#i guess it's less expensive and heats up faster | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Myth or Movie

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Unbeknownst to the two of them, Y/N and Spencer's children have worked up a plan to get them to meet... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Strong language, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative/unprotected sex, someone is misgendered (nothing too bad, it’s very brief, and it’s sincerely apologized for by the person who misgenders) Word Count: 4.2k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: This is my 2nd entry for Pom’s ( @imagining-in-the-margins ) Enemies To Lover’s Writing Challenge! This one was one of the prompts she provided: You and (Character)'s kids don't get along, so you have to have a talk. Turns out you... really really get along... and I couldn’t wait to tackle it! I believe my exact words were: “I’m gonna Parent Trap these bitches”... So do with that what you will lol

———

"I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Two heads turn to stare at me as I burst through the doors. I'm out of breath from running through the building, something the staff really didn't seem to appreciate, though their shouts and annoyed glances were the last thing on my mind.

As I try to catch my breath, the two heads stand, and suddenly I feel a lot smaller.

One of them I recognize— Principal Anteros. I'd met with her before over some of Sky's academic achievements, all positive things, which is why today's circumstances make being in this office rather uncomfortable.

It's also why I seem to shrink with embarrassment at my tardiness— and appearance. Waitressing has its benefits, but today's whirlwind of phone calls and a mention at meeting another parent are not any of them.

Speaking of, the other person in the room is one I've never seen before. He's taller than both Anteros and I, extremely well dressed, and probably the most intimidatingly beautiful human being I'd ever met. I can barely meet his eyes, and so I try not to think about what he's doing here—to think about having to talk to him.

I shrink even further.

"Ms. Y/L/N," Principal Anteros greets. Thankfully she doesn't sound too upset given the circumstances. "Please, have a seat."

I do, brushing off my uniform as if that will somehow help my appearance. The soft leather of the chairs, however comfortable they might be, fail to bring me any comfort at all.

"As I'm sure you've guessed already, this is Doctor Reid, Vivian's father."

Great, he's a fucking doctor? This already bodes well for me...

Regardless of my reservations, I turn to him and give a faint smile. He waves in turn, and for the time being I'm extremely glad he doesn't insist on shaking my hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, surely nothing but a formality.

"You, too," I say quickly, then turn back to Principal Anteros. "Your phone call sounded urgent... Is everything alright?"

As soon as I say it, I feel kind of dumb. Because of course everything isn't alright. My child's principal called a meeting with another parent, and that can never mean anything good, not to mention the fucking intimidation and awkwardness in the room right now. I almost apologize, trying to explain that that wasn't exactly what I meant to get across, but then I would have just been talking for way too long, embarrassing myself further.

Once again, I'm thankful for Anteros's ability to move the conversation along. "I'm not sure, but it doesn't seem so. I only bring this to attention because Sky and Vivian are both stellar students. They've never had any disciplinary issues or difficulties with other students..."

"No one's hurt, right?" Mr. Reid asks. I know he's just concerned for his child, but for some reason it feels like an attack on me, like he assumes my kid had something to do with it.

"No, no one's hurt. Thankfully there weren't any physical altercations. But it seems your girls are quite... loud."

The doctor looks like he wants to say something, but I'm quick to jump in before he can. "Sorry... Sky is non-binary. They use they/them pronouns."

I half expect one or either of them to make a big deal or just roll their eyes at me, as most people seem to do when I correct them on the matter, but Anteros gives a sincere apology and Reid probably couldn't have cared any less.

I still can't tell if I like him or not...

But that doesn't matter right now.

"What do you mean by loud?" I continue.

Anteros sighs. "Well, while there hasn't been any physical violence, your kids seem to have very heated arguments, usually during lunch or in the hallway in passing... We thought maybe we could resolve it here since, like I said, they're both excellent students, but then it started escalating to classroom arguments... It's a lot of screaming..."

I have never known Sky to raise their voice at anyone, not even in a situation where I probably would have. Lord knows I'm thankful they don't have my impatience and tendency to get pissed off easily...

So what happened that was so bad, it made them snap?

"You... You're sure you mean Vivian is acting out like this?" Reid asks slowly, and I can't stop myself from laughing out loud.

"Come on, she's a professional. This has been going on for weeks, in her school, I'm sure she would know if it was your kid having a screaming match with someone else..."

This time Doctor Reid actually looks over at me, an eyebrow raised, and though I very much believe what I've just told him, the way he's looking at me right now drops my heart straight down to my stomach, like he's the principal and I'm the student acting out—No, it's worse than that... I feel like he's a disappointed parent, but not with Vivian, with me.

I avoid his intimidating stare and look down at the ground. "Sorry... I'm just... This isn't like Sky, either, I don't know what to do..."

"Well, usually when we have these sort of disputes, we like to have the students talk it out amongst themselves with a moderator present. But we've tried that, and it seems that they still haven't made any progress. Now, I know your children are good at heart, and it seems like you both are excellent parents— You know your children better than anyone here ever could. So, I'm proposing the two of you take a meeting some time and try to figure out how to settle this."

Seriously? If it hasn't been made clear already, this man is a doctor of some kind, planets away from my league in any capacity, and I can just picture the two of us in a screaming match close to what I imagine our children's looked like...

Maybe we can just e-mail.

"Okay," he agrees evenly, and I'm surprised he seems this calm considering I've just practically yelled at him... "I have free time this afternoon if you want to talk it over."

"I have to get back to work, but I get done at five," I sigh, wanting to get this over with. "Are you free then?"

"Mhm."

"Good," Anteros chirps, standing and leaving Doctor Reid and I to follow suit. "Perhaps over the weekend we can get this settled."

I sure as hell hope so.

———

"Ms. Y/L/N, wait!"

I have no idea what he could possibly want from me now that we've set a time and place to talk tonight, but I'm just praying desperately that he doesn't want to take this time alone in the parking lot to get back at me for accosting him in Anteros's office...

Thankfully, his face when he approaches seems rather kind.

"You can call me Y/N..."

"Right," he says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and nodding. "I'm Spencer."

"Spencer... So, um... Did you need something?"

"O—Oh, I just... I know you have to get back to work so I'll make this short, but I wanted to see if you wanted to do, uh... dinner tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I just figured since we probably didn't expect for our weekend to go this way... We should make it worth it?"

"Are you really trying to turn this into a date?"

"W— No, not really, I just... You know, I thought it might be nice to... make this less like a chore, you know? A—And don't feel like you have to say yes, it was just a thought, I'm sorry if I made this weirder..."

The fact that I still can't figure this man out bothers me, but right now he's blushing, and he looks like he's trying to save himself from embarrassment, and it's so fucking adorable that I don't really care that I was just annoyed.

So I tell him, "Sure. Why not?"

"Really?"

"Yeah... Besides, Lord knows I haven't gone out for dinner in a long time."

The doctor is relieved, a smile creeping up on his lips that suddenly tugs at my insides and makes me wish for a second that it really is a date he's offering... "Okay, good. Do you want to meet at Waterstone, seven o'clock?"

The excitement starts to drain from me as he says it, followed by an incoming wave of embarrassment. "Oh, man, that... That place is kind of expensive, I don't—"

"Oh, it's okay, I'll pay for everything. I'll even wait outside for you so we can go in together if you'd like..."

Why he's being so nice to me I have no idea, but it's making my annoyance melt and my heart start to beat faster, and I really don't know how to feel about that. In fact I'm pretty sure it's weird as fuck given the circumstances.

But all I have to do is make it through this weekend, hopefully all will be back to normal, and I won't ever have to think about it ever again.

"Alright... It's a date."

———

Out of all the scenarios I'd pictured for the end of the night, this definitely had not been one of them.

I finished my shift at the diner, imagining on my drive home the look on his face when I inevitably showed up with something on my face or stained on my dress; Instead I showed up to Waterstone and was greeted with wandering eyes and showered with bashful compliments.

I expected to get into some type of argument about how each of our kids were better than the other or something, but we ended up talking through their traits with compassion, interest, and pride, all while agreeing that we just have to sit with them this weekend and explain that there are easier, better ways to sort out disagreements than screaming at each other in public.

I expected not to have much fun at all, but by the time we gathered the check and headed out the door, Spencer and I were laughing, just a little tipsy on Cabernet, our hands gently brushing and sparks shooting up my arm at the feeling.

I expected to go our separate ways and walk to my car and drive home, but instead he ended up telling me he was taking the Subway home, and I offered to give him a ride to the opposite side of town where I lived (Waterstone was right in the middle).

I expected to walk through the door, stumble straight up to bed, and sleep until Sky inevitably woke me up with them saying I've slept in too late and needed to get ready for work, but instead I ended up following Spencer up to his door to say goodnight.

And now we're at a fork in the road, and I can take one of two paths.

I can say goodnight, watch him walk in, and then go home and forget about this whole thing.

Or I can keep letting him stare at me until I find myself leaning in to kiss him. Whether or not he'll actually reciprocate is another story, but the little bit of wine tingling in the surface of my body and the dark, intense look in his eye gives me more courage than I've had since I met him.

Before I can make a move, Spencer talks, his voice small and inviting. "Do you want to come inside?" The beating of my heart quickens immensely as he takes another step forward and brings his fingers out to graze my chin. "Vivian's with her mom tonight."

Yes. Vivian's mom, who divorced Spencer pretty soon in the marriage after she just decided his job was too much to handle. He'd quit and took a teaching job, but even still, she declined his pleading to stay married and eventually admitted that she just wasn't in love with him anymore. At least she had the decency to let him have joint custody once his schedule cleared up, and it seemed like they were decent co-parents. Maybe even friends.

I think about Sky, how much they wish their dad had stayed, and how much I wish he had too. I was devastated when he left without anything more than a note. For years it took a huge toll on us, and I barely had the headspace to even think about dating anyone since then.

But here I am now, standing with this man who has also lost a spouse, who's somewhat of a single parent, and who seems kind and genuine enough that I don't think I'd have to worry about bringing him into the life of my child.

Though, I don't even know it'll go that far. I'm getting too far ahead of myself, and so to slow down I look at what's right in front of me. Right now.

Spencer looks at me like he wants to devour me. My whole body is tingling from head to toe. I want to kiss him, and I'm pretty damn sure he wants to kiss me back. He just invited me inside, which means that if I accept, we'll most likely end up sleeping with each other.

Again... Definitely not one of the scenarios I'd had in mind when I left the school today. But it's a damn good one, and he's so hot I want to cry.

My flirty switch turns on so fast, it nearly gives me whiplash. "And what are you gonna do if I say yes?"

"Depends... How badly do you want to walk tomorrow?"

My first instinct is to jokingly tell him to put me in a wheelchair, but I settle for kissing him instead, hoping that gives the same sentiment.

The way he melts into my body tells me I've succeeded. My arms fly up to his neck and pull him closer, and he holds me tightly to him, waiting for my lips to part so he can expertly slip his tongue past them.

I whine out and take a step towards the door. Spencer comes with me and fumbles with the keys in his pocket before reluctantly pulling away to get us inside.

Once we take our jackets and shoes off, he clings to me like static, drawn to me like a magnet, and I let him near without a second thought. Our lips find each other perfectly, like they've always meant to fit together. And as pieces of clothing come off on our way through the house and up to his bedroom, our limbs fit together just as well. Nothing is out of place.

Hell, I don't even remember how inferior to him I felt earlier in the day. Our jobs and lifestyles might seem like polar opposites, but for right now, the two of us are on very equal footing, coming together like it's always been meant to be.

I nearly fall apart when his fingers gather wetness from my cunt, just enough to tease me before pulling away and bringing them to his lips. I watch with a whine waiting on the back of my tongue as he slips his fingers past his mouth and sighs.

"More," is all he manages, and I want so badly to tease him—tell him how I know he can be more eloquent than that—but words are all lost on me too, when he drops to his knees and spreads me apart with ease. I have no choice but to reach behind and grip the foot-end of the bed as he works his tongue expertly against me.

Each of my sighs and whines are met with more avidity from him, taking the form of sharp flicks of the tongue over my clit, and once he adds his fingers to the mix, pumping them expertly inside me, I'm a fucking goner.

I come with a silent shout, clenching my thighs around his face and gripping the foot of the bed so tightly it feels like my hands might go numb.

Once my body loosens, Spencer gets up and kisses me, nearly knocking me over. I'm breathless and dizzy as the tang of my arousal coats my tastebuds. His hands are gentle despite the hunger in his lips, and the medley of sensations of all of these things has me weak in the knees.

"Getting harder to stand already, sweetheart?" he laughs, catching me as I fall into him. His hands clutch at my thighs and he carries me to the edge of the bed, crawling over top of me and kissing down my neck. "That's okay... I'll take good care of you."

I still can't manage to speak as he gently pushes in, the slow burn of him splitting me in two rendering me utterly incapable of even thought. I gladly welcome the pressure, especially once he's inside me all the way and lowering his body to mine. Our chests press firmly together as he pulls back and starts a steady pace with his hips. He traps me with his arms, bringing them to either side of my face. And when his fingers brush the hair from my eyes, he stares into them with intensity as he fucks me.

It's slow and hard. It's heart-pounding. It's earth-shattering. It's everything that makes sex worth having. In that moment we're two equals, so wrapped up in the mere feeling of each other that everything else is just background noise. He breathes me in and I do the same, and with each cant forward of his hips, he brings me deeper into this world we've both ultimately created together.

I want more than anything to wrap my legs around him and keep him close to me, but he's fucking me so good that I don't have the willpower. Instead, they lay spread out, lazy and open as his hips move between them. I'm warm all over, tingling everywhere our skin connects. When he kisses me, swallowing my pathetic attempts at whimpering his name, I'm positive that this is what Heaven must feel like.

Whether it's hours or only minutes later, eventually my body tenses, unable to hold back any further, and two particularly deep thrusts from Spencer send me barreling over the edge.

"There it is, sweetheart..." he praises, caressing my face with long, gentle fingers and leaving little kisses wherever they trail. His voice only seems to help me along, each warm syllable soothing the muscles that pulled taut at his mercy. "That's a good girl..."

I feel tired, calmed, and relaxed, when he pulls out only to jerk off over my lower stomach. Through tired eyes, I watch as he lets go and covers me with his release. Hearing him grunt out my name as he does it nearly wakes me up again, and it even finally brings some words out of me.

"God, you're so fucking hot..."

Well... Not exactly elegant, but the feeling gets across.

Spencer laughs and rolls over so that he isn't nearly crushing me anymore. He kisses down my neck, my arm, and he ever-so-slightly swipes the tip of his tongue over the mess he made before kissing my thigh and getting up to leave— presumably to get me something to clean up with.

Sure enough, he returns shortly with a wet washcloth and tenderly cleans me up. I manage to sit, leaning back on my elbows once he's done and smile at him. He's practically kneeling in front of me again, smiling back as his lips press featherlight kisses to the inside of my leg.

"How're you feeling?" he drawls, letting me pull him up to lay down with me.

"Really good. I haven't done that in so long..."

"Me either... I um... I hadn't really thought much about seeing other people once Lena and I got divorced... I guess I just wanted to put all my focus into being the best father I could, you know?"

"Mhm," I answer, turning to face him and interlocking our fingers. "I know exactly what you mean."

We lay like that for a few moments in comfortable silence, hands and limbs tangled while we breathe the same air and revel in the afterglow we've just created.

Suddenly Spencer laughs, and I squeeze his hand. "What is it?"

"I was just thinking... We probably wouldn't have met if not for Anteros calling us in, right?"

"Yeah..." I piece it together. "Guess I never thought of it that way."

"I just think it's funny, because in Greek mythology, Anteros was an Erote, known as an avenger of unrequited love, and he punished those who scoffed at romantic advances made by others... You and I never even thought about dating after our separations, and yet... Here we are now, because of Anteros."

Hearing him educate me on Greek mythology only serves to remind me how different we are. Still, the little story brings a comforting smile to my lips. "Well... Remind me to send her a basket of muffins or something to thank her."

"And tell her what? That you're grateful she got you laid?"

"Yeah. And what about it?"

The two of us dissolve into laughter that eventually fizzles and leaves us silent again. Our fingers are still tangled, and somehow we've snuggled in even closer.

"In any case, I'm glad I got to meet you, Doctor Reid."

"And I, you, Ms. Y/L/N..."

———

In the past two weeks since that first meeting, I hadn't received any more phone calls from Principal Anteros, which bode as a good sign.

Spencer and I decided to see each other as secretly as we could, which meant only giving vague details to our kids as to what we were doing in our spare time— It seemed weird to spring it on them if they didn't get along, so we figured it was best to wait until the situation was handled.

I tried to talk to Sky about their progress with Vivian, but they only insisted that everything was fine and they wouldn't have to worry anymore. And after relaying this information to Spencer, he informed me that Viv had said the same thing to him.

It wasn't until we both realized that they'd said the same things verbatim each time we asked, that something odd was going on.

And that's how we end up right here, Sky and I sitting on a park bench bathed in the golden October sun while I patiently wait for Spencer to 'coincidentally' show up with Vivian.

Thankfully I don't have to wait too long, because almost five minutes after we sit, I hear the familiar sound of my name falling from his lips, and it's hard to contain the cocky, playful smile that appears upon my own.

"Spencer, hey!" I call back, standing up and going to give him a hug. He pulls me in and he's nice and warm. He smells like burnt wood for some reason, and I want to breathe him in forever. Instead, I settle for a sweet kiss on the lips, both because I simply want to and also because it should baffle the fuck out of our kids.

Sure enough we pull away and look to them, and they look panicked. They have no idea what to do, what to say...

"Oh! Sorry... Viv, this is Y/N, Sky's mom."

The pure amusement in Spencer's voice makes me feel even warmer than being in his embrace. I look to his daughter and give her a wave. "Hi."

"H—Hi..."

It almost seems cruel to laugh at their predicament, but as I turn to Sky and introduce them to Spencer, they have clear annoyance written all over their face.

"Okay, Mom, I think we get it... How did you guys figure it out?"

"What, that you two pretended to hate each other so your principal would have to call us both in to meet?"

The pre-teens look at each other and sigh, truly defeated once and for all. "Yeah," they mutter simultaneously.

"Well, it surely didn't make any sense when you got in trouble for yelling at each other in the first place," Spencer points out. "And then when we asked you how things were working out, you both said the same exact thing..."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out, but we appreciate the effort," I add, reaching out to ruffle Sky's hair. They jerk away playfully, and I can't help but notice their smile as they peek over at Vivian.

"Our plan worked, though, so I call it a win," Vivian says with a shrug.

"As long as you two don't plan on causing any more disruptions at school..." Spencer looks between the both of them, and then at me, his eyes softening as he takes my hand and squeezes it. "Then yes. I'd call it a win, too."

I lean into him and laugh. "Turns out it wasn't Greek mythology that brought us together. It was The Parent Trap."

He raises an eyebrow, like he doesn't get what I mean, and before I can ask or explain, Vivian does it for me. "He's never seen it."

Spencer looks between the three of us like a lost and confused puppy, and we all laugh.

"Well, then, maybe we'll have to have a movie night sometime soon," I offer, reaching out for Sky.

Hand in hand, the four of us continue down the pathway, walking away from the setting sun while dried leaves rustle under our feet.

———

PERMANENT TAGLIST (tags not working are struck out):

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @mcureid @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @goldensonlyangel @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxospencerreid @thatsonezesty13 @big-galaxy-chaos @mggskneescrew @youabitchhhh @spencersjello @moonlight-2-6 @starrylang @foreveryoungxx3 @spencerreidscoffeecup @morganwilliams @emilyprsntiss @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @gubswh0re @mrsobrien888 @loveeee2134 @umbreonwolfy @ayla-1605 @reidsbabe @not-that-kind-of-dr-spencer-reid

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #enemies to lovers

827 notes · View notes

moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

Can you do #46 for Raphael?

I most certainly can!

"They're gonna hear us." "Then I guess you better be quiet."

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

This was a bad idea.

Well it was also a very very good idea, but still terribly bad.

Staying up with Raphael was always a fun time, it finally meant some alone time once everyone would settle into their beds. Sure enough the hush conversation the two of you were having on couch in the living room had turned into some kissing.

Which eventually turned into a full blown make out session.

You could kiss Raph all day and night, amongst other things. As he kissed you, a slow sensual lip lock, you felt that large wandering hand of his slide onto your inner thigh. He more than felt your breath hitch against your lips. With a confident smirk against your lips you felt your cheeks flush crimson, just the color he loves so much on you. Slowly, feather like much to your enjoyment, he set about dropping soft chaste kisses across your jaw.

Just as that hand made a dangerous path upwards.

Your eyes find the nearest door in your sights and it no less belongs to the resident insomniac of the family. “Raph?” Your hushed albeit breathless voice feels too loud to you in the dark and quiet living area. You felt that treacherous voice of his close to your pulse point, an embarrassing gush of warmth pooling in your underwear. “What baby?” It was soft and smooth against your neck but it’s teasing undertone was very much there. He pressed a palm to your clothed sex, reveling in your much sharper intake of breath. Your eyes still stayed where the lab was.

“Your brother” You whispered with more urgency, even if your legs were spreading.

“Mikey sleeps like the dead,” He gently bit at your neck but you shook your head.

“No no the other one-“ Your eyes rolled back when you felt him sneak a finger into the pant leg of your sleep shorts and find your core.

“Leo? He ain’t waking up” Raph felt your hands smack his arm and then point towards the lab, you were too busy bitting your lower lip to speak. “Donnie? You worried he’s gonna catch us?” He wanted to truly laugh but he muffled said guffaws against your neck.

“He’s totally awake and you know it” It was a breathless reply, your tone going up before you slapped a hand over your mouth. The red banded brute had chosen to slip a thick digit into your heat. “He barely sleeps but he lives in there so we’re good” He licked the spot he bit on your neck before finding your lips and kissing them slowly, just as he hooked a finger and threw a breathy moan from you. There was simply no way you were going to be able to remain silent during this.

Even as a mischievous grin spread across Raph’s scarred lips.

Removing his finger from you, and highly enjoying your needy moan at the loss, he licked it clean. He got off the sofa and knelt in front of you.

Oh hell no.

“Turn around and bend over the couch” He grinned and even in the dimly lit space you could tell he was trying really hard not to laugh at your expense. You nudged him with your foot, barely moving him, but he grabbed your ankle. Fingers played with your skin, and just to drive his point further he placed a kiss on your knee.

“They’re gonna hear us” Was all your quiet suffering voice could manage.

Raph chuckled, large hand massaging your calf. “Then I guess you better be quiet”

You swallowed, another surge of heat filling you up as you got into position. On your knees with your arms resting on the back of the couch you watched the soft lighting in the lab. What if he came out to get a coffee? Or a snack? Or simply because this is home too. Just as nerves began to hit, you felt Raph slide your shorts down and a very enticing sigh left him.

You would kill Donnie if he came out now, you’d throttle him for sure.

Right now this is all your mind could concentrate on. A breathy ‘fuuuck’ that was whispered against your most intimate of places. Those very large hands of his you could never get enough landed on your cheeks, spreading them to his desire and soon enough to felt his hot breath against your folds. He gave a teasing flick of his tongue, enjoying the way you jumped a little. A few more teasing licks just for his own personal greed and enjoyment and you felt his full lips around the sensitive nub. He straight up kissed it, thankful of the meal he was about feast upon.

Meanwhile you where about bite your tongue off. Raph and you have always been vocal so keeping quiet was a true test of abilities, and right now he had the advantage of having his face buried in you.

You bit your forearm, thighs already shaky as he worked you over, tongue dipping into your folds with a groan. For Raph all he cared about was the taste of you, your scent engulfing him and the shudder he get your body give when his tongue dipped inside of you. A deep rumbling churr vibrated against your most intimate of parts, the very sensation of it making a much louder mewl escape you. You covered your mouth, eyes wide as you prayed that nobody had heard that. Raph couldn’t withstand the urge, drinking you like this, having you trying to hold back the desperate sounds of your pleasure. His already throbbing cock was proving to be a distraction, slipping a hand into his own shorts he gripped his hard length and pumped.

That itself made him moan against your cunt, tongue lapping greedily as you began to love your hips seeking more friction. The slick covering his hand wasn’t as good as your own, the way you engulfed him so perfectly and tight.

He needed you.

Flicking his tongue faster he felt you go rigid, thighs shaking and a gush of something so deliciously good hit his tongue. Whenever you came like this, breath still and body trembling, he loved it. Raphael ended your perfect torment with one last long lick.

As you recovered, more red faced than usual from holding in your sounds, you felt his hands travel up your body and grip your breasts. “How ‘bout we see just how quiet ya can be?” You felt him grin against your back.

“There’s no fucking way-“ You barely could finish your sentence when you felt him press up against you, that thick length of his making you whimper. He entered you like that, slow and steady. That first thrust only served to test your abilities to remain silent.

When he picked up speed, slamming into you in quick short thrusts you covered your mouth in hopes to quiet your increasing moans.

