#the suffering ive been enduring for the past day....

[noctxj]

hanahaki disease “… in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies…”

part i / part ii / part iii / part iv

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“have you considered trying to make your feelings known?”

all things considered, the bed agent was sitting upon was more comfortable than what the barracks’ had.

but not as cozy as kyles’ chest—

“i can’t,”

the doctor frowns, pausing his tapping on the tablet, his eyes looking up to search agents face; not staring at him, rather just across from them.

a blank canvas—in pain—but nonetheless a perfect mask of apathy—

“why not?”

“i just can’t, doctor.”

agent sighs, turning their sober gaze to the doctor. simply put, agent would not have been able to take their rejection— their disgust, their hatred, their bellows to leave and never come back, once they realised an outsider who did not even belong within the same scope as the taskforce would develop such frivolous feelings such as love. agent would never be able to witness them renouncing the contract laswell carefully pieced together, watch their backs turn on agent for the last time, visibly see the trust delicately built over the past several months to crumble away into nothing, as if it never existed, as if they never existed, as if they never touched agents life in a way no other had been able to.

the doctors eyes remained steadfast on agents, a silent urge to continue.

“… i know that… that i wouldn’t be able to bear their… rejection… but this, this procedure?”

diverting their gaze to their lap, swallowing back the familiar metallic taste on their tongue.

“this... this i know i can endure” 

i’ve been through worse—

the silent words allowing agent to meet the doctors eyes again.

you’ll see eventually doctor, all my scars: permanent reminders. reminders born from miscalculations, wrong decisions, torture—

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

the same scars the taskforce were mistakenly exposed to. an undercover mission with agent used as bait for their target within a gala. a mission that wondrously ended up with the back of agents’ strapless dress ripped all the way down to their tailbone— stupid man with his stupidly gaudy rings— a furious agent using one hand to clasp the front of their dress lest they flash the idiotic target, and a handgun in the other, pointed at said idiot dazedly sprawled on the floor with a bloody (broken) nose.

agents’ back to the door as the taskforce spilled through, following agents’ signal for backup, only for agent to hear them pause by the doorway, their breaths collectively inhaled at the same time— 

“who did this to you?”

simon’s gravelly voice asked— no, demanded. agent turned their head, handgun still pointing at the (idiot) target, confusion written on their face, brows furrowing as instead of responding, stomped over until he was looming over agent.

“ghost, now is not the time—“ the captain tried to reason as the air seemed to get tighter and tighter.

“who. did. this. to. you.” not a demand anymore, but an order. one of simon’s gloved hands sweeping over the raised discoloured scars running along agents back; a pattern of scars resonant of whip marks, some of cigarette burns and others as if skin was gouged over and over and never allowed to heal properly again. 

agent who blinked, once, twice, before slowly turning their head forward again, avoiding simon, john, kyle and johnny’s faces’. handgun slowly lowered till it was facing the ground, a hollowness seemingly eating at agent from the inside out—

“it doesn’t matter. i killed all of them anyway.”

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

agent could only imagine the bleeding cracks that were appearing on their carefully placed mask, the madness that had been chasing them their entire life finally being able to swallow them whole. another soulless killer… assassin… spy… murderer, feeding off of rotting corpses just to survive another day, another assignment. agent was able to taste happiness and love for the first time, an addiction they never could have prepared themselves for; never could have foreseen it leading to a solution providing more pain— more pain to just to remain in all of their lives for just a little longer.

“and what if you’re wrong?”

… what if? my entire life has been nothing but timing and precision; the notion of “what if” is equal to failure and death—

“what if they return your feelings?”

agent could feel a plume of flowers unfurling at the base of their throat.

“… i wouldn’t deserve them.”

could feel them slowly fluttering their way up their throat.

“doctor, i’m by no means a good person; have never pretended to be. i’m not someone worthy let alone deserving of love.”

but i’ll rip myself apart over and over just to be around you all for just a little more time—

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“now, if you could count to ten out loud for me please”

“one…”

everything will be okay— 

“two...”

agent could feel a tangled swath of thorns and petals pushing themselves up their throat—

“it’s okay, just keep breathing. keep counting for me.”

“… three…”

once this is done, i can return to them. they don’t have to know, they’ll never have to know— 

“… four...“

agent could feel their mind slow down, their thoughts feeling nonsensical; the effort almost pointless as everything began to flicker in and out of focus, blurry at the edges.

“… f-five…”

in the distance, agent could hear a loud commotion coming from behind the closed doors. what was that? their eyes fluttering, noticing the nurse holding the mask sending a questioning look to the doctor, his attention turned towards the door.

agent could hear… yelling? they— more than one, had deep, masculine voices. 

why did they sound so familiar?

agent took a hold of the nurses’ wrist, their attention snapping back to them; communicating to ease the mask off their face as thunderous reverberations of heavy footsteps grew louder and louder, until there was a split second of silence— and then the doors to the surgery room swung open with a resounding crack as they slammed back against the walls. 

four large bodies barging through the seemingly small doorway, blurred masses of power—

it was them.

they—what?

how—?

agent could feel their eyes blink in surprise, the panic slowly filtering in through the fuzziness of their brain.

nononono—

theyshouldntbehere—!!

despite agents mind racing, the small amount of anaesthetic had already taken effect; only seeming to slacken their grip of nurses’ wrist, agents’ finer motor skills out of reach—

—including the effort of swallowing back the vicious thorns and bloodied flowers now erupting out of agents mouth in a painful choke; blood spraying against the mask and now the nurses’ hands as they are ripped away—by simon?? 

a skull mask with such dark eyes—so close— reaching out to grasp their shoulder to turn their body to the side, his familiar scent of dark whisky, and just simon invading agent’s senses as they follow the direction of his pull. another pair of warm gloved hands on their back and hip assisting in the turn—kyle? his calming earthy scent that reminded agent of the heat of the sun, wafting to their nose. with another familiar—and safe— scent seemingly punching through the mix of simon and kyles— johnny? an addictive smell of sweet cinnamon akin to one of his addictive bear hugs that he often followed up with a playful ruffle to the head, now instead gently cradling agents head forward.

agent couldn’t stop the onslaught of mixed emotions and painful hacking up of blood, flowers and thorny stems spilling out onto the cold floor. confusion, helplessness, fear— a concoction that only seemed to encourage another heaving of blood and flower petals. 

i-i-icant-thisistoomuch—

the beeping of the bp monitor now frantically blaring out in a staccato rhythm, agents’ panic mixed with their chocked hacking reflecting their suffocating agony.

ithurtstoomuch— 

the hand formerly gripping the nurses’ wrist left flailing in the air, until a heavy set of hands grasp it and hold it against a prickly—john? agent trying to focus their tear filled eyes onto the blurred figure kneeled before them. the captain whose rough and calloused yet gentle hands encompassing theirs against his mouth; puffs of his breath hot agents’ cold trembling fingers, his smoky scent swirling around agent in a dizzying trance. 

“it’s okay little love, were here.” john lowly murmurs against their fingers, the plush feeling of his lips and prickly beard sweeping across agents’ knuckles so lovingly.

as if it was following a command from their captain, agents’ tense body finally relaxed back onto the sheets (and their beloveds’ gentle embraces). feeling safe and secure for the first time in weeks since leaving the taskforce; the distant beeping of the monitor slowing down in its rhythm—

only for agents eyes to finally close in exhaustion, as the last of the crimson petals drop from between their bloodied lips. 

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

tric’s notes

i love how i keep saying to myself like yeah this’ll be the last part aND THEN IT ISNT (ಥ‿ಥ) peak clownery. the amount of dialogue keeps increasing (as is the word count) per chapter but uhh oh well. 

had a lil flashback midway there, i may write short? drabbles of little peeks as to how their relationship developed from the day agent met the taskforce = a potluck of more angst and pining!! yaayyyy !!!! but dw there will also be fluff and shenanigans to heh (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

part iv will defs be the last one of this series ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀ˋ

thanks for reading this far!! ♡︎♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username!) 

[dailyadventureprompts]

hey! was wondering if you have some ideas/tips for running a dark fantasy campaign? ive been running one for about a year now and while ive included horror elements im a naturally silly person and i feel like i go a couple sessions without including something strange and off-putting. i do wanna be distinct from grimdark, i want my story to have hope and moments of levity, but still feel scary and like the world is against the pcs.

hope ur day is well :]

Genretalk: Dark Fantasy

Maintaining a consistent tone at our d&d table is a notoriously hard thing to accomplish. Partially it's because it's a collaborative game and not all of our players might be as dictatorially inclined as we are, there's also the dice to contend with and those little polyhedral bastards don't care about dramatic consistency or the wrath of god.

So it falls to us as dungeon masters to do most of the work, but luckily I've found that evoking a specific genre can be pretty easily done through keeping a few ideas in mind while we're running scenes and building out our worlds.

First, a meditation on loss :.|:;

What makes dark fantasy dark? The surface level is aesthetics; dirt covered fauxmedivalism, horror imagery, gritty "realism", a lack of smiles and rainbows and happiness. These are all too common but they only reflect the feelings the genre exists to convey, specifically ones related to both the fear of loss and the suffering caused by it.

If people are going to lose something (whether they be players or npcs), you're going to need them and your audience to care about it, which means learning to build connections and evoke sympathy. Having those moments of levity is SO important because they're the point of attachment for your players, the thing that makes them care about this sometimes rotten world you've crated that they've taken on the responsibility of saving. If you skipped this step you'd be going into grimdark, which is one of the reasons I dislike the genre: death and suffering lose all meaning if there's no alternative.

Likewise, as easy as it is to lose hope, people are going to try to make the best of bad times. There's good food and the warmth of a fire and the company of friends and the chance of something better happening tomorrow. People are going to want these things no matter how turbulent circumstances get, so it's important to focus on them to give contrast to the darkness of your story.

Bad things happen to good people and there's (probably) nothing you can do about it

One of the central conceits of playing D&D is that the players are heroes, characters with a unique power and agency in the world and the ability to shape the outcome of events, specifically to beat the odds and save the day. However we can still lean into the dark side of dark fantasy by highlighting that while the players are privileged by their protagonist status, most other people aren't.

Most NPCS the party end up getting to know should have something tragic in their backstory; a war, a famine, a plague, a loved one's death. This will have affected them deeply and have coloured their outlook on the world and will set up their later dramatic arc. The town magistrate is going to have opinions about adventurers after her sister befriended a passing gang of sellswords and ended up dying in childbirth after being seduced by their charismatic leader. The townspeople are unlikely to rebel against their petty and sadistic baron since they remember his military acumen that saved them during the last border war. This also sets up the unexpected moments where the party can fight against the darkness of the world by getting people to see past the lifetime of cruelty they've been forced to endure.

A centeral part of the players having agency is making choices, but sometimes things go wrong, and sometimes there's no good options. Innocent people get hurt, there are costs that we end up having to pay that may or may not be worth the price. Keeping the young lovers apart and letting the unpleasant political marriage go through is the only way to avert war. There's a murder demon stalking town and the only way to banish it is for someone innocent to be ritually sacrificed, none of the heroes count, they've all got blood on their hands.

One of the best tricks I've learned to highlight the "no good options" approach is to present the party with a status quo that needs to change, but characters they like who are reliant upon it. It's easy to justify toppling the evil empire, those guys are jerks and are actively making life worse for everyone, but things get messy when doing what needs to be done involves making life worse for a lot of generally good people.

Messy decisions are what we want in dark fantasy because it really gives the party agency over the story. Are they willing to give up something they care about to perform an act of heroism? Are they willing to let the world tip further into chaos for the sake of seeing justice done? If there is no right choice, then what choice will you make?

The universe trends towards darkness

Worldbuilding is an important part of establishing your tone, and while you don't need to constantly keep ratcheting up how dreadful things are it pays to be mindful while thinking up new details for your setting.

Living in the world is a bloody business and people are all too often accepting of awful things if it makes their lives easier. On the base level it's the "kill people who are different monsters take their stuff" angle of self enrichment, but it gets more abstract as you venture into the non-adventuring levels of society. It's stuff like religions venerating painful martyrdoms as miracles, joyous feast days and festivals to commemorate some bloody event, national or family pride over participation in historic slaughter. A dark fantasy world is one that celebrates it's hypocrisy and compromises because it has long given up on good actually winning out.

To really hammer in that "fighting against the odds" feeling, stories/legends/songs about other heroes should either be tragedies or well known falsehoods.

Change (to say nothing of actual improvement) comes at terrible cost. It isn't fair that the world/narrative/universe is set up this way, but now the heroes have to deal with it.

Artsource

[kakavasha-of-nihility]

We shall meet again, under Kakava's shimmering auroras...

"Do stay alive"? Mmm... well, who am I to even dare defying the doctor's orders~?

Kakavasha had been fated to die, ever since he was born on the day of one of the very sparse rains in Sigonia-IV. Blessed with Gaiathra's rain, a lucky child, they said-- and in the end, it was luck of the double-edged sword.

Aventurine, the Stoneheart of Stratagems, had indeed been lucky enough to still be standing after all that he'd been through-- but why has he lived time and time again? Should he not be grateful? And yet he found he never was; for Kakavasha wished to die. Why should he live only to endure more suffering when he could finally find eternal peace?

And when that fated day finally came-- his grand bet, his all in, his final gambit, the most wondrous of performances-- he found himself here.

Not alive, yet not dead, having long since parted with his past self, standing alone in a void of Nihility clutching only the scroll Dr. Veritas Ratio had given him. That Galaxy Ranger had told him that this fated incident was not his end-- that he would live to bet even higher than before. A saving grace, truly-- an angel in the skin of an Emanator.

Maybe this darkness was beautiful, he thought. The stars twinkling in the dark almost reminded him of home; a dimly sparkling reminder that he would see the dawn after all, that there would finally be light waiting for him.

And so he waited, preparing for the day of his rebirth. He would chase his dawn in the form of the golden and crimson-hued irises of the man who has always had his heart, take back his name and avenge the legacy of all Avgins, and see to the destruction of the IPC once and for all.

Notes from the moderator:

~ Mod also runs the @aventurine-official rp account, so the format is her own and is not plagiarized :)

This Aventurine is canon divergent, simply an idea of what happens to him if and when he survives the Nihility void :)

My Aven takes back his true name and turns to the path of Nihility, and finds his way out in about a year or so after his disappearance. He's finally free from the IPC as they believe him to be dead and Jade has taken his place as the Stoneheart of Preservation, and his goal is to bring the IPC's shady secrets to light and bring the whole organization crashing down.

He still fights with his dice and poker chips, although losing the ability to shield because of his path diversion and instead casting ace cards onto enemies.

(I might add more details later, or link a headcanon post!)

Guidelines:

~ Keep the asks sfw if you please, suggestive is okay!

~ No random links in asks unless they are links to other Tumblr posts (if they are there, please specify what they are)

~ Be kind, please. Any hateful comments related but not limited to racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, ageism and transphobia will not be tolerated here and you may be blocked.

~ All ships (age-appropriate) are welcome. (I personally believe Aventurine is gay as hell, so he will have a noticeable interest in men versus women).

~ Try to avoid sending DMs to the mod unless you are another mod

~ Anons are more than welcome here! You may have a personalized tag and everything :)

List of current anon signoffs here

Key (if applicable):

" " : for dialogue

* * : for movements

( ) : ooc

Tags:

#ace of spades ♠️ : Art reblogs

#roll the dice 🎲 : Random thoughts and calm moments

#trump card 🃏 : Asks from anons and others

#beyond the void 🌠 : Interactions with Honkai Star Rail blogs

#harbingers of hell 💵 : Interactions with / mentions of members of the IPC

#queen of clubs ♣️ : Interactions with / mentions of Acheron

#ace of hearts ❤️ : Interactions with / mentions of Dr. Ratio

#angel boy 🪶 : Interactions with / mentions of Sunday

Masterlist post of Honkai Star Rail-official blogs linked here

[sigmaelxgr]

Ive never introduced them to you didnt I? Heres what they look like on the ESO european serv:

Here is Sigma-El, also called by Xangr himself "the Child", or "Sun", or "Beloved", "My Dearest", "Gold of my eyes"... He's their primordial aspect, the One that came first, The Truth behind the masks. Sigma-El is made multiple, and some of his aspects have been given or gave themselves names to give meaning to their own existence. Sigma-El sleeps, most of the time, tenderly protected by Sangre/Xangr, that cherishes him like a sweet mother. Sigma-El being the First means their first name of all was Sigma-El, and some dunmers still call them this way. When asked, Xangr tells that Sigma-El means "Fallen from the Sky". Sigma-El is the sweetest being on Nirn, immaculate by nature - his soul splitted in half at a young age to protect him from tragical events. The second aspect is Xangr.

Xangr is the one you'll encounter the most. Very androgyneous in his demeanor, extremely meticulous with his appareance and almost always seeming of an other-wordly beauty and serenity, Xangr is a ferocious mother, protecting the Child in them with both tenderness and cruelty. He's made wise by years of suffering and questionning about his nature, his purpose, his role, he saw glimpses of Oblivion through despair and rage of having no satisfying answer, and grew back to care only about themselves as the lesson he ultimately learned from hideous past and mistakes. Xangr is extremely self-centered, and is an exceptionnaly gifted sorcerer. He may look lonely, but his focusing on Sigma-El, on "Us Both" makes him capable to endure it. It's him, his part of their soul that splitted to concieve Molkhun Dahkem, the Third aspect.

Here comes Molkhun Dahkem. Molkhun is their most recent aspect, born the 20th of Evening-Star, three years ago, on the Chil'a - and Molag Bal's day of invocation. Molkhun has a complicated birth; he's what remains of the part Xangr left behind him when he fleed the Worm Cult, just before the Planemeld stopped. At this time, Xangr used to be so implicated in the Cult, fascinated by the figure of Mannimarco (that defied all things he bitterly learned about Divines and Ancesters, that gave him answers and FINALLY an inspiration, a reason to live, someone he could aspire to be). When Mannimarco betrayed Molag Bal, the Lord of Domination, Xangr was already a talented conjurator - he understood Bal's calls and heard His Voice through every ritual he led... The idea that the Worm King betrayed the Prince hitted him so hard, it's like he reclaimed lucidity a few seconds of clarity. Sigma-El awoke, took Xangr by the hand, and broke his shell that was anchored into the ground like nothing could remove him from the Cult. The broken shell, later, would grow in the shadows to become Molkhun Dahkem.

(note: Molkhun and Sangre share the same name. Molkhun means "blood" in dunmeri and Sangre is the name of a pigment used to simulate blood painting. Dahkem means "ink", inspiring a deep deep black.)

(note 2: the nix-oax's name is Red Curry, and it's Sigma-El's favorite buddy)

[2bit-sunshine]

Hi everyone im danny and im feeling good for once in my twenties. Have been since about may. I cut off an old friend who mistreated my best friend. Ive helped my friends a ton. Im working on a security clearence for work. I am feeling much more confidant driving than i have ever. Ive bern socializing a lot and playing games like i used to. Ive been world building again and spending more time with my dog. Im working on my health and am actually confident in my body in a way i havent felt since i was thin as a waif. But i havent really lost a lot of weight.

The world is bleak and i worry and i hurt and i grieve all the people suffering out there. But right now my life actually feels. Worth it. My life is worth it. I havent thought about how id kill myself in months. I still dont have someone or someones to be intimate with and that hurts as it alwayd has. But im doing better

I am better

Idk. I really thought id be dead this time 12 years a go and i would be too dead to care about anything. I didnt think id be alive before i felt any kind of content or ambition to do more. But here i am. Im feeling content. And i want more too.

I know it sounds cliche at this point. But it does get better. I know it could get worse. But this feeling i have. This happiness? Its worth it. Its worth it to endure the bad times. Because while nothing lasts forever. The bad doesnt last forever either. I think part of it was acceptance of the things i had no power over and the things i could control, i have all the power to do so.

I alsl have amazing friends. I used to think people barely tolerated me and hated me. I spent years being told that if people didnt want me around they wouldnt have me around. I told myself it sometimes but never felt it. Never believed it.

But i do now. I believe it now. You gotta keep telling yourself those words of advice your loved ones give you. They will make sense one day. You will feel them when they are true. Your demons and shadows are not what defines you forever.

I worry so much for my friends who have such troubles still. I worry ill fall back into old habits. I worry some tragic thing is going to show me what im really made of. But it will be okay again. The sun will shine again. The spring will come again, however brief. The birds will sing again. The stars will always shine.

Idk. If youre reading this and having trouble. With yourself or your friends or your lovers or your family. It does get better. It might need time. It might be a long time. Its taken me over 2 decades to feel happy like i imagine i was as a child. And it hurt a lot along the way amd i made so manh mistakes amd fuck ups and lost friends and lovers.

Ive sat by while people get hurt. I wondered if i could even be forgiven for that.

The answer was yes. In a way. And sometimes it was no.

I cant change the past and some things shouldnt have happened. Shouldnt have at all. But they did and here we are. What to do now?

Forward. The only direction that really matters is forward. So forward i go. We go. Youll go.

The most important step is the next one.

You got this friends.

