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beautifulfuckup99 · 9 months

Note

A Yoongi smut where he is very cold and rude but head over heels for her

Im getting addicted to your stories btw🥹

OMG, thank you so much! Love ya!

Title: Only for you

Warning(s): Classic "Black cat/Golden Retriever" Energy, Curs!ng, D!rty Talk, Bathroom S!x, Creamp!e, Oral, and Fluff

Author's Note: "Hates everyone but you" trope is my absolute FAV! Hope you enjoy, and also this is a "Non-Idol!AU"!

************************************

"No."

"Yoongi-"

"No. No!"

"Baby, please! It's just-"

"No, no, no! Nope! Nah! No!"

You sigh deeply and move to straddle your boyfriend's lap as he shakes his head continuously. "Y/N. Don't." He warns and you smirk at him, knowing you'd get your way eventually. It was cute how he always tried to 'put his foot down' though.

"Baby... Focus on the set." You say calmly as you place his hands on your new lingerie set you'd gone out to buy just today. You knew you'd need the big guns for tonight. Black silk barely covered your body that was freshly washed, shaved, and lathered in vanilla lotion.

"Y/N, that's not fair!" He argues as he grips the fabric of your boy shorts in his hands.

"It's a night out, to a nice lounge, to celebrate my co-worker's birthday." You justify. Yoongi had no real desire to always go out and party. If he was forced into it, he'd have to get drunk. That's how he became more sociable and friendly. But other than that, he didn't have the patience for a night out. Or a day out. Or... Well, if it involved other people, let's just say Yoongi wasn't interested.

You knew getting him out would be hard. Especially right now. He couldn't drink thanks to his pain medication the doctors just put him on due to the cold air hurting his prier shoulder injury. You knew tonight, he'd have no real vice to hold on to. Besides you, that is.

"Can't we just... Wish her happy birthday over the phone? I mean, YOU don't even like her!" Yoongi mutters and you snort, moving to kiss along your boyfriend's neck.

"Y/N... I'm serious..." He grumbles as you lay him back, smiling at him innocently. "Don't 'sex brain' me. I'm not going." He says flatly and you hum as you kiss down his body slowly.

"Sex brain?! I'd do..." *kiss* "No..." *kiss* "Such..." *kiss* "Thing..." You mutter between kisses as you get to the waistband of his sweats.

"It's all cold out there, and the snow is mushy, and the lounge is gonna be packed, and I don't even li... Like... Oh..." Yoongi breathes out as you start to softly kiss the outline of his dick through his sweatpants.

"Go ahead, baby. You can complain..." You whisper patiently before rubbing the slowly swelling outline.

"Fuck..." He breathes out and groans. "Y/N, that's not... Fair." He huffs as you slowly pull out his cock and kiss the tip sweetly, as if greeting the thick member. It was your best friend after all...

"We'll give it a few hours, and then we'll say our goodbyes and head out." You say gently as you stroke your hand slowly up and down his shaft.

"I hate your coworkers..." He groans and you smirk at that. Yoongi wasn't judgmental by any means. But your fellow coworkers... They really didn't like his style, or his job, or his opinions and viewpoints... Actually, they didn't like Yoongi in general. You two really were from different worlds and you knew the world you came from was full of stuck-up rich people who only ever saw Yoongi for where he came from.

"Just think about it like this..." You begin before softly licking up his cock, watching the tip twitch. "You get to see that new red dress on me tonight, if you just agree to come." You mumble before swirling your tongue along the tip as he moans.

"Fuck, Y/N..." He moans as his hips buck up slightly, trying to feel your mouth more. It makes you moan around his tip, which in turn, makes him gasp happily. "O-Ok, ok. Just... Suck my cock, baby..." He pants, needing this. You smile and move your hand upwards along his cock, doing a twisting motion.

"And you'll try and be nice...?" You taunt, watching in amusement as he nods fast.

"Ye... Yes!" He pants hotly, hand moving to grip your hair. You smirk and get right to work...

*****************************************

"You said you'd be nice." You hiss in Yoongi's ear. He grumbles a bit in response, and you snort at the sound. "I agreed to try." He corrects in your ear, and you snicker before going back to the conversation the table was having about this week and the bad weather.

"What are you two whispering about over there?" A male coworker jokingly asks.

"Oh, you know Y/N is Yoongi's little mouthpiece." Another jokes and Yoongi stares them down till they stop their laughing. You facepalm slightly. He always had this dark, icy glare. Like a shark...

"So, uh... Yoongi," Another coworker speaks up, eyeing his leather jacket with a fake smile on her face as if she wasn't judging his outfit right now. "How's your little... Business going?" She asks with a soft laugh. Yoongi scrunches his nose at the question, eyeing her in an annoyed fashion.

"Oh, things are going great! Just had a deal close the other day, he's doing great things." You say fast in order to clear up the tension before Yoongi really comes out of his mouth with an attitude. You were actually surprised he hasn't already.

"God, do you ever talk?" Another coworker tries joking and Yoongi finally speaks up.

"Do you ever shut up? You should try it sometime, maybe it'll help lessen my headache." He says bluntly and then fake laughs. You cover your mouth as to not laugh at the shocked look on your coworker's face.

"Please, excuse us!" You say fast and get up, grabbing Yoongi and dragging him off with you. You lead him towards the bathroom and playfully hit his arm.

"I said be nice!" You say and he hums as he eyes you.

"You said try." He defends and you rub your face tiredly before you feel your boyfriend pull you into his arms. You playfully grumble and let him kiss the side of your face and down your neck lightly.

"You're such a pain..." You mutter and pull back to eye your boyfriend. He looked absolutely delicious tonight. "How the hell can I get you to behave?" You whisper and he eyes you with a smirk playing on his lips.

"I can make a suggestion..." He says and you hum.

"Reading your mind as we speak..." You tease and pull at his arm, dragging him off to the ladies bathroom.

The second you realize the coast is clear, Yoongi's already grabbing you and pulling you to the sinks. You laugh at his eagerness. "No way you're still horny..." You mutter against his lips as he kisses you hungrily.

"Blame it on this fucking dress." He grumbles and you snicker proudly, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"We're gonna have to hurry. Can't keep 'em waiting forever." You whisper.

"Fuck them..." Yoongi mutters with a snort before focusing on your neck. You shut your eyes and hum in enjoyment till you feel him bite your neck.

"Yoongi! No hickeys!" You pant.

"What? Don't want them knowing what we snuck off to do? Hm? Too bad. I want all those stuck-up assholes to know their fancy titles and big watches mean shit. Because you'd still rather fuck me." He smirks and his proud smirk makes you laugh.

"Oh? Makes you feel like you won the big dick having contest?" You joke and he presses against you.

"I don't know. You tell me..." He whispers cockily and you playfully mush his face.

"Don't talk my ear off. Hurry up." You giggle and grab the back of his neck to pull his lips to yours, kissing him deeply and passionately. He kisses back with the same heat. His hands reach under your dress for your underwear, and you shiver at the coldness of his hands.

"Wanna warm them up?" He whispers against your lips before sliding his fingers along your inner thighs.

"Fuck..." You gasp softly and your head goes back against the mirror as he slides two fingers between your folds. "Mm... Yoongi..." You gasp and he bites your collarbone as he strokes your clit.

"Please. I need it..." You pant out as if suffocated by your own desire. He pulls his fingers away and sucks them clean, much to your bashful delight. You're quick to undo his belt and the second his cock is free; your legs are spreading.

"Ha. I've trained you well..." He jokes and kisses you deeply as your legs tug him by the hips so he can slide into you already. "Fucking eager..." He taunts and slides into you. "Fuck. You were made for me..." He groans happily and you lean back to look at him with soft eyes.

"How romantic..." You tease as he bottoms out inside of you. You moan as your head rolls back.

"So fucking pretty." He whispers as he watches you closely. You grab his face.

"You can be romantic with me after you finish fucking me." You pant as you grab him in need. You core felt on fire.

"Yes, ma'am..." He whispers and gives in to you. He fucks you a bit faster as you yank off his leather jacket to feel more of him. His hands grip your hips tight to hold you in place and your hands grip the sides of the sink so you can hold your legs open. His hands go to the back of your knees to hold your legs up and wide apart.

"Yes! Oh fuck!" You moan out as your head presses against the mirror more.

"Why so loud? Because no one can hear you." He taunts in your ear, and you shiver at the thought.

"Give me more. Please..." You pant. You never knew what you were begging for exactly, but Yoongi somehow gave you what you needed every time. He angels his hips to find your spot as his thumb goes to your clit. "Baby!" You cry out as you grip his arms, always careful of holding him and he was always grateful of that...

He kisses you sloppily and pumps in and out of you, enjoying your own private world for a moment until there's a knock on the bathroom door. You're quick to cover Yoongi's mouth.

"Y-Yes?" You call as calmly as you can.

"Y/N? That you?" One of your male co-workers, Timothy, asks, and Yoongi laughs from behind your hand. You give him a look to stay quiet.

"Y-Yup. Yeah, it's me." You shakily call out cause Yoongi has decided now is a great time to slowly bottom out inside of you, so you feel every inch of him...

Your eyes roll back slightly at the pressure and the feel of his tip pressed firmly against your sweet spot.

"Are you okay in there? Did your little boy toy leave? We're sorry if we made you two fight." Tim says in an innocent tone that you and Yoongi knew wasn't so innocent. You knew Tim had a little workplace crush on you, but you were sure that always talking and showing off Yoongi would one day snap him out of whatever he thought was gonna happen between you two. But there was no realization coming from him anytime soon.

"Oh, no, we're-" You're stopped from your sentence by Yoongi sliding out and the hitting your sweet spot with the right amount of force.

"Perfect!" You call out in pure pleasure before swatting at his arm.

"Are you sure you're okay in there, Y/N?" Tim asks as Yoongi moves to your ear while fucking you hard and fast.

"Yeah, are you okay in here, Y/N?" He whispers in your ear, and you can barely focus on anything other than the bundle of heat in your stomach about to burst.

"Y-Ye... Yes..." You hiss out as you look Yoongi in the eyes with a 'I'm gonna kill you after this' look. It makes him smirk happily.

"Y/N?" Tim asks from the locked bathroom door as Yoongi kisses you hotly.

"Don't stop..." You whine quietly against his lips as he starts rubbing your clit.

"Cum, baby. Cum on my cock..." He nods fast and you tune out Tim effortlessly as you feel it coming.

"Yes!" You gasp and move closer to Yoongi, biting down on the cork of his neck as you cum.

"Fuck..." Yoongi moans quietly and holds you down on your cock so you're milking him. "That's a good girl..." He praises as you moan happily when you feel him fill you up. You grab him and kiss you as Tim starts knocking on the bathroom door relentlessly.

"Ugh. Stay here. I'll get rid of him and then you walk out." You whisper and Yoongi nods, pulling out of you. You wait for the shakiness to pass and, when you can feel your legs again, you get up and fix yourself before walking over to the door. You open it and poke your head out.

"Oh! You're okay. Thank god, cause I was so worried-" Tim is cut off by Yoongi walking over behind you, which makes you facepalm.

"Tim?" Yoongi asks as he makes it obvious that he's now fixing his belt on his pants.

"Uh... Yeah, man?" Tim asks, eyeing you both now wirily.

"You wanna fuck off?" Yoongi asks bluntly with the same casual expression on his face. You keep your face covered, not even wanting to look up at Tim.

"Uh... Yeah, yup, let me... Go back to the table." Tim mutters, a bitter look on his face before he storms off. You snort and turn to Yoongi, swatting at his chest.

"Would it kill you to be nice?" You ask and he pauses as if thinking.

"Mm... It just might. And then what would you do without me?" He plays along with the same smile that's only meant for you. You blush and nudge him lightly.

"Let's go. Before you fight someone else." You chuckle and grab his hand, pulling him off towards the table to get your stuff and run off back home.

#bts #bts army #bts fic #bts imagine #bts suga #min yoogni #suga imagine #suga x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi #suga

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sircarebearalot · 21 days

Text

Guys I need help for a fic

If anyone knows:

- for how long did Corrupted!Carmen operate for VILE!

- what specific heists she pulled

- how old she was at the time (and how old Jules was)

In case anyone is curious (or interested in being a beta!!! Dm me!!) I’m writing a fic exploring that Carmen in canon divergent setting where she stalks a blue coat (Julia) to her home and discovers that the woman knows her and is quite clever

Then, over the time leading up to the eye of Vishnu, she steadily becomes more obsessed.

Here are my notes:

Very messy,, sorry 😣

Okay, let me walk you through the ideas/outline!!! (this is kind of for me bc i perform better with a 'audience')

OVERALL: brainwashed carmen falls in love with julia

NOTES ON CORRUPTED!!CARMEN:

Driven by emotion

Quick to react

Everything she feels is distorted to suit power and her warped mind. So what she feels towards Jules before resurfaces harshly but all wrong.

(She's gonna be very yandere!!!)

So our Carmen respected Jules, but now she feels the respect and it's all twisted so she's thinking shit like— she’s my only equal, or at least, she's the only one anyone near my level

And our Carmen admired Jules, a similar tone, but it takes on a more fascinated in a mechanical sense. Like Jules is some kind of unique specimen. Carmen is thinking, She's different from other. She's made for me.

And our Carmen, for the purposes of the fic, was in love with Jules. Or at least, damn near close to it. Maybe she was even just really really fond, to be more canon compliant. So, that affection morphs and is put through the most toxic extreme. Corrupted!!Carmen is so goddamn possesive. Really caveman (she is mine grrr) and 'VERONICA OPEN THE DOOR PLEASE VERONICA OPEN THE DOOR', like, that bad.

And ofc our Carmen was intrigued by Julia. loved her facts and passion and paid her close attention. Corrupted!!Carmen has no chill and she is like, obsessed. Like yandere obsessed. Like, watches her sleep and takes scans of her internal health constantly to make sure she's healthy. It's freaky, i'm trying to emphasize.

And, she's gonna hunt Julia down bc just like her father, the lone wolf, she does as she pleases and she leaves often to be with her booboo. (Unlike, dexter, the faculty are secure in her mind wipe to be concerned)

So... I described her to you!! Now, let me show you some ROUGH snippets I had as concept bits but I might actually include.

If you rather drop it here and hang around for the actual fic, this is our stop!! this is more for a potential beta and well, me :D. but if ur invested pls stick around

This fic will have:

toxic behavior from Carmen obv (she's like mind fucked)

it's not gonna be romantic

NO SEX

pov alterations

(S4E7) Moment of Canon Divergence

Carmen knew she was being followed.

She looks down, from her vantage on the building to see a higher up blue coat turn to her. Then, to Carmen’s astonishment, a soft smile blooms on the woman's face.

Carmen waits for the officer to show interest in attack, and when she doesn’t— she leaves.

As protocol demands.

Snippet #1: (beginning? sort of a little after carmen confronts julia in her home and is now picking her apart for answers)

"Don't act like you haven't been watching me, Jules."

Julia tucks her chin into her scarf, hiding her face... hiding her grimace. When her Carmen had coined that nickname it felt like some of the cavernous distance between them had been bridged. A play at familiarity. Now, the nickname felt a bit cheap. Like this Carmen was looking for leverage, a way to manipulate her for secrets.

Snippet #2: (just to incorporate other characters)

Graham's gaze flickers from Carmen, to Julia, and to Carmen's vice-like grip on her wrist.

He opens his mouth to say something, protest maybe, but Carmen beats him to it. Within seconds she pins Graham to the wall, speaking to him under her breath harshly.

He looks nearly gray when he moves out of her reach and stumbled backwards, away.

Snippet #3:

"Do you get it? VILE cannot know about you. Do you understand me? Forget ACME. Forget VILE. You only need to think of me."

Julia was grateful that Carmen did not look desperate or upset. No, like always Carmen's gaze was steely and unflinching. It helped. On the odd ocassion before, when Julia had let herself think of Carmen in that light, she had always picked her soft and sweet. Julia doesn't think she was wrong to think so. After all, this isn't the Carmen Julia had cared for.

This Carmen was a stranger. A dangerous one.

"I need a job, Carmen."

"You don't. I'll handle it all."

This would make communicating with ACME infinitely harder, with her constantly operating under Carmen's nose. But not impossible, and that was enough for now.

"What about my interests? If I don't do something I'll go mad."

Carmen crosses her arms. "What do you want?"

"My academic career."

"No."

Julia blinks, taken aback.

"Too many people. Too many factors. No way."

Julia fights back the urge to cry, or scream. Instead, she says, "Then my blog. My academic blog.*" She fights back a sob, or a snarl. "Please. I need it."

Looking incredibly agitated, Carmen bites out, "Fine."

"Thank you," Julia whispers, surprised and sickened by how much she means it. "Thank you, Carmen. This means so much to me. It makes me so happy."

Carmen's gaze darkens, eyes going nebulous. Insistently, she says, “I only need you, Jules. You’re the only one that understands me.”

Ironic because Julia had always felt that Carmen was more a mystery than a person. Julia forces a smile on her face as a compromise.

"I wish I understood you better."

Carmen knows the smile is forced. They both know. But the smile was Julia's compliance and that is all Carmen wants now.

"I wish you only needed me. Like I do you."

Julia's smile went somewhat shakier when she says, "I'm sure it's only a manner of time."

The way Julia said it... it nearly sounded like a guarantee.

Carmen forces herself into Julia's arms and tucks her face into the crook of Julia's neck.

Julia suppressed her shudder.

"Let's see how patient I am, hmm?" **

Snippet #4: (dialogue heavy-- needs heavy editing--, near the end... this is part of Julia's plot to manipulate CArmen into ACME to be fixed by the mind machine)

Julia is far too used to Carmen parking herself in the armchair besides Julia's bed to watch her sleep. Carmen's gaze on her is alert and hungry, waiting for any discrepancy.

“Carmen,” Julia murmurs, sitting up slowly. Allowing Carmen to track the movements. Julia takes the glass of water at her bed stand and peers into the clear liquid. After a long moment, she finally asks, “Carmen, would you kill for me?”

“Just say the word.”

The response had not an iota of hesitation. Julia had expected as much. She powers forward, watching Carmen's even breathing.

“Would you die for me?”

“I’d die with you. I’d kill to avenge you. It seems sort of useless to die for you, though. You’d live, yes, but then I wouldn’t be there to appreciate you. Someone else might… " Carmen goes tense, and Julia ducks her head. "Jules.”

Gaze carefully on her glass, Jules says “Yes?”

“Jules, would you let someone else replace me at your side?“

Carmen's voice is sharper and harder than the diamonds she steals so often.

“No," Julia says, well-rehearsed. "Of course not. How could anyone compare to you? No one knows me better than you. No one ever will.”

“Alright,” Carmen says, not believing her but not disbelieving her either. (Because a part of Julia means it. Maybe. In a twisted sort of way. No one will ever pay her such close attention--as unnerving and frightening as it is-- and no one will ever know her as well.) "Good. If someone else had you... I'd have to kill them."

She says it casually, easily, like it's a fact. It is but Julia knows the look in Carmen's eye, the watching look. Like she's waiting for Julia to react negatively. Like she's searching for resistance.

Julia doesn't give a reaction, and instead asks, “What about me then? If I died?”

Another immediate response:

“I'd burn the world down to avenge you. Everything.”

Julia snorts. "Everything but VILE."

Carmen hesitates, then says, almost more to herself, "Even then..."

Julia ignored “But what of natural causes then?“

“I don’t believe in coincidence," Carmen says dismissively, relaxing quickly. She must consider this as pleasurable, as a game of hypotheticals. As if Julia was finally leaning into Carmen's brand of affection. "There’s always someone responsible. An authority to blame.”

“What about cancer then?“ Julia asks cassually.

Carmen chuckles, amused. “You don’t have cancer, Jules. I checked last night. You're such a worrier.”

The fondness was nearly authentic and that... That is far more terrifying than anything else Carmen has ever pulled.

“I’m asking hypothetically.”

“Well, then I’d kill the doctor for failing you.”

“Even if there’s nothing that can be done?”

“Yes.”

She swallows. “What if it’s my own fault then? What if my incompetence brought upon my own death?”

Carmen’s gaze hardened, looking more suspicious. “You mean suicide?"

"No," Julia says quickly, careful not to upset Carmen. "No. Not that. But, say I slipped and fell down the stairs. Something anti-climatic. Something completely my fault."

"If that's all it takes then you are not my equal," Carmen says evenly. "Then you're not the Jules I want.”

Relief sweeps through Julia like a tidal wave. She beams at Carmen.

Carmen's eyebrows shoot up. "Did I answer right?"

"I have one more scenario for you." Julia raises the glass to her mouth and drinks, faking confidence. The cup clatters on the bedside table as she sets it down, betraying her nerves. "After this, I'll be sure of this."

Carmen rolls her shoulders back, like this is all a game. Even her gaze is competitive, a mean gleam shining.

