#but i think that i MIGHT reach that point soon
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Fool's Gold || JJK
Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.
Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader
Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au
Word Count: 10k
Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses
“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”
Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook.
Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises.
On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month.
When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence.
“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”
He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again.
“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”
Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence.
“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”
Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”
Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”
He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously.
“I don’t know.”
Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again.
“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”
“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”
“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”
“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.
“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”
Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?”
Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”
Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him.
“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.
“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”
Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”
Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer.
“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.
Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”
Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery.
At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now.
Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love.
Only power.
The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white.
You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands.
The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle.
To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did.
He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too.
He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin.
Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head.
A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone.
Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him.
Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.
As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you.
You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month.
The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.
Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof.
Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there.
Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.
To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words.
At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be.
Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention.
A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you.
So he tried not to be unsettled.
He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning.
He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground.
He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.
Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?
-
-
-
The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance.
The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him.
It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.
Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely.
There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax.
He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat.
The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids.
“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”
The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly.
Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.
“Well?” He prodded.
Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”
Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”
“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender.
Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought.
“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly.
“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on.
“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”
Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”
Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”
“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”
Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.
“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk.
Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding.
It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons.
Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two.
“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”
The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.
“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”
Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.
“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”
To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”
Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them.
Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”
Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information.
“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant.
Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful.
A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open.
The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead.
Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space.
The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you.
You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance.
You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well.
“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him.
Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her.
“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now.
His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed.
Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights.
“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee.
Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?
“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze.
Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other.
But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything.
“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well.
You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief.
He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”
You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne.
He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous.
“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”
You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak.
Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster.
Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side.
It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.
“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands.
“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?
He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later.
“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway.
“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment.
He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”
But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again.
“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”
Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you.
You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him.
A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer.
His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.
His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look.
Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.
Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud.
“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes.
Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink.
“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.
But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions.
“Jungko-”
Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold.
“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.
Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form.
“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest.
“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.
“P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air.
Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke.
“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout.
Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now.
“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.
You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”
“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression.
He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation.
“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more.
“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”
Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”
You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”
Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”
But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous.
“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability.
“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”
The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.
“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow.
Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.
Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.
“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”
You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.
“I want a divorce.”
Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it.
It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment.
You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.
“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.
Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.
“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”
Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.
Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly.
“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump.
You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone.
“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”
He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”
Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”
It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak.
“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”
You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him.
And that was something he needed to make sure you knew.
“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”
Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”
“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick.
“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”
Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation.
It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare.
He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.
“Good, then we’re done here.”
He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.
“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”
Jungkook tilted his head in response.
“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”
Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”
He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.
Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony.
Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing.
His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze.
What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness.
But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce.
Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.
You were quite the enigma.
But he was going to enjoy the challenge.
A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!
#jungkook mafia au#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#bts x reader#jungkook fic#bts au fic#bts au#jimin#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#jungkook bts#mafia leader jungkook#bts fic#jungkook x y/n#bts series#jungkook series#jin#yoongi#namjoon#hoseok#taehyung#jungkook#seokjin#suga#rm#jhope#v#jungkook ff
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Broken Hearts. Part 5
Warnings- Cheating, manipulation, possessiveness, angst, revelations.
Lloyd's patience started to wane as he cleared his throat, “Are we going to get to the point anytime soon, Levinson?” His voice carried a hint of irritation and anticipation, echoing the collective desire for some clarity.
Ari, his ever-present charm still intact, replied with a sly smile, “I was just getting there, Lloyd. Patience is a virtue, as they say.”
Ari reached into his bag, extracting a manila folder and handed it to you, his eyes darting around the room as he shared his findings. “Well, I dug into their past, and it turns out Steve and Bucky have been friends since childhood,” he stated emphatically. His words hung in the air for a moment before he continued, “And get this, Steve has been in constant contact with Bucky ever since you left him. They've been talking frequently.”
His revelation sent a chill down your spine, the realization that Steve and Bucky had been in close contact adding a new layer of complexity to the situation. Lloyd's grip tightened around you, and Andy leaned forward, his brow furrowing in concentration. Clearly, the mention of Bucky's involvement had piqued their interest.
Ari's voice turned solemn as he continued, “And here's where it gets interesting, Steve and Bucky have a history of sharing women. They've both had a habit of pursuing the same woman, often simultaneously.”
The revelation hit you hard, and a wave of nausea washed over you. Your voice trembled as you uttered weakly, “Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick.” Lloyd's grip on you tightened, and you could practically feel the tension in the room skyrocket. You exchanged a glance with Nick, both of you silently contemplating the implications of this revelation.
“Steady now, Sugar,” Lloyd's voice carried a soothing tone, his touch offering a sense of stability. His arm wrapped protectively around you. You sunk into the cushions, still reeling from the sickening revelation, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fall into place.
Ari's voice broke through the heavy silence, “Ah, and when I dug deeper, I discovered some interesting links to Tony Stark.” The mention of Tony Stark immediately piqued everyone's attention.
“Tony is not only a significant finance partner in Steve's company but his wife, Pepper, runs a renowned charity dedicated to protecting and supporting abused women,” Ari explained. The revelation of this connection sent shockwaves through the room, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.
“With Pepper Stark being highly vocal in the fight against domestic abuse and the wrong doings against women, your separation from Steve can undoubtedly get her attention.” Ari added. The implications of this fact weighed heavily on the group, and the atmosphere grew more fraught as the web of connections became increasingly tangled.
Your voice trembled as you voiced your thoughts. “I can't believe this... Is Steve trying to save his reputation, just because he doesn't want to lose Tony as a finance partner?” The realization that Steve's motives might be driven by financial self-interest rather than genuine concern added a new layer of disappointment to the already tangled situation.
Ari shrugged nonchalantly, his expression hard to decipher. “The timing seems a bit convenient, doesn't it? I mean, considering the fact that Pepper Stark fights for domestic violence and other crimes for victims through her charity. Steve must have feared it would look bad when news of your separation spreads.”
His words left a bitter taste in your mouth, confirming your suspicions.
Ari's voice deepened as he considered the situation further. “There's something else to consider, though. We only have half the picture here because Bucky's involvement complicates things. We can't be sure if Steve's primary motivation is saving his reputation or if there's something else at play.”
The uncertainty surrounding Bucky's role in this web of connections further clouded the path forward.
Nick's voice piped up, seeking further insight. “Can you tell us more about Barnes?”
Ari nodded, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the information. “Barnes has been in London, overseeing his family's assets. His last known relationship was with a woman named Dot.”
A flicker of confusion passed over your face, as Lloyd's chuckle echoed through the room. “Dot? Seriously?” he manages to get out, his laughter barely contained. Ari nodded, confirming the name, which only seemed to amuse Lloyd further. “No exclamation or question mark?” Lloyd finally burst out laughing, struggling to contain his amusement at the name.
The tension in the room eased slightly as Lloyd's laughter broke the tension, providing a fleeting moment of levity in the midst of the heavy discussion.
“Ah, that would be Dorothea, not just Dot,” Ari clarified, his voice dripping with amusement. “So, we're talking about a full-on Dorothea situation here, not just a simple Dot.”
The revelation prompted Lloyd to release another burst of laughter, the seriousness of the situation momentarily forgotten as they all grappled with the absurdity of the name.
Andy's voice broke through the brief laughter, swiftly redirecting the conversation back on topic. “Right, enough with the laughter. Let's focus on the case, shall we? We need to understand why Bucky gave Steve the video and why they're in constant contact. And most importantly, what does Bucky want?”
Lloyd's laughter ceased immediately, and the room fell quiet as they all waited for Ari's insights.
Ari's expression turned serious once more, his earlier amusement quickly replaced by a determined resolve. “You're right, we need to figure out their motives. Bucky's involvement opens up a whole new can of worms.” he conceded.
The intensity in the room grew palpable as they all shifted focus, ready to dissect the next piece of this perplexing puzzle.
Ari takes your hands, gently squeezing them, to make you feel better. Lloyd glares at him with venom, Andy and Nick share a glance, trying to figure who Lloyd wants to kill first, Steve or Ari? Looking right now, Ari is winning.
“Tells me about Steve and Bucky…” Ari tells you and you nod, glancing at Lloyd, you feel your heart flutter. The way he looks at you, eyes soft, but jaw set, as his eyes are looking at Ari still holding your hands, just tells you, he's jealous and as you know Lloyd never gets jealous.
Ever since you left your house, Lloyd has been extra protective and caring. Always trying to cheer you up. Protect you at any cost.
You take a deep breath and tell Ari, what you shared with the boys earlier. “I swear, I don't know when he recorded us. Please believe me, I really don't know about it.” you cry hiding your face in your hands.
Nick grabs your hand, “Hey don't you worry, we have got this. Ari and I will find out more about Steve and Bucky, okay? Leave all the planning to us.” You smile in return forever grateful to them.
