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mothandpidgeon · 15 days

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Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

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pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you.

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller.

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely.

Her words still ring in your ears.

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life.

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said.

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you.

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart.

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder.

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says.

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask.

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room.

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid.

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you.

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better.

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now.

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say.

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture.

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say.

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh.

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles.

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her.

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there.

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time.

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face.

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy.

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen.

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself.

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze.

“Mercy?” Sarah asks.

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass.

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air.

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her.

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around.

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.”

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night.

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller.

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away.

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands.

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor.

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps.

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something.

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies.

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral.

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break.

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster.

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk.

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground.

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence.

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you.

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged.

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete.

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her.

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet.

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill.

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway.

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers.

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says.

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her.

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle.

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck.

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away.

You wait for a long time.

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now.

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes.

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine.

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare.

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you.

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family.

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope.

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning.

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday.

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt.

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you.

He left you to die but you just go on living.

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night.

You’re on your own.

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone.

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her.

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead.

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head.

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk.

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north.

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival.

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you.

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal.

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven.

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached.

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall.

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table.

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home.

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you.

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright.

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage.

“That really you?” he asks.

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope.

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife?

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner.

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller.

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up.

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become.

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up.

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel.

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival.

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago.

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath.

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall.

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened.

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks.

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out.

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes.

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says.

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you.

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious.

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself.

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder.

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark.

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back.

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say.

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing.

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall.

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel.

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today.

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine.

“You okay?” Ellie asks.

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much.

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall.

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers.

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken.

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says.

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out.

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache.

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted.

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you.

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded.

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves.

“Want some company?” you ask.

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in.

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him.

“Surprised you remember,” he says.

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.”

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living.

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything.

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck.

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down.

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.”

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him.

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says.

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says.

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear.

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him.

A thick knot forms in his throat.

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment.

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch.

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end.

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out.

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky.

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen.

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well.

“You sure?” he asks.

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect.

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask.

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains.

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates.

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since.

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes.

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile.

“How’s she look?” you ask.

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods.

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair.

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library.

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor.

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all.

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”.

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved.

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly.

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink.

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy.

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze.

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing.

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet.

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago.

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek.

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours.

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it.

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say.

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went.

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night.

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning.

And then you kissed him.

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing.

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone.

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you.

That’s when he heard it.

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong.

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you.

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again.

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself.

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you.

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you.

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon.

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth.

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table.

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs.

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says.

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply.

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says.

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life.

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there.

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips.

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open.

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers.

“Stay,” you murmur.

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back.

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress.

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well.

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further.

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could.

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.

After a while, though, it happens.

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them.

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light.

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment.

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him.

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper.

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up.

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes.

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever.

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want.

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul.

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass.

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him.

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him.

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply.

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this.

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories.

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before.

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back.

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?”

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft.

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself.

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all.

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart.

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection.

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years.

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you.

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

#joel miller #tlou #joel miller fic #bfd!joel miller #jackson!joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic

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borathae · 6 months

Text

↳ Index [Snippet #43 - Date Night]

"When you and Jungkook have your bi-monthly date night."

Genre: married life!AU, slice of life Fluff, Smut

Warnings: this is a two part story where one is a cute date and the other is them being kinky, a cute at-home dinner date, stargazing at the beach, i don’t think you guys understand. they’re in fucking love, cuddles, loving kisses, comforting intimacy, silly jokes and happy giggles, they share a blanket, he's a cutie, but also way too hot to handle, making out, neck kisses, the rest of the warnings are for the smut, rough but also soft Dom!Jungkook, sub!Reader, she's deep in safe subspace, he's so greedy for her orgasms, thigh humping, use of leather handcuffs, he is pierced & tattooed, lingerie kink, perfume kink, ass spanking, hole spanking with his cock, hair pulling, they use the traffic light system and he does something very sexy with it, besties i need him to run me over, he calls her princess & babygirl, praise, good girl kink, dirty talk, sexy possessive talk, oral in multiple positions (f.receiving) -> face sitting & propped up against pillows, vaginal fingering, strength kink, nipple sucking, he's both gentle & rough with her, multiple intense orgasms for her & him, he makes her squirt more than once, use of lube, he spits on her hole jjsj, passionate pronebone, rough doggy, he uses her handcuffs as leverage, the fact that he is both a head pusher and a hip puller, i need to be restrained, he's also an ass man, which means he will rub her hole as he fucks her and talks about fucking it, creampies, remember how i talked about wanting to include the Daddy kink at least once with this couple? this is the drabble, and as someone who normally has the Daddy kink on her no-no-list let me tell you that IT IS HOT, besties i'm losing it what is kook doing to me, cuddly & giggly aftercare, they're in love and kinky <3

Wordcount: 15.5k it's long but you sluts get a cute date AND kinky sex

a/n: you guys don't understand. you guys don't understand. jungkook consumes my every thought. fuck istfg it's so hard being a jungkook stan. i fucking blame him and his recent attidute. like, i always knew he is a greedy lover but it's escalating. this man doesn't need the sheets to be wet after, he needs them to be SOAKED and i know that i'm right. i fucking can't take it anymore i need to be put down like a rabid animal. enjoy besties 🧡 ps: i apologise for the long warnings hahaha i always wanna make sure you guys KNOW what happens in my smut

You are genuinely obsessed with your husband. If there was ever a competition of wife most obsessed with her husband you would win it.

You love the way he looks when he just woke up, making breakfast in nothing but his briefs and his hair still a total mess. You love how he greets you in a groggy yet loving voice and how you always end up with him as your warm, toasty backpack as you listen to the morning radio and watch the sunlight catch in your window crystals.

You love the way he looks when he comes straight out of the shower, hair still damp and lower body hidden behind a towel. You love when he wears a face mask and how he always smells especially good during those post-shower moments where you cuddle into him and smell his skin.

You love the way he looks when he leaves for work, all well-put together and you love how he looks when he comes home again, just a little less well-put together. You love that he always greets you with a hug-kiss-combination and that he says goodbye the same way.

You love how he looks when he comes back from a work out or swim and how he always greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a nonchalant “the workout was especially good today. I feel like I can do anything” and how on most days, he gives you a little cocky flex of his muscles.

You love how he looks when he works in the garden, how he mows the lawn and cuts the scrubs, how he renovates the decking or sweeps the driveway.

You love how he looks when he works in the house, when he cleans or does laundry or cooks, when he does repairs and silly little tasks.

You love how he looks when he is relaxing next to you in nothing but scrubby sweats and a wrinkled shirt, when he is watching TV or sketching tattoos.

You love how he looks when he is cuddled up in bed ready for sleep. When his eyes are just a little droopier than usual and he takes ages to finish a sentence because he is so sleepy and yet he still wants to talk.

You love how he looks when he is eating and drinking and laughing and having fun. How he looks when he smiles, but also how he looks when he cries or gets angry.

You love him, you love him, you love how he is so perfectly himself in every single moment of life.

And tonight you can’t wait to have him with you again.

It was your turn to cook tonight because you weren’t working today while Jungkook had been busy with responsibilities since the early morning. So early in fact, that you missed out on post-wake-up-Jungkook. You missed out on so much.

Next to today being your free day, it was also a very special day. Bi-monthly date night. In theory, today’s theme would have been outdoor activities, but you and Jungkook agreed via text not to go out today and instead stay in.

Which was perfectly fine with you because it meant that you could cook his favourite food and prepare a cozy evening. You love cooking for him. It brings you a lot of joy to prepare something yummy and to know that he finds happiness through delicious food.

And tonight, you made it look especially pretty. You even decorated the dining table and slipped into one of Jungkook’s favourite dresses, wearing the jewellery he got for you throughout your years together.

You are just about to put the last finishing touches on the plating when the door to the garage opens and closes.

“Sweetie! I’m home!”

“In the kitchen!” you tell him, feeling giddy in excitement.

You work quickly to bring the food to the table, managing just in time before Jungkook already enters the kitchen.

He is smiling the second he lays eyes on you, looking dishevelled from a long day and carrying a bouquet of flowers and a box of cake from Seokjin’s diner.

“Wow look at you, you’re beautiful”, he says as he places the cake on the island counter. He meets you in the middle, allowing you to pull him down as you throw yourself around his neck. He snakes his arm around your waist, caressing your lower back as happy giggles leave him, “happy date night, sweetheart.”

“Happy date night, Kookie”, you are talking into the crook of his neck, swaying your bodies from side to side. He smells like outside and motor grease because he helped Hoseok in the garage today with some bike repairs, “how was your day?”

“Long and exhausting, but not bad. I’m happy to be home with you.”

“I’m proud of you, baby. You managed today”, you praise him which makes him giggle and squeeze you, “and I made you food because I love you.”

Jungkook sways with you, resting his chin on your shoulder while his eyes drink in everything you did. They lower more and more as your presence is relaxing him immensely.

“You made my favourite”, he says, smiling.

“Mhm yeah I did. It’s date night after all.”

“I love you, baby”, he says and tugs you closer, “mhm and you’re wearing my favourite dress. Sweetie, you’re looking too good to be true”, he says and runs his hand to your ass to grab it and squeeze. He doesn’t do it with an ulterior motive in mind. Grabbing, squeezing and slapping your butt is merely one of Jungkook’s love languages. It’s as normal with him as giving cheek kisses.

“I dressed up for you”, you say

“I’m so blessed. Shit, I can’t believe I got lucky enough to marry you. You’re the most beautiful woman, ___”, he says and hums, wrapping you up in a strong hug as his lips attack your cheek with the biggest smooch in humankind. It makes you giggle and squeak because it feels so good to be adored by him.

He steps back afterwards, keeping his hand on your hip as he guides the flowers into your vision.

“For my one true love.”

“Gosh, Kookie. Thank you so much. I love them”, you accept them with a fluttering heart, inspecting them giddily, “oh my god, my favourites. There’s so many of my favourites in the bouquet!”

“Do you like it? The flower lady said that they’re one of the last of the season. I would have gotten more, but she didn’t have any more.”

“I love them. Oh, I love them so much. Thank you so, so much”, you say and lean in for a kiss.

The kiss lasts around two seconds and then Jungkook breaks it again. He licks his lips, covering his mouth with his hand.

“I feel like I’ve got bad breath, sorry”, he says.

“No, it’s okay. You’ve had worse”, you assure him.

“Wow, that’s reassuring”, he jokes, breathing into his own hand to check, “it’s bad, isn’t it? Sorry, I didn’t eat or drink anything today.”

“You just taste hungry, it’s fine”, you tell him and giggle, “I gotta put the flowers into water. Get comfy and start eating already, sweetie.”

Jungkook smiles, “I will. Just gotta hop in the shower quickly. It’ll take five minutes. I hope you don’t mind. I feel really disgusting.”

“No, I don’t mind. I already planned in your shower in my schedule”, you say, making him chuckle.

“Thank you, baby”, he says as he leaves the kitchen, “I got Seokjin’s cheesecake for dessert.”

“I know, I saw. Thank you so much”, you call after him as you store the cake box he put on the kitchen island in the fridge for now.

Jungkook comes back looking as handsome as ever. He changed out of his work clothes into some jeans and a jeans shirt which he kept unbuttoned to show off the white t-shirt underneath. He also styled his hair a little and brushed his teeth.

“Ooh look at you”, you say and whistle.

“Thank you, thank you”, Jungkook says, striking a pose, “I tried”, he says and turns to show off his butt, “look at my ass”, he says, looking over his shoulder.

“Gadyam that ass is to die for”, you say in a funny accent, whistling passionately to really get the message across.

“Yeah, right?” he slaps his own ass.

“The real cake’s your ass, baby.”

Jungkook laughs, stumbling because of it. You snicker, scrunching your nose.

“You look so handsome, Kookie”, you say.

“Yeah, heh”, he lets out a soft giggle, touching the side of his neck, “thanks.”

“Now look at the food please. I worked so hard on it”, you say, pushing him to the dining table gently.

“Uuuh show me pretty food”, he coos, doing a little dance as he gets shoved to the table. He lets you sit him down, looking at the food intently, “wow darling, this is the prettiest plate I ever saw. I don’t wanna touch it ‘cause I’ll ruin it.”

You give his shoulders a gentle massage, bouncing on the spot excitedly, “no try it. Try it.”

Jungkook cuts off a piece of the perfectly grilled meat, dips it in some sauce and guides it to his lips. He eats it deliciously, frowning the deepest frown instantly.

“Mhm”, he exhales, dropping against you in a dramatic faint. He keeps his eyes close, chewing deliciously as his frown lines grow.

His reactions to good food will always make you snicker. He’s so adorable.

“Like it?”

Jungkook looks up at you, frowning at you. He nods his head.

“It’s amazing. Thank you baby, I love it”, he says with a full mouth.

“I’m happy to hear that”, you say, smooching his forehead. You give his shoulders one last squeeze and then hurry to your spot. You picked the chair at the end of the table and next to Jungkook so you could be close but still look at each other.

You pull it out halfway and then Jungkook jumps up.

“Wait! Let me”, he exclaims, snatching the chair from you.

“Oh? Well, thank you good sir”, you snicker, letting him help you with sitting down.

“Of course my beautiful lady”, he says and fixes the chair for you. He touches your shoulders, running his hands down your arms as he leans in for a loving kiss to the side of your neck.

You tilt your head, allowing him access. His lips are soft, his piercings tickle your skin, his content purr swirls over your neck.

“You’re wearing perfume”, he rasps, dragging his nose up and down your neck while his fingers feel up your upper arms.

“It’s date night.”

“Fuck baby, I feel like I gotta do more. You’re looking like a goddess and smelling like heaven and I’m over here looking like shit”, he says.

“No, you don’t. You look handsome.”

“I smell like grease. I washed my arms so thoroughly, but I still smell like it.”

“It’s a sexy smell. Don’t worry”, you say, “I like it when you work in Hobi’s garage. It’s hot.”

“Mhm, you’re too good to me”, he says, kissing the shell of your ear, “if you let me, I’m gonna make you see stars later”, he whispers, biting your earlobe gently and sending shivers down your spine with it.

“Don’t talk like this”, you whisper.

Jungkook chuckles, “why not?”

“Because it’s making me shy.”

“You are not shy, come on baby”, he laughs, “you like it. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

“Whatever”, you murmur, “eat your food, you sweet talker.”

“Mhm, I will. Food’s amazing.”

Jungkook eats with a frown, humming and moaning in enjoyment. His reactions make cooking so worthwhile. Preparing food wouldn’t be the same without the aspect of Jungkook aggressively enjoying it afterwards. You can’t stop watching him, feeling your heart flutter.

You are truly so obsessed with your husband.

“Did you finish the bike today?” you ask him, fighting the urge to reach out and trace his features.

“Yeah, we did. Wah baby, you have no idea what a struggle that was”, he says and purses his lips in a pout.

“Yeah? What happened?”

“The oil fuse acted up and we had to disassemble so much more than we initially planned. Wah and then the new one didn’t wanna fit, I seriously. Seriously”, he squeaks the last word to really pronounce how much he wanted to do it, “wanted to throw the whole bike.”

“Wah that sounds annoying. Did you fix the issue?”

“Mhm of course”, he is smirking cockily, lifting his brows, “your hubby knows what’s up with bikes, ‘course I fixed the issue.”

“You’re so cool”, you say, ruffling his hair gently, “I married a genius.”

He scrunches his nose, wiggling his shoulders happily, “yeah, heh”, he is talking cutely again, gazing at you with sparkling eyes.

“And the tattoo? Did she really come?”

“Mh-hm yeah”, he nods his head, “she got it and then we even agreed on a second appointment for another tattoo.”

“Oh? That’s nice. In the same style?”

“Yup, she wants it to match. I already have ideas for it, but I can’t draw anymore today.”

“Course not, it’s date night”, you say, nudging his cheek.

“Yeah obviously that’s the main reason”, he says, making you chuckle. He smiles and shoves a big bite of the amazing food into his mouth. He chews happily, washing it down with another bite. He really loves the food. He will never take it for granted when you cook. He feels so lucky to be yours, he really does.

He swallows the food and takes a sip of the beer, then talks.

“What’s your plan for tonight?” he asks.

“I was thinking dinner first and then we take dessert down to the beach and do some stargazing.”

“I love it”, he says, smiling dreamily.

“You do?”

“Mhm yeah”, he brushes the back of his hand down your cheek, ending it with a gentle touch to your upper lip.

“Don’t. I’m wearing lipstick.”

“Oop. Sorry”, he gasps, pulling his finger away, “baby don’t wear lipstick, I mean you look beautiful and it fits you so fucking good, but what about the kissies?” he whines, making you laugh.

“As if you ever cared about getting lipstick on yourself. You can still get your kissies.”

“Yeah true”, he grins, looking at your lips. He moves in for a kiss, teasing you just a little by nibbling on your lower lip. He gives you a playful smirk as he moves back, letting his eyes run over your face, “you’re so pretty”, he says and eats a big bite of the food, “mhm and food’s amazing. Wah, so good.”

“You make me happy, you know?” you say and eat as well.

Jungkook smiles, “you make me happy too, baby.”

You clean the kitchen together before leaving for the beach. Jungkook is wiping the counters while you busy yourself with loading the dishwasher. Except that you get as far as loading the plates and one pot before Jungkook turns around at the noise of it.

“Baby, what are you doing?”

“Loading the dishwasher. We’re quicker together.”

“But you already cooked. Baby, don’t do that”, he laughs and hurries to you so he could hug you from behind and walk you away from the dishwasher this way. He blows raspberries on your neck as he does, making you belt out a squeaky laugh.

“Stop that, eek”, you squeal, fighting him with squirms.

Ones Jungkook easily manages. It results in him attacking your neck once again and for you to almost choke on your laughter.

He laughs, giving your neck a little bite to end it with. He twirls you in his arms and lifts you on top of the kitchen island. He runs his hands up your torso to cup your cheeks and squish them gently.

“That was so awful”, you laugh, wiping at your neck.

“No, it wasn’t. It was fun.”

“Says that person who did the slobbering.”

“Excuse me? I didn’t slobber”, he laughs, squishing your cheeks more vigorously.

You snicker, giving him a look which lets him know that you were teasing him. His eyes soften.