[khalixvitae]

the mosaics would be soooo perfect. ive always been haunted with images of an extremely decadent mosaic/stained glass window depicting a breathtaking religious figure while someone lays slumped up against it either really bloodied or pathetic. like the brainworms have got to come out some way or another. im pretty sure reincarnated yuu would have to look starkly different to past life because rookvil would definitely construct a grand, gothic cathedral with countless stained glass windows depicting their beloved as holy, revered, awe-inspiring. should yuu visit it, and they likely will, they'd have to bear witness to it. every day, the townsfolk lay their eyes upon the enigmatic icon as they offer their whole hearted worship with hands clasped together in earnestness. flowers yuu used to loved would be placed ever so often as tribute to them. when yuu sits in the pews, they hear the people next to them mutter some rather unorthodox wishes-- they pray for their safe return. i mean, the christians often pray for the second coming of jesus, and the cathedral draws on many architectural aspects of Christian places of worship-- it is not unheard of for religious practitioners to hope for their god to reveal themself once more, but these people pray for nothing else like they do. not for prosperity and love and health and forgiveness-- the return of this deity is all that to them and more. what if yuu visits this cathedral on their first day in town, acquainting themselves with the area first before painting for the lords, and it turns out the person they sit next to is actually rook or vil? they wouldn't know, but he might. they'd ask him innocent questions about this unique, localized deity, seeing as they seemingly are not aligned with Christianity or any other notable religion, and he'd respond as though their identity was a given, their grandeur were obvious by a mere glance, the kindness of their heart and hand far out does any other religious icon. they'd be rather confused about the very niche belief system of this towns religion, so he'd offer them a tour of the place, indulge them a little. gesture to every single artistic detail as if it were born from his own fingers. unveil the secrets of the ones who built this cathedral ever so slightly, and of their desire, their purpose, their faith. he'd speak of very zealous practitioners who come into the Booths late at night to profess their hearts desire that only the silence of night and the ears of this deity are privy to. of the trembling hands and the teary eyes and the lips pressed to the coloured glass-- all out of worship, of course! and he's so very confident that their ardent worship will be answered one day. only if he knew that his prayers for his love were answered the moment yuu overheard them. when yuu finally leaves for the day, he remains-- leaning his back against the mosaic of their past life. only, instead of letting his gaze rise skyward towards the beloved figure in the window, like it was instinct for his eyes to train themselves upon the dearest thing to his heart and nothing else, he lets his eyes linger on the gorgeous stranger. he realised he never asked for their name. but it's a small town here, anyways. he'll find out, sooner or later. and he lies there a little while longer, kissing the mosaic he so painstakingly made and installed. maybe there can be a scene where rookvil returns, bloodied and wearied, but taking refuge at the foot of the mosaic. like im too tired to think of any more ideas but i definitely?? need blood??? in a vampire and religion coded fic????

anyways about yuu recognizing the artworks made in their likeness around the town, they can either

1. look very different, so themes of change and endurance of love can be incorporated

2. suffer a curse that unables anyone to recognize past yuu, so more plot heavy ideas can be incorporated

3. have the face of the artwork shrouded, but knowing rookvil, they'd likely want their face to be the most notable aspect

also there is definitely a scene where yuu helps vil pick out an outfit for dinner at their castle, or perhaps a fancy event in town. his servants are too busy with prep, and rook has already gotten ready to oversee everyone-- yuu should be a dear and help him out. yuu can either be the one kneeling before vil, helping him put on his undergarments which really are just a lingerie set, fastening the buckles on his shoe, pulling his zipper up.... hands brushing against his skin far too often and their breath kissing him. or vil can be the one to pick out an outfit for them, since they likely did not come with an outfit for a grand event. there, vil could drop very vague recountings of his past and his desire for beauty and perfection and all his hard work and all his previous experiences getting ready except they sound strangely outdated. they lay their eyes upon a gorgeous reliquary sitting in the middle of his dresser, and they ask what's inside. he replies, only the most valuable and priceless items of his amid his luxury. it's a limited edition and rare collection! but he does hint at having teeth and blood and hair inside it, and yuu doesn't press any further. gothic people are often for macabre trinkets anyways, they suppose. and vil notes that their hair is exactly like the one he keeps inside the ostentatious reliquary as he works on their hair.

alternatively, the reliquary could have past yuu's face on it, so it could be a chance for vil to add onto the story of this mysterious face that is all over the town and the furnishing of this castle. while vil is in the closet, rummaging for items, they peek into it. full of teeth and hair and blood and, maybe, preserved skin and tattered fabrics and a dried flower that is coincidentally their favorite and what seems to be a love letter and luxurious perfume bottles and paintbrushes and-- before they can see what else is inside this strange trove, vil returns, so they promptly close it and they resume with their getting ready.

urk im so sleepy i can't even see the letters on my keyboard. reliquaries are so pretty. hrngh. i nerd to sleep

I’m literally obsessed with the concept of RookVil unintentionally (or intentionally) deifying their lover over hundreds of years of trying to preserve their memory oh my GOD??? The village slowly forgetting a time where the mysterious figure was not venerated by both them and their lords??? And idk why but. I feel like Vil would be the one to really take the process to the extreme in his grief.

And on reasons for them to come back bloody hooo boy. If they thought they’d found a trace of you they’d hurl themselves into hell- they’d follow your trail anywhere, into places even they aren’t fully equipped for. Making the long trek back empty handed, covered in blood that does not belong to them, they’d stop at the cathedral as if it was second instinct. Apologetically kissing the mosaic, it’s like their grief is fresh anew- they have to start all over again any time something like this happens.

Anywho !!! Sleep well anonie <3 !!! Get some rest <3

[jaysflix]

Unrequited (I-IV)

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, 𖤐 Chapter IV

Part 1, Chapter 4 𖤐 The Facade of Truth; Illumination Genre: Romance, drama/angst Pairing(s): Terzo/Reader, Copia/Reader Chapter Synopsis: Leaving the cell only to return to the grief of it, broken just as you were before.

Warnings: violence, blood

1.6k words

Leaving the room was a risk. You were hesitant to step out of the boundary that protected you indefinitely. Terzo’s sanctuary kept you from facing the Cardinal, saving you from more heartbreak than you could endure. His reaction would be unpredictable. Remembering the moment he heard from you that you were to be married, the way he crumpled in front of you, kneeling with the utmost dismay, the possibility of seeing it for a second time was insufferable. Being with him through the years gave you time to understand him almost completely, yet you never saw him become so shattered in seconds. Terzo stood in the doorway before you, fatigue darkening the paint around the eyes. They’d gotten gentler once they sensed your hesitation, no shroud of annoyance left to convey. 

You hated that. You hated how he always managed to understand your immense suffering and the way he let you accustom to the strange, sudden circumstances at your own pace because it reminded you of Copia. The generosity of his mind and soul were the things you adored of your Cardinal. Seeing how Terzo manages to completely mirror the same patience meant significantly to you, but a tinge of fear lingered in the stream to your heart.

It's funny, the amount of anxiety should be able to kill you, yet your body won’t give up. The chance that your limbs hold much more power than your mind causes a more willing behavior than you’d ever experience. Your legs scream for you to run, and it's the mind that keeps you tied down, frozen in your spot. Averting your eyes to meet the delicate cloth fitted perfectly on his fingers, you accepted the help. He lured you forward, over the invisible barrier trapping you from fresh air. You let your body loose just this once until you were chest to chest, heart to heart with Terzo. The end of his lips tugged upward faintly. 

The beat of his heart helped you realize that everything that’s happened up to this point was in fact, not a dream. As terrifying as the feeling weighed on you, the only choice you had was to accept it for what it was.

“Finding the Cardinal should be no problem.” His voice ripped you from fantasy. Averting your eyes to meet his, they were closer than you’d remembered them before. Though his heterochromia was most distinguished, many assume the blinding white was the first eye anyone noticed. They would be wrong. For you, it was the opposite. The dominant birthmark, a reminder of the Emeritus line, shrivels when you lose yourself to his darker one. Shivers ran across your spine while his fingers lay on your waist, interrupting your train of thought.

The two of you walked out to the courtyard together, arms intertwined, a trickery to the public when truth be told, it was to keep you from fueling your reluctance. The gesture induced a powerful notion, in himself and of those who traveled past. You felt it too, how Terzo was faced with the obligation to be your security. Silent pride glowed in his aura like he was meant for this role. Jealous looks thrown at you diminished because of his strong, chest-puffed posture. He lived for the heroic role with one hell of an audience. So, the attention spurred on you continued to promote his burning conceit. 

Cardinal Copia wished for judgment day to inch closer. The world looked against him, even the demons did not dare touch on the subject. He’d been neglecting work, drowning in the darkness of his room. He hadn’t had a meal yet, and despite his belly’s constant whine, he did not feel like eating. A letter was sent to his room that morning, expressing how the inconsistency was unacceptable, and if he isn’t able to complete the papers by the end of the week, he’d be sent away. Not literally meaning, as lots of people took it. No, being sent away meant being sent to the grave. Copia, at first, didn’t mind that plan, but he’d refused to give up.

He donned his black cassock again, aimlessly sauntering around the courtyard. The blinding rays of sun infected the church, spreading delight on the faces of deacons. Though the fabrics matched, their moods certainly contrasted. They, of course residing in a satanic church, wore opposite colors of a typical roman-catholic priest. The Cardinal favored the color in the moment of his despair but seeing their happiness only released an anger he’d never experienced. 

Typically, the sisters wore makeup according to their admired papa, or patterns of their own to fit their individual personalities. A lot of them, however, didn’t want to wake up any earlier to put in the effort of the face paint. It was nice to see them all express themselves. Curiosity struck Copia from time to time, wondering how the sisters looked without it. Ironic considering he never seemed to remove his makeup either. Most of what he saw throughout the halls was the resemblance to Terzo. Every corner he turned and through every walkway he entered, Terzo seemed to haunt him. It took almost everything in him not to argue or highlight the indecent acts he committed against him.

There was a hint of denial deep within his core and he stayed up at night praying the truth would be concealed no matter what it was. He expressed his worry to you once, and as silly as it sounded, you tried your best to ignore it. Naturally, Copia considered the feeling to be an overreaction. Though in instances, more than once, the way Terzo eyed you like candy;  a treat to snuff out his cravings. From the start, Terzo treated you with respect as he did to everyone regardless of whether they returned the attitude. Then, there would be little pecks on your hands, eventually transitioning to your cheeks, inching closer to your lips. He rarely saw you, yet those actions spoke for themselves. Copia began to distrust his lifelong friend. Even more so now. 

A breathless whisper, carried by the smallest morning breeze called to him from his dark world and ordered him to stop. He became ice cold, convincing himself that it was merely a delusion. He held his head, feeling the familiarity of weight dropping in his stomach, pushing the vile closer to the roof of his mouth. He swallowed hard, hand shaking violently as he removed it from its place.

It’s a dream, he told himself.

None of what’s happening is real.

Until the crash of your body against his, the thoughts dispersed. Copia’s once cold figure warmed in the embrace. He felt your fingers claw at his back, gripping at his clothes to ensure he wouldn’t fall away because losing him for a second time was not an outcome you will live to take. You matched his shakiness, sobbing into him and reciting his name like a prayer. The pressure of your nails was enough to bruise him. Your arms began to ache from the tight hook Copia was admitted into. It wasn’t until you calmed down that you realized he hadn’t moved once.

You pulled away, confusion evident in your hesitance. His head bowed down, avoiding any kind of contact. Instead of those kind eyes you pined for, you were met with the biretta, placed neatly on top of his unkempt hair. The vicious black paint, he knew, would betray him if he were to let any source of sadness overwhelm him. So he kept his head facing the floor. Warm hands made way to his chin, easing him up only for him to breathe in sharp, almost frustratedly. Still shying from your gaze, he removed your touch from his face, eyes wandering rapidly. He whispered curses, knowing you noticed the obvious glisten of tears breaking the surface,

“What’s wrong?” You asked in a whisper, feeling the lump of fear sneak its way up your throat. 

Just when he finally looked at you, he paused, noticing the figure traveling with you lurk from behind. In an instant, his vibrations became violent. The quiver of his anger was so sudden, your tears spilled again in fright. 

Terzo was close enough for Copia to grab a fistful of his clothes, shaking him to the ground. The biretta fell away as they tussled. Terzo resisted the strength of him, aiming for Copia’s neck to throw him back. The Cardinal was fuming. Hate scorched his insides and your skin burned as you held him from going any further. Pulling Copia to his feet, he snatched himself away from you and dived at Terzo, throwing a powerful fist, drawing blood. You yelped, hearing the crack of bone. Terzo’s hand darted to cover his nose,

“Merda!” He shouted, red running down to his lips. Copia wasn’t close to finishing what he’d begun, but if it weren’t for you, he’d have Terzo begging for his life about now.

“What is wrong with you?” You yelled at him, unable to contain the shakiness of your voice. He stayed silent, heaving as he watched you rush to Terzo’s side, peeling away his stained gloves to see the damage. The thick of his blood kept dripping uncontrollably. 

Copia noticed the stinging feel of his neck, and his hands never stopped shaking. Blood was also soaked on his gloves, almost polishing the leather. Jealousy slowly replaced his anger, and he should’ve felt ashamed of his actions, but he didn’t. 

You were almost too shocked to speak or even look at him. You never imagined he would do such a thing yet here you were cleaning his mess with the sleeves of your habit. It was normal to feel this way, but never to act upon it in such a manner. It was unlike him.

Notes: Short chapter, I know. Just wanna apologize for the wait on this one, I know it's extremely underwhelming but I knew if I didn't post it now then I'd never finish. I'm also gonna try to upload this on ao3 so I'll provide links when possible.

[mccdreamys-writes]

smiles for miles – 5. who's to blame?

and i wanna cry, i wanna learn to love, but all my tears have been used up on another love. - Tom Odell, Another Love

S E P T E M B E R   1 6 T H   2 0 1 1

In the midst of the chaos and disorientation that had consumed me for what felt like an eternity, a moment of clarity descended upon me yesterday, like a sudden burst of sunlight piercing through stormy clouds. It was as if I had stumbled upon a hidden path in the dense fog of confusion, offering both solace and unease in equal measure. And there it was before me, emerging from the haze of uncertainty—the familiar sight of my father's old shed.

This was no ordinary building; it was a place steeped in the echoes of past pain and suffering. The walls bore witness to the agony I endured, etched with the scars of my father's wrath. Taking in the rundown interior, my heart sank. The shed, once filled with light, was now cloaked in darkness. Its windows, once clear, were now obscured by dirt and neglect. And in the empty space, there sat one solitary chair, a haunting reminder of the horrors that unfolded here. Some things just never change.

Back when I was young, before we moved to Alabama, this shed was a house of horrors. It bore witness to my father's violent temper, his fists leaving bruises and scars. It became my prison, where I felt trapped and powerless, unable to escape the torment.

But even in my darkest moments, there was a glimmer of hope—a girl named Alex.

I still vividly recall the day she stumbled upon me right here in this shed, witnessing the horror that unfolded within these walls. Her eyes widened in shock at the sight of me—battered, bruised, and silently pleading for help.

After that day, I made her promise, swearing her to secrecy with a solemn vow. She pledged never to set foot in this cursed place again unless absolutely necessary, driven by love and desperation.

In the dim light trickling through the dusty windows, I couldn't shake a growing sense of unease. Did Alex receive my desperate messages hidden in my poems? Or did my words vanish into the silence between us?

With each moment passing, the shadows deepened, casting eerie shapes on the worn floorboards. The echoes of my unanswered pleas bounced off the walls, mixing with the thick air of uncertainty filling the space.

In the depths of my mind, her face still lingers—the worry etched on her features from that day long ago. But now, without her comforting presence, doubts gnaw at me.

I couldn't shake the nagging doubt: did she uncover the hidden messages woven into my poetry? Or did my heart's secrets remain locked away, buried beneath layers of metaphor and symbolism?

The chair, once a haven, now bears the weight of endless hours of agony. It sits there underneath me, weathered and worn, a silent witness to the torment that unfolded in this dimly lit shed.

But it's not just the chair that holds memories; it's the shed itself. Its walls echo with the shadows of forgotten moments. The air carries whispers of my troubled past, each creak and groan of the wooden beams a haunting reminder of what once was.

And there was always that ache for Alex, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness closing in around me. My heart yearned for her, a silent plea echoing inside me with each passing moment.

Yet, as I looked within, I couldn't ignore the toll my imprisonment had taken on my body. A persistent throb pulsed in my head, a painful souvenir of the violence I endured. Bruises adorned my hands, souvenirs of countless struggles, while my legs protested with each movement.

Then there was the IV, a constant reminder of my captivity. With each drop of blood drawn, it felt like a piece of my soul drained away, a silent offering to my captors' unquenchable thirst.

The room had once again plunged into darkness, like it had done yesterday, leaving me completely blind. Not even a tiny spark of light could break through the thick blackness, leaving me to grope around in the darkness.

In the midst of this engulfing blackness, a groan echoed through the still air, sending shivers down my spine. It felt like it came from the very depths of the room, filling me with a sense of dread.

With a shaky voice, I called out into the darkness, hoping for a response. "Hello?" I said, but my words seemed to vanish into thin air, swallowed by the darkness.

There was no reply, only silence weighing down on me like a heavy blanket. With no sight or sound to guide me, I felt lost, my senses straining to make sense of the eerie darkness.

"I could use some light in here!" I joked, hoping to break the tense atmosphere that enveloped me like a suffocating fog.

To my surprise, the room suddenly flooded with brightness, making me squint until my eyes adjusted. As the glare faded, I saw another person tied up like me, sitting nearby.

Silhouetted against the glare, he appeared unscathed unlike myself, devoid of the telltale signs of bruising and injury, and he didn't have an IV drip like I did.

Struggling against my restraints, I turned to him. "Hey," I said softly, feeling a mix of relief and curiosity. "Who... who are you?"

He shifted uncomfortably, his discomfort palpable in the air. "I'm James," he responded, his voice rough from resisting his captivity..

Nodding in acknowledgment, I attempted to maintain a semblance of friendliness despite the underlying unease that permeated the space between us. "Pleasure to meet you, James," I offered, though my mind was buzzing with questions. "What brings you to this place?"

As I spoke, I couldn't shake the feeling of confusion. Why was he here? I knew why I was tied up, but his presence added a whole new layer of mystery to our situation.

As James wrestled against his bonds, his voice quivered with uncertainty and panic. "I-I don't know..." he stuttered, his speech muddled from whatever drugs they'd given him. His eyes darted around the dim room, seeking answers that seemed to slip through his grasp. "Why am I here? Let me out!"

I observed quietly as he voiced his frustration, his cries bouncing off the walls of our confined space. When his vigor dwindled and his protests turned into resigned sighs, I offered him a grim reality. "Sorry, buddy," I began, my voice filled with sympathy. "Nobody's around to hear you. We're all alone out here."

James slumped back into his seat, his defeated demeanor speaking volumes about the grim hopelessness of our situation. Seeking connection in our shared plight, he turned to me. "How long have you been here?" he asked, curiosity laced in his voice.

I paused, grappling with the passage of time in this bleak existence. "Conscious? About three days or so," I confessed, the days blending together in a haze of confusion. "But probably longer, considering the times I've been knocked out. Hard to say."

His next question caught me off guard, forcing me to confront my own identity in this dark reality. "What's your name?" James whispered, his voice barely audible in the gloom.

Just as I was about to share my name with James, the sudden plunge into darkness silenced my words in mid-sentence. Surprised, I raised my voice in protest, "Hey, it's rude to interrupt an ongoing conversation!"

In the enveloping blackness, I could barely make out the faint sound of footsteps drawing near, followed by the clatter of objects being set on the table nearby. The anticipation of what was coming mixed with the tension in the air, adding a heavy weight to the atmosphere. Then, just as suddenly as it had vanished, the light flooded back into the room, revealing our confined surroundings once more.

A distorted voice echoed through the shed, its orders resounding in our ears. "Start writing," it commanded, its tone cold and unyielding.

Frustration and defiance surged within me as I retorted, "Again?! You know, you can't force the delicate process of art creation!" The words spilled out with a mix of annoyance and resistance, a refusal to yield to our captor's demands.

James, visibly shaken by our plight, added his own plea, "Please, let us go! Why are we even here?"

But there was no response, only the heavy silence of our captivity, broken intermittently by distant sounds of movement and machinery.

"What do they want you to write?" James asked, his voice tinged with apprehension, his eyes darting nervously between the blank sheets of paper and the solitary pen on the table.

Meeting his gaze, I noticed the uncertainty reflected in his eyes, a mirror to my own unease. The table before us, usually a mundane object, now held an air of ominous significance, as if the very act of writing would seal our fate. "A poem," I responded, the weight of our predicament heavy in my tone.

"A poem?" James echoed, disbelief evident in his voice, his brows furrowing with confusion.

"Yes, a poem," I confirmed, my voice steady despite the tumult of thoughts racing through my mind. It was a simple request, yet in the context of our confinement, it carried an inexplicable weight, as if our captor sought to extract something deeper from us than mere words.

The silence lingered between us, broken only by the soft rustle of paper as I reached for the pen with my freed hand. Its cool metal felt strangely comforting against my skin, a small anchor in the midst of uncertainty.

"Why a poem, though?" James questioned, his curiosity piqued, his eyes searching for answers in the depths of mine.

I sighed, feeling the burden of our situation pressing down upon me. "Because that's what I do," I replied wearily, my voice tinged with resignation. "I'm a poet. And it seems our captor has tasked me with the responsibility of composing verses for my friend."

James leaned in, his eyes alight with curiosity as he fixed his gaze on me. "I'm a big fan of poetry," he confessed earnestly. "What kind of poems have you written? Anything out there for us to read?"

A nostalgic smile graced my lips as I delved into the memories of my past literary endeavors. "I penned 'The Tales of The Night Sky'," I revealed, a sense of pride creeping into my voice despite the grim situation we found ourselves in.

Recognition flickered across James' features, his eyes widening in surprise. "Wait... You're Mai C. Lee?" he blurted out, his disbelief evident in his tone.

I nodded, confirming his realization with a solemn affirmation. "That's right, Maile at your service," I confirmed.

James couldn't contain his excitement, his voice filled with admiration and wonder. "Wow, that's incredible!" he exclaimed, his astonishment palpable. "I can't believe I'm-"

I raised a hand, interrupting his enthusiastic outburst. "Hold on there, no need to go all fanboy on me," I teased gently, a faint smile quirking at the corner of my mouth. "You need to conserve your energy, sir, and so do I."

His excitement dampened by my reminder, James took a breath and composed himself. "Apologies, I got carried away," he admitted sheepishly.

I offered him an understanding nod. "No worries," I reassured him, empathizing with the whirlwind of emotions he must have been experiencing upon learning my identity.

His interest was instantly sparked, evident in the way his eyes widened with genuine curiosity. "So, who exactly are these poems for?" he inquired, trying to lean in even closer, as if eager to unravel the mystery behind my words.

I let out a deep, contemplative sigh, allowing the weight of my memories to settle over me like a heavy cloak. "Back in Kansas City, there was this friend," I began, my voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "We were like two peas in a pod, inseparable. But life happened, pulling us in different directions. Still, her presence lingers within me, and I can't help but feel like she's a part of who I am. So, these poems, they're for her."

As I spoke, James's expression softened, absorbing the depth of my words. "Isn't it funny how life twists and turns?" he mused, a wistful smile playing at his lips. "My ex-wife, she had a story quite like that. Born and raised here in Kansas City."

