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ctrlsht · 2 days ago

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Beneath His Love | Jungkook Two-Shot AU (Part 2)

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: dark romance, psychological thriller, soft yandere

summary: Jeon Jungkook was once just a foreign high school friend until he disappeared without a word after graduation. Years later, he came back, not just to reconnect, but to claim a place in your life as your lover. To everyone else, your relationship is something out of a fairytale, the kind others envy. And for a while, you believed it too until the mask he wore began to slip, revealing a side of him you never saw coming.

warnings: emotional and psychological manipulation, control and possessiveness, obsession, anxiety and mild distress, isolation and coercion, themes of entrapment, smut wc: 20k

parts: (1) | (2)

Your friends haven't noticed yet because they're facing the other way.

“Y/N,” he calls, his voice cutting through the night.

Your friends turn.

“You weren’t answering your phone again.” His tone is eerily neutral. “We have to go home. Now.”

You step forward instinctively, but Mina blocks you.

“No,” she says firmly. “She’s not going with you.”

Jungkook’s gaze flicks to her, his brow arching, lips pressing into a tight line. He stares at her for a long moment before turning back to you.

“Y/N?”

Henry, oblivious to the growing tension, chimes in. “Man, Y/N might stay the night. Chloe booked a room for us since she’s leaving Monday.”

But you wish he hadn’t said that.

Jungkook shifts his gaze to Henry, his jaw tightening. He doesn’t say anything right away, just studies him.

“Henry, right?” Jungkook’s voice is smooth as he twitch is lips. “I haven’t formally met you. I only ever see you when I’m picking Y/N up.” He tilts his head slightly, eyes locked onto him. “How have you been? Last time I heard a news from you is when you were smuggling cocaine into campus during high school.”

Your stomach drops.

Henry’s eyes widen. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh,” Jungkook smirks. “They didn’t know? How is that possible, considering they’re your friends?”

“Jungkook, let’s go.” You reach for him, desperate to diffuse whatever the hell this is.

But Mina steps in again, eyes burning.

“Y/N, you’re staying,” she says. “We already talked about this.”

You ignore Mina and head straight for Jungkook, needing to escape the tension pressing down on you. The longer you stay, the harder it gets to breathe.

Your friends react. Voices overlapping behind you but you don’t look back. Your focus is locked on Jungkook, searching his face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking.

Without hesitation, you reach for his hand, ready to pull him away with you. But before you can, his grip tightens, stopping you in your tracks.

You glance up, and that’s when you see it. He’s smiling.

“It’s okay, love,” he says smoothly, pulling you closer, his eyes flickering toward your friends. “You can stay the night.”

Your stomach twists. “No, we can go now—”

“You can stay,” he repeats, his voice calm, too calm. “It’s Chloe’s last night. I get it now. Go ahead, have fun. I’ll wait for you at home tomorrow.”

“But—”

You hesitate, trying to explain, to tell him there’s no need, that you’ll just leave with him. But before you can get the words out, he cuts you off.

“You will stay.” He said firmly. The smile doesn’t waver, but you know better. You know he doesn’t like this.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. Before you can say anything else, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Your friends didn’t like what happened. They didn’t like how the situation turned out. But if they thought they were the only ones pissed about it, they were dead wrong. Because out of everyone who hated what just happened, no one despised it more than you.

Shame burned through you. The way you broke down in front of them, the way Jungkook showed up and, without a second thought, you fell right into line. How easily you let him take control. And worst of all, you ruined Chloe’s night.

Pathetic.

You fucking hated every second of it, and the last thing you wanted was to face them now. If the earth could open up and swallow you whole, you’d gladly let it.

But they didn’t let you go.

They didn’t let you walk away, didn’t let you brush this off and deal with it alone. Were they disappointed? Yeah. But they didn’t leave. They stayed.

And as much as you wanted to leave because of Jungkook, because you knew he wouldn’t like this, you realized something else. Maybe it was a good thing he “let” you stay. Because you needed this. More than you even knew.

You’d been so wrapped up in him, so caught in the push and pull of his world, that you forgot what it felt like to just be with your friends. The people who had always been there, long before he ever stepped into the picture.

It hit you then, how much of yourself you’d been losing. How, somewhere along the way, your world had started revolving around him.

But tonight, even just for a little while, you were free.

The party was still on-going, but your friends were done. Without much debate, they decided to head back to the hotel Chloe had booked. You felt bad and offered to stay, but they weren’t having it. They just wanted to get out of there and honestly, so did you.

You already knew what was coming once you got to the hotel. This wasn’t just about tonight. They wanted to know everything. About Jungkook, about the way your life had changed since you started dating him.

And the moment you started talking, it all clicked.

You knew he was controlling. Deep down, you always knew. But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t that bad. That it was just love. Just care. But standing here, hearing your own words spill out, you realized how much of yourself you’d let slip through his fingers.

Every choice, big or small, it had all been him. And you? You just went along with it.

Chloe, sitting cross-legged on the bed, hugs a pillow to her chest. Her voice is gentle, but there’s frustration laced in it.

“We get that you love him,” she says, watching you carefully. “But you know you’re being manipulated. So why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

“Because she’s blinded by love, Chloe. That explains everything,” Mina says, taking a swig of the beer they snuck out from the club.

“It’s not just that.” Henry leans forward, grabbing a bottle from the table. “She’s not just ignoring the red flags, she’s doing whatever he wants because she doesn’t want to start a fight. It’s easier to just go along with it than deal with the fallout. It’s not always because she’s blinded by love, but she’s being manipulated.”

Mina shoots him a look. “Wow, you talk like you weren’t smuggling cocaine in high school.”

Henry groans, flipping her off. “For the last time, I was broke, okay? I needed cash, and it was a quick way to make money.”

Mina snorts. “Yeah, yeah. I just can’t believe you were out there selling coke to Jungkook of all people.”

You lean back against the bed, half-listening to them bicker, half-lost in thought. It’s been a while since you’ve hung out like this, probably since before Jungkook.

It’s crazy how much your life has changed since him. The good, the bad… and everything in between.

Chloe, who’s been quiet, finally speaks up. “Babe,” she says gently, turning to you. “I get that you love him. But if being with him is messing with your head, that’s not love. That’s control. And if you keep letting it slide, it’s only gonna get worse.”

She holds your gaze, voice softer now. “Love is supposed to make you happy. Not suffocate you.”

Now that you’re actually aware of what’s going on between you and Jungkook, you have no clue how to deal with it. Do you bring it up? Do you let it slide? Do you even want to address it at all?

Your friends make it sound so simple. Just talk to him, stand your ground, don’t let him control you. Or worse, break up with him. But the moment you even consider doing any of that, your mind shuts down. The thought alone makes you want to retreat. What if it makes things worse? What if he gets distant? What if you regret it?

You’re not the type to challenge Jungkook, not when you know how he reacts. He never outright shuts you down, but his silence, his coldness. It’s enough to make you second-guess yourself. So, most of the time, you just let things slide. It’s easier that way.

Still, a part of you was waiting for him to call or text last night. He didn’t. And now, you’re torn between reaching out first or pretending like it doesn’t bother you. Either way, the weight in your chest hasn’t lifted.

And now, it’s morning. Time to face him. And if you’re being honest, you’re nowhere near ready.

But there’s no avoiding it. No matter how much time you’ve had to think about what to say or how to say it, you’ll never be fully prepared.

Your friends dropped you off at your own apartment, unaware that you had no intention of staying. You didn’t want them to know you were going back to Jungkook. Maybe because you didn’t want to hear their protests. Or maybe because, deep down, you weren’t ready to admit to them or yourself that you still couldn’t walk away.

Stepping inside, you’re greeted by the same apartment, the same furniture, the same neatly arranged belongings. But it doesn’t feel like home anymore. It hasn’t been for a while.

It’s past nine in the morning. You don’t know what time Jungkook expects you back, but you do know he expected you to leave with him last night. That’s enough to make your stomach twist.

You sink into the couch, staring at nothing, lost in the spiral of your own thoughts. Flashes of last night replay in your mind. The way your friends looked at you, their words, their concern. And then, memories of Jungkook resurface the good ones, the ones that make it so damn hard to leave.

The idea of walking away terrifies you.

You love him. More than you probably should. More than what might be good for you. And even if this isn’t sustainable, even if a part of you knows something has to change… you’re not ready.

Not yet.

You lost track of time until his message popped up:

‘I cooked lunch.’

That’s it. No questions, no extra words. Just a statement.

As you walk through the lobby of his apartment building, your pulse quickens, your hands trembling slightly at your sides. You tell yourself to calm down, but the closer you get, the harder it is to breathe. You wish you could put this off a little longer, but you can’t.

Your fingers shake as you punch in his door code. You hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

And then, without thinking, you step inside.

The apartment is filled with natural light, curtains drawn open to welcome the crisp autumn air. It’s colder now, the season shifting.

He’s at his desk in the living room, focused on his laptop. The moment he notices you, his face lights up. He gets up instantly, closing the distance between you in a few strides, wrapping you in a warm hug, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“You’re finally home. You should eat. I made beer-battered fish.”

His voice is light, casual, like nothing happened last night.

You hesitate for a second before answering. "Okay."

It comes out flat, almost lifeless.

You walk toward the dining table, already set with plates and food, and sit down. You expect him to follow, to sit across from you like usual.

But he doesn’t.

And somehow, that makes you even more nervous.

You’re not hungry. Even if you were, you wouldn’t have the appetite for this. But you force yourself to finish the food he made anyway, each bite sitting heavy in your stomach. It’s not the taste, it’s the way your nerves are twisting into knots, making you feel like you might be sick.

He doesn’t come in while you eat. The silence in the apartment is suffocating, pressing in on you like a weight you can’t shake off.

When you’re done, you get up and head toward the bedroom to change, passing through the living room where he still sits. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a word, like you’re not even there.

It’s driving you insane.

A while ago, he seemed fine. Now, he feels like a ticking bomb.

You’d rather he just say something, anything than sit there like this. You know his cold treatment too well; it’s his way of controlling the situation, making you come to him first. But this time, something about it feels different.

You don’t know how. You just know it does.

You’ve already showered, organized your closet, done everything you could think of to keep yourself busy. And yet, the apartment feels empty. Or rather, he feels absent.

Maybe he’s just busy.

But you know better.

Steeling yourself, you step out of the bedroom and head toward the dining area. You don’t even make it halfway before you hear it, his scoff, sharp and pointed.

“So you’re really gonna act like nothing happened, huh?”

There it is.

You turn to see him standing up from his chair, arms crossed, leaning casually against the kitchen’s pass-through window. His expression is unreadable, but his tone drips with sarcasm.

“You’re not even gonna explain last night?” His lips twitch as he watches you, waiting.

You hesitate, then exhale. “Nothing happened. They just wanted me to stay. That’s it.”

You keep it short, simple. The less you say, the better. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

But even now, you can’t believe how hard you’re trying to avoid this.

Jungkook shifts, hands slipping into his pockets as he steps toward you. His face is neutral, unreadable, but his presence alone makes your pulse spike.

When he’s finally in front of you, he leans in just enough, his gaze locked onto yours, dark and unwavering.

Then, in a low whisper, he says—

“Why do you make me feel so stupid?”

“No, I’m not!” you snap, voice shaking with frustration. “That’s really what happened! They found out I wasn’t staying the night because you didn’t let me.” You take a step back, putting distance between you.

His brow arches, his expression unreadable. “So you’re blaming me now?”

“It’s not like that,” you grit out. “I told you I’d come home with you, right? But instead, you made me stay.” Your patience is wearing thin, your hands balling into fists at your sides.

Jungkook scoffs, his jaw tightening. “Because that’s what you wanted to happen.” His voice drop dangerously low. “You didn’t even pick up your fucking phone. You didn’t give a damn that I was losing my mind, calling you hundreds of times, wondering if something happened to you.”

Your breath catches. He’s right. You didn’t answer. You couldn’t because your phone was buried somewhere in your bag. But that doesn’t mean you wanted to ignore him.

Jungkook shakes his head, his gaze piercing through you. “You love doing this, don’t you? Running off, not answering your fucking phone, making me go insane thinking something happened to you.” His voice is like fire, burning through the tension between you.

A sharp pang of guilt twists in your chest. You can’t deny he’s right, but it’s not like you did it on purpose. It was an honest mistake.

“I’m sorry, okay?” you say, exhaling shakily. “I didn’t mean to leave my phone behind. They just—” you pause, searching for the right words, “they cornered me, forced me to stay because they were upset that I kept ditching them.” Your voice softens, hoping to ease the tension. “Of course, I wanted to stay. It��s Chloe’s last night before she leaves.”

But Jungkook doesn’t ease up. If anything, he looks even more pissed. His eyes darken, his lips curling into something bitter.

“Oh, right,” he drawls. “Why don’t you just do what you did before? Go out with them without telling me.”

The accusation hits you like a slap. You blink, momentarily stunned.

He catches it immediately, his smirk sharpening. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, Y/N,” he says, voice low and edged with something dangerous. “We both know you do.”

He’s right but it was one time. Just once. And you never did it again.

“And did I ever confront you after you did that?” His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it. “I didn’t. And now you wanna question why I don’t like you hanging out with them so much?” He lets out a cold laugh, shaking his head. “Because I know you’d pick them over me.”

“What are you saying? That’s not true!” You shake your head, frustration bubbling up as you take a step closer, reaching for him.

But before you can even touch his arm, he moves away. Fast and deliberate.

"You all act like I’m the fucking villain just because I care about you," he spits, his voice shaking with frustration. "But you never question them, do you? You never doubt your precious friends. Henry did illegal shit before, and you didn’t even fucking flinch. I just don’t get it… Why is it so easy for you to doubt me, but you’d defend them in a heartbeat?"

A lump forms in your throat as you watch the single tear slide down his face. Your body instinctively moves, but something inside you hesitates.

And with that, you see yourself all over him.

"Love, stop—please.” Your hands tremble as they reach for him, but he turns away. “I… I don’t want you to feel that way. I never meant to make you think that.” Your voice breaks, a lump forming in your throat. “You have to believe me.”

You try to reach him hoping he won’t flinch. Your hands find his face, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw as you gently wipe away the tears, your voice softening. “I don’t think you’re wrong. I don’t blame you. Please don’t believe that.”

He stays silent, letting you wipe his tears, his breathing uneven, his jaw tense. His eyes stay downcast, refusing to meet yours. But when he finally looks up, something in them is cold and distant.

His hands come up, gently wrapping around yours as they rest on his cheeks, but instead of leaning into your touch, he slowly peels them away. His warmth disappears as he steps back, putting space between you.

"I think… it’s better if we take a break," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it cuts through the thick air between you.

He holds your gaze for a moment, just long enough for your stomach to sink, for your chest to tighten before he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, frozen, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin.

You stand there, frozen, the weight of the last five minutes pressing down on you like a tidal wave. It happened too fast, so fast that even now, as the seconds drag on, your mind refuses to catch up.

Where did you go wrong?

All you ever wanted was to be happy, but it feels like happiness always comes at a price. Like the universe waits for you to smile just so it can rip something away. What did you do to deserve this?

Is this love? A love that confines you, that forces you to choose?

Love is supposed to set you free, isn’t it? But instead, you’re trapped, forced to pick between him and your friends, even when you should be able to have both.

He left. No call, no message, no sign of where he is or if he even cares that you’re falling apart.

That day, you cried harder than you ever had before. You wanted it to stop the exhaustion, the ache in your chest, the way your tears wouldn’t stop spilling no matter how much you told yourself to breathe.

Are you really the one at fault? Or are you just trying to convince yourself you are?

Because when you think back, when you trace every argument, every moment that led you here, the path always leads back to you.

Maybe if you had just done what you were supposed to as his girlfriend, this wouldn’t have happened.

Maybe he was only trying to protect you, and you mistook it for control.

Maybe... maybe this is all your fault.

You waited for him that night, but the door never opened.

Alone in his cold, empty apartment, you curled up in bed, the silence pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t shake. The room felt lifeless without him, just shadows and stale air, a place that wasn’t home without his presence.

When you couldn’t take it anymore, you reached for your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed his number. The ringing felt endless, each unanswered call chipping away at the hope you were holding onto. Message after message went unread, each one met with nothing but silence.

With every call he ignored, your chest grew heavier. With every text he didn’t even bother to open, your tears only fell harder.

Is this what he felt when you didn’t pick up those nights? When your phone sat forgotten in your bag while you laughed with your family and friends, unaware that he was here, alone, drowning in the same silence that’s now swallowing you whole?

The thought broke you.

You sobbed into the pillow, exhaustion creeping in, but no matter how drained you felt, the tears wouldn’t stop.

‘Love, I’m really sorry. I promise to understand you better. Please come back.’

That was the last message you sent before sleep finally took over as your phone slipping from your grasp.

A soft touch brushes your cheek, warm and featherlight. It pulls you from your sleep, but the pounding in your head makes you wish you could slip right back under. Your eyelids feel like they weigh a ton, but when you force them open, the first thing you see is a blurred figure sitting beside you.

Jungkook.

Even though you feel awful, the second you recognize him, you push yourself up, ignoring the ache in your body.

“Kook.” Your voice cracks as tears spill down your cheeks. Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms, gripping him tightly. “Where have you been? I’m so sorry.” The words tumble out between sobs, raw and desperate.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he gently pulls away, his expression unreadable as he wipes the tears from your face. His touch is slow, deliberate, his eyes locked onto yours.

You reach up, pressing his hands against your cheeks, needing to feel him, to make sure he’s really here. You have a lot to say, but nothing comes out. His presence alone is overwhelming, so instead, you lean into him again, wrapping your arms around him, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth of his body.

“Did I worry you that much?” His voice is soft, almost teasing, as he pats your back.

You nod, burying your face into his shoulder. “I’m really sorry.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes before leaning in, his lips brushing over yours in a soft, kiss. His kiss is soft at first, teasing, but the second you open up for him, his grip tightens, one hand cupping your face while the other slides down your back, pressing you flush against him. He groans into your mouth, deep and needy.

You could feel the heat radiating off of him and he pressed you back against the bed, his body pinning you in place. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you couldn't help but arch your head back, giving him even more access to your neck. You let out a small gasp as he began kissing and biting at your collarbone as his mouth continue to explore your body with his mouth.

His hand slides lower, fingertips grazing the waistband of your shorts, playing with the fabric but not moving further. His lips ghost over yours, teasing, as he watches the way your chest rises and falls beneath him.

Before things could go any further, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. You both stayed like that for a moment, caught in the stillness, before you gently guided his body to lie next to you. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. He let out a soft chuckle, but you weren’t focused on that. Instead, you rested your head on his chest, your fingers finding his, intertwining them tightly as you settled into the comfort of his presence.

And just like that, everything is back to normal. At least on the surface.

You apologized over and over, making sure he knew you never meant to hurt him. You reassured him that he was right, that everything he did was only for your sake. You didn’t push back, and didn’t ask questions. Instead, you accepted the blame like it was yours to carry.

He never said sorry. Not even once. Not even for leaving you alone the entire night.

But you let it slide because, in the end, it was your fault… wasn’t it?

After that, you chose your words carefully, avoiding anything that might set him off again. You never wanted to feel that kind of loneliness again, the kind that settles deep in your bones, creeping through the empty, dark space he left behind.

You had already made him feel that way before. Twice, actually. So who were you to complain?

Yeah, it’s all on me.

You tell yourself that, over and over, until it almost feels true. But somewhere in the back of your mind, a small voice whispers. Is it, though?

Why is it always you taking the blame?

Why does it feel like your feelings don’t matter?

Why is it always you bending, apologizing, making things right?

But before those thoughts can settle, you push them away. It’s easier that way. Easier than starting another fight.

You've come to realize that in this relationship, it's always you who has to bend. And maybe that's fair. After all, every problem you've had somehow traces back to you, doesn’t it?

And just like that, everything is back to normal. Just the way you wanted. You've pushed aside all the doubts, all the nagging thoughts, and focused on the present. You're okay again. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

The next day, you spend the entire day at his place, filing another leave of absence. You would have gone to work, but with his influence in the company, you didn't really have a choice. He wanted you to stay with him, so he made sure of it, calling in on your behalf. It should bother you. It does bother you. But you let it slide. Another argument isn’t worth it.

“Love, I’ve been thinking,” his voice is low, and smooth, as he moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The warmth of his body presses against yours as he pulls you closer. “We haven’t gone on vacation in a while.” His hold tightens slightly as he nuzzles into your neck, his lips nibbling your skin just enough to make you shiver.

You keep your focus on the pan in front of you, stirring the glossy red sauce of the spicy gochujang dish he once taught you to make.

“And where do you want to go?” you ask, keeping your voice light, as if this is just another conversation.

“I want to take you to my hometown.” His voice is smooth, as his chin settles on your shoulder. His arms stay firmly wrapped around your waist. “You’ve always wanted to see where I grew up, right?” His breath tickles your skin.

“Lately, things have been… overwhelming,” he continues, his voice softer now. “I think we could use a break. Just the two of us. What do you think?” He tilts his head slightly, eyes watching you closely, waiting.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes, of course. I’d love that.” The words leave your lips before you even process them.

He grins, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “That’s perfect! We’ll leave this Wednesday. Tomorrow, let’s wrap up a few things before we go.” His tone is light and excited.

You froze.

Wednesday?

You glance at him over your shoulder.

“This Wednesday?” You ask as if you misheard.

He nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah.” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Something in his voice shifts ever so slightly as he studies your face. “Why?” He tilts his head, and though his lips curl into a small smile, there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. “You don’t want to go?”

The way he says it, it’s not a question. Not really. It’s a warning. A test.

And you already know the right answer.

“N-no… Of course, I like it. But isn’t this a little… sudden?” You try to sound reasonable, careful not to make it seem like you’re pushing back. “Korea is on the other side of the world, love.”

Jungkook tilts his head, watching you with an unreadable expression before raising a brow. “I don’t see the problem.” His voice is calm and dismissive.

You take a breath. “I have work.”

At that, he smirks, like you just said the funniest thing. “And?” His fingers lazily trace patterns on your arm, his touch light but distracting. “You can file a vacation leave, right? Or…” He pauses, his eyes locking onto yours. “If you still want to work, we can set up a work-from-home arrangement.” He says it so easily.

His thumb touches your wrist. “You don’t have to worry, love. Even if you resigned tomorrow, you’d still be fine. You have me.” He smiles, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. “I can give you anything you need. Anything you want.”

Your chest tightens, and yet, the words slip from your lips before you can stop them. “Okay.” Because what else are you supposed to say?

“How long are we staying?” You ask, hoping for a solid timeframe, something to hold onto.

Jungkook shrugs, lips curling into a small smile. “I don’t know yet.” His voice is light, almost playful. “But don’t worry, we’ll stay as long as you want.”

Something in your gut tells you the choice isn’t really yours to make.

You’re not expecting anything extraordinary from this trip with Jungkook. To you, it’s just a regular vacation. Your first one together, sure, and your first time traveling so far, but still, just a trip. Something to look forward to, a break from everything.

You tell yourself it’s just that. A getaway.

But what you don’t know is that Jungkook has plans of his own. Plans you wish you had seen coming. Plans that won’t just shift your view of him but will change your life in ways you never imagined.

If only you had realized it sooner, before it slipped beyond your control.

—

Jungkook loves you to the point of obsession. To the point where the thought of losing you tears at him like an ache that never fades. He already has you, but it’s not enough. Not yet. Because if he doesn’t hold on tight, you might slip away.

He tells himself he’s only taking care of you, keeping you safe the way no one else can. But care isn’t enough. He needs all of you. Your body, your mind, and your heart trapped so deeply in him that escape isn’t an option.

You’re fast asleep beside him, your head tilted slightly toward him as the plane hums steadily through the air. Jungkook glances at you, his fingers instinctively adjusting your blanket before brushing away a few stray strands of hair from your face.

His chest tightens just looking at you. His heart beating a little too fast, a little too hard. His fingertips trace the curve of your cheek, lingering for a moment, memorizing the warmth of your skin.

He loves you, so much that it gets under his skin. The thought of you slipping away, of someone else touching you, laughing with you, knowing you the way he does, it makes his blood run hot. It’s possessive, a little unhinged, but he doesn’t care because as long as you're his, everything feels right.

He sat there in the dim glow of the cabin lights, watching you. Just watching. Your head rested against the seat behind him, your slow, steady breaths syncing with the quiet hum of the plane. You looked so peaceful, so his.

Jungkook’s fingers twitched, aching to touch you. Carefully, he reached for your hand, his touch featherlight to avoid waking you. His fingers slipped between yours, securing them. He exhaled slowly, lowering himself beside you, his body finally at ease. With your warmth so close, he allowed his eyes to close.

Seoul welcomed you with open arms.

The city was electric, alive in a way that made your eyes shine. Jungkook had seen Seoul a thousand times, but seeing it through you made it feel new. You marveled at the skyline, the pulse of the streets, the way everything felt both familiar and foreign. He loved that look on your face, pure, unfiltered awe.

