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godmadeaterribleerror · 14 days ago

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Chapter 6 - Everything I Do

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), light fluff, mutual pining, light angst, love confession, smut (handjob, fingering, p in v sex), Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: The Mark reaches a breaking point. Usual Warnings, little angst, lotta smut.

Author's Note: I am of the firm belief Rowena would’ve said cunt religiously if the CW wasn’t full of a bunch of pussies.

Chapter title from Video Games by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.7k

Read on A03!

Chapter 5

Dean can breathe. Not easily, but he can. He can feel the weight of something airy and thin wrapped around him, stuck to his skin and far too heavy. There’s a hand on his brow, and it’s not the right one. Dean’s not sure what the right one would even be, but he knows it’s not this one. This one feels a little wrinkled, and the nails are too long, and it doesn’t satiate the betterlust. It’s just there, pressed to his skin like it’s looking for something and not all too pleased with what it finds.

The longer it’s there, the more the betterlust pounds and stabs and scrapes at him. Rots his guts and carves open his skull and rips through his chest. It’s searching for something that’s not there, and Dean’s head is too clouded with pain and ache and sickness to figure out where he should even be looking. Not in the hand. Not in the thing around him like a shroud–hot and clinging to him like a plague—but maybe somewhere close. Because wherever Dean is—he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t have enough of a brain to guess right now—it’s unfamiliar, but feels right. He’s lying on something soft, and it smells good, and when his fingers flex, they’re tracing over an impression left on the area next to him. An indent left on the space by something that could curve and press into Dean exactly like he wants. Craves. Needs.

The betterlust starts to flare and bellow, almost drowning out the low voices around him, and Dean knows he might die if he doesn’t find what fits into that impression and take it.

“How long has he been like this?”

“I’m not sure, a few hours?”

“Well can you try to be sure, Samuel?”

“I got here the same time you did, how am I supposed to be sure-“

“Ask our resident Dean Expert, the poor girl has been stuck with him all week-“

“No, I’m not going to make her do more. And, uh,” there’s a long sigh, and Dean still isn’t really sure what’s going on, or who these people are, or why they’re talking about him. “I don’t think it’s safe for her right now. To be around him. He said he didn’t want her-“

“He obviously lied, you idiotic boy-“

“He didn’t want her to know, Rowena. And it’s not my place to tell her-“

“She’s a big girl, she’ll survive a little bit of emotions.”

“He’d, he’d fucking kill me-“

“And he will kill himself if he does not accept what he needs! It’s quite honestly a miracle he was a stubborn enough arse to resist the Mark’s demands this long.”

Dean’s really fucking confused. There are two voices, one that sounds a little like his and one that very much doesn’t, and they’re both talking about him like he’s important. He doesn’t feel important. He mostly just feels tired, and bad, and sick. Sweaty and hungry and desperate for something he can’t name, but they say he needs to name or he’ll die, and he doesn’t even really know what names are right now-

“If I tell her, this becomes her responsibility-“

“Well, Dearie, I wasn’t aware you were stupid and blind-“

“Hey-“

“You cannot look me in the eyes and say that she would not welcome the responsibility, boy. She is so pathetically obsessed with him it makes me feel ill.”

Dean felt his mouth try to frown—he can’t figure out how to move, so it more of a twisted grimace—as he racked his mush of a brain to figure out who they could possibly be referring to. He couldn’t remember names, but he could remember presences. Remember that the voice like his was good, and he was supposed to protect it. The voice that wasn’t like his was bad, and kind of a bitch, but helpful when they ran out of options. There wasn’t a third voice, but there was a smell that he really liked. Loved. Craved. Needed-

That was the imprint. And it wasn’t here right now, but the betterlust and already spiraling around it and constricting his lungs as he tried to find it. He needed it, and it didn’t need him, and he was going to die-

“I know,” the familiar voice sighed. “Believe me, I know, but I can’t ask that of her-“

“She’ll shred your sorry arse apart if you don’t-“

“And Dean will put a bullet through my brain if I do!”

“He will die before he gets the chance. Have I not made it clear that, unless Dean receives the help our lovely, pretty, lovesick-“

Then the voice that wasn’t like Dean’s said a name, and the betterlust exploded inside him. He knew that name. He’d die and kill and cut himself to pieces for that name. He wanted it. He couldn’t have it. He needed it, more than he needs air or water or food or music. The betterlust demanded it, and was shredding apart his insides because he refused to take it, but was also lending him the strength to find it. To find Her. Dean needed to fucking find Her, or nothing would ever be good again-

His eyes fly open, and for a long movement everything is only a blinding blur of color. There’s noise around him—both voices shouting words that sound like they’re for him but he can’t understand—and Dean’s brain kicks into a vigilant, borderline feral function as he hauls himself up, something pushes him back down, and the betterlust grew feral.

“Rowena, grab the other arm-“

“I am not meant for brute labor, Samuel-“

“Are you fucking kidding me-“

Dean roars Her name clawing and grabbing at the air to try and go, try to get to Her, because he was going to fucking die, and the betterlust told him She could fix this, make this better, make Dean better-

“Oh for- Fine.”

The voice not like Dean’s says something he can’t understand, his whole body tightens. Like a weight has been dropped on his chest, and ropes have been wrapped around his limbs, forcing him to collapse back onto the bed with a noise that might have been a whine.

“Dean.” Rowena appears in his vision, her face drawn in annoyance. “Blink twice if you understand me.”

Dean scowls, but blinked twice.

“Good. Are you going to try and kill us again?”

Dean glowers at Rowena, keeping his eyes wide open in a gesture of no, and she sighs.

“Good boy. I’ll let you up, but if you ever try and grab my hair again, I’ll make you regret having hands, aye?”

The tension vanishes from Dean’s body, and he sits up slowly, pinch the bridge of his nose to try and curb the pounding ache behind his eyes, taking deep, mechanical breathes to get some fucking control over his body. Over the betterlust. Over himself.

“Dean, are you feeling okay?“

Sam looks worried. He’s frowning and scanning over Dean with concern, like there will be wound on his skin they can patch up to fix this.

But only one thing can fix this. And Dean still isn’t strong enough to not know where She is, not when all he can remember is dragging himself to Her room, and hearing her voice, and seeing her pretty face before it all went dark.

Dean mutters Her name, his voice low and gruff, and Sam and Rowena freeze. “Where is she.”

“She’s eating.” Sam mutters, bracing his hands on his hips. “I told her to get some rest. You freaked her out, dude, she-“ Sam shakes his head, giving Dean a look he doesn’t understand, and doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher. “She was really shaken, when we got back. She needs-“

“She needs you.” Rowena interrupts Sam, and he shoots her a venomous glare. “You’re too much of a meat-headed dolt to see it, but that darling girl looked as if she’d been devastated over you.”

“Rowena.” Sam hisses. “We agreed-“

“You agreed. I made no promises-“

Dean raises his hands—they both need to shut up, or his skin will fly off his body—and their argument stutters off.

“How bad is it.” He looks to Rowena, the moment alone an act of labor. “And don’t try to lie or sugarcoat it. How long I got.”

Rowena sighs. “If you insist on keeping your head up your own arse, a day. Maybe two.”

“But we’re going to try to reverse it.” Sam jumps in, his voice desperate. “And Rowena gave you something to keep you going-“

“But, as I told your brother,” Rowena’s words are harsh, and Dean appreciates it. This really isn’t the fucking time for dancing around anything. “It is a very temporary solution, and the reversal will take time you no longer have. There is an obvious fix to your little problem-“

Dean lets out a dry chuckled. “My problem? Last I checked, Rowena, you were the one who fucked this up-“

“I did not fuck anything up, you petulant man child-“

“Rowena-“

“No!” Rowena cuts off Sam with sharp words, holding Dean’s glare. “I did my job, Dean Winchester, but you are too much of an arrogant, brooding little cunt to do yours.”

Dean narrows his eyes. “Watch it, bitch-“

“I did not have to help you,” Rowena hisses. “But that poor, desperate, lovesick woman begged me to. You know exactly what you need, and you are too cruel and stupid to do it.”

Dean’s hands curl into fists on the sheets. “I said fucking watch it-“

“She’s right.” Sam mutters, and Dean’s gaze whips to him, his mouth falling open at Sam’s pitying, exhausted expression.

“I’m sorry, I must be going insane, because there’s no fucking way you just sided with Rowena-“

“I didn’t side with her.” Sam snaps, running a hand over his face as he shakes his head. “I’m just trying to get you to think for five seconds. I’m trying not to lose my brother because he can’t see what’s right in front of him-“

Dean scoffs. “There’s nothing in front of me, Sam. Rowena botched the spell, and now I can’t do anything but-“ He cuts himself off with a groan, a stab of pain twisting over his ribs, and Sam throws his hands in the air.

“For crying out loud, Dean, you’re dying because of this self-righteous, sacrificial bullshit you always pull! Rowena didn’t botch the spell, you’re just refusing to give the Mark what it wants, and until you do-“

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” Dean roars, slamming a hand down on the mattress. “Fuck, Sam, I’m not going to force myself onto her just because-“

“Because you think she’ll say no?” Sam rolls his eyes. “Dude, you can’t be stupid enough to really believe that-“

Dean scowls. They don’t fucking get it. Sam and Rowena don’t know Her like Dean does. They don’t understand that She would say yes, but she wouldn’t really want it, and Dean would stain and mark Her in a way that they’d never come back from. She’d never smile at him the same, and he’d have to die alone in the dirt when she finally got the memo that he wasn’t worth helping. When She left him, her soul more tainted than when she’d found him. When his poison sunk into Her skin, and she would still be so pretty and amazing, but ruined and marred from Dean’s touch. From how weak and pathetic and toxic he was.

He couldn’t do that. He’d rather fucking die.

“Just drop it, Sammy.” Dean mutters, his gaze falling to that imprint of Her on the bed. Her bed. Dean was finally in Her bed, and he didn’t even get to enjoy it. “It’s not happening. And you’re not going to convince me, so either fix this, or let me die without goddamn yelling at me.”

There’s a moment of wired silence, Rowena silent in the corner of the room as Sam and Dean glare at each other, and Sam shakes his head like he can’t believe Dean’s nerve. Like Dean isn’t saving the only good thing they both have. Protecting the only person that’s stayed with them, that they both love, even if Dean’s love is made of undying, animalistic, grime and dirt covered devotion, and Sam’s is purer, softer affection that could never cut and scar Her like Dean’s.

“She was crying.” Sam finally says, his tone colder than Dean’s heard it in a long time. “When we got back, she was sobbing, Dean. Have you ever seen her cry? Ever?”

He hasn’t. Dean has seen Her grit her teeth and bite back sounds of agony from injuries, seen Her scream and flail when they’ve lost people, and seen Her so angry it scared him a little, but he’s never seen Her cry. She didn’t cry. Her eyes got glossy, and her voice grew tight and choked, but she didn’t cry. Sam has to be lying, and he doesn’t look or sound like he is, but he has to be. She doesn’t cry, so why the hell would that be the truth? But why would Sam lie, and why has She stayed this long, and fuck, everything hurts and Dean’s too damn tired to figure out what the hell Sam is trying to tell him but the betterlust is scratching at his heart to know-

“Sam,” Dean swallows, watching his brother carefully. “I-“

There’s a knock at the door, and everything in Dean flies to the sound. It’s Her. Before Sam’s hand is even on the doorknob, Dean somehow knows it’s Her. Here. Maybe for him, maybe not, but the betterlust doesn’t seem to care because it’s Her-

She looks horrible. Still so fucking pretty, but horrible. There’s a slump to Her posture as she stands in the door—hair tangled and shirt wrinkled—and Her gorgeous face is slightly puffed. Her lips pouting. Her eyes lined with red.

Like She’s been crying.

Sam says Her name in question, and when She speaks her voice is hoarse.

“Look, I know you to told me to rest, but-“ Her mouth falls open as her eyes land on Dean, and Her sharp inhale feels like it shoots adrenaline right into his blood.

He tries to offer Her a winning, I’d be happy to see me too smile, but it doesn’t feel right on his face. It feels too vulnerable, where it’s always been like a shield. It feels like it’s a lie, or trick, or act of cruelty when Dean’s rarely met a woman who doesn’t flush and giggle under that attention. It’s supposed to make him feel good from their happy, hopeful eyes. It’s supposed to make them feel good from Dean’s well-crafted, carefully wielded charm.

But right now he still just feels like shit. Bottom of the gutter, horrible, flea-ridden and matted shit. A fucking piece of shit that might have made Her cry, and isn’t even smart enough to know why.

He tries again, making the smile wider, adding his most casual drawl. “Hey, Sweetheart-“

She makes a strangled sound—loud and pained, making the betterlust start to snap at Dean’s brittle spine—and all but runs to the bed, almost falling to Dean’s side as Her hands begin to grab at his face and run over his skin. Angling him for Her to examine with frantic eyes and words, igniting little paths of insatiable fire wherever She touches.

“Are you okay?!” She turns his head to the side, her fingers tracing his jaw and cheek like boils or scars might have just appeared. “Your fever is gone,” the back of Her hand presses to his brow, flipping to touch it with Her palm. “But shit, you’re covered in sweat-“ Her glare whips around to Sam, Her grip still tight on Dean’s face. He doesn’t really mind. The betterlust is still trying to climb out of his throat, but he can fight it—for Her—and this can be enough. It’s all he’ll get before he’s gone anyway. Her touch, and loud almost furious shout at Sam. “Why didn’t you change the sheets like I told you to-“

“He was dead weight,” Sam says Her name, his voice a hell of a lot kinder than when he’d been talking to Dean. “And you also told us to make sure he got some rest. Rowena said the fever broke, and he’s lucid again-“

“But this is gross Sam, and you could’ve moved him if you tried-“

“Moved him where? He started freaking whimpering when we took away your comforter-“

Dean scowls. “Can you guys stop talkin’ about me like I’m not right fucking here-“

Her gaze turns back to Dean, the odd, aggressively mind-numbing panic and care returning to her eyes as she begins to examine him once more.

“You seem better, but you’re redder than you should be, and, shit, was that scar always there-“

Her finger’s trial over Dean’s chin, dangerously close to his mouth, and he has to bite down a groan as he says Her name. “That’s been there at least a decade-“

“What about this one-“

“Three years, you were there when I got it-“

“Fuck, you’re right.” She shakes her head, Her eyes suddenly boaring into Dean’s and settling warmth in his gut. “Well, are you feeling okay? Does anything hurt, or feel sick, or feel numb-“

“Sweetheart.” He catches Her hand, and she falls silent with wide eyes. “I’m-“

“And,” She moves his gaze onto Her’s, and fuck She’s always so pretty. Even when She’s pissed at him. Especially when She’s pissed at him. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Winchester, I’ll stab you-“

He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, but maybe the realest sound he’s made since he woke up. “I don’t doubt that, Sweetheart.” He drawls, and she lets his guide Her hands away from his face. “But I promise, I’m feelin’ better.”

She nods slowly, and Dean pretends he can’t see Sam’s eye roll in the background.

“Oh. Okay.” She turns at Sam and Rowena, her voice slightly unsteady and weak. “Have you, um, have you both been in here? The whole time I was eating?”

Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” She swallows, and Dean notices Her body go slightly rigid. Sam must notice too, because he tilts his head and frowns at her.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just…” She trails off, staring at her nails as her voice drop to a mumble. “There’s a lot of people in here. Makes me nervous.”

“Shit, sorry.” Sam says Her name, his voice apologetic. “Didn’t know that. We can go, if you want.”

There’s a long moment where She’s just staring at Sam, Her mouth slightly open, and her body curled in on itself like she’d been punched. Sam repeats Her name, his voice cautious, and when She snaps out of it, her voice is still soft and anxious.

“That would be good.” She whispers. “Thank you.”

Sam nods. “No problem. Me and Rowena,” he shoots the witch a glare, and she rolls her eyes. “Are gonna go try to fix this. Text me if you need anything, either of you.”

She hums an acknowledgment, Her attention never leaving Dean as Sam and Rowena close the door, and Dean’s whole existence begins to curve into only the feeling of Her as her fingers trace over the back of his hand.

After a long moment of silence—only the sound of Dean’s heart in his ears and the shifting of blankets under their bodies—she swallows, her voice barely a breath. “They can’t fix it, can they.”

He blinks at Her. “They’re gonna get it-“

“Don’t lie to me, Dean.” She gives him a soft smile that makes her look like she’s already grieving, and something in him lights up and withers away in the same second. “Please.”

He swallows. He is really tired of lying to Her. And he can say something closer to the truth and still hold his ground. He’s not quite that weak. Not yet.

“It’ll be close.” He grunts. “But I’ve survived worse. I just gotta pull through-“

“You don’t, though.” She whispers. “Rowena said you just have to-“

“Rowena can eat me.” Dean mutters, glaring at the door. “I’m not doin’ whatever the hell the Mark tells me to, that was the fucking point of this.”

“The point was to help you, Dean.” She sounds so freaking sad, and it’s pulling Dean apart. His will and mind all being reduced to Her. Too good and pretty to be sad. And it’s just Dean. She shouldn’t be this sad over only Dean.

“Sweetheart-“

“I don’t,” She swallows, speaking over Dean with quiet, soft words. “I don’t know why you’re being such an ass, Dean. Why can’t you just do what the betterlust wants? Isn’t it what you want-“

“It is.” Dean has to push the words through his teeth, because She so close and it’s not close enough and everything fucking hurts. “But I can’t have it, so we’re dead in the water. But Sammy and Rowena-“

“Dean.”

He can’t look Her in the eyes. Her voice is so gentle and nervous, and he’s not strong enough to look Her in the eyes and see all that worry and pity in them. He can barely even grunt an acknowledgment for her to continue.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not gonna-“

“Is it me?” She whispers, and Dean’s eyes shoot to Her’s. He can’t breathe. He can’t do anything but stare at Her and try not to die as he realizes this is it. This is how he loses Her. Forever. This is the last time he gets to look at Her and bask in her beauty and kindness, the last time he gets to drown in the smell of cherries and feel a little more alive under Her touch.

But She doesn’t look afraid, or disgusted. She just looks urgent. Desperate. As confused and hopelessly hopeful as Dean feels.

And he can’t speak, or think, or do anything but stare at Her as she speaks again.

“Dean, do you,” She takes a shaking breath, and Dean needs to touch Her. “Do you love me?”

——————

He’s not saying anything. Dean’s looking at you like you’ve shot him right through his heart, ripped it out, and taken a bite. Gaping like he’s trying to ask you for it back but can’t find the breath to, blinking like he’s trying to test if you’re really there. He reaches a hand up to run over his own face, reaches out to touch you—trace broad, calloused fingers over your cheekbones and jaw, over your chin like he’s wiping something you can’t see away—and jerks back suddenly, like you’d hurt him. Burned him. Branded him.

He’s branded you. You’re never going to forget his voice in your head, sounding like he’s overdosed on something awful, and doesn’t think he’ll come back down. Like he’s trying to cleanse himself of something by whispering words that will either haunt you past the grave or feed you for the rest of your life. Your heart will never forget the way it stopped for only a second before kicking into a pace that was all too fast when Dean’s eyes closed, and your hands will always remember the cold fever of his skin.

“Dean.” You have to make your voice strong. Steady, like you’re demanding something from him and not praying to him. “Please-“

“Why-“ His voice is hoarse, almost strangled, and it makes your every muscle feel a little weaker. “Why would you ask that.”

“I’m, I can’t tell you, just please answer me-“

“Did Sam tell you-“

“Sam?” You frown, shaking your head slightly. “No, I just, this has nothing to do with Sam-“

“Then why the hell are you-“

“What would Sam have told me?”

Dean falls silent, opening and closing his mouth as he goes red, his eyes looking almost feral. He looks like a cornered animal, something starved and needy, unsure if it should bite the hand reaching for it or grab it and never let go.

You want to hold him and never let go. You want him to grab your hand, and hold it, and never think to drop it again. You want to hear him say those words again, and have his voice be certain. You want to touch him, no matter if he’s like this or breaking or furious or—in those rare, priceless moments—happy. And you need to know. Dean’s never owed you anything, and he never will, but if there’s only one thing that he can offer you in universe, it would be really nice if it was this. If Dean ever gives you anything, please, dear God, let it be this.

“Dean,” you whisper, moving your hand to his knee and holding his almost fearful, rabid gaze. “Please answer me. Tell me what Sam-“

“He,” Dean swallows, voice gruff. “He wasn’t supposed to say anything. He fucking swore he’d never-“

“He didn’t.” You repeat, unsure if he’s even understanding the words out of your mouth. “All I’ve talked to Sam about is the spell. But why-“

“Rowena.” He mutters, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “Rowena must’ve open her bitch mouth-“

“I haven’t really talked to Rowena at all-“

“Must’ve been some fucking spell-“

“Dean!” You scream, your nails digging into his leg like you can hold him with you forever. “It was you! You told me you loved me! You had a fever and you told me you loved me, you said my name, and I just,” Your voice cracks, desperation starting to break through your blood, out of your mouth in spit. “I need to know, please, you need to tell me if you meant it-“

“Sweetheart-“

“Please.” You refuse to look him in the eyes. The moment you look in Dean’s deep, pretty eyes you’ll know what he’s thinking, and you’ll lose him forever. Everything in you is screaming to know, but you’re still not able to just look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, please tell me.”

“Why.”

For a second you’re not sure if you heard him right. The question startles you enough to make you look up, and the moment you see him something snaps inside of you. He looks wounded. Nervous. Almost as afraid of you—of your words, and what they might be capable of doing to him if you use them wrong—as you are of him.

“Why would you need to know.” He rasps, staring at his own hands. Flexing in his lap, seemingly against his will. “You’re not- It’s not somethin’ you’re-“ He looks up to you, his eyes almost pleading. “Why would you give a shit about-“

“About you?”

Dean’s throat bobs, his nod short, and you summon more bravery than you’ve ever been capable of before. Enough to reach out, over the space between your bodies that so small—but still feels like miles—and place your hand on his cheek. Keeping his gaze on yours.

“I always care about you. I-” You take a shaking breath, the last words falling off your tongue. “I love you.”

Dean’s hand shoots up to cover yours. To hold you against him, with a grip that tells you he might be trying to sear his skin into yours.

“You-“ His voice is so soft. His hand over yours is like iron, but everything else about him seems to be dreamlike. Hazy and uncertain, both of you watching each other like you’re sure the other will vanish if you look away. “You love me?”

“Yeah,” you try to smile at him, and it’s not charismatic. It’s pleading and tragic and so fucking delicate. “I do. I mean, I have. For a while.”

“How-“

“Four years.“

He blinks at you. “No, I, I meant-“ He swallows, shaking his head. “I meant how. How did that happen.”

It’s your turn to frown at him. “How did that happen?”

“You shouldn’t love me.” He mutters, his hand over yours flexing. Like he’s trying to pull it away but doesn’t know how. “It’ll get you hurt.”

You raise your brows slightly, running your thumb over his cheek. “Are you going to hurt me?”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I-“

“Are you?”

“Of course not, I’d never-“

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why-“

“It does.” You whisper, folding your legs under you to rise on your knees, dropping your brow to his. Holding his gaze the whole time. “It matters to me, Dean.“

He makes a choked sound, but doesn’t move away. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” You whisper. “And it would be really cool if you loved me.”

Dean’s only staring at you, his eyes flicking between your own, slightly blurred gaze that can still see him so well, and your lips.

“And it happened,” you push on, your voice growing a little weak when he still doesn’t respond. “Because it’s really easy to love you, Dean Winchester. You’re a good man.” You offer him a smile, and his own mouth falls open just a little. “And even if you don’t love me, I wouldn’t have you any other-“

Something in Dean’s eyes flickers, and he moves before you’re sure what’s happening. Yanking you into his lap with his hand—fingers now tangled in yours—catching you with an arm around your waist, and kissing you.

Kissing you. Dean’s kissing you.

Your body sparks into action—even as your brain becomes fogged with a hazy, Dean-shaped lust—and you fist a hand into his shirt, pulling him as close as the world will allow. He’s holding you so carefully, leaning down in a slight dip, and there could be a storm raging around you instead of the soft, romantic rain this feels like it belongs to, but you wouldn’t know. Because this is a kiss people wage wars over.

It’s louder than music in your ears and electric in your blood, but sparks isn’t a strong enough word. It’s like lightning. Shooting through your spine and lighting up every nerve in your body to Dean. Soft lips molding perfectly into yours, warm and calloused hands skillfully mapping over your skin, a groan down your throat that you can feel settle in your lower gut and start a wildfire. You’ve been hungry and you’ve never dared to eat, but Dean is here now and you’ll either be starved for the rest of your life or never want for anything again.

When Dean tries to pull away, you just follow him. Chase after his lips with yours, trying to get just a little more before this all comes tumbling down. Before the thought can even dare to cross Dean’s mind—that he’s not good for you, and he should go—because this is all you’ve ever wanted and you’ll be damned if you don’t cling to it for as long as he’ll allow. You’ll fall all the way down, until your body is only supported by Dean below you, and you’ll forsake oxygen until your body demands it. Maybe a little while after, too.