A somber shadow fell over the conversation as the realization dawned on me. It was clear now why James was here, sharing this confined space with me. "Let me guess," I ventured, a sense of understanding coloring my tone. "Her name was Alex."

James's demeanor shifted, his features reflecting a mix of resignation and sorrow. "Yes... My Alex," he confirmed, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "Or the Alex that used to be my Alex, but never really was my Alex, because she'd always been your Alex, even when she was with me."

I clutched the pen tightly in my hand, finding solace in its familiar weight amidst the uncertainty that enveloped us. With each stroke of the pen against the paper, the room echoed with the rhythmic sound, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence that surrounded us.

James's voice shattered the quiet, his tone laced with curiosity. "What's that you're doing?" he inquired, peering over at the paper with interest.

"I'm writing a poem," I responded, my voice soft but resolute, determined to find some semblance of control in our unsettling situation.

His next question caught me off guard, like a sudden jolt of electricity. "Is this all because of Alex?" he ventured, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

The pen in my hand felt heavier, my grip tightening involuntarily. "If you even think of blaming her," I retorted, my voice a low growl, "I might just start training to use this pen as a lethal weapon."

I paused, taking a moment to collect myself before continuing. "The only one responsible is the person who brought us here, probably hoping Alex would show up. So, excuse me while I send her a warning not to come." With that, I redirected my focus to the paper, letting my emotions spill onto the page as I penned the verses of the poem.

[theunwillingassistant]

Recovering [THE CHAIR, PART TWENTY TWO]

Lufroz didn’t know how long he had been unconscious. Hours? Days? He couldn’t tell at all. But by the time he began to emerge, he began to feel pain, as if it were welcoming him back into the world of the living.

It was so strong that Lufroz tried to cling to his unconsciousness, but to no avail. The more he felt pain, the harder it was to stay asleep and, soon enough, he woke up, with no possibility of going back to the blissful sleep he was already starting to miss.

He opened his eyes slowly, clenching his teeth at the amount of pain he was in. His entire body was hurting, with some areas worse than others. For a second, he was confused as to why everything hurt so bad- until his mind began to remember everything. His face turned pale as memories washed over him, memories that were way too fresh for his own good.

God… God. No wonder he was in so much pain… The hour he had spent with Bastoff felt like it had lasted an entire day. He didn’t dare imagining the state he would be in if it had been the case. 

He could barely move. His entire body screamed every time he tried and, despite the urge to look under the covers to assess the damage, he decided to remain still. He could already feel the cast around his foot, and that was enough for him. Instead, he watched his surroundings. It really didn’t take long for him to recognize the room he was in.

It functioned as an infirmary. Well, it was more the place where they stored all kinds of medicine, really, but there were two beds, which were used anytime someone from Morgan’s team was hurt. They obviously couldn’t go to the hospital for very obvious reasons, so a room like this one was a must in this type of work.

There were a lot of different cabinets, all filled with medical supplies of all types. There was a fridge too, which Lufroz assumed was used to store special kinds of medicine. Each bed had its own nightstand, but nothing was on top. Next to Lufroz was an IV drip that was connected to his arm, probably a pain killer, but the bag was empty. This was probably the reason he woke up in the first place.

Other than that, the room had nothing else, really. There was no desk for any doctor, as they were called only when there was a need for them. No one worked here full time, and those who did were paid not only for the care, but also for their silence. The young man knew that it would be a while before he saw the doctor again. He still hoped someone would replace the bag on the IV drip, though.

He sighed. The pain made it hard for him to think. He tried to rest again, but he couldn’t. Between his suffering, and his own anxiety, there wasn’t much he could do but think. 

Was it all over? Now that he had endured Bastoff’s torture, he was going to be free again, right? That was what Morgan had said before, or at least that was something he remembered, a hope he clinged to. He honestly didn’t think he would be able to get back on that damned chair after all that… The only thing he wanted was to get better, and… Try to forget everything that had happened in the last few days. 

Although, deep down, he knew very well he wouldn’t be able to. This was just another traumatizing event, one that was added to the multiple horrible memories he had gathered while working for Morgan. It had only been a month, really, but it felt like years, honestly. It wasn’t like he had had a choice, though- it was either working for Morgan, or die from his hands. 

Anything to stay alive, he had thought back then. Was he regretting it? Somewhat. It was debatable whether this new life was worth living, especially after everything that had happened to him this past month. Between the verbal, physical, and sexual abuse… All of this was just new trauma added to the pile.

The only good thing in this new life was his sister, the one true person that made it worth not dying. Ever since they moved closer to one another, seeing her was something he looked forward to. After all… She was the only family he had left. She still had her mother, but Lufroz… Not so much. 

He groaned, and moved his uninjured arm to cover his eyes.

Everything had been his father’s fault. This damned project of his, this obstination towards an unattainable goal, his dying wish for Lufroz to continue his work, to put himself in danger for a man who had neglected him for years… And all for what?

For this entire project to be wasted- no, worse. To end up in the enemy’s hands, and for the same to happen to Lufroz.

He should have never accepted to help his father. Should have never accepted to grant him this dying wish, the one that was responsible for Lufroz’s entire situation. He wished he hadn’t accepted.

But it was too late to regret. In the end, thinking about that was just hurting him more and more. He had accepted his father’s wish, had paid the price by getting hunted all over the state by mafia organizations, only to request the help of the only person able to help him.

And now, there he was.

Lufroz sighed, shutting his eyes hard. At least, his sister was blissfully unaware of all that. If she ever found out… He really didn’t want to think about it. The less she knew, the better, and the safer for her. All he wanted Lesly to do was to enjoy life. If she was okay, then… Then he would endure everything. Or, at least, he would try to.

In any case, he hoped things would go back to “normal”, now that his mistake had been paid for. Well, he hoped it was, anyway. The only thing he could do, at this point, was to wait for Morgan, and hope for the best.

[theoneandoonllyy]

I wish I could go back in time to give myself a big hug. I didn't deserve being treated so badly in many situations. I wish I could tell her everything is going to be okay and to hang on. to stay positive no matter how badly life treated her. that having a good heart works out at the end no matter what. I wish I could tell her that she's so smart and beautiful even when other people always put her down and made her feel so dumb and useless in this world. I wish I could tell her that many people look up to her for the strength she has but they won't say until many years later. I want to tell her I am so fucking proud of you for staying kind even when you should've been cruel most times. even when you got back stabbed many many times by fake friends and family members you stayed strong even tho you wanted to break down every second of every day. fuck all of them they didn't deserve you. for the past two years I forgot about how my life used to be like, and lately Ive started reminiscing about the past specifically when I was in school and how much bullying I endured from friends, strangers and relatives. I was such a sad soul....I constantly thought about committing suicide because of how much emotional abuse I would go through daily. I had really bad anxiety and depression and I actually thought that was normal, I thought that was how everyone else in world felt like. its just so crazy how life works... the guys that would bully me constantly in school, now beg me for their attention. the girls that constantly hated on me, are all pregnant with no baby daddy's and non of them are married. they all stalk my social medias too. I can't change the past so I am grateful no matter what, only God knows why he did what he did. but because of that suffering for many years I now have very high emotional intelligence. because of that I try my best to make every person I encounter have a genuine smile on there face, because you never know what people are going through.

[chargetheintruder]

Fair warning: I'm ill, tired and things look bleak.

Okay, so here's the short version of it: I'm sick, been sick for months and nobody at the local Emergency Ward wants to look where the pain actually is (colon, bladder and kidneys), they just want to rant at me when I have a panic over this mess (and never knowing what's really wrong with me) as the pain spreads and gets nasty, repeatedly.

Yeah, it gets more detailed below the break, but in general the idea is that the bastards are like "Life-Threatening shit ONLY damn it, go home and suffer there!" so I really can't use 9-1-1 on my own until I am literally near death.

No really, the closest rational explanation I've gotten from them is that I've had near-perpetual Urinary retention and urinary tract infections since I first got the first catheter in February this year, and that this comes with me passing more kidney stones now since I don't retain anything anymore. That's it . . . but their recent blood work can't find any of their typical infections. I do have a month's worth of antibiotics anyway and I've been working through them, but not much has budged.

For the past 2, going on 3 weeks, it's been intense bladder pain in the mornings (from the thing being over-active whenever I sleep, and only when I sleep), followed by constant pain in my colon and left kidney area all day into the night. Half the time I can't walk on my own until I get some pain relief in me--I use a cheap walker to get around my own apartment. I really don't have any strength or endurance left in me. Nausea and weakness are regular issues.

Using the telephone to try to get help is a problem because when I call people they're constantly demanding I SPEAK UP AND YELL AT THEM which is draining. And screw my own privacy in my apartment I guess. I don't know why my phone line is like this, particularly when I am attempting an important phone call involving sensitive info I DON'T want my evil neighbors or the evil landlords (the local Public Housing Authority) to know.

But yeah, the pain keeps getting worse, and I'm trapped in this building. I don't have a car, can't drive one anyway (no license), don't sprout the wings needed to fly across town to make it to doctor's appointments, and in general I am trapped in this building thanks to what should have been temporary nerve pain and weakness in my left leg from February. The pain in my left leg and torso gets worse, I'm more and more drained each morning . . . and I don't know how much longer I have left of life, before the infection takes me, or before I lose it from the bullshit I have to deal with from this building.

What little I do know is this: if a urinary tract infection goes on too damned long it becomes kidney disease. I could die of kidney failure and the local ER would swear up and down and sideways that "we didn't see it coming" (they didn't look for it?) and that I "never have anything life-threatening going on". Then again I could get shot by someone else's gun too, and those people would tell me "well, it's only a .22 caliber, it's small, it didn't blow your brains out, and well, it's not life-threatening, so well, we're injecting you with IV antibiotics and Voltaren, putting a bandage on it and well, sending you home in an hour, good luck!" (/Reagan, irony much) And seriously, they would.

And yes, I have tried to talk with a social worker about my issues with this building. She lasted all of 2 weeks (and one of them was the week of my birthday, and didn't count). She went on healthcare leave and won't be back until December of this year. Forcing me to start over a second time with a third new person. (the first one was a Quality Surveyor, a.k.a. an admin person who wanted to know what the hell was going on . . . at least until I told her, of course) And then there's the healthcare "provider" working alongside Medicaid in my state . . . and making damned sure I can't ever get a ride to any of my appointments. No really, do I call it in 2 days in advance, or is it 3, or is it a whole WEEK because you're that incompetent and can't even handle pronouncing "Carle" (hint: the E is SILENT, a common feature in Standard American English, whatever that is) never mind working with it in terms of scheduling rides to the place. Damned thing is a fraud, I swear. I can't be the only one who can NEVER get their transportation assistance system to work, ever.

Point is: I am severely tired. I can't even use the toilet in my own apartment because if I actually DO poop? The vile, smoking neighbor next door will go off any time, day or night, light up a cigar and smoke up all of his apartment and half of mine too. And the same guy? Dragged in a leather sofa from off the street at the beginning of this summer, and yeah, he infested all of his apartment and half of mine too with bedbugs. I told the damned landlord about this BACK IN JUNE and nobody did a damned thing. Pest Control could have been here three times already to take care of this?

They had to wait until tomorrow. Of course. They'll be here at the crack of dawn tomorrow pounding on doors and demanding access, of course. I have to deal with my bed being torn up and everything sprayed and my not having use of my apartment for half a day over this . . . probably repeatedly for the next four to five weeks, every Friday now? Yeah.

And this is with all of the health issues. My life is ruined and falling apart already. But nah, I have to fuck around with this too while I might fall over and die any time. Lovely, right? (/s) (sarcasm, not sepsis)

I am tired, I am physically ill and about to lose my mind. I'm alone in this world, surrounded by enemies (I've slowly lost my friends, half due to this building, half from the pandemic years). This is where I would tell you that I'm sorry I failed you, but in truth.

My body's failing me, and I've failed myself I guess. From not seeing into the future and somehow knowing that these neighbors would be the worst and that this building would be the worst.

[carelesstemper]

2023

Happy New Year

The year was really difficult, but I did it. I'm very proud of myself for doing so.

I had a lot to endure, and adapt to and although during the whole process it didn't feel like a lot. It wasn't until the aftermath of just trying to adjust and make my life as familiar to myself as I could I think it all just came crashing on me and all of a sudden it felt like a mountain of grief just hit me all at once. Grief for those I've lost, grief for the routine and life I was living this time last year. Grief for what I had to give up in such a short period of time. I still feel sad for all of that. but Ive been taking it one day at a time. Moving forward so I'm not trapped in my own internal suffering.

So I've taken a step back and tried to organize my thoughts, my time and energy as well. I stopped looking at all the things I want to do as a whole and trying to shove it into what I do now all at once. I've just slowly started to incorporate those changes into my life so eventually it just becomes my routine. I love having a routine. It's what I've discovered about myself in the past year.

I've also decided to listen to myself. If something feels wrong, do something about it. If I don't want to put my energy into something that I don't want to, then I won't. I want to do more of what feels good for me.

To be easier on myself too. I'm in the era of my life where mistakes are bound to happen. Sadness, anger, and happiness all come and go. Feel it, understand it, and let it go.

My goals this year is to do just that. I can't wait to see what this year brings me. I have a positive outlook on the year :)

[dystovian]

my finger: *lightly brushes against any @, link, etc.*

the link:

[lighagaph]

x

[jiminniethemarshmallow]

Thank You For Your Service IV (M)

Thank you @7stars-aligned13 for the beautiful mood board!!  Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: smut, angst, fluff Warnings: mentions of trouble conceiving, lots of time skips, squirting, face fucking, dom!Jimin, slight role play, impreg kink, dirty talk, fingering, cream pie Word Count: 24,500

Part 1~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4

You hiccup, already crying fat tears before you’ve even heard the news. You fear those words, feel the emptiness, and it hurts your soul. The straight faced doctor takes her time coming into your room, letting out a sigh once she sees your face. It’s from exasperation, but you would like to interpret it as sympathy. She stands at the foot of your bed, waiting until you calm your breathing enough to hear her.

“As I am sure you have guessed, you are not with child.” Those words break your heart for the sixth time and you break down into sobs, hiding your face in Jimin’s pillows.

Six months. It has been six long months since you were wed and you still are not pregnant. Even after all those late nights, early mornings when you’d send the servants away before your schedules began, the remedies and special foods, the slightly uncomfortable positions and pillow mountains, you still are not yet carrying your husband’s child. And it crushes you.

Yes, you know having children is not all you are good for, but it is one of your duties as a Queen. Having heirs is something that only you can do and the entire kingdom awaits expectantly for the news of an incoming prince or princess that they can idolize and adore, so you feel the pressure at all times of day— as well as guilt in regards to your barren womb. You should be fertile at this youthful time in your life. Both you and Jimin have passed every physical examination and remain in excellent health, which is why it is so perplexing to you that you are having trouble conceiving. Rosé, Queen of the kingdom just north of yours, is already pregnant and she was wed to her husband an entire month after you. Twins, you hear she’s having. You’d hate to fall behind her kingdom in any aspect, even in such a trivial competition as having children. She has nothing to do with your family, and yet, you still feel so inferior because you do not yet have one.

“To put it bluntly,” Your doctor begins, looking down at the paper she’s holding, scribbled with notes. “I believe the cause of your current condition— or lack thereof— is due to the poisoning you endured several months ago. It is possible that the potion affected your reproductive organs in some imperceptible way; your kidneys exhibited symptoms of its effects for nearly a month after your recovery, so we cannot completely rule out this possibility. But, Your Highness, the only way I would be able to test this hypothesis is through surgery to visually inspect your organs.”

You shudder at the thought of being cut open, shaking your head animatedly. Maybe you would consider this “inspection” after a year of effort and failure, but you would not take such drastic measures this early. No matter how much the constant failure hurt.

“If my infertility is due to the poison-“ You swallow thickly when your voice comes out as a mere whimper.

“Let us not be so hasty in calling it infertility, Your Majesty.” She interrupts, stare lightening just slightly. She’s learned the tiniest bit of respect since working under Jimin, his low tolerance for rudeness and spiny disposition during medical examinations slowly beginning to unnerve her cold discourse. Many a time has he reprimanded her for speaking to you informally or for her lack of sympathy, and you are finally starting to see a change, though she still interrupts you to interject.

“If my current inability to conceive is because of the poison,” You try again, “Are there any elixirs or pills I could take to lessen its effects? There must be something!”

“Because we do not know entirely if this is due to the poison, I am hesitant to give you treatment— sometimes getting pregnant is difficult for some people and there is nothing medically wrong with them. For now I can only give you advice on conception: try to lower your stress levels, eat more fruits and vegetables for vitamins, and do not over exert yourself. That is all for today, I will be back in a month for your regular check up unless I am needed sooner.” With that she turns and leaves, not waiting to be dismissed and leaving you alone in your room.

It is the middle of winter and the bone-chilling winds whip against your windows. The palace is heated by fire, but you refuse to light your fireplace, choosing to sit and suffer in the cold alone as you wallow in your gloom. Jimin has been busy all day with kingdom affairs, out and about performing duties that not even your father cared enough to get done. The people love him, love how involved he is and how much he cares, and they never hesitate to alert him to any problems they might have that Jimin could take care of. Of course he doesn’t mind, you knew he would never be able to stay inside these sheltered walls for long when he was so used to the excitement of training and battle, but you wished he would spare a little time to cater to your issues. His absence during your monthly checkups is not unusual. For the first three he held your hand and sat with you, on the fourth he left in the middle due to an urgent matter, and these last two he has been out of the castle altogether. Since your third appointment, when your hopes of being pregnant were at its highest, he seemed to have a very negative attitude toward your checkups. He told you he did not intentionally avoid these meetings, and you think that is partly true, but you know that he must hate the constant rejection and is deliberately making himself unavailable when he thinks you will be rejected again. He would much rather hear the bad news from you instead of your cold doctor.

When you asked your father to accompany you, he sort of grimaced and then politely declined. You understand, the thought of addressing the fact that your daughter has not only been deflowered, but is being repeatedly taken in the efforts of bearing fruit is sickening to you, too. Also, he is not very adept at comforting you when you break down like this, face buried in your husband’s pillows and shoulders shaking with sobs.

Telling by the ache in your skull and the completely soaked through cushion beneath your head, a long time has passed by the time you finally raise your face at the sound of Jimin shuffling into your bedroom. He shivers once the door is closed again, expecting warmth but being met with bitterness.

“It is freezing in here.” He rasps beneath his breath, ignoring you momentarily to light the fireplace, moving to shed the outer layers of his clothing once the fire is of decent size. The single glance he took at you upon entering is all he needed to know what has transpired, and he is in no rush to hear the devastating words. It’s only until he is in comfortable attire that he turns to face you, easing your head onto his chest with a curled bottom lip before he’s even settled properly on the mattress. “My love...”

Your tears flow freely onto his chest and he says nothing, sighing into your hair because by now this has become a common occurrence.

“She said it might be,” You snivel, “because of the poison.” He closes his eyes, having suspected the same thing but praying that it was not true. He wondered if the poison would have any long lasting effects on you, or on your future offspring, but dismissed the thought immediately. Although he knows nothing of what the doctor has said, he feels discouraged nonetheless. His past failure to protect you continues to circle around his head like a vulture, tormenting him to no end and making its appearance to pick at his wounds whenever he starts to move on from it. Six months feels like a long time, but it is apparent that his emotional scars need far longer to fully heal. And for that he owes to Jinwoo.

“I am s-sorry for being s-so weak.” You wipe your nose, face red and puffy from both tears and embarrassment. “Half a year ago you had not yet seen me shed tears, and now...” Almost as if the word itself had summoned them, fresh droplets fall from your eyes, looking pitifully up at the man who had stolen your heart. Only, he must have given it back to you at some point because you feel too much these days and you are tired of hurting like this. God, you probably look so ugly right now, you can feel how swollen and red your eyes and cheeks are, your self confidence plummeting to an all-time low.

“You are beautiful and strong, (Y/n), do not ever think less of yourself. You have good reason to feel the way you do, please do not think that you have to be stoic in front of me.” Like always, Jimin says exactly the right thing to ease your mind, using his hand to wipe your wet face and burrowing into the sheets with you attached to his side, his heat warming the icy sheets that drowned you when you had been alone.

You retired to bed early last night, which is why you can afford to wake up with the sun this morning. Jimin sleeps soundly behind you, but his presence is felt stiffly on your ass between the thin layers of clothing. Snow twinkles on your windowsill, probably the last snow of the season, but you find the sun beaming as brightly as ever to illuminate the room. With the weather beginning to warm in preparation for spring, you’ve grown accustomed to the gentle sound of melting snow dripping outside your window. Mornings like these are scarce and you plan to make the most of it.

You attempt to turn and face your beloved, but his arms tighten around your waist, locking you in your position. A sleepy groan tickles your ear, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver through you.

“You’re up early.” Jimin mumbles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. His voice is always so deep and raspy in the mornings, his dialect coming forth with a yawn. You could listen to him speak like that forever, but all you can think about at the moment is how good his moans would sound with the added rumble of bass that comes from sleep.

“So are you.” You snort with a sly wiggle of your hips. The twitch of his length against you sends a flash of exhilaration through your system— time has been short lately and it has been far too long since you’ve last felt him. Apparently he feels the same way, his hand effortlessly gliding up your rib cage to palm at your clothed breast with a deep sigh. You can tell his eyes are still closed due to the laziness of his movements, but it doesn’t matter when his tender touches set your body on fire like this.

His lips find their way to your neck as he shifts closer, kissing and sucking gently enough not to leave marks but to get your heart racing with need. “Take this off.” You follow his instructions and promptly shed the nightgown from your body, leaving you nude against him as he presses himself to you once again, this time slipping a hand between your legs. Your nipples harden from the brief chill of the room before you adjust the covers over your shoulder again, and Jimin takes advantage of this with two fingers, twisting the bud between them to send a spike of pleasure down your spine.

You muffle a groan once his fingers begin to tease at your lower lips, spreading them and toying with the outer skin just to build your anticipation. He wants you to drip before he’s even touched you properly, to whimper into the sheets until you can’t take it anymore and call out his name in frustration. Your clit gets pinched between his fingers when he squeezes them closed, trapping the bud as he continues to rub you up and down, and you find yourself panting in a matter of seconds. Soon, his fingers start to get coated in the essence that seeps from you. It’s so sexy that he can barely stand it. Jimin loves to feel your warm juices trickling out of you, working you up almost feels better than tending to himself, and his breathing hitches too when you begin to wiggle in his grasp.

