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somewherebetweendisorder · 5 months ago

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Gloomy

Jason Todd x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, language

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: smut is so hard to write guys. I tried, but maybe too hard. As always like, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY, REPOST, OR USE MY WORK IN ANY WAY.

The air conditioner in your car has been out for two summers. Normally it's not a big deal. Normally you'd roll the windows down. Normally you'd dress for the season. Normally Jason's hulking frame wouldn't be taking up more than his fair share of the cramped cabin.

But today the Gotham skies have released torrential rains, and the air is thick with uncharacteristic humidity. Jason grumbles from beside you, shifting around in the passenger seat. His fingers twitch against his denim clad knees, tapping out a restless beat. Suddenly he reaches for the AC button, turning it on and off and on and off.

"God, you're sure the damn thing doesn't work?"

Despite the tacky, wet sweat blazing a trail down your back, and your general frustration with the situation a small smile tugs at your lips. "Yes Jason, I'm sure. The whole thing is bad."

He sighs, loud and long. "Why haven't you said anything? I could have gotten it fixed."

And that's just the thing. At any point over the past two years, if you'd so much as mentioned it in passing to Jason, or Dick, or Bruce -hell, even Tim- it would be a non-issue. You know this, know their generosity knows no bounds for family, and neither do their bank accounts, but this is yours. Be it pride, or independence, this was just something you want for yourself. Even if you're not making progress with the situation, but Jason for all his finer qualities, wouldn't agree.

"I love you, Jason."

He sighs again, and fiddles with the volume. The rain comes down impossibly harder, and you slow accordingly, the white lines on the road indistinguishable.

"Just pull over here," he offers, pointing to the parking lot out his window.

The store is closed given the hour, and the parking lot is empty. Flicking on your turn signal you make the turn, pulling into a spot and cutting the engine. Now the only sound is the tinny patter of the storm on the roof of your car, and the distant roll of thunder. Jason sighs again, attempting to stretch out his knee, which cracks in response. An awkward giggle spills past your lips, earning a crooked grin from Jason.

"Some weather, huh?"

His face is pretty and haunted in the dim yellow light of the nearby streetlamp, skin warm and inviting. The little scars scattered across his face almost glow in the dark, splitting his lip, and running jagged through his eyebrow where the little hairs won't regrow.

"Yeah, some weather," you echo softly, gaze mapping his features.

He closes the distance, planting a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth before retreating, but not completely. He lingers large in the narrow space between your seats, body twisted towards you. "What's on your mind, ma?"

"You."

It's an honest answer, neither unusual or surprising. He blinks slowly, quiet, waiting for you to elaborate if you wish. You bypass the talking option, twisting around in your own seat, bringing your hands up to cup his face, your thumb skidding gently across the prominent pink-white scar on his upper lip. He kisses the pad of your thumb, teal eyes raking across your face.

And it doesn't take a lot, hardly anything at all to lean forward and close the gap again, pressing your lips so softly against his. It's teasing, gentle, and not nearly enough. Jason lets you do it once, twice, three times before he's had enough and nips at your bottom lip, teeth sinking into the pillowy flesh. You shouldn't give in so easily, you know that, but the action has you breathing out a soft moan, chasing his kiss with fervor.

You're caught in his web now, planting a knee up on the middle console to follow him as he cranks the seat back as far as he can. He's yanking at the sleeves of your jacket as you tumble on top of him, eager to get it off. Eager to feel more skin, more of you. You slot your knees on either side of his waist, your right knee digging into seat-belt buckle but you hardly notice. Sitting back you pull your arms our of the sleeves of your jacket, chucking it across the backseat as your shirt follows. Large hands settling on your hips he grinds you down against him, eyes darkening as you unhook your bra. His undoes the button on your jeans, tapping your ass so you sit up to help get them off.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful."

He can't seem to decide what to do with his hands. They flex restlessly against the doughy flesh of your hips before flattening against the expanse of your back and tugging you down to him. His lips are on yours again, nearly bruising as you try to form a coherent thought.

"Want this off," you mutter, tugging at the soft cotton of his shirt, fingers wandering beneath them hem to run softly across the slip of skin. His abs tense in response, a groan getting stuck in the back of his throat. He leans up just enough to tear it off before he's leaning back and taking you with his, lips burning a wet path across your jaw, down your neck and between the valley of your breasts. He's impossibly hard beneath you, and you can't resist the urge to tease him a bit more, grinding down on his arousal just as his tongue licks experimentally across the hardened peak of your nipple.

It's the same game every time, where Jason knows just what it takes to turn you into a whimpering, sticky mess, but feigns ignorance. Your fingers anchor into the soft hair at the base of his skull, tugging gently. He groans again, finding his way to your other breast to lavish it in the same sloppy love. You try to be still, you really do, his hands firm against your waist, but the calm facade is impossible to manage when he guides you back and forth over his bulge, the friction fanning the flames building low in your gut.

