#and in turn struggling with what is a persona and what is HIM
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That Wresting Moment: Exotic dancer v dancer - Jose v Gino Ponti (bgeast.com)
Gay wrestling has searched far and wide for the elite and today we continue our journey looking at the type of wrestler that does it best. Last time we looked at models, so this time we'll find out if Male strippers/exotic dancers do it best with Jose v Gino Ponti (bgeast.com).
Jose v Gino Ponti (bgeast.com)
SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.
The Backstory
One of the many things I love about Bgeast is that they provide a ton of context and background for their fighters. Is there a rivalry at stake? Were our wrestlers best friends? Often this exposition took place during some trash talking or pumping weights or in some of the earlier matches - in a erotic dance off...
Gino, the construction worker, is ready to build you up?
Okay that was lame, how about this - Gino, the builder, has really nailed it?
Jose has no costume really, the man is just a sexy bad-ass
Remember that dog collar, it'll come into the picture later on.
The Action
Around the 10 min mark, we are finally introduced to the fight and what would wrestling be without a bit of trash talk.
Jose talks a lot of shit.
Jose: You want to touch me? Touch my chest. You're making me horny [sarcasm]
There's something particularly satisfying about watching aggressively hetero Jose get taken down a notch.
And yes, at times however, the moves can be a bit questionable...
The action can still be pretty hot nonetheless. A straining and struggling Jose being held down like a punk was definitely hot.
But what really makes this match is less dancing and more wrestling, especially your classic Heel-Jobber dynamic.
How can you not love this?
Gino fights back with all he's got but it doesn't even dent mighty Jose; The guy simply bushes himself off. I mean, could we ask for a better 'moment' than this?
The Moment
But eventually Jose comes to dominate as we all knew he would. The guy is built like batman and whatever resistance Gino puts up is simply no match for him. Ultimately it comes down to a battle of personas and Jose simply has Gino beat on all accounts here. To me, this is when things really begin in all it's gay wresting glory and it's this moment, when Jose takes control that truly makes this match.
I've always thought that the thing that separates 'wrestling' from 'fighting' is the fantasy and over-the-top nature of it all. We are talking about a serious matter - getting hurt - and turning it into something more. It's clear to me that the male exaggeration, the almost silliness of it all, is something that exotic dancers have in spades, and absolutely why I love gay wrestling.
Gino, controlled and collared
A sweaty, destroyed Gino is forcefully brought to his feet - only to be taken down once again.
Did I say Jose was built like Batman? He's actually more like the ultimate supervillain of your nightmares in this match.
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Leo frowns at his phone.
Or more specifically, at the test on his phone.
Around him, he hears the sound of his brothers tapping their own devices, much faster than he is. Looking up just makes Leo feel worse about his own progress - or lack-thereof.
Mikey’s the fastest, speeding through the test like nobody’s business. He’d been the one to make them all do this stupid test in the first place, so it makes sense that he’s having a blast.
Raph’s slower than Mikey is, but he’s still clearly answering the questions at a steady pace. Sometimes he looks unsure, but he powers through anyway.
Donnie often looks frustrated, which relieves Leo somewhat because at least someone is struggling like him. But that “struggle” isn’t nearly as big as his own, considering that Donnie is answering about as fast as Raph is.
Leo turns his gaze back down to his own test. He’s still near the beginning, he thinks.
He’d put the same answer for the past seven questions - the middle of the road answer, neither a “yes” or a “no.” Then, whenever he does come across one that is more one direction than the other, he second guesses himself and restarts the test!
Sure, there are a few he could definitely give a yes or a no to, but…never the “strongly agree” or “strongly disagree” that the test seemed to want from him.
He eyes his twin sitting nearby, the softshell absorbed in the test. Maybe Leo should copy what Donnie put for some of these…
“DONE!” Mikey’s shout makes Leo freeze in place just as he started to lean over.
“What?” Donnie squawks, “No way you’re already finished, you must’ve been cheating!”
“It’s a personality test, Dee!” Mikey stuck his tongue out, “You can’t cheat at those!”
…
Leo settles back into his seat.
Ignoring Donnie’s mutterings about how it was “just because it’s not an academic test” that he didn’t finish first, Raph smiles encouragingly at Mikey.
“Hey, good job! So what’d you get, Mike?”
Mikey looks back down at his test, reading aloud, “Says that I got the “Campaigner”!”
“What’s that mean?” Leo asks, his phone screen going dark.
“Apparently, I’m an “enthusiastic, creative, and sociable free-spirit”.” Mikey reads, smiling at them, “You think it fits?”
“Oh, to a T, bro!” Leo laughs, giving Mikey a thumbs up, making Mikey’s smile grow larger.
Inside, Leo was feeling a lot more mixed about this. He has no idea how Mikey knew himself so well. Maybe Donnie was right and Mikey did cheat, because how could he answer those questions so easily?
Leo’s phone burns in his hand. He keeps it locked.
“Wow, that really is you.” Raph says, his eyes flitting back and forth between his own test and Mikey, “Do you think it fits?”
“I guess? It’s fun to see at least!” Mikey shrugs with a grin.
“Hold on, I think…” Raph makes a noise of satisfaction, “Okay, done!”
“Sigh, now I’m relegated to the straggler group.” Donnie grumbles, his thumbs moving faster as he tries rushing through the questions.
“Ooh, what’d you get Raph?” Mikey asks, practically bouncing in curiosity.
“Says, uh…I got something called the “Consul”?” He squints his eyes to read more, “Uh, “caring, social, and community-minded.””
“Sounds about right to me.” Leo nods. Can’t be more “community-minded” than being a hero.
“Yeah, no one’s more caring than you, Raphie!” Mikey says, moving to lean across Raph’s shell.
“You do put the community in mind, that’s for sure.” Donnie states, not looking up.
Raph chuckles, a bit embarrassed, “Aw, thanks. It’s just some test, but it feels kinda good to hear that.”
Just a test. Right.
Leo unlocks his screen.
The test stares back at him.
Right. Okay. He can do this. He can.
The screen ends up going dark again.
Frustration builds up in Leo. Was he even halfway done with the test? At this rate, soon even Donnie will-
“FINISHED.”
Leo unlocks his phone.
“What’d you get, DonTon?” Leo asks as his thumb taps the top right of the screen.
Donnie puffs up proudly, a self sure grin on his face, “I got the result “Logician” which states that I, obviously, am an “innovative inventor with a thirst for knowledge.” Truly could not have described me better, if I do say so myself.”
“It is pretty accurate.” Raph agrees with a nod, “Even calls you an inventor, so extra accurate.”
“Super accurate.” Mikey jumps in, eyes shining.
“Yes, yes, almost like reading my own character synopsis.” Donnie’s grin had not dwindled since the word “innovative” had left his mouth.
Leo just nods along, eyes on his own screen as he skims the words. “Yeah, kinda creepy how close it got. Could have called you a nerd for extra accuracy, though.”
Donnie turns to him, eyes narrowing, “Have you even finished your test? I can think of a few words that’d describe you fairly well.”
“Test-y, huh?”
Before Donnie can strangle Leo, Raph cuts in.
“Ok, ok, calm it down, guys.” He rolls his eyes before turning to Leo. “But really, you’re not done yet?”
“Leo’s taking this self reflection seriously.” Mikey sports a faux intellectual expression as he gives a jokingly serious nod. “Maybe we all should’ve taken our time.”
“Says the one who sped through the whole thing in a record time.” Donnie mutters.
Leo waves them all off, “Nah, I finished it ages ago.”
He grins when Donnie immediately shoots him a suspicious glare. “Oh, you did, did you? Then what could you have possibly gotten, Nardo?”
“I’m glad you asked!” Leo clears his throat, “Neon Leon just so happens to be an “Entertainer.””
“Ah. That confirms it. This test is meaningless.” Donnie drones.
“Hey-“
“What’s an Entertainer like?” Mikey asks with a tilt of his head, still hanging off of Raph’s shell.
“Glad you asked, Miguel!” Leo exclaims, “It says that “life is never boring” around yours truly~”
He emphasizes this “result” of his by waving his phone with said “result” on screen.
It’s just an image he found of his chosen personality result, but they don’t need to know that.
Raph nods slowly, “Well, I guess that’s true…”
“”Never boring” is one way to put it.” Donnie hums.
“You are pretty fun, Leo!” Mikey says emphatically, because he’s great like that.
“Thank you, thank you, life of the party, right here.” Leo grins, pointing both thumbs at himself.
He’s careful not to go too overboard with it, or else it might tip someone off.
Not that it…really matters. It’s just a test. Like Raph said.
As the topic around him shifts to something else, jumping away from this brief activity as fast as any other among them, Leo finds himself unlocking his phone and pulling up the test again.
Unanswered questions stare at him. He knows what answers Lou Jitsu would pick. He knows what answers Jupiter Jim would pick. Hell, he knows exactly what answers his brothers would pick.
He doesn’t know what answers Leonardo would pick.
Leo stares at the test for a second longer, before he exits the site and throws himself into the conversation happening around him.
It’s just a stupid test, nothing to worry about.
Just a test…
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#rottmnt headcanons#rise leo#could not ignore this idea that hit my brain haha#if you disagree with me on what personality types I gave the boys that’s fine tbh#picked mbti since it was the first one I thought of but again it like most of these tests isn’t super worth putting stock into#these tests are kinda dumb anyway but they’re fun to take#for some#anyway I love thinking about Leo struggling with his sense of identity#and in turn struggling with what is a persona and what is HIM#how much is a mask how much is built from taking traits from others how much is real how much is fake#even he doesn’t know#protagonist is probably a good choice for leo but I’m also tied to him secretly being the introverted type as well so#bit more of an ambivert maybe#he’s got aspects of a lot of them hence the difficulty answering questions#well most of his difficulty comes from an uncertainty of who he really is#again what is him and what is his mask#or masks#what even is his true self if his self is someone he’s never bothered to meet#a lot of the little details of his personality - the parts of him that we see peek out throughout the series and often on his own -#- they align with personality types that you would never think of when looking at him and his masks at face value#that’s not to say it’s all masks - he’s a goofy guy at his core - but he’s more than he lets on and we’re made privy to that in subtle ways#though fr protagonist is prob Leo’s most likely result
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cam girl (part one)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.
» masterlist
+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
“Make sure to bend down real low.” Rafe’s deep voice startles you.
You’re kneeling down as you fill the freezer with the groceries that were just delivered. You thought you were alone in the massive kitchen, but sure enough, Rafe is taunting you again.
You don’t even need to turn to look at him to know he’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk. A depraved part of you is excited he’s there.
“Is there anything I can get you?” you mutter, your attention still focused on your work. It’s your go-to phrase whenever he bothers you. Professional, but not exactly friendly.
“Yeah, is that the only uniform they give you?” he asked. “You don’t have anything tighter?”
You stand and turn to finally look at him. His baseball hat is on backwards and his arms are crossed, large biceps bulging beneath the hem of his t-shirt.
You smooth down the loose gray knee-length dress you’re wearing and you swear he’s undressing you with his coy blue eyes. You hate that it arouses you when he looks at you like that.
You’ve gotten used to Rafe teasing you. You’re almost sure he gets off on degrading you. There are other maids but you’re the only one he does this to.
“Nope, this is it,” you say curtly. If you didn’t need this job, you’d cuss this man out. Probably even slap him. But you need to stay cordial, and he knows that, riding the power trip whenever he can.
“Too bad.” Rafe knocks on the kitchen island before turning to leave. “I can tell you’re hiding a nice ass under there.”
You feel your cheeks burn as you go back to work. You only come to work at the estate on Wednesdays and Saturdays and the days can’t go by fast enough.
You appreciate every dollar you can make these days as a struggling college student. Thankfully, your other job as a cam girl has been bringing in more and more money.
After you finish up your day at the Camerons’ estate, you drive your rusted, old car to your apartment in the south part of the island. The space is tiny, but it’s yours, and it’s good enough for now.
You go live for half an hour at 10 pm every other night of the week. Getting your start as a cam girl took some time, but now you have 32 subscribers and are starting to make good money off the website.
Tonight, you’re dressed in a black push-up bra and matching thong. You never show your face higher than your lips, refusing to risk anyone recognizing you.
This is just for the money, although you can admit to yourself that you find pleasure in knowing you can turn on so many strangers with your body. You sit on your bed, your toys ready off-screen.
Over your last session, a new user with the screen-name figure8 joined your chat. It threw you for a loop for a moment, prompting you to worry it was somebody you know from the Kooks’ part of the island, but the chances are slim. Figure 8 is a general term and the man could be from anywhere.
“Hey,” you say slowly. “How was everyone’s day? Mine was so long.”
figure8 didn’t say anything the other night, just watched and subscribed at the end of the stream, but tonight, he types something a minute into the session as you sit in front of the camera, running your hands over your satin bra.
figure8: you gonna show those perfect tits?
You giggle, immediately stepping into your cam girl persona. You check to see that twelve users are now viewing your stream.
“You’d like that, huh?” you ask, peeling off a bra strap. “Anyone else wanna see what’s underneath?”
You notice the bouncing dots on the screen that tell you that viewers are typing.
v2bo: yes
dragon89: take it off
stonyon: play with your tits
You strip off your bra, touching yourself, your breath hitching as arousal tightens in your core.
Without hesitation, you picture Rafe’s hands on you. He’s always on your mind during your cam sessions as you impulsively imagine his broad frame on top of you, dominating you.
You try to play it off when he taunts you at work, but it’s not until you’re touching yourself that you realize just how much it turns you on when he talks to you the way he does in his deep, mocking tone.
figure8: you like to get your tits played with?
You smirk, surprised someone is asking you what you enjoy. Typically, viewers like to simply compliment you or order you around, but you never get asked about your preferences.
“I love getting my tits played with,” you purr.
You press your arms to squeeze your tits together.
figure8: you like a cock between your tits don’t you princess
The sexy nickname makes you quiver a little. You bite your bottom lip.
“I’m so wet already,” you moan. “And thinking about a cock right here…”
You take a dildo you keep off-screen and place it between your tits. You part your lips as you rub the toy up and down, hearing the chimes of tips from your chat coming in.
figure8: bet you’re so good at sucking dick. i’d fuck your tits and that pretty little mouth so nicely
“You wanna see how I use my mouth?” you tease.
v2bo: deepthroat
You put the tip of the dildo on your tongue, flicking and rolling it. When you finally put your mouth around it, you close your eyes, thinking of Rafe in his kitchen, thinking of getting on your knees and sucking him off.
dragon89: put it in your pussy
A new notification pops up on your screen: figure8 is requesting a private show. Your heart-rate skyrockets.
You’d never gotten the request before. You had set the rate at $250 for a private session, half-expecting that you wouldn’t get any takers. You’re excited about the money and the fact that this new, intriguing viewer is the one who requested it.
You quickly type privately to figure8: This session ends at 10:30 and then I’m all yours, baby.
You continue to play with the dildo using your mouth, getting it wet all over, when a private chat comes in from figure8: how much for u to end the live and go private with me right now?
You don’t want to risk asking for too much and scaring the man away, but the possibility of making more in a private session than you would in a live one is compelling.
You never know much the live sessions will bring, but a private show is guaranteed money. Ending your session early might piss off your subscribers and maybe even make you lose some of them… but you impulsively reply: $1000.
Within a few seconds, you get a tip notification.
figure8 tipped you $1000.
You quickly end your live session, deciding to later tell your subscribers that your internet went out, then open the private session with figure8.
“Hello,” you whisper. “You want me to be your own personal toy, huh?”
figure8: i dont like to share
You laugh. If he’s willing to continue to pay you for private sessions, you’re happy to oblige.
“What would you like to see?” you ask. “You wanna see how I’d suck your cock?”
figure8: tap it against your mouth
“You’d tease me, wouldn’t you?” you whisper. You tap the dildo on your lips, sticking out your tongue.
figure8: princess i’d go so slow with you until you’re soaked and begging for my cock
You feel yourself get wetter reading his words. He’s not like any of the other viewers you’ve had. He’s asking what you like, calling you a sweet name, not rushing anything.
“You want me aching for it, huh?” you purr. You put the dildo in your mouth again, slowly sucking and slurping.
figure8: that mouth is so fucking pretty
You continue to lick and suck, moaning on the toy, your panties drenched now.
“I want it inside me,” you say, realizing you’re not even speaking through your persona anymore. You’re actually turned on by him, actually wanting to fuck yourself with the dildo.
figure8: not yet. keep sucking it
You giggle, half-frustrated, and obey him.
“You touching yourself right now?” you ask.
figure8: yeah. wanna see?
You have the option of enabling media from viewers, but you never thought you’d want to see a stranger like that. But this man is something else. You click on the button to allow him to send you a photo.
“Send it so I can imagine you hard in my mouth,” you purr.
A few moments pass before the picture comes in. He’s lying down in bed, showing a bit of his toned stomach, his large hand at the base of his dick. It’s thick and long and so damn perfect.
“Shit,” you whisper. “Such a nice cock. I don’t think I could fit it all in my mouth.”
You’re not just saying it to flatter him. He’s huge.
figure8: you could if you tried hard enough
You lick your lips, pushing the dildo deep into your mouth, gagging a little.
figure8: the way you choke on it is so hot. fuck
“How am I doing?” you coo.
figure8: such a good girl. let me see how you touch your pussy. keep the panties on
The praise makes you ache for it even more. This started off as a job, a way to make money, but now you’re genuinely excited, wishing this guy could fuck you for real.
You tilt your laptop down, spreading your legs in front of the camera as you sit on your bed. Your thong is still on, but it’s see-through. You watch yourself on the screen, tits still in view as you put your hand over your pussy.
figure8: be slow with it
“You’re torturing me, you know,” you giggle. “I’m not a patient girl.”
figure8: i’ll make u be patient. i want u to beg
“Please let me take these panties off,” you whimper. “I need to touch myself.”
figure8: put your panties to the side
You obey, moaning at the pleasure of your fingers finally on your clit. You rub in circles an up and down, trembling.
figure8: wish i could eat you out right now. you want my mouth on your pussy?
“Fuck, I’d love that,” you say, imagining Rafe looking up at you through his beautiful eyes as he licks your pussy.
figure8: show me how wet you are. put your fingers up to the camera
You do as you’re told, showing him your wetness as it shimmers in the white light from the screen.
“See how much you turn me on?” you say.
figure8: take the panties off and stretch out your pussy lips
You eagerly slide your underwear off and throw them beside your bed. With your legs spread again, you pull your lips apart, giving him the perfect view.
figure8: good girl. you listen so well
You get a notification that he tipped you $500. You never thought you’d make this much money in one night.
“Thank you, baby,” you giggle. “You love this pussy, huh?”
figure8: ur so fucking perfect. i want to cum inside u. put the dildo in nice and slow, princess
“Finally,” you say. “Your cock would slide in so easily right now. I’m so fucking wet.”
The toy fills you perfectly, making you quiver. You start to slowly thrust it in and out, but the chat chimes again.
figure8: i know you’re needy but i said slow. put the dildo in and move your hand. i wanna see it inside you
“Sorry,” you tease. You move your hand so he can see the toy inside you. You watch yourself in the screen, the dildo hugged perfectly between your walls.
figure8: you’d squeeze my cock so fucking well
“What if you’re too big for me, hmm?”
figure8: princess we’d make it fit
You’re nearly writhing at this point. You scroll back up to see his nude photo again, imagining it inside of you.
“Your dick is so fucking nice,” you groan.
figure8: show me how you like to be fucked. make yourself cum. don’t fake it. i wanna hear u cum for real
You obey, thankful he’s finally letting you orgasm. You hold the base of the toy and plunge it in and out of you, the lewd sound filling your bedroom, and use your other hand to rub your clit. You whimper, making sure to keep your face out of frame, imagining this stranger thrusting into you.
You let the sounds of pleasure spill out of your mouth, uninhabited, knowing he’s stroking his dick to you right now.
The orgasm hits you hard, your legs shaking. You’re panting as you look at your screen to see what he said.
figure8: i just came so fucking hard
“I wish your cum was inside of me,” you say breathlessly. You try to catch your breath as he continues to type.
figure8: what’s ur favorite position?
“Doggy,” you say, surprised he wants to know more. “What’s yours?”
figure8: thats mine too. you can show me next time, princess
“You wanna do this again, huh?” you tease.
figure8: i dont want you showing your body to any other guy. i’ll pay you double what you make on your streams if you only do private shows for me
The idea intrigues you. It’s sexy how he doesn’t want to share you at all.
“How often you want to do these, baby?” you ask.
figure8: every night. i’ll give you 1000 for every show and tips for when you deserve it. i want to buy you some things and watch you use them. you’re mine and mine only
The thought of making $1000 a night is unbelievable. This guy is loaded with cash and wants to spend so much on you.
You would lose the following you worked hard to get, but you’d undoubtedly make way more money being this man’s personal cam girl.
“Deal,” you finally say with a disbelieving laugh. “Same time tomorrow?”
figure8: don’t be late
The chat window notifies you that he left. You’re still breathless, shocked at how you didn’t have to fake the orgasm with him.
You scroll to find his dick pic again, as if you’re addicted to looking at it. You turn your camera off and now that you can angle your screen up, you can take a better look at the image.
Your stomach drops. The gold ring around his forefinger. The bedsheets you change twice a week. You know who it is.
The man you just orgasmed with was Rafe.
{ read part two here }
#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe smut#rafe fic#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx x reader#obx smut#mine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n
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part time lover; jjk
➳ pairing: investigative journalist!jeongguk x daycare teacher!reader. alternatively, spy!jeongguk x assassin!reader
➳ genre: smut, fluff, angst, fake marriage au, dad au, spy x family au
➵ word count: 30.8k
➳ summary: there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school.
only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time.
➳ warnings: themes of parenthood, raising a child, reader and jk are both orphans, reader has a past where she struggled with financially supporting her family, eldest daughter trauma, reader is insecure, fears of abandonment, mentions of violence and m*rder (but not explicit), mention of weapons (guns, knives, grenades, poison), jk has a bruise from boxing, descriptions of an explosion, blood is drawn twice (via kitchen knife and shrapnel from aforementioned explosion), (1) mention of weight loss, jk changes his appearance in an attempt to fit in, mention of a minor car crash, social drinking, scars (surgical/knife, bullet wounds), characters are liars for the sake of the plot, side characters are misogynists (satire), food descriptions, pet names (hers: angel, good girl, princess his: love).
➳ a/n: thank you for being so patient with me as i toiled through this fic. it wasn't an easy one! but i do think it's special because of how healing the journey was for me <3 please enjoy, let me know what you think. don't forget to check out the other fics from the "industry baby" collab hosted by the ever so lovely @jeonjcngkook and @mercurygguk !
➳ smut warnings: virgin reader, sexual tension, body worship, nipple play, marking, oral (f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, jk has a big dick, praising, stomach bulge, spitting, use of the word slut, marriage kink(?) he loves his wife so much, reader wants to be bred, cumshot
Jeongguk, 26
Investigative journalist at Golden News Network
Less than a mile away
To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).
“Your profile is dog shit,” Seokjin deadpans. The cringe settles into the downward turn of his lips as he swipes through his best friend’s Tinder account. “You’d be bitchless if you weren’t hot.”
“Jin, watch your mouth.” Jeongguk shoots a deadly glare toward the older man. “There are children around.”
From the kitchen, Jeongguk cranes his neck to take a peek into the messy living room where his adopted daughter sits, criss-crossed, in front of the television. Minji is too distracted by her weekly cartoon updates to even notice the crude language.
“Minny, don’t sit too close to the TV,” he sends his daughter a stern yet gentle reminder. “Your eyeballs are gonna fall out of your head if you do.”
A frown etches itself onto Minji’s face as she scooches back on her knees.
Jeongguk returns his attention to the dinner he’s preparing tonight. A pot of homemade tomato sauce simmers on the stovetop.
In the back of his mind, he wonders if his dating profile is as terribly unappealing as Seokjin says it is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have so many notifications, right? ー Messages from girls, asking if he could be their daddy too. Jeongguk’s bio is short and straight to the point. He’s not that ugly, or so he thinks. Being a journalist is a respectable occupation with steady income. So what could be so bad about it?
Is it the fact that Jeongguk isn’t even his real name ー nothing but a fake persona to help him with his investigation? Maybe it’s because his adopted daughter doesn’t have a striking resemblance to him, and his pictures look like a shady scam.
But there’s no way that they can see through Jeongguk’s facade. After all, he’s the best spy in the agency. His specialty is deceit. It’s foolproof. There’s no reason not to believe him.
“I think they’re really into the whole dad thing,” Jeongguk nods, focusing on the sliced onions in front of him. The smell of garlic and fresh herbs permeate through the air.
“Really?” Seokjin says in feigned disbelief. He leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. “It’s not because of the video where you’re deepthroating a deep dish pizza? Just for that, I would have gotten on my hands and knees to suck your di-.”
“Can you seriously watch your language?” Jeongguk cuts him off before pointing a knife in his direction.
Kim Seokjin may be his closest colleague, but that’s exactly where he draws the line. Seokjin is nothing more than Jeongguk’s informant. His job is to get the latest intel on all of his targets, and that’s it. He’s not here to fool around or make friends.
“We took that video in Chicago. Doesn’t it show that I’m well traveled?” Jeongguk asks with genuine curiosity. He remembers reading an article about how women love that sort of stuff.
Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s gonna be a long, long night,” he mutters to himself. His best friend is beyond the point of fixing, but at least he makes a good househusband.
Jeongguk wipes his hands against his frilly apron before dipping a wooden spoon into the pot. He inches the tomato sauce closer to his pursed lips as he blows on the piping hot confection. It could use more parsley.
Just when Jeongguk thought he could distract himself with cooking, he suddenly remembers the pressing problem that occupies all of his brain space: he is in desperate need of a wife. The constant reminder is taped to the front of the fridge 一 a letter from Minji’s prospective elementary school.
Dear Jeon family,
Congratulations! Your child’s preliminary results indicate that he/she has passed the entrance exam at Hwa Yang Academy. Our institution carries a prestigious reputation, accepting only the nation’s brightest students. Due to your child’s outstanding academic score, we invite you to the second phase of admissions where a family interview will be conducted. Please have both parents and child present at Yeon Hwa Hall on the first of May, promptly at 10am.
It is our good fortune that you chose to apply to Hwa Yang Academy. We look forward to welcoming you and your family to our renowned institution.
Sincerely,
Department of Admissions at Hwa Yang Academy
The fact that Minji received an interview at the top school in the nation is amazing beyond belief. Everything is going according to plan. The only problem is that Jeon Jeongguk is, in fact, bitchless.
“Remind me again, why do you need to get Minji into that school?” Seokjin furrows his brows. He’s never seen his best friend this stressed. The way that Jeongguk is willing to jump through hoops makes him feel as if he’s never wanted anything so bad in his life.
Jeongguk clenches the wooden spoon in his hand, threatening to give himself a splinter. “I have to get access to Hwa Yang,” he says, like it’s do or die. “There are families with infinite amounts of political power there, including the prime minister. The big boss suspects that they’re planning a rebellion, and I need to get close to them to expose their secrets. Obviously I can’t even touch the elite without pretending to be one myself. So I need this family to be as perfect as it can be.”
“You think you can prevent a whole rebellion and save the country if you go to a few parent association meetings? Bake a batch of cookies like a soccer mom?” Seokjin’s questions are sarcastic, but he’s not wrong. He needs to infiltrate the prime minister’s inner circle, befriend him, and uncover his government secrets. But doing so would be impossible without first securing a wife and earning acceptance into the school.
“If it comes down to making a paper mache volcano, I’ll do it.” The determination in Jeongguk’s eyes is unwavering.
“You really expect to get through the admission interview with a fake wife? I can’t even get a single date, but you think you can get married by the end of the month?” Seokjin laughs at the expense of his own heartache.
“Maybe the mommies would like you more if you weren’t so de-looshe-in-ull,” Minji chimes.
Has she been listening all along?
“Delusional?” Seokjin scoffs, fueled with exasperation. Lately, he’s had thoughts about being a kinder person, yet a part of him still believes that he deserves the last word in every conversation. “Where did you learn about that?” he queries, balling up his hands.
“Appa,” Minji replies, pointing at the man in question.
Seokjin winds his fist back as if he’s throwing a punch across the room, but he listens to the screaming voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him he’s much too pretty to get pummeled today ー that his face would look better if Jeongguk’s fist wasn’t imprinted on the surface of it. So instead of starting a fight with a five year old girl, Seokjin folds his knees against his chest, cursing under his breath. Maybe he can be the bigger person.
“So why can’t the agency send another spy operative to play house with you?” Seokjin asks, resorting to a life of civility under Jeongguk’s roof. He forces a smile through gritted teeth and returns his attention to the dating app in the palm of his hands, half-listening to his best friend.
“Well, a bunch of police officers arrested our agents. There’s only a few people left on the team. Haven’t you seen the news? The government is cracking down on espionage.” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clenching his jaw. “They use women as their scapegoat, filling up some stupid quota for incarceration.” How can men be so ignorant and simple minded?
Ironically, Seokjin flashes his phone in front of Jeongguk’s face. “Swipe left or right, what do you think?” Yep, the minds of men are pretty simple, and Seokjin definitely didn’t hear a single word that came out of Jeongguk’s mouth.
Y/N
Daycare teacher at children’s municipal library
1 mile away
Critics review: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
“Loves her emotional support characters, and will only ever love her emotional support characters”
“Can’t cook to save her life, but she can top off your ramen with a fried egg”
“Pros: loving and down to earth, great with kids. Cons: doesn’t know her own strength, hates mushrooms, has a quirky laugh”
“You know what? I’ll swipe right. You’ll get more matches if you do,” Seokjin suggests with a determined nod.
Jeongguk stares at his informant in disbelief, jaw slack. There’s no way this stupid app is going to land him a wife by the end of the month.
“What do you think about this guy?”
“Hard pass. I mean, look at his photos. His whole personality is about working out.”
“Okay, then what about this one?”
“Nah, he looks too stuck-up. I don’t think he can take a joke.”
“How about her? She’s pretty, right?”
“She doesn’t even have a bio! What if she’s a catfish?”
From the way your coworkers appraise these people, they act as if they’re the ones looking for a partner. Because as a matter of fact, it’s your phone in their hand, swiping away on your dating app.
It doesn’t matter if there are library books that need to be stowed away or paperwork to be filed. They pay no mind to the clock indicating that there’s 30 minutes left in the work day because finding you a significant other seems to be their only priority.
“Sujin, stop being so picky. At this rate, y/n isn’t going to get a date if you swipe left on everyone,” Yumi whines.
“Why did you make a profile for me anyways? I don’t need to be in a relationship.” The sound of your widely unpopular opinion makes the two girls look up with big, round eyes.
“Aren’t you ever lonely?” There’s a hint of pity that lingers in Yumi’s voice.
You find it quite offensive that she would think that. As much as you’d like to keep your job, you would also like to rip the rug out from beneath Yumi’s feet until she falls flat on her face. But the reality is, you really need this job. So all you do is shake your head and grit your teeth. “No, not really.”
“Life is soo much more romantic when you have someone to love.” Sujin’s unblinking eyes make you wonder if she’s being held hostage against her will. Is her boyfriend tapping into her phone, listening to all of her conversations?
“y/n, you’ve never been in a relationship before. Do you ever feel like you’re missing out on something?” There’s a pout that rests on Yumi’s lips. Her tone leaks with faux sympathy. “Hobi just got married, and Nari’s having a baby. We’re all grown up, and I don’t want you to feel left out, especially at my engagement party next weekend. It might bring out some… bitter feelings.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, reminding yourself that you should definitely not push Yumi down the stairs at the end of your shift. “I think I’ll be content on my own.”
“Here, look through the app for a little while. Maybe you’ll find someone that you like. Just give it a chance, okay?” Sujin hands the phone back to you. “You should really think about it. San tells me he’s been worried about you.”