“My cutie”, he says, pulling you in for a kiss.

You sigh and touch his neck, hoping for so much more but getting nothing than a gentle peck. He puts distance between your faces, soothing over your face gently. His eyes spill over with adoration.

“Come back”, you say, pulling him close by the front of his shirt.

Jungkook lets you, grabbing your hips. He is smirking, studying your face.

“I want you to kiss me properly”, you say as you touch his undercut, “not just a stupid peck.”

“Mhm, I can do that”, he says in a seductive voice, leaning in for a proper kiss.

You sigh happily, keeping him close with your legs around his waist, while Jungkook increases the closeness by grabbing your ass. His hands feel so warm, gripping you with a comfortable strength.

You break the kiss with a soft tug on his lower lip, eliciting a happy purr from him.

“That was better”, you whisper, watching in delight how Jungkook gazes at your lips.

“Mhm yeah”, he rasps quietly, “it was pretty fucking good.”

“Yeah”, you giggle sweetly, wiping the lipstick from his lips, “now let’s go eat cake by the beach.”

“Wah baby, you’re mean. Kissing me like that and then expecting me to be normal.”

“Mh-hm yep. I’ve got what I wanted.”

“So you were just using me?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

Jungkook chuckles, squeezing your ass. His eyes sparkle, showing how into the flirting he is.

“I’ve got something waiting for you on the beach. Do you wanna see?”

“Oh? Another surprise?”

You give him a wiggle of your brows and a mischievous grin. Jungkook squeezes your butt in reaction, looking excited.

“Fine”, he chuckles, “let’s go eat cake by the beach.”

You hold hands as you walk through the garden, enjoying the mild night. You take the steps down to the beach, using the faint stair lights as your guidance. Jungkook holds your hand the entire way down, making you feel so much safer.

Once you are almost down by the beach, you turn. You grab Jungkook’s small waist, beaming up at him.

“Close your eyes.”

“Now? On the stairs?”

“Yeah.”

“But baby, what if I fall?”

“Trust me. Imma keep you safe. Please Googie.”

“Okay?” Jungkook says and closes his eyes, “baby, you gotta hold my hands now.”

“Here grab ‘em.”

“Where are you? Baby”, he whines making you laugh.

“Right. Here”, you intertwine your fingers, “you doofus, stop panicking.”

“It’s scary stuff, good ma’am”, he jokes, eliciting yet another laugh from you. You won’t ever stop laughing at his antics. He is truly the funniest person alive.

“Just follow me. There are two more steps and then we’ll be in the sand. There we go, just keep walking. One more step, careful you’re at the edge, okay step down. And we’re down.”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“No. Follow my voice, I’ll guide you.”

“You’re making it so dramatic. What did you prepare?”

“Something. Almost there. Aaand open your eyes.”

Jungkook obeys, letting out a loud gasp instantly.

“Wow baby, this is beautiful!”

You set up a picnic blanket on the sand. You didn’t dare to go too close to the water because you know how high the ocean can rise overnight. Instead, you picked out a dry spot close to the steps, using fairylights to illuminate the night.

You pick up a vase of flowers from the blanket, presenting it to him.

“We had the same idea. Happy date night, baby”, you say.

“You got me flowers? Baby. Thank you”, Jungkook gasps in a breathy voice, accepting the flowers with gleaming eyes, “they’re beautiful, wow baby.”

“Do you like them?”

“Of course I do. Wow, thank you”, Jungkook drapes his arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss. And another kiss on your cheek with a loud, “mwuah.”

You giggle, rubbing his chest gently.

“Thank you so much. Wah, my heart’s racing like crazy.”

“I know. I can feel it”, you scrunch your nose happily, “wanna eat the cake now?”

“Yeah. Wow, I still can’t believe you got me flowers. We can put our bouquets next to each other so they’re a couple too.”

“That would be so cute. Yes, let’s do that.”

You and he get comfortable on the blanket. Jungkook places the vase in the sand while you open the cake box, revealing two pieces of cake. Your fairylights and the stair lights give you enough vision.

“Mhhm that looks amazing”, you say, handing Jungkook his fork.

“Yeah, it looks yummy. Uh! Uh-uh”, he stops you from poking your cake, fighting off your fork gently.

“What’s with you?” you ask in a chuckle.

“Let me”, he says and breaks off a piece.

“Fine. A woman can’t do anything here.”

“Exactly”, he says, making you snort and laugh in amusement.

You watch him with fond eyes. He lifts the piece to his lips and kisses it, before guiding it to your mouth. You accept it with giggles, looking deep into his eyes because he is enchanting you like crazy. Once the piece of cake is in your mouth, Jungkook leans closer and kisses your lips.

You and he chuckle into it, ending it with a gentle nose rub.

“Thanks”, you say, chewing the cake.

“Mhm ‘course. My queen shouldn’t have to work”, he says and pokes the cake with his fork. He breaks off a piece and eats it, furrowing his brows in approval.

Your heart flutters. You can’t take it anymore. You love this man so much. You close the distance so you can fall into his side and rest your cheek on his shoulder, letting out an almost girly giggle as your eyes gaze up at him.

Jungkook cranes his neck to kiss your forehead, then rests his head against yours. He drapes his arm over you, rubbing your skin gently.

“God baby, you’re freezing”, he gasps, “do you want my shirt?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“No. No, it’s not okay. Come on, take my shirt”, he says, scrambling to get it off. He gets on his knees behind you and drapes it over your shoulders, smoothing his hands down your arms.

The shirt smells like him. His warmth lingering in the jeans fabric seeps into your body. You weren’t even cold and yet it still feels so much better with his shirt hugging you.

“How’s that?”

You crane your neck to look at him.

“Better. Thank you.”

“Mhm”, he leans down to kiss your forehead.

You enjoy it with closed eyes and a racing heart.

Jungkook sits down next to you again after the forehead kiss, breaking off a piece of cheesecake to eat.

“No”, you push it off his fork.

“Hey, not cool”, Jungkook laughs.

“Let me”, you say and pick up the piece. You guide it to your lips for a kiss before feeding it to Jungkook.

“You used my tricks. That’s cheating”, he giggles and gets his complains kissed away. Two kisses on his lips and one on his jawline. He leans into the jawline kiss, closing his eyes.

“My king shouldn’t have to work”, you whisper and kiss his favourite spot on his jawline

“Mhm, you feel good”, he purrs.

“Mhm and you smell good”, you whisper, giving him one last kiss before sitting back again. You break off a piece of the sweet cake and eat it.

Jungkook glances at you, shuddering visibly.

“You made tingles go down my back”, he confesses, “that spot feels good.”

“Yeah?”

He nods his head, shoving a piece of cake into his mouth afterwards. He chews with his eyes just slightly widened.

“I liked it too.”

“Yeah, my sweetie”, Jungkook murmurs and relaxes with a sigh. He lets his eyes drift to the dark ocean, enjoying another piece of cake as he does.

You do the same, eating it while your heart is going haywire in your chest. You stay like this until you finish the cake. You can’t take the heart palpitations anymore. You glance at him. Jungkook notices and meets your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing, just making sure that you’re real.”

“And? Am I?” he is smiling.

“I don’t know yet”, you say, leaning closer, “I don’t know if I’ll ever really believe that I’m living my life. It’s so perfect.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking epic.”

“And you’re so perfect.”

“Come on, I’m far from perfect”, he flusters.

“You’re perfect to me. Being with you just doesn’t lose its spark.”

“Yeah, I feel the same”, he says, draping his arm around you, “I think it’s really fucking amazing that we both put so much effort into our relationship. It means a lot to me because I want to put work into us, so it feels good that you reciprocate it.”

“Of course I do. It’s a lot work, but I’m not exhausted by it at all and I enjoy it so much. It’s work I look forward to and I get the most joy out of.”

“I enjoy it as well, sweetie. It never feels exhausting. I actually really love it.”

“Yes, I love it too.”

You cuddle into him. He rests his head against yours.

“I love date nights. They’re the best.”

“They are”, he agrees, “I’ve already got ideas for outdoor date night.”

“You do?”

“Mh-hm. What do you think about burgers at Seokjin’s and then bowling down in Saint Marco?”

“Yes, I’d love that. But we gotta take pics at the photo booth this time around.”

“Yeah, right”, he chuckles, “still can’t believe that we didn’t do it last time.”

“Yeah we were idiots.”

“Yeah”, he chuckles and kisses the crown of your head.

You and he share a few snuggles and enjoy the quiet of the beach. The waves come and go in quiet gurgles. The far away road is louder than the ocean right now. The sound of a bike passes you by. You wonder if it was one of your friends. Maybe Taehyung is on his way home, maybe Jimin finished his shift at the club. Perhaps Yoongi is on his way to his husband, bringing flowers like you know him. Or maybe it was a stranger passing through town. Whoever it might have been, you hope that they arrive safely at their destination.

“I’m so obsessed with you Kook, it’s literally mental”, you break the silence and laugh, “you still manage to give me butterflies.”

“Good, cause you’re givin’ me butterflies too. Like, so many.”

You smile, craning your neck to look at him. He meets your eyes and smiles, leaning in for a kiss. He tastes like cheesecake and smiles. You taste the same. The kiss is so nice. So perfect. So amazing.

Being with each other is the best thing in the world.

You stub each other’s noses to end the kiss, turning your attention to the dark ocean afterwards. The stars are bright tonight, courtesy of the moon missing as it is currently a new moon.

You glance at him again. You thought that you can handle those tingles by now, but you can’t. You fall into him again, hugging his waist and nuzzling your nose into his upper arm as little giggles leave you.

Jungkook lets it happen with a fluttering heart.

“You’re so touchy today”, he says, draping his arm over you.

“I just love you so much”, you say, swaying him from side to side aggressively.

“I love you too, sweetie”, Jungkook chuckles, letting it happen. It ends with you and him falling down onto the blanket. The cake box was thankfully empty because you sent it flying with a clumsy kick.

“Careful”, Jungkook laughs.

“Sorry, god, lost balance”, you snicker.

“I figured”, Jungkook giggles and rolls to his back, staring up into the dark sky with his hair tousled on the blanket. You do the same, reaching above your head to turn off the fairy lights. The automatic stair lights already turned off by now, so you and he find yourselves in total darkness

“Woah, dark”, Jungkook gasps.

“Sorry, should have warned you. We can see the stars better this way.”

“Yeah right”, Jungkook settles into the blanket, “I love this”, he says and goes to hold your hand.

“Me too”, you answer him and hold his hand as tightly as possible.

You don’t feel like you age with Jungkook. Of course you and he grow older and it’s the best feeling in the world to know that you do it together, but you don’t feel older with him. When you are with him, you will always feel young. And when you hold hands, you know that just for a short moment in history you and he can actually stop time.

Only the moving stars and the singing ocean are proof that time never stops. It’s okay though, because you have Jungkook and Jungkook has you. A cool breeze swirls over your bodies.

“Brrr”, Jungkook lets out and cuddles into you, “I’m cold. Gimme sum of that shirt”, he says as he tries to wiggle himself under it.

“Wait Kook, I’ve got a second blanket”, you laugh and sit up to snatch it.

“You really came prepared, didn’t you?”

“Of course. It’s date night”, you say and unfold the blanket with the help of the wind, “and we need something to stay warm for stargazing”, you add as you lie back down.

You hand Jungkook one end of the blanket and together, you manage to cover your bodies with it. Jungkook wiggles happily, rolling to his side so he could drape his arm over your stomach and kiss your cheek.

“So cozy”, he mumbles, kissing your cheek again.

You nuzzle closer, “yeah, cozy and warm.”

“Mhm, yeah”, Jungkook is whispering as he can’t seem to stop kissing your cheek and jawline. He gives you a soft squeeze, exhaling against your neck, “you smell so good.”

You lean into his kisses, closing your eyes halfway. You reach up to run your hands along the arm he has around you, sharing in comfort this way. It feels so nice to be with each other.

“No but seriously, how do you smell so nice?” he whispers.

“I put on perfume.”

“I know, but it’s insane how good you smell like”, he nuzzles his nose into you to the point where it squishes, “I can’t get enough of it.”

You giggle, moving away just a little because the movement tickled. Jungkook soothes it with kisses.

“And you’re so pretty in your dress”, he continues to fanboy, caressing your side with his fingertips, “and the jewellery fits you so well and then your makeup looks flawless. Wah baby, you’re seriously making my heart race.”

You giggle, feeling like bursting in happiness. It feels so good to have your effort appreciated. You feel even prettier than you already did.

Jungkook sighs happily, cuddling closer.

“My wifey”, he whispers, squeezing you gently, “my lovely wifey.”

“Kookie oh god”, you squeal and overtaken by happiness, you roll over to attack his face with kisses. You squish his cheeks between your hands for it, making him giggle.

You have the upper hand for a second before Jungkook rolls you onto your back and scoops you up in his arms, attacking your face and neck with kisses and nuzzles.

You squeak at first but soon end up cackling in a rather unflattering manner. To Jungkook, it is the sweetest sound ever. This is what your true happiness sounds like. You couldn’t fake this even if you tried to.

“Mhm baby”, Jungkook stops his kisses, lifting his head. He’s got your hands pinned above your head, clutched tightly in his fingers. You gaze up at him, feeling so safe like this. Jungkook studies your features. They look so pretty, “fuck baby, you’ve got me wanting to act up. I love it when you laugh.”

“Koo”, you whisper, squeezing his hands.

This nickname. Jungkook knows that it only falls from your lips when he’s got you feeling submissive. It’s during those moments when he made you feel safe and giddy and taken care of. It won’t ever lose its spark for him.

“Mhm, baby?” he asks, placing his elbows on each side of your head. Your arms stretch further above your head, his fingers tighten around your hands.

“I don’t know”, you breathe, looking at his pierced lips, “just wanted to say it.”

“You’re so cute”, he whispers and steals a kiss. You make sure he doesn’t leave by chasing him.

Jungkook allows you to kiss him and play with his lip piercings. You love to trace them with your tongue, suck them between your lips and gently tug on them with your teeth. He loves when you do that. It feels so good to him, getting him all riled up for you.

The blanket is keeping you warm. Jungkook is halfway on top of you, having one of his legs between yours. The ocean is rushing in the background, but the only sounds you really take in, are Jungkook’s little noises. He is such a vocal kisser, always letting you know that he loves it. His hands are pinning you down, his grip is so gentle yet strong.

You break the kiss because you needed to squirm and look at him, “Koo”, you keen quietly, rubbing your thighs against his leg. His jeans feel rough against your skin.

“Yes, princess?” Jungkook whispers in a raspy voice and his eyes gleaming in fondness.

You giggle, growing smaller in safe submission. Jungkook chuckles deeply, lowering his eyes halfway.

“My princess”, he rasps, eliciting another giggle from you.

You can’t explain what he makes you feel. It’s a sensation deep in your chest. Your heart races and you can genuinely sense a giddiness around it. Safety and comfort fills you as well. And the desire to be completely and utterly his’. All you know is that you love this feeling and that tonight it feels especially good.

“Koo, I wanna kiss you.”

“I wanna kiss you too, princess”, Jungkook says and abandons your wrists for the sake of cradling your cheeks. You cup his face instantly, pulling him into a kiss.

Jungkook purrs happily, finding your rhythm without problems. He kissed you enough times by now that he knows exactly how you like it.

Your hands slide to the back of his head, feeling up his prickly undercut. Jungkook moans softly, tracing your upper lip with his tongue to let you know that he likes the touch. You like it as well, repeating it over and over again.

You witnessed most of Jungkook’s hair phases. You witnessed his permed hair, his short hair, his long hair and every length in between. He currently keeps his hair short and with an undercut. You always help him keep it neat. It feels so good under your fingertips. Prickly when you dance them up and soft when you move them down again.

Jungkook is moaning a lot which makes it feel even better. Bear in mind that his sounds aren’t of completely horny nature. No. Your husband also moans because of yummy food or a relaxing massage. His noises right now merely meant that he is enjoying this as much as he can.

He rolls hips into your thigh, purring deeply. His knee rubs against your middle this way, sending warmth through you. Okay, perhaps there is also desire in his noises.

“Fuck baby, you’re perfect”, Jungkook rasps and breaks the kiss for the sake of worshiping your neck, “my perfect princess. Mhm, babygirl. My babygirl”, he murmurs as his puffy lips dance over your neck and jawline.

“Koo”, you sigh, “Koo, I wanna go back.”

“Yes?”

You nod your head.

“If that’s so. Come, princess”, he says and sits back on his heels, pulling you up with him. Like this, your legs are around him and he can touch your upper arms.

He is so much taller than you in this position, keeping your eyes locked on his face by doing nothing but existing.

“My pretty girl”, he whispers, caressing your cheek.

You giggle, “Koo, stop teasing. I wanna leave.”

“Fine, okay”, he laughs, “let’s go.”

You and he pack up together and go back to your house, holding hands as you do. You leave the blanket outside, wiping off your feet before entering. Jungkook carries the empty cheesecake boxes while you carry the blanket you used to cover yourselves with. You discard it on the armchair by the glass door while Jungkook leaves for the kitchen.

You and he meet in the hallway.

“Come with me”, you say, taking his hands.

“More surprises?” he gasps.

“Yeah”, you turn so you are facing him as you walk, “in my room.”

“Baby, goddamn it. You’re doing too much. My heart can handle only that much”, he gushes, making your own heart flutter.

“You’ll love it.”

“Of course I will. God, com’ere you perfect woman you”, he says and sweeps you off your feet to kiss you.

You giggle into the kisses, squeezing your legs around his waist as he carries you to your room.

You left the door open so it’s easy for Jungkook to enter the room without accidentally knocking you into the door. He knows that you and he arrived because his feet know the layout of your home blindly. The floors in your room are softer because you have most of it covered with vintage rugs. He sets you down, snaking his arms around you as his right hand naturally grabs your ass and squeezes. He hums into the kiss, tingling like crazy when your fingers scratch his undercut greedily.

“We gotta stop”, you murmur into the kiss.

“Why?” he asks into the kiss.

“The surprise.”

“Mhm you gotta break it”, he says and goes to kiss your neck, “I can’t stop without your help. Mhm baby, my baby”, he adds as his lips suck spots of sensitivity onto your skin.

“Koo”, you sigh, melting in his arm. You don’t want him to stop. He feels so good. Your entire body tingles and feels electric at the same time. You don’t want to stop, but you have to. It will be worth it. You push at his chest gently, breaking the kisses this way.

