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taegularities · 7 months ago

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candles & flames: air | jjk (m)

bonus chapter I: air

Summary: Voices over the grapevine murmur that somebody has been yearning for you who certainly shouldn't. Jungkook is agitated to the core – reacts immediately until something far sweeter overshadows the envy and turns his and your life upside down.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: established relationship, royal!au; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: so much okay let's see; jk is jealousss, mention of a dead parent, daddy issues, pregnancy, birth (no details), kissing, insecurities that are resolved, worries and tears, somebody faints :'), 19th century culture/beliefs/society, short mention of the struggles after birth, a guest appearance!, and a cute baby 💕 jk loves the kiddo so much that his affection makes him cry; explicit sexual content: making out, muchhh teasing, fondling, biting, he loveees her tiddies, oral (f. receiving), he touches himself/masturbation, manhandling, soft dom!koo, big dick!koo, he threatens to tie her up lol, "fck me like you hate me", both hard and soft s/x moments, love spanks, delaying of orgasm, hair pulling, he's roughhhh, fingering, multiple orgasms; pls spot the lil references to the other parts hehe 😁 ➳ wc: 24.4k yay! ➳ a/n: hi hi hiiii. it's been literal months, but we're here again and sharing another piece of our soul. hope y'all like this one, whether you've just arrived here or been here for a while. love you all and as always, let me know what you think!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: this is a bonus chapter for my mini-series candles & flames. reading the rest of the story helps!! find the mpost below <3

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

The quiet hysteria starts with a whisper.

It echoes off the walls that Friday afternoon, seemingly insignificant at first. Most of the whispers are — a cacophony of hisses and sharp tones and hushed nodding.

Uttered between members of the staff, Jungkook catches the conversation coincidentally. He never means to eavesdrop, but these accidental occurrences have revealed one or two things to him before.

Like, what they ate for dinner last night. Or how their sons had learned to read. Jungkook would laugh at stories about neighbours, pout at tragedies of lost family members. But what he hears today is worth neither of those reactions; just mild yet growing confusion.

He wouldn’t have registered a word if he’d left his office a minute later. Wouldn’t have known if he’d opted for his meal thirty seconds earlier.

No. He had to step out now. Cross paths with the staff in this very moment as if it was supposed to happen, coming to a stand in the hallway, mind instantly whirling and eyebrows furrowed.

The two women, startled by the sudden appearance, freeze at their spot a couple feet from Jungkook’s body. They stare at him as though met with a ghost, eyes trailing from his uncurling fist to the Lord’s unmatchable face — puzzled at the moment.

Abandoning curiosity and the hint of amusement, sudden respect spreads over their countenances, and once they have made sense of the situation, they straighten their backs. Bow a little. One of them a little deeper than the other.

Their eyes are as wide as his; the scene couldn’t be more comedic in the afternoon sun shining through the wide window. Three baffled figures fighting the awkwardness; growing by the second until one of them murmurs, “Lord Jeon.”

Her tone is timid, as if she fears he might’ve heard — which he did, alright. But they don’t dare make an attempt at asking about it, perhaps finally realising that things like these aren’t really their business.

So they only nod again, waiting for the man to react in kind, and then rush past him and down the hall. Jungkook isn’t stupid, though — he knows they won’t stop talking.

And he could confront them. Call them back and demand an explanation, lay out every word he just heard and analyse it with what they know. But he doesn’t. He lets them approach the end of the hallway, turning left at the end of it just a few seconds later.

His body’s balanced weight shifts to his left leg, and he puts both his hands on his hips, curling his lower lip inward and tracing it with his tongue. He knows better than to believe rumours mumbled in the gardens or halls of this place.

Maybe it’d be foolish to overthink just yet. Guess he’ll need to ask you yourself.

But he can’t help but replay the conversation in his mind, gaze wandering out of the window and to the blue sky above. He soaks in the summer, lowers his eyebrows, appetite forgotten as he simply voices—

“Huh.”

Existing in this world with you as the love of his life isn’t easy.

There’s magic to how you move. To the way you slip under the blanket with that enchanting smile. To how you reach for the back of your head, undoing the bow.

For a moment, he can’t keep his eyes from the locks that fall over your shoulder; how you sigh in relief as your scalp finally breathes. And when you lean against the bed frame, pulling your legs up and knees close to you, book in hand, you look endlessly cosy.

Warm and inviting, soft hands holding the novel. Your side profile is tender, lips always a perfect curve. Your mouth moves with the words you read, and you smile whenever a description delights you.

You always live in a dream. You are one, too.

Loving you isn’t easy because you’re a constant source of healthy insanity. Of the burning in his chest, the odd feeling in his stomach, and the yearning in his fingers.

But especially tonight, you evoke something he only ever experiences with you. He did it when he saw you dancing with somebody else two years ago. And feels a sliver of it whenever he catches men staring at you at gatherings.

The emotion boils green inside of him, and somehow, you’ve managed to elicit it more than once. He could swear he never knew of it before he met you. You’re truly a spell; only right now, he wishes he felt something else.

You shut the book suddenly, keeping a finger where you stopped, and look up into his eyes without a warning. He flinches just a little, as if awakening from a dream, and you laugh.

“Will you speak what’s on your mind or just keep staring?” you ask; the tilt of your head is sickeningly sweet.

He improvises — nods towards the novel and wonders, “What is it about?”

“Oh,” you look down, holding it up, “secret affairs. Princess to be betrothed is in love with someone else.”

The situation lacks so much humour that he can’t help but find it funny. He suppresses the sarcastic smirk and the shake of his head, keeping the facade upright as he admits, “That is very brave of the author to thematise.”

Your eyes narrow a little, drenched in confusion. “Well, I mean. A lot of them are. But it’s just words on pages. How many secret affairs do you think happen in actual life?”

More than you’d know. Jungkook has seen enough to understand that lovers often reunite in shadows; or that they betray loved ones when the world goes quiet.

You believe in people, though. You romanticise the world. Assume that cruelty is rare, and that most human beings strive for loyalty and flawlessness.

But he doesn’t say any of it; only shifts closer to your optimistic, angelic warmth, craving your scent. He says, “We were the opposite, weren’t we? Made everyone think we were in love when we still despised each other.”

You cock an eyebrow; he instantly regrets his words, realising how harsh they truly sounded. You might be gentle, but you can be just as fierce, too — so he prepares for some scolding, lips parted.

But you only puff out a breath, freeing the finger trapped between the pages, and put the book aside. Then, you say, “I still despise you.”

Jungkook stares, pausing for a moment, and you let him ogle for another second before you laugh. You grab the still hand on his thigh, lifting it to your lips and press the feather lightest of kisses against its back.

You keep the palm against your cheek, inquiring carefully, “Is something troubling you?”

“No,” he immediately shoots, “no. I just wanted to ask about your novel.”

“Just about the novel?”

“Mhm. Yes.”

“Hmm. Well, yes, that one,” you grace it another glance, “it’s good. A typical story about a royal princess mingling with the stable boy and rejecting the prince.”

Jungkook nods, but you think his pupils widen. Is he imagining a scenario of his own? Not enjoying the storyline? Perhaps.

Because he states, “Disloyalty is quite something. I would,” he pauses, blowing a raspberry, “die if I was the prince.”

He emphasises die with all his tongue’s strength; you huff at the dramatics of the moment, puzzled by the sudden shift in mood. In truth, this is not such an unusual behaviour.

Because more often than not, Jungkook displays interest in your little hobbies. Novels render you sentimental, and you’ve pulled him into the whirling storm of emotions that those stories made you feel before.

Like,

“They won’t accept him because he’s an artist?”

“So he decides to leave instead of fighting for her?”

“Alright, tell me about the first time he tells her he loves her.”

He’ll lean forward, turn to his side, eyes wide, indulging in the narrative. Mirroring your emotions, a sucker for tales and sentiments, albeit barely ever picking up a book voluntarily.

Just today. Today something seems off. The issue he has with the feelings prevalent in the book seem to reach far deeper — to a personal level, it seems.

You start slowly and patiently, shaking your head once before you say, “But you won’t die. I chose my prince wisely, and I do not care for our stable boys,” you pause, lifting a finger with a laugh, “wait. In such a way, I mean. They are actually very kind.”

Jungkook doesn’t appreciate your joke — your suspicion grows. Although he does turn to the side again, elbow digging into the pillow, body closer to yours.

“What about lords?”

Huh. What?

You echo your thoughts, “What?” You wait for only a moment before the space between his eyebrows morphs into a crease, and you mimic the expression. “Alright. Now you’re not making sense anymore.”

It takes another second or two for his drying eyes to blink. The movement is slow, a little frustrated; he looks to his hands. Then up to you; to the wall behind you and back to you.

Then, his Adam’s apple bops, swallowing thickly before he finally reveals, “The maids were talking about some neighbouring man. Lord Jeong or something. Would you happen to know him?”

Jeong?

Hm…

You think for a moment.

Of course you know him. The town isn’t too far from yours, and the people around here never speak ill of him. In fact, one of your cooks was just praising him a couple weeks ago as you dined without Jungkook during his busy working hours.

The cook kept you company for most of the time, speaking of his pre-Jeon adventures in other towns, with other lords.

You hum before you respond, “I know of a Jeong Yuno. But I have never spoken to him.”

The sigh of relief that Jungkook heaves is immediate. You stare bewildered.

“Good,” he answers, “they were just…”

He scratches his scalp before the hand drops to the mattress with a dull thump. For a distracted moment, he smoothens the already flat baby blue surface, drifting from his original thought.

The light tug at the sheet creates new wrinkles; you watch intently, relaxed and calm. Only, you aren’t sure he feels the same way. Especially when his fingertips shift to the back of your hand, a ghost touch looming over your thumb.

He must have thought about this a lot.

“They were saying that a lord was spreading rumours about how he used to want you and would still not hesitate if you could be his.”

Oh.

“That’s… not a proper thing to announce for a lord,” you sympathise, gaining an instant nod, enhanced by the round, big, brown eyes.

“Yes. It is not. A very outrageous statement to give about a married lady anyway.”

“Mhm…”

You are in full agreement that the words shouldn’t have fallen out of a presumably respected man of the country. Someone as loved and cherished by a community shouldn’t comment on a married couple, even less on the wife of a well-known man.

Jungkook’s father was celebrated around towns and villages — the head of the capital.

It’s just that in this case — you can imagine what occurred. The lord in question relishes a far lesser known reputation than Jungkook. If it’s who you imagine it to be, he must be reigning over a tiny village now.

You remember that back when you knew him, he was still young, uninterested in his parents’ legacy; seems he has made it far. Though, it seems he hasn’t quite understood the responsibilities that come with royalship.

Shit.

Jungkook notices your fog-shrouded gaze; you probably haven’t blinked in a while. He touches and taps your wrist, pulling back your attention, possibly still tense as he asks, “What?”

When you look at him, he resembles a curious, frightened puppy, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He’s pouting, waiting for an answer, lips parted. He lifts his head off the propped up hand, alerted, and repeats—

“What?”

Waving his concerns off would do nothing, right? You swore to always be transparent — and this issue isn’t big enough to be postponed. In fact, it might only grow if you do choose to stuff it in a chamber.

“You are not talking about Jeong,” you explain, carefully wrapping your fingers around his, “but Jung. Jung Hoseok.”

The curtain of relief falls and gives way to a dark, gloomy night. You know he expected this conversation to be over, for his misunderstanding to turn out as just this. But there’s more behind the maids’ whispers — and he hates it.

“Who?” he asks.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you feel displeased with it.”

“Why would I feel displeased?” Jungkook prods, slowly sitting up. “Is there a reason to?”

Absolutely not. But you also know your husband isn’t the most patient of men when it comes to envy and poison green feelings alike. You still remember the night you confronted his uncle — slivers of jealousy found their way through him even then.

“No,” you admit, “but it is absurd, and I knew you would react like this.”

“Like what? I am calm.”

That he is.

At least the rapid breathing, the voice gaining on pitch, the manner in which he squeezes your hand — they indicate a form of calm unknown to you, alright.

“Jungkook…” you mumble, wiping over the back of his hand with your thumb, trying to calm the grip.

You move on the bed, butt bumping against your book and nearly knocking it to the ground. Tired from the day, you grunt as you get on your knees, watching him follow your body before you finally straddle him.

Jungkook gets into a proper position, heaving himself up until his back is pressed to the bed’s railing. He holds onto your waist to keep your balance, and you shift properly onto his lap.

Once stabilised, your hands hurry to his face, squishing his cheeks just a little as you speak, “I shall make you wiser then?”

“You shall stop teasing me.”

The fiery eyes could throw daggers at you on any other day, but the pout he talks through just makes him look… sweet. Thick eyebrows kiss, and he pulls at one of your hands to lighten the cradling grip around his face.

You angle your head, fond of the soft care, albeit hiding behind an insecurity. There’s flattery in the way his mind created a nonexistent rival — at least, he thinks you’re worth the worship.

You surrender when he blinks, letting out an exasperated breath, “Alright. Remember when I told you I have only fallen in love very few times?”

“At the orphanage.”

His answer shoots out of him as if scripted, and you dare a subtle chuckle. Your thumb brushes against his lips and the mole underneath them; you think that despite his agitation, the gesture soothes his soul.

“Jung Hoseok was one of those people,” you say.

A few buttons of his linen shirt are open, so you see his sun kissed chest heave at the admission. You move a hand down to touch the sculpted skin, warm and immediately comforting under your touch.

“He was the only other Lord I ever dared to mess with, but he wasn’t too important back then yet. And Hoseok… he caught me at a time when I was not yet ready for bigger commitments. Despite my feelings for him.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glistening. Helplessly observing your every move and expression, lost for words as he digests yours. There’s an ego in men that you haven’t understood just yet; fragile at times.

So this piece of information must be activating a thorough thought process in him.

It’s odd. How those once roaming around town are usually the ones affected the most when they actually fall in love. Protective and dedicated to an exceptional degree.

Maybe, however, because his escapades never meant anything at all. And you… You put your heart in someone’s hands once.

“What happened?” Jungkook wonders, puppy stare intact.

You don’t think there’s more to tell — or more for him to know. But a curious mind is a curious mind.

So you tell him, “He wanted more right away. Dedication, marriage, for me to leave my house. And,” you shrug, uncomfortable with memories of a past lover; you want to keep loving and touching your current one, “I couldn’t.”

You’re not sure whether his nerves are calming at all; but you’re satisfied and relieved when he lifts a palm to the small of your back, gaze warm. You keep playing with the collar of the soft linen.

“And now I am happy I didn’t. In hindsight, we were so incredibly different. I mean, people are different, but… we didn’t match at all.”

“Were you…” His voice is so unbearably quiet. So sweet and lovely; the cocky boy from years ago has a delicate heart, and you want it pressed to yours. “Ready when I asked you to marry me?”

Ready? In fact, your skin was tingling with joy; every moment of the day.

You soothe his worries, “I would not be here if I hadn’t been. This,” you raise your fingers to his cheek again, brushing his face with their back, “you. I won’t ever want more. You’re all the dreams I’ve ever dreamt.”

Are you referring to nightly images conjured by a dreamy mind? When you’re fast asleep, barely ever tossing beside him? Because as far as he’s concerned, you follow him even into his daydreams, in your presence and in your absence.

If he told you now, he fears you’d dissipate; you’re a soul with its head in the clouds, and you’ve always appreciated a gesture of romance here and there.

You’re a force of nature, and someone to be desired greatly.

But.

Perhaps that’s what’s troubling him the most right now. And it never has before. He knows you’re captivating, and he’s proud that somebody loves him who’s easy to love, but this time… this time the whispers prevail, and they do something odd to his mind.

He matches your smile, giving into the relief you bring; yet, distressed by his own intrusive thoughts and memories of conversations he’s gathered, he can’t help but let his gaze fall. It floats over your bare neck and clavicles and then drops further to your lap.

A hand on his neck, you opt for a question — he knows by the way you suck in a soft breath, knows every of your motions and their meanings. But before your inquiry tumbles out, he murmurs, “They were saying he wants you back.”

And the worst thing is that you don’t hesitate, immediately nodding. “I heard about it. I uh… the other day I went down to the village and one of them told me her sister was part of the staff over in his town. And they heard others in his mansion say it, apparently.”

Jungkook doesn’t like the ugly, searing hot feeling spreading beneath his chest. It differs entirely from anger or disgust; pure fire burning up his insides and extending to his head.

That you talked about the still rather yearning lord with somebody else isn’t Jungkook’s favourite thought, admittedly. Worse even when you proceed, “He’s unmarried, I’ve heard.”

But what could you do with what you heard? Do you even care?

Jungkook swallows the balls of flames until the vexing sensation burns in his stomach, nearly afraid to ask, “What do you think of that?”

He shouldn’t be, though. Because you’ve proved time and time again who you stand with — yet, it feels like a wanted relief when you, with absolute certainty unmatched, assure, “Nothing. How could that affect my life? I’m here, with you.”

“I…” Jungkook tilts his head, and when he stares back up to you again, you could swear a piece of your heart detaches itself from the rest. Shoots right into his chest. “Am I being stupid?”

And how could it not if the man of your dreams, yours in this and the next lives, usually so composed, wordlessly declares you his kryptonite every single day?

Your eyebrows furrow slightly in unending adoration and worship, and you sigh, touching his cheek, wishing there was a far superior way to showcase affection and love of such tender sort.

“A little,” you admit.

“But… you’ll forgive me for it?”

“Nothing to forgive you for.” You match the tilting motion of his head, but in the opposite direction. You blink slowly. “Except maybe for the fact that you provide so much love without giving much of it to yourself.”

When he downs the knot in his throat again, it feels and looks different. Not the insecure envy from before, but rather a truth spiking his heart.

“…Darling,” he whispers, “why?”

“You know as well as I know that you trust me. That’s not why you’re afraid, right? It’s because you don’t trust yourself.” You remove a strand of dark tresses off his forehead. “We’ll change that.”

You don’t judge him for it, huh? You could. In truth, you could absolutely distance yourself from such an unwanted trait, but you don’t. Combatting it seems easier to you.

Yet, he can’t find a better answer than, “I’m sorry.”

Your husband is a jealous man, but he’s also a fragile man. You’re not allowed to leave him; not because you regard it as a duty to serve as his remedy. But because you made a vow to love him regardless, regardless of fate’s cruelty.

And.

You want to show him what you see through your eyes; what he doesn’t notice through the looking glass.

“Thank you for forgiving me, though?” he then speaks, forming it as a question rather than a statement; though he finds himself pretty soon. “Albeit, I have to say, if you hadn’t, I would’ve found ways for you to do it either wa—”

His promise is broken by your yelp when he presses you in, tickling your waist. He grits his teeth, cuteness aggression kicking in when you call his name, holding onto his face. Your nose inches close to his as he squeezes your hip.

Eyes closing before they open again and he says, “I will never let you go. Never. And let nobody ever have you but me.”

“Aren’t we a little more obsessed tonight?” you jest, watching him shrug his shoulders. “But. I would be mad if you did.”

“My princess…”

There’s something about the breathy tone, filled with growing desire, a not too subtle hint to how the night will inevitably evolve.

It’s insane, how the breathing stagnates when you’re in love; crazy at just the prospect of lips touching.

And once they do, your lungs dry out right away, and you lean back, slowly losing your grip. But he holds you and holds you tighter, eyes aflame with sheer willpower, and then holds you so tight, it hurts…

The kiss is breathtaking, in the truest sense of the word. Goosebumps covering all your flesh, you raise your shoulders, hands in his hair as his wander along the lines of your body. He moves just a little underneath you, but you feel the change so obviously.

Harder, stirring, hot and heavy. And you enhance the effect, continuing the sloppy kisses until he, impatiently, breaks away from the kiss with a quiet moan and opts for your neck.

The break between the change, he uses to focus on his hands. Raises your dress at light-speed, brushing his palms over the curves of your ass. And he doesn’t take too long before he’s snuck his digits further in this complicated position, winding his arm to find your aching heat.

You move forward a little, helping out, so his limb can wrap around you easier, digits floating to the hole. But your decision distracts him; you laugh.

“It’s amusing to you, yes? Having your tits in my face,” he teases, as shameless as ever when he bites and misses your nipple by an inch over your gown.

The free hand pushes the clothing down, freeing one side, reluctant to practise restraint when swollen lips engulf your hard nipple. You whimper immediately as his teeth gently nibble at the nerves, and you tighten your grip around him, head falling back.

“Cannot say it’s not,” you admit, unconsciously toying with the hair in the nape of his neck until you start pulling, barely noticing. He does, however, gasping with a mouthful of your tits. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, an indicator that he doesn’t care; that he enjoys the pleasurable pain if it’s you inflicting it in a moment like this. As a masochist and a pet at times, you won’t disagree.

But you don’t hold the power for too long when he continues with his intentions, finger pressing against your pussy, desperately longing for the garment to disappear. Wanting to sink into you with all his might.

But… endurance. Patience.

You nearly suffocate him in your tits as he caresses your cunt, and then your ass again, only managing to resurface to say, “Pretty girl… weren’t you tired?”

“I was,” you tug at him, wanting him much, much closer, “make me more.”

“More tired?”

“So I sleep better tonight.”

“Sweetheart… you will. I promise you.”

It’s vows like these that stir the last stage of lust in you, so unbridled that it leaks out of each of your pores. You want his trousers off, want them to magically disappear. But sorcery doesn’t exist, and your wish will be impossible to fulfil in this position.

And he notices, reads your thoughts as if floating above your head. “Lift your body?” he kindly demands, holding you for a second until you’re inches over his crotch. He uses the moment to lower his clothing along with the underwear, suddenly half bare.

Oh so bare…

When you look down, you’re met with protruding veins, a length twitching slightly, wanting to lay against his stomach. And you don’t hesitate as you lower yourself again, dragging your clothed pussy over the hardness so recklessly—

But the harsh material of your clothes rubs him wrong, literally, and he whimpers. Should you do it again? You fucking love it when he whines and writhes… but not in such a way.

You don’t want to hurt him. So you oblige. Stop when he digs his nails into your waist, ordering, “Get off, so I can—”

You don’t know what for, but you can imagine, and the thousand possible pictures are more than enough for you to lift yourself off immediately. Carefully, you move away, expecting for him to let you know how to continue, but instead…

Within the blink of an eye, you find yourself flat on your back, flipped over and caged in. Only rising again when he aids you in doing so, just the upper body, just a little. To remove your dress, pulling it over your head and stuffing it in a corner.

You swear the time passes in slow-motion, yet simultaneously paces faster than usual. Because it’s a leisurely blur when you see him discard the last piece of your bed-attire. But a rush when he bares his golden chest and back, laying next to you and starting to kiss your tummy.

It’s so funny because…

You sigh. Nevermind.

You put your attention solely on how he kisses his way down, still next to you, further down until you only see his back and his mane, and somewhere far beneath, hands caressing your thighs. Then spreading them. And then, working up… up towards…

“You’re defeating me today…” you happily conclude, not one to reject a night with him winding under you, but also not one to decline… whatever he’s doing right now.

“You are very welcome.”

Cheeky jerk. You’d snort and roll your eyes if you had the energy and power to. Although, the latter does not stay absent after all, even if the roll of your eyes occurs backwards, mouth open when he parts your folds and touches your swollen nub.

Gauging your reaction, he throws a stare back, just briefly and quickly. He barely flinches when you pierce his skin with your nails, scratching him, biting your lower lip with desperation in your pupils.

And it’s enough for him. Boosts his keenness. You see it in his smirk, and see the desire, the devotion, the appetite in his lost eyes.

He cocks an eyebrow at you, never bothered by your frequent love-wounds, yet sly when he warns, referring to your nails, “Stop it. I will tie you up if you keep going.”

Is that… a threat or a promise? You’re tempted to test him.

But for now, you wish to indulge further in what he’s initiating, and if you said something right now or provoked him into a pace of change, you’d lose the moment. So you remain still. Or, as much as you manage to.

Not quite when he moves over you, turning the back towards you once more, and—

Is that… oh. No doubt that he just spat right onto your clit, wet, warm and enhancing your greed. And then the damned finger. Touching your thighs as if to tease you, advancing to your cunt slowly, as opposed to the ball of frustration building in your chest and tummy.

“Could you move that up?” you mutter, barely registering how nonsensical you might sound.

But Jungkook knows you inside out, and reads your words as well as your body. Uses the knowledge to torture you some more, sneaking to your folds before he finally touches them, but doesn’t dig in.

Okay…

“Why?” you ask, not expecting an answer. “I’ve been good these days.”

“You’ve been great,” Jungkook retorts, tugging at one of your nether lips as if busying himself, “but I’m just kidding. Who am I to deny you anything?”

“In this situation? Perfectly Jeon Jungkook…”

The unsteady breathing accompanying your statement adds to the comedic aspect of the moment, and he doesn’t hold back when he laughs. Only briefly stopping when he leans down, delivering a chaste kiss to your aching bud.

And then he does the unforgivable, and lifts himself up. Away from you. Entirely.

“What—”

“It’s alright,” he ensures, nodding as if to make it believable for himself, “I am right here. See?”

He crawls — crawls! — towards you, very briefly until he reaches your lips, kissing you with the same filthy mouth that touched your intimate part just a moment ago. His mouth moves against yours just a little, then retracts and then comes back for another shorter kiss.

“Want me to do it?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Tie you up?” The constant head tilts are killing you, not well for your heart or mind. Even less combined with the sickly sweet smile, so awfully in love. “You didn’t reject the idea and,” another kiss to the corner of your lips, “you’re being so terribly cooperative tonight.”

He says it as if it’s news to him. As if you’re not true-blue every second of the day.

Jerk wants things spelled out to him. Waits as he plays with a lock, face hovering inches from yours, and the tip of his tongue so visibly touching the spot behind his front teeth.

As you refuse to answer, however, solely for the purpose to gauge what he might do next, he chuckles quietly, inhaling before he says, “Alright. Different idea, then.”

He gets back on his knees, straightening his upper body for a mere moment only before he opens your legs. Positions himself between them. Distances himself from you before finally getting into the desired stance. Stomach-down, hands touching your thighs, parting them with his mouth close to you.

It takes everything in you to not shut your limbs again when the warm breath mingles with your sloppy centre; and you already feel wasted when his tongue darts out. Opens up your pussy a little. Tickles you so lightly.

“Put your hands over your head,” he uses the pause for, haphazardly gesturing into your general direction with his chin, “no touching allowed. And if you endure until I’ve tasted you till the end, I’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the night.”

The image his words conjure is mesmerising. Yet, you don’t know if that’s the outcome you’re wishing for, or rather the absolute opposite, submitting to him and letting yourself go entirely for his pleasure.

There is no time to think. Your mind isn’t capable of thoughts at all.

Of course not, not if he attaches his mouth to your cunt, wrapping gorgeously soft and swollen lips around your equally soft and swollen ones. He kisses your pussy, drawing back with a smooching sound.

Goes in again, repeats. Then, slowly, adds his tongue. Swirls it around your clit, making your right leg twitch, your body react. A strong hand holds your thigh down, breath falling against you so hotly; the sensation is unlike anything else.

You don’t know how he does it; but you don’t just feel the tickling, endlessly lustful phenomenon where he causes it, but across your body. On your warm skin, in your stomach, in your chest.

You’re light-headed when his tongue flicks over your clit again, and then moves back to your hole; you curl in your toes. For the first time after a long while, you think this won’t take very long.

Digging your nails into your palms, you wet your lower lip with your tongue, uttering, “I’m almost there…”

“Mhm,” he muses with his mouth still licking you up, spreading the warm feeling all over. Then detaches himself to say, “I thought so. I can hear it.”

Knows you too well…

You recognise that he wants to take his time. Your pleasure is his sole purpose, fully focused on your reactions, your sounds, your winding body. But as the two of you deduced, you’re closer to the end than ever.

He kisses your thigh, provides little love-bites, tongue tasting your skin before he dives back in. Breathing in and out through his nose, he buries himself in you, bringing a thumb under his tongue and pushing in just a bit, but not entirely.

At the same time, his other thumb shifts its attention to rolling over your clit. Apparently, he trusts you enough now to not pin your legs to the mattress anymore, doesn’t expect you to give in and touch him, even if you want to. The way you’re holding yourself back, seeking your pleasure and obeying his orders floods pride and immeasurable greed through him.

As he French kisses you thoroughly, you notice when he smiles against your pussy. Even laughs a bit in amusement. Your body moves and lifts when his light but calculated touch toys with your nerves; he follows the insane writhing, glued to you.

And then he pushes a finger inside, pumps a couple times; moves his tongue to your clit. It’s crazy. Crazy. The saliva dripping off his chin when he eats you up, so diligent and powerful, executing this as perfectly as ever.

But it’s neither of these things that make you topple off the edge; not just the fingers or his tongue or how worryingly good he is at this.

But the damn eye contact at the end.

The immediate connection between you, the way he wants to see you, understand your reactions, but simultaneously keep going.

And all that knowledge helps you feel it all over. The contractions coming in waves; the pleasure radiating to every other part of your body. The sense of warmth and tingling experience.

Shit, and the euphoria. The profound relaxation while perceiving the increased heart rate at the same time; your glowing skin and the sweat.

And once you’re done, throat dry from not speaking, only yelling, you breathe, “That was… quick.”

“I am sorry,” he responds, still exhaling against you; you still feel the waves inside your cunt, so it’s hard to listen. “I needed to let my frustration out somewhere.”

You half-roll your eyes, as much as manageable.

“But in exchange… I’ll hold my promise and let you do anything,” he repeats, rubbing your leg and then your sides softly. Slowly moves up to you until his length presses against your heat and his lips align with your mouth. “Can I just first…”

“Love,” you interrupt, “you don’t need to. You don’t need to hold your promise, because I don’t want you to. Not tonight.”

“What?”

“I want you to let it all out,” you confess, ”claim me.”

Because frankly, you see it in his eyes. That he wants to release the beast, too. Of course ready for your ministrations, but yearning to wreck you so desperately. Already in the headspace, affected from the moment he licked you dry and wetter.

“I promised,” he tries, but you shake your head, still breathing stagnantly.

“I… So I… May I?” he still inquires permission, stuttering, so gentle, polite and tormented. “Goodness. I might die.”