Your expression falls upon hearing your younger brother’s name. Of all people, San should know that you value nothing more than your independence.
“He just wants you to be happy ー for someone to take care of you.”
Some part of you believes that Sujin is projecting her opinions and throwing your brother under the bus. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you assure her. “I can be happy on my own.”
Nowadays, many people come to believe that a wedding ring is the solution to everyone’s misfortune. Supposedly, it’ll keep you safe from all things cruel in this world. They don’t seem to realize that there are problems that run much deeper than being single. It’s as if something must be inherently wrong with you if you’ve never had a partner, let alone a first kiss.
You have to admit that sometimes, their words can hurt like knives. It’s damaging to your self-esteem if you really think about it. Because surely, everyone wants to be loved and to be desired ー to be chosen. How nice would it be to lie in bed, held and comforted by something other than the warmth of your own body?
If you were to have a relationship, perhaps you could go to bookstores together and read for hours on end. The two of you could laugh and sing at the top of your lungs, dancing like fools in the dim light of the bathroom with toothbrushes tucked between molars. You could listen to ballads on the radio and finally resonate with the lyrics, plastering a goofy, lovestruck smile on your face. If you were in love, you could share childhood memories, and even the mundane details would be tucked away for safekeeping. You’d know one another's biggest fears and greatest vulnerabilities. Even when you reveal the ugliest parts of yourself, they would choose you over and over again.
If there was just one person to run their fingers across all of your curves, your dips, your scars, only to tell you that you are still the object of their affection, then perhaps you would give love a chance.
But having thought about love your entire life, and never yet to experience it, you’re certain that you’re better off on your own. Ever since you were a little kid, it’s always been you, yourself, and your grief. You’ve harbored yourself in your own bones for decades, so who knows you better than you know yourself ー truly and completely unfiltered? With your mind and wit so sharp, who will find you lovable when they discover there’s a blade where your heart is?
If you were to find a partner, there is simply no way that you can continue the life that you have. You could never return to them at the end of the night, bloodied and bruised, with no questions asked. Surely, it’s not an easy pill to swallow when you tell them that you're an assassin. There’s no sugar coating that.
Much like being a daycare teacher, being an assassin is just another job. You started living this secret identity because it earned enough money to take care of your younger brother after your parents had passed away. It put food on the table and cash toward your bills. Money would roll into your bank account by the thousands. At 18 years old, that type of money was unfathomable. But now that San is old enough to take care of himself, there’s really no need to continue this lifestyle.
Yet you pursue the chase because there’s a certain thrill that comes from seeking justice and vigilance. These monsters no longer hide beneath your brother’s bed. Instead, they lurk between the shadows ー among the alleyways and abandoned parts of town. They prey on those who are weak and exploit them for all that they are.
If the law enforcement team is never going to uphold their end of the social contract, you have to be the one to act first and eliminate them. So with every job completed, you can be certain that the world is safer one hit at a time.
But to continue being an assassin, you have to keep this secret under wraps. You’ll be forced to hide under a life of normalcy, as nothing more than a naive and innocent daycare teacher at the local library ー a background character in the story of others. In all honesty, you prefer to keep your secrets tucked away. Because to be loved is to be known, and you simply cannot let that happen.
Some people aren’t made for romance, and maybe you’re one of them. Nobody shall ever hold your heart in their hands without pricking their own flesh.
Despite all that is said and done, some part of you thinks that there’s no harm in checking out the unpromising dating app. Curiosity gets the best of you as you mindlessly swipe through all of the profiles. However, everyone you’ve come across is either too shallow, too arrogant, or too boring.
A defeated sigh slips past your lips until you come across a certain profile. You look closer at the photos, inspecting each one with great care. There are only so many pictures: one of him and his dog, a second one of him shoving a Chicago deep dish down his throat, and another with a young child. Tattoos litter across his sun-kissed skin, and piercings scatter his handsome face ー beautiful in the most unorthodox ways.
His bio reads: “To whom it may concern, I am a single father looking for a wife (DM me for serious inquiries only).”
Have you seen this man before? Could it be… him?
The longer that you stare at his profile, the more concerned you become. At this rate, you’ve created an entire fantasy about a relationship with this stranger, and now you’re planning the dinner menu for your wedding. But there’s no way that you’d actually consider swiping right and messaging him, right? You don’t even want a boyfriend! This man could be joking for all you know.
When the clock strikes the hour, a chime resounds through the air. You shake your head, finally coming to your senses. You slip your device into your pocket, forgetting about the man who lives in your phone.
Jeongguk. His name is Jeongguk.
“Appaaa!” There’s a piercing cry that slices through the air as the little girl begs for her father’s affection. From behind the bookshelves, the curious librarian pokes her head between the gaps to catch a glimpse of the commotion.
“Don’t let go, please, please, pleeease!” The young child slips her tiny hand into her father’s, shaking it back and forth with a sense of urgency.
Jeongguk stands frozen in place. The apples of his cheeks darken into a rosy hue. It’s a little embarrassing to be that parent ー the one who can’t control his child’s outbursts in the middle of a public space, let alone a library, an academic sanctuary that promises peace and quiet.
With a heavy, exhausted sigh, Jeongguk crouches down to meet his daughter’s innocent expression. “Minny, I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I ask that you give me ten minutes, okay?” His voice is firm and assertive. It’s a little rough around the edges, but it can’t be helped. He speaks in a way that commands attention from the room. This is the only way he knows how to demand respect from his subordinates.
“I just need to pick up a few things. We can go home afterwards, so be a good girl until then,” Jeongguk bargains. “You can go to the playroom, and the nice librarian will take care of you.”
Minji squeezes her tiny hands into fists, and she dies on the inside. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. Even the slightest change in her father’s tone makes her believe that she’s done something wrong. Her worst nightmare flashes before her eyes.
Would her father abandon if she were to misbehave? Or worse, would he dare to return her to the orphanage she was adopted from? What if her biggest fear comes to fruition? After all, it’s not uncommon for parents to realize far too late that kids are too difficult to handle. Then, they’re left hoping and praying for some kind of return policy for their own flesh and blood.
Minji’s eyes become glossy at the thought of it, unlocking a hidden memory from the past, but she refuses to let herself falter underneath his piercing stare. Yet no matter how hard she tries to keep the tears at bay, her emotions get the best of her, and her resolve crumbles into smithereens. After all, she’s only five years old.
It appears that the authoritative approach only works in the combat room, but perhaps not with a five year old girl. So Jeongguk lowers his defenses and drops to his knees. He wipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb, and she sniffles even harder when he comforts her.
There’s something about the little girl’s demeanor that reminds Jeongguk of himself when he was younger. Perhaps it’s the need for her father’s approval ー the desire to please and put others above herself. Maybe it’s her tenacity for standing tall and strong despite the dull ache in her tender heart.
“You can let it all out,” he reaffirms. A beat of silence passes by while he caresses her cheek, allowing the tears to fall. “You ’kay now?”
Minji reluctantly agrees with the slow nod of her head, but she avoids her father’s strong gaze, staring down at her shoes, sullen. When the warmth of her father’s hand disappears, another sniffle racks through her body.
Normally, Minji is never one to throw a tantrum, but what does Jeongguk know? Just when he thought he had a hang of the whole “parenting” thing, he’s thrown into a loop. In spite of Jeongguk’s confident demeanor, he genuinely doesn’t know the first thing about raising a child, let alone a daughter.
In his past ten years of being an undercover spy, he has diffused nuclear bombs and hacked into government files, but nothing has ever prepared him for being a single parent. Yet as a man and a father, he needs to do better. He needs to be better. The least he can do is try.
Jeongguk raises a hand between their bodies, extending his pinky for her to interlock, pledging his vow. “I’ll be back for you in ten minutes, I swear.” He reassures his daughter before planting a kiss on the crown of her head. He crosses his fingers, silently praying that she won’t cry again.
A dribble of snot falls from Minji’s nose. Her eyelashes are soaked. A dramatic hiccup heaves through her tiny, five-year old body.
Jeongguk can feel the venomous judgment of everyone around him. They must think that he’s utterly unfit to be a father, and they would be right.
They would wonder: What kind of child causes a scene in public, screaming, crying, and begging her father not to abandon her? How can he send her to the playroom where there’s nothing but disgusting germs and snotty kids? Is he seriously going to hand off his responsibilities to a total stranger in an underfunded public institution?
They can easily write Jeongguk off as a villain ー a big, scary man with piercings and tattoos. They could hurl accusations at him with no regard as to where they land. All it takes is a quick glance and a first impression (a false one at that). Obviously, they would think he’s someone who’s not built for child rearing because of the slits in his eyebrows and the gel in his hair. There must not be a gentle bone that resides in his big, burly body, but for that, they would be wrong.
The worst part about this whole “father” situation is not necessarily the judgment of others. He is familiar with scrutiny, and he knows it all too well. Rather, it’s that Jeongguk was never particularly fond of having children of his own. Some people are not cut out for fatherhood, and that’s simply the truth of the matter. But that doesn’t mean he won't do his best. He can’t let Minji down. He won’t.
As if Minji could read his thoughts, she raises her arms, begging to be picked up. Her sniffles have long died down.
Jeongguk takes a deep breath before caving into her wishes and hooking an arm around her knees. Minji’s grimy, little hands cling around his neck, and an inaudible, celebratory noise escapes from her lips.
Minji nuzzles her head beneath her father’s chin. She chatters about the incomprehensible things that only five year olds would understand. She is an enigma beyond her father’s own understanding, but he is determined to learn the ins and outs of this child no matter what it takes, even if it kills him.
After Jeongguk had finally dropped Minji off at the library’s playroom, he peruses the non-fiction shelves in search of answers.
How the hell is he going to raise a child?
He thumbs through all of the top-rated parenting books available, skimming through the blurbs, trying to absorb enough information to pass judgment on them. Because if he’s going to follow parenting advice from someone else, they better be successful in their trials. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be the one to fuck up his own child’s brain chemistry.
There’s a sudden tap on his shoulder that helps Jeongguk to escape from the existential dread of fatherhood.
“Excuse me, sir.” A soft voice sounds from behind him. Your breath catches onto the nape of his neck.
“How did this woman sneak up on me without me noticing? Maybe I’m losing my touch.” Jeongguk wonders, shocked by his carelessness. Because from behind, he didn’t hear the fall of a single footstep. The air was still and undisturbed until he felt your presence a moment too late. Normally, he would have surveilled everyone within a mile radius before they could even think about approaching him. But you managed to do it so effortlessly. He’s never met a woman so stealthy.
“I think this belongs to you.” Your voice interrupts his stream of consciousness.
The man before you turns around, and surely, he is a sight for sore eyes 一 a little intimidating to say the least. There’s a silver ring that protrudes from his bottom lip, contrasting against the subtle pink. Even more metal resides against the surface of his skin, a piercing on either side of his eyebrow. There’s a scar that sits on his cheekbone, and you can’t help but wonder how it got there.
You’ve only ever admired this stranger from afar. Most days, he never fails to browse the children’s manhwa section with a talkative child latched onto his leg. Up close, he looks like a tough guy, but the moment he sees his adorable daughter clinging onto your dress, the hard look in his eyes softens. A dimple carves itself into the curve of his cheek.
“Who do we have here?” His typical inflection changes into something slightly more playful. But he uses it to mask his exhausted state.
“Appa, appa! Miss y/l/n is so pretty, don’t you think?” Minji says enthusiastically.
A flame ignites beneath the surface of Jeongguk’s skin. He grows flustered under the little girl’s stare.
Your eyes widen. You’ve never been considered “pretty” by conventional standards. It’s not often that you hear those words, if ever, really.
“Minji, everyone has their own opinions, but you shouldn’t push your beliefs onto someone else,” you begin as a form of damage control. “I’m so sorry, but she ran up to me, saying she lost her father. She seemed so distressed, and I thought she was going to burst into tears if she couldn’t find you.”
Jeon Jeongguk has never known peace before. Minji is just as sneaky and conniving as her father; she’s a filthy liar just like him.
“No, no, it’s okay, don’t apologize. Her attachment issues have grown by the day,” Jeongguk replies, shaking his head. He wears a bashful smile, cheeks tinged with pink. “Minny, do you remember what I taught you?” He crouches down to pick his daughter up by the waist, squeezing her sides.
“Don’t sleep with wet hair otherwise I might get hippo-pot-a-therm-ia?” Minji recalls, butchering the pronunciation.
Jeongguk bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. “No, the other thing.”
“Minny doesn’t have to eat anything that she doesn’t want to?”
“I never said that.” A look of disapproval crosses her father’s features.
“Drawing mustaches on sleepy people is wrong unless it’s Seokjin samchon?”
He scrunches his nose, nodding his head from side to side as though he’s contemplating. “Well… yes, but no. Try again. The thing about beauty.”
“Oh! Beauty is something that comes from the inside!” Minji’s eyes light up upon recognition.
“Exactly, it comes from inside.” Jeongguk reminds her. He presses his pointer finger against Minji’s sternum for emphasis. Upon his touch, a sweet giggle falls from her lips.
“But you do think it’s true, don’t you?” Minji asks once again, persistent. “Miss y/l/n is really pretty.”
The blush on his cheeks grow a shade darker. “Minny, of course I think she’s pretty. I thought we talked about this.” Although he lowers his voice like it’s a secret, you can still hear every single word.
Minji giggles to herself, hiding her face behind her hands.
Jeongguk has always known your face, but never your name. “Miss y/l/n, right?”
It sounds odd to hear your title from a grown man, but you laugh it off with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what the kids at the daycare call me. It’s just y/n though.”
Jeongguk readjusts his daughter in his arms before reaching for a handshake. “I’m just Jeongguk.” It doesn’t strike how little his name means to him. Of course it’s just an alias for the sake of the mission. He picked it on a whim, but it suits him more than he had thought. Jeon Jeongguk, pillar of the nation. The lie tumbles out of his lips so naturally, and he doesn't have to think twice.
His eyes lower into crescent moons as the corner of his lips curve into a smile, something akin to fondness. A shallow dimple finds its way onto his cheeks.
Dammit. He’s cute.
You reach forward, cupping your hand around his in a reverent greeting. He holds you gently as if there’s a butterfly that had landed on the tip of his fingers. It contrasts against your strong grip.
Observant as ever, Jeongguk notices that there’s no sign of a ring on your hand. He digs through the arsenal of intel that’s locked up inside his brain. Thanks to Seokjin’s sticky fingers, he managed to spend an entire weekend studying the most recent census information, getting to know the profiles of everyone in the city (just in case). There has to be some information about you stored in his head.
“y/n… Where did I see that name before?” He thinks to himself, mentally sifting through all the files he’s read. “Ah, I remember now. File #901: y/l/n, y/n. Never married, never divorced. Orphaned at the age of eighteen. She has one younger brother. Both of them have clean records ー never been in trouble with the police, never even received a speeding ticket.”
“Jeongguk…” you murmur his name as if you’re testing the waters. “I know. I’ve seen you around before.”
Minji might have accidentally let it slip that he’s the man who's been her appa ‘for a very long time.’ She never seemed to mention that she’s adopted. Instead, she continues to describe her father as someone super handsome and very single.
“Really?” Although he’s noticed you plenty of times before, he’s surprised that you recognize him. Jeongguk doesn’t like drawing attention. He supposes that lately, it’s been difficult when his daughter attracts a lot of eyes.
“Most of the time, you wander through the aisles, half-dead like a zombie, with a cup of coffee in your hand.” You lean forward, speaking in a hushed tone. “You really aren’t allowed to bring drinks into the library, but my coworkers let it slide because they think you’re handsome.”
Perhaps you’ve overshared because Jeongguk stares at you blankly, taken aback by the news.
“Here’s another secret.” You beckon him closer once again, speaking barely above a whisper. “You should be careful about reading parenting books. You’ll end up stressed about what to do if it doesn’t work, and you’ll feel like a failure by the end of it.”
His eyes widen in surprise. He had hoped that the parenting books would put an end to his sleepless nights. “What do you think I should do then? I don’t know how to deal with this monster right here.” He ruffles Minji’s hair in endearment.
“Hey!” Minji shouts in defense of herself.
“That’s not to say you shouldn’t read any parenting books. It’s just trial and error,” you shrug. “As much as you don’t want to hear it, there’s really no right answer.”
Jeongguk drops his shoulders, slightly disappointed. The defeated look on his face is a feeling you can sympathize with.
“But if it helps, I think it’s important that children need a little bit of softness every now and then, especially because the world is so cruel.” You flash him a gentle smile, urging him to lighten up on his daughter. He needs to stop pretending that raising a child is anything like the military or the spy academy.
Upon hearing your conversation, there’s a mischievous sparkle that appears in Minji’s eyes. “Miss y/l/n, do you wanna be my eomma?”
You stare blankly at her, blinking as though you are processing her question. The words die on your tongue, yet you cock your head to the side, meeting the little girl’s gaze. “Y- your eomma?” you reiterate, startled.
“Pleaseee? I’m so lonely with no eomma,” Minji pouts, melodramatic as ever. She puts her hand on her forehead as if she’s feigning an illness.
“Jeongguk, do you happen to be looking for a wife?”
“Is this your way of asking me out?” He leans forward, inclined to hear your proposal.
You wonder if this is a bad time to mention his Tinder profile. It could be a little awkward knowing that you’ve also made an account on that wretched app. There’s nothing inherently embarrassing about wanting to find love through modern dating, but why is it so hard to admit it?
You weigh your options in your head, but Jeongguk beats you to it.
“Because if you did 一 ya’ know 一 ask me out, I would have said-” His words are cut short.
“You know what? I’m sorry if I was being too forward-” Mentally, you want to smack yourself on the head.
Jeongguk didn’t mention anything about a girlfriend, let alone a wife. He has no idea that you’ve seen his Tinder before. You never even swiped. You never matched.
After you found his profile, you tucked your phone away and refused to open the app again. The blissful state of not knowing is better than playing the waiting game. Will he swipe, will he not? Will he message you and jumpstart some epic romance?
You decide to tell him the truth and swallow your pride before coming across as a complete weirdo wrapped up in her delusions.
“It’s just that… the other day, my friends made a dating profile for me because they’re worried I’ll be single for the rest of my life. I came across your account, and I thought you looked familiar. So I just wanted to know if you’re actually looking for a wife because I swear, I’ll do it.”
Jeongguk has never been this close to making a breakthrough, and he thinks he’s half in love with you. “Are you being serious?” he wonders as a precaution. “Don’t lie to me because I really need this to be a dream come true right now.”
His daughter reaches forward to pinch his cheeks. Jeongguk winces at the pain, and he’s certain that this moment is real.
“Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Your face is devoid of any banter, eyes fixed on Jeongguk as if you’re genuinely offering yourself to him. “Why do you need a wife? Tax money? Green card? Ex who won’t leave you alone?”
“It’s complicated,” Jeongguk begins.
“Trust me, I know it's complicated when I see it.” There’s a challenging look in your eyes, urging him to continue.
“Well, the other day, Minny passed the entrance exam for Hwa Yang Academy. Now, the board has to conduct an interview with the family, but they said they would want both parents to be there.”
“You can’t tell them that you’re a single father?”
“I think it’ll hurt her chances of getting accepted,” he explains. “I want my daughter to attend a good school. Her late mother would have wanted the same thing for her.”
“Appa said lying is wrong, but he’s so good at it,” Minji thinks to herself.
“Do you really think that I’m fit for the role?” You’ve never really had a penchant for acting or playing pretend. Lying, on the other hand, that is your strong suit.
“I don’t mean to be too forward, but I think you’re perfect.” Jeongguk speaks his truth without any hesitation. He looks at you with such sweet and delicate eyes. “You seem to be great with children, and Minny adores you already.”
You eye him as if you’re considering his offer, but you’ve already made up your mind. “I’ll do it, but only if you do a favor for me too. Are you free next weekend?”
“Next weekend?” Jeongguk raises an eyebrow. It’s starting to make sense why you agreed to do this in the first place. You need something in exchange, quid pro quo.
“My friends are throwing an engagement party. They’re worried about me all the time because I’m single, but I thought I would lay it to rest if I told them I finally had a boyfriend, or at least someone I’m talking to.” Your speech gets faster and faster with every word that comes out of your mouth. “I know it sounds crazy, Iー”
“I’ll do it.”
You stare blankly at him, unsure if you heard correctly, but a smile continues to creep onto the corners of your lips. “You will?”
Jeongguk reaches forward, gently taking your hand in his. “It would be an honor to be your boyfriend,” he says, even if it’s just pretend. “And an even bigger honor to be your husband.”
“y/n!”
You don’t hear your name being called relentlessly until your co-workers are shouting for your attention. Their words fall upon deaf ears.
As usual, they had been gossiping about their boyfriends and their weekend plans. You checked out of the conversation the moment Yumi opened her mouth and uttered her fiancé’s name, resisting the urge to gag.
You look up from your lap, slightly too distracted. There’s a small, maroon stain and a rip in the skirt of your dress. It’s not easy keeping your clothes in pristine condition when you’re constantly running toward danger. You’re lost in thought, wondering how much the tailor shop will charge you for sewing it back together.
“What are you doing this weekend? There’s a new episode of that drama you like, right? Are you going to order delivery again?” Yumi assumes. “You know, you should step outside from time to time. Maybe you’ll find a nice person to date if Tinder doesn’t pan out.”
“Actually, I have plans after work,” you announce before returning to inspect the damage on your dress.
“With who? Did you meet someone on the app?” The cadence of Sujin’s voice is airy, shocked in disbelief.
“I’m meeting up with some guy.” You try not to make it a big deal, but these girls always blow it out of proportion. “I didn’t meet him from the app though.”
“You’re seeing someone? Who?! You can’t just drop the news and expect us not to ask for the details!” Sujin shouts.
“He was at the library the other day, and he asked me out. He’s the one with the tattoos ー y’all would recognize him if you saw him,” you explain. “Minji is his daughter.”
“The guy with the coffee?” Everyone collectively gasps upon connecting the dots. “Him? How did you manage to pull that?!”
Ouch. That hurts.
“I would dump my fiancé in a heartbeat if the coffee guy could blow my back out,” Yumi confesses.
How could she be so shallow? She was just talking about how much she loved her fiancé. Is he really that disposable? Besides, is Jeongguk nothing more than the coffee guy? A pretty face who’s made for a one night stand? You’re starting to think that people don’t actually value their relationships. They just want a partner for the sake of having one.
There’s a sudden chime that resounds through the air, pulling you out of your thoughts. The service bell at the front desk had been struck. It’s odd considering most people exited the library by now, knowing that it closes in ten minutes.
You all poke your head through the doorway to catch a glimpse of the patron. Their eyes widen in surprise when they see the coffee guy standing at the front desk. He stands tall and proud with a military stance, a head above everyone else. There’s a bouquet of pink camellias resting in his hand in place of his typical americano.
“Jeongguk? I thought we were meeting at the cafe.” Perhaps you remembered the details of the conversation wrong.
When you speak his name out loud, all the girls shift their gaze to one another. Could it really be true that you’re seeing a man?
“I thought it would be nice if I could surprise you, and we’d walk there together.” He flashes a smile that sends an arrow straight through the heart (and through those of your coworkers). For a second, you think that Yumi might just faint.
He’s handsome as ever, just as you recall. But today, there’s something that’s slightly out of place. There’s a bandage that rests on the bridge of his nose. It’s pink with Sanrio characters plastered all over it ー Hello Kitty and My Melody. There’s something about it that makes him even more endearing.
You try to stifle a giggle as you shoot him an apology. “Sorry, can you hang around for a few more minutes? I have some things to do before closing.”
“Take your time, angel.” Jeongguk says. Crinkles begin to form at the corner of his eyes as the curve of his lips overtake him.
You have to admit that the pet name made your heart flutter. He plays into the role of a sweet boyfriend pretty accurately. It’s all part of the act.
Sujin closes the door to the office. The girls break into squeals. They playfully hit your shoulder in disbelief, elbowing your sides. “I can’t believe it! y/n is going out with a man?!”
“And he’s hot!”
You shake your head before returning to your work station, ignoring their cheers. But you can’t help the subtle smile that reaches your lips. Maybe the girls will finally leave you the fuck alone.
“I’m so sorry for the wait.” You apologize as you approach Jeongguk, looking like a disheveled mess after an 8 hour shift. Your blouse is slightly wrinkled, and you’re certain there’s residue left behind from all the marker stains the kids had carelessly drawn on you. Your arm is full of stickers, and you’ll have to remember to peel them off later.
In the daycare, Jeongguk is propped on top of a bean bag chair that is much too small for his body. There’s a manhwa that rests in his lap. It’s the one his daughter can’t stop talking about.
“I got here ten minutes early anyways.” He places the book on the table before clambering to his feet. “Oh yeah, and these are for you.” He passes the bouquet of camellias.
You raise your hands, not really sure how to accept the gift. You’re not the type of girl to receive flowers, love poems, or pretty things. Nobody has ever pursued you in that way. All you ever receive are cursory glances and awkward smiles, but never anything as beautiful as this.
He inches the flowers a little closer to you, urging you to take it.
You pull the bouquet to your nose, taking a whiff of the sweet scent. “These are really pretty. Thank you for that.” You motion for him to wait just a moment longer as you place the flowers into a vase.
Through the porthole of the office door, you can see the girls squeal and jump around in unison.
“Are you ready? Should we head out?” Jeongguk’s lips curl into a boyish smile.
You nod, sharply turning your heels in an attempt to hide the fluster of your face. Before you could take a step forward, you’re pulled to a halt. There’s a tug on your arm that spins you around. Jeongguk’s fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you close.
“Wait one sec,” his breath fans across your face. “You have some chalk on your cheek. Can I-?” He raises his hand, tentatively learning forward.
Heat rushes to the surface of your skin, yet you nod your head, giving into his request. “Is this part of the act?” you wonder out loud, low enough for Jeongguk to hear.
“Only if you want it to be.” His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine.
As he leans forward to wipe the dust off your cheek, your throat dries. You freeze, attempting to avoid his gaze. You’re not certain whether you’ll explode upon gazing into his dark brown eyes.
Instead, you keep your sight locked straight ahead. It’s a terrible idea considering his strong chest is right in front of you. The top two buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and the space between his pecs are exposed, a necklace dangling in between. There’s a chance that you might die staring at it, so you accept the risk of embarrassing yourself and glance at his visage instead.
“There’s my pretty girl,” Jeongguk says, dusting off the chalk.
A wave of butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach, and your mind goes blank. You have no idea how to respond to such a compliment, and you’re unable to when your throat constricts. Your body warms, hyper aware of his palm on your cheek and the one wrapped around your wrist. Your one free hand that is not occupied by his clasp shoots up, hovering over the bandage plastered on his nose.
“What happened here?” The words splutter out of your mouth, trying to say something. Anything. Perhaps your anxiety would be less noticeable if you could just act natural ー If you could stop standing there without a single thought in your head.
“Bumped into a wall,” Jeongguk chuckles. It’s a blatant lie. He could never be this clumsy. In actuality, he had failed to duck during a sparring match with another spy at the agency. Fuck Kim Mingyu and his stupidly beefy arms. “Minny picked the bandage for me.”
“You mean you didn’t choose to wear the Hello Kitty? I think it suits you.” As soon as you graze the bridge of his nose, his laughter turns into a dramatic groan. Soft murmurs of ‘ow, ow’ fall from his lips.
“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry!” You apologize.
His other hand gently grasps your palm, pulling it away from his sprained injury. Maybe your dating profile was right when it mentioned you don’t know your own strength.
“Don’t worry, let’s just hope that Minny is okay,” Jeongguk remarks. “She insisted on wearing a matching bandaid because ‘if appa’s hurt, then Minny’s hurt.’ Kind of like a voodoo doll.”
Subconsciously, the thought of Minny wearing a matching bandage despite being perfectly fine forces your lips into a smile.
“Should we head out now?” Jeongguk leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I hold your hand? Give your friends a real show to watch?” It’s as if your hand wasn’t already in his.
You nod your head, suddenly remembering that this is all an act. You’re reminded of the girls crowded around the office door, peeking through the small window to catch a glimpse of the action.
Jeongguk’s hand glides down from your palm and between your fingers, lacing them together. A breath hitches in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You can hear the high pitched screams from behind when the girls are convinced you’ve stepped far away enough. But it isn't as loud as the sound of your heart beating out of your chest.
The two of you make your way to the cafe, walking side by side, hand-in-hand, occasionally bumping shoulders when you walk a little too close.
“How was your day? I realized I never asked you what you do for work, and I don’t really know much about you in general,” you chuckle, slightly embarrassed. “I thought we would at least have our first kiss by now if we were married.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your tone, one that Jeongguk easily recognizes because his informant, Seokjin, is nothing but shits and giggles.
“We would have done more than kissing, but we can start slow.” The corners of his lips curl into a playful grin. His words make you freeze, but it doesn’t seem to faze him.
With your hands linked together, Jeongguk is pulled back by your halted movements. He turns to face you, displaying his pretty eye-smile. “I’m a journalist,” he says. “I write investigative articles when they don’t ask me to cover silly politics.”
Although it’s not completely true, it’s not totally false at the same time. He writes exposé articles based on the intel he uncovers from his spy missions. The articles that he writes are written under an anonymous name, obviously so he can’t be tracked for exposing highly classified information. Nobody should ever know that he’s digging into the lives of corrupt politicians. Jeongguk might never see the light of day if word gets out.
“My routine is pretty consistent,” he explains. “I did some research for my article, wrote a few thousand words in my drafts before deciding to scrap the entirety of it, and I picked up Minny from kindergarten. I asked my friend to babysit her while I’m away tonight.”
Jeongguk wants to scrub his tongue after admitting that Seokjin is his “friend.”
“What about you? How’s your life at the library?” Jeongguk asks.
You describe the events that spiraled today as the two of you head inside the coffee shop and place your orders. “Well, the girls seemed convinced that we’re on a date,” you chuckle.
Jeongguk gasps. His hand clenches against his chest as if he’s wounded by your words. “You mean to tell me this isn’t a date? I thought we had something special.” He feigns exasperation. “You are my wife, after all, aren’t you?”
You don’t care to admit how amusing it is to hear the word wife coming from him. Despite the smile that plays on your lips, you shake your head no.
“This isn’t a real date,” you explain in denial. Nobody has ever asked you out, and you’ll be damned if the first time is just pretend. “But I guess this is good practice, especially when the stakes are higher for the interview.”
“Hmm… practice.” A crinkle forms between Jeongguk’s brows, lost in thought.
“I have to admit that I don’t have a lot of experience with dating, and that’s why we have to practice.” You shake your head, flustered. “Actually, I’ve never even been in a relationship.”
“Why’s that?” He asks the age-old question.
“I’m not really the type that people fall for.” You tuck your head between your shoulders, offering a shrug. “I’m quiet ー Not really good with people. I’m a bit of a late bloomer. I spent a lot of my youth taking care of my younger brother.” That’s only the jist of it. You don’t bother getting into the nitty gritty details. Being a full-time assassin isn’t necessarily “first-date appropriate” conversation.
“How many partners have you had?” You bounce back, diverting the attention away from you.
“Just one, my wife who passed. We had been together since we were in high school.” The lie seeps through his teeth so easily. It’s terrifying. But the less you know, the better.
The thought of being Jeongguk’s first “girlfriend” since the passing of his wife makes you incredibly nervous. Upon seeing the sullen avoidance in his eyes, you don’t bring it up again. Instead, you try to lighten the mood.
The two of you fall into a routine of volleying questions back and forth. If you’re planning to convince everyone that you’re husband and wife, you’re going to have to know more than just one another’s (supposed) names and (supposed) professions.
You start with the easy stuff. “Where did you grow up?”
“Busan. I miss the sound of the ocean, but I don’t mind the city as long as Minny goes to the best school in the country. What about you?”
“I grew up in a town so small you wouldn’t be able to find it on the map, but it’s not far from the capital.”