Jungkook stumbles back, licking his puffy lips hungrily. He touches your waist, gazing at you longingly.

“Close your eyes please”, you tell him.

“Fuck, you’re messing with me”, he says in a deep chuckle, but obeys. He even covers them with his hands as he naturally begins to play with his own lip piercings.

You work quickly to get ready. You don’t want to stop kissing either, so being apart from him is just as torturous for you than it is for him. You take off your dress and the shirt he borrowed you, but keep the jewellery on. You check to see if the set of lingerie you picked out sits nicely on your body and then get on top of the mattress. He has his back turned to you

“Okay, open your eyes”, you tell him.

Jungkook obeys, “huh? where are you?” he asks and looks around the room.

“Here.”

He turns.

“Holy fuck baby”, he gasps, falling to his knees instantly, “look at you. What are you doing? Baby”, he asks in an enchanted laugh and his hands cradling your cheeks instantly.

You kneeled down on the mattress, presenting a pair of black leather handcuffs to him.

“Look at you. Holy fuck, look at you. Baby, fuck babygirl”, he babbles as he lets his hands run over your body hungrily, “is this a new set? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Yeah, it’s new. Do you like it?”

“I fucking love it. Holy shit, you’re so fucking beautiful. babygirl, please just”, he comes closer and squeezes your waist, “holy fuck, just holy fuck.”

He exhales shakily and finally looks at the handcuffs you present perfectly on the palms of your hands.

“What’s that?” he asks and picks them up.

You turn your back to him and present your wrists to him behind your back. You make sure to arch so he can have the perfect view of your ass and just how little fabric is covering it.

Jungkook growls hungrily, placing his big hand on your hip while his lips begin nipping on your shoulder desperately.

“Did you wear this under the dress?” he asks.

“Yeah”, you sigh, rolling your head back to rest it against him.

“Holy fuck and I had no idea. Oh my fucking god, I might pass out”, he gets out and rolls his crotch against your ass, “I’m gonna fuck you so fucking hard, babygirl. You’ve brought this upon yourself, I hope you’re aware of it.”

“Yeah”, you whimper, meeting his needy grinds, “Koo please tie me up. I need to be punished.”

“Yeah you do”, Jungkook rasps in his sexy Dom voice, biting your neck gently, “my sexy woman, fuck I could eat you up”, he adds and breaks away from you with a heavy heart. He wants to keep kissing you and grinding against you, but he has some hands to tie.

He works skillfully. Those handcuffs aren’t foreign to him. He tied you up with them a hundred times before and had the honour to be tied up with them just as many times. They’re a staple in your sexlife and up until now, they haven’t disappointed yet. He tightens them just enough that you feel pressure around your wrists, but not tight enough to cause pain. He checks the tightness with a finger asking you if you were feeling comfortable to which you said that you are.

He glides his hands to the back of your head. Your hair tangles with his fingers. He pushes, pressing you face first into the mattress. You let it happen with a needy moan and your ass chasing him in needy wiggles. He keeps his hand on your head while he undresses with his other hand. He makes sure that you can see it happening. His tattooed, bejeweled hand is working his belt open and later works on unbuttoning his jeans, all while his fingers are keeping a tight grip on your head. The aspect of power and feeling so vulnerable in his presence makes you dripping fucking wet. Jungkook slips his jeans down and somehow wiggles out of them.

“Stay down”, he orders in the end as he needs to use both hands to get them over his thighs. They’re huge thighs. No wonder he needs help.

You don’t even think about disobeying him. You rarely want to disobey him because you have such a great time being his sub that all you want is to receive, receive and receive all his attention. Jungkook is so smitten for you that he will be rough with you when you beg for it, so you don’t really feel like acting up. Not when you can simply beg for a punishment.

Jungkook keeps his briefs on. Tight Calvins, which seem so tiny now that his cock has grown so much. His bulge is huge, having grown all the way down his left leg as this is where he stuffed his cock. He takes off his shirt and throws it to the side.

Then he finally closes in on you again, connecting his crotch with your ass as he bends over. He buries his hand back in your hair, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear as he talks. His chest is pressed into your back, his nipple piercings are rubbing against you.

“You’re such a good girl. I didn’t even have to repeat my orders”, he rasps as he continuously grinds into your ass, “we’re gonna work with the traffic light system tonight ‘cause I need you to keep me in fucking check. Understood?”

“Yes”, you keen, wiggling your hands just to get a feel for his abs.

He tingles at your touch, rewarding you with a flex of his abs.

“Good girl. Let’s practice right now, okay?”

You nod your head as best as his tight grip allows you to.

“Good girl. I’ll ask you how you feel right now, then I’ll give you five spanks because you still need to get your punishment and then you’ll tell me again how you feel. Are we understood?”

“Yes”, your voice trembled as you spoke.

“Good girl. How do you-”

“Green”, you fall into his voice.

Jungkook chuckles, kissing your cheek, “fine, seven times. Naughty girl, falling into my question like that”, he rasps and straightens up. He runs his hand up and down your ass, holding you in place with his other hand on your hip.

You moan even if he is barely doing anything. You are so fucking needy for him. He knows exactly how to get your mind fucked. Making a play out of using the traffic light system is only something your husband could think of and it’s making you so needy that you want to keep chanting “green, green, green” over and over again. But you don’t. Instead you arch your back and wait for the first spank with your lungs barely wanting to work.

Jungkook lifts his hands and lands the first spank of seven.

“Ah”, you moan loudly and tremble. So much pressure released with this spank, but there is still so much left that it barely felt like relief.

Jungkook lifts his hand again. The connection is rough, forcing your ass to jiggle and you to moan. By the time Jungkook lands his third spank, you realise that he doesn’t relieve you of any of the pressure, on the contrary it is growing with each spank. With the fourth spank, you are fucking your hips back against nothing, moaning squeakily because the movement makes your panties grind against your clit and that feels so good right now.

“Stay still”, Jungkook orders, increasing his grip on your hip, “I didn’t tell you to squirm for me, did I?”

“Koo please”, you beg, arching your back.

“Yeah, that’s better. Keep arching your back, it makes your ass look so fucking perfect, babygirl”, he praises and rewards you with two consecutive spanks on your ass. Harsh and rough. Burning heat remains, pain crawls over your skin and stays because he keeps his hot palm pressed against you.

Only one more left. You wiggle your hands, spilling another moan. You are so sad that it’s almost over. He could spank you for the next hour and you wouldn’t grow bored.

Jungkook lifts his hand and lands the last spank, ending it by slipping his hand between your legs to rub your pussy over your panties. He does it with enough pressure to force your legs to tremble and for your voice to get incredibly squeaky as you moan.

“There we go. We did it”, he speaks as if he isn’t currently rubbing your pussy to a forced orgasm and making you shake like crazy in the process. His left hand still keeps gripping your hip to keep you in place. It’s like he isn’t even aware of what he is doing to you, “now tell me how you feel, babygirl.”

“Green”, you whine, “green, please Koo please.”

“There we go, such a good girl and so wet too”, he praises, slipping his hand away to instead grab your ass and part it for him. The fabric is small enough that he can see your hole this way. The most vulnerable part is still covered by your panties, but the pretty surrounding area is on full display just for him. You are clenching it needily, writhing in his hands.

“How was that for practice? Do you think you can do the traffic light system, babygirl?” he asks as he studies your hole. He is so obsessed with it, fighting the urge to lick you until you are soft enough that he can fill you with his cock. He shouldn’t be greedy. Not tonight.

“Yes, I can. Oh god, you’re hurting me”, you whine and sob softly.

“Needy?” he asks with a smirk.

“Yeah, please Koo please. Hurts. Wanna be fucked, please.”

He chuckles deeply and pushes your ass closed again slowly, “cute”, he says and gives your buttocks one last squeeze for good measures. He takes your panties off, making you moan with it. He doesn’t say anything to it however, which drives you so much more insane. It feels so nonchalantly to him while you are almost breaking apart. He places your soaked panties aside and studies you for a moment. Your pussy is wet and swollen and your hole is finally exposed to him completely.

“So pretty”, is all he says and then he breaks away from behind you to instead drop in the sheets beside you. You lift your head, looking at him with confusion. He wiggles to get comfortable and sighs once he is happy with his position, then he meets your eyes.

“Do you want me, mhm?” he taunts.

“Yes please”, you beg, sitting up so you can squeeze your legs together, “oh god, Koo. I feel so sensitive.”

“I know princess, I saw how you were shaking”, he taunts and smirks. He nods his head, “go sit on my face. I want you to.”

“Koo, oh god”, you get out. You love to obey this order even if it is hard to do so. You are so wobbly on your legs already and all he did was spank you and rub your clothed pussy. Yes, you are aware that he is doing so much more than that. The entire evening and the way he is taking control right now is adding to how wobbly you feel.

Thankfully for you, Jungkook helps you get on top of him, holding your hips safely.

“There we go”, he says, snuggling his head into the pillow as he helps you with those last few inches, “closer, babygirl.”

You obey, feeling your pussy throb in anticipation. You are pretty sure that you already dripped onto his face. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind, on the contrary. He moans as he turns his head and buries his face in your inner thigh. He moans again, inhaling hungrily.

“Fuck baby, you smell so good”, he purrs, nuzzling his nose into your inner thigh deeper. He inhales and exhales, “did you put perfume there too?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Baby”, he growls, grabbing your hips to squeeze them desperately, “fuck, I’m gonna go insane. You perfect woman you. Fucking sit on my face, babygirl. I’m actually serious.”

You relax just enough that he can finally tug you on top of his face. He growls deeply, welcoming your sweet pussy with an eager mouth. He goes gentle on normal days, guiding you into the sensations with soft kisses and tender licks. Tonight he doesn’t care about etiquette. Tonight he forces you into the sensation with eager sucks and hungry, wet licks, sending shakes through your legs.

“Sensitive”, you squeak out, scrunching your face, “Koo, I’m sensitive.”

“I know”, he is growling, “try to breathe babygirl”, he orders and continues his starved licks. He knows that you can take them. You just like to whine for the sake of it. Of course you’re sensitive, but you’re his good girl. You can take it. You have to take it because Jungkook can’t go slow tonight. You’ve got him desperate in desire.

You put so much effort into tonight. Way much effort than he anticipated for and he doesn’t take it for granted. He feels overwhelmed in love for you, he wants to rile you up just to make you cum over and over again until you physically can’t have another orgasm again. Only feasting on you like a starved man helps with it.

You squirm above him, tugging at the handcuffs.

“Koo, I’m sensitive”, you whimper breathily, scrunching your eyes closed, “ah, mhm, ah plea- ah.”

He growls hungrily, grabbing your waist to keep you down on his mouth. He loves it when you shake and he especially loves it when you’re sitting on him as it happens. Your thighs are squeezing his head, worsening his hearing because they are over his ears. You feel so soft and warm that Jungkook hopes you squeeze him even harder. Your weight is perfect on his face to give him a sense of disorientation. He knows that he’s on your mattress, but if he didn’t have visual confirmation beforehand, he would have no idea where he is because currently all he sees, hears, feels, tastes and smells is you. This is the best kind of sensory distortion he could wish for.

Jungkook sucks your clit between his lips and begins suckling on it with deep moans rumbling in his chest. Your thighs shake around his head, you keen desperately.

It feels like burning electricity to have him eat you out. It is hard to breathe and yet you do way too much of it. You are panting, moaning between your breaths because this is all you can do. He already messed you up so much beforehand. His spanks, his words, his attitude and he nonchalant pussy rubbing he did, everything already made you so sensitive that you could have orgasmed right then and there. So to have his hot, dripping mouth make angry love to your pussy feels like too much.

“Sensitive, oh god”, you get out and then another wave of pleasure shakes your body, “Koo, oh god…”

The truth is, you love when he’s like that. Of course you love when he eases you into the sensations, when he is gentle and takes his time. But there is something especially hot about Jungkook losing his composure and eating you out as if you were his last meal on earth. He gets so rough with it, so disrespectful and messy. He doesn’t care about how dirty he gets or how many marks of sensitivity he leaves on your body. He is stronger and during those moments he doesn’t shy away from showing you just how much stronger he is. And that he will use this strength to keep you pinned on top of his eager mouth until you give him what he wants.

“Oh god Koo”, you whimper, convulsing on top of his face as he finally releases your pulsating clit to lick it quickly. He managed to get her so swollen and engorged that each flick of his tongue rewrites your definition of pleasure. “I have to cum. I’m sorry, I can’t hold it.”

Jungkook moans into you. He doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t give you time to catch your footing. No, this man likes that you are losing yourself, making sure that you are losing yourself even quicker.

“You’re so unfair”, you choke out and fall over the edge, “Koo, ah! You’re so unfair, a-ah.”

You collapse into the pillows, bending over so you could reach them. But even in the new position, Jungkook makes sure to keep your pussy locked onto his mouth as to lick you through your orgasm, growling and moaning into you as his hands leave bruises deep under your skin.

“Koo please holy fuck, please”, you wail into the pillow, shaking uncontrollably.

He growls into you, gripping your hips tightly to make sure you don’t flee before he allows you. You need to know what kind of orgasms you get when you put so much effort into date night. He needs you to fucking know that the more work you put into it, the harder he’ll make you cum. This is your reward as much as it is your punishment because Jungkook is going crazy for you.

“Stop please”, you beg, “oh god, I can’t do that, ah!” you plead, writhing on top of his face when he doesn’t slow down even now that your orgasm became overstimulation. Your clit is throbbing. Each time he drags his wet tongue over it, you swear that you have to pass out.

Your legs shake for a few more moments and then strength genuinely forsakes you. You collapse onto him, sitting your full weight on his face.

“Mhmhm”, he lets out in surprise, lifting you off as best as possible.

“Sorry, ah”, you whimper, fleeing instantly. You sit down in the sheets next to him, looking at him with glassy eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine”, his voice is rough in the sexiest way, “just squished my nose, it didn’t hurt. Are you okay?”

“No, I’m embarrassed. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Hey”, he sits up and cups your face to pull you into a kiss. He is covered in your orgasm, feeding you your taste with sloppy, addictive tongue kisses.

He kisses you until he can hear you whimper again. He knows that he’s got you distracted and so he breaks the kiss with a soft tug on your lower lip.

“Are you quiet, mhm?” he asks.

You nod your head, looking at him with glassy, but happy eyes.

“Good. Now get comfy in the pillows. I’m not done with you.”

“Koo, oh god” you say, obeying happily. You rest back against the heap of pillows, shuffling your cuffed arms into a comfortable position.

“Good girl”, Jungkook praises and takes your legs to prop them up on the sheets. He spreads them with his hands on your inner thighs, “don’t close them until I’m done. Understood?”

“Yeah”, you say, nodding your head. You are so exposed like this and you love it. Jungkook makes you feel so safe. And needy enough that the most comfortable position to be in, is having your legs spread open.

“Good girl”, he says and connects his right hand with your pussy. He rubs his fingers up and down your sensitive heat, parting your swollen lips this way.

You chase him instantly, letting out a soft moan. This is the kind of tenderness he normally shows.

“So soft and swollen for me”, he rasps, staring deep into your eyes, “can I feel up my good girl inside, mhm?”

“Please”, you beg, bucking your hips up.

“Thank you, babygirl. You’re making me so happy”, he says and massages your entrance with his two longest fingers. He inches closer, sliding his left hand to the back of your head. He grabs a bundle of your hair and uses it to gently tilt your head up.

“Koo”, you whimper, switching between staring into his eyes and gazing at his lips. You could kiss him if only he moved in a little bit more. Your heart is hammering in your chest, his touch becomes so much more intense.

“Who do you belong to, baby?” he rasps.

“Koo”, you moan, painting burning adoration onto his features.

“Yes baby, you do. You’re my perfect girl”, he praises and rewards you with his fingers.

The breach feels so intense that you move closer all on your own, seeking comfort by moaning his nickname against his lips and trying to suck on them afterwards. It doesn’t hurt, but it is difficult to handle being filled with him when he’s got you so deep in subspace. Being fingered is the most amazing, overwhelming reward he could give you. You feel so close to tears because of how good it makes you feel.

“Breathe baby, breathe”, he whispers, pumping them in and out of you slowly, “you’re so tight. Does it hurt?”

“No”, you squeak, closing your eyes, “it feels so good”, you whine desperately and let out a little sob, “Koo, please don’t stop, please p-please.”

“I’m not gonna stop, babygirl. I’m only just beginning”, he assures you and helps you lie back again with a guiding hand on the nape of your neck, “you know how fucking greedy I am. It’ll take a while till I’m done with you”, he adds and slides his thumb to your clit to rub circles on her.

You squeeze your eyes shut, arching your back.

“Thank you, Koo. Thank…you”, you get out and then you can’t possibly produce any more words. You have to make sounds. Whimpers, sighs, sobs and moans. This is all you can do. All you want to do. He makes you feel so good. His fingers are long and because he uses more than one, also girthy enough to truly fill you out. He knows just how to fuck them into you, knows where every one of your sensitive spots lies and knows exactly how to massage them to turn every second into a moment of mindblowing pleasure. This is the kind of fingering you couldn’t even do yourself. Only Jungkook can give it to you and you’re so perfectly happy to experience it right now.

“You’re taking me so well, princess”, he praises and leans in to pepper kisses along your jawline and neck. You roll your head to the side, allowing him better access. It feels so good. You can’t say more about how he makes you feel other than that it feels so good. He keeps a steady rhythm with his fingers and his lips are so soft against your skin. You can also feel the little breaths he releases and the honest moans he makes. It tickles so nicely, making you even more sensitive to him.

“Mhm princess”, he purrs, tugging at the strap of your bra with his teeth, “I know you wanna show off your new piece, but can I take it off? Wanna lick your pretty nipples.”

“Please”, you beg, arching your back.

“Thank you, princess. I swear it’s driving me crazy”, he says and begins to work. He has to slip his fingers out, but makes up for it by offering his thigh for you to grind against. You moan, getting lost in the sensation. You writhe and squirm just so you can fuck yourself on his hard thigh all while Jungkook works on getting your bra off. He needs to unhook the handcuff chain for it, but works so skillfully that you barely even notice. Just as you don’t notice that he ties your hands in the front this time around until he drags your arms up by the chain.