Time had passed, few days later, the group had gathered in Lloyd’s office, the air heavy with anticipation. Ari stood before them, his eyes gleaming with a new found idea. “I think I have something that might help,” he began, his voice filled with confidence.
Lloyd, Nick, and Andy turned their attention to Ari, silently urging him to continue.
“We can search Steve’s house and office, in his absence.”
“That is illegal!” Andy reminds him.
Ari nodded, “True, it's not strictly legal,” he conceded. “But desperate times call for desperate measures, and if we want to find some evidence against Steve, searching his office and house might be our best bet.” Ari explained, conviction evident in his voice.
Andy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, still uncertain about the implications of such action. Nick, meanwhile, leaned forward, intrigued by Ari’s suggestion.
“We need to remember the risks involved…” Nick finally interjected, his voice a mix of caution and determination. “What if we get caught? We could get into serious trouble. We need to think this through carefully.”
The group exchanged uneasy looks, each weighing the options. While desperation clawed at them, the potential consequences loomed large, making it a difficult decision to make.
A wave of unease washed over you as Ari's gaze fixed onto you. You could sense his cunning mind formulating a plan, and you braced yourself for what was to come. With a sly smile, Ari began to explain, “We need to find a way to distract Steve, and I believe you're the key to that, gorgeous.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and curiosity swirling within you. Lloyd, Nick, and Andy all exchanged knowing look. “What are you planning Levinson?” Lloyd asks.
“But…”
Ari continued, undeterred by your attempted interruption. “You call Steve and convince him to meet you in a public place, like a restaurant. He won't try anything in public. I trust that he will cooperate.”
The group fell silent, contemplating the plan. Nick and Andy both nodded in agreement, while Lloyd raised an eyebrow, skeptically.
“Alright, so Steve takes the bait and meets me in public. What happens next?” You posed the question to Ari, your voice trembling slightly. Ari's eyes sparkled with the thrill of the plan, and his lips curled into a mischievous smile.
Your heart raced as Ari explained the plan. “Jake, my hacker, will place a tiny, hidden camera and microphone under the table during your meeting with Steve. Your role is to engage him in conversation, and we hope that he'll implicitly confess his threats. Meanwhile, Nick and Jake will discreetly search his house, and Lloyd will search his office. This way, we cover multiple fronts and hope to uncover the full scope of the situation.”
Lloyd's protective instincts kicked in as he protested the plan, “Absolutely not. I'm not letting her go alone with Steve. It's too risky.” His voice was filled with concern, the thought of you being vulnerable in Steve's presence clearly troubling him.
However, Ari stood his ground, reassuring Lloyd with a firm tone. “It's the best way to draw Steve out in public. We'll have everything in place, she'll be perfectly safe. Mr and Andy will be there too.”
Your heart raced with fear, the thought of calling Steve and meeting him filling you with dread. “I don't know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice trembling with uncertainty. Lloyd, sensing your unease, reached out to comfort you. “You won't be alone,” he assured you, his voice filled with conviction.
“Please, I need some time to prepare. Give me a day,” you requested, your voice filled with apprehension.
“Of course, Sugar, take your time.” Lloyd said, giving the guys a look.
After two days… okay three days later, you decide to call Steve. Ari invites his hacker Jake Jensen.
With a deep breath, you finally picked up the phone and dialed Steve's number. Your heart was pounding, your palms were sweaty, and you could barely focus your thoughts.
For a fleeting moment, you considered hanging up, but then Steve's voice came through, his deep timbre piercing through the tension. “Hello, baby doll.” he answered cordially.
Summoning all your strength, you responded with a calm voice, “Steve, we need to meet. I have something important to discuss with you.”
Steve's laughter echoed through the line, his ego inflating at your request. “You think you can just call me and invite me to meet? That's cute,” he sneered, his words dripping with condescension. “Why would I bother meeting you, baby doll?” His demeaning remarks fueled your resolve, and you steeled yourself to stand your ground. “Just come back home like a loyal wife and we'll talk as much as you want!” He orders.
“It's important, Steve. Please, meet me. It won't take long...” you pleaded, keeping your voice steady despite the turmoil within.
After a moment of hesitation, Steve finally relented. “Fine, I'll meet you at that Italian restaurant downtown,” he said gruffly. “And make sure you're there on time. I won't wait around for you.”
Once Steve hung up, you closed your eyes, taking deep breaths to steady your nerves.
Lloyd, Nick, Andy and Ari, all huddled around you, their expressions filled with encouragement. “You did great,” Lloyd praised, a hint of pride in his voice. “We know Steve can be a handful, but you managed to get him to agree to meet.” Nick said in agreement, offering a reassuring smile. “Just focus on your plan, we'll be watching every move, remember that.” Andy chimed in; his eyes filled with concern. “Stay strong, gorgeous.” Ari tells you.
Later at night you were sitting on the kitchen counter, eating a huge tub of ice cream, when. “Hey Sugar.”
You look up and see Lloyd leaned against the wall.
“Hey you… ice cream?” you offer and instead of getting a spoon he simply opens his mouth for you to feed him, which you gladly do.
“Thank you for helping me so much Lloyd, you, Andy, Nick, Ari, Jake all of you.” you tell him, as you keep eating and feeding him, ice cream.
Lloyd chuckles, till he notices the ice cream smudged around the corner of your lips. Lloyd reached out and gently brushed his thumb over the spot, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. The casual intimacy of the gesture caught you off guard, and you found yourself blushing slightly. Lloyd smiled at you, his eyes filled with warmth and affection.
The air between you crackled with tension, the atmosphere growing more intimate. Lloyd's eyes darkened with desire as he continued to stare at your mouth. You could feel the heat radiating between you, the pull of attraction becoming harder to resist.
Leaning closer, Lloyd caressed your cheek gently, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “These lips…” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. “They drive me crazy.”
His confession hung in the air, the raw honesty of his words sending waves of excitement through you. You reached up, gently tracing your fingers along his jawline, going up his lips, feeling his moustache.
You could feel his breath hitch as your touch sent a jolt of desire through him. The proximity, the intimacy, the unspoken longing between you grew.
Without a second thought, your lips suddenly met in a fervent kiss. Your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you surrendered to the intensity of the moment. The taste of his lips was like a forbidden fruit, leaving you craving for more.
He grabs you by the hips, standing between your legs and you straddle his waist, pulling your face up with the same roughness, because you need to be closer, need to taste deeper, need to make up for whatever that was missing or not.
“Finally,” he groans.
The kiss deepened, and you became acutely aware, of the sensation of his moustache as it brushed against your upper lip. The feeling grew incredibly intimate. His moustache added a unique texture to the already passionate kiss, heightening the intensity of the moment.
You savored the way it moved against your skin, the prickly yet soothing sensations flooding your senses. It was a distinct reminder of his masculinity, adding an extra layer of desire and heat to the connection between you.
He whimpers, grinding his hips against yours, pressing his hard cock firmly against your core. “Fuck” Lloyd growls, bringing his mouth back down to yours, using his hands to push against your skin, underneath your t-shirt, cupping your breasts.
After some minutes he pulls away, “As much as I want to take you right now Sugar, we need to wait and trust me, I'm not regretting this, but you need to be prepared for me. I'm not going to take advantage of your vulnerable state.” You pout at him and he kisses you again, your brain still buzzing from the high, of finally knowing what his mouth feels.
Part 4- Part 6
Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm
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#chris evans characters#sebastian stan characters#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#steve rogers angst#steve rogers x reader angst#dark steve rogers#dark steve rogers x reader#steve rogers au#lloyd hansen fic#lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#lloyd hansen fluff#lloyd hansen smut#lloyd hansen x reader fluff#lloyd hansen x reader smutt#andy barber x reader#andy barber#nick fowler x reader#nick fowler#ari levinson#ari levinson x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes x reader
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everything about you eddie munson x reader
wc: 700
cw: fluff, bomb mention but its a metaphor, kinda rockstar!eddie but the band still isnt super popular yet
a/n: you might recognise this i wrote it for . someone else . a long time ago but i rewrote it for eddie :3
As soon as he was away from the crowd, you were all over him. Quite literally. An arm wrapped tightly around his, his hand gently holding yours. He was always gentle, said he didn���t wanna “crush your chicken bones.” Whatever that meant. Still, it was sweet.
You just couldn’t stop staring at him. His huge proud smile as he talked to friends, flushed face and long sweaty hair stuck to his skin. You admired him the whole walk to the bar. A couple times while walking, he’d turn from conversing with a bandmate, or someone else, you weren’t really paying attention. He'd stop talking just to ask how you were doing.