“Cryptic, I like it.” A grin forms onto the corners of lips before he takes a sip of his coffee.
Over the next hour, you learn that Jeongguk, as robust and intimidating as he looks, is warm and gentle. His favorite thing about being a father is having someone to love and protect. To him, Minji is a bundle of joy who makes his day brighter despite the hurdles that come with being a parent. He would do anything in the world to give his child the life he never quite had.
Likewise, having lost his parents at a young age, he learned to lead a fulfilling life all on his own. Instead of letting it bog him down, he clings onto the simple things for respite, searching for happiness in every corner of the universe.
He loves the rain and how it fleetingly smells like the warm and muggy summers of his hometown. Although he doesn’t experience the monsoon season quite like he used to, he loves to watch Minji splash around in her yellow rain boots. His favorite time of day is golden hour, especially when the fluffy white clouds are tinted with orange hues, reminding him of his first dog, Gureum.
Jeongguk has a slight addiction to black coffee, even if it makes his stomach hurt on the odd occasions (and you suggest he tries tea instead). He likes his eggs scrambled, and he prefers waffles over pancakes. He has plenty of awful habits like singing karaoke at four in the morning followed by cooking a pot of instant ramen to satiate his brutal cravings (yes, his food preferences are vital to your understanding of who Jeongguk is as a person, down to his core).
He tells you about his trip to Chicago some months ago where he definitely deepthroated a deep dish pizza after being dared by Seokjin. As much as he loved traveling, he was easily home-sick and desperately missing his fix of samgyeopsal. In fact, he tells you he would love to invite you over one day so he can make you a meal. And thank God for that because you are not handy in the kitchen whatsoever.
You learn that not necessarily all of his tattoos have meaning. The tiger is an emblem of his country while the tiger lily is his birth flower, and it is a silent, desperate plea to be loved. There’s a silly emoji on his middle finger just because he thinks it’s funny. He hates having to cover it up when he goes to work (tattoos may not have been the smartest idea knowing that he has to keep his identity a secret, but the damage is already done), and he’s certain that everybody judges him for the ink on his arms.
“As long as you like your tattoos, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” You offer him a warm smile as though nothing could ever hurt him. God, how he wishes that was true.
For some reason, Jeongguk doesn’t know how to react to your words. He’s only ever been told to cover up his skin as if he has something to be ashamed of.
In exchange for his stories, you trade Jeongguk pieces of your life. How your favorite memory from youth was when you had taken the city bus an hour and a half down to the beach with your brother, San, where you’d build sand castles on the brink of collapse. Sometimes, the smell of salt air and the longing for August still lingers to this day.
You tell him about your attempt at joining the knitting club so you could make cute sweaters and vests. They were never perfect. But at least they kept your brother warm during the winters. Besides, you had fun playing dress-up with him. Jeongguk finds that perhaps the boldest thing you’ve ever done is bleach your hair strawberry blonde, only for it to turn out orange.
His laughter blooms through his chest when you tell him about the time you almost set the microwave on fire. Your mom never told you that aluminum foil doesn’t belong in there, and you had to learn that the hard way. That’s probably why you should never set foot in the kitchen again. Nevertheless, you made mistake after mistake just so that San could have food on the table everyday after school. At least you’ve perfected the art of cutting fruit at this point ー no cooking skills required.
Although the two of you talk for what seems like hours, you can’t help but think there’s so much more to this man, and he’s unwilling to share. It doesn’t necessarily bother you because you, too, have secrets of your own. You can’t expect him to reveal everything about his life, even if he never does.
It’s well into the evening when Jeongguk walks you home. The path is quiet. It’s illuminated by the dim light of the street lamps. It feels like a scene from a movie you’ve once watched ー the origin of all your teenage fantasies. But this is real. You’re just a girl, standing in front of a boy, and that’s where it all begins.
“y/n?” The way he says your name brings you to a halt. His voice, although usually confident, is timid and uncertain. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We still have a lot to talk about.” He looks at you with stars in his eyes, although none of them belong to you, and they could never be yours.
Your lips press together in a tight line, nodding your head in affirmation. As you bid your goodbyes, you wonder if it would be inappropriate to give him a hug. After all, you’ve only just met the day prior, and this is nothing but pretend. Yet how will you ever grow accustomed to the touch of your husband?
Your arms remain crossed over your chest. You look down at your shoes, kicking a loose pebble at the front of your door, contemplating.
But he reaches for your hand, lightly grasping around your fingers. You jolt back as if he set your nerves aflame. Your gaze lifts toward his eyes, but it quickly lowers as Jeongguk descends down to one knee.
Your heart pounds against your chest, and you pray that he cannot hear it.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a proper ring…” He begins. “I hope you can accept this for now, and I swear I’ll get a diamond on your hand one day ー As big as you want.”
Jeongguk carefully pulls a small metal band from his pocket. It can easily be confused for the end piece of a keychain ー perhaps it’s something that his daughter had left behind in his coat, never to be remembered. But for Jeongguk, he knows perfectly well that it’s the pin from a grenade he had tossed the week prior on an escape mission. He slides the ring onto your finger, and although it is slightly too large, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I may not have been your first choice of a partner, and for all I know, I could have been dead last, but thank you for sticking by me. I swear I’ll take care of you. I’ll hold your heart with gentle hands, and I won’t ever let it break.”
After all, this is just pretend.
But for some reason, his voice sounds so earnest, and you almost believe him. To be frank, you never really cared about lavish weddings and seven carat diamonds. If you were to ever look for a companion, all you could ask for is an honest partner.
Too bad Jeon Jeongguk is anything but that.
Throughout the next week, you spend more and more time getting to know your new “boyfriend.” Because of this, you have to put your side hustle on pause and constantly decline assignments on your burner phone. You certainly wouldn’t want Jeongguk to overhear your plans to murder while he sits pretty beside you, waiting to hear about your day ー your hopes, your dreams, and anything else that’s on your mind. But it would be a shame if you cut your dates early, only to spend less than a second to put a bullet through your enemies’ heads.
You’d have much more fun with Jeongguk instead. Because he tends to plan the cutest surprise dates, and they’re so incredibly thoughtful. Sometimes, Minji would accompany your dates when Seokjin can’t babysit (he’s too busy trying to find his own baby mama so he can prove Minji wrong). Nevertheless, Minji adores the time that you spend together because it feels like you’re a real family.
The three of you would drive to the movies, play boardgames, and eat ice cream for dinner. Jeongguk had even taken you both to the annual carnival that you desperately wanted to check out. He wasn’t fond of going because those claw machines and arcade games are absolute scams! Yet you caught the smug grin on his face when he finally won a stuffed bunny after downing fifty bucks. He was just so addicted to the thrill of nearly winning: “I could have gotten that!”
During your dates, you would laugh for hours on end, but by the end of the night, Minji would fall asleep on her father’s shoulder. That’s usually your cue to head home. Sometimes, you think that he might kiss you goodnight, but he never does. His lips only ever brush your knuckles like the gentleman that he is.
…
True to his word, Jeongguk invites you over for dinner the following Friday.
When you arrive at his apartment, you are instantly the worst houseguest known to mankind. Your umbrella is dripping wet from the pouring rain, effectively ruining Jeongguk’s wooden floors. However, that’s not the problem that Jeongguk has with you. The problem is that you’re unable to stop laughing at Jeongguk’s attire.
Surely, your parents had taught you to be kind, especially to your hosts. Well, when Jeongguk swings the door open, revealing a frilly apron, something akin to what your grandmother would wear, you couldn’t help it! A picture of My Melody is stamped onto the chest, staring straight into your soul.
It isn’t lost on you ー the irony of a big, strong man, no doubt subjected to dress up in his daughter’s choice of clothing.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Jeongguk pouts, tilting his head like a puppy.
You stifle your giggle behind a tight lipped smile, but you’re so close to bursting at the seams. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
After placing your shoes at the door, Jeongguk leads you into his humble abode. He takes the bottle of chardonnay from your hands, thanking you for the gift, and places it onto the dining table.
“Dinner should be ready in an hour,” he informs you.
“I know I’m not very useful in the kitchen, but if you need help-”
Before you can even think about lifting a finger, Jeongguk is quick to suggest an alternative. “No, don't worry, you’re my guest. Just relax, okay? Minny is in the living room. You should spend time with her.”
In the adjacent room, Minji is crouched over her study material. Her worksheets spread across the coffee table. Each question covers a different subject: basic biology, political science, religion and ethics, foreign language, etc. You never quite realized how much pressure children face in the education system.
After all, you were never really concerned with grades. You never thought about applying to the top school in the nation. In fact, your grades had fallen down a slippery slope by the time you were in high school. Rather, all of your time was dedicated to earning money and supporting your family.
When you sit beside Minji, she beckons you closer before you can even greet her. “I’m dying. Help me,” she pleads with wide eyes. You look down to see her math homework ー fractions, Minji’s sworn enemy.
“Appa wants me to study, but he won’t give me the answers,” Minji whines.
You can’t help but chuckle. “Minny, you have to figure out the answers on your own if you want to do well.”
The sound of your advice makes her drop her head on the table with a soft thump.
“Here, let’s do a few questions together,” you suggest.
Try as you might, you only manage to complete half of the assignment. Minji huffs, slightly frustrated when she doesn’t understand the concept.
You pat her back, consoling the small child. “Once you eat dinner, you’ll have more brain energy. Maybe you just need a break.”
A lightbulb goes off above her head, and she springs to her feet. “Appa! Can I give eomma a tour of the house?”
You tilt your head, amused by the sound of Minji calling you her mother.
“That sounds like a great idea!” Jeongguk cranes his neck to peek at his devious daughter. “Just make sure you study again when you’re done.”
Minji takes her father’s approval as a cue to grab your hand in hers, showing you every corner of the house ー all of her drawings taped to the fridge, her favorite stuffed animals lined up at the end of the bed, and the sparkly clean toilet where she poops every morning. After describing everything in excruciating detail, you could have sworn that Minji would run out of words to say. But she never does.
“What’s behind that door?” You point to the end of the hall.
“That’s appa’s bedroom. He told me I should never go in there unless he gives me permission.”
You suppose it’s healthy to set boundaries between you and your child. It’s not like Jeongguk has distasteful art hanging on his walls, and it’s not likely that he’s hiding a dead body in there. He doesn’t seem to be the type to store skeletons in the closet. You, on the other hand, now that’s a different story. Perhaps Jeongguk just needs a little privacy at the end of every night.
Minji’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “Eomma! This is your room! Well, it’s a guest room, but appa says it’s basically yours if you ever want a place to stay.”
You step into the final room, glancing around the walls at a loss of words. Your eyes are drawn to the shelves. They’re brimming with so many novels. It’s like your own personal library. You could probably spend the entire day just browsing through each book.
As you slide open one of the drawers, you’re surprised to find an array of period products. There are also makeup wipes, an abundance of face masks, some sunscreen, and essential oils (apparently, women love that sort of stuff according to an article Jeongguk had bookmarked). There’s even a candle that’s labeled ‘ocean breeze.’
“Do you like it?” Minji looks up at you with wide, glimmering eyes as she uncaps the candle, shoving her entire nose against the wax with a hard whiff.
“I love it, Minny, thank you for the tour. I really appreciate it. You should get back to your studies. I’ll help your dad with dinner, but if you need my help, just call me, okay?”
Minji sniffles theatrically and drags her feet into the living room.
You head towards the kitchen to find Jeongguk slicing a daikon radish with military precision. There’s soft music playing in the background, accompanied by the pouring rain outside, occasionally interrupted by the soft huff of frustration when Jeongguk’s bangs cover his eyes. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong forearms covered in tattoos.
Jeongguk finally looks up at you in the doorway. He flashes you a smile ー delighted, and very much enamored. “How was the tour?”
“Your home is so cozy. But I don’t know if I was supposed to look at the top secret file you forgot to put away.”
“I- WHAT?” He yelps. The shock on his face is quickly replaced with an acute pain. The knife had sliced through his palm upon one careless motion.
“Oh, fuck,” he mutters under his breath, ensuring that Minji won’t hear his foul language.
Jeongguk drops the radish onto the cutting board with a thud. He forces pressure onto the wound with the pad of his thumb to stop the bleeding. In actuality, he’s more concerned about the food than he is about his finger.
“Oh my god, are you okay?” You rush over to his side, reaching for his wrist. “Let’s run it under cold water.”
The two of you waddle towards the small sink, attached by the hip.
“I was kidding about the secret files. I’m sorry about the cut.” You’re ridden with guilt, seeing that your mindless joke had cost Jeongguk his hand.
“No, no, you don’t have to apologize. It was my fault. I was the one holding the knife.”
You shake your head. “Don’t blame yourself either. It happens. I get cuts all the time.” If there’s ever a blade against your skin, it’s usually by the hands of your enemies. You, on the other hand, are a pro when it comes to handling knives.
Jeongguk shuts the faucet off, examining the cut. It’s shallow. You could hardly see it.
“I’ll grab a bandaid for you,” you offer, already sprinting down the hallway.
“They’re in the bathroom! Medicine cabinet!” Jeongguk shouts.
“I know! Minny gave me a tour of everything,” you shout back. You pluck the ointment and the familiar Hello Kitty bandages off the shelf before shuffling back to the kitchen. “Minny shared way too much information about the inventory of your medicine cabinet. Apparently, you have two morphine capsules left. You should get a refill on those.”
Jeongguk hums in recognition, and you wonder why he would need a painkiller as strong as morphine.
Taking Jeongguk’s hand in yours, you assess the cut and gently blow on the appendages with the purse of your lips. You place the pink bandage onto his hand, and out of habit, you give him a quick kiss on the booboo.
When you pull back, you’re absolutely mortified. You avoid his gaze, trying to hide your own humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. The kids at the daycare always ask for a kiss when they’re injured.”
“It’s okay, I understand.” A rosy hue dusts over Jeongguk’s cheeks. Why is he so shy when he’s usually the bold and courageous one? He’ll be sure to call Seokjin tonight to ask what this means ー to be so flustered and afflicted by your touch. Is his skin supposed to feel like it’s on fire?
With the look on his face, you’re not quite sure who’s more embarrassed. So you run towards the sink and nervously wash your hands, practically rubbing the skin raw.
“I’ll cut the radish for you.” You take his place by the cutting board.
When he asks if you’re sure, you just hum in response, having already started, and he succumbs to your offer. Typically, Jeongguk would not be willing to accept anyone’s help. But there’s warmth and sincerity in your tone.
“Let me tie this for you.” Jeongguk steps behind you, lightly brushing your hair back to keep it out of your eyes.
Heat rushes to your face, and you nod in agreement. Instantly, Jeongguk separates your hair into three different strands.
“You know how to braid?” you ask, chopping away at the radish. “You can just tie a simple ponytail if you want.”
“Minny said she wanted to go to school with a French braid. I didn’t know how to do it, so I looked at a video online. I’m not that good, but let me practice, okay?” He ties off your hair with the elastic that he keeps on his wrist for standby. “Tadaaa!” A proud grin sits on his pretty lips.
You can tell that the braid is a little too loose for your liking, but you’ll be sure to show him how to properly braid later. Perhaps after dinner. “How does it look?” You wonder.
“You’re perfect,” Jeongguk says affirmatively, sweet as ever. “Here, let me give you an apron.”
Before you know it, he loops a string of fabric over your head. It sits loosely on the back of your neck. Jeongguk’s hand rests on your shoulder blade, pushing your hips against the counter as he reaches to tie the string around the small of your back. He fixates on the knot that tethers around his thick fingers as he works on the fabric. His breath is hot against your neck. You can feel the heat radiate off of him.
When he pulls back, you swallow the lump in your throat, sighing a breath of relief. “Thanks,” you murmur.
The worst part is that Jeongguk doesn’t even realize the effect that he has on you. You wonder when he’ll put an end to this madness. Because at this rate, you think you might explode if he inches any closer to you.
As it seems, fate has other plans.
While he watches you cook, he hovers behind you; not because he’s controlling, but because he wants to make sure you’re safe. He has to admit that you’re skilled with a knife, but your cooking techniques aren’t quite there.
“When you cut, curl your fingers and tuck your knuckles underneath them.” Jeongguk inches closer and places his chin on the crown of your head. He slots himself against your back as his protective arms cage you against the marble counter. His hands slide down from your wrist, careful not to startle you, before cupping them around your fingers. He gently guides your hand, ensuring that you don’t cut yourself.
You don’t realize that you’ve been holding your breath until he steps away. Maybe cooking isn’t as bad as you make it out to be.
The heavy downpour of rain patters against the windows.
“It looks like the weather is getting worse. I didn’t realize it would storm tonight,” Jeongguk peeks between the blinds before lighting a few candles. The lamps had been flickering because of the torrential rain. “The roads aren’t very safe. If you want to stay over, you can take the guest room.”
You nearly drop the cutlery on the table in the midst of setting up dinner. “Ar- are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Stop with that, you’re never a bother,” he reassures you. “If you want, I’ll drive you home first thing tomorrow morning.”
You think about the invitation before ultimately deciding to accept. “Thank you, Jeongguk. And by the way, I really appreciate how you set the room up for me.” You shoot him a grateful smile.
“Anything for my wife.” The warmth of his words makes your heart flutter.
When the table is finally set, the three of you settle down for dinner.
You bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the beautiful arrangement of food you have yet to touch. There’s tender pork belly, fermented shrimp, spicy oyster radish, fresh garlic, and pickled cabbage among a bunch of other side dishes you can’t even put a name to.
“You said you were hungry, right?” Jeongguk picks up the cabbage leaf and stuffs the ingredients inside. He wraps it into a roll and places it on top of your fluffy white rice.
Watching the steam rise in front of you, you nearly bawl from how delicious it smells. The tears threaten to spill from the corners of your eyes.
Nobody has ever made you a home-cooked meal since your parents had passed.
“Are you- uhm,” Jeongguk lifts his hand, not knowing what to do with his own limbs. A set of chopsticks rests between his thumb and pointer finger, fish cake tucked between the silver metal. It hovers halfway across the table, abruptly stopping before he could reach your bowl. “You can cry, it’s okay-”
You don’t dare to move a single muscle when the tear falls down your cheeks.
Minji reaches over to wipe the droplet away. You can’t tell if she wants to comfort you, or rather, she’s just looking to steal a bite of your pork belly. But you’re inclined to believe it’s the former. Her father had already served a piece of meat in her bowl.
“It’s okay, eomma. You can cry. Just… don’t do it over the dishes. You don’t want your food to be salty,” Minji advises.
Jeongguk calls his daughter’s name, scolding. He plucks out a few tissues from the box and passes them across the table.
You wipe your eyes, praying that the tears will stop. “I’m sorry, I’m fine,” you shake your head. “I just don’t really remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal with anyone other than myself. I think my parents were the last people to ever cook for me.”
“What about your brother?” Jeongguk inquires.
“I’ve always made food for him growing up, and ever since he went to university, he’s been away from home. I really haven’t seen him in a while.” A sullen smile tugs on your lips. “We usually just talk on the phone.”
Jeongguk topples more food onto your bowl, filling it to the brim. “Whenever you come over, you can have any kind of food that you want. Just name it, and it’ll be yours. Even if I don’t know how to make it, I’ll learn. Now let’s eat up, okay?” He picks up a piece of pork belly, prepared to bribe you like a child who hasn’t stopped crying.
You open your mouth, allowing him to feed you, humming in satisfaction. You mutter a thank you before putting on your bravest smile as the rain pours outside.
It’s late in the night when you hear a soft sniffle that echoes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by a dull strike against the wooden surface, a call for your attention.
“Eomma?”
It never takes you by surprise when a child who isn’t yours calls you their mother. It happens often enough at the daycare center. Tiny humans let the term of endearment slip from their loose lips ー some variation of “mom,” “mommy,” or “eomma.”
These children cry for you when they have trouble opening their chocolate milk, or when they get a “booboo” from their arts and crafts activity, nothing but a measly, barely-there papercut. These children have an understanding that they’re safe with you. That you’d take care of them like a mother would, opening their bottles, helping to clean their mess, kissing their pain away, and wiping the tears dry. Sometimes they don’t notice their honest mistake, having called you their mother. Other times, they’re apologetic and embarrassed. But what’s there to be embarrassed about?
The vocabulary of children is limited to only a few hundred words, but they always resort to the one thing they know. Whether it is, “mom,” “mommy,” “eomma,” or so on and so forth, they trust you in the purest form. They feel protected and comforted by you.
Although you’ve heard it a dozen times before, you’ve never seen a child mean it so earnestly, not like Minji, and definitely not at two in the morning.
You open the bedroom door, looking down to see her tear stained cheeks. The instinct to protect kicks in like second nature. “Minny, what’s wrong?”
Lightning flashes through the sky, followed by a loud crash of thunder. The little girl flinches with a yelp, squeezing her eyes shut, pressing her hands against her ears.
“It’s so loud, ‘m scared,” Minji pouts.
You crouch down to wrap your arms around her shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She shivers in your hold, trying to calm down as you rub soothing circles onto her back.
“Don’t worry, Minny. The thunder can’t catch you while you’re in here,” you murmur, adjusting the nightcap on the top of her head. “You’re always safe with me.”
“Can I sleep with you and appa tonight?” Minji asks.
“Th- the both of us?” Your eyes widen. Perhaps Minji doesn’t quite understand the terms of your arrangement. You’re not actually her mom, and Jeongguk isn’t really your husband. Certainly, sleeping in the same bed as Jeongguk crosses some imaginary boundary. “I- I don’t know if appa would-”
“Can we ask him?” Minji pleads, and she looks like she’s about to burst. It doesn’t hurt to try, right?
So you relent, and the two of you tiptoe down the hall to Jeongguk’s bedroom, hand-in-hand. There’s a light that leaks from the bottom of the doorway. Could he possibly be awake this late in the night?
You motion at the door, encouraging Minji to knock. She has to be a big girl, expressing her needs, asking for help when she needs it.
“Appa!” Minji whacks the palm of her hand against the wooden surface, and you have to correct her form. You squeeze her hands into a fist, showing her how to properly knock and urge her to try again.
On the other side, you can hear the shuffle of papers and the sound of wheels scraping against the linoleum floor, followed by the pad of footsteps. The door swings open, revealing a set of sleepy eyes, shrouded behind a pair of glasses. Jeongguk’s hair is disheveled, having run his hands through his overgrown mane a million times (he’s been pondering whether he should cut it, but you’ve shyly expressed how he looks handsome either way, and right now is no exception).
“Appa, can I sleep with the both of you tonight?” Minji hiccups between sniffles, and a tear treads down her cheek. When a crash of thunder sounds through the air, she lurches forward to wrap her arms around her father’s legs, shaking like a leaf.
Jeongguk pats the top of Minji’s head to comfort her. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“The sky,” Minji shakes her head, pressing her face deeper into her father’s thigh. “Too loud. It’s scary. Wanna sleep with you and eomma.”
Normally, Jeongguk would be stressed, weighing his options, trying to determine the best course of action for his child. But there’s a sigh of relief that slips from his lips when his gaze meets yours. There’s a deep blush that spreads across his cheeks. “Is this okay with you?” His lips move in silence, mouthing the words, only for you to see.
In response, you nod your head and flash him a concerned smile. “You?” You mouth the words right back.
Jeongguk’s answer is obvious when he wraps his arms around the little girl and lifts her into the air. “Let’s go to sleep, Minny.”
Jeongguk taps his chin, pondering, as he stares at the little girl sandwiched in the center of his bed. “Something doesn’t feel right.” But there’s an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes. As tired as he is, he doesn’t seem to let it show. “You know what we should do?”
Before you can respond, he’s already darting out of the bedroom. He stumbles into the living area, grabbing all the mismatched furniture that he can find. There’s a coat rack in one hand and a stool in another. He runs to grab a fishing pole from the closet, one that he had stolen from Seokjin and never returned.
“What’re you doing?” Your brows furrow, confused. But the smile on your face tells him that you’re thoroughly entertained.
“We’re building a fort! Come help me!” He takes hold of your hand and leads you into the living room. “Here, take as many pillows as you can.” Instantly, he holds out a stack of cushions. And who are you to say no?
With your inventory in hand, you run back to Jeongguk’s bedroom and plop them down onto the bed. “Minny, put the pillows wherever you want! Make it comfy for yourself.”
The three of you get to work, constructing a pillow fort, and suddenly, you’re five years old all over again.
Jeongguk returns with spare bed sheets and throw-blankets, tenting them over the makeshift poles. When you’re finally satisfied with your fort, the two of you climb onto the mattress on either side of Minji, huffing and puffing from all the energy exerted.
“That was fun,” you say, exasperated. A beat of silence passes by as you catch your breath. “Thank you again for letting me sleep over, by the way.”
There’s fondness in Jeongguk’s eyes as he turns to look at you. “I hope you know that you can stay as long as you want, and you’re always welcomed whenever.” His sentiment makes your heart beat a little faster. “I told you I’d take care of you.”
“You should know…” As you stare at the roof of the makeshift fort, you try to make sense of how you ended up here. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like you deserve it. “Taking care of me is more trouble than it’s worth.”
Jeongguk’s voice is stern and relentless. “It’s not trouble. Not if it’s you. Do you really think I scare so easily?”
You think you might cry, but you’ve already used up more than enough tears from your daily allowance. So you turn to thank him, only to be met with Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes. He only hums in response ー there’s no need to thank him.
His face is illuminated by the faint glow of the desk lamp on the other side of the room, the one he abandoned in favor of lulling his precious daughter to sleep. Minji holds her father’s hand while you stroke her hair. Within a few short minutes, she’s sound-asleep. The room is quiet, save for her soft snores.
“Poor Minny, I hope that this doesn’t ruin her sleep schedule,” you whisper into the night.
“She might need a nap tomorrow, but that’s okay. It happens sometimes.” Jeongguk lets out a yawn as he tugs the blankets up his shoulders.
You remind him with gentle caution, “What about you? You shouldn’t sleep so late.”
“I know, I know.” He presses his palms against his eyes, utterly exhausted. “I just wanted to squeeze one more chapter in.”
You peek out from the gap in the fort, scanning the mess that lies on top of Jeongguk’s desk. Books are stacked across two different piles, separated by genre ー One of them being social psychology books required for his research; “How to Win Friends and Influence People” sits on the very top.
Another stack is dedicated to the parenting books he often checks out from the library. There are Hello Kitty post-it notes that fill up nearly every page, bookmarked for future reference.
Your eyes return to Jeongguk’s figure, convinced that you can steal a glance, evaluating his exhausted state. But he already has his eyes trained on you, albeit very groggy. A dopey grin stretches across his lips. If he wasn’t already tired before, he definitely is now.
“You don’t have to do all this alone, Jeongguk. You need to rest.” You flash him a matching smile, hoping that the sentiment reaches him. “I don’t think that you scare easily, but I don’t think you’re immune to it either. And that’s perfectly okay. We’re all just people trying to get by.”
Jeongguk sinks deeper into the pillows, succumbing to his sleepy desires. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slurring his words. Another yawn slips from his lips. “I’m just used to it 一 being on my own.”
“Well, you’re not on your own anymore. You can count on me. We’re a team, remember?”
Jeongguk hums, reduced to non-verbal responses that don’t require much energy. Exhaustion tugs at his eyelids until they’re shut. He makes a mental note to talk about this with you another day.
You wave a hand in front of his face, convinced that he’s far gone from the state of consciousness. “If it makes you feel better, I can head back to my room now,” you whisper. You think it might be futile to warn him, considering he’s not awake. But as you peel the blanket back, one foot off the bed, there’s a warmth that envelops your wrist, and you halt in your tracks.
“Stay,” Jeongguk, as tired as he is, manages to mutter with conviction.
His grip doesn’t falter, and so, you relent. You crawl back beneath the sheets and let the night fade into dawn.
The sound of rain splashes against the window. The petrichor smells like childhood. It feels like home, and Jeongguk has never slept so soundlessly in his entire life.
Somehow, Jeongguk wakes up long before you, and you want to curse him for looking so handsome at the crack of dawn. His hair, although disheveled, looks perfectly imperfect. His shirt, as loose as it is, hugs his body in all the right places, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His round specs perch on the bridge of his nose.
“What do you think about going on a family outing?” Jeongguk suggests over breakfast.
Minji’s eyes widen as excitement fills her tiny frame.
“That sounds like a fun idea,” you chime. “We should spend more time together so we can be perfect for the interview.” Because loving this man and his daughter is nothing more than a performance, right?
“Maybe we can stop at the convenience store and have a picnic in the park. What do you think?” In Jeongguk’s mind, he maps the layout of the market, pinpointing the food that the three of you would enjoy: kimbap, dried squid, potato chips, banana milk, and even fish shaped ice cream.
“The weather cleared up today. It’s beautiful outside.” You say, chowing down on a bite of strawberries.
Jeongguk raises a brow, questioning. “You want to go today? I thought you would want to go home after spending the night.”
“I don’t have much else planned on a Sunday. It gets kind of lonely at my house,” you shrug. “Are you sick of me already?”
But Jeongguk shakes his head. He’d be foolish to ever push you away.
…
In sync, both you and Minji enthusiastically bounce on your feet through the streets of Seoul. You could easily pass as a family from that simple action alone. It’s evident when elders cross paths with you, a fond smile sitting on their faces: “You have a beautiful family!” There’s no denying that. The three of you are picture perfect as you link hands on either side of Minji because she is, in fact, the center of your universe.
When you arrive at the convenience store, Jeongguk picks out a variety of nutritious food while Minji tries to slip cookies into the basket. She’s convinced that her father is not looking because he’s too busy sneaking glances at you from the other end of the snack aisle. He doesn’t think anyone would notice, but Minji surely does.
For some reason, he feels so content standing in a supermarket with his wife who picks the freshest fruit, and his daughter who tries to distract him from seeing the junk food in her hands. In fact, he could probably spend the entire day comparing vegetable prices, and he would still have the time of his life with you. He used to hate running errands, unless it was doing laundry. But now, he doesn’t seem to mind it. Perhaps it’s because he has two companions at his side, and it feels a little less lonely.
“Jeongguk?” You call his name from down the aisle. “Do you want me to grab coffee for you?” You reach for the top shelf on your tippy toes, struggling to grip your hands around the bottle.
Within an instant, Jeongguk is already at your side. He wraps an arm around your waist to prevent you from falling forward. A heat envelops your hand as he wraps his fingers around your palm. “I think I’ll skip on coffee for now. How about tea?”
Upon hearing his deep voice against the shell of your ear, you grow flustered. The heat of his body makes you freeze, and all you can do is nod your head, stunned. He reaches one shelf over to pluck a large bottle of tea, one that you can all share.
Although he’s dropped your hand, he keeps a strong arm around your waist. His shoulders are broad enough to simply devour you. Even his chest is so firm pressed against your back.
“By the way, angel, don’t you think we’ve moved on from the formalities?” There’s a pout that rests on his lips. “I’d like it if you could call me something other than Jeongguk. I think it’s more convincing that way.”
“But that’s your name. What do you want me to call you? Babe? Baby?”
He shakes his head as he rests his chin in the crook of your neck. His hair brushes against your cheek, and your breath hitches in your throat.
You stutter the words out of your mouth, trying to act unaffected. “H- how about darling? Honey? Sweetie? … Handsome?”
He doesn’t react to either of them, but handsome definitely makes him giggle.
You ponder for a moment more. “Then what about love?”
His arm squeezes your waist a little tighter as he presses an innocent kiss to your cheek. “That’s perfect, angel.”
He unravels himself from you as you stare blankly at the beverage aisle in complete awe. You brush your fingertips against your cheek where his warmth lingers.
This is still practice… right?
As you stroll through the park, you come across a live performance at the base of the fountain. There’s a man playing guitar, and he’s serenading the crowd as he busks for money. The three of you stand to admire just for a moment.