And Dean doesn’t seem to care to let you go. Every time he tries to pull back it’s a jerked movement, and every time you collide again he grows more and more feral. His groans turn into deep, animalistic growls, and his touch on your skin becomes rough. Not painful, never painful, but urgent. Uncontrolled. Pulling at your skin like he’s trying to meld it into his, kissing you with bruising force, bucking up into you with his hard cock brushing your inner thighs.

You grind down onto him once—when he hits closer to where you’re beginning to ache for him, and your own need grows stronger than you’re desire to let Dean control this—and he bites you. Dean catches your lip between his teeth, sucks in into his mouth, and grins like he’s won a prize when you whine a plea of his name.

“Holy shit,” he mutters your name, pressing his brow to yours as you both catch your breath, grabbing your waist to stop the next roll of your hips. “I’m not- I can’t do this to you-“

“You’re not doing anything to me,” you whisper. “I love you. I want this.”

Dean catches your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles and staring at the movement, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it. “Say you’re lying.”

You blink at him, and shake your head. “No.”

His eyes flash, shooting back to yours as he grunts your name. “You need to say you’re lyin’ right now, or I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” You lower your face back down, until you’re sharing Dean’s every breath. “Fuck me? Actually say you want me?”

His throat bobs, voice rough with lust. “You, I can’t fucking control it, sweetheart, if you’re fuckin’ with me you need to take it back now-“

“Dean.” You grab his face between your hand, forcing his darkened gaze back to yours. “Answer my fucking question.”

He shakes his head weakly. “You don’t-“

“I love you.” You hiss. You need to make sure he feels it, in the slightly spit on his face, that still tastes a little like him because it’s pushed through lips that are swollen from Dean, and Dean alone. You glide a hand down his chest, the kiss apparently fueling something bold inside you that hadn’t been there before. Your fingers trace down, over his abdomen—hardened from work but still soft in all the best places—and Dean takes in a sharp breath, his hands on your hips tightening enough to leave a mark, and you lean back. Just enough to open space between your bodies, just enough for you to palm him through his sweatpants.

He’s huge, and twitching under your careful, light fingers, and God, you need him inside of you in any fucking way—between your hands or filling your mouth or buried deep into your cunt—but Dean’s still just staring at you. His chest heaving, eyes so dark and wanting you might cum just from his attention, and nostrils flaring as you move your hand up, resting right over the hem of his pants.

“I love you, Dean,” you whisper, the rush of confidence barreling down as you wait for him to do anything. “And you need to tell me now that you don’t love me, or-“ you take a long breath, dragging up the last bit of your nerve. “You need to say you love me, and do something about it.”

Something shatters in Dean’s gaze for the last time, and whatever war he’s been waging with himself reaches a brutal end as he surges back up, kissing you with all spit and bloody need. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever dared to have on his tongue, and he might be trying to chew off a bit of you to keep.

He won’t need to. He has you. He’s had you for a while, and when he leans back to watch you with glazed, hungry eyes, his words seal some deep, fragile part of you to him forever.

“I love you,” Dean grunts your name, scanning over your face like he’s afraid the words will yank you from his hands. They won’t. “I need you. I gotta have you, but I’m- I’m not in control of it right now-“

“I can take it.” You push your hand into Dean’s sweats, taking his cock in your hand. He groans, eyelids fluttering, and when you run your thumb over the head of him—pressing into the weeping slit and squeezing just so lightly—he hisses your name like a prayer. “Please, Dean. I want it. Please.”

You pull down his pants with your free hand, taking his boxers with them, and start to slowly pump your hand up and down his impressive length. There will be bruising marks of Dean’s hands of your hips for a while, but you’ll survive. It’s worth it, to watch him unravel below you, to see Dean’s pretty eyes grow glazed with lust for you, feel his dick throb and hips jerk under your touch, hear his low growls and grunts as his jaw clenches and he doesn’t pull you away.

“God,” he moans your name, and you start to squirm above him, desperate for a bit of your own relief. “I wanna- Wanna taste you. Fuck you. Ruin you-“

“So do it,” you slip your other hand down—trusting Dean’s hold to keep you upright—and squeeze his balls. “You say you love me, Dean, but you haven’t proved it-“

The words do exactly what you’d wanted them to. Dean yanks your hand from around him, crashes his lips into yours with a fervor that might have been dangerous if it didn’t taste and sound and feel like Dean, and lets go.

His every movement is rough and uncontrolled, because his tether over every bit of will that had seemed to keep him restrained is gone, and in its wake is only the Mark. All its lust and fury and hunger, primal and focused on you. On taking what it wants.

And you’d give it to him, even if it left a few marks on your skin and bruising on your heart, but you realize that the Mark doesn’t seem to just want to use you. If it did, Dean wouldn’t be sucking on your neck and moaning at the taste of your skin, all while tracing big, warms hands around your body to palm your breasts. He wouldn’t allow you to grind onto him, or whimper his name, or scratch at his skin as he pulls you apart with barely anything at all. When he flips your over without any effort—only a low grunt and flex of his muscles—you feel like the most priceless bag of flour in the word. Perfect to be tossed around like that forever, but worth more to him—more the Mark—than just another body.

And you can’t see him anymore, but you don’t need to. You hear the sounds of him shuffling behind you, the muffled noise of his shirt being tossed onto the floor, and then his voice. Low and feral and saying your name in a way that makes your knees weak.

“Up.” He grunts, and you whine when he angles your hips up and pulls down your shorts, you already wet cunt being hit by the cold air. “So fuckin’ pretty, gonna ruin you, baby. You’re never gonna even think about a cock that’s not mine again-“

You nod a little stupidly, wiggling your ass back into him and moaning when his still-clothed erection presses right into you. “Fuck, Dean, please-“

He spanks your pussy—just once the stinging pleasure shooing up your spine—and you bury your face in the sheets to stifles your desperate moan.

“Need ya’ to listen.” He mutters. “You’re gonna have to talk to me, baby, lemme know what feels good, what you’re likin’, what you need more of-“

“You,” you gasp, and Dean chuckles, running a taunting finger between your folds. “God, I need you, Dean, need you so bad-“

“You need me?” He pushes the finger into your cunt, his body moving to covers yours as he whispers in your ear. “Need me to fuck this tight little pussy until you scream? Goddamn prove you how much I’ve wanted you, how much I’ve always wanted you-“

“Yes.” You nod frantically, grinding your ass up into him. “Show me, please show me-“

Dean moves your head to the side, capturing your lips in a long, slow kiss, and hums in satisfaction when he crooks that finger right up against that deep, sensitive spot inside of you, and your hands start to claw at the sheets.

Then he’s gone. Without warning Dean draws back, yanks his finger out without warning, spanks your pussy again—chuckling at the high, needy sound that escapes your lips—and presses one hand to your lower back to still your writhing as he shuffles behind you

“Tell me whatcha want, baby.” He mutters, moving his hand to rub up and down your thigh. “And I’ll get it for ‘ya. But you have,“ He slaps your pussy one last time for emphasis, and you can only moan. “To say what you-“

“Your cock.” You whisper, spreading your legs wider for his to see. To look at your wet pussy—need dripping down to your knee—and take whatever the Mark is asking of him. “Want your cock Dean. Want you to fuck me, no holding back, please-“

He slams into you without warning. Burying himself at the hilt in one brutal movement, groaning above you as you go limp under him, trying only to twist and touch him, only to push back and somehow get him deeper. You feel so full, so fucking high on the stretch of Dean inside you, but it’s not enough-

“God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.” Dean starts to massage your ass, with one hand, the other holding you up in the air for him to use. “Better than I dreamed, feel like heaven, gonna fuck you so good like you deserve-“

“Dean, fuck-” you clench around him, the praise feeding right into your cockdrunk daze of Dean, and he groans.

“Don’t do that,” he grunts your name, and it sounds like an order. “I ain’t gonna last if you-“ He moans as you squeeze around his massive cock again, and pulls all the way out before slamming back into you with a growl.

Your mouth falls open, a sound like a mewl escaping your mouth, and Dean starts to fuck you. Really, properly fuck you into the mattress, with low groans and an unforgiving pace, bumping your cervix and snaking a hand around your stomach to pull you up to his chest, rubbing your clit until you’re wrecked and seeing stars, thrusting up into you like a jackhammer and keeping you so blissfully pleasured and warm.

“So fuckin’ good,” he growls your name in your ear, and you squeak. “Takin’ this cock so fuckin’ well, all warm and tight, made for me. You were fuckin’ made for me-“

Dean’s thumb and fore finger roll your clit in a tight circle, and you cum with a scream. Light and color lining your vision, the far-off sound of Dean’s filthy praise making your orgasm ride out and out and out until you’re sure you’ve reached something like heaven. Your vision is still blurred when the satisfaction has washed fully through you, and you realize Dean’s stopped moving.

His hand tangles in your hair, angling your face back for him to see, and fuck he’s so handsome. Breathing heavy in your ear, lips puffed from sucking and kiss your skin, eyes glazed but still focused on you.

You must look like an idiot. Your expression is slack and needy, your eyes glazed a lips parted, but Dean looks at you like you’re a diamond and his cock twitches inside you as your eyes meet.

“Shit, baby,” he mutters. “You gotta say somethin’-“

“That-“ You let out another moan, your pussy still fluttering around him. “Good.”

He chuckles, kiss the very corner of your mouth with a smirk. “You got full words, Sweetheart?”

You swallow, the full feeling of Dean—throbbing inside you, still rock hard, pushing against that heavenly spot but with just too little pressure to send you over once more—crashing into you, and you say the only thing you can think of.

“Keep going?”

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head. “No, I- I’ll be fine, I can take care of myself-“

“Want you to use me.” You’re practically whining, and you’d be more embarrassed if the words didn’t make Dean jerk up into you. “Please-“

He groans your name, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m not- you’re-“

“I said don’t hold back.” You whisper, rolling your hips against him and feeling pride glow in your chest at his moan. “Fuck me, Dean. I’m yours.”

And there it is again. You say the exact right thing, the thing you knew would work, and Dean gives in. He shoves you down, flips you onto your back—pulling out for only a second as he adjusts you under him—and starts to fuck you like an animal. Rutting into you at a near inhuman speed, hitting your cervix with every thrust, every word a low growl that coils release tighter and tighter in your lower gut.

“So fuckin’ greedy,” he grunts, slamming a little rougher. “Wantin’ more, begging me to fuck you, so fucking pretty comin’ apart on my cock, tell me how good it feels, baby-“

“Good,” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as the bed creaks around you, your whole body overwhelmed with pleasure. “Feel so full, Dean, feels so good, you’re so fucking big-“

He groans, and you start to babble. You’re not even sure what you’re saying anymore, because every word feels like it’s spilling from your mouth. But every inch of your brain trapped in Dean’s skin slapping against yours, his muscles flexing around you, the low and primal sounds rumbling out of his chest as his movements grow sloppy and his cock starts to throb inside of you, and you couldn’t think about anything else if you tried.

“You feel so good, Dean, please don’t stop, want you to cum, I-“ You gasp as he starts to kill up your neck, your hands shooting into his hair. “Fuck, Dean, please, so good, God, I love you-“

His mouth slams into yours, and your orgasm rushes through you like a tidal wave. Longer and powerful, leaving you so fucked out you can only whine under Dean’s body, toes curling and eyes rolling back in your head as your pussy flutters around him.

Dean pulls out, keeping one hand gently on your knee as he pumps himself with an almost blurring fist, and cums over your abdomen and thighs. It’s hot and sticky, and part of you wishes you’d had enough of a brain to ask him to let you taste it, but you’re so completely spent that when Dean collapses over you—a heavy, comfortable weight you’re more than happy to be trapped beneath—your brain wipes every other thought but Dean away, and you decide to just stay here. Where Dean’s face in buried in your neck, and your sore from all of it but there will never be a better pain to experience.

“I-“ Dean breaks the silence, words muffled in your skin. “I feel better.”

“Oh.” You huff a soft laugh. “Good.”

“What, uh, what should we tell Sammy?”

You tug on his hair, just enough to move his gaze back to yours. “That we had sex?”

“No,” Dean groans your name, a smile pulling at his lips. “About the Mark. But we should tell him that-“

You make a mock, dramatic gasp. “Dean Winchester, are you going to brag about sex to your brother-“

“It’s sex with you, Sweetheart.” He winks, rolling you both over and caging you comfortably against his chest. “And Sammy’ll be thrilled to hear it, he’s been on my ass for years-“

“Years?” You squeak. “How many years?”

He shrugs. “I dunno, all of them?”

“All of them?! What do you mean all of them-“

“I mean since I met you.” Dean starts to rub soothing circles on your back, his mouth curling in smug amusement. “Deep breathes, baby, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You flush, still not really use to the baby thing. Or Dean’s hands on your skin, every touch lingering like an imprint that will never even try to fade. “Shut up-“

He shakes his head. “Nah. You love it.” A boyish, wide smile splits over his face. “You love me.”

You might die. You might explode into a million, tiny pieces of confetti and shimmering glass, because Dean looks so happy. There are no ghosts in his beautiful eyes, no loathing or dread stained over his perfect face. He’s happy, here, with you, and you’re not cruel enough to stop yourself from crawling up his chest and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips.

“I do love you,” you mumble against him, straddling his torso as you push yourself up flat palms. “But I’m still gonna tell you to shut up.”

He chuckles, the sound rolling and humming right into your blood. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean reaches up to tuck a little hair behind your ears, and freezes, his eyes trained on his forearm. On the Mark.

“We, uh,” he clears his throat, watching you carefully. “We do need to figure out what we’re gonna do about this.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “We do. But I, I think-“

You cut yourself off, taking his hand in yours and running light fingers over the Mark in thought. Dean stares up at you with a slight awe in his gaze that makes you feel almost important, and your words fall to a soft breath.

“If you want.” You whisper. “We can turn it back-“

“No.” He shakes his head, sounding almost panicked. “I’m not goin’ back to that shit, not now-“

“Dean.” Your fingers still on his arm. “Was it me? That the Mark wanted?”

He swallows, but nods, and you sigh.

“We’re going to have separate sometimes. And we can figure out the bloodlust-“

“We should have to figure it out though, you don’t gotta put up with that-“

“I know.” You smile at him, and it’s not hard. Smiling at Dean is never hard. “But I will.”

“Do you-“ He stares at you, tangling his fingers in yours. “Do you not want me to keep the betterlust? You can tell me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, for me-“

“God, no.” You shake your head, squeezing his hand. “I’m just, I’m worried about what might happen when the betterlust decides I’m not enough. Or when this, um, when you-“

Dean says your name, slow and firm, and you swallow. “This is it for me. It’s you, and the Mark knows that. You’re gonna be more than enough, hell, you’re more than I deserve-“

“That’s not true.” You mumble. “You deserve the world.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. “It’s adorable that you really believe that, baby, but-“

You scowl at him. “It’s the truth, Dean. You’re a good man, I meant what I said-“

“I know you did.” His charming, cowboy grins falters slightly. Not falling, but twisting into one you’ve never seen before. Still roguish, still well designed and stealing your breath, but with a slight crack that allows you to see deeper. To see the lonely part of him, that really thinks you don’t belong here with him. That’s trying to drag you into him, because he’s certain you’ll start running if he doesn’t. “But this,” he nods to the Mark. “Is still gonna be a problem. I’m still gonna be a problem-“

“You’re not a problem-“

He says your name, the word careful and tender and holy from his lips. It’s the best way you’ve ever heard it. The only way you want to hear it again. “Do you want me to keep the betterlust.”

You purse your lips, and nod.

“Words, baby-“

“Yes.” You whisper. “But I need you to promise me that if it stops working-“

“It won’t.” He shrugs, his voice flat, as if he’s speaking in fact. “And we’re gonna keep looking for a way to get this son of a bitch off. But we’re doin’ it together.” He pauses, scanning over your open features. “If that’s what you-“

You lean down, silencing him with a long, easy kiss. It’s not desperate anymore, but careful. Like you’re making art, or starting to spin a web that could unravel with a single tug, but neither of you will let it. You’ll never let this—whatever this becomes—fall apart. You’ll put your whole life into keeping Dean, fighting for him and helping him and reminding him that he’s not really a burden. Letting him remind you that he really does want you, and he’s never going to allow you to doubt that again.

“Together.” You speak against his lips, letting your content breath fall into his mouth. “I’d like to stay together.”

He nods, mouth curving into a grin. “Alright then. Together.”

End Note: Thank you so so much for reading!!! I've had a lot of fun with this one, and I'm so happy y'all have as well! I hope to see some of you soon for the next one, and if not, thank you. no matter what!!

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @spacecowgirl126 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @lovewolfspirit

@lordofthunderthr @nightxcreature @underground-secrets @amberlthomas @kamisobsessed

@tcedenslash

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iikisa · 2 months ago

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heres more teacher rin au!!!!

ill have some more deets under the cut about this hehe

Welcome back aoex fandom… I’ve decided for this AU to be called “Tightrope”!!!! Haha,, yeah it’s definitely not what i was saying earlier in that ask..

But yeah!!! I’ll be tagging any post related to this AU under a tag from now on! ;)

(The rest of this will contain spoilers from the manga, but then again this whole AU has been spoilers..)

Alrighty, this time we’re going over the reason for Rin’s appearance… Just as in the manga, Rin becomes “unstable” through Yukio breaking his sword, except in this tightrope au, their relationship was much more rockier than it was in the manga. So much stuff that wasn’t cleared up, lots of avoidance, not so much emotional stability.. There’s a whole background to how Yukio and Rin’s upbringing would’ve happened in this AU because of their little aged-up situation— some events are interpreted differently to fit and others are just completely new, you can assume— so obviously things happened differently between them without Yukio being the cram school’s teacher and Rin actually attending said school to begin with…

So, now that Yukio left Rin for Illuminati, leaving him completely lonely and without a proper purpose to live for in life… Rin’s demonic nature is left in a “tightrope-like” situation.

See how the title relates? And boy does it apply for many other things too.

Where is Mephisto to help with all this you ask? Oh he tried to offer Rin help by going into the past, but even after learning of his origins (I don't think it helped his self-esteem much tbh) Rin still finds himself unable to "restabilize". Like in the manga, it's not until Rin truly accepts both sides to himself is he able to truly stabilize. This AU is obviously more heavy on the twins terrible communication and relationship, so obviously this will be harder for Rin.

For as long as he can remember, Rin's always thought of himself as a nuisance to his family. And with Fujimoto's death, everything seems to be Rin's fault and he's not stupid enough as to not notice the pattern. Unfortunately, this really eats away at Rin, especially with how distant Yukio was with him. So until Rin can learn to accept the uglier parts of himself, he won't be stable. And Yukio is the most important part for him to realize that.

Now… time for the appearance explanation.

When Rin first "unstabilizes" his hair, ears, and eyes change (other smaller details like his canines as well as the newest addition of little nubs on his forehead). The more "unstable" he is, the more prominent these features become—his hair is wholly whitish-blue, his ears and canines are pointier, his eyes are sharper and more vibrant, and his little horns get bigger.

After becoming a not-so-substitute-teacher for the cram school, these features start to become smaller or fade away!!!! Depending on Rin’s emotional state—negative emotions lead to instability and positive emotions leads to stability— his appearance changes. The happier and healthier he is, the more his black roots take place (his original hair color) and the duller his other features become!

Now as for his flames.. I think some logic may be off canon for this but it’ll be fine! He can freely use his flames like he does during the final war-against-satan arc, however, his state of stability changes how precisely he can use them. The more unstable he is, the broader and rougher the attacks. When he’s more stable, his attacks can be more precise and controlled, such as shaping his flames into weapons and other uses.

Anywho, I’ll have to start on making these differences more noticeable for the Rin’s I’m drawing out, because I do like to draw him at different times of his life (if you take note of his hair,,, its one of his best indicators ahah). But yes. Now that I’ve written this concept out (after I drew these sketches whoops) I’ll be showing off a little more of the story once some heavy inspiration hits me. I hope you guys enjoy hearing about this AU as much as I love writing and drawing it!!!!! I’d love to hear feedback or any fic recommendations..! They are my fuel.

Thank you for listening to the end, much love <3

#<3 #iikisa’s tightrope au #tightrope au #aoex tightrope au #art #fanart #aoex fanart #aoex au #ao no exorcist au #ao no exorcist fanart #blue exorcist au #blue exorcist fanart #blue exorcist #okumura rin fanart #rin okumura fanart #rin okumura

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lordsukunas · 10 months ago

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the thorn in your side.

synop: nobleman!gojo being annoying asf, but he’s also kinda cute?

tags: fem!reader, royal au, gojo is a nobleman, reader is crown princess, reader is a lil mean to him but it’s really just playful banter, slight suggestiveness..? and by slight i mean very slight. not historically accurate (don’t jump me)

note: dk where this came from. prob all of the historical manhwas thats been on my fyp but wtv. uhh this is lowk fun tho, might make more of this if i have motivation!

“princess! i got a favor to ask.”

“ohhhh, princess!”

“hey, princess?”

your eye twitches in irritation. how many questions can one nobleman have in one day? you’ve answered each one with the dignity and grace expected of a future queen, but there’s only so much of that dignity and grace one can have.

you look up from your book, bright cerulean eyes staring down at you. “yes, lord gojo?”

his grin widens, and you have to resist the urge to slap it smooth off of his face. “do you know where i can find those little cookies? y’know, the ones you had at the banquet last week?”

... seriously?! he’s asking you about macaroons?!

“i believe you’re consulting the wrong person about that. perhaps you should ask the head chef.” your voice is strained, as if answering satoru’s questions for the umpteenth time today is making you physically ill.

satoru sighs and leans back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other. “yeaaah, but i wanna ask you. since you’re the princess n’ all. unless...”

he tips his chair closer to yours, and his warm breath ghosts across the conch of your ear. tingles dance down your spine and heat creeps up the back of your neck. does he have regard for personal space?

“perhaps our kingdom’s queen-to-be is too dumb to know where macaroons come from?”

you should just ignore him. satoru’s entire purpose, it seems, is to just get on your nerves and force you to lose your well-maintained composure. you know this. and yet...

“i am not dumb, satoru. it is you who’s the idiot, considering you cannot seem to use basic logic to realize their origin,” you snap, words coming out in a hot, angry rush.

you are sick of him testing your patience, sick of his silly little grin and glossy pink lips, and stupid, ugly eyes that always seem to have a twinkle of mischief in them. how dare he speak to you that way? he’s only a nobleman, and you could easily strip him of that title.

a soft chuckle from satoru interrupts your mental tirade. what is he laughing for? is he laughing at you?

“what’s so funny.” you fold your arms over your chest, your brows knitted together.

“oh, nothing. it’s just...” he laughs again. it’s a soft, light sound, quite unlike the usual hearty and loud giggles and barely stifled snickers. yuck. “this is the first time you’ve used my first name, princess.”

ah.

did you really?

your mind replays what you said, and, unsurprisingly, he’s right. you called him satoru, not lord gojo.

the heat now burns your cheeks, and you look away, focusing your gaze on the nearly infinite rows of books in the library. “a mistake. even i make them, but do not think that will be happening again, lord gojo.”

satoru simply hums, drumming thick fingers against the table. “ah, but my name sounds so nice coming from your lips. are you sure it won’t happen again? perhaps in a different, more intimate context?”

how hard would you have to throw a book to get him to finally shut up?

you all but shove yourself out of your seat, tucking your bookmark in between the pages. you smooth out your gown and get rid of invisible specks of dust. “that... will not be happening either. good day, lord gojo. i hope i will you in the future.”

without waiting for what would definitely be some cheeky response, you spin on your heel and exit the library, rushing down the castle’s halls.

why does satoru gojo have to be so infuriating?!

#﹒writing #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jjk gojo fluff #gojo fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo #gojo satoru

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emeritusemeritus · 1 year ago

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Wanna Bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt. 1

[F.W X Reader X G.W ]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of sex, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting.

Tags will be updated along the way.

Part 1

"Oh, y/n dear, how wonderful to have you with us!" Mrs Weasley said wiping her hands on her apron before she threw her arms around you, embracing you in a warm and maternal manner as you stepped inside the Burrow.

"Mrs Weasley, thank you so much for having me," you smiled, wrapping your arms around her, smiling at the comforting feel and smell that encapsulated the entire Burrow and each Weasley inside.

"Oh Mrs Weasley," she laughed pulling apart, "how many times do I have to say, call me Molly!"

"Maybe just once more," you joked, smiling wide as she huffed out a laugh, rubbing your shoulder.

"We're back too you know," Fred said from behind you, leaning on the doorframe with George fixed to his side. She hurried over smiling, pausing briefly to hit Fred's shoulder at his tone, before wrapping her arms around both the boys at the same time. It was a sight to behold, seeing little Molly Weasley trying to reach up to give her two 6ft 3 sons a hug but it was completely heartwarming, seeing their smiles.

"Oh how lovely to have my boys back," she smiles, standing beside them. The entire scene was entirely endearing, particularly the hint of a blush that spread almost in perfect sync upon the twins' cheeks.

"Is Ginny not with you?" She suddenly asks, realising that two of her expected children were not present.

