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girlatmirror · 21 days ago

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the viscount who loved me | jjk

It was your sister’s season, and she was the diamond, while your season was still a year away. Though suitors could seek your hand already, it doesn’t excuse you for secretly pining after the viscount who courted her.

viscount!jungkook x reader

warnings: (kinda??) morally gray yn and jk, sexism (c’mon it’s the 18th century what did u expect), sex (bye minors), it’s not sex centered tho, longing and yearning (bring real romance back), cheating (is it tho, idk u be the judge), u might get mad at the main characters, enemies to lovers, heavily inspired (or stolen) by my loves anthony and kate 😍😍, yn is the younger sister and has yet to enter her season, but she is in her twenties!! (not specified in the text, but i was thinking jk is like 27, yn’s sis is 24 and yn is like 22, just to clarify) is idk what else. ENJOY!

The fresh, sunny air of London on that day called you to leave the mansion and ride your horse, Cinnamon, into the forest, just as you did every morning that was suitable for a nice ride. It was not entirely proper to do so in that society, but they did not need to know about it. You always felt safe; you rode at a time of day when you were sure nobody would see you. You had a set time of 20 minutes; after that, you returned home, wearing a cloak with a hat that covered half your face. If someone were to catch you, you could merely lower the hat, and they would not know who you were. The last thing you wanted was to bring shame on your family, especially not in a society as cruel as that one.

You rode to your familiar place and felt the breeze of the wind in your hair; you felt free. It continued to be the beautiful, calm ride you were used to—until you heard the sounds of a man, seemingly talking to you.

"Miss?" the voice from afar called. "Miss, are you in trouble?" To your dismay, the voice came closer so quickly that you did not know where to go or what to do. If you were to ride deeper into the forest, you would get lost, and if you rode straight ahead, the man would see you either way. It seemed even this baggy cloak could not conceal your femininity as you had thought it would.

The man came nearer, and you turned your head so he would not recognize you.

"Miss, if there is a problem, I shall help you," his deep voice stated. "It is not suited for a young lady to be out here unchaperoned."

You did not say a word, your face still turned in the opposite direction. You did not think it through, and he turned his horse to face you, ducking his head to see you. You had never felt this silly in your life. You took off the hat hesitantly, revealing long curls and innocent, almost pleading eyes.

Before you sat the infamous Viscount Jeon on his horse, a most important figure of the ton. The gossip columns described him as a ‘rake through and through,’ yet he was as captivating as a summer’s night and as wealthy as the stars were numerous. Indeed, there was not a mother in the ton who did not dream of him marrying her daughter.

You were sure he recognized you as well; with your sister being the diamond of the season, there was not a single gentleman in London who did not know the family he wished to marry into.

"I know you," he revealed. "You are the daughter of Baron Ln. Miss, you should not be here alone. It is dangerous."

"I am not here alone, my lord; I am here with Cinnamon... and you are here, also," you stammered, hesitantly and nervously.

The viscount did not hide his amusement, chuckling while shaking his head. He found the entire sentence you had just said to be hilarious.

"You do not need to be scared; I shall not tell a soul about this encounter," he reassured you, still chuckling. "But I believe you should head home now, for your folks should get worried."

You listened to him, still flushed and slightly embarrassed, and headed home.

The Viscount Jeon certainly was gentler than what the columns wrote about him.

___

"Mother, I was unable to breathe in this corset. It was utterly ridiculous, and it elevated my bosoms up to the sky," you said, exaggerating, while your maid tied up the corset—who was, at that moment, your rival.

The last ball you attended had been the first of the season at the palace, where your beautiful sister, Nadia, had been chosen as the season’s diamond by the queen herself. You had been proud beyond measure; your sister was the eldest of your household and often played a secondary motherly role. She deserved to have the finest suitors begging for just a pinch of her attention.

"I did not have such a problem, sister, and my corset was just as tight, if not tighter, than yours," Nadia declared, looking down at her much flatter body.

"I cannot help but wonder why..." sarcasm left your mouth.

Since the queen’s announcement, your mother had not stopped rushing, running errands, investing in your jewelry collections, and buying dresses from the finest modistes in the city. Your mother had always been insatiable and prideful, yet you had never seen this side of her before.

"My dear Yn, your sister is the diamond of the season; she is destined to wed a most extraordinary gentleman, one who must possess both fortune and lands in locales of which we have never even heard, and court her heart with poetry. Such is the very least that the daughter of a most noble man is entitled to receive. She is the jewel of her season, which ensures that all eyes shall be upon her—and upon us. We shall create a most splendid impression at tonight's ball at Danbury House. We simply must," Lady Ln proclaimed, her pride evident as she gazed at herself and her two eldest daughters in the mirror. "Moreover, Yn, what is this lamentation regarding your bosoms? Such femininity is precisely what captivates a gentleman and stirs envy among the young ladies of the ton. You shall also find your match. Both of my daughters are undeniably the most beautiful women of the ton, nay, of the entire world!"

You and Nadia glanced at each other, trying not to laugh at your mother’s boasting. She had been excited to get her daughters married since they were born, always saying that marrying off a son was not as exciting and beautiful as marrying off a daughter. Your two older brothers had both gotten married in the last few years.

You did not like to admit it, but you had been dreaming of your prince charming since you were just a little girl, waiting to get married. Not because of the couples you knew, but because of the books you read that spoke of longing, making you feel as if you were living the character’s life.

"Lena, get the ladies ready; I shall attend to the little ones. They are out in the gardens, engaged in activities unknown to me," your mother commanded the maid, exiting the chamber with graceful haste to see what her mischievous twins were up to.

"Is it not amusing how mama calls Hana and Idris little ones despite their approaching age of sixteen?" Nadia shook her head, smiling. She admired herself in the mirror and told Lena to fix up her hair. "I must look perfect."

Nadia was a perfectionist through and through, the eldest daughter of a baron and his insatiable wife—a combination that could only produce a girl whose expectations for herself were high, too high for anyone to reach.

"You do look perfect. You are the diamond, Nadia; not a single soul in that ballroom shall utter an ill word about you—and if they do, it is out of pure envy," you said adoringly. "I must say, I cannot wait to meet my new brother; I bet he is a most handsome gentleman who shall ask you to dance, and in the morning, he shall call on you, saying how he cannot stop thinking about you and that you are as beautiful as a blooming flower."

Your teasing was accompanied by you dancing around playfully and blinking your eyes at a fast rate, which irritated your maid, who, of course, wouldn’t say a word to you beyond measure as she adjusted your dress. Nadia shoved your shoulder in a joking manner, smiling to herself.

"I shall find myself a love match, much like Baba and Mama—I desire a love like theirs; that is my only goal," her eyes communicated her feelings of yearn, while you nodded.

"You shall. You are your mother’s daughter, after all; you shall always get what it is you desire," you kissed her cheeks encouragingly, and she looked at you with thankfulness.

"Ladies! The carriages have arrived. Make haste!" Your mother’s demanding voice called from downstairs, resulting in you immediately strutting down the stairs.

___

The Jeon family had a reputation to uphold. They were known for their generosity, their welcoming spirits, their lavish homes, and their riches. The viscountess was nothing short of the perfect viscountess, continuing to be so, even after her husband’s tragic death a mere couple of years ago.

She intended to find herself a replacement that season, desperately wanting to marry off her eldest, the viscount. Her desperation did not come from a place of fear of undesirability; it was quite the opposite.

The viscountess feared her son might be looking for a wife for the wrong reasons. What she and her late husband shared was a love she wished for all of her children; yet her son seemed to see the world differently. He wanted a wife only to fulfill his duties and produce an heir.

"Jungkook, the search for happiness and love is not shameful. It is indeed the bravest thing a man can do—to listen to his heart and let it guide him," the viscountess tried to woo her son, who did not look up from his estate’s accounts ledgers. "You cannot hold interviews for eligible young ladies to find a suitable one; you shall know she is the one when you gaze upon her and converse with her for the very first time."

"When will you realize that what you and father had is the exception, not the rule? I am the viscount; I hold many responsibilities, and one of them is to wed a girl of good noble breeding to replace you as viscountess and produce an heir who shall lead this family when I am gone," Jungkook responded calmly. "I have indeed let my heart guide me; we are in agreement. I shall not continue with the interviews, as I have already found my future bride in Miss Nadia, the daughter of Baron Ln."

His mother was shocked at the revelation, looking at him with a glimpse of hope and wonder. "The diamond? Oh, how delightful! She must have great promise to have caught the eyes of the viscount."

She recalled the last ball when the queen announced Nadia as the diamond. Her son had not had a chance to talk to her that night, as the girl was occupied with many overbearing suitors and mothers.

"Yes, indeed, Mother. She is accomplished in literature, she plays many instruments, dances quite beautifully, and she comes from a most respectable family. She shall be my viscountess," he explained further. "We shall attend the ball at Danbury House tonight, united as one. Miss Nadia shall be there as well; we might find a suitable gentleman for Yoona if that is what she wishes." Jungkook was referring to his younger sister as he spoke.

"Wonderful," his mother’s eyes sparkled with joy.

___

The Jeon family arrived quite late, but in style. The viscount dressed in fitted trousers and a crisp white shirt that accentuated his strong arms and broad shoulders, his brothers dressed similarly, and his sisters in beautiful, rich silk gowns.

Jungkook was already on the lookout for a certain diamond who had caught the attention of the entire ton. He was not worried she would reject his advances; after all, he was the viscount, and there was not a single gentleman in London who could claim to be more eligible than him.

"Excuse me," he gracefully pushed through the people standing before the diamond, all waiting for a turn to speak with her. "I wish to dance with you, Miss Nadia."

As the voice of the viscount was heard, the stares of the ton overwhelmed Nadia, everybody in utter shock; the viscount, who mothers had been trying to get to look at their daughters for years, wished to dance with a girl in her first season out? How very surprising and envy-inducing.

Nadia nodded shyly, letting go of her very proud mother’s hand and accepting the viscount’s. She wondered where her sister was until she saw her at the drink stand fetching herself a lemonade.

"You are an excellent dancer, my lady," Jeongguk expressed, his hand in hers as they attracted all the eyes of the crowd.

"That is all your doing, my lord," she shyly answered, a blush creeping up on her cheeks. "You are quite a natural."

Their conversation continued for the next few minutes. They discussed very trivial matters, but Jeongguk made sure to let her know that she had caught his eye.

Eventually, Nadia moved on to another gentleman, and the viscount disappeared out of sight.

After a while of proudly watching your sister dance beautifully with potential suitors, you decided to step outside for a while to catch a breath of fresh air.

You were not particularly in the mood for dancing that night.

"Do not tell me the Viscount Jeon is looking for a love match this season; what happened to the viscount who visited his courtesan at least once a day and enjoyed a good brothel show?"

As you walked into the garden of the grand Danbury House, you heard a conversation that sparked your interest. A group of men, including the viscount who had just danced with your sister, and a few others you did not recognize, were talking. Letting your curiosity wander, you remained silent and listened to their talk unfold.

"I assure you, I am not out to find a love match; I am simply fulfilling my duties. Is it so impossible to find a suitable wife for a viscount, one who has hips meant for birthing, the ability to woo me with her intellect, and does not require love? It is simply a struggle," Jeongguk complained.

"Not a lady in London lives up to the standards of the viscount, I presume," the other man standing laughed. "I have seen you dance and converse with the diamond of this season; tell me, Viscount Jeon, does the diamond live up to your standards?"

"She is a respectable young woman who I plan on getting to know better, but I must not judge yet, for I fear I do not know what I might find out," the viscount answered the man’s question with honesty.

By then, you were sure your face was red with anger. How dare that man, that filthy rake, talk about your sister or any woman that way? And to think that Nadia was completely smitten with him already, you could not believe this audacious behavior.

They continued talking about useless things.

"We shall go back inside, my lord; are you coming with us?" one of them asked.

"No, you go. I shall join you later," he said, wanting to stay in the fresh air.

He started moving in your direction, and you quickly tried to get away, but your foot caught something, making a loud noise. "Who is there?"

You knew you were as good as caught, so you revealed yourself. "It is you. Were you eavesdropping?"

It seemed his audacity continued.