You peel your eyes open, meeting his eyes. They are dark in pleasure, his brows are tugged tight giving him such a masculine dominance. You spill wet desperation on his thigh, squeezing your legs around it.

“Koo”, you whimper, stretching your arms further above your head.

“Keep them there until I’m done with you. Understood?”

“Yes, Koo.”

“Good girl. Now tell me how you feel.”

“Green”, you whimper, throbbing on his thigh.

“Good girl, she remembers the system”, he says and pushes your legs apart again. He slips his soaked thigh from your pussy, replacing this pleasure with the pleasure his fingers give you by slipping his longest two back into your pussy. He presses his thumb against your clit and begins finger fucking you deeply and a lot quicker than he did the first time.

“Koo, ah”, you moan, dropping your head deep into the pillows as your legs begin to shake. You know that those shakes will only grow from now on.

“That’s my good girl. You got so wet on my thigh, it has me wanting to act up”, he rasps and drops his left hand over your wrists to pin them into place. Now pinned down, naked and with your pussy squeezing his tattooed fingers, Jungkook finally pays attention to your tits. He would go gentle on other days. Massage you first, give you kisses on your tender flesh before thinking of your nipples. Not tonight. He needs to have them in your mouth. Now.

Jungkook begins with your left nipple, takes it between his lips to lick and sucks it greedily. The pleasure is hot. You swear you can feel the path it takes as it goes straight to your pussy.

You writhe under him, fucking yourself on his fingers as he forces the neediest moans out of you. Jungkook only stops sucking on your left nipple when he can taste how sensitive he’s got you. You get all unbearably hot on his tongue when that happens. He leaves a sloppy trail of spit on your nipple and shifts his attention to your right nipple. He takes it between his lips and begins the eager feast anew.

He moans, furrowing his brows. It feels so much smaller in comparison to your left nipple. Fuck, he’s got you so swollen. Jungkook increases the pressure around your wrist and fucks his fingers deeper. His palm presses against your clit, his fingers reach your deeper spots. Judging by how you are gasping for air and moaning brokenly, he’s hit the jackpot.

You squirm under him, your legs shake, your arms desperately try to break free. You feel so broken. He’s going to make you cum again and it’s going to feel so hot.

“Koo, Koo, Koo pl-lease”, you get out, moaning desperately.

Jungkook lifts his puffy lips from your nipple just to see how he ruins you.

“Koo, aah”, you drag out your moan, feeling yourself fall when Jungkook moans right with you, nodding his head as if to tell you that it was okay for you to break.

Your eyes go out of focus and roll back, closing just in sync with your orgasm hitting you. You are moaning so much and Jungkook doesn’t make it easier by moaning right with you.

“Yes babygirl, yes there we go”, he moans, fucking his fingers into you quickly, “fucking cum for me, aah yes, baby.”

Your voice cuts off with a gasp, you arch your back and feel what he does to you. He is pressing down on where it feels the best. It happens if you want to or not. You squirt on his fingers, soiling the sheets and his thigh with it.

“Yes babygirl, don’t hold back. That’s my babygirl, squirt for me”, he encourages you, helping you through the orgasm with expert touches.

Something shifts inside you. Something primal and insatiable. He’s such a good Dom right now. He’s got you ruined, squirting and so deep in safe subspace that you can’t really regulate what comes out of your mouth next.

“Daddy please. Please, oh god please.”

Jungkook falters in his touches for a moment, “holy fuck, what did you just say?”

You have no idea what you just said because you’re not sane yet. But Jungkook knows. Jungkook heard it and he is losing his fucking mind.

“Holy fuck, yes”, he growls, frowning as if he was angry. But he wasn’t angry, he was just overtaken by fucking desire for you, “that’s right. You’re Daddy’s babygirl. Holy fuck, I’m gonna fucking ruin you”, he spits and drops into the sheets before you. He keeps you in place with his left hand pressed to your stomach, resulting in his long fingers to poke against your sensitive spots even better. And then, only then, he connects his mouth with your pussy to make the angriest love to it.

“Koo!” you scream, twisting his hair instantly.

He didn’t even properly let you finish squirting and he is already stimulating your clit again. You tense up and feel another wave coming over you. You try to warn him, but he just fucks his fingers deeper and opens his mouth wider. So you are destined to empty yourself all over his face, sobbing his name because he makes you see fucking heaven and hell at the same time. Heaven because nothing feels better than Jungkook and hell because he is torturing you as if he hated you.

But he doesn’t hate you. He loves you. He is fucking obsessed with you. He breathes for you. And right now he is drinking from your sweet, sweet squirting pussy until you are empty and he fucking swallows every single droplet he can catch.

“Fuck baby”, he growls against you, twisting his fingers deeper, “say it again. One more time, please.”

“W-what?” you stutter.

“Daddy”, he growls and moans. Clarity comes back to you. You remember. You called him this word as he had you on the highest peak. You shudder and clench around him.

“Daddy”, you moan.

“Holy fuck”, Jungkook presses out and fucks the mattress, “babygirl”, he growls and connects his mouth back with your pussy.

“Ah, oh god Koo”, you squeak out, shaking uncontrollably, “it hurts, oh god ple-please.”

“Colour?”

“Green”, you sob, writhing on the sheets. They are so wet under you already and if Jungkook keeps this going, they’re going to get even wetter.

Jungkook growls and takes your clit between his lips again. Green means he can keep going. Green means you aren’t fucking done. Green means he is going to lick and finger you until he has you squirting again. Or pissing. Quite frankly, Jungkook doesn’t care about the difference. All he needs is for you to cum so fucking good that you wet yourself and feed him the sweetest liquid he ever tasted. He presses down on your tummy just so he can feel his own fingers rewrite your insides. Your stomach is so hard from all the tensing he is forcing you to do and Jungkook knows that the next one is going to be a good one. It has to be. You’re his good girl. You’re Daddy’s babygirl and if there is one thing he wants you to experience, it’s good fucking orgasms.

He didn’t even plan on eating you out again. He wanted to make you cum on his fingers and then take you missionary, but you twisted something in him. It’s not like he craved for you to call him like that, but rather that hearing this word from you shifted something inside him. He didn’t even know that he needed it until it left your lips and now he is going crazy. He needs you to orgasm one more time before he fills you with his cock. Jungkook curls his fingers in sync with his wet, sloppy tongue grinding against your clit.

“I have to cum, please”, you beg him, tugging at his hair because you know for a fact that you won’t be able to control yourself, “pl-please slow I- ah!”

Jungkook hears your begs and decides to use them as motivation. He knows that you are close and that you are currently trying to hold back in order not to squirt all over his face. He also knows that you’ve been married to him long enough that you are aware that he loves it when you do. So all this begging is just for show.

He fucks his fingers into you roughly, filling the air with the lewdest, wettest sounds.

“I’m sorry”, you sob and then it happens. Jungkook forces you to orgasm and with it, cover his face with your wetness. You twist his hair desperately, writhing in hot pleasure, “I’m sorry, I can’t stop it, ah!”

Jungkook growls, fucking the mattress angrily. This is it. This is his personal religion. The reason he fucking exists and the proof why he deserves such a title. He drinks you up until you have to pull him away from you.

“Please stop”, you beg him, dropping into the pillows while your body flinches as it recovers, “oh god. Ah fu-fuck.”

Jungkook slips his fingers out and kisses a path up your body. He doesn’t even care that he is leaving wet trails all over your skin, neither do you.

His hands cradle you, running along your sides until he can touch your upper back.

“Breathe for me”, he orders you and sucks on your jawline, “breathe baby, breathe.”

You breathe just like he tells you to do. It makes the recovering a little easier. Especially because Jungkook holds you so close and kisses you. You are disoriented and dizzy, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable because you’ve got Jungkook keeping you safe.

“There we go, breathe.”

You inhale and exhale, letting out a trembling whimper while your handcuffed hands reach for him. You manage to brush them over his neck and chest before you grow too weak and drop them again.

“Good girl. Colour?”

“Green”, you whimper.

“That’s good. I’m not done with you”, he whispers against your jaw and kisses his way up to your neck, “Daddy’s not done with his babygirl”, he rasps and chuckles deeply, “holy fuck, you did something to me with this. Holy fuck, I’m insane for you.”

You gulp repeatedly as you try to recover from what he just did to you. You want to say something, but all you can get out is “angmh” and then your voice forsakes you.

“I know, babygirl. But I’m still not done with you. I’m so fucking greedy for more”, he tells you and caresses your cheek, “you’re gonna take my cock and cum one more time. Understood?”

“Mhmgm”, you let out, writhing on the sheets weakly.

“Look at me.”

You obey even if opening your eyes feels impossible at first. You moan, arching your back at the sight of him. He is wet and dripping from your orgasms, staring at you with dark eyes and a tight jaw.

“Are we understood?” he insists in a deep voice, shaking your head gently.

You nod your head.

“Speak up.”

“Yes”, you whimper and reach for his face, “Koo please.”

He gives you a soft smile and kisses your palm.

“Good girl”, he praises, then takes your wrists to open the chain again. He drags you into a sitting position, “turn around.”

You obey, allowing him to close the cuffs on your back again.

“Lie down on your tummy.”

You obey.

He lets you rest for a second, but judging by the noises, he is taking off his briefs and lubing up his cock. He nudges your legs apart with his knee and connects his lubed fingers with your pussy.

“You’re such a good girl for preparing lube”, he praises and fills you with two fingers to test how sensitive you are.

You writhe and squirm, but don’t seem to be in pain.

“Koo please”, you beg, clenching around his fingers. He takes them away from you, but makes up for it by rubbing his cock against your entrance. You squirm, trying to feel for him but Jungkook drags your hands away by the chain.

“Behave”, he warns and pushes inside.

“Ah”, you let out, squeezing your eyes shut as his cock fills you up. The stretch is intense in the best way possible. It doesn’t hurt, but Jungkook got you so deep in the mindspace of total submission that it feels sacrilegious to finally have his cock. Something missing finally returned and it’s leaving you breathless.

“Fuck baby, so tight”, he growls, furrowing his brows, “how are you doing? Hurts?”

“No”, you whimper, “no, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t. Daddy’s so greedy for your pussy”, he says and bottoms out, “fuck”, he moans, dropping his head as his strong fingers dimple your ass, “breathe baby, you’re tightening.”

“It feels so good”, you whimper, “I can’t help it. I’m Daddy’s cock slut”, you get out and sob needily, fucking back onto his cock.

“You’re driving me insane, holy shit”, Jungkook presses out through gritted teeth and meets you movement until he has you fucked back into obedience. It takes embarrassingly little time for you to stop pushing back to instead lie on the mattress and take him with needy moans.

Not that Jungkook minded you fucking your tight pussy on his cock, but he needs you to understand that tonight he is controlling the scene. That every second of pleasure you receive is because he wants it to happen exactly how it happens. And that means that he will make you squirt on his face as often as he wants to and it means that he will fuck your sweet, little pussy until he’s either spend or you genuinely can’t anymore. There is no in between, he will only stop once one of you is too ruined to keep going.

“That’s better. I want you obedient tonight, okay?”

“Yeah…” you keen and spill tears, “Koo, please don’t stop, please.”

“Mhhhm so sweet…. my baby’s so sweet. Fuuck.”

Jungkook presses your legs together with his strong thighs and begins moving out of his hips. He is resting on top of your thighs, caging them in and feeling them shake each time he bottoms out. You moan so sweetly, presenting your pussy to him as he fills it with his cock. He can watch it shift and change as he fills you up. His cock gets wetter each time he pulls out again.

“You look so fucking pretty like this”, he rasps, pushing your hands aside so he could grab your ass and spread it apart. You tighten around him, Jungkook feels it and you feel it too.

“Koo! Ah, ah, ha”, you squeak out your moans, spilling tears of pleasure on the sheets. His cock goes so deep. Your hole is so tiny in this position. You don’t want him to stop. He is rubbing against you so good that you swear you could orgasm just from getting your pussy fucked. No stimulation of your clit or sensitive spots needed, all you need is the sensation of Jungkook’s veiny cock fucking past those first few inches of your wet pussy.

“Yeah keep moaning baby, keep fucking moaning for me”, he encourages you while his pleasure darkened eyes run over your body. There is a reason why he needs to part your ass. It exposes his two favourite holes to fuck. Your pussy, so so wet and stuffed with cock and your ass so so empty and slickened from all your orgasms. Jungkook growls deeply and develops such unbearable anger at your pretty hole for driving him so fucking mad that he has to spit on it.

“Ah!” you flinch and clench around nothing. His spit feels burning hot on your hole. Jungkook massages it into you with rough circles, basking in how much squirmier you get under him.

“Fuck, I’m going insane. Holy fuck”, he moans and picks up the lube. He opens it with his teeth and flips it just to squirt some all over your ass. He throws the opened bottle aside afterwards, rolling his hips deeper into you.

“Koo…what….is that?” you get out.

“Just something to make it slippery”, he rasps and begins spreading the lube all over your ass and lower back, “want you fucking wet and sticky, babygirl”, he says and rubs his wet fingers up and down your hole while his hips pick up speed.

To think that he is covering you in lube for the sole purpose of making you messy and to know that he gets pleasure out of the view, ruins you.

“Koo, Da-”, you manage to get out and then your body betrays you as you lose every sense of control.

“Argh fuck”, Jungkook spits angrily, scrunching his face as your orgasm not only surprises you but him as well, “holy fuck”, he laughs and drops his head, “you’re cumming again? Holy fuck baby, you’re such a good girl. Yeah, you keep shaking for me.”

You do exactly that. You shake for him. Cum for him. Cry for him. While he fucks you through it in the stickiest, hottest pronebone you ever found yourselves in.

He isn’t finished with you afterwards. He lets you know with a growl and his cock pulling out not for the purpose of stopping, but so he could pull you onto all fours. He twists the chain of the handcuffs between his tattooed fingers and rubs his cock between your buttocks. The lube makes it easy to do so. Despite how ruined he has you, you arch your back just so you can present yourself to him better. Jungkook lingers on your hole, rubbing his cockhead against it.

“You’re shaking so much. How pretty”, he taunts, giving your hole repeated spanks with his cock.

“Koo”, is all you manage to get out. There are no other words in your brain right now. Only his title. You feel so fucked. Ruined. Broken. And you don’t want this to end yet.

“Green?”

You nod your head, arching your back to get closer to him.

“Mhhhm”, Jungkook purrs deeply and stops his spanks to instead rub his cock against your hole again, “you have no work tomorrow, do you?”

“No?” you get out.

“Good, means I have time to prepare you. I wanna fuck your ass tomorrow”, he says and applies just enough pressure that you feel a stretch without him slipping inside.

“A-ah”, you moan, curling your toes.

“Not tonight though, need to cream my babygirl’s pussy with my cum”, he says and fucks his cock into your pussy in one maddening stroke.

You whimper, feeling your knees buckle. Jungkook pulls you back onto him by your handcuffs, keeping you upright this way. It’s difficult to hold on. His fingers are so slippery from all the lube play he’s been doing. He still holds on, looking at how tied up and helpless he’s got you and loving every second of it. Your pussy is so wet and hot, squeezing his swollen cock and reminding him why he is so fucking obsessed with you. Why sex with you won’t ever get boring, even after all those years together.

“Koo”, you whimper, spilling tears on the sheets.

“Not long anymore. My cock’s so fucking sensitive for you, I’m close”, he encourages you, rolling his hips into you in slow strokes.

“Harder please”, you beg.

“Fuck”, he spits and speeds up instantly. He grips your hip with his slippery hand and twists the chains to the point where he tugs you off the mattress and you hang on by nothing but the cuffs. Like this, Jungkook watches your tits bounce, increasing his speed to the point where his heavy balls slap against your clit repeatedly. He can go so deep this way and he’s fucked you well enough that your pussy’s shaped for no one but him. You can fit him. From his sensitive tip all the way down to his girthy base. If he could, he would go even further, reminding your insides who owns them with animalistic thrusts.

“Fuck baby”, he is growling through gritted teeth, dimpling your hip, “you’re making me fucking angry. Ha!” he laughs squeakily, contorting his face in pleasure, “you feel so good. Holy shit. How is it for you?”

“Go-goo-good”, you he fucks the word out of you and fucks moans out of you right afterwards. They are squeaky and sound not at all like you. But Jungkook knows you and he knows that this is how you sound when you’ve hit the peak of pleasure. This is the rawest, most honest version you will ever show and only he gets to experience it.

“Yeah? It’s good?” he is panting, dripping sweat. He is fucking so goddamn hard and it’s stealing his strength. You keep clenching around him, his knees are so wobbly because of you, but he fucks through the weakness. You want it hard and if there is one thing he’s good at, it’s fucking you hard.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” you chant, writhing in his strong hold. His body is colliding with yours each time he bottoms out. The impact feels punishing and like ecstasy.

“Yeah urgh”, he growls, throwing his head back, “I have to cum soon. It’s too good.”

“Soon, ple-please”, you beg, clenching around him desperately. He will make you cum one more time. Then every single orgasm you could experience will have shook your body. You need it. You need it so bad. The thought that tomorrow you will experience how good he can make you cum with your ass as well, pushes you closer to the edge stroke by fucking stroke.

“Fuck, you’re torturing me”, Jungkook growls and buries his cock deep inside to paint patterns on your a-spot, “like that? Mhm, is Daddy fucking you how you need it?”

“Yes! Oh god”, your voice switches from squeaks to animalistic growls, “holy fuck, you’re making me cum”, you growl and convulse in the most uncontrollable and honest way possible, “Koo, Daddy…. fuuuck”, you moan deeply as your orgasm burns you from the inside out.

“___”, Jungkook moans and throws his head back. There is a lot he can handle, but what he can’t do is listen to you growl like that. It throws him over the edge instantly, forcing his hips to still because he cums so fucking hard that he sees black for a few seconds. You drop onto the sheets because his grip loosened around the handcuffs. It forces Jungkook to fall over. His sticky hand grips the back of your head, keeping you down as he pumps you full of cum and growls into your ear.

Three, two, one.

Jungkook whimpers and begins moaning squeakily, hugging you against his chest as he drags out his orgasm with slow rolls of his hips.

You collapse with the sheets. Jungkook follows, putting almost all of his weight on you as his twitchy hips fuck his cock into you. He doesn’t want his orgasm to stop. Not yet.

“You feel so good, oh god”, he whimpers, hugging you tightly as he tries to at least shift some of his weight onto his elbow, “please clench for me, please.”