You chuckle at the hyperbole, though the sound comes out weak as you still breathe through your craze. As you stare up at him, you think you recognise pure anguish reflecting in his gaze, made visible by the candlelight. Eyebrows kissing, mouth open.

You feel similar, so you’re not one to turn down the plea.

“Yes, but… I mean it. You don’t need to submit entirely. I want you to do what you want to do.”

Because that’s when he’s the most authentic. And because the statement never poses a risk with Jungkook. Any other man might forsake you, but you could say such a thing a thousand times; even as he seeks his own pleasure, he won’t forget about yours.

And unleash all desperation on you simultaneously.

You want this. You want this.

“Fret not,” he assures, “I will. I am not neglecting either of us.”

Lining himself up, he sits up properly, starting a languid movement of the head of his length up and down your pussy. He means to tease you just a bit longer, wanting to test your reaction to the thickness rubbing between your folds.

But you see the surprise in his face when his cock threatens to slip in the moment it reaches your hole, even though there is no reason for his bafflement. Doesn’t he know what he does to you?

“Oh…” he murmurs, trying again, once again watching just a few inches disappear inside you before he pulls back. “That is… nice.”

In, then out again. Once more, in. Once more, out.

Then a tap of his heavy cock against your pelvis, stroking it in the process for further hardness, and you observe. Fully undisturbed and entirely amazed by what you’re seeing. Every single time.

You let him touch himself, and then close your eyes to listen to his sounds. But he soon leans into you again, whispering to keep them open, and when you do, he uses the proximity to kiss you again.

Harder this time. Moaning as he jerks himself off. A second longer until he brings it back to your pussy, and you raise your back off the mattress a little when he pushes the head in. Whimpering into the kiss, never having him back away.

You grip his shoulders for safety, trying not to go insane, and right before he parts from you, he nods. Asking, “Yes?”

“Please.”

“Shall I?”

“Please start.”

“Start… if you want me to fuck you numb, I will. Right until your mind is vacant of everything else. Will fuck all of me into you. Yes?” You take a shaky breath, barely nodding, but he sees and laughs quietly. “I need every lord to know to keep their hands off just by the way you walk.”

The nod turns into a shake of your head, and as he presses in further, you try to whisper, “That would be… incredibly scandalous, my love.”

“Oh? What difference does it make? The entire house always knows when I do these things with you.”

“Do they—”

“The staff always whispers. And they pay extra attention to you. Always lurking and trying to see if something changes about you. I’ve heard them, you know?”

Oh… oh, you know what he means. Of course you do. Perhaps you’re not the only one dreaming of a blooming future with him, of seeds being planted and growing into this family of yours.

The entire place must be waiting for the announcement to arrive one day.

Right…

“Then…” you start, interrupting yourself to press your lips together, muffling your moan when you feel him bottom out. “Then do not hold back now either. I want you to.”

“To hold myself back?”

“No.”

“Want what then, darling?”

“To fuck my mind numb of thoughts. And my legs of any feeling.”

Abruptly, he pulls out. Then, all of a sudden in again, all at once. You’re cross-eyed when you moan, and he more or less falls onto you as you pull him in, resisting the urge to bite into his shoulder as he nuzzles your neck.

A hand settles under your knee, raising one leg over his waist, starting to move. Messily, he licks and kisses your neck, continuing at your jawline, and then down to your clavicles. Fucks you lovingly enough to light a fire in you.

His hanging strands tickle your skin, damp from the sweat much like his forehead. His greedy sounds are crazy against your collarbones, and then decrease in volume when his lips wrap around your nipple once again.

“Sweetheart,” he mutters.

“Mhh…”

“This is not enough, is it?” No, it isn’t. He barely needs to speak on for you to momentarily shake your head, but he does, and it adds to your madness. “Not enough to disable straight walking…”

“Yes. No, yes—”

You mewl embarrassingly when he slides his cock out again; you see so much more of him outside of you than fucking necessary.

And God. God, you hate it when he presumably accidentally retracts it fully. Silently complaining, you sigh with worried eyebrows, but he finds his way back to you easily. It’d be odd if he didn’t. You suck him in effortlessly.

And he seems to enjoy it. Seems to seek an end to his goal, still keeping his previous question in mind, and then—

Your thighs quiver when he pushes in with all his power, all at once and as deeply as physically possible, and your eyes shut so hard that they hurt.

“Would you look at these tits…” you hear him say, forcing yourself to look at him again, fluttering your eyelids open.

And as sassily as your foggy brain allows, you respond, “I am looking, as well.”

At small, brown, constantly hard nipples. You want to touch them, kiss and bite them. Want to destroy him as much as he’s intending to destroy you. But you can barely move.

How could you if this time, when he returns to his ministrations, he turns entirely, irrevocably, positively merciless.

He gently falls forwards, holding you as he did before, but this time, when he hammers into you, the entire bed shakes. You raise your arm over your head, holding onto the railing for a second, inspecting how far away your head remains from it.

But Jungkook is attentive, and you only notice a second later that his palm is covering your head, keeping it from bumping against the railing. So you remove your hands from it, letting it glide over his smooth back again, sweat-covered and hot now.

He’s a monster, this man. Or perhaps, you make him a monster. You want to believe you’re the sole reason he forgets the universe like this; pounds into you, causing your body to move up and down the mattress, just because you’re the weakest spot he has.

Of course you are. Of course.

So obvious when he confesses for the millionth time, “I love you.” Muffled, but clearer when he moves to look at you, expression beyond words as he repeats, “I love you so much.”

“And I you, my love.”

Strange. So strange how you never would’ve imagined yourself saying such a thing just a few years ago. How you avoided him, took a different path than him, never voluntarily meeting his eyes.

The words floating between you urge him to slow down for the moment; he attempts to take you in, to memorise you. Lets his eyes flit from your mouth over your nose to your pupils. Touches your cheek.

And the slower pace allows you to speak a bit more properly, even though you can’t help but feel distracted when he drops his head some to peck your skin.

“It… it has not been more than two years, has it? When we still despised each other.”

His kiss burns scars into your shoulder, hotter than hellfire. A raspy voice murmurs, “The world changes in mysterious ways.”

“Mmmh—”

It does. So does your mind. Because why is it that the most utterly sweet romance births the wildest of desires?

“And… Maybe that is what you need to unleash tonight, Kook. Perhaps I need it, too—” You shudder when he hums. His digits are still restless on your face, sliding up and down; not knowing what to caress. “What if you fucked me like you still hated me?”

“I… would that… You want that? I cannot even act as if I hate you, though.”

“Try it. I want you to.”

Jungkook remains speechless for too long, still comprehending your words, clearly torn between adhering to your wishes and worshipping you with the same adoration as you give out.

But as you so faintly mouth a hushed Please, you diffuse something in his brain. Inexplicably, because the rush of sensations, while never absent, feels new each time he touches you.

Perhaps that’s why he never gets enough of you; you hang a new star onto the sky every day, a new moon every night. Alternating every moment and refusing to leave a single one bland.

He’d be damned if he didn’t give the same excitement back to you.

Pushing his body up, he kneels above you, slipping out of you bit by bit as he grips your left knee. He shifts your limb, changing the position until you’re laying sideways, somewhat twisted.

You see the fleeting glimpse of pride as he slides back home and you mewl, soon squinting your eyes shut because shit — whatever you were doing before doesn’t compare to the tightness the shift allows. How your legs are nearly closed, allowing for much more friction.

You’re wrapped around him so fucking well, reminiscent of old key-to-its-lock-metaphors; and he feels infinitely closer to you. Possibly having a harder time than you, even.

The drag of his cock is endless as he begins, still too gentle, but effective enough. Your hands seek a place to hold onto, immediately opting for his leg; but he doesn’t seem to dig the idea as much.

“Let go,” he orders, not quite waiting for you to oblige before he’s captured your arm harshly and removed your touch, pinning it to your hip. “Same as before. No touching or I’ll stop—” The thrust he delivers isn’t quick, but relentless and hard; deep to the hilt. “—this. I don’t care if you cry or complain then.”

Shit…

He’s started. And he’s playing the act well. In your drowsy idiocy, you can’t help but wonder how the two of you would’ve fared if you’d turned your hate into lust much earlier. If you hadn’t used the time to despise each other, but transform it into this kind of energy.

Of course it is stupid to retort to such fantasies. Back then, you were disgusted by his personality, irritated by the way the two of you treated each other. There would’ve been no scenario in which he would’ve landed balls-deep in you.

But fuck, does the image prompt something in you.

You don’t bother for an answer, reckoning that the quiver of your lower lip might suffice, but… seemingly, not for him. Because he presses into your wrist harder before moving it to your back.

Yelping, you nearly stuff your face in the pillow, not entirely realising his next moves until you open your eyes again. See his mouth floating right over your ear. So close to you, pushing your damp hair back, whispering ominously, “Are you not fucking hearing me? Do you not understand?”

“I…” Goddamn it. Is he gritting his teeth? Playing his aggression so well? Or does it derive from the sheer lust he can’t contain? “I hear you. I understand.”

“What did I say?”

“No touching.”

The fingers stroking your strands back are more tender than his words, rewarding you with caresses as he continues just a tad softer, “Was that so difficult?”

He leaves you with another squeeze of your tits, moving his knees on the mattress to draw closer to your body. To bury himself further into you, leaving no spot untouched. And then, perfectly in character, claims, “Looking as pathetic as years ago, aren’t you? Probably dreamed of fucking me then, too.”

Wow—

Regarding the assignment with absolute diligence, it seems.

Even more cruel when he slips out of you so casually, so easily, despite adjusting to the position a mere moment ago. For a good purpose, however — because his digits replace his rock hard, soaked cock not soon after, testing the situation with languidly slow pumps.

They feel so different from his length; so… inadequate. You desire so much more. Back to where you were a minute ago. It’s… so hard not to touch him.

But if you begged for it now, would he give in? Or rather hold onto your previous idea?

You can try.

“Kook…” you whisper carefully, albeit immediately noticing how his breathing overshadows the word. You attempt again, “Kook.” This time, he hears. “Please. Need more? Please.”

“Asking for mercy all of a sudden… you cannot be serious.”

“I…”

“You’re lucky I do, too, you see? Need more.” Firmly, he lets a heavy hand fall to your ass, moving it up before your surprised squeal leaves you, and pushes at your back; your body flat on your stomach. “Or you’d long be sprawled over my lap.”

One of your dangerous traits is that you’re constantly tempted to test him. To act out, to follow his little warnings. Then again, he already provides enough; already at a hundred percent.

Like now, when he returns with the intent to wear you out. Wrecking you from the moment his cock intrudes again, falling in so smoothly that it’s almost embarrassing.

He starts right away. Pants a couple seconds later, matching your squeaks, probably delighted by your desperation as you hold, nearly rip the sheets.

Tired, he leans in, chest closer to your back, and uses the nape of your neck as leverage to move easier. Wrapping a hand around it, pressing you down, hearing you whine and sniffle against the pillow.

You cannot recall the last time he fucked you this brutally. Snapping against your ass, letting all of the massiveness he sports disappear inside you. You don’t know what surprises you more — his stamina or the fact that you can take him this well at all.

But even Jeon Jungkook has his limits. You hear the approaching end in the way he sounds, breathing irregular and words incoherent. How broken his sounds are, high-pitched and absolutely unhinged. How his thrusts are slower now, indicative of his fatigue.

You know he’s close. But when he doesn’t slow down but stops altogether, you know he doesn’t want to be.

Refusing the orgasm, he pulls out for the nth time, much, much to your chagrin. With a dry throat, perspiring skin and droopy eyes, he delivers a harmless smack to your ass, and says, “Get up. Your turn to work on this.”

And with that, he means making himself comfortable against the back of the bed; letting the muscles of his arms bulge when he lifts them; using both hands to card through his hair, bringing some order into his messy mane.

Then, watching as you sit up, crawling on all fours and nearing his awaiting body.

Your gaze falls to his lap right away as you inch closer. To the shiny, wet member, secured in his fist, moving in it just a little, so as not to explode prematurely. Reserving it for you, and you only.

Such a giant. Towering. Thick enough for you to once again wonder if you can truly fit this inside you. Jungkook is gifted in every way.

And it’s not just the package he’s so proudly touching right now; it’s all of him. The golden skin, the thick thighs, the firm chest and the moles across his body. How his plush lips part further, the more your warmth nears.

Ready for you when you don’t take a seat right away but instead, steer straight towards his mouth, seeking a kiss you so hopelessly need. And for a second, he falls weak to your actions.

Only, until he suddenly yanks you back by your hair, probably reluctantly because…

Even now, his face draws to yours like a magnet, wanting more. Resisting. Extending the misery.

“Sit down,” he instructs, hitting your hanging tits. “Now.”

You do.

You do as quickly as you can; even rolling back your eyes, throwing back your head, unconsciously submitting to the reflex of gripping his shoulders. Bad idea — because he snatches your wrists, working to bring your arms behind your back again. Away from his body.

“Without this. Start.”

You try. You drag your pussy along his cock, up and then back down again; give yourself time to actually take in every little bit of him and how he makes you feel. The muscles of your legs and upper body are in full swing, exhausting your capacities.

But you’ll admit that it’s hard; not because your limbs have turned as wobbly as is usual with this beast, but because you’re awfully out of balance.

As he holds you captive, you’re struggling with the stance, even when he pulls your chest to his, melting the two of you. You don’t voice the difficulty yet, keen on observing his reactions; enduring the tremble of your body.

“So incredibly cooperative,” he repeats, “we make a strong pair, don’t we?”

Tease. Tease. Taking advantage of how much you crave praise.

You cannot pinpoint whether you’re coveting his appetite particularly strongly these days, or whether he’s just now awoken desires unknown to you so far — but his advances leave you salivating. Make you hunger for more.

Odd how you didn’t know you’d enjoy it if he gripped a patch of your hair as he is now, shaking your head, face close enough to you to repeatedly graze his lips against yours. Or that you could tighten around him like this the moment his fingers dig into your cheeks, holding you like an enemy.

“Mmmmh, you are pretty,” he hums, delivering two light slaps to your cheek. He hisses when he feels you constrict again, trapping his cock between your drenched walls, only able to whisper multiple fucked-out, “Pretty, pretty, pretty.”

His fitful breathing doesn’t allow for much interruption of his air flow; his chest is heaving and he seems far more spent than he did in the beginning. But he’s never ready to stop or wave the white flag.

Still succumbing to said hurdles when his lips dash forward, instantly blending his taste with yours as his tongue snakes around yours. His lips move against yours with ferocity and determination. Teeth bite your lower lip softly, giving his aggression a soft outlet.

And it seems to you that he might not pull his claws in again tonight, unleashing all the savage fierceness his lust and envy combine into. Perhaps this will turn into the most ruthless night just yet.

But you’re wrong.

And for once tonight, you don’t mind the 180 turn.

Because the moment he surfaces from the kiss to catch his breath, you use the pause to whisper his name. With a gentle shudder, kissing eyebrows and half-open eyes, you bring your forehead to his, and all of a sudden, he lets you go.

You don’t understand why until you look at him again. Blinking innocently, still not touching him properly, but carefully bringing your fingertips to his legs. The crease between your eyebrows vanishes, allowing them to rise, and you echo, “Kookie…?”

That’s all it takes. You might be hallucinating, but you think you see something in him break. Something shifting back into place, as if he’s going through a change, returning to himself after separating from his mind for a bit.

And he slows down. The dizzying brutality of his pounding leaving you drooling turns into something friendlier. A welcome alteration but…

The change in pace surprises you. Not even inspecting his expressions helps you understand what he might be thinking, what he might be intending to do next. He’s unpredictable in moments like these.

He might turn the tides. Or he might return to his demonic self.

What you don’t realise is how your eyes affect his thumping heart so badly; how you emanate sweetness with all of your being, and how you make this played aggression nearly impossible.

Rendered hypnotised, he understands that’s enough for tonight. This isn’t the true nature the two of you share. What was it again in simple, human words, never enough to describe the celestial feeling within?

In love. Devoted. Ready to do anything. And so, so beautiful.

Jungkook cradles your face, gently massaging the back of your head. His thumb touches your cheek as if you’re fragile, careful to keep you together now and forever. You’re tenderness personified; the object of all his desires.

The definition of a treasure to be protected. And you are—

“You’re the kind of person to kill for.” His warmth breathes into your face when his lips ghost in front of yours, words sugary when he admits, “I cannot do this like I hate you. Because I don’t.”

…If there is one thing aside from you that your husband will remain loyal to forever, it’s his feelings. Not only towards you, but everything he regards the world with.

He always claims he hid most of himself before he met you, but you’re convinced he never stopped being the person he is. That he was merely believing in what others wanted him to believe.

That’s all.

Even now, as his touch falls to the small of your back, he refuses to deny the fondness and care that has grown in his heart, right around your name sheltered in there.

You swallow thickly, touching his waist, and shake your head, “Then don’t. Do it just how you mean it.”

He nods, bringing his fingers back to yours and lifting them as he asks, “Would you like to touch me again?”

“Will you let me?”

A kind laugh meets your curious, yet genuine question. He places your hands on his shoulder, jesting, “Imagine… having the power over you to decide whether to let you or not.”

Bringing his own fingers to your ass, he moves you a bit, and with that, his hardness inside you. “I love it when you are desperate like this, my love. But.” You moan when he urges you to move. “So am I.”

“Jungkook… I’m yours. You can do whatever you want.”

“I can, right? And— in return, I can be whatever you need me to be, too.”

Yours — that’s all. All of him.

The arms you finally touch, up to his shoulders, neck and jaw. The soft lips he’s kept parted ever since you started. The mole on his nose, under his mouth, near his jawline. The kiss he shares with you and the hands clamping at your body.

How he fucks you with a passion you’re certain is reserved for nobody in this world but you. You’re selfish like this; you don’t believe anybody loves like that.

It’s all yours; that’s what you need him to be.

You murmur his name repeatedly, and he pecks your neck dryly. Your sounds change as you near the end, feeling a bubbling sensation in your stomach pleading to be released. Impatiently, you lean back, planting your hands to the mattress, face towards the ceiling.

Jungkook uses the position to latch onto your nipples, fucking you harder now, even if not with the same craze as before. He knows your body; he knows it so well. So you’re not surprised, yet gasping when he brings a finger to your clit, hitting and touching the right stops over and over and over again.

Your body winds on top of him as the chaos inside you unfolds, your shoulders sinking, eyes in the back of your head, upper body so fucking weak. And as he massages circles onto your clit, never rough, and murmurs against your jaw, you lose your mind.

“You’re my love. Gorgeous, beautiful sweetheart. I want to see… this every night.”

Doesn’t he know he will all his life? Doesn’t he know you’ve surrendered every piece of you to him?

Fuck. Fuck—

The knot uncoils the moment he utters the last word, voice dulcet and hazy, so loving and breathy. Your arms give out, threatening to let your body fall, and you rush to find an anchor in his shoulders, holding him, embracing him within a second.

Without a single thought ahead, you blurt, “I’ll— I’ll never want anyone but you. Never.”

“You’re all I know, baby,” he responds in kind, holding you the same, a confession between each kiss to your neck, “I love you. D-did you know? I love you. Love you. Love you so much.”

And God, do you love him.

The waves crashing over you are metres-high, and they’re drowning you ocean-deep. Why does this feel new and crushing every single time? He’s helped you experience this a hundred times. Nobody ever has before.

But you never get used to this. Not to how hard your pussy tightens and loosens over and over again, how your body becomes weightless, needing to be kept upright. How your stomach feels much more free, like you’ve gone through an epiphany.

The world sparkles. You feel ridiculous, alone in your head with these thoughts, but you’re above clouds, and the stars sparkle. What the hell…

“H-how much?” you ask, gripping his black hair, dizzy.

“You cannot ask me. I have no fucking idea,” he curses, “I wish I could measure it, you see? Wish I could show you better. Tell you. Write it in a book.”

You’re fond of books; but he doesn’t know there’s no need for him to create a story, because he’s one himself. Isn’t he? A chapter after another.

He lifts your face from his shoulder, making you look at him. Pushes your hair back, his stare fond. Crashes his lips against yours again before it’s his turn to let go.

Affected by your contractions, he moans against your cheek, closing his eyes before he’s shooting all that he kept back into you. Hot, wet and sticky, loads of it, requiring multiple pumps until he’s drained.

Then, falls back against the railing with you in tow, hiding in your chest as you keep him close to your heart. You touch his tresses, caressing his scalp, matching his breathing until your bodies wind down.

It takes endless minutes in each other’s arms until the burning sensation all over your skin diminishes.

The room has grown darker now, candles burned halfway through. When you allow yourself a glimpse of him, the shadows are dancing across his features, hiding half his face. The light is so faint where it hits him, a gorgeous weak golden that still doesn’t do his own teint justice.

You can’t believe you get to keep this for a lifetime. That this is the very being you have the honour to wake up next to every single morning. That you’re the only one holding his heart, and that he’s the only one matching your soul.

Is this what it means to share everything with someone? To indulge in something far greater than love.

Which… reminds you…

“Jungkook,” you call, and he hums quietly, smiling through it. Eyelids falling, he listens as you ask, “Kook, do you think I feel— or look different?”

There’s a pause in your hushed conversation, a rise of eyebrows. If he wasn’t so tired, he’d sound a lot more concerned, you reckon. Immediately question your thoughts.

Instead, he sounds weaker, yet confused when he mutters, “…Why?”

“Do I?”

Another break in thought. This time to take you in. To lean in just a little, regard you carefully, to let his eyes drag over your being to detect the change you speak of.

But maybe…

“I think you were quieter these days. In thoughts? I assumed it was the Jung thing. But,” he eventually says, “responsibilities didn’t allow me to be around much either. Did I… miss something?”

Were you quieter? Possibly.

Saying you were trapped in your thoughts is an understatement; if he’s figured something out without being around, it’s this much. The utter truth, a successful deduction. But was it the Hoseok rumours?

You can’t yet say for sure. So you choose to not say anything at all.

Only, “That might be it.”

“Other than that, however…” he speaks, moving with a grunt. The hands on your hips are gentle as they instruct you to get up; and unbothered by the seed soon flowing out, he urges you to your back, face soon levitating above you. “You’re still the same.”

A creature of habit, he wipes the drying locks out of your face, kissing the tip of your nose. You’re almost entirely sure that you look like a proper mess — but it’s impossible to not believe him when he claims, “Still the same beautiful woman I fell in love with two years ago.” Another kiss to your eyelid. “Stunning darling.”

“Are you still in love with me the same?”

“No,” he immediately blurts, and if you didn’t know him so well, you’d panic, “of course never the same. Always a little more.”

“Mmmh. And I love you.” You touch the smooth surface of his back, drawing figures over the defined muscles. “So. Does this prove that I wouldn’t run away with some lord?”

He puts on the act of a thinker, purposely teasing you until you hit his bicep. Then, “Yes. But does it prove you won’t run away with a stable boy?”

“…I hate you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The laugh he emits is genuine, so different from the troubled voice you heard less than an hour ago. His old jesting self, he refers to your awkward idea before, mentioning, “I know. You surely got that across tonight. And oh, how you kept looking at me. Pure hatre—”

“Shut up. I gave myself to you tonight or you would’ve begged and whimpered—”

“Oh? How so? Tied me up, hm?” he mocks, fingers cautiously following the veins of your arms before he’s caught your wrists again. He lifts them over your head, trapping you again. “Like this?”

You laugh as his lips trace your neck, the tickling sensation not quite the same as the lust spreading before. Helplessly, you surrender, begging, “Alright. Okay. I apologise for saying that! If you keep going, I will be crawling tomorrow.”

“Is that so bad? Not having to tend to so many things?”

“You’d make it worth it, I’m certain.”

He lets you go the very next moment, sighing before he asks, “Do you feel alright? I was worried about going overboard.”

“No, I am more than alright. Dog-tired but… this was perfect. I am a little happy you got jealous. Do you feel better, too?”

“I feel extraordinarily well.” He keeps his mouth open, pondering on saying more, but as you see his mind whir, you reckon another thought has replaced his previous statement. “I was not jealous. Merely worried.”

“…You yourself have said you are a jealous man.”

“Have you got any evidence? I thought so.” Another snicker in a joyous night, setting the mood for your dreams. “But. You are loved by many, and I admire you for that. And objectively I know I will always love you the most, but… it’s scary.”

“Ah… what is, Kook?”

“Knowing that somebody might want to overtake me. To try better or make you reconsider.”

“They couldn’t. I do not have to tell you… you know me and you know I will be here.”

“Good. I know,” he assures, countless infinitesimal sparkles of yearning in his eyes. They glow even in the shadows of candlelight, even without flames. “I really want this with you.”

“What is that?”

“…Everything.”

Everything.

His thoughts are a repetition of your own. A confession of a forever. Which is why you understand so well what he means, not a single explanation necessary. Because you want it all, too.

Of all the facts existing in your realm and universe, this remains one that you could never doubt. And you’re trying to provide him with the same amount of everything, as well. You are.

Which is why the thought of disappointing him is so unbearable for the time being.

So for now, you’d rather avoid it by keeping your mouth shut just for a little longer.

For all the longing touches revealed last night, Jungkook was certain he’d meet a glowing face the next morning. Sparkly, familiar eyes, taking in all hallways despite already knowing them so well, pointing out a new detail each time as you love to do.

For all the affection revealed last night, he was sure he’d eliminated all doubts and sorrows, every piece of thought and afterthought left of the conversation about other lords and past love.

In such a sense, he finds himself cheerful in his office the following day, enduring the staff’s playful ridicules. Grateful about the comfortable atmosphere, the lightness of the morning. His humour runs off the charts and he catches himself snickering about his own jokes.

You left him bright at least. Hopeful and joyful, with a heart filled with so much love and craze that is barely comprehensible for a mortal mind.

When you stroll into his office with your hands folded, his dark gems glitter, lights dancing in his pupils. He didn’t see much of you yet, despite from the tiny moment he left you sleeping in bed, kissing your shoulder and removing the lock off your face.

Tending to his duties, only torn away from you when he was urged to do so.

“Good morning,” you say in your sweetest voice, so small and soft.

And he hears the alteration in your words, so vastly different from last night. But your eyes look somewhat swollen, sleep still apparent in them, so it’s easy to give into the first instinct and blame a short night for your fatigue.

“Good morning, my love,” he responds, silencing as he nears your body, tenderly aligning your fingers and raising yours to his mouth.

As he kisses every knuckle, you ask, “Working so early?”

“Did not choose to,” he murmurs in between pecks. He concludes the gesture with rubbing a thumb ever-so-gently against the back of your hand before he leads your palm to his face. “I can come back to you any moment, though.”

You smile, but the blinking of your eyes is slow, and your reserved stance grows. He finds it odd when you hesitate, but you’re faster than him when you speak, “No, no. I didn’t want to disturb you, please do what you need to do.”

“Then… keep me company?”

“I will, but later, yes? I was thinking of a brief outing.”

It’s not unusual for you to seek fresh air or promenade along a nearby waterfront. Ever since you left town, you’ve grown even fonder of nature. The blossoming flowers, the sun, the summer rain and the rainbows afterwards match your energy.

But your usual light is missing; you don’t look quite downcast, but moreso worried about something. Your chest rises a bit too hard when you breathe in, and the nerves burn hotter when he asks, “Where to?”

“Just nearby. Picking flowers.”

Maybe he’s thinking about it too hard. Maybe you’re honestly just drowsy and opting for the crisp air, hoping for it to clear your mind. And maybe your demeanour will have changed by the time you return.

Might at least just be worth the wait, right?

So he doesn’t intervene with your thoughts, merely nodding. He leans into your tender palm, still resting on his warm cheek, and presses a careful kiss into it, as though a mistake could make you run away.

“Sure,” he concurs at last, “rush back to me. And show me the flowers you collect, alright?”

Which you don’t really oblige to, keeping a safe distance from his yearning, worried heart for an hour or two.

It becomes increasingly difficult to focus on work with you away; inquiring about you doesn’t do much, because how could the staff within these walls know more than he does? Would you confide in them but not in him?

Are you afraid of something?

When the attention drifts off his work eventually and his gaze keeps switching to the view out the window, to a path that you might be walking, he plummets into his chair. Waits. Fiddling.

“Dojoon,” he calls, immediately met with a guard outside the room, speaking to the stiff, polite form, “has my wife returned yet? Have you seen Aza around?”

Denying his lord’s questions, Dojoon shakes his head, causing Jungkook’s chest to deflate, and informs him that no, he has neither noticed the presence of you nor of your chaperone.

Fitting, a timing so appropriate, because the guard has only nearly finished his sentence and increased Jungkook’s concerns when footsteps echo through the hallway outside. Jungkook cranes his neck momentarily, hoping for an end to his perturbation.

And at last, some deity seems to have heard his prayers, even if, in hindsight, he knows he’ll probably have nothing to worry about. You’ve been away for longer, albeit usually announcing your departure more cheerily and with less uncertainty.

Which, to his pleasure, doesn’t torture your expressions as much anymore as you finally enter the room. The hands are still folded, a shawl wrapped around your back and gracefully falling over your arms.

You’re always so pretty; so stunning that he nearly forgets the issue on hand.

That your folded fingers don’t carry anything.

Which is not too suspicious, it shouldn’t be. You might have handed the flowers to somebody, might have hastened back into his room without thinking of his prior request.

But his paranoid mind has been wreaking havoc lately, and he hates, hates, hates it — yet, can’t stop it.

So he despises the feeling in his chest when he asks, “Where are the flowers?”

“I…” you unfold your hands, inspecting your fingers as if you forgot they were vacant of said bloom. “Staff took them.”

Of course. That’s the most logical option, one he considered. So why…

He inches closer to you, nodding towards Dojoon and signalling for him to leave. As the guard exits right away, Jungkook lightly touches a strand of your hair, tucking it back as he so gently wonders, “Where did you go, baby?”

“Just out for a while. I told you before.”

“But…” You swallow as he talks, nervous about something and suddenly fidgeting with your way too warm cashmere shawl. Only looking up when he breaks his barriers and asks, “What’s the matter?”

“What?”

“I do not know. You tell me. What’s the matter? Is it because of something we said last night? Or because of…”

There. He said it. Stupid unease that might prove wrong and oh-so-utterly and truly stupid soon.