A few feet away, Minji is spinning and dancing to the soft melody. Meanwhile, Jeongguk moves his head to the beat of the song, singing the words, albeit faintly.
“You have a pretty voice.” You nudge your shoulders against his to catch his attention.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” He’s bashful.
“You should sing for me one day.” You raise your brows, trying to tempt him.
He contemplates your request, but he teases you with a soft “maybe.” He bumps his shoulder against yours like a high schooler with a crush.
You return the sentiment in a playful back and forth. His sweet action makes you squeal, but not for the reason that you think. Because the affectionate brush of skin against yours quickly transforms into Jeongguk hauling you into his arms. His thick biceps wrap beneath your thighs, and he lifts you into the air. You can’t stop yourself from giggling when he spins you around. There’s a combination of thrill and euphoria in your chest.
Jeongguk’s mind briefly wanders back to the conversation he had with Minji right before he tucked her into bed last night. “Appa, do you have a crush on eomma?”
He had scoffed at the question, brushing it off as if that was far from the truth. But Minji had thought otherwise. “When you have a crush on someone, you think about them all the time. You want them to be happy, and you would do anything to make them smile. Whenever you look at eomma, I can see your ears go red. I think you were shy when she kissed your booboo, and you probably want to kiss her back, right?” For some reason, Minji’s advice seemed to be more introspective than what he could ever pull out of Seokjin.
Jeongguk shakes his head, returning back to reality as he tucks the memory away. When he places you on the ground, you pant with adrenaline. “I thought I was going to fall.”
His gaze meets yours, and he playfully brushes his knuckles beneath your chin. The peak of sunset illuminates your eyes, and you look golden. An epiphany flashes through his mind, and Jeongguk mutters a curse that echoes through his thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wants to kiss you.
But as usual, Jeongguk’s mind wins over his heart. He bites his tongue back and offers the next best thing: “Do you think I’d ever let you fall?” He grabs your hands as if nothing had happened ー as if he isn’t falling in love ー and you sway to the beat of the music, skipping to the lawn where you can enjoy your picnic.
…
The park is bustling with so many individuals going about their day, minding their own business. The city comes alive with all of the action that surrounds you.
“Eomma, what’s that over there?” Minji points at an art display at the other end of the fountain. There’s a throng of people, crowding around the small space. The three of you pack up your meal, making sure to toss all of your garbage, before heading over to catch sight of the action.
There are rows of copy paper attached to a fishing line. It strings across a makeshift perimeter, rooted with no rhyme or reason. Apparently, all the buzz is about an interactive exhibit. Anonymous letters from passersby are posted for you to view, and you may even contribute by submitting your own story. You could write about anything you want.
“That sounds like a fun idea,” Jeongguk suggests. So he grabs paper and markers for the three of you as you get to work.
Jeongguk tries to steal a glance at your story, but you throw your body over the paper.
“Hey, no peeking!” you shout. “These stories are supposed to belong to strangers, okay? Let’s keep it anonymous.”
On the other hand, Minji is enthusiastic to show her father the family portrait she’s drawn.
As the minutes pass, you finish jotting your thoughts. It’s not perfect by any means, but the sentiment is still there. When all is said and done, you’ve agreed that you wouldn’t read one another’s stories. One day, you both will disclose the contents of your letter, and you will finally know the truth, but today is not that day.
.
.
.
Dear reader,
If I’m being honest, I’ve always felt undesirable. Nobody has ever confessed their feelings for me. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I had my first kiss. I’ve never been stopped in the middle of the street, only to be told that I have a beautiful smile. I’ve always been average at best.
My friends are concerned that I’m lonely. They’re convinced that I need someone to take care of me, but I constantly tell them that I can do it on my own. I’ve done it my entire life.
I’ve held my own hand, swallowed the heartache, and reminded myself “I can do this!” before doing the scary things I never wanted to do. I patted myself on the back when I finished school, earned my first job, and paid all my overdue bills. I raised my younger brother at the age of eighteen as if I was a single mother. I woke up to an empty bed every single day and fed myself scraps of food, even when I didn’t want to. Sometimes, it was burnt, charred, and a little too salty. But that’s what love tastes like, right?
Through the smooth sailing and the rough patches, there was no boyfriend, no girlfriend, no partner or lover. Just me. But the more that I think about it, I am so, so tired.
Perhaps I grew up too fast and burned too bright. Because now, I don’t know what to do. There’s a guy that I like, or at least I think I do. Nobody ever taught me how to sort out my feelings. I’ve always been told to give and give and give. I’ve had to sacrifice my life, my time, and all of my energy. I was never allowed to feel anger, sadness, or human connection. I never had anything for myself, and I feel empty.
But lately, being with him brings me to life.
Although I don’t know what it’s like to be in love, this is the closest thing I’ve ever felt to it. When I’m with him, my inner child wants to come out and play. That little girl has always lived in my imagination. I don’t know her very well, but she’s running around, laughing and dancing as if she knows no pain. With him, she is always reminded that she is beautiful and spectacular. That she is stronger than anyone he knows. She is safe. She is protected. Above all, she feels seen. She gets ice cream for dinner, and it’s sweet. It doesn’t quite taste like the love she once knew, but somehow, she thinks it’s even more delicious.
Surely, yes, I can take care of myself. But maybe we can learn to take care of each other.
.
.
.
Hi. I don’t know who cares to read this, but if you do, welcome.
Where do I even begin? I know this sounds pathetic, but… I don’t think anyone has ever truly understood me for who I am. Perhaps that’s my fault. I constantly reinvent myself to be the person that they want me to be. Society has so many expectations as to how I should look, how I should act, and how I should feel.
Let me paint you a picture. I’m big ー horribly buff. I have tattoos and long hair. All the neighborhood grandmas tell me I should cut it because I’d be more handsome. They even tell their grandchildren not to look up to me because I’m far from being an aspiration. Even if I’m the most charming person in the room… if I change my appearance ー if I lose weight, cover my tattoos, and buzz off my hair, they’d find another reason to hate me. It’ll never be enough. They’ll always perceive me as the bad guy and villainize me for everything I do.
They say it’s better to be feared than to be loved if I cannot be both. But… I think I want to be loved. I want to be loved so bad that I would do anything to make people look at me. Yet they all shove their unwanted opinions down my throat, and I have nothing left to swallow but my own pride. I have no choice but to be exactly what they want.
Most people assume that I’m indestructible. Fortified. That I don’t have a single worry in this world. They think that I can shoulder all of these burdens, and nothing could possibly hurt me. Supposedly, I don’t ever cry ー I never break or bend or shatter because showing emotion is a sign that I’ve already lost.
But it’s not true.
I’m softer than I look. I worry that I’m not good enough. I feel like I suck at my job, and I constantly make mistakes. I don’t know how to be a good father, but I try.
I don’t really know what I want to say. I just wish that people didn’t feel entitled to my body. My body is my own except when it isn’t. It happens more often than not. Maybe then, I could finally be myself, whoever that may be.
It sounds like my life is awful, but I promise it isn’t that bad. Recently, I’ve found a small glimmer of hope. There’s one person who accepts me for who I am. She doesn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. She looks at me like I’m human ー as if I’m someone who’s worth it. Like I’m more than just an idea. She showed me that there’s kindness in this world ー that there’s bravery in being soft. She sees me, and scary enough, I think she can even see right through me. I’ve told her so many vulnerable things about myself, and she could probably stab me in the back with all that she knows. I think it would be worth it though.
There’s still so much I have to tell her. She may not know the whole truth, but one day, she will. I hope she doesn’t leave me when she finds out. Until then, I will take care of her. I will keep her safe and protect her with every inch of my life. I promise.
By the end of the week, you and Jeongguk have amped yourselves up for Yumi’s engagement party. But there’s one problem.
Jeongguk is late.
He’s never late. When he needs to pick up his daughter from school, he always shows up thirty minutes before dismissal. On date nights, he knocks on your door while you’re in the midst of putting on makeup, and he gladly watches you doll yourself up for the entire hour. For Jeongguk to be late, something must be terribly wrong.
The two of you had agreed to meet up at Yumi’s party seeing that Jeongguk was running behind from work. But where could he possibly be when you need him the most?
Outside of Yumi’s apartment complex, you pace anxiously, twiddling with the engagement present in your hands ー a cast iron skillet that you and Jeongguk had both bought at the department store. From the sidewalk, you can hear the sound of music streaming from the open windows. Endless chatter filters between each beat. You glance at your watch for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Jeongguk, where are you?” You groan, ready to accept defeat.
A nervous sigh falls from your lips. Your shoulders slump. If you have to wait any longer, you might just head into the party all on your own and lose face in front of your friends.
Suddenly, you hear the echo of your name from down the street. Jeongguk is sprinting towards you. He’s a blur of motion. Before you realize it, the air is knocked out of your lungs. Jeongguk had overestimated his speed, missed his landing, and he is colliding into you with open arms.
“Angel, I’m so sorry I’m late.” He tucks his head against your shoulder, panting. His cheeks are hot, and his hair is disheveled. He murmurs apologies against your skin. The scratch of his voice etches a frown onto your face.
Between the two of you, Jeongguk is the more composed one. You’ve always known him to be calm, collected, a little silly, but lovely nevertheless. You’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s shaking.
You squeeze his shoulders in an attempt to peel his body away from yours. But his arms wrap around your waist even tighter, unwilling to part ways. This scene is rather familiar, something akin to a little child seeking comfort. You pat his back, hushing him, as to tell him that everything will be okay.
So you start counting to ten, reminding him to breathe in and out. You place your hand on his chest, strong and reliable, right over the beat of his heart. His eyes close, concentrating all of his energy on the blooming feeling inside of his ribcage. So you paint a pretty picture for him as you dwell in a little puddle of grief together.
“My mom used to tell me that if you transport yourself to a happy place, then all your worries will melt away.”
Jeongguk doesn’t respond, but he hums against your collarbone. He wants nothing more but to hear you talk. He loves the sound of your voice. What is your happy place?
“These days, I picture myself with you in your house. We’re baking a cake with Minny, and it’s going terribly wrong.” You let out a chuckle, and it’s the sweetest thing Jeongguk has ever heard. “Well, actually, the taste is perfect. You’re the head chef after all, and you’re so talented. You know better than me.”
You interrupt your own story with something that will definitely make him laugh. “Did you know that I’ve been borrowing cookbooks from the library? I know it sounds ridiculous. I want to get better so you don’t have to cook all the time. It’d be such a shame if I accidentally poisoned you and the cops would swarm in, charging me with second degree murder.” You can feel his smile against your neck. “I found a recipe for buckwheat noodles, and maybe we should try it out next weekend.”
He nods against your neck, sniffling. He doesn’t want to break it to you, but all you need is a boiling pot of water to cook the noodles.
“Well anyways, in my happy place, the kitchen is a disaster because there’s icing everywhere. Sprinkles are in your hair. I think I have flour in my bra and butter on my cheek. But we’re having fun, singing along to the radio with all of the wrong lyrics. I’d ask you to dance, and when you’re too scared of looking stupid, Minny would pull out a dance move that’s even sillier than what you could ever imagine. Because even if we can’t do it perfectly, whether it is cooking or dancing or singing, we’re still trying.”
There’s a wet tear that falls onto your collarbone. You trace a circle against Jeongguk’s chest, reminding him to concentrate all of his feelings right there. His shoulders relax and his breath evens out.
“When we’re in our happy place, we never go hungry. So if you ever feel sad or anxious, then just meet me right here. I’ll bring the cake ー sorry, just the ingredients, actually, but I’ll get better at cooking. I swear! Minny will bring her cute attitude. And you can just bring yourself.”
There’s a soft breeze that surrounds you. The moonlight conspires with the flight of the fireflies, illuminating the dim sidewalk. The party is long forgotten as you hold onto Jeongguk for just another moment. Reluctantly, he steps back with his head down. His eyes train on the pavement.
“How do you feel, love? Look at me.” You cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, nuzzling into your embrace.
After taking a deep sigh, he lifts his head to reveal a bruised cheek and a gash above his eye, right on the brow bone. The blood runs dry.
Shock runs through your body. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?” You gently move his head from side to side, examining every inch of his skin to check for more injuries. But your eyes are frantic. Your hands run through his hair, feeling for bumps and bruises. The search comes up empty, but your throat constricts at the thought of someone hurting your husband.
You grab the cast iron skillet, wielding it like a weapon with the force of a grip so tight that it threatens to bend beneath your fingers. Your other hand clenches his palm, stomping in the direction he came from so he could lead you towards the perpetrator.
Whoever did this to Jeongguk is going to pay, and you’re willing to kill whoever it is. Because for him, you would wage a full on war, running straight into your demise if it meant fighting for him. You would barrel through fire, load your rifles, and draw your daggers no matter what it takes. If they ask you to rip your heart out and put it in his hands, you would have considered the deal done long ago.
Jeongguk is quick to extinguish the fiery passion that fuels your anger, reminding you to not make any rash decisions. The flash of his doe eyes is enough to soothe your worries, and all you want to do is hold him.
The truth is, Jeongguk had already taken care of the situation. As the story goes, he had accepted a side mission to stop the smuggling of antiques from a museum ー gifts from a billionaire tycoon who had long passed. His heirs had sent the treasures to be appraised in the city before it was quickly intercepted by a smuggling ring.
Jeongguk managed to save original art from dynasties past (no doubt stolen), rare coins, china sets, and clusters of intricate jewelry. He stopped the ploy before the thieves had even left the warehouse. However, being the best of the best does not mean he is able to escape unscathed every time.
Jeongguk did not account for the hidden explosives on the agenda. A shrapnel had grazed his skin, forming a deep gash above his brow bone. Had he not been more careful, he would have been in much worse shape.
Although Jeongguk had completed his mission, barely injured, he can’t help but feel guilty for showing up late. If his wound was much more serious, or perhaps he was left for dead, he would not have made it to Yumi’s engagement party. The last thing Jeongguk wants is to keep you waiting.
While he zipped through the streets of Seoul, he didn’t even have a chance to think of a lie. All he could think about was running to you. So he says the first thing that comes to mind. “The airbags in my car set off.”
“You were in a crash? Was Minny with you? What are you doing here? You should go to a hospital!” The words splutter out of your mouth.
His hand cups yours as they rest on his cheeks. “Minny’s with Seokjin today, so don’t worry. The collision was really minor, I swear. I already went to the emergency room, and they said I’ll be good as new.” His voice is eerily calm.
He laces his fingers with yours and presses his lips against your knuckles before promptly taking the iron skillet from your hands. “I don’t want you to worry, let’s just go to the party, okay?”
You’re too concerned to even dwell on that tender moment of intimacy. “You worry me too much, you know?”
“I know, angel. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
You squeeze his hand a little tighter as you shake your head. “I don’t need anything. I’m just glad that you’re here.”
But little do you know, there’s a diamond ring worth millions burning a hole in Jeongguk’s pocket. Some dead billionaire isn’t going to miss it.
Everyone at the event is captivated by Jeongguk. Of course they would. It’s easy when Jeongguk is so charming in such a deceitful way. He can easily spin different versions of himself after each new greeting, creating a hundred nuances to his personality in an instant. He could tell everyone that he’s the prince of Joseon, and they would easily fall for his lies because of the charisma that he oozes.
Your friends see him as the best boyfriend in the world, someone who’s the total package and simply put, he’s way out of your league. He’s romantic in every aspect of the word, he’s open about his feelings, and he’s the purest definition of a “girl dad.” What more could you possibly ask for? Whatever it is, Jeongguk is exactly that.
Even when Jeongguk has no need to impress the men at the party, he has dozens of conversation topics up his sleeve. It’s impressive when he knows basically everything about everything. You name it: video games, boxing, and the federal reserve. This arsenal of information is stored in his mind simply because he’ll never know when he needs to strike up a conversation about camping, barbecuing, or fishing (despite never having an interest to sit and stare at the water with Seokjin for hours on end). Men are so simple minded. They’re absolute fools.
Thankfully, your brother, San, is just another man who falls for the thinly veiled ruse. He seems to approve of your relationship with Jeongguk. Mostly because he can talk about their passion for different cuts of meat. But also because he sees the way that your “boyfriend” takes care of you in the most subtle ways ー by virtue, it’s the act of noticing.
Jeongguk walks you through the crowds of people with a guiding hand on your lower back. He fixes your hair when it falls loose in front of your face. He refills your cup with your favorite drink without ever having to ask. He can’t stop talking about how grateful he is to have a chance with you ー how you’re so beautiful and smart and the only thing he ever wants. There’s obviously love and intention in Jeongguk’s eyes whenever he looks at you. Anyone could see that. To be loved is to be known, and Jeongguk knows you like the back of his hand.
You can feel the pressure of having to prove your relationship when all of the girls gather around, asking invasive questions. How did you convince y/n to go out with you? We almost lost hope for the poor girl. Have you all hung out as a family yet? What does Minji think of your relationship?
For some reason, it feels like you’re back in high school, listening to locker room gossip. It feels as if they’re judging you. They’re laughing at you. But time and time again, Jeongguk defends you and your honor. Not because you need his help, but because you love the safety and security of his words.
“I don’t appreciate you being passive aggressive. Because to me, y/n is the most precious person in the world. If you have something you want to say, then just say it to my face.” He bites back without ever breaking eye contact. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. It’s equal parts intimidating and the most attractive thing you have ever seen.
All the girls seem to agree when they swallow a trace of spit and nod their heads in obedience. “Sorry, we just wanted to say that you’re both so lucky to find one another.” They drop the subject, but only for a little while.
Throughout the party, Jeongguk holds you close because he knows how nervous you were to come, and rightfully so. You told him how scared you were to introduce him to all of your friends (he doesn’t see why they deserve that title when they’re nothing but mean girls). Nevertheless, you’re frightened because your relationship with Jeongguk is sacred. Untainted. Unconventional, yes. But it’s protected because only you know about the depths of your bond. After tonight, everything will change. Having your “friends” witness your love so openly feels as if you have to give up another piece of yourself. After making this public knowledge, nothing could ever fully be yours.
But this moment right here is yours to keep, yours to hold, and yours to cherish. Jeon Jeongguk is in your arms, and all you can do is make it known that you are in love.
“Whatever they say, ignore them, okay? Just look at me.” His arm wraps around your waist, and you relax in his hold. The stars in his eyes keep you captivated, and everything else is long forgotten. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear, scared that if he were to go up one decibel, it would burst the little bubble that you’ve created for yourselves. Perhaps you would disappear if he says your name any louder, and he would wake up to realize that his dream girl is nothing but a figment of his imagination.
But there’s nothing about this relationship that’s fake. Your brother can see it all. Although you haven’t hung out with him in ages, he’s very intrigued with the man hanging off of your arm. “Jeongguk, when did you realize that y/n was the one?”
“Stop, we just started dating.” You smack the back of San’s head. But Jeongguk isn’t one to shy away from the question.
“Well, it’s a funny story. The first time I saw her, I thought I had to talk to her. A few months ago, I dropped my daughter off at the daycare. When I walked past the door, I tripped on my own two feet. I saw y/n reading a story at the front of the class. She was so elegant, graceful, and just so, so gorgeous. My first thought was that she is the most incredible person I’ve ever seen.” Jeongguk tells the story without ever taking his eyes off of you. It’s as if you’re the only person in the whole world. There’s a beaming smile stretched across his face. His dimples are carved into his cheeks.
“Minji, my daughter, she has a tendency to cry when I’m not there. So when she bursted into tears, y/n asked if she wanted to sit with her and help her read. She put my daughter on her lap, and instantly, Minny stopped crying.
“For weeks, I tried to work up the courage to approach her. I visited as much as I could. I borrowed more materials than I could even finish, and eventually, I had a pile of overdue books sitting in my apartment. When y/n wasn’t busy with the daycare, she worked at the front desk. I thought she might say something about my outstanding charges, but she never did. At that point, I wanted to talk to her so bad, but I was so foolish. I started bringing cups of coffee into the library, thinking that she would yell at me for breaking the rules.”
“Did it work? Why didn’t you just say something?” San wonders.
“I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t think she was interested. She barely looked at me. Never tried to initiate small talk,” Jeongguk shrugs.
Avoiding eye contact is exactly how you show interest in someone. Is there any other way to do it? You had been so nervous to even glance in his general direction! Men don’t ever give you affection, especially not men as gorgeous as Jeongguk. It just felt so wrong to even think about crushing on him.
“But one day, y/n approached me first by some miracle, and I was so shocked. I- I just thought she was an angel. My daughter was at her side. We talked. One thing led to another. The next thing I knew, I was stressing about what outfit to wear and buying flowers so I could pick her up for a coffee date. I don’t even know how to explain it. Everything just fell into place.”
You were convinced that Jeongguk had never noticed you before you approached him that fateful day in the non-fiction aisle. But it rings true that Minji had cried some months ago during reading time. You recall all of the details, albeit vaguely. Had Jeongguk been watching all this time? Did he really borrow an excessive amount of books and purposely buy illicit coffee just to get your attention?
There’s a soft smile that plays on your lips, and Jeongguk is certain that you’re a real life angel. “I hope you know that I waived your overdue fees every single time,” you confess.
…
At some point in the night, you and Jeongguk ended up separating in the most nightmarish of ways. Your coworkers had looped their arms around yours and pulled you away for some girl talk.
Meanwhile Jeongguk is at the other end of the hall, playing billiards with all of the other men. He socializes with them as if it’s effortless. He tells them jokes and makes them chuckle, but of course, his laugh is the one that stands out to you the most. He’s enchanting, and you are all but a moth drawn to a flame. He lights up every room he walks into, shining brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.
As you watch Jeongguk have his own fun, you check out of the conversation, barely listening to what Yumi has to say. You couldn’t quite relate to the stories that they’ve shared about their partners ー being engaged, moving in together, trying for children, having sex.
“y/n, how big is your boyfriend?”
You ponder the question. “Uhm, I don’t know his weight exactly…”
“No, no, sweetie, I mean how big is his dick?”
Your eyes widen in surprise as you shake your head. “We haven’t actually done anything yet. Our relationship is new, y’know. Also, I don’t think that’s any of your business-”
“You mean you haven’t even seen him naked? Surely you’ve touched him when you’ve made out, right?” Their eyes widen when you shake your head no, trying to sputter a retort.
“Even if you’re taking it slow, you must know what he likes in bed, right? Spitting? Choking? Spanking? A little bit of roleplay? Does he like to be called daddy?”
You, yourself, nearly choke on your own drink.
“Most couples get intimate because- I hate to break it to you-” Yumi leans closer to you until her voice is all but a whisper. “All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.”
You don’t know why you would believe Yumi’s words despite Jeongguk’s constant reassurance of how much you mean to him. She’s so fucking infuriating, but could she be right? Does Jeongguk see other women when you’re not around? Does he ever tell you that you’re pretty just for the performance of being a married couple? Has everything he said in the past few weeks been an act? Surely, you don’t know everything about this man, but would he ever lie to you? You bite the inside of your cheek as you anxiously pick on the skin around your nails, thinking about her advice.
Seemingly, Jeongguk doesn’t know what the conversation is about. But he doesn’t need to be familiar with the details to know that you’re growing anxious. He can see it from the way you fiddle with your hands. From the way you furrow your brows and chew on your lips. From down the hall, he can pick up on your breathing. He can practically hear the hurricane of thoughts swirling around your head.
Before you can drown in your thoughts, Jeongguk makes his way over to you, nursing a glass of champagne in his hand. “Hi, angel.” He whispers against your jaw. His cheeks are flushed pink as his head rests against the crook of your neck, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. “Do you want to get out of here? You can stay over at my place tonight if you want,” he offers.
“What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” You shift your gaze to the gash on his brow. Even when you don’t feel your best, you’re still concerned for those around you. That’s just the person you are. You’re so used to giving yourself away.
“Kind of,” he says. But it hurts more knowing that you’re not okay.
You ruffle your hands through his hair, trying to soothe his ache. “Do you want your painkillers?”
“Just want you.” His deep voice rumbles against your collarbone as he presses a shy kiss to your shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.” He gently grabs your hand in his and leads you out the front door. You don’t even have a chance to say goodbye to all the guests. Quite frankly, you don’t even care.
The moment you return to Jeongguk’s apartment, you dart to the medicine cabinet, filling a glass of water and instructing him to swallow the morphine pill. To soothe the pain, you apply some ointment onto his injury and gently blow on his gash, hoping that it doesn’t leave a scar to mar his beautiful face. But you avoid eye contact with him as much as you can. All while Jeongguk stares at your pretty lips and your glittery eyes. You look so cute when you’re concerned. A pout rests on your face, and he wants nothing more than to kiss it better.
But then you bid him goodnight, rushing into the guest room, pacing back and forth behind closed doors.
Jeongguk sits in the living room, stunned, wondering if he’s done something wrong. Whether his breath smells, or maybe he’s come on too strong. Is it obvious how much he cares for you? Yet a part of him wants you to know, even if you don’t reciprocate. To love you so freely is enough for him.
For you, the problem is not Jeongguk. It’s the fact that you can’t stop thinking about the conversation from earlier in the night. Yumi’s voice echoes through your thoughts. All men have needs. If they aren’t met, then he might break up with you and look for satisfaction elsewhere.
A part of you needs Jeongguk to tell you that this isn’t true. Your heart and mind may not be able to rest otherwise. So for the sake of your fake relationship, you put on a brave face and patter down the hall to his room.
…
The soft knock on Jeongguk’s door draws his attention away from the vanity. As soon as he tells you to come in, you hesitantly enter his bedroom.
His back is turned as he faces the mirror, heedlessly applying his skincare. “What’s up? Do you need anything?” He spins around to meet you with curiosity written on his face.
You catch a glimpse of his exposed chest, and your cheeks heats up in recognition. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, seeing that he’s getting ready for bed. He removes his rings and the silver watch from his wrist.
“Sorry, I- I didn’t know you were indecent.” You turn your head away, avoiding his strong build ー the biceps that bulge beneath his shirt and the muscles that flex with every movement. Your hand shoots up to hide your face in embarrassment.
He finds it adorable how flustered you get upon seeing a little bit of skin. Still, he makes no effort to button up his shirt. Because that’s all that it is ー just skin.
You swallow the lump in your throat, and your eyes flicker to the floor as if the rug is the most interesting thing in the world. “Can we talk about something?”
“Talk?” He approaches the bed, patting the spot beside him. “Come here, what do you want to talk about?”
You perch yourself onto the mattress bouncing up and down from the weight of the springs. Jeongguk sidles closer to you. His knees knock against yours. He smells like jasmine and musk, and it’s divine.
“At the party, the girls were talking about relationships,” you begin.
He hums with a nod, attentive as ever. Jeongguk looks at you as if you’re the only person in the world, but you don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with anything else but the intensity of his eyes.
“What did they say?” He wonders, readjusting your necklace so the pendant sits pretty on your neck.
“Y’know.” You tug on your fingers, finding something to fiddle with. “The usual stuff.”
He reaches for your hands, instantly halting your movements. Soothing your nerves, he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He knows that you must have mustered a lot of courage to come over and bring this up. “Angel, you have to use your words if you want to tell me what’s on your mind.”
You grow bashful under his touch, but that’s exactly the problem. “They talked about stuff like this.” You squeeze his palms for emphasis. “Holding hands. Touching. Skinship.” You mumble the last part, too shy to say it out loud: “Kissing.” Turning your cheek towards him, you murmur an apology. “Sorry. You make me nervous.”
Jeongguk doesn’t fail to notice the way your tongue licks the plump of your lips or the way your throat constricts after swallowing a trace of spit. “Nervous? C’mere- look at me.”
His deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. It’s authoritative, and you can’t help but follow his orders.
“I’m not familiar with being this close to someone,” you motion at the lack of space between his body and yours. “I wouldn’t want you to be upset with me if I’m not very affectionate.”
“Angel, I’d never be upset with you. We can do whatever you want at your own pace.”
“Are you sure you’d never leave me if-”
Jeongguk stops your train of thought before allowing your mind to wander to a dark place. His voice hardens upon hearing such a suggestion. “I never want to even think about that possibility because I’m not letting you go. I’m yours no matter what. You’ll actually have to fight me if you want to push me away. Even then, I’d crawl right back to you.” He truly means every single word that he utters.
There’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “Sorry. Intimacy is really scary for me,” you confess, hesitating. Jeongguk gives you another moment to collect your thoughts. He’d give you as long as you need, even if it’s a lifetime and all the stars in the night sky have burnt out.
“But another reason I want to talk to you is because I’m concerned this won’t come across as a real marriage if we’re physically distant, y’know? The girls said that it’s normal for couples to be… intimate.”
Jeongguk doesn’t say anything, at least not immediately. He doesn’t react. His eyes are distracted by your mouth ー the way your gloss clings onto your lips and the way it moves so languidly with every word you articulate.
“Jeongguk- Love?”
The sound of his name never really meant much to him. After all, it’s just an alias. Yet nothing sets him aflame more than the claim that you have on him ー the way that your lips purse when you call him your love.
“I know this sounds silly-” you begin.
He shakes his head, brows furrowed, effectively wiping away all of your insecurities. “Never.”
A naive grin spreads across your face. How could you be so foolish to believe that Jeongguk would make you feel anything less than important? Time and time again, he makes you feel heard. He makes you feel seen.
“Go on,” he urges. “Tell me.”
“Well, I read an article about how looking into your partner’s eyes for a long period of time increases intimacy. It also builds trust and helps to recognize emotion.” It’s ironic how you explain all of this while avoiding his eyes. Instead, you keep them trained on the scar sitting pretty and kissable on his cheek.
A dimpled smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees. He reaches to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you think you might pass away. “But angel, you have to face me if we’re going to do this. I want you to be comfortable.”
“Right, yeah,” you mumble. “Of course.” Shuffling from the edge of the bed, you turn to face your husband. You tuck your feet beneath your butt and sit on your knees.
“Relax, okay? There’s no need to be nervous around me.” His voice is reassuring. It’s heartwarming.
You nod your head as you will yourself to meet his gaze. “I can do this. I can do this,” you think to yourself.
Jeongguk’s pupils glimmer in the lowlight, warm and comforting, and you wonder how anyone could be so handsome. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s difficult when he, himself, is so distracting. There’s a beauty mark on his cheek. His jaw. His nose. Beneath his lip. You could trace them all day and night, if only he’d let you.
Jeongguk’s deep voice cuts through the night. “Is there anything else that you want to try?”
“M- maybe we could hold hands?”
“We’ve held hands before.” He laces his fingers between yours so effortlessly, his hand engulfing.
Your breath hitches in your throat.
“Does it still make you nervous?” He wonders.
“A little bit,” you glance at how small your hand looks in his. “But I can get used to it.”
“Can I suggest something?”
You nod, agreeing. “Anything.”
He tilts his head to the side, raising a brow, unconvinced. “Anything? Are you sure?”
You nod with more confidence. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”
“Then can I hold you?”
You hesitate for a second, unsure of what that entails. A beat goes by when Jeongguk is prepared to tell you that you’re free to say no. But you wipe that thought away, giving him your full consent.
Not a second passes by before he wraps his tattooed arms around your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your thighs rest on either side of his hips, straddling him.
A squeak ー a fucking squeak. God, how much cuter can you get? ー slips past your lips. They’re swollen from how you nervously tug on the flesh, tethering it between your teeth.
“Does this feel better?” There’s a sense of longing that drips from Jeongguk’s honeyed voice.
“It’s… nice.” Your brain is on the verge of malfunctioning and shutting down upon feeling the heat of his skin against yours. “Better.” Your voice is breathy. It’s self preservation. You exhale deeply in an attempt to calm the flutter of your heart.
To keep yourself occupied, you trace your fingers across your bare thighs, unsure of what to do with them. Jeongguk had let go of your hands in favor of holding your hips. So you play with the hem of your dress that’s currently riding up your legs. Suddenly, you’re very aware of how little you’re wearing. How your skin is burning beneath his fingertips.