But you knew full well that wasn’t going to work for the rest of the night.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt raphael x fem reader #tmnt raphael x reader #raph tmnt #raphael tmnt #tmnt raph #tmnt raph x reader #raphael x reader #raph x reader #Raphael #Raph #smut prompts #ask #karamarisa #ns*w

1K notes · View notes

arhvste · 3 years

Text

002 SAKUSA KIYOOMI X SHUT UP AND DRIVE SERIES

++ MSBY GARAGE

❝ get you where you wanna go, if you know what i mean, got a ride that’s smoother than a limousine ❞

dt — @omisluvr i hope you like this, i had a lot of fun writing about you and your husband <3

warnings — nsfw : oral [recieving]

“what the fuck were you even thinking when you said yes to him anyway?”

sakusa pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood in the doorway of his high rise apartment. you were looking up at him, eyes glossy and hair drenched. your skin soaked not just from the rain, but from the fresh, hot tears that had run down your face as your hands scrunched the hem of your soaking sweater, the material quickly growing uncomfortable to wear.

the outside hitter sighed before stepping out the way to let you in.

“stay there.” his deep voice rang through your ears as he left to grab you a fresh towel to use.

you stood there, glancing around the sleek apartment as the city lights from down below leaked softly through the windows emitting a soft glow around the room. moments later, you heard footsteps approach as your eyes flickered over to the hallway.

sakusa strode over to you, handsome features highlighted and sharpened under the dim lights. sticking his hand out, he dropped the plush white towel into your awaiting arms as a plastic bag. you looked up at him confused regarding the bag, but before you could ask, he cut straight in.

“strip.”

“excuse me?” you choked out as you stared at the man in disbelief.

“you’re excused.” he muttered bluntly as you wiped your face with the warm towel. “you’re all wet. strip here and go shower and then we’ll talk.” he finished as he turned to leave you standing, dripping wet on the doormat of the entrance.

sakusa walked down the hall towards the bathroom and began to run the hot water and ensure the vents were working for you. having him out of sight, you sniffled and began to peel the wet clothing off your body and toss it into the plastic bag you’d dropped onto the floor. after stripping bare, you wrapped the inviting towel around your cold body and padded towards the bathroom. sakusa had left the light on and had already heated the water for you to prevent any time wasted.

you dropped the plastic bag on top of the white wicker laundry basket and stepped into the wet room style shower. the cool tiles beneath your feet caused shivers to run through your body as you turned the tap on for hot water to flow out.

as a fresh wave of hot water flooded down you, so did a fresh set of hot tears. you did your best to hold back the sobs you’d been keeping in, but it was all too much now.

‘better get it out now before talking.’ you thought as you let the tears flow freely down your face.

luckily, sakusa kept an array of various shower products so you knew you wouldn't have to come out the shower smelling like a six foot plus man who’d had a shower at the gym. after knowing sakusa for so many years, you knew he was picky about his products and you were eternally grateful for his favoured and toned-down scent of ‘ocean waves’.

lathering the soap across every inch of your now warming skin, your sobs slowed down and your breathing less jagged. your chest still hurt, but whether that was your crying causing chest ache or your now-ex causing heart break, you didn’t care anymore. you saw the end of your already deteriorating relationship approaching from a mile away anyway. if anything, you were partially thankful it had come crashing down, ending the anticipation that kept you on edge everyday. you just didn’t think it would actually hurt.

rinsing the soap off and feeling a bit better, you stepped away from the shower head as the water came to a halt. grabbing the fresh towel sakusa had left waiting for you on the radiator, you dried yourself as much as you could before wrapping the towel tightly around your body and stepping out the steaming room.

wandering through the dim hallway, you peeped into sakusa’s room as he scrolled through his phone, slouched on the king sized bed adorned with a firm, but certainly luxury mattress.

you knocked gently as his eyes snapped up at you. his expression still agitated looked, but softening at the sight of you.

“i don't have any spare clothes.” you murmured quietly, stepping into his clean and immaculately kept room.

he hummed before getting off the bed and rummaging through his own drawers. you stood there glancing around all of his medals and trophies won from years of playing in highschool and now pro. you had been present when he had won multiple of these awards. you happened to be one of the lucky few allowed close to sakusa. yes, you had known each other from a young age, but sakusa was ruthless in the sense of cutting people off; you had been someone exempt from that treatment though.

after a few moments, sakusa grunted with a pair of sweats in his hand as he looked down at your damp form.

you were taken aback slightly because despite sakusa slowly becoming more comfortable with personal boundaries, particularly in the recent years, you still grew slightly shocked everytime he willingly loaned you something of his own.

“thanks.” you whispered as you took the dry clothes and headed over to his en suite bathroom.

locking the door behind you, you quickly threw the sweats on and inhaled the natural scent that had rubbed off onto the clothes. sakusa smelt expensive in your opinion. yes, it was his natural scent, but anyone could tell he was a man of serious selfcare just from the scent of his clothes alone.

satisfied with your dry attire, you hung the towel on the radiator before switching off the light and stepping back into sakusa’s bedroom.

the sweats were definitely too big for you, but he had done his best to find one of his older sets in hopes of them perhaps fitting you a little more and for the sake of his own comfort knowing you weren’t wearing any clothes he’d regularly wear and fear catching too many external germs onto. you smiled weakly at him upon catching eye contact as he sighed and patted beside him on the bed.

staying close friends with the germaphobe had definitely benefited you as you had only grown closer to the pro-volleyballer over the years, allowing the two of you to naturally grow physically closer too. there’s not a lot of people in the world sakusa would’ve allowed for them to shower, wear his clothes and especially not sit on his bed, but once again, you were exempt from that, you always were; and he knew why.

“so,” he began, cutting through the thick tension lingering. “what happened exactly.”

always so straight to the point. maybe running to sakusa immediately wasn't the best choice.

“he cheated.” you spoke dryly as sakusa’s frown grew deeper.

“explain.” he pressed as you felt your chest increasingly tighten.

“i showed up to his house and-” your eyes watered as tears began to spill out. opening your mouth to continue, you struggled as no noise came out. scrunching your eyes up in frustration, you sobbed once more but stopped as you felt a warm hand take in your own.

you looked up through blurred vision as sakusa had a firm, but sincere look on his face. tightening his grip slightly on your hand, you shakily breathed out before continuing.

“the door was unlocked, i went in and i saw.”

“saw what?”

“her. the girl he told me not to worry about. the one he promised me was nothing more than a friend.”

sakusa scoffed as you sighed warily, tears dripping down your chin.

“they were um- you know-”

“-having sex. yes, i get the idea.” sakusa quipped as your heart dropped.

“um, yeah. i just left and well, here i am.” you laughed bitterly, face wet once more and vision blurred.

“what a fucking loser.” sakusa spat out bitterly as you hung your head low.

“i don't even know why you said yes to him. what the hell does he even have going for him? tell me what exactly it is that he brings to the table, i’ve been dying to know.”

you looked up as sakusa’s hand held yours tightly.

sakusa looked almost as hurt as you did. you quickly put that idea to bed and assumed it was natural protectiveness. he was your best friend after all. you just didn’t know just how badly he had wanted more than that though.

“he was just- he was just there i guess. someone for me to date. maybe i was just lonely, i don’t know. i, fuck- i dont know omi! i dont fucking know anymore!” you sobbed as sakusa’s eyes softened.

“well. what are you gonna do now?” he spoke sharply, eyes fixated on you.

“nothing i guess. i’ll get over it, i knew it was bound to end anyway.”

“and running to me was your first option?”

“are you really that surprised? i just didn’t know who else to go to.”

sakusa sighed before standing up and urging you to stand up with him.

“where are we going?” you asked, begrudgingly standing up beside his toned form.

“to take you out. i’m not having you soak my sheets with tears caused by a loser.”

“but i’m not dressed for that!” “we’re staying in the car for the most part.” he confirmed, notioning for you to follow him back to the front door where his car keys were left.

you sighed but followed suit as sakusa grabbed one of his own sweaters to put on. looking back at you, sakusa noticed your down expression as his own heart tugged slightly. he could only hope you’d perk up by the time he’d taken you to where he intended. he almost felt bad. almost.

you huffed but followed sakusa out the apartment behind him and waited as he locked the door swiftly behind him. trailing sadly behind him towards the elevator, sakusa watched as your miserable state wallowed in sadness behind him.

waiting for you to get over the damage caused seemed pointless in his opinion. ever the efficient one, sakusa knew exactly how he wanted to go about getting you over your ex faster. he could only hope you’d cooperate with him.

the ride in the elevator with the occasional sniffle from you occupying the majority of the silence. at last, the elevator had reached below ground level and into the underground parking lot for residents to use.

you followed the man out the elevator and stayed close to him and the two of you headed over to sakusa’s reserved parking space. you heart picked up slightly upon locking your eyes onto sakusa’s car.

a matte black aston martin DB11 was parked perfectly into its designated space. the tinted windows showed you back your own reflection as you were met with the sight of your downcast face. brushing stray strands of hair out of your face, you sighed and waited for sakusa to unlock the car for you to get in.

to you, getting into the pro players car was no big deal, you were simply getting into a friends car for a casual outing. to anyone else, this would’ve been a huge deal though. nobody was allowed in sakusa kiyoomi’s car. he denied requests to drop off and pick up others and even teammates. the only exceptions from this rule were yourself and komori. nobody else.

sakusa unlocked the car and you clicked the door open on the passenger side. immediately, your nose was met with the heavy scent of air freshener and leather. the clean and polished interior never failed to impress you every time you rode with sakusa.

the outside hitter climbed into his own seat before shutting his door and waiting for you to shut your own. the leather of the seat cool under your sweats. shivers ran up your spin and the cold temperature car started up at the press of a button.

“strap in.” sakusa glanced over at you before fastening his own seatbelt and looking into the mirror to back the car up safely.

“hold still for a sec.” sakusa muttered as you felt his hand land on your shoulder as he looked back. his body close to yours, sakusa swiftly swung the car out his space as your breath hitched. why the hell did he have to get so close?

“you could’ve held the back of my seat.” you looked over at him as he revved the engine ready to speed out the exit.

“yeah you’re right, i could’ve. i just didn’t want to.” and with that, sakusa hit the acceleration and the car sped out the clear exit at high speed.

your head was thrown back and your heart fluttered at his words but you kept quiet as you tried to calm your nerves. sakusa however, looked like he was out to kill. you were just thankful the roads were clear in the late night.

his jaw tense and eyes sharp, sakusa made no mistakes as he swerved in and out of lanes so cleanly, leaving other drivers with no reason to complain.

“where are we even going?” you spoke up meekly as the man beside you pulled up at a red light. clicking his tongue in annoyance of the hold up, sakusa tilted his head to face you, his wavy mop of hair flopping back as his salient eyes met your own, throwing your heart off course.

“you’ll see.” was all he said as the light flashed amber. head snapping back to the front, sakusa revved his engine once more, hands both tightly gripped the finely stitched leather of the wheel. prominent veins running down the back of his hand, sakusa flexed his fingers before gripping the wheel once more and slamming back down on the accelerator throwing your head back into the headrest for the second time of the night.

if looks could kill, you were certain any driver in your best friends field of vision would’ve been dead at least two times over. you had no idea why he was so angry, but you’d be lying if you said you didn't find him at least slightly attractive. you just couldn't bring yourself to fully admit it though. you were fresh out of an awful break up and the heartache was still there even if sakusa was capable of effortlessly throwing you into a fit of excitement.

you gazed out the window as the car sped along the highway as pulled off the main roads and into the more separated streets. you paid no attention to where it was you were going until a wave of familiarity washed over you. your stomach tightened and your eyes flashed in fear as you quickly turned to see sakusa as focused as before, pulling into a parking space resided along the street of houses next to it.

“what the fuck kiyoomi! why are we here”

“where else would i take you?”

“oh i don't know, 7-11 maybe?!” you huffed as sakusa scrunched his face in disgust.

“that’s not going to help you get over him. this will.”

sakusa nodded towards the houses outside. more specifically, your ex's house.

“i can’t do this, i don’t need this.”

“you can and you want to don’t you?

you stared at him in disbelief as you shook your head.

“not like this, not now.”

“look at me.” sakusa demanded as his hand reached up to cup the side of your face, pulling your gaze directly onto his face.

“he’s a fucking loser. you’ve cried over him enough already and i just can’t sympathise with you anymore, show him that he fucked up.”

you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. once again, shaking your head, you pulled away from sakusa’s grip as he stared at you confused.

“how? how can i just confront him in this state? you don't understand omi! it still hurts, and i can’t just-”

“-it hurt me too. this whole time it hurt.” sakusa cut in swiftly.

“ever since you said yes to him, i couldn’t understand why it hurt until recently. maybe i should’ve been happy for you. i just couldn’t though. i don’t like him, i never did and you know what? he didn’t deserve you, but i think i do.” he confessed, expression sincere and voice clear and sharp.

“kiyoomi i-”

“-don’t answer me now. it’s not fair of me to just throw something like that at you, i’m sorry but i’m also really not. i’ve been waiting to say this. just please, don’t let yourself fall off over someone like him okay?” he turned away, one hand still firmly gripping the wheel as his other hand reached to start the engine again to drive you both back. your hand intercepted though, stopping him from starting the ignition.

“you’re right, i’m sorry. i promise i won’t so, let me prove it to you.” sakusa turned to face you and raised an eyebrow at your sudden change of attitude.

“i don’t want to cry anymore. not over him, not when i knew it was approaching sooner or later.” you admitted looking up at him. eyes glinting under the dim lights the streetlights provided through the tinted windows.

“then don’t let him make you cry anymore.” sakusa breathed out, voice taking on a soft tone.

“i’m relying on you to keep me in check then.” you whispered slowly leaning into him and letting him meet you halfway.

“well, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” his final words muttered out as his slender fingers ran under your jawline as he tilted his head up to meet his own. eyes fluttering shut, sakusa mentally thanked whoever the fuck was looking out for him, because he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than he’d ever care to admit.

pressing his lips onto your own, sakusa’s heart ran laps as you gasped at the feeling his hands gripping your jaw tighter. humming in satisfaction, he deepened the quickly escalating kiss as he pulled you closer and closer to him. god, he just couldn't have you close enough to him.

sliding his hand down to your thighs, sakusa felt the way you had them tightly pressed together as the slow and languid kiss quickly heated with each whine he drew from your lips. growing greedy to hear more, sakusa dominated the kiss completely, teeth scraping along your bottom lip ever so gently, drawing a sharp gasp from your throat. with your lips slightly parted, sakusa slipped his tongue into your mouth groaning at your responsiveness to his actions.

pulling away, he left you gasping but gave you no time to catch your breath as his lips strayed from your own and you felt his hot breath teasing the warm skin of your neck. not wasting another moment, sakusa let his canines dance along your sensitive skin, teasing you and leaving you unaware of his every next move. finally, letting his teeth drag along your collarbone for so long, sakusa kissed, sucked and bit everywhere he had access too. he needed to mark you as his. it would give him enough mental confirmation that you were finally his and you seemed to have no obligation to this in the slightest.

“omi, i can’t-” you whined, frustration building up as the clothes you were wearing now became more and more of a bother.

“i got you princex.” sakusa grunted, shifting his body away ever so slightly.

“please!” you groaned, glaring at the now smirking man.

“whatever happened to ‘i can’t do this’?” he mocked relishing in the control he had over you.

“i didn’t think you meant this!” you whined as sakusa pulled himself off of you momentarily. looking down at your hot and bothered state he felt a wave of pride hit. he did that to you.

“backseat.” he demanded notioning behind him.

“what?” you breathed out.

“you heard. backseat.” you grumbled but obliged regardless, climbing into the backseats of the luxury car. sakusa followed suit and hovered over your aching body as you rested your head against the doors tinted window, waiting for sakusa to do something, anything.

“so obedient.” he sighed trailing his fingers along the waistband of the already loose sweats, hands slowly slipping under the material, tugging them off painfully slow, much to your impatience.

your breathing stuttered as the man pressed a soft trail of kisses along your now exposed thighs, the temperature of the car only increasing as the air got thicker and thicker.

“please.” you whispered as his kisses met the ache between your legs.

eyes lustfully looking up at you, sakusa smiled against the skin of your inner thigh, breath hitting dangerously close to where you needed his attention the most.

“since you asked so nicely.” he praised, fingers hooking under the thin waistband of your soaked through panties. pulling them down, his eyes flickered up to meet your own. a look of sincerity glinted in his eyes as you nodded at him, permitting him to grant what you both wanted, what you both needed. you wanted this as much as he did and he’d be a fool to pass up an opportunity like this. the opportunity to show you what you could’ve had from the start, none of that mattered now though. you could his now, he’d make up for all the time lost, starting with now.

gasping at the sudden feeling of his tongue dipping into your slit, sakusa’s confidence only built up knowing you were comfortable with this. the warmth of his tongue causing you squeeze your eyes shut as shivers ran up and down your spine. fully trusting himself now, sakusa worked his mouth on your clit, hungrily chasing the desperate pleads ands gasps he’d quickly grown attached to. he needed to draw more of these out of you and he’d do just that.

toying with your clit with his tongue, sakusa groaned at the feeling of your hands quickly grabbing the base of his hair, tugging him closer and closer in desperate attempts to get him to go deeper. he made it his aim to get you just as hooked onto the feeling of intimacy as he was and you seemed to be following suit perfectly.

“k-kiyoomi!” you gasped, tugging harder at the dark strands tightly gripped between your fingers. his eyes flashed up at you, an almost unreadable expression shown as he pulled away momentarily. “you’re so beautiful you know,” he sighed before moving his mouth back down to your twitching core “so fucking beautiful.” he praised as he glanced up to memorize each pleasured expression that twisted across your face. he felt so proud knowing he was the one doing this to you, only he could make your eyes roll back the way he did, only he could draw out those pretty sounds that escaped your lips. he knew he was the only one capable because he knew he was always the better choice for you, he was better than your ex in every single way and he was just relieved he was finally getting the chance to prove it to yourself.

completely encasing your core between his lips once more, he swallowed everything you gave him so selfishly, refusing to let anything go to waste and spill onto the seats, it’s not like he could let anything go to waste anyway, not when you tasted this fucking good and certainly not when you were in his clean car.

“o-omi, more!” you chanted as sakusa grunted as you felt the knot inside of you progressively tighten. firm fingers gripping your hips, sakusa curled his tongue inside of you making sure to lap up everything he got out of you. you whined and chanted sakusa’s name like a mantra as he continued to worship your body with his mouth.

“please, please, please!” you recited desperately over and over again as you felt yourself closer to the edge.

“so good for me.” sakusa praised pulling away and loosening his grip on you, your arousal coating his chin. keeping one hand firmly gripped onto your waist, he moved his other hand down for his fingers to pinch and toy with the bud as his tongue quickly dipped back into your tight pussy as you felt your high quickly chase up on you.

“f-fuck!” you cried out as you felt your back arch as the ecstasy crashed down on you. his actions didn’t stop though, as his thumb continued to circle your clit with slow but firm movements only further forcing your mind to go blank. mindless babbles dribbled out your mouth as you slowly came down from your peak, sakusa continued to let every drop of arousal spill into his mouth before he pulled away panting.

face flushed, but satisfied, he caught his own breath and waited for you to fully come back to your senses. your own breathing once again jagged, you looked up at him shyly as you leaned forward to rest your head against his.

“s-shit, i didn’t think it would go this far.” sakusa admitted, grabbing a tissue from the side compartment to wipe his face. a look of disgust flashed momentarily on his face when he saw the mess on the tissue, but silently praising himself for keeping his car free from any spills onto the plush leather seats.

you laughed breathily before fluttering your eyes shut.

“i knew coming to see you was a good idea.”

“you didn’t know this was going to happen, fuck, i didn’t even know this was going to happen. i only brought you here to confront him.” the dark haired male sighed before pulling away from you.

the two of you stayed like that for a few moments, a comfortable silence lingering in the compressed air of the car. you hadn’t verbally confirmed it yet, but sakusa knew from this moment onwards you were finally his. a blissful feeling bubbled up inside of him as he processed what had just happened.

suddenly, a loud tap on the window caused the two of you to jolt in shock as you instinctively gripped the hem of the disregarded sweats in attempts to cover your exposed body. leaning over to the front drivers seat, sakusa peered at the window and was met with the furious face of your ex. scoffing, he slid into the driver's seat and let the window roll down to come face to face with the man you called your boyfriend several hours prior to what had just happened.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ex spat in anger as sakusa glared back equally as bitter.

“enjoying myself.” sakusa boredly stated as your ex’s face twisted into an expression of horror upon noticing you climbing back over to the front passenger seat with your clothes now back on, but appearance definitely disheveled.

“with that bitch?” the man outside of the car hissed as sakusa blocked his view.

“first of all, that so-called bitch? mine now, should’ve been from the start actually and secondly, get your disgusting presence away from my car, i’ve already had it deep cleaned this week and thanks to you, it’s gonna have to go back to be cleaned thoroughly again.”

your ex scoffed before backing up slightly.

“whatever, get the fuck out of my parking space though, and you,” he started past sakusa and directly into your eyes. “this makes you just as bad as me now so get off your high-horse.”

“actually,” you spoke up, hand resting on sakusa’s forearm to calm his peaking rage. “it doesn’t. kiyoomi was just a friend throughout the entirety of our relationship, he should’ve been the one to have been more than that though. it was never you.” you spoke briskly and cooly as sakusa smirked beside you.

before your ex could even open his mouth, sakusa let the windows slam but up before pressing the ignition.

“let’s just get out of here, you’re tired and it’s been a long day for you.” he offered a small smile as you nodded. outside, your ex was still yelling and begging for answers as the two of you took no notice. firing the engine back up, sakusa didn’t bother looking back before slamming onto the acceleration and speeding the two of you back through the streets and onto the main highway to take you back to his apartment where the two of you had things to talk about.

there was a lot lingering in the both of your minds, but you were certain the two of you were finally on the same page.

sakusa was upset you were hurt, but it didn’t matter now. you were his and over time, he’d help build you back up again, hand in hand, he wanted to put the time and effort into you that he had been wanting to do from the very start.

there weren’t a lot of people sakusa kiyoomi allowed close to him, would go out of his way for, would even care about for that matter, but as always, each and every time, you were exempt from that.

++ TAGLIST! @crescenttooru @miss-angel-ash @sarahvvictoria @babierin @omisluvr @s0utien @toobsessedsstuff @omibaby @kenkodzu @sugabeaniee @lovesunas @slutawara @bunny-on-crack @shouyouorange @memorableminds @whootwhoot @yikes-buddy @sweetsamus

#LMAOOO I FUCKING HATE THIS #I WANNA REWRITE IT SOMETIME </3 #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut #shut up and drive series!

667 notes · View notes

ktheist · 4 years

Text

pretty girls don’t get hurt | m

synopsis. your mom has been asking you for a grandchild - not even a son-in-law but the baby to said nonexistent son-in-law! and your dad is hitting an age where he can barely work anymore. at some point you’re going to take over his position as the chairman of the family hospital but you know nothing about medicine. that’s where kim seokjin comes in. he’ll marry you and become the chairman so you can keep your ceo position and you’ll get a child out of him too. it’s like killing two birds with one stone.

except there’s one problem: you’ve never met the man and you need him to agree to the marriage first. okay, make that two problems.

muses. heir!doctor!seokjin x heiress!ceo!reader x best friend!heir!taehyung

words. 15.6k

contents. slowburn. sexual tension. impregnation kink. daddy/older men kink. viagra is involved lmao.

warnings. matured content.

verse. knj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

“you want my what?”

seokjin’s jaw hangs loose, brows coming together in a show of frustrated bewilderment. it’s tells you enough that he heard you the first time but then again, you’re not asking him for dinner. you’re asking him for-

“your hand in marriage.” glossed lips curl upwards underneath the pristine white cup of hot coffee from the vending machine.

you watch as his widened eyes narrow. lips smack together and finally anger settles in the muscles of his hardening expression. “you’re joking.”

it’s understandable that he’d feel offended. even more so when it’s coming from a stranger who strode right into his office and introduced herself as the chairman’s daughter - the ceo. that’s probably the only reason he agreed to spare you his time - and you’re spending it for this.

it’d be a lie if you say you weren’t surprised that he didn’t know the ceo of the hospital he’s working at but judging from the way he treats you, like he has better things to do - lives to save, you know he’s that type of person. the mad scientist version of a doctor. doesn’t attend annual dinners. doesn’t take off days. he’s perfect.

“dad’s getting old and he needs someone to succeed him but i don’t know anything about medicine - i’m more of a businesswoman and the board wants someone of a clinical background to continue the tradition. if it were up to me, medical expenses would be much higher per patient but i’m also not a capitalist so i need someone on the field to tell me how things are at the hospital so we don’t overcharge nor do we undercharge.”

his eye is twitching at the end of your words and his jaw is clenched in suppression of agitation. at this point, you’re going to have to keep it short so not to drop the whole bomb on him before he himself explodes. “so how bout it? you marry me and become the next chairman and i’ll take care of all the non-clinical related matters. if you were to decline... i can’t guarantee things will remain the same after dad retires.”

“my break is over. it’s nice meeting you miss ___ but i hope we don’t run into each other again.” the chair screeches backwards when he stands up abruptly before you can even finish your sentence. he didn’t even check the time when he swipes his phone off the table and slips it right into his pocket. his words are as clear as day: this is the first and last time we meet.

“you still have ten more minutes, doctor kim.” for some reason he hasn’t stormed off - dare you say, he’s even taking what you said seriously - good. because you’re not here for a laugh either. you meet his heated gaze with ease. “i’m not sure you understand but you’re the cinderella and i’m the prince charming.”

you take out a single midnight scented card and slide it over to seokjin. “and this is a proposal, not a blackmail. call me when you’re ready to talk about the terms for the prenup.”

it’s been a week since you left your card with seokjin.

now, sitting in your office, the scene keeps replaying in your mind like a broken record. a scream erupts in the otherwise pleasantly silent room as you slump in your seat, hands digging into your hair as though if you rub your head hard enough, the memories would fade away. “taehyung, how did i even get that confidence? a prenup? he didn’t even say yes!”

the aforementioned man spares you a glance from the couch he’s lying on before going back to typing away on his phone. it’s probably yuju - one of his recent acquaintances. if you remember correctly, she’s the daughter of sbs’ ceo.

