#i really hate my body cause its in a lot of pain right now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoseoksluna · 6 months ago

Text

VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart.

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him.

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend.

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart.

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them.

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it.

However…

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up.

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.”

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue.

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right.

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.”

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation.

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen.

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks.

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you.

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call.

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention.

He starts speaking once he knows he has it.

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.”

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues.

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.”

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud.

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.”

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.”

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand.

A validation.

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are.

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you.

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?”

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had.

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you.

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all.

“Yes, she’s safe with me.”

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.”

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.”

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen.

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready.

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi.

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.”

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end.

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across.

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.”

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words.

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has.

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break?

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world.

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.”

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.”

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it.

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty.

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling.

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous.

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible.

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end.

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it.

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?”

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?”

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?”

There’s simply no way this is real.

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.”

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now?

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior.

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.”

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?”

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand.

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.”

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him.

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued.

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest.

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange.

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside.

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest.

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol.

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie.

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you?

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders.

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for.

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?”

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside?

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face.

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.”

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety.

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?”

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth.

And your words seep into his fist.

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.”

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?”

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can’t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.”

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.”

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality.

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost.

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin.

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek.

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment.

“You have a bathtub?”

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you.

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen.

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you.

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach.

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life.

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being.

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again.

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well.

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face.

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way.

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.”

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too.

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly.

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours.

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?”

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging.

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.”

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.”

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his.

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand.

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this.

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk.

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness.

He might have just found his ultimate weakness.

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him.

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily.

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.”

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city.

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time.

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe.

“Did I remind you of it again?”

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water.

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?”

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him.

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser.

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into.

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts.

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.”

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it.

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated.

For now.

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him.

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.”

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength.

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.”

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn’t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life.

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.”

You love him.

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place.

You love him. And it’s real.

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around.

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully.

“Put it in.”

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.”

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.”

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.”

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.”

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.

This is happiness.

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful.

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child.

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager.

“Please, Jungkook, take me.”

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath.

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.”

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you.

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite.

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.”

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger.

He’s starving. Terribly starving.

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you.

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight.

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.”

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there.

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.”

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty.

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.”

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously.

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.”

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation.

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you.

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you.

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?” he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?”

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound.

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.”

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him.

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you.

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this.

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.”

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him.

“I want you.”

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?”

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.”

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.”

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity.

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know.

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love.

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist.

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.”

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to.

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him.

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm.

“That’s enough.”

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all.

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists.

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.”

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over.

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased.

Looks like you need another form of punishment.

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will.

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for.

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes.

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?”

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.”

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you.

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?”

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all.

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger.

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level.

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him.

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?”

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him.

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm.

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?”

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down.

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there.

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?”

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.”

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.”

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart.

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.”

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair.

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?”

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night.

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you.

He overflows with a thrumming life.

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?”

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there.

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?”

You merely laugh through your nose.

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you.

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.”

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again.

“Good night,” you say.

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.”

BACK to masterlist

#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

247 notes · View notes

belovedmusings · 1 year ago

Text

“You have to trust me.”

18+ Explicit Smut 🚫Minors DNI🚫

You and Satoru get into an argument before he heads off to face Sukuna. You worry for his safety since the incident of his sealing is still fresh in your mind, begging him to let the others help, but he insists he has to do it alone. Hot, emotional sex follows.

Relevant tags: AFAB reader w/minimal gendered language, reader with no defined characteristics for inclusivity and realism, angst, hurt/no comfort, before Ch 236, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, missionary/mating press, intentional baby making

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Privilege (The Weeknd), lovely (Billie Eilish), Lo Vas Olvidar (Billie Eilish, ROSALIA)

A/N: I have a follow-up to this where he survives the fight so that you can have some comfort after this hurt. I’ll link it at the end :’) for now enjoy some angst.

Expand to read:

“Satoru, please,” your voice tapers off at the end, the ache in your heart stinging with its intensity. “Please, don’t do it alone. You can have help. Yuuta—”

“This isn’t his fight,” Satoru insists, “I don’t want to involve innocent kids in this if I can help it.”

“So you’re just gonna go off and get yourself killed instead?”

His brows furrow, eyes frozen on your face. His lips part in disbelief, and after a moment of being stunned, he laughs incredulously.

“Seriously?” He asks you, “Do you really think that lowly of me? You think I’m marching off to my death right now?! You think I’m some weak little twerp or something? That’s all I am to you?!”

As he raises his voice, you start to feel guilt rising up in your chest. You hadn’t meant to say it like that. Here he is, about to fight for the sake of the world and you’re belittling him and undermining his strength. You’re telling him you expect him to lose, even if that wasn’t your intention. You’re supposed to be his support pillar—he doesn’t just let anyone in.

The anger fizzles out of you like ice water on hot coals. Instantly, you feel cold.

“No, Satoru,” you shake your head, remorse bubbling up so violently tears spring to your eyes. This is the love of your life, the man who has been nothing but sweet, patient, and kind to you. Sure, back when things were normal, he used to tease and get on your nerves, he had to work a lot and his time was stretched thin as a result, but he always made time for you. He always thought of you, brought you your favorite treats from his missions, latched onto you when he came back because he missed you.

Apparently you started sobbing at some point while you thought about all of that, because the next thing you know, he’s wrapping his newly thickened arms around you and pulling you into his sturdy chest.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” his voice is subdued now, full of guilt. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. It’s just that—”

“That’s not…” you sniffle, shaking your head as you try to find the strength to get a full sentence out in the midst of your break down. “I believe in you, Satoru, I do, I didn’t mean—didn’t mean to say that…”

He hugs you tighter, rubbing up and down your arm. You continue.

“I’m just so fucking scared, Satoru, I’m scared.”

More sobs wrack your body and he can only sigh heavily, trying to hold you as close to himself as he can.

“I don’t want to do this to you,” his voice is thin, like he’s trying hard to keep it even. “I hate that I can’t give you a normal, easy life with me.”

You huff, wrapping your arms around him. “That’s not…I wouldn’t trade what we have for the world, Satoru, for the world…”

“I just hate that this is causing you so much pain,” he replies. “I’m supposed to be taking it away, not making it worse. God, I really am the worst, aren’t I?”

You shake your head in disagreement, planting a kiss on his neck to protest his statement. His breath hitches, and the next moment, he’s raising your chin up with his index finger, ducking to connect your lips. You make a small noise in the back of your throat and kiss back, arms winding around his neck to draw him closer. You feel him hug your waist, and go willingly when he backs you up.

The backs of your legs meet the edge of his bed, the one that you’ve become so familiar with it’s more comfortable than your own at the place you rarely sleep anymore, and you realize that this might be the last chance you ever get to share it with him.

Another sob escapes you before you can stop it and you grab the collar of his shirt tightly, pulling him down with you. You fall onto the mattress, Satoru catching himself so he doesn’t crush you as he kisses you passionately.

You trail your palms down his chest, down his abdomen, over the tight black shirt he has on, then back up again just to feel him. Satoru is here right now, in your hands, on top of you—you need to cherish this while it lasts.

You break the kiss as your crying worsens, unable to stop lamenting the fact that you can’t freeze time in its place right now.

“Shh,” his sugary voice hushes you, “Shh, focus on me. I want this to feel good for you, okay? We can’t have you crying your way through it, silly, then you won’t remember a thing.”

You sniffle, trying to wipe at your eyes. “I don’t want to just r-remember you…I need you to be okay.”

“I am okay,” he says, pecking your brow bone sweetly. “I’m right here. Just feel me. Nothin’ else. Don’t even think right now, thinking’s not useful.”

You huff shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his mouth go for your neck. He scrapes his teeth over your jugular to shock pleasure into your senses, successfully distracting some of the anguish right out of you.

“That’s it,” like this, his voice sounds almost like a purr, and you shiver, arms wrapping around his shoulders to grip at his back. He leaves a wet kiss where his teeth were and swipes his tongue over the spot, starting to suckle. You give him a soft noise in response, relishing in the fact that you know he’s leaving a mark on purpose. It’ll be there at least for a few days, or more if he really tries.

“Make it dark,” you breathe, “Give me as many as you can, please.”

“You don’t have to beg me,” he murmurs below your ear, sending heat pulsing downward. “I’ll give anything you want from me.”

You suck in a sharp breath. “Anything?”

At your eager question, he chuckles lowly, lifting himself up to meet your eyes. “Hmm. You have something specific in mind, don’t you?”

Your face heats up involuntarily, but the urgency of the situation has you forcing your bashfulness down. This might be the only time to ask. You had wanted to wait until the two of you were settled, maybe married if that’s what you agreed on, but now there might not be another moment. This could be it. And you know that if you don’t tell him what you want now and something happens, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.

With that thought, you take a deep breath and raise your hand to cup his face, brushing a few strands of his fringe away from his eyes.

“I want your baby, Satoru.”

You see the moment the words register in his brain. His eyes light up with something you’ve never seen before, and he smiles as if you just gave him the sweetest, most sincere compliment he’s ever heard.

“Yeah? A piece of me forever, huh?”

You nod, a grin tugging at your lips even as droplets continue to spill down your cheeks. “Yeah. Our love personified.”

He chuckles wetly and you think you see his eyes turn glossy, but he’s kissing you again before you can confirm it.

“It’s yours,” he says against your mouth. “All yours.”

You lose yourself in the long kiss that follows. All you can feel is him moving on top of you, tongue dancing with yours so intimately it would have the angels in the room blushing.

You raise your hips when he tugs at your pants, taking your underwear with them. He sits back on his haunches to slide them off your legs, eyes gentle as he gets between them and pushes his hands up underneath your shirt.

Sitting up quickly, you allow him to lift it off of you, discarding it behind himself. Now, you’re completely naked, but he’s still clothed.

“No fair,” you say, eyeing his shirt like it’s offensive, and he laughs.

“Say no more, say no more,” he replies, “Just lay down for me.”

Your stomach flutters with butterflies as you do as he tells you, looking up at him kneeling between your legs. You watch as he crosses his arms to peel his tight shirt off of his sculpted muscles, smooth, fair skin coming into view. He’d put a Greek god to shame, you think. He’s so tear-jerkingly beautiful it threatens madness in your mind.

“Like what you see?” He taunts mischievously, standing up to untie his pants and push those along with his boxers down his hips. His reddened erection springs free and you stare unabashedly at it, never having got used to the sight fully. He’s huge, both long and thick, all smooth skin except for a prominent vein on the underside. You used to joke with him early on in your relationship that it was the main reason for his cocky attitude, that you’d probably act the same way if you had a dick like that, and it always made him laugh. You love making him laugh. God, you love Satoru so much.

