Play Stupid Games;
play stupid games;
summary - bakugou gets drunk and bets his girlfriend, but is there a more sinister manipulation occurring? part one.
cw - cucking, rough sex, manipulative yandere izuku, no one is well behaved, blindfolds, degradation, praise, *hurt* comfort, sub drop, angst but there is comfort, light bondage, they're all a little toxic but also are well intentioned, cum eating, voyeurism, threesome healer reader.
MINORS DNI
“Katsuki,” your voice is a whisper with a hint of pain, “You bet me?” Your boyfriend shifts uncomfortably. “You, you bet me?”
“He did,” Shindou takes a sip of his whiskey, “But sweetheart, I’d never touch you without your permission.” You shiver, the AC at the cocktail party is blasting at your back.
“Fuck off,” Bakugou yanks you into his body, “I’m gonna beat you in the popularity poll, and whatever I said when I was drunk isn’t gonna mean shit.” Shindou watches your teeth close over your lower lip.
“Did you really bet me, Katsuki?” you mumble, so quietly that Shindou barely catches it.
“Do you not fucking believe in me?” Bakugou snaps at you. You stand up and excuse yourself, and he rolls his eyes before realizing you’re serious and standing, “Wait, baby, come back I-”
“Fuck off.” You snap, and Shindou watches Bakugou weigh chasing after you, and decide to let you go. The dark haired pro hero pats Inasa on the shoulder, shaking his head before standing. He breaks from the group at the gala table and follows you down the dark hallway, finding you where you’re leaning against the wall with your eyes closed. Shindou clears his through and offers you his drink. You down it so fast it dribbles on your chin a little, you wipe it away with shaking hands.
“He cares about you,” Shindou starts, and you roll your eyes, “He does, alright,” he brushes some hair from your face.
“He bet me,” you simmer, “Shindou, he just, we’ve been dating for months and he just said, yeah, cool, Shindou fuck my girlfriend if I lose a popularity contest.”
“Are you upset because you know he’s going to lose?” He asks, smirk on his lips. You look away, scoffing.
“You’re an assole.” You shake your head.
“Newsflash, most pro heroes are. You’re a healer, you could have worked at a hospital instead of an agency.” He touches your arm softly while you chew the inside of your cheek. “Legitimately,” he moves so that he can make eye contact with you again, “I would never touch you without your permission. You know that.” You nod.
“I know.” You cross your arms over your chest, something else is clearly bothering you. “Shindou I, I think I’m a good healer-”
“Maybe the best in the country.” He counters and you shake your head. “I don’t wanna see you do that shit,” he shakes his head. “Really. You might be one of the best healers in the world, you’re absolutely wasted at their agency.”
“You don’t have to say that.” You cross your arms. “And I mean, I had a lot of offers, but I wanted to be with my friends, the people I went to school with.”
“I know I don’t have to say that, and yet here I am, saying it.” He touches your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I mean,” he smirks, “I’m not gonna make it easy on either of ya, if I win.” He leans in to speak in your ear, lips brushing your cheek, feeling you shiver. “And when I take you,” you look away from him, “I’m gonna make him fucking watch.”
“He’s not going to lose.” You protest, gently pushing him away from you. He obliges, the hard muscle you can feel under his shirt another reminder that you spent your life at the mercy of powerful people. “I believe in him.”
“You can’t be serious,” Shindou laughs, stepping further away from you. “You’re defending him right now?”
“I,” you swallow, and Shindou reads the genuine pain and indecision on your face. “I had a crush on him for a really long time.” You say softly, and he nods.
“Listen,” He shrugs, giving you a soft smile. “I can’t pretend I don’t understand what it’s like to have a fantasy of a person, only for the reality to be not what you were expecting.”
“He’s really a very good partner,” you protest, “He is, he cares for me, he’s just, I dunno,” you chew your lip for a second before finishing, “Clumsy with my feelings.”
“He’s immature.” Shindou shrugs. “He’s a good hero, probably a good guy. But the guy’s 22, in the most high pressure situation he’s ever been in, not a good sign by the way, that he’s dealing with that pressure by going out more with his friends, but I’ll let that stand.” You look away. “You’re a smart girl, you already know all the things you need to know.” He reaches for you, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “If you need some time to accept them, I get it.” He lets his hand fall and leaves you, standing alone in the hallway. You collect yourself, as best your able, hands trembling. You adjust your dress, take a deep breath, and make your way back into the ballroom, sitting down next to Bakugou.
“You know I only did it because it’s never gonna happen.” He says in a low growl, leaning over to speak in your ear immediately. “I love you, and I, I was just fucking around.”
“You don’t get to fuck around like that and keep me.” You say, barely audible over the hum of conversation around you. He stiffens, he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. “I’m not breaking up with you, but if you lose, I’m gonna sleep with him.” You don’t look at him, but imagine the way his eyes would narrow at those words.
“You can’t- “Oh, please,” you hiss, turning to him, “Tell me what I can and can’t do, I fucking love it when you do that.” His jaw sets.
“I’m sorry.” He mutters. “I’m sorry, I was drunk, and just,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I just, you’re everythin’ to me, okay, I wanted to prove to him I was serious so I bet something that mattered.” You hear his voice catch on the last word, and his hand comes to rest on your knee, you catch a familiar burning determination in his eyes. “I’ll be better. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Yes,” you sigh, the little seeds of doubt starting to germinate in your chest. “Yes you will.” You look up, and Bakugou’s arm around your waist turns to iron as someone taps on a microphone and calls the annual hero gala to attention. Bakugou’s hand trembles as he reaches for his drink. The statistics are fairly predictable, with new agencies much lower on the list, but they’re doing alright so far. That’s when you do some quick math, Bakugou isn’t going to lose the popularity contest, but you were intimately familiar with the data on saves at the agency, despite only being the healer. They were down a hero, Mina was recovering from knee surgery for a few months. They were going to lose the ranking to Shindou’s agency in number of saves. Bakugou realizes a second later, swearing under his breath.
“I told you not to do it.” Kirishima mutters, inspecting his reflection in a silver plated fork. “I told you not to run your fucking mouth, didn’t I?” Bakugou scowls, studying the pattern on the rug.
“Oh shit,” Denki flashes a boyish grin and touches Bakugou on the arm.. “Listen if you’re letting other guys have a piece of it can I -”
“It?” You whirl on him, “Are you fucking serious right now?” Denki shrinks, flashing his palms.
“Bakubroooo protect me.”
“Drop dead.” Your boyfriend snarls. Shindou clears his throat loudly from a few tables over, crossing his arms over his broad chest, smirking.
_____
Bakugou walks you to the door of your apartment.
“We okay?” he asks, knowing the answer. You laugh bitterly.
“I’m just tired of you treating me like property.” You say, leaning against the door. “I mean, even if you were drunk, I’m not yours to give out. We were friends for a long time before we started dating, maybe we-”
“No,” he breathes, taking both your hands desperately, “No please, come on, I, fuck.” He screws his face up. “I’ll quit drinkin’, no more parties, no hero shit, I’ve been lettin’ dunce face and shitty hair drag me out because they need to blow off steam and I hate clubs and shit so I get wasted, and it’s not a fuckin’ excuse but goddamnit, please, please don’t end this, I’ll,” He looks so desperate that your heart melts.
“Okay,” you glance down the hallway, unlocking your door. “Okay, um, come in, I won’t,” your heart aches in your chest. “You know I don’t want to leave you Bakugou.” You fidget.
“But.” He says, hands trembling in his pockets.
“But you hurt me. Again. So be better.” You reach out and touch his arm, he dives for you, wrapping his arms around your body, burying his face.
“I will.” He vows hoarsely. “I will.” He rubs your back.
“Come to bed, kats,” you say and he nods, so grateful you’re willing to hear him out that he nearly doesn’t see the message from shindou, his phone lighting up while you’re in the bathroom, and he’s lying in your bed.
Shindou: I want you to be there.
Shindou: to watch.
Bakugou: I’m gonna blow your fucking brains out
Shindou: temper temper
Shindou: bet she doesn’t like your mean streak
Shindou: sweet little healer Shindou: does she like being overstimmed? I’m gonna find out but I thought I’d ask first.
Bakugou: as if you could make her cum.
Shindou: I have some unfortunate news for you.
Shindou: just because you’ve been struggling with it doesn’t mean it’s hard.
“Kats,” you call, and he barely hears you, “I’m getting in the shower, alright?”
“All good,” he gunts, “I’m gonna crash, I’ll be here when you’re done.” He inhales deeply through his nose. It was going to be a long week.
On Wednesday, Denki pokes his head into Bakugou’s office, looking a little nervous, not meeting his eyes directly.
“Hey I uh, Shindou just put a meeting on our calendars?” Bakugou scowls, and flies to his email calendar. “Is it uh, is it what I think it is?”
“Jesus fucking christ.” Bakugou rakes his fingers through his hair. “Who else is on it?”
“Uhh, it’s me, Sero, and Kirishima. He cc’ed Deku but-”
“What the fuck?” Bakugou stands, slamming his palms against the desk. “He cc’ed Izuku?”
“Listen, maybe I’m off base but maybe this is a good reason not to bet your girlfriends pussy on your agency stats.” Denki shrugs, an evil smirk on his face.
“Get out of my fucking sight.” Bakugou snarls and Denki squeaks, letting the door close behind him. He groans and collapses in his office chair, hands sparking when he gets a little chime on his computer, and a popup. Midoriya Izuku has accepted the invitation.
“Are you going to look at me?” You say softly, as the elevator takes you up to Shindou’s apartment. “After I mean, are you going to be able to look at me?” Bakugou mashes his palms into his eyesockets instead of answering.
“I love you.” He says after a long silence. “Nothin’ Shindou or Deku can say or do is gonna change that.” He scowls. “Plus I deserve this. For bettin’ ya in the first place.”
“You do.” You say petulantly. “Plus I’m sure we’ll have a safeword.” He nods.
“They fuckin’ better.” The elevator doors open and he presses a kiss to the top of your head before stepping into the hallway, and leading you gently down the hallway to Shindou’s apartment. He knocks once and the door swings open.
“Hey,” Shindou leans down and kisses your cheek before beckoning you inside. It’s a large apartment, dark wood and well stocked bookshelves. The couch is a luxurious leather, and there’s a purposefully unfinished exposed brick wall in the kitchen. “It’s pretty nice, right?” He stretches, you can see his chest muscles rippling through his thin gray t-shirt. “Don’t worry, ah,” his eyes flick to Bakugou, “A few years in the field and I’m sure you’ll be able to afford something like this.” Bakugou mutters something under his breath and the smirk on Shindou’s face widens.
“Hi,” you hear, and you round the corner into the living room and see that Deku’s already here, somehow already taller and broader than he was at your Yuuei graduation. “It’s so nice to see you!” He says, standing and taking both of your hands, giving them a squeeze. “You too Kacchan.”
“Yeah.” Bakugou grumbles, giving a nod to Sero and Kirishima, who are sitting on the couch, Sero’s on his phone and Kirishima looks deeply uncomfortable. “You know you don’t have to stay, shitty hair.”
“He wants to see y/n’s tits as much as I do,” Sero says, elbowing the redhead without looking up from Twitter, “But he’s pretending to be ashamed about it.” You swallow and Kirishima goes as red as his hair.
“Are we just waiting for Chargebolt,” Shindou says, eyeing the nervousness easily readable in your expression. “Oh,” he coos, “Come here.” He reaches for you and Bakugou reluctantly lets the dark haired man pull you into his arms. He rubs your back, and you feel your anxiety dissipate just a little.. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna take good care of you, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, don’t worry, Kacchan.” Midoriya can’t keep the hint of the smirk from his smile. “We’re gonna take perfect care of your girlfriend.”
“Just have a fuckin’ safeword.” Bakugou snaps, crossing his arms over his chest, flopping in a chair. Deku nods.
“You okay with the colors?” Midoriya asks, touching your shoulder, pulling you from Shindou a little. “Red for stop, yellow for less, green for fine?” You nod.
“Gonna need you to say it for us, sweetheart.” Shindou says, and you swallow, finding your voice, but only barely.
“I understand.” There’s a hard knock at the door and Deku lets you go, disappearing down the hallway and returning with an out of breath Denki Kaminari..
“Oh thank god,” he pants, doubling over. “I ran here after patrol.” Bakugou crosses his arms over his chest, looking anywhere but at you.
“Nice to see you,” Deku chirps, as Denki settles on the couch.
“Have you ever been with two men at once?” Shindou asks you, pulling your focus from your audience. You shake your head.
“I’ve actually, um,” you bite your lip. “I’ve only been with one other person besides Katsuki. Like, ever.”
“Awwww,” Shindou coos, “God, that’s adorable.” He straightens up, stretching a little. “Your job is easy, all you have to do is listen to us, alright, if you’re a good girl, we’ll reward you.”
“I don’t really brat.” The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them and Deku laughs, glancing at his former classmates.
“I have high standards, we’ll see about that.” He glances at Bakugou. “I can’t imagine Kacchan is very strict with you.”
“Can we shut up about me?” Bakugou rasps, bouncing his knee up and down. “Get it over with.” Deku laughs, and starts slipping your jacket off your shoulders.
“I dunno about you,” he turns to Shindou, “But I think I’m gonna take my time.” Shindou shrugs, a smirk on his lips.
“Fine by me.” You let Deku take your jacket fully and immediately regret the little sundress you wore for ease of removal, because you already feel bare and you’ve barely gotten undressed. “I don’t want you to think about your audience at all, at least at first.” Shindou says, taking something off of his coffee table. “So I’m gonna blindfold you, is that alright?” You nod.
“You should get used to confirming things out loud for us.” Deku interjects, “You can just say, yes Daddy,” your head snaps to Bakugou, whose fists are white knuckled. You look back to the two pro heroes.
“Ah, um,” you shiver, Shindou’s apartment is cool. “Yes, um, yes daddy.”
“Good girl,” Deku coos, taking a moment internally to admire his own restraint, that he managed not to rip your dress off the moment that word left your lips. He rubs your upper arms affectionately instead. “We’ll warm you right up alright?” Shindou finishes tying the blindfold over your eyes and as your world is engulfed in darkness some of your inhibitions dissipate. Deku slips the first strap of your dress off of your shoulder, then the other one. You feel it crumple to the floor.
“You’re beautiful,” you feel Shindou’s breath on your ear, as he draws your back into his chest. “Such a beautiful girl.” You feel his hand on your bra clasp, then feel it fall away, you have a brief moment to wonder how long it took him to learn to do that so efficiently before you feel his hands on your chest. Shindou palms your breasts, your nipples already pebbled in the cool of the air. Your mouth drops open a little when he rubs them, pinching them gently, then harder, you suck in a breath through your teeth. Izuku gently tugs your panties down your legs and you feel his fingers on your folds, parting them softly. He stares up at you, giving your clit the tiniest kitten lick. You mewl softly, and Shindou buries his face in your neck, you feel his rough tongue on your soft skin, sucking gently then biting down, in a way you know is going to leave marks, but it’s getting hard to focus, with Izuku’s teasing touches and Shindou’s hands wandering your chest.
“Oh,” you feel your face start to warm, as Deku slips a finger inside you, “Mm,” your moan is sharp, hummed through your lips, as your legs start to tremble.
“Right there?” Deku asks, “Oh,” he adds a second finger, “I can tell, that’s it, right there.” You whimper again, and they all watch you struggle to stay still, hands reaching for Izuku, then flitting back to your sides when you think better of it. “You can touch me,” he teases gently. “C’mon, if you want me so bad, pull my hair, show them all how desperate you are.” You whimper again.
“Just don’t try that shit with me.” Shindou says, before sinking his teeth into your neck hard enough to make you yelp. “You’re gonna stay nice and still while I take my turn on ya, arentcha baby,”
“Y-yes daddy,” you breathe, and Izuku starts to kiss and suck at your clit, and your legs buckle. Shindou holds you up, wrapping an arm around your waist, locking you against his body. Your back arches involuntarily, and you gasp, holding onto Izuku’s hair for dear life as your legs nearly give out from underneath you..
“Holy shit,” you hear, and it’s Sero, leaning forward in his seat.
“Oh my god,” Denki manages. Kirishima leans back, face still burning, arms still crossed, to sneak a glance at Bakugou, who is studying the carpet in front of him. You let out another whine and Deku picks up the pace,
“Oh, oh my god,” you breathe, “Oh my god, fuck, fuck,” You squirm but Deku’s hands around your thighs might as well be iron, holding you in place.
“Are you gonna cum?” Shindou asks you, and you nod quickly, desperately. “Beg. You don’t cum without permission.” He pinches your nipples hard enough to make you gasp sharply. “You belong to us tonight.”
“Please,” you pant, twisting in his arms so that your head is tucked right under his chin, “Please please, please, daddy, please can I cum?” A shudder rips down your body as you teeter on the edge of your high. Deku’s hands sink further into your thighs, and he barely manages to resist turning around, to see the look on Bakugou’s face as his girlfriend cums on his tongue.
“Whaddya think?” Shindou looks over at Bakugou, who looks positively volcanic, “Should she get to cum?”
“Fuck. off.” Bakugou says lowly, and Shindou grins like a jack o’ lantern.
“That’s a no.” Shindou lifts you off the ground by the waist, pulling you away from Deku’s touch. You tremble and struggle a bit, processing the lack of sensation, the feeling of your orgasm being ripped away from you. The pro hero pins your arms behind your back before setting you on the ground again, catching you just before you reach between your legs for some relief.
“I didn’t say-” Bakugou stands angrily.
“This is as much a test of your ability to obey as it is hers,” Shindou interrups, maddeningly calm. “If you’re not cooperative with us, she’ll pay the price. So be a good boy,” You hear Kirishima chuckle nervously at that, “And sit back down.” Bakugou swallows, feeling Denki, Sero, and Kirishima’s eyes on his as he slowly sinks back into the chair. “There you go. Next time, just say yes, and we won’t have to do this. Or you could, you know, not bet your girlfriend.” You twitch in his arms, making a soft sad sound and he leans down and kisses your forehead. Jealousy twists in Deku’s stomach, and he makes quick meaningful eye contact with Shindou, who releases you, pushing you towards the other pro hero as you stumble on shaking legs.
“Sweetheart,” Deku coos, catching you and rubbing your back, “Sweetheart it’s not your fault,” you sniff, “You’re being a very good girl for us.” He touches your shoulder. “Very good.”
“I wanna be good.” You say softly, and every man in the room takes a sharp breath. “I wanna be good, for you.”
“You are, baby,” Deku says emphatically. “I promise.” He gives you a squeeze and moves you in front of him, before collapsing in an empty armchair and pulling you into his lap, still blindfolded, poorly balanced on his knees. “Now I know you’re not used to taking a fat cock,” he says, still speaking sweetly, the way a teacher would to a student, “But you’re gonna take mine, and I don’t wanna hear-”
“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou snarls, unable to contain himself, “You don’t know shit about what she can take.” There’s a split second of silence.
“Is that right?” Shindou drawls. “Hand behind your back.” You obey quickly. “I think you should see what your boyfriend’s gotten you into.” He says, slipping the blindfold from your eyes and pulling the knot out easily. Deku takes the opportunity to take his shirt off, tossing it on the ground before hooking his thumbs in his black sweatpants and pushing them to the ground underneath you. Shindou ties your wrists carefully together, letting you lean against his chest for balance while the other pro hero undresses. You blink in the light of his living room, and then look down, letting out an involuntary nervous squeak, just as Shindou secures the knot. He’s thick, and it’s long, even with prep you know the stretch will be painful.
“Relax,” Midoriya says, “You ready?.” You nod, and he uses his feet to scoot the chair over to an angle where you can’t see any of the men behind you, but they can see his face, watch his eyes lose focus as he pressed the head of his cock to your entrance. “That’s it, just like that..” He breathes. “Good girl.” You sigh softly, your eyes fluttering shut as he pushes farther inside you, “Let me in,” he says softly, and for a moment he can pretend that you’re alone, that you belonged to him, just like you were always supposed to. He’s pulled back to the present when you whimper. “Let daddy in,” he repeats and Shindou suppresses a chuckle, watching you sink down on Deku’s cock.
“Oh, oh my god,” You choke out, and Midoriya makes eye contact with Bakugou he starts to fuck you, “Oh my god,” you moan this time, the pain bright in your voice. “S’so big, I’m-” Shindou reaches out and touches your shoulder, a warning.
“It’s so big, daddy.” Deku corrects, voice honeyed and breathless, a smirk on his boyish face.
“Daddy,” you whine, “Please,” you suck in a breath, “It’s-please can I have a second,” He nods, and rubs comforting circles in your hip, slowing his movements.
“I’ve got you,” he says, sitting up a little and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Do you trust me sweetheart?”
“Yes, daddy.” You whisper, and he leans farther forward, wrapping you in his arms and kissing your neck as he starts to fuck you slowly, pulling soft little musical moans from your lips.
“I’m the number one hero,” he says and Bakugou’s nails nearly break the skin on his own palm at the genuine emotion on Midoriya’s face. “I’ll take good care of you, baby, and I would, you know, if you came to my agency, I’d take care of you.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, even if your brain had been working, sinking his teeth into your neck, letting you gasp in pain as you take the last inch of him and cry out softly. Deku moves his hands lower, holding you down on his length while you squirm. “What’s your color baby, you okay?”
“Green,” you say, voice half protest, half pleasure.
“I’m gonna move,” he warns and you relax against him, eyes shut. “I’ll hold your hand, okay?” You nod, and he laces his fingers with yours, giving your hand a quick squeeze before bucking his hips up into yours.
“OH!” You spasm in his arms, not expecting him to move so quickly, it almost feels like you’re being split open, you feel him press a reassuring kiss on your cheek.
“So,” he groans, “Shit, Yo, she’s so tight, can barely move.” Shindou rolls his eyes at the younger man, coming to stand behind him and reaching around your body, his fingers lightly vibrating by the time they touch your clit.
“Shh,” Shindou breathes, kissing your cheek, letting you lean back against his chest while Deku fucks you, “Takin’ it so well, sweetheart, you’re doing such a good job.” At the praise, you relax a degree, and Deku can move a little, behind your back, Shindou takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“F-fuck,” you choke out, “Fuck, Deku, I-”
“Yeah?” He cuts you off, every soft roll of his hips against yours is bringing another wave of pleasure to your mind, and you’re still sensitive from your ruined orgasm earlier, still close.
You choke out a sob, shoulders shaking, as the sensation of being filled and toyed with overwhelms your consciousness.
“Good girl,” Deku coos, eyeing Shindou’s closeness and wanting to take back control of the situation, “Good girl, taking this, okay, if you’re good we’ll let you cum, is that what you want, to cum for us?”
“Yes,” you say, your voice hitched and desperate. You roll your hips against Shindou’s face, but it seems like he’s used to it, expertly avoiding your most sensitive spots, keeping the pleasure just on the edge for you.
“I kinda,” he says, “Wanna ruin it again.”
“You’re so mean,” Deku laughs. “She’s dating Kacchan already, hasn’t she suffered enough?” Shinou laps at your cunt, pulling another soft cry from your lips.
“Please,” you beg, “Just, just fuck me a little harder, and I can, I can cum, I promise I-” You feel Deku pick up the pace and tighten his grip around your waist.
“Keep begging.” He orders swiftly and you do, broken pleas falling from your lips.
“I mean,” Denki breathes, elbowing Sero, “Are we all gonna pretend this hot as shit?” He palms his lengh. “Sorry bro, but jesus fucking christ.”
“She’s so fucking hot like this,” Kirishima whispers, leaning forward.
“I wanna see her cry more.” Sero grins.
“Shut. The fuck. Up.” Bakugou growls, turning to his friends.
“I mean,” Denki says, smirking, barely audible over your pleading, “This is why you don’t get drunk and bet your girlfriend.” He shrugs. “Right, I mean, I know I’m right. Oi,” he says to Deku and Shindou, “What do I have to do to have a turn?”
“Join a different agency!” Deku says brightly, momentarily distracted. “I invited Iida and Shouto and they were so sorry they had conflicts. I made it work.”
“Please,” you beg, feeling Deku’s cock hit that spongey spot inside you easily with every thrust, “Please can I cum, I’m gonna,” you squirm, trying to get away from Shindou’s magically vibrating tongue, “Please, I’m gonna lose it.”
“Can she?” Deku looks to Bakugou. “Gonna let your girlfriend cum on my cock?”
“Please Kats,” you whimper, “Please Katsuki, please, please, I’ll be good, need it-”
“You need it?” Shindou says, dripping in condescension.
“Yes,” you choke out a sob, “Yes I need it, daddy please.”
“She can.” Bakugou says, eyes all over your body, on every mark they leave, every bruise, every rough touch, and a smirk slides across his face, “Cum for me, bitch.” You twitch in their arms, your orgasm ripping through you like a knife, it’s like you’ve been thrown off a cliff, the free fall is ecstatic and terrifying. Deku fucks you even harder, Shindou pulls away to watch Deku’s cock disappearing into your soaking cunt.
“Fuck, baby,” Deku groans, throwing his head back, “Fuck you’re gonna make me, fuck, I’m gonna cum, inside,” his voice gets deeper, darker, “Wanna breed this fuckin’ pussy,” he tightens his grip on your hips and Bakugou scowls. “Gonna cum inside, you wanna have my fuckin’ kids, you wanna have the next number one hero, right baby?”
“Ohmygod,” you cry out loudly, not at all coherent. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” your voice carries as you keep cumming, the orgasm is a few minutes long, Deku fucks you through it and Shindou carefully keeps you right on the edge of overstimulation.
“You belong to him, huh?” Shindou asks, while you’re still breathing heavily, choking out little sobs, Deku lifts you off his cock and sets you on all fours on the coffee table, so that Bakugou can watch the number one hero’s cum dribble out of your pussy, thick and white. “Lick that shit up.” Bakugou looks at Shindou like he’s insane. “I’ll punish her, if you don’t.” Shindou threatens. “And she’ll take it, but it won’t be pleasant. I promise.” Bakugou swallows, looking at the way you’re already trembling.
“Fine.” He says gruffly, and Denki inhales sharply. “Shut the fuck up.” He says again, sinking to his knees on the carpet, all the men in the room watch you soften at his comforting touch, the way you shiver with happiness when he rubs a circle in your thigh. “Baby,” he coos, “Baby, color?”
“Green.” You mumble, and he pauses, mouth inches from your cunt.
“You sure?” His touches are feather light.
“I am.” You say. “Thank you for asking, though.”
“There’s nothin’ I wouldn’t do for ya.” He says, leaning forward and licking a stripe up your core, pulling more moans from your lips as he laps roughly at your overstimulated, swollen hole, wiping his mouth off with his hand when he’s done. Deku ghosts light patterns on your back with his fingertips and Shindou rubs the top of your head before slipping the blindfold off of your eye.
“Hi, baby,” he coos, and you blink, getting used to the light. “I wantcha to look at your boyfriend, can you do that for me?” You nod and he lifts you, turning you around so that you’re face to face with Bakugou, still on his knees by the coffee table.
“I love you.” The words tumble from his lips before he can stop them, just as Shindou lines himself up behind you, frowning, missing the surprised expression on your face.
“Do you love her?” Shindou asks, the head of his cock pausing at your entrance. “Or is she convenient?” He pushes himself inside you and Bakugou watches your mouth drop open Shindou starts to fuck you.
“I love her.” Bakugou says, staring up at the other man. “I do.”
“Because,” Shindou throws his head back, groaning before responding, “Fuck, what a good little cocksleeve,” he slaps your ass hard, and tears spring to your eyes in front to Bakugou. “Because we both know she’s hurting,” he rolls his hips against you and you shudder with pleasure, “Her career, by staying at your agency.”
“Fuck you.” Bakugou says.
“I,” you choke out, “It doesn’t,” you whimper when Shindou reaches two fingers around your body and you feel your knees buckle as they start to vibrate against your bud.
“It’s selfish,” Deku says, pulling himself out of his post orgasm haze to jump in, “To keep her there, when she has better offers.”
“What kinda self worth do you have,” Shindou says to you, touching you softly as his words rip right through your skin, “To stay with a guy who would loan you out like this, huh?” You take a shaky breath in.
“Why,” you gasp again, trying to form sentences, as Shindou plows into you, setting a brutal pace, “Oh, oh my god,” you feel his cock filling you completely, feel the boy's eyes on your body.
“You can touch her.” Shindou says to the men on the couch and it’s a moment before any of them reach for you. Denki’s first. He cups your breast and lets out a low whistle.
“She’s so pretty,” Kirishima breathes, “So good,” he coos, reaching out, cupping the side of your face, stroking your teary cheek with his thumb, “So good.” Bakugou swallows, reaching within himself, wondering why he can’t offer you the same kind of validation, wondering why you’re doing this for him, why you work with him, when Deku is the number one, when Shindou does better on popularity numbers, when Kirishima was more kind, when Denki wasn’t afraid to touch you in public. You open your eyes, and see the tears in Bakugou’s,
“I need a break.” You say quickly and all the men let you go as you leap at Bakugou, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Hey,” you say softly, “Hey baby, where did you go on me, huh?” He swallows.
“I just,” he peels you off of him so hard that you stumble back, Deku catches you. “I just dont uh,” He stands. “I know I don’t deserve you.” His voice is barely a whisper.
“You made a mistake.” You say, standing to meet him, cupping his face in one of your hands but he grabs your wrist and peels you off of him.
“I,” he pauses. “I gotta go.”
“Katsuki,” you say, your voice hitching in your throat, “Seriously I-”
“I bet you?” He says, shaking his head, backing away. “And you didn’t dump me?” Your teeth close on your bottom lip and there’s an awkward silence.
“I love you.” You say, and behind you Shindou pulls his sweats back up to his hips. “I love you, okay, and I-” He shakes his head, cutting you off, bile rising in his throat.
“They’re right.” He says sharply. “You shoulda taken a good offer, and told me to go to hell.” Your eyes widen and he grabs his coat off of the back of a chair. “I’ll drop your stuff off. Don’t call me.” He nearly runs out of the room before you can summon the breath to respond. There’s an awkward pause. Kirishima stands.
“We’ll take care of it,” he gives you a soft pat on the head and Sero and Denki nod, following the redhead out of the room. The door closes with a soft click and you turn around to Shindou and Deku.
“Um,” you swallow.
“Don’t do anything,” Deku says quickly, snatching a blanket off of the back of Shindou’s couch, wrapping your body in it and gathering you in his arms. Shindou collapses on the couch and Deku joins him, sitting you like that, in between them.
“What um,” you blink a couple times, “What’s happening?”
“Kacchan freaked out,” Deku says softly, Shindou reaches over and rubs circles in your thigh. “He’s right, though, by the way, that you sacrificed your career to work at his agency.” Your lips twitch.
“I didn’t think I was anything special.” You mutter.
“Oh,” Shindou says, combing his fingers through your hair, sending shivers down your spine, “You really are, sweetheart, and I could pull the stats to prove it.” You curl up in a ball on the couch.
“Am I an idiot?” You ask, your voice is tight and small. The two men exchange a worried glance over your head.
“No,” Deku says, “No okay,” he rubs a comforting circle in your shoulder. “Listen, get dressed, and we’ll take care of you tonight.”
“You um,” you wipe your face, turning to Shindou, “You didn’t cum, I”m-”
“I literally don’t care,” he says, rolling his eyes, “Not to be rude but I’m a pro hero, if I wanna get laid, I get laid.” He puts a hand on your thigh through the blanket. “Stay here, okay?” He looks to Deku. “Grab her a glass of water and just take a sweatshirt from my closet.” A few minutes later you’re sipping a glass of cool water and wearing soft clothes.
“I was pretty surprised when I heard you agreed to this,” Deku says softly, “I mean, I know you had a crush on Kacchan when you were in general studies, but uh, I was surprised he asked you to work at his agency before you started dating.” Your jaw tightens and Shindou slips an arm around your shoulders.
“I,” you whisper, “He just, he seems so sure all the time, he’d tell me something, and I’d just believe it.” You shake your head. “Fuck, I, he just dumped me. I-in front of all of you.” The corners of your mouth force themselves downward.
“This is sort of what I wanted to say in the hallway to you,” Shindou says, “That I know you like him, but he doesn’t,” he pauses, picking the right words, “Sorry, it’s not a problem with his personal valuation of you. It’s a problem with his professional evaluation of you.” You nod a couple times.
“Thanks for um, taking such good care of me.” You say, standing abruptly, reaching for panties where they’re crumpled on the floor. “I should go though, I’m sure you don’t want to deal with this.” The two men stand in nearly perfect synchronization.
“Please.” Deku says, taking a step towards you. “Hear us out.” You start looking for your panties, “Look at me.” He reaches out and cups your face, speaking with a bit more authority, and you freeze. “You’re such a good girl,” he says, and you melt into the softness of his touch, head spinning, “That’s it,” he says, seeing you relax, and he pulls you into his chest. “What if you stayed with me,” he murmurs, “And we talked about it in the morning.”
“With you?” You glance at Shindou, who comes and stands behind you, locking his arms around Deku, trapping you between them.