There was a spark in his eyes as he looked you up and down, as if he suddenly remembered the encounter you had in the woods or as if he really enjoyed what he saw.

"I was not! Also, one cannot eavesdrop in a public space…" you defended yourself. "The words you spoke were filthy and jarring, my lord; I cannot help but believe it is best if you do not let your interest in my sister unfold."

He visibly became uncomfortable, the evidence in his face demonstrating that he knew he had said things that did not particularly present him well.

"Those words were not meant for your ears, Miss Yn," he said, attempting to maintain his composure.

"I heard them regardless. If this is you with all your guards down, if these are your true feelings, you are not a suitable match for my sister," you emphasized defiantly.

The viscount lifted his eyebrows at you, letting his eyes linger on your body until he gazed into your face again. "You do realize there is not a lady in London who does not seek the kind of marriage I offer? That is, besides the privileges of becoming the viscountess."

"Oh, is that true? You assume the ladies of London are so easily charmed by a pleasing smile and nothing more?" you questioned him, causing him to grin.

"You find my smile pleasing?" he smirked down at you.

"I find your opinion of yourself entirely too high. And I stand by what I said; you do not suit my sister," you spoke, crossing your arms.

He skimmed your body, an amusing expression forming on his face. "Miss Yn, I remember the morning in the park very well. It seems to me that you do not care much for the rules of this society; that is why you spoke to your viscount in that manner."

"My apologies, my lord. I simply feel defensive over my sister," you apologized, feeling blood rush to your face.

"That is quite all right; I know what it is like to have siblings one cares for," his smile was warm, which surprised you.

After a few awkwardly intense looks between you two, you decided to bow respectfully and leave the scene.

You left Jeongguk standing for a while, the smile on his face visible even from a long distance; your jasmine scent lingered, and your words never left his mind.

___

Ever since the announcement, suitors from all over London had come to visit the Ln house to spend time with the diamond.

You quickly got used to seeing gentlemen in your house every morning, conversing with your older sister while you pretended to be occupied with something else, secretly listening to their conversations.

That day was no different. It was exciting, to say the least, not only because you were happy for your sister, who was receiving all these presents and love, but also because it broadened your understanding of courtships; your sister was paving the path for you in the future.

Oh, how excited you were for your future marriage.

As you walked downstairs after waking up from a long night of carefree sleep, you could already hear the distant sounds of a suitor.

You smiled to yourself, walking into the spacious living room, where you found your mother and father sitting on one couch with smiles that spoke volumes.

As you entered the room completely and saw who your sister was talking to, your face began to drop.

It was him. The viscount.

The man whom you could not escape from, for some reason.

While they finished their conversation, your mother noticed you standing there. "Good morning, Yn! Look who came to visit your sister first thing in the morning! Greet the Viscount Jeon."

You bowed respectfully and begrudgingly spoke, "Good morning, my lord."

He simply smirked, reciprocating the greeting.

It was as if he was provoking you with his handsome face and effortless demeanor.

"I shall head home now," he announced, standing up from his seat. "Breaking my fast here was very lovely indeed, Lord and Lady Ln; I must thank you dearly."

They exchanged pleasantries and enthusiastic goodbyes, of course, not without the viscount promising to come back tomorrow around the same time.

As he stepped outside, you followed him, pretending to go on a garden stroll.

"My lord!" you called after him, making him turn around to you.

"Yes, Miss Yn?" he spoke with a tinge of teasing, which seemed to always be present when he spoke with you.

His coachman was patiently waiting, watching you two standing face to face.

"Why have you called on my sister?" you asked; you were always known for your bluntness, which was something you tried to work on.

The viscount sent you a questioning but amusing look before replying, "Am I not allowed to?"

You shook your head, trying to put your thoughts into words.

"You are allowed," you answered hesitantly. "But what I said to you at Danbury House, I meant. I do not believe you are the right man for my sister."

There was a short exchange of glances between you; you hoping he understood your concerns and him wondering how you gathered the audacity to speak to a viscount that way.

It was not that he was angry about it; he was merely surprised. He had never had a person talk to him that way.

"Miss Yn," he started, his voice low. "I believe your sister can make her own decisions, can she not? And I must say, she did not seem to have a problem with my presence at all… quite the contrary."

You knew he was right, but there was something in your intuition telling you that this would not work out; you looked at him and did not see your sister’s future husband.

Yes, he was wealthy, and he was quite handsome, but still… he was not the man your sister was looking for.

"I believe I know my sister better than you do, my lord," you insisted, as stubborn as you always were.

He simply chuckled. "I do not doubt it," before hopping into the carriage and waving goodbye to you.

You could not comprehend how severely irksome he was.

___

In the following weeks, Jungkook tried his hardest to impress your sister; calling on her, giving her extravagant gifts, attending events and balls seemingly only for her.

It felt like he could propose to her at any moment, and you did not like it.

Your sister, on the other hand, seemed to be very happy with the viscount’s affection for her.

Who would not be?

One day, your mother hosted a gathering in the diamond’s name—an opportunity for suitors to see your sister and make themselves known to her.

The Jeon family was invited and set to attend, but the invitation for the viscount was lost in the mail.

Jungkook was very busy that day; meetings and managing accounts and staff took up a great deal of his time.

He did not have time to prepare himself for the crucial task ahead.

After asking his brother, Namjoon, for help with the poetry he intended to read out loud at the Ln house, he read over the piece of paper and could not control his scoffs; he thought poetry might be the most deceptive tool of all.

Such pretty, empty words.

He ordered a carriage, hastily moving to make it to the party that he was so conveniently not invited to, and hoped for the best.

The doorman immediately let him in, obviously knowing who the Viscount Jeon was—a familiar face to all of London indeed. Marching in as if he owned the place, he found a huge gathering of gentlemen performing their talents—or lack thereof—to impress Nadia.

You and Nadia were sitting next to each other on the sofa; you wore a judging yet amused face, and Nadia looked very grateful for the time they took for her.

He dreaded that his eyes lingered on you for far longer than they did on your sister; you were wearing an accentuating, expensive gown and a classic updo, your expressive eyes drew him in.

"Please excuse my tardiness," Jungkook took his chance right when someone finished his performance, making a loud announcement that turned everybody’s head. "I shall read a poem I wrote for Miss Nadia.”

Your expression was hard to read; though you were certainly annoyed by his sudden appearance, there was something gleaming in your eyes that he could not overlook. Your eyes locked in a room full of people, something that seemed to happen quite frequently between the two of you. Your effect on him made him nervous to perform; for some reason, he cared for your opinion quite a bit.

Naturally, everybody respected the viscount and his wishes, giving him their full attention. Nadia’s smile was beaming; your mother was more than happy to see the viscount show further interest in her daughter, and the rest were in awe of the viscount, whose shell was very hard to penetrate to make such an effort for the diamond.

"What is it to truly admire a woman?" he read from a small piece of paper in his hand, and your heart began to beat faster than it should have. "To look at her and feel inspiration, to delight in her beauty, so much that all— all your defenses—"

Suddenly, he stopped; everybody in the room quieted as they attentively listened to his beautiful words. His sudden silence caught some off guard, including you, who sat there looking at him with longing eyes, and Nadia, whose smile slowly vanished. Whispers began to break out.

"My apologies, I cannot do this," the viscount stated, resulting in Nadia frowning slightly. "Truth be told, I am not a man of poetry; those words are someone else’s entirely."

A few quiet gasps could be heard around the crowd of people, but Jungkook did not shy away from speaking the truth.

"Miss Nadia... I cannot offer you pretty words and rhymes, but I assure you, when it comes to action and duty; I shall never be found lacking."

Your breath hitched in your throat, as if his words were hitting you in your chest.

There was a part of you that was grateful for his honesty; the probability that your sister would not want to continue a courtship based on a false perception.

But there was another part that hated his honesty; why did the man you were supposed to hate repeatedly find his way into your heart by revealing sides of him you felt drawn to?

You knew the viscount did not want a love match.

And you loathed him.

So why did your chest burn with every word he spoke?

You could tell your sister was lost for words, watching the viscount with curious eyes.

"Nadia..." your voice came out smaller than you expected. "If you wish for him to leave, I—"

But your sister’s response shocked you. She stood up and clapped her hands, a sign of approval for the viscount’s words.

Others started joining her, but you stayed put in your place.

Jungkook’s growing smile beamed, feeling relieved that Nadia didn’t seem to mind his lack of verbal affection.

"Nadia," you murmured to your sister. "Did you not hear what he said? He cannot offer you the love that you long for."

Nadia let out an understanding "I know," before explaining herself, "I have come to accept that. I do not need a love match that can turn into an incompatible marriage in the future; I now merely desire a stable, harmonious marriage, and I believe the viscount can offer that to me."

You did not know what to do besides sigh and nod. "I just want you to be happy, Nini."

Your sister took your hand and lovingly squeezed it before giggling. "I do hope you and the viscount can find common ground throughout our marriage."

You simply awkwardly smiled at her to mask the storm brewing inside you.

She got up to confront the viscount, while you sat on the couch, staring into nothingness while contemplating the confusing feelings that were so foreign to you.

___

With every passing day and night, Jungkook found himself consumed by thoughts of you.

You appeared in his dreams, haunting him like a beautiful ghost, the face behind his sleepless nights.

He was aware of the problematic nature of the situation—courting one sister while dreaming of the other was not something a gentleman did.

But your beauty resembled summer nights and hidden love letters, while your resistant character was consuming and complex; yet he saw kindness in your eyes.

To be truthful, he could not stop his thoughts surrounding you since that morning in the park—the first time you two talked, the first time he heard your beautiful voice.

While you swore you would not admit it to a living soul, you felt similarly.

The viscount refused to leave your mind, appearing in your dreams unannounced and causing havoc inside your heart with every moment you stayed in or out of his presence.

You could not bear it.

Not only did the viscount consume you, but shame accompanied him.

But you promised yourself it was a fleeting moment, and he told himself to suppress his feelings.

___

"My dears, we have received an invitation from Jeon House, inviting us for a week to their country residence in order to continue the courtship away from the ton’s attention; is that not lovely?" your mother spoke, excitement evident in her voice. She was sat beside your father, who was paying more attention to the pie.

"Ah, yes, I’m afraid I cannot join you for that trip; I have business to attend to here in the city," your father spoke, placing a reassuring hand over your mother’s. "But I am certain you will handle it yourself, dear."

Your mother simply nodded and smiled, still in a very happy state about where her daughter’s courtship was headed. Nadia was sat next to you with a similar shy smile on her face.

You, on the other hand, could not help but feel a strange sensation; it was so foreign and something you could not describe. You loved seeing your sister happy, yet there was always a selfish voice in your head.

What if the viscount were to propose?

You began to imagine that scenario in your mind, and you did not like the thought of it at all.

But you feared it wasn’t because of your ‘hatred’ for the viscount, but because of something that was quite the opposite.

___

After packing, organizing carriages, and your mother stressing the entire day, you finally made your journey to the countryside.

It was only your mother, your sister, and you, as your mother thought your younger siblings were better off at home with the housekeeper.

You felt beautiful, dressed in the finest clothes, the most beautiful cosmetics put on your already lovely face. But you were in an undeniable state of distress.

Just as you stepped out of the carriage after four long hours, you were met with the friendly faces of the Jeon family.

Your eyes immediately met the viscount’s, who always seemed to have a certain look of yearning and some sort of pain when he saw you. You locked eyes with his deep brown ones, which somehow spoke a thousand words. His nostrils flared slightly, and it was as if you were both in a trance, unable to take your eyes off each other.

You shared a moment swimming in his eyes before he slowly diverted his gaze elsewhere.

Somehow, he looked even more handsome than the last time you had seen him.

You rued those feelings, the tingle you felt near him, the desperate need to be in his strong arms, to be the only one he knew to love—those feelings you had only read about in books, the tingling in body parts you were taught not to speak of.

But more than that, you cursed yourself for feeling them; how dare you think about your sister’s intended that way?

Were you a girl of no upbringing? Were you not a lady intended for marriage in just less than a year? It was breaking not only your soul but your perception of yourself to be plagued by these feelings; but you knew it would break you more to betray your sister, so you knew you had to stay quiet.