You obey even if your energy is at a dangerously low level. You know that once Jungkook satisfied his needs, you won’t be able to go again. You are fucking spend.

“Thank you, ah baby”, he mewls and lets out a soft sob, “I love you so much. Oh god, again.”

Yes he is sensitive. Yes he will make it your problem. Yes he is going to fill you up until you can’t hold it in anymore.

And yes you love it, moaning with him as Jungkook brings himself over the edge a second time.

“I love you, I love you, I love you”, he chants.

“I love you too, Koo I love you too”, you answer him each time he does, healing with each confession of love you exchange.

Jungkook pulls out after his high dies down, fucking his still hard cock between your thighs so he could grow soft there. You are so wet and hot there, giving him the kind of pressure he currently needs. And as he feels your closeness a little longer with the help of your thighs, he begins kissing the side of your face. He brushes aside whatever strands of hair stuck to your face as he fucked you into a state of ruin and then it is already time for him to litter every inch he can reach with his love.

“Good job, my good girl. Holy fuck, good job”, he praises in a trembling voice, “you did so well. I love you so much. Good job, babygirl, good job.”

You enjoy his affection with a racing heart and a dizzy head. You can feel him throb between your legs while his warm cum slowly seeps out of you. His chest is wet and sticky and you can feel his heart racing. This is such a healing state to be in.

“Good job”, he whispers and exhales shakily, “shit, I’m ruined. How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Ruined too”, you murmur.

Jungkook shifts on top of you a little, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look at your face. You peel your eyes open, meeting his gaze. He looks as ruined as you feel.

“Are you in pain? I know I went at you quite hard”, he asks, caressing your cheek.

You shake your head, “it’s not uncomfortable.”

“So you’re in pain. Baby, I’m sor-”

“It’s not uncomfortable”, you interrupt him, “I’m just ruined, but I like it”, you assure him and give him a droopy smile, “also I’m having a uterus cramp ‘cause you made me cum too many times. Imma be sore tomorrow.”

Jungkook smiles awkwardly, “but you’re okay, yeah?”

You nod your head, “I’m okay. You’re the best fucking hubby ever.”

Jungkook finally smiles honestly, snuggling into you. He kisses the bridge of your nose, pressing his lips against your forehead as he talks.

“No, you are the best wifey. You took me so well”, he whispers.

“I had so much fun”, you say, “thank you for ruining me.”

He snickers, “you’re saying stuff”, he murmurs and hums almost cutely. He kisses your forehead, “also, can we talk about what you called me?”

“Yeah, I didn’t think I needed this, but I did.”

“Yeah, same. My heart’s fucking pounding.”

“I can feel that.”

You and he giggle together. He snuggles closer, kissing your forehead repeatedly.

“You can definitely keep surprising me with it when you feel like it”, he says.

“Dearly noted”, you say and snicker, “wow, I’m actually done for. How the fuck are you always doing this?”

“It’s ‘cause I’m basically insane”, he jokes, making you laugh.

“Kook stop, don’t make me laugh” you whine, trying to clench.

“Why?” he laughs.

“Cause I’m leaking.”

“Baby, it’s a little too late to worry about your sheets”, he says, cracking you up again and therefore forcing more of his cum to drip out of you.

“You’re the worst, it’s happening again”, you whine as you laugh.

He cackles, wiggling on top of you as happiness overtakes him.

“You’re so cute, oh god”, he squeaks and squishes his cheek against yours as he hugs you tightly, “my booboo bebe baba baby”, he coos, rubbing his cheek against yours.

You giggle squeakily, enjoying his snuggles with a scrunched nose and crinkled eyes.

He lifts his head again, wiping his thumb under your eyes gently. You grin up at him, feeling goofily much in love with him.

“Your makeup’s ruined. It’s so smudged.”

“I know. I cried so much.”

“Hot. Mhhm baby”, he moves in for a soft cheek bite, “you’re so sexy, babygirl. You’re making me crazy.”

“Whatever doofus”, you murmur and huff out air, “god, I’m leaking again“, you whine, making him laugh.

“Wait, let me quickly untie you and then you can go to the toilet”, he says and sits up so he can undo the handcuffs.

He crawls off of you and watches you roll to your back. You make grabby hands at him and so he lowers himself until you can pull him into a hug. Your limbs tangle with each other, but you make it work because you hugged each other a million times before.

“I’m too dead to walk. I’ll go later”, you mumble into him, “I wanna cuddle.”

Jungkook melts with you. His thigh is between your legs. Your head is resting on his upper arm as you snuggle your face into his chest.

“Cuddling sounds perfect”, he says and sighs happily when you drape your leg over his hips just to get even closer, “you’re leaking more like this, you know?”

“Yeah, but you’re right. We’re already dirty as fuck”, you snicker, “the lube play was hot, by the way.”

“Mhm yeah and when you squirted on my face. Twice. Phew”, he exhales deeply, “that was hot.”

You snicker, feeling your heart race. Jungkook snickers as well, pulling you closer. Your arms know exactly where to lie so you and he can be as close as possible. You can fuck as hard and long as you want to and it will be okay in the end, because you know exactly how to cuddle to recover in the most comforting of ways.

“Did you actually mean it when you said you’ll fuck my ass tomorrow?” you ask him.

“Okay, first of all in my defense I was really horny and my whore side most definitely came out there”, he says, making you laugh. He speaks his next word with laughter on his lips, “but if you’re actually down, then I wouldn’t say no.”

“Mhm, I’d be down too”, you say, snuggling into him with a kiss to his sweaty chest, “you’re cute, you know? You always say the dirtiest things when we fuck and then you’re acting all cute about them afterwards.”

“Says the person who called me Daddy outta nowhere”, he defends himself, ripping yet another round of laughter out of you.

Jungkook laughs with you, holding you oh so close.

And so you and he find yourselves recovering from the intense sex with laughter and cuddles. You and he will continue talking about every single detail of this evening and you will do so with giggles and fluttering hearts. Later, you will both go to the toilet and then take a shower together to wash off the mess you made. Needless to say the night will end with cuddles and giggles in bed, with good conversation and too many inside jokes cracking the both of you up over and over again until you fall asleep with smiles on your lips.

Yeah, date night is definitely amazing.

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awritesthings1 · 2 months

Text

Good Taste

Pairing: Tommy Shelby / Wife reader

Summary: You get made fun of for wearing your sapphire necklace to the foundation dinner. Tommy always finds a way to make things better.

Warnings: swearing, implied smut.

ao3 link

“She was making fun of me!”

“Yeah? And when has that ever bothered you before, my darling?”

“Since all the bloody country wives started debating whether my jewelry was in fashion or not, Tommy,” you huffed at your husband, who was having no luck pinching away the creases between his eyebrows.

Tommy sighed deeply, not really bothered to continue the conversation but irked because the wives down the lane had gotten under your skin, and if you were unhappy, then he was unhappy. He fueled his throbbing head with a cigarette, chain-smoking them back-to-back while he hunched over on the settee.

You were sitting at the vanity, fingers tangled hopelessly at the stubborn latch of your necklace that just wouldn’t let, when you saw how Tommy was beginning to fold in on himself. Guilt consumed you immediately. It wasn’t that you actually cared all that much about what people said, but when you were around Tommy, your guard slipped, and all the things that made you tick during the day would come cluttering out of your mouth like an unwanted clash of symbols and noise. Tommy would sit there and listen, hum, nod, and completely detach himself from the world.

You ran each other around like clockwork. He leaned back, you forward. Lust swelled in his eyes, concern in yours, a tug at your hip, and a gasp from your throat. You smiled sympathetically, apologetically. He kept quiet, forgivingly holding your gaze, until a defeated sigh broke the tension, and you both understood how silly the whole ordeal was. Here was Thomas Shelby, a man of great power, slumped against the settee, utterly exhausted.

“Darling, this is fucking Birmingham. Good taste is for people that can’t afford sapphires.”

That brought a smirk to your lips.

“Oh?” You muse, watching him through your vanity mirror.

Tommy huffs, but it’s more out of amusement than agitation. The cigarette between his lips twitches as a smile graces his face. He hums in affirmation.

You give up on trying to unlatch the sapphire necklace around your neck. You’re far too distracted by the way Tommy leans back on the settee like he knows it’s his damn right, spreading his legs, chain-smoking cigarettes, and blowing the smoke towards the ceiling. He’s completely in the wrong if he thinks you are going to keep your hands tangled up in a necklace when they would be much more useful somewhere else…

When your chair screeches against the wood as you push it back to stand, his head snaps to attention. He has a faraway look to his eye, haunted even, but he swallows when you sink to your knees between his legs, and something else begins to swell other than his pupils.

You run your hands up his knees to his thighs and back again.

“I know it’s stupid. They just get under my skin sometimes,” you resign.

He clears his throat and reaches past your head to set his cigarette on the ash tray. He stays there, bent forward, a breath apart, and begins caressing your face with the back of his fingers. A faint smile softens his features and warms his skin.

You laugh because it really is ridiculous. For marrying someone who spends most of their life buried in their head, you sure have picked up on his tendencies.

“Do you think I’m becoming obsessed?”

He doesn’t even try to hide his amusement. “No.”

You were; he was just treading carefully. Because while he wandered off to speak to god knows who at the foundation dinner, your feathers were being ruffled by stuck-up old women who were too busy being stuck up to notice their husbands’ lingering eyes. However, being able to defend your vanity was another thing compared to dealing with Shelby Company Limited business. And if it came to surviving passive aggressive remarks from old women or being led into another room to talk with Mr. Thomas Shelby, head of the Peaky Blinders, you would sneer rudely at Margaret any day.

You voice the thought at Tommy, “I take it your night wasn’t as successful as mine?”

He exhales and raises his eyebrows playfully, more or less confirming your suspicions.

“And should I ask you about it like a good wife?”

He hums, “no.”

He’s so entranced in running his fingers up and down your jaw, around your chin, and thumbing your lips that you’ll just have to forgive him later.

You pull a face. You’re not mad at him. Far from it. Those fingers of his dancing across your face are your weakness.

“You’re not listening to me.” You lean in closer.

“Yes, I am,” he smiles.

You try to pull back in faux skepticism, but with his hand holding your face so close to his,

“Where are you going, eh?” Tommy leans forward to steal a kiss, and he feels your laughter against his lips, a pleasant sensation.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby,” you jest.

Together, you fall back onto the settee with you astride his lap. Your hair falls over his face like a curtain, keeping him safe from the outside world. He doesn’t want to move; no, he will stay here for the next couple of months, transfixed inside this moment. The gun tucked away in the holster beneath his arm feels less heavy, and the clock ticking above his head slows. He can breathe. He can gingerly stroke your jaw with his thumb in the way you adore. So he does, and the shuttering thoughts that occupy so much of his head stutter in fear because they know they come second to you.

Then there’s that pretty sapphire necklace hanging from your neck. The one that got you both in this position in the first place. Those fucking people, eh? Those fucking people with their fancy palaces and prim and proper manners judging you, his wife, refusing you, his wife? That got him going.

You can tell he is in his head by the way his eyes linger on your sapphire necklace. He looks irked.

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

He shakes his head lazily.

“Speak to me, love,” you insist.

Fuck em. Fuck the bastards that made his wife feel unworthy. They wouldn’t know taste if it hit them like a fucking train. He won’t let them bring her down.

Tommy clears his throat. “I’m sorry for being in my head, Mrs. Shelby.”

His apology is soothed into your skin with a gentle brush of his thumb at the end of your chin. He tilts it down to lay a kiss on the corner of your mouth. He always knows how to make you smile.

You press more of your weight into him and deepen the kiss, to which he grunts. It stirs a honey warmth in your stomach.

As for Tommy, the need to be closer to you is suffocating; he’d rather just lock you both in this room and throw away the key. He’d rather the stifling walls close in on you both until he can’t even open his lungs, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. He needs to be in your skin, in your thoughts, but most importantly, right now, in your underwear.

It’s your goddamn nails clawing at his scalp that do it for him. It winds him up like a fucking pocket watch, boils his blood like good whiskey, and fuels the fires.

He urges your name in warning because he’s so strung up he might just rip the seams of your pretty dress, and you make the mistake of swallowing his plea with a huff and a tangle of tongues.

“The necklace, Thomas,” you gasp.

It would really be a pity if he accidentally broke it in the rush to remove your dress. It slows him down momentarily removing it, and his fingers can’t quite function being away from your skin but he knows ever since he gifted it to you, there’s been nothing you loved more. When the latch finally unclasps, he parts from your lips to gently lower it to the coffee table where it remains unscathed for the rest of the night. The same couldn’t be said about your dress.

Taglist: (i was drunk when I posted this so I forgot to add it lol).

@maliceofwonderland @fairytale07 @goblinjnr @ilovepeoplesdads @multidimensionalslut @blogforficslol @elenavampire21

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

Note

ok what if reader is also a vigilante?

reader and Jason met in their civilian identities, and after a while they start dating. but like, neither of them tells the other one about their vigilante identities? and then something random happens and they both find out in a funny way?

(alsooo can I be 🐈‍⬛? :3)

Idk if this is considered ‘funny’ but I tired, oh and Yes, you may be 🐈‍⬛ anon. 🦦

When you first met Jason in the cosy book store, you were far too concerned with keeping your stint as a vigilante as close to a secret as possible, so much so that the mere aspect of dating wasn’t something you contemplated on a day to day basis; Never less dating a civilian when you’re fighting street level thugs. However you couldn’t help but get lost in the beauty of his smile, his eyes and the way he ran his hand through his hair.

All you were aware in that moment was that Jason is just perfection in a six foot something frame. He was just that beautiful that you couldn’t find yourself looking away from him, ever; It had to be illegal to be that beautiful.

When Jason first met you in the cosy book store, trying to reach for a book that was just out of reach, he was far too concerned about the new vigilante that had taken to the street of Gotham. Nightshade was their name and they obviously had natural talent but were still sloppy in some areas, but they showed enough promise in their debut outing to be apart of the Outlaws. Dating was the last thing he needed honestly, despite affection, loyalty and love were something he deeply longer for more so then anything, however he felt a little tempted by the idea when you gave him a look of gratitude as he handed you the book was enough to set him alight.

‘Jason.’ He blurted.

‘Come again?’ You asked.

‘My name. It’s Jason.’ He clarified, internally cursing himself for making himself looking like a right idiot in front of you, but you just had that effect on him and it hadn’t even been ten minutes upon meeting you. Was he really that depraved? He asked himself as in that very moment you decided to smile at him, which gave him his answer that yes, he was indeed that depraved for a genuine connection. ‘Well it’s nice to meet you Jason. I’m y/n.’ You greeted, finding Jason absolutely endearing and insufferably cute. ‘Do you often help people with books or is it just a one time thing?’ You then asked, holding the book close to your chest, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘I don’t come here as often as I promised myself I would, so consider this as a rare occurrence.’ Jason shrugged, leaning against the shelf. ‘So do you come here often or are you a fellow procrastinator?’ You chuckled and Jason has to pat himself on the back for that one. He managed to make you laugh and god did it sound ethereal. ‘I’m kinda a fellow procrastinator but that’s because I’ve been busy with life and such.’ You told him, not wanting to admit to everything to a conventionally attractive man you’ve just met at a small, run down book store just yet; You didn’t want to fuck this up for yourself.

‘Oh yeah? Then maybe if you come here more often, I’ll have more of a reason to stop by other than the books.’ Jason said and you felt your smile even wider and tighten your grip on the book, casting your eyes to the floor. Curse this beautiful man for making you feel like a silly little schoolgirl either way a crush, it was both embarrassing as it was all consuming. ‘Sounds like you’re asking me on a date, mr Jason.’

Jason shrugs. ‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I mean is it wrong for me to want to get to know you better?’

‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt.’ You admitted.

‘So it’s a date?’ Jason asked, anticipating your answer.

‘Yeah. It’s a date.’ You replied, feeling a warmth flood through your body, followed by a feeling of nervousness simultaneously it was hard to figure out which feeling you should focus on.

Several book store dates, skirting your obvious feelings for one another and moving into his apartment later, you and Jason were officially a couple: and a happy one at that. And yet despite sharing everything to one another, every deep secret you’ve ever kept in your entire life and yet the one secret neither of you chose to disclose was your vigilante identities, and for simple and justifiable reasons on both your parts; You didn’t want Jason to be brought into the crossfire as a casualty and Jason didn’t want you to get hurt because of the dangerous people he wronged as RedHood. You’ve both hated yourselves for keeping a tight lid on your vigilantism but you knew it was for the betterment of the other, after all ignorance was indeed -on some occasions- bliss.

However on this very night, everything you and Jason have ever hidden from the other had decided to come to light but not in a way that’d either of you were expecting.

You and Jason were cuddled up on the couch and enjoying a peaceful evening in together, seeing as for a week straight both of you have had your hands full with capturing and clearing the streets of Gotham of thugs, goons and drug dealers, and actually getting the golden opportunity to act like an ordinary couple and shower the other in the love and affection that you’ve both been aching for the entire week.

‘You need to get some better sleep Jaybirdie, I can see dark bags starting to form under your eyes.’ You mutter softly as you run your calloused thumbs under his eyes, naturally concerned for his health and well-being. ‘Are you saying that I’m not that appealing to look at anymore because I’m developing eye bags? How shallow of you babe.’ Jason joked as he moved his face from your hands and looking away from you with a pout on his lips.

You laughed, reaching to hold his face in your hands again and gently made him look at you. ‘Stop being dramatic my little Jay bird, I think you make eyes bags work for you but I just don’t like the idea of you staying up longer than you should.’ You said as you kissed his lips and then under his eyes, feeling him hum in content as he dragged you into him tightly. ‘I appreciate the compliment babe.’ He said as he pressed a kiss to your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in deeply. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t had enough time with each other lately.’

You burrowed yourself deeper into him, hands clutching at his shirt. ‘it’s okay Jason and besides I should sorry too because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now. I hope you don’t hate me afterwards.’ You admit, scared that this might break your beautiful relationship with the sweetest man you’ve ever met, who had been nothing but unquestionably loyal to you through and through. ‘You could do no wrong pretty baby,’ Jason cooed, ‘but since we’re sharing things, I have something that I’ve been keeping from you also sweetheart.’ Jason said as he feared that he’d only be scaring you away afterwards and he can only hope that you’d stay and hear him out.