“Do you honestly have any friends who won’t take Bakugou’s side?” Deku says and your lips droop downward.
“I don’t.” You say, knowing Mina wouldn’t, knowing Sero and Denki and Kirishima had already chased Bakugou when he’d left, rather than checking on you. The two men smell like pine and cedar, and they feel so, stable.
“Don’t waste your time worrying about that,” Deku murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “If you wanna cry, you can cry to us, that’s fine..” You nod slowly.
“Bakugou,” your lower lip trembles, “He just left me here.”
“He did.” Shindou says, resting his chin on the top of your head. “But we’re here.” You nod slowly.
“O-okay, I’ll um, I’ll go with you, Deku, I,” You lose track of the sentence, still reeling. Shindou kisses the top of your head and Deku gives your waist a little squeeze.
“We’ll take such good care of you, baby.” He says. “You can trust us.” You nod again, wiping your tears as you let them gather you on the couch. “I’ll get a blanket, we can put on a movie and order food.” He picks his phone up off of the coffee table and goes to Shindou’s bedroom. He stops, and takes a deep breath, catching Shindou’s smug expression. He just shrugs, and takes his phone out, knowing that his co workers are anxiously waiting for an update.
Deku: it wasn’t that hard.
Iida: he didn’t? Did he?
Shouto: of course he couldn’t handle it, bakugou’s more ego than he is human being.
Deku: kinda hate myself for suggesting this but you wanna dip early at work and come make her feel better? She’s pretty upset, and I’m worried Shindou’s gonna take our money and the healer.
Iida: it’s heroic of us, to save her from working for anyone else, but I can sense you have doubts, Midoriya.
Shouto: she needs a caretaker. We can do that for her, keep her safe. I’m happy to ask the interns to cover for us.
Shouto: how much did we need to bribe shindou to get him to pick this fight with Bakugou?
Deku: 10K and he can borrow her a few times a year but it’ll be worth it. We need her.
Shouto: We do, and she needs us. She just doesn’t know it yet.
Iida: agree.
Deku sighs, sliding his phone back into his sweatpants pocket and returning to the couch where he tucks the blanket around you. Shindou releases you and gently pushes you towards the other pro hero. To Deku’s delight you take his hand with both of yours, leaning into him.
“Kacchan’s an idiot.” He says softly, as Shindou gets up and walks to the restroom, tossing Midoriya a sly smile over his shoulder. You shrug.
“I love him.” You look up at Midoriya and his heart breaks. He's never seen you this vulnerable, not in the field, not during exams, not even when someone was gravely injured. Your eyes are watery and unfocused, and your lower lip is trembling.
“It’s not your fault.” He says, hating the little string inside of him pulling him down the path of least resistance, causing his mouth to form the words he knows will make you stay. “I know how hard you’ve been trying, and he’s just not ready yet. He’s too immature.” You sniff, and remember confiding your crush to one person, and one person only, listing your reservations to a very patient Kendo Itsuka. You had no way of knowing, none at all, that Deku was standing outside the classroom listening, and that these years later he’d use your own fears against you.
“I have been trying hard.” You warble, folding into him. He rubs your back. “I’ve been trying so hard.” Midoriya nods.
“He never yells at you, does he?” You hear a sharp undercurrent in his voice, and feel the pro hero relax as you shake your head.
“But even watching it, I feel like, I dunno.” You mumble, hiding. He leans over and kisses your head.
“It’s not that late.” He offers, and if you peek through the curtains of the huge window in the apartment you can see the last vestiges of golden light shining through. The sun has not quite set. “Shouto and Tenya are going to a bar if you wanted to come out and meet them, maybe Uraraka might come by.” You swallow.
“I haven’t seen them in a while.” You stretch. “But I should, I should um,” You blink back tears, “Did he dump me or fire me?” Midoriya winces.
“Both, I think.”
“Fuck.” You rub your eyes. “I wanna actually, I want to go to my office and pick up my stuff but,” you lift your head, eyes wide, “You won’t make me do that by myself, will you?”
“Of course not,” he says, oozing sincerity, “Of course we will, how about we rip the band aid off, I can have them pick us up here?” You nod, burying your face in his chest, heart aching.
______
You say your goodbyes to Shindou, who gives you a warm hug and a soft kiss on the forehead, and waves your concerns away when you mention promising to return his clothes. Midoriya pockets his phone when you step out into the hallway.
“They’re gonna meet us downstairs in a car.” he says, and your eyes widen.
“Oh oh, that’s not necessary, I don’t need anything fancy.” You shrug. “I could call an uber or-”
“We have drivers.” Midoriya cuts you off. “So it’s no trouble really. No trouble at all.” He offers you a hand, and you take it, letting him lead you to the elevator and through the lobby, feeling him rub circles in your palm with his thumb. The car that pulls up is sleek and black, and Deku opens the door for you before helping you climb up into the backseat.
“Hello,” Iida greets you stiffly, and you squirm with embarrassment as you reach for a seatbelt. “I hear you had a rather difficult evening.” You glance fearfully back at Midoriya, who flashes his palms.
“I spared them the details.”
“I’m just an idiot.” You mumble, burning with embarrassment, flopping in the seat next to Shouto, who pats your knee awkwardly.
“Well,” he considers, “You’ve made a series of decisions based on how they felt, rather than thinking about them, and perhaps that’s an experience to be learned from.” You burst into tears as Midoriya closes the car door and gives Shouto a stern look. “I, but,” he says quickly, wrapping an arm around your waist, scooting you closer to him, “You don’t have to do it by yourself anymore.” He blurts. “If you want, we’ll, we can be helpful.”
“I think what Shouto means,” Midoriya says, as you feel the engine of the car hum to life, “Is that it might be worth it to lean on your friends for a bit.”
“All my friends are gonna take Bakugou’s side,” you snip bitterly, wiping your face on your sleeve as Iida hands you a handkerchief.
“I don’t take his side.” Shouto says sharply. “And I’m your friend.” You perk up the slightest degree at that, so he keeps going, “I’d never,” he shakes his head, huffing, “I’d never bet you. If you were mine I’m not sure I’d let you out of my sight.” That makes you laugh, you wipe some of your tears and you lean against him.
“Bakugou’s impulsive,” Iida says gently, adjusting his glasses, “You deserve stability, both in your workplace, of course, and romantically.” He stretches his shoulder a little and through your tears and little sobs notice the pain in his face.
“Did you,” you reach for him, distracted, “Did you hyperextend your elbow?” he cocks his head at you, confused. “You might have, sorry,” you mutter, wiping your face and scooting across the black leather seat towards him. “Let me just,” you take his hand quickly and energy shoots from your fingertips up his arm, pooling at his elbow. He lets out a little sigh of relief.
“I, didn’t even realize I’d injured myself.” He squints at you. “You know, if you need to find a new job quickly, perhaps you could work for us?” You blink up at him, and all three men watch and wait as your teeth sink into your lower lip.
“I suppose,” you look down at your hands. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” There’s a brief silence, where each man considers their own integrity, their ambition, and the mark this little lie would have on their immortal souls.
“We could hire you,” Deku says finally, somehow managing to make it sound nonchalant, unpracticed. “On a trial basis, of course.” You look up at him eyes wide.
“Please,” you lean forward, “I’ll, I’ll owe you forever, I, Midoriya I have rent to pay and student loan debt so I need a job.”
“That’s what friends are for,” he says, keeping his smile light. “We’ll help you carry your things from his office, but um, there’s the matter of where you’re going to sleep tonight?” You wince, and rub your eyes.
“I was going to get a hotel.”
“That’s not necessary.” Shouto cuts in. “I have a guest room.”
“We all have guest rooms.” Midoriya says, and it might be your imagination but his eyes darken just a little. “You’d be quite safe with any of us, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for someone with a powerful healing quirk to stay alone in a hotel.”
“Of course.” Iida agrees and your phone buzzes in your pocket. You glance at it then put it.
“It’s Kirishima.” You press your lips together. “I don’t want to talk to him though.” You let it ring, letting it vibrate in your palm. Iida clears his throat and holds his hand out. You give him the phone and a tiny warmth sparks in his chest.
“Good girl.” He says stiffly. “I’ll give this back to you tomorrow.”
“They’re all going to hate me for breaking his heart,” new hot tears squeeze from your eyes and Shouto pulls you into his chest, warm hand on your waist, much to Iida’s and Deku’s displeasure you curl into him.
“Shhhh,” he breathes, rubbing your back. “No they won’t, and if they do, they’re idiots.” You manage an almost laugh and he lights up at the minor success. You refuse to lift your face from his chest, until the car pulls up to the empty hero office building, it’s so late now that the only people present are the cleaning staff. Your office is small, but there are a few personal items and a fair amount of books to be boxed up. The three pro heroes make quick work of it, with Deku snatching the framed photo of you and Bakugou at graduation and placing it face down in the cardboard box. Shouto floats to you, resting a hand on the small of your back.
“I didn’t mean to imply,” he says quietly, “In the car, I didn’t mean to imply that you were wrong to trust your heart. I wasn’t suggesting alternative action.” You look up at him, suddenly feeling quite tired. “I was suggesting an alternative method of collecting data.” You nod slowly.
“So you weren’t chastising me for listening to my heart.” You reach up and take one of your last books off the office shelf.
“I was chastising you for ignoring your head.” He pats your back, taking the book from you and closing the box. “Is that the last of it?” He turns to the other two men, who nod. “You’re staying with me?” He says so smoothly the others barely notice it. “I assume that it might be awkward, after tonight to stay with Midoriya, and Iida’s all the way across town.”
“Thanks, Todoroki.” You say softly, before either of them can jump in. He nods, the smallest smile on his lips.
“Don’t mention it.”
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you excuse yourself and the three men stand in awkward silence until the door closes behind you.
“What the hell are you doing?” Deku hisses.
“Inviting a beautiful woman to sleep in my guest room?” Shouto raises his eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I mean I’ve already,” Deku blushes a little but plows forward, “I’ve already fucked her, so I sort of assumed that was me calling dibs I-”
“Absolutely not.” Iida interrupts. “Bakugou has also slept with her, and none of us respected that claim.” His words hang awkwardly in the room for a moment. “We can’t fight over our healer,” he says seriously, “It makes the most sense for both of you to get out of my way.”
“Out of your way?” Shouto says, eyebrows raised. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”
“You’re not emotionally intelligent enough to handle her,” Iida says, with a little shrug, “And you’re too emotional and committed to being the number one hero to spend enough time with her. I’m the obvious choice.”
“No?” Deku sputters. “No you’re not-” The door opens and you step back inside, looking a little puffier than you had when you’d left.
“Todoroki, can we go?” You say, eyelids drooping. “I really just want to be alone.” He nods, extending an arm for you to take like a regency era gentleman, and sweeping you out of the room. He calls a separate car in the elevator with just a few taps of his smartphone, swiping away his group chat messages from his angry hero partners.
Deku: seriously? I just assumed I had dibs.
Iida: never assume dibs.
Shouto: I thought dibs were “an antiquated form of dividing wealth”
Iida: I come from a long line of people who called dibs, we just never did it so colloquially.
Deku: we can’t let this be a problem.
Shouto: agreed, the two of you can fuck off.
Iida: I don’t think so.
Deku: I also don’t think that’s the solution.
Shouto: she’s had quite a day so I’m going to focus on her :) goodnight.
He pockets his phone, and feels a twinge of guilt at your red rimmed eyes, but it dissipates when you sigh and lean against him as you wait for the car. Neither of you speaks for most of the drive, the silence is surprisingly comfortable. He leads you through the building,and the elevator rockets you up to his penthouse, where he takes you by the hand and sits you on his dark leather couch, taking the throw blanket from the corner and tucking it around you.
“Sorry,” he says softly, “I have maybe an invasive question.” You blink up at him. “Have you ever, ah, I mean I don’t want to make assumptions about the nature of the activity earlier, but you’ve really folded in on yourself.” You nod, tucking your legs into your chest. “Have you, were you,” he stops himself, bringing some courage to the surface. “Was it particularly rough, generally, I-”
“Yes.” You blurt, and he frowns, darting to his kitchen and coming back with a cool glass of water that he sets on the coffee table in front of you, before sitting on the couch next to you. “And,” you mumble, “I feel so dumb.”
“May I touch you?” He asks, and you nod, sniffling. He sits down next to you and pulls your legs into his lap, tucking your head into his chest. “Is it incredibly rude of me to assume you subbed?” You laugh bitterly.
“No.” You close your eyes.
“Sub drops are uncomfortable but fairly common.” He presses his lips to the top of your head. “I’m sure you were very good,” he gives you a gentle squeeze, “Sure you were a good girl for them.” You sniff again, feeling your heart rate calm a bit. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” You shake your head, relaxing into him.
“I just wanna talk to K-katsuki.” You get out. “But he said not to call him, so I, I can’t do that.” Shouto flips his memory to the early days of therapy back when he was maybe, sixteen, finding an old rhythm.
“What would you want to say to him, if he were here?”
“That I don’t care,” your voice rises a bit, “Where I work, but I,” you squirm uncomfortably. It floats to Todoroki’s mind a second before it comes out of your mouth. “Did you like me, or did you need a healer at your agency?” Shouto squeezes you again. “And is that why you bet me?” Your voice gets small again, “B-because you already saw me like an object?”
“If I were Bakugou,” Shouto says, and then clears his throat, “I’d uh, I’d probably say something like I care for you, very much, but I’m not in a place emotionally to value you like you deserve to be valued.” You laugh lightly.
“He’d have sworn.”
“He would have.” Shouto agreed. “You know we get fined when we do that on broadcasts, so I’ve trained myself out of it for the most part.”
“You were the only one who cursed as much as him in school.” You snuggle against him, closing your eyes.
“You can sleep, but have a sip of water for me.” He says, reaching for the glass and bringing it to your lips, waiting until you’ve drunk at least half of it to set it back down, holding you tightly against his body. Your eyes flutter shut, but he can’t bring himself to stop talking to you. “Do you remember when we met?” he asks, and you think about it, so much of that day now was Katsuki, when he’d yelled at you and you’d surprised everyone, including yourself when you’d yelled back. The way Kirishima and Mina had spirited you off to their lunch table, how you’d spent the next four years living, and breathing, and studying with them. “You ah, you helped me with my wrists.” He offers and you nod, remembering.
“You were locking them when you were fighting,” you yawn, “Repetitive stress injury.” He nods, and you take his hand, running your fingers over the callouses. The cracked skin softens and heals in real time.
“You don’t have to do that.” He says quietly and you shrug.
“Consider that one on the house.” You yawn again and close your eyes, consciousness slipping from you like a wave back into the ocean. Shouto takes a minute before taking his phone out, scrolling through the group chat messages.
Shouto: I might not feel good about this.
Iida: so return her to me.
Shouto: no no I mean breaking bakugou and y/n up on purpose.
Deku: it’s what’s best for her!
Shouto: she’s quite upset.
Iida: so don’t sleep with her?
Shouto: I really want to though. Fuck I really want to.
Shouto: also I think she sub dropped deku way to fucking go
Deku: ooop I was concerned about that but she did also go through a breakup like,,, mid scene so I wasn’t sure how to proceed
Shouto: She’s sleeping in my lap.
Deku: okay so you’re welcome???
Deku: fucking her only made this worse she’s so sweet
Shouto traces your outline, and you let out the softest sound, snuggling into him. He doesn’t dare move, not when his stomach growls or when the light changes in the apartment. Eventually, when the clock blinks 12AM, he touches your shoulder softly, but doesn’t wake you all the way, just enough so that you’re semi conscious as he carries you down the hall to his guest room, laying you on the clean sheets and tucking the duvet around your body. He pauses for a moment, watching your chest rise and fall easily, the creases gone from your forehead. He wracks his brain, stepping outside the room, how long had he even been aware of you? From the first moment, he decides, from that first day, when you’d touched his arm and the pain had melted away you’d been, something to him. A friend, maybe, at first, and then, someone who was kind to him. Someone who didn’t treat him like a celebrity, or a pariah, or an object.
That’s what’s on his mind as he pads softly down the hallway, and looks out over the city. It would be cruel of him, he surmises, not to take care of you, when you spend so much time caring for everyone else.
_____ One Month Earlier: All Might Hero Agency
“Ugh,” Deku groans, rubbing his eyes and setting his phone on the table. “I can’t watch this.”
“What’s happening?” Iida says, looking up from his takeout container. The three of them were working a late night at the agency.
“I think y/n moved in with Bakugou.” Deku turns his phone around and shows the other two pro heroes. Iida sighs, and Todoroki frowns. “I just, okay.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “I’ve known him my whole life, right, and he’s better, a lot better than he was. But better, better isn’t that good, still.”
“I remember how he spoke to you our freshman year.” Iida says. “And then he had the audacity to fail the licensing exam anyway.” Todoroki clears his throat. “And you did as well, I remember.”
“Which one of us went rogue with intent to kill,” Shouto muses, “I can’t remember.”
“The point,” Deku says, “Is that she took his job offer, she’s moving in with him, she works for him, I mean, she’s our friend, it’s a conflict of interest, maybe we should say something.”
“Her friends should say something,” Iida couches, “Maybe Mina, or Kirishima, they both occasionally had level heads.”
“I’m sure he’s made her all kinds of promises,” Deku shakes his head, “I just feel like she doesn’t realize her own potential, or what she’s getting herself into working for him.”
“I heard,” Iida says, pausing to take a sip of his water, “I heard that she took his offer without reading it, Sero told Tokoyami who told me.”
“Without looking at it?” Shouto wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Does she know, I mean, she got other offers.” There’s a brief silence. “I know that once she started liking Bakugou she was essentially blind to anyone else,” he covers a laugh with a little cough, “Remember when Inasa met her, he,” the laugh escapes this time. “He kissed her hand and she just said, ‘Thank you’, and went to go check on us.”
“I do remember him being quite surprised at her indifference.” Iida smiles. “But yes, I always thought maybe it would pass but she seemed so blind to his flaws, I just assumed one of them would talk her out of it.” He frowns. “I hope, I hope he speaks to her more kindly than he did in class, at least when they’re alone.”
“Kacchan’s not a bad person,” Deku jumps in, “I don’t think he’d hurt her on purpose, but I mean, it feels, it feels wrong that we know he’s taking advantage of her liking him to get her to work at his agency.”
“Do we know that?” Todoroki asks. “Maybe he gave her a good offer.”
“He must have.” Iida couches. “I wonder,” he trails off, “Maybe we should check in. As friends, of course, I,” a slight blush creeps up on his cheeks, “She’s quite, ah, capable. I just think we should remind her that should this for some reason fall through, that she’s not an island, you know?”
“Yeah,” Deku nods quickly. “We could stop by, um for lunch or something, maybe bring them a housewarming gift.” He fidgets. “I, I could text Kacchan, and see what days work but, um, he might tell me to fuck off.”
“You’re the number one pro hero,” Iida rolls his eyes. “Just show up. She’ll be happy to see you.”
“I’ll come.” Todoroki jumps in. “If you don’t mind, I, it’s been a while since I’ve seen her, and I know I spent less time with her than you but we still were ah,” he thinks about the amount of vulnerability it took for him to be comfortable with even your gentle touch, how he’d started to miss it after graduation, how he’d found himself looking forward to seeing you after a hard fight, and remembering you wouldn’t be there.
“Ah,” Deku pauses, “I think um, we were close, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to see her on my own.” He laughs, “I mean, no one spent more time with her than I did.”
“It’s true.” Iida confirms, “Especially her first year, I had half a thought that they got us a healer specifically to keep your growth with One for All from stagnating due to your reckless nature.” Deku’s face colors. “No offense, obviously.” Iida says, looking distracted. “I did always wonder if you were ever jealous, since she was so focused on Bakugou despite how much time you spent together.”
“She um, she talked about him a lot, yeah.” Deku says, suddenly very interested in his takeout. “But it’s not like I didn’t get it, like I said I grew up with him. He’s a big personality.” The words hang in the silence.
“You, get it then?” Iida says, “What she sees in him, I mean, because I can’t for the life of me understand it. She’s so sweet, and gentle, and he’s loud and abrasive.” There’s a silence. Deku swallows a big bite of dinner.
“You’ll tell us then,” Todoroki says, “If you pop by their apartment, you’ll tell us how she is?”
“Sure.” Deku says, and Todoroki is struck for the first time in a long time with the reminder of how difficult it was to tell when Midoriya Izuku was lying.
___
Midoriya stands at your doorway, having rung the bell at a time he’s sure is too late for you to be at the office, but when he knows Bakugou is out on patrol. He only has to wait a moment before the door swings open and he’s rewarded with your presence, soft and sweet as you had been when you were in school.
“Oh!” Your eyes widen with surprise, adorable. “Deku, I’m so sorry, actually Bakugou’s not here,” you step aside to let him in without a second thought, of course you do. He’d only been the number one hero for a few months, it had actually taken longer than expected, but of course you trust him, everyone did.. He’s surprised, the place you’re sharing is modest, the view is nice but it’s a one bedroom with a small kitchen.
“I’m actually here to see you.” He says, and watches your reaction carefully. You don’t betray anything, giving him a confused smile.
“Are you injured?” You cock your head at him. “I can’t imagine anyone could land a punch on you.” He laughs.
“No, I mean, we spent a lot of time together in school and it just occurred to me that I haven’t seen you since graduation.” He flattens his palms on your countertop. “I wanted to catch up, if it’s a good time.”
“Well,” you take the teapot off the stove and fill it with water, when your back is to him his eyes flick to your ass, the curve of your hips in your jeans. “I can’t believe the number one hero made time for little old me.” You set it on the stove, turning the burner on.
“Please,” he says, “You know that without your help in school I wouldn’t be number one, hell, doubt I’d be top 50.” You shake your head, leaning against the counter next to the stove as he takes a seat at your island.
“You were always determined, there were just times that determination took a real toll on your corporeal form.” You shrug. “I put you back together and you’d hop right back out there, it’s an honor to be a footnote in your story.” You catch his eyes, they’re slightly narrowed, there’s something about the way Midoriya looks at you that makes you feel like you’re a molecule under a microscope.
“You really think of yourself like that?” He says softly, and he watches your eyes flick to your bedroom door, to the sweatshirt discarded on a chair that’s far too large to be yours. “You think of yourself like a footnote in someone else's story?” A sad little smile flashes across your face.
“Sorry, Deku, I won’t unload on you.” You turn away from him again, taking two mugs down from the cabinet and set them on the counter, carefully selecting a tea bag for each of them.
“Do you call Kacchan by his hero name,” He teases gently, “I’m Midoriya, c’mon, still the same idiot who broke every bone in his body at least once when he was in college.” That gets a laugh out of you.
“No, I don’t call Katsuki Dynamight when we're alone.” You set the tea in front of him, and Midoriya is grateful for the distraction, shocked at the way you casually drop his best friends first name.
“Katsuki,” He repeats, unable to stop himself, and his stomach twists as you fidget nervously.
“It’s new.” You admit. “But I like it, honestly it suits him.”
“Huh.” Midoriya blows on his tea. “You can, by the way, unload on me, I’m pretty strong or y’know,” he flashes you a sheepish grin, “That’s what they’re saying on the news these days.” You look at him, but he sees through your polite smile, you look exhausted. “What’s up, really?” He tries. You look back at the sweatshirt on the couch.
“He’s working hard.” You say, nearly whispering, like he can hear you. “But he’s frustrated, and I want to help and I don’t know how to get him to let me in.” You shrug. “You know this has been his dream his whole life, Midoriya, and I know he had a lot of growing up to do. Still does maybe.” You chew your lip. “I just wish he knew how much I believe in him.”
“Yeah?” Midoriya manages, bile rising in his throat.
“Yeah.” You sigh deeply. “Like, I know he can be a good hero, and I get that the red tape and performative shit is hard for him, but he’s so kind, deep down.” You light up, as if you’d just remembered something. “Promise not to tell him I told you about this?” He nods, and watches you flit to the refrigerator and take something out. “He’s been making me lunch every day. No matter when he gets back from patrol, when I get up there’s a bento for me.” You squirm, like the happiness inside you is fighting to get out. “He loses his temper, sometimes, but I do really believe he cares about me.”
“Does he lose his temper with you?” Midoriya asks, keeping his voice perfectly modulated, tinged with just the edge of concern.
“Not usually.” You press your lips together. “I know he’s frustrated.” You repeat, and shrug again. “I believe in him.”
“And what about you?” Midoriya presses, gently, strategically. You laugh at that, genuinely.
“What about me?” You repeat again, but continue, afraid of sounding like a parrot. “I mean, I can’t hold up a building, I can’t win a battle, pretty sure you could pin me in less than a second.” His muscles twitch at the invitation but he stays seated, sipping his tea. “I’m always going to be there when powerful people need me.” You couch. “But I’m not deluded enough to think that makes me powerful.”
“You’re not.” He sets the mug back on the table. “But you are important. I suppose there’s a difference, isn’t there?” You nod. “I can leap through walls, and fly, and fight, and win, but at the end of the day I need you,” he catches himself, “Or someone like you to keep me in condition to do it.” You nod slowly.
“You’re very kind to me.” You say eventually. “You always were, Midoriya.” His mouth goes dry. “I often felt alone, when we were in school. But you always took the time to talk to me, while I healed you. I appreciate that.”
“I consider you a friend.” He smiles at you. “Not just a healer.” He watches you process that information, watches your lips twitch downward. “What, what’s up?” He pushes, just a little harder now.
“I don’t think,” you muse, thinking out loud. “I don’t think Bakugou thought of me as a friend, until,” he watches you remember something that clearly embarasses you, “Until um,” you laugh, “Actually the story is funny, if you promise not to be weird about it I’ll tell you.” Midoriya forces a laugh, and smiles, holding out a pinky finger.
“Promise.”
“He um,” you lean forward conspiratorially, “I don’t think he saw me as more than the person who put him back together after a fight until he saw someone else flirt with me and decided he didn’t like it.” Midoriya rubs his chin.
“Oooh wait, what happened?” He keeps the excitement in his voice normal, modulated.
“It was at one of the interschool events,” you giggle, and he’s transported back in time,
He can see the way you used to hide behind your hair when you were nervous, the way you’d look after staying up all night studying, your smiling face in the stands at sports festivals. “Do you remember Shindou Yo?” Midoriya blinks, of course, of course he remembered Grand, his face was plastered all over the center of the city right now in some cologne ad.
“I do, yeah.” He leans forward, listening.
“While you were all competing, he sort of pulled me aside and he was asking me all these questions about my quirk, and healing, and what you were all like, and at first I thought he was sniffing around for information about his competition but then he um, he just rested a hand on the small of my back while we were talking and I realized I was being hit on.” You pause for dramatic effect. “Didn’t even take five seconds, Katsuki was there immediately, as angry as I’d ever seen him, dragging me back to the group.” You laugh. “And essentially he hasn’t taken his hands off of me since.”
“Really?” Midoriya shrugs. “And that doesn’t make you feel like, I dunno,” he pauses, searching for the right words, the ones that will sow the doubt he’s looking to nurture.
“It made me feel wanted.” You sip your tea. “And I’d be the first to admit he has some rough edges, and a fucking awful temper.” You shiver despite the warmth of the room and that’s it, that’s the thread Midoriya wants to pull.
“What do you mean?” He asks, knowing already.
“Oh,” you wrap an arm around your ribcage. “It’s hard for him to direct his anger at a source right, something goes poorly and if you’re standing too close you’ll get caught in the explosion, for lack of a better metaphor. He always apologizes though,” your smile gets a little wistful. “We’re working on it.”
“Uh huh.” Midoriya says. “Good for you.”
_____ Present
Shouto can’t sleep. It’s not natural for him, and he fumbles in his drawer for the little orange pill bottle he’d regularly relied on during school, taking one out and letting it dissolve on his tongue. He feels his heartbeat slow, remembering what his therapist said about panic, and about analysis when you were panicked. That when his body was in fight or flight mode, analysis was pointless. He breathes out slow, and wonders if you’re doing the same, if you’re dreaming of Bakugou, if you’re dreaming of the apartment you’d shared, of Shindou’s hands on your body, of Deku’s. He sits upright in bed, sweating, tossing his thin cotton pajama shirt on the ground before flopping backwards. Even in his medically induced sleep, his dreams keep him from true rest, he wanders through disaster zones, stumbles through fires, makes his way across ruined cities, all following the sound of your voice.
pls if you enjoyed this hop in my ask box or leave a comment/please reblog
More Posts from Maboiisuga and Others
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 - 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐁 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔 title: champagne confetti - side B pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: tba beta read by @chaoticpuff17 release date: january 2025
Prompt 1: “you give me brand new emotion, you got me drinking that potion” Prompt 2: The lines did blur, in his mind for sure. Will you be tamed or will your passion for fashion falter for greater good - a life without Jeon Jungkook. When everything you’ve worked for hangs in the balance, his twisted love comes as both a gift and a curse.
summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?
warnings: minors dni 18+ | physical violence, hint of incapable police department, jk is the boy saviour here and everybody bends backwards for his famous ass, dubious consent, possessive/obsessive behavior, emotional manipulation, references to medication that affects mental and physical responses as "drugs" or "pills" or "medication", power imbalance, themes of isolation and confinement, gaslighting, mentions of mafia and criminal underworld, forced intimacy, oral sex (m!receiving), numbness, reader's difficulties getting wet, use of lube, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding/cow girl, orgasm difficulties, creampie, and so on (if i'll forgot smth, im so soorrryy!)
disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.
this is a sequel, read part one of 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 main masterlist
author's note: so, where to start right? this was a long ass ride, mainly because i was fighting with myself to not burn out on this fic coz i loved it so much, and i still love it, but i won't lie that i got lil overwhelmed with how much love this fic received. I am so so so grateful for each and one of you! ♥ and thank you for your patience too. Life's not easy, please understand that, i always try my best. Thank you all. OH! I hope you will, have, or had very lovely and holy, merry christmas fairies ♥
You looked down at your mug, swirling the mulled wine as you gathered your thoughts. “I... I think I’m ready to go back to work,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.
The change in Jungkook’s demeanor was immediate. The warmth in his eyes flickered out, replaced by something harder, colder. He set his mug down on the counter with a soft clink, his posture stiffening.
“What makes you think that?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm, but you could hear the edge beneath it. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.
“I’ve been good, haven’t I?”
Jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you, the tension between you palpable. He took a step closer, his presence imposing.
“You have,” he admitted, his voice low and measured. “But that doesn’t mean you’re ready to go back out there.”
You felt a pang of frustration, but you tried to keep your voice steady. “I need to feel normal again, Jungkook. I need to get out of here, to do something meaningful.”
His jaw tightened, and he reached out, gently but firmly taking the mug from your hands and setting it aside. His fingers lingered on your wrist for a moment, his touch both comforting and possessive. “This is meaningful,” he said, his voice softening just a fraction as he looked into your eyes. “Us, here, together. This is your life now, Y/N.”
“But..but you promised.” Jungkook's expression flickered, a brief moment of conflict passing through his eyes before his gaze hardened again. He took a deep breath, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly as he processed your words.
“I promised to keep you safe,” he said, his voice firm but with an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite identify—fear, perhaps, or desperation. "And letting you go back to work... it's not safe for you now, Y/N.”
You pulled your wrist free, taking a step back to create some distance. “I can’t stay cooped up in here forever, Jungkook,” you said, your voice trembling but determined. “I need to feel like myself again. I need to be around people, to do something other than just exist in this penthouse.”
He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his touch gentle but his eyes intense. “You are my life now,” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. “And I can’t lose you. Not to anything or anyone.” You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch despite the turmoil inside you. Jungkook’s thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine.
“Freedom comes with risks, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of love and possessiveness. “And I’m not sure I can handle those risks.”
“I promise I am not plotting, Gguk—” you began, but Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, his grip on your face tightening ever so slightly.
“Are you not?” he cut in, his voice low and dangerous. The hint of desperation from before was now replaced with a cold, steely resolve.
“Just give me a chance to prove—” His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of deceit.
“I don’t know if I can trust that, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice filled with an unsettling mix of love and possessiveness. He was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tight with tension. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his grip on your face softening.
“We have a family dinner coming up. It’s important, and everyone will be there. If you can behave, show that you can handle yourself around my family, then maybe... just maybe, we can talk about you going back to work.”
The implication of his words settled over you like a weight. This wasn’t just about proving yourself to him; it was about proving yourself to his entire family. The thought was daunting, but you knew this might be your only chance. To get away from his grasp.
“I'll do my best,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of determination and anxiety. “I promise.”
A small, almost tender smile tugged at the corners of Jungkook’s lips. “Good,” he said softly.
You swallowed hard, the pressure of the upcoming dinner weighing heavily on you. “Who will be there?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jungkook’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Everyone,” he said simply. “My parents, all of my Hyungs... among whom someone can offer you a position if you make a good impression.”
This was your chance, and you had to take it.
“I’ll be on my best behaviour,” you promised, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.
You stood there in Jungkook’s arms, the Christmas lights twinkling softly around you, you resolved to do whatever it took to reclaim a part of your life.