Besides the copious amounts of praises you shouted at the band as soon as they came off stage, you were shockingly silent for having just watched them play. You had always felt the need to compliment him and the group for days afterwards, so your silence slightly worried him. Each time he asked, you’d just give him the most love sick smile he's even seen, and respond with something along the lines of, “absolutely perfect, my love.'' When you finally get to the dingy bar and have the chance to sit down, he turns his full body towards you to have a proper conversation. Sat in the middle of a round booth, one arm above you and the other on the table, effectively caging you in. Upon making undivided eye contact with him, you make a strangled squeal sound. slapping your hand over your mouth, you’re embarrassed of your unbridled want.
“What is going on with you,” he questions with an amused smirk, reaching to remove your hand from your face, “barely said a word since we left the venue.”
“You did so, so good,” you responded with big doe eyes. It definitely wasn't an answer to his question.
“You've said that already, my darling, thank you very much,” if he hadn’t known any better he would think you were already drunk, “but really, i’d like an answer to the question.”
you huff through your nose, and look at him for a moment longer, trying to collect your thoughts. Trying to explain that nothing is wrong, he is just so incredibly sexy that you feel like you’re a ticking time bomb. The anxiety of waiting for something to happen but he’s already right there, so, so close to you. It's almost too much. You’re afraid if you let your body do what it wants, you will get so affectionate, it appears violent to outside eyes. He can see the gears turning behind your eyes, and gives you another moment longer to collect yourself.
“you are,” you pause to take a breath in, speaking slowly, “so, incredibly special to me. I can not even believe how looking at you makes me feel. I don't even think I could...point out individual things, it is everything about you. I love you so much,” you release an exhale, as though the time bomb inside finally exploded, and you were finally able to release at least some of the pent up emotion.
He stares back at you, almost in shock. He knew you loved him. You say it to each other at least once a day, but he had never seen you in such a love-drunken state. A huge smile spreads on his pretty face, cheeks sore. Already riding the high of an incredible show, his insides were on fire. He was so warm, so grateful to have you on top of his already wonderful life. He didn't think it could get any better until he fell in love with you.
He cradles your face in his warm hands, radiating as much sweetness and need as you are. Kisses quickly cover every centimeter of your face. You’re laughing instantly, so beautiful and light, like down feathers dancing around his heart. Small incomplete mumbles of “I love you” and “So happy to have you” escape as he dotes on you.
The other members of Corroded Coffin are gagging playfully amongst themselves. Steve and Robin just awe silently at the display, reminiscing on younger days, appreciating how far everyone has come.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic
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Starved
Pairing: Fem!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
Rating: T
Word Count: 1,003
Warnings: minor descriptions of violence/injuries, discussion of mental health/self-destructive issues
Notes: I'm hungry and cranky and overworked so have this thing where Fem!Simon tends to your injuries.
You're not well.
Haven't been for some time, some might argue.
But it doesn't matter. Not to you, anyway. You simply retreated to your sparring matches at the backwater, unregulated gym you frequent weekly, getting far too vicious as per usual. The coach you were with today had kicked you out after you'd spit blood that wasn't yours onto the mat in front of him.
But it didn't matter. Not to you.
You trudge back to your home late in the night, getting only as far as the front door before you catch her eye.
Simon Riley. Your neighbor.
You've spoken numerous times, enough to form some flavor of a friendship with the woman. (Though, if you were truly honest with yourself, the idea of it being more has often crossed your mind). She passively knows about your weekly gym retreat, and has even helped patch you up after a few.
When she meets your gaze through her kitchen window and silently nods her head in a "come over" motion, you know tonight will be one of those times.
You pause, emotions still raw and adrenaline only just now beginning to fade.
But still, you go anyway.
She has the door open when you arrive, all 6 feet 4 inches of her blocking the way as you simply stare up at her.
You're starting to get tired.
Simon's face is unreadable as she steps back, allowing you inside. She leads you to her bathroom, grabbing a first aid kit from beneath the sink. She places it on the counter and then, in a move that sends heat creeping up your neck and across your cheeks, grabs your hips to lift you a few inches higher and onto the counter as well.
She first tends to your split knuckles as she stands between your legs. Calloused hands that have little business being as gentle as they are sanitize the cuts and scrapes, washing away the dried blood before wrapping them as best as she can.
Next is the cut on your cheek. One hand finds its way to your other cheek, cradling your head and holding it in place as she tends to the wound.
You want to close your eyes and lean into her touch. But you resist.
Her voice is soft when she apologizes as she puts the antiseptic on the cut.
You want to tilt your head and kiss the palm of her hand. But you resist.
"Where else are you broken?" she asks when she's done, her hand leaving your cheek far too soon for your liking.
You neglect to make the obvious joke of pointing to your head.
"Nowhere."
She then hooks a finger under your chin and brings your gaze up to her.
"Don't lie to me, love."
You want to melt. You want to lean forward and bury your face in her neck. But you resist.
"...My side. 'S bruised."
She lifts your shirt up slightly, her fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake.
"Yup, looks like it'll be nasty in the mornin'," she confirms. "Wait here."
You do as she asks as she leaves, only to return a moment later with an ice pack wrapped in a cloth. She returns to her previous spot between your legs and places the compress on your skin, holding it there herself. Without thinking, you reach one hand up to her shoulder and grip the fabric of her shirt.
"I'll jus' keep this here for a minute," she says. "Be sure to keep ice on it again when you get home. Won't swell as badly."
The two of you exist in silence for a while. Until Simon breaks it.
"Let me guess, 'I should see the other bloke'?"
You only hum absentmindedly. She's right, but you don't feel like explaining how the "other guy" will probably be sporting the outline of your teeth on his arm for at least the next week.
More silence follows. And once again, Simon is the one to break it.
"'M not gonna ask you why you do this," she says gently. "You've got your reasons, an' I'm not entitled to 'em. Just don't want you to think no one's noticed."
You're not sure how to respond. She's spoken about her past only briefly in the context of her own mental struggles, so you don't doubt that she'd understand that you seek out physical violence once per week as a way to feel something - anything - that isn't emotional pain. But that's a lot to say at this time of night, and you're still tired.
Then her free hand comes up to cup your cheek, and your thoughts short-circuit. It doesn't help when she gently rubs your skin with her thumb, intermittently running it over the bandage she placed there earlier.
You want to lean into her touch and close your eyes. This time, you don't resist.
You hear her take a deep, quiet breath.
"Starved, aren't you?"
Once again, you aren't sure how to respond. How do you tell this hulking, quiet woman that she's right? That you are starved for any kind of touch that isn't brutal and wild and ruthless? That, even then, you're only starved for her soft and gentle touch?
You feel the ice pack leave your bruised skin, and Simon gently pulls your shirt back down into place. You open your eyes, and the hand you've got on her shoulder slides up to her cheek, mirroring her own pose.
The atmosphere is thick, your mind muddled. Your body moves on its own as you gently guide her face to you.
Your brain starts functioning again when her lips are a hair's breadth away from yours, and you stop.
Though you have your suspicions, you've never asked (and Simon's never said) if she's interested in other women. An acrid streak of panic pins you still. But her low, gentle voice soothes you.
"It's okay."
You want to kiss her. And, now that you have her permission, you don't resist.
Neither does she.
#fem simon#fem reader#ghost scribbles#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader
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Ooh! 2 for tiny James and human Oliver? (I'm so curious to see how you'd make that situation happen 😭)
2. “So are you just going to keep me in a jar forever, or…?”
Although it did take a minute to figure out a situation that Oliver might trap James in a jar I had a lot of fun with this one hehe
From this!
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Since James had gotten more comfortable around Oliver he had also been getting more reckless.
Oliver could remember the first time the borrower took a leap off of the counter, shouting something about a ‘trust fall’. Thankfully he caught him before he could get injured, but that only spurred the man on more… At first Oliver fretted every time, but soon enough it became like a routine.
After realising that James's reckless behaviour was a sign of his trust in him, Oliver became fond of those sorts of interactions. He could usually tell when James would start being more impulsive like that, and the borrower would also avoid messing around too much if Oliver was trying to focus.
Today Oliver was filling in a bunch of forms, flipping between various files and writing notes down for different referrals. He was focused and a bit tired because of how long it was all taking. Even so, he minimised any distractions so he could dedicate himself to the task at hand.
James didn't get the memo clearly.
Oliver was filling the forms in at the kitchen island, and as he worked and sipped on his cup of tea he was suddenly made aware of James’s presence when the borrower climbed onto the island counter.
“What are you up to, mate?” He asked, curiously, moving closer to the forms and inspecting them with a discerning gaze. Oliver had learned that James wasn't able to read and only recognized certain words and phrases for survival purposes, so it was no wonder he didn't understand what he was doing. Still, Oliver was tired from the repetitive task and trying to focus.