"No they're stopping by Hermione's to get some things before they come home," George replies absently, wandering over to the counter where a fresh batch of scones caught his attention, sat cooling on a wire rack. He reached for one and was immediately intercepted by Molly, earning a swift slap to his hand in a silent warning.

"Right, y/n dear," she says, turning to you with a smile. "I wasn't sure what the sleeping arrangements would be for you all so you can either share Ginny's room with her and Hermione or," Molly began to say, trying to do the mental arithmetic of sleeping arrangements until she was interrupted by George.

"She can stay with us mum, we'll move our beds together and pop up the old cot from Charlie's room," he says, sounding like he had already planned it out in great detail.

"Oh, yes I suppose that would work," she says, completely unaware of the relationship blooming between the three of you. You knew she'd never agree to you sleeping with either of the twins alone, but having the other one in the room seemed to ease her mind that nothing untoward would happen.

"You aren't making her sleep in that old thing!" She suddenly says, horrified at the thought of her guest having to sleep on the death contraption that had been in their family for decades.

"No mum, she can have my bed, I'll sleep on it," Fred says, moving forward to place his hand on your shoulder, doing his best to act innocent, though you could see straight through it.

"Wonderful," Molly says, clapping her hands together as she moves away and busies herself in the kitchen again. She shouts to the boys to help you with your bags, to which they both reply in perfect synchronisation that they already were.

They usher you up the stairs, each twin carrying one of your bags as you make your way to their bedroom. It's exactly as you remember, except it looks like it's been cleaned recently, no doubt by Molly.

"You're not really sleeping on the cot are you?" You ask, turning to Fred. He gives you a look of bewilderment before snorting out a laugh, reaching out for your hand to pull you into his chest, his right arm securing you to his body as it wraps around your waist.

"Not for a single second," he smirks, reaching up to play with a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your ear.

"But we are pushing the beds together," George says from behind you, moving closer to you both.

"And you are going to sleep right in the middle, between both of your handsome," Fred adds.

"Charming," George.

"Well endowed..."

"Boyfriends," they both say, sandwiching you between their bodies. You couldn't help but smile at their antics, realising that they had clearly had this planned for quite some time.

"So I get to sleep on the divide of the beds and fall between in the middle of the night? How romantic," you joked, reaching up to play with the collar of Fred's jacket.

"Ahh we've thought of that too," George says from behind you, reading down to place a kiss to the side of your neck.

Suddenly, both twins pull away and start organising the bedroom. Fred pulls away the small cabinet between the beds and places it next to you near the door, winking at you as he moves back to help George move the beds. They drag Fred's bed over from the right towards George's on the left and create one large bed in the middle of the room. George rushes off to get the cot from Charlie's room and unfolds it for decorative purposes in the space left behind where Fred's bed used to be.

Fred suddenly pulls back the sheets from both beds and then pulls out his wand and casts a charm you'd never heard of. The bed is immediately fixed together through magic, causing you to raise your eyebrows in amazement. He throws the covers haphazardly over the beds before doing the same to the sheets, making it one large duvet. He turns his head to you, seeing you look on in amazement and shoots a cocky smirk towards you.

"Your boyfriend's good right?" He smirks, causing you to roll your eyes slightly. George then moves the cabinet beside you towards the back of the room, sliding it under the space of the desk, kicking the little waste paper bin to the side.

"Fit for a Queen," George smiles, gesturing towards the large bed.

"Or for a fit Queen," Fred quips, gesturing towards you. "Crash test?"

You huff out a laugh at the terrible pun and move to throw yourself down onto the newly extended bed, instantly surprised by the lack of divide between the two and the fact that it was actually quite sturdy.

"You know we could test it out in different ways," George says smirking as he looks at you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You look up at him with a sultry look, liking the idea very much, before you turn to look at Fred with the same pointed look.

"Boys! Y/n! The others are here and lunch is ready!" Molly's voice radiates surprisingly well up the stairs of the burrow, effectively ending your next moves and the boys immediately huff and grunt in frustration. You offer them a sad smile before reaching your hand out to George for him to pull you up. He instantly reaches out for your hand in his large one and pulls you up towards him effortlessly.

"Later?" You ask with a small smile, reaching up and pouting so that he'd kiss you. His eyes light up just slightly as he silently nods enthusiastically before reaching down to give you a sweet kiss. You then turn to Fred who is not so patiently waiting his turn before he drags you out of his brothers arms and into his own. He also reaches down to give you a sweet kiss, though his is much more loaded than George's, his tongue licking along your bottom lip as he fights to deepen the kiss. You pull away with a chuckle, placing your hand on his chest. "Down boy," you joke and he grins down at you.

"Not me you need to be telling princess," he cheekily grins, wiggling his eyebrows and poignantly flicking his eyes down to his groin, which seems excited to say the least. You bite your lip and drag your hand down his chest towards his excited member, placing your hand gently over the bulge in his trousers. You flick your eyes up to his face as he stands with wide eyes and his lips parted in a little 'o' shape, following your movements very carefully.

"Down boy," you whisper, teasing as you suddenly pull your hands away and move to walk out of the bedroom door. You can hear George's laughter as you descend the stairs and then a little commotion and 'ow' from George, no doubt caused by Fred.

You greet Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the kitchen, followed by George only a minute later and then by Fred five minutes after that. You don't miss the little mock glare he shoots you as he takes a seat at the table, one twin either side of you. All you can do is give him a little innocent, doe-eyed smile before you focus your attention on the array of food that Molly had prepared.

"So, y/n, what are your plans whilst you're here?" Ginny asks you from across the table, pausing at the end to frown at Ron who had shovelled as much food as possible into his mouth and then asked, with a mouthful of food, for Harry to pass the bread rolls.

"I'm not really sure," you smiled with a little shrug, not really considering what was on the agenda.

"She's busy, whatever you've got planned," Fred says bluntly as he pokes at his food, already disliking the idea of you spending time with anyone else whilst you were away from school. You immediately elbow him roughly in the shoulder, earning a laugh from George who watches on silently.

"Never too busy for you Gin," you said, winking at her with a smile. She smiled back and began talking about you girls having a sleepover one night, which did sound fun. Fred muttered something under his breath but you gave him a swift kick to the shin under the table which George snickered at, keeping quiet himself as to not also feel your wrath.

As soon as Fred and George had finished eating they all but dragged you away from the table and up to their bedroom, pausing only briefly for you to shout out your thanks to Molly for a wonderful lunch.

As soon as you were back in their room, you threw yourself down onto the bed, rolling to lie on your stomach as you watched them pull out their trunk of tricks. You'd already agreed earlier on that morning on the train home that you would help them with their new idea for their business, some sort of new confectionary, no doubt with a sinister twist.

From your conversation and actions before lunch, you'd assumed the boys had dragged you upstairs for another reason entirely, but it seemed that their current developments had overshadowed their needs. You had to hold back a laugh at the pair, realising that they were the only two men you knew that would focus on their pranks over sex with their girlfriend.

They had assured you not long after that they had the afternoon and evening all planned out and they would only spend a little time doing this before you could do something more exciting, something you'd really enjoy.

"So they're like puking pastilles but not?" You asked from your position on the bed, bent legs swinging behind you as you watched them concentrate on their project. Fred simply nodded, eyes never once leaving the prototype, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he tried to perfect the recipe.

"Kind of, angel," George explained, using his nickname for you, flicking his eyes up to yours as he spoke, "but they don't make the eater sick, just make them turn pale and sickly looking."

"Ahh make them turn into a Weasley then," you joked. George immediately threw a piece of whatever he had in his hand at you in retaliation and Fred simply snorted, still focusing on the task at hand.

It was the most you'd spoken since they began tinkering, their full attention and focus on their creation. It wasn't exactly the day you had in mind and you were quite frankly thoroughly bored, something you very rarely were in the presence of the Weasley twins. You couldn't blame them, they were in the development stage of their new product, which meant perfecting the recipe and then the antidote which took time and patience.

"Are you adding them to the skiving snack boxes?" You asked after a few more moments of silence, trying to occupy yourself as you sat bored in their room.

"No, they're more like an additional add on," George explained, reaching up to grab something beside you on the bed, briefly pausing to touch your leg as he leaned beside you.

"Ah a savvy business move," you replied cheekily.

When it fell silent again, you rolled over onto your back and stared up at the disjointed ceiling, watching how the wooden beams interlocked at awkward angles and looking at all the various memorabilia and stuff that littered the walls of their room. You briefly considered going to visit Ginny and the others before your eyes started to close on their own accord.

———————————

"Bugger bugger bugger!"

You frowned at the sudden burst of noise, your eyes struggling to open and then focus as you realised you'd fallen asleep on the bed. You sat up, squinting at the light from the windows around you and watched in confusion as George paced around the room in a tizzy.

"George?" You asked weakly, your voice not quite working yet. He turned around with such a speed it was almost alarming. His face looked panicked and nervous and you immediately sat further up in concern, your sleepy haze fading rapidly as worry took over you. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Fred, I told him not to but you know what he's like when he gets something in his head and he wouldn't listen," George babbles, messing with his hair as he paces the room.

"Fred? What's wrong with Fred?" You asked, trying to figure out what George was saying.

"He ate the bloody thing!" He says, throwing himself down onto the rickety metal cot in the corner of the room. It suddenly all made sense to you and a lingering unease settled in your stomach as you thought about the dangers.

"Where is he?" You asked quickly, worried that he wasn't in the room.

"Toilet," George mumbles, running his hand through his hair again.

You immediately leapt off the bed and ran out into the corridor, trying to be quiet as to not alert anyone else as you quickly scaled the wooden staircase that lead up to the next level of the burrow where the toilet was.

You quietly knocked on the door, "Freddie?"

You heard a brief, slow shuffle on the other side of the door and the door creaked open to reveal Fred who looked bloody awful.

"Bloody hell," you said without thinking, looking upon the appearance of your boyfriend. He quickly pulled you into the bathroom and closed the door behind you both. You scrunched your nose at the vague smell of sick that hung in the air but you quickly got past it, moving to stand in front of Fred.

He looked ghostly pale and a little green in his undertone, sweat forming like droplets on his forehead where he had pushed back his hair. His eyes looked sunken and dull, no longer twinkling like usual and his under eyes were almost purple looking. You tried not to react, already feeling bad about your subconscious outburst at seeing him and tried to wipe away a few beads of sweat off his brow. To your surprise, they wouldn't actually wipe off and had become an effect of the sinister sweets they'd created. "How you feeling Freddie?" You asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"At least we know they work, a little too well," he says, deflecting the question. He suddenly lurches away from you and shuffles quickly to the toilet as he heaves whilst clutching his stomach, though nothing comes up. "Sorry," he cringes in embarrassment at you seeing that, "thought I'd got through the worst of that."

"How long does is take for the antidote to kick in?" You asked, concerned about the lasting effects, not knowing exactly how long ago he'd eaten it. He didn't verbally reply but instead gave you a little uncomfortable smile, telling you everything you needed to know.

"Fred Weasley!" You whisper yelled, striking him in the shoulder as you realised he hadn't created the antidote yet. "You frigging idiot!" You hit him again and he just stood there and took it, though he did seem to lose a little of his balance.

"It was more to test out the taste," he said quietly, as if it was an excuse for eating the contraption. "Which definitely still needs work by the way, bloody awful aftertaste, too much caramel." You shot him a look of utter bewilderment as he heaved again, frustration building in you as he didn't take it seriously at all, despite looking like a walking corpse and heaving all over the place.

"Come on, you need to lie down," you said, extending your hand to his to lead him back to his bedroom. You lead him down the stairs and into his and George's room, carefully avoiding anyone else in the house.

"Bloody hell," George said, looking up from his hands, not moving an inch since you'd left, as his brother entered the room, seeing him look absolutely awful.

"At least we know it works," Fred says with the hint of a smirk, though his eyes still looked sad and glimmer-less.

"Bed. Now." You ordered, annoyed at his joking especially at a time like this. Surprisingly, Fred complied without any qualms and threw himself down onto the bed, his eyes closing in relief as he lay there. You tipped out a few loose crumbled papers from the waste bin next to the desk and placed it beside the bed incase he needed it.

"George, can you get him some water please?" You asked, turning your attention back to the notes they'd made on the recipes, trying to figure out if any of the ingredients had a reverser you could use to cancel out the effects.

Fred heaved again and you tensed, turning to offer him some help, only to see him half flinging out of bed to lean over to the bin. You stood and reached out for the bin and placed it into his arms, where he kept it secured and never out of reach.

"What do you mean he's sick? Fred, er, George move out the way!" You heard Molly's voice getting louder and louder, matching the influx of panicked footsteps that seemed to be running up the stairs. She immediately burst through the room and made an ungodly sound as looked upon her son, seeing his frighteningly pale complexion and overall malaise as he clutched his bin, looking helpless.

"Oh my boy," she said, running over to him. She immediately put the back of her hand towards his head and frowned at feeling a lack of temperature.

"That's odd," she mutters. "Are you two okay?" She asks, turning to you and George who are standing off to the side, both a little scared of her reaction and Fred's symptoms.

"Yeah mum."

"Yes Molly," you both replied at the same time, trying to sound completely sincere.

"Did he eat anything on the train?" She asks, trying to smooth his hair down in the front to keep it away from his face. You could tell he tried his hardest to hold back the impending heave but he couldn't hold it any longer and dry heaved once again into the waiting bin.

"Cauldron cake," you said, thinking quickly, "he did eat a cauldron cake on the train, but we shared some fizzing whizbees, didn't we George?" You looked at George, imploring him with your eyes to go along with it.

"Yeah," George said suddenly nodding as he looked at you before turning to his mum, "maybe the cake was bad?"

Molly mumbled something in frustration as she looked at Fred before zooming out the door, muttering something about her apothecary kit which might be of use.

"Georgie," Fred says quietly as he tries to get his brother's attention. George moves closer to Fred and leans down so that Fred can whisper in his ear. You frown, watching them secretly converse, wondering what they are saying.

Molly returns not a moment later, armed with an array of various potions and elixirs which could hopefully cure Fred.

The truth was, the only thing that was able to cure their inventions quickly were the antidotes, otherwise the symptoms would stick around for roughly 24 hours at most, the effectiveness of the enchanted foods rapidly decreasing once the 12 hour mark passed with the entire malady vanishing after 24 hours. You and George both knew that Fred would be okay tomorrow but it wouldn't hurt for him to at least take some of the potions to ease his queasiness.

"Here eat this, slowly, that's right," Molly says, thrusting some form of wafer towards Fred. He pulled a disgusted face as he ate it but to his credit he did manage to consume it without gagging and keep it down. "Dehydrated ginger root, it should help with the nausea," she explained to no one in particular as she faffed about in the little case, searching for a specific bottle. She eventually gave up and pulled out her wand, mumbling accio to bring the thing she needed to the front.

"Here, drink this, it's dandelion root and burdock oil, it will help with your complexion and ease your tummy," she said to Fred, smoothing back his hair again as another wave of gagging ran through him.

He took slow sips of the potion and raised his eyebrows at the taste, clearly not expecting it to be so tasty.

"We have that at home," you said, not really sure of why you said it but it was funny to see the wizard if equivalent to a muggle drink.

"Really?" Molly asks, turning to you with a surprised look on her face.

"Yeah but it's just a fizzy drink, not really medicinal anymore," you explained with a laugh, feeling a little silly about your random tangent.

"We need to get some," Fred mumbled, drinking down the rest of the potion enthusiastically, causing Molly to loudly warn him to take it steady.

"We could nip into the village and get some for you?" You turn to George, asking him with your eyes if he'd join you, "I know where they sell it." George nodded with a little shrug. You then turned back to look at Fred and Molly who looked at you in surprise, "if it would make you feel better." Fred nodded enthusiastically with a little smile, already seeing a little more colour coming to his face.

"Oh, how lovely, what a lovely gesture," Molly said with a warm smile. "You can take your father's car, as long as you are safe," she said, fixing George with a look of warning.

"How little you think of me," George said sarcastically.

"Or how well she knows you," you snorted, reaching behind him to search for a sweater in your trunk.

"I'll go get the keys," Molly says, taking her apothecary case with her as she moves out of the room.

"Fuck," you mumbled, still searching for a sweater but not finding any.

"What's wrong?" George asks, moving to stand behind you.

"I can't find my sweater," you mumbled again, trying to dig through your belongings but coming up empty handed.

"We've got plenty, borrow one of ours," George says casually, walking straight over to the drawers on the left side of the room and pulling out a thick knitted cardigan that you'd remembered the both of them wearing to the quidditch World Cup. "This okay?" He asks, extending it towards you.

"It's perfect, thank you," you smile, reaching for it and slipping it around yourself, feeling the warmth and coziness of it already, the wonderfully comforting scent of the twins surrounding you. You couldn't help but raise the fabric of the sleeve up to your nose for a closer smell, your eyes closing as you smiled at the scent. You could tell this one was Fred's from the unmistakable but subtle marshmallow sweetness of his natural scent which George didn't have.

When you looked up, the boys were both watching you with smirks on their faces, clearly seeing everything you'd done. You blushed under their intense gazes and turned away, grabbing a few things you'd need and placing them into the little bag you'd brought, making sure you had your little coin purse of muggle money.

"You ready?" You asked George, who was stood next to Fred quietly talking. He turned and nodded, mumbling out 'nearly' and walked over to the little wardrobe hidden in a nook in the corner before pulling out a blue patterned shirt. He slipped off the polo shirt he'd been wearing and you couldn't help but watch as he stood shirtless, slipping into his blue shirt and slowly buttoning it up. You couldn't take your eyes away from him, admiring his naked torso and staring at the small patch of hair on his chest and the beautiful trail that started just below his naval and stretched downwards. He looked at you, amused with his eyebrow raised as he caught you looking and for the second time in minutes you couldn't help but blush. "Ready," he said with a firm nod, appearing by your side.

"Do you want anything else?" You asked, turning to Fred but found him sleeping, clearly exhausted by his sickness or one of Molly's potions had knocked him out cold. George reached for your waist and smiled as he guided you out the door, slowly closing the wooden door as to not wake his brother as you both went on your little adventure.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #harry potter #emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley #Weasley twins x reader #Weasley twins x you #Weasley twins master list

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ahundredtimesover · 2 years ago

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love love love the plm jealousy drabble! can you also write a super needy, subby plm koo 🥹 only if you have the time and energy! Tysm 🫰🏻

This is 5 months late but here it is - my take on "subby" Koo even if I do not know how to write this kind of dynamic. But I tried with CK JK in mind so I hope you like it. There's also lots of fluff and teasing and walking down memory lane and this is me, making up for the past 2 angsty parts. 🙂

Title: Please Love Me Bonus (09) - The Lake House

WC: 16,648

Tags/Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, past illness; CK JK, lots of teasing and fluff; talks of past sexcapdes; explicit sexual content ("subby" JK & OC trying to be a "dom" (??), mutual masturbation, thigh riding, oral (m & f receiving), straddling, fingering, lots of kissing, penetrative sex, creampie??) (18+) I’m obviously unsure of my smut pls forgive me 😅😅

Series Masterlist

“Am I making your heart flutter again, Mrs. Jeon?”

Jungkook smirks as he asks, his body turning towards you when he reaches the stoplight.

Seated on the driver’s seat with his one hand on the wheel and the other one on yours, you shyly smile, knowing you’ve been caught, even if you weren’t really hiding your obvious attraction for your husband on this specific day.

He’s got the short sleeves of his plain white shirt rolled up, his arm tattoos looking bright under the summer sun. His hair is curlier than usual as it’s grown longer, and paired with the denim jeans that you asked him to wear, he’s an absolute stunner.

“You know the answer to that, hun,” you giggle, briefly looking away before he tugs your hand to look at him again.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby,” he urges, his eyebrows wiggling now.

You know that he’ll take any chance he has to hear you confirm that you’re ogling him, and well, you’ve told yourself that you’ll do that every few times just to see him be a giggly mess.

“You are, Kook,” you concede. “My heart’s non-threateningly leaping out of my chest right now. You’re so handsome and you’re so happy; it’s my favorite version of you.”

“Ah, I thought post-shower Jungkook is your favorite,” he teases. “But you also said that about post-sex Jungkook, and post-gym Jungkook, and Jungkook with his glasses on, and—”

“Oh stop it,” you laugh, getting flustered at him pointing out just how weak you are for him. He’s not wrong, though. “They’re all my favorites.”

“You can’t have more than one favorite though,” he playfully rolls his eyes.

“So then what’s your favorite version of me?” You ask, challenging him.

“The present one,” he winks. “Today’s you is my favorite as of today; yesterday’s you was my favorite as of yesterday, and then the day before that was… you get my drift. Each one has been my favorite and it changes everyday.”

“You’re a cheater,” you shake your head.

“I am a lover, babe. I love every version of you.”

You cover your face as you feel embarrassed for you and him, and you’re glad you’re the only two people who are witnessing your husband be incredibly cheesy, which happens every once in a while. You know he does it to make you laugh but you also know there’s truth to the things he says, no matter how cringey they could be sometimes. He loves you that way, and you like that he does.

“Do you love the version that upsets you, too? And that cries and gets sad when you’re away?” You wonder out loud, knowing that any reference to your recent fight and its aftermath doesn’t hurt you both as much as it used to.

It was two weeks ago when he took the 4-hour drive from Busan to Seoul to be with you, and you’ve both been more comfortable talking about the things that hurt since then. It’s how you managed to get back to how things were, playfulness included.

“Of course, babe,” he says, more serious and softer now. “I love you even when I’m angry. And even if it’s hard to see you cry, I love it when I get to hold you again. And then, you know, we have sex and then you talk dirty to me.”

“Kook!” You squeal, feeling your cheeks warm at the reminder.

You’re rarely ever vulgar during sex, letting Jungkook take the reins in all ways including vocally, but that night, you felt so much desire that you just wanted to push him a little, perhaps make him feel how he makes you feel, and your words did what you wanted them to. He came so hard and you basked in the joy that you could do that to him. Thinking about it now makes you shiver, and you truly can’t wait for the long weekend you’ve been afforded to go out of town and be together, knowing what you’ll be doing most of the time.

“Why are you shy about it?” He chuckles, taking your hand from your face and kissing it. “It was so fucking hot, okay? And since you don’t do it much, it surprises me whenever you do, and that’s just… shit I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

“Honey, behave,” you laugh, although the thought that he could get turned out at the memory of that night makes you giddy. Perhaps that version of you could show up in the next few days.

“I will,” he smiles sweetly now. “But you know it doesn’t matter, right? You could just be lying in bed and sounding the way you always do and that’s all I need. It doesn’t take much to make me happy. Just you.”

Your nose scrunches as you try to temper your smile, but it gives him more reasons to tease you.

“Your heart fluttering again?” He wiggles his eyebrows now.

You pout in response and he can’t help but laugh, and the sound of it warms your heart in ways you can’t fully express. You were without it for weeks, as you recall the days following your stint at the hospital, how Jungkook had been cold to you until things blew over, and how he was distant right after because he didn’t know how to handle all his conflicting emotions towards you. Looking back now, your biggest fight since getting married was because of how much love you both have for each other, and that says a lot about how far you’ve come.

Despite the weeks since then having been tough for Jungkook because of the meetings and project preparations he had to manage, he made sure to go home to you, hug you every night, message when he can’t call, and let you know that he needs you even when he’s just about ready to pull his hair from stress. And you were there, letting him lay on your chest, massaging his head, and kissing him constantly to let him know that you’ll weather the storm with him, no matter how tough things get.

After getting things going and delegating the tasks for his project, Jungkook got the approval from his father to get two days off, which is why you’re both on the way to Busan, having missed home so much. You’ve both only visited since you got married but never stayed long enough to go around, and like what you both promised each other, you’ll make new memories in the places that hold unpleasant ones. Home felt the same but you’re both different now, and the flirty smile that Jungkook gives you is evidence of that.

Perhaps it’s his feeling of temporary freedom that makes him look a lot more handsome today; he’s smiling and laughing and teasing, and it’s when his youthfulness shines. Perhaps it’s the way the sun highlights his caramel skin, or the way his curls fall on his shoulders, or maybe it’s the casual look that isn’t his usual sweatshirt and joggers ensemble that’s making him look even more irresistible. Maybe it’s everything, as he bops his head to the sounds of his playlist, his carefree vibe somehow making him glow.

Maybe you’re just as excited, and so everything he’s done since this morning is probably just preparing you for what’s to come.

You’d stopped to watch him dress up earlier and commented that he could be a jeans and underwear model, and he’d laughed, saying that in contrast to his younger years, he no longer feels comfortable walking in his boxers around strangers. He had to clarify that he joined some community fashion show during one of his backpacking trips because his companion convinced him and he was a hit; everyone was cheering and then flirting with him afterwards. He’s done with that, he’d said. You’re the only one he wants to see him that way; he’d give you a private show if you wanted, he teased.

During your stopover at a cafe for breakfast, he was sitting on the chair with his legs spread wide while sipping his coffee, and you allowed yourself just about a minute to imagine climbing on his lap and marking his pretty neck while he moaned your name.