“Now, show me how good you can warm my cock this Christmas.”
.
.
.
.
.
𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧
©pennyellee. please do not repost
tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy (was unable to tag) - @mylyus-blog (was unable to tag) - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim - @doulcha - @sexytholland - @minyngrl-blog - @mizuumii (was unable to tag) @ali99eel - @loomipee @jkslvsnella - @tearykth - @iveivory - @lachimolalajeon - @mother2monsters - @junecat - @mayvalentine33 - @ttanniett - @elle0604 - @mageprincess7 - @laylasbunbunny - @ashthetic7 - @00frenchfries00 - @weareatthebadlands (was unable to tag) - @annafarrr -
Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥
see ya soon, love, p.
guys commenting part two without reblogging is really not the compliment you think it is haha
“spare me the details”
Pairing: matsukawa x fem!reader Genre: angst with a happy ending (i promise lmao), friends to lovers Summary: matsukawa is a good friend, which is why when you ask for his help figuring out what to wear for your date, he agrees without thinking much of it. but the longer he spends watching you get ready, the more he realizes how much he doesn’t want you to go. WC: 10,446 Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, lots of suggestive lines, and on top of it all they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) A/N: this fic happened because i wanted to write literally one scene of mattsun zipping up reader’s dress and now, 10k+ words later, we’re here :) also shoutout to luna for coming up with the fic title! <3 -Dawn
When you text Matsukawa right after his shift with a series of panicked voice notes and a string of siren emojis to match, he expects nothing short of a bug armageddon. He comes home fully prepared to find you standing on the kitchen counter, broom in hand as you frantically shout for him to get rid of whatever creepy crawling thing has invaded your home, the way he has on three separate occasions since the two of you moved in together.
Instead, when he arrives at your shared apartment, he finds you standing in the middle of your bedroom, heaps of fabric scattered across your mattress and pouring out from your closet. Thankfully, there’s no bug in sight, but you still look far from pleased, scowling at the floral-printed dress you’re holding as if it’s personally offended you.
Keep reading
Speak Easy Part 4
Bakugo x Reader, Dabi x Reader
Words : 5206
Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?
Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.
************************************************************************
Dabi’s frustration only grew when he saw your excited expression. All the sudden all he could think of was the was the way that Bakubrat had kissed the top of your head the last time he had seen you.
Dabi readjusted you so you were on his back and put his hands firmly on your thighs. He’ll admit he’s being ridiculous, but he wanted to keep you out of reach from the explosive idiot.
You were practically buzzing with excitement. You had missed your friends. Even though you had seen them a few weeks ago, it wasn’t nearly good enough, you felt like you didn’t have enough time to actually thank them for saving you. You had known all of them from high school except you had known Katsuki and Izuku much longer. You all had known each other since you were kids. Katsuki was always the one pulling your pigtails while Izuku was always the one to let you paint his fingernails.
That mentality pretty much stayed the same as you all got older. Katsuki would still relentlessly tease you but he was always much meaner to any of the guys who hit on you. There was a rumor that went around that your quirk made you super good in bed and it had every guy chasing after you for the wrong reasons. He never hesitated to hit first and ask questions later when men cat called you in his presence.
Katsuki had always had a very special place in your heart. He had always been your protector as well as your biggest supporter. There were so many times he and Izuku had talked you out of quitting school. Every so often an article would circulate about how villainous your quirk was and how you deserved to be locked up. The pressure would eventually get to you and you would end up in one of their rooms pacing and holding back tears. They helped you learn to love your quirk, but Katsuki was the one who secretly worked with you on weekends to help you get stronger. He thought if he showed you that you were more than just your quirk you would finally stop listening to all the fucking gossip blogs.
You kept bouncing with excitement the entire time Dabi walked towards the front door. He paused a few steps away and gave your thigh a sharp slap. “Hey, quit that. If you keep bouncing like that, I’m going to drop you. Behave.”
You wondered what crawled up his ass. He was just praising you a few minutes ago and now he’s grumpy. There’s no way he could be that mad about Katsuki coming to visit. He knew this was going to happen. He was holding you when Katsuki promised as much. You understood that he didn’t really get along with most people, and Katsuki was honestly kind of hard to get along with in the first place. But that still didn’t give him the right to be so pissed about him being here.
Dabi opened the door but remained in the doorway, effectively blocking Katsuki from entering. “Can we help you?”
Katsuki had a duffle bag on his shoulder as well as a box at his feet. “You could start by letting me in asshole.” He looked at you and his scowl softened just slightly, “Hey dork. Think you could convince your chauffeur to get out of the way?”
You giggled and gave Dabi’s neck a pinch. Dabi responded by giving your thigh a pinch, “Eye for an eye brat. You want me to let him in? I think I deserve an entrance fee?” He pointed towards his cheek as if he was asking for a kiss.
Katsuki’s eyes traveled from where Dabi’s hand was firmly squeezing your thigh to where he was pointing at his cheek. They were furious. He was about to just shove his was through when you wrapped your arms tight around Dabi’s neck and leaned backwards. Effectively throwing his body weight off and giving Katsuki more than enough room to enter the house.
He quickly let himself in and made his way over to the couch where he dumped the box he was holding. “Alright so here’s your first care package.”
“Don’t see why it needed to hand delivered…” Dabi dropped you on the couch next to the box so you could rummage through it.
Katsuki quickly took the empty spot next to you, totally ignoring Dabi. “I brought you a couple new manga that I know you’ll like, and I think Deku added a bunch of pictures and shit from your old apartment.” He reached over you into the box and pulled out a shirt and you grinned ear to ear. It was an old All Might shirt that you had stolen from Katsuki years ago because you liked how soft it was.
He smiled and put his arm around you, “I thought you might like that. I hope you don’t mind I’ve been wearing it in your absence. So, it might smell like me.”
Dabi walked by grabbing Katsuki’s arm and casually flung it off your shoulder. Then without a word started going through the box. “Did you remember the bathing suit?”
You could hear Katsuki’s palm’s crackle with irritation, “Yes… I did. But don’t get your pervy hopes up. I got the most conservative one I could find.” There he goes being overprotective for no reason… well that wasn’t exactly fair he did have a reason. He had just found you in the most horrendous condition possible and immediately had to hand you off to a former villain who kidnapped him in his youth… so yeah. You decided you were going to cut him some slack.
“Well considering it’s for her fucking rehabilitation…she could be naked for all I care. As long as she’s comfortable and gets those damn legs moving.” Dabi could feel his temper starting to get the better of him. Considering Bakugo was known for having the worlds shortest fuse, he needed to keep his cool. He could not be the one to snap first.
“Oi! Don’t act like carrying her around is such a burden!” Bakugo stood up now squaring off with Dabi.
Dabi’s eyes flared but his voice remained even, “I never said it was a burden… In fact, I love carrying her around. However, I don’t plan on making it a habit because I want her to get better.” His voice dipped and got angrier, “And don’t you talk about her as if she’s not sitting in the same room as us! She can speak for herself…”
He looked at you and you gave him a pointed look. ~Calm down please.~
He took a deep breath and signed back, ~Trying~
Katsuki looked between the two of you with narrowed eyes, “When did you guys learn sign language?”
Dabi walked into the kitchen and started making dinner. If Bakugo wanted to make a house call, he needed to let him have his fun. He’d be leaving soon enough, he just needed to let the two of you be until then. “We started learning a couple weeks ago.” He pulled out two bowls because that’s how passive aggressive he is. If that asshat didn’t get the hint by the time dinner was ready, then he’d just have to sit there and watch you eat.
Dabi had to stop for a moment and contemplate this. Why was he this mad? Why did he actually care this much? You were obviously going to be close with the loudmouth. You’d known him for a long time. He needed to remember that just because you lived with him now doesn’t mean that you even want to be here. For all he knows you’re just tolerating him because you have to. It’s not like the two of you have lots of late-night conversations.
He looked over when he realized it had been pretty quiet and saw that the two of you were speaking in sign. His hands on yours helping you with a new word. “Okay so obviously you know sign too.”
Katsuki had a shit eating grin. “The doctors told my mom when I was young, I’d eventually go deaf due to my quirk. I’m basically fluent.” He continued to sit and teach you new words and damn if you weren’t happier than he had seen in the past two weeks.
Dabi rolled his eyes as he went back to making dinner. “Go ahead and teach her whatever you want. Be fucking useful for once.” Dabi continued to make dinner, shoulders tensing every time he heard you giggle.
Katsuki had his phone out and was showing you everything you had missed. “Okay so surprise, surprise, Deku and IcyHot are like a thing now.” He showed a couple cute pictures from Izuku’s private Instagram. The last one was of them kissing under an umbrella. “Kiri and Mina had a kid. Little rascal is probably about six months old now. He’s cute but his teeth hurt like hell.” He picked up his hand that had a tiny crescent shaped scar, which had you absolutely grinning.
He ruffled your hair, “Oi, you won’t be smiling when the brat bites you next.” He continued to scroll, “OH! I almost forgot the best part.” He turned his phone to you and showed you a picture of someone’s mug shot. “Fucking grape juice got arrested.”
Your eyes widened. You waited for him to go one when you realized he was waiting on you. He was giving you an opportunity to contribute to the conversation. ~Why?~
“Trying to buy a prostitute… Literally no one was surprised.” He looked back to the kitchen to make sure Dabi wasn’t listening. When he was satisfied, he pulled you closer into his side and threw his arm around you. “Hey, you would let me know if he was mistreating you right?” His fingers carded through your hair and his eyes roamed all your visible skin for signs of abuse.
You nodded your head and pulled your shirt further down, suddenly aware that you weren’t wearing pants. You had just gotten so used to it you had forgotten. He noticed you fidgeting, “He hasn’t touched you, has he? Because I swear to God I’ll rip out every single staple in his body then make him eat them.”
You leaned further into his to side to hide your blush. He most certainly had touched you. And you still hadn’t worked out how you felt about it. He hadn’t made any attempt to do it again beyond the casual touches when he carried you or when he helped you in the pool. He had made it a habit of sleeping in your room, but he always stayed on his side of the bed.
Katsuki must have taken your lack of response as a confirmation. “I’m going to kill him.”
You sat up straight and started shaking your head, ~No. No. Wrong~
“Wrong? So, he hasn’t touched you then?”
You gulped. Either way you answered was bad. You either told him the truth and he rage killed Dabi, or you lied to your best friend… Either way you were fucked.
As you struggled for an answer Dabi walked in and handed you your bowl of curry and rice. “Don’t worry I’ll answer that one for you, and stop at me at any point you think I got it wrong.” He took his seat in a recliner and took a bite of his meal. “So, we had a moment where something could have happened, but we stopped before it got too far and decided we were just being emotional and moved on.”
Katsuki’s hand started to heat up and crackled but you pulled on his arm to get his attention, ~Right~
He still looked angry, and maybe even a little hurt, which had you all confused again. He looked like he wanted to throw one of his famous temper tantrums. You knew how much it was killing him to not pounce on Dabi, “Keep your disgusting hands to yourself from now on. She’s been through enough. She doesn’t need you taking advantage of her!”
“You don’t speak for her!”
You clapped your hands to get their attention, ~Enough~ You gave each of them a glare and it was silent after that.
You took a bite of your dinner to avoid Katsuki’s eyes and was met with the most delicious meal Dabi had made to date. You cleared your throat to get Dabi’s attention. You pointed to Katsuki then your bowl of food and signed ~where~?
“I didn’t think a busy hero like him would have time to stick around for dinner.” He continued to pick at his food, “Speaking of which. It’s getting late. Hate to keep you from your super important work of dress up and make believe.”
Katsuki gestured to the duffle bag he carried in. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere tonight.” He was looking at you now. A look of concern ghosted across his face. “Consider it a wellness check.” He leaned forward and gave the side of your head a soft peck, “I just want to be sure you’re okay. I promised you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you and I intend to keep that promise.”
You felt yourself sinking into his familiar warmth. If there was anyone who felt like home, it was Katsuki. Sure, he was in the middle of a ridiculous pissing contest with Dabi at the moment, but you really couldn’t blame him. He’d always been a stubborn, territorial, asshole. But he was also kind he cared about you and for that you could forgive him.
“Whatever, just don’t get in the way of our routine.” Dabi stood up with his now empty bowl. “You know that law, eat every last bite. I’ll get your bath started while you finish.” He looked at Katsuki, “You can have my room… I’ll sleep on the couch.”
He didn’t even wait for a response as he left the two of you alone.
Katsuki visibly relaxed into the couch once Dabi had left the room. “What did he mean by law?”
You smiled as you pulled out your journal and opened it up for him. You pointed to law number seven. At first, he was pissed that Dabi would give you a new set of rules to live by, like you were some kid. But then he realized there wasn’t a single “law” on here that didn’t have your best interest in mind.
His eyes scanned over the rest. Chuckling at some silly laws like ‘Wake up whenever the hell you want’, and ‘No fucking shrugging.’ He had to admit that he also hated it when you would do that. It wasn’t that you were indecisive. It was that you knew what you wanted but you never wanted to speak up for yourself. Always willing to bend over backwards to make others happy. Never wanting to give anyone any more reason to dislike you.
His heart hurt at the laws that said things like, ‘No drugs’, ‘No locked doors’, and ‘Never say sorry for something that isn’t your fault.’
The law that had his blood boiling however was the last one, law number thirteen. ‘I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.’ He furiously flipped through the pages that came after, trying to get the idea of you ever giving Dabi consent to touch you out of his mind.
You had finished your food by now and stretched your muscles out. All in all, this had been a great day. You walked on your own in the pool AND Katsuki had come to visit. You were so tired you just knew you would fall asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. Hopefully you wouldn’t have any nightmares.
You put your hand on Katsuki’s shoulder and used it to push yourself to your feet. You wobbled for a few seconds but otherwise kept your footing.
“Hey look at you! I thought you’d be too tired after what we did in the pool today, good job.” You looked up to see Dabi leaning in the hallway. “Your bath is ready. One for me, two for blondie.”
Katsuki scrunched his nose up, “Wha-“
You held up two fingers and Dabi nodded. “Alright looks like you get bath time duty today.” Dabi smirked when Katsuki’s eyes widened. “Don’t freak out. She’s gotten to the point where she can get in on her own and some days she can even get out too. You just need to hang out by the door in case she needs help.
You wound your arms around Katsuki’s neck, and he picked you up. His heart pounded as he followed Dabi to what he assumed was your room. He leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Hey wouldn’t be the first time we bathed together.”
You giggled and hit his shoulder. You knew he meant when you were kids. But you couldn’t stop the blush that took over you at the thought of him just hopping in the tub with you now.
Dabi tensed up as he stopped at the door to your room. “Alright… y/n you know the drill if you need me just yell.” He winked at you after his stupid joke and you flipped him off.
He walked back to the kitchen and opened his laptop. He started to go over tomorrow’s sign language lesson early. He’d never tell you this, but he does this every day. You were so much better at picking it up then him, he needed to do extra work just to keep up.
You signed ~Thank you~ as Katsuki placed you down next to the full tub.
“Okay… so I guess you just let me know if you need me by…?”
You shrugged as you knocked on the side of the tub. Part of you really didn’t want him to leave, even if it was only for a few minutes. You reached out and grabbed his wrist.
He gave you a curious look, but softened when you signed back, ~Stay~
“Does he usually stay?”
You shook your head, Dabi always insisted he had things to do and it was important you do some things on your own.
Katsuki took a seat on the floor with his back against the tub. Even with permission he was determined to protect your modesty. You slipped your clothes off and quickly lifted your legs into the tub. It was almost too easy now and you smiled at your progress.
You sighed as the water warmed your skin. Your hand reached for Katsuki’s and gave it a squeeze. You could see the tension in his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back before intertwining your fingers.
“Y/n… I -I know I’ve already said I’m sorry. But I still have this mountain of guilt sitting on my chest. You were… are… one of the most important people in my life. And I was so wrapped up in my own life I didn’t see the signs. I didn’t notice that something was wrong.” You could hear his voice crack as he tried to hold his emotions down. “I knew you went on secret missions that you couldn’t always talk about. I watched as you came back looking defeated and… and broken. I thought there was something going on, but I just kept reminding myself you worked with heroes… that I was just being paranoid.”
You felt tears build in your eyes and you were glad he wasn’t looking at you. You rubbed circles on his hand with your thumb encouraging him to keep going. He obviously had a lot he had been bottling up. “You know Deku and I went to your agency one day after you had been gone for a few months and all they told us was your mission was confidential, and we weren’t related to you so they couldn’t even tell us if you were okay.” He sniffled, “I went there every day after work and got the same bull shit answer. It drove me crazy.”
He took a deep breath to settle himself, “So we started asking about you. Started looking for you in all the underground trading routes.” A long silence followed as he got lost in the memories of looking for you. “It almost took us a year, but we finally found someone who had seen you. Some small-time villain whose quirk was invisibility. He had snuck into your agency to try and break his boss out. But when he found him you were also in the room…”
He didn’t keep going, and for that you were grateful because you didn’t want to hear it. You knew what came next and you didn’t exactly want to relive it.
“I’m so sorry. I failed you. I was supposed to protect you. I promised you I’d be by your side forever, and I-I-“
You pulled his hand towards you and gave it a kiss before putting his palm on your cheek. He hesitantly turned and looked at you with tears in his eyes. You activated your quirk and washed over him with feelings of love and understanding. You watched his eyes close as he shuttered. You may not be able to speak, but you could still communicate to him through feeling that you were okay.
You reached over and brushed a stray tear away and pulled him close to plant a kiss on his forehead.
When your bath was over, he waited for you to wrap yourself in a towel before picking you up and depositing you gently on your bed. You pulled the All Might shirt he had brought with him over your head, and crawled under the covers.
He had only wanted to lay there until you fell asleep, but he ended up falling asleep soon after you.
Dabi walked in hoping to tell you goodnight but found the two of you asleep facing each other. You under the covers, Bakugo on top of the covers. Your hands stretched out towards each other as if looking for each other even in sleep.
Dabi’s hands were glowing with livid flames as he left in a hurry.
He went straight to the abandoned cabinet that held all of the now off-limits drugs. He could take just one… you would never know.
He growled as he shoved the bottle back into the cabinet and slammed the door. Reaching instead for a bottle of whiskey. He went to the couch and poured himself a drink.
And that’s how you and Bakugo found him the next day. Passed out on the couch empty whisky bottle on the floor next to him.
Dabi chugged his coffee as his head pounded. He was no stranger to hangovers, but ever since you came to live with him, he hadn’t felt the need to drink that much. At one point in his life it had been the only way he could get any decent sleep.
He watched from his seat at the kitchen island as you and Bakugo made breakfast. The smell of bacon hit him and his stomach growled. Shit.
You could see his sour expression and when Bakugo wasn’t looking you stood from the chair you were sitting in. Dabi kept his eyes on you like a hawk. Watching for any signs you might fall. You stumbled but he remained still. He knew you were okay. The Island was right there if you needed to hold on to it. You were only a few steps away from him now. Arms stretched out and a smile on your face.
You knew this would cheer him up, and get him out of whatever shitty mood he was in. Only one more step and you’d be there. To this Dabi stood up and took a step away from you with a playful look in his eye as if to say come and get me.
Bakugo continued to talk, not even noticing you weren’t sitting behind him anymore. It wasn’t until the loud thud of you hitting the tile floor that he looked up. He immediately rushed to you while Dabi laughed.
“Why the fuck are you laughing? She could be hurt!”
Dabi just continued to laugh, “I’m laughing because it’s fucking funny. She’s fine.” He titled his head to the side. “You’re a tough cookie aren’t yeah y/n?”
You giggled and nodded. Dabi took you from Bakugo’s embrace “See she’s fine. I think you need to remember she used to be a pro hero. I think she can handle tripping over her own feet.” He stood up and sat you down in front of the laptop.
“Okay time to learn some sign language, looks like today’s all about food. Oh good, you love food.” He ruffled your hair before picking a piece of bacon off of your plate and biting into it.
The little back and forth continued the entire day. The biggest argument came later when it was time for the pool. You groaned and decided you weren’t in the mood. ~No pool~
Dabi rolled his eyes at you, “Yes pool. You even have a bathing suit this time. So, get your ass in gear.”
You crossed your arms over your chest in defiance. “Listen here brat. It’s the law. We work on getting your strength back every single day. No negotiations.”
Bakugo didn’t like the tone Dabi was talking to you in. “Oi, she’s not some puppet for you to boss around. She said she doesn’t want to so that’s it. Back off!”
Dabi’s eyes flared with anger, “You don’t have a fucking say in this. This is between me and her.” He looked at you again, “If you had asked nicely, I might have let this go. Just because we have a guest doesn’t mean you can disregard the laws and neglect the routine. Now be a good girl and let’s go put your bathing suit on.”
Bakugo stepped between you and Dabi, “Be a good girl? What the fuck is your problem. You don’t own her.”
Dabi pinched the bridge of his nose trying to remind himself why he can’t just fight the obnoxious asshole in font of him. “I don’t own her, but I also refuse to sit here and watch her wither away. We have laws to make her better, and I refuse to deviate. It’s clear I take her recovery more seriously than you do.”
Bakugo shoved Dabi back, “The fuck you do! This isn’t some rehab she checked into. You have no right to boss her around! What makes you think you know what’s best for her?”
Dabi was practically screaming now, “Because I’ve fucking been in her shoes, you ignorant ticking time bomb!” His chest was heaving now, “Did you ever wonder why I had to fake my own death just to get away from my own father… who was a fucking HERO! I’ve been poked and prodded and pushed past my limits. Except I didn’t have someone there to help me and I ended up in the League. Depressed, blood thirty, and hell bent on getting revenge on the so-called heroes that were so okay with a little boy practically killing himself every day just to produce the next number one.”
To this Bakugo didn’t have an answer. He’s heard Todoroki’s horror stories. He could only imagine what Endeavor had put Dabi through.
Dabi looked at you know eyes still furious, “I’ll make you a deal y/n. You put on quite the show this morning taking a few steps on your own. No matter how mad I am, I’ll never tell you that wasn’t a good job. But now you want to skip the very thing that allowed you to take those steps.” He walked out of the kitchen and took a seat in his recliner. “Make it over to me right now, with no help and we can skip the pool.”
With a determined scowl you pushed yourself out of your seat. Bakugo went to grab you “Y/n you don’t have to do-“
“Yes! She does, now let her do it. She needs this. Y/n you can do this. Now prove it to me and prove it to yourself.”
You took your first step, determination written all over you face. Step followed step and you had already walked further than you had this morning, but you were only about halfway there.
Dabi’s eyes were patient and his voice was calm. “Come on y/n. You can do this. You aren’t broken. There is nothing wrong with you. Just keep walking.”
You could feel the tension in the room stiffen. Bakugo watched you with his hands out as if to catch you, always your protector, always your safety net. But you didn’t need that right now.
Your knees started to wobble and buckle, and involuntary whine left your lip as you went down to one knee.
“Come on you can’t give up now. You’re doing such a good job. Now push yourself back up. I’m right here. Come on. Push harder!”
You felt a tear streak down your cheek as you tried to push yourself up but only ended up on the ground.
Bakugo was at your side in an instant but you pushed him away.
“That’s right y/n you can do this. I believe in you. I don’t care if you have to crawl. You’re so close.” You pulled yourself up enough to crawl across the rough carpet. You got up to your knees then slowly you stood.
Dabi saw the fire in your eyes and it sent a shiver down his spine. You were going to do this even if it killed you. It made him think about what you would look like in battle. If you looked even half as gritty as you do now he had no doubt you had strong men cowering at your feet. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he gave that back to you. That power, that strength, that untamable will, he knew was somewhere inside you laying dormant.
He got out of his recliner and lowered himself to the ground, “Come on your so close now. Keep going Y/N!”
With one last push you practically jumped into his arms and collapsed. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but for the first time since coming here they were happy tears. You did it. You walked all on your own.
He cooed into your hair as he rocked you back and forth, “You did such a good job. You did it. I knew you could. You can rest now. I’ll get you some ice cream. How does that sound. We’ll celebrate.”
You nodded as you clutched Dabi’s shirt.
Bakugo disappeared for a few minutes and when he came back he had his bag over his shoulder. He kneeled down next to you and pressed his forehead to yours. “I think it’s time I got back to work. I still need to take down the bastards that did this to you.” He smoothed his fingers through your hair and looked to Dabi, “I think you’re in good hands.”
He made his way to the door, “I’ll be back soon.”
*****************
Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime@klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need
his redemption
synopsis ⤸
after unknowingly moving in next door to a renown gang-leader, you are thrust into a foreign world tainted by the scars of his past. will you be able to help him redeem his sins before they finally catch up to him?
chapters ⤸
one | 5.1k
themes ⤸
fem! reader, 18+, dark fic, gang au, gang-leader! bakugo, doctor! reader, one night stands, friends with benefits, unrequited feelings, mutual pining, smut, graphic depictions of violence, kidnappings, mentions of blood, dubcon
reblogs are appreciated ~
© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.
wicked • 19
↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?
↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader
↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut
Word Count: 13k
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tags: vaginal fingering, tiddy sucking (jk is definitely a boobs man), semi public sex??, oral (f), so many petnames, dom!kook, brief masturbation (m), multiple orgasms, size kink, multiple positions, cowgirl, creampies, slight somnophilia? (they keep having sex when they're both extremely exhausted), spooning turned to doggy, some very filthy talk, corruption kink, semi degradation kink, the word seed is used once and I actually hate it, some sweet, sweet aftercare, pillow talk, grinding, cumplay, brief handjob (m), edging, cockwarming, they're so in love your honor
Note: people will be shocked at how fast this update has come out and honestly ?? so am I, but tbf half of it is smut so...iykyk ALSO if you haven't checked out the playlist for wicked, you totally should!!
After the first snowfall, winter had come rolling in with no sign of stopping and just as Jungkook had once said, Penumbra was now buried in snow.
There was something so captivating about the snow, its crisp frosty delicate nature, how despite the sun being covered in clouds, the snow reflected off the light and made everything so much brighter.
The land was so desolate and yet so full at the same time, it left a deep yearning in you for the warmth, but in an oddly fulfilling way, it let you rest deeper at night, taking in the great vastness of the land and its minimalism.
The morning had been busy just as each morning before had been so, Yule was only a week away and the court had many aristocrats staying at the castle making merry. It was such a celebratory time and yet you still felt like a ghost better left in the past.
Your days were not all horrible, but the constant numbness never fully went away, at one time you had wanted to go to Yule in Kimhae to reunite with your parents, but the idea of leaving somehow filled you with as much anxiety as staying.
“Well? What’s on your mind?” Jungkook finally spoke, not looking up from his work book, making sure the last of his bill signs, contracts carefully written out and correspondence dealt with so he wouldn’t be behind on his work when you both made your return.
You had been admittedly antsy, tidying up your bedroom, packing what few trinkets you thought you might want during the nights of your journey, fiddling with your own work and where to put what.
You simply couldn’t sit still.
You didn’t reply for a long moment causing Jungkook to look up from his desk, blue eyes appearing from those dark thick locks of hair.
Sighing you shifted as you set your book against the bed, “…You’ll be mad at me.”
“Well you don’t know until you tell me.” Jungkook didn’t seem worried.
You glanced away once more as Jungkook stood up, rounding his desk to walk over to you, “…What if I was having second thoughts…About going to Kimhae?”
Jungkook curved a brow, “The morning we depart for our trip?”
“Don’t say it like that!” You pouted with an usher.
“Is it really the trip? Or is it something else?” Jungkook replied, brushing off your pout.
Your pout however only furthered because you didn’t have an answer, “I don’t know…I just…this is the first time we’ll be making a public appearance outside of Penumbra since our wedding.”
“And what about it?” Jungkook shifted, crossing his arms, still not understanding what your problem was and truth be told you wish you had a better answer for him.
“Does that not make you anxious? It makes me incredibly anxious.” You frowned, wringing your hands together, you were anxious about everything truthfully, but the idea of making your first appearance in nearly a year, well…You didn’t know what to expect.
But then again, Penumbra had prepared you for pretty much everything at this point, there weren't too many boxes left to check off on life events at this point.
“Why would I be?” Jungkook cocked his head to the side, “I’ve nothing to hide nor prove to anyone…If you’re anxious simply because, then it’s understandable,” Jungkook reached out to you, brushing his palm over your cheek before it crept down to your neck, “A lot has happened, I think it’s only natural. But I also know you’ve been looking forward to seeing your parents for the majority of your stay here, it would be imprudent of me to let you cancel our trip at the last minute.”
Your lips quivered a little, “Even if I’m terrified? What if something happens?”
Jungkook’s lips curled into a little smile, his fingers curling around your neck, not squeezing, but in a loving hold you had grown so acquainted too, “Then I will be there to stop it from happening,” Jungkook’s forehead pressed down against yours, “I know you’ll regret not going more then if you do.”
Your eyes fluttered shut before you leaned over to bury your face into the crook of his neck, Jungkook’s arms wrapping around you tight as you murmured, “I hope you’re right.” curling your arms around his waist as you let yourself become engulfed in his warmth and letting it swallow all of your consuming thoughts.
It stayed like this for a long minute before Jungkook slowly pulled away, looking down at you as he spoke, “I have something I wanted to give you.”
You pulled away from him more to get a better look at him, tilting your head in curiosity, “A gift…?”
Jungkook snorted, “Something like that. I wasn’t sure if it would be finished in time, but Jimin managed to get it to me last night.” He let go of you before walking over to the bed, leaning down as he pulled down out from underneath.
You tilted your head at the thick cloth cover as Jungkook stood up, holding it out to you. It was long and thin but held a considerable weight to it, not too heavy, but just enough to let you know it was of incredible quality.
He nodded at you as a gesture to pull whatever was inside out, opening the draw strings. The first thing you saw was the bright silver crest of a pommel, pulling it out further was a soft leather hand and pulling it all the way out revealed a shortsword around twenty three inches.
You couldn’t help but let your lips part at just how beautiful it was though, the metal was reflective and the detailing along the fuller, the blade was double edged and as your eyes traveled back to the handle you noticed a sort of…language? Written down the grip.
“It’s the first of its kind,” Jungkook finally spoke, “Noxtria melted with Quicksilver for a lightweight balanced sword but sharp enough to cut through thick metal. Godslayer is it’s name.”
“Godslayer?” You looked up at him.
“The idea behind this blade was that it would be lighter than air, but have the strength to kill a god. I couldn’t think of a better person to hold the first blade of its kind than my own wife. We’ve been working on your swordsmanship for a long time now and I think it’s time you carry your own sword.” Jungkook nodded, a sort of pride in his eyes as he watched you weigh it, giving it a whirl in your hand.
The training you had done had definitely made you physically stronger, as while the blade had weight, it wasn’t taxing to hold, “I want you to never feel defenseless by my side, we’re partners and equals and while I hope it never again comes to you needing to use this, I want you to have it if the occasion were to ever arise.”
You were speechless as you stared at the blade, a reflection of yourself in its metal staring back at you, lowering it you whispered, “Thank you, Jungkook.”
A small smile pulled on his lips, “Anything for my little sun.” His fingers traced down your cheek, “The case for it is still in the cover, here I’ll help you with putting on the harness.”
Jungkook took the cloth covering off it to reveal the heavy black sheath and the harness that it attached too, Jungkook had carefully pulled it around your hip, adjusting it until it was snug against your skin, it felt weird having such a thing attached to your body now.
But there was something oddly…safe about it, as Jungkook said, this was a safety measure and it made you feel as such, you could only hope you would never have to take another soul but….Your fingers unconsciously lifted, rubbing over the spot on your chest, now scarred from where Di Jin had attempted to kill you.
Jungkook as if knowing what you were thinking tenderly grabbed your hand pulling it away, “It’s difficult to see it now but…” He paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts, “I think…if I could go back and change things I would, in a heartbeat. But I do think it happened for a reason.”
Your lips trembled softly, “How could killing someone happen for a reason?”
“It made a spectacle for one,” Jungkook replied, a certain soft note in his voice was his hand found its way back to your neck, “Those who doubted your ability to hold your own in the court will never question it again. Your words have always had bite, but now you have proof behind them.”
You shook your head, “I don’t see eye to eye with you on this Jungkook.”
“I know you don’t,” Jungkook replied, his thumb soothingly rubbing into your skin, “And I wouldn’t expect anything less, but your respect in the court is much more now than it ever was before. Not only this but…”
Jungkook paused for a long moment gathering his thoughts, “Knowing you have the capability to defend yourself…there will be times when we will have no choice but to be apart,” He sighed, “I will eventually have to lead projects that take me away from Penumbra, knowing you have the means to take care of yourself puts me at ease.”
“I don’t want you to be apart from me.” You mumbled, anxiety at the thought immediately quelling.
Jungkook let out an amused breath, “That’s not something to worry about now, one thing at a time. If you have the rest of your things settled, we should head down, the sooner we get on the road the sooner we’ll arrive, and the sooner you’ll feel better.”
“...I suppose.” You mumbled, but Jungkook was not feeding into your pouty expression, no matter how much it was his weakness, he grabbed your thick cloak which had laid abandoned on the bed, wrapping it over your shoulders as he buckled it up, grabbing his own to carry as he held out his arm for you.