He wanted to give you a tour, let you soak in every inch of this place, but exhaustion clung to you after the long flight. He wasn’t about to let you wear yourself out. You had all the time in the world here.

Jungkook’s Seoul penthouse was larger than the one back home. More luxurious. The moment he led you inside, he saw the way your lips parted, your gaze sweeping across the expansive space. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city like a moving painting, streaks of gold and blue reflecting off sleek marble floors. The chandelier overhead cast a warm glow, elegant yet imposing.

Unlike his other penthouse, which leaned toward a more minimalistic style, this one felt fuller, like a place meant to be lived in, not just visited. And now, with you here, it finally felt like home.

Jungkook watched as you moved through the space, your fingertips grazing the polished surfaces, curiosity flickering in your eyes. His stomach tightened. He wanted to freeze this moment, capture the way you looked standing there, fitting so perfectly into his world.

Before he even told you about this trip, he had already made sure everything was perfect. The penthouse, his Seoul home wasn’t just renovated. It was transformed. Every detail was designed to make you feel more at home here than anywhere else. More than the other penthouse. More than the place you called home.

Jungkook didn’t just want you to love this place. He wanted you to feel like you belonged here. That leaving wasn’t even an option.

“Kook, I thought I knew how rich you were, but damn, this is way more than I imagined!” you said, swirling the wine in your glass as you lounged on the couch. The city lights stretched out through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, Seoul alive beneath you.

Jungkook leaned in, taking your free hand in his before pressing a slow kiss to the back of it. But even that wasn’t enough. Sitting beside you wasn’t enough. He wanted more, needed more. Holding your hand was just a weak substitute for what he really craved.

“This is where I lived for six years," he murmured, brushing his lips along your knuckles. “So I wanted it to feel like home.”

Your home.

You tilted your head, watching him with curiosity. “Where are your parents? Do they live separately from you?”

“They’re in Busan,” he answered smoothly, taking a sip of his wine. “That’s my hometown, but I moved here when I started my business.”

You hummed, nodding. Then, the question came.

“Are we going to meet them?”

Jungkook stilled. His lips remained against your skin, but his movements stopped. He tilted his head slightly, a slow grin spreading across his face as he held your gaze.

“Yes,” he said after a moment. “One of these weeks.”

It wasn’t a lie. He had plans for you to meet his family eventually. But not now. Not yet. Right now, he wanted you all to himself, with no distractions, no outside influences. If you met them too soon, they might say things, ask questions, things that could make you think too much.

And he couldn’t have that.

Not when everything was falling into place so perfectly.

His parents were good people. Sweet, jolly, loving. Just like yours. And they loved him, he knew that.

But love didn’t always mean understanding.

Everything changed when they decided to move him away from you after high school. That was their mistake.

His family used to own a food company. It was doing well, until it wasn’t. Bankruptcy hit hard, and they had to pack up and start over in another country, relying on relatives to get back on their feet. Then, years later, some investor showed up, talking big about bringing the company back. His parents ate it up, convinced this was their second chance.

And just like that, they dragged him back to Busan.

For what? A company that was never going to make it? He knew from the start it wouldn’t work, and surprise, surprise. It didn’t.

But that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was being away from you.

That shit messed him up.

The years without you were torture.

They twisted his mind, frayed the edges of his sanity. Every single day without you bothered him, turned his thoughts into something negative, something desperate. He had spent so many nights thinking of you, wanting you, missing you so badly that he almost left everything behind just to find you again.

But, of course, it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t that easy. He needed a plan.

And now?

Now, everything he had, everything he built, it was all for you.

And he wasn’t going to lose you again.

Your first few days in Seoul were everything you imagined. New places, new experiences, a whole different world to explore. You wanted to do everything at once, squeezing a week’s worth of plans into a single day.

Jungkook found it cute. Exhausting, but cute.

Still, he didn’t like how restless you were. There was no need to rush. You had all the time in the world here with him.

“I saw this huge library in Gangnam,” you said over dinner in Hongdae, eyes practically glowing with excitement. “I think it’d be nice to spend a whole day there, just working and reading. What do you think?”

Jungkook glanced at you, chewing slowly. “You wanna work there for a day, hmm?” His voice was gentle, but his grip on his chopsticks tightened slightly.

He wanted you to enjoy Seoul, but he preferred to pace things out. He had everything planned, not just for the city, but for the rest of South Korea. And you’d explore it all his way.

“Yeah, I just wanna try working outside your apartment for a change. I think that’d be cool,” you said, sipping your drink.

Of course, your job let you work remotely. Because of him.

It wasn’t difficult to pull some strings, to make sure your company gave you that freedom. Jungkook could’ve had you quit altogether if he wanted, but he wasn’t reckless. He knew better than to push too hard, too soon.

He had limits. The kind that kept you from slipping away.

“Okay, you can do that tomorrow.”

As much as he wanted to be with you every second of the day, he couldn’t. He had business to handle too. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t keeping an eye on you.

You weren’t familiar with Seoul yet, and he needed you to be. He wanted you to settle in, to feel at home here the same way you did back in your country because that’s exactly what he planned for.

Of course, he wasn’t reckless. He wouldn’t just send you off on your own without precautions. He had someone watching, just in case. It wasn’t about control, it was about keeping you safe. People might think he was being overbearing, but they didn’t understand. If you have something precious, you don’t risk losing it. You protect it.

And he already lost you once. That wasn’t happening again.

—

Sitting in a high-rise conference room, discussing market expansion with Seoul’s biggest executives, Jungkook casually checked his phone under the table. His screen lit up with your activity, a habit he never planned to break.

You were at home. That was good. But you’d been on a phone call for almost an hour.

His jaw tightened. Who the hell were you talking to for that long?

He didn’t have full access to your conversations, just enough to know where you were and what you were doing on your phone. Usually, it was nothing out of the ordinary. But this? This was new. And he didn’t like surprises.

Jungkook locked his phone and leaned back in his chair, eyes unreadable as the meeting droned on.

It could be your friends. It could be your family. It could be anyone.

But the fact that he didn’t know was driving him insane.

“We’re positioning ourselves as a premium alternative. Market research shows a gap in high-end offerings for this industry, and we intend to fill that space,” Yoongi, the CEO, said, but Jungkook barely heard him.

His grip tightened on his phone as he stared at your activity log. The timestamp kept ticking up. Forty-five minutes, then fifty, then an hour. Who the hell were you talking to for that long?

Mina? Chloe? Fine. He could tolerate that.

But it could also be Henry.

Fuck him.

Jungkook clenched his jaw. He knew Henry was “just a friend,” but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He didn’t like you talking to any man, let alone being friends with one. If it were up to him, he would’ve cut Henry off years ago.

“Mr. Jeon?”

Jungkook blinked, snapping out of it when he heard his name. He glanced up from his phone, locking the screen before looking at Yoongi.

“Come again?” he asked, voice steady despite the irritation simmering beneath it.

“As I mentioned, we’re positioning ourselves as a high-end alternative. Market research reveals a lack of premium options in this industry, and we plan to capitalize on that opportunity,” yoongi repeated, watching him carefully.

Jungkook exhaled, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Good,” he said coolly. “But I want clear numbers. Expected ROI, break-even timeline, and contingency plans if the initial launch underperforms. Email them to me by my Monday.”

Yoongi nodded, but Jungkook wasn’t paying attention anymore.

He cut the meeting short without a second thought, pushing back his other appointments. He needed to go home. Now.

The thought of you on the phone for over an hour, laughing, talking, confiding in someone while he was stuck in a boardroom made his blood boil. He couldn’t stand not knowing. He needed to be in control, needed to know every little detail, even the things that weren’t his business. Because when it came to you, everything was his business.

When he stepped into the penthouse, the sight of you greeted him instantly. You were in the receiving area, vacuuming, completely unaware of how restless he’d been.

You’d been here for a week already, and as much as he was letting you do whatever you wanted, he was also watching. Watching what you did, who you talked to, how you spent your time.

“You’re home early. I thought you weren’t coming back until dinner,” you said, smiling as he walked toward you. He pressed a quick kiss against your lips, but his mind was elsewhere.

“Yeah, I am,” he said smoothly, shrugging off his coat. “How are you doing, Y/N?”

You turned off the vacuum, stretching your arms a little. “I’m good. Just cleaning up a bit.”

Jungkook’s eyes flickered around the room until he spotted your phone on the center table.

“What did you do today?” Jungkook asked, watching you closely, waiting, hoping you’d tell him without him having to drag it out of you.

You glanced at him briefly. “Just cleaned up a little and got some work done this morning.”

Not the answer he wanted.

If you were going to tell him about that damn phone call, you would’ve said it by now. But you didn’t.

He couldn’t ask outright, not yet. He knew how easily thoughts could plant themselves in your mind, and he didn’t need you questioning things. He’d find another way to figure it out.

Then you hesitated, inhaling like you had something to say. Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Jungkook leaned against the counter, loosening his tie. “You wanna say something, love?”

You finally spoke. “We’ve been here for a week already, but… we haven’t really done much for a vacation.”

Ah.

You didn’t even need to finish. He already knew where this was going.

“I know you’re really busy with work, but I was just wondering… how long are we planning to stay here?”

Jungkook stared at you for a moment before tilting his head slightly, lips twitching in amusement. “Why? You wanna go home already?”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. “Of course not! I was just curious… I mean, we’re here for a vacation, but you work a lot.”

He knew what you meant, but that didn’t mean he liked hearing it.

“Oh? I didn’t realize we weren’t allowed to work during a vacation.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, one brow raised.

“That’s not what I meant,” you huffed. “I just—I was just wondering—”

Jungkook cut you off, nodding as if he was mocking you. “I get it. You want us to go out more instead of me working.”

“N-no, that’s not—”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” His voice was smooth, sharp eyes locked onto you. “I get your point. We’ll do things your way.”

Except you didn’t need to say it. He already knew what was on your mind. But he wasn’t going to let you say it.

True to his word, Jungkook made sure to give you what you wanted.

For the next week, he took you around the city showing you Seoul through his own curated version of it. He noticed the way your mood shifted, heavier than before, and he knew it was because of that conversation.

But he didn’t have to address it.

Because soon enough, you’d forget about it.

Just like right now.

—

You were sipping a hot coffee, eyes locked on the dazzling view from Namsan Tower. The city stretched beneath you, glowing under the deep night sky, and Jungkook knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Wow. Seoul is really beautiful, Kook,” you murmured, your voice full of wonder.

But he wasn’t looking at the view.

He was looking at you.

You were glowing under the soft moonlight, the city lights reflecting in your eyes. He should be admiring the skyline, but you were the only thing worth looking at. He hated how much he loved moments like this, how much he wanted to preserve them.

So, without a word, he pulled his phone from his pocket, aimed the camera at you, and snapped a photo.

You notice Jungkook taking a picture of you, and without hesitation, you step closer, snatching his phone from his hand. A grin spreads across your face as you switch to the front camera.

“Come on, Kook, smile!” you say, glancing at him before snapping a quick selfie. The first shot catches him off guard, his expression unreadable, but you don’t stop there. You take a few more. Three, to be exact until you're satisfied.

Jungook watches you quietly, letting you have your moment.

“Honestly, a picture doesn’t even do justice to how beautiful this city is,” you say, handing his phone back before turning to admire the view again.

His gaze lingers on you for a second longer before he finally looks at the skyline, pretending to take in the same sight you are. “Yeah, you’re right,” he says, voice smooth, controlled.

You glance at him, eyes curious. “Since you’ve lived here most of your life, are you used to seeing this view?”

Jungkook leans against the railing, watching the city lights flicker. “Hmm… I’d say yes, but I still find it beautiful.”

You hum in response, sipping your coffee. “Our city is nice too, but maybe I appreciate this more since it’s my first time here.”

A slow smirk tugs at Jungkook’s lips. Good.

Because you’d be here longer than you expected.

And by the time you realized it… you’d already have fallen in love with it.

You both linger around Namsan Tower a little longer, strolling past the endless sea of love locks. The air is crisp, carrying the quiet hum of the city below. You stop at a small booth selling locks, eyes lighting up as you pick one.

“Kook, let’s do one,” you say, already reaching for a marker. You scribble your initials on the lock, then his, before securing it onto the fence. With a grin, you toss the key away, watching it disappear into the night.

Jungkook watches you, amusement flickering in his eyes. You think this lock is what symbolizes your unbreakable bond? That’s cute. But it’s unnecessary.

With or without it, you’re his. He’ll make sure of that.

Jungkook slips an arm around your waist, pulling you in as he looks down at the love lock you just attached. “Unbreakable, huh?” he murmurs, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

If only you knew how true that was.

You’ve done almost everything there is to do in Seoul, and he knows you’ve loved every second of it. From the food to the culture, every little thing has captivated you. And watching you take it all in, smiling like this city is your new home, it’s a sight he could never get tired of.

One of the things he’s grown to love about you is how easily pleased you are. The smallest things make you happy, and that makes you easy to care for. Easy to keep close.

Even back in high school, you saw something in him that others didn’t. When people distanced themselves, you stayed. When they looked away, you looked closer. You chose him, even when no one else would.

Maybe it was a pity. Maybe it was something deeper. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that you loved him, and that was enough. Enough for him to hold on, to fight for this, to shape this love into something unshakable. What others thought of him was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was you, your choices, your opinions. And as long as he could help it, your choices would always align with his. Even if that meant guiding them himself.

He took you around South Korea, but on his terms. It wasn’t the kind of vacation where every day was a new adventure. No, he kept it balanced. Some days for exploring, some for work. That was how it had to be.

You never argued. Never complained. Whether it was because you didn’t mind or because you simply chose not to voice it, he didn’t care. Silence was compliance, and compliance meant control.

And that’s exactly how he wanted it.

Jungkook followed a step behind you as you traced your fingers along the cold metal railing, your gaze lost in the beauty of Nami Island. The soft autumn breeze played with the hem of your pleated skirt, your oversized knitted sweater draping over your frame in a way that made you look so warm, so delicate. He couldn’t wait to take you home, wrap you up in his arms, and keep you there for as long as he wanted.

You stopped suddenly, turning to him with a soft smile. It was enough to make his heart stutter, but there was something in your eyes. Something distant. He quickened his pace, closing the space between you, and without a word, he took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as you walked side by side.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Kook,” you said, your voice light but careful.

He glanced at you, studying your expression. You were smiling, but he knew you too well, something was off.

“It’s a pleasure, love.” He waited, expecting you to say more. But you didn’t.

He hated that.

“How much do you love your stay here?” His tone was casual, but the question wasn’t.

“I really love it here, Jungkook. I really do. Korea is so different from home, but still, I love it here.”

Home.

The word made something dark coil inside him.

He pulled you closer, guiding your head against his chest before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He held you there as you walked together, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the way you fit so perfectly against him. You were his home, his peace. His.

But no matter how tightly he held on, he couldn’t control everything. He could make every decision for you, shape every choice in his favor, but there was one thing he hadn’t accounted for:

The possibility that you might make a choice of your own.

And that was the one thing he wasn’t prepared for.

Jungkook barely had time to remove his coat when he saw the worry in your eyes. You looked like you’d been waiting for him for a while, pacing, rehearsing your words. He already didn’t like where this was going.

“Jungkook,” you started, your voice edged with hesitation. “I just had a meeting with our senior. They need me back for a presentation with new investors and stakeholders. I also have to report to the board—”

He stopped listening. He didn’t need to hear the rest. The way your voice wavered, the way you clutched your hands together, he already knew what you were about to ask.

“Then let someone else handle it.” His tone was clipped, final, like it was the simplest solution in the world.

“I can’t!” Your frustration spilled over, your voice rising slightly. “I’m the Investor Relations Manager. It’s my job, Kook! No one else can do it.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

He had already let you keep your job even though he preferred otherwise. It was his choice to allow it. And now, you were asking him to choose again? To let you go back?

“When are we going home?” Your voice softened, practically pleading now. “Kook, they really need me this time.”

He held your gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable, then casually looked away as he removed his coat, his movements slow, deliberate.

“I’m not sure,” he finally said, shaking off invisible creases in the fabric. “I’ll be busy for the next couple of weeks. I have deals to close, business meetings to attend. You know how it is.”

You swallowed hard. “Then can I go home first?”

That made him stop. Completely.

His fingers curled around the fabric of his coat, knuckles whitening as the air between you turned still. His dark eyes lifted to meet yours, and something flickered behind them. Something unreadable yet unmistakably dangerous.

“You’re leaving me?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, but underneath it was something else.

Panic.

You stepped closer, shaking your head quickly. “Kook, I’m not leaving you. I just— I really need to go back. Just for work.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he let out a slow, humorless scoff.

“Wow,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “After everything I’ve done for you, is it that easy for you to leave? Just because they called you? What? Once?”

“That’s not—”

Jungkook’s fingers twitched at his side, his breathing slow, controlled—too controlled. He could feel his patience thinning, unraveling like a loose thread he was trying desperately to keep together.

“They told you before?” His voice was quiet, almost calm, but there was something beneath it. Something sharp. “And you didn’t tell me?”

You flinched slightly. “I didn’t want to ruin your mood,” you admitted.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, jaw locking. “And now you’re blaming me?”

You pressed your lips together, frustration flickering across your face. “No, of course not! I just—I didn’t want to ruin our vacation, Jungkook. That’s why I kept it to myself. But I have to tell you now.”

He scoffed. “And you don’t think telling me now ruins it?”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Well, that’s exactly what you meant, Y/N!” His voice was sharper now.

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden shift. He rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it was like a storm brewing, low, intense, unpredictable.

“I’ve been here, juggling everything. Work, time with you, making sure you have everything you need. And you—” He let out a dry laugh. “The second they call, you’re ready to drop everything. Just like that.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. No words came out.

Jungkook tilted his head, studying you. The way your hands trembled slightly at your sides, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed back emotions you were trying so hard to hide.

He should feel guilty. He should care.

But he didn’t.

“The worst part?” His voice was softer now, but it was the kind of softness that made the air feel heavy. “You prove to me, over and over again, that I will never be your priority.”

A tear slipped from the corner of your eye, but he didn’t move. Didn’t reach for you.

Let you feel it. Let you sit in it.

Because this wasn’t just about work. This was about control.

And he refused to lose it.

“If you’re so desperate to leave,” he finally said, turning away, his voice cold and detached, “then go.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

Didn’t need to.

Because he already knew that you won’t leave.

He couldn’t understand why you insisted on working. It wasn’t like you had to. He was here, ready to give you everything. Yet, you kept holding on to something so insignificant when he had already built an entire fucking empire for you. Every deal, every dollar, every sacrifice, it was all for you.

When he started making real money, it wasn’t greed that drove him It was you. You were the reason he clawed his way to the top, the reason he burned through sleepless nights, the reason he never let himself fail. He stayed away, kept his distance, let you live your little life because he wanted to come back when he was ready, when he was powerful enough to make sure you could never slip through his fingers again.

The person you knew in high school? He buried him. In his place stands someone unrecognizable, someone untouchable. And yet, no matter how much money, status, or control he has, the thought of you walking away still eats him alive.

So before that can happen, he’s already making sure it won’t. Because what’s the point of having everything if he doesn’t have you?

You’re the only fucking reason he has to live.

Jungkook yanked his phone from his pocket, his fingers moving swiftly as he dialed the CEO of your company. He knew you wouldn’t leave. Not really. You couldn’t. But he wasn’t the type to sit back and hope. He made sure of things. He always did.

“Y/N won’t be coming back,” he said the moment the call connected, his tone cold, final. “Fire her. Tell her she’s being replaced by someone more competent.”

There was no hesitation on the other end. Just immediate agreement. As it should be. The moment the call ended, he exhaled slowly, satisfied.

He worked too hard, built too much, just to have you run back to a life that no longer served his plans. Everything he had, his success, his power, it was all for you. But if your choices didn’t align with his? Then you didn’t need choices at all. He still let you think you had them, of course. As long as they led exactly where he wanted.

And sure enough, he was right. You didn’t leave. Because for what? Work? You didn’t have one anymore.

He watched as you withdrew, as you curled in on yourself, as you let the weight of everything settle in. He didn’t stop you when you pulled away, when you cried, when you let yourself crumble under the reality he created for you. He let you feel the loss, the loneliness. Not because he didn’t care. Of course, he cared. He always cared.

But sometimes, he had to let you break on your own. Because only then would you finally see, he was all you had. Just like you were all he needed.

Of course, he didn’t let you cry alone the whole time. He gave you space just enough to let the weight of everything sink in, to let you feel small, lost. But he was always there, lingering in the background, ready to be the only comfort you had left.

Because he would never leave you to suffer on your own. Not when he was the one who put you in this position in the first place. But you didn’t need to know that.

Now, in the dim glow of the bedroom, he held you close, feeling the way your body trembled against his. His arms were firm around you, securing you exactly where you belonged. Right here, with him. He leaned against the headboard, his fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns on your arm, his presence steady, inescapable.

“I know it hurts now, love,” he murmured, his voice soft, patient, the perfect contrast to the chaos he caused. “But maybe it’s for the best. Maybe this happened for a reason. You’ll be fine… Trust me. As long as you’re with me, you’ll be fine.”

He wiped the tears from your cheeks with gentle fingers, studying your face as if memorizing every vulnerable detail. And you didn’t say a word. You didn’t ask for help, didn’t fight to get your job back, didn’t even question why it all happened so suddenly.

Nothing.

Only quiet sobs escaped your lips.

And that was fine. More than fine.

Because as long as this kept you here, exactly where he wanted you. He could live with that.

You stayed home for the following days. Barely leaving the bedroom. Jungkook let you be, giving you space while he handled business, but that only worked in his favor. You weren’t going anywhere, and he didn’t have to worry too much. Not when he had eyes on you the entire time.

Of course, you didn’t know about the hidden CCTV in the apartment. You didn’t need to.

Most of the time, when he checked the feed, you were either sleeping, mindlessly scrolling on your phone, or watching TV. You looked drained, distant. Maybe even depressed. But he wasn’t too concerned. You’d be fine. You always were.

He also monitored your phone activity. He saw the messages, the way you still kept in touch with your friends and family, updating them on your life. But he noticed how carefully you chose your words, how you left things out.

And that? That satisfied him.

You defended him without being asked, without him even having to plant the idea in your head. You already knew what he wanted. You knew exactly what to say, how to make them believe that everything was fine. That’s how he knew you loved him just as much as he loved you.

You were such a good girl for him. So obedient.

He knew your friends didn’t like him especially Mina. Not that it mattered. If anything, it thrilled him to watch you choose him over them every time. To watch you stand by him, no matter what.

It felt so good.

And he wasn’t going to let you drown in misery forever. No, he made sure of that.

For the past week, he took you out every day. Five-star restaurants, designer boutiques, all your favorite places. He made sure you were surrounded by luxury, by comfort, by him. He wiped away every trace of sadness, covering it up with indulgence, making you forget, if only for a moment what had been taken from you.

But he wasn’t blind. He saw the shift in you. The way your smiles were forced. The way your laughter lacked its usual warmth. The way you were starting to notice.

But he didn’t have to do anything about it.

Not yet.

Because sooner or later, you’d understand. The life he was giving you was far better than the one you had before.

And when that realization finally sank in?

You wouldn’t want to leave.

—

Just like he promised, he was taking you to Busan to meet his family. It felt like a necessary step. An assurance of his love for you. A way to solidify things, to remind you that he was willing to give you everything, even parts of himself he didn’t care for.

He also figured this trip would help. A change of scenery. New faces. Because lately, the only person you had been around was him. Not that he minded, but he didn’t want you to feel isolated. Even if, in reality, that was exactly what was happening.

His relationship with his parents had never been close. Even as a kid, there was always distance. But after they dragged him back to Korea, forcing him away from you, that’s when he truly cut them off.

The only reason he still tolerated them now was simple.

They were the reason he worked so hard. The reason he built everything from the ground up. The reason he clawed his way to the top, just to have you in his arms again.

If not for that, he wouldn’t even spare them a second thought.

"I'm really glad you finally visited us after so many years, son. And you even brought your girlfriend with you," Jungkook’s mother said, her voice warm with nostalgia.

Jungkook barely reacted, keeping his expression smooth as he sliced through his food. You and he sat at the dining table with his parents, the scent of simmered broth and fresh side dishes filling the space. His parents were thrilled, probably thinking this visit meant something.

They had no idea how he really felt. And they didn’t need to.

“What do you do for a living?” His father’s voice cut through the quiet clatter of utensils. The question was aimed at you, and instantly, Jungkook felt your body tense beside him. Your hand, which had been resting lightly on the table, twitched just slightly and he clenched his chopsticks tighter.

Before you could even answer, he spoke for you. “She’s taking a break right now. That’s why we’re here for a long time.” His voice was even, but his grip had turned rigid.

You turned to him, your expression unreadable, but he refused to meet your eyes. Instead, he continued eating, slow and controlled.

“Really? But what did you do before?” His mother chimed in, her curiosity laced with harmless interest.

He wanted to shut this conversation down. Shift it away. Stop them from prying. But he had to play along.