“Carmen.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so patient with me,” Julia exhales.

Carmen softens. “That’s because you are my one and only.”

“Then you must save me, right?”

Julia grins again. This time her teeth are a bit bloodied. Carmen freezes, gaze like darts.

“What do you mean? Are you endangered?”

For the first time, Carmen looks hesitant to touch her.

“Six hours ago," Julia narrarrated. "I swallowed a pill… a very potent poison once activated. I… I just activated it. The antidote can only be found in the ACME headquarters, in their lab." Betrayal flashes in Carmen's eyes and Julia hurries to finish her sentence, before the toxins render her useless. "I have two hours, if I’m lucky, before there is irreversible damage to my vital organs.”

Carmen was apoplectic. "Julia."

“Prove it to me, Carmen. Prove to me that you love me.”

Now Carmen grabs at her, taking the collar of Julia's sleep shirt and shaking her. Now, Julia's body was limp and she flopped in Carmen's grip.

"You doubt me still? You are the cruel one. I'll prove it to you. I'll save you this once, and then, then you will spend a lifetime making it up to me. Understand?"

"G't it."

Notes:

the *, the blog is gonna be how Julia gets in contact with Player and how they devise a plan (he like starts a 'rival' blog that they 'banter' through)

the **, Carmen ends up being endlessly patient. bc her feelings are too obssessove, she doesn't really need Julia to love her back as she just needs Julia around. Also, the don't even kiss or hold hands. Its really just a lot of one-sided hugs, holdings, and face cradlings (except for when julia is trying to manipulate carmen, whcih carmen lets happen bc she liked the touch)

#carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego #carmen sandeigo 2019 #carulia #julia argent #evil carmen sandiego #ao3 author #do it for the fic

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boygiwrites · 8 months

Text

Harley D. Dixon 5

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. This is our CDC chapter, so TW for mention of suicide in this one. It's a little graphic.

And it might be better to go in blind, but if you'd like the second TW, please check the first tag on this post.

Other than that, please enjoy reading!

Glenn exhales, "Would you look at that?"

The sun is rising.

Last night I was a dying dog and today I am Harley Dixon.

Me, Dad and Glenn are on the roof of the parked RV, watching the sky give birth to the sun, knowing that I got hundreds more sunrises waiting for me; that the worst is over, like Rick said. The morning is as fresh as peeled summer fruit, and it's all ours. I'm reminded of special breakfasts on our old porch, where my Uncle Merle and my Dad would be scooping burnt scrambled eggs into their mouths, and I'd be in Dad's lap, sipping on a box of orange juice. We had them whenever I won an award at school. I feel like I've won every award in the world.

Glenn is the one sitting next to us, now, in this new version of day-break. He fills the outline of where a ghost of a brother and an Uncle used to be. We're sharing a secret bag of old freeze-dried cherries, while everyone else sleeps. They're a small luxury, like the sun. We can make happiness out of anything.

It all feels right.

"One hundred percent mold free, this time. I swear," Glenn says, ripping the bag open and pouring me the first cherries.

"They better be," Dad jokes. "First time was free."

"Next time, you'll beat my ass?" Glenn guesses.

He looks like he's realizing his legacy is always gonna be the guy who can't make jerky.

"Damn straight."

We knock our plastic bowls together, smiling.

"To Harley."

"To me!"

"What a mess this whole thing was." Glenn shakes his head, chewing. "I know I already said it, but... I'm really sorry."

"Ain't your fault you can't cook." I giggle.

"Gee, thanks." He laughs. "I guess I deserve that."

"Just learn to salt the damn meat, China." Dad says. "Then we can talk."

"Okay, okay, okay." Glenn puts his hands up, but he's still grinning. "I suck at cooking. I get it. Are Dixons always this mean?"

Me and my Daddy answer, yes, at the same time.

"Good to know." Mumbles Glenn.

"The night I got scratched," I muse, my fingers painted with crayon-red cherry juice. "You was the first person after my Dad to reach the tent."

I remember people saying that Glenn could outrun a cheetah if there were enough supplies behind the finish line. The thought makes me laugh again. When you ain't big, you gotta find other ways to elbow your way through danger. Sometimes a good brain and better legs are all you need. Sometimes people like me and Glenn get to win, too.

"I guess so." Glenn's smiling shyly. "But only because Rick was too busy reloading. And Shane was up the back. And, well, I guess— When we first got back to camp, people were saying that you were gone. That you were missing, or dead, or— We didn't know. Your Dad, he just took off into the woods. Just, vroom, y'know? Like, gone. I thought if I was gonna be like anyone, it should be him. So, I went running, too."

Dad leans over and grips Glenn's shoulder; shakes it. A gesture that says, Man to man, I respect you. Maybe even, Brother to brother.

It takes a lot to earn my Dad's respect, if you ain't his blood.

"You all looked like you was boutta faint." I snicker, 'cause it's funny now.

"W-we all thought it was too late." Glenn tries to laugh. It's been hard, I guess, bottling up that night until now. "When we first saw the tent."

I see flashes of wet eyes, and teeth, and spiders.

"I did too," I confess.

My Dad turns me around in his lap, then, and bounces his knee a little. "But I woulda never let that happen, chicken, y'hear? And I ain't never gonna let that happen. I'd have to be dead, 'fore a walker laid his hands on you." He frowns, looking me dead in the eye.

"I hear." I nod. "It was just really scary."

"C'mere, babe."

He pulls me down to his chest — his heart — and I curl up there, where I know nothin' will ever get me.

"For the record, I was about to faint." Glenn mutters.

I throw a cherry at him and he dodges it, grinning.

"I knew it!"

We all sit like this for a long while, with the sun and the rustling wheat as our friends, snacking on our sour fruit. Then they start talking again, a notch deeper, a notch outta my league. Adult to adult. I realize they must think I'm asleep — It is the ass-crack of dawn, after all — so I don't interrupt.

"I didn't mean it like that, you know." Glenn tells my Dad. "You can protect your own. I get that."

"Don't tell me what I already know, kid."

"I just..." Glenn starts, but then there's nothing.

In this long moment, I think Glenn is going to leave down the ladder, 'cause it's what anyone else would do.

People like me and my Dad — People who hoard supermarket coupons, and talk real nasty, and get called hillbillies — don't mix well with people like Glenn. People pretend there isn't, but there's an invisible cut-off on who deserves what in life, and it ends right after people who only gotta work one job. Glenn's smart, and he prolly ain't never had to go hungry to pay his water bills, not once in his life. He prolly ain't never been to jail, or snapped a squirrel's neck, or re-used the same bottle of hand soap forty times over. He's like the rest of 'em. Rick and Lori. Shane. The kids in my old classes. Their parents on parent-night. We can work well together but anything else is askin' too much.

But we're family now, right? I think Glenn might leave, but—

"Well, for what it's worth, I couldn't do it." Is all Glenn says.

He doesn't leave. In fact, I hear him settling further into his chair. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

My Dad pauses. "Do what?"

"Look over my shoulder all the time. Worry about someone else every time I hear a gunshot. Walk around knowing I have that much to lose." Glenn sounds lost in thought, but then he surfaces. He ends his list with a simple, "Be a parent."

My Dad sighs, debating whether or not to go along with this.

"That ain't all there is to it." He eventually says.

"No?"

"Nah. It ain't some curse." Dad says. "I hear a gunshot? Sure, first thing I'm thinkin' 'bout is Harley. But that's the way it's meant to be."

"I just don't think I'd be able to handle it." I imagine Glenn gazing out at the sky. "These past few days have been stressful enough."

"Yeah, well that's why I got a kid 'n you don't." Dad's being a bit of a smart-ass. Then, he answers seriously. "You got a kid? You gotta be ready to die for 'em. But it ain't just sittin' around, waitin' to do it. It's the opposite. Every day I wake up, and I do it for her. I do everythin' I do for her. After that baby's born, who you were, what you liked doin', any plans you had — That's over. Suddenly, yer life ain't the most important thing you got, no more."

I've never heard my Dad talk like this. I wish our lives were worth the same, but I guess it don't work that way.

"And who were you?" Glenn asks, knocking back a cherry. "Before Harley?"

"A nobody. Drunk bastard with drunk-bastard friends." Dad scoffs.

"Well... That's good, then?" Glenn's guessing. "Sounds like she changed you for the better, man."

I can't imagine my Dad being anybody other than my Dad. The day I came into the world, so did he. There's nothin' before that.

"It's hard." Dad admits, prolly for the first time ever, to Glenn. "I love 'er, but it's hard as shit. Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out."

"You must have been going crazy during... everything."

"Oh, you think?" Dad jokes. "You ain't seen me fuck up that walkie?"

Glenn bursts out laughing. "It hit the RV when you threw it out the window. Scared the shit out of Dale."

I have to try really hard not to laugh. I'm meant to be pretend-asleep!

"You got any nieces, or anythin'?" Dad asks.

"No." Glenn answers. "My sisters were either too interested in their careers to have kids, or... Too young."

Glenn's sisters aren't here. Blood does everything it can to stay together. Dad taught me that. That means his sisters are both young and dead.

"That's gotta be tough, man." Dad sighs.

"No, it's alright. Sometimes I can pretend they're out there, together. Happy." He pauses. "What about you? Nieces? Nephews?"

Dad actually laughs a little. "Fuck no. Not from my side, at least. Guy like my brother ain't meant to spread his seed around. Ain't right."

Glenn starts laughing, too. "I guess not."

"Nah, Harley's my only girl." My Dad says. I feel him start playing with the end of my ponytail.

"You know, when you first showed up in camp, I thought she was Merle's." Glenn says, then quickly, "No offence."

"No shit?" Dad scoffs.

"No shit. I thought you looked too young to have a kid."

An unspoken joke makes them both laugh all over again.

"Yeah, well, I was real busy in my teen years."

I got no idea what that means, but it must be funny. Their conversation tapers from chuckling into a warm silence, and then it's just us and the sun again. It clips over a candy-colored cloud, and I can hear car doors opening and shutting, and loud yawns from down below. We're gonna be on the road again soon. I might not need a cure anymore, but we still need water, food, and walls, and the CDC's got it all. I hear someone shouting, alright, people, time to start heading out, and then a whole bunch of shuffling. The day isn't just ours, anymore.

My Dad stretches, groaning, and I pretend to be woken up by it.

He pinches my cheek. "Look who's here."

"Hey, Harley." Glenn smiles, packing up. "You enjoy the cherries?"

"Uh-huh," I smile back. "Thank you."

"No problem." He says. "There's actually some left over, if you want it."

He holds out the bag while I dig my hand into it.

I think it's funny how me, the man who made me, and the man who almost killed me are all friends, now. I learnt in science class that the more pressure you put on a rock, the more compact the molecules get. I think we're the molecules. It's bittersweet.

"Not too many." Dad warns. "You're still sick, remember? Don't want you messin' up my truck again."

"I remember," I promise, shoving a handful of cherries into my mouth. I also remember him sayin' he don't give a damn 'bout the truck.

Someone shouts out the radio channel again.

"Time to see this thing through, then." Rallies Glenn, but he looks nervous.

We say goodbye to the sunrise.

"Dad, is that—?"

"That's the CDC, alright."

We reach it by early morning. It's a monster of a building. It's like a big, white buoy in the middle of the ocean, saying, Come here, I'll keep you afloat. We ease to a stop and then we just look at it, 'cause it's all we can do. The CDC, right before our eyes. It's really there.

"It's bigger than I thought." I think aloud.

Dad just grunts, wary. "Stay close to me."

Our new walkie chimes, and Rick speaks to everyone when he says, "This is it, people. Leave your things. We're gonna walk up."

Why does the air feel so cold?

My Dad pulls both me and his crossbow out the truck, and then the whole group — one tired, beaten, hopeful force — are slowly making our way to the building. We walk through a silent field. I wish it could speak to us; tell us what it's been through.

We pass torn bags of sand and littered bullet shells. I think there's something here that we're not seeing, not yet, like a sleeping beast at the back of a cave, and when we find it, we're gonna be sorry we ever looked. We weave through big, black piles of clothes. The clothes are full, I realize. Full of hands, and legs; all white, all dead. They're bodies. They still have their human faces; they're still them, just dead, and they're studded with the bullets that the shells came from. The story tells itself, on behalf of the ghosts. They give their blood back to mother nature, dripping into the grass. I gasp. From head to toe, I go cold. My Dad shields my face, but I've already seen 'em. They're already nightmares.

Rick leads us. He leads us past trucks and barriers and blockades. Every sign the universe gives him to turn back, he ploughs through, chin up.

Maybe he's brave. Maybe he's stupid. Maybe he was designed to be both. Maybe we're walking to our deaths.

Nobody speaks. If they do, the bodies might wake up, and the graveyard we're intruding on will realize it doesn't want us here.

A crow squawks from its post on a dead soldier's helmet. If I spoke bird, I'd hear, Turn back.

We have to do this. It's what everyone's thinking, as they manage one foot in front of the other. Just one more step, and after that, just one more step. I take in the group, 'cause they ain't dead, and it's a little less awful to look at.

Morales, rifle up. Eliza, Louis and Sophia, three baby ducklings under their Mommas' shaking wings. Dale and Shane, polar opposites but in this moment, exactly the same; with their steely gaze and steady hands. Jacqui and Andrea, holding hands; two girls in women's bodies, walking through a world that wants to eat them. I catch Carl's eye. He catches mine, over the violence spread out before us. I watch him send me a thumbs up, which does nothing but turn me colder — colder than ice, colder than I've ever been — before my view is blocked for a second time, by Glenn. I'm sandwiched in; hidden, protected. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope I'll get to open them again. My Dad leads me by the shirt over the grass. I trust him.

My shoes hit something tougher, louder — Cement. Rock? Our footsteps echo, now. Are we really in a cave?

It goes double-dark, through my eyelids. Please don't leave us, I beg the sun nicely, We need you.

I squeeze my Dad's hand. He squeezes back.

Then I hear a rumble, like thunder, and I peek out from behind my Dad. It's Rick, banging on roller shutters. We all clench closer together, a fist ready to fight. Nobody does it on purpose, but me and all the other kids are pushed toward the middle. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Rick goes from one door to another to another, until he's shook down the entire row.

Guns are raised. We step back, together.

It's like knockin' on doors on Halloween. We don't know what creature's gonna answer. Maybe nobody.

"Anybody home?" Glenn mutters.

We stretch our silence for as long as we can stand it. There is no answer.

Newly determined, or maybe offended, or scared, or maybe all three, Rick beats down all the doors again like he hates 'em.

"Hey!" He calls out. "Whoever's in there, open up!"

"Nobody's here, man!" T-Dog shakes his head, but he ain't got no proof.

"Then tell me why you think all the damn shutters are down?" Rick snarls, and it's like we're in the parking lot again, and I'm scared.

And I should be.

"Walkers incoming!" Shane shouts.

Suddenly, my Dad and Glenn are whirling the other way, facing our new enemy. I grab onto the back of Dad's belt, and when I peer out between their elbows, I see one, two, six, twelve dead bodies lumbering to their feet, all dressed in military green, and dented helmets, and layers and layers of crusty black blood and loose skin. The other kids start to cry, but not me. I can't cry, 'cause I can't breathe. I hear a slicing fwip, and then one of the dead soldiers drop to the ground like the only thing holding him up were strings. An arrow marks his second deathbed.

"We can't fuckin' stay here, Rick!" My Dad's yelling. "You led us into a death-trap!"

I'm grabbing onto the back of Glenn's shirt, now, 'cause my Dad's stomping off to confront Rick and Shane. I hide my nose in my knuckles. Death-trap, I'm panicking, Death-trap. A week ago, I'd be standing here alone, but I got Glenn now. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I got Glenn.

"Glenn, I'm scared." I whine to him, and there it is, I'm crying. I think of happier things, like cherries and the sun.

"I— I know." Glenn puffs, 'cause he's scared, too. "I know."

He lets me grab his hand. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

"Death trap or not, we're here for a reason!" Dale's arguing. "Rick made a call! We all did!"

"You want us to phase through the fuckin' doors, old man?" Dad spits. "We're stuck out here! My daughter's stuck out here!"

"Running out of time here, guys!" Jacqui's worrying.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Are those gunshots, now? Bullets are last resorts. Last resorts are only for when you're gonna die. Are we gonna—?

"Are we gonna die, Glenn?"

"No." He hurries to answer, gripping me tighter. "N—No."

"We need to leave!" A woman — Carol? — cries.

"She's right." Lori. That's Lori. "This close to the city? It's too dangerous!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Fort Benning." Shane looks like he's 'bout ready to bolt, bouncin' from foot to foot. A trapped animal. "We can do it. It's still an option, Rick."

"Is it?" Glenn's shouting. "It's a hundred twenty-five miles away!"

"No fuel? Two sick kids?" Morales is shakin' his head, no, no, no. "It's impossible!"

What do we do? No, no, no. We can't leave, but no, no, no, we can't stay, neither.

"What do you wanna do, then?" Shane argues back. "What you wanna do?"

"That's it! We're done here!"

My Dad shuts the whole thing down with one angry shout, locking his hand around my wrist. He tugs me away, and for a moment, the group is tugging itself along behind us, back to the street and the cars. We're a unit again — in the wind, goin' anywhere; scared, flimsy. We take one step, and then two, and we make it all the way back to the grass, before—

"Wait!"

It's Rick.

He ain't budged. Brave or stupid? Is he nuts?

"The camera." He tells us, breathless. "It moved."

All three.

"You imagined it." Dale decides, 'cause he'll say anything to get Rick to move. "How could it have moved?"

It's a lost cause — a last-ditch attempt.

The arguing re-ignites. I hide myself again, 'cause I'd rather be anywhere else.

Rick's shouting that he saw it, he saw the camera move, and his voice hits the concrete and closes in on us, just like the field. Fwip. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each burst of noise is a ticking hand on a dyin' clock. The bodies are picking themselves up faster than we're dropping 'em. Glenn's got a knife out, now, and Shane's pleading with Rick, who's gone nuts, Man, listen, the place is gone, it's gone, it's gone, it's gone. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Fwip. Bang. Crying; shrieking, from me, from the other kids, from Lori, and Jacqui, and the air as it's cut in half by bullet after bullet after bullet. Please, we have two sick kids out here, someone's begging.

"You're killing us!" Rick tells the camera. "You're killing us!"

My Dad fists the back of my shirt and he's pullin' me away, stronger than before. I think he's saying, Fuck it, we can make it on our own; leave the bastard. This must really be rock bottom. We were on our own for weeks. He must be thinking that we can do it again. I can see Glenn struggling to decide whether he should stay with the group or follow his feet, which are already trying to run after me and my Dad. I see Jacqui doin' it, too, and then Andrea, and then Carol.

A body topples over in our path, arrow up its nose. This is chaos.

Cherries and sunlight. Cherries and sunlight.

Then—

Behind us.

A gentle rumble, rumble.

We all whip around.

The doors — They're opening. They really are.

Even Rick looks like he can't believe it. We watch them open, mouths agape, like a bunch of idiots — A portal, to another world.

At first, we think there's a catch. Nothing comes without a catch. Do we go in?

But then there's another bang, and we're reminded that we're as good as dead if we stay out here any longer. We're on the move again, but this time, we're walking into the big, white mouth of the big, white monster, praying, Please don't be worse than it is out here, please don't make us regret this. We stay close together as the doors roll back down, sealing us in. We can breathe again, but only slightly. Would I rather take my chances with the dead soldiers, or with the unknown? I'm not sure. Now it's really happening, I don't think any of us are.

"Electricity." Jacqui whispers in cautious wonder. Electricity is like a myth.

Rick nods toward an archway. "Let's keep moving."

We trickle into the belly of the beast — Down a hallway, and into a lobby with the tallest damn ceiling I ever saw. Papers are thrown all over the floor and the computers at the reception desk are all upturned, but it's pin-drop silent. It's like being in a museum for an old extinction event.

"Hello?" Rick calls out, and if there's a scary creature in here, I sure hope it eats him first. "Who's in here? Who opened the doors?"

The silence answers.

"I did."

I jump outta my skin. Dad gets himself in front of me, but I peek around his waist. There's a man at the top of the stairs. He looks like he's been here for a long, long time. Like those lonely boys in Lord of the Flies, where they'd been on an island for so long that they started going a little crazy. He's wearing a regular t-shirt. I wonder where his lab coat is, if he's a scientist. This is a building for scientists.

"What did you mean by 'sick'?" The lonely-crazy-man calls down to us. "You said you had two sick kids. Is anybody infected?"

The whole group hardens at this question. They all glance back at me. I can see our journey in their eyes.

Rick's smiling, and this time, it looks right.

"You don't know the half of it." He turns back around, chin up, like always. "No. Nobody's infected. Thank God."

Dad puts a hand my shoulder.

The scientist doesn't share the same enthusiasm.

"I'm not sure He's around, anymore." He muses, vaguely sad. Then, "Why are you here? What do you want?"