“Oh, you definitely like what you see now,” he snorts, climbing back onto the bed. “Gotta admit, it’s hot as hell to see you objectify me like that.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I’m nothing but a glorified sperm donor, mistress.”

You make an incredulous face. “What? I’m not—you don’t even—”

“Shh, I’m just teasin’,” he grins at you, leaning down to peck your lips. “I know you love me.”

You blow out a puff of air like a deflating balloon. “Satoru, I swear to god.”

He chuckles, shutting himself up by kissing you again. “That’s just how I show love.”

You chase his lips, hearing his words for the ‘I love you’ they truly are, threading your hands in his hair.

His big palms find your hips and he centers them for himself, lining up and grinding his stiff member against your wet core.

“Mmh,” you moan, moving with him, “Satoru…”

He sighs shakily, grabbing the crook of your knee to push it up, giving himself more room to move. His grinds become more forceful and it has you stuttering little gasps, nails digging into his back.

“Already scratchin’ me up?” He asks, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “But I haven’t even put it in yet.”

The laugh you reply with is half-assed, need distracting you, and you find his eyes. “What’s stopping you?”

“Oh? Someone’s impatient,” he chuckles, stamping a kiss to your nose. “All right, all right. Better give you what you want.”

He takes ahold of himself and lines up, breathing a heavy sigh as he sinks into you. As soon as he does, you make a noise in the back of your throat, hugging him closer to you. As he bottoms out, you can’t help but press more chaste kisses wherever you can on him—his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. You just love him. You love the feeling of his body on top of yours, the warm weight unique to him, how he fills your arms up, tangible and strong. You breathe in deeply, the sweet musk of his skin filling your senses. It’s your favorite scent in the entire world.

He pulls back and rocks forward again slowly, taking care to get you used to his size. So much has happened lately that you haven’t been able to get intimate a lot, so you have to let him ease you back into it.

As he works you open on his cock slowly, you take to caressing the smooth skin of his back, eyes closed to revel in the sound of his heavy breaths, strained with the effort to control his movements so as not to hurt you. You love how solid he is under your palms. You could touch him forever. If he survives this fight, you swear that you’ll never let go of him again. You plead mentally with any deity that may hear you to protect Satoru.

You kiss the soft underside of his chin and hold him closer, holding onto that thought. Protect him. Keep him safe. Keep him alive. I love this man so much, just please don’t take him away from me.

He chooses that moment to start picking up the pace, the dull ache it gives you enough to thankfully keep you from spiraling further. You sigh, bending your knees further to give him more room. Your legs then wrap around him, ankles crossing at the base of his spine, and he responds by going faster. The room begins to fill with the sound of your bodies meeting over and over, his length molding you to his shape with every push of his hips into yours.

On a particularly hard thrust, you gasp, tightening around him, and it causes him to groan right after you. His voice is so sweet. It was one of the things that stood out to you about him when you had first met him—the way he always seemed to have perfect control over it. He speaks with ebbs and flows to contour the meanings of his words, to give them his special nuance that perfectly colors in his personality. He’s just so animated when he speaks. If he’s annoyed, you’ll hear it. If he’s playful, you’ll hear it. If he’s happy, you’ll hear it.

Right now, as he works through stuttered breaths and hitched moans, delivered exhales of your name weaved into declarations of his bliss, you hear the pleasure you’re giving him. That control starts to slip and words start tumbling from his lips, voice thin and shaky, a tone reserved just for you.

You turn your head to lay a kiss on his lips, landing on the corner of his mouth, but he understands what you need, sweeping you into a languid, passionate make out session as he rocks in and out of you. You hear him make a sort of wet noise before he doubles down on his efforts, pushing deep inside of you and starting to roll his body.

“Satoru,” you hiss in surprise, mouth falling open as his abdomen grinds against the sensitive bud above the place he’s buried inside of, heightening the goosebumps that break out on your skin. Your head falls back and he takes the opportunity to start making as many marks on your skin as he can with his mouth. Like this, you feel yourself getting close, and that has you remembering what comes after this.

He’s going to leave, and he might not come back.

This might be the last time you ever get to have him.

“I love you,” you say, just needing to get the words out, needing him to know. “You’re so important to me—thank you for everything, Satoru.”

His breath catches in his throat and he finds your gaze, reaching up to cup your jaw in his palm.

“Thank you for everything,” He replies sincerely. “Thank you for loving me. For dealing with all my bullshit and sticking by me.”

“Always,” you shake your head, eyes filling with new tears. You sniffle, feeling that choked desperation start seizing your chest again. “Always, Satoru.”

He smiles at you but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Those beautiful luminescent oceans only reflect the deep sadness the both of you feel, and to see it glaringly obvious in his gaze breaks your heart. He can’t fake his happiness this time, not even for you. He’s human too, and being here with you like this in what might be the last time threatens to undo him.

Satoru swallows thickly and concentrates on his movements to distract himself, forcing himself to focus on the noises you make as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. He wants this to last forever just like you do, but you both know he’s needed by more people than just you.

Your climax approaches and with it, your emotions swell up inside of you. You remember meeting him for the first time, you remember when he started pursuing you, how happy he was when you agreed to a date, how hard he’d tried to win you over yet how effortless he made it look. Every time you two shared a laugh, every time he was there while you cried, how he always managed to put a smile back on your face. How sweet of a man he is to his students, how proud you can tell he is whenever he talks about them, and how his eyes light up whenever he eats a treat he’s fond of. God, you just love him.

“Satoru,” you whimper, orgasm hitting you abruptly. “Oh god, I love you so much.”

He exhales forcefully as he feels it, managing a few sloppy thrusts before he’s cumming as well pushing as deep as he can go in effort to fulfill your earlier request.

As you start to come down, the fear and despair come back tenfold, overtaking you in a fit of sobs. He wraps his arms around you and buries his nose in your hair.

“I’ll win,” He whispers to you, “I will. I’ll come back and we’ll raise the little shit we just made together, okay? They’ll probably grow up like me but I hope they’re more like you, baby.”

You hiccup loudly as you cry harder, clinging to the image of a happy family with him for dear life.

“It’s gonna be okay. You have to trust me,” He insists, inhaling slowly. “I have to go now.”

You hold him tighter, squeezing your eyes shut to commit this to memory before he’s pulling away, lifting himself off of you and grabbing his clothes quickly.

He dresses in silence, your cries the only thing echoing around the room. All you can manage to do is put on one of his button-ups from the foot of his bed, wiping furiously at your eyes.

Too soon, he’s clothed again, and it’s time for him to go.

He walks over to you again and takes your chin gently in his hand, tilting it up so that your eyes connect. He smiles softly at you.

“You know that I love you, right?”

A deep ache seats into your chest. He’s said it in a million ways before but never in its original form, those simple, crater-heavy three words. You nod, sniffling as another wave of lament threatens to pull you under.

“I do,” you confirm, forcing it out in a strained voice. He nods to himself, leaning in and pressing his soft lips to your forehead.

You feel the moment that he uses his technique to flash himself out of the room, because his warm presence that naturally takes up a lot of space vanishes and leaves absolutely everything feeling cold and sterile.

You break down again, head falling into your hands.

Shoko had told you where everyone would be watching the fight take place. You want to be there, and you will go, but you need to be alone first.

You just hope with all of your might that you won’t be left alone with only a piece of him to succeed his legacy. You want him to be there too. You need him to be there.

You need him to be okay.

—-

A/N: i gave myself an ouchie on the heart while writing this. whoops. also wow is he gorgeous in that picture at the top?? anyways here’s the second part where he survives bc i should be gege instead so he’ll be okay :-)

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru gojo #gojo headcanons #gojo imagine #gojo smut #gojo x reader

691 notes · View notes

cultofdixon · 10 months ago

Text

Please don’t take my sunshine away

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Saviors War ended. Doesn’t mean vendettas don’t exist. The archer just wished those who hated him would fuck with him and not someone as important as you • ANGST/SFW • TW: Major injuries / Blood loss / Concussion / Discomfort

Requested by: Anon

“You are one impatient man when it comes to your other half”

Daryl brought his attention toward the front door where Maggie stood with a tired expression on her face with an equally tired infant in her arms.

“Sorry if me leavin’ woke you both”

“No no. Hershel was the one to wake me but that’s what you sign up for with babies” Maggie smiles at her son who finally relaxed in her embrace. “Now why are you up? Y/N is going to be here in the morning”

“That. That’s exactly why”

“Again, impatient” She laughs bringing herself to sit on the steps as Daryl pushes himself off the pillar to sit beside his friend. “She’ll get here when she’ll get here”

Nothing could go wrong.

It was starting to become unbearable. The waiting for his partner even if he was occupied for most of the day.

Daryl decided to take his bike out of the community for his break, thinking Y/N’s car must have run out of gas on the way over so he would bring one over. But before he even left, Siddiq stepped through the gates with Enid who’s shadowing him to become a medic. They were coming from Oceanside after doing check ups and the route from that community and Alexandra merge at a point when heading toward the Hilltop. So he could’ve seen anything on his way over.

“No, we didn’t see a car on the way over”

“There were a lot of walkers in a single spot that we took care of and it was just a dead deer.”

“So you really shouldn’t worry about Y/N” Siddiq instantly went to where Daryl was thinking as Enid nodded nervously.

“Yeah well she hasn’t turned up. I gotta head out there and see what’s happenin’.” Daryl got on his bike about to start it when Siddiq laid a hand on his shoulder giving him a worried look.

“I’ll get Maggie’s radio. Just in case”

Daryl nodded, gripping onto his radio subconsciously.

This isn’t right?

Eugene told me this car had its maintenance done. Why is it being like this?

Fuck—-FUCK, where are the breaks?!

Who messed with the brea——

Y/N flinched awake after the initial crash as she slowly lifted her head off the steering wheel feeling the throbbing stiff pain in her chest. Her ribs were broken. The pain wasn’t only there. Her whole body ached and given the shaking from the shock, so much more happened. The blood loss was getting to her, how long has she been out? She went to reach for her pack in the passengers only to notice the glass shards embedded in her right arm. Staring at what caused pain on one side of her resulted in a realization that she couldn’t feel her other arm. Before she could even try and touch it, her lungs constricted causing her to cough into her hand noticing the blood and that’s when the tears started.

She’s going to die out here.

Then it clicked to her. Where she crashed and how far she was from the Hilltop, it shouldn’t go unnoticed if Y/N pressed down on the horn. She tested it at first to make sure that the horn was still connected but then she remembered it’s not the old world. Walkers littered the earth and just from testing it could’ve triggered one over.

But the smallest test caught the archer’s attention as he drove near the sound and took out walkers nearby.

The honk was only once, and then suddenly consistent.