Of course he’s had this in his mind. But somehow, he’s started to wonder… do you feel okay? Are you ill?

“What?” you echo, shaking your head. “No. What are you saying—”

“Something must be bothering you, I reckon, and you…”

“No, I think I just,” you start, pausing, tonguing your cheek until you turn your body a little. Almost facing the door. “I probably only need more rest. I feel tired and you wore me out so much, you see—”

It’s meant as a joke, and he’s sure he even recognises a smile — but the mood won’t allow for otherwise very welcome jests. Before you can even reach for the door handle, he places a flat hand on the surface of the door, ensuring that Dojoon didn’t leave it ajar even a tiny gap.

Half caged in, you look at him in disbelief, lips slightly parted as you say, “Won’t you let me go out?”

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” The genuine distress in his expression hurts you; just because you’re so fearful of disappointing him, or putting him under more anxiety. No reason, no reason. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You want to. It’s just — he’s been forlorn before. You’ve seen his lows and seen the reasons for it. Waded through parts of his pain with him. The news you want to deliver are merry and colossal, but you don’t know if he’s ready.

And fuck. You’re taking too long to answer, aren’t you?

You are. You see it in his eyes. How they start to burn, how frustration grows so apparent in them. Never replacing the care and worries, but certainly furrowing his eyebrows the way he often does when irritated.

“What’s troubling you?” he tries again, keeping himself from snarling. “Where did you go? Did you… did you see him somewhere? I apologise if I said or did something wrong last night. If I hurt you.”

Keeping himself from snapping. Because your eyes are so big, and your stare so innocent and you look so concerned for him rather than for yourself, and… and…

Other than every reason in this universe, he can’t bear to be mad at you.

“Hm?” he voices.

“No,” you finally reveal, “it’s not him at all.”

“I know… Of course I know. But what is it?”

You blow out air. “I am…”

“Yes,” he interjects when your pause proves longer than a moment, “are you ill? Oh goodness, this is nerve-wracking. I think I might fai—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, both hands dashing to his arms. He’s out of breath, unfiltered craze in his eyes, as if expecting the worst. So you free him of his misery, taking a deep breath, and then, outrightly, reveal, “I’m expecting.”

…The world stills.

You hear it and you feel it; are certain that all movement has ceased, that the birds have halted mid-flight. That the wind has ebbed down. That the people down in the village have frozen in whatever state they were in before.

Selfishly, you believe that the centre of the world has shifted from the sun to right where you’re standing, right where the love of your life has paused. Where he’s looking at you and you only, barely blinking, out of words, lungs as dry as yours.

“My lo—” you start at the same time as he mumbles, “What?”

So you speak on, “I have not been bleeding. I went to consult the doctor and—”

“Outside? Where?” he asks, the memory and logic in his mind so disrupted that he finds himself in a state of utter bafflement and insanity. “Why didn’t you go to the mansion’s—”

“He went to his family for the week. Do you remember?”

“Right… right. What did you… You just went?”

You nod. “Spoke to him about all the things I have been experiencing and he’s certain those are all signs for me expecting… it seems.”

“…You didn’t tell me.”

“Because I wasn’t sure. And I… I know how much this scares you, so I didn’t want to stir chaos in case it turned out to be nothing.”

Which is a truth you weren’t sure you’d be able to spell out. Jungkook has wanted children; he has mentioned it on several occasions. But ever since you fathomed his deepest fears, laying in a fatherless past and a sorrowful childhood, you’ve been careful.

He’s affected. He always has been. And perhaps you’ll see glimpses of those very worries the more your pregnancy advances; let’s see.

For now, however, they don’t seem to roam his mind.

Instead, he shakes his head, hints of an expression creeping onto his face that you know too well. The first sign of approaching tears; of a swelling heart. Of love growing so fondly and fast that it overflows.

Every single tongue-tied reaction gathers in eventual words when he summarises, “I barely know what to say.” And right there it is; underneath his eye, on the apple of his cheek. One single tear. And with it, a breaking voice. “I do not know what to say.”

But he knows what to do. And what he does is tilt his head, sighing into the stuffy air of the office, not bothering to wipe away the tears — and you can’t either as he grips your hands. Smushes them in his. Calls forth your own liquid affection, blurring your vision.

And then you’re pulled off your spot, crushed in a long-overdue embrace. Before you know it, you’re safely secured in his arms, one a snake around your body, the other hand holding the back of your head as if you could disappear.

He hides his lips in your hair, still not able to put his thoughts into words. But he cries silently against you, leftover panic subsiding and giving way to raw sentiments.

“Jung— kook—” you hiccup, and he shakes his head, possibly keeping you from sobbing; yet, not faring better. “I apologise for— for keeping it from y—”

“No. No, you…” he takes a deep breath, and you know without looking that he’s closing his eyes. Putting his chin on top of your head. “You’re the only one who’s ever cared like this. And shielded me like this. How do you care so much? No, I know. Because I do, too…”

His words turn into a murmur, and he swallows a syllable or two, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his heart, and it speaks volumes without him needing to.

You could cry all your life. And you could love all your life.

“So,” he adds, “we are finally growing, yes? You and I and another. The only another we need, right? Fuck the rest of the world.”

You nod against his chest with a broken laugh, palms wandering further up from the small of his back, and you try to hold him as tight as he’s holding you.

There is no need for words and confessions anymore. There is no need for anything at all; just this very thing. And this very touch. These tender sounds of your sobs, ongoing until they turn into a light and quiet mingling of smiles and tear-filled laughter.

“I promise to you,” Jungkook finally says after a minute, his voice calmer, steadier, “I will do anything. Everything.”

Pause. Waiting to collect his thoughts. All those of lords and kings knocked out within a moment.

And then—

“I will do so much better.”

Over the course of the one year you have spent within the same walls as your husband, you haven’t just learned how to share the same home but the same habits, too.

Some are deliberate — reading the Friday newspaper together in the morning; craving eggs on Saturdays; taking walks to wind down from the week on Sundays. They have become a reflex; unspoken activities you indulge in without the other pointing them out anymore.

Others developed accidentally — like, unconsciously counting the windows you pass in the long hallways, because you caught him doing it before. Or, not being able to sleep well unless you have bid each other a good night. Or — in such a case, seeking each other out once the other side of the bed feels too cold.

It’s not rare for Jungkook, who’s still learning to handle responsibilities, to overwork himself deep into the night. At times, you find him at the edge of the bed, still reading a document. On other days, you tap blindly along the walls of the mansion, meeting him in the library.

Tonight, it’s neither.

The place looks eerie, somewhat haunted in the dark. Still adjusting to the darkness, you stroll from room to room idly, trying to make out a light, or a shadow, a sighting of the man you woke up without.

It must be late; or incredibly early. You can’t say when he awoke and skulked off; the sky is still pitch black outside, but sunrise might break in soon.

A few minutes later, akin to an eternity, you finally push the unlocked door to the study, lit by faint flames. Jungkook flinches when it squeaks open and you step in with featherlight steps. He nearly throws the book into the air, catching it as it threatens to slide off his knee.

The gentle heart only calms once it recognises you, taking a deep, shuddering breath in. He isn’t angry; rather delighted to see your figure standing in the dark, in a long, white nightgown and big, worried eyes.

As much as he’s able to perceive from his spot, you look relieved, fingers fiddling, and he doesn’t think he could love anybody more than you, ever. Not when you’re here steering towards your goal, obviously having scoured the mansion to find him.

“You’re so light on your feet, love,” he faux-complains, tutting, “thought you were a ghost.”

“Oh. A pretty ghost?”

“One I’d let haunt me any day.”

You let out a gentle laugh, stepping closer until you’re towering over him, “They say one glows when with child.”

“If you glow any more, then…” he whispers as you take a careful seat on his lap, simultaneously securing you there with an arm and covering his eyes. Charading being blinded by the light.

How dramatic.

Shaking your head, you take a look down to his fingers, following his touch until you’ve opened the shut book to the page his thumb serves as a bookmark for. The cover isn’t particularly telling, a mere title on it too small to read.

The chapter he was reading is an advanced one, the page starting in the middle of an ongoing sentence. but as most stories beloved to dreamy poets go, kindness prevailed in the end.

You don’t ask for the content right away; rather, you wonder, “Jungkook, why are you still up? And here of all places.”

The golden candlelight highlights the fatigue in his eyes — but it makes his heart-stirring smile evident, too. A note of pride resonates in his voice as he lifts the book, holding it towards you as if that doesn’t worsen the lighting drastically.

“It has lullabies and bedtime stories,” he says. You lean in, staring at the right page, and recognise colourful, faded illustrations. “Father used to read them to me. I remember how they shaped me, so I— I wanted to practice, too.”

No matter how many arrows Cupid shoots into your heart, Jungkook always seems to outdo the beneficent god. He’s diligent in watering and growing the affection in you. Tending to your heart — just like that, effortlessly.

Despite your tired mind, your emotions are on overdrive; because of your tired mind, you, in the tone of a statement, repeat, “You were preparing.”

“Is that odd?” he immediately blurts, a little too loud for the room. When you shake your head in denial, he nods in comfort. “I was afraid I was doing too much. This book helped. There is another one on parenting, but,” he reaches for his desk with a groan, putting another, smaller piece on top of the other one, “but I feel like this advice is a given. Look.”

He flips through the pages, halting at one that outlines tips and tricks in imperatives. The first you lay eyes on is already one that proves his point, odd as you read aloud, "An affectionate household works wonders upon a young mind. Remember to, uh— cultivate a serene and harmonious family atmosphere!"

“Fair enough, is it not?” Jungkook jests, shutting the book again.

The smile he flashes, the one you never hesitate to join is a peculiar one. Utterly sweet, undeniably handsome; yet, strange, considering the history the two of you share.

You wonder once again.

When did he become this tender? The boy you knew, smirking so slyly, evil words shot towards you in a group of fellow pals — none of the damaging energy remains today. Today… sitting on this very lap, going into raptures.

Carrying his child.

Then again, people change, but never thoroughly. A basic foundation, the core that one is made of always healthily and steadily remains. Jungkook’s traits, the ones you have learned to love and cherish, were always part of him.

He just needed an outlet. Somebody to practise them on; a lifelong companion to pour the softness onto.

And things never end there. No, they go on and on, a flood of sparkly emotions. Like, when he gets into a more casual conversation now, never quite realising that his little statements are pulling you above clouds.

”I asked some of the staff about their experience with their children. Did you know some of them have young toddlers themselves?”

”Mihee gave me a list of things to be careful about once birth comes around. It sounds painful, darling. You can do it, right?”

”You can. I’ll be there, too. You can certainly do it better than I will, possibly.”

He tells you he has been working a little less these days; having struggles forming a clear thought. Informs you about his spontaneous and perhaps too early decision of planting a tree just for the child. Explains to you how to not hold a baby, the information courtesy of Mihee.

And then, he kisses your forehead, sucking in a breath as if shivering. He adjusts for a moment, never pushing you off his lap, and then eventually, quietly, admits, “It is so frightening, as well, though, isn’t it?”

“Hm?”

“This… this whole thing.” You gaze at him with gentle worry, suspecting what’s to come, but he misinterprets it for doubt. “I am not anyhow indicating that I don’t want this. Not at all. I wouldn’t want it with anyone but you.”

You nod understandingly, clarifying that you never assumed such. But he continues, “Still, I can’t help but wonder how well I will do.”

You could tell him that it’s a valid and often occurring worry. That no parent-to-be will ever dive into this with full confidence and a pure lack of insecurities. But you know why he’s saying this.

Not everyone has a dead father. Not everyone deals with an abusive household growing up. And not everyone was fed with doubts and deep-rooted issues that provoke such hesitant thoughts.

“Is that why you are reading books on parenting, my love?” you inquire, speaking slowly.

“I would guess so,” he answers, “I want to be there. I’d hate it if I had to leave… you never know what might happen, you know? Or maybe, if I was here, yet tried too hard and then failed in the process—”

“First of all,” you interrupt, “do not make me imagine a life without you. Second of all… we are thinking about it in such a theory. I reckon that… once you hold someone in your arms,” you put your head onto his, keeping him close, the free hand seeking his, “it feels more natural. Love happens naturally.”

“Does it? I have never been a father before.”

You chuckle, “So I hope! But. What was it like to love me? A process? Progress? Were you scared of loving me?”

“I was.” The answer is unexpected. Then again, it’s not. Certainly rapid, though. “You’re an unstoppable force. Of course it is scary to love you. What if one messes up? That’s nothing that can be forgiven.”

“You always speak too highly of me.”

“I am not blinded. I see it clearly and I mean every word. Loving you was frightening, but it developed…” He removes his touch from your fingers, instead tracing up the skin of your arm until his digits skim your elbow; echoing, “Naturally.”

“Mmmh. And does it ever feel like you’re trying too hard?”

“No. You’re right, it doesn’t. It just happens.”

“So,” you whisper, “who’s to say this will be different? And to tell you a secret: You’re doing so amazing loving me. If you can give this one the same amount as you give me, we will be fine.”

He hums, nodding instantly. This must boost his confidence.

He’d be a fool to ever doubt the sentiments he houses for you. He knows he loves you well, because he regards you as worth it. Because he vowed to provide to you what you deserve; the intensity of that adoration will never be subject to confusion.

“I will share another secret with you,” you clear your throat, shifting. “Can you imagine how terrifying it can be for a woman to leave home after so long? How, considering the role of the woman, the thought of living with a man can be intimidating?”

Jungkook’s head sinks in thought. Big eyes fixate on a random spot and a plump, rosy lower lip curls outward, pouting. Another hum before he does a head tilt and confesses, “I haven’t thought about it yet. But… if I had a daughter and she left, I would be scared to death for her well-being.”

“Yes. And she would be, as well. It can be difficult. But to tell you something… Despite my fears and the adjustments I needed to make here, I didn’t fear for my well-being. I knew you’d take good care of me.”

You swallow, sighing when he leans in, lips close to your chest, “And if this is what you consider your nature, Jungkook… Then I do not think you have to worry about anything.”

“Hmmm. This makes so much sense. You are such a bright woman, did you know?” he says, rubbing your arm, then your back. Buries his face in your breasts; his voice vibrates against you as he speaks, “You are everything good. And incredibly smart.”

That’s what he’s saying. The true feelings run much deeper than that; you understand.

The sudden affection that washes over one on the best days. When it overwhelms the senses and dips the air in vibrant shades of pink. Feelings of invincibility and eternal happiness.

Yet, hard, or even impossible, to grasp into appropriate sentences. What Jungkook is doing is merely spitting the most harmless of his love confessions, because his true thoughts cannot be constellated into actual words.

“I love you. I do love you. So, so much,” he mutters, scattered kisses between words a habit now, “and I want to take care of you forever. I will bring you tea. And carry you to bed. I will even cook for you, I do not care about the intensity of effort…”

He’s said that before — delivering whatever you crave, whenever you crave it. To your surprise, the royal you thought spoiled previously has a knack for bringing delicious creations to the table. You know because he gets bored sometimes. Takes some work off the staff’s overworked shoulders.

“Speaking of,” he soon inquires, just as you foresaw, “are you hungry? Are you eating well? We should sneak into the kitchen.”

You shake your head immediately, telling him that eating before sleep does not do well to the stomach. Tell him that it is far too late to hide in the corners of the mansion the way you hid around town when engaged.

That now, it might be much easier to stroll back into your room. Slip under the covers. Smile and talk and drift into sleep.

And you promise that you’re already well fed as long as he fills you with the care your dreamy youth would always read about.

But the clouds you float above dissipate and drop your body into a fall, from heaven to absolute hell.

You’re not sure what you expected from this entire affair; perhaps you should’ve known that carrying and leading a full human being into the world wouldn’t occur so blissfully as the pregnancy itself was. And yes — compared to this, the pregnancy was a bed of roses, no matter how often you whined.

Damn the society around you. The only knowledge you had of this moment came from the few books Jungkook brought you every now and then, his gentle warnings that this might hurt, and the brief conversations you had with your mother about the existence of people.

One or two comments from your doctor here and there.

Oh, it will be all good!

But that’s it, isn’t it? Women do not get informed properly; you do not fully understand the concept of such things until they finally roll around.

And the day you wake up once again with the highest expectations, you finally speak those hopes into existence. As you walk up the stairs shortly after dinner, you feel a liquid drain your legs; confused until your stomach so agonisingly twists.

A punch to your guts.

The moment it happens, your heartbeat accelerates, its sound echoing in your ears — for the very first second, you fear the worst. Did something go wrong? Is something bad happening?

But it doesn’t seem the case, because the tumult around you suggests otherwise entirely: the royal mansion breaks into an immediate excited bustle. You don’t know how they do it, but word spreads like a wildfire.

As soon as the world starts spinning and you let out one or two groans, slowly turning into yelps of pain, you’re escorted to the empty bedroom. Barely minutes later, you’re accompanied by the doctor residing in your mansion these days.

Jungkook’s doing.

Ordered the physician Sang and the midwife Yumi — yes, both — to spend their days here because this is the time they predicted for the baby to arrive at. Nine months… plus, minus a couple days.

The skies have darkened and the seasons changed. It’s colder now, but you feel hot, tortured by your body temperature as staff members drape more blankets over your body, comfortable pillows under you, water and cloths beside you.

And among the blurring faces you perceive under the growing pain, you don’t see his.

Not now; not a couple minutes later; not even more than half an hour has passed. Have they not informed him? He went out for a stroll, but he couldn’t have gone this far.

Your pleas were whispers before, asking for him, yet somewhat ignored, as if you never uttered them at all. So when the light contractions turn moderate, threatening to worsen over time, you raise your voice, “Where’s my husband?! Are you being serious? Get him o—”

“Lady Jeon,” Yumi calmly starts; your possibly irritated mind perceives the probably neutral tone as condescending, and as such, your title makes you internally cringe. “We cannot.”

“What?”

“Husbands aren’t allowed at childbirth. But—”

“What?!” you repeat, rage redirected from the pain to the person only trying to help. You’ll feel guilty later, you know. “This is his child, too. He’s a goddamn part of th—”

The blunt curses are unlike you, and your brain understands; they understand, too, because they have seen and appreciated your true nature for the past few days. Maybe that’s why they don’t take your outbursts too personally; or maybe because they have done this before.

And you know, you know that whatever bond you share with Jungkook, you probably can’t breach society’s rules and the things it deems inappropriate. You weren’t aware that he wasn’t allowed in here; the books didn’t teach you that.

But you should’ve known.

“The Lord will be with you the moment this is over,” Sang promises, preparing whatever he needs to. You’re barely looking, only praying to the ceiling. “He won’t miss a moment with his child. Now, listen to what I say.”

You do. You are.

It just gets so hard with time; the pauses between the contractions seem to shorten and then they vanish. The intensity grows, each time a little more than before; and every other minute, you’re sure you’ve reached the peak, but you never have.

Then, everything starts spinning, your skin soaked in sweat and the little one moving inside, your vision blurring… have hours passed already?

You don’t know. You don’t care — you want this to be over.

But the warm liquid between your thighs, the urge to push, along with the midwife’s words and reassurances, indicate that you’re almost there.

And that’s when it happens. Not the end of it all. Not the appearance of whoever you’ve been anticipating for so long.

But the aggressive thump at the door, repeated and rapid. It hurls your heart from your chest into your throat, your breathing a little more arhythmic than before and you nearly cannot imagine who might be provoking chaos so close to the end.

Then again, could it truly be such a surprise?

Because when the door opens a slit, a familiar face peeking, something in you stirs so hard that you nearly jump into a standing position, pain be damned. Adrenaline rushes through you as a hand pushes you back again; you must’ve risen a couple inches, calling a name.

“You can at least tell me how she is,” Jungkook’s shaky voice inquires near the door, louder than he probably intends. His words are filled with anxiety, and you know he cried before. “I deserve to know.”

Sang hesitates; even in such an advanced state, you still hear his composed words, as calm as he’s been taught to be. “She’s been bleeding a little. We are, however, taking care of it.”

“…What is a little?”

“Bleeding is a common occurrence. It’s just…” The man clearly leans in, because you hear him a bit worse now, yet well enough to understand why your thighs feel so oddly wet and warm, and you so weak. “Somewhat more than it should be. But she’s nearly done, so it’ll be—”

“No,” Jungkook resists, “this is unspeakably stupid.”

Not the man speaking to him, and not anything about what you’re going through, what so many women a day must be going through.

But the distance — you know. And when you move your head towards the open door, meeting his eyes at just the right moment, almost hidden behind Sang’s figure, they widen. Once again, you know why.

Because he’s snapped.

“Jungkook—” you murmur, and it’s enough.

With a combination of impatient aggression and respectful care for the physician, he pushes past the arm blocking the entry to his own bedroom. Someone in the room catches onto Jungkook’s sleeve, but he shakes it off without ever averting his gaze from you.

Yumi follows her responsibilities without a moment of hesitation, nearly leaning over your body as she warns somewhat shyly even, “You are not allowed to be here, I apologise, but…”

But her message is sharply cut in the air before it even reaches Jungkook, because he finally breaks eye contact with you, instead redirecting the flaming pupils towards her.

You don’t see much else than the bottom of his jaw, but you’ve seen the stare before.

When he manages a business that irritates him. When he gets into a rare but bad argument with you. You saw it when he met his teasing friends again, way after your engagement, ready to mock you. And when he faced the idiocy his uncle committed.

Intimidated, Yumi leans back, nodding just once, probably accepting that should whatever myth about childbirth come to life, it’d be your problem. But Jungkook has always been careful; doesn’t believe in the warnings of infections and other unspeakable things that apparently occur when the husband joins the birthing process.

“You are almost ready to push. Just a bit more,” she informs you instead, taking her place at the end of the bed, taking a glimpse under the blanket over your legs.

You feel it, too. Your body is telling you to.

“This is so stupid,” Jungkook repeats, taking a seat on the chair shoved behind him. His hands seek out yours, clutching it immediately. “Hours of waiting and hoping you’re alright? Incredibly dumb, isn’t it?”

“I know,” you say, faintly nodding, only noticing how much you’re crying when he wipes away a stray tear, “I told them. It’s taking so long, Jungkook…”

“Yes, I figured it might, but… but,” he starts, waterline shimmering, bangs already damp — where did he run from to you? “It will be over and so worth it.”

“Read it in… a book?” He nods, and you chuckle as much as possible. “You’ve been reading so much.”

“More than ever! I have never read so many books before, you know?” He sniffles. “And still nothing prepared me. Do you know what happened, darling?”

He’s fighting tears until he can’t. A single one rolls down his cheek and over his mouth, his smile remaining intact, even if somewhat damaged by the profuse emotions. His lower lip trembles like yours.

You’re in no mindset to answer, but his voice, his words, his touch soothe your heart. Lessen the pain, even though in reality and in theory, they don’t.

How does any woman do this without her beloved?

“Two hours in, and I fainted.”

Immediately, your eyes shoot open, your fingers squeezing his, but before you can utter your worries, he shakes his head and continues, “They kept me in there and guarded me like a child. I was scheming how to escape… climbing out the window.”

He smiles when you laugh again, sniffling again, and concludes, “Then they told me they had heard you were struggling and that you were screaming more often. And the room was so hot, as well — it is winter, for Heaven’s sake! And I just…”

Shaking his head, he emphasises the embarrassment of the moment, aware that you cannot talk much, but guiding you through it nevertheless. Speaking his mouth wound, “You’re the one doing this. I did nothing.”

“You did,” you manage, “it is not the same, but you were there.”

“I was there. But you’re doing this, yet I fainted. I would’ve been with you so much earli—”

His soft conversation is soon interrupted when you scream again, your chin quivering, head thrown back when another excruciating contraction catapults you almost into unconsciousness.

Somebody wipes the sweat off your hot forehead for the millionth time, and finally, finally, you feel something happening.

But Jungkook can’t contain his concerns, an observer who can’t feel any of this, only seeing the love of his life sobbing, yelling, squeezing her eyes shut until they hurt. You hear him ask, “What?”

“Just… blood,” Yumi’s voice answers at the same moment as another pair of hands start massaging your stomach for whatever reason, “just…”

“Is that bad?” Jungkook wants to know, out of breath.

“It’s not great, but it won’t be fatal.”

“What? Is she…” He stops for a second, and you see him looking at you through half-lidded eyes, then back at the headless body, covered by the blanket, “God. Then do something!”

You rub a thumb over the back of his hand, fully breathless, already feeling veins pop as you push. And once more. Then say, “It’s alright. It…it will be alright.”

“I should be telling you that! Is that why they mock men? Huh?” He looks back and forth, and you want to laugh, barely managing to listen as you focus on the pushes. You hear his words faintly, but they help. “I am guessing you are feeling it quite a bit as opposed to me, yes?”

You’re crying harder when you shut your eyes again, back arching, yelling out sarcastic words, “No! N–not feeling a thing!”

Your upper body is killing you. The pressure is unbearable, the sensation burning. Through it all, as you near the finishing line, wishing to skip these minutes, he keeps encouraging, “This is so amazing. Just a little more. Almost… almost do—”

The last word is swallowed, quiet, barely spoken. Maybe because his voice is breaking, too. But maybe, because it’s interrupted by another, much shriller cry of change. Entering a world so new is surely scary.

Somebody knows it even better than you, because the first ever sounds of the baby once it finally emerges heal and break your heart. How can that be? You haven’t even touched it yet.

Then, how are you already caught by such an… odd feeling? Floating somewhere between reality and a dream, not quite realising that you’re actually hearing the crying. Isn’t a child just what you were a while ago, too?

You remember the moment you first met Jungkook so vividly. In the rain, attempting to soothe his sorrows, trying to figure out what misery had ambushed the disconsolate boy.

You were a child back then, too. That wasn’t long ago, was it? Are you really married to the same being now, sharing your all with yet another existence that is yelling away in this very room?

Overwhelmed by someone you only felt and cherished through your own skin, without ever touching, without ever speaking to it?

“Is it… a girl or a boy?” you want to know.

Jungkook takes a stand, leaving your hand for just a moment, but Yumi and the rest are busy tending to the bloody and fresh child. Wrapping it in a blanket. Holding it carefully. Cutting off the umbilical cord — a relatively young term Jungkook told you about.

“It’s… a girl, Lady Jeon.”

A girl.

Oh God. The father’s beauty. The mother’s wit. A lion-heart and a strong-willed mind. If the two of you are combined, that’s what comes out, doesn’t it?

And all of her, all of what she is is yours. And you’re hers.

Jungkook doesn’t get to inch too close to his flesh and blood, because Yumi turns away; you’re too tired to be angry, albeit a little relieved when she lets you know extra gently, “We’ll just clean her up and get her back to you immediately. You can hold her then.”

You let your arms sink, and Jungkook comes rushing back to you. Instead of grabbing your hand again, he places a palm to your forehead, wiping at it, moving back the hair. The calming gesture helps you wind down, even though you’re nowhere close to being yourself again.

The aftermath of the pain remains, but you’re eternally grateful for the end of the contractions. For the ceasing of your screams. For the temperature coming down, your breathing calming just gradually.

And for—

“Thank you, my love,” you mutter absent-mindedly, noticing when his movements slow down. You’re so dizzy. “For being with me through all this nevertheless. I do not know how they expected me to do it without you.”

“Well… they did not know I read all those books. I mean, you heard it. I’m more or less a certified royal midwife now.”

You can’t help but let out an unexpected snicker, still too exhausted to open both eyes. You crack one of them a split apart, teasing, “My midwife fainted.”

“We have bad days, too. No?”

You hear the actual midwife’s voice jest something in agreement, widening your smile, and state, “Then. In that case, you need to redeem yourself, yes? How— about a crown for our baby?”

When you look at him properly, you see new tears emerge. He’s trying his best not to cry — but with you so close, alive and courageous, and a child weeping away a couple feet from your bed… how could he hold back?

“Well, I was thinking of a nightdress with a tiny crown print. A real crown might be a bit much, don’t you think?”

The counter-jest is already forming on your tongue, something about toys and humility and joy combined into some type of coherent sentence. But as Yumi turns towards you, holding the vulnerable, now calmer baby in her arms so carefully, you lose track of your thoughts.

Even from afar, you hear the tiny sounds. Noises of comfort, remainders of the crying. You see a miniscule hand with petite fingers curling and uncurling before they disappear close to her face, hidden behind the blanket.

You can’t see much more from down here on the bed, sinking into the mattress. You attempt to get up a little, but you still feel faint, taking it step by step until someone from the staff rushes to your side. Helps you sit up.

In that time, Jungkook has already taken upon the offer to hold her first, his stance unbearably and sweetly cautious. As if he’s holding freshly crafted glass. No… much more careful than that.

He draws a breath in, and you see the furrowed eyebrows. The shine in his eyes. How he looks at her with utter, pure, unfiltered, raw affection until he can’t bear it anymore. Averts his gaze for just a second to blink the tears out of his eyes, trying not to let them fall on her face.

His lips remain parted, focusing on breathing, cradling her. You see the knotted ball of a dozen emotions in his stare, each string made of a different sentiment.

Like a fierce protective instinct, surging through him as it does through you. Awe and wonder, marvelling at her delicate features. And a smile, a little laugh, an obvious sign of endless elation. Speechlessness.

Without words, he says—

I’ll keep you safe.

You’re so perfect.

I would die for you.

All summarised in a quiet, “I can’t believe it.”

He’s close to you, and you reach out to him, touching his knee softly with a palm, rubbing until he looks at you. Shooting a curious look, he shakes his head, barely any reason behind, before he says, “She’s curled up. Touching her face.”

“Is she… looking at you?”

“Barely opening her eyes. Just a slit, and… it’s all dark pupils and nothing else, you know? But…” His next breath is shaky, his upper body trembling; the baby with him. You wait patiently, expecting anything but what he says next. “She’s even prettier than you.”

“Shut up,” you immediately blurt, laughter mixed with relief. It’s hard to speak; there’s a clump in your throat. “Yet… it’s so easy to believe you.”

“See?”

He leans in, moving naturally, gracefully, and you widen your arms, ready to welcome her in the first embrace, and once she settles and you get comfortable and lean back again, you realise—

He’s so right.