"Jason please. Please," you gasp out just as his teeth sink into your nipple, just hard enough. "I need you."

His belt jangles in the stifling air of the cabin, and you huff impatiently when his zipper sticks. Finally you're shoving the denim our of the way, and he slipping his boxers down to pull out his throbbing dick. You hover, too eager, too hot, too hungry to wait, and he's guiding you down, the sound of pleasure ripping from your lungs a little too loud, but he hardly minds. He builds a steady pace, the skin on skin filling the car, the smell of sex thick. One of his hands stays anchored in your hair, tipping your head back so he has easy access to the slick column of your throat and breasts, his other hand on your hip.

And you're so close, his swollen tip hitting that spongy spot with every thrust up into you. You reach down to play with your slit, chasing that high, determined to hit it together. Your scrape your nails against his navel earning a throaty whimper from the main beneath you, and fuck, if that isn't the most delicious sound. You clench around your boyfriend as your climax crashes over you, dragging him along, and he lets out a harsh groan as his thrusts grow sloppy.

"Fuck, baby, cum for me."

And that does it. The string that's been stretched tighter and tighter snaps as you gush around his throbbing cock. You collapse against his chest, thoroughly spent.

"Good girl," he chuckles, knuckles brushing against your back as he pushes your hair over your shoulder. The heat that was so unbearable doesn't seem quite as awful now.

As you come back into your body thunder booms overhead, startling you as you jerk in Jason's arms. He huffs a soft laugh, tipping your chin up to kiss you on the bridge of your nose. You reach an arm up and draw a heart into the condensation on the window as it begins to bleed little tracks of moisture down the glass. He draws a dick next to it, just for good measure, and pulls you into a kiss. And it's moments like there when you're really glad to be alive; really glad to be with him.

#jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd fluff #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n

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stories-and-chaos · 9 months ago

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Shrike: Angel Learns a Lesson

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable. Silly one shot inspired by my brain saying ‘what if a Stolas-esque bleep fest was extremely clinical’]

[One shot, 1106 words, no warnings needed]

—————

“Okay toots, you an’ me gotta talk,” Angel Dust found you reading in the hotel parlor. The lanky spider demon had been itching to talk to you one on one since you moved into the hotel. You’d moved into Alastor’s suite, happy to finally have your husband back after his seven year ‘sabbatical.’ That meant you were mostly in the Radio Demon’s company. Angel had learned not to ask him about sex the hard way.

You looked much more approachable. You had the air of a delicate bird. A little shorter than Vaggie, you had the perfect amount of curves for an hourglass figure. The shimmering flapper dress you wore showed that off nicely. Even though your arms and legs were vividly red for ⅔ of their length, they weren’t too alarming. Even your talons looked delicate. The black mask across your eyes was striking but offset by the fluffy silver hair framing your face. Your wings didn’t have a sharpness like a bird of prey and were proportioned more like a songbird.

All in all, you looked sweet, cheerful, and non-threatening.

So on a day that Alastor was out while you remained at the hotel, Angel Dust got the perfect opportunity to get some of the goods about tall, dark, and spooky. “Oh! Angel! What can I help you with?”

“I gotta know sweet cheeks, what do you an’ Al get up to?” You made an inquiring noise as you tilted your head to one side. Even that motion was bird-like. The porn star stared at you, unsure if you were pranking him. But the silence stretched on and he realized you actually didn’t understand. “Wha…how…you…” he didn’t know how to talk about sex with someone who didn’t understand innuendo. “How do you and Smiles have sex?”

That just confused you more. “Angel, ma petite araignée, I thought you worked in the sex industry. Surely you know the mechanics.” You paused. “Though I suppose I wouldn’t put it past that lousy moth to keep you in the dark.”

“I know how banging works! Jeez, I can’t do this sober.” He ordered drinks from a Husk that was trying not to laugh. He drank one, got a refill and brought one back for you as well. “A’right. You and Alastor are both as thick as two short planks about anything sexy, so I wanna know how you guys ever do anything in bed. Besides sleeping,” he hastened to add.

“Ooooooooh, okay! Sure, I don’t mind talking. But you gotta explain all those innuendos we don’t understand, got it cher?”

“You got it toots. Now spill, start with how often you do the deed.”

You sipped your whiskey as you thought back over the last century. “Mm, anywhere from one to four times a year? It varies, but infrequently is a good way to put it.”

“You only have sex once a year?!”

“I didn’t say that. It’s usually just for the night but intercourse occurs more than once when we feel up to it. Multiple times usually,” you clarified with a chuckle.

“Okay, makes sense, ya got me there. So it’s just when you’re both in the mood then?”

“I suppose you could put it that way. It’s an enjoyable activity, just not something we need to do. Or want to do as much as most.”