And this whole drive, he’d been nothing but a tease - combing his hair with his fingers, dragging his tongue along his lips just because, and singing along to love songs while smirking at you. All the while, you’re smiling like a giddy teenager admiring her crush, and Jungkook makes sure to call you out on it. But you don’t mind, really, not when he stops at a shoulder on the road just to kiss the pout off your face and tell you that he becomes such a giddy mess every time he sees you be a mess yourself for him.

“Kook,” you whine against his mouth, wanting it all over you even if you know it’s not the time nor place. “We have to go to our grandparents’. You know they don’t like it when we’re late.”

“They miss us too much to get angry,” he argues, as he presses kisses down your neck.

“We’re still out on the road and in public,” you counter, panting now as your pleasure increases. “And I don’t want to go into that lunch with messy underwear because that’s what’s about to happen. Please, hun, I—” your moan cuts you off when his fingers press onto your clothed pussy, feeling now the effect he has on you.

“Hmm, baby,” he groans, suddenly frustrated at not being able to do anything more right now.

He shouldn’t have teased you like this but he also couldn’t go on another minute not kissing you after you looked at him the way you’ve been all morning. There’s this perpetual desire in your eyes, as if you’re savoring every action that he makes, perhaps coming up with scenarios in your head that he hopes you’d play out once you’re both alone. He suddenly wants to fast forward to tonight for that, knowing it’ll take you until the early hours of the morning to get fully satisfied.

“We should save all this energy for later, okay?” You say, taking his fingers that felt you up in your mouth, wanting to get back at him but also wanting to excite him; his hardened gaze says you succeeded. “In the meantime, we have to act like the precious, wholesome couple that our grandparents think we are.”

“Hey, we’re wholesome sometimes,” Jungkook laughs, willing himself to pull away from you and continue driving. “But, uh, do you think they’ll ask us about having children again? I don’t really know what to tell them; we can’t really ask them to not be on our business like we can with our parents. I just don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“I know, same here,” you sigh. “But Mother told me that she told them not to bring it up, since I have to focus on getting healthy again after what happened. Hopefully our grandparents won’t hound us about it.”

“If they do, then let’s just be honest.”

“And say what?”

“That we’re living our best lives and we’ve decided to let life surprise us,” Jungkook says. “And that it’ll come. And when it does, it’s gonna be really special because we prepared ourselves for it. Because that’s what we’re doing, right?”

“It is,” you smile, liking how he’s able to talk about having children in a casual manner now, with less of the fear and more of the excitement.

You may still be just letting things take its course - with some false alarms along the way - but the challenges in between have been helpful in preparing yourselves for eventually starting a family. You know that when it happens, it’s going to be everything you imagined it to be.

Your grandparents’ estate is not far from the beach. They bought a humble home in this area decades ago and slowly expanded the property by buying the surrounding land, until they were able to build a large main house with smaller living quarters for when their children and grandchildren visit.

The garden is large and well-designed. You claimed a section of it when you were young. It’s where you had your playhouse set up because playing in it was the only thing you could do; you weren’t allowed to run around like Seokjin and Soyeon were. There was a spot where you laid your mat to play with your dolls; as you grew older, it became the place where you’d read books or paint or draw. The playhouse is still there, a little old and rusty but you imagine your future children playing in there one day.

There’s a tall tree in the center and you stand underneath. It’s the one that used to shade you when you would watch your siblings play with the Jeons.

Apparently, it’s also the spot of your first picture with your husband, as you find out from your grandparents. Your grandmother holds an old photo they recovered from one of their albums - you and Jungkook at 2 years old, standing next to each other, with him in a red hooded jacket and you in a yellow sundress. There’s distance in between, but you’re both posing the way little kids do, and you can’t stop gushing over how adorable you both looked.

“Honey, look at us!” You giggle. “Two years before you started disliking me.”

“You mean, 2 years before you rejected me?” He counters, pouting at you.

You both pose the same way for another photo - Jungkook with a peace sign by his head and you with your close-lipped, sweet smile - and lay the polaroid next to the old picture, over 25 years apart. It’s amazing how things play out, you think to yourself as you gaze at them. Life does surprise you, and realizing it decades later is a different kind of special.

Jungkook makes you take another photo so he has a copy, and you indulge him, knowing he gets pretty sentimental about these things. He said once that he wishes he had more of your joint childhood to remember and treasure, but much of that only lives in your mind because you’re the one who always paid attention; he was the one who tried not to mind you even if you were right next to him, the jealousy clouding his mind. Which is why whatever piece of your past he finds, he’ll take it, if only to put together the puzzle of your lives back then, and smile because even if he doesn’t remember much of that, he remembers everything about this - your now and everyday.

He goes through other old photo albums of your grandparents, telling his grandparents that he’ll check their stack as well when you both visit on your last day. It’s stories of the yesteryears that fill the air as you finish your meal, and you’re thankful that everyone is immersed in the stories to even bring up your sickness or your future family.

The sound of Jungkook’s laughter fills your heart once more, and as he pulls you close under that same tree for a kiss, you think that it’s another new memory you’re going to hold dear.

Pulling up to the side of the road, Jungkook turns off the engine and meets you by the railings overlooking a semi-private beach. It’s one of several in town and Jungkook’s favorite. This is where he first learned to surf and he spent much of his time here with Jimin and Taehyung.

He tells you this as you both walk down the steps to get to the shore, reminiscing the days when things were much simpler.

“So that’s why you chose this for your 13th birthday party,” you say, looking around. “It’s gorgeous, Kook.”

“You knew I had it here?” He looks at you curiously, immediately thinking that Junghyun had told you.

“Yeah, I could tell from that big rock,” you say, pointing to it near the shore. “You had photos there and your brother told me how your mom was yelling at you to not jump from it. I… I asked him to show me pictures when he visited me at the hospital. I told him I wanted to see how happy you were.”

“You were recovering from surgery but you were still thinking about me, huh?” Jungkook says, a sigh almost escaping his lips at the thought.

“You were really excited about it and I was sad I couldn’t go. If I was strong enough, I would have, but I guess you wouldn’t have noticed either way,” you laugh, knowing that Jungkook didn’t pay much attention to you then.

“I was pretty bitter, actually,” he admits. “You were supposed to be family but you didn’t come - that was the thought in my head. Silly, right? And pretty childish.”

“You didn’t know, Kook,” you assure him. “So you were looking for me?”

“Sort of,” he laughs. “I was being petty. I remember not wanting to ask hyung where you were so I never did, but I just chalked it up to you never attending parties anyway, so what would be different about me?”

“Yours was the only party I would actually go to, but I didn’t want to be the boring girl to you who just sat at the table while everyone enjoyed,” you reason. “So I never went to the ones after that. I always wanted to, though. But that doesn’t really matter now, does it?” You turn to him and smile before you wrap his arms around your waist. “I’m literally family and we’re here together. I think this is a nice good memory to make.”

“It is,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I’m glad I took you here with me. Immature 13-year old Jungkook can get over it now. If I told him I’d be marrying you 12 years later, he’d probably cuss me out.”

“You were cursing at 13?!”

“Yeah. Don’t tell my Mother.”

You laugh together as you head back to the car, the late afternoon heat starting to prick at your skin. It’s been a long day but you’re nowhere near done. You take the half-hour drive to your home for the next few days, a place that holds a lot of unpleasant memories for you, which is why you insisted on staying there.

One of the Jeons’ beach houses would’ve been an easy choice, but when you told him where you wanted to go, he immediately understood.

With your luggage bags in his hands, Jungkook looks around the graveled pathway and at the cabin in front of him. “So this is the place, huh?”

The place, he repeats in his head - the one where you found refuge in when you wanted to be away from him after he’d hurt you. That fight before your wedding was years ago but sometimes, it still feels like not much time has passed. He gets to see where you spent your days though, and while that may remind you of how hard it was back then, you could at least remember it now as a place where you both spent your weekend together.

“This is the main house,” you say, ringing the doorbell and greeting the caretaker who welcomes you. You smile at the lake view just across; it calms your senses as it did all those years ago. “They only allow a small percentage of land to be used for residential purposes. When my siblings and I got older, my parents wanted to give us our own spaces, so they bought the surrounding areas so we can build our own houses however we want.”

You walk out to a covered pathway that leads you to your own piece of paradise - a one-floor home with a veranda that’s overlooking the lake. It has an open floor plan with the kitchen and dining on the left of the entrance. At the center is a freestanding wall that separates the sleeping area from the living room, both spaces having a good view of the water. The corner on the left houses your painting materials, giving you access to the outside where the magic happens.

There’s a stretch of land down the steps towards another walkway that juts out to the lake, and as you lean by the railing, you take in everything that you see. It’s been years but a lot of things look the same, and just like this city, it still is; it’s you and the man next to you who are different.

“So what did you do while you were here?” He asks, trying to imagine how you spent your days while he wasted away in your apartment in Seoul.

“I… cried,” you admit. “I was upset but I still missed you. But I also painted a bit, read books… Most times I just sat here. It’s so picturesque, you don’t really get tired of it. It helped because I kept thinking about you being alone and worried even if I wasn’t ready to speak with you then.”

“I was thinking of you a lot back then, too,” he says, facing you now and taking your hand. “I hated that you were alone and I didn’t know how to get to you. But I guess I should thank this place, too, for letting you breathe and letting you think. Is that how you forgave me?”

“It was,” you smile. “After my emotions settled, I thought that one day, I’d like to bring you here. I’m glad I could do that now.”

Jungkook smiles at you softly before his eyes turn desirous. “So are you gonna paint and read books and just sit out here this time, too?”

“Hmm, I could,” you smile back. “But I was also thinking of making love to you here. I think that would be nice.”

“It would be,” he hums, cupping your cheek now and pulling you in for a kiss. “We could probably start now, huh?”

His free hand sneaks inside your dress to cup your breast, and you jerk when he flicks your pert bud and you’re taken out of his spell.

“Honey, I’d love that but we have a dinner reservation soon,” you say, pulling away. “It’s jazz night and we said we’d catch that.”

Jungkook doesn’t look disappointed. He agreed with tonight, after all, and he thinks he’d just be craving more and more if you started anything right now, so he lets you go for a shower while he unpacks his things.

He looks out the water as the sun starts to set and spots the two other houses not far away. It seems as though those have been renovated, with extra rooms for your siblings’ kids now, and Jungkook wonders when you’ll have your own place extended for another room.

He lets the thought settle in, as he continues to get used to the idea of having a family with you. It would be nice, he imagines, driving off during long weekends to come here and enjoy the scenery and just spend time together. Your children would grow up knowing their great-grandparents, running around the same garden and beaches that he did, perhaps playing with your old toys, too. He knows those have been preserved at your request, waiting for the perfect time to give them away.

You call out to him and he turns around to find you in a simple linen dress, the neckline low enough for your tattoo to make an appearance. You look stunning, as always, and he has to stop himself from pulling you for another kiss.

He gets ready and goes out in a white button-up long-sleeve polo, loose enough for the cool summer evening. He catches you staring at him again, and he smirks at you to let you know that once dinner is over, your long night will begin.

The restaurant is just 10 minutes away by car. It’s fancy yet still cozy, serving some of his favorite elevated local dishes. The jazz performance is great, and with a small crowd, the singer encourages the guests to take the dance floor and that’s what Jungkook does, taking your hand and asking you to dance with him.

You’re shy at first but give in. Flushed against his chest, you both sway more than anything, and inhaling his ocean scent while he caresses your back, you feel that warmth that only his love can give, the kind of warmth you’ll constantly seek.

You finish your glass of wine before you head back to the car, with Jungkook laughing over something on his phone right before you leave, saying that the guys’ group chat is blowing up.

“What are they up to now?” You ask.

“Tae did this stranger role play with his girlfriend,” he shares. “You know, when they pretend like they don’t know each other and pick each other up?”

“O… kay. And then?”

“He got made up to look like some old Hollywood actor with the red jacket and slick hair and all. And people flocked to him to flirt before he could even get to his girlfriend. I can imagine she wanted to stop it all right then,” Jungkook narrates.

“Why don’t they just stay at their place and flirt there?” You say. “They can even dress up if they want to. Why go through the struggle?”

“Because it’s fun!” Jungkook exclaims. “There’s a kind of thrill from doing that, especially in a public place. The usual role play can get a bit over-the-top sometimes.”

“And you know that because… you’ve done it?” You ask, ready for his answer because you’re used to him just casually mentioning his previous sex adventures by now.

“Just the usual,” he shrugs. “Boss-secretary, doctor-patient… She was into it and I went along because sure, why not?”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Is that a trick question?” He asks, as he parks the car.

“No…” you answer. “I’m just wondering if role playing is something you like. If it is, then we can, I don’t know. Maybe try?”

He furrows his brows at you as you both enter your house, curious as to why you’re suggesting it when he knows it’s something that would make you uncomfortable.

“Or like… uh, what else could we do?” You wonder out loud.

“Baby, we don’t have to do anything else,” he says, pulling you by the waist now. “If this is about you wanting to be ‘adventurous’ to appease me, then I’m gonna stop you right there.”

“I was just curious,” you pout. “I mean, it’s no secret that you’ve done a lot of these… ‘adventurous’ things with your partners - sex in a tent, in an alley, behind a waterfall… a sex show, and role playing as well? I guess I’m just wondering if you want us to do something exciting, too. If you’re still into that.”

“Baby, why would I want something else ‘exciting’ when I’ve got you?” He says, his onyx eyes boring into you to let you know that he means every word. “I married the prettiest girl in the world. Why would sex with you not be exciting? You know how fast I get hard with you. That’s… that’s exciting.”

You feel your cheeks warm again because he’s right. He does get hard pretty fast.

“Plus, we’ve skinny dipped, had sex in a caravan, in the car, on a deck…” he continues. “But to be honest, you could just be lying down and I’d be all set.”

“That’s literally all I do,” you laugh embarrassingly.

He’s always known that you like things simple. Sure, you give in to Jungkook’s requests, but most of the time, you settle for the same positions that you know give so much pleasure. You’re content; you just wonder if he is, too.

“Not all the time,” he corrects. “And those are just as exciting as when you’re coming undone under me and moaning my name, your perfect tits bouncing and your tattoo reminding me how much you love me.” He kisses your neck and you sigh in satisfaction at the movement. “I could get hard just thinking about that.”

You merely hum in response, not able to move on from it. You want to surprise him, maybe go out of your comfort zone to excite him differently, and so your wandering mind continues, something he picks up.

“Okay. Why don’t you… take control this time,” he suggests. “It’s nothing crazy. It’s just you directing me what you want me to do, how you want me to do it… anything.”

“That’s fine, hun, except there are times when I try to do that but you get so impatient and touch me right away,” you counter, chuckling now as you recall the times you direct him what position you want but his mind goes blank once things intensify and so he’s got his mouth and fingers inside and on you in seconds.

“Fine, then we’ll do it without me being able to use my hands, then,” he says. “I’ll only use them when you ask, and stop when you ask. Are you okay with that?”

Your mind thinks of all the scenarios you’ve been playing in your mind all day, and you lick your lips in anticipation.

“Looks like you are,” he says proudly, excitedly. “I guess then, we can start?”

You nod your yes. “You’ll be good for me?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groans, his eyes widening in anticipation. “I’ll be so good for you, baby.”

“Kook, that wasn’t meant to be dirty talk or whatever,” you giggle. “I just meant that you’ll be good in following the instructions you set out.”

“Don’t care baby. Don’t take it back. But say it again, please?”

The way his eyes plead does something to you, and so you let your inhibitions go and follow what your pussy says. And right now, it wants to command Jungkook.

You bite your lip before kissing him softly on the neck, trailing up until you reach his ear.

“You’ll be good for me?” You whisper sultrily this time.

He releases an incredibly deep grunt before he answers. “Yes, baby. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Okay,” you pant, feeling your heart race now. “Kiss me. Just kiss me.”

Your mouths crash against each other, desperate and wanting in their movements. Your tongues fight for dominance but he lets you take this, liking how you aggressively take him in and pull his hair, causing him to moan, even more as his hands remain at his sides, aching to touch you but he promised he’ll be good; he promised to let you take control even if all he wants right now is to rip off your clothes and make out with your body.

You moan as well, slowing down now as you try to catch your breath. You face him, your eyes glassy and your lips swollen, and he seems to like what he sees. You take his balled-up fists and unclench them, placing them over his top.

“Undress please,” you say softly. “And do it slowly.”

Jungkook follows, his fingers working on the buttons carefully, skillfully, making sure you get to see and remember what those digits could do to you. He can’t wait for you to direct him to work those on you later on.

He gets everything undone and so he removes it - slowly, as you asked.

You gaze at his toned body, crafted by immaculate beings themselves as they created him so perfectly - the tautness of his chest, the line down his torso that branches out to his abs, the narrowness of his waist, all complementing the gorgeous face that you also can’t get enough of.

His jeans hang right underneath the white band of his underwear, and though you love this look on him, you like something better.

“Pants off,” you say this time.

And he follows, undoing the button and unzipping his jeans, pushing them off him until they pool on his ankle. His feet do the work of ridding himself of the heavy material, and all the while, his eyes are set on you - dark with lust and challenging you to do more, to ask him of more.

“Sit on the couch for me, baby,” the pet name coming out during tense moments like this.

He walks there as you say, and you watch his half-naked form move away from you, and it’s making you go feral.

“Where do you want my hands?” He asks when you’re finally standing in front of him.

“Just on the side,” you answer, your mind going hazy as you admire him seated on the couch now, his legs spread enough for you to see the stiff member in between.

His eyes remain on you but you’re staring at his gorgeous lap and those blue boxer briefs he’s wearing, shaping him in all the right ways. You take this time to ready yourself, removing your dress for him to observe. With your lace underwear, you know you’ve got him craving for you. His jaw tightens and you know just how to ruin him.

You kneel down in front of him and he seems to know what you’re up to, as he clenches his fists to control himself. He looks like he really wants to break his own rules now. But you push on, meeting his eyes before licking a strip over his clothed cock. It’s hardened even more now, and you can’t wait for what you’re about to ask him to do. You softly bite the flesh, feeling him strain his thighs as you tease him relentlessly.

Once you think you’ve teased him enough, you look up at him. “I want to see,” you whisper. “Take it out for me, show me what I do to you.”

He grunts before he follows, taking his cock out of his boxer brief, begging in his mind that you’d let him at least squeeze it because with you in your underwear on, commanding him like this while still maintaining your softness and hints of shyness, he’s losing his mind; he’s in real pain right now.

“Do you think about me when you’re away?” You ask.

“Yes, baby. I think about you all the time.”

“What do you think about?”

“Kissing you,” he grunts. “Tasting you, sucking every sensitive part of you, making love to you. Fuck, baby, I could go on.”

“Can you show me what you do when you think about those things?” You say, taking deep breaths now as you prepare yourself for what you’re about to see.

Jungkook sighs in relief and gets to it, squeezing his throbbing member and stroking it as you requested. He wouldn’t have known that this is what you wanted him to do. He’s obviously touched himself during the times before sex, and he also really does it when he’s away from you, but doing it this way - on the couch while you now stand before him, your eyes watching his every move - it’s exhilarating.

He continues his movement, getting into it completely as he takes in the way you look, especially with your parted mouth and heaving chest as you watch him pleasure himself to the sight of you. It seems like you’re in a daze, as your eyes don’t move away from him.

It’s the way his perfect slender fingers wrap around his thick, hard cock. It’s the way they glide, how his thumb occasionally presses the tip, how he starts to heave, feeling the pleasure build up, and how his head leans back and his back arches, revealing the column of his smooth neck, a perfect canvas for you to mark later on. You don’t stop the moan that you release, wanting to get into it, too, as the sight of your husband touching himself to the thought of you is so captivating. Seeing that this is what he does when he’s missing you makes you giddy, and you get to marvel at all of that right now.

You sit on the coffee table, your eyes still not leaving him. You feel the dampness in your underwear, so you press your fingers onto it for that much-needed friction, and you’re left wanting more. You remove it, feeling the string of essence stick to you and disappear as you throw your lace clothing on his side.

You touch yourself, too, your fingers drowning in how wet you are. They aid in your own pleasure, as you rub patterns on your clit that has Jungkook’s eyes widening in shock as you get into your own action, quickening by the second. Your eyes drift away briefly from him as your thighs start to shake, only being brought back when you hear him ask you to “open up.”

You spread your legs wider to give him a view, knowing that will help him. You want him to reach that peak, and you want to see him do so, since you miss out most of the time because you’re too caught up in the haze of how he pleasures you. You continue with your movements, speeding up once you feel you’re close to the edge, and Jungkook matches your pace, only for you to crash first.

“Oh my god,” you heave, feeling the mess you’ve made of yourself, and seeing it, too, as it pools on the coffee table.

“Fuck, baby,” Jungkook groans, his hand still working on his cock. “That’s so hot, I’m— fuck, I’m close. I want to come, baby. Fuck.”

He looks at you like he’s pleading, but you want to be selfish. You want to hold onto this scene of Jungkook pleasuring himself like this.

“Just a little bit more,” you end up saying out loud.

He concedes, knowing he’s given you all control. He slows down a bit, just so he won’t make a mess before you’ve asked him to.

You see his thighs shaking, his jaw clenching so tightly, and the veins from his hands and arms popping out form how much he’s controlling himself.

“Fuck, baby. I can’t take it anymore,” he pants.

You don’t want him to suffer. You’ve ingrained this scene in your mind already, so you tell him he can come, and the grunt that he releases will live in your mind, too. He paints his torso with his slick, but you get to him before it all ends, as you kneel back down and take his dick in your hand to swallow all that’s left.

“Shit, baby,” he groans again, taking you in with your eyes closed, lapping him up as you lick him off. “You drive me crazy. That was so hot.”

You sweetly smile at him before spotting his cum on his abs, perfectly placed on the dips and ridges, tempting you to clean him up.

And that’s what you do, as you lean forward and lick what’s remaining of his seed, your tongue gliding upwards and to the sides of his stunning plane. You lick and suck each patch of skin in your way, and you feel him still shaking a little bit, perhaps still coming down from his high. You get to his nipples, dark and beautiful as you nibble on them while trailing up to meet him in a searing kiss, letting him taste himself on you.

“I’m sorry for making you hold back,” you whisper against his lips, meaning it because you could tell he’d really wanted to come.

“No need to, babe,” he responds, heaving. “That was so sexy; I was losing my mind.”

You giddily smile, and Jungkook doesn’t know how you can maintain that sweetness while saying words and doing things that make him breathless.

“Can you go again?” You ask, eyeing his flaccid cock and licking your lips.

“As much as you want me to,” he replies, his body tensing in anticipation once more when you trace his dick with your fingers, tugging on the hem of his boxer brief until you’re pulling it off him completely.

You place it on his side and return to kneeling in front of him, capturing his gaze and savoring the look of him naked and willing. “I really like that brand of underwear.”

“I’ve been wearing that since I was a teenager.”

“I know,” you hum, earning him a cocked eyebrow from you. “You used to wear those low rise jeans that showed your brief’s waistband, and then you’d pull up your shirt or do cartwheels or anything to show off. It wasn’t hard to miss.”

You giggle at the memory, recalling how anytime Jungkook revealed slivers of skin when you were both in your teens, you’d get flustered and look away. Your siblings and Junghyun didn’t miss how nervous you’d been then, saying that your little crush grew up with the both of you.

“Ah, yeah. It made the girls go wild,” he smugly says.

“That includes me now. It’s probably the tiny waist,” you say, kissing him there, your hair dangling over his skin that causes him to curse.

“Or the strong thighs.” You spread his legs open so you can kiss him in places, too, finding his sensitive parts and licking him there. He stiffens at your movements, his clenched fists clenching even more, and when you look at his dazed eyes, you know you’ve got him wanting again.

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” he heaves, losing breath once more.

“Or, to those lucky enough to see it, your pretty cock,” you smile sweetly again, as if your words aren’t sending him in a spiral.

Perhaps all the times that you’d ogled at him quietly isn’t so bad, Jungkook thinks, knowing that this is how you are once you finally voice them out. You’re so enchanting like this, as the lust in your eyes is tinged with that love and adoration you have for him. It’s such a turn on, but it’s also turning him into mush.

He watches you as you suck his balls and then lick a strip up his member that’s now stiffened from your words. You take him in - slow and deep - before swirling your tongue around and he seriously could cry. You’re teasing him but giving so much at the same time; his mind and body don’t know what to do.

“But it’s all yours now, baby,” he drawls, tempted to break his rule and tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “This body’s all yours and you can do whatever you want with it.”

You pop his cock out of your mouth and smile at him. “I will. That’s why I will admire it all I want.”

You stand up and look down at him, liking the anticipation in his eyes. You remove your bra and proceed to sit on his thigh, your slick sticking to his skin immediately.

“You can touch me a little with one hand,” you mumble, humming once you let him cup your cheek first.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he moans, tracing your lower lip with his thumb before sliding it inside your mouth.

You suck on it while meeting his eyes, and he pulls it away before a moan escapes you, his wet finger now tracing circles on your pert nipple. His smooth hand with patches of callouses from his workouts caresses your bare body, fondling your breasts and pulling your face close for a kiss. It’s right after when you take his hand and place it on his side, signaling that his time for exploration is over.

