#angry bby mans

[puppetmaster13u]

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation but hear me out-

[cryingpariah]

Absolutely sours my grapes when people say that Nami is money hungry and/or greedy and would sell out the crew for gold and they actually mean it?? Like they genuinely think that could happen?? All I’m hearing is that you can’t read or see like how do you consume One Piece and can you please stop?!

Nami, the same girl who grew up poor as shit and dreamed of having more just like anyone in the situation would?? Whose whole way of life was turned upside down and was quite literally made of revolve around money?? Who had no choice but to put her faith in money, of its power in this world and how it could set everyone she's ever loved free?? Who risked her life over and over and over again to pay off the debt of her mother's love??

“Yeah but even after Arlong Park she's still greedy though.” First of all who said you could talk to me and second of all, yeah NO SHIT. A habit and way of survival she cultivated for ten years doesn’t just go away overnight!! Shocker!! Her greed is never malicious nor does it overtake her heart or morals (like a certain Fishman we all know and hate). Nami has actively given up money and treasure multiple times: her not collecting money from Vivi after the events of Alabasta, her not caring about Usopp losing one of the briefcases during Water 7, her giving treasure to Lola post thriller Bark, she was going to give all their money to the damn slave ring just to Camie back who she met maybe yesterday!!

And even if you wanna maintain the narrative that Nami would sell out her crewmates for money, Oda quite literally creates this very scenario and shows you exactly how Nami reacts to it!! During Skypiea when she was presented with the opportunity to go with Enel to Fairy Vearth and get all the things one could ever want she said there was no point of having nice things if her friends weren’t there to enjoy it with her! Like HELLO?!?! AM I GOING INSANE HERE?!?!

In conclusion, keep shitting on my girl and watch me appear in your bathroom mirror like I’m Bloody Mary.

[griffinappreciator]

one of the things that always has me giggeling and kicking my feet is Griffin - this strange evidently aggressive man with unknown intentions - getting made fun of/straight up owned in the beginning of the book. homie is getting humbled by these silly ass villagers fr

bonus: Griffin being all bitter and edgy and Marvel just continuing to complain about boots

plus im a sucker for the harsh contrast of the storys beginning vs the ending tonally but ill spare you the details

[psychologicalseablob]

Can't people just not be "pretty"?

Like, I'm sorry, but is it really so hard to believe that not every character you know looks like a fucking walking beauty stereotype???

[moonstruckme]

hi, my love! i hope you’re doing okay!

i’d be really interested to see the protectiveness of the marauders and how it plays out in a poly!marauders dynamic. say something happens to r (can be as minor or as severe as you prefer). how would each marauder react and how would their dynamics bounce off each other? would it make the situation better or worse?

I find it funny picturing r attempting to wrangle all three of her boys from throwing hands (especially if it was a mistake or a miscommunication between r and the “offender”) and they’re bouncing off each other and riling themselves up more and she’s just like, ffs I’m so sorry and tries her best to manhandle her three boyfriends away for a stern talking to. Like, thank you guys for protecting me and all that but a) t’was a mistake / miscommunication, and b) i can sort my own shit and will ask if i need back up (Sirius in the back like no need to ask, i’m ready to go bby). Everyone’s like wtf Remus?! because he’s usually the chill one and it’s just a cluserfuck of misplaced angst and fluffy humour.

this might overlap with some other requests you’ve written, so feel free to ignore or tweak as you see fit! no idea if this makes any sense but hope it’s fun to write if you decide to!

Hi lovely! I've done a couple fics with protective marauders before, so I wanted to try something a little different based on your prompt. I had a different vision in my head than how it turned out, but I hope you like it <3

cw: alcohol, sexual assault, violence

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

You’ve been known to be a…somewhat short-fused drunk. It’s not that you’ll get angry with anyone for anything, only that the sort of behavior that you might normally try to ignore, you…don’t. This is usually the behavior of men. 

It’s one of those nights where the club is made up of about forty percent young girls and sixty percent older, eagle-eyed men. You’re glad for your boyfriends, who ward off the other men like a force field around you. You feel lucky to have it and disgusted to need it. 

James’ laughter is loud and bright as you spin him around after he does you. You echo it, pleased at having inspired such a sound. With his large, sturdy build, it’s rare for James to get very drunk, but he’s about where you are now. Which is to say, you’ve been sloppily dancing and giggling with each other for the last hour. 

Remus rolls his eyes fondly when James nearly spins himself out of balance, steadying him with a hand on his back. 

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Sirius shouts. 

James laughs again, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “Classy, babe.” 

“Bugger off.” Sirius shoves him playfully into Remus’ chest. 

You dance with them both for a minute longer before leaning in to shout, “Okay if I go get more drinks?” 

Remus eyes you both for a second, but nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.” 

“No, stay.” You set a hand on his chest. “Don’t let Jamie dance alone. I’ll be right back, yeah?” 

You don’t give him a chance to respond as you head for the bar. It’s crowded, but you’re not about to worm between some middle-aged men to get to the front. You stand up on your toes and wait to catch the bartender’s eye. 

“What’s your name?” Suddenly there’s a warm body pressed up behind yours, hands on your hips. 

Your blood, already warmed by alcohol, turns hot in an instant. You step forward, too quick for the man behind you to follow. Turn to look him in the eyes. 

“Don’t touch me,” you say firmly. 

“Okay.” The man raises his eyebrows at you. He looks nearly old enough to be your father—certainly old enough to be someone’s father—with waxy skin and thinning hair combed over the front of his head. He’s in a suit like he came here from work. “Sorry, relax. I just think you’re beautiful.” 

“I’m here with someone.” Someones, you could say, but you’ve learned it’s easier in some situations to make it sound like you only have one partner, for brevity’s sake. And there’s nothing you desire more than for this interaction to be brief. 

He gives a little laugh. “Don’t take things so seriously, I’m only complimenting you. Do you like to dance?” 

You give him a hard look. “Only with my boyfriend.” 

“You look like you dance.” His eyes skim down your frame, raptorial. “I can tell. You have the body for it.” 

No sooner does his large, meaty hand connect with your ass than you’re grabbing it by the wrist, your free hand balling and aiming for his face. 

His surprised grunt comes in sync with a “Woah!” from behind you. 

You turn to find Remus and James, looking like they’ve just broken through the crowd. James is staring at you with wide eyes. One of the men near you at the bar sets a hand on your shoulder, pulling you away from the creep and forcing you to drop his wrist, but Remus is there in an instant. 

“Oi.” He grabs you, removing the man’s hand and caging you in his arms. “She’s fine.” 

“She hit him!” the man accuses. The guy from before is leaning forward with a hand pressed over his face. 

James is incredulous. “Did you see what he did to her?” 

The other man looks between you like he’s realized he’s missing something, and Remus takes a couple of steps back from the crowd with you in his arms. Meanwhile, your attacker seems to be recovering from his shock. He lowers his hand to reveal a discolored mark on his jaw, gaping at you. 

“You fucking cunt!” 

James gives him a hard shove, and more shouting starts up around the bar, various other patrons either cheering the fight on or trying to break it up. Remus grabs James by his shirt, tugging him along as he herds you towards the exit. “Alright, we’re going, we’re going.” 

Your journey out of the building is hurried and difficult to follow in your addled state, but everything seems to catch up to you when the dark club gives way to glaring fluorescent streetlights. You bend over under a wave of nausea. 

“Hey.” James sounds more sober than he had a few minutes ago. He stoops to look at you, your eyes wet. “You okay?” 

Remus says something to him quietly, passing James the car keys. He unwinds his arm from around you and kisses your head. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says gently. “Go wait in the car, okay?” 

“Okay…” Your voice is hardly a whimper. “Where are you going?” 

But Remus is already gone, waving down the bouncer outside of the club. 

You turn to James. “Where is he going?” 

Tears blink out of your eyes as you ask. The corners of James’ mouth turn down sympathetically. 

“Oh, my girl.” He wraps a big arm around your shoulders, kissing your head as he leads you towards the car. “What’s wrong? Does your hand hurt?” 

You shake your head, though it does a little. Your knuckles and the tops of your fingers feel odd and sore, and there’s a throbbing that goes all the way down to your wrist. That’s not what’s bothering you, though. You’re not sure if you can pick what’s bothering you. The predatory stares you’ve endured all night; the sickening realization of the man’s body pressed up against yours; his easy, blithe laughter; your own white-hot anger, there and gone before you could take account of yourself—it’s all too much. 

“I can’t believe I hit him,” you admit tearfully. 

James lets out a little laugh. “I saw, baby.” He unlocks the car, opening the back door. 

“I didn’t mean to.” 

“I—oh, okay.” James doesn’t stop you when you don’t get in, instead sitting on the floor of the car with your feet on the gravel parking lot. He sits beside you. “It’s okay if you did. He deserved it.” 

You put your head in your hands. “I don’t hit people.” 

He makes a soft sound. A big hand lands between your shoulder blades, rubbing softly. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. It’s…I get that you wouldn’t usually, but I think this counts as a special circumstance. Rem, he saw what was happening, but we couldn’t get to you fast enough. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself, you know?” 

You don’t reply, and he lets you sit in silence for a while, your weeping gradually stopping. When Remus comes back, it’s with Sirius in tow. 

“What the fuck happened?” Sirius asks tipsily. “I was looking for you!” 

“Did Remus not tell you?” James sounds excited to be the one to share the news. 

“Alright, dove?” Remus asks at a more reasonable volume, crouching in front of you. “Does your hand hurt? Can I see?” 

“No, he’s being bloody tight-lipped.” Sirius ruffles Remus’ hair. “Just said you had to go. Oi, you alright, lovely?” 

“She punched a guy in the face,” James says proudly. 

“She what?” Sirius’ mouth pops open. You shrink some under his gaze. “Baby, you what?” 

“I didn’t mean to!” you insist, though it’s hard to stay miserable when two of your boyfriends look so obviously delighted. 

Sirius shakes his head, awestruck. “What did I miss?” 

James fills him in quickly while Remus prods at your hand, eventually commending you on a rather clean hit after he’s certain you didn’t break anything. Sirius can hardly keep his mouth shut while James talks, nor can James keep from using a series of vulgar names for the man who’d touched you, though he checks on you a couple of times to be sure his storytelling isn’t upsetting you. When he’s done, Sirius’ stare has darkened, his arms crossing as he leans against the side of the car. 

“Do we think he could perhaps use a matching bruise on the other side?” he muses, gaze flicking to the entrance of the club. “Maybe one of you could point him out to me.” 

“You’ll get to see him soon,” says Remus. You look at him questioningly, but he only gives you a small smile. Cryptic.

“Really, she’s already handled it rather well herself.” James slides his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your head. “You should have seen it, I had no idea she could punch like that.” 

“Me neither,” you sigh. 

Just then, the door to the club bangs open. Two bouncers come out in their uniform black tees, hauling between them another man. 

“Alright, alright, leave off!” The creep from earlier struggles in their grasp. All three of your boyfriends tense. As he comes through the doorway, his discolored jaw catches the light. 

Sirius whistles. “Shit. That is bloody gorgeous.” 

You feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at your lips, but try to remain contrite. You catch Remus’ eye. 

“It was pretty impressive,” he says, also smiling. 

You chew your lip. “You don’t think it was wrong?” 

“What’s wrong about it?” Sirius asks. “He touched you, you touched him. I’d have done the same if I were there.” 

Remus rolls his eyes. “We know, love.” 

“I’m just saying, I could make it symmetrical…” 

“No,” Remus says sternly. He helps you up, ushering you into the backseat. “It’s time to go home.” 

James buckles in beside you while Remus gets into the driver’s seat. Sirius lingers outside the car. 

“He’s not gotten far yet, are we sure…” 

“Aw, baby, does your hand hurt?” James asks loudly. 

Sirius turns, crawling in to get a look. “Shit, did you bruise something? How’d you make a fist?” 

James reaches across him to shut the door, and Remus drives away.

[blkkizzat]

kali. elaborate on choso's dick😋

pasiiii bby!!! omg yass i would love to expand on bbygyal chosito's ochinchin.

our chositos dick is the perfect size tbh. its not lung penetrating long like gojos or rip your walls thicc like tojis. but clocking in at 7.53 inches long and 5.58 inches in girth (avg girth is 4.8-5.3). so hes still above average but we don't feel like we are dying taking it hfkshfkjsd.

color wise? tip: #db6e79 (you're low key kinda scared how rosy and angry it looks) shaft: f5d8c6 cummies: #fcfbfa

you feel just the tiniest bit of discomfort. i say tiny cause this man is HUGE on foreplay so you will be more than ready and stretched out (i mean it, it dont matter if y'all in the backseat of the car he will BE your seat and want you to ride his face for at least 20 minutes, thats quickie foreplay to him LOL).

his tip is slighty larger though so getting it in or just the tip is a bit of a struggle but its not too bad onces hes inside. there's an upward curve to his dick that deliciously scrapes his tip along your g-spot when he pulls out and slams back in. oh you couldn't squirt before? best believe you a fountain now bitch shdkfdfhbksj.

before you even see his dick you see how hard its thumping in his tattered black jeans. bbygal gets REAL excited at the thought of fucking us and he's not soo overly large where his cock is too heavy to still twitch as much as it does. you will visibly see (and noticeably feel beating against your walls inside) how fiercely his dick twitches in anticipation/excitement of feeling you.

when do you first see his dick, whether he's a virgin or not, you think he's already cummed his pants once you see how the fluids are slowly but steadily dribbling out of his tip. nah, mamas, thats just his pre. you really don't even need lube at all with how wet he gets you and how much pre is coating him. that said, if you thought he leaked a lot of pre out of his pretty little mushroom tip, just wait until that man is cumming inside of you. buckets hoe. BUCKETS. to the point you think there might be something medically wrong with him...

there definitely is something mentally off tho because normally guys that cum as hard as he does (body spasms, pitchy lil whines and throaty moans), would be too sensitive to continue. but he will cry thick tears rolling down his redden cheeks and onto you at the intensity of his sensitivity as he continues to rail into you. which is a good thing too because he definitely came not even one minute in.

yeah our bbygal is a minute man but our lil minute man is a trooper (no actually he just crazy asf for you to the point of masochism) and will stay hard by activating blood manipulation. yeah RIP your coochie, you better start writing the eulogy once this happens.

best to keep our baby in positions facing you so he can every once in a while snap out of his coochie hypnosis by slowing down or speeding up based on your expressions/cries. otherwise with your face stuffed in the pillow and muffled cries, he might go a little overboard in backshots. the jiggling of your ass rippling against his flesh and splashing your fluids like waves will have him transported thinking he is in the middle of a euphoric ocean, losing himself in the motions.

this is why he might not be the biggest or thickest but you will still be just as sore in the morning cause he will fuck you the longest. oh you passed out? don't worry you gave him the somnophilia pass. you don't remember? oh baby, that's cause you were far too fucked out by the time you did. tbf you didn't even remember your own name then.

but don't worry our bbygyal is sweet and is king of aftercare... once you do eventually get that aftercare... in the morning. yeah he also fucked himself unconscious and fell asleep inside you. hugging you tightly to him you're only a tiny bit crushed and overheated. but its okay cause he is so cute the way he is tonguing your nipple and cooing affectionate noises for you like a baby even in his sleep.

just softly pet his hair and try to get a few more minutes of sleep tho... you wouldn't want to wake him just yet.

you're still tired and he will have morning wood you'll have to deal with once he wakes up. ;)

[banananutmuffin28]

HCs On Surviving Squid Game And Dating Kang Sae-Byeok & Ji-Yeong

A/N: I love them too much, your honor. @insane-hag, @eremikas-bby. Warnings: Very briefly and mildly suggestive

⋆You lucky, lucky bastard. Somehow, you managed to get not one, but two hot women after you?

⋆Even when they were supposed to be competing against you, they both always watched your back.

⋆One time, the three of you were squished into one mattress. It wasn’t exactly…comfortable, but hey, you got to have two pretty women pressed up against you, and that was a win in your book.

⋆Sae-Byeok keeps you away from Deok-Su and his gang.

⋆Ji-Yeong threatened Gi-Hun that if he let you get hurt, she’d be taking Sae-Byeok and you out of the team.

⋆The night before Marbles, a group of men in black uniforms had infiltrated Squid Game and knocked out some of the guards.

⋆Then, they took their outfits and pretended to be working for the game.

⋆Squid Game had always been under their radar, but they never had the clear, solid proof to truly prove that it was real. So, when Gi-Hun had ran to them in a fit of fear, their interests were peaked. They had to turn Gi-Hun away, pretending to not believe him so that they could track down where he would go.

⋆And now, they’re trying to be careful and aiming to shoot in such a way that it only looks like they killed the contestants. During the clean up, some of their moles will bring the “dead bodies” to a hospital.

⋆And, that’s how you, Sae-Byeok, and Ji-Yeong managed to all make it out alive.

⋆You had woken up on an unfamiliar bed, and demanded to know where Sae-Byeok and Ji-Yeong were.

⋆The nurse beside you had anticipated this reaction, seeing as the two women you were urging to see had woken up before you and demanded similar requests.

⋆She told you that they were safe, and ordered you to stay and rest.

⋆The first time you saw them both again outside of the games was in that very same hospital.

⋆You bolted toward them, completely tossing the nurse’s words out of the window.

⋆Fuck the gunshot wound on your head, you needed to make sure that they were okay.

⋆Sae-Byeok was holding back tears when you and Ji-Yeong fell into her arms.

⋆Ji-Yeong was openly crying though.

⋆Eventually, Sae-Byeok pressed her face into your neck, and you felt your collarbone grow wet. You tried to move your head, but Sae-Byeok’s gripe on you wouldn’t budge.

⋆Don’t worry though, you kept her secret.

⋆By the time you were released from the hospital (and the police station since you were all forced to give your testimonies), Sae-Byeok took you two to see her brother.

⋆Cheol was elated to see her, and it was adorable to see the normally stoic woman melt into her little brother’s embrace.

⋆But, when Cheol turned his gaze to you and Ji-Yeong (who Sae-Byeok had called her “very special friends”), you suddenly felt like you were under a microscope.

⋆Though he took kindly to Ji-Yeong, he gave you the stink eye.

⋆The kid looked you up and down, scrunched up his cute little face, and then simply walked away.

⋆Never had you felt so utterly roasted by a child. He didn’t even say anything!

⋆In an attempt to make you feel better, Sae-Byeok pats your back and tells you that he’ll warm up to you eventually.

—

⋆Since you’re dating two women who had been through hell and back, you’re extremely protected on both sides. Especially so if you’re a WLW (WLWLW?) throuple.

⋆They don’t want to ever risk losing you.

⋆Both Sae-Byeok AND Ji-Yeong will throw hands if someone gets your order wrong.

⋆Lord have mercy on the worker who does.

⋆We already know Sae-Byeok’s resting bitch face is terrifying, but when she uses it to its full potential?

⋆There’s a 50/50 percent chance the worker will collapse onto the floor.

⋆If Sae-Byeok’s death glare doesn’t do the job, then Ji-Yeong will.

⋆That girl may be short but MAN is she fierce.

⋆She will not stop demanding that they fix your order STAT.

⋆Think of her as an angry, deadly chihuahua (who may or may not sack someone in the face if the situation calls for it).

⋆Oh, and if someone purposefully tries to mess with you? Like, a random ass man stands up trying to intimidate you while also cussing you out?

⋆Don’t be surprised if Sae-Byeok and Ji-Yeong come home late that day.

⋆Shhh, don’t worry about it, they were just throwing away a dead body “taking out the trash.”

⋆Oh hey, look! Ji-Yeong bought fried chicken for dinner! Now hurry up and get some plates and don’t pay attention to the red stains on your girlfriends’ jacket.

⋆When you pressed for more information, Ji-Yeong just gave you a peck on your cheek and brushed you off.

⋆”It’s just ketchup!”

—

⋆When you guys sleep, you’re always sandwiched in the middle.

⋆Your face will be sandwiched in Sae-Byeok’s chest while Ji-Yeong will wrap her arms around your waist.

⋆Usually, Ji-Yeong’s hands will wander, her fingers dancing along the hem of your shirt.

⋆That little minx

⋆Her hands might caress your chest, or move down to rest on your thighs.

⋆When you inevitably blush, Ji-Yeong will simply pull away innocently.

⋆”What’s wrong, baby? I’m just trying to cuddle you.”

⋆(Sometimes Sae-Byeok notices the exchange and both your girlfriends will team up on you.)

⋆She would press one hand to the back of your head, keeping your head sandwiched between her breasts.

⋆The other will sink down to grab your ass.

⋆Might bite you once or twice. Or five.

⋆She’s just marking her territory.

—

⋆Sometimes, Sae-Byeok accidentally wakes you up at night by squeezing you tighter than necessary.

⋆Some part of her is scared that she’ll lose you two somehow, whether that be from her loan sharks or from enemies slinking back to enact vengeance.

⋆Sometimes, her mind will take her back to Squid Game, to when Ji-Yeong chose to sacrifice herself so that Sae-Byeok could live.

⋆Of course, you can’t have your girlfriend be so sad, so you kiss her nose and tell her that you and Ji-Yeong are right here.