“Look at my gorgeous Queen, getting soaking wet from just a few light touches. So cock hungry this early in the morning.” His words make you quiver and whine, the teasing quality of his voice right up against the shell of your ear driving you absolutely insane. “I’ll give you what you want if you tell me~” You hadn’t expected him to be so playful after just waking up, but it’s a pleasant surprise.

“I want you to make me cum,” You breathe out between pants. “Then I want you to pump me full of your seed. Please, My King.” Your words have their own special effect on him, evident by the lustful groan he releases into your hair and how his hips subtly shift behind you. Immediately, his fingers move to your clit to lightly graze over the hood until you buck into him, only then does he add pressure. Your back arches into his palm as he continues to play with your nipple, having turned his attention to the other in order to provide the same treatment, pulling and tweaking at it, working the nerves until they’re raw and sensitive enough to have you gasping with every flick.

Jimin doesn’t need to be able to see you in your entirety to know how you look right now. You’re completely helpless to his touch, he can feel you writhing against him and heating up the space between the sheets as your temperature rises. He can feel your heart beating hard against your chest— and he wonders if you can feel his from his position pressed against your back. It has been a while since he’s allowed himself to indulge in these fantasies. He’s pleased to know that he still has every inch of you committed to memory and is able to so easily have you at his fingertips, quite literally. These past months, your focus has been solely on procreating in the bedroom and rarely for the fun of it, so this is refreshing. But he still asks anyway.

“You want me to spill my seed into you, hm? Are you fertile right now?” His words slip past your ears as you lose yourself to the circles he draws into your bud, but somehow you manage to catch them at the last second.

“It does not matter, I want you anyway.” The answer is no, you aren’t at your most fertile at the moment, but this isn’t about that. Regardless of if anything will come of it or not, you want to feel Jimin paint your walls white with his love, something you think you’ve become addicted to. You bask in the feeling of having him throb and twitch and lose control while at the mercy of your tight walls, even when he’s pounding your weak frame into whatever surface he’s decided to take you on, and the thought has you galloping toward your peak faster than expected.

His leg slips between yours to prop them open, two of his fingers dancing their way into your clenching entrance, the intrusion pulling a loud moan from your lips. They glide and twirl within you much to your delight, but before you can enjoy it fully, they pop out and slither back up to your clit with a thick coating of your own slick. It doesn’t bother you, you could cum like this easily, but what really makes you gape is the feeling of Jimin’s hard member grinding against your ass. You can feel that his briefs are now damp with a mixture of precum and your wetness as you continue to drip down your thighs and make a mess of yourself, and you can’t help but rock your hips into his motion. You grind into each other with sensual synchronization and soon he’s panting along with you, the swollen head of his cock peeking out from his briefs to wet your cheek, teasing you endlessly.

“Jimin,” You whine, praying that he’ll let you cum quickly this morning despite his teasing mood. Every buck into his fingers shoots jolts of pleasure through you and every press against his hot cock has you throbbing at your emptiness. It’s a never-ending loop that has both of you moaning in no time, and it isn’t long before the coil in your stomach tightens to its peak. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” You whisper quietly, your breath being stolen away by the feeling of your orgasm. Your husband groans behind you, forcing his own hips to jerk to a stop as you roll against him to ride out the waves. He can feel you pulsing against his fingers and suddenly craves to feel you around his member, removing his hand from between your legs to push away his bottoms.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” He whispers with soft kisses to your shoulder as you begin to relax again. His tip glides effortlessly against your drenched lips and the fire inside you reignites instantly.

“I am always ready for you, my love.” Turning your head, you find his lips and savor the passionate kiss you share, a warmth blooming in your chest that saves you from the cold of the bedroom. Ever so slowly he pushes inside you, bringing a hand up to hold your face to his as his tongue slips between your lips. Vibrations mingle throughout your bodies as you both moan, the insertion tight as he stretches you open in the early morning light, his morning wood always so sensitive especially with your recent bout of abstinence. On the first thrust his fingers intertwine with yours, and this is the most intimate moment you’ve had with him in a long while. It feels like ages have passed since you’ve indulged each other in slow sex and you are starting to realize just how much you’ve craved it. “I missed you.” You mumble against his lips, barely wanting to pull away to look at him.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Jimin smiles, his eyes still closed but hand still caressing your face. He uses it to skim down your figure, hooking under your leg to lift it over his own and allow him deeper into your cavern, angling himself until you squeeze his hand with a shaky moan.

He honestly thinks he could stay like this forever: wrapped up in your warmth, surrounded by blankets, giving you all the love and pleasure he can provide. Things have been so hectic these last few months, an odd tension growing between you two that he can always feel but can’t quite put his finger on, but in these calm moments before the chaos of the day, he feels completely safe and at ease. Being King is no easy task, this he expected, but this is the only time he gets to shed the expectations, the pretenses, the pressure and just be your lover. Just like at the beginning of your relationship— and how things were 8 months ago, when the Crown was first placed in his hands.

You feel almost like a rag doll in his arms as he snaps his hips into you, allowing him to take you and guide you to bliss. Your hips rock back into him subtly, inner muscles squeezing around his shaft and gripping onto him, begging him to stay buried inside to occupy your lonely walls and empty womb. Pressure builds in your lower abdomen again, accompanied by a flush that takes over your body and warms you uncomfortably under the sheets. Jimin tosses the coverings aside when it gets too much, sweat slicking where your bodies connect. Your nails dig into the flesh of his ass when you reach a hand back to rest on the muscle, groaning at how you can feel every movement whenever his hips surge forward, his strength jolting you with his slow, powerful strokes. His length curves perfectly inside you, touching all your favorite spots and it becomes increasingly apparent that you won’t last long like this. He encourages you with gentle sweet nothings tickled against your ear.

“My lovely wife, always so good to me.” Jimin nuzzles his face in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer as his hand returns to your breast. “Always so soft and wet around my cock, darling. Are you getting close again, my love?” You whimper loudly and nod, not trusting your voice entirely when you’re feeling so breathless. “You sound so sweet moaning for me like that. Shall we let the entire castle know what a splendid morning we’re having together? Let them hear how well your King takes care of you.”

“Jimin~” You croon as he picks up pace, hips slapping against your backside and filling the air alongside your heavy breathing. Removing his bottom hand from yours, he props himself up on his elbow to look down over you, opening his legs wider to gain as much leverage as possible to fuck into you. The speed and power he achieves like this has you crying out into the open air, uncaring of who hears how wrecked you sound. You’re certain that the guards keeping watch at your door are uncomfortable by the display of lust, but who are they to judge when Jimin touches just the right places within you to have your body coming apart at the seams?

“Cum for me, my love,” Your husband’s voice feels distant as your thoughts float away. You are not aware enough to marvel at the sheer strength and endurance of his hips, his pace not faltering even once. Crumpling the sheets beneath you, you turn your face into the pillow as your body starts to quiver, a warm hand gripping onto your hip to keep you in place against the onslaught of pleasure. “There you go, milk me of my seed.”

Just the simple thought he plants in your mind’s eye is enough to send you into heaven, your walls clamping down around him with a scream of bliss, just as he requested. Feeling him so deeply makes your eyes roll, every stroke kissing the entrance of your womb and you pray he gives you every last drop he has. With only a few more pushes of his hips, you feel his body tense behind you and shiver, an overwhelmingly sexy groan breathed right into your ear.

It takes several moments of gentle thrusting before he’s satisfied, your body sufficiently full of his sperm and skin tingling with the aftermath of a beautiful orgasm you happily shared. Jimin kisses his way down from the side of your cheeks and neck to your shoulder and arm, ignoring the thin layer of perspiration that dries quickly in the brisk morning air. Though soft, he remains inside of you as he settles himself back against the mattress and holds your body to his, lifting the sheets to cover you before the chill returns. You feel safe. Completely and utterly safe and comfortable in your lover’s arms as you drift back to sleep.

But the peace is short lived because just as you begin to dream again, you feel Jimin pull out of you and shift away, attempting to be as stealthy as possible as he slips from bed. He winces when you turn to your other side to face him, sleepy eyes watching as he pulls on his underwear again. You are unable to return the sweet smile he offers you, already missing the way his skin felt against yours.

“Will you not stay to cuddle me?” You ask quietly, unable to understand why he must leave so soon. The smile on his face turns sad, eyes flickering to the door as several consecutive knocks sing on the wood.

“I have many duties to fulfill today, my love.”

‘And no time for me...’ You think with a poorly concealed frown, burrowing deeper into the bedspread when he opens the door for your servants, who get to work on preparing him for the day immediately. Deep down you know you likely will not interact with him until nightfall as he scrambles around the castle and kingdom serving his duties, but you try not to feel the distasteful irritation in your chest and send him off with a kiss when he makes his exit. Sometimes, though, you cannot help but think he was more eager to be with you when he was merely a soldier.

Jimin sits at a round table meeting with his advisors to discuss the affairs of the kingdom, in which there is not much to report. This is a mandatory meeting they must have weekly and they rarely last long. Most of the time, the conversations divulge into unrelated, off topic subjects just to pass the time, and Jimin has no problem with this on most days. He has a good relationship with his advisors and there is almost never any need for him to use his status as King during their discussions. Today, however, his fuse is a little short. It may be because of the all too frequent restless nights he has been experiencing, or from the lack of quality time he has spent with you, but he is far more irritable than usual. All he can think about is how disappointed you looked when he left and how much he’d rather be cuddled up back in bed with you instead of sitting in front of this counsel.  

“Do not worry, the Queen has already taken care of it.” Someone says, he does not know who said it because he is barely paying attention.

“Pardon my coarseness, Your Highness, but it is my understanding that Her Majesty has not yet conceived.” The man presents this in a questioning manner, but Jimin can hear the underlying condescension.

“You are correct.” He replies in a low voice.

“It has been 9 months since your matrimony. She should bear your heirs with haste.” The room swells with voices as his advisors begin to talk about you, each taking their turn to put in their opinions and criticism. He can hardly believe what he is hearing. They speak as though it is your fault that you are not pregnant, as if you are being defiant by not bearing him children, like it is a choice that you have made consciously. Anger bubbles in his chest, blood boiling as they continue ranting about you right in front of him as though they were not saying terrible things about his wife. He stands abruptly upon hearing someone tell a story about how his wife refused to birth him any more children because he “was acting like one” himself. Jimin interrupts just as the man is about to make a comment about stubborn wives, his voice billowing from his throat like heavy plumes of smoke that quickly engulf the room.

“How dare you speak of my wife— your Queen— in such a disrespectful manner! Do you accuse her of treachery against me? Against this nation? You have the gall to insult her efforts on something she cannot control, to doubt her intentions and loyalty to this kingdom and her own family? I should have you all removed from this castle permanently for suggesting such a thing, what do you have to say about that?!” He looks around the silent room at each of their faces, all of them looking utterly shocked by his outburst. Jimin has never needed to assert his authority over them like this, but they have gone too far today. Though he is the youngest in the room, he is easily the most intimidating when angry, regardless of if he were the King or not. Drawing in a deep breath, he tries to calm himself, running a hand through his hair as he takes his seat once more. “It is my fault anyway, not hers. It is my duty as well.”

It is quiet for a long while, the men around the table hesitate to speak again until one man builds up the courage to break the stillness.

“Do not despair, Your Highness, you are both still young, there is plenty of time to have children.” He reassures, followed by similar comforting phrases from the others. Jimin does not respond as he stares out of the window, a solemn look overtaking his face in place of the relaxed and neutral expression he normally wears. He wonders if you face this criticism regularly wherever you go, if people who are supposed to be your supporters are slowly losing hope in you. You already beat yourself up about not being pregnant, he fears what would happen if those thoughts were validated by others. Something must be done about this immediately.

It is silent for another long pause. “You are all dismissed.” He says with a flick of his hand.

*** *** ***

Your servants follow you around quite stubbornly, attempting (and failing) to be as unnoticeable as possible, but their presence is the only thing you can focus on. If you sigh too heavily they all come scurrying over, asking what was the matter, offering to take care of whatever task you had set out to complete. Yes, it was your mother’s dying wish for you to accept your loyal attendants, and it was your father’s order for them to look after you, but you cannot help but feel that this treatment is a bit excessive. It is almost laughable when you reflect on it: how just a year prior you were known largely for your independence, and now you could hardly find a moment to yourself. The only times you can get away with having minimal supervision is when you go out into town, where you may request only one or two guards or servants to accompany you.

Since becoming the official Queen of this nation, you have taken it upon yourself to care for the nuances of your society, to help individuals and keep a close relationship with the people. Jimin was focused on many of the larger issues that affected groups of citizens, like rebuilding one of the marketplaces that suffered damages in a fire last week, as well as handling international business with neighboring kingdoms. Naturally, everyone took a great liking to him and his policies and the people offered him immense support, but your job as Queen was to support the people. So, every week you go into town and buy a book from a novice writer, read it, then publish an unofficial review for the stories you enjoy. Not only does this boost the writer’s credibility, popularity, and sales, it also allows you to communicate with your people. Your presence in town never goes unnoticed, and often times people give you great recommendations on stories you should interest yourself with. It is the highlight of your week since all you can do is read in the quiet moments within the castle.

It is now early spring, trees budding with sweet smelling blossoms and the beginnings of greenery, displaying their proud potency in brilliant hues that bleach you into the gray of a dead willow. Still, your spirits are beginning to lift the farther you distance yourself from the castle. Walking through town, you breathe in all of the scents around you. Street vendors sell an array of foods that you do not see within the castle often and your mouth waters as you step up to one, picking out a pastry covered in sugar, something that you can easily pull apart with your fingers without the need of utensils. Before you can lift it to your mouth, the guard beside you stops you, plucking a small piece for himself to taste for poison. As a royal, you always thought this job was unnecessary and ridiculous before, but after the catastrophe at your wedding, you now understand it’s significance. That does not stop you from pouting, however, as you are forced to wait at least 5 minutes before the stiff guard allows you to dig into your snack.

You continue through the market, admiring crafts from artisans with masterful handiwork and struggle to keep your hand out of your purse whenever something catches your eye. This market is not the closest to the palace, in fact, it is quite far from it, but you have found that the most valuable work comes from the honest workers that live in smaller homes and lead honest lives, not from the traders and merchants who buy their goods from others and claim them as their own in the wealthy districts. The people who live on the outskirts work harder, and they are the ones you need to support the most.

“This would look beautiful hanging from the palace walls, don’t you think?” You turn toward Lilian as she browses the collection of jewelry that sits beside the tapestry you are holding, her eyes inspecting it briefly.

“I think it would look lovely in one of the sitting rooms.” She grins. Lilian always accompanies you on these types of trips. You value her opinion and reason and sympathize with her lack of outside interaction. Both of you are in the palace at almost all times and you are sure you both would go crazy if not for these couple hours outside those claustrophobic walls.

“I think so, too!” You agree, turning to the guard who continues to survey the area. “What do you think, Kyungsoo?”

He looks at it for a while, then at the others around it, finally bringing his eyes back to yours. “Whatever you desire, Your Majesty. My opinion is insignificant.” His answer causes your face to fall, rolling your eyes at him because he always says that. This is another reason why you bring Lilian along.

Sauntering into your favorite bookstore, you cheerfully greet the clerk and begin browsing for newly released books. Not long after, two women approach you, one of which you recognize to be the bookkeeper’s daughter and a new friend of yours. She always comes to talk to you about the store’s newest additions, and it gives others around her the confidence to speak to you as well. Today she is with a slightly older woman who she introduces as a rising author.

“I believe I have read one of your books before; remind me, which ones have you written?” You prompt, making the woman blush and brighten.

“Snowflower is my most popular work. It is all thanks to your review that I was finally able to get noticed in the writing community!” She beams, sparking conversation with you and Lilian about the book that the two of you enjoyed so much. It must be more than 15 minutes later that you finally decide on what to purchase, you have been listening closely to all that the ladies have to say about each author and the summaries of each story. There were multiple that piqued your interest and you could not decide so you ended up with 3 books in hand as your friend walked you to the register. One of them happens to be a story following the trials and struggles of a mother who becomes pregnant during a war. Of course you hadn’t picked this book for its theme of motherhood. It promised to be a good read— though you had overlooked it many times before today— and you certainly did not choose it because it was the closest thing to a lesson on pregnancy you could get without purchasing the entire series of “Preparing for Parenthood”, perched on a shelf that you found yourself eying the majority of your stay in the store.

Your friend talks mindlessly as she rings you up for your books, inspecting your odd selection. “So tell me, Your Majesty, are you with ch- ow!” The woman beside her pinches her arm just out of your sight, offering up a tight lipped smile when she turns to pout at her. A short flash of realization crosses her face before she returns her attention to you.

“Am I with whom?” You ask, confused.

“Are you with t-the children! Have you- have you come to see the preschoolers perform today?” She covers quickly with a nervous smile. Lilian glares at her when you are facing the other way.

“Oh! I recall hearing that they will be performing a play today, I nearly forgot!” The people around you sigh in relief at your obliviousness, resuming conversation as though nothing had happened. They give you instructions to the school and you rush there, Lilian carrying your books and Kyungsoo leading the way.

When you arrive, there are only parents and family members filling the auditorium, signifying that the play has not yet started. They chat amongst themselves in a rumble of murmurs, but the noise quiets quickly once you are noticed by a teacher that stands near the stage area.

“Her Majesty!” She gasps. “Welcome, welcome!” She practically runs to you, approaching clumsily while Kyungsoo moves to shield you with his body, stopping the woman before she can get too close. You gently move him aside to allow the woman to see and speak directly to you. “I had no idea that the Queen would be visiting today! To what do I owe you the pleasure?”

“I have come to see the children perform. It is imperative of me as Queen to support our kingdom’s youth.” You smile, noticing a weird look that crosses her face for a moment before smoothing out. Lilian has a tight smile spread across her lips just out of your peripheral.

“Of course! Well, you are just in time, the show is about to begin.” She tries to clear the front row of parents for you, but you insist that the parents of the children should get the best seats, settling for the chairs she pulls up for you at the sides of the small theater.

The moment the toddlers waddle onto stage in their costumes, your heart liquifies. They are the cutest things you have ever seen. Some of them look confused, some are pouting, but most of them are excitedly waving at their parents in the crowd, nearly tripping over each other from not looking at what’s happening in front of them. Even more heartwarming is the reactions of the parents, each and every one of them sitting up straighter and beaming with joy at the sight of their offspring, even the parents who had previously looked bored. Your attention is split between what is happening onstage and in the crowd throughout the entire play, watching the silent interactions between child and parent. You could always tell which tot belonged to which parent because of their reactions. Every child had their own lines, and whenever one stepped up to speak, the parents would lean in closer to the stage or straighten up to send a thumbs up to the wide eyes that stare back at them.

At some point, you had begun to imagine what it would be like if your own child were up there. You scan the faces of the toddlers, determining that a shy little girl bears the closest resemblance to your future baby, and you watch her the entire rest of the play. Her finger reaches into her nose several times during the performance, something your toddler would be forced to learn not to do, and she appears to be quite hesitant to say her lines. You and Jimin would act just as her parents are now, waving at her and mouthing words of encouragement when it seems like she will not speak at all, smiling proudly after she executes her parts flawlessly. Jimin would probably hold your hand as you watch her and you would be able to feel the sweat on his palms from how much he would worry for her, whispering to you how he hopes she will not cry because of how shy and quiet she tends to be. And you would whisper back that your baby is talented and will do great because she is very mature for her age, being a Princess and all.

Your eyes do not leave the girl for a minute and you are so caught up in your fantasy that you almost miss when everyone stands to clap at the end of the show. You rise slowly and offer your applause, cheeks hurting from smiling too much, but you cannot ignore the bittersweet feeling in your chest that comes when all of the children disperse and run into the arms of their waiting parents. And you are forced to remember your situation. The teacher begs you to make closing remarks and you take your place on the empty stage to address your people. Unable to focus properly, you barely know what you are saying; you thank the students and teachers for a great show, repeat a total of 4 times how adorable the children were, speak at length about how much you enjoyed everything, and once you notice that you’re rambling, you conclude quickly and move from the spotlight awkwardly. The families don’t seem to notice as they return their attention to gushing over their babies.

Just as you are about to make your exit, someone runs up to you and stops at your feet, her hair barely reaching the bottoms of your knees as she looks up at you. It is the girl you had been watching, and her arms reach up to be held once you make eye contact with her. At the approval of her parents, you lift her light body and rest her on your hip, the position comfortable and natural despite you having held a child only a few times in your life. You congratulate her and she smiles at you, turning to look at her parents as you try not to marvel at how perfectly innocent and sweet her face is.

“Your Majesty,” Her mother greets with a bow. “I was very surprised to see you here today. I had heard that you often come to these parts of town, but I would have never expected you to grace us with your presence on an occasion like this.” She is very polite, noting how the little girl has taken a liking to you already.

“I believe it is important to keep in touch with my people, and what better way is there to connect with you all than to attend a performance of my kingdom’s children?” You grin.

“I heard rumors that lately you had been feeling quite under the weather.” At this you quirk an eyebrow. She continues. “Many had assumed you were pregnant, so word spread that the King would not allow you out of the palace and that is why you had been absent for the past few weeks.” As if Jimin could tell you what to do. Yes, it is true that you had not gone outside of the palace in about 3 weeks, but that was of your own accord.

Jimin’s mother had taken a short vacation to your home upon your request after you detailed to her your troubles with conceiving in a lengthy letter, and she spent those three weeks improving your physical health with things like yoga and kegal exercises, as well as offering you very blunt and personal advice that you were almost too embarrassed to put into practice. Jimin warned you of how she was unafraid to talk about intimate topics, recalling a specific conversation she had with him in his teenage years, but you were still unprepared for the sheer amount of information she gave you during that time. You simply did not have time to go on your weekly shopping trips.

“That is... not the case.” You reply, adjusting the girl on your hip.

“Oh, then you are not pregnant?” The woman seems surprised and Lilian seems almost outraged, cutting in when you open and close your mouth with no other response.