The slight crack she opened her eyes to. And the small tongue darting out every now and then. A hand on her face, arms close to her body, as if guarding herself. No weight on your arms at all; cheeks that remind you of some fluffy pastry.

You don’t know her yet, but you already know her name. You haven’t spoken to her, but you’ve already internalised the shrill voice. And the face is new to you, but you do already treasure it.

Does she feel the same? It’s crazy… This is crazy.

In theory, you know most newborn babies look similar. You know they sound the same and act the same. You’re aware that they need to be cleaned thoroughly, and that they need to grow into more than this little bundle in your arms.

But, perhaps as a mother, you can’t deny how gorgeous she is.

You already know — already pronounce her the diamond of every season and every year to come.

They say that love opens your eyes to new colours. Unlocks a path to brighter sunrises and clearer nights. They say in every second of loving somebody another star is hung into the sky, shedding more light onto the world.

There’s utter truth to these fairytales and supper anecdotes; but they never quite mention how draining a life as a mother can be, too.

That it’d be torture to your once bright mind; that you’d wake up in pain and beg for sleep and never quite receive it. That you’d realise how mean your mind could be to you after experiencing such heart-shattering worship the moment you saw her first.

The nights are difficult, but Jungkook exerts an effort equal to yours. You’re grateful when he takes a few days off as needed. Constantly shows his appreciation for your hard work and refuses to let you do this alone.

And you both agreed. You want the nanny to interfere as little as possible; want to keep the child’s attention glued to you for the most part, but with a balance that allows her to never shy away from other people, either.

Like, when your and Jungkook’s family visited a while ago; not once did you feel like she couldn’t handle a moment without you. Was switched from one hold to another, moving towards whoever was ready to provide affection.

She’s a social butterfly. Doesn’t fear strangers. But you still help her familiarise herself with you, independent from a nanny who’d enable more of your time to yourself, but less time with your baby.

And neither you nor Jungkook urges for that distance.

It’s never easy.

You’ve cried more often than your fingers can count, on your last legs as you wept into Jungkook’s clothes. Feeling a palm wiping at your tears a dozen times. Motherhood always sounded so gorgeous, but it hurts, too.

Then again…

See, then again, it’s easy to circle back to the metaphor of the sun and the stars, the fresh start to your life that cannot be replaced by any other experience. A million little moments that wrap you into your own bubble. The three of you and nobody else.

They render each of those troubles worthless; you cherish them with an unspeakable vigour, aiding yourself as your exhaustion fades once faced with warm, sunlit afternoons as today’s.

Jungkook offered to watch over her as you wallowed in the breeze and the walk you desired for so long. It’s been too long since you enjoyed the miles outside; steep hills and green fields, accompanied by the sound of birds you yet need to study.

Then down to the village, then another stroll back up again. You sought out tranquil moments, escaping your chores. But when you come back, nothing compares to the sight that meets you.

Damn all these walks.

Because only a fool could resist such an image of your husband lying on your bed, on his back and with his legs crossed, head facing sideways and away from the window. Away from the descending sun. Suhana sprawled right on his upper body. Cheek above his heartbeat, her fingers on Jungkook’s sharp jaw.

A pocket-sized hand holding him close to her.

His proportionally large palms rest on her back and under her little butt, both of them dozing peacefully. She moves with him as his chest rises, but she looks so undeniably at peace — as if there’s no better heaven. And mouth open, like no thunder could wake her.

Suhana’s bangs have grown longer now, hair covering some of the nape of her neck and her forehead. Her lips are rosy; the same shape as his. Even if reluctantly, you have to admit that she looks a lot like him.

You act offended when people remind you of that. Because you vehemently claim you want to see more of yourself in her, and Jungkook always calms you with the forecast that she’ll grow up to be as beautiful as you.

Something he thoroughly fears, however, judging the world’s intentions.

But you must also confess that seeing two pieces of the same gentle soul makes you feel lucky.

You drape your shawl over the chair at the large, wooden desk and step closer to the royal bed. Rest your legs from the excessive walk, laying down right beside him — facing him directly.

Gently, you reach out and graze the apple of his cheek; soon repeating the action with his miniature version before you tuck your hand under your temple. Then, you wait.

She doesn’t stir — as expected. But the tickling touch you left along his face elicits a sigh out of him before he lets out a small sound. Voices something like a harmless groan, along with a quiet smack of his lips that reveals the tiny dimples at the corners of his mouth, and a barely-there crease between his eyebrows.

His hand slides over her mini-body as a protective reaction, an immediate reflex. His eyes flutter open so slowly, just a slit; and when they do, you’re not the first thing he sees. Because they drift straight to her, ensuring that she’s still right where he left her and alright.

And only once he’s gathered that she’s still asleep, he blinks into your direction. They also say that priorities change with a child, no matter the amount of love for the partner; and you can’t blame anybody for this.

He smiles when he realises your presence, only lightly nudging you with his elbow. You move closer as he deduces, “You’re back. Was it…” Loving yawn. “Was it long enough for us to fall asleep?”

“It seems so. What were you two doing?”

“Talking.” Of course. Not an absurd answer by now at all. You nod. “She was explaining to me the existence of the pillow and the sun. Pointing at them. I was listening.”

Jungkook doesn’t ever describe her curiosity as exploration. To him, she’s talking, conversing. Your heart swells as you ask, “Ohhh, yes? What else?”

“I made her toy talk and she liked it, I reckon. Giggled so much that she fell off my lap once.”

The fantasy of the moment makes you break into laughter; you have a handful of questions. Did she get hurt? Did she keep laughing as she fell? Was she out of breath as much as you are when you observe her shenanigans?

You quiet down when she moves, fingers curling in. Shushing yourself and grimacing, you shift your attention back to your husband, taking in his freshly awoken expression before you state, “Your eyes are so swollen, though. And your face is dry.”

As if liquid dried on it.

Attentive assumption, because Jungkook instantly discloses, “Uh… I might’ve cried a bit.”

Oh? Oh no. Not him, too—

You wonder, “Why did you cry, my love?”

“Because she was crying…”

“What? Why?”

“Mmmh…. She’s always touching her face, you know?” You do know. You keep her from squishing her cheeks all the time. “I think she poked her eyes at some point and I mean… it didn’t hurt her at all.” Of course not; you make sure to keep her nails trimmed. “But it was a new sensation for her and her baby brain must’ve thought it hurt. So she started crying.”

“Oh no… and then you cried, as well, huh?”

You reach out to him, clearing his right eye and temple as you swipe away the strands of hair. By now, your language and manner of talking are mixing; you feel the same protective instinct towards both.

He sighs before he continues, “The parenting books said not to. I was supposed to stay calm, so she doesn’t interpret the situation as worse than it was. But I hate seeing her sad. So stupid.”

The position doesn’t allow him to shake his head properly, so he settles with a slow blink of his eyes. Then, he says, “But that made her stop. Look how hard she’s sleeping now. So deceiving!”

“Oh, baby…”

You don’t know what it is; maybe the permanent, lingering, overwhelming fact that this dream is actually your reality. That the three of you are alive and together and undoubtedly part of each other.

Whatever it is, it looks as though he is about to cry again.

“She is so feisty. Reminds me of you,” he whispers. “Right?”

He’s not talking to you, but to her — because she’s opened her eyes and he noticed before you even saw it.

Upon hearing his voice, she moves. Tiny fists stretch out, and she starts kicking slowly against Jungkook’s stomach. Her body winds restlessly, put off by his reaction just for a second when she hits against his body again and he utters, “Owwwh!”

And then, shamelessly, she yawns.

Coos and gurgles, croaks and caws. The sounds are small and high-pitched, sweet and tender. Curious wonder rests in her eyes as they crack open entirely, adjusting to her surroundings and you suddenly being here when you weren’t before. Not that she remembers.

And…

God, your heart jumps out of your chest, bloody and beating.

Because the very moment she sees you, she smiles in joy. She so often does. Sometimes, as you walk over to her crib at night, shining the candlelight into the space between you, she smiles with barely open eyes, too.

She squeals a little, reaching out for you, and you bring her fingers to your face for a fleeting moment before she retracts them again with a tired giggle. But when she registers her father’s breath, his voice sounding against her ear, she stops again.

Cuddling back in. Right where she wants to be.

No matter how much she loves you, she will never feel the same towards anybody in this world as she does for him.

He settles his hands on her more firmly, and then sits up with an encouraging, “Aaaand, here we go. Let’s take a look at you.”

He stares at her as he holds her in front of him, and she laughs again, seemingly amused by floating, held by two strong hands. Meaty legs kick in the air until he seats her down between the two of you with a shielding hand on her back.

She can’t fully sit on her own yet, but she always tries. Doesn’t wiggle too much anymore, though. Hits the mattress with her palms playfully.

“I swear… I will die for her,” Jungkook proclaims, moving until he meets her eyes. She looks up in a sudden movement, snickering again when he tickles her a little. Then, he repeats through gritted teeth, “Do you know, hm? I will die for you, I will!”

Before you know it — probably even before she, with her limited attention span, knows it — she’s back at playing. Then, another shift to you; a touch to your cheek. Leaning in, almost falling onto you when you scrunch your nose and kiss the air, communicating with her silently.

As her body attacks your face, an open, amused mouth drooling onto your cheek, you protest. Sitting up, you help her into your lap, and she has the audacity to yawn again.

With a shake of your head, you declare, “Sometimes you act spoiled, alright. Haven’t acted up yet, but I think we should probably feed you now, shouldn’t we?”

“Probably before she starts crying again,” Jungkook agrees.

“Can’t have that. Or you will, as well.”

“Ha-ha. But you know what, I might as well. It was insane.” He tuts, cocking an eyebrow as you prepare to bare your chest. “But if that’s what being with this tiny little thing means, I’ll take it,” leaning in, he returns to his talk with her, “alright? Listen up.”

Somehow, she does. No matter what he says, he manages to flood happiness through her, because she coos again, inhales sharply as she perks up her ears, “I’m serious. I’ll die for you, but only if you do not grow up. Stay like this, yes?”

“Stop it. I need her to grow into a woman like me and save the world.”

“Is that right? She can’t even say Dada yet. Give her some time.”

“Or Mama.”

“Yes. But you know as well as I do what word she’ll start out with.”

Standard banter between parents, you assume. You wouldn’t want it any other way. You prepare for a counter-tease, but then you fare better. “Of course. Something distinguished and eloquent like crown princess, probably.”

Jungkook blows a raspberry, and when tiny Hana mimics the action, spitting in the process, he roars with laughter. His usual child-like, sugary sweet titter, head thrown back and a hand under his chest.

This right here.

This is worth the pain, you think. Despite the hurdles, you think you’ve settled in this job, understood its responsibilities and set goals that will probably enable the life you desire.

Nothing can break this. Right?

As if diving into your thoughts or seeing them floating at the surface of your eyes, Jungkook reaches out, placing a warm palm on your neck. You look into his eyes, half his face dark as he covers the sun falling in from behind him.

If she wasn’t still on your lap, you’d jump into his, cuddle in and stay like this until the hot ball outside sets and rises again. But instead, you keep staring until he says, “We’re doing well. Really, really well.”

You are.

You have made yourself at home with the most tender of men, have gained luxuries and a noble style of living, still sporting a kind and generous heart. Yet, you’ve never been prouder of yourself.

“We are. And you are! See?” you agree cheerfully, touching his knee briefly. “You were so worried. And now— I’m losing her to you. God, just look at this—”

Her eyes must have followed your hand when it caressed his knee a moment ago. Because she crawls out of your lap, squeaking in joy as she targets his. Climbing it until he helps her up and settles in the way you wished to do just a minute ago.

“Mmmh. I guess I’m great at this, yes,” Jungkook concurs, “seems that bad traits aren’t learned after all, hm?”

The environment might be crucial in many cases, but if one inhabits a strong heart and a solid will, nothing can sway you.

Your chest feels as warm as the weather; your mind is as fresh as the breeze. And staring at his set of cheeks as flushed as the roses planted outside, you can’t help but be flooded with inexplicable magic.

You tell him, “You got into this role very easily. And I’m happy you’re happy.”

And he, the effortlessly fitting, second part of your soul, answers without a moment of hesitation and doubt—

“You make it easy to be.”

The bright, opulent room you enter floods back bittersweet memories in soaring waves.

It has been a while since you attended a noble ball like this. They’re cosier where you live. Smaller, the names less known; differing rigorously from events in the main city, in the capital, in the centre of your country.

Your seethingly beloved lorddom where you now reside has a humble and warm note to it; but no matter how thoroughly you might seek quiet peace, it will never bring the same nostalgia your former home does. Where you grew up.

Where you come from. And where Jungkook comes from. That one connection, indicating where the two of you started; your family; the crowds. This is all your life, playing out right in front of you.

As two of the most noted royals entering the hall, all eyes flicker to the two of you. Their gazes are brilliant and their attire posh. His brother, the host of the night, invited the best of the town; or rather, his wife did.

It’s wedding season again, which means that courting and heartache, confusion and intrigue will come back in all the glory you remember. Even now, you see a sliver of all the drama already.

Because no matter where you look, somebody is whispering. Somebody is eyeing another. Mustering the courage to dance with the object of their affection, or hatching a plan how to go down as the most desired of the year.

And from an outsider’s perspective, it’s fun to watch. In hindsight, you wonder if the crowd noticed the tension between Jungkook and you all that time ago; if they tittle-tattled about you, making up rumours or silent bets on what might transpire between you.

They probably did. You don’t recall much of the reactions as much as you do the touches, gazes, the butterflies his existence brought along.

And just as well, you remember the time before — when you’d hide behind your sister as she sought out a partner. Never did you think that the two of you would come out of the season with a beloved like the ones you now cherish.

And never did you think it would be the man who’d stand near those very pillars you’re now passing, a mere boy, keeping his eyes on you, but never saying anything particularly nice or productive.

It was events like these that you attended with him after he posed the question that changed the two of you.

“Let me court you.”

Sleepless nights. Rainy evenings. Swirling on dancefloors, bonding at orphanages, teasing in carriages. Locked rooms, secret conversations, broken hearts. Unexpected secrets and reunions.

Was that your life within a few months?

When people grow bored or notice the indecency of staring, they drift back to their old conversations. Jungkook and you conclude your entry, soon moving to the side. Fearing upcoming talks with people curious about the two of you.

You sigh as you listen to the strings, stress dropping off your shoulders as you say, “I love Hana so much, but… it’s so nice being here with you again.”

“It is,” he agrees, though hesitating, mouth open as if to add something. And then he does, “I do miss her, though.”

You laugh. Of course. “I know you do. I bet she does, too.”

Of course.

She could barely contain herself from babbling constant Dadadadas before you left. And yes, she said it before she learned to pronounce Mama. An insult, considering that you were the one who tended to swollen feet and a weight hanging off your tummy. Building to the moment she’d call for you.

But no! A daddy’s girl through and through. Then again, you are, too.

You do adore her to pieces, as well, but… it’d be a lie if you said you didn’t look forward to a night without a single obligation. Thankfully, the nanny took it upon herself to take care of Suhana tonight, so you are free to roam.

Despite, she’s already two years old now.

She’s been articulating herself clearer these days, so it’s gotten a little — a little! — easier to explain things to her now. She didn’t whine much when you told her you’d be out for a bit, but come back soon.

She must be asleep already anyway. And you hope you can keep your husband’s yearning in bay, too. You understand; it’s hard to leave. Especially as she stood ogling at you before you bid her good night, muttering a teeny tiny, “So pretty,” to you as you presented your gown.

“Mine?” she uttered.

You squinted, puzzled; you spoke her language, but couldn’t decipher this just yet. “…Yours?”

To explain, she nodded, making you understand when she patted her chest with a flat palm. Eyebrows cocking, you voiced, “Ohhhh. Hmmm. Darling, shall we go tomorrow and get you a pretty new dress for the summer?”

She was unspeakably delighted.

“Do you want to dance?” Jungkook asks, a hand already lifting.

For a while, you’d rather watch. It’s custom to dance, but… you’d rather observe the world from a different point of view, see what they used to see. Besides, you don’t enjoy Galop as much, and that’s what the piano is pulling out of the guests right now.

“You want to exhaust yourself already?” you laugh as he shrugs his shoulders. “Hmm. Am I allowed to decline?”

“Well…” he starts, lightly gripping your wrist, thumb touching it sweetly. “Do you have a card that you need to fill?”

“If you were courting me, yes. But I’m already shackled to you, and can’t escape even if I wanted to.”

“Ahhh,” he draws closer, mouth inches from your ears. Acting as if forwarding gossip, but only driving you insane in reality. “So you want to escape?”

“Something’s telling me I should try and see what you’ll do.”

“I mean, go ahead. Not opposed to going full-courti—”

Your laughter overshadows his last syllable, and you push his chest away, careful not to risk a scandal after coming out here after so long. He’s unabashed and would kiss you right here, if you let him.

So you move away, still giggling, and the moment your eyes lift to the guests, you silence. Right there, among the faces, you recognise one in the distance that had long dimmed in your memory.

You haven’t seen him in such a long time. And you didn’t expect it to happen today, either.

The man must have noticed the presence of a direct stare, because he soon looks into your direction at the very same moment. Squints his eyes, the smile adorning his mouth dropping as he spots you and understands who you are. Eyebrows raise. Features always expressive.

You want to grab Jungkook’s arm and flit away, but the man excuses himself from the conversation, idly strolling towards you and not leaving a way to escape anymore.

“Oh shit,” you quietly curse, and Jungkook hears, alarmed instantly.

He widens his doe eyes, so sweet as he looks at you, fingers coming up to pinch your chin as he asks, “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yes. Certainly, just—”

“Oh… I won’t ask if it’s you because I know it is.”

The smooth greetings are accompanied by a surprised call of your name, and when you look back at the person matching the voice, your expressions move to kindness. You don’t want to appear awkward, and you don’t, but you wonder what Jungkook might be thinking.

Smiling, too, as you observe. But this one’s definitely awkward, the friendly kind that can’t do anything else but wait until the question marks have cleared up for him. Right there in his eyes until you enlighten him.

“It has been ages,” the man in front of you chimes.

“It has been. Years!”

You turn to Jungkook, an introduction sitting on your tongue, but he beats you to it. Still weirdly smiling, as amiable as ever, he asks, “Do you know each other?”

And the man, heart-shaped lips rising back to a smile, apologises immediately, “Ah, yes, yes, yes. My manners. I am Lord Jung. Jung Hoseok.”

He bows, missing the way Jungkook’s mouth parts, eyes blinking nearly unimpressed until— his features become defined all of a sudden, jaw far sharper than usual. Akin to a razor.

He’s not liking this.

“Ah,” Jungkook mutters, returning to the sociable expression that households drill into their children for years. “I am Jeon Jungkook.”

If anybody knew him as well as you do, they’d realise much sooner than later that he’d rather switch the situation with an easier one. But you can’t say any of it yet. You only listen as your past flame says, “You settled so well.”

Of course he knows. You guess after the craze over two years ago, he soon found out what the truth really held. You only reply, “I did.”

“Married life suits you!”

“Thank you, Hoseok! What about you, have you—”

“Oh, actually I—”

He seems much more cheerful about this than you imagined. Then again, what did you think? His life has probably changed now and the sentiments his heart once tended to evaporated. Everyone moves on at some point.

And he sounds genuinely happy for you.

But that’s not how Jungkook seems to perceive it. Because to your chagrin, he interrupts the man facing you, and you immediately hold your breath, already preparing a couple warning words when he starts—

“It is rude of me, but may I perhaps interrupt?” Hoseok silences upon Jungkook’s words, listening attentively, and you ready yourself for more teeth-grinding. “I apologise for being so impudent and straight-forward, but… this is uncomfortable to me because—”

“Jungkook—” you cut, trying to save the situation.

“I know, I just do not wish to let feelings out on anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Hmm…

“Uncomfortable?” Hoseok repeats, watching Jungkook’s Adam’s apple move as he swallows. Ponders over the words hanging in the air, and when none of the two of you speak on, Hoseok finally understands. “Oh! Ohhhh…”

He snaps a finger, and you resist the urge to slap your face. You know you’ll laugh about it in a couple hours; in truth, you don’t care if it might get odd for you because in all pure honesty, the situation has the potential to turn into comedy gold.

But Jungkook has an envious fibre; one to occur rarely, but when it does, he doesn’t hide it. To him, you’re the most striking creature to exist; in his opinion, everybody should be in love with you.

Yet, the thought of you with someone who he might consider better than him is unbearable.

For a second, you consider lifting your frock and storming to the entrance, or a room upstairs and to squish Jungkook’s cheeks between your palms. To make crystal clear who your heart thumps for, to bring back the confidence he’s built in the marriage with you.

But you restrain yourself when Hoseok speaks, “I understand. Back then, I actually hoped to see you at some point because I know what you are talking about.”

Jungkook reacts, “You are?”

“I think so. Is it not about the shenanigans people crafted a few years ago?”

Two and a half years now, to be exact.

“Yes, I apologise,” you chime in, “they shouldn’t have spoken about you or your personal feelings. But I thought you knew I had married and—”

“No, I,” he says, flushing, raising a hand in objection, “I— this is what I wanted to explain, so the two of you never find yourselves despising me.”

Oh god.

“The thing is that,” he hesitates. If you didn’t know his heart better, you’d assume he’s teasing you. But he scratches his temple, scrambling for words. “One of my staff came to my mansion with me as we settled there. He lived in this town before as well. Like you and I did.”

He looks to the side as if he could find that friend here, but then soon lets his eyes drift over you and Jungkook again, continuing, “He had heard stories about… what we used to be.”

“Right,” you add.

“He asked me about it. And my best guess is that somebody must have heard and interpreted that I was still yearning for those sentiments. But I wasn’t. I had a secret fiancée for the longest. I never told anyone until the wedding day neared. So…”

It takes a moment. Then another.

You think back to the reactions each of you had two years ago; how it spread throughout the mansion and spawned chaos in your bedroom. In any good or bad way, and yet.

And when realisation finally trickles in, a big of course ghosting through your minds, Jungkook and you both voice a simultaneous, “Oh.”

You should’ve known. Then again, didn’t you? Didn’t both of you doubt the truth behind the rumours, yet believing what a collective of people said? You guess, once more than one person claims a thing, it becomes more plausible.

No matter that it never was.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” Hoseok emphasises, “it’s not how I felt. Certainly not. I just never thought you’d believe it, or,” God, how stupid, “as a happy married woman, care. So I never bothered reaching out. We both have our homes, right?”

His fingers touch almost shyly, another smile flashing to defuse the situation. You’ll definitely laugh about this later. But right now, you only feel heat in your face, desiring to chase your staff throughout the mansion until they tire out.

Damn it.

“We did. We do.” You put an ashamed hand to your stomach. That feels funny. Weird. “I actually have a daughter now.”

Good change to lighten the moment. You shoot Jungkook a look; his cheeks are as flushed as you expected. But Hoseok does well in playing along, latching onto the new topic effortlessly and naturally.

“Oh, you do? I have a son as well. Maybe yours and he could be friends.” You nod as he talks, grateful for his kindness. “Another’s on the way for us, and Soo swears she can feel it’s a girl this time.”

“That’s so lovely, Hoseok,” is all you need to say. You might not feel towards him as you used to. Whatever flame the two of you ignited all that time ago has long been extinguished, but you always wish the best for him. “That is honestly so lovely. I’m happy for you.”

One single nod, smile reaching his eyes. Then, no more beating around the bush, the end of the conversation already overdue when he says, “Enjoy the night. Don’t ever trust anyone but your own eyes and ears, yes?”

“Yes… you as well, Lord Jung.”

And then he walks away. Leaves the two of you in silence.

Lips tight, eyes on the ground, nearly dissociating until you nod. Then you raise your lips. And then laugh. Chuckling with a shaking head and a hand lifting hand. Touching your hot forehead as you say, “I feel stupid.”

“And I feel stupid…” Jungkook finally speaks, his first words after a while.

“Did we really argue about this years ago?”

“Well, before you reprimand me, I need to defend myself and remind you that the argument worked for us that night, not against us. Did Suhana come from it or what?”

“Do the math, Jungkook! I told you about the pregnancy already a day after. Suspected it that night, too.” You giggle again, amused by his dumbfounded expression. “You know what? Maybe I could use that dance now.”

“Ah? Thought the lady would be rejecting me tonight. That would’ve robbed much of my honour.”

“Shut up, you envious fool. Either you’ll come and sway with me or I’ll never let you forget it.”

“You won’t. Either way.”

You don’t respond with much other than another beam and an accepting palm in his. You don’t need to.

In the end, Hoseok didn’t make a difference. Guess you would’ve lived either way, just the way you are, content and in love and eternally blissful to all obstacles. The evil of the word and sorrow fear you, not vice versa.

Because it’s him. It’s you.

And her. The three of you; three pieces of the same heart.

Or perhaps— perhaps it’s you who’s doing the math all wrong.

yoooo!! it took a while, but we're finally back. as summer and vacation near, i will have a lot more time to write again, so sit tight and look forward to more content, like entertainer and cmi (ofc these two, as well). i really really hope you liked it. some parts were written under a bad migraine and exhaustion, but i hope i could still deliver the emotions well.

and love you all!! thank you for still being here with me :') and stay healthy and happy, don't overwork yourself! hopefully this one could serve as a bit of relaxation. if you liked it, don't forget to let me know as always, no matter if you just arrived here or have been here for some time. and like, reblog, comment as well! you knowww how much i cherish all the words ever sent hehe <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook series

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hp-hcs · 10 months ago

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teenage dirtbag — yandere! asshole! theodore nott x obsessed! gn! reader x barely mentioned! enzo berkshire

requested

y’all be writing some long ass requests, so i’m posting this without the ask ✌️🥲

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“He’s not a slut!”

“Yeah, well, you only think that ‘cause you want him to sleep with you.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I’m not just in it for the sex, dipshit.”

Harry snorted. “You’re also not not in it for the sex.”

“Are you calling me a slut now?” You asked, pressing a hand against your chest in mock-offense. “I thought we were friends, you two-faced bitch.”

“Anyways, my point being,” Ron interrupted. “He’s a violent manwhore druggie with a superiority complex and daddy issues. He’s a serial cheater, a Slytherin, and a literal Death Eater, Y/n.”

You nodded in acknowledgment as you thought about the very valid points he brought up. “Yeah, but he’s hot.”

“I swear to Merlin, Y/n-”

~~~

“‘…I think you’re really cute and funny, and-’”

“What are you idiots doing?”

“You’ve got a secret admirer, Notty-boy,” Mattheo snorted, waving the letter he was holding.

“‘Secret’.” Draco mumbled, putting the word in air quotes.

The rest of the boys crowded around Mattheo, snickering as they read the love letter over his shoulder.

“You’ve even got flowers, Theo,” Blaise pretended to swoon. “How romantic!”

“L/n’s fuckin’…obsessed, man,” Mattheo shook his head in disbelief as he looked up from skimming the letter in order to point to the small pile of Valentine’s Day gifts that had been left on Theo’s bed.

Theodore groaned. “Salazar- I just don’t understand how they don’t get that I’m not into them.”

“Problems in your love life there, Nott?” Draco teased.

“They’re just so…clingy. And obnoxious. Constantly following me around ‘n shit.”

“Yes, having someone who’s head over heels in love with you must be so difficult,” Enzo deadpans. “However do you manage to survive?”

“Oh, shut up,” Theo scoffed.

~~~

“Here comes your worshipper, Nott,” Malfoy snickers, surreptitiously pointing towards you, who was making a beeline over to the Slytherin table.

“My- ah, shit.”

Theo frowned in annoyance as his friends burst into raucous laughter.

“Hi, Nott!” You greeted cheerily, a light blush on your face. “I was wondering if you’d like to go down to Hogsmeade to get a butterbeer with me?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your feeble attempts at flirting. It was common knowledge that Theodore Nott didn’t do committed relationships, so why were you still trying?

“No.”

Your face fell. “Oh. Alright, then.”

Enzo glanced over.

“Next weekend maybe?” You tried again hesitantly.

“Merlin- You’re pathetic, L/n,” Theodore finally snapped. “How about you go get a life of your own instead of trying so hard to be in mine?”