⋆Your talking will wake up Ji-Yeong, who will crawl over to Sae-Byeok and flick her head affectionately.

⋆”You idiot, do you think you’ll lose us that easily? We all managed to survive Squid Game and our own personal hells. Don’t worry so much.”

⋆Then, before Sae-Byeok can retort, Ji-Yeong will wink at you and then pounce on Sae-Byeok, peppering her with kisses.

⋆You grin and join the dog pile.

⋆Sae-Byeok will grumble and try to weakly fight back.

⋆Her attempts are only half hearted though, because deep down she secretly loves it.

⋆(She’ll never admit it. But, that’s okay because you and Ji-Yeong already figured it out a long time ago).

⋆Eventually, your movements will die down and all three of you will lie down on top of each other.

⋆Ji-Yeong kisses you both on the lips and then ushers you to go back to sleep.

⋆You oblige, nuzzling into the crook of Sae-Byeok’s neck as you squeeze Ji-Yeong’s hand.

⋆You’re content.

[rafedaddy01]

hi bby plsss write a fic where rafe gets rlly jealous cuz pogue reader n jj r super close

maybe he saw her holding his bicep or smth in her skimpy bikini and hes js like ugh thats my job ykwim

idk man js smth ab jealous rafe is mmmmmm

jj fine too tho icl

“You belong to me”

Rafe feels rage as he sees you laughing hysterically and gripping onto jj’s arm in that tight little baby blue bikini you’re wearing that shows off way more than he’d like.

You and jj were friends since you’ve been in diapers and your a pouge at heart, but you and rafe have been dating for a few years now and you knew he was possessive. He would constantly complain about how close you and jj were but you assured him that you two were just friends, in more ways than one.

He continued to watch from the side as you and jj joked around and he picked you up and ran the both of you into the ocean, sliding you over your shoulder as you laughed and slapped at his back. Jjs hand dangerously close to your ass.

Rafe aggressively drank from his beer as he seethed with rage.

You walked back on the sand soaking wet and giggling as you approached your boyfriend.

“Rafe! Come join us” you flashed him a smile that he couldn’t help but grin at. You were just so innocent and pure in his eyes. You were blind enough to not notice how jj eyed you up and down, from your tanned smooth legs to your flowing luscious hair.

Rafe felt that rage come back as jj walked up behind you shaking his wet hair around like a dog.

“We’re leaving” Rafe said sternly and the smile was wiped off your face as you recognized the tone in his voice. He was jealous and angry.

the two of you walked back to the car in silence, you treading lightly and rafe stomping.

“Rafey?” You whispered as the two of you drive in silence back to your apartment.

“I don’t like him, y/n. You should see the way he looks at you” Rafe grips the steering wheel tighter as he approaches a red light.

“Look at me” he refuses and you reach over and pull his face toward you.

“You’re the only one for me. I choose you, I love you, and I belong to you” you look deep into his eyes, making sure he feels and understands the words your relating to him before kissing his lips hard yet soft.

The two of you get lost in the moment and only split apart when a car honks behind you at the turned green light.

You pull back and lay against your seat as you bit your lip and hold back a smile.

You sorta liked when rafe would get jealous.

He’s always gets so rough and possessive and it drives you crazy

“I still don’t like him” Rafes tone was lighter.

“You don’t have to like all my friends, rafey”

Taglist

@f4ll-for-you @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril @thievin-stealing @rafemotherfuckingcameron @dilvcv @starkeysheart @wearemadeofstardust0 @theoraekenslover

[sanjisboyfie]

one piece smau: dating sanji edition

— modern! au , so fun , slight nsfw bc sanji is funny like that ig LMFAO

— SANJI X MALE READER one of my favorite pairings to ever cross the universe

liked by [name]s.chef, uso_pp, 9k others

lvrboy[name]: oh my god hes so fine someone give me this guys' number

[name]s.chef: BEAUTIFUL BOY MY NUMBER IS XXX-XXX-XXXX PLEASE SAVE MY CONTACT AS PRINCE SANJI I WILL ALWAYS BE AT YOUR BECK AND CALL

-> dni_nami: no fucking way, why did this guy just leak his number TO HIS OWN BOYFRIEND

uso_pp: the day sanji doesn't comment in all caps to his boyfriends posts is the day the apocolypse comes

-> roro.zoro: fr why he always yelling at him....

-> freeluffy: sanji is so aggressive to his own boyfriend, should we help [name]? -> [name]s.chef: YOU MORONS HAVE NEVER BEEN IN LOVE AND IT SHOWS

-> uso_pp: ruhroh he angry

love.pudding: is he single?

-> [name]s.chef: I AM A GAY MAN AND IN LOVE WITH MY FUTURE HUSBAND - I AM NOT INTERESTED IN ANYONE ELSE BUT MY LOVER, I AM A LOYAL MAN TO MY BOYFRIEND. DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME OR HIM IF YOU WISH TO DATE EITHER OF US. WE ARE DEEPLY IN LOVE AND ALWYS WILL BE.

[liked by lvrboy[name]]

liked by freeluffy, dni_nami, boahancock, and 10k others

[name]s.chef: I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND HE MAKES ME SO HAPPY HES THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE HIM

tagged: lvrboy[name]

dni_nami: never seen you smile that wide before

-> roro.zoro: i wish i never saw it, it's terrifying

-> [name]s.chef: i fucking hate you, dont interact with any of my posts you idiot

-> [lvrboyname]: holy shit whenever you guys breathe do you have to insult each other

-> [name]s.chef: I WON'T ANYMORE MY BABY

SUPERCOLA: do you guys remember when sanji said he hated [name] and rejected the idea of being in love with him.

-> lvrboy[name]: LMFAOAOOA

-> {name]s.chef: that wasnt me, that was my evil twin that was plotting on my downfall.

liked by [name]s.chef, roro.zoro, and 10k others

lvrboy[name]: personal bottle boy <3

tagged: [name]s.chef

[name]s.chef: until the bed breaks. as many rounds as you want, any position you want, anything.

-> dni_nami: sanji please be fucking normal challenge

[liked by roro.zoro and 100 others]

dr.law: is this sanitary???

-> lvrboy[name]: deez nuts in your mouth are about to be sanitary

-> [name]s.chef: TELL HIM BABY TELL HIM !!!

-> dr.law: this shit doesnt even make sense ???

liked by [name]s.chef, lvrboy[name], and 15k others

freeluffy: i can't eat when sanji is making out with [name] across from me. i'm never going out with these two again.

tagged: [name]s.chef and lvrboy[name]

uso_pp: LMFAO i thought it was known to never go out with sanji and [name]? sanji just ends up ignoring you and only paying attention to [name]

-> [name]s.chef: and that's the way it should be. who else should i pay attention to when my beautiful, handsome, erethral boyfriend is right in front of me?

robinkills: i have never heard luffy sound so serious before, what did you two do to him?

-> roro.zoro: probably traumatize him

lvrboy[name]: i'm sorry lu, i'll make it up to you sometime

-> freeluffy: pay for my meals on campus for a week straight :D

-> lvrboy[name]: i'll pay for it for two weeks, i'm really sorry luffy </3

-> [name]s.chef: DONT STEAL MY BOYFRIEND FROM ME YOU FUCKING IDIOT I'LL SKEWER YOU ALIVE

roro.zoro: i think i vomitted in my mouth a little bit, happy for you guys ig.

-> lvrboy[name]: thank you...?

liked by [name]s.chef, dr.law, and 10k others

lvrboy[name]: my bby in crop tops >>>

tagged: [name]s.chef

[name]s.chef: I WILL WEAR WHATEVER YOU WANT BABE WHATEVER MAKES YOU HAPPY, I'LL WEAR. I HAVE EYES FOR NO ONE ELSE BUT YOU!! I LOVE YOU!!!

-> lvrboy[name]: i love you so much muah

SUPERCOLA: sanji and [name] stop making out challenge literally fucking impossible.

[liked by dni_nami, uso_pp, and 90 others]

-> skullnsoul: they're so funny

liked by lvrboy[name], roro.zoro, and 14k others

[name]s.chef: my beautiful boy suprised me by preparing me food with his own recipe today, i think i could cry genuine tears. you guys don't understand how happy i am that i found him and am now able to call him mine. i will love [name] until my last breath. i am so, so lucky.

tagged: lvrboy[name]

uso_pp: okay i guess this was a cute post or whatever.

[liked by dni_nami, robinkills, and 100 others]

lvrboy[name]: sanji i'm gonna cry :< i love u sm too

-> [name]s.chef: pls dont cry my love

ttchopper: my favorite couple, you two are so sweet!

roro.zoro: cant even say anything mean, this is very heartwarming

-> lvrboy[name]: sanji won't tell you this but he giggled and kicked his feet when he read this.

lvrboy[name]'s story

my boyfriend's so fucking sexy-

[name]s.chef replied to your story: CAN I KISS YOU PLEASE COME BACK TO BED SO I CAN KISS YOU PLEASE CAN I KISS YOU CAN I PLEASEEE-

[planchettewrites]

"Red Hair" Shanks (One Piece)/AFAB!Reader

DESCRIPTION: Imagine being "Red Hair" Shanks' wife.

CONTENT: Angst (Shanks losing his arm, talk of infidelity), Fluff (Weddings, Falling in Love)

A/N: Shanks my beloved. While I work on an ideally long Sanji fic, I needed something to post. Hence, this Shanks imagine. This can be read as OPLA!Shanks or Anime/Manga!Shanks. My friend Claudia always tells me being Shanks' wife would be a rather depressing endeavor, but to that I say, bring it. Enjoy bbys!

653 words | Safe!

Imagine being Shanks’ wife.

You’re not a pirate; you’re far from it. You worked at Party’s as a barmaid; you just happened to be the lucky lady to catch Shanks’ eye. Red Haired Shanks, a feared pirate, was nothing but a man with his hat in his hand asking to marry you. You had feelings for the pirate for a while, so of course, you accepted his proposal. You still remembered his words: “Would you marry me, darlin’? Make me the happiest man alive?” His words made you melt. Everything about him made you melt.

The wedding was nothing special in the grand scheme of things; it was what would be considered a “courthouse” wedding. It was held at the very bar you met, and you dolled yourself up nice: your nicest dress, your best available makeup, and you did your hair the way you like it. Shanks wore his Sunday best—which frankly wasn’t much, but you were always a sucker for the rugged look. The rest of the Shanks’ crew and all your friends were there too. Your officiant was the town elder, who looked at you and Shanks with a smile. He grabbed your hands, wished you eternal happiness, and told the pirate that he better not let a single tear slip down your cheek. Shanks promised. 

There were two days he couldn’t keep that promise, the first being the day he lost his arm. As he and Luffy came to shore, you noticed the blood draining from the lost limb and screamed. You screamed so loud you were sure they could hear you around the East Blue. As Makino ushered Luffy away, you practically threw yourself at your husband. You were sobbing, grabbing at his shirt, asking what the hell had happened. He shushed and cooed you quietly, telling you what happened. You wanted to punch him, scream at him for his recklessness, but he was protecting a child that he cared for, and you couldn’t fault him for that. As you ushered him to the medic, you continued to cry. You loved your husband more than anything, and nothing would ever change that.

The second time he made you cry was when he left for the Grand Line, telling you that you couldn't come with him. You were enraged, and you showed it with tears. Thoughts raced of him with a hoard of different women, him getting hurt, or getting betrayed, or worse, his death. You couldn't stand any of those things; you needed to be there with him. You rarely got angry at your husband, but today was the day you became livid at him. Instead of screaming out of sheer horror, you screamed in sheer anger. How dare he? How dare he find it acceptable to leave you here forever? Alone. Alone, without the man you promised to spend the rest of your life with. Beck Beckman and the rest of the crew watched this unfold; you were not one to make a scene, but you weren’t going down without a fight. Beckman had approached Shanks, saying he was more than welcome to bring you. 

Shanks shook his head and said: “I couldn’t live with myself if she got hurt.” 

You fell to your knees. You weren’t going to beg. You had to accept this fate, the fate of a wife with a husband out at sea. Until you feel Shanks lift your chin and help you return to your feet. He kissed you with passion and pulled you into the tightest hug he could: “Where would I be without my wife by my side? You can come along, darlin’.”

From that day forward, you were on the sea with the Red Hair Pirates. More importantly, you were on the sea with your husband, the feared pirate Red Haired Shanks. Your souls in the ocean together would be, and that’s all you needed to be happy. 

Please like, reblog, and comment! I love to hear from readers!

[emin-folly]

(@ftl-faster-than-life HI THIS TOOK A HOT MINUTE WEH Also thanks Tumblr for eating my asks again smh) oH BOY, WHERE DO I START Oh Barry, Barry, Barry, my sweet babygirl, how you've been so incredibly villainized by this fandom I'm going to take this opportunity to address and debunk as many misconceptions about Barry's character that I can remember, in the case if someone who doesn't really know Barry all that well is reading this or to hopefully change some people's minds~

* "Barry is boring": Well, yes but actually no. That's the beauty of Barry--he is designed to be your average, unassuming everyday kind of guy. Problem is, a lot of people think that's all there is to him, but that's really only just the surface.

He has flaws. He's prone to making decisions without consulting his family if he thinks it's for the greater good. You need to explicitly tell this man if you wanna be his lover because he absolutely can NOT read romantic cues to save his own life, he's a guilt sponge, he's weird, he LOVES science and comics and is a huge nerd!! He gets jealous!

Guys-Guys?? He's aN ELDRITCH HORROR??? HELLO????? He is CONSTANTLY living in sheer and utter denial and is desperately grasping his extremely thin veneer of being human, and yet, because of this, he actually puts his family in more jeopardy. Do you even realize how fascinating that is

Barry is a character who also deeply craves companionship/people. He struggles with depression and suicidal tendencies ever since being resurrected. He tries so hard to be what everyone else wants him to be and meet their expectations while failing to take care of himself in the process. He's so much more complex than just "Wally's nice father figure who died in Crisis". People also tend to equate "boring" with "being good/kind" which, you know...I very much disagree with but that's just my opinion * "Barry is racist!" LOL This one is just so wildly incorrect. The origin of this misconception comes from an out-of-context panel Justice League of America #173) of Barry being angry about Black Lightning joining the JL. If you read the whole page the panel comes from, you'd see that in actuality Barry is NOT angry about a black man joining the League but rather, he's angry that that seems to be the only reason Oliver wants him and Barry is (rightfully) calling Oliver out on that. There has been no other time where Barry has a problem with people of color

* "Barry is a Republican" I don't even know where this fanon came from. I think this may have originated from Wally's run where Wally was a conservative and he just assumed?? Barry was the same??? Which is SO laughably wrong (Wally bby, stop projecting on your uncle challenge) For the major part of Barry's original run (and honestly, the majority of the Flash runs after that), he remained largely apolitical . People see a white guy from the 60s and automatically assume he's right leaning /shrug * "Barry's a cop!" Yeahhh, not quite actually. He's a CSI, a forensic scientist, not a blue collar badge sporting cop. He's the behind-the-scenes guy, the one who studies the crime scene and tries to piece together the evidence and bring the culprit to justice. There IS a difference. But people don't really care about the technicalities, tho, they just want to hate Barry and him being "basically" a cop is a fast and easy excuse to do so. And DC certainly isn't helping matters with them constantly pushing the cop agenda for him (thanks a lot DC) * "Barry is sexually-repressed": This is a headcanon I seen a fair amount of and--okay, I get it. Barry is shy and reserved and blushes up a mad storm when someone compliments him. I can see how that might lead people to interpret that as him being sexually repressed/being a prude. But like....Buddy. Homie. Amigo.

This man had more canon sex than Hal Jordan. He and Iris were getting it on FREQUENTLY in the Silver Age and that's not me exaggerating. Just look at Flash #197 where it was Barry's birthday and he and Iris made out and stayed in bed practically the whole day together. Maybe you could say they just did that in the morning and they did other things later buuuut I don't believe that for a minute lol. Or! In Flash #195 where Barry was late to a ceremony of a submarine departure because (you guessed it!) he was too busy exploring his wife's mouth. Just because Barry doesn't make sexually-charged remarks or cop a feel from Iris constantly doesn't mean he's opposed to sex. I see it more as him just being way more private and reserved about it, but he IS very much down to fuck as she is (or Hal! Whichever your ship may be~)

While we're kinda on the subject, I'm really not a fan of the whole Barry being "shojo-fied/uwu-fied" thing, if I'm being honest?? Like, yes, if you give him any kind of compliment, he will blush furiously and stutter. But that's different from him being totally ignorant on what sex is/being a weak, delicate little flower who needs a "Big, Strong man" like Hal to save him (also, like...can we stop treating Barry as the "girl" of the ship just because he's skinnier and smaller than Hal pls and thank you). He is an mid-20-30 year old adult man. And a forensic scientist who probably seen a lot of sex-related crimes in his line of work. I'm pretty sure he knows what sex is, guys (in fact, he would be the guy who actually hosts Sex Ed classes bc the misinformation out there is staggering lol)

"Barry is weak/one of the weaker superheroes": Ok, I've never seen anyone say this persay, but it is very evident in how people portray him a lot of the time. They see his smaller frame and the fact that he runs fast to mean he's a glass cannon (Honestly they do this to a lot of the other speedsters as well) which hi! Wrong again! Speedsters are actually INSANELY durable little dudes. He could tank a punch from Darkseid. He can drag MASSIVE SHIPS behind him!! Wally once punched Eobard with the equivalent force of a dwarf star. Yeah. Now I get whump, I personally love it, I do, but I also enjoy seeing Barry being the absolute powerhouse he is. He can vibrate through solid matter, he can manipulate frequencies, and he's incredibly smart with how to use his powers, always thinking up on the spot improv strategies and techniques! Please stop nerfing him, guys, speedsters get too much of that from the writers OTL * "He's conservative because of his buzzcut!" Ok this one actually had like, a whole article?? On it?? And it truly is so wild lmao. When the only thing people can find to hate a character on is his haircut, you know they have no basis for their argument lol * "Barry is abusive!" Nope. Not even close. People love to pull this as a "gotcha" to Barry fans, regarding the panels of "Barry" beating up Wally and verbally abusing him (The Return of Barry Allen). Except....that wasn't Barry, that was Eobard disguised as him. You know...if you read the full run, you would know that lol You literally couldn't find a more least abusive person than Barry lol. Which actually leads me into the next one... * "Barry was an example of toxic masculinity!" AH yes, of course, with how he's so openly kind and compassionate, how he loves kids and animals, how he openly cries and shows emotion, how he's super respectful of people regardless, how he chugs Respect Women juice all day everyday, how he's contributing to fundraisers to help impoverished people and further medical progress, how he's so concerned about the state of the environment and is firmly against consumption of fossil fuels, how he constantly tells his son nephew he's so proud of him and that he's his hero, how he runs home after work bc he's genuinely so excited to see his wife, how he loves her SO much and smothers her with kisses every chance he gets UGH. How does Iris stand him /s And since we're talking about Barry and how the fandom treats him, I can't not talk about the elephant in the room--Flashpoint To start off, lemme preface this real quick:

FLASHPOINT WAS NOT BARRY'S FAULT

He DID NOT intend to trade the lives of his family for his mom He DID NOT run back in time because he was jealous of Wally (uhh lmao what???? Yeah, I can't even begin to explain how wack that is) He DID NOT run back in time because he was "selfish" and "wanted his mommy back" (unfriendly reminder that Nora is a separate character and shouldn't be treated as just an appendage of a male character <333) Some actual context for non-comic readers: Eobard killing his mom is actually an aberration of the true timeline. It was PERFECTLY REASONABLE to assume that it would restore itself to its original version!! Barry had also traveled in time before in the comics without any repercussions or ill effects, so there was NO CONCEIVABLE REASON FOR HIM TO THINK ANYTHING OF THE SCALE OF FLASHPOINT WOULD EVEN HAPPEN If people had read the issues preceding Flashpoint, they'd see Barry did all of that for Nora!! Because he despised the fact that she had to pay with her life because of a villain of his!! That it wasn't right for her to die for his sake!!

"But Eobard said Flashpoint was Barry's fault-!" EOBARD is A BITCH ASS LIAR who purposely twists the truth to hurt Barry as much as he can!! Of COURSE he would say that!! What ACTUALLY happened is that Eobard is the one who somehow made Nora's death such a critical and important fixture in time to the point of just tempering with that can cause a catastrophic domino effect. Flashpoint is EOBARD'S FAULT and HIS ALONE (and Idk, Doctor Manhattan's too ig if you wanna include him)

Barry loves his family and cares so, so, SO EXTREMELY MUCH. He could literally not be any prouder of Wally if he actually tried!! Everything he does is for his family, even sacrificing his own mental health and happiness for them and it makes me SO sad to see everyone cling to this butchered version of him in their minds (though it's not entirely their fault, DC is also definitely to blame)

[chryblossomjjk]

the weekend | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: dilf!jk x babysitter reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | fwb, sm*t, angst

⇢ WC: 13.8k

⇢ WARNINGS: alright boyz strap in bc it's a doozy lmao, protected s*x, multiple org*sms (m & f), or*l s*x (m receiving), face f*ck, f*ngering, rough s*x, face slapping, sp*nking, exh*bitionism, sir k*nk, t*tty f*ck, t*tty sucking (duh), body piercings (n*pples), age gap (reader is 23 and jk is like 30), infid*lity (reader is the other woman), ch*king, overst*mulation, sp*tting, man handling, finger s*cking, d*m jk, brief mentions of past add*ction, implied passing of a bby (mainly subtext w no details given), maybe unrequited love, maybe not (EVIL CACKLE), some dark thoughts discussed (nothing too graphic or detailed), fighting n yelling n crying yikes, all of these characters are v flawed (except for yul duh), cute bby moments!!, oc is v immature n naive n contradicts herself a lot, she maybe has a thing for older guys bc of that, some bl*od (just a scrape on the knee but ik bl*od can be triggering), this relationship is extremely toxic and not meant to be desired!!!, one homage to trixie mattel lmao

⇢ SUMMARY: every weekend, you give jungkook a little taste of something he’s missing monday through friday.