“I was an Investor Relations Manager,” you answered, offering a small, polite smile before turning your focus back to your food.

His father hummed in acknowledgment, then turned to Jungkook. “Investor, huh? As I recall, your business is in the same field, isn’t it?”

Jungkook stabbed his chopsticks into a piece of meat, his jaw tightening.

“You never tell us much about your life. Even your business,” his mother added.

"All we know is you’re making millions and millions every day. If only you invested in your own parents’ business, that would be great.”

Jungkook mentally rolled his eyes, keeping his expression unreadable.

He would never invest in something like that.

And he sure as hell would never invest in the very thing that tore him away from you.

Jungkook could feel your eyes on him, waiting for a response. But he kept his gaze fixed on his food, forcing himself to chew slowly. It wasn’t worth talking about. Not now. Not ever.

Sensing the silence stretching too long, you spoke up instead.

“Actually, Jungkook and I met at work, and before that, the last time we saw each other was in high school. That’s where we really got to know each other.”

His mother giggled, a soft, nostalgic sound. “I still can’t believe you two are high school sweet—”

“Honey, they were only friends in high school!” His father cut in with a laugh.

“Oh, right! But if we hadn’t moved back here, maybe you two would’ve been dating since then!”

Jungkook tightened his grip on his chopsticks. The conversation was light, harmless even. But he wasn’t stupid. He noticed how you shifted in your seat, how your fingers grazed the table absentmindedly like you were holding something back. He could read you too well. He knew there was something you wanted to say but you didn’t.

And he had a feeling he knew exactly what it was.

“If only he had introduced you to us before!” His mother sighed wistfully before turning her gaze to Jungkook. “You know, he was different when he was younger. More… open, I suppose. But ever since we moved back here, he became quiet, distant. We knew he wanted to stay in your country, he even begged us to go back but it wasn’t that simple.”

She looked at him then, a sad, longing expression crossing her face. “We’re proud of the man he’s become, of course. We just wish he could be open with us again. Let us back into his life.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. The sound of his father’s spoon clinking against his bowl suddenly felt too loud. The warm aroma of the food became nauseating.

This. This right here was why he had kept his distance. Why he loathed them.

Pathetic.

They sat there, spewing bullshit, acting as if they were the victims. Acting as if they deserved his time, his emotions, his fucking pity. They had no idea. They never took responsibility. Instead, they pointed fingers at him, as if it was his fault that everything turned out this way.

But it wasn’t.

It was theirs.

He was already done with this conversation. Done with this entire visit. He needed to get out of here.

With you.

The lunch dragged on longer than Jungkook would have liked. His parents kept the conversation going, moving from small talk to stories about their old business. Their grand rise and inevitable failure. They spoke as if reminiscing about something tragic, but all Jungkook heard was noise.

He barely touched his food, his jaw tightening every time they brought up the past. He masked his irritation well, but the tension in his grip against his chopsticks was telling. He just wanted to leave.

This was exactly why he never wanted to come here. Why he never wanted you to meet them. They talked too much. About things that didn’t matter. About things he never wanted you to hear.

And now, he could already tell. You had questions. You always did when something didn’t add up. And right now, after everything his parents had carelessly spilled, your mind must be full of them.

Of course, you didn’t ask in front of them. You wouldn’t. But he knew you too well.

And he was right.

Because the moment the car was back on the road, heading toward Seoul, your voice broke the silence.

“Your parents are nice.” Your voice was light, but Jungkook could hear the underlying curiosity.

“Uh-huh.” His response was flat, laced with sarcasm.

“They even wanted us to stay. They’re really accommodating, Kook.”

He saw you glance at him from the corner of his eye, but he kept his gaze locked on the road. His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.

“I have a meeting first thing in the morning.”

Without warning, he overtook the car in front of him, the sudden movement making you flinch.

“Sorry, love.” His voice softened, one hand briefly leaving the wheel to rest on your thigh. A gentle caress.

He had spent all his patience back at that house. The last thing he wanted was to talk about his parents again.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother.” Your tone was casual, but there was something beneath it. An unspoken challenge. “It sucks that I only found out now. I just realized… I barely know anything about your past.” You sighed. “I feel bad.”

“That’s why I brought you home to meet them,” he said, hoping it didn’t sound as sarcastic as it felt.

You studied him for a moment, like you were trying to read him. He gave you a small smile, his hand still resting on your thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles. A distraction. A way to keep you comfortable.

Then, you caught him off guard.

“Kook, why didn’t you invest in your parents’ business?”

His grip on the wheel tightened. He didn’t expect that.

You continued before he could answer. “You’re a big-time investor, right? It would help them a lot.”

“It’s not worth investing in. It’s already a failed business.” His tone was neutral, controlled.

“But they loved that business. Losing it broke them. Isn’t there any chance of bringing it back?”

“No.” His voice was sharp, final. “If there was, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

That was a lie. Even if their business was worth saving, he still wouldn’t do it. They didn’t deserve it. They didn’t deserve anything from him.

You looked at him again, hesitant, like you wanted to push further. To unravel the parts of him he kept hidden. But then, you seemed to realize he wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

So you stayed quiet.

Good.

As much as he wanted to tell you everything, how his parents ruined his life, how they ripped him away from you, he couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk you looking at him differently.

He’d rather keep you in the dark than let you see the parts of him he didn’t want you to understand.

—

It’s been a week since you and Jungkook visited his parents. And two weeks since you lost your job.

You haven’t told him about it. You haven’t asked about going home either. Not once. And it’s better that way. If you did, he already had an answer prepared, but he preferred that you didn’t ask at all.

You’ve become more obedient, following his lead without hesitation. You don’t ask for anything anymore. You don’t make requests. You just… comply.

It should make him happy. He decides what’s best for you, after all. But he doesn’t want you to turn into a lifeless doll, either. You should still function like a normal girlfriend and hold onto him like you need him.

And you do need him.

Jungkook wants to give you everything, especially now that you’re finally settling into his rhythm. He wonders if you realize how much he adores you like this. Maybe you don’t. Maybe you think this is just another day, another morning, another moment.

But to him, it’s everything.

You’re sleeping beside him, curled up and peaceful, completely unaware of his gaze lingering on you. His love for you grows stronger every day, so intense it nearly overwhelms him. It consumes him.

He rests his head on his arm, watching you, memorizing the way your lashes flutter faintly with every slow breath. His free hand moves on its own, fingers ghosting over your cheek.

His heart pounds in his ears.

The back of his fingers trail down to your lips, tracing the soft curve of them. You don’t even stir. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

Then, his fingers drift lower, down your arm, feeling the warmth of your skin. So soft. So delicate. His.

He could feel a familiar sensation growing between his legs as he touched your soft skin. He tried to ignore it but failed. The more he touched you, the more he thought about how much he wanted to be with you. He couldn't stop imagining all the ways he wanted to touch you, to be inside you. He felt his self-control slipping away as he placed his thumb finger on your lower lip, imagining how it would feel wrapped around him.

He couldn't help but look at your body, the outline of your breasts visible through your flimsy pajamas.

He have touched you several times but the sensation and feeling of your body was so intoxicating and addicting he couldn't get enough.

Fuck, Y/N.

He can barely keep himself from losing control. He desperately wants to bend you over and taste your lips but he knows that's not what he's supposed to do, so instead he slowly pulled his dick out and began to slowly stroke it while you sleep beside him, teasing himself.

He can’t help it but want to press you against the bed, taking in and enjoying every curve of your body, but he knows he can’t do that. Not now. He takes your hand softly in his, holding it warmly. His other hand slowly teases his dick, imagining how you’d feel under him, as he stares directly at your pretty face, his thoughts filled with nothing but how desperately he wants you, yet he holds himself back.

Damn it, love.

He gripped himself tightly, his dick throbbing and leaking a small amount of cum that he eagerly spread over himself, slicking his movements as he pumped it harder and harder, his eyes locked onto your peaceful sleeping face, silently begging for you to wake.

His hands, despite his best efforts to keep them still, began to roam down your body, splaying out over your stomach and slowly inching lower until his fingers splayed out over your pussy through the thin fabric of your sleepwear.

He wanted you to wake up as his body already halfway there even without your touch. He hoped your eyes would flutter open and catch him like this, his pants tented, his hips subtly humping the air, his hands twitching with the urge to grope your body again unconsciously.

"Fuck..." he hissed under his breath, losing control as his hand moved faster over his length, the wet sounds filling the room.

"Love..." he moaned your nickname, imagining it was your hand, your mouth, your heat around him rather than his own hands.

The soft, sensual moan that escaped your lips in your sleep sent electric jolts through him, making his grip on his dick tighten as he continued to stroke himself feverishly. He scooted closer, his fingers teasing your pussy through your clothes, rubbing slow circles over it.

His breath hitched as he felt the dampness seeping through your thin pajama bottoms, signaling your body's unconscious response to his touches. He gently slipped his hand inside, finding your folds slick and warm, a soft whimper escaping his lips at the contact.

As your eyes flutter open, you catch the erotic sight before you. Jungkook was furiously pumping his dick, clear fluid leaking steadily from the tip. The wet, obscene sounds of his strokes filled the air.

“K-kook, what are you doing?” Your voice was low and husky and your arousal was obvious, making him lose control faster.

Without warning, he covered your body with his, capturing your lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth, dominating it as his body pressed you into the mattress. His weight pushed your smaller frame down, causing your chest to rise and fall rapidly.

He humped against your center like a wild animal, marking your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses and sucking hickeys onto your jaw. His lips traveled down your chin, your jawline, your neck, leaving red, passionate marks. He was practically dry humping you, his control shot.

"Love..." He growled softly, hearing your shaky voice. Your arousal made him hungry. He yanked your shirt off, his mouth latching onto your breast without warning. You threw your head back with a loud moan as he sucked hard, his other hand pinching and rolling your nipple.

He could feel your softness against his tongue, the way you filled his mouth perfectly. He sucked harder, his hand squeezing your other breast possessively.

He kissed lower, trailing his lips down your stomach, his hands pulling your pajama bottoms down slowly. He peppered kisses on your pelvis, his hot breath tickling your lower belly. "Lift your hips, Y/N..." He whispered, his voice muffled against your skin.

He spread your thighs wider, diving between them. He flattened his tongue against your entrance, licking upwards to catch your wetness. "Damn," He muttered, watching you toss your head back. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking softly while pushing two fingers inside you.

God, you’re so fucking beautiful.

He watches you play with your breasts. Your fingers twisting your hard peaks made him harder. He pushed his fingers deeper, his mouth suctioning around your clit. Your moans grew louder, your back arching off the bed. His free hand spread your thighs wider apart.

Your nails dug deeper into the bed as you neared the edge. He suddenly pulled back, leaving you empty and disappointed. Before you could protest, he pulled his pants down and pressed the tip of his hard dick against your clit. His head rested on top of you, grinding his tip against you.

"K-kook… please?" He smirked wickedly, watching you throw your head back. He ground his tip against your sensitive nub, teasing you.

He paused his tease and grabbed your face, staring harshly into your eyes. "Remember this...you're mine." He grumbled, crashing his lips against yours. The kiss was desperate and hungry, his tongue dominating yours immediately. He pushed his tip inside you slowly before thrusting hard. “Do you understand that?”

"Do you understand?!” He growled, his deep voice echoing. He thrusts his hips harder, watching your breasts bounce. He repeated himself slower, "Answer the damn question." His fingers dug into your hips painfully. "Use your words,"

"Yes!” You answered with a tear in your eyes as his movement became faster.

"Fuck, Y/N," he panted against your lips, his body shaking when both of you reach orgasm. He remained buried deep inside you, his eyes locked onto yours. "You're mine. Only. Mine." He enunciated each word slowly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

He leaned down and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much it hurts.”

—

You’re such a good girl. So obedient. So perfect for him.

Jungkook always knew you’d get there eventually. You’re adjusting—slowly, but that’s okay. He can be patient. He understands that change takes time.

But he’s not blind. He sees how quiet you’ve become, how your laughter has faded into silence. You talk less, do less. Even when he offers to take you out, most of the time, your refuse. You spend most of your time curled up in bed, staring at your phone or watching TV, lost in some world that isn’t his.

That’s fine. You’ll come around.

He tells himself it’s just part of the process. Your adjustment period. You’re still settling into your new reality, learning to accept that this is your home now.

But even if he understands, that doesn’t mean he likes it.

He misses the way you used to be. The spark in your eyes, the way you used to tease him, the way you’d reach for him without thinking. That version of you is slipping away, fading like a dream upon waking.

Does he regret this? Is he having second thoughts?

Never.

This is only temporary. He knows that if he wavers now, if he lets himself get soft, he’ll never have what he truly wants.

So he won’t.

Instead, he’ll remind you.

He’ll give you all the attention you need, fill every empty space in your mind until there’s no room left for doubt.

“Lately, you’ve been watching a lot of baking videos,” Jungkook muses, his voice casual. It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, and he got home earlier than usual. You’re curled up on the couch, a snack in hand, eyes fixed on the TV.

He moves closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck before catching your lips. He feels you relax beneath him, just slightly.

“Nothing really to watch,” you reply, brushing it off.

Jungkook settles beside you, his gaze never leaving you as he reaches for a snack. His fingers trail absentmindedly along your thigh, slow and deliberate.

“I was thinking,” he starts, his tone light, “maybe you’d like to take baking lessons? Learn how to do it yourself.”

“That’s not necessary, Kook,” you say with a small laugh. “I just find it entertaining, that’s all.”

He hums, rubbing slow circles into your skin. “Then do you want to do something? Yoga classes, maybe?”

Silence.

You hold his gaze, but there’s something in your expression that makes his stomach tighten. You hesitate, as if weighing whether to say what’s really on your mind. And suddenly, he regrets even asking.

He should change the subject. He should pull you back into something softer, safer. But before he can, you speak.

“Well, if you have something in—”

“When are we going home?”

His whole body stills.

For a second, he doesn’t move. The words settle between you, heavy and suffocating. He exhales, slow and measured, before finally standing.

“I’m not sure yet,” he says, already walking toward the dining hall. “I told you, I have a lot to handle, love. I’ll let you know when.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for your response. He turns on his heel, heading toward the dining hall. He pulls the refrigerator open as he grabs a bottle of water, twisting the cap off before pouring himself a glass. The sound of liquid hitting glass fills the silence.

He knows you're there before he even turns around.

Your presence lingers, hesitant but heavy. He takes his time, swallowing the water then he finally turns to face you.

“I miss home, Kook.”

Home. That fucking word again.

Ever since you started mentioning home, Jungkook has felt a slow, burning irritation clawing at him. The word itself is harmless, but coming from your lips, it feels like a blade. You and he have different definitions of home, and every time you say it, it grates against his nerves.

“We’ve been here for three months already, and I really, really miss home.” Your voice wavers, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and it makes his irritation flare hotter.

“Aren’t we living in the same home either way?” His voice drips with sarcasm, his patience thinning.

“That’s not what I mean. I miss my family, my friends, my country—”

“And you don’t think I feel that too?” He cuts you off, his tone sharper now.

The glass in his hand meets the kitchen island with a dull thud, his fingers tightening around the rim before he releases it. His gaze, dark and unreadable, locks onto yours.

“Do you think I don’t want to go back?” He exhales harshly. “I planned to stay here for a vacation. But I had to handle so many things because, for what? To fucking build the life I want for us!” His voice rises, his frustration cracking through the surface. “I’m not doing this for myself, Y/N. I’m doing this to secure our future.”

Tears finally spill down your cheeks as you look at him, and something about it. The way you’re crying, the way you’re making him feel like the villain making his jaw tighten.

“Tell me,” he steps forward, closing the distance between you, his presence towering over you, “do you really think I’m keeping you here just because I want to?” His voice dips lower, but the intensity in his stare is suffocating.

You shake your head quickly. “Kook, that’s not what I meant!” Your fingers tighten around his, desperate, pleading. “Of course, I appreciate you! I’m sorry if that’s how it sounded, but that’s not what I meant—”

You keep talking, rushing to defend yourself, but Jungkook isn’t listening anymore.

His mind is elsewhere.

Your words dissolve into the background as something deeper stirs inside him. He watches your lips move, watches the way you hold onto him like you’re afraid of slipping away.

Before you can finish, he pulls his hands away, wiping his own tears like he’s trying to erase the moment entirely.

Then he steps back.

“I think we should give ourselves some space.” His voice is quieter now, but distant, detached. He turns, ready to walk away.

But before he can take another step, you do something that surprises him.

“Jungkook, no!”

Before he can take another step, your arms are around his waist, locking him in place. Your grip is desperate, too tight, too frantic, like you're afraid he'll vanish the second you let go.

“N-no… please, let’s talk about this now! Please don’t leave me again.”

The way your voice breaks sends a thrill through him. You’re crying—really crying—and he didn’t expect it. Not like this.

“Please don’t leave me again! Let’s talk about this now. P-please don’t leave me alone.”

Your hands clutch at his back, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt like you're trying to anchor yourself. When you pull back to look at him, your face is soaked, lips trembling, eyes blown wide with fear. Fear.

His heart pounds so hard it’s almost painful. A rush of something hot, something intoxicating, swirls inside him. You need him.

You really need him.

“W-we can talk about this now. Just please, don’t leave me alone.”

You bury yourself into him again, squeezing so tightly he almost forgets to breathe.

Jungkook stands frozen, overwhelmed by the moment, his pulse hammering in his ears. His breath comes out unsteady as his lips curl into a slow, hidden smile. He wants to laugh. Fuck, he wants to celebrate.

Because this. This is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

You’re clinging to him. Begging. Terrified at the thought of losing him.

You get it now, don’t you?

After a long pause, he finally moves. His hands glide up your back, soothing, reassuring. He exhales softly, letting just enough warmth seep into his voice.

“Okay, love. We’ll fix this.”

He’s too happy. A little too happy.

Your reaction, it was unexpected, raw, perfect. The way you clung to him, the way your voice cracked, the way you begged, fuck, it’s all replaying in his head like a song on repeat. It was beautiful. You need him just as much as he needs you. You just proved it.

And that means one thing: You’ll never leave. Not really.

You might resist, you might hesitate, but in the end, you break exactly how he wants you to. He doesn’t just control you, your whole existence is wrapped around him now, woven into his life so tightly there’s no escape.

But then, why?

Why did you suddenly bring up home? Why now, after all this time?

His jaw tightens. Something triggered you. Something. Or someone.

He doesn’t need to guess. He already knows.

It’s past 2 AM when he finally moves. The room is quiet, bathed in the soft blue glow of the nightlight. You're asleep, curled up in the king-sized bed, your breathing slow, steady and peaceful. Completely unaware.

Jungkook reaches for your phone on the bedside table, unlocking it effortlessly with his Face ID. He leans back on the couch, screen illuminating his face, and scrolls straight to your messages.

He knows exactly where to look.

And of course, he was right.

His smirk is slow, dangerous, curling at the edges as he reads.

You: I miss you too! I’ll see you soon once I return.

Mina: As you should. I’m so sick of being with Henry all the time! When are you even coming home? You’ve been there since forever.

Chloe: Yeah, Y/N. I thought you’d only be there for a vacation? You never said you’d stay this long.

You: Not sure with Jungkook. He has a lot of business to do as of now.

Henry: Are you even part of his business? Last time I checked, you and he were there for a vacation, not for business. Seriously, Y/N, he’s caging you at this point.

His smirk twitches.

And then, there it is. A missed video call, two fucking hours.

Yesterday. While he was too busy working to notice.

His fingers tighten around the phone. Of course. They filled your head with bullshit.

How stupid of him to let this slip.

It won’t happen again.

He locks the phone and sets it back on the table, gaze flickering toward you. You’re still fast asleep, unaware that your little secret is no longer a secret.

Jungkook leans back, exhaling through his nose, his mind already working.

He’ll fix this.

He always does.

Jungkook doesn’t waste time.

The moment he discovers what your so-called friends have been whispering in your ear, he takes action.

First thing in the morning, before you even stir awake, he makes a call. The kind of call that isn’t exactly legal. By noon, he’s holding a sleek, black signal jammer in his hands, fresh from the black market. Compact, powerful, and silent.

He won’t resort to something as obvious as taking your phone away. That’s not the game he plays. No, no, no. He wants you to believe you’re still in control. That your world isn’t shrinking. That nothing’s changed.

Because that’s the key, you can’t miss what you don’t realize you’ve lost.

He positions the device in a discreet spot, its range wide enough to swallow every signal in the apartment. But, of course, he’s thought ahead. He installs a high-power signal booster for himself because while your world goes dark, his remains crystal clear. He still needs to monitor things. Track things. Track you.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice. The way your fingers swipe at your screen again and again, waiting for something to load. The way your brows knit together when nothing does. The way you glance around, confused, frustrated.

He sees it all.

Your world is already shrinking, and you don’t even realize it yet.

Jungkook leans back in his chair, a slow smirk forming.

“Weak signals happen sometimes, love. It’ll come back. Don’t worry.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before pulling you onto the couch, wrapping you in his arms as the TV played in the background. What else could you do, really? Without a working connection, entertainment options were limited, and he had to pretend he was dealing with the same issue. TV was the perfect distraction. One that kept you close to him.

In a way, he liked this. No phones, no interruptions. Just the two of you, undisturbed. The thought alone made his heart flutter.

The next day, the situation hadn’t changed, and he knew frustration would start creeping in again. So he took you out. All day, keeping you occupied, keeping your mind off things. You didn’t resist. Why would you? There was nothing to do in the apartment without the internet, no one to talk to, nowhere else to turn.

A museum date. He half-expected you to get bored, but to his surprise, you didn’t. You wandered through the exhibits with wide, fascinated eyes, taking in every detail, pointing out the ones you liked best. Jungkook watched you more than the art. Watched the way your lips curved in a smile, the way your fingers traced the air as you spoke. You weren’t hard to please. Anything he laid out in front of you, you embraced, appreciated, accepted.

That was what made it so easy to love you.

And that was what made him tighten his grip.

Because something so easy, so pure, could be taken away in an instant.

He wouldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not ever. You were already his, and keeping you meant protecting you. Even if you didn’t realize it yet.

For the third, fourth, and fifth day, nothing changed. The signal jammer stayed on, and you stayed unaware. He kept you entertained when he was home, making sure there was always something to distract you. Movies, dinner, his arms wrapped around you on the couch. But when he wasn’t around, all you had was the TV.

That was fine. That was good.

Whenever he was out, he tracked your location. He never mentioned it, of course. He played dumb when you casually told him where you went, what you did to pass the time. It made things easier. It reassured him. You were still being good, still keeping him in the loop, still showing him without even realizing it that you loved him. That you weren’t going anywhere.

And that was all he needed.

Because as long as you kept being this obedient, this trusting, you wouldn’t even notice the strings wrapped around you, pulling you exactly where he wanted.

But of course, no matter how much control he had, some things still slipped through the cracks.

He thought he had everything covered. That as long as you stayed close, as long as you kept looking at him the way you always did, nothing would change.

But even the most perfect plans had flaws.

It was a cold Thursday evening when Jungkook stepped out of the shower, steam curling around him as droplets clung to his skin. A towel hung low on his waist, and the heat from the water still lingered on his body, contrasting the chill in the air. He had just returned from a long business meeting. Another deal closed, another win under his belt. You were in the kitchen, insisting on making dinner, and he let you.

As he pulled on his nightwear in the walk-in closet, he instinctively reached for his phone. But his fingers met empty space. His usual spot? Empty. Bedside table? Nothing. Maybe he left it outside? That was unlikely. His phone was always with him.

The frustration simmered. His brows furrowed as he searched every possible surface in the bedroom. It wasn’t there. His chest tightened. And then—

A ringtone.

Not from inside the room. From outside.

His breath caught. His phone wasn’t on silent. You were hearing it.

A sharp pulse of panic shot through him as he shoved the bedroom door open. The sound grew louder, the vibrations almost rattling in his ears, until he saw you.

Standing at the dining table.

Staring at his phone.

A cold sensation crawled up his spine, harsher than the evening air. His fingers twitched. His heart pounded, slamming against his ribs, too fast, too loud.

Without thinking, he strode forward and snatched the phone off the table, immediately declining the call. His grip was tight, white-knuckled. He could feel your eyes on him, could see the way your expression shifted, shock, realization, suspicion.

Then, you moved.

You pulled your phone from your pocket, swiped through the screen, and then your jaw clenched.

Slowly, you looked at him.

Brows furrowed.

And then, without a word, you turned your phone around and showed him the screen.

“How come you can get calls when I can’t even reach you?” Your voice had that sharp edge, like you were daring him to slip up.

Jungkook’s grip on his phone tightened for a second. Just a second before he let out a slow breath. One you wouldn’t even notice.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, meeting your gaze without hesitation. “I’ve had signal since yesterday.”

Your brows furrowed. “What? That doesn’t make sense. I don’t have network service. No internet, either.” You scrolled through your phone, frustration seeping into your voice.

“Maybe it’s your phone. Not the network.”

“Huh? How does that even—”

“I don’t know, love. I’m not a technician.” His tone was casual, a little too nonchalant, as he turned to walk away.