“A’right, we got the scheduling figured out. I gotta know technique. Positions, toys, he into kinky shit? You into kinky shit?” He leaned on the couch back, thrilled that he got you talking.

“Well [redacted] is our usual position. We’ve tried [beep], [bleep], [what], [why]. Oh and [really?] but that was uncomfortable for Alastor. [redacted] and [redacted] were fun but we were so worn out the next day. I like [beeeeeeeeeeep] to mix things up. I don’t know if they count as kinky but [oh god], [nope], [beepbeep], [thats a thing?], [redacted], [please stop], [srsly], and [wow] are all things we’ve attempted over the years. I like some [bleeping all this] and [this too] personally while he enjoys [hide your eyes], [nope], [double nope]. Oh, I almost forgot [holy shit], we gave that a try before his sabbatical.” Angel and Husk both looked at you in disbelief as your list grew. Then you continued.

“As for toys…[don’t wanna know], [redacted], [dang girl], and [bleepbleepBLEEP] all see some use. I guess [redacted] also counts. We tried [no thanks] but I hated it. We’ve both agreed we never want to try [ew] or [gross]. [How even?] has been fun. Alastor has indulged me with [no more please] a few times. Of course I reciprocate with some [BEEPBLEEP] if he asks. But really it’s mostly [redacted] for us. I’m sure we’re terribly boring compared to what you’ve been up to, ma petite araignée.”

Angel blinked at you in a daze. He held his drink loosely in his hand before downing it in a desperate gulp. Husk was once again pulling his ears down in extreme embarrassment. “I wouldn’t say that toots.”

You brushed his mop of hair from his face. The poor thing looked dazed. “Angel, cher, I think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight. Husk, do you have any water for him?”

“Getting to know the guests my dear?” Alastor manifested from the shadows, making Angel jump and you smile.

“More the other way around darling.”

“So long as everyone is behaving themselves. I wanted to know if you’d like to go out to dinner tonight? I’ve come across a little place that claims to have authentic Cajun cuisine.”

“Mais oui! Although I’m surprised you’re willing to try after what happened to the last restaurant.”

“You cannot dump black pepper into sausage and rice and call it jambalaya. It’s a sin and a disgrace and the place deserved to burn for it.”

“Right you are, Alastor. Am I dressed well enough or shall I go change?” You stood up and twirled for his inspection.

“Hmm, lovely as always my dear.” He held out his arm for you. “Until later chums!”

“We’ll be back! Make sure you get some rest Angel,” you called as Alastor led you out.

Once the two of you were gone, Angel slumped over Husk’s bar. “I didn’t imagine that right? You heard her too, right?”

“Oooh yeah. I kept saying not to ask, but you just had to know.”

“Yeah well I learned my lesson. I’m gonna need another drink after that.”

“Nah, I think Y/N was right about you having enough for now.” Husk pushed a glass of water over to him, garnished with a lemon slice.

“Asshole.” Angel did drink the water though.

A/N: This is absolutely drawn from my being married for 10+ years and still not understanding innuendos. Doesn’t matter how many times we’ve done it, that’s not how I’m wired. I’m going with “you can’t be embarrassed if you don’t care” as to why Shrike is so frank with Angel btw. It’s as embarrassing as picking out her shoes for the day. Also when you’re approaching triple digits in how long you’ve been with a partner, I figure you’ve tried everything under the sun and beyond, purely out of curiosity. My count has roughly 600 instances from 150 evenings over their life- and death-time. Feel free to mad libs her bleeped portions, I honestly only filled in a third of them in my brain, and the canonicity is dubious anyway.

@edgyboi10000 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @deafsignifcantother @whitewolfsoldat @ch3sire-blu3

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #asexual alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #asexual reader #asexual #acespec #ace representation

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wrightfamily · 2 years ago

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more here. happy april 19th

[ID: A screenshots of various discord messages, texts, and tumblr posts edited with Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney sprites over them.

image 1: Trucy Wright: *sending a meme featuring a picture of a young woman dramatically dying in the rain while another person holds her. the text says "she overdose on yaoi cocaine"*. Ema Skye: can i make a joke about your absent father (note: she is referring to Zak Gramarye). Trucy: yea

image 2: Apollo Justice, disgruntled: Just saw an adult man growl at a qr code on the wall (A translucent Phoenix Wright glares behind him, indicating it was him.)

image 3: Drew Misham (called "Dad" in this screenshot): Have you ever thought of creating Nightcore anime images? For example: (the rest of the message cuts off here)

image 4: Trucy Wright: *grinning with her hands behind her back* Guess what?? We have a rabbits nest in our backyard. Apollo Justice: *looking at a sheet of paper* ok. Trucy: *angry with her hands behind her back* Does nothing matter to you?