⇢ NOTES: so after months and months of planning this fic (i literally posted the teaser in JANUARY UM??), it's finally here. i think this is my fav thing i've written thus far and i worked v hard on this! would love to know ur thoughts, feedback is always appreciated!! ty @/taegularities for betaing!! (for whatever reason, this fic refuses to show up in tags n it sucks n nothing i do fixes it so i shall leave it be lol)

You can't tell what’s louder—the crunch of dewy, end-of-summer grass pricking the soft skin of your thighs like angry thorns, or the cracking of bones as your body thumps to the ground from your bedroom window. 

“Ah-” the whine is quickly stifled by a sharp hiss as you remember your dad’s sleeping figure is just behind the wall next to you. “Ouch,” you whimper, praying that the crash hasn’t reached his watchful ears. Carefully, you climb to your feet, brushing the dirt off your bare legs. You spot a fresh crimson scrape on your knee.

Fucking great. 

Finally, after days of longing and waiting, the weekend has arrived. Today, in particular, is a fantastic day. You were trying to look sexy, and blood isn't exactly the sexiest accessory. Bringing your wrist up to your nose, you inhale the candy-scented liquid you had doused yourself in before leaving. 

Perfume still in check, thank fuck.

Goosebumps form on your skin as you take long, dutiful strides, cool night mist gliding through the thin material of your long silk shirt. You’ve committed this path to memory—out the window, usually in a more graceful manner, through the neighbor’s yard, and then straight down the sidewalk to the black Mercedes Benz waiting for you at the end of the road. 

If you hadn’t done this a million and one times already, you might’ve missed the vehicle, so dark that it blends into the night seamlessly. You can’t help but wonder if that’s his goal entirely. 

Still, the excitement of it all makes you walk a little faster. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you smile as you slide into his black leather passenger seat, leaning over the center console to give his cheek a gentle peck. Maybe you’ve overstepped a boundary and muddied the lines in the sand of your… relationship, but you can’t help yourself. Seeing Jungkook was always a treat, one you looked forward to every Friday night for the past five months.

“Hi,” he says impassively, eyes darting over your figure. A loose strand of hair dangles in front of his eyes, teasing you. “You’re wearing makeup?”

“Oh, um…” You’re at a loss for words; surprised he noticed such a slight change in your appearance. Although his perceptiveness was something you noted shortly after you began working for him, you can’t help but feel flustered. “Yeah, I… wanted to look nice tonight. Totally busted my ass climbing out the window,” you laugh.

“Did you get hurt?” His straight brows furrow slightly, silver piercing reflecting the moonlight. 

“Just a scratch.” You lift your leg to show him the red mark on your knee. “Didn’t break anything, though, so that’s a plus.”

Wordlessly, Jungkook reaches over, popping open the glove compartment before you and pulling out the first aid kit he keeps there for emergencies. The scent of clean linen wafts over you from his daily cologne. His scent. Only his. You try your best to subdue the possessive smirk forming. “You should be more careful.”

“I’m okay.”

“Be more careful,” he commands, peering up at you with an icy gaze. “Got it?”

Whether it’s the seven-year age gap between the two of you or the tone of his voice, you know better than to argue. “Yes,” you wince as he rubs Neosporin onto the open wound. “Besides, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if my dad wasn’t so… overprotective.”

“Well,” he continues, sticking a pink Baby Shark bandaid to your skin before putting the box back, “as a father, I understand.”

“Yul is two, though,” you laugh, “I’m in my twenties.”

“Being in your early twenties hardly makes you an adult,” he mutters. "Besides, it doesn't matter. The need to protect your children always stays the same.”

“Poor Bunny,” you pout jokingly as you click your seatbelt on. “She’s going to be just like me when she’s older. Sneaking out of a window to see a boy because her daddy is a big grizzly bear.”

The comment has his nose twitching in irritation. “I’m done with this conversation, __.”

You freeze. Have you struck a nerve?

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you peep. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop.” His voice is flat, but your heart thumps. “It’s fine.”

All the excitement you feel suddenly morphs into an uncomfortable ache as you slump into your seat. It’s different than it was last weekend, positioned much closer to the dashboard than you would ever put it. There’s a claustrophobic sting in your chest as you realize someone else has been in this very spot. 

You know they have, and you know who. 

The deafening sound of the bulky silver band on his finger, tapping against the steering wheel as he begins driving to the hotel you frequent, is a sick reminder.

You swear there’s even a musky floral scent lingering in the air. Deeper and more mature than yours. It could be paranoia, or guilt, making you imagine things. Still, you hope your perfume finds its way into every fiber of his leather seats. 

“How was your day?” Jungkook asks, interrupting any rational thought or doubt, luring you back into the vicious cycle. 

“A bit stressful,” you sigh. “I applied for school today.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, pretty sure I messed up on the financial aid paperwork, though. It was super confusing; I didn’t understand any of it.”

“You should’ve brought it over. I could’ve helped you.” 

Jungkook does have a master’s degree in finance. He could’ve been your Rosetta Stone, helping you decipher convoluted questions about taxes and deductions. However, you weren’t sure how he would’ve reacted to you pulling out your laptop post-sex, asking for assistance on something completely unrelated to your normal routine. “That’s not the type of thing we usually do when we’re together,” you shrug, “you know?”

Your response has him shifting in his spot, pierced bottom lip curling inwards like the words made him queasy. He was the one who encouraged you to go back to school in the first place. “I wouldn’t have minded,” Jungkook mumbles before quickly redirecting the dialogue, something he does whenever he’s frustrated or uncomfortable. “So, what’s the special occasion?” 

“Huh?” 

“What’s got you all dolled up?”

Oh, right. That special occasion. The one you’ve been anticipating since you were made aware of its existence. 

“Happy three years sober!” You announce with a cheesy smile, throwing your arms up eagerly. 

“Ah,” he huffs in recognition. His eyes are fixed on the road, but there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face. Success. It takes everything in you not to physically rejoice. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“What do you mean?” You ask with a pout. “How could I forget?”

“I don’t know.” Just like that, the flicker of happiness wisps away like a flame in the wind as his expression turns emotionless and stoic again. “It’s not really a big deal.”

You frown. Must he always be so… cold? 

‘It’s okay to smile; you deserve it,’ is what you want to tell him. It's not your place, though. You opt for: “It’s a huge deal, Jungkook,” instead. Reaching over, you gently tuck the stray strand of hair behind his decorated ear. 

A somber aura hangs around him like a dark, dreary rain cloud, and in moments like this, when it’s so visible, you just… need to touch him.

It’s stupid to think that you’re the special one; that you’ll be the girl to turn the rain into a rainbow and save him from himself, but you can’t refrain from trying. 

“Did you celebrate?”

He shakes his head. “Went to work.” 

You can tell from his outfit—a sleek black blazer resting neatly on top of an even darker button-up and tie. His long hair is slicked back, but gravity, and his ten-hour long shift took their toll, making the strands hang slack, short undercut peaking through. He looks so incredibly sexy. Maybe, you can comfort him in the only way you know how…

“Well, there’s still time.” You point to the clock on his touchscreen stereo: 11:12 p.m. You throw your hair over your shoulder before slowly undoing the top two buttons of your shirt, revealing the skimpy black lingerie set you splurged on just for tonight. Just for him. “We can celebrate…”

“Yeah?” His cheek bubbles, tongue poking at the inside of his mouth, eyebrow jumping at your suggestion. “How so?”

You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. Hastily, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over the center console. It’s reckless, but so is being with a man like Jungkook. When you finally get to have him the way you want, you’re incapable of rationality. 

One night of him isn’t enough. What kind of tease is that? You need at least six more to be satisfied…

“__,” he warns, arching his head away from your sneaky lips.  “Put your seatbelt on. Wait until we get to the hotel.”

“Where’s the fun in that, though?” You pout, cupping his cheek in your hand and batting your eyelashes innocently. Jungkook doesn’t take the bait, giving the desolate road ahead his unwavering attention. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, you can tell you’re getting to him. Below you, his slacks tighten around his thick, tensed thighs. He’s playing right into your hands. Needily, you tongue the little silver hoops dangling from his ear. 

“If I have to pull over, you’re in trouble.”

“Maybe I-”

A hushed ‘fuck’ cuts you off as the car comes to a screeching halt. Jungkook slams on the brakes, coming too close to the slower vehicle in front of you for comfort. Luckily, his dad reflexes kick in. His strong hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from barreling forward. You brace yourself by clutching his shoulders, and when the adrenaline rush fades, you finally look at him. His nostrils are flared, and his jaw is clenched painfully tight. He’s pissed. 

You know you should apologize, or be a little shaken up, but the blinking of the turn signal as he pulls to the side of the dark highway has your mouth watering. This is just what you wanted. 

Jungkook sighs in frustration, tilting his head back against the headrest. The movement is counterintuitive, exposing the inked canvas of his neck that you’re desperate to paint red and purple. 

A hand fists your tangled hair, pulling you off with a harsh yank before you have the chance to sink your teeth in. The silver ring on his finger digs into your scalp like a knife. “Do not fucking mark me.”

The feeling of the frigid metal is agonizing. Not physically—his grip loosens immediately after the initial tug—but emotionally. You know why he doesn’t want you to mark him. Any evidence of you, other than your weekly babysitting duties, would unravel the entire life he’s built for himself. 

Jungkook is an intelligent man, though. You don’t have to tell him that it’s all a façade, and everything’s already been undone. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out frail and shaky. “I just want you.”

And like some cruel joke, his phone rings. 

The contact image would typically make you swoon. It’s a picture of him and his daughter from her first birthday party; her sticky, strawberry ice cream covered hands holding his cheeks as he stares at her with scrunched eyes and a big smile. You think that picture is the only time you’ve ever seen him genuinely happy.

The bold, white font at the top of the screen makes you sick to your stomach. 

‘Wife.’

Jungkook releases your hair and places a finger over his mouth, signaling you to shut up,  before answering. 

“Yes, Seulgi?”

“Your daughter would like to speak to you.” 

Her voice makes you want to curl into yourself. Whenever you talk to Seulgi regarding Yul, you’re able to compartmentalize and detach that part of yourself from this one. The one that’s sleeping with her husband. Hearing her in this compromised setting makes you feel absolutely repulsive. 

After some rustling and tiny sniffles, Yul answers. “Da-” She only manages a syllable before breaking into a cry-induced coughing fit. You cringe, poor Bunny. “Daddy!”

“What’s wrong with my baby?”

You don’t mean to giggle, especially when the little girl you’ve grown to love so much is clearly distressed, but the intimidating, grumpy, tattooed businessman beside you, talking in full-on pout, tickles your brain just right.

“I don’t wanna sleep alone!” Yul screeches in the most anguished, high-pitched tone.

“Bunny…” With the way his hands scrub down his face, you can tell the tears on the other end are physically affecting him. “Take a deep breath, please.”

There’s a shaky inhale, and a sad whine of an exhale as she tries to steady her respirations.

“Thank you, good job,” he affirms. “Yul, daddy is…” Dark pupils flicker over to you, his face scowled to match. He eyes you like you’re an annoying stain on his leather seat. A dirty little secret that’s keeping him from his daughter. The gesture sends a dagger through your chest. Usually, Jungkook tells his wife he’s working overtime, but he can’t bring himself to lie to his only daughter. “Busy.”

“B-B-But.” The wails have simmered down to a blubber. “Scared.”

“You have mommy, though, don’t you?” He counters exasperatedly, cogs turning at maximum speed to conjure up a solution. “And Ruru?”

Yul is a persistent girl. You’ve seen the two-and-a-half-year-old deadpan Jungkook with a ‘you can have them, then,’ when he tried to convince her that vegetables were delicious and totally not an abomination to tastebuds. “Jeon Ruru is scared, too.”

After a few months of dedication and trust building, Yul finally initiated you into her inner circle of squishmallows, all of which shared the surname, Jeon, followed by whatever random title her baby brain bestowed them. Jeon Ruru, a glass of strawberry milk, was her favorite. You coo in remembrance. 

“What about Ado?” Jungkook suggests, exhausting all his options.

“Ado?” She peeps curiously, and you can almost see her doe eyes scanning the room for her runner-up, an avocado squishmallow you gifted her. “Ado’s sleepin’.”

“Can you go get him?”

There’s a long pause of contemplation before the pitter-patter of tiny feet on wood fills the speakers. “Jeon Ado!” She calls out, voice becoming distant as she runs to her bedroom, “daddy wantsa’ talk to you!” You make out a quiet ‘I’ll tuck you in’ when Seulgi helps her to bed. “Okay,” Yul huffs, breathless from her scurry down the long corridor, “he’s here.”

“Jeon Ado.” You rarely see this side of him, and it takes all of your strength to suppress the smile that’s creeping up. “Can you keep Yul safe while I’m away?” He even leans forward a bit, turning his ear towards the speaker as if he’s actually waiting for the stuffed avocado to answer, subconsciously playing along with his daughter despite being miles apart. The scene puts your overwhelmingly sweet perfume to shame. “Uh, Yul, he said yes. So can you sleep in your big girl bed tonight?”

Reluctantly, Yul grumbles in agreement.

“Alright baby, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

Again, she answers with a little grunt and a yawn.

“I love you.”

“Love youuu!” She extends the vowel for emphasis.

“I love you more.”

There’s a beat of silence before the sleepy girl simply responds ‘yep,’ not even attempting to argue. He glances at you, this time with a wholesome smile, eyes warm with burning stars. It’s moments like this that keep you hooked, you think. Like always, the feeling is short-lived. When Seulgi mumbles a sweet goodnight to her daughter, their daughter, you’re reminded that you shouldn’t even be observing this domestic interaction. 

“You know,” the man begins, turning his attention to his wife, “if you had given her a warm bottle, she would’ve gone down without a hitch.” 

“Jungkook, she’s too old for a bottle.” And just like that, the fire between them ignites. You’ve never actually witnessed the pair fighting, only felt the uncomfortable heat between them in passing. “And she’s too old to be co-sleeping. She never had an issue sleeping alone beforehand.”

“Alright,” he asserts, “if Yul’s okay, then we’re done here.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?” Despite his warning, she continues. “Getting her used to sleeping with you and then not being here?”

There were many things about having a daughter that Jungkook wasn’t prepared for.

It’s not that he didn’t do his research, and Yul certainly wasn’t an accident. He had wanted her more than anything. Especially after the… 

Incident.

A baby-sized hole was left in Jungkook’s chest. Every day, it grew bigger and bigger until, eventually, that bitter emptiness would’ve swallowed him alive. 

Jungkook needed Yul. 

Still, there were certain things that parenting books and videos hadn’t warned him about, like the worry in his stomach whenever his daughter refuses her lunch, or the ache in his heart when he drops her off at daycare and she watches him leave through the window with a sad wave and tears rolling down her cheeks as if he’s just abandoned her forever. As if he or his wife aren’t going to pick her up in a mere four hours like they do every Tuesday and Thursday. His readings haven’t prepared him for the even stronger ache that consumes his entire body whenever he leaves for work too early and comes home too late, with barely any time to spend with his favorite person in the world.  

Before Yul was even born, Jungkook and Seulgi had decided that co-sleeping was out of the question. Their room was for them, and he stood firm on that principle for a while. However, as time passed, their room became Seulgi’s, and the empty bedroom downstairs became his. 

Jungkook couldn’t stand that room. 

One night, after a particularly grueling shift, Jungkook trudges up the stairs for a late shower. Without finance talk or Yul’s babbles, he’s left to his own thoughts. Usually, under the scalding water, he wondered how his life turned out this way, or more so, why? This time, Jungkook wonders if there is even a reason to keep going at all.

He catches his reflection while brushing his teeth. His eyes are dark, cold, distant. Those same eyes belong to his daughter, but all he sees when looking into hers is love, innocence, and everything good in life. 

Maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for him. 

Taking a detour to Yul’s room, Jungkook does his best to quietly tip-toe around squishmallows and discarded markers. Underneath the pink blanket is a little ball of fluffy black hair. She’s got her thumb in her mouth—a bad habit he and Seulgi had been trying to nip in the bud—with her chubby cheeks squished against her pillow. There were few things he hated more than waking her up, especially when she was sleeping so peacefully, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t stop himself. 

Tiny, confused cries fill the room as Jungkook scoops her up. 

“Shh,” he hushes, smoothing his palm over her onesie-clad back. “It’s just me.”

“Da- ddy?” Immediately, she relaxes at the familiar sound of his voice, words slurred as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes with a little fist before peering up at him with big marble eyes. 

“How was daycare, Bunny?” 

“Scared,” she whimpers, slumping into his chest for comfort. “Scaredy cat.”

“Scaredy cat?” Jungkook repeats, trying to make sense of the phrase. “Who’s a scaredy cat?”

“Jeon Yul.” 

Typically, Jungkook finds it adorable when Yul refers to herself in the third person. The way she says it this time makes him frown. “Jeon Yul is not a scaredy cat. Jeon Yul is a baby, that’s all.” Realizing that she’d probably heard the unfavorable title at daycare, his chest tightens. With a heavy sigh, he rests his chin on top of her round head, swaying back and forth. Her hair smells like green apples from her baby soap. “Why were you scared, sweetheart?”

“No color…” 

On his lunch break, Seulgi informed him that she was picking Yul up early. In an attempt to encourage her to engage with other children, the teacher took away Yul’s crayons, sending her into a full-blown tantrum. Jungkook knew his daughter well, a spitting image of him in every capacity. The crayons weren’t the problem; it was that crippling shyness that made her afraid of socializing with nearly anyone other than you and her parents.

Her back ripples with tiny hiccups as she recounts the events. Jungkook decides it’s best to change the subject, not wanting to upset his two-year-old anymore—especially this late at night. 

“Guess what?”

Yul grunts an inquisitive noise.

“Daddy got you Baby Shark coloring books.”

Her wispy bedhead bounces as she glances side to side, inspecting her room for any sign of new Pinkfong merchandise. Jungkook was genuinely amazed at her ability to keep track of it all, considering how much he and his wife loved to spoil her rotten. However, the word ‘rotten’ doesn’t even come close to describing his baby. “Where?”

“In my car,” he laughs, slicking her choppy bangs out of her eyes. “We’ll color tomorrow., okay?”

“I like Baby Shark,” Yul says, completely ignoring his question. The teeniest, tiniest, most precious yawn slips out, two little front teeth on full display before her lips smack together sleepily. Truly living up to her nickname.

“I know you do.” He’s still rocking her gently, buying some time before she falls back into sleep’s arms and out of his. “I missed you so much today.” 

“Why?”

As of late, ‘why’ seems to be Yul’s favorite word. 

Why is the sky blue?

Why do vegetables taste yucky?

Why is daddy’s nose so big?

He’d be lying if he said that last, brutally honest question hadn’t caught him off guard when she first uttered it on his hip at the grocery store. 

“Because I love you.” It’s the most effortless sentence he’s ever spoken. The most natural feeling he’s ever felt.

“Why?” 

“Because,” his eye roll is disconnected from his growing smile, “you’re so cute!” If they weren’t enclosed by the four pink walls of Yul’s bedroom, Jungkook would be embarrassed at the squeakiness of his usual monotone voice. Leaning down, Jungkook blows a raspberry against her doughy cheek, a tried and true method of making her laugh. “Do you want to sleep in my room?”

It’s against his better judgment and the ground rules he had agreed to, but he just… really needs to spend time with her tonight. The small nod against his chest seals the deal. Before he gets to the door, Yul stops him with an exaggerated gasp.

“Daddy, Ruru!”

“Ruru?” 

She grunts, frustrated at her father’s confusion, frantically pointing at her partner in crime, the strawberry milk squishmallow lying neatly underneath her comforter. Just how she left it.

“Yul,” Jungkook starts, taking a few steps backward and bending at the waist, allowing her to take the oversized stuffie into her arms. “Isn’t this Mimi?” As far as Jungkook knows, the pink milk carton with a face had always been Mimi; a name Yul had dubbed it since he brought it home a couple months back.

“Ruru,” she states affirmatively. 

And ever since then, Yul’s been a co-sleeper. 

Jungkook prided himself on knowing his daughter like the back of his tattooed hand. Whether it’s a sixth sense, some innate father’s instinct that the parenting videos mentioned, or his own attention to detail, he could read her like a book. However, sharing a bed with the tiny human taught him something he had been blissfully unaware of:

Yul sleeps wild. 