Daryl followed and killed the walkers near the sound as it came clear what happened…or at least why she didn’t show up…

Fuck fuck fuck Daryl quickly ran to the driver’s door after dropping his bike. He forced the door open seeing the damage for himself as he struggled to keep his composure.

She felt him gently bring herself against the seat to check her pulse and thankfully it was there for him.

The sound of the radio buzz caught Enid’s attention from their inventory re-check as she quickly grabs it.

“Hello? Daryl?” She says watching Siddiq turn around to face her and eye the radio.

“It’s bad. It’s really fucking bad”

“We’ll see you soon” Enid stopped pressing their radio tossing it onto the counter and quickly cleaning up what they were doing.

“Once you put that box away, go inform Maggie and Jesus. Maybe someone can shorten the walk over here and drive Y/N the rest of the way back. Then come back and help me set up for anything” Siddiq states watching Enid not even wait another moment and sprint out of the infirmary.

They managed to connect to somebody who was on their way to the Sanctuary. The quick detour to pick up the two was the only easy part. The driving with a pretty much broken person in the vehicle was one of the first few difficult things to handle.

“Maybe drive fucking smoother?!” Daryl snaps at the driver who was already trying his best not to hit any bumps along the way but it is a dirt road to Hilltop compared to the others.

The gates opened the second they heard the car pulling up. Jesus accompanied Siddiq and Enid with helping Y/N get to the medical trailer but Jesus was mainly there to block Daryl the second the two medics got their patient.

“You seriously gonna keep me from her?!”

“Do you even see yourself? She’s going to feel worse seeing all of her blood on your person”

“How the fuck would you know that?! She’s not even awa—-“ Both Daryl and Jesus turned toward the shout coming from the medical trailer as the archer didn’t hesitate to shove the skilled fighter out of his way.

When he entered, Y/N was awake and trying to get Siddiq’s assessing hands away from touching her injuries. Her hands shook when trying to shove him away as he couldn’t stop paying attention to her left arm that was barely moving. He directed Enid to pin her as he gently—as best as he could, grab her shoulder watching her retract her entire body resulting in another shout of pain to escape her. Daryl noticed they cut her shirt to access the injured better and saw the deep blue and purple bruising from her ribs breaking. He was frozen in place, everyone expected him to try and intervene but how could he? He doesn’t know how to handle these things.

Siddiq noticed his presence after a while and glared at the man along with it directed to Jesus. “Get him out of here!” He barked as Jesus quickly grabbed Daryl.

“Come on. Let them work” He struggled to pull Daryl away as he instantly broke out of his grasp stepping over to the situation.

“Jesus I told you—-“

“If I grabbed him now, who knows what you’ll need to fix next” Jesus snaps back only to turn his attention to the doorway when Maggie called out for him needing his assistance.

Daryl gently rest his hand on Y/N’s head causing her to turn her attention onto him. Tears spilled from her bruised blooded face as she couldn’t think of anything to say but she instantly relaxed the best she could given her body ached when Daryl started to shush her in a calming manner. When her body finally relaxed, Siddiq gave Enid a nod for the okay to start working on her while he got an IV in her arm.

“You’re doing great, sunshine…you’re doing great” Daryl whispers brushing away the hair in her face. He glances up noticing Siddiq’s hesitation in popping her shoulder back in place, but once they agreed through the silence. Daryl stood up holding her carefully but also pinning her.

“It will only last a few seconds. I’ll be quick”

“It’s gonna be alright” Daryl reassures Y/N as she watches Siddiq get to work with fixing the dislocation.

After popping her shoulder back into place, she passed out. It scared the few working on her but Siddiq reassured that it was from the shock subsiding and the blood loss of course. Which led Daryl to reveal he’s a universal donor to Siddiq when Enid went to give Maggie an update.

“Are you sure she’ll be okay with this?”

“No, but she needs it” Daryl sat down in the offered seat as Siddiq went ahead with preparing his arm.

“I won’t tell anyone else. I know why you’re doing it now but again—“

“Yeah I get it, Siddiq. Just…yeah hurry up” The archer looked away when he put the needle in, not because he’s squeamish but because this brought weird memories.

After doing the blood transfusion, Daryl stepped out for a moment applying pressure to his arm giving them time to stitch the deep gashes and finish with cleaning and bandaging. He noticed the truck that Rick normally drives being by the Barrington house and when he brought himself into the vicinity there was more than just Rick in the building.

“Daryl, just…the man we needed right now” Rick clears his throat avoiding his eyes as Maggie and Michonne’s worried expressions caught the archer’s attention.

“What happened?”

“We investigated further on what happened to your partner” Jesus started the conversation but no one wanted to say it.

Which easily drove Daryl nuts.

“Spit it out”

“Someone cut the brake wires to the vehicle Y/N was driving” Michonne stated watching him tense. “then when we asked around Alexandria—more specifically the recent Saviors we took in. One of them threatened Y/N before she left”

“And the Saviors aren’t all too bright. They didn’t want her to crash the car” Rick finishes handing Daryl the list of Saviors they are shipping out of Alexandria.

“They did that…expecting me to fucking drive the car and crash?”

“Knowing you, you would’ve been able to crash…safely. Regardless. We are moving those Saviors back to the Sanctuary and—-“

“That’s all you’re ever gonna do. My fucking partner, my WIFE, almost died because some fucking Saviors are still out for me. Or hell they wanted her dead so I would finish the fucking job that y’all didn’t do that night on the hill” Daryl scoffs stepping away from the conversation as Maggie cut through the group letting them take care of the situation for themselves.

“Daryl—-“

“Mags I’m sorry for bringin’ it up again. But I can’t listen to—-“

“You’re right” Maggie grabbed his shoulder making him stop and turn to her. “You didn’t say it but you’re right that their decision for handling this situation is wrong. They should’ve exiled them or worse. But can we at least focus on right now? Y/N is alive. Doing alright. And I’m recommending you both to live here until she’s well enough or hell. Permanently.”

“Y/N wouldn’t agree to the permanently thing. She spent too much time rebuilding our house…it’s just gonna take a while”

“I know and you both can spend that while, here. Or the Kingdom with Carol and Ezekiel. Literally anywhere until she’s ready to go back.”

Daryl didn’t have anymore words on the matter while his anxiety had a chokehold on him. Unexpectedly, the tears spilled as his thoughts raced and while Maggie had too many thoughts herself on the matter…she pushed them aside and brought her arms around her friend keeping him close as he latched onto her.

“She could’ve died…and left me all alone”

“You know she’s a fighter…you’re going to be stuck with her forever” Maggie laughs softly holding him for as long as he wanted.

Soon Daryl found himself seated beside Y/N’s gurney staring at every bandage, every bruise, her swollen face, and her arm strapped to her chest. He next focused on the rise and fall of her chest, afraid of the possible stop. But that never came and she was going to be okay…

“Hey…” Daryl smiles warmly gently kissing Y/N’s forehead as she had been asleep for three days since the accident. He stuck by her side the entire time for the moment she opened her eyes.

“Hi…” Y/N gave him a tired smile even with the bit of pain coursing through her, thank god the drugs helped with it. “You’re dumb”

“For?” He scoffs feeling her hand touch the bruise he got from the IV. “Yeah well, I ain’t losing yea so”

“Mm. Would’ve been out longer if you didn’t.” Y/N kept her hold on him for him to get the hint to sit on the edge of the bed letting her non-strapped arm rest in his lap feeling his hand rub up and down her arm gently. “Gonna take a lot to keep me out”

“Good” Daryl leaned over kissing her lips before pulling away to get one good look at her. “I love you…so much”

“Mm getting sappy, Dixon” She teases patting his leg as he took her hand into his squeezing it and bringing it up to his lips. “I love you, and I’m here. I’m alive. So stop worrying for right now…”

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

“Yes. For now” Daryl mumbles to himself as Y/N gave him a certain look that lead him to lifting her up enough for him to slip in beside her bringing her into his embrace.

She’s okay

She’s alive

And they are going to pay.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

357 notes · View notes

aranock · 5 months ago

Text

I'm tired.

Just sort of in general I am exhausted. I know I put on a brave face a lot, but the hate does get to me. The constant unceasing hatred both offline and online gets to me. I'm human idk what to say. Been thinking a lot about the Bilbo quote, I might be paraphrasing, "I feel like too little butter spread across too much toast."

It's pride month, I should be feeling happy right? I convocated finally after a brutal long degree I should be feeling happy right? I like how my body looks for the first time in my life shouldn't I feel happy?

And I know that's not helpful, that feelings are not a should thing. And yet I feel it anyway :/. Not that I do not feel happy, I would say on average I am better than I have been at any other point in my life. But it does get to me.

I was invited to dinner with a former family member, a blood relative that breached every boundary I placed and even went so far as to accost me in a public space. It's hard watching someone lose all love for you the more you become yourself. Being told I'm an embarrassment to my parents by creeps online stings a lot more now that I had a blood relative say it to my face while aggressively yanking my jacket so I couldn't get away. I know its a lie, I know that this person saying that hurt my parents as much as it did me. Alas, anxiety rarely responds to facts or evidence.

Everytime it feels like I'm fine and over it; this person manages to weasel their way around boundaries to fuck up my mental health for a week. And the thing about chronic illnesses like mine is they flare up quite horrendously when you get stressed and anxious. Anxiety means waking up to acid burnt throat from reflux.

It makes my voice dysphoric all day.

I think deep down one of my greatest fears is that I am unlovable, that everyone around me secretly hates me and is just waiting for the excuse to finally be rid of interacting with me. I am terrified that I am a burden. Mortified by the false belief that I am broken.

Despite how horrific my childhood adolescence and some of my early adulthood were, my family was at least a safe place. I recognize that I was privileged to have that. With that said I think the reason this whole thing has rocked me so much is that it violated that one last place I felt safe. It has made me doubt the love of those I never thought I would.

Sometimes transphobia feels like drowning, and if you try to swim for air everyone decides to shove you further down cause actually it's proof you are faking needing breath.

I text someone anytime I go run errands, just to make sure someone knows. Had too many experiences of hate. I get anxious when I go to get groceries; will this be the time I get hit by a vehicle driven by a far right transphobe, am I going to get called a slur again, will the store staff get suspicious of me and search through all my groceries to make sure I actually paid for it. But please, tell me how I don't know what its like to be oppressed. When men sexually harass, catcall, creepily hit on, follow me around clearly I am not at all experiencing sexism. Obviously the real worst thing in the world is that women "cancel" people on the internet, and trans people exist. Did they think sending me hateful articles would suddenly make me go "oh yes clearly its all in my head, please genocide my community, I stand for nothing and have the moral backbone of a slug."