‘No, Jason you don’t-‘ you were cut off by the sound of two emergency alerts going off from your shared bedroom and before leaping off of Jason’s lap, much to his displeasure and worry, and rushed towards the bedroom with Jason hot on your heels going on about something you couldn’t quite make out over the noise of the emergency alerts. It was rare that it goes off and when it does, it’s when someone like scarecrow or Joker has made a reemergence to the public and when they do, nothin good ever comes to pass.

Within the depths of your shared closet in your bedroom were two equal sized duffel bags. Inside these duffel bags held everything to do with your vigilante personas that you and Jason had hastily shoved inside, and all before you officially moved into his apartment too. You never touched his out of respect for him and he never touched yours out of respect also, you both knew which one belong to who as they also sat just beneath your own civilians clothes, that and the fact that Jason’s duffel bag was a lot more beat up and rugged compared to yours which only had slight wears and tears; but other then that it was relatively a new bag.

Right of this moment however you didn’t stop to think about which bag you’ve picked up because before you knew it you had locked yourself within the bathroom, just about ready to change into your attire, when you were face to face with a familiar red helmet causing you to freeze in place. While you were trying to grasp the idea that your beautiful, beautiful Jason was the ruthless RedHood, a knock on the bathroom door broke you from your thoughts, and you automatically knew that Jason saw your vigilante attire and was feeling a similar sort of confusion towards you as you were about him. You placed the red helmet back into the duffle bag, zipped it shut before unlocking and opening the door wide enough for Jason to hold out your duffel bag towards you.

‘I believe this is yours sweetheart.’ He said awkwardly.

‘Thank you Jaybirdie.’ You mutter as you took the bag off of him, placing it down on the toilet seat as you picked up his duffel bag and handed it to him through the gap in the doorway. ‘I believe this belongs to you.’

‘Thank you sweetheart.’ Jason replied as he took the bag off of your hands as an uncomfortable air of silence followed as you both stood on either sides of the door, not knowing how to properly address the situation. Until… ‘I knew I recognise that ass in spandex anywhere.’

‘JASON!’ You exclaimed, face becoming flushed.

‘What? It’s true you’ve got a distinctly shaped ass! So of course I’m going to recognise it!’ Jason replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

‘So you’ve admitted to staring at my ass like a perv?’ You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason pushed the bathroom door open fully to get closer to you and hold your face in his hands. ‘Don’t start acting like you haven’t stared at my ass like a perv, perv.’ He says with a chuckle upon seeing the expression upon your face, pressing kisses from your forehead and all the way down to the tip of your nose. ‘I thought you wouldn’t notice.’ You murmur softly, making Jason laugh as he lead you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where he then sat you down on the end of the bed and held your hand.

‘Well unfortunately for you, I do notice and I can’t say I don’t like the attention that I’d get for my charming parent.’ Jason says as he kisses the back of your hand. ‘You’re not mad that I’m a vigilante and have been keeping it from you all this time?’ You asked, running your thumb over his hand. ‘No because it would be quite hypocritical if I did because I’ve been keeping the same secret hidden from you also. Would you be mad at me being RedHood?’ Jason asked and you immeditly replied ‘no because I know you did so to keep me safe.’

‘Ans I know that you didn’t tell me for the exact same reason.’ Jason butted in. ‘Now that we know however, this just means that we’re even more of a kick ass couple because we literally kick ass every night and I couldn’t be more prouder of you baby.’ He add as he presses kisses to your face, making you chuckle before pulling away. ‘But that doesn’t mean I won’t stop worry about my baby. So expect a whole lot of team ups in the future okay chipmunk?’ You pressed a kiss to his cheek before stealing one from his lips as you stood up from the bed, tugging at his arm. ‘Why don’t we start teaming up now? RedHood and Nightshade, they’ll never see us coming by a long shot!’ You said and Jason couldn’t help but smile at your excitement as he then stood up, groaning dramatically. ‘Alright, alright, quick pulling my arm and get changed so we can go catch us some bad guys.’

You beamed brightly as you stole another kiss from his lips. ‘I love you Jaybirdie.’

‘The things I do for you buttercup.’ Jason spoke against your lips as he kisses you again.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Lead Me*

Summary: An extra for Teach Me*

You're on your period and your best friend Harry is determined to help you feel better.

Your only condition?

He's not allowed to look.

Word Count: 5.1k

*Contains Mature and Explicit Content. Take care of yourself first, only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*

“Absolutely not.”

“Bee…come on—”

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

“And why not?”

“Because…it’s…just, no.”

“Leading experts say that sex can help with cramps.”

“…okay? And?”

“And…I think you should let me fuck your cramps away.”

Your expression falls, eyes narrowing into condescending slits. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” he says calmly, nodding once to accentuate his point. “People do it all the time.”

“But not us.”

“Again, why not?”

“Because it’s…messy. It’s gross.”

“You have a blood kink; I don’t understand why this is different.”

“Oh, my god. This is so vastly different.”

“Well…not for me. I think it’s kind of hot.”

Instinctually, your nose scrunches as you lean back. “Ew, seriously?”

“Ew? What do you mean ew?” He nearly scoffs as he shoots you a confused but amused smile. “Bee…it’s you. It’s…you know, the circle of life or whatever. And it’s still the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

You allow yourself a moment to consider it before once again shaking your head. “No. Nope. That’s…you don’t need to see me like that. It’s…not pretty.”

The skin between his brows crinkles as he studies you, the left side of his mouth quirking up. “That’s silly.”

And maybe it is, but you can’t help the warming of your face. “Har, I’m serious. Periods are messy, and not at all sexy. Trust me, you wouldn’t like it.”

He takes a step forward and gingerly brushes his thumb across your cheekbone until he can cradle your jaw in his palm. “You know what is sexy?”

“Hm?”

“Making you feel good,” he murmurs as you just about melt. “I mean it. I trust you, Bee, always. But I need you to trust me when I tell you that this doesn’t change anything. Obviously, we won’t do it if you aren’t comfortable. But I think we’d both benefit.”

You contemplate his premise a second time.

“Besides…” he continues, smiling a bit wider, “…neither one of us has ever done it before, yeah? So, we’d get to try this for the first time—together. You’d teach me, and I’d teach you.”

And you adore the sound of that. Adore the idea of getting to learn something with him. Be his first the way he is yours.

You hover your palms over his chest and sigh. “Okay, yeah. I know. But…what if you don’t like it? What if you think it’s weird?”

He frowns. “I won’t, but even if I do, we can always stop.”

“What if it’s messy? Which it will be.”

“S’what showers are for.”

“Okay, but what if it’s too—”

He presses his free hand to your other cheek. “Bee?”

You slow to a stop. “Yeah?”

“What if it’s good?” he whispers, bringing you closer until you can feel the question ghost across your lips. “What if it’s so fucking good? What if it’s exactly what you needed? What if it’s everything?”

You swallow a huff and a whimper. “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” The tip of his nose nuzzles against yours, taunting you with the thought of a kiss. “Don’t make you feel good? Don’t make it worth it? Don’t make really good points?”

You can’t help but pout playfully.

“I promise, Bee,” he continues, meeting your eye. “I only want to make you feel better. Make you feel everything. Be so gentle with you, I swear.”

You begin to tug on his shirt, desperately needing him closer. “I know, Har. I know, I just…I’m nervous.”

“I know,” he echoes, humming as he strokes his fingers across your skin. “But you never have to be nervous with me. It’s just sex, and it’s just us. I promise. Nothing will ever change that.”

“Says the man that started this whole arrangement because of sex,” you retort, and he grins.

“That was different.”

“How?”

“Because I already knew I liked you. The sex didn’t change that, it just confirmed it.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m serious. Need me to prove it to you?”

You exhale a gentle laugh as you take hold of his wrists and nuzzle into his touch. “No. I just…I don’t know. If I agree…I’ll have conditions.”

“Of course. And what are they?”

You think. “Uh…shit, I don’t know. We give it maybe a ten-minute trial run, and if we hate it, we stop.”

You can tell he’s fighting a rather smug smile as he nods once. “Okay. Deal.”

“And we have to put down a lot of towels. Like…cover the whole bed. Just in case.”

“Fine. Anything else?”

“We do it missionary. I think that’ll maybe be a bit…cleaner. Maybe.”

He smirks. “All right. Is that all?”

“You can’t look.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and lifts an eyebrow. “I can’t look?”

“Nope.”

“Bee…how am I supposed to fuck you if I can’t see what I’m doing?”

“I’ll tell you.”

“You’ll tell me?”

“Yeah. You know, tell you how to move and everything.”

He laughs again. “I think that’s overcomplicating things a bit.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be easy. It’s the same as me tying your hands.”

“That is not the same, and you know it.”

“Well…it’s my biggest condition. Either you don’t look, or we don’t do it.”

This time, he huffs. “This is silly.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

“But I still want to do it.”

“…seriously?”

“Seriously. I think you underestimate what I’d do for you.”

You pull your lip between your teeth and bite. “Har…we don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he says again. “I mean it. Yeah, I’d like to be able to see it. But…for a first time, if this is what you need to feel comfortable…then we’ll do it this way. Might even be fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, letting his hands drop to your hips while his mouth moves to your neck. “Having you tell me what to touch…how to touch it.”

You feel your breath hitch as his tongue takes a taste of the skin on your throat.

“You wanna be my eyes, Bee?” he whispers, in that low, dangerous way that makes your stomach drop to your toes. “Wanna tell me how pretty you look taking my cock? Tell me how wet you are, how you drip for me? How swollen your little clit is? How hard your nipples are—”

“Harry,” you breathe, head dropping back as his teeth graze the vein below your jaw. “Shit, stop—”

“Stop what?” You feel the tips of his fingers brush beneath the hem of your shirt, dancing across your stomach until you squirm. “Stop touching you? Or stop agreeing with you?”

Your hands disappear into his curls, and you tug as though your life depends on it. “Stop…being so good.”

You feel him grin into your shoulder as he guides you toward the bed. “No.”

The backs of your legs hit the mattress and you both tumble down while Harry works to keep his lips on your body.

His large hand hikes your leg over his hip until he can settle comfortably above you, groaning into your chest as you gasp for air.

“Please…” you hear yourself pant, nails scratching down his shoulder blades, desperate to bring him closer.

“I know,” he says, already tugging on your shirt. “I know. Gonna make it better, Bee. Promise.”

He grinds down, allowing for you to feel how hard he is, how bad he really wants this—needs this.

And despite the multiple layers between you, it’s exhilarating and so sweet. Making you whimper his name as you attempt to thrust up against his cock for a second time.

He pulls your shirt over your head, revealing your lavender colored bra to his hungry gaze, and smiles when he sees it.

“I like this one,” he tells you, and you chuckle as your head drops back onto the bed.

“I know. That’s why I wore it.”

“Good,” he whispers, returning his trail of wet kisses down your throat. “Good.”

And it is so good. So easy and effortless that you’re almost swept away by the current that is him. Drowning in his ability and his intentions as he lures you into the deepest depths of desire.

“Wait,” you whine the second his palms smooth up your thighs. “Wait…we need…I gotta get the towels.”

He groans as though his entire world has just collapsed, face burying into your neck as if to trap you. “Bee—”

“You promised,” you remind him, attempting to wiggle free. “Okay, I just need to get everything set up and then we can go.”

But he keeps his body pressed to yours, caging you to the bed as he pulls your earlobe between his teeth. “Don’t wanna stop. Just wanna make you feel good—”

“I know,” you murmur, grabbing a handful of his hip so you can force him onto his back. “And you will. Just one second. Go ahead and strip.”

He makes another depraved noise but does allow you to climb from the bed and rush to the bathroom.

After grabbing a plethora of towels, you return to find him sprawled naked across the blankets, sporting nothing more than a smug smile.

And you laugh before motioning for him to stand while you lay the cloth down. Although he pouts through every second of it. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and cock incredibly hard.

But once you’ve finally finished, he sighs with relief, and strides toward you.

“Hold on,” you call, hand outstretching to stop his advance. “I gotta grab the blindfold.”

“Bee,” he nearly scoffs. “You weren’t serious about that.”

“Deadly,” you retort as you move for the nightstand to find the silk tie. “Unless you’d rather we just don’t do it at all.”

He takes a deep breath, almost as if to settle his nerves before smiling softly. “Of course I want to. And of course we’ll do it this way if that's what you need. I just…you can’t blame me for grieving the loss.”

Entertained with his efforts, you chuckle to yourself and retrieve the scarf before gesturing for him to sit.

He’s quick to obey, perching on the edge of the mattress as he watches you approach. His expression bleeds willing anticipation, hands gathering in his lap, and eyes widening.

You come to a stop in front of his legs, unable to resist smiling down at your sunshine boy as you gently brush your fingers through the dark hairs atop his head.

His lashes flutter, head rolling back to follow your touch while humming contently beneath a soft breath.

“Thank you,” you whisper, a desperate fist clenching around your heart.

He blinks himself back to clarity. “For what?”

“For just…being you.”

A rush of adoration overwhelms his expression, his meadow-green eyes softening as he reaches down to take hold of your wrist.

“Of course,” he says before guiding the blindfold in your hand toward his head. “Go. I trust you.”

I trust you.

Overwhelmed by a surge of confidence, you dip down, and kiss him. Teeth and tongues clash as you each greedily steal a taste, breathing him in as though your life depends on it.

And once he’s settled in your lungs, you lean back, and slip the tie over his eyes.

His muscles tense the moment his vision is taken from him, but the delicate sweep of your fingertips across his skin as you secure the knot seems to undo the stress.

“You okay?” you ask, making sure to keep your voice quiet so as to not startle him.

He nods, chest rising and falling as he inhales deeply. “Mhm. Miss you already, though.”

You grin. “Okay, I’m gonna get ready. Don’t move, all right?”

Another nod, this one silent.

With a strange feeling in your stomach (that you can’t blame on cramps), you step back and begin to slip your shorts off.

You’re thankful that today’s flow isn’t too heavy. Although you’d still rather die than let him see.

But he’s patient, smiling to himself as he hears you rustle around, your aggravated huffs making him chuckle.

Finally, you’ve rid yourself of all clothing, leaving your thighs to squeeze together in an attempt to keep everything…intact.

You’d removed the tampon while you were in the bathroom, and now that you’re ready, and this is actually happening…your pulse begins to race.

“Bee?” Harry murmurs, almost as if sensing the shift. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Your voice is light. Airy. A tad strained as you timidly approach him. “I’m…yeah. Just…trying to wrap my head around it.”

He hums, straightening up slightly as if to comfort you. “I know, it’s okay. I’m here. M’right here. Don’t have to be nervous. It’s just us.”

“Just us,” you repeat, attempting to emblazon such a promise across your heart. “Always.”

“Always.”

You make yourself known to him, ghosting your fingers up the length of his arm and along the slope of his shoulder. “Okay…I’m ready. Are you?”

“Mhm. Just tell me what to do.”

But you don’t tell him.

You lead him.

You take his hand in yours and bring him to his feet. His grip is strong, grasping onto your palm so tight, you won’t be surprised to feel the residual aches tomorrow.

You walk to the foot of the bed and begin guiding your bodies down, leading him in a crawl across the towels. You go slow, making sure that he knows to brace himself with his other hand and with his knees as he follows you.

You can see the quiver in his stomach when he hovers himself above where you lay, the corners of his mouth dancing up in a delicate but shy smile.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmur, lifting to nose under his jaw and leave a reassuring kiss. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” His head drops, almost as if chasing after your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, one hand trailing down the rigid dips along his chest. “Your heart’s beating really fast, Har.”

“I know,” he says. “S’cause I’m excited.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Another nod. “Everything is you.”

Your stomach wrenches in the best possible way. “Really?”

“Really. Every one of my senses is just…you.”

You press your lips over his racing pulse. “Hope that’s a good thing.”

He grins. “It is. It’s everything.”

You kiss him. With each possible ounce of love you have to offer, and he groans against your tongue as he settles into the familiar mold of your mouth.

Muscle memory seems to serve him well as he makes his home between your thighs, palm already traveling down the curve of your hip.

And you know what he wants. What he aims to do, and as if out of reflex, you snatch onto his wrist and bring him to a stop.

“Wait,” you whisper, nose pressed to his cheek. “Sorry, I…I’m not—”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly, releasing his hold to intertwine his fingers with yours. “Lead me, Bee. Tell me what to do. Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you whimper, unable to deny the less-than-dull ache forming deep within your belly. Even nerves can’t tamp down such desire. “You, I just…I’m not sure—”

“We can go slow,” he tells you. “Until you’re ready.”

His assurance does absolutely nothing to ease the need in your heart and you whine to yourself before scratching your nails down his skin. “Don’t wanna go slow, I just…I just have to do it.”

But his head shakes. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Bee. We can stop right now. Do you need to call watermelon?”

“No.” You take hold of his face and squeeze. “No. No, I don’t want to stop. I wanna keep going. Wanna feel you. Need to feel you, Har.”

He lowers until he can press his forehead to yours and calm your jitters. “Okay. It’s okay. We can keep going. But only at your pace, all right?”

You wish you could see him. See his eyes. See the self-assuredness you know is there. The same self-assuredness that always manages to bring you back down after you’ve worked yourself up.

“Okay,” you whisper, kissing the tip of his nose.

He grips your hand. “Be my eyes. Only show me what you want me to see.”

It comes to you then. Hits you like a ton of bricks. Heavy and hard, the way it always does.

You love him. Love him more than anything in the world. As more than your partner…but as your best friend.

Encouraged by a new rush of adrenaline, you take your interlocked fingers and bring them to your chest, allowing him to feel the way your nipples have hardened.

He exhales a shaky breath upon contact, taking control the moment you let go to knead your tit in his large palm before dipping down to lick along it.

You gasp and arch up into his mouth, feeling more than settled now as he wraps his lips around you.

He takes a moment to tug it with his teeth, gentle but firm enough to feed your pain kink. And you nearly sigh with contentment as he swirls his tongue around the pebbled skin, clearly indulging in you.

“My pretty girl,” he groans, hand running up the side of your ribcage until it can take hold of your other breast. “Tell me how good you look in my mouth. Tell me how pretty you look between my fingers.”

“Shit—Har, please.”

“Feel good, darling?” His voice is a salacious purr, meant to entice you, meant to ruin you. “Want you to tell me. Tell me how pretty you look.”