You’re in control again, as you slowly grind against his taut thigh, perfect for the friction you badly need.

“You’re so beautiful, Kook,” you smile, combing your fingers through his curly locks. “I like your long hair,” you say. “You kinda look like a rockstar.”

He chuckles at your remark, a little thankful for the change in your tone. “So I’ve been told. That’s why grandfather asked me to cut it. I said I need something to pull when I’m stressed since work is driving me up a wall and they’re all pushing me too hard.”

“Hmm, still talking back to your elders, I see,” you laugh. “Nothing’s changed, Kook.”

“I’m a lot braver now because I’m with you,” he winks. “You’re kind of my shield, you know? You protect me from them so I can be honest. They gave me shit for my tattoos but they stopped once you got yours.”

You hum in satisfaction at the thought, knowing that you could do this for him.

“Guess I’ll have to comment during lunch with them that I love your long hair and your grandfather won’t ask you to get rid of it,” you giggle. “He quite adores me and trusts my taste.”

“Nothing’s changed, indeed,” he laughs, knowing that even from his side, they adore you wholeheartedly.

“I love hearing you laugh, hun,” you say, causing him to smile at your words. “You look so free and happy and so full of love.”

“And that’s because of you,” he responds, his voice low and serious and it does something to you again. “You’re all I need, baby. You’re all I want in this life.”

You nod to let him know you feel the same, but it gets you going, with you wanting to keep on admiring him. And you do, kissing him tenderly with your arms around his neck as your fingers comb his hair. You continue to slide against him and his moans in between tell you how into it he is.

Your lips slide down to his jaw and then to his neck, alternating between its smooth expanse to the stunning canvass of his chest. It’s soft kisses turned to playful nibbles turned to desperate sucking, as you take all of him in and express your adoration with marks and bruises that will stay with him. You’re rarely able to do this because he’s always the one on you so you take your time, liking the rise and fall of his chest and the moans and curses he lets out and the way he tries to hold back any other movement from the one you’re directing him to do, which is nothing.

So you give him something, reaching out for his hand and guiding it to his cock that’s hard right now. “Touch yourself please,” you ask, your hand still on top of his as he strokes his member like you instructed.

“Keep going, okay? I just want to see you this way,” you whisper in his ear. “You’ll get to touch me soon.”

“Yes, baby,” he moans, cursing as you increase your pace of thrusting against his thigh.

You suck his neck, feeling his head bopping to his own movements and hearing the vibrations from his throat. You finally sit back up to watch him touch himself, the same movements from earlier driving you just as crazy. His parted mouth makes you want it on you, so you ask him to kiss your body, and he happily complies.

“Fuck, yes,” he grunts once his mouth is on your breast, aggressively licking and sucking just like you did on his neck. “You’re so hot, baby. I could suck your tits forever.”

“Hmm, I’d love that.”

Jungkook gets lost in the softness of your breasts. It’s perfectly shaped and feels so good in his mouth. He knows how to get you going, so he does all the licking and sucking and tricks he knows. It’s hard when he could bust any moment as he pleasures himself; it’s tough not being able to touch you, too, but he’d take this scenario any day. Hearing you instruct him what to do drives him wild, even more with your giddy and soft eyes looking back at him before it turns lustful.

Your moans are louder now; your thrusts are getting erratic, too. Jungkook wants to savor this but he also wants to reach his high with you. But you take his free hand first and direct it to your cunt, and his curses again at being able to feel exactly how wet you are.

His fingers find your throbbing clit right away. Bent a little back, you give him space to play with you, getting lost in it once again because even with limited movement, he knows just what to do.

Jungkook works his way on your cunt while he continues to stroke himself. It’s insanely pleasurable. It’s also getting hard and painful, and so it’s music to his ears when you say that you want him inside you.

He lets go of his cock for you to slide down on, and the relief of your velvet walls makes him shiver. It’s like being out in the cold and then being wrapped up in something warm; your pussy is all the comfort he needs.

But you’re still in control, he reminds himself, as you thrust on your own pace before you’re bouncing on top of him. Seeing your breasts bounce with you is disarming; you’re so sexy like this and he has to remind himself that you’re his wife and he’s truly able to be blessed by this sight everyday.

You collapse on his chest, flushed against him as you catch your breath. But you keep going, grinding against him slowly. He takes the opportunity to nibble your ear and you don’t complain, so he keeps going, sucking your neck until you’re moaning and bouncing on him again. You sit back up and turn to him, and he captures your breast in his mouth. That’s when you lose it, feeling an out-of-body experience where all your nerves are heightened and stimulated so you give in.

“Take control, baby,” you moan. “I want to come all over your cock and I want you to come inside me.”

You say it to challenge him, to get him going, and that’s what happens, as he growls and immediately lays you on the couch because even as he loves this view of you, there’s still nothing like seeing the pleasure on your face when he’s on top of you, pushing to the depths of your hole and hitting you where you want it.

Your hair creates a halo and you look absolutely stunning, ready and desperate for him, as you whisper that you love him, that you want to feel him inside of you.

Jungkook thrusts hard. He’s got your legs spread so he can hold your thighs up and you can touch yourself while he’s reaching that spot that only he can. You both watch as he slides in and out, and it’s messy and obscene and erratic and every bit as good as it can get. You’re screaming by this time, and when he feels your legs shake, he goes even harder.

He kisses you, wanting to swallow in your moans when you finally let go, and you do, after a deep thrust that sends you over the edge. But he continues, chasing his high as well. He gets there when you whisper in his ear, feeling as if his body’s on fire with your words.

“Come for me, baby. You’re so good to me,” you moan. “No one can make me feel good like this. You’re all I need, baby. You’re all I want.”

He loses it every time you praise him like that and you know this, and that’s why you always say it at the end, when you want to bask in his essence just as he basks in yours.

You feel his warmth coating your walls, and just as you’re about to shiver from the sound of his end-of-sex moans in your ear, he turns to face you - damp hair and heaving chest - and his look softens, his small smile appearing before kissing you tenderly.

“I love you, so so much, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “Every version, every day.”

You giddily smile at him again and wrap your arms around his neck to pepper his face with kisses. You pull him on top of you until he shifts to lay on your side, afraid to suffocate you after what was an intense period of lovemaking, which really started from when you’d asked him to take his clothes off.

“How was that?” You ask, turning to face him.

“Baby, did you see me?” He chuckles. “I was a mess.”

“Yeah, me too,” you laugh, nodding towards the droplets of cum you left on the coffee table. “I… I kinda let myself go earlier.”

“And it was so fucking sexy,” he praises. “But did you like it? Did you like being in control and teasing me like that?”

“I did,” you giggle. “You were pretty pliant, too. Not gonna lie, I was surprised. I thought you were gonna be whiny about it.”

“I was losing my shit,” he admits. “But I kinda made the rules and it was so hot hearing you tell me what to do. Or, well, ask. You’re still pretty polite about it.”

You laugh along with him but he assures you that he doesn’t mind it, and that he’s glad you don’t try to change just because you’re with him. The last thing he wants is for you to feel like you have to be adventurous or daring just to make him happy.

“I know I talk about my reckless and thrill-seeking past like it’s a badge of honor but it doesn’t mean that I’m not satisfied with our safer, more comfortable way of living,” he tells you. “I don’t yearn for anything more than what we do, okay? You literally turn me on with whatever you’re doing or wearing so don’t think I’d want you to be or do anything else, babe. I get to kiss you and make love to you all I want and that’s it… I’m a happy man.”

You scrunch your nose and giddily smile at his words, hiding your flushed face on his chest.

“And when you lose your shit like that because of me… it’s pretty special, too,” he adds, hugging you now.

You turn to face him and soften at how he fondly looks at you.

“You… ignite something in me, Kook,” you say. “Coming here after so long reminded me a bit of how it was back when I left. I was emotional because it hurt, and it was because I cared about you; I always did. Junghyun told me how distraught you were and I let myself believe that you cared about me, too. That’s what made me go back to you and try to make it work. And being back here… I just can’t believe how far we’ve come.”

You caress his face and he kisses your hand, the sparkles in his eyes making your heart race once more.

“You make me love so certainly and so passionately,” you add. “It’s thrilling, loving you like this. And we can argue or have issues or feel off with each other sometimes but if at the end of it, we can forgive ourselves and each other then it’s okay. We love hard and I know that’s how I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

It’s his turn to scrunch his nose now and smile, choosing to kiss you deeply as he pulls you in a hug instead of saying anything more. You’ve said it all, he thinks; he knows you know he feels the same.

But still, you ask. “Have I left you speechless now, Mr. Jeon?”

He laughs at your teasing. “I don’t know why you say you’re not good with words. I… I needed to hear them, babe. Being here and knowing where you spent your days while I was wallowing in guilt and misery at home hits me but doing all this now with you reminds me that we got through that. And we got through the past weeks, too.”

“Thank you for taking a short break to be with me here,” you say, kissing him.

“Baby, I wouldn’t pass up on any break from work,” he laughs. “But hyung assured me that I could. He knows I need to be with you after all that.”

You sigh in relief as you hug him, feeling the knots and bolts of his body melt away like yours are. Being together is like that for both of you, you think. Your love - in whatever form it’s expressed - is healing; it’s rejuvenating. It’s the kind you give so much of yourself to but feel like you’re becoming whole, complete, yet there’s still space for more.

You’re glad your parents made that deal with the universe to save you all those years ago. It made you live long enough to experience this.

A small smile forms on Jungkook’s face as he watches your soft, steady breathing. You seem to be in a deep sleep - a good one - he thinks, as the light from the sun coming from the glass doors doesn’t seem to be bothering you the way it usually does. He can’t blame you though. Last night was incredible. And pretty tiring, too, especially at the end when you let him take control, and he’d made love to you hard on the couch and then during your shower right after.

You were breathless by the time you were in bed, and you had to constantly assure him that he didn’t go too hard for the sex to be considered a ‘strenuous activity.’ You’re still required to take things easy, as your cardiologist had told you, and the last thing Jungkook wants is for you to overwork your heart just because he’d been too keen to fuck you. But seeing you enjoy yourself did things to him. So did seeing you be giddy, and then hearing you express your feelings.

It’s been a tough few weeks. He knew that during the times he was cold and distant towards you that he still felt so much love; it was just hard to express it because he was upset. He just had to process his negative emotions properly and ride them out. Once he’d cleared his head, there you were again, the only clarity he needed, and he was back to being the lovestruck man who’s head over heels in love with his wife. The best part was that you were the same, and being back in Busan and in this specific house is making him a little sentimental. And pretty horny, too.

Jungkook moves away from the bed and removes his shirt that’s absorbed all his sweat. He woke up early and went for a run down a nearby trail, savoring the cool morning breeze by the water and the natural sounds of the forest. It was gorgeous, and he thinks of going on a picnic with you tomorrow to see the sights.

He just got back to the house, expecting you to be awake, but the sight of you sleeping peacefully is still something nice to return to. Wanting to take advantage of the tranquility of this place, he decides to do some painting.

You showed him your corner yesterday. It’s complete with an easel and a stool that faces the view. There’s a bench with paint and brushes that you’ve left and you brought. You told him he could use them if he wanted.

The lake sparks creativity, you said, and he feels that now. The sun casts a glow over it that he wants to capture in brush strokes, and he wants to create something to remind him of this particular day and this specific moment, where he stands by the kitchen counter in a space you’ve both come to claim as your slice of heaven. Moans were bouncing off the walls last night but right now, it’s quiet. And whether you’re naked and bouncing on top of him, or naked under the covers as you take your needed rest, he knows you’re all he needs and wants, and he’ll never get tired of telling or showing you all that.

Choosing the colors he’ll be using, Jungkook starts to work. He stays true to the view before him, blending the blues and yellows and greens that he sees and laying them all out on the canvas. He wants to surprise you, show you he’s learned some tricks that he’s seen you do; he can already imagine your proud face and that gets him excited.

It’s almost an hour later when he hears shuffling inside the house followed by your call of his name.

“I’m outside, babe,” he yells. “I prepared the coffee in the pot, just press the button.”

You shout out your thanks and he gets back to work, immersed in the almost-finished product when your voice takes him out of his zone.

“That’s gorgeous, Kook,” you hum. “Way better than the one you did the last time.”

“Hey,” he laughs, tickling you.

He turns to you and his face softens. You’re standing next to him with mussed hair dressed in his white button-up polo from last night. He’d left it on the stool by your bed and you probably decided to wear it when you got up because you know he loves seeing you wear his clothes.

“Am I making your heart flutter, Mr. Jeon?” You tease, seeing his soft, dimpled smile.

He hasn’t said anything for the past 10 seconds and you think maybe it’s your chosen morning outfit.

“You know the answer to that,” he replies, pulling you by the waist and directing you to sit on his lap. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he says of the painting. “But since you’ve seen it, what do you think?”

“It’s very Bob Ross-esque,” you compliment him. “And it’s really good, hun. The day’s pretty nice, huh? I’d paint this scenery, too, if I wasn’t so tired.”

“You’re welcome,” he smirks. “But I went for a run and everything was just so pretty. You were still sleeping when I got back so I thought to try painting while waiting for you to wake up.”

“Well, it’s good I was still asleep then,” you smile. “The piece is great. You’ve got a good teacher, I’d say.”

“She is. She’s pretty hot, too, so it’s hard to focus sometimes.”

“You’re so cheeky,” you playfully roll your eyes before kissing cheek and standing up to get your coffee.

You choose to lean on the railing when you return, soaking up the midday sun and relishing the calmness of the lake. It’s so peaceful out here, making you appreciate your house’s soundproof walls because you definitely were not quiet last night. Other than the loud thrumming of your heart at how much you were lusting over your husband touching himself and coming undone in front of you, you also know that your joint moans were pretty obscene.

You didn’t shy away from letting him know how you were affecting him, especially when he’d pounded into you so purposefully that you felt him so deep within you. Even the bathroom sex was mind-blowing. So was the loving way he’d kissed you until you both fell asleep, and the thought of all the ways that Jungkook makes love to you sends a shiver down your spine.

You shake a little bit and turn around, surprise laced on your face as you see your husband looking at you from his stool, legs spread with a smirk on his face in all his shirtless glory.

“How long have you been ogling me?” You arch an eyebrow.

“As soon as you came out,” he smiles. “You look stunning, babe. The lake’s pretty lucky it gets to be your background.”

You chuckle at his cheesiness and sip your coffee. “Finish your work now and then we can get ready to head out. We can have early lunch at the seafood place our families used to go to.”

With you by the railings looking breathtaking against the view, it’s a nice scene that Jungkook wants to capture. “I wanna try to draw you,” he states, taking one of your sketch pads and placing it on the easel now.

“Oh yeah?” you ask. “I should pose then.”

He turns to you just as you start unbuttoning your top, leaving your tattoo and black satin underwear exposed. You see him visibly swallow and you push it, adjusting his polo to reveal more of your skin.

“This okay, hun?”

“I–, uh… hmm,” he furrows his brows, his eyes flitting from you to the pad.

Jungkook decides he’s not good enough to capture you in drawing, and he’s definitely not patient enough to wait to finish it before he can kiss you because the way you’re teasing him is a little too much. He has to have you right now.

Retrieving the polaroid camera from inside the house, he walks back out and snaps a shot. “I won’t do you justice, babe,” he explains. “And you look too fucking sexy to pass up on.”

He takes another one and then places them on the coffee table next to him. He walks to you and immediately captures you in a deep kiss, his hand gripping your waist the same way yours grips his chest.

“So that worked, huh?” You giggle. “I was wondering when you were gonna just walk over here and claim me.”

“You could’ve just said you wanted me, too,” he laughs. “You know I like hearing that.”

“You also like it when I tease you,” you counter. “And, well… here I am.”

You bite your lip and pull the polo just enough to expose your shoulder, and Jungkook basically growls at the act, putting away your coffee then kissing you once again.

You moan against his mouth once his hand slides inside to fondle your breast, and the sensation from his touch sends you in a daze. You let him suck your neck only for a while, nudging him to turn to you so you could get a look at him.

“Baby,” he whines, wanting to have continued to map out your body in this open space.

“I just…” you trail, your eyes scanning his half-naked form, his cream-colored joggers low enough again to show the band of his boxers.

You trace your fingers down his torso, following the lines and ridges that you know he works hard on. His breathing quickens, even more so when you slowly slide your hand in, immediately stroking his semi-hard cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head leaning back at the pleasure he feels, your soft skin soothing yet electrifying him at the same time.

But you shouldn’t be the only one, he thinks, as his hand sneaks inside your underwear now, his fingers finding your throbbing clit amidst all the wetness.

“Mhmm,” you hum, your mouth parting as you suck in a breath.

Jungkook wants to bask in your look as you pleasure each other, but he also really wants to kiss you, so he pulls you close, angling your head with his other hand and takes you in. It’s all tongue and teeth, as you both seem desperate for the other, and that’s what prompts him to start walking back and taking you with him, needing to taste you this second because he can feel just how wet you are for him.

He guides you towards the desk near your bed, lifting you a little so you could sit on it, causing you to let go of his dick and you whine in response. You’re not able to say anything more, as he slides two fingers inside your hole at the same time that he sucks your nipple.

“Kook, oh my good,” you keen, feeling your slick spread as he pumps into you.

He doesn’t say anything. He just continues with his movements as you heave in pleasure, grinding reflexively as you seek more friction than just his fingers.

“Do you want more, baby?” He asks, looking at you now.

“Yes,” you whisper, your mouth parting once he presses your clit. “Want your mouth. Oh god, baby, I want your mouth.”

He slows down his movements before retrieving his hand from your damp underwear, showing you his fingers drenched in your slick. He licks them off you as he holds your gaze, and you take his hand off his mouth so you could suck them, too.

You moan as you do, suddenly wanting his dick as well. He crouches down before you get to say anything, pulling off your underwear to see you dripping wet, your essence forming a dot on the desk this time. You’d be embarrassed if he didn’t look so turned on by it, and you completely lose it once he licks a strip up your pussy and swirls his tongue around it.

You lose all sense by then, allowing yourself to just let go because with how he’s gripping you and sucking you dry, you know you won’t be able to control how your body will react anyway.

He sets a rhythm, pulling your hips to meet his mouth and you follow the pace, grinding against him as your body burns with so much pleasure. Your ass sits by the edge and your legs are hanging on air, but you know he’s got you. It isn’t like this is the first time, yet every time feels like it is. Jungkook does you so well, you’ve stopped questioning his ability at this point.

Your legs start to shake and his hands glide to hold up your thighs while your arms support you. It’s uncontrollable by now and you don’t mind the moans that escape you. He’d just fucked you senseless last night but that already feels too far away. You know it's still gonna be another good one this time.

“I’m coming, Kook. Agh–” you shriek, feeling it so suddenly, until you’ve reached the edge and feel even wetter, as your orgasm hits and it feels like a waterfall.

Your husband hums from in between your legs, taking all that he can, even as your legs continue to shake. He kisses your inner thigh before kissing up your torso, meeting your dazed look with his satisfied smile.

“Can you go again, baby?” He smirks, taking off his joggers and boxer briefs in one movement to reveal his cock that’s definitely ready for you.

You want to trace the veins with your tongue, lick the pre-cum off it, and swallow it until you can’t breathe, but his hand gets to it first, with him knowing now how touching himself turns you on. He strokes himself a little, and the version of you that touches herself when he does is back, as you instantly fiddle with your clit to address the aching need at the sight of him like this.

Holding the base of his member, he pushes slowly into you, joining your moan at the feel of him within your velvet walls.

“Baby, you feel so good,” he grunts, as he meets your thrusts. “So, so fucking good, my dick could live here.”

“I want it to,” you manage a response. “Kook, baby, you’re so big. Go deeper, please. I can take it.”

Jungkook follows, moving closer and pushing harder as you ask, feeling your edge as he drags his cock against your walls. You’re moaning in his mouth, lips no longer moving as you feel lost in all that he’s doing to you.

“You like that so much, don��t you?” He moans. “Like how deep I go? How much I stretch you out?”

“Yes, baby,” you huff, unable to form words now. But you try, knowing he likes hearing you like this.

You’re flicking your nipple while he’s massaging your clit, and with all the movements, you feel it again. You try to hold out, wanting to savor this feeling a little longer, but Jungkook’s erratic movements tell you that he’s just about to reach his peak, too, so you let yourself go again, waiting for the crash and hoping he’d get to do it with you.

His body shakes now, you feel it, as yours does the same. And it’s not long after when you feel the shiver all over you, and then he comes, too with a release of a deep breath that gives you goosebumps.

He pulls out, and seeing his cum slide out of you, he pushes back in, making you yelp in surprise.

“We made a mess,” he chuckles, his voice low and hoarse from all the moaning he’s done.

“Hmm, we did,” you huff, seeing him swirl his dick with your joint essence on your pussy.

He’s done this before. But seeing it from this angle, with the sun shining from your glass wall - it’s incredibly sexy. You laugh to yourself. It’s not even lunchtime.

“Honey, I’m tired,” you laugh now.

Jungkook kisses you tenderly and you smile against his lips. “Okay then. We shower and then we take a nap. Food can wait.”

You stare at the plates of food that you and Jungkook had devoured. A lunch for 4, you think, and you blame the late morning nap you took that’s caused you to have your first meal at 1PM. You don’t mind though, as the dishes were much more delicious with how hungry you were, and Jungkook seems the same, as he satisfyingly smiles at you.

“Ah, that was good,” he hums. “Nothing like our favorite seafood restaurant.”

“I know, right? I remember how our grandparents would always reserve the function room for our families,” you say. “You boys were always so rowdy, running around the place.”

“Food energizes us,” Jungkook shrugs. “And yeah, I remember. Seoyeon would scold us for being noisy.”

“And I was always just there, sitting and laughing at the silly faces you were making when the adults finally told you off.”

“You really had a crush on me, huh?” He smirks, pulling you closer to his side so he could have a better look at you.

“Yes, and you really never noticed,” you counter, laughing at his pout. “Would it have made any difference if you knew that weak little me adored you and your bowl-cut?”

“I really don’t understand how you found that cute,” he laughs. “That’s my most embarrassing look ever.”

“What? It was adorable!” You giggle, pinching his chin. “You were always so mischievous but the haircut made you look tiny and pure for some reason. Plus, you had this smile. It was always very sweet.”

He sighs at the thought, imagining a prepubescent Jungkook causing trouble with you still thinking he was pretty special. “I don’t remember as much about you. I hate it.”

“Kook, we have so many photos and home videos,” you comfort him. “We can always go through them and try to remember. I think that’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

It would, he smiles to himself. Days and nights of being curled up on the couch, watching your younger selves and thinking of how neither of you would’ve imagined getting married and being this in love. Your future kids would ask how you two met and you could both show them those videos. He’d proudly say how you were crushing on him early on and you’d tease that he never really minded you. It’s all fun, though, and he can picture your future kids enjoying it, too, perhaps thinking it could be them on screen. He’s suddenly excited to find out who they’d take after.

“Honey? You okay?”

“Yeah, I just zoned out a bit but of course, that would be fun. We can make fun of each other while watching.”

You smile at the thought, knowing that reminiscing those days would be a shock to him. You wonder how much of your adoration for him was caught on camera, but even you are curious. Your siblings and Junghyun would tell you stories as you got older, and there were things that you’d either forgotten or didn’t know.

Sometimes you think you downplayed just how big of a crush you had on Jungkook when you were younger because it was unrequited - a silly thought now, given how he is with you. He used to not look your way but now, it seems as if he can’t take his eyes off you the way you can’t take your eyes off of him.

You both exit the restaurant and drive to your middle school. You introduce yourselves and are immediately allowed in. Classes have just ended so it’s a little busy with the students leaving, but the shrieks remind you of how things were during your time, and how different you and Jungkook remember your pre-teen days to be.

The difference is much more glaring once you’re in your high school not far away, especially as you look around the library that’s changed a lot over the years. But you remember your spot at the corner, where you and Yeri would study while Nari drew dresses and Minhyuk read comics.

“You know, I’ve probably only ever been here thrice,” Jungkook laughs, the place an unfamiliar spot for him. It’s also so quiet; it’s unnerving and probably why he never really came here.

“I’m not surprised,” you laugh. “But then again, I’ve only ever stepped foot on the field twice.”

“What? Did you not have PE class?”

“I did,” you say. “My parents had me spared from the physical stuff, so I just read up on sports and other things for my grade.”

“That’s so sad, babe,” he laments. “PE was like, the best. It was the only subject I liked.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you exclaim. “But yeah, I got used to it. It’s different learning a sport by reading it but it was okay, I guess. My teacher would let me watch classes and varsity games sometimes.”

“Let me guess, you were watching me?” He smirks.

“Not always,” you playfully roll your eyes. “You weren’t the only good-looking guy in school, you know?”

“What! Who else was?”

“Secret,” you tease, sticking your tongue out and walking down the hallway.

You pass by the auditorium, another place you spent a lot of time in. Minhyuk used to play the violin and you’d watch his rehearsals with their music group here.

“Okay, tell me you’ve been here at least once to watch a club performance or something,” you say, turning to him.