image 5: Magnifi Gramarye: As chair of the wizard- [PARRIES A SPELL] As chair of the wizard counc- [PARRIES A DIFFERENT SPELL] As chair of the wizard council, I- [PARRIES A DIFFERENT SPELL] As chair of the wizard council I think staffs should be illegal during these meetings. Valant Gramarye: oh i thought this was the staff meeting.

image 6: Trucy Wright (with Phoenix Wright laughing behind her): I used to love ancient pottery until my stepdad bought me my first hammer. Now i smash that shit on sight.

image 7: Ema Skye: Btw if I say things like “by god” or “good lord” in posts please be aware I don’t mean it in a catholic way I mean it in a 1950s scientist reacting in horror after they create an evil creature in the lab set in the distant future year of 2005. Wocky Kitaki: io che nonostante sia atea dica “grazie agli dei” e simili perché si io non credo in niente ma miliardi di persone hanno religioni e dei differenti ed io non voglio far sentire escluso nessuno . Ema: im frankly lucky the above reblog is about how theyre an atheist because there is nothing more terrifying than saying something slightly blasphemous and seeing a paragraph of italian in your replies.

image 8: Disbarred Phoenix Wright: no context november. figure it out. Apollo Justice: *thinking* what is this in reference to. Phoenix: figure it out.

image 9: Ema Skye smiles and says "your boyfriend fits in a test tube. im putting him over the bunsen burner". Klavier and Apollo have distressed expressions behind her.

image 10: Phoenix Wright, looking off into the distance: were you the one that said 5 year olds should get jaw reshaping surgery. Kristoph Gavin, angry: what i never said that. (Kristoph smiles) i said they should get an eyebrow lift.

#ace attorney #trucy wright #ema skye #apollo justice #phoenix wright #klavier gavin #kristoph gavin #wocky kitaki #zak gramarye #valant gramarye #magnifi gramarye #drew misham #long post #aa text post #i hope the ids work!

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xshootingstarrikex · 2 months ago

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Come ci sentiamo, Milanblr?

#ac milan #se fossimo un team normale andrebbe anche bene #ma dopo Parma e Torino non saprei dire 😓

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radioisntdead · 7 months ago

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It's 4 am, I haven't slept and I'm supposed to be sleeping but Alastor shenanigans are plaguing me, headcanon time folks! Throwing the reader in at random times

Alastor is stunned when you shine a flashlight at him, like eyes wide, smile stuck, ears forced straight,

Deer in headlights fr fr

He's NOT happy once he's freed from the flashlight pause, if y'all are romantically involved you are getting bitten, if you are not romantically involved, then you are getting threatened, sucks for you good luck.

Dude makes deer bleats, it's canon

Imagine just giving the dude some form of affection like a slight smooch on the cheek and BLEAT

Also hooves, I imagine dude has to get his shoes custom-made to fit comfortably,

Do y'all think he could tapdance with the hooves? Like click clack, I have no idea how tapdancing works it's late, I'm sleep deprived and delusional.

If you know how tapdancing works feel free to infodump in the comments I love reading infodumps

I have no context but onlyhooves popped in my head and I found that hilarious,there are probably people who have a thing for hooves in that universe in a non cute way. Yucky shame on thee.

Anyways put this man shoeless, hooves out on a fleshly waxed/mopped floor or something and he's becoming Bambi, he is NOT dignified when he's slipping and sliding, do not laugh at him you will get bit and I said it once and I'll say it again this man probably has something, Now I adore Alastor that deer guy is why I'm in this fandom BUT THAT MAN DOES NOT HAVE GOOD HYGIENE,

Why do I like this guy? [It's probably because this is the only fictional character that I unwillingly got a thing for that's ace and I feel safe in that way, only in that way though he would kill me. Or I'd kill him first because I AM NOT GETTING TAKEN OUT BY THAT DRENCH HIM IN HOLY WATER]

Anyways back on topic y'all would 100% have to chase him down with a bucket of water, soap and a sponge.

Like use the flashlight to stun him and throw him into a bathtub, dab shampoo and conditioner in his hair and leave him there to soak, this is a weekly debacle

Like he'll take a bath on his own but that's like once a month maybe twice if lucky

You will have to remind him to brush his teeth and stand in the bathroom and watch him brush his teeth, y'all are going to have to change out toothbrushes often because he destroys them brushes his sharp ol' teeth

also I just realized his teeth GLOW? Brushing isn't going to make it any less yellow but maybe glow more.

Deers apparently do this lil' ol' foot stomp while agitated and I can't remember if Alastor does a lil stompy stomp in the show but I can just imagine dude leaning on his radio staff probably bickering with reader because y'all are trying to get him to brush his teeth and then stompy stomp.

You could probably dress him up festively for Christmas, he won't do it willingly but you could try, put Christmas lights on his lil' antlers make him grow em' out and you can put ornaments on it too

I should be sleeping but I'm doing this instead, I am making great decisions here!