Letting him guide you down you ignored the stares of a group of court ladies staring you down, perhaps in wariness, perhaps because the court had easily taken notice of how close you and Jungkook had become in the last few weeks.
The consummation of your marriage hadn’t actually changed anything, but Jungkook’s confession of love had really done a number on you both, and every time those sweet words left his lips you had the intention of saying it back.
And yet every time it felt like the word got stuck in your throat unable to escape, perhaps it was because you were still scared, still in disbelief that Jungkook loved you, but all of his actions, his words, even the way he looked at you, it all screamed love.
Being met with snow on the ground, crunching beneath your feet you let out a breath that you could visibly see, a sensation you still weren’t quite used to, it was freezing cold and the journey would be very long.
Jungkook had spared no expense to keep you wrapped in very thick layers in hopes that it would keep you warm, but it seemed no matter the amount, you were always cold.
“Wheein is doing her last rounds of gathering items, she should be out shortly,” Taehyun called out, finishing fixing up your horse’s saddle, Jungkook walked up with you before helping you on and making sure you were situated before saddling his own horse.
“Snow isn’t too deep yet, we should make a timely arrival,” Yoongi called out, trotting on his own horse up the path ahead before stopping next to Jungkook, “If we make it with not much snowfall, it should only take four days.”
Your lip curled a little at the estimate, you knew Kimhae was further away then Eunoia, but you had been used to only a day’s travel when you were in Eunoia, they lived further West then Eunoia and a little further south.
The climate in the West however made it incredibly dry, the further you traveled the less snow there would be, hopefully at least.
Once Wheein had finished her last round of gathering any last minute packing she had come out with a few guards help and finished loading the pack horses and then mounted her own. It wasn't too big of an entourage of servants, but you had two of Yoongi’s men, himself and of course your two personal servants to attend you both.
You were nervous for many reasons, showing your face to the outside world, you weren’t sure what reaction you would gain, knowing how the truth of Penumbra had been twisted beyond recognition, you could distinctly remember all the dread you had for two years of being engaged to Jungkook.
Words that he had abused women in many ways, that he starved all of his servants and that he’d beat them if they disobeyed, rumors swirling that he already had multiple wives and you would be another trophy in his collection, some rumors even going as far as to say he had his dead enemies taken to the castle so he could bath in their blood.
The list went on and on and every single one was just a rumor, nothing more than foolish lies spread to cause more fear, Jungkook was not a single thing he had ever been stated as, wicked least of all.
But you were now nervous because you had seen both sides, the truth and lies both, and you couldn’t help but wonder what rumors had escaped Penumbra about you? Dread filled you once more, what twisted way could the world turn your murder of Di Jin even worse?
That you feasted on his corpse?
You could briefly taste the raw iron in your mouth that had you holding back a gag, Jungkook’s sharp gaze that had been looking ahead immediately on you, “What’s wrong?”
You held your hand on your mouth trying desperately hard to not let the memory suck you back into the past, flashes of blood in your mind, cartilage mixed with skin, the raw smell of blood, “Water, can I have some water.” You forced the words out.
Jungkook wordlessly pulled the water satchel from the side of his saddle, handing it to you, “You’re thinking.”
You took a large swallow and slowly the faint taste faded back into the nothingness it came from, you shook your head handing it back to him, “I’m trying not too.”
“You’re not doing a good job of it,” Jungkook replied, making you give him a look, he laughed a little though you spot the concern in his eyes, “Would talking about it make you feel better?”
You sighed as you shook your head, “I think i’d rather talk about something else,” Lingering on your thoughts would only serve to possibly bring memories even more vivid back, “You’ve been to Kimhae right Jungkook?”
Jungkook guided his horse a little closer to yours so you’d be able to converse better, “It’s been a long time. We visited when they hosted the War Council. I was…maybe seventeen? This was just in the beginning of negotiating,” Jungkook hummed as he thought about it, “Kimhae was dull in my opinion, they lacked conviction and were very obvious in the fact that they didn’t respect Penumbra or the Jeon name.”
You listened to him before you let out a laugh gaining his attention, “I remember this quite well, I was visiting Seokjin at the time. I remember spotting you and your father arriving out my window but you were too far for me to get a good look. I remember him complaining though. Telling me you had this haughty look about you, acting as if you were better than him.”
Jungkook scoffed, “I was better than him. I am still better than him. If you were present at the time though…Why had I not seen you?” He looked a bit confused, as obviously women weren’t allowed in the War Room but that didn’t mean they were prohibited anywhere else, he had stayed a full fortnite at Kimhae that trip and not once had he seen you.
“I made myself unknown on purpose,” You replied, a small frown tugging on your lips, “It was at Seokjin’s insistence of course, he didn’t want you near me with the potential to ‘corrupt me’, as he said.”
“Corrupt you?” Jungkook scoffed, almost offended, “If we had met properly before our engagement, I feel we could’ve been cordial. Come to think of it I do remember talk of the Eunoian Princess, being in court,” Jungkook’s gaze became pensive as his brows pinched together, “I remember Seokjin gloating about how the fairest princess warmed his bed at night and that he loved nothing more then his name screamed in pleasure.”
You blinked multiple times before your gaze shot to Jungkook, “This was in reference to me?”
You had known Jungkook long enough now to tell he was absolutely wrought with anger at just the idea, his knuckles tight on the reigns of his horse as he stared ahead, “Mhm. I once told you that we saw him differently, that’s one of the many reasons why. He loved to peacock around gloating about sleeping with you.”
“Sleeping with me!?” Your mouth parted in somewhat disbelief, “We…” You couldn’t help but let out a scoffed laugh, he had been pressuring you for some time, but you never realized just how desperate he was to go out of his way to lie to other men that you both had slept with one another in such a way.
And then the embarrassment began to flood in, was this why so many men in his court assumed you were loose, or that you were an easy woman?
“Well I can promise you he was nothing more than a liar,” You let out another laugh as you shook your head, “Screaming his name in pleasure…The only name that was ushered was my own and even then that was on a lucky day.”
“Your name!?” Jungkook sucked in a harsh breath of air.
You paused, suddenly realizing what you had just said, and then looking around, there was a good distance between Yoongi up ahead with his fellow guards and Wheein and Taehyun were conversing further behind, Fenrir having walked alongside you awhile now.
“So Seokjin has gotten to experience that sort of intimacy from you.” Jungkook pressed his tongue into his cheek as if this was the worst news he could ever receive.
“It’s not…” You sighed, trying to find the right words, you had never really planned on mentioning what little intimacy you shared with Seokjin, as it wasn’t relevant to your current relationship and truthfully, there wasn’t much to talk about, “I’ve…When we first started to explore an intimate relationship together, you remember me being frightened by it, yes?”
Jungkook tilted his head, a little confused as to where this was going but nodded regardless.
“The same could be said for back then- especially back then,” You explained as you lowered your voice a little, “I was nervous to lose my virginity, Seokjin already didn’t like my traditional Eunoian attire, but even moreso it had him acting out, trying to pressure me into giving myself to him. But I could never commit to it. The idea of him leaving me after I gave it too him made me too anxious…And..”
You sighed as you glanced down at the snowy earth, “I hated feeling like nothing more than a sexual fantasy for him. Looking back, it feels as if that was all I ever provided, some sort of exotic fantasy that he could escape to in Eunoia, never truly a person, a soul, just something to make him aroused and fulfilled. And so to keep him satiated but also withhold my own boundary, I offered to pleasure him,” You pressed your lips together, your nose wrinkling, “It wasn’t very often, nor was it very pleasant but well…It kept things from escalating beyond my control.”
Jungkook’s jaw only clenched, “How different things would’ve been if we had met that week. Perhaps you could have been saved from all that trouble.”
“Things happened the way they did though,” You offered a weak smile, “It’s not something I ever think about anymore, after all, it feels so long ago despite being so recent. And I’m very content now.”
You reached out to grab his hand as your smile brightened, “I’m happy I saved myself for the right person. I couldn’t imagine it with anyone else.”
This seemed to soothe Jungkook in the right way, “Well when you say it like that it makes me think you’ll want extra help to keep warm tonight.”
“Jungkook!” You smacked his shoulder, “What an indecent thing to suggest, in a tent? In the middle of a journey?”
Jungkook chuckled as he gripped his reins in contentment, “No better time than the present princess.”
You only shook your head, the hours seemed to go quick as you and Jungkook had talked about this and that, and then a content silence took over as the sky darkened and Yoongi had begun to look for a suitable spot to make camp.
They had managed to find a spot off road closer to the woods where the cold wind was blocked and snow wasn’t as deep, clearing off the snow before getting fresh cut wood to get a fire going, setting up tents didn’t take very long.
Soon dinner was cooking over the fire, granted you had already eaten an abundant mix of packed cabbage and vegetables tossed together and despite being tired and hungry Jungkook was still easily fending you off as metal clashed together.
“You’ll need to try harder than that princess,” Jungkook whirled the sword in his hand as you huffed a breath, stretching your aching arms, “If you were to fight an opponent far more skilled than you in battle what would your tactic be?”
“Run?” You raised your brows, Jungkook seemed to enjoy asking hypothetical questions that you were certain would never happen.
“Okay but in this scenario you do, what would you do?” He pressed, giving you a moment to regather yourself.
“Well it depends, if they’re aggressive, which I assume they would be, it’s not difficult to size my lack of experience up in comparison to someone like you, I’d have no choice but to defend until they burn down their energy and then once they tire out I’d make a chance to strike.” You sighed as you lifted your sword back up.
“Yes that would be the logical way to go about it,” Jungkook hummed, “Contextually speaking. But there are other ways, you can use your environment to assist you, you could also have another ally help or use your size to your advantage. Being smaller means being quicker. Again.”
You both tapped swords before sparring once more, Jungkook easily more aggressive this time causing you to back step until you back stepped right into the deeper snow causing you to yelp, whining out at the freezing damp sensation seeping through your dress into your skin.
“That’s not what I meant when I said use the environment.” Jungkook sighed as he rested the flat of the blade on his shoulder.
You managed to step out back onto the shallow end as you whined out, “I am perfectly aware of what you meant! I’m trying! I just can’t seem to get it…” You let out a defeated sigh as a tremor jolted through your body at catching the cold nip of breeze.
Jungkook only shook his head somewhat amused, “How about we rest for the evening and get you close to the fire once more.” His hand curling around your waist as you both walked back to camp, “You shouldn’t have such high expectations of yourself, I’ve been training since I was a child, you’ve come a long way for only training the last six months.”
“Sparring is also different then a real duel or battle,” Yoongi spoke, as he had been watching you both the last hour in amusement, “If you’re already doing this good in a spar, you’ll be able to hold your own perfectly fine in either.”
“This is also true,” Jungkook yawned as he sat down on the large mat, offering a hand to you to help you down, “The adrenaline is different, when it comes to life or death, you fight with more than your all, more than you could ever muster for a spar, even a duel.”
“I just hope it never comes to that.” You sighed with a shiver, scooting closer to the warmth of the fire.
“What matters is that you’ll be ready m’lady.” Wheein offered a kind smile as she continued, “And I agree with his Highness, you’ve improved significantly compared to when you first started, it’s something to take pride in, you’ll only improve with time.”
“The chances are slim but it never hurts to be prepared,” Yoongi chimed in once more, “Dinner is ready.”
The rest of the evening had passed with laughter and fellowship that you found yourself truly enjoying, and at some point you had tried to remember when the last time you had felt this at ease, this…at home?
Even in Eunoia, tragedy had always surrounded you during your youth, uncertainty of the war and the future as a growing lady and plunged into icy fear as a young woman, you wanted to say you had other moments of relaxation.
But you couldn’t think of a single time, except for this moment, you found yourself curling up against Jungkook, yawning as your eyes began to droop and your head resting on his shoulder.
When your eyes opened once more, you were uncertain of how much time had passed other than the indication that everyone else had departed to their tents.
Jungkook had been leaning on one hand, the other wrapped around you as he had stared thoughtfully in the fire before realizing you had awoke, “Are you ready to depart for bed?”
It was a quiet usher that made you nod with another yawn, letting him help you up as you walked over to your shared tent.
Due to the few people in your party, a circle of tents was formed, yours however just a little closer to the fire upon your request and how could you be blamed on a frigid night such as this? Even Fenrir was curled up right next to the fire, paying you both no mind as he continued to rest.
The tent wasn’t extremely spacious, but it gave you enough room to get what you needed done without being on top of one another, “Let’s get you out of this.”
“And into what?” You were more awake now than before, “Did Wheein leave me something?”
Jungkook looked down at you, a sort of boyish look on his face making you pinch him, “Don’t look at me like that,” He chuckled softly grabbing your hand away from his bicep, “We have plenty of furs, and i’ll let you sleep on the fireside, it’s making me hot being that close anyways.”
“It’s too cold!” You whined out quietly.
“You really want to sleep like that?” Jungkook was already stripping himself, “I’m burning up personally.”
Your lips parted multiple times at the sight of his chiseled muscles, biceps flexing as he pulled down his pants revealing the taunt thick muscles of his thighs, even more notably his undergarments.
“Come,” Jungkook had a small smirk on his face as if knowing your eyes roamed his body despite how hard you were trying to be discreet, “Let me undress you.”
You let out a discontented noise but it was difficult to say no when he looked like this and he was looking at you like that, shuffling over you sat on your knees in front of him, Jungkook leaned forward peeling off each layer with a sort of lethargy, as if in no big hurry.
Despite the chilled air you could still feel the lick of fire through the thick cloth tent, dropping the last layer down your shoulders you shuddered, a sort of shyness creeping over you as you felt your nipples immediately hardening at being exposed.
Jungkook helped you shuffled out of the last layer, in nothing more than your panties now, “It’s freezing,” You whispered, trying hard to not let yourself feel self conscious at being close to naked in the tinted firelight that your husband could easily see, “If you’re content let’s go to bed.”
“Ah,” Jungkook immediately stopped you, eyes staying on your soft perked tits, “The cold will help keep you healthy.” He had a stupid boyish look on his face again as he leaned in, warm breath fanning along your cheek before he leaned down unable to resist parting his lips to take your left tit into his mouth.
You let out a breath louder than you intended, but the you couldn’t help it, the sharp contrast between the cold air and his warm wet tongue had your body flush with arousal, and clearly you weren’t the only one as your eyes dropped down, a solid print formed showing your husband was also feeling the same.
“Jungkook, it's too cold for this…!” You whined out quietly despite your legs immediately parting for him to sit between as he moaned against your breast, other hand squeezing your left tit as he pinched your hardened bud between his thumb and finger while suckling on the other.
You forced the moan back into your throat.
Jungkook finally released your bud from his lips, looking up at you with dark eyes full of arousal, “Well then we’ll just have to warm you up then won’t we, my goddess?” His hand slithering down your waist as he parted his lips once more your left tit, sucking harshly making you jolt.
His fingers pushing beneath your panties as his fingers dragging against your puffy slit as you let out a breathy noise legs parting further for him as you leaned back on your hands, hips shifting to give him more access to your cunt.
Jungkook was delighted by the invitation you could tell by the way he harshly sucked your bud, middle finger suddenly pushing inside you, sliding in with a slight pinch of discomfort that didn’t last long as he pushed all the way until his knuckle met with your body.
“We can’t be too loud now,” Jungkook’s lips curled into a smirk, “So you’ll need to be a good girl for me and be quiet.”
You bit down on your lip as he pushed his index finger inside you the pinched discomfort returning the sensation of his fingers pushing in and out of your little hole had you relaxing into his touch with a soft moan, walls squeezing around his fingers with each thrust.
“Mmm that’s a good girl,” Jungkook grinned, pupils dilated in lust as he buried his fingers back inside your cunt, feeling your little walls clench around him once more before he brushed his thumb over your clit a higher pitch whine escaping you, “Ah, ah, remember,” Jungkook looked amused, “You need to be quiet if you want to cum all over my fingers princess.”
“Kook,” You whispered, eyes closed tight at the feeling of his thumb teasingly brushing over your clit, fingers buried deep inside you as your walls tightened around his digits, “Please…!”
The cold air was wrapping around your body, but the sharp contracts of his warm tongue and fingers burying inside you.
Jungkook laid you back against the fur before pulling your panties off, “You’ll get your pleasure, but you need to be a good girl and wait,” His voice was deep and soft taking off his own underwear to reveal his heavy, thick cock fully hardened, he parted your legs as you tensed cold air invading your cunt as he pushed his fingers back inside you, your clit extra sensitive from the cold with each little brush of his thumb, every little tease sent a sharp jolt of pleasure in your body.
Wet sticky arousal dripping from you little hole as you squeezed around his fingers, wiggling your hips a little with a whine, “Kook, need more..” You whispered out, not liking this slow teasing game.
“Patience,” Jungkook replied, fingers pulling out of you only a little just to thrust them back in, he did this once more, even rougher, his pace was just right, hitting that sweet little spot inside your body that your walls clenching each time as your legs twitched.
Jungkook’s free hand rubbed through your puffy wet slit before he gripped the base of his cock, a hissed grunt escaping him as he slowly pumped his base, watching the lewd act immediately made a soft moan escape you, just the idea of his fat cock inside you had you clenching hard around him as he began arithmetically thrusting his fingers into that sweet little spot.
“Fuuck you like watching me stroke my fat cock for you my love?” Jungkook let out a wicked look, his hand running all the way up his cock, thumb messily smearing his precum over his fat bulbous head before running it back down meanwhile his other hand began forcefully shoving inside your little hole greedily.
His thumb circling your clit as pleasure began shooting through your body, your eyes never leaving his cock that he squeezed tightly in his hand pumping it eagerly as his eyes flickered between your cunt sucking in his fingers needily and your face, entranced by his movements.
It made his shaft throb so bad in pleasure it hurt, he threw his head back with a low moan hips lifting as he thrusted his cock into his fist, feeling your little hole squeeze so tight around him it was difficult to move his fingers.
Jungkook locked eyes with you, that wicked look on his face, “What do you think that little ex lover of yours would say if he could see you right now?”
“Mmm! Right there…!” You whimpered out, struggling to keep your voice quiet as your legs turned limp at how rough he was thrusting his fingers into that sweet little spongy spot inside you, “Kook, right there…!”
Jungkook lifted his hips once more, fucking his fist at the way your legs lifted up, bringing them to your chest to obediently spread your cunt further for him, “Would he say I’m corrupting you right now?”
You had to bite down on your hand to fight back the whines and moans trying to escape you, “Please…! Please.” You kept muttering it, body twisting and building so fast your mind was completely blank aside from the filth Jungkook was whispering to you.
“That I’m tainting his pretty little Eunoian princess, filling her cunt up until she’s completely fucked out cumming all over my fingers?” Jungkook harshly squeezed the base of his cock, keeping his knuckles buried in your cunt as he rapidly hit into your g-spot.
Jungkook wanted to laugh at the strangled high pitched moan escaping you as you desperately tried to keep it quiet, feeling your warm little walls wrap tight around his fingers as you came, arms wrapping around your face to try and keep your cries of pleasure to yourself.
Jungkook eased you through your orgasm before pulling his fingers out of you, low breathes escaping you as your chest lifted and dropped before letting your arms drop from your face to the crude sight of Jungkook’s fingers in his mouth, eyes closed with soft moan as he licked your cum off them.
“This is the best way I could have ever relaxed.” Jungkook pulled his fingers from his mouth with a content look as he laid down next to you, your eyes however still on his hardened cock.
“But you…” You frowned.
Jungkook raised his brows before his eyes dropped to his cock before shrugging, “I don’t cum easily, a good and bad thing I guess. C’mere love.”
“How do you want me?” Jungkook’s eyes snapped back open as they met yours, as if trying to figure out if he heard you correct, “I want you to feel good too, how do you want me?”
Jungkook moaned softly closing his eyes once more, unable to look at those cute, eager little eyes of yours, basically asking to be filled up by him.
“Ride my cock.” Jungkook replied, admittedly getting difficult to keep his eyes open, but he’d rather kill himself then miss the opportunity to cum inside your pretty, puffy little cunt.
You knew what he meant, you had gathered as much the last time but you just… you awkwardly straddled him, his hands on your hips to help guide you, this wouldn’t be as difficult as last time right?
Grabbing his cock in your hand you heard a gritted hiss through his teeth, rubbing his bulbous head through your wet folds before lining him against your entrance, unlike last time you sank onto it.
Biting your lip as you squeezed your eyes shut, rather than a pinch the discomfort was still moderate, but not nearly as much as the first time.
“Mmm fuck,” Jungkook moaned softly, still unable to process that he was getting to feel your warm little walls wrapping around his thick head, “Does it still hurt?”
His hands soothingly rubbed up to your waist before back to your hips, “A little,” You whispered, settling your hands on his chest, “I still don’t know what I’m doing.”
Jungkook opened his lidded eyes, trying his damn hardest to not fall asleep right now, “It’s not difficult, just a matter of practice. Sink a little lower…” Jungkook bit his lower lip a little at watching his cock sink further inside your warm cunt, “Now lift your hips like this.”
You let his hands guide your movements as you let out a soft whine, the pain subsiding as his cock began to slide inside you with ease, stuffing you so full it was difficult to believe you had something this big inside you.
Just the feeling of his heavy cock burying inside your cunt made your walls wrap tighter around him, slowly bouncing on his cock as Jungkook’s hands settled on your hips, “Fuck yeah love, just like that, riding my fuckin’ cock like you were made for it.”
His words of pleasure made you bounce a little faster, taking him a little deeper each time before his hands tightened on your hips, suddenly grabbing you and pulling you all the way down, you let out a tiny whine at being so full of cock with no warning, walls rapidly clenching around him as you moaned.
Jungkook’s eyes were closed as he let out a breathy deep moan, “Could fall asleep like this every night, use my pretty little wife as my personal cock warmer, mmm keep squeezing around me like that.” He had a sleepy smirk on his face as his hands wrapped around your ass, urging you to start riding him once more.
You quickly found you loved being full of cock though, cunt split open by something so thick and heavy, excitement trilled through your body making your walls wrap tight around him as you began bouncing on his cock.
Letting out quiet moans at the feeling of his shaft hitting all the right places inside you, “Mmm yeah, oh…fuck…” You whined out softly, sitting up right as you bounced all the down his cock as you grinded against his pubic bone.
Jungkook forced his tired eyes open to the amazing sight of you, his pretty wife completely naked bouncing on his cock, tits bouncing and face fucked out, clearly pleasuring yourself now, “Make me cum,” He moaned out softly, “Let me fill that pretty little cunt up.”
You kept trying to bite back your whines as your hips became more messy in bouncing, uneven and unsteady as pleasure quickly built inside you, sinking back on his cock as your walls tightened, moaning just a hair louder as you creamed all over his cock.
Jungkook was tired, sleep near taking him the same way you took his cum, letting it shoot deep inside you as you swiveled your hips, taking every lost drop he’d give as quiet breathes filled the tent, your own eyes closed with that same unmistakable tiredness.
Jungkook let out a tired smile, “What a good girl.” He pulled you onto his chest, shifting you both to be buried beneath the blankets and furs, being skin to skin made you realize just how cold you had been.
Jungkook’s skin was like fire, hot to the touch and your own personal little fire, curling up against him, your eyes immediately fell heavy, sleep had never felt so peaceful as being skin to skin with your husband.
The journey to Kimhae had been rather uneventful and what few encounters you had with wolves and even a bear, Fenrir had easily warded them off, your baby having grown so much in the last months now standing just a little taller than your horse.
Jungkook had been up ahead chatting with Yoongi for awhile now, something regarding plans on resuming the Eastern movement when you returned from Yule.
Wheein had been riding by you for awhile now in a comfortable silence aside from a few comments to Fenrir who had been running ahead in the snow and finding random branches to be thrown, the only problem being they were too heavy for you to toss.
“Something on your mind Wheein?” You finally asked, having noticed a faraway look in her eyes for a good while now.
Her eyes met yours before she gave a small, weak smile, “Nothing incredibly important I just…” She faltered a little, “I know the past cannot be changed but, I can’t help but feel like so many events could have been avoided if it weren’t for me.”
You straightened up, frowning immediately at her words, “What would make you say that?”
Wheein hesitated to speak, “...What happened, with my execution, you…” It looked as if it was physically difficult to attempt to finish her sentence, “I know how important keeping your culture intact is for you. You’ve done nothing but try to become a Penumbrian Princess, and for you to be put in a position where you had to compromise your own personal oath and belief…” Wheein let out a shaky breath, visibly puffing in the cold air as her eyes looked watery, “I feel as though I haven’t given you a proper apology M’lady.”
Your heart felt like it was twisted, “You have nothing to apologize over Wheein. I am still mourning many things but I…I don’t regret what I did. I said it once and I will say it again, I was willing to do anything to get you back. Di Jin was the assassin who attempted to kill me, which started this entire mess…I don’t know how much you’ve heard about the Estate…”
Wheein’s lips stayed in a frown, cheeks flush and rosy from the cold wind as she adjusted her shawl, shaking her head, “Only whispers of rumors to what happened, and my own assumptions when you intervened on my execution.”
You let out a shaky sigh, trying your best to detach yourself from the memory as you recalled the events that lead up to that fateful night, “They had lured Yoongi away and I foolishly sent him in good faith that nothing would happen but…Di Jin revealed himself that night revealing that he had come to finish what he started. He almost did,” Your hand trembled as you pressed it against your chest, “Then he got closer to me, trying to kiss my neck and…I don’t know.”
And that was the funniest part, you still had vivid clips of what happened in your head, but it was all so fast, so gorey, your mind had blotted out a lot of it, “One minute he was on top of me, and the next minute I was covered in blood.”
There it was, that distinct iron on your tongue, it made you sick to your stomach, “And I didn’t stop after he was dead,” Your lips trembled as you whispered, “That’s the part that scares me the most. He was dead and I kept going, I...it was like I was possessed, unable to stop. I felt…” It felt like bile was beginning to rise in your throat as you swallowed it back, “Good. Powerful, invincible in that moment, feeling his flesh in my mouth, the taste of his blood on my tongue-”
Your hand suddenly grabbed your lips, trying to swallow back the bile which risen much faster, immediately grabbing the water satchel that hung off the saddle of your horse, taking a long drink from it to try and wash what you had just admitted away.
It had been plaguing the back of your mind every moment it was quiet, the fact that something inside you liked it, even enjoyed the depraved act, showing someone who had disrespected you and your heritage, making a mockery of it for so long, a little devil inside you secretly wishing you had finished what you had started, to devoured him the way your ancestors would.
Even now a little voice in the back of your head was thrilled by it, it never ceased to make you sick, Weak in the stomach with shame every time it crossed your mind, it felt so heretical to think let alone voice aloud, the extent of how much a secret part of you enjoyed it.
“I am so sorry Princess,” Wheein whispered, clearly hurting for you as she held back her tears, inhaling sharply, “I still can’t believe what’s happened. I’m sure being away from Penumbra will be a good break for all of us.”
“If I had just…” You had to stop yourself from saying what you wanted, you had the ability to heal Wheein’s mother, maybe if you had listened to Baba Enàir more carefully, had been more dedicated to your studies as a child…perhaps this whole thing could have been prevented if you had been the one to heal Wheein’s mother, disputing any claims, “I’ll never send you away so often like that without company, I never want to put you in such a compromising position Wheein and for that I am sorry.”
“We all have our grievances about what happened.” Wheein smiled sadly, “But what counts is that we are both alive and well, but…Something else does plague me.”
You tilted your head, patiently waiting for her to continue as she gathered her thoughts, the wind blowing her black locks of hair back as she squinted her eyes, “We still never caught who sent the assassin. What if this happens once more?”
You frowned, you had thought this as well, “Something tells me, whoever did this will try a different tactic next. We must remain vigilant, perhaps moreso in Penumbra then even in Kimhae.” You nodded in thought, “I do agree though, this will be good for all of us.”
This had become routine at night it seemed, waiting for everyone else to depart to bed before being guided back yourself, undressed by your husband’s large, warm hands, and then taken whatever way he wanted, with his hands, his tongue, his cock, you weren’t picky.
You however were starting to become used to the sensation of his cock spliting you open, his cum dripping down your thighs, an unfamiliar soreness between your legs that had a sweet ache that made you crave more.
You had never understood the idea of physical intimacy in the past, it always made your skin crawl at the idea, but then again, you never had a partner you felt you could trust like this.
More than anything, you loved being close to him like this, loved that you could be so intimate with the person you trusted more than anyone, his arms wrapped around you, laying slightly on top of your back, keeping you warm just as he promised every night.
It was odd, the comfort it brought feeling his warm cum dribbling from your little hole as you yawned, eyes closing as you dozed off in his arms.
It was still late into the night when you awoke to his lips pressing on your neck, moaning softly as his hips rutted into you, cock hardened once more much to your sleepy surprise, “Mm, need you my love.” His voice was much deeper, telling you he was also half asleep, “Dreamt of your pretty little cunt, letting me fill it up.”
“Mmm Kook.” You mumbled out, eyes closing as you felt your leg being propped further up to give him better access to your little entrance, his arms tightened around your waist as he managed to line his cock up before pushing it in.
A soft sleepy moan escaped you, an entirely new position you were acquainted with but something about it made you feel so full, his cock pushing all the way inside you until his hips were flush with yours.
Each lazy thrust of his hips had soft noises escaping you, your eyes shutting in tired bliss at his cock pushing past your little walls, filling you to the brim each time, throbbing as the head of his cock kept hitting that spongy little spot.
Jungkook moaned as he buried his cock inside you once more, his movements having paused forcing your eyes back open, was he asleep? Your walls suddenly squeezed around his cock at being so split open by him.
This elicited a moan from his lips that sounded like pure sex, “Your cunt is heaven,” He mumbled in your skin, “Could keep my cock buried inside you forever.”
Not moving was stirring you further, making you more awake as you whined, “Jungkook, move…!” You wiggled your hips a little earning a small thrust from him.
“Think I’ll asleep like this,” He moaned once more into your skin, “Like the way your cunt wraps around me like this when I’m splitting your cunt open.”
Jungkook moaned at feeling your cunt squeeze around him once more at his words, just like he had hoped, “Just go back to sleep my love,” He mumbled in your ear, hand pulling around to cup your tit in his hand as he massaged it making you whine in frustration as your hips began to pull and lift, sliding his cock in and out of your cunt just a little.
“Mmm fuuck, sweetheart go to sleep.” Jungkook’s voice was a pitch higher than before, his free hand almost guiding your hips though as you fucked back against him, and your eyes were closed but sleep was not on your mind.
Your lips parted with a soft whine at the new sensation this position gave you with him behind, his cock slide inside you just the right way brushing that sweet little spot with each bounce of your hips, it had you rapidly clenching around his cock.
Muffling your moans into your blankets as you pushed all the way back against him wiggling your hips as pleasure throbbed throughout your cunt, feeling arousal dripping from your hole as his cock slid back inside you with ease as you let out a pathetic whine, walls wrapping harsh around him but it just wasn’t quite enough to get yourself to orgasm.
Jungkook let out a sleepy chuckle, “Working yourself up are you?”
It wasn’t fair…! He woke you up and you were somehow the one falling apart on his cock desperate to cum, “Koo, please.” You whimpered out quietly, shifting yourself a little to be better able to lift your hips up to his, giving his cock better access to slid in and out of your little hole with ease.
“Mmm shit, your acting like a bitch in heat,” He moaned softly, eyes dropping to your cunt that kept backing into his cock, “You want to be fucked?” He whispered deviously in your ear.
And Jungkook knew you did, could feel the way your walls wrapped so tight around his throbbing cock, wanting so desperately to reach your climax.
“Jungkook…” You whispered urgently.
“Say it.”
You let out a frustrated noise, pausing your movement but Jungkook wasn’t having it, his hand wrapping around your neck as he gave it a harsh squeeze, letting out a small gag as his voice deepened in your ear, “Beg for it little princess, beg for me. Beg for my cock.”
Jungkook suddenly thrusted inside you, harshly making your body jolt as you whined out, shaking your head, this only made him thrust rougher causing you to squeeze around him in excitement, “Mmm like this, feels…! Good.” You whimpered out quietly, your body twitching as pleasure blossomed in your cunt, you were so close…!
Jungkook buried back inside you, stopping once more causing a louder fussy whine to escape you, his hand squeezing around your neck once more, “If you like this then you’ll love what’s next. But you need to tell me, c’mon,” His hips lazily swiveled before giving short thrusts, edging your body as your hands curled into fists, “Tell me you want my cock, that you want your pretty little cunt destroyed by me, that you want to be filled with my cum.”
You could feel saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth, his cock teasing your body with such short movements it had you whimpering, “Koo’, fuck me, please…! Need you’, need your cock, anything…!”
Jungkook moaned as your quiet frantic plea’s as he suddenly pulled out of you, a sharp whine escaping you as he swatted your ass to be quiet, manhandling you onto you stomach as he kneeled between your legs you felt confused before your hips were lewdly lifted, presenting your cunt to him.