Amidst your overwhelming thoughts, a graceful young lady who was about the age of your older sister and bore a great resemblance to the viscount approached you, right after greeting your mother. She stood next to the viscount, and unbeknownst to you, noticed the shared glances of longing between the viscount and you, surprised to see her usually earnest brother so taken by a girl.

"You must be Miss Nadia," she spoke with a gentle smile. "I am Miss Yoona, the viscount’s younger sister. I have heard very much about you. You are even more beautiful than he described."

You bowed respectfully, yet you did not have the words to express that you were not who she thought you were.

Jungkook stepped in, embarrassment slightly evident on his face as he coughed a little. "Yoona, that is not Miss Nadia; that is her little sister—Miss Yn."

He then pointed to your sister, who was greeting the viscountess. You saw a look of confusion on Yoona’s face.

After everybody greeted each other, you settled into the rooms assigned to you and made yourselves at home.

The rooms were spacious, clean, and very elegantly decorated.

The Jeons were indeed a very generous family.

You suppressed the thought of how lovely it would be to marry into the family, as it was just a thought for you, but the reality for your sister.

And you did not want to hurt your sister or yourself.

___

Despite the comfortable beds and the expensive silk fabric of the sheets, you could not sleep.

Not only because you were not used to sleeping on foreign beds in foreign houses, but because, if your mind could not rest, you could not.

Nadia, on the other hand, had fallen fast asleep on the bed next to yours.

You needed something to distract you from the chaos in your head; a glass of cold water or a breath of fresh air would do.

As silently as you could, you got out of bed and started wandering the halls of the grand Jeon house with a lamp in your hand.

It was magnificent.

You breathed in the warmth, smiling to yourself; it was as if the house knew what a loving family owned it.

While walking towards nothing specific, you stumbled into a large room, empty of people and full of books.

You entered it with a calm heart, grabbing one book after another, taking in the beauty of the written words.

Your calmness was short-lived as you heard the huge door open. You gasped loudly and held up the lamp to see who it was.

Before you stood the viscount in a nightshirt that modestly exposed his muscular arms. He looked handsome, even at nighttime.

"Are you not able to sleep, Miss Yn?" he asked while fully entering the room.

You shyly turned your whole body toward him, feeling exposed in your silky nightgown that clung to your every curve.

Feeling his eyes flicker over you, a sense of timidity washed over you. "No... I cannot seem to fall asleep. I do apologize for roaming around without permission, my lord; I simply could not resist these many books."

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head slightly.

"You do not need to apologize," he assured you, now standing in front of you. "This is...was my father’s library. He read and collected books from all over the world. He was a very well-read man."

"May his soul rest easy," you softly sighed, pouting slightly at the mention of his deceased father. "He sounds like an extraordinary man."

Jungkook nodded in agreement. "He was. I would not be the man and the viscount that I am today if it were not for him."

You did not answer, simply making space for a short moment of beautiful silence between you. Your eyes were intertwined with his deep ones; you felt as if you could dive into them.

"Can I ask you a question?" he suddenly asked; you simply nodded. "Why is it that you are so opposed to the idea of me marrying your sister? Do you truly hate me so?"

You broke the eye contact for a second, trying to gather your answer, while your heartbeat undeniably quickened. "I do not hate you, my lord. I simply worry for my sister. I want the very best for her."

The viscount came closer to you, chuckling again, exposing his barely visible dimples. "And you believe that I cannot offer her the best?"

Your arms were now touching, sending electricity through your body.

"I simply cannot forget what I overheard in the gardens at Danbury House," you answered his question as confidently as you could.

Jungkook’s eyes slightly darkened at your words. "Those words were not for your ears, Miss Yn."

You started to become defensive, letting out a "But I did hear them regardless."

He poked his cheek with his tongue, his nostrils flaring up with mild anger, stepping closer to you until there was hardly any space left between you. "You do not know how much you aggravate me, Yn Ln."

You now felt his fresh breath against your face, causing dizziness.

"And you," you uttered quietly in response, your eyelids becoming heavier. "You believe you do not vex me? I have only grown to accept your presence for my sister’s sake, but only God knows how long I will last in this... this lie."

Jungkook tucked your hair behind your ear, leaning in to whisper into it. "This lie that you insist upon, what is it exactly? That you and I vex each other... or that we cannot seem to get away from one another?"

His voice was low and thick, tinged with a hint of teasing. You slightly backed away, but only to meet his dark eyes, which seemed to challenge you.

He leaned in until his lips were almost brushing against yours.

"My lord," you spoke in a soft whisper. "I—"

The sound of the door opening interrupted you.

Before you could get away from each other, a shocked Yoona witnessed the scene; as quickly as she entered, she left again, closing the door after saying a rushed "I am so sorry.”

You separated from Jungkook immediately after, running out in embarrassment and shame, leaving Jungkook standing in the middle of the library.

You could not believe what you had done.

___

Dinner with the Jeons was incredibly amusing; they were a big, loving family who were not afraid to share jokes and stories, even in front of guests.

To say you enjoyed yourself at dinner would have been an understatement.

In a moment of beautiful chaos, everybody laughed while simultaneously discussing intellectual topics. Jungkook raised his glass and stood up to make an announcement.

He was seated at the head of the table.

"I would very much like to start my toast by thanking our dear guests for taking their time to visit us at our country house. We are very delighted by your presence here with us," he started his tasteful speech. "Miss Nadia, it has been a delight to get to know you further. It is safe to say the Baron and Baroness Ln deserve praise for raising such an upstanding, demure woman... I would like to ask you a question, Miss Nadia."

While he spoke, the entire room fell silent, everybody attentively listening. His words added suspense to the atmosphere, making everyone wonder what he wanted to ask her.

It was obvious what everybody immediately thought of—for he was most likely going to ask for her hand in marriage.

Your mother and Nadia exchanged excited looks while you felt a thick lump form in your throat. The Jeons were all looking at Jungkook with an air of anticipation, waiting for him to finally speak the words.

Yoona tried her best not to gaze upon her brother with a frown of disapproval after she experienced whatever it was that happened between him and you the other night.

Jungkook began to awkwardly cough and put on somewhat of a feigned smile. "I wanted to ask you if you were ready for a game of pall-mall with this family or if you’d rather spare yourself the mayhem."

The whole table broke out in laughter—partially because they genuinely laughed and partially to cover up the awkwardness of the situation.

But you did not laugh, and neither did your sister.

"I would be... honored to play a game of pall-mall with you and your family, my lord," your sister tried to mask her sadness playfully.

During the rest of the dinner, your hand was placed on your sister’s back, soothingly running it up and down her spine.

___

Hours after the dinner, it was nighttime when you were supposed to be asleep, but you and Nadia found yourselves sitting on the bed—her head on your lap and your hand in her hair.

You always comforted each other in non-ideal situations, but this time felt different; it was the first time you felt you had wronged your sister, being the reason for her despair.

"Perhaps the viscount does not wish to propose because of you," your sister suggested, looking up and trying to gauge your reaction.

Your breath slightly hitched as you felt your cheeks warm.

"Uh—whatever do you mean, sister?" you carefully asked.

Nadia gave you a knowing look, presumably confused as to how you did not understand what she meant.

"The two of you loathe one another!" she exclaimed, her words making you sigh in relief. "He is probably under the impression that you would not approve."

You chuckled lightly at the irony. "Nini, he does not care what I think! I am your younger sister, not Baba or even Mama. Even if I do not approve, I do not make the decisions for this family; Baba does."

Your sister nodded but elaborated further, "I know, but there is something in my heart telling me that you are the reason he is so... reluctant."

Your heart skipped a beat, hoping she would not come to the right conclusions, wondering how you could steer her away from thoughts that could possibly lead to the destruction of your sisterly relationship.

"It is not as if I am desperate to marry him, but I believe it would make Mama and Baba unbelievably happy if I were to marry the viscount," she continued, sighing as she absentmindedly played with her hair. "He is wealthy, and he comes from a great family... I do not want to disappoint them."

"If the viscount does not wish to propose to you, it is not because you are lacking, Nini. You shall find wealthy suitors in every city you visit," you stated your opinion. "But I shall talk to him about it if that is what you wish."

Nadia jumped up from your lap, now facing you.

"I should very much like that, Yn," she admitted.

You gave her a gentle smile before getting up to pay the viscount’s office a visit.

His office was on the other side of the mansion—a long way to walk—but with your thoughts running wild, you did not feel the length of the walk.

You knocked on his door hesitantly and entered after he called out, "Come in."

He was seated at his paper-covered desk, staring down with intensity before looking up and seeing you.

"Miss Yn," he addressed you with a trace of surprise in his voice. "Is everything quite all right?"

You did not feel like wasting time, so you jumped right to your point.

"You have been set on courting my sister despite my every objection, and now you plan to cast her aside?" you accused, your tone defensive. "What has she done to deserve this?"

His eyes darkened; he momentarily forgot about the paperwork, getting up from his chair to walk up to you.

"It is not her," he raised his voice. "It is you."

His honest words felt like a gentle hit in your face; your intuition knew what he meant.

"But I am to marry next season!" you exclaimed reactively.

"You believe that is what I desire you to do?" he shouted, his jaw clenched. "There is not a thing you can do—not a corner on this earth that you can travel to—that will free me from this torment."

He continued, "I am a gentleman; my father raised me to act with honor, but that honor hangs by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence."

"You are the bane of my existence... and the object of all my desires," the viscount added, almost in agony, coming closer to you, whispering in your ear. "Night and day, I dream of you. And when I—do you even know all the ways a lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you..."

Your breath hitched; your tight dress accentuated your breasts as your breath quickened with every word he spoke with every step he took closer to you.

"I did not ask for this," you finally got the chance to talk, facing him directly, barely an inch away. "To be plagued by these feelings... being distracted every time you enter the room, hiding those feelings from my sister... I did not ask for any of it."

"If I were to wed your sister, that would bind me to you for eternity," he stated, stepping away from you. "And I would spend my whole marriage dreaming of you, wanting you, longing for you... until the last thread of my honor snaps. Is that the future you want for us? For your sister?"

You shook your head, unable to say anything.

"Then I shall not go forward with this courtship," he declared, his eyes burning into your skin. "If that is what you wish."

You slightly shook your head—not out of disagreement, but as a signal to yourself to stop the urge to melt into him, a dizzying feeling taking over you.

"It is very much what I wish, my lord," you admitted in a whisper. "I could not bear it..."

He stepped closer again, now breathing your air. "What could you not bear?"

Your fingers grazed his and it felt like a fire ignited inside you.

"I could not," you whispered into his ear, fingers tapping gently against his thick arms. "I could not bear the sight of you with her."

Jungkook leaned into your touch, his eyes closing from the overwhelming urge to embrace your whole body.

"Yn..." he softly breathed into your ear. "All I find myself thinking about—all I find myself being able to breathe for—is you. Do you think I want to be in this position? Contending with these thoughts of wanting to be nowhere except with you. Wanting to run away with you. Acting on the most impure, forbidden desires, no matter... how much I must remind myself I am a gentleman and you are a lady."

Your breath hitched, and you felt a sensation between your legs, pressing them together. He continued, "It is maddening how much you consume my every being."

You grazed your hand further down his arms, eyes locked and bodies almost pressing against each other; if anyone were to catch you, it would be scandalous.

"No," you protested in a whisper. "It is you— you who has thrown my world off its axis, you who has made me question my sanity, you who consumes my every thought, so do not dare to blame me... do not blame me."

Your lips brushed against each other, his breath hitting your lips and your breath hitting his, before they finally collided and became one in a passionate kiss. His hands wandered down to your defined waist, grabbing onto you as if you would fly away.

Your hearts were racing; he cupped your face with one hand and fiddled with your dress with the other; you melted into one.

"Tell me you want this," Jungkook insisted in a breathy, aroused voice.

"I want this, my lord," you purred against him, before gently biting into his lower lip. "Teach me everything you know."

Jungkook had no self-control in that moment, feeling like an animal in the wilderness.

He loosened the ties of your dress with an urgent hand, and you felt the cool air caress your skin as the fabric fell open. Your breasts, heavy and full, spilled out of the dress, begging for his attention. Jungkook's eyes locked onto them, his pupils dilated with desire.