More often than not, Jungkook was awoken by a tiny foot kicking his back, or by his own reflexes as he was somehow pushed to the very corner of the bed by his twenty-pound baby. There were even a few times when a harsh tug on his hair acted as an alarm clock. When he turned around to confront the culprit, however, she was fast asleep, arm slung over one of the many squishmallows that had worked their way into his room. 

Having her with him was worth all bald spots and bruises, though. It’s bad, he knows it, and night by night, Yul becomes more attached. Getting her acclimated to daycare had been hell, to say the least. He knows co-sleeping has possibly made her more reluctant to socialize than she already was. 

Still, Jungkook can’t help but wonder who’s more dependent on the other. When he thinks about it, undoubtedly, the answer is him. Because as long as he wakes up to a little foot in his back, a fist in his hair, and the smell of green apple baby soap, he has a reason to keep going. 

“Don’t you think she deserves better?”

Her sharp words swipe through the air like a blade. Even you feel the cut, cautiously eyeing Jungkook. You can’t read his expression, but something about it makes you rub a comforting hand over his shoulder. He doesn’t react to your touch at all.

There’s a sullen pause before he finally answers. “I think Yul deserves everything.”

“Right… Goodnight, Jungkook.” She hangs up before he has the chance to respond. Seulgi always struck you as a level-headed person, albeit a bit aloof, but never unfair or cruel. You assume she’s just being spiteful, because anyone who knows Jungkook would never question his dedication to his daughter. That ugly, bitter, jealous side of you thinks maybe she just doesn’t know him the way you do. 

“Are you okay?” You whisper as if approaching a wounded animal, ready to attack. 

“On Fridays,” he starts, eyes shamefully dropping to his fidgeting hands. “Yul spends the day with my parents.”

His incessant need to defend his parenting makes your heart ache. “Hey, I-”

“She’s usually asleep by the time I leave work.” 

“Kook,” you interrupt his rambling. “You don’t have to explain; I understand... I think you’re an amazing father.”

Lifting his head, Jungkook looks you directly in the eyes. His are glassy and gentle now, but the fingers that hook into your lace bra, right between the cups, are rough and abrasive. “C’mere,” he gruffs, pulling you over the center console until you’re uncomfortably sandwiched between his solid chest and the steering wheel. There’s no effort to make room for you; he doesn’t slide his seat back. He doesn’t compromise any of his space for you. You accept it, steadying yourself on his shoulders with a grunt. 

Sometimes, you question what your presence in his life truly is. Are you an escape or a punching bag? Are you merely something he can sink his nails and teeth into when angry? Something he can break without consequence? The sound of thread ripping and buttons popping fills the car as he slides the silk off your shoulders, letting the delicate material fall to the floor without a care in the world.

“You wore this for me?” A fingertip lightly traces the petite swell of your breasts, barely bulging over the frilly black cups of your push-up. The sensation sets your skin ablaze.

“Mhm,” you confirm, “I wanted today to be special.”

“You care about me?” Moonlight cuts through the dewy window, beaming against the side of his face, highlighting the taut pull in his features. His question seems genuine, but the answer is obvious, isn’t it? Simply being here with him makes the entire foundation of your soul, all of your morals and beliefs, crumble to pieces. Against your better judgment, you’re still here. 

Yearning. Trying. Fighting.

You swipe a thumb over his thick brows, trying to ease the angry crinkle that’s become a permanent fixture on his beautiful face. You comb through his hair. It’s a little knotted, a little crunchy from old gel. 

The answer should be obvious, but you don’t think Jungkook could internalize love if it was right in front of him.

“I care about you,” you say truthfully, “a lot.”

The stars in his eyes gleam for a moment, glowing bright and vibrant, before they’re engulfed by the suffocating blackness of his pupils. 

“You poor thing,” Jungkook tuts, trailing his fingers up your neck before grasping your jaw with a single hand. The baby fat of your cheeks mushes together from the force. “You're gonna let me do whatever I want to you, aren't you?”

The tone of his voice has your heart fluttering and your stomach churning with thick hot desire. Gripping his wrist with both hands, you moan out a ‘yes,’ unconsciously grinding down onto his slack-covered bulge. He’s barely touched you yet and your cunt is leaking, making a mess of your itty bitty thong and his work suit. 

“Right, of course.” With the same hand holding you, Jungkook taps his index finger against your glossy pout, “open.” Just barely parting your lips, you let the thick digit slide between them. Immediately, he presses down against your tongue, trying to coax a gag out of you. “What if I want to fuck this pretty little mouth until you cry? How does that sound? Would you like that?”

Inhaling deeply, you nod. That sounds absolutely perfect.

“I don’t know if you can handle it, though,” he lulls, retracting his finger before plunging it back in, all the up to his inked knuckle. You squint in defiance. He’s teasing, but you can’t fight the tinge of anger in your chest. If there’s one thing you can do, it’s suck a mean dick. Looking him directly in the eyes, you swirl your tongue against his palm with ease, not choking once. You feel his cock twitch against the supple flesh of your inner thigh. 

Unamused by your antics, Jungkook yanks his hand back angrily, making a string of saliva drip down your chin. Maybe a full face of makeup wasn’t the best idea. “Get in the backseat,” he orders huskily, wiping the damp skin on his blazer. Biting back a smirk, you climb off his lap and wriggle over the center console. You situate yourself on the cool leather, laying down and assuming face-fuck position. 

The yellow glow of headlights swims across the ceiling as a passing car drifts down the misty highway. This is the first time in five months that you and Jungkook are out in the open, blissfully oblivious to the possibility of getting caught. It’s childish, but you hope someone sees. For a moment in time—in a wandering eye’s glimpse of reality—you’re his and he's yours.

“Couldn’t wait until we got to the hotel, huh?” Jungkook huffs when he opens the door. Giddily, you lean your head back over the edge of the seat, coming face to face with the tent in his pants. His hands frantically work to unbuckle his belt, desperate to bury himself inside of you. His favorite escape. “Well, since you want to act like a fucking whore-” his pants fall to his knees with a clang when he unbuttons them, “-I’ll treat you like one.”

“Please,” you whimper, noting the wet spot on his gray Calvin Kleins. Reaching up, you lightly drag your nails across it, teasingly pinching the head of his cock before he tugs his boxers down. A big greedy smile spreads across your face as his semi springs out. 

The sight makes your lips part. It’s so pretty. Something about how the moonlight catches the glowy pink tip, peeking out from under his foreskin. The light accentuates every ridge and vein on his girthy shaft. So yummy it has you drooling-

Jungkook’s right. You’re a complete and utter whore.

“Is this what you wanted?” He peers down at you over his prominent nose, one hand clutching the roof of his Mercedes. The other wraps around his thick shaft, giving it a few languid pumps, getting himself fully erect for you. Teasingly, he taps the head against your plump lips. Unable to resist, you press a sweet peck and a kitten lick to his silky frenulum. “Uh-uh,” he chuckles, raising his delicious cock just beyond your reach. “You know better than that. Ask for permission.”

“Wanna suck it,” you pout, squirming impatiently. “Please?”

Suddenly, his heavy cock slaps your cheek with a wet thud.

“Please, what?”

“Please, sir?”

“Good girl.” The praise is contradicted by another light smack to your face, this time with an open palm. Taking the hint, you open your mouth wide, tongue sticking out in anticipation. Jungkook watches you intently with furrowed brows and a slack jaw as he feeds you the first few inches. As soon as the salty flavor of his arousal hits your tastebuds, you moan obnoxiously, back arching off the leather beneath you. 

He starts slowly, using your breathing to guide his movements—pausing on the exhales and giving you a bit more on the inhales. He does this until the entirety of his length is shoved down your warm, wet mouth. 

The hem of his black dress shirt flows over you, obstructing his view. He places it between his teeth with an annoyed groan, wanting to watch the swell in your neck as you swallow him like a snake. “You take it so well,” he grunts over the material, “the best I’ve ever had.”

Tears clinging to your lashes finally lose grip, trickling down your skin until they get lost in the thick, dark swoops of your dangling hair. For once, you mean something more to him than she does. It’s insignificant and shameful, but at least it's something.

“Are you okay, __?” Jungkook asks, sensing the shift as your soul splays before him like your half-naked body. Stepping back, he gives you some reprieve.

With red eyes and drool bubbling at the corners of your lips, you moan out an implied ‘yes.’ His confession has you on cloud nine.

“Do you remember the sign?”

Again, you hum. 

“Can you show me?”

Lazily, you tap his outer thigh three times, a hard ‘stop’ symbol you had agreed upon months ago while hanging off the edge of a hotel bed, preparing for Jungkook to fuck your mouth for the very first time. 

“Good girl,” he says before rutting his entire length into you again. He’s so deep that the soft skin of his scrotum nudges against the tip of your nose, and the dense patch of trimmed hair on his pubic bone tickles your chin. Reaching down, Jungkook grips your neck, reveling in the feeling of it stretching against his palm as he moves in and out steadily. 

Eventually, he hunches over, hands wandering down and holding your temples for better leverage. Despite the harsh digs of his hips, his delicate fingers brush away a few strands of hair stuck to your damp cheeks. The sweet gesture makes you whimper around him in pure ecstasy, moving your head to meet his thrusts for extra stimulation, circling your flat tongue around the base. 

The whistles of the midnight breeze and the murmur of passing cars fade, and all you hear is Jungkook. The melodic, venomous praises pouring out of him poison your mind with optimism. He takes one last plunge, so powerful it sends you sliding back against the seat. To steady yourself, you grip his legs, attempting to ease your triggered gag reflex. He holds you there, cock stuffed to the brim as he slams a hand against the black steel of his car, shirt falling from his teeth as he moans ardently. You gasp when he finally pulls out, leaking tip still connected to you by a bridge of spit and precum.

“Why-” Cough. “Why did you stop?” 

Your question is met with only the sound of rustling fabric and the chime of his hanging belt buckle as he removes his suit jacket and throws it into the passenger seat. Grabbing you by the band of your lingerie, Jungkook hauls your frame closer.

He snaps your taut bra strap against your shoulder with a single finger. “Take this off.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter, still trying to catch your breath as you sit up at the waist and unclip your bra. A shiver runs down your spine as the cool night air licks your exposed chest. This time when you lie down, you’re positioned under his spread legs. He stands over you with such authority and dominance. The underside view of his hard cock looks absolutely menacing. 

“These,” Jungkook’s large palms grab at your tits, jiggling them, “I wanna fuck ‘em.”

“There isn’t anything for you to fuck,” you giggle. 

After years of insecurity, and crying over vengeful comments from dumb boys you had broken things off with, you finally came to terms with your appearance. Your tits are small, and that’s okay. Plus, the cute little nipple piercings you had gotten a while back were definitely a confidence booster. There wasn’t an ounce of self-hatred in your comment.

Jungkook doesn’t take it that way, though.

“Shut up.” With a huff, he steps back and hunches, reaching down to deliver a harsh swat to your cheek. It was a little rougher than usual, and you wince upon impact. Instantly, he soothes the skin with a gentle pet. “Your tits are… perfect.”

Perfect? Your cheeks and aching pussy heat up at the compliment.

Squeezing your chest, Jungkook brushes his thumbs over your pebbled nipples. He pays extra attention to the silver barbells, decorated with little sparkly peaches at the ends. “These are new,” he notes, tugging on the jewelry. You let out a breathy moan, legs clenching together, inner thighs embarrassingly wet. “Sheesh,” he laughs, “someone’s sensitive.”

“Yeah… keep going.”

“I like them. They’re cute on you.”

Throughout your acquaintances, Jungkook was rarely this vocal. Maybe some praise sprinkled in here and there, but seldom anything substantial. Tonight, however, he’s been dishing out sweet talk like candy. You can’t pinpoint precisely what, but something’s changed.

Whatever it is, it fills you with awful, wishful hope.

Jungkook shuffles closer, teasing the teat of your pierced bud with his sticky tip. The dreamy sensation has your eyes rolling back into your skull. A glob of spit drops between the valley of your breasts before he spreads the wetness over your skin with his shaft. He has to use a death grip to force your tits into a soft plushness, perfect for him to slot himself into. Again, you feel that fucking ring embedding itself into your skin like a nasty tick. 

Cautiously, he guides his pulsing cock between your constrained breasts. A beautiful symphony of groans lulls out as he throws his head back in pleasure, long locks dancing along his clammy neck. 

“You like that?” You hum, taunting him. “Tell me how it feels.”

It takes him a minute to collect his thoughts, eyes trained on your tits pillowing around him, focusing on the dewy sheen of your nipples and chest as his oozing cock spills onto your skin. “It feels-” his hips stutter, “-so fucking good.”

The way his teeth snarl around the hushed curse makes you smile, eyes closing as you relish in his pleasure. Maybe you’re too horny, or perhaps the blood rushing to your head from being upside down for so long is making you crazy, but you wish you could live in this moment forever. Wallowing in the darkness, frozen in time with him. Yeah, you think, that would be wonderful.

“You can touch yourself,” he comments, spotting your clenched legs, desperate for some pressure. 

“S’okay,” you mumble, reaching around to caress his balls. His thighs tremble a bit against your arms. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

“Can you-” he grunts, stomach clenching as he begins to feel that familiar pooling in the base of his thick shaft. “Hold them for me. I’ll take care of you after, just- let me cum.”

Obliging, you replace his hands with your own, squishing your tits together for him. The visual of you lying under him, complacent and willing, sends him spiraling. A guttural roar echoes throughout the empty road as he speeds up. “Tighter,” he orders; you listen. The saliva and precum are beginning to rub off, making the friction of his chaotic thrusts sting your skin. He notices, letting another string of spit fall from his mouth onto your flesh. “Be good and take it. I’m almost there.”

By now, Jungkook should know you’d endure any pain to be with him. 

The darkest parts of your brain tell you he’s well aware of that fact. 

After a few more humps and lulled words of encouragement, he’s bursting at the seams. Just before he blows, Jungkook steps back, tight fist jerking himself frantically as he spills his seed onto your chest. Your eyes dart from his angry cock to his fucked out expressions. The moonlight shines behind him like a glowing aura as he finishes with a scrunched nose and his tongue between his teeth. He looks angelic. You moan under him, flinching when a stray spurt lands on your chin. 

Fucked out and dazed, he laughs softly, running a hand through his hair as his chest heaves. Collecting the liquid with his finger, he brings it to your giggling lips. The taste makes you hum as you lazily begin rubbing his cum all over your tits. 

“Really?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. “You’re already starting?”

“Starting what?” You pout, batting your lashes at him and circling your nipple lightly with the tip of your nail, trying your best to look oblivious and innocent. Well, as innocent as you possibly can while literally covered in sperm. 

“Don’t play dumb. You know what you’re doing.”

See, in many ways, Jungkook is different from any other guy you’ve been with prior. For one, you didn’t meet via horny messages on Tinder at 1 a.m. For two, he’s older, meaning he’s much more intelligent and much more experienced. After years and years of honing in on his craft, he just knows how to fuck. Jungkook is one of the rare few penis-havers in the world who can orgasm back to back; no refractory period necessary. Truly a hidden gem. 

To put it simply, the man is a fucking faucet—one that you can turn off and on whenever you want. 

As if on cue, Jungkook twirls his inked finger, indicating for you to turn around. The other hand squeezes his cock just below the crown to cut off circulation, keeping himself erect. With that, your white converses are planted flat onto the sparse grass as you bend over the back seat, leaning your weight on your elbows. 

It's like whiplash when Jungkook's aggressive persona drops, and he's running his hands all over your body. Up your thighs, over your back, down your arms. He blooms petal-soft kisses on your bare shoulder before whispering in your ear. “Can I go in like this? Or do you need some foreplay?”

“This is fine,” you murmur, jarred by his sudden tenderness. “Perfect, actually.” 

With a hushed ‘alright,’ Jungkook reaches over you to rummage through the pocket of his discarded blazer. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as he pulls out a square foil packet. Condoms were an unwavering constant in your weekend escapades. Jungkook always wears condoms. Normally, that would be a great thing; however, in this situation, it’s like a stab to the heart…

Because if he’s adamant about using protection with you, then that means he’s still sleeping with her, doesn’t it? And it’s not like you can even ask or scold him about it. She’s his wife, after all. You’re the outsider. 

Jungkook hooks his thumb into your panties and pulls them aside. Your glistening folds are on full display, waiting to get pounded mercilessly right on the side of the road. He shoves three digits into your mouth, letting your drool on them a bit before pressing them to your wet cunt. Opening your folds with his index and ring fingers, he lightly dips the middle inside you. He collects some arousal and spreads it to your clit in feathery flicking motions. You cry out, feeling the shocks of a blossoming orgasm. 

“Already dripping, I see.” You can practically hear his cocky, satisfied grin as he stands straight and rolls the condom down his length. “Always so sensitive.”

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, “I always get like this with you.”

“I know you do.” Pulling a cheek to the side, Jungkook cards his sheathed tip through your entrance, making sure to nudge under your clitoral hood with every swipe. Lewd wet sounds ring in your ears as he tortures your hole relentlessly. 

“Kook,” you huff, reaching back to dig your manicured, almond-shaped nails into his skin. “Just put it in!”

Suddenly, Jungkook slams your torso onto the leather. In one swift motion, he’s catching your wrists, pinning them both to your lower back with a single hand. 

“I’ll give you what you want just-” releasing the back of your neck, he spanks you so hard you recoil, “be patient.”

Despite his words, you wait no longer than a minute before he’s guiding his dreamy member right where you want it. Jungkook always gives in quickly. How could he not when you’re ass up, face down, and practically begging? As he sinks into you, and you feel that familiar burn from the initial stretch, your eyes roll back, mouth opening around a silent scream. 

Usually, Jungkook likes to overwhelm you with his entire length all at once. There’s some hesitation this time as he slides in only halfway before stopping. Too much hesitation for your liking. You’re confident he’s testing you. Your assumption is verified when he speaks in that annoying, condescending voice.

“If you want it so bad, come get it.”

“You’re so,” breaking free from his grasp, you press your palms into the seat and lift yourself up with a grumble, “infuriating.”

He hums halfheartedly, head dropping to watch you work yourself onto him. Only a single stroke in, and he can already see you coating him in a shiny, milky dew. “So fucking wet…”

“Can’t help it,” you peep, taking him to the hilt and circling your hips, trying to savor the feeling. You’re no stranger to his cock; how good it makes you feel. You spend every Friday night bathing in that pleasure, forgoing parties and hangouts with your best friends for a romp in the five-star hotel sheets with Jungkook. Still, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to commit his touch to memory. Perhaps, despite your denial, you recognize that this is temporary. Deep down, you know that someday, all you’ll have left of him is a tragic echo. “I love the way you make me feel.”

“Me too,” he gasps, guiding your movements as his fingers dig into your hips. Clearly interpreting your admission differently than you had meant it. “Your pussy’s like heaven.” 

High on praise and drunk on the sounds you’re coaxing out of him, you whine, dragging your cunt up every inch of his throbbing length before slamming back. Hopefully, the dense forest behind you is enough to insulate the pornographic wails ripping through you. Even if someone somewhere hears, you can’t bring yourself to give a damn. Not when heady pleasure and adrenaline course through your veins like blood. 

Just when you’re about to collapse, arms giving out underneath you, Jungkook grabs you by the neck and holds you flush against his toned chest. “Don’t you run,” he chuckles. The low baritone rumble goes straight to your clit. His warm breath gusts over your skin, contrasting the chilly night air. “Don’t give up on me.”

He’s pounding into you now, choking you tighter than he ever has, but he pecks you so delicately. Lips barely ghosting over the shell of your ear. So gentle and tender. As tears stream down your cheeks for the second time tonight, you can’t help but feel there’s a hidden meaning behind his words.

“What’s wrong?” He smirks, tilting your face, wanting you to look him in the eye as you fall apart. The visual nearly makes you combust. His stringy hair is sticking to his cheeks, flushed from exertion. Even the tattoos littering the expanse of his neck are splotched pink and red. Twisting in his hold, you grab a fistful of his damp waves, fingers tickling his short undercut. “What do you want, baby?”

“Cum…”

“You wanna cum?”

“Please, please, please.” Weak whimpers punch out of you in tandem with his brutal thrusts.

“What do you say?”

“Please, sir?”

“Good girl,” he rewards you with a smack to your sensitive clit, “you can cum. I’ve got you.”

And with his permission, you’re cumming. Your legs shake violently as you’re overcome with blinding, electric gratification. If it wasn’t for Jungkook’s strong arms supporting you, you would’ve toppled face-first into the seat. He fucks you through the height of your orgasm; hips never ceasing, even when everything becomes so intense and sensitive that your body instinctively tries to push him away. He watches your face intently, reading your expressions to ensure he’s milked every last drop of your orgasm before he lets you fall onto the leather.

Even in your hazy state, you catch the breathy string of curses, a telltale sign of his own impending orgasm. “Fuck!” He groans, removing the condom to paint your ass and lower back in hot, white ropes. 

It’s funny, really. 

He refuses to cum with you or inside you, something so intimate and special, but he has no qualms cumming on you. It’s almost like he’s marking you, burning himself into your flesh. Consuming a piece of you every time your bodies come together as one. 