You didn’t have any time to adjust or even think before his cock pushed back inside you, a moan much louder than you meant for it to escape your lips at an entirely new, better sensation, every movement of his cock had you cunt squeezing in pleasure.
“Mmm yeah, you like being made to take it from behind?” Jungkook moaned, keeping your hips up as he thrusted inside your little entrance, watching it split open for his cock before greedily sucking it in, “Maybe this is how your little dryad kin had children? Fucking like animals?” He whispered out, hearing a gurgled whine from you only made his thrusts that much more forceful, the sound of his balls smacking into your skin music to his ears, “Being made into nothing more than a bitch desperate for cock.”
The side of your face was planted into the ground, eyes shut in pleasure at just how good it felt, his cock hitting every little sensitive spot inside you, his demeaning words that would’ve sent flames of angry through your body once upon a time only filled you with excitement, enjoying how he manhandled you how rough he was starting to thrust, no regard for whether your cunt could take it or not.
Your mind was filled with all sorts of unholy things, not realizing how much you were beginning to moan, enjoying the way he had a hand pressed into your back forcing you down on the ground, his balls smacking your skin and his cock pushing past your tight walls.
“Koo’...! ‘m gonna..! Mmm!” Your moans were gurgled, desperate, cunt rapidly squeezing around his cock, a feeling he had quickly grown to love as you crumbled beneath him, at his mercy as he roughly thrusted, burying his cock deep inside you as he quickly leaned over you, chest flush with your back as his hips became faster.
Just as you let out the whinest, loudest cry his hand covered your mouth to muffle it, tears began to build in your eyes at how powerful the pleasure was building in your body, your legs uselessly twitching and your body convulsing.
But it was all useless as his cock kept sliding in and out of your small hole, “Go on sweetheart, mm know how bad you wanna cum. I see those pathetic little tears. Cum sweetheart, cream all over my fat cock, make it nice and messy for me.”
Your body was being jolted with every thrust of his hips, your clit aching to be touched as your cunt was full of his thick shaft, his dirty words whispered in your ear making you throw a whiny pathetic fit as your walls squeezed even tighter around him, so desperate to be obedient.
“C’mon princess,” Jungkook moaned tantalizingly in your ear, his hips pounding into you with nice lengthy thrusts, wet lewd sounds coming from how soaked you were, “Can feel it, feel how bad that pretty little cunt wants to cum, squeezing around me so tight, fuuck, that’s it, c’mon.” Jungkook wasn’t intentionally edging you but god did it feel good, you were moaning and crying into his hand, tears slowly beginning to trickle down your face at how good you felt.
Not a single thought in your head other than his cock stuffing you full, purposely dragging into the little spongy spot each time just edging you a little closer each time to your release.
“Does your little pussy feel good?” He teased you, a wicked grin on his face as his hips pushed fully inside you, giving short thrusts to keep you as full of cock as possible, “You like presenting this little hole to me? Letting me fuck my seed deep inside, my pretty wife who swore she’d never let me cuff her in bed? How does it feel knowing I’m going to fill your pretty little cunt up?”
Jungkook let out a low moan, feeling your muffled voice cry out against the skin of his palm as your cunt rapidly clenched around him cumming so hard it felt like your eyes were rolling to the back of your head.
And Jungkook wasn’t stopping, his hips slammed into you, wet lewd sounds filling the tent and his balls smacking into your skin as he kept his hand on your mouth to keep your moans and cries of pleasure quiet, unable to subdue them yourself anymore, as the pleasure kept going, his hips jostling you around before you felt it.
“Fuck!” Jungkook growled out, burying his cock inside you as he came, roughly pumping his cock inside you as he let out a shaky moan, letting your greedy cunt suck every drop from him as he moaned, perhaps louder then even he intended.
After a few more seconds he collapsed on top of you, making you whine, sniffling as you wiped your face as you felt his hand drag to your waist, stroking it tenderly as he pressed a kiss against your neck, “You’re so perfect.” He whispered, pressing another kiss against your skin, “Made for me. Only me.” His hand squeezed your waist, before he laid flat on his back shifting you around to lay against him, your body curling up as you set your head against his chest.
Your thighs were aching and your hand trembled if you looked close enough as you dragged it over his chest.
And for the first time, with the fire illuminating the inside of the tent, you took the time to drag it over the rough skin of his chest and upon closer inspection noticed all sorts of marks, curiously you shifted once more.
“Was twice not enough for my little sun?” Jungkook chuckled as you straddled his waist, his hands wrapping around your hips, “We’ll need to start retiring earlier if you want me to have more stamina.”
“I’m not…!” You felt your body flush, trying to remind yourself that you were in fact naked right now, “I’m just looking.”
“Mmm, so am I.” Jungkook’s eyes trailing down your exposed body to your cunt, watching the white substance dripping out onto his skin, “If I weren’t already exhausted I’d already have you bent over again.”
“Jungkook!” You whispered out, starting to feel embarrassed now, “Stop…please.”
He let out a tired, boyish smile and staring down at him you couldn’t help but mirror it, he looked much younger like this, more like his age, eyes lidded from tiredness as his hands wrapped further, fingers digging into your ass, “Is it a crime to admire my wife? You’re only sitting on top of me naked.”
“I’ve seen you shirtless many times now,” You decided to no longer entertain his dirty thoughts, slowly lowering yourself down his chest making his fingers squeeze tighter around your ass, “But i’ve never truly paid attention.”
“To my godly physique?”
This made you both quietly laugh as you shook your head, unable to not be endeared by this new playful side of him you had never seen, “How did you know?” You whispered back, a light tease in your voice as your hand traced over his sternum, “I meant the scars…How many battles did you fight in?”
Jungkook palmed your ass in his hands, massaging the flesh as he yawned, eyes closing as he hummed potentially trying to recall, “Too many to count honestly, I was drafted before the Five Year War started as to be properly prepared.”
Your fingers traced over each scar, some long and thin, others short and deeper, few discolored still having never properly healed, others faded and hardly visibly, “How’d you get this one?” Your finger’s stopped on his left right, a circular scar it was small, as if he had been pierced.
Jungkook’s eyes slowly lidded once more, following where your fingers pressed, “When we first rode to Rolon for war, an archer shot me right off my horse, my only saving grace from death was the wind otherwise it would’ve pierced my heart, y'know it’s said the Rolon Archer’s were trained since children, they could shoot a coin from over a hundred yards away.”
“You were injured before the battle had even begun?” You whispered out, perhaps a little amused at his story.
Jungkook’s hand trailed down the back of your thigh, pulling them apart just a little making your hips brush over his skin, the feeling of wet stickiness rubbing over his skin, “It was my first endeavor by myself, my men were counting on me to lead them, you can imagine it was a pretty pathetic sight.”
“So how did you manage to siege them if you could not get close?” You tilted your head, resting your elbows down his chest, your hips appeasing him as you softly grinded down on his pubic bone.
“We had all camped outside their outer districts, preparing ourselves,” Jungkook let out a pleasured hum, eyes closed once more and fingers trailing back to your ass before settling at your steady, soft movement, “We could not get close to their borders without them shooting us down by the tens if not hundreds. And so we would have to make ourselves unknown, invisible.”
A quiet moan escaped him at the feeling of your hips pulling just a little further down just above where his cock was beginning to stir despite his own lethargy.
“Invisible?” Tiredness was beginning to pull at your lids but you enjoyed this too much, the conversation, the feeling of your puffy, cum covered slit grinding against him, making him break focus, “Surely that wouldn’t be possible?”
“Invisible to the faraway eye that is,” Jungkook’s brows pinched, fingers gripping your ass a little tighter as your hips dragged just along the base of his hardening cock, weepy and sensitive from having already came inside you twice this night, “Mmm, I didn’t think you’d be such a little lust driven succubus once we consummated.”
It made you grind him just a little harder, the feeling of his cock bobbing before it smacked against your cunt, fully hardened and precum smearing against your asscheek.
“I’m trying to have a conversation,” You teased, hands traveling over the expanse of his chest before your fingers found his dark nipples, curiously you pinched them a little, “You’re the one that’s making it sexual.”
A restrained moan escaped him as his eyes cracked open, you couldn’t help your curiosity, fascinated at his different reactions to different things, after all, you were learning his body just as much as he was learning of yours.
“Sex is dripping off of you,” Jungkook sighed, feeling your hips tease his cock once more, puffy slit rubbing down it’s base before back to his pubic bone, “I can’t help the way my body reacts to it, climbing on top of me naked isn’t a productive way to have a conversation.”
You couldn’t help but close your eyes briefly, relishing in the feeling of his heady, heavy cock dragging through your puffy slit, coating it in a mixture of your wetness and cum.
Feeling his shaft rubbing into your sensitive clit was you let out a soft moan, “You didn’t continue your story. How were you invisible.” Your hips dragged back to his pubic bone, pausing your movement to try and refocus your conversation.
Jungkook let out a displeased sound, fingers digging against your ass once more, “If you want to hear my stories, keep entertaining me.”
“Can you stay focused?” You gave him a mischievous smile, slowly pulling back up to your elbows, his eyes immediately on your tits.
“As long as you don’t make me cum,” Jungkook retorted right back, a cocky grin on his face, “Well?” You tried not to shy away from his expression as your hips slowly began rubbing on him once more, teasing the base of his cock as he let out a soft pleasured moan, eyes slowly closing once more to enjoy the feeling as he recalled, “I proposed to my men that we would camouflage ourselves with the terrain, we covered ourselves in mud and moss, whatever greenery we could and crawled on the earth to evade their eyes.”
His fingers dragged down to the back of your thighs once more as your hips dragged a little lower down his shaft as your clit throbbed making a soft moan escape you, “That’s how you managed to siege their capitol Montclair?”
His fingers pulled your thighs apart, opening your slit a little more as it rubbed along is shaft back to his base, “Mmhm, like that,” He whispered out at feeling your hips pause at the base of his cock, wiggling a little to push it further between the lips of your cunt.
Silence had suddenly taken over as your eyes shut, enjoying being able to pleasure your husband as your hips slowly rode the base of his cock, letting it slip against your lips and rub along your clit.
This type of pleasure was slow, tantalizing, making his hips rut a little, gliding with ease against your soaked cunt, “What about this one.” Your fingers briefly brushed along his left breast, a long wicked line crossing it as you slowed your hips back down.
“Training accident when I was younger,” Jungkook murmured out, sounding half asleep, “I had assumed Hoseok was going for a lower strike but he tricked me, he got too close and accidentally sliced me right across the chest, it was a larger wound when it had first happened.”
Jungkook had a faint smile on his lips as his hands dragged to your waist, keeping a firm grip to encourage your hips, his eyes pulled open only a little, “He wouldn’t stop crying while profusely apologizing to me, saying he’d do anything to keep the wrath from my father at bay.”
“Did he hear about it?” Your moan was mixed with your soft laugh, grinding down as your clit dragged against his skin.
Jungkook’s breath hitched, “No, it only went as far as my aunt. She merely laughed it off, saying it was good practice for the real deal.”
You paused your movement, hands tracing down his particularly slim waist, just at the bottom of his ribcage, “And this?”
You lifted yourself up as Jungkook opened his eyes, “No looking.” You whispered out.
This made him confused before he let out a quiet laugh, closing his eyes once more, “I’ve seen it already princess, you can’t hide anything from me at this point.”
“I’m…testing…it’s lewd.” You tried not to be embarrassed as you sat down on his taunt, thick muscular thighs, legs still parted as you situated your cunt against his base once more, “How did you get that scar?” You prompted him once more.
Jungkook seemed to be having an increasingly harder time focusing as he felt it, your cunt making contact with the sensitive underside of his cock, your hips lifting to drag against his shaft, “It was when we attempted war with Kyoto, I was in the frontlines with the other underlings and an assassin of Kyoto had made his way into the trenches.”
Jungkook’s jaw was clenched as he felt your hand wrap around the head of his cock, giving short as he let out a breathy moan, hand running through his hair, “He was a full grown man and we were nothing more than boys pretending to be men. His sword longer than us all,” He bit down on his lip at your hand squeezing his cock, your cunt sliding against his base, “He cut two of the other underlings in half with just one swing, I was almost the third, I had barely managed to jump back in time but the tip of his blade still cut through me, blood was everywhere.”
“How did you live?” You whispered out, sadness somewhere deep inside you filled your heart through the haze of lust.
“Jimin had managed to jump on his back,” Jungkook let out another breath moan at feeling your hand drag down his cock, “Stabbed him in the neck, he choked on his own blood as they all rushed to get first aid for me. I almost bled out that night but by some miracle they had managed to stop the bleeding and get me stitches.”
Jungkook groaned as his hands curled into fists, pleasure becoming much stronger than it was supposed to, “Enough please.”
The movements ceased, “Does it not feel good?”
“It feels too good, I told you to not make me cum.” Jungkook sighed softly in relief as he felt you change positions back to your original, the weight of your body situated once more fully on top of him, “Mmm warm my cock.”
“I don’t understand how that works.” You whispered out, a bit embarrassed, you were a fast learner but you still didn’t know all the ends and outs of how all of this worked.
This made Jungkook laugh softly, endeared at your words as he forced his tired eyes back open, “It’s simple honestly, sit on my cock, let it stay warm inside you. I’ll be able to focus and recall events more better that way.”
“Really?” You replied skeptically.
“Mhm, what else do you want to know?” Jungkook let a crooked smirk tug on his lips as you grabbed the base of his cock, obediently doing as he told you, the fat head pushing inside you, a noise escaping you both.
Slowly you slid down his cock until your hips were flush with his, “Mmm, what now?” It was hard to focus now having him stuffing you so full.
Jungkook let out a long content sigh, “Nothing, this is it. Ask away.”
His hands lovingly stroked your hips as you suddenly struggled to speak, feeling his fat large cock throbbing inside you, walls clenching around him as your arousal dripped.
Jungkook let out an amused breath, “Cat got your tongue?”
You shook your head, slowly leaning back down to rest yourself on his chest, but somehow laying made your body feel even more full, “This one?” Your words were soft, trembled with a quiet whine, fingers brushing over his right bicep, a thin long line curving around it.
Jungkook’s hands stroked your waist before trailing over your back, “It happened during our siege of Prokiev, the battle happened overnight and it was dark out, fire my only source for my fight with their royal guard captain, our adrenaline was running out and we were both ragged, he threw a sloppy blow aiming for my chest but I moved away and back, the edge of his blade managed to pierce right through my chainmail. It wasn’t a serious injury.”
Jungkook let out a soft pleasured sigh at your little walls clenching around him, seemingly unable to relax with him buried this deep and unmoving in your cunt, “It serves as a reminder though.”
“To what?” You whispered out, setting your head down on his chest, biting down on your lip once more, trying so, so hard to focus on his words and not his cock, it felt like he was completely stretching you out, hitting all the way up into your stomach though surely that wasn’t possible.
Even if it felt like it was.
“That many want me dead, sharpening their blades that even a shallow cut could one day maim me or better yet kill me. Sometimes I wonder how I survived,” Jungkook murmured, eyes closing as he fought the sleep off, “Each of these scars is proof that I’m still here, that somehow despite all of the odds, whether it was pure luck, or pure skill, I lived another day. Learned, grew from my mistakes.”
Your eyes had fallen shut, tiredness pulling you into a lull as you felt a blanket being pulled over you, engulfing you in warmth once more.
You let out a ghost of a whine at feeling the slightest rut of his hips, cock making sure it was buried as far inside you as possible, Jungkook pressed a kiss against your head, “Something above let me live, let me marry you, the love of my life.”
Your eyes had become heavier with each passing gentle press of his lips, you had soon fallen asleep to the sweet sensation of his lips feathering your skin, hands stroking your side, cock keeping you full and ushers of love on his lips.
While the journey had been safe and overall good travel, to say you were relieved to be in Kimhae was an understatement, the air was cold, but it didn’t have that wet sharp feeling it did in Penumbra, and only a bit of frost covered the ground now.
Your thickest layers were shedded during travel as it got warmer much to your relief, more than anything you were ready to see your family, and even more so ready to sleep in a proper bed and rest.
You couldn’t voice it aloud to anyone but your thighs were sore from not only riding your horse but also from other nefarious activities late into the night, you were absolutely ready to stand on your own two feet for the next week.
Upon entering the gates of Kimhae the sight was familiar enough to you, elegant towering buildings, busy towns people who all seemed to pause from their business at the sight of not just you but your husband, whispers broke out and if your life in Penumbra had helped you with one thing, it was being able to ignore the stares.
Riding next to your husband as you made your way through the capitol until you arrived at the large gates of the palace, the courtyard open and lush, what you hadn’t expected was the sight of someone so familiar and yet…now had become a total stranger to you.
Kim Seokjin, the man you had once thought was the love of your life, only to realize that this was a feeble, childish type of love, the type of love you think is love until you truly fall in love.
He stood tall and proud as his eyes locked onto your figure, standing in white double buttoned vest and long sleeve, royal blue cape cascading behind him dramatically.
He looked like something out of a fairytale and you couldn’t deny Seokjin was just as handsome as you remembered, clean cut and warm skin.
Coming to a stop, your vision of him was somewhat blocked by your husband, and for the first time seeing them almost side by side made you realize just how different they were, Jungkook dawned in all black, hair array from travel and longer then when you had first met, well overdue for a trim.
His look, all too familiar, neutral but often coming across as dark and brooding to a person who wasn’t well acquainted with him.
And you supposed you must have seemed different from your old self as well, you no longer wore flowery apparel light apparel, now often dawned in black and maroons, today no different though you had gone without the fuss and feathers to make travel easier, a plain black gown with an under layer of red peeping out, sleeves dramatically long but slits having formed to make movement easier, another white long sleeve layer beneath to keep you warm as well as curl up to your neck.
Jungkook had already dismounted his horse, holding his hands out to you as you stood up in your saddle, pulling your leg over before you felt the security of his hands wrap around your waist, lifting you down safely.
You offer him a tiny smile of thanks as you turn to face Seokjin, the hand staying curled around your waist however did not go unnoticed by you as you both walked to greet your ex-lover.
“Seokjin, I cannot thank you enough for your invitation,” You gave him a soft smile, perhaps a sort of soft spot for him still lingered in your chest, after all, while your love might not have been deep, it was something, and you’d take it for what it was, “It’s been a long time.”
“Yes, I’m relieved to see you alive and well, it’s been too long.” Seokjin’s eyes were locked onto you and only you, and briefly you felt a sort of severed connection.
His eyes drilling into you with a sort of passion that you only blinked at with a friendly polite smile, him taking your hand into his own as he lifted it to his lips, “Truthfully I don’t think enough time has passed.”
Your hand was suddenly snatched away by a much larger one, Jungkook’s expression had quickly gone from neutral to one hundred percent leering and unfriendly, that typical icy Jeon glare as he spoke coldly, “Kim Seokjin.”
Seokjin’s eyes burned into the sight, Jungkook’s hand holding onto your own in a sort of protective manner, as if he assumed the man’s kiss to your hand would maim you.
“Jeon Jungkook.” Seokjin’s eyes twisted into a glare, but it simply didn’t have the same bite as Jungkook’s, “I can’t say I remember inviting the Jeon’s.”
“Interesting you say that,” Jungkook replied, a haughty cold look on his face, “Given one found its way to my wife,” He glanced down at you, a squeeze of his hand on your waist and his hand releasing your own only for his fingers to trace your jawbone, “Only the most beautiful Jeon.”
Jungkook’s thumb tugged at your lower lip and you couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze, somewhat flustered at such an open display of affection, “What my husband means to say is we’ve come here to represent Penumbra together, I hope this will be the first of many Yule’s we can all come together and celebrate the Rite of Peace.”
You could tell by Seokjin’s gritted smile that whatever he had anticipated this was not it, it softened however as his eyes landed on you, “For you, I’d do anything Y/n.” His gaze became more sharp as they locked back onto Jungkook, “...And I suppose that goes for you as well. I hope your stay in Kimhae treats you well.”
“As do I.” Jungkook retorted, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we’d like to rest after our journey.”
You briefly glanced up at Jungkook, brow furrowing in a little bit of annoyance, you understood that Jungkook absolutely did not like Seokjin in the least, but couldn’t he be a little more discreet about it?
This being your first public appearance as a couple meant you’d have to be careful how you presented yourselves, if he wanted to quarrel with the man you did not care as long as he did it in private where prying eyes and ears couldn’t witness it.
“Of course,” Seokjin almost sneered at him, making you shuffle a bit uncomfortable at seeing the men nearly bearing teeth at one another, “My head maid will show you to your room.”
Seokjin gave you one last look, and you couldn’t quite describe it, it was one of yearning and longing, and yet it wasn’t reciprocated as you allowed Jungkook to lead you both into the palace following behind the maid.
“What was all of that about?” You whispered reprimanding to Jungkook.
Jungkook only looked ahead, “He touched you.”
“...He was being polite.” You reasoned, you had never seen such displays from Jungkook before- well aside from the time Claudin had taken your hand.
Come to think of it, you supposed this was less rash then when he pressed a knife into Claudin’s neck for so much as grabbing your hand to kiss, truthfully you should be thankful it didn’t escalate so quickly to that.
Stepping into your guest room you paused, realizing this was the room you used to stay in when you were a maiden...Seokjin probably still has the route memorized…had he thought you’d come to Kimhae alone?
You shook the ridiculous notion away as you took your cloak off, Jungkook shut the door to your shared room, “He touched you.” He emphasized it.
You turned around, raising your eyebrows, not understanding what he was getting at, Jungkook huffed, “Men who touch women like that aren’t being friendly.”
“It was my hand!” You pouted, “You’ve touched my hands plenty of times.”
“And look where it led.” Jungkook countered as he took his own outer apparel off, “That’s just the way it goes. And perhaps because I also know you’ve sucked his cock-”
“Jungkook!” You cried out, embarrassment flooding through you, “Don’t say it so loud!”
This made Jungkook chuckle as he sat on the foot of the bed, “Hmm, you’ve never sucked my cock before come to think of it.” He laughed even louder at suddenly being hit with the cloak you launched at him.
“I am tired and taking a nap, you can either join me or sleep on the floor if you keep being crude.” You kicked your riding shoes off as you pulled the covers curling up in bed, his body immediately beside you, arms wrapping around your waist.
“I can’t help it,” Jungkook replied, snickering into your shoulder, “You’re easy to tease.”
𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃┊rin x reader ft. sae. tormented by his recent injury and decline in mental health, rin visits his family home, only to be met with his biggest issue: you, sae's fiancee.
chapter 1 of after dark miniseries.
WARNINGS. nsfw/suggestive. fem!reader. mostly rin's pov. slowburn. mentions of mental health issues and therapy. mentions of physical injuries. pining. rin & sae are pro players, reader has a backstory and profession. foul language. wc: 6.7k NOTES. eeeeep finally!! first installment is up :> it is a reworked version of what i had already uploaded on my previous blog, so i hope you enjoy this one even more! ♡
There’s something odd hanging heavy in the air – humid and thick as Rin steps out from the airport terminal, suitcase clattering loudly on the sidewalk.
He wonders if it’s the annoyance pooling deep in his gut, caused by the encounter that took place barely minutes ago – a group of fans recognizing him and the few other players in line to border control.
It’s moments like these that put a pause to his gratitude.
It’s when the discoloration under his eyes could be seen from miles away, and yet, it must seem like he’s less of a human as people just keep on yapping. Talking, grabbing – asking if it’s okay to take a picture. Commenting on a recent goal, congratulating. It wouldn’t have been this annoying if not for the fact Shidou and a few other players were right beside him, and yet, everyone seemed desperate only for a smidge of his attention, toppling him over with inquiries and requests and words of appreciation.
There’s no surprise he’s the center of attention, really – the team captain with an aloof aura, so contradicting and unusual for someone of his status. But there is something even more alluring to him, and it just might the way he still manages to crack a slight smile at one of Ryusei’s comments as they move down the line; a small action that’s gotten recorded anyway, he’s noticed, surely to pop up all over Twitter within an hour or two. When was the last time anyone’s seen him smile, after all?
It’s puzzling to some still – the complexity of Paris X Gen’s highest-grossing player. Rin’s presence is dangerous enough to keep him marked by the other team at all times and to him it’s always felt ridiculous and low how they seem utterly petrified at the thought of going one-on-one with him. He plays raw and without mercy, taking each player down like his life depends on it. (Thinking about it, it does, in a twisted way that makes his chest tighten at the thought.) It’s a wonder how he appears to be just as intimidating outside the field, eyes sharp and stance tall, but on his good days, he can give a young fan the softest smile possible. It’s a whiplash – but he never called himself easy to be around. No one would really ever venture such a guess.
That’s what brought him to the very top.
A heavy sigh slips past his lips, fingers tugging the corduroy jacket to cover more of his tee-clad chest, and puts a hand up as his designated driver slows down by the entrance. As the vehicle stops and the man gets out to open the trunk, Rin holds back a sigh to see it’s not the usual driver that meets him during most of his flights. (It’s not because he’s pretentious, though he kind of is, sometimes. He just really, really doesn’t want to talk tonight anymore, something his usual would’ve picked up on. There’s no such comfort right now.)
Rin hands his suitcase over to get it into the trunk, then moves to the backseat of the car, hoping for a quiet ride.
It’s nearing midnight, the flight having been postponed due to some issues that he just couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, and it seems like it’s enough of a reason to keep the driver silent. That, and probably the exhaustion written all over his face, teal eyes zoning out the window and teeth nibbling on chapped lips. Only an idiot would risk picking up some small talk.
He’s back home now, a thoughtful gift for his parents sitting in his suitcase, but there’s no place for nostalgia or relief in his heart. Instead, it fills with dread at the thought of seeing a mess of auburn hair and a pair of turquoise eyes, mirroring his own – no matter how much he resents it.
If it was all up to him, he’d pretend Sae was never part of their family – act like they had never met, like the elder had never broken his dreams and filled the crevices between his ribs with anxiety and resentment. It’s been what – eight years? Almost a decade (and a few therapy attempts) ago, it seems, but finding his own sense of self, his very own objective and goal not dictated by the eldest anymore, the thought of his brother still makes Rin uneasy at best.
He wishes he didn’t see the longing in his mother’s eyes, how she cannot stand to see her sons treat each other like air. There wasn’t much either of their parents could do to bring the brothers back on the right track and it seemed like they knew – could see it in the way the younger tensed up, seeing a suitcase by the front door and an additional pair of shoes on the mat. Rin used to wonder if they ever felt guilty for the input (or, more likely, lack of thereof) they had in their upbringing, but quickly figured that people sending out their twelve-year-old son across the globe were not capable of such complex thoughts in the first place. They had their own way of caring about their sons but Rin wasn’t too keen on commending them for the bare minimum.
There was no way to save them, not back then, and not now.
A screech of the driver slamming the brakes brings Rin back from the train of thoughts, safety belt digging into his chest as he jolts forward. He looks through the windscreen, watches as the car that cut in front of them maneuvers sloppily, and the driver shakes his head.
“What are these people on,” he mumbles, and their eyes momentarily meet through the rear view mirror. “S’ that time of the year, isn’t it,”
It’s a bit awkward, the way silence falls over the vehicle quickly after, but honestly, Rin doesn’t mind that much. He knows he comes off aloof, too proud to engage in small talk. It’s a bit of a lifesaver now when it’s getting hard to keep his eyes open anymore.
He hums in agreement and shifts in his seat, long legs spreading out and forward. Carefully, he rolls his ankle, the strain making his brows, more involuntarily than not. He rests the heel of his foot back down and closes his eyes.
Whether it’s the sprained joint or his pride, it hurts all the same.
The driver seems to catch up on the striker’s discomfort and quickly leans over, pulling the passenger seat forward to make more space. “There, Itoshi-san. It’ll be a bit of a long drive, so make yourself comfy.” He smiles, a little uneasy still, but as Rin stretches his legs out and gives a small mumble of thank you, he takes it as an incentive.
“That last goal was out of this world, honestly– I hope you don’t mind.”
The man sounds sincere, taps his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously. Rin keeps his eyes forward, on the car in front of them.
“Some called it the season’s best goal. I have to agree.”
Yeah, he’s heard it, too - all the praise accompanied by pitiful and worried looks as he limped off the field – hoping, praying the camera doesn’t pick up on the seething look brewing behind his teal irises.
This could’ve happened to anyone, and honestly, it wasn’t even that big of a deal when looked at objectively - but at this moment, it was a luxury beyond Rin’s capacity. It’s a light injury, and he might even consider himself lucky it happened on the last match before Christmas break. He’ll have his time off, spend it with family and friends, and go to his physio appointments without any disturbance. (And get his ear talked off, probably. Because as breathtaking this goal was, he had to push the throbbing pain in his joint aside, force his foot into the awkward angle and feel - hear the crunch of the bone as he sent the ball into the net. If this doesn’t scream irresponsible, then what else does? Rin’s not dumb.)
By the time the season restarts, he’ll be as good as new.
But if there’s one thing Sae engraved into his mind, is that he hates pity and resents vulnerability. He wanted to smack the medical team away as they work on his ankle, swollen and reddening within seconds as they tightened the bandage around it, pressing ice bags to the aching joint.
This can happen to anybody. Anyone but him, it is.
To react to it so passionately isn’t anything unordinary – but it’s everything he wishes he wasn’t. It’s everything Sae always chastised him for.
“Thank you,” Rin simply says and settles on that being his final reply, unwilling to dig deeper into any of it and continue with the obvious minefield of a topic.
The man behind the steering wheel seems to catch up on the subtle sign, a slight smile being his only reply.
Pity floods the vehicle, taunts him and makes the tight loop around his heart pull. Rin despises it more than anything else. There’s not much that’s left to do about it besides biting back on his tongue and leaning back into the seat.
It’s peaceful for the rest of the hour-long drive. Starry skies invite him to look out the window, gaze growing unfocused with exhaustion and thoughts that race through his mind with the speed of light. If he focused hard enough he’d be able to actually hear the whispers of shame.
He wishes there was a way to silence that, tune out the taunting like the driver did to the radio upon noticing the striker’s tired look.
Come to think of it, Rin’s therapist did say it’ll take some time – long hours spent dwelling over his notepad, trying to reach inside to grasp his ego and the issues that burn at it the most, only to scribble them down on the paper and try to voice them out in the office a few days later. He’s never been good with communication or speaking his mind, at least not in the conventional way that won’t leave the recipient in tears or shock, but he managed, somehow. He got his point across and his therapist even claimed having seen worse. It’s uncertain how much of it was honest but the thought alone leaves Rin realizing that he has again taken the very route of thought he’s supposed to watch out for.
Rin appreciates people, to some extent, especially those who carry the same work ethic as he does. Perhaps it was a part of the therapist’s job, but something rubbed him the wrong way about the final session that took place a while ago. The man knew these words would seep into every crevice of Rin’s mind, sit heavy on his heart, and that’s why the whole ordeal was abruptly cut short – cause he couldn’t, didn’t want to hear any of it anymore.
Not everyone has ill intentions, Rin. As long as you’re hung up on what your brother did, you’ll have a hard time trusting others. We’ve been seeing each other for long enough to let me say that I know you don’t want to admit it, but trust me when I say, you should, sooner or later.
The car comes to a stop right by the curb. Warm, yellowish light seeps through the familiar windows and hits the sidewalk. Familiarity washes over Rin like a tide but does little to ease the discomfort growing in his chest.
He blinks once, pulled from his thoughts.
“There you go.” The driver glances at him over his shoulder and unbuckles himself, about to help him with his suitcase but is stopped by a wave of Rin’s hand.
“S’okay. Thank you.”
He hums and fishes for his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a bill and places it in the man’s hand, undoing his seat belt and opening the door, ignoring the small sound of protest his generous tip elicited.
Rin gets out of the vehicle, careful as he shifts his weight to the wounded ankle, and takes his suitcase out from the trunk. There’s a harsh thud as the wheels hit the ground and a complimenting soft puff, heavy scent of smoke filling his lungs. He glances up at the elderly man, who now stands by the driver’s door and takes a drag of his cigarette. The guy’s a little unusual, Rin noticed, with how easy-going he was being ever since picking him up from the airport. (He’s never accepting a recommendation from Ryusei again.)
No matter what he does and despite his best efforts, there will always be a pair of eyes trained on him at all times. It’s little difference whether it’s the field or the streets of Kamakura.
He holds the eye contact, waits for the man to speak. It comes with an exhale, a cloud of white reaching him from across the car.
“Good night, Itoshi-san.” Rin feels his eye twitch. It’s a conscious choice not to frown “Get well soon.”
Cold breeze seeps under his jacket and sends shivers down his back, aching and slightly hunched. It’s a contrast to the bubbling, stinging bitterness that begins to eat away at his insides, but the mixture altogether makes Rin feel like hyperventilating.
He bites his tongue and tastes iron.
It’s a wise choice to just give a small nod and turn on his heel, stepping away towards where he can faintly make out his mother’s voice from inside the house. A half his lifetime’s worth of memories waits behind the mahogany door and makes it all the harder to believe it - the warm smiles sent his way, earnest wishes spoken with the purest intentions.
His best (and only) option is to at least try.