His hands wandered down to your hips, gripping the curve of your bottom through the thin fabric of your undergarment. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as he pulled you closer, his mouth still devouring yours. You could feel the heat emanating from him, the tension in his body a testament to the passion that burned between you.

"Are you certain?" he asked once again, his hands working to remove your undergarments.

You simply nodded, too dizzy and aroused to form a sentence.

Your hands wandered over his shirt, playing with the buttons before tugging on it, urging him to take it off, which he did, revealing his strong arms and chest. You kept your hands glued to them while he took off your bodice, revealing your full breasts to him.

Lifting you up and sitting you down on his desk, he immediately massaged your breasts and took one in his mouth, licking and sucking on it, making you moan in pleasure. "I have dreamt of this very moment for so long, Yn."

You ‘hmm’ed in response, grinding your hips against his in search of friction. You felt a big bulge in his pants, moving your own up and down on it, resulting in quiet groans from Jungkook.

"I..." you tried your best to formulate a thought. "I am so... sticky between my legs, my lord; is that normal?"

Jungkook chuckled amidst his arousal, leaning in to plant a short kiss on your lips. "Yes, my love; that is quite a good sign. Do not worry."

You felt comfortable with him; you admitted, "I have the same feeling quite often when I think of you," without realizing the implications.

Jungkook threw his head back in desire, unable to contain his urges to take you right there.

He took your hand in his and led it to his pants.

"Feel it," he urged, his voice simmering with lust as you began to grab his hardness and gently rubbing it. "That is what you do to me, Yn."

You tugged at his pants, and he quickly took them off, first revealing his drawers, which he removed as well.

He could not waste any more time.

As he revealed his large penis, you gasped.

"Do not be afraid, my love," he assured. "I will be very gentle.”

You were seated on the desk, and he was standing before you, his naked parts touching, with gasps and moans filling the entire room.

He positioned himself in front of you, looking into your eyes to ensure you were ready, only to be met with your awaiting gaze.

"What are you going to do now?" you hesitantly asked, hands on his bare arms.

His hands were placed lovingly on your soft waist, soothing you to ensure you were comfortable. "I will enter you now."

You nodded, not fully understanding the idea.

You blamed the mamas who were too ashamed to speak of essential things like that one.

Slowly entering the tip inside you, you gasped from the pain. "It hurts, my lord."

Jungkook stopped for a moment to cup your face, planting a kiss on your lips. "It will take time, but soon enough, you shall find pleasure in it, I promise."

You gazed at him, immediately believing his words, but wondering, "Does it hurt you as well?"

Jungkook laughed at that, slowly starting to thrust gently into you. "No, not at all. It is a very pleasant feeling for me."

His words came out as grunts, which you found incredibly attractive.

"Well, that is certainly unfair," you pouted, but gradually adjusted to the new feeling.

Jungkook agreed with you, saying, "I know," while chuckling.

As you began to get used to his thrusts, you leaned in even closer, urging him to fully enter you and thrust harder.

"You are simply the most beautiful woman I have laid eyes upon," he praised with hushed grunts, to which you cooed.

The fact that your families were outside the four walls of his office, peacefully sleeping, was something long forgotten by both of you, alongside the idea that he was the man who was supposed to be courting your sister.

You chose to forget about the one thing that was printed in your mind for the past months, even if only for a few minutes.

His thrusts began to become stronger, eliciting seductive sounds from both of you. His strategy to make less noise was kissing you almost the entire time.

His big hands roamed your entire body, and your legs wrapped around his hips; you were surprised at your ease—being with him felt not only beautiful but also effortless.

After a few final thrusts, his hips began to stutter, and a foreign sensation started to form in your stomach, causing you to look at him with a helpless expression, to which he answered, "I know, I know, my love; just allow it to happen."

You hesitantly let go, your head tilting back as you felt yourself reach a pinnacle—a feeling of pure bliss.

Jungkook could barely speak understandably, closing his eyes as he savored the last few thrusts before he reached his orgasm, pulling out and coming on a piece of cloth before he could release inside you.

"You did beautifully," he smiled and kissed your forehead lovingly.

You simply smiled back, the shame slowly returning as you put on your dress again.

He engulfed you in a gentle embrace before whispering into your ear, "Go rest now, my love; we shall see what we do tomorrow. Do not worry about anything; I will take care of it. That is a promise."

Somehow, you did not feel comforted by his words, but you reluctantly obliged, ignoring the slight pain in your legs as you walked through the halls of the mansion back to the room you had to temporarily share with your sister, who was already asleep.

You could not sleep that night, too consumed by wondering how and when you became that bad of a person.

___

The following day, you avoided Jungkook as much as you could. You felt ashamed, dirty; you felt like a bad person.

Your uncommonly quiet behavior did not go unnoticed by your mother and your sister; they kept pestering you about it.

But you did not know what to say to them.

Throughout the entire game of pall-mall, you acted out of the ordinary, not playing as well as you normally could.

Nadia and you were playing with Jungkook and four of his siblings, who were all much better players than the two of you.

"It seems you have forgotten the game, sister," Nadia giggled, watching you struggle with the mallet.

You kicked the ball hard in the wrong direction and almost tripped over; if it had not been for the strong hand that held your waist up.

"Be careful," the viscount’s deep voice rang in your ears.

Although you could stand on your own, he continued to hold onto your waist, his lips almost touching your ear. He forgot his surroundings, and so did you, as you locked eyes and shut out everything that was not each other.

It was a sight of pure chemistry, pure love; a blind man could see the feelings sparking between the two of you.

Visions of the prior night swirled in your mind as you leaned into his muscular body, completely in tune with him even in sheer silence.

Until Yoona interrupted you two with a cough, causing you to separate as quickly as possible from each other with more than embarrassed faces.

Jungkook’s siblings awkwardly laughed, and Nadia’s eyes, which you were avoiding, were boring into you penetratingly.

After the game, you went back to your rooms to prepare for lunch.

Strategically dodging your sister as much as possible, you pretended like nothing had happened between the viscount and you, while your insides brewed with fire.

But Nadia was the confrontational type.

"I see the way you look at each other, Yn," she admitted to you, hurt evident in her voice. "I have seen it for a long time, but I thought... you hated him. Had I known you did not, I would have ended the courtship."

"Nini..." you whispered. "I did not want to hurt you. I do not know how I could have been so selfish. You do not know how much I hate myself right now. I did not tell you because I was ashamed of myself... I did not want you to think that I purposely wanted to steal the man you love."

"I am not in love with him!" Nadia exclaimed in response, "I love you! You are my sister, Yn. If you would have told me from the beginning, I would not have been angry with you."

"I am so deeply sorry, Nadia," your face was a tearful mess at that point. "I did not know what to do; I thought... I was sure this would be just a passing infatuation, but... please forgive me, sister."

Your sister’s gentle hands found their way to your tear-stained cheeks. "I understand..."

"Please, I beg of you, do not let this ruin our sisterhood," you sounded pathetic, but you did not care.

You loved a man you were not supposed to love; you did things you were never supposed to do.

"You are my little sister, Yn," even in anger, her voice was soft and assuring. "You always will be... but do give me time to process this."

You nodded, immediately pulling her into a warm, strong embrace, whispering "I love you" to her.

___

You traveled back to London in complete silence, your sister still unsure how to talk to you and your mother, disappointed in the lack of proposals, but still happy with the time spent together.

For a couple of weeks, you did not hear anything from the viscount or his family. You tried to distract yourself with books and art, but nothing filled the emptiness in your heart.

You knew you gave the viscount the impression that you did not wish to speak with him, but you longed to hear or read his words.

One day, your mother entered your room with a pensive look. "Mama, what is it?"

"Yn... I have news, very important ones," she sat down at the edge of your spacious bed and took your hand in hers. "The viscount... he asked for your hand this morning. Your Baba approves, and Nadia does too, my love."

Your heart jumped outside your body for a moment, completely in shock.

You were happy, but you were not at the same time; perhaps the viscount only proposed because he was the gentleman he claimed to be and was merely fulfilling his duty?

"The viscount does not love me, Mama; I know it..." you sniveled, sadness washing over you. "He is simply fulfilling his duties because we..."

Your mother cut you off with an understanding look.

"Yn..." she spoke softly. "It is well; you do not need to tell me what happened between you and the viscount."

You sent a grateful gaze at her.

She always knew the right words to say when you were in distress.

"But, my dear," your mother expressed in an almost hesitant tone. "Whether the viscount wishes to marry you out of duty or out of love... I believe we should accept his proposal."

You were not angry at her idea because you wanted to marry him more than anything else in the world, but you feared he felt forced into proposing.

It was as if your heart had declared war on your mind.

Reluctantly, you nodded.

"I understand," you softly whispered. "Tell Baba to accept his proposal, but I wish to speak with the viscount beforehand."

Immediately after what you said, your mother ordered the maid to send an invitation for tea to the Jeon house.

___

The next day, Jungkook arrived with his mother by his side and an expensive bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"These are for you," he handed them to you, smiling shyly.

You silently thanked him, feeling the awkwardness brew; thankfully, your mother took the viscountess aside and left you and Jungkook enough room for a private conversation.

"I have not heard back about the proposal yet," Jungkook carefully started.

You nodded. "I have my Mama’s and Baba’s approval... Nadia’s too."

Jungkook watched you with attentive eyes, trying to gather what was holding you back from taking him as your husband.

"But I am afraid you are only proposing because of what happened at the country house," you confessed to him, looking down at your lap. "I do not want a marriage that is based solely on duties, Jungkook."

Jungkook looked frustrated, shaking his head.

"Listen to me, Yn," he grabbed your chin gently, locking his eyes with yours. "I love you. I have loved you from the moment we raced each other in that park. I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we've been together, and every time we have been apart. You do not have to accept it, embrace it, or even allow it. Knowing you, you probably will not. But you must know it in your heart. You must feel it because I do. I love you."

You looked away for a second, tears of joy and longing filling your eyes.

While you gathered your words, he continued, "I know I am imperfect, but I will humble myself before you because I cannot imagine my life without you, and that is why I wish to marry you."

At that point, your face was tear-stained all over, returning your gaze to him as you smiled delicately.

"I love you, Jungkook, and I will marry you," you declared. "But do not think there will come a day where you do not vex me."

He now wore a big smile on his face, leaning in to engulf your full lips in a gentle kiss.

"Is that a promise, Yn Ln?" he breathed against your lips.

___

hiiii, i’m back!! i hope u all get my vision of jungkook as the viscount bridgerton because i do. btw, i’m sorry i’m not rlly active on here but i am a college student okay, i am very busy i cannot help it😭😭 i try to write as much as possible but a girl’s gotta have priorities. anyway, i hope everybody who reads this has a nice day💋 (btw, i love ur feedback, ur comments, etc. so pls don’t be shy)

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txttletale · 3 months ago

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"you, specifically, are a bad and evil person that all my posts are written to condemn" this is not what i said. i'm sorry for not being clearer. i just feel like everyone in this space, not just you, look down on people who live in the first world as people who willingly don't change anything about how the world works when it's just not that simple. i know you all love to combat this and say otherwise but it will never change the simple reality that for some people it really is very hard, if not impossible, to do anything politically, for a variety of reasons. i'm disabled, i live in a remote part of the country, and i'm bad at talking to people. i don't have the money to just move to a population center or get lessons on how to speak to people. i can't do anything and i feel like every time you or one of the other communists on tumblr talks about the imperial core, i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to, if i were in one of your situations. obviously i want things to change. i don't want genocide to be a thing that's constantly happening, i don't want my country to have its tendrils dug into every other country, i want socialism and eventually global communism, and if i could do anything meaningful-- anything at all-- to achieve those goals i would be working on that. but right now that just is not the case for me, and i feel like i'm not alone in that either. i just wish you had like a smidgen of empathy for some of the people living here who don't fit into your stereotype of what a member of the imperial core looks like-- i'm not even trying to say that sarcastically, it genuinely feels like you all don't see us as human. like nyanguard especially seems to think of us as incapable of saving ourselves, and one of the reblogs to my first ask just said they "like to imagine that (i'm) crying as i type this". how am i supposed to react to that? is this how all of you feel about people like me? would your feelings about me change if i lived in another country, or would you find some other excuse to talk down to me? is it really just the country i live in that's the problem, here? i'm not trying to accuse you, i'm asking this question genuinely.

i know it's tempting to respond to this with a snarky comment but please just try to understand where i am coming from. i really am willing to help if i can.

i don't think any marxist seriously has a political theory of imperialism that amounts to "citizens of the imperial core simply choose not to do anything because they are all individually bad people". i mean the whole point of marxism is that economic relations are the ultimate drivers of historical change, not abstract psychological or moral qualities of people.

i'm sympathetic to your situation! the imperial core is a very atomizing place to live, and there are places and situations where there's just no practical path to getting organized and taking meaningful political action in the near future. however, your problem here is:

i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to

nobody is posting about you, personally. like at the end of the day you have to learn to either not take posts like that personally or just block everyone who makes them to manage your own time on the computer vis a vis niceness--i don't think it's the responsibility of me or any other communist to constantly provide asterisks and carveouts that we're not talking about the Good Ones Who Have Extenuating Circumstances when we talk about the usa and its material political base.