Jeongguk’s body is radiating, and you can feel the heat between your legs grow, the dampness in your underwear spreading.
“You can touch me if you want,” he offers.
You’re not as confident as Jeongguk, but oh, how you wish you were.
“Do you want to?” He senses your hesitation, yet you nod your head, affirming.
“I do,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I want to touch you- feel you.”
Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, bringing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. They’re muscular beneath your touch. You curse yourself for letting your mind wander and for letting your panties soak with arousal ー neither of which you can control.
Somehow, you resist the urge to look down at his physique. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to the elbows, revealing his strong forearms, adorned by the dark tattoos that coil up his muscles. Your gaze darts across his features, struggling to focus on the starlight in his eyes. You switch between the edge of his jaw, the dip of his neck, and the plump of his lips.
“My eyes are up here, angel.” The corner of his mouth draws into a smile ー so bright and devastatingly beautiful. He hooks a gentle hand beneath your chin, guiding you to meet his stare. “Tell me what you’re thinking about. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
Your voice is soft, just barely above a whisper. It’s nearly inaudible. “Thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.”
The innocence of your words makes Jeongguk blush. He’s never been the type to be so easily affected. After all, he’s the bold one in the relationship ー confident, decisive, dominant. But you make him weak in the knees.
“You don’t have to ask permission to kiss me.” Jeongguk inches closer, considerate hands squeezing around your waist. “You’re my wife.”
Why does the thought of belonging to Jeongguk make your heart stutter? You’re certain that this is nothing but pretend, yet the only thing that makes you believe this could be real is the soothing circles that Jeongguk draws onto your skin. He’s present. He’s willing. His lips are right there, right in front of you. You could take the leap of faith and close the distance, leaning forward to kiss him.
So you do.
When your lips meet, it’s as if the rest of the world has gone silent. Time has stopped, and nothing else matters but the two of you at this moment.
His lips are pillowy soft against yours. He tastes like champagne and mint. He’s gentle, only applying as much pressure as you do. You melt into his touch, feeling featherlight in his hold. His hands grip your waist so delicately, with love and intention, as if you are the most precious thing in his eyes.
You pull apart to catch your breath, allowing the air to fill your lungs, regretfully so. If you were to drown, you would want to drown in Jeon Jeongguk. Your eyes flutter open, but you can’t seem to look at anything but his cherry lips.
“Love…” The term of endearment leaves your lips in a pant, and he grows harder beneath you. “This is going to sound so embarrassing…” Your voice trails off as the heat engulfs your entire body. Your head lowers, feeling self-conscious of your actions.
Jeongguk nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses tender kisses on your collarbone. “What is it? You can tell me anything.”
Your fingernails dig into his strong shoulders, squeezing his taut muscles as you muster the courage to tell him the truth. “That was my first kiss.”
He peers up at you from beneath his long eyelashes. “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Jeongguk shakes his head, squeezing your waist with reassurance.
Your eyes are half lidded as you murmur a quiet confession, “I want to kiss you again.” Normally, you wouldn’t dare to be so bold, but you feel drunk on his taste.
“You can do whatever you want to me.” Jeongguk draws you closer, dragging your core onto the apex of his thighs, thick and sturdy. “I like anything that you like. Kissing you. Holding you. Just looking at you,” he shrugs. “And if it wasn’t obvious enough… I like you.”
Jeon Jeongguk makes you absolutely breathless. “Ar- are we still pretending?”
“Never.” Leaning forward, he brushes his mouth against yours. “I have never once pretended with you.”
You kiss him back with more fervor, desperate and wanting. You’re more confident now, fully knowing that Jeongguk wants this as much as you do.
“When you said I could do whatever…” You pull back, thinking about Jeongguk’s previous statement.
He nods his head with the most innocent beam on his face. “I mean it.”
God, you feel like such a pervert. You’ve shared your first kiss with him, something so sweet and innocent. Why couldn’t that be enough for you? You’re sitting on his lap, feeling the broad planes of his chest, and you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to do more. To feel more.
You’re ridden with guilt, drowning in your own arousal, but Jeongguk is so kind. He’s understanding. He’s staring at you as if you’re his whole world. He would never dare to objectify you because he’s a gentleman. But… What if you want him to?
“The girls at the party were also talking about…” Your words begin to trail.
“About what?” You subconsciously trace circles onto his shoulders, distracting yourself from the conversation, not knowing that Jeongguk’s eyes flutter close because he adores the drag of your nails and the subtle warmth of your fingertips.
“About… doing it.” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. It feels too inappropriate to say it out loud. Yet you don’t dare to mention how your panties are absolutely ruined.
“Angel, what did we talk about?” His lips press against your shoulder, at any inch of skin that he can reach. “You have to be more specific.”
Jeongguk has never once made you feel ashamed or embarrassed. He has never laughed at you or told you that you’re being silly. So why is it so difficult to tell him that you want him ー Need him?
You take the leap of faith because this is your partner ー in life, in death, and in crime. This is Jeongguk. Your one and only lover who never fails to remind you that you are the strongest woman in the world. He who delivers nutritious lunch boxes to you and tucks cute notes into the lid because he knows that they make you smile. Jeon Jeongguk who massages the knots out of your shoulders after a secret night of combat. He who gets pouty when you call him anything other than ‘love.’
There’s no need to hide anything from this man. He’s your home, just as you are his.
“They talked about sex… You know… making love. ” The crude word sounds so wrong leaving your lips. So out of place. It’s dirty, and it’s naughty. “They said all couples do it, but we’ve never…”
“Do you want to do it because you want to, or is it because your friends told you to?” Jeongguk searches your eyes for clarification. “Because if you feel pressured when you’re not ready-”
“No! I do!” You cling onto his shirt with more urgency. “I want to do it ー with you. I trust you.” You lean closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “You’re my husband.”
Jeongguk groans at the sound of your words. At the way your fingernails scratch down his chest. At the way you sit so pretty and perfect on top of his lap, pressing your weight into his erection.
He gulps as if this is the first time he’s ever been nervous in his life. “Why don’t you take off my shirt?”
“C- can I?” you stutter.
“Like I said, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re my wife, and I’m yours.” He presses his lips against your brow. “Yours to hold. To kiss. To love.” He kisses your nose. Your chin. Your jaw. He tucks your hair behind your ears and whispers. “I’m yours to make love to.”
With trembling fingers, you reach for the button that barely holds Jeongguk’s shirt together.
His hand engulfs yours. “Don’t forget to breathe, in and out, okay?” Jeongguk, patient as ever, waits for your respiration to steady. “You’re safe with me. If you want to stop, just say the word.”
With each button undone, his shirt falls apart, revealing Jeongguk’s toned abs. As glorious as he is, your eyes are drawn to the scar on the side of his stomach, barely covered by the fabric that hangs off his back. The scar is jagged, and the skin is raised, the tissue is puckered at the edges.
“Wha- what happened here?” Your fingertips reach down to trace over the scar, but before you make contact, you pull away.
“You can touch it-” Jeongguk reaffirms. “Wherever you want. I’m yours.”
Jeongguk’s breath hitches in his throat when your cold hands lightly graze the rough texture, feeling the ghost of his past. But he knows how you’ll respect his boundaries no matter what, and he relaxes, fully knowing that you’ll take care of him.
“I had surgery when I was younger.” Jeongguk lies. “They took out my appendix.”
Your brows furrow. There’s no reason not to believe him, but why is the scar so jagged and uneven? Certain parts are wider than others as if the surgeon had twisted a large blade into his abdomen, and not simply sliced to gain access to his organs.
As usual, Jeongguk can read the concern written on your face. “It’s okay, it didn’t hurt much.” The curve of his lips settle into a warm and reassuring smile. “I promise.”
Jeongguk doesn’t express any discomfort about his scar, yet you can’t help but wonder what kind of horrors he had to live through.
To ease your mind, Jeongguk pulls you into his body and presses his hands beneath your thighs.
A yelp escapes from your lips as he lifts you up. You’re chest to chest with him, legs wrapping around his waist. He presses your back down to the mattress, settling your head onto one of the pillows at the bedpost.
He hovers above you, a hair's breadth away.
“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. “You look so stunning.”
You grow shy with all the attention that Jeongguk feeds you. “Hi,” you whisper back. Your legs wrap tighter around his waist.
“Can I take this off?” Jeongguk glides a finger beneath the strap of your dress.
There’s a rush in your head, feeling dizzy upon nodding your head with so much vigor.
His lips pair with yours in a quick kiss before calling you a good girl. He shifts his weight off of you so that he can tug you into an upright position and peel the dress off.
Jeongguk’s eyes widen at your bare chest, having omitted a bra so as to not ruin the outfit. His throat goes dry, and he’s having trouble forming words in his head. You’ve never seen him so speechless.
Subconsciously, you raise your arms to cover your chest.
“No, no, no, don’t do that.” Jeongguk wraps his fingers around your wrists, pressing a smooch to your delicate skin. “You’re so pretty like this. Don’t ever hide from me, okay?”
His words make you shiver. Having someone dote on you as much as Jeongguk is something you’re not used to. But that’s exactly why you’re here, right? So you nod your head and let him pin your hands to the mattress before leading a trail of kisses down your body.
Curious fingers speak freely against your skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes note of every gasp, giggle, and moan that escapes your lips. He presses his swollen lips to your sensitive spots until you keen louder for him, desperately begging for more. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking on the bud until you whimper. He’s a drooling mess over your tits as he leaves a trail of saliva, marking your skin and claiming you as his.
Jeongguk furthers his descent down your tummy, placing sweet kisses against the waistband of your panties. He reaches down to feel the leather strap around your upper thigh. It’s the holster that you use to sheathe your knife, and thank God you disarmed before stepping into Jeongguk’s bedroom.
“I use it to hold my pepper spray,” you murmur a half-ass excuse. “Some of my clothes have shallow pockets.”
Jeongguk smiles against your skin as he ghosts his lips against your soft thighs. He doesn’t think much of it, but he does think it’s really hot. So he doesn’t bother to unstrap as he continues to worship your body.
What catches his attention is not the way you’ve soaked through your underwear, as arousing as it is. But rather, he’s intrigued by the faint mark on the outside of your thigh. It’s not a regular, old scar. To Jeongguk, it’s oddly familiar because it’s what appears to be an old bullet wound.
Jeongguk stutters in disbelief, eyes wide. “What’s this? W- were you sho-” He tries to mentally collect himself as he settles on a choice of words. “Were you hurt? Who hurt you?”
You look down, noticing the circular scar on your outer thigh before shaking it off. “It’s nothing. It was from an injection.”
“Are you sure? It looks li- It looked serious.” His voice trembles with concern, hands fisting at his sides.
You pull him up by the collar of his undone shirt, hanging off his broad shoulders. Your lips meet his in a delicate, comforting kiss. Jeongguk visibly relaxes in your hold.
“I’m fine, really. I just want you.” You claw his shoulders in an attempt to peel the rest of the fabric off.
Jeongguk sighs, trying to forget about what he had seen. But he’s certain that his mind will wander back to the scar at another point in time. He strips the shirt off his back, carelessly tossing the fabric onto the floor.
Jeon Jeongguk is mesmerizing. You’ve never seen the entirety of his sleeve, but there it is, in all its glory. There’s a faint beauty mark on his chest, one that you did not account for when tracing all of the scars and marks on his upper body.
“Tell me you want me,” his breath is hot and heavy against yours.
Subconsciously, you clench at the sound of his words. “Guk- I want you more than anything.” Your hands float down to the buckle of his jeans as you unclasp the button. “You’re wearing too much. Take it off.” The plea that falls from your lips is breathy and desperate.
“Fuck-” Jeongguk curses, trying to restrain himself.
Jeongguk has slept with plenty of women before, but never like this. He’s always had one night stands with an ulterior motive, whether it is for leverage or intel or for the sole purpose of converting an innocent woman into a whistleblower. He’s fucked with media journalists, cabinet members, and even the wives of politicians. He isn’t proud of it, but women, just like everyone else, are more likely to say things they don’t mean when their desires are fulfilled. They’re willing to trust him and spill their secrets when they’re lost in the throes of pleasure ー when he hands over his lust and his attention. It’s transactional.
Jeongguk has always thought that love is cheap. But not with you.
With you, Jeongguk has the innate need to take his time. He wants to show you what it means to make love.
He hooks his hand beneath your panties, pulling them down your legs. There’s a string of arousal that breaks when he tugs the fabric off. It’s absolutely soaked in your arousal. Jeongguk’s lips press against every inch of your skin, leaving no spot untouched.
You shudder when his hot breath meets your inner thighs, threatening to close them. He wraps his thick arms around your legs, digging his fingers into your hips, pinning you to the mattress.
He keeps his eyes trained on your face as you tremble beneath his touch. He kitten licks your clit, careful as to not overwhelm you. But you quickly melt into the pillows, gripping his hair between your fingers.
Jeongguk wants to commit this to memory. The way that you look so angelic in this light.
Quiet whimpers escape from your parted lips. “You don’t have to hold back,” he reminds you. “Be as loud as you want. Nobody’s home. We have all the time in the world, and I want you to feel good.”
He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking softly on the bundle of nerves until you’re writhing against his mouth. Soon enough, you grind your hips, practically riding his face like a needy slut, desperate and wanting.
The moans slip out of your mouth freely, and Jeongguk grows harder at how pretty you are, lost in pleasure. He begins to rut his hips against the mattress, seeking some kind of relief for his aching cock.
His tongue slips between your walls, licking up the arousal that seeps down your thighs. His chin is coated in your wetness, and he’s utterly obsessed with your taste.
Your nails dig into his hair, pulling on the roots. He elicits a moan against your core, and you’re muttering apologies, “sorry, ‘m sorry.” Yet you continue to grind your cunt against his tongue, proving that you’re not sorry at all.
Your grip loosens, but Jeongguk whines at the loss of tension. “Feels good, angel, don’t stop.”
He quickly grabs your hands and places them on the top of his head, encouraging you to tug as hard as you want. He’s obsessed with your taste, but he’s also addicted to the pain that you inflict on him.
He dips his tongue between your walls, reaching as far as he can go. He smiles against your core as if he’s the one enjoying himself ー and truly, he is. He can’t get enough of you. Jeongguk loves to bury his face into your sweet pussy, making out with your cunt. His chin is doused in your essence, and he wants more. He needs to see you dripping in cum so he can taste you straight from the source.
“Guk, it feels weird,” you choke on your words, pressing your hands against your tummy. The tears cascade down your cheeks as your high builds in the pit of your stomach.
“Shh, shh, angel,” he hushes before dropping a thick glob of spit onto your entrance. He can’t believe that you’ve never come in your life. Have you never played with your cute little cunt before?
Jeongguk laps your clit while he works a finger into you, gliding between your tight walls. He pushes another one in, watching you stretch around his digits. In the back of his mind, he wonders how you’ll be able to take his cock when you can hardly take his fingers. He curls them inside of you, slowly adding a third.
You will yourself to pick your head up, allowing your gaze to meet his. The sight before you is filthy beyond belief. You can’t believe that Jeongguk is making out with your naughty pussy, and you love it. His fingers are gliding inside of you, reaching places you’ve never reached before. He’s humping the mattress, trying to satiate his throbbing cock that’s leaking through his boxers.
“Guk- love, I-”
“Just let go. Come for me,” his husky voice vibrates against your cunt.
At the sound of his command, you unravel on his tongue, shuddering beneath his strong hold. Your cunt pulses as waves of pleasure rip through you. Soft moans flow through your parted lips, and it’s suddenly Jeongguk’s new favorite melody.
He watches you fall apart with hearts in his eyes. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you in place as he fucks you through your climax. You’ve never felt a sensation this strong before. It doesn’t even compare when you’re high on adrenaline.
Yet Jeongguk laps your pussy as if he’s a puppy, so eager to please you as he collects all of your cum on his tongue. He wants you as much as you’ll allow. Before the overstimulation sets in, you have to weakly tap his shoulder, pushing him away as your thighs close around his head.
He presses a smooch to your clit before finally pulling back. “How did that feel?”
“Never felt anything like that before,” you gasp, trying to catch your breath. “C- can you show me how to touch you too?” The innocent look in your eyes drives him absolutely mad. “Wanna make you feel good.” You palm him through his boxers, and he groans at your touch.
Fuck. “Tonight’s about you, angel.” Jeongguk curses at himself because you look so pretty batting your eyelashes at him. You’re practically begging to suck him off, and he can’t bring himself to say yes. Your hands dip beneath his underwear, gliding your hands up and down his throbbing cock.
Jeongguk thinks that he might be in heaven. “Aren’t you too tired? I’ve already made you come once.”
But you shake your head, “I want more, please? I can take it. Will you please give it to me?”
“I- I don’t have a condom,” he confesses.
“Don’t care, I need you.” Your hands roam across the planes of his chest before settling on the back of his neck. You pull him closer until your lips brush against his. “Need you so bad…” You subconsciously roll your hips, grinding your bare cunt against his thigh, pleading ー begging for him to sink his cock inside of you to relieve the ache. “It hurts,” you murmur.
What else is Jeongguk supposed to do when his baby is aching, begging and pleading for his help? So he pulls his cock out of his boxers, tossing the offensive material out of the way. Your mouth waters as your eyes meet his length.
“It’s not gonna fit,” you shake your head. Surely, he could split you open with his sheer girth. “You’re too big.”
Jeongguk wraps his hand around his length, jerking himself off before pressing the length of his thick cock onto your stomach, measuring how deep he could possibly go. The pretty tip rests against your belly button. Jeon Jeongguk could actually break you, and you would let him.
“Are you sure you want to do this? We can stop-”
You shake your head with desperate vigor, and your imploring hands reach for his broad shoulders. “Just- just go slow, okay?”
Jeongguk pairs his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He releases a thick glob of spit onto your cunt before rubbing the tip of his cock against your core, spreading the sloppy mess across your mound. He drags his tip against your lips before slowly pushing into your soaked cunt.
You gasp upon feeling the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut.
Jeongguk nibbles the column of your neck, whispering quiet praises against your skin to distract you from the discomfort. He looks down to see barely half of his length tucked inside of you, yet your walls are stretched to accommodate him. At the pit of your stomach, there’s a bulge where the tip of his cock prods against your cunt. It protrudes against your tummy, leaving an indentation. He can quite literally watch his dick plow into you.
“Angel, look at how well you take me,” he groans.
You will yourself to open your eyes, seeing how he stuffs you to the brim. The visual is so filthy.
“God, I’ve been dreaming of this.” Jeongguk drops another glob of spit where his length meets your cunt, allowing the glide to be more effortless. The way that your pretty pussy struggles to make room for him is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. His eyes roll back as he squeezes your waist, trying to regain an ounce of composure.
“You’ve been thinking about this? About us?” You clench upon hearing his deepest desires.
He curses under his breath, not knowing how much longer he’d last if you’re already this tight wrapped around his cock. “You have no idea-” When he rests his head against your shoulder, panting, another inch sinks inside of you. “Sorry, ‘m sorry. You just feel so fucking good.”
His rough hands wander across your body, mapping every inch of your skin, committing it to memory. Jeongguk taps his fingers against your lips as he requests you to ‘open up.’ As obedient as you are, you part your lips, allowing him to slip his digits inside.
“Suck on my fingers,” he coos as he pushes himself further into your sweet pussy. “That’s my good girl.” He pulls his calloused fingers out of your mouth, and they find home onto your clit as he rubs figure eights onto your bundle of nerves. It serves as a distraction from the slight sting of resistance where his cock stretches your walls.
But for Jeongguk, this feels like heaven. He resists the urge to sheathe himself into your virgin cunt, down to the hilt. “Can’t believe that I get to see you like this.”
Jeongguk seriously can’t believe how fortunate he is that he’s your first. Nobody has ever touched you the way that Jeongguk does. Nobody will ever fuck you or make you come the way that he will. And certainly, nobody will ever get to see you act like a desperate little slut. You belong to Jeongguk just as he belongs to you. And this is the privilege he gets when you’re his wife.
You watch his face twist in concentration as he works himself into you. His biceps bulge, and his skin dimples beneath the pressure of your fingers when you squeeze his arm. They feel so rock solid beneath your touch. So strong and so, so reliable like the Jeongguk you know and love. You whimper simply because he’s hot, and you could never resist him.
“S- something wrong?” He stills his hips inside of you, and his cock pulses.
“N- no,” you whine, shaking your head. “Just wanna hold your hand.” You scratch down his biceps as you paw at his chest. Even when he’s buried inside of you, it’s still not enough. You need him, and you need all of him.
He grabs both of your hands, softly squeezing them as he pins them on either side of your head. Jeongguk cages you against the mattress as he presses his body weight against yours, plunging his cock deeper and deeper between your walls, inch by inch.
Your chest heaves when his hips press against yours, completely buried inside of you, and a silent cry slips past your lips. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes.
“Just breathe for me, angel, okay? Relax, ease up for me. I know it’s uncomfortable now, but you’ll feel so good, I swear.”
You nod your head, and you can’t help but cry. You just feel so full. Two twin tears trail down your cheeks, and Jeongguk is quick to kiss them away.
He soothes his thumb over the back of your hand as he praises you. “You’re doing so well for me. Such a good girl. You can take it, right? You can take it all for me.”
You nod your head, letting the tears fall down like summer rain. “I can take it, I swear-” You sound so choked up, and it’s probably due to the fact that Jeongguk is so fucking deep, you can practically feel him in your throat.
“Move, please, I need you so bad.” The broken sob rips out of your throat as you cry in desperation.
He pulls out with a shallow thrust, wanting to be as close to you as possible. Looking down, he can see where his cock fucks into you, where there’s a bulge that shadows every single one of his thrusts. He takes your hand down to rub over the protrusion.
“Can you feel me? Right here?” He quickly slides out of you before pressing his hips flush against yours in one swift motion.
A deep groan rumbles through his chest, sending a deep vibration through your body. His breath is hot against your lips, and you can actually feel him in your tummy. You can feel him everywhere.
“How’s it, angel?”
“Feels full-” you manage to choke the words out of your mouth.
“Too much?” Jeongguk asks. His breath is shaky as he plows his hips against yours. His cock twitches inside of you, and he really doesn’t want to pull out. But if you had asked, he wouldn’t hesitate to do so.
Thank God for your insatiability because you shake your head as you bring your intertwined hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Feels good- keep going, please,” you beg.
“See? I knew you could take it like a good girl.”
Soon enough, the discomfort subsides, and all you can feel is pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Jeongguk fucks into you until he bottoms out, prodding at the spot that has you seeing stars. Your eyes begin to cross, obsessed with the way he fills you up, turning you into a stuttering mess.
“Oh my god, feels s’ good, Guk- Don’t stop,” you cry, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist to keep him close.
Your mouth falls open and drool begins to slip from the corner of your lips. Jeongguk wedges his tongue into your mouth, swirling your spit and saliva together into one hungry mess.
He shifts his attention to your sensitive neck as he sucks on the column of your throat. A mark begins to bloom above your collarbone. If anyone were to doubt your marriage and the fact that you belonged to Jeongguk, there would be no reason to do so now.
The only thing you can focus on is the way that Jeongguk pokes your cervix, and you want nothing more but for him to flood your womb. Your heavy lidded eyes fall shut, your head lolls, and your cheek rests against the pillow.
But Jeongguk refuses to let you look away. His hand hooks around your jaw, and his fingers dig into your cheek. “Look at me,” he demands. “Want to see you when you come.” He lifts your face off the pillow and presses his lips against yours.
Jeongguk gives deep and pointed thrusts into your cunt. He grips your hands so tightly, but you welcome the embrace. His hips snap against yours, rutting into your battered hole as you desperately chase your high.
“‘m sorry, princess, am I too rough?” He mouths against your lips. “Just f- feels so good around me. So tight n’ warm. You’re s’ perfect.”
You shake your head in desperation. “N- no, I love it-” You love him. “I’m close,” you cry, overwhelmed with emotions.
“Come for me, angel,” he groans into your ear, pressing kisses against your nose, your cheek, your lips. He squeezes your hands, never letting you go.
He pounds into you once, twice, three-four times, bullying his cock into you, and you come undone with the rough snap of his hips. You tremble in his arms, feeling this orgasm tenfold compared to the last. Cum begins to seep out of your cunt, drenching Jeongguk’s cock until there’s a ring of cream at the base of his length.
You tight little cunt clenches around him as if you never want him to leave. He finds it hard to breathe when you look so beautiful, so pretty, and just so cute caged beneath him. As much as he wants to come inside of you and stuff you full, Jeongguk is quick to pull out when he feels his climax approach. He glides his cock against your cunt, rutting against your lips. He paints your stomach with ribbons of white cum, groaning at the lewdness of it all.
Thoughts of Jeongguk breeding your cunt flashes through your mind ー having him flood you with cum round after round until you can have a happy little family of four.
Obscene images of you doing this again and again in different positions send your mind racing. You want him to bury himself to the hilt with your knees pinned against your chest. If only he could flood your womb as he holds you by the back of your thighs in a mating press. Maybe you can come when you’re on all fours, on your hands and knees. Or you could take him down your throat as deep as you can go, choking and gagging on his length with saliva dribbling out of your lips. Although you’re certain that you could barely take half of him considering his size and your inexperience. But Jeongguk can teach you, and you can practice night after night until he absolutely ruins you.
“So much cum,” you murmur, admiring the liquid that rests on your tummy. You swipe your fingers across your stomach before sticking them in your mouth. Jeongguk’s cock twitches at the sight of you so desperate for a taste.
He presses a kiss to your forehead, “How was it?”
“Can we do it again?” Your eyes glimmer with wishful thinking. It’s safe to say that you had the best night of your life.
Jeongguk sputters a laugh, shaking his head. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He carries you to the bathroom, making sure you use the toilet to prevent UTIs. Meanwhile, he runs a bath for you where he lathers lavender shampoo in your hair and rubs the knots from your sore shoulders, down to your hips and legs. Between soft giggles and splashes of water, you share sweet kisses and loving stares. Before your fingers can prune, Jeongguk lifts you out of the tub and dries you off with a warm towel.
The two of you tangle beneath the sheets. But before you fall asleep to the sound of one another’s heartbeat, you ask Jeongguk the question that’s been on your mind.
“I was just wondering… Do you like to be called daddy?”
His lips meet your forehead before tucking you closer to his chest. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
Jeongguk, in fact, does like to be called daddy among a plethora of other vulgar words. This vital piece of information is not necessary for the Hwa Yang interview, but you tuck that specific fact into the recesses of your brain for future reference.
Because the truth is, you don’t have enough time to memorize Jeongguk’s life story. You can save that for another day. The Hwa Yang interview is in less than a week, and you have to save all of your brain space for relevant ー appropriate information. Such as the values of your family and the importance of education in your lives.
Thankfully, as Jeongguk’s informant, Seokjin managed to snag sample questions that the interviewers are likely to ask: What type of person do you want your child to grow up to be? What is your child’s school experience like thus far? What are some habits you practice to help your child acclimate to the academic rigor of this school?
So Jeongguk, Minji, and you work tirelessly to come up with the perfect answers that give the impression that you are a family exuding elegance. In the eyes of the admissions director, it basically means that you have to rival the royal family.
Minji should have interests beyond her plushies and her manhwas, something along the lines of tennis, horseback riding, or crossword puzzles. She has to continue with her studies ー global history, foreign affairs, music theory, and yes, even her sworn enemy, mathematics. At the mere age of five, she should obtain fluency in a second language (which is apparently really impressive if you’re the royal heir to the British empire).
All of this preparation proves to be handy because at the academy, the board of interviewers ask about Minji’s interests and her hobbies. They want to know what type of learner she is and how she can contribute to the fast paced learning environment.
Although Minji is exceptional as she is, you can’t help but wonder why a child has to be a prodigy to be deemed as someone worthy of a good education. What’s wrong with simply existing? What’s wrong with being average? Because if the price of being average is being a decent human being, you would rather take your chances at a different school.
The sound of the headmaster’s voice breaks you out of your reverie. “I want to ask Minji what a typical day in the household looks like.”
She straightens her posture upon hearing her name. “I start the day when eomma wakes me up and helps me get ready for kindergarten. She double checks to make sure my homework and my school supplies are in my bag. She also packs extra clothes for me just in case. Appa makes breakfast in the kitchen, and when we finish eating, they walk me to school-”
The headmaster crinkles his brows. A look of confusion crosses his features. “Does your father always cook for the family?”
“Yes, appa usually cooks because eomma works really hard. Sometimes, she comes home with aches and pains because of all the energy she uses.” Minji shifts her gaze to her father, trying to gauge whether her answer is acceptable. Meanwhile, your eyes are filled with concern, worried she’ll somehow expose your criminal history. “But eomma always helps when she can. She goes to the market, and she does the laundry. She also makes tea for appa and hot chocolate for me. She helps me with my homework even if I don’t like fractions.” Minji says the last part in a hushed whisper.
“Really? Is your mother someone you aspire to be? Despite your father being the one to prepare your meals? It’s rather untraditional.”
“I don’t believe that question is pertinent to the interview. It’s quite leading,” Jeongguk states. His voice doesn’t falter, but there’s animosity in every breath that he takes. “I can assure you that my wife is a wonderful mother and role model to our daughter. Now may we please refocus our attention on Minji and her academics?” Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, and he is seething. He balls his hands into fists, resisting the urge to throw a right hook at the man across the table.
Instinctually, your fingers inch across the settee, reaching for Jeongguk’s hand in order to soothe his nerves. His shoulders relax upon feeling the heat of your skin as if to quietly remind him that everything is okay.
“Of course, I apologize.” The headmaster says diplomatically before jotting down a few words into his notebook. He raises his nose in the air as if he’s on some high horse.
The interview persists until the end of the hour, and Jeongguk remains at the edge of his seat. He holds his hand in yours to keep his composure intact. Thankfully, the dean of admissions and the executive advisor have more tasteful questions to ask.
However, it doesn’t last long. The headmaster intercepts once again. “Mrs. Jeon, I noticed that your documents indicate you are Minji’s stepmother, correct? Do you ever feel some kind of disconnect considering that you are not her biological mother?”
You’re taken aback by this impromptu question. You didn’t prepare an answer for this, although your natural response would be to wrap your hands around this man’s bare neck, wringing it dry. Yet you remain composed for the sake of Jeongguk and Minji. You can feel Jeongguk hold your hand tighter in his. But you pat his wrist, serving as both a warning and a comforting acknowledgement.
“I love Minji as a daughter, just as any other mother. To me, it doesn’t matter if she’s not my blood relative. We’ve grown really close ever since we’ve met. I admit that I have never been a mom myself, and I’m faced with a new learning curve every single day. But isn’t that what motherhood is? It’s nothing I’m not used to. Growing up, I raised my younger brother. At work, I take care of children from all different backgrounds. Surely, I make mistakes, but I think every parent leaves a mark on their child no matter what they do. Sometimes it’s a stain. Other times it’s a break, a bend, or a crack. Other parents can splinter their kids, but I hope that I never get to that point. I’m not perfect, but I’m constantly trying to be better. I love Minji more than anything.”
“So you never feel any sense of inadequacy or resentment?” The headmaster has the audacity to question your parenting skills.
Jeongguk cannot stand to hear the headmaster criticize you anymore. In a blink of an eye, he slams his fist against the coffee table. The wood splits in half beneath the brute force of his hand, and you’re quite impressed by the display of action.
“This is wildly inappropriate for an interview. This entire time, you’ve done nothing but berate my wife because we do not have a conventional family. We’re not wealthy people. We work hard for what we do. We take care of one another in a way that only we know and understand. If you can’t accept that, then maybe this is not the school that we want our child to be enrolled in.” Jeongguk’s chest heaves as he says his peace.
He doesn’t even take another moment to listen to the headmaster. There’s nothing he could say that could warrant forgiveness. So Jeongguk picks up his daughter, and he grabs your hand before storming out of the interview room.
Jeongguk is going to have a difficult time explaining to his boss why he’s failed his mission.