“We have not been to this part of your town yet, are there any places you suggest we visit?” Lilian’s voice sounds through her teeth, swiftly changing the subject. You didn’t think you would have trouble talking about this, but here you stand, blinking away tears at her question. The girl’s mother seems to realize her mistake when she takes in your watery eyes that you try to hide with a fake smile. You let Lilian continue her conversation as you wander away a few steps, pretending to inspect your surroundings as you gather yourself, until a nearby newspaper catches your eye. On the cover are the words “KING’S NEW ORDERS! PROTECT THE QUEEN” and your heart jumps at the suddenness. You bend carefully to turn the page and read the article, a mix of emotions rushing through your body that almost makes you lose grip on the child in your arms when you understand their significance. You quickly return her to her parents, excusing yourself from them on the pretense that you had to be back at the palace for important business, and you instruct Kyungsoo to guide you back to the carriage to head home.

Upon entering your bedroom, Jimin finds a note on the bed in your writing, reading it with curiosity. It leads him to a familiar place and he hurries there with mild concern, mind rushing with thoughts of what your note could have meant.

Curled up in your favorite chair, he finds you reclining with a new book in hand as you look through the window of your Secret Library. Your servants know nothing of this place, you and Jimin have made certain that it’s location remains hidden, so this is the only place you can truly be alone. To his knowledge, you only come here when something is troubling you or when you need to think, and his mind jumps to all of the worst case scenarios of what could have happened.

“My love, you wished to speak with me?” He asks, approaching urgently as according to your urgent letter. But you remain relaxed and unresponsive as you continue to flip through the pages of your novel. He looks down to inspect your choice reading, taking note that it speaks of a woman who, in this current scene, is just learning that she is pregnant. You take your time reading it, only turning to him after the chapter is finished. When you turn to him your eyes are blank and unreadable.

“Why have you placed a censorship on our people, My King?” You ask suddenly, and it takes him aback.

“A c-censorship?” He stutters out.

“Yes, you recently placed a censorship on the people of this kingdom, have you not?” You look him in the eyes and find that he can barely hold eye contact, his entire body tense. It is difficult for him to respond, especially since you were not supposed to know about this, at least not this soon.

“It is not a censorship.” He evades.

“Really? So you have not ordered our people to be silent about anything pertaining to pregnancy and children around me?” He fidgets under your piercing tongue, unsure of how to respond. “That sounds quite close to censorship to me.”

“It is only to protect you, My Queen,” He relents, stepping closer to you as you snap your book closed. “People can be very insensitive and I did not want you to be hurt by their words.”

“Hurt by their words? What words would they have said to me? I am not a child, Jimin, you need not protect me from words!” Your volume rises along with the redness of your face. “Are the people criticizing me in some way? What have they said? What have you heard to make you so wary of words?”

“Their words hurt me, (Y/n).” He says quietly as he lowers himself to his knees and takes hold of your hands when he sees the worry in your eyes. “What I heard hurt me, and I could not bear the thought that you may hear such things too. I did not do this because I think you are not strong enough to endure it, I did it because you do not deserve to hear such negativity.”

“Even so, how dare you make such a rash decision without consulting me.” You remove your hands from his and he does not reach for them again. “You saw me directly after your council meeting last week and mentioned not a word of this to me. If you had asked, I would have told you that none of this is necessary, that I can handle whatever my people have to say about me because I am the Queen!” Your voice cracks annoyingly as you fight back hot tears. “I should be able to answer them when they ask me questions. And maybe I should hear what they say about me. Because they are correct, I am not pregnant and I do not know if I can ever become pregnant and maybe they should be worried. My sensitivity should not warrant their silence.”

“You are not sensitive, my love, you have every right to feel the way that you do.” You ignore him.

“But what troubles me the most is how you so easily excluded me. You acted without my consent and planned to keep this from me indefinitely— you even made sure Lilian was the first to know so that she could keep watch over me today! What happened to our communication, Jimin? We should be able to talk to each other about anything and everything, but instead you felt the need to keep something so important a secret from me. You could have simply talked to me and told me how you feel. It feels as though we have not spoken in days, it is almost like you aren’t trying anymore. It feels like you have given up.”

The fire in your tone dies down until all that is left is pain, and Jimin realizes that it is he who has hurt you the most.

Lilian told him about where you went today and how you acted. She told him of the lost and pained look in your eyes as you watched the children, even though you were smiling. Most importantly, she relayed your exact reaction when that woman asked if you were pregnant. It was just as he had feared. Putting these pieces of information together with the book you had been reading, Jimin knows that this argument is about more than what you’d like him to believe.

“This is no longer about the censorship, is it?” He asks cautiously, guilt leaking onto his features. You appear shocked at first, not having realized your own subliminal shift from the topic, but then your face twists with emotion and you bite your lip and turn your head from him in an effort to hold yourself together. You are tired of crying in front of him.

“You-“ Sniffling, you try to control the shakiness of your voice. “You do not talk to me anymore. I never know how you are feeling these days because you have been avoiding me.”

“I do not try to avoid you, my love.” He frowns, moving his hand to rest on your knee.

“It feels like you are. You do not come to my health examinations anymore, you can never seem to make time for them.” He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t let him. “I am always forced to go through them alone and I sit there the entire time wishing that you were there to hold me or reassure me, but I’m always alone. And it may be easier for you to hear the bad news from my mouth, but it hurts me more every time I am forced to tell you that I have failed once again. And we haven’t tried in a long while, I am beginning to fear that you no longer want to touch me.” Your eyes convey a deeper pain than your words can communicate, and the earnestness in them when you look at him breaks his heart. He didn’t mean to make you feel this way, it‘s the last thing he would want.

“I still very much want you, My Queen, I always will. I have been hesitant to initiate anything with you as of late because you seemed so disheartened and dejected and I did not want to further upset you with inappropriate timing. I have also been struggling to keep my optimism, forgive me for my misjudgment.”

“That is another problem,” You sigh, knitting your eyebrows. “I have no idea what you are thinking or feeling. You always comfort me and tell me that I can be open with my emotions with you, yet you do not listen to your own advice and tend to lock up around me. It will not lessen my sadness, but to know that you are just as affected by this as I am and that I am not overreacting would give me the tiniest bit of comfort. But when you force yourself to appear unaffected, it feels as though I am the only one who cares.”

“But I am the King,” Jimin starts, conflicted. “I cannot afford to show weakness or lament in our misfortunes. I must be strong for the people.”

“Strength is not the only trait of value!” You hiss, irritated that he has this perception that is so inaccurate. “Emotion does not always entail vulnerability and the people will see that. They adore how much you care about them, how you grieve with them when you learn of their losses, so why would it be inappropriate for you to care about me? Do not forget that you are also my husband. That is what you signed up for on our wedding day; you married me and the kingdom followed. Why is it that I am never your priority?!”

Sadness transforming into boiling rage, you stand and push past him toward the exit. This is your first real argument with him and it seems that everything that has been bothering you for the past few months is now exploding out of your mouth. You did not mean for your words to be so harsh, yet you could not control them and figured that you should let everything out while you had the chance. Much of your frustration is about your own incompetence, but you redirect it toward him because you cannot handle anymore mental self-abuse. A tiny part of you wants him to yell back at you and affirm everything you already thought about the direction of your relationship just so you could be right about something for once. Most of you, however, wants him to run after you, take you into his arms, look you in the eye and dispel all of your worries by pouring out his heart to you.

And that is exactly what he does.

“My love, do not run away.” He says gently, grabbing your hand before you can even make it 3 steps past him. He moves to the front of you, taking your face in his palms so he can stare into your eyes, hoping they can fill in the blanks between his words. “You are always my priority and you always will be. I-“ He sighs, looking away for a second before returning to you. “I do not always make the best choices, and for that I apologize. Being your husband and a King is far different than being a military general, and it is taking longer to adjust than I anticipated. I love you so much, to the point where I am afraid of making mistakes and losing your heart somehow, so I try too hard to be perfect. I take care of your kingdom because it was yours before it was mine and I know how dearly you hold it’s people. I try to be as tough as possible for you because I thought you would expect it of me when you were feeling weak.” His hands fall to your shoulders. “As a General, I learned that the only way to gain respect and love was to work hard and solve all issues, but it appears that I will need a different mindset in this situation. Because it seems I have become too consumed with work and too busy to show my love for you, and I know I will need to change that if I want to be a good father to our children.”

“You do not need to change at all, Jimin. Who you are trying so hard to be is not the same man you were when I met you. Yes, you were strong in front of others, but you never closed yourself to me. I do not want you to change or pretend to be tough, I want you to be you, because that is who I married.” This causes him to think back to how he has behaved in recent months. Maybe he was avoiding your appointments purposely so he wouldn’t have the chance to break down in front of the doctor or Lilian. And maybe he had been ignoring you so he wouldn’t have to face his own pain that you reflected. He’s been treating you unfairly in an effort to play a role that doesn’t exist, and he welcomes the guilt that slaps him in the face at the realization. He hates that he ended up like this even after all that you went through in the aftermath of your wedding. It is like he had forgotten all that he promised you.

“I apologize for everything, My Queen. I will remove the censorship immediately.” His head bows with heaviness. “I do still want a family with you, but maybe we should take a break from trying, just for a little while. Maybe this building friction between us and the stress it caused has been affecting our fertility. Maybe we are trying too hard and should take your advice to just be ourselves. A baby should be made from love, not by expectation. I do not want-“ He thinks about his next sentence carefully. “I want to improve our relationship first, before our attention is shifted to other matters. We are young and have not yet been married a year, my love, we will have plenty of time to conceive. Let me make up for the neglect you have suffered these past months. Let us take it one day at a time.”

He’s right, your relationship has been strained, and it is not only from the fact that you are not pregnant. The discord between you two has taken a toll on your body: you are constantly exhausted, your head pounds with headaches most days, and the loneliness has changed your positive attitude into one of sulking and disdain. It has changed you. So how could you think of bringing a child into this world when you are at this level of dysfunction? Things needed to be resolved first, and here he is, willing to work everything out with you after accepting his faults. You couldn’t possibly reject him.

It’s been nearly a month since your argument, and things have taken a turn for the better. You helped Jimin realize something he didn’t quite understand before: that as King, anything he says goes, so he has been taking frequent days off to spend time with you. He’s taken you on many dates around the kingdom, showing you his favorite places to go when he was a child, exploring different towns you hadn’t gotten a chance to see yet, he even accompanied you on your shopping day to meet some of the friends you’d made. Being able to spend time with him like this reminds you of what it felt like in the beginning of your relationship. The novelty of seeing him and the excitement you’d feel in the pit of your stomach. Except this excitement is now from your curiosity of what activities you’ll do with him that day and not from the thrill of possibly being caught together by servants.

You’ve kept things fairly innocent these past few weeks, focusing on rebuilding your emotional connection instead of being physical. You’d lost a lot of weight during the months you were at odds with Jimin, but you’re happy to say that you’re gaining it back now that you’re paying more attention to your health and happiness and not the crazy diets and detoxes that people recommended to you to help with conception. What’s more, you’ve been keeping busy by accompanying Jimin on his political duties instead of remaining put away in the palace. He didn’t want to involve you in political affairs to keep your stress levels low, but you remind him that you’ve been involved in things like that since you where a young princess, so this is the norm. So now you happily travel with him out of the kingdom to attend meetings with neighboring rulers and assure them of your health.

This is the first trip you’ve taken, and it feels absolutely liberating. Seokjin insisted that you and your husband stay in his family’s vacation home located in the area— one of many acquired throughout his travels as a collector and salesman— and it is arguably nicer than the one offered by the royals of this kingdom. Perhaps not as luxurious (though very close to it) but certainly more private. You’d take any opportunity to escape any hovering servants. Your eyes sparkle as you walk through the doors, taking in the modern furniture, high ceilings, and breathtaking view of the green valley and hills surrounding you. The altitude is quite a bit higher than you’re used to, the kingdom poised along a mountainside and sourcing its water from the river that flows through the valley below.

You blame this altitude for the sick feeling in your stomach and the lightness of your head, trying your hardest to keep your etiquette and not plop face first onto the huge mattress. You sit gingerly on the edge, aided by Jimin, who kept hold of your arm ever since he saw you swaying when you stepped out of the carriage. He fusses over you, letting out a disgruntled grumble when you remind him that you saw the doctor before your departure and she found no troubling conditions within you— not even pregnancy, which you were disappointed to hear, but not surprised. The symptoms come and go and you assure him that all you need is some rest and you’ll be back on your feet, and he leaves you under the watch of Lilian and Kyungsoo (who accompany you everywhere) while he travels to the castle to greet the King and assure him of your safe arrival. You nap while he’s away and awake just in time for dinner, feeling refreshed and symptom free, much to his relief.

Being away from the palace and kingdom is sure to do wonders for your physical and mental health. Just being here with the people you love is a breath of fresh air, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face. Seated at the table accompanied by Jimin, Lilian, and Kyungsoo, you feel this is the closest thing you’ll have to a family dinner for a long while. As your servant, Lilian never eats with you at the same time, let alone at the same table, but you begged her to join you and fill the evening air with casual chatter. Kyungsoo is your favorite guard and you’ve always wanted to get to know him, but he remains relatively quiet throughout the meal and never lets his guard down, taking the farthest seat from his monarchs to silently observe. Typical. With your energy levels still quite low, Jimin and Lilian do their best to raise your spirits by showing off their goofy sides, telling stories and making you laugh almost nonstop. But just seeing them bond so well is enough to make your heart swell. You wonder if Jimin will have this type of relationship with your children, one where they can joke freely and build trust with each other without being hindered by the forced power dynamic. You hope their relationship will be better than the somewhat estranged one you have with your father.

“Are you comfortable, my love?” Jimin asks as you settle in for bed. This mattress seems to be made from the clouds of the heavens, you’ve never felt relaxation like this. You’ll have to purchase one for your own bedroom.

“Yes, My King.” You return, grinning at the way his cheeks lift. He climbs in behind you after blowing out the lanterns, the scent of smoke wafting gently through the room.

“How are you feeling? Better?” He sounds tired and you have no desire to keep him awake with your troubles, so you nod.

“Yes, after my nap and dinner, I feel just fine.” You don’t mention your growing headache because you’re certain a good night’s sleep will resolve it. You’re feeling uncharacteristically tired, exhausted even, and it’s most likely from the long journey here. Hopefully, you’ll wake up refreshed and energized in the morning.

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything tonight.” He whispers, already starting to drift off.

“I won’t trouble you.” You assure him, sinking into slumber.

“Are you sure you are well enough to go out today?” Lilian sifts through your clothing, trying to decide what to dress you in for today’s events, accounting for the warm mid-spring weather. She is alone in the bedroom with you, Jimin having stepped out to give you privacy while getting ready.

“Yes, I am feeling much better.” This isn’t a lie. Although you felt extremely sluggish upon first waking up, you now feel great. Jimin had asked you about a thousand questions before leaving bed this morning and at breakfast, and you dispelled each one of his worries with confidence.

“I am glad to hear that, but please do pay attention to your condition, Your Highness.” She says this as she holds up a pristine gown for your approval, handing it to you when you nod both at her words and fashion choice.

She doesn’t need to vocalize what’s on her mind, you know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you’ve been having the same thoughts. But your doctor was very clear that you are not pregnant when you saw her before the trip. Also, you bleed 2 weeks ago, and though it was short-lived, it was accompanied by cramps and headaches, dutifully reminding you of your empty womb. So you ignore Lilian’s concerns and move about your day like normal, smothering the tiny bud of hope that tries to bloom in your chest.

“Are you excited for today’s meeting?” Moving away from the topic, she smiles at you through the mirror at the way your face lights up, beginning her work on your hair.

“This is the most excited I have felt in a long while! It will be my first diplomatic duty as Queen.” Finally, you feel useful.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” What she means is ‘would you like me to keep an eye on you to make sure you are feeling okay/ nothing bad happens’ but you pretend not to notice.

“No, Lilian, I want you to treat this as a vacation of sorts. You work so hard my humble, loyal friend. Go and explore the towns, have fun while we’re away from the kingdom.”

“I do not want a vacation, I want to make sure you are alright.” She responds quietly, blushing. You hum.

“Respectfully, I do not need to be looked after like a child.” You chuckle. “I can do well on my own. Besides, Jimin and Kyungsoo will be there if anything happens.”

“Then I will take my leave tomorrow after I make sure you are alright today.” She says stubbornly, not meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I cannot relax in good conscience without being assured of your safety.” Nodding, you accept her terms with a smirk.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Queen (Y/n).” King Jackson smiles at you, bowing his head in greeting. You grin widely as you sit across from him and his wife at the large conference table, Jimin placed closely at your side.

“You as well, Jackson.” Last you saw him, he was a prince. In fact, he submitted the first marriage proposal you’d ever received, asking your father for your hand in marriage as soon as he heard you were of age. He is a little less than 4 years older than you, handsome, bubbly personality, likable and charming on all fronts, and you had no qualms with marrying him, but you also had no desire to leave your kingdom to rule another. As King, he would have you move into his castle and be at his service where you would likely not hold any power or say in most matters involving the people, something that deeply displeased you, so you turned him down. Now he has a wife and several small children, as well as the throne and an entire kingdom to lead. And as of your coronation, he is your kingdom’s closest ally.

“No need to be so formal, Queen.” He jokes, immediately setting a relaxed atmosphere. You are meeting to discuss and update the terms of a treaty between your allied nations, one that your fathers had written and agreed upon many years ago, but legally needs to be reviewed thanks to the recent shift in power. Your father is quite close with Jackson’s own, therefore you have a good relationship with the young King from years of getting acquainted during your childhood. Jimin, however, has no such history with the man and seems rather tense around the lighthearted playful. “I was disappointed when you refused by marriage proposal, but it seems that you have chosen a handsome and competent spouse in my place, just as I have.” He grins, winking at his wife, Lena.

“It was never ‘your place’, do not be so big headed,” You roll your eyes but he ignores your quip, eyes trained on Jimin.

“We spoke yesterday evening, but I am intrigued to get to know more of you, King Park. May I call you Jimin?” Jackson barely waits for a reply before continuing. “I must know more of the man whom I am to be allied with, and the man who married the ever-so-independent princess.”

“I must admit, I am curious about you, too. But if my beloved trusts and acknowledges you, then I will do the same.” Reaching under the table, Jimin’s hand finds yours and you smirk, pleased that he won’t let the other King intimidate him.

“Regarding the treaty;” Jackson pulls out a long document, skimming over the lengthy script that you are both irritatingly familiar with. “Will our kingdom’s continue to remain allied during times of war, help financially and provide resources in times of natural disaster, respect the borders set by each nation without the intention of gaining territory, and continue to keep trade borders open?” He reads off the major points of the list, you and Jimin answering with a ‘yes’ to each. “Is there anything else you would like to add?”

“Not that I can think of.” You respond, Jimin saying the same. Feeling satisfied by your responses, Jackson signs his name under the print of your fathers, passing the document to you for your signature. But you slide the paper to your husband, whose name appears in ink now instead of yours. Surprised by this, you can see the unfiltered comment bubbling out from the brazen King’s dome.

“I would not have expected, (Y/n), that you would submit the powers of your status to a man.” It is obvious that he has already assumed that your action means that you no longer hold the highest authority in your own land, but you are both quick to correct him.

“You are mistaken.” Your voices harmonize into one as you say this, Jimin continuing on to explain. “My Queen has not yielded even an inch of power to me. As I am sure you know, she is fully capable of handling affairs such as these, any responsibility she has shifted to me has been due to her own discretion.” Though his tongue is quick, Jimin is sure to keep a light, non-malicious tone so as not to offend your friend. You’d much rather focus on internal public affairs, leaving international and business related issues to your husband. But it seems others have the wrong idea about you.

The man across from you blinks at this, raising his eyebrows, and you know Jimin has just gained a large amount of respect in his eyes. You find it quite flattering to see him so defensive of you and you give an approving squeeze of his hand.

“As expected,” Jackson hums with a grin, receiving the document as Jimin passes it back to him. “Well, it seems that our business here is complete! Shall we have champagne to celebrate this swift agreement?” He doesn’t realize his error until his wife nudges him in the ribs and he looks up to see your faces pulled into wide-eyed frowns. “Ah, yes— my apologies,” He scratches his neck bashfully. “Then, may I interest you in some exercise?” Eyes boring straight into Jimin’s, he asks this as the men share a look.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Lena beams, nearly bouncing in her seat as you both observe from a bench on the side of the field. Somehow you hadn’t expected this when Jackson offered his proposal. Your husbands are standing in a marked area with protective gear covering their bodies and gleaming swords, preparing for a sparring match in the warm weather. The sun beats down on you as you squint at them, using your hand to shade your eyes before Lilian appears with a parasol to place over your head. “Have you ever seen your husband fight before?” She asks, staring at your side profile.

“Never.” You respond. “This should be interesting.” Admittedly, you tend to shy away from violence, resenting the thought of people battling each other for bloody glory. Though you are in charge of the military, you never ask for too many details, and skillfully avoid any training grounds near the castle. It may be ironic, then, that you married a General who has seen more battles than he’s cared to mention and carries more scars than he’d care to explain. But you must admit that you’re intrigued by the spectacle he’s sure to put on for you, comforted by the fact that this is completely safe.

“Jackson has been training sword for most of his life, but has never seen an actual battle. I wonder how their skills will compare.” Lena states proudly, sipping from the drink one of her servants comes to offer, dismissed when you decline.

“I hear that you were a General, King Park.” Jackson checks the cap at the tip of his sword, nodding to the instructor that stands at his side.

“I’d like to think that I still am one.” Jimin responds as he stretches out his stiff muscles.

“Even after being promoted to Commander in Chief?”

“I’ve done nothing to earn that title but get married.” The man before him hums.

“I assume you are quite skilled with a sword then, have you practiced fencing before?”

“Of course, it is taught as the basics of sword fighting. Though, I would not say I am a master.” Humbly, your husband lowers his head to inspect his blade, shaking his head at Jackson’s outcry.

“Nonsense! Any man who has done battle for his life is surely a master. Though, I do ask that you do not hold back on me here; I certainly will not do the same for you.” A wolfish grin creeps up onto both Kings faces, mirroring each other as they pull down the hoods of their face guards.

“You’ve said nothing of your own skill thus far, I will not make the mistake of underestimating you.” The match starts swiftly after they take position, Jackson lunging forward and barely missing Jimin’s side as he dodges out of the way.