I'm yawning rn and that has lead to me thinking he probably unhinges his mouth like pennywise to yawn, Sometimes I wish I could do that, big yawn.

According to his wiki Alastor is a canonically a foodie and cooks

He has a cookbook that he made himself, it's handwritten and looks like it belongs to a older woman [COUGH COUGH he took care into making it look like a cookbook his Ma had cOUGH COUGH]

I imagine he cooks in bulk [me projecting but that's because when I cook it's usually for my family] and before the hotel he would pack it in advance like "this is my delectable lunch, and this is my partners lunch for tomorrow and this is for-" but after the hotel it's just "Salutations! I made dinner now feast."

I imagine there's a few checks to make sure he didn't put any sinner meat in there, like Sir we did not consent to cannibalism.

He usually makes dishes with sinner meat separately.

Dude sleeps with his eyes wide open, dry ol' eyes, give him some eye drops like sir you had glasses in life, I'm assuming your eyesight got fixed to some degree, TAKE CARE OF IT this is coming from someone with glasses, I want good eyesight SOBBING.

anyways if y'all were married for example in life the first time you go to snoozeville and you wake up you freak out because he's staring at you and he did NOT DO THAT WHEN HE WAS ALIVE.

Dude definitely got freakier in death, like dude was a funky lil' charmer that killed people, I can't emphasize enough that this man killed people, Remember it's alright in fiction but we don't condone it irl.

And now he's a funky cannibalistic dude, still kills people

Imagine keeping a diary or something and one entry is just like

"Dearest diary, Alastor has developed a taste for sinner flesh."

I really don't use Alastor making puns in my fics enough, I need to put that in more I ADORE puns

I've been kicked out of like two gcs because I wouldn't stop making stupid puns at bad times.

Same with the 1920's-1930's slang and just everything like that was my hyperfixation for a good bit [I say good bit like I wasn't a walking talking wikipedia article and like it isn't actively ongoing] [I am SO GLAD I WAS NOT BORN THEN I WOULD NOT SURVIVE FOR MULTIPLE REASONS.]

Dude has chest fur. Also random tuffs of fur around like his elbows or knees.

I also headcanon that he sometimes sleepwalks, so you wake up at 2 am and he's just standing over you, watching.

Assuming you're used to it you just blink before turning around and going back to sleep, add in a "Alastor go back to your side of the bed"

When he's not freaking you out with his sleeping habits he's staying awake for multiple days in a row.

Okay I'm going to sleep now goodnight folks, Let's see if this makes any sense when I wake up.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel alastor

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angellesword · 25 days ago

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BAGGAGE | JJK (16)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings (varies per chapter): best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, mention of past rape, drugs, non-com: drug use, child abuse, torture.

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 3k

← Previous Chapter (15) | Next Chapter (17) →

*****

Jungkook’s life in prison after Jimin’s death changed. Whether it was for the best or worst was up for debate. For a long time, Jungkook seemed to lose his perception of reality—no one could talk to him as he was rotting in his cell while staring into nothingness.

Fukuchi and his underdogs tried to get a rise out of Jungkook, bent on bringing him back to their little chess game. Unfortunately, Jungkook’s expression remained blank. He didn’t even blink when the prisoners poured hot water on him, leaving his skin swelling as it turned a brutal shade of red. No one could trace Jungkook’s pain despite the searing throb through his veins and blisters pricking his sensitive skin.

It didn’t end there, though. They once again stripped Jungkook off his clothing; men violated him, hoping to assert their dominance. Jungkook took it all in, impassively wiping the blood cascading down his thighs.

He was Jeon Jungkook, once the brilliant strategist of the Bighit, now reduced to being a pawn in someone else’s cruel game. But he just didn’t care anymore. Frankly, his behavior was starting to worry Fukuchi.

“We shouldn’t have killed Park Jimin.” Fukuchi voiced. His jaw ticked as he disapprovingly furrowed his brow at Jang Min.

It was the middle of the night. Visiting hours had long passed, but Jang Min bribed the prison guards to let him in. Jang Min rarely visited Fukuchi, as he was in France or Russia most of the time. However, Fukuchi requested his company, as he didn’t know what to do now that streamlining drugs in Incheon came to a halt. Jungkook, a chess piece (the King), was having a tantrum over his dead pal.

What a baby.

“Park Jimin is a knight,” Jang Min replied, dragging the words out of his mouth; it was painfully slow—as if this matter was not of the essence. Jang Min even refused to say more, acting as if Fukuchi were perceptive enough to know what he meant.

True enough, Fukuchi was a scheming bastard, too. He looked deep into Jang Min’s eyes, able to pick up the words behind the slight quirk of his upper lip.