“It's for work.” He responded simply, using his right hand to gently shoo the borrower off of the files, worried that they might get footprints on them and he'd have to reprint the papers and fill them in all over again. Oliver yawned slightly, squinting down at the forms with exhaustion. “Can't chat at the moment. Perhaps tomorrow…?”
James bristled at the sight of the giant hand shooing at him, frowning and raising an eyebrow at the human. He looked tired… Why would he keep working if it's making him tired?
“Maybe you should take a break?” He pointed out, moving closer again, not really seeing the importance in all these papers and words… It couldn't hurt to stop for a bit, could it? Oliver certainly seemed like he needed it.
The human shook his head with a hum, continuing to write undeterred by James's advice. James narrowed his eyes slightly before thinking to himself about how he could get his friend to see reason. It wasn't healthy to just stare at paper for that long, surely… Getting a great idea he smirked to himself, side-stepping towards the edge of the counter closest to where Oliver was sitting, before jumping off.
Oliver snapped awake immediately, jolting and quickly catching James before he could reach the floor, falling back off of the stool in the process. He cupped his hands together around James to shield him, but that left him with no hand to brace his fall. He groaned in pain as he fell onto the hardwood floor, nothing broken, but his body wasn't exactly thanking him either.
“James…” He began with a scolding tone as he opened up his hands, revealing the dishevelled borrower and a cheeky smile on his face. Oliver's heart was still racing from the scare— he thought for a moment that he wouldn't be able to catch him in time. “I almost didn't catch you. Why would you do that?”
“But you did.” James pointed out, much to Oliver's frustration. He didn't have the capacity to deal with stuff like this when he was doing time sensitive work and was already exhausted. James shook off the slightly miffed look in the human's eyes, despite how it made his instincts scream in protest. “And like I said, you need a break. Didn't mean to make you fall though…”
Oliver sat up more with a small groan, his back still aching from the sudden fall.
“I don't have time for a break tonight. I apologise, but you need to leave me to my work.” He managed to retain his composure for the most part, trying to emphasise that he needed to focus. He couldn't focus if James was going to be chucking himself off of every surface, whether he was trying to help or not. He stood up.
“Well if you're not gonna take a break, I guess I'll have to keep jumping off until you do.” James insisted stubbornly, crossing his arms. Oliver squinted at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not because he knew James was a very sarcastic person and he usually didn't pick up on it. With a sigh, he placed James back down on the counter and sat down again.
“If you do that, I'm not against putting you in a jar for the time being whilst I get my work done.” He responded, just in case James was indeed telling the truth. He hoped it would dissuade the borrower, but as he picked his pen up again James did just as he said he would.
Oliver was faster to catch him this time, and even managed to stay seated, but his frown only deepened at the childish behavior his friend was exhibiting. He knew that most borrowers probably lacked an understanding of jobs and how important they were, but he thought James would be at least a little more respectful.
Fine. I did warn him, so he already accepted the consequences beforehand.
Standing up, Oliver walked over to the drawer he kept empty jars in— usually they would be for him to fill with homemade preserves and spices, but tonight they would be filled with a borrower. He pulled one of the taller one's out and placed it onto the counter with a ‘tink’.
“Woah woah— y-you weren't being serious, right Oliver?” James suddenly began to kick at his fingers in protest, but Oliver was too tired to register the very real fear in his friend's movements.
“I’ll let you out when I'm done. It should only take a few hours.” He assured, lowering his hand to the mouth of the jar, tilting it so that James would slide in without any risk of falling and injuring himself. Once he was in the jar Oliver set it down and sat down at the island again, getting to work.
“Oliver! Let me out!” The borrower banged his fists against the glass fruitlessly, panicking slightly at the feeling of being trapped. He can't be serious. He won't actually leave me in here, right?
But as Oliver ignored his shout and picked up his pen, James felt his throat go dry. Oliver was always no nonsense, but he would never go this far… Unless he was actually starting to get sick of him? James sat down at the bottom of the jar silently, watching Oliver write.
After a few hours Oliver didn't let him out— he had fallen asleep at the island counter before finishing, and though James made a few attempts to get him to wake up it didn't work. He was getting more anxious the more time that passed, resigning himself to his fate in the jar for however long Oliver decided to keep him in.
Oliver woke up with his neck aching terribly from the way he had been leaning over and lying his head on the cold hard counter. He yawned, blinking slowly as his surroundings become more clear the more he woke up. Oh. I must have fallen asleep before I finished. What time is it?
He checked his watch, squinting at the numbers. 5:30 AM. That's enough time to finish. He reached towards the pen at his right only to straighten up in surprise at the sight that greeted him. Everything suddenly came rushing back, and Oliver was hit with a wave of guilt as he made eye contact with James, who looked so small huddled in the corner of the jam jar.
“So are you just going to keep me in a jar forever, or…?”
Oliver's eyes widened at the defeated tone James was speaking in, concern furrowing his brows as he leaned down to peer at his friend through the glass, dropping the pen immediately.
“Stars… Of course I'm not, James. I'm sorry, I… I must have fallen asleep.” He shook his head, expression becoming serious although riddled with guilt. “I shouldn't have trapped you in the first place. I wasn't thinking as clearly as I should have been…”
As he reached for the jar he paused again, thinking better of picking James up right now after what he did. He might be scared of me. I would deserve as much…
“Is physical contact okay? Or should I just tilt the jar over?” Part of him was still hopeful that he hadn't broken James's trust enough that he would be uncomfortable with being touched. They had been doing so well after all; Oliver didn't want James to feel like he needed to go back into hiding again… But he would respect it if that was the case.
James seemed to hesitate before averting his gaze guiltily.
“Just…tilt it, please mate.” His voice made it clear that he hadn't slept at all— probably kept awake thinking his friend had suddenly betrayed him.
Oliver nodded slowly and reached forward again, carefully turning the jar so that the borrower could walk out by himself. Once that was done he stood up and put the jar back away in the drawer, gaze lingering on it for a few extra moments.
What does he think of me now?
James watched as Oliver walked around to the other side of the island, staring at his back and thinking to himself. He was still pretty upset about being trapped for so long, and by all means he should be packing up and leaving immediately. But Oliver sounded genuinely remorseful…and honestly, James had never had a friend before. He didn't want to give that up.
He continued to watch as the human sat back down, glancing him up and down for a couple of moments. James took a breath before running and jumping off of the counter, just as he had last night. Please catch me please catch me—
“James!” Oliver's alarmed voice boomed, and James was relieved to feel warm hands close around him. He should feel mortified, but all he could do was smile when he was raised up to his friend's eye level. “I…should I put you down..?” He asked, a hint of nervousness in his furrowed expression.
“Nah.” James replied, patting the thumb beside him. “But you should take that break.”
#g/t community#ocs#g/t artist#ask box#g/t writer#g/t#oc asks#borrowers#ask#giant/tiny#g/t writing#g/t angst#g/t fluff#giant/tiny writing
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Finding Her: CHAPTER TWO
AN: I hope you enjoy chapter 2! As always, this series contents dark content that may be unsettling to some readers. Please proceed with caution. Your mental health matters.
You can find chapter one here
You can join the taglist here
TAGS: @darling-millicent-aubrey @missduffsblog @thefallennightmare @as-above-so-below1000 @alastriaa @amelia-acero @eclipseeeetop @noahsbong @abiomens @lilrubles @badomensls @pathion @exephantom @honeytama @wild-child-7747 @areuirish @1toreyouapart @iluvmewwww75
WC: 1.4k
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Consensual non-consent, mentions of drugs (drugging a person and medical drugs), mentions of addiction, knife play, blood, stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, stalking, dacryphilia, possessive Noah, slapping, mentions of abuse, Noah has a monster cock in this story, asphyxiation, blind folds and bondage (sexually and not), branding, impact play, cock worship, collaring, degradation, d/s, face fucking, gags, orgasm denial, pet play (if you squint), toys
DOLLIE'S POV
Staring at the letter in my hand, I couldn't help but shake. I was nervous, my apartment complex was safe. You couldn't get into the elevator without being checked in and approved. Who put these here? Why did they give me these? Maybe it was silly to worry. I must have met someone last night, and gave them my address. Yeah! That's what had to have happened. I sighed before grabbing the vase and moving it to my window sill in my kitchen. I may not know who sent them to me but might as well appreciate them, right?
I didn't let the slight panic from this morning stop me from my usual Friday routine. I threw my hair up, slipped on my sandals, grabbed my purse and headed to Jolly’s shop. I waved to the doorman on duty this morning and stepped out. Taking a breath of fresh air was all I needed to ground myself again. I was pulled away from my thoughts as I collided with the man in front of me. “Oh my god! I'm so sorry!” I spoke up, there was a quiet chuckle. “You’re okay, I swear. Sometimes I don't pay attention on my morning runs.” He spoke. “Oh! Dollie, right? You're friends with Nick. I was at the bar last night. I'm Noah!” My brain immediately went back to Nick telling me that Noah brought me home last night. A feeling of uneasiness came over me, until I looked from his fully tattooed chest and up to his beautiful brown eyes. Something inside me went from fear over a stranger being in my home, to the sudden feeling of safety. How did i go from panic to comfort by a complete stranger? I'm going to have to unpack that with Jolly as soon as I get to that coffee shop.