“boys are simple minded beings, give it another day and he’ll call you.” he casually assures, this time not even look away from his phone.

the sleek back hair and black button down underneath seokjin’s white coat flashes at the back of your mind. you don’t see that many doctors wearing something that needs ironing to work that often. sure there’s a dress code but your dad isn’t strict about it - all that mattered to him is the quality of one’s work. for all he cares, these doctors can come to work in pj’s. it’s you that had to make sure they don’t come in pj’s. collared t-shirts are acceptable. so are sneakers instead of heeled shoes. but kim seokjin was nothing less of button down, a well made tie and polished black shoes.

it shows that-

“he’s a man, not a boy.”

this time, taehyung’s fingers freeze on the screen before he turns his cheeks to you with an unfazed expression - as though he’d expected this but still got disappointed when he hears it. “so it’s his age? you wanna marry him because he’s nine years older than you?”

there’s something about the way he singles out the reason you decided it was seokjin, that makes you look away in shame. but you still force out a laugh in a last ditch attempt to brush it off but it sounds awkward in every octave. “ha ha ha ha what are you talking about? he’s the most eligible marriage prospect - that’s why.”

“there’s another one.” he points out. still unconvinced, “that suho guy - he’s also a fellow. also an only child-”

you speak over him,“-but his background is so-so. civil servant parents. went to an ordinary school. you think he’ll adapt to the pressure as quick as seokjin?” suho’s smiling picture peeks from underneath the documents you’d been reviewing before the flashback of your bold proposal comes and haunt you. it’s his resume along with every physician working at the hospital for more than eight years, that you’d obtained from your dad’s secretary. “you know whoever becomes my husband and assume the chairman position is gonna get chewed out alive by the board. it has to be him - it has to be seokjin.”

a sigh echoes from somewhere across from you as taehyung sits up, brows furrowed together as he rubs his head as if it’ll make the the problem go away. “yeah, but he left the social scene a decade ago. you think he’ll walk back in just like that?”

“his records have been nothing but remarkable. he sticks around and works overtime. he’s been one of the most consistent physicians that worked on every holidays. doesn’t take off days. basically a workaholic who loves his job way too much - he doesn’t need to enter the social scene. not when i’m his wife.” a grin spreads across your face by the end of it - all this time, you’d been reading the report about him but once you’ve actually put it in words, the chances of him saying yes seems to sound more real, “he’s gonna keep working as the chairman and ignore anything the board says. he’s perfect.”

“yeah, okay let’s say he is perfect and there’s no reason for him to say no except one,” taehyung pauses for a more dramatic effect, lips twitching upwards slyly as if he knows it’s already got you on the edge of your seat, “what if he has a girlfriend he wants to marry?”

and that’s when your world comes crashing down like waves against the rocks but you don’t like the smug look on taehyung’s face, “yeah but with his schedule, it doesn’t seem like he has one.”

“you never know - they could very well be living together. plus, it’s not like he has to report his dating life to the hospital and he seems like a private enough man to keep it on the low even from his colleagues.”

his words are barely registering but the longer the second stretches on with your thoughts running wild, the faster your heart seems to race. but one thing’s for sure. taehyung’s here because you’re supposed to be discussing the partnership.

“if you’re not gonna talk about work, then get out.” your eye visibly twitches - all of a sudden your best friend since you were in diapers’ presence serves more as a nuisance than a blessing.

“you’re mad, aren’t you?” a grin spreads across his lips before he bursts into laughter - he’s the only person that would laugh in the face of death, “man you’re full of ego - i guess you should be. i mean, if all else fails, he might just say yes because of your face, right, sparky?”

he’s using that nickname he used to call you when you were kids. your love - or as taehyung would put it, obsession for shines and sparkles in diamonds peaked at the age of ten thanks to your mom’s hobby of collecting dimes. she’d sold everything off after she got bored of them and needed space for the arts she bought - her new found hobby. but you remained true to your love for diamonds and symbol of riches and bought half of her collection.

over time, he starts using it less and less and only for reasons to get a rise out of you. where did that cute boy who called you sparky because he thought you were as pretty as the diamonds, go?

all he is now is a devil incarnate. with that height and silly grin of his, he easily antagonize you. and you always give in.

“you’re supposed to be on my side and give me assurance!” you toss a balled up paper, aiming right in his face but instead of hitting the mark, he easily catches it.

“how’s this for assurance? you’re only gonna hurt yourself if you throw a ball like that.” he picks his blazer off the handrest and makes a beeline for the door when he senses the smoke coming out of your ears, “i’m late for my date, see you later!”

it’s exactly fifteen hours later that you receive a call from seokjin.

instead of meeting up at the cafeteria, he’d directed you to flower child, one of the most coveted fine dining restaurants in seoul two days after the call. it turns out he’d made a reservation - and you’re no fool to the long waiting line to get a table. he must’ve booked it some time after your first meeting.

he’s made some effort into putting on a black blazer and matching pants. hair styled to perfection. he may have cut his family off but he hasn’t completely abandoned the way he lived up till a decade ago. you allow yourself to check him out once - when he’d stood up at your arrival and pushed the chair for you.

thankfully, you’re not too underdressed. a creme blouse and grey pencil skirt suit any kind of formal setting.

“have you thought about what you want to include in the prenup?” you ask after the server leaves with your order.

seokjin seems more collected this time. or maybe it’s the incense and dimmed lighting that gives off a more suitable atmosphere to talk about marriage.

either way, you don’t expect the man to chuckle - a short, wistful one. as though he truly, honestly believes- “why would you want to marry an old man like me?”

you know what he’s asking: there’s got to be a catch. straightening your back and crossing it over your chest loosely, you decide to come clean - the full truth. “you’re only thirty-four but i won’t lie - you have a price on your head, doctor kim.”

the server comes back with a small cart and a bucket of chilled red wine. you wait until he pours a third of both glasses and goes away. but seokjin doesn’t appear all that eager for your elaboration - it’s almost as though he’s already known. or at least expected that much.

“your mother is willing to pay anyone who marries you a whooping ten million if the lucky bride brings you back to your family.” you watch as he studies the density of the wine, twirling the glass gently with a sort of tilt on his lips like a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “but i won’t make you reconcile with your family. i’ve told you my intentions - i need someone who knows the ins and outs of the hospital since don’t have any clinical background and it’d be easier if we were husband and wife.”

it’s in that moment that seokjin tears his eyes off the wine and captures your gaze. in the absence of the sunlight, those brown eyes appear more black, reflecting the dancing fire on the incense. you feel naked and bare as he wedges his fingers in and tear open the windows to your soul. “don’t you have someone you want to marry, miss___? someone you love?”

taehyung’s silly grin flashes at the back of your mind like a solar flare you can’t erase - all you can do is wait until dies out on its own. you don’t realize your unfocused gaze is directed to seokjin in the split second you wait for your thoughts to gather itself. redirecting your gaze to the wayward reflection in your own glass, you let out a breathy chuckle. “yeah, well.”

it’s pathetic and embarrassing but you can’t even conjure up proper words. instead, you bring the wine to your lips, preferring to taste the bittersweetness of the wine than that of your own reality.

all you talk about for the rest of the night is matters pertaining the marriage. what he’ll have to endure and what he won’t have to endure. he doesn’t need to attend any of the social functions even if you’re married. doesn’t also need to concern himself with matters about his family - it becomes tricky when his family catches news of their only son’s marriage and want to be there for the ceremonious day.

“i don’t know what’s going on with you and your family but they won’t be invited if you don’t want them to be.” you fix him with one of your smiles. a tilt in the corner of your lips and a languid flutter of your eyelids before meeting his gaze. it always works - takes away the essence of the conversation and makes them focus on you so if he wants to throw your words back at you, there’s a leeway you could escape to.

until you couldn’t.

“it’s fine. i’ve been running away for the last few years - it’s time i face them head on.” he looks up from the steak he’s cutting - you still haven’t recover from the time he’d look at you in the eye and effortlessly tore your defenses like it was paper but there he does it again, splaying out your scheme like a dish best served hot, “besides, they won’t be invited but you can’t- no, you won’t stop them from showing up, right?”

it’s true. his family isn’t just any normal family. his father is a ceo of one of the most prominent cell phone companies in the world after all. you’d be invincible if you’re in good terms with your in-laws. or at least, if they think you’re on their side and want to help them get their son back.

but seeing as nothing gets past seokjin, you’re only left to either evade the question or full out deny it to keep your pride intact. either way, both options will only serve to confirm his suspicion - he may already know what you’re up to but verbalizing it is a different kind of pride-crushing. your lips curl into a smile - an irony of having been cornered in every direction from the man you thought you could wrap around your fingers.

but because your pride wouldn’t allow you to look like a fool and your ethics wouldn’t allow you to tell a flat out lie (half truths are alright), you decide the first option is much better. “there’s one more thing - i want to get pregnant within the first year of our marriage.”

or else, you’re going to end up like your parents - their bones weren’t as strong as they used to be by the time they got you and their souls were withered from the works they’d put on in their better years of their lives. your mother’s life was risked by the late pregnancy. still, they tried to love you better but there were things you couldn’t do with parents who were hitting 50 before you even reached high school. you couldn’t go camping or bike riding or fishing like your grandfather brought your father to.

it seems to have caught seokjin off guard when he stares at you with wide eyes a tad longer before dropping his head and chuckling to himself, “my, i don’t know if i still have it in me.”

and that’s how you know he’s messing with you - perhaps it’s his own way of reminding you that he’s too old for you and if he’s lucky, it’ll scare you away from the idea of marriage altogether. but the fact that he’s trying to make you give up means that he’s agreeing to the marriage. you let your lips curve into a smile, adrenaline rushing through your veins and into your very core.

you absolutely can’t wait to get married.

the marriage will be held within five months - it’s the earliest you can get. it’d be suspicious if you just suddenly got married without any scandal or news of dating the estranged only child of the kim family. you’ve already hired a reporter to follow you during your first three ‘dates’ - they may very well be the only dates you go on together judging from your packed schedule. it’s been almost a week since that dinner and you’ve made plans to appear in public together - your first date.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait for the light on the handle to turn from red to green - a signal that the owner’s allowed you access. “hey, you ready?” is the first thing you say, even though you know he’s not.

“miss ___, i’m sorry i was working and didn’t realize the time.” he seems to be genuinely apologetic - and there’s an x-ray film and some papers strewn over his desk to verify his claim. “i’ll freshen up and -”

his brows lift in surprise when you lower yourself on his lap just as he pushes the chair backwards to stand up. the usually gelled light brown hair falls over his face in a messy middle part and his button down is less crisped than when you saw him the first time. granted your first meeting with him was at noon - it’s not enough time for the demands of his career to dishevel him. it’s evening now.

his jaw slacks just the slightest bit, resulting for his lips to part - you’ve noticed their plump fullness and it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t wonder about how they’d feel on yours. the taupe acrylic on your thumb digs into the soft pink flesh of his lips before it travels to his chin.

“may i?” two words. and that’s all it takes for something lustrous to take over his eyes. you find yourself smirking when he stares quizzically as your hand leaves his face and brings his own between your lips. his fingerpads are callous from years of surgical training but they don’t tremble under the touch of your tongue. his digits are lengthier than you expect them to be. his middle finger hit the back of your throat easily before you can get them all in but he’s not the only one that’s received training.

you switch to his ring finger, tongue gently curling around it before you drag your teeth over the ridges of its joint. as a finishing touch, you make sure to lick the bottom of your lips all the while holding his gaze. then, you allow the smile to grace your lips as though nothing happened but the way you pretend to struggle to get up, causing your ass to rub against his arousal - defeats that false sense of innocence.

either way, his surprised expression turns to an amused one as he chuckles a low chuckle - an admittance of your victory, “my, i just lost, didn’t it?”

“whatever do you mean?” you blink, lashes fluttering with feigned innocence.

articles are starting to pop up after your personal reporter uploaded hers. it’s not enough to shake the world but it’s enough to catch the eyes of secretaries which in turn tell their bosses and as a result, your phone’s been blowing up and your own secretary has been taking calls since this morning.

“___, you’re leaving already?” taeyeon cups the mouthpiece of the phone she’s been on for the last five minutes, alarms going off in her eyes at the thought of your absence. you don’t blame her - from the way the conversation seems to be going, she might just drag the whole telephone all the way to your desk and make you answer them.

business proposals must be pouring in. you feel bad for your secretary but to be frank, the instant ringing as soon as she held up the last call - has been bothering you to no end as well.

you grin sheepishly, “i got a meeting with dad.” it’s just a coincidence that your dad called you to his office today - he usually does every once in a while just to ask how you’re doing and lament about having to handle your mother’s random burst of hobbies she’s getting into ever since you moved out.

looks like nobody’s noticed the ‘rumor’ yet from the way the workers in the administration department bows and greets you on your way to the office. granted, these people are too devoted to their work to pay attention to the latest business scandals but you expected at least one person to be blowing up the group chat with pictures of you and seokjin’s first date.

there’s a familiar figure leaning against your dad’s desk but no trace of the elder man - he must have went to the washroom or something. you thought it odd when taehyung’s eyes fall on you without the usual grin he would usually offer whenever he sees you - like reflex. at first, you assume his own date with yuju probably didn’t go very well.

“hey, loser. this is the first time you’re here earlier than me.” you fix the man your own grin, happy to be able to see not one but two of your favorite persons. taehyung’s been coming over to play at your house since forever. it was normal for your dad to invite him to his office and take you two to lunch now that you two have grown up.

...until you notice your dad on the couch and another person sitting adjacent to him. it’s easy to miss people when they’re sitting down and easier to have your eyes focus on taehyung’s tall frame.

the tension almost crushes your lungs as soon as you walk through the door. it becomes apparent all too soon that taehyung tried to warn you with his eyes to not be your usual idiot self. now, you’re paying the price for it as all eyes fall on you.

the third person in the room turns his cheek towards you - seokjin. he offers a too polite smile as you come to a stop next to the couch he’s one.

“daddy?” all of a sudden, you’re a child in a room full of adults and calling your out to your dad, as if it would somehow make him explain this situation you just walked in.

the elder man releases a long drawn sigh before speaking, “i’d like a word with my daughter and doctor kim, if you don’t mind, taehyung.”

“sure, uncle.” the aforementioned man offers one of his gallant smiles, pushing himself off the desk without taking out his hands from his pockets.

you grab onto taehyung’s arm as he’s about to pass you - pleading with your eyes for him not to leave you, a mere ant, with the elephants in the room. that’s when his serious facade falls through and he’s grinning at you like a brother would to his sister when he knows she’s going to get in trouble with their parents. your temple throbs with a burst of rage but before you can say anything, he’s already out of the door.

the sweetness of the tea mrs. nam served is tasteless compared to the tangible tension in the air. it’s become apparent that while the more tech savvy staff remain clueless of your updated dating status, your father, is not.

be it as it may, guess you should give credit where it’s due - seokjin’s expression is free of any tautness. it’s perfectly neutral - it’s frightening. you know for a fact you’re not saved from a hard line on your glossed lips and a crease between your brows.

“i heard from my wife that you two are dating.” the elderly man finally breaks the silence.

he’s addressing your mom like that so to make it known that he’s talking to seokjin too - and you’re not the only one in hot water. but seeing as it’s your idea and your proposal, it’s also your responsibility to respond-

“that’s correct, sir.”

-but seokjin beats you to it. it’s not just his expression but his tone is completely at ease. almost as though he’s faced tense situations like this one too many times.

you breathe out before speaking, “i was going to introduce doctor kim to you and mom once we bought our engagement rings.”

your dad finally looks up, eyes wide and mouth slacked for the briefest second before his eyes flutter close. now’s about time for him to be rubbing his temples from the headache but instead, he lets out a sigh. for a split second, you see your dad for the age he is - not the age you remember him as in your earliest memories. wrinkles and smile lines and graying hair.

the seconds stretch on as do the silence. you can hear the distant ringing of the telephone all the way from mrs. nam’s desk from outside, almost clearly.

once your word settles in, then comes the million dollar question, “do you two love each other?”

it’s a no brainer. anyone with eyes can see and answer that for you - or perhaps taehyung already told your dad since he must have gone through a similar interrogation session. and yet, it’s only natural to want confirmation from your own daughter instead of her best friend even though he knows everything about her.

this can only go two ways: yes or no.

but you’ve never been fond of flat out lying, especially to the man who taught you such principles and you’ve talked about marrying for convenience with them ever since you realized that ambitions tend to reward but cheap sentiments like love does not.

yet your chest feels heavy having to go against your parents’ wishes and hopes for you - they want what any parent want for their child. happiness. “no, we don’t.”

“but no one enters into a marriage with divorce in mind. i don’t plan on just being a husband to your daughter just on paper. i’ll care for miss ___ and treat her the way like a queen. that much, i promise, sir.” seokjin holds your dad’s gaze - it’s haunting and charming, you would know. you’d been on the receiving end once too many times already. and you know that’s how he gets your dad.

the older man nods, shoulder line relaxing almost as though he’s been lifted off a dead weight. he’s not the only one - you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until you feel your own muscles loosening and you’re breathing out in relief.

until his head snaps up to point out one thing, “you’re getting married yet you’re not on first name basis?”

“sorry to rope you into family drama, i’ll be more prepared next time so you won’t have to leave your work.” is the first thing you say once you’re in the elevator. your dad has made sure to grill you to half-death with his questions. he’s gonna give the immigration a run for their money. the first name basis matter is just the beginning of a series of dread -

‘what’s my daughter’s favorite color?’

‘dad, do you even know my-”

‘shh. do you know my daughter still wets the bed at the age ten?’

‘dad!’

seokjin had taken your dad on in stride. he chuckled when your dad said something ridiculous, borderline false and he listened on when your dad went on about the sob story of a ‘poor father with an undefeatable daughter’. but the way he did it was so effortless - almost as if he was a boyfriend visiting your parents and getting told all the embarrassing stories of your childhood and would tease you about it but at the end of the day, tells you he thinks the kid-you was cute - bed wetter or not.

there’s something that restricts your airway at the thought of sharing a feeling so strong with someone. in no time, you push the intimate image away. you and seokjin aren’t like that - this is marriage is strictly convenience-based.

“i asked a friend of mine to cover for me.” so he knew it’d be long but he didn’t actually said it was okay either. marriage is a tricky subject especially for someone as work-crazed as seokjin. you’re surprised he hasn’t cursed you out for making him miss work. “is it red?”

“what?” you blink, steps halting as you stare up at him with what starts to be mindless curiosity but ends up with a stretched on pause as you study the man’s visage. the plumpness of his lips is a given- it’s the first thing you noticed about him.

“your favorite color.” the corners of his lips lifts upwards before he includes his assertion, “you’re always wearing something red - your lipstick was red when we went for dinner. you have a red blouse on now.”

even you didn’t know you have so much red. but it’s true - your functions and meetings wardrobe consists of red and black predominantly besides the more neutral pastel colors. you have a higher success rate of getting sponsors when you wear the tight fitted red dress.

but it’s not a preferred shade per se.

“no,” you chuckle, “my favorite color is yellow, like the banana.”

seokjin’s brows rises at that. he probably didn’t expect that - nobody expects the fierce and confident woman to like such a bright, clarifying color. “though i understand why you think it’s red.”

his lips curl into a smile - the kind of smile that mimics your own, not the one that he wears to charm your father. though that one was also genuine, this one makes him feel younger. like someone you can crack silly jokes with instead of the ever uptight working man.

before he manages to say anything, your name reverberates across the lobby. taehyung’s shrugged off that ugly grey checkered blazer of his and left it at the sofa as he mini run towards you. the grin on his face gradually falls off when he notices the lack of smile on your face.

“you left me for dead!”

he blocks your fist with a hand around your wrist before sighing as if you’re not just directing every ounce of energy in that punch of yours - but then again, none of your smacks really get to him.

“i didn’t know uncle was gonna ask me about that - i thought it was gonna be the usual lunch. i mean, come on, i waited for you down here even though i have work to do so i can make sure all your limbs are intact!” he looks like he almost meant it. almost.

it’s in that moment that seokjin’s remark reminds you that he’s still there, “you two must be close.”

“huh?” taehyung narrows his eye at you as though you’re no more than gum under his shoes while you whip your hand out of his grasp and scoff.

“nah, i’m her only friend.”

“it’s because he doesn’t have any other friend.”

you both say at the same time.

at least seokjin’s still able to laugh with all the intention-to-kill in the air. before you can elaborate on how taehyung kept following you around like a lost puppy when you were younger, seokjin’s hand finds its way around your shoulder, you thought it odd that he needs to pat on the shoulder farthest from him but it turns out he’s pulling you towards him but by the time you realize it, you’re already craning your neck to look at him. but you barely notice the awkward position of his lips on the spot just above your left eyebrow - his lips really are soft. and warm.

and gone.

before you know it, he’s pulling away, saying something about seeing you later - you couldn’t hear it from the blood rushing in your ears and the heat rising on your face. it’s only after you see his white coat disappear around the corner do you finally take notice of the slyly grinning fox in front of you.

“what did i tell you? simple-minded beings.”

you still don’t know why seokjin kissed you on the forehead.

sure, he told your dad he’s not planning to just be a husband on paper - okay. but he’s nowhere near a husband to you yet and you haven’t even given him an engagement ring. it doesn’t help that your heart keeps racing every time time the image of his sharp jaw and pursed lips before he kissed you, plays at the back of your mind.

he smelled good too - like aftershave and lemon and a hint of disinfectants.

before you know it, you find yourself rapping on his door eight minutes past 7 in the evening. after a whole solid minute of the red light on the door handle remaining the same color, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding. it’s supposed to be past his shift but judging from the lack of response from the other side of the room, you know straight away that he’s still at the wards. it may have been an impromptus decision but now that you’ve walked the distance from your office to the other end of the building, you might as well go the extra mile and actually look for him.

most of the nurses and doctors that pass you recognize you, bowing briefly before hurrying to where they were heading before they saw you. you rarely visit the cardiology department - or any other department for that matter because it’s always a hassle for the staff to prepare to greet you. in that aspect, you agree with seokjin - that they could be doing something better than pushing their schedules on their colleague to accompany a sightseeing vip.

“miss ___?” a young man around your age calls, his brows furrow at the idea that his eyes could be fooling him but when you turn to him, his eyes light up in pleasant surprise, “it really is you. why - i didn’t know you were visiting today.”

“doctor kim,” you don’t forget a face easily - right before you is kim suho. the smile that stretches when you recognize him is telling enough. his past achievements are definitely to brag about and he must have attended the annual dinner if he recognizes you, “good evening. this isn’t an official visit - actually, i’m looking for someone. do you happen to know where doctor kim seokjin is?”

“seokjin?” he repeats the name with a sort of familiarity, coupled with confusion. of course, he’s probably wondering what the work-crazed doctor did to have the ceo come all the way to the wards.

“miss ___?” it’s feels almost deja vu - having your names called out by two different people within the span of five minutes. both sounding equally confused but for different reasons.

“good evening,” you fix seokjin one of your alluring smiles, heart skipping a beat - it’s probably the stethoscope hanging over his shoulder. it compliments the collared button down and white coat, look you usually see him in, “i went to you office but you weren’t there so i came here.”

“let’s talk in my office.” he clears his throat, eyes drifting to look to somewhere on his left before he stops himself. if it’s the whispering nurses at the counter he’s worried about - he shouldn’t be. because you’re about to put a ring on it.

“sorry, i was doing my last rounds but the patient was a chatty one - i lost track of time.” he says, walking into the office and setting the stethoscope down on his desk before he takes a seat behind it.

you notice the way his eyes travel from your perfectly pinned up hair down to your diamonds adorned neck down to the halter strap of your elegant maroon dress that wraps around your body flawlessly. but he doesn’t say a word - and you’re forced to school your expression to not show your surprise and hurt when he doesn’t even let his gaze linger for any longer than necessary as he meets your eyes again.

you take out the suede velvet box from your purse and place it right in front of him. “it just came in, why don’t you try putting it on?”

his eyes twinkle with a surprise not because of the foretelling shape and characteristics of the box, nor the affirmation of the silver band inside it but because it sits snugly around his ring finger when he slips it on.

“how did you get my size right?” the impressed tone laced in his voice makes your chest swell with pride and lips curl into a smirk.

it only takes him a few seconds to interpret your smirk - that time in his office. the ghost of his digit on your tongue still lingers. it wasn’t just for show and you weren’t cruel enough to put a man through that misery if you didn’t have your own reasons.

he shakes his head, ring bluntly glinting as suppresses his chuckle with his hand.

your heart is beating too loudly in your chest - there’s something in the way he’s bearing your claim but you still manage to sound leveled and collected. “since we’re officially engaged, do you mind if i call you seokjin?”

