#i will one day live and breath period piece | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adonis-koo · 4 months

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wicked • 18

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 12k

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tags: oral (f), tiddie sucking…love kink?, teasing, vaginal fingering, begging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting (yeah…), soft dom!kook, loss of virginity, penetrative sex, it doesn’t fit, but only for a moment, size kink, possessiveness, multiple positions, slight spanking, corruption kink if you squint, creampies (wrap it before you tap it, condoms don’t exist in this au so…yknow)

Note: this chapter was not supposed to be so horny but the brain insisted 💅

Chapel bells could be heard, a somber cry of the hazy day ahead, you sniffled trying to get the smell of ash out of your nose, squinting as you glanced through the cracked tent, the sky tinted and hazy.

You didn’t remember the sun looking quite that color, it was distorted from normal, another bell chimed and you could hear the camp from even this distant, a crackle of the fire and a sob.

“Focus!” Baba Enàir slapped the stick in front of your desk making you jump.

“Sorry Baba.”

“You can say sorry to all the folks who rely on your hands to save their kin,” Her eyes glowered down at you, “As for me, you will do good and well to pay attention.”

Your lips twitched as you stared down at your desk, eyes slowly squinting into a glare before briefly glancing behind her once more towards the open flap of the tent where you watched the girls, hands all joined skipping in a circle.

“Why can’t I be excused?”

Baba Enair’s eyes followed yours as she sighed, perhaps taking pity on you, though if she did her eyes didn’t show it.

“You are the Princess of Eunoia, the people look to you for hope, not the court girls.” Baba Enair replied, “Your dryad blood allows you to heal in a way other girls cannot, that other people cannot. It isn’t fair, but it’s for the war, the amount of lives you can save alone compares to ten of the court girls. It’s imperative that your skill is honed. Now focus once more.”

You sighed, you had heard the same reason again and again, one day you hoped it would finally mean something to you though, today however, was not that day.

Regardless of how you felt, you stuck your hands back into the moon water, a small beautiful red fish, evidentially dying as it struggled to swim around.

You closed your eyes.

“Now start your three part breath, calm your mind.” Baba Enair instructed.

You took a deep breath from your stomach, slowly expanding it to your chest and then your throat, finally letting it exhale, after a few more breaths you began to speak.

“Ni esta- upon I cemen, eless- mama na- laiva,”

“Louder.” Baba Enair commanded.

“Let your coiv- mauime- celusse minna -yes’s eala-“ you winced as you yanked your hands from the water, the water boiling and your lips parting, feeling a piece of your heart crack at the fish, no longer swimming, but floating.

Your eyes watered as your lips trembled, you wanted him to have a peaceful passing, but all you caused was pain…

Baba Enair slapped the stick on your table, “You were too fast, too hasty! Rushing your studies will only make them last longer. Save your tears child, you will have much to cry for if you cannot even heal a fish.”

Your eyes only closed letting the tears stream down your face, the scene shifted, the tent no longer over you, but the sky above.

Thick with clouds of ash and the fire raged on, the sickening smell of death in the air, people groaning in agony and cries of mourning.

“How could you let him die you bitch! He was only a child!”

Your mouth was ajarred as you took an unsteady step back, “I’m- I’m sorry but I tried everything-“ the tent behind you being prepped for the fire, there laid a boy no older than four, a head wound that he had accidentally reopened when he fell down, attempting to play with his friend.

Blood was everywhere, even now covering your hands as tears gathered in your eyes, “I’m sorry.”

The older mother only glared as if you were nothing more than a speck of dirt under her shoe, “You’ve no right to cry!” She screamed out, reaching out as she grabbed your hair making you yelp, “You are no princess of this country! You are nothing! The dryads have abandoned your veins!”

Guards had already pulled her off but she made sure to shove you down, gravel digging into your palms as sharp jagged pain entered your body.

Tears dripped down your nose as you heard the woman scream and cry, throwing curse words your way only for her voice to be guided elsewhere as her son’s body was carried out of the tent.

Placed into a bag but it was evident he was in there, you glanced at the large bonfire, cowardly. You looked back at the ground, unable to watch them toss his body in.

You heard her wails and cries as the fire burned bright.

And suddenly, it was surrounding you, suffocating you as you cried out, the plead of a child, the skin melting from your hands and-

You gasped, sweat dripping from your body as you sat up in bed, wincing as if something of ash still lingered in your lungs, coughing you grabbed the water carafe from your nightstand, pouring a drink.

Leaning your back against your bed board, it was just a dream…you took a shaky breath, attempting to close your eyes,

‘blood covering your face, skin hanging and cartilage visible’

Your eyes shot back open upon being greeted with Di Jin’s dead face.

It had already been difficult to go to sleep, his cold dead face showing up every time you closed your eyes, or in your dreams once you had finally slept. Tonight had been different though, different difficulties deciding to present themselves this time.

All better forgotten nonetheless.

It had only been two days, and yet, it felt as if no time had passed at all, slowly you peeled the covers off yourself, shivering as you grabbed your nightgown cover, putting the long sleeve on as you walked to the door.

The room suddenly felt too closed in, too suffocating, you needed air.

Opening the door, you were greeted with your personal knight Yoongi, his injuries still healing, but he was doing far better than you.

When the unfortunate event of Di Jin and Seohyun showed up, Yoongi had shown up the morning after, bruised and battered, the entire operation of the tower being sieged a guise to bait him out and even better if it killed him, and worst of all it worked.

Well, the bit to draw him out, but evidently he was still very much alive.

“Your Highness?” Yoongi raised his brows a little, not surprised to see you up, but a little concern evident in his eyes.

“I wish to go for a walk.” Your voice was a quiet croak, shaky even.

“Of course.” Yoongi replied.

“Can it be…as if I were by myself?” Your lips turned into a small frown.

Yoongi gave you a weak smile, “You won’t even notice me.”

You nodded before walking past him, a little ways ahead before you could only assume he melded into the shadows, trailing behind unseen but still within a safe distance.

The corridors were empty, save for a few guards who bowed for you before giving you no grief, everyone looked at you differently though.

It was evident in their eyes, the way they all warily kept a distance.

Once upon a time, you had gotten used to your title, the Bitch of Eunoia.

But now they had all taken to calling you something different, something new, the Blood-Devoured Bitch. It was a hybrid name, both of Penumbrian and Eunoian background, sickening and yet flattering all the same, it suited you, you supposed.

Stepping out into the courtyard you innately shivered, ice cold air penetrated easily past your cover, wrapping your arms around yourself you took a big breath of air.

It’s crisp cool entered your lungs like new life, and for a moment you felt better.

Sitting down on the bench you curled into yourself, and suddenly the weight of your soul felt heavy again, you were so tired. A type of tired that sleep would not make go away.

Staring at the moon, you let its light be your only comfort, surely better days would come.

Jungkook couldn’t describe his level of worry for you, you had woken up physically fine, a minor wound to your chest where Di Jin had attempted to kill you. But you yourself were not fine.

You looked haunted, any food put in front of you was left untouched, and even if you did eat, you were unable to keep anything down.

Jungkook thought once Wheein was safe, things would get better. But it was clear to him this was hardly the case and what made it worse was you were isolating yourself now, refusing to talk to him or anyone else.

Wheein had desperately wanted to see you but Jungkook firmly sent her back to Skol demanding she take some time to herself, being in the dungeon for the last three weeks was no good for anybody mentally, especially her.

Meanwhile he was left to pick up the pieces of whatever had happened at the estate, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

He felt horrible, he wanted you to go to the estate because he thought it was safe, but as it turns out, he nearly sent you to your death. He hadn’t pushed the topic with you, left you alone if you didn’t respond.

He just wanted you to be okay, it pained him seeing you like this.

You felt unreachable, and it made him feel as if he was literally losing his mind.

But tonight was Sunday, the day the family gathered together for dinner, Jungkook’s hopes were low but he could only hope that you would show up, he was worried and even more so at a loss of what to do, or if he could do anything at all.

You killed Di Jin.

The Eunoian Princess, who had sworn an oath to never kill, who came from a pacifistic nation, who had divine dryad blood running through her veins, killed someone.

And Jungkook knew you wouldn’t listen to him, it mattered not that you did it in self defense, it didn’t change the fact that you still broke your oath. Dinner had been quiet, nobody talking and this was to be expected, after all, everyone almost murdered your hand maid, you almost died, and then not only killed Di Jin, the kings oldest and dearest friend, but also Seohyun, Jungkook’s old fiancé.

Guards had gone to the estate to clean up the mess only to find her mangled body, torn apart by a wolf- namely yours.

Perhaps it wasn't directly you, but it mattered not, you would still take the guilt.

The doors opened and Jungkook straightened in his seat, you gave a short courtesy before taking your seat next to him, your eyes looked sunken in and it was evident you hadn’t slept a single night.

Jungkook could feel it clawing at his chest with the urge to do something, anything, but he knew all too well this would be something you would have to reconcile with yourself, in your own time.

Dinner was quiet and his uncle and aunt only murmured conversation, Jungkook could only let out a quiet sigh as he lifted his goblet to his lips, wine almost never solved his problems but it did help him relax.

“Yes, apparently a wild pack of dogs attacked Vail yesterday,” Jeong Dae’s voice was quiet, Areum’s eyes on him as she took a sip of her wine.

Their voices were the only one’s at the table that have yet to talk, after all they had always managed to keep the conversation going in these awkward events.

You were twirling your soup in its bowl, having not attempted to eat, eyes strictly somewhere between the table and your food.

“Well there needs to be more guards posted in the outer district’s now that this whole assassin business is finished,” Areum replied, leaning back in her chair, “They had four fatality’s which could’ve been prevented with adequate soldiers number’s.”

“Or perhaps we just need better soldiers,” Jeong Dae mused, “Perhaps our War Matron should make her return.”

You finally gathered a spoonful of your soup, watching the steam rise from it’s surface before you pushed it into your mouth. Jungkook wasn’t trying to stare, but it was difficult to look away when you were having to force every drop of broth down.

Areum scoffed, “Unless war is on the horizon I would rather rot. There was only one guard there, and he was passing through on his patrol.”

You gathered another spoonful, looking at it once more as if having to mentally prepare yourself.

“Is a shame though,” Jeong Dae sighed, “It was an absolute mess when I arrived, blood everywhere, one of the poor lad’s had his throat ripped out-”

A loud cough cut off the conversation, all eyes on you as you grabbed your mouth, lurching in your seat as if attempting to not vomit, “Excuse me.” You didn’t even so much as wait for a reply, shoving yourself out of your chair and promptly exiting.

Jungkook was immediately pushing himself out of his chair, not even saying a word as he quickly followed after you. You probably didn’t want to see him, but he simply couldn’t stand watching you like this.

He needed to do something, anything.

“Y/n!” He called out as you rushed down the hall.

You shook your head as you took a sharp left, going down the stairs towards the cellar, Jungkook quickly stepping down the stairs as he called your name once more.

It was dark and only candles lit the air, dust could be seen if one got too close, walls of wine and dry goods stored as you turned the corner of a storage wall, weaving towards the very back where surely no one would go.

Jungkook quickly followed behind, turning the last corner of the storage wall before he sighed out, a dead end with you at the last wall, back still turned but your sobs evident, hands covering your eyes as you tried to regain your breath but struggling to do so.

It came out in choked wheezes as you coughed and gagged, struggling to calm yourself down, flashes of blood, images of flesh and gore, no matter how many times you washed out your mouth, you could still taste it.

Raw flesh going down your throat.

Jungkook finally stopped at your back, unable to find any words, he could only pull you to face him, and he hated it, how it always seemed your face was filled with tears more than smiles, “I can’t get it out!”

You felt like a helpless child all over again, unable to help yourself let alone anyone else, but you felt so lost, you didn’t know what to do, you had all of these new feelings, all of these new sins you had to carry.

You let out another sob as Jungkook pulled you in, and you could do nothing but collapse against him as you cried, “I can’t get the taste out! No matter- wh-what I eat, what I drink, I still taste it!”

Jungkook only soothing hushed you, pressing his lips on top of your head, “I know.” He ushered softly, “I’m sorry.”

His arms wrapped around you tighter as you cried, resting your head into his shoulder, after a few minutes passed you had finally managed to calm your breath into steady.

“I can’t go back, I can’t undo everything I’ve done, I don’t know what to do anymore,” You tried to not weep but the tears slowly began to trickle back down your cheeks as you lamented, “My whole life i’ve been told I’m supposed to save lives,”

You pressed your hands against his jacket, looking up at him, “So why is it, all I ever seem to do is take them?”

Jungkook tenderly cupped your cheeks in his hands, thumbing the tears away as he pressed his forehead against yours, “I can’t speak for all of your past doings, but I can speak for what happened at the estate, your survival was dependent on your ability to defend yourself. You were forced to do what anybody would do.”

You shook your head in remorse, closing your eyes as you stifled a sob, Jungkook tenderly stroking your cheeks as he continued, “Humans are instinctive creatures, though you are part dryad, it seems violence runs in your veins.”

You sniffled, “That’s terrifying! You should be terrified. Everyone looks at me differently now, certainly you do as well, I killed the woman who was supposed to be your wife!”

Jungkook sighed, tenderly tracing your jawline with those long fingers of his, “The only thing that truly terrified me? Was when you walked through those gates covered in blood, and I realized I had unknowingly sent you to your death, unable to be there for you, unable to protect you, failing as a husband. That terrifies me.”

Your lips trembled as Jungkook’s fingers traced down your neck to your collarbone, “But you? I told you to show me all of you, and that I would take you as you are, my words still stand.” His fingers trailed down the center of your chest, stopping at the covered wound, the mark where Di Jin had attempted to make his finishing blow.

“How could I be afraid of someone I love?” It was nothing louder than a whisper.

It caused your gut to wrench as you violently shook your head, “Don’t say that, please don’t say that Jungkook.” You immediately escaped his arms, every step you took back Jungkook closed the gap with another forward.

“I don’t expect it to be requited, you don’t have to say it back Y/n but I’ve went through all stages of grief about it, I can’t change it,” Jungkook wasn’t backing down though, “I am in love with you and everything I thought I knew about love, everything I thought I knew about women, feelings, all of it, you came into my life and taught me that I was a fool to ever assume as much. I love you.”

“Stop saying it! Please, you don’t mean that, please don’t say it so easily…”

Your back was pressed against the wall as you shook your head, Jungkook standing tall in front you, delicately leaning down, both his forearms on either side of you as he whispered, “I love you Y/n, and you will not dictate to me whether that is the truth or not. My love for you has been anything but easy, don’t discredit how I feel because I’m the first to admit it.”

“You can’t love me,” You whispered, eyes blurring once more as flashes of Seohyun’s mangled body appeared in your vision.

“Loving you is like loving the sun,” Jungkook replied softly, “Effortless, and if I’m meant to burn in its light, then I'd die happily in doing so. My precious sun, the light of my life. Let me love you, let me take care of you, let me protect you, let me never leave your side again.”

“Jungkook…”

“I failed you, let you leave my side, sent you to the estate. It’s ultimately my own fault, and I’ll spend the rest of my life redeeming myself for it. But please, don’t punish me anymore,” Jungkook’s eyes sombered, a sort of tender plea in them, “I can’t be apart from you anymore, I’ve tried to give you space, time to think, to heal, but just as you need me, I need you. I need you just like the moon needs the sun.”

You had no words, unable to speak, overwhelmed by so many different feelings, but one thing you knew for certain was that when you looked at Jungkook, you felt at home. You said nothing, only gently laying your forehead in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around him.

Trying to drown out the voices, the memories in his warmth, you were so terribly homesick, and Jungkook was surely your only remedy to this.

His arms wrapped around you in return, holding you tightly as he pressed a kiss against your head, “It’s selfish, but please, don’t deny me, love me, lay with me, we’re married, but I want you to be my wife.”

“Take me back to our bedroom.” You whispered to him, curling into his warmth as you shuddered, trying so hard to not let the vivid grotesque images back into your mind.

There was nothing quite like the warmth a bath could offer, steaming wafting from heat and dipping your body in made you realize just how chilled you had become throughout the day. Perhaps the best part was sitting perched in your husband’s lap, head laying on his shoulder as he tended to you.

The warmth of the washcloth running along your body, his hands that had easily taken tens if not hundreds of lives tenderly running through your hair as he washed you, he of course didn’t miss the opportunity to feather your neck in kisses.

“Is this okay?” He whispered in your ear, you nodded wanting nothing more than for him to keep making you forget, you didn’t want to remember anymore.

Jungkook was still tenderly cleaning you up, lips occasionally going back to your neck with a few gentle kisses and eventually after bathing you both settled in the water, just enjoying one another’s embrace.

His fingers tracing circles on your back before running down your waist, squeezing your ass for a moment before his hand would return back up your waist, touching you however he wanted, simply because he could.

It was a comforting gesture, but it was also evident how aroused you both were, every time his hand would dip under the water, it made your body just a little more excited, feeling his hand gripping your flesh tightly, making you shift a little and the first tiniest audible moan escaping your lips.

You could feel it briefly, his hardened cock resting against his chiseled abdomen, Jungkook’s lips pressed against your neck once more, this time suckling the skin as his other hand trailing down your waist before gripping the other side of your ass.

A soft moan escaped your lips, making your hips shift, nudging his cock once more making his lips suckle your skin a little harder, he released the skin after a moment, as if not wanting to mark it, “Let me make you feel good, my little sun.”

His fingers digging into your skin, his tongue dragging on your neck, “Please.” You ushered out a small moan.

Jungkook’s hand’s suddenly grabbed your waist, “Hold on,” He said and you didn’t understand for a moment until he suddenly picked you up, bringing you out of the water, grabbing one of the towels from off the stool he laid it out on the bed to not get it wet before dropping you down.

The fire crackled on, the only light source in the room, leaving it dark and warm, but the silhouette of Jungkook’s body was still very evident, his hard cock even more so as he stood tall in front of your figure.

You felt so small in comparison in this moment, but it didn’t last long as Jungkook leaned down, “You’re so perfect.” He whispered, lips pressing into yours as if he could sense your anxiousness, your body was so pliable though, having his hovering over you protectively. You moaned into the kiss, body relaxing as one of his hands found your thighs, pushing them apart tenderly as you opened them for him.

Your cunt was throbbing and wet, eager to be touched by him as Jungkook broke the kiss, letting his tongue drag down your throat and to your collarbone before he feathered more kisses, pausing at your breasts.

Jungkook couldn’t resist wrapping his lips around your left tit, this forced a moan from you, hips shifting in need as a hand steady them, as if telling you to be patient, he traded for your right tit next, moaning softly against your skin as if relishing in it.

“Jungkook…!” You whined softly, watching the explicit sight, your thighs spreading a little more in need.

Jungkook’s eyes almost glowed in the dark, that icy blue piercing gaze, hazy and filled with lust as he released your tit from his lips, a small lazy smirk tugging on his lips, “Yes, my love?”

It felt like knots were forming in your stomach, “Love me, you keep saying it, show me how it feels.”

Jungkook gave you a small smile, “You don’t need to ask me twice.” His lips pressed down your stomach and your body was reacting in all the ways he could hope as he made his way down to your hips, tenderly, slowly, licking up every reaction he got before he settled himself between your thighs.

Still he seemed to enjoy getting you worked up, lips pressing against your inner thigh making you squirm, your cunt dripping wet as you whined, “Jungkook!”

His tongue dragged just a little closer to where you wanted it, “What do we say when we want something?”

“Please…!”

Jungkook moaned softly as his tongue pressed against your cunt making you let out a moan of relief, his hot wet tongue mixing with your arousal as he pressed against your little opening before dragging it up your slit, right where you wanted it.

You moaned softly as his tongue pressed against your clit, you shifted onto your forearm, your other hand reaching down to bury in his wet dark locks of hair, his tongue swirling around the tender bud as pleasure shot through your body making your thighs open further for him.

His eyes closed as he moaned against your clit, wrapping his lips around it as if suckling something sweet, it made a sharp whine escape you as you yanked his hair hips lifting for him.

“Mm Jungkook.” You ushered out softly as his lips parted, tongue lathing against the little bud that had you squirming in pleasure.

“Relax my love,” Jungkook moaned into your cunt, “Let me make you cum as many times as you please.”

His fingers snuck down to your cunt as his lips wrapped back around your clit making you whine, his tongue having found a particularly sweet spot that had you grabbing his hair.

His fingers toyed with your little hole at first, letting them get nice and sticky from your arousal before he pushed a digit in, your body immediately reacted, walls clenching around him as a strangled whine left you.

His lips parted as his tongue lathed your clit, continuously flicking the sweet spot of your bud as you whimpered, your cunt throbbing in pleasure as his finger began to pump inside you, “Relax princess, I got you,” Jungkook’s lidded eyes met yours, and briefly you could see his finger, knuckle deep in your cunt.

As if noticing this as well a small smirk curled on his lip as he pulled it out, before gathering both his middle and ring finger, pushing it back inside you, it made you wince a little in discomfort, “Shh, give your body to me, I’ll take care of it my love,” Jungkook moaned softly, his cock was rock hard at watching you moan and wither beneath him in pleasure.

Your walls clenching tightly around his fingers as he thrusted them inside you, his lips tenderly pressing into your thigh to soothe you as your body slowly relaxed just as he said.

Your hips slowly lifted in sync with his as you whined, Jungkook buried himself back in your cunt once more, tongue lapping at your little clit, getting the exact reaction he had hoped.

A loud cry escape you, thighs suddenly wrapping around his head just the way he wanted them too, wanting to be suffocated by your cunt and nothing else, his fingers immediately began pumping rougher inside you as you whined unable to keep yourself supported anymore as you collapsed back against the bed.

“Koo! Mmm! Please Koo!” Your words were mumbled and whiny as his tongue viciously swirled and suckled your throbbing bud, his fingers suddenly lifting inside you as if in search for something.

Pleasure was becoming more consistent, more intense as Jungkook's moan vibrated against your clit and his fingers pushing all the way inside you as they lifted once more, the pleasure that suddenly snapped through your body was indescribable, a loud whimper escaping you.

His name came in shambled shorter variations as you whined and moaned, your walls rapidly squeezing around his fingers as he kept thrusting into the same spot again and again.

Jungkook kept lapping at your clit, finding that sweet spot once more as you withered beneath him, back arching as your mind blurred with pleasure, “Oh..! Oh god, please! Yes! Mmm!”

Your voice echoed throughout the bedroom loudly as fits of moans escaped your mouth, lips parted at just how good you felt, “Cum for me, cum all over my fingers sweetheart,” Jungkook moaned before his lips parted against your clit, lazily rubbing into that little spot as his fingers ruthlessly rubbed into that spot inside you.

And you did.

Your walls rapidly wrapped around his fingers as he kept shoving them inside you, his tongue attached to your bud, milking your orgasm as unholy noises escaped your lips, mixtures of thanks, of his name, cries to the empty sky.

It just kept going, the pleasure only heightened as you squealed out, hands digging into his hair as his tongue swirled over your clit, fingers refusing to stop as they hit that same spot inside you over and over again.

It had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your thighs trembling as you completely gave your body up to him, relaxing into the building sensation inside your cunt as your walls kept squeezing around his fingers, his tongue not stopping on your clit as he suckled it once more.

His tongue finding just the right spot as it all spiked once more, your moans were shaky and cried out as blind pleasure washed over you once more, cumming all over his fingers but not only that liquid suddenly spewing lewdly from your little hole.

“Fuuck,” Jungkook moaned, lifting your hips suddenly as his fingers abused your little entrance, hitting that spot over and over again as your body withered against him, “Such a good girl.”

His fingers finally pulled out of your cunt, your thighs trembling as he set you down, moaning as he kissed your thighs, hands dragging against your waist, “Fuck, I want you so bad sweetheart, wanna fill you up, wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

You were heaving deep breathes, trying to comprehend the pleasure you just experienced, you were hazy still as your hand tenderly combed through his hair, “Then do so…” You gazed at him, hazey and the darkness made it difficult to make out his expression, “You said you wanted me to be your wife, then make me your wife.”

Jungkook’s gaze shot up to you as you weakly smiled, “I want you to be my husband, but we’ve never consummated it. I want to.”

Jungkook moaned softly, his cock throbbing as he crawled up to you, arms hovering on either side of you as he stared down at you, “You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” You whispered, hands creeping up his neck and back to his hair once more, pulling him down for a kiss that he would never deny you.

Jungkook moaned softly into the kiss before he broke it, pressing a kiss against your neck, “It’ll hurt,” He whispered, “But I’ll make sure it doesn’t last long.”

Jungkook shifted you further up the bed as he sat on his knees, between your thighs as you parted them for him, feeling nervous, but you felt so safe with him, you wanted him, craved him. Jungkook’s fingers brushed over your cunt, puffy and wet as you shuddered.

His hand was soaked in your arousal as before he wrapped it around his cock, just as big and fat as you remembered. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he pumped his cock in his hand, it made you feel shy as you shifted beneath him.

“Are you sure?” He murmured, you nodded.

Grabbing your thighs he pulled you closer to him before he grabbed his cock once more, rubbing the fat weeping head of his cock against your cunt as you let out a shaky exhale, you knew he was big but…he was really big compared to you.

Just the size of his head was nearly as big as your cunt itself, “Jungkook I don’t…-”

“It’ll fit.” He reassured, a little amused, pulling the head of his cock to your little entrance before attempting to push it in.

You winced in pain as you shifted, you weren’t sure how you expected this to go, it really wasn’t something you had ever fantasized about. But the first attempt was lackluster due to the fact that he indeed was not getting it in.

Jungkook’s nose wrinkled, “Ugh fuck. Hold on,” He whispered, shifting a little more, setting your thighs a top of his a little more, lining his cock back up to your entrance as he pushed once more.

He pushed the fat head of his cock against your entrance once more, this time however, you let out a yelp, the sensation almost burning as you shifted in discomfort against him, “Ah…! Fuck that hurts.” You let out a weak whine, biting down on your lip hard.

And it did, all you could focus on was how much it ached and burned having your walls pushed open by something so large and foreign.

Jungkook leaned down, arms on either side of you as he pressed feathery kisses into your neck, “I’m sorry, my love,” His whisper was strained, “Just let yourself relax, it won’t last long.” He let out a slight shaky moan as he pushed himself just a little deeper inside you.

You tried to let yourself relax as much as possible, but your brows were still pinching together and it was difficult for it to not hurt when he was just really that big.

Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you making you sigh in relief, Jungkook pressed another comforting kiss against your neck as he pushed the head of his cock back inside, only this time, it wasn’t nearly as painful, a little discomfort of having something foreign inside your body.

But it wasn’t nearly as bad, Jungkook’s muscles were completely tensed and his breath was shaky as he buried his face into your neck with a moan, “Fuck sweetheart, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me.”

Jungkook his deep raspy words in your ear made your walls squeeze around him, making him push a little deeper inside you as you let out a soft whine, shifting your hips as if trying to take more of him.

Jungkook could feel this, immediately pushing his cock deeper inside you, “Oh my god,” He whispered, “Fucking perfect, perfect cunt, perfect body, perfect for me. Look at that little cunt, taking me so well.”

You whined at his hips thrusting a little, as if testing the water’s, “Koo…mmm!” Your eyes snapped shut at feeling his cock splitting your walls open, hitting all the right places.

Jungkook moaned as his hips slowly began to thrust, his cock still not fully inside you but with each thrust it got a little closer, “Feels so warm, so little, fuck, keep wrapping around me like that love.”

His shaft rubbed right into that sweet spot that had you moaning, legs wrapping around his waist, your cunt felt so full and yet wanted so much more, Jungkook’s hips were becoming a little faster, “Such a perfect cunt, mine. All mine.” There was a hint of possessiveness in his words.

Your hands dug in his hair, “All yours.” You whimpered out quietly as your body started jolting, his hips becoming rougher at the words, “Your cunt, yours.”

Jungkook let out a rough moan, deep and raw as if those words made him all hot and bothered, “Fuck yeah it is,” He suddenly growled in your ear, “You’re my fuckin’ wife, my cunt to play with, my cunt to make cum again and again. Mine.”

You suddenly whimpered at feeling his cock going deeper inside you, your eyes shutting as you moaned for him, knowing he wanted to hear them, knowing how much he liked to see you in pleasure, “Mmm! Like that.”

“Oh? Like this?” He smirked against your skin as he thrusted particularly harsh, his cock going deep inside you once more, your walls rapidly clenching around him as you moaned, nails dragging against his back.

“What about this?” He murmured in your ear, pushing his hips all the way until they met yours, his cock completely buried in your warm little cunt as you shakily moaned, eyes squeezing shut at how deep he was inside, how thick and fat his cock was, completely splitting open your walls.

“Mmm fuck, yeah.” You ushered softly, creaming all over his cock, arousal coating it as your walls squeezed around him, you had finally found heaven, it was Jungkook buried inside your cunt.

Jungkook moaned as well, feeling how tight your walls squeezed around him in pleasure, as if suddenly starved Jungkook grabbed your thigh, bringing it over his shoulder as his hips shifted, rapidly thrusting into you as you yelped in surprise.

But pleasure was immediately blooming side you, his shaft rubbing all the right spots, balls slapping against your skin as you whimpered for him, “Oh! Right there, yeah! Yes, god…!”

Jungkook moaned, “Fuck yeah, squeeze around me baby, know you wanna cum on it, cum all over this fat cock, gonna fill you up until your dripping.”

Your hips lifted with his, moaning at how good it felt, his cock roughly dragging in and out of you, pushing your walls open with each thrust, “Mmm wanna cum all over it.”

Jungkook moaned, thrusting particularly hard this time making you whine before he suddenly shifted, letting go of your thigh as he suddenly sat up right, but dragging you with him, his cock pulling out of you as you whined.