“Dollie? You okay? You seem a little in space now.” Noah’s voice brought me back down. “Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes I just get in my head ya know. Um. Yes, I'm Dollie! I'm sorry I don't fully remember you. I remember you sitting down but that's about it.” Noah smiled down at me. Before I had much time to think, the words just came out. “I'm on my way to Jolly’s coffee shop. I usually help him out in the shop on my days off. If you want to join me, you're welcome too!” Noah nodded at me, “I’d love to, but I definitely don't want to overstep with you and your boyfriend.” I laughed at the thought of Jolly as my boyfriend. “Oh god. No! Jolly is in fact not my boyfriend. He’s just been my friend for years.” I saw a small smirk appear on Noah’s face. I reached down and grabbed his hand, “follow me, then!”
The walk to the shop was pretty quiet, but the shop was a 5 minute walk from my apartment. I pointed to the shop that was a couple steps in front of us, indicating this was it. “I didn't know Jolly owned this, knew he worked here but that's all. This is where Nicholas and I met Jolly. We come here every week before we head to the library around the corner.” My eyes widen, “I work at the library! I don't know how I've never seen you!” I spoke as I walked into the building, waving to Jolly who was behind the register. He smiled towards me and I watched his face change as he noticed Noah behind me. Mouthing later he nodded his head towards the end of the counter where I saw my drink already setting. Noah went up and ordered his drink, then worked his way by me. Reaching up, I sat my hand on his arm. “In 5 minutes, I'll be right back. I promise!” I mumbled before walking back into Jolly’s office.
As soon as I closed the office door I heard Jolly’s soft voice. “You two must've hit it off last night if you're bringing him on your help day.” Sighing, I was almost afraid my voice would give out. “Dollie, what happened? You're scaring me.” Deciding to not bring up the mystery flowers, I shook my head. “Jolly, nothings wrong. I promise. I quite literally ran into him, and invited him. I figured why not? He gave me a weird sense of comfort for barely remembering his name from last night.” He nodded at me and kept working. “Well go on, go talk to him. Fall in love and all that gross stuff.” He chuckled at me. “Haha, so funny! Shut up! I’ll work extra hard next week. Swear.” I spoke while crossing my heart, before walking out. I stepped into the dining area and noticed Noah was nowhere to be seen. “Dollie! That guy left this for you.” the barista yelled at me. The note read; I'm sorry, Doll. Work called and I had to run. Wish i could've said bye to your pretty face. Give me a call when you're free, and if you don’t. Well, then i'll see you thursday.
Walking into my apartment building the doorman handed me a letter. “Someone dropped this off for you right after you left earlier.” Smiling, I grabbed the letter and walked towards the elevator. There was nothing on the envelope but my name written in all caps. Ripping the letter open, I felt my heart drop. There was a polaroid of me this morning holding the flowers with Beautiful written under it. How did they get this angle? You can't see this from my window? This looks like it was taken in my living room. There's no way. No one was there, but me. Looking around the hallway outside the elevator, I saw no one and quickly made my way to my apartment. My heart felt like it was going to jump right out of my chest. This is weird. This is way weirder than I thought. As soon as I stepped through my door, I quickly locked the door. Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed my biggest knife and made my way through each room. Am I being overly paranoid? Maybe, but this dude took a photo of me inside my own home. I need to be cautious, just to ease myself. Maybe Nick or Jolly could stay with me for a couple days. No! That’s silly. My home is the safest spot for me. No one can get in here. I'm fine. I think the best way to handle my anxiety is taking Hydroxyzine. Can't be worried if i'm asleep.
It was almost too much. The feeling of his tongue on my neck, while he gently rocked his hips forward. Causing a groan to leave his mouth as I clenched around his cock. A silent way of begging for him to let go. “Please, Noah.” As if that was all he needed, he thrusted once more, before he filled me with his seed. The loud ringing of my phone ripped me out of the dream land where I was hiding. My phone showed a number I didn't know. Deciding to ignore it, I threw the blanket off of me. There was what felt like a puddle between my legs. I immediately pulled my panties off to see what looked like a man's cum settling. What the fuck? My phone started ringing again, that same number. Annoyed, I answered. “Hey Doll! I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Just wanted to make sure you got the note I left at the cafe.” I took a huge breath in, calming instantly. “Hi Noah! No not at all, I just woke up actually. You were in my dream, oddly enough” I chuckled out. Suddenly remembering my dream. “Oh god. Please ignore that. That was stupid to say.” There was a tone of embarrassment in my voice. “Please, I'd love to hear about it. Who knows, maybe I already have an idea.” He chuckled. “Excuse me? What did you say?” I mumbled out. “What? I said, I'd love to hear about it if you're comfortable.” When I did not respond to him he cleared his throat. “Doll, are you okay?” His voice was soft. Inviting, even. I don't know what came over me. This isn't like me. “I’m okay! I think I'm just a little tired. If it's okay, I think I should take myself back to bed.” There was a noise outside my front door, ignoring whatever response Noah said. My feet moved before my brain did. There was a piece of paper. Sat right in front of my door. Someone very clearly slid under.
You make the prettiest noises.
#finding her#noah sebastian blurb#noah sebastian fluff#noah sebastian headcanons#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian x reader#noah sebastian smut#bad omens smut#bad omens fanfic#bad omens fluff#bad omens fanfiction#stalker!noah
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ngl posting fics really isn't fun anymore these days, im not even anxious about the complete lack of interaction, which used to make me feel like I was writing shit, now it just...makes me so sad that's it's gotten to that point
#i genuinely dont see the point of SHARING anymore#when most of the times im met with silence or something close to it#reaching the point where i think i might just write those things because i still need to write them#but i won't be posting online#because its really not a nice feeling to see the hit counts go up and get no interaction#as always it makes me feel dumb for being happy to share#anyway i guess it's a mood these days#good job internet you're winning#killing the will of yet another fic writer#and i was happy about soon celebrating my 20 years as a fic writer lol#writing#fic writing
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had the most down bad dream one could possibly have....
#a very. yuri themed dream sequence. it was very cinematic and also my brain decided to give me the most realistic kissing sensation for it#like girl get up. Get Up!! it was literally just a very tender makeout session with a beloved friend. which is like ok. i get whats going on#but alas. the distance#i think weve reached a melting point if i dont get to lez out w someone SOON. i fear i might combust. spontaneously.#piksla.txt
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something something chiyo putting on a brave face and holding everything in and then finally crying out of relief something something
#oh man i'm so sleepy#but imagine your muse is in big danger or there's a possibility they might be dead#and bc chiyo is the way she is she doesn't show how deeply worried and upset she is#until your muse is there in front of her again and she's clinging to them and choking down sobs bc the relief is too much#knowing they're alive and breathing is just too much for her to keep it together for another second#i'm just in the mood for big feelings i think :' )#i'm probably gonna go to bed soon now that i queued what i wrote though#i've reached that point where my brain blanks and i can't articulate myself very well anymore#so if this ends up being my last post of the night i wish y'all a very lovely evening and an even better friday <3#get ready to ramble | ooc
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What The Past Holds (135321 words) by AllisonNoir
Chapters: 19/21
Fandom: Danny Phantom
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Dan Phantom, Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton, Vlad Masters, Clockwork (Danny Phantom)
Additional Tags: Post-Episode: s02e08-09 The Ultimate Enemy, Ghost Biology (Danny Phantom), Ghost Cores (Danny Phantom), Time Travel, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, POV Multiple, Dan Phantom Redemption, Episode: s02e08-09 The Ultimate Enemy, There Is A Reason Why Dan is 'Dan', TUE!Vlad, Rewritten Time, Ghost Hybrids, Heart AU, Panic Attacks
Series: Part 1 of What The Past Holds
Summary:
“I don’t come here for trouble,” Dan explained, and as he calculated, that was the main thing that she had to be aware of for their own good. “Jazz, I…” why the words were so heavy to say aloud? He took a deep breath and spilled it.“ I came here for help.” Yeah, in this way, it would be better, he realized. First, getting Jazz, and by winning over Jazz’s trust getting to his younger version: Danny.
Not much after escaping from the Thermos that imprisoned him, he faces a situation that he can't solve on his own. Things soon are starting to get complicated as he, in the meantime, has to deal with something that he thought he had lost a long time ago.