I don't really know why I'm writing this, I dont usually feel or desire to express something like this publicly. I will probably delete it later. Maybe I disappear into writing cause its easier to deal with the feelings that way. That at least then someone gets something out of my pain. That maybe it helps to condense emotional mountains to the mole hills of short strokes of a pen or presses of a key. To let them explode outward in a flurry of thoughts and words that others look at and say "I too have felt this, you are not alone, you are not wrong for feeling this way."

Anything to take the weight of it all off my chest for a second.

Because I am tired.

I'm exhausted really.

I don't want to be brave or strong or resilient. It's tiring to bear the weight of that and a billion projections. Atlas does not bear the heavens upon his shoulders because he is strong or brave. He bears it because he has no other choice. Because people put it on him.

I just want to exist; that is apparently too much to ask for as a trans woman.

If you are concerned, please don't worry I'll be fine, I was fine every other time after all. This too shall pass. But right now it hurts.

And I have had my fill of hurt for many lifetimes.

79 notes · View notes

runninriot · 1 year ago

Text

Love Is A Polaroid Steddie ficlet | ~2k | cw: implied/referenced self-destructive behaviour, drinking, a little heartbreak before it gets better | happy sappy steddie & platonic stobin

inspired by the insanely talented @inklessletter 's #polaroid series (go check out their art right now!!!)

"Steeeve, please!" Robin begs. Literally begs.

Like, hands folded together as if in prayer, a pleading look in her eyes, expression as if she's in pain.

"Robs, no! I don't- that's stupid. I don't feel comfortable with you following us around to take pictures for your- whatever it is." He waves a hand at her dismissively.

"It's a project, Steve. For my Photography Studies course."

He should know, she already explained that. Told him something about visualizing love in its purest form. Told him she wants to take polaroid pictures of him and Eddie. No posing, just random shots whenever she feels like it. Pictures in black and white - something about using dark tones and deep contrasts to enhance the beauty of simple moments in their day to day life.

"Whatever. I still don't get why it has to be us?"

Steve is a little frustrated. She's been going on about her wonderful idea for a good few minutes now, not willing to drop the subject no matter how adamantly Steve declines. She knows how shy he gets when he knows someone is taking a picture of him. He hates how he always looks a little off, has never felt very photogenic. So, the mere thought of Robin capturing him in possibly awkward situations with his boyfriend makes his skin crawl.

"Well, first of all, you are my best friends, so it would mean a lot to have you be part of it. Plus, we live together so I wouldn’t be around you any more than I already am. You wouldn’t even notice. And you two are the perfect motive because-“ Robin’s eyes flicker down to her own feet, unable to hold his gaze.

Her face is suddenly painted with a faint crimson blush. Steve's furrowed brows smooth out and his expressions go soft again when he looks at his best friend's bashful little smile as she looks sheepishly back up at him.

"You are the perfect motive because I've never seen two people being so in love with each other. Makes me sick how soft and cute you two are, if I'm honest."

Robin chuckles and Steve snorts loudly, both rolling their eyes at the same time because God, when did Robin become such a sap?

"What you and Eddie have is love in its purest form. It’s unapologetic, honest, and real. It's all I ever want to find for myself. I'm fucking jealous of you, Steve!"

They laugh and Steve ignores the violent tug in his heart caused by her words.

What him and Eddie have really is special. He knows it's some kind of miracle that they've ended up where they are now. It wasn't always that easy. There were times when Steve wanted to just give up. When the world tumbled down and buried him under its weight. When he thought he could never have Eddie like that, wanted to rather die than live life without him.

When Steve realised he had fallen in love with his best friend, his best male friend, he panicked. Finding out he likes boys like he likes girls wasn't even the scariest part. What really took him out was the fear of losing Eddie if he ever told him the truth. For weeks he tried to push his feelings down, tried to cage them behind his ribs but all it did was make him suffer even more. Every time Eddie looked at him, he felt a sharp pain in his heart. Every time Eddie touched him, it left a searing sensation on his skin. Every time they were alone, Steve felt like he was losing his mind, desperately trying to fight the urge to kiss the boy so blissfully unaware of the heartache he caused him. He fought and suffered in silence until he couldn’t take it anymore and succumbed to the tormenting ache in his chest. Until he fell into a dark hole.

Steve drifted apart, dulling his feelings with unhealthy amounts of booze. Hunting for warm, willing bodies to sink into. Starving for touch and affection just to feel anything other than the grief-stricken pain of losing the lover he never even had to begin with.

Of course, his self-destructive behaviour hadn’t gone unnoticed by his friends. Robin tried everything in her power to get through to him. Offered advice and help for all the wrong problems because she couldn’t have known that the real issue was his own fucking mind and his inability to talk about what kept him up at night. What made him so angry and distant and numb.

And then there was Eddie. Sweet, kind, and caring Eddie who couldn’t keep watching his friend ruin his own life anymore. Who gave him an ultimatum – stop hurting yourself or I’ll leave.

Eddie’s words felt like a pistol held to his head, the determination in his teary eyes like a finger ready to pull the trigger. Steve knew he meant it, knew this was his last chance. He would lose the one person that meant everything to him.

“I can’t lose you, Eddie.”

“Then let me love you instead.”

He said the words like it was easy. Like it hadn’t nearly cost Steve his sanity to even think them.

Love.

Love you.

“I love you!”

Steve felt like he was startling awake from a nightmare. One of those where, once you’ve opened your eyes, you instantly forget its horrors. That’s what it felt like when his confession found its way out of his mouth, making the pain of the past months disperse into nothingness.

Eddie had been right there all this time.

Eddie, with tears running down his beautiful face, smiling lovingly at Steve. Eddie, who brought his hands up to each side of Steve’s face before he leaned down and sealed his lips with a bruising kiss. Despair and pain spilling from his mouth as he licked his way inside, forcefully pushing something else in their place. Filling Steve’s insides with warmth and light and happiness. Passion running through his veins, pumping love into his heart, restarting the rotten organ to pick up its once steady beat. Its rhythm hard and fast, growing in size so big Steve felt like it would burst right through his chest.

I. Love. You.

Three simple words were all it took.

All the pain, the suffering, the loveless nights, and dreadful days – they all vanished in the seconds it took to say them out loud.

Three simple words, that seemed so frightening in his mind, so loaded with too much meaning and not enough weight to truly express what he felt.

What he still feels.

Loving Eddie and be loved by him in return is so easy. It’s easy because it just comes naturally. It’s what makes their love so pure, so honest, and true. They have one heart beating in two separate bodies. They are a two-piece puzzle, their curves and edges shaped to fit. A perfect match.

Steve holds out his hands, waits for Robin to take them in hers, and pulls her into a hug.

“Eddie already said yes, hasn’t he?” Steve says through a defeated smile.

“Well, his exact words were ‘You’re gonna regret it, Bucks.’ And then he said something about being extra nasty and insufferable just to wind me up. But yeah, he’s on board.” Robin huffs out a laugh.

Steve pulls her tighter, laughs when he practically hears Eddie’s voice in his head, sees his mischievous grin before his inner eye.

Eddie loves to be the centre of attention. Loves to be in the spotlight. Of course, he would be happy to provide himself as vessel for Robin’s artistic outlet.

The things you do for love, Steve sighs before he agrees.

Polaroid #1

Movie night. The three friends are watching some old, trashy horror movie. Steve had a very stressful day at work, can barely keep his eyes open when they’re not even 15 minutes into the movie. He falls asleep on the couch, unbothered by Robin and Eddie’s bickering and laughing. When the movie comes to an end, Eddie leans down to Steve’s resting body, foreheads touching as he takes a moment to just listen to the other man’s calm breathing. ‘Hey baby,’ Eddie whispers softly, ‘time to get up.’ He kisses the tip of Steve’s nose, waits for him to slowly drift out of his deep slumber.

Steve smiles sleepily when he opens his eyes and sees Eddie’s face hovering over him, accepts the gentle press of Eddie’s lips against his own.

‘C’mon, darling. Let’s get you to bed.’

‘I’m not even tired anymore,’ Steve says, his face scrunched up when he yawns loudly.

‘Hmm, I know a way to tire you out, baby. Don’t worry,’ Eddie answers smugly, brushing their noses together before he kisses him again.

Robin makes a gagging sound, but smiles as she takes a picture to capture this soft little moment.

Polaroid #2

Sunday morning. They are all a little groggy from Robin’s early birthday celebrations last night. They’ve been out dancing, downing shot after shot, having an awesome time. Now, the buzz from the night before is gone and makes way for headaches and hangover munchies. Steve promised Robin pancakes in the morning and she’s desperate for him to finally get up and make them. She knocks on their bedroom door and steps in without waiting for an answer. The boys are still in bed. Eddie looks like he just woke up with his frazzled hair hanging into his face, lying half on top of Steve, rubbing his eyes. ‘Just five more minutes’, Steve grumbles, refuses to turn and get up.

It’s her Birthday, sure, and he promised her food she absolutely, definitely needs to soak up the remaining alcohol in her system – but she can give him another five minutes.

When she returns (exactly five minutes later), she captures Eddie and Steve still in bed. Eddie’s lips grazing the skin on his mole-speckled back with a dreamy look in his eyes, while Steve sighs in defeat ‘Alright, Robs. You win.’

The shutter clicks just before he turns around to throw a pillow at her head, causing Eddie to tumble to the side and nearly topple off the bed.

Polaroid #3

Robin sorts through the pile of polaroid pictures she’s taken over the last two weeks:

Steve and Eddie dancing in the kitchen to some dorky love song.

Steve resting between Eddie’s thighs where they lie cuddled up on the sofa, Eddie reading his favourite book to Steve.

Eddie trying and failing to make a handstand, Steve beside him, holding his belly from laughing so hard.

A picture of all three of them on Robin’s birthday, faces covered in whipped cream and chocolate syrup after devouring their pancakes like starving animals.

Eddie with his guitar in his lap, Steve sitting on the floor across from him. They share a loving look, eyes full of desire and devotion.

And then- Robin startles in shock. How did that get in here?

She knows she didn’t take that picture. She couldn’t have. Not with the way she already feels the deep blush creeping up her face because- Jesus! That’s entirely too personal. She feels like she’s invading their privacy just by looking at that. This surely isn’t meant for anyone’s eyes but theirs.

It’s not like they’re visibly naked but the position of their bodies leaves literally no room for speculations. One of Eddie’s hands wrapped around Steve’s throat and Steve looks like- well, he looks absolutely fucking blissful. Robin can practically hear the soft moans escaping his parted lips (How she knows what he sounds like, you ask? They swore to never ever talk about that incident ever again).