By the time Rin’s suitcase is put down by the bed in his old bedroom and he’s clad in a set of hoodie and sweatpants, sat down at the dining table and slurping up the last sips of miso soup, the uneasy feeling is nowhere to be found anymore.
(Or at least, he’s succeeded in pushing it to the very back of his mind, until it’s barely a hushed hum. He’s grown experienced in ignoring it.)
His mum insisted on hearing about everything that took place throughout the last few months he’s spent back in Paris – but to be fair, there’s not much to tell her, Rin realized. He’s signed a couple new brand deals, yeah, and got a proposition from another prestige club – this time over in England, but it wasn’t anywhere near the salary that he had his eye on. But that’s about it, and there’s not much gossip he could indulge his mother in – even though he knows she wishes there was. (She’s always been playful with him – both of his parents were, actually. They know it riles their second-born up, but know it’s sportive – and that he doesn’t really mind. Not if it’s them, that is. He’ll indulge them in whatever fantasy of their family they’ve made up.)
“I thought you’d surprise us with something, Rin.” His mum quips, taking the bowl from his hands to wash up.
From his seat across the table, his dad breathes out a laugh.
“Don’t you think we’ve had enough surprises this year already?”
Ah.
Teal eyes follow his father’s, to where he gives his wife a look. The woman turns around, a cloth in hand as she dries off a cutting board, and there’s a bit of confusion before her whole face lights up.
“Now that will be hard to top!” Another laugh, leaving him the only unamused one in the room. Not that it doesn’t happen often. “Oh, god. I still cannot believe it.” She sounds excited, very much so, and it leaves a bitter taste on Rin’s tongue, enough to sour his mood and brew the tense feeling deep in his stomach all over again.
He knew, fuck of course he knew there was no way of escaping it. And yet, he was still gullible enough to hope that the holidays would pass without as much as a single mention of it.
“I can’t wait until Sae comes and tells us all about it. You know how he is through the phone- couldn’t get a proper word out of him, but I need to know everything.”
He really tries to fight back the furrow of his brows, for his mother’s sake. It’s only natural she’s excited, a spark in his eyes that he remembers seeing only on the most special occasions. Him getting into Blue Lock, then being selected for the U-20 national team. Him having to move overseas, signing a contract that stuck millions to his name.
(He vaguely recalls the same look plastered on her face when she received the call from Sae’s manager, back when they were kids – the call that would be the beginning of their downfall. Of course he remembers. But, since there’s discomfort already eating away at his chest, he decides to ignore the memory instead. He’s no masochist.)
It’s self-explanatory that she has the same, bright grin spread over her features when she speaks about her oldest son’s engagement.
Sae is engaged – soon to be married.
Sae, the last person he’d ever think is capable of love.
Sae, who’s so harsh and focused on himself, who he’s seen disregard every little speck of affection thrown his way for years.
And fuck does it sound unbelievable – until there’s a certain face flashing in the front of his mind, a pair of bright eyes and a pretty sweet smile that’s enough to make his palms clammy. Until he remembers the only person who can easily melt anyone’s heart – even his brother’s.
Even his o–
He only ever realizes he’d zoned out again when an engine roars softly outside the house, the sound promptly coming to a halt. There’s a sequence of car doors shutting, quiet talking, a trunk being opened.
“Oh! They’re here!”
Rin’s eyes follow his mother as she glances out the kitchen window and tosses the rag down on the counter, jogging over to the front door as the voices grow louder. His dad gets up from his seat as well, much less energetic, but there’s a smile on his lips that mirrors his wife’s–
Rin feels out of place. Terribly so.
It doesn’t fit, the uneasy jitter in his chest that’s such a harsh contrast to the warmth that his parents are about to engulf you and Sae in.
The difference between what he’s feeling compared to them is like nails on a chalkboard, he thinks – and the second he sees the agonizingly familiar head of red hair enter his vision, he shudders as if the sharp sound actually resonates through the room.
It’s not there, but the contrast he’s seeing with his very own eyes is even worse. Sae, in his black sweatpants and a Real Madrid hoodie, with a look on his face that’s so well-rested, it’s unlike anything he’s seen on him lately (even just on the TV screen); and standing right by his side is you. Rin notices you’re too engrossed in tugging your suitcase inside and welcoming his parents, and so, he uses the moment to roll his eyes up your body - the Ugg slippers, beige leggings, a white zip-up fitness jacket, and finally, your face. Dressed in all white, he wonders if you’re doing it on purpose.
It’s a divergence that makes him uneasy. The devil himself, looking far too comfortable with an angel right by his side, with a smile kind enough
There’s not even one reason for you not to be this joyful, but Rin selfishly wishes there was. It’s a selfish thought but a deliberate one all the same. He wishes that you look this happy, standing next to the very same person behind everything miserable in his life. He wishes to understand, for a way to cut through the dissonance that sits heavy in his head and gives birth to a headache – but it’s been years, fruitless and disappointing.
Rin only ever realizes he’s still stuck in his seat when his father’s eyes meet his own from a few feet away. It’s not judging per se, more so urging him on to at least pretend, for his mother’s sake. He reads right through it.
He exhales shortly and pushes his chair back with a sound that brings your conversation to a halt. He feels like a martyr when he steps closer to where everyone is standing and feels four pairs of eyes watching him. It makes him want to roll his eyes. (He almost does.)
Sae doesn’t bother to acknowledge him, not even with a show of a smile. He looks up, a fleeting glance to Rin’s face, before nodding his head once.
“Hey, Rin.” He hums, as indifferent as ever “It’s been a while.”
“It has.” Rin agrees, shrugging as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his sweatpants. His hands start to ache, fingers twitching. It’s uncomfortable, the way his body tries to provoke a reaction, a way to unload the stress.
Both brothers ignore the way their mum winces at the tension that resonates between the two, how it’s thick enough to suffocate everyone and make them shudder with unease. But no matter how earnest Rin’s attempts are, no matter how hard he tries, he cannot bewitch reality. Instead, a soft hum, warm and sticky-sweet, shatters the ridiculously loud silence.
You’re here too, after all. A savior of sorts.
“A while too long,” The smile you offer him makes Rin want to scream. His chest swells, more unconsciously than not, and his gaze softens, almost instinctively when his eyes drink up your mellow expression “It’s been a year for sure, hm?”
It must be a joke, Rin thinks. How someone who could put down any chaos with their gentle smile stay glued by the hip to a person who makes the world crumble all over again with a single look?
(A joke, or perhaps, a perfectly complete puzzle that keeps the universe intact. If it’s insanity to wish to see it crack and collapse, he’s unashamed to admit it.)
Just when their father gives a slight chuckle, reaches a hand to pat your back, and gives a reassuring rub to your shoulder, Sae clears his throat. With one hand reaching for the suitcase’s handle, he maneuvers it down, as if in thought.
“Was it?” He wonders, the bark worse than the bite as always. Sae’s eyes fall to the floor and though Rin knows he can’t really see it, he knows where he’s looking- and that he’s about to make the injury even worse “Look at that. You’ve got yourself hurt again.”
It’s patronizing. It’s demeaning, it’s anything but just a playful quip of one brother to another, and it makes Rin’s eye twitch. He knows Sae’s known this already but he could see it coming from miles away. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.
He opens his mouth to speak, “Will you shu–”
You inhale sharply, cutting him off halfway.
“Oi, oi,” you give Sae’s arm a light smack, “you’re being mean. Stop.” There’s a glint of something in your eyes when you give your fiance a look and Rin’s not entirely sure what it is, but he watches in astonishment as it shuts the elder up. You turn your head his way again.
You offer him a smile, a bit meek and unsure considering the jab Sae’s made seconds earlier. You spare his ankle just a short glance but apparently decide not to speak up on it before you open your arms for a welcome embrace. “Hi, Rin.”
It’s a simple gesture, really. It’s enough to make him feel like a dumb, hopeless teenager, head over heels for a girl beyond his reach.
It’s hard for him to wrap his mind around how you’re so sympathetic, understanding and warm while seemingly not even trying. He used to ponder if it’s why you chose this career path over any other and knows for sure that it’s why you’re the best at it. You never insist, never push, never inquire – not unless you need to, with the referee’s whistle ringing in your ears and a handful of sweaty, loud men standing right over your head as you work your magic.
It’s no wonder every club wants you as their physio.
Rin’s gotten a chance to feel your hand expertly move on his own skin before. He remembers it clear as a day, though one could think it was seemingly just yet another time he’s gone down on the field. This game proved to be different, though – bizarre in its own right, leaving him with an unsatiable itch.
Every game between Real Madrid and Paris X Gen attracted a lot of attention, just like it generated a spike in Rin’s stress levels. It was a tough game to begin with but facing off against Sae made it a game to remember every single time. Everyone knew the game would be worthwhile – a guaranteed showcase of talent and hard work, a fiend between two brothers, both equally gifted and loudly rumored to be conflicted for years now. The pressure would be enough to knock anyone off their feet, but he could withstand it. It’s the only way he has ever known. Face it. Endure it. Make him eat dirt – show him that you can bite just as hard.
That day, Rin was certain he’d never seen a situation so absurd and unfortunate. Throughout his years as a professional, he was an eyewitness to many fouls and injuries, some more gruesome and fatal than others. But to have three players go down at the same time, two of them from the same team, was not something that’d happen all too often. Rin was aware of his teammate’s fault but wouldn’t dare scold him – not when he’s lying on the turf and gripping his knee tight, the joint stuck at an angle that has Rin wincing at the sight alone. It’s bad, so, so bad, he thinks, watching as the other player struggles to get up with his teammates’ help. Chaos ensues, paramedics jogging over to the scene and putting down all of their necessities and there’s so much of it, there’s barely any space between him and the other player anymore. Rin knows better than to disturb, staying silent despite his position as captain as both teams grow loud and erratic, wild and belligerent. Rin’s eyes follow the ref as he works on subsiding the uproar. It’s a hard job – adrenaline at an all time high – but doesn’t want to spare it any more thoughts. Not when he has a worry of his own, a sharp pain in his ankle that makes him nauseous.
“Are you okay?”
He hears a familiar voice, a soft tune that brings him back afloat. His heart hammers in his chest, blood hot in his veins as he props himself up, hand tight on his sprained joint. He looks up and meets your eyes, wide but focused as your line of sight reaches his ankle.
“I–” Rin hesitates, eyes slightly bewildered as they follow your movements. You crouch down right next to him and pull out a few necessary items from the med kit. An ice pack, he recognizes, a bandage, a stabilizer– “S’probably just a stamp.”
You hum, teeth sunk in your bottom lip as you carefully peel the sock down to reveal the bruised flesh. “Pain? On a scale of one to ten?” You spare him a quick look, delicate fingers gently pressing along the swollen skin.
Rin grunts, fights back the urge to pull his leg away. “Six.”
With a nod, you work on untying his cleat, pulling it down along with the sock, “Sprained.” You simply point out, and his eyes widen. Your judgment’s quick, scarily so, and he’d hope that maybe you’re wrong – but the certainty in your eyes speaks for itself. He’s never seen you this serious, gaze sharp and movements swift, but then again, it’s the very first time he sees you at work. So far, he’s only ever seen you hanging on Sae’s arm, all smiles and laughter as you attend a family event together.
To have Sae’s girl tend to him like that almost feels like a blow.
“Wait, shit–” Rin’s brows furrow as he shifts, restless. You give him an attentive look. “Hold on. Aren’t you supposed to–”
“Your team’s busy.” You interrupt, eliciting a hiss from the striker as you work the bandage around the sole of his feet, and then stabilize it around his ankle. “He’s got a concussion and misses a tooth or two. All on top of his kneecap popping out.” Rin stiffens, eyes involuntarily searching for his teammate. He sees him being handled onto the stretcher, holding his hands over his head, groans and cries reaching his ears and it makes his heart drop.
You plop the icepack on top of his ankle and bring his focus back to you. “I don’t care who I’m with. I’m here to help.” You offer a small smile though something’s telling you it won’t give much reassurance. You know your boyfriend’s brother – heard all about him and encountered him numerous times before. Most of all, you’ve seen the burning passion behind his eyes as he steps onto the turf. He’s not backing down. You pick your words carefully but say them firmly as ever. “I’m sorry, Rin, but you’re off.”
Rin vaguely remembers the protest that rose deep within his chest, making his blood boil as you helped him up. He knew better than to stand his ground and try to pretend that it’s not a big deal, knew all the possible consequences too well to act so stubbornly. He put years of such behavior behind him a while ago. He remembers the worried expression flashing across your features as your eyes met upon him plopping down on the bench – he saw it all, the compassion with pity yet to come.
It never did.
You only left him with a heartfelt look, warm and kind, and confusion blossoming in his chest, growing on top of the uncertainty and anger.
You’re always like this, Rin realizes. Always so collected and warmhearted, only ever welcoming him with hospitality and genuine worry, never pitying him. You’ve never given him any sort of look that he’s known to despise.
He wishes you could be this way with him only, so attentive and sweet. It’s selfish but he does not necessarily hate the thought, or himself for embracing it so freely for that matter.
His desire has been running rampant for a while now. It should be a shameful realization but though Rin’s never been particularly in tune with his emotions, he knows it really isn’t. He’s smarter than he looks (though no one really would think otherwise) – he knows you’re not his and never will be. He’s painfully aware of the only reason you ever rushed over to him, despite being the rival team’s assigned physiotherapist, and how it’s your awfully big heart, aching to help and bring comfort.
There’s plenty of space here. None of it belongs to him.
The memory vaguely plays out in his mind as he inhales your scent, the irritation subsiding and making way for the annoyingly fuzzy feeling. It’s been a year or even more. Long months since he’s last seen you and since you became engraved deep into his mind, his source of all kinds of thrills, some more disgraceful than others.
Throughout the years you’ve been with Sae, he never even thought to spare you a second glance. But ever since you treated him so kindly, looked at him with such warmth, he selfishly wishes he was the one giving you the Itoshi name instead.
He wraps his arms around your frame and gives it a gentle squeeze as if his head isn’t bursting at the seams with rumination, greeting you with a rub on the back.
It’s only good decorum to greet you properly like this but Rin considers it a small mercy, getting a chance to feel your scent again.
Your hand rests on his back, fingers flexing on the sturdy muscle a bit, before pulling away entirely. You beam up at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as your head tilts with a smile. For a second, Rin thinks you might want to say something else, tell him more (talk to him sweetly just for a little longer, like he so desperately desires) – but you opt not to, and instead, turn to face his brother again. “I’ll put these away,” You say, reaching for his suitcase. “And hop in the shower. I stink like the airport.”
The way you scrunch your nose makes Rin’s mouth twitch with a ghost of a smile.
“Sure,” Sae hands you off the luggage, but only after leaning in to give your lips a quick peck. “I’ll grab you a snack, okay?”
“M'kay,” you give a breathy giggle at the action, and Rin realizes he might be far behind in being familiar with the ridiculous ways you’ve changed his brother.
This look, lovesick and full of adoration, is one that he’s never seen on his older brother before. He can’t make up his mind on how it makes him feel.
His mom offers to remind you where Sae’s old room, as well as the bathroom, are and ushers you off with a few gentle touches and laughter that disappears down the corridor. His dad leaves to boil the kettle to make some tea, and for barely a few beats of silence, it’s just the two of them standing there. One craning his head slightly upwards, the other glaring down, the two brothers stare each other down – and Rin hates it, hates the way he has to swallow the knot in his throat and tear his gaze away. It’s a show of taking the higher ground as he only makes a slight face and then turns on his heel to leave the room altogether.
When his dad returns to the conjoined area, balancing three mugs in one hand and holding up the full pot in the other, he doesn’t seem all that surprised to see just Sae standing there, pulling his hoodie off and throwing it over the chair silently.
The man sighs, setting down the dishes, and only looks up when Sae breathes out a laugh, humorless and dry.
“Just like the old times.”
Rin is not sure how long he’s been scrolling down his phone, or how much time has passed since he first plopped down on the king-sized bed in his old bedroom. It didn’t have to take long, but sleep is starting to weigh down on his lids already, leaving him with a cottonmouth and he tears a slight grunt from his throat upon realizing that the whole water bottle he’d drank is now pressing against his bladder uncomfortably.
Tossing the phone away and propping himself up, Rin feels the tired muscles in his arm strain as he digs the palm of his other hand into his eyes, rubbing the exhaustion away. It works just enough to ease the slight sting, feet planted onto the ground as he gets up and strides across the dark room.
It must’ve been an hour, two tops, he supposes, reaching for the handle. The voices on the other side of the door have grown softer and he vaguely makes out the voices to be Sae’s and his father’s, probably still talking over yet another round of tea. It would make sense for everyone else to be asleep, as his mom was always an early sleeper, and you lookied quite worn out back in the living room. You’ve probably dozed right off as soon as you hit the bed, all warm and comfortable from your shower.
Rin pushes the door open and finds himself jolting in surprise when his eyes fall on your face. You pull at the door using the same momentum and if the way your mouth falls agape is anything to go by, you’re just as shocked to see him.
It wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, just another encounter to laugh off by tomorrow morning’s cup of coffee. But the way you peer up at him – doe eyes wide and startled, a single rivulet of water streaming down your flushed cheeks as damp hair sticks to your forehead – knocks the breath out of his lungs.
His gaze follows the lonely droplet’s path between your collarbones, then down the valley of your breasts. You’re warm, just like he’d thought, but also very much bare except for the fluffy white towel you’re clutching oh, so tightly to your heated skin. A meek sound of surprise catches in your throat and Rin has to bite back a groan as the sharp movement only makes your tits press against each other even tighter. “Hah– o-oh, huh, I’m sorry– thought Sae’s room was–”
Rin cuts off the jumble of words, “It’s right across.” He corrects, voice a gravelly tune that has your knees knocking together in a sheepish buckle. Your cheeks scorch, blood rushing to the soft flesh and you feel like a fish pulled right out of water, gaping up at the tall man. “Excuse me.”
You’re not entirely too sure why Rin’s attitude towards you took such a turn – but the way he pushes past you, tough muscle bumping against your finer frame, has you yelping in surprise. You jerk a little when the bathroom door slams shut and turn to look behind yourself, a soft furrow to your brows, but ultimately decide to get back to the right room this time before the sheer embarrassment eats you alive.
On the other side of the door, Rin grabs at the sink with one hand, keeping balance as he peels his sweatpants off. His head feels heavy, hanging between his shoulders as he tugs his boxers down along with his pants, then stands back on two feet and tugs off his sweatshirt, grip tight on the fabric.
It’s almost ridiculous, the way his heart hammers in his chest as if he didn’t know any better. The familiar, unbearable throb between his thighs feels like a sin. To some extent, it must be one, Rin realizes. He can be a martyr and a sinner all the same. He couldn’t care any less, either.
It’s a joke, all of it, he thinks as he steps into the shower yet again tonight. The water is instantly warm as soon as he turns it on, a remnant of your bath, he supposes, but the spray isn’t meant to bring him any comfort this time. Most importantly, it’s a sheer white noise that makes his thought a little more bearable. It works very little to soothe his strained and taut muscles as his back flexes when he reaches his hand down, fingers wrapping around the throbbing girth, but silences his grunt of relief perfectly.
Rin’s pretty sure it’s some sick joke at his expense by the time he shuts his eyes, a groan stuck somewhere deep inside of his chest, where he can swallow it down and keep it untraceable. All of it has to be some sort of get back, a play at his willpower and conscience for all the fucked up shit he’s done so far in life. (Just how bad did he fuck up to deserve this – to face someone like you, an unbearable temptation, a lure strong enough to break a saint?)
Not everyone has ill intentions, but Rin’s certain he does. There’s no other way to describe the sensation licking at his spine – the lust for your flesh, the desire to keep you close. It’s raw and shameful, enough to overwhelm him, let alone a being as sweet and darling as you. He wishes the realization didn’t have to come like this, as he’s gasping for air, nearly doubling over in the steamy shower.
There’s no space for forgiveness, but there is for revenge. It becomes clear as ever when Rin spills himself all over the tiles, a moan of your name mixing in with the steam as all sense of morality goes down the drain.
© 2023 grinmjows. do not copy any writing or layouts; do not repost/mention my works on other social media. chain divider by @/cafekitsune. this is a remastered repost from my previous blog.
─ The two of you have argued before, there was nothing new or strange about it. Sometimes, though not very often, you'd get upset at something he had said or done. He’d act without thinking, or speak without consideration; words sharpened by negligence, actions spurred on without thought.
Like a wheel that is fated to see no end, spinning and turning on its axis — over and over, again and again — you watch the cycle of anger unfold. He’d drag a hand across his face and tell you to stop overreacting. You’d get irritated and he’d change his tone with you. Lower. Stricter. Harsher.
“This was nothing” or “That didn’t mean anything,” — “You’re overthinking,” he’d say.
And though it was a vicious cycle, patient and damning, you’d learned to adapt to its maliciousness; to the parts of it that drew out the worst in you. You’ve molded yourself to its shape and tried to understand where it stemmed from. Twisting and turning, pulling and pushing — the worst parts of him met the miserable parts of you.
You tried. You really did try.
But the carelessness in which he'd started to approach said arguments was new, and his dismissive manner was starting to thin your patience.
He ignores you as you walk behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides in the heels you’d worn for the night.
“Why won’t you listen to me?” You plead with him as he stops abruptly at the penthouse door, shoving the key into the slot aggressively. You were getting tired of arguing about the same thing — worn out from having to bring it up so often. Why wouldn’t he listen? Why did he refuse to understand?
The door had just barely closed behind you, when he turns around, slamming the wall beside your head with a heavy hand.
“Enough.”
Ran’s eyes are filled with fury and impatience as he stares down at you. A terrible rage fills his lavender hues and you hesitate. There was no room for your anger in this house. No room for you when he was so domineering and present. He’s never been this loud with you — has never been so upset or mean. His tone startles you.
And though you’ve argued before, though you’ve disagreed at times, you find that you don’t know how to deal with his anger — anger that has never been directed towards you to this extent. You just don’t know.
It’s unsettling. There's a hole in your chest that is torn open, a passiveness settling inside.
You’re upset that he has consistently brushed you and your concerns off to the side. You’re upset that your worry had been interpreted as childish jealousy. You’re upset that the only time he had decided to take you seriously was to yell at you — to shut you up.
He runs a hand through his hair as he pulls back and heads to the kitchen, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it onto the couch. He leans against the counter and lights a cigarette in an attempt to calm his nerves.
He'd expected you to start crying — half expected you to apologize even. You never liked fighting with him. He was never one to blow any argument out of proportion either. But this — this had to stop. No matter how many times he’d dismissed it, no matter how many times he’d told you not to worry about it, you still brought her up. Enough was enough. He looks up at you briefly, eyes flickering towards you as he exhales.
There's a blank look in your eyes, a fragmentation he couldn’t understand. It felt as though you were looking through him. The parts of you that sought to intertwine with him and understand — that hollowed themselves out to make room for him — they fall back in defeat.
Your eyes aren't glassy; they don’t even sparkle.
He clenches his jaw and looks away. Guilt and haunt reach for his throat, as he shakily exhales the smoke.
You turn around, hand reaching for the wall as you bend to unclasp your heels. The right shoe comes off first. The left one follows after. He watches as you walk away with the shoes in your hand, fingers threading through the straps.
You don't say a word. He doesn't hear you make a sound.
The cold air of the restroom makes you aware of the slight wetness on your cheek. You stare at your reflection and you can’t help but wonder if the woman in the mirror was in the wrong. Were her feelings misguided by insecurity? Was her envy so green and her thoughts so vile? You tell her not to worry; that it’ll all be alright. You stare at your bruised toes as you fidget and sigh. You don’t even have it in you to cry.
You spend time with the other woman, washing away her fury; cleaning her anguish. Her breathing has steadied and she watches you from beyond the mirror as you wipe at your face, baring yourself to her. She’s satisfied and you turn your back on her temporary satisfaction, slipping into a loose dress and finding your place on the bed.
He hasn’t bothered to come check up on you. To apologize to you.
You push her nagging voice out of your head, stretching your legs out and picking up your phone instead. You scroll mindlessly for a minute or so before you decide to call a friend. It’ll help distract you, you think. You’ll call your dearest friend and she’ll make you laugh. You’ll laugh and you’ll smile and the filth encompassing your heart will wither away at your joy.
Yes, that’s it. That’s exactly what you’ll do.
“Hello?” She says.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
Silence from your end.
A minute. Then two.
“Ah, I get it. Do you want me to pick you up? We can go eat somewhere.”
“Yes, please.” You aren’t hungry at all. She knows that too.
“Give me 20 minutes, I’m finishing up a shift right now.”
“Okay.”
More silence, this time from her end. Another minute. Another two.
“Did he…he didn’t hurt you, right?”
You shake your head, the rustling making its way over to her end.
“No, never. Not physically at least.” You try to smile, but the other woman insists on tugging at the corners of your mouth, pulling them down.
‘Break,' she says. ‘Break and ruin,' she wants to scream.
You hear a dramatized sigh of relief through the phone.
“Ah, thank God. That bastard scares the shit out of me, honestly. But I’ll kill him if he ever lays a hand on you, you know that, don’t you?”
You laugh and she smiles.
“He wouldn’t, I promise. He isn’t so bad.”
“You’re not seriously defending him right now, are you?”
You find it in you to laugh a little harder. She bids you a temporary farewell and you feel a little lighter. This is okay. It'd be okay if you both took a break…if you were separated from one another for a little — just until you were both able to calm down and think things through.
You stand and rummage through your nightstand, putting a few things in the nearest tote bag and pulling it up over your shoulder. A light cardigan is folded over your arms as you quietly leave the bedroom. Ran is still in the kitchen, leaning over the island as he wipes a hand over his face. There's a glass of water beside him. You think he's trying to sober up, even though he didn't drink much at all.
He looks up at the sound of your feet against the tile and his eyes soften at the sight of you. He’d been waiting for you to come out of the room, not wanting to push you too far. Still, you won't meet his gaze.
It’s then that his line of sight falls to the bag on your shoulder. Panic fills the emptiness he’d been left with since you’d walked away.
"What're you…No, wait a second. Hold on —"
He rounds the corner and slowly approaches you.
"Wait, we can talk about this."
Your brows furrow as you slip on your shoes, voice soft as you respond.
"You said you didn't want to anymore."
Defeat, he thinks. Defeat is what laces your tone…like you’ve given up on him. On you and him.
"No,” He shakes his head as he steps a little closer to you. “We can talk about it. Let's talk about it, baby."
His eyes are trying to read you in a panicked frenzy, but still, you won't look at him. You take a step back, grip tightening on the strap of your bag.
“I think,” you bite your lip, brows furrowing as you try to find the right words. “I think it's best if I spend the night somewhere else."
“Fuck no.”
You hold a hand out, a weak attempt at stopping him from getting any closer. He steps forward. You step back. He reaches out for you and you deny him.
“Come on, love. Please.”
What you say next comes out of you so quietly — so dismissively — had he not been so close to you, he might’ve missed it. You find it in you to finally meet his gaze as you utter the word.
"Enough."
His karma comes in the form of six letters — the ones he’d spat at you so harshly less than an hour ago. But you’re still kind, even now. How quietly the word tumbled from your lips, how beautiful you were in all your anguish. His karma grins at his misery, and rejoices at his self-induced tragedy.
"Please," he begs.
How pitiful. How cruel.
He grips your wrist when you turn to open the door, caging you in between his arms.
"Don't," he pleads.
You try to turn in his arms, tugging at his rolled-up sleeves, nails scratching at tattooed skin. His biceps flex as he holds you to him tighter. Closer. Don’t go. Don’t leave. You feel the rise and fall of his chest behind you — the racing of his heart as he holds you against him. You sigh, deciding to ease his mind.
"I’ll come back, Ran. Just one night.”
"No, no. Don't walk out on me."
He shakes his head at the thought, in misery and denial at its implication.
“I'm sorry."
He apologizes and you freeze in his hold, fingers stilling against his forearms.
“I'm sorry," He says again. "I won’t raise my voice at you again. I'll never talk to her again. Won't even look at her, baby. I’ll cut all ties right now. Please just don’t go."
He keeps one arm wrapped around you as he reaches for his back pocket, pulling his phone out in the process. You blink, watching as he brings the device over to you, his fingers unlocking the screen as he looks over your shoulder, chin propped against you. You watch as he removes her from his Facebook. You watch as he blocks her on Instagram. You watch as he goes to delete her number. It’s then that you start to cry. You cry so hard, your shoulders tremble and your hands shake. You cry and you cry until you're overcome with the urge to vomit.
“Don’t cry, love. Don’t cry. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
How did he let it get this bad? To ignore the pleas and worries of the one that gave him reason and meaning for the sake of maintaining a business relationship he didn’t give a shit about ─ To brush your pain off for the sake of an organization that only brought him misery...The twisted cynicism was almost laughable. Over and over, you'd asked him to listen to you. And over and over, he’d dismissed you.
It's his fault. It's all his fault.
No one else but him.
His arms fall to his sides and he stands there, watching you.
You wipe at your cheeks haphazardly. His hands tremble as you step back.
"All I asked was for you to establish clear boundaries with her."
Your hands shake as you point an accusatory finger at him. Your breathing falters, salty tears meeting your tongue as you try to find your words.
The other woman licks at your wounds. 'Destroy him,' she says. ‘Leave him,’ she whispers. You dig your nails into the skin of your palm at the violence of her words.
"But you made me seem like I was crazy for wanting that."
His eyes widen as he stares at you.
No longer covered in the green of her envy and guilt, she lines you with her red. You become one with your sorrow and fury.
"Why couldn't you establish one simple boundary until I was about to walk out? What kind of girlfriend is supposed to be okay with seeing another woman press herself up against her boyfriend?"
You quiet for a moment, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand and his heart breaks at the sight of your stuttered breathing and tear-stained face.
"Cutting her off means nothing. Not when you brushed me off every time I brought it up.”
“Love ─,”
You cut him off, mumbling to yourself as you pick at the skin of your nails.
"God forbid someone even looks my way. But with you —" you snort and it's void of any emotion.
His face darkens at that.
"Watch your mouth," He steps closer.
You look away.
Lithe fingers grip your jaw tightly, forcing you to look up at him — into his eyes. Eyes that only desire you, that only love and lust after you. You, you, you. Always you. Only you.
She was nothing more than an old Bonten business partner, but you? You were everything.
He presses his lips to yours. Neither of you wavers in closing your eyes, the haziness of his own meeting with the anger in your irises, but he kisses you anyway. He kisses you and he kisses you. You don't kiss back.
The bag slips off your shoulder and you move to lift it back up. He refuses to let go of your jaw, lips moving against yours as he speaks.
"I love you."
"Liar," you whisper against him.
He groans and kisses you harder.
"God, I love you."
You shake your head in his grip but his hands are firm, squeezing your cheeks lightly, forcing your lips into a subtle pout.
"Get this shit off already." He pulls your bag down to the floor and throws you over his shoulder.
“I don’t want to stay here tonight.”
“Yeah? Where exactly were you gonna go?” He squeezes your hip as he walks towards the bedroom. He knows the answer, knows you would’ve been safe had you actually left. You might have smiled more tonight had he let you go with your friend; might’ve been spared of the tears you’d shed instead. But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t let you go.
You rub at your eyes in exhaustion.
“I’m not sleeping beside you. I don’t want you.”
He smacks your ass harshly before sliding a palm beneath your slip, stroking the skin gently.
"You're a liar, baby."
Please be lying, baby.
You grip his shirt to keep from falling.
"I hate you,” You whisper out.
He tightens his hold on your waist.
"No, you don't, princess."
His voice is low, strained. He prays you don’t hear the tremble in his tone.
He sits you down onto the bed, kneeling before you on the floor. You go to pull your legs up but he stops you, palms gripping your ankles as he places his forehead onto your knees.
“Don’t leave me.”
The room is quiet, save for the low hum of the humidifier he’d forgotten to turn off before the two of you left. It’s a steady sound — soothing in its own right. You don’t say anything as his fingers rub at your calves, as he nuzzles his face into your skin.
"I’ll do anything.”
You’re stunned into a deeper silence, staring down at him in shock. It’s laughable really, how terrifying he is to others. Tall and threatening, dark eyes and a prideful smile — the Bonten executive’s standing was respected by most. Feared by all.
And here he is, kneeling before his girlfriend, begging her to stay.
You bring a hand down to brush through lavender strands, releasing a shaky breath, as you play with his hair. You speak and your voice is soft, not disturbing the still air around you. He freezes, listening intently.
“She’s in love with you.”
He can’t help the slight sound of indignation that he lets out.
“No, she’s not. She’s just-”
“Just a business partner. I know.”
There’s a tremble to his hands as he leans forward on his knees, hiding his face in your lap as he grips your waist tight.
“I’ll talk to the rest of the executives tomorrow, we’ll find someone else to ─”
You shake your head.
“That’s not what I’m asking from you.”
He looks up at you in confusion, fingers tight against your hips.
“Then what?”
“I can’t —” You whimper and his heart breaks. “I can’t be with you if she’s going to disrespect me like that, if you’re going to let her disrespect me like that, every time we see her.”