“Uh, no?” He laughs. “All I remember from this is that we had an important game against a rival school on the field and all your friends were there except for you. Hyung watched it and I overheard him ask them where you were and Yeri said you were at the auditorium because there was some flute recital or something.” He rolls his eyes. “Why would that be more interesting than my soccer game?”

You laugh at his bitter expression. “You wouldn’t have cared, hun. And I’m pretty sure she said saxophone. That was Jaehyun’s instrument.”

“Who’s that? Why doesn’t he sound familiar?”

“Because he was a year older,” you respond as you walk past the seats. “He, uh, he invited me, said I was probably gonna watch the game but it didn’t hurt to try, and he was surprised that I said I’d watch him.”

“Were you… a thing?” He furrows his brows.

“Why would that matter,” you ask. “You were the one dating the class President and the gymnast and a lot of other girls.”

“Yeah but I never took them seriously,” he defends. “We just… you know.”

“Oh, I know,” you chuckle. “Talks of how good of a kisser you were and uh, other stuff spread like wildfire, Kook. It wasn’t exactly a secret.”

You're right, it really wasn’t. He was the rich popular jock that girls flocked to and he loved the attention, and that continued until university. But like he always said, it was all fun for him.

You… you were never the type to date for fun, so he knows that any guy you were with could’ve been the one, and yes, even Won-shik. Or Jongin. Maybe this Jaehyun dude.

It could’ve been Mingyu.

“So you and the guy, were you…?” He asks again.

“He courted me,” you say. “But I wasn’t sure about having a boyfriend at that time and he said he’d wait but I told him not to. We drifted once he graduated and that was it.”

“Okay.”

“Does that matter?” You wonder.

“Sometimes I think there could’ve been a version of this life where we weren’t married,” he starts. “Like, you could’ve been with someone else you loved and I probably would’ve been arranged with some other person but you and I would still see each other regularly because of our families and like… that’s just… a hard thought to have. If it wasn’t me with you right now.”

“Yes, Kook, it’s a hard thought but also impossible because I’m with someone I love and you’re with me right now,” you tell him. “And this is the only version of life I’ll have. Also, I think I have a pretty special connection with the universe so sometimes I think they were truly on my side. They kept me alive and well, they made me marry you, the man who never really took anyone seriously and now look at you!”

“Yeah, look at me, head over heels in love with the woman he was bitter about and barely minded,” he laughs dryly. “But I think they were on my side, too.”

You smile at the thought, knowing that Jungkook may not really be able to let go of the guilt from years ago but he could at least look at things this way - at the end of it, you get to be together happily, making new memories in the places you’ve known all your lives, and out to make even more.

You continue your walk around the school. You pass by the faculty to greet your teachers from over 10 years ago, who fawn over both of you. They say how surprised they were that you’d ended up together, but don’t doubt that now seeing how happy you both look.

Walking down the hallway, you gush over the shelf with championship trophies that Jungkoook had won with the soccer team. And then finally, you sit on the bleachers that overlook the soccer field, Jungkook’s stage during your years in school.

“It does look pretty with the sun casting a shadow over it,” you hum, seeing that it’s late in the afternoon. “I can see why you loved being here, Kook. And seeing you play now, you truly belong on the field.”

“Those years were fun,” he reminisces. “I loved the adrenaline rush, the thrill, the cheers… I loved the attention, really. It made me feel free. I think I kept chasing that high outside of it. And it got me into a lot of trouble.”

“Well, all that trouble landed you right here with me,” you comfort him. “I think it’s not all that bad.”

“Not at all,” he agrees. “But I still experience all that, you know? The thrill, the cheers, the attention… I married someone who gives all those to me. My younger years can’t really compare.”

Your cheeks reach your eyes as you giddily smile. “My heart is fluttering, Mr. Jeon,” you giggle. “Too bad we’re in school so I can’t kiss you right now.”

“Actually, I know a spot…”

“Kook!” You squeal, not wanting to know where he’d made out with the girls back then, but he laughs along to tease and says that you both could always drive back home and do all the kissing you want.

Tempting, you think, but all the walking has made you hungry and he promised you’d have milmyeon for dinner and then pass by the kiosk where Mrs. Na always bought you your favorite hotteok.

You do all that, and just like what Jungkook said, you go back home and do all the kissing you want.

The kissing obviously escalated to so much more. Jungkook let you ride his face and you let him fuck your mouth. The lake house is so conducive to lovemaking, you told him as you started to doze off, and he assured you that all this wouldn’t end here. There’s lots to make up for, but also, making up with you makes him feel like a new man and a better lover, and he wants to be able to show you all that.

He doesn’t mess around though, as you wake up the next morning flushed against his firm chest that you can’t help but kiss all over, and to get you going for morning sex by the lake, he wildly eats you out then takes you from behind while you look at the view outside.

You at least eat your breakfast that you had made on the veranda and then have enough energy to walk down the trail by the lake to see the forest and the birds. Jungkook lays down a mat and you both enjoy fruits and desserts before heading out for a late lunch of pork rice soup that you’ve dearly missed.

You drive around your part of the city, passing by spots and beaches you used to frequent, and it’s as if you could hear the shrieks and laughter from your younger days, sounds you joined in on every once in a while. But much of it was Jungkook’s, and you smile at the thought; he was already making your heart flutter then, and you don’t think that’s ever gonna stop.

He stops by a familiar park, and it takes a while before it registers that this is the playground that both of you used to go to a lot. It’s the midway point of your grandparents’ estates so all you Jeon and Kim kids would play here before heading to either of those places.

It’s also where he asked you to play when you were 4 years old. And where you told him no.

“Are we here to reenact that moment I broke your heart?” You tease, walking next to him as you bask in the sight of your childhood. You may not have played in the playground but you did have your dolls with you.

“Sort of,” he chuckles. “With a good ending this time though. I kind of wanna have both memories ingrained in my mind so they could remind me of how far we’ve come.”

“Sounds good,” you smile, sitting on the bench that you think is the one you would always sit on.

It’s been over 20 years and a lot about it has changed, but you suppose it’s a good guess.

“It’s amazing the memories that we retain, isn’t it?” You wonder out loud. “I remember that day, too. We were just 4 years old, and, well, it’s one of the few that I remember.”

“I know, right? I don’t remember much from that age apart from that moment, actually,” he says. “It stuck with me, maybe because it really affected me. Who knows? Maybe I was crushing on you before that so I chose to forget everything else after you rejected me,” he laughs. “Selective memory and shit.”

“Could be,” you laugh along. “But can you imagine how it must’ve been like for our families seeing us grow up and grow apart? It must’ve sucked.”

“I’m sure it did,” he hums, knowing how much your families wanted this union. “Perhaps the universe was on their side, too.”

You smile at the thought. Coming back to the places with traces of Jungkook as the kid you admired from a short distance makes you sentimental because he’s right, there could’ve been another version of life where you didn’t end up together. Who knows if your fondness for him would’ve faded if you’d married someone else? But you’d still see each other regardless, and the feeling could be haunting you.

You wonder if you weren’t sick, or was just careless enough to have played with him even if you weren’t allowed to - how different would your friendship have been like growing up? Would you be closer? Would he have been as reckless or less of the playboy he was? Would you have been more daring just to keep up with him? Would you have both tried to date? What if it didn’t work out, being as you were both still young then?

But as you look up at Jungkook who’s now standing before you, his hand in his pocket before he reaches it out the way he did over 20 years ago, you think that maybe all those had to happen so you could have this.

Maybe the distance meant that you’d both grow and make mistakes individually. Maybe having different sets of friends and hobbies meant you’d both appreciate yourselves for who you are so you could appreciate the other just as much. Maybe his colorful relationship record and your neutral one meant being able to balance excitement and security. Maybe all the heartbreaks along the way meant you’d learn how to ride through them so you could love each other even more.

Because as you take his hand and stand up to meet him for a kiss, you don’t think you could ever love him more than you do right now. You feel it all over your body that you think it’s all it knows to do at this point.

“Four-year old Jungkook is probably bursting at the seams right now,” he hums as he kisses you again, his arms around your waist and his forehead against yours.

“And four-year old me is probably doing the same,” you smile. “But this 29-year old version of me is so content right now, Kook. She can’t get any happier.”

She can, are the words that echo in Jungkook’s mind. Being here makes him realize how else you - both of you - can be happier. But he keeps the thought to himself and chooses to agree with you for now.

“That’s great, babe. This version of me feels the same.”

The stack of Polaroid photos from the past 3 days has gotten taller. There’s so much from the beach, your grandparents’ house, your schools, the trail, and of course, the playground. Jungkook holds up the ones from earlier where you’re sitting on the swing and the one where you both attempted to slide together but got stuck.

Your smiles are as wide as they could get, and seeing them now tugs at his heart. You seem like you can’t get any happier, but he also knows there’s something more that you wish for.

And it isn’t just about giving it to you; he wants to make it with you, because seeing you skip around earlier and play in the seesaw with him and laugh your sweet, tender laugh - he knows that there are so many more ways he can show you he loves you, and the sight of you happy and free and content is something he wants to see everyday of his life.

“What you looking at, hun?” You ask, as you wrap your arms around his crouched form on the edge of the bed, your chin sliding in the crook of his neck and peeking at what he’s holding.

“All our photos,” he says. “We ended up taking so many.”

“Hmm, more to put in our photo album then,” you hum, kissing his cheek before kissing his shoulder, and then his back, given that he’s too sexy not to have your lips mapping them out.

You make it to the line down his back, kissing his tailbone before lying in bed. “I’m tired,” you yawn. “Let’s sleep, hun. We have a day of travel tomorrow.”

Jungkook keeps the photos in a pouch and turns off the light before he lays next to you, his arm stretching out so you have space to rest your head on his chest.

You make yourself comfortable right away, close to drifting to sleep with his post-shower natural scent and his smooth skin.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking…” he starts. “We kinda went down memory lane, you know? And sorted things out like we said we would. We got through a fight that had us loving each other even more and I feel like I’ve learned and matured after all that and I… I think I’m ready.”

He turns to you, wanting to see your face, and your curious eyes meet his certain ones.

“I want to have a family with you,” he says. “And I mean, really want it, like, I want us to seriously try now.”

“Kook…” you mumble, a little surprised but beaming with joy just the same.

“I’ll admit at the start, a part of me just wanted to get ahead with it because I knew it would make you happy and that would make me happy,” he admits. “But now, I just… I want that for us because we love each other so fucking much and I don’t know how else we could show or express it. And that’s nice, isn’t it? It’s overflowing and the only other person who should receive that love other than you or me is someone we both created.”

You’re frozen, constantly blinking at him in disbelief until he nudges your nose with his.

“Hey, say something,” he whispers.

“I… ” you quiver. “I’m… Kook, that’s amazing. You… We… we’re ready. We have so much to give and we, I…”

A tear falls down your cheek.

You and Jungkook had agreed to let life just happen. You make love all the time anyway and it used to comfort you that there could at least be a chance you’d get pregnant with the frequency you do it. But conceiving a baby isn’t that easy. You may have sex a lot but it doesn’t mean you always do it at the right time. Both your stress levels have been quite high, too, and that’s been a factor on why it hasn’t happened yet.

There were a few times when you thought your period being late meant you could be pregnant, only to have it happen right before you told Jungkook. You won’t deny it disappointed you a little.

But now, with him saying he wants to actively try, it’s making you excited and nervous but incredibly happy. You’ve wanted this for a while, and you realize now with what you and Jungkook could handle and take on together, you want it even more. And he’s right there with you.

“Oh, baby,” he says, caressing your cheek. “I’m… I’m sorry it took a while for me. Wanting to let life surprise us feels like a cop out now.”

“Don’t be sorry, hun,” you sniff, sighing into his touch. “What matters now is that we both want this. And we’re… we’re really gonna try.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “We can go see your doctors tomorrow or the day after to consult. Whatever they say, we’ll follow. If we have to have even more sex, then that’s great.”

You laugh at his words. “I think we have enough of it.”

“We never know.”

You kiss him. Deeply. You kiss him so hard, it’s the only way to express how happy you are because words fail you. You kiss him so long that you climb on top of him, wanting to feel him wrap himself around you, touch you, cradle you, show you how much he loves you.

“Oh, so we’re starting now?” He teases once you pull away.

You just hover over him, your eyes boring into his sparkling ones, and you giggle as you boop his nose.

“I’m actually not ovulating but it doesn’t matter,” you say, pressing your clothed pussy against his cock. “I just… I just want to feel you right now. Your wanting to have a family is such a turn on, I’m scaring myself.”

He smirks at your honesty but he loves it. Your being turned on by it is also turning him on.

But he lets you do what you want first, as you kiss down his torso then pull down his boxer briefs to lick his hardening cock before you take him all in.

“I thought you were tired, babe,” he huffs, feeling the tension build as you take him so desperately, his thighs straining from the pleasure.

“Not anymore,” you say, gagging with how big he is. You turn to look at him with his cock in your hand now, meeting the smirk he has on his face. “I think I can do this all night.”

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts. “You gotta play fair. I need my time to do you, too.”

Waking up the next morning feels different. With Jungkook flushed against your back and his arm around your middle, you think that hopefully in a few months, he’d be lovingly caressing you there when there’s a tiny human growing inside you.

It’s a nice thought, but one you can wait for a while to happen. Although last night’s sex was pretty intense, you’re not fertile and there wouldn’t be any surprises soon, but it was still really good. Your emotions had overtaken you and you went with what your heart and body were saying, and you’re now left with sore limbs. But you don’t mind. You’re satisfied beyond belief. And while this may be your last day of your time here, you’ll be going back to your normal life with much more excitement this time. And you know your husband feels the same.

He wakes up shortly after, and you both pass up on breakfast to just sleep in and cuddle, knowing there’ll be less of this again, so you savor being naked in each other's arms, giggling and kissing.

You finally make it out of bed and pack up, ready to head to his grandparents’ as you both promised. It goes by smoothly, with them fawning over you as always, and you and Jungkook spend some time right after going around the estate and recalling memories again.

He takes you to his room, which is where he stayed when he was much younger. It’s still a little boy’s bedroom with all the toys organized and the clothes stored neatly. He opens his closet and takes a chest from the floor, unlocking it to reveal sets of baby clothes in mint condition.

There’s a swaddling cloth and a blanket, a crocheted bunny and a baby giraffe. There are onesies and beanies and tiny shoes and mittens.

Jungkook touches them lightly, excitedly thinking about your future baby wearing them.

“I have a chest like this, too,” you say, smiling up at him. “It’s at my grandparents’. Do you think we could pass by for it? I think it would be nice to have our tiny one wear our clothes, don’t you think?”

“It would be,” he smiles.

You both casually tell your grandparents that you wanted to bring the chests back with you to Seoul “just in case” because you’re sentimental, not wanting to make too big of a deal out of deciding to finally and seriously try getting pregnant this time. You don’t miss their glassy eyes and proud faces, though, and you think of the joy they must be feeling. You hope all goes well and that they’d get to spend as much time with their future grandchildren as possible. It was their dream, after all, and you know it means just as much to them.

With your treasure troves in the trunk and your hand in Jungkook’s, you both drive away, hoping that not too long from now, a little one will be joining you in your weekend getaways and short breaks and vacations. You could only hope they’ll love you with all their heart as much as you know you’ll love them with all of yours.

Series Masterlist

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#jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #husband jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook series #please love me

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steviewashere · 8 days ago

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She Lives in My Dream State

Rating: General Pairings: Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Platonic Stancy, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson CWs: Mild Recreational Marijuana Use (More Implied/Referenced) Tags: Post-Canon, Vague Timeline, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Pining, Pre-Relationship, One-Sided Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Good Friend Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Vague Bisexual Awakening, Bisexual Steve Harrington (If you Squint), (He Hasn't Figured Out All His Feelings Yet for Eddie), Eventual Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Bittersweet, Hopeful Ending, Talking About Dreams This isn't my New Years fic, but I whipped this one out really fast tonight (because I'm pining over somebody I can't have, all that good stuff), so. I promise I've got a couple works that are coming out hopefully by the end of the week! I've just been very ill—woohoo!!! Title taken from Tyler, the Creator's "See You Again", the actual lyric is, "You live in my dream state."

🫂—————🫂 Steve and Nancy become close friends. Closer than most. Maybe not closer than he and Robin, but close enough. They're enough together. And Steve just has to take that.

He reasons that they'd be better friends or maybe even best friends had circumstances not have been. If Nancy was never his girlfriend and the Upside Down never happened and he was never bullshit. But. Well, you can only get so much out of people. And this is what he gets. An ex-girlfriend that still laughs at his jokes, but doesn't touch him the way it matters. An ex-girlfriend who's a friend, nothing more.

She moved to Boston, following her dreams like she always said she would. He believes in her, so he knew, of course, that she'd get to where she needed to be. Steve shouldn't miss her, not as much as he does, but he does. That's the problem. He'll get phone calls from her, excited and bright and short, she's got a column in the local newspaper, her dorm-mates are considerate, there's a library within walking distance. He's so fucking happy and proud.

But also...

"I think I'm still in love with her," he confesses one night. It's late, too late to be talking. There's a burning sweep of ash in his throat, a joint nearly roached between his fingers, and some movie playing in front of him. The television is quiet, buzzing and fizzing.

"Yeah?"

Oh. And Eddie's here, too. Replacing one friend for another. Not that Nancy did stuff like this, sitting around with him, smoking and shooting shit. No, she was more the kind of girl who enjoyed binging some rom-com from the discount bin at Family Video, sipping hot gos as Steve put it out into the world. She liked wine nights—it was the only stereotype she allowed herself to have.

He swallows around smoke. The joint begins to hurt, so he leans forward towards Eddie's coffee table, putting it out in an already full ashtray. They should really break this habit. Do something else. Find another thing to entertain them, but the weed loosens the works. Makes it easier to be himself without trying so damn hard. Not like it matters. Eddie figures him out anyway. Perceptive bastard.

His hands hang between his knees. Head heavy on his neck, pulled forward so his shoulders hunch. The screen flashes, and so his eyes dart to figure the picture. He's never been able to paint it clearly, doesn't understand the image, can't caption the words.

"I don't know," Steve murmurs, "it's just...she calls me, y'know, tells me everything going on in her life. And I know she's broken up from Jon, working on herself—whatever that means—but I...I hear her talk about these guys and girls she's bumping into on campus. Don't think she realizes, but she's on her way to falling in love with her lab partner."

"You saying you're jealous of a person you've never met?"

"I'm not the jealous type"—

"Sorry, Steve, it sorta sounds like you are."

Sighing, relenting, Steve rolls his eyes and leans back in his seat. Nods against the back of the couch, gaze adrift to the water stains on the ceiling. "Maybe I am, then. But I'm not gonna do anything about it, swear. She's happy now. Has her whole life ahead of her. Not the kind to settle down and have a brood of children, I get that, but I guess the dream still clouds my brain."

Eddie looks to him, he can feel his burning stare. He keeps his gaze astute on the ceiling. There's something in him that melts with Eddie's molten eyes—he'd let the change happen at a moment's notice. Not now, though. And definitely not yet. "You guys are on two different worlds," Eddie states softly, "she isn't yours to keep. And I'm sure she doesn't want to be kept, not now at least." He bumps his hand on Steve's thigh, the contact burns, but Steve doesn't shy from it. Instead, he lolls his head and looks over.

One day, his brain won't be set on Nancy.

Maybe it'll be somebody else.

"I don't how you're supposed to do it," Eddie continues, "but you have to move on, Steve. Be her friend, but don't let the thought of her eat away at you."

He swallows, a sour lump heavy in his throat. "I know," he mutters. His eyes are heavy, wet when he blinks them. But Eddie doesn't acknowledge that, doesn't make fun of him. It's nice. Steve sighs. "I just think I'm gonna love her forever and there's nothing I can do about it."

"I know, Steve," Eddie whispers, matching the tenderness, "but one day, things will be different. I swear, Stevie, they will."

"Yeah"—he nods once, quickly. Lets out another soft breath—"did you know that Nance and I met on her first day of freshman year?"

"Mm, no I didn't. Tell me about it?"

At least Eddie won't shut him down on this. Not like other people have.

"She had these big, square glasses on," Steve reminisces, "her hair tied up in this ponytail, stray hairs all around her face. We were at this club fair. I was looking into the student council and she was at the booth beside me, the business club's. And all I could think was, there's no way she's interested in that, must be her dad talking."—he snorts—"when I went over to ask her about it, she did one of those big, nasty sighs. All...jaded or whatever. She told me her dad was full of shit. Honestly thought she was gonna be some prissy, pretty mouthed girl who's well-mannered—that kind of garbage—but she wasn't. She was honest.

"I knew, right then and there, that I was gonna find a way to woo her. Maybe it was just...maybe I was being a bit too out there for a fifteen year old, but I honest to god thought she was the one for me. My soulmate. But then...well, y'know the story of us. Not meant to be." Steve sighs, wistful and forlorn. The image of fourteen year old Nancy Wheeler, her too big glasses and her smile full of braces, gone in an instant. He continues, "That dream I had where she was my wife, we had that whole crowd of kids, sometimes I think that was my dad talking. The ideal family mumbo-jumbo. But I think, if her and I were different people—if she wasn't afraid of becoming her mom and I wasn't afraid of becoming my dad—maybe that whole thing could'a worked out. But...Nancy's too brilliant for that. Too brilliant for nuclear bullshit. And I'm sorta...sorta behind, y'know. Late bloomer on what I want."

Eddie blinks at him. His wonderfully dark eyes pulling Steve back to himself. The hand has returned to sit against his thigh, heavy and warm and sure. Grounding. "What do you want, Steve?"

He blows out a sharp breath. "Loaded question," Steve says, "I want to get out of Hawkins, I know that much. Find somewhere to be. To be what, I'm not sure, but something more than just...just world's best babysitter who knows when to have a car at the right moment and also the inventory system for movies I've never fucking seen."

The smile that compliments that statement is only born from Eddie's warm laughter. He wants to nurture that smile, the way his cheeks stretch with it. It's the warmest thing he's felt in a long while.

"What about you, Eds, what do you want?"

"Honestly, I don't fucking know," Eddie answers in turn. "I wanted to be a world famous rockstar. But every time I put my fingers on the frets, I think about Metallica and world ending doom, so...guess that's sorta out of the cards. Oh, maybe I could write shit! I could...I could take the whole world ending bullshit and turn it into some sci-fi novel. Call it...The Underworld or something."

"The Underworld or Something sounds like a mouthful," Steve teases.

"Right...The Underworld. Title in progress. Hell, you know, maybe you could be my editor?"

"I'm not a strong enough reader for that, Eds." Eddie chuckles and nods, conceding. Steve just relishes in the tired sound of his laughter. "Got any other gigs you think I could do?"

"Book binding," Eddie says easily, "it's methodical. Takes some energy to focus on the craft, but you work a lot with your hands and tools. Something quiet, so you aren't dealing with angry moms and their crying children. But something just bland enough that you're not overexerting your efforts. Could put your brain on hobbies you wanted to work. Book binding and playing basketball in your free time sounds like the dream for you, Steve."

"Yeah? You've been thinking about this for a while? 'Cause, gotta give it to you, if that's improvised, you're a fucking genius."

"Ah, thank you, thank you...you flatter me, sweetheart. In another life, I take the world by storm with my on stage presence."

"Why not in this one?"

"Hollywood's too convoluted," Eddie says, "they'd probably do some evil shit like put me on an unethical diet and call it the beauty world's next hot tip or something. Or, y'know, they'd put me in a Speedo catalog. Don't think I could do that, ruins the integrity of my image."

Steve snorts again and swipes his tongue inside his lower lip. "Hm," he assesses, eyes squinted at Eddie's shorts-clad legs, "you've got good enough legs for it, though. Put you in some zebra print tighties and call it couture."

"Again, Steve, you flatter me." Eddie hits his thigh again, drawing his attention back. "Seriously, though," he says, voice dropped low, "one day you'll have things figured out enough. Maybe you'll still love her, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll be binding books or working a cash register. But, someday, you'll be the Steve Harrington you need yourself to be. Not today, and that's okay."

"Yeah," he sighs, "not today."

He thinks of Nancy, happy in Boston. Jonathan happy in Lenora. Robin in Seattle. All of them, sans Eddie and himself, separated and happy.

It's bittersweet, to love somebody he can't have. It always will be. He knows, despite himself, that he's going to love her until the day he dies. And she won't know that, and that has to be okay. They missed the chance—he missed the chance. Things are for the better, though.

He has a new friend in Eddie. He's got a load of feelings to stifle through. And he's got a lot to look forward to in the coming years of his very formative twenties. But for now, this is it: wallowing on Eddie's couch, tossing jokes at one another, smoke coating his throat.

It's not the best, but it could certainly be a lot worse. Things are reasonable and he's alive and some stuff is amiss, but things will work out.

Especially since he's got a new person on his side.