I've never been good at words, but Rick is, 'cause he comes up with the perfect answer. One he knows we'd all agree on.

"A chance."

And maybe some water. After all we been through, that can't be too much to ask. We must look like a pathetic, begging mess, 'cause that's what we are. I know I am. My hair's made outta knots and grease, just like Lori and Andrea's. We're covered in beatings from the road, like bruises from Jim's fists and eyebags from sleepless nights. We left our quarry for this. We left our fish, and our tyre swing, and we left Jim. This can't be for nothing.

The man, who stands high above us, a judging eye, takes us in. "That's asking an awful lot, these days."

All Rick can say is, "I know," and pray it works.

I think of wet eyes, teeth, and spiders while we wait for his decision.

"You'll submit to a blood test." The scientist tells us. "That's the price of admission."

A breath leaves us all.

"We can—" Rick's nodding. "We can manage that."

That's it? A blood test?

I find myself grinning, and I tug on my Dad's hand. We look at each other. He's smiling, too, just a little. We all are. The scientist doesn't know it, but he's just saved our lives. We're tired and we're dirty and we've been through Hell these past couple days, but a blood test — We can manage that. We can manage anything.

"I left one door open. If you have stuff to bring in, do it now." He says, from his perch. "Once these doors shut, they don't open."

We tell him we understand.

This place is like a magical castle.

After we give up our blood, the scientist takes us on a tour.

Jacqui was right. We got electricity. But apparently, we also got hot water.

If electricity's a myth, then hot water is a damn hoax. I can't wait to have a shower tonight. I used to hate showers, but that's just one of them things now that I can't believe I ever hated, like spinach. I been so hungry before that I'd dream about spinach. Glenn and Lori groan like they've bitten into a big, juicy steak when they hear 'bout the showers, and we all laugh. When I ask him, the scientist says that he isn't wearing his lab coat because he only wears it to make himself look cool. He says that now that we're here, he'll have to put it back on. It makes me giggle.

I run ahead with the other kids, and we all reach a long line of doors, where the scientist says we'll be staying.

The tour is complete!

We all pick rooms to stay in and then we unpack, like we're in a hotel, and it's exciting. None of us have been to a hotel in years.

"Hey, Harley!" Sophia pops her head out the next room over, holding a bar of soap. "Look! Soap!"

I hold out mine. "I got one, too!"

Behind Sophia, Carl pops his head out. "Me too!"

And behind him, like two little owls, Eliza and Louis appear. "Us, too!"

We dash back into our rooms. Me and my Dad's room got two double beds, and I ain't never had a double bed before, so I climb on it, and I jump up and down to test it out. It don't even squeak or nothin'. Dad watches me from where he's emptying one of our back packs.

As I try touch the ceiling, I tell him, "This place is awesome!"

"Harley, come down from there 'fore you crack yer head open." He orders, like a party-pooper.

I do what he says, 'cause I don't wanna ruin the day by getting spanked. "I'm gonna have a real-life shower."

"That's right." He shakes out the yellow shirt with the dinosaurs on it. He chucks it at my head, smirking. "Get ready, then."

I grab the brush that Sophia's letting me use first and a pair of purple pyjama pants from my Dad. I take myself into the bathroom. At first, the water's like straight lava on my skin, and I yelp. Dad asks if I'm alright, and then he comes in to fix the water for me. The lava settles back down, and I scrub and wash and sud myself up until I'm almost as red as a lobster. It's the best shower I've ever had. I was getting so sick of using baby wipes and river water to wash myself. When I step out of the real-life shower, the whole room is steamed up. I draw a smiley face into the mirror just 'cause I can, and then I brush out all my hair. I smell like strawberries. I dress in my cozy pyjamas and socks.

When I come out, my Dad re-does my buttons, 'cause apparently I did 'em all wrong. I stand between his knees while he re-orders 'em.

"He said there's a games room here." I smile.

"Maybe you can scope it out after dinner." Dad says. "You gotta be hungry by now, right?"

"Oh, I forgot 'bout dinner!" There's just too many wonders to keep track of in this place! "We gotta hurry!"

My Dad loops the last button.

"Come on, come on, come on!" I nag, pulling him off the bed and out the door.

"Damn." He chuckles. "People are gonna start thinkin' I ain't feedin' you."

"I bet there's gonna be steak!"

This is the best day ever.

We reach the CDC's little cafeteria, which is in total darkness to save energy, except for a spotlight above the biggest table. Makes it feel even more special. I hear clinking forks and plates, and I think these are the two happiest days I've ever had. Me and Dad take seats next to Carol and Sophia. As potato salad — Yes, potato salad. That's almost as good as soap — and greens and meat get passed around, I'm reminded of our fish fry. My Dad is here with me to enjoy it this time, and there are walls to protect us, instead of trees. We're clean. We're safe. We're alive.

"Just tell me when." Carol tells T-Dog as she pours him some wine, while everyone is getting settled in at the table.

Carol pours for a long time and T-Dog does not say when.

People start laughing.

T-Dog gives in and goes, "Okay, when, when, when."

"Thought I was gonna be there all night." Carol scoff-chuckles, sitting back down.

When I look around, I see one big family having dinner together, and I see people I'd almost forgotten about under all that dirt.

"Hey, after the past few days we've had, I think we deserve it." Rick's smiling, holding up his hands.

"I'll say." Lori snickers.

Dale suddenly stands, glass in hand. "How about we dedicate this meal to Harley?"

Rick puts down his napkin. "I think that's a perfect idea."

I giggle under all the attention as everyone rushes to agree, finding their glasses. I hide my face behind my Dad's arm. He peels himself away, smirking, and everyone's got something to say about my red face when I'm no longer hidden. I smack Carl when he tells me I look like a tomato, and everyone's doubled over with laughter, again. It's my favorite sound ever, I decide.

Before we can toast, my Dad butts in.

"Hang on. Old man, how's about that watch you carry around?" He asks. "It got a date on it?"

"I wish," Dale smiles, "But the battery died yesterday. Why? Is there something I'm missing?"

"I reckon it's almost July, right?" Dad looks around.

Is he gonna say what I think he's gonna say?

I start grinning.

Rick nods, "I reckon so. It's probably been about a month since everything went down."

"Harley was born in July. Twenty-second. Eight years ago. Ain't that right?" Dad ruffles my hair, and I giggle, 'cause I'm just so full of happiness that I feel like I'll never be anything else again. He raises his glass; wraps a hand around my shoulders. "Close enough, am I right?"

"Absolutely, that's close enough!" Lori shouts, clapping her hands; rushing for her glass. "My God, this is perfect!"

"We got ourselves a birthday dinner, here, people!" T-Dog whoops, raising his, too.

Rick lifts his glass above his head, and it's official. "To the birthday girl!"

"To the birthday girl!"

Clink, clink, clink.

More cheering. Two toasts in one day. I must be the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world. I bump my glass of water into Dad's glass on my right, and Sophia's on my left. After the scare with the scratches, this celebration means ten times more than a regular birthday would. There's no cake here, or number-candles, but I don't need any of that to make this moment special. I got Glenn singing an off-key Happy Birthday, and I got Jacqui giggling, God, shut that boy up, and I got Sophia hugging me, and I got another year and a whole lotta more days I get to live, with everyone at this table; with my Dad. And when Rick leans over the table, I even let him give me a high-five!

"Eight." Rick raises his eyebrows at me while he sits back down, pointing at me. "Almost double digits."

"You're almost my age!" Grins Carl.

"Good luck." Lori dramatically whispers to my Dad.

He gives me a look. "Listen to me, you ain't allowed to grow any more after this, okay?"

I can't help if I grow!

"Okay, Dad." I laugh. "I promise to be eight forever."

"Good girl." He says, gulping down more wine.

"Hold up." T-Dog sticks his palm out. "This is a birthday party. You know what that means, right? We need to hear at least one embarrassing story."

"Good idea." Jacqui gasps.

Dad makes a big show of scoffing. "Damn, which one you want? I got thousands."

What a traitor!

"I mean, we have all night, here." Shane shrugs, grinning like a little smart-ass. "I'm up for a story-time. How 'bout y'all?"

"Let's hear it," Morales gestures at my Dad.

"Alright." Dad sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. I try leaning over to cover his mouth, but he bats me away, and everyone is already laughing and the story ain't even started yet. "How 'bout— Okay. Okay. Damn, this is a good one. 'Bout when she was five, we bought Harley this skateboard—" Everybody's going, Oh God, 'cause they see where this is going. "Uh-huh. We took 'er down to the skatepark near our house, and there was a bunch of other lil' kids there — 'bout her age — and I'on know how she did it, but these kids were all convinced she was this master skater who was gonna show 'em how it's done. She was coachin' 'em, I think. Showin' off her new board. End of the day, she finally goes to show 'em a trick — 'Member, first day at this damn park — and everyone's watching and—" He claps his hands, smack. "Falls flat on 'er fuckin' face, in front of all of 'em."

Ugh, why'd he have to go and tell that story?

Rick covers his mouth 'cause he's trying not to laugh, 'cause I guess he values whatever dignity I got left but Shane, he's clappin' and trying not to spit his food out, 'cause he's actually a big smart-ass. I'm laughing behind my hands, like Sophia. Glenn's resting his forehead on the table, and he's shakin', so I guess he's laughing, too. When he sits upright, he's crying, and Jacqui's gotta beat his back 'cause he's choking a little bit.

"I'm alri—" He coughs. Then he keeps laughin', which makes it worse. "I'm alright."

"Hey, I ain't even fall that bad!" I defend myself.

He chugs Jacqui's water to save himself.

"Wait—" Lori's chuckling. "Five years old?"

"Yep," Dad goes back to eating. He's satisfied with the damage he's done.

"Pretty brave for that age." Lori tells me, putting on an I'm impressed face.

"Damn, that's pretty bad." T-Dog's shaking his head. "Sorry, girl, but I'm glad I asked, 'cause shit!"

"Leave the poor girl alone." Carol giggles, quietly.

Shane looks off into the darkness, pretending there's a crowd. "Anybody got a skateboard?"

"Oh, shut up." Andrea smiles. "Settle down, or Lori's gonna have to pull that photo out."

"May I ask a question?"

We're all so isolated in this pocket of happiness, celebrating the end of our troubles, that when the scientist speaks, I think we're all a little spooked. Smiles freeze and fade. Glasses lower. Heads turn. We're not the only people in the world, we're all realizing. We'd forgotten all about the reason we came here. That's what potato salad does to people, I guess.

The conversation dies off like a guillotine sliced it in half.

"What were you going to toast to?" The scientist asks, and his voice is like a soft, chilly breeze in a forest. I'm not even sure he was sitting there the whole time. Maybe he's supernatural, and he teleported. That makes me scared. "Before you figured out it was her birthday?"

And just like that, the dinner turns awkward.

Rick clears his throat. "Well, if I'm being completely honest, here, Harley is the reason we came out to the city in the first place. I know I told you that nobody here was infected, but there were a couple days where... we weren't sure. Harley got scratched. We left looking for a cure."

The scientist's eyes roam over to my face, but then they don't leave.

"Now we're on the subject," Shane decides to break the silence, frowning, "How about you tell us what exactly happened here, doc?"

Rick mutters, "We don't have to do this right now, Shane."

"Wait a second." Shane sighs. "You said it yourself, just now. This is why we came all the way out here, right? Figure out what happened? Put all our eggs in one basket, and uh—" He laughs a laugh that tells me nothing is funny here. "Instead we found him. We found one man, talking in riddles. Why is that, you think?"

The scientist tanks the insult. "When things got bad, people just... left, to be with their families. The rest bolted."

I remember just how shocked I was at the size of this building when I first saw it creeping up the windows. It's way too much space for one man. There must have been hundreds of scientists working in here, and now it's just a shell. A cave for a lonely monster.

"Every last one?" Shane whispers, squinting; disbelieving.

The scientist falters, for just a moment, and I can see old pains on his face. "No. Some couldn't face leaving. They... opted out."

The tables goes from quiet to silent. Opted out. I know what that means. It's another one of them things adults say to butter up the truth, and it means killing yourself. I squeak, then, like I've been kicked in the ribs. I hide behind my Dad, who cradles the back of my damp hair, but you can't hide from words once they're in your head. Suicide. Dead, but not an accident — On purpose, with pills, or a gun, or a— a— a bridge. Something snotty gets caught in my throat like a fish-hook, and I'm crying now, at my own birthday dinner. Somebody drops their fork in defeat.

"There was a rash of suicides." Mutters the scientist, immune to his own story; numb. "In a matter of days, I was alone."

"Why didn't you leave?" Asks Andrea.

Carl is crying too, now. I wish I could make him feel better, just for a moment, but I can't.

"I just kept working." Smiles the scientist, but it's not right— It's just muscles, pulling his droopy face upward. "I just wanted to do some good."

Good.

The word reaches up into the ceiling, and leaves us at the bottom, sitting in its echo.

"There is no cure here." The scientist says.

The dinner is over.

Everything comes crashing down as fast as it went flying up.

We were on top of the world just a few hours ago. We were invincible. We had the news that I wasn't going to die in our veins, and then we had hot water and soap and potato salad, and each other. We had hotel rooms and a birthday dinner. But now we just have a dead end and a long list of regrets. There is nothing here for us besides showers, lights, and ghosts. I feel like a trapped animal. I'm a hamster in a maze, going around and around and around, and I can't get out. A rash of suicides. That thing I thought was hiding somewhere, it's this, and it's out, and I'm sorry we ever looked. Please don't let it be worse than it is out here, I remember, Please don't make us regret this.

After what feels like hours, the hallways I'm running down end. I see the game room.

I run inside and corner myself under the table. A cloth hides me from the world outside, and if I pretend hard enough, I can take myself right out of here and into a nice, safe pillow fort, instead. Like the ones I used to make back home. I can be someone else. If I'm in my head, I'm not here.

But then I hear the door open, and it's just a wooden table again, and I'm in the CDC.

"Harley?" It's my Dad, 'cause of course it is. I moan into my hands, crying so hard I'm not getting enough air. "You in here?"

I don't want to be found. I want to be lost.

The cloth lifts.

"Baby, what's wrong?" My Dad asks, but I know he already knows. How could he not know?

There are lots of words that remind me of my Momma, like sunshine, and cigarettes, and the worst — Suicide.

"Get out." I tell him, using my feet to push him away. "Get out."

I should've learnt my lesson back at the quarry, on that night I hit my Dad, but I don't care. I just wanna hurt something. I'm hurting. A rash of suicides. I can't stop hearing it, and I can't stop seeing it — Over and over again, the night on the bridge. Opted out. Suicide. Killing yourself.

Pills, guns, ropes.

Bridges.

"Baby, I know." Dad's saying, grabbing my kicking feet. "I know. Come out. I don't want you thinkin' 'bout this, so come on out."

"I can't help it!" I sob, 'cause I really can't. Something that is too big for my body is happening to me, and I can't stop it.

"H— I know. Just come out." He's begging, and now he's not just holding my feet, he's pulling 'em; pulling me, out from underneath my hidey hole and into the world, even though I want to stay in here forever. He's trying so hard to bury something that's still alive; something that has teeth and jaws, and is eating me from the inside out. He don't wanna see it, and he don't wanna hear it, and he don't wanna deal with it. I wish he'd curl up in my make-believe pillow fort, and hide from the world with me. I wish he'd understand. "You don't gotta be under there. Come out, right now."

Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out.

He's getting angry again. He's holding himself back from something very nasty that lives inside him.

"No," I'm begging him back; begging him to just listen. "No, I don't wanna come out. I don't wanna—!"

I anchor myself to the table leg. We're an unstoppable force and an immovable object, colliding head on for the first time, ever, and it's a disaster. That night at the quarry was nothing.

Furious, my Dad rips the cloth off the table and boxes of puzzles go toppling over onto the floor, breaking into a million little pieces that used to be happily fused. Newly exposed, he easily ducks under and locks his hand around my wrist. I scream, and I close my eyes so I don't have to see my Daddy like this, 'cause it ain't him anymore. He pries my little fingers off the table, one by one by one, and ow, ow, ow, it really hurts. I'm yanked away, and then he's dragging me out by the ankles, shouting—

"Stop actin' like this. You ain't a baby." I hook myself onto a second leg, and he's wrestling with me all over again. "Stop! Mind yer damn father, girl!"

I'm not a baby, but I wish I was, 'cause we were happy back then.

"Stop!" I sob, kicking at him. "J— Leav— Just leave me alone!"

"I ain't leavin' you alone — You know why?" He's seething down to me. "'Cause you need a damn spanking. That's why."

I think back to an hour ago, when I thought I'd only ever be happy for the rest of my life. What a stupid thing to think.

Don't make it any worse, his voice is warning me, from all the times he's done this before.

But it can't get any worse.

In one big pull of strength, I'm forced out from underneath the table once and for all, where I felt safe and small and alone, into the light of the game room where I feel naked, again, for all to see. My face is raw and wet and hurt, and I think one of my buttons got torn off by my Daddy when he was grabbing for me, even though he was the one to fix them before dinner, and on that night in the RV, to show me he loves me. He yanks me to my feet by the armpits, 'cause I can't stand on my own no more, and he crouches to get in my face.

"This is your last fuckin' chance, and then I'm gonna have to take my belt off." He warns me.

"I miss Momma." I whimper.

His face softens, but it's gone so quick I'm sure I imagined it. "Harley," He grinds out, "Stop this."

"You killed her!" I cry, scared, but braver than I ever been at the same time. "You made Momma kill 'erself! You made 'er jump off that bridge!"

I tried so hard to be like my Daddy, but I can't. I can't hide things like he can.

I don't care if he belts me after. I just want him to know. I want him to know that I know, and that I ain't never gonna forgive him. I'd take a thousand beatings just so I could scream the same thing up at him, until my throat bleeds, until I'm nothin' but a voice, until my Momma comes back. People who kill themselves don't wanna come back, but maybe this time, if I was a good enough girl, she might want to. I'd get on my knees, and I'd beg her, and I'd say, Please Momma, I need you. Please Momma, please. Me and Daddy can't do it on our own. She didn't love my Daddy, and my Daddy hated my Momma. He never said it, but I always knew he did. I saw it when he dropped me off at her house; how he didn't wanna leave me with her. I heard people say my Momma was sick in the brain, and that she was a bad Mom, but I loved her.

My parents might be forever separated, but on my face, they are still together. I got my Daddy's flat mouth and my Momma's green eyes. I am proof that hate can create love. I don't feel so loved right now, though. I feel like I'm nothing. I feel like when my Daddy said he loved me, he was lying.

And there it is, my Daddy's hand going for his belt, 'cause I chose to say the worst thing I could think of.

I don't wanna get beat, but sometimes it don't matter what little girls want.

"I want you to think about the way you're speakin' to me." My Dad, the same one that was crying in my baby photo, shouts in my face. "I don't know why you gotta be like this, Harley. I don't know why you gotta make me do this. You were havin' such a good day."

"I'm sorry—" I'm sayin' now. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"You shoulda thought about that before you started bringing this shit back up again. After this, never again, okay?"

He pulls me down into his chest, yanking the back of my shirt up to the base of my neck. I wait for the whip, and the burning sting afterwards.

I can take it. I'll just close my eyes and wait for it to be over.

But before it can come—

"Woah! Hey!" A man's shout. "Hey, hey! Stop!"

The whip doesn't come. I can catch my breath.

Under my Dad's arm, the one that's in the air, poised to beat me, I see a man in the doorway. I almost can't make him out, but there he is — It's officer Shane. The room seems to slap him in the face, like he can't believe what he's just walked into. He's scared to step inside, in case the moment breaks and my Dad chooses to beat me, anyway. Shane's a bastard cop, and it's his job to save people. I never thought I'd be needing saved from my Dad. I still don't think I need saving. I brought this on myself. I wish he'd go away, so it could be over with.

My Dad stands up, his whole body clenched with muscle ready to punch.

"I'm gonna ask you put that down, man." This is the first time I'm hearing Shane's police-man voice. "And to step away from her, okay?"

I feel embarrassed.

I'm kneeling on the floor, grabbing onto the side of the sofa, tryna hide myself again. I don't belong here. I don't want Shane to see me like this. I wanna be the little girl he caught frogs with, not a ball of hurt and tears. Suddenly, this isn't a games room anymore. It's a wolf's den, and I got two of 'em right in front of me, circling each other, ready to bite. I scuttle further into the corner, like if I shrink myself enough, I can just disappear into the floor.

"You ain't askin' me shit, officer." Dad whispers, real nasty. "Ain't no rules, no more. Not so tough, now."

"I'm not gonna ask you again, man." Officer Shane warns, stepping very slowly into room.

He moves toward us, inch by inch, like a man inside a lion enclosure.

"You don't gotta." Dad spits. "Door's right there."