He watches you with a certain softness in his eyes as he climbs up onto the bed beside you.
“What’re you talking about, baby?”
“Is it okay for her to touch you like that? You’re okay with that?”
You pull away from him, folding your legs up to the side as you pick at a piece of lint on the comforter.
He hadn’t thought much of it. The woman in question had been a long-time Bonten business partner, she’d known most of the executives for a decade. Her behaviors and antics, they were all used to it by now, aware that they had to put up with it to build a false sense of trust, to lul her company into an aura of security. Of all the execs to take a liking to, she’d chosen your boyfriend. Expensive nails that didn't belong to you were often wrapped around his bicep during events, and you’d watched off to the side ─ hoping, wishing that he’d say something. Anything.
But nothing ever came out. Nothing was ever said.
And you’d taken the brunt of it. Time and time again.
“I can’t ruin Bonten’s relationship with her,” He had said once, the first time you ever brought it up. “Her company is a pivotal part of our projects.”
Watching her wipe the wine stain from his lips tonight, with you seated right beside him ─ it made you wonder how far she’d gone when you weren’t around. How far she was willing to go? How far would he let her go?
You look away at the thought. The light catches onto your tear stained cheeks and he hates himself.
He furrows his brows as he stares at the pattern you were making on the comforter, the trail your fingers created and left behind. He eyes the bruised skin of your cuticles and the chipped paint of your nails — a telltale sign of your anxiety. How had he missed that? He eyes the missing ring on your right hand and his breath hitches. When had you taken that off?
He feels sick. He’d noticed that you’d declined to go with him to Bonten events as of late. You stopped attending, telling him you were too tired. Too busy. “Another time,” you’d say. “Another time,” he’d smile and agree, kissing your forehead before he made his way out and left you alone.
You’d lied to him to keep from arguing about this anymore, to keep yourself from doubting him. You’d lied and he’d fallen for it — thinking nothing strange of your behavior. And when you’d finally given in, deciding that you missed your boyfriend and that it was well within your right to go out to dinner with him — you had to sit and watch idly as she sat on the other side of him. On this cruel and unforgiving evening, you’d watched as she touched him and stared at him. You’d listened as suggestive jokes were exchanged and loud laughter was thrown across the table. You'd watched with a quiet that only the broken could understand. He’s a fool for not pulling your hand back into his once you’d pulled it out — an idiot for not following after you when you’d excused yourself to go to the restroom. He’s a moron for not seeing the hurt that you were in and the knives that dragged through your skin as he turned a blind eye.
Cold metal is pressed to your skin and you shiver at the feeling of his rings against your cheek. His eyes carry a sadness you don’t recognize.
“You’re my woman. You.”
“Then act like it.”
You move to your side of the bed, turning off your light as you send your friend a text. You’ll explain everything when you see her, you say. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.’
—
You sleep with your back facing him that night. Ran can’t find it in him to sleep at all. He’s scared, terrified that you’ll try to leave in the middle of the night — that you’ll leave just as wordlessly as you let your pain settle into your bones, and that he wouldn’t notice again.
He’d been too careless with you recently. Too comfortable and neglectful.
You turn in your sleep, unconsciously facing him, and he leans up on his arm to watch you. Carefully, gently, he lifts your hand up to meet his lips. Soft kisses are pressed to your knuckles and cuticles, to your palm and wrist.
You don’t stir.
He leans over to press a kiss to your forehead before it becomes too much for him. He’s overwhelmed and it hurts. It hurts to know that you hurt, and it hurts to know that you hurt because of him.
Ran sits up and heads over to the living room, closing the door behind him quietly.
He leans his head back against the couch, arm coming up to cover his eyes. A part of him thinks it’s ridiculous for a man of his power and standing to get worked up over his girlfriend like this. The other part of him doesn’t understand. He’d never been one for long-term relationships. Commitment had never been the issue either. They were just too much. Too much to deal with, too much work to be done — to care and to have to care, to trust, and to be trusted. It was all too much. He never bothered with the matter in its entirety.
But then he met you. And he’d asked you to stay. So you did.
Caring came naturally to him then. Loving was even easier.
He sits alone in this dark room and thinks about you and him. He thinks and he hurts, and he's reminded of the words Sanzu had thrown at him last night. Ran is more than ashamed.
—
“You’re losing her.”
“What’re you on about?” He had said, lighting his coworkers cigarette before leaning back to light his own.
Sanzu had gestured to where you were standing, away from the crowd. You had an arm loosely wrapped around the street pole as you watched the Tokyo night traffic, waiting for your boyfriend to take you home.
“She doesn’t look too happy.”
He frowns at Sanzu’s words, irritated by his comment. For an outsider to speak on his relationship with you, for another man to act like he could read you (and for him to be right about it too), Ran’s blood boils as he crushes the cigarette between his foot. He'd turned to look at you then, at the blank look on your face, wondering briefly just how much you kept to yourself. You had smiled weakly when he took your hand and led you to the garage. You said nothing else for the rest of the car ride. Until he prodded at you. Until it was too much for you to ignore. Until you came to the conclusion that should he want any other woman, you’d rather he let go of you first. Let me go, let me go, let me go. If I’m not enough, please let me go.
He’d gotten pissed at you for that and had sped up his walking once the two of you got out of the car. The front desk personnel lowered their gazes as the two of you walked into the building, and you had quieted down out of respect for your relationship.
─
His stomach churns and he soaks in his self-hatred. You could've reassured her. Could've held her hand a little tighter, could've kissed her a little longer. You fool. He hopes it isn’t too late. He groans and leans forward, running his hands through his hair aggressively as he covers his face with his palms.
He’s too in his own head to notice that you’d woken up — that you’d been standing nervously at the end of the hallway, watching him. He lets out a choked sound and your heart falls victim to his silent pleas. You make your way to him, silently asking to be let into his arms and onto his lap. He startles but quickly makes room for you, staring at you with wide eyes as you place yourself onto his thighs, settling against his chest.
Loving arms wrap around his neck as you turn your face to his chest. Undeserving palms stroke your back, pulling you in by the waist, ever closer.
“I’m sorry.”
He stares down at you in shock at the words you’d chosen to utter.
“What? What’re you –?”
You look at him and the darkness accompanying his eyes ─ at the lilac hues rimmed with red and purple, and subtle traces of blue as his veins surface beneath his skin. He was tired. So tired. Fragile fingers stroke his cheek, finding their way to the fine lines around his mouth. His stubble pricks your palm as he nuzzles his face into your skin. It's fascinating to watch a man of his stature — a man of his strength and power — fall weak to your touch. He wonders if you knew that he’d give up all that he was for a chance at forever with you. The money didn’t mean shit and his position was for naught if it meant you were hurt — if it meant you would leave. ‘If you leave, take me with you,’ his core wants to cry out. His arms wrap around you tighter as he hides his face in your neck and you blink in surprise.
“Why the fuck are you apologizing?”
Your hands find the hairs at the back of his neck, twisting the black and lavender strands, tugging them gently beneath your fingers.
“I don’t want you to hate me.”
He freezes. Your voice muffles against his hold.
“I know you have obligations. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
Or worse, you want to say. I don’t want to get you killed over something so…
You shake your head at the thought.
Even now, you’re still thinking of him? Even now, you’re putting him before you? He thinks it’d be fitting if he were to dig through the earth and call out to the devil himself. With bloody fingers and a dirty face, he’d call out and he’d say, ‘Come get me, come take me. This woman is too good for me.’
“I love you, I trust you. I won’t bring it up anymore.”
You press a kiss to his throat, directly onto his tattoo, before you wrap your arms tighter around his neck, broad shoulders comforting you. He falls in love with you all over again. He keeps one arm firmly wrapped around your waist while the other trails up and down your thigh.
“Baby.”
You hum in acknowledgment, waiting for him to continue.
He pries you off of him, gently setting you down in his place on the couch while you look at him in confusion. You settle into the warmth of where his body once was, watching him curiously.
Ran kneels before you for the second time that night. His head is bowed slightly and his palms are flat against the cotton of his pants
“This is all on me. Not you. I’m sorry, love.”
“Ran, get up.”
You sit up, anxiously reaching for his arms but he shakes his head.
“Please just listen." He swallows, gaze fixed on the ground. "I’m a real shit boyfriend. Put you through so much shit you shouldn’t have to deal with. I know you deserve better.”
So much better.
“But I love you. I need you. I’m selfish and fucked, but I need you. ”
You tilt your head at him as your lip quivers. His shoulders tremble slightly and you reach for his cheeks, hands on either side of his face as you lean forward.
You kiss him then, for the first time all night. A languid kiss. ‘Feel all of me,’ it says. ‘Feel what you do to me.’ His brows furrow as he squeezes the skin of your thighs. You whimper against him and he smiles against your mouth, teeth touching, bones aching.
He pulls you off of the couch by the waist and onto his lap as he embraces you. The two of you find refuge in the floor of the apartment.
You stay on top, seated right on his hips as your tongue meets his. He bites the column of your throat and you tilt your head back in need, giving him access to the skin he wanted to mark.
“I belong to you,” he whispers against your skin. You sigh, fingers in his hair as he kisses and bites, as he licks and whines. He reaches for the palm you had spread against his jaw, moving it to his hips.
“Ah, fuck.”
He groans in your ear at the feeling of your skin against his, at the raw affection exchanged between the two of you. He missed you, he missed you — he doesn’t deserve you. You snap his train of thought in two as you slip your hand into his pants, watching the rise and fall of his sternum. You trail your eyes back to his face and find that he’s already staring at you. One arm reaches back for the collar of his shirt, and you fixate on the flex of his bicep as he tugs it off to reveal his chest.
“My woman,” he grunts.
You nod distractedly, cheeks heating up at the intimacy. Something in him snaps when you slip the straps of your night dress off, lifting the hem to expose your underwear to him.
“Shit, you’re —” He cuts himself off to slip the flimsy cloth to the side. You stroke him as he prods into you, moaning into each other's mouths, staring at each other with desperate eyes. Love and lust and need and want. He wants to fill you with all the words he couldn’t properly say. Again and again, he'd find you. Should he be damned to a fate where you aren't beside him, he'd spend forever looking for you ─ for the home he'd found within you. Never again would he let it get this bad. Never again will he make you feel unwanted or unloved.
“So fuckin’ beautiful.”
He kisses your chest, words vibrating against the skin as he speaks.
“I’m sorry, pretty. I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you.” you cry out as he touches you deeper, rubs at you faster.
“Real shitty guy, aren’t I?” He lets out a strained laugh as your hand falters against him. “Not good for you, am I?”
You shake your head, eyes shut tight as a familiar feeling washes over you.
“I – oh,” You cry out, unable to finish your sentence as you collapse in his arms. “I love you. Please, please.”
“Please what, baby? What is it?”
He lays you down, hovering over you as he bites at your lower lip, appreciating the curve and swell.
You spread your legs and he swears.
“Please.”
“Yeah. Shit, yeah. Anything for you.”
He can’t find it in him to strip you completely. You don’t care enough that his pants are still somewhat on. But with each snap of his hips, he finds you and you find him.
He’s a sorry excuse of a person, a vindictive, hurtful soul. A damaged man with the world at his feet and his heart in your hands. He’d handed it to you himself with a hammer in tow. Should he ever go too far — crush his very spirit and rid of him of whatever is left of his soul.
But he knew. He knew that he’d be forced to sit and watch as you tenderly held the flesh. He’d sit with his legs crossed and his cheek in his palm, watching as you soothed the erratic pulsing.
‘What about the dark spots?’ He had wondered. ‘The filth and the corrupted gloom. How will she handle that? Will she throw them out? Look at them in disgust and try to change them?’
(He receives his answer time and time again — answered over and over by the one person who didn’t realize they were even being questioned.)
He'd watched as you held his heart, with all of its twisted calamities, and placed it right against yours — as if it wasn't stained, as if it wouldn't taint you for as long as you stood. And for the first time in a long, long time, Ran Haitani had resisted the urge to cry.
—
He doesn’t let you go as you try to get up from off the floor.
“I didn’t pull out,” He mumbles. “That’s my bad.”
“I know,” You whisper back, into the darkness of the room.
“Are you baby trapping me?” He lifts an eyebrow, cracking one eye open as he grins at you.
“You’re the one that wouldn’t let me go, perv.”
You flick his forehead and he laughs beside you lazily. The two of you are eye to eye and a complete mess at that.
“I need to go clean up,” you say when he shoots his hand out to your wrist to stop you from standing.
“No, I want to go again.”
“You’ll fall asleep midway.”
He grins and you laugh.
“Hey.”
“Hm?” There’s still a hint of a smile on your face as you pull your gown back into place.
“Tonight…” he turns to face you, eyes heavy with sleep. “I won’t let that happen again.”
You don’t look at him as you fiddle with the straps, tugging at them till they seem somewhat right.
“Look at me.”
He sits and tilts your chin towards him. Hesitance. Worry. (And though you’ve forgiven him, there’s still pain in your eyes.)
“I was in the wrong, and I hurt you for a long time. It won’t happen again.”
You stare back into his eyes — into the aftermath of your apocalypse. You want to tuck him into your ribs, to cage him in and hold him tight. And though he was older and had lived a life that had picked him apart more times than he could count, you don’t think you have it in you to surrender him to the darkness. Your naivety has you following after him eagerly — no matter where he takes you, no matter where you go. You’d pick up the parts he threw out on the way, and you’d ease yourself into the emptiness of his soul. You’d placate his hunger for love and give him a place to belong.
He stares at you, anxiously waiting for a response. All you can do is nod.
He sighs in relief. You kiss his nose softly before you stand, giggling as he groans at your insistence on leaving the confines of his arms. He lays back down as you steady yourself, eyeing your hips before he reaches up to lift the hem of your nightgown, whistling when he eyes the damage he’d done.
“Nasty old man.”
He laughs and it’s full of life – filled with love and joy and you.
“You're into nasty old guys?”
You laugh as you walk away, turning to look at him as he grins at you.
“Just this one.”
He groans as he gets up, long legs chasing after you as you run away. It’s late, much later than he ever liked to stay up. But he’s home. He’s in your arms as he lets you fall back onto the bed, rejoicing in your laughter as he attacks your stomach with sporadic kisses. You’re here, and he’s home.
You lay on your side, holding him to you, as he nods off against your chest. A tattooed arm is thrown over your waist while the other falls slack near your thigh. The pain of the night lingers idly, wondering what will become of itself. You’ve killed the envy inside you, held hands with the fragility of the red woman that had insisted on coming out of you.
Ran Haitani is a large man, not small by any means. But underneath the prying moonlight, you think he looks vulnerable. Men of hurt will only know hurt, while the good of the world remains a foreign entity. He’s lucky, in that sense. There is a woman to hold him as he sleeps, a woman he trusts enough to fall victim to. And if he came home to you covered in blood from head to toe, covered in the sin of the world, baring the weight of their tragedy, he’d stare at you and say “Disgusting, isn’t it?” And he’d watch you shake your head, ‘No’.
“It isn’t so bad.”
sure thing – part two.
pairing: yang jungwon x f reader
genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon
part two word count: 10.8k
warnings: swearing, descriptions/depictions of physical violence, blood and minor injuries, jealousy, a bit of a love triangle I'M SORRY, a kiss or five
note: aaaand here's part two! thank you to everyone that left a comment/reblog on part one. this is the conclusion to the story. suffer with me while we daydream about blonde boxer jungwon and enjoyyyyy ♡
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An employee in the marketing department of a large company, your days are filled with poorly worded emails, unrealistic deadlines, and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. On a particularly awful afternoon, a chance encounter with a coworker from the programming department down the hall is the first thing to make you smile in weeks.
But the more you uncover about Yang Jungwon and his mysterious injuries, flimsy excuses, and always occupied Friday nights, the more you begin to realize that you really don’t know him at all.
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PART TWO
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It’s been a while since you felt anything but dread opening your work inbox.
Monday morning, however, the first message that greets you is a reminder of a time when you did. When you used to keep your email tab open just in the hopes that a certain programmer would send you messages about a jammed printer for you to reread a dozen times.
This time, though, excitement is the last thing you feel. It’s curiosity, more than anything, combined with an urgent need to know what the hell happened between your date and your coworker, that has you clicking on the message.
From: yangj@vesselsoft.co
Subject: Printer Issue
Good morning, ___.
I hope this message finds you well. I am currently trying to resolve an ongoing issue with the workroom printer and was hoping you would be able to provide some input at your earliest convenience.
Thank you in advance,
Jungwon
Part of you wants to archive the message without responding and let him simmer in your rejection.
But spite has never held much weight against curiosity, and despite your better judgment, you soon find yourself walking towards the shared workroom.
As expected, it’s already occupied. This time, however, Jungwon is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order.
There’s a fresh bruise on his forehead, and this time, you don’t wonder where it’s from. It makes sense now. The bruises on his knuckles. The cut on his cheekbone. His seemingly intimate knowledge of head injuries that one fateful Monday afternoon he found you in this very room.
They’re all the result of his hidden hobby, you suppose.
As soon as you enter, some of the rigidity seeps out of his stance. Immediately, his arms fall to his sides, expression softening. “___,” he whispers, like he can’t quite believe you actually came.
Where he softens, however, you cage up.
“You have one minute,” you tell him.
“One minute?” He echoes, brow creasing in confusion.
“One minute to explain what happened Saturday night.”
Jungwon sighs. “I’m sorry. Really, I… I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”
You don’t say anything. An apology is appreciated, yes, but it’s not an explanation.
With your silence, Jungwon continues, “I was just… caught off guard. I didn’t expect to see you there, and especially not with him.”
He pauses for a moment, biting at his lower lip. “Look, ___. I know it probably isn’t my place, but I don’t think he’s being honest with you. Jay isn’t the person that you think he is, and–”
Your scoff cuts through his words, stopping him in his tracks. “That’s funny,” you interrupt. But humor is the last thing on your mind. “He said the exact same thing about you, you know. But it has to be bullshit. I mean, what could have possibly happened in middle school that two adults with jobs are still hung up on a decade later?”
Jungwon’s lips part in surprise. “He told you about middle school?”
“Why?” you prod. “Is there something to know?”
But now you’re at a stalemate, neither of you willing to disclose what exactly you know.
After another beat, Jungwon sighs. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do–”
“Could have fooled me.”
“But I just want you to be careful, okay? It’s… it’s important to me that you’re safe.”
“Safe?” You scoff. “It was a boxing gym. I don’t know why you’re acting like I was trying to push my way into the ring with you.”
“You don’t get it–”
“No.” You throw your hands in exasperation. “I don’t get it. But you’re not explaining it to me. You’re just being evasive and acting like I’m the one in the wrong. So unless you actually have something of substance to say, I’m done having this conversation.”
“____…”
Already halfway to the exit, the sound of your name is lost on you. It’s bad enough that Jay has yet to reach out to you since last night. You absolutely do not need Jungwon bringing this issue into the office as well.
As if on cue, your phone dings with an incoming message.
Half expecting to see a virtual string of apologies from your coworker, you’re mildly surprised to see a different name instead.
You were right about the apologies, though.
Jay: I’m sorry about last night. You were right about deserving an explanation and I want to give you one. I think this is a conversation we should have in person. Are you free Friday night for dinner?
Friday night. Two nights from now. It’s soon enough that you won’t have to stew in resentment, but will give you both the time and space you need to think.
It doesn’t take you long to consider, but you do wait another long minute before giving him the satisfaction of responding.
You: I’ll plan on Friday.
…..
Friday morning comes with a vengeance.
Already teeming with nervous energy at the prospect of your upcoming date with Jay and the conversation that is sure to ensue, you’re a bit of a mess by the time you arrive at work.
Hair windswept, outfit mismatched, lipstick slightly smudged, you already know you’re in for a long day at the office.
But when you arrive at your desk, you find something that softens the blow, just a bit.
Grace, ever the instigator, is already learning over your cubicle by the time you notice it.
“Whew,” she whistles appreciatively. “Someone’s pulling out all the stops.”
And she’s kind of right. The bouquet sitting front and center on your desk is massive. Overflowing with seasonal flowers that already emit a pleasant fragrance even from where you stand. The vase itself it’s gorgeous, too.
Imbued with a myriad of colors, it reminds you a bit of a stained glass window on a sunny afternoon.
Reaching for the small note tucked at the top, you open the envelope with slightly shaky fingers.
___, it reads.
I wish I had more to give you than an apology, but I’ve been told that flowers are a sure thing when it comes to brightening someone’s day. I hope these are able to do that for you.
– J
Frowning, you read it once. Twice.
Jay has already apologized for the incident from a couple of nights ago, and the timing of this second apology seems odd, given your plans for tonight.
You’re left to stand in your own confusion for a moment longer before a text message vibrates your phone in your pocket.
Reaching for it, the flowers suddenly start to make a lot more sense.
Jay: I am so sorry, but I have to reschedule our plans for tonight. It completely slipped my mind, but my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up. I promise to let you know as soon as I can when I’ll be available
Jay: And again, I am so, so sorry
Sighing, you put your phone back in your bag. You can’t blame him. Not really. His sister’s baby shower is undoubtedly an important event, even if the timing is rather unfortunate for you.
Grace, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil, is still gushing about your flowers. Turning to you, she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “So, what are those for? Got a hot date this weekend?”
You sigh, recently canceled plans still dampening your mood. Deciding there’s no harm in telling Grace your woes, you say, “I wish. Jay just had to cancel on me for tonight.”
“No.” Grace gasps. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she was personally affronted. “He better have had a good excuse.”
“He did,” you admit. Unlike someone you know. “Family stuff.”
“Ah,” Grace nods. “I suppose that’s acceptable. Have you rescheduled?”
Frowning at the message you have yet to answer, you shake your head. “Not yet.”
“Mm,” she hums, sensing your disappointment. “I’m sure something just came up at work, and he’ll get back to you soon.”
“Yeah,” you nod hollowly. “I’m sure he will.”
You: I understand. Is there any chance we could meet Saturday evening or afternoon? It’s important to me that we talk about it soon.
It’s not as if you expect an immediate response. Like you, Jay is probably at work for the day. Busy and drowning in deadlines and assignments. Maybe even stuck in a meeting.
But thirty minutes pass. And then an hour. Two.
And your message is still completely unanswered.
The more time that passes, the harder it becomes to shake the funny feeling that starts to build in your gut. It builds and builds and builds, all the way until closing time.
And Jay still hasn’t texted you back.
That’s annoying enough all on its own, but there’s something else that just isn’t adding up.
You can’t quite put your finger on it, the thing that’s bothering you so much. But even as you make your way towards after clocking out for the day, something still doesn’t sit right with you. Opening your message thread again, you reread Jay’s last text.
Jay: … my sister’s baby shower is tomorrow morning, and I’ve been voluntold to help set it up.
Sister’s baby shower.
That’s what’s been bothering you. Because unless Jay’s sister is just finishing the shortest known pregnancy in human history, he’s lying to you.
You remember it now. The first time Grace mentioned Jay to you. She had just seen him for the first time since he moved back home.
At his older sister’s baby shower.
Sitting in your car, you scoff out loud in disbelief. The ice he treads on has been dangerously thin since your run in with Jungwon at the boxing gym, and he had the audacity to lie?
Part of you wants to catch him in it. For your own confirmation and for the satisfaction of not letting him get away with trying to pull a fast one on you. But you need an excuse. Some reason to seek him out and find him where he isn’t supposed to be.
Racking your brain, you try to think of a plausible explanation for turning up at his house tonight.
Still sitting in the parking lot, a car turns past you, headlights shining in through your windshield in a way that makes you squint.
In a way that reflects off of the tiny piece of metal jammed in the crevice next to your cupholder. Frowning, you reach down, tugging at it until it’s freed from its confines.
You’re not sure what divine forces are working in your favor, but you make a mental note to properly thank them later. Because clutched between your fingers is Jay’s missing ring. The one that he’s been looking for since he messaged you about it last week.
It’s perfect, you think. An absolutely perfect excuse to drop by his house, even if you should be under the impression that he’s not there at the moment.
Turning the piece of jewelry between your fingers, your eyes catch on an inscription on the inner band. Squinting, you can just make it out.
2013.11.13 King Pen
You’re pretty sure the numbers are a date. November 13, 2013, to be exact. But King Pen. You have no idea what that is.
It sounds like it could be related to boxing, maybe. Pulling out your phone, you do a quick online search.
The results that flood your screen are mostly generic, nothing that gives you any real leads. You try a few different search combinations, including the date and finally, the name of your city.
That does send an old article to the top of your search results. Something published in a local newspaper in 2007.
Clicking on the link, you scan the article for anything relevant.
Samuel Kang, one line towards the beginning reads, shared his plans to open a boxing gym right here in the city. Although there are other similar gyms in nearby towns, this would be the first gymnasium dedicated solely to boxing in the area.
You skip down a few more lines.
When asked if he knows what he’d like to call his project, Kang just smiles and nods his head. “King Pen,” he tells us. “I plan to call it King Pen.”
You frown. Your earlier search is proof enough that King Pen never came to fruition. As a final attempt at getting some answers, you type Samuel Kang into the search bar instead.
This time, the first article that pops up does carry an air of familiarity. Clicking on it, you confirm your suspicion.
Samuel Kang, as it turns out, never opened a boxing gym called King Pen. But he did open one called Kang’s Gym.
Looking through the photo gallery, the weightlifting equipment appears to have been in much better shape in 2008 than it was a couple of weeks ago. But even though the paint was still bright and the training pads were fully intact, it is undoubtedly the same exact gym.
There’s no reason for you to go there now. If anything, you should just drive straight to Jay’s house. But something still doesn't sit right with you.
Why does Jay’s ring say King Pen instead of Kang’s Gym? Especially since it’s dated five whole years after the gym opened under its actual name.
Besides, the gym is on your way to Jay’s apartment. If anything, it’s just a quick pit stop. A confirmation that you’re not going crazy.
Putting your car in drive, you set the ring on your passenger seat and drive out of the parking lot.
It’s already dark by the time you’re pulling into Kang’s Gym. Switching your car off, you remove your key from the ignition.
Your automatic headlights still illuminate the strangely full parking lot in front of you. Frowning, you wonder why so many people are here. Even the night that you came with Jay, the parking lot wasn’t nearly this full, and yet, most of the boxing rings inside were occupied.
Stepping out of your car, you close the door behind you softly. You’re not sure why you’re overcome with the urge to tiptoe. It’s not like you need to sneak around. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all.
But the whole thing feels strange, has you on edge. You make it only a few steps before your eyes land on a familiar car.
“Sister’s baby shower, my ass,” you whisper out loud to no one. Unless she decided to celebrate her new child at a run down boxing gym, Jay is absolutely lying to you. Because that’s his sleek black car, right in front of you. You’d recognize it anywhere.
And a few rows down, you confirm your other suspicion. You’ve never seen him drive it, but you have seen that particular navy blue SUV in the office parking garage before. Jungwon. You’re sure it’s him.
For a moment, you hesitate. It might be easier, cleaner, to just take a picture of Jay’s car and send it to him. After all, that would get your point across clearly enough. Especially if you block him afterwards.
But he’s been evasive about everything related to this place since he first brought you here. And he’s not the only one.
Eyes falling to Jungwon’s car, you decide that catching Jay in a lie isn’t the only thing you want to do tonight.
You want answers.
So the picture you take of Jay’s car remains unsent for now. Instead, you hike your bag a little further up your shoulder and continue walking in the direction of the gym.
Nearing the door, you brace yourself to be met with the large crowd that surely waits inside. Judging from the parking lot, this place must be near full capacity. But as you push through the unlocked door, the gym is completely and entirely empty.
Eerily so.
All around you, workout equipment and boxing rings sit untouched, devoid of life. There isn’t so much as a sound to disturb the uncanny silence.
Frowning, your brow creases in deep confusion. Nothing about this makes any sense.
But you didn’t come all the way here to add to your pile of questions. Instead, you push forward, past the rows of boxing rings towards the locker room where Jay left his bag a handful of nights ago.
It feels wrong to open the men’s locker room. But if no one is here, then surely it couldn’t hurt. Warily, you start to crack open the door, inch by inch.
The locker room, to your unending puzzlement, is just as empty as the rest of the gym.
You’re about to turn back to search the rest of the gym when you notice it. Just across from you, behind the first set of empty lockers. There’s another door.
It’s probably nothing, you tell yourself, even as your feet carry you closer and closer. It probably just leads to a storage closet or a boiler room or–
Pushing the door open, the first thing you’re met with is sound.
Voices. Loud voices. Lots and lots of them. In your surprise, you drop the door, and it clicks shut again.
Immediately, the sound stops. Plunged in silence again, it’s all you can do to not gasp.
Soundproof, you realize. It’s soundproof. And not just the locker room. The entire gym was dead silent until you opened this door.
This time, when you push it open, you expect the cacophonous cheers that greet you. You’re still too far away to make out what anyone is saying. Right now, it all blends into a wall of sound.
Vision is of little help, too. The only thing you see when you open the door is a staircase. In the low light, all you can tell is that it leads down.
Hoping that you’re not currently making the stupidest decision of your life, you place one tentative foot on the first step. Follow it with your other foot. And then you let the door close behind you, plunging you into complete darkness.
Immediately, a surge of panic claws at your throat. The lack of light, combined with the sheer volume of cheers and shouts, is enough to have you crawling in your skin.
Reaching blindly for the door handle behind you, you decide that sending Jay a picture of his car will have to be satisfying enough. But no matter how hard you try to twist the doorknob, it won’t budge.
No. No.
You’re trapped. Effectively locked in.
As the reality of the situation sinks in, you feel the pit of your stomach begin to drop.
Part of you wants to just stay in place, wait for whatever’s going on to end and hope that a stroke of luck will set you free. But then another thought occurs to you.
What if this is the only entrance?
You don’t know how many people are down there, but if the sound and parking lot are anything to go by, it’s a lot.
You’re sure that Jay and Jungwon are among them, but still…
Both of their warnings start to come back to you.
“He’s not who you think he is…”
“I just want you to be careful…”
“It’s important to me that you’re safe…”
Is this what they were talking about? Is this why Jungwon was so angry with Jay for bringing you here? Not because he didn’t want you to see a boxing gym, but because that’s not what this place is at all?
The more you mull it over, the more it starts to make sense.
Still submerged in darkness, you decide that the only way you’ll confirm anything is by moving forward. Slowly, you reach for your phone, turning the flashlight on its lowest setting.
Keeping it clutched in your hands in case you need to shut it off at a moment’s notice, you begin to walk, descending down the staircase.
After two flights on uneven steps, you start to see a light in the distance, a clue that you’re getting closer. And with every step you take, the voices only get louder and louder.
On the third landing, you’re given two choices: continue down the stairs or move into a hallway that stretches to your left. Deciding that staying as far away from the crowd as you can is likely your best option, you opt for the hallway.
You’ve barely walked a few feet when you nearly stumble into a wall. It’s not the end though – just a corner. The light from your phone confirms that the hallway takes a sharp turn.
Following it, you come to another door. This time, you’re even more hesitant. There could be people on the other side.
Pressing your ear against it, the only thing you hear is the same scrambled shouting, the same boisterous crowd. It’s hard to tell for certain, but you don’t hear anything that makes you think there’s someone waiting on the other side.
Slowly, carefully, you begin to open the door.
The sudden light is nearly blinding. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but once they do, your mouth drops open.
You were right, thankfully. The small room you enter is mercifully empty.
But it’s also lined with windows that give you a direct view into the room one level beneath you. Jaw dropping, you take in the scene below.
There must be at least five hundred people crammed into the stands that encircle the room. All of them are on their feet, shouting jeers and cheering with equal fervor.
And in the center of it all is a boxing ring. On the side that faces you, bold letters give it a name:
King Pen.
It’s empty for now, but you’re only left wondering for another handful of seconds before a middle aged man steps into the center, microphone in hand. With an open palm, he gestures towards the crowd, commanding them to listen.
Whoever he is, he holds weight here. With the flick of his hand, literally, the room all but falls silent.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says into the microphone. “Next up is the fight we’ve all been waiting for.”
He pauses for a moment as more cheers and shouts fill the room.
“I hope your bets are placed, because these two always manage to surprise us. Please welcome our first challenger to the ring. Back to the city for the first time in years, it’s Jaan!”
But it’s not Jaan. Or at least, it’s not someone you know as Jaan.
No, it’s Jay. The same Jay that took you to an art exhibition and convinced you to try sweet coffee instead of your usual bitter black. The same Jay that flirts with you over text and whispers sweet nothings in your ear after a long day of work.
The same Jay that lied to you about why he had to cancel your date tonight.
The crowd has barely died down when the man presses on, “And your second challenger, the reigning champion… Please give your warmest welcome for Jakah!”
The alias booms around you, echoing through the room. And of course it’s him. Of course Jakah, the reigning champion, is someone you used to think would have trouble hurting a fly.
Someone you thought embodied gentleness, patience, with every ounce of his being.
But no matter how badly you want to deny it, no matter how much the cognitive dissonance wars inside your brain, it’s him.