Knight aimed to protect. Jimin could drag the King back to light, and Jang Min couldn’t have someone as genius as Jungkook escape his grip when the kingdom had yet to be stabilized. Besides, Jimin had a loud mouth. Fukuchi and the others were lucky Jimin had reported the drug scheme to the wrong officer. Otherwise, they probably had to act more discreetly, or worse, stop their operation for quite some time.

“Well, I’m running out of ideas to make Jungkook move, so what’s your plan?” Fukuchi rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He knew Jang Min was always one—perhaps two—steps ahead of everyone. He wouldn’t dare kill Jungkook’s friend if he knew Jimin was their only ace.

This was proven correct when Jang Min smirked as he picked up his teacup and slowly sipped from it. Chamomile tea soothed his body. “We still have the queen.”

The Queen—also known as the most powerful chess piece. Thinking about it lit a light bulb inside Fukuchi’s head, the image of Jungkook frantically writing letters flashed in his mind.

“You really believe that person is more important to Jungkook than Park Jimin?”

Jang Min didn’t answer right away, but a thoughtful smirk taint his lips. He sipped his tea once again, and then:

“It’s not a matter of who’s more important.” Jang Min toyed with a Polaroid picture in his hand, causing Fukuchi’s eyes to flicker there. “They both are. But the knight is held in a higher regard,” knights protected the kingdom from being breached. “Because if you think about the Queen—”

Jang Min pressed the photo against the table, slowly pushing it against Fukuchi’s side. “—you think about your equal. You think about partnership.”

Jungkook will destroy himself for Jimin’s sake, but he’d be willing to fix himself to be on par with you.

You had kept yourself grounded—something Jungkook couldn’t do at the moment. Jang Min was going to use this to manipulate Jungkook. This was clear when he showed Fukuchi the Polaroid picture.

“This is Jungkook’s queen?” Fukuchi couldn’t keep his eyes off your photo. “Huh. She’s pretty.”

Jang Min indulged in your beauty, too. He licked his lips. “Indeed, she is.”

The plan was to use you as bait, but Jang Min thought he would lose nothing if he played with Jungkook’s queen, too. And perhaps, along the way, he could gather more information from you that he could use against Jungkook. It was not a poor plan at all.

“Show Jeon Jungkook the photo and you will watch him crawl right back to our chessboard.”

“We’ll see about that.”

After his conversation with Jang Min, Fukuchi did what he was told to. He went back to his cell and saw Jungkook still rotting in the corner. No words left Jungkook’s mouth no matter how many times Fukuchi had provoked him. Jungkook only looked up when Fukuchi threw the Polaroid photo on his face.

“You know this woman, don’t you?”

Jungkook was looking intently at your picture. His heart skipped a beat. Fukuchi tested the waters.

“She’s receiving your letters. That’s what you want, right?”

Jungkook engraved the photo in his mind: you were standing outside an unfamiliar mansion while holding the envelope that looked familiar—it was like the one where he heartily inserted the carefully crafted mail for you.

“She’s living the best of her life, Jungkook-ssi. I suggest you pull your shit together and see her soon.”

Jungkook’s head snapped up to meet Fukuchi’s gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out. Fukuchi did not mind getting no verbal response, for he knew Jang Min’s plan had worked. It was clear by the shine in Jungkook’s eyes.

He was back in the game.

****

Few years later, Jungkook realized he was still in the chess game, even though he'd been out of jail for a while. He looked at you sitting uncomfortably beside him; you couldn’t stop shifting and fidgeting, worry was clouding your head.

You demanded for Jungkook to explain what he meant by Soobin being in danger. A hint of threat tinged your tone when you said Jungkook better not be joking.

Jungkook liked to keep things light, even when everything around him was spiraling into chaos. But this was different; he would never joke about Soobin’s safety. He loved that boy to death, and so he promised you that he would explain everything he knew about Jang Min after you both got Soobin back.

As your drove to pick up your son, tension coiled in your chest. You had no clue what the fuss was all about, but your time with Jang Min had been wonderful, despite the recent strain in your relationship. Trust had been the foundation of your bond, a rarity in your life. You felt comfortable around Jang Min; the man had a way of making you feel seen and understood.

But now? You shook your head, confusion swirling in your mind. You picked up Soobin without a hiccup, and Jang Min acted as he always did—warm. He smiled sweetly as he carefully placed the sleeping Soobin in your arms. The boy’s soft weight calmed your nerves.

Jang Min even kissed the boy’s cheek and said he wouldn’t mind babysitting again.

You felt a moment of relief, but beneath that, your heart ached for Jang Min, and the resentment toward Jungkook simmered just below the surface, intensifying with each passing moment. Jungkook had betrayed you before; Jang Min had not. What basis did Jungkook have for accusing Jang Min of harming Soobin?

But the weight of Jungkook’s words lingered in the back of your mind, heavy and unyielding. Jungkook knew it was going to hurt you, but he couldn’t hold back any longer. He told you everything he knew about Jang Min’s schemes, and with each revelation, you felt a sickening churn in your stomach.