& in the same way that you ask for empathy for your situation i would ask you to extend a level of understanding to people whose homelands and countrymen and communities have been devastated by US coups and sanctions and invasions, that they have as much a right to express the rage and fury and hurt of that cultural legacy as you do to express your own sadness about your own situation. imagine, for example, how you would feel if your grandparents could not reliably get medicine because of us sanctions. & of course the correct target for these feelings are not random usamericans--but these posts are also not serious politcal platforms, they are venting from people who live their lives under the weight of empire.

if you think what they're saying is unfair to you, then you need to develop the ability to say 'well, i understand why they would feel that way' and move on. like i understand why you are upset, and i don't say this to be dismissive, but as real advice: it is not fair (especially to bloggers from the global south) to essentially rest your happiness and self-worth at their feet and demand that they validate you.

genuinely, i hope this helps. it's all i really have to say on the matter.

#ask

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bluesgrxce · 5 months ago

Text

Yandere (machine-ish?) Connor Headcanons

I love soft deviant Connor like anyone else does, but machine Connor is sooo,,, omgggggggg..... I've been holding in my thoughts about him for so long that it's unhealthy. So I went for a Hannah Montana best of both worlds kinda thing. What if Connor acted like a deviant around you, but a machine towards everyone else?

How this happens is something I can't quite explain. Connor probably couldn't, either. To everyone else, an android is either a machine or a deviant-- There's no such thing as an inbetween. He would have agreed with this prior to bonding with you. You probably treated him in a way that nobody else did, sympathizing with him on a deeper level or making him question his morals, so he can see why that would push him to deviancy.

But when you're not around, all those overwhelming emotions he felt just fade away. The mission goes back front and center to his priorities. He only feels two things at that point: confusion that runs his LED wild and desire for you that makes his thirium pump pound even when he's not in motion. Nobody else can bring about such reactions within him.

He runs plenty of diagnostic checks in an attempt to figure out what's wrong with him. At one point, he'll try to avoid you and force himself into staying a machine, but that just makes him less efficient because he'll constantly worry about you instead.

He would eventually accept himself as a deviant, but only so he wouldn't have to take orders from Cyberlife anymore. He doesn't want anything standing between the two of you. But he still largely acts like a machine and he doesn't mind that at all. He just sets his new mission to making you entirely his...

Even once Connor sees his emotions as real, it's still his natural instinct to mask them. Especially negative ones like anger, sadness, and jealousy. He wouldn't want to show them unless they benefit his situation somehow, such as if he wanted to persuade or intimidate you/others. Emotions only matter to him if they're useful.

For example, he *does* feel the desire to show affection towards you, and he will do it. He'll compliment you whenever you do something admirable. He'll reassure you and show geniune worry whenever you're upset about something. He'll even study romance media just to learn how to act more natural in the relationship (He thinks that'll help him act more natural, anyway... Lord help you if he gets his hands on Twilight 💀 But if the Bryan Dechart Twilight commercial is anything to go off of, he'd look good as a vampire, at least).

But he doesn't do that stuff simply because he loves you. He does it because he knows your relationship benefits from it and you'll likely leave him if you feel neglected. He wouldn't bother if he knew it wouldn't keep you around. So if your relationship isn't exactly consensual in the first place, well...

Which makes him sound pretty manipulative, right? You have no idea.

Connor's android abilities give him a terrifying amount of advantages as a yandere. The first thing is that he always analyzes you when you enter the room, even though that often means analyzing you multiple times a day. It never bores him because he always manages to discover something new. Sometimes he'll blurt out random comments and you'll have to do a double take because he makes it easy to forget that he's obsessed with you.

"Your birthday is coming up soon. You might already know I'm aware of that type of information, but you should still bring it up with me. Otherwise I'll have to start believing I can't trust you and I'll have to make my own investigations."

"Your heart rate goes up every time I touch you like this. I didn't realize physical contact was so important to human relationships. Don't worry, I won't stop. I won't let anyone stop me."

"Your serotonin levels are at an all-time low... Clearly, it can't be my fault, since I've done everything I am sure a good boyfriend would do. I'd like you to be honest when you tell me what's wrong this time."

The red flags fly higher as time goes on. He'll stop talking about all these observations if you tell him to, but he'll keep analyzing you anyway.

Connor is enamoured with your DNA, as well. It helps him feel closer to you, which can often be difficult for him since he's not human. So if it belongs to you, and it can fit, it's going in his mouth. He'll do gross shit like keep your used lollipop sticks in his pocket so he can sample them whenever he wants. There's only one emotion he can't feel no matter what you do: shame.

The invasive behavior doesn't stop there. He'll invite himself into your home and go through your things. He'll keep asking questions and trick you into revealing more information about yourself than you should. Knowing everything there possibly is to know about you gives him a stronger feeling of control for a single reason...

Your chance of escape plummets as he learns more about you, because it allows him to predict your behavior. He'll get scary accurate if you let him get close to you. This mostly benefits him in situations where he believes you want to leave him, or you did leave him, so he can figure out what you plan to do/already did and find the best method to get you back. If you already did leave, he'll examine your recent whereabouts like it's a crime scene and use his reconstruction ability. Even if you're insanely careful, he'll probably find a clue that'll lead him to you.

But sometimes he'll do it in normal situations, too, just as a silent guessing game. For instance: '(Y/N) will enter the police station at 8:18AM. I'm waiting for them at the entrance, so they'll greet me, but speed-walk away and avert eye contact. They'll head into the break room at 8:19AM and pretend to look around a bit, so Gavin won't make fun of them when they go for the same snack they always do. Gavin will make fun of them anyway and they'll argue for two minutes. Then--'

He has to stop thinking so he can greet you when you enter the building. Exactly at 8:18AM. He smirks to himself, only to drop into a frown when he hears Gavin's distant obnoxious laughter afterward.

Remember how Connor once analyzed Hank's food and advised him against eating it? He does stuff like that to you all the time. And if you actually take the advice he gives, he'll take that as an opportunity to become more controlling. Oh, but only for the sake of your health, of course...

"You know, you shouldn't sit in that type of position. Bad posture can lead to health issues later on in life." "Then how should I sit?" "...It'll be easier if I show you."

And so he'll help re-position you, using that as an excuse to touch you. He would especially do this if you weren't yet in a relationship, because he knows that as the type of android he is, he doesn't have a good reason to do so. The touch only lasts a brief moment. It's not inappropriate at all, and his grip was quite gentle. But it's weird that he went out of his way to do in the first place and that's all you might need to feel uncomfortable about it.

But a lot of that is based off of the assumption that you're human. If you're an android, he still manages to find invasive things to do against your will. For one thing, he loves probing your memory. It's already difficult to lie to him and get away with it, but that might make it impossible, depending on what you're lying about. He doesn't care that it's an invasion of privacy and will do it if he finds a good excuse to do so.

Connor keeps an eye on your stress level and uses it to his advantage. He prefers to use persuasion when convincing you to do something, (he knows how to negotiate, after all) but he'll ultimately turn to intimidation if necessary. Which means heading straight into interrogation mode.

This won't happen unless you're extremely rebellious, but if it does, he doesn't hold back. He'll treat you like you're a sick criminal, yelling at you, pushing blame and guilt onto you, and using physical force. 28 stab wounds type shit. He would avoid raising your stress level to 100% since he knows it could drive you to do crazy things, but that still doesn't make his actions okay.

Even if you're really sensitive to that sort of treatment-- hell, even if you have some kind of trauma related to it-- he pushes away what little guilt he feels. He promises not to do it again "as long as you don't force me to." Actually, though, it encourages him to do it more. He knows it works against you now.

His abilities don't stop there. He can mimic your voice using his vocal imitation, and all the voices of your loved ones, too. He went out of his way to meet them all, just in case he needs to trick you in the future. He likes being prepared.

There are times when he's alone and he'll say stuff in your voice just so he can hear what it would sound like, such as, "I love you, Connor." Once again, he doesn't feel shame. Even if that seems pathetic.

Let's just say it now. You cannot physically fight back against him. Maybe you'll have a chance if you're an android, but he knows about his advantage very well. He won't hesitate to remind you if you try getting aggressive. But even if you manage to get rid of him once, there's another model waiting to take his place.

On a related note... I hope you never meet RK900. We only saw that guy for a minute, he said absolutely nothing in that minute, but the whole fandom has agreed that he's a menance. I fully agree. RK900 is definitely different from Connor, but they still have just enough similarities for him to get attached to you, too. Get help while you still can.

The video of Bryan Dechart dancing as Connor lives rent free in my mind. I watch it on repeat like an iPad kid watching Friday Night Funkin' YouTube Kids videos. My brain just melts and I can't think of anything else. No, this isn't me simping for Bryan Dechart. This is me wanting Connor dancing to be canon. A girl can dream.

#detroit become human #detroit rk800 #connor rk800 #yandere dbh #yandere dbh x reader #dbh connor x reader #dbh #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #dbh x reader #dbh fanfic #dbh fic #blue writes #finally! let the crossposting begin!

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tieronecrush · 1 year ago

Text

seven minutes in heaven (the bathroom)

frankie morales x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: it's your roommate ben miller's birthday and he's invited the special forces guys over and asked you to invite some of your friends. the night comes down to a throwback game of seven minutes in heaven. you've been into frankie for months, so when your name and frankie's are pulled together, you can't help but wonder what can happen in seven minutes?

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of a break up, alcohol use/drunkeness (benny), grumpy frankie, use of pet names (mariposa, hermosa, cariño), dirty talk in spanish (i hate conjugations so pls let me know if anything is wrong lol), mirror sex, unprotected sex, breathplay? (mouth gets covered), pls let me know if i am missing anything

“You gotta be kiddin’ me, man. Why are we playing this shit? We’re all grown adults,” Frankie huffs to your right in the small circle in yours and Ben Miller’s living room. His arms are crossed over his chest, gray t-shirt pulling taut at his shoulders. Warm brown eyes are rolling up to the ceiling under the brim of his Standard Oil hat that you swear is glued to his head — you’ve never seen him without for as long as you’ve lived with Benny — and it works to hide the luscious dark curls that fight to peek out around it.

“Oh, loosen up, Fish! We’re all here to have fun, so just play the game. Everyone here’s agreed to it, and it’s my fucking birthday so you have to do what I say!” Benny leans forward next to you on the couch, projecting his voice toward Frankie and gesturing vaguely around with his hands while his words start to slur together.

You laugh softly, patting Ben’s shoulder and nodding your head to get him to lean back on the couch again instead of trying to get in his friend’s face. Truth was, the prospect of this game did stir up some nerves in your stomach, even as an adult, but you wouldn’t dare go against Benny’s birthday wishes. So, you’re stuck playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with his Special Forces buddies, his brother, and a good mix of your friends that Benny has…taken a liking to.

It was one of the perks he got excited about when you’d come to him, a bit desperate, needing a place to live when your long term boyfriend of four years broke it off with you and asked you to move out. He agreed to have you in his guest room for the foreseeable future until you could scrounge up enough for rent somewhere on your own, and that first weekend he begged to throw you a “welcome party”, which was his ploy to get a bunch of your friends over for him to chat up.

That was a few months ago now, and it happened to also be the first time you met Frankie — Catfish to the Special Forces guys.