“i’d like that very much, ___.” he’s finally dropped the suffix. ms. this, ms. that. you’ve gotten used to it but it serves to enforce the invisible line between you and him when he addresses you so formally.

your phone buzzes in your purse - it must be taehyung. you didn’t expect to spend longer than ten minutes but he must be waiting at the lobby if he’s texting you now. standing up, you bid him a parting “have a nice evening, seokjin.”

he doesn’t seem like he has anything on his mind but just as your hand covers the handle of the door, he speaks up, “once we’re married, could you refrain from going to these functions?”

it takes you off guard. like a spear that pierces you just as you lay down your armor but you’re not one to let something like this get to you, “i’m afraid that’s not possible.” and that’s it. it’s final.

but you should have known when you decide to use that practiced icy tone, that seokjin wouldn’t just back off the way almost everyone would. the only people who would still have the gal to say something or dismiss it are your parents and taehyung.

“i know you expect me to be an obedient husband and become chairman and do my job. it shouldn’t matter if you attend these functions since you’re not forcing me to go with you.” and there’s those eyes again. tearing into the soul of your window and stripping you bare the way only kim seokjin could. “but marriage is about compromise - giving up one thing for the other. i’m gonna inherit my dad’s fortunes and you’re gonna get that 10 million my mom promised. shouldn’t that be enough to get the projects for the hospital rolling?"

when he says it like that, it seems so easy and simple. “no wonder you’re a doctor. you don’t know a thing about maintaining a sustainable business.” you let your lips curl briefly, “but i’ll think about what you said.”

then, you’re out of his office. heels clicking against the floor as you make your way to the lobby and into taehyung’s familiar sleek black burgatti.

“so he asked you to stop coming to these functions.” the car rolls to a stop right in front of the hall where the birthday party of seollyu’s president is held.

“in essence, yeah.” you say after he comes around the car and your hand automatically tucks itself in the crook of his arm.

“then why are you mad?” the car purrs behind you before the valet takes it somewhere to park it.

some of the reporters at the entrance calls your and taehyung’s names in an attempt to make you look at the camera. there’s too many and the lights are blinding - you just want to get into the hall quickly. at least they won’t be able to follow you past the doors.

“i just - i don’t like that he’s asking me to change, you know? just because i’m married, i won’t get to do the things i usually do before? that’s just bullshit.” you huff in frustration - not bothering to hide your stiff eyebrows and slightly pursed lips all the while you have your pictures taken. at best, they’re going to slander you with jealousy over taehyung’s new budding romance.

“i mean, he did cut his family off and stopped going to these things.” the man shrugs, “maybe he has a good reason - did you even ask him why?”

and that’s how you know you’ve lost the fight. taehyung’s too sensible - naturally, he wouldn’t have his own startup at such a young age, if he isn’t the way he is now. but you don’t want an analyst - you want a friend who would listen to you and let you vent your frustrations before finding the root of the problem and suggesting the solution.

taehyung knows this and he knows plenty of many things, having been your childhood and best friend all in one package. but because he knows you too well, he also knows you’ll end up doing something you would regret if he were too late to point out your mistake. sometimes you want to prove him wrong - that you can call the right shots when it comes to people without having him paint a picture for you to foresee the outcome but so far, there’s limited exhibits of your success. your failed past relationships being the prime examples.

“i hate it when you’re right.” you grumble, letting your hand fall to your side - usually you wouldn’t mind having to cling onto taehyung like a child. you’re all the other has in these functions - everyone has their own reason for attending and just like absolutely everyone, you approach people because of what they can give you. that’s why you see groups of people your age flocking together - they grew up trained to sniff those with ill intentions and those with a mutual interest.

and usually, they’ve known each other at a very young age - the way you knew taehyung for as long as you can remember.

you have other friends too - or rather, they’re people you single out to be of no threat to your business and could even become partners someday. like sowon - her bright amber dress making it seem as though a ball of fire is flitting across the hall. you’re about to wave at her before you notice a more furious fire burns in her eyes.

“you bitch!”

all of a sudden, your neck is craned in an awkward angle. the blaze on your cheek settles a little later than the realization that sowon just smacked you right across the face yet when you turn back to her, hands clenching and unclenching in suppression of rising anger - she’s the one with tears in her eyes. “i trusted you.”

oh boy.

the host hasn’t even made his speech and the crowd’s already excited. the widespread whispers don’t go past you - some of the people in your periphery doesn’t even bother hiding leaning into the person next to them while stealing glances your way. but you doubt the woman in front of you would notice anyone here but you.

“ladies, there’s plenty of me to go around.” taehyung speaks from next to you, his smooth baritone echoing off and reaching anyone within five feet. you know he’s doing this to cover for any other possible misunderstanding - after all, this isn’t the first time you’re trapped in a scandal between taehyung and one of his girlfriends.

sowon loathes taehyung though.

but it doesn’t matter as long as everyone thinks it’s just another day of you getting in between the budding romance of taehyung and his female acquaintance. you can already see the expressions of the guests falling - probably disappointed at the not-so-news news. but there are also those who snicker underneath their breath - probably one of taehyung’s past acquaintances. it’s no secret taehyung would choose you over them in a heartbeat - and it’s been established when taehyung appears at a function with another woman once and appear to the next five with you until a new poor soul takes that woman’s place.

what can you say? your best friend’s a charmer. but the downside is, you don’t have that many female friends at functions. and one of the few you do have, you’ve managed to piss off.

sowon’s sniffle tears your attention away from the crowd. flushed cheeks and puffed eyes. you’re not close but you’re acquainted enough to know she’s a woman of pride and confidence. she wouldn’t lose her cool over a man - well, at least not a licentious man like taehyung. and that’s the only reason keeping you from bitch slapping the pride off her. the sting on your cheek is nothing compared to the injury your pride sustains - all because what’s left of your conscience wouldn’t allow you to return the slap.

deep down, you know you deserved it and more. your insides churn painfully. all of a sudden the dress around your body is two sizes too small. it’s suffocating - the whole room is suffocating.

“after everything i told you - you had to go for him?!” her scream could almost burst your eardrums if it isn’t for the blood rushing in your ears.

it’s easy to think she’s referring to taehyung. somewhere from across the room, the crowd starts clearing out a path - looks like the host has caught wind of the commotion sowon has caused.

you want to curse her too. hurt her with words as much as she hurt you with her physical assault. but instead you find yourself dropping your gaze.

“i’m sorry, sowon.” is all you say before mr. jung and his army of secretaries approach you and bring you two to different rooms. by the time dinner starts, sowon isn’t around - it’s understandable, her pride wouldn’t allow her to let these people poke fun at her.

but you don’t survive this world you’re born in by running away - you survive it by developing skin as untouchable as scales. so you stay until desert, smiling with a sore cheek and conversing with those who you know would be neutral about the incident, like nothing happened.

taehyung sticks closer to you. he doesn’t ask if you’re okay - you’re not. but when you tug on his sleeve and timidly murmur you wish to go home, he does so without hesitation. it’s times like these you’d choose him over the world.

the tabloids love gossip. a sensational, popcorn-worthy scoop. there are two divided groups thanks to that. the first one is devoted to the belief that it’s a love triangle between you, taehyung and sowon. the other one, choosing to dig deeper than what’s on the surface, believes it goes way back. ten years back.

“sorry, i should have told you sowon was my ex-fiance - it didn’t occur to me until i saw the articles that you two might meet at a function.” seokjin finally says, the strawberry ice cream beginning to melt in its paper bowl when he asked you to ‘at least, let me cure your injury,’ - you didn’t, in a - make that ten - million years picture it to be in a form of an ice cream bowl he bought from the mini convenience store next to the cafeteria. it was to hold it on your cheek but you couldn’t just let good food go to waste.

it hurts to even smile but you can’t help it at the thought of the rumored half-mad doctor using his break for something besides working some more. coupled with a shake of your head and the plastic spoon trapped in between your lips, you look just as insane.

your heart still clenches at the recollection of the other night, “i knew you two were engaged.”

his shoulder line straightens just the slightest bit as he lifts one eyebrow, not completely surprised but neither is he unfazed. so you continue, “it was by pure dumb luck that you turn out to be the best marriage prospect for me but i thought she was over it since it’s been years.”

there it is again, the churning in your stomach. like something’s eating you from the inside. if you focus enough, you can hear the voice inside your head scoffing - even if they’d just broken up yesterday, you still would have proposed to seokjin, maybe even the day after said break up.

this time, you don’t look away when his eyes meet yours. you let him strip your armor down to your very core. show him just what kind of person you are - the person who wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her ambitions. wouldn’t dwell cheap sentiments like friendship. even if that made you - as sowon would put it - a bitch.

then, he lets out a heavy sigh - the kind of sigh a parent would do when their kid got in trouble and admitted their fault. so now he can’t lecture you on morals and ethics because you have your own principles.

if anything, it reminds you of the glaring difference in your age - the things he’s already experienced that you’re about to someday. the betrayals. the broken friendships. the choices between what you want and what you need. he’s probably seen this all before.

“is an old man like me really worth all that trouble?” the tiniest of smile graces his strong feature. eyebrows wavering with something you can’t pinpoint.

“well, there’s a doctor - kim suho.” this time, you don’t bother pointing out his not-even-that-old age. the way his eye twitches barely noticeably tells you he doesn’t expect your answer. a moment later, it becomes too apparent, from his troubled expression - brows stiffed and jaws tight, that he doesn’t like the idea of you asking for another man’s hand in marriage. you have to tell yourself to refrain from smiling, not because your cheek might hurt again but because it’s probably not a good time to tease him.

deciding to release him from his own misery, you quickly elaborate, “but he has an average background - no matter how much experience he has, you don’t just get on your knees and start slithering with the snakes. you have to be born into the family. so yes,” you place your ice cream on the coffee table, hand pushing back a strand of hair to appear more delicate and win his favor while you let a furtive smile adorn your face - and there’s a smile he’s suppressing too because he knows what you’re trying to do, “this old man is definitely worth it.”

his shoulder line seems to ease up as he tries to hide a relieved sigh by clearing his throat. but it’s short lived when the crease between his brows returns and a newfound tension settles in space on the couch separating the two of you, “yes, but suho was never the one i should be on a look out for, was he?”

you blink but he’s already shaking his head. a smile on his face, “never mind.”

things seem to settle down - everyone at the hospital knows about you and seokjin now. and you’ve managed to convince him to finally use his off days to spend it on preparing for the wedding. cake tasting. dress and suit fitting. deciding on what color the napkins should be - a month ago, you approached seokjin with the mindset to make him agree to marry you. after all, prince charming was the one who had it all - it didn’t make sense to have cinderella do all the wedding planning.

he was mad at you for some reason - it lasted for quite awhile until you directly asked why he’d been given you the cold shoulders. “you keep playing a two man game by yourself.” he sighed when he said those words - because he saw in your eyes, that you thought there was nothing wrong to be finishing what you started by yourself, “we’re getting married - we’re gonna become a team yet you keep making decisions by yourself.”

ever since then, you started asking if he wanted to join you to the cake and dessert tasting, napkin color picking. you didn’t realize how nice it was to do things with another person than decide it on your own.

and somewhere along the way, you started teasing him more.

“if the saying ‘men age like fine wine’ is a person,” a grin slips over your face as you shamelessly give seokjin is a once over, “then you’d be the embodiment of that.”

he doesn’t seem to mind - rather, he seems like he’s enjoying the attention as he chuckles and shakes his head. probably thinking there’s no saving you and your compliments now.

“come here.” it’s the way he says it - with a smile on his lips and eyes that says you’re all he sees and hand extended to capture yours, that makes you jump from your seat. the front of the dress bunched up in your hands as to not trip over it and right into his arms. just like moth drawn to flames.

he pulls you up over the platform that he’s been standing on and lets you stand in front of him, hand on your shoulder as you stare in front of the 3 part mirror in the boutique. the dress you have on is a light gold dress with a sweetheart neckline that wraps around your curves flawlessly down to your knees and flow out like a mermaid’s tail. seokjin has on a traditional cobalt blue single breasted suit with three buttons fitting around his waist perfectly. his hair is gelled back the way you specifically requested.

he gave you a quizzical look as though wanting you to elaborate on your reason for that request but you’d only left him with a kiss on the cheek and a ‘see you on monday.’

if there’s one thing you learned about seokjin, it’s that he’s devastatingly unaware of his strong features that makes every woman’s legs turn to jelly and every man’s heart skip a beat. and he chooses to hide it under that usual middle parted style.

seokjin’s reflection bends down but his eyes remains on you as he whispers against the shell of your ears, “you look exquisite.”

you have half the mind to push him off and run away in case he’d ear the erratic beating in your chest but he probably already knows from the way you shyly look away. the you from a year ago would laugh at what you’ve become - the kind of girl that gets flustered and can’t form a proper sentence in the presence of a male. but before you can respond, a boisterous voice from the sofa you were sitting at, announces, “alright, next!”

your teeth clench together as you whirl around to face taehyung’s silly grin. that cockblocker - he knew you were having a moment and went out of his way to ruin it. “what are you even here for? don’t you have something better to do?”

for once, taehyung isn’t on his phone. you wouldn’t mind it so much if he’d just ignore you half of the time whenever you hang out. “your mom tasked me to find you a perfect dress since she can’t be here.” there’s a glint in his eyes - something ratchet and devious but his lips curve like that of an angel.

you don’t miss seokjin’s tightened jaw and stiff shoulder line as he helps you down the platform. ever since taehyung showed up ten minutes into fitting, seokjin’s expression has been switching from that suave smile to looking like he has a splinter stuck in his thumb - a human sized splinter that goes by the name of kim taehyung.

you never thought you’d live to see the day when kim seokjin would harbor any sort of animosity towards someone - he’s probably a strict supervisor, but resentful? can’t be.

you chalk it up with the plain fact that anyone who’s not head over heels for taehyung would want to skin him alive on the early stages of getting to know him.

“hm? seokjin’s not here yet?” you ask once you’re back from the fitting room, having slipped into an ivory trumpet shaped dress. it’s a much simpler design compared to the one you had on which makes it a perfect counter part for the after party. “that’s a first, the lady finishing first than the guy.”

“oh, it’s not that unusual.” taehyung snickers. guess that just shows how confident he is with his skills.

“i’ve never been this tired and i’ve only tried on three dresses.” instead of entertaining his remark, you choose plop down next to him.

“sparky, does he love you?” it’s that nickname that gets you.

there are only two circumstances where he would call you that: one, when he wants to annoy you and two, when he’s feeling nostalgic. guess it’s finally hitting him that you’re no longer kids chasing each other around in one of his mansions. you’re both grown up and one is trying out wedding gowns.

“uh, me and seokjin are about to get married, taetae.” you throw in a nickname of your own just to lighten up the mood.

but all it does is lift the corners of his lips into a wistful smile. and that’s how you know you can’t be telling your half-truths. and evading his question isn’t working all that well either. “it feels like we can talk about things more openly now - but no, i don’t think he does. he’s marrying me to become the next chairman and i’m after his money and maybe get a kid out of him too.” a knot forms in your stomach - something about what you said doesn’t sit well with you but this is what you wanted. this is what you prepared for the moment you decided to ask seokjin for his hand in marriage. you shouldn’t hope for more.

the laugh taehyung lets out is reactionary. humorless. “can’t you wait for me? i know i’m in no position to ask - but can’t you?”

two years and three months ago, when you were a little youthful, had a little more stars in your eyes - maybe you would’ve said yes in a heartbeat. with every birthday you celebrate, fear rears its ugly head and reminds you that time isn’t an illusion and you know better than to bet on something - someone you're not sure you can win.

your heart aches a similar way it did two years ago - but you know now it’s not because it’s breaking to pieces. instead it’s hurting for the pieces of that young boy you could never hope to complete using yours. it took awhile but you know how to get back on your feet - but it’s not all that simple for taehyung. only he can fix his broken pieces.

“i stopped, taehyung,” you finally say, gaze burning holes inside the lace material of the dress, “the moment you told me you can’t - i stopped loving you. i’m glad i did because it wasn’t love. i was just scared to lose you like you’re afraid to lose me now,” you tug on his hand to get him to look at you and he does - all of a sudden, you’re both eight, inside your own bedroom with your dolls and his remote control cars strewn across the floor, “but you’ll always be my taetae and i’ll always be your sparky - i’m always gonna be here for you.”

you thought he’d changed. it’s nice to know he still uses a fruit scented shower gel when he brings you into a hug. the piercing sweet scent isn’t as strong as you remember it. the hug lasts a bit longer and his body is trembling slightly but you know it’s going to be okay - even if he packs up and leave for a foreign city like two years ago when you told him you loved him and you had to hunt him down through your wits and will (that damned private investigator accumulated a fortune to last him for probably ten years). at the end of the day, you’ll come back to each other. because the bond you’ve formed is thicker than the blood coursing through your veins.

“if he makes you cry, you come to me, okay?” you can’t even be mad when he ruffles your hair before picking up his blazer and shrugging it on. by the end of it, you’re both smiling - though his remains wistful, yours is sanguine.

it’s only after taehyung’s figure disappears through the door, do you notice the feeling of a pair of eyes burning holes inside your head.

“seokjin.”

the man is leaning against the door where his changing room is. you don’t need to ask why his brows are strained and the lips that would usually grace you with a smile, is pressed into a tight line.

“i never knew-” seokjin stops himself, lips pressed together as though he doesn’t want to say it, but he does with a shake of his head, “-no, i did know there was something between you and taehyung.”

you end up in seokjin’s apartment. the whole ride has been stiff silent. it’s the first you’ve seen him so disheveled. his tie hangs loose on his neck as though he’d yanked it without a care in the world and forgot about it. the first two buttons of his button down are undone. what once was his perfectly sleeked back hair disheveled from having been mussed up.

the hot chocolate seokjin made you is losing heat the longer you hold onto to it for the sake of having something to do with your hands. “i proposed to him two years ago and stopped loving him as soon as he turned me down - taehyung, he... he’s got a lot going on. that’s all i can say. i hope you don’t misunderstand what you saw.”

his eyes turn as round as saucers for the briefest moment before they flutter to their original almond shapes. shoulder line shaking from chuckling - but there’s nothing funny about any of this so you keep your eyes on him. if he needed confirmation of the truth you’re speaking, he need only search it in the windows of your soul.

“that’s very like you, ___.” he finally says.

you’re not sure what he meant but you’re not about to ponder on it either, “is there anything else you’d like to know about me, seokjin? there’s no reason for me to lie to you - we’re about to get stuck with each other for the rest of our lives. we should at least be able to talk about our past openly.”

when he doesn’t seem to have any other inquiry, you decide to let go of your pride - the reason you never asked was because you were too proud to be wrong. growing up, there were only a few people that you let poke fun at you and fewer you’d let prove you wrong. it dawned on you some time after you’re all showered and ready to go to bed one night - that you’re about to let seokjin waltz into your life and he’ll bear witness to your most intimate side. he’s about to be said one of the fewer people.

“then, my turn - why did you want me to stop attending social functions? i’ve been doing it my whole life - i’m good at it. and i’m not planning to stop just because i got married unless you have a proper reason for asking me to.”

the way his gaze drops tells you it wasn’t just a baseless request. you reach out across the counter, slipping your hands into his. that seems to have brought him back.

“my parents chose to attend a function instead of staying by my grandfather’s side even when the doctor told them he wouldn’t make it til morning - they weren’t even sorry. couldn’t even stay throughout the whole funeral.” he shakes his head almost as though being hung up over it was ridiculous yet couldn’t move past it either, “it’s ugly what too much wealth does - i just- i’m sorry i asked such a thing from you. it’s my own problem that i have to deal with, you don’t have to stop.”

it’s not hard to put yourself in his shoes. you understand where he’s coming from - you want to tell him that but somehow words are cheap. especially right in this moment.

so without thinking, you slip off the stool and walk around the counter until you reach him. the last thing you see before you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to your level, is his wondrous gaze.

the man doesn’t flinch away from your touch nor does he welcome it in any way. but the longer the seconds stretch on, the more you realize how idiotic and awkward it is to hug someone you barely know - it worked for taehyung but that’s only because he knew you preferred action rather than words.

“i’m not gonna stop completely but i won’t go as often - it’s getting boring anyway.” you nonchalantly say - or at least try to sound like you’ve lost interest in the function on your own. you haven’t been to any since that incident with sowon, waiting out for the rumors to die down is a better choice.

the body in your arms is unresponsive as ever - you would think you’re hugging a dead body if not for the heat of his breath fanning your delicate skin. maybe he’s just too nice to push a lady away. just as you’re about retract your arms, a warm hand rests on your hip. his touch is soft and gentle - as if he’s handling a porcelain doll while you’d just dragged him down to you without even considering how uncomfortable the angle would be given his tall broad frame.

his body vibrates when he lets out a short breath like a brief chuckle, “you’re very generous with your hugs.”

your brain short circuits when the man raises his head from your shoulder and rests his forehead on yours - it reminds you of how woman you are. even when he’s sitting he still hovers over you. his free hand cups your jaw, thumb lightly pressing on your lower lip. so this is what it felt like when your roles were switched - is he going to give you a false sense that he’ll kiss you the way you would him?

“may i?” he’s smiling when he repeats your own words - eyes trapping the ray of sunlight that pours over the wall-window like an illuminate waterfall. for the first time since you know him, you’re scared. not of what he will do but of what you want him to - but he won’t do.

your train of thoughts dissipates along with your worry the moment his lips touch yours. gentle. yet the hand pulling you into him is possessive. something in your stomach churns with butterflies.

you want to say you don’t know how you end up with your stomach pressed against his crotch or how his semi-hard arousal started rubbing into your abdomen. it’s supposed to be awkward but it isn’t and you know he’s refraining from addressing his aroused state to avoid making it uncomfortable for you - even though every time you shift and lean into him, you see his the gentle bob of his adam’s apple. it makes you want him even more. he leans into your touch as soon as you reach for him like moth drawn to flames.

“right.” he declares as if he’s been reminded of something when he comes in contact with one of the ridge of the rock on your middle finger. it’s your own engagement ring you ordered with seokjin’s. when the man spoke about getting you one, you’d held up your left hand and told him you already had one made. in fact, you never took it off since the day you put it on - which was the same day it came it.

understandably, you’re always wearing more than a ring on your hand - it’s easy to mix up between the ring from your personal collection or a ring of promise. especially when you didn’t tell him you got one made for yourself.

the hand on your cheek is warm as it brushes against your cheekbones, your rolls off his tongue like sweet honey, “what did i ever do to make you think i don’t love you?”

you blink once. you heard his words but your mind isn’t registering anything. but it seems your heart has seem to figure it out from the way it’s accelerating, you’re afraid seokjin might hear it. “wh-what?”

all of a sudden, you have this urge to pull the invisible blinds of his wall-window and hide from the peering rays of the sun. seokjin’s airy gaze. your fallen dress strap. the gentle protrusion in his pants. your own mussed up hair - you want to keep this moment all to yourself.

he pecks your forehead one last time. this lips curling into a smile - he knows you heard him. loud and clear and you have a feeling you’ll be hearing it at the most unpredictable moment from now on. so there’s no rush.

“where should we go for dinner?”

seokjin knows they call him the doctor version of a mad scientist. he knows a plenty of many things. like how he’s more strict with the junior physicians under his care. but that’s only because if he treats them below their potential, they’ll end up being that.

but the part where suho jokingly told him that he was crazy for working on holidays - maybe he was.

he’d moved out as soon as he turned 18 and eventually cut off his parents. before, even if it was just for show, he still got to see them during those functions they held.

but by the time he graduated college and started interning as a doctor - he was already erasing part of his existence. and his parents didn’t seem to notice. it made it cutting them off effortless.

but then, loneliness - pure, unadulterated loneliness started to sink its claws into him. so he turned to work even more. built his life around it.

by the time he became a fellow, he had absolutely zero social life. the only human interaction he had was with his patients - but they come and go. sure they’re grateful for him - and since the private hospital he’s working at is frequented mostly by the richest, he’d received gifts like cars or gold bars from one of his elderly patients who were convinced they were going to die - until they woke up from a successful surgery done by seokjin himself. but they eventually forget him.

and of course, he returned those gifts. he’d be no different than his parents - than the people he wished not to see anymore after he left that world. but the one thing he thought he wanted - the one thing he thought would make him happy, started to burn him out. every birthday was just a reminder that he’s half the age his soul is.

he’s worn and tired and losing sight of that man he told himself to be by a certain age.

that is, until you came along. at first, it was just courtesy that he listened to what you had to say - apparently you were the ceo. and quite literally, his boss. at first, he thought you were messing with him when you asked for his hand in marriage - no one just waltzes in and propose to someone they don’t know.

even those convenient marriages don’t go this way. but he’d accepted it anyway.

it has more to do with those eyes of yours than the chairman position. those eyes - they remind him so much of himself. the current him. except where his soul wanes, yours thirsts to thrive. like a dying cactus refusing to dry out.

you had thorns but picking them out wasn’t a problem - you’d been disconcerted at first but you’d quickly learn to use it to your advantage. telling him only the truth or nothing. since evasion and half-truths don’t work on him the way they would work on the people you probably surrounded yourself with. and he knew exactly what type of people they were.

eventually, you started telling him the blunt, honest truth. it threw him off a few times - like when you’d straight out told him that you knew who sowon was and still went for him. and that time when you admitted that he was the second man to receive your proposal - the first being that brat, taehyung. and then, you’d straight out asked him about why he didn’t want you attending functions anymore instead of ignoring his request like his parents would. or flip out of shame for having your lie found out. you were forbearing but firm. sometimes, it felt like you were much older than him.

but then you had a childish side to you too - it was food for his soul. every time he was with you, he felt like himself again. like that boy who applied for a job at the hospital with only his wits and his will backing him up. at first, he’d only saw that side of you in front of your most treasured people. your father. your mother. taehyung.

what you and taehyung have - seokjin will never come close to comprehend. a bond so strong, not even death could tear you apart. it became apparent too soon to seokjin that taehyung dominated parts of your life and he’ll only have a but a crevice of his presence in yours. your smile would always be a little brighter when you’re with the younger man. eyes always drifting away from him to taehyung.

and he was content with that but he thinks you’ve changed. or maybe it’s him that did. because you’re grinning at him now - like there’s something up your sleeves. and there is - his eyes widen at your brazenness. one minute he was admiring the way you lasted for hours in those heels that you just kicked off - you’d been wearing them starting from the ceremony to the reception and finally the after party but the next minute, you were grinning and pulling him with you down onto the velvet sheets. the your dress has ridden up to just below your knees in the process and seokjin’s caressing your exposed calf - he thinks you’re all the more delicate. your skin, too soft. he’s afraid he might bruise you.