And all the while, his mind is somewhere else as his body swallows you alive. 

“Look at you,” Jungkook laughs, smoothing a palm up and down your spine, rubbing his semen into your skin the same way you had earlier. “I’ve made a mess out of you.” 

That’s true in more ways than one…

Lost in post-nut clarity, your brain barely registers Jungkook maneuvering you both into the car. Closing the door behind him, he moves you onto his lap, your back pressed against his sweaty button-up. Peering down, you see his slacks and boxers still around his ankles, black dress shoes poking out underneath. You’re in only a thong and sneakers, and your makeup is definitely melted. The two of you must look like the biggest sluts ever.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook mutters, noticing your delirious giggles. 

“Oh, nothing,” you hum, leaning into him. Habitually, he wraps both of his inked arms around your middle. You despise how incredibly natural and serendipitous it feels, almost like you’re meant to be in them.

God __, get your head out of the clouds and return to Earth. 

Life isn’t a romance novel, and you’re not a child anymore. You shouldn’t see the world as quartz-colored and magical. The man is seven years older than you. He has a wife and child. Logistically, it could never, ever work…

But if soulmates exist as they do in the books, you wish on every falling star that Jungkook is yours.

“What are you thinking about?” You coo softly, turning your head to stare into the abyss of his infinite eyes.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, he can’t resist lowering his sinful hand to your most private area, cupping your sex unabashedly. “I want more.”

“You always want more.” 

“So do you,” he laughs, pointing out the way you grind into his touch. Nuzzling into your shoulder, he nips your skin and then soothes his tongue over it like an insincere apology. “Just one more time, okay?”

You nod, head leaning back on his shoulder as you succumb to his skilled fingers, rubbing your clit in tight circles. Jungkook pauses in contemplation before popping his glistening fingers into his mouth. When the taste hits his tongue, his face contorts. He even moans dreamily like you’re the most delicious dessert he’s experienced. The scene has your own brows furrowing, lips parting at just how hot and bothered he’s got you. 

Sensually, he trails the wet pads down, ghosting over a nipple, teasing you on their treacherous journey to your waiting core. He slides them in your wet cunt seamlessly, curling right into your g-spot. They move in a dip and wave that drives you wild, a wet suction noise sounding in the enclosed space. Turned on by your purrs and mewls, Jungkook subtly ruts against you, his plumping cock sliding between your cheeks.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” He tuts patronizingly. “Gonna cum around my fingers, sweetheart?”

“No…”

“No?”

“Wanna cum with you…”

He stops, realizing what you’re alluding to, before pulling his fingers out and tapping your clit gently. “There’s another condom in my pocket. Can you hand it to me?”

“We don’t need it.”

“Yes, we do. Don’t be foolish.”

“... I’m on the pill,” you suggest hesitantly. Once again, you’re nothing but stupid and irresponsible when it comes to Jungkook. You just want to be with him, that’s all. 

“__,” he starts, voice shadowed with sternness, “give me the condom.”

Realizing he won’t budge, you do as he asks and fish it from his blazer, watching idly as he goes through all the steps—stroking himself to full mass, rolling on a barrier, and then positioning you between his spread legs as he guides you down onto his length with a hand on your hip. 

Cyclical. 

Like clockwork, your jaw drops, eyes screwing shut as you let him invade your space and infiltrate your mind. You don’t believe the two of you have ever tried this position before, but it feels so fucking good. His cock is so deep you can feel it in your fucking stomach. It’s obvious from his groaning and the aggressive spank he gives you that the unexplored angle is affecting him too. 

Outside, light rain begins chiming against the steel roof of his car as you take the first shallow rise of your hips. 

Scratch everything you’ve said about this not being a romance novel.

Distracted by the calming sound, you thoroughly miscalculate how much space you have in his sleek Mercedes Benz and bonk your head on the ceiling.

“Ow,” you wince with an embarrassed giggle.

Hissing at the impact, Jungkook clutches your head, massaging the area gently. “Are you okay?” His voice is muffled, and you can tell he’s trying his best not to laugh. 

“It’s not funny!” You shout playfully, slapping his knee. 

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry.” Chuckling, he moves your hair and places a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades. “You’re cute, that's all.”

Cute? You swoon. 

“Alright baby, keep going. Don’t stop,” Jungkook orders, the heel of his calloused palms pushing at your ass, encouraging you to bounce on his needy cock. A fucked-out sigh escapes him, head falling back for a split second before it jerks back up again, not wanting to miss the view of your perky cheeks rippling as they collide with his solid pelvis. “This position is so sexy.” Overwhelmed, he doesn’t know where to put his hands. He chokes you for a moment, plays with your tits, swats them, grabs your hips, and then finally settles on your clit, flicking it like a light switch.

“Jungkook!” You wail, knees knocking together as you brace yourself. Men you’ve dated in the past struggled to get you off. Sure, they made you feel good, but they couldn’t quite bring you to the edge. It only ever took Jungkook a matter of minutes to have you whimpering and shaking, begging for release. “I can’t take so much! I can’t!”

Ignoring your pleas, Jungkook pilots your right arm around his shoulder, sending you flush against his frame once more. Dipping his head, he sucks the closest nipple into his mouth. Caught off guard, you’re so overstimulated that your hips come to a grinding halt.

“Move,” he commands with his lips sealed around your piercing, sending dizzying vibrations to your sensitive bud. 

“I can’t,” you whimper, back arching off his chest as you try to calm all five tingling senses. 

“Yes, you can.” 

“No…”

Jeon Jungkook was never one to take no for an answer. 

Scooting further down the seat, his large hands clasp behind your knees. He lifts your legs until the heels of your white sneakers are on either side of the driver’s headrest. In this new position, he’s able to pound up into you freely, relentlessly beating into clenching walls. Hitting every single delicious spot inside of you. “Jungkook, please!”

“Please, what?” Honestly, you have no clue what you’re begging for. All you know is that his mushroom tip rigorously stimulating your g-spot is going to have you gushing at any moment. His guttural, sensual groaning does nothing to slow your approaching orgasm. “You want more?” 

As if you weren’t already gasping for air, Jungkook raises your legs to your head, knees locked onto his inner elbows. His fingers intertwine behind your neck, thumbs pressing into the base of your throat as he folds you in half. 

A full fucking nelson. 

“Watch me fuck it.” With a stern grip, he forces your gaze to his thick shaft, sliding in and out of your sopping cunt. Your vision is watery, but you can clearly see just how turned on you are, creamy juices coating his entire shaft. “Open it, baby. Watch what I do to you.” 

Reaching both hands under your thighs, you spread your lips, getting a better look at him completely destroying you.

“Isn’t it so pretty?” Jungkook grunts, speech slurred as his arousal lulls him into a delirious, catatonic state. “Tell me what you see, baby.”

“So pretty, Kook.” You’re simply playing into his dirty talk, but the sight of your bodies connecting, becoming one, is profoundly gorgeous. “So wet…”

“Yeah? Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours.”

That sends him into a frenzy, thrusts becoming so punctuated and violent that his cock accidentally slips out. 

“Put it back in, put it back in!” You chant, frantically shoving his length into you. The yelp you chortle out is accompanied by the sound of your hand smacking against the foggy car window as your climax engulfs you. “I love it!”

“I love yo-”

He quickly cuts himself off, but everything stops when the sentence fragment hits the air. 

Is your brain playing sick, twisted jokes on you… or was he really just about to say he loved you?

Before you can even process what’s happening, your biological responses take over, sending through the most earth-shattering, world-bending, mind-boggling orgasm you’ve ever had. Everything goes blank. Your eyes cloud with splotches and stars. Your ears ring with static and white noise, blurring the sound of Jungkook cumming underneath you, and the pouring rain outside, splashing against concrete. 

This time, he doesn’t pull out, just works through both of your orgasms with gentle ruts and vulnerable whimpers.

After you’ve both calmed down and your heaves have diminished to a slow, even pattern, he pulls out, crumpling the used condom into a loose napkin he found in the center console. Still on his lap and in his arms, you watch intently as Jungkook leans his head back, eyes closing as he inhales deeply. To you, he looks almost… peaceful. 

The moon trickles in through the thin streams on the window, reflecting on his face like stained glass—something that was once so clear and pure now jaded with somber shades of blue. Sad, but still beautiful, you think. 

Delicately, you trace a finger over the black ink decorating his skin. You sit silently for a while, basking in the comfortable aura, simply enjoying one another’s company, before you finally speak.

“Why this?” You peep, pointing to the dainty letters at the base of his neck.

“It’s my daughter’s name.” He counters playfully, the faintest hint of a smile on his pierced lips.

“Well, duh, I know that,” you roll your eyes with a giggle, “but why here?”

“Yul is like air to me.” 

Humming in contemplation, you continue your journey over the endless swirls and loops. During sex, the first three buttons of his shirt popped open, exposing the canvas of his chest. You feel a thick, dark cloud loom over you when you reach a certain tattoo, the one that’s plagued your mind ever since you first saw it. 

Another name is engraved right above his heart in the same delicate font as Yul’s:

Seol. 

“Yul, please. Enough.” If Jungkook had a dollar for every time he's said that in the last twenty-two minutes, he’d be nearly as rich as his boss, sitting directly in front of him on a very important Zoom call. “Daddy is working.”

Jumping at the sudden inflection of his voice, the little girl on his lap pulls her tiny hand away. For the most part, Yul was well-behaved. However, working from home proved to be an obstacle that he and his clingy toddler have yet to overcome. 

She’s interrupted his meeting three times already. First, cutting off his proposal with the Baby Shark theme song, blaring from her Pinkfong tablet that he’d forgotten to mute. Second, peeking above his desk with her space buns and doe eyes to show his colleagues the latest addition to her squishmallow collection. The last straw was when she squeezed his nose. 

With watery eyes and warbled lips, Yul blinks at Jungkook, heartbroken and confused as to why he didn’t make that funny noise she loves so much. Quickly, her gaze averts to her chunky legs, swinging aimlessly as she attempts to hold back the tears.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Jungkook sighs, tacking on an apology before turning his screen off. “Bunny,” he lifts her chin with his index finger, another palm flat on her protruding tummy, “please, don’t cry. You’re not in trouble. Daddy just-”

The ring of a doorbell interrupts him.

“__?” Jungkook questions, baby at his hip as he stands in the doorway before you. “What are you doing here?”

You gulp. You weren’t expecting to see him.

Usually, you spoke to Seulgi. You’ve only ever seen Jungkook in passing, sparing quick greetings before he’s out the door. It worked in your favor, really, because for whatever reason, you felt extremely awkward around him.

Almost like that gross nervousness you get when you’re around someone you find so incredibly attractive it makes you uncomfortable…

Maybe it’s because he’s covered in tattoos and piercings. Maybe it’s because he’s a dad. Your group of fellow horny twenty-something-year-old friends have told you mythical stories and fantasies about older men. Freshly turned thirty-year-old men. Men like Jungkook. Dilfs. Something about that potent dad nut… Like, you know it works. 

It’s inappropriate; you know it is. You’ve always tried your best to ignore the feral thoughts.

Today seems to be putting your mental strength to the test because Jungkook is dressed in baggy gray sweats, long dark hair slicked back into a ponytail. A few loose strands dangle devilishly in front of his eyes, taunting you.

“I-It’s 10… I’m supposed to be babysitting.”

“I’m working from home today. My wife didn’t tell you?”

With wide eyes and hot cheeks, you shake your head. “I’m sorry for bothering you,” you stutter, stepping back and preparing to make a mad dash to your hand-me-down Honda Civic. “I’ll just… be on my way then.” 

“Actually.” An icy grip on your wrist stops you. “I could use some help. This one-” he nods his head towards Yul, stuck to him like velcro, “-is being a bit needy today.” 

One look at her turns your flustered gape into a smile. The past month with her has been more difficult than you’d imagined. Yul was incredibly sweet and intuitive, but unbearably shy. Building a relationship with the girl was challenging, but you were determined to overcome it. “No way,” you frown animatedly, tickling her leg with the tip of your finger, “Yul would never.”

A giggle or two had been the goal. Instead, she buries her face into her father’s shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” Jungkook orders, noticing the defeated slump in your shoulders. “She’s always like this with new people.”

Seulgi had warned you that Yul would take a while to come around. Hopefully, it’ll happen organically. But for now, a little gift or two wouldn’t hurt your efforts, you supposed last night while running errands. Reaching into your purse, you pull out a bottle of non-toxic, baby-friendly nail polish. “Yul, look what I have!”

“Wow,” Jungkook plays along, gently nudging her head out of his neck. “Bunny, look!”

He calls her Bunny? 

You’re in for it now. 

Plump fingers wrap around the plastic, taking it out of your own with an awe-stricken stare. She holds it up right in front of Jungkook’s nose. “Pink.”

“Mhm, that’s right,” he confirms, pecking her temple. “Now, Daddy has to get back to work. Can you stay with __ for a bit?”

She looks at him, then at you, then at him again, then back at you, and finally, landing on the nail polish, giving her father a reluctant nod. You knew it would come in handy. Despite her agreeance, Yul still stretches the neck of his shirt with her tiny fists as she’s transferred into your arms. 

Somehow, you managed to survive that painfully awkward encounter…

Only to be thrown into another one immediately after. 

See, you’ve always known Yul was a daddy’s girl. On good days, the toddler would grab you by the hand and guide you around the house, giving you a tour of everything that belonged to her father. His shoes at the door. His coat on the hook. Even taking you into the bathroom to show you his shampoo bottle. But that fact was never more apparent than now, as Yul stands in the middle of the living room on the verge of tears.

“Daddy?”

“He’s working, sweetheart. Remember?” You coo on your knees in front of her. You’re quick to redirect her. “I like your shoes.”

The sniffles stop as she glances down at her white sneakers. “Mine…” she takes a hesitant step back, mistaking your compliment as an attempt to swindle her out of them. 

“That’s right,” you laugh, “they’re so pretty, just like you.”

She blinks at you for a moment, and then begins stomping her little foot: heel first. When she’s finally able to kick off her left shoe, she bends all the way over, pressing her palms flat against the hardwood floor. It’s the most uncoordinated way you’ve ever seen anyone pick something up. 

Without warning, Yul throws the shoe across the room. Well, that had been her intention, you assume. She had cocked her arm back too far and released too early, making it land behind her. 

Oh no, she hates you. 

With an excited grunt and a bounce, Yul points to the sneaker—its clear sole sparkling pink and purple.

“Oh,” you sigh in relief. “They light up?” 

“Yesh.” Plopping right onto her butt, she takes the other one off, repeating the process. “Like this!” Her arms stretch out and she clenches her two little front teeth, executing the most stellar charade of a light you’ve ever seen. 

It’s a small breakthrough, but you’ll take it. 

Then you paint her nails, just like you said you would. She’s as patient as a toddler could be, but her tiny toe keeps curling under the tickle of the brush, making pink polish bleed outside of the lines. 

“My goodness,” you groan, admiring the messy, albeit adorable, result. “You’re so cute! Wait until your dad sees you.” 

Yul shrieks wildly, smacking both hands over her mouth as she hobbles to her feet. You watch with confused giggles as the milk-drunk baby stumbles down the corridor. You figure out where she's going too late. 

Yul stands on her tippy toes, jumping to click open the door to Jungkook’s office with a loud creak. 

“Yul!” You whisper-shout. “Don’t-”

“Daddy!” She calls, stepping a single foot into the room, showing off the fresh paint job. “So cute!” 

Literally, your only job today was to keep Yul preoccupied while Jungkook worked, and you failed. Your breath catches in your throat, awaiting his response. 

“So pretty,” he gasps, “now go play, baby. I’m almost done.” 

A relieved exhale flies past your lips. 

Something you’ve picked up on from years of babysitting is that little girls aren’t allowed to compliment themselves. They’re always told it’s rude or conceited. Jungkook does neither, and you find that so refreshing. 

“Close the door, please,” he orders before she runs away, “gently.” Yul does her very best to shut the door quietly and then sprints back to you. 

The next few hours go smoothly. You discovered that the green-hating toddler has an affinity for avocados after giving her a bite of your toast. “Mmm!” She had hummed, looking at you with wide eyes. With a full belly and squishmallow in hand, Yul went out like a light for her afternoon nap, giving you time to catch up on some reading. 

“How was she?” You didn’t even hear him come out of his office, so the deep voice makes you jump, eyes tracking the sound. He’s leaning against a kitchen counter, one tattooed hand stuffed in his pocket and the other wrapped around a water bottle. It’s a thick one too, and his fingers still touch. 

“Better,” you cough, “she’s sleeping now.”

He hums halfheartedly, dark irises boring into you as he takes a sip. Without Yul to soften the edges, Jungkook is… intimidating, to say the least. “What are you reading?”

“The Catcher in the Rye…” you peep, quickly closing it. “I know, it’s kinda lame.”

“No, not lame at all. Anyone who thinks that is lying to themselves… or is just being a contrarian.” He leans his elbows against the dark granite island, fingers crossing as he stares at you. You’re sitting idle across the room, but his presence looms over you. He has this way of making you feel like he’s in your head, listening to everything you’re thinking. 

You pray he’s not. If he is, you'll definitely be fired. 

“I can’t tell which one you are yet.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but the ‘yet’ makes you come clean, shifting in your spot on the leather couch. “... Both.”

“Right,” he smirks, tongue fiddling with his lip ring, almost like he’s taunting you. “That’s one of my favorite books, actually. I relate to it in many ways.”

Your fingers dance across the red cover, concealing hundreds of pages of isolation, emptiness, and the heavy dread of passing time. What an awful thing to relate to. Sometimes, when you get too engrossed in the text, glimmers of yourself bleed within the lines too. 

“You’re an English major, right?”

“Oh, um, I’m not in school at the moment… I just read for fun.”

“Well, you have an Associate’s degree.” Him knowing that information about you makes you think he asked the previous question with the intention of baiting you into this conversation. “Why not get your Bachelor’s?”

“I don’t know. It’s… complicated.” 

Why is he interrogating you? What does he want? For you to confess that the fear of becoming a full-fledged adult makes you not want to go back to college? 

“Life is complicated. You’d be ridiculous to not go back.” The audacity should make you mad, but he speaks with so much authority that you’re dumbfounded. His head tilts, eyes squinting as they shift to the ceiling, debating something. His tongue clicks when he finally makes his decision. “Follow me; I have something I want to show you.” 

With the curl of two thick fingers, Jungkook calls you to follow him down the hallway. You blink for a moment, gushing at the suggestive motion of his hand. Shaking your head at the evil, intrusive thought, you rise to your feet. 

Just like a child, you have to skip to catch up to his long strides. Your gaze trails along white walls; there are pictures of him and Yul, Yul and Seulgi, but not a single one of them all together. 

Now that you think about it, any affection you’ve ever seen in the household was reserved for Yul and Yul only. Seems like trouble in paradise…

You shouldn’t speculate.

The heavy wooden door creaks as Jungkook holds it open for you. You’re not sure what you expected his room to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this. The rest of the house is pretty modern, consisting of sleek blacks, whites, and woods. Countertops designed with icy swirled marble. Everything has this cold, impersonal vibe, but this room is the total opposite. The walls are baby blue, decorated top to bottom with dreamy clouds. You spot a chubby yellow star peeking out from underneath one of them, adorned with a hand-painted smiley face. On his nightstand, there’s a pastel purple foldable record player. Standing behind it is a single vinyl: Beautiful Boy by John Lennon. 

“Since you like to read,” Jungkook coughs, turning your attention to a sleek bookcase, stuffed to the brim with hundreds of titles you’ve never even heard of. “I figured you’d appreciate my collection.”

“Yeah, it’s…” The words trail off as you step forward. On a whim, your finger extends, tracing the delicate spine of a well-loved book. A low chuckle brings you back to reality; you peep, cheeks heating up in embarrassment as you yank your hand away. “It’s… really cool.”

“You can borrow something if you’d like. Does anything catch your eye?” Plopping down onto the computer chair, Jungkook rummages through his desk drawer and pulls out a tiny black case. You didn’t even know he wore glasses, and when he nudges them comfily onto the bridge of his nose, you nearly melt. As if he could get any more attractive.

“N-No,” you stutter as he wheels closer. Even though you’re towering over him, you still feel so small in his presence. You pray to God he can’t sense how incredibly nervous he makes you. “Not really.” 

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, you know,” he hums, low and sly. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No!” You peep in shock. Is the man a fucking mindreader? 

“Right.” Jungkook peers over the rim of his lenses, dark eyes glimmering in the whimsical glow of the room. “So __, what do you want to be?”

“A teacher,” you say, playing with your fingers.

“My wife wanted to be a teacher, too.” He shoots you the softest, gentlest smile. “She ended up doing business instead.” 

“Why?” You ask, gnawing on your bottom lip. You don’t mean to pry, but this is the first time you’ve ever actually talked to him in a meaningful way. Something about him intrigues you, like a puzzle you’re determined to find all the pieces to. 