Thighs trembled and uncertain of this new position as Jungkook sat you in his lap, immediately grabbing his cock as he pushed it back inside you, except you were a little awkward, “Mm Koo I don’t-”

“Like this love.” Jungkook moaned, grabbing your hips as he lifted them, this new position made you feel him in an entirely new way, your lips parting as an involuntary moan escaped you, trying to mimick the way his hips guided you.

Sliding down his cock as you moaned, feeling how deep he was inside you, your walls rapidly clenched, Jungkook’s hands tightened around your ass, “Fuck yeah sweetheart, can feel you wrapping around it, cum.” His head suddenly dove down, lips parting on your right tit as he suckled it harshly making you cry out, walls clenching around him as you lowered your hips all the way down.

Your arousal dripping on his balls as he lifted you, fucking you on his cock as you whined pathetically, not of much use when he fucked you like this, his lips suckled your tit harshly once more, “Cum,” He growled, his hand suddenly smacking your right ass cheek making you yelp.

Your body however, loved that feeling of pain, your cunt squeezing around his cock as he roughly bounced you on it, “Like that? Like getting spanked sweetheart?” Jungkook grinned deviously, suddenly smacking your ass even harder, your body reacting to it as your walls clenched harder around him.

“Mmm! M’ gonna cum..Koo!” You whimpered out, all the sensations overwhelming you as Jungkook continued to bounce you on his cock, pushing you deeper on him as he smacked your ass once more, this time hitting just under the cheek, the pain mixed with the pleasure as you moaned loud, walls squeezing rapidly around his cock.

Your lips parted as you came all over his fat shaft, being bounced roughly as Jungkook moaned, “Fuck yeah, thats it princess,” Jungkook moaned, wrapping his around around your waist as he laid back on the bed, bring you with him a top as his hips lifted, rapidly thrusting up inside you, this orgasm was much deeper, more powerful as he continued to bottom out inside you making sure he was completely buried inside you.

“Fuck my love, that’s it.” Jungkook ushered a moan, you felt it before you heard it, something indescribably warm shooting deep inside your cunt, “Mm that’s it, take it like the good girl you are.”

You let out the tiniest whine, burying your head in his shoulder as he let out a deep sigh of contentment, relishing in his orgasm, how long had he imagined holding you like this?

His lips tugged into a lopsided smile as his eyes opened, looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world, as if in deep admiration, love.

You supposed that look in his eyes, could only be described adequate as love, “My goddess,” He mused, fingers trailing your face, his hand trailed down your side before grabbing your hand, the skin discolored in large patches.

Jungkook pressed his lips against the palm before tenderly planting a kiss on each finger, the gesture was so full of love it made your eyes fill with tears that did not shed, his lips pressed against your wrist, “The love of my life, I know I cannot change the past,”

Jungkook laid you both on your side as he wrapped his arm around you, “But we will get through this together.”

You weren’t sure what it was, the earnest look in his eyes, the pure devotion in his voice, but you believed him, you wholeheartedly believed him, “We will.” You whispered back, leaning in to press your lips against his.

It was filled with nothing but sweetness, tenderly pressing over yours as he let out a soft moan, his hand finding its home around your neck, not squeezing but simply holding it, “My wife.” He moaned against the kiss, “My beautiful wife. I don’t think there will ever be a day I don’t love you. Sleep, and if you wake, I’ll be here to hold you.”

Sleep did not come easily, Jungkook had managed to get you both under the warm covers, scaring off whatever little coldness that had tickled your skin, the last hour before he fell asleep had been silent, his fingers tracing circles against your back, enjoying one another's warmth.

You had eventually fell asleep but dreams you could not remember had plagued you back awake, your eyes were tired but you could see blue light streaming in from the window, it wouldn’t be long before your day would begin.

Still, you laid dozing off enjoying your Jungkook who hadn’t let go of you the whole time, skin to skin contact soothing, you had rolled onto your stomach, letting the weight of his body near on top of you soothe your eyes back shut.

Shifting a little to get comfortable this must have accidentally awoke him as you felt a gentle kiss press on your shoulder a sleepy groan escape his lips, “How long have you been awake?” He mumbled, his voice quiet, deeper and raspier than normal.

“...Not too long, I’ve woken up multiple times though.” You whispered, keeping your eyes shut as you felt his hand slowly stroke your waist.

You would never say it out loud, but you could definitely get use to being petted like this.

“You should’ve woke me up,” Jungkook pressed another kiss against your skin, this time your neck, “Let us lay together in silence.”

“We could be laying in silence right now.” You offered a tiny tired smile though you weren’t sure he could see it.

“We could.” Jungkook murmured, his lips pressing onto your neck once more, this time parting as his tongue tenderly lapped over your skin, the act itself made your breath hitch, body stirring as you tilted your head, letting him have more access to your skin.

You kept your eyes closed, allowing him to give you open mouthed kisses over your neck, not too long in each spot to be mindful of marking, his tongue delicately tracing over each patch just enough to tease.

It seemed he finally got what he wanted out of you, a tiny moan as he shifted you both, now spooning you, your bare ass promptly snug against his hard cock, his lips suckling the skin of your neck as his hand snaked over your waist, grabbing a handful of your tit as he pinched your nipple.

You whined as you rubbed back against him a little, this made his hand immediately grab your hip, squeezing it to stay still before it hooked over your thigh to lift it, your cunt glossy and wet, dried cum staying your thighs no doubt.

Your face felt hot and flush and suddenly the covers that had kept you warm were like an inferno, Jungkook shifted, grabbing his cock as he let his fat weeping head rub along your puffy slit.

A small breath escaped you as he rubbed it over your sensitive clit before back to your little entrance, and then pushing it in, your brows pinched together in discomfort, his size still big for your body to adjust too.

“Shhh,” He whispered against your neck, moaning softly as his hips started thrusting, his cock pushing further inside you as you whined, “Fuck, can’t believe this pussy is all mine,” Jungkook ushered quietly, “Mine to fuck, mine to love, mine to cum inside. Mine.”

You moaned against the pillow, your walls squeezing tight around his cock as he thrusted further inside you before pushing all the way in, his shaft rubbing just the right way inside you, “Mmm, Jungkook.” You moaned quietly.

You could feel his wicked smirk on your skin, hips suddenly thrusting rough up into you, his cock throbbing as his balls smacked against your skin, “Moan my name, only mine. Want everyone to hear, to know how good I fuck you.”

You bit down on your lip at his hips thrusting at a steady but rough pace, each time pulling almost out of you only to shove all the way back in, the fat head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you each time.

“That's right sweetheart, cream all over it, wanna feel this pretty little cunt cum all over my cock,” Jungkook moaned in your ear, that deep rasp in his voice had your clit throbbing and your walls wrapping around him as you whined.

Overwhelmed by how big he was, how good it felt you nearly cried out at the feeling of his cock pulling out of you, your muscles tensed as your eyes snapped open at being robbed of your pleasure.

Jungkook had a sleepy smirk on his face as he sat upright against the headboard, pulling the covers off to reveal his fat, proud cock, glossy with your arousal as he offered you a hand, “Come sit on your throne my goddess.”

Your body felt hot in all kinds of ways as you took his hand before slowly crawled to him, Jungkook however manhandled you to sit on his lap, your back pressing into his chest as he pried your thighs apart, the position was all too familiar as you whined.

“Jungkook…!”

“Remember what I said last time?” Jungkook pressed a long kiss against your neck, shifting you as he grabbed his cock, gleaming coated in your arousal as he pushed the head back inside you, an audible moan from you echoing in the room as you watched in arousal and horror at how much he was splitting your cunt.

Your body could do nothing but sink down on it, whines and whimpers escaping you once again at just how thick his cock was, finally meeting the base as your body rested against his, Jungkook however had different plans, grabbing your thighs to lift them a little as he suddenly starting thrusting.

His fast pace took you off guard as you gurgled a moan, eyes unable to look at anything except his cock pulling in and out of your cunt, covered in slick arousal as you felt his shaft squeezing past your soft warm walls each time, hitting up into your sweet spot that had you moaning.

“You like watching?” Jungkook grinned, a breathy moan escaping him as his chin rested on your shoulder, eyes hazy as he watched his cock push all the way inside you, “Like being made to take this big fat cock while being made to watch.”

Jungkook’s eyes squeezed shut at how hard your walls suddenly clenched around him, taking everything in him to not cum this very moment, “You’re so fucking little,” He groaned, fingers digging into your thighs, “Love feeling that pretty little cunt wrap around me, heh yeah like that fuuck.”

His fingers found your clit rubbing them as you yelped out, walls rapidly clenching around him in a feeling that he was quickly starting to familiarize himself with, it made his cock throb in pleasure as he lifted once more, shifting you both a little so you laid back more against his chest, thrusting harder and faster this time as he pressed your clit between his fingers.

“Mmph! Koo-! Fuck, ah! Yes! Oh god, like that, please! Please!” Moans escaped you incohesively, surrendering your body to him as he fucked you roughly, hips snapping up into yours, his cock stretching out your walls each time.

Jungkook’s fingers toyed with your throbbing clit, “Thats it, moan, let them know who’s taking care of this pretty pussy, who’s filling you up with cock right now,” His hips drilling into you as he watched his cock snap in and out of your cunt each time, “Look, watch.” He growled in your ear.

Your eyes opened as you moaned, your cunt puffy and wet, stretching for him with more ease now than before, Jungkook’s hips slowed down, “You like watching yourself get fucked?”

Your throat felt dry and your body hot as his hips sensually moved, slower, deeper, making sure you felt every thrust of his hips as his cock buried deep in your cunt, “Answer.”

“Yes,” You stammered, whining a little at his cock burying inside you once more but this time not pulling out immediately after, “Like watching.” You whined quietly.

Jungkook had a wicked grin on his lips, “You like it? Being fucked by the wicked prince?” His thrusts were short, keeping his cock as deep inside you as he could, your walls clenched at the short snapped sensation, “Like it when I cum deep inside this pretty virgin cunt of yours?”

Pleasure was building rapidly in your body, your walls squeezing tightly around him each time, watching his long thick fingers rub into your clit, finding that sweet little spot that had you gasping a whine.

“Yes, yeah, fuck, mmm! Fuck Koo, gonna…!” Your body was contorting as his cock pushed all the way inside you once more.

“I remember that little mouth of yours our wedding night, remember wanting nothing more then to bend you over and stuff you full of cock,” Jungkook moaned, hips becoming sloppy, thrusts uneven, some slow, some rough, “Fuck you so hard all you’d be able to do was thank me. But look at you now.”

Jungkook smiled against your shoulder, “My pretty wife letting me fuck her tiny little cunt, letting me ruin the little virgin dryad princess. Fuck yeah, that’s it, cum all over it my love. Cum all over this cock.”

You were moaning so loud, surely people out in the halls could hear, and it only turned Jungkook on further, his cock buried inside you with the need to make sure you kept moaning, needing others to hear, to know that you were his.

His thrusts were short, keeping buried deep in your cunt as his fingers kept rubbing into the sweet spot of your clit, your walls rapidly clenching around his base as he buried into you once more before you came.

Jungkook let out a loud moan as your walls squeezed him so tight he was unable to thrust, pleasure was contorting in every part of your body as you came all over his cock just as he wanted, your clit throbbing in pleasure as Jungkook tenderly rubbed into it, milking every last bit of pleasure he could.

“God I love the way your cunt wraps around me,” He murmured, eyes tightly shut at the sensation, what he had dreamed of for so long now, the feeling of your cunt squeezing tight around him, begging to be filled with his cum.

The feeling was still foreign, having something warm and slightly sting as it roped inside you, his hands squeezing your thighs tight as he came, moaning softly in your shoulder, you both were heaving breathes.

Jungkook pressed a flutter of light kisses against your neck, fingers tracing your thighs, is fingerprints still prominent in them, “So that’s what you meant…”

“Hm?” Jungkook hummed out, nose nudging your neck in a loving manner, his fingers tracing over the skin that was slowly discoloring.

“You…once told me bruising could be attractive, is this what you meant?” You whispered, voice raspy a little humored.

You could feel the tiny smile on your neck, “Maybe. Maybe not, do you find it attractive?”

“Do you?”

Jungkook’s fingers continued to trace over the marks, “When they’re mine,” He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, “They’re the most attractive.”

You had gotten distracted though, his cock slipping out of you and cum oozing from your entrance you squirmed in discomfort, your face felt warm at the lewd sight.

“Mmm, that’s even more attractive though,” Jungkook moaned softly, his index finger scooping it back up before pushing it back in making you squirm.

“Jungkook…!” You whined out, immediately closing your legs.

He chuckled as he pressed a kiss against your head, “Let me grab a washcloth and get you cleaned up.”

Jungkook shuffled you out of his lap before standing up with a groan, grabbing his undershort that had never gotten worn last night as he put them on, grabbing a washcloth from the stool, walking back over to bed where you had shuffled, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed as you sat naked on his bed.

It didn’t matter if you both had just finished laying together and his cum dripped between your thighs.

Jungkook looked down at you for a long moment before a smile curled on his lips, “Are you going to let me see?”

“I…can clean myself.” You replied flustered, unable to look at those pretty blue eyes of his.

“What kind of partner would I be if I made you do that?” Jungkook snorted, grabbing your legs as he pulled you closer, it made you squeak now at the edge of the bed.

You thighs parting only a little for him, but he had quickly made it more as he pulled them further apart, his tongue grazing his lips at the sight before the warm wet cloth dragged over your thighs, his hands were attentive and gentle as he cleaned you up.

Jungkook had gotten himself halfway dressed and had just gotten your slip on just in time for the timely knock on the door, Taehyun’s voice on the otherside.

Jungkook had allowed him to come in, bowing to you both before going to Jungkook’s wardrobe, “Would you like for me to send for a maid to help the Princess?” Taehyun asked, you could tell he had to have known something was up but obviously not about to ask.

“No,” Jungkook replied, leaving your side as he walked over to Taehyun, “I’ll help her get ready for the day.”

Taehyun said nothing more aside from going over the duties Jungkook would need to attend today as he got him dressed, you had fidgeted in bed, eyes glancing at the window as light began to filter in, brighter than usual.

You would be expected to carry out your duties today as well, the rebuilding of the market had slowed down since winter had approached and Jeong Dae had warned you the building would be very slow in the winter, but to be patient.

You also had to meet with a few noble houses today to discuss resources once more, just the idea exhausted you. It had been nearly a week since the incident and yet it felt as though a day hadn’t past.

You hadn’t even noticed when the door had been shut.

“You’re in your head again.” Jungkook frowned, staring down at you, fully dressed in black today.

“So much has happened since we married,” You frowned as you looked at the window once more, “It’s difficult to not these days.”

You parted your lips but no words came, uncertain of how to express your feelings, Jungkook patiently waited as he turned away from you walking to your wardrobe, most of your clothes had been taken out, but evidently he had somehow managed to keep most of your winter wardrobe here.

“I knew it would be difficult, when we married and I would move here, leaving my land behind. I had two years of mental preparation for what may happen,” You sighed softly as you glanced at your hands, flipping them over to look at your discolored palms, “I had mainly prepared myself to be killed here. And yet…somehow, it never occured to me that living might possibly be worse. That living and yet, unable to recognize myself, would be a thousand times worse than death.”

You felt alienated from yourself, perhaps deep down you always knew you were capable of murder, the rage so deep in your bones that certainly it would strike a god down, but to have done it?

To go against everything your nation stood for? The oath you had so proudly taken as a little girl, your mothers eyes beaming down at you with pride.

Jungkook set the material out on the bed he had gathered before kneeling down in front of you, gently taking your hands in his, “Or perhaps this is just another side of you, something different, something new, change is uncomfortable. Growth is painful. I remember my first time…”

Your eyes slowly moved, meeting his as he frowned, “I was nothing more than a child, holding a sword too big, he was a grown man. It was one of our drill sergeants in training, he had despised the Jeon name and had taken to treating me as nothing more then dirt beneath his boots.”

Jungkook sighed, “He had been ruthlessly sparring with me, going as far as kicking me into the ground well past my attempt of surrender. And then he stopped, and just stared at him before laughing, saying I was pathetic, that I’d never live a day in battle. And like that he just turned his back and walked away.”

Jungkook’s eyes dropped, “I don’t even know what possessed me, but he kept laughing as he called out to his little friend that he was done with the Jeon Scum, suddenly I had unsheathed the dagger in my hand and ran at him.”

“And?” You whispered out.

Jungkook shrugged, “I don’t remember much of it anymore, I’ve been told I stabbed him over fourteen times though, I was covered in blood by the end of it and I only remember crying in the bathtub while washing myself.”

Your heart painfully squeezed for him, he couldn’t have been older than ten? Nobody would ever be fit to kill, let alone a child, “Were there consequences?”

Jungkook shook his head, “Areum had given me a light slap on the wrist, extra watch duty, less rations, things of that nature. But being the prince gave me certain privilege,” He a bitter smile grew on his face, “I think that was the first time my father ever told me he was proud of me. Said I had great promise on the battlefield and that I was meant to rule.”

“You say it with such disdain.” You frowned.

Jungkook sighed as he stood up, grabbing the dress he had picked out for you, a purple dress with long thick velvet sleeves, the material was sheer and thin but he had grabbed a thick under slip to pair with it.

Jungkook pulled the slip over your head, “Do you want my honest words on it?”

“Of course I do.” You whispered out, eyes meeting his as he pulled the material down.

“I’ve never had the desire to rule,” Jungkook said it no more than a whisper, “I don’t want the crown, I don’t want to be king.” He ushered it as if it was a crime, but suddenly he looked a little relieved as if this was the first he had ever voiced it, “I don’t want those responsibilities that come with it…”

Jungkook held your dress in his hands as his brows furrowed, “...I don’t want to be like my father.”

He spoke it as if that was the underlying reason, you stood up in front of him before wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him, “You’re nothing like him.” You whispered out, his hands wrapping around you as he squeezed you tight, nose burying in your hair.

Jungkook broke away only a little as his forehead pressed against yours, “But then I think about you, crown on top of your head, the way you visit the outer districts, redistribute what's left that the royals waste, how you sacrificed something so sacred to you…” His hand grabbed your own, pulling it towards his lips as he pressed a kiss against your palm, “And I think about how you were made to be a queen, and if I were to rule by your side…then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Truthfully?” You whispered back, looking up at him with a soft smile, “It doesn’t matter to me, as long as I’m with you.”

Jungkook only smiled, fingers tracing your neck as he gave a flutter of kisses to the palm of your hand before he let go of you, grabbing the gown as he helped you change, tentatively lacing the back of your dress before turning you around.

A sort of satisfied look on his face as if he had made the right choice, “Leave your hair down today, it looks nice like this.”

“Jungkook…” You gave him a look, you felt incomplete if you didn’t have your hair braided or styled at all.

“Indulge me today.” Jungkook replied with a sort of saccharine dripping off his tongue you had never heard before, pulling the velvet gloves over your hands.

You hated how much he had so easily convinced you as you sighed, shaking your head, “Very well, anything else.”

He nodded walking to your jewelry box once more, “I didn’t say anything, but it didn’t mean that I didn’t notice.” Jungkook walked back over to you, gently grabbing your left hand lifting it up as he held out the large black ring, your wedding ring, “Wear it with pride.”

Jungkook slid it on your ring finger making you smile as you glanced down at it, you had worn it a few times in the past, but it felt different letting him put it on you.

Your lips slowly fell though, “...I’m not ready for today.” You whispered out, Jungkook had been completely taken you away from your sickening thoughts for the last twelve hours, and soon you would have to return to reality.

Jungkook frowned as his fingers traced along your neck, “It’ll be over soon my love.” He ushered quietly before leaning in, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips, your eyes closing as you leaned into his warm touch, fingers curling around your throat as you let out the softest moan.

Jungkook refused to let this go further though, letting his hand drop as he broke the kiss, “If the day gets hard, you know where to find me.”

Your day had become tones of gray, monotonous without having even realized it, your mind was elsewhere and nobles had looked at you with mixed reactions, some in fear, some in disgust. After all, they had all seen you, seen what you had done, what you were capable of.

You had been hold up in the library the last hour and a half though, reading up on some of the policies for building that had a headache beginning to turn up in your head.

Flipping the page you had went to drink your tea only to find it ice cold, the fire crackled at the far end of the library, but here in the nook you had found it towards the window was cold.

Time had passed more than you had realized when you found your husband standing at the front of the table, looking at you expectantly.

You glanced up from your book, “Are you finished with your duties already?” He usually worked later than this.

Jungkook’s nose wrinkled, “I’ve been done for over an hour, it’s nearing seven Y/n.”

Your eyes widened as you glanced out the window, realizing it was dark outside before you looked back at him, “I’m sorry I didn’t even realize…”

Jungkook rounded the table, fingers dragging to your book before shutting it, “Enough of burying yourself in work.”

You frowned before you glanced up at him, “Do you have something in mind for us then?”

“Dinner,” Jungkook replied with a tilt of his head, “But first come, we should check on Fenrir and…you’ll enjoy the walk.”

You took the hand he offered you before hooking onto his arm as you both walked down the hall, it was a quiet night but the glances maids and nobles alike didn’t surpass you, the looks never went away.

You tried your best to ignore them as you entered to the courtyard, lips parting as you both stepped out.

Large fluffy snowflakes fell from the sky, almost shimmering against firelight as they softly landed on the ground, small piles of powder already forming as you looked around, enchanted at the sight, “It’s snowing…!” Your lips twisted into a smile, “I’ve never seen snowflakes so large…”

Jungkook’s eyes softened on you as he smiled, “I figured so, it’s our first of many snowfall to come this winter. I thought you might like to see it.”

Jungkook had led you down to the stables but your eyes were still captivated by the sky, filled with little white puffs that gracefully landed onto the ground, a loud whine however brought you back as you frowned.

“Oh my sweet boy,” You ushered out softly at the sight of seeing Fenrir limp towards you, large tail wagging behind him as you reached out for his face, tenderly rubbing his snout before planting a kiss atop his head, “I’m sorry I haven’t visited you today.”

“I saw him this morning, I let him loose while watching the guards spar,” Jungkook said, “He’s healing, by the time we travel for Yule he’ll be good as new.”

He reached out, giving a firm pat to Fenrir’s side, “We’ll be taking him with us?” You glanced back at him in surprise.

“Wolves will be roaming for food no doubt by the time we leave, it would be most safe to have him with us to scare off any predators.” Jungkook replied with a nod, “...He’s also bound to you, the grief he’d give royal staff would be something I’d never hear the end of from my father.”

You gave him a guilty smile, “I wouldn’t want to part with him either.” Fenrir had managed to lick your face causing a quiet giggle to escape you as you leaned away from him, lovingly stroking his neck.

You had gone inside his pen to straighten out his blankets and to pull out one more thicker one, now that it was snowing you were certain the winter nights would be long and cold, you truly did wish the castle would let him stay inside.

After spending a few minutes with Fenrir you let out a soft sigh, wishing to not have to depart from him so soon, but your duties had kept you all day, and tomorrow would most likely not be much better.

Fenrir as if sensing this let out a whine, his ears flattening against his head and his tail fell, “Don’t look like that,” You whispered out, your heart aching for him as you rubbed his ears, “I’ll be back tomorrow, and maybe Jungkook will let you out again.”

“We’ll see,” Jungkook replied neutral, “Inside Fenrir.”

It was a soft command the Fenrir hesitated to listen too, “Inside.” Jungkook repeated more firm making the wolf whine once more as he went back into his pen, making circles before he laid down, another high pitched whine escaping him.

“I’ll be back soon.” You whispered before kissing his head once more, closing his gate as you tried to not let his whines make you sad.

Jungkook had extended his elbow out to you once more as you took it, sighing with a frown as you gave the pen one last look, “It’s only a day, he’ll survive.”

“I still don’t know why we can’t keep him in the castle…” Your words trailed off at the sight ahead.

A silvery cloaked figured and…Wheein, bundled up in a green cloak, cheeks rosy pink from the chill as you both paused, it hadn’t been fair that you hadn’t even gotten to see her since she had been trialed.

You had immediately left Jungkook’s side, “Wheein!”

Tears filling your eyes as she met you halfway, “Y/n! I’m so, so incredibly sorry!” She whispered out as you both embraced, tears of joy, tears of relief, you weren’t sure, but seeing her in person, being able to tightly hug her.

It had all suddenly rushed in your mind, that what you had committed, why you had done it, it wasn’t just for your own survival, but it was for the survival of someone else, your arms squeezed around her.

You broke away from her, grabbing her hands in our own as you both looked at one another, Wheein immediately noticing your tiredness, “Are you okay?” She whispered out.

“You were nearly executed, I should be asking you that.” You frowned.

“But you…” Wheein couldn’t bring herself to say the words, the silence loud as you looked away from her.

Your eyes dropped down to her own gloved hands before finally back at her, “You are alive, and so am I. I will be okay…with time.”

“You should be at home resting with your family Wheein.” Jungkook had decided to step into the conversation, words softly reprimanding.

“I couldn’t stay away any longer, not after everything that has happened. I owe you both my life, and I wanted to give my thanks for all you have done for me. As well as…” Wheein frowned disapprovingly as she turned to the cloaked figure.

Taehyung.

“I’ve heard about the ill-spoken words.” Wheein stared him down as she let go of her hands, taking a few steps back as she gestured the man over.

Taehyung frowned, scratching his cheek as he shuffled in front of you, “What I accused you of Princess…I cannot take back my words, but all I can do is ask for your forgiveness.”

You gaped as he dropped to one knee, bowing his head, “I spoke without thinking and let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Taehyung…” You whispered softly, true his words had wounded you but you couldn’t entirely blame him, you had no idea what would do if Jungkook was in such a similar situation, “While your words hurt, being upset like that is understandable. We were all afraid of what would happen, I would never hold it against you.”

“Stand up Taehyung,” Jungkook spoke, his eyes not quite as kind as yours but it seemed he had a similar line of thought, “While your words were border treason…” He trailed off, glancing down at you briefly, “If the love of my life was also on death's doors, there’s no telling the hell I would raise.

“Love of your life?” Wheein squeaked out, clearly embarrassed at the comparison, but it made a soft smile tug on your lips.

Taehyung bowed at this, “I won’t speak out of line again. I still hope to one day serve as your hand Your Highness.”

Jungkook snorted, “We’ll see about that. Now you need to escort Wheein back-”

“With all do respect,” Wheein spoke up, a small shy smile on her face, “I would like to return from my leave early, I would like nothing more then to be back in service to the Princess once more.”

Jungkook frowned disapprovingly but you had spoke before he did, “You are always welcomed to return Wheein, your company would be a light that I need right now.”

Jungkook sighed, “Very well, then return to your quarters for the night,” He began walking, pulling you along with him, “And we’ll see you in the morning.”

Snow fell quietly and you could hear the owls trill out, your heart feeling just a little more light, the road ahead would be only just as treacherous, but with Jungkook by your side, and the friends you had made.

You could only hope it would be enough.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook smut #prince!jungkook #prince!jungkook x reader #bts au #jungkook imagine

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strawberryvanillafrosting · 4 months

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limiting believes i got rid of AND YOU SHOULD DO TOO in order to manifest instantly

-> time

before i thought and probably your case too AND I HOPE THAT IT’S NOT ANYMORE that time had anything to do with the loa, manifesting and stuff. that the fakest shit i’ve ever head. literally all is based off your mind and your assumptions.who tf decided that manifesting a house should take months? when time doesn’t even exist. LIKE TELL ME WHERE TF IS THE LOGIC? like just sit there and think about it, time was human-made and the law is just the law, so why would you make the time a law? like why tf would you even just consider time ?j just think about an answer.the law isn’t logical itself so why would you even try to make it logical by putting it together with something thats considered logical? just ask yourself. why tf would my penthouse in new york would take months to get to me? whats the answer to that now?

FORGET ABOUT TIME, about deadlines or whatever stop counting days like you were in fucking jail. the only jail you’re in is you’re mind.

-> worth and « bigger » or « smaller » manifestations

nothing has value, you’re the one creating value and putting things on a pedestal. do you know what’s worth more between a 1$ and a 100$ ? if you say the 100$ you really understood nothing did you? it’s as easy to have the 100$ than the 1$ as it’s the same thing to manifest a big fat miami house or a small condo in tokyo and if you think otherwise you haven’t totally let go of those limitings believes yet. why do you think money has so much value? it really is a piece of paper with a print. would you give a piece of paper with a drawing of an old man any value? no. THEN STOP GIVING VALUE TO MONEY OR ANYTHING IN LIFE.you think you could attract a person you don’t care about but not your crush or you desired friends? when those persons are worth the same and as easy to get as the other? the second you consider that everything you want is absolutely worthless and as easy to get as the oxygen you’re breathing right now, you’ll manifest.

the second you’ll pull out this bullshit that we instill in your brain of « value, worth, bigger things, harder to get, longer to get » you’ll instantly get it. THE SECOND YOU’LL KNOW THESE WORTHLESS THINGS ARE ALREADY YOURS, YOU MANIFESTD IT!

MAINLY STOP PUTTING YOURSELF LIMITS!!!!! you control everything what’s stopping you from getting that penthouse you want so bad?? money? money is worthless and you can get it the amount of money you want so now what do you need more? go get you keys and enjoy it cause you literally already fucking have it. YOU’RE DIVINE how can you manage not to have a simple piece of paper that has the number « 100 » on it? how can you not get a place made with of wood and rocks and itself filled with more things that are made with wood and rocks ? how do you manage not get the love of a simple girl or boy? THE ANSWER IS YOU DON'T MANAGE NOT TO HAVE IT CAUSE YOU ALREADY DO.

PUT IN YOUR HEAD YOU ALREADY HAVE IT ALL. NOTHING ELSE EXISTS, NOT WORTH, VALUE, TIME, ALL THIS THINGS DOES NOT EXIST SO PLEASE PLEASE GET THOSE BULLSHIT LIMITING ASS HUMAN MADE CONCEPT OUT OF YOUR GENIUS BRAIN AND INSTANTLY GET ALL YOU WANT WITHOUT RESTRICTIONS WHATSOEVER

->3D delay

don’t put in your head that there will be a delay forget about that.focus on the fact that it gets instantly to you and that’s it. do not care about anything else. « oh i don’t have my results yet it'S probably 3D delay😞 » no. you already have it wtf is even a delay? the moment you decided to have it in your 4D you instantly got in your 3D period.