You flinched back, your eyes widening, before you turned on your heel and left the Great Hall without another word.

~~~

“Oh- L/n’s here, Theo,” Mattheo snickered, watching you walk over to the Slytherins’ studying area in the library.

Theodore rolled his eyes, preparing for another barrage of mushy gushy romance bullshit. But you merely stepped around his chair with a murmured excuse me and continued down the row.

He watched, startled, as you stopped behind the study area’s couch and draped your arms over Berkshire’s shoulders.

Theo blinked.

Enzo, not even flinching or getting distracted by your sudden presence, just grinned to himself and clasped a hand around both of yours, his thumb rubbing small circles into the join between your wrist and palm as he continued his discussion with Blaise.

Theodore felt sick.

Then he heard you laugh at something Enzo said, and that’s what made him completely lose it.

He fumed. How dare Berkshire even look at you, let alone touch you? Berkshire didn’t deserve you. Who the fuck did he think he was?

You were his.

And Theodore would be damned if he was going to let Berkshire steal you away from him.

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #hp x gn reader #theo nott #hp x male reader #x male reader #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #theo nott x reader #yandere theodore nott #x gn reader #gn reader #yandere hp

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incorrectcreepypastafam · 9 months ago

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Creepypasta As Hazbin Hotel

Ben: so what do you think

Jeff: I’m sorry what the fuck was that

Helen: we’re not filming a porn as a commercial

Puppeteer: why not

Nina: I like being forced

Jeff: keep that to yourself, Nina

Nina: Puppeteer sir

Puppeteer: call me dickmaster

Nina: Puppeteer.

Nina: it’s a solution to our biggest problem

Jeff: oh yeah herpes that’s a bitch

Nina: no our other biggest problem

Jeff: oh uh ugly people?

Jeff: math?

Jane: face my wrath

Jeff: who are you

Jane: I attacked you literally last week

Jeff: ?

Jane: we’ve done battle like twenty times

Jeff: well you must’ve been really bad at this

Liu: oh god, here I go, Jeff. just another fucking day with Jeff. hey hey hey fuck my life

Liu: looks like you have everything under control here

Lyra: of course I do, fuck you, now shoo, go take care of the piss baby

Liu: so you should…?

Jeff: do nothing?

Liu: great idea!!

Toby: you still pissed he almost beat you that time?

Jeff: uh fuck you

Toby: just saying

Sally: *gasp* the bad boy is back

Sally: never leave me again

Brian: we’re about 80% sure she’s harmless

Jeff: this is stupid

Lyra: this is not stupid!

Lyra: it’s just the GAMEEEEE

Lyra: Liu did it well so please try to do the same!

Jeff: I’m too sober for this

Jeff: I’m looking forward to stabbing the other residents

Slenderman: WHAT WHY

Slenderman: people are being nice because they want you to feel welcome

Jeff: *middle finger*

Liu: *middle finger*

Toby: *laughs evilly*

Nina: I have my doubts

Tim: Puppeteer’s minions are all over the place and I need you to get rid of them

Jeff: oh well in that case I’d be delighted to

Tim: humanely

Jeff: well that’s a lot less fun

Jeff: this time everyone has to catch him, okay? Unless you want me to hurt you

Jeff: I love to suck-

Tim: I swear to fuck if you say dicks

Jeff: popsicles, you sicko! Get your mind outta the gutter

Jeff: but you know, dicks too

Sally: sometimes I kill mother bugs in front of their children as a warning to others

Jeff: NINA?!

Clockwork: uh my name’s Clocky

Jeff: no one gives a shit

Jeff: call me fake one more time, motherfucker

Jeff: i dare you

Toby: fake

Jeff: fucking asshole- *hits his head on roof*

Toby: you done?

Liu: Lyra, sweetie, you uh you good?

Lyra: nope no not really!

Sally: maybe it’s time

Lazari: no

Sally: to ask

Lazari: don’t say it

Sally: your dad

Lazari: UGHHHHHH

Lyra: wait that’s it

Jeff: kill everyone?

Lyra: noooooo

EJ: what’s the hold up?

EJ: you got daddy issues?

Lulu: no we’ve just never been close

Lulu: after Mom died he never really wanted to see me

Lulu: he calls sometimes but only if he’s bored or needs me to do something

EJ: daddy issues

Brian: this is the first time she’s called you in years

Brian: this has to be perfect

Brian, picking up the phone: HEYYYY BITCH

Jeff: you may have heard of me from my radio broadcast

Tim: hmmm NOPE I guess that’s why Toby called it the Hazbin Hotel hahaha

Jeff: hahaha it was actually my idea

Tim: hahaha well it’s not very clever

Jeff: haha fuck you

Toby: OKAY

Brian: you like girls! so do I! We have so much in common

Clockwork: how you been?

Jeff: good! Until five minutes ago

Sadie: hey Sally what you been up to, girlie?

Sally: fighting bugs

Sadie: and how’s that going for you

Sally: they’re winning

Sally: but not for long

Lulu: how come he can have faith in me but my own father can’t?

Jeff: oooooh drama *pulls out popcorn*

Slenderman: hi

Slenderman: Slenderman

Slenderman: that’s my wall that you just blew up

Jeff: don’t fucking shush me bitch

Sadie: I need a break but hug a koala for me

Nina: omg can you imagine an actual KOALA

Jeff: anyway you sure fucked up didn’t you

Jeff: oh Lyra, you look an absolute mess

Sadie: I won’t hurt anyone for you

Jeff: who’s asking?!

Ben: Jeff and Toby just left like they were running away from their responsibilities

Ben: should we be alarmed?

Helen: are you fucking high?

Lulu: oh I’m just kidding

Lulu: I know you’re an ace in the hole

Ann: a what now?

Sally: I named all the stains on the carpet

Sally: that one’s Fred

Liu: look I can’t resist a fight okay

Liu, about Jeff: especially when I get to tag team with this fuckhead

Lyra: live tonight however you want because-

Toby: we’re all gonna die!

Dina: alright let’s give it up for not dying!

Dina: love not dying!

Dina: … drinks?

Jeff: I mean personally I’m excited it’s been a long time since I stabbed someone and really meant it you know what I mean

Lazari: I dub thee king roach

EJ: oh to understand your twisted little mind

Jeff: anyway I guess

Jeff: please don’t die tomorrow

Jeff: okay bye

Lyra: rip Jane’s cunt mouth out her ass

Jeff: would you just- chill, Lyra, fuck

Zero: they appear to have some kind of shield sir

Puppeteer: oh really? I didn’t see this giant fucking shield in front of me YOU DUMB BITCH NO SHIT

Jeff: I’m about to end your fucking life

Puppeteer: fuck you, you red piece of- too much fucking red- fuck shut up

Ben: hahaha poetry

Jeff: what just happened? Ffffuck

Toby: these fucking angels won’t stop coming

Jeff: HA

Toby: okay I walked right into that one

Jane: Before I take your life I’m going to tear that other eye out of your face

Clockwork: try it bitch

Jeff, to Jane: live

Jeff: live knowing that you only do because I let you

Slenderman: see you messed with my daughter so now I am going to FUCK you

Zalgo: …

Clockwork & Lyra: …

Jeff: 😏

LJ: well this just got interesting

Sally: it’s fuck you up, Dad

Slenderman: wait what did I say?

Liu: how’s mercy taste, you little bitch

Slenderman: take your little friends and GO HOME

Slenderman: please

Puppeteer: I’m The Puppeteer

Helen: and I’m-

Puppeteer: nobody gives a shit who you are, Helen

Zero: anyway congrats to Slenderman and his crew for not being totally fucking useless for once

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stxrshxpxd · 1 year ago

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“that’s my girl!” part 4

masterlist

pairing: dr house x reader

word count: 1k

prompt: it seems house can’t go very long without getting his hands on the reader and she is starting to wonder what’s going on between them

“This looks like a mild case of mono to me,” I said with a warm smile to ease the worry of my patient. I dropped my hands from the swollen lymph nodes in his neck and pulled my rubber gloves off as I wheeled my chair away from him. I went to speak again but was interrupted by the door swinging open. I turned around quickly to find House leaning against the door frame.

“I need you,” he said.

“I’m busy.”

I turned back around to face my patient, but House refused to leave of course.

“Sore throat? Pulled muscle? Scraped knee?” he asked belittling.

“House.”

“I need you,” he echoed.

“You said.”

“Emergency consult.”

I took a deep breath which I sighed out, and decided to quickly finish up with my patient. I knew there was no consult but I also knew he wouldn’t ever back down.

“The symptoms should be going away on their own in a few weeks. Just make sure to get as much rest as you can and drink lots of water. But if you’re not getting better by the end of next week, don’t hesitate to call. Thank you for coming in. Now, excuse me, I have to assist Dr House here.”

At last House got what he wanted when I followed him out into the hall and walked with him.

“Are you asking patients to call you now? That’s a bit desperate. I didn’t think he would be your type.”

“You’re exhausting,” I breathed.

“See, I thought your type was a bit more intelligent and charming. Maybe with a limp-”

“You obviously don’t need me for a consult,” I cut him off, trying to get to the bottom of what he wanted from me, while I still walked with him down the hall.

“Now if I so obviously don’t need you for a consult, why did you follow me?”

“I would much rather just aimlessly walk with you than do my interesting, fulfilling job,” I said sarcastically.

“It’s funny how you’re using that silly tone while telling the truth,” House said and steered us to my right. I rolled my eyes excessively but couldn’t think of what to say. House smirked at me.

“My patient,” House began again and opened the door to the next exam room, back first. “25 year old female, bratty, hot for her boss and in denial. What would you say that is? Daddy issues?”

“I have actual patients waiting in the clinic,” I informed him and went to turn around but House caught my waist with his large hand and kept me from moving.

“I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want my hands on you,” he muttered with a gleam in his eye and head tilted as he stared me down. My heart was beating hard and I flexed my jaw, staring back up at him. He took my lack of a response as a yes and pulled my waist towards him and into the room.

Next thing I knew I was backed against the closed door with House’s tongue exploring my mouth and his hands under my shirt. He cupped my breasts in his palms and I exhaled a soft moan, which was cut short by the three hard knocks near the back of my head. House breathed out a frustrated sigh and kept his forehead against mine and our lips just barely touching.

“Unless L/N’s got a runny nose, this is not a medical exam. Quit hogging the exam room and do your job, House,” Cuddy’s strong voice broke through the door and I chuckled at her putting all the blame on House. But he didn’t smile. He kissed me again. It was softer this time and it felt odd, me having been pulled out of that lustful surge by Cuddy’s knocking. When House pulled away again I blinked back at him a few times, trying to determine what was going on between us. That vulnerability I had felt radiating off of him the other day after sex was back.

“What is this?” I asked finally.

“Oh, here we go,” House responded with mock annoyance at my need for emotional clarity and rolled his eyes, building his walls up again. I laughed breathily.

“Falling in love isn't a weakness, you know,” I said to his back which had turned to face me now.

“Falling sounds like a weakness to me,” he joked back and I noticed he wasn’t denying the love part. But he was deflecting. I squinted my eyes at him as he turned back around.

“Fine. Write me a poem about rising into love and we’ll take it from there.”

I left House like how he had left me so many times before. With a witty end to our conversation, patting his chest and turning my heel without looking back. I thought I would feel on top of the world but I had to take a moment when I stepped out of the exam room and I listened closely to the silence from inside. I felt oddly guilty for my snarking at him, but I forced myself to walk on.

#house #dr house #gregory house #imagine #fic #dr house x reader

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dreams-hopes-lies14 · 1 month ago

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some thoughts about the Doctor Odyssey mid-season finale:

I’m SO shocked that the writers had the balls to do this but I’m genuinely so glad because (although I think I’m in the minority) I always find a pregnancy storyline to be so interesting especially with how it can change up character dynamics

I’m not mad at Tristan x Vivian👀 HOWEVER, I think that Tristan is still in love with Avery (and also Max but doesn’t know it) AND VIVIAN DESERVES BETTER

Genuinely, I want to see more Vivian

We are in dire need of a Broadway episode!!!

okay so Tristan may also have some daddy issues that may have helped form his intense fear of abandonment (so now he has daddy issues with our resident daddy, Dr. Max Bankman🤭)

I hate how this “female dilemma” is currently being framed BUT I think (or hope) that the writers are doing this to set up the potential of both Max and Tristan being involved in helping out so Avery can also achieve all of her dreams because WITH THE RIGHT SUPPORT IT IS DOABLE

Avery is such a cynic who believes that joy is excruciating and I NEED her to talk about why that is (perhaps divorce trauma? childhood trauma?)

Avery definitely had ideas of a life with a white picket fence, but I think she’s more accepting that that might not be her fate compared to the boys but I don’t think she ever figured that having a kid doesn’t have to be in the context of a white picket fence

either way I support Avery’s right to choose! and I’m so glad that Tristan told her what she needed when Max was clearly freaking out

Max’s automatic reaction was to somehow make the pregnancy work while also helping Avery with her dreams and I can’t help but wonder why exactly he locked in on that assumption because I think it goes beyond the “I haven’t had this happen before”

So many themes of life coming to catchup with you even in so-called heaven and idk if I should buy into the heaven/afterlife/coma theories or if this is the writers saying “BUCKLE UP — REAL LIFE SHIT IS COMING AT YA SOON”

Reality always has a way of catching up to them so is it potentially Max’s reality of potentially still dealing with COVID (the theory) or is it that the throuple isn’t some sort of fantasy just as ALL three of them (yes, including Avery —especially Avery) has been treating it

The throuple can (and should imo) be rooted in reality, but right now, it’s being treated as a dream, an overindulgence, and a form of escape rather than as a real relationship where they have to constantly work on the interpersonal bonds amongst themselves AND their intrapersonal traumas

I’ll definitely have to rewatch the episode and I’ll watch it within the context of the previous episodes because I wanna look into more of the song motifs and themes throughout the show because I do think that this is a Ryan Murphy specialty

I also think the music could give us an indication of where they might go with the throuple, Tristan x Vivian, etc.

Overall, I know that some people may not like the trope, but I’m really really glad that they decided to go all in with this! I loved this episode and the fact that we’re seeing Avery being forced to confront something very very real that could potentially connect with her previous traumas

im also SO glad that the fanfic I have cooking that has some people from Max’s past fits in with the storyline (dare I say, even more so because it deals wit a childhood friend, and a previous teen pregnancy and how it affected Max’s life🤭)

#doctor odyssey #ody3 #avery morgan #max bankman #tristan silva #vivian montgomery #1x08 doctor odyssey #not my body waking itself up at the wee hours of the morning so I can watch this

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weirdfangirly · 2 years ago

Text

—No Pure Blood

(Part 1)

Dark-Fiction Central ©️

Dark!Dad!Joel / Dark!Uncle!Tommy x Reader

Summery: You don’t want your dad to find out, so you let your uncle fuck you from behind.

⚠️ : Age-Gap (Joel is 53, Tommy 45, Reader 20), Rape, Dub-con, blackmailing, Dark!Joel, father/daughter relationship dynamics (everyone knows Reader to be Joel’s “adoptive daughter”), Reader calls Joel dad, confused Reader (Stockholm-Syndrom), father-figure Joel but messed up, manhandling, Daddy-issues, overprotective/obsessive Joel, manipulation, degradation-kink, throat-fuck/face-fuck, blow-jobs, breeding-kink, cum-eating, misogynistic-views/behaviour, name-calling, Uncle!Tommy (yes, it’s a warning from now on)

A/n: I had trouble giving Joel a title for this fic since he’s readers father-figure, kidnapper, rapist, pseudo-boyfriend—so I decided to just call him dad!joel and move on.

There will definitely be a part 2 because I’m not satisfied with the ending. Please like and reblog and leave me a comment—it will definitely motivate me to ACTUALLY write part 2 down instead of just thinking about it…

————

Joel needed you today.

He needed your juicy little mouth that was always so eager to do and say whatever he wanted.

His heavy balls were resting on your chin, his throbbing cock was sticking out over your face. The mascara ran down your cheeks along with tears, sweat and spit.

Just five seconds ago you were suffocating on his cock, not daring to pull away. Not daring to fight back.

He might as well have killed you then and there, and you still wouldn't have objected.

You respected him too much…or maybe you were confusing respect with fear? After all, he still wore the face of the murderer of your father. Your real father. But that felt like a lifetime ago…

Whenever you tired to think about your beloved father, his face morphed into Joel’s.

“Good girl.”, he praised you for your obedience and you couldn’t help yourself but find comfort in his words.

Joel couldn't decide whether to cum on your pretty face or make you swallow his load. He liked to know you full of his cum.

One day he would get you pregnant, just to see you round and full of him. He wanted to watch you raise his children. After all, your place was right next to him—and a life in Jackson wouldn’t change that. He would make sure of that.

This damn place was full of soft little boys who all grew up in the comfort of a thick fence that kept danger far away from them. They wouldn’t know how to protect you. They were trying to get your attention, running after you like a bunch of dogs. Joel was sick of witnessing it and not being able to do anything about it but to play “overprotective-father”.

He was sick of pretending that you weren’t his bitch.

He would knock you up soon enough. He would make a little mommy out of you and ruin your pretty body for every men out there. He would tell Tommy and the others that a random boy got you pregnant, so that nobody would get suspicious of it.

Poor girl got herself pregnant and dumbed by a random boy at a party while drunk—sounded believable enough. Joel couldn’t let anyone find out that he was fucking his “adoptive daughter“—that would be a fucking scandal.

His brother’s bitch would definitely try to kick his ass out of Jackson and this time she would actually have a good reason to do so...

He tapped your flushed cheek, signalling you to open up for him. You did. You opened your mouth widely, bracing yourself on his thick hairy thighs. He put his cock back in your mouth, it belonged there. You closed your plump lips around him.

“Ya‘gonna take what I give you, alright?”, he mumbled and grabbed a fistful of your hair. You closed your eyes and nodded, knowing what that would mean; its going to be rough and unforgiving.

He pushed his cock deeper and deeper in your mouth, before hitting the barrier of your throat.

You felt so good to him. He let his head fall back, relishing the moment.

You gagged, your eyes sprung open. You looked up at the tall man with big painted eyes that only made him want to fuck you even harder.

He wore nothing but a white undershirt. His broad shoulders and strong arms looked even more intimidating from this perspective. He was so handsome.

You wanted to make him proud.

So you braved yourself mentally, dedicated to not give him a hard time. He started to fuck your throat like it was your cunt, picking up on speed and force. Pushing himself down your throat making you gag and spasm under his hold.

All you could focus on was to not bite him even though every cell in your body was screaming at you to do exactly that. You couldn’t though. Your punishment would be way, way worse than getting used by him like this and he would most certainly not let you go to your friends birthday party tonight…

“Such a pretty fucking slut.”, he hissed, searching after his release that was seemingly hidden somewhere deep down your throat. Thankfully, it didn’t took him a lot of digging to find what he was looking for…

He exploded inside you mouth in such an absurd intensity that his cum leaked down from your nostrils, making you cough and choke around him. He was holding you in place tightly, watching your struggles intensely. Breathing heavy, strong chest falling up and down.

For what felt like minutes to you, there was absolutely no way for you to get fresh air into your system. His cum was blocking your airwaves. This had never happened before.

You were panicking. He wasn’t letting you go.

You just looked too pretty like this.

Eventually though, he let go of you with an animalistic growl, pushing you away from him. Your head hit the wall and you started to cry from what just had happened. Totally overwhelmed.

Like so often, you felt like a used napkin. Trash.

You crawled over to his legs and hugged him, trying to comfort yourself. “I-I c-couldn’t b-breathe.”, you hiccuped and looked up at him.

He was still trying to come down from his high.

„Walking around all day long in that skimpy little skirt, what did you expect would happen?“, he panted. “Told you many times not to dress like a whore.”

“M’sorry.”, you sniffed and whipped your tears away.

He made you let go of him and you immediately felt lost. „M’gonna take a shower now, girl. Wanna join?”

You wished. Joel wasn’t a softy, little things like asking you if you want to take a shower with him were the most he could do.

You shook your head. „I can’t…I’ll be running late to Anna’s birthday party.“

Joel was about to walk upstairs but stopped in his tracks. „Birthday party.“, he repeated like it was a curse-word.

„I-I told you last week.“, you reminded him. ��You said yes, dad.“

How many fucking friends do you fucking have? Being invited to some kind of party every other night…

Joel was sick of it. Sick of Jackson. Your place was wherever he was and not at some random parties, or hangouts.

„Did I?“

„Yes.“, you said, truthfully.

„Mh.“, he looked over at you. You were still sitting on the floor in your tight little skirt. Spit and cum drooling down your face. Mascara running down your cheeks and half of your cherry lipstick—that he had gotten for you on his last hunt for supplies—smeared on his cock.

You did good—and good girls get rewards. His own rule. That was their system. That was how Joel got you where you were; confused, obedient and submissive.

He couldn’t let a life in Jackson ruin that. But you did a good job today and therefore you deserved a reward.

Good girls get rewards. Bad girls get punished.

„You remember the rules, girl?, he asked sternly.

„I’ll be home at 9. No entertaining boys. No drugs.“, you repeated like a mantra.

„Which one of them sluts was Anna again?“, he frowned. He could never put a face to the names of your friends, even though a lot of them would spend a lot of time over at their house throwing heart eyes at Joel.

„The one with the black hair and nose piercing.“, you said. “She’s not a slut, dad.”

“Mh.”, he just made and started to walk up the stairs. “If ya ass ain’t home at 9, me and my gun are coming to pick you up.”

“I won’t be late.”, you said, smiling. “Big promise.”

————

You whipped your face clean from Joel’s mess and tried your best to make yourself look presentable again. This was a special night after all…

You changed into a new shirt and applied another cover of lipgloss onto your lips.

You wanted to look your best for him…

It was a dangerous game you were playing—a deadly game even—but it was all too exciting.

Dean Winchester liked you. Really liked you.

He liked you so much that he wasn’t afraid to secretly meet up with Joel fucking Millers girl, risking to be caught. Risking to basically die.

Joel had a reputation in Jackson. Everyone knew about him and what he was capable of.

You had told Dean many times that if he wants to see you, it has to be discreet. Nobody could know about him and you, ever. You had told him that their relationship—no matter what kind of relationship—would mean danger.

For both of you.

Joel would kill Dean in a heartbeat, not even give it a second thought. However the things he would do to you would be much worse, because you had to deal with his outrage and anger for the rest of your life. He would probably start to tie you up again—he used to do that at the beginning, where he couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t try to run away from him.

You didn’t want to go back to that stage of your relationship with Joel. You didn’t want to be tied up to trees, heaters or posts again. You didn’t want him to walk you around on a tight leash again.

“I don’t know if we should see each other again, Dean...”, you whispered.

You weren’t sure if Dean was worth the risk. You didn’t even like Dean that much…You just liked to have the attention that Joel didn’t give you.

It wouldn’t be fair for Dean to get killed just because you were bored…

“Your old man won’t find out, babe.”, Dean said, knowing what you where getting at. He kept on kissing your neck and kneading your tit from under your shirt.

You were at the stables. It was your little hideout. Nobody would be able to find you here.

“But what if he does?”, you asked, voice full of worry. “What then?”

You already knew the answer.

Dean sighed and let go of you.

“He’s not the only one who had to survive out there for a long period of time.”, Dean said, now sounding annoyed. “He thinks of himself as tough, but guess what? So am I. I was part of a Raider-gang. Clickers and runners were the least of my problems. I had to showcase strength and dominance every day in order to not get fucked with. It was like living in a cage full of starving dogs. I know people like Joel and I know how to deal with them-“

Dean saw your big fearful eyes, hanging onto every word that left his mouth. He decided to better shut the fuck up before drying you out too much.

“Babe, don’t worry.”, he softened his voice again. “You are too pretty for that.”

He started to stroke your bare leg, making your skin prickle.

“C’mon let me make you feel real good, ya?”, he whispered in your ear before placing kisses all over your neck. He let his hand vanish under your top again, playing with your nipples. He was a good kisser and as you found out, you really liked being kissed on the neck. He made your eyes roll back.

Joel never kissed you like this. He never kissed you ever.

Dean’s lips eventually found yours, his tongue immediately entering your mouth, dominating your tongue. His hand wandered downside, finding his way between your legs. You jumped a little at the contact.

“You are not wearing panties.”, he realised and couldn’t believe his luck. He smirked into your mouth.

You blushed. Joel always liked it more when you didn’t wear any underwear around the house, so you figured Dean would like it, too. You could find a lot of similarities between them actually. Dean wasn’t like the other boys in Jackson, he was older and more experienced. Maybe you picked him because he was so much like Joel?

Dean was good with guns, good in killing clickers and a survivor. That’s why he got a position as a hunter—just like Joel.

“God, you are such a little tease, babe.”, he said and carefully slipped his finger inside you. You were wet since Joel had face-fucked you and you got nothing in return. Maybe Dean would give you the sweet-release you so desperately wanted. His hands were as skilled has his tongue. He fingered you in such a manner that you were surprised to actually feel your orgasm forming.

“Can you…can you keep kissing my neck, dean?”, you managed to get out without sounding too pathetic. It just felt soo good and it would help you cum.

He liked his name on your tongue like that.

“‘Course, babe.”, he whispered and started to kiss your neck again.

“And-and can you…can you call me…a slut?”, you whispered.

He stopped doing what he was doing.

Was that weird to ask?

You didn’t know. It was certainly normal for Joel to call you that.

You opened your eyes and blushed.

“What?”, he asked, confusion written all over his face.

“Never mind.”, you murmured in shame. You closed your legs and straightened your skirt.

You felt dumb.

“Wait, wait, wait.“ Dean said, not liking what you were doing. “You want me to call you…a slut?”

You nodded, face turning red. There was no point in denying it. Although you thought about acting like that was not what you said.

“That’s whatcha like to hear? You like being degraded like that?”

Joel always called you mean names like that when he was fucking you. At the beginning you didn’t really like it. It was hurtful to be called such nasty names all the time when you already felt bad about what was going on. It made you cry and you asked him to not call you that. You didn’t know what shifted inside you, but at one point you started to like it. It felt like a compliment to you. The only kind of compliments Joel was willing to dish out to you. You liked to be Joel’s slut and you wanted to be Deans too.

“Yes, it’s…it’s hot.”, you simply said.

Dean smiled at you in awe. “Damn, you really are a bombshell trough and through...”

Of course he would call you a slut. Dean was holding back anyways. This whole „boyfriend-act“ was knew to him too. He figured that the rules in Jackson were different than what he was used to outside. The only rule he knew was „take what you want, or someone else will“

However he was not with the raiders anymore. He couldn’t just take you from your father. He needed to make you fall in love with him first and soon he would’ve a cunt to warm his cock again. Dean liked a challenge anyways.

And you definitely were the biggest challenge in town.

“You should work on your compliments, son.”, a voice suddenly appeared from behind.

You jumped up from your spot and turned around. All colour left your face when you came face to face with…

“Uncle Tommy…”, you gulped, nearly choking on your own words. “What-what are you doing here?”

Tommy was standing there, hands casually tucked inside his jacket. A cigarette hanging from his lips.

How long was he standing there?

How much of your conversation did he witnessed?

Oh how embarrassing.

“Hi, sweetheart.”, he said to you and smiled, cigarette dangling between his lips. “Oh, well you know, I like to watch the horses while I smoke.”

He pointed at the stables behind him with his thump.

Oh this was the beginning of the end of your life.

Dean who was still casually sitting on the bench, one foot dangling over his leg and arms outstretched, looked over his shoulder to Tommy and greeted: “Mr Miller. Nice to meet you.”

Judging Deans very relaxed body language and the lack of horror in his face, you couldn’t tell if he realised how bad the situation was for him—and you.

“Nice to see’ya too.”, Tommy replied.

There was a tension building pause between all of you. Tommy was the one breaking the silence.

“You should go home now, son. I put’ya on patrol together with Joel tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, I’ve seen the protocols.”, Dean nodded and rose up from the bench to his full height.

“You will definitely need to be well-rested, is what I’m sayin.“, the threat in Tommys sentence was hidden but there.

Dean nodded, in amusement and understanding.

Your worried eyes wandered back and forth between the men. You were close to hyperventilating.

“Yes, it’s late.”, you awkwardly said in hopes to debunk the situation. “I’m tired too.”

Another heavy pause placed itself onto everyone. You looked up at Dean, non-verbally telling him to please play along and just go home. That it wasn’t worth it. He looked down at you and winked, before tuning his attention back to Tommy.

“Good night, babe.”, he said while looking at the older man, provocatively.

Tommy kept his cool. He wasn’t impressed by Dean at all and he most certainly wouldn’t let him ruin this promising night.

“Mr Miller.”, he eventually said and walked away, leaving you alone with Tommy.

Tommy watched Dean wander away. He scoffed and shook his head in amusement. He took one last drag from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. “What a charmer.”, he murmured more to himself than to you.

He walked around the bench and took a seat, grunting. “If it was up to me,”, he started, “I wouldn’t let that prick anywhere near a gun, but you know, Joel was quite pleased with the way the boy handled himself out there. Skilled. The kid has experience, many people in Jackson don’t.”

You didn’t hear a thing Tommy just said. You heart was beating too loud and too fast, you feared to suffer a heart attack.

“Uncle Tommy, I-I’m…please don’t tell Joel.”, you begged. There was nothing but worry in your eyes.

“Sweetheart, relax.”, he laughed. “I was young once too. You don’t even wanna know what bullshit I pulled behind my parents backs…”

You cracked a little smile at that.

“And, believe me, ya don’t want me to tell you about Joel’s business when he was your age…”

That made you giggle. You couldn’t even picture Joel as a young man.

“Ah, you’re smiling again.”, Tommy pointed at your face proudly. “I like to see that. C’mon sit down next to me.”

“I should go home, uncle Tommy. I have to be home at 9 or else…”

He looked at his wristwatch. “Got planty of time then.”

He was right. You still got half an hour. You nodded and placed yourself next to Tommy.

You met Tommy for the first time here in Jackson. Joel had told you a lot about him during your journey. You warmed up to Tommy almost immediately. At first you were a little sceptical about the man, he looked a lot like Joel. However he was nothing like him—Well, maybe only a tiny-little bit. According to Joel’s many stories, Tommy was pretty badass too. „We used to be a duo“, Joel had told you.

Tommy was definitely more charismatic though. Everyone in Jackson liked him. He was warm and welcoming towards you, immediately accepting you as part of their family.

“You will not tell Joel?”, you asked again, just to make sure.

“Nah.”, Tommy shook his head. “M’sorry for ruining your little date, sweetheart.”

You smiled. “It’s ok, uncle Tommy. I’m not mad at you.”

He smiled. “That’s nice to hear.”

He paused for a second before speaking again:

“As your uncle though…I feel like I have to give you the speech.”

“The speech?”, you repeated, not knowing what ‘the speech’ was.

“Yea, the speech.”, Tommy sighed. “He’s your first boyfriend, right?”

You looked at Tommy, unsure what to answer. Dean wasn’t your boyfriend yet—and he probably never would be. Joel was. Was he? No he was your dad.

“Guys like Dean…they mean trouble for girls like you. Gonna take a bite out of your heart before spitting it back out. Ya understand?”

“I…I don’t think so, uncle Tommy…”, you truthfully said.

Tommy leaned back and looked up at the night-sky, thinking of the right words. He turned his attention back at you. “M’tryin to say is, you are a pretty girl. That’s all guys like Dean care about. You give him a bit of yourself and he will expect more and more, until you’re left with nothin more to give. That’s when he gets bored of you and leaves.”

Your eyes widened at Tommys cryptic message. What he was trying to say is “if you let him fuck you, he will not be interested in you any more”—but that would be to harsh for you to hear.