“I’m sorry I messed up Minji’s chance of going to Hwa Yang.” You tug at the sleeves of your dress as you stare at the floor.
Back at Jeongguk’s apartment, you sink into the couch, allowing the weight of the situation to finally settle.
Jeongguk rests his hand on your shoulders, turning you so that you can meet his gaze. “You didn’t mess up anything.” His eyes are filled with warmth, but you feel as if you don’t deserve it.
“We worked so hard for this, and it was all for nothing.”
There’s still residual rage that flows through his veins. “Nothing? Don’t say that. Don’t you know that I lo-”
Your heart lurches out of your chest as you stare at him in awe. He loves you?
Jeongguk’s hands shift to hold your cheeks, running his calloused thumb against the edge of your jaw. He sighs, trying to collect his thoughts. “We have each other, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day, okay? We couldn’t anticipate that they’d be so cruel. I would defend you over anything in this world. So don’t you dare say that this was all for nothing.”
He pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head beneath his chin. You can hear the sound of his heart beat, beating only for you. It’s distracting enough for you to miss his whispered declaration: “I’m seriously gonna marry you someday.”
Minji climbs onto the couch, wedging herself between her parents. “If I don’t get accepted, I don’t have to go to school, right?”
The two of you peel away from the embrace, glaring at Minji, shaking your heads. “No, you have to go,” you simultaneously declare with stern conviction.
Minji huffs a sigh, looking downcast. But when her stomach grumbles, you effectively put an end to your pity party. You and Jeongguk drop everything, scurrying into the kitchen to prepare dinner for your precious daughter. She worked hard, and she did her very best. You all did.
…
Tucked away into the busy streets of Seoul, there’s a tiny little apartment on the second story filled with music and laughter.
While the water boils for the buckwheat noodles, Jeongguk watches over his precious family, reading the instructions for the sauce. All you need is a mixture of perilla oil, cham sauce, buldak sauce, buldak mayo, egg yolk, and a generous amount of furikake. But when you and Minji measure out everything to perfection, you cheer for one another as if you’ve made a meal worthy of praise from the world renown Gordon Ramsey.
When the noodles are ready, you all gather around the table and laugh to your heart's content. You fill your stomachs with starch, a heavy amount of spice, and plenty of love. You dote on one another, too distracted with the loving family you’ve created to notice anything outside of your little bubble.
This moment is yours, and yours alone. This is your happy place, and nobody can take it away from you. Not even the sound of the answering machine, echoing from the quaint living room.
“Due to your family’s impressive display of integrity at the institution’s interview, I would like to extend an offer to enroll Jeon Minji into the prestigious Hwa Yang Academy. Congratulations, and we hope to hear from you soon.”
#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts smut#bts angst#bts fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts scenario#bts imagine#bts x reader#bts fan fic#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts fan fiction
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What about helping Ghost wash his hair? Like him being so vulnerable to let you see him like that, ha hang on my chest hurts thinking about it
Soft Moments: Ghost Edition (GN!Reader)
ghost masterlist
my fourth installment of the soft moments miniseries!! this might be the last one, or i might do one more for one of the girls <3 and ghost is blonde in this because i’ll die on the hill of reboot!ghost w/ brown eyes + blonde hair, and 09!ghost w/ blue eyes and brown hair!!!
consider supporting me on ko-fi? trying to pay for college, no pressure!!
[WARNINGS: Slight allusion to angst, 100% fluff!]
Simon had a hard time being, well.. Simon. Off of the field, when he’s on leave, he struggles deeply with the change in routine. He struggles with the vulnerability, and you would think when he’s on the field, he would have a hard time putting up the Ghost persona—he doesn’t, because it’s become his second skin. It took him a very long time for him to be comfortable without his mask for long periods of time. He pushed Simon down inside of him a lot, for a very long time—Simon and Ghost were the same, but with you? Simon has come back to him. Obviously, Simon and Ghost are the same person, but his military mentality slips away from him just long enough to show Simon, disregarding his engrained military habits. So, when Simon has you sitting on the edge of the tub, his tired eyes looking back at you, face bare—you realize how much trust he has in you. You have the shower nozzle in your hand, spraying warm water, testing the temperature with your hand.
“Tilt your head back.” You murmur, and he quietly complies. He tilts his head far back for you, and he closes his eyes. It’s funny to see such a big, muscular man sitting in a tub with his knees to his chest, but you love the sight. How relaxed his shoulders are, how he trusts you enough to close his eyes without the mask on—you gently spray the water through his short, blonde hair, the warmth of the water traveling down his scalp and traveling down his back before dripping down into the tub. He lets out a muffled, quiet groan as you let the water run down his scalp, and you cup your other hand to avoid any stray water droplets from going into his eyes. You shut the water off, allowing the shower nozzle to hang beside his head. “I’m grabbing the shampoo, alright?” You say softly as to not to disturb the peace that has settled across you two. He nods, and Simon does not open his eyes. He appreciates you verbalizing your actions—he’s done a lot with trying to trust you with his eyes closed, and you being so willing to verbalize what you’re doing means a lot to him, even if he doesn’t know how to say him.
You open the shampoo bottle and you squeeze it into your palm, until you close the bottle with one hand by pressing the lid against your palm and pressing down, the bottle closing with a click. You set it aside, and you rub the shampoo into both of your hands before you lean down and your fingers run through his scalp and his hair, apply slight pressure to scrub. You watch the tension in his eyebrows melt away, and you can’t help but take this chance to admire his face while his eyes are closed. You thoroughly scrub his scalp and his hair, making sure every inch is lathered in soap. “You’re staring again.” Simon rasps without opening his eyes, you smile. You don’t respond with words—you simply lean down and press a quick and soft kiss to his cheekbone, and you swear his upper lip twitches, almost into a smile for a second. “I’m going to wash the shampoo out now, Simon.”
You wash the shampoo out just like you said you would, making sure none is left. You keep the water a comfortable, warm temperature for him. You let him know you’re going to apply the conditioner now, and when you turn back to him, his eyes are open. You pause for a moment as you make eye contact, wondering if you did something to startle him—but he’s staring at you with such a.. soft look. A vulnerable one. He motions for you to continue and you obey, lathering your hands in the conditioner. He hums when your fingers touch his scalp, reaching up and grabbing a wrist of yours, and his thumb strokes the inside skin of your wrist. You smile and nod, because you know he’s thanking you—for washing his hair, for accepting all of him.
You wouldn’t have him any other way.
#call of duty#call of duty mwii#cod mw2#cod#mw2022#mw2 2022#modern warfare ii#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x gn reader#ghost x gn!reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x gn!reader#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#cod mwii#mwii#cod mw#mw2 ghost#mw2#call of duty mw2#cod ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost
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⌗︙・what kind of pornstars they are ⸜⸜・
✿ gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento
gojo
he's the popular one. he got into the business when he found out that he stands no chance of getting into university. his old videos are shit and he laughs at them but his newest stuff has hundreds of views. he is pretty popular not even for his big dick but also for his pretty face. the camera sometimes focuses only on his pretty face. he likes what he's doing and he has high sex drive. gojo doesn't like taking viagra and he's at the stage of his career where he can turn down shootings if he doesn't feel like it. he usually shoots blow jobs or doggy. he rarely does missionary because it's just not what his porn persona is about.
geto
he has an account with about 50k followers but all of his videos are over 100k. he doesn't show his face in any of his videos because he mostly does nsfw audios. he loves dirty talking and when he found out he can make a living out of it, he took the chance. sometimes he does videos where he jerks off while dirty talking. people in comments always compliment his hands when he does that. although he doesn't do them very often for public because it feels like it's too private and intimate but he makes them for private subscribers. the content he makes for his subscribers is totally different. he does a lots of humping videos, whether it's him humping the bed and fucking himself with a fake pussy. but he doesn't do videos with another pornstars.
nanami
his account is rather small but he has a great community that he interacts with. he makes his videos with his girlfriend. his whole account is dedicated to soft love making and fluffy stuff in general. he loves to show off how much he loves his girlfriend by pleasuring her as much as he can. he gets a lot of compliments from people who struggle with intimate life and people use his videos as tutorials. talking about tutorials, he also makes them. a video called "how to orally pleasure a woman." blew up and it has over 500k views. sometimes he even makes these porn vlogs for his subscribers. he's not afraid to show his face because his girlfriends face is also seen. a lot of people like him because they see him as a ideal man.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#geto suguru x y/n#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x y/n
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king!ghost x reader -- names
i'm actually pretty proud of this.
It’s late in the morning, the day after your wedding.
“How did you sleep last night, Ghost?” you ask quietly, both of you sitting together at the breakfast table.
His head shoots up. Until now, you had exclusively addressed him as “your majesty.” He hates the way the name “Ghost” slips from your lips, a name associated with violence, bloodshed, and death – a stark mismatch for the softness of your voice.
He recognizes the weight of his own choices and the persona he wears, a mantle that has garnered him a reputation both feared and respected. And yet, hearing it from you, spoken with a blend of familiarity and concern, stirs a strange vulnerability he's unaccustomed to.
A fleeting vulnerability passes through his eyes before being replaced by a mask of practiced stoicism. He ponders the paradox of his identity, the dichotomy between the name that echoes with shadows of his deeds and the person he aspires to be in your presence. The furrow on his brow speaks volumes of the internal struggle, the desire for understanding conflicting with the self-imposed isolation he's maintained for years.
“Fuckin’ hell, don’t call me that.”
“What do you mean? That’s your name—”
“It’s not my name.”
You pause for a moment.
“Okay then…” you clasp your hands together, pushing yourself up from your seat. You start to make your way towards the door when his voice rings out into the silence.
“It’s Simon.”
You spin around. Simon, not Ghost, a name that cuts through the layers of notoriety, revealing a part of him few have seen. The name holds a vulnerability that carries with it a promise of authenticity and connection beyond what you two have had together. He watches you, unsure of how you'll respond, the lines of his face softening slightly as he waits for your reaction. He stands from his seat, making his way towards you. The clash between the formidable reputation he's built and the genuine person he wants to reveal to you lies bare before you.
You take a step closer, and your voice carries a warmth laced with understanding.
“Simon,” you say softly, testing the syllables as if acknowledging a secret shared. In your eyes, there's a spark of acceptance, a recognition of the trust he's extended.
His heart jumps at the way his name, Simon, effortlessly rolls off your tongue, silk smooth.
Simon meets your gaze, a flicker of hope mingling with the residual shadow of uncertainty. It's a small step, yet one that signifies the possibility of change, of a connection that transcends the boundaries of titles and facades. As he stands there in the dimly lit breakfast room, he's aware that there’s no turning back now. He wants you to see his true self, he just doesn’t know where to begin.
“Simon.” You blink.
“...Yes?”
“Hm. It suits you.” You pat his chest with a gentle touch, give him the smallest of smiles, and turn to freshen up for the day.
He stands there, mouth agape, a furious blush creeping up his face.
Fuck. He’s screwed.
- - - - -
(masterlist)
#the balaclava is on! (i can't respond to comments)#woooow#he wanted to fuck you then and there#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon “ghost” riley x reader#simon “ghost” riley x you#hyperactivelyme
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The Adoptive Son. Part 4
Dick struts into Crowne Co. main office like he owns the place. He has shaped his civilian persona to be a watered-down version of Brucie Wayne, so he winked at the receptionist and offered a kind smile to the employees wandering around.
The receptionist, a lovely man named Ace, waves him to the elevator without pause, pressing the button and allowing Dick to go to Crowne's office. Danny Crowne's main office was its own floor complete with five corner desks, a joint conference office, three stylish comfortable couches, and lots of open space filled with potted plants.
Only someone with the highest clearance levels was allowed in there. Dick had been made to wait in the lobby by Ace., The first few times, he came to visit Crowne. Thankfully, his presence is so commonplace now that he was allowed in without signing in.
The elevator's door close, blocking out all noise but the soft, classical music Crowne was rather fond up. His fake boyfriend seemed to swing from one music genre to the next with little sense. He could listen to an instrumental waltz, switch to punk rock, fall into the country, and finally go to pop within an hour. Dick can tell what kind of day Crowne is having based on the elevator music he has playing.
Since it's Mozart No. 13, Crowne is likely dealing with a stressful day. Likely trying to clean up a mistake made by an employee.
It was a good thing on the one hand- Crowne would be too overwhelmed to keep a proper eye on him. But it made Dick worry against his will. Crowne tended to work himself into a frenzy and often forgo his well-being if it were not for Tim or Dick telling him to rest.
You don't have time to worry about the trafficker. Dick tells himself as the elevator rises up to the top floor. You have a mission to complete.
He's carrying a take-out order to surprise Crowne with lunch. That's his cover store, at least; if things go according to the schedule they managed to hack into, his fake boyfriend will be called away for a meeting.
Dick will claim that it's fine. He will spend ten minutes reading a book he's left in Crowne's office and "fall asleep".
During that time, Bruce will hake into the cameras in Crowne's office and play a loop of him napping on a couch. In reality, Dick will be going through the office to find any kind of evidence. It's been almost five months since he took on this assignment, and he barely has anything to show. Bruce was becoming impatient.
Thankfully, little Damian kept most of Bruce's attention. The little eight-year-old had been the surprise the three main Justice Leaguers had found at Nanda Parbat. All those years of Dick complaining about Talia al Ghul being evil were true.
She had done something terrible to Bruce without his consent, and Damian al Ghul had been the result.
Then, Talia planned to raise her son as the next heir for her father's league until Bruce convinced her that Damian deserved better. Now Damian was at the manor, slowly unlearning all the terrible habits installed into him from birth.
He had attempted to fight Jason for his second son position, but Bruce had put a stop to it by claiming Jason was a new recruit, and that must have meant something to Damian because the kid backed off.
Now, Damian stuck to Jason's side like a small shadow, watching and learning everything he could. He seemed to adore Jason and looked up to him like the other boy was his idol.
Jason was over the moon about having a baby brother, deciding he wanted to teach Damian proper English- the young child had been learning but struggled a bit- and read him a bedtime story every night.
Dick wished he could claim the same regarding his younger brothers. But sadly, he and Jason did not have the best relationship due to Dick's horrible temper. This, in turn, made little Damian weary of him, keeping a safe distance whenever Dick came over to report on his undercover mission.
The door to the elevator opens, and Dick comes face to face with Crowne, rapidly typing away on his computer with a mantic glint in his eyes. He's got all three desks covered in piles of paperwork and four chalk boars with various colored writing.
Oof, it's worst than he thought.
This looks like it was a level 10 mess. In the five months that he has dated Crowne he's only seen a 10 twice.
Dick clears his throat hoping to break Crowne from his trance. It doesn't work, not that he's surprised. Carefully placing the take-out bags on one of the couches, he struts over and gentle taps one hunched over shoulder.
Crowne eyes swing to him, his entire expression brightens when he realizes who it is. "Hello Darling. I'm sorry I didn't hear you come in"
Dick's heart flutters at the word of endearment. He takes control of the reaction by channeling it into making his eyes soft as he leans down for a kiss. Crowne meets half way, melting against Dick like he's not used to being desired.
It's so adorable that Dick allows the kiss to linger longer than normal. He pulls back, smirking at the red cheeks and a slightly dazed expression on Crowne's face. He never gets tired of putting that particular look on Crowne.
"It's alright, I can see you're busy. My fault for dropping in unannounced, but I was in the neighborhood, and we could have lunch together." Dick tilts his head "If you have time to spare".
Crowne looks very remorseful. "I'm so sorry, darling. I have a meeting about the new cellphone models, and I just found out the model is having issues. The batteries are blowing up while the camera feature is either freezing the whole processor or just breaking down the command. I don't have much time today for lunch"
Dick knows it's part of the plan, but he can't help but be sad they can't spend too much time together. It's done wonders for his undercover job as Crowne nervously plays with a pen, apologizing again for his workload.
He shrugs, offering to wait for Crowne with the prepared excuse. The other man brightens, promising to finish as soon as he can. Dick walks over to grab his book as Crowne returns his attention to his screen, typing even faster.
He's never seen anyone that could type as fast as Crowne, not even Bruce or Babs. The fact Crowne created his working computer from the processor to the modified keyboard meant very little.
Crowne typed on any computer as if he had lessons from birth and not learning alongside the rest of the world when computers started getting more popular. Dick still knows many people who prefer paper and pens to have to press keys.
"You won't be alone for too long," Crowne calls, eyes never leaving his screen as his fingers fly over the slightly curved keyboard "Tim will be here in half a hour. You two can spend time together"
Dick forced a smile "Sounds great"
Just great. Drake's arrival would limit his snooping time. Recently he's noticed the younger boy always seemed to insert himself between Dick and Crowne. Alfred had laughed when he reported this slight mishap claiming that he would get the same complaints from Bruce a few years ago.
Back when Dick would try to scare away Catwoman or Talia.
Dick knows that different. He is trying to stop a legit trafficking ring and doesn't want to have some adult time with Crowne. Bruce should have not been looking for a stepmother for him, especially with those women.
Not when Clark Kent was literally right there. He'll convince the old man of this someday.
"Tim looks up to you. He makes inquiries about you often." Crowne continues. His more formal speech means he is slightly nervous. Dick's lip twitches into a smile as his face turns red; simultaneously, his posture straightens. Another give. "I was wondering if you would like to do an event with him."
"A event?"
Crowne pauses, then in a forced calm voice, he says, "I have a side project that involves some of Gotham's youth. The kind of youth often overlooked."
The warm feeling crumbles in Dick's chest. Quickly he double-taps his recording bracelet. This is it. The first real sign of Crowne's side business. He has finally been let in on it.
Dick is going to be sick.
"I wouldn't mind. This project..what is it?" Dick asks carefully, standing up and sauntering to Crowne. He swings his hips a little too much, but it is just what the other man likes as his eyes finally leave the screen and lock on his strut.
He leans on over the desk, smirking as Crowne fumbles in front of him. He's adorable-
No. He's easy to trick.
He sells kids. Dick needs to remember that. His treacherous heart still speeds up.
Crowne stares at him with a slack jaw, and it strokes Dick's ego fiercely. He waits a few minutes, but when all his fake boyfriend does is gawk, he leans closer. "Darling? The project?"
"Oh! Oh yes, of course," Crowne jerks in place, quickly pulling open a drawer. He presses a button inside the drawer- Dick makes a note to check that later- and a side compartment opens. He pulls out a small black notebook with a green ghost flying around a white D on the front of it.
Dick recognizes the symbol. It's the same one that a few street kids passed to Jason a few weeks ago. Jason had gone in as Robin- the more beloved Robin. Dick hates to admit it, but his brother has a better connection with the people of this city.
The street kids said that if you showed this symbol at secret meetings, then you would get supplies and support at said meetings. The thing was, most of the younger kids did not come back from the meetings.
They weren't taken by force, but after a third or fourth visit, they agreed to go with the men and women passing out the resources. Batman had yet to pin these meetings down since they were using vans and popping up randomly throughout the city. They would tear down and be on the road long before the morning light graced the sky.
Crowne flips through the book landing on a page and pushing it to Dick. "I am opening a gym for youth. I was thinking of advertising it as gymnastics and aquatic sports. I know you've dabbled in them before and was wondering if you would teach a beginners class?"
Dick reads over the page. It's like a mind map of a gym, with ideas and more accurate details circled and connected in a giant web. None of it seems sinister.
None of it seems well organized either, but it's wild and brilliant just like Crowne. Why did this man waste so much talent on crime? Why couldn't he be the perfect partner he was pretending to be?
"Where did you get this notebook?" He hears himself say, eyes tracing the beginner's trapeze and beginners Aerial silks with question marks hungrily. He's never thought about teaching his skill, but being surrounded by eager children looking up at him to learn of his family's legacy...... makes him yearn.
When his fantasy turns to the horde of children calling him dad and then running around Crowne calling the other man father, that desire is pushed to the furthest part of his mind.
He won't give in to them. Maybe he would one day find someone to settle down with. One day the Flying Graysons will grace the skies again. But they will never carry the Crowne name.
"A kid sold it to me," Crowne says with a confused tilt of his head. "I was walking through the street vendors festival, and he had a blanket covered in different notebook designs. He didn't pay for a table, and he was a bit away from the entrance, but he was doing his best. I bought eight of them. You should have seen the way his eyes lit up."
Dang it. Not a confession. Not even anything he could use to tie Crowne to the symbol.
The other man raises a brow "Why do you ask?"
Dick smiles with enough heat he practically undresses. Crowne predictably goes beat red at the sight. "I like the design. Wanted one for myself."
"I...I have the young man's contact information. If you desire it, I could purchase some for you?" Crowne melts, pulling on his collar.
Alright. Maybe the kid will be willing to talk. "That would be lovely. You know what else would be lovely?"
He rounds the desk, his lips pulling into a slutty smile. Placing his hands on each arm rest he leans forward, trapping the other man in his office chair. Crowne swallows. "What?"
"You, me, and a hotel room all to ourselves." Dick's voice turns dark with sinful promise. Crowne lips tremble, but he nods.
"I....I've never been with anyone before" the other man confesses and Dick feels a wicked amout of want. He wants to be the person to show him. To teach him. To make his first time so special and wonderful and-
The elevator doors dig open. Drake hopped in, using clutches, and shouted proudly, "I broke my leg!"
Crowne pushes Dick away, rushing to the boy. "Ancients! What in the world happened!?"
"I got mugged on my way to the library!" The boy says it's the greatest thing to ever happen to him.
"That's not a good thing, Tim!"
"It's okay! Robin and Sparrow saved me! It was so cool!" Drake swoons. "I don't know why they were out so early, but they swooped in and got the man who broke my leg before he could get away. Robin even swung me to the hospital! Sparrow didn't say much besides tsking, but he was cool too!
Dick squishes the small amounts of regret for being Interrupted. He glances at the other two before quickly shoving the black book into his pocket. This may give him more answers. They need to see if they can spot that symbol anywhere in the city.
Damian still needs to be discovered in the media. Bruce had decided to keep him hidden in the manor to build a better introduction. Which means they have the perfect candidate to try to get a in at the meetings.
He must close this case before his rapidly developing feelings get in the way.
Drake spots him over Crowne's shoulders. The excitement on his face dies, as he glares at him. Dick hides a wince. Looks like today will be another, "Stay away from my big brother" day from Drake.
"Thank goodness the vigilantes were near you." Crowne gushes, brushing the hair out of Drake's face. He places a kiss on the bruised forehead.
Drake's voice turns hard. " Yeah...almost like they were following me."
Crude. He'll have to warn Jason and Damian to not follow him for a while. Again, he curses that Drake is far too smart for his own good.
#dcxdpdabbles#dc x dp crossover#the adoptive son#part 4#Dick is slowly falling.#Tim thought his heroes saved him randomly until he realized#Damian is here now!#Danny's symbol is a new calling card for those in need
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They get turned on when you’re angry — headcanons
a/n: thank you 🩰 for this thought, and thank you anon for requesting it 🧡💛 (this is ever so slightly unserious, please accept my apologies)
warnings: starts out suggestive, derails into smut :)
Rhysand:
“You can’t keep insisting you’re the most handsome High Lord at the High Lord meetings, Rhys!”
You’ve got him sat on the edge of your bed as you scold him for his behaviour, Rhys waiting patiently as he watches you trying to ply the clips from your hair, your own patience wearing thin as frustration builds at their refusal to budge
“I mean really Rhys, I understand you’re no longer acting out a cruel persona, but a little tact, no? Just some discretion? Not cracking jokes left right and centre!”
You hiss as one of the clips snags on a strand of hair, cursing both him and the clip out under your breath
“Darling, will you please just allow me to—”
“Don’t you dare move, Rhysand.”
Colour warms the tan skin of his cheeks, eyes appreciatively running down the trail of your spine, heat gathering at the spankable curve of your hind. The tone you’d used…
“I know you think you’re charismatic and charming, but your arrogance is getting out of hand,” you continue, oblivious to the dark dip in his thoughts, “I suppose it’s inevitable when you have no one to keep you in check, but—”
“No one to keep me in check?”
You whirl on him, hair at last free and unbound, whipping over your shoulder as you turn to him
He’s undone the top most buttons of his shirt, leaned back on the bed, long legs parted—not at all ashamed of the reaction he’s having to the sharp, clipped tone you’d been using on him
“Rhysand!” You hiss, “I’m trying to…”
But he’s not hiding anything, arousal heating the glimmering bond that lies between you, skin tingling with awareness as warmth pools in your belly
“What was it you said again? That I have no one to keep me in check?” He muses, hand shifting over the muscle of his thigh to the obvious hardness between his legs. “No one to remind me of my place?”
“Rhysand,” you warn, “we have a dinner tonight, do not…” but you trail off when he palms himself through the fitted fabric of his trousers, a low groan coming from the back of his throat.
You pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth, delicately licking over dried lips, an action he marks eagerly. “I suppose you could serve being taught a lesson to two…”
Cassian:
“Cass, hurry up! We’re going to be late! Again!”
Really, you would have thought as a General he would have excellent time management skills and would never struggle with being late. And usually, that’s true. But something about going out to dinner to see his family just sends all of that training out the window
“Cassian?” You question, leaning over the banister to call up to your mate’s room. “Cassian, are you nearly ready?”
A series of knocks are landed to your front door, and you blanch, wondering if it’s another pair thinking of walking with you to the River House. But when you open it, you’re greeted with a proudly grinning Cassian, wings tucked in tight against the chill breeze
He must have flown out the window and round to the front again.
“Cassian!” You snap, “I was stressing! Why can’t you just please be on time and save me the anxiety?”
He opens his mouth, pride gleaming in his eyes at what he no doubt thinks is a clever trick, but the amusement has already seeped from your bones.
“For goodness sake,” you mutter, “you haven’t even—” You push up onto your tiptoes, leaning flush against him for support as you set straight a curled lock that was blown the wrong way, flopping to the wrong side of his head
You huff impatiently, settling back onto the flats of you feet, lightly smacking your hand over his chest as you reassess him. “Right. Good. Let’s go.”
“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” he tries, realising too late you’re genuinely bothered, agitation zinging down the bond. “They won’t even—”
“Cassian, I am not in the mood at the moment,” you snap sharply. “How many times have I told you. We need to be ready to leave half an hour before hand. You’re a General for crying out loud, put your knowledge to good use.”
You’ve never snapped like that before at him. He knows you get a little tightly wound when it comes to time management, but never anything like this. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten your gears turning like that. But your arms have crossed over your chest, drawing his attention to the dip in the neckline, a little further than usual. The strict set of your brows, and the disapproving cut of your mouth…
He zones back in when you click your fingers in his face, “are you even listening to me? For Mother’s sake Cassian, will you at least pay attention when I’m talking to you?”
“I’m paying attention,” he manages, caught off guard by the arousal that’s stirring in his stomach at the terseness of your question. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t. Now hurry up and let’s—”
“Don’t cut me off like that,” he breathes lowly, pupils dilated as he stares down at you. The rise and fall of your chest as you glare impatiently…holding your ground…
“Cassian!” You inhale sharply as his large palm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his heat, nosing at your neckline, his scent wrapping around you, and— “Cassian…” you whisper, back curving with arousal
“Where’d that attitude go?” He asks breathlessly. “Bring it back for me. Won’t you do that, sweetheart?”
“Cass…we’re going to be late…” you manage to get out, knocked off your feet by the abrupt display of hunger
“We won’t,” he murmurs, pressing hot kisses to your throat as he works his way down. “Besides, what were those thirty minutes originally put in place for?”
You flush at the reminder—at how frequently things like this would happen so you would both agree to prepare in advance in the case of certain appetites arising
“Though if you want to keep using that tone on me…” his hips roll against yours, pressing the hard outline of his cock into your tummy, groaning at how it feels. “I don’t think I’d mind…”
Azriel:
“Azriel.” You hiss, gripping his hand by the wrist, tight. “Don’t even think about it.”
The shadows scuttle away from beneath your skirts, while the others peer up at the painting Helion’s currently showing off.
“You can’t just put your hands on me whenever you feel mildly compromised,” you whisper sharply, hoping the others won’t notice how you’re lagging behind.
“He just invited you to his bed,” Azriel growls lowly, pupils contracted as he stares razors into the High Lord of Day’s turned back. “And you hardly mustered up a refusal.”
“I was being polite. And of course the offer wasn’t serious,” you hiss back. “Besides, he’s invited you to bed plenty of times, and you never see me getting all territorial about it.”
“I wish you would,” he breathes, voice roughening as he flicks his wrist out of your grasp in favour of gripping your hip lightly, pulling you a little closer. “At least then he’d get the idea.”
“He’s doing this because you’re making it so apparent we’re recently mated,” you snap, “obviously he’s going to enjoy at last being able to get a rise out of you.”
“I need him to know that you’re mine.”
Heat flutters between your legs, suddenly feeling breathless. Your tongue flicks out over dry lips, and that familiar warmth zips down the bond, still so new and sensitive to every change, keyed to one another.
“You keep that sort of nonsense in the bedroom, Azriel,” you manage to hiss to him. “I do not belong to you. I am your mate.”
You can feel even on your side how overpowering, how dominating those instincts are, made worse by the unwelcome and incessant advances from another male. Can feel how he’s straining under the urge to claim you in a very obvious way.
“You belong to me, as I belong to you,” he growls lowly, darkness thickening at his back as those great wings flare menacingly.
“If you belong to me then I command you to be quiet and behave,” you hiss, the crackling tension between you having you snap, frustration simmering beneath your skin as you’re forced to keep your hands off each other until this bothersome tour comes to an end.
It seems to be the last straw for Azriel, however.
He releases a snarl that sounds mixed with a groan, starving lust barreling down the bond as he’s no longer able to keep his side entirely concealed, large palm shackling your wrist as he drags you away from the others, too hungry to wait
The command had been his breaking point, arousal burning through his blood at the sharpness you’d used
He hopes you’ll use it on him again, even once the initial frenzy has at last faded…
Eris:
“Either make me cum, or I’ll find someone else who will,” you hiss, nails scraping over his scalp, gripping the silky locks in your fist
“I wouldn’t recommend that, fawn,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing his body tight to yours, so you’re trapped between him and the wall as his thigh is pushed flush with your heat. “Besides, you’re already dripping all over me. You think you’ll be able to find anyone else who’ll give you the intensity of one I can?”
“I don’t care at this point,” you counter. “Either give it to me or I’ll have to use something else.”
The impatience catches him off guard. You’re usually so sweet and docile—he wonders where the spark has come from. It seems rather fun to tamper with
“Like your fingers? Your pillow?” He asks, voice deepening as he presses his hips to yours, grinding into the softness of your tummy as you try to rub over his thigh, to get some kind of pleasure. “I’d love to see you try,” he whispers breathlessly
“Fuck you,” you hiss, heat fluttering between your legs, mind turning dizzy with hunger as your arms wrap tight over his broad shoulders, leg weaving round his to try and get him closer—
“Quit it,” you snap, flame blazing in your eyes as your lip curls when he pulls his thigh back, leaving you without stimulation. “You’re being a fucking pain,” you hiss, tugging on his hair
His eyes flutter, hips bucking against you with hunger as he dips down, attacking your neck with kisses and nips, arousal having him firmly within its grasp at that demand
You moan at the sensations, back arching up into him as you feel the pronounced outline of him against you, twitching as he grinds against you
“Fuck, Eris…” you pant, so near the verge of pleasure.
“Get on the bed,” you whisper, hands shakily pushing him away, so he’s stood to his full height, looming over you
When he doesn’t move, you snarl, too impatient to wait for his games. “I said get on the bed.”
The intensity of his arousal hits you then, practically knocking you clean off your feet, both of you seemingly taken aback at just how heavily affected he is
“You like this?” You breathe, pulse spiking as you peer up into his eyes, irises almost fully eclipsed by hunger
He doesn’t need to answer as your hand slips between the two of you, cupping him, feeling just how hard he is, how hungry he is… You curse lowly
“Oh you’re going to pay for every damn teasing thing you’ve ever done to me,” you whisper over his mouth, pushing for him to walk back until his legs come into contact with the bed
“And you’re going to pay tenfold.”