"You're hittin' on little girls, now, Daryl." Shane huffs that mean laugh again. "Sorry, buddy, but that's my business. Come on. Step away."

If Shane had his gun in his holster, his hand would be on it. But we left all our weapons in the bedrooms before dinner. He stretches his fingers; tilts his head. I realize he don't need a gun. He's gonna fist-fight my Dad if he don't do what he says. My Dad, sensing this, chucks his belt on top of the broken puzzles, and stretches out his fingers, too. They're one wrong word away from beating each other to a pulp.

I wanna beg 'em to stop, but my voice is burrowed somewhere deep inside my body, and I can't reach it.

"We don't have to do this, Daryl." Shane's half-way into the room, now. When did he get that close?

"Sure we don't." Dad snarls. "You gonna hit me? Go ahead."

Shane shakes his head. "That's not somethin' I wanna do, man. But you know I will. Step away."

A hiccup I didn't give permission to leave my mouth cuts through the room. Shane glances at me. I don't know who I'm supposed to root for.

"'Step away', huh? Step away from my own daughter?" My Dad scoffs.

Shane glances from me to my Dad, and I can see him start to realize that this angle won't work on my Dad. He holds out his hand. Something about the way he's looking at me is saying, You don't have to be afraid, but I am, and I don't wanna move. I feel like this is my fault. I watch as he flicks his fingers a little, brows raised. "How 'boutchu come over here, Harley, huh?"

Dad blocks me with his body before I can even think about it. "Hey, don't you fuckin' speak to her."

His eyes are back on my Dad. "Just tryna do what's best for everybody, here, Daryl."

My Dad cracks one of his knuckles. "Nah. Nah, I don't think you are. You got it all twisted."

"Don't think I do."

"Yeah?" Dad goads, and every second, I wait for one of them to swing. I can't stand it. "What is it you think you walked in on, then, huh?"

I think my Dad's waiting for the swing, too, 'cause he's so confident that he'll win that he wants officer Shane to try him. He wants to punish him. He wants to show him what happens when you insult a Dixon, 'cause protecting the name is more important than protecting his own body. I think about the way my Dad busted Rick's cheek; How Ronnie's Momma ain't recognise him when my Daddy was done with him.

Shane must be thinkin' the exact same thing, 'cause he starts goading my Dad right back.

"I think I walked in on you beatin' the shit outta your own kid, first of all." Shane shrugs, like it ain't his fault it's fact, and he keeps going when he notices my Dad's breathing get heavy. He's enjoying this. A smile splits his face. "I think we been worrying 'bout Jim this whole time, we been worrying 'bout the wrong man. How 'bout that? You wanted us to be so focused on him, we forget about the real monster."

"That right?" Dad side-steps Shane when he reaches the edge of the coffee-table.

"Sounds right to me, man." Shane says. "Lemme ask you this, Daryl. What is it you think I walked in on?"

I wonder where everyone else is. I wonder if at any second, one of them is gonna walk in.

"It don't matter what I think." Dad shouts, suddenly, and I shriek like I've been struck by the belt. "It's my damn business. It's my damn daughter."

"Yeah, I betchu wish it was." Shane huffs out a chuckle. "Don't want your secret gettin' out, right?"

Shane's like a wriggly little worm, needling my Dad where he don't wanna be needled.

My Dad's patience finally runs out.

He rears back to swing at Shane's head, and his fist is caught and twisted, and I hear Shane grunt in pain, and this is it, so I close my eyes—

Wait.

My eyes are open. That don't make no sense. Why is it so dark? Why can't I see?

I realize that the fight has stopped, and I feel like we've all forgotten about it and are waiting for something to happen.

There's a single murmur throughout the room.

"Was that the power?"

Author's Note.

Cliff-hanger! Mwahahha.

So, obviously, the last scene in this chapter is pretty brutal. I'd like to share why I made the decision to have Daryl act this way, because it could be a shock for some.

For starters, I think it's plausible for a number of reasons. Merle being a bad influence on Daryl, his unhealed childhood trauma and how that affects how he parents his child, and his unhealthy habit of bottling up his emotions, etc.

It's not pretty, I know, and I kind of hated writing that scene, but that brings up my second point. For the sake of the themes and arcs I want to give this story, it was necessary. This story just couldn't exist if it didn't have this scene. I've got, like, three different key subplots linked to it. Maybe you can even guess what they are, because two of them have been hinted at/set up already. They're only going to get more prominent from here on out.

So that's the explanation for anybody who wanted or needed it. You'll see all this play out in the coming chapters, anyway, but I just wanted to provide this in the mean time. :)

Rant over! Phew. Everybody take a sigh of relief.

On a more positive note, everything else in this chapter was a total joy to write! These poor guys deserve some happiness 😌

Hope you enjoyed reading, and as always, please consider sharing your thoughts! Sending love :)

#child abuse #the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daddy issues #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #parent daryl dixon #rick grimes #fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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arlenianchronicles · 1 year

Note

Hello! I read your Dark!Maedhros AU a couple days back—thanks for replying to my tags about it and sharing it, it’s super cool! I hope you don’t mind me gushing about it? If it were a fic, I would leave a comment to show my appreciation, but in lieu of that I figured I’d send you an ask. I hope that’s alright (humble apologies if you’d rather just delete this).

The plot beats are so riveting and well thought out, also so in line with the heavy vibes and themes of canon! I love how it centers on Maedhros’s deterioration after so much trauma and loss—it’s heartbreaking, and imagining Maedhros on Morgoth’s side is terrifying! At the same time, the way you get him there is so painful and angsty!!!

I was really invested in the story, all the way from the initial loss of the twins and Maglor’s death. I could see it just getting worse and worse! Especially once the war was won for Morgoth. I think it’s such a clever twist/manipulation on the Oath that he would convince Maedhros that he’d basically fulfilled it by allying with his greatest enemies. That’s just so!!! Ah—scrumptious angst! Also I don’t know how you did it but the way you’ve crafted/told this story, it’s really got me thinking about how it must feel to be immortal, to be cursed to keep going and going. I feel like this AU really leverages the relentlessness of Elvish immortality, especially as it relates to lasting grief.

I love the idea of the twins being captives in Maedhros’s twisted, dark fae vibes court (which, that concept? Inspired!). The way his love has been twisted into something covetous feels so on-theme and so tragic! It’s like he’s been consumed by the thing that he lost/can’t have.

It was super exciting to see that you shared the entire plot breakdown/some of the best most gripping scenes. I read it all last week and knew I needed to send you an ask about it because it’s just such a good AU idea! Apologies if you’ve already answered this somewhere, but do you ever plan to write it out in full/post it anywhere? No pressure if not—thanks for sharing this AU, it’s amazing!

Hi there! Thank you so so much for your ask!! No need to apologize at all, I love receiving asks and comments (especially when it comes to my work hahaa It's just so much fun to see other people's reactions!) I had a big smile on my face while reading your thoughts loll So please feel free to gush as much as you’d like about the AU! :DDD

I’m really happy to hear that you were invested in the story, even when it was just an outline XD Maedros’ deterioration was lots of fun to figure out; the poor guy just can’t catch a break! And being immortal in this situation would definitely be painful, like, just being forced to watch the world deteriorate into a hellscape under Morgoth’s rule … It’s not a theme I thought of when I first started drafting this AU, but it’s definitely a welcome surprise! :''''D

I’m happy you like the dark fae concept for Maedros’ court! It’s one of those other things that I didn’t initially plan on, but once I started writing it out in my previous replies, it all just clicked (and I actually have a painting of his court coming soon, so keep an eye out! XDD)

Thank you so much again for sending me your ask, and for taking the time to read through my outline!! I love all comments, both in asks and tags <333 And please don’t apologize, it’s okay!! I currently don’t have any plans to write this AU out in a fanfic – the section with the twins isn’t fully outlined, and I usually get stuck while writing if I don’t have an outline to work off of loll ^^;; I’m also working on another fanfic at the moment, but once that one’s done, I could definitely look into working more on my dark!Mae AU! Thanks again!! <333

#asks #thefollow-spot #dark maedhros #kidnap fam #au #tolkien #silmarillion #man now i'm getting in the mood to work more on this au loll #figure out the twins' section and all #and then actually write it as a fic ... with art included ...#we'll see if i have enough energy for it after my god of war fic is done! XDDD

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sparksnevadas · 1 year

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SPARKS you asked me to do this last night but then I got distracted bhHhshsjsn.

I am. A Quackcicle enjoyer. So:

I think 1, 2, and 3 for hands works really well (tiny hands in big hands, calloused hands in soft hands, cold hands in warm hands) for them or possibly 14 (grabbing hand to show them something) OR 36 (unconsciously searching out each other’s hand while sleeping) all give me their vibes.

For hugs, 11 (clinging to each other) and 16 (‘not wanting to let go’ hugs) fit well I think :D

From kisses, 12 (kisses on the corner of their mouth) 14 (kissing each other breathless) 16 (nose kisses) and 54 (sleepy kisses) *nods* (and if you want angst,,,,60- kissing with their last dying breath 👁)

Some good touch ones are 2 (running fingers through hair) 3 (hiding face in neck) 9 (listening to others heartbeat [evaporates]) I COULD KEEP GOING BUT THIS IS ALREADY A LOT

Feel free to do these separately, never do some of these, combine some, ect. Brought to you by homosexual energy in my first period English class

Hi Blue!!! You sent this like a week ago and i am SO SORRY it took so long. Life's just been kinda (sad clown noises), and it's been hard to concentrate on anything, especially today, but luckily for you, I really wanted to write about avians nesting :) I used... two of the hands one, 1 of the kiss ones and two of the touch ones (and depending on how you look at it, the hug ones too). It's kinda silly and my writing feels rusty but hope you like it!!! Hope you're doing well Blue!! <3

----

Quackity has been feeling off the past few days. It feels like a headache without the pain, a pressure behind his eyes and under his skin that aches dully for some sort of relief. He has no idea when it started, but it’s inconvenient-- Las Nevadas still needed his full attention, like clay needed molding to get it into the perfect shape. So despite the way the world seems to spin and blur around him, he forces his legs to walk forward as he outlines a new build: everyone knew a casino town needed a loan shop.

It’s only when he’s shivering despite the hot sun on his back that he realizes the issue.

It must be nesting season for him.

Nesting season was different for all hybrids. Some grew possessive or territorial, some needed to isolate. Quackity had realized years ago that he was pretty low maintenance when it came down to it: all he needed was a warm bed and he could sleep it off.

Key words being a warm bed.

“Is something wrong, Quackity from Las Nevadas?” Slime called out to him. Quackity glanced up from where he was bent at the waist, gripping a storage chest for balance. He doesn’t remember getting into this position, but the world is still spinning in front of his eyes.

“Hm,” he hums softly, thinking about whether he should lie. There’s something vulnerable about getting caught in this state, about to pass out because he needs to get cuddled. Even if it’s a biological thing, it still feels embarrassing.

“Do you want water?” Slime says, already scavenging through their side bag of trinkets. They pull out a glass bottle of water and hold it towards Quackity. “Did you drink too much again?”

Ah, he thinks I’m hungover, Quackity realizes as he takes the bottle. He twists the top off and takes a few small tiny sips. It helps slightly, but his skin is still crawling unpleasantly. Quackity doesn’t know if Slime thinking that is any less shameful than just admitting his birds instincts are getting the most of him.

“Thanks buddy,” he says simply, handing back the bottle. Slime takes it and stuffs it away. They tilt their head curiously.

“You’re looking a little green today, Quackity! Did you eat some slime while I was gone?” they ask.

Quackity shakes his head, feeling his resolve crumble as all of Slime’s attention was on him. He pushes his shoulders back, trying to stand up straight.

“I’m fine, just feeling a little under the weather-”

“Do you need to fly above it?” Slime says, looking up. They stare at the clouds for a moment as Quackity struggles to figure out what dots were connected in the mob’s mind. “Being under the weather has never bothered you before, though, Quackity from Las Nevadas.”

“I-I don’t mean the actual weather, Charlie!” Quackity corrects them. “It’s a saying! It just means I’m feeling sick.”

“Oh!” Slime says, looking back at him.

Without any preamble, Slime grabs Quackity’s hand and tugs the man closer. Their slime skin is cool to the touch, a little moist but still pleasantly distracting. Quackity squeezes his hand mindlessly, digging into the relieving feeling. Slime’s hand is bigger than his own, but softer, more gentle as it squeezes back.

“Let’s go home then,” Slime calls to him. It feels far away despite Slime being right in front of him.

—

When Quackity sluggishly wakes up, he barely processes that he’s laying in soft blankets. Someone is softly finger combing through his hair, but for once in his life, Quackity isn’t immediately panicked by the lack of his beanie. There’s a happy chirp halfway through his mouth before he can think to stop it.

The pillow under his head chuckles a bit and the hand continues to press soothing pets into his head. Quackity doesn’t question it as he reaches out, grasping for… something. He has to uncurl and fight his way through about four blankets before he finds it. He squeezes the goopy hand that immediately tightens around his own.

“Good midnight, Quackity,” Slime greets him from above his head. Quackity almost chirps, but he swallows it down as he looks up. There’s not a lot of light in the room, and as Slime pointed out, it was night time. Still, with the weakest of lights from his bedside insomnia candle, Quackity sees Slime grinning at him.

“Feeling better? The weather is alot cooler now-” Slime points out, lifting their hand from Quackity’s head to gesture towards his balcony. Quackity groans in annoyance at the loss, tilting his head back to chase after Slime’s hand. Slime gives him a curious look.

“Is something wrong?” Slime asks.

… It’d be so easy to just ask for their hand back, but…

Quackity leans further back, and then grapples with the blankets to pull his other hand free. He reaches out blindly, grabbing Slime’s wrist and pushing it back into his hair. After just a second of hesitation, Slime returns to gently pressing their fingers into his scalp, and Quackity sighs.

He returns to his more comfortable position on Slime’s chest, pulling Slime’s hand (still holding his hand) to his chest as he nuzzles closer. The blankets around him are warm and heavy, Slime’s hand in his own keeps him grounded even as his instincts threaten to spill over.

Still, something is a bit off about the situation. He presses further in Slime’s chest before he realizes.

Slime doesn’t have a heartbeat.

Wait, Did they always not have a heartbeat? Did Quackity never realize his best friend was gooping about with no heart?

That doesn’t seem right. He tilts his head back, again making eye contact.

“Do you have a heart?” He questions. Slime blinks.

“No,” they say easily.

“Since when?” Quackity presses.

“I think I ate chicken last week--” Slime begins to say, before Quackity cuts them off.

“No, I mean a beating heart, your own heart, like,” Quackity lets go of Slime’s hand and presses their palm against his chest, right above his heart. “Like this. Like mine.”

Slime’s eyebrows pinch in concentration as Quackity watches.

Then without a thought behind those eyes, Slime squeezes his chest firmly and makes a horn honking sound.

Quackity scrambles and pushes himself up into a seated position, pulling their hand away and covering his own chest.

“DID… DID YOU JUST HONK MY--,” Quackity yells, as Slime looks at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates and a huge grin.

“Yeah! That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” Slime says back, and Quackity has to look down and bite his lip to keep from laughing in Slime’s face. When he barely has himself under control, he looks up.

“Noo,” he shakes his head, smiling at Slime. “How would you like it if I just came over and--”

Slime puffs their chest out. “I wouldn’t mind!”

It breaks any of the resolve Quackity has left. He giggles and then full on laughs as he leans down and presses his forehead against Slime’s chest. Slime seems to take it as an invite to wrap their arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. To be fair, it’s exactly what the bird part of him wants as he stretches his wings out and pulls Slime closer. A few chirps mix in with his laugh as he snorts, and Slime giggles softly into his hair.

“You’re- You’re so lucky that you’re cute,” Quackity giggles, looking up from his place in Slime’s arms. The dizzy, uncomfortable feeling from earlier has completely left him. He feels properly held, warm and loved. And as he looks at Slime grin under the praise, he can’t help but lean up and press a kiss against the corner of their mouth.

“Thank you,” Quackity says softly as he pulls away. “You didn’t have to bring me here, or-or even lay with me. I know I can get clingy this time of year-”

“When I tried to leave earlier, you held me down,” Slime says nonchalantly, grin still on their face. Quackity blushes with embarrassment.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He starts to push himself up, but Slime pulls him back down, shaking his head.

“I don’t mind. You’re really warm,” Slime says easily. “I like being with you.”

Quackity nestles closer to the crook of Slime’s neck, pressing his face into the warmth there while gripping Slime’s arms tightly.

“I like it too, Charlie,” he says back quietly.

The two stay like this until Quackity finally falls back asleep, his bird side perfectly satiated.

#quackcicle #this ficlet is also like projection city SDFGHJ #ALSO I DIDNT READ THIS FOR MISTAKES IM SORRY #okay ive edited it now so it should be mostly alright

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pulchrasilva · 1 year

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One Line, Any Fic

I was tagged by @ihasafandom

Rules: pick any 10 of your WIP fics (or finished; go nuts), scroll somewhere to the mid-point, pick a line, and share it! Then tag 10 people.

These are maybe a bit more than a line but shhh

A mix of Sanders Sides, Roleslaying and Venom fics. Some of these are just single lines jotted down in my notes, some of them are fic I haven’t touched in years, and exactly one of them is actually finished and should be posted soon :D feel free to ask me about any of these because I’d love to talk about them it’s how I get inspiration

These are maybe a bit more than a line but shhh

No pressure tags: @fangirltothefullest @lost-in-thought-20 @theimprobabledreamersworld @remus-of-reston @ant1m0ny @lost-in-frog-land @kitausuret @soodoonimin @korruptbrekker @brandstifter-sys

1. I’m Yours

Of course, the dish had long since gone cold, and there was no way Logan would be eating it after he stepped in it, but the idea made him want to smile, or cry. Both actions were things he hadn’t done in a long time.

2. Don the Sash and Sceptre

Roman strutted down the school corridor like it was his own personal walkway carpeted in red. In a way, it was. Not literally of course, but the way heads turned as he passed by more than made up for that.

3. all i wanna do is take the sad from you

Patton conjured Roman’s orb, and sure enough, amid the scarlets and crimsons and wine reds, a patch of dark, dark red swallowed the prince’s positivity. A blemish on Roman’s courageous and hopeful personality.

4. every memory adds another piece

Steeling himself, the Janus seized Patton by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug – to hide his face, of course. He couldn’t let another side see him crying. That’s what this was about. It had nothing to do with how isolated he felt, or how the physical contact to grounded him inside his own skin.

5. An Alien Symbiote and a Very Resourceful Goat

Venom moved slowly, both to avoid scaring it off and because he physically couldn’t move any faster. When he was near enough to extend a trembling tendril, Venom wasted no time. He latched on to white fur and sunk past the skin.

6. i know a place where the pain doesn't reach

It was so tender, so vulnerable yet relaxed, in a way that he'd never seen either of them. He'd been travelling with Youngblood for a while now, and slowly getting to know Noise since leaving Neon, but this was a level of familiarity and trust that he couldn't even dream of. The sight had his heart aching with a sudden craving for this, this intimacy, with them.

7. Unnamed

A road, entirely straight, stretches off in either direction into the distance, cutting through the bleak muted orange of the land on either side, dried mud with deep fissures and completely flat. A little way off to his left was what appeared to be a cactus, guarded and intimidating. To his right, a mountain range formed a paper thin outline along the horizon. Thomas started walking. Did it really matter which direction?

8. Unnamed

"You don't need him. I do. And like hell am I gonna let Cletus go after all that time we were separated. If you can't deal with that, you can go find another host that's willing to give up everything for you. Or you could help me save my husband."

9. Unnamed

Carnage grew, spilling out of the heart and into the surrounding veins and arteries, until he filled ever vein, every artery, every tiny capillary. Blood replaced entirely by something new. His body and Cletus's intertwined, forever.

10. A Tragedy with a Happy Ending

Their bones clacked together as Cross took his hand. It felt different from before - there was no warmth, no soft flesh padding out their grip. But even after all the years apart and all the ways they'd changed, their hands fit together perfectly - like they always had.

#tag game #fanfiction #fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #roleslaying with roman fanfiction #venom fanfiction

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titlemewickedwonderland · 2 years

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Blind by Love (Part 7)

Summary: A once condemned man now free of charge but living the life of someone who's been through hell Eddie Munson believed he is incapable of being loved after what happens in the Upside Down that nearly takes his life. What happens though when he meets an unexpected girl who is thrown into his life and teaches him that one doesn't need to ability to see what's right in front of you to know love is never out of reach?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Blind!OC

Story Contains: Set after S4. Story mention of Past trauma, PTSD, and mention of gore/blood; if you are sensitive to any of these topics please refrain from reading for your own mental safety. I don't want to accidentally trigger you, darling! Stay safe!