NOTE (2022 May): I've begun to edit the chapters (here and there it is seriously needed), when I'll be done with one, I'll note it with 'edited' and write it here, thanks for understanding :)
Edited chapters so far: Chp1-8, rest is on the way... (2022 August)
#danny phantom#dan phantom#dark danny#tue#the ultimate enemy#wtph#hey bit of self-share because I need a vast motivation to work further on the editing#and sharing the process I reached so far is a strict sign that I should continue it#because everyone will know I'm at a point so then I should keep going with it to finish it in the near future#the first eight chapters are edited (from chp1 to chp8) since I've written them back then#you can read further if you want but I'll warn you the flow of the sentences might be rough#I'm working on editing all of them slowly - thanks for understanding#also a reminder soon on FF this story will cease to exist so I recommend ao3#and note: 'Bits Of The Past' contains 'deleted' and additional scenes for this story#I haven't had the opportunity yet so far to edit them but soon it will happen too#also I modified the tags I think those now make more sense#(editing chp9 will be finished very soon... I mean as today)
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((some big shit is gonna happen today plot-wise))
#update#not story#not an ask#read the tags#it would be a decent point to end the chapter soon-ish?? but like#there's still more i wanna cover this isn't the final point#there's a little more#just saying it may be reaching. close to an end point soon#unless you think it went by too fast#then i might squeeze more shit in#what do you think pls give feedback#i'm not the most confident in my pacing
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Is there anything I can do to help Palestinians besides call my representatives and beg them to stop killing people?
This is a great question. There are a few things you can do—just off the top of my head:
BDS (Boycott, Divest, Sanction) https://bdsmovement.net/
Direct Action https://www.palestineaction.org/
Urge your University/School/Organization to put out a statement denouncing Israel
Organize a Protest/Participate in a local one
You might already be doing this but while calling your reps, tell them that as a voter, you're unwilling to support them in the upcoming election unless they urge the White House to take a stand against Israel and stop funding them
Share art/writing/films around Palestinian culture
If you're part of a union, ask them what they're doing to urge their industry leaders to take a stand against Israel + pressure the White House OR urge them to start a strike/walkout/etc if they're not doing anything already
Talk with your friends IRL about Palestine, whether in an activist capacity or watching a movie or literally anything
Reach out to a mosque to see if you can help them with anything
See if your city/state council has put out a statement in support of Gazans. If not, try to push them to do so.
Donate to Palestine Legal or Direct Action if you have some money to spare
KEEP TALKING ON SOCIAL MEDIA!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know some of these don't feel like they have as big of an impact on helping Palestinians, but we do need to make an effort not to forget their humanity in the face of continued erasure and the media's sensationalist rhetoric.
Talking on social media and posting—while not seeming like a lot—does SO much. I know in USAmerica, it's like yelling into a void, but political analysts are saying that most of the "Global South" has completely lost any amount of goodwill it may have had the past few years. Hopefully, countries will start to put sanctions and embargoes en masse on the US and Israel soon.
Our goals here are BOTH short-term and long-term. We hope for the life and liberation of the Palestinian people, so anything that you can think of might help at some point in the future is encouraged to at least try.
If anyone else has any more ideas, feel free to reblog and add on. Thank you for asking, and here is to a liberated Palestine where Palestinians can live and thrive without fear.
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A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]
Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load.
“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”
Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now.
Because that would be totally crazy...right?
Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader
Word Count: 10.8k
Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"
Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.
The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.
Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.
And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.
The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.
“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”
Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself.
Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.
Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.
The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.
“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.
Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked.
When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.
He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.
“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”
“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask.
Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.
“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”
“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.
“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”
You cock an eyebrow at him.
“What kind of change?”
Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.
Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.
“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”
…
Huh?
“Here.”
Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.
Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.
“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.
Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.
“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”
You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.
“...did he consent to this?”
Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.
“Not yet, but he will.”
The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.
“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”
“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.
“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.
“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”
Wriothesley sighs.
“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”
You grin, holding your head high.
Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.
“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”
You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.
“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”
Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”.
Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.
“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.
Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn’t react, so neither do you.
Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building.
“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.
“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”
She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.
“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”
“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands.
“Take this when you go in, that should help.”
“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.
You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.
Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.
Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment.
Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.
Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?
“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”
Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.
“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”
“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”
Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.
“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”
For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.
Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.
“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say.
“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.
Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.
“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”
“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”
Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…
“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”
“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”
Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.
“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”
Alright then, time to break out the big guns.
“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”
The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.
“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”
Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.
“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”
Both men look your way. You smile.
“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”
Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.
“Good! Glad that’s settled.”
With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.
“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.
You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.
…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.
“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.
Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…
“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”
Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.
“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”
“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.
“Now, what can I assist you with?”
While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.
He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket.
Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.
While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.
By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.
“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”
“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.
So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.
Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.
“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”
“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”
“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”
How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?
Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.
Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.
“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”
“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”
You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—
“I'll have to keep that in mind.”
—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.
In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.
It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).
However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.
When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.
“You may go home for the day.”
You blink, looking around for the time.
“...will you continue working?”
“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”
You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.
“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.
“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”
“9am will be fine.”
“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”
“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.
His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.
The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.
“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”
And really, who would pass up that offer?
So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.
Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.
“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”
“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours.
“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.
“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”
He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.
“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you.
“Nonetheless, thank you.”
With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.
You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.
As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today.
From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.
And he seems to be…for the most part.
Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.
Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.
You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).
By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.
Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day.
He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.
However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.
“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you.
“Is it possible that you’re sick?”
Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.
“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.
After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.
A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.
…huh.
Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.
He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.
You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.
Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.
You jump to your feet.
“Neuvillette—?!”
“Leave.”
There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.
“What—”
You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.
“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.
Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?
Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.
“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.
“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”
Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.
Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.
“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.
He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.
Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…
A scent that he wants to chase after.
He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.
Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.
As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.
On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be.
You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.
It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.
So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.
You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.
As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.
In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.
Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.
You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…
You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…
Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.
Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright.
So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.
A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.
In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.
“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.
Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.
Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.
And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.
A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat.
You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.
Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.
Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy—
“I told you not to return here.”
The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.
He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening.
You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.
“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice.
“I sent you away for a reason.”
His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks.
His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm.
However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.
The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.
“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.
“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.
You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.
“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”
“Me,” he responds.
His words send electricity up your spine.
“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.
“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”
He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.
“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”
A rut.
The word hits you like a train.
“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”
He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…
At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.
His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.
Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.
“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”
The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.
“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.
“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”
Run.
Run.
Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back.
His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.
All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.
You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat.
Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.
But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him.
In fact, it will probably be painful.
Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.
You’re scared, but—
Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette.
You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.
Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.
“Why didn’t you leave, you—”
His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.
He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.
“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.
Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.
“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass.
The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.
“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay.
“This is wrong of me…”
The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.
A quiet laugh leaves you.
“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”
Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.
And, of course, it does.
He takes a deep breath—
“Thank you—”
—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.
The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.
The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.
He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.
His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.
Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe.
Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.
However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.
He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.
He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.
He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—
Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.
You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.
Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.
In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.
The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.
He pries your legs apart.
You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.
His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.
As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.
His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.
But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.
No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.
The first taste of his meal.
You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.
He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.
And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.
His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.
…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.
You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.
“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.
You've never felt anything akin to this before.
“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.
His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours.
He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.
Then, his tongue starts to move.
He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.
He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.
He can't stop.
He bullies your g-spot incessantly.
You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body.
You can't control yourself.
The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…
“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”
Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.
Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm.
Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.
And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you.
The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.
The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.
“Neuvillette, you're—”
“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt.
“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.
Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head.
Finally, you're bare beneath him.
He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.
Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.
“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”
And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass.
The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before.
Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger.
He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.
Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away.
You trust that he won't hurt you.
“Ah—!”
He slips a second finger inside of you.
Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.
It's all so much.
“Neuvillette—”
You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair.
Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.
He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—
Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.
Instantly, you lose it.
A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—
“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”
“Cum.”
He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.
“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.
You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette’s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.
Then, he finally relents.
Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you.
Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…
You’re ready.
Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.
You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.
Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.
Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.
Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is.
He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—
Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.
…oh.
You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…
Speaking of—
“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.
“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension.
He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.
Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole.
It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.
As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.
“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom.
Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.
Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.
Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.
“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy.
“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin.
Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.
Drunk with desire, he actually growls.
“I—”
I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—
“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours.
His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.
“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”
His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.
Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.
“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”
Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.
Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body.
Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.
You’ve never felt so full.
Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more.
…then, he begins to move his hips.
You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go.
The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.
The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.
Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.
The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss.
Ah…you’re going insane.
A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes.
Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm.
“Ahh…”
The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.
Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.
Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.
And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.
He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts.
Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you.
You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent.
He’s getting close.
And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.
Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.
Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.
“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips.
“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.
It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.
With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.
His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.
For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you.
You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.
“You did so well,” he tells you.
Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you.
The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.
“I take it you feel a bit better now?”
“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek.
“However…”
He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy.
With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.