But you weren’t letting it go.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice was sharper now, accusing. “You knew I’ve been complaining about this for days!”

Jungkook exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening, but his voice was still even. “I didn’t notice right away. And I’ve been out, haven’t I? Besides—” He scoffed. “Do you even see me using my phone when I’m home?”

Your frustration boiled over. “Ugh, this is so annoying! What the hell?” You jabbed at your phone aggressively, like pressing harder would somehow force it to work. When it didn’t, you let out a groan, tossing it onto the table with a thud before running a hand through your hair.

Jungkook clenched his teeth, trying to suppress the irritation crawling up his spine. “Y/N, can you calm down? It’s just a phone. We’ll fix it.”

“You don’t get it!” You snapped.

Your voice cracked slightly, your chest rising and falling with every frustrated breath. “That’s my only way to keep in touch with my friends and family while I’m stuck here! It’s the only thing I have to pass the time! I have nothing to do, Jungkook. It’s draining! I feel exhausted just… existing like this!”

His stomach twisted.

Not because of what you said, but because of the way you said it. This was the first time he’d seen you this raw since your last big fight. It was like catching a glimpse of something real. Something he wasn’t supposed to see.

And honestly? He didn’t know how to feel about it.

His fingers curled, nails pressing into his palms, but his face remained unreadable.

“Okay,” he finally muttered. “We’ll get your phone fixed.”

That was all he said before turning on his heel, walking away, leaving you standing there, stunned.

The moment Jungkook stepped into the bedroom, he lost it.

His phone hit the bed with a dull thud, but it wasn’t enough. His hands went straight to his hair, fingers tangling in frustration as he paced back and forth, his mind spiraling.

Anytime now, you could put the pieces together.

Anytime now, you could realize everything.

No. No. No. That cannot fucking happen.

His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, teeth grinding as he tried to force himself to think. He needed a solution. Fast. But every scenario felt like a loose thread, something that could unravel the carefully built illusion he had created around you.

His breath came out sharp and ragged, his chest rising and falling as panic crawled up his spine. His hands curled into fists, nails pressing into his palms.

Calm down. Think.

Would replacing your phone be enough? Could he make it seem like it was just a defective device all along? Should he play dumb, act as if he had no clue what was going on?

Fuck. Think!

He’d always been careful. Always one step ahead. So why was he unraveling now?

Why did this feel different?

He sucked in a slow, shaky breath, trying to steady himself. He was just being paranoid. That’s all this was. He had handled worse. He had controlled worse.

This was just another obstacle.

And like always, he’d find a way to make sure you stayed exactly where you belonged.

But he was wrong.

Because the moment he woke up, you weren’t beside him.

It felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped over him, freezing him in place. His body tensed, fingers gripping the sheets as he blinked, trying to process the empty space next to him.

No. No, no, no.

He had stayed up late, trying to think of a way to fix things. He didn’t even realize he had slept in. And now, you were gone.

His hands were already shaking as he pushed himself out of bed, his heart pounding.

“Y/N?”

The bathroom, empty. The closet, empty. The longer he searched, the faster his panic grew.

He stormed out of the bedroom, checking every corner of the apartment, but you were nowhere to be found. His breathing turned ragged, his vision tunneling. His fingers fumbled as he reached for his phone, opening the tracking app.

There you were. Not far.

A mall.

Fuck.

His jaw clenched so hard it ached. He already knew what you were doing.

His mind raced, self-loathing creeping in. How the fuck did I let this happen? He had been so careful. He had planned everything so perfectly. And yet, somehow, you slipped away.

His grip tightened around his phone as he immediately dialed a number. The person he hired to watch you.

��Find her,” Jungkook ordered, his voice dangerously low. “Now. And tell me exactly what she’s doing.”

Ending the call, he exhaled sharply and let his body drop onto the couch, his knee bouncing as he tried to steady himself.

Calm down.

He had dealt with things like this before. He knew exactly what to do. You were easy to convince, easy to pull back into his world. You always had been.

There was no reason to panic.

Because no matter what, he wouldn’t let this ruin everything.

He had come too far, done too much. What was the point of stopping now?

Minutes later, his phone buzzed. An update.

You had bought a new phone.

Of course, you did. He expected it. He had already planned his reaction, the perfect lie to feed you. He knew how to twist things, how to shape reality into something that made sense to you.

He was ready.

This was just another obstacle, a minor inconvenience. Soon, everything would be back to normal.

Or at least, that was the illusion he forced himself to believe.

Because the moment you walked through that door, his world shattered.

All the confidence, all the carefully built lies, gone.

The second you speak the truth, everything he worked for started to crumble.

You stood in front of him, unmoving, while he lounged back against the couch, arms crossed over his chest. The apartment felt colder than usual, the lack of sunlight casting a dull, gray shadow over everything, including you.

You looked drained.

Dressed in a white knitted sweater under a long black coat, paired with jeans, you slowly unwrapped the scarf from your neck, gripping it tightly in one hand while your other held a paper bag.

He already knew what was inside.

The new phone.

Your eyes locked onto his, unblinking, unwavering. There was an intensity in them that made something deep inside him churn, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he was the first to break the silence.

“Was it really that hard to wake me up and let me know you were going out?” His voice was laced with sarcasm, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You just couldn’t wait to get your phone fixed, huh? Had to rush out and buy a new one?”

He scoffed, shaking his head.

You didn’t answer.

You just stood there, staring at him with eyes filled with something far worse than anger. Disgust. Your jaw clenched so tightly he swore he could hear your teeth grinding, and then he saw it.

A tear.

His smirk twitched, faltering for just a second.

“What’s with the face, love?” he drawled, tilting his head. “I thought you fixed your little problem?”

His voice dripped with mockery, but something inside him twisted, because he could feel it.

Your tears fell silently at first, but then you inhaled sharply, steadying yourself before speaking.

“My phone was jammed,” you said, voice shaking. “Both my phone and the internet connection were jammed.”

Jungkook felt a flicker of something. Surprise, irritation, but he masked it, tilting his head as if your words were nonsense.

“How would your phone be jammed?” His tone was casual, almost amused, like he was humoring you.

You let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t know. Ask yourself.”

The sharpness in your voice sent a ripple of irritation through him.

“How the fuck is my phone jammed while yours isn’t?” You took a step closer, eyes burning with fury. “Does that make any sense to you? Both my laptop and my phone had no signal the entire fucking week, while you were just fine.”

His jaw tightened.

That bastard. The man he hired had left out important details. He hadn’t reported that you had your phone checked.

Fucking useless.

“What the hell are you talking about?” He scoffed, forcing his voice into something more natural. “I didn’t have service either. You know that. We were both—”

“No!”

The single word sliced through the room, loud and unwavering. It caught him off guard.

“I checked your phone this morning,” you continued, voice shaking with restrained rage. “I checked your laptop, too. And both of them had WiFi.”

His fingers twitched. His mind raced.

“Then that’s not my problem anymore—”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, slow and deliberate.

Jungkook felt a chill run down his spine.

“Or…” You took another step forward, your eyes locking onto his like you were staring into something dark and rotten. “Is this just what you wanted me to believe?”

Jungkook didn’t say a word at first. He just watched you, his gaze unwavering, calculating.

He couldn’t afford to make a mistake now.

“I can’t believe you’re blaming me for this.” His voice was measured, carefully laced with disbelief, like he was hurt. “Why would I even do that?”

Then, quieter, like he was nursing a wound only he could feel. “Why do you always blame me when things go wrong for you? Even when it’s your own fault?”

You scoffed, tilting your chin up defiantly. “And how exactly is it my fault that my phone was jammed? That’s not something I could have done to myself, intentionally or unintentionally!”

“No, Y/N.” His voice hardened. “I’m not just talking about the jammer. I’m talking about everything, all the accusations, all the times you’ve turned on me, made me the villain in your little stories.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why are you even bringing all that up? We’re talking about the jammer—”

“Because that’s the problem!” His voice rose suddenly, sharp and unwavering. “You always blame me. The moment something inconvenient happens, it’s Jungkook’s fault. Like it’s second nature to you.”

He took a step forward, but you stood your ground. Your eyes locked onto his, unflinching, before you exhaled and turned to leave.

Panic flashed in his chest.

No.

In an instant, he was behind you, gripping your wrist, firm, but not enough to bruise.

“Are you seriously walking away right now?” His voice was dangerously low, breath uneven. “We’re still talking.”

You yanked your hand free without hesitation. “There’s nothing left to say. This isn’t going anywhere.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

His fingers twitched at his sides, the rage bubbling beneath his skin.

“What?” His voice was strained, barely holding back his temper. “You accuse me of this bullshit, throw it in my face, and then just walk away?”

You took another step toward the door of the bedroom, but this time, you hesitated. Then, slowly, you turned back to face him.

Your expression was unreadable. Empty.

“Yes,” you said, voice hollow. “Because you’ll never admit it. You’ll just twist everything, turn it all around, like you always do.”

Jungkook felt his stomach twist at the way you were looking at him. It was like you were seeing him now, really seeing him.

And then, without another word, you turned your back on him and walked away.

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook didn’t know what to do.

Jungkook felt like his mind was slipping. Too many thoughts, too many emotions crashing over him at once. He couldn’t process what just happened. He needed clarity, needed to understand you. Because suddenly, he couldn't read you anymore.

He hated that.

He stormed into the bedroom without hesitation.

“Why are you doing this to me, huh?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the tense air the moment he stepped inside. “Is this your way of getting back at me? Because I didn’t let you go home when that’s all you’ve been crying about for months? Is that it, Y/N?”

You turned to face him, brows furrowing. “What are you talking about? I never said that!”

“Oh, so you don’t say it, but you show it instead?” His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, his breathing growing heavier. “You think I like watching you change? Seeing you drift further away when all I wanted was for you to wait? You think I enjoy having you next to me when I can tell your mind is somewhere else? That you’re just enduring being with me?” The words poured out of him, unfiltered, his voice trembling with something raw.

“I’m not pulling any act, Jungkook. That’s all in your head.” Your tone was flat, detached.

That only set him off more.

“Oh, fuck it, Y/N! Just tell me the truth—”

“No, you tell me the truth!” You cut him off, voice ringing through the room. “Tell me why you jammed my phone! Tell me why you’re tracking me!”

Jungkook froze. His breath caught in his throat.

His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing, but he said nothing.

You took a step closer, pointing at him with a shaking finger. “You think I didn’t know? There’s a tracking chip inside my phone. And what? You’re going to sit there and twist it around again? Pretend it’s my fault that a tracker magically ended up in my phone? Just like how you jammed my signal?”

Your voice was sharp, relentless.

Jungkook didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just stood there, staring at you. Eyes dark, jaw clenched, mind racing.

Jungkook watched you with hollow eyes, his mind spiraling as your words cut through him like a blade.

Enough.

You’d had enough of him.

He should’ve seen this coming. The way you looked at him differently, the way you hesitated before answering, the way you started pulling away, piece by piece. But knowing didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“I ignored all the red flags,” you said, voice shaking, tears slipping down your cheeks, but you didn’t wipe them away. “I kept telling myself you were doing it because you loved me. I swallowed every truth right in front of me, thinking it was for my sake. But everyone was right.”

Your lips quivered as you exhaled shakily.

“You’ve been manipulating me. You’ve been making me blind to everything you’ve done.”

Jungkook’s fingers curled into his palms, his nails digging into his skin.

His jaw clenched. His breathing slowed.

“And you know what?” You let out a bitter laugh, eyes glassy. “You are right. This is my fault. Because I let you do it. I let all of this happen.” Your voice cracked, but you kept going, pushing the knife in deeper. “I loved you. I fell so fucking deep that I couldn’t even pull myself back up.”

That’s when he noticed—

You were packing.

You weren’t just throwing words at him, trying to wound him.

You were leaving.

You grabbed your phone, your wallet, a small pouch, only the essentials. Because you weren’t planning to come back.

The thought made his vision blur with rage.

Something inside him snapped.

His breathing turned eerily calm. The thick mask he had been wearing, the patient, loving, understanding Jungkook you thought you knew, shattered in an instant.

"You think you can just leave like that?"

His voice was soft, almost tender. But it sent ice down your spine.

You froze, fingers gripping your bag. When your gaze met his, your whole body tensed.

He took a slow step forward. Then another. But he stopped midway, slipping his hands into his pockets like he had all the time in the world.

"After everything I’ve done for us—" his lips curled into something twisted, "you think I’m going to let you walk away that easily?"

He let out a quiet chuckle. Low. Cold.

Your breath hitched.

And then he saw it—

The way your eyes darted to the door. The way you shifted ever so slightly, like you were ready to bolt.

He tilted his head, gaze darkening.

"Why are you stepping back?" His voice dropped even lower. "Are you scared?"

You didn’t answer.

His smirk widened, his steps slow and deliberate as he closed in on you.

He backed you into the wall, trapping you in place.

"Because you should be."

Jungkook's grip on reality was slipping, but he didn’t care.

He loved you.

Loved you so much that if keeping you meant becoming the villain in your story, then so be it. If he had to be the bad guy to make you stay, he’d do it without hesitation.

His lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

“Is this what your friends planted in your head?” His voice was calm, too calm. Each word rolled off his tongue deliberately, like he was savoring them. “They’ll say anything, won’t they? Whisper the nastiest things to break us apart because they don’t understand. They don’t matter in this relationship.”

He took a slow step backward.

"That’s why I didn’t want you around them in the first place.” His tone was gentle, almost affectionate, but the weight of his words was suffocating. “The more time you spend with them, the more they poison your thoughts. Filling that pretty little head of yours with lies.”

Jungkook sighed, shaking his head like he was disappointed.

“But you just had to be stubborn. Kept pushing my buttons. And now look where we are.”

His gaze flickered down to your parted lips, to the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard. He move closer to you once again and leaned in just enough to catch the way your pupils dilated.

His smirk widened.

“So yes,” he whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction. “This is your fault.”

You flinched.

He saw the way your body trembled, the way your fingers curled into your palms like you were trying to steady yourself. But what made him really grin, what sent a shiver of satisfaction down his spine, was the quick, fleeting glance you threw at the door.

You were considering running.

How cute.

A quiet chuckle left his lips as he watched you inch back, your breathing shallow, your mind scrambling for an escape.

Too bad.

You weren’t going anywhere.

Jungkook tilted his head, watching you with something between amusement and disbelief.

“I can’t believe you’re still thinking of leaving when you have nowhere else to go.” His voice was light, almost teasing, as if the idea of you escaping was a joke.

Then, without warning, he ripped the phone from your hand and tossed it across the room. The sharp crack echoed as it shattered against the floor.

Your breath hitched. “Jungkook, please. You’re scaring me.”

But he wasn’t listening.

He grabbed your laptop from the coffee table, eyes dark with something unhinged, and in one swift motion, hurled it against the wall. The device split in two on impact.

You screamed.

Your breath hitched as you stared at the shattered remnants of your phone and laptop. The metallic clatter of destruction echoed in the room, but it was the eerie silence that followed that made your blood run cold. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The only sound was the erratic pounding of your heart.

Jungkook exhaled slowly, his eyes locked onto yours with a satisfaction that made your stomach twist.

It was done.

There was no turning back now.

His fingers twitched at his sides before he took a step forward, closing the distance between you two. You flinched, instinctively stepping back until your legs hit the edge of the bed.

“You don’t need them anymore,” Jungkook murmured, voice dangerously soft. “I’m all you need.”

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “Y-you… you didn’t have to do that.”

He tilted his head, watching you, drinking in your helplessness like it was a drug. “I did,” he said simply as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Now, there’s nothing left to come between us.”

You wanted to scream, to fight, but the weight of his words pressed down on you like an immovable force. There was no way out. No reaching for help. He had stripped you of everything, piece by piece until all that remained was him.

Jungkook reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek, a mockery of affection in the way he cradled your face. “You’re mine,” he whispered, the words sinking deep into your skin, your bones. His grip tightened just enough to make your breath hitch. “Say it.”

You trembled, lips parting, but no words came. A flicker of something dark passed through his eyes before he crushed his mouth against yours.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was raw and possessive, his lips crashing against yours with bruising force. You struggled, hands pushing against his chest, but he was stronger.

“J-Jungkook, no—”

“You’re mine, Y/N.” His breath was hot against your lips, his grip unrelenting. “You’re fucking mine, and no one will ever have you but me.”

His mouth trailed down to your neck, teeth grazing over your skin before he sucked harshly, marking you like a brand.

You fought. You squirmed. But he didn’t care.

Because in that moment, the last of his carefully crafted mask shattered.

This was him. The real him.

And now, you finally saw it.

You had seen glimpses before, but you ignored them, forced yourself to believe they were nothing. That he was nothing more than a man who loved too much.

You were wrong.

You had unknowingly created a monster. A monster that could no longer be controlled.

And now, it was too late.

Because every path that once led to freedom was gone, every exit sealed shut.

And you were trapped.

Trapped in the darkness with him.

As he pulled away, he wiped a stray tear from your face, his smile almost gentle. “That’s my good girl.”

The finality in his voice made your stomach drop. There was no escaping him.

Not now. Not ever.

-end-

I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoy writing it! This was supposed to be a one-shot, but when I started writing, it turned into a two-shot lmao. And just when I was about to finish it, I thought about making it a three-shot, but then I realized it wasn't really necessary hahaha

If you have any comments or suggestions to help improve my writing, please don't hesitate to let me know. Thank you!

taglist: @llallaaa @strawberryberrygirl @taekritimin123 @minimoninini @lachimolalajeon @jincapableoflove @jenniebyrubies @sunshineishopejihyo @kooayu

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the-oblivious-writer · 2 days ago

Text

The Perfect Girl

Jackie Taylor x Implied Fem!Reader

One-Shot

Summary: You and Jackie - your ever so lovely girlfriend - share precious stolen moments away from prying eyes in your very bedroom.

Warning(s): Intimate scenes/implied smut, innuendos, pre-crash/no crash au (up for interpretation), and underage substance use (marijuana)

Notes: How are we doing after ep 4? Yeah. Figured.

The smoke hangs lazy in the afternoon air of your bedroom, curling around the shafts of golden light filtering through half-drawn blinds. Robert Smith's voice floats from your record player—the one your dad gave you for your sixteenth birthday with strict instructions to "treat the vinyl with respect, for God's sake." You'd promised, never imagining that one day you'd be using his precious sound system to provide the soundtrack for making out with Jackie Taylor.

Jackie—varsity soccer captain, homecoming queen nominee, and the girl whose public image couldn't be further from this moment: her perfect hair mussed beyond repair, wearing nothing but your oversized Sonic Youth t-shirt and a pair of lacy underwear that had made your brain short-circuit when you first saw them.

"You're staring again," she murmurs, taking another hit from the joint you'd been passing back and forth. Her eyes are slightly red-rimmed, her smile looser than the one she wears in the school hallways.

"Can you blame me?" You prop yourself up on your elbows, drinking in the sight of her. "Do you have any idea how many people would lose their minds if they could see Jackie Taylor right now?"

She rolls her eyes, but you catch the pleased flush creeping up her neck. "Please. I'm hardly centerfold material."

"You're right," you agree solemnly. "You're much better."

The way she looks at you then—half-exasperated, half-adoring—makes your chest ache with how much you love her. A year and a half of sneaking around, of stolen moments between classes and elaborate excuses to your respective friend groups, and sometimes you still can't believe she's yours.

"Come here," you say, making grabby hands at her.

Jackie raises an eyebrow, taking her time with another drag before passing the joint back to you. "Demanding much?" But she moves toward you anyway, settling onto your lap with the practiced ease of someone who's been there countless times before.

"Pictures of You" starts playing, and Jackie groans, dropping her forehead against yours. "God, not this song. It's so sad."

"It's romantic," you argue, running your hands up her bare thighs, delighting in the goosebumps that rise in their wake.

"It's about loss," she counters. Her fingers toy with the collar of your shirt, brushing against your collarbone in a way that makes it hard to concentrate on the philosophical debate about Cure lyrics.

"It's about love," you insist, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "How everything fades but photographs and memories."

Jackie pulls back just enough to study your face, her expression caught between amusement and something deeper. "Since when did you become the romantic one? I thought that was my role."

"Don't worry," you laugh, hands now resting on her hips, thumbs tracing slow circles against the fabric of her borrowed shirt. "Your title as 'most likely to cry during romantic comedies' remains unchallenged."

"That was one time!" she protests, but she's laughing too. "And 'The Princess Bride' is emotional terrorism."

"Whatever you say, captain."

Her eyes narrow playfully. "You know, for someone who's currently enjoying the privileges of having me on their lap, you're being awfully snarky."

"Privileges, huh?" You raise an eyebrow, feeling bold from the weed and the warmth of her against you. "And what privileges might those be?"

Jackie's smile turns wicked, a side of her no one at Wiskayok High ever sees except you. She leans down until her lips brush your ear. "Play your cards right, and you might find out."

A shiver runs through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. "I've always been good at cards."

"Hmm," she hums, unconvinced. "Is that why you lost twenty bucks to Shauna at poker night?"

"That was—" you splutter, indignant. "Shauna cheats! She has that whole quiet, innocent act down to a science."

Jackie laughs, the sound lighter than the carefully modulated one she uses at school. This laugh is just for you—unfiltered, slightly too loud, and utterly perfect.

"My point," she says, "is that you might need to work on your bluffing skills."

"I don't need to bluff with you," you say, suddenly serious despite the pleasant haze of the high. "Never have."

Something in her expression softens, the armor she wears so carefully around everyone else slipping away entirely. These are the moments you treasure most—when Jackie is just Jackie, not the perfect student, not the soccer star, not Jeff's sometimes-girlfriend (a convenient cover you both agreed on, with his reluctant cooperation).

"No," she agrees quietly. "You don't."

You reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she leans into your touch like a cat seeking affection. It still amazes you sometimes, how different she is in these private moments—how the Jackie Taylor who intimidated you during your first soccer practice freshman year transformed into the girl who now melts at your simplest touches.

"Remember when Coach Martinez paired us for drills that first day?" you ask, thinking back to how it all began. "And you told me my footwork was 'almost adequate'?"

Jackie groans, hiding her face in your neck. "Can we please not relive my bitch phase?"

"It was kind of hot, actually," you admit, laughing when she pinches your side in retaliation. "What? It was! All commanding and authoritative."

"You're deranged," she says, but she's smiling against your skin.

"Maybe. But you're the one who cornered me in the equipment shed two weeks later."

"Because you kept looking at me with those eyes!" She sits up, gesturing dramatically. "All... intense and stuff. It was distracting."

"My sincerest apologies for having eyes and using them to look at the prettiest girl on the field."

Jackie rolls her eyes, but you can tell she's pleased. She's always been a sucker for compliments, especially the earnest ones.

"Smooth talker," she accuses, before leaning down to press her lips against yours.

The kiss starts slow, languid with the unhurried confidence of people who know each other's bodies by heart. Your hands find their way under her shirt—your shirt—fingers tracing the dip of her spine, the curve of her ribs. She sighs into your mouth, shifting on your lap in a way that makes you both gasp.

"You know," you murmur against her lips, "we have the house to ourselves for at least three more hours."

Jackie pulls back just enough to look at you, her pupils dilated from more than just the weed. "Is that your subtle way of saying we should move this to a more horizontal position?"

"I was actually thinking we could finish our calculus homework," you deadpan. "You know how I get turned on by derivatives."

She snorts, an undignified sound that she'd be mortified to let slip in front of anyone else. "You're such a nerd."

"Says the girl with a 4.0 GPA."

"That's different," she insists, tracing a finger down your sternum. "I'm academically gifted. You're a genuine weirdo who reads physics books for fun."

"Only sometimes," you defend yourself. "And they have pretty pictures of space."

Jackie shakes her head, a fond smile playing at her lips. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I can think of a few things," you suggest, waggling your eyebrows in an exaggerated way that makes her laugh again.

"Can you now?" she challenges, and then she's leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time, with an urgency that makes your head spin.

Your hands drift higher under her shirt, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She makes a soft noise against your mouth that sends heat pooling low in your belly. One of her hands tangles in your hair, the other bracing against your shoulder for leverage as she rocks against you.

When you break apart for air, her lips immediately find your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point. It's your turn to gasp, head falling back to give her better access.

"Jackie," you breathe, hands now gripping her hips tightly.

She smiles against your skin, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Yes?"

"The record's about to end."

She pulls back, blinking at you in confusion before her brow furrows in annoyance. "Seriously? That's what you're thinking about right now?"

You can't help but laugh at her indignation. "I just thought you might want some more mood music."

"The mood," she says, deliberately shifting on your lap in a way that makes your breath catch, "is doing just fine without Robert Smith's help."

"Fair point," you concede, voice slightly strained. "But you were the one who insisted we needed The Cure specifically for our afternoon delinquency session."

"That was before you started doing that thing with your hands," she counters, leaning in to nip at your bottom lip. "Now I couldn't care less about the soundtrack."

The needle reaches the end of the record, the soft scratching sound barely registering through the haze of desire clouding your brain.