“oh,” you speak into his mouth before pulling away without even a peck on his lips - but there’s a twinkle in your eyes when you pick up a small golden box that sat prettily on the night stand, “almost forgot. for you.”

“i didn’t get you a wedding gift.” he announces, pushing down the suspicion dominating his brain but how can he not pull out the ribbon to find out what you’ve prepared for him, when you’re looking at him like that? all grin and proud and saying something like you didn’t need one.

then his face falls and he’s looking at you deadpanned in the eye after noting the too familiar tablet of blue pills. but the frown doesn’t live long - he finds himself shaking his head. a smile wedging itself on his own face, “viagra. really?”

“better safe than sorry, right?” it's not right context - usually, a condom would be involved where that sentenced is used. but you know from seokjin’s dazed stare that he doesn’t get it - but he chooses to admire your features instead.

it takes everything in you not to bury your face in his chest just because his stare is making you feel like a high school girl with a crush. his eyes don’t make you want to reel away from him and cover every scar and lies with a thick blanket anymore. perhaps it has something to do with the fact that there isn’t any that he hasn’t seen. both your flaws and your virtue - if he wanted to run away, there were plenty of chances for him to do so but he stayed and now - now, you’ll never let him go. hold him captive in your castle, smooth criminal. you lean and press a kiss on his lips - just to make him close his eyes.

when you pull away, his lips chases yours. just like moth drawn to flames. you can’t help but giggle - it’s cut short when his hand weaves itself into your hair and bring you down to him.

you barely notice the hand that wraps around your wrist before your back hits the soft mattress. his shoulders appear more broad now that he’s hunched over you like a beast who hasn’t had a drop of water since the drought. at times like these you’re reminded of how man he is and how woman you are. a fact you seem to forget because he’s been playing along with your little games like a well-behaved child.

“hey, no fair!” lips pursed, you cross your arms in a show of protest. but he chuckles that soothing chuckle and he’s standing on his knees while the frame of his belt glints in warning.

your heart skips a beat at the sight of his arousal that was begging to be released from the confinements of his cobalt blue pants. the sigh he breathes out when he pulls down the zipper, sends shivers down your spine.but disappointment makes your face fall when he leaves it like that instead of pushing his pants down along with it.

that’s okay. you tell yourself. we’re married now-

you reach out for him only to have a hand wrap around your wrist, your fingers hovering achingly close to the gentle protrusion in his black boxers but not really touching.

you crane your neck to look at him but when your eyes meet, your words die in your throat. the smile is gone and in its place, is a tilted smirk, “are you sure? once we start i might not be able to stop.”

it’s that question that gets your heart writhing and crying to be set free from the confinement of your rib cages.

“seokjin,” the name tastes delectably sinful tonight, “i’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.”

maybe it’s the vow you’re making on the absolutely zero occasion where you’ve been this rapt by a man. maybe it’s your out of character use of the curse - that’s just how much you want this. or maybe it’s both. either way, seokjin’s gripping handfuls of your dress and you wordlessly raise your hands up for him to pull your dress off you.

it’s the way his eyes travel down your body. hunger. madness. lust. they meld together in those darkened eyes of his yet you’ve never felt so safe. he dives in for a kiss. this time, it’s raw and passionate and has no intention to stop halfway - not after he made it clear that he couldn’t and not after you pleaded for him to take you.

your white cotton bra is first to go - you only wore it because the straps won’t contrast too much with the strap of your dress. initially, you were going to tease him a bit and disappear into the bathroom to change into the lacy black lingerie set you’d specifically ordered to be custom made by victoria’s secret. but with the way he’s kneading your breast in his palm and the way you’re clawing against his clothed chest like a ravenous creature - the lingerie can wait.

“take off your clothes.” in your head, it sounded more demanding - but it comes out breathy and begging. a part of you chide yourself for waving the white flag before the game even began but another part of you is tired of being the only one bare and naked.

there’s a godless gleam in his eyes the moment he heard your request and you should have known seokjin wouldn’t make it that easy for you. this is karma coming back to bite you in your butt naked state after all those times you spent teasing the man and him accepting it without any complaint. you thought he was just mature enough to get over it. it turns out he was just a beast laying in wait to claim what he deserves, “what’s the magic word?”

“please.” you answer in a heartbeat.

that same heart stops beating the second he shakes his head. no. wrong answer. “the other one - do you really think i didn’t notice? the way you tease me - the way you know i won’t do anything about it because i’m older, i have to be a bigger person?”

that’s when your pride comes crashing in like tidal wave. walk away, it says. you take back what you said about having nothing to hide from seokjin - there’s one. and you thought you’d keep it with you. let it be buried in your grave. but he knows - like he knows every layer of your existence. your every desire and compulsion. it’s disgraceful and mortifying, for you. but seokjin holds your gaze and wait, wait, wait - he doesn’t seem to share your thoughts - doesn’t look disgusted either.

“daddy.” the moment the word leaves your mouth, you feel liberated. freed. like a long overdue confession. the pleased look on seokjin’s face is everything and more. “daddy, please.”

“as you wish.” he’s your liberator. your freer. and he’s about to grant your one carnal desire.

his clothes hit the ground within less than a minute. you can’t help but gawk at his perfectly sculpted physique. it’s like gods personally descended the heavens and blessed him in his mother’s womb and stayed by his side up until now - only for him to scorn them right in this moment. your body bounces off the bed lightly when his fingers dig in your thigh, pulling you closer like a ragged doll. a small yelp escapes you.

your panties are the last to go. discarded somewhere on the floor along with yours and his wedding attire.

the first whimper escapes the moment he slips into you, but not fully. he lets you take him in, get used to his size and directs your hand to his lips before placing it on his shoulder. as if telling you, you can hurt him, claw him until his back is raw and bleeding.

you wouldn’t at first - opting to keep your hands fisted while you try your hardest to suppress every moan that erupts from your mouth with every stroke. but then he hits that sweet spot. your back arches forward and you think it’s that moment when your fingers break the delicate skin on his back - but you can’t remember. it’s a blur - the electricity coursing from your heart through your veins and curls your toes. the stars you see in the back of your mind and the way you tighten around him when the delectable sound of his moans brushes the shell of your ear as he holds you against him.

he almost crushed him underneath his weight when he pulls out of you. the traces of his arousal pressing in between your bodies as he forces himself up by propping himself on his forearms. his labored breath fans your face and he’s all you see.

there’s still a surplus of tingle in your lower abdomen how high he takes you - almost like cloud nine. and you’re slick with sweat and body fluid but there’s no where you’d rather be than here, in your husband’s arms.

five months ago, you approached him with the objective of gaining a husband to take the chairman position and maybe give you the grandchild that your mother’s been asking you for. you didn’t expect for anything more than what you bargained for. but the first time he told you how he felt - you still didn’t believe him.

it was too surreal. and seokjin probably saw the tendrils of doubt every time he tells you how he feels - at the most sporadic moment. but he kept picking your thorns one by one like he could do this for a hundred years and more. you think i was that day when he found out about your past feelings for taehyung that he started. and he finally picked all of your prickly spikes - and now, he’s holding you like a child. head buried in between your breasts, muscled arms loosely hugging your waist. what a contrasting different to the man he was half an hour ago but so very seokjin of him.

the elated breath he lets out with his sigh is warm on your skin, “you know how to make an old man feel young.”

there he does it again. he’s been saying he’s old even though he’s only in his 30′s. at first you thought he was joking but over time - you think he truly believes he is. but when you agree with him-

“is your back okay? wouldn’t want your ancient bones breaking.” you pat his head sympathetically.

almost as if you’ve pushed a that button with a flashy warning red on it, his fingers twine around your wrist and pull it away from his head. the bed shifts as he hovers over you with an aggrieved glint, “i’m sure there are greater things that little mouth of yours can do than express your concerns for my back, sweetheart.”

your heart skips a beat.

epilogue.

you love being married.

not because you can strut to seokjin’s office and have everyone know you have every right to be there. nor because the board can’t really say anything since seokjin fits every characteristics of a chairman either. but because-

“we’ve been at it like rabbits,” seokjin shoulder line jolts slightly when your arms gently wrap around him from behind but there’s a sort of mirth laced in his voice, “you’re still not tired?”

“what ever do you mean, dear husband?” your voice is sweet but not entirely innocent.

sure, you did it an hour ago and you’re both supposed to get ready for bed but when you stepped out of the bathroom and find the bed empty, you had to wander outside. you know he’d be in the living room reviewing past years’ reports in his preparation to take on your dad’s position. he could just step up first and get familiar with his job along the way - but it wouldn’t have been very seokjin to enter the battlefield without polishing his armor.

he smells like peppermint and lavender. donning a plain white shirt and grey sweats - it’s the second most dressed down you’ve ever seen him in compared to the white-collars you’re so used to seeing him in. the first, being when he’s in bed, of course.

“okay, well, i’m going to bed first.” with a peck on his cheek, you bid him a good night.

but it’s not in your nature to give up without a fight - or rather, without sauntering in front him in your pastel pink camisole. you put on the a black and gold corset on your first monthivasery - it was just an excuse for you to try on the lingerie and it paid off. but there’s just something about camisoles - floral or plain pastels are what gets him prancing on you like a hungry beast. it looks like you’re not the only one with a fetish.

the cleaner comes in every twice a week and you’re not here enough to mess up the place except the master bedroom - like seokjin said, you have been going at it like rabbits. still, you bend down, making sure your ass is perked a little higher as you rearrange the picture frames on the rack under the tv.

a tune of your favorite song vibrates against your throat for thirty-six seconds before you straighten your back and begin to walk towards the bedroom. but something you caught in your periphery halts your steps, “did you just check out my ass then bite your lip? ‘cause if you did we’re having sex. right now.”

that seems to catch him off guard - you’ve been finding new and creative ways to get fucked. some worked. and by worked, you mean it had you moaning and writhing as he took you raw. some failed. meaning he had relented mainly because you were asking and he wanted to please you - at times like those, he was the one lying down, watching you ride him but halfway through, he’d pulled you down and started fucking you missionary because ‘you were good darling, but watching you makes me want to personally fuck you senseless. you can ride me next time, i promise.’

either way, your work life is superb and your sex life is out of this world. especially with a husband like seokjin. guess that dry spell has finally lifted and unleashed the hungry beast in him.

seokjin sighs, eyebrows coming together in a troubled frown but the lump in his pants say otherwise. “when you’re sore and need me to walk you to your office tomorrow, remember you asked for this.”

something in the pit of your stomach churns. your heart races with adrenaline as he takes two steps with those long legs of his and close the distance. a yelp escapes your lips, not expecting him to hoist you over his shoulder like you weight nothing and landing a smack on your ass like he’s reprimanding you.

“seokjin! put me down, i’m heavy!” you cry out, smacking his back in protest. when you wanted him to take you, this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind - it’d be a completely, perfect lie if you say you weren’t dripping with excitement.

“this way’s faster than your tiny little legs, darling.” you can hear the smirk in his voice before he kisses the exposed skin on your hip.

note: and that’s it. but it’s not over yet! there might be drabbles coming up on our fav couple’s adventure as they try to get preggo lmaooo also i’ll be doing a ‘story time’ where i talk about the background of this fic - what inspired me to write it, why i titled it like the way i did and i’d like to dissect and oc and tae’s relationship and so much more. send me an ask if you have something in particular you want me to address from the fic!

if you like this fic feel free to check out namjoon’s version called good guys finish last. i’m also planning to turn this au into a series for every member. taehyung or yoongi will be next!

#bts smut #kim seokjin smut #bts seokjin smut #bts #kim seokjin #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts scenarios #seokjin fanfic #seokjin fic #seokjin scenarios #kim seokjin fic #kim seokjin fanfic #kim seokjin scenarios #bts seokjin scenarios #bts seokjin fanfic #bts seokjin fic #bts x reader #bts x yn

2K notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

16K notes · View notes

starlight-vixen-emiko · 3 years

Text

Hopeful Promise

AO3

I was going to post the fanfiction.net link as well but right now fanfiction.net is not cooperating with me! I’ll post it later, I apologize.

Anyway, good evening lovebugs! I apologize I that what I am presenting is just a oneshot again.

This is one is one of the WIPs I posted, where Marinette and Luka have a romantic picnic and Luka wants to ask Marinette something......

Yeah I am still not giving the context for that just read it and find out.