And since then, it’s been months filled with tension between you two, awkward interactions and quick touches to pass him drinks or him scooting behind you in your tiny kitchen when he was over. It was always heated with you two, electricity flowing with a current and waiting for a spark. But Frankie was a gentleman, never assuming or overly forthcoming, and you were, well, rusty. Not dating in four years really throws you for a loop when trying to hook up with someone.

Frankie’s eyes meet yours when your laugh reaches him, a flash of excitement evident in the widening of his pupils. A smile stretches across your face at him, shaking your head.

“Probably don’t want to go against this birthday boy, Frankie. He’s not afraid to guilt you into things, or worse, just bother the shit out of you until you do what he wants. Plus, nobody has to know what does or doesn’t happen behind the door.”

Ben whips his head towards you with an exaggerated shock in his face, Frankie’s chuckle low as everyone else laughs.

“Don’t give him any ideas about not fully immersing in the game. He’s just bein’ a grumpy old bastard.”

Benny turns away from you as Frankie rolls his eyes again, the birthday boy pulling out two names from the bowl in the center. It ends up being one of your friends and Santiago, which earns a cheer knowing his suave reputation. Once the two are back in the bathroom, the younger Miller brother sets a timer on his phone and everyone gets to chatting and drinking again. You and Benny argued back and forth before the party about using the other’s room for the game, finally deciding to use the hall bath for sake of neutrality. And clean sheets.

A handful of rounds have come and gone, people returning with smirks or poker faces, everyone trying to pull out any information from the participants. You have yet to go, and it’s the same case for Frankie. Benny’s been choosing the names for everyone, hiding them close to his chest and throwing them back in the bowl to be selected again.

You watch Ben pick out two new slips, reading your name off of the first one. Echoes of your quickening pulse thud in your ears, heat rooting across the nape of your neck. Ben’s eyes dart to Pope as he looks at the second slip of paper, and your stomach drops with disappointment from the high hopes you didn’t realize you had. Your own eyes fall to your lap as you wait to hear Santiago’s name out loud, molars biting the inside of your cheek to attempt to swallow your small pill of upset.

“And Fish.”

Your vision fills with Ben’s side profile, your stomach now doing somersaults as nerves begin to take over. Your mouth dries, tongue pushing against the roof of your mouth and sucking in your cheeks to try to conjure up any saliva. Frankie seems nearly as surprised, or is it nervous? Contempt? He’s hard to read at the moment; the only clues into his reaction are the split second of widened eyes and rubbing his palms up and down his denim-clad thighs before he stands and looks at you.

The hooting and hollering start when you get up from your spot on the couch, small steps leading Frankie and yourself down the hallway away from the party and into your bathroom. Nothing is said as he closes the door and locks it, his large frame turning back to face you across the small tiled floor while he leans back on the door’s surface.

His eyes lock on you, pinprick shocks following their wake as he takes you in from head to toe. There’s still a neutral expression on his face, hands slipped into his front pockets. Your own gaze fixed on your tray of makeup at the side of vanity, anxious fingers reaching out to fidget with a lip gloss. The silence in the room is deafening, the muffled sounds of the group only filling the dead air so much. After what feels like an eternity, you can’t take it, clearing your throat and speaking up.

“We don’t, um, obviously don’t have to do anything.”

You’re still not looking at Frankie when you hear his gruff voice respond.

“Is that what you want, mariposa? To do nothing?”

He grabs your attention with the nickname, a swirl of butterflies batting their wings wildly in your gut when you take in a new expression on his face. Tender eyes with a flirty smirk. Pushing off of the door, his strides take him only two steps before he’s in front of you, hand pulling his hat up and the other raking through his hair in a nervous twitch. Your lower back presses into the edge of the countertop, mouth blubbering like a fish as you try to formulate a sentence.

“Cause, if I’m honest, I don’t want to do nothing,” Frankie’s hand finds the counter at your side, one arm brushing against your shirt. His other reaches for your cheek, hovering over close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating off of his palm, “I’ve really wanted to kiss you since I met you. Can I please do that, hermosa?”

“Yeah, you can, Frankie,” comes out breathy and pathetic from your mouth, half a whimper as you wait for the moment you’ve thought of since you saw him in your kitchen.

In an instant, Frankie’s lips are on yours in a gentle but confident kiss. His hand has found your cheek finally, laying passively before it grips tighter and tilts your head back to give him more leverage over you. The embrace turns heady, his mouth slanted into yours as the two of you move together quickly to make up for all the lost moments from months prior.

When his tongue melds against yours, a soft moan slips out and is swallowed into his mouth. The noise pushes Frankie toward you, close to the point that his front is pressed entirely against you. You can feel how hard he is, the way his bulge digs in against you sending another moan out of your mouth. His large hands leave their places on your cheek and the counter, grabbing fistfuls of your hips and your ass. Frankie pulls away enough to speak against your swollen lips, short and demanding.

“Up.”

With one effortless lift as you jump, you're seated on the countertop, and Frankie’s kissing you hard again. Your own hands rest one on his shoulder, the other reaching to take his cap off and discard it on the ground, fingers combing through his hair. An arm wraps around your lower back, tugging you across the cool stone surface to the edge. His other hand grips the back of your thigh, pulling your legs further apart to slot himself between them, grinding himself against your clothed center. The feeling of pressure on your clit makes your head fall back from his kiss, a whimper pulling out of your chest as your hips work to catch more of the feeling.

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure we don’t have much time left before someone’s gonna be banging down the door, but I want you so bad right now, hermosa.”

Your head drops forward again, staring into Frankie’s eyes that are very clearly blackened with desire even in the low lighting of the bathroom. Licking your bottom lip, you nod quickly and mutter out.

“Fuck me, Frankie. I don’t care how fast or rough you need to be, just please fuck me.”

A groan comes from him at your words as he grabs you again, dragging you off the counter to stand on your feet again. His hands on your hips turn you around to face the mirror, making eye contact in the reflection.

“Take your shorts and panties off for me, cariño. Gotta be quick.” He winks at you, a light smack to your ass before he pops the button on his jeans and drags the zipper down. You do the same with your denim shorts, dropping the material along with your underwear to your ankles, stepping one out.

Behind you, Frankie has pulled his pants and boxers halfway down his thighs. One of his hands finds your lower back, gently coaxing you to bend forward on the counter. His other set of fingers prod through your folds, a breathy moan coming from him as he feels your wetness.

“This all from me kissing you, hermosa?”

“Nah uh. It’s from just being in the same room as you all night.”

“Mmm, you’ve wanted me that bad, angel? Should’ve said something. We could’ve been having lots of fun these past few months.”

“I was—I was shy.”

Frankie shakes his head as he looks at you in the mirror, a devilish smirk on his face.

“Don’t think you’re shy now, cariño. Eres una chica traviesa (You’re a naughty girl),” his fingers slip into your entrance for a few ticks, a gasp fogging the glass in front of you as he pulls them out, “You ready for me, mariposa? Might be a lot to take.”

He winks with a smug look on his face, messy curls hanging over his forehead and framing his face.

“Francisco, just fuck me already. We’re losing time that you could be inside of me.” Your frustration bubbles over out of impatience. He waits for another beat to tease you, and when you open your mouth to complain again, he drives his cock into you.

His smugness was granted — the way he’s filling you up completely is unlike anyone you’ve had before.

As if he knew your reaction before it happened, his hand covers your mouth to muffle the loud moan that jerks out of you. Frankie wastes no time, his thrusts starting fast and hard from behind.

“This what you wanted, mariposa? Wanted me to fuck your hard and fast? A mi chica le gusta sucio, no? (My girl likes it dirty, right?)”

Your response is stifled by his hand, the only sounds in the room Frankie’s low voice and the slap of his thighs against your ass. Your eyes screw shut at the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of your walls quickly, the head of his length brushing that extra sensitive spot inside of you.

“Nah uh, cariño. Eyes open. Want you to watch me fuck you like the dirty girl you are.” Frankie’s hand squeezes your ass tightly, a yelp coming out of your mouth from behind his hand. You open your eyes and look at him in the mirror, sweat building on your forehead and your exposed collarbone. He makes eye contact with you in the reflection, his hips fucking into you rougher.

“Fuck, don’t you look pretty taking my cock? Es todo lo que soñaste, hermosa? (Is it everything you dreamed of, beautiful?)”

Your tongue pokes out of your mouth, licking the salty skin of his fingers. Frankie groans quietly and shifts the position of his hand, two of his thick fingers pressing in between your lips to fill your mouth.

“Chupa, cariño. Suck.”

Following his demand, your cheeks concave and your tongue swirls around them in your mouth. Frankie’s eyes darken further as he watches in the reflection, thrusts becoming sloppier.

“‘M so close, cariño, don’t think I can last much longer. You gotta be quiet while I take care of you, yeah?”

Without an answer, his fingers slip from your mouth. His other hand finds your lower stomach, pulling you up to stand with your shoulders against his chest, cock filling you up with each drag of his hips. The fingers wet with your saliva are quick to circle your clit, the extra stimulation barreling you towards the edge.

“Oh fuck, Frankie! Yes, yes, yes!” Your whines are as quiet as you can make them, the back of your head pressing hard into his shoulder as his next thrust sends your vision black and muscles taut. Every thought in your brain seeps away, pleasure filling every crevice of you.

Your walls squeeze around his cock, nails digging into his arm around you as he fucks you through your orgasm while chasing his own.

“Fucking hell, mariposa. Pussy’s fucking milking my cock, god. So tight. Eres tan perfecta para mi (You are so perfect for me).”

He thrusts his cock one, two, three more times before he pulls out quickly, replacing the feeling of you with his fist and repeating your name over and over under his breath. The sound of your come around his cock nearly drops you to your knees to take him in your mouth, but the looming pressure of time keeps you standing, compromising by bending over the counter again. Ropes of his warm come paint your ass and your wet cunt, a whine falling from your lips as his own soft, melodic whimpers fill your ears.

It’s quiet in the room except for the gasps of breaths you both take to calm down, eye contact made through the mirror as you both smile widely at each other. Nothing else is spoken as Frankie grabs tissues from the shelf above the toilet, wiping his come from your skin. Before he clean it up entirely, you swipe a fingertip through one streak, bring it to your lips to suck it clean. His mouth hangs open at the sight and you smirk satisfied, winking before you pull up your underwear and fasten your shorts up again.

Both of you are buttoning as a fist pounds on the door, the sound of a phone alarm following it. Benny’s voice booms from the other side, a cackle evident in his tone.

“Time’s up, boring fucks!”

Frankie looks at you with a sweet smile, nodding toward the door, “Ready?”

You exhale a chuckle and nod, taking a look in the mirror and making eye contact with Frankie as he looks at your reflection tenderly. Your hands brush at your hair, tapping the sweaty makeup back into your skin. Frankie shakes his head behind you, tugging you around by your belt loops. He leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Ladies first, mariposa.”

You step ahead of him, swinging the door open after twisting the lock undone and being met with a stumbling Benny on the other side.

He looks between the two of you, suspicion on his face as he tries to read your minds. Both of you have a poker face on, and he groans, shaking his head.

“Took you both long enough. What, were you fixing your clothes?”

“No, Frankie was just watching as I fixed up my makeup and had a catch-up. Nothing exciting for you to gossip about, Benny.”

He groans, marching back to the living room, “They didn’t do anything! Just fucking talked like losers.”

Frankie chuckles behind you, his warm palm rubbing against your lower back as you walk down the hall in front of him. His touch drops from you when you enter the party, both of you returning to your original seats and falling back into the conversation as the game switches to Truth or Dare.

Santiago glances at Frankie sitting next to him, chuckling to himself, “Zipper’s down, Fish.”