You couldn’t help yourself but think…Will Joel get bored of me too?

You kept quiet, biting your lip. Not sure what to say.

“Maybe I should tell my brother about this, about Dean...”, he suddenly said and making every alarm bell inside your head ring. “That Dean kid is bad blood. Joel should scare him a little, make him understand that he shouldn’t break ya heart.”

You grabbed his arm and frantically shook your head. “No, no, no! Uncle Tommy, please don’t! Joel will kill him.”

“Sounds just about right to me .”, he chuckled.

“No, you don’t understand. He will also punish me. I’m not allowed to see boys. He thinks I’m at Anna’s birthday party. He will be very, very angry with me. I don’t want him to be angry with me. Please you don’t understand, uncle Tommy.”

Tommy was studying your reaction closely. Oh he did understand.

“You really don’t want me to tell him?”, he asked, playing dumb.

“Yes, please don’t. I’ll do anything.”, you nodded. “I’ll bake you the carrot cake you like so much!”

“What if I want something else?”, he asked voice suddenly lower, his eyes darker.

He sounded much more like Joel now.

You frowned, not understanding. “You want me to bake you another cake?”

“Close. I do want something sweet from you.”

“Something sweet?”, you repeated still confused about what exactly he wanted “Like…chocolate?”

“Ya can’t be this dumb, sweetheart...”, Tommy chuckled.

You opened your mouth, but closed it immediately.

Dumb?

Tommy never called you dumb before.

“…Or should I say ‘slut’?”

That answered the question you had earlier; he did indeed heard everything you said to Dean…

You wished to drop dead on the spot, feeling utterly embarrassed.

You seriously didn’t know what to say. You just looked down and swallowed the wave of emotions down that were otherwise going to burst out of you in form of a mental breakdown.

“I’ll go home now.”, you whispered, when you found your strength to speak again. You stayed seated though, not making the move to stand up and go, as if you were waiting for Tommys permission—Something told you that he wouldn’t let you off the hook this easy.

He nodded and made a clicking sound with his tongue.

“I’ll bring you home…after you’ve convinced me not to tell Joel about the fact that his girl begs strange guys to treat her like a common whore. Wonder how he will take that...”

Tommys soft tone didn’t fit his vile words.

You could feel yourself shutting down—this happened a lot at the early stages of being with Joel, after he had brutally killed your father in front of your eyes and forced you to be with him, to act like everything was totally fine. You stared into the void, not willing to acknowledge the level of betrayal you were experiencing right now. He was blackmailing you.

You liked Tommy.

He was one of the good guys.

Tommy looked at you intensely, analysing your soft features. There was a war going on inside your confused little head, he could see.

He had always wondered how you still look this stunning during the end of times while everyone else’s looked like they been through the gutter. Even on the day you and Joel arrived at Jackson for the first time after a year of living in the wilderness that was now the whole country—you still looked like an angel. Joel did a good job of taking care of you, Tommy had to admit.

Tommy admired your devotion towards his older brother. The way you would look up at him, as if he was your god. Always searching for his approval, his affection, his permission. Joel was a cold bastard, leaving you empty and starved.

Or maybe he was just smart really, since you couldn’t get enough of him no matter what.

And when Joel introduced you to him that day, your pretty eyes lit up with excitement. Uncle Tommy, you called him, even though you were not the same blood. You called him that out of respect for Joel.

Tommy wasn’t stupid. He could see right through Joel’s facade of protective-father. Tommy was his brother after all. He could tell that Joel’s liking in you wasn’t of…innocent nature. Quite the opposite. It was much, much darker. He always knew. Your dynamics always seemed a little off to him. Joel hadn’t even looked at another women since he was in Jackson—he had no need to. He had you.

Tommys suspicion was confirmed when one day he saw Joel touching your ass. It was a few month ago at Christmas dinner. You were standing in front of the sink—washing dishes like the little slave you were for Joel—when suddenly he walked up to you, seemingly to bring you more plates to wash, when his hand grabbed a fistful of your soft ass, so tight his knuckles turned white—and you didn’t objected.

At first Tommy was angry. Disgusted even. Joel was like your fucking father. You called him “dad”, for fucks sake. It was disgusting, vile and wrong.

But then Tommy felt stupid for not putting one and one together much earlier. Why else would a guy like Joel take care of a girl that wasn’t even his own blood? What did he get out from feeding another mouth? What was his merit? What could a girl like you possibly give to a man like him that he wasn’t able to get for himself?

The answer was so obvious.

Tommy heaved himself up from the bench and let his eyes wander over the era, looking out for potential witnesses…

“Ya’got two options, sweetheart.”, he started. “First option; we go home and I tell my brother what just happened between you and Mr Bombshell. The kid will die most likely tomorrow on patrol and Joel will not let you out if his eyesight for the rest of your life. Second option…”

He looked down at your bare legs and licked his lips.

“You stand up, turn around and bend over…”

He paused for a second. “S’up to you.”

„Second.“, you whispered, you didn’t even need time to think about your answer—not that you where thinking anything at all right now. Your mind was blank.

There was nothing that Tommy could do to you, that Joel hadn’t already done. You feared Joel more. The answer was easy. Second option.

You hadn’t even realised that you got up, turned around and bend over. Holding onto the back of the bench tightly.

It was only when you felt Tommy lift your skirt up and your bottom was exposed to the cold night and Tommys hungry stare that you realised that there was no turning back.

You couldn’t see what Tommy was doing behind you, and a part of you was thankful for that; at least you didn’t have to look him in the eyes.

Tommy pulled his cock out. He was hard the second he heard you beg Dean to call you a slut. He gave himself a few pumps and then lined his cock up with your entrance. He wasted no time, immediately ramming all of him inside your juicy cunt.

Dean had worked you up good for him.

The invasion was sudden and forceful. You whined and your knees buckled. You clenched your teeth together.

Tommy started to fuck you the second he was in, leaving your body no time to adjust to his length. He was fucking your hard and fast. He was holding onto your petite shoulders tightly, hurting your flesh and bringing your body down to his in a forceful manner.

The sound of clapping skin was loud and sinful. It sounded so wrong in your ears. And it only got worse when Tommy started to grunt like an animal.

„Shit, girl. Never fucked a cunt as tight as yours.“, he hissed. „Fuck.“

You started to cry. Not because you were in pain, but because you were about to cum…

„Stop please.“, you cried. You didn’t want to cum. Not for Tommy. You didn’t want him to think you enjoyed his assault.

“Your body is betraying you. You like it.”, you remember Joel say to you the first time he took you against your will.

This isn’t normal. I’m not normal. I’m sick. I’m a sick girl.

You started to cry even harder, or were you moaning?It was a mixture of both and it was pathetic. Your were so close. You cunt got even tighter around Tommy. He could feel it.

“You wanna cum little slut?”, he laughed, a nasty dirty laugh. He gave your ass a hard slap.

“No!”, you cried out. “Please stop!”

It wasn’t your fault. You were wet since Joel had fucked your throat earlier today and left you on the ground sexually frustrated. Then there was Dean who had spend minutes fingering you while kissing your neck. It wasn’t because of Tommy.

It’s not because of Tommy.

The more you tried to work against it, the pressure inside you only intensified. You couldn’t hold it out any longer.

You came.

You came around his cock.

First your legs started to shake—it was like a wave—then your whole body. Your thoughts were completely flushed away. Your were biting your lip so hard that you could taste blood on your tongue.

“That’s my girl.”, Tommy praised and kept fucking you hard. “God, you are so hot, sweetheart. I see why Joel keeps you around.”

After you came down from your orgasm you were basically jelly. Without Tommy holding you in place you would be panting on the ground by now. He kept ramming his cock inside you a few more times before pulling out.

He turned you around and manhandled you on your knees.

“Hold your palms out, bitch. C’mon.”, he barked and grabbed your wrist and yanked them up.

You put your palms together and held them up.

He frantically stroked his cock while grunting and growling like a wolf before finally releasing himself inside your hands.

A poodle of your uncles warm, sticky, hot cum could now be found inside your shaking hands. You didn’t dare to drop it. You didn’t move, holding your palms up as if his cum was holy.

The tears had dried on your face. You looked up at Tommy, waiting for him to finally end your suffering.

You wanted to run home.

He put his cock back inside his jeans and pulled out a cigarette. Exhausted.

“Eat it.”, he said and pointed his cigarette at his cum.

He wanted to see how far he could go with you. He wanted to know how well his brother had trained you.

“C’mon, eat it up.”, he repeated when he saw your confused face.

You hesitantly brought your shaking hands closer to your lips. If you had anything in your stomach right now, you would’ve puked it all out. You carefully took a small lick from his cum and cringed a little. It was salty. But soon you found the taste to be familiar. It tasted like Joel’s.

“Be careful not to drop anythin. We don’t want Joel to find cum on you, do we? He might think it belongs to Dean…”

You shook your head and carefully licked your palms clean. Eating your uncles cum.

Tommy watched you intensely. You looked like a little kitten drinking her milk. He was already hard again. He would definitely think about this image of you when he would fuck his wife later tonight.

“Good job, sweetheart.”, he praised you. “Now C’mon. Let’s get’ya home. And you better thing about an excuse why you look like someone had fucked you silly…we don’t want Joel to get suspicious.”

He pointed at you puffy red eyes and ran down mascara.

He helped you up from the ground and you silently followed him home.

————

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joonberriess · 2 years ago

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⊹₊ ⋆ “i just can’t wait for love to destroy us,”

TAGS — praise kink, soft smut, lazy sex, rough sex, jealousy, POSSESSIVE JK HEHE, lots of dirty talk, breeding kink, creampies, daddy kink, it’s really soft :(

WORD COUNT — 4.2 k

BEFORE…

You never thought you’d find yourself in a position where your first serious relationship was someone twice your age and was old enough to be your father. If you would have told the fifteen year old you that your love interests derived from your daddy issues she would have looked at you like you were insane. You still had a bit of trouble believing your case.

It wasn’t that you regretted getting into a relationship with Jungkook, quite the contrary, he was everything you could ever ask for. Besides, it was a guilty pleasure of yours whenever you thought about the circumstances of your relationship with the latter. The fact that he was older and the relationship taboo made it all more exciting for you.

However the thing that excited you more was Jungkook’s possessive streak and jealousy. Jungkook knew the game given that he had done it himself when he was your age and messing with girls, and one thing he disliked was the amount of boys who were after you. You were a pretty little thing it was obvious you’d have suitors here and there chasing after you.

You paid them no mind like you always did even before Jungkook. Whenever another guy approached, flirted, or even dared to look your way Jungkook sure as hell did not appreciate any of that. The first time it happened Jungkook made sure to fuck you so good the only thing you could think about was him, him, him. The more jealous he was the rougher the sex.

He’d say things like “Can’t have my baby running off with those nasty boys,” everytime he was in one of his moods. You secretly loved how possessive he was over you, making sure to leave dark hickeys on your neck and if he was feeling bolder, he left them down your thighs for the world to see whenever you wore those pretty little skirts.

His words were one-hundred times more filthier when he was fucking you like no tomorrow. His hips would be snapping harshly into yours over and over again, with him pinning you to the bed. Jungkook has his face tucked away in the crook of your neck while he tightens his grip on your hips. A soft low growl leaves him when he suddenly recalls how that stupid guy had the audacity to cat call you and even boldly ask for your number in front of “your old man”.

“Bet he wouldn’t be able to fuck you like this sweetheart,” he rasps in your ear, “you need a man to fuck you, ain’t that right baby?” He hits a particular spot inside of you, causing a tiny whine to escape, “Gonna have to ruin this little pussy so next time you even think about anyone else you remember how good I fucked you.” He teasingly nips at your neck.

Jungkook didn’t talk about it much but it was obvious he was a tad bit insecure over the age-gap with you. You were young, he was older, and without a doubt you still had the world to explore. He didn’t want to be the reason you stopped all of that just for him, sometimes he felt like it was going too fast for you. You thought otherwise.

Hani wondered a lot too about your interests in guys from campus. She asked a lot too. “Sooo are we going to ignore the obvious elephant in the room?” She elbows you with a soft smirk, “I mean I can’t be the only one who saw that back there?”

You hold your books tighter against your chest and side-eye, upon seeing her little shit-eating grin you roll your eyes, “Jesus Hani,” you whisper shaking your head, “it’s nothing, I don’t even know him like that. Stop..!” You smack her arm, watching her laugh loudly, “I’m not interested in him or anyone here for the matter of fact.”

“Really..?” Hani snorts, “So you like no one, you sure about that? Or is there something you’re not telling me? Cause there’s no way I just watched you reject that cutie back there.” She grins, poking your side, “Ooh I get it, you like someone from somewhere else don’t you?”

“Hani!” You giggle, “Stop, I’m not going to tell you who it is..!”

“So there is someone!” She squeals, wrapping her arms around you and happily leading you off to the parking lot, “Awww how cute, do you really like him a lot? Is he super nice and handsome? Do you guys go out on dates??” She rambles off.

You shyly smile at her and nod, “We do Hani, and yes he’s super nice and handsome like you say. I really like him a lot, he makes me happy, you know?” You softly say.

“Damn, and he doesn’t worry at all? You’re quite the catch girl, if I were him I’d be thinking ‘bout you twenty-four seven. The long distance doesn’t make him sad and stuff?” She softly pouts.

You shake your head, “No not really. I talk with him a lot and we hang out sometimes when I’m not busy with work or class. It’s all good if I’m being honest Hani.” You trail off, mind wandering to other things.

“Gonna make sure all those little boys know who the fuck I am sweetheart, hm? Go on and tell daddy who you belong to?”

Heat spreads all over your body as you silently check out, not really paying attention to a word Hani is saying to you. Hani is rambling that’s for sure, but you’re so lost in your obscene thoughts you pray she doesn’t notice you subtly rubbing your thighs together. Did the weather recently get hotter or was it just you..?

“There you go, you look so good taking me like that baby.. Go on, show daddy how much you love my cock.”

“y/n!” Hani yells, “Are you even listening to me?” She pouts.

You snap out of your thoughts and turn to her, “I’m sorry, what were you saying? I kinda spaced out.” You chuckle nervously, embarrassed she caught you in the throes of your daydreams.

“I asked if you wanted to get some lunch? On me,” she smiles gently as she unlocks the car, “sometimes I wonder what goes on in your pretty little head.” She chuckles, slipping into the driver seat.

You blink slowly, still a little dazed but you mumble “ ‘s nothing really.” and then slip into the car. You spend the rest of the car ride thinking about Jungkook..

NOW..

Jungkook hadn’t left you alone after finding out you were pregnant and you were terrified he was going to slip up and Hani would find out. Of course you didn’t mind his clinginess since you had spent a good week to yourself in fear, terrified about how he’d react to the pregnancy and whether or not he would accept it. Right now you felt like you could use the comfort and closeness he had to offer.

“Fuck I haven’t felt like this since I found out about Hani years ago.” Jungkook murmurs one night when you’re both laying in bed together. Hani was out for the weekend since she was traveling down to meet her mom somewhere for a girl’s weekend. “I don’t know how to feel, but I am happy that’s for sure.” He grins softly, rubbing over your tummy.

You timidly smile back at him and nuzzle closer, “I’m a little nervous but I think I’ll feel better once I’m closer to giving birth and stuff.” You softly murmur and play with Jungkook’s necklace.

Jungkook gently settles his hand over your hip and squeezes, “Are you hungry baby? I don’t remember much about pregnancy and stuff but how’s the morning sickness? Cravings?” He smoothly rubs his hand over you with a lovestruck expression on his handsome face.

You shrug, “The morning sickness is dying down, it isn’t as bad as before.. And well I don’t know about my cravings, I wanna eat a lot of weird things but they’re embarrassing to talk about.” You quietly huff, angrily pouting as you avoid his gaze.

Jungkook snorts softly, “Weird? There’s no such thing as weird baby, tell me one of your cravings. Let me hear how “weird” it is.”

“I like to eat pickles dipped in strawberry yogurt. Sometimes I even go to those convenience stores and buy pizza rolls to eat with peanut butter, oh and I really love to eat the chicken Hani brings dipped in honey!” You smile innocently, “ ‘s the baby to be honest, they’re the ones making me eat all this weird stuff.”

Jungkook’s shoulders begin to shake and you pout, “You just told me there’s no such thing as weird, why are you laughing?” You huff, “Hey..! Stop laughing at me.” You whine.

“I’m sorry baby but you’re so fucking cute, lookin’ so proud of yourself..” He chuckles, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, “I can picture it now, pickles and peanut butter covered nuggets.”

Your eyes widen, “I didn’t think of it like that, wow… so cool..” You trail off, mouth watering already as Jungkook laughs in the background.

Hani doesn’t come back until the end of the weekend, and you certainly took advantage of it. Jungkook and you fucked like rabbits all over the house, being as loud as you wanted given that there was no one around. It felt nice not having to stay quiet or on alert during sex.

The night Hani returned she had stated she was too tired to even shower, opting to say goodnight to you and Jungkook as she went upstairs to her room. You were planning on going to your own room to sleep in but Jungkook’s sultry gaze said another thing. You ended up following him to his room as quietly as possible, hoping Hani stayed knocked out for the rest of the night.

One thing led to another and you two had a quickie before bed. You went to bed sleeping like a baby, happily satisfied after being fucked thoroughly. Jungkook slept with an arm around your waist, faced tucked away in your neck as he breathed your strawberry scent in. You had gone to bed in one of his shirts with only your panties underneath.

All was peaceful until about two am when your bleary eyes opened after feeling Jungkook’s hand creep up the shirt to gently massage your sore tit in his big hand. Jungkook was half-awake, grumbling quietly as he tried to pull you in closer. At first you thought he was sleep groping you but then you felt his hard throbbing cock pressed up against your thigh through his boxers.

“.. Jungkook?” You murmur, turning on your side to face him as you cup his cheek.

He nuzzles into your hand and hums, “Yeah..?”

You gently peck his lips three times, each little kiss lasting longer than the last one, “Can feel you.” You softly say.

He lazily rolls his hips against yours and slithers his hand out from under the shirt, instead choosing to grip your hip. “Can you?” He has a coy sleepy smile, “Maybe we should do something about it?” His voice is husky and rough from sleep, his eyes flutter open and he looks at you with want and lust.

You eagerly press against him, tossing your leg over his hip and trying to grind yourself against his cock. “Please,” you bite your lip, all drowsiness slowly leaving your body.

Jungkook leans over to bring you into a slow but deep kiss, “I got you baby, let daddy do all the work.” He says and begins tugging your panties down your thighs.

You tuck your face in the crook of his neck and suck on the soft patch of skin while he blindly reaches over for the lube that sits on the nightstand. You hear the sound of the cap opening and Jungkook lathering some lube between his fingertips. Your breath hitches in excitement, hooking your thigh over his hip firmly to make sure he has enough space to fit his fingers, and then his cock in.

Jungkook doesn’t bother with slipping his sweatpants all the way down, cock slapping against his stomach as it springs out of its confinement. He hisses low and strokes over his throbbing cock, making sure to coat it in the lube before he presses the tip between your soft folds.

“Gonna fuck you pretty girl.” He whispers.

Your lips part as a breathy moan escapes, hips twitching as his cock fills your cunt to the brim. There’s an audible squelch in the background and then a wet slap following in suit when he bottoms out. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

He draws another moan from you when he ruts against you slowly, cock pressing in deep. Jungkook groans softly, hand tightening around your hip in effort to hold himself back from fucking into you roughly. He starts up at a slower and lazier pace, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of your soft pussy wrapped around his cock.

You wrap a hand around the back of his neck, playing with his hair as he gently fucks into you. Soft little moans leave you here and there, the squelching gets louder as your pussy drools over his cock. Pleasure bubbles up in your tummy, adding to the heat you feel deep inside. Jungkook’s hitting every spot that leaves you quivering underneath him.

“So good for me,” he moans out, “can feel you gripping me so good baby.” He pants hotly against your lips.

You let out a long moan and your eyes fluttered shut as your pussy clamped down on his cock. His hips stuttered in their movements, a gasp escaping him while he weakly snapped his hips upwards. You reached down to rub fast small circles onto your clit, whining and moaning breathlessly because your orgasm is rapidly building up, you’re definitely going to be sleeping well after this.

“Cum for me baby, make a mess on daddy’s cock.” He rasps out, hips kicking forward faster and faster.

There’s audible wet slaps, the bed creaks lightly from the force and Jungkook’s groaning becomes louder. You manage to muffle your cry as you bury your face away in his neck, gripping him tightly and letting go. Your cunt gushes around his cock, making a mess alongside the lube he had already lathered on his cock. The sound is fucking filthy and your lower half is soaked from your slick.

He mutters curses under his breath, hips slamming forward until he stills, roughly pressing up against you and making sure his cock is buried deep while he cums. “Fuckkkk,” he whispers out contentedly. Cleanup is a fairly quiet ordeal and you end up going back to sleep in his arms.

The next morning after Jungkook leaves for work, you make your way downstairs with a tired sigh. You had made sure to wear your own pajamas because Hani was home for the day since she had no classes nor work. Hani was in the kitchen cooking something, humming under her breath as she sang some new song you heard on the radio.

“Oh, hey,” she smiles brightly at you, “just in time I made us some breakfast,” she showed you the pan full of hot food, “did you sleep well?”

You nod slowly, “I woke up like once because I had to puke but it wasn’t too bad, how about you?” You take a seat on the stool by the kitchen island, licking your lips hungrily as she serves you a portion of what she had made.

“Could have been better, I heard dad last night. I didn’t think he had it in him still but I stand corrected.” She laughs, shaking her head, “Like Jesus did he sleep with a vampire? His neck was all bruised up this morning!”

Your blood runs cold, you stare at the food trying not to show your obvious guilt and nervousness. Hani luckily turns her back to you as she opens the fridge in search of some juice, “That’s good though, dad rarely goes out these days so I’m sure last night was like something magical for him.” She snorts.

“Yeah,” you trail off, “magical.”

Growing up in a somewhat conservative home altered your mind as an adult, not by a lot but some things stuck with you. It primarily had to do with the fact that you were so desperate for your parents’ approval you were willing to change everything about yourself to fit their standards. It wasn’t until Hani broke you out of the cycle that you started thinking more about what you liked and wanted to try.

Although you were still a tad bit shy, you were more eager to try new things. That’s how you found yourself at a lingerie store, nervously clutching your bag around your body as you slowly stepped in. The store obviously had its sections to choose from, but this was all too new for you. It was quite overwhelming.

You timidly looked around and eyed the different displays showing off the raunchy designs, some downright scandalous and others simple and dainty. Your mind was racing and it was too much to take in and you began thinking it was a bad idea after all. As you turned to walk back out, a worker called out to you.

“Are you finding everything alright Miss?” She smiles warmly.

“Oh, uh, yeah I’m fine,” you nervously squeak out, “just browsing is all..”

“Are you looking for anything in particular? Need a bra size check?” She holds up her measuring tape.

You chew on your bottom lip and look around again, “I actually came to get something to surprise my boyfriend with.” You admit softly, “It’s my first time so I don’t really know what is.. Good?”

She chuckles softly, “Well we have a lot of new sets and designs that just came in about a week ago, can I show you? Besides, it’s not about what’s “good” it’s about what you like.” She ends up showing you a whole collection of pretty and dainty lingerie sets, not too raunchy but not too innocent either.

In the end you go with a pastel baby pink set which is really just a bra, cheeky panties, and a garter set. You buy the stockings to go along with it and take your purchase with you home. You’re excited, practically bouncing in happiness as you reach home and start to get ready.

You take your time showering and then preparing afterwards, lathering yourself in lotions and oils. At first you kind of don’t know how to put the garter belt on and then it turns into you struggling with the stockings. When you finally finish the look you’re left sitting in your bed tired, “Damn, this is harder than I imagined.” You sighed.

You stand up after a couple of minutes and head over to your mirror, gasping quietly at the sight of you. The panties cup your ass perfectly, both cheeks sitting so pretty and your tits cupped in the silk bra. Something about the garter belt makes you flush in excitement and arousal. You must admit that you look fucking hot in the lingerie set.

“I wonder if he’s on his way..” You mumble, going to check your phone for any new messages from Jungkook.

jungkookkk<3 : on my way, i stopped by to pick up some lunch for us.

You bite your lip and send him a quick text saying you’d be in his room waiting for him then. It doesn’t take long for him to come, you’re laying in his bed trying to calm your nerves and excitement. “Baby I’m home!” You hear him toss his keys into the bowl and shuffle around in the foyer and then kitchen.

“Up here,” you call back, leaning back on your elbows and raising your leg in the direction of the door as you pretend to admire your stocking clad thighs.

Jungkook appears a few minutes later, he’s talking about something that he saw on his way over when he suddenly stops in his tracks. His eyes widen and jaw goes slack, standing there as he admires your lingerie clad form. “Jesus…” he whispers, bag falling from his hand, “When did you get this?”

You smile softly, “Today.. I wanted to surprise you,” you teasingly spread your legs, “do you like it daddy?” You say in an innocent tone, a coy smile on your lips.

He loosens his tie and eyes you up and down, “Like it? Baby I fucking love it.” He slams the door shut and locks it behind him as he stalks forward like a predator, “You’re so fucking sexy, sitting there like you did nothing wrong. You could make a grown ass man cry sweetheart,” he climbs over you, gently pushing you back on to the bed, “Aren’t I the luckiest fucking bastard.” He smirks.

You bite your lip and look up at him, “Aren’t you gonna show me how much you love it daddy?” You wrap an arm around his neck, “I got all dolled up for you.”

Jungkook groans at that, “All for me baby?” When you nod in response he leans down to leave a flutter of kisses up your chest and neck, “Fuck you’re driving me crazy, just the thought of any other motherfucker seeing you like this pisses me off.” He growls, “No one else can have you isn’t that right baby? Who does this pussy belong to?”

You eagerly bring him down for a kiss, “You daddy,” you softly whisper against his lips, “ ‘s why I’m pregnant, cause you bred me well.”

Jungkook moans at that, his hands stop to hover over your tummy as he gently presses down and rubs it slowly, “Fuck,” he whispers, “my pretty little mama,” A quiet mewl leaves your lips when he calls you that and he chuckles, “oh you like that don’t you?” When you nod, he decides to take pity on you, “I’m gonna give you what you need baby,”

And that he does..

Jungkook takes his sweet time, eating you like you’re his last meal on this earth. He has you begging and sobbing for more because of how overstimulating it is as he fucks his tongue in and out of you. Jungkook fingers you gently, stroking over your g-spot over and over again until you’re squirting all over him.

When he deems you wet enough (as if he didn’t fingerfuck you into oblivion) he fucks you. You babble against his lips about how you can take him, how you want him to fuck you harder and not hold back. Jungkook hesitates but when you begin to grind on him desperately he loses all sense of control he thought he had.

Jungkook fucks into you harder, hips slamming into yours over and over again. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass and the squelching of your pussy ring through both ears. You lie there helplessly taking it as moans and whimpers flow out. You can barely feel your thighs, your poor clit is trapped between you and him, rubbing up against his pelvis sorely.

“Fuck,” Jungkook pants from the effort, hips rolling quickly and roughly, nearly sending you up the bed and towards the headboard. “So fucking sloppy for me.” He grits his teeth.

His cock throbs weakly inside of you as he goes on and on about how sexy you look for him in the lingerie set, “So glad I was the one to put a baby in you,” he slurs out, “you’re gonna look so fucking beautiful full of our child. Everyone’s gonna know I bred you so well,” he leans down to mouth at your nipple, “you’re mine sweetheart.”

You cry out weakly when he begins aiming his thrusts to hit your g-spot with every thrust he lands on you. Your toes curl in pleasure and you weakly grab at his shoulders to steady yourself. “Jungkook..!” You sob out, “ ‘m yours..! Yours..!” You moan out, back arching off the bed.

You grit your teeth in pleasure and throw your head back, “S-So close,” you croak, “gonna cum..” Your vision is blurred by the tears of pleasure forming in your eyes.

Jungkook reaches down below you two to rub his skilled fingers against your clit, “Go on then, cum for me,” he growls out.

It only takes a couple more swipes for you to cum, a silent cry leaving you as your hands grip his shoulders tightly. Your pussy squirts around his cock, leaving you breathless and shaking from the pleasure. Jungkook seems surprised you squirt on him but it doesn’t deter him. He keeps pushing you, until you��re sobbing that it’s too much.

He lets out a long moan when he cums, pressing in as he holds you tight and makes sure you don’t move so as to not waste a single drop of his cum. It’s messy down below but he doesn’t have the energy to get up. Neither do you, in fact you end up lying there trying to catch your breath.

“Hey.” He softly whispers and turns to face you.

“Hi..” You croak out.

“I love you.” He smiles tiredly.

Your eyes well with tears and you smile back, “..I love you too.”

TAGLIST: @fragmentof-indifference @jungkooksseuphoria @kooliv @angelarin @jjeonjjk7 @lilliankoo @pb-n-juju @ellesalazar @saweetspoiled @laylasbunbunny @prettyprincejk @cherrysainttt @hyunjinswifeee @joongraduatewithonor @hellbornsworld @leire-mia @m1sss1mp @lissful @winkii @lifeless-firefly @exactlygreatcoffee @taestoess @ayalies @floweryjeons @softtcurse @lilspinachwrld

#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut

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vixenihy · 1 month ago

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Reunion: A Flash Fiction

Summary: October 17, 1963. Mrs. Kennedy finally returns from her trip to Greece, and her husband is waiting for her and ready to welcome her home.

Tags/Notes + Pairing: jfk x jackie kennedy, mentions of past infidelity, improved relationship, loss of child mention, caroline and john jr. are in it too lol.

Word Count: 897 words

A/N: this one is shorter and a bit messier than my last fic :,( i’ve been having quite a bit of brain fog so unfortunately some things may be a little off. sorry guys!! i hope you enjoy it <3 divider was made by @/ aquazero. hope you guys caught the jackie 2016 reference ;)

Jack sits in the backseat of the car, nervously playing with his hands in the darkness. Every so often, he looks out onto the empty runway only illuminated by blinking lights. Jackie will be here any minute now, but why do those minutes have to pass so slowly?

The past few weeks had been awfully rough without Jackie; The depression and headaches he acquired from his withdrawals after finally being able to stay abstinent and cut himself away from the rest of his ‘women’ was rough. He’d been so used to that lifestyle, he never realized how addicted he was until he found himself desperately writing a letter at midnight to a woman he had ended his affair with over a year prior. When he read the letter the next morning, he embarrassingly shoved it in the bottom of his desk with the intention of discarding it.