-> self victimising

STOP THIS. stop all the « it’s not manifesting why?? why everyone but me 🥺» please. you’re worth more than that. persist no matter what.stop slowing down your living in the end process. if you wanna feel sad about a situation, be sad, but don’t even start self-victimising. don’t eat up your feelings it leads to nothing good but always remind yourself that you have the knowledge that ppl out there don’t have access to. people dying or being in the worst situation ever dont even have any way to get out of it cause they don’t know but YOU? YOU KNOW THE TRUTH. YOU KNOW THE LAW. YOU KNOW YOUR LIMITLESS POWER. YOU CAN HAVE YOUR DREAM LIFE SO WHY SELF VICTIMISE? YOU AREADY GOT IT ALLL GIRLLL

btw that’s my first blog i hope it was inspiring🥰 and i dont tell you may all your manifestations come true cause they’re obviously already all true

#manifesting #law of assumption #neville goddard #self concept #limiting beliefs #manifesation #dream life #affirm and persist #loa success #master manifestor #loassumption

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frannyzooey · 6 months

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Short Days, Long Nights: 16

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Series Masterlist

Rating: Mature (some explicit mentions, tense situations, mentions of child starvation)

A/N: this chapter wouldn’t exist without @the-scandalorian and @bageldaddy , period. Literally walking me through it line by line, I could say a lot of really gushy things about them but I’ll refrain…just know, you two, that I could kiss you directly on the mouth. And will, when we meet someday. ❤️

—

A blanket hung to keep her in the shade, the sound of June’s babbling lifts into the air to join the soft give of roots snapping beneath the soil as you pull carrots from the garden. The distant splintering of dried out boards giving way occasionally cracks through the background, Joel grabbing another piece of rotted wood at the base of the shed and tearing it clean off, tossing it over with the rest he’s collected.

Brushing a drip of sweat away from your temple with your dirt-dried hand, you make a face at the gritty path you’ve left behind.

“You wanna go for a swim?” you coo over at June, her cheeks plumping into a corresponding wet grin when you smile at her.

Her bottom teeth coming in, drool pools around the carrot she’s gumming and slides down over her chubby grip, the edge of it glistening in her mouth.

You make faces at her, her dark eyes fixed on your face in bright delight until her attention catches something behind you, and you turn when she starts to crawl towards it.

“How are my girls doing?”

His shirt ringed with sweat and molded to his body, Joel blocks out the sun when you look up at him. His hand rakes through his dark curls, pushing the wet strands away from his forehead as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, the pulse in his throat thrumming fast under his flushed skin. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he lifts it to swipe it over his face and your eyes flash down, where even his torso looks wet: the dark hair that collects in a swirl around his belly button to lead down matted and damp.

He watches with amusement as June crawls over to his boot with unsteady movements, her face set with determination.

“Hey, baby girl.” His tiredness transforms into something softer when he greets her, his eyes crinkling deeply around the edges. A dimple catching under his beard, he bends to scoop her up from the ground, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I think I got enough over there to do somethin’ with. Definitely enough to board up that broken window in her room this afternoon.”

The glass broke while you were cleaning it: old age and the elements and a warped frame all contributing, and with the mosquitos being thick at night, she’d been sleeping in your room for the time being.

“I can fix that shelf in the pantry with one of ‘em,” he continues, “and if anything else, save the rest for burnin’ in the winter.”

A rotted shelf in the pantry breaking in half, the chair in the living room finally losing a leg, an area of the deck now off limits: exposed to the elements and after withstanding years of neglect, the cabin was having trouble standing up to the constant wear of its new inhabitants. Joel had been fixing things as they happened, but with a limited supply of resources, the plan to stay infinitely that you both made months ago was starting to fray.

The garden was going better than you could have expected, but the rest…the rest worried you. Running out of material to cut up and make do with, June’s clothing situation was beyond scarce. With the repetitive washing that everything had to stand up against, it was always fast to fall apart. Lucky that it was summer and so hot that she didn’t really need much, you had started to piece together things for the winter but there was only so much thread you could pull out of things, only so much you could fix and repurpose.

Joel felt the pinch too, in his own way. Voicing his frustration, he’d tell you how he would repair things if only he had the right materials, recounting to you the actual issue and the thought process behind fixing it. Even reminiscing about the hardware store days of past, he’d mentioned more than once the one right by his house that he liked to visit, the one with free popcorn for Sarah while he browsed.

With every item that broke and with every growth milestone that June reached, you could feel the encroaching pressure to make a choice: leave this place for the dangerous unknown, or stay and attempt to survive the dangers of isolation.

Either was a gamble, and so undecided, you kept fixing what you could, with what you had.

You eye the shed, your eyebrow lifting as you study the now sizable hole in the side.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about how we don’t really need the shed for anything, so if we need more wood, we can just chop the whole thing down. Right?”

You stand and he nods, using his forearm to swipe at more sweat that’s gathered along his hairline. Streaks of dirt and dust are smeared along the bare skin, and when June reaches out to grab at his face, he catches her hand and gives it a kiss.

You admire them for a moment: the taut muscle in his forearm underneath her bottom, the collection of gray hairs gathered at the edge of his jaw that she grabs at, his wayward curls that match her own. They smile at each other, her face diving into his chest just above the collar of his shirt, and he laughs, gently tickling her back.

When he catches you watching him, you think you’d see a faint blush creep over his cheeks if they weren’t flushed from the heat already.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you smile, turning to lead them down to the water.

You’re still smiling as he lays her out on the bank to get her undressed, watching his thick fingers brush against her cheeks just to chuckle at the way she chases them with an open mouth. Standing up with a soft groan, he strips down to his underwear.

Bare chested and tanned in front of you, his body is formidable without his clothing. Marred with the scars of survival and so familiar to you by now, he appears even bigger in comparison when he lifts June up. His large hand completely covers her dimpled bottom as they prepare to wade in, and his back facing you, your eyes run appreciatively down the broad slope.

Feeling your gaze, he smirks, and a glimmer of the confident, teasing Joel that’s been coaxed out of hiding peeks from beneath the surface. “See somethin’ you like?”

“There is something about when you hold her,” you admit. “You look so…big and strong.”

Rising on your tiptoes, you tuck your face into his neck to hide from the slight embarrassment you feel. Finding his sweat salt skin with your mouth, you give him a kiss and he hums in appreciation, the vibration of it felt against your lips when you give him another one.

“You really like it, huh.” More a smug statement than a question, his expression matches his tone when you pull back to look at him.

“I do,” you murmur, nosing along the edge of his jaw. “It makes me wanna have all your babies.”

Drunk on the heat of the afternoon sun and on your affection for him, you smile lazily up at him and he grins right back, winding his arm around your waist to keep you close.

“S’that right,” he murmurs, low and gravely. His voice slips through you and your pulse picks up, his humid breath ghosting across your lips. “All of ‘em, huh?”

You nod, and with hooded eyes, he grins.

“Don’t jinx us now, honey. Can’t be sayin’ that kinda stuff.”

His dark eyes make a slow, heated circuit down to your collarbones and back up, and arousal hooks behind your belly button fast and sharp.

Dragging his gaze from you, he turns his attention to June. “Besides, I think this squirrely girl is all we can handle right now, anyway.”

His shoulders swathed in sunlight, Joel wades in as you strip to join them. The water is crisp and cool against your skin when you slip in, and you submerge yourself for a moment before resurfacing closer to them.

Joel holds June around her back as he lets her float on the surface, water from her kicking legs flying up to cover his bare chest.

“You gonna be a swimmer? You gonna be a fish, baby?”

It’s easy to forget that the outside world exists when there is nothing but bird song and cicadas and the rippling water around you. No infection, no death, no fight for survival. Just Joel carefully scooping water to pour over June’s head, his soothing voice telling her to hold her breath as he ducks them under the surface, his practiced movements carefully transferring her into a one armed hold when you swim closer.

Tilting your chin up, you offer your wet mouth to him for a kiss.

His body is firm and warm against yours, your hand reaching to cup the curve of his jaw to deepen the press of your mouths together and the kiss pulls you in just like the current that wraps and molds your body close to his. Slipping your arms around his neck, you savor his taste until June lets out a soft cry.

Her wet fist rubbing at her eye, you reach to take her in for her afternoon nap. Emerging from the water, you feel the awakened heat in his gaze trained on your body all the way up to the cabin.

June is fast asleep in your room when he lays you out on the bed in the room next door, squeezing your bodies together on the twin-sized narrowness. His broad shoulders flex and shift under your knees, his river damp curls sliding through your hold as he licks you open, and when you arch into the wet heat of his mouth with a silent cry, he swallows everything you give him with a rumbled groan.

His skin is dry and smooth against yours when he fits his solid body between your legs, reaching down to guide himself into a place reserved just for him with slick, filling stretch and he murmurs his secret wants directly into your skin, a push inside you for each one.

“Wish you could have all my babies. Make you the prettiest momma.”

He breathes against the valley of your breasts, into the hollow under your ear, and against your mouth, just before he captures it with a kiss. His words dripping with reverence, you keen underneath him, arching your back to force him deeper.

“I wish I could too,” you softly moan. “I want it.”

Blatant hunger slips into his movements, harsh, filling punches of his hips bringing you up and over the edge, and your mouths stay together in a humid press until you feel him come, his need spilling thick along the inside of your thigh.

Afterwards, his sated body relaxes on top of yours.

Your fingers collect his curls in a rhythmic, soothing motion, following the timing of your chest rising and falling beneath his cheek. His breath puffs across your skin, and your eyes flutter shut, the heat of the afternoon lulling you to sleep.

Twitching lightly in his sleep, his hold on you tightens and the corner of your mouth lifts. His weighted body covering yours like a shield, a gentle breeze stirs the stagnant air around you, and a tendril of a thought slips through your sleepy mind.

Heaven.

–

Your fingers dance along the produce in the pantry, your lips moving silently as you keep count in your head. More food than you could have ever dreamed of when you first broached the plan, the produce now crowds out the canned goods, and shifting in your crouch, you let the sun into the small space, narrowing your eyes in focus.

The back door to the cabin bangs open, startling you, and June launches into a responding cry seconds later, just as Joel rounds the doorway. Before you can stand, he hooks his hand around your elbow, tugging you up.

“Go to the bedroom. Now.”

“What –”

“Someone’s comin’. I heard 'em’ in the woods. A couple of ‘em at least.”

Stomach bottoming out in immediate panic, you scramble up and head to your bedroom, scooping up June along the way. Bouncing her lightly in your arms to quell her cries, a cold sweat breaks out along your back, and crossing the hallway, you head for the predetermined snug spot in the corner next to the dresser, grabbing your gun from the top drawer.

“You stay until I tell you it’s safe, okay? Don’t move from this spot. You got your gun? It loaded?”

The serious, frantic edge to his words has you answering him immediately, your back pressing against the wall as you slide down into place. Giving you both one last look to ensure you’re where you need to be, he rounds the corner and disappears from sight, and you have to fight the lurch your body involuntarily makes in an effort to follow him.

You’ve practiced for this exact scenario multiple times, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. During practice, there is no cold terror at what could happen. During practice, it was easy to go through every movement with calm motions.

Now, you try to inhale deep, steady breaths in an attempt to slow down the pounding of your heart, knowing June will sense your unease.

“Shhh, baby. It’s okay. I know, I know. It’s okay.” Your voice comes out low and smooth, your shaking hand betraying your nerves as it rubs circles over her back.

Straining to hear over her hiccuping whimpers, you try to listen outside the bedroom.

Nothing, for what seems like ages, and then:

“STOP.”

Flinching when Joel’s voice breaks through, you shut your eyes tight, reflexively tightening your hold on June’s small body.

–

“Put your hands up.”

A lone woman emerging from the tree line halts mid step, reluctantly pulling her hand away from the pistol at her hip.

Weathered and weary looking, she looks almost frail in her slight build and Joel scans her for any more visible weapons. His own gun gripped tight with the butt of it against his shoulder, he slowly advances, his finger resting alongside the trigger.

“What do you want?”

“I was just passing by and I saw your cabin,” she calls out. “Thought I might see if anyone was home.”

“Bullshit. You can’t see this place from the road.”

A beat of weighted silence fills the grassy space between them, and the woman changes her story.

“Fine. We –”

“We? How many?”

Her eyebrow lifts, along with the corner of her mouth. Avoiding the question, she continues. “We saw your garden. Thought maybe we would help ourselves. Especially now, since it’s just you out here.” Direct and laced with the barest taunt, her tone implies the easy confidence of someone who has the upperhand.

Reluctantly shifting his gaze from her, he scans the trees, searching. A branch cracks somewhere within the woods, something shifting in the distance, and when he steps in the direction of it, she brings his attention back to her.

“It looked like you have enough to share.”

“We don’t.”

An instinctual reaction tied to his days as a raider, Joel’s mind digs deep for the old lines he used to say. Lie about your numbers. Lie.

“Don’t think about tryin’ anything’ either,” he asserts. “Heard you the second you walked onto this land. We got eyes on you from all sides.”

She lets her head fall to the side, frowning in skepticism. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

She takes a step forward, and Joel’s heart pounds in his chest, his face outwardly calm as his finger shifts to rest over the trigger.

“You got enough ammo to kill us all?” She tests the waters, taking another small step forward, but when Joel trains the barrel of his gun on her and presses forward, she stops.

“Listen.” Her face steels, hardening. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. You can let us take what we need and we’ll leave after that, or we can kill you and then take what we need. Your choice.”

His jaw ticks, anger rising in his chest. “You’re not takin’ a goddamn thing. Get the fuck out of here before –”

A faint cry pierces the air, and he freezes, the woman doing the same. Joel’s body goes rigid at the sound of June’s cry, the woman’s eyes widening, and she peers over his shoulder at the cabin.

June’s cries stutter for a moment before picking up in volume, and he pictures the exact face he knows she’s making. He knows that cry: an upset one that won’t settle any time soon. His heart lurches, an instinctual pull flooding through him to leave and soothe her.

He pulls up straight instead, adjusting his aim square at the woman’s face.

Her hands quickly raise higher, this time facing outwards in supplication. “Look, I didn’t know.” Gesturing towards the woods, her tone softens. “We have kids too. The food is for them.”

Before Joel can move, a horse emerges from between the trees. And then another, then another. Trying to keep them all in his sight, the group collects in the area in front of him; June’s cries growing louder in their pitch from inside the cabin.

“Please,” one of the riders says. A woman, with a small child seated in front of her in the saddle. “If you have anything –”

“I already said we don’t.”

The coldness in his statement dies as his eyes focus on the kid’s face. While the rest of the group has their eyes on Joel, the child isn’t paying attention to him and his gun. Their eyes are solely fixed around the back of the cabin and have been since they emerged from the woods. On the garden, just beyond.

“Please,” the rider begs one more time, quieter this time. “Please. We’ll take anything.”

Joel’s eyes linger on the kid’s slight frame, on the sunken rings underneath their eyes. Their face looks haunted, as if resigned to their hunger, and scolding himself for even wavering this long, he’s still thinking when the group's collective gaze shifts to something behind him.

A door opening, then closing.

Hearing the crunch of footsteps behind him, he sighs deeply, frustration evident in his disappointed tone.

“Go back inside.”

–

June quieted and left in the cabin, he burns next to you when you come to join him.

“I heard everything through the window,” you explain. “I figured if you haven’t shot by now, it would be safe to come out.”

A tension thrumming between your bodies in the air, you ignore the heat of his scolding stare.

“Kids, Joel.” The word is spoken to him like a plea, and his jaw ticks before you take a look at the group for yourself.

The first people you’ve seen in over a year.

Worse for the wear with the sallow features of the starved, they look less…intimidating than you expected them to be. None of them have that shifty, hardened edge that you’d come to recognize in the QZ, nor the menacing, cruel stare of the people you’d met on the road before. They don’t look like how you imagine the other intruder looked either, the one you still see in your nightmares sometimes.

Instead, they just look…tired. Hungry. The children seem dirty, but cared for. The mothers protect them in their slouched hold, the men remaining frozen under Joel’s command to stay still, his gun trained on the woman closest to him.

You picture the garden you heard them ask for: the basket of carrots still sitting in the sun, the squash vines spilling over the fence. You know they could kill you right here on the spot - but they don’t. They could have come in with guns drawn because you know they have them, but Instead they wait, trying to protect their kids.

“I’m not gonna say it again, honey,” Joel seethes, measured and low. “Go back inside.”

“We’ll trade you.”

A voice comes from a woman, clearly the leader of the group with the way they all keep glancing her way in silent deference, waiting. For someone staring down the barrel of a gun, she appears calm, her expression a practiced blank slate. Her age hard to determine due to the dust covering her skin, her voice is clear and measured, like she’s used to negotiating.

“You don’t look like you have anythin’ to trade,” Joel replies coolly.

Thinking of your dwindling supplies outside of food, you rest your hand on his arm. “What’ve you got?”

“What do you need?” she replies.

Joel’s head tilts in warning, his feet shifting to further solidify his stance. “Answer her question.”

Her eyes run down the length of you, taking in your measure for a moment. “Got some liquor if you want it.” She gestures towards a saddle bag with a tilt of her chin, but Joel is already shaking his head.

“Already got some.”

She quirks her eyebrow up. “Fine. Some medicine?”

“What kind?” you ask.

“Painkillers. Ibuprofen. Tylenol. Might help with –”

“Already got some of that too,” he cuts her off.

Sighing, the woman appears to think. Glancing at a man to the left of her, they have a silent conversation for a moment before she looks over at the garden. Staring at it for a moment, she brings her eyes back to you.

“What about a horse?”

Joel’s jaw tightens in distrust. “Like you’re just gonna give us a horse. How much food do you think you’re gonna get from us?”

She shrugs, ignoring his anger to focus directly on you. “It’s yours, if you give us enough food for all of us. Not just the kids. Respectfully, it looks like you have plenty. Certainly enough for two people and a baby.”

The assumption in her tone and the challenge in mentioning your true numbers makes Joel bristle, but the woman doesn’t back down. If anything, she straightens taller, rising to his unspoken challenge.

Tough and firm, she waits.

Leaning towards him, you lower your voice so only he can hear it. “I can give them some of the –”

He cuts you off with an immediate glare. “We need that food. You know it.”

“Yea, but we don’t need all of it. We have some to spare.”

He stares at you in stern, silent disagreement, and you continue. “I was just in the pantry. We can’t eat it all, Joel. I know what’s in there. Trust me. Those kids need to eat. They can have those carrots that I just picked, and –”

His eyes flit quickly back and forth between the group and your face, not wanting to keep his attention from them for too long.

“It’s a horse, Joel. A horse.”

He narrows his eyes at you, a war within them. You know he knows the value of what they are offering. Eventually, he relents.

“We ain’t givin’ up our fresh stuff. If we have anything – anything - it’s gonna be the old stuff.”

Thinking of the sallow child in the saddle, you silently challenge him, but he stays resolute in his expression.

“Fine,” you back down. “The old stuff.”

“Some of the old stuff. Not all of it.”

In agreement, you face the group again.

“Don’t move,” Joel instructs. Flicking his head in the direction of the cabin, he motions to you. “She can get you some things, and then you need to be on your way.”

“What about the horse?” the woman asks. “One of us has to move if you want it. Where should we tie it up?”

He thinks for a moment, keeping his gun trained on her. Picking a spot a ways away from the cabin, he jerks his chin towards it.

“Leave ‘em over there.”

–

Two faded floral pillowcases in your grip filled with what you could spare, you approach the group with careful and cautious steps, Joel taking a couple of slow strides to the left to keep you in his sights.

“Are you okay?” the woman murmurs quietly when you reach her, glancing at Joel.

Looking at her up close, there is a softness to her that you couldn’t see from far away. Her skin is weathered but still youthful, her long brown hair tied in a loose knot at the nape of her neck and you recognize concern held in her gaze.

You frown, not understanding.

“That man there,” she tilts her chin at Joel. “He seems like a hard one. Is he keeping you here?”

Right when you’re about to defend him, June cries again, making her displeasure at being left alone again known.

Leveling you with a look, the woman repeats herself, this time more direct. “I mean it. Are you okay? Do you need us to help you?”

The implication is all over her face: a hard, threatening man all alone in the woods with a young woman. Holding her captive, forcing himself on her. A grim reality you’d seen plenty of times before, you understand her concern. Still, your response is a cool one, protective in your own right. “I’m fine. He’s just protecting us, like you’re doing with your own people.”

She studies your face for the truth. “He hasn’t hurt you or the baby, has he?”

“Of course not.” You understand her questioning, you do. Softening the edge to your response, you add, “He’s - he’s mine. We’re together. That’s our daughter crying.”

Her body language seems to relax along with her frown and she nods. Taking the sacks from you, she turns to pack them into the saddle bag of the horse next to her.

“Must have been scary, giving birth out here all alone.”

You huff, a small smile at the edge of your lips to disguise the way the memory makes you swallow hard. “Yea, it wasn’t ideal. We were lucky.”

“I helped her do the same a couple months ago.” The woman tilts her chin at another woman in the back of the group, and for the first time, you notice a small bundle wrapped tight to her chest. Hidden, protected from the elements. “You heal okay?”

“It was…rough, but I’m good now.”

Seeming satisfied in her questioning, she digs around in the pouch for a moment. Fishing out a jar, she hands it to you.

“I’m not sure how old your daughter is, but…here. Just in case you need it.”

A bottle of infant Tylenol being pressed into your hand, you look up to ask if she’s sure, but she cuts you off.

“Listen. We’re headed West. Towards Ja –”

“Jackson?” you interrupt, and her eyebrows raise. Joel’s impatience radiating from his position behind you, you ignore it. “Someone came by a couple of months ago and tried to take what we had. Joel took care of it. We found the map in his pocket.”

She smirks. “So he’s real protective of you then.”

“Is it real? Jackson?”

Unsure if you should be prolonging this conversation or even informing them you know the way they’re going, you can’t help the question spilling from your mouth. Curiosity pulled at you for months after you found that map, the destination now even more intriguing after seeing children in the saddle.

“Far as we know,” she replies, stuffing the bags away. “We heard from someone that it's safe. Safer than a QZ, though that doesn’t say much. They’re trying to keep it quiet, so they aren’t overrun with people, but…” her eyes flick towards the cabin. “It’s supposed to be off the grid. A place for families.”

Joel grits out your name behind you, and keeping the children in the forefront of your mind, you rush to say goodbye, giving her a warning.

“You can’t stay in the area or he will shoot you. I promise you, he will.” Clear and direct with your words, you think you see something of understanding laced with respect cross her features. Before you can stop yourself, you add in haste, “There is another cabin about two miles from here though. We’ve been in it, and it’s clean and safe for you all to stay the night. You can eat, get some rest.”

Her shrewd gaze takes you in for a moment, and you squeeze the medicine held in your grip, praying you won’t come to regret what you just said.

The edge of her mouth lifts in a small smile, and you let out a breath just as Joel says your name again, this time in a stern clip.

“Tess,” she says. Acknowledging the way Joel just told her your name, she offers her own. “My name is Tess. And thank you.”

The two of you coming to a silent understanding, you take a step back as she swings up onto the horse next to her, joining a rider already in the saddle. Motioning to the group with her hand, they all start to move.

“Thanks,” she says to Joel as she passes, but he stays silent.

Leveling her with a frown, he keeps his gun trained on her until they disappear into the trees.

–

Backing into the cabin to ensure it stays clear, Joel only lowers his weapon after the door is closed. You follow him cautiously into the bedroom, waiting for him to erupt.

You can tell he wants to, a tight bundle of anger set between his shoulder blades. His body is stiff as he picks June up to make sure she’s okay, and all the while, he keeps his back to you, as if trying to stay calm in her presence.

Her safety confirmed, he hands her to you before stalking back out to head straight for the traps and even after checking those, he stays on the front porch with his rifle, waiting.

Busying yourself with calming June down and eventually feeding her dinner, his anger with you weighs heavily in the space. Peeking every so often at his stern profile through the window, you put June to bed for the night, avoiding him as long as possible.

Afraid of the disappointment you’ll see on his face, you linger by June’s cradle long after she falls asleep, questioning your decisions over and over again in your mind.

In the end, you keep coming back to her milk cheeked profile as she sleeps.

The clothes you piece together for her. The lack of medicine should she get sick. The even worse situation she’d be in if either of you did. The people that came by today, the conflict that was avoided because they were reasonable.

You were right to give those children food. You know you were. If that had been June in the saddle, you would have done anything to get her food — including making a promise not to come back, especially knowing another child was depending on that source for their survival.

It required belief in people instead of immediate distrust, and though you couldn’t explain how you knew, you just knew they could be trusted.

Leaving her to join him on the porch, you’re expecting a calmer discussion with the hours that have passed, but he is still angry. Angrier than you’ve seen him in a long time.

Part nervous, part sorry, and part wanting to defend yourself, you tuck your arms around your torso and step outside to where his profile greets you.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just let them go, Joel. I couldn’t not give them anything. They were starving.”

He says nothing, keeping his eyes resolutely on the woods in front of him.

“Please come inside. They aren’t coming back.”

He faces you, his voice cutting. “And how do you know that, huh?”

You swallow hard, bracing yourself. “I told them about the other cabins. I told them they could stay the night there and get some rest if they needed – “

“What the hell is wrong with you?” His eyes flash in the darkness, his expression twisted with frustration. “We don’ want them to stay close. They need to move on, so we know they aren’t comin’ back for what we have.”

“They aren’t.”

“You think just because they said so, they won’t? You can’t just trust what people tell you. I know it’s been awhile, but I thought you woulda remembered that.”

Hurt cuts through you at his dismissive tone. This version of Joel is one you haven’t seen in a long time, a shadow of the man he was before he met you and it hurts, to be back where you were. To have him look at you the way he is. Blinking back tears, regret starts to seep into your mind, but you fight against it.

You know he’s just protecting his own, and you are one of those people. His.

“The woman said they are headed to Jackson.”

At the mention of the town, he looks back at you.

“Did you see the kids with them? One of the riders had a baby, around the same size as June. That woman – Tess? She helped deliver it.”

Chastened, he looks down at the ground at your mention of that time.

“They wouldn’t start trouble with that many kids around. I know it.”

“They gotta feed them kids, don’t they?” He delivers his statement bluntly, looking up to hold eye contact with you. Weariness rings his eyes, his tone no less scolding for it. “You know just as much as I do that you would do anything for June. Anything. Including lyin’ to someone just to turn around and steal what they have.”

The truth in his words hangs heavy in the air between the two of you, and you press on.

“I gave them ample food. They have no reason to come back. I even put some meat in there –”

At this, he stands, outraged. His jaw ticks as he glares at you for a long moment, eventually letting out a huff of disbelief.

“Hell, why not some ammo too?”

Shaking his head, he glances away.

Disappointment pours off his body, his back to you and a tear slips down over your cheek. All the words you practiced saying to him die on your tongue, every good point turning to ash under the heat of his anger. You understand his worry because it’s also your own worry, but…the way the woman looked at you, the way those women held their children, the hope held in the woman’s eyes as she talked about Jackson?

They weren’t coming back. You knew they weren’t.

You’d thought he’d at least be happy about the horse, but the thought of another mouth to feed keeps your own closed.

Sitting back down, he flexes his hold on his rifle, resting it across his lap. His eyes won’t meet yours.

“I’m gonna stay up and keep watch. Just in case they do decide to come back. You should just…go to bed.”

All of the fight sucked out of you, you nod at his dismissal and turn, going back inside.

–

His disappointment in you eats at him.

Flares bright as he sits up all night, waiting for their shadowy figures to reappear. Simmers as he hears you soothe June back to sleep after feeding her. Lingers with a fade in his chest as the sun lightens the horizon, inky black turning into pinkish dawn.

He knows you saw those children and gave without hesitation, thinking of June. He knows that. But he’s also thinking of June. Always. Equal parts impressed and frustrated by the hope that still exists inside you even after you’ve seen what the outside world is still capable of, he doesn’t know how you can still trust. You still give; you’re still kind.

He appreciates those qualities in you, but to give away your rations and to take a gamble on them not coming back is more than letting your hope win. It’s dangerous, and he wishes you could see that.

He knows now that this will happen again. Clearly a route marked on that map, it’ll be used in the coming months by other people. The fact that they could see your garden was bad enough, but the fact that it was a group of people was even worse.

He can defend you against one man, but a group? There are limits to his skills; he knows more than anyone.

You can’t stay here anymore.

He fights against the knowledge, the memory of Sarah now woven in with the surroundings. So much more than a place for the three of you to stay hidden from the world, he sees it as a place where the four of you thrived: the ghost of Sarah visiting him freely here, as a welcomed presence. Finally not something he pushed to the darkest, safest corners of his mind as a means to keep her memory away from what the world turned into.

Even in death, he protected her.

He knows she’ll follow him wherever he goes, but that doesn’t solve the problem of wanting to be the father he’s got the chance to be with June as he is here — not as who he’d have to be, if you left.

His palm running along the smooth barrel of the gun, he stares into the dark woods and keeps watch, his weary eyes ringed with the need for sleep.

Jackson.

Responsible for your safety and well being, does he take the gamble and bring you there? Does he find another spot hidden deeper in the woods, hoping that one won’t be discovered? One requires faith in the words of other people, the other requires faith only in his own skills. After everything he’s seen and done, he knows which way he wants to lean…but still, he thinks.

Acknowledging the strength in numbers that you’ve been missing this whole time, a group encountering this place was a liability, but to be part of a group - that was a strength. Resources to help if June should get sick, other people around to take care of her if either of you should. Clothes, shoes, a shelter that isn’t slowing falling apart.