IF YOU WANT TO BE ON THE TAGLIST, PLEASE FILL THIS FORM OUT! thank you!

taglist (everything/frankie): @vee-bees-blog @joelsflannel @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @swiftispunk @northernbluess @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @addictedtotlou @cannolighost @atinylittlepain

#frankie #writing #frankie morales fanfic #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic

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almostempty · 1 month ago

Note

Still thinking about your gift fic. Ily. That is all.

i'm delighted that cowboy joel is on your mind! unfortch, i am still plagued with the visions of the underwater tentacle gang bang fic that i joked about in ur asks.. and to nobody's surprise--i can never resist committing to a bit.

so, once again, i am here to share something that nobody asked for.

the joel miller x javier peña x frankie morales x dave york x marcus acacius x f!reader time travel underwater tentacle sex pollen gang bang fic. no further questions pls. warnings: mdni, nonsense crackfic smut, dp/dvp/air-tight with tentacles, tentacle job??, one reference to m/m action, there is no reason for this other than i think it's funny. idk if there are tentacle smut rules or norms but there aren't any here okay? 2.3k words

You pull yourself to your feet, sinking slightly into the deep sand. The time portal spit you all out unceremoniously into a glowing, wet alien ocean.

Joel Miller’s eyes narrow as he takes in the environment. “What the fuck is this?” he mutters like he has had enough surprises for one day and this is the cherry on top of his shit-day cake.

Javier Peña immediately reaches for his gun, spitting out a clipped ‘fuck’ when he finds it isn’t tucked into the back of his jeans.

Dave York scans for threats like a predator until he nearly doubles over, growling low in his throat like an animal flooded with the scream of its prey.

Frankie Morales stays in place where he landed, his dark eyes cold and reserved.

Marcus Acacius appears in full military general glory and immediately shifts into a defensive stance. He stands ready to fight, as if hand to hand combat is going to send him back to his historical fate.

The moment the heat wave hits, your body ignites like a live wire. Something beyond your understanding is already underway.

The water shimmers with gold and orange particles that seep into your skin turning every inch hypersensitive like you’re feeling nerves that have never existed in you before.

And then the ache spears through you—centering at your core. It would knock you on your ass if you weren’t… underwater?

You’re disoriented, blinking rapidly as your body struggles to reconcile the sensations. Why aren’t you drowning? Why does it feel like your skin is burning and freezing all at once? The confusion twists in your gut, but so does the spreading, unbearable urge.

You don’t have the mental capacity to figure out how you’re breathing, why the sea is glowing like an aquarium themed rave, or how all the men you’ve profiled are in front of you. Looking at you like they’re sharks and you’re the blood in the water.

None of it matters because the desire is overwhelming. Unbearable. Insatiable.

A whimper escapes your lips, and five pairs of dark eyes narrow, then flare, locking onto you.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, chest expanding and collapsing.

A deep, painful pull forces your muscles to contract. An overwhelming sensation tears through you like a firestorm—it’s desperate and depraved. Something is deeply, sickeningly wrong.

Joel groans a gravelly, predatory sound that reverberates through the water and into your pores.

“The fuck is this—” he starts, but his words cut off as his gaze drops to his own body. Dark, thick tentacles coil wetly around his thighs, curling and flexing with a life of their own. They tear at his clothes and leave him looking ragged–but it’s not an alien creature–they’re a part of… him?

You can’t look away. You have no explanation for what you’re seeing.

And Joel isn’t the only one.

Javier curses sharply as shining appendages unfurl from his body, twisting with a mesmerizing rhythm.

Frankie stares at his hands like they’re no longer his, golden particles sparkle as they sink into his skin. Delicate tendrils emerge, glittering like threads of starlight, their movements fluid and hypnotic as though testing their new form.

Marcus, furious and unyielding, glares with a dark intensity that only amplifies his commanding presence. His glistening tentacles writhe and slither like he’s a royal of the sea, dangerous and otherworldly.

And then there’s Dave.

Lurking on the edges, his blackened eyes tracking every movement. His face is taut, tension radiating from him as though he’s holding himself back. Thick, shadowy tendrils pulse at his sides, coiling and uncoiling, ticking like a predator biding its time, their edges rippling with an inky sheen.

For a fleeting moment, you wonder what they’re thinking. Are they as deeply affected as you are? Are they pulled into the same inescapable rush? Or are you the only one losing your fucking mind?

The sight of them is enough to make you struggle to think. The tentacles move in sync with their labored breaths. It sends an inhuman need straight to your core.

You can feel it viscerally, almost see it, thrumming in the tentacles that thrash and twist, all reaching toward you.

“It’s in the water,” you manage to choke out dimly, thighs pressing together. “It’s—oh, fuck.”

The first slick tentacle brushes your ankle, eerie and gripping. Just the tip against your skin makes your vision blur and you feel so devastatingly empty and needy.

Your head snaps up to see Joel watching you with a heat that has nothing to do with the warm water. His dark eyes burn into yours and then another tentacle curls around your thigh. The pressure as it constricts around you makes you shudder.

Oh.

“You feel it too,” Javier’s voice, strained and cracked, breaks through the thick fog slowing your thoughts. He’s impossibly close to you, tentacles twitching and writhing like they are propelled by a mind of their own. “You need it. You need us.”

The words crash over you like a tidal wave. Filthy, taunting words. They break you. Your knees buckle, but it’s slow motion in the water.

And then the tentacles catch you. Hold you. Lift you. Cradling you in a living throne, they roll and wriggle beneath you.

“Jesus,” Frankie groans, long and low somewhere behind you, his glossy appendages trembling and flicking their tips as he watches you.

Nearly engulfed in the pool of inky tentacles supporting you, your eyes are glazed and you’d scream at the searing heat of the contact–but you can’t. You need more.

Frankie watches as Joel and Javier strip you with reckless urgency, tearing and shredding the rest of your clothes off. He’s nearly trembling as he watches you spinning around for both of them, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “She’s—fuck, look at her.”

Tentacles.

Everywhere.

Joel is first to claim you, his broad hands working over your curves as his tentacles spread your legs wide, wider than you thought possible without straining your muscles and hips.

His slick, alien limbs are relentless, spiraling around your thighs and teasing at your entrance until you are sobbing with a want so dire you can’t even say it.

“Look at her,” Joel growls, one tentacle nudging the folds of your swollen cunt, slow and unrelenting. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” His tentacle strokes along your seam before dipping into your entrance.

“Oh-shit-I can…I can taste you,” he groans, only touching you with his tentacles and hands. “So fuckin’ worked up for us.”

“Yes–yes,” you cry, head rolling back as he pushes deeper, stretching and slipping into your warm heat.

But it isn’t enough.

Not nearly enough.

More, Joel,” you beg shamelessly, like it’s life or death, “more, please.”

“Greedy little thing,” Javier taunted, sidling up to Joel with laser focus on you. His tentacles coil around your torso, traveling up between the swell of your tits, and slipping lower, wriggling over and under Joel’s limbs to get to your core.

“Can’t get enough, can she?” Javier’s voice is teasing and silky, but his flushed face and darkening eyes betray him. His hands twitch with the same pulse of need that spreads through you, through Joel, and ripples through the water. “You need more?”

“Then quit talking and help,” Dave snaps, his own movement growing more frantic as he crowds you from behind. His hands come to cup your jaw, tilting you to look into his eyes as his slick tentacles trail down your spine, slipping lower to drag through the mess of Joel and Javier’s throbbing tentacles stretching you.

You choke on a gasp as another thick, slippery tentacle teased at your dripping entrance, circling you slowly before thrusting in with a sharp, overwhelming stretch.

“Yes—fuck, yes,” you cried, your head falling back as your walls clenched greedily around him.

“Greedy little thing,” Dave’s dark voice breaks through.

Joel and Javier thrust deeper inside of you, sliding against each other and dragging along every nerve inside of you. It takes the painful ache down a notch, but it’s still not enough.

Dave’s tentacles draw a slick path along the other men’s before drawing back to wickedly tease your ass. “Think you can take more?” His tentacles spread you wider—one curling around you to tap at your clit while another nudges insistently at your ass.

You can’t even answer. You moan, your body trembling as Dave’s slick appendage breaches you, the stretch bordering on too much but perfect.

“Yes,” you raggedly beg, as he works his slick alien limb into with a practiced ease, like he was designed for it.

Joel and Javier thrust into you, deep and relentlessly. The two men brusquely fight for space, but their thick appendages mercilessly blind you with white hot pleasure. It spreads, molten and heavy through your body. Your limbs are jelly, completely supported by the men surrounding you and enveloping you with their thick shadowy limbs.

You sob through it, body alive and burning.

“More,” you gasp. Tears pour prick your eyes at the intensity, but they’re lost to the sea.

The men groaned in unison. Dave’s tentacles curl and drive into your ass with incessant vigor. The fullness of the three men makes your mind empty. Liquid like the planet or dimension you’ve found yourself in. Just motion–friction and pressure. Slick, throbbing, and expanding, they fill you–ferociously seeking more for themselves.

Marcus was there next, his golden armor gone as he towers over you like a god, obsidian tentacles flexing with terrifying beauty.

“Hold her open,” he orders darkly, and Joel and Javier obey, their limbs tangling with Marcus as he presses another slick appendage against you, stretching your body impossibly wide.

The pressure is devastating. Tentacles flexing and undulating—Joel, Javier, Dave, and now Acacius—each movement deliberate and overwhelming.

Your eyes roll back as they keep working into you. “Holy fuck,” you hear your voice, unaware the words are even coming out of you, “keep going.”

You shake as you come, your body convulsing, every nerve sparking like you’ve been struck by lightning.

You were still gasping when Frankie’s slick tentacle slid past your lips, the taste alien and heady as it pulsed against your tongue. He groaned as you sucked instinctively, his hands threading through your hair. “That’s it. Just like that, fuck.”

Frankie, flushed and desperate, pushed in close to you, his tentacles teasing at your clit and nipples in tandem. Your body jerked, nerves sparking, the sensations so overwhelming you couldn’t tell where one touch ended and the next began.

“Can’t stop,” Frankie growls, his voice dark as one tentacle curls around his cock, stroking in rhythm with the ones inside you. “Feels so—fuck.”

“Oh my god—oh my god,” you choke and sob when he slips back out of your mouth, before plunging back into your throat.

The fullness, the heat, the beating rhythm of the tentacles inside you—it’s too much. Everything feels connected, exquisite, heightened to another plane of pleasure.

“Look at her,” Marcus commands, his own slick limbs wrapping around your waist and spreading you open even further. “Made for us.”

“Shut up,” Dave growls, tentacles wrapping around your tits, squeezing and tugging and tangling with Frankies until your chest rumbles with a deep moan. “Focus.”

“I’m focused,” Frankie murmurs. The tentacle he has teasing at your clit suctions to you, pulling and pulsing. Another tentacle works into your inexplicably full cunt, forcing your body to stretch wider.

You swear you can feel it everywhere—your walls fluttering helplessly, your swollen clit twitching at the mercy of relentless tendrils.

“Fuck—fuck, fuck, I’m coming,” you want to scream, but your body is out of your control. Instead, you’re sucking blindly at one of Frankie’s plump tentacles as it glides along your tongue.

Your cunt–miraculously full–clenches around the tentacles as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you.

You lose track of time.

The men don’t stop. They can’t. They come in vicious waves–thick ropes of their come spill from their tentacles, filling you, spilling out of every hole, coating your body, and the water around you.

The compression is devastating. Tentacles beating and swirling inside you—Joel, Javier, Dave, Frankie, and Marcus—each moving with competence and confidence.

You shake as you come again, your body convulsing, every nerve sparking like you’ve been struck by lightning.

But the glowing flakes of golden pollen don’t release you from the cursed urges.

They shift. Working in a rugged battle of dominance and rapture.

Joel and Javier fight over your mouth until you’re dripping with both of their releases. Frankie’s tentacles tease your clit and nipples until the point of oversensitivity before they’re coating you in his next release and slipping off of you.

Marcus and Dave are possessed with brutal passion and savage dominance. They work in tandem, driving into you with power, grunting and muttering at you until you’re coming again. And… again.

Working together, their tentacles tangling, they spread you wide and fill you to the brim.

“You can take more,” Dave murmurs darkly, stroking your trembling thighs.

“Yes,” you begged.

“Good,” Marcus affirms, his limbs stroking over your stomach and breasts, pinching your nipples until you cry out.

You don’t know how long it lasts.

The men come in waves, their releases thick and hot, filling you until it drips from your body and mixes with the glowing water.

Joel growls as he fills you for the last time, his tentacles shuddering before pulling out.

Frankie moans as Javier brings him to another release, their tentacles stroking and tangling together before turning on you once more.