Lucien:
“I just don’t get it, Lu,” you sigh frustratedly, pacing back and forth as he watches you from the plush armchair. “I’ve tried so many different things, she just seems to have it out for me.”
“Are you sure you’re not overthinking this?” He suggests wryly. “We both know you have a habit of assuming the worst when it comes to how other people perceive you.”
“I’m not overthinking this one,” you snap. “She blatantly cut me off and turned her back on me during tea the other day. I don’t know what it is other than she just dislikes me.”
“And wouldn’t it simply be the end of the world if one female didn’t absolutely adore you,” he drawls, stretching out in his seat, long legs crossing at the ankle
“Don’t take that tone with me,” you say sharply, spinning around to face him, glaring
Lucien stiffens under the fire in your gaze, the anger simmering away as you stare him down, surprised by how hot his skin feels beneath that look
“I know for a fact I haven’t done anything wrong this time—and I’m certain of that,” you huff, beginning to pace back and forth, allowing him a moment to grapple with the reaction searing through his body
“Why is she trying to bring me down? I don’t understand it. I’ve never done anything, said anything that could harm her standing in some way, so why is she trying to bring me down?”
He listens to the harsh puff of breath, the sharp sighs coming from your lips, the clean cut of your steps as you spin at the end of a pace—pulse increasing as he slips a long finger beneath his collar
“We females are already at a disadvantage,” you go on, brow tightening now with anger, “can’t she understand that? We should stick together to help one another, not step on each other to further ourselves. It’s so backward! Why are you fighting against me when the problem is with the males in charge? Do you see what I mean? Lu? Lu—”
A hot flush warms your cheeks, thoughts instantly fading from your mind, replaced by the view before you
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, attempting to readjust the tightness of the already close-fitting riding trousers he wears. “Continue,” he manages thickly, “I’m listening.”
But you’re done with the conversation already. Done the second you looked at him, the outline of his arousal for you so clear and prominent
“I’m glad you are, but I’m certainly not,” you murmur, already walking over to him, putting yourself into his lap, straddling his hips as you pull your skirts up, feeling that delicious press between your legs
“I think I’m in need of a distraction anyway.”
general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy
az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya
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The MC Meeting the Brothers' (+Dia & Barbs) Cults
So like. Imagine the Brother's Fanclubs + Witchy Requests. That's this.
Contents: Satanic themes, demon stuff, witchy inspirations
~♡♡♡~
Lucifer
Lucifer's cults take this shit SERIOUSLY. They're not just fooling around with the occult, they live and breathe it.
I'm talking dark robes, goats heads, bonfires, animal blood, ritual dances- You know. The works.
Definitely the sort of occultists who gatekeep other occultists. They want the world to think of THEM, the followers of the mighty Lucifer, as THE quintessential demonic cult to model all others after. He (and by that they mean they) deserves no less.
Oh yes, they are a very prideful and obnoxious bunch... Completely void of self-awareness too. Try to point out how arrogant they're being and they'll call you crazy.
Lucifer openly despises most of them and possesses a quiet distain for the rest. He doesn't think they're nearly as competent and useful as they claim to be and would rather they simply butt out of his affairs.
He doesn't visit them much nor allow them to summon him unless it is a world-ending emergency (so never). A former past leader thought he was beyond those rules and paid for his hubris with his spine...
Lucifer will do all in his power to convince MC that his cult isn't even worth visiting. They'll annoy them to death... And even if they do go, the self-absorbed members won't exactly roll out the red carpet.
Just take down any names of the most irritating ones and Lucifer will take care of it. The dungeon rats could use some company.
Mammon
Mammon's cult kind of feels like a mix between a tech startup and Gambler's Anonymous at times. Money is the goal, babes. Everybody there is some kind of slave to the grind and they hustle like the goddamn NFL.
Funny enough, it usually isn't the already rich and successful who find themselves in Mammon's orbit, but those who are close to, if not in, poverty and looking to turn things around.... in less than stellar ways.
What I'm saying is, most are either casino regulars, scam artists, or buy into crypto.
That said, unlike most of his brothers, Mammon actually has a pretty deep soft spot for his followers. He puts on the "callous demon" act when he's brought out, but generally, he never cruel to them. He may even throw in an extra bit of help for free if he sees someone is struggling.
When they first met the MC, they really went out of their way to be sure MC was safe, pampered, and satisfied. This was Mammon's favorite human, after all! He talks about them constantly...
It's pretty humorous because most of them already know what kind of food MC likes, what their sense of style is, their favorite colors, and the like from just listening to Mammon's rambles. Or because he'll send one of them to fetch him some kind of present when he's visiting.
Admittedly, they're all kinda scummy and insufferable at times. But endearing in the same way Mammon can be so hanging out with them can still be a good time. MC just have to keep an eye on their wallet.
Leviathan
Levi's cult feels like a bunch of teens who read a creepypasta once, tested it out as a joke but found out it was all real. Thankfully, instead of being horrified, they were actually psyched!
They kind of take to devil worship with a DnD-like enthusiasm. They all have code names like, "Grimshadow" or "Evergloom," each owns a black cloak that they MUST wear to all meetings, and they all have incredibly embellished and extensive backstories for their "darkside" personas. Levi is very proud of their commitment to it all.
That being said, they do take to their found family, counterculture thing with a good dash of humor. They once all attended their local aquarium in full robes and linked hands around the jellyfish tank for shits and giggles.
Levi's followers rarely summon him, but he stays in regular contact with the group through chatrooms and messengers. They love to report on the fun "campaigns" they're building on or when they pull some kind of silly stunt to scare the normies.
When MC visits them, they've long since built up this prince/ss persona for them and treat them like the defacto second-in-command. (Partially because they know Levi would flip out if they upset MC in any way).
If MC enjoys a bit of LARPing, they're the most dedicated group they'll ever find! If they're not willing to play act royalty for a few hours...? Steer clear.
Satan
Satan has a ton of cults so they come in all shapes, sizes, and flavors. MC will certainly find one for them!
... The catch is that very few of them actually have a good idea of who Satan really is. It's pretty common to mistake him for Lucifer still, to the point that some cults use their names interchangeably, and THOSE cults better not try contact him personally.
If MC manages to uncover more updated following of Satan's, they'll feel like they walked into a "National Treasure"-style bookclub. These guys are looking for the secrets of the universe, never mind anything else.
Meeting with Satan's inner circle usually feature the search, collection, curation of old esoteric tomes or lost artifacts from the distant realms. The majority of the participants are scholars, academics, and the odd cooky conspiracy theorist who just happened to be right.
Also. Cats. Soooo many cats... The cultists are VERY aware of Satan's volatile temper, so they take pains to keep as many cats present as they can whenever they summon him. Their meeting house is just full of them...
Satan's cult gives MC the real VIP treatment because NO ONE wants to the one to tell the Avatar of Wrath that they disrespected his loved one... If MC were walking barefoot, they'd be laying pillows beneath their every step. The only things treated better are the clubhouse cats.
Asmodeus
Asmo's cult is basically one big family. Very enmeshed and a lot of history, but also soooo fascinating to be around.
If MC wanted to keep track of every person in Asmo's following, they would have to make a chart that could expand the length of an entire wall and, in some cases, go back generations if not centuries.
Followers of Asmo have historically ranged everywhere from sex workers to concubines and even members of the aristocracy looking increase their social capital. Being under his cult provided protection and refuge for the most derided of society, no matter orientation or background. A good portion of his modern following are actually members who've been grandfatherd in from parents or siblings who have joined.
And, of course, Asmo maintains a very close and personal relationship with almost all of them. He's always invited to attend baby showers, weddings, graduations, birthdays, what have you and he makes it to a good deal of them, even if only for a few minutes.
Because of its sheer size and unorthodox structure, Asmo's following almost seems like a "cult" in the loosest sense. They have rituals, spells, and meetings but it all looks SO much different than the others. Get-togthers among the adults are practically just parties and maybe you summon some succubi with goat's blood and glitter glue.
Asmo's cult can be kinda catty, but generally very supportive and they LOVE having MC around. Big gossips with a lot of questions. If they love a party, then they can't go wrong!
Beelzebub
Beel's cult takes self-indulgence to a whole new level. These guys LOVE their vices and find a little demonic touch is the best way to keep the indulgence going.
Belphegor
It's amazing that for such a sweet demon, his cult is some of the scummiest people on the planet. We're talking riding yachts on your mega-yacht levels of excess. "Too much of a good thing" taken to the extreme.
The thing is, as long as you have the money to feed Beel then he's really agreeable and kind. So wealthy assholes take advantage of his generosity all the time...
That said, don't feel too bad for Beel just yet because they ARE scumbags, but Beel is in charge and he has his limits.
One old billionaire kept summoning him during his fangol matches. The guy's maids found his nightrobe ripped to shreds and bite marks in the furniture.
Another one made a passing insult about Mammon and Beel came home to give his brother the lady's jewelry... after he washed them off, of course.
He discourages MC from meeting them even harder than Lucifer, and if they insist, he'll go with them and loom over their shoulder like a round-the-clock bodyguard. He doesn't need to tell his followers to treat MC nicely... he'll make them.
Absolutely those edgy kids who dress in all black and SAY that yeah, they've totally met Belphegor. But they really haven't, and it shows.
Remember, Belphie is on the blacklist so most witches who say they've met him are fucking liars. However, that doesn't stop novice covens searching for a little respect from claiming they're in good with the guy.
Since the group doesn't really know what Belphegor is about, they most just use their little club as an excuse to grief others and claim undue superiority. They pull a lot of pranks though, so they at least have some parts right.
Belphie has a vague awareness of their existence, but couldn't be bothered to contact them or set the record straight. What's it matter to him if a bunch of humans want to make a fool of themselves? He doesn't care that much about his reputation.
If MC were actually summon Belphegor themselves in front of them, the entire group would shit their pants immediately then cry and beg for forgiveness. Again, Belphie doesn't care, but he likes toying with fools so he'd play the part of the "Angry Master" long enough to make them run for their lives.
Needless to say, if MC wants there to be no Belphie-cult, no more Belphie cult there will be.
Diavolo
Actually a very small group since it's not super widespread that the Demon King is out of commission. But those who are there are a real who's-who of the witching world.
Dia doesn't actually interact with his cult very much, despite their combined influence, because he finds them very off-putting. Most of them are just "yes men" or social climbers wanting to get in good with royal bloodline, so he doesn't put much stock in what they do or say.
If he does contact them, it's for his "Bring Harmony" plans and they do come in handy as envoys in the human realm. He keeps the interactions brief though.
Several of his number have attempted to get into contact with MC before, but Solomon usually wards them off for much the same reason Dia does. They all just want something from them, so why let them bother his sweet little apprentice?
Those who slip through the cracks get shut down immediately by an impromptu visit from the friendly neighborhood sorcerer who seems to have some of charm in place for just such occasion. It's pretty confusing for MC to watch Solomon drag some big politican out of the house by the scruff of the neck, but it's probably better that they just don't ask and move on.
Barbatos
An even smaller group than Dia's and even more secretive. You basically have to be invited in by Barb's himself so a new member gets added every half century or so...
Nobody is quite sure what spurs Barbs to select someone into his cult... Maybe they make a good first impression when summoning him or he sees that they're important for the future? Sometimes, he'll even induct complete normal humans who weren't even witches to start with so it's anybody's guess.
Due to its small size and, frankly, years of even centuries worth of distance between members there's a lot less meetings and more just doing what Barbs says.
For instance, he may instruct a member to bury a particular message on a hill to then tell a different member to go find 60 years later... Or he'll have another member set into motion a chain of events that won't actually be felt for decades to come.
The cult members don't know about MC unless Barbs NEEDS them to know about MC. He keeps a lot in the dark. If they do, he takes pains to stress that he admires MC quite a bit and to not upset them...
When Barbatos tells you not to do something, you don't fucking do it, so they are VERY kind to MC. Just in that "I feel like there's a gun to my head"- kind of way...
#okay soulmare#if you wont give Asmo's character depth and attention#i will#justice for asmo#obey me#obey me shall we date#shall-we-date-obey-me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me headcanons#obey me scenarios
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weyy idk if ur taking reqs rn but if u are… ik youve already wrote this prompt like twice but can we have more argument angst w ghost 😭😭
simon struggles with anger (you struggle to help him)
—tags: brief gore mention, cursing, angst, argument, established "situationship"
—part two here
His fingers find the crest of your waist in the dark, holding you against the side of him as shallow breaths pound in his chest. Your lips are puffy and red. You wipe your hand against your used mouth and curl up into the warmth radiated from the colossal form beside you.
"Fuckin' hell," he murmurs, a low rasp. "I swear... Where'd a pretty thing like you learn all that, huh?"
But, with a flush to your cheeks, you barely have time to part your lips before he grumbles into your hair:
"Don't answer that."
It's a quiet order. One that rumbles low under his heavy breathing. Because Simon is full of orders. Demands. In bed, it thrills you, incites a thrum in your veins, an urge to follow and please him. He will take, and demand— until your legs are sore and your skin is chafed. But sometimes this persona bleeds into life outside of his bed. You try to be patient. You try to understand how difficult it must be to adjust to being just a person, here with you, and not a SAS lieutenant.
Especially for him.
But where Simon is rough and demanding, he is also quiet and thoughtful.
He moves his hand to the underbelly of your jaw. Softly now, he mutters, "Need water?"
"Yes, please," you answer, hoarseness in your voice.
And soon the warmth beside you ghosts out of his bedroom to fulfill your request, leaving you with a few moments to feel the tiredness in your limbs. He'd kept you up longer than you anticipated. He usually did.
But a sharp ding from your phone widens your eyes.
A message.
Your phone— casually placed on his desk in the corner of his room.
You hadn't meant to leave it there, not when his desk was particularly off-limits to you. Another order of his: don't touch my stuff. Even though Simon wanted you over every night, he didn't want you meddling in the crevices of his privacy. You did your best to respect that, but in the heat of removing your clothes, the phone in your pocket had ended up on the nearest surface.
You tug on just your shirt. Bare feet against cold floor. But when you reach for your phone, you carelessly brush a hand against the notebook beside it, nudging it off the desk.
It sits on the floor with the spine propped up, pages parted.
It's terrible, the curiosity that itches from the sight.
You reach for it with your tongue poking your cheek. You shouldn't look. A whisper of warning echoes in your mind. His privacy, his trust— you valued those things. But perhaps it's the fact that Simon is still such an enigma to you, or perhaps the fact that you immediately notice penned sketches on the paper, but you pick it up and can't stop yourself from taking a peak at the opened page.
The inked images stun you.
Only for a second can you bear them.
A brief second filled with... horrid things. Gruesome things. Things you knew, deep down, he'd seen, but you never wanted to entertain the detailed reality of. The sight spurs something in your stomach: nausea, maybe. An unease that twists and churns and urges you to clamp the notebook shut with a gasp.
You shouldn't have looked.
And you're about to set it back down—
But a presence makes itself known behind you.
"What are you doin'?"
His voice is quietly tense. Enough to snap you out of the images brandished in your mind. If the moonlit room is a river, then his words are a stone— splintering the surface.
"Oh, I—" you stutter, looking at the notebook in your hand. "I was just—"
But you can't finish. No— there's a hand ripping it from you.
"Just what?"
In the dark, you turn to face him. He sets down the glass of water on his desk; flicks on the small lamp. The light reveals to you the pits of inky black in his eyes, notebook gripped tightly in his hand.
"I was just trying to grab my phone, Simon," you explain in a murmur.
"Right," a click of his tongue. Animosity presses against his teeth. You see it, you feel it. And you wish you could clamp your eyes shut and return to the moment, not so long ago, when he'd been holding you with warmth.
He holds the notebook up. "Does this... look like your phone?"
"No, it just fell—"
"Liar," he interjects, cold and low. "You were going through my stuff."
"I wasn't," you insist, shaking your head. "I mean... I may have taken a peek but only because it opened—"
"You..." a sharp inhale. "Took a peek, huh?"
"I'm sorry."
"How many times do I have to—" he closes his eyes for a moment, but they reopen with a hollow flame. "You never fuckin' listen, I swear. Do you have a thick skull?”
And maybe it's the way he is staring at you, or the lick of venom in his insult, but you mumble: "Well, maybe you shouldn't have me stay here if you can't handle people touching any of your things."
"No," he grits. "Maybe you need to be more obedient."
He holds your stare.
A presence that nearly smothers you.
But you squint your eyes through the tension. "Obedient? Really? I mean— do you hear yourself? I am human and I accidentally dropped your book—"
"Don't," he breathes through his nose, a flare under the mask. "Don't give me that. Goin' thought my shit when I told you not to. Now you wanna stand here with bloody excuses. You are so..."
"So what?" you snap softly. A hand grips the end of your shirt to properly cover yourself because right now, you're not sure if you want those eyes looking at you.
But he doesn't finish, just pinches the bridge of his nose and stares off at the wall behind you. Muscles beneath the fabric of his mask twitch and ripple and shudder with a curl of rage.
"I told you," he repeats, more to himself than to you. "I told you so many goddamn times. Fuckin' hell, you make me... I want to just— Jesus Christ. Why can't you listen to something so simple?"
"You know, Simon," you retort under your breath. "You have so much to say when you're pissed, don't you?" You huff out a breath. "Somehow you have no problem finding the right words to tell me I've done something wrong. But when it comes time to tell me you care, that's so hard, right? When was the last time you even said it? You can't find the words for those feelings?"
"Shut it," he orders— no, barks. The curl of anger flickers and seethes and looks back at you, staring you down as if you are an enemy who has gotten in his way. His free hand clenches. You regret everything you've said. "Shut up, I swear to God. You went through my shit. You have no fuckin' right to talk about how I feel."
And then he is pacing around, a short trajectory of thunderous footsteps. His chest heaves. Ragged breaths claw up his throat until his voice raises to a level you haven't heard before:
"You want me to talk about how I fuckin’ feel? I feel nothing."
The snarl of his words is loud but easily drowned out by the sound of the notebook hitting the wall. It's a sudden sound that jolts you.
And maybe, maybe now you see it— how much of a lie he has shouted. I feel nothing. But there is so much feeling, so much unadulterated anger and pain thrown against the wall that it causes tears to quiver at the rims of your eyes. And your stomach churns, not with nausea this time but with something else, a feeling that grips your shoulders and tucks you a few steps further away from him.
Because at this moment Simons scares you.
And with all his orders, all his demands, he has never truly scared you before.
And if the fear wasn't there, you might've realized why he felt this way. You might've realized the images in his notebook were pieces of himself he was so terrified for you to see, and it angered him more than anything that, despite his efforts, he couldn't hide them from you forever.
He only snaps out of it when he sees you.
Moments pass, and then Simon is looking back at you with wild eyes. Eyes that flicker over you— your hunched body, your hands pressed against the wall behind you because you've backed up so far, the tears in your eyes.
"Oh, Jesus Christ," he mutters, quieter now. He drags a hand over his eyes. "Babe, I—"
But when he tries to take a step closer, you flinch further.
"Please," you whisper. A few tears escape. "I want to... I want to go home."
I want to get away from you.
"It's late," he argues weakly, still struggling to control his breath. His anger fizzles rapidly, leaving behind a shell of regret and pain and worry as he watches you reach for your pants.
You're tugging them up your legs with fingers that fumble.
"Y/N," Simon swallows, pressing his hands over his veiled forehead. "Don't. I will— Fuck, I'll go."
And you don't have time to protest. With hands that tremble, Simon begins pacing around the room again, this time not in anger. No— something that has him mumbling quietly under his breath over and over: "I'll go, I'll go."
He grabs his keys and keeps his eyes on the floor. "You stay here, yeah? Don't... don't go out so late."
A bob of his throat.
This order arrives in a voice that sounds frail and hollow.
"Okay," you whisper, nodding.
And he leaves. Tugging on his coat and within seconds, you hear the sound of his front door shut. Simon, the man who was just blistered with anger over his privacy, leaves you here to sleep in his own home without him. And you're too shaken, too exhausted, to wonder where he could possibly go for the rest of the night.
------
Simon was always saying he would quit smoking.
Bad for my lungs, pet, I know it. He would mumble against your lips in a kiss that tasted sour. It didn't bother you, but you noticed how the taste turned thicker during those days he'd shut himself away in his room.
Got to help me, pet. He had said one time into your neck, tucking a pack in your hand. Hide 'em from me, yeah?
(The only request for help he's ever uttered.)
But it didn't really matter where you hid them—
—Simon could always buy more.
And when he returns the next morning, the smell is pungent.
You're already awake. A small bag stuffed with your things, but you are quick to hide it when you hear the front door creak open.
A shuffling of boots.
While his footsteps had been thunderous before, a solemn calm now replaces the storm.
Wordlessly, he searches for you. He finds you frozen in place near the bathroom where you'd just been collecting your things— a toothbrush, a tube of makeup. But your bag is placed on the counter where he can't see.
"Hey," he offers a soft, hoarse greeting. "Didn't expect you to be here."
And then he holds up a bagged pastry and a to-go canister of tea. "Got you breakfast, jus' in case."
It shouldn't be so strange. The sight. His large hands gripping food from some nearby cafe. His eyes: red, worn. He looks like he didn't sleep. The air outside is brittle and already wintery: had he just walked around all night in the cold? And even now, with the hollow pit in your stomach left from your crying, a touch of concern finds you when you notice how pale his exposed skin is. A slight pink creeping from under the mask.
"I don't want a pastry and tea."
Your voice. Is it—?
Defeated.
Because your care and concern can only go so far with a man who slips so easily into anger, but with even greater ease, isolates himself from care.
“Right,” he clears his throat. “I’ll jus’ leave it in the kitchen, then. You could have it later.”
Avoidance.
Is he really just going to pretend—?
“You scared me last night.”
The admission slips out in a whisper. But it's enough. It's all he needs to hear for his eyes to dig shut, a visible flinch rippling through his broad shoulders. His avoidance cracks.
A gruff, "I know."
"You were so angry, Simon. I—"
Dark eyes flutter back open. Gently now, "I would never hurt you."
"But you did. You do." A swallow that tastes salty. "You shut me out. I mean— your notebook. It was... You—"
"Think I'm fucked then, huh?"
Hollow words. The shell of a man speaking to you, with only a little boy inside. And you flutter your eyes because the backs of your lids remember the gore you'd seen. But your stomach has already swallowed and digested the sight, whittled it down to empathy.
"No, I don't," you whisper with a firm shake of your head. "I just think you need help. You deserve it, Simon. And I—" Hushed like a secret that rattles with defeat: "I don't know if I can give you that help."
There's just not much else to say.
The look he gives, pitiful and strained, tugs at your reserve. You have to walk away— you turn around to grab your bag. He sees it now. A sharp inhale sounds from his chest as you begin your journey to the front door with your belongings.
He follows. Sets the food on the table.
You don't really know what you want or what you need, but at this moment all you can think of is space.
"Don't," a quiet, rough plea.
A ghost hovers behind you as your hand wraps around the doorknob. A phantom cloaked in guilt and perhaps, the realization that what he'd expected you to do for so long, was finally coming to fruition.
"It's just space," you tell him in a murmur. "Simon, I just need space."
"Space from me?"
"From this."
"M' sorry," he breathes. "Please... I— it won't happen again. Fuck, I swear it. I'm so..."
And he struggles with the words because, fucking hell, you were right. Words of care, words of apology, always seem to evade him. But military jargon and sharp commands come with ease.
"I'm so sorry," Simon finally says, choppy. "I didn't want you seein' all that. But... bloody hell, I overreacted, didn't I?"
Salt lines your vision as he continues, urgently now, because your hand refuses to let up off the knob.
"Jesus Christ. I didn't mean to. You can't just— Pet, please. I'm sorry, alright? So fuckin' sorry, I mean it."
But his apologies don't do much to soothe the defeat in your chest. You can't look at him so you open the door instead.
A touch to your shoulder, perhaps firmer than he intends—
And you pause only because you think finally he might say what you were hoping he would. Something about care. Maybe even, a tinge of hope for— love.
(But no— he'd given you a clear warning from the beginning that he couldn't give that.)
So instead, he just shakes his head and drops his hand back to his side. The words die on his tongue, turned the same color of ash as his lashes, and he lets you leave.
#angst#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#cod
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workaholic - kang taehyun
summary: doing soobin a favor leads to a night alone with your boss... who you just so happen to be crushing on
pairing: gn reader x kang taehyun
genre: fluff; 1.6k words
a/n: maybe in a dream world a boss would let you take all the hours you wanted LOL but let’s just pretend~
some would call you a workaholic, but you simply called it living. there was no such thing as “working too hard”. you liked having money, and you didn’t dislike your job. especially as long as you got to see a certain someone. a certain someone who may also play a teensy tiny part in the reason why you enjoy working so much.
maybe that certain someone was your boss.
who you definitely did not have a crush on.
nope…
the door to ‘kang cafe’ chimes as your coworker soobin walks in, halfway through the process of putting his apron on. “y/n! you’re here already?” he asks while opening a drawer that held all of the staff name tags and important keys.
“yup,” you nod, “i’m working day shifts this week since i’m a little ahead on schoolwork.” you had been working your ass off teaching yourself the material since your professors proved themselves to be absolutely useless. going to class in the mornings only wasted your time and frustrated you further, so you decided to switch up your schedule a little.
there’s a hint of disappointment and guilt in soobin’s eyes, his fingers still fumbling his name tag around, desperately trying to attach it to his apron. “I was gonna ask if you could cover my night shift tomorrow…” he whines slightly. “I can’t ask you to work a full day…”
“huh? you won’t be here?” you ask. soobin shakes his head before a shy, proud smile covers his face. “nope, I happen to have a very special date,” he responds before loudly groaning, “ah, this stupid thing!” you laugh at the sight of him still struggling to get his name tag on.
“here let me..” you reach over to help the clumsy boy while giving him a reassuring smile, “and don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, I was gonna take some extra hours anywa–”
your words are interrupted by the sound of the back room closing and footsteps approaching. you both look over to see your boss, taehyun, looking at the two of you with a startled face. the sight of you and soobin, close proximity, your hands laying on soobin’s chest. he quickly clears his throat before returning to his usual chill persona.
“okay one, sorry for interrupting whatever this is,”
“um, they were just fixing my na–”
“and two, y/n, what are you talking about?” he looks at you, a glint of confusion in his eyes as he completely ignores the boy next to you.
your hands finally release from soobin’s nametag as you turn to fully face your boss, trying your absolute hardest not to scan his entire body. what was someone so attractive and close to your age even doing owning a coffee shop like this? I mean, you know he’s slightly older. graduated too. but shouldn’t he be the manager at a best buy or something? better yet, working a modeling job?
stupid kang taehyun.
stupid kang taehyun and his stupid black tee that just so happens to be tightly clinging onto his–
“y/n?” taehyun snaps you out of your trance while soobin snickers to himself behind you, pretending to make himself busy with a random cup.
“huh?” you ask, completely dumbfounded and a little embarrassed.
“why do you need more hours? you’re already scheduled every day this week.”
oh right. “oh, um, well you guys know me…” you start, “always working...” the chime of the door sounds again as a trio of customers walk in. taehyun gives soobin a look, signaling him to handle the small crowd as he grabs your hand to take you to the backroom. you don’t even have time to digest what’s happening or the dizziness that’s suddenly consuming you because taehyun immediately continues his light scolding.
“y/n, I know i’m your boss but i’m not a shitty one,” he says with a sad look, “I know you still have classes, so you don’t have to worry too hard about the cafe, okay?”
“no, I promise it’s okay! I don’t mind helping you, really.” you explain, quickly shaking your head, “it could be busy too and I know the feeling of having to handle it alone…” taehyun sighs at you, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t really point out. at least not until his next words:
“ah, you’re too sweet to me, what am I gonna do with you?”
your eyes widen, blinking quickly as you mentally remind yourself to scream into your pillow about this later. how do you even respond? why was he looking at you like that? maybe you’re overthinking. does he talk to soobin this way?!
“um… g-give me a promotion?” you joke, trying to distract yourself from whatever just happened.
…
“alright, get back to work.”
“are you absolutely positively sure you’re okay with taking my shift?” soobin asks for the hundredth time over the phone.
“yes, soobin, now please go get ready before I punch you for making your date wait.” after a few more minutes of bickering (and lots of complaining from soobin’s end), you end the call. you guess you could say the angels were on your side since it was extremely quiet tonight. since there weren’t many customers, taehyun had excused himself to run a few errands. he told you to call him if a large crowd ever showed up. but they didn’t. only a few customers here and there. you spent most of your time scrolling through tiktok and seeing if there was anything you could restock.
you start trying to remember if you restocked the toilet paper already before your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door chime. you look up to see your boss, dressed in a different black tee, looser this time, and a pair of sweatpants.
great.
“taehyun? you’re back already?” you ask, trying your hardest to keep yourself composed.
“mhm, I finished my errands a while ago, just went home to get into some comfortable clothes if that’s okay with you.”
“oh, no it’s okay!” you shake your head, “never thought i’d uh– see my boss in sweatpants but here we are.” taehyun lets out a light chuckle before joining you behind the front counter. he pulls a fancy notebook out of the drawer and begins writing inside. whatever it is, it’s probably business owner things since it looks quite important.
“so, uh, do you know what was so important for soobin tonight?” he asks, eyes still locked on the paper.
“he’s on a date tonight~” you respond, slightly exaggerating your words in a teasing manner. taehyun’s hand freezes and his eyes immediately shoot up to look at you. “a date?” he questions. you nod, a bit confused at his reaction.
“but I thought you two…” he trails off while looking somewhere else. anywhere else but you.
your eyes widen in disbelief. soobin? you? and soobin? I mean sure, the guy is handsome, but he was like an annoying brother more than anything. “huh?! no– no, me and soobin are just friends!”
…
“ah, that’s a relief…”
you freeze. taehyun was a good-looking guy. you’ve witnessed customer after customer try to flirt with him multiple times but he usually didn’t go along with it. instead, he would give a blunt answer that would leave you snickering in the background.
but with you, things were different. it started with small compliments on your performance, then your personality, then maybe one or two about how you did your hair that day. then it turned into long glances from afar and warm smiles. and now, it’s these comments that he keeps making. comments that are making you feel like you’re one more word away from exploding.
taehyun was silent for a while, taking a moment to find the right words. “actually, i’ve been meaning to tell you something, and I hope you don't mind me being honest.” turning to give your full attention to him, you nod and wait for him to continue.
“over time, i’ve come to realize that I really really like you, y/n. not just as my employee, but as a person too. you bring so much joy to this place, I can't help but feel drawn to you."
his words leave you in shock, your mouth gaped and your hands sweaty. you can’t even come up with anything to say, but he wasn’t finished yet.
“and you work so hard. so hard to the point where it leaves me conflicted. because sometimes I wish you would just give yourself a break, but I also wake up every morning excited to see you again…”
“i’m sorry if this is crossing the line, and I understand whatever decision you decide to make after this. I appreciate the relationship we had, no matter what happens."
you smile warmly, taking a few steps closer to taehyun, making him flustered in the process. you reach out to grab his hands and rub them with your thumb. ”I really really like you too, tae, you have no idea.”
taehyun smiles widely at your confession and your nickname for him before hiding his face in your neck, letting out one of his famous cute noises. “oh? who knew my boss was such a softie?” you let out playfully. “don’t tell soobin.” he whispers, making you laugh. taehyun removes himself from your neck to cherish the sight of your smile, one of his hands reaching up to rest on your cheek.
“is this okay, darling?”
“more than okay.”
you both lean in to finally press your lips together. the kiss is soft and sweet, filled with the unspoken words you two had been sharing through glances and gestures. as the kiss becomes deeper, your arms wrap around his neck loosely and his arms wrap around your waist to pull you even closer. the two of you are so wrapped up in each other that you don’t even hear the familiar chime of the door.