Your mouth falls open as they move, each motion calculated and precise. You know nothing about fencing, but it is clear that they are both highly skilled. You’ve never seen your lover move this way before, so dynamic and captivating as though he were performing a dance. Powerful and graceful in every step taken toward his opponent, wielding his blade as though it were an extension of himself. He is beautiful to watch, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest as you are enraptured by the display. Both King’s are even in size and capability, but you can see the ease of movement Jimin possesses compared to Jackson’s deliberate strokes, almost as if he were teasing him. Lena cheers from beside you, but you can’t make a sound. Seeing him like this— completely in his element and moving so gracefully— has your body heating for another reason unrelated to the unrelenting sun. You’ve married an amazing man.

“You’re quick.”

“That is a great compliment, coming from you,” Jackson grunts, keeping Jimin on the defensive with his bold attacks. “But I can tell you are merely playing with me.”

“Not playing.” Waiting. One thing Jimin is an expert at is waiting. Patience is his strength, in fighting and in his daily life. He was patient when it came to you, taking his time with each step of your relationship until he was entirely sure that you were ready, that you wanted him. He was patient with each of his military promotions, climbing up the ranks with hard work and diligence until he was recognized. And he will continue to be patient with the next stage of his life, trying his best not to lose hope that you will become pregnant one day, so he will deal with the disappointment and trials with you for as long as it takes.

As soon as Jackson falters he takes his shot, attacking with swift consecutive swings until his opponent is pushed far back on his side of the space and leaves an opening, one decisive lunge ending the match. They both pant as Jimin’s sword makes contact with the center of the other King’s chest, the cap pressed into the padding protecting his flesh. There’s silence for a beat before they both drop their guard, retuning to the start position. Jimin turns his head to make sure you were watching, lifting his mask to wink at you and smirking salaciously when you blush.  

“Well done.” Jackson nods. “But I won’t let you get the better of me next time!”

“Your husband is a bit intense, no?” You ask Lena as she giggles, humming in agreement.

“And it seems your husband is a bit competitive.” You also nod, the heat drying your mouth as you watch her sip her drink again. She calls over her servant when she catches your stare and they hand you a glass— Kyungsoo swooping in annoyingly to try it first before you can taste the sweet liquid. “He seems very fit and possesses a beautiful physique, I’m astounded that you have the willpower to leave bed with a man like that, especially as newlyweds.”

You choke on your drink mid-swallow, nearly spitting it out because of her words. Jackson has a notoriously dirty mind, it is no surprise to you that his wife shares that quality— she’d have to, in order to tolerate him. She laughs as Lilian takes the drink from you as you wipe your mouth, turning the comment back on her.

“I could say the same to you, Jackson is just as built.”

“Oh, trust that he kept me in bed for months after our wedding date. It is no coincidence that I have this many children now.” Her eyes shift back to the men on the field, seemingly satisfied with the rosiness of your cheeks. Recovering, you address her once more.

“Speaking of, may I meet them?”

“I’ve known (Y/n) for most of my life,” Jackson speaks up during their final round. “Though I submitted a proposal, she’s grown to be like a sister to me over the years.”

“Is that so?” Jimin grunts, their swords clashing loudly.

“I was skeptical of what kind of man she had chosen when word spread of your betrothal. Wondered if you would be able to protect her as she tends to venture out and do things on her own; sometimes-” He jumps back as Jimin closes in. “-befriending the wrong people. I worried when I heard of the catastrophe at your wedding ceremony.” The cap of Jimin’s sword touches to his opponent’s chest once again, ending the sparring match. They both remove their helmets and masks, breathing heavily as they look at each other. “I truly empathize with what you were forced to experience. I could not imagine being in that situation with my wife.” Both men turn to look at you and Lena, their 4 children surrounding you as you hold the youngest in your lap. It is a sight that simultaneously melts and breaks your husband’s heart. “Nonetheless, after meeting you, I am confident that she is in good hands. I like you a lot, Jimin, and though my approval may mean nothing, I think you are an excellent match for her.”

You look up to see them shaking hands, both of them walking over to you with content looks on their faces. The child in your lap looks up as his father approaches, making grabby hands at your friend until he reaches down and lifts him from you. You watch with starry eyes as Jackson props the child up on his hip, kissing over his chubby cheeks and forehead, but then your attention is pulled away when Jimin stops to stand in front of you.

“Did you win?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, My Queen,” He bows dutifully, running a hand through his sweaty hair. It should be offensive how sexy he looks right now, standing in the sun with his wet hair, skin shining with hard work and eyes landing lazily on your figure with a lazy smirk. Your heart jumps and you have to look away before your mind slips even further away. “Do I get a victory kiss?” He bends down toward you, puckering his lips, and you push lightly at his chest with a laugh.

“But you’re all sweaty!” Your nose wrinkles at him but your eyes still lock onto his lips, even as you continue to swat at him.

“No kiss for your King?” Jackson quips, turning to his own wife who is already shaking her head in disgust. “Lena~ Don’t I get a reassurance kiss after my defeat?” The same look Jimin has on his face is contagious to the other King, who grins at Lena as she shields her face with another one of their giggling children, peeking out from over her shoulder. Both men approach with puckered lips, causing their Queens to squeal at their playfulness— you even hop up from the bench to avoid him, taunting him as Jimin chases you around the field. It’s rather immature, but you feel no need to pretend here or uphold appearances in front of your hosts. Lilian and Kyungsoo look on fondly, never having seen you so carefree.

“You never minded my sweat before, my love.” Jimin whispers to you when you finally allow him to give you a peck on the lips, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. You don’t respond, rolling your eyes at him with a barely hidden smile.

“You seem to be getting along nicely with Jackson.” You comment as you rummage through your luggage, searching for one specific item. Jimin replies from behind the partition of the bathroom, bathing away the grime of the day in preparation for the night. You had both sent Lilian away when she offered to help and she took off to explore the nighttime activities of the kingdom, one of Jackson’s male servants offering to be her guide. You’ll be sure to ask her for details in the morning.

“Yes, he is quite an interesting character. He gave me his official approval to marry you, which I suppose I am grateful for.” Hearing the smile in his voice, you giggle, silencing the gasp that leaves your chest when you pull out the delicate lace garments, your heart rate speeding up. You aren’t sure why you feel so anxious about this. It’s not like you to get nervous about being intimate with Jimin, but you’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while since you last had him, the recent abstinence keeping your body on edge. Or maybe you are worried about what he will say when he sees you. Embarrassment colors your face as you quickly slip on the set, covering yourself with a robe when you are finished.

“He gave you his blessing to marry me?” You chuckle.

Stepping onto the tile of the partitioned washroom, you stand before the full length mirror to inspect yourself before tying it closed. The robe covers you from Jimin’s viewpoint behind you as he finishes washing up, and you try to appear productive as you move to moisturize yourself. When he is finished, your husband approaches from behind, a towel hung low on his waist as he comes to wrap his arms around your midsection. You can feel his sturdy body pressing into you as he pulls you closer, his eyes staring into yours through the glass when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“His ego hasn’t shrunk an inch since I last saw him.” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut as the two of you sway gently together.

“Well, he is a King.” Jimin reasons in a whisper.

“But so are you.” His arms loosen around you when he feels you start to turn, both of your eyes open now as you peer up at him with glittering eyes, gingerly locking your fingers behind his neck. Your heart kicks up as you watch the easy grin on his lips, the absolute and unwavering adoration he holds for you so evident in his gaze. It reminds you of earlier times, his expression the exact same as when he first confessed that he was in love with you and you reciprocated, kissing him so certainly. Now, you kiss him with practiced ease and press ever closer into his warm body. Jimin’s tongue dances with yours, both of you getting lost in the moment until you are forced to pull away for air. “You were amazing today, General Park.”

The use of his former title makes his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It isn’t like he doesn’t like the name, it is simply that he never expected to hear it come from you again.

“I did not realize that you were so agile and powerful, I was very impressed with what I saw.” One of your fingers trails down his chest, playing in the dip of his v-line before coyly tracing back upwards with each slow word you speak. “That is not to say that I was unaware of your capabilities, you have found great success in protecting me and my kingdom, but watching you was eye opening... and quite arousing.” His breath hitches in a way that gives you more confidence, courage swelling in your chest that helps you ignore the redness of your cheeks.

“Is that so?” Jimin swallows, curiosity lighting his gaze.

You hum in affirmation. “You must work extremely hard to become that skilled, so I thought it appropriate to give you a gift to show my appreciation for all that you do.” Taking a step back, you play with the ribbon of your robe, amused by the sudden change in Jimin’s expression. He watches you like a predator stalking it’s pray, detailing every movement of your nimble fingers with a heaving chest as you move at a snail’s pace to untie your robe. You decide to tease further once the ribbon is finally untied, only revealing the tops of your shoulders from the silk, holding yourself in modesty until it looks like he’s going to go insane before you open the from to reveal yourself.

Jimin feels like he could faint from what he sees when the robe drops. You are decorated in a lacy white lingerie set that is quite transparent, your nipples visible through the designs of the fabric. The bra of the set extends downwards under your cleavage and he feels his hands lifting to rest on your ribs to touch the material, following it delicately until he cups your breasts with his palms. Maybe it is due to the design of this expensive undergarment, but you fill out the bra much more than either of you would have expected, your breasts round and pushing at it in all the right spots. This is the lingerie set that Jin had hidden behind your commissioned painting as part of your wedding gift, and Jimin had completely forgotten that it was in your possession. He chooses not to question how Seokjin knows your body measurements in order to purchase the present. Eyes trailing down, Jimin takes in the equally scandalous panties that adorn your hips, all parts solid white except for the crotch that remains lacy and see-through giving him a view that makes his mouth water.

You look absolutely stunning, and he tells you in as many words as possible.

“Your gift is not yet complete, General.” The look on his face is everything that you had hoped for, and you wish to shock him even further with your next move. Hooking your fingers into the towel at his waist, you unravel it and expose his growing length, sinking down in front of him.

Quickly, he grabs your arm once he realizes what you are doing, preventing you from going lower. You pout up at him. “My Queen, a woman of your status should never kneel on the ground for any man. You must remain dignified.”

“My dignity,” You half scoff at the notion, rising to look him in his beautiful brown eyes. “I have neither dignity nor pride. You have it all, my love; I have given myself to you completely.” You allow yourself to break from your role play just this once, he needs to know that your words are true. If there is anything he should know by now, it is that you hold no reservations toward him. With him, you are equal and you trust him completely. It is not like you have never serviced him before, but he has never seen you on your knees below him due to his own beliefs and you would like to change that tonight. “I want to do this for you.”

This time when you lower yourself, he allows you to drop until your knees rest on the ground. The view he has is undeniably sinful. You can tell how much he enjoys it by how rapidly he hardens in front of your face. But when you look up from your own spot on the floor, you find that your view is equally as jaw dropping. Jimin looks down at you from over his nose, the damp hair on his head sticking to his forehead and dangling over his eyes, shadowing his features into sharp lines. Every inch of his body is chiseled to perfection, displaying the hours of training he has undergone over the years to get to the level of skill you witnessed today, and if it were not for you already kneeling on the marble, your knees would have buckled right from under you. He is like a statue carved by the gods. And he is all yours.

“If a Queen wants her soldiers to keep performing for her she must reward them, and you are the very best, so I will be sure to give you special treatment.” Lightly grasping his member, you take the time to feel how he grows in your grip. Just the feeling of you running your fingers over his plush balls has him almost fully erect, the muscles of his abdominals tensing as you lean forward to slide him into your mouth, caressing the underside of his cock with your tongue without closing your lips just yet. You’ll work him up slowly, you decide, wanting him to savor this rare occasion in hopes that he will allow you to do it again sometime. Your palm smears your saliva around his shaft and starts to steadily pump him up and down, the simple action causing a groan to tear from your lover’s throat.

Jimin does not know where to look in this moment. Should he focus on your hands as the diligently work to pleasure him? Your tongue when it peeks out from your lips to tease at his slit? The dip of your cleavage that lie in his direct line of sight, framed so perfectly by the underwear you don? Or perhaps those smoldering eyes you stare up at him with, those plotting, gorgeous eyes that call to his deepest desires? You look as if you would do anything for him at this moment— you have intentionally put yourself at his feet to show how vulnerable you are willing to be with him, that you trust him to the utmost degree and you would sink this low, literally, to demonstrate that.

“Shit,” Jimin curses, eyes trained on the way your lips wrap around his reddening tip. You sense his hands fidgeting at his sides, so you take them to place on top of your head, nodding encouragingly until he weaves his fingers into your hair. He throbs in your mouth and you fight back a smirk.

Working meticulously, you take the time to circle your tongue around every sensitive place at his cockhead, licking slowly over his frenulum and flicking over his slit as it starts to leak. The flavor is slightly salty and entirely him, and it makes your legs press together from where your knees dig into the polished marble. Your lips and tongue play at his upper half for a while, one of your hands rubbing whimsical patterns along his tensing thigh while the other tends to his aching base, pumping in time with your mouth with a slight twist to your wrist that has his fingers tightening against your scalp.

“Are you enjoying your gift?” You break away to speak, twirling your tongue around the line of saliva that connects you to his tip in the most lewd way possible.

“Yes,” Jimin pants, clearing his throat when his voice comes out raspy. But the sound makes you drip into your designer panties, the flimsy material doing little against your increasing wetness. “How did you become so skilled at this, My Queen? You are such an angel but possess devilish talent with that pretty mouth of yours.”

“I had an excellent teacher.” You wink up at him, hoping he was imaging all the times he guided you when you wished to taste him, becoming more confident as time passed and you no longer feared your gag reflex. You figure now is a good time to demonstrate just how well you absorbed those lessons, you finally sink further down on him until he touches the back of your mouth, collecting your spit to slick him before pushing him deeper and into your throat. Your stomach quivers as you hold back the urge to gag, but he sees none of that because when you look up his head is tossed back in ecstasy and concentration. He must focus so he doesn’t cum so soon.

“Just like that.” Biting into the plush of his bottom lip, Jimin falls into the trance of your movements, bobbing up and down on him with his tip lodged in your throat. The first moan he lets out has a shiver crawling up your spine, deep and loud so it echoes against every surface of the room. Drool slides out of your mouth as you continue to suck him but you pay no mind to it, only focused on the way your lover’s body reacts to you. His chest heaves for breath and you can see perspiration beginning to coat his chest and neck, Adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. The hand that was previously occupied with the rest of his length moves to his balls, kneading and massaging the sack gently as more moans pour from his mouth. Your clit throbs the longer you suck on him, his cock now at full length and hardness and feeling so thick and heavy on your jaw that you can’t help but fantasize about feeling it inside you again.

His hips eventually begin to twitch and rock into each of your movements, but you can tell he is restraining himself from bucking into you fully. When his eyes connect with yours again, you nod as best you can, pulling off slightly to take a few deep breaths and kiss along his silky skin. Once you have your breathing back to normal, you poise yourself with your mouth open wide and tongue poking out, the sight of you inviting him into your warmth while dressed so scantly and looking up at him with such confidence making it incredibly difficult for him to keep his composure. Here you are, his Queen, the ruler of an entire kingdom by birth right who possesses such elegance and high esteem, sitting below him and offering your throat for his pleasure. This is something that no one else in the entire world will ever see and he feels something similar to pride swelling in his chest at that fact. He knows what you are silently asking him to do, so he does not keep you waiting a second longer before inserting himself back into your mouth and easing his way in until your nose is nestled in the trimmed hair above his pubic bone.

Curses leave him in a continuous string as he takes time to adjust to the sensation, a lightness filling your head that makes you feel like you are floating through the clouds. And that feeling only increases when he starts to move, pulling his hips back for you to take in air through your nose before thrusting in again. Jimin fucks your mouth slowly at first, warming you up to it before he starts to get a bit rougher and visibly more eager, his lips sucked into his mouth as he glares down at you. In any other context, you would think him angry if he ever peered at anyone this intensely, but now you only feel the pool of arousal that builds in your core and gushes out of you at the intimidating glower. Still, his muscles are rigid with hesitance.

“May I go faster?” He breathes, never pulling out to free your mouth to respond. You moan out an answer as best you can, running your tongue against him in approval until he finally releases his tension and follows the urges of his body. He doesn’t aim deep into you, but his pace is quick, surely bruising your esophagus, yet you cannot bring yourself to be bothered. The sensation is indescribable, his hands cupping the back of your head and the sheer heat of his body almost overrides the lack of oxygen in your lungs— and simply imagining the pleasure he is feeling because of you has electricity shooting down to your core. Jimin has his eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth, but they quickly shift when your hands find their way to your chest to pull down the bra just enough so your nipples poke out, both hands pushing your breasts together to give him a sight that almost causes him to lose his load right then and there. His hips lose control, stuttering and twitching as his eyes widen comically at the dream-like image of you, and he is forced to pull away after little over a minute of fucking your face. “Fuck-!”

“Is something the matter?” You ask innocently, knees screaming out from your sustained position. The veins in your husband’s hand bulge as he grips himself so tightly his knuckles turn white, his length jumping every time he opens his eyes to look at you. His use of hard profanity is enough to tell you how much you have unraveled him and you revel in the accomplishment.

“Get up here.” He pants, taking your arm in his free hand and helping you to your feet. You hear him click his tongue at the redness of your knees, but don’t have much time to dismiss it before his lips are on yours. Jimin kisses you deeply as if your face is not sloppy with saliva and his precum. He kisses you like it could save lives. And above every filthy thing you have done with him, this kiss is what makes you feel a bashful heat color your cheeks when he pulls you closer.

“Am I to assume I performed well?” You mumble against his lips, eyes crossing slightly to see his smile.

“You were outstanding. So much so that I nearly came down your pretty throat.” Smugly, Jimin unclips your bra, parting from your lips after several minutes of kissing to trace his tongue down your neck until he reaches your chest, forgoing all teasing to wrap his lips around a pert nipple.

“Oh-“ A surprised yelp leaves you and he has to use his strength to keep you from falling over, your legs suddenly feeling like jelly. Your fingers card through his drying hair, tugging at the unbothered man as he has his fun marking and sucking at you. As always, his mouth works miracles, but you have never felt anything like this before. Each swipe of his tongue around your nub has you moaning out his name, when he twists at the other nipple your head falls back in absolute bliss. He’s not doing anything extraordinarily notable, but it is like your body has reached a sensitivity that is completely new to you both. Jimin certainly is enjoying it immensely. His eyes are closed but you can see how they crinkle gleefully at the sides, his cheekbones high almost as if trying to conceal his amusement at your reactions. With puckered lips, he suctions one of your nipples before pulling back to speak.

“I can’t wait,” He grazes his teeth over your other tit before continuing. “-until these fill up with milk for our baby. I’m sure you will look incredible carrying our child inside you— even more amazing than you already look, my love. So round and plump... your cute little womb filled to the brim with my cum and baby.” Your eyes roll when one of his hands slips down your panties to tease at your lips. A growl resonates in his chest at the feel of your wetness. “You like the sound of that, don’t you? What would the people say if they found out that their elegant Queen got soaking wet just from sucking cock and thinking of getting her pussy stuffed full of cum? Hmm? Surely they will know how filthy you are once they see you swollen with my child, walking around the kingdom so shamelessly after getting marked by my seed. They’ll know just how good you’ve been for me, darling.”

“I want them to know I’m yours; I want to be pregnant with your baby so badly!” You sob, hips bucking into his hand as soon as he makes contact with your clit.

He soothes you with soft kisses along your face, ending with a lick to the corner of your mouth as you pant out loud moans for him. “I know, love. The time will come soon enough.”

Once again his lips return to your chest, and the combination of his mouth and fingers has your walls fluttering and clenching around nothing. Even after he removes his hand from your panties to hold you closer to him, you feel the building of an orgasm. Your body is completely taken by his tongue and teeth as they suckle cherry blossoms into your skin. And when his wet fingers travel up to twist at your unattended nipple, you feel your body careening off the edge unexpectedly.

“J-Jimin, I-“ Your sentence is cut short by a long whimper, mind going blank at the pleasure. You are able to feel how your walls snap open and closed, each pulse growing more intense as the high drags on for what seems like an eternity to you. Jimin groans at the sounds you make and he looks on in awe from where he still laves at your breast as you bite down on your lower lip to ground yourself. He doesn’t mind the way you tug at his roots in your bliss. The pain only adds to the throbbing of his cock.

“So sexy,” He murmurs as you regain your senses. You seem embarrassed, unable to meet his eyes, and he questions it.

“I have never-“ Averting your eyes to the ground, you look for words in your scrambled mind.

“You’ve never cum like that before?” For some reason you find it slightly humiliating and you have no idea why. Were you really that sensitive from not having sex with him for a few weeks? Your nipples were never that receptive before. Nodding in agreement, you hide your face until Jimin lifts your chin with his finger. “Do not shy away from me, My Queen. You look gorgeous when you cum.” Before you can process it, his hands are yanking down your ruined panties, drenched all the way through and dripping. Your back connects with the wall next to the mirror as you are pinned against the surface with his weight. His fingers slide over your clit and you jolt, attempting to close your legs, but he is faster and jams his thigh between yours to hold you open. “In fact, you look so good that I want to see you do it again.”

Without warning, he plunges 2 fingers knuckle deep into you, searching with little trouble for that spongey area inside you. You are wet enough to lubricate his fingers until he drips down his hand, the slick part of his palm beginning to rub harshly against your clit when his fingers curl upwards.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp brokenly when he reaches your spot. Feeling you clench, Jimin hums and goes to work massaging the area with the pads of his fingers, pressing his other hand to your lower stomach to increase the pressure. Since the first time you squirted he has been almost obsessed with the sight, working diligently to figure out how to make you do it again. There have been many nights dedicated solely to that cause— nights that you endured with bright red cheeks each time he made fun of your fucked out expression and hoarse voice— it is to the point where he now knows your every weakness and can manipulate your body with mastery. He knows exactly how much pressure you like when his fingers are deep inside you. He knows just the right way to massage that sensitive area to get you to fall apart again even if you feel overstimulated. He knows how to move his entire arm to hit that spot each time without fail, his technique flawless as he moves rapidly inside your clenching heat. Almost like a balloon filling with water, you feel another high building up in your core frighteningly fast and the lewd squelch coming from between your legs soon becomes the loudest noise in the room.