It looks like Eddie is kissing him. Or maybe he licks his skin. Maybe he whispers some dirty words into his ear, tells him how he’s going to wreck him – who knows? The point is, Robin doesn’t want to know because as much as she adores them, as much as she’s been prying on their sweet moments over the past weeks, there are things that should be kept between them.

She’s going to frame it and surprise them with it. (What she doesn’t know, is that Eddie sneaked that picture into her folder just to tease her. What she also doesn’t know is that there’s a whole collection of more of these kind of pictures hidden in a shoebox under their bed.)

#steddie ficlet #tumblr fic #inspired by #inklessletter #polaroid series

161 notes · View notes

quitealotofsodapop · 11 months ago

Note

haha I love the "slow-boiled stone egg" name for this au thats adorable! I have some to chew on now thank you! I will be drawing some funny moments for this au now <3

[Many foes back off just by the tired firey glare in the King's eyes.] Wukong's presence is enough to scare most off, and the most of the rest who think about still trying end up taking one look at him and just knowing it's not worth it XD

[Wukong never managed to tell Macaque about the Egg in that lifetime.] it breaks his heart. later, the fact he never knew breaks Macaque's heart too, he'd always wanted a family with his king

[he's convinced that the Egg's presence at the Samadhi Fire was what caused the Rings to Split and hit Ao Lie.] I didn't mention it in my first post but it was part of my thought process that the stone egg started "kicking" mid-ritual, and try as he might to keep control of the situation the pain from that is what causes Wukong to slip allowing the creation of the fourth ring.

[By isolating himself, he accidentally causes his body to *turn down the heat* and extend the process even longer.] awww no, nore isolation! he's gonna be so mad when he realizes he prolonged the whole thing more. but maybe it's better that way, it wouldn't be good to have the egg be born while his mental health is that bad and he doesn't have a support network. egg is like, "no troop? no family? not suitable conditions, I'm staying in here for now". [he geniunely believed that keeping MK whilst the Stone Egg was still draining life force could kill the cub. So SWK is forced to give the little toddler up to save his life.] on the same note it's also (unfortunately) for the better, he wasn't in the right mind to care for a kid, and ebven if that isn't the direct reason he acknowledges as he reason to give MK up the fact he recognizes he might not be safe for a kid right now and does things to ensure MK still gets a good life says a lot. bonus points if he still watches over MK as he grows and giving up MK leads him to trying to better his mental health for the sake of his unborn infant.

[When him and MK finally reunite, its a little awkward but MK immediately understands the reason for the Monkey King's retirement.] wait, did MK remember he was with SWK first here or was just "meeting my fav legend irl" kind of awkward? also MK assuming it's a bad break up situation is super funny when you remember that it was his break up with Macaque that led to Wukong's body finally reaching peak egg making conditions. in a way, it is a bad break up situation, just not in the way that MK is assuming.

[being "like this longer than even Lao Tzu's mother". He returns to Pigsy's that evening silent with a horrified look on his face.] SWK def brags that he now holds the record for the longest pregnancy from any immortal. when MK goes back to Pigsy's the othres notice, and MK having already told the others why SWK wasn't doing hero work himself anymore (with SWK's permission ofc) explains what Wukong told him and the whole shop is silently horrified/very sympathetic the rest of the night.

[New Years does not go smoothly. The Spider Queen can sense that there's a new life within the King, but she decides its an issue for after the takeover.] Wukong is very surprised she doesn't immediately try and exploit the obvious weakness but she's like "I hate you but I still have some honor ape" but still goes and drains him. he's very surprised to see LBD present, and her being there when he's caught is how she learns he's carrying a stone egg. her having this information freaks him out, especially when it doesn't take her long to start making passive threats. after the spider queen debacle SWK def make a really quick tri to the south sea for a check up with Kuan Yin to make sure being drained like that didn't hurt the egg.

[DBK frees himself, not only from the fear of losing his wife and his son, but also out of fury that Wukong had been hiding his condition for so long!!] LBD approaches SWK who is tied up close to DBK, so DBK hears the whole conversation, including the parts about Wukong's condition. he spends the whole time he's trying to escape grilling Wukong about keeping it secret from even him.

[Any resentment surrounding the Bull's imprisonment is forgiven due to a certain offer... + PIF demands a proper baby shower when she hears about it from her excited husband later.] it is surprisingly easy to get back into the bull family's good graces after imprisoning DBK with that single question, as well as making up for not telling them. DBK picks up red son and runs back home super excited, he busts down the doors to his family's castle and just yells "DARLING WE'RE GONNA BE GODPARENTS" to both PIF and RS's confusion until he explains everything.

[Macaque has... suspicions when he and Wukong finally meet again in S1. He makes a comment about the king being "out of shape", but becomes concerned when his Sun refuses to fight in any way that leaves his stomach exposed.] Macaque's "comprehension of all" be coming in clutch here baby! he's instantly concerned about Wukong so closely protecting a certain part of his bidy, that usually means there's a vulnrability, a big one, but it's only when he's laying in bed later that night that it occurs to him just what that vulbrability may have been. it causes many sleepless nights after that, driving himself insane trying to figure out if he;s right or not with the information he has at hand.

["The Shadow Play" becomes more a plan to trap the Monkie Kid gang for answers. MK spills the beans. Macaque stares blankly for a minute before yelling in frustration. It's too much emotional baggage to process right now!] the endless speculation becomes too much and he just needs answers, now. but with that question out of the way there's a couple more lined right up. how far a long is he? who;s the other parent? when did it happen? but ofc he ends up not having the chance to answer those questions before LBD decides to shake things up some more.

[now with the additional threat that she will harm the Stone Egg if Macaque fails her again...] even without all the answers he wants about the stone egg Macaque knows he can't let that happen, he may have hated Wukong for a while and they have yet to even begin reconciling but he would never do anything to harm Wukong's baby if he ever had one. he wasn't going to bring an infant into their conflict. but Wukong doesn't know that. he knows Wukong doesn't know that from the way he hunches in on himself to protect his stomach the second Macaque's voice is heard above the airship. Wukong is at first terrified when Macaque gets involved, he hates the idea of having to choose between him or his unborn infant again, but Wukong already knows what he'll choose if he has to. but Macaque barely even acknowledges him, specifically doesn't target him, a noteworthy thing since Macaque's quarrel is most personal with the sage. SWK doesn't complain, he doesn't want to have to choose again.

[She tries to offer protection for the Stone Egg in exchange for the world - but Wukong refuses to answer and gets the drop on him.] clever considering his love for children in general let alone his own, but what good is having his little one alone when he so desperately wants to share that love with his family? [Macaque breaks the King from his possession by casually placing a curious hand on his swollen stomach, smiling in a way Wukong hadn't seen in centuries. "I know," is all that is said as the two monkeys allow their foreheads to touch.] Macaque is very mindful not to do anything that would risk the stone egg's life during the fight because LBD doesn't care to protect SWK's stomach the way he himself did back in s1. still, Wukong was so stressed by what was happening while he was possessed that Macaque's gentleness+pregnancy hormones causes him to ust start bawling his eyes out. loud, ugly crying tears of joy and relief.

[She did not count upon the Egg recognising her as a yummy source of spirtual energy as she was possessing it's parent. LBD soul is literally devoured as the Stone Egg responds to Wukong and Macaque's reconcillation.] the mental image of the stone egg's magic just chomping down on LBD's soul is super funny, stone egg be like "you hurt bama and then try and leave like nothing? i think not! nom". SWK sensing the egg absorbing some powerful magic and is just like "oh gods".

[Until the newly unpossessed Monkey King doubles over in pain and cries for the Bodhisattva to help him. Guanyin is on the scene in seconds, glaring at her little brother angrily. Half the gang stare jaws dropped at what is happening while the rest are panicking.] the stone egg go the last of the magic it needed and later during the celebrations felt that SWK finally had his whole family present and didn't feel isolated anymore and was like "huh, guess it's time, is it? okay" and that's that. with how close he was to popping these days Wukong had Guanyin on speed dial in case of labor finally occuring, comes in handy now with how quick they shows up but they're not happy with Wukong for putting himself and the egg in so much danger with what was happening with LBD. he shouldn't have been fighting her! he shouldn't have been fighting at all! and the smadhi fire again? they're gonna skin Wukong.

[After many hours of painful labor with Macaque clutching his hand for support, Wukong *finally* greets his baby for the first time.] Macaque is def worried on a few occasions that his hand is gonna break, but he ends up only losing feeling in his hand for a while. it's also bruised and sore for a while but it's the price he's willing to pay to be present for the stone egg's arrival. Wukong, holding his new born infant after the egg hatches def joke that she "kept him waiting".

[Her dark fur is hard to ignore. As well as the ice-blue eyes that stare between the two monkeys with wonder.] ice blue eyes as a side affect of LBD's soul getting devoured at the end there, but what if the dark fur is actually because of SWK constantly yearning for Macaque to come back after their fight during the early stages of his pregnancy, SWK's desire and longing worsened by hormones causing her to shift in appearance to fit not just her parent but his wants. [And the little excited chirps she makes that sing the tune of Wukong's favorite songs. Everyone in the Monkie Kid gang, the Demon Bull family, and any present celestials are crying with joy.] I headcanon Wukong hums a lot, so his infant picking up on the sounds of the tunes he hummed in the later stages of his pregnancy is very cute, but he probably thinks every sound she makes is like music even when not trying to mimic him. he bursts into tears the first time she chirps. Macaque def cries at her having dark fur like him cause it makes him feel more like a bio parent. DBK tries to hold it together but starts crying when she can fit into his cupped palm with ease. Kuanyin cries and gives Wukong a hug when he holds her for the first time.

[Gold Star comes down from Heaven in person to bless her arrival.] he is thanked for his blessing and also thanked for being to busy to read the specifics of Wukong's imprisonment, seeing as if he had Wukong wouldn't be holding the most precious little furball in the universe right now.

[Her eye lazers come in a little later than expected... singeing Azure Lion's fur as he goes to take the Jade Emperor's throne. All present, including members of the Brotherhood, laugh at the coincidence.] it's hard not to laugh given the context, there ends up being a joke mad that every new Jade Emperor will have stone monkey lazer eyes shot at them when they try and sit on the throne for the first time. Wukong is insanely proud.

[Yuebei's whole family are willing to *destroy* the divine animals if even dare touch a single hair on her little head.] Azure would likely try deluding himself into believing that he, Wukong, and Yuebei could be a perfect family once justice is brought to Heaven, or try to blackmail the MKrew. or both. you can imagine that won't go over with anyone too well.

[The retrieve Yuebei after they enter the palace and see the three usurpers beaten to a pulp. The infant monkey rolling around on her butt as she giggles. Azure begs the crew to "please take her back".] Azure was so busy fantasizing he didn't notice Yuebei starting to get playful, and playful+super power do not mix. she starts tugging at him to play and the rest is history.