Chapter Warning: Mild panic attack ad slight angst

<<Previous Chapter or Next Chapter >>

She should have kept her mouth shut. She should have said something else or just said forget it. The tension of the man beneath her made Nicole feel as if she had just walked into a caged animal's space. The hands that were once stroking up and down her spine had fallen to her thighs and Eddie didn't say a single damn word after she'd spoken last and the blonde feared she'd overstepped. Feeling the tightness in her chest she pushed away from his warmth and began to climb from his lap; well attempted to but his grip on her thighs tightened like an iron keeping her rooted in his lap and making her squeak in surprise.

"E-Eddie, really. It's fine. I'm sorry I said anything." the girl tried to ease the situation and shift again trying to slide from the rocker's lap but the man merely wrapped an arm around her waist to pin her down.

The fact that Eddie still hadn't said anything made the girl nervous but she did not try to get off of him again instead she sat there; palms trembling slightly against the rise and fall of his chest. She could feel the thudding of his heart beneath her touch and she wondered if he was trying to collect himself; being forced to relive whatever accident he had gone through. Little did she know Eddie wasn't reliving an accident. He was reliving a fucking nightmare as the phantom pains of teeth sinking into flesh made the skin beneath his clothes quiver.

"Nicole do you believe in monsters?" his question suddenly broke the silence and Nicole's eyebrows shot up.

"Monsters? What kinds of monsters Eddie?" she questioned cautiously. "Are we talking about beasts not from this world like something out of your D&D games or like…monsters in human skin?" she asked tilting her head as she played with the worn fabric of his shirt.

"I mean monsters…like…monsters from hell." his voice was tense and low

In the darkness of her vision Nicole could see just the outline; a ghostly shape of something ghastly and monstrous from her memory which made her heart rate pick up. She nodded slowly. "Yes. I believe such things exist."

"How do you know they exist if you cannot see them? What makes someone believable if one doesn't have eyes to see for proof?" there was almost a condescension in his voice as he asked it which made the frown on her face deepen.

"Because you forget I wasn't born blind Eds." her voice was soft as her hands lowered so that her hand could find his and her fingers began twisting and turning the rings on them as she continued; her breath coming in shorter pants as she spoke seemingly reliving some sort of memory that haunted her.

"I know the type of monster that doesn't look like any sort of animal or human being on this earth. I know such creatures exist in our world…although I don't know if they came from another realm or if they were once mortal beings or animals that got tested on. I believe there is much we as humans don't understand and should never even attempt to meddle in if we don't have the proper knowledge. I know this because that accident 3 years ago that robbed me of my sight was not from a stupid tire blowing up from hitting something in the road Eddie."

His dark eyes looked up at her face to see just how hollow her eyes looked; her face looking pinched and withdrawn as if her face had sunken just within seconds as she spoke. Her words sunk a little deeper into his mind and his spine went a little more rigid than before as he comprehended what she was talking about. Could she have witnessed something from the Upside Down without her knowing it? He licked his suddenly dry lips before speaking.

"It's been mentioned that you were in a facility for therapy and tests to see if you were mentally capable and sane enough to return to the real world after getting used to your lack of sight right?…what was the name of the facility?" he questioned dreading to hear it.

"Hawkins Labs why?" Well shit

Hawkins laboratories were the cause of all the freaking bullshit in the first place; meddling with things that they didn't have a right to that were beyond their understanding. Anger boiled in his chest at the thought that they'd caused one of their failed experiments to escape which resulted in Nicole's life being changed forever.

"Yeah…I was afraid of that," he grumbled with a sigh as he rested his forehead against her shoulder and she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck to hold him close.

"Why does that matter?"

"Because they're the real cause of the earthquake because they were messing with shit they weren't supposed to. Unleashing the demons from another world that should never have stepped foot in here." the hardness of his words made something click in her mind and her stomach churned.

She pulled away and reached up to grasp at his face. She could not look at him but she could sense that hardened and darkened stare as his head lifted as he spoke. She swallowed the lump in her throat and her gasp on his face tightened slightly.

"Are you telling me…my parents died because of some fuck up the government is covering up?"

the slight nod of his head in her hands made her face twist and she scrambled from his lap feeling the air around her getting thinner. His warm hands adorned with those cold rings grasped at her as if trying to calm her down but she just slapped them away and somehow managed to find herself off the bed. Her hand outstretched to make sure that she didn't trip over anything as she eventually found the wall and followed it.

"Nicole listen to me. Hey, calm down!" Eddie's voice grew nearer as he launched himself from the bed but he didn't try to hold her again seeing the poor girl on a verge of a panic attack as she pressed herself against the wall of his bedroom.

"All of this could have been avoided. They lied…they fucking lied! They told me it was just my psyche playing tricks on me because of my trauma!" a sob left her throat. "I knew it was a lie; I know I wasn't crazy!"

Guilt stabbed the man in the gut like a rusty jagged piece of metal as he saw the girl's face twist in emotions one after another as she processed the knowledge. She'd asked him to tell her. She'd begged him and told him she could handle the truth but now that the truth was out in the open her brain couldn't actually comprehend it.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…" he whispered crouching down with her as she slid to the floor; her knees buckling against her chest as she hugged them to her as if trying to make her smaller as if she needed protection.

"What did they do to you….You said they were responsible for the earthquake…what did those sons of a bitches open up to ruin this town?" her voice wavered as her head turned towards him. Her eyes wide and blue; filled with the most focus he had ever seen them before.

Swallowing Eddie subconsciously grabbed at his side. He knew he didn't owe her shit; didn't need to tell her. But staring at the broken girl he chose to allow the truth to come out. "They opened a gate to a place we called the Upside Down…" he began as he dove into the story, the twisted fucked up truth of just what he had endured and what not only did his friends but her own cousins had to endure during that time.

It was dark by the time Eddie had finished and all the tears for those lost and the pain they endured were now dry on both their faces as they sat still in the darkness of his bedroom. The lamp at his bedside was the only thing illuminating the room and even that did not reach them in their dark moment. The sound of crickets outside was the only indication that it was nighttime. Nicole hadn't realized how late it had gotten; Mike and his family probably were worried sick that she hadn't come home yet. But she wasn't ready to leave then. Instead, her body; stiff and aching unfolded itself and crawled across the space between them until her hands touched his knees.

'Will you let me see them?" she asked softly into the darkness and Eddie knew just what she was referring to. The scars. The blood, jagged, traumatizing scars that his torso and neck beneath the clothes he wore.

He was silent a moment as if contemplating this question. He had never shown or talked about his injuries before even after the wounds had healed. Not even to Dustin whose arms had been the ones cradling him as he nearly died. But this slip of a girl. So sweet, so pure, but with a dark trauma of her own she'd endured sat waiting patiently with eyes fixated blindly on his face. There was something about her that Eddie wanted to curl up in. Perhaps it was her sweet scent, her gentle smile, or the way she seemed to be wiser than her years' thanks to the darkness she had faced and learned to overcome. She was…she was someone Eddie craved to be around the more he had the chance like an addiction. So he did not feel the shame or the panic that normally would have accompanied the idea of someone seeing or touching his scars. His larger hands grasped her own and he slowly almost cautiously slipped her hands beneath his shirt he found comfort for the first time since the Upside Down when another human being's hands touched the damaged skin.

#eddie munson series #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things

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arecaceae175 · 5 months

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3, 12, 18, 23

Fanfic ask game

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

The first thing that comes to mind is chapter 1 of In Defense of Honor. I'll throw the scene under the read more bc it's a bit long :D

OH ALSO I really liked chapter 14 of febuwhump. There was cool subtext going on and it was fun to write. That's down below too

12. favorite character to write about this year

LU SKY!!!!! I also wrote a little bit of Loft from Bonus Links and I thoroughly enjoyed that too

18. current number of wips

Posted WIPs: 5, but one of those is Temple Escape and I don't plan on finishing that, so really just 4

WIPs in my drafts folder: 19. That's only counting the fics in my drafts I've actually started writing. There are about 15 more docs that have ideas or outlines lol

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

Hmmm I wouldn't say there's any I wanted to write but didn't. I have a lot of WIPs that I'm still working on that I'm excited about!

IDOH:

Sky rolled his shoulders and took one step towards the men, but he was stopped by Warriors’ hand on his arm.

"Sky, it's fine. Let's just go," Warriors whispered. Sky ripped his arm away and stepped fully in front of Warriors.

"No, it's not fine," Sky muttered over his shoulder. He turned to face the man in front of him.

"Do you have something to say about your hero?" Sky said loudly. The man and his friends sniggered, then he stood and rolled his shoulders.

" Hero ," the man said sarcastically as he swayed on his feet. "I sure do."

His words were slurred and Sky could smell the alcohol even more strongly than before. His meager self-preservation instincts were screaming at him to leave, but the heartbroken look on Warriors' face when he let his mask slip for a split second was burned into Sky's mind.

"This man risked his life for his kingdom. He sacrificed so much to save you, all of you! And this is how you repay that?" Sky said. He felt his hands shaking, righteous anger for his brother burning within him.

“We’re knights! We’re the ones who protect this place!” The man yelled back.

"Sky," Warriors hissed. Sky ignored him.

"You're a disgrace to the knighthood," Sky spit.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" The man yelled. He threw his hands up and shoved Sky with all his might. Sky barely felt it, and he only had to take a half step back to right himself. Warriors gasped and tensed beside him, but Sky put out an arm to settle him.

"I'll give you that one ," Sky growled. "If you try anything else I won't hold back."

Febuwhump:

Time spit blood onto the ground, then raised his head again. His cheek was split and a small stream of blood dripped down his face. He met Warriors’ gaze. “Do what you must.”

A knife was placed in Warriors’ hand and it cleared all the haze in his mind. He had done it, they trusted him . This was his chance to get Time out alive and keep the others safe. He gripped the knife with white knuckles and forced his breathing to steady.

“I don’t think you understand,” Warriors said. He needed Time to see his plan. They both needed to be ready to run, and Warriors needed to know if Time could still fight. “I’m the best shot you’ve got.”

“Why? Are we friends now?” Time asked. It sounded sarcastic, but Warriors knew Time was trying to ask for more information.

“Because I’m the one holding the knife,” Warriors said.

“And your friends are the ones holding the swords,” Time said, minutely shaking his head.

Warriors’ heart sank. Time could see the entire room and into the hallway. Warriors never got a good look, but judging by Time’s answer there were too many guards and too many weapons for him to take on alone.

Warriors realized he had to make a decision. Either he refused, which would give away his position and jeopardize the others, or he had to torture Time. Warriors felt his hands start to shake and images of a battlefield littered with his fallen brothers flashed through his mind. How many of those bodies had he been forced to put there?

Warriors shook the thoughts out of his head and refocused his gaze on Time. He desperately hoped their captors couldn’t see his shaking hands or his rapid breaths. He needed to keep his head. Time needed him.

“No one has to die here. Tell me the location so we can all walk away,” Warriors said, desperate to buy himself more time to think.

Time said nothing.

Warriors slashed the knife across Time’s chest. Time remained silent, but he flinched and clenched his eyes shut. His expression of pain was seared into Warriors mind, and he knew with certainty he would see it in his dreams for the rest of his life.

#thanks for the ask!#IDOH #febuwhump #ace's asks #ace's ask games

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coenvs3000w23 · 1 year

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Appreciating Our Past

In class this week, we got the pleasure of getting to learn about interpretation through a historical lens. Upon reading, I often found myself daydreaming of a younger version of myself. Who I was, and what I have come to be. The changes I have made, the things I have improved on and how I have developed into the person I am today. Like anyone looking back at their past self, I often found myself cringing, and grateful for the place I am today. Not only do I feel I have improved, but often, especially because of reflections like these, I have learned to grow from past experiences. No matter how big or small, I often find it extremely useful to look back on the past and grow from it. Not only that but it's these times I learn the most about myself. Ironically, looking back, I would be lying if I said I was a fan of history. But as I have matured I think being able to reflect on the past has helped me appreciate history as a whole.

In the textbook, I really enjoyed the section Preserving and Interpreting Memories. Often, I found myself relating to this section of the readings, and I think the following quote outlines my thoughts exactly…

“We need the past for our sense of who we are. We need the past for a sense of our civic responsibility, how all these benefits and freedoms came to us, and what it is our duty to protect.”

~ David McCullough

When I find myself daydreaming about the past, thinking about the people I have met along the way I find myself finding a better sense of self. I would like to say I am very confident in the person I am today, and I think I'm in that position because I have reflected on so much of my past. Looking back, feeling nostalgia, helps me feel like me. I find that I can get a better sense of self, as well as the privileges and freedoms I have been given. This not only allows me to appreciate myself and my experiences, but it allows me to appreciate those around me more.

The quote we have been given to unpack is as follows.

There is no peculiar merit in ancient things, but there is merit in integrity, and integrity entails the keeping together of the parts of any whole, and if these parts are scattered throughout time, then the maintenance of integrity entails a knowledge, a memory, of ancient things. …. To think, feel or act as though the past is done with, is equivalent to believing that a railway station through which our train has just passed, only existed for as long as our train was in it.

~Edward Hyams

Although this quote may be a mouthful, I think the end is particularly profound. Much like the railway station, life and experience exists outside of our scope (the train). When you neglect the parts that lead up to and influence our present – reality itself becomes distorted. With knowledge of our histories, we are better able to understand and appreciate our realities.

Although I agree with the common phrase “don’t dwell on the past”, I believe it still quintessential to reflect on the past. Whether it be in a classroom or in a daydream, maintenance of these truths is essential for our integrity; allowing us to improve as well as move forward.

The society that loses its grip on the past is in danger, for it produces men who know nothing but the present, and who are not aware that life had been, and could be, different from what it is.

~Aristotle

Beck, L, Cable, Ted T., Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting Natural & Cultural Heritage. Sagamore-Venture Publishing. 2018

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izjeon · 2 years

Text

LIVESTREAM !

idol!jungkook x fem!reader

genre: smut, established relationship, pwp (kinda)

word count: 1k

warnings: MINORS GET OUT!! not proofread, consensual sex, d&s (dominance & submission), s&m (sadism and masochism), oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), dom!jk & sub!reader, beefy kook, unrealistic sex, extreme overstimulation, multiple orgasms, copious amounts of cum, mentioned unprotected sex, unaware audience, and reader’s cooch has been through it ⛲️

+a/n: this is a repost of an old drabble for somebody who used to read my old ffs ♡ . also, this is one of my favourites from my old writing so i hope you enjoy! btw… there’s no impreg kink in this one 🙏🏾.

++ “anything for my angel.”

𖥻 L𝗶VES࣪TREAM

jungkook gripped the leather arms of his desk chair and forced a smile for the vlive he'd switched on ages ago. bts' new song, dis-ease echoed around the room and through his screen to the millions of people watching his live. "arm—” he paused and glanced underneath the desk. his breath hitched in his throat.

gosh, the sight was amazing.

with your teary eyes looking up at him so beautifully, he could just see the begging and need for mercy in your eyes as you pleased his sadistic ways as part of your punishment. he eyed the runny mascara mixing in with the hot and sticky ropes of his blissful orgasms that had pooled inside your mouth instead of shooting down your throat.

he almost came at the sight of your puffy, swollen lips perfectly swallowing the whole of his large cock. he could even feel the outline of him inside your throat with the one hand he'd kept down there to provide comfort and pet your head or push your head down even further, leaning forward to hide it from your unaware audience.

he brought himself back to reality within a second or two, "ah, my apologies, army! i thought it was getting a bit messy down there with all my devices and was thinking of ways to organise— the mind of a cleaning-freak, haha!" your hands tied behind your back with his belt didn't help at all when he suddenly bucked into your mouth twice, hiding it with him just 'adjusting himself' on the chair.

"ah, i only wanted to come on for a short while before i went back to punishing you—" your core quivered around the vibrating length inside of you and you muffled a whimper by voluntarily deepthroating him. "—...punishing you all with my handsome face."

he grinned before throwing his head back with a laugh, "that was so embarrassing, i apologise." jungkook's right fist hidden from the camera clenched and unclenched as his thumb repeatedly pushed against the plus symbol on the small pink button until he knew he'd reached the highest level.

not being able to see the devious smirk your boyfriend had on his face, your eyes bulged out of their sockets as you were forced to take in the device’s small vibrator on your clit as well as the twitching, plastic length inside of your cunt. drunk on your climax, you involuntarily squirted all over the hotel room’s carpet.

and to hide the sound of you brutally coming undone for the 13th time under the desk, jungkook continued speaking to his fans as if nothing was happening. "oh, wow," he mumbled with a glance at his phone and feigned innocence, looking back to the camera, "guys, have i really been on here with you for 35 minutes?"

"hm, i guess i'll go now since it's been a while." he smiled at the camera with a wave, "bye guys!"

you patiently waited, your hips stuttering and grinding against air in need for a fat cock to stuff your pussy. jungkook remained silent, making sure everything was off, before wheeling his desk chair backwards.

slowly, he petted your head and looked down upon you with a coo. "my little sweetheart." you whimpered and shuffled closer to him on your knees, giving his hard and erect cock a twirl of your trained tongue. you were pleading so innocently: ‘daddy, please?'. he could almost hear it.

jungkook hurriedly shoved your head flush against his inner thighs and placed his both hands against the back of your head. he started to buck relentlessly into your warm fuckhole. "so f-fucking pretty—!" and with a pained shout, he shot his third load straight down your willing throat.

you didn't even have to put in work to swallow it as it all just shot rope after rope down your throat. with heavy eyes, you moaned around his cock at the beautiful view you had of jungkook falling apart because of your mouth. your mouth. nobody else could please him as you did. nobody.

he groaned as he pulled out of your battered fuckhole, strings of white following after his pink tip. "so fucking perfect..." he mumbled, rubbing his mess all over your pouting lips with his length.

jungkook grabbed your face from under your jaw, his thumb pressing into your cheek, and pulled you up to stand. his fingers fell onto your breasts, ghosting over the nipples that he loved so much. then with a u-turn, his fingers traced over your back, giving you chills. his hands did a quick job of unbuckling your wrists. he gave you freedom.

your legs felt as if they were going to give way when you reached a shaky hand down between your legs. you cried out, fingers grazing over your swollen clit, but you slowly pulled out the vibrating intruder and held it up to his view.

"suck it clean," jungkook ordered and turned off the vibrator. his curious fingers trailed down to your own mess. covered in your juices and jungkook’s cum, the pink vibrator slid past your lips, welcomed by an eager tongue.

"oh, baby," he groaned as his fingers felt around your inner thighs. three of his fingers slipped in with little to no struggle and even though he was terribly overstimulated, he was beginning to twitch back to life.

"how many times?"

you pulled out the device and swallowed before whispering, "t-thirteen..." you cried out at the increase in his pace as he fucked you with his fingers. you collapsed onto his chest, fingers gripping tightly onto the hoodie he wore.

"p-please," you begged before biting harshly on your lip; you knew better than to ask for something from him when it was your punishment. but jungkook grinned, turning the both of you around and throwing you onto the bed.

"anything for my angel."

#livestream; fin.

do not steal, modify, or publish my work.

#jungkook smut #bts jungkook #jungkook ff #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader smut #jeongguk smut #jeongguk imagine #jungkook imagine #jeongguk fic #jungkook fic #bts #🌟: angel’s fics

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just-here-for-the-moment · 3 years

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CONGRATULATIONS ON 300 LOVE💚💚💚 You deserve it and more because you are TALENTED and SO SWEET and everything you do is just 👨‍🍳🤌

I took the chance to spin your wheel… and first spin I got was Mando with a lactation kink… I KNOW this man loves kids and wants a big family so I can’t wait to see what you come up with!!!! All the love!

Woooo!!! This broke me. I was really going for XTRA FILTHY SMUT but that did not happen. This one surprised me when I wrote it by sneaking up all soft and sweet, and then ending that way too. That's okay, though, I like a good soft smut.

Hope you enjoy!!! :D

Word Count: 2030+

Rating: Explicit/mature, 18+ only

Outline: Din Djarin x “You”/Din’s wife (cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: starts soft, ends soft; Din has a filthy mouth; praise kink (use of “good girl”); lactation kink; unprotected P/V sex in the context of marriage; sprinkling of breeding kink

Evenings and nights were always your favorite with your husband. It was the best time of the day, everyone settled down and quiet, the ship docked for the night wherever you were visiting or set to autopilot to the next destination. You knew your husband’s moods, the slight slump of his shoulders telling you that he was getting drowsy, ready to head below decks and rest, curled up in your arms.

You nursed your son, putting him down before heading up to the cockpit to knit for a bit and watch the stars race by. After an hour of that, you saw the telltale signs and knew that Din was done for the day, even if he didn’t know it himself. He pushed himself too hard, always believing that there was more of him to go around than there was.

Now that the baby was here, growing healthy and strong, Din had resumed his habit of staying up too late, tweaking just one more thing in the cockpit or looking over the available jobs just one more time. He had spent too many nights slumped sleeping in that pilot’s chair, and you had finally started being gently pushy, in the hopes of getting the man to just stop and rest.