Those were just the basics of human necessity, but other things worm their way into his mind. The things not needed to live, but needed to thrive. Socialization, a community. An image of Sarah on the soccer field projects against the dark field in front of him; all grin and bright eyes at sleepovers, running around the park he used to bring her to when she wanted to play with her friends.

Any QZ that he’s been in was never the suburb full of children that he raised Sarah in, but at least there were other kids. Other people. A means to provide more than what you could, here. And with Jackson being a place being off the grid…there was a possibility it was better than a QZ. The world-worn cynic in him knew it was a long shot, but still.

He pictures your shadowed face in the darkness, as you argued with him. The earnestness in your eyes, the words you used to try to make him understand your reasoning behind trusting them. He was too mad then to listen, but now…he understands why.

Not only your belief in those people, but your belief in general. Understands that you’ve always needed to believe in something, in order for any of this to work.

“No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.”

He said that to you in bed one night, speaking of you and June, and he thinks about how you’ve always believed it in the same thing your own way: your something to fight for was a future still possible.

One that you’ve shown him to be true.

Rising stiff limbed from his position on the porch, it’s almost light when he wanders back into the silent cabin.

He tries to be quiet in the kitchen as he digs through the drawer for the map, and finding it, places it on the counter.

Making his way to the bedroom, he crawls into the space behind your curved spine and tucks himself around it, holding you close.

In your sleep, you reach for him and grasping your hand in his, he fits the bridge of his nose into the soft nape of your neck and closes his eyes.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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luvrxbunny · 7 months

Text

slim fit

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Uniform

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, a bit of body worship, dry humping, cum in pants, reader doesn’t cum (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.6k

A/N: i kinda like this one i think! i hope u guys do too (not proofread) here’s the suit i’m taking about!

He walks through the door and your heart skips a beat, happy and relieved he’s home. You’ve been missing him all day, your period is on its way, making you a bit more emotional and sensitive than you usually are. “Baby! Welcome home, my love.” You get up on your tippy-toes and wrap your arms around his neck, breathing out a sigh when he wraps his hands around your waist. “Hola, amor. D’you miss me?” His voice is thick with tiredness from the presumably stressful day he’s had.

You pull back and nod at him happily, he leaves his hand on your waist as he smiles down at you. He looks you up and down and his smile widens. You’re still wearing your suit with one of his zip-ups thrown over. He, unfortunately, hasn’t gotten around to making your digital suit so you still struggle with this one every day, usually opting to wait for him to get home so he can help you take it off. “How long have you been home?” He asks and gestures to your outfit while walking to the kitchen, leaving his work bag by the door. “It’s been maybe an hour or something—? I don’t know. I just miss you when you’re gone, seconds turn to hours.” You add a dramatic sigh to your voice that pushes a laugh out of his chest.

“You need to figure out how to take this off without me, cariño.” You shake your head and ignore him, sitting on the counter beside where he’s making himself a little sandwich. “No, I don’t. The stress-” He hands you a piece of turkey and you instantly start snacking on it. “The stress it creates, along with the anxiety of like- what if I get stuck and you’re not home for another hour or something… or! Or what if I tear my suit?! I don’t have time to wait for a new one?!” He shakes his head with a silent smile as he takes a bite of his sandwich.

“Mhm.” Is all he says, obvious disbelief in his tone and a teasing smirk on his lips. You sit up and look at him with a shocked, stern face but your smile can’t help but break through. “Okay. You don’t get it, alright? You have your fancy digital suit.” You give your voice a nasal tone as you tease him and his suit. He almost choked on his sandwich while laughing at you. He puts it down and wipes the crumbs off his fingers before walking in front of you. He places his hands on his hips and gives you the sassiest look. “I used to have a normal suit y’know. I was able to get out of it just fine.

This is news to you. You thought Miguel had his digital suit- or a digital suit since he started his spider career. You need to see it now. “Where is it? Go get it! Put it on! Now!” You’re off the counter and pushing him into the bedroom while he laughs instead of answering. “It- It’s in the closet but- Baby!” He cuts himself off with a laugh as you shove him so hard he almost falls over. He holds your wrists, stopping your assault as you giggle at him. He leans down for a kiss to calm you down but you’re both just smiling against the lips of the other.

“It might not fit me anymore!” You stare up at him with an evil smile. “I. Don’t. Care. Please put it on!” He watches you for a moment, seeing how badly you want to see it in every feature and emotion that flashes over your face. He wants to make you happy, it’s all he wants, so of course he caves. “Fine.” You’re instantly jumping up and doing a little happy dance with the widest smile he’s seen on you all day. “But you have to wait in the living room.” He’s gently pushing you out of the room. “You don’t get to watch me struggle.” You giggle at his words and nod, removing yourself from his hold and sitting patiently on the couch.

It feels like an eternity before he comes out. He turns the knob as slowly as he can, and a smile spreads over his face when he hears a soft gasp and noises that sound like you scrambling to get off the couch. He feels a bit of anxiety seep into his previously positive feelings. This suit is a lot tighter than his digital one, he can’t adjust it to his body type and he hasn’t even seen himself in it for years. He doesn’t know if he’s as muscular in all the places he needs to be, the suit might be baggy and unflattering. But he can hear your excited little breaths on the other side of the door, he can already see the smile that’s undoubtedly resting on your face. He’d give anything to see it in real life, so he pushes through his embarrassment.

You’re bouncing in place as he opens the door at the speed of a snail. Once you can see him though… it’s over. Heat is flooding your veins and you take a deep shaky breath to regulate the shock from how you’re already drenching your underwear. He’s standing there, his legs pressed together, tilted inward and his hand holding the opposite forearm, uncharacteristically shy. He’s getting visibly restless the longer you take him in but you can’t bring yourself to stop. His suit is pretty similar to his other one but it’s white instead of blue. He doesn’t have the mask on so his curls, and an amazing contrast to the white and it makes his eyes pop, piercing yours every time they meet. The main issue you’re having is how tight it is. He’s obviously filled out since the last time he wore this suit, the biceps bulging and the fabric over his thighs pulled so tight that you’re afraid it may rip. The neckline is warped from the way his shoulders are stretching the fabric and his crotch… it seems impossible that his dick has gotten bigger since he wore this suit but the way it’s basically screaming at you makes you believe that it has.

You’re entranced by his body but you don’t want him to get too uncomfortable so you finally speak up. “Miguel.” You take a step toward him, eyes on his chest instead of his face. “You look so good, honey.” He sucks in a sharp breath at your words and his eyes widen for a moment before fluttering back to their normal state. “Really? It’s- I think it’s too-” You don’t let him finish his nonsense. “You look incredible, so strong.” You squeeze his bicep for a moment before letting your hands run all over him. It’s like he’s naked. You can feel the definition of every muscle your hand runs over, the way they tense and he shudders.

He’s getting unbearably hard in his pants, one of the inconveniences he does not miss about a physical suit. Usually, this would be the part where he just dissipates his crotch and your hand is on his cock in an instant… but instead, he’s just pressing into the fabric, the restriction getting more uncomfortable by the second. He tries to ignore it, you never explicitly stated that what you were doing has sexual intent so he’s worried about being a creep. But fuck your hands feel so good he can’t help it. He’s fully hard by the time you’re done admiring his arms, moving on to his chest where his nipples have pebbled up for you.

You raise an eyebrow at him but he keeps his gaze straight above your head, pretending his face isn't currently in flames at your admiration. You save him embarrassment and say nothing but continue your appreciation of his body. You know he’s getting hard in his pants, you both are so in tune with the other that any time you’re horny; 9.5/10 Miguel’s feeling the same way, and it goes both ways. He subconsciously puffs his chest out once you place your hands back on him, pressing his nipples into your hands. You peek up at him and catch his eyes closing softly. You press your palms into his boobs before digging your fingers in, fondling him the same way he does to you and a whimper slips out of his mouth at the feeling.

He’s started to leak in his pants and he’s growing increasingly desperate. He’s almost at his limit, his body is already too turned on, all his senses cranked up making your touches feel more intense than they already are. The softness and sensuality of the entire interaction is really clouding his head, it only gets worse once your hand leaves his chest to cup his bulge gently. His eyes snap open and his hands come to your hips, walking you back to the couch while leaning down to capture your lips in his. You release a contented moan into his mouth when his tongue licks in, tasting your mouth and rubbing against yours, dancing with it.

He crashes on top of you once your legs hit the back of the couch and force your knees to give out. He growls above you, a low, grunting sound as he pulls at your suit desperately, trying to take your bottoms off, or your top but everything is just stuck to you, like a sausage in its casing. “Fuck!” He whispers out to nothing, his voice sad and desperate for you. You cradle his face and flip the two of you over slowly, seating yourself in his lap and grinding over his bulge the moment it touches your needy pussy. His head gets thrown back and his hands on your hips immediately go to work, grinding you over his bulge. “This is why I need-” You’re cut off by your moans as Miguel re-angles you so you’re more leaning on his thigh, right over the tip of his dick, pressing right into your clit.

He breathes out a sigh of relief as his cock starts pouring into his pants, precum draining from his cock, wanting nothing more than to be inside you. Your hands go back to his chest, shoulders, and arms, feeling like heaven over his suit, pressing through his sensitive skin. He whines and forces you onto his dick more forcefully, trying to get as close as he can with this stupid fabric separating his skin from yours. You grip his sides and press your thumbs into his nipples, relishing the way his breathing speeds up and his moans devolve to whines. You begin to bounce yourself in his lap gently, adding more force to your grinds, simulating that you’re actually riding him. His hips begin to thrust into you, adding to the friction between the two of you. “M’close.” He whimpers into your ear as his body folds in on itself, trying to fight the pleasure you’re feeding him with.

His words encourage you to double your pace, wrenching a high yelp from Miguel as his hands still your hips. “N- I can’t-- Not in the suit, I-” You’re out of his lap on your knees before he can catch his breath enough to form a proper sentence. Your hand makes itself comfortable over his bulge, pumping him through the fabric, just to keep him on the edge without pushing him over. You just watch him like that for a little bit, his hands gripping the armrest with his eyes shut tight and his stomach tensing over and over to fight the urge to absolutely fill his suit. A devious smirk spreads over you when you realize he’s not going to open his eyes, he can’t. If he does he’ll cum.

You lean forward, your face right above his cock but still looking up at his face. He’s none the wiser to your movement. You place your lips over where his tip is leaking through the fabric and suck as hard as you can, almost choking on the little bit of precum that shoots to the back of your throat. He gasps so suddenly that his throat seems to close in on itself, letting out a strangled noise before you feel his hands shoving your face further into his tip as his hips tilt up.

His warmth is flooding your mouth, slowly making its way through the fabric as he groans raggedly above you, grinding into your face sporadically. You bring your tongue out and lap it over the rough fabric, teasing and overstimulating his tip as he gives you more ropes of cum, shooting right over your tongue and you moan at the taste. He slowly collapses back onto the couch, all the tension gone from his body, all his limbs loose.

You climb into his lap, careful to avoid his sensitive cock, and nuzzle your head into his shoulder while watching him pant at the ceiling. His head falls to the side, his eyes hazy and clouded when they open to meet yours. His eyebrows draw in for a moment and he whimpers softly “M’gonna make you cum, jus- just give me a minute.” He sounds delirious as he says it so you know it’s a promise he’ll break but you don’t mind. You nod at him softly, like an adult would do to a child who's making no sense. "Mhm. I know, baby." He smiles softly at your response. You’d do it again even if you knew he wasn’t going to get you off just to get him like this, all soft and pliant.

You stroke through his hair as he calms down and you don’t even slow your pace when you start to hear snores work into his breaths. Instead, you let the calming motion of his chest rising and falling, slowly rock you to sleep… both of you still in your suits.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

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sarawritestories · 2 months

Note

Hello! Could i request a cassian fic where reader and cassian are gone on a mission but reader gets her cycle halfway and when they stay overnight at an inn or something cassian finds reader really exhausted and numb and puts the pieces together realising she might be on her period because she is too shy to tell him. so cassian helps her through her cramps and all. Just lots of fluff.

This is absolutely perfection! I hope I did this justice for you! This also features a trop I was requested to do by @hellodarling1357 that may include one bed 😄

I Got You, Sweetheart

Cassian X fem Reader

Summary: Going on a mission with Cassian is all fun and games until your cycle makes an unexpected appearance.

Content warning: none

Word Count: 1.7 k

ACOTAR Masterlist

“Keep up slowpoke. We’re almost there.” Cassian yells from a mile away the warmth and light of the Spring Court sun making him almost ethereal. I scowl at him as I huff breath leaning against the tree trunk trying to catch my breath. This trek on the hillside of the Spring court wouldn’t be an issue for me but today the incline is exhausting me. Cassian began running in place only to be stopped by him sneezing. I giggle as I continue forward handing him my handkerchief when I walk past. “I fucking hate this place.” Cassian grumbles as he blows his nose.

I look out at the expanse of land that lives in eternal spring. The vibrant hues of the territory were beautiful various shades of greens and pinks. Greenery everywhere even when walking into the village. I take a moment and let the warmth of the sun kiss my skin and warm my face. “Its not all bad,” I look to him and wink, as he scratches your chest, “One day we’ll get you a tonic so you can actually enjoy being here.”

Cassian stops scratching and continues forward, “I doubt I would like it. With the High Lord being a prick.” I roll my eyes and follow him. Ironically enough Feyre was the one that asked us to come here and try to provide aid to the villages. When she asked, I could see the guilt on her face, she felt bad for how she handled destroying her former lover’s court, and no one had seen Tamlin in a few months. I agreed and she insisted I bring Cassian and gave me a suggestive look as she did. Busybody.

Looking in front of me and admired the General’s wings twitching, itching to spread out but he was not taking any chances of an enemy aiming for them. “I can feel you staring, Sweetheart.”

He speaks out and I jump as we reach another steep incline. I took another deep breath and kept moving. I keep my focus on the back of Cassian’s head and force down the exhaustion and the slight pain in my abdomen.

We reach the village when the sun begins to set, and I grab Cassian’s arm as I look at the sun going down the various shades of orange and pink painting the sky in a bloom of color. “I should ask Feyre to paint more scenery pieces. This view is breathtaking.” I lean my head on his arm as Cassian chuckles.

“Tell me are you going to fill the house of wind with all of Feyre’s paintings?”

“Maybe. And when I get done with all the public areas, I’ll start redecorating rooms.” I smirk at him, “Starting with yours.”

Cassian squints his eyes and gets close to my face our foreheads touching, “You wouldn’t dare.”

I giggle and flick his nose, “You’re cute when you’re acting like you don’t like the idea of me in your room.”

Cassian blinked and straightened back to his full height clearing his throat ready to change the subject. A wave of pain ran through my abdomen again and I winced in pain, Cassian’s brows knitted together, scanning me as if he can see where the source of my pain came from, “You alright?”

I wave him off, “I’m sure I’m just hungry. Should we find an Inn?” Cassian nods and leads us into a village, his wing extending to me, to shield me from the temperature dip as the sun lowered.

The inn was full of loud boisterous patrons. The low lighting of the fae lights cast a warm glow over the tavern portion. Patrons filled the tables some were a few farmers cheering for a fruitful harvest. There was a family enjoying their dinner and faintly in the back corner two lovers were tied in an embrace. Cassian’s breath warmed my pointed ear, “Go find a seat I’ll get us a room.”

I nod and look for a seat. Finding a spot near the stairs that lead to the rooms, I plop on the seat and exhaustion hits me full force followed by another bout of pain. I groan and place my head on the cool wooden table. The sounds of the tavern become muted as I close my eyes and try to ignore the pain and then I smell it and my eyes blink open wide. No. No. it can’t be. I’m two weeks early, and I’m growing dizzy. I try to move to sit up against the wall, my head swirling and swirling to the point of feeling numb.

Cassian comes in, “They had one room left with two beds.” He smiles and he looks at me and he frowns.

I raise my arm to poke his cheek, “Hey, you turned your smile into a frown. Fix it.”

He grips my wrist, “What is goin-“ Then his eyes goes wide. “Ohhh. Come on, let’s get you upstairs.” He helped me up, His hand staying on my back just to let me know he was there.

We reach the top of the stairs; Cassian grabs my hand and leads me to our room. When he turns the key and Cassian curses. I look inside, the last room with two beds, looks awful like one bed. And a bad Cramp made me cling to Cassian in a whimper, “Cass.” I tilted my head up to blink away the tears.

Maybe it’s the delirium I give him a weak smile, “Can I have you?”

Cassian looks down at me his mouth in a tight libe, and his warm eyes fill with concern. He hooks his arms under my knees and wrapped and around my shoulders, “I got you, Sweetheart.” I lean my head around his neck, and I barely notice his heartbeat as he crosses to the bed. He places me down tenderly. “I need to grab some things for you, beautiful. Do you want anything in particular?” He crouches down to meet my eyes and brushes my hair behind my ear, and I lean into his touch.

Cassian smiles, and kisses my forehead, “We can talk about that when I get you everything you need.” He stands and I grip his hand, “Sweetheart, you need a tonic for the pain, you will need fresh undergarments, you need your nightgown. Please let me take care of you.” He bends down to kiss my knuckles. “I won’t be long.”

I must have fallen asleep because I awoke to Cassian nudging me. I peel my eyes open and smile as his hazel eyes and met mine, “Hi.”

Cassian’s grin broadens, “Hey, you.” He has a vial in his hand, “Sit up for me, will your sweets.”

I attempt to but then a sharp waive of pain washed over me and I cried out, “Cassie, it hurts.” Cassian’s face falls, I only pull out that name when things are out of control.

“I know, baby, let me help take the pain away but I need you to at least lift your head, can you do that?”

I slowly nod and l lift my head, Pain explodes behind my eyes, but I grit my teeth and keep my head there as Cassian uncorks the vial. He cups my cheek trying to hold my head up for me, wiping tears with the pads of his thumbs. “Open for me.” I open my mouth and he tilt the vile so the liquid can go down my throat. He gently lays my head back down. “You want me to help get you in comfortable clothes?”

I nod my head, “Please, anything that can keep me from getting up would be preferred.” I whispered. He nodded and with skill and precision he got me out of my leathers and into the night gown he provided. I turned to my side so I could face him as he grabbed something from his bag, “What’s that?”

He smiled and opened the bag to reveal a piece of chocolate cake, I smiled. “I figured you could use it.”

I looked at him and tears began to form, “You’re too good to me. I envy the female who ends up your mate. She will be very lucky.”

Cassian’s face fell as he tore a piece of the cake with his fork and held it to my lips, I took a bite and hummed in approval. Cassian bit his lip and looked at me, “I have a mate.”

My hormones are raging, and my tears become soft sobs, at least that’s what I’m telling myself. “What’s she like? Do you like her? Does she know?”

Cassian takes a bite of the cake. “I don’t know. How Would you describe yourself?”

I furrow my brow as he places the fork with a bite of the cake that I graciously take and then it hit me. The bond snapped and the gold tether led me to Cassian. “Cass.”

He shushes me. “We will talk about it when you’re better. Right now, my mate is hurting, and I would very much like to take care of her.”

Tears kept flowing as he feeds me more cake, “She would like that.” Another wave of pain hits me, and my sobs take over. Cassian walks away and pulls off his leathers, replacing them with sleeping pants and climbs over me to the other side of the bed.

He gently turns me over and maneuvers us so my head is on his warm chest and his wing curved over me to provide extra warmth. And he holds me like that until my sobs get under control and he rubs his hand up and down my arm in soothing circles. My eyes began to droop, “Cassian?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with sleep as well.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Cassian kisses my forehead, and the tip of my nose and his lips meet mine in a tender loving kiss. When he pulls away, he presses his head to mine, “I wanted to do that for so long.”

I yawn and shut my eyes, “Now you can kiss me for say eternity.”

Cassian yawns as well, “Sounds like a good plan.”

Thanks for reading!

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian fluff #acotar fluff

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1000roughdrafts · 3 months

Text

Just Another Day

Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Warnings: some language (like 2-3 words), light mentions of angst, but mostly fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Not betad, all mistakes are my own 😊 and bear with me, I’m a little rusty 🥰 happy love day 🥰

Valentine's Day has never really been a favorite of mine, let alone anything I'd consider more than 'just a day'. Hell, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, even birthdays are all just 'another day' for me. It's kind of difficult not to harbor ill feelings about them after constantly being let down by the people in my life, one broken promise after another.

Dean and Sam have kept every promise they've made, though. In fact, they're managing to break down my walls bit by bit from stolen candy on Halloween to a fried chicken meal with beer on Thanksgiving all while living in cheap motels chasing monsters. When I told them this morning that I just wanted to hunt as usual for the day, I couldn't help but to feel a tad disappointed that they agreed. Bit by bit, I'm breaking my own rules about not getting my hopes up on holidays.

This is our first Valentine's Day as a couple, and I've known Dean long enough to know that chocolate and flowers aren't exactly his style. But I can count on him to bring me a piece of pie "just because" or he'll clean my weapons for me after a particularly grueling hunt because he knows all I want to do is shower and get in bed.

After a long day of exorcising demons, we are on the road again. Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult plays low on the radio, but the clattering of rain on the roof has my full attention. Sam loudly rifles through the papers in his lap with one hand, flashlight held in the other, hesitant to ever let himself relax. Dean's eyes flicker between the road and the rear-view mirror to periodically check on me.

"Hey, you seem off today, you okay?" Dean asks, picking up on my vacant eyes and slight frown.

I suck in a breath, inhaling the scent of the Black Ice air freshener and a hint of stale whiskey, "yeah," I say curtly, keeping my eyes on the trees swaying in the wind as we drive past, lit only by the moon above us. The wind howls against the windows of the Impala, sneaking in and covering my skin with goosebumps.

His face scrunches a bit and he nods before the tick of the blinker signals that he's turning off the highway. I feel a twinge of discomfort knowing we're only minutes away from the motel now. As much as I hate the numbness I feel in my butt and thighs, there is something meditative about being a passenger on a long drive.

We pass an abandoned gas station before I can see the dim lights of the Wandering Inn. Dean parks us by the front desk, leaving the Impala to run with a soft purr as he gets us a key to a room. Neither Sam nor I take our time getting the bags together, so by the time Dean is back out and we find a parking spot near the room, we're ready to head in.

The door whines as Dean pushes it open, immediately palming the peeling wall for a light switch. The overhead light flickers a few times before settling on a weak glow, and before I can even shut the door behind us, the smell of burnt dust and old pledge assaults my nose. I glance around the small room. The musky yellow walls seem to make it feel even smaller, somehow.

Dean turns to me with outstretched arms and a smile, asking for my bags. I dutifully and sleepily hand them over, not realizing the weight they bared until the relief of their absence waves over me. Dean nods his head towards the bathroom, "ladies first on a shower," he says softly. His boots click on the tile as he walks over to toss our bags onto the bed, plopping down next to them to remove his boots.

In a few short strides I head over to grab my bag for the bathroom, stopping in front of him to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes, droopy and half-closed, look up at me in a smile. He places his hands my back, thumbs rubbing circles on my skin as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"Thanks for first shower, Dean," I say, letting my hands rest on his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise and fall before he says, "yeah, well, by the looks of it, you need it more than we do tonight."

My ear to ear smile is real, but I fake a laugh before pulling away. "Whatever," I say, but I slowly lose my smile on the way to my shower. Dean's ability to pick up on even the most subtle of changes in me are a testament to how great of a hunter he is, and even greater boyfriend. How he can't pick up on how torn I'm feeling about this wretched day I've no idea. What conflicts me further is that I know it's my responsibility to share these feelings with him. Dean may have an attention to detail I haven't seen in a partner in, well, ever, but he's not a mind reader.

The tile of the bathroom is cold under my feet, so I remove my shirt to stand on it while I wait for the water to heat up. I hear the guys shuffling and moving things in the room, keeping their voices hush, but I'm too tired to give a shit. Waving a hand under the water I decide that it's the perfect temperature and remove the rest of my clothes to get in.

I don't even realize how tense I am until the water hits my shoulders, nearly forcing me to relax under it. My body's reflexes take over and I go into autopilot as I think about today and Valentine's Day is already almost over, but we did nothing… at my request. I roll my eyes at myself, brushing my teeth while the conditioner sits in my hair. The scent of fruit and mint fill the room among the steam. When I rinse my hair, I imagine I'm rinsing the day away.

The mirror is completely fogged up by the time I get out. With slightly damp skin, and a towel wrapped around my head, I struggle to get my clothes on, and it frustrates me.

I open the door and allow the steam to pour into our room, and I'm immediately hit with a surprising smell. It's almost as if someone is roasting marshmallows in our motel room. I take a small, careful step and peek just my head out, eyes zeroing in on the lit candles on the table.

My eyes skip over to Dean who sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, a single flower in one hand, and a mix-tape in the other. Beneath his feet is a trail of rose petals leading to the door of the bathroom. He keeps his eyes on me, a smile peaking through his lips as he awaits my next move.

Sam's eyes and mine meet before he offers an awkward smile and shuffles a few things around on his bed. He grabs his shower bag, and I take a few steps towards Dean to allow him to enter the bathroom. Dean and I are both silent until the door closes behind Sam.

"What is all this, Dean?" I asks, astonished. Moldy motel room, or 5 star suite, never in my life has anyone laid out rose petals for me. I feel my heart racing like it's ready to burst right out of my chest.

Dean smiles, standing to hand me the flower with a kiss on my cheek. My skin is warm where his lips just were, and he reaches to take my hand, guiding me to sit on our bed.

He notices my eyes glance down at the mix tape before jumping back up to his. "I've been working on this for a few weeks now," he says, shaking the tape in his hand before handing it to me.

My hand shakes when I grab it, and I flip it to see "To my Y/N/N, Love Dean," scribbled on the front. My cheeks grow hot again, but this time with embarrassment that I'd spent the whole day thinking about myself, when here's Dean blowing expectations right out of the water.

"It's, uh, all the songs that remind me of you," he says softly, and I notice the scent of my favorite candle as the flame burns. My head spins.

"I don't know what to say, Dean," I start, and he just smiles, caressing my hand with his calloused fingers, "I mean, thank you. This is the kindest, most loving thing anyone has ever done for me," I say, tears welling in my eyes.

It's overwhelming to think a personal could love someone so much that amidst hunting Heaven, Hell and everything in between he could find the time to make this moment so special.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't cry," he says, arms wrapping around me, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"I'm not crying, Dean," I contest, but I nuzzle my face into his soft, comforting shirt, allowing my arms to wrap around his torso, and under the warmth of his jacket.