🫂—————🫂

#stranger things #past stancy #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #I love analyzing Steve and Nancy's relationship #I love viewing Steve under a microscope

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synthshenanigans · 10 months ago

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hey so remember how I made color palettes based on the TMPH? well all the songs are out now so here's a crap ton of color palettes based on all the Power Hours!! :D

I might use em myself but if anyone else uses them, please tag me in your post!!! I'd love to see what you do with it :D

Also because I'm a nerd & I like explaining things, where I got the names for them are below if anyone curious bout them :}

TMPH:

Page one is more obvious; it just being the song title. The second page is named with Acts like how the first three songs were titled [both in CJs & in the original]. The entire acts all together is named Ego, hence the bottom being named Ego. And then all of the Ego/Acts together spell C.A.N. & as CJ said in the Directors Commentary, it funnily enough matches with his old YouTube channel name "Can of Soup" [or DJ soup I think it is now].

THDPH:

There aren't as many palettes since there wasn't much I could grab from sadly. But the names are more creative at least.

•Pocket Aces- Shutup Your Stupid: "Maybe I'll shoot my shot at one of those handsome faces. Have a couple drinks, make my stance advantageous; play my pair of Pocket Aces"

•Kismet's Call- Evl Ppl: "Our habits and our rituals aren't half as stacked as Kismet's Call"

•Coloring & Additives- Savages: "Savages! Who work with ratios and averages; Governments, establishments, Coloring and Additives"

•Course & Rough- A Drink to Death: "We were nice, but now I'm Coarse and Rough"

•Casa Infierno- Chonny's Inferno: "Perhaps a snack or beverage, on the house, from Casa Infierno"

•Unintentional Impression- Shutup Your Stupid: "He does his best Impression of me, says it came out 'Unintentionally' "

WWPH-

First page is again just the song titles. Page two is lines from some of the songs [Top two are Laplace's Angel & the bottom two are Memento Mori]. And page three is from the lyric "Heaven. Hell. Nirvana. Nothing. No one knows how it ends" from Memento Mori.

CJPH-

First three on page two are just song titles [Push should technically be labeled Don't Take it Personally but I named it wrong & only realized till just now 🙃. But oh well its too late now]. The bottom two are words from The Lie of Black and White.

•Misery: " 'Every moment I wait substantiates my Misery' "

•Melody: "Every person on Earth deserves to sing their Melody"

Page two is all for Push [or what should have been Push but i fucked up lol]. Streamers are colors from the party streamers on him. Makeup is the colors he used for his makeup [as best I can tell]. And Charcoal is for the charcoal soap goop on him. Buuuuut lets pretend it based on the line "My wrist and my heart where you kissed, pulled apart till it burns like Charcoal" from DTiP. Just so I feel less like an idiot.

Maybe ill post what photos I got the colors from if I feel like it. But if anyone's curious on a specific one, you can send an ask or smth & I'll gladly tell you :}

#this oddly took a good about of time to make #the bg detail top & corner things alone took me like an hour an a half for some reason #also this is like the second or third time i made color palettes so idk how good they actually are #but uh have fun with em if you can!#chonny jash #moss post #cj tmph #cj thdph #cj wwph #cjph #-atlas art-#technically art yea id say so

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5eraphim · 9 months ago

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swinging out the gate with pure filth but i recently stumbled upon a scout voice line that made me cream my pants (tumblr doesn't allow links as anon so i'm putting extra parentheses to make sure it doesn't appear as one (https://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/4/48/Scout_domination20.wav))

anyways it got me heavy thinking about dom scout because i really truly think this boy is a sadistic motherfucker. huge ego and need to be the best, especially growing up the youngest sibling? having someone stupidly fucked out for him blows his mind.

and i KNOW for a FACT he has a daddy kink, too, and wants a real title to hear the power he has in the moment (plus there's another scout voice line that says "come to daddy" so it's essentially confirmed because i said so).

he's still a little bit of a teenage horndog about it, rolling his eyes back and getting a little nervous when you actually do submit, because he was prepared for a fight.

i would almost say he prefers it, wanting the struggle and the power that comes with quelling the flame in you but never fully, trying to push buttons to get you to give him a shove or a nasty remark so he has an excuse to pounce on you like a predator.

"yeah? you like that? gettin' fucked on daddy's dick?" almost really talking to himself when he drills into you as fast as he physically can, positioned in missionary because he wants to see that pretty face (and tits).

he wants to see overstimulation paint your features, you know that. he also wants to see that feisty side of you just so he can tame it. you push his abdomen the best you can, hands really just shoving his shirt that he didn't bother to take off. it's not working, and all he can do is laugh at your pathetic attempt.

you yank the dog tags that dangle in front of your face, sort of wet because of the sweat he's pouring, not due of the physicality but rather that he's so worked up and thrilled that he's heating up. the chain wrings around the back of his neck a little, not necessarily doing the damage you hoped for. in fact, you can see a switch flip and his eyes darken. uh oh.

his hands slam around your neck, having previously been attached to your waist, and squeeze so hard your vision goes fuzzy at the edges and all the blood rushes from your head. "you wanna choke me? how's it feel ta be fuckin' choked, huh? stupid bitch." he's degrading, harsh because he knows he can be. your eyes well u with tears, threatening to spill, and he grins like a wolf. he loves it.

"oh, what, you gonna cry? you gonna cry now?" he spits at you. that's all it takes before the waterworks start, cooling your warm cheeks and letting him know he's won this round.

there's nothing that stops you from cumming on his cock, completely overwhelmed by feeling and so far gone that it doesn't even matter. scout's overjoyed that he's got a pretty girl so fucking stupid for him that she can't even control her body anymore. he gets so high off the feeling that he can't help but bark out every filthy thought and word he has, a reminder that he is conscious enough to talk and you're so braindead you can't form a word.

"aww" he wipes your tears with the pad of his thumb, "don' cry kid, i'm not even bein' that cruel!" he taps his thumb against your lips, scowling when you turn your head to avoid his digit. he grabs your chin to force your eyes on his. "open up and suck my fuckin' thumb or ill replace it with my cock and fuck your face."

im making my mark as 👽 emoji because i will 100% be back to write more

HELL O?? HELLO 👽!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW!!! MAKING OUT WITH THE SIDE OF YOUR NECK RIGHT NOW AS WE SPEAK

thank you so much for sending me this, a bit blown awayy right now, i must say. top-tier scout characterization, on GOD. He is MEAN. he is literally a one man bully squad- of course he's gonna overdo it act like a total maniac getting nasty with his obsession.

i love this because i love writing Scout as on the more dominant side, but in a almost playfully sadistic kind of way.

#tales from the ask box #👽 anon #im so locked in on you right now #ok but it's crazy bc i have this scout piece i've been working on and i like it a lot #and it was sooo fun to touch on something a bit different #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere self ship #yandere tf2 #yandere team fortress 2 x reader

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moose-muffin · 1 year ago

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im new here (hiya from the hazbin tag lol) but if you do character + character requests than please PLEASE gimmie a lee!vox with ler!alastor 🙏🙏🙏hear me out... the two are fighting and al (sHocKINglY) wins out, and vox expects to like.. be beaten into the ground as a result, but nope!! he gets tickled!!! to tears!!!! smthn smthn he wasnt smilin and, yk, youre never fully dressed w/o a smile!!!

/nf to do tho ty for reading!!! <3<3

OMG OMG HELLO WELCOME I HOPE YOURE DOING GOOD YIPPEE

SO FUN FACT I WAS VERY LIKE NEUTRAL TO RADIOSTATIC BUT TONIGHT HAS BEEN (HAHAH GET IT) AN ADVENTURE AND THIS ROAD HAS BEEN SUCH A BLAST <3 THOSE TWO FUCKERS ARE SO INSTIGATIVE ITS CRAZY.

I KNOWWWW THIS AS A FIC WOULD GO C R A Z Y!!!!! IDK IF ANYONE HERE WRITE FOR VOX AND ALASTOR AND PERHAPS DOES COMMISSIONS BUT I WILL PAY!!!! PLEASE HIT ME UP OR ILL PROBABLY GO TAKE A PEAK FOR MYSELF TMR <3 AS LONG AS THATS OK ANON. (I WILL ABSOLUTELY LET IT BE POSTED AS LONG AS THE AUTHOR IS OK WITH IT WHICH USUALLY THEY ARE!!!!) IM GONNA TAKE SOME CREATIVE LIBERTIES AS I TYPICALLY DO HEADCANONS!

IM NOT USUALLY A CHARACTER + CHARACTER GIRLY SO BEAR WITH ME BUT I WILL DO MY VERY BEST!!!! HOPEFULLY I CAN DO THIS JUSTICE! IT WILL BE RANDOM HCS THAT ARE UNRELATED TOO. MY BRAIN IS A MESSY PLACE HWBSHWDBD

OK SO LIKE I KINDA MENTIONED, THEY BOTH LOOOOVE TO JUST GET UNDER PEOPLES SKIN. LOVE IT!!! ESPECIALLY ALASTOR. HES SUCH AN ASS (affectionate)

I’D EVEN SAY HE’S KIND OF AN INSTIGATIVE LER???? BRO IS DOING EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO GET TO TICKLE VOX LIKEEE IDK IF THAT EVEN MAKES SENSE BUT I KNOW ITS TRUE. HE WILL CASUALLY WIGGLE HIS FINGERS IN CONVERSATION, TWEAK HIS RIBS FROM BEHIND, LITTLE THINGS LIKE THAT. WELL THEYRE NOT LITTLE. ESPECIALLY NOT TO VOX WHO IS SO FLUSTERED BY IT… ITS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING

BUT! VOX HAS STARTED TO FIGURE IT OUT. AS HE IS ALSO ONE WHO LOVEEES TO GET UNDER SKIN, HE DECIDES HE’LL DO EVERYTHING TO TRIGGER A LER MOOD IN ALASTOR. IF HE CAN TELL HE ALREADY HAS ONE, HE FINDS WAYS TO SUBTLY (WE ALL KNOW HE ISNT SUBTLE THOUGH) LEAVE A SPOT UNPROTECTED. BUT ALASTOR DOESNT WANT TO GIVE HIM THE SATISFACTION!!! HE TRIES SO HARD TO NOT GIVE IN TO VOX BC HE “WANTED TO BE THE ONE IN CONTROL” AND NOW HE ISNT AND HES #PISSED

ALSO VOX ABSOLUTELY IS HORRIFIED OF VULNERABILITY. YET HE IS ABLE TO MOVE PAST IT WITH ALASTOR HERE. SOMEHOW HE ISNT AS WORRIED ANYMORE. MAYBE HE KNOWS ALASTOR WILL REACT. HE LOVES THAT SO VERY MUCH.

AS FOR THE SPECIFIC PROMPT, OH THAT IS SO REAL!!!! ABSOLUTELY YES!!!

I DONT WRITE GOOD ROMANCE BUT LIKE UGH IMAGINE IT NOW. Alastor definitely just got himself to the V’s tower and was planning on fucking with Vox only to see he had already been kinda pissed off. Alastor wouldn’t be as satisfied if he knew he didn’t cause the frustration. He realized he could just stir the pot again. Problem solved, and what better way to solve it than using his weakness against him.. being tickled.

I’m being a little silly but genuinely Vox is so ticklish. Like most ticklish person in hell would go to him if it were an official title. That’s what I’m thinking. That being said, Alastor also knows how quickly he could get him to crumble… but wouldn’t it be more fun to take it slow.

Vox notices his presence almost immediately. He tried to ignore it as he feels his face get warm. He can’t fuck this up. He takes a deep breath and turns around. “Why hello, Alastor! What brings you to our building this evening?” He said in a semi newcaster voice. He wasn’t ready to drop the act

“Well Vox, I came here for a reason of my own but then I walked by your office and you looked so sad!” He began to walk closer to Vox. “You know, t they say you’re never fully dressed without a smile!”

Vox let out a laugh that was quite clearly untruthful. “Yes Alastor I am aware! I was alone in here and so I figured I’d just save up some energy. I’m sure you understand.”

“Quite frankly I don’t,” Alastor paused, “I think maybe I could help you get that smile back.”

Vox didn’t even have to think. He knew Alastor meant he was going to tickle him. You could ask Velvette. She’s seen those two in tickle fights that lasted for DAYS. she knows what they’re capable of, or more so what Alastor is capable of.

Vox puts up a fight for maybe a couple seconds but he just loves tickles more than he can play pretend that he doesn’t <3

It works out well for them both, Alastor gets to fuck around with Vox and well, Vox gets his shit rocked!!! And he loves that more than a lot of things.

OK IM GONNA CUT IT OFF HERE BUT PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COME BACK!!!! IM ALWAYS DOWN TO HEAR WHAT PEOPLE ARE THINKING!! MAYBE ID DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS AGAIN OR LIKE ADD ONTO THIS!!! BUT I AM JUST ALL OVER THE PLACE CURRENTLY HEHE. I HOPE THESE ARE ENJOYABLE!!! (LOWKEY I WANNA ADD MORE TO THISSSS MAYBE TMR MAYBE TMR WE’LL SEE)

apologies if anything is ooc, i just do this for funsies <3

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASKK

#madi’s answers!!#hazbin hotel tickle #madis hcs up in here #lee!vox #ler!alastor #AM I BECOMINF A RADIOSTATIC FAN…????#I THINK I AM TEHEHEHE #radiostatic tickle

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rorywritesjunk · 1 year ago

Text

A mini lil fic. PG. Mentions of animal illness and death. Crying people. Takes place about a year into Buggy and Sunny's marriage (this isn't spoilery since it was mentioned in the Kid Buggy fic 👀) Title comes from The Cave by Mumford and Sons.

And I'll find strength in pain And I will change my ways

To Buggy, Sunny can do no wrong. Ever. He thinks she's absolutely perfect. He's the type of husband who would do whatever he could for her to make sure she's always happy. He remembers her birthday, her favorite flower, the day they met. Everything.

He fucks up badly only once in their marriage and it was within the first year.

Sunny was crying over the loss of one of Mohji's animals, a bear. It was sick for a while and she convinced Buggy to see if they could find someone to treat the poor thing. When they finally anchored and they found a vet, it was too late. The poor thing was past treatment so the humane thing was to put the bear to sleep. Mohji was a wreck and Sunny was inconsolable.

Buggy was an idiot.

"It's just an animal, babe." He grumbled one night while getting ready for bed. "Mohji isn't even crying that much over it."

"B-But I feel so bad for him!" Sunny sniffed as she held a tissue to her face. "He-he loved that bear so much, Buggy! And he's dead! We couldn't help him!"

He rolled his eyes. The vet wasn't sure why the bear's health declined suddenly. Mohji took very good care of the animals, but sometimes things happened. Mohji and some of the men buried the animal out in the woods later that day but Buggy didn't want Sunny to tag along. He wanted her to get over it.

"Look, the animals aren't your concern, okay?" He sighed as he got into bed beside her. "Just suck it up and move on. Mohji already has."

Sunny lowered the tissue from her face as she turned to look at Buggy. "What did you just say?"

He paused for a moment, trying to recall what he just said.

"I... Said the animals aren't your concern?"

"Try again."

Oh shit. He heard the tone in Sunny's voice and knew he was in trouble. There has been one time before when he heard her speak like that and he knew he was in trouble.

"Sunny, b-babe, just... Don't concern yourself with Mohji's animals." He managed to get out, smiling wide at her, hoping she wouldn't get mad. She sat beside him in bed, arms crossed as she stared at him with an unreadable look on her face. "All I said was... Suck it up and move on... B-Because it's just one bear, babe. Not a big deal."

"So what you're saying is you don't want me to express emotions, Buggy?" Sunny asked coldly. "I should just keep it all inside or something?"

"Yes!"

Oh, no, that wasn't the right answer. He tried again.

"I mean... Show them but... Not all the time? Just... Just stop crying?"

Sunny stared at him before she laid down on the bed with her back to him. He reached out to touch her shoulder but she jerked away from him.

"Don't, Buggy." She snapped.

"B-Babe, come on!" He insisted. "I didn't mean, um-"

"Good night." She pulled the blankets close and closed her eyes. He didn't even get a good night kiss.

Sunny cooked him breakfast the next morning but left when he started eating. He thought maybe she'd be better by lunch time, but she repeated what she did at breakfast: fixed him a plate and left.

He tried talking to her but she ignored him as she went about her chores.

Fine, he could also be stubborn and ignore her.

Except that only lasted a few hours before he was on the ground in front of her while she patched a hole in a crewman's pants. Buggy was hugging her legs, trying to get her to notice him, but she ignored him as she worked.

"Babe, please don't ignore me!" He begged. "Please!"

One thing Buggy learned about his wife that week was she could stand her ground. She gave Buggy the cold shoulder for an entire week. Seven days. If he would have apologized she would have stopped but he didn't until the end of the week when he was at her feet again, resting his head in her lap while she worked. Mohji and some men were off the ship again, getting supplies, while Sunny worked.

"Please talk to me." Buggy whined pitifully. "What do I have to do?"

Sunny sighed and stopped what she was doing. "Apologize to me. That's all I want."

"A-Apologize?! For what?!" Buggy demanded. Sunny stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "You should apologize to me for ignoring me all week!"

"Really, Buggy?" Sunny said. "You tell me to stop crying, not to show emotions, but you want me to apologize to you, is that what you're saying?"

"Obviously! You've been ignoring me all week, Sunny! Why should I apologize?!"

"Because you hurt my feelings!" Sunny exclaimed. "Buggy, I was upset and instead of comforting me you told me to suck it up! I have never once said anything like that to you when you were down, so I'd expect you would comfort me when I need it!"

Buggy's eyes widened slowly. He felt like a terrible husband because Sunny was right. She was always there, hugging and reassuring him whenever he needed it, ever since they met, and she never asked for anything in return. The one time she wanted it he ignored her feelings and made it about him.

"I-I 'm sorry, Sunny! I am, please, I'm sorry, don't... Don't do this anymore." He pleaded as he buried his face in her lap. "I'm sorry. You... You can cry as much as you want. Don't leave me or anything."

Sunny took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and looked down at Buggy. "I am not leaving you over this. And I'm glad you apologized, Buggy."

He glanced up at her, eyes watery as he sniffed. "Really?"

"Yes." She said. "Now never say anything like that to me again, are we clear?"

He could only nod, tears in his eyes as he clung to her. Sunny could feel a headache coming on.

"I love you." He mumbled as he shut his eyes, clinging to her while she resumed her tasks.

"I love you too, Buggy." Sunny replied. "Now let me finish my work, okay?"

He just nodded, keeping close to her, fearful she might disappear before his eyes. Sunny reached down to pat him on the head gently before finishing her work. She was glad he apologized and hoped he would learn from this, but she would also be more vocal about her emotional needs as well around him, and if he ever told her to suck it up again then she would walk away.

end.

#buggy the clown x reader #sunny x buggy #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #mini fic

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merryfortune · 2 months ago

Text

feeling bloody sick

Written for the Rarest of Rare Pairs Fic-A-Thon Amnesty Era

Prompt: Fire Emblem Fates: Beruka/Camilla/Selena - One falling sick and being taken care of by the other two

Title: feeling bloody sick

Ship: Beruka/Camilla/Selena

Fandom: Fire Emblem Fates

Word Count: 1,898

Rating: T

Warning: Choose Not to Warn

Tags: Mid-Canon, Polyamory, Menstruation, Teasing, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Beruka did not get sick.

Sickness and whatever caused it were rightfully scared of Beruka, like everyone else ought to be as well, and that was why Beruka did not get sick.

Of course, having a sound mind helped. She didn’t do foolish things like not washing her hands properly or standing too long out in the rain. And yet, despite continuing on as she always had with this point of pride somewhere over her shoulder, she had finally done it.

She had gotten sick.

And the symptoms were nothing less than baffling.

She was hot and cold. She was sweaty and clammy. She felt as though she had been stabbed through the gut and all she wanted to do was curl up and die in some little hole with a blanket over her. She was so ill that if she tried to sleep, she couldn’t because the pain was distracting but she was so tired, too. She could fall asleep at any second but the call of the void blared within.

What had happened to her? Beruka analysed her past few days for what might have gone wrong but nothing came to mind. She hadn’t interacted with anyone sick nor eaten anything foul. It had come out of nowhere and affected her and her alone.

“Selena… please…” Beruka murmured, curled over on her bed. “I… I think its my time. I trust you and Camilla to do it quickly.”

Camilla laughed at the dramatics. This whatever it was Beruka was afflicted with was bringing out a totally new side of her and it was kind of adorable.

“You just need to drink more water.” Selena insisted.

“Noooo, that makes me want to pee.” Beruka whined then huffed.

“You need to go, don’t you?” Selena asked, reading through the lines.

Beruka nodded shyly.

Selena sighed. “I’ll help.”

Good thing, too, Beruka was wobbly as she crawled out of bed and almost hit the floor once she was on two feet. Selena supported her and Camilla opened the door to the ensuite.

They gave Beruka some privacy and waited.

Then.

She screamed.

“Camilla! There is blood!” Beruka howled. Suddenly full of life and panic, just like the death rattle of a dying animal, really. “There is blood in my urine!”

Camilla and Selena, on the other side of the door, exchanged a look. Part of it surprised, part of it amused. Either way, tinged with concern.

Beruka hobbled over and banged on the door. She was let out as her unflappable expression was anything but.

“There is blood. In my urine.” Beruka reiterated with distress.

“Oh, sweetie…” Camilla cooed.

“Are you… on your period?” Selena asked with her face scrunched up.

“My period?” Beruka echoed back like an owl. “I’ve never had my period in my life. I-I’ve always assumed I was barren.”

Camilla hummed thoughtfully, “Or maybe, you’re just a late bloomer.”

“A very late bloomer.” Selena repeated but with a more dubious tone.

“You had a hard life before becoming my retainer. Food wasn’t always on the table, you slept in tents and slums. To say nothing of the work that you were doing… Perhaps that delayed your periods until now.” Camilla theorised then laughed. “It’s kind of sweet to know that you feel so subconsciously safe with us, actually.”

Beruka paled, puzzled.

“That could be true, actually.” Selena agreed as she folded her arms. “My periods were spotty when I was twelve, and that’s normal since that’s when I first got them but, um, when that big disaster happened when I was around seventeen-eighteen, they all but dried up. Only resuming after we had recovered.”

“I see.” Beruka chewed on the anecdotal data with much consideration. Her brows furrowed and she put her hand to her chin.

“Come on, dear,” Camilla sighed with a small smile, “let’s not worry about it too much just yet. Let’s get you back to bed, let you rest up some more. Here, Selena and I will go and fetch some creature comforts for you. A hot water bottle, maybe some chocolate.”

“Yeah.” Selena agreed.

Beruka’s expression turned foul. Her? Get taken care of by her mistress and her fellow retainer? The idea of it made her stomach turn- oh, no, actually that was probably her period. How mortifying either way, however, and becoming the ultimate proof that they were right. She needed to go back to bed and rest up.

“Allow us.” Selena said with grabby gestures of her hands.

“Fine.” Beruka said through gritted teeth.

It was disgraceful but she allowed herself to be manhandled by Selena, and Camilla too. They helped her back to bed but having a name - or revelation - to her ailment made it more manageable somehow. She felt more awake and alert than before, when she had been begging for a mercy kill over it.

How embarrassing. Now Beruka was hiding under the covers for all new reasons. She knew she still wasn’t going to get to sleep a wink but orders were orders. As indulgent as they were. So, she laid down and rugged up, blanket to her chin as she stared across the room to the doorframe where Camilla and Selena stood.

“We’ll be back soon, sweetheart.” Camilla bade her.

�� “Understood.” Beruka croaked.

They closed the door behind themselves and the wait was crushing. The dull stillness of the room numbed Beruka’s mind with boredom. All she had to focus on was that thrum of the stomach cramps which had yet to recede. She tried different positions to alleviate the hurt but all of them violated her conventional wisdom of how to deal with an injury. The more bunched up she was, the better she felt.

She closed her eyes. Slowed her breathing. That helped somewhat as time passed at a glacial speed. The headache that had been lurking eased up at that and yet… Curiously returned when her ears pricked on the sound of footsteps: the paradoxically delicate clunk of armour and the stamping of a petty child in leather. No guesses as to who when the door to her room opened again.

“We’re baaaack.” Camilla sung out.

“And we have chocolate.” Selena cheered smugly.

“Gee, thanks.” Beruka rolled her eyes.

They returned to her bedside with an entire basket of goodies. A cursory glance through the contents that weren’t obscured by Camilla or the cane weaving of it, Beruka saw the chocolate and hot water bottle she had been promised. As well as sanitary napkins and some spare pairs of underwear.

“We spoke with one of the physicians and they raised some alarm. The pain you seem to be in isn’t normal…” Camilla lamented as she sat down next to Beruka on her bed. “But they also said, it might just be because it's your first, hard to say without more of a known pattern.”

Beruka groaned. She had decades of this to “look forward” to and that alone tortured her half as much as her damned by the gods, good for nothing uterus. Awful, just awful. She clutched her belly and raked her fingers through the flesh until it hurt good.

“In the meantime, let’s get some pain killers into you.” Selena said.

“Thank you…” Beruka said.

She swallowed more than just her stoic pride on that one. She uncurled and wriggled up, allowed herself to be doted on by her partners. Beruka drank water with a mix of herbal powders. The taste was bitter but she was the last person to complain about that. Though, the fact that a cube of chocolate was offered next helped the medicine to go down.