The sensation was sharp, as if you were being physically pricked by a cold, cruel truth. Jang Min had used you to manipulate Jungkook back into a life of drugs. Your heart shattered when you realized that you weren't truly loved, and that was only part of the pain.

The most painful of all was the betrayal.

How could you have been so naïve? How could you have trusted the wrong person again? Were you a fucking imbecile? Were you truly that easy to fool!?

You gasped, the air growing thick around you.

Jungkook called your name and extended his hand, wanting to reach out to you, but his gesture faltered. He retracted his hand, clenching it into a fist instead.

He knew you needed space. The information was too much to bear. People you had trusted deeply had betrayed you.

And you weren’t the only one suffering. Soobin could be in danger, too. Jungkook’s fear for his son gripped him tightly, pushing him to convince you to have Soobin’s overall health checked. You two brought your son to Dr. Yosano’s clinic, your old college friend who had become a prominent toxicologist.

An hour felt like an eternity as you two anxiously waited in the clinic, the ticking clock echoing your growing dread. You couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that something had gone wrong.

“Hey.”

The gentle tap on your shoulder pulled you back to reality. Dr. Yosano stood there, her expression solemn. Startled, you felt Jungkook rub reassuring circles on your back, grounding you at the moment. Jungkook couldn’t hold back anymore. He didn’t want you to think you were alone.

“The results are out.” Yosano’s voice was low, heavy with unspoken emotions. She held the paper results, her hands shaking slightly as she fought to maintain her composure.

“It came out positive,” Yosano whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Soobin’s body was pumped with drugs.”

“No.” You shook your head. A forced chuckle escaped your lips.

It was fascinating, really. Your initial reaction was to deny the truth served on a cold plate, yet your mind had already played scenarios that best justified the doctor’s diagnosis.

Soobin liked sleeping a lot. People called him a good boy—you also thought your son was well-behaved as he never threw a tantrum, and would obediently follow you.

But as it turned out, Soobin’s behavior was just the effect of the dead apple drug. That was the reason why he liked staying with Jang Min, and why he seemed to always sleep every time he was with that Russian monster.

You even got mad when Soobin cried in your office before. You unconsciously screamed at your son for acting difficult. Little did you know, that was the real Soobin. Your son wasn’t given drugs when Jungkook was taking care of him, so he wasn’t all groggy. And Jang Min, that fucker, dared to blame Jungkook for indulging Soobin with his brattiness, when in reality, Jang Min was the one who stripped Soobin of being a happy, healthy child.

Your blood boiled. Your fury burned when Yosano added that Soobin had been pumped with drugs for some time now, causing his lungs to turn weak.

“I’m going to kill him—!!” Hot tears fell down your hand. They were flowing rapidly, an indication of your blinding and scalding rage. You picked up the sharpest medical tool Dr. Yosano had, ready to stab Jang Min to death.

The doctor backed off but didn’t dare stop you. However, Jungkook couldn’t let you charge to a suicide mission.

Jang Min was a dangerous man.

“Wait!” Jungkook seized your wrist, but you struggled as you tightened your hold on Yosano’s scalpel.

“I’m going to kill that son of a fucking bitch!” Unfiltered profanities left your lips, though you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The scalpel cut through your skin because of how hard you were gripping it. It was enough to draw your blood.

You didn’t feel the pain. Your heart only bled for your drugged son. You felt helpless and sick. This was on you. You were the reason why your precious son was suffering.

Fuck.

“Please.” Jungkook was hurting as much as you were. He pulled you into his embrace, hoping to draw even a fraction of your warmth. He felt cold, not that different from a corpse, because really, how could he not be a dead man when his child had been harmed?

“Don’t come near Jang Min. You can’t.”

You let out a strangled noise. You sounded like a trap animal, and in essence, you were caged. Jungkook was holding you tightly, and you couldn’t do anything to slay your enemy, not when your resolve melted as the love of your life grabbed your hand, forcing it hand open.

No matter how hard you struggled, Jungkook struggled even harder until you were forced to let go of the scalpel. The tool fell on the floor, exposing your bare, bleeding hand.

“I’m going to kill him,” you repeated over and over.

But Jungkook shook his head. He pulled your hand closer to his face, gently rubbing his cheek there until the blood stained his cheek.

“Shh,” Jungkook kissed your hand. He stared deep into your eyes, his brown eyes caressing your soul. “Let me do it for you.”

Jungkook licked your hand, freeing it from the metallic smell of blood. “Please. Let me kill him for you. You can’t go. Soobin needs you.”

You sobbed, still feeling tears cascading down your cheeks.

“Please. Do you trust me?”

No. You wanted to say. You betrayed me before. You hurt me. But you shook your head, refusing to give in to your vile thoughts.