“Ah, well,” he sighs, inked fingers scratching at the back of his neck. “We figured it’d be best for our family if we both pursued more lucrative career paths. I switched my major from English to finance.” You light up at the confession, the similarity putting you at ease. “I’m sorry if I was abrasive earlier,” he frowns, “I settled down young and had to sacrifice a lot, so I encourage you to go for something that fulfills you.” With his elbows on his knees, he leans closer to you. “I think you’d be a fantastic teacher. You take care of my daughter well.”

“Thank you,” you peep, cheeks heating up at the compliment. “I mean… you didn’t have Yul that young.” He tried to comfort you, so it’s only fair you do the same, right? “I think your late twenties are a great time to have children.”

Almost immediately, his face drops, eyes glazing over with something so raw. So… longing. You’ve never seen anything like it before. The corners of his nose twitch before he composes himself. “Yeah, I suppose they are.” His pink tongue toys with his lip ring, swiftly changing the subject. “You seem surprised.” 

“I guess I just wasn’t expecting all this.” 

“Expecting what?” 

“I don’t know,” you laugh clumsily, “books.” You mentally curse yourself as soon as the answer comes out. Really, __? Books? 

“What?” He starts, raising a brow at you. “You thought I couldn’t read?”

Thankfully, Jungkook takes your comment playfully. 

“Maybe,” you respond in the same lighthearted manner, feeling a bit more comfortable in his presence, “I also didn’t expect your room to look like a little boy’s room.”

All of the cheerfulness in the air evaporates as Jungkook glares at you with a clenched jaw and flared nostrils. Cleary irate. You’ve triggered a landmine.

“Jungkook, I’m-”

“Stop talking.” He raises a hand, cutting you off before you finish the sentence. Turning his back to you, he wheels over to his desk. “You can leave. You’re done for the day.” 

Looking back, you know why he was so upset that day. You had put the puzzle pieces together a while ago. You’re unsure of the details, and asking for them feels wrong. Silence feels wrong, too, though. Until now, you’ve never dared to speak up. 

You have no idea how to navigate something of this magnitude, but you just want him to know that you’re here. That you’re trying.

Cautiously, with your hand still on the tattoo, you whisper: “He must’ve been so beautiful, Jungkook…”

The thumb that had been drawing soft shapes into your side comes to an eerie pause as he freezes under you. When you look at him, your heart shatters. His chin is caved in with little dents, eyes glazed over with so much emotion. You’ve never seen a human being look so broken.

“Get off me.”

You frown at the shift in his demeanor. “Why?”

Remaining tight-lipped, Jungkook physically removes you from his lap, dumping you onto the seat next to him.

“Why can’t we ever talk about anything serious?”

He remains quiet as he slides his underwear up, not sparing you a single glance. When he speaks, his tone is painfully detached. “Like what?”

“Like what you said,” you answer curtly. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Shaking his head with a cynical chuckle, he begins buttoning his pants, pretending you don’t exist. Like you’re not right beside him, falling to pieces. 

Your eyes dart to the ceiling, lashes fluttering rapidly as you mull over what to say next. You guess now would be an appropriate time to ask him what you’ve wanted for weeks. Blinking does nothing to combat your unshed tears when you realize that his answer has the potential to destroy everything you’ve been dreaming about. Everything you’ve hoped for. “When are you going to leave her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous, Jungkook!” Shaking your head furiously, you feel the first hints of anger in your chest, tears threatening to spill at any moment. “I’m not! I see the way you look at me!”

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen? Huh?” Finally, he’s paying attention to you, just not in the way you hoped. His face is beet red as he leans closer. “Don’t tell me you actually thought we were going to end up together, __. Seriously? You’re my babysitter! You’re seven years younger than me! This isn’t some fucking fairytale; it’s life! There’s no such thing as happily-ever-afters—grow up and stop acting like a damn child!”

“No, Jungkook,” you croak, fully sobbing as you push an angry finger into his chest. “You’re the one who’s acting childish! I may not be the most mature person, but at least I know how to accept love!”

“So let’s say I divorce my wife, then what? Huh?” He seethes. “I get partial custody? I only see Yul on weekends? Every other week? She grows up in a broken home? I refuse to ruin my daughter’s life like that.”

You take a shaky breath, eyes shifting to the car floor, the air fresher on his mirror, the window. Anywhere but him. The way Jungkook explains your make-believe future together is nothing how you envisioned it. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he’s just a fucking asshole. Neither thought process eases the pain.

“But you’re okay with ruining mine?”

For a moment, his features soften, and you see a glimmer of guilt wash over him. It fizzles out just as fast as it came. “You’re being dramatic.” Jungkook steps outside, tucking his shirt into his pants. “Get dressed.” 

With jittery hands and blurry eyes, you grab your discarded lace bra, the one you had bought just for tonight, and slide it on your shoulders. When you pick your shirt up, you see that it’s ripped and tattered. Completely destroyed. 

“Here,” Jungkook mumbles, tossing you his blazer as he watches you in the rearview. 

Once you’re dressed, you awkwardly slide into the passenger seat. The scent of his cologne makes your head pound and your stomach flip. 

“I want to go home.”

His lips part, preparing to persuade you otherwise. The hotel room he booked is ready and waiting, just as it is every Friday. He decides against it, simply murmuring an ‘okay’ before putting the keys in the ignition and starting the engine. 

“Do you want to get something to eat before I drop you off?” 

You just want your dad. 

“I just want to go home.”

Other than the whoosh of splashing puddles and your soft sniffles, the ride to your house is painfully silent. Leaning your head against the window, you watch the moon. For miles and miles, it never changes. It’s stagnant, frozen in time, surrounded by nothing but endless blackness. 

“Stop crying! I can’t stand it anymore!” Jungkook shouts, hitting the steering wheel with his open palm, finally growing uncomfortable from your non-stop tears. The sudden outburst makes you flinch. Sighing heavily, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. Just… stop crying, please.”

You sink further into your seat, curling your lips into your mouth to suppress a sob.

“I’m not worth your tears, __.”

You feel nothing but relief when he finally turns onto your street, stopping all the way at the end, concealed by the night and the shadows of overhanging trees. 

“Am I picking you up next Friday?” He asks just before you leave. 

With raw cheeks and a scowl, you slam the door in his face. 

Your feet are so heavy that the sidewalk sinks under you like quicksand. No matter how many steps you take, the comfort of your house seems out of reach. Too far gone. Confusion weighs on your shoulders. You should feel proud, empowered even, but that voice in the back of your mind smothers any sense of relief. 

Deep down, you know this isn’t going to be the last weekend you spend with Jungkook. 

© chryblossomjjk 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost]

[peachywritesstuff]

Charlie Walker relationship Headcannons

An: I'm obsessed with Rory. That is where my loyalties lie.

This has she/her pronouns in it btw(only once tho)

He is your Gomez Addams

"Look at her. I would die for her,I would kill for her."

That is him talking about you.

Dude will literally murder someone for you.

He is the type of person to just have the biggest crush on someone and not say anything for a VERY long time.

Won't catch him confessing his feelings for you. You would be the one to have to make the move.

I don't think this would he his first relationship but his first serious one.

Dude will only have eyes for you.

Would by shy at the beginning of your relationship and be cutely awkward with you.

Movie dates 100%

Loves just staring you

Likes to rant on about horror movies and will blush when he catches himself ranting.

Not to much pda for him. Holding hands, pecks,and kissing cheeks is all I see him doing in public.

In private however...

Man's is very affectionate.

Would be the first to say I love you.

Will have a nice lil makeout but he would be redder than a cherry afterwards.

I think we all know that he is inexperienced

But here me out... he would be natural at EVERYTHING.

Will go into cardiac arrest if he sees you naked.

Brain overload. He will not know what to do.

A part of him wants to look away like a gentleman but another part of him wants to just stare.

Likes when you play with his hair.

You would definitely NOT be killed and will make it known to Jill that if she puts one single scratch on you that he will kill her.

And Jill knows damn well to not hurt you unless she wants to face Charlie's wrath.

I mean Jill saw what he did to Olivia,that could easily be her if she didn't keep her word of keeping her hands off you.

I don't even think he would want Jill to give you any calls.

Like he wanted you completely out of it.

(Lets pretend Jill didn't kill him okay?)

He is definitely two faced and takes on a whole persona when he is under the Ghostface mask.

If he does so happen to come across you during his killings then he would let you get away without making it look like he is doing that if that makes sense.

He a lil crazy,but I think we all knew that by now. He is our little psychotic bby.

soft yandere vibes

He is a lil bit toxic (just a wee bit)

When it is revealed he is the killer you just broke down crying cuz you were angry and sad that the boy you loved so dearly was a murderer.

If you caught him in the middle of an act you would not want him to touch you. At all.

He could start crying when you backed away from him

He can't just kill you when you figure out his identity he fucking loves you

He'd let you go and not go after you.

(Sorry Jill lover's but let's pretend he got away with it and Jill got caught and died for fanfiction purposes)

Since he got away with it he woke up in the hospital with a stab wound close to his heart. Jill was revealed as the murderer.

You were still in shock and did not say anything. Partially out of fear.

You didn't talk to him for weeks. Hell probably even months after.

You knew you should turn him in but you didn't.

When you do talk to him again it's the same awkward Charlie you know who was still in love with you(are we surprised??)

It took a looooong time to trust him again.

You felt like you had been lied too.

After getting away with the murders Charlie was never going to kill again.

Keyword: Was.

When you began to get calls from the new Ghostface/s he just had to get out of retirement and handle the shit.

If there is 2,he could play it smart and might kill both of them. Or kill one and Injure the other.

You didn't have to know this. No one did.

Charlie learned that some things were better left unsaid.

And he be damned if he lost you again

I guess old habits die hard huh?

[thefiery-phoenix]

COMING HOME INJURED

You had some hero work to do and you had to take care of some villains. You got yourself injured pretty bad and you have no idea what's in store after you come home. Jump RIGHT in to see how your yanderes would react to you getting injured

Bakugou: Blood poured from your lip and dribbled down your chin and you felt like you had broken a dew ribs. You pushed open the front door, almost ready to faint inside when you suddenly heard an angry voice thundering at you from the kitchen

''Y/N, where the HELL have you been?'' yelled Bakugou angrily. You didn't bother answering him at first since you kind of felt dizzy and you had to sit on the sofa to regain a bit of your consciousness, but you thought that a little nap wouldn't hurt either 

Katsuki looked how badly you were beat up, body littered in bruises, blood gushing from different parts of your body as you struggled to keep your eyes open, you looked like you were dead on your feet

His teeth grinded as he struggled to caress your cheek as tenderly as possible. Hot, fiery rage lit up the pit of his stomach, almost travelling to his hands before he stopped himself from exploding just next to your face

He was beyond PISSED, he was LIVID and FURIOUS at YOU for getting into this mess at the man who thought he could live after doing such a thing. And angry at himself for never trusting his gut and locking you away for good to keep you safe and protect you 

"I'll kill whoever did this to you! I swear, even if it takes me my life'' 

Becomes REALLY clingy to you after this incident and soon kidnaps you (no surprises there)

Shoto: He could only watch horrified and looking shell shocked, like a fish out of water as you stumbled in with a black eye and limped with an almost fractured leg

Went INSANE with worry as soon as he saw you in this state

After five minutes of him checking every inch of your body for more damage, he finally leaves and returns with a cup of steaming something

He looks like Satan spawn as he asks you, ''Who. did . THIS!?'' 

''No worries, the pros have already arrested him'' you replied calmly slightly wincing at the pain

This precious bby makes sure to massage you and makes you feel comfy and safe. He tries to make your pain go away 

"Okay. Fine. I'll let it go. But please be more careful next time."

That night, he glares at the ceiling, unable to sleep thinking about that no good scumbag who hurt the love of his life (aka YOU)

With his amount of money and fame, he quickly made a small visit to the place where the villain was detained. He bribed the people there and threatened them not to say anything as he murdered the villain who hurt you and threw his remains over a bridge into a gushing river. When he finally returned home, you didn't even stir once as he showered off the scumbag's touch and returned to his place in your arms with dripping hair

 "Shh, go back to sleep, YN." And you did, ever so safe with Todoroki at your side Because with him, nobody would dare to hurt you again

Deku: The second you walk through the door, Deku's at your side, ushering you into the bathroom. With a washcloth, he wipes the dirt from your face and neck, stopping every few seconds to stare at the finger-shaped bruises on the skin

"I should have been there, YN." His teeth grit in frustration and his hands ball up into fists. "I should have kept you safe." 

Starts mumbling how useless he is and how its all his fault for not protecting you and what a failure of a hero he is (aww... poor baby)

You assure him that it isn't HIS fault and tell him everything will be all right. "You're wrong, YN. I should have been there. It's my responsibility to keep you safe."

After he finishes treating your wounds, he makes your favorite food and he cuddles you to sleep, slowly stroking your hair as he whispers praises in your ear for being so brave, but part of him inclined him to kidnap you so you won't have to get hurt like this ever again

Soon, like Todoroki, he quickly got rid of that villain who hurt you so badly and started making preparations of your new lives together as he watched you sleep in bliss, humming peacefully.....

[aphroditelovesu]

I was thinking of requesting small headcanons of what the marriage of baby reader and alicent's children would be like (separately), if you can't it's fine, honey

❝🐉 — lady l: you asked for it and here it is!! I hope you like it and forgive me any mistakes. In this au, Baby!Reader (aka bby!reader) is the child of Rhaenyra and Criston. Daeron was not mentioned for the following reasons: Rhaenyra would never let her bby marry Daeron, because he lives in Oldtown, however, if you want, I can make a separate hc of how bby!reader's marriage to Daeron would be. Enjoyy! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, unhealthy romantic relationships, slight mention of murder and jealousy.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!aegon ii targaryen x gn!reader, yandere!helaena targaryen x gn!reader and yandere!aemond targaryen x gn!reader

Aegon II Targaryen

Aegon will make a good husband for Baby!Reader, unbelievable as that is. He would be completely loyal to his darling, not only because he is in love with them, but he is deeply obsessed from a young age and now that he has them, Aegon will not let anything spoil their marriage. Nothing matters more to him than his sweetheart, and now that he finally has them, Aegon will do anything to make them happy and content by his side. It's you against the world.

Aegon is extremely clingy to his darling's affection and will become very sullen if he doesn't get the attention and affection he craves. He is completely emotionally dependent on Baby!Reader and doesn't even try to hide it. If anyone has all the influence and control over the Green King, it's you. Aegon will do anything for you, anything at all. You deserve the world and Aegon will give it to you. The only thing he wants in return it's your unconditional love.

Definitely a possessive and jealous husband, but not for less. Aegon has spent years pining for your love and he won't let anyone spoil that. You are his and his alone. He will make you and the others understand that they shouldn't try to steal you from him if they don't want to be fed to Sunfyre. Aegon gets jealous very easily and it's up to Baby!Reader to reassure him, to show him all the love Aegon is so desperate for. Definitely very jealous sex as he is absolutely crazy about you and jealous. It's not pretty to see him jealous and it always ends up in someone's death and an angry Aegon at Baby!Reader, though he will never hurt you or lift a finger at you.

Aegon is affectionate and kind to you, but a big pervert too. It's impossible to count how many times you and he have been caught in intimate moments because you can't control each other. He can be smooth as a beast in bed, it all depends on how you're feeling. Definitely very sticky and loves aftercare. He will lie on your chest and fall asleep right there, naked under you. You are everything to him.

How much this man loves Baby!Reader isn't said enough. Aegon will do everything in his power to make them happy, he's not the type to bring you flowers unless you ask him to, but Aegon has his own way of showing how much he loves you. You will be pampered immensely by him, he wants you to know that you deserve everything and he will do just that. Aegon only wants your happiness and he wants her reason, you should be happy with him and only him. You're the only person he listens to and says he's right, you have all the power and he couldn't be happier about it. Aegon is his and will always be yours alone.

''We could run away and leave all this behind. We can start over, just you and me.

Helaena Targaryen

Helaena is, without a doubt, the best wife anyone could imagine, although this is not shown. She is so kind and passionate about her sweetheart and is always thinking about them. She's so devoted to them that it's adorable and disturbing at the same time, Helaena loves everything about Baby!Reader and was ecstatic to find out that she was going to marry them, it's been her dream for as long as she's known herself in person. There is no doubting Helaena's loyalty to her darling and she will be very happy to have children with them, to have a family with Baby!Reader.

Helaena is not usually possessive of her darling's attention, she understands that she can't always be attached to her spouse, but she can't help but want that. Their presence is comforting and much appreciated by the princess and Helaena will make the most of you. She enjoys spending time with her bugs when Baby!Reader isn't around, but prefers to stay with them. She is understanding and so loving, it is very common to see her smiling from ear-to-ear when she is with her darling, when she is with the person she loves more than anything.

It's very rare for her to be jealous of someone, she knows her spouse loves her and has nothing to worry about, but she can't help but feel insecure when she sees them around people who could have married them. Helaena is shy and will keep quiet about it, but inside she will be seething with jealousy and wishing someone dead. She will be upset and hurt and it will take Baby!Reader to understand her insecurities in order to reassure her of their love, usually with gentle kisses and soft caresses, plus a few gifts that please her.

Helaena loves being gently and affectionately touched by her spouse, not always in a sexual context, lying in Baby!Reader's arms is heaven according to her and she will be more than satisfied with passionate hugs and kisses, which can take something else or not. She is very affectionate and soft when touching her darling, with hesitant and passionate touches, with some incense present in the room to make everything more romantic. Helaena prefers to take care of her spouse but doesn't mind being pampered and would love it if they did.

It's no secret how in love Helaena is about Baby!Reader, as she always has been and seems to follow him with her eyes everywhere, yearning for them all the time. Definitely the type to send them gifts, not always fancy jewelry but self-made gifts like embroidery and handmade stuff. She is extremely devoted and passionate about them and knowing that they feel the same way about her makes Helaena more than happy. She loves and is loved back so intensely that she feels she could die of happiness. You are everything to her and Helaena will do anything in her power to make you happy.

''Our love shall be eternal. And it will be.''

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond is the best husband Baby!Reader could ask for under the right circumstances. He always considered himself the best option for them and was pleased when others realized the same. He makes a great husband, is kind and protective of his sweetheart, and is deeply in love with them. Aemond worship the floor Baby!Reader walks and will do anything you ask, your one and only loyal protector for the rest of your married life. Although Aemond can be difficult to deal with at times, you are the only important person in his life and nothing and no one will take you away from him. You are his and he is yours.

Aemond isn't usually clingy and it's rare to see him demanding your attention, but that doesn't mean you can give it to other people. He will almost always be hanging around Baby!Reader and coldly staring anyone who gets too close, especially if they are people who are of the same family as him.

To say that Aemond is possessive is an understatement, no, this man is made of jealousy. He will be seething with jealousy of everyone who approaches his darling, who looks and even breathes in their direction. An jealous Aemond is extremely more violent and furious than normal, he will challenge anyone to a fight, telling Baby!Reader to note how he is worthy of them and no one else. He will be clingy in cases of extreme jealousy and will not leave his sweetheart's side, making it very clear who they belong to.

Aemond is delicate and kind to you, his soft touches and callused fingers will touch you however you like, the way you like. He can be as affectionate and gentle as he is strong and furious, it all depends on what you want and your mood. Aemond likes to be touched by you, whether it's sexual or not, he likes to be hugged or just holding your hand affectionately. It makes him feel safe, secure that his darling loves him just as much as he does love them. He'll never admit it, but Aemond can feel particularly needy and have self-esteem issues in his relationship with Baby!Reader, so every now and then he needs to be sure that his darling will never leave him.

A marriage to Aemond Targaryen may have challenges along the way, but he loves his darling and will do anything to make it work. He has and must make it work. Though he has his issues, Aemond proves to be a suitable and loving husband for Baby!Readr, always looking out for them and loving them the way it should be done. A lot of pampering is expected from him and he will be more than happy if his spouse does the same for him. Flights into Vhagar are included if you so desire. You are Aemond's life and he wants you to be happy with him, for him.

''You are my life and I will love you until my last breath.''

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Twenty-Four: Resolve

Chapter WC: 9,996

Chapter Warnings: angst but it's mild, and there's a happy ending!

A/N: hiiiii please don't hate me okay? ty

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Hyperspace, 21 BBY

You're pacing.

You can't help it.

You're too restless, too on edge, and the more you try to calm yourself, the worse it gets. Your thoughts keep returning to Dooku, to his offer, to his taunts, and it's making you anxious. Angry. Frustrated.

You shouldn't be here.

You should be out there, tracking him down, hunting him. Making him pay for everything he's done. But you let him get away. You watched his ship break the atmosphere and vanish into the void, all the while listening to Rex's assurances that he would be caught, that Dooku couldn't escape forever.

And while you knew he was right, you couldn't bring yourself to believe him.

The man had slipped through your fingers, and it was all your fault. You were too angry, too emotional, and you let him get the upper hand. You let him manipulate you, prey on the fears and doubts that have plagued you your entire life, and he used them against you. And the worst part was, a part of you understood why.

A part of you was afraid that he was right.

A part of you agreed with him.

And it was a terrifying thought.

Because if he was right, if the Jedi truly were corrupt, if the Republic was failing, if the war was hopeless...

Then, what were you fighting for?

What was the point?