"Besides," Jackie adds, her voice dropping to a whisper as she brings her lips to your ear. "I'd rather listen to the sounds you make when I do this."

Her hands slip beneath your shirt, and suddenly the lack of music is the furthest thing from your mind.

Later, much later, when you're both lying tangled in your sheets, catching your breath, Jackie props herself up on one elbow to look down at you.

"You know," she says, tracing patterns on your bare shoulder, "we won't have to hide next year."

The thought sends a rush of warmth through you that has nothing to do with physical pleasure. College, away from Wiskayok's judgmental eyes and rigid social hierarchies. A place where Jackie won't have to pretend to be someone she's not, where you can walk across campus holding her hand without calculating who might see.

"I can't wait," you say honestly.

Something vulnerable flickers across her face. "You won't get tired of me once I'm not your dirty little secret anymore?"

The question surprises you. Jackie's always so confident, so sure of herself and what she wants. But sometimes, in these quiet moments, you get glimpses of the insecurities she hides from everyone else.

"Are you kidding?" You reach up to cup her cheek. "I've been counting down the days until I can show you off properly."

Her smile is small but genuine, relief softening the tension you hadn't even noticed in her shoulders.

"Besides," you add, unable to resist, "I've invested too much time teaching you good music taste to abandon you now."

She gasps in mock outrage, grabbing a pillow to smack you with it. "Excuse you! I knew who The Cure was before I met you!"

"Name three albums," you challenge, laughing as you try to fend off her pillow attack.

"Disintegration," she says immediately, punctuating it with another swing of the pillow. "Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me. And... uh..."

"That's what I thought," you tease, finally capturing the pillow and tossing it aside so you can pull her down for another kiss.

Against your lips, she murmurs, "You're lucky you're cute."

"I'm lucky, period," you respond honestly, and the softness that returns to her eyes makes your heart flip over in your chest.

The Cure may have stopped playing hours ago, but as Jackie settles against you, her head tucked under your chin, you think Robert Smith would approve of this particular love song—the one written in the rhythm of your synchronized heartbeats and the promise of a future where hiding is no longer necessary.

#jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor x y/n #jackie taylor #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #ella purnell #ella purnell x reader

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teenidlegirl · 3 days ago

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⠀✸⠀⠀𝓑𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝓞𝐅 𝓣𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝓜𝐄𝐒𝐒⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟏⠀﹚⠀ა ︎ ﾞ .

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀you’re nine months pregnant and your baby could arrive at any moment. you and miguel are excited until he’s called back for a dangerous mission, left to deal with the hardest decision ever, leaving you and the baby.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀angst, some fluff, pregnancy, heartbreak, arguments, emotional distress, firearms, mentions of violence, mentions of death, military shenanigans, sorta hurt/comfort

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter⠀ ❜

time has passed and you’re 9 months pregnant and your due date is three weeks away. while feeling utterly exhausted, you and miguel are excited for your daughter to come and start your life as a family. everything is prepared when the time comes. hospital bag filled with everything you need, nursery set up looking pretty for your baby girl, the entire apartment is baby-proof which was miguel’s doing. until you find another apartment or a house, which miguel has been house-hunting for months now, your apartment will be your home for your little family. you two couldn’t be more excited for this.

you, especially, are excited to pop out this baby because damn you are tired as hell. you told miguel no more babies after your first because pregnancy is exhausting. well, at least no more babies for a long time since who knows if you and miguel wish to have more in the future. he can’t blame you after seeing the exhaustion on your face during these last few months. but for right now, this baby is all you need and you can’t wait to meet her.

“i just realized we don’t have a name yet.”

you and miguel sit outside the patio of your apartment, sunbathing while enjoying a bowl of fruit. you wear a simple periwinkle babydoll dress with daisies, your large baby bump sticks out adorably in it. the bowl of fruit rests on top of your belly as a table, a tiny plastic bowl of course, easier to eat from. your legs rests comfortably on miguel’s lap as his large, calloused hands caressed them.

“oh, you’re right. we haven’t thought about one.” his brows furrowed slightly, thinking as miguel takes a few grapes from the bowl.

“all this time, three weeks until she’s born and we still haven’t thought of a name for her.” you giggle, munching on a few of your favorite fruits.

miguel huffs, grinning. “great parents, huh?”

you think as you feed him a strawberry. “any ideas?”

he ponders for a moment of possible names but nothing comes to mind. “not really, ¿tú?”

no ideas popped in your mind. “nope.”

“what about your name?”

you wipe off that smirk on his stupid handsome face by feeding him another strawberry.

“we’re not following that damn hispanic tradition of naming your first kid after you.”

miguel chuckles at your bluntness. “just an idea.”

“my sister wasn’t named after my mom because she hates her name and didn’t want to do that to my sister so we’re gonna do the same thing.”

“you hate your name?” one of his thick brows arched.

“well… no. i didn’t say that! there’s one person in this family with my name and that’s me.”

that elicits another chuckle from him. “i’m just messing with you, bebé. but i love your name.” he leans forward and leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

you roll your eyes, shyly smiling. “thanks.”

while munching on fresh fruit, no name ideas popped in either of your heads.

“ugh! why is it so difficult to come up with a name?” you slouch in your seat grumpily.

“we still have time, we’ll figure out something.” miguel reassures you, rubbing your swollen belly. “don’t stress about it, okay? it’s not good for both of you. it’ll come to us one day.”

a sigh escapes your lips. “hopefully.”

another kiss on your forehead. “for now it’ll be princesa.” his hand caresses your swollen tummy which results a kick from your baby. “she likes it.”

you hum happily, leaning against him. “i love it when you call her that, it melts my heart.”

his arm wraps around your shoulders, embracing you comfortably as his other hand grabs the bowl from on top of your belly and holds it. “i’m glad to know. she is mi princesa y tú mi reina.”

you lift your head up and look at him with a loving smile. “té quiero, mi osito.”

miguel’s heart flutters every time you call him that. you consider him your big teddy bear and he loves it. resting the fruit bowl beside him on the sofa, his hand gingerly cups your face as he leans closer and captures your lips in a gentle, loving kiss. your hand does the same and cup his cheek. the kiss is interrupted by a faint kick in your tummy.

you pull away with a giggle, caressing his cheek. “every time we kiss, she always kicks.”

“maybe she’s happy that her parents are in love.” a silly grin plastered on his face.

“they are and her parents love her.”

you and miguel go in for another kiss, resulting in another faint kick. you agree with miguel, your baby girl is happy that her parents love each other. you want nothing more than your daughter to grow up with loving parents and who love each other, to demonstrate a loving relationship.

later in the evening, you and miguel just finished having dinner. tonight was ravioli, a craving of yours which miguel had no problem making. he loves cooking for you, one of his many acts of service. you also love his cooking, he could be a chef as a side job. you told miguel once that he should have his own cooking show. he laughed and said that you should be the one with a cooking show, he adores your cooking. maybe a couple cooking show.

you rest on the couch watching a movie while miguel cleans up the kitchen. the man won’t let you touch or lift anything, just like throughout your entire pregnancy but is even more insistent about it since you could pop at any moment. in the beginning you were against it but not so much anymore considering your basketball sized tummy. besides, you get to watch your boyfriend maneuver around. admiring those bulging muscles ripple as he moves. biceps, shoulders, back, thighs. all so scrumptious.

once the dishes were washed and stored away, miguel makes a quick visit to the bathroom but not before leaving a kiss on your forehead then finally making his way over there. after doing his business and while washing his hands, he feels his phone vibrating in his back pocket. quickly drying his hands with a towel, miguel reached behind with a hand, grabs his phone and sees who’s calling.

‘IRONHEAD’

flash is calling him and that’s not a good sign. there are only two reason why he would call him: either for a mission or get-together with the team. miguel really hopes it is the second option even though he isn’t in the mood to go out, not with you about to give birth soon and he told the guys that.

exhaling deeply, miguel presses the green button and brings up the phone to his ear. it was a very long, hectic conversation. frustrated groans, mumbling, and swear words thrown around. it was so long that you eventually got worried since he has never taken that long in the bathroom. miguel knew you would eventually make your way over here. finally, he hangs up and heads back to the living room with not so good news hanging heavily on his shoulders.

you’re about to get up until miguel enters the room. the relief smile on your face falters when you notice his anxious expression. thick brows furrowed and eyes filled with apprehension.

“what’s wrong?” now your brows furrowed.

another long, deep breath of anxiety escapes his lips. “we need to talk about something…”

suddenly, your heart starts beating fast with anxiety. oh that isn’t good and honestly you’re scared. the moment miguel sits down next to you, the tension settles in. thick, heavy, and unsettling. both of you are nervous wrecks but miguel is more anxious since he’s about to tell you the worse news imaginable. he can already envision the tears of anger and frustration that will soon come in a few seconds.

“flash called me…” miguel starts off, his hand seeking yours and gently holds it. god, he feels like dying of anxiety. too afraid to speak the truth but mainly your reaction and where this conversation goes. “there’s a mission that i can’t back out.”

your brows furrowed a bit more. a mission, okay. the man is in the military, it’s bound for missions to come up. however, they can vary and the apprehension on miguel’s face say this isn’t an ordinary mission.

a shaky breath escapes his lips as miguel prepares to spill the unfortunate news of all.

“it’s in south america and… i don’t know long it’s gonna take and i have to fly out tomorrow.”

you feel your heart drop so suddenly. a plague of anxiety invades your veins completely, coursing through your body so viciously.

“t-tomorrow? what do you mean tomorrow?” you panic. “you can’t leave, not right now.”

“i know, baby, i know.” miguel squeezed your hand reassuringly, his heart breaking at your panic state. “i don’t want to leave either but i can’t back out on this, i have no choice—”

“you do have a choice!” you stand up abruptly, as much as you can due to your heavy tummy. “you don’t have to leave, miguel! you can’t leave!”

his heart continues breaking. “mi reina, siéntate por favor.” miguel tries to reach out for your hand to calm you down but you back away from his attempt.

“no, miguel! you can’t leave! she’s almost here and you’re leaving?! i need you here! she needs you here!”

he knew it would reach to this breaking point. you panicking, crying, and begging to him to stay. each cry is a stab to his heart. miguel hates seeing you cry, especially when he is the reason for it.

miguel stands up, a remorseful look in his eyes. desperate to reach out and pull you back into his arms. “mi reina, i know. i want nothing more than to stay here with you and be here for you and our daughter. i don’t wanna leave you two, it’s the last thing i want and i fucking hate leaving you. i told flash no many times, that i refuse to go. he understood, he and the guys don’t want to do this either but command left us with no choice and said the mission won’t be successful without me.”

all you do is keep shaking your head no, refusing to believe this is happening. the love of your life, the father of your child is leaving you for god knows how long before the birth of your daughter. suddenly, it feels like your world is crumbling. everything is crashing down like a paper plane. one minute you were enjoying fresh fruit and sunbathing while discussing possible baby names, then your boyfriend has to leave you and your baby for a mission in another fucking country for an unknown amount of time. how the fuck did things change so drastically?

“no, you can’t.” you keep shaking your head in denial as tears spill uncontrollably. “you can’t leave. she’s almost here, miguel. she’s almost here and i can’t do this alone, please don’t do this.”

miguel’s heart continues breaking immensely at the sight of your tears. it triggers his own tears to fall. “lo siento, mi reina. lo siento mucho.” he attempts to reach out for your hand and you don’t fight back, bringing you closer to him into his hold.

“miguel, por favor.” you look up at him with pleading, glossy eyes. “please don’t leave me… not again…”

fuck, that shatters his heart completely.

he left you once, broke your heart, broke your trust, and he forever hated himself for that. now miguel has to do the one thing he swore to leave do again, only this time he had no choice. now he hates being in the military. he has to leave you and it fucking hurts, especially to leave you when your baby will arrive soon. miguel doesn’t want to miss the birth of his daughter. he needs to be there for her, for you.

why did it have to be now?

at this moment, he hated being in the military.

“lo siento mucho, mi reina.” his calloused hands gently cup your face and wipe your never-ending tears. “i don’t wanna leave you and our baby. not again, mi reina. i’m so so sorry…”

your apartment is filled with the sounds of your sobs. both of you are crying at this moment. you completely break down and miguel doesn’t hesitate to pull you to his chest and embrace you tightly, feeling your trembling figure in his arms. afraid to let you go, doesn’t ever want to let you go.

the rest of the night was a sobbing catastrophe. the four walls of your apartment concealed with your heartbroken sobs and pleads.

what if he doesn’t come back?

what if he’s killed in combat?

what if, instead of celebrating the birth of your daughter, you are mourning the death of your boyfriend?

the excitement of becoming a family now ruined.

the day you and miguel have been dreading has come. the day he leaves for south america. since you’ve been crying all night, you feel utterly exhausted besides feeling depressed. you sat there in bed all miserable watching miguel pack up and get ready for his departure. every time your eyes meet, miguel had a guilty, remorseful expression. it pained him to see how miserable you looked. those tearful eyes silently begging him to stay, stop packing, dive back into bed with you, and stay with you forever. miguel hated this just as much as you do.

despite how much he hates to leave you, there is only one person miguel trusts to take care of you while he’s gone. he contacted his mother and ask her to stay here with you until he returns. the woman did not hesitate to agree and make her way over. you didn’t bother to argue, too busy being miserable. but truth be told, you actually don’t mind conchata staying here and helping out. you would love to spend more time with her, you know she’d do anything for you and the baby. she’s pretty much your mother-in-law. you agree with the plan. however, you still wish for miguel to stay.

through teary tears, you watch miguel return from the bathroom clad in all black attire. even feeling miserable, he still manages to take your breath away. he approaches the nightstand, opens the drawer, and takes out his pistol that he keeps here ever since he’s been staying at your place. protection purposes of course. miguel won’t take any risks, especially when it comes you and the baby. no harm has come yet the man is accustomed to securing and protecting. after checking the clip of ammo and putting the safety on, miguel shoves the pistol in the back of his pants and covers it with his shirt. his eyes meet yours once again but this time you look away, concealing the tears already spilling. his heart aches every time, so much guilt plaguing his body.

eventually, conchata arrives to see the heartbreaking sight in front of her. her son prepared to leave for another dangerous mission and her future daughter-in-law silently crying. you and miguel are in the living room by the time she gets there. she greets her eldest with a hug and kiss before approaching you.

“oh mija…” she gently pulls you into a tight, comforting embrace which you accept immediately and softly sob into her shoulder.

miguel observed solemnly, heartbroken for you and dreading his departure. he really doesn’t want to go, not to leave you crying and begging for him. he didn’t want this yet he was left with no choice. the ringing from his phone snaps him out of those depressing thoughts. a text message from flash saying he and the guys are here waiting in the car outside.

it’s time to leave, unfortunately.

breaking your embrace, conchata gives your arms a comforting rub with a soft reassuring smile before walking over to say goodbye to her son. miguel embraces his mother, exhaling deeply.

“té amo mucho, mijo. lo prometo. cuídate mucho, mijo, por favor.” she glances up at him. “make sure to come back to your family.”

you and your daughter. his beautiful family.

miguel silently promises to not allow his mother to lose another son, to not leave you a widow and single mother, to not leave his daughter without a father.

he will come back, he’ll make sure of it.

“lo prometo, mamá. té amo.” he plants a kiss on her scalp and embraces her one last time before he moves on to you, conchata stepping aside and turning around to give you both privacy.

instinctively, your head starts shaking as tears swell in your eyes for the nth time. “please don’t go…” you grip onto his shirt as if you’re terrified to let him go.

his heart continues to shatter. “lo siento, mi reina.” miguel’s strong arms wrap around you and hold you close to him, as much as your swollen belly allows you which is lightly pressed against his abs. “i promise to come back to you and our baby. i swear it, mi amor. i will come back to you both.”

his sincere words make you break down uncontrollably. you know miguel will do everything he can to come back home to you and the baby. you know he doesn’t want to leave as much as you do. you sob into his chest as his arms tighten around you, holding your trembling form. one last hug before he disappears for who knows how long. one last time to be with each other before parting ways.

miguel leans down, you reach up and capture each other’s lips for one final kiss. a kiss that you wish it could last forever. calloused hands gingerly cup your face. you grip onto his wrists tightly, afraid to let him go. savoring this one final kiss, savoring the taste of each other before drifting away. miguel gives you one last kiss then kneels in front of your swollen tummy and adorns it with loving kisses. your fingers gently brush through those soft brown curls one last time.

“i promise to come back to you, mi princesa.” he whispers against your belly, earning a faint kick which makes you both smile sadly. rising to his full height towering you, he cups your cheek. “i’ll come back to you, mi reina. té quiero tanto.”

“té quiero.” you desperately reach out to tug on his dog tags and bring him down for another final kiss which is sadly interrupted by miguel’s phone ringing, making him groan in frustration.

miguel whispers you a final ‘i love you’ before parting ways and grabbing his black duffle bag from the kitchen counter. you start sobbing more as you watch him preparing to leave. conchata turns around and approached you with open arms. sighing heavily, miguel turns around to look at you both one last time with a remorseful expression before opening the door and walking out, closing it behind him. you broke down once again as you watch the love of your life leave for the second time. conchata brings you into her arms and embraces you deeply as you sob. the four walls of your little apartment conceal the heartbroken sound of your sobs and wails.

your life is changed once again by a unfortunate incident. however, this time hurt much more.

that same guilty, agitated expression never faltered as miguel geared up and sit in his seat of the helicopter. his clothes covered with tactical gear. bulletproof vest, tactical helmet with night vision goggles attached, another pair of goggles that are ballistic meant for eye protection, his pistol as a secondary weapon stored the holster strapped on his right thigh, and additional equipment. a rifle in his hands while waiting for takeoff.

the rest of the squad are strapped in. flash next to miguel, ben and kaine seated across from them. as the engine starts, flash notices miguel’s somber expression which causes him to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. miguel flinched at the contact but immediately recognizes his teammate.

“you’ll make it back to her, both of them.” the blonde gives his teammate’s shoulder a light pat.

miguel sighs heavily, lowering his head with a head shake. “i feel fucking terrible leaving her. leaving at the worst fucking time imaginable.”

the blonde frowns remorsefully. “i know man, i gave command shit but of course they don’t give a fuck. lets just hope this shit isn’t a long one and you’ll be back in time before your kid comes.”

the brunette simply nods. miguel really hopes he’ll be back in time before the baby is born so he can be there for you when the day comes. sitting by your side, holding your hand in his as you welcome your daughter into the world. a dream he wants to come true. he’ll do anything to make it come true.

“appreciate it, ironhead.”

flash pats his shoulder a once again. “always, man.”

the helicopter finally takes off and the men’s journey to south america begins. throughout the flight, miguel only thinks about you. never once you left his mind. he knows you’re struggling with his departure but his mother is there to care for you. he knows you’re safe and being taken care of. but the guilt still lingers in his heart. he would rather be at home with you than stuck on this damn helicopter. however, miguel will do whatever he can to come home to you.

he won’t disappear forever this time.

𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee @demonic-bird @fandomtrash5092 ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

#⠀꒰⠀𝜗𝜚 ֺ 𓂂⠀꒱⠀﹕⠀ℬ𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝒪𝑓 𝒯ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℳ𝑒𝑠𝑠⠀.ᐟ⠀#miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #military!miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #across the spiderverse

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majestyeverlasting · 3 days ago

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𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

summary joel comes to pick you up from work, and after soaking up the night's energy for a short while, you finally let him take you home [fluff, kissing, 1.1k]

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．

There’s something different about the way he walks into a room these days. A gentleness as his eyes comb through the space to familiarize himself, not size up those in it. Tonight, Maverick’s buzzes with people desperate to forget the work week that now lies behind them. They laugh and drink and embrace the live music as it flows from the stage to wash their worries away.

Joel expertly navigates through the crowd with a gruff string of excuse me’s and thank you’s. He'll never know whether they make way because of his manners or the broadness of his frame. From behind the bar, you watch him cross through a frenetic sea of patrons that part with every few steps he takes. The surrendered look on his face suggests that if he were twenty years younger, he’d allot time to work the room instead of having a one-track mind with a pin set on you.

It’s not lost on him that your smile grows wider as he sits on the barstool before you. The chair creaks under his weight, but it’s a slight sound you have to strain to hear. He’s more interested in how the overhead lights bathe your skin in their warm glow.

There’s a quiet knowing between you, a familiarity that doesn’t need words to prove itself true. The moment he places his interlocked hands on the counter in front of himself, you brush your fingers over his knuckles before turning away. Upon your return, you place a bottle of Lone Star in front of him, condensation rolling down the sides. You twist the cap off for him.

Joel nods curtly. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.” There’s a sparkle in your eyes.

Joel raises the beer to his lips to quell his smile. You admire how his large hand nearly consumes the bottle. How Adam’s apple bobs with each steady sip. When he sets it back down, you tilt your head in a way that makes his smile bloom anyway. He gives up on trying to hide it, and you’re glad it’s a short-lived fight. The lines on his face become more pronounced, but he looks years younger.

You cross your arms over your chest. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Joel commits the lilt of your voice to memory like he has countless times since meeting you a couple months ago. Each time, the note is different. A little kinder, a little fonder.

“Should be criminal hiding a smile like that.”

“Thought you said you got off at six,” he changes the subject. “That was ten minutes ago.”

“I did,” you say.

Joel tracks you as you saunter from behind the bar to join him on the opposite side.

“Figured if I lingered, it’d coax you out the parking lot.” You fix a rouge strand of his silver-streaked hair as an excuse to trace the shell of his ear and make him shiver.

“This seat taken?” You climb onto the stool beside him before he can answer.

“Was sitting out there wasting my gas ‘cause of you.” He’s willing to waste way more than that.

“My sincerest apologies.” You give his thigh an affectionate squeeze.

A month ago, Joel would’ve graciously pushed your hand away because of the thought of too many eyes. Too many trains of thought that could derail full steam ahead in the wrong direction. He learned from his father to keep his cards close to his chest—good hand or bad. In the end, all that mattered was how he deciphered their potential and chose to play them. But letting the world in was inevitable, and inevitability wasn’t always so bad.

Joel takes another sip of his beer, this time to distract from the absentminded way you run your hand along his thigh, back and forth over his denim jeans. He wishes your touch was against his skin. You’ve always been so gentle that he’s begun to consider the possibility he could break after all.

You briefly perk up in interest when the band starts playing a new song.

“We gonna sit here all night, or can I go ahead and take you home?”

“What’s the rush?”

“There ain’t one.” Life and patience are one and the same. “It’s just loud. A lot going on.” The type of scene that fueled him once upon a time.

“We seem to be hearing each other just fine,” you say lightly. “One more song, okay?”

Joel hums low in agreement.

Thankfully, you hold fast to your promise. As the closing chord hums throughout the room, you stand and lead Joel out of the bar with one of his large hands at the small of your back. A few other patrons file out alongside you while others file in.

Outside, as the Maverick’s sign glows bright, fluorescent red, the warm air is a welcome surprise. It’d been cooler the last few nights, and now there’s no need to hug your arms and walk swifter. Even though there are plenty of open spaces, you spot his charcoal f-150 parked further away than most cars.

“How’d you know I needed to get more steps in?” You playfully peek back at him as he walks a few paces behind.

When you’re seconds away from opening the passenger door, Joel rests a steady hand on your hip and uses it as leverage to turn you around. No sooner does his large frame crowd into your space until your back meets the metal of his truck. Every move is careful and intentional. Not a single second passes where he isn’t gauging your reaction. Ready to course correct on a dime.

When a surprised smile curls at your lips, he dips his head down to kiss it away with a tenderness that aches. Joel’s beard is a welcomed brush against your skin. A pleasant weight settles low in your gut like a small stone finding its home at the bottom of a riverbed.

He cups your cheek with a calloused palm as his lips move against yours. He takes his time. Let’s himself enjoy the softness of your lips, the privilege of your proximity. It’s the most spontaneous he’s been in a while, but the moment washes over him so seamlessly he can pretend he’s this brave every night. Pretend that his inhibitions don’t take the reigns more often than not.

When he pulls away, his breaths fan over your lips as he looks down at you. There’s a palpable fondness in his gaze that makes you wish you could get lost in his dark eyes forever. He’s the constant you’ve been needing as life attempts to pull you every which way. Wise, strong, dependable.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmurs gruffly, thumbing gently along your lower lip.

The distant sound of rowdy laughter tethers you back to earth.

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all!

JOEL MASTERLIST

ALL MASTERLISTS

#older joel miller #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #older joel miller x reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal

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cursedcanon · 3 days ago

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BABY!!

how JJK men hold your newborn baby >:D

Characters: Gojo, Choso, Sakuna, Geto, Toji , Nanami, yuji and megumi

Gojo Satoru

Gojo holds the baby like he’s cradling a star — effortlessly, like it was always meant to fit in his arms. He tilts his head, squinting at the baby’s face with a mischievous grin.

“Are you sure this one’s ours?” he teases, glancing at you. “They’re way too cute. I thought they’d come out with sunglasses and an attitude.”