“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”
When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.
Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station.
He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.
Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)
As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.
Pushing the door open, he heads inside.
“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office.
The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.
“Come in.”
“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.
Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.
“Y/N?”
Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.
“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more.
It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes.
Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body.
He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.
Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.
The office sits in silence for a moment.
“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”
Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.
“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”
His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.
“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”
“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.
“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”
“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.
Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.
Both men smile.
“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”
“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”
“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.
“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”
Wriothesley hums.
“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”
Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.
“Really?”
“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”
“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”
Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.
“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”
Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze.
Understanding passes between them.
“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”
Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.
“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”
Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.
“I shall hope for the same.”
#genshin impact smut#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette smut#neuvillette fic#genshin impact x reader#bean fic#genshin x reader
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physically feeling the jealousy invading my every senses
#trying to compensate for my loneliness with plants and collecting as many as i can#and yet im still not satisfied and im tired of going to sleep and waking constantly thinking about how i could die#and no one would notice which might not be true ik but it's still my biggest insecurity and im tired of crying alone#and not having anyone at all to comfort me#and it's actually hard to breathe and something has been sitting on my chest restricting it for so long and it's so lonely#and i genuinely might die from the pain some day soon#growing up like this so isolated from my peers god i feel so stupid i want friends is that really too much to ask#such a first world problem mayhaps which makes me feel even shittier bc it's the biggest thing that eats at me inside out these days#no one ever understands. ever. and they say they do but they dont because how could they they havent lived a day in my shoes#and it's all just so so lonely#idk whatever#it'll all pass soon#i cant talk to anyone#im always the one listening to what's happening around me and no one bothers listening bc why would they they cant relate#they're not interested#at this point i dont even know how to socialize and i try to but it doesnt work and no one cares enough to reach out to me#and one girl did but i didnt know how to reply or handle it and now she's gone too#and now my closest friend is my five year old sister how funny is that#my contact list is so so so damn long and yet none of those numbers and names would care#or they would ik that but it doesnt feel like they would remember#ignore this im just trying to cope#i thought i was okay i was seven months clean#not anymore#of course not#bc nothing is ever simple
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
Simon making it clear that you are the only one he wants
“You alright, sweetheart?” Simon’s deep, gruff voice hit your ears, pulling your out of your thoughts.
You nodded without a sound, subtly trying to divert your gaze so that he wouldn’t look into your eyes and see all the emotion swimming inside, but at this point you really didn’t need to answer the question. The way you sit across from him with your brow furrowed into two steep peaks and your shoulders slumped forward and tight as you idly picked at the skin around your fingernails was enough of a sign. Even though you tried to dismiss him with a few muttered “I’m fine” and “It’s nothing” phrases, the man knew; whatever it was had been eating away at you for some time.
Turning his full attention to you he took your chin into his coarse grasp and tilted your head upward until your eyes met. “Then why can’t ya even look at me?” he posed his next question.
You let out a sigh, nowhere to run now as Simon wasn’t gonna let you back out. “It’s just…silly...”
An incident had been on your mind for a week now, something that should have been resolved already, but try as you might to let it go it just couldn’t be shaken. A new younger female recruit had got it into her head that she wanted a piece of the huge, mysterious Lieutenant and began to flaunt that young, supple body in his direction. Simon had not allowed it to continue for even a second after that initial encounter, making sure that you knew everything in detail, and immediately she was reprimanded and reassigned, but the damage had been done to your confidence.
Were you really right for him? Were you enough? You had never really thought of yourself as ugly, but when pitted up against some pretty thing that had the freshness of young beauty on her side, you weren’t so sure if you could really compare and that made your usual abundance of self-confidence drop to nearly zero.
Amber eyes gazed back at you as Simon waited patiently for your reply. Taking a deep, calming breath you continued. “I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you made the right choice,” you said.
“And what choice is that, hmm?” he pushed, letting you use your words even though he was sure where this was headed.
“Choosing me,” you said so softly it was barely above a whisper.
Just as he suspected, it was still bothering you and he kicked himself for not doing more before now to show you that there was no one on base or even in the whole fucking world that could compare to what he had with you. There was no one up until now that had ever kept him so tightly wound as you did that he constantly felt like he couldn't get you out of his head, that he never could get enough of you; it was a constant struggle just to keep sane so that he could do his job when he knew what would be waiting for him when he got home.
That’s why it took nothing for him to know exactly what it was that he needed to do now.
Without a word the grip on your chin was released as Simon stood to his feet. He reached down and took a hold of your hand, giving it a good, solid tug. “Come on,” he beckoned with a nod of his head to stand with him and through a bit of stubborn reluctance, you followed.
As soon as you were on your feet he pulled you into his hard, warm chest, leaning his head in close until you could feel his breath against your lips. “Of all the fuckin' mistakes I've made in my life, ya ain't one of 'em. I think someone needs a bit of extra attention, and I was a fuckin' fool waitin' till now to give it to her,” he murmured, his voice lowering into that register that always sent shivers down your spine. “Let me take care of ya, let me turn that brain of yours off for a bit and show ya how sure I am that I made the right choice.”
Before you could answer, his lips had already connected with your own to steal the words right out of your mouth. If there was one thing that experienced military man was superior at it was making you come apart at the seams like it was his fucking job. And boy did he take pride in his work.
But right here and now he would be even more meticulous in his affections as it was clear you needed to be reminded that you and only you were the best goddamn thing to grace his miserable existence. All of his undivided attention would be yours tonight and he would not stop until every single worry had left that pretty little head.
Promises were breathed into your mouth by him. "I'm not stoppin' until ya know just how fuckin' much I don't want anyone else besides ya."
In a flurry of lips and tangled limbs, you found your way over to the bed. Like a surgeon performing a delicate operation, he carefully removed each article of your clothing one by one, making sure that the exposed skin was immediately caressed and attended to before he moved on to the next. Every inch of skin on you would feel the passion in his embrace. By the time you hit the mattress’ surface, your body was already a tingling mess of nerve ends bursting to life in ways that made your mind numb.
The lights had been turned down low, their soft incandescent glow warm and inviting as the breathy sounds of unspoken desires from a man consumed filled the air. It was hard to think of anything as the thick tension permeated the space while you lay there naked sprawled out across the sheets with Simon at your side. Adoration was what he was after tonight, needing you to be left as nothing more than a puddle of pure bliss in the middle of his bed.
Toughened fingers traced all of those subtle imperfections lining your body with such tenderness as if each scar and blemish and indention were incredibly precious to him; his lips followed not far behind as he whispered praises into your skin. Those gentle words that were only for your ears alone as he couldn’t have people thinking he was going soft…even though he absolutely had been since the moment he got with you.
“How could ya ever think I would want anythin’ other than this, other than ya?" he breathed the question into the skin of your torso. “You're all I could ever want, all I fuckin’ think about; the best goddamn thing to ever happen to me. My pretty girl.”
His nose nuzzled against the crook of your neck and he caught that scent: the smell of your body’s natural musk that just one whiff of could make his head fuzzy and his body tingle in a way he could not describe. All those beautifully fragrant notes that combined together to create a profile that was distinct to you so that even if he couldn’t see you he knew you were near. Closing his eyes, he breathed you in deep.
“Christ, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he purred into the warm skin of your shoulder before he was on the move, lips caressing over the swell of your breasts with nipples already stiff. “I just can’t ever get enough of ya. How could ya ever fuckin' think I'd give up all this for some young tart who'd get sick 'a me sooner rather than later? Fuck, you’re all I want, all I'll eva fuckin' need.”
Down, down, down he continued over the length of your stomach towards your thighs. It was like performing a sacred act, him giving you the full breadth of his overwhelming desire as he made his way from your lips to your legs, getting everything in between. He shot a hungry glance back up at you as he reached those pillowy creations that he loved so much.
He sighed. "Every inch of ya is like a goddamn dream."
Extra time he spent on your thighs as he embraced those voluptuous curves over and over again with his mouth, kissing and sucking, running his nose along them until you were whining and writhing beneath him. Shit, he had not even touched anywhere near your throbbing clit yet and still you could not stop the way your heart pounded out of your chest or your short, sticcatoed breathing that filled the silence.
“Please,” the plea fell from your open mouth, but there was no need to beg. This was your night after all and he was not about to deny you of anything.
"Whatever my pretty girl wants she's gonna fuckin' get," he smiled. "Always."
Slowly Simon’s large hands spread you open just wide enough that he could lean his face into your mossy bank. More delicate kisses were dotted over your petals, his mouth embracing all around that tender slit before his tongue gently slipped inside the folds. All that doting on your body had done it’s job in stimulating so that he was met with a wetness on his tongue as he dived in.
Shit were you sweet, like eating a peach except this one would not run out before he had gotten his fill.