“guess who just had the worst date eve– OH MY GOD”
#txt imagine#txt imagines#txt x reader#txt x you#txt fluff#txt x oc#taehyun imagines#taehyun x reader#soobin x reader#soobin imagines#beomgyu imagines#beomgyu x reader#yeonjun imagines#yeonjun x reader#huening kai imagines#huening kai x reader#txt soft thoughts#txt soft hours#txt scenarios#txt headcanons#txt reactions#txt drabbles#txt series#txt fanfic#txt fic#taehyun fluff#taehyun fic
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dating 90s/00s eminem …
masterlist 𓆩♱𓆪
kim and hailie don’t exist in this universe
start and development of relationship
i definitely imagine him to take notice of you at one of the underground rap battles roughly 1992/1993
your friend who was interested in going dragged you along one night cause they were really into rap and hip hop
and there you saw him! the one and only marshall marthers destroying every opponent that stood before him
after the battles came to an end you were already attracted to him and tried to get to him to talk to him
here’s how i think it would go:
‘hey, i just wanted to tell you that you absolutely killed it on stage. it’s my first time here so i lack certain knowledge but i know enough to know that you have an incredible talent’
‘thank you. your first time? what’s your name?’
‘y/n’
‘eminem. marshall mathers’
i imagine you to awkwardly shake hands. like i know you’re in the detroit underground scene but neither of you knew how to proceed
‘i hope this won’t be a shot in the dark but can i give you my number?’ your mind literally racing
‘sure, i’ll give you a call if i’m interested’
THIS MAN TURNS AROUND AND DIALS YOUR NUMBER AND LETS YOU ANSWER!! turning around with a smirk and just straight up low key flirting with you
he was embarrassed to bring you to his home but you eventually just showed up one day cause he wasn’t returning calls—you reassured him that you didn’t care and let slip that you loved him no matter what
marshall was definitely a bit overwhelmed at first and took him like a minute to snap out of his trance because it was most likely the first time he truly felt loved, appreciated and cared for
you supported him and his music until he was eventually signed
everyone was confused why you stayed with a man who wrote violent lyrics especially about his wife so you had to explain over and over again that the wife was fictional
and everyone that truly knew marshall knew that he would never lay a hand on you. he would rather d!e than hurt you
three years after you meet you become pregnant and were scared he was going to leave (news flash he didn’t)
he reassured you that if you wanted to keep the baby that you two would figure it out and that he would and could never ever leave your side
you married quick and definitely rushed it but it proved to be the best decision you made including keeping the baby
this lead to the birth of your beautiful daughter—for some reason the name romy jane won’t leave my mind so i’ll just leave it at that
anyway you blink and stardom surrounds marshall
a few hiccups occurred during the relationship but nothing major and you always managed to talk things trough
what the relationship would include
his hand would alway be on your waist! no matter if you’re on his lap, standing next to him or whatever, his hand will be at its rightful place
i believe he prefers cheek and jaw kisses. he loves a good forehead kiss and hand kiss when he’s emotional and talking to you about certain struggles
speaking of struggles; he would always and i mean always put on his strong persona for you but sometimes his walls would crumble and would cry into your shoulder holding you so tight like you’re about to slip from his grasp
you would make appearances in a few music videos
he would also prefer to be in the studio alone but brings you along when all demos are done to get your opinion because he values it a lot (low key more than dres)
of course you would be his main inspiration for a lot of songs, also you daughter, because he admires both of you so much
marshall is 100% a very jealous and possessive man. not overbearing but maybe a little more intense than the average man? he trusts you fully but not others. he doesn’t forbid you of anything but will always say and do stuff to let others know that you’re off limits
i imagine after you got married he got a tattoo of your face or name on his chest like right over his heart
likes holding hands in public and an occasional kiss but nothing more. he prefers his affection to be reserved for only you and not the world
ONLY refers to you as ‘my girl’. when he’s with friends he’d say stuff like ‘yo, where is my girl?’. and others would also refer to you as ‘his girl’. at one point you just got the nickname ‘slim’s girl’ or ‘shady’s girl’ depending on which you prefer
tries to keep you away from hollywood and only goes for recordings, shows etc. when he’s done you both leave for detroit to lead a somewhat quiet life
definitely will buy you a lot of gifts. sometimes expensive or cheap; something that reminds him of you or something he knows you want. he just feels like showering you with gifts. his love language is giving gifts or acts of service. he will watch your favourite show just because you like it
em will always thank you in his speeches!! something along the lines of ‘first of all thank you to dr. dre and my two beautiful girls who i love with my entire heart. you two are my world, i love you!’
but like you don’t understand he will always thank you. he could win a life time supply of soap and he would say your name with pride…he’s just so grateful to have you and to be able to call you family
would hold your bag/bags for you. marshall gives you princess treatment without realising bc he genuinely wants to do it. he will snatch those bags out of your hands before you can protest
when other artists or people take your name or your daughter’s name into their mouths with negative connotations you best believe em will rip them apart, so most people will never attack you or romy bc it’s a death sentence
people can call him lame, bad rapper, ugly, whatever they feel like but as soon as anyone mentions a hair on you or romy’s bodies…it’s over. careers are shredded…you love it though
if you are a girl who likes to get her nails done this is for you; at first you started asking him to choose a design and colour and at first he was confused but he learned to love it especially when you scratched his head or your hands around his yknow what…he even once tried to design some and you got it done
the sex is a mix of mildy rough and vanilla. sometimes you both need something a little more “agressive” but he also needs a calm session. i see it kind as a light switch: it’s either rough or vanilla, occasionally you mix it but it turns out one way or another
also the man is a sucker (pun) for head. like he loves your mouth on him. i genuinely believes it’s in his top 2 favourite sexual activities (don’t deny it i’m right)
extra: if you love marshall right and you two work, it will be both of yours best love, but if things don’t work they can quickly turn into a relationship from hell
#eminem#eminem imagine#eminem headcanon#eminem imagines#eminem fanfic#eminem fanfiction#eminem x reader#eminem x you#eminem x y/n#90s#00s#marshall mathers#marshall mathers imagine#marshall mathers imagines#marshall mathers headcanon#marshall mathers fanfic#marshall mathers fanfiction#marshall mathers x reader#marshall mathers x you#marshall mathers x y/n
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The Green Light
Price/FReader - somnophilia, cnc
MDNI/18+
AO3 - Comments/Reblogs lovingly appreciated
+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+
John had been on four planes, three trains, two boats, and a goddamn moped to make it back home tonight, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in a real bed. He could feel all of his bones individually, and they all ached in their own unique ways. He was bruised, limping, and wearing a shiner on one eye, battered to the point of agony. But still, despite his emotional, mental, and physical exhaustion; all he could think about was what color panties you had on.
It had started as a joke. You’d been watching some television show where the characters used the red-light, green-light system for getting down and dirty, and you’d suggested wearing bright green panties for when you wanted John to wake you up with his cock. Jokes turned into flirting, and flirting turned into an online purchase, and now, you were able to call him to action while you were fast asleep.
He’d been hesitant at first, but after you pinky promised that you’d tell him to stop if you wanted him to stop, he agreed to try it out. When he’d packed his bags to go back to his duty, you’d tucked one of your brand new green thongs into the side pocket, leaving him a clear message for when he came back. Now, as he walked in the house, he would kill to see those bright green frills tucked beneath his sheets, and he was hungry to taste your warm hole with his tongue.
John shed his gear bag and jacket at the door. He desperately needed a shower, but he was too eager, too needy. He made his way directly to your bedroom and peered into the dark. You were sound asleep, half in and half out of the duvet, making soft snuffling sounds against his pillow. You wanted to know the moment that he was home safe. So, there you were, sprawled and waiting for him.
He shucked off his pants and shirt, making himself naked in front of your sleeping form. John was already growing harder, and with each deep, sleepy breath, he hungered more and more to get a taste of your body. His eyes raked over your scantily clad form. The blanket was covering too much of you to tell him what you were wearing, but he knew it wasn't much. Your neck was bare down to your back, and your shapely calves led up to juicy, unclothed thighs. With a careful hand, John slowly tugged the blanket up over your ass, and he prayed to any god who would listen that your panties were garishly green.
The sigh that left his lungs struggled to escape, constricted by his gasping throat as he saw that you were clad in a neon green, crotchless bodysuit. It was so over the top, and such a departure from your cozy, comfy persona that he knew you’d picked it out on purpose, just for him, just for his return.
You snored a little and readjusted yourself, causing Price to step back, not wanting to wake you. But, as you did, the duvet slipped off of you and John could read the words you’d written in black sharpie before you’d gone to bed. Across your belly, just above your panty line, you’d scrawled, “Welcome home!” and added hearts leading down to your freshly shaven pussy.
John felt all of the blood in his enormous body rush to where it was needed: his heavy, throbbing cock.
Your center was uncovered in the crotchless outfit, and your folds gleamed in the dim light of the bedroom. You were wet, perhaps by your own hand earlier in the night, and John bent down to get a closer look. Gingerly, he used his fingers to gently press apart your lips, finding your core warm and ready for him. He let his thick digits slide into position, and he began to slowly massage lazy, easy circles into your walls.
Goddamn you were pliant. Your body’s willingness to cede to his heavy petting made him groan deeply, catching himself so he wouldn’t wake you up. As he pushed his fingers into you, your muscles eased. Usually, they were tight and tense, eager to come and excited to feel his presence. But now, you were asleep, ignorant of his work in your conscious mind, and only your body was available to communicate with him.
So, it did. Your body loosened you, relaxing your walls. It made your groin swell, filling it with blood. It sent him your wetness, letting him know all of his desires were welcome in you. He put his mouth to your clit, suckling on you as gently as he could, daring to taste your sweetness as he fingered you in your sleep. As you became slick enough to fuck in earnest on his hand, he created the most outrageous noises, sticky and milky, playing in your come with greedy joy, licking you over and over again, until he could feel you trembling beneath his mouth. You moaned, and he slowed his efforts, trying to determine if you were truly asleep. You went back to your deep breathing, and John decided it was now or never.
He mounted you like an animal, looming over you like a predator does to its prey, his huge shoulders and triceps bulging as he situated himself on the mattress. His breathing had become labored, and as he dipped the head of his cock into your pulsing hole, he let out a long, ragged sigh of relief.
You moaned again, involuntarily squeezing your walls around him, reacting in the way nature intended, shameless and bold in your sleeping want. You felt like heaven, like the most comforting embrace. And for a man weary with pain, being cradled by you in the soft petals of your flower was like being magically healed. He felt the plump head of his cock drag itself along your core, slipping through your relaxed wetness easily, searching for the bottom of your warm pool, sinking into you like a stone in a still pond, crashing through the silky embrace of your body.
John aimed to fuck you so slowly that you wouldn’t wake up until the very end. He wanted to see how far he could go, and he needed to show you how surely he trusted you. This was something you’d needed from him, and now that he knew how your body would react to his work, he hungered for it, too.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy you when you were awake and participating. You were excellent in bed, and you made him feel overcome with ecstasy nearly every time you fucked each other. But, there was something so innocent and honest about your sleeping form. Your unconscious body couldn’t hold itself back. If it was hungry for him, he would know it. Your body would feed itself to him; the ultimate submission. The responsibility and trust you’d given him was immense, and the honor of it felt better than any medal he’d ever pinned to his uniform.
He fucked you a little faster, making an effort not to distract you from your slumber, and he noticed your body was positively flooding your pussy with lubrication. You were about to come, he realized, and he watched, wide-eyed, as it happened.
Your body didn’t tense as it normally did. Instead, you rode your orgasm like a low wave, gently riding across the roiling, tumbling sea that was bursting within you. You nearly wet yourself from the outpouring of your slick, soaking John’s cock and matting the dense hair around his base. You were whimpering sweetly for him in an ancient tongue, one that society had suppressed. It was so natural to hear, and so pure. John reveled in you like Bacchus, slaking his thirst with your come, unable to sate his hedonism with just one taste. He wanted it all.
He tried to hold it together, but he heard himself whimpering above you, struggling to keep himself from following you into the pleasure-filled abyss.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered below his breath. He felt himself wanting to scream out your name, to wake you, to call you to join him in this joyful work, but he buried it somewhere deep in his throat, grunting darkly for you instead with each and every thrust.
Then, you moaned more intensely, and he knew you were stirring awake. He wanted to slow down, to lull you back to sleep, but his body was no longer under his command. It thrust him into you, loose like a hound off-leash, rushing and pounding with a singular purpose.
“John?” You whispered, trying to understand what was happening to you.
“Fuck, m’sorry, love,” he moaned, the words slurred and malformed, “Couldn’t wait. Had to have you. Right fuckin’ now.”
Your mind fed you all the pleasure you’d been missing, slamming into your brain all at once, and he felt the result. You bared down on him harder than you’d ever done before, your pussy clenching around his cock, making it almost impossible for him to move. The wet, supple friction that slipped across his hard rod was just what he needed to come, and you wrenched it from him, stealing it with your unimaginable fury of pleasure.
He gasped, unable to control his reactions,
“Oh! Oh, fuck! I’m… I’m gonna come. Fuck, I’m gonna come.”
You couldn’t say anything; you were blinded by your climax, feeling the waves of euphoria crash into you over and over, washing you in deep, a rapturous sea. John’s cock was so deep within you, making you feel so full, and since he had made you so soft and ready for him, your pleasure hit you as hard as it could.
As he filled you, you heard him beg for something he couldn’t name,
“Please, love… Fuck. Fuck. Bloody hell, please. Please…”
“Come in me, John,” you coaxed him, angling your hips so he could sink himself deeper into your center, “I want to feel you come in me. Please.”
He turned you onto your side and repositioned himself so that he could fuck you as your big spoon, wrapping you in his arms and locking you in place, trapping you against him as he bucked. As he did, he clutched at you cruelly, trying to channel all of his reserved energy into a last-moment’s effort. Now that you were awake, he could slam himself into you with abandon, and you felt him lose control of his movements. He was shaking your whole body, making your bones shudder beneath his huge weight, crafting sticky, popping, slapping noises as he slammed skin into glorious skin.
Finally, he stuttered in his pounding, and your pussy stretched with the tell-tale throb of his heavy cock as it pulsed from dumping rope after rope of cream into your hole. You could feel it filling you, hot and thick. His eyes were clenched shut, unable to face the unearthly passion you had wrought together.
“Welcome home, baby,” you kissed his hand gently, running your nails along his heavy forearm, earning yourself another tremulous groan.
He smiled at you, riding out his high in your dripping hole,
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”
#call of duty fanfic#cod mw2#cod mwii#captain john price#captain price#john price#captain price x reader#cod#captain price x you
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girllll can you please write a smut about churchboy!mark x fem!reader <33
NICE BOY; MARK LEE
pairings. churchboy!mark x fem!reader
wc. 1k
warnings. dom!mark , oral (m. recieving), face fucking , unprotected sex (he pulls out) , degrading, doggy style, crying
i hope you like it <3 !
everybody dotes on mark , his innocent church boy facade has blinded everyone , but you see it , you see right past him ...
—
you huff , watching your parents crowd around mark along with the other parents after service , rolling your eyes as he bats his eyelashes , speaking so kindly... like he wasn't drunkenly sticking his tongue down some random girls throat last night , just like he does every weekend.
mark is a good actor for sure , he was able to put up this act , this good boy next door and everyone ate it up like crazy , maybe you were jealous because almost slipped past your overbearing parents , but they couldn't see the mask that he was wearing.
"＿ , come." your mother called you over , you sighed , unfolding your arms , walking over to them. "yes mother." you said. "mark will be joining us for dinner tonight , his parents are staying for the extra service." the boy stood in front of you , that boyish smile. "i want you to give him a good welcome into our home , make him feel at home." you wanted to scream. "could you not do it." you said.
your mom glared at you , her eyes piercing your skin. "fine." your mother went back to smiling. "good , now why don't you two go wait in the car , me and your father will be out shorty." she handed you the keys , "be a good girl." you could see mark smirking out the corner of your eye.
you guys made it to the car , opening the door , climbing in. "i saw you glaring at me." mark finally spoke as soon as you closed the door. "yeah , that's because i don't like you." you reached over , turning the car on , music lowly playing on the radio , sitting back in your seat. "that's too bad , i think your pretty cool." you rolled your eyes.
"drop the act mark , you might have your parents and the church fooled but im not dumb." you scoffed. "what did i do?" mark wasn't offended , he just wanted to fuck with you. "that innocent act you put on annoys the fuck out of me , because you have everyone eating out the palm of your hand , when in reality you were struggling to stand yesterday , as you shoved your tongue in yeeun's or god knows where else." you hissed.
it was silent for a second , you thought you actually might've hurt his feelings , until he spoke again. "are you upset at that?" he started , "or is it because it's not you that im sticking my tongue in." he was real close , whispering in your ear , making you shiver , mark noticed this , smirking. "i think we've come to actual reason you're pissed , you want me to fuck you." you turned to him , disgust evident on your face. "in your dreams mark lee."
"i mean yeah you are , but im glad to know im in yours too." he kissed your cheek , you wiped it , making him laugh. "come on , no one's around , you don't have to pretend you hate me anymore." he said. "im not pretending." you smiled. "oh really , what if i just." his hand creeping up your thigh , you sighed , breathing picking up. "you mean to tell me you won't be wet as fuck." he bit his lip. "n..no." you tried to remain strong , but he could tell he was just inches away from breaking you. "okay , let's see." before you could say anything , he ran his thumb down your covered slit , you bit your lip as a act of defiance.
"tsk , i see you're a brat , i like brats , i love breaking them down into mindless sluts." he pulled his hand from under your dress. "fix yourself , your parents are coming." and just like that , he turned that innocent persona back on just as your parents opened the door , getting into the car. "i hope we didn't keep you waiting long mark , hoping our daughter hasn't been too much of nuisance." he smiled turning to you , his eyes dark with lust.
"no ma'am , she been such a good girl."
the ride home was nothing short of torturous , mark was sitting close to you , the sweet way he talked to your parents about the service , was a completely contrast to how he was toying with you , sneaking his hands up your skirt , playing with your clit through your panties , occasionally smirking when you bit your fist , or cover your mouth , looking out the window , trying not to moan , your parents not suspecting a thing.
"＿ , why aren't you talking?" your dad said. "because im not intrested." your mother called out your name. "stop acting like that , be kind to mark , you could learn a lot from a nice boy like him." you scoffed , "nice boy my a- shit!" you glared at mark because he pinched your thigh , causing your outburtst. "＿ ! we don't talk like that , what's wrong with ?" your mother questioned just as you pulled into your driveway. "let's just drop it , let's hurry inside , i have to prepare dinner."
as soon as you walked in , taking your shoes off , you beelined it to the steps. "young lady , where are you going?" your mother said. "upstairs , can i not do that?" you stated. "loose the attitude , and take mark with you." your draw dropped. "you barely allow haechan to sit on the couch , let alone go to my room alone." you exclaimed. "that's because who knows what you two will get up to up there , mark is a good boy , we trust him." you were about to say something , when your dad spoke up , "hurry the game is on , and i can't hear."
you looked at the boy , who sat there smiling , you just knew he was eating this up. "come on , don't just stand there." you stomped up the stairs , him following close behind you. "don't touch anything , just sit in the bed." you opened your bedroom door , letting him in , shutting the door.
"oh what's this." you turned around , your eyes widening as mark held your underwear in his hand. "these don't cover much do they , pretty sexy though." you snatch them out of his hands , stuffing them back into the drawer. "i told you not to touch anything." you snapped. "they were right there." he leaned back , manspreading , your eyes travelled down to his thighs.
"princess , my eyes are up here." he smirked. "unless , it's something you want down there. "like it could even get me to cum." you snorted , this must've pissed mark off. "get over here." his voice dropped a few octaves , shocking you, it turned you on a little. "now." you decided to play with him a bit now. "you want to listen to some music?" you turned on your speaker , turning on your favorite playlist. "i need to get out of this dress." you walked towards your bathroom , but mark was quicker , grabbing your arm , pulling you in between his thighs.
"you don't think i can't get you to cum?" he scoffed , "how about you ask yeeun." you rolled your eyes. "she's easy to please." you snapped back. "and you aren't , rubbing you through your panties had you biting your fist , trying not to moan like a slut on front of your parents." he hissed , unzipping your dress , pulling your dress down. "mark!"
"get on your knees." he said , you ignored him. "okay." he pushed you down to your knees , in between his legs. "i guess i do have to treat you like a rag doll." he unbuckled his pants , pushing them down enough , pulling his cock out. he was huge , definitely bigger than anyone you've ever taken. "i see the gears turning in that head of yours , i know it's big , i want you to take it all." he said. "i can't." he scoffed.
"i don't care , you were all big and bad before , but now you're too scared to take it , come on be a big girl." he grabbed your hair , making it into a makeshift ponytail , guiding his cock to your mouth , slapping his tip on your lips. "open." you obeyed and he immediately pushed your head down on it , guiding you all way down. "shit , that's it , take all of it." you gagged around him , struggling to take him.
"tsk , useless slut , come on take it all." he pushed your head all the way down on him. "that's it , now sit there on your knees and let me fuck your face." he groaned , as he bucked his hips up into your mouth , "fu..fuck your throat feels so good , taking my cock like a good slut." he held your head down on his cock.
"oh yeah , fuck im gonna cum all down your throat." you looked at him through your teary lashes , his head was thrown back as he gripped your hair. "oh fuck!" he pushed your head down , his cum flooding your throat , pushing your head off , coughing , mascara running down your face. "look at you , such a messy whore." he grabbed your arm , pulling you off the floor , basically throwing your body against your bed.
"ass up , now." you complied , fully submitted to him now. "look at you , you were being disrespectful to me , being a brat , now your so ready to be fucked by me." he pushed his pants all the way down. his legs dipped into the bed. "fucking slut." he slapped your ass. "shit mark!" you yelped.
"shut the fuck up , the last thing i need is your mother coming in , and seeing me whore her daughter out." he pulled your panties down , your pussy glistening. "such a messy pussy , this is crazy , i knew it , you just wanted me to fuck you , that's why you were acting like that." he hissed , running his cock up and down your folds. "mark , please." you wiggled your hips against him , he squeezed your ass. "come on slut , beg some more , i know you can do it."
"pl..please fuck me mark , please , i'll be good." you sounded pathetic , it made his cock harder , he slapped your ass one more , pushing his cock all the way inside you , your mouth dropping open. "fuck , such a tight cunt." he pulled out , slamming back into you. "mark." you hid your face in the pillow to cover your moans, as he roughly fucked into you.
"fucking clenching my dick , i thought i couldn't get you to cum , here you are about to cum already." he pushed down on your back , hitting a deeper spot. "i..im gonna cum." you whined , he smirked. "go a head and cum slut , cum for me." he slapped your ass as you came around him , biting the pillow to keep from screaming.
"shit." he cursed pulling out , flipping you over on to your back , lining his cock back up with your sensitive cunt. "ma..mark." you couldn't take him anymore. "oh no baby , im gonna make you cum until your mom calls for dinner." he pushed into you , your hands flying to your mouth , suppressing a scream , your back lifting off the bed as he fucked you.
"fu..fucking cunt is sucking me in , you claim you hate me , but your pussy is telling a different story." he trusted into you over and over , hips slapping against yours , a moan slipped out , he reached over , his hand coming up to throat , squeezing lightly. "i guess this is the only one to shut you up." he hissed , groaning himself , his orgasm inching up on him.
your eyes were rolled to back of your head , makeup ruined by your tears as the boy everyone was so innocent ruined your body. "look at you -shit- all fucked out by the person you claim to hate , gonna let me cum all over you , let the person you hate cum all over your body." you nodded dumbly. "cum first , cum on my cock again slut." you rubbed your clit , your mouth dropped open , but nothing came out as you came on his cock for the second time. "sh..shit , im gonna cum." he pulled out , tugging at his cock a few times , his cum spurting out , landing on your stomach and chest. "fuck."
both of you were breathless , chest heaving up and down , covered in sweat. "still hate me?" you wanted to kick him. "fu..fuck you." he smirked. "your mom hasn't call down yet." he rubbed his cock along your folds , you stopped , pushing at his hips. "i..i can't." you couldn't take another round , he laughed , just as you heard your mothers voice ,from downstairs.
"you're lucky this time, you need to fix yourself , wouldn't want your mom to see you like this." he put his clothes back on. "i'll see you down there princess." he winked , leaving out of your room , making his way downstairs.
"where is she?" your mouth ask as he sat down , he imagined you struggling to get dressed , your legs were probably wobbly and sore. he smiled , turning to your mother with the most innocent smile.
"she said she wanted to change into something more comfortable , she will be down shortly."
©️LUVYENI
#nct dream x reader#nct dream smut#nct dream hard thoughts#nct dream hard hours#nct hard thoughts#nct hard hours#nct fic#nct dream fic#mark lee hard hours#mark lee x reader#mark lee hard thoughts#mark lee smut#mark lee fic
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Could I request a Leighton x reader one shot where Leighton just recently came out and is new to the whole lesbian flirting thing so she tries to find out if reader is gay with the help of questionable internet advice?
Gaydar Issues
Description: Leighton is new to the Essex queer community and unlike her confident persona, she has no idea how to flirt. She meets Reader and develops a crush on her. She should not have gone to her roommates for help.
WARNINGS: fluffy as fuck, leighton being a gay baby, her roommates being dumb, leighton gay panicking.
Okay.
In hindsight, Leighton knew she shouldn't have gone to her roommates for queer flirting advice.
She had no other options.
Let's recap.
Ever since Leighton came out, she had found it difficult to talk to women in person and not behind a screen. She was two different people.
One had a seductive aura, luring her hookups in with a single smirk and making them see stars by the end of the night.
The other was a shy, nervous girl who had no idea how to flirt.
Leighton was struggling. She had tried to talk to Nico about it but him being a guy, gave her flirting tips that he does, which were gross. She tried to talk to Willow about it but the girl was no help. She flirted with athletes, who she had something in common with.
That was it! Leighton just needed to find someone who had something in common with her! Easy peasy.
Plot twist: it's not so easy peasy.
Leighton had decided to scout out her math class to see if she had any hot female students in there with her. She had one, and she had already hooked up with her and didn't really feel anything with her.
It had gotten to a point where Leighton was starting to give up, but as she walked out of class, she saw the most gorgeous girl talking to Bela, of all people.
Leighton froze as she looked at the girl. She was stunning, the smile she was giving Bela was melting Leighton's heart. The girl had on some black skinny jeans, white converse, a white crop top and a jean jacket on.
Leighton could tell she had great fashion sense, even if the outfit was casual. She could hear her laugh from where she stood and it became her favorite sound in the world. Before she could go over and introduce herself, the girl hugged Bela and walked the other direction.
Bela began walking towards Leighton as the blonde fell in step behind her.
"Hey Bela! How are you today?"
Bela looked at Leighton confused but played along. "I'm...fine. Leighton, are you okay? You never ask about my day." The blonde smiled at her. "What are you talking about? I always ask about your day. I had a question."
Bela laughed, "There it is." Leighton rolled her eyes. "That girl you were talking to, who was she?"
Bela smirked. "That's Y/N. I'm trying to get her to join my comedy club. Girl is hilarious." Leighton nodded. "Yeah. Could you introduce me?"
Bela smiled. "Ooh does someone have a crush?" Leighton blushed hard. "Bela! Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I have a crush on every girl!." Bela smirked again. "Yeah, yeah. I'll introduce you."
The next day, Leighton was walking across the campus courtyard when her name was yelled. She turned to see Bela and Y/N walking towards her. She instantly got nervous as the duo approached her. She straightened herself up and smiled at the two.
"Hey Bela!" The duo reached her as Bela held out an arm. "Y/N, this is Leighton. Leighton, this is Y/N, the newest member of my comedy club!" Y/N stuck her hand out for Leighton to shake. The blonde shook it, thinking about how soft her hands were before snapping back.
"Congrats! Bela was telling me how funny you are!" Y/N blushed. "Thank you! It's so nice to finally meet you! Bela has told me a lot about you, though she didn't mention how pretty you are."
Leighton's jaw dropped. A blush took over her features as she stuttered on her words. Y/N smirked and looked at Bela. "I'll see you later okay? Bye guys!" She walked off as Bela stared at Leighton shocked.
"Leighton. Are you blushing?" Leighton shook herself off and glared at Bela. "I am not!" She stomped off as Bela smirked. She pulled her phone out and texted Whitney and Kimberly.
"Leighton needs an intervention."
Leighton didn't know what to expect when she got back to her dorm, but it wasn't her roommates staring at her. It scared the shit out of her. "What the hell are you guys doing?" Kimberly gestured to the couch. "Please sit."
Leighton sat and looked at them confused. "What is happening?" Whitney sighed. "Leighton, it's come to our attention that you don't know how to talk to girls. We are here to help you."
Leighton's jaw dropped as she slowly turned to glare at Bela. "You told?!" Bela sighed. "I'm sorry! But you need help. Y/N is so into you!" Leighton glared at Bela. "Do you know if she's even gay?" Bela sat silently for a few seconds. "Uhh...no?"
Leighton pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.
Whitney decided to save Bela. "She told us Y/N called you pretty! That's a sign, right?" Leighton directed her glare to Whitney now. "Girls call each other pretty all the time Whitney!"
Kimberly, ever the voice of reason, finally spoke. "Leighton, I think for now, talk to her, get to know her, and then maybe if she's comfortable, she'll tell you. But don't just outright ask her. So that way, if she isn't, you can remain friends."
The room was silent for a moment before Whitney and Bela voiced their disagreement of the plan and began to bicker about how Leighton should handle it.
Leighton was stuck on Kimberly's words. "Talk to her." "Get to know her"
That's what Leighton was going to do.
She spotted Y/N the next day walking out of the library and quickened her pace to catch up. "Y/N!" The girl turned and saw Leighton. A bright smile came across her face as she waved. "Hi Leighton! How are you?" Leighton fell into step with Y/N. "I'm good! I actually wanted to ask you something."
Y/N nodded. "Ask away." Leighton took a deep breath and asked the question. "Do you maybe wanna hang out, later? We can study together in the library. If you want!" Y/N blushed and nodded. "Yeah, sure! Can I get your number?"
Leighton felt her heart rate increase. She handed her phone over to Y/N, who put her number in quickly before handing it back. "Text me when you wanna meet up later." Leighton nodded before the girl smiled at the blonde and walked off.
Leighton fought the urge to do a happy dance.
Step one, done.
After a few weeks of hanging out with Y/N, Leighton discovered she was down badly for this girl. The more they hung out, the more Leighon's crush grew. Her roommates tried to hype her up to ask the girl out, but she didn't want to embarrass herself.
It all came to a head one day at lunch, the day that the roommates deemed, "their baby gay grew up".
Leighton was sitting at the table with her roommates eating lunch when Y/N approached. "Hey guys!" The girls greeted Y/N, not so subtly looking at Leighton, who blushed.
"Hi Leighton." The blonde smiled and quietly said hi back. Y/N cleared her throat. "If you weren't doing anything tonight, would you maybe wanna go to dinner and a movie tonight? I know this really good burger place a few miles from school."
Leighton blushed. Her brain was unable to function and she stuttered on her words once again.
Kimberly answered for her. "She would love to! She doesn't have any plans tonight!" Y/N smiled and looked at the girl. "Great! I'll pick you up at say 6:30? Dress casual." Leighton nodded as the girl walked off.
Her roommates squealed as the girl blushed harder. "We told you she was gay! You got a date!" Leighton smiled at how happy her girls were for her, joining in on the squealing, not noticing Y/N watching with a wide grin.
When Leighton came home later that night, hearts in her eyes and swollen lips, the roommates squealed again, sitting her down and making her give them the details.
Their baby gay really had grown up.
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