Your fingers move for the hairs at the nape of his neck, brushing against the fabric around his head. “Feels so good—”

“Uh-uh,” he warns, lifting up and taking his mouth from you. Leaving your chest cold and untouched. “Tell me.”

You whimper again and attempt to scoot closer. “Pretty,” you repeat quietly. “Always look pretty in your hand. Always look better when you touch me.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and you feel yourself clench when you see the plump, pink fibers glisten beneath the light of your lamp.

“Good girl,” he whispers, allowing you to bring him close so you can kiss him, cursing when you nip at his mouth.

You take hold of his hand again and begin moving it down your body. Over the tender skin of your stomach and down toward your cunt.

He attempts to remain calm when he realizes where you’re leading him, but you can feel the pulsing in his wrist escalate the closer you get.

“Bee,” he murmurs as you brush the tips of his fingers along your inner thighs. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you answer through an anxious pant. “Can’t wait any longer.”

“Fuck,” he seethes against your cheek when his touch ghosts over your swollen clit. “Feel so fucking good, lovie. Wanna see you so bad—”

“Mm-mm,” you argue, grasping onto his curls. “Not this time.”

“Bee—”

“Touch me,” you quickly mewl, licking a strip along his jaw. “God, Harry, please. Please touch me. Need you…need—”

He pinches the sensitive nerves until you gasp and choke on the rest of your plea. But you don’t even mind because the rush of euphoria that shoots through your veins like heroin is everything. Almost more than you can handle, and you buck up into his hand.

“That easy, hm?” he teases before his fingers run down you, desperate to dive through the arousal and coat himself in it. “Knew you were all worked up. You’ve been needy for days, darling. Haven’t you? Just needing me to make it better?”

He’s right. You’re always needy for him but especially on your period. The one week you refuse to let him touch you.

You’re beginning to wonder why.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” he asks, mouth ghosting across your ear until a shiver dances down your spine. “Gonna let me fuck the pain away? Make you feel good again?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you, and begin rolling your body in time with his ministrations. Hoping to grind against his fingers until you find that sweet relief.

He smirks. “Anxious?”

“Little bit,” you retort, scratching down his back. “Shit…please. Please, baby—”

“I know,” he coos, taking his fingers from your pussy to squeeze your thigh. “Gonna have to do it for me, okay? Take my cock and use it.”

You whimper as you reach for him, more than ready to feel him in your hand as you guide him closer to you.

You try not to think about what comes next. Try not to think about what it is you’re about to do, or what his cock might look like covered in your blood.

He twitches the moment your palm smooths along his shaft, face burying deep within your shoulder to brace himself. “Sorry…fuck, feel like it’s been forever.”

“I know,” you agree, nuzzling your cheek against his temple.

“Feels so much better now,” he whispers, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “Feels…different, too. When I can’t see.”

You know exactly what he means, and you clench from the idea of what he must be experiencing right now.

Your fingers weave through his hair, and you tug until you can bring his head back out. Then, after releasing his cock, you smooth your thumbs over the blindfold, and lift up to place a kiss over each eye.

“Har?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He grins so wide, you can see his two little bunny teeth. “I love you,” he repeats, nestling his face against your hand. “Now please let me fuck you.”

And who are you to argue?

You take hold of him once more while his hand smooths down your hip to help guide your legs further apart.

And after some shifting and shuffling, you pump him slowly, and line him up.

“Ready?” you whisper, a bit coarser than you had intended.

He nods, swollen lips parting in anticipation. “Yes. Always. Go, Bee. Let me feel you.”

The moment the head of his cock brushes through you, you both tense and stumble over some rather pornographic moans.

After all, it’s been quite a while since the last time (around two weeks…which for the two of you feels like a lifetime), and this merely proves why you should never wait so long again.

It’s full, and it’s good, and it’s comfortable. Much more comfortable than you anticipated, and you can’t help but glance down to watch as he disappears into you.

His hands fist the duvet beside your shoulders as sucks in a sharp breath through clenched teeth before suddenly driving in to the hilt, forcing your gasp. “Shit…sorry. Sorry, m’so fucking sorry. Couldn’t…couldn’t wait—”

“It’s okay,” you whimper, wiggling a bit to get adjusted. “It’s okay. Feels good.”

“Yeah?” For some reason, this makes the muscles in his stomach quiver as he rolls back. “God, lovie. So fucking tight today. Fucking hell…don’t know if I’m gonna last long.”

“It’s okay,” you repeat, fingers painting patterns down his spine. “Just go. Go, fuck me. Do whatever you want. Don’t care, just want you—”

He snaps forward once more, bottoming out as you cry out his name and arch from the bed.

“Shh,” he murmurs, lips burying into your hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Talk to me, Bee. Be my eyes, come on. Tell me how good you look taking my cock. Tell me how fucking sweet your pretty little pussy treats me.”

Your mouth drops open in a silent whine as you wrap your arms around his neck and hike your leg around his hip. “So good, Har. Look so good inside me—”

“Shit.” His teeth graze your shoulder as he thrusts in again, doing his best to be gentle the way he promised, but losing the battle quickly. “Yeah? Like watching the way I stretch you?”

“Harry—”

“Oh, darling, you’re so wet. Fucking soaking me, aren’t you?”

You feel as though you are, but truth be told, you don’t want to look down and find out.

However, your silence breeds suspicion, and Harry’s hand blindly searches for your jaw until he can give it a quick squeeze.

“Bee,” he warns, in a low growl that makes your pulse skip. “Don’t do that. Don’t go quiet, don’t overthink.”

You whine a bit as your writhe beneath him, attempting to pull your face from his fingers. “Can’t help it—”

“Listen to me,” he hisses, pulling harder until you have no other choice but to go lax in his touch. “You feel so fucking good. All right? You have no fucking idea how good you feel right now. M’losing my goddamn mind. Don’t ever wanna stop fucking you—”

You can’t help but clench down until he’s lost the rest of his sentence, his hand dropping to your throat.

“Fucking devil,” he mumbles, working to create a faster rhythm as the room fills with steady whines, whimpers, and anxious gasps. Until the sound of him slipping in and out of your tight hole is echoing between the walls. Until everything is just him.

Soon, you don’t care about your period. About the possibility of a rather bloody mess or the idea that Harry will see you differently.

Soon, the only thing that matters is release. Is finding that end as the pleasure builds and builds like a tower of Jenga blocks in your stomach. Until it’s so tall, so heavy, so potent…you have no other choice but to let go.

His arm loops under your back, right near your hips while he tugs you up, needing a better angle as he continues to ruin you. And your body is pliable in his hands, nothing but jelly, meant to be tossed around like a toy.

“Give it to me,” he grunts, but there’s a certain plea beneath the virile command. Like he’s begging you to come on his cock, and your eyes roll back. “Fucking give it to me, Bee. Right now. Right fucking now—”

And you were already halfway there but then he reaches down your body, fingertips brushing against your clit, and you’re gone.

Toes curling, back arching, mind numbing. Your entire reality whittles down to him. And his cock, and his hands, and his come. The way it fills you not long after, painting your insides like a mural before leaking between your bodies.

And it’s sticky, and the room is hot, and your bodies are covered in sweat.

But it’s perfect.

Eventually, he reaches back for the knot behind his head, needing to see you. But you’re quick to stop him, guiding his arm back down until you can bury him against your chest and whisper, “Not yet. Just stay. Like this. Please.”

You can tell he wants to fight you. He loves seeing his come drip from your pussy, loves pushing it back in, loves licking it up.

But today, that’s out of the question, and when he realizes this, he sighs and allows his face to nuzzle into your neck.

You know he’ll need to regain his vision soon, but you don’t mind existing in this moment just a little while longer. You’d exist in every moment with him if you could, but you’ll settle for right here, right now.

“Bee?” he whispers, the sound of his loving nickname cutting through the quiet air.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

You smile so hard, the muscles in your cheek begin to ache. Your arms snake a bit tighter around his large body, squeezing him against your heart. “You’re silly.”

He grins.

A few minutes later, you make him a deal. You’ll lead him to the bathroom so you can both take a shower, and once you’re sure the evidence has been washed away, you’ll let him look.

He argues that this is a step beyond ridiculous and you argue that you’ll never fuck him again if he opens his eyes before you’re ready.

He gets quiet after that.

You both stumble a bit as you lead the blind man from the bed to the shower. You do your best not to survey the damage, but you catch a glimpse in your attempt at cleaning everything up. It’s not as bad as you anticipated. Your period has always seemed to mellow out whenever you’re lying horizontally.

Honestly, you’re not really sure what logistics are involved with that premise, but today, you’re just grateful they are.

You keep your palm over his closed eyes as you both step under the stream of water. His eyelashes tickle your skin whenever he attempts to blink, and you giggle from the soft feel.

After a minute or two of letting the soap do its thing, you drop your arm, and return his sight.

Those sage green irises find you as he works to adjust to the world around him. He squints for the better part of a minute before he’s smiling and taking in your wary expression.

“What’s wrong?” he hums, stepping closer to sneak his wet hands around your hips. “See? It was fine.”

“I know.” Your voice is small, eyes trained on the tattoo painted across his chest. “I do feel kind of stupid for making us do all of that.”

“What?” He leans back, brow raised. “Bee…I know I was talking shit, but you know I didn’t mind.”

“I know, I just…people have period sex all the time. It’s not a big deal, you’re right—”

His head begins to shake zealously as he backs you up against the tile, forcing your attention on him. “No, no, no. Don’t do that. That’s what you needed to do, and I pushed you to do it in the first place. I told you, I will do whatever you want. Anything. Anytime.”

“I know, but—”

“No. Enough. I don’t wanna hear it.” He presses his forehead to yours for a second time this evening, and you feel your stomach clench. “Trust me. That was one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever done. Not being able to see you almost killed me but everything else…god, I’ve never felt so overwhelmed by you.”

And for some reason, this vulnerable yet earnest confession creates a lump in your throat as you blink up at him.

“All I could hear, all I could touch, all I could taste…was just you,” he whispers, squeezing the skin on your waist to emphasize his point. “I would do that a hundred more times if that’s what you wanted.”

You whimper, blindsided by the sudden rush of emotions working their way to your waterline.

His strong hand moves for your cheek, cupping it sweetly as he presses a kiss beside your eye. “You can take my sight any day, Bee. As long as you promise to give it back. And let me see you again.”

You smile as a tear begins to slip down your skin, collecting in his palm before he wipes it away. “You know what you are?”

He presses his lips to your face one last time before leaning back. “What?”

Your eyes meet, and you grin.

“Silly.”

Yes I am perpetuating the idea that he could find it blindfolded 😗 BECAUSE HE COULD FIND IT BLINDFOLDED!!! Teach Me Harry could anyway and I will not be taking any questions or comments, thank you!!! (No I'm kidding but...he could)

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absurdthirst · 5 months

Text

A Marriage of Convenience {Regency!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.5k

Warnings: Dying parents, arranged marriages, mentions of dying in child birth, fear, anxiety, panic attacks, poor Pero has PTS, virgin reader, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), conversations about birth control, mentions of spousal beatings, pregnancy, childbirth

Comments: When your dying father sends you to Spain to wed Don Tovar, you know nothing about the man besides that he is a widower with two small children who will never love you. Finding your place in his household will take a stiff spine and a loving heart, making peace with your marriage of convenience.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Father, you cannot send me away.” You shake your head, dread welling in your stomach and you press your hand to the silken material of your day dress, the stays of your corset the only thing keeping you upright at this moment. Not that your stays are as tight as most of the noble ladies that come and go on the marriage mart. You have no desire to be married, to be chattel to a noble man and birth his children. Even though your father has just informed you that the man you are to marry already has children. A widower who is not so choosy as to a new wife that he is willing to take on an old maid who is nearly set upon the shelf and discarded at every social function during the season.

Pero Tovar is the name of the man you are to wed. Not only are you to be married off, but you will be shipped away from your home. Sent to Spain with no one that you know around you. Completely without allies and unable to easily go home if you are unhappy. Your father had met him in London and arranged your marriage before returning home to inform you. “Please.” You beg softly. “Do not make me marry a man I have never laid eyes on.”

“You have no choice. I am dying, daughter. You heard the doctor. I have months left. I do not wish to leave you without stability. The time has come for you to marry. I cannot allow you to delay it anymore. Tovar is a wealthy man. He has a large estate and two children from his late wife. He doesn’t need some young maid to birth children for his heir. He is stern but he has very strong morals. You’ll be safe with him and that’s all that matters. Please do not argue with a dying man.” Your father begs and you choke, tears stinging in your eyes as you embrace him and he rubs your back, knowing these moments before you go to Spain will be the last you spend together.

The day has come for you to leave your father, and despite your best efforts, you weep. Over the course of the month, he had grown more frail and could not even accompany you to Spain to see you wed in person. Embracing him in his sickbed, you know word would come that he had passed, your cousin inheriting the home you had grown up in, and all the wealth your father had accumulated. Your dowry is carefully packed into a large trunk, generous enough that if it had been known, several in London would have made you their wife. Instead, you will be Lady Tovar. “I love you.” You murmur, wishing you could stay until he had left this earth. “I love you father, I am sorry I was not the boy you wished to carry your legacy forward.”

Your father tuts, “don’t be silly, child. You are my life. After your mother died…you are everything to me. My world. I love you. If you could have everything, I’d give it to you.” He promises and cups your cheek, his hand shaking.

Your eyes sting with tears and you grip his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know.” You promise, reluctantly pulling back.

“Go. Go live your life. Just promise me you’ll be happy.” He orders and you sniff, wiping your cheeks and you nod. It takes everything in you to leave his chambers but you do and you make your way down to the carriage to begin the start of a very long journey to Spain.

The trip to the ship takes nearly a week. A broken carriage wheel, a broken axle, and a thrown shoe from one of the horses. It seems as if the entire trip is cursed. You occupy yourself by writing letters and reading a few of the books you had packed into your reticule. Wondering if your father has passed already and praying that he has not. When you finally reach the ship, you sigh as you stare at the sails. Rather than just a short journey across the channel, it will be another week, sailing up the coast of Spain before you disembark. Your betrothed’s men should meet you there to carry you to his summer estate in the country.

When you step foot on land, you are relieved and exhausted, anxious and ready to be in your new home. Your husband to be doesn’t come to greet you, not that you expected that anyway but you are greeted by his secretary. “Señorita, I am Carlos. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come this way, the carriage awaits us.” He says, gesturing to the horses behind him as the staff begins to gather your things to secure them for the final leg of your journey.

The carriage seems to be sturdy and soon you are pulling away. “Tell me about your lord.” You beg, having heard very little from your father beyond the rudimentary information. You want to know more about the man you are supposed to wed. “What is he like?” How a man treats his staff says a lot about him. That is what your father always told you.

Carlos looks at you, appraising you for a bit until he answers. “He is stern. Unforgiving but fair. He knows wrong from right and is only violent when the need occurs. He loved Maria, his first wife, but after she died, he has become a recluse. His children are cared for by the staff and he rarely interacts with them. If you want my honesty, señorita. The house needs life and love once again. It’s cold and lacking happiness.”

You bite your lip, repressing a small shiver. He sounds…..austere. Unyielding. You feel for the children who seem to have lost both their mother and father at the same time. “How old are the children?” You ask politely, aware that if he was not giving love and attention to his children, it would be your job. You remember how terribly you had missed your own mother, though your father had been your rock through grieving.

“They are five and seven. They do not remember their mother. Both too young. Luis - the youngest - was the child born when Maria lost her life. She doesn’t remember her mother. Alejandra, she - she doesn’t remember her either. They are - needing love and attention as all children do and their father - he is a busy man. That’s why he wanted a wife who was capable of nurturing his children when he is unable to.” Carlos explains and you glance out of the carriage as the Spanish port city turns to countryside.

“I see.” You wonder if the children are too painful a reminder of his late wife. If that was the reason he could not be around them. “And his holdings?” You ask. “He is a lord, is he busy with his lands?”

Carlos nods and sighs. “My lord works long hours to make sure that the estates and the lands that are used by his people are properly maintained.” He tells you, making you feel a bit better about the situation.

“Then I will make sure that he has a comfortable home and well behaved children to come home to.” You promise.

Carlos nods, appreciating your compliance and he watches you as you look back out of the window. You are beautiful, have an air of maturity the other girls, the local ones, had lacked. His lord has been searching for a wife for a while, but no one has fit his criteria. He doesn’t want a simpering girl who wants romance, he needs a partner who can assist him with his home and his children. Carlos knows that Pero’s heart is cold, iced over after the death of Maria and he doesn’t know if anyone can melt it.

The good thing about you is that you know that love and romance are not expected, nor required in most marriages. You aren’t a starry eyed little girl who will wish that her husband falls desperately in love with her. From everything you are hearing, that would be quite impossible. You will settle for mutual respect. The rest of the journey is spent quietly thinking, making plans for your new home that could be tossed out the window the moment you arrive. You do not even know if your future husband will be there to greet you.

When you pull up outside of the summer home of Don Pero Tovar, it’s beautiful and instantly takes your breath away. It’s picturesque and grand but when you have a closer look, you can see the cracks, the work that needs to be done. The shutters are crooked and need new paint. The flowers are gone and the paint is peeling everywhere. “Oh. I- it’s beautiful but-” You start and Carlos finishes your statement, “it needs work. After Señora Maria died, Don Tovar just let the place go, too preoccupied to maintain it.”

You nod, understanding that he might not have had the heart to continue to look after the details that make his estate a home for his family. “Then I will hire workers to restore his home to its former glory.” You decide with a smile, eager to get to work and contribute.

Carlos hums as the carriage comes to a stop, “if he allows it. He - it’s - it’s almost like he is stuck in the past, never moving forward.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “please señorita, don’t - he mustn’t know I said that.” He murmurs and you nod, “it’s our secret.” The secretary exhales and reaches out to open the door to the carriage, stepping out and holding out his hand to assist you down.

There is no staff lined up to greet you. No betrothed waiting at the door to introduce you to his household. The pots next to the large double doors of the house are empty, filled with dirt and sticks. Providing an unwelcoming air and you try to think of it as some kind of omen. “Well, it is late.” You excuse, biting your lip as you look around.