That masterful tongue drew short, concise circles around your clit, lips locking around the bud intermittently to suck, using the two techniques in tandem while his nails drug lightly over your thighs until your were bucking against his face. There was no rush in his movements; he was going to take his time in drawing out your pleasure.
You couldn’t make a sound, your mind consumed completely with every flick of his tongue, every press of it firmly against you, every pass of his hands over your thighs; overstimulated doesn’t even begin to describe it. Eyes closed, mouth wide open, desperate music being moaned into the room was all you could muster as he brought you closer and closer to the precipice of your pleasure.
Leisurely Simon lapped at your clit, no rush, no hurry, with measured strokes that eased you pleasantly into your orgasm instead of violently throwing you over. You came so effortlessly that you are able to ride out that wave of ecstasy for minutes as his pace stayed at that steady rhythm until there was no more left for you to give. Only then did he emerge like a man baptized anew.
By the time he finally thrust inside you, you were a glorious mess of sweat and mewls and cum. He took you right on your back, needing to see that look in your eyes that made him feel like he was your whole world. No muscle-straining positions will he put you in tonight as all he wants is to gaze down at the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on.
“Do ya think I have any doubts now?” he asked with a muted smile. "Think I could do this with just anyone?"
Your cheeks, already warm and pink, flushed bright crimson. “No,” you shook your head.
“That's a good girl,” he praised as he adjusted your legs to be comfortable around his thick torso. “Then let’s finish this off right, yeah? You and me, sweetheart.”
Slow, even thrusts he pounded into you, stretching you and filling you full even at this angle, as he met your lips again to nearly choke you on all his passion. You could taste yourself on his breath as he claimed you body and soul.
“Ya feel so fuckin’ good, just wanna stay buried in ya all the time,” he groaned between precise thrusts through your tight, moist core. Your body was paradise and he could not get enough. Pulling back he watched the connection of your bodies right at the point where he slipped inside of you. You were so full of him there was no distinction between where he ended and you began.
Simon was never a religious man, most of the time as far from it as humanly possible, but the closest he would ever come to faith was the moment he got his first feel of all that glory that first time you two went at it. It was then that your body became his church and from then on he was more than ready to give his life to worshiping at your alter with his fingers and tongue and cock; any and all instruments at his disposal to show you his unwavering devotion.
That man had been starved for far longer than he would like to admit, but the first time he buried himself in you that was all it took to fill him up. It was only you that he craved: your softness and warmth and light and no one else would ever do. As much as you were his, he was yours.
His hands ran up the sides of your torso, leaving burning trails that made you shiver as he palmed both of your breasts in each one of his hands to massage the flesh. “I want ya to come for me again,” he said, more need in his voice. “Can ya do that for me pretty girl?”
Rapidly you nodded your head up and down as you focused on what was coming.
“That’s it; wanna be sure my girl gets everything she needs to stay satisfied with me.”
There was a feeling of safety and security that you got when you were with him; no matter how rough or passionate the sex got, Simon was always right there with you in the moment so that you never felt that it was one sided. Right now that feeling spread through you along with the gathering warmth in your abdomen to help you get out of your head and let go. All those worries, all those fears, they left completely as he thrust inside you a few more times and you spilled over the edge once more.
He kissed you hard on the mouth, holding your raw lips together once more as he followed right after you. His shoulder shook as his released himself and fell into that high that he would never tire of- not when it was with you. As he let go of your lips, he smiled back down at you; that glow of ecstasy causing his heart to skip a beat.
“Ya see, there’s no one in this whole fuckin’ world I want more than ya, sweetheart,” he whispered into your temple before placed a quick kiss. “And I am always willin’ to show ya that you are the only girl for me.”
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#simon riley x reader#cod mw2#simon riley smut#simon ghost riley smut#simin ghost riley#simon smut#ghost simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost x you#ghost#ghost cod smut#cod ghost#cod mw22
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pinky ring / sim jaeyun
synopsis: jake made you a promise to marry you when you two were toddlers. he would fake propose until he really did get down on one knee.
pairing: childhood besties jake x reader
wc: 1.1k
To your parents, it was all good fun. Seeing their child being proposed to by their childhood best friend at their favorite beach. Documentation was highly important to them, filming little you and little jake holding a candy ring pop in his hand, asking your hand in marriage. To them, it was adorable.
For young child you, you were petrified. At the time, your dad just gave a small talk on how to stay away from boys and you're definitely too young to get into a relationship. This happened when you called the actor on scene handsome when you were having a family movie night.
"We are too young Jake" pouting your lips, feeling bad for rejecting his proposal. Jake shrugs and hands you the ring pop anyway. "Fine, I'll just wait and get you a real ring".
That didn't last long because fast forward to the next year, he does it again. He has done it so much that for the next few following years, it had become an inside joke to everyone in your immediate family.
"You have rejected me for 4 years now" crossing his arms in a fit, Jake looks at you disappointed. "Maybe because we are only 12 years old?"
At this point, you aren't sure if he's doing this because he really wants to marry you or just to tease you and lead any guy interested in you far far away. Remembering all the instances where a boy would approach you during lunch and sit next to you and confess and say that they think you' re cute. There then comes Jake, wearing a smug smirk and says something along the lines of "I'm actually her future husband, please go away".
It makes you think about how you could never get away from Jake and his antics.
Even when you guys reached your teenage years, almost reaching adulthood, Jake never dropped the fake proposal joke. Like on your 19th birthday, at the restaurant he took you both to, he claims how he's your boyfriend and he's planning to propose soon, the waiter thought he was weird for saying that he wanted to propose soon with you sitting right there but nonetheless, he gave you both free desserts.
You thought at by the age of 14, he'd stop since you both are going through puberty, his feelings would change and he'd drop it due to his own pride and embarrassment, but no.
Now you both were 20, if you had to count how many fake proposals Jake has done over the years, it would reach 100.
"You can't say that we are too young, we're both legal adults and we basically known each other our whole lives." You turn over to him and flick his forehead, causing him wince in pain and shoo you away from him. "You're mean"
"You're the one that wants to marry me, so get used to it"
"Oh, so you're playing along now" He removes his hand from his head and pokes your side. "After years, you're finally warming up to the idea"
"Keep that up, I won't be anymore" Once you said that you realize how you didn't even deny it. Looking back at Jake who went back to playing video games, you take in his appearance and guide your eyes to follow the lines that make his side profile.
Jake was good looking, you knew that. He's always been the apple of your eye since you two were kids, then as you got to know him, his humor, personality, and behavior kind of sealed the deal for you.
"If you keep staring at me, I might disintegrate."
"Then, who is going to marry me?"
"We're still on that? I thought you didn't want to?"
"Make me your girlfriend and I'll rethink it" Now it was your turn to cause a ruckus in Jake's mind. He pauses the game and looks over to you, reading your expression wondering if you were serious or not.
That night, Jake stayed over. Unlike the other past sleepovers that you two had, this one was different because the way you cuddle into him now, it felt different. He was always yours and until now, just a different kind. He was now your boyfriend, not boy-friend.
With your dynamic and bond with Jake, it felt like sunshine and rainbows most of the times, being around each other all the time and knowing each other too well, you always found ways to fix things or any miscommunication that would come along.
Transitioning to relationship from friendship was surprisingly easy from the outside perspective but the thing with you and Jake was he was always a gentleman and treated you right and how you deserved to be treated, and of course vice versa.
When you told your mom the news, she did not show any surprised reaction, simply telling you how she saw it coming and was just waiting for this moment to happen, you dad shared a similar reaction, happy that it was Jake to be the one you were dating.
Fast forward to a whole year of dating Jake. People would say that you two were like a fairytale love, match made in heaven, meant for each other, all that. "Hey yn, maybe you should do that trend where you call Jake your husband"
"I'm pretty sure he's already seen that on tiktok, no?"
Still, even if he did, you were going to do it just to see his reaction. That same day, you two meet up after your last class ended. Waiting for you somewhere in the university's campus, you run up to him and give him a hug. "Someone missed me?"
In the car ride home, you guys both agreed to stop by your favorite restaurant and get some take out. Which was a perfect time to put your little prank in action. Just like everyone else, after placing your order, you ask Jake what he wants and tell the waiter. "Then my husband would like ___"
Once the waiter leaves, you finally take notice of Jake who is wide eyed, staring at you in awe. "There's no way you just called me that" To say he was a lovesick puppy after that was an understatement.
But now since you called him that, you have to keep calling him that. Because if you call him or introduce him as your boyfriend, he'll act surprised and startled. "Are you asking for a divorce?" "Do you not love me anymore?" "I thought I was your husband?" to name a few.
"I'm gonna have to propose now, for real this time"
#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen au#engene#enha#enhypen x reader#jake#jake enhypen#jake sim#jake sim imagines#jake sim x reader#jake x reader#sim jake
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