You waited until you saw the helmet keel an inch too far to the right, knowing how heavy it felt on his head, his old habit of wearing full armor at all times in the cockpit in case things went sideways and he had to spring into action. You didn’t push him to relax or remove it, you knew how much he needed that feeling of being in control. But you could be sweet and soft, remind him how much you needed him at the end of the day, how good it would feel to finally remove the Beskar and curl up against you, skin to skin for the night.

“Din,” you made your voice soft. “It’s bedtime.”

His helmet tilted back to center and you heard him clear his throat. “Just one more thing, mesh’la.”

You smiled to yourself and finished off your row of stitches, giving him a few more minutes, tweaking knobs and fiddling with buttons. You got up and stretched, then came around to his side, placing one hand on the back of his neck with a gentle squeeze.

“Let’s go. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone tomorrow.”

Din lifted one hand to grip your waist affectionately. You could visualize the fight happening on his face, the urge to take care of just one more item battling against the pull of your soft curves in the dark. You leaned in, letting his helmet come to rest against your side.

“Let me take you to bed, you big, strong man.” Your voice was soft, your nails softer as you slipped them just under the cowl and dragged them across the back of his neck.

Din sighed and then set the ship to autopilot before he removed his helmet. His eyes were rimmed with hints of red, the circles underneath deeper than they had been yesterday. Your heart squeezed, and you immediately took the helmet to set it gently on the floor. You kneeled in front of his chair and didn’t say a word as you started to help him remove his gloves, then all of the parts of his armor that you could reach. For his part, Din let you worry your fingers over him. Then he stood up and took off his back plates and cape, piling everything neatly on the ground.

“Sit.” You left no room for argument, and Din complied. You muttered gently to yourself as you reached down to help him remove his boots, “Kriffing crazy man, pushing yourself so hard…”

Din let you undress him, let you massage your fingers up his calves and across his quads, and that told you more than anything how tired he really was. Normally he would at least protest, say that he didn’t need the help, but this quiet acquiescence was worrisome. Still, though, you knew how to relax him, get him to stop. You weren’t above using your feminine wiles to bend him to your will, all in the service of getting him to rest.

When he was finally down to his flight suit, you opened the front of it and peeled it down and off his shoulders, and then straddled his lap in the pilot’s chair. You started by skating your nails over his shoulders. Din closed his eyes as a shiver ran through his body. He nearly moaned, a soft “Ohhh…” floating out into the quiet of the cockpit.

You gently pushed his forehead so that he could lean his head back on the headrest, and increased the pressure of your fingers as you rubbed circles into the knots of his biceps and trapezius muscles. Din let his hands rest on your thighs as you worked him over, and by the end of it, he was putty in your hands. You finished by laying a soft kiss to his velvet lips, and you were surprised when he kissed back and wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you tight.

“Sweet man, I thought you were tired?” You smiled as he brought his eyes to rest on your face.

“No, mesh’la. I think I just got a second wind.” Din raised an eyebrow at you, and you giggled as you felt him twitch hard underneath your crotch.

“No, you need to rest, my husband. You’re awfully tired.”

Din groaned as he buried his face against your sternum, grinding up against your through your clothing. You threaded your fingers through his curls and scraped your nails from his ears down to his neck, pulling a moan from deep in his throat.

“But I need to have you, just like this.” Din brought his hands up to untie the laces of your wrap dress, sliding his thick fingers under the fabric as it fell open. “Please? Can I taste your milk? You know I love to taste you, mesh’la.” He placed hot, open-mouthed kisses to the swell of your breasts. You felt a thrill run through your body, finding it harder and harder to be stern with him.

“No, Din, you really need-” You gasped as he cupped your breast with one big hand and brought his mouth to the nipple. “You need…” But for the life of you, you couldn’t remember the next part of your orders. You let your dress slide down your arms and off your shoulders, pooling on the floor of the cockpit. Your panties were damp, and Din’s strong arm wrapped around you, holding you firmly in place.

“I know what I need, my sweet wife. I need you.” Din dove back to your breast with his hungry mouth, swirling the nipple with his tongue as his erection grew and pressed harder against your clothed cunt. You felt your milk prickling behind your areolas, knowing that if Din applied any suction, you would start leaking from both breasts, and then you would entirely lose control of this mission to get him to bed.

“No, Din, bed-” but he cut you off with a growl, something primal and low that rumbled from deep in his chest and took your breath away as he gripped you closer, teeth scraping against your budded nipple.

Din began to suckle, and you threw your head back with a gasp, clinging tightly to his shoulders as the muscles flexed under your touch. He was quiet but greedy, sucking at one side before moving to the other. The feel of your milk letting down made you moan, and giving in was just too easy, too sweet to resist. You let your husband take what he wanted, what he needed from you. There would be plenty for the baby still.

“You taste like the stars, sweet girl.” Din’s voice was a hoarse whisper in between his lapping, and his praises made you wetter. “You taste like honey and sunshine like this.”

“Diiinn…” Your head was fuzzy, wiped clean of everything except desire. “Din, please…”

You weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but Din took charge, lifting you half out of his lap so that he could free his cock, before hooking one thick finger and pulling your panties to the side. He swept the head of his penis back and forth against your slick folds and then thrust up inside, settling you back on his lap with his arm wrapped tight around your lower back.

“My wife, my girl,” he growled into your mouth as he worked you against him. You braced your feet as best you could, but Din was determined to do things his way. You let him pull and release you with that iron grip, canting your hips back and forth as he rocked you on his length. He ducked his head back down and lapped at you again and again.

All you could manage was a breathy, “Ohhh,” as he kept thrusting up into you at a steady pace. You grasped at his shoulders, his hair, anywhere you could find a purchase to steady yourself.

“My wife has the sweetest tits in the whole galaxy. Such a good girl, letting me fuck her like this.” Din’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at you. “Want me to fuck another warrior into you, mesh’la? Another baby?”

“Yes, oh!” You felt your climax start to unfurl, every nerve tingling as his cock rubbed against your clit from this angle.

Din suckled you again and again, pausing only to growl praises and promises up into your mouth.

“You’d like that? You want me to fill you up again? I’ll keep you pregnant all the time, full of milk for me and our babies.” His arm wrapped tighter around your waist as he fucked up inside of you harder. “Keep your tits full? Keep you dripping sweet milk, all for me?”

You nodded and kissed him. “Yes, please- yes, yes. Fill me up, Din. I want you to.”

“Come for me first, sweet girl.” Din cupped his free hand under your knee and lifted your leg high and open. “Touch yourself. I want my wife to come around my cock.”

Your hand flew down inside your panties to touch your clit, rubbing and pressing it in circles, trying desperately to follow his wishes. Finally you felt the finish coming. You gasped out to him as you came and Din kept his eyes pinned on your face as you cried out. Your cunt squeezed and milked his cock as he began to spurt his own release deep inside. Din let go of your leg, and both arms wrapped your waist in a vise grip as he ground himself into you and climaxed.

When you were both spent, Din brought both hands to cup your breasts, licking the last of your milk from the swollen nipples.

Din’s “Hmmmm…” reverberated through his lips, the deepest and most satisfied sound you could imagine. You felt him hot inside of you, and you were reluctant to lift yourself off his lap. He softened inside of you bit by bit as he licked your nipples, squeezing both breasts until he was satisfied that he had gotten every last drop.

You draped your arms around the back of Din’s neck and let his cheek rest against your breast, curling your fingers gently in the back of his hair and feeling him finally soften fully.

“Will you sleep well, my husband?” You gently teased him, a soft smile on your lips as you looked down at him and stroked his face.

Din looked up at you from under his lashes, and your heart ached at how peaceful his big brown eyes were, how comforted he looked there in your arms. You wanted him to look like that forever. You wished you could somehow wipe all worry and strain from his life. But maybe this was the best you could do for your husband, just comfort him and give him solace when he needed it most.

Din closed his eyes and breathed deeply, and you let him rest there a while longer.

---

Din Djarin/Mando character masterlist

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

little birdie, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: The cat has asked the little birdie to make an appearance. You have been turning down private dances, preferring to focus on the art and glamour of the burlesque shows themselves. Besides, old money was entitled, twice your age, and, worst of all, ugly, inside and out. But Min Yoongi doubled his original offer and, well, he is new money.

these events occurred prior to twelve hours, m | jjk

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; reader is a burlesque dancer, caged bird performance based on Dita Von Teese; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics, tiny bit of striptease, red lipstick kisses on nether regions (oop), m-receiving oral); non-idol!AU - cocky, rich!Yoongi x wealthy, burlesque dancer!reader; a little drabble based on this ask

He cocked an eyebrow at you, holding the handle of the leather crop in between his perfect white teeth.

You cocked one back, covered in diamonds, rubies, and red feathers.

The room was silent except for breathing.

These walls were soundproof.

You leaned forward, lids lowered, staring at those dark brown, cat-like eyes through your lashes, your tongue extending, the warmth of his skin and his breath against your lips. You licked the handle. His pink tongue flickered out, brushing against yours.

Instant electricity.

You retreated sharply, eyes narrowing.

“You were instructed not to touch, Min Yoongi.”

The man in the expensive designer clothes tilted his head at your cold tone, not responding. He surveyed you calmly, hint of a smirk around the leather crop, his hands behind his back. Primly tailored black vest with black satin piping with matching slacks. Silk handkerchief, cobalt blue, matching his silk shirt with the subtle checkered pattern and designer logo stitched into the squares, tone on tone. Despairingly expensive, but not gaudy or over the top. Didn’t need to be. The sheen in his black hair indicated it was pampered and well taken care of. The shine of his black oxfords indicated real leather. The strength and potency of his spiced cologne made him smell like the pure sex he was from presence alone.

Behind you, your two bodyguards stood side by side, sunglasses on, unmoving.

You agreed to this private dance when Yoongi said he was willing to pay double the initial amount he offered.

New money really spent it on the dumbest shit.

You leaned forward again, watching him carefully. You were wearing long opera-style gloves made of a lush red sparkling fabric, embellished with intricate stitching.

Lifted your hand, turning it around, palm up.

“Drop.”

He only moved his lower jaw, the leather handle falling from his lips and right into your palm.

You flicked your wrist and ran the crop up the inside of his thigh, forcefully spreading his knees with one of yours, narrowing your eyes, nicking the flared end against his crotch.

Lesser man would have jumped away.

Min Yoongi was not a lesser man.

He confidently spread his legs and tipped his head back, black hair falling over one eye, smirk on those shapely pink lips. He didn’t speak or make a sound. It was disconcerting but somehow intriguing in its own way.

As if he didn’t need to speak to indicate confidence in his position.

He was a caged bird in this private room, willingly trapped by you.

You smiled.

Fitting, for the theme of your burlesque show tonight had been a large steel birdcage at the center of the stage and you inside it, dancing within the visible enclosure, skillful hands holding onto the metal bars, lush hips swaying to ruffle the feathers attached to create a half-skirt that mimicked tailfeathers of an exotic bird. You were still wearing some of the pieces now, the lingerie, the tailfeathers, and the heavy necklace of diamonds and rubies splayed out on your collarbones and chest.

You slid onto Yoongi’s lap, closing his legs with yours, entering the alluring aura that seemed to surround him, trapping the leather crop between your crotch and his. Slow exhale, mixing with his as he lowered his chin to look you in the eye, unafraid.

“Hello, little birdie.”

You did not typically touch the men you danced for. They were usually old, crass, and undeserving of your touch. You treated it as business because that was what it was. A simple service for money. Nowadays, you cut back on the private dancing and upped your price. It just wasn’t worth it, being so close to such filth.

But.

Every once in a while.

Sometimes, you got young money like Min Yoongi.

You dragged the crop up his abdomen, up his chest, shifting your arm in a graceful swoop, turning it so it grazed his cheek, outlining that high cheekbone and elegant jaw. You stared into his eyes and he stared back, open-mouthed smirk on his lips, not backing down.

Sometimes, you got someone fuckable like Min Yoongi.

“Do you think you’re in charge here, Yoongi?” you murmured dangerously.

He ticked his head.

“I’m usually in charge everywhere I go,” he chuckled. Deep, husky voice edged with amusement. “It’s very tiring being the king and the boss all the time.”

Slow blink, piercing gaze on you with a wry smile.

“I would like to have a break from that.”

You sucked in a breath.

Min Yoongi was more than fuckable.

He was going to get fucked, tonight, by you.

You closed the distance, swiping the flared end of the crop against his lips, pressing inward, taking in his smooth fair skin, his even breath, his calm demeanor, and suddenly you wanted to mess it up, you wanted to tear down this placid façade and find what was underneath, find the passion and desire you could see shimmering in those dark brown orbs, challenging you to draw it out.

“Do you understand the position you’re in, Min Yoongi?”

He chuckled, voice low and smooth.

“Little birdie and her two shadows, I understand very well and I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

Damn.

He was good.

You tossed the leather crop to the floor and captured his lips, inhaling his cologne and his scent.

Yoongi did not move his arms, devouring your lips, hungry and intense, deft tongue flickering, testing the boundaries, and you pushed your tongue into his mouth, winding with his, hot and fluid and lustful, your hands sliding up his chest and reaching his shoulders, fingers one by one falling into place, sliding your lower body up to his, sucking in his breath, heat to hardness, your body heavier from all the jewels, but Yoongi seemed unbothered, deepening the kiss and sucking on your tongue, humming contentedly.

Even though he said he wanted a break, old habits were even harder to break.

You broke the kiss forcefully, the immaculate waves of your hair tumbling down your shoulder, seeing the red lipstick smeared on those shapely, smirking lips, his eyes drifting to yours.

You lowered your arms, slowly curving your hand, pulling back your arms in one smooth arc, fingers splayed, shoulders back. Measured, slow breath, always on form, every movement a performance. He watched closely as you reached back, unhooking and unlacing the tailfeather skirt with expert precision, keeping eye contact. You didn’t need to look to undo it.

You didn’t need to look when you released it, knowing one of your bodyguards had already stepped forward to catch it, retreating to place it aside.

Yoongi smiled, dark eyes gleaming.

“An agile little birdie, I see.”

He did not need to verbalize your beauty or attractiveness.

You could see it in the way he looked at you.

Startling how lucky you were to have met such fuckable young money tonight.

You placed a gloved hand on his chest and slid one leg back, then the other, red soles clicking, tracing down his torso, kneeling now, dancing fingertips up and down his thighs, admiring them and letting him know with your gaze. Black hair over one eye again, small smile on his lips, and yet you noticed the pink tinge on his ears.

Interesting.

You retreated your hand.

Brought it to your lips.

One by one, tugging at the tips of each finger with your teeth, loosening the glove.

Dark brown orbs watched you, entranced and fascinated.

Gripping the middle finger with your other hand, tugging on the opera glove, sliding it off with one swift arc of your arm, bringing your hand behind your head as it came off, tossing the glove aside carelessly. Yoongi couldn’t see, but your hand was poised behind your head, always aware of even the unseen details, bringing the other glove to your lips and doing the same, one by one, loosening the tightness before your hand flourished out from behind your head and your arm mirrored the previous arc, into the air and behind your head, throwing the discarded glove in the opposite direction of the first. Yoongi watched with patient, precise interest, like a cat observing a bird.

He smiled appreciatively, enjoying the show.

It seemed precious, Yoongi’s smile.

A strange thought.

Painted red nails gliding up his thighs, following the shape, tracing the waistband, parted lips smeared with lipstick, the tremble of his body finally evident and, with a tight inhale, you realized you too were breathing shallowly, matching him, looking up to see his pupils dilating, his hands still behind his back.

Your index finger traced the fastening of his slacks.

Yoongi raised a dark eyebrow, questioning.

You undid it while staring at his face.

Lowered the zipper, having to lift it because of his straining erection, seeing Yoongi clench his jaw, legs tensing, shoulders shaking, watching your face, hands, the diamonds laden on your collarbones and cleavage, equally embellished bra and panties covering everything else, but it was impossible to deny, incapable to resist, inescapable sensuality between you and Yoongi, a stranger until tonight, a shadow in the crowd until this moment, now well defined by light and lust, raising his hips so you could lower his pants and boxer briefs to his knees, sitting in a heavy ornate chair in a private room with your bodyguards right behind you as you lowered your head and your lipstick-covered lips to his thigh.

Red kisses imprinted on that fair skin, shudders under your breath.

Travelling up to his hard length, tongue slipping out, tracing a fat stripe over hot, taut skin, your satisfied sigh melding with his soft hiss at the contact of your wet muscle to his hard, twitching cock.

You drifted your gaze back up to his, lazy and purposeful.

Yoongi looked down at the red lipstick kisses and his cock quivering against your warm breath, leisurely lapping at the underside of his length. His voice was a low octave, almost raspy.

“Little birdie…”

The first time he said it, it had been borderline mocking, but now there was a fondness to it. Admiration. Appreciation. Adoration.

It made your core burn and heat spread all over your lower belly, dripping between your legs.

Black hair over his eyes, breathing hard, maintaining eye contact.

“Please.”

Simple.

Effective.

Sexy.

You closed your mouth around the head of his cock, tongue lapping the underside, his scent invading your nose and your lipstick coating his skin, your fingers lacing over his hips, sliding that thick length down your tongue and into your throat, his soft moan drifting from his. He was losing control of his hands, slamming them down onto the seat of the chair and clutching the sides, manicured fingers tense, knuckles white. You tilted your head and ran the head against the curve of your teeth, heartbeat racing as you witnessed Yoongi gasping at the sensation, his broad shoulders flexing, his hips trembling in your grip, struggling to stay still.

Losing control.

Maybe he didn’t spend his money poorly after all.

You ticked an eyebrow and adjusted your head again, tongue extending past your lips, suffocating your throat with the swollen tip and cutting off your air, curling your tongue around his balls, scooping them up and pressing them to your lips, dripping saliva onto the seat, eyes on his the entire time, choking yourself on his cock and licking his balls with a blazing, intense stare. No need to say who was in charge because you knew it and he knew it, growling deep in his chest, shivering in his designer clothes from primal desire that required no such things.

You were the same, diamonds or not.

Lust feeding off lust, money or not, you probably would have fucked Yoongi regardless and you could see it in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing.

You pulled back and began your pace, swallowing his length hungrily, tongue all over the base of the head, stimulating the thin skin and his sensitive nerves, his breathing turning into involuntarily gasps.

Faster.

Rougher.

Tighter.

Finding that sweet spot, that moment where his expression changed and his irises were overtaken by black, mouth open and panting, locking his shoulders and his hips, feeling him throb in your constricting mouth, just a little tighter to prolong his orgasm, making it a little more difficult so he had to chase it, his handsome face wincing, black strands fallen over his eyes, his body humming with energy and arousal, so close, you could see it, smell it, hear it, his suppressed hisses and darting eyes, taking in the whole image, your back, the curve of your ass, your hands on his thighs, fingers splayed out, your mouth on him, taking him there, there, earning his wanton moans and fluttering lashes, twitching hardness and then he threw his head back, neck straining against his buttoned collar, a perfect image, his hips bucking up, lost control, spilling into your throat with a sinful gasp, his chest prominent against the silk shirt and vest, begging to be freed from its confines.

You swallowed it all, savoring his strong taste, delicious as his body.

He lowered his head slowly, panting, his previously neatly combed hair messy now, cheekbones glowing with a faint sheen of sweat.

You licked him off just as slowly, finding his dark brown, cat-like eyes once more.

Yoongi smiled at you, cocking an eyebrow.

Your bodyguards would probably prefer you to stop here, but you had other plans.

You popped your mouth off, a drip of saliva snapping against your chin, rising, poised on red soles and leaning down, capturing that waiting smirk, one of your hands lifting to toy with the buttons on his vest. First undoing one. Then one more.

“Touch me,” you whispered.

Yoongi’s hands flew up and gripped your waist, promising all night.

Tonight was going to fun.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut

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rinstars · 3 years

Text

holiday juice

pairing: suna x reader

genre: just pure holiday smut heh

word count: 1.6k+

tags: slight somnophilia(?), praise + degradation, squirting, orgasm denial, overstimulation, size kink, daddy kink

note: please reblog! i wrote this on a whim oopsie so it’s not that good but nevertheless, merry christmas and happy holidays! here’s a little gift from suna <3

masterlist

you woke up before he did, making you look over to him for a moment, memorizing his pretty sleeping face. the sheet covering your naked bodies is so thin that the outline of his cock is so visible, making you shudder in desire. your fingers reached up to trace gentle lines on his face – tracing his beautiful eyes, sharp nose, strong jaw.

he looks so pure and sweet like this. nothing like the suna you had last night, pinning you so hard into the bed by the waist, making a bruise form from where his fingers had been. his eyes turning into an animalistic glare as he pounds his cum back into your pussy to prevent it from leaking out.