“Let go for me,” Jimin encourages into your skin, burying his face in the crook of your neck and panting hot breaths. It is easy to tell how easily he gets himself worked up when pleasuring you. His hard, wet cock twitches incessantly against your thigh, teasingly close to where you want him, and the feeling alone has you galloping closer to your second release. “You look so beautiful like this, pushed against a wall and taking my fingers. I bet you are just starving for my cock, aren’t you, My Queen? I’ll give it to you right after you cum for me. I want you to show me how badly you want it by soaking my arm with your sweet juices.”

The filthy words he feeds you only add to the hunger you feel for him. One of your legs lifts to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as the balloon in your core continues to grow. Your heart is in your ears, beating rapidly, and you have no other choice but to listen to him and release your pleasure. With one synchronized prod of his fingers and circle around your clit, you descend into depraved ecstasy and let the balloon pop. You black out slightly, ears ringing and body numb to the world except for everywhere that your husband touches you, but you are aware of the satisfied moan he gives at your obedience. Whispers of delicate praises tickle your chest as he rests his forehead on your collarbone to watch you soil the floors and his lower half with your clear cum. The sound of it splashing and splattering against each nearby surface is quite embarrassing but you can’t bring yourself to think of it when your legs are shaking this hard and your body is tingling with joy.

“Good girl,” You hear Jimin groan, pulling his fingers from you to wrap his arms around your waist so you don’t topple over on your wobbly leg. He figures it may just be easier to keep you up if both of your legs are off the wet floor, so he moves your other leg to wind around his waist before carrying you out of the room and away from the mess to the bed.

Your glazed eyes take him in as he stands above you, a hand running through his disheveled hair as he studies you as well. His face is flushed and sweaty and his chest rises and falls quickly, but you’re sure that is only partly due to the effort he has just put in. There are claw marks on his shoulders and you gasp. You hadn’t realized you were gripping him so tightly, but he doesn’t seem to mind the marks at all, focused entirely on the throbbing member between his legs. Your eyes drop down his toned body to where his hand leisurely strokes up and down his shaft, purposely avoiding the tip to keep himself on the edge. It is almost purple with built up pressure, likely painful by this point, and you will yourself to move your weak limbs to reach out for him, pulling him closer to invite him between your open legs.

He takes his place at your center, one hand pressing into the soft mattress beside your head as he leans over you. You want him to kiss you so badly, but you want him inside you even more. He acquiescences this by sliding into you smoothly before swooping down for your lips.

“Mm~ Jimin!” The thick girth of his shaft stretches you perfectly, ignorant of your ticklish sensitivity as it searches for the deepest spot within you. In no time at all Jimin’s hips are flush with your ass, lips and tongue swallowing your moans into his own mouth.

“(Y/n)-“ He moans in response. Eyes squeezed tight, he forces himself to remain still. “I lose my breath every time I take this dripping pussy of yours. I’ll never get used to it.” Flattered, you hide your face with his by pulling him in for another kiss. The two of you stay like this for a long while, adjusting to each other’s bodies and basking in the intimacy of the moment.

“My love, please move.” You whine when the stillness becomes unbearable, yet you grieve at the loss of his heat when he leans away to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

The first thrust of his hips already has you squirming. Your slick makes it so easy for him to pump into you that he barely has to put in any effort at all, his hips snapping sharply into you from the beginning. You let your legs fall farther apart at his sides and bite your lip when Jimin’s eyes land between your thighs, staring intently at the place where your bodies connect. You’re sure he can see everything, from the way your lips spread open around his wide member, to the shiny streaks of your arousal that quickly slick the inside of your thighs. It’s like you can feel his gaze caressing you, your body feeling sensitive everywhere he studies. You moan unabashedly at the sensation.

“Do you like it, My Queen? Does this feel good?” He prompts, eager for your praise.

“Y-yes, I-“ It has been so long without his cock inside you that you can’t think clearly. All you can do is shout his name and cling to the bedsheets as he wraps his arms around your thighs and holds them flush against his front. The angle makes you stutter, his tip touching somewhere sensitive that has your thighs squeezing closed. “P-please, harder. Use me.”

“Keep these fucking legs open.” Jimin growls, thrusting more harshly now. You attempt to follow his command and unclench your thighs, but they shake violently as soon as they part and it takes immense focus for you to hold them there. Looking up at your lover, you see the dark look that overtakes his features, dominance radiating off of him as he gets lost in you. You haven’t seen this look on him in a long while, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t sexy. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, devour you whole and leave not a morsel of you left until he’s had his fill.

Watching Jimin gain so much pleasure from you takes you to another level of bliss. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pounds his cock within your depths, determined to pull more desperate sounds from your throat, and his teeth bite down on his plush bottom lip in concentration. Sweat now trickles down his brow from the humid heat of the room, undoing the bath he took prior and replacing the soap with the scent of sex that leaks from his pores. This man is undeniably the hottest person you have ever laid eyes on and you can’t help but clench around him at the visuals he’s giving you.

Feeling you clench, Jimin moans, dragging his eyes up your figure until they land on your breasts. They jolt with every harsh thrust he gives you and dance flirtatiously in front of him— he can’t look away. Suddenly, he leans down and snatches up your hands, pinning them above your head with his fingers intertwined with yours, nearly drooling at how delectable you look under him. Your breasts certainly look different, the shape has become rounder and they jiggle slightly more than he can remember, but Jimin doesn’t think much of this as he focuses on delivering hard strokes. You shiver when his tongue licks a stripe up your damp neck, sucking a spot just below your ear before nibbling the lobe. He knows this is a weak spot for you, and just as he expected, your walls tighten around him once more. You push against him, trying to free your hands, but he has them locked sturdily in his grasp, silently forcing you to submit to him. You probably want to wind your fingers in his hair or grip onto his biceps, but he won’t give up an ounce of power at the moment. Not while he is ravaging you like this. So you settle for squeezing his hands and soaking in their warmth, gasping breathlessly as he takes you. You are entirely at his mercy and you absolutely love it.

One of his hands moves down to grip your thigh and push it open, unlocking you from where you have been clenched around his hips. Both of your wrists now held in one hand and still pinned against the sheets. The bed frame creaks noisily as he changes pace, abandoning his hard and fast thrusts for a slow and deep grind that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Something feels different about you, about the way you feel around him as the head of his cock licks at your cervix. It’s softer than usual and open for him, almost begging for his sperm, and he thinks this is the perfect time to get you pregnant. He aims to stay deep inside you. Each powerful movement is purposeful, everything down to the slight arch of his back that allows his pubic bone to grind into your clit, and you feel like you’re going crazy.

“Oh fuck, Jimin! I’m close again!” Your voice is strained in your throat and he smirks at the sound. He can feel it, the swell of your walls around him as you near your third high, and he swears it’s tighter than usual. Your muscles begin to tense up and push against him, preparing for your inevitable release. And just because you feel like pushing his buttons today, you allow your thighs to attempt to squeeze closed again.

“What did I say?!” The depth of his voice shocks you briefly and your eyes snap open to look at him. His jaw is tight as his stare bores into you with deadly intensity. “Keep your fucking legs open. Or do I have to hold them for you?” You let out a whimper, not daring to move your hands from their raised position when he drops your wrists to push open your other thigh, leaving you dripping and exposed in front of him. Your skin dimples where his fingertips dig into you— though he is careful not to bruise you— and he seems to hit even deeper like this. “You used to be so well behaved, My Queen. Are you acting out just to get a rise out of me?”

You dodge the question. “Please, Jimin, please make me cum again.” You can hardly hear anything aside from the slap of his balls against your ass and the squelch of his cock pushing through your warm walls.

“You think you deserve to cum? What will you do for it?” A dark chuckle leaves his throat when he sees you genuinely thinking of a response, biting so hard on your lip that he fears it might bleed.

“Anything.” You breathe. You’re unsure of how long you can hold back your orgasm, he feels so good fucking you like this, pushing his whole length into you without mercy.

“Anything, darling?” A lecherous grin plasters itself onto his mouth at your expression. “Hm, are you just saying that because you’re desperate? I can tell it feels good, you’re leaking all over me. Do you like it when I go deep like this?” You nod with a whine, eyelids pressed closed to hold back from cumming. “Open your eyes. Look at how deep I am inside you.” Peeling your eyes open, you peer down at yourself upon his command and see where his own eyes are glued. A small bulge presses against your lower abdomen every time he pushes in, disappearing when he pulls out only to reappear with the next thrust. Neither of you can take your eyes off of the sight, absolutely mesmerized by it.

“Please, I’m so close!” You groan loudly.

“You say you’ll do anything, my love?”

“Yes!”

“Will you be a good girl and let me put my baby in you? Let me cum right here against this fertile womb and get you pregnant with my baby?” The effect of his dirty talk is immediate and you clamp down on him, barely holding back as his hand rests over the bulge in your tummy, adding the tiniest amount of pressure to it.

“I will! Please!” Tears wet your doe eyes as you look up at him, digging your nails into the soft sheets above your head to keep from moving your arms from their position. He notes this with a hum, speeding up his hips in reward for your obedience.

“I know you will. Now cum.” On command, your body lets go of all the pent up pressure in your core, gripping onto his length with unbearable strength. Your walls pulsate with so much force that you nearly push him out, and when he finally pulls out of you, you squirt once again over the ledge of the bed. His hands on your legs do nothing to quell the wild tremors that overtake you and the streams of tears that flow over the apples of your cheeks. You are truly a sight to see, flushed red and glowing with the aftermath of yet another ferocious orgasm. Your sensitivity once again shocks him into silence. He didn’t even need to touch your clit for you to climax.

His stiff member bobs like a flagpole in the wind as he takes you in. It’s so hard that it stands straight up against his abdomen, jumping with its own pulse. When you open your eyes it is the first thing you see, and your body heats up again.

“Can you take any more, my love?” Jimin questions with concern, tracing his hands up your waist soothingly.

“Always. I can always take more of you.” Despite the screaming in your limbs, you sit up abruptly and pull him down to the bed, rolling the two of you over as you lock lips. Jimin seems surprised but not opposed to the shift in power dynamics, sensing that you want to take the reins for now. Your fingers wrap around his base and line him up with your slit, showing not even a moment’s hesitation before dropping down and knocking the wind out of both of you.

“You do not have to-“

“No, Jimin, I want to. I am supposed to be treating you after all, let me make you feel good.”

Fuck, you’re hot. Not only do you look amazing on top of him, but your pussy feels much hotter than usual. And it’s so tight, as if it’s greedy for every inch of him and eager to suck out his release. He won’t last long like this, that is for certain. His hands support you as you shift into a squat above him— and maybe it’s the novelty of the position, but he swears it’s never felt this good before.

“I imagined this so many times, but I never thought I’d actually get to see you riding me like this.” He confesses in a strained breath. You press your palms into his chest to lift yourself up, lowering yourself experimentally before repeating the action with less restraint.

“Am I living up to your expectations?” It could just be the angle, but his cock feels unbelievably deep inside you, and you half expect it to hurt yet you feel no pain. There is not even the slightest bit of discomfort as he nudges at your womb and you attribute this to the three incredible orgasms you have already reached tonight.

“God, yes.” He can’t look away from where you impale yourself on him, your shaky legs spread wide to let him see every second of the erotic display. From the way you grip him every time you lift up, to the strings of your arousal and cum that weave a sticky web between your ass and his pelvis, and even to the way your clit swallows in delight, he almost goes lightheaded as he takes it all in. His throat bobs as he gulps, back arching off the sheets under your warm hands.

“Faster?”

You don’t wait for a response before you start speeding up. He’s close, you can feel it in the way he swells against your walls and see it in the way his neck and chest color that pretty pink color you adore so much. Your limbs are aching for relief and it takes all of your remaining energy to keep up your efforts, but you wouldn’t dream of stopping. No, you are determined to bring Jimin to his end no matter what. The high pitched moans he lets out for your ears only are more than enough motivation to keep going, but you are working for a prize much more valuable that the lovely sounds he makes for you. You want his cum. You want it so badly that it is the only thing you can think of, so despite the pain in your fragile legs as you bounce yourself as hard and fast as you can, you continue for him. You’ve never been afraid to put in a little effort, and this is something you are willing to work for.

“(Y/n), I’m gonna cum!” Jimin’s dialect shines through strongly as he grits his teeth through the pleasure you bombard him with. You know it must feel different for him, the pleasure is always so much more intense when you aren’t the one doing all the work, and this is the first time you’ve pinned him down like this. It’s the first time you’ve dropped yourself down to clamp your knees on either side of him and wrap yourself around his upper body as you pant into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses and coaxing him toward his high with whispered words. Now that the roles are reversed, you can see just how wrecked he is for you— the usually composed king now lies spread in a heap of matted hair, sweaty skin, and bitten lips, completely speechless and grasping onto your thighs in a desperate bid to hold onto his sanity. “Please, I- I-“

“Cum for me, My King,” You are sure your body has just about reached its limit, but you feel no pain or fatigue when you look into your lover’s eyes and find an unraveled man. “I promised I would take your cum and let you get me pregnant. Give it all to me, my love, I want it. Cum inside me, Jimin.”

Bucking his hips, Jimin loses all control and throws his head back in anticipation as he aids your movements with his strong arms. When he feels your lips on his chin, he leans forward and allows you to swallow his groans of pleasure, both of you starved for breath but unwilling to pull away from the kiss. Everything you have done for him tonight— wearing sexy lingerie, getting on your knees to please him, squirting not once but twice— culminates into this one moment and he doesn’t think he can take take it. It’s all too much. With three sharp thrusts from both of you, he climaxes with a shout, lifting you up along with him as his hips rise off the bed.

“Oh fuck!” Maybe you shouldn’t feel this way, but you giggle giddily at the state of rapture he’s in because of you. The veins in his neck pop out of his skin as he dumps spurt after spurt of his semen into you, and you think this is the biggest load he’s ever given you. It takes a long time for him to come down from his high and for a moment you wonder if he will be okay with the way he twitches and shivers as your hips roll to a stop.

He doesn’t seem to mind your weight resting on top of him, nor does he react to the light kisses you press to his drenched skin. He does, however, wrap his arms securely around you when you shift to roll off of him, holding you on top of his body until you both have caught your breath and can open your heavy eyelids enough to look at each other with tired smiles.

“I love you.” You grin, running your digits through his disheveled mop of hair.

“I love you more, My Queen.” He pulls you down for another kiss to silence whatever rebuttal you surely have prepared at the tip of your tongue because he knows what you will say. And the thought makes his heart swell.

It seems like hours pass before both of you can work up the strength to part from each other. You have to be carried to the bathroom because your limbs feel far too weak and Jimin is not yet willing to let you go from his embrace. He is mindful of the puddle that you left on the floor as he carries you to the bath, and both of you sink into the depths together to wash away all your sins. You stay like that until your toes are pruned and the water is slightly cooler than lukewarm, the time flying by as you talk freely about everything you can think of: your hopes for your future family, your day with Jackson and Lena, gossip about Lilian and her whereabouts— she has not yet returned to the lodge even at this late hour and you hope that she is safe, but more importantly, you hope that her night with that handsome male servant ends similarly to yours. She could afford to take tonight and tomorrow off to unwind a bit, you feel a tad guilty that her needs may be neglected in the kingdom as she tends to you nonstop in the castle. Sleep finds you both easily and you cannot drop the smile from your cheeks as you cuddle up with the man you love.

This afternoon would have been perfect if not for the way you were feeling. Sparse clouds float through the sunny blue sky, the mountains surrounding you blossoming with vibrancy, but the beautiful scenery is dulled in your bleary eyesight. The lightheadedness you’d felt upon arrival two days ago has returned, along with a pounding headache that dampens your mood.

Jimin and Jackson walk ahead of their queens, talking casually as though they had been friends for years. The sight makes your heart grow warm and you use it to distract you from your discomfort as you walk along the outside pathways to a different section of the enormous castle. Lena notices the shift in your demeanor fairly quickly, commenting that you look less energized than yesterday.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” She implores, her brow creased with worry.

“I had a very restful sleep last night, but it feels like my body is dragging behind.” You try to keep yourself from rubbing at your face. Royals are not supposed to show weakness and vulnerability in public, and even though you are only surrounded by Kyungsoo and a few of Lena’s servants, you wish to uphold your appearances. “I do not feel sick, however, so I do not think it is caused by illness.”

“Would there be any other reason for you to feel fatigued? We did spend quite a considerable amount of time in the heat yesterday.”

“Well,” The guards and servants lag behind you far enough for them not to hear your conversation, but you still lower your voice in modesty. “Jimin and I were intimate late into the evening...” You figure your late night activities are also the reason for the tenderness you feel in your breasts, your tight undergarments causing slight pain as they bind your chest.

“Ah, I see!” She beams back at you, giggling. “You were not used to such strenuous exercise. I have experience with that— one time Jackson kept me in bed for so long that I nearly fainted from dehydration! Jimin seems like he would have a lot of stamina, be careful with that one.” The wiggle of her eyebrows lifts your spirits a bit. Speaking of such lewd subjects is seen as unladylike, especially for royalty, but you find yourself uncaring of that when you are with Lena. You have never had a woman of your same age and status to converse with before, no one could ever relate or felt comfortable enough to speak freely with you. This closeness you have with her is a novel feeling— and it is likely that Jimin feels the same with Jackson.

“I’ll be sure to be mindful of that.” You smile, staring at the back of his head. Your husband turns to look at you when he feels your eyes as he passively listens to the other King recall a story, sending a wink your way before returning his attention to the man beside him.

“Is there any other possible explanation for your symptoms?” Redirecting your gaze to Lena, you catch how her eyes flicker down to your stomach, a small smile on her lips. As soon as you realize her meaning, you stiffen, legs nearly bringing you to a halt.

“No,” Your eyes fall to the ground. “I... do not think it is pregnancy. Before I departed from home I was examined by my doctor and she-“ You sigh. “I am not pregnant.”

“Hmm. Well, I have been pregnant 4 times and have experienced many symptoms with each of my children. What you described to me sounds familiar. Do not dismiss the idea just yet, (Y/n).”

Before you can even open your mouth to form a reply, you are hit with a wave of dizziness that makes the world spin. Kyungsoo is by your side in an instant, stabilizing you as someone asks if you are alright. You are led to a nearby bench where all of the servants crowd around you, Jimin rushing over when he hears the commotion.

“(Y/n)?! What’s the matter?” The world spins a little less when your eyes are closed, so you do not look up at him, but you can imagine the almost sickly worry covering his lovely face. You know he has been especially traumatized by the events of your wedding and you never want to put him in a situation like that again, but you can’t help the way your body feels. Distantly, you hear Jackson order a servant to get the doctor, footsteps skittering away as he comes to squat down in front of you.

“Are you ill?” Jackson’s voice calms the anxiety you weren’t aware you were feeling. It is frightening not knowing what’s going on with your own body. Lena’s words ring in your mind.

“N-no, it is just the altitude. I just need to rest for a minute.” Your excuse is almost convincing, but no one moves— except for Jimin, who moves closer to you on the bench to support your back. After a few minutes, your head begins to clear, though your vision remains blurry. Eyes silently peer at you from all sides and you can feel them hot on your skin, embarrassment now the prominent emotion you feel. “Please do not worry about me, I am fine, really.”

“Are you certain? We can rest here for a little while longer.” Jimin suggests gently, but for some reason this irritates you.

“I said I’m fine.” You snap, earning an even more concerned look from him. Just then, the doctor approaches, slightly out of breath and sweating. “I don’t need a doctor! I’m feeling better already. Look.” You no longer feel dizzy anymore so you attempt to stand, rising quickly from the seat to come face to face with Jackson as he rises as well. Jimin still has his arm around you, both men watching you closely. “See?” But as soon as you’re stable on your feet, the spinning returns as if on cue and you come toppling forward into Jackson’s arms, everything going black.

“You don’t need to do this, Jackson, I told you I feel okay now.” You grumble as he carries you to the infirmary inside the castle. He took you into his arms without hesitation when you fell, offering to carry you because Jimin was rapidly descending into distress. While you were only out for about 2 minutes before you regained consciousness, everyone had reacted as if you were dying.

Looking at your husband now, you can see how unnerved he has become. Because he is a General who has seen many battles, he has trained himself not to react emotionally in stressful situations— but you can read the look in his eyes as clear as day as he walks alongside you, watching you more closely than what is in front of him.

“That is what you said earlier, and then you fainted immediately afterwards. Do not worry, I don’t mind carrying you. I needed a little exercise today anyway.” Always a jokester, you crack a smile at his comment, rolling your eyes as the doctor leads him into a room to rest you on the bed. The doctor works quickly, taking a blood sample from you and leaving for the lab, having already taken your vitals when you initially passed out. “We’ll be waiting outside.” With that, Jackson takes Lena’s shaky hand and exits the room, leaving you in bed and Jimin hovering over you awkwardly.

“Please sit down, you are making me nervous.” You breathe. He blinks and nods absently, perching himself on the edge of the bed next to you. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.” He laughs dryly. Jimin bites his lip when you give him a sympathetic gaze and take his hand. Your words from the argument you had nearly a month ago echo in his head. This is a chance for him to open up to you about his emotions and seek your comfort, your expression shows that you are expecting it of him, so he takes a deep breath. There’s no use hiding his emotions from you. “Truth be told, I am a wreck. You fainting brought back some rather unpleasant memories.” He confesses.

“I’m sorry.” You really are apologetic, stressing him out is the last thing you ever wanted to do.

“It is not your fault. I just worry about you so much. I cannot bear to lose you, my love, and I feel so helpless when things like this happen, it feels like I always have to wait for others to come to rescue you.”

“Would you like to become a doctor so you are more prepared, then?” He wasn’t expecting that response and snaps his head up to look at you when you laugh. “You cannot control everything that happens to me, Jimin. It is okay to let others help. All I need is for you to stay by my side, your presence is more than enough.” He nods at this, accepting the kiss you plant on his cheek and squeezing your hands.

Long seconds of silence pass as you wait for the doctor to return. Then, a sudden thought pops into your mind that makes you groan aloud.

“Lilian is going to be pissed at me.” You can’t help but chuckle at the circumstances.

“Why is that?”

“I told her to take off today and enjoy her time here, but she was worried about me so she initially refused. I assured her of my health this morning before we left. I can only imagine to look on her face once she finds out what happened.” You do feel a bit bad, Lilian knows you better than anyone and it is clear that she could tell something was off, but you convinced her that her instincts were wrong and now you find yourself in the infirmary. She will surely put herself down over this incident because of her absence when you most needed her.