[Wukong and Macaque are so proud of their super-delayed baby girl. :3] they will always be super proud ;)

sorta mirror post to this one.

[it breaks his heart. later, the fact he never knew breaks Macaque's heart too, he'd always wanted a family with his king]

Macaque having the mega-regret when he finds out all those years later about the Stone Egg, feeling like a dad who wasn't around for their (ex)partner and unborn baby and barely having enough time to adjust when baby arrives.

[I didn't mention it in my first post but it was part of my thought process that the stone egg started "kicking" mid-ritual, and try as he might to keep control of the situation the pain from that is what causes Wukong to slip allowing the creation of the fourth ring.]

Ooh he'd feel so bad for allowing the slip-up to happen cus of being distracted by the Egg moving (likely responding to the Samadhi fire like it would consumable dao like; "Hey, can I eat that- OOO NO SPICY!!!"). Whats worse is that his slip-up indirectly hurt his baby's godfather, and nearly killed his master :(

Wukong's mental health was not good after the ritual, no matter how greatful the Ironbull couple were for the safety of their son. Wukong risked his own baby for them, and the couple don't learn this until centuries later.

[on the same note it's also (unfortunately) for the better, he wasn't in the right mind to care for a kid, and ebven if that isn't the direct reason he acknowledges as he reason to give MK up the fact he recognizes he might not be safe for a kid right now and does things to ensure MK still gets a good life says a lot. bonus points if he still watches over MK as he grows and giving up MK leads him to trying to better his mental health for the sake of his unborn infant.]

Bonus sad detail: Wukong probably didn't need to give up MK. The Stone Egg would have sensed MK as a fellow baby monkey, and hence "troop/sibling, no eat". But Wukong could not take that chance with the limited knowledge he had. He'd rather silently watch over MK being raised by other parents, than risk the Egg's magic killing the older cub. And ofc he was in a mental health pit and just *couldn't* raise MK on his own in that state.

[Wukong is very surprised she doesn't immediately try and exploit the obvious weakness but she's like "I hate you but I still have some honor ape" but still goes and drains him.] + [after the spider queen debacle SWK def make a really quick tri to the south sea for a check up with Kuan Yin to make sure being drained like that didn't hurt the egg.]

Ohhhh, imagine post-New Years the Spider gang hears some furious knocking at the entrance to the sewer-cave. Spider Queen turns, only to see Guanyin/Kuan Yin glaring her down like the vengeful goddess she is.

Quanyin: "You hurt my little brother and his unborn baby."

[even without all the answers he wants about the stone egg Macaque knows he can't let that happen, he may have hated Wukong for a while and they have yet to even begin reconciling but he would never do anything to harm Wukong's baby if he ever had one. he wasn't going to bring an infant into their conflict. but Wukong doesn't know that.he knows Wukong doesn't know that from the way he hunches in on himself to protect his stomach the second Macaque's voice is heard above the airship. Wukong is at first terrified when Macaque gets involved, he hates the idea of having to choose between him or his unborn infant again, but Wukong already knows what he'll choose if he has to.]

Ohohoho the spicy conflict. Wukong not wanting to choose his baby's safety over Macaque again, not knowing that this time Macaque knows about the Egg and is trying his damn best to ignore Wukong so he won't have to.

Instead of the infamous "OH WUKONG!" while flying overhead at the end of S2, Macaque instead announces hos presence to MK specifically. Wukong and the gang are confused when Mac is actively trying to pretend Wukong isn't there until it clicks that he knows.

[clever considering his love for children in general let alone his own, but what good is having his little one alone when he so desperately wants to share that love with his family?]

Wukong gets the drop on him cus it's such a paradoxial offer. If he agrees, his baby will be a lonely little cub in the world like he was + he'll lose all his found family and the world at large. If he refuses, LBD might just decide to aim for the Egg directly, taking away something Wukong has been incubating/nuturing for centuries away from him and using the energy accumilated within to fuel her mech.

It gives him enough pause that LBD manages to target her possession onto him.

LBD does not think about feeding Wukong in this timeframe ofc, since in her mind he's an immortal self-sustaining puppet now. It's ultimately what leads to her demise...

[the mental image of the stone egg's magic just chompingdown on LBD's soul is super funny, stone egg be like "you hurt bama and then try and leave like nothing? i think not! nom". SWK sensing the egg absorbing some powerful magic and is just like "oh gods".]

Oh gosh I'm trying to think of how terrfying that would be to witness.

You know when the Mayor gets un-possessed by LBD? Think that, but the soul energy is getting eaten like a string of noodles and slurped into Wukong's body.

Yuebei, from deep within Wukong's body: *burp!* Everyone present: 0_o Wukong, very concerned/proud(?): "Uh... I guess the Egg... ate her???"

[the stone egg go the last of the magic it needed and later during the celebrations felt that SWK finally had his whole family present and didn't feel isolated anymore and was like "huh, guess it's time, is it? okay" and that's that.]

The Egg needed Wukong to gain a couple few more family members before it could "hatch" into Baby. XD

[I headcanon Wukong hums a lot, so his infant picking up on the sounds of the tunes he hummed in the later stages of his pregnancy is very cute, but he probably thinks every sound she makes is like music even when not trying to mimic him. he bursts into tears the first time she chirps. Macaque def cries at her having dark fur like him cause it makes him feel more like a bio parent. DBK tries to hold it together but starts crying when she can fit into his cupped palm with ease. Kuanyin cries and gives Wukong a hug when he holds her for the first time.]

The whole squad is crying.

The baby does a little series of chirps that Wukong swears sound like a piece of music he hummed to himself when alone. He can barely explain it until he just buries his face into his (!!!) baby's dark fluffy hair. She smells like new beginnings and Wukong has to constantly wipe his eyes to prevent his tears from wetting her little face.

Mac's crying cus he's finally coming to terms with why Wukong hurt him all those years ago + he's meeting his former mate's little cub who looks like him!! He makes a sound akin to a dying squeaky toy when he's asked how he thinks of little Yuebei.

DBK holds it together until he has Yuebei in his palm. Smaller than even Red Son was as a baby. DBK does one deep breath... and quickly has to pass the baby to PIF cus his eyes have turned into waterfalls. She's so small!!

Quanyin has cried many times in their life as a goddess... but holding Yuebei is the first time in a long time she makes a joyful snotty sob. The baby monkey is confused by the bodhisattva's reaction, and tries kissing her tears away. This only makes her honorary aunt/grandmother cry even harder with pride and joy.

Not to mention how hard MK cries when Wukong introduces him to Yuebei as "your honorary big brother". Mei has hundreds of timelapsed photos of MK as his face contorts into an ugly cry as he holds Yuebei for the first time.

[he is thanked for his blessing and also thanked for being to busy to read the specifics of Wukong's imprisonment, seeing as if he had Wukong wouldn't be holding the most precious little furball in the universe right now.]

When Gold Star arrives to deliver his blessing, he finally gets a good look at the baby and is like "Oh!!" His previous divine demeanor immediately drops like an old coat, cus this is the first Stone Monkey infant he's seen in thousands of years!! And she's so beautiful!! He reminds himself to say sorry to Wukong for not checking if the Buddha's punishment was Stone Monkey friendly. Wukong and Mac laugh him off cus the Gold Star of Venus is currently having his beard nearly yanked off by the playful newborn cub.

[it's hard not to laugh given the context, there ends up being a joke mad that every new Jade Emperor will have stone monkey lazer eyes shot at them when they try and sit on the throne for the first time. Wukong is insanely proud.]

Wukong most certainly is proud!! His little girl is already developing ways to defend herself! She's supposed to be kidnapped after all.

[Azure would likely try deluding himself into believing that he, Wukong, and Yuebei could be a perfect family once justice is brought to Heaven, or try to blackmail the MKrew. or both. you can imagine that won't go over with anyone too well.]

Azure: "What do you think little cub? Am I not a fine Emperor and guardian? Do you think your mother will warm to being at my side?" Yuebei, hungry, frustrated, and bored: *glares and makes a distinctly "Macaque"-sound as her ears glow* The Brotherhood: "..." Peng: "She must be hard to impress. As any princess ought to be." Azure: *feels a little better* :'3 Yellowtusk the Wise, internally: "I'm telling Guanyin. I am not going to be held responsible for what nonsense Azure gets up to regarding Wukong and the infant."

[Azure was so busy fantasizing he didn't notice Yuebei starting to get playful, and playful+super power do not mix. she starts tugging at him to play and the rest is history.] + [they will always be super proud ;)]

If Azure still had a tail, Yuebei would have taken it as a chew toy long before the MKrew (love that name) got there. And Wukong would have let her keep it as a trophy.

Hope you enjoy this slightly different version of the other ask! I hope I managed to get to some details I forgot/overlooked in the other one!

#slow boiled stone egg au #stone egg talk #lmk aus #lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk yuebei xing #yuebei xing #pregnancy tw #sun wukong #shadowpeach #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #long post

58 notes · View notes

rederiswrites · 6 months ago

Text

So ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and fibromyalgia are two syndromes (collections of symptoms often found together, with unknown causative mechanisms) with largely overlapping symptoms. They're currently classified as different diagnoses, but there are plenty of people who aren't convinced that they're actually different things. The biggest diagnostic difference seems to be whether the pain or the fatigue is the biggest problem.

I'm sure there are plenty of people who, like me, couldn't possibly say which of those is ruining my life more. I, like many, fulfill all the diagnostic criteria for both. I have the specific patterns of pain and inflammation characteristic of fibro, but I also have the postural orthostatic problems (Stand Up Feel Real Bad disorder) and extreme fatigue of ME/CFS. There's no test; diagnosis is an inherently subjective thing.

This is just gonna keep being about medical problems, so have a cut.

I also have problems that may be related or may be separate or may be part of the constellation of physical issues associated with ADHD, like loose tendons that lead to terrible core strength and janky joints. So while generally the pain spots for fibromyalgia are considered to have no actual material cause, I am pretty sure that my right hip and shoulder are in fact fucked up, and fibro is just making it experientially worse. I've also got a rib that spends more than half its time in just slightly the wrong goddamn place. I have multiple friends who have hypermobility problems that make mine look like a papercut, but combining them with fibro isn't a lot of fun.

A few months back, at my bestie's prompting and with his help, I started eating keto, which is essentially just restricting carbohydrates so harshly that they represent less than 20% (or less than 10%, this seems to be bioindividual) of your diet, at which point your body begins building energy transport molecules out of fat (ketones) instead of glucose. This has a history of treating several conditions (originally, seizures, but now also diabetes and inflammatory conditions), well before it became popular for weight loss.