Enjoy! <3

~~~~~

Luka wondered if it would be too much to introduce the idea to her.

His girlfriend Marinette was prone to panic, but this question has been eating at him even if it was a bit of a bold question to ask when they were still teenagers.

But he just held that thought as the two of them found a picnic table by the flowers. Marinette smiled at him as she opened up the picnic basket and cut croissants in half. She spread cream cheese on both slices and placed blueberries on one slice, and sliced strawberries on the other.

Luka smiled in anticipation. Marinette was about to hand the blueberry slice to Luka. But he took both slices and placed them together before taking a huge bite. He gave pleased noises from the sweetness of the berries and the freshly made croissant.

"Hey! We were supposed to share that!" Marinette teased.

"Sorry," Luka said before wiping berry juice from the corner of his lips. "It tastes so good."

Luka handed the sandwich back to Marinette, and she took a bite herself. Giving multiple pleased moans as she wanted to eat the rest.

After the two of them finished lunch, Luka wiped the last bit of berry juice from Marinette's lips before sucking it off his own fingers.

"That was an amazing lunch melody," Luka said, smiling at her.

Marinette grinned. "Anything for you, Luka."

Anything.

It was at this moment that Luka knew she loved him as much as he loved her. And that made his heart feel so strong. But they were still so young.

The blue-haired boy reasoned with himself to just place that question on the back of his mind for now. He grabbed his guitar before climbing over the picnic table to sit next to Marinette. Luka played gentle tunes as Marinette rested on his side.

God, Marinette's gentle body against his, causing his heart to beat faster and his guitar playing to be more passionate. Whether or not he asked her, he certainly knew his own answer.

"Is something on your mind?" Marinette asked.

Luka lost his tune for a moment. Then, he paused his guitar playing because he had to admit he was a bit nervous right now. Even if he was usually considered the calm and collective person in their friend group.

"Nothing in particular," Luka lied.

Marinette paused before turning to her boyfriend, and her bluebell eyes looked right through him. Beautiful bluebell eyes like a gentle lagoon on a starlit evening.

Luka continued to play that gentle tune to calm his nerves.

"I was thinking about," Luka paused as he tried to keep up his tempo. "How it's a beautiful day today and how I am happy to be spending time with the most amazing girlfriend in the world."

Marinette smiled, but she didn't seem very convinced.

"And I am going to be dreaming about delicious fruit croissant sandwiches for the next few days," Luka added.

Marinette gave a pleased hum. "You always know how to compliment me."

Marinette gave a devious smirk and booped his nose for a moment, causing Luka to smile. Yes, she was charmed by Luka's energy, but she knew he was stretching the truth a bit.

But Marinette let him be as she laid beside him and relaxed to his soft tunes while lacing some flowers together. When she finished, she took a moment to sit up and tie them around Luka's neck.

He smiled, thinking about how she was always sweet and giving.

Little did she know she had a question weighing on her mind as well.

"Luka…"

Luka's aquamarine eyes shined at her. Something that still made Marinette blush rose-red even though they were long past the honeymoon phase of their relationship.

"Yes, Marinette?" He set his guitar down for a moment as he loved hearing her voice much more than any instrument.

Marinette smiled sheepishly and placed her hand on the back of her neck, automatically feeling that she was sweating.

"Well, we have been dating for a while, and…."

Luka waited for her to collect herself, but Marinette still felt so nervous.

"I was going to ask you something crazy," Marinette said.

Luka gave her a calming smile. "I doubt what you have to say is crazy, Marinette."

Marinette blinked. "It is! Because we are still teenagers and…."

She suddenly felt her words stop. Marinette gave a soft sigh as if she gave up.

Luka breathed out and felt he should reveal what he wanted to ask her. Maybe it would make her feel less crazy. He was still a bit worried Marinette would be turned off by the idea, but if this idea was eating at him for, a while he should let it out. If it really was a bad idea, his gut would tell him not to.

He placed his hand under her chin and raised her head up to meet hers.

"I wanted to tell you something too," Luka said as Marinette's bluebell eyes widened. "But," he paused from his voice shaking a bit. "I am a bit nervous…."

It clicked for Marinette that he was about to tell her what he was hiding before. Marinette moved closer to him.

"Don't be nervous!" Marinette insisted. "I want to know!"

Luka chuckled to himself as his hand dug through his jacket pocket.

"I am afraid you might be a bit overwhelmed," he said gently.

Marinette knew she was prone to panic, no one had to tell her that twice, and Luka always made her feel comfortable and stable. She took his free hand with hers.

"You can tell me anything too, Luka!" Marinette cried, her eyes showing him that she was serious. "You always know what to say."

Now Luka suddenly felt at ease as he squeezed her hand and moved closer to her, so they were leaning against each other as if they sat in a love seat.

"I'll tell you," Luka said.

Marinette rested herself against Luka's shoulder as they sat in silence for a moment before Luka spoke.

"Well, we've been together for a long time, and I couldn't be happier," Luka said.

Marinette gently nuzzled herself against him. "I couldn't either! You're the best boyfriend ever, Luka!"

That was a relief for Luka to hear.

"But for the past few weeks, I couldn't help but think…."

"Hm?" Marinette raised her head to meet Luka's eyes. Her blue eyes sparkled to him, deep in curiosity.

"That maybe in the future…." Luka's face started heating up. Marinette squeezed his hand as if she was eager to know what he had to convey.

Luka breathed out as he tried to compose himself but looking at his beautiful girlfriend now, he smiled at her without a single doubt in his mind.

"I love you, Marinette," he said firmly. "And there is not a single doubt in my mind about that. But for the past few weeks, I couldn't help but think it would be absolutely amazing if we…." He dug into his pocket again.

"If we got married someday in the future."

On the one hand, Luka was relieved he freed that burning idea. But now, he started to question if he was a weirdo hopeless romantic.

But Marinette's mouth went slightly agape before she placed her hand over her chest and smiled warmly.

Luka guessed she wasn't upset at all, but she said nothing and dug through her backpack to pull out her sketchbook.

"I was a bit nervous because of what you were hiding," Marinette said as she held her closed sketchbook in her hands and leaned against her boyfriend. "But…"

She opened up her sketchbook, and Luka saw drawings of the two of them in adorable chibi anime style and wearing wedding attire. There were also the words "Marinette + Luka Together Forever" written in cursive.

Luka held the other side of the sketchbook. A pleased smile was on his face that made Marinette feel relieved.

"Alya and Kagami teased me again this as if they don't fantasize about marrying their own boyfriends!" Marinette cried.

Marinette retook Luka's hand and blushed bashfully, thinking about what could be in the future.

"But the point is," Marinette's face glowed brighter red. "I would love to marry you someday, Luka."

Her voice made a slight squeak saying that last part, but Luka adored that.

Marinette couldn't help but giggle next.

"It's funny how we both thought the same thing. I'm not an insane hopeless romantic!" Marinette cried.

Luka wrapped his arm around her and held her close to where she could faintly hear his heartbeat like a soft metronome.

"Kind of makes me believe that the both of us are made for each other, and we will get married when the time is right," There were hopeful notes in Marinette's words.

"I'm glad you agree, Marinette," Luka said. Marinette just wanted to rest by her boyfriend's side for the rest of the day, feeling secure for the future.

"Because I got you this."

Marinette turned and managed to stifle her yelp at the sight of Luka smiling down on her and holding a ring with a pink heart-shaped jewel on it.

"Luka!" Marinette cried. "You…" She became breathless.

Luka held her closer. "It's just a promise ring. I thought it suited you."

Marinette released herself from Luka's hold and gave him a slightly stern look.

"Luka, I told you you don't have to buy me expensive things."

Luka smiled. "I know, I saved up for this."

"You're more than worth it, though," He said as he moved the ring closer to her.

Marinette looked at the ring for a good moment. It was absolutely gorgeous and priceless, and Marinette almost felt she wasn't worthy of such a romantic gift. Not to mention all the money Luka put in for her, so she couldn't bring herself to accept the ring.

But then Marinette thought, this boy truly was ride and die for her. Even willing to buy expensive, flashy stuff to show how serious he was about them. And this was a dream come true for Marinette. No, more beautiful than any other dream she ever dreamt.

And she loved him. Her concerned expression melted as her heart skipped a beat, thinking how much Luka believed in what they had.

She smiled as she presented her finger, and Luka placed the promise ring on her.

Marinette was in awe, looking at the small diamond that was now wrapped around her. She just felt so lucky being loved this much, and she almost wanted to show it off to all her friends as if it were an actual engagement ring.

But she turned to Luka, who gave her his usual "I love you" face. Everything he did reminded her that she was loved.

"I love you, Luka."

Luka's aquamarine eyes shined like the sea, and his smile was as warm as sunlight.

"I love you too, Marinette."

Marinette moved in closer, so she sat on his lap and hugged him while resting her head on his broad chest. Luka gently hugged her as well, and they stayed in blissful silence for a moment.

Then Marinette broke the hug and eagerly jumped off the picnic table to pack up the picnic basket.

"Luka, let's go get ice cream."

Luka had to admit that sharing Andre's ice cream did seem perfect after he and Marinette made a promise. And he was craving more sweet stuff.

"Sure, Marinette."

Luka placed his guitar in his guitar case, and the two of them walked hand and hand.

But feeling Marinette's ring on her finger gave Luka even more blissful daydreams of a beautiful future together.

#endgame lukanette #lukanette #pro lukamari #my writing #my fanfiction #I nearly gave myself a cavity over this!

21 notes · View notes

stnscat · 4 years

Text

Ship: Mammon/Fem!MC

Rating: M (Mature)

Warnings: Alcohol, violence, cursing, some making out wink wonk

Summary: MC and Mammon go to a casino, but when Mammon gets too caught up in a scheme and leaves you hanging, another demon decides you’re easy prey. On the bright side you get to see why Mammon is the second strongest. Ends in angst/comfort.

So perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea.

You stumbled along the corridors of the casino, mind cloudy. You turned your head ever so slightly, and immediately felt your sight delay for a second. You stopped and blinked, trying to catch your breath. Psh, you thought, you were fine! Totally. You only had a couple, or maybe four shots. Everything went to Mammon’s tab anyway, so you weren’t counting. Or maybe you stopped counting after the third glass of whatever-ma-thing-california-tequila you had. It was sweet and nice and...

Actually, you felt a bit weird. This wasn’t a corridor anymore, but since when? You were holding your shoes because it was just so much harder to walk around in heels -- why had Mammon insisted in heels anyway? Heels were an invention to make women’s butts smaller and running away harder! That was a movie quote, you were pretty sure.

You sat down on a couch. It was black and felt nice to the touch. A cold breeze came from an open balcony, and while you did feel a bit chilly now, it also made you feel less... Weird. You weren’t particularly used to being drunk. Hopefully you’d sober up at least enough to remember most of the night tomorrow.

You looked down, elbows on your thighs, deep in thought. You were here so Mammon could scam people, and you’d be the pretty, well-dressed assistant to help take the “clients’” mind off of how sleazy everything out of his mouth sounded. Like a few magic words and “was that your card”s, it was easy money with cheap tricks, and he said you’d get a cut off of it. You didn’t need the money, mind you, you just wanted to spend some time with him. But he disappeared while talking to some people, leaving you at the bar while chatting to the bartender. As revenge for leaving his so-called partner you decided it was only fair to order a drink on his tab. And then another came, and another...

You squinted, feeling dizzy, and let out a breath. You put your head up, eyes closed, and took in the fresh air. If you kept your head down like this you’d only feel sicker, right? You opened your eyes again, and instead of an almost empty room you saw a stranger’s grin a bit too close for comfort, truth be told. You felt your stomach turn, and you were sure it wasn’t the alcohol.

“And you must be MC, correct?” she said your name with a strange emphasis to it, her grin never diminishing, like you do when thinking of an expensive meal you’ll treating yourself to after a long day.

“Yeah...” you hesitated. “And you’d be...?”

“Oh, just a friend of your friend. He asked me to take care of you.” she replied, a hand snaking its way up your arm. You were too drunk to react in time. It felt like both an eternity and too quick to process, your stare blank towards the action, and then you lazily looked up at her, painfully aware that you weren’t going to move quickly enough for anything. Yet, you felt your heart beat faster and adrenaline running through your veins. You knew damn well she was lying, no matter how smashed you felt. You sobered up a bit, and though not enough to actually be sober, it felt like enough to not stumble on your own feet if you ran. You didn’t know if that would matter, but it was better than the alternative.

The demon’s look was sickeningly sweet still, yet sharp. Like she was waiting for your move, to read if you actually saw through her poorly told lie. Your drunk mind trailed off to Hansel and Gretel’s candy house, and how it was used to lure them to the witch. And how you didn’t leave any crumbs for Mammon to follow you and hopefully save you. No, you were alone, and painfully aware of her grip on your arm. You tried smiling back.

“Ah, okay.” you replied, trying to pretend you bought it. “So, um...” you paused, trying to think of anything, absolutely anything, to keep the façade of oblivious intoxication. “Have you seen my friend? He’s like... Tall and dark and stuff. White hair.”

“I know, dear, don’t worry. I’ll take you to him in a second, if you’ll just come with me.” she pulled you lightly, surprinsingly gentle for someone who saw you as prey. You followed her lead, and for a second her grip on your arm was released. Your feet moved before you had a chance to think, and once you did you felt a sharp pain on your arm. You inhaled, not taking the time to look at the possible injury. You know the demon was at your back and would pounce if you slowed down for even half a second.

You slid from one corridor to another on your bare feet and ran down a flight of stairs, never having realized you were upstairs. You heard a groan behind you, and tears stung the back of your eyes. Suddenly you were tumbling, and everything stung. You know for a fact you didn’t trip. You felt pressure on top of you, only intensifying the pain, and black and white spots danced in your vision, but through them you could still make out the demon readying herself. You let out a pathetic hiccup and braced yourself.

Instead you heard a yelp, and the demon’s weight being lifted off of you.

Letting out the breath you were holding, you try to turn and look, a glimmer of hope in your heart. You grunt as your new aches flared up, but you still managed to prop yourself up with an elbow.

Right next to you was Mammon, demon form unleashed, holding the other demon up high by the throat as she struggled to put her feet down to no avail. He had an aura of seriousness about him, which, yes, you would expect from any of the brothers if you were ever hurt, but with Mammon it was different. You’re far too used to him gloating and boasting and jesting even when the situation is dire. But now you can’t help but notice there was no humor to his eyes. A tint of ferousciousness colored them instead.

“Tell me: what do you think you were doing?” his voice had a deep, cruel tone instead of his usual goofiness. He let the words hang in the air as the other choked, hanging just as much from his grip.

The position you were in began to hurt, and you tried to sit up further. A sharp pain blazed through your chest, and you wheezed, arm wrapping itself around the area. Shit, did you break something?

“Hey,” Mammon’s voice spoke higher than the pain. Cruelty no longer laced it, but it still sounded so much more serious than usual. “how bad is it?”

“Pretty bad.” you coughed back. You noticed the demon squirming more, and guessed he squeezed harder. “Don’t kill her.”

“I don’t, usually.” he paused, and the demon’s squirming seemed to stop as well. You could barely process it, but the next second a wall had been cracked, her body making more unpleasant sounds than your own. Your breath hitched, but Mammon wasn’t even paying attention to the demoness anymore. Instead he’d directed his attention at the staff members, who all seemed to be either gasping or gulping. “Get her information. Pass it to Lucifer. He’ll want to have a talk.” the scorn, disdain, hatred. All of it was clear in his tone.

And then he turned to you, changing from his bare chested demon form, to his previous attire that night. A simple suit, carefully disheveled, sunglasses on top of his head.

“Tell me if it hurts, alright?” his tone was kind now, barely a whisper. His hands were gentle as he lifted you up from the ground and walked out of the casino, carrying you. You placed your head on his chest. You could still smell his cologne as the haze from before eveloped you, this time both it and the exhaustion putting you to sleep.

You woke up to the sound of yelling outside your door. The dim light from the corridor was just enough for you to make out that you were back at the House of Lamentation, and that the bed you were in was yours. From there you could also hear people speaking loudly, the volume of their voices only increasing.

“... been so stupid, as usual!” a deep voice was exasperated. Satan or Lucifer, you’d say.

“Shouldn’t we just take her to a hospital?” another deep, but this time softer, voice. Beelzebub, you guessed.

“No, he said nothing was broken. It’s best she rests here, where we can keep an eye on her.” it was definitely Lucifer this time.

“You could’ve killed her, you know?” a soft voice snapped. Asmodeus. “How could you just leave her at the bar like that? Did you even notice she wasn’t there anymore?”

“I gotta say, that was a dumbass move even for you.” Leviathan chimed in.

Through all that Mammon kept himself quiet. That is, until now.

“I’ll apologize to her when she wakes up.” his voice was tiny, the façade of an egocentrical bastard completely gone. That seemed to surprise everyone, in fact, as there was no more snark thrown his way.

You understood. Yes, he shouldn’t have left you alone, but maybe you shouldn’t have overdone it like you did. You were mad you got ditched, but you didn’t blame him for being attacked.

“Alright.” Lucifer was the first to break the silence. “We’ll bring you some tea later.” Mammon probably nodded, as there was no audible response before you heard steps getting farther away from your door. Then it opened, and you instinctively closed your eyes as if to pretend you didn’t catch any of the previous conversation.

You heard someone approaching, stopping right next to your bed, and then kneeling. He searched for your hand on top of the bed, the slight cold from the lack of a blanket entirely covering your arm quickly substituted by the heat of his own hands. He held it for a second, and you felt your face burn with his stare. At this point you were sure it was Mammon. He sighed, almost as if to confirm your suspicions, and carefully placed your knuckles on his forehead. You felt a bit of movement on your side, like he’d buried his face on the sheets.

“I’m sorry.” he muttered, voice not above a whisper, muted further by the bed. He then moved your hand, lips gently touching it as he continued to speak, this time a bit more clearly “I should’ve been more careful. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.” he confessed, pain and regret finely threaded in-between his words. ”I thought you’d be fine. I didn’t know you would get completely drunk and run off to where I couldn’t see and... And it’s my fault, even if I put it like that. And I know it. I’ll do better.”

His hands squeezed yours ever so slightly, as if he was afraid to break you further.

“I’m supposed to protect you, damn it...” his voice shook. “I’m supposed to not be such a screw up all the damn time. I’m the second oldest, and if I can’t even protect a single human from one minor demon...” he sighed, letting the thought hang in the air.

“But you did.” you replied, attempting a smile. Mammon looked back at you, startled, eyes sparkling with what you weren’t sure were tears or not “I’m sorry I made you go through this.”

“You...” he stuttered. “Ah... You heard all that, didn’t you?” he sounded sheepish, looking away. “It’s not your fault. You know it’s not your fault.”

“And it’s not yours either.” You attempted to move your other hand, change positions. You wanted to caress his hair, tell him, show him you were fine and everything would be okay. Instead you hissed as pain shot through your chest.

“Ah! Hey, hey!” startled, he gently held your shoulder in place. “Don’t... Don’t do that. You’re already all purple and blue, you don’t need more bruises. Humans are too fragile.” he tried to go back to his usual persona, but it was much less effective than he was hoping for. He frowned, looking at the bandages on your arm, where you know for a fact the demon had put her nails and cut you. You weren’t sure you wanted to know how deep those went. “I’m sorry.”

“C’mere.” You simply replied, and before he could say anything else you put your hands on each of his cheeks, pulling his forehead to join with yours. “I’m okay. I’m here. And I don’t blame you.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Shush. Now, come on, I was saved by the Mammon. My knight in leathery armor, my first man. How could I ask for more?”

He chuckled back.

“So how much did we make anyway?” you asked. You hadn’t let go yet. You didn’t want to. Mammon was sitting on top of your nightstand at this point, comfortably pressed against your bed and you, and he, too, made no effort to separate himself from you.

“Well...” he trailed off, his cheeks burning slightly. “Ya know, it was s’pposed to be a surprise, but I don’t think you’re getting out of this bed ‘till after the weekend, so I guess I could tell you...” again he let the words hang in the air before adding “For a price.”

“A price?” you replied, feigning ignorance.

“C’mon, I’m the Mammon. My services, whatever they are, always come with profit for me, myself and I.”

You hummed in response, face inching closer. Now your cheeks were burning as well, noses tickling each other so close they were. “I see. And what kind of profit was the incredible, showstopping Avatar of Greed thinking of?”

“Hm...” he let out. His breath was hot on yours, eyes half-lidded. His hands held the bed frame, arms encasing you in his heat even more. “There’s a couple of things...” A hand moved, carefully, tenderly, to the back of your head. You lifted yourself slightly so it could be easily placed, which only made the two of you all the closer, lips almost brushing. You didn’t move away. He didn’t move either.

And then he did, pressing his lips to yours. Carefully, passionately, yet with an underlying hunger. You pressed further, fingers tangling in his hair. He was Greed personalized, but you had your own spells of selfishness. He noticed, his own cravings fueled by yours. He moved from your lips to your jawline to your neck, trailing kisses wherever he went.

“You--” he said in-between kisses. “That’s just one of the things you can do to pay me for information.” he had moved from the nightstand, now almost on top of you on the bed. Your heart beat fast seeing him like that. Disheveled, now with no care, no measures and appearances, simply messy because you did it and he wanted you to do it.

“Yeah?” you breathed out only to immediately bite your lip. You didn’t expect to be out of breath already. He placed his forehead on yours again, a grin spreading accross his face.

“Would you go on a date with me?”

#mammon #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #swd obey me #fanfic #my writing #obey me imagines #mammon x mc

1K notes · View notes

nightshade-minho · 4 years

Text

-Nightmare- (9)

Warnings: just some making out. Oh, and some angst.

Wc: 4k+

You stayed cooped up in your room for that entire day and the next afternoon, only coming out to heat up some frozen pizza in the microwave. You gave Minho nothing more than glances and tight nods. He tried to ignore the aching in his heart.

Sleep came fitfully that night. However in the morning, he felt himself being shaken awake, groaning as he grumbled. It was too early for this.

A few minutes earlier, you’d woken up to the sound of your phone incessantly ringing. You groaned, answering the call. “Helloo~, is this Minho? My name’s Sihyeon and I was wondering- ”

You sighed at the unfamiliar high voice, getting out of bed and going to Minho’s room, climbing onto his bed to shove him awake, phone still in hand.

He whined, shoving your hand away.

“Minho, wake up!”

“Whyyyy?” He asked, still half asleep, frowning as he refused to open his tightly shut eyes.

You crawled closer, kneeling on the bed as you poked his side. “Come onn, you have a ca-” You yelped when he grabbed your hips, flipping you over to his other side and pulling you close. He smushed your face against his chest, not letting you wriggle out of his grasp.

You stopped struggling after a few seconds. “I hate you.” You mumbled, as his soft snores slowly resumed.

You knew you were supposed to be getting over him, but it was so hard. He was so soft and warm...no. You told yourself again that he didn’t deserve your love. However, it was easier said than done, especially when you shifted a little, causing him to open his eyes slowly, gazing down at you. God, he has pretty eyes. When he noticed the position you were in, he quickly peeled himself away, sitting up with wide eyes.

“S-sorry...” He stuttered, averting his eyes.

You sighed, the loss of his warmth mimicking the coldness you felt in your heart. “It’s fine.” You sat up, stretching a little bit and yawning as you grabbed your phone. “Someone called asking for you. Her name was Sihyeon, I think.”

“Oh. I had sex with her like two weeks ago. She’s been bothering me ever since.”

You exhaled. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Come on, Y/n, everyone in school knows I only do one-night stands. And she wasn’t good enough to be a fuckbuddy.” He says honestly. “She should know my reputation by now. And hasn’t she heard I have a girlfriend?”

You groaned, rubbing your temple. “Speaking of which...when are we going to tell everyone that we broke up?”

He looked up at you, a flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Oh. I kind of forgot about that. Maybe a week from now?”

“Or...we could just break up right after the dinner. I don’t feel comfortable staging a scene in public...and I don’t want this to go on for any longer than it has to.”

“What?”

“Well, if it happened in front of Rina, I think she’d be less suspicious. We could like, stage a fight. Knowing Rina, the news would be all over campus in a second.”

He frowned, “I...guess.”

You gave him a tight smile, getting up to leave. He watched you, his hands twitching to grab your wrist, pull you back and tell you what he felt. But he couldn’t. He returned the awkward smile, a lump in his throat as you turned at the door.

“I’ll get ready at 7:00.”

You closed the door.

***

That evening, you sat in your room, looking in the mirror. Today, it would all be over. However, you knew the two of you could never go back to the way you used to be. Too many lines had been blurred.

You’d given up, more or less. This love was pointless. At this point, you didn’t even care about getting together with Minho. You no longer wanted him to fall for you the same way you did. All you wanted was your old friendship back. You missed the purity and love that used to be so abundant in your friendship.

You fixed the dress. It was black, sleeveless and had a skater skirt. Plain, except for some embroidered detail around the neckline.

You worried for a moment that you might be underdressed, but then reminded yourself that you didn’t have a reason to care. You brushed your hair and sat at your vanity, deciding to apply just a little bit of makeup. At least you could say you put in a little bit of effort. However, as you reached for your makeup pouch, your eyes landed on the polaroids you’d stuck on the mirror.

In one, 8 year old Minho was laughing with an ice cream cone in his hand, pointing a finger and laughing at your crying form, the scoop of ice cream previously on your cone now languishing on the floor. The camera had missed how he’d given you his cone soon after.

The other one had been taken by your mom, right before prom. Minho had been asked out by the popular girl who’d eventually ended up as the prom queen, however he’d said No. He’d known you were dateless. You chuckled at your braces-clad smile. Minho looked confident and smart in his suit, as always.

Along with the polaroids, there was a framed photo, taken after your 13th birthday party. It was your favorite photo out of them all, and also the one that hurt the most at the moment. In it, you were smiling, holding a peace sign up to the camera. Around your neck was a thin rose gold chain, a tiny treble clef hanging from it. Minho’s gift. Usually, you two didn’t really give each other gifts, choosing to make or draw something instead. It allowed more room for personalization and was more effort-inducing.

However, Minho had told you that 13 was your lucky number, and hence he had to put in a little effort into the gift for that particular birthday. He’d been saving up the money to buy it for 2 years. Minho was sat next to you, fondness evident in his eyes as he gazed at your grinning face.

God, it fucking hurt. You slowly peeled off all the polaroids, putting them all into the box along with your hairties, shutting it. You put the frame inside a drawer, exhaling.

You hadn’t worn that necklace for a while. You stopped wearing it around the time the two of you started college. Around the time you realized you loved him.

It was too painful to see a reminder of Minho every time you looked in the mirror. You told him you’d lost it. His expression had been indifferent when you told him. You’d even offered to repay him the cost, but he’d refused.

You bent down, pulling open the bottom drawer and lifting a box. Setting it in front of you, you sifted through the random items placed in it, pulling out the jewelry box at the bottom. Opening it, you felt your heart clench at the sight of its familiarity, and all the memories it dredged up. You lifted it out carefully, teary eyes trying to focus on your reflection as you fastened it around your neck, hands shaking a little.

You stared at your neck, touching it gently. You missed the feeling of the delicate metal against your skin.

***

When you walked out of your room, Minho felt his heart beat faster. Yeah...he’d thought you looked hot in your party outfit. But this? This was more you. The simple, clean lines of your dress...the way your hair was bouncy and natural...

Wait.

His eyes zeroed in on the necklace. His necklace.

He didn’t know what to make of it. His heart was pounding so fucking fast.

“I...thought you lost that.” He could feel a lump in his throat at the sight.

Your parents had gifted you your first guitar when you were eleven. The first time Minho heard you play, he’d known music was your true calling. And his was dance. It was almost like it was meant to be.

He’d been walking by a jewelry shop when he’d seen the necklace in the display window. It had reminded him of you almost immediately. He’d gone in, his heart dropping when he realized just how expensive it was. However, he didn’t wanna give up just yet.

So he started doing errands around the neighborhood. Walking the neighbors’ dogs, mowing lawns, etc. Small odd jobs that didn’t pay very well...but in two years, he’d somehow managed to earn enough money to buy it, just in time for your 13th birthday.

Words couldn’t express how happy he’d felt when you wore it every day for the next fourteen years. Then one day, you told him you lost it. What hurt wasn’t the fact that you lost it, it was your expression when you said it. As if it wasn’t really a big deal.

You followed his line of sight, touching your necklace. “Oh, this? I was looking through some of my old boxes and I found it.” You said with a soft smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice your red eyes.

“Oh.” He paused, looking like he was thinking, his heart doing somersaults.

Coming a little closer, he backed you up against the door a bit. Confused, you looked up at him questioningly, your heart thudding due to his propinquity. His fingers traced your neck, causing you to shudder as he lifted the studded clef hanging from it, his eyes holding an expression you couldn’t quite discern.

“Don’t lose it again.” He said sternly, eyes drilling into yours.

You nodded, staring up at him with your lips slightly parted.

Fuck, there it was again. That innocent expression that made him go crazy, made him want to ruin you. Before he could even realize what was happening, he was leaning in.