“You can worry about her after we confirm that you are okay. For now, let us focus on this.” Just then, the doctor enters the room again, coming to stand at the bottom of the bed as you and Jimin look up at them with expectant eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest. You’ve become so used to hearing bad news from doctors, you are almost conditioned to be nervous and guarded around them.

“(Y/n), I have determined the cause of your sudden collapse.” Jimin squeezes your hand tighter and you can feel the sweat on his fingertips. “It appears that you are pregnant! Congratulations! The blood tests showed high levels of-“

“Pardon?” You interject with a raspy voice. Your brain is having a hard time processing the words and you blink slowly for a few seconds, unaware of Jimin’s shell shocked expression. “I- H-how can this be? My physician tested me right before I left and she said I was not pregnant.”

“Well, it is entirely possible to get false negative results, especially when it is early in the pregnancy. I don’t think it reflects poorly on your physician, these things just happen sometimes and are completely out of our control. But looking at my test results and the symptoms you have been experiencing, I am certain that you are about 6 weeks pregnant.”

“B-but I bled last month.”

“For how many days?”

“One or two...”

“Then that was likely implantation bleeding, which is to be expected. Dizziness and even fainting are also fairly common symptoms, so there is no particular need to worry about today’s incident— though I recommend that you make sure to get adequate rest and nutrition to avoid complications in the future. Once again, congratulations.”

Finally, you drag your gaze over to your husband who has been silent since the doctor appeared, and his eyes are filled to the brim with tears when they connect with yours.

“You- (Y/n), you’re finally pregnant!” He whispers, and the way his voice cracks causes the dam to break within yourself and all of your emotions come flooding out. Before you know it you’re wrapped in his embrace, both of you simultaneously sobbing and laughing into each other’s necks from pure joy and surprise as the doctor excuses themselves from the room. It is like all of the building frustration from the past several months has been crushing you slowly and now that weight has been lifted, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time. Jimin feels similarly. He has been holding back so many of his emotions since you first started trying to get pregnant and that has taken a tremendous toll on his mind and body, but for the first time, he can finally release those emotions and let himself feel the heaviness of it all. He is crying harder than you are, soaking the top of your dress as you cradle his head to you and hold him there. His hands ghost over your waist and lower abdomen so delicately, as if protecting the growing life inside of you.

When you’ve both gotten yourselves together enough to allow Jackson and Lena to visit, they rush in without hesitation.

“Is everything okay?” Lena is by your side first, immediately noticing your red and puffy eyes. You’re a little bit hesitant to tell her because you know she’ll gloat about her “sixth sense”.

“Yes, I’m alright. We just found out that I am pregnant.” The room erupts into noise, the two of them sounding like an entire circus as Jackson nearly jumps on Jimin in a bear hug and Lena squeals excitedly beside you.

“I knew it! You dismissed me so offhandedly and it turns out that I was right! I have a sixth sense for these things, you know; you should trust me more often.” Just as expected.

“And here you were, just telling me how worried you were about not yet yielding an heir to the throne,” Jackson throws a heavy arm over Jimin’s shoulder. “I suppose we should celebrate before you depart in the morning. I will throw a lovely ball tonight in your honor!”

“Oh, I must oversee the preparations then! Get some rest, (Y/n), and congratulations again!” And just like that, the couple is gone, rushing back out of the room and leaving you and your husband giggling.

“I am sorry, Lilian.” You apologize for what feels like the thousandth time. She continues to pout as she helps load your belongings into the carriage, barely sparing you a glance.

“I knew I should have stayed; I had a feeling something would happen.” She turns to scowl, not necessarily at you but it is in your direction. “I cannot believe I missed such a huge announcement as well! Both Jackson and Lena found out before me, this is so unfair.”

“You sound like a child,” You snicker, taking Kyungsoo’s hand as he helps you into the carriage behind Jimin.

“Yes, well I think I am allowed to throw a tantrum just this once.” You catch Kyungsoo crack a grin at her, the first time you’ve seen any emotion from him, and it brings a smile to your own face.

“If it makes you feel any better, Kyungsoo found out after Jackson and Lena, too.” Jimin comments, taking your hand and pulling you into his side.

“It does not make me feel better because he still found out before me!”

The sun is still low in the sky but slowly rises as you depart from the kingdom. Once you return to the castle, there are many duties that you must take care of, and many traditional processes you will have to go through now that you are pregnant— you are carrying a possible future heir to the throne after all. But you have never been happier. For now it still feels surreal, even though you have waited nearly a year for this moment, but as soon as the people of your kingdom come to greet you and celebrate the news of your conception, the reality of the situation will hit and you are sure you will be overwhelmed with new challenges. Pregnancy is not an easy thing, but at least you will have Jimin with you to help you through it all, just as he has always done. You rest your head on his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

“So Lilian, how was your date the other night? You seemed rather cozy with that young man at the ball yesterday evening.”

“It was not a date!”

[lovestrucked-again]

Delirium VIII

Summary: After being kidnapped and claimed by the notorious mafia leader, he offers you a 7 day period where you’ll be given the option after of staying or leaving. Until then, you’re stuck, whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Mafia leader X female reader   Word count: 3.7k

Genre & Warning: SMUT, BDSM - paper bonds LMAO, sex toys - vibrator, porn videos, oral sex (male receive), fingering, hair pulling, possessive, toxic and yandere like personality, humiliation, rough, orgasm denial, begging, orgasm control, praise, teasing, pee mentioned but no urophilia just Taeyong being obssessive over Y/N, being babied 24/7.

a/n: Okay so my holiday is finally here and ive finally had time to do this but ive put off my other collab accidentally instead... I am also finally getting to the climax of this story soon.

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Day 4 Continued

Your pulse is racing, the discomfort countering the wild sense of excitement. It’s not like you were completely stuck, you could free yourself with a sharp tug at your wrists but, you didn't want to.

You're a little irked that he’s left you like this for so long, but then again, it hardly surprises you considering the last teasing threat you made. Not like it was my fault though.

As soon as Taeyong left for the door, you had fallen back against the wall, desperately waiting for the release you were constantly climbing but could never reach. The chastity belt was only removed after he had returned from answering the door, the delivery food that had been ordered instantly trashed as he walked back to you blankly.

It should hardly surprise you how Taeyong thinks and works. It doesn't surprise you that his got you bound to his kitchen chair, naked and waiting. Doesn't surprise you that your ankles are once again tied by a thin nylon rope on the outside of the front chair legs. Doesn't surprise you that his managed to get you into a position with a vibrator deeply plunged into you, leaving the protrusion at the base nudging against your clit. However, what does manage to wonder you, is the fact that he walked out the front door almost 30 minutes ago and stated he wouldn't be back till lunch.

Had the device not been twisted an inconvenient one-eighty degrees inside you, you could just adjust it, switch it on and set it growling within and against you, rather than just staying fitted on the seat tight and inert. But that would mean ripping the crepe-paper bonds with which he had tied your wrists behind the chair-back. Your restraints he had improvised from the wrappings of your dress he bought the day before, carefully choosing it instead in case of any ‘unexpected circumstance'.

“Tear yourself free if you want,” he whispered in your ear having completed the delicate knotting, “but if you do I'll fuck you up properly and deprive you for the rest of the day."

So you were behaving yourself, staying in place, rocking back and forth as much as you can to create friction between the smooth surface of the sex toy to your clit. All while the images play out before you on screen.

He had picked a DVD from his modest but carefully put-together treasury of hardcore pornography. Placing the chair, you were straddled to, in front of his flat-screen, surrounding it with speakers for you to enjoy the maximised audio-visual experience of the sweating, groaning, foul-mouthed fuck-action.

“Pay special attention to the third scene,” he had warned you before leaving, “Because everything he does to her, I'm going to do to you.”

The sometimes limited appeal of porno visuals was hugely enhanced by your current situation. You can’t help but watch, enthralled, as a parade of pornstars drizzle themselves liberally with oily lubricant, massaging it lovingly into their curves, while the hired studs looked on in grinning anticipation, stroking their big erections. The same girls were then worked over vigorously by their hung-and-hoisted admirers, as you gazed, shifting vainly to increase the sense of traction inside your own filled pussy. Not for the first time that day you were writhing frustratedly yet again in an effort to bring yourself to climax.

Then the other sensation began to compete. There had been an excited knowingness in Taeyong’s eyes at odds with his calm demeanour as he had encouraged you to drink water. Now the liquid was draining south, filling you up and thwarting the desire which had been mounting, as you clench your groin muscles to stem the flow.

“Better not move,” he had warned you. While you could easily escape and relieve yourself both physically and pleasurably, you’re unwilling to countenance the prospect of his threat, not yet at any rate, so you endure your swollen bladder, resisting the urge to relieve yourself all over his living-room rug.

You sit and squirm and endure, watching as the DVD's third scene kicks in. Physical discomfort cannot squeeze out the thrill and the shame as the particular porn scenario unfolds before you. The slender girl with the hair sticking oily to her body to a slippery sheen. Submitting herself to the smug fuck who gets to nail her. Everything he does to her...

Your eyes widen and your throat holds in your breath. Oh my God. What is he doing, what is that... Then the urge to pee and the need to wrestle it overtakes your concentration and you curse at Taeyong all over again.

By the time you hear the key rattle in the lock, you had held yourself on the edge of bursting for over an hour. The DVD is still churning out its explicit content, incoherent fuck-noise pouring from the speakers, but you were long past paying it any mind. All your focus was on holding in the water.

You meet his gaze squarely as Taeyong walks through from the entryway, tilting your chin back defiantly whatever the torment from below, whatever thrilling fear you might feel regarding his next move. And you stay silent, just staring at him a challenge through your suffering and waiting to see where his whims would take you. The expression on his features is something between benevolence and amusement. Your pulse accelerates further as he approaches you; the arrogance in his bearing was tempering by something almost respectful, as he reaches out and strokes your damp hair. A ting of arousal builds only dimly through the pain from your distended bladder.

Taeyong contemplates his next move while he watches you. 'Irresistible' is the word that occurs to him, though that he keeps to himself. Your hair draping your slim shoulders rather stickily right now. A sheen of moisture glossing over your skin like on that hottest of summer weekends, a trickle of sweat making its path between your breasts' pert mounds, descending over the lightly-padded trim of your stomach towards the pink, vibrator-crammed revelation of your split thighs.

“You haven’t moved. I’m impressed.” His voice is soft and only mildly taunting as he tosses aside the bag he had been carrying and his firm hand touches your face gently. You gasp as his fingers trace a sweat-slick path down your neck, your body responding to him in spite of the need to relieve yourself. His hand cups the moistened curve of your left breast and he fondles you rhythmically till you groan. Slowly his fingers glide to a point over your sweat-moistened surface and pinch hard at your engorged nipple. The shudder is visible, you know. You feel like you can hardly hold yourself in any further. Then he’s behind you, kneading again, his other hand flat on your sternum and plunging gradually, till it firmly applies pressure to your lower stomach.

“Miss me?” he growls softly, as you wince and clench.

You laugh sarcastically, “I was distracted,” you tell him, your voice shallow. “Sensory overload. And no joke, but if you keep me here I'm going to piss all over your chair and that’s on you.”

Taeyong can’t help but chuckle “Whoops,” he says, raising his hand from your stomach. “My bad. Let me help you - you've been very well behaved. So far.” The final words are as ominous as they are soft-spoken. You try to hide your trembling as he drops to his knees and begins to untie your bound ankles, head between your thighs, breath flowing all over your splayed gash as he works.

As he leans in, completing the unfastening - you watch fascinated as his carefully groomed head of dark hair hovers around your crotch releasing the strong teeth around the base of the vibrator. Grasping your hips for leverage he draws the toy out leaving a residual of moisture and a stronger need to pee.

You manage to hold on and fight the urge to tear the wrist-bindings which you so easily could have done. Everything felt like a test, like Taeyong was testing your trust in him, your trust in this unexplained relationship.

Unsurprisingly, he stands up instantly and with an intimidating vibe, the vibrator in his hand is stowed into your mouth nearly choking you with your own flavour.

“Hold that while I get your wrists.” There’s a casual roughness to his tone that bites at your arousal while also pissing you off slightly, even as it drives you wild. And then, with a rip you’re free of all bonds, apart from the emotional one which is linked to Taeyong. He leans in behind you, hands encircling your slippery waist, his voice in your ear tender again. “Now, anywhere you'd like to go?”

Arousal seems to override your suffering as you feel your nipples resolve into hard points at his touch, at his breath on your face, yet you fight it. “Bathroom, please. Seriously. I can't hold it in.”

Taeyong was always in awe around you, yet again once more by the natural sensuality of you, the way your back arches and your breasts thrust out searchingly as he caresses around your skin. He strolls around the chair casually before, sliding his hands around your waist and under your thighs, scooping you easily into his arms. You link yourself around his neck for support and lay hazily in his grip as he carries your nude form from the living-room.

“You are a bad man,” you whisper breathily.

“You have no idea, baby.”

Your eyes lazily glimpse around the surroundings, noticing the direction you’re headed in is not where you wanted to go, “Why are you...”

Carried into his spacious bathroom, you realise with a jump of your heart how literally he was taking your request. You cling to his neck as he tips your back and lays you over the end of the bathtub. The porcelain surface feels cool on your flushed hot skin. You find yourself almost inverted, ass plumped against the curving wall, legs spread and hooked over the curved end of the bath, the intimacy of your swollen sex all on display for him.

“There you are,” Taeyong says lightly, as he disentangles himself from your grip. His hands roam meandering over the wet slopes of your breasts, upwards to your stomach and thighs. He was enjoying this intensely, enjoying your body and your predicaments. “You asked for the bathroom.”

Clearly, Taeyong could always outdo himself, always managing to shock you with some unexpected surprise. And for all the physical urgency to release, you feel your loins spontaneously tighten against it. Somehow, you felt weaker under his fingers, somewhat enjoying the overwhelming amount of wickedness that seemed to humble you into submission. Maybe perversely he wants you to give in early, prove you don't have the courage you acted upon with earlier in the day.

“Well?” His face hovers some way above the split between your legs. “What are you waiting for? I can let you do it alone, but I'll tie you up after and leave you alone for the longest time...”

“No need.” Your face feels hot and flushed, embarrassment fighting with excitement. Whatever.

You raise your head and shoulders from the tub and your right arm reaches around his neck, hand latching itself to the back of his head, fingers clutching into his hair. Your upper body stiffens as you cling to him for support, but the lower part of you releases and you give in. Taeyong hides the faintest shock as you don't talk back, watching your face as you grip him, sharing his gaze as you relieve yourself from the built up water, an unreadable look in his eyes.

You release your hold on him, as he reaches for the extendable shower head from above and tests the temperature against the sink. Laying back onto the bath surface, you allow the pale gush of water to roll across your belly, spilling around your breasts and channelling through the valley, splashing around your neck and precociously upturned chin. Taeyong places a soft kiss against your forehead as he brings the water around your skin.

“Did I do well?” you whisper, eyes closed as the lukewarm water runs over your thighs.

“You did,” he murmurs, trying not to let show the strange awe that he feels. “Very well.”

Your body feels weak and tired but you still feel weirdly pleased with yourself. The smile on Taeyong’s face is softer and it assures you. His fingers massage the back of your body, focusing on the parts where you would’ve felt the most tense from being in a tied position.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, hearing the shower head fall against the sides of the tub.

“Nothing.” He hums back, removing his shirt to the side of the tub as he leaves the bubbles to wash off your skin. Your face falls close to his chest as he leans against the edge of the bathtub.

And he lays you back down again, flipping the cap off the body soap once more and squirting the gel all around your lower stomach. You gasp a little as he begins to spread it all around your mound, slightly embarrassed as he cleans and rubs at it. “Just making sure you're properly clean.”

His voice is soft, his attentions careful and deliberate. He soaps with one hand, the circular movement slowing till his thumb rests on your clit. You gasp at the sensation, your whole body bridling under his touch. Peering up you can see him working you intently, his fingertips moving in minute circles on you, while the hard bulge of his cock strains in response against his pants.

He reaches with his other hand between the fork of your legs and you feel him strum back and forth for a moment over your sensitive lips. Your body follows in response and you shudder. Then suddenly, two of his fingers plunge inside you and commence to fuck briskly in and out and yet again you’re lost to all else.

The only thing you knew was Taeyong playing you and the erotic swell of his music throughout your being. Your eyes close and you give yourself up to it, moments from earlier flashing across your consciousness: the firmness of his hands as he tied you to the chair, his words in your ear - 'everything he does to her...' - the writhing, thrilling torment in which he had left you. Only now with your clit able to bloom freely under his touch, your pussy responding and lubricating to the traction of his diligently thrusting fingers. You recall the way he had denied you so cruelly in the morning and fear he would inflict that agony again, but his touch only intensifies and quickens, bringing you rapidly to your high.

“Fuck.” You manage to mutter, under your breath. Taeyong finds himself cherishing the sight of your lovely form squirming and humping under his attentions. Drawn to it. He clutches your loins all the way through your orgasm, your cunt tightening urgently on his pumping fingers, your juice flowing all over his palm.

His cock continues to squeeze against the zipper of his trousers as though trying to burst its way out but he attempts to ignore it. Somehow, you’d done it again. There was something about you that just managed to lull him into tenderness, that makes him prioritise your pleasure over his.  

You slump back onto the porcelain, spasming just a little further from his hands on you. He reaches across and draws you up with one hand to your upper back, the other still between your legs gently stroking the wet moisture of your cunt.

“How did that feel?” He could hear the edge to his own voice, desperately driving his soaring lust. “How did it make you feel? All of it?”

You stare at him as through a daze, temporarily rung out by your climactic explosion.

“Open.” Your eyes fix on him more firmly. “And exposed. It made me feel exposed.”

“And did you like that?” he asks with quiet relish.

“Yes I did.” You can feel a surge of anxiousness and excitement fluttering around your stomach as Taeyong slides his hand up around the roots of your hair. His hand bunches around the strands of your loose hair and he can see the disconcerted look return to your face.

“Well then, you're going to have much more of what you like.” He rises from the bath's edge and with his cum-smeared hand plucks at the front of his jeans, unfastening in a few swift moves. Both trousers and briefs fall down, allowing his erection to spring stridently into view. “Now get your mouth around me.”

You can feel the prompt of his clutching hand against your scalp, but after the sweetness of your orgasm you don't need to be asked again to give what he wants. Pushing all reservations aside as to his longer-term intent, you bring the hard velvet of his tip and suck.  The snarl of pleasure in his throat only adds to your effort as you work harder, feeling him resolve to steel in your mouth as you provide a hard suction on his first few inches.

His fingers tighten in your hair and he can’t help but push you down further onto him, his smooth thick pole surging to the back of your throat as you choke. He holds you firmly in place for a moment, then retracts his cock and begins to thrust repeatedly, fiercely into your throat. You can hear the sound in your own ears as you gag around him - straight out of the porn scene to which he had drawn your attention to. You’re the girl from the on-screen action now, the little facially-abused girl. He pulls right out, leaving your lips drooling before him.

“Remember the safe word?” Taeyong questions in a low growl.

You stare past his saliva-wet cock, straight into his eyes, “Yes.”

You were ready to test yourself, trusting when you had enough, he would stop. For now, you stare and open wide, inviting his renewed plunge.

It comes just as demanding as the first time and you take it all the way down this time without flinching, swallowing him to the balls and letting him fuck your face. You grasp around his thighs, steadying yourself as you feel his length filling up your mouth, attacking your throat, and feeling it succeed in accommodating all. He withdraws again and you let your mouth slobber freely, never breaking his gaze.

“You want more?” There’s an evil hint in his voice, as though he expects you to be cowed by his onslaught.

Yet you manage to shock him once again, “Yeah, I like it,” you whisper, almost daring him. He stalls slightly, letting the words sink in before ripping himself completely out of the remaining clothing in a few brief seconds.

“So come get.” He backs away, cock still erect and slick with saliva. “Come on baby girl, come and get it.” In a different circumstance, if this wasn't you, he would have laughed at such a proposition, never bothering to play with the women he fucked. But you just had something so interesting and alluring that made him insanely driven to all your next moves. Everything about you was so unexpected yet so captivating. And it makes him only more insane for you.

And as your days continued beside him, you seemed to have forgotten all of your morals, only craving his cock to be inside you – whether it was your mouth or wherever he wanted. So dignity be damned, you climb soaking over the side of the tub, clamber onto the floor and begin to crawl after him, wondering how well he likes your bare form pursuing him like this.

“That's it, baby, come to me, come get another taste...” You make a mad shuffling dash for him, mouth agape to take in his cock bobbing head, but he catches you by the shoulder and holds you off, “Come on, suck me.” But as you struggle to capture him with your lips, he persists in his restraint. “Show me how much you want it. Try and get your mouth around that cock,” he teases.

Asshole, you think, even as you fight him. He lets go of you suddenly and this time it was you who surges onto him, fitting your mouth and slotting yourself forcefully to near the base in a single fluid motion – leaving you rather impressed by your own success.

Taeyong moans in amazement, taken aback to find his cock all but engulfed by your mouth. Your hands clap to his upper thighs and he gasps deeper, as you haul him tight to you, taking the last of him down yourself. You hold your face there, your gaze looming in on his and holding the look. See how good I am?

He grabs you by the hair, harder than before, and you yelp. “Bad baby girl” he grumbles. “And you were being so, so good. Keep your hands to yourself.”

“But you liked it, didn't you?” you ask, the words coming out without crossing your mind.

Taeyong shakes his head and clicks his tongue in disapproval, “We do this on my terms,” he says evenly, hoping to mask his admiration with sternness.

The façade he puts up doesn't faze you and you continue hiding your own smirk, “Can't I improvise a little?”

Just as easily as you read him, he notices the mischief in your voice and he crams four fingers in your mouth to shut you up. Your eyes bulge at his assertive intrusion. “You don't improvise at all,” he warns. “You do what you're told. You speak when you're told. Apart from one word. And that word ends everything, okay?”

You nod, mouth still full with his fingers. Your heart continues thumping from the sheer sport of it all. You had taken so much over these past few days, explored all your inner desires with what he had given so far, yet the thought that he could still shock you was bewildering.

“Now get your ass to the living-room,” he says as he withdraws his fingers, “we have something to finish.”