I soak in the smell of his sandalwood cologne and tighten my arms around him. Kissing his chest, I mutter another "thank you" before lifting my head to look him in the eyes. He brings his hand to either side of my face, eyes looking back and forth between mine, "you're very welcome," he says, kissing me with a tenderness that takes my breath away, and I realize that it's moments like these that I want to fill my heaven with.

~~~~

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jadeee · 5 months

Text

Living with Nanami

I get the feeling there'll be a part 2... I've never done anything note motivated but maybe if this gets 100 notes I will 👀 -> update: read part 2 here!

He habitually wipes the bathroom countertop after using the sink. It's ingrained in him. We all saw that ep in season 1.

Definitely has a modern aesthetic which when paired with yours is very... interesting. He'll eye whatever knick knacks you have in silence, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Your feet felt warm on the multi-colored rug you placed in front of the couch. The walls were decorated with art you picked out, a few pops of green from your many plants here and there. Then there was the odd trinket you found from a thrift store years ago which stood upright on the coffee table. The longer he studied the color blocked sections of your bookshelf, the more his set mouth morphed into an impressed smile. Your hands brushed against each other until he took yours in his completely.

His pet peeve would definitely be little bits of trash scattered throughout the house. He's not passive aggressive but he won't lash out or lecture you. Just a little "Darling, I noticed you forget to throw things out sometimes. Why is that?"

Another pet peeve I see for him is walking around brushing your teeth or flossing 💀 if you walk down the hall flossing, he just imagines bits of plaque flying onto the walls silently. I'm not sure if he'd say anything about this because he thinks you may find it silly and he knows it's not a big deal but a piece of him shudders just a bit.

Always has pads, tampons, and pain relief meds in stock. He'll get the special snacks you like around that time of the month. Whenever it hits you, he's there with everything prepped and ready to go. I imagine he'll secretly want you to ask him for cuddles just so he can spoon you 💗 he rests his hands on your low abdomen while talking to you softly, his breath tickling your ear.

Side note: He doesn't get into the habit of carrying these things around until one day you two are out and you're period suddenly comes out then he goes on the hunt for a pad or tampon.

He's very serious about going to sleep at a certain time and is lowkey bothered when he sees you staying up late - if it's for work, okay fine but if you're up on your phone or watching TV, expect a "you should really go to bed". If you're being a brat and he's really serious, he will haul you off to bed. He wants to give you a peck on the cheek so you know he's not mad but he won't because he's feeling petty.

The place would look very clean and organized nearly all the time except for the weekends. I believe in this 100% because Friday night is when he finally let's loose just a bit. Maybe he had too much to drink when you two went out but you look so cute and you smell so good and my God, your lips... Saturday morning rolls around and so does he in the sheets. His arms wrap around you as he groans softly against your skin, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He knows the place is a bit messy but would rather clean tomorrow since he wants to spend the day with you.

Cleaning is a shared effort. He's not doing all the work and neither are you. I love him and I know he's all for taking care of you but I feel like realistically, this would truly be a shared task. Doing dishes can suck and so can cleaning the bathroom but it's enjoyable when you're playing your music. When he hauls the laundry off to the washing machine, he can't help but look in your direction and smile at the private show you're putting on for yourself.

No matter who cooks, dishes are typically done together. I think it'd become a tradition to bake on Saturdays. Ohh some cake with wine in the afternoon? You two sitting on the porch just giggling and talking about nothing and everything inbetween. Then when golden hours hits and the sun just casts that heavenly glow on you.

Kento leans back with a soft grin on his face.

"What are you smiling at?" you block the sun from your face.

"My light, my life."

Heat filled your cheeks as you dropped your head and crossed your legs.

Kento chuckled, "Did I make you nervous?"

"No." you snicker then glance up at him.

He filled your empty glass, "You're a better baker than you are a liar."

You grinned then looked off into the sunset to hide your embarrassment but it only highlighted the things Nanami loved about you.

He doesn't go to sleep mad or upset. He doesn't have the space for it or the time or the energy. Your relationship isn't perfect but it's worth fighting for and he makes sure to do that whenever you two have a fight. If you're both home that night, he won't invade your space but he'll make sure to let you know he cares in some way. Say you fall asleep on the couch? You're going to wake up in the bed and wonder how he ended up on the couch instead. If you haven't eaten, he'll bring you a small snack without saying anything.

This is really random but the security would honestly be multi-layered. Definitely a self insert bc home invasions TERRIFY ME 😭 he'd invest in a good alarm system and have the security cameras outside - yes, cameras to cover the front and back door.

Hmm, what else? Oh you'd have house shoes by the door. I like to think someone bought you two matching ones as a wedding gift or couple themed - like his and hers.

Fun fact: Sharing a bed with you the first night was weird for him. He didn't feel uncomfortable but he didn't feel comfortable either. He just laid there like a man in a coffin.

"Nanami?"

"Hm?" he turned his head to glance at you in the dark.

"Are you ok?"

"... I'm fine, why do you ask?"

The sound of you moving around made his ears turn pink and he was grateful for the dark for once. "You just seem so," he tried not to grunt when you poked his side "stiff."

"Hm, it's really nothing. You should go to sleep."

More rustling he wished would go away. Each second caused a slow heat to creep from his feet to his face.

"Can I hold you?"

He turned his head again then glanced up at the black ceiling. A sigh escaped his lips as he rolled over. Your limbs found each other in the dark and you rested your head near his. His chest deflated of anxiety then.

"Is this better? Do you feel comfortable?"

The sudden feel of lips against your forehead made you smile.

"Yes," he said softly then held you tight until he fell asleep.

Author's Note: I only saw him as the husband while writing this. You're already married in this headcanon.

#divider by cafekitsune #madebyjade #nanami kento #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk nanami kento x reader #jjk nanami #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen

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undercoverpena · 9 months

Text

xi. hold her, and tell her everything's gonna be fine

javier peña x f!reader | chapter eleven of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: sad!reader, talks of jobloss, comforting!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love ✨ wordcount: 3.3k. an: i know, when will jo stop changing the banner, but I love this so much and feel it encompasses everything for these two.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

I have one last thing to research and then I’m all yours.

have you eaten

There is a piece of fruit in my hand, as I research.

you said you were gonna order

In my defence, I’m not super hungry.

if I was there id hide your notebook and make you eat tamales my mama taught me to make

Make me, ay?

oh baby normally i would be so down to talk dirty with you and make you blush but only when youve eaten

I really want this job, baby.

i know but i really want you to not be ill

Because you really really really like me?

i heard that in your voice and yes because I really like you

In the last few days, the two of you have managed to complete three crosswords. Something he’s impressed with and you’re disappointed in.

“So, another one—I’m still unsure what this even means.”

Laughing, he hears you crunch another piece of fruit—thankful to hear you eating. “What’s the clue, baby?”

He’ll never tire of it, hearing you call him that. A sweet sound, all wrapped in kindness—floating down the phone line all the way to his ear.

“‘Not a company man’, six letters,” he says, fingers rolling the bridge of his nose.

“Hermit,” you say, calm, casual. “Or, you know, me if I don’t get the job.”

“Baby,” he warns, pen scratching the paper as you try to laugh.

Then you asked to change the conversation. Something he was more than happy to oblige, capping the pen, shoving the book away, leaning on the counter as you tell him about a new recipe you like. Talking fast, busy—almost far too energetic, but he knows why.

It’s all because of today.

The interview—the things he’s heard you jump through hoops for—arriving sooner than he could have relaxed you for.

You’d practised elements of your presentation and called him more than you usually would. Something he liked, enjoyed. The feeling of being needed. That his opinion mattered. It all weaving within him, stitching the parts of him that had weakened since the goodbye, since the drive home—alone and without you.

After a quick text in the morning, Javi had known not to expect to hear from you for a while. Likely not even immediately post your interview, probably needing a coffee—a breather.

If he lived there, where you were, you’d likely need him. Meet him outside, coffee in hand to give to you, a comforting hug, your breath on his neck as you let the tension out.

But he wasn’t there.

And he had thought he might have heard from you an hour later.

let me know how it’s gone baby

Javi tries not to be needy.

A battle he finds easy to lose when it comes to you. Digging his phone out the back pocket of his jeans periodically, ignoring the animals nuzzling their noses at him for food as he checks his battery, texts, calls…

Then the hour bled into two. Your interview was two-hundred and thirty-nine minutes ago, to be precise.

By now, he’s expected to have heard something, anything.

you still want me to call tonight

He tries not to worry. Even as his tasks dwindled, the sun beating down, his stomach growling and sweat building in parts of him that he should shower off.

But a part of him thinks if he goes inside, it’ll layer on top of him: the loneliness. The thing he feels, but pretends isn’t there.

Because normally, he’d have heard from you at lunch—if not more frequently throughout your day. The silence expected, very out of character. Which turns some cogs in him that twist and tighten, forcing his throat to burn and his stomach to flutter with a nervousness he can’t explain, except that:

Javi wants you.

Not just in the sense that he wants to run his fingers up and down your side, to crush his lips over yours, to bury himself inside of you as he feels himself falling, freely, and happily. But more that he wants to wake next to you, see you smile and laugh amongst the field, show you the water’s edge—feel some contentment there rather than boiling anger at the boats.

You could wear your jacket as the weather cools, and spread your warmth from the photo strip to the rest of the ranch.

youre doing that thing where you make me worry, baby

Eventually, after much internal fighting, he heads in and showers.

Hands washing the day as he hopes the water will take away his worries too. Pressing his palm flat to the tiles, he allows the water to beat down on him—eyes occasionally glancing to the phone on the windowsill, willing it to light up.

He suspects it’s why he stays in a bit longer.

Allows the soap suds to have long since vanished down the plug hole, letting the water begin to go cold as he uses all of the water up.

It’s only when he’s dried off, thrown some comfier clothes on—sunk into his usual chair, does he rotate the phone in his hand. His fingers slid along the underside of his chin, eyes fixated on a photo of him and his parents—their faces beaming, smiling, his hands in theirs.

even got me using punctuation and everything

Please, he whispers.

To no one. Not his Pop in the next room, some show bleeding into the air. Just to himself, as he works the spot on his forehead.

You don’t text him back, but you do call bang on time.

He’s spent the last half an hour pretending he wasn’t loitering, while his pop pretended he wasn’t coming in to make drinks to check on him. Giving him that look, the one Javi had seen so often when he’d first come back from Cali.

All concern, all deep lines embedded with worries as he ticks, tick, ticked.

This was different. Something in his gut telling him that you weren’t okay, a need inside of him to get to you—pack a bag, head to the airport and hope there was a flight or something.

He only hadn’t because a part of him, small—but loud—hummed that it could be him. He could be the reason, the cause. It all too good to be true. His fingers pressing keys to read back his texts, see if he can find the cause—the moment it all began to spoil and undo.

The last hour of investigation led him to nothing. Irritation threading into his muscles until he heard the phone ring—loud, punching holes with its noise into his unravelling.

Smirking, he wipes his hands on his jeans, cocking his head around the doorway—checking for the flickering television and no lurking pop, before he unhooks the ringing phone from its place.

“Took you long enough, was about to ring you and ruin—”

“J—Javi?”

Sniffle. A sob. The beginnings of you splitting in two.

That’s what he hears—clear as anything. It cuts straight through his attempt at teasing and slices through him as though the sound was laced with the edge of a knife.

It’s instant, barely explainable, the way his stomach falls to his feet. His smile vanishes, stolen and robbed, as another sob expands in the space of your two’s silence, making his throat dry, and the phone crunches a little under his grip.

“Baby. Talk to me, what’s happened?”

You swallow, all thick, as though it's a struggle. “I… I—I didn’t g-get the job-b.”

Slowly, his eyes close. Hearing you cry again, louder, less restrained and more freely, them rolling and rolling from you like a wave. The depth of it travels freely down the phone, in the same way, he usually craves when it’s your voice, noise, or presence.

“I’m… cariño, I’m so—”

“—I’m s-sorry, Javi. I’m so sorry…”

Frowning, he slides the fingers down his nose as you continue to apologise—them merging with your hiccups and tears.

“Cariño, wait. Stop.”

And you do. Your sniffles all of a sudden ceasing, more restrained—practically swallowing another one back. Trying to keep it on your tongue, rather than let it escape.

“Why are you apologising to me?”

You’re quiet for a moment, a second. Then you seem to let out a strange noise, before clearing your throat. “The job… I… we’d have been seeing each other more, and I’ve ruined it—I ruined-d it all.”

Frowning, he opens his mouth. Confusion there, all evident and brimming. Because he hasn’t got a fucking clue what you’re talking about. His brain runs, dashing through the notes it’s been making, the snippets here and there you’d spill about your day and your work.

“It was-s in Houston. I’d have been able t-to move. We’d have been c-closer.”

And then it lands.

The realisation. What it would have meant.

It appears in front of him before it slams straight into him. Forced his head to drop, sight lowering to a mark on the wall as his chest tightens. His eyes fixated, unable to tear his eye from the stain on the off-yellow wall—one likely made from him sitting on a stool or chair, maybe even his knee when he’s stretched, when minutes have quickly tumbled into an hour.

Even if he’s reeling, your ramblings have continued. They’re all in various pitches, spluttered and painted in painful cries and strangled sniffs.

“—I—I didn’t want to tell you at first, in case we didn’t, you know, get on.” You continue, some words slamming into the next as you try to level out your cries. “Then I didn’t want to tell you in case you got excited, and I fucked it up—and I did, didn’t I? I fucked it up. And now we won’t live closer, and—“

“Baby—“

But you’re tumbling, rolling right off the emotional cliff you’d been on the edge of. Thick, horrid sobs that shake his foundation and dart cracks through all of him continue to travel from you.

And it hurts. Makes him feel both horrid and weak—helpless. Unsure what he can say, do.

So he offers, “They’ll be other jobs.”

And as soon as it unfurls from his tongue, he wants to drag it back. Swallow each syllable, and letter, and never let you hear them again.

Because he’s sure you cry harder, louder. Even if it appears like you pull the phone away so he can’t hear how deep they go.

And you keep trying to spill out his name, a sentence here and there, trying to form as he pushes the phone against his ear, palm flattening against the wall—balling his fingers up—

“There won’t be…”

Sighing, he lets you take a breath. “Baby, of course, there will be. You’re good, I can tell, alright? And you’re brilliant and just cause those fuckin’ idiots can’t see—“

“I quit, Javi.”

The words he’d been about to say, fizz out on his tongue, die, fade. And it seems to only make you cry harder. His mind trying to catch up, to follow on with what is happening as you explain, in broken sobs, how your entire life seems to crumble apart all around you.

“I… I couldn’t take it. The reason, the explanation. How they gave it to the new guy, the one who doesn’t even know how Houston operates—and I just saw red, Javi. And I quit. Me? I… I just packed my desk up, left….”

He bites the inside of his cheek, listening as you take a breath—it sounds so much like defeat has replaced your sorrow.

“Then I just wandered. A box under my arm… and… I wanted to reply, but I didn’t know where to start. Like, ‘I miss you so much, but by the way, I didn’t get that promotion, and I snapped because they treat me like shit, so I quit. That my best friend is so excited because they’re paying for her to move this month for her new job, and my lease on my apartment is coming up’ and…”

“And what?”

It’s your turn to sigh, it more shaky and still embezzled with sniffles—fluttering down to his ear. “And…” you pause, his pulse suddenly quickening, waiting, mouth opening and then closing. “And, the person who would make me feel better isn’t even in the same State as me—because, I know this sounds crazy, but as soon as I heard why I didn’t get that job, all I wanted… well, all I wanted was you.”

Me?

His lips curl, sliding up into his cheek. His eyes look up, dancing around the marks on the wall as he straightens his spine, and swallows back whatever lump had been forming.

“I just…” you continue, “wanted to be back in that hotel room. Curled up in your arms.”

“You….” Clearing his throat, he tries again. “You know how we could solve that? You could come here—clear your head… just for a minute. Get all the hugs you want.”

You let out a noise, low, shifting it from it to a breath in record time. “Well, I wouldn’t be much fun. I’d just spend it in your bed.”

“That doesn’t sound all that bad, baby.”

“Sleeping and crying, do it for you, charmer?”

He grins, before rolling his lips. “Not if it’s not from how good I make you feel, no. But. I just—want you to have options.”

You go silent, far too quiet for his liking, until he hears the sound of movement, shuffling. His ears honing in, trying to work out what it is you’re doing, could be doing.

“What am I actually gonna do, Javi?”

Fuck. It suddenly dawning on him how unequipped he is for this. For comfort—for being there for another person. He barely looked after himself before, never mind since he came home. He hasn’t got a fucking clue what to say to even begin to make someone feel better, never mind someone who means as much to him as you.

“I… I quit my job. Without even finding another one—that’s… that’s crazy, insane—I don’t do these things and-and—“

Rolling his head on his neck, he ran a hand over his face. Trying to buy a second or two, digging deep for an answer—something comforting that would help.

“You, baby, are gonna get some sleep, and tomorrow we’re gonna sort it.”

He hears you swallow. Loud, followed shortly after by a sigh.

“We?”

You say it quietly, full of disbelief.

Because only you still wouldn’t realise how deep he is in with you. If he could, if he could risk hijacking the moment to explain, he’d tell you how worried he’s been, how he’s been obsessively checking and clicking, to the point he’s pretty sure he’s taken some life of his phone battery for it.

Swallowing, he bites his lip, nodding to himself. “It’s you and me, ain’t it, cariño? You’re not… you don’t have to figure this out alone, is all I mean.”

It’s soft—the way you reply, okay. Delicate. He’s hopeful it’s accompanied by a smile, one with a nose scrunch.

“Javi?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“Can you… can you stay on the phone with me?”

Pulling a stool over, he sits himself down on it. The ache in his chest widened, a lump in his throat forming. “Sure, baby. You want me to talk about anything in particular?”

“Not sure…”

“What would you do if I was there?”

He swears he hears you smirk.

“I would cook you almond saffron chicken.”

Shifting on the stool, he adjusts the phone in his hand. “Yeah? How come?”

“It’s the first dish Aish taught me to make, and I think you’d like it. And, I’m quite hungry, I… I didn’t really feel up to food before. But maybe, y’know, if I came to see you, had the chance to cook, maybe over a long weekend?”

Smirking, he lets out a content breath. “I like the sound of it already…”

“Because of me cooking in your kitchen?”

Laughing, he rolls his lips. “No, because it would mean you were here, cariño.

Morning baby, hope the cows aren’t trying to eat your shirt.

morning hermosa why are you up so early

Well, I thought of having a lie in but decided to grab a coffee, print off some CVs and not look as desperate as I feel.

if it makes you feel better im pretty sure my pop would hire you in a heartbeat

Bet I’d look real good in dungarees.

fuck baby

Could even wear your shirt, tie it so it’s a crop.

youre killing me

I’ll leave you with that, I have a list of places to beg to give me a chance.

wouldnt need to beg me

Stop, baby. Save it for later.

He’d barely dried himself off before your text came through.

Javi had found that the one upside to you being unemployed was the amount of time you had to reply or call—something he wasn’t complaining about in the slightest.

In a way (a small, acceptable way), it felt like a taste of what it would be like if the two of you lived closer. If there weren’t towns, cities and states between the two of you. If you lived close by, or better yet, on the ranch with him.

Across the last few days, while you’d seemed upbeat through text—just as you were when the two of you were in Houston—he quickly realised how much of a mask that was when he had you on the phone.

If not for the fact that when you ended the call, you seemed more yourself than when it started, Javi would have already begged someone from a ranch or two over to help, and book a flight out to surprise you.

“Hello, charmer.”

Grinning, he runs his hand over his chin. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Well, I have good news.”

“What’s that then?”

“Remember when I said I had to meet with someone in Houston, from imports? Well, apparently, they’ve been trying to get hold of me at work—one of the few nice people there let me know, even passed my details on.”

It begins—right in his stomach. A nervousness, a bubble—it rising and rising, sliding into his heart as it makes it beat just that much quicker.

“He wants to meet with me… apparently, I impressed him?”

“That’s—fuck, that’s amazing, baby.”

Javi can almost hear your grin as you laugh—can even picture you hiding your face in your hand at his happiness.

“Yeah,” you say, more in a sigh than anything else. “It’s obviously just an interview—maybe even a chat, but it’s something.”

Tracing the back of the phone with his finger, he runs his fingers up his neck, up his chin—

Pulse thumping in his neck. “I could… Could always drive up, see you after?”

“Oh… um?”

Oh? He thinks. The noise suddenly on repeat. It’s all he can hear—that little surprised noise rips from your throat and punctures his ear. His own fingers scratching at his cheek.

And then you clear your throat, and he grits his jaw. “Well, if you wanted, once I’ve had my meeting with him, I was going to ask if I could come to Laredo, see the ranch… and you?”

Just as quickly as it came, the earlier shame from your ‘oh’ vanishes. It bursts, erupts into a thousand pieces of nothing as the edges of his lips begin to curl up.

“For a second, didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

You don’t laugh, don’t ridicule his confession, and if you were here, he’d imagine you’d have tilted your head in that way you do.

“Javi, of course, I want to see you. I…” you take a long pause as though battling with yourself. “Baby, I’ve been trying to find my way back to you since the moment I left you. There’s nothing I want more than to see you. I promise.”

His shoulders descend from his ears, a smile spreading across his face so large—he’s not sure anything could take it. Something inside of him shifted, sliding back together.

“So, do you mind if I come to see you on your ranch? Bother your animals, let me admire your fence work?”

If he hadn’t been sure before, he’s sure now he would have kissed you. Grip you by your cheeks and crash his mouth to yours, stealing that question mark from the air and using his lips to remind you that with him, you never need it.

But, since he can’t, he finds words. One’s that are more eloquent than ‘fuck, yes’, but are close in family to it.

Because, of course, he wants to see you. He never wanted to let you go in the first place.

an: we have next weeks and then an epilogue, and LNT 'main story' will be done. honestly, thank you for all the love as we've gone on this journey. i never expected this for one second, and i'm so emotional right now at how well loved/supported this story has been. i'm gonna miss it, so much.

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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bloompompom · 1 year

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Room for Dessert

in which you help your boyfriend discover he may or may not have a thing for getting you pregnant

♡ content: eren jaeger x female reader. one shot. domestic au/established relationship, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy/menstrual cycle, semi-public masturbation (car), some temperature and food play, possessive behavior/language, overstimulation, marking, pet names (baby), explicit sexual content, explicit language. reader discretion advised. ♡ word count: ~3.1k

You’d been with Eren for a while now and not once had you seriously talked about having kids.

The closest you’d ever come to it was throwing out a suggestion for a baby name just for the other to inevitably shoot it down in jest. Sometimes Eren would offhandedly say how much he looked forward to insert stereotypical fatherly activity here—you know, playing catch, pillow forts, that sort of thing. Or you’d find yourself fawning over a pair of baby shoes in a department store because, ohmygosh, who knew human beings could be so small? And you had to admit it: the thought of Eren wearing a baby carrier made you laugh.

But you had a lot of steps between now and then—whenever that moment eventually came.

That was why it came as such a surprise to Eren when he found your used pregnancy test. He discovered it in the bathroom during an afternoon spent cleaning. On his way to take out the trash, he passed you in the living room and asked about it.

You didn’t look away from the TV when you replied, “My last period was a few days late.” You were always careful enough with your birth control, but you figured it couldn’t hurt to double-check. When the test came back negative, it was barely a blip on your radar. You didn’t think it was worth mentioning. “Not pregnant, though, so worries there.”

All Eren said back was, “Oh,” like he was expecting there to be more. You didn’t read into it any further than that.

In hindsight, you should have, because it was still on Eren’s mind on the way to dinner. Your friend Jean had been seeing some girl and requested the social lubrication of a double date. You agreed to it; you just wished he didn’t choose to phrase it like that.

“You know, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen,” Eren said rather casually, like you were supposed to know what he was talking about. To you, it seemed like a weirdly existential—and delayed—answer to your simple question, ‘Can we get ice cream after?’

You gave him a look that was strange enough for him to clarify, “You getting pregnant, I mean.”

“We still live in an 800-square-foot apartment, Eren,” you reminded him.

“850,” Eren corrected. You rolled your eyes. You wanted to again when he added, “And, hey, you were the one talking nonstop about that condo we looked at.”

It was cute, you reminisced. But in your head, you continued to list all the steps you’d effectively bulldoze over if you were to get pregnant right now. “We’re not even married. What would your parents think?”

“They’ve been up my ass about grandkids since they met you, you know that.” Eren stole a glance, his eyes skipping from the road just to give you a quick once-over. “Besides, I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me I’m gonna be with you forever.”

For a fleeting moment, you couldn’t breathe because your heart swelled too big for your chest. You didn’t like the feeling, but only because the timing couldn’t be worse. The stirring in your stomach was trying to convince you to ditch dinner, so you laughed it off.

At least, you tried to. Eren worsened the knot in your gut when he said, “And you’d look, like, ridiculously hot if you were pregnant.”

You laughed again, for real this time, and held your arms out in an exaggerated loop around your belly. “Oh, yeah? My stomach would be out to here. You think that’s hot?”

“You’d make it hot.”

Right then, Eren wasn’t thinking about the traffic light he was stopped at. He was too busy thinking about you—pregnant, of course. Soft and swollen tits. The glowy look about you as you carried his child. He was pretty sure he had heard somewhere that pregnant women were always horny, too, which he wouldn’t mind one bit, obviously.

He’d take care of you, just like he always did. And once you were bigger, still just as needy and achy for him, he’d lie you on your back and coo, ‘Here, let me do all the work for you.’

Eren thought about it long enough that you had to tell him when the light turned green. And when he confessed, with boyishly pink cheeks, he needed a minute after you parked, you cackled. Apparently, your teasing and poking only made it worse, and he swatted you away when you asked what he was thinking about to make his boner go away.

Sure, you made fun of him for it, but deep down, you still wished you had asked him to turn the car around and go home. You made it abundantly clear throughout dinner.

During your separate conversations, Eren with Jean and you with Pieck—no longer just some girl to you—you made random and lingering eye contact. The look you shared with Eren, as long as the tick of a clock, had you suppressing a grin. Him, too. He slipped his hand on your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. After, you fell back into your own conversations.

And when you were back in the car, you told him, “I still want ice cream, you know.”

You didn't really want it; you just wanted to tease him. And you could see it on his face that he knew it—how it was washed over with blatant disbelief. But beneath it, he was looking at you like he wanted to tear your clothes off. You weren’t sure if he was trying to hide that, though, so you encouraged him with a coy smile.

You could hear it already, how he was about to shake his head and mutter, ‘You’re unbelievable,’ under his breath because—hello? Wasn’t the whole ice cream idea scrapped the moment you batted those fuck me eyes at him in the restaurant?

But you were wrong. Eren shifted the car into reverse, peering over his shoulder as he backed out with just a hand on the top of the wheel. He didn’t shake his head at you, and his voice was far from a mutter when he spoke.

“We can get ice cream.” He was stern about it—how he used his free hand to take your own and shove it between your legs. “But I want you to get it ready for me before we get home."

Your breath hitched in combination with Eren’s command and your surprise at how wet you were already. You could feel it through your underwear. The flowy cotton of your dress made it easy to slip your fingers beneath the band.

It was dark out. Streetlights and billboards spattered colors against the sky, all of which were dimmed by the car’s tinted windows. You focused on that—that no one could see you. You repeated it again and again as you rubbed small circles against your clit.

You didn’t know where to look. Your attention wandered from your trembling hand down to your shoes planted against the rubber mat. Then you figured you should maybe try and close your eyes.

Eren could only risk small glimpses of you—eyes all lusty and smug—and even that felt intimidating. But when he looked at you, like really looked at you, right in the face, he smiled. You moaned softly and added a bit of pressure.

Every twitch of your fingers pulled another breathy sound from you. You only stopped once you arrived at the drive-thru, but he directed you to keep going, even as he scanned over the menu.

It felt so dirty—you felt so dirty. You were soaked. But you weren’t thinking about the mess because Eren was working your hand for you until you were so, so close to coming. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you didn’t listen to a thing Eren said as he ordered for you.

Eren slipped his hand from you, then took yours away, too. You whined before realizing it was only because he had to drive to the window. Once you were back on the road, he returned your hand between your legs, just like before. You continued where you left off while he stole a few bites from your ice cream sitting in the cupholder. He was nice enough to spoon you some, too.

Eren was a physical person. Always hugging, touching you everywhere. He liked to keep a hand on you, especially while driving, so you imagined this was difficult for him—especially as you reached over to try and feel him, too.

When you were home, Eren unlocked the door and opened it wide enough for you to step inside first. You could anticipate where this was going, and you were already thinking, ‘he’s so predictable,’ when he kissed you.

He kissed you the way you knew he wanted to kiss you in the car—and in the restaurant, and even on the drive to the restaurant. He kissed you, his head tilted into yours, like he had never known the taste of your tongue until now.

Everything about him was hot. His lips on your collarbone. His hand on the side of your face. Even his breath as he pulled away.

You didn’t like the look on his face when he asked, “You said you wanted dessert first, yeah?”

He led you by the hand to the kitchen. You watched as he set down the ice cream first, then turned to you next. He palmed over your hips before lifting you by them. He placed you on your island countertop, with your dress hiked high up your legs and him snug between them.

He wrapped his hands around your jaw and brought you in for a kiss. It was at your lips first, then the corner of your mouth. You lolled your head back, letting his lips ghost over the front of your throat. When his tongue dipped into your collarbone, you took his shirt between your fists and yanked him close.

When you thought he was about to take off your dress, he went for the ice cream instead. You didn’t know what to think—even more when he took a bite. But as he let the ice cream cool his mouth, just before he swallowed, you couldn’t shy away in time before his icy lips were back on you.

You felt them in all the places he had warmed before, making the chill even worse. You giggled and fussed until he was laughing a little, too, right against your neck.

Eren fed you a bite next. It sat there, vanilla swirling on your tongue, until it melted down the back of your throat. You weren’t as nice about it when it was your turn. You dragged him to you only to lick a broad stripe up his cheek.

He groaned, half playfully with the other half probably a bit irked, and wiped off the sticky, sugary smear with the back of his wrist. You made up for it with a kiss and said, “Feed me another.”

He made a doubtful face at you but gave in anyway. You angled his face this time, allowing you to kiss at his ear. A breathy laugh left him, and as you grazed your lips down his throat, you felt his quickening pulse.

Eren sat you back by your shoulders and kissed you again. He tasted like sweet cream. He looked at you with big eyes when he pulled back, his bottom lip still wetted from your kiss, and you watched him play with the hem of your dress.

“I’m going to take this off, okay?”

You nodded.

Eren did just as he said, but he took off your bra, too. As he ate more ice cream, he whispered, “Lay back for me.”

Once again, you did as you were told. His eyes never veered from you once as he licked the ice cream at the corner of his lips.

It felt strange, laying on the counter in just your panties. The quartz was cold against your back. You were already shivering by the time Eren took one of your nipples into his mouth, his chilled tongue flicking over it. Your other was occupied with his hand, rolling it between his deft fingers that were just as hot as ever. You didn’t know what to focus on—the cold or the hot—so your mind went a bit numb.

You ditched the ice cream eventually, casting it aside just as quickly as Eren did with your underwear. He was much more focused on you, anyway. Pumping his fingers in and out of you in a way that had you softening faster than the ice cream.