It’s Jungwon who enters from the other side of the ring.
“Now, remember,” the man addresses the audience again. “Cheer for your favorite. Scream at his opponent. And don’t forget our golden rule: in the King’s Pen,” he begins.
“Anything goes,” the audience shouts back in unison.
Anything? Your heart falls from your throat to the pit of your stomach. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Jay is here, that he lied to you, that he’s fighting Jungwon.
Taking a closer look at the ring beneath you, you notice the odd, rust colored stains that nearly cover it.
Blood, you realize after a sickening moment. The ring is covered in blood stains.
It makes sense, suddenly, why King Pen didn’t appear in any search results. Why this entire place is completely soundproofed. Why Jungwon wanted you to stay far, far away.
This isn’t a sparring match. It’s a duel.
One where, like the audience just affirmed, anything goes.
As the man steps out from the center of the ring, Jay and Jungwon start to circle each other, fists raised in anticipation.
Even from a distance, you can see the tight coil of muscle in their shoulders, the way their bodies prepare for the inevitable fight.
“Say it with me now, folks,” the man booms, now standing on the side of the ring.
“Three.” Jay’s eyes narrow, fists rising an inch higher.
“Two.” Jungwon flicks a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.
“One.” You feel your last bit of breath whoosh out from your lungs.
“Fight.”
It’s like a dance, you think. A sickening, deadly dance that you can’t look away from no matter how much you want to.
Despite your lack of knowledge, it quickly becomes apparent to you why this is the main event of the evening.
Where Jay is sheer, brutal strength, Jungwon is all evasion. He moves with the agility of an athlete, the lightness of a dancer.
He makes it look easy, the way he ducks beneath carefully timed swings and always seems to predict what Jay will do next.
But even dancers stumble sometimes.
You can’t help it, the gasp that slips out when one of Jay’s punches lands true. You watch, horrified, as Jungwon staggers backwards, adding to the crimson stains on the floor of the ring.
Slightly dazed, he brings the back of his palm to the broken skin along his cheekbone, assessing the damage. When he brings it in front of his face, it comes back red.
Jay takes no pity on his opponent. Following his retreat, he aims for another bruising blow. This one hits Jungwon just beneath the ribs. Echoes around the makeshift stadium with a dull thud you hear even from your hiding place.
Again, Jungwon’s sure steps falter.
The rise and fall of his chest is rapid as he struggles to catch his breath. But when he looks up again, there’s a fire in his eyes. Pure, unadulterated hatred that permeates the scant distance between him and his rival and sends a shiver down the length of your spine.
Not one to take things lying down, Jungwon takes advantage of Jay’s momentary lapse in focus.
His fist connects with the bridge of Jay’s nose with a sickening crunch. Head falling backward, the immediate flow of blood is gruesome. It drip down his chin, landing on the floor beneath him in an arrhythmic pattern.
There’s little grace to it now. Gone are the remaining fragments of inhibition as both boys put away their judgment and leave the rest to instinct.
It’s messy, sloppy, angry.
They’re so close; it’s hard to tell which blows come from who. Hard to tell whose wounds are multiplying faster, whose blood is falling more freely.
And then, just when you think you can’t stomach watching any longer, it’s done.
It’s so fast. You can’t quite be sure how it happens. But one second, both boys are standing, and the next, Jay is flat on his back, Jungwon hovering above him.
Still, the crowd is silent. Everyone’s eyes are on the ring.
Jay is down. Trapped beneath his opponent, it’s clear to you who the victory is. But then you remember the words the crowd chanted at the beginning of the fight.
Anything goes.
Your stomach twists with nausea.
Even from here, you can see the tension that still strains the muscles along Jungwon’s back. The rigidity of his shoulders.
For a moment, you think he’s going to do it. To strike again, even though victory is already in his hands.
You see his lips move with words you can’t hear. Beneath him, Jay remains stoic. There’s still fight in his eyes, even if it’s been drained from his body.
Jungwon’s mouth moves again.
This time, Jay nods. It’s a tiny movement, barely perceptible. But it’s enough.
With an agitated flair, Jungwon stands again.
Blood is still dripping from his face, his knuckles. Sweat covers his body, drenches his hair.
He’s won, yes, but the expression on his features is not one of satisfaction.
ARound him, the audience begins to boo, throwing jeers and insults like extra change. They were hoping for more than a fight. They were hoping for cruelty Jungwon isn’t willing to give.
Without a second glance back, he turns and leaves the ring.
Still reeling, you nearly jump out of your skin when the handle on the door to your room begins to turn.
If you had a stronger grip on your sense of logic, you would do something. Try to hide. Scramble to think of an excuse for your presence.
The door opens before you do any of it.
“Oh,” Heeseung says, eyes widening as he finds the room already occupied. And then it registers with him who exactly is already occupying said room. “Oh,” he repeats. “He is not going to be happy about this.”
…..
Heeseung’s fist rings out against the door in three sharp raps. For a moment, silence is the only response. And then–
“I’m not in the mood.”
“Uh,” Heeseung glances at you sideways. “I think you should open the door anyway.”
“I’m serious.” Jungwon’s voice is pure ire. “I’m not doing this with you right now, Heeseung.”
“Okay,” Heeseung concedes. “But I really still think you should open the–”
“What?”
Jungwon’s glare lands on his friend before his gaze slides to you. Immediately, his features slacken in surprise. “Oh.”
And it’s stupid, foolish, naive. But the first thing you feel when you see him standing on his own two feet is pure, unadulterated relief.
He’s injured. It’s obvious from the wounds that line his face and the way his breath is still shallow in his chest. But he’s okay.
He’s here and he’s in front of you and he’s okay.
“Yeah,” Heeseung repeats. “Like I said, I think you should–”
“Go away.”
“What?” Heeseung balks. “Where am I supposed to–”
“Away,” Jungwon reiterates, eyes still locked on you.
Heeseung is sulking, but he follows Jungwon’s command regardless. And then it’s just the two of you.
You both speak at the same time, near identical questions overlapping with one another.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Why are you here?”
A beat of silence passes. Another.
As if he is suddenly remembering your surroundings, Jungwon looks around you, a new urgency in his gaze. You don’t know what kind of consequences places like this carry, but common sense tells you it’s best that you’re not seen. “Come in,” he opens the door a bit wider, giving you space to enter.
You shouldn’t. He hasn’t lied to you, not exactly, but it’s not like he’s been particularly honest either.
And coworkers don’t owe you the truth or the nitty gritty details of their lives, but it’s been a long time since Jungwon and you treated one another like coworkers. No matter what you want to call it, the relationship that you’ve built between conversations in the workroom and email threads and kind gestures in the office feels a lot more like friendship. Or at the very least some iteration of it.
So you’re not mad at him for keeping this from you, not really.
But other emotions are swirling in your gut, and you don’t know what to do with them. Most of all, you’re worried. For his safety. For his wellbeing. For him.
Obeying his command, you step inside the small room. You hear the door click shut behind you.
Looking around, there isn’t much to see. It’s a locker room, essentially, designed for one person. There’s a counter to your left with a small first aid kit and a chair in the far corner of the room.
A gym bag, Jungwon’s you assume, rests next to it.
And, of course, there’s the two of you.
Glancing up, you take a look at him. A long, real look.
He’s wearing the same clothes he entered the ring with. A white athletic shirt that moves with him, gives his long, lean muscles space to move. To flex and contract with every shallow breath.
He’s still just as gorgeous as always, even with a split lip and a nasty cut that spans the length of his temple. Even with the bruising that’s already begun to discolor his near flawless skin.
Sighing, you nod towards the chair behind him. “Sit down.”
“What?” Confusion draws his brow downward, and he hisses in pain at the movement.
“Don’t tell me your illegal fights have ruined your hearing too.”
“What? No.” Jungwon shakes his head. “My hearing is perfectly fine, I mean.”
“Then sit.” You glance pointedly at the chair again. “Down.”
This time, he doesn’t try to argue. You watch from your periphery, frowning at the slight limp in his left leg as he walks toward the chair, easing himself down.
Reaching for the first aid kit on the counter, you bring it with you as you move across the room.
Your steps are slow and even. They carry you all the way to the far corner, until you’re forced to stop.
Standing above Jungwon, your lips pull into a tight line as you begin to assess his injuries. Hesitation might be wise, but you can’t find any of it left in you.
Your movements are sure, gentle but firm. Hands sliding to his jaw, you adjust his face slightly, turning the gash on his temple towards the light. It’s an echo of the way he examined you in the workroom, long weeks ago.
This time, it’s him that’s easily manipulable underneath your touch.
“What are you doing?” He whispers.
Your hesitation is gone, but so is your patience. “Don’t talk.” Jungwon’s lips fall shut. He’s pliant in your hands as you adjust him.
Reaching for the kit, the first thing you pull out is antiseptic cream.
“This might sting,” you whisper.
“It’s okay,” he assures you. But he hisses at the contact all the same. “Doesn’t even hurt,” he lies through gritted teeth, forcing a smile.
If he’s trying to be funny, his attempt at humor is lost on you.
Gaze still narrowed in concentration, you busy yourself by cleaning the worst of his wounds first.
As you move from his forehead to his lip, you don’t think you imagine the sharp inhale he draws between parted lips.
“It stings?” You ask him.
“Just a bit.” You feel the ghost of his whisper against your fingertips.
You look up for a moment, and you find his gaze already locked on yours. It takes a significant portion of your willpower to stop yourself from reaching up to brush his hair from his eyes.
It feels wrong, even if you call it friendship. Even if you and Jay never discussed exclusivity.
Your heart is fluttering, and that’s what makes it all seem so illicit.
With no small amount of effort, you force your eyes down again. Standing above him, your fingers move from his face to his hands. His wrist clasped in your fingers, you sink to your knees in front of him.
Jungwon swallows audibly.
Pulling his hand closer, you examine the series of shallow cuts, of angry, violet bruises that line his knuckles. With another long sigh, you reach for the cream again, applying it generously before carefully wrapping it in a bandage.
After giving the same attention to the other hand, you lean back, assessing your handiwork.
For a moment, neither of you moves. You’re still kneeling in front of him. He still sits above you.
And then, after a breath of hesitation, one carefully wrapped hand finds its way to your face.
Gently, with a touch so light you hardly feel it, he lays his open palm against the expanse of your cheek. Cradles it.
He whispers your name, and you can’t find it in you to look up.
“I don’t…” you trail off, not sure how to communicate the swirling mix of emotions simmering just beneath the surface. “I don’t want to be mad at you.”
“But you are,” Jungwon assumes. He accepts it, and he doesn’t let it change anything. His hand is steady against your cheek. His thumb starts to draw small circles, just under your earlobe.
“I’m not,” you correct. “But this isn’t…” again your words die. It’s frustrating, the way you feel like you can never be straightforward with him. The way you always feel like you have to navigate through subtext and half truths and partial reveals just to get a point across.
“But you don’t owe me anything right now.”
His thumb stills against your skin.
“We’re coworkers,” you continue. “We’re just coworkers, so it doesn’t matter if you fight in illegal boxing matches. You don’t have to worry about what I think of it, and I don’t have to be mad at you for it.”
You do look up at him, begging for a bit of his understanding. “You can be evasive with your excuses and reject all of my invitations. We can meet by chance in the workroom on Monday afternoons, and none of it ever has to mean anything. Neither of us ever has to feel anything about it.”
“But,” Jungwon whispers.
“Yeah,” you nod. Your cheek slides easily against the soft skin of his bruised hand. “But.”
Jungwon is silent for a moment, eyes darting between both of yours. Then, tentatively, he asks, “Are you mad at him?”
He doesn’t say Jay’s name, but the venom he wraps around the word is all you need to know who he’s talking about.
You shake your head, eyelids fluttering. “We’re coworkers.” You reiterate the boundaries he’s always maintained with you. “You don’t get to ask me that.”
Jungwon’s hand slides to your neck, thumb tracing the length of your jaw now. “And if I want to?”
You shake your head again. You can only give him so much on a silver platter. If he wants anything to change, he’ll have to find a bit of his own bravery. “That’s not the question you need to ask me.” Looking up at him, you draw another line. “And not tonight.”
You’ve both been through enough. Heightened emotions rarely lead to good decisions, and the last thing you want is his indecisiveness. His impulsivity.
Quietly, you stand, his hand falling from your face as you rise to full height in front of him.
His eyes look wider from this angle, from above. Even shinier than usual. No matter how many boundaries you draw or how many ways you deny him, he’s someone that’s hard to say no to. Hard to walk away from.
Steeling the last remnants of your resolve, you manage to look him in those dark, sparkling eyes when you tell him, “Good night, Jungwon.”
“Good night, ___,” he whispers to your retreating silhouette.
Closing the door behind you, you barely have a moment to catch your breath before a voice interrupts your wandering thoughts.
“You like him, don’t you?”
The gasp you give is out of shock more than anything. And the “What?” you ask is a knee jerk reaction.
“Yang.” Jay materializes from his position in the darkness, jerking his chin towards the door behind you. “You like him.”
Immediately, you find yourself on the defense. Even if you’re just delaying the inevitable, it’s cagey when you tell him. “We work together.”
Jay just looks at you. “My favorite color is green.”
“What?”
“Sorry,” Jay’s tone is flat. He’s not annoyed, but he’s coming close to it. “I thought we were stating irrelevant facts.”
With a sigh, he drags an open palm down his face. “I know you work together. But you like him, too," he sighs again, reading the horror in your expression. Mostly due to the fact that he read you like an open book when you thought you were keeping your feelings close to the chest. “I’m not… mad. It sucks, but it’s not like I was honest with you either. I’m sorry, by the way, for lying about tonight.”
It’s too much to process, all at once. Your head is swimming and your heart is pounding.
It was a shitty thing to do, yes, but–
“You don’t have to say sorry–”
Again, Jay doesn’t let you finish. “I’m not saying sorry because I have to. I’m saying it because I am. I like you.” He’s so honest. So blunt with his feelings. He makes things so easy. “I like spending time with you. I think we both know that’s not enough anymore,” he casts another meaningful glance at the door behind him. The one that leads to Jungwon’s locker room, “but it’s still true.”
“I…” you trail off, unsure what to say. He’s not wrong. In fact, he’s all but hit the nail right on the head. With deadly accuracy.
Heeseung was the one that found you, that brought you to Jungwon, but still.
It’s not Jay that you checked in on fist. It’s not Jay whose wounds you just cleaned. It’s not Jay who you’re thinking about now.
Like he said, it sucks, but it’s still true.
Jay has bruises, too. Has cuts that line his knuckles and his jaw. He’s here because he’s part of an illegal underground boxing ring. He lied to you about it.
But you just… you’re not mad at him about it. And that’s the final nail in the coffin.
Jay just looks at you for a moment longer. For the third time, he sighs. “You’re really gonna make me do this part too?” He inhales, steeling his resolve. “Okay, then. ___, I think we should–”
“I think we should stop seeing each other,” you finish for him. You can give him at least that much. “I had a great time getting to know you, but I think we want different things right now. I wish you all the best. Really, you’re a great guy, Jay.”
He is.
“I mean it.”
You do.
“Thank you, ___.”
He means it too.
When Jay walks away from you, his shoulders are straight and his head is high.
You feel a lot of things, as you watch his retreating figure.
But no matter how deep you search, regret isn’t one of them.
…..
Monday morning brings with it a distinct sort of dread.
Partly because it marks the beginning of another long week. Mostly because going back to the office means potentially seeing him.
If you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure if you’re ready for that. If you’re ready to face the feelings you’ve been forcing down for months and the potential fallout they may bring with them.
So, when you open your inbox first thing in the morning, an unreasonable request from your supervisor isn’t the thing you’re most afraid of finding.
Jungwon, however, isn’t planning to stick to old routines. When he seeks you out, he does it in person.
Grace’s eyes are anywhere but on her own work when he walks through the door of the marketing department half past ten.
“___,” he breathes.
The wounds on his face are already fading, hardly even noticeable. You wish you could say the same for the turmoil raging inside of you. You can’t decide if you want to throw your arms around his neck or tell him to fuck off.
In the end, you just look at him blankly.
“Can we…” he trails off, visibly frustrated. He isn’t sure how to do this either. “Can you help me with something? In the workroom. I think the printer is acting up again.”
The printer is fine. You used it five minutes ago.
But he’s not asking you to help him with work or the printer or anything else. He’s asking for a bit of your time, a fraction of your understanding.
It’s messy. It has so much potential for heartbreak, for complication.
But he’s here and he’s looking at you like your answer means the world to him. Like he might forget how to breathe if you don’t say yes.
So, with a rising bout of uncertainty, you tell him, “Let’s go take a look at it.”
The printer, just as you suspected, is in perfect working order. Jungwon doesn’t even spare it a second look.
Instead, he closes the door to the workroom behind you. And then he says, “I started boxing when I was a kid. I think I was eight, nine maybe.”
“What are you–”
“Just listen,” Jungwon begs. “Please.”
You want to protest. You’re not sure why, but the urge is strong. But after a moment of warring with yourself, you finally nod, giving him permission to continue.
“It was just a hobby. Something to keep me busy on long afternoons when both of my parents were working in the restaurant my family owned. But I kept at it, and they could see how much I enjoyed it. By the time I was ten, my mom enrolled me in actual classes.”
Jungwon smiles, reminiscing on the tidbits of a happy childhood. But then his smile starts to falter. “A few months later, my grandpa died. It wasn’t a surprise exactly, but it did have some unexpected consequences on the business. My family started to struggle. With money, more than anything.”
He sighs, and your heart hurts for a past version of him, too young to make sense of all of the sudden changes in his life. “I had to quit taking lessons. I kept practicing on my own, though. And when I started middle school, there was a free boxing club I joined. I met a lot of my friends there. Heeseung, who you met the other night, along with a few others. I also met Jay.”
Jungwon’s lips pull into a line. “I didn’t hate him. Not exactly. He was nice enough, and we had a lot in common. But he had everything that I wanted. Money, mostly. His family never had to worry about it. He could take private lessons and always had all the nicest gear. He didn’t flaunt it, but I noticed. And I envied him for it.”
Looking back at you, he continues, “Heeseung was the one that found the King Pen. He was like me, in a way. His family didn’t come from money. We were young, too young, but we were good. We made them money, so they let us fight. Jay found out and wanted in too. It didn’t matter that he didn’t need the prize money. He just wanted to prove that he was better than us. That he was the best. It was me and him in my very first championship fight. He won, and I hated him for it.”
The ring, you realize. Jay’s ring that he dropped in your car. It was a championship ring.
Jungwon looks down at his hands. The bandages that you put there. “He moved away once high school started. We didn’t keep in direct contact or anything, but I always heard about him. Jay and his international boxing titles. Jay and his new sponsorship deal with a major boxing gym. It just added fuel to the fire that was already there. Made me resent him more, even if it wasn’t his fault.”
No matter how you spin it, you can’t imagine any of that was easy to deal with. Especially as a teenager.
“With him gone, though, I started to make real money fighting. Good money. I lied to my parents and told them I got a part time job. Moving cargo so that they wouldn’t be too suspicious when I came home with bruises.”
Jungwon flexes his fingers. “Boxing became my saving grace. I could give a good chunk of my earnings to my family, and the rest of it, I saved. It put me through university. Let me earn my programming degree.”
You understand him a bit more, then. Why he never seemed annoyed by his job. Why even things like jammed printers never seemed to get to him. He’s thankful for where he is. Has nothing but gratitude for his job when he earned it with years of his own blood, sweat, and tears.
“I have a steady income now, but it’s just… hard, I guess. To let that part of me go. And if I’m honest, part of me has always been afraid too. I mean, my parents had a steady income until they didn’t, you know? I like knowing that even if something happens here, I’ll still be able to support myself. And them.”
It makes sense. It does.
“And then Jay came back.” Jungwon scoffs. “He’d barely been in town for a full twenty-four hours when he showed up at Kang’s with all of his fancy gear and asked to be added to the roster for the next round of fights. And then he showed up there with you and I… I thought I was actually going to lose it.”
Even now, Jungwon’s shoulders are visibly tense. “The actual gym is usually fine, safe for outsiders, but still. He shouldn’t have risked your safety like that. He should have known better. And I…” Jungwon trails off again.
You don’t think you’re imagining the slight tinge of pink that starts to color his cheekbones.
“I was already having a bad enough time with the fact that you were seeing someone. When it turned out to be him, I just… Well, you know.”
Jungwon takes a deep breath in, releases a long exhale.
“I don’t like making bets, and I don’t like situations I can’t predict. Things I don’t have control over. I guess that’s part of the reason why I always liked boxing so much. In the ring, I feel like I have a say in what happens. That even if I lose, it’s because I didn’t move fast enough. I didn’t think quick enough. Things I have control over. Things I can get better at.”
Jungwon looks at you. “I hate guessing. I hate having to wonder. I like sure things.”
His chest is rising and falling a little faster now. Your breath is just as shallow.
“What are you saying?” you ask him.
“I’m saying that I don’t just want to be coworkers with you. I want you to be mad at me for fighting in illegal underground boxing matches.” Jungwon’s gaze is imploring, pleading for your understanding as his eyes search yours. “I want you to call me when the printer jams and when you have a hard day and when you want someone to go to a stupid work event with you on a Friday night.”
He takes a step closer to you, and you feel your spine press against the door of the workroom.
“I want you to be a sure thing,” he breathes, “even if everything about you – the way I feel about you, the thoughts I have about you, the things I want to do to you – have always felt out of my control.”
“Oh.” Your voice is small. Your mouth is dry. Caged in against the door, words are suddenly a hard thing to come by.
“Oh,” Jungwon echoes. “Is that a yes?”
He’s even closer now. Nose brushing against yours, he interlaces the fingers of his less injured hand with yours, reaching up until your hands are intertwined above your head.
“No,” you shake your head.
“Mm,” Jungwon hums, and you feel the vibration travel the length of your spine, settling somewhere deep, just beneath your navel. His lips brush against the corner of your mouth when he asks, “It’s a no, then?”
Again, you shake your head. Trapped in his embrace, the movement is tiny, restricted. Sends goosebumps scattering across your skin everywhere the two of you are touching.
“An oh is just an oh,” you tell him. “This is a yes.”
There isn’t any distance to close. Just pressure to add. He accepts it willingly, even if the sudden contact against the still broken skin of his bottom lip has him releasing a hiss through his teeth.
It’s a discomfort he gets over quickly. His other hand, the one not currently tangled with yours, relocates to the curve of your jaw before he’s doubling down, pain all but forgotten as his lips part against yours.
A repeated motion. A rhythm that’s stilted at first but starts to feel natural the longer you continue.
Over and over. Again and again until the action starts to feel useless. Until you’re not quite sure where his breath ends and yours begin.
You’re in the office workroom, pressed against the door, and the printer is starting to beep in protest.
You’re sure you’ll be thoroughly embarrassed when you inevitably leave long minutes later with mussed hair and swollen lips and a certain programmer trailing behind you that can’t contain his self-satisfied smile.
But for now, you get what he means. It feels good. It feels like relief, to finally know where you stand with him.
So instead of worrying about what your supervisor will think of your mussed collar and smudged lipstick, you pull him down a little firmer by the back of the neck, fingers tangling in the hair along his nape.
You sigh into his mouth, and the fervor he returns with leaves you well and truly breathless.
And for once, it feels like a sure thing.
…..
epilogue
Jungwon: SOS
Jungwon: Babyyyyyyyy
Jungwon: I know you’re reading my messages
Jungwon: PLEASE ___ I really need your help
You: I’m BUSY what do you need
Jungwon: The printer is jammed again
You: And what do you want me to do about that? Call maintenance
Jungwon: Oh please
Jungwon: Last time I called maintenance they sent a guy that couldn’t tell A4 from A3 this is not the job for them
Jungwon: Plus they don’t have the magic touch like you
You: Literally what are you talking about
You: The last time I tried to fix the printer, I broke it so bad it was out of commission for two whole weeks
You: The entire floor was mad at me
You: I had to buy Grace coffee every day for TWO WEEKS
Jungwon: PLEASEEEEEE
Jungwon: Just try once and if it doesn’t work I’ll call maintenance
Jungwon: I promise
You: …
You: FINE
You: On my way
Tucking your phone back into your pocket, you sigh. The workroom door opens with little resistance, but as soon as you step inside, you frown.
Jungwon, for starters, is nowhere to be seen.
And the printer, at least from first impressions, appears to be working just fine. Completely jam-free.
You’re not left in the dark for long. A moment later, the door opens behind you.
Tumbling in like an overexcited kitten, your boyfriend looks all too enthused to be dealing with a supposed jammed printer.
Gesturing towards the machine in question, you frown at him. “What were you talking about? The printer is perfectly f–”
He cuts you off with the press of his lips against your own, pushing you backwards until you run into the printer, spine arching against the copier tray.
“Jungwon,” you protest once he finally lets you up for air. “It’s like you want HR to start a case against us. You have got to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” He feigns innocence, even as he leans in again for another long kiss.
“Mm,” you mumble, breaking free again. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Faking printer emergencies as an excuse to make out. We’re at work.”
Jungwon leans back, but the only thing he uses the space for is to let himself scan you from head to toe. Biting his bottom lip, he runs a set of fingers through the hair that falls across his forehead. “You know, you’re a really terrible liar.”
“I’m not ly–”
“If you actually wanted me to stop, you wouldn’t fall for it every.” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Single.” The top of your cheekbone. “Time.” The corner of your mouth.
And you hate to admit it, but he kind of has you there.
“Whatever.” You pout, but he just uses it as an excuse to plant another long kiss on your pursed lips. “I’m serious, Jungwon,” you tell him, even if you’re just as breathless as he is, despite the fact that you’re actively pulling him in by the back of his neck. “This has to be the last time.”
“Mm,” he smiles against your lips. “Sure thing, ___.”
…..
outtake — seven months ago.
The tinted window of Jungwon’s secondhand car is hardly an ideal mirror, but he’ll have to make it work.
Giving himself a final once over, he straightens his already immaculate tie. Tugs at the collar of his button down shirt so that it lays just a little bit nicer, the edges of the folds just a fraction of a millimeter sharper.
Bending slightly, he smooths down his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. Catching his reflection again, he suddenly has second thoughts about the version of himself that he sees.
Bleaching his hair had seemed like a good – no, great – idea a few weeks ago. But now, dressed in business casual and about to begin his first day at a new job, doubts start to swirl through Jungwon’s mind.
What if they don’t think the blonde is professional enough? What if it breaks some kind of unspoken dress code?
He knows it doesn’t break the actual, company mandated dress code. Mostly because he’s already read through the handbook.
Twice.
With annotations.
Frowning slightly, Jungwon tilts his head to the side. He’s gotten pretty good with concealer, but there’s still a faint purplish tint that sits just along the edge of his jaw.
It takes a decent amount of effort not to wince at the memory. Sunghoon had gotten him good that day.
Jungwon forces his shoulders to relax. Forces himself to take one big breath in. Release it out slowly.
He has no reason to panic. He went through the same, brutal rounds of interviews as everyone else and was deemed to be the most qualified candidate. He graduated summa cum laude in the same field he’ll be employed in now.
And it’s not like anyone’s going to be looking at his face close enough to notice any slight discoloration. Or, at least, he doesn’t think they will.
To be honest, he’s not really sure how this whole thing works. Office jobs, no matter how many online forums he’s scoured and articles he’s read, are still a bit of a mystery to him.
He hates it. Hates feeling out of his depth and ill prepared. Hates knowing that he’ll have to ask too many questions and stumble through tasks until he gets the basics down.
But part of him is excited too.
He did it. Standing in the parking lot of an otherwise rather unremarkable company, it hits him all at once.
He actually fucking did it.
All those nights in the ring. Every bruise, every scar, every drop of blood. Every saved penny, every skipped opportunity.
They landed him here. An 8 to 5 office job that isn’t flashy or anything special from the outside, but to him, means the world.
He’ll have it all: a steady salary, a place to be in the mornings, coworkers to notice when he’s not around. It’s not much, but it’s his.
So, with one last deep inhale, Jungwon turns away from his car window and tracks a steady path on even footsteps towards the front door.
And a handful of hours later, when Terry from accounting is still talking his ear off about his son’s latest hockey match in the doorway of the staff kitchen, Jungwon’s heart gives an unsteady lurch.
“Hey, Terry,” you nod in acknowledgement, entering the kitchen in search of an early afternoon refill for your empty coffee mug. “Hey, oh.” Your eyes meet his, lips parting. Your words die when you realize you don’t know what to call him. When you realize you’ve never actually seen him before.
And it’s not like Jungwon has never seen a pretty girl before, but – oh.
Oh.
Dressed in a rather simple, work approved ensemble, hair loose around your face, there’s nothing specific that he can pinpoint. All Jungwon knows is that there’s something about you that makes him want to keep looking.
“Jungwon,” he supplies, a bit breathlessly.
Behind him, Terry is still regaling the details of his kid’s game-winning goal.
Eyes locked on him, a beat of heavy silence passes. And then –
“Hi, Jungwon.”
Your eyes. He thinks it must be your eyes. Or maybe your lips. The delicate curve of your cheekbone. His gaze can’t decide where to land.
“Hi,” he manages.
Eyes sliding over his shoulder to Terry, you release a small, amused breath. “Hey, Terry?”
Stopping mid sentence, the middle aged man turns to you. “Oh, hi, ____. How are you?”
___. Jungwon thinks it suits you. A pretty name for a pretty girl.
“Just fine, thanks.” You flash him a quick smile. Just a bare hint, and Jungwon feels his knees getting a little wobbly beneath him. “But I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
“Of course,” Terry nods a little too enthusiastically. Fifteen years at the same company, and he’s the kind of person that still jumps at the opportunity to be needed. Helpful. Jungwon thinks it’s kind of sweet, even if he wishes the man’s gift for brevity in storytelling could be a bit more apparent.
“You know the printer in the workroom?”
Terry nods.
“It’s jammed again,” you frown, the slightest hint of a pout pulling at your lips. Jungwon can’t quite find it in himself to look away from the movement. “Do you think you could take a look at it for me?”
Terry beams. “Of course! I’d be happy to.”
And then it’s just the two of you.
“He means well.” You smile again, softer this time. Like you’re discussing an inside joke only the two of you know about.
Jungwon is suddenly finding his breath a difficult thing to maintain.
“Does the printer do that a lot?” He finally manages to ask. “Jam, I mean.”
“All the time.” You roll your eyes. “You’d think a company raking in this much profit would have the cash to spare on a new machine, but no. This entire floor is just ill fated to suffer” There’s an air of humor to your words, a slight hint of teasing, even if Jungwon thinks there’s an undercurrent of truth to your words.
You smile again. Teeth tugging at your bottom lip, Jungwon can only describe your expression as slightly devious. “It’s not jammed now, though.”
His brow furrows. “It’s not?”
You shake your head. “I was given the gory details of Terry’s son’s soccer game yesterday. Trust me, I saved you a headache and an extra thirty minutes.” You wink at him, and Jungwon really, really hopes the sudden heat in his cheeks doesn’t look as obvious as it feels.
“I think it was a hockey match, actually.”
“Oh.” You pause for a moment, considering. “Right.”
A moment of silence passes. Another. Jungwon has never minded the quiet, but he’s not quite ready for this interaction to end. Suddenly, he feels like he’s scrambling for something to prolong it.
“Thank you.”
Your brow furrows. “For what.”
“The extra thirty minutes and the absence of a headache.” Jungwon taps two fingers against his temple. “I appreciate it.”
“Ah,” you smile, and this time it’s a bit brighter, wider. Jungwon, not for the first time today, thanks his lucky stars that he was accepted for this position. That it landed him here, sharing a staff kitchen with someone like you. “Anytime.”
He hopes you mean it.
And when you turn away from him a few moments later, original mission to refill your coffee remembered, Jungwon looks up at the ceiling with his eyes screwed shut and takes a long, much needed breath.
“Jungwon,” you turn back. Luckily, he’s just returned to a more natural standing position.
“Yeah?”
“It’s nice to meet you. Don’t let this place get you down too quickly.” You wink again. Jungwon does his best to keep his features neutral. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he agrees, even though you’ve already turned back to the coffee machine. “Sure thing, ___.”
⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖
note: and we're done! thank you for reading! and thank you for bearing with me and the fact that this unfortunately had to be split into two parts. I hope you enjoyed this story, and as always, I would love to hear any thoughts you have. all the best ♡
General Yandere! Osamu Miya Profile
Yandere! Osamu Miya x fem! reader
Warnings: slight misogyny/traditional gender roles, mentions of motherhood/forced motherhood, mentions of dub-non/con, mentions of harassment, mentions of non/dub-con, physical violence (just a few punches, nothing too graphic), kidnapping, mentions of neglect, brief mentions of suicide, Osamu is whipped and thinks you’re helpless without him, fem reader, MDNI
Not so friendly reminder that I do not condone the actions in this post! This is purely for entertainment purposes, so please do not replicate anything you read in this post. You are responsible for your intake on the internet. If you or a loved one is in a situation similar to this or anything on this blog, please reach out for help! With that, enjoy!
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