You've been walking the halls of the Resolute for what feels like hours, trying to get your head straight, to make sense of everything that happened, but you can't. All you can think about is Dooku, about his words, about his offer, and how close you came to taking him up on it. How close you came to crossing the line, to becoming something you've sworn to never become.

A killer.

It's late.

Most of the troops have gone to sleep, and the corridors are empty, save for the occasional pair of boots or distant echo of voices. You've been avoiding the main hallways, preferring the solitude and quiet that the dim, cramped paths in the lower levels provide. It's easier this way, less chance of being seen or overheard, and right now, that's all you can ask for.

The new hyperdrive that had caused the explosion has been repaired, or as much as it could be given the circumstances, but the scars of the accident remain in the engine bay. Scorched metal, melted plasteel, and scattered parts are strewn across the floor. It's a mess, and despite the efforts of the technicians and mechanics, the area is far from clean or functional. The only saving grace is that a few of the engineers had managed to override the shutdown on the other two drives, and the ship is now limping its way toward Kamino, albeit at a much slower pace.

An equipment malfunction, they said. That's all it was. A mistake. A tragic accident. No one could have predicted it. No one could have stopped it. Nothing could be done. And yet, as you stand in the midst of the wreckage, a part of you knows that it wasn't an accident.

You can feel it.

It's a faint, distant sensation, but it's there. A tugging at the edges of your awareness, a whisper in the back of your mind, an echo from the Force. The same instinct that had helped you solve countless cases and catch dozens of criminals.

And right now, it's telling you that something isn't right.

Dooku sabotaged the drive.

How, you aren't sure, but you know it's true. You can feel it. A brand new, untested system, a complex mechanism with countless components and interconnections, a delicate, intricate piece of machinery. And it just happens to fail in a way that only scuttles the ship temporarily, bringing it out of orbit at precisely the same location where Dooku is waiting. It's too convenient. Too perfect.

Too calculated.

You lean against the wall, the weight of the realization pressing down on you, and you slide to the floor, your back resting against the cool metal, your eyes moving over the damage. The lights are off, and the only illumination comes from the glow of the emergency lights that line the floors and ceilings. They cast shadows across the room, creating a mosaic of shapes and angles, and for a moment, you lose yourself in them, letting your mind wander.

The image of Dooku's face, cold and cruel, flashes in your mind, and you close your eyes, trying to force it away. In less than a day, you'll be planet side on Kamino, meeting your new men and preparing to head out for your first mission. You should be focused on that. On the men who will be under your command, the soldiers who will depend on you to keep them safe, the men who will die if you make a mistake. But instead, all you can think about is Dooku, and the things he said.

You're not a Jedi.

The Council betrayed you.

You can't trust anyone.

Your hand moves up to the hilt of your lightsaber, the worn leather grip a familiar and comforting presence, and you pull it off, staring at the weapon. It's been with you for as long as you can remember, and in a way, it's a part of you. A piece of you. It's saved your life more times than you can count, and without it, you would have died years ago.

You've been a Jedi since before you can remember. You were chosen at birth, and by the time you could walk, your life had been laid out. Your earliest memory is of Obi-Wan, standing over you, smiling and laughing. The two of you were young, but even back them, he had already begun to shape your destiny, molding you into the Jedi he wanted you to be. The Jedi you thought you wanted to be.

But now, everything is different.

Now, you're a soldier. A general. A leader.

The Order may have betrayed you, but the Republic needs you.

And that means you can't afford to fail.

You take a deep breath and open your eyes, your gaze locking on the empty clip on your belt where your shoto used to sit. Without it, you feel incomplete, like a part of you has been taken away, but there's nothing you can do about it now. You're just going to have to learn to live with the loss.

Your thumb brushes against the ignition, and the blade snaps to life, the bright yellow glow illuminating the room. It's warm and soothing, and for a moment, you just stare at it, transfixed by the light. You move the hilt in a slow, lazy circle, watching the blade as it spins, and the soft hum fills the silence, echoing off the walls.

There's a noise, and your head turns, your gaze focusing on the figure in the doorway. You recognize him instantly, and though part of you is relieved to see Rex, another part of you wishes he hadn't found you.

Rex walks towards you, his movements slow and cautious, and the look on his face is one of concern and confusion. You know he's wondering why you're down here, why you're alone, and as much as you don't want to admit it, the truth is that you don't know the answer. You just couldn't bring yourself to go back to your room, not with everything that's been on your mind

"I couldn’t sleep,” you offer before he can ask. “I’m fine.”

Rex nods, and his gaze moves over the room, taking in the damage. He takes a deep breath and runs his hand over the back of his head, a gesture that you've come to realize is his way of collecting his thoughts, and he looks back at you, his expression pensive.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t lie to each other about how we’re doing anymore," he says, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

"I don’t remember agreeing to that," you reply with a shrug of your shoulder. He shakes his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"Well, maybe we should," Rex says. He closes the gap between you and leans against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes surveying the mess. "After the past few days, I think it's a good idea."

Your mind flashes back to the fight, the anger and pain coursing through your veins, and the rage that had nearly consumed you. If Rex hadn't pulled you away, hadn't stopped you from chasing after Dooku, you would've done something reckless. You would've killed him. And even though a part of you knew it was the right thing to do, a bigger part of you was scared. Scared that if you had taken the chance, if you had let go, you would've lost yourself.

"I need you to come home."

Rex's words from earlier echo in your mind, and you glance over at him, a pang of guilt twisting your stomach and causing a lump to form in your throat. He was right. You had almost abandoned him. You had almost walked away, left him behind, and never looked back. It was a selfish, reckless decision, and it would've destroyed both of you.

You deactivate your lightsaber and slip it into its sheath, the leather creaking softly. Your hands drop into your lap as you sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with you. Your shoulders slump, and you hang your head, a tired laugh escaping your lips.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Rex," you confess. "I feel like I'm just stumbling around in the dark, waiting for the next crisis to happen."

"Me too," Rex admits. He slides down the wall until he's sitting beside you, his shoulder pressed against yours, and he lets out a soft grunt as he stretches his legs, his knee popping.

"I thought I had a handle on everything," you tell him. "I thought I was in control. But every time Dooku is involved, it all goes to hell. It's like...I'm not strong enough."

"Strong enough?" Rex echoes, and he gives a snort of derision, his head tilting to the side. "You're the strongest person I've ever met."

"Really?" you scoff. "If that were true, I wouldn't have let him manipulate me. I wouldn't have..."

Your voice trails off, and Rex glances over at you, his eyebrows lifting in a questioning look. You avert your gaze, unable to meet his eyes, and he reaches over, his hand finding yours. He pulls your hand into his lap, his eyes fixed on the scars stretching across your palm, and the tips of his fingers brush against the raised flesh, his touch gentle and careful.

"You've been through a lot," Rex says, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper. "No one blames you for reacting the way you did. It was a stressful situation. We all make mistakes."

"Not like that," you mutter. You shake your head and close your eyes, a feeling of shame washing over you. "I almost lost control. If it weren't for you..."

Rex's fingers curl around your hand, and he gives it a squeeze, the warmth of his touch causing a tingle to run up your arm.

"Hey," he says, his voice firm. "You didn't. You kept your head. You came home."

"What if I had made a different choice?" you ask, and his grip on your hand tightens. "What if I had decided to go after him?"

"Then I would've followed you," Rex replies without hesitation. His voice is calm, confident, and the certainty in his tone is enough to make you look at him, your eyes widening. "I would've gone with you, no matter what."

His gaze locks onto yours, and the sincerity in his eyes is enough to take your breath away. You can feel the depth of his feelings for you, the strength of his emotions, and the knowledge that he cares so much for you makes your heart skip a beat. It also terrifies you, because as much as you care about him, there's a part of you that's afraid. Afraid of losing him. Afraid of failing him. Afraid of becoming too attached. And the thought of him dying because of your decisions, because of your mistakes, is enough to make your stomach churn

You look away, your eyes moving over the scorched durasteel panels, and a heavy sigh escapes your lips.

"You shouldn't have," you say. "I would've dragged you into a fight that you wouldn't have survived. I would've gotten you killed."

"Maybe," Rex admits. He rubs the back of his neck, a pained expression on his face. "Or, maybe, you wouldn't have. Either way, I would've been by your side. That's what I signed up for."

"That's not your job," you reply, and Rex frowns, his eyebrows knitting together.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s my choice," he tells you. The harsh, unyielding tone of his voice catches you off guard, and your head snaps up, your eyes widening.

"Rex—"

"We all know the risks," he says. "Every soldier in this army has accepted the fact that they might die. But if they had to make a choice between their life and yours, they would choose you. Every time. It's not because of who you are. It's because of who they are."

You're speechless, and as Rex continues, his voice grows softer, more tender.

"They believe in you. They trust you," he says. "And so do I. That's why I'll follow you. And if you ever try to leave me behind again, I'll be right there next to you. Whether you want me to or not."

You're not sure what to say. His words have caught you completely off-guard, and all you can do is sit there, staring at him, trying to process everything. He's wrong. He has to be. How could anyone trust you, let alone believe in you? But the look on his face, the conviction in his voice, the confidence in his words...it's overwhelming.

Your gaze drops to his hand, his fingers still curled around yours, and the sight makes your chest tighten. He's holding onto you. Refusing to let go. And while a part of you wants to pull away, to push him away, a bigger part of you wants to lean in, to let him hold you.

"You really believe that," you murmur, and he nods.

"Of course I do," he says. He gives a half-smile and his tone becomes playful, teasing. "Why wouldn't I?"

You look up at him, and his smile widens, the dimple in his cheek becoming more pronounced. It's an innocent, genuine expression, and it sends a warm, fluttery feeling coursing through your chest, spreading outward and wrapping around you, enveloping you in a feeling of safety and comfort.

For a moment, you just stare at him, unable to form a coherent thought, your brain too preoccupied with the fact that he's holding your hand. Your gaze drifts to his lips, and you can't help but think about how nice it would be to kiss him. To actually, properly kiss him. The idea sends a flush creeping up your neck, and you look away, swallowing hard.

"I...don't know," you admit.

"Look," he starts, and he releases your hand, raising his own in front of him, his fingers spread. "I'm a clone. I've been trained since the moment I was decanted. I know how to fight, how to lead men into battle, how to take orders. It's all been drilled into my head. But no one told me what to do if someone I cared about got hurt. Or how to deal with the guilt of not being able to protect them."

He shakes his head and chuckles, the sound bitter and humorless.

"I guess no one thought that would ever happen," he says, and his smile fades, his expression becoming somber. "But it did, and now, I have to deal with it. So I'm just gonna do the best I can. And if that means following you into a fight I can't win, so be it."

"It shouldn't have to be that way," you whisper. You draw your knees up to your chest, resting your forehead on top of them, your eyes closing. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"And I'm supposed to protect you," Rex replies, and he sighs softly and places his hand on your back, his touch light and tentative. His thumb brushes along the line of your spine, his palm pressing into the space between your shoulder blades. "That's what friends do."

"Is that what we are?" you ask. The question makes Rex stiffen, his fingers curling into the fabric of your tunic, and his grip tightens, a flicker of apprehension and unease flashing across his features. "Friends?"

Rex opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. He shifts his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"I...yes," he replies, his tone uncertain. "Of course. That's...that's what we are."

You lift your head, and your eyes find his, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You study his face, searching for any sign of deception, but all you see is a look of confusion and concern. A flicker of doubt dances across his features, and he looks away, his hand moving from your back to his thigh, his fingers drumming nervously on his leg.

"I didn't mean to make things weird," he says. "If you're not comfortable—"

"It's not that," you interrupt. You let out a soft, nervous laugh and shake your head, your eyes moving over his face. "It's just...we've never really talked about it. About us."

"Right," Rex mumbles, and he clears his throat, his gaze locked on his boots. "Well, we're friends. Good friends. So...yeah."

He trails off, his words fading, and a strained silence fills the air, the two of you sitting there, neither of you sure what to say. You know that the two of you have become close over the past few months, close enough that you can no longer just deny that there's something more than friendship between you, but you've never given voice to it. It's a delicate balance, and now, it's been upset.

You want to tell him. You want to admit that the feelings you've been fighting for months have become too strong to ignore, but you can't. You can't bring yourself to put the words out there, not with everything that's going on, not with the war raging, not with the danger looming. 

Anything could happen. Any moment could be your last. And as much as it hurts, as much as it feels like a betrayal, you can't risk losing him to this. You can't let the two of you get tangled up in something that neither of you can control. So, for now, it's best if the two of you keep things as they are. Simple. Easy.

Safe.

"You're right," you say. You give a small nod and offer him a reassuring smile, hoping that he won't notice the sadness in your voice. "Friends. We're friends."

"Good," Rex says, and he returns your smile, though the expression doesn't quite reach his eyes. "That's good."

"Yeah," you murmur.

Rex's hand twitches, and his fingers inch closer to yours, his knuckles brushing against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. He seems to realize what he's doing and moves away, his gaze flickering towards the door, his lips pressing together in a thin line.

"Maybe we should go back," he say. His words are strained, hesitant, and he pushes himself off the ground, standing up. "We should get some rest. Big day tomorrow."

He offers you his hand, and you look up at him, the uncertainty and unease on his face tugging at your heart. You take his hand and let him pull you to your feet, his grip firm and strong. As soon as you're standing, he releases your hand and steps back. For a moment, the two of you stand there, neither of you speaking. He shuffles his feet, and you fiddle with your belt, both of you avoiding each other's gaze.

"So," Rex starts slowly. He takes a step towards the door and pauses, his eyes moving over the ruined drive before focusing on you. "Do you think Dooku was involved?"

The sudden change of topic throws you, and it takes you a second to catch up. You consider his words, your eyes narrowing as you replay the events in your mind.

"Yeah," you admit. "He has to be. The odds of something like this happening by coincidence are..."

"Slim to none," Rex finishes.

"Exactly," you agree. "There's no way it was an accident."

"What do you think happened?"

You look over at him, and the corner of your mouth lifts into a wry smile.

“You’re going to think I’m paranoid,” you warn, and Rex scoffs.

"After what happened yesterday? Nothing would surprise me."

"Don’t say I didn’t warn you," you tell him, and you gesture for him to follow. You lead him through the damaged engine room, your eyes moving over the broken parts and burned circuitry. "This was no accident."

Rex stops next to you, his gaze scanning the damage, his expression pensive.

"Sabotage," he murmurs, and you nod.

"Here’s what we know,” you say, and you raise your hand, ticking off the points on your fingers. "A new hyperdrive is installed on the Resolute the same day the Council decides I'll be taking command of the 419th. That hyperdrive is untested, untried, and unreliable. And yet, somehow, it manages to work just fine until we hit the very coordinates where Dooku is waiting."

"And the explosion was just enough to damage the ship, but not enough to cause a total loss," Rex adds. "He could've killed everyone on board, and instead, he chooses to only blow up a single hyperdrive."

"Because he knew that it would bring us to him," you say. "He needed us here. He needed to speak with me."

Rex's eyes narrow, his gaze becoming sharp and focused. He's thinking, weighing the options, calculating the possibilities. It's what he does best. It's what he was made for. And as the pieces start to fall into place, his expression becomes serious.

"You think he was after you," he says, his tone flat, and you give a shrug of your shoulder.

"Maybe," you reply. "But I think there's more to it than that."

"Like what?"

You look down at the charred remnants of the drive, the metal still warm to the touch, and your hand clenches into a fist, a wave of anger surging through you. Dooku had manipulated you. He had taken advantage of your pain and used it against you, but it was the words he used that stuck with you. The exact right words to hit the exact right buttons.

You're not a Jedi.

The Council betrayed you.

You can't trust anyone.

Those were the things he said. Those were the words he spoke. And the more you thought about them, the more you realized that they were true. At least, from his perspective.

The Order had betrayed you.

The Council had lied to you.

But how had he known that? How had he known what you had been through, what you had seen and heard and felt? How had he known that the Council had refused to listen to you, that they had brushed off your concerns as paranoia, that they had dismissed your warnings as nothing more than the ramblings of a young, inexperienced Knight consumed by grief?

"This is the part where you're going to think I'm paranoid," you tell him, and Rex lets out a soft laugh, a look of amusement on his face.

"Go on," he urges. "I'm listening."

"He knew," you say. You cross your arms, your gaze moving over the charred circuitry, and you shake your head. "He knew about the Council dismissing the evidence I brought them. He knew about the way they treated me. He knew that they refused to believe me, that they wouldn't listen."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying he had help," you reply. Your gaze locks onto Rex, and he tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows raising. "Someone close to the Council. Someone with access to their records, their files, their communications."

"A spy," Rex breathes. He blinks, his mouth hanging open in shock. "But that's..."

"Impossible? Ridiculous?" you finish. You shake your head and give him a grim smile, a cold sense of resignation washing over you. "I know."

"I was going to say unlikely," Rex tells you. He sighs, and he turns away, his hands moving to his hips. He begins to pace, his footsteps echoing off the walls, the dim emergency lights casting shadows across his features. You watch him move back and forth, the gears turning in his head, and finally, he comes to a stop, his eyes moving to meet yours. "But not impossible."

"I thought you might say that," you murmur, and Rex gives a slow, reluctant nod.

"It's possible," he admits. "We've had spies in our ranks before. Hell, we had a damn good one."

He falls silent, his eyes dropping to the ground, his lips pressing into a thin line. You can see the pain in his expression, and you take a step towards him, your hand resting on his shoulder. Your touch seems to pull him from his thoughts, and his head tilts up, his gaze moving to your face.

"If this is true...if there's a traitor in the Order, we have to be careful," he warns. "The Council might not take this seriously. If you accuse them without proof—"

"They'll dismiss it," you say. Rex nods, and you take a deep breath, your shoulders straightening. "I know."

A tense silence hangs in the air, the two of you standing there, lost in your own thoughts. You know that what you're suggesting is unthinkable, but after everything that's happened, you can't ignore the possibility. Not anymore. And if you're right, if there is a spy, a traitor in the ranks, someone working with the enemy...it changes everything.

Rex is the first to speak. He clears his throat, his hands moving to his hips, and he takes a step towards the door.

"We should go," he says. "It's late. We should get some rest. You've got a lot of troops to meet tomorrow."

You nod, and the two of you head towards the door, leaving the ruined drive behind. You step out into the corridor, the low hum of the ship's engines fading the further you walk, until the only sound is the rhythmic thud of your boots on the metal floor. Neither of you says anything, and the silence is almost suffocating, the weight of everything you've discovered weighing heavily on both of your minds.

The halls are empty, and the quiet is eerie without anyone around. It reminds you of the Temple, and as you walk, the image of the Jedi Order's seat of power flashes through your mind. You picture the massive stone hallways, the high ceilings and vaulted arches, the rows of statues and tapestries lining the walls. You think about the countless corridors and chambers, the rooms filled with books and scrolls, the thousands of years of history and knowledge preserved within the ancient walls. 

And for a brief moment, you wonder if the Order has changed. If the place you once called home has become something else, something darker, more secretive, more dangerous. A place where the truth is buried, where dissent is punished, where the only way to survive is to play the game, to stay silent, to obey.

You push the thought aside, and you turn a corner, the two of you heading towards the turbolifts that will take you to the residential deck. You can feel Rex's eyes on you, and when you glance over at him, you see he's looking at your belt, his brows furrowed.

"What happened to your other saber?" he asks, and the question catches you off-guard. You reach for the weapon on instinct and come up short, brushing against the empty clip instead. The feeling of loss is immediate and sharp, and you force yourself to ignore it, shoving the emotion aside.

"Dooku destroyed it," you tell him. You raise your hand, gesturing vaguely with your fingers, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "Cut it right in half. Took me completely by surprise."

Rex stops dead in his tracks, and his eyes widen, a look of shock on his face.

"He did what?" he breathes, and you offer a shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal. But even as you do, you know it's not true. 

Losing your shoto hurts. More than you'd care to admit. You once risked your life to retrieve the crystal during your Gathering, and it had served you well in return. It had even served Obi-Wan once on Geonosis. It was a part of you. A piece of you. And now, it's gone.

"It was a lucky shot," you say, trying to brush it off. "I'm sure I'll get a new one eventually."

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asks, his voice laced with concern, and you wave him off, forcing a smile.

"I'm fine," you assure him, and you flex your fingers of your left hand, testing the range of motion. The bacta patch Kix had insisted on applying earlier was already starting to work, and the pain was little more than a dull ache. "I heal fast."

"Yeah," he mutters, his gaze moving over the scars on your hands, his eyes lingering on the ones covering your right palm. "I've noticed."

You follow his gaze, and the sight of the raised flesh causes a flicker of discomfort, a hint of a memory, the echo of an old pain. You clench your fist, your knuckles whitening, and Rex's eyes snap up, his attention moving to your face.

"Do they...?"

"Still hurt sometimes," you admit, and Rex winces, his expression pained.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "That must've been horrible."

You swallow hard, and your fingers twitch, an old, familiar tingle shooting up your arm. You're reminded of the agony, the smell of smoke, and the suddenness of the memory causes your heart to skip a beat. You shake the images away, pushing the memories aside, and the tightness in your chest fades.