And when you came, it was from his tongue, hot and wet as he licked you through your orgasm. Your head jolted up from the counter, a flurry of curses pouring from you.

“God, that was so hot,” Eren murmured, your quivering legs framing his face.

He came up to roughly bring you in for a kiss. His fingers curled around the back of your head and jerked you to him. You were so close—so feverishly tangled up in each other—that you couldn’t breathe in a way that didn’t sound pathetic and guttural. But neither could he.

And when he spoke, it was on a sharp inhale, only letting you go because he needed air eventually. “I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do right now.”

You didn’t say anything. You just took your legs in your hands and held them out of the way for him with a smile. It looked like his heart stopped beating right then.

Eren’s pants were around his ankles in a matter of seconds, the tip of his cock right at your entrance.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He waited until you did so. Only when you met his green eyes did he say, “That’s my girl,” and push inside you.

You watched his eyes close, groans parting his lips as he filled you. With a few rolls of his hips, you were taking all of him with no resistance. And when his body was flush with yours, you felt the blunt of his nails dig into your hips.

You loved every bit of it.

Eren’s eyes were still closed when you quietly asked, “Feel good?”

“Mhm.” Then after a pause and a twitch of his brow, “Too good.”

He stopped moving to collect himself. You giggled together, with him quieting down as he admired how you were spread and breathless below him. Then he got that look on his face again, like he couldn’t bear to hold back any longer.

He thrust inside you again, bottoming out in one go. He fucked you with long drags of his cock, but it wasn’t long before the smacking of skin echoed through the kitchen. Eren bunched his shirt out of the way, taking the bottom of it between his teeth so he could watch his cock bury into you over and over and over again. Your hands blindly searched for something—anything—to hold onto, and you clawed down his stomach.

Through gritted teeth, he muttered sweet nothings to you. He told you that you were his. How good you felt. So fucking good. He whispered how beautiful you were as he ran his fingers over your body. And when you felt his fingertips press into your stomach, you already knew what he was thinking.

“Maybe I should get you pregnant,” he said with feigned thoughtfulness. Just the words alone made your toes curl. He leaned over you, his voice a spitty mumble against your chest as he said, “So everyone will know that you’re mine.”

He bit down, sucking at the delicate skin just below your collarbone. You couldn’t think of anything but how good it felt.

Eren straightened out, his pace never breaking once. “That way you know I’m the only one that can fill you like this.” He clutched his hand around your own and pinned it to the counter. You could feel the love in it—his need for you—just as much as you felt his possessiveness. “That I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

You came then, loudly, with your bottom half spilling off the counter as you did. When you went limp, Eren slid a hand beneath your back and dropped you to the floor. He flipped you to your hands and knees, placing a flattened hand against the small of your back to arch it nicely for him.

Your legs were shaking. You could feel the muscles of your thighs stutter and threaten to give out. It was a chant of ‘oh fuck’ that spilled from you as you reached behind to try and grab onto Eren. It was almost too much, you were still sensitive, and you could barely hear him over the pounding in your ears as he shushed you.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” You were squirming too much for him. He yanked you back onto his cock. “We’re gonna keep going ‘til you’re full of my come.”

You only made a strangled, wimpy noise.

“That’s okay, right? For me to come inside you?” he asked, still in the same tone that was as sweet as artificial sugar.

“Uh-huh.”

“Use your words. Tell me where you want me to come.” Eren was close; you could tell he kept his voice low to hide the quiver.

“In me,” you moaned, slipping from your hands to your elbows.

“Say it again. Louder.”

“In me!”

He pounded into you senselessly, the snapping of his hips growing erratic as he collapsed over you. His warmth cloaked over you, his chest pressed against your back as you begged for him. ��Please—please fill me up and make me yours.”

His hips rammed against your ass a few more times before, as promised, he came inside you. With a toss of his head, his hands worked you back on his cock a few more times, making sure he pumped every last bit of his come into you. He groaned, harder than you had ever heard before. The sound that tore through his throat had you already pining for the next time he’d finish inside you.

Eren released you to fall to the tile. It felt good to lie there, letting it cool your balmy skin. You were still catching your breath as you rolled over to your back. Eren sat back on his heels, appearing just as taken as you.

“Where did that come from?” you asked.

“I, uh—” He laughed a bit awkwardly and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not really sure.”

You studied each other for a lengthy moment, him trying to be modest about looking where his come was leaking from you.

Eventually, you broke the silence to ask, “So should I stop taking my birth control?”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut

1K notes · View notes

blueberryarchive · 5 months

Text

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 18+

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 3.2k words

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ still working on it. smut (non-con, mnster fucking, long tongue, bg dck! jimin, somnophilia, forced voyeurism?) scary (?) confusing, angst.

If there is a God, he must be a cynical, cruel, tentative being.

Jimin squeezed his chin hard, his skull throbbing, eyes fixed on your wool coat-clad back. He was beginning to hate that olive green macrame that contorted in your tense muscles that you hadn't let him see for a couple of weeks.

Jimin thought that maybe it was your period the reason you didn't want him to touch you, that the headaches at night were from the stress of being so far from society.

He always tried to be a good husband: making you tea, murmuring sweet nothings to you before going to sleep, giving you your space while he took Pepper for a walk to the lake. But winter has gotten crueler, the naked trees are like veins in the eyes of the white sky, pulsant and hideous, and your wall has grown in size.

The nights have become silent. You only know how to do one activity besides sleeping: cooking. Mainly meats: grilled, baked, stewed and steamed. With spices, drunk in wine, boiled with basil, cut into pieces, and shredded by hand. Jimin started to hate the pungent smell of dead cows.

Every night, you ate quietly at the table, and for Jimin to get the words out of you, it felt like he had to put his hand down your throat and spread them on the table. Barely audible, barely sentences.

It was a late winter afternoon, Jimin had tried to be flirty for the first time in a while since there was little time before he had to work again, and he wouldn't see you again for months.

It was a simple kiss on your neck that made your skin crawl, and you almost cut yourself with the knife in fear.

He was now sitting at the island, the kitchen illuminated by the grayish sun of cold afternoons. You were cutting the fat from a calf with the precision of a butcher. Jimin had both hands covering his mouth, thoughtful.

"Mom asked about you. I told her you were at the lake." He murmured to cut the tension of that odd rejection.

"I was sleeping." You put the knife aside, looking for another piece of meat in the refrigerator. Almost four pounds on the table, but Jimin didn't want to engage in your weird fucking activities.

"I've already told her like twice that you've been sleeping, she'll think you're sick or something."

You did not answer.

"I'm fine, it's just the nightmares. I don't sleep at night."

"I know, I know." Jimin sighed.

He felt sorry about every time he found you curled up on the living room furniture, sweaty and breathing fast; you were sleeping but seemed forced.

"When we go to Joon's house in the summer, we'll look for a doctor."

Your head tensed, tilting. Then you denied it.

"Don't you want to see a doctor?"

"I'm not going to Namjoon's house this year." You huffed like it was obvious.

Jimin frowned, both hands falling to the cold marble in surprise.

"But this year I'm bringing my parents to meet you, Namjoon is getting married in July, I don't-" he snapped, but you shook your head again while still doing your mechanical cut and throw movement.

Jimin cleared his throat, and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

"What?" You responded innocently.

"You really don't want to see my mom?"

"Jimin, I'm getting tired of this."

"What are you going to do, take another nap?"

The blood from the meat on your hands began to drip down to your wrists, the metallic smell causing you a voracious appetite.

"You want wine with the grill?"

"Are you fucking serious right now?"

You sighed, counting to ten. Just a few more hours.

"You can invite her to the cabin, if that's what you want. God knows how much we need someone else in this place."

"I already told you we'll go in a week."

"Without consulting me."

"What should we talk about? We've been planning this for a year."

"I don't feel like going anymore."

"These days you don't feel like doing shit."

You chopped the carrots on the bloody board, the chopping making noises in the immense silence between the two of you.

"It's like you want me to leave." He spoke.

You stood up when you pressed the knife on the cutting board; the tip stuck into the wood.

That violence, pure and irrational force.

You looked at him with erratic eyes, Jimin didn't know if you were offended or not. Your hands clenched the counter, and your lips trembled trying to say something.

When you lowered your gaze, Jimin knew that your shoulders had not collapsed because of his tone, but because what he said was true.

"Oh my God, I'm right." A pained laugh. His body leaned back on the island that separated you two. "Is there anyone else?"

Silence.

Jimin's skin chilled when before turning to the meat again, barely visible, he saw a tiny smile lining your lips. Self-conscious and cruel.

Before he could think, the sweet husband's façade had broken and with long steps, he approached until he turned you over with his fists in that damn coat. You looked at him with wide eyes, and you wiped your mouth as if the fact that Jimin was going to kiss you disgusted you. The blood of the calf covers your lips.

You were cruel, and he wanted so much to love you, to hug you and hit that distant look on your features. To squeeze your cheeks and spit in your face so you get off that fucking cloud. That you wouldn't look at him with so much hate, with that thousand-yard stare. Take that fucking knife and put it near your beautiful neck and scream 'LOVE ME AGAIN, I FUCKING DESERVE IT'.

"You think this is a fucking game? I've been wanting things to go back to normal since October, but you," His nose wrinkled. "You have become nothing, you are just another object in this useless old cabin."

Your eyes seemed to get closer and closer to Jimin's, your pupils dilating.

"And even as an object I can't fuck you, you're useless." He let go of your coat and walked away, each word dying in his throat. He couldn't believe that he could talk to his wife like that, what kind of man was he?

Then, a single person came to his head.

"Are you seeing Ryan?"

Ryan was the one who sold the land to Jimin, every now and then he would pass by the road and stop to drink coffee and fish in the lake with Jimin. It's not that Ryan is an attractive man, nor a man who knew how to talk to women because he was a first-class hermit. He was not a man you would cause your marriage to fail with...

...Right?

"That's it. I'm going to sell the house."

"No." You were quick, your shoulders rose as if a puppeteer had lifted your strings, and you trembled again, denying.

"No, please."

"So it is because of Ryan?'

You inhaled all the air in the room, your eyes a predator.

"Ryan is a parasite in front of him, filth, a mere fly on the wall." You barked causing echoes to reverberate off the walls of your boyfriend's chest. Your trembling fingers covered your mouth instantly.

The knife in your hand, the fingers bloody from the fresh meat, that green coat that you didn't take off, the tangled hair. Jimin didn't recognize you, your sweetness had turned bitter; like a viscous liquid made from plants. Raw and strange.

"You're a fucking whore." His voice trembled, the sting of tears wanting to flow like shooting water.

He took his coat, with a whistle he called Pepper and they both went with a roar through the wide, dense forest.

The afternoon became denser in the forest, the leaves did not move and Pepper spent the entire way sniffing the trees, howling at the birds that passed by without squawking. Jimin put a hand in his coat, the other looking for some signal to call Hoseok, his mother, the damn police. Whoever.

He found his headphones in his jacket and placed them on top of his head, connecting them to his cell phone. He turned on the Bluetooth.

Connected.

"Come on, fuck." He mumbled until Hoseok's number started ringing in his ears. It rang once, twice, five times before he could hear anything.

"Seok, couldn't you last longer to answer the damn call?" The lake did not move, his boots made the wood of the dock squeak as he walked from one side to the other.

"No, I just need you to help me with something, I don't want Joon or my mom to worry, but I need you to find a doctor and come here...p-preferably someone with knowledge of mental problems."

Disconnected.

"Hello? Hoseok, hello." He repeated, turning on the Bluetooth again.

"No, it's just a little seasonal depression, but I don't want it to escalate into something worse."

Disconnected.

"Shit, fucking headphones." On impulse, he grabbed the device with the cell phone and threw it as hard as possible into the gray water.

And with the cell phone falling, he glimpsed the pale skin of a being on the other side of the lake, it didn't look like a bear or a deer. Pepper started barking, loud and fast.

"Quiet." Jimin tried not to alarm the creature emanating from the foliage, his dark eyes approaching the evening light.

Jimin stayed still until he saw how the creature's feet approached the tip of the other dock, his eyes narrowed to see his own reflection, blonde hair, and the same features. A being as tall and wide as a log, he was wearing a coat that Jimin had given up for lost months ago, but it was dirty and torn due to the size of the beast.

He was seeing a Behemoth in his own skin. A dim Jimin, a monster, an abomination of himself.

His feet began to move as the animal threw itself toward the water in his direction. Pepper stayed behind him, but he couldn't think of saving her. He was going to die.

He prayed it was a hallucination of his tired brain, a joke of his own mind. But he could hear the earth tremble with each approaching footstep.

Every tree looked the same, the path home had vanished and all he could do was scream for his mother, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Mom, please, help. Help." He screamed as his feet were grabbed, the wet earth choking on his whimpers.

"Help!" The creature screamed even louder, in the same voice but drowned.

Crawling wasn't worth it, the creature had grabbed him by his hair and flipped him over. Seeing his face, rough and full of scratches, caused an abominable pain in Jimin's chest; he wanted to vomit out his organs and die before continuing with this terrifying reality.

The last thing he remembers is his head crashing into a log, the guttural roar of his mammoth twin, and the green inferno engulfing his body as he falls to the ground.

When he opened his eyes, Jimin was in his room, his body tied to a couch in the corner. His mouth was muffled with a kitchen rag: the disgusting, metallic taste of the beef made him nauseous.

His eyes were guided to where your body was lying, you had the Prince t-shirt that Jimin had given you on. Your wet hair, the smell of coconut shampoo, the shower running in the other room, Pepper's howling in the distance. This was the first time you looked so angelic in a long time, so peaceful in your own dreams.

He couldn't move, his body felt heavy and slow. His fingers moved, his eyes too but it was as if it was a ghost of his body.

You sighed suddenly. With his hair standing on end, Jimin tried to call you but his voice didn't come out of his lips, a mere hoarse. Word dust.

Your body stood up unsteadily. You rolled your head to the entrance and smiled: there it was, on all fours, his mouth dirty with blood from the meat you had saved for him, those cupped pupils that you missed.

His body crawled closer until it reached your knees where he pressed his huge hand on one of your thighs, the wine bottle running down your body with each touch.

"Love," he roared until he climbed and transformed into a tower above you, nearly seven feet of pure dedication. You fed him daily with everything you had in the house. "My love."

That's what he called you. Jimin shook his head in the corner, his eyes threatening to close, his neck stretched out trying to reach you uselessly.

"Ah," his pale black tongue unrolled to reveal discolored pills at the tip.

You stuck out your tongue and let the creature's hands squeeze your neck so you would open wide, open better so his tongue would enter directly into your throat. The tickling in your esophagus from the movement of the wet muscle had your core tight.

When you stuck your tongue out, saliva connected both of your mouths, your eyes tilted; drunk and in love.

"More," he claimed, taking your small body in his hands until he had you anchored to his waist, both legs dangling. His fingers tore away what was covering your pussy, and Jimin could see the marks on your body, some yellowish about to fade, others a vivid red.

You lowered his sweat with the balls of your feet, his thick red cock throbbing at your entrance. Your body began to feel the effect of the sleeping pills, turning you into a nebula hanging from a warm mass.

When the tip entered you screamed into his chest, your nails scratching the flesh until it bled. The monster groaned in pain and knocked you to the ground causing the floor to shake with the weight of both of you.

You didn't have time to complain as his sharp teeth clamped down on your shoulder to keep you from moving as he took his cock all the way in, blood pouring from your shoulder.

The pain was such that you imagined how the inside of your organs was breaking, the bones creaking under his hands on your breasts, your voice becoming a thread until it was silent with each roar in your ear.

The watery, repetitive sound. The bulbous tip covered in juices went in and out so easily that the fabric covering your stomach seemed like it wanted to tear at any moment.

"Fuck, fuck, Minnie. Hurts good." It was like you were communicating with a caveman, but your brain didn't function properly when it came to him.

"Good, I like hurting you." Thick, dark blood ran down to his chin as his tongue smothered you again. Your eyes closing, your hands trapped in one of his. Your moans cover the dark heart of the beast with a soft layer until your limbs gave up, unconscious and so wet for them.

Little human trapped in his forest, an inferior being praising a God she does not understand out of pure lust. You were adorable, warm inside, you made him big and unstoppable and he thanked you by filling you with his cum every night after you fed him. That was your only request, every time.

Now he was named Minnie and you shouted his name every time he did something right. Learned words like more, hurt, inside, want, fuck.

And just because he molded himself into something you already had, you adored him.

His tongue came out to snake around one of your breasts, his wide, long thumb holding your mouth open. Your dead eyes casually open to see your tied husband, your head wobbling and arms hagging in the air with every pounding like a rag doll.

He couldn't bare it, you were being raped in front of his eyes, and he couldn't do anything else than stare at your unconscious body, like a fucking parasite, filth, a simple fly on the wall.

With a few steps, the creature approached Jimin, leaving your warm body on his lap. Your eyelids throbbed softly regardless of how the demon destroyed your pussy with every crash of his hips.

Your lips were wet with foreign blood, wet hair stuck to your temples, and open hands that fell to each side of the furniture.

You looked like the girl he had that morning when he showed you the cabin, like the one from the first night when you two made love on the living room rug, like the one that bathed naked in the lake even though someone could see her.

A nymph, just a beautiful wildflower.

And Jimin knew at that moment why that beast had you in his claws, why he grabbed you by the neck and squeezed you to wake up from your sweet dream.

When you looked up and saw your husband's face, Jimin knew that he had to give up, because that thousand-yard look was a path that was forbidden to him, that he did not know and could not learn.

You were no longer his but from the forest. A red and grotesque fairy, who moaned instead of singing and collected bones instead of flowers.

And yet you were more beautiful than ever.

You smiled at Jimin and your hands moved down his face to remove the dish towel and kiss him like you've never done before. The sulfuric smell of a dead animal on your soft lips was enchanting.

"Oh, God, yes." You whispered in your sleepy voice.

The Beast bruised your hips until pumping your pussy with cum, thick and gray.

You and Jimin looked at the growling monster, picking up pieces of the wooden floor with its long nails. They looked up, and exhaled deeply, snorting like an angry bull seeking respect.

Before you could say anything, he was gone. Leaving your bruised body between your tied husband's legs.

Your fingers brushed your face as you felt something damp: the tears in Jimin's eyes flowed like summer rain, thick and abundant.

"Tell your mom you'll find a better girl, okay?" Your lips trembled, trying to dry each drop from which another came out. Jimin nodded, bringing your forehead to his.

"Am I really not going to see you anymore?"

"Any time you want," you assured, your voice echoing a dozen times like whispers spreading across the room. A choir of hushed angels saying the same thing over and over again.

"Every time it rains, leave the door open, and I'll know you need me."

Your naked body turned to place Jimin's head on your chest, he sobbed himself to sleep, and you counted his eyelashes until it was time to leave.

With a kiss on his forehead, you let him sleep, when he woke up you were no longer there, the green coat was hanging in the back yard and the smell of your hair filled every corner, a floral ghost.

#jimin imagine #jimin smut #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts #jimin x reader #bts smut #jimin bts #jimin fanfic #bts jimin #bts x you #jimin angst #bts horror

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theperfectawful · 23 days

Text

Blind Item / Chapter 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC

Chapter 1: Gimme More

Rating: Explicit (18+) Series Summary: 2007. Hollywood, CA. As a former child star, you face the harsh reality of growing up in the unforgiving spotlight. A car crash on Sunset Boulevard and a cocaine scandal give you one option: Rehab. Reluctantly agreeing, you embark on a 90-day stay at Promises Malibu to attempt to salvage your career. But when Dieter Bravo arrives, your journey takes an unexpected turn. Drawn to each other, you navigate sobriety and the wreckage of your reputation. As the double standard of Hollywood's treatment of troubled stars becomes evident, you question if redemption is truly possible in a world of unequal consequences. Word Count: 11k

Content/Warnings: Age gap (~10 years, Dieter is in his mid-thirties), alternating POV, heavy drug use, illegal drug use, alcohol use, driving under the influence, frenemy dynamics, oral sex (f!receiving), dubcon/noncon, it is neither reader nor Dieter's finest hour when we meet them. Period-typical language and behavior, Hollywood assholes.

Notes: This is my first fic - I've never written or posted anything like this before, so please be kind and feel free to share any feedback or suggestions. I never would have been able to write something like this, let alone work up the nerve to post it, if it hadn't been for the kind and gracious support of @pennyserenade, @whatsnewalycat and @frannyzooey all lending me their advice when I slid into their DMs. They all inspire me endlessly with their work and talent and it’s because of their work that I was inspired to write something of my own.

Our reader is, for now, and unnamed OC. While I’ve done my best to avoid using physical descriptors of her, it should be noted that this story is a period piece that takes place in early 2000s Hollywood. The main character would have been a contemporary of stars like Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie, and there are certain assumptions I’ve made about what she looks like based on that factor of this particular story. The early 2000s could be dark, ruthless times, y'all, especially for young women in and effected by Hollywood. My intention is to examine that. Thank you for reading!

Desperate times call for desperate measures: sources say that this former child star’s team is working overtime to keep her employed. When she made her not-so-graceful exit from her latest film, the star cited conflicting schedules as the reason for her departure. The film’s producer has a different story: the Hollywood juggernaut has been heard around town calling the star unprofessional, accusing her of being late to her call times and using drugs in her trailer. She’s got a shot at a last resort: a return to television. Word is, the bad publicity has her team bargaining and drawing out sober contracts just to get her hired.

Whenever you were in town for work, you stayed at the Chateau Marmont. You were in Los Angeles often enough and long enough to justify buying a home there, but you refused, the idea of actually owning a home in LA never quite sitting right with you. Instead, you rented the same room each time you visited. You loved that little bungalow. The thick, lush landscaping shaded the windows and kept it nice and cool inside, and your front door was only a stone's-throw from the swimming pool.

It felt like home after a few years, anyway. These old, tucked-away places were what you liked most about Los Angeles, unlikely, quiet havens hidden between sky-high condos and overly sleek offices. The building breathed old-Hollywood luxury, vintage tiles and original hardwood floors and the ghosts of silent film stars wandering the hallways. The staff knew you well. The same breakfast was delivered to your door at noon every day. The top-tier maid service employed by the hotel kept the living room, kitchen, bathrooms and second bedroom impeccably tidy, though they were given clear instructions not to enter your bedroom.

Your bedroom did not inspire the same glamorous aesthetic as the rest of the hotel. Clothing was piled high against the walls and pouring out of dresser drawers, tags and receipts discarded in the wake. Empty bottles cluttered the hardwood floors, clear, crushed water bottles and rattly orange pill canisters. A full ashtray sat on a side table, a makeup mirror and various products scattered next to it.

In the middle of the room was a king-sized bed, an antique walnut headboard sprawling against the wall with a mountain of sheets and blankets layered atop a deep mattress. You laid swaddled in those sheets, rubbing your palms into your shut eyes and groaning as you rolled over, dragging your hands wide across your face to peek out at the clock on your nightstand.

4:41pm. You blinked, straining your eyes to focus and confirm you read that right. 4:41pm. Fuck.

Bleary-eyed, you reached for your phone, met immediately by a barrage of missed calls and unread messages when you slid it open.

MELANIE [3:21 AM]: Bathrrom

PETE [3:36 AM]: Did u leave

CORINNE [9:00 AM]: Call with NBC @ 1. Please be available. Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL: CORINNE

CORINNE [11:30 AM]: Confirming availability at 1pm. Corinne Roxford.

(212) 555-4325 [12:06 PM]: Hey gorgeous ;)

MISSED CALL [12:30 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [12:45 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [1:00 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:03 PM]: ??? Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL [1:05 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:07 PM]: Call immediately. Corinne Roxford.

“Hiiiii,” a soft, tired voice called from across the room. You looked up, squinting, at your best friend Natalie leaning in the doorway to the bathroom.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in response, peeking out from where you lay buried in the sheets. “Hi.”

She crossed the room, kicking piles of clothes out of the way and perched herself on the corner of the bed, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. You cracked open one eye, locking eyes with her. In an unspoken acknowledgment of your situation - what you got into last night, the state you’re currently in, the splitting headache you’re certain she has, too - you raised an eyebrow at her. She smirked back at you and the two of you erupted into laughter. You lifted yourself up to sit, pushing your foot into her side from under the covers.

“You were insane last night!” she accused, still smiling as she resumed brushing her teeth.

“Me!” your voice was raspy and you coughed. “Me? You were the one making out with the bartender.”

“He wasn’t a bartender. He said he was with the DJ or something.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s better,” you snorted, the sound muffled by the plush pillows that cradled your head. You rubbed your palms across your face again, feeling the coarse texture of your own tired skin. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of morning seeping through the half-closed blinds.

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, disrupting the quiet ambiance. You picked it up, groaning when you saw your manager’s name blaring across the bright screen. With a sigh, you slid it open.

“Hi, Corinne,” your voice was a hoarse whisper as you did your best to sound alive. Natalie stirred from her spot and crossed back to the bathroom, old floorboards creaking underneath her feet.

“I needed you on that call this morning. This is your career I’m trying to save here. Do you think I’m doing all of this for my health?”

“I mean… you’re not not…” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it. She is on your payroll.

“Very funny. I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re running out of friends and favors here, hun. I don’t think you want me to join that list.” Her sentence was punctuated by the sound of her horn honking and a muttered expletive. She sighs. “NBC still wants to speak with you, and soon, but they want to do a four-episode Growing special. The rest of the cast is on board, and they think if we play this right we can turn into a full-on reboot. But you have to straighten up, do you understand? I need you in the Santa Monica office first thing Monday to sign the paperwork.”

“I’ll be there. I promise.” Your eyes closed again, and you sunk into the plush embrace of the king-sized bed, the soft cotton fabric soothing against your skin.

“I don’t know how to make it any more clear to you how much trouble all of us are in. This is your shot at a comeback.”

“I understand.”

There’s a bit of silence, the noise of New York traffic floating through the airwaves and into your ear. You insisted on total honesty from Corinne, unable to tolerate your team coddling you, so her words might have hurt more if this was the first time you’d heard them. Or maybe if the haze you’d woken up in were a bit thinner.

“Tomlin and the team will be in on Thursday night to get you ready for the VMAs. I’ll see you then, too.” Corinne changed the subject, her voice a mix of stern professionalism and genuine concern.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet, a defensive baby voice you switched into when you were nervous, a trademark of yours that had been mocked by everyone from ex-boyfriends to the cast of Saturday Night Live. Corinne said goodbye and you felt Natalie’s weight return to your side.

You groaned, long and drawn out, tossing your phone into the labyrinth of sheets and blankets surrounding you. The show she referred to was a reboot of the sitcom you spent your childhood working on - Growing Together. It's one-half cast reunion, one-half desperate, nostalgic cash-grab. The producer you sat across from at the pitch meeting was almost delirious with excitement - explaining what a smashing success it was sure to be, a “televised homecoming for America's favorite family.” It took so much strength not to roll your eyes right in front of him that you thought you’d pop a blood vessel.

“Are you in trouble?” Natalie asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

"Yeah, almost always," you replied, casual in your admission. As you sat up, fully awakening, you stretched and planted your feet on the floor. You chugged the warm Vitamin Water on your nightstand before reaching for your bag on the floor and digging through its contents. Gum, a fluorescent orange paper wristband, a baby pink Juicy Tube, a black and white photobooth strip of you and Natalie with your tongues out. Not finding what you were looking for, you dumped it out onto your bed and continued rummaging through the items and garbage inside. Your iPod, a receipt from the drugstore, 3 loose cigarettes and half a dozen empty quarter-sized plastic bags. You sighed, shoving everything back inside carelessly.

“Did we finish everything last night?” You call out, patting the bed behind you, your gaze darting around in search of your phone.

“We?” Natalie’s laughter rang through the room. “I don’t know about ‘we!’”

“God, no wonder,” you muttered, the realization of this morning's particularly splitting headache dawning. Locating your phone again, you typed out a text message to your dealer, padding out of your room to the kitchen.

[5:13 PM]: Andyyyyyy. U going to Lush tonight?

You tapped the side of your phone restlessly for a beat, then texted again.

[5:13 PM]: Can you bring what u brought last night

In the kitchen, you opened the cabinet, revealing an array of neatly arranged pill bottles. Without looking, you pulled out a bottle of Advil and an empty glass. Seated at the kitchen table, engrossed in her Macbook, was your assistant, Rhea.

“Corinne’s pissed.” She said before she even looked at you, focused intently on the screen in front of her.

“Good morning,” you responded, filling your glass at the sink and beaming an exaggerated, pageant-queen smile at her. She scoffed in response.

“The sun is going down in… 40 minutes.” she retorted, her gaze flitting momentarily to the clock on the wall, then back down. You made a mockingly offended expression, hands lifting with dramatic flair.

“Time is a social construct, Rhea,” you declared, tossing back the Advil and chasing them with the full glass of water.

“Yeah, for you, maybe.” She muttered, still typing like a maniac.

You were fired six weeks ago.

The movie was meant to signal a departure for you, a leap into serious territory - a drama marking an overdue graduation from the teeny-bopper films you’d spent the last decade of your life making. You’d been lucky a year ago - a really excellent writer took a chance on an elevated high school comedy with you at the helm that had people in the industry, finally, taking you more seriously.

Seriously enough to get you in the door, at least. Being on set gave you a different impression. You felt as coddled as ever, still treated like an unqualified child star whose presence was more of a slightly annoying novelty than a creative asset.

You wanted to be treated like an adult - a real actress, a professional. This movie was supposed to accomplish that. Despite the fact that this project had a huge, award-winning director attached to it, it was subject to the same issues you’d experienced on countless, lower-tier productions. Poorly communicated call times, technical issues, handsy producers hanging around your trailer. The latter issue caused you to insist on Rhea being by your side whenever possible - power in numbers in an attempt to keep greasy Hollywood exec’s hands away from you.

You weren’t going out any more often than you usually did. Now that you were old enough to not have to sneak into clubs anymore, you were having fun. Though your evenings often bled into mornings, occasionally pushing the limits of your call times, it felt manageable. However, Corinne was relentless in reminding you of the stakes and your professional expectations: show up, behave, perform.

That morning, exhaustion hung over you more heavily than usual. The night before, you’d been out celebrating Natalie’s 23rd birthday. A friend of hers had just returned from Amsterdam and brought with him a bag of European ecstasy as a souvenir. After Le Deux closed, you threw an after party at the Chateau’s pool, you and Nat drank champagne on your floaties as the chemicals rushed through your systems. Your fingers dipped in and out of the heated pool, the two of you gossiping and giggling and floating along until the sun came up.

You were on set on time - early, in fact - but the MDMA had worn off and your energy was plummeting fast. You’d run through the scene several times with Rhea, but it didn’t seem to have helped much.

“Cut,” the director called out, sighing and stepping out from his position behind the camera. Your costar groans softly, standing up from his spot across from you and stepping away as the surrounding crew moves quickly to reset the scene.

“I’m sorry Alan,” you offered immediately as the director approached your mark. A makeup artist swoops in, tapping a brush to your under eyes.

