to high tail it outta there, not…stay.
“Wha—”
“Tell me you love me.”
This can’t be real.
Bakugo’s body moves on its own, closing the gap between you two in under the dim light of your entry way. He cradles your jaw, thumbing over the apple of your cheek and studying your eyes as he takes a deep breath. This is the moment he’s been waiting for - the one he’s been yearning over. The opportunity to tell you exactly how he feels, how much you mean to him.
Four words is all he needs.
“I fucking love you.”
You can’t help but laugh, maybe a little too loudly as Bakugo’s cheeks turn strawberry in color.
“It’s about damn time. I love you too.”
His heart pounds, his legs feel like jello, his muscles stiffen. And yet, he powers through it all.
Your lips meet for the first time - the kiss is soft, sweet, careful.
When you part, his vision blurs a bit, overwhelmed by the emotions swelling in his chest. His lips are slightly parted behind heavy breaths, taking in the moment he was so graciously given.
“I didn’t wanna get in your way.”
You laugh. “Then don’t be in my way, come with me.”
God, he was such an idiot. A lovesick fool blinded by his own infatuation to see that his best friend loved him, too.
You hand the locket to Bakugo and spin around while holding up your hair. He tenderly places the chain around your neck and secures the clasp, letting the metal fall to your collarbone.
“I’m all yours, Katsuki.”
You always have been.
thanks to everyone who sent in a message & encouraged me to keep this up. we're all just trying to have a good time together on this site and share our feelings about characters we love. there's no need to talk down or discourage others from expressing themselves.
#katsuki bakugo#bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugo fluff#bakugou fluff#katsuki bakugou#bakugo x y/n#bakugou x y/n#katsuki x reader#bakugo drabble#bakugo imagine#☆.rei writes
728 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