"It's not like it's your fault," you say. You try to force a smile, but the muscles in your face feel stiff, and the corner of your mouth refuses to move. "I've lived with them for years. They don't bother me anymore."

Rex looks unconvinced, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he turns away, and the two of you continue walking, the silence settling over the hallway. It's heavy and uncomfortable, and as the moments pass, the distance between you grows. Rex's arms are crossed, his shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched, and as much as you want to say something, you can't think of anything. There's so much you need to tell him, so much you want to share, but the words won't come. You're trapped in your own thoughts, and the harder you try to push them away, the more they persist.

"Can I ask you something?" Rex says, and you nod. "What did Dooku want? What did he tell you?"

The question makes you tense, a sense of unease settling in your stomach. You hadn't mentioned Dooku's offer to anyone, not even Anakin, and the truth is, you're not sure how to answer him. You're not sure if you should. But the concern and curiosity on his face are hard to ignore, and you know that he won't stop until he gets an answer.

"He offered to train me," you mutter, and the words are like acid on your tongue, burning their way out of your mouth. You keep your eyes focused straight ahead, refusing to look at him, and the second the words leave your lips, a wave of regret and shame washes over you.

Rex's footsteps come to a stop, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. You keep walking, unwilling to turn around, and after a moment, he starts moving again, the thud of his boots echoing off the walls.

His anger is unmistakable.

It's like a physical thing, an energy that surrounds him, pulsing in the Force. It's intense and raw, and you can practically taste it. But there's also a hint of something else, a deeper emotion, a more powerful feeling. And as the two of you walk down the corridor, the distance between you becoming more and more pronounced, it becomes increasingly more difficult to ignore.

You reach the turbolift and press the button, the doors sliding open, and you step inside, pressing the button for the officer's deck. The doors slide shut, and the lift begins to move, the whirring of the mechanism filling the air.

Rex stands beside you, his eyes fixed on the floor, his jaw clenched hard enough to make his cheek twitch. He's furious. You can tell. And the fact that he's not yelling or berating you is actually worse.

"You told him no," he states, his tone flat, his eyes still focused on the floor. It's a statement, not a question, and you take a deep breath, steadying yourself.

"I told him no," you confirm.

"And the Council?"

"I haven't spoken to them yet." You shift your weight, and glance at the numbers above the door, watching as they rise. "I'm sure they'll have some thoughts on the matter. They always do."

"So he was just playing games, huh?" Rex's words are like venom, dripping with hatred and contempt. "Trying to manipulate you. Using your anger against you."

"Something like that," you murmur. His head turns towards you, and his gaze locks onto yours, his eyes dark and serious.

"Did it work?"

"I said no," you remind him, and his eyes narrow, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asks, and the question causes your throat to tighten, the truth sticking in your throat. "What exactly did he say to you?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the words die in your throat, the truth refusing to come out. You don't want to admit it. Not to him. Not to yourself.

The turbolift stops, and the doors slide open, revealing the darkened hall outside. You step out, your feet moving on instinct, your legs carrying you towards your quarters. Rex follows, his footsteps echoing behind you, his gaze boring into the back of your head.

"I'm not going to judge you," he tells you, and his words make your stomach twist, a sinking feeling taking root in your gut. "Whatever it is, whatever happened, I'm on your side."

"I know," you mutter. You stop at the door to your quarters, your hand hovering over the keypad, and you close your eyes, a wave of fatigue washing over you. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

You hesitate, and the knot in your stomach tightens, your fingers curling into a fist. You're ashamed. Ashamed that you almost gave in, that you almost considered his offer, and that it still weighs on your mind. That the doubts Dooku planted in your head haven't vanished. They're still there, lingering, like a shadow.

"He made a good point," you whisper, the words barely audible, and the moment they leave your lips, you know you've made a mistake.

The silence is deafening.

A shiver runs down your spine, and your hand moves away from the keypad, falling to your side. You don't turn around, but you can feel Rex's eyes on you, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you.

"About?"

"About the Order," you admit. Your eyes close, and your head hangs, the shame burning hot in your cheeks. "About the Council. About everything."

The silence stretches on, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. Finally, Rex lets out a long, slow breath, the sound of his exhale making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Did you...did you consider his offer?" he asks.

"For a second," you tell him. "But I..."

Your voice trails off, the rest of the sentence lost. But I didn't mean it. But I changed my mind. But I chose not to go. But I made the right choice. 

But none of that matters. Not really.

Because the fact is, you had been tempted. For a brief moment, a fraction of a second, a sliver of a heartbeat, you had actually considered Dooku's offer. You had thought about what it would mean, about the freedom, the power, the control. And if not for the fact that he was a monster, a murderer, you might have taken him up on it.

And that, more than anything else, scares the hell out of you.

You take a deep breath, and the words spill out, your voice barely a whisper.

"I thought he might be right," you confess. You turn around, and the look on Rex's face nearly breaks your heart. The pain in his eyes, the anguish on his face, the hurt etched into his features...it's more than you can bear. "He told me I couldn't trust the Council. He told me the Jedi were corrupt. He said..."

You trail off, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. You swallow, and take another deep breath, the tears in your eyes threatening to spill over.

"He said that the Order betrayed me," you whisper. "That they had abandoned me. That they didn't care about me. And I...I believed him."

You wipe at your eyes, the tears running down your cheeks, and Rex steps forward, his hands coming up to cup your face. His thumbs brush against your skin, wiping away the tears, and he shakes his head, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"Hey," he says, his voice soft, soothing. "That's not true. You know that, right?"

"I thought I did," you admit, and his grip on your face tightens, his gaze locking onto yours.

"Look, I don't know much about the Force, or the Jedi, or any of that," he tells you. "But I know this. The Order, the Council, the whole damn thing, it's not perfect. It's got its flaws. It's not some unbreakable, infallible machine. It's a bunch of people, making decisions, doing the best they can. Just like the rest of us. And at the end of the day, they're trying to help. They're trying to do the right thing, and that's what matters."

You sniff, and Rex's hands fall away, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You rest your head against his chest, and his arms tighten, the warmth of his body enveloping you. You close your eyes, the tears streaming down your cheeks, the guilt and shame weighing heavily on your heart.

"They didn't betray you," Rex whispers, and the words are like a balm on your soul, the truth washing over you, soothing the ache in your chest. "You were right. The Council should've listened. They should've supported you. And I'm sorry."

You take a shaky breath, and Rex's hands move up, his fingers running through your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring.

"You didn't deserve what happened," he continues. "You deserved better. But the thing is, they weren't wrong. Not entirely."

You stiffen and pull back, a look of shock on your face. Rex gives a soft chuckle and brushes the hair out of your eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"You're reckless," he says, his voice low and affectionate. "And stubborn. And impulsive. And impatient. And sometimes, you can be a little...overwhelming."

"Are you trying to cheer me up?" you ask incredulously. "Because this is the worst pep talk I've ever heard."

Rex laughs, and his arms tighten, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"My point is, the Council was right to worry," he tells you. "And they were right to be concerned. You have a lot of potential. But if you're not careful, all that power, all that talent, all that drive, it'll get the better of you. It'll burn you up. And that's not what we need. That's not what the galaxy needs."

"I know," you mumble. "But I just wish...I just wish they would've listened. I just wish they had believed me. I wish I could've made them understand."

"I know," Rex whispers. "And I'm sorry. But there's nothing you can do about it. It's in the past. It's over. It's done. All you can do now is move forward."

You lean into his touch, and he pulls you closer, his hand cupping the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. His lips press against the top of your head, and his hold on you tightens, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you.

"I know this is hard," he says. "But you have to trust them. You have to believe in them. Otherwise, you'll never be able to move past this."

"I'm trying," you murmur.

"Try harder," he replies, and you snort.

"Gee, thanks," you grumble, and Rex chuckles, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the back of your neck.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says. He leans back, his gaze meeting yours, his expression serious. "What I meant was, if you can't trust the Council, at least trust the men. Trust me. And trust you’re doing the right thing."

The look in his eyes is intense, the sincerity and determination in his tone causing a fluttery feeling in your chest. You swallow, and give a slight nod, a sense of calm settling over you.

"I can do that," you tell him, and his eyes widen, his brows lifting in surprise.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you agree. A grin spreads across his face, his eyes lighting up, his relief and joy apparent. You place your hand on his chest, the feeling of his armor, solid and strong beneath your palm, making the knot in your stomach loosen. "I think I can do that."

"Good," he says. "I'm proud of you."

His praise catches you off guard, and your eyebrows lift, your mouth falling open in shock.

"You're what?"

"Proud," he repeats. His hand moves from the back of your head to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "I'm proud of you. You've come a long way. You've accomplished a lot. And I know this war has been difficult. But I'm proud of how you've handled it."

The sudden rush of emotion makes your throat tighten, and you sniff, the tears starting to form again. Rex notices, and his hand drops, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you against him.

"I'm proud of you too," you murmur weakly, your voice muffled by his chest. You feel him stiffen against you, his arms tightening, before he relaxes, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"Thanks," he says, his tone sheepish. You let out a quiet laugh and shake your head.

"No," you tell him, and you push away, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I'm serious. You've been incredible. Everything you've done for the 501st, for the Republic, for me. You're a good man, Rex. One of the best I've ever known."

"Well," he replies, his gaze flickering away, a faint hint of color creeping into his cheeks. "I, uh, I'm glad you think so."

“I do,” you assure him.

A silence settles between the two of you, but it’s not the same uncomfortable, tense silence as before. This is different. This is warm and safe and comforting. It makes you feel at ease, and as the moments pass, the anxiety and fear fades, leaving behind a feeling of calm and acceptance.

The war has changed you. The war has changed everything.

But here, in this moment, standing with Rex, his arms wrapped around you, his gaze locked on yours, it feels like none of that matters. The war, the politics, the death and destruction, it's all just a distant memory, a faint echo, a fading nightmare. In this moment, all that exists is the two of you, and the connection you share, the bond that has grown between you.

Your eyes find his, and he smiles, a soft, sweet smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It's a gentle, tender smile, and it makes your heart skip a beat, the fluttery feeling in your chest intensifying. You can't help but smile back, the joy and relief surging through you, filling you up, until it's almost too much.

"I'm going to miss this," he murmurs, and you tilt your head to the side, confusion clouding your features.

"Miss what?"

"This," he replies, and he gestures towards the door, a sad, wistful expression on his face. "Having you here, on the ship. Having you close."

You hesitate, unsure of how to respond, and Rex sighs, a pained look on his face.

"I know it's selfish," he says. "And I know it's not fair, but..."

His words trail off, and you can see the conflict in his eyes, the internal battle raging within him. He wants to say more, but he can't bring himself to, and the frustration is clearly eating away at him.

"It's not selfish," you tell him. "Or unfair."

Rex looks at you, and you give him a soft smile, a knowing look in your eyes.

"I'm going to miss you too," you confess. "It's going to be weird, not having you around."

"Yeah," he mutters. "It will."

"But hey," you say. "It's not like this is goodbye. We can still comm each other. And we'll probably get assigned to missions together every once in a while. Right?"

Rex lets out a dry chuckle, and he gives a slight shake of his head, his expression somber.

"Right," he says. "Missions."

He falls silent, and the two of you stand there, neither of you saying a word. There's so much left unsaid, so much that needs to be said, but you can't find the words. And you’re not sure if any of them would make a difference anyway.

Finally, Rex breaks the silence.

"Come on," he says, and he takes a step back, his hand reaching for the keypad. "It's late. You should get some rest."

He enters the access code, and the door slides open. The room beyond is bathed in darkness, the automatic blinds pulled down over the viewport, but you can still see the outline of Yaddle’s lightsaber on your desk, the two empty wine glasses near the sofa. The memory of last night comes rushing back, and a wave of heat rises in your cheeks.

Rex walks past you, and he pauses, his eyes moving over the mess in the room.

"You want me to help clean this up?"

"No," you tell him. "I've got it. It's not a big deal."

"You sure?" he asks, his eyes narrowing, a concerned look on his face. "It looks pretty bad."

You glance around the room, taking in the chaos, the clutter, the general state of disarray. The sudden drop out of hyperspace had thrown everything off balance, and the result was a scene worthy of a hangover. You had been meaning to tidy things up, but the last couple days had been a whirlwind of activity, and you hadn't had a chance.

You nod, and Rex's shoulders drop.

"Alright," he says. "If you're sure."

"I am," you assure him. You lift your hand, and the remnants of the wine bottle shudder and lift, drifting toward the trash chute.

Rex's eyebrows lift, a look of admiration on his face.

"Neat trick," he mutters, watching as the shards of glass disappear down the chute.

"You should see the others," you tease as you move toward the bed. "There's a lot more party tricks up my sleeve. Maybe I'll show you sometime."

 Rex chuckles, and his gaze follows you as you sit down on the edge of the mattress. The sheets are twisted and wrinkled, and you lean forward, your hands resting on your knees, a wave of exhaustion washing over you.

"Get some sleep," he tells you, his tone soft and gentle. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

"Right," you murmur before a yawn escapes your lips. You rub your eyes, and when you open them, Rex is kneeling in front of you.

His eyes are level with yours, and he's watching you closely, a thoughtful look on his face. For a brief moment, you allow yourself to get lost in those eyes, the rich, warm brown color, the flecks of gold around the iris. They're beautiful. He's beautiful. And in that instant, a feeling of regret passes through you, the reality settling in.

"Do you think I should tell the Council about Dooku's offer?" you ask him. "About the spy?"

Rex shakes his head, and the corners of his mouth lift into a small, rueful smile.

"No," he says. "They wouldn't believe you."

"I don't want to keep secrets from them," you insist. "Especially about something this important."

Rex sighs, and his eyes flutter closed, his hands clasped together, his thumbs pressing against his forehead.

"They're not going to listen," he says. His eyes open, and they lock onto yours, his gaze steady and sure. "You said it yourself. They already think you're unstable, irrational. If you go to them now and start making accusations, they'll dismiss you. Or worse."

"Worse?"

He doesn’t reply, but the grim expression on his face is answer enough. A wave of dread washes over you, a sick feeling twisting in your stomach. He's right. You know he's right. They wouldn't believe you. They would dismiss it. Especially if you tell them about the offer Dooku made.

You take a deep breath and push the thought away, forcing the doubts and fears aside. Rex is right. You can't risk it. Not yet.

"What do I do?"

Rex’s hands move to the buckle on your boot, his fingers working the latch free. You bend down to help him, but he gently pushes your hands away, his focus solely on the task at hand.

"For now, nothing," he says.

Your boot slides off, and he sets it aside, moving onto the next one.

"You have a whole brigade counting on you now. You need to focus on them. On getting them ready for the fight ahead."

The second boot slides off, and you let out a sigh of relief, wiggling your toes. Rex sets the boots aside and stands, his gaze moving over the rest of your armor. You don’t wear much when you're not on a mission. Just the essentials. The ones you can easily remove on your own. But that doesn’t stop Rex from looking for a way to help.

"You have a responsibility to them," he continues. He holds out his hand, and after a brief moment of hesitation, you relent, letting him take your arm. His fingers work quickly at your vambrace, undoing the straps, and the piece of armor falls to the ground with a loud clang. "Your only concern right now should be doing everything you can to prepare them for what's coming. And that means giving them a reason to trust you. To believe in you."

He moves to the other vambrace, and you tilt your head to the side, his words sinking in.

You had been so consumed by your own pain, your own anger, your own desire for revenge, that you had failed to see the bigger picture. The thousands of lives that depended on you, the soldiers you were supposed to lead, the civilians you were supposed to protect, the galaxy you were supposed to defend.

You had forgotten your purpose.

And if not for Rex, you might have kept going down that path. A path that could have led to ruin.

The second vambrace comes off, and he sets it aside, his eyes meeting yours.

“And that means putting the past behind you," he says. His tone is gentle, but firm, and you know he's right.

"I know," you mumble, the words coming out as an half-whine, and his lips twitch. “But I can’t just let Dooku's threat hang over my head.”

"Who said anything about letting it go?" he replies, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just because you're a General now doesn't mean you have to stop doing what you're best at."

“Chasing ghosts and rumors? Spreading paranoia? Being an unrelenting pain in the ass?” you joke. “You might have a point there."

"That's the spirit," he chuckles, and the smile on his face spreads, a twinkle in his eyes. You can't help but smile back, warmth spreading through your chest, the feeling of hope taking root in your heart.

It's strange, being with him like this. It feels different. As if a new layer of trust has been added to the relationship. A new understanding. And while you know there's still a long way to go, a lot of questions left unanswered, a lot of things left unsaid, it's a start. And, right now, a start is all you need.

A soft yawn escapes your lips, and Rex gives a sympathetic chuckle, his hands moving to his hips.

"Get some sleep," he tells you. "You've had a long day. A long week. You deserve a break."

You let out a tired groan and slump backward onto the bed, your arms splayed out.

"Don't remind me," you mutter.

“And no more midnight walks, alright?"

"Alright," you agree, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"You're gonna scare your men, prowling the halls in the middle of the night," he says, his tone playful, and you roll your eyes. "Especially if they see the look on your face. You look like a cornered nexu."

You sit up and give a soft laugh, the comment catching you off guard.

"Is that so?"

"I've seen nexu before," he assures you, and you can't help but grin. "And trust me, that's the same look."

You lean forward and cross your legs, unclipping your belt and tossing it onto the floor. Rex’s eyes follow it, a faint blush coloring his cheeks, and you bite your cheek to keep from smirking. You’d almost forgotten how cute he could be. How innocent and shy. How much fun it was to fluster him.

"I'll take that as a compliment," you tell him, resting your elbows on your knees, your chin propped up on your palm. The comment seems to snap him out of his stupor, and his gaze snaps back to yours.

"You would,” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm in his tone, and you snort.

You're both quiet for a moment, the two of you simply watching each other until Rex finally turns away, his gaze moving to the door, his arms crossing over his chest. He takes a deep breath, and the momentary ease between the two of you vanishes, leaving behind a tense, uncertain silence.

"There are things I want to say to you, but now's not the time," he says, a solemn, somber look on his face. Rex runs a hand over his head, his shoulders sagging. "I don't want to make things harder than they already are."

"They're already hard," you mutter. "Believe me."

His expression softens, and a rueful smile plays on his lips, his eyes shining in the dim light.

"Yeah, they are," he sighs. "So let's make it easy. At least for tonight."

The air is thick with unspoken words, and for a brief moment, you wonder if Rex can feel the connection too. If he can sense the shift in the Force, the change in the atmosphere, the subtle energy that's swirling around the two of you. It's a fleeting thought, and you shove it away, pushing it into the dark corners of your mind, burying it deep. 

He’s right. Now's not the time. Not for this.

But soon.

Hopefully.

"Well," you say, and his gaze meets yours, his eyes locking onto yours. "Thank you. For everything. You didn't have to come find me, and I appreciate it."

"Of course," he replies, a gentle smile on his lips. "What are friends for?"

The word "friend" causes your chest to tighten, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach.

Friends.

The two of you had been dancing around the issue for months, neither of you willing to acknowledge what was happening between you. Now, in the heat of the moment, the word seemed so trivial, so meaningless, so inadequate. It was like trying to capture a shooting star with your bare hands. Impossible. And frustrating as hell.

But the alternative, the word you really want to say, the truth you both know but refuse to acknowledge, is far too dangerous. Too risky. And if there's one thing you've learned, it's that sometimes the truth is better left unsaid.

So instead, you smile. And despite the sadness,  the regret, the disappointment, it’s a genuine one. Because as complicated as the situation is, and as painful as it is, there is a certain comfort in knowing that no matter what happens, no matter what choices are made, no matter what lies or half-truths are told, you will always be his friend. And that, in itself, is worth holding onto.

You climb off the bed and step forward, wrapping your arms around him. Rex's hands settle on your lower back, and he pulls you closer, his fingers resting lightly against the fabric of your shirt. The two of you hold each other, a quiet understanding passing between the two of you, and after a moment, he lets go.

"Goodnight," he murmurs, his eyes lingering on your face.

"Goodnight," you echo, and he turns towards the door, his footsteps echoing in the darkened room.

As you watch him leave, a strange sense of peace washes over you. A calmness you haven't felt in a long time. And as the door closes and you're left alone in the silence, the darkness pressing in, the realization hits you.

It's over.

You've made your choice. You've taken the first step. And now, it's time to move on.

You turn back to the bed and strip off the rest of your clothes, a sense of purpose settling over you. You have a duty to your men. A duty to the Republic. And most importantly, a duty to yourself. You've spent the last decade of your life living in the past, chasing ghosts, fighting demons. Now, it's time to let it go.

Your eyes land on Yaddle’s lightsaber and the familiar pang of loss shoots through you, but it's quickly replaced by a sense of acceptance. Your past has shaped you, molded you, turned you into the person you are today. But it doesn't define you. And it's time to stop letting it.

You climb into bed, and the moment your head hits the pillow, a wave of exhaustion washes over you, the stress and fatigue pulling at your mind, tugging at your eyelids. You let them close, the darkness enveloping you, and you fall asleep, a feeling of contentment spreading through you.

The war is still raging, the battle lines are still drawn, and the fight has only just begun. But for the first time since this mess began, you have a direction. A purpose. A reason to keep going.

And that, more than anything else, gives you hope.

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