“You’re furious with him, remember,” he coached you. “I understand it’s early, but I need you to manage to muster up some energy.”

You nodded, trying to focus despite the persistent buzzing in your head. “I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize to me like a punished child, I just need you to perform the way I’ve asked you to. Can you do that?”

"I'll get it right this time, I promise," you assure him softly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He eyed you skeptically, his weaning lack of patience with you made clear by his expression.

“We’ll break for five.” He called out to the room, still staring at you as you stood up and shuffled off behind him.

Rhea arrived at your side with your cell phone and a Red Bull. You flip open the screen as you walk, quickly scrolling through your text messages and trying to distract yourself from your dull, nagging headache.

“That was okay, right?” You asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the uncertainty in your voice. “Is it as bad as he says?”

“You were fine,” Rhea’s voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched as she held out the straw of your energy drink in front of you. Her eyes flit back and forth, scanning the area, and her voice lowers into a whisper as she continues. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m tired,” You brushed her off, shaking your head and handing your phone back to her. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

Rhea nods, a concerned eyebrow lifting as you arrive at your trailer. Everyone in your life was looking at you like that lately - as if doing anything less than completely coddling you would cause you to fly off the handle. The cautious glances, the careful choices of words, the subtle tiptoeing around your every move - especially from Rhea, who never gave a fuck about your feelings - it all grated on your nerves like an itch beneath the surface.

She held out her hand and you took it quickly, grabbing an orange bottle from her and slipping through the door of your trailer.

In your trailer, you sat at the vanity and closed your eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths before opening them and gazing at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bottle, pouring out two small pills on the counter in front of you. Scanning the surface quickly, you located a plastic card and pushed it against the pills with the ball of your hand. You pushed it again and again, finally finishing and scraping the excess powder from the card onto the table. Dragging the powder into two lines, you leaned down to inhale them and stood straight back up. You licked your finger and picked up the excess residue, pushing it into your gums and taking a couple more deep breaths to re-center yourself.

The acrid taste of the pills gave you a Pavlovian surge of energy, the anxious buzz in your chest subsiding and easing into a steady hum. You sat at the mirror, dragging a finger underneath your eye to wipe smudged eyeliner from your face. You sniffled, forcing the action into another deep breath and staring at yourself in the mirror. You belong here. You do. You know what you’re doing.

A sharp knock at the door pulled you back to reality with a jump.

“Jesus,” You called out “Alright, Rhea, one second!”

“It’s Alan. Open the door.”

Fuck. You frantically began cleaning the counter in front of you - slipping the credit card into your pocket and brushing your hands across the surface.

“Now!” Alan boomed from outside.

“Okay, okay!” You moved to the door and turned the lock, opening the door just enough for him to see you. You sniffled again, trying to camouflage the reaction with a cough. “Yes?”

Pushing the door firmly, Alan moved into your trailer, his body dwarfing yours in the small space.

“Listen to me,” he said, low but firm. “I’m done. I’m not doing this with you. I am not letting you fuck up my movie.”

“What?” You were dumbstruck.

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. You know exactly what I mean.” He was inches from your face now and getting angrier by the minute. You swallowed, desperately looking around for Rhea. Tears stung the corners of your eyes and you fought them, willing yourself not to blink.

“They’re prescribed,” you attempt. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t care what you do on your own time,” he continued “But this is mine. This is important to me and to everyone else out there whose livelihoods depend on this project, and I’m not going to let some spoiled, coked-out little actress spoil it.”

Your face burned with humiliation.

“Corinne fought hard to get you on this project. This was more of a fucking favor to her than you. But this movie does not live and die by your actions, do you understand me? You can kill yourself if you insist, but you will not pull my movie down with you. You’re fired.”

Your jaw dropped. You were unable to find words let alone choke them out. Rhea’s face was stark white when you spotted her just outside the door of your trailer, her cell phone firmly against her cheek, whispering into the receiver with her eyes wide.

“This is no longer viable for me or anyone else on this crew. I want you off my set now.”

You couldn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. He stood there for another moment before exiting the trailer and slamming the door behind him. The force of the slam caused the door to open slightly, revealing Alan standing in front of Rhea.

“I don’t want to see you here again.” He said to her, loud enough for you to hear, his voice stern and uncompromising. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on you for bringing drugs on my set.”

You hung in the doorway as he stormed away, and as the room swirls into focus you see the eyes of the crew on you, their faces filled with curiosity and concern. Turning your head, you quickly blinked away your tears and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

Officially, you’d been let go due to ‘scheduling conflicts’. It was flimsy, Hollywood jargon for your star showing up fucked up, and unfortunately, the euphemism did little to quell the relentless scrutiny surrounding you.

Rhea had shown you the footage of you that began making the rounds after your firing was announced - a creepy, shaky video leaked by some PA of Alan berating you on set, cut with another clip of you walking around the soundstage. It was embarrassing - your hair was disheveled and you were pacing around in a way that looked strange out of context, but there wouldn’t have been anything interesting about it at all if the rumor hadn’t gotten out that you’d been fired for your drug use. Since then, the attention on you had been relentless.

The paparazzi had been a regular part of your life since you were a young teenager. It, generally, wasn’t as bad in New York, which is part of the reason why you preferred to stay there, but in LA it felt as if you were never more than a few feet from a camera.

When you were 16 and working on your first film after Growing Together ended, you started going to clubs with your coworkers. No one ever gave you any trouble, and you didn’t even start drinking until you were 18, but despite that, the mere optics of a child star reveling in nightlife proved a lucrative angle for the media to exploit.

Since then, you were followed almost constantly. Leaving home, returning, getting groceries, getting your nails done, driving through McDonald’s - flashing lights in the corner of your eye were such a regular thing that you barely even noticed it anymore. There were photographers you knew at this point, friendly ones who knew your angles and creepy ones who constantly tailed your car.

It’d never been like this before, though. Literal throngs of photographers showed up anywhere you went, watching you like hawks, all waiting to swoop in on the slightest slip up. Going shopping was an event that needed to be scheduled in advance, boutiques needing to be warned that you’d be coming in so that they could prepare to lock doors behind you. Every step, every breath, felt scrutinized and captured for public consumption, leaving you suffocated beneath the weight of it all.

You were so angry about being let go - your behavior, truly, was no different from what any other actor your age was doing. You partied with your friends, you were out late sometimes, but you knew you were a good actress. It had been your passion since you were a child, and it was beyond frustrating to hear people tell you they loved you and wanted to see you win and then have them turn against you the moment you made a mistake.

So, although you’d behaved and spent the first week or two lying low at the insistence of Corrine, you were over it now. You stayed in LA, uninterested or unwilling to go home to your family and friends in New York and explain to them what's been going on. You were going out with Natalie every night, usually to Le Deux or Lush or Teddy’s. You stayed out late and slept in late and generally just did your best to avoid confrontation with any paparazzi or journalists or producers you’d pissed off.

You weren’t lying to Alan when you told him you were only taking what had been prescribed to you. It just happened that a lot of things had been prescribed to you. Lately, you’d been alternating between Adderall and MDMA for the last week or so, making you too speedy and anxious to really dwell on the current state of your career. You were, admittedly, running through your prescriptions more quickly than usual, causing you to need to make some calls in order to fill in the gaps.

Throughout dinner, you anxiously slid the screen to your Sidekick open and shut, open and shut. You thumbed through the wheel of apps, trying to will into existence a text from Andy that didn’t seem to be coming. It’s not exactly like you expected rigid punctuality from the guy who sold you drugs, but his radio silence was making you antsy.

[9:05pm]: Hellooooooooo

Natalie exclaimed as a tray of shots was delivered to the table, echoed by the group of acquaintances that you met up with at Don Antonios, the restaurant you always went to before a night out. Eagerly, you took one off the tray, blindly grabbing another as you knocked the first one back. You chased that shot with the other, the warmth of the liquid making you feel more like a human being and less like a raw nerve.

Seated to your right in the booth was a girl you kind of knew. She was always hanging out on the fringes of your group, some friend of a friend of a friend who was for sure going home and telling everyone she partied with you. She’d been gawking at you all night, beady eyes locked on you since you sat down, craning her neck and sitting uncomfortably close to you, your dress pinned under her studded jeans. You’d been resisting the urge to ask her what the fuck her problem was for the better part of an hour. As the group around you became distracted by the arrival of the shots, you seized the opportunity to confront her.

“Can you please get off of my dress?” you spat.

Her eyebrows shot up as she took her eyes off of you for what felt like the first time that evening to look down, apologizing and scooching over. She had tall red stilettos on and, when she looked back up at you, you could see the smudged mascara on her eyelid. Just as you were going to take the opportunity to move away from her, she leaned over to talk to you over the noise that surrounded you.

“Sorry. Hey, I’m Katie.”

You grimaced, not in the mood to talk to this person.

“Hi.”

You turn away for a beat, but your attention is grabbed again by Katie’s voice lowly in your ear.

“Hey, I have Xanax, if you want one,” the offer took you by surprise, the prospect lighting you up immediately.

“Oh, my god, I love you,” you said, quickly turning towards her and extending your palm. “Please?”

Downers really weren’t your thing, even booze wasn’t your favorite, but this evening was going to turn from boring to maddeningly insufferable fast if you didn’t get your hands on something.

“I know someone who needs one when I see them,” she laughed, discreetly dropping two pills into your palm.

The clubs in LA were the same thing every time. You showed up in big black SUVs, posed and made nice for the photographers outside for a moment and then clamored inside towards the booth that was waiting for your party.

It felt like high school. Well, you assumed, since your high school experience took place entirely on set. You saw the same people everywhere, all scattered around the room, broken up into their own little cliques. All gossiping, the room alive with murmurs and whispers. Who’d just shown up? Who was fighting with who? Who’d stolen whose boyfriend? It all felt so juvenile, but not being here was worse, so you put up with it. The people changed, but not really - you usually ended up surrounded by the same cast of promoters, wannabe socialites and greasy LA club dudes, swapped out every couple weeks by stand-ins and understudies and new arrivals. They circled your table like vultures, mingled with one another and made use of your tab while you sat engrossed in your Sidekick.

The night became slightly more tolerable once you’d taken one of the bars Katie gave you, but you were still desperately trying to get a hold of a dealer. By the time you left the restaurant and were climbing into the backseat of your car to head to Lush, you’d even resorted to texting backup options, people you’d partied with once or twice who you suspected might be around.

Sinking into the plush booth, you let your head loll to the side, eyes shutting against the assault of strobing lights. The steady, pumping rhythm of the bass sent a rattle through your bones.

After a minute, Natalie's hand landed gently on your knee, snapping you back to reality.

“You okay, girl?” She asked. Her voice felt distant, barely audible over the pounding bass reverberating through the room. The glitter on her eyelids shimmered in the blue light, the only part of her face you could clearly make out in the shadowy corner of the booth.

“I’m fine,” you answered impatiently, kicking your feet up into the seat next to you. Just then, your phone finally buzzed, your heart skipping a beat as your dealer’s name flashed across the screen

ANDY [11:03PM]: not goin tonite

You scoffed, pausing for a second before furiously tapping out a response.

[11:03PM]: FUCK U ASSHOLE

You hit send and threw your phone into your purse with a huff. You were going to have to come up with something else. Or maybe just slit your wrists right here at the table instead.

You surveyed your group as bottle service brought two large bottles of tequila to your table along with a tray brimming with shots. knew all it would take was a couple hundred bucks from a photographer outside for them to spill about how you’d begged them for coke. They'd probably do it for free just for the attention. You'd already asked Katie, but all she had was Xanax and a joint, and Natalie would've let you know if she got a hold of anything else.

You started scanning the rest of the room, looking for anyone you knew. The club was packed, some sort of launch party that’d booked a huge DJ filling even the VIP section from wall to wall.

Suddenly, your attention was grabbed by the sound of a man shouting at the booth directly across from yours. He was the typical guy you'd find in places like this: a douchey-looking producer type, each of his arms wrapped around two miserable-looking models to his left and right. Intrigued, you followed his gaze to see who he was yelling at.

Oh, bingo.

Dieter Bravo. You recognized him instantly. An actor like you, you knew you’d seen him around at award shows and parties, but you’d never met. His reputation preceded him, though; you knew he partied, knew that he, too, had been let go from movies due to 'scheduling conflicts' more than once. You knew he’d been in trouble for drugs. Last you'd heard, he'd been in the news for cheating on his wife or something. You were certain that all it’d take was a little bit of flirting and buttering him up to get him to share whatever he had with you.

Without a word to anyone, you rose from your booth, ignoring Natalie's questioning as you strode towards Dieter's booth. Immediately, though, you lost your footing, lightheaded from standing up too quickly. You brushed it off, saved from a fall by someone at your booth. Straightening your dress, you grabbed a bottle of tequila before pivoting on your heel and starting back towards Dieter.

Dragged out against his will, Dieter was a guest of honor at a launch party for Elysium Fragrances, the cologne brand he’d shot a campaign for last year. His presence was requested tonight as a make-good for being a no-show at the launch of his own campaign, instead being spotted that evening by the California Highway Patrol speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway with a model in the passenger seat.

He’d been stopped by a cop as he attempted to pump gas, some asshole photographer seizing the opportunity to swoop in on the interaction and hurl all sorts of insulting names at his date. Dieter lost his patience, blowing past the cop to shove the paparazzo to the ground, shattering his camera in the process. He was arrested that evening on five charges - assault and battery, destruction of property, drunk and disorderly conduct, assault of an officer (come on) and, thanks to a thorough search of his car, possession with intent to distribute.

As his smug-faced mugshot circulated the tabloids, it eclipsed the glossy editorial photos that the brand had invested millions in. The extravagant campaign was reduced to a joke, its over-the-top glamour juxtaposed with candid snapshots of Dieter’s angry face shouting at the photographer.

Unbelievably, the brand hadn’t thrown him out then and there. He almost wished they had - he preferred the couple of nights he spent in jail to the following days spent in meetings, his team arguing with Elysium over their ability to sway this and use his reputation to their advantage. Ultimately, they maintained his status as a face of their brand as well as his 6 million dollar contract, with the stipulation that he shoot another campaign and make himself available for any event, launch or party the brand requested for the next year.

Being asked to party in exchange for six million dollars was a sweet deal - he understood that - but the reality of being a cosmetics brand’s puppet meant that he ended up at the same fucking parties week in and week out, always babysat by an appointed employee of the brand or, failing that, someone on his payroll.

Tonight was particularly torturous. The tabloids had latched onto the whispers of his crumbling marriage - rumors that were, fortunately or unfortunately, completely legitimate. Heidi was meant to be the one to tie him down, set him straight, clean him up. Their wedding photos looked like a fucking editorial, glossy photos ran with headlines predicting their domestic bliss. But a year and a half, a relapse, a DUI, and a string of affairs - all on his part - had shattered those illusions.

Last week, Dieter returned home from a 3-day bender to Heidi’s mother on the landing at the top of his stairs. She was screaming and hurling the contents of his closet at him, plus whatever else was within arms reach. Heidi, her once-bright eyes now dull with tears, cowered in a doorway behind her mother, slamming the door behind her when he called out in an attempt to reason with her. Her mom located his Oscar, hurling it towards his head with a warning to leave the house before she called the cops. He’d ducked just in time to avoid the statue concussing him, it instead crashing through the glass window of the door behind him.

The stories spread like wildfire, his team scrambling to reshape the narrative, casting Heidi as the cold, unfeeling spouse who couldn't handle his demons. They painted her as the villain, accusing her of rejecting him for his vices - after all, she knew who she married - all the while conveniently forgetting that she had stood by him through more than most people would be able to tolerate. It was an angle he wasn’t happy with; He may have been hedonistic but he wasn’t cruel. In the interest of giving her space and avoiding any additional negative attention sent her way, he moved out. He kept an apartment closer to town, and staying there made it that much easier to avoid any reminders of his failures.

The word on the poor, dejected husband had spread, causing every asshole he ran into tonight to look at him with the same pathetic, sympathetic expression. He resented their pity. He resented this party, this club, his obligation to be seen holding some stupid bottle of cologne in order to maintain his career. The four whiskies he'd downed had done little to numb him from it, and even the lines he'd snorted on the way over had failed to dull the edges of this evening.

You’d stumbled in about an hour ago, perching yourself in the booth across from his own. Your eyelids were heavy in a familiar way, his dirtbag instincts making him suspect you’ve popped a painkiller in addition to whatever you’ve been drinking. A group of giggly, hungry hangers-on swarmed around your table like flies, posing for pictures and parting only to let bottle service in and out.

Dieter knew you - or at least, he knew of you. The cute little starlet who always popped up next to him in the tabloids. He’d seen you in enough movies and on enough billboards to recognize your face, and he’d lurked around clubs like this often enough to have seen you before. Before you’d walked in, he’d resigned himself to an armchair as far back in the VIP section as he could find, determined to wait out the evening before bringing home whatever model ended up in his car. The whiskey he’d been drinking was only just beginning to kick in and he didn’t fight it, leaning back and willing the time to pass faster. But you… you were interesting.

Your gorgeous legs were stretched out along the booth, climbing up to the hem of your dress, a pink silky thing he imagined he could tear off of you with the smallest amount of force. Glossy lips pouted at your phone, eyebrows furrowed in a sweet little frustrated expression. When you looked up he didn’t look away - he kept his eyes trained on you as you looked around the room. You were looking for someone, obviously restless. A boyfriend? The thought twisted at his stomach uncomfortably and he willed himself to stop watching you, putting his glass to his mouth and draining it with a single swallow.

“Bravo!” a voice bellowed from his left, snapping him out of it. Clint - some hack from Elysium Fragrances and tonight’s designated narc waved enthusiastically from the booth next to him. “You gonna sit there and fuckin’ mope all night, bro?”

Fuck this guy. Like most of his brand-approved chaperones, he was content to accept the babysitting opportunity and spend the evening running up Dieter’s tab and shamelessly hitting on the girls at his table. The least he could do would be to leave him the fuck alone.

His attention returned to you when he heard a commotion from your direction. There you were, knees buckled, held at your elbow by one of the guys surrounding your booth. A couple of cell phone cameras lift and snap photos behind you as you attempt to compose yourself. He can’t take his eyes off of you as you stand back up, adjusting yourself, your little dress riding up for just a moment before you smooth it back into place.

The bottle he’d finished had begun to cloud his vision, so it took him a moment to realize you were stumbling towards him, your plush lips slightly parted as you swung a bottle of tequila at your side. Despite the haze, your smile was unmistakable as you arrived at his chair. When you held up the bottle with a subtle lift of your eyebrow, he nodded in agreement.

He wasn’t entirely sure if you climbed into his lap or if you simply floated there, an ethereal presence that captivated his senses. You were such a gorgeous little thing, soft legs draping over him effortlessly, while your electric fingertips traced delicate patterns along his arms.

“Where’ve I met you before?” You slurred, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as you settled in his lap.

You were fucked up. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. Good - he was, too. His plan had been to leave, get one of the models at his table to come home and roll over for him without much effort, but passing the evening with someone in his same state of mind would spare him from having another dull fucking conversation tonight. Plus, you were so pretty, big black pupils dilated and fixed on him beneath the lazy black fan of your eyelashes.

“You tell me,” he answered, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

Did you know who he was? He goes along with your guesses as to where you’d met before. Miami, London, the Met, whatever you said, as long as you didn’t piece together that you know him from a TV show that aired when you were still in middle school.

Music blasted through the speakers surrounding you, strobe lights flashing and highlighting flecks of glitter on your shoulders. He lifted his hand to run his finger along the thin strap of your dress as you lifted the bottle up between you and raised your eyebrows in question. He nodded, holding up his empty whiskey glass.

“Glastonbury?” You asked as you filled his glass.

“That must be it,” he agreed, knowing he hadn’t been to Glastonbury since 1995, and clinked his glass against your bottle. He watched as you took a long draw from the mouth and could see the grimace you were holding back as you squinted, your throat bobbing as you swallowed. He followed your lead, emptying his glass in three big gulps. Your eyes flitted over momentarily to the group he came with, crowded around the booth to his left, then back to him.

“You alone?” You asked him, glossy lips smirking.

“Just like you.”

You let out a knowing chuckle and leaned in closer to him, tequila and lime and smoke on your breath as it mingled with his own. The way you dragged your lower lip through your teeth had his cock twitching, the combination of the chemicals in his system and you purring in his lap like a kitten destroying any shred of inhibition he had left.

There’s an acknowledgment between people like you and Dieter. It’s one of those things that doesn’t lend itself to description, but he knew it when he saw it - in the mirror, in friends and acquaintances and enemies, in blown-up photographs on the covers of tabloids, suicides and DUIs announced in newsstands. Raw nerves covered in glitter, celebrity or civilian, death drives winning over life drives every time. He saw it in your dilated pupils and the way your thighs were rubbing together, the silk of your dress doing nothing to hide it. You’re like him, too, and most importantly, you know better than to ask why.

His hand cupped your face before he realized he’d done it and he closed the space between you, your lips soft against his the next sensation he was aware of. You tasted good, and he wanted more right away, deepening the kiss and digging his fingers into your thigh forcefully. He ran his tongue along the seam of your mouth, his own lips going numb as he licked into yours. He pulled you up to straddle him and you moved easily, hips lowering onto him immediately and settling, the lace of your panties brushing up against the thin fabric of his pants. His mouth trailed to your ear, worrying your earlobe between his teeth and guiding your hips to roll against his crotch again and again.

“You don’t give a fuck, do you?” He said, his voice low and hoarse in your ear. He knew you had the attention of his group and your own, not to mention anyone else who happened to look over, but it didn’t seem to matter to you. He knew you’d been in trouble lately - the same limelight, coming-of-age growing pains he’d been through himself several years ago - and his own instincts threatened to kick in and shield you from the excess attention.

You laughed with a shake of your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder and, without looking away from him, lifted his hand from your thigh to your lips, dragging your tongue across the length of his index finger and popping it into your mouth.

Oh, you were fun. You were already making him hard, and he knew you could feel it as you grinded into him again and again, letting his finger drop from your mouth when he pressed his lips back to yours. He needed to be careful - the linen lounge pants he’d thrown on to come here would betray nothing if you kept it up much longer.

It’s a noticeable absence when you hum and pull away from the kiss, the urge for more of you rolling over him and causing his fingers to dig into your thighs possessively.

“Do you have anything… funner?” You asked, big, blown out eyes pleading as you lifted the tequila bottle up again. Aha. It just so happened he did - a baggie of coke he’d brought along just in case sat in his pocket, along with two tabs of acid. It didn’t seem like that kind of night, though, at least not yet. He’d stick with the coke.

“I might have something,” he replied, a genuine smirk spreading across his face for the first time that evening. He sat up straight, smacking your ass and biting your jawline at the same time, the yelp it pulled from you quickly transforming into a wild giggle and sending a rush of blood to his cock as he peppered kisses and bites down your neck to your collarbone.

Quickly, he helped you to your feet and guided you through the crowded room, following you across the floor, his index finger linked with your pinky, prying eyes and pointing fingers meaningless to the both of you. You may have been stumbling, but you were confident. Or at least not at all concerned. A camera phone at the bar flashed and Dieter instinctively ducked his head, moving a hand to your hip to rush you forward and out of sight.

Tucking into a hallway at the back of the club, he kicked a door open and hurried you inside a small, dark room. It was clearly an employee restroom, high piles of backstocked paper towels and toilet paper toppling over when he pushed you up against the wall harshly, his hands cupping your face, the cool metal of his rings pressed against your cheek.

He pulled a pink baggie out of his shirt pocket, opened it and tapped a bump of white powder out onto the skin between his thumb and index finger. He held it up to your nose and, without any question about what it was, where he got it or if he’d already tried it, you’d inhaled, one hand holding his steady while the other held your nostril closed.

Fucking finally. Your head lit up immediately with euphoria and relief as the amphetamines rushed through your system and you melted against Dieter as he lifted you to perch you on a stack of cardboard boxes.

You let him move you like a rag doll, smiling as he propped you back and tapped out two more bumps onto your chest and snorted them, running your fingers through his messy curls as he dragged his tongue along your cleavage, licking up what was left.

His lips found yours again, and the pungent taste of the powder on his tongue mingling with his taste drew you in closer. Looping your arm around his neck, your free hand clutched his bicep. The acrid taste turned pleasantly tingly on your tongue, a numbness spreading as it explored his mouth.

“Here, baby,” he urged, breaking the kiss breathlessly, and you hummed in response as he tapped out another bump on the back of his hand. You inhaled it again, then he used his finger to gather the remnants of the powder. Cupping your cheek firmly, your jaw relaxed under his touch as he rubbed the excess powder into your gums. You reacted instantly, closing your eyes and drawing his finger deeper into your mouth, succumbing to the rush of sensation.

He groaned in approval, your lips already open when he kissed you again, drawing him in for more, thighs parting to wrap your legs around him. The flimsy strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, the fabric across your chest following shortly after.

Blissfully content with the relief of the chemicals rushing into your bloodstream for the first time today, you went numb, rolling your head back and watching patterns dance behind your eyelids. You allowed Dieter to touch and move you at his will, his hands skillfully brushing the other strap of your dress off your shoulder, exposing your chest completely. A throaty moan escaped him at the sight, the gentle sway of your breasts moving with the rhythm of the rough push of his hips into yours. He drew you closer, his lips finding purchase on your skin. Roughly latching onto you, he drew your breast into his mouth, his tongue drawing circles around the peak of your nipple before switching to the other side of your chest.

Sparks shot down your spine and your mind went blank for a second, lost in the feeling of him against you, the synapses in your brain firing and lighting up. You snapped back into the moment when you felt him grasp your hand with his own, his fingers intertwined with yours. He guided you down to press your hand into his crotch, grinding the firm length of himself into your hold again and again.

A soft moan escaped your lips, surrendering to the warmth and pressure of his body against yours. You tightened your grip around his neck, allowing yourself to fully yield to his control, your body pliant and responsive to his every move.

You’d fuck him, you figured, as you moved against him. He was good looking - now that you were feeling a little less edgy, you could appreciate it. Corinne would kill you if word got out, but he seemed like someone who knew a thing or two about discretion. He stiffened even more as he firmly thrusted into the cradle of your hand and you cupped your fingers around his length, the soft fabric of his pants allowing you to feel him completely. You walked your fingers up to his waistband, nails dipping under the fabric and pulling at it slightly. You’d go home with him. Whatever. You’d bring Natalie with you and you could leave by morning. He probably wouldn’t even notice a missing gram or two.

You followed the thought as he trailed kisses up your chest and neck, finally settling at your ear. His hand rose up your thigh, thick fingers dragging along the lace fabric at your center. The bundle of nerves there erupted at his touch and your thighs instinctively squeezed around him.

“Let me taste you, baby, please,” He growled just above a whisper into your ear. You arched your back into his arms, moaning and nodding in agreement, the cool porcelain of the sink underneath you causing your skin to goosebump as your dress rode up further. You opened your eyes, peeking at the chestnut brown curls, the color blending into the dark room surrounding you. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you fought to keep them open, wanting to stay present with him. But the warmth of his breath against your skin and the gentle touch of his fingers on your cheeks were lulling you somewhere else. You felt like you were floating, your vision blurred at the edges and you fluttered your eyes shut again, feeling his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and stall there for a moment.

Your fading in and out like that threatened to spook him away. You couldn’t be too fucked up. He lightly tapped your cheeks a couple of times, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Stay with me, baby," he whispered urgently. "Gotta hear you say it."

“Mmmm,” Dazed, faraway eyes looked up at him, your blown-out pupils mirroring his own. You nodded again, dragging your teeth along your bottom lip. Your pulse raced between your legs, and you felt your hips moving towards him, trying to ride something that wasn’t there yet. “Do it, Dieter, please.”

There we go. He smirked, lifting you from the stack of boxes to push you up against the wall and sinking to his knees. He bunched up the fabric of your dress at your hips, roughly pulling your panties down your legs, the black fabric hanging loosely at one ankle as he lifted your leg to hang over his shoulder.

You shrieked when he slid his tongue through your folds, your knee buckling when he repeated the motion, his strong hands moving up to your hips to support you. His tongue pushed wide against you, him tasting and exploring you as his fingers dug into your hips with bruising force.

He felt fucking amazing. You typically hated when men touched you, especially when you were high, but he felt incredible. You’d give him anything. Despite your rapidly dulling senses, the feeling of his tongue working your clit back and forth was at the front of your mind. He pushed his tongue wide against you again and again, fucking two thick fingers up into you without warning.

You gasped, your mouth opening wide as you root your fingers into his hair to ground yourself. He wanted to wreck you completely, to smear the dark makeup around your eyes and watch that glossy mouth of yours stretch around his cock. His lips locked around your clit, and as the blood rushed to the bundle of nerves there you threw your head back, chest heaving, loud, wretched moans spilling from your throat.

With your senses dulled, he knew it’d take a little more to send you over the edge. A third finger pushed into you with a stretch, starting slow and working up to get in and out of your tight, soaked cunt. You moved your hips to match his rhythm, your pace hiccuping as he began working you faster and faster, working your clit between his teeth with a pinch.

Your moans were frantic, hitching higher and higher as he confidently worked you towards an orgasm, your surroundings blurring and swirling around you.

THUD, THUD, THUD. Just as you neared your release, a loud pounding at the door shattered the moment.

He groaned in frustration, pausing briefly before attempting to resume. You struggled to regain your focus, your chest heaving with heavy breaths, nerves coiled tightly at your core.

The knock was followed by a muffled argument and the clanking of keys from the other side of the door. Reluctantly, Dieter's head emerged from between your thighs.

“Fucking assholes,” Dieter grumbled in frustration as he stood up, moving the straps of your dress back up your shoulders and quickly adjusting himself. You steadied yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you pulled your panties back up, frustration pounding angrily between your legs.

“Find me, alright?” He breathed, smoothing out your dress, his hand lingering on your ass and eyes slowly moving up your body. “I’ll take you home.”