Camilla took far too much relish in getting the opportunity to personally hand feed Beruka. Beruka saw what she was like with her siblings, she would be needlessly cruel to deny Camilla her affectionate nature at a moment like this.

“I hope you feel better soon.” Camilla said.

Beruka exhaled through her nose and settled into her bed. She was now flanked - or more gently, spooned - by both Camilla and Selena. Her mistress to her right and her fellow retainer to her left. The increase in shared body temperature was going to make Beruka melt with the excess of pampering didn’t first.

Camilla caressed Beruka’s face, wiped sweat off with her axe-calloused fingertips. She smiled and played with Beruka’s hair. Beruka went around in circles in her mind between hating it and loving it. She thought she had long since calcified any need for this sort of thing but Camilla was her greatest weakness: hence why she needed to be protected. Ugh, it just made Beruka want to get better soon yet there were more days of this until normalcy resumed for a moon’s cycle.

“Is there anything else we can do?” Camilla asked.

“No, all my needs are accounted for.” Beruka replied.

“But if I had to guess,” Selena teased and poked out her tongue, “you are probably worried with how we’ll go with you taking a back seat to your duties, correct?”

“Correct.” Beruka confirmed.

“Don’t worry, I’m more than capable of picking up the slack.” bragged said and her hands snaked downwards, she took Beruka’s hand and started playing a game on them akin to ‘this little piggy’, “You concentrate on getting better. We’ll concentrate on everything else.”

“Heh. Thank you.” Beruka said.

“Never change, Selena.” Camilla laughed at the attempt of rivalry.

All three of them knew the bond that united them was nothing quite so tumultuous but old habits broke hard. Still, Beruka appeared somewhat assuaged by that. She sank back into her bed, closed her eyes, and her expression changed: became as serene as it could be for someone like her.

Beruka exhaled slowly and she drifted off slightly. Perhaps even dozed. Her head lolled to the side.

“I think it's time for us to take our leave, Lady Camilla.” Selena whispered.

“Me, too, Selena.” Camilla whispered.

The two women were careful to dislodge from Beruka’s side so as to not disturb her. Though, her head nodded further to her left than before.

Camilla leaned in and pecked Beruka’s temple. Beruka’s lips twitched. Camilla reared back and Selena did the same.

“Thank you…” Beruka murmured.

“Eeek!” Selena squealed.

She bolted straight back. Her back straightened and the last hair on her head raised as her eyes went wide. Her arms turned to iron bars in front of her chest in having been ambushed like that - and by Beruka saying something nice, even! How dare.

All whilst, outwardly, Beruka looked fast asleep.

“What…?” Beruka sleep-talked. “You… you think I don’t… sleep with one eye open?” She yawned.

“Get proper rest, Beruka.” Camilla told her. “And when you do feel better, don’t forget to clean up with what we gave you.”

“Will do…” Beruka snored.

Selena eased up and she put her hand on her hip. Camilla gave her a gesture and she nodded. She extinguished the candle nearby and that helped the room to darken despite the hour of the day. She also drew the curtains tighter for Beruka’s benefit as Beruka yes, still heard all these things.

The swish of the fabric, the taps of footwear on the wooden boards but still. She appreciated it deeply in her hour of need and moment of weakness. Though by now, the medicine was kicking in by now but ultimately, she still felt bloody sick.

#rarest of rare pairs ficathon #femslash #fire emblem #fire emblem fates #fef #berucamiselena #beruka (fire emblem)#camilla (fire emblem)#selena (fire emblem)#writing tag #feeling bloody sick #guess who is riding the crimson wave

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thevampiremarie · 2 years ago

Text

treehouse 🔞 (also available on ao3)

tags: smut, pregnancy, 🔞, mental illness, trauma, eventual happy ending

Dream of the Endless | Lord Morpheus x reader

It's a common story; you meet a tall, dark, and handsome man outside of a club and take him home that night. When he leaves, you don't think you'll ever see him again.

Now, what's less common is what happens a couple of weeks later, when you realize you're pregnant. But you only know his name, if that even is his real name: "Dream".

What exactly are you going to do now?

(title from the song Treehouse by Alex G) (originally posted on AO3)

You don’t usually do this kind of thing.

‘Thing’ here refers to venturing out of your apartment, alone, dressed to the nines and in search of trouble. The kind of thing that every other twenty-something you know does on a regular basis.

But it’s always been too hard for you to gather up the energy for such an effort. Depression can do that.

Tonight, though, you’re trying, even though you’re definitely the only person in this club without anyone else to accompany them.

The party feels like something out of that new Batman movie; bass reverberating through the soles of your sneakers and smoke curling through the air, heavy-fingered and tinged blood red from the colored lights.

You had choked down a panic attack on the walk from the train to the club, only making it down those few blocks of sidewalk by reminding yourself that you can leave whenever it stops being fun, over and over.

The ice in your drink is fully melted and in the whole hour you’ve wandered around, you’ve really only spoken to the very pretty bartender. She complimented your dress, and you would’ve complimented her eyes in return, but you’re aware that she was only being polite and doing her job.

Without much fanfare, you abandon your glass filled halfway with water and halfway with vodka sour next to all the other discarded glasses. This has officially stopped being fun, though whether or not it was ever fun to begin with is up for debate, and you take that as your cue to dip.

Once you’re outside, the cool air a pleasant balm on your sweat-sticky cheeks, you quickly snag a cigarette out of the carton in your purse. A raven watches you struggle to light it.

He’s a curious bird, calm as any human, and you win the staring contest between the two of you. When he cocks his head at the sound of your laughter, you swear he can practically understand you. You keep giggling as you crouch down and offer your shitty lighter to the raven. “Well? Are you gonna help me or just stand there making fun?”

“Matthew has always had a sense of humor.” At the sound of someone’s accented voice, as rich and deep as whiskey, you stand and turn to see a man looking at you and your new corvus buddy.

Oh fuck, he’s beautiful.

You go with beautiful as handsome is definitely the wrong word. The stranger is beautiful in a way that doesn’t quite seem humanly possible, like it breaks your brain a little bit to look at his brilliant eyes, to take in his high, sweeping cheekbones and plush mouth.

“The raven’s name is Matthew?”

“Yes.” You’re tempted to ask him if he, like, has a podcast or maybe records audiobooks. If he doesn’t, he should. He’d do super well.

Seriously. It’s catnip to you. The sound unfurls from his throat with a touch of rasp, but still purer and more resonant than any other voice you can recall.

You’re reminded of what priests say the voice of God sounds like. This is a very weird thing to come to mind when a random guy talks, especially as you aren’t really religious like that. He definitely could get a whole lot of people to do as he wished just by asking, you think. A God needs to have that quality. Or a cult leader.

You swallow down the heat inside that stokes hotter with every moment his bright gaze clings to your face, to the curve of your lips. His structured black coat fits across his proud shoulders well; it looks expensive and he appears to have an awfully good tailor.

You decide to go along with the bit. Bits are fun and talking to this man is exactly the kind of shenanigan you were hoping to stumble across. “That’s a good name. Did you give him that?”

He smiles knowingly. “He named himself.”

That’s funny. It makes sense; ravens are as clever as any person, the Internet says, so someone looking at one of those birds and feeling as though it named itself isn’t totally out of left field.

You hope he elaborates on that, but the stranger doesn’t seem inclined to help you out there. But you don’t want the silence to settle much longer. It might drive him away, and you’d like him to stick around longer. Maybe get his number. “Well, I hope he knows it suits him. Hey. You think you could light this for me? You saw me try it with Matthew, but I don’t think he has enough claws to make it work.” You hold out the lighter with shaky fingers, nervousness fighting desire in your veins.

When he takes it from you, his skin brushes yours. It’s almost electric. “…of course.”

You’ve never felt attracted to someone so fast. The wanting hits you like an avalanche; a dream of his palms on your hips and red marks on your skin from his teeth pours through your mind.

The man cups his other hand over the flame as you lean in, at last lighting your neglected smoke. Your lungs fill with him, not tobacco smoke. His scent, sharp and comforting all at once, makes you just as woozy, just as lightheaded as the nicotine does. “Thank you, I, um, appreciate it. Do you have a name, too?”

“You may call me Dream.”

Your best friend would appreciate his excellent grammar. Clever of him to use ‘might’; if you were a Fae trying to get his real name, he’s answered in exactly the way someone trying to not get fairy abducted should. These are the kinds of tidbits that amuse you, even if you won’t ever use them. So you’ve spent your life hoarding random information like this, just for funsies.

“Your choice of words there is noted, ‘Dream’.” Your smile warms your voice and he steps in a little closer, close enough that you have to tilt your head up a bit to maintain eye contact. Like staring at an eclipse. That’s bad for your eyesight, you tell yourself. But you can’t look away.

His lashes are as black as his thick, undone hair, framing a lidded and darkening gaze.“Were you just leaving?”

Oh fuck yeah. “Um, yeah, not really my scene. Kinda boring, at least for me. It’s a shame; I was hoping to actually make getting out of the house tonight worth it, but. No dice.” You haven’t done this game in quite awhile, but you still remember the rules. A bit of a tease at the end, just to imply that you’re interested. What can you do? He makes you bold, bolder than normal. You want him to want you.

“Pity.” A pause stretches between you and you feel your heart sink into your stomach, your anxiety revving up again. What if he just walks away and leaves you here, embarrassed and in your head for believing someone like you could attract someone like him?

“Do you still wish to make getting out of the house tonight worth it?” Your words sound out of place in his mouth, too modern.

What’s that joke about how some actors in period dramas clearly look like they know what an iPhone is? Dream is apparently the opposite of that. He seems entirely above petty concerns like lamenting the lack of decent hookups.

The discordance has you stifling a giggle.

You dream some more about his hand tangling in your hair and his body covering yours, his knee between your thighs. And the fire, deep in your belly, burns brighter and brighter. “Depends on what we’re doing.”

When Dream smiles, it’s beautiful and uncanny. He looks like a predator, and you’ve stumbled right where he wants you. It’s hot. You’re good with that. “You know what.”

“…yes.”

You can’t really remember how you got back to your apartment - Dream has been far too busy pressing his mouth to yours, devouring the heady, saliva-slick kisses you’re freely offering up, for you to pay attention to something like that.

As soon as you’ve made it inside the front door, he pins you against the wall to wrap an elegant, long-fingered hand in your hair, tipping your face towards him so he can nip at your bottom lip with sharp teeth. “You are… exquisite,” He murmurs against your lips, pupils blown so large that his eyes look like galaxies with an endless black hole in the center, pulling you towards his gravity.

You grow wetter at the sound of the lust roughening up the edges of his polished voice, at the awe in his words. “Please,” you moan as he bites aching marks into the column of your throat that are sure to bruise purple and red tomorrow. You want them to bruise, you want to have something left behind after this hookup ends, proof he was there.

You’re not even sure how to articulate what exactly you’re begging for. That’s beyond what your mind is capable of right now, as his hand fists in your hair and tightens until it’s the perfect amount of slightly painful and you’re gasping, desperate for more. Your hands have twisted into the collar of his coat this whole time and you don’t let go. The feeling of the cloth rounds you and more than anything, you don’t want him to back away.

Dream seems to understand your pleading - he lathes the bruises with his tongue and you would do anything he wanted, as long as he would do that between your thighs. His other hand trails against the swell of your breast, gently caressing them through your thin dress. You arch into his touch, his fingers rolling over your nipple, plucking at it before palming your chest once more.

You’re greedy - you want even more. With a frustrated groan, you shove your dress off about as fast as you’re capable of doing so, getting tangled in the sleeves in your enthusiasm. A whine escapes your chest - seriously?

You’re so horny at this point that any fumbling delay like this might cause a meltdown, especially in front of someone as hot as Dream, but he simply smiles affectionately and untangles you, soothing your ruffled feathers with his calm, steady touch. The dress flutters to the ground in a heap. “Be still,” He admonishes you, before sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your body bared to him. “Fuck.”

Your underwear is soaked through and it clings to your thighs as you shift, desperately trying to relieve the yearning need inside.

Dream seems transfixed by you, utterly enraptured by your full breasts and the dip of your waist, the soft curves of your hips. Those pretty, blinding eyes almost glow in the dim light of your living room lamp and as his fingers leave your hair to trail down your neck, a line down your clavicle, his touch relishing in the softness of your skin, you’ve never felt more desired.

Then, he meets your round, hungry eyes. “Do you want this?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course,” You pant. He’s moving too slow for you; you yank him towards you again, your mouth vicious as you kiss him. Dream’s still fully clothed, which seems a bit unfair, but there’s something about the intentional vulnerability of standing before him mostly-naked that you secretly enjoy. He has the upper hand at the moment, and you’re actually pretty okay with that.

Impatience and a bratty touch of mischief briefly win out over the urge to please him, to revel in his affections, so you quickly slip away from his grasp and flee towards your bedroom, with Dream hot on your trail.

Before you make it all the way to your bed, still unmade from earlier today, he catches you by your waist, wrapping his hand around your jaw tight enough to leave fingerprints so he can expose the side of your neck to the burn of his lips.

You fully expect him to toss you down on the bed and have his way with you, but Dream lowers you down carefully with one hand cradling the back of your head and his eyes fixed on your face, possession and lust blossoming in his terrifyingly beautiful smile

You need him.

He peels off his clothes quickly. Underneath all those dark, rich fabrics, his lean, muscle-bound torso gleams in the moonlight like a marble statue of some old god. You’ve always loved Ancient Greece and their perfectly-sculpted effigies.

Then Dream is on you again. He sinks to his knees before you and his position doesn’t feel like submission, not when you’ve fully surrendered to him. His mouth trails down your body and his hands can’t stop touching you; you gasp as you writhe in his steady embrace holding you still.

Your underwear gets discarded in some corner of your room - you’ll look for it later, when your hookup leaves.

He hooks one of your legs on his shoulder and buries his head between your thighs. He’s like, really good at eating you out. You’re sort of shocked, because you haven’t had great experiences with this, but his tongue traces your clit and the overwhelming pleasure from Dream’s touch forces a desperate cry out of you.

He chuckles against your pussy, now teasing intentionally as he traces around your clit, around your dripping core, before returning to his task. Dream carefully sinks two fingers inside of you and his groan at how your cunt flutters around his fingers vibrates through you. You’re so full already, the pressure pinching a little, and he’s careful, so careful when he starts to move in and out of you, sucking at your clit to soothe the ache from the stretch.

You’re moaning, and you can’t even breathe, can’t catch your breath; it’s so fucking good, and you feel the beginning of an orgasm coiling inside you already.

Any pain completely dissipates as Dream’s mouth indulges you, tastes you like he wants nothing more than to eat you out for the rest of time. Your body instinctively twitches away, hips trying to escape his touch. The pleasure burns through your body like a wildfire, and the intensity is almost too much, especially when the pads of his fingers find a sensitive spot inside your trembling, hypersensitive cunt. “Fuck, Dream, fuck-“

When he pulls away from you, his mouth is slick with your arousal, and you watch him lick it from his lips. “Did I not say to be still?” He speaks quietly, evenly, a contrast to the needy whines you make at the loss of contact.

But his fingers don’t let up. Dream keeps moving them inside of you, and it’s hard to find the capacity to answer him when he intentionally brushes against that delicate, tender place.

You’d do anything for him to keep going. Anything. “No, you did, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry.”

He does nothing for a moment; even his fingers pause as you spasm around him. And just when you think he’s going to completely withdraw and punish you for not following his instructions, he absolves you. “Good girl.”

Dream braces his other arm against your hips so you can’t escape how he pleasures you, and even as your body jerks when he enters you again, picking up the pace and fucking you open, you can’t move away. He replaces his tongue on your clit with his thumb, pressing even circles into your sensitive flesh so he can watch your face twisted in ecstasy and the brilliant flush crawling up your tits towards your throat with hungry, star-bright eyes.

Dream needs you undone before him just much as you want him to take you apart.

You’re so wet that it’s obscene, his fingers dripping with you, and the sound your pussy makes with every movement is embarrassingly loud, almost as loud as your moans.

Your impending orgasm sparks back to life as he patiently builds you back up, your thighs trembling and eyes rolling at a particularly forceful thrust. When he fits another finger inside your soaked core, your eyes roll back in your head as you cry out in surprise. It’s too good, the pain and pleasure bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Fuck, you can feel it, right there, feel it threatening to pull you under like a riptide, and each movement pushes the breath out of your lungs. It takes a minute to realize Dream is matching his thumb teasing your clit with his careful, gentle pushes against that spot inside your pussy. He knows your body so well for someone you’ve never met before, and in his capable, clever hands, you’re so close to coming apart.

He’s still looking at you, completely enraptured by your back arching off the end and your eyes hazy with lust. Dream takes your clit into his mouth once more, tongue flicking against you as he chases your orgasm.

“Thank you, oh my god, I’m gonna come,” You beg helplessly, writhing and squirming against him, your body wound up so tight that it hurts.

“That’s it. Give it to me.”

He commands, and you obey, coming around his fingers with a drawn-out cry. You’re coming, and it eats you alive, the fall flooding through you like lightning. Dream helps you through it, bearing down, so your pussy trembles through your orgasm on his firm, clever hands. You feel yourself gush around him, and he groans at the feeling of it, slowing his fingers pumping in and out of you without stopping altogether, eking out every last bit of your pleasure that he can.

And Dream instinctively knows when you’re done, when you can’t give him any more, so he finally withdraws and licks his fingers clean of your cum.

You can’t totally feel your legs, and you need to finally catch your breath, but you look at him, pleased and benevolent and still desirous of you, and you know you can go another round.

You prop yourself up on shaky arms to meet his filthy, messy kiss; the taste of your salty musk blooms on your tongue, and he wraps his arms around your sweaty, heated body. “Will you fuck me? Please? I want it,” You ask when you break the kiss. You’re a quick study, and Dream seems to like it when you tell him that you want him.

His eyes are almost completely black when he answers you. “Yes.” Dream’s tone is menacing and dark, and fuck, if you don’t drip on your blankets at the promise in his voice.

You like submitting to him, like how he handles your body like it’s his, and before he can push you down, you flip over and sink down on your knees, back arched and face pressed into the bed. “Like this?” You realize you’re asking for permission, which is something maybe you should’ve negotiated beforehand.

But you shouldn’t have worried; he’s very much on the same page. “Yes.”

You wait for him to shift behind you. You can’t see Dream, and the anticipation sends a thrill down your spine. You’re exposed and vulnerable in this position, and he could do anything.

His hands caress your ass, your thighs, your curves, lingering indulgently. It’s as if you’re precious, as if you’re the most holy thing he’s ever touched.

After pressing a single, sweet kiss on the base of your spine, Dream kneels behind you, and you can feel his hips against your ass. He seems intent on soothing the tension out of you, patiently stroking your heated skin until you melt at his touch.

And when you’re soft and pliant, he pushes in.

He’s pretty big, big enough that even after three fingers and an orgasm, you still feel a pinch as he thrusts deeper. You involuntarily make a soft noise of discomfort; you don’t want him to think you’re not enjoying this, to draw away from you. But Dream takes his time, gently opening you up on his dick as you start to relax.

When he finally seats himself inside you, that slight noise of discomfort turns into a deep, contented sigh. You’re so full, your pussy stretched comfortably to its limits, and you go slack against the sheets. Your cum from your last orgasm is soon matched by a new well of arousal from the feeling of his dick in you, heavy and hard and incredible.

And when he starts moving, your pillow muffles your loud moans. He fucks you slowly at first, mindful of how tight you are. It’s so caring, and it works; you enjoy the leisurely build-up much more. Before long, you’re aching for everything else he can give you.

He doesn’t have you entirely out of your mind yet, so you slot your hips back against his to meet his thrusts. And when you clench particularly hard around his cock, Dream also groans. “Alright,” he says with a hint of amusement. “You can have it.”

He fucks you in earnest now, one hand fisted in your hair and holding you down as he moves in you faster and faster, tears forming in your eyes from how ridiculously good it feels. With each push, he takes pieces of your higher functioning abilities with him, so all that’s left is your body responding to his touches, your mind drunk on his dick. Dream is addictive and so completely good at this; he hits just the right angle that torments you with pleasure.

“Holy shit, fuck, that feels-“ you cut yourself off with a long moan as his dick presses against your most sensitive places. But Dream is fed up with the pillow muffling your sounds. He wants to hear them, wants you to scream and moan and cry out as much as you want, and he draws you up off the bed by your hair as he keeps pounding into you.

Your shaky arms barely support you, but you manage.

Dream keeps moving as he hisses into your ear. You can barely focus on what he’s saying, not when he’s stretching you out with each furious push and forcing you closer to your second orgasm of the night. “I need to hear you. You’ll let me hear you,” He promises before biting at your throat, sucking in another mark on your skin where you’ll struggle to conceal it.

“Yes, yes, yes,” You chant. Anything. Anything he wants.

Dream keeps hold of your hair to arch your spine in such a way that every time he enters you, his cock thrusts against that tender bit inside, and your cunt spasms around him.

He wants to hear you. And you let him. Wailing with every brutal thrust, eyes rolling back in your head. God, you don’t want this to end, but you’re not sure you can take much more; he’s already maxed you to your limits with how good Dream can make you feel at once. You can hear his deep grunts as you start fucking yourself back on his dick.

Your clit aches at the lack of contact, and he gently lets you slump against the bed once more so he can slip his hand around your hips and gently play with the sensitive nub.

Your orgasm is back with a vengeance. You edge towards it so quickly that it takes you by surprise, encouraged and beckoned by his fingers moving on your clit in tandem with his cock ruining you. You keep waiting and waiting to go over the edge before realizing that Dream is gatekeeping you from it, cleverly changing up how he fucks you to stave off your orgasm. To torture you. If you were capable of thought, you’d tell Dream he’s being cruel and beg him to let you come.

But you’re cock-drunk and boneless under him, so you take what he gives you with a pained, longing moan. No more pushing back against him, no more pleading. You just lie there and take it, and there’s maybe some saliva dripping out of the corner of your slack mouth. Yikes - hopefully, he doesn’t notice.

Dream can tell you’ve just about hit your limit. “Can I come inside you, sweet girl? Do you want me to?” You probably should’ve asked him about that before you started throwing down; maybe gotten out a condom or checked to see if he was clean.

But you’re on birth control, and really if he pulls out of you now, you think you might start crying for real. You want him to come inside you, to fill up your twitching cunt until he spills out of your spent body. Like. That’s hot as fuck. Suddenly, you need it as badly as you need to come.

“Yes, fuck, please.”

Dream begins fucking you in earnest again, and his fingers never let up between your legs. “Then I need you to come one more time. Do it for me.”

“I- I can’t-“

It’s just out of reach. Even though his cock feels incredible in you, even though your legs are quivering and tears run down your face from the pleasure he forces through your body, you can’t quite come. It’s driving you insane.

You get to the point where you stop making any noise at all, so twisted up in the sensations rushing through you that you don’t have the strength to do anything else besides tremble around him.

And then Dream tips you right over into it with a single, soft sentence, murmured into your ear. “I know you can.”

You come with a choked sound, blood rushing in your ears as you spill over around his dick. He rides you through it, fucking you through this orgasm that’s brutally wrecking you, that’s washed you clean of anything other than feeling Dream deep inside your quaking pussy.

He pounds into you once, then twice, before coming from the sensation of you fluttering around him. You feel his warmth fill you up inside, slick and silky. His cum spills a bit from your spent core when Dream finally pulls out.

He’s shaking, too, as he draws you into a tender embrace. You curl up into him on your side, body aching after it all. “You’re good at that. Like, really good.”

Dream smiles into your shoulder, where he has started pressing fond butterfly kisses into your sweaty, flushed skin. “And you are very good. You were very, very good for me, my dear.” You like being good for him. You have a praise kink in general, but being good for Dream somehow feels better, more meaningful, more special.

Just when you open your mouth to ask if he has any plans for the rest of the evening, he cuts you off with a voice undercut by regret and longing. “I cannot stay, unfortunately. My apologies; I don’t wish to leave you here so suddenly. But I have… to go.”

Oh.

You swallow down the quick flash of sadness.

You’re always a bit emotional after sex, and you like cuddling, but Dream doesn’t owe you any of that. He’s been nothing but polite and considerate, and you’ve just met him tonight. Even if you want him to stay, there’s no reason he should.

You know that the sadness and accompanying feelings of loss and inadequacy will soon build into something more substantial, messed up, and all-encompassing. And you’d rather not have Dream around when the dam breaks. He doesn’t have to do anything, and you have no right to make demands on his time.

You should get his phone number or something. But your phone is somewhere in the living room where you dropped your purse, and you really don’t feel like getting up.

Already your body is starting to crash now that the endorphins are gone, and you realize just how exhausted you are. A stroke of genius comes to mind. “It’s all good, don’t worry about it. You’ll leave your number for me? On the notepad by the door?”

“I- yes, I‘ll do that.” He looks at you for a long moment as if he wishes he could stay longer. Dream’s genuine remorse softens your heart. He’s a good guy, and it’s unfortunate that your time together had to be so short.

“I’ll see you around then,” You murmur quietly, asleep before you get to see him out.

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