Having to continue to mourn the loss of Patrick on his own after Jackie left was even worse. Sure, he had dealt with plenty of things on his own before, and Jackie had been there for him up until the day she left; but there were times at work where he felt so alone. He didn’t dare bother his wife about it when she was recuperating from the loss. So when he got off the phone with Jackie, there was no one to call, no one to talk to, and no one to see. Just cabinet members and paperwork. When he cried in his wife’s arms that day, he felt as if his eyes were opened to a new world. To be comforted by someone he loved dearly and not shunned for crying made him feel…loved… Though this was an incredible realization for him, he didn’t feel comfortable opening himself up like that with anyone else; at least not yet. Joan was there for him when he secluded himself in his room and didn’t come out, and he’d gotten a few sympathy calls here and there; but it just wasn’t the same as that morning when he felt Jackie lovingly wrap her arms around him as he let his emotions run like a river.

“Daddy, look!” Caroline exclaims, pointing out the window with that innocent smile she shares with her father. “I think I see mommy!” She continues, climbing over her dad and brother to see the plane landing in the once empty runway. Jack can’t help but smile at her excitement and

“I think you’re right, Buttons! Lets go out there and meet her. But stay close to me okay? Don’t run out in front of the plane before they put the stairs down.” He instructs, opening the car door and stepping out before taking Caroline and John’s hands into his.

“I wanna go on the plane!!” John shouts, pulling against his fathers hand as they approach the runway. Jack does his best to hide his own excitement as the stairs are placed in front of the door. And as soon as the door opens, Jack bends down as best he can.

“Go on, go give mommy a hug.” He tells them before rising and letting them rush off ahead of him and climb the stairs.

As Jack follows his children, he finally comes face to face with the woman he missed so dearly.

Jackie looks just as beautiful as she did when she left, and as she rises from greeting Caroline and John to look him in the eyes, she looks just as happy to see him as he does for her.

Without a word, Jack leans over and takes Jackie in his arms. His back issues and lack of experience in physical contact makes his hugs quite stiff, but Jackie doesn’t mind one bit.

Jackie pulls back slightly and wraps her arm around her husbands neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

“I missed you, Jack.” She sighs, shuffling the two of them away from the open door so that they can’t be photographed by the swarm of paparazzi outside and holding him close.

“I missed you too, Jackie…” Jack smiles, letting go of his wife and glancing at the open door leading out the crowds of photographers awaiting the First Lady’s return.

“You’ve got quite an audience out there…Are you ready?” He asks teasingly, brushing a lock of hair out of Jackie’s eyes.

“Of course, I love crowds.” She replies, her voice laced with sarcasm. She pulls away from her husband and reveals herself to the sea of cameras. They run their films and snap their flashbulbs at the family as they descend the stairs and make their way to the car waiting for them. Jackie is the first to enter the car, then the children, and finally Jack.

“It’s good to have you home, Mrs. Kennedy. Now, why don’t you tell me about Greece. I take it that you had a good time?” Jack teases, reaching his arm over their children clinging to their mother so that he can put his arm over her shoulder.

“You’ll know when we get home….” Jackie smiles back, giving her husband a discreet wink before looking down at Caroline and John, who had managed to fall asleep in their mothers lap. “But first, I think it’s time for bed.” She finishes quietly just as the car comes to a stop in front of the White House…

#tw loss of child mention #tw past infidelity #jfk #kennedyposting #john f kennedy #john fitzgerald kennedy #jfk x jackie #fic #flash fiction #jackie kennedy #the kennedys #jacqueline kennedy

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badfanfictionaire · 2 months ago

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The woods of Hawkins, Indiana were once the most feared lands in the continental US. From 1963 to 1986 the townsfolk didn’t dare step foot into the forest, especially at night, for one reason and one reason alone: cannibals.

Now one of Indiana’s best kept secrets, the cannibalism issue was once a rampant and horrific problem that no one could escape. Everyone knew someone who had been killed and eaten. Rumors swirled as to who was responsible for the killings, but a close knit group of students from the local high school knew the truth: it was the Coventry High football team.

Ironically, or not, the Coventry team was called the Coventry Cannibals. That wasn’t what started the rumor though. It also wasn’t why the Hawkins students knew the truth.

See, one of the Hawkins High students, a poplar jock type by the name of Edgar Milton, had witnessed a rival student from Coventry chewing on the fingers of a dead man. He’d stumbled away from a party and nearly tripped over the grisly scene. Too drunk to name the cannibal, the story he told wasn’t widely believed. That is, until his girlfriend Crystal Casablanca, saw a similar scene in the woods behind her house. People believed her because she was notoriously a straight shooter and didn’t drink. From that night on, tension was high in Hawkins. If cannibals were able to infiltrate the pearly gates of Loch Nora, they could easily be anywhere in town.

Parents locked their kids away at night. The schools canceled all extracurriculars after sunset. Even the high school’s beloved Dungeons and Dragons club, the Hellfire Club, was forced to reschedule their meetings to a morning slot.

People told stories, most of them were just tall tales, of students in the woods with veins in their teeth and blood dripping from their mouths. Teens claimed that cannibals had eaten their toes, their pets, even their siblings. Nothing, and no one, was safe.

It all came to and end one fateful night when an illustrious detective pulled into town. His beat up red Chevy didn’t look like much, but he had a reputation for closing the most dangerous criminal cases in history. This detective was none other than Walter Milton, the great grandfather of Eddie Milton-

“Daddy, I thought you said his name was Edgar Milton.”

“Yeah daddy, it was Edgar!”

“Eddie can be a nickname for Edgar, honey buns.”

“Is your name Edgar, daddy?”

“No, peanut. Daddy’s name isn’t Edgar.”

“That’s because your name is daddy.”

“No his name is Edmund!”

“Girls, girls, no fighting! Come on, don’t you want me to finish the story?”

“Does uncle Wayne save the day?”

“What? No, uncle Wayne isn’t in-”

“Then who is old Mr. Milton?”

“These are all fictional characters!”

“Daddy, I want to be in the story!”

“Yeah, I want a Canadian to eat me! Please daddy? Can I be in it?! Please!”

“Fine, you both can be in it. Ok, where was I…”

👻👻👻👻

(Read on AO3)

#stranger things #eddie munson lives #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie x chrissy #edssy #hellcheer #hellcheer week 2024 #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham lives #chrissy cunningham

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harrywavycurly · 10 months ago

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Is Dorothy gonna be a trouble maker? I feel like she’s going to want to fight everyone like her mom but be a big softy like Eddie 🥹🥹

Hiii babes!! So I feel like she’s a mixture of both of them as in she’s gonna say what’s on her mind but also really fun to be around😂 I’ll give you some examples!💖

-find all things It Was Just One Night here✨

*in these Dorothy is around 7/8 and the nicknames Reader gives Dotty are ones my mom used for me lol*

“So wanna know what our darling little girl did at school today sweetheart?” “Uh let me guess she…learned something?” “Well…she learned what the inside of the principal’s office looks like.” “Ohh dot…Is it tacky? She strikes me as being very beige.” “Yes mom you’d hate-” “uh excuse me…why don’t you tell your mother why you had to go to the office?” “What’d you do sugar butt? Who’d you make cry today?” “Uhm…well it was…uh…my…teacher.” “Your teacher? You made your teacher cry?” “Not cry but she was…upset but all I asked her to do was look at me when she was talking to me because that’s what you always tell daddy when he’s not listening to you and…she wasn’t listening to what I was saying so I asked her politely…I used my manners and everything…I just asked if she could just please look at me while I’m speaking….” “Well…what did the principal say to you?” “She said that I need to talk to my teachers with respect and be patient with them since there’s twenty of us and only one of her…” “and did you apologize to your teacher?” “No….I didn’t think she deserved an apology since I didn’t do anything wrong and you’ve always said don’t say things you don’t mean…” “right…yeah okay uh…why don’t you go work on your homework while your dad and I talk about this okay?” Okay…” “how the fuck done handle this Eddie? We can’t punish her for asking for her teacher to pay attention to her and she’s right…we do always tell her not to say things she doesn’t mean.” “I say we let this issue slide but if she’s a regular in the principal’s office then we’ve got to be a little more…stern…or…something.” “Right because that’s us…super stern and strict.”

“Uncle Steve is getting married? To someone we don’t know?” “No sugar he’s just going to a wedding.” “With someone we don’t know? What if she’s mean? Or doesn’t have good hair?” “I’m sure she’s nice…now the hair thing I’m not sure anyone is going to live up to your uncle Steve’s fabulous hair.” “Mom be serious…he can’t go with a stranger…we should go with him.” “Sugar he didn’t ask us to go…what if he brings her by so we can meet her would that make you feel better?” “Yes…I’ll go call him.” “Okay…go call him and ask if he’d like to bring her to dinner this week but don’t you dare call her the stranger you hear me? That’s not nice.” “Then what do I call her?” “His girlfriend…just say hey uncle Steve do you and your girlfriend want to come have dinner with us this week? And go from there…” “okay but he’s not coming over on chicken nugget night…”

“Dad can I ask you a question?” “Sure princess what’s up?” “Did you really have your head in your ass?” “Excuse me? Where did you hear that?” “Granddaddy…he said that when you met mom that it took you a while to get your head outta your ass and ask her out…” “I’m gonna kill-” “oh you’re not gonna kill anyone…now sugar no your dad didn’t actually have his head in his ass that’s just a figure of speech…like when someone says it’s hotter than hell outside or when your grandaddy says he’s as full as a tick…does that make sense?” “I thought so…because that’s not physically possible.” “Also you know those are no no words….” “Sorry dad but mom said I’m allowed to say bad words if it’s part of a story or repeating what someone said…” “did she now?” “What? It’s logical…I didn’t know Wayne was gonna go and tell her something like that.” “That’s fine Princess but just don’t say that phrase outside of the house okay?” “Okay dad.”

#one night stand convos #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie and wayne munson #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

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actuallyevilgay · 1 year ago

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Hear me out, one of Tav’s parents went missing when he was very young. Later he finds out that the reason why his parent went missing was because Astarion lured them to Cazador.

I hope you read my about, Anon. This might go a little different than you expected. My first request :o I’m excited.

Oneshot: Daddy Issues

Astarion x male reader Content Warnings: Discussion of child abuse and child neglect. Mature language. Talk of Adultery. Notes: Tav gets a little unhinged from the doorframe. Tav is not a heroic person. Might not be lore friendly?

…..

The venture into Cazador’s palace was anything but easy, the smell of neglect radiated over the place. It made you wonder if the vampire lord even cared for keeping up appearances, but knowing how some vampires made their rule.. They probably cared more about causing fear than looking as good as they say in romance novels… There was nothing romantic about this place. The allure could’ve been a fantasy for the many victims Astarion was forced to lure into this damned place.

You wouldn’t lie, if this place was given a massive makeover.. It might actually make a nice home. Yet, it was better to keep that banter for after the upcoming battle. Astarion’s unease made your neck hairs stand on edge. You protectively placed yourself in front of Astarion whenever the party turned another corner. His undead lungs consistently caught a large breath at every stop. Like he was about to walk into another nightmare.

Certainly he would, and so would you. The dungeon’s elevator let in an air of absolute disgust. Not just the smell.. The sight of all the victims in cages.

After Sebastian lunged for Astarion in rage, you pulled him back. ‘’This is not your fault.’’ A part of you wanted to judge the poor noble for being stupid, on the other hand.. You didn’t have it in you to mentally process what this could mean. Being another one of Astarion’s victims? No.. No. Don’t you dare even think about it. This guy is already dead, walking into the trap was his own fault. You on the other hand, were here to help Astarion kill Cazador. He may have tried to seduce you under false pretences, but you fell for each other despite all that. You wanted to give him the world. You were not his victim.

‘’They’re all here.’’ He muttered. ‘’Gods. They’re all here.’’

You looked at him with a reassuring glance. ‘’Don’t think about it. Think about yourself.’’ The conflict in Astarion’s eyes remained briefly, pushing at the sides of his mind. He shook his head. ‘’..You’re right. There’s no use in lingering in the past.. Not now.’’

Confident, the party began to cross the room, ignoring the sights of all the vampire spawn in the cages. ‘’Maybe we should.. Free them?’’ Gale uttered, doubtful. ‘’And unleash a horde of ravenous vampire spawn?’’ Shadowheart spit back at the wizard. ‘’They look like they’ve never even fed!’’

Astarion shuddered, wanting to be out of here as soon as possible. He had to face this.

To your regret, as he turned to you once more for guidance, a familiar voice called out.

‘’Tav..? Son- Is that you?’’

You felt bile rise up in your stomach. You haven’t heard this voice since you were at least ten years old. ‘’My, so this is where you’ve been, after all this?’’ You started to laugh in amusement, making everyone around you raise their brows in confusion.

Astarion looked to you, then to the man speaking to you.. He blinked, unsure if this was one of his victims. You made eye contact with the vampire, your expression unreadable.

‘’Don’t worry, I’m not judging you.’’ You noted, before turning back to the man who had abandoned you. ‘’You.. On the other hand.’’

‘’Wait- Does that mean Astarion slept with your-’’ Shadowheart cut herself off as you glared at her. You did not want to envision that at all. Gross.

‘’Oh I remember that night..’’ Your father’s voice sounded as drunk and hazy as when he left. Maybe that was simply his natural state of being, but you did not care.

‘’..Do you have anything to say that isn’t an attempt to insult me?’’ Your response sounded as bitter as you felt. ‘’Poor dear old dad, seduced by one of his many conquests into damnation. Absolutely perfect. Congratulations.’’

Astarion eyed you, remembering how little you spoke of your past. Maybe.. To distract him, you might as well indulge your loved one. ‘’This man, this man.. Is why my mother left. It’s why I grew up eating moldy bread in the streets.’’ You shook your arms. ‘’This is.. Amazing. I can’t believe he’s here. No- I can. This is actually a good thing.’’ You felt the spiteful laughter tugging your throat. You wanted to laugh until you couldn’t breathe.

‘’Darling..’’ Astarion looked at you with some concern in his voice, unsure what to say.

‘’Damned little son of a bitch! Let me out of here!’’ Your father tried to reach for you through the bars, you looked at him with cold dead eyes. With one swift turn, you avoided his claws and grabbed him by the throat, smashing him against the prison bars. He coughed up whatever bit of congealed blood was left in his lungs. ‘’Ugh-’’

‘’Can you imagine? This pitiful man.’’ You sighed as you released him, he dropped to the floor. You turned to Astarion again, eyes softening.

‘’For as long as I can remember, this man abused me and my mother. He would leave her with very little, refusing to let her even get a job to provide for me.. Because all he did was drink, and drink, go out and sleep with strangers.’’ You sighed, looking back to the pathetic thing in the cage.

‘’I suppose he was handsome enough for your master to drink dry, maybe he just wanted to get drunk on his intoxicated blood.’’ You went quiet for a moment.

‘’One day, when he didn’t come back- My mother decided it was the perfect time to abandon me.’’ The spite and hatred in your eyes came flowing back. ‘’I had nothing but anger to survive on.’’

‘’You whoreson-’’ Your father once more spoke up, but you spit at him. ‘’SHUT UP!’’

‘’I should’ve beaten you more.’’

You decided to let him have his say, and thus the insults of decades came back around. You remembered them all, each little thing he knew would rile you up and cause you to run and hide. You wanted to slap the teeth out of his mouth, but patiently waited until he was finished.

‘’Have you nothing to say for yourself boy?’’ Your father held onto the prison bars again. ‘’Be a good little shit and do something right in your life for once. Let me out.’’

You stared at him, expression unreadable. Astarion grabbed your hand, he now too shared your rage. ‘’I don’t remember him, actually.. Pity.’’ He said, clicking his teeth.

‘’What? You don’t remember how you led me into this hell? You little-’’ He tried to lunge forward again, making pathetic attempts to claw his way out. ‘’You said all these little- recited lines! Sounded so dreamy. Corny. I was very into it. The sex wasn’t that great though.’’

He turned back to you, noticing you interlocking your fingers with Astarion. Your lover’s face contorted with disgust at your father. ‘’Don’t tell me- you’re into this man? Are you sleeping with him?’’ the deadbeat stopped and laughed at you. ‘’Oh.. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, boy. You’re just like me. Admit it.’’

For a moment, the childlike doubt overtook you again. Everything he said was designed to hurt you, to treat you like a punching bag. He would sometimes feign care for you, only to earn your trust and use it against you like a weapon. You were just a little kid.. This man, this man was a real monster.

‘’I don’t think so, Tav is nothing like you.’’ Astarion thought about it. ‘’If anything, it makes no sense for him to be related to you. Are you sure your wife didn’t sleep around? Hmm?’’ Astarion’s words clearly hit a nerve, because your father once more tried to claw his way out, screaming obscenities.

You didn’t care for either your parents, the idea of your mother sleeping with another man to conceive you wasn’t that far fetched. After all, as far as you were concerned.. You had no parents. You had to raise yourself.

‘’Don’t talk to me like that, you… You.. Manwhore!’’ Your father remarked, he started to look defeated, falling to the ground.

Both you and Astarion shared the same expression at the sight. Amusement. A little piece of justice had come from all this misery.

‘’There’s one little thing.. Just the thing. How do I put this?’’ Astarion thought for a moment. ‘’I think you slept with Petras, not me.’’ He then looked back at you, worried. ‘’I may have been horrible enough to seduce people for… Cazador. But I never went for the already drunk ones.’’ That confession seemed to hit both Gale and Shadowheart as well. It was genuine.

From all the different kinds of people held captive in this place.. The stories of drunk people falling victim to some of the worst crimes imaginable was one all too familiar.

When he mentioned Petras, you recalled running into him at the flophouse. He recited some of Astarion’s lines in the corniest way possible in an attempt to seduce you. ‘’My dad slept with that guy?’’ You nearly choked. Then your laughter became a storm.

‘’I can’t-’’ You wheezed. ‘’THAT’S-’’ You coughed. ‘’I can’t breathe!’’ You nearly fell to the floor. Then it turned from joyful, into sadistic laughter.

You could see your father peer his reddened eyes at Astarion, narrowing them, making sure he was right.. Then he slowly realised. ‘’You’re.. An elf.’’

You laughed again sadistically, and Astarion joined you.

Gale and Shadowheart awkwardly shifted around. ‘’It’s always like this with those two, huh?’’ Shadowheart mumbled. ‘’You know, I would laugh too if that was my father.’’ Gale shrugged. ‘’Let them, if anything.. The reprieve from the misery in this place is a good thing.’’ Neither the Wizard or the Cleric were as eager to run into a battle with a vampire lord. They were doing this for the sake of their friends. ‘’Well, my mother figure was terrible.’’ Shadowheart eventually added, accepting that this might as well be a good thing. ‘’I should’ve laughed at her downfall, perhaps it would have made things better..’’

You took one more look at your father in the cage as you came down from your high. Taking a deep breath, you examined his face clearly.

‘’Yes, gloat some more. Or are you actually pitying me now?’’ Your father remarked, his eyes begged for freedom. Surely you wouldn’t damn 7000 souls just because of him now, would you?

‘’No, I am simply burning this perfect picture of you into my mind.’’ You replied, causing the dread to sink into his form. ‘’No- No! Don’t let him do this! Please!’’ He turned to your allies, then to Astarion, putting on a different persona in an attempt to persuade him. ‘’I tried okay? He’s lying! I was drunk yes- But I’m not-’’

‘’Shhhh. Hush now, I think he likes it when you look so pathetic.’’ Astarion stared at him with a faked expression of empathy. ‘’Are you ready, my dear?’’ He turned back to you, seeing your smirk slowly fade. ‘’Oh, I’ve had my revenge. Are you ready to get yours?’’ You asked him back, he simply nodded.

Today was only just going to get better.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #ascended astarion x reader #ascended astarion x male reader #ascended astarion x m! reader #astarion #astarion x tav #ascended astarion x tav #ascended astarion x male tav #ascended astarion x m! tav #male tav #baldurs gate 3

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babygirl-diaz · 3 months ago

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Something Blue (BuckTommy Future Fic)

“Hold still!” Buck scolded his best friend as he climbed on his back and tried to get to the second-floor window.

“I didn’t sign up for this!” Eddie groaned and wobbled, making Buck kick him. “I will fucking drop you, dude!” Eddie yelled.

“What the hell is going on?” The window opened and Tommy peeked out. Buck felt his heart melt into a puddle of goo as he watched the love of his life dressed in a baby blue tuxedo.

“Hi,” Buck awkwardly waved at Tommy and jumped up, hanging onto the windowsill.

Tommy moved back and glared at him. “What are you doing here?”

Buck climbed through the window and sheepishly looked at him. “Uh…. I came to tell you something,” he said as he approached his ex-boyfriend.

“Tell me what?” Tommy asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

Before Buck could reply, something crashed in the room and he turned around to see Eddie lying face flat on the hardwood floor. “Hey, Tommy,” Eddie awkwardly waved at Tommy. “I’m fine. You two continue.”

Eddie groaned in pain and both Tommy and Buck ran to his side to help him up.

“What is wrong with you two? You could have gotten hurt,” Tommy chastised them, but an amused look crossed his face.

“We do this every day, Tommy, or did you forget? We spider-man our way into any situation,” Buck reminded him.

Tommy let go of Eddie once he was steady and Buck did the same. “Evan, what are you doing here? I am getting married in 30 minutes.”

“That’s why we’re here,” Eddie chimed in.

“To what? Walk me down the aisle?” Tommy asked crossing his arms across his chest.

“That should be done by the guy you’re marrying,” Buck scoffed. “He’s old enough to be your dad.”

Tommy glared at him in return. “How dare you?”

“You said you didn’t have daddy issues, but not from where I stand,” Buck continued to rile him up.

“I don’t have daddy issues. I genuinely love Hamish,” Tommy replied.

As Buck was about to reply he heard a loud crunch from behind them and turned around to see Eddie munching on caramel popcorn from a gift basket. Buck and Tommy glared at Eddie who just shrugged in return. “What? Don’t glare at me. I told you I was just here for the food,” he told Buck.

Buck sighed exasperatedly and shook his head. “If you genuinely love Hamish, why haven’t you called the security yet? I saw them outside. Hamish is some fancy aristocrat, isn’t he?”

“He’s a Lord,” Tommy replied and Buck could see him visibly cringe as the words were out of his mouth.

“A lord? Are you even listening to yourself? Since when do you wanna marry that?” Buck asked. “Since you broke my heart and left me,” Tommy snapped. “Hamish picked up the pieces and put me back together.”

“Tommy…”

“No! Just- just go, Evan. I don’t want to talk to you right now,” Tommy told him. He looked like he was on the verge of tears and Buck immediately felt bad, but he knew this was his last chance.

“Tommy…” Buck tried again and backed Tommy against the wall. He looked into his eyes and noted the deer caught in headlights look on Tommy’s face and reached out to touch him.

Tommy leaned into his touch and nuzzled Buck’s hand immediately.

Buck smiled in triumph and trailed his hand down to Tommy’s neck. He stopped and asked, “Where’s the locket I gave you?”

“I gave it to Eddie after we broke up,” Tommy replied.

Both Buck and Tommy looked at Eddie again, who was still practically inhaling the pack of popcorn. “Ohhh…. That locket…. Look I knew if I gave it to Buck, it would break his heart so I didn’t,” he admitted. “Besides, I always thought you two would get back together.”

“I thought you kept it- that- that’s why-”

“That’s why you were here today?” Tommy asked Buck. “Thinking we still had a chance?”

Buck took a tentative step back. “That locket was the sign of our love…”

“No, the sign of our love was us. We made and broke the relationship, not the locket,” Tommy replied.

Buck shook his head after a while and took another step towards Tommy, pressing him into the wall again, caging him there. “Doesn’t matter. I love you and I know you love me too.”

“You’re full of yourself,” Tommy huffed.

“And you didn’t deny it,” Buck smirked.

There was a knock on the door and a voice came from the other side, “Tommy? Are you ready? Hamish is getting impatient out here.”

“I’ll be right out, Ma!” Tommy called out and then glared at Buck, “Lemme go!”

“You never met Buck 1.0, did you?” Buck asked.

“What?” Tommy frowned at him.

“I once stole the fire engine to fuck someone,” Buck replied and leaned in close to Tommy’s ear. “If I bring out Buck 1.0, then you and Hamish better watch out.” He winked at Tommy and stepped back.

“Your threats don’t scare me, Evan,” Tommy pushed past him and went to the door.

“It should,” Buck replied.

“What now?” Eddie asked once Tommy left.

“Now we steal a fire engine,” Buck replied.

“Huh?”

***

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #eddie diaz #original male character #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #firepilot #bucktommy fic #bucktommy fanfic #911 abc #911 fanfic

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whumble-beeee · 2 months ago

Text

Whumptober 2024 | Day 10 | The Bee's Whumptober Masterlist

What Happens When You Give a Tween The Power to Wreck Some Shit

AI-less Whumptober: Self worth issues, pushing away a loved one, “You don't need to earn this.”

Whumptober: BLOW TO THE HEAD | Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight."

CW: minor whumpee (13yo, dw things work out tho), female whumpee, male whumper, knives

* * * * * * * *

“Hey there, little lady.”

Chloe flinched violently and spun around to face the voice, chin held high, eyes blazing. Anyone who dared approach a girl– WOMAN, she reminded herself– as young as her and talk to them like this late at night in a place like… well, here, a half-abandoned side street– couldn’t be up to any good.

Unfortunately, her fears turned out to be founded as soon as she took in the profile of the voice. An adult man. Quite a bit taller than her, not exactly stacked but not a lanky little man either, with the sharp of a nasty looking knife pointed directly at her face.

His eyes glinted as she clenched her fists at him and tried to calm the stuttering in her chest, tried to come out of the shaking spiral and the tunnel vision and deep breathing she'd been doing right before he announced himself.

…Okay, so she may not have been paying attention to her surroundings. At all. In a bad part of town. At night. But Marcus was pissing her off saying it wasn't her fault that she couldn't have saved Stan earlier, so… she ran. And he called after her, but she slammed him back with her power, and she kept running.

And he didn't catch her.

So this was all his fault, really…

Nevertheless, she glared at her assailant. And his knife. “I wouldn't, if I were you,” she hissed, lowering her voice as intimidating as she possibly could, ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat and the pang of fear weaving it's way through her stomach. She tried to discreetly wipe away the wetness running down her cheeks.

The man just laughed.

“Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about it, I don't want to do any of uh…” he glanced up and down the entirety of Chloe's body. “That. Lucky you. Just hand over your wallet. Or any other valuables, really, pretty girl like you looks like she’s got loads of daddy’s money. Sure you could spare a couple hundred.”

She could lay this clown out on the pavement right here and now, if she wanted to. But never ever use your powers on someone unless it is life or death. Never let anyone know you have a power, never put yourself in a situation where you'd need to even use your powers, unless you want to end up like Mom and Dad. And me.

Yeah, Stan. She knew. And he didn't listen to his own advice, and now he was captured again too…

Chloe pursed her lips with a huff at the thought, and tried to shove past the robber, but he moved in front of her, blocking her way. She tried again, blocked again, pushed back, attempted sidestep turned stumble back as she tried to keep away from the man and the glinting knife in a horrid dance of rising adrenaline and growing nerves. Before she knew it, he had flanked her, cornering her with her back to a dark alley.

She bared her teeth at him. “Fuck you! Get out of my way!”

“Woah, now,” his easy smile disappeared, head tilting at her with narrowed eyes. “Didn’t they teach you that sharing is caring when you were at kindergarten today?”

“I'm not– Get away from me or you’ll regret it,” Chloe spat back. Her muscles shook with the tension, and for a moment she could swear she saw red. You could crush this idiot without thought.

But don't.

“Just give me the money and I will. I know your brain’s not fully developed, but it really is that simple. Plus I really don’t want to hurt a preschooler if I don’t have to.”

“I’M NOT A PRESCHOOLER!” she shouted, throwing clenched fists out behind her, throwing her full body into yelling at the man, making herself look bigger, trying to make him leave her alone.

The man clenched his jaw at the ferocity of her words, amusement giving way to slight anger before his gaze settled on her angry fists and transformed his demeanor entirely into one of shock and disbelief.

“You–...” he panted, eyes flicking up and down her form again. “You're glowing.”

NO.

Chloe's face went white as she tore her gaze downward and only now noticed the powerful blue glow. It extinguished immediately and she stumbled backward, back hitting the wall of the alleyway with a slight oomph and nearly making her scream.

“No, I’m not!”

But it was too late.

You need to learn to control your powers. Yes, Stan, she knew! So why did he get captured before he could teach her everything?!

Tears pricked at her eyes.

Why did he have to get captured? She wouldn't be here if he weren't captured, she just wanted her big brother–

“You have powers." The man's extraordinary observation skills ripped her back to the present. "Holy shit, man, that’s…”

Then his gaze settled to her elbow. Where a hero brand would be, if she had one. Oh no. She grabbed at clutched at the exposed skin of her elbow and held it behind her, taking a defensive position, teeth bared. “Yeah, I have powers. Now let me go before I decide to use them on you.”

“Use them on me?” He scoffed. “How old are you again?”

“None of your beeswax!”

“Because if you're too young to have the brand…” a hunger glinted in his eyes. “Oh, this changes things.”

“What–?”

“Do you know how much money a little super without a marking could be worth?! We could wait a bit, turn you in for evading, or– God, I know some people who would go crazy–”

Life or death.

Run.

She sprinted, screaming as loud as she could, straight past him, ran, she needed help, she needed Marcus, she needed Stan she needed help someone to help her anyone she didn't want to be kidnapped–

The back of her shirt caught and yanked her fully back–

“NO STAN HELP–!”

– choking her briefly before slamming her right back into the alleyway wall. The air knocked out of her lungs, and yet she still struggled against the fist curled and pinning the fabric of her shirt against the wall. That is, until she felt the sharp tip of the knife pressing into her stomach. And she froze, staring up into her assailant's eyes.

Life or death.

Life or death??

“LET ME GO!!” she screeched in a blind panic, squirming and kicking and screaming until the man let go of her shirt to slap his hand over her mouth instead, and even then she didn't stop.

“Quiet down, now, unless you want a new hole in your goddamn stomach,” he hissed, pressing the knife even harder against her, the deadly edge painfully close to breaking fabric and flesh. The world around her blurred, a sort of blue lightning crackling up inside of her, overtaking her entire body. “I’m not gonna be outsmarted by some kid. I know if your power were actually useful, you’d’ve used it by now. Which means It’s all the better for a show. So you’re not getting away because you're a tiny as shit preteen who will do whatever I say because I can and will do whatever the fuck I want to you–”

LIFE OR DEATH!!

A flash of bright blue light filled the dingy alley. As Chloe's powers concentrated in her hands, then threw out and created a force strong enough to slam the head of the man attacking her to the side.

THUNK!!

The man shuddered and lurched backward. The knife dropped away from her stomach, leaving a small hole in the shirt where it had almost bore into her. And the hand finally fell away, but suddenly she didn't feel the need to scream.

On the contrary. She stared frozen at his zombie-esque form as he staggered and fell to his knees, muttering incoherently, looking at her with angry, unseeing eyes and shaking body.

Then pause.

Then he collapsed the the ground in a shuddering heap, muttering nonsense.

She stared.

She did that.

Her power did that.

She did that.

Oh crap, she did that…

Adrenaline dumped into her system, and she sprinted off into the night.

* * * * * * * *

This drabble is apart of the (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping universe!

Whumptober Taglist: @whumperofworlds | @whumptober-archive | @regular-whump-sfx

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melswifeasf · 2 years ago

Text

Find my way back to you pt 5

previous chapter || next chapter || series page

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x Fem!OC