“M-minho?”

He opened his eyes, his expression disconcerted as he pulled away quickly, coughing. “Sorry.” He mumbled, cheeks burning.

You shook your head, “N-no, it’s okay.” You tried to calm your heart, peeling yourself off the door and fixing your dress. He nodded expressionlessly, heading to the sofa and sitting on it.

“So. Do you have a plan? What are we gonna do?”

You hummed, walking a little closer and sitting on the sofa, keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Well...I didn’t really think much about it. Hmm...however we do this, I think we should portray you as the good guy. I should be the unreasonable one. The whole point of this was to clear your reputation, right?”

Minho nodded. “I guess...so what are you planning to do?”

“I guess I’ll just pretend to be irritable and annoyed at you the whole time. Maybe I’ll make a big deal about you flirting with Rina or something. Just be polite, be yourself. I’ll handle everything else.” You sighed.

There’s silence for a few minutes, before Minho scoots a little closer. You turned to face him, breath hitching at the proximity.

He placed his hand on top of yours on the sofa, wrapping his fingers around it and placing it on his lap.

“I’m sorry.” He stared into your eyes. “For everything. For disregarding our friendship, for forcing you to fake-date me, for being an asshole, and taking advantage of your goodness. I’m sorry about...what happened after the party. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. Just...stay, please. Please. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

You saw the sincerity in his eyes, swallowing the nausea as you inhaled. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you wanna lose me?”

He cocked his head to the side. He hadn’t expected you to ask that question. He thought about it for a minute, his other hand resting on top of your already intertwined ones.

“Hmm. You should already know by now, but okay.” He inhaled. “You mean a lot to me. I literally grew up with you. You’re all I know...you’re my girl, okay?”

You stared at him, opening your mouth and closing it. He scratched his neck. Fuck. He had more to say, but your dumbfounded expression was making him rethink that.

“Uh...I m-mean...you know. You’re my best friend. I value our friendship a lot, so please...I don’t wanna be the one who fucks this up. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I do. Please, give me another chance.”

“Oh.” You tried to mask the disappointment in your voice. Your heart felt stuffed, but your brain was telling you that this was a good thing. He apologized, and promised to change. Wasn’t that enough for you? Minho wasn’t obligated to be in love with you.

You put a smile on your face. “Okay. I’m sorry, too. I played a part in all of this, as well. We’ll...we’ll make this work, Minho.”

He grinned, letting go of your hand to get up, glancing at his watch. “We should go.”

He looked back at you, holding his hand out. “Best friends?” He asked hopefully.

“Best friends.”

***

Minho had one hand on the steering wheel, glancing at you from time to time with a stupid grin on his face. You weren’t mad at him anymore, and that was a start.

You looked so pretty. He liked how you looked both sexy and cute at the same time, the skirt of your dress flowy, yet the spaghetti straps showing off your smooth shoulders...and the best part about it was the necklace around your neck. Somehow, he felt like it marked you as his better than the hickeys did. The marks on your neck had faded a bit, but were still slightly visible...something he was very happy about.

“Um, Minho...eyes on the road, please.”

He chuckled, focusing his gaze back to the road as you pulled your skirt down a little. “It’s down this road, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay.” He stopped the car, unfastening his seatbelt and stepping out, walking around to open the door for you.

“Hmm. The place looks nice.”

You shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Listen, Y/n...you don’t have to do this. We’ll come up with something else, I mean...I don’t want you to come out of this looking like the bad guy.”

“Minho, we can’t come up with anything. We’re already here. Just...let me do this.” You sighed, looking up at the number plate on the door. “Mm. This is the one.” You rang the doorbell.

He nodded, a little nervous. He decided to button up one of the three buttons he’d left undone. You looked at him, pouting. “Why’d you do that? You looked better with it undone.”

He blushed, opening his mouth to respond when the door was opened.

“You guys! Right on time!” Rina gushed. She had on a tight fitting red dress, matching red lipstick and pearls on her ears, as well as around her neck. Her hair was in an immaculate bun. Was she overdressed or were you underdressed?

You turned your eyes away from Minho, opting to smile politely at her. “Thanks for inviting us.”

You glanced at Minho. If you hadn’t known Minho well, you would have thought his smirk was genuine. However, you could see the layer of nervousness behind it.

“Come in, you two. I’ll get the plates ready.”

She beckoned you in. The apartment looked the same as the last time you’d been there, only cleaner.

As you followed Rina in, you saw the backs of a guy and a girl sitting on the couch, chatting to Juyeon who was standing next to them. Rina followed your line of sight. “Oh...sorry, I invited one more couple to join. I hope you don’t mind.” She glanced at Minho. “You know them, right? I mean, I know you know Mera well. And Hyunjin’s your friend.”

Oh.

Minho nodded. “Yeah.”

You breathed in. You didn’t want to put up an act in front of two more people...you’d already been nervous, but now you were more so.

“Ah, Y/n! You look nice.” Juyeon said, winking at you and causing Minho to shoot him a glare. Did this guy have an ounce of shame?

Mera and Hyunjin both gave you awkward smiles which you returned, thanking Juyeon as Rina gestured to the couch.

“Wait here, okay? I’ll go get the table ready. Y’all can talk while I’m gone.” She smiled, before leaving and going into the kitchen.

There was an awkward silence in the room as she left.

You glanced at Mera , who was wearing a shimmery blue-green dress that made her look stunning. She cleared her throat. “Um, hi guys. How are you?”

“We’re doing alright.” Minho spoke monotonously. He looked at Hyunjin, pointing between the two with a clenched jaw. “When did this happen?”

Hyunjin paused for a moment. “Hmm...at the party.”

“Um, I didn’t see you-”

“I came upstairs after you two left.” He chuckled. “Speaking of which, good night, I assume?”

Minho looked at you, surprised to see you shrug, smiling. “It was pretty good.” You grinned.

Mera’s eyes narrowed as she saw Minho swallow, leaning back against the sofa.

You sat up a little, wondering how you should segue into an argument. You were second-guessing it now. You weren’t feeling the same eagerness you felt earlier in the morning to fake-break up with Minho, especially when the two of you had more or less made up.

Mera gave you a small smile. “Just good? I couldn’t walk for weeks whenever Minho and I had sex.” She giggled, missing the awkward atmosphere in the air as she uttered the words.

Minho glanced at you. The annoyance in his expression was subtle. You rolled your eyes, turning back to Mera and giving her a fake smile.

Juyeon coughed, straightening up a bit. “TMI, Mera.” He chuckled, giving you another wink, which Minho thankfully missed as his gaze was directed to you. He picked up on the fact that you were uncomfortable. He moved closer, putting his hand on your thigh and squeezing reassuringly as Hyunjin asked Juyeon something, the three talking among each other.

Minho took the chance to turn to you. “Look, we had no idea she’d invite more people. You don’t have to do anything. We don’t have to be in a rush. Just let me handle it.” He whispered, making you feel a lot lighter. You relaxed, your stiffness melting, along with your heart as Minho smiled at you.

Rina came back into the room, honey-sweet smile present on her face like always. “It’s ready! Come on, guys.”

***

A few hours had passed. The dinner wasn’t as bad as you’d expected it to be. In fact, it was suspiciously good...everything from the food to the people. Surprisingly, you found conversation to be alright. You really liked Hyunjin. He was a nice guy, maybe a little overdramatic... (especially when he’d taken a bite of pasta that had been too hot) but overall, you could tell that he had a good heart.

Mera, despite flirting a little too brazenly with Minho from time to time, wasn’t bothering you much. Besides, Juyeon’s flirting was somehow even more brazen, his winks and smirks all directed to you. The weirdest part was that somehow Rina looked completely oblivious to it all.

When you finally finished eating, you were feeling pretty full. The food had definitely been ordered from out...there was no way Rina was capable of that level of cooking.

Hyunjin sighed. “That was really good, Rina.” He said, prompting some nods and appreciative moans.

“Thank you.” She giggled.

Mera set her fork down. “I really have to be going, I’ve got an appointment early tomorrow morning. Rina, you coming?”

“Nah, I’m staying with Juyeon today.”

“Okay. Dinner was amazing. We should really do it again.” She leaned down to press a kiss to Hyunjin’s cheek. “Bye, Juyeon, Minho.” She made eye contact with you, smiling warmly. “Y/n.”

Once she left, it was just the five of you. Minho looked at him, a questioning look on his face, asking you if you wanted to leave.

You were about to nod when Juyeon interrupted the silence. “Minho, we haven’t been seeing you at the studio these days.”

“I’ve been busy...not really in a mood for dance.” He said, running a hand through his hair.

“You? Not in a mood for dance?” Hyunjin asked, laughing. “That’s not something you hear often.”

“Y/n, what have you been doing to him?” Rina sneered, chuckling. You were about to speak when Minho spoke up. “She didn’t do anything. What part of ‘not in the mood’ do you not understand?” He snapped.

There was silence as Rina glared at him, clenching her jaw. “Woah man, calm down. We were just joking around.” Juyeon said, sitting up.

“I’m sure you were.” Minho rolled his eyes, getting out of his chair. “Where’s the bathroom? I’m going to wash up.”

He left the room. You glanced at Rina. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Whatever.” Rina said, rolling her eyes and gathering up the plates, leaving for the kitchen with a scowl on her face.

Hyunjin cleared his throat. “Well...it was a really nice dinner.” He said awkwardly. He turned to Juyeon. “See you tomorrow, man.” He looked towards you, smiling genially. “It was nice getting to know you better, Y/n. I’m surprised Minho didn’t introduce us to each other earlier.”

You nodded, grinning at him. “Me too. Anyway, I look forward to spending more time with you.” Hyunjin winked at you. His wink wasn’t flirty like Juyeon’s but a rather friendly one.

After Hyunjin left, you decided to move to the living room, sitting on the sofa and waiting for Minho to be done so you could leave already. Juyeon was watching you, coming over and sitting opposite you on the sofa. His gaze was heavy, and you were being careful to avoid it. Juyeon was attractive, sure...but you didn’t like the way he kept constantly flirting. Wasn’t he and Rina supposed to be a thing?

“Hmm...must be nice dating the biggest fuckboy on campus.” Juyeon laughed.

You looked at him. “Um...”

He moved uncomfortably closer, placing his hand on your thigh. “You know, you deserve a lot better.”

You shook your head, trying to get up and move away, but he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back down. His expression was angry. “Come on, Y/n...why are you rejecting me?” He asked with a puzzled expression...as if he was genuinely confused.

You glowered at him, trying not to snap. “Because I have a fucking boyfriend?” You said, your tone icy.

Jesus, why was Minho taking so long?

His eyes widened, before he breaks into a laugh, slapping his knee as he threw his head back. You watched, brows furrowed. “Why are you laughing?”

He wiped a tear away, shoulders still shaking a lot. “I know you’re innocent...but I didn’t think you were quite this gullible.”

“What?”

He shrugged, letting go of your wrist. “Why don’t you go find your boyfriend.” He said, his voice calm.

You frowned, lifting yourself off the sofa as you made your way to the bathroom, Juyeon watching from the sofa with an amused expression.

You knocked a few times, with no answer. Pushing the door open, you found no one inside.

And that’s when you heard the moan.

Your heart beating and brain filled with white noise, you walked in the direction of the sound, your suspicions being confirmed when you saw the bedroom door ajar.

The scene inside made you feel nauseous. A terrible sense of deja vu enveloped you as you watched Rina running her hands over his chest as she sat on his lap...his shirt completely unbuttoned, the two of them making out furiously as he gripped her waist.

You hated the way your body was shaking as you watched, the two still oblivious to your presence. Your heart felt like it was crumbling. You couldn’t help the sob that broke out of you at the sight, making them finally separate, Minho’s eyes turning to you and widening as they saw your crying face.

“Fuck you.” You managed to croak out, wrenching the necklace off your neck, throwing it at his feet and walking away, past Juyeon, avoiding eye contact. You didn’t wanna look back, didn’t wanna see his smug expression. All you were focused on was leaving that place as fast as you could.

As you half-walked, half-ran out into the night air, you swore as you realized it was raining. You could feel your makeup running down your face, the raindrops mixing with your tears.

Why did you feel so broken inside? Minho wasn’t your actual boyfriend, so it wasn’t like he’d actually cheated on you. Maybe...because somewhere deep inside, you’d stupidly thought that he actually did have feelings for you. Your conversation back home had sparked the tiniest bit of hope in you. God, you were so fucking stupid.

It was all hopeless. Fucking hopeless. You had to learn to accept that, sooner or later.

Somehow, you would.

658 notes · View notes

forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

The Sun Is Coming Up (I Think It’s Time)

Fandom: The Irregulars Pairing: Spike/Jessie Rating: T Word Count: 2047

Summary: Telling Jessie he loved her in the heat of the moment was one thing. Repeating it when they weren't in mortal peril was something else.

Spike glanced back over his shoulder as he hefted the sack filled with his belongings. If that was what it was like living large in a big fucking manor, he didn’t want it. Rituals and horns and murdering all your mates. Billy’d kill him if Spike ever suggested they mess around with a deck of cards to see whether it would bring out anybody’s underlying murder-y feelings. No thanks. The cellar—and all of his friends being this side of the grave—was good enough for him.

“What are you thinking about?” Bea asked.

She nudged him with her elbow while they walked side-by-side, grinding the gravel road underfoot as they left Mycroft Holmes’s place behind.

“How much I love sleeping in a literal hole in the wall,” he told her.

Bea laughed.

“No, I’m serious,” Spike insisted. He counted off the cellar’s best points on his fingers, beginning by flicking out his thumb. “It’s warm. Sometimes. And it’s dry! Mostly… And nothing supernatural ever happens there. Other than Jessie’s bad dreams.”

He could feel that the case he was trying to make about how great their home was wasn’t exactly stacking up the way he’d wanted it to, but Bea was still smiling. It was gentler now than when she’d laughed.

“Yeah,” she said, “Jessie’s dreams.”

“Are you worried about those?”

“’Course. I’m always worried about her.”

“Yeah,” Spike agreed heavily before darting a cautious look at Bea from the corner of his eye.

They crunched along for a few minutes without speaking; the damn stretch of road leading up to the house was so long that Spike started to get nervous, glancing forward and back to make sure the property wasn’t trying to trap them again. But no, the manor was always in its proper place: behind them. Fuck off and good riddance.

It was a clear day after all that night and, as much as he’d rather have never come here, Spike could admit that the fresh air was an improvement on the smoke and the stench they normally breathed. Easier to take a deep breath without coughing and easier to see Jessie walking just ahead. She was on the left, with Billy in the middle and Leo on the right, and though that silky dress she’d been wearing the last couple days (or however long it’d really been) was back at Mycroft’s, Spike thought she looked like just as much of a lady in her own clothes. Something about the swish of her skirt and how her chin lifted when she turned to speak to Billy. Laughing, she was. Possibly at Billy’s expense, going by the scowl on his face. Spike grinned as he watched them.

“She told me what happened on the tower,” Bea said.

Spike nearly jumped out of his skin.

“She did?”

“While we were packing.”

“Uh… all of it?”

“As much as she can remember.”

“I’m sorry she remembers,” Spike said, looking straight ahead, but not at anything really. “She had her mind manipulated by that woman. Might’ve been better to forget and just have a blank.”

“Jessie doesn’t feel that way.”

“She doesn’t?”

Bea shook her head. Even looking at her too long made Spike confused. Felt like promenading with a princess, what with how clean Bea’s face was. She’d probably been washing it in liquified diamonds or something while Spike was almost slicing his fingers off every five minutes as he chopped vegetables with one of Mrs. B.’s terrifyingly sharp kitchen knives.

“It meant a lot to Jessie,” Bea said. She looked like she was studying his face, rifling through whatever she saw there for clues, his eyes like a book of loose pages or a drawer that rattled with odds and ends. Spike snapped his gaze forward again.

“What did?”

“What you said to make her let go of that pole.”

He sniffed and kicked a large rock in his path.

“Can’t remember.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Bea complained. “I know you remember. You saved her life.”

“We all did. Some of us a little more actively than others, if Billy’s been telling the truth about what happened down below while me and Jessie were at the top of the tower.”

His friend released a growl of annoyance and he turned his head in time to see her roll her eyes hard.

“Has he told you that Leo didn’t help? Is that what he’s said? Is that why Billy’s keeping himself between Leo and Jessie, because he’s convinced himself that Leo’s not fit to be near her because he didn’t pound on the door as soon as we did? For god’s sake.”

“More or less,” Spike said with a smile.

“I’m gonna have a talk with him. Jessie doesn’t need him to go all protective like that.”

“He’s only doing it because you do.”

“What do you mean?” Bea frowned.

“For you, the most important thing is protecting Jessie and if Billy protects Jessie he’s doing the thing you think is most important, which will make you happy with him.” Spike noticed Bea’s expression sour into aggravation and threw his hands up in defense. “I don’t think that, he thinks that. I think. Just… think of it as Billy trying to be more sensitive.”

Bea snorted.

“That’s not sensitive,” she complained, gesturing to the way Billy was squaring his shoulders as Leo tried to speak to Jessie around him. “That’s… I don’t know. Brutish. He can’t decide whether or not Jessie and Leo are friends. Jessie can choose that for herself.”

“Just like you choose whether you and Leo are friends,” Spike piped up. “Or more.”

He spotted the red flare of Bea’s cheeks before, smiling, she ducked her head and murmured, “Shut up.”

“Can’t help it. Unlike dear Billy, I’m very sensitive. Got it coming out my ears. Unbelievably attuned to other people’s feelings. What?” he asked, because Bea was staring at him with this knowing look on her face.

“You told Jessie you love her.”

Fuck, she just said it straight out. Spike’s gaze danced around as it sought a place to land.

“We all love her,” he said.

“True, but…” Bea gripped Spike’s arm and hopped in front of him, walking backwards so she could look him right in the eye. “…that’s not what you told her at the time. You could’ve said, ‘We all love you’ or ‘Bea loves you,’ but you didn’t.”

“Well, now you’re just trying to make me feel stupid.” He smacked his forehead jokingly. “Christ, obviously I should’ve started with mentioning you. Jessie would’ve let go immediately. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Of course you weren’t,” Bea agreed. “That situation was insane. You didn’t have time to consider every option, you just went on instinct. But all of that,” she emphasized, circling her palm in front of him, “just shows that you knew you had to say the most important thing. Not the most logical thing, but the thing that was truest to you. So you told Jessie how you feel.”

Spike tried to laugh her words away, but Bea just lifted her eyebrows like it was too late, she’d found all the clues and solved the mystery. That was great for her. When she spun away and jogged up to Leo to rescue him from Billy’s dickheadedness, Spike still had those clues flapping and tumbling around inside him like a sack full of junk. He didn’t know how to reach into that sack and pull out an I love you.

He looked longingly at Jessie’s hair, tied back in a slightly changed way to how it usually was. He looked at her hands swinging along at her sides and wanted to hold one.

—

“I meant it,” he told her in front of the fire.

They were home, legs aching from the walk, but not so badly that Spike regretted rejecting Mycroft’s offer of a carriage to bring them back. A carriage would’ve made the journey faster, sure, but what was the cost? It could be that there was some tarot card related to carriages flying over the edges of cliffs or being set on by man-eating bears and, without a guarantee that Patricia Coleman-Jones hadn’t performed a magic spell over such a card, Spike felt safer on his own two trusty feet.

Jessie’s feet were a pair of lumps under the blanket he’d drawn up close for her, so she could be near the heat while she rested her tired body. He should’ve been resting too, but he was pacing. Those three words were the first he’d gotten out since he’d informed Jessie that he had something to tell her.

“I know,” she said, staring steadily up at him.

Her face was aglow in the light and one of her eyes shone—the other was in the shadow he was casting. When Spike realized, he quickly moved to sit next to Jessie instead.

“Yeah, but, I meant it,” he repeated.

“Spike.”

His name was a whine of frustration from her lips, which wasn’t ideal feedback for a love confession.

“I love you,” Spike stated baldly, watching her face with care. “Not like your sister. I mean, I don’t mean that I love your sister. Well, no, I love Bea, ’course I do, but I love her in one way and I love you in another, different way to how she loves you.” He clamped his lips together for a moment to smother the rambling. “How are you feeling about this?”

“Really irritated to be honest. Just…” Jessie reached out and pressed her fingers over his mouth. “…let me speak.”

Behind her hand, Spike nodded, eyes wide and earnest. They touched all the time. They couldn’t not, sharing this den. Always tugging each other up from the cold floor, a pat of thanks on the shoulder or back when one of them cooked the breakfast. The time Jessie tripped up the cellar stairs and didn’t want Bea to know she’d hurt herself so it was Spike who pulled the slivers from her palm and cleaned the blood from the graze on her shin.

When he thought about it, seemed like he’d loved her differently from the others for a while.

“I heard you on the tower,” Jessie said, dropping her hand. “Your voice broke through. It was the only thing that did! It was more powerful than the weather or how Patricia was compelling me. I… I couldn’t understand, not fully, that’s why I tried to do what she said again, even though you’d convinced me once, but I knew more when it was over.”

“What did you know?” Spike asked, and she laid her hand over his on the blanket.

“I don’t love you like I love my sister either.”

“I thought…” His voice trailed off as his gaze slid sideways. “I thought it would’ve been better if it’d been Bea up there with you. She could’ve brought you out of it faster, kept you from trying to obey Patricia a second time.”

“Maybe,” Jessie allowed, “but that doesn’t matter because you did those things.”

“Any of them would’ve…”

Spike didn’t know why the fuck he was trying to be modest now, but his mouth was just set on being self-sacrificing. Thank Christ Jessie didn’t have time for his nonsense.

“Yes,” she said. “But it was you. I’m glad it was you.” Her voice climbed, then lost its footing with a thick, hiccupping cry. “Spike, I could’ve died.”

In an instant, he had his arms thrown around her waist, holding her tight against him with their knees bumping—his outside the blanket and hers beneath it. She curled into him. He felt the flutter of her eyelashes against his neck, then the cold trickle of a tear finding its way under his collar. One of Spike’s hands went up to cradle the back of Jessie’s head.

“Not in a million years,” he said. “Not in two.”

She shook with a laugh and raised her wet face; he wiped her tears.

Spike was glad Bea and the lads weren’t there when Jessie planted a kiss on his cheek. He cupped her face when she pulled back, led with his mouth as he leaned in, and willed their friends to stay away just a couple minutes longer.

#my writing #The Irregulars #The Irregulars fanfic #Spike x Jessie #The Irregulars spoilers

30 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 16

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual content (18+)

A/N: hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

- I’ll spank you, angel. - he muttered with a rather raspy and low voice in her pearl adorned ear. Immediately, Y/N could feel the familiar heat that always lingered around whenever the mob boss was present and cleared her throat, holding one of the champagne glass scattered around the table to have it do something instead of just saying on the table again for no reason, blushing like an idiot.

Before she could even question him about his words, a waitress approached, a rather attractive one dressed in a tight white dress reminiscent of the one Cher wore in Clueless, and whispered something against his ear. Whatever it was, it caused him to join the other associates rather fast, leaving Y/N in the table with minor associates, their wives and partners.

I don’t belong here, she thought to herself. It was a rather stark contrast to look at the table filled with men dressed in polished suits expensive enough to pay the downpayment on a small house and women dressed in tight equally expensive red, black and emerald green dresses and then look at the handmaid in a hand down rather flowy old white dress with small flowers. She looked adorably out of place as she took several sips from the sparkling water glass Sebastian had ordered for her.

- Aren’t you view for sore eyes? - she turned her head slightly towards where the voice went before she sighed. Mr. Williams.

Y/N didn’t really enjoy his presence which rather concerned her. He had done nothing to make her be suspicious of him and most of the prejudice she knew towards him had come from both Gwen and Sebastian. Sure, he had asked her to speak with Sebastian about being less abrasive back in Paris but someone who was in danger would beg for their life anyway. Despite all of that, she just felt a somber atmosphere settling in whenever he was around.

He took a seat where Sebastian was once sat, grabbing one of the champagne glass and raising it up almost as if he was saluting the handmaid to which Y/N responded with a lower raise.

- I don’t see Miss Forrest anywhere.

- Oh ... she wasn’t feeling very well. - Y/N softly smiled, taking another sip from her glass.

- Well, Mr. Stan does look rather prideful of showing you off. I must say, if I had you as an accessory on my arm, I would also be that prideful. - his fingers reached over to her chin, pushing it slightly down. - You have some very familiar eyes, I can’t point where I’ve seen them before.

- Oh ... - Y/N looked around wondering if any of the people are the table would come to her defence but none did. She wasn’t his wife or his partner, they mostly thought she was a upper ranking mistress and by so, she deserved no protection or words from them, leaving Y/N to protect her own self. - Eyes aren’t that specific to one person, more than one individual can have equal ones.

- Not yours, my darling. They’re laced with gold.

- Well ... thank you very much but ... - she looked around wondering if there was anywhere for her to go. Surely Sebastian wouldn’t spank her, he was just trying to scare her. Spanking was for children and the BDSDM ridden books, he wouldn’t spank her. - I must go.

Y/N abruptly pushed her chair away from the table with her feet, getting away from the table before he could touch her face again. The music was slightly more subdued and mostly came from the girly noises of the barely dressed women singing show tunes from the golden age of theatre, which made the environment much more inviting for exploring. She moved through the crowd of tables of men hollering at the stage girls before she reached a little black door in the back. Looking around, she opened the door which seemed to lead even more into the back of the cabaret. She wandered around in the dark until she found another door but this one led to a flight of stairs. It was either that or return to the table and be questioned by Mr. Williams. With that in mind, Y/N climbed the stairs which led to another door that opened to the outside.

The cold air hit her exposed skin as she moved to the railing, eyes on the horizon of the never sleeping city. The upper east was Y/N’s favourite spot to be during the night, the city just seemed to light up yet she wasn’t the biggest fan of the noise. Like Ariel exploring the human world, she perched herself on the railing, letting herself get lost in her own thoughts.

- Hey, you, you can’t be here. - her thoughts were interrupted by a man grabbing her by the arm. - The show girls are in the backstage.

- Oh, I’m not a showgirl. - she spoke up to who she thought was one of the guards. - I’m here with Mr. Stan.

- You? - he investigated her from head to toe and toe to head, before his eyes settled on her. - Great joke, sweetheart. You have a show to put on.

- Unhand the girl, Alex. - a very familiar voice made Y/N sigh in relief. What show could she put on? She could probably give a lecture on English Literature but she didn’t think that’s what the men and women who came in were expecting to see and hear. The man seemed to shiver at the voice and the grip on her arm softened, allowing her to rush over to Sebastian’s side who wrapped an arm around her waist swiftly.

He didn’t say anything else to the man, instead slamming the door shut behind the two of them before accompanying her down the stairs back to the table, probably. However, as he passed the table with her still in arms and instead walked outside the cabaret and lead her to the car, Y/N couldn’t help but sheepishly smile, happy she was not going to have to stay there any longer.

- Sometimes, angel, I think you like to get in trouble. - he signalled something to the driver which led for the partition to roll up. - However, I do not like people disobeying me.

- Amelia did say you dislike relishing control. - she spoke up mindlessly. Without much of a struggle, Sebastian wrapped his hands around both sides of her waist, pulling her up and down onto his lap which made her let out a little squeak.

- Listen, angel ... - he ran his hand down her back until he reached her lower back. - There are various dangerous men out there that could harm you if you don’t follow my rules. Now what did I tell you before I left, angel?

- Not to leave the table. - her eyes were stuck onto the car’s carpet. He’s not gonna do it, he’s not gonna do it, she thought to herself.

- And what did you do, angel? - his hand ran even lower, settling just in the small of her back and turned to toy with the fabric of her dress.

- I left the table.

- Yes. - he cooed. - You left the table. What did I say would happen if you left the table, angel?

- You said you’d spank me. - she could feel her cheeks heat up. As soon as the words left her lips his hand came down onto her ass over her underwear causing a breathe to get stuck on her throat. Oh, he was gonna do it.

- Are you alright, angel? - Y/N could pin point a tone of concern on his voice as his hand massaged the hit spot. She couldn’t say anything, her mind still processing what just had happened so she took to nodding her head very slowly in a manner of reassuring him. - Good.

Y/N wasn’t ready for when his hand came down once more on her supple flesh leaving her to let out a small yet high pitched moan. At that sound, she brought her hands to cover her mouth and soon she realised that having her thighs spread apart was starting to become rather uncomfortable when all she wanted to do was to rub them together. This, however, proved to be quite difficult as he made sure she kept her legs somewhat spread.

The first spanks aren’t as hard almost as if he was inducing her into it but as time went by the slight sting heightened mixed with levels of pleasure that Y/N was not used to.

- What did we learn, angel? - he handled her again so she was straddling his lap. - Tell me.

- Not to leave the table. - she spoke up, unable to look him straight in the eyes which were darker than before.

- Good, angel. - he smirked at her, placing the young handmaid back on her seat. Once she found herself not restrained anymore, she immediately crossed her legs, noticing how wet her underwear felt.

The ride home seemed to last ages and ages and Y/N wasn’t entirely sure of what to say or how to act. She had just been spanked by her friend’s fiancé and enjoyed it a bit too much, scratch that, enjoyed it very much. After a while they were back onto the lowly lit and silent penthouse. Y/N guessed Gwen was probably already asleep or too busy to come downstairs.

- Goodnight, Sebastian. - she bite her lip, still not sure of what to say and returned upstairs to her bedroom.