Jungkook had changed. Even if he didn’t, you were not Soobin. Jungkook might not be a good best friend or lover, but he was a good father.

“Yes.” So you set aside your personal feelings, opting to trust Jungkook this time.

“Okay,” Jungkook swallowed thickly. He kissed your hand again before cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips.

You stared at each other.

I love you.

I hate you.

I trust you.

I don’t.

Kill him.

I will.

Take care of Soobin.

See you.

Goodbye.

I love you.

Goodbye.

The unspoken words remained at the tip of your tongues until all that was left was your lingering stare on the path where you saw Jungkook retreating.

****

Jungkook drove your car. He didn’t think. He just drove. The blood colored his cheek, not bothering to wipe it off: he was going to war with your burning rage and love.

“Checkmate, huh?” A memory from Jungkook’s past suddenly flickered in his mind while driving. Perhaps it was because right now, he looked exactly like his past self, bloodied and hopeless. The difference was that before, he had just survived the great war.

“Checkmate, indeed,” Jungkook remembered replying to the stranger��a man who was inside his car. His thick Russian accent was evident. Jungkook couldn’t see the upper part of his face as it was covered with ushanka.

“You built an empire in Incheon. What’s stopping you from going into Alexander the Great mode?”

This memory was from the time Jungkook was just released from prison. He wasn’t given transportation money by the prison officers as someone had signed his papers, saying they will give Jungkook a ride back to the community.

Jungkook went out of prison to see who this generous man proposing to be his driver could be. Now that he knew, he was sure not to ride with him.

“Fukuchi said you call us rats,” Jungkook raised his brow. “How can a rat be a king?”

The strange man smiled lazily at Jungkook. He removed his ushanka and handed it to Jungkook.

“Well, if you changed your mind, you know my name.” He started the car’s engine. “I have a feeling we’ll see each other eventually.”

Jungkook clutched the ushanka. Stitched on the inside of the hat was the stranger’s name:

Jang Min // Fyodor Dostoevsky.

It was a grand gesture, as not everyone had the privilege of knowing who the real king was. Dostoevsky was letting Jungkook know he was welcome to join the game any time.

Jang Min wasn’t even pushy about it. The first time Jungkook saw him was also the last. He didn’t pressure Jungkook after his release from prison. After all, Jang Min’s goal was to stabilize the streamline of drugs in Incheon prison. The business was now prospering despite Jungkook’s release. Fukuchi was there to keep it together.

Jungkook was a free man—aside from the surprise visits from Lee Sung. It was a different issue altogether. The drugs were supplied, but debts weren’t paid.

Jungkook worked hard to pay his loans, and he thought he could start over again now that he was getting his life back together.

But he thought wrong. Jang Min didn’t pressure him all this time because he knew, sooner or later, he would see Jungkook again.

His statement back then wasn’t a conjecture. It was a promise, and boy was Jang Min right.

Jungkook hopped off your car and went straight to Jang Min’s house. He didn’t even have to knock. The door opened for him.

“Hello, Jungkook-ssi.” There was a new ushanka on top of Jang Min’s head. He opened the door wider. “Long time no see. I never thought I’d see you again.”

Jungkook stepped inside. He smiled at Jang Min. The dried blood on his cheek made him appear creepy.

“Aw. You wound me,” a pout. “Didn’t you tell me before you had a feeling you would see me, eventually? Guess what? I’m here now.”

Jang Min hummed thoughtfully, liking where their conversation was going. “Why? You tired of the sewage, rat?”

Instead of a direct reply, Jungkook raised his hand and made a gesture akin to a cat raising its paw. And then he said, “Meow.”

With that, soft laughter escaped Jang Min’s lips, clearly entertained by Jungkook’s blatant display of challenge. He took a step closer to Jungkook, hovering over him as if to show where he truly belonged.

“Well then, let’s have the kitty cat neutered first.” Before Jungkook could move, Jang Min had already stabbed him with a syringe, injecting his body with drugs enough to turn his body weak.

“Welcome back home, Jungkook-ssi. I’m sure the cell in Seoul would love to have you around.”

****

A/N: I updated now because I will be crazy busy again next week.

So!!! Let's talk about this chapter. I was rereading the first few chapters of Baggage earlier, and I was like...why does Soobin keep on sleeping? My answer is because I didn't really know how to keep OC's conversations with the adults with Soobin around (you know how parents are. They can't really focus when their babies are around!) I thought it's boring, though, so I thought...why not let the small detail of Soobin sleeping turn into something big? Hence this chapter! Thanks also to that one moot who was curious on how OC handles Soobin when throwing a tantrum--I guess that's when I had the idea of Jang Min drugging our poor baby :((

Anyway, what do we think about this update? comments are highly appreciated! 🥰

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #fic: baggage #ficswithluv #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #bts fic

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