Summary: Estelles past is darker than anyone truly knew. except for one person; Sam Carpenter.

Warnings: angst, description of physical and emotional abuse.

notes: do you guys have anything you’d like to see in this series?

(word count: 6829)

eight years ago

football friday’s were always the best of the fall. everyone including Elias went to watch it. although Elias only went because his sister did and it would be the time in which he sold the most. the first friday into November was no different, Estelle was in a tight black shirt and blue jeans with her hair down as she stood in the parking lot with her girlfriend.

they were arguing. again. it was stupid really, Estelle had been talking with one of Elias clients, the guy had asked for her number but she kindly rejected him. he took it well, smiled and apologized before he walked away. no harm done.

and yet Valerie wasn’t having it and she wasn’t listening to reason. after the whole thing at the party, Valerie had been up her ass about everyone she even looked in the direction of.

“he just asked for my number and i said no!” Estelle repeated for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour.

Valerie scoffed, “i don’t give a fuck!” she yelled, “you’re always slutting yourself out to the first person you see!”

Estelle felt a twinge of pain in her chest at her words but she covered any trace of that as she tightened her jaw, “fuck you. i’ve been nothing but loyal to you! i told Sam to fuck off after that night and she has! what more do you want?!” the girl said desperately as she threw her hands up.

Valerie took a step closer until she was up in her face, “i want you to close your legs for one god damn minute and treat me like i deserve! you’re fucking pathetic” she said lowly, emphasizing each word with a slight pause.

Estelle’s eyes began to water, no longer able to hold back her pain, “i’ve been nothing but good to you, every time you call i’m there, when you need someone to vent to, i’m there. when you’re horny in the middle of the night and want me to warm your bed, im there so don’t you dare say that i’m not because you know that i am!” Estelle responded her voice growing in volume the more she spoke.

the taller girl shook her head, “the only thing you’re worth is a good fuck. if it weren’t for that i would’ve left your sorry ass a long time ago. don’t you think i get tired of having to be around someone as damaged as you? always crying about how your daddy left? it’s fucking exhausting being around you!” Valerie yelled, the veins on her neck popping out as she threw her hands up angrily.

Estelle chocked back a sob. “fuck you. i’m tired of you too, tired of your constant jealousy, of your shitty self esteem issues and how everything is always about you! i’m tired of you too!” a loud slap echoed throughout the parking lot as Estelle’s hand immediately cupped her face.

she was shocked, her eyes wide as the warm burning sensation was starting to build, both of her hands were shaky and she knew there would be a bruise left by how hard it hit and the ring Estelle knee Valerie always wore on her middle finger.

she didn’t get a chance to say or do anything as her wrists were being gripped tightly in a pair of strong hands, the marks that had already been left behind making it more painful.

Valerie had never been one to refrain herself from yelling, screaming, punching anything near her or simply gripping Estelle’s body tightly in order to show who’s in charge but she had never smacked her. ever.

this was the last straw and Estelle wouldn’t be forgiving her for this one.

“don’t you ever talk to me like that!” Valerie yelled an angry color overtaking her face.

Estelle couldn’t hold back her cries as she winced in pain. before either of them could say anything else a loud voice got both of their attention making them both turn toward it.

“hey! hey!” they heard a familiar voice approach them, “get your fucking hands off of her!” Sam said as she shoved Valerie off of the shorter girl.

Estelle wiped away her tears quickly and began to fix her hair so it was covering the mark that had surely already began to form.

Valerie scoffed, “of course you’re here”

Sam stood extremely close to her, one hand reaching behind her to hold Estelle back. she was standing straight, her lip twitching in anger as she starred the girl down. the two girls were practically the same height but Sam was making it so she looked taller and more intimidating.

“you better walk away before i call the cops” Sam threatened.

Valerie chuckled, “and say what? that you saw me and my girlfriend arguing? seriously, Sam. no one would give a fuck” she said amused.

“i think they’ll be interested in the bruise you gave her? or maybe i should get Elias instead?”

the smirk that was once on Valerie’s lips quickly faded at her words. the color on her face draining in an instant, her posture softening with it. she glanced back at Estelle seeing her desperately wiping away her tears as her body shook.

“whatever” she rolled her eyes and walked up to her car. she opened the door, got inside and slammed it behind her. the engine roared to life and the car screeched against the road as it drove away.

a sigh of relief escaped Sams lips once they were alone. she turned toward Estelle immediately, her hand gently touching Estelle’s arm as she held her hand against her cheek.

“are you okay?” Sam asked softly as she took a step closer.

Estelle shook her head, “i’m fine” she answered curtly. “i need to go” she said and moved her hand away from Sam’s touch.

the Carpenter girl frowned at that, “Estelle..”

“no” Estelle shook her head, “please just leave me alone, Sam.” she said and quickly walked away.

“fuck” Sam muttered as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration

Estelle had tears in her eyes as she walked to her car. she didn’t mean to be such a bitch to Sam but she couldn’t deal with it all. she had enough with her now ex girlfriend and had to find a way to hide the mark she had left from Elias otherwise he’d kill her. literally.

present

the young cop approached her ex and her new boyfriend, she had on her bomber jacket with the word ‘deputy’ on the back. she had recently talked to the cop on duty to watch Tara’s room, by now the girl was on an empty floor so they could keep better track of her. initially she wanted to be the one in charge of the room or to at least help but she had another plan.

she had seen enough stab movies to know exactly what they needed to survive this. reinforcements. Gale Weathers was out of the picture just like Sidney Prescott so she only had one person left.

as soon as her steps could be heard Sam looked away from her boyfriend and at her ex girlfriend, slightly confused. she quickly wiped at her tears. “Estelle? what’s going on? is Tara okay?” she quickly asked glancing behind Estelle to see if she had brought anyone else with her to clue her in on why she was there.

she knew Estelle like the back of her hand, even if the Estelle in front of her now was slightly different then the back talking, law breaker she had met eight years ago, she could still see the old her in a sense. her eyebrow still twitched in anger, she was still fidgety as ever, she still walked as if she owned the place and she was still as beautiful as ever.

Estelle shook her head, “everything’s fine. i was thinking and i have a plan” she said, immediately getting both of their attention.

“what is it?” Sam asked quickly.

the short girl glanced at the boyfriend, she really wanted to tell him he wasn’t a part of this but Sam could say the same about her.

“do you know Dewey?” she asked not sparing the boy another glance to make it clear her words were only directed at Sam.

“the cop from the stab movies?” Richie asked. Estelle still didn’t look at him, ignoring his idiotic question. why was he even here? it’s not like he knew Tara and she knew Sam and him had only been dating for a couple of months so it didn’t click on why he would be willing to stay in danger just to keep Sam company. he had no part in this.

“yeah” Sam nodded, “do you think he’d help?”

Estelle sighed as she shrugged softly, “i used to work with him but he got laid off a couple of months ago. he was a nice guy but i’m not sure how willing he’ll be to be a part of this all over again. but there’s only one way to find out” she said slightly hopeful.

Sam nodded in understanding, “we’ll take my car” she said holding up her keys earning an amused chuckle from Estelle.

“absolutely not. i’m the law here, we’re taking the patrol car. let’s go” she said leaving no room for argument as she began walking toward the elevator.

Richie glanced at his girlfriend with a look of dread, he did not want Estelle to be a part of it but Sam ignored him as she began to follow her ex.

the ride down the elevator was awkward. Richie had his arm wrapped around Sam as he stared at Estelle who was too busy looking at the elevator doors, waiting for them to open. she had a faint smirk on her lips, she knew what he was trying to do but it wasn’t working. in all the time she’s seen the couple Sam hadn’t touched him once, not even to hold his hand or at least she tried to not do it in front of her. when they were together Sam couldn’t keep her hands to herself for even a second. maybe things were different, they were older and the situation they were in isn’t exactly easy but Estelle knew Sam and she was the most possessive person she’d ever known. she always liked that about her.

the elevator doors dinged open revealing a slightly crowded waiting room, she didn’t talk as she reached for her glasses and put them on. it was sunny and warm out, the complete opposite of what it felt like inside the hospital. she hadn’t seen the sun since the day before, the only time she went home was to take a quick shower and that was in the middle of the night where the hospital was less busy so the guard protecting Tara could keep a closer eye on her.

once they walked outside she led them to the patrol car and got inside. Sam followed into the passenger seat whilst Richie got in the back.

“wow. i’m in the back of a cop car” Richie said with a slight chuckle earning an eye roll from Estelle as she chewed her gum louder.

“seatbelts” she said simply as she put her own belt on and put the car in drive.

Estelle didn’t have the radio playing, she was listening to the dispatch to make sure there weren’t any other attacks. the air was uncomfortable and all of them could feel it. even Richie who tried to make conversation but Estelle completely ignored him.

it was Sam who got a word out of Estelle. like always.

“Tara said you were the first one at the house when she was attacked” Sam said glancing at the young girl. “you had a security system in place? i didn’t know you guys were close”

Estelle chuckled, she wasn’t accusing her but it almost felt like she was.

“yeah well, when Elias died she was the only one there for me” she shrugged. that wasn’t completely true, Alex and Xavier had been present for the funeral and even helped her financially for a couple of months but it was different. they were Elias friends, not hers and even though they always took on the older protective brother role just like Elias, they held that sentiment for her because of him. things just weren’t the same when he died and they all slowly lost contact once she decided to be part of the police force.

Sam cleared her throat timidly, “i’m sorry Estelle. i meant to call but-”

the girl held her hand up, “don’t. it’s fine. i get it” i wasn’t important enough, that’s what she wanted to say but she refrained herself from doing so. getting mad at Sam now was useless, she can’t get mad at someone for not loving her as much as she did, for not caring enough. how could she?

Sam didn’t have anything to say either, nothing that could make up for the pain she caused and nothing that could bring him back so she didn’t. it would be useless to do so.

“there was an incident a year ago, someone tried breaking in so i was the one who had the security system in place. i’m the emergency contact” she continued still trying to explain why she was the first person Tara contacted. Sam deserved some kind of explanation, Tara was her sister after all.

“oh” Sam said softly as she glanced at Estelle. “thanks for.. taking care of her” she continued with a slight nod.

Estelle shrugged, “she’s my family, it’s what i do”

if only Estelle knew the weight those words carried in Sams heart.

eight years ago

quiet. complete and utter silence. for two weeks it had been radio silent in the Garcias home. the young girl was wrapped in a blanket in her room, the curtains in her room shut with only a peak of sunlight shining inside.

she hadn’t been two school in that amount of time, barely had a proper meal. she’d already eaten all the fast microwavable meals so she stuck with snacks like granola bars or cereal. it’s not like she had much of an appetite anyway.

she felt empty, nothing but the complete and utter darkness consuming her whole. she was alone. Elias had been arrested two weeks ago which like the domino affect, caused more things to follow. she could feel the pain of that affect still linger on her face and body. she still had a black eye, her lip was cut and there was a huge bruise on her cheek. she hadn’t been able to look at herself in the mirror in a week, every time she did she’d end up crying for hours on end. but she didn’t have to look in the mirror to know she still had a huge bruise on her ribs, it was a dark purple the last time she saw it and it hurt as much as the first day.

Sam hadn’t talked to Estelle since the day she stopped the fight between her and Valerie. she expected that much but what did surprise her was the fact that she had disappeared a week later. no one had heard from her. she knew Elias went to jail after being caught with drugs but she knew he’d never let Estelle go down for it. she had no idea where Estelle was and it was nerve wracking.

so she did the only thing she could think of. she went to school like usual to see if she’d show up Monday but she didn’t so Sam got into her car and drove to her home. she’d been there multiple times whether it was for one of Elias parties or to buy drugs.

Sam had knocked on the door but there was no answer. even rang the doorbell a couple times but there was still no answer. both Estelle and Elias car were parked in the driveway so she knew Estelle had to be home. the tall girl sighed impatiently as she stepped away from the front door and walked to the huge window. it was covered so there was no way for her to see inside and she’s sure one of the neighbors are gonna call the cops considering she looked like she was about to break into the home.

so she went around the back expecting to maybe find the back door open but it was locked. fuck.

Sam defeatedly began to walk back to her car, there was no way inside and Estelle wasn’t answering the door. it’s not like she had her number to text or call her. as she was walking she realized that Estelle’s room was on that side of the house, she had seen her curtains open and her inside the room the last time she went to pick up her usual stuff from Elias. she stopped where she was and glanced up at the window, it was closed and the curtains were closed. there was a tree right beside it, she could possibly climb it but there was no guarantee Estelle would let her in.

the girl wiped her hands off on her pants and began to climb. it was hard to get a grip at first, it’s not like she had any experience climbing trees and her foot kept slipping. eventually she was on the closest branch, she held onto it with one hand and reached for the window with the other. her hand closed into a fist and she knocked. no response. she knocked one, twice and finally at the third knock the curtains were pulled apart roughly to reveal an irritated Estelle.

Sams lips let out a small gasp at the sight of her beaten down state. Estelle’s eye was swollen to the point in which it was slightly closed, it was purple and bruised as well as her cheek. she could see Estelle holding her stomach with one hand making her question if she was injured there too. what the hell happened?

the window abruptly opened and Estelle spoke with an annoyed voice, “what do you want?”

Sams mouth opened and closed for a second, she was speechless. what could she say? she knew if she asked what happened Estelle wouldn’t tell her. she’d learned her lesson the time they talked in the bathroom. but she needed to know, god, she had to. what if she needed help? what if Estelle was in danger? had Valerie done it?

“i-i.. you haven’t been at school. i came to check in on you” Sam finally said. she couldn’t bring up the bruises. not yet.

Estelle rolled her eyes. “im fine. you can go now” she said and stepped away from the window. the young girl expected Sam to take the hint and leave but instead the older girl climbed through it and stepped into the bedroom.

“im serious, Estelle. i’m worried about you.. i mean- look at you” Sam finally said not able to bite her tongue about this. maybe the decision to not ask about the bruises lasted two seconds but she couldn’t stop herself.

Estelle scoffed, “it’s none of your business. please get the fuck out of my house” she continued and pointed at the window. Sam didn’t take her eyes off of her though and Estelle was beginning to grow self conscious. no one had ever seen her like this, it’s why she didn’t go to school and she didn’t want Sam to be the first person to ever witness the fucked up life she had. she wasn’t quite sure why even cared, Sam and her had only kissed once drunkenly and her opinion shouldn’t mean anything to her but it did. she wished it didn’t, wished she could not care that the girl in front of her was seeing her in her most vulnerable state.

the older Carpenter girl finally moved from her spot and walked toward the window. Estelle expected her to leave and to finally be alone again but instead Sam closed it and the curtains in the process.

Estelle sighed heavily, “what are you doing?” she sounded as exhausted as she felt and Sam just wanted to pull her into a tight hug and not let go. Estelle would never let that happen though.

“im staying” Sam shrugged as if it were the most simple answer ever. “you can kick me out if you want but i’m staying” she said firmly and Estelle knew that there was truly no room for discussion.

“whatever” she shook her head and climbed back into bed.

Tuesday

Estelle had slept through most of the day. it was dark out now and when she reached for her phone she saw it was seven. the girl slowly threw the covers off of her and got out of bed. she needed to take some pain killers, the bruise on her stomach was only growing in pain and she couldn’t deal anymore. she had been taking Tylenol and ibuprofen but neither worked, she’d still feel the pulsing in her face and stomach region. she was so tired of the pain. so instead of reaching for the pill bottles beside her bed she went into her brothers room. she knew where he stored his drugs, in the safe stuffed inside closet. the combination was her birthday. she always thought that was sweet.

the girl grabbed the weed stored in a ziplock bag as well as the rolling paper. she didn’t have much of any experience with it but she wasn’t going to take hard drugs which was the only thing Elias had so weed would have to do.

she didn’t bother walking out of the room to smoke it, she didn’t need the smell lingering anywhere else in the house and Elias room always reeked of weed anyway. she opened the window like she’d seen her brother do countless times before and lit up the small joint. ten minutes later (which she mostly spent coughing) the small bud was too small so she put it out on the ashtray sitting on the outside part of the window.

her throat felt as dry as her eyes, this was why she never smoked. her hands were tingling and the pain was long forgotten, it was instead replaced by dizziness. she wasn’t super high but enough to feel her heart racing in her chest faster than usual. she’d regret this later - possibly but at least she wasn’t in pain anymore.

the girl held onto her stomach with her left hand and held onto the railing with the other as she walked down the steps.

she’d spent all day sleeping she had almost forgotten Sam had told her she’d be staying the day before. truthfully she fully expected Sam to be gone by now but instead of being met with an empty house she saw Sam in the kitchen making what looked to be spaghetti.

had she gone shopping? there was nothing in the fridge or cabinets to make food, especially not considering Elias was the one who did the grocery shopping and he was arrested before he could go on his weekly errand. all of the frozen food that was there was stored just in case they were low on money, Elias hated when his sister ate it. he always said she needed real food.

“what are you still doing here?” Estelle asked with a slight rasp to her voice. she ignored Sam as she prepared a plate near the stove and went to the fridge for a bottle of water.

“i told you i was staying,” Sam shrugged as if it were the most obvious this - which it was but Estelle never thought she’d be serious about it. “and you haven’t eaten all day so sit” she said and pointed at the dining room table.

Estelle glanced at it for a split second and then at the plate that was already resting on the kitchen island. without a second thought she grabbed the plate and began walking to her room.

she wouldn’t be keeping someone company when she didn’t even want them in her house.

Wednesday

much like Tuesday Estelle spent most of the day sleeping. she had gone back to her brothers to smoke another joint. this wasn’t like her, she’d never dug into his stash before, it didn’t matter how bad her beatings were but this was the worst it’d ever been. she’d usually be healed in a week tops two but she knew this wouldn’t be going away for another two weeks meaning she wouldn’t be attending school for almost a month. the only way she’d show her face would be if the bruises on her face faded to the point in which she could cover them with makeup. it didn’t really matter if the bruise on her stomach went away by then, she’d endure that pain like she always would.

it was just too painful this time around. tylenol wouldn’t cure the pain and she needed something stronger. even if she hated weed, even if she hated what it had to done to her brother and the people around her. she was a hypocrite but she couldn’t find a single part of her that cared. she deserved this, after everything she’d been through she deserved this.

once she felt high enough she locked the drugs away - except for a small bag that was still in her hand and went downstairs where she was sure Sam still was. she hadn’t heard the front door open all day and she had heard the television playing some comedy movie from her room. it was ridiculous that she was still there. seriously, Estelle couldn’t understand what she wanted.

like expected the girl was sitting on the couch intently watching the movie playing on the screen. there was just something different this time around, she wasn’t wearing the same clothes as before and there was a duffle bag sitting on the floor beside the fireplace.

“why are you here?” Estelle spoke abruptly causing Sam to flinch and whip her head around to face the smaller girl. she was slightly shocked at first but recovered almost instantly.

“i told you already, im not leaving you alone like this” she answered earning an eye roll from Estelle.

“seriously Sam. what the fuck do you want? drugs? fine. here” she said throwing a bag of weed to the girl along with oxy. Sam was obviously confused as she looked down at the bag that landed beside her. “you don’t even have to pay me. it’s all covered just please leave me the fuck alone” Estelle said pissed off by now. who did she think she was coming to her house and staying like they knew each other? like they were friends?

Sam didn’t move a muscle toward the bag as she looked back at the girl, “i don’t want drugs, Estelle. i just don’t think you should be alone right now” she said calmly.

Estelle scoffed, “what the fuck do you even know about it? you know nothing about me. you think we kiss once while i’m wasted and i’m in love with you? please, Sam. you’re just a fucking junkie and i’d never get with someone like you” she fired at the girl angrily.

Estelle knew she had hurt Sam by the look on her face, she regretted it as soon as she said it. the pained look in Sams eyes was enough for Estelle’s chest to tighten in pain. “maybe you’re right” Sam said. “maybe i’m a junkies who isn’t to your standards but i can’t just leave you like this Estelle. you are in obvious pain, you can’t stand without holding onto something and don’t even get me started on your eye!” she exclaimed and began to stand.

Estelle rolled her eyes again, “you don’t know shit about this Samantha. this isn’t any of your business so just leave me the fuck alone” she yelled at the taller girl. she didn’t bother listening to Sam stubbornly tell her she wasn’t going anywhere as she turned around and walked back up to her room, slamming the door behind her in the process.

Thursday

there’s a certain point in which a human can go without breaking down. that point for Estelle was ten days after the incident took place. she’d cried before, sure, but not like this. not with sobs racking her body like an avalanche, not with tears rushing down her face with no sign of ever stopping, not with her chest tightening and her lungs rapidly running out of oxygen. she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see and all she could feel was herself slowly drowning in her pain.

it wasn’t just the pain physically, it was emotional and she couldn’t deal with it anymore. she was so fucking damaged and she had no idea how she would ever feel like a normal person again. she had internal and external scars that she knew would never ever go away. it didn’t matter how much alcohol she took, how much weed she smoked, how many times she tried to disguise that pain with it of her girlfriends emotional abuse. she’d always just be this.

the other teen in the house could hear the loud crying from the living room. it was dark outside by now and she had been hearing her cries for the part hour. when the day started she thought it would progress like it had the last couple of days but Estelle never opened her door and went to her brothers room to get high, she didn’t go downstairs to grab a plate of food or lash out on her again.

she simply didn’t leave her room.

Sam had made dinner for them both and she wanted to apologize to Estelle and let her know that if she really wanted her to leave, she would. she understood it was weird to be in her house, they barely knew each other but she’d known all about Estelle’s father leaving and her mother dying. she knew Elias was the only person Estelle had and now he was in jail. she couldn’t leave her alone. not when she was in so much pain.

Estelle heard a soft knock on her door causing her to quickly pull the blanket up to her lips to try and cover up her crying.

Sams voice was gentle and it hurt Estelle even more how sensitive she was being toward her, “i made some soup” she said. “you don’t have to come out, i can bring it up for you. but..” Estelle heard the girl trail off and even though she couldn’t see her, she could almost see Sam biting her bottom lip with her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about what to say next. “if you want.. maybe we can watch a movie. i don’t know but whatever you need just let me know”

Estelle didn’t come down to grab food or watch the movie Sam offered that day.

Friday

hot water ran down Estelle’s nude body. at first it made her wince whenever it would hit her stomach region or when it landed anywhere on her face but it all slowly numbed.

she hadn’t showered since Monday, the pain was too much. it felt good, refreshing even, to finally wipe away the dried blood along with the dried tears from all the crying she had done the night before.

the girl soon turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. her mirror was slightly foggy but she could still make herself out. her eyes was only slightly better, it wasn’t that swollen but she still couldn’t open it all the way. the color hadn’t changed and the bruise on her cheek was only healing in pain. maybe that was because of the drugs though. she didn’t bother looking at her stomach, both the pain and the bruise hadn’t changed at all.

she threw on a pair of sweatpants and one of her brothers hoodies before stepping out of the bathroom. her hair was wet and water droplets were hitting the floor along with her hoodie.

she took a deep breath and then opened her bedroom door. it was time to stop being a bitch. time to grow up and realize she had someone in her house that was going through all this effort just to make sure she wasn’t alone.

as soon as she stepped down from the last step she saw Sam on the couch and scrolling through her phone. she didn’t seem to notice Estelle’s presence and the shorter girl wasn’t going to any efforts to alert her.

the younger girl walked to the kitchen and grabbed a clean plate, the noise finally grabbing Sams attention. she locked her phone and placed it on the table beside her as she turned her body to look at Estelle. none of them spoke.

Estelle quietly grabbed some food and put it in the microwave. two minutes later she was walking toward Sam with a bowl of food in one hand along with a bottle of water in the other. she was severely dehydrated at this point.

the girl silently sat down on the furthest end of the couch whilst Sam was still sat on the other. Estelle placed her bottle of water on the coffee table and got comfortable where she was. Sam tried not to look at her as she watched the television. the shorter girl took a bite out of the food and her eyes widened, it was amazing. she wasn’t sure if that was the hunger talking but either way was visibly pleased.

Estelle realized Sam wasn’t going to any efforts to talk which made her sigh. “im sorry” she finally said.

Sam glanced at her with a neutral expression. damn, Estelle couldn’t help but think she had been a bigger dick than she realized. that was a stupid thought considering she’d literally called her a junkie.

“i was really fucked up and i didn’t mean any of the stuff i said” she continued hoping Sam would say something - anything.

her hopes weren’t let down as Sam finally turned to look at her, “it’s fine. you were just saying shit. i know how it goes” she shrugged. Sam was playing it down and Estelle didn’t feel like she deserved that.

“it’s not okay, though. you’re not a junkie and frankly what you do isn’t any of my business. and if we’re being honest it’s me who doesn’t deserve you, not the other way around” Estelle admitted with a soft chuckle.

Sam didn’t say anything but Estelle could see a faint smile appear on her lips and that was enough for her to know she had accepted her apology. but Estelle knew that wasn’t enough, she needed to tell someone. even if it was someone she’d barely known, even if it was one of her brothers clients. she just couldn’t keep this to herself anymore and Sam had done nothing but tried to be there for her these last couple of days.

the young girl placed her bowl on the table in front of her before leaning back on the couch. what she would be saying wasn’t something that could be taken lightly, it was heavy shit and she just really hoped it wouldn’t scare Sam away. “i was ten years old when my mom died” Sam didn’t move a muscle or say anything but Estelle knew she was listening. “my dad had always been an abusive asshole but one day he was really drunk and his fists were hitting a lot harder until suddenly she just stopped breathing” tears were already forming in Estelle’s eyes and she felt pathetic for it. “but he’s a lawyer so he got his most important contacts to rule it an accident and he got left off the hook easily. no one really knew what happened, it was a closed casket funeral and everyone loved him so no one ever thought he’d be capable of such a thing” she chuckled dryly.

Sam felt tears forming in her own eyes at Estelle’s words. she knew what it was like losing a parent but she couldn’t begin to imagine what Estelle went through. sure, her father left but she knew he was still alive, somewhere out there but still alive. Estelle didn’t have that privilege.

“after she died i was his next punching bag. he wasn’t home much considering he couldn’t live with his own guilt but on the rare occasion he did come home, he’d be drunk and angry and he always said i looked like her so he’d come into my room at night and..” she trailed off as her voice broke and Sam didn’t need her to finish her sentence to know what she meant. the hand that was resting on Sams lap made its way toward Estelle. the girl was staring at her lap so she didn’t notice Sam was reaching for her hand until she was holding it.

the shorter girl looked up at Sam with teary eyes and Sam shot her a comforting smile. and it did just that.

“it didn’t last long, once Elias turned sixteen he started to realize what he was doing and one night while… it was happening he came into the room and fought back. my dad always was afraid of him so he when Elias threatened to tell everyone how my mom actually died, he left town and left us alone” Estelle said and wiped at her tears. “but he was angry he had to move away so he stopped giving us money which led to Elias selling drugs.”

Sam squeezed the girls hand to show she was still listening. “we knew if we called CPS he’d just win them over and move back in so we didn’t bother. things were fine up until the first time Elias got arrested. my dad knew he wasn’t home so he came back and..” she couldn’t finish her sentence again but Sam still understood what she meant. “i begged him to pay bail but he never did, he knew he had an advantage. once Elias was released he knew what he did to me and told all of my moms family. after that they started helping out and some even offered us a place to stay but Elias never wanted to” Estelle shrugged.

Sam frowned, “why not?” she wasn’t sure if asking was insensitive but that didn’t sound like Elias, considering he tried to protect Estelle as much as he did, why wouldn’t he want to give her a better life with a stable home and family.

“i guess he just didn’t trust anyone else after my dad” Estelle shrugged once more. “but he promised to be more careful so he wouldn’t get arrested again. up until almost two weeks ago” she continued with a sigh. “my dad came back to town the day after he was.”

Sams stomach dropped at her words. she hadn’t put two and two together but now she knew how Estelle got the bruises. how could a father do that to his own daughter?

“he didn’t.. yknow touch me like that but he was pissed off that he got a call saying his son is in jail and now that he’s in a committed relationship, he was mad that he had to stop his new life to come back here. he took it out on me and yeah” Estelle said as if it were no big deal.

Sam shifted closer to the girl hesitantly but once she was sure Estelle wasn’t going to move away she continued to move closer until she could wrap an arm around the girls petite body. “i know there’s nothing i could ever say to heal what happened to you and i’m so sorry that it did. that man is a shitty person and i promise i won’t let him get near you again” she said firmly making Estelle smile as she let her head fall on the girls chest.

“you gonna be my knight and shinning armor miss Carpenter?” Estelle joked.

Sam shrugged with a sheepish smile. “maybe. i might steal your heart after all” she joked back.

but Estelle knew she wasn’t joking. “maybe you already have” she said lowly as she moved impossibly closer to Sam. the taller girl held her even tighter in response.

she deserved someone like her, someone who cared enough to endure shitty words and the cold shoulder and even an uncomfortable couch simply just to show she wasn’t alone. Estelle deserved a love that wouldn’t leave her. one that would be unconditional and one that wouldn’t cause her harm whether that’s emotional or physical.

she deserved to be loved by someone that cared enough to stay.

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