“don’t you fucking dare let a single drop slip out.” he threatens you, pretty slim hands wrapped loosely around your neck with hips moving at an incredible pace. “take me, fuck, baby, take it like you always do.”

“r-rin, i’m so full.” you whimper as you feel his seed fill you up to the brim. you internally curse yourself at the way you’re clenching so hard, making it even more difficult to keep the cum from leaking. he whispers a string of “no’s” as he continues fucking his cum into you.

suna grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him and his narrowing eyes. the way he’s looking at you with so much intensity make you cream even harder, gripping into his shoulders. you let out a cry of pain at how much he’s overstimulating your sensitive cunt but he just pushes your mouth open with his thumb and spit into it.

“don’t you dare fucking swallow.” he hisses with a glare but it was all too much with his fingers circling your clit. you arch into the bed and scream out, accidentally swallowing his spit in the process.

your eyes widened in fear as you pleaded with tears, “daddy, please, i-i’m sorry i didn’t mean it, a-ah it’s because you feel so good, daddy, please.”

your begging falls on deaf ears as suna pulls out of you all of a sudden and flipped you over in all fours, your ass up in the air.

he doesn’t slam back into you like you hoped he would. instead, he takes his time looking at your wet pussy from the new found angle. his finger running up and down your folds, collecting your moisture and spreading it around your inner thighs, makingit glisten. “so wet, so sloppy. fuck, princess, you’re taking daddy’s fat cock so well, huh?”

you push your behind in an attempt to get his fingers inside you but his other hand pushes you back by the hips, making you groan out in need. “hmm yes daddy, all for you. please take me, again, please.” you agree and beg with a choke in your voice as tears threaten to spill from your eyes at how difficult he’s being.

“so pretty begging like that.” his fingers snake around your waist, pulling you up to him so his chest is pressed against your back. he kissed your jaw from behind and caressed your breasts before pinching your hardened nipple, making you jump out in both pain and pleasure.

from the back, you feel him grab his cock again, teasing his tip back into your folds while you wait… but it doesn’t go beyond that. he just keeps teasing the crown of his cock into you, never filling you up with all of him.

“r-rin, please go all t-the way in.” you stutter as you try to turn your head to face him. his grip on your neck tightens, preventing you from moving your head in any direction.

“no, no, baby. you keep disobeying me, right? that’s all you get. you stay still and be my little cumdump.” he coos sarcastically, sucking on the skin behind your ear as he repeatedly teases you with the tip of his cock.

your tears didn’t stop the whole night. he really didn’t give in and teased you all the way to the end. he was the only one who got to cum, fulfilling his promise of making you his cumdump as you feel the stickiness travel down your thighs. when you sob at him and begged him to do you too, he ignores you and just tells you he’s too tired for another round.

“rin, i d-didn’t get to c-cum.” you pout at him, sobbing in the crook of his neck.

he just kissed your temples and murmured lazily in your ears. “pretty girl, that’s what happens to little sluts like you who can’t follow orders.”

he pulled away and looked at you with a smirk, eyes hooded and dropped in a lazy stare. he grabs your jaw and goes in for one last kiss for the night, his tongue forcing its way into yours. he bites your lips after a while, making you moan out in pleasure and attempt to climb onto his lap.

but he refuses you again.

“sleep, baby. that’s all you get from me.” was the last words he said before he pulled the covers over his body and signaled you to do the same.

you tear up at the memory. you wanted to feel his cock around you one more time last night but he just put you on the edge, never finishing you off.

as you stare at his resting cock beneath the sheets, you can make out image of the veins lining his length along with the head he used to tease you all night. your pussy can’t help but drip in arousal, making you reach below and grip his thick cock into your small hands.

he’s so long, so pretty, and so fat. your hands couldn’t wrap around it completely so you always had to use both hands.

you stroke it lightly and spit in your hands to give it more slick, feeling it slowly harden beneath your touch as the veins became more and more prominent and the tip turns into a red blush. you start pumping him slowly, hearing him whimper and squirm in his sleep.

you moan out at how hot he looks and you attempt to go faster. but a sudden strong grip on your wrist made you jump and halt. you looked up to see suna glaring at you with his foxy eyes. “what are you doing?”

you cower underneath his gaze, licking your lips in nervousness. “sorry i just.. i want you, daddy.”

you looked up at him through your lashes as leaned back on the bed, supporting your weight with your elbows while you spread your legs in front of him to show him your cunt. all glistening and sloppy from how wet you’ve been since the moment you woke up.

his eyes dropped to stare at your pussy and you don’t miss the way his cock twitched for a second and the hunger that flashed in his gaze. “this early in the morning? what a fucking cockslut for daddy.”

he held out his hand to you to pull you closer for a kiss. you took his hand and kissed him, sucking on his bottom lip as his fingers travel from your waist to your ass, spreading it open. you run a hand through his hair as you whisper some begging into his lips.

“rinnie, please fuck me?" you desperately ask as he smirks against your lips and tapped your hip, making you pull out from this kiss and lay on the bed beneath him.

he stared at your spasming cunt for a second, watching it clench into nothing as he strokes his cock with his fingers. my little cocksleeve, he thought as slammed into your pussy with so much force. his balls making a sound as it slapped into your ass over and over. you scream out at the feeling of his fat cock suddenly filling you up.

"t-too big. shit.” you squirm as tears line your eyes. you always needed a moment to adjust whenever he enters you for the first time, slowly making yourself comfortable as you struggle to accommodate his huge cock in your small cunt.

but this time, he slammed all of him into you all at once.

“fuckfuckfuck.” he groans into your neck as he slowly builds up his pace, stuffing you full of his cock. you can almost feel him in your stomach.

admittedly, rintaro was also very frustrated at how he wasn’t able to go all the way in for the last night at your last round. but watching your face contort in need for his cock with tears staining your blushing cheeks was so fun, he couldn’t help it.

you clung to suna pathetically, sweaty body pressed against his chest as your breast keeps bouncing up and down with how hard he’s slamming into you. his mouth is by your ear, whispering both praises and degradation ranging from “oh, you look so pretty like this baby, taking in my cock like the sweet girl you are” to “daddy’s little cockslut is so desperate for it, huh? begging for my cock so early in the morning like the dumb whore that you are.” and it’s all so overwhelming.

you feel a coil in your stomach, one that feels different from what you usually feel when you’re about to come undone beneath him. your body trembled from pleasure as suna reached between your bodies and repeatedly flicked your clit, abusing it till it’s all sore and red.

your pussy tightens around him, clenching him so hard like you don’t want to ever let him go. you can feel all of him now. every single vein rubbing in your walls, shaping you into the shape of his cock.

“baby, you’re too fucking t-tight.” he growled as he struggled to move in and out of you. “loosen up a little, fuck, i can’t… can’t move. shit.”

you try to loosen up a bit, try to relax. but it’s impossible when you feel his cock twitching inside you, signaling he’s as close as you are. suna drags his cock in and out of you with effort, making your walls clamp down for the last time as you feel an overwhelming surge of pleasure take all over.

you screamed his name, biting in his shoulders as you try to push him away. “rin, i-i’m gonna make a mess. i can’t take it, l-let go! ah, rin i’m gonna cum so messily, please, f-fuck.”

“yeah? then cum all over me, sweet girl. cum for me and make a mess.” he growled and bit your jaw one last time before he pulls away from you to stand upright and watch your pussy gush around him. your juices dripping all the way to his balls while his cock repeatedly gets coated in milky white cream.

with a squeal, your vision became blurry and your thighs shook as you let go and let your cum spray all over the both of you, wetting the sheets along with his chest. suna sloppily rocks into you a couple more times, chasing his high and then releasing a huge load into your hole, mixing it with your own juices.

“holy fuck, i just made you squirt you hard.” he spoke breathlessly, eyeing you with lustful eyes as he continues mindlessly rocking into you gently.

you giggled, reaching up to him for a hug. he lets you, leaning down so you can hug him by the neck as he peppers kisses all over your jaw. “you sure as hell did.”

he pulls away and lifted himself a little to look at you from above before pressing a soft kiss on your lips. you hum in satisfaction as you kiss him back, ignoring the uncomfortable stickiness you feel between your thighs as his cum slowly leaks from your cunt.

“merry christmas, baby.”

“merry christmas, rin.”

note: merry christmas and happy holidays :D requests are open (both nsfw and sfw) and you can ask to be tagged by sending me a little ask if u want!

#suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna smut #suna x reader #suna x you #rintarou smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you

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cursedsunoo · 3 years

Note

Hey so I don't know if you feel comfortable to write something about this topic but could you write txt reacting to their s/o suffering from borderline personality disorder? I know it may be a lil uncomfortable for you to write something like this so I can underdtand if you don't want to! But it would really brighten up my mood right now :( and btw I rly love your writing! :D ♡

🌐 TXT’S REACTION TO THEIR S/O BEING DIAGNOSED WITH BPD

♡ includes — txt

♡ warnings — severe mood swings, dissociative behaviour

♡ pronouns — they/them

♡ a/n — while normally i try to stay away from certain mental health topics due to my limited knowledge on them, i’m taking this as a way to learn more about it. that being said, this is based off of the research i’ve done online, so please speak up if i’ve made any mistakes at all!

#YEONJUN

♡ yeonjun wouldn’t really notice that anything was going on unless you told him — that being said however, he does grow both confused and concerned if you snap at him out of nowhere or fall into unhealthy habits suddenly. when he finally finds out that you suffer from bpd, yeonjun puts in a lot of effort to learn more about it as well as educating the people he’s around (the boys) — he wants both himself and the people around you to be aware of things and how to help you in anyway they can

#SOOBIN

♡ he’s very understanding when you tell him that you have bpd — albeit confused, but understanding overall. soobin, like yeonjun, goes out of his way to learn more about it — he does a lot of his own research online (soobin would watch those videos on youtube titled “a day in the life of someone with bpd” because he wants to see how different you may see and experience the world compared to him. soobin definitely tried to become more in tune with your emotions since bpd is healing influenced by them

#BEOMGYU

♡ i could see beomgyu being one of the most educated on the topic for some reason — while he doesn’t know every fact and symptom that it brings, he knows the basic outline of how it may affect someone. beomgyu is very in tune with your own emotions, but also has a tight grip on his own — the last thing he wants to do is snap on you for something you can’t really control, so if there was ever a time that he was getting frustrated with you, he’d just breathe a few times and try to regulate himself (he ultimately just wants to make sure you’re okay, and show you that he’s there no matter what)

#TAEHYUN

♡ knows very little about bpd, but is ready to learn with open ears. taehyun is always there to help ground you when the world seems to be going to fast for your brain to handle, and he’s always there with a calm face and gentle words even when you may be treating him harshly or trying to push him away. i can see him being one of the most mentally and physically understanding of the group — he gets when you need space, but will always hover slightly to make sure you’re not doing anything irrational, and makes a hard effort to help with your mood swings

#HUENINGKAI

♡ hueningkai is really confused at the start i’m not gonna lie — even after you explain to him the condition you have, what it entails, and what exactly he should expect from you, i think it takes awhile for it to properly click. when it does however, he’s so patient and understanding with you — he never rushes you, blames you, or lets his own emotions show (no matter how strong they are) just so he can be of help to you in anyway. heuningkai assures you a lot that he’s there every step of the way with you, and that nothing can push him away from you

#ɞ — txt #ɞ — yeonjun #ɞ — soobin #ɞ — beomgyu #ɞ — taehyun #ɞ — hueningkai #txt x reader #txt imagine #txt scenarios #txt reactions #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader

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kosmosguk · 4 years

Text

Lineage (M)

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 6.7K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Warnings: HEAVY yandere themes, mentions of gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, dubcon smut (reader is a virgin, fingering, unprotected sex), 18+, explicit language

A/N: Part 1 of Lineage! Took 3 months, a messy outline, and 2 drafts that I decided I hated halfway through writing and deleted before starting over to finish one part. Tags of people who replied to the preview will be added in a reblog. Thank you for everyone who has been waiting and has shown support for the preview of Lineage and my writing account overall! This is inspired by the multitude of Korean webnovels I’ve been reading during quarantine. If you like it, please leave a comment because I will cry out of joy and this took me a WHILE to get out of the drafts. Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

‘‘Duke,’’ the king’s teeth chattered in terror as he spoke, his voice low. “What have you come to visit me for?”

Yoongi closed his eyes briefly as if he was in thought. Normally, he’d be furious at the lack of efficiency, but something stopped him from simply slicing the fool’s head off with his sword. After all, there was a much more important matter at hand that he needed to deal with.

‘‘My king, you do,’’ Yoongi spoke slowly,’’ remember our deal, don’t you? I win the war against the bordering kingdom and give you a considerable sum, and you…’’

Yoongi directed a pointed look at the king, and the king flinched before hurrying over to his desk. He fumbled around with the papers on it, even knocking down a stack of sealed and stamped documents with his shaking elbows, before extracting a small silver-framed portrait.

Yoongi could see the tremor in the man’s hands as he handed him the portrait, but Yoongi only exhaled softly, almost as if he was relieved, as he took hold of the small painted picture.

Pretty long-lashed eyes that warmly sparkled despite paint being the only medium used, curved lips like budding flowers, and silky tresses that swooped past her delicate shoulders. The maiden etched into the canvas was not known as a beauty compared to her extravagantly dressed older sisters, but to Yoongi, she was worth much more than the other princesses combined. Yoongi gripped the portrait a little tighter, his hands slightly clammy.

‘‘You wanted the 8th princess, Princess [Y/N], as your bride,’’ the ruler before him sputtered. “As soon as you’re ready, I will have the engagement officially announced.”

Yoongi broke out of his reverie and tucked the portrait into the pocket of his coat before getting up from his seat. ‘’Thank you, my King. I will never forget the kindness you have bestowed upon the House of Min.’’

As Yoongi was about to open the door, the king called out once again.

‘‘Duke Min, if I may ask, why do you have so much interest in the 8th princess? I would have never thought she would suit your preferences. If you wanted, you could have the crown princess. Her beauty is known even in distant lands, and she is skilled—”

Yoongi coldly smiled at the pathetically shivering man, interrupting him sharply,’’ Do not interfere in personal matters, my King. Long live the Sun of the Kingdom.’’

The door clicked shut behind him, and the king sagged further into his extravagantly plush ruby couch. For the first time in his greedy life, the king truly felt sympathy for the young princess he had just sold to the notoriously named Duke of Hell.

You kneaded the dough of the bread firmly down onto the table, flour sticking to the crevices in your palms. The harvest had been plentiful that year, although many of the lands surrounding the kingdom had been ravaged by war, and the small palace, which was more like a shack than anything else compared to the palaces of your older siblings, you had in the royal territory was fortunate enough to receive a small portion of the year’s yield.

You had to be quick about kneading the dough. The weather in the kingdom had been warming up as the seasons changed, and if you dawdled, the dough would stick to the table and you’d spend the next half hour trying to scrape it off the wooden surface. You could feel the sun’s warmth on your back, and you hummed a pleasant melody as you kept working.

There were footsteps outside of your palace, a sharp knock on the door, and you paused. It was strange; no one really visited your palace other than the occasional maid, and their visits had dwindled down to barely showing up after they realized how insignificant your position was in the palace. But the maids never knocked; they always burst in, throwing down a basket of food before running off without so much a word.

Could the person outside be lost?

You hastily grabbed a piece of fabric, tying it around your neck to obstruct the view of your collarbone; this had become a habit you developed when you had been taken to the palace in order to hide the strange mark on your clavicle. You hastily pushed open the door, your fingers still crusted with flour-covered dough. The person outside was dressed in the garbs of a messenger, but you noticed that he looked and acted much too elegant to be in the role of a servant; perhaps he had been more blessed with good looks and manners but had no fortune in status, you mused to yourself.

You must have looked more like a maid than a princess because the messenger in front of the door took one look at you and asked,’’ Could you bring me the 8th princess? I carry a message from the palace.”

You smiled pleasantly. “Sir, you’re speaking to her. Are you lost, perhaps? The crown princess’s palace is down the road, and if you take a left, you’ll be right there.’’

The messenger blinked in surprise, his mouth falling open slightly, and he practically trembled as he realized his mistake. “No, this is a message for you! I’m so sorry, Your Highness; please punish this lowly servant for making such a—!”

You shook your head good-naturedly; you were no tyrant after all, having been born more like your mother, a noble of lower class who, albeit poor, was much more noble than those of higher ranking, than your father, the king. That was a fact that you took pride in.

“What message do you come to bring me? No one quite visits this palace,’’ you questioned.

“Your Highness, the 8th Princess of this Kingdom, I pass a message from the Duke of the House of Min to you. Your marriage has been agreed upon by His Majesty, King [L/N]. The Duke requests that you move into his estate as soon as you can so the preparations for marriage can be efficiently arranged and completed,’’ the messenger spoke.

Your smile stiffened, the edges of your lips curved awkwardly as you took in the message with wide eyes. “My marriage?’’ you managed to keep the tremble away from your voice as you asked the question.

“The Duke himself has personally requested of the king that he be bestowed your hand in marriage, Your Highness. He expects you to be done packing anything you find essential from your home by the morning of tomorrow. The wedding will be held the day after you move into his home.’’

You nearly sputtered in shock at the words of the messenger drifted in one ear and out the other, barely registering properly in your incredulous mind. “The wedding?! Isn’t that too soon? The engagement period usually lasts for at least a few months!’’

The messenger tried to smile, as if comforting the shock-stricken you, and he slowly spoke, hesitating,’’ The duke values efficiency above all else. Might I be so bold to say something? Princess...I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the Duke. May they be either bad or good, please keep in mind one thing: you’ll be safe in his estate. He will protect you well. Good day, Your Highness. I wish you good fortune in your marriage to the Duke.’’

The messenger turned and was about to walk away when you called out,” Can I at least know your name?’’

The messenger turned back around, his eyes wide with surprise. Those of the nobility class never asked a lowly servant their name; names were symbols of rank in the upper classes, and thus the nobility did not care much about names when those names marked the identity of the lower classes. You were different from the other nobles. You looked and spoke just like her; no wonder the Duke was so fond of you.

“My name, Your Highness?’’ his voice hesitated as he spoke, his eyes wide in surprise,’’ Namjoon.’’

“Namjoon,’’ you breathed out, your lips that had been strained in an unnatural, forced smile spread into a genuine smile,’’ Thank you.’’

The nobility never thanked a servant, nor did they smile at them with such warmth. To a servant, a lack of punishment was enough.

Namjoon nodded and left your palace. When he was free from view of you and anyone else lurking around your palace, the ground underneath his feet turned an inky black, swirling like an abyss that was ready to swallow him up. Namjoon took one final glance at your palace, his previously dark eyes glowing an ominous red, and his lips that had been shyly smiling at you twisted into a smirk, flashing off two indents in his cheeks. He could see why the Duke, a man so devoid of warmth and humanity that he was a clear reflection of the demonic blood running in his veins, took such interest in you; you were interesting. Something about you drew him in; was it the kindness you showed, or was it just how hungry your smell made him feel? Whatever it was, Namjoon was sure of one thing: the Prophecy was to be fulfilled. Yoongi would make sure of it, after all.

Namjoon vanished from sight, swallowed up in the black that had dyed the soil in dark wisps of air, and the only trace of him left was a sharp acrid scent of smoke.

You closed the door, your hands trembling as you went back to kneading the bread dough. The warmth of the afternoon sun seemed like a chill on your back now as you prodded and shaped the dough into loaves. Since you were to leave the next morning, it seemed like a waste to bake bread; it wasn’t like you were to eat all of them by the time the dawn came. You would go into the city later after they finished baking and give them out; after your marriage to the duke, you were certain that you would receive no more chances to dress up in the garments of a maid and sneak out into the city.

It was unfortunate, was it not? To go from being the daughter of a lowly noble, one who had unfortunately caught the attention of a tyrannical king and ran away from him to the woods only to be caught and killed, to the forgotten but trapped 8th princess to something to be sold off for the selfish gain of another. You were like a lamb going to the slaughter, desperate to live but powerless.

The Duke was notorious for many things, the kinds of things that were gossiped by maids passing by your palace and left goosebumps prickled on your skin. He was a man who killed as easily as he found it to breathe, a man whose very name was used by the children as a way to scare each other. You were certain that you would be no exception to his murderous rage.

After you returned from the city, barely being able to take in the last wisps of life outside of the cage you had been forced in, and packed your remaining items into a small bag, you fell into an uneasy sleep. In your dream, you saw shadowy figures. They screamed and yelled, and you could only stand there as cold metal pierced your body through the collarbone. It hurt so much; it felt like agony ripping away at your skin, and you could feel your own blood rush down your weakening frame. You woke up before the day came to life, your body wracked in a cold sweat that left your eyes wide open in the pitch black of the night.