You nodded as the door was thrown open, the bright, white light of a flashlight shining into the small room. You stood up straight, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror and sneakily grabbing the small, plastic baggie Dieter left on the counter, hiding it in your fist behind your back.

“Let’s go. Knock this shit off,” a voice bellowed from behind the light, which darted back and forth between you and Dieter. “We’re not doing this in my fucking club, get the fuck out, let’s go!”

“What the fuck is this?” Dieter asks, moving to stand in front of you and block you from the bright light.

“I’m sorry, man, I tried to stop him,” Another voice followed from outside the room. You squinted and peeked over Dieter’s shoulder, annoyance showing on your face. A large bald man in a suit held the flashlight and to his right was the small, douchey-looking guy you recognized from Dieter’s booth. Natalie’s head popped up behind the both of them, looking relieved to have found you.

“You’re not doing drugs on my floor and fucking little girls in my bathroom. That’s it, Bravo. Get the fuck out of here, let’s go,” the angry man repeated. Dieter raised his hands and murmured an apology to you as he shuffled out, one hand poised defensively in front of his face. He pushed out of the room past Natalie, her brows furrowed at him in confusion as he passed. His counterpart flocked to his side, immediately rushing into what sounded like a flurry of explanations and reassurances. Natalie slid into the room smoothly, wrapping an arm around you to usher you out. You stumbled at her side, annoyed and disoriented.

“I’m TWENTY-TWO, ASSHOLE!” You screamed at the man with the flashlight, attempting to shove him with your balled-up fists. He raised his eyebrows, bald head wrinkling and frown deepening. Natalie pulled you away from him quickly and you could hear her apologize behind you. “Don’t tell’um sorry, Nat, ’m not fucking sorry, I was in the fucking bathroom!” you slurred, your voice disjointedly raising and lowering in pitch.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go,” Natalie urged you.

“Yeah, ’s get the fuck outta here,” you agreed, stumbling as she shepherded you out. She handed you your purse and you quickly shoved your hand inside, dropping the half-empty baggie into the side pocket. One or two flashing lights from the crowd gathered at the bar stole your attention for a moment, but it quickly returned to the big, bald, interrupting gorilla with the flashlight. “This place SUCKS!” you screamed as you began to turn back towards him, leashed by Natalie’s grip around your arm.

“Let’s go,” she repeated firmly. You followed her through the crowded bar, stomping across the floor and ignoring the unending stream of heads turning towards you. The two of you shoved out the heavy metal doors of the club, clicking and flashbulbs immediately erupting around you as the cool evening air breezed across your skin. Your name was shouted from your left and right as Natalie dug in her bag for the valet ticket.

“Having fun tonight?” A photographer asked. You rolled your eyes. “Alright, over here, honey,” the same voice continued. With a resigned sigh, you turned to offer a practiced pose, your mind ticking through your media training despite how fucking annoyed you were. Stumbling a couple of times as you attempted to maintain your balance, you moved through a lazy pose or two. You knew the routine - let them get their shot and maybe they'll back off.

“Partying tonight?” Another voice interjected. Moron.

Natalie finally located the ticket and the valet handed the keys over immediately, your car already parked and waiting curbside. Impulsively, you decided you’d drive, intercepting the keys before Natalie could take them and nearly smacking them out of the attendant’s hand before stumbling towards the vehicle.

“She’s not getting in the driver’s seat. No way,” reasons the voice of a man with a video camera to your left. “There’s no way!”

Another blinding eruption of flashing lights emerged around you. You stared down at your feet as you stumbled forward, trying to see where you were walking through the relentless assault of flashbulbs. Natalie called out your name from behind you. You struggled a couple of times with the handle before throwing the car door open heavily.

“Hey, you can’t drive, honey,” Another voice called out. You rolled your eyes.

You climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, exhaling loudly as the noise of the chaos surrounding you finally muffled. Flashing lights continued, your windshield now completely blocked by cameras. The volume raised again for a moment, a cacophony of voices and camera clicks, as Natalie scrambled into the passenger seat beside you.

“Are these people serious,” you asked, angling your head in towards Natalie and shielding your eyes from the barrage of flashbulbs pointed at you, frustration mounting with each flash. “How’m I supposta drive when they’re fucking blocking me?”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t.” Natalie said, concern in her voice. “Let me, okay?”

You shook your head adamantly. “’M not going back out there.”

“So climb over,” She suggested.

“Not in this!”

Natalie let out an exasperated sigh, her fingers tapping anxiously on her thighs.

“Hey, since when do you know Dieter Bravo?” She asks, momentarily changing the subject.

“Who? Oh,” you replied, the question registering with you once you answered. The reminder of him sent your attention between your legs and you shifted slightly in your seat. “I dunno. I know’hm from an awards thing.” You offered. It was an unconvincing lie, but Natalie didn’t fight you on it.

“He’s so random,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you hooked up with him. I think my older sister had a poster of him in high school. Right next to River Phoenix.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, everything about this evening now pissing you off. The incessant clicking of the paparazzi's cameras only added fuel to the fire, and you narrowed your eyes in irritation, slamming your hand down on the horn for a solid ten seconds in a futile attempt to disperse them.

“MOVE!” you yelled, only inciting more flashing lights.

“Let me drive, babe,” Natalie tried again.

“Oh, my god, fuck this,” you snapped, frustration finally boiling over. With your hand still shielding your eyes, you shifted the car into drive. “You're my eyes now.”

“What?! No!” She replied, her voice rising in panic.

“Be my eyes. I’m going.” You repeated. Very slowly, you eased your foot off the brake, the car beginning to inch forward. Voices clamored outside the vehicle.

“Oh my god, um, okay. Go slow. Turn left. Slow!” Natalie began to guide you. The crowd cautiously parted around the car, photographers scrambling to avoid being flattened while still unwilling to sacrifice this shot. “Oh my god, this is so stupid. Slow, slow, slow.”

“They’re fuckin’ stupid! What am I supposed to do?”

“No, yeah, okay, just slow, keep going left.” Natalie's voice trembled slightly as she continued to navigate. The relentless barrage of flashing lights illuminated the interior of the car, casting everything in stark, blinding brightness. “Okay, cut it! Cut it and keep going straight.”

You cut the wheel to the right and straighten it out, cautiously peeking through the gaps in your fingers to confirm you'd cleared the throng of photographers.

“Haha!” you exclaimed, your laughter echoing through the tense air as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor once the street ahead is clear. With a screech of tires, you peel off into the night, Natalie's nervous chuckles mingling with your own laughter. “Bye, assholes!”

You rocketed down Highland with reckless abandon. A couple of familiar vehicles creeped up behind you - regular photographers who paid their bills by stalking you. The driver to the left’s hand hung out the window, a digital camera pointed squarely at you. The light was yellow at the intersection in front of you and you smirked, not letting up on the gas and rolling your window down to flip off the camera as you raced through the intersection just as the light turned red.

“Slow down!” Natalie yelled, panicked, her hand clutching the door handle in a white-knuckled grip. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?! These guys are the ones with the problem,” you fired back, your tone frustrated. “I can’t do anything without getting fucking cornered!” Your car veered dangerously across the yellow lines and Natalie yelped. You overcorrected, the vehicle lurching back into its lane just in time to avoid a collision with an oncoming car, its horn blaring in warning. Natalie’s body stiffened further in her seat as you took a wide right turn onto Sunset. You turn on the radio, a Rihanna song picking up midway through.

“Did he give you something?” she shouted, her tone urgent. You furrowed your brow, shooting her a confused look. “Dieter,” she clarified.

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, mood shifting as you suddenly remembered the baggie tucked in your purse. “Look what I got us!” You reached for your bag on the passenger floorboard, swerving again. Natalie lunged across the seat, her hands fumbling for the wheel to correct your course, while a chorus of horns blared from the vehicles behind you. Finally retrieving your purse, you fished out the baggie from the side pocket and held it up between your fingers for Natalie to inspect. She grabbed it from you quickly, examining it in her lap.

“What is it?” She asked. You shrugged.

“Coke, I think. Shit, hold on,” you floored the gas to race through another newly red light.

“Stop!” Natalie shrieked. “This is so fucking stupid, dude, let me drive!”

“Jesus, Nat, fine,” you groan, slamming on the brakes. You both jolted forward as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. “You wanna drive so bad, fine.”

You unlocked the car doors, opening yours slightly and reaching down to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, disbelief etched across her features as she surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding around you. You nodded in affirmation, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. “You’re such a bitch.”

With a surge of stubborn adrenaline, you stormed out onto Sunset Boulevard, Natalie following suit. The gray Honda belonging to one of the persistent photographers tailed you, coming to a halt beside you as the driver scrambled out, camera at the ready.

“LEAVE ME ALONE” you shouted. “I gave you your shot at the club, I’ve been nice to you guys, what more do you want?!”

You considered what it would take to get him to go away. Words weren’t working. Should you kick his car? Throw something? You began to stumble towards him, interrupted by Natalie yelling your name again. You turned around to see Natalie standing in the street, gaze fixed on the intersection ahead. Your car - which you apparently failed to put into park - was rolling into the intersection on its own.

With a frantic surge of panic, you and Natalie sprinted after the runaway vehicle, the strobe of camera flashes behind you incessant. Arms flailing, you both desperately signaled to other drivers to stop, your heels clattering against the pavement as you raced towards the car.

As the car veered left, you were powerless to stop it from crashing into a parked BMW at the corner. Rushing to catch up, you flung yourself into the open driver's door, slamming on the brakes and throwing the gear into reverse. You leaned across the cab to fling the passenger door wide open.

“Come on!” You shouted at Natalie as she climbed back into the car. With a tense exhale, you navigated the car backward, turning wide in the intersection before screeching forward.

Your mind was completely clear with pure adrenaline. You were only a few blocks away from the hotel now, the castle-shaped outline shrouded in trees just ahead on your right. You floored it, a tense silence hanging in the car, both you and Natalie’s eyes locked forward on the road in front of you.

Only slowing down to make a right turn into the hotel driveway, you didn’t bother waiting for the valet. Tossing your keys onto the driver’s seat, you left the door ajar as you stormed through the garage toward your room, ready to put this evening behind you.

#blind item #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x reader #putting this out into the world and definitely also shitting bricks

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she-is-ovarit · 9 months

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This is for all the younger gen Z women, particularly those of you within the ages of 17 to roughly 23. This is written from an American perspective, things might be a little different depending on where you're from.

I graduated high school with the unconscious assumption that certain systems will take care of me. The medical system would educate me on proper nutrition and health issues was probably my largest underlying assumption, but really I just had trust in institutions generally.

This isn't true. You are responsible for learning. As an example, I have been vegetarian since age 14. Nobody talked to me about proper nutrition, they just told me I needed to eat more protein.

I lived a decade of my life having shortness of breath, sleeping issues, clumsiness, cold hands and feet, having brain fog, extreme fatigue, heightened anxiety, etc. My period was extremely light and brown, it'd last for about 2 or so days. I'd go and talk about these problems, and telling doctors that I was vegetarian was one of the first things that came out of my mouth just with any visit because I knew at least that piece was important to communicate.

There was really no action taken over the span of about 10 years. I was told the period thing was normal, that changes for women. A sleep specialist let me know that feeling exhausted was also normal. The brain fog was probably due to anxiety. Here, try allergy medication (tbh that did help for other reasons). Then one day I just asked them to check my vitamin and mineral levels. Prior to this I didn't think you can make requests to doctors, I thought you showed up and they performed tests on what they recommended. With some reluctance from my primary care physician and some compromise because she said my insurance wouldn't cover testing things like B12 levels (I later found out from a nurse that, they would, she would have just needed to fill out extra paperwork), she did some tests.

I found out both my iron and D3 levels were low. What else could be?

I later learned pretty much all the vitamins common to be low for vegetarians were low. D3, magnesium, vitamin Bs, iron, and healthy fats. Bought some liquid vitamins (because the body only absorbs 10% of the pill supplements), began eating an avocado a day, my period became normal for the first time in nine years, and I am able to function.

Another example of how human systems won't educate you: I don't have feeling in some of my toes due to wearing incorrect sized footwear for years resulting in permanent nerve damage. I'm size 11.5 in women's, and I was relying on someone to tell me how proper footwear worked, because surely the guy in the minimum wage position working the footwear section would know.

Don't trust human systems to guide you through how certain things work. Seek specific specialists and experts when you can, and inform yourself on your own. Don't blindly trust search engines like Google, it's not like how it used to be when I was growing up and many millennial adults will tell you to "just google things" because we're used to finding actual substantive answers when we do. However, now, usually whoever pays is who makes the first page or two of search engines, it has nothing to do with what information is "most correct". Don't be afraid to request certain tests be done by doctors or certain referrals made to different specialists.

Edit: And also, I've found general practitioners are terrible when you walk in and tell them about several different symptoms at one time. They're more used to treating one symptom at a time, and they treat the symptom not the root cause. If you go in with a runny nose, general practitioners are going to throw medications at you to try and treat the runny nose, not look deeper into what's causing the runny nose. It's equivalent to if you're in a boat and it's sinking, they're bailing out water without actually fixing the hole or trying to figure out where it is, with the exception of emergency situations and even then it depends.

#tangent #health #nutrition #gen z #medical system #healthcare #women's health

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ageofevermore · 1 year

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IT MAKES YOU MINE

SUMMARY — in the days leading up to your twentieth birthday, you seek the one thing you’ve never been able to find; your soulmates

WARNINGS — anxiety attack, omegaverse, soulmates, natasha being a worrywart

heart masterlist, tomorrow at one

In all the ways to spend the days leading up to your birthday, you had never that you’d sulk your way into a convention center for lost Omegas. Truthfully, you had always thought that you;d have no problem connecting with your pack, and your mates, but in nineteen years, you had never even seen an Alpha bear a soulmark similar to yours; and you have five. In nineteen years, that endless fire of hope that burned in your belly dwindled farther and farther down until it became a dull spark, the butt of a sparkler on the fourth of July– hopelessness.

The convention center is just about as busy as you would’ve expected it to be, but it doesn’t comfort you any to know your worries were right. It was the first convention of the summer season, a period of months where being without a meaningful relationship weighs on hearts the most. For you, summertime and Christmas hurt the worst. For you, living through these weeks and months with nothing but isolation breaks your heart into pieces that can't be mended.

Growing up, you were never an overly excitable or happy kid. You tried your best in your academics, in your relationships and extracurriculars, you were sweet, and you were easy, but you were riddled with paralyzing anxiety that always pulled you out of the fun you were trying to drown yourself in, and as you got older, depression kept you fully on the shore. Most doctors have assured you that being united with your pack will ease your symptoms; headaches, nausea, spells of dizziness, and paralyzing dark days that bind you to the center of your empty bed. For as hard as your symptoms prove to be, you’ve never had any luck like your mother. Your mother passed away two years ago in the same way your father had been taken. If you had one thing, it wasn’t a clean track record.

Being in the convention center was enough to set you on edge. The soulmarks that decorated your soft body burned the longer you remained uneasy, just like they did every time, and your breath began to pick up in the shallows of your scratchy throat. You’d been in the convention center for all of thirty minutes, already desperate for an exit despite a lack of booths. Alphas hadn’t even began to scour for their lost omegas and already you needed an out.

A defeated sound escaped your chest as your arms brushed against other excitable Omegas. You knew this would become just another bad idea, especially when you decided to come alone, after one-to-many anxiety attacks that became like rabbit holes of bad days, you had promised your mother that you would stop venturing out of your safe spaces alone; that had only lasted a few weeks after her death before it felt suffocating to always bother your less than affectionate and very intentionally scattered siblings.

You were in a disoriented panic, so focused on the blinking red exit sign ahead of you that you hardly realized that you had set her course straight for a female Alpha. It wasn't intentional, really it wasn’t, you just needed to escape, and the women had been right in your way. But, you hadn't known that until you went barreling into her chest. The Alpha growled deeply in her chest, having not expected to be plowed into, but her defenses fell at the submissive whimper that escaped you.

You couldn’t look up from your trembling hands, stuttering over an apology as you bounced between both feet nervously, "S-Sorry Alpha. I wasn't, I wasn't looking. S-Sorry."

The woman, having not intended on staying at the convention long anyway, could easily scent the presence of an anxiety attack presenting within your chest. An anxiety attack that had been presenting long before you had stumbled into her space.

"Omega." The woman's voice was steady, and dominating. It wasn't at all her Alpha voice; that would've had you on your knees, but rather a dominating tone that she tucked away to work quite a few kinky minded men and women into submission. It startled your attention away from your fingers successfully, and your soft brown eyes went wide seeing just who you had stumbled into. Not only had you disrupted an Alpha's personal space, but Natasha Romanoff's. That only sent another harsh wave of anxiety rippling through your tight belly.

"I'm sorry! I-I'm sorry, Ms. Romanoff. I didn't, I'm so sorry!" If Natasha weren't so worried about your increasing heart rate, she would've smiled fondly at how skittish you were with a fluttering heartbeat that sounds like butterfly wings in a breeze. She'd hardly had any good experiences at conventions like these, especially once she's been spotted, but she felt responsible to overlook and make sure the presenting Alpha's had the right intentions with these otherwise vulnerable, and most times bratty, Omegas.

Natasha looks over the nametag pinned to your soft colored top and she prused her lips in admiration, Y/N. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. "It's alright, Omega. Come on, let's get you somewhere quieter." Natasha takes a hold of your trembling right hand, cursing lowly at how cold you must be if your icicle fingertips were any indication. She's not sure if it's from your anxiety or just general coldness either.

"N-No it's really okay. I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." You anxiously responded, trying to pull away from Natasha but failing with how weak you had become beneath the clutches of an attack. You hadn't had one in months, and it was becoming apparent as you were rusty in all of your self-regulated coping mechanisms.

"Omega," Natasha flickers her eyes down to the nametag again, "Y/N, I wasn't asking."

You whimpered, dropping your head in shame and submission as you allowed Natasha to lead you into a small conference room isolated from the rest of the madness. It was only when the door was fully shut that you could remember how you had to breathe to calm your racing heart; something you often forget when you become like this.

"Hey, none of that." Natasha fret, pulling your cold and clammy hands away from your forearms when you began to scratch at them anxiously. God, she didn't know why she felt so drawn you, but every part of her body was screaming at her to help by doing more than just standing idly by, but she didn't know you, and she didn't know what you responded well to. "Good girl." Natasha praised when you let her grab your hands, not even trying to pull away this time.

"It's loud in there, huh?" Natasha cooed. She's experienced a handful of panic attacks herself, all due to her time as an assassin and an avenger. She didn’t want to imagine what had triggered this in you. When the Omega gave her a soft nod, eyes flickering around the room nervously, Natasha let go of one of her hands; that were shaking significantly less, and touched her chin softly, leading her gaze back to her emerald eyes. “You’re safe in here, Omega. But I need you to focus on me, okay? Y/N, hey-” Natasha doesn’t get the chance to continue. She would’ve asked the trembling girl to start counting to five, but before she could, a sweet albeit timid and shaky voice was ringing in her ears.

“P-you.” She pleaded shyly, cheeks becoming a hot red at the prospect of sharing her name with the Alpha. you was never the best with figures of authority, especially in such a vulnerable state. It’s one of the reasons her mother homeschooled her for so long.

“Hey, okay sweetheart.” Natasha smiles softly, not wanting to startle the Omega that’s slowly beginning to find her footing again. Natasha doesn’t even think she’s noticed that she’s stopped shifting her weight, and that she’s gripping onto Natasha’s hand like she’s dependent on it. God, her heart is going to ache when she has to let this little Omega go.

Natasha still hadn’t found her Omega. Her ache for that intimate connection was intensifying as the years passed, and it was often a conversation at pack meetings. By all means, Tony Stark could have found their Omega seven times over in a matter of hours, but they didn’t want it that way. They wanted to feel the magic of meeting by accident, by authentically falling in love and discovering one another. But God did Natasha crave one of these sweet creatures to call her own through every dawn and dusk.

“How can I help you, You?” Natasha asked, backing the two of them up so that she was sitting down in the office chair, looking up at You. Her jawline was soft, but her bitten lip and clenched teeth made it appear harsher than it was. That tension started to fall from her face when she looked down at Natasha, feeling like she had some of the power in this position. Natasha had hoped moving to sit would give You that security, and her lips twitched watching the brunette girl come apart from her worries.

“Y-You’ve already helped me.” The Omega frowned, not understanding what more Natasha was willing to do for her. This was more than anyone had done for her in months. You hated being alone, but it was easier to leave when she didn’t have anything to hold onto.

“You’re still shaking, honey.” Natasha frowned, reaching for the younger Omega and leading her forward. “I’m going to pull you into my lap, is that okay?” Natasha asked, tracing every feature on You’s face to indicate she wasn’t okay with that kind of contact. She understood completely if the Omega protested. They were strangers. Even if biologically they were Alpha and Omega, nothing would permit for You to be stripped of her right to choose what she was comfortable with. “I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.” Natasha smiled fondly when You nodded. She hadn’t even had to think about her response, just nodding softly and shyly. Natasha was beginning to think the brunette girl in her arms didn’t have a mean bone in her body.

“Please.” You’s cheeks burned, her chin dropping farther into her chest as she recoiled into herself. Natasha felt her belly spark at the sight, biting back a giggle at the submissive of the Omega. She would’ve pressed for more than from the small girl, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t get more than a whiny ‘please’ in response.

Natasha moved to grab at your waist, letting go of your hands fully for the first time in twenty minutes. You felt like you were floating again, like a butterfly in the breeze, without her grounding touch, but breathed in sharply when Natasha’s fingers brushed against the skin of your hip accidentally. In the Alpha’s innocent attempt to pull you into her embrace, her bracelet had gotten caught on a loose thread of your shirt, revealing a small pink soulmark on your hip.

Natasha’s eyes were glued to the pink mark, her own heart rate increasing in her chest. Right where the skin on her hip was scarred over from a soviet slug, right in the place where all of her mates had her soulmark, you had the same one. A pair of pink ballet slippers etched in first position.

At the hitch of Natasha’s breath and her following silence, you jerked backward, away from the Alpha, away from her touch, away from her comfort. Your thoughts were once again reeling at the prospect of what could’ve happened to change the atmosphere between the both of you so drastically, and the calm Natasha had helped you work towards had been dismantled easily, panic settling alight in your belly again.

“I’m sorry! I-Im sorry, Ms. Romanoff. I’m sorry, A-Alpha!” You sobbed, backing yourself into a corner when the distant glaze in Natasha’s green eyes softened once more and her breathing evened out as she pulled herself together. There wasn’t any time at all for Natasha to react, to ease your spiraling panic and start the settling process again, because by time she got her emotions into check, and could fully process how badly you were blubbering, the world became dark. The walls felt like they were brushing against you, the floor felt like it was opening beneath your feet, farther and farther away from your head as it chased it, until eventually your body crumbled and your consciousness went with it.

The convention center clinic smelt like expired antibacterial, and the scent was beginning to give Natasha a headache, but she hadn’t been too focused on it. After coming to her senses, and admittedly, acting on her Alpha impulse which she hadn’t wanted to do at all, she had called for the med squad to assess you in the lower level clinic. Natasha would’ve felt more content taking you back to the tower, but she knew that was a major overstep. She hadn’t had the chance to tell you about the soulmark, hadn’t had the chance to ask if you had any more, and she was almost positive that you hadn’t made the connection from ballet slippers to Black Widow.

Natasha had learned quite a bit from the medical staff as they rushed around the small infirmary. Their frantic rushing wasn’t in concern for your condition, they were just frazzled by the presence of an Avenger, and if she weren’t so in her head with worry, Natasha would’ve laughed. The staff had managed to pull up your medical records, leaving Natasha’s heart heavy in her belly just thinking about all that her little Omega suffered. Anxiety, Depression, PTSD. It seemed that your list of horrors was ongoing and unforgiving.

Natasha was on her feet at the first sign of you coming to consciousness. You, her omega, whimpered sleepily and in discomfort, shifting around the stiff cot until you abruptly recognized that you weren’t at home. Natasha forced a smile onto her lips, stepping into your line of sight and watching as your heart rate spiked on the monitor you were attached to.

“Hey, Hey, you’re okay, love. You’re okay, darling.” Natasha coos. She wants nothing more than to reach out and brush strands of unruly brown hair from your eyes, but she doesn’t want to cause another surge of anxiety through your already tight and recovering belly. “No, don’t pull that out sweetheart.” She stressed, watching you fumble with the IV in your arms.

The medical team explained your condition to Natasha after the Alpha had worriedly bared her teeth at them, saying that the small Omega had fainted due to the severity of the anxiety attack, but her severe dehydration hadn’t helped her either. Already Natasha was making that a note in her head. Three cups of water a day, at least.

“I-I don’t, please.” You begged, still focusing on the IV in your arm. You hated needles, and already feeling on edge in your own body, the intrusion of something you feared wasn’t a comfort. You had managed to pull the medical tape off of your arm, leaving a stinging feeling to bubble on the sensitive skin, but that’s as far as you had come before Natasha was grabbing your hands.

“You’re dehydrated, darling. It’s going to help you feel less dizzy.” Natasha enlightened, though she was sure you knew what it was doing. If fainting was on your chart as a common symptom of your anxiety, she was sure that you had been in this situation at least a handful of times. Seeing that the distress on your face didn’t ease, Natasha’s stomach clenched in guilt. She wished she knew how she could help. As an Alpha it was her job to bring peace and comfort to her Omega, but you were a stranger to her. She’d never been in such a difficult and intimate situation with her mates until much later in their relationship; this was all painfully new.

“Water.” You were floaty with the aftermath of anxiety and sleep, and Natasha could see as much. “Water.”

“We can get you some water, sweetheart. Can I leave you for a minute?” Natasha asked sweetly, not wanting to startle you when you looked to finally be settling into her comfort again. Guilt was ripping apart Natasha’s belly and had been for the last hour. Her reaction to your soulmark was the reason they’re here after all.

“Don’t leave. Don’t leave, please! I’m sorry.” You sobbed, beautiful brown eyes brimming with tears as panic swarmed your chest again like a constricting blanket. You hated hospitals and infirmaries. You hated being alone. You hated your anxiety, and how it claws up your chest and paralyzed you. You hated needles. Natasha was the only thing even remotely settling about your situation.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Omega.” Natasha’s tone was soft, but it was firm. It left you no room to argue, but neither of you believed she had the energy to do so either way. “I won’t leave, that’s fine. I can stay right here, but I will have to call a nurse then, okay? We can’t get you some water if we don’t move.” Natasha teased lightly, hopeful that it would ease your tight chest. You smiled bashfully, dipping your head down to look at your intertwined fingers.

“Are you okay?” You whispered so softly, Natasha almost hadn’t heard you. Her heart melted looking into your soft brown eyes, wondering how you were all alone at a convention like this when all you had done was prove that you have a heart of gold.

“Of course, I’m okay.” Natasha smiles softly, squeezing your hands.

“You got so quiet.” You whisper, scared that mentioning what had happened in the conference room upstairs would upset the Alpha and she would leave you here alone. “Did I do something wrong? W-When we were in the conference room?”

Natasha felt her heart grow three sizes at your revelation. She hadn’t even realized that was what you were implying, but the thought of you being so kind and attentive made her heart swell with pride and adoration. Maybe she was crazy, but already, she could see you fitting in perfectly with herself and the pack. You were exactly the sweetness that they needed, especially with Clint’s recent coming and going.

“Hey, keep breathing for me, sweetheart. You’re doing such a good job.” Natasha praised when she noticed the spike in your breathing again, your words coming out quick and stuttered. Natasha had never had to be this soft with any of her mates, it was refreshing. She felt like she was needed, as opposed to just feeling like she belonged. They were two very different feelings she’d come to find out. “I have a lot to tell you, sweetheart. But I think that pretty head of yours should get some real rest before we talk about it. But yes, I’m okay. I pinky promise.” Natasha had a feeling that you would enjoy the lighthearted gesture at the end of her sentence, and she wasn’t disappointed by the smile that split your cherry lips wide. You raised your pinky for Natasha to link her own with, a blush settling across the apples of your cheeks.

“I’m okay to talk about it, if you want. It would help me feel better.” You said shyly. Natasha just wanted to squeeze you, but she refrained from physically melting at your reassuring words meant to comfort her. How was it that somebody in so much pain was so sweet and kind?

“That pretty little soulmark on your hip,” Natasha began, watching every miniscule part of you for your reaction. She knows the boys would’ve wanted to be with the both of you when you found out, but a part of Natasha knew that a situation like that would put you on edge for days. Already, Natasha was overwhelmed with an urge to protect you from harm, to love you entirely. “Is my mark.”

You flinched backward, away from Natasha and into yourself and the uncomfortable white cot. You pulled her hands out of the Avengers embrace, dropping them into your lap as they began to tremble again. Natasha wasn’t offended by your reaction. She’d expected worse if she was being honest. Bucky had screamed and cursed when he had found out that Tony Stark was his mate, and when Tony had found out that Steve Rogers was his head Alpha, all hell had broken loose in the tower for days. You was a gentle addition to the memory book in Natasha’s head of all these moments, a light ripple in the waves along the shorelines, a monarch butterfly drifting in a sweet spring breeze. You were refreshing.

“B-but, you have Mr. Barnes! And-And, Mr. Stark! And Mr. Barton! And Mr. Rogers! A-And I’m just me.” It was Natasha’s turn to flinch. In all of the responses she’d come up with in her head. Of all the responses that she’s heard and been told of, never once had she thought you would feel out of place because of her social status. Never once did she think her sweet little Omega would put herself down all because of wealth and class. All because of the initiative.

“Y/N.” Natasha couldn’t help how rough her voice became while addressing you, but she wouldn’t allow your insecurities to fester any deeper than they already had. Your brow quivered at her tone, “You are our equal. This,” Natasha lifted her shift, revealed the outline of her mark to you. It was a beautiful thing really. How on your own body, your mark is just a simple sketch, but on your mates it’s so much more. It’s a soft color that represents them, most are usually black, but Natasha’s, hers is a beautiful soft pink. She wishes she could bear that color on her own skin. “Is my mark. It makes you mine. It makes me yours.”

“C-Can I see my mark? Please.”

Your soulmark is a simple, sweet, heart. It’s just to the left of where Natasha’s heart actually sits, and only half colored in with a soft brown ombre. Brown had never made sense to Natasha or her mates, but seeing you, feeling your radiant and elegant energy, falling in deep with your soft and gentle mannerisms, brown was the perfect color to describe you, though not to take away from how beautifully soft your hazel brown eyes are. But, now understanding why the heart etched on her body was half empty broke her heart. You were a lost little girl. You had always been a lost little girl. You had always felt half empty. Natasha hoped that being united, being together, would change that quickly. Natasha hoped that sometime soon you would come home to her and them.

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