Once in her bedroom, she felt like she could finally breathe properly but instead of freaking out which was what her mind was screaming at her to do, she just smiled like a teenage girl after her first kiss, slowly sliding down the door. How could she not smile? Here he was, a man who did everything fo her, was handsome and noticed her in a way she had never been noticed before. Still, he was very much engaged and she should feel bad so why wasn’t she feeling bad? Maybe it was because of Gwen’s promiscuity, after all if she could go around and sleep with whomever she wanted and still be engaged would she even mind if Y/N was involved with Sebastian? At the same time, was she really ready to backstab her friend like that and become a mistress?

She shooshed those thoughts away, stripping away from her dress and grabbing her pjs from the top of the bed before climbing under her duvet. Sleep would’ve come faster had it not been for her door being opened by Sebastian who was dressed in black sweatpants and a distressed black tee. Before she could ask him what he was up to, he sat next to her, hand coming to caress her face.

- I wanted to make sure you were alright. - his finger traced her jaw. - You were very silent in the car.

- Am I a bad person?

- I don’t think you’re able of doing bad things, angel. You’re too good.

- I can’t stay away from you and you’re Gwen’s.

- Y/N ... I will figure something out, okay? You’re not a bad person and I’m definitely not Gwen’s. - he took both her hands in his to kiss them both before settling them down again with a small frown. - You shouldn’t always worry about doing what’s right, Y/N. You can’t always be selfless or you’ll lead to your own self destruction.

- I don’t know anymore. - she buried herself in her own sheets. - What are you doing here, anyway?

- I was wondering if you’d like to make me company tonight. - Y/N furrowed her eyebrows at him. - Not in that way, I just thought that maybe you’d be up for a bit of cuddling.

- The mob boss, cuddling?

- Don’t get cocky, angel. Just because you’re the mob boss’ favourite doesn’t mean I won’t punish you.

- I know ... - she raised her torso, leaning against the bed frame. - I just ... what if Gwen catches us?

- She won’t, she’s not that astute. Definitely not her father’s daughter. - Sebastian smiled at the young handmaid, his hand sneaking towards her while her pinky locked itself with his. - C’mon, trust me.

- Mr. Forrest said that no smart girl should trust a mob associate much less a mob boss. - Y/N took to swinging her legs to the side of the bed. - Much less with the Stan family.

- Oh trust me, angel. You can rely on me. - his hands came under her thighs, lifting her bridal style. She squeaked, holding onto his shirt for comfort as he walked her away from her bedroom and into his bedroom, if you could call it a bedroom.

Y/N knew the penthouse was big but his bedroom looked bigger than the living room. The walls were as white as hers and most of the house but the main wall was covered with a wood like material. At the centre was a bigger king size bed with the biggest and tallest duvets that looked absolutely comfortable in shades of brown and white. Several pillows were scattered around the bed and by its sides two bedside tables holding picture frames and some night lamps.

Sebastian laid her on the centre of the bed and she couldn’t help but dip into the luxurious cotton bedding, a small giggle escaping her lips out of pure comfort. She guessed this was what sleeping in a cloud must felt.

- What side do you like to sleep on? - he questioned, trying to hide his smile from observing her relish on the softness of the bedding’s material.

- Oh, no, it’s alright. - she raised her head. - I’ll sleep on whichever one is lost.

- No, angel. This won’t fly with me ... - he crawled up to her. - You’re not my handmaid. When you’re with me you get first pick and you get what’s best.

- But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. - she chewed on her lip, eyes lowering down to her hands. Should she even be here? If so, she shouldn’t be making decisions like a queen, she was a handmaid and that was it.

- I could never be uncomfortable next to you. - his fingers picked her chin but unlike Mr. Williams, it was a soft touch, a beautiful view. How could she not let her morals out the window when those cerulean eyes bore themselves into hers? - So which side is gonna be?

- The one facing the window. - she leaned against the pillows, pushing the duvet over her body. - Goodnight, Sebastian.

- Goodnight, angel. - he kissed the top of her nose.

All her worries seemed to wash away as his arms wrapped around her waist and she let herself go to sleep. Maybe she was a bad person, maybe she was a good one but right now she was just a person hopelessly devoted to a man who was just a man right now. The night went by seamlessly without any noise and without any nightmares and just as morning rose, Y/N was up on her feet and already on the kitchen trying to cook, much to Amelia’s dismay.

- You’re acting like a headless chicken, Miss Y/N. - Amelia grabbed the pot of boiling water away from the handmaiden. - Someone had a good night sleep.

- Maybe ... - she sighed dreamingly, sitting on the top chair, her mind forgetting that she had just slept in the same bed as Gwen’s fiancée. Should she feeling guilty? If so, why was Y/N so happy?

- I’m guessing it’s not all because it’s Christmas season. - the maid put a plate of eggs and bacon in front of the young girl. - Should I be too intrusive to wonder if Mr. Stan had any to do with such glee?

- I don’t kiss and tell.

- I certainly do. - Y/N moved to see Gwen walk into the kitchen with a smirk on her lips. - I never thought a man would be that talented with just their hands.

- You certainly have no filter do you? - Y/N smiled at her friend who grabbed a plate of breakfast for her. - So, what are you planning to do today?

- Christmas shopping. - she shrugged. - I need to get dad and Dan something before we go back home.

- I forgot it was that close already. - in the midst of all her confusion, Y/N had forgotten with how time had flied and in no time she would be able to return home for the holidays.

- I sure hope I get that birkin this year. - she sighed.

- You already have a birkin, Gwen.

- Yeah, one. Have you ever heard of any mob associate wife, daughter or partner with just one birkin bag?

- It’s just a bag.

- It’s a status symbol, Y/N. - she pointed out.

- Isn’t being almost married to the mob boss of the most powerful family a status symbol?

- Maybe Sebastian should give me a Birkin.

- Keep dreaming, Genevieve. - Y/N bite the inside of her cheek as she recognised the voice coming from behind the two of them. As per usual, he was already dressed in his traditional polished suit and as he walked towards his coffee machine, his hand lingered on Y/N’s lower back making her shiver in anxiety over Gwen noticing it. The heiress, however, did not notice it, too busy in her daydream about getting another Birkin for Christmas from either her father or her fiancée to be. The same fiancée Y/N had spent the night with. - It’s too much money for a bag.

- Oh c’mon. - Gwen rolled her eyes. - Every single girl has wanted a Hermes bag, even Y/N wanted one when she was younger.

- Not a Birkin. - she pointed out. She did remember seeing a black and white photo of Grace Kelly with a big black bag which had hypnotised her as a young girl obsessed with royalty and their wardrobe.

- Still ... - the heiress got up from her seat. - I’ll meet you in five, Y/N. Better bring some comfortable shoes.

- Will do. - Y/N spoke against her cup while the heiress walked back to her room with a spring in her step.

- I must say, angel, I wouldn’t picture you as one to want an expensive bag.

- Grace Kelly had one. - she shrugged. - I should go and get ready, Gwen takes shopping seriously.

- You should buy yourself something too. It’s on me, angel.

- No, it’s fine, I don’t need anything. - she really didn’t. Maybe she needed a conscience or a therapist to help her figure out why was she not running away from the very much promised mob boss but other than that she was pretty much happy with what she had. - Besides Christmas is about family and being with those who we love.

- That is awfully considerate of you but still, it must not feel good to watch someone shop and get nothing for yourself.

- I can manage. - she smiled. - I’ll see you later, Sebastian.

- See you later, angel.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying @sarge-barnes-sir @stuffforreferences

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan xyou #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan drabble #mob!sebastian stan #mob boss!sebastian stan #mobster!sebastian stan

388 notes · View notes

worseandworser · 3 years

Text

lacking

Ship: shizaya

Rating: T

Warnings/tags: omegaverse with a twist, possibly OOC, alpha!Shizuo, sigma!Izaya (lol)

ao3

Izaya Orihara had no scent. Nothing. Not a whiff of it.

Shizuo was taken aback the moment they met — he heard the sound of clapping, saw crimson eyes matching a red shirt and pitch-black hair, but he couldn't smell anything. He couldn't sense anything. The only feeling that boy inspired was a strange perception that there was something lacking about him. Shizuo could recall the growl forming in the depths of his own chest, the mind-wracking wave of rage tangling around his heart like a vine, and then jumping into a fight that would seemingly have no end. Izaya Orihara had no scent; just a smile. Cunning, knife-sharp lips twisted upwards. He dodged Shizuo's attacks and stood unfazed by the intimidating effect Shizuo's anger brought out in every single person he had met in his life.

Being an alpha implied heightened senses, and being Shizuo Heiwajima implied taking that to a whole new level. He could smell a beta — the soft, monochromatic buzz they exhaled — from across the room. Omegas or alphas — depending on the scent, from across the block. Shinra had once theorized that the range of pheromones Shizuo can perceive could be the cause of his temperamental outbursts, as if he was living in a constant state of emotional overload, or something like that. Shizuo didn't really pay attention, much less understand. Though he did get that Izaya Orihara was not alpha, nor beta, and much less an omega.

Sigma, Shinra had said. He can't release or be affected by pheromones.

That alone had sent Shizuo in another surge of anger.

And after that, he went back home and asked his mother about it.

She frowned at him. "Sigma? Do you know someone like that?" Then, at Shizuo's explanation, she shook her head. "Stay away from him. That kind of person is not to be trusted."

In the beginning, Shizuo agreed with her. Not only that, but he thought it'd be easy. No scent meant he wouldn't be walking around Raijin under the constant awareness of Izaya Orihara and pretending he didn't exist would be the easiest thing. It'd be the first time Shizuo wouldn't have to worry about the pheromonal shadow of a bastard who pissed him off.

But of course, Izaya Orihara had different plans.

* * * *

kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill kill

* * * *

The next morning, the asshole was hiding on the school's roof, arms splayed over the railing and the devilish smile plastered to his face.

"You sent that gang after me," Shizuo accused.

With an almost-perfectly crafted innocent expression, Izaya Orihara tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck, but the wave of pheromones Shizuo expected never came. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo's hands closed in tight fists. "Don't call me that!"

"Ah, since you're asking so politely," said Izaya. "What would Shizu-chan prefer, then? I'm thinking of 'Beast'." He grinned. "Or maybe Monster."

After that, everything became a blur of red, red, red — and black hair tousled by the wind, and the silver gleam of a knife, and the chirping tone of taunting, and crimson eyes that followed Shizuo's every movement like they could eat him alive. And no scent.

Nothing. Not a whiff of it.

It was disturbing, distressing, disconcerting: how could someone who could not feel others, who could not assess their intentions or states, be so quick on his feet and escape Shizuo's grasp like he was made of butter? How could he dodge Shizuo's strength, surpass his speed, predict his strike before even Shizuo could know himself? How could Izaya Orihara, when he was lacking? How could Izaya Orihara know Shizuo Heiwajima, when Shizuo Heiwajima couldn't smell a whiff of Izaya Orihara himself?

He was always so close, Shizuo's hand reached just right next to the black middle-school jacket, and Izaya slipped away by the width of a hair.

And then he laughed, tilting his head to the side, and the sharp breath Shizuo would take as a reflex brought nothing but the scent of their surroundings.

* * * *

Over the years, Shizuo learned more about sigmas. They were rare, extremely so. Izaya had been the first one in Raijin in years. Perhaps, one of the few in the entirety of Tokyo. And just like Shizuo had noticed on the first day they met, sigmas are lacking — no pheromones, no glands, no receptors. If betas are considered to have mild, flexible scents, then sigmas have nothing to show. No pheromones meant they couldn't communicate normally, they couldn't sense you and your needs and you couldn't sense theirs, so all the books, and pamphlets, and late-night TV shows said the same: therefore they can't be trusted.

"I'm always alone no matter what I do," he groused to Celty, after one of his and Izaya's fights. "I guess Izaya is the same as me. That bastard probably doesn't have anyone he can call a friend."

Must be a lonesome existence, that of a sigma. If Shizuo, with his heightened senses and all, had such a hard time with people, he couldn't imagine what it would be like. To not have the confirmation that he wasn't unwanted — to not have the soft sweetness of Celty's scent, in that specific brand that spoke of companionship.

But yeah, that flea did not deserve an ounce of his sympathy.

He is nothing like you, Celty's PDA said.

Shizuo nodded, with an odd hesitation almost weighting his head immobile.

* * * *

One day, Shizuo had his nose buried in Izaya's neck, right where the glands should be, and Izaya still had no scent.

He smelled of skin, sweat, fancy soap, and shampoo. Coffee. The city's traffic. But all of those were neutral, they were supposed to be background noise to the idiosyncratic experience that Izaya Orihara should be but there was nothing. Not a whiff of it.

"Stop slobbering all over my neck," Izaya snapped. "If you bite me, I'll stab your eyeball out of the socket. But thinking better, with your monster healing, you might as well grow a new one in—"

So Shizuo moved back to his lips. To shut him up, of course.

Shizuo wasn't one to sleep around — or better yet, with his particular strength, he couldn't be one to sleep around — but he had tried before. Two omegas and a beta. With the first two, he had felt intoxicated, out of control, it was like losing his temper except that it was good actually, and both smelled like strawberry cake and sweet vanilla, mouth-watering and mind-blowing. The second was an unlucky drunk night, red-dyed hair and a loud, obnoxious laugh, and rain and saltwater and whatever nostalgia he could get from Raijin's library. They all had scents, strong ones, and Shizuo knew what to do simply by breathing in and following his instincts.

But Izaya — just like everything about him, this was also difficult. When Shizuo breathed in, he was left on edge. The oddity of the lack of pheromones struck him over and over, as it did every time they met, as if Shizuo could never be truly prepared for the lack of instinctual balance, of communication, of that irrational connection he had no idea he needed until he met someone who couldn't create it.

To guide himself, Shizuo had to pay attention to other signs. The hitch of Izaya's breath, the twitch of his hips and thighs, the gasps, the whimpers, the moans. The bossing around — Shizu-chan touch here, right there, yes, faster, harder, don't bite don't bite — the way Izaya clawed at his arms and back and chest and did exactly what he told Shizuo not to and bit down, right on Shizuo's neck, right where it mattered, where it would matter were Izaya anyone but himself. But all they got from the bite was blood, the smell bitter and heavy, sending sparks of heat down Shizuo's spine.

Shizuo growled and Izaya let him. Let him. His body bending to Shizuo without the need for words. As if Izaya could sense what Shizuo wanted, as if he could feel it, and accommodate it like he was made for it.

* * * *

In the aftermath, when they laid down on Izaya's expensive sheets, Shizuo curled an arm around him to pull him close. This time, Izaya didn't slip away, no; he hid his face in Shizuo's neck, nosed the bite he left there, and breathed in deep.

Shizuo's hold tightened.

#shizaya #omegaverse #man writing shizuo's pov is so difficult i feel like banging my head against a wall

27 notes · View notes

mimithings97 · 4 years

Text

Champagne, Chandeliers, and Thigh High Slits (M) - KTH

Based on my Drabbles Game!!!

Summary: Taehyung loves expensive things. Taehyung loves expensive things on you even more. But his undeniable favourite thing is corrupting you, filthily and wholly. Based on the anonymous drabble requests:

#9 “here, lemme clean you up”

#13 “there? you want it there?”

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Marriage and Babies

Warnings: Unprotected sex, Mentions of conception, Fingering, Anal Play (m. receiving), Alcohol consumption, Licking, Dry Humping, Taehyung worshipping his wife, Taehyung worshipping babies

Taehyung had voiced his concern about the slit in your dress. A concern over how many eyes other than his would ogle the sensitive part of your leg he wish he had left a mark on last night. A little more concern about the fact that among the tuxedos and floor length gowns, the chandeliers and the champagne, among his prestigious colleagues - all of whom thought highly of him, for that matter - that his own black slacks didn’t have the sufficient protection for how his dick was god-forbiddingly hard. And he had an impressive length to say the least.

But maybe, in hindsight, he enjoyed it. Fuck, no, he knew he enjoyed it or he wouldn’t have gone commando tonight. He wouldn’t be standing on the covered side of you, because maybe, just maybe, he wanted these fuckers to ogle. You’re a temptress, but there’s only one person who’s taking the dress off you tonight and that constant reminder leaves him shuffling in his seat and rearranging.

“Who’s that?” You had that alluring kind of silk in your voice. But it was natural, a natural soft spoken way to you that was like a siren call and no matter the situation, the place, the time, the appropriateness, he’d drop all there is in that moment to hear you out. A temptress indeed.

“Who’s who, babe?” He follows the direction you nod, expensive table arrangements marring his view, but not enough that the red hair of the woman opposite the both of you isn’t visible.

“The woman next to Kang, red hair, black dress.” He watches the way you eye her. But it’s easy to be distracted by you. The other woman’s red hair does nothing to rival how red looks on your lips. Your sinful lips. His eyes could trace all day the way they smile, his lips could feel all day the way they move, his dick could stay hard all day the way they work over him in the privacy of each other’s company.

“She’s stunning.” And he’s lost. Stunningly lost in you as all the ricochets of golden light fall onto you and your form and your hair and your chest.

“Mmm, yeah, stunning.” But he doesn’t mean it in the way of his bosses girlfriend with the red hair. He means it in the way of his own wife, the subject of all his compliments and all his adoration. You know that enough that when you look at him there is no zeal to your expression, no jealousy contorting your brow, just an equally unspoken trust. That and love.

“I probably should’ve worn black. I feel spoilt by the way I’m being looked at.”

His eyes flit to the gleam of your breasts.

“Gold suits you and they know it.”

“And you?” A hand unconsciously finds yours under the table, fingers dangling through one anothers, “Do you know it?”

He almost laughs under his breath at the notion you had no effect on him, but his eyes cast down fast to that slit once again, honey skin trailing just underneath the gold that hides your modesty. The higher his eyes go, the more they drink you in, the harder his grip becomes in your hand. His fingers don’t play anymore, because they have a destination, dragging your palm in and over the black of his trousers and onto his boner. He’d moan if you weren’t looking so damn pleased with yourself.

“Of course I know it.”

“How much?”

“Y/N-”

“This much?” You’re hands are no longer delicate. They’re firm, they’re bold and they wrap around his shape with ease because of the way he skipped his underwear tonight. He doesn’t know whether it was the best idea he’s ever had or whether he’s going to cum in three seconds and lose business with the regulars he rented tuxes from.

Taehyung finds himself devoid from the reality of where he is. There’s little hope of his catching up on pleasantries with those around the table anyways, not when they all knew he was here for you and you only. To show you off, to dress you up, to have you defile him in front of his coworkers. It’s what he wanted and it’s where is now, groaning and fluttering his eyelids.

“Refill ma’am?” Your hand quickly slots away and finds purchase in his palm again. Innocent. Less explicit kind of territory.

The waiter stands guarded behind you, bottle, half full and brandished in one hand whilst the other nestles behind his back. Taehyung never understood shit like this. Just slouch, pour her champagne and fuck off. He understands it even less when you’re nod ensues the man to place a bold hand on the back of your chair, to lean over you with little discrepancy and allow his eyes to drift further into your cleavage than even Taehyung himself has seen tonight.

And then he fucks it.

“Shit- I me- ma’am I’m so sorry,” he’s frantic, retracting his hands and his eyes and dares to grab your napkin as if he’s going to pat down your thigh as an apology.

“It’s ok-”

He knows you won’t fend the waiter off himself, so he speaks up.

“Mate, it’s good, we got this.”

Taehyung wasn’t a dick, in fact he prided himself on his patience and his ability to keep anger at bay. So, he won’t have a fit for the waiter with both eyes for his wife and hands incapable of pouring champagne correctly. Maybe he’ll even thank him, when he gets to lick it off you later.

“Sir, I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, we’re good.” It’s Taehyung’s way of saying fuck off, and he knows you’re thankful for not making any more of a scene, because you hate confrontation. You’re too kind to the world and he loves that.

He might just love even more, though, the fact that from thigh to ankle, you’re wet with spilt liquid. Tanned skin gleaming from where the champagne fell.

“I guess someone didn’t like the gold.” You pat yourself, napkin soaking up what isn’t in you glass, but smiling all the same.

“Baby,” Taehyung deadpans, “I think he liked the gold a little too much.”

He watches you’re attempted salvage job, but the dress is silk, expesive and made of silk and the marks beginning to spread through the material don’t seem to be recovering.

“Well shit, I’m gonna run to the bathroom, see if I can do something about this.”

But Taehyung is up before you, pulling the napkin out of your hands and taking one hand for himself. You’d expect him to excuse you from the table but the conversations are clearly more exciting than your spectacle with the way no one passes you a look of curiosity. It’s enough to garner you following him, a little urgent, but it makes you smile unabashed.

Rich had never been your thing, but Taehyung said rich suited you. The attention it sought for, the way it brought hierarchy, you hated it. Except, your husband loves how it looks on you. Specifically, the way your curves adorn gold Dior, under the expensive lights of a bathroom and with the even more expensive glimmer of a diamond on your finger.

He presses a kiss to it, the cold of the band next to the heat of your finger.

“Tae.”

His tongue purchases on it’s underside now, striping up it with his tongue, and fuck, you taste of champagne and his cologne.

“Tae.”

“Here,” he sits you on the marble counter, trusting in the expensiveness of the venue to make this place clean. You’re dress is the next thing lifted, the slit allowing an opportunity for his coarse fingers to run trails between your thighs. “Lemme clean you up.”

You’re in a bathroom, with a perfectly good and working sink to your left, towels on a rail in the corner, but your husband never had a way of making things easy. His methods were a little more… adventurous.

So he’s careful, but strong with his tongue, and you’re soft but fucking delicious in his mouth.

“Taee,” it makes him harder when you say it like that. So he continues his job, tasting your skin in all it’s wet glory and letting his hands draft into yours on the counter. He wants to take it slow and drain you of your ability to hold back your pleading, but he’s wanted you since the taxi journey here, and he fears he’s gonna be the one begging if he doesn’t get your pussy soon.

“Where d’you want me baby?”

“There,” you’re quick to move you’re entwined hands to between you legs, moulding his fingers in a way he knows you want them deep and you want them there quick. So he pulls the thin fabric aside, silk also, gold also, and he really wants to moan to you about your golden pussy. But you moan for him instead.

“There? You want it there?” He’s still on his haunches, under you as though he’s worshipping, and fuck, he might just be, with the way you’ve let you hair down from its up-do and the shoulder of your dress slip south. He plays with your entrance, whilst mapping your body with his eyes, gauging your reaction even though he knows exactly where and how you like it.

“Mmm,” but he stands to kiss you when you bite your lip.

Your knees meets his crotch and it’s enough to have him pull away his index from it’s circling and plunge two fingers inside you. And you’re warm and ready. But not ready enough to stop the moan.

“Tell me you like it.” Faster and harder, but you bite your lip again.

“Fuck.”

“You like it when I fuck you with my fingers?”

He’s answered by a clunk when you’re head hits the mirror behind you, your hand now the only thing stopping you from your screams of guilt. Taehyung won’t have it, though. He won’t have you bite into your soft palm and he won’t have your moans muffled. Not when he feels like he could cum himself as he angles his hips to your outstretched leg.

He now congratulates himself on the lack of boxers, because fuck he’s hard, and fuck is friction good.

Taehyung, since meeting you has taught himself to be harsh with words, mumbling in his sexed state all the pure dirt he could, because he could never be harsh on your body. Sometimes you’d use it to your advantage and have you way with him, rough, unadultered, so he was yours entirely. But sometimes you just liked the way he was slow with you. Finding every place in your body that had your head thrown back like it was now, your body moving on it’s own because you want more, more and so much fucking more. And in these moments when he strings your body like a harp, all he wants is for you to tell him you love him. Call you both soft, but Taehyung has a way of turning filthy moan into a serenading song.

So he pleads.

“Tell me, baby. I need it”

Without much thought, your palm is released from it’s vice in your mouth and it finds the back of his neck, so confessions can be whispered or whimpered closer.

“Fuck, I love it Tae. So good, so fucking good.”

“Yeah?”

His thumb finds your clit and it’s not shy in the pressure it exerts. Neither are his fingers. Neither is his stare. Because he no longer seeks out the approval for his actions in your eyes, but watches, hungry, ravenous, at the way your pussy eats his fingers, attached and wet. So fucking wet.

The sight is enough to make a man expire. And whilst the trousers he adorns are cheap, they still have to be handed back to the rental. So, no, he’s not cumming in his pants tonight.

“Taee,” your whine is breathy but high and pleading enough he’s fast in undoing his zipper and faster at finding his length, especially without the barrier of another layer of clothing. He’ll pat himself on the back later for sure, but right now, his wife is still writhing, on the brink and pussy in full view along with the taste of champagne.

“I’ve got you, Y/N, fuck,” hard and desperate, and it’s clear from him tone of voice. But he also can’t feign his love for your lips on his when you pull him in. It’s not rough, but it’s not gentle. It’s soft yet loaded. It’s memory muscle and tongue intertwined with tongue, because he loves your lips and knows how to savour them.

“I’m so hard, baby, please.”

You shuffle forwards as an invitation, heels wrapped to his thighs and he feels you wet against his tip now. But he doesn’t enter because your hand meets his abdomen, a soft demand that causes him to wait, despite the pulsing.

“Tae.”

“Mmm,” your lips are touching, breathing together, so close from him being inside you that his tongue swipes your lip subconsciously.

“I did something yesterday.”

It’s enough of a loaded statement to garner the tensing of his abs.

“Okayy?”

“You’ve been speaking about something recently and it had me thinking.” You sound breathy and nervous, and he mirrors the sentiment of that, because he hates when you’re scared. “You just have to know before we do this... in case.”

“You’re being cryptic.”

Yet you smile, and maybe Taehyung should be at ease but he’s not.

“Tae?”

“Mmm,” he repeats.

“I had the doctor take out my IUD. I didn’t want it anymore when we spoke to your mum about it the other day.” He stays tense, shell shocked, and wants to speak up but the mouth runs dry at the most inappropriate times. “Baby, is this what you want?”

And he scoffs, maybe laughs, maybe he’s crying, he’s not sure but he’s so far in your embrace and in your words that he nods.

“I’m not ovulating, and it might take some time, but I wanted to give it a go and-”

“Oh my god, I want this so bad.” He kisses you once, then again, and then keeps doing it until he pushes inside of you. It’s relieving to his biology but it’s 2 years of marriage, love, companionship, friendship, and waiting, mostly waiting, that has him moaning once he’s inside you. It’s a courtship, a proposal, a wedding, it’s the living together, talking about getting a dog, getting a dog, talking about babies, and now… fuck... trying for babies.

It’s the only thing he’s ever wanted on parallel to you.

So he kisses you again.

“Holy shit do I love you.”

You laugh and moan and laugh and moan again. He’s lodged far in you, struggling to find a rhythm from the way you tighten at each gleeful exhale.

“Baby, please relax, so I don’t cum straight away. Please.”

It’s hard to, though. Relax, that is. The prospect of the future paints over the lustful feeling of sex, and brings a nervous excitement, something that makes you smile and then moan and then smile and then moan.

“Y/N, fuck, hold up a little for me.”

But you don’t let him pull out to slow his movements down, the angle allowing your hands to reach his buttocks, push him into you, your hips an angle that you can cant up into him and you lips around his so you can moan and he can moan together.

“Tae.”

“Mmm. Fuck.”

You gasp. “There.”

“There?”

He hits it again, so you repeat yourself over and over. And then one of your thumbs finds his rim, it’s raw and dry and painful, but nothing is going to detach him from your movements. He finds pleasure it instead, becoming the one calling out to you.

“Fuck Y/N, keep going. I have to cum. I need to cum.”

“There?” His own words spoken back to him, but he confirms with a moan, a cry, even, and a piston to his hips like he has never had before.

“Tae, I’ll cum.”

You’re pulsing around him, and you’re also deep inside him behind, his own thrusts helping in the way of your finger sinking beneath the rimmed skin. And it’s all at once that it builds, hard enough for him to choke and have his neck fall limp on your shoulder.

“Urghh- baby please- I- fuck.”

“Cum hard for me.”

It’s the words, the implications of the words, and the feeling of you cumming around him that sets every fibre of his body on the hottest fire he’s ever experienced.

“Don’t stop.” But it’s him telling you. Telling you not to stop cumming because he wants you in an equal and better euphoria to him.

“Ahh,” he still fights through thrusts.

“I’m still cumming, fuckkk.”

He’s quaking, knees tired and teeth close to drawing blood on your shoulder. It scares him he almost hurt you so once his balls are empty his teeth release and make way for his lips, soothing on the burn of your skin.

The reality of earth falls quick and hard around both of you, and there’s no such thing as post orgasm when all Tae can think about is his cum. In you. Deep. And without a barrier.

“Y/N, what the fuck.”

“I know, I’ve never cum so hard.”

“You’re serious that you could be pregnant. Right now. Like right now, right now.”

Your eyes gleam, a little embarrassed but mostly trying to find the sentiment behind his reaction. You know this is what he wants, wholeheartedly, and fully, but it’s still a scary thought that children in a marriage can spell rejection.

“Yeh. The doctor said a low chance, but it’s still a chance.”

He’s still inside you, and still a little hard at that. But he squeals, unadulteredly squeals and embraces you.

“Don’t care. I’ll fuck you now, later, tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon,” his eyes glint with salty water and you’re smiling too much that yours do too, “imma get you pregnant and we’ll come back next Christmas, with a better dress, that’s even shinier, so every can see you, and our baby, and oh my fuck! Do you know how happy you make me?”

You let him monologue, find his inner happiness in his scenario, because maybe it won’t be a scenario at all. Maybe he’s yours. But just, now, in the shared sense of the word.

#bts taehyung #bts smut #drabbles #bts drabble #drabble game #bts taehyung smut #taehyung smut #kim taehyung #kim taehyung smut #v smut #taehyung things

762 notes · View notes