The carriage of the House of Duke came right as the light of dawn broke upon the horizon, sending splatters of rosy pink and gold light onto the sky’s canvas. You were drowned in the dappling shades of the new day as you handed the bag to the driver, who remained silent after a formal greeting. You took one final look at the building you had spent half of your life in, watching with unblinking eyes as the home that you had spent many lonely days in disappeared from view.

How were you supposed to feel? There was no jittery high of happiness that came from being married, something that was common throughout the romantic novels you had bought from the city; there was only a foreboding sense of doom. Would the Duke kill you once you stepped off the carriage, or would he enjoy the game of hunting and wait?

Although the House of Min had an estate in the capital of the Kingdom near the palace, the Duke preferred living a secluded life away from the tiring politics of the capital. You understood him on that. The ride was not long to the territory, however; the rich could afford paying to use the small portal stones to travel, which were remnants from the times that there had been magic and gods in the world. What would have been a trip lasting two weeks was narrowed down to a trip of 9 hours.

You arrived at the territory in the early afternoon, your body sore from having remained seating for such an extended period of time; you only had two breaks throughout the trip, one to empty your bladder and another to eat a small lunch at an inn. As you stepped from the carriage down to the ground in front of the manor, your mouth dropped in shock at the size of the Duke’s land. The wealth of the Duke was vast but to see it in person was astonishing. You recalled the trip through his territory; as the magical portal had been on the cusp of his territory and the outer lands, the trip to his estate from that magical portal had taken a solid 2 hours of your trip.

The land for just his estate was large; you could not see the edge of the estate’s land that you had previously entered in earlier. His main manor building loomed above you like a fortress, spiraling black buildings and shadowy crevices, and you felt a wave of anxiety rise in your throat. The manor of the Duke was more like a fortress with its sturdy, impenetrable walls and dark atmosphere. A chill ran down your spine, prickling goosebumps on your otherwise smooth skin, as your eyes scanned the buildings on the estate. There was only one word that could properly describe them: ominous.

Even the atmosphere of the maids lined up in front of you in greeting had you unconsciously tensing, your jaw clenched slightly. You could see their eyes; they were haunting in the way they were so devoid of emotion. You were familiar with how maids were like; they always had some form of emotion in their eyes: either a sickly sweetness as they itched for favor or a mocking expression that didn’t conceal their spite. You fought back a shiver when you heard them open their mouths, their voices in perfect unison as they spoke.

“Welcome, Your Highness, to the Estate of the House of Min. We look forward to serving you from now and into the future.’’

Three of the maids stepped forward, their steps aligned perfectly and their bows matching. They dipped their heads, and one of them spoke. She looked middle-aged, older than the other maids, but the look on her face matched theirs.

“We will be the main maids serving you. I am the head maid of the manor. As the future Duchess of the House of Min, everyone at the manor is at your service. The Duke will—.’’

She paused; you heard a crunching of something underfoot in the silence of the courtyard. Was it stone? The smile that you had forced on your face froze, uncomfortably stiff.

“Welcome, my fiancé,’’ you heard a voice call out. The voice unnerved you more than the expressionless looks on the maids had; it sounded cordial and low, pleasant to the ears even. If your ears had been untrained to the sounds of the nobility, you might even have mistaken it for affection, but you knew that there was no true emotion in the voice, or at least that’s what you assumed. No warm voice could make you feel so terrified after all. You, however, didn’t notice the brief look of shock in the staff in front of you; never, in the whole time they had been serving the Duke, had he sounded so gentle.

You looked toward the sound, your fear cleanly masked by your frozen smile; after being mocked by the queen, concubines, and their children as a child with lowly blood, you were good at training your expressions. The more you squirmed, the sicker the nobles’ expressions got, which is why you spent your later years at the palace hiding away in your palace, hoping that you would continue to be forgotten. The Duke was no exception to this; if you crumbled before him, he was sure to crush you under his polished shoe. You couldn’t die yet. You had not much to live for, that you admit, but the core essence of humanity was its desire to survive. To live.

The Duke stood before you. His demeanor was elegant, but you could sense an imposing aura radiating from him. He was good-looking, though; from the rumors you had heard from passing maids, you envisioned a hideous monster with sharp teeth and claws for hands who would rip out your throat for breathing too loudly. He looked like a statue delicately carved by an artist with his smooth, white skin, like alabaster and marble, and sharp, handsome features. His nose slanted gorgeously, his jawline was strong, and his lips were softly curved.

But the most distinct feature of his were his eyes. They were shaped elegantly, curving in a refined shape, but it was the color that left your feet glued to the ground. You had heard the rumors but seeing it in person was another ordeal. His eyes were a vibrant shade of crimson, the color of freshly spilled blood, and there was an eerie depth to them. They were, you recalled, the eyes of the devil. A chilling thought came to your mind as you stared into his eyes. They were the same color as the mark on your neck. You unconsciously tightened your fingertips around the scarf you had carefully looped around your neck.

“What has your mind so distracted?’’ the Duke smiled, but although you should have felt calmed by the sight, his smile unnerved you for some reason,’’ Everything has been properly arranged for our wedding tomorrow, if that is what you are scared of. If you desire, you may look over the plans and arrange it however you like.’’

The Duke had walked closer to you when you hadn’t been paying attention, and you flinched when he reached out towards you, his fingertips brushing the side of your cheek affectionately. Your heartbeat raced in your chest; however, instead of the giddy heart thrumming that was depicted in romantic novels, your heartbeat racing was purely because of anxiety. The presence of the Duke made you feel like a small prey in front of the menacing gaze of an apex predator. Would he snap your head off? Twist your delicate neck in his hands?

He took his touch away from your cheek as your thoughts raced, his fingers snagging into your scarf accidentally. The scarf fell down to the ground, and his eyes widened in glee slightly. Your hand flew to your clavicle, covering the mark there. You didn’t know why, but something in your gut told you to not let him near the mark. His eyes glowed for a split second, the color of a polished ruby glistening in light, before dimming back to their normal color; you blinked rapidly, wondering if you had imagined the change.

“My deepest apologizes, Your Highness. You must be exhausted from your trip. We don’t want you too tired for our wedding. Your maids will take you to the room you will be staying in tonight,’’ the Duke smiled politely once again, hesitantly stepping back, his composure poised,’’ I am looking forward to our union. Rest up. I have a meeting later, so unfortunately, we won’t be sharing a meal tonight.’’

He turned to leave, his eyes lingering on your collarbone, and you stayed glued to the ground, your hand still covering your mark. The head maid reached out with another scarf in her hands, and you took it, your fingers trembling slightly, before wrapping it around your neck. You knotted it two more times than usual this time, your eyes trained on the Duke’s retreating back.

You did not notice it at the time, your mind too busy wandering in your thoughts, but the previously emotionless expressions on the maids’ faces flickered with fear before quickly shifting back. As you turned your gaze back towards them, you mused to yourself once more. How odd was it that their expressions had not changed even once?

The room you were staying in was lovely; of course, that was to be expected from one of the top noble families in the kingdom, if not the whole land. Billowy drapes hung from vast windows, detailed gold embroidery sparkling in the brightening sunlight, and there were expensive pieces of furniture adorning the large room. The price of one of the candlesticks would be enough to cover the expenses of a peasant family for a year.

You had an unrestful sleep; nightmares plagued your dreams once again. They were more vivid this time, and you could still feel the agony of cold metal piercing through your soft flesh. The mark on your collarbone seemed to throb and burn against your skin, and you dragged your nails against it, trying to quell the itching sting. You somehow fell asleep once more, and when you woke up, the dreams had vanished from your mind, and the only remnants of your nightmares was a clammy coldness that lingered on your body and red lines on your mark from your nails.

You heard a knock on the door.

“Your Highness, may we come in? We will be preparing you for the wedding,’’ you recognized the voice of the head maid.

You inhaled a deep breath, trying to recover from your body’s cold sweat and slow the frantic pounding of your heart before calling out calmly,’’ Come in.’’

The maids came in, walking in calmly with their hands full of items.

The head maid was the one who had spoken outside, and as she walked near you, you held out a wary hand.

“If you are to serve me, I must know your name,’’ you spoke, trying to put on the dignified airs that was similar to the queen, or your stepmother, though you refused to refer to her with that title.

“My name, Your Highness?’’ the head maid looked taken aback, her eyes on the floor,’’ I’m sorry, but the names of servants are an insignificant thing to be known in this household. I only go by my position, here, as head maid. If you wish to know my name to have me punished, please just ask for the head maid to be punished.’’

You could tell that this was some unspoken rule and forced down the part of you that wished to rebel and find her name. If you were to pressure her over something so mild, unpleasant rumors would spring forth.

You followed their directions silently as they prepared you, and you ate small bites of the meal they had laid out when you had completed your morning routine. They then changed you into your wedding garment, tying up the corset around your torso so tightly that you could barely breathe when they were done. You could feel their gazes lingering on the mark you had on your collarbone; you were used to the looks, the mockery and the disdain, but their gazes were different. Was it curiosity? Hell, admiration? Or perhaps, fear?

Hours stretched and passed as they worked on your hair and makeup. Your scalp and skin were prodded at by them as they worked to prepare you. When they were finally done, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and was left breathless at your reflection.

Your hair had been coiled up in an elaborate up-do and decorated with sparkling hair pieces that weighed down your head. The dress was made by one of the capital’s top designers and fit you perfectly, as if the measurements of your body were known by the Duke’s Household down to a tee; it showed off your neck and the mark on your neck, and when you had asked to find something to cover the mark up, the maids shook their heads.

“The Duke wishes for this style of dress; unfortunately, nothing can be used to cover up your neck properly, and the dress can not be changed,’’ the head maid told you.

The dress, other than expose society’s stigma imprinted upon your flesh, was gorgeous. It was a pure white, sparkling with small pieces of carefully cut diamond, and tastefully accentuated by delicately beaded pearls. It wrapped around your torso and flared out into wide, layered skirts, a style that was extremely trendy in the capital. You looked stunning in the dress.

The maids had done extremely well on your makeup too; your skin glowed and was soft like a baby, and your lips were reddened to the color of cherries. Your cheeks were reddened as well, a blush delicately touching your cheeks. You looked ethereal, like a mystical being descending upon earth, though you embarrassingly believed that it was rather conceited of you to think that.

The head butler—you vaguely remembered him from the staff yesterday, although he had not spoken a word to you after the initial greeting—guided you to a carriage silently after politely greeting you, which led down to the church building in which you were to be married in.

Your fingers twisted in your fine white skirts as the rush of anxiety churned in your gut; you were grateful that your breakfast had been light, or else you would have hurled it all over the floor of the carriage.

You somehow managed to keep it together, even when you stepped down from the carriage. You even managed to keep your composure together as you walked towards the Duke, standing in front of the church, with the Kingdom’s Priest standing behind him. The church was filled to the brim with people, mostly nobles who vied for some connection with the Duke. You could even see the King in the front, watching you with eyes that told you not to mess your marriage up.

You even managed to keep it together underneath the burning sting of the Duke’s eyes as the Priest recited aloud the vows of marriage. You gazed back into the Duke’s eyes, watching the reflection of the sunset’s lights glow in their cold depths as the priest concluded the ceremony.

“May this couple’s union, placed together by the holy goddess of creation that had formed the earth, be a blessing upon the Kingdom.’’

You felt the mark on your collarbone throb slightly, a dull ache, but, in that moment, you had believed it to be a part of the bone-aching exhaustion that had settled deep into your body’s marrow.

The first duty of marriage was the consummation of it. You were aware of what went on, having ventured off into the city and gotten your hands onto romance novels that had their fair share of obscene scenes, but to be experiencing it firsthand, that was something that terrified you. The pain of having your virginity taken had been described in detail in the novels, and you could feel a pit of nerves form as the maids led you to get prepared for your first night as a married couple.

The maids bathed you, as the head maid crooned to you low in your ear the duty you were to fulfill. They rubbed fragrant rose oils into your skin, as the head maid repeated over and over the instructions and her condolences for the night, and dressed you in a nightgown—it was a soft, clear pink that scandalously showed off your figure—that was more like an undergarment than anything.

Then, the maids led you to the room you were to share with your husband. As the head maid was about to open the door, she spoke one last time,’’ Duchess, I have done my best to inform you of your first night. May the fortune of the goddess of creation bless you upon your first night as the Duke’s wife.’’

The room was dark when you stepped in, and it would have been pitch black had it not been for the wispy pale rays of moonlight glowing through the large glass windows. This room, through your adjusting vision, was certainly much more beautiful and elegant than the room you had used for your temporary one-night stay. You saw the Duke standing in front of one of the windows, his eyes on you, unnervingly unblinking. Although his gaze remained eerie, you could not deny the ethereal beauty that radiated off of him as he watched you with ruby eyes.

As you were admiring his looks, you noticed that he had taken steps forward before pausing before you. His eyes looked at yours before roaming your body, and you noticed that there was an almost carnal hunger glowing in his crimson-red eyes. He looked starving, and you realized, unconsciously wrapping your arms around your body, that you were the meal he was to satiate his hunger with.

You could not help but flinch when the Duke pulled you forward into his arms and kissed you, his lips harsh against your own as he stole your breath from your lungs. His teeth snagged into your bottom lip, digging into it. There was nothing gentle in the kiss; nothing sweet and romantically sentimental like what had been described in romance novels.

His hands, the palms roughened from his days on the battlefield, caressed your body, slipping underneath your night gown. You gasped breathlessly against his mouth at the cool touch on your warm body, a sound that was swallowed up by his lips as his tongue delved into your mouth, and you clung onto the thin fabric of his night clothes.

“D-duke,’’ you managed to breath out shakily when he finally broke away from this kiss. You were about to say something more, but the sight of your lips, bruised and swollen from the Duke’s harsh kiss caused his eyes to darken in lust.

“When you are with just me, call me Yoongi,’’ he rasped, and the sound of his voice near your ear caused pleasurable shivers to travel down your spine. You felt something wet between your legs, and your cheeks flushed in shyness, your eyes widening in embarrassment. That look of pure innocence seemed to cause something in the infamously cool-headed Duke to snap. Yoongi’s actions were more hurried as he practically tore the dainty dress from your body, and the breath in your chest was knocked out as you were thrown onto the large bed.

His touch felt like it was burning against your body as it touched you in intimate ways. You tried to block his touch anxiously, but he simply brushed off your hands as if you had no strength; against his overpowering strength, you were utterly weak. You closed your eyes anxiously when you felt him suck bruises into your neck and then on your breasts, leaving bite marks blooming on your quivering skin like roses on silk, but you felt a sharp ache in your jaw as he grabbed your chin harshly and lifted your head to face him.

“Look at me. I want you to witness your first night with me, my beloved wife.’’

His voice was sharp despite the pained rasp coating its tone, radiating with an authority so powerful that you found yourself snapping open your eyes to look at him in mute shock. In the dim lighting of the night, with only the ghosts of the moon to leave a sheen of waning light on his handsome face, the Duke—no, Yoongi—looked lethal.

Your mouth fell open in a wide o-shape when his touch brushed down your soft breasts to your stomach and then finally to the most intimate spot on your body. His index finger swirled around your bud, sparking little shocks down your spine before venturing lower. His first finger stretched your walls, going deep into the sacred garden that had been guarded since you had been born, and you could only pant helplessly. There was a buzz in your head, something heady that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, as Yoongi touched places deep within you.

He added another finger and the another, and your mind spun as your walls stretched and clung onto his fingers. You clutched onto his clothes tighter, holding your breath, as he explored your walls. He dragged his fingers out, his movements slow and gentle, before he slammed them viciously into you; you choked on a sound that was a mix between a gasp and a moan. He repeated the movements until you were writhing under his touch before pulling his fingers out of you. His fingers were drenched in a honey-like substance, and you, with your ears burning, watched as he sucked on his fingers.

“My beloved wife, my goddess,’’ Yoongi’s voice sounded ragged, as if he was about to fall apart, and his fingers, sticky with dried saliva and your essence, curled up under his garments and peeled them off,’’ I can’t wait any longer.’’

“W-wait,’’ you stuttered out pathetically as he pushed something firm but soft and undeniably hot against your garden. Yoongi paid no heed to your word as he pushed into your walls mercilessly without so much a pause, and your heart raced as you realized what was invading your innocence. There was a throbbing agony as he got deeper and deeper, a feeling that was much more painful than his fingers had been. You clung onto his shoulders when he finally stopped moving in, tears building up in your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. When the head maid and your romance novels had talked about the pain, they had described the pain as fleeting, a sharp pinch that faded away quickly. This was different; you could feel your lower regions burning in agony as they stretched and trembled around Yoongi’s length.

At the sight of your tears, the look on Yoongi’s face was practically feral. Without waiting for you to get accustomed to the feeling of your purity being torn apart, Yoongi pulled out and slammed back in, his hips setting a tormenting pace that made you squeal in pain.

“Please pull out; oh my God,’’ you gasped out, your nails digging into his skin,’’ It hurts, it hurts so bad.’’

Yoongi let out a grunt in response, his breath choppy as he forced his voice from his throat. “The pain will go away soon. If we don’t fulfill our first duty of marriage, then the marriage will be considered void by law. Do you want that? The next man the King marries you to…’’

Yoongi’s eyes turned deadly, as if the thought of another man even touching you set him on a murderous outrage, and you trembled at the idea. The next man would undeniably be a portly, greasy lower noble, who would take you as his concubine as your purity had already been taken by the Duke. Your future children would be spat on by those around them, an experience that you had gone through but would never wish on your children.

Yoongi spoke again, a question this time. “Will you endure the temporary pain, or will you refuse and endure a much more lasting pain as someone who lost her purity but did not fulfill her first duty?’’

You could feel him inside you, pulsing and twitching, and you swallowed your nerves. Although Yoongi had worded it as a choice, you knew it was not. It was anything but. You already knew the decision you had to take before he finished asking.

“Please,’’ you begged, softening your voice in order to incite some pity from this brute of a man,’’ Be more gentle?’’

His lips twisted into a carnivorous smile, something that caught you off guard and left you in a short daze, and his only answer was him pulling out of you before pushing back in. The pain was rough at first, but you could tell that the Duke had taken into consideration your plea, at least he did so at first. When the first pricks of pleasure sparked in your gut, your head slammed back and you moaned before panting out a shameless,’’ Duke, Yoongi, please, faster.’’

You looked ravishing in this state; marks littered on your soft skin, and your face in an arousing expression with your swollen lips parted open in shaky breaths and your eyes glazed in desire. You looked like the embodiment of sin itself against the pure white sheets of the bed. The constraints that Yoongi had placed on himself snapped, his hips slamming against you hard, an erotic sound of the clapping of skin echoing in the night, that left your skin feeling heated and flushed. You only mewled in response as he began to pound into your body. He was animalistic, the cold airs he had been encased in dropped as a rosy flush tinted his pale marble face. You felt like you were being intoxicated by the sensations of pleasure and sin.

He pushed in even deeper than before, and you felt an uncomfortable pain as his length pushed against your cervix. Your air left your lungs at the feeling, and your nails dug even further into the Duke’s broad shoulders, leaving drops of blood in its wake. The Duke didn’t even flinch at the pain, burying his head into your shoulder to let out an almost growl-like noise. You were so fucking tight; it was like you were squeezing around him, refusing to let him go.

You felt sensitive, your nerves heightened as the whirl of pleasure building in your gut climbed. Your eyes remained wide open, your dizzy mind remembering the Duke’s earlier command, and your back arched slightly as a wave of pleasure crashed into you. Your vision went blurry as you crashed into your first climax; you were coming, tightening around him so hard that your mind went completely blank.

You could feel Yoongi’s teeth sink into your collarbone, a flash of white digging into your red mark, and the pain coupled with the pleasure cascading onto your limp body caused you to let out a lewd choked moan. Yoongi slammed into you, his pace steady and stable as his breath grew more erratic, before he pushed deep into you, a groan pulling out deep from his chest. You felt something hot spill into the depths of your body, and your fingers and toes twitched at the feeling.

You were exhausted as he pulled out of you. He was still painfully hard, but you were so tired, and the lull of sleep was so tempting. Your vision blurred, and your eyes drooped shut as you fell into an unconscious state, ignoring the pulsing sting of your collarbone. The last thing you saw before you were swept up in a rush of sleep was a flash of red eyes, the look of them so vivid against the darkness of the deep night, and Yoongi licking off droplets of your blood off of his lips, his lips curved up in a menacing smile.

“Goodnight, my beloved wife,’’ Yoongi spoke out into the silence, his fingers reaching out to entwine themselves into strands of your hair,’’ May the dreams that reach you be a blessing.’’

He brought up a stand of your hair to his lips, his lips touching it tenderly.

“And may our marriage bring us both fortune beyond what humanity can perceive, my Goddess.’’

A/N: if you want to be tagged in the next part, please reply with a 👑! And if you liked the story, please leave a comment or a review! Thank you so much for being here for my writing journey :) I’ll do my best to keep improving.

Part 2

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