It was an experiment. Believe me, I have mixed feelings about the fact that it worked. At first, it worked really, really well. I went from mostly bedbound to up and working full days outside. I've started to hit diminishing returns and having to nap more often, but it's still a radical improvement. I just forget how bad it was too fast. I hate how fast we forget how far we've come.

I haven't talking about it though, because I am so conflicted about restrictive diets as a thing. This started as an experiment, and as an experiment I could sell myself on no apples no potatoes no rice no crackers no no no no etc for a few weeks. After a few weeks I could decide whether it was worth it. And now here we are and it works.

But I've gone through So Much food restriction, starting when Phantom was two and we discovered that gluten fucks us both up. Then the Boy was sensitive to so many things as a baby that I cut out the entire Top Eight allergens (let's see, can I remember? Milk, eggs, peanuts, gluten, corn, soy, uhh....others...) for a year while he was nursing. Once you've cut wheat AND eggs AND corn out there is almost no commercial product you can eat and you have to prepare everything from scratch. With a toddler and a baby. I was literally starving. I used a calorie tracker for a while and found that I was nearly a thousand calories short per day, on average. I could barely think.

It's become a huge depression trigger for me. I tell people that my last major depressive episode was triggered by not being able to eat dairy, and I'm not kidding. I'm struggling with it now, too. Most of the time I'm good, but still, despite medication, I get very low and I just want to be able to fucking eat something tasty and comforting and EASY. I just want...cheese and crackers. A whole piece of fruit. A baked potato. Rice with my stir fry. But then I eat too much fucking watermelon and I can tell the difference in my wellbeing the next day.

Food becomes a minefield. Every meal becomes a struggle. You question every bite, every symptom. At least once a day the whole thing is just too annoying and I decide to just not eat, because fuck it. I dunno if it reaches eating disorder levels, but it's certainly maladaptive. I hate that I've gotten here because what you eat actually DOES matter. it's like the question of how you talk yourself out of anxiety when the world is objectively falling apart.

But I can do the things I love. I owe all this garden progress to not having had a glass of juice or a bowl of pasta in four months. Not to mention the abrupt cessation of all my dermatitis problems, frequent "silent" heartburn, a ton of digestive problems, migraines, most headaches, and more. "Nothing is worth risking depression" but is it though?

I'm holding on to the hope that these changes will allow me to heal. That I'll be able to make long-term progress, as many people say they have, and reintroduce restricted foods gradually. That I'll be able to cement the opportunity diet gave me with regular movement and conditioning and slowly claw my way up the spiral.

But on days when I feel like shit anyway, and I can't have some fucking chips about it....yeah. It's not great.

#medical

23 notes · View notes

v3nusxsky · 2 years ago

Note

I love your writing..🫶🏻 May I request a dom Reader/sub Larissa smut? I’m craving for it haha…sub Larissa just hits different tbh. Something like Larissa discovers this side of her the first time after Reader sort of “overpowers” her during a heated argument in her office and Larissa hates to admit but she likes it immensely..which eventually turns into a heated shameless smutty smut. The plot idea is just a suggestion so it’s totally up to you, so if you have a better idea that’s totally fine😇 Thank you!🫶🏻

Tempers like a flame 18+

*Authors note~ more sub Larissa content for y'all*

Trigger warnings~ sub l dom r reader is able to use magic and often prefers magically shifting their anatomy downstairs to a dick cockwarming edging mommy kink l daddy kink r

Prompt~ see ask^^

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Larissa had been teasing you all day, she knew just what to say and do to get your not so little friend to stand to attention. When you first told her you were able to change your body parts by magic and that you preferred to have male anatomy downstairs ever once in a while, you were terrified, after all Larissa Weems screamed lesbian. But turns out Larissa loved that special quality about you. Larissa soon mapped all all the ways she could tease you to her memory which meant a lot of painful predicaments for you when in public and at the other end of her teasing.

Today was no different, Larissa had been teasing you all damn day. Honestly, you were not even sure your dick could get any harder at this point, the bulge becoming hard to hide. You wanted your love on it and that's exactly what you'd get you just had to be creative about it. Picking a silly argument would get Larissa to your shared bedroom, your lover never one to back down especially if she thought she's right, that small fact would become extremely useful.

As soon as she entered her words began to spiral, you let her rant a little before shutting her up with your lips on hers, teeth and tongues clashing together in a desperate needy effort to claim one another as her hand slipped to your noticeable bulge. "Daddy, do you need me?" She teased messing the the fly of your trousers. "Oh mommy more than you know, you caused this and your gonna fix it. Now I have work to do so you're gonna come and sit on daddy's big thick cock, warm it up real good"you demanded tugging her over to the desk before freezing your member from its restraints. "O daddy your huge" she mewled at the slight allowing you. Her underwear disappeared and you silently thanked whatever gods made you a witch. Your spells and magic were incredibly useful.

Making quick work of getting your lover settled on your dick you couldn't help but let out a breathy moan of contentment, "feel so good mommy" you mewled as your love whimpered, your size stretching her out. "Be a good girl for daddy and maybe I'll let you come" you murmured before cracking on with work, a hand rubbing at her back in a soothing manner. For Larissa time had no meaning, it could've been minutes of hours she wasn't sure but she really needed to move, to feel you deeper in her needy cunt. Subtly she tried to rock her hips to get more only to be met with a harsh smack to her thigh, "don't be greedy whore! You've made daddy horny all day now fucking behave" you snapped before attending to your work ignoring your lovers whines in protest.

Only when you finished the work you had to do did you move to press kisses to her neck. "Did so good for me mommy, wanna reward my special subby girl" you murmured laughing at how her hips rutted forward at the last words. "Aw does mommy like being daddy's submissive slutty whore hmm?" You teased her delighting when she moaned happily, "please I don't wanna think, daddy please make me go all fuzzy I'll be good please please" her little whimpers was all it took for you to teleport yourselves to the bed. Again thank you magic is all you could say.

"Come on then whore, fuck yourself on my dick or can you not even do that anymore?" Was all the blonde needed to hear to begin to bounce on your cock. "Daddy fuck feel so good" she mewled and you knew it wouldn't take much to bring her to the edge. "Poor mommy needs to cum" you teased receiving nods and whimpers of pleasure. "Tough hold it" you bit delivering a span to her ass. "Daddy daddy can't please" she mewled cashing you to flip you both over so she was on her back. "Wanna cum then cum slut but I won't be stopping till I'm done filling you to the brim. Think about how pretty you'd look mommy, carrying daddy's babies like a good cumdump."

You continued to pound into the older woman while spewing all the things you wanted to do to her, making her cum over and over again, begging you to stop while begging for more. The poor woman wasn't sure what she wanted anymore but you didn't care, you were close and that was all you could think of. "Gonna cum, gonna breed my pretty whore, fuck take it baby, take daddy's cum deep inside your needy pussy" you panted as you felt spurt after spurt of sticky hot seed shoot up into her fluttering walls of her cunt. "Thank you daddy" she slurred as you slipped out of her. "You're welcome baby, daddy's gonna plug your pretty pussy so you don't waste any of daddy's treat" you murmured before magically producing the plug and carefully inserted into her gaping hole as your mixed cums dribbled out. "Did good Ris, get some sleep love" you murmured while you made your way back up to hold the spent woman to your chest. "I love you" you both whispered at the same time before laughing and drifting off to sleep together.

Word count~ 1031

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #larissa weems #larissa weems smut #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa x you #principal larissa weems x reader #principal weems #weems x reader #weems #weems smut #requested

209 notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 1 year ago

Text

When Night Comes - Eighteen

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Vampire!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: cursing, major character death(s) again, Alix is in this one so that's a whole warning in itself, angst, like a lot, enough that I want to give Bucky a big hug now.

Word count: 2.9k

Seventeen | masterlist

a/n: AND WE'RE DONE! When Night Comes is finished! I'm so thankful for all of the love and support as usual! I don't have anything lined up next so if anyone has any requests, send them my way! xoxo to all of my lovelies!

tag list: @cakesandtom @elizacusi-blog @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @buckybarnessimpp @vonalyn @thebuckybarnesvault

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Fear strikes into Y/N’s heart when she sees the people standing in the doorway.

Peggy, Alix, Thor, and Loki file into the room one after another while Luca and Ana Cristina grab ahold of her arms. Their grip prevents her from getting out and running however the thought barely crosses her mind. Y/N knew that even if she did manage to get out of their grasp, any one of the four traitors before her would catch her. Running for her life naked through the house while dripping water would not make for a successful escape so she stays put. Her anger replaces her fear and the boiling water feels like it has replaced the blood in her body. Whatever hate she felt for Alix increases tenfold with the help of the generational rage that has been stored in her body. She doesn’t even notice that she’s being held down anymore because she’s too focused on Alix, the creator of her nightmares and reason for her life of running. Y/N hadn’t seen this demon of a woman in five years but nothing has changed. She is still tall and lean, her long braids piled on top of her head give her a towering appearance. Her face is still somber and rigid from the years of bad deeds she’s done. She’s duller than before, thanks to the stress of trying to find Y/N but her eyes are what catches Y/N off guard.

They’re gold.

A yellow gold unlike before.

The same yellow gold that a Lycan’s eyes become when they turn.

Against her dull and lifeless face, the contrast is horrifying and gives her an inhumane like mien. That alone is enough to make Y/N break eye contact but she refuses. Even the simple act of breaking eye contact will feel like an act of submission to Alix and that is something that Y/N can not give to her.

“There’s my baby girl,” Alix mocks her as she circles the tub like a predator stalking its prey.

“What are you doing here?” she asks Alix.

“Use your brain. What do YOU think I’m doing here?”

Y/N doesn’t answer right away.

“Cat got your tongue? I’ll just tell you,” Alix says as she keeps circling Y/N, “Your little witch friends agreed to help me kill Bucky in exchange for you.”

“What do you mean in exchange for me?”

“They get to keep you since apparently you’re some important doppelgänger. I quit listening after a while.” “I thought you wanted me for yourself.”

Alix shrugs, “I did but then I found you that caught feelings for that Strigoi bastard so now I could care less what happens to you.”

Y/N chooses not to answer and when Alix is behind her again, she turns her angry eyes to Peggy who is not shy in her joy. A smirk is painted across her face and it sends a dagger right into Y/N’s heart.

Y/N leans forward enough to make sure that Peggy knows that she is the object of her words and spits out, “How could you? After everything that Bucky has done for you, for Steve, for your son. How could you betray him like this?” Peggy’s smirk falters at the mention of her son, “That man has done nothing but cause my family pain. He’s made Steve his servant, murdered my best friend, and put my son in harm’s way too many times to count.”

“You are to blame for my murder.”