The baby stirs, letting out a soft noise, and Gojo’s playful demeanor falters. His eyes soften, and he presses a kiss to their tiny forehead.

“Hey, kid,” he whispers, voice barely above a breath. “I’m your dad.”

You smile, exhausted but happy. “They already have your dramatic entrance, Satoru. Did you hear how loud they were crying?”

Gojo gasps, feigning offense. “Loud? That was a declaration of power, babe.”

Choso

Choso doesn’t move for a solid minute after the baby is placed in his arms. He just stares, his brows furrowed like he’s trying to figure out a complex puzzle. He finally speaks, voice hushed.

“They’re... warm.”

He presses the baby gently against his chest, heart hammering. His fingers tremble as he strokes their back, and he swallows hard, as if holding back tears.

“I never thought I’d get to feel this,” he whispers, looking at you like he can’t believe it’s real.

You reach out to touch his hand, your voice soft. “You’re a natural, Choso. They already love you.”

His eyes fill with quiet determination. “I’ll protect them,” he promises, voice steady. “I’ll protect both of you.”

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna looks offended. He holds the baby at arm’s length, scowling like they’ve personally insulted him.

“This is it?” he grumbles, narrowing his eyes. “This tiny, squishy thing is what had you screaming for hours?”

The baby wiggles, yawning. Sukuna freezes. His scowl fades. Slowly, he brings the baby closer, letting them rest against his chest. His eyes linger on their face, and his voice drops to a low mutter.

“Tch. You better grow up strong,” he mutters. “I’m not raising some weakling.” But his hand stays steady, cradling the baby with surprising gentleness.

You chuckle weakly from the bed. “They already survived you holding them like a sack of rice. I’d say that counts as strong.”

Sukuna snorts, but his eyes don’t leave the baby’s face. “Maybe they’ve got potential after all.”

Geto Suguru

Geto immediately melts. He holds the baby like they’re made of silk, his eyes shining with warmth. He sways instinctively, rubbing slow circles on their back, completely captivated.

“They’re so peaceful,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against their forehead. “Like they know they’re loved already.”

He looks at you, a soft smile curving his lips. “We did good,” he whispers. “Really good.”

You wipe away a tear, your heart swelling. “They’re lucky to have you.”

Geto’s gaze doesn’t waver from the baby. “No,” he says softly. “I’m the lucky one.”

Toji Fushiguro

Toji stares down at the baby like he’s never seen anything like them before. He shifts his grip, holding them with careful precision, as if testing his own strength.

“You’re a tough one, huh?” he mutters, noticing how the baby grabs at his shirt with a weak but determined grip. He chuckles, low and rough, rubbing his thumb over their tiny fingers.

“Already fighting,” he smirks, eyes glinting with pride. “That’s my kid.”

You laugh tiredly, watching him. “Looks like they inherited your stubbornness.”

Toji grins, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Good. They’re gonna need it.”

Nanami Kento

Nanami holds the baby like he’s done it a thousand times, but the way he stares at their face tells a different story — like he can’t believe something this small and fragile is his. He traces their tiny fingers with his thumb, gaze soft and steady.

“You’re so... perfect,” he murmurs, voice thick with quiet reverence. “I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

You watch him, exhausted but smiling. “I think you worked hard enough to deserve a little luck, Kento.”

He glances at you, eyes filled with something so tender it makes your heart ache. “Maybe,” he whispers, looking back at the baby. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure I never lose it.”

Itadori Yuji

Yuji cradles the baby like he’s holding the most precious treasure in the world, eyes wide with wonder. He can’t stop smiling, rocking them gently as he talks nonstop.

“Hey, little guy,” he whispers, beaming. “I’m your dad. Isn’t that crazy? I still can’t believe it. You’re actually here.”

He chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye with his sleeve. “I promise I’m gonna be the best dad ever. We’re gonna play games, eat so much food, and I’ll protect you from anything bad, okay?”

The baby lets out a soft noise, and Yuji gasps like he’s just discovered magic. “Oh my God, they answered me.”

You laugh weakly, watching him. “Yuji, they just breathed.”

“I know,” he whispers, eyes shining. “And it was the best sound I’ve ever heard.”

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi looks like he’s in shock. He holds the baby like they’re made of glass, his jaw tense, eyes flicking between their face and their tiny, wriggling hands.

“What if I drop them?” he blurts out, frozen stiff. “Or — or hold them wrong? Or —”

The baby lets out a soft, content sigh and snuggles against his chest. Megumi goes silent. His entire body relaxes, and he stares down at them like they just erased every anxious thought in his head.

You watch quietly, voice gentle. “You’re doing fine, Megumi.”

He swallows, holding the baby a little closer. “Yeah,” he whispers, like he’s finally convinced. “I think... I think I am.”

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eternal-adoration · 3 days ago

Text

Summer mornings

A/N: Established relationship, fem!reader, Sukuna calls reader 'wife', not proofread

It was a peaceful summer morning.

The birds were chirping, the sun shone bright, and the breeze was refreshing. It truly was, the perfect morning.

Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light that was in the room. You sat up on the bed and stretched out your arms while letting out a yawn. "Goodmorning, Ryo!" You chirped while looking down at the towering figure of your husband laying on his side. His lower set of eyes opened first before he opened all of them, looking up at you.

The King of Curses clicked his tongue before his lower left hand went to grip your waist and pull you back down on the tatami mat

"It's too early for your chirping, wife."

The curse grumbled while his arms snaked around your form, keeping you close to his muscled frame. You looked up at your salmon haired husband, giving him a look to which he let out a huff and mumbled

"Good morning to you too, I s'pose."

A content smile creeped on your lips as you nodded in satisfaction, kissing his cheek before snuggling up closer to him.

Sukuna traced mindless patterns on your flesh, lost in the feeling of keeping you close and taking in your warmth and scent.

But not even a couple seconds later, and the door to your chambers burst open, followed by the giggling of a maniac. In the doorway stood your 6 year old twin boys, Hisota and Ryu.

Both of your children had 2 pairs of arms and eyes like their father, but they inherited your hair and eye color. Ryu, the youngest twin and the one who blasted the door off let out a joyful squeal as he ran to your side and jumped onto the tatami mat

"Mama! Mama! Goodmorning!"

Ryu got on his tippy toes to lean over and kiss your cheek. Meanwhile, Hisota, the more calmer twin, walked over to your bedside and kissed your cheek aswell

"Morning, mama."

Your husband let out a groan as he sat up on the bed, looking down at his spawns

"Oi, you little brats, it's too damn early for your nonsen-"

Sukuna's complaining was cut short as his youngest son threw a pillow into his face

"Move, dada! Is my turn now!"

Ryu, ever the little troublemaker, squeezed himself between you and Sukuna before hugging your side. Hisota climbed onto the bed as well, laying on top of you and hugging your stomach. You smiled down at your boys, kissing the tops of their heads as your heart swelled with your love for them

"Good morning Ryu, good morning Hisota."

Meanwhile, Sukuna removed the pillow from his face, gritting his teeth as he grabbed Ryu's ankle and dangled the boy upside down infront of him

"You little brat, I'll show you what happens with little boys who misbehave-"

Suddenly, Sukuna felt something digging into his skin. The King of Curses looked down at his own ankle. There, he saw his older son, Hisota, digging his teeth into it

The pink haired demon grabbed the boy's head and held him up in the air, a scoff leaving his lips

"You little brats, first you steal y'r mother from me, and now you betray y'r own father? Scandalous. I should've eaten you two the moment you left your mother's womb."

While Sukuna was scolding the twins, you got up from the bed and smacked his chest before taking Hisota and Ryu from his grasp

"You're being mean to them, 'Kuna."

Your husband frowned at that, crossing all four of his arms

"Me? Mean? I can show them how 'mean' their father can be."

You rolled your eyes at that, standing on your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth

"Don't be ridiculous. Now, time for breakfast."

The King of Curses let out a sigh before reluctantly picking Ryu up with his two left arms, leaving room to hold your free hand while looking down and kissing your forehead

"Hmph, fine then, wife."

However, Sukuna couldn't even properly kiss you before Ryu and Hisota both pointed their little fingers at their father and cried out

"EWWW!! DADA GAVE MAMA COOTIES!!"

"GOD DAMN IT YOU LITTLE BRATS-"

taglist: @ilovesukunamorethanmyself

return to Sukuna's domain?

#jjk #writers on tumblr #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #true form sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #true form sukuna fluff

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bloomries · 22 hours ago

Note

Hey hey! I hope you’re doing well! I absolutely ADORE your “calling them husband” thing, it’s SO cute! Would you be up to doing similar for the other dateables? (So like… Dia, Barb, Simeon, and Solomon?) if not that’s totally chill too, but figured I’d ask! Either way, have a wonderful weekend!

me and my husband~

includes : diavolo, barbatos, simeon, and solomon.

summary : calling him your "husband" (even though you two aren't married yet) to see his reaction.

warnings : gn! reader. mention of marriage.

part 1

DIAVOLO

You knew you had to be cautious, say it at the wrong time and Barbatos would certainly be pissed- which was something you wanted to avoid more than anything. So, in the early hours, as you helped Diavolo get ready for the day, you couldn't help but tease. "What am I to do alone without my husband?"

At first it's eerily quiet, and you're nervous to glance up to see Diavolo's reaction, his fingers- which rested on your waist- twitch as his grips tightens a bit. "I- I was just prankin-"

He leaned in close, his lips by your ears. "Is that what you want?" His voice was low and smooth. "Should I finally bestow such a title upon you, hm? I've certainly thought about it more than a few times..." He muses, pulling away just enough for you to see the smirk on his lips.

You're still a bit stunned by his sudden shift in demeanor and his hinting words. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Diavolo chuckles. "Be patient for me, spouse. We'll talk more about this tonight, okay?"

And before Barbatos can interrupt such an intimate moment, Diavolo presses a kiss to the corners of your lips before leaving- leaving you stunned and waiting for the promise of tonight.

BARBATOS

You were helping him set up for a party being hosted by the Devildom's prince, wanting to do anything to relieve some of the stress of it for him. "Where should these flowers go?" The delivery man asked, glancing around the giant hall.

"Hmm," you hum in thought, also glancing around the hall. "My husband will want them over there." You say casually, just loud enough to capture the said demon's attention. He didn't really give much of a reaction at first, just glancing your way before returning to the party details.

It wasn't until much later that you finally find out how he feels about your words. "Husband, hm?" He asks, his hand in yours as he leads you two around the dance floor- one of the few pleasures of helping to plan a party. You grin, your eyes sparkling with delight.

"I was wondering if you heard that." Barbatos hums in response, a smile sneaking its way on to his features.

"Whilst I'm not opposed to the title," He says, pulling you impossibly closer to him. "Perhaps we should wait until I've properly earned it, hm?"

"Oh? And when will that be?" You tease, biting your lip in anticipation. Barbatos chuckles, taking a step away as the song ends. He bows, placing a kiss to the back of your hand.

"Soon, I assure you." And then he's leading you to get a drink with him.

SIMEON

Sometimes it was hard to tease Simeon, but other times it was oh-so-easy that it'd be painfully hard not to mess with him a little. So when the little old granny cheerfully asked if you two were a married couple, you had to step in. You clutched his arm a little tighter, and before he could answer you spoke. "That's right, this my darling husband~"

Simeon sputtered a bit, looking at you mild disbelief to have agreed and even call him such an endearing term without hesitation. Simeon, trying not to cause a scene however, composed himself rather quickly and smiled at the elder woman.

"Mm, yes... I- I'm their husband..." He nods along. He's thankful she doesn't say much more, only commenting you two were adorable together before leaving. When she's far enough, you burst out into laughter. He frowns, arms crossed over his chest.

"Honestly..." He sighs, shaking his head at your antics. "You just love to mess with me, don't you?" You wipe away at tears from laughing so hard, glancing at him with a grin.

"Well it'll be true one day, so what's the harm in saying it now, right?" And if you thought his reaction earlier was cute, this one was much, much cuter- a shy smile he tries hard to hide. Simeon certainly hopes it'll be true one day.

SOLOMON

"Husband, oh my lovely husband~" You call whilst you know Solomon's in the middle of brewing a potion. You peaked your head into his lab, only to see him completely unbothered. He lifts his head only to meet your eyes for a few brief seconds before returning to his potion.

"Is there something you need, dear?" You frown, entering the room fully now.

"Not even a smile? No blush? Nothing?" He has a sly grin now as he shrugs.

"It's not I'm new to the title or anything." Solomon says simply, and this simple sentence causes your eye to twitch. "A great many, in fact, have called me such-" He narrowly dodges an attack, an alchemical book flying right for his head, before he realizes maybe he went a little too far with his own teasing.

"I'm never calling you that again, I swear-" Before you can leave he's abandoned his potion, his arms encircling you from behind.

"Don't be mad," He whispers, "You know that there isn't anybody I'd rather call me that than you." He presses kisses to the nape of your neck and downwards toward your shoulder. "And it's never sounded as sweet as it does than coming from your lips- like wine." He murmurs, "sweet and addicting." You roll your eyes, turning around to face him.

"Don't think your flowery words have gotten you out of trouble... completely." He grins, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"I have plenty more where that came from, if you're interested?"

Biting back a laugh, you drag him out of his lab. "Hm, keep it up and you'll have that title back by the end of the day." And he was more than happy to provide flowery, honeyed words forever should it please you.

#obey me x reader #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #om x reader #om headcanons #om imagines #omswd x reader #omswd headcanons #omswd imagines #diavolo x reader #barbatos x reader #simeon x reader #solomon x reader

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lqveharrington · 2 days ago

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In Sickness & Health | R.L.

summary: you and remus after a full moon <3

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, comfort, normal post full moon things

a/n: i’m in love with him :(

“Hey, Moony,” you murmured, settling onto the edge of his hospital wing bed. Your fingers gently threaded through his hair, careful not to press against any fresh bruises or reopen wounds. His hair was soft despite the sweat from the full moon’s toll. “How was tonight? Sirius told me it was… bad.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Remus replied, though his voice was strained, and the attempt at nonchalance didn’t quite mask the pain lacing his words. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position on the stiff white sheets, but winced as he moved. “Jus’ got a little out of hand, that’s all.”

You frowned, your gaze lingering on the fresh scar just above his eyebrow. Without thinking, you brushed a few strands of hair away and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of the wound. His skin was warm beneath your lips, radiating both the fever of healing and the exhaustion of survival. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s not your fault, dovey,” he murmured back, eyes still closed, breathing shallow.

“But it is,” you sighed, your voice cracking under the weight of guilt. Your fingers found his hand, lacing through his as your thumb sought out the steady beat of his pulse—a quiet reassurance that he was still here. Still breathing. “I shouldn’t have gone with Lily and Dorcas earlier. I should’ve been there when—”

“Stop,” Remus cut in gently, squeezing your hand to pull you out of the spiral. His amber eyes opened, hazy but sincere, locking onto yours. “You know it’s not your fault. These things… they happen. I’ve been dealing with this my whole life, yeah? Tonight was just a rough night, nothing you could’ve prevented.”

But you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest. Couldn’t stop the image of him curled on the hospital bed, covered in fresh scars that would never fully fade. You bit your bottom lip, emotions swirling, and brought his hand to your lips, pressing a tender kiss against his knuckles. “I’m still sorry.”

He chuckled, though it came out more like a breathy exhale. “I’ll get Madam Pomfrey to kick you out if you don’t stop with all this guilt,” he teased, squeezing your hand again. His eyes softened. “Besides… you’ll be here to help me afterwards, yeah?”

“Of course, Rem,” you nodded, voice thick with emotion.

He smiled—small, tired, but genuine—and tilted his head just enough to look at you properly. His gaze narrowed playfully until you finally cracked a smile, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, the weight of worry momentarily lifted by his warmth. Remus shifted again, letting out a slow sigh as he tried to settle his battered body. You reached up to run your fingers through his tousled hair once more, the rhythmic motion calming both of you.

“Think you’ll be able to attend classes by Monday?” you asked softly. “We’ve got those tests in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

He hummed thoughtfully, leaning into your touch like a cat basking in the sun. “We’ll see… Might just have to fake my way through them. Not like Flitwick hasn’t seen me half-asleep in class before.”

You glanced at the old clock hanging above Madam Pomfrey’s office door and sighed. “You should rest,” you murmured, though the last thing you wanted was to leave him.

“Dovey,” he mumbled, voice low, “you need to get to bed, too.”

You nodded reluctantly, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm, his pulse steady beneath your fingertips. “Do you want me to bring anything tomorrow? A change of clothes, books… chocolate?”

“Just yourself,” he grinned, eyes fluttering shut. “The boys already made grand plans to raid my side of the dorm for me.”

“Figures.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. Squeezing his hand one last time, you whispered, “Goodnight, Rem.”

“Night, love.”

As you slipped out of the hospital wing, the cool corridors of Hogwarts seemed colder than usual, the stone walls echoing with your thoughts. You kept replaying the night in your head—the ache in his voice, the scars on his skin—and you hoped, with everything in you, that he wasn’t downplaying the pain.

Remus spent most of the weekend recovering, pushing through the stiffness and soreness until, by Sunday afternoon, he managed to hobble out of bed with his cane, taking slow, measured steps. You stayed by his side every moment you could, abandoning weekend plans with the girls without a second thought. James and Sirius, of course, had already tried to rope him into plotting pranks, but Remus waved them off with a lazy grin. Next time, he promised. For now, he just wanted quiet.

The two of you ended up by the Black Lake, settling beneath the sprawling branches of a tree that overlooked the shimmering water. The late afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon, casting streaks of gold and pink across the sky. Remus lay back with his head in your lap, eyes closed, his breathing even as you idly ran your fingers through his hair.

“Did your dad make this?” you asked softly, tracing the intricate carvings on his wooden cane. The designs were delicate, swirling patterns framing his initials at the top—R.J.L.—surrounded by tiny etched stars.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded, opening his eyes halfway. “He started working on it after… after he realized how much I was struggling to walk after full moons. Didn’t say much—just handed it to me one morning.”

Your fingertips brushed over the stars, heart tugging at the thought of the quiet, steadfast love behind each carved detail. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “And it suits you.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating softly against your leg. “I’ll owl him that. He’ll be pleased someone appreciates his handiwork.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle lapping of the lake and the distant calls of students on the castle grounds. Remus turned his head slightly, letting the fading sunlight warm his face. For a moment, you saw beyond the scars and fatigue—to the boy who loved books, who smiled despite the weight he carried, who found peace in the little things.

“Help me up?” he asked after a while.

“Of course.” You shifted, careful as you helped him sit up. His muscles tensed under your hands, but he didn’t complain. Steadying him, you passed him his cane. He gripped it firmly, testing his balance.

“Thanks, dovey,” he murmured, his gaze catching yours. There was gratitude in his eyes—deep, unspoken, and profound.

You smiled, falling into step beside him as you wandered back toward the castle, the horizon painted with the colors of the setting sun. Whatever challenges lay ahead—tests, pranks, full moons—you’d face them together. Always.

The following week passed in a blur of classes, missed notes, and whispered conversations between you and Remus when Madam Pomfrey wasn’t hovering over him. By Tuesday morning, he was finally released from the hospital wing—still sore, still leaning on his cane, but stubbornly insistent on returning to classes despite your protests.

“Professor McGonagall’s going to have my head if I miss another Transfiguration lecture,” he grumbled as you walked beside him, his pace slow but determined. “Besides, I’ve already got Sirius taking notes for me. Not that I can read half of his scribbles.”

You snorted. “You’d have better luck asking a Hippogriff to write in cursive.”

Remus chuckled, the sound warming your chest. Even with dark circles still under his eyes and his movements careful, it was good to see him returning to his usual self—sarcastic comments, fond exasperation at his friends, and all.

By Wednesday afternoon, he was exhausted. You could see it in the way he slumped against the library table, one hand lazily turning the pages of Advanced Defensive Spells, the other propping up his head.

“Rem,” you whispered, nudging his leg under the table. “You’re not going to absorb any of that if you’re half-asleep.”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, though his eyelids drooped.

“You’re reading the index,” you pointed out.

He blinked down at the book. “…Shit.”

Smiling fondly, you reached over and closed it for him. “Come on. Fresh air might wake you up.”

Reluctantly, he let you tug him away from the library and out toward the Black Lake. The March wind was crisp, biting at your cheeks, but the sky was clear—a perfect gradient of pale blue bleeding into amber as the sun started its slow descent. You walked in comfortable silence, his arm occasionally brushing against yours.

“Here,” you said, guiding him to a familiar spot near the small cliff overlooking the water—the same place you’d been the weekend before. The grass was still damp, but neither of you cared. Remus sat with a quiet sigh, stretching out his legs as you settled beside him.

“I don’t deserve you, you know,” he murmured after a long pause, voice soft and a little too serious.

You turned your head toward him. “Where’s that coming from?”

He shrugged, gaze fixed on the shimmering surface of the lake. “I know how hard this is for you. Worrying. Waiting around for me to pull myself back together after every full moon. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” you replied, nudging his shoulder. “And you don’t get to decide what I can handle.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Stubborn.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” you shot back, and he laughed—really laughed—head tilting back, eyes crinkling. It was a sound you wished you could bottle up and keep forever.

Falling into a companionable quiet again, you watched as the sun dipped lower, casting golden ripples across the lake. Seagulls cried overhead, distant and fleeting.

“You know,” you started, tracing random patterns in the grass, “I don’t stay because I have to. I stay because I want to, Remus. You… you matter to me. Scars and all.”

He went still beside you, the weight of your words settling between you like a warm blanket. Slowly, cautiously, his hand found yours in the grass. Fingers entwined, familiar and safe.

“I’m lucky to have you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased, though your cheeks burned.

The sky bled into a soft lavender as the first stars began to peek through. Remus leaned against you, his head resting on your shoulder. “This… this helps,” he murmured. “Being with you. Makes it easier to breathe.”

You smiled, resting your head against his. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The wind picked up, sending ripples across the lake and rustling the trees behind you, but neither of you moved. For now, the world could wait.

Here, in this quiet pocket of Hogwarts grounds, with his hand in yours and the stars beginning to glow above, everything felt… right.

And you’d hold onto that feeling—for him, for you, for as long as it took.

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jaredpadonlyyyy · 2 days ago

Text

𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙏’𝙎 𝙎𝙒𝙀𝙀𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙐𝙁𝙁

• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙏𝙔, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙁𝙇𝙐𝙁𝙁

• 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝘿𝙉𝙄 𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆 𝙔𝙊𝙐

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙑𝙀 𝙎𝙀𝙓 (𝘞𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴) 𝙋 𝙄𝙉 𝙑, 𝘿𝙊𝙂𝙂𝙔 𝙎𝙏𝙔𝙇𝙀, 𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙐𝙇𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉, 𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙄𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙉𝙂.

You and Sam have been in a fight since the last hunt that almost went wrong. You knew it was Sam’s fault but he thinks it wasn’t, so it got you both in a fight and not talking. It’s been almost two weeks and even for Dean, it was weird to see both of you fighting since you two have been together since you were both children and almost never really fought like at all so it was weird to him. You both still slept in the same bed, in the same room. He was your husband after all and no matter how angry you are with him, you still love him to death. He’s been the love of your life like forever. You were in the kitchen like you always were.

Dean walked inside the kitchen and sat down. “Whatcha cooking?” He asked clapping his hands as he licked his lips knowing that your food was always so good. You didn’t answer and it made Dean’s smile fall. “Hey.” He called out making you snap out of your thoughts. “Yeah.” You turned around as he stood up the chair he was sitting on. “Are you okay?” He asked as you turned off the eggs you were cooking and sigh “honestly, no.” Your eyes watered as Dean stood in front of you. “I miss him.” You let out a sob as your voice broke. “Then talk to him.” Dean said as he grabs you from your shoulders and pushes you out the kitchen. “I can’t.” You told the Winchester man.

“Yes you can, now go.” He said kicking you out as he walked over to the food you were doing.

You scoffed as he smiled over at you as you rolled your eyes and walked back to your room where you last left your husband sleeping. “Oh, and my the way, I’m going on a hunt to help a friend out.” Dean called out. “Okay, see ya.” You waved him off as you walked to your room. You softly opened the door to your room and saw Sam was still sleeping, which was not normal for him. But you knew how exhausted he was.

You pulled over Sam’s shirt throwing it aside, leaving you in only your underwear, since that’s all you sleep in and got inside the sheets facing your husband as he opened his hazel eyes to see you facing him very close. “Hey.” You said softly as you both looked at each other. “Hey.” He greeted back to you softly as you look all over his face. “I’m sorry.” Sam told you before you can speak. You smile as you got closer to him. “I was going to say sorry as well.” You told him as he immediately hugged your figure bringing you closer to him. “I know you were trying to protect me and I got angry over it.” You said softly as he smiled.

“And I get that you can protect yourself, you’re a badass hunter, trust me I know.” You both chuckled. “My job isn’t to only protect innocent people and get them home safely. But my job is to also to protect my wife when I feel like she’s in danger.” He spoke softly. “One thing I will always do is protect you when i feel like you’re in danger.” He said and you nod at him as you understood. “I understand.” You softly told Sam.