Marcus’ limbs hold you open, his thrusts brutal and steady, while Dave whispers dark, filthy praises into your ear as he claims every inch of you.

When you come again, it isn’t soft and divine—it’s violent and shattering, your body convulsing helplessly as every nerve in you dissolves.

By the time the golden haze begins to fade, you are spent—thoroughly wrecked, body weightless and depleted in their arms.

Joel’s tentacles finally still, his broad chest heaving as he stares down at you, a hint of satisfaction in his dark eyes.

The vortex’s pull at your body, but it doesn’t feel like a rescue.

You catch glimpses of their faces. Joel’s dark gaze lingers, heavy with something you can’t name. Javier smirks, but it’s softer now. Frankie murmurs something you can’t hear. And Marcus and Dave—unrelenting even as the golden light separates you—watch you like you’re theirs, and this isn’t over.

@/saradika-graphics

if u read this, u are a treasure and i love u, pls choose one (1) prize from the chest:

#tentacle smut #joel miller #javier peña #marcus acacius #frankie morales #dave york #crackfic #smut #no i do not have an explanation or an understanding

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legendary-pink-dot · 1 year ago

Text

Bush Pilot

Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x female reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving, and lots of it), fingering, semi-public sex, truck backseat shenanigans, seatbelts as restraints, established relationship, fetish/obsession for Frankie's hair, and a bit of masturbation (m)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: A drive to an isolated beach to watch the sunrise, some time to kill before dawn, soft aftermarket seatbelts, and Frankie's superior night vision.

Notes: No use of "Y/N". The inspiration for this one came from a line in my fic Airport Pickup. This fic took FOREVER to finish as I've had very limited writing time lately. Hope you enjoy it. All my love to my magic sluts/cheerleaders who don't have to hear my whining about this fic anymore yay: @imalrightllama @basicoccult @exquisiteserotonin @youandmeand5bucks @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38 @blueheat1-blog1 @redhotkitchen

You wake up to a bump in the road and an indigo sky. Not midnight dark anymore, but not quite twilight yet either. The dashboard clock reads 4:27 AM and you know it's correct because this is Frankie's truck, and everything about it has been meticulously maintained. Its owner is particular that way.

Frankie notices you stir and twines his hand into yours, resting it against your thigh, his fingers squeezing gently. "Hey, perfect timing. Almost there."

"Sorry, fell asleep. I hate mornings." You crack open the passenger window, breathing in the crisp pre-dawn air. A bracing whiff of ocean salt fills your senses as you start to rouse.

"I know. It'll be worth it, cariño, promise. The sunrises are amazing here."

Another 20 minutes on this quiet road -- nobody else out driving at this hour -- until Frankie slowly rolls the truck to a stop and parks. You get out and stretch your tired limbs.

No streetlights here, no moon, and the stars are mostly washed out at this hour, but you can hear the surf just steps away, lightly lapping at a shore that you can't see. You curse your crappy night vision, knowing that Frankie has the edge in seeing through dim lighting, with all the night flying and navigation he's done over his years in the service.

"We still have some time before the sunrise," Frankie says, giving you a hug and feeling you shiver. You sigh into his hug, and he rests his chin on the top of your head for a minute or two. "Come on, let's wait inside. I've got blankets in the back seat."

You both climb into the back seat of the truck, and he unfolds a crazy-looking 1970s-style afghan.

"Where did you get this thing? Standard military issue?"

"Don't be mean," Frankie laughs, wrapping the blanket around you both and snuggling in. "My abuela made it for me a long time ago."

"Does she know it's your truck sex blanket?"

Frankie shuffles closer, sliding a hand up your chest and around your neck to pull your face close. "I've never used it for that." He kisses a whisper against your mouth. "Yet."

As you make out, slow and sweet, Frankie presses you further into the corner of the seat until you feel something dig into your side. It's the shoulder seatbelt and as you push it out of the way, you're surprised at how soft and silky it feels, like some luxury fabric instead of an industrial strip of webbing, and you stroke it with your hand.

"Aftermarket belts," Frankie says, watching you with a pleased expression. "The stock ones were too scratchy and uncomfortable."

"Too scratchy? That sounds like a made-up problem."

Frankie smirks. "I like my passengers to be comfortable." He slides a hand slowly down your body, his knuckles gently tracing your curves, his palm coming to rest over your center, already heated from the make-out session. "Would you like me to make you more comfortable?"

"Mmmm, yes please," you purr, kissing him more forcefully this time, nipping his lips and searching for his tongue with yours. You find it, tangle with it, suck it into your mouth, so focused on the kiss that you don't even notice he's holding your forearm and has gently wrapped the webbing of the shoulder belt around it twice.

He pauses, breaking the kiss and allowing you a second to check what he's doing. "Is this okay?"

"Very okay," you breathe against his mouth, unsure exactly what he'll do to you once you're restrained but eager to find out. He'd discovered early on in your relationship that restraints were something you liked, and he loved to indulge you. "Keep going."

--click--

Frankie smiles as he slots the latch into the seatbelt buckle and locks it into place.

The webbing is soft against your skin, and a little loose when you give it an experimental tug. "Tighter," you rasp, excitement growing fast. He adjusts the tension with the built-in clip until it's perfect for you.

You snake your free hand into his hair, already desperate to touch what you can and desperate to get your mouth on his again. He allows you to tug on his curls as you kiss, but only for a moment. His hand grabs your free forearm, forcefully this time, and pins it to the back of the seat.

"None of that," he tuts gently, wrapping the other side's shoulder belt around it. "We came here to see the sunrise, remember? Don't have much time."

--click--

"But Frankie..." you whine, testing the pull of the seatbelts and finding no slack. "I wanna feel you."

What was the line between obsession and fetish? It was something you often wondered about. His hair, his medium-brown hair that loosely curled and held shimmering flecks of silver, drove you absolutely mad. Every time you met up the very first thing you did was bury your fingers in it, the tips of the curls spiky on your palms, feeding some sort of physiochemical need you couldn't name and didn't really care to. Not being able to sate that need in this moment made you physically ache.

The seatbelt was wrapped around your forearm with the intention to let you slip out of it easily enough if you had to. But did you want to? Cravings are strong, but the deliciousness of prolonging the ache even stronger, and at this moment you don't know which you want more. The anticipation never felt so good.

Frankie senses your turmoil. He sits back and makes eye contact in the growing light, and runs a hand slowly through his hair. He even plumps the curls at his nape and fluffs one long curl that's fallen over his forehead, smiling innocently. You know he can see your fingers twitching. Bastard.

"Something wrong, cariño?" he smirks, and you can't hold back a whimper as you feel yourself clench around absolutely nothing.

"Francisco, you're a fucking menace."

"I know, I know," he soothes. "And you love it, don't you?" He leans forward and shakes his hair right into your face, but before you can swear at him some more, his curls are gently stroking your collarbone that's naked and exposed by your low-cut sundress. You whimper again, this time a pathetically needy sound, and he takes pity on you and caresses his hair over your bound forearms and hands, the ache in your fingers abating from finally, finally reaching some kind of goal.

"There you go, that's it," croons Frankie, kissing your skin swelling out between the webbing, moving down your arm and up to your shoulder. "Just a taste for you. More later. I want mine now."

In a single movement he hikes up the hem of your sundress with one hand and lifts your hip, and slides the other hand down the back of your underwear to pull them down your legs and off. Gripping a bare ankle in each hand, he spreads your legs as wide as he knows is comfortable for you. You feel split open, exposed and excited, and he's barely touched you yet.

The light is so dim that his eyes are in shadow for you, but you know they're wide and dark as his gaze takes you in, his face so close to your center you can feel his breath on your inner thighs.

"Can you see enough to work down there?"

"Of course," says Frankie, sounding almost insulted as he gently shifts your hips to pull you closer to his mouth. "I'm used to flying before sunrise. You know, I can land almost anywhere, in any terrain, because..."

You groan, knowing what's coming. "No, please... no aviation jokes..."

"...I'm a certified bush pilot." He snickers into your thigh, kissing it hard to try to mask his laughter.

"Bush pilot, really? That better not be a complaint about my wild foliage or something."

One of the things he had made clear early in your relationship, in his quiet and unassuming way, was that your grooming habits and preferences were none of his damn business. A refreshing attitude after years of dating men who had lots of unsolicited and unwanted opinions about your pubic hair and how they wanted you to maintain it. As if it existed just for them. Fuck that. Frankie never tried to change you -- he simply adapted to whatever was. One of the reasons why you adored him.

"Oh no, cariño," Frankie's voice drops deep in that way you know he's genuinely serious. "I fucking love your bush." He lowers his face to your mound and gently tugs a few hairs between his teeth. You hiss at the prickly feeling, sharp but not painful, slipping into a loud cry as he dives his tongue deep into your entrance to eagerly prove his point.

You'd never been with someone who loved pussy eating as much as him. Maybe it mirrored your obsession-sorta-fetish for his hair. Impeccable sexual compatibility, you and Frankie.

It's different each time, and this extra-early morning he explores every fold with his tongue, his lips, his teeth, scratching the surfaces and then delving deeper. He doesn't even need to look up at you to know that your eyes are shut despite the dark and that you're lost in feeling.

Every change in your breathing, the tenor and pitch of your sighs and moans, the little wiggle of your hips when his tongue flicks here instead of there. Those are the cues he looks for and the only ones he needs, and he quickly takes you as high as you can go and stays with you all the way back down.

Frankie is relentless, barely giving you time to recover before latching back onto your clit, nudging you past your overstimulation, somehow knowing just how much extra you can take. He always knows.

You barely catch your breath before he's absolutely devouring you again, lightly capturing your folds between his teeth and exploring each one as if he's kissing your mouth for the first time, moving his head to approach your center from every possible angle from his confined position and adjusting his hold on your thighs to match.

He gently slides a thick finger inside you. The stretch is a lot, it always is with him, and he lets you adjust to it before adding a second finger, and presses them as far up as they'll go, his callused fingertips teasing the edge of your most sensitive spot.

Your hips start to move of their own accord but his free hand holds you down as he keeps his fingers inside you right where they are, demanding you concentrate on feeling the pressure and stretch instead of seeking motion.

From above he almost chews on your clit, which you never considered to be a thing you'd like but you are suddenly now forever feral for, and you wiggle your hips as much as you can, desperate to get him exactly where you need him most, giving only one fleeting thought to anyone else parked at the end of this road who might be hearing your loud moans right now.

With his tongue and his fingers he holds you in that sweet limbo state, your conscious mind wanting it to go on forever but your body craving release. You can't choose which one you want more, until you see the first rays of the sun peek out over the horizon and it distracts your mind just enough for your body to fall over the crest again, louder and more intense this time, gushing and squeezing and fluttering around his fingers until he slowly pulls them out.

You were so blissed out that you never noticed Frankie had been pressing and rubbing his crotch against the floor, the seat, whatever he could find while he was eating you out. The back seat of the truck is quickly filling with light and you watch him unzip his jeans just enough to pull out his cock, hard and leaking.

If you weren't so zoned out, if he just gave you a few minutes to recover, you'd be happy to help him, but he's too impatient and fucks his fist with sloppy motions. It's a hypnotic sight, the pinkish tip peeking out between his thick fingers and then disappearing for a second in a desperate rhythm, and you slide your hands free from the seatbelts just in time to grab his hair and give the curls a hard pull, seconds before he comes in hot spurts across your thighs and swollen cunt, choking out a cry that again made you glad he had brought you to this beach so early in the day.

Thankfully, he didn't get any on the blanket. You shake it out and wrap it around both of you as he snuggles up beside you on the seat.

"Good?"

"Good. Very good."

"Yeah."

Your breaths gradually slow as you watch the fireball in the sky inch higher, your hand mindlessly finding his hair and repeatedly twisting a curl around your finger.

The truck cab finally fills with full daylight, showing you an inviting and isolated strip of beach, and no other vehicles. Frankie was right -- it was worth getting up early for this sunrise. And it was amazing.

"Frankie?"

"Mmmmm?"

"Tell me more about what it takes to be a bush pilot."

#francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #I might be a teensy bit obsessed with his hair #juice collective #pedro pascal hair appreciation

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