A gust of wind causes the candle’s flames to flicker and a pressure fills the room, making it feel tight and cramped.

“You were the one who was supposed to protect me and you didn’t,” Y/N says but there’s a hollow look in her eye, “You were supposed to go with me that day but you were too busy sleeping with Dorian Wright to come and that’s why I’m dead. If you had just left Steve like you told Dorian you would then I would still be alive.”

Ana Cristina and Luca glance at each other but neither make a move. The gust of wind had been anything but normal and the two witches fear for the outcome.

“They were after you that day, not me but you know that.”

Peggy’s eyes open wide in fear and she stumbles backward but Y/N doesn’t stop, “You used the fact that the Wright gang had tried to kill me in the past as an explanation for my death as a way to cover up your affair. You used the curse that my husband sold his soul for to cover up your affair and now you’re trying to fix your mistake via the worst plan I have ever seen. How exactly does siding with the great granddaughter of your paramour and my murderer achieve what you want?.”

Peggy goes to defend herself but Y/N will not have it and interrupts her, “How does this plan make any sense, Margaret? It most certainly won’t free you from your guilt nor will it end well for you. If it’s freedom that you’re after, THIS will end with you running for the rest of your miserable life and facing that eternity completely alone. Steve will not forgive you, your son will not remember you, Bucky will not rest until you have paid for your betrayal, and I will let you forget what you did.”

Y/N slumps forward, breathing raggedly like she had run for miles and silent tears stream down Peggy’s face. Alix, Thor, and Loki to each other for answers but none can produce one.

“What the fuck was that?” Alix demands Ana Cristina and Luca.

The two bring Y/N to rest against the back of the tub and exchange silent words through glances. Ana Cristina provides an answer, “It appears that Celeste used Y/N as a mouthpiece.”

“Ghosts can do that?”

“Celeste is not a ghost, she is a spirit and yes when a witch with enough power dies, they can sometimes use that power to communicate with the living or,” she looks to Peggy, “to those who are neither living nor dead.”

“Is she going to do it again?”

Ana Cristina dips her head to look at Y/N’s face, “no. Y/N is not strong enough for that. Celeste won’t risk killing her doppelgänger and angering her coven even more to get revenge on Peggy.”

“Can we hurry along with the spell? I don’t want to give her a chance to try,” Peggy mumbles as she wipes away at the tears and straightens her back.

Ana Cristina and Luca nod before gesturing to the other two men to come forward. Thor and Loki take their place next to the tub but Y/N grips onto the cook’s arm.

“Please don’t do this. Please…” Y/N begs her, “Please, don’t let them hurt me.”

Ana Cristina puts her hand on top of Y/N’s, “It won’t kill you, I promise.”

With that she tears Y/N’s hand away and allows Loki to take her place. All trust that Y/N had placed in her or Luca shatters and spills out of her eyes as tears race down her face. She begins to sob and thrash against the men’s grip, pleading with them to let her go and to not hurt her. Ana Cristina tells Alix to join her at the table and starts to go over her portion of the spell.

Peggy stays pressed against the wall, still reeling over what Celestse had said to her. Any and all emotions are racing through her as she tries to process it all but one thought sticks out; if Celeste could use Y/N to say all of that, what else could she do?

The answer of what else can Celeste do comes in the form of a vision to Bucky. On their way back from dropping Natasha and Wyatt off in town, Bucky lets out a howl of agony and Steve slams on the breaks of the car.

“What was that for?” he asks as he starts to drive again, “Are you okay?”

Bucky takes deep breaths to manage the head splitting pain, “There’s something wrong.”

“I gathered that.”

“No there’s something wrong with Y/N. I think….I think Alix is at the estate.”

Just as Steve goes to speak, he sees Yelena usher a wounded Juliette into her car.

“You’re right. Something is very wrong.”

Bucky nods as he grimaces and looks up to see the same thing. Steve is already calling Yelena and has confirmation of the worst.

“Yelena said that Alix is at the estate but Y/N is safe because Ana Cristina and Luca are there,” he tells Bucky.

“That means absolutely nothing to me because we’re not there. What I want to know is why the fuck Yelena knows that.”

“She said it was a long story but that we need to get back as soon as we can.”

“Bull fucking shit it’s a long story,” Bucky sneers and rips Steve’s phone from his hands, redialing Yelena’s number, “What the fuck is going on and why do you have Juliette with you?”

“Let go of me,” Y/N howls at Loki and Thor as she uses any strength she has left to rip herself away from them, “Let fucking go of me!” “Take her out and sit her in front of me,” Ana Cristina tells the two men who do as she says.

The entire time they are lifting her, Y/N is kicking and fighting them until she manages to kick Thor in the chest. Having the wind knocked out of him, he drops her and Loki does the same in efforts to check on his brother. She makes a run for it and makes it to the stairs but Alix is quicker and looms above her, blocking any chance to get past her.

“Silly girl,” she mocks her once again as she grips her tight enough by the arm to leave bruises. Y/N tries her hand at fighting again and when Alix turns to chide her, she spits in her face. Alix freezes and slowly takes a deep breath. The hand leaves her arm and threads into her hair as Alix yanks her down the hall by it.

“I forgot how fucking stupid you are when you’re mad,” she mumbles as she drags Y/N back to the group.

“Be a good girl for once and stop fighting,” she snaps before throwing Y/N to the ground at Ana Cristina’s feet. Thor and Loki stare at her in disgust while Peggy refuses to acknowledge her. Luca doesn’t meet her stare and keeps his head bowed as Ana Cristina bends down to Y/N’s level.

In her hand she has a bowl with a red paste in it and she dips her fingers in it to draw on Y/N’s skin. She’s singing under her breath as she starts the process of tying their lives to each other but doesn’t speak to the doppelgänger otherwise, treating her as though she is just the doppelgänger and not someone who’s come to care for.

“Please,” Y/N whispers to her as she shivers and tries to hide herself from everyone around her, “Please don’t do this.”

Ana Cristina makes eye contact for a moment but breaks it and continues to sing while adorning her with paste markings. Luca hands her various other things needed for the spell; herbs, jewelry, and other pastes. They are finally complete in their decorating when a metal headdress that is dripping with chains, jewels, and coins is placed on Y/N’s head. Her naked body is covered in runes similar to those that Bucky wears and she smells of the earth thanks to the burned bundles of herbs.

Luca helps her to her feet albeit both reluctantly and he squeezes her hands. She glares at him and pulls her hands away, hoping that the cold shoulder will hurt him as his betrayal has hurt her. Ana Cristina steps in front of her, takes Y/N’s hand, and begins to sing even louder with Luca joining in. A similar gust of wind to before causes the candle flames to flicker and the brothers join in on the singing. The candles got completely out and Y/N let out a loud gasp.

The candles burst back to life and the runes on her body are glowing a bright red as another voice uses her body to sing along. Alix shifts uncomfortably next to Peggy as the voice grows louder and louder until it stops.

The witches collapse onto the ground, leaving Y/N to stand on her own as the glowing runes start to dim. She opens her eyes which are a flaming red and fixes them on the two women before her. The voice from before speaks to them.

“Alix Wright,” it says as Y/N walks towards them, stepping over the bodies around, “Your family is disappointed in you. All that you have done in the Wright name has been for your own gain. You have forsaken your sacred oath to serve and protect Lycan. You’ve chosen a human over your siblings and now those who you brought with you are dead. Their blood is on your hands, how do you plead?”

Alix looks wildly between Peggy and Y/N, fear fresh in her yellow eyes.

“You’ve sanctioned the murder of your siblings and now you must be held accountable, how do you plead?” the voice asks again.

“How am I supposed to have been killed?” Alix asks, anger replacing her fear as she tries to square up to her.

Y/N rolls her flaming eyes and utters Alix’s death sentence, “You are guilty. Lumină pe foc.”

Fire spills from Y/N’s body and races across the ground towards Alix, licking up and consuming her whole. Peggys lets out a scream and jumps away from a burning Alix. She tries to run towards the stairs but Bucky, Steve, Yelena, and Juliette block her way. Bucky grabs her by the throat and throws her against the wall next to them.

“What the fuck did you do?” he growls at her as the others flock to those who are still laying on the floor.

“She attempted to usurp your position and cover up her betrayal by taking the side of your enemy,” Y/N answers for her.

Bucky turns to look at her and meets her stare with shock. He recognizes the voice of Celeste but the woman standing there does not look like her nor Y/N. Covered in ritualistic runes and jewelry, she reminds him more of the witches that his father warned him of and the waves of childhood fright he instilled into him come crashing back.

“She is guilty of treachery, murder, and infidelity. How do you plead, Margaret Carter Rogers?”

With Ana Cristina in his arms, Steve yells, “Not guilty! She’s not guilty.”

Peggy takes her chance and breaks Bucky’s arm before sprinting to her husband’s side. Bucky lets out a howl of rage and pain as he resets his arm.

Steve looks to his wife and pleads with her to say she’s not guilty but she just offers him a sad look and kisses his forehead.

“I plead guilty.”

Y/N smiles, “So be it. Binecuvântează-ți trupul, Strogori.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Y/N goes rigid and collapses on the ground while Peggy begins to choke. Bucky rushes to Y/N, cradling her burning up body in his arms and whispering words of reassurance to her. Steve, on the other hand, goes to do the same to his wife but hisses in pain when he touches her. Peggy wails and sobs in pain as her skin begins to sizzle and crosses appear in the places where her skin is unmarred. He looks to Y/N in horror and back to his wife.

“What did she do? Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!” he shouts and his despair awakes Ana Cristina.

She groans and shifts in Steve’s lap which draws his attention back to her. He begs her to help Peggy but she explains that she can’t. There is no way to stop the blessing process once it’s started. His horror grows even more as Peggy’s cries grow quiet until there is nothing.

Thor and Loki slowly sit up as Ana Cristina drags Luca closer to her. Bucky is holding Y/N against himself while Yelena and Juliette stay huddled by the doorway. Peggy’s and Alix’s bodies lay motionless as Steve stares distantly at them.

All is still and peaceful in the room. The only sounds that can be heard are the shallow breaths of those awaking and Bucky’s whispers.

“I love you, Y/N. I have always loved you and I always will. Te iubesc, T/N. Te-am iubit mereu și o voi face mereu. Mereu și întotdeauna.”

Mereu și întotdeauna.

Always and forever.

Always and forever means endless nights and long days for people like Y/N and Bucky. It’s a promise of love everywhere and in everything. As her breathing remains shallow and his whispers become a song, their new love does not fade but grows for it’s the only thing it can do. It’s fitting isn’t it?

His lost love coming back to him years later only for her to then suffer at his hands the same way she had before. The cycle will continue.

Always and forever

as it means in

this life

the next.

99 notes · View notes