You both smiled and leaned into to a sweet kiss as you smiled into the kiss as well as Sam.

There was a knock on the door and you and Sam lifted your heads as the door opened, but Dean was not looking inside. “You both decent?” Dean asked as you gasped. “Dean my whole ass is out.” You said as you and Sam both chuckled, joking with the Man. He turned to both of you as you both laughed at him.

“Anyways I’m leaving.” He said as Sam sat up on the bed. “Where are you going?” Sam asked him as he turned with a smirk. “Arianna asked me for help on a hunt.” He said making you sit up with the sheets close to your chest at the sound of your best friend’s name. “Are you two together?” You asked Dean as he smirked even wider. You glared at him as his smirk fell. And then you smirked as you realized something.

“No way, you like her.” You said making Dean’s eyes widen for a moment and he scoffed. “No, I don’t.” He denied it. “Oh, man! This is good.” You and Sam were laughing as he blushed. “Just so you know.” You said. “She likes you too.” You wink and his mouth dropped. “Wait really?” He asked making you smirk so big at that. “I knew it! You do like her.” You said as he sighs. “Okay, yes I do.” He said making you clap your hands and laugh. “Okay, go don’t keep her waiting.” You told him as he started to close the door. “Please use protection!” You yelled hearing him let out a loud groan making you and Sam bust out laughing at him.

After Dean left it’s been a day and all you both have been doing is having make up sex.

Right now you moan loudly as he slammed into you as he had you bent over the map room table. Sam’s hand came down, making contact with your ass in a slap making you moan louder at the pleasure plus the sting of the slap. “Fuck, Sam.” You gasped as he brought up your leg going in deeper. You had to hold him back as he was in so deep. He wasn’t a small man by any means. He was very long and thick and you could feel how your pussy scratches out as he’s fucking you. It’s been two days since Dean left to be with your best friend and it’s been two days since you and Sam have been going at it. Your legs felt like they were about to give up as your pussy walls start to flutter. “God, Sam!!” You gripped on to the table.

You looked over your shoulder as he gripped your hips and slams harder making your legs shake from how delicious he was hitting your sweet spot over and over again. “Aah!” You gasped. Sam holding your hips up as your pussy flutters around his cock making him groan. Letting out a grunt Sam pulled out making you get on your knees as he pumped his cock in front of your face. “Fuuuck!” He grunted as he shot out his release onto your mouth as you open.

Swelling him, your lips took him in bobbing your head up and down making Sam groan loudly as he leaned onto the map table as he kept on moaning. Grabbing onto his thighs you kept on going making him gasp over and over again at how good it felt at how you were giving him some head. His cock twitching as he started thrusting his hips fast and hard into your mouth. “I’m coming, fuck!” He lets out closing his eyes as it was becoming way too much for him. He grabbed your hair making you gag as he held you there making him grunt loudly as he cums again.

Pulling out he winced as he looked down at you as his dick soften, lifting you off the floor as he looked at how fucked out you were. Dean leaving for two days. You both didn’t know what got into you both as all you did was have nothing but amazing rough sex.

Sam leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips making you sigh as tiredness was starting to hit your body from the two days of activities you both did. Pulling away you looked up at him, his hands gripping your hips. “I love you, Sam Winchester.” You whispered to him as you looked up at him with some kind of tenderness in your eyes. “I love you, too.” He said back giving you the same look you were giving.

After that Sam took care of you, helping you shower, getting dressed, and finally you both were inside the sheets cuddling as you both watched something on Netflix, your eyes starting to get heavy from the day.

You and Sam had fallen asleep, Dean found you both knocked out with Netflix still playing.

𝙎. 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

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jsooly · 3 days ago

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death in the family (6) / sully family x human!daughter/sister!reader

synopsis, you finally get to the bottom of what eywa was trying to show you. she didn't tell you it'd try to kill you.

!! LINKS ARE INCLUDED FOR REFERENCE! i used these to help visualize so i wanted to include them to help you guys too <3

this is a loooooooong chapter enjoy !

(1) / . . . / (10) / (11*) / (12*- ur here! ☆)

+ chapters with an * beside it means that it’s following atwow plot line as opposed to disconnected scenarios

when did you move from your bed?

the ground cradled you. your figure imprinted into the pillowy dirt and the blades of grass brushed delicately along your cheek, like the great mother's herself was beside you peppering butterfly kisses on your skin. it figured that she was the only one able to lull your restless soul into slumber.

blinking awake, you felt abnormally light. like gravity had been lowered significantly. like the weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders. no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't muster any worry for the state of your family or the dangers that threatened them.

you smiled, squinting as the sun peeked through the holes in the canopy. this is nice. you breathed the fresh air deeply, your lungs expanding slowly. this is nice.

then you focused on the tree before you. the tree of souls, standing proud in all its glory, was calling to you. whispers unheard yet drawing you in all the same.

you cocked your head to the side, thinking this has never happened before. you've visited the tree of souls on more than one occasion, and every time it stood listless.

you pushed yourself off the ground and walked closer.

with each step, the atmosphere grew darker. the only thing constant was the thrumming neon blue and lavender lighting of the tree's long weeping leaves. you stumbled onto the hill it was rooted in, falling through the curtains of neural links and—

listen.

you squinted towards the apex of the tree, overwhelmed by the glittering lighting beating its way through your pupils. huh? the voice you heard was warped, indescribable in terms of tone or pitch, neither coming from your right or left, it was just... there.

follow me and listen.

when did it become nighttime? your bones were growing heavy. a low groan tapered its way off your lips, your head teetering on the edge of dizziness once again. you curled into yourself as the whispers intensified into a crowd's roar—

your eyes flew open. you didn't dare to move. seeds of eywa covered your body, surrounding you in a halo of cool lighting. you could feel their presence along the fat of your thigh, back, stomach... they were everywhere. the one beside your cheek caressed you with its tentacles.

your body felt tired. you remained completely still, trying to hold on to the bliss you felt moments ago in your vision. but here the walls were painted grey and your mattress was stiff.

your eyes darted back to the closest woodsprite, the message echoing in your mind. follow me.

"what are you trying to tell me?" you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep. "to follow you?"

its movement was almost imperceptible.

"fine." you closed your eyes one last time.

at your confirmation, the sprites lifted into the air, floating out the window. one remained, patiently waiting for you to complete your morning routine and grab your tools. you climbed out the window behind it.

the grass was frigid under the soles of your feet as you strolled behind the sprite. your head was still pounding uncomfortably from your psychedelic vision.

you wandered along a familiar route towards the tree of souls. it was sunken into a crater of its own, the bedrock around it hollowing out to give it space to grow. some sprites fluttered past you, descending to take their place back at the epicenter of the great mother's presence.

"okay, here we are." you said, your tone exasperated. the sprite stood still, like an NPC character stuck at the end of its script. without any further instructions, you elected to climb down the cliff towards the tree.

you landed gracefully on the rocky terrain, despite the morning dew making it a bit slippery. the sprite was following you now, it seemed, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

how do you communicate with something you can't connect with? this question has been part of your life since forever and has extended past just the people. forget the language, there was an unspoken energy around you that you weren't built to harness.

though this situation was making you reconsider that fact.

"you brought me here." you hummed, extending your arm to let the bright rods brush over it. "what do you want to show me?"

you weren't completely serious as you spoke into the crisp morning air. if your thoughts were out there, maybe something other than silence would respond to you.

you stood there expectantly for a few minutes. if you didn't get any answers for eywa's confusing persistence, at least you could soothe yourself before you attempted to switch spider's mask.

you sighed, giving your ethereal companion a sheepish look. "i'm sorry, i just don't understand."

you stepped past it, your mind already plotting how far you were from spider's location.

then a cool wind passed over you. your eyes fell to the ground, watching a large shadow zip along.

weird.

you crouched low to the ground, scurrying to the cliff wall and pressing your back tightly to the surface. when you finally looked up, you felt the blood drain from your face.

ikran don't often hang around rocky terrain, not this low to the ground anyway, much less slotsyal. stormgliders.

your eyes snapped to eywa's sprites. they were all buzzing with life, zipping through the air more excitedly than usual. your companion floated under your hand, lifting it up and up and up until you were pointing at the apex predator.

"are you crazy?" you whispered urgently, pulling your hand back and looking at it incredulously. "no, no. i am turning the other way, thank you." you muttered, turning towards the wall and feeling for a good ledge to start your climb.

the sprite brushed along your face, making you splutter and step back out of the shade of the cliff wall. others surrounded you, drifting off and illuminating a path towards the animal.

you glared at all of them. "this is what you want from me? what am i gonna do, make friends with it?"

they floated there, steadfast in their instructions.

you gave it a look. "i will die if i get close. eaten! that's your big plan for me, great mother? really?"

you knew it was her doing. stormgliders never hunt this low to the ground, and they are never around the forest. similar to toruk, they cruise at super high altitudes and only ever descend when they're hungry.

this guy was descending, and you hated to think you were the food.

but if this was eywa's plan, you were a fool to turn away.

you gripped your bow, stringing it expertly as you gave one last glance at the sprites. "i'm listening as you've asked of me." you grumbled stubbornly, like a child complaining to their parent. "but if i die, that's on you."

"are you some kind of... freak?" aonung smirked down at kiri, his entourage chuckling behind him.

"he asked if you are a freak." one echoed.

"...no." kiri answered dismissively, walking away. they followed behind her, circling her like vultures.

"are you sure? you're not even real na'vi. look at these hands." aonung continued, swiping at her wrist to prove his point. she pulled back, her eyes narrowed. "i mean, look at them!" he laughed, grabbing her hands and turning them over, as if inspecting something grotesque.

kiri yanked her hands away, her glare sharp as her heart pounded with anger. the sounds of aonung's friends' laughter erupting behind her.

"hey!" lo'ak sauntered up, his expression hardened. he was already pissed off. "back off, fish lips."

"oh, another four fingered freak." aonung teased, a low laugh following as his friends began to pull on lo'ak's tail.

"leave us alone!" kiri pleaded, her voice laced with frustration.

she didn't have to say anything further—neteyam stormed into the scene, grabbing aonung's shoulder and ripping him away from his little brother.

"you heard what she said." neteyam threatened, his voice menacingly calm for the irritation he was feeling inside. "leave them alone."

"ah, big brother comin—"

aonung slapped the back of his hand to his friend, shutting him up without breaking eye contact with neteyam. his mind calculated the risks of stepping toe-to-toe with the foreigner, scanning for weakness.

"no, you're wrong," aonung corrected his friend with a smug look. "he is no big brother. he is the little brother to a demon. a human they've left behind because they are ashamed."

lo'ak lurched forward with an angry growl.

"lo'ak." neteyam snapped and the boy froze, pacing behind the older sully.

"you're gonna let them talk about her like that?"

"aww," aonung cooed, condescension dripping from his tongue. "they say birds flock together. i see the same idea extends to half-blooded demon freaks such as yourself."

neteyam gave lo'ak one more warning look before returning his attention to the metkayina kids. "my family is of no concern to you."

"yes, they are." aonung shot back. "we don't want your contamination. i would respect you, sully, if you didn't bow your head to the human you call your elder sibling."

neteyam exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. aonung had no idea who he was insulting.

"you speak as if you know her. as if you understand what she is." his voice, when it finally came, was low and precise.

he took a slow step forward. "this demon you speak of is our sister, out protector. she bled for us before she had even grew into her own strength. that alone makes her more of a man than you are." his golden eyes burned with something lethal. "we all know she isn't made for this world. that doesn't mean the planet itself hasn't accepted her as she is. she belongs here just like we do."

it made aonung hesitate for a second.

"you would not be standing if she was here. she would've knocked you into the sand without hesitation." neteyam continued, his fists tightening. " but she is not here. i am. and if you bother my family again, i won't think twice about following her example."

aonung paused. then, he raised his hands, that stupid smirk on his lips as he stepped back in surrender.

"smart choice." neteyam hummed, satisfied as he leaned back. "and from now on, i need you to respect my sister." he jabbed a finger in kiri's direction.

one of aonung's friends hissed. kiri responded by sticking out her tongue.

"let's go." neteyam ordered, patting lo'ak's head as he stormed past him.

"bye bye!" one friend sang mockingly, laughing as they turned away.

lo'ak's eyes rolled as he slowed to a stop.

"lo'ak." neteyam warned.

"i got this." lo'ak sweetly reassured him as he walked back to the group. he smiled as he approached them. "i know this hand is funny. but it can do something really cool. watch."

aonung made the mistake of humoring him.

at this point, your brain was tired screaming DANGER! the warning bells were going off, and you weren't listening.

the wind underneath the stormglider's wings rustled the leaves and vines of the trees below it. you were currently running for your life.

i knew this was a bad idea i knew this was a bad idea

you squeezed your eyes shut, yelling out in exertion. running in a near constant sprint for almost half an hour straight was not on your agenda today. your arms pumped at your sides, carrying you farther with every step.

the only logical conclusion to eywa's... gift was that you needed to bond with the stormglider. or escape it? but then why would she bring you and light the path towards it?

you were hesitant to accept the message she was clearly sending your way. how? you wanted to yell. how am i going to bond with this gigantic creature?

though juvenile, this slotsyal was much larger than a fully mature ikran. their wingspan was massive, and their barbed tail swinging behind them was the nail in the coffin.

the stormglider thrashed its great wings, carrying it higher and higher in the air.

your heart dropped. that only meant it was rearing to dive down and strike. its venomous tail was too much for the armored fauna of pandora to handle. one touch and you were a goner.

exactly as you predicted, you heard the piercing whistle as the stormglider dived.

holy shit. your mind was in overdrive. every thought occupied your attention for less than a second. a primal need to survive filled your veins and in the next moment you were moving on autopilot—

a screech echoed along the tree trunks as if broke through the canopy. you gripped the weighted lasso tighter, racing out of its line of sight. you scrambled up a tree, leaping down onto its head and slinging the lasso around its beak.

it landed on the ground, tumbling onto its side, wailing as it clumsily flailed its wings to regain balance.

that was the good thing about large animals. the bigger they were, the harder they fell. their size didn't leave much room for agility. get the jump on them and you're already halfway there.

you laughed to yourself as it struggled against your hold. "that's right," you grinned, peering into its eyes. it's pupils dilated upon seeing you. "you're mine."

in a burst of energy, it raised its head, catapulting you into the air. you grunted, gripping onto the lasso that was still binding its beak.

oh great mother, this better be what you intended.

it shot back into the air and it was a miracle you were able to hold on. the vertical ascent allowed you to flatten onto its head. you wrapped your legs around it's neck and clung to the long fin in the middle of its skull.

there was nothing much you could do but hold on your life until it burned out again.

it warbled in pain and you perked up. hurt?

now that it wasn't actively trying to kill you, you noticed that it lacked a neural queue. you knew stormgliders were solo agents, but almost all big animals had a queue. was this one defective? perhaps a mutation down the line?

in an instant, it dropped from the sky, crashing onto the top of a mountain. you were thrown off its head, bouncing on the hard ground with an oof as you teetered off the cliff's edge.

a white hot flash of panic flashed through your body as you clung to the lasso. you pulled yourself up, but you were surprised when the stormglider started to tug you back to safety as well.

you panted heavily, the spike of activity finally registering in your body. you winced. it was painful to stand up.

you stumbled over to the fallen stormglider. it was restless, whining as it slumped over on its side.

"you just had to make it hard for me, huh." you groaned, huffing as you assessed its state. "i guess great mother threw us both for a loop."

as the nausea died down, your vision cleared and you saw it. a clean cut through a portion of its underbelly.

you pursed your lips, already rifling through your kit for supplies to mend it. you walked back to its head, stroking your hand down its side and staring into its blue eyes.

"if i take this off, promise you won't try to eat me?" you proposed. it blinked. you sighed wondering if you were unwrapping your killer or new companion.

you got to work on patching him up. a light drizzle rained down on top of you, but it was a welcome sensation after the heat of the moment.

opposed to the tough top exterior of the slotsyal, its belly was soft and easily patched up by your tools. after plastering some gauze over the wound, you gently pat its ribs before returning to its head.

"truce?" you sighed and sat crisscross beside him.

his beady eyes locked onto you before he nudged your thigh with its snout. you accommodated him, petting the curve of its head gently.

truce.

the pieces were falling into place. since you moved to high camp, you realized how important ikran were in forest na'vi culture. only together can they reach the heights the terrain has to offer. you couldn't visit your family via the helicopters, and now you had your own mount to get there.

you've got to hand it to eywa. she may be mysterious in her ways but she does hear her children's cries and dries their tears.

the light rain subsided as the sun poked out through the clouds.

"huh." you hummed as a rainbow bent its way through the sky. "katir." (rainbow.)

lo'ak fucked around and unfortunately, found out.

if it wasn't clear that the metkayina kids were praying on his downfall, it was now.

joke's on them, he thought bitterly. cuz i've got a new friend.

he was having the best time with payakan—the best few hours of his life since moving to awa'atlu.

his laughter echoed across the open waters, tapering off when he saw a large shadow pass over him.

he looked up, covering his eyes with his hands as he tried to make out what was circling above them.

mom? he thought in a panic. oh shit.

then he saw the glint of a tail. he stood there dumbly. wait, ikran don't have pointed tails, do they..?

"lo'ak?!" you screamed above the wind.

"y/n?" his eyes widened.

"katir, no!" you pulled on the your new stormglider friends' ears wrapped around your entire arm, similar to the reins of a horse. "not food!"

with a screech, katir's wings extended. the sharp drop was reduced to a clumsy glide down, the gusts of wind knocking lo'ak off his feet. katir swerved, turning around and landing on a nearby rock. he churred as he shook his wings of the saltwater, bending his head to let you drop onto the ground.

"y/n!" lo'ak's grin was so wide it hurt his cheeks but he couldn't stop. he slid onto payakan's front fin, signing please, over there!

he arrived as you were chewing katir out.

"if this is gonna work, we've gotta set some ground rules." you scolded him. he huffed and turning his head away from you. "hey, i'm talking to you."

"y/n!" lo'ak screamed in delight, jumping onto the rock and promptly slipping. "wha—what are you doing here?! how are you here?"

you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to safety. you didn't stop there and pulled him into your arms. he hugged you back readily.

"this is katir," you grinned, walking over to your new friend and patting his head.

lo'ak blinked in disbelief. "i—how?"

"divine intervention." you shrugged. "i don't exactly know either. i had a vision, and eywa's seeds lured me to the area where this guy was lurking around. long story short, we tried to kill each other then reached an understanding."

"bonded?"

you shook your head. "no. he doesn't have a neural queue."

"just like you." lo'ak scrunched his face. "weird."

you hadn't thought of it that way.

"anyway," he shook his head, his beaming smile returning. "this is so crazy! i can't believe you're really here! wait until i tell—"

"wait." you gripped his arms. "you can't tell anyone else. not yet, anyway. i don't fully understand the implications of showing up here."

"what does it matter?" lo'ak scoffed. "we're fine. dad said you could join us anyways."

"when you're settled."

"we are!"

"are you?" you narrowed your eyes. "why are you out here alone?"

lo'ak's jaw snapped shut, his eyes drifting to the side. a look that told you all that you need to know.

"do you wanna talk about it?" you smiled kindly, sitting on the wet rock. he sighed and dropped down beside you.

"they were... being jerks. making fun of kiri and you."

you blinked. "is kiri okay?"

"yeah, she's fine."

"how do they even know about me? i thought dad would keep that under wraps."

lo'ak rolled his eyes, grumbling. "tuk and her big mouth."

you laughed softly. you missed this. you missed complaining about each other. "i assume you got into a fight?"

he nodded.

you smiled and ruffled his head with a smile. "still looking out for me oceans away, huh? thank you, lo'ak."

he got bashful, dropping his head and letting his free strand of hair poorly cover his face. "it's whatever. neteyam jumped 'em too."

you chuckled softly. "you won, no doubt."

"yeah."

"proud of you." you praised him. in the next second, your comm buzzed.

"y/n, they're moving."

lo'ak's ears popped up. "was that—"

"spider? yeah." you pressed your fingers to your choker. "copy." you responded, rising to your feet.

lo'ak's mind was struggling to keep up with all the new information. he was still shocked that you were really standing in front of him. "y/n, what have you been up to?!"

you smiled and pat his shoulder. "keeping kiri's promise. hopefully. and some sabotage."

katir blew a puff of air directly onto your head. you huffed and brushed your hair back into place. "yeah, yeah, i'm coming."

lo'ak stared at you in awe. in the month and a half they've been gone, you've already ascended to another level. or maybe you were always on this level, and only without the watchful umbrella of your father were you able to realize it.

"you can tell the other kids, not mom and dad." you called to him as you jumped onto katir. "make sure tuk doesn't blab, okay?"

"you got it." lo'ak mumbled. "you're... are you gonna come back?" he asked timidly, out of character for a confident guy like himself.

you gave him a tight lipped smile. "yeah."

his grin was the last thing you saw before you yipped, urging katir into the air. with a boom, he lifted off, unfurling his great wings and zooming back to the forest.

you stationed katir at a safe distance away from high camp. as a natural predator of ikran and na'vi, you didn't want to risk any mishaps.

before you went to spider, you needed to replenish your stockpile. naturally, the research base you were staying in didn't carry things like arrows and knives. everyone didn't think twice when they saw you rifling around. you were a familiar face, after all.

"y/n."

you squeaked as you whirled around, not expecting anyone to approach you, much less speak to you.

tarsem's eyebrows raised at your reaction, tilting his head as his features settled into an unreadable expression. his lips curled slightly as though amused by your surprised.

"hey." you quickly recovered.

"you are uneasy." he said, gaze sweeping over your fresh bruises and scars from the scuffle with katir earlier. his eyes were tender as they lingered on your injuries, concern threading through his words. "that is unlike you."

"first time for everything." you smiled politely, pocketing more arrowheads.

tarsem's lips twitched into a smile. "i do not remember you showing your discomfort so openly." he observed, curiosity in his tone.

"are you always so attentive with your people?" you hummed, your focus back to the trunk of treasures you were fishing through.

tarsem remained quiet studying you for a moment before he spoke again. "scouts spotted a rouge slotsyal above the plains this morning." he informed you. "be careful when you're out there."

"i wouldn't worry about that," you mumbled without thinking, stilling indistinctly before continuing your search.

"hm?"

"nothing. thanks for letting me know."

he nodded curtly, smile returning as he strolled past you. "you should visit more often." he suggested softly.

you eyed him, caught off guard by the shift in tone. "maybe." you answered truthfully.

your confusion of the interaction was overshadowed by the time crunch. you could review tarsem's conversation later. right now, you had a plan to bring to fruition.

you only prayed the great mother will look out for you in this, too.

. . .

thanks for reading! <3

taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @dae-dreamer @delirious-dolce @strawbaerriesvt @avatar-lover @ryiana @lxon-kxnnedy @zukki33 @chalahyung01 @ssc7514 @shmaptainbonky @aureolinb @whosbibi2000 @childishname @nen-nyy @moonchildxoxx @hdjfvnd

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slutsareteacherstoo · 13 hours ago

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Gonna be blasting all these songs that came up below like wow, Reina. You got me fr. Its highkey a sign for me. Like lemme not block my blessings and get my shit together real quick but amazing

First up gon be that Keyshia Cole

Me reading the warnings more clearly know and sending praise 😩🙏🏿

OH SHE IS FREE?!?! GRACIAS MI REINA 🙏🏿🧎🏿‍♀️I WAS STRESSING!!!!! but damn that’s not freedom frfr but she out!

Come on inner dialogue tingz!!! 🗣️🗣️ “Guilt was burning across all of my deepest thoughts, creating a pile of self-doubt and resentment in the crevices of every memory— happy, sad, or indifferent.”

“For me, it was like carrying around a burden of responsibility that was far too delicate and overwhelming. As hard as I fought to keep the world inside my head unburdened by the plague of self-doubt, I failed— forgetting just how easy it is for me to self-destruct without the slightest potential of reprieve.” Its giving sisyphus😪free my girl fr!!!!

Shit that freaked me out but i too would freak out and had i heard someone fall to the floor

“I was battling the urge to do what I normally do—spew hateful words until the other person retreats. For the first time in my life, my body and mind actually agreed with my heart. I couldn't do it. Nothing would come out no matter how many times I opened my mouth— no words word forms and all sounds were deafened on my lips. I was unconsciously saving myself from myself, and, in this fight, I was my only opponent.” - you be writing poetry? 🧐🤨 just curious 🤓 it’s very lyrical, very verse!!! I like that last sentence.

OH GOT HE TOGETHER REAL QUICK!!!!!

Nah Havana. We nuh av dat!!!! 😤 THE PERSON IN FRONT IS SHOWING YOU THEY LOVE YOU BABY YOU NOT PRETENDING!! And ol boy knows its not an act 😩

“…Today might not be that day, but dammit if I don't try.” - well *claps hands* so when’s the wedding??? 🤭 no but that was some real shit. This IS some real shit. Havana’s inability to accept her relationship with Terry and his love for her for what it is is def a situation ik all too well, even when all the conditions are met that doesn’t change the mindfuck and guilt can be consuming. And also like being able too see the grey. Cuz like yes 🙄 Vana couldve reeled it in a bit but/and/also Terry was being communicative and ignored Vana when she brought up what happened and how it clearly bothered her. So the moral is that there’s shared accountability in all this!!!

*LEARN SOMETHING FROM THIS*

Yes we love big bawling, emotional Terry being raw and vulnerable

“Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up,” I cooed into his ear.” 🥺🥺

“I love you,” I said softly, kissing Terry's head. “I just gotta figure out how… how to love me, too.” - WHEW THATLL DO IT!!!!! 😭

Not his voice metro booming i wouldve [redacted] right there

“Nah…. Not Daddy. Terry. That's my name tonight. Okay?” he said, pressing me further into the mattress.” - THEY GON BE MAKING LOVE TONIGHT YALL 😫 play “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” by Elton John

OH SHIT WE DOIN AFFIRMATIONS NOW?!?!

I blinked in between the pumps like sorry Vana. scooch over real quick i need to hear this 😅🙈

HEY SIRI PUT THAT DESTIN CONRAD “IT’S YOURS” ON REPEAT!!!

Lmaooo ok ok ok Reina 😌Mi Reina you’ve redeemed yourself in the eyes of your public. Now i know (partially)why you had the girls [gender neutral] up in arms. But wow!!!

This was sooo disarming. Like you stripped me raw and got me reflecting like fuck. I don’t do fisticuffs but that anger and being quick to use it on people who aren’t careful. Them words could cut a bitch fr!!! But like wow im like taken aback and in awe. Like shoutout to Vana for seeing herself through it. I mean Terry helped or whatever 🙄 but again Vana did the heavy lifting and thT makes me soo proud to see.

And you’ve done such an amazing job crafting these characters, esp your OC and making her face her shit and be real with herself, always for the better. Like chile lemme get myself together so I can be present in my future relationships like damn. It took me a minute to catch up but it was actually perfect timing. Like wow.

Im constantly blown away by you and seeing you expand in your craft. Ik im a behind but ik that means theres more in store to give flowers to always 💜

Big Mama Pt. 12 | Enough

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +5.1K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, light smut (fingering), heavily dialogue-centered, angst, verbal argument, self-deprecation

🦋Big Mama (series) => 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Early That Morning

“Monnie, I don't know… Everything is just…,” I said, crying softly.

“Girl! If you don't just praise God right quick, and call that man to thank him.” Monnie said, smacking her lips. She was understandably agitated with my response. Was it lackluster? Yes, but I didn't know what to say or do about it. I didn't want to seem ungrateful, but I honestly wasn't happy with the outcome.

After almost three weeks of pure hell, I received a call from a lawyer that Terry himself hired. I was told the conditions for maintaining my freedom as I was currently living in the aftermath of the incident between Terry, me, and Taylor. It was finally over, but here I was still crumbling under the weight of it all.

The terms and conditions were as follows:

Terry agrees not to sue Taylor as long as she agrees not to sue me.

Terry agrees not to file and pursue criminal charges against Taylor as long as she agrees to drop the charges against me and forfeit her right to refile.

I would not be allowed to approach Taylor in any public setting, but we could be present in the same vicinity.

There would be no established restraining order from Taylor against me, just a peace order since we have no standing or pre-existing relationship.

Terry's family agreed to take care of any outstanding medical bills for Taylor, along with her receiving a small undisclosed amount.

The records would be expunged after 90 days.

The terms were simple and clear. I just hated how much Terry had to give up for it. The outcome was obviously unfavorable and one-sided. The single impartial party who deserved justice and compensation received none— Terry. Because of that, I felt like crawling into a hole and never resurfacing. Guilt was burning across all of my deepest thoughts, creating a pile of self-doubt and resentment in the crevices of every memory— happy, sad, or indifferent.

My faith in love had been tainted by my own doing not because I didn't think Terry loved me but because I felt like he shouldn't. Every voice in my head told me I was and should've been deemed unlovable years ago. Honestly, a person like me is not capable of accepting a love as pure as Terry's. For me, it was like carrying around a burden of responsibility that was far too delicate and overwhelming. As hard as I fought to keep the world inside my head unburdened by the plague of self-doubt, I failed— forgetting just how easy it is for me to self-destruct without the slightest potential of reprieve.

2 Hours Later

KNOCK

I was startled awake by the thunder of someone pounding on my front door. I had fallen asleep on the loveseat in my living room.

Jumping up, I attempted to make my way to the door. I used the oversized plush blanket as a cover and held it tightly against my body. I was only wearing a sports bra and micro-biker shorts.

As I walked around the edge of the coffee table, the blanket snagged the corner and positioned itself under my feet. My right foot got trapped in the sea of fabric, causing me to crash onto the floor. My knees collided with the laminated wood with vigor. I had no time to lick my wounds.

“Shit!” I yelled.

At this point, I was more than agitated. I tore the blanket off of me and tossed it to the floor. Using the arm of the recliner, I regained my footing and stood up. I placed my hands on my hips and drew in a deep breath as my body registered the pain from the fall.

Before I could make another move, the knocking began again. This time, the sounds were harder and louder.

KNOCK

Each knock sounded off, shaking the front door. I paused in fear. My anxiety peaked as my mind began to race with disturbing thoughts. I wasn't expecting visitors, so who was this?

“I can hear you inside, ‘Vana. Please, just open the door.” said a muffled voice from outside.

No. No. No. It couldn't be. Why would he be here?

“Terry?!” I yelled back in confusion and relief.

“Yes, baby! Now, can you open the door? We really need to talk,” he said.

I remained frozen in place. Losing the ability to hear, Terry's voice began to drown out.

“Havana!” he yelled again.

“Uh, Terry. I just… I don't…,” I whimpered loudly.

Before any coherent thoughts left my lips, the door swung open. I couldn't help but stare at Terry in shock.

“How the fuck……,” I asked as I approached him slowly.

“I had a key made months ago. I wanted it for emergencies. This counts as an emer….,” Terry said.

“Terry! Get out! Now!” I yelled. I was beyond frustrated and tired.

Today has worn me thin, and my patience was at its lowest. I wasn't in the mood for tolerating any form of nonsense or mess.

“No! Havana, baby… We need to talk, and I'm not leaving until we do.”

I knew I owed Terry an apology, a conversation, and everlasting grace; but I couldn't even find it in me to give myself the same.

I was battling the urge to do what I normally do—spew hateful words until the other person retreats. For the first time in my life, my body and mind actually agreed with my heart. I couldn't do it. Nothing would come out no matter how many times I opened my mouth— no words word forms and all sounds were deafened on my lips. I was unconsciously saving myself from myself, and, in this fight, I was my only opponent.

“Havana, look at me!” Terry said, grabbing my chin. Oh, how a firm yet loving hand can change things. My heart fluttered and skipped in my chest as his fingers stoked the surface of my skin.

“Terry… I… I'm sorry,” I said as tears finally broke free. “You… Y-you deserve more than I can give you. I want… I want you to be happy. I just don't think that can happen with me.”

“Mama, don—,” Terry said.

“No! Terry, just lea—leave. Please!” I yelled, pushing him away.

“Havana,” Terry said, grabbing my arms. His eyes dropped to meet mine.

Yanking away from him, I yelled again, “Ter—!”. Before I could finish, Terry's face shifted into a look of utter aggravation.

“That's it! Havana Rose,…. sit down or I'll sit you down,” Terry muttered through gritted teeth as he pointed towards the couch.

I stood there for a second frozen in shock. I never expected Terry to put up this much of a fight.

“Aight, I'm done. I'm sick—,” he started to speak as he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, “—of this shit!”.

Terry began to carry me down the hall. I pushed against his back in a feeble attempt to be released. I knew struggling was pointless, but I wasn't ready for the conversation Terry clearly wanted to have.

As we rounded the corner of my bedroom door, I could feel the tears falling with ease. There was no noise leaving my body as I silently wept. I should've prepared for this more productively. Instead, I tried to choose a coward's way out, and Terry wasn't having it.

Like always, life had a weirdly tumultuous way of making me confront my feelings.

Placing me on the bottom edge of my bed, Terry stood in front of me. His eyes scanned my face as he watched me teeter on the edge of implosion.

“Hav—,” Terry started. He squatted down in front of me and rested his hands on my knees.

As much as I wanted this to end, one question was burning through my mind— heavy and bitter as it weighed on my tongue. Unfortunately for me, the four words could not be swallowed back down, allowing the unpleasantness of the discontent to fester in the back of my throat. I knew how to rectify this feeling, and I knew how to pacify the voices in my head. But, should I, and did I deserve it?

“Do you love me?” I asked, avoiding Terry's gaze. I could see his lips begin moving, so I placed my hand over his mouth. “No, just listen to me. I want you to think about what happened. I can't even control my anger. W-what if… you wake up one day and finally realize y-you… deserve better… than me. I'm sick of pretending like… like I'm enough. Terry, we both know I'll never be enough, so let's just end this now,” I spoke barely above a whisper.

Terry's hands lifted to rest on my shoulders. As his eyes pleaded with me, I saw a glimmer of something I wish I didn't— hesitation and uncertainty. I slowly pushed his hands off my shoulders, waiting for him to just say what we already knew.

Terry didn't love me. He loved what he thought I—

“’Vana, let's get something clear. I love you with all my fuckin' heart. Just saying I love you isn't enough for me because you're everything to me. What can I do to show you that? Huh? Tell me, love. What can I do?”

I hung my head in defeat. Most women would be swooning over this, but it only added another layer to the guilt that was consuming me. Now, he was giving me unconditional love when I couldn't even allow myself the space to apologize.

“Terry, no. Please, just—,” I choked, wiping away tears.

“No, you stop. Stop beating yourself up about this. I understand that what I did made you doubt me, but don't ever feel like the problem was you. I was. I did it. All of this is on me. If I would have been man enough to tell you the truth about what happened, there wouldn't have been a fight. That one mistake caused all of this. This is my fault, not yours. And—,” he spewed breathlessly.

“Terry…,” I interrupted him.

“No, let me finish. Believe me, when I say this, I'll fight the devil himself for you. I'll climb the mountains in heaven just to find you again. I don't think you understand me, baby. I love every part of you. I hope that one day you can see that. Today might not be that day, but dammit if I don't try.”

Terry stood at his full height, towering over me. His eyes were bright yet somehow lacking their normal vitality, seeming to be void of any indication of happiness. It became clear to me that this was wearing Terry down just as much as it was me. As much as I wanted him to give up, the idea of causing him such grief and fatigue weighed heavily on my heart.

He drew his hands into fists as I watched his eyes. His face became flustered, and his breathing became ragged. Every breath choppier than the last. I could sense something brewing inside of him. His hands were shaking slightly as they rested by his side. As he unclenched and clenched his fists, his bottom lip began to quiver. His eyes glossed over, and his gaze became lethargic. No… No… This couldn't be happening.

“Terry, I'm sorry. I just feel like we can't—,” I said, standing from the bed.

Tears were streaming from Terry's eyes. The strength in his face was faltering right before my eyes.

I slowly reached out to touch his face, stroking his cheek while I wiped away the tears. He grabbed my hand, holding it tightly against his cheek.

“These… these last few weeks have been pure hell for me. I missed you so much, mama. It's like for the first… for the first time in my life, I know love; and that's because of you,” he paused for a moment, taking long deep breaths. “It was a funny feeling at first…. and coming to terms with it was hell. You only hear of women wanting to be seen and heard, but now that I know the feeling—. I don't think I could ever go back to what I thought love was.”

“Terry, you really feel that way?” I asked, sobbing with him at this point.

“Yes, it honestly scared me when I realized how much I loved you… Whew… I had to sit with the fact that I had never loved someone that much… and… and I had never been loved properly before you. Baby,… listen to me… I can say this before God and before you… that this is a love worth fighting for. Havana Rose, YOU'RE worth fighting for. Do you… please, tell me you understand,” he sobbed into my hand.

“Terry, baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't want… I just didn't know what to say,” I said, pulling him into a hug.

“You don't have to say anything. Just tell me you're not leaving,” he said, kissing the top of my head.

His hands wrapped around my waist even tighter. I rested my face in his chest and mumbled a quiet no.

How could I leave him, especially now? For the first time, my heart felt— full.

“Thank you, ‘Vana. I love you. Okay?” he said, leaning into me.

“I love you, too,” I confessed, wiping away my tears.

I reached out to touch Terry's face, tracing the outline of his jaw. As if that was all the reassurance he needed, his shoulders dropped slowly. I watched patiently as his body returned to a state of normalcy— shoulders broad, chest out, and head high.

As we stood there silently refusing to let each other go, he let out a long yawn.

“Tired?” I questioned, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he laughed.

“Wanna take a nap… uh… together?” I asked, praying that he would say yes.

There was nothing I craved more than his touch right now. I needed him bad. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long for his answer.

“Hell, yeah!” he blurted, lifting me. His hands carefully wrapped my legs around his waist.

He kneeled on the edge of the bed, crawling towards the head with me in his arms. He gently laid me in the center of the pillows. I released my legs and let them fall onto the bed.

Finally untangling from each other, Terry lifted himself onto his hands. He scooted down so that his head was resting on my chest. I used one hand to run my fingers through his velvety hair, massaging his scalp with my fingertips. The other hand soothingly rubbed his back like a baby. Terry's arms wrapped under my body, embracing me tightly. I let my lips rest at the top of his head.

“Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up,” I cooed into his ear.

2 Hours Later

Waking up to Terry's body on mine felt like home— a place I'd never been allowed to experience. As I watched his shoulders rise and fall with each breath, I released one of my own. With him here in my arms, I could breathe again.

Terry's presence was a breath of fresh air because, admittedly, he was the air that I breathed. I had never felt so attached to anyone or anything. Every part of him called out to something in me. His voice soothed my soul, his lips electrified whatever they touched, his hands… God, his hands absolved me of my suffering, and his eyes knew how to see my heart.

“I love you,” I said softly, kissing Terry's head. “I just gotta figure out how… how to love me, too.”

Terry's arms adjusted underneath me, causing me to hold my breath. Embarrassment washed over me, warming my skin. I was silently praying that he didn't hear me. Releasing a deep groan after a few minutes, I realized he was in a deep sleep again. His shoulders slumped forward, allowing his body to melt into mine.

Releasing a heavy sigh, I leaned over and kissed Terry's forehead. I knew that lifting this man off of me would be damn near impossible. I was debating on if I should wake him up or not. I shifted to one side so his hold on me would loosen. His arms fell away from my body, allowing me to scoot out from under him— barely. I carefully moved towards the edge of the bed. I slowly turned my body so my feet softly landed on the floor.

I stood from the bed, stumbling as the feeling in my legs returned. They felt like jelly as a deep tingling sensation went to my toes. I kicked my feet and flicked my ankles.

As I sauntered across the room, I heard Terry stir in his slumber. I glanced over my shoulder to see him now on his back. His arm thrown across his chest left him posed so… so… delicately like an angel. Terry’s face alone could render even the most wicked defenseless.

I smiled brightly at the sight of him. I quietly opened the bathroom door. Stopping to stare at the mirror, I took in my appearance. Yikes! I looked like… something, and it wasn't nice.

I mentally made plans to do my hair— or maybe I'll just pay someone.

Using the bathroom as quickly as possible, I reentered the bedroom and dried my hands on a towel. I glanced over at Terry to see his chest still rising and falling. I half-smiled at the sight. Walking towards the door, I entered into the front room. I closed the door softly behind me.

Before I could reach the kitchen, I heard a noise coming from behind me. The springs of my old mattress were loud and alarming.

“Havana! Where are you?!” yelled Terry from the bedroom. I could hear the bed creaking again.

I turned around to walk back to the bedroom door. “Why is this man yelling?” I asked myself quietly as I giggled.

“HAVANA!” Terry yelled even louder than the first time. The tone of his voice contained a sense of urgency and concern. Panic set in for me as soon as I realized the distress in his voice.

Sprinting towards the door, I flung it open. “What's wrong?” I inquired softly.

Terry was seated on the edge of the bed, facing the door. His eyes shot up to meet mine. The look on Terry's face made my heart thump. My breath quickened anxiously. His eyes were red, and his face was flushed. His head swayed on his shoulders as his breathing quieted. His fingers dug into the bed with a ferocious grip.

I approached him slowly. Softening my voice before speaking, I raised my hand to stroke his cheek. “Baby, are you okay?” I asked him.

Terry's eyes darted from my face to the floor. The worried look on his face cut deep as his eyes seemed to search for mine. This was not a look of simple anxiety or worry. His countenance was charged with— despair and desperation.

I leaned over to place kisses on his forehead. “Hey, I'm right here. Wh—,” I whispered as Terry threw his arms around my waist.

He pulled me into a fervent embrace. His arms felt like a second skin against my body. I felt his shoulders fall forward as his body went limp against mine. I couldn't understand the overwhelming range of emotions this man was displaying.

“I… I… I th-thought you were gone,” he said with his face pressed into my belly.

I squatted down in front of him. “Terry, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I told you that, honey,” I said, cupping his chin in my hand.

He slowly shook his head in understanding as if he was coming to terms with my words.

That's when it hit me. HE THOUGHT I HAD LEFT.

“Terry, look at me. I love you. You big baby,” I said, smiling at him somberly.

“I know. I just panicked I guess. I'm sorry about that,” he said, looking at the floor.

“Awww, don't apologize. I'm okay, papa,” I said, rising on my feet. “You hungry?” I asked him while softly caressing the side of his neck.

His head leaned up slowly as a slight grin spread across his face. “Hell yeah,” he laughed.

Later That Night

“You done, baby?” I asked Terry as I stood from the couch. I held my hand out to take his plate.

“Yeah, here—,” he started. “Wait! Give those here. I got it. You sit down,” he said, taking the plates from me.

“Terry, I could've washed them. It isn't that many.”

“Nah… I told you I got it,” he said, kissing my forehead as he walked past me.

I stood there in silence. This was so adorable to me. How could this man get any cuter?

“Ok. Fine. I'll sit, I guess.” I sat down on the arm of the couch.

Terry entered the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink. I don't know why, but the sight of this man washing dishes was so… I could feel the butterflies in my tummy going wild.

As I watched his back muscles move, I felt something. I immediately felt my panties grow damp as his shirt clung to every curve and crevice of his body.

I bit my lip as I crossed my legs. Feeling my body come alive, I released a quiet sigh. I needed this man— on me, in me, with me, however.

I repositioned myself with my legs on both sides of the arm of the couch so that I was straddling it. I was losing a silent battle between my mind and my body. I could feel my hips move slowly. There was no way this man had me grinding my pussy against a fuckin' couch. The friction of my labia and clit rubbing against the couch through the thin material of my biker shorts aided in creating the slick pool in the seat of my shorts. I knew they were ruined, but I was too aroused to stop.

I gulped in desperation, trying to fight against whatever this was. I didn't want to attack this man just yet. I knew words needed to be said and feelings needed to be discussed. I looked down at my body, covering my face in shame. I was being betrayed by the only thing I thought I had control over— myself. Every movement I made and thought I had was overpowered by him.

I was suffering, and I knew it. There was only one way to stop it. I had to feed the beast.

With eyes stricken with defeat, I looked over at him. I feverishly hummed in desperation, “Terry. I… um… I-,”.

To my surprise, he was no longer facing the sink. He was looking directly at me. I froze in shame. I watched his eyes lower as his gaze dropped. I dropped my head and looked at the floor.

“You need something, ‘Vana?” Terry asked. His voice boomed through the air. The intense weight of that question landed right where I needed it— my heart and my pussy. I was past hot and bothered. I was in the middle of having a sexual crisis.

I looked back at him and nodded. At this point, I was a needy mess. If Terry so much as touched me, I'd cum. I wanted to speak, but I knew whatever sound my lips released would be lascivious.

“I’m going to ask you again. Do you need something?” Terry asked, leaning forward against the kitchen island.

“Yeessss,” I whined.

“And what do you need?” he asked, moving to the other side of the island.

I drew in a breath and spoke, “YOU! I NEED YOU!”.

The speed at which Terry made it to me was incredible. His movements were so swift and fluid that his feet never made a sound.

His arms wrapped around my body as he picked me up. My legs instantly found their home around his waist. As soon as his gaze met mine, our lips crashed into each other's. His tongue grazed the seam of my lips, begging for entry. I parted my lips and without pause, our tongues went to war. Each of us fighting for more.

I leaned back to catch my breath. I was shocked to discover that we were now standing in my bedroom. I was too wrapped up in that kiss to notice our location changed.

Terry softly placed me in the center of the bed. He slowly lifted his shirt above his head before tossing it across the room. His hands dropped to the top of his waistband.

I watched intently as his hands moved to remove his clothes. I was practically salivating in anticipation for his pants to fall. I knew what I wanted to see. Terry sensed my eagerness and released a rumbly laugh. “Patience, baby,” he said, removing his pants.

My eyes locked into the large tent at the front of his boxers. I reached out to palm the ever-growing bulge in need and desperation. My neediness had slowly built up in the pit of my stomach becoming a slow churning ache. Terry’s hand grabbed mine and brought it to his lips. He began gingerly kissing my inner wrist.

“Daddy,” I whimpered, pulling my hand away.

Terry's demeanor shifted as his hand once again grabbed mine. Interlocking his fingers in mine, he pulled my hand towards his chest. He placed it over his heart while leaning over me.

“Nah…. Not Daddy. Terry. That's my name tonight. Okay?” he said, pressing me further into the mattress.

I stared straight into his eyes. Lost for words was an understatement. For some reason, I fully understood the intention behind his declaration. This was between Havana and Terry, and this was NOT a scene.

Moments Later

“Say it, baby. I wanna hear you say it,” Terry said, placing his mouth back on my nipple. Using nothing but the tip of his tongue, he flicked the overly sensitive bud repeatedly.

My body was growing more and more enraptured by nothing more than Terry's touch. The feeling of his tongue and hands all over my body was intoxicating. I was in love, love drunk, and high off him.

“I'm yours,” I moaned out quietly.

“And… What else?” Terry asked, switching to my other breast.

Pushing my chest up, I wrapped my hands around the back of his head. Fully enthralled in the moment, my grasp on reality slipped.

“I'm… I'm enough. I'm enough,” I rasped almost chanting into the air.

Terry's licks became suckles as one of his hands found a home between my legs.

He moaned as he found pleasure in his own sentiments. “Enough for who?” he asked back in reinforcement.

“For you!” I screamed, feeling myself come undone as two of Terry's fingers pushed into my pussy.

The gasp I let out became trapped in my throat, leaving me choking on air.

“Breathe, ‘Vana. Hey, take a deep breath for me,” Terry pleaded, knitting his eyebrows together in concern.

I swallowed hard and struggled to find air. This was too much. For the first time, I didn't know how to respond or react. The control of my body was no longer in my hands. Terry's voice quickly became the guiding light drawing me to whatever awaited me. Whether that was pleasure, happiness, or a combination of both, I would gratefully accept my fate after wholeheartedly surrendering to his every desire, urge, and craving. I was HIS, and his authority was absolute— there was no doubt about it.

“Look at me. Don't… you… ever… doubt… how much… I… love… you. Understood?” Terry demanded in between kisses as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of me.

“Y-yes. I'm sorry,” I whined, clenching around his fingers.

“All I want you to focus on is breathing. Let me handle everything else,” Terry whispered into my ear.

“Ughh….” I sobbed as tears rolled from the corners of my eyes.

“Baby, I missed you,” he cooed, resting his lips against my chin.

“I… I mi-missed you, too,” I panted breathlessly.

Terry's lips covered mine in a kiss fueled by desire, stealing my breath and filling me with his. A heavenly set of plush full lips left a soft trail of kisses along my chin until they reached the side of my neck. Tongue swiping back and forth over the supple skin. I gasped as I felt his teeth nip on the sensitive area.

Every action led to one conclusion— this was yearning in its purest form. LOVE.

“Talk to me, ‘Vana. I need to hear something,” he whispered into the side of my neck. All while his two fingers were stealing my soul— slowly.

Against my better judgment, I attempted to speak. I whimpered in delirium as my mouth released nothing but haphazard babbles. All poor attempts at speech as words slipped from my recollection. I just hoped, for my sake, that my body could tell Terry what my mouth couldn't.

As I was sinking and falling simultaneously to a place I had never been, a new question arose. Is this what being stripped raw felt like?

Without my permission, Terry had pulled me into a state of vulnerability and surrender. Using only his hands and his tongue, he had left me exposed with nowhere to hide. I was being forced to hand over my heart and soul. I was finding myself with every kiss.

To myself, I was Havana Rose Taylor. A black woman who deserved love in all forms. I was an exquisite piece of art— rare and invaluable. I was flawed yet virtuous, in my own right.

To the man I loved, I was deserving and admirable. I was the world in human form. A woman capable of love— potent and everlasting. I was desirable and alluring in every facet of the terms. I was… HIS.

And most importantly, I was enough— for me and for Terry.

A/N: Remember, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

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