Carlos looks guilty as he opens the door to guide you inside to find the housekeeper, Señora Garcia. “Come, let’s take you to your quarters and we shall start fresh in the morning, you have had a long journey and I’m sure you’d rather meet everyone after resting.” Carlos says and Señora Garcia nods, “also, your lady’s maid, Carmen, will be waiting in your room to help you prepare for tonight. We will bring dinner to your room.”

You tilt your head. “Prepare for tonight?” You ask, confused by what he means. “What is happening tonight?” Surely he does not mean that Lord or Don Tovar meant to wed you tonight after you’ve only just arrived? You have not even met the man, you had hoped to have a conversation before he becomes your husband.

“The wedding.” Carlos says like you should’ve known. “Did no one inform you that Don Tovar wanted to be married as soon as you arrived?” You shake your head and Carlos sighs. “You are to be married tonight. Carmen will help you dress and we will bring your trunks up to your quarters. The wedding will be at eight. We will bring food to your room beforehand and a bath. You’ll be the lady of the house tonight.”

Closing your eyes, you try to suppress the tremble that races through you. Stiffening your spine and taking a breath before you open your eyes and nod. “I will be ready when Don Tovar says.” You agree, making Carlos nod in approval. “I would also like a cup of tea to be brought up, right away.”

Carlos nods, “sí, señorita. I’ll make sure you get your tea.” He assures you and you sigh, following Señora Garcia up the stairs to your quarters. The house is dark and damp and there seems to be no sign of life anywhere. You immediately feel alone and cold, regretting leaving your home, your dying father for this pitiful estate.

****

By the time your tea arrives, it’s accompanied by your meal. Cold and unappetizing, you wonder why the cook would send you a plate such as this. Investigating your room, you find that it has not been properly aired out, dust still sitting on the window sills and the candle holders not refreshed with new candles. It seems as if you are to be un-welcomed or the staff who works here is completely unskilled in how to run a house.

“Señorita, bienvenidos.” Carmen says as she walks in, “I am sorry I am late. I am your lady’s maid and I am here to assist you with getting you ready for your wedding to Don Tovar. Was your dinner acceptable, señorita?” She asks and notices your frown, “what is wrong?” She prompts, wanting to be there for the soon to be lady of the house.

“The meal was cold,” You explain, understanding that she is not to blame for that. “As was my tea.” You tilt your head and look at the lovely young woman. “Have you worked for the household for long?” You ask. “Is this how meals are normally delivered?” If it is some kind of custom, you would try to be more understanding, but you don’t think that it is.

Carmen shakes her head, “absolutely not. I- you shouldn’t have had a cold meal and cold tea. Please, señorita, let me get you a new, hot -”

You interrupt her, “no. It’s not - I’ve eaten it now and I do not have time to waste. I need to bathe and get ready for my future husband.” You inform her and she nods, “I will go fetch the hot water and we will get you ready.” She promises and rushes off.

You are grateful that your trunks have been delivered, your dress you had made clean, if slightly wrinkled from being packed. Airing it out, you had hoped you would wear this while marrying a man that you had met before, but it seems unlikely to happen now. You had not even heard any movement in the large house.

Carmen works diligently to clean you up, washing your back and making sure the dirt from the journey has been washed off prior to your wedding. Once you’re dry, she works on styling your hair and soon enough, it’s time for her to help you into your dress. “What’s he like?” You ask her as she buttons your dress and Carmen bites her lip. “He’s…direct but fair.”

“That seems to be what everyone says about him.” You hum. “Is he a handsome man?” Carmen glances at you nervously. “He- some think him handsome. But-“ she glances around your empty bedroom and lowers her voice. “He has a - a scar. Over his left eye.”

You inhale sharply, wondering how a man like Tovar got a scar over his eye. You’re worried now, scared that he is going to be a rough man. “He’s a good Don, fair and harsh but I think you will be good to have in this house. We need light, we need love. It’s been missing for far too long.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Carmen to declare that you look perfect. Your nerves flutter in your stomach and you press your hand to it in a meager effort to calm them. “Then perhaps you can show me a little of the estate while we walk to the chapel?” You assume that there is a chapel on the grounds that you will be married in. Giving your maid a weak smile, you try to hide the fear.

Carmen nods, “of course, señorita. Come, let us go now. Your intended will be waiting.” She says and you exhale shakily, trying to gather yourself to get married to a man you’ve never met before.

The estate is beautiful, the ground neglected like the house, although you can tell someone had once cared for them a great deal. You wonder if that was your soon to be husband's late wife. It doesn’t take long for you to see the stone chapel, overgrown and yet the soft candlelight coming from the windows gives it an enchanting glow. You take a deep breath and glance at the maid for some reassurances.

Carmen squeezes your arm and winks at you, “everything will be fine.” She promises but you both know she has no way to assure that. You stand in the entrance of the chapel when the violin starts to play and you swallow harshly when Carmen gestures it’s time for you to go. You exhale shakily and step foot into the main hall of the chapel.

****

When you step into the chapel, Pero keeps his back turned. Your father had shown him your miniature so he knows you are a beautiful woman. Not that it makes a difference. He has far exceeded the socially acceptable grieving period for Maria and now he’s expected to get a wife. He needs a mother for his children and a woman to maintain his estate. The music plays as you walk down the aisle and when you approach him, he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees your face. You’re gorgeous. A woman most men would kill to wed but he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about you filling the position that has remained empty in his home. He wonders if you like the look of him.

Your steps forward stumble briefly, but you recover. Catching your breath and smiling softly, you find him to be most handsome in a visceral, viral way. Rough and not exactly tamed, although many would say that you were possessed to think that way. HIs eyes are dark and watching you, making your skin heat and you wonder if your future husband approves of you. Stepping closer to him, you stop directly in front of him and take another breath. “Don Tovar.” You murmur, curtsying prettily.

You curtsy so perfectly, it’s almost enough to make him smile but he doesn’t. He hasn’t since Maria died. His life is now black and white, his love taking all of the color in the world with her when she died during childbirth. “Señorita.” He greets you and takes your hands, turning towards the priest who was called to marry you. Pero’s secretary and Carmen are to bear witness to the marriage and Pero is glad there’s no audience to see him remarry a woman he doesn’t even know.

The priest recites the vows in Spanish and you follow along closely. Listening as he proclaims that marriage is a sacred duty to your husband and you can barely look at your intended. Sneaking a glance and trying not to fidget. “I do.” You murmur quietly when you are asked if you take the Don as your husband. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, wondering if he is unhappy. He is frowning, he must be unhappy with his decision to marry you.

Pero remembers his wedding day to Maria. How excited he was. Young and eager before the days of war to marry the woman he loved. He was ready to have a future with her and it was ripped away from him on one fateful winter day. Tovar recites his vows and when the priest declares you husband and wife, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Welcome, mi esposa.” He whispers once you are married.

A kiss on the cheek was not what you expected, turning to find his lips when he pulls away leaves you flustered. “Gracias, husband.” You murmur quietly. His secretary and your maid clap quietly and you turn back to them with a smile, thanking them for witnessing your vows.

Pero takes your hand to guide you out of the chapel and to the carriage awaiting to take you back to the main home. Pero doesn’t say a word as you are carted back and when you arrive, the housekeeper takes your hand to assist you inside. “There’s no need to arrange our bed chamber. My bride will be spending the night in her own room.” Tovar reveals with a grunt.

“Yes, Don Tovar.” Carmen nods and you are left feeling rejected even if you had been nervous about the wedding night. It is silly to think of, but you hope it’s because he wishes to get to know you before you become intimate.

“Then I wish you a good night, husband.” You nod politely to him and wait for him to speak.

Pero turns to look at you, reaching for your hand and he bends down to kiss the back of it but it’s cold and emotionless. “Buenas noches, señora Tovar. I will see you tomorrow so we can discuss your duties. Carmen, escort her to her room. Garcia, vamos. We have much to discuss.” Tovar says to his secretary who nods and steps beside him as he strides over without a glance back towards you.

“I see what you mean.” You murmur to your lady’s maid as she starts to guide you back up the stairs. “He is devoid of much emotion, although at least he is polite.” It is better than some men that you had met. “Is there a library in the house?” You ask curiously. “I fear that I had brought many of my own books when packing my trunks.”

“There is a library, señora. It- it needs organizing. It has been neglected for many years but the children do study there during the day. It needs a refresh. Perhaps you may ask Don Tovar if he will provide you with the tools to refresh the room where the children learn.” She says and you hum, letting her escort you back to your chambers.

****

“She is beautiful, no?” Carlos asks his employer who grunts as he sits down in the chair, working on removing his shoes and his wedding attire, wanting to be comfortable. “She is but you know I don’t care for beauty. I need a woman to run the house. To show those fools in society that I have fulfilled their requirements. I don’t need her company, I just need her presence. Her father was desperate to marry her off before his death and her dowry was enough to keep her without spending my coin. She’s suitable for the role and I’m hoping the children will attach to her.” Pero says and Carlos nods, “we shall see.”

You wake up shrieking as a pitcher of cold water is tossed on your face while you lay in your bed. Bolting upright, you flail your arms, hearing giggling as you try to blink and see what or who is attacking you. Finding two children grinning at you in defiance as the oldest holds the empty pitcher in his hands. It is still dark outside, at least you think it is, for the curtains are still drawn over the large windows. Pero’s children. Your husband’s children have woken you up by throwing water on your face. You leap from the bed right as you hear the pounding of footsteps and the door to your room bursts open.

“Alejandra! Luis! Mierda!” Pero growls as he storms into the room to find his children standing there with their hands behind their backs. “What is wrong with you?” He growls, turning to face you when he sees you are soaking wet, his eyes dipping down to the white gown you’re wearing, now see through and he swallows harshly at the sight of your nipples. Carmen rushes in and he turns towards her. “Gather water for a bath to warm her up and get her a robe.” Pero demands and turns back to his children. “I was walking past when I heard the commotion. You cannot do that. Why would you do that?” Pero hisses at his children who stare at him defiantly.

“We thought it would be funny.” Alejandra answers and Pero inhales deeply.

“That is not acceptable. You will miss breakfast and today, you’ll be writing lines - saying you will not abuse your new mother.” He says lowly and Luis shakes his head, “she isn’t our mama. We don’t want her. We want our real mama.” Luis stomps his foot and Pero pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go to your rooms before I get the belt.” He threatens, knowing he wouldn’t actually hit them but every day they test him and push him closer to physical punishment.

“Papa-” Alejandra chokes and Pero hisses, “do not test me girl. Now get out of my sight.” He hisses and the children rush out of your room.

“I am sorry.” You murmur quietly, covering your arms over your chest and shivering in the cold. It is chilly in the room since there is not a fire laid in the grate and you wish that you did not feel so exposed with his eyes on you. “I- I do not know what happened.” you shake your head. “I was sleeping and then - I just - they do not wish for a new mother?” You had expected that the children were accepting of your new husband marrying again, but it is apparent they do not want you here. That will make things more difficult for you if you expect to forge any kind of bond with them.

“They are loyal to their mother.” He answers curtly, wanting to add that he is too but he feels that would be too insensitive. “They will come around. They have been troublesome and I am hoping a female presence will help them adjust.” He says and Carmen rushes over with your robe to help you cover up.

“Thank you.” You wrap the robe around you and find that your husband does not seem to care for you being here any more than his children and you swallow harshly, feeling incredibly alone. “I see.” You nod and decide that you might as well broach the subject since he is here. “Then I have permission to discipline the children?” You ask him. “If they are to respect me, then they need to see me as an authority figure as well as a motherly one.”

“Yes, but I do not physically punish them. You are welcome to discipline them as you see fit. I have struggled to control them. They do not seem to want to be around me and I - I must admit I am a little hopeless about how to handle them.” He confesses, “if you can control them, you’ll have my admiration.”

You nod, thankful that he will allow you to curtail his children’s rambunctiousness. “I also wish to reorganize the library and freshen up the house to make things more homey.” You add. You do not tell him that his home is desperately in need of repair, but that would be something that you would be able to tackle with a good scrubbing and a good airing out. “Would that be acceptable to you?”

Pero nods, unable to argue with you when you are doing exactly what he wants to be done. He needs his home to be returned to its former glory and his children to be nurtured and loved in ways he has failed. “Very well, señora. I will let you prepare for the day. Breakfast will be brought to you and you are permitted to explore the house as you see fit. It is your home now.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, wondering if you would ever have a meal with the man you call your husband. “However I will order dinner to be served in the dining room this evening.” It will be the first time you will have imposed your will and you wonder if he will dismiss your wishes. “Perhaps the children can join us?”

Tovar nods, “very well.” He doubts he will eat dinner with you. That implies that you are having some kind of relationship and that isn’t what this is. You’re here to fill a position like if he were to hire a new housekeeper. Pero stares at you for a moment before he steps back and makes his way down the hall to his office.

You blow out a breath, happy and yet slightly discontent with his answers and you feel like he has no intention of trying to get closer to you. It’s like he does not actually want you here, but needs you. “Well, good morning to you as well.” You huff sarcastically under your breath.

Pero continues on with his day, attending to the finances due at the end of the month for the tenant rents and salaries for the staff, signing off on the accounts for the food and necessities. It’s a laborious job but Carlos can only do so much. Your presence here will alleviate the household requirements from him but the estate needs maintenance. The day gets away from him and he is soon preparing for lunch.

You sigh, exhausted and wipe your brow as you collapse into a dusty couch and look around the room. The library will be days in the making to turn into a lovely place to read and teach the children. Who have been watching you warily and not paying attention to their tasks. They are seated at a table, their books open, but neither one of them has completed an assignment. “How do you like the gardens?” You ask, looking over at them. “Is it lovely to have picnics there for lunch?”

Alejandra glances at her brother before she answers you, “we don’t have picnics in the garden. Papa doesn’t really like for us to go outside.” She tells you and Luis nods his agreement, making you frown. “He says it’s dangerous to go outside in the gardens.”

You purse your lips, not remembering any kind of warning about staying out of the gardens. “Perhaps your papa means that it would be dangerous for you to go out there by yourselves?” you offer, standing up and wiping your hands on your apron that you had covered your day dress with. “Why don’t we see about having the cook make up some picnic food and we can take lunch out there? Explore and take in the fresh air.” It was obvious the children were bored and isolated, running around in the gardens would be good for you and them. Perhaps it would even help them like you.

Alejandra is cautious as she watches you, placing her pencil down so she can look at you properly. Luis tugs on her sleeve, shaking his head, and she pushes him off. “The garden, Luis.” She says pointedly and the little boy giggles, making you tilt your head. “What’s so funny?” You ask and Luis shakes his head. “Nothing.” Alejandra answers, “a picnic would be lovely.”

You frown but nod. “Alright. Put your books away and we will venture into the kitchen.” You smile. “Perhaps the cook has made cookies for us to have.” You shouldn’t bribe the children with sweets but you want to break through their prickly exteriors. They are still young and it has been a long time since their mother has been lost to them. “How does that sound?”

Luis nods, cautious but easily swayed by cookies. Alejandra is more reserved, offering you a look as she closes her book and you smile at her, trying to disarm her cautious nature. The children soon have their books stored away and they rush towards the kitchen, calling out for the cook who has become a mother figure for them. Señora Lola. “¡Ay niños!” She exclaims as they practically slide into the kitchen.

You can’t help but smile as the children greet the cook with obvious affection and your complaints about your first dinner being cold are forgotten for the moment. They hug the cook excitedly and both begin talking at once, turning and pointing to you. When the older woman looks up at you, you nod your head politely. “The children and I would like to have a picnic luncheon in the gardens.” You explain in Spanish. “Would we be able to put together a suitable fare for this?”

Lola nods, “of course, señora. I can prepare a basket for you and the children.” She assures you, “would you like a cup of tea while I prepare lunch?” She asks and you nod, moving to sit down at the kitchen table while the children tell Lola about their lessons. You can sense that she’s like a mother figure to the young ones and you’re glad they have had someone since their mother passed. Lola works fast to get you a cup of tea and the children a glass of milk while they wait.

“Thank you.” You watch as she moves about the kitchen, finding her to be quick and decisive as she gathers her ingredients. This is not a woman who is sloppy or resentful it seems. It makes you wonder why the food was so horrible the day before. When the kids are busy drinking their milk, you smile. “Tell me about yourself, Señora Lola. It is obvious you have been with the Don’s household for many years.”

Lola smiles, “my mother was the cook before she retired. My father was the Tovar’s butler and they fell in love and had me. Mi mamá taught me everything I know and we have been in the Tovar household for three generations. My son is a gardener. My husband is the groundskeeper. Maria - bless her soul - was the heart of the home. She lit up every room she was in.” Lola sighs and glances at the children.

“I understand that I am new.” You venture softly. “And I cannot replace Señora Tovar, but I would like to bring some comfort and happiness to her family.” You know that you can’t just force these people to accept you. Not when they had lived for so long with the ghost of the woman who had left them broken. You bite your lip. “Will you help me do that, Señora Lola?”

Lola nods, “if you can bring hope and light back to this home, you will forever have my admiration and gratefulness, señora. You are Señora Tovar now.” Lola tells you and you bite your lip as she prepares the lunch.

Once the lunch is packed away in a basket along with a large bottle of lemonade, you have Carmen bring you a quilt to spread on the grass to sit on. Guiding the children out of the large, glass doors into the garden, you smile at the bright sun and fresh air. The weather is beautiful and you can see yourself bringing the children out here often. “Where would you like to sit?” You ask, looking around the neat but barren gardens. It’s obvious Lola’s husband keeps them up but there has not been any new flowers or plants added for some time.

The children point to a spot near the pond and you allow them to guide you towards it. Carmen spreads out the blanket and you settle down with the children. Pero is standing up to stretch when he sees you and the children on the lawn. He tilts his head and wonders how you managed to get them to sit down for more than five minutes. Maybe he did make the right decision.

Eating outside seems to have been a magical treat for the kids. They ate politely and minded their manners after the promise of running around after they finished was made. You can tell they enjoyed it and by the time you had to pack up to go back to the house to finish their lessons they were sleepy. Making you smile at the way they leaned against one another.

****

“Señora, is this the color you prefer for the drapes?” Carmen asks you as you appraise the different materials and pattern samples. It’s been a month since you’ve been in Pero’s home and you have been slowly working on bringing the home back to its former glory. The children have grown closer to you, wanting their meals in your company, yet still no sign of your husband.

Pero walks down the hall, the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls and he notices the change of the decor. Everything seems dusted and shiny, and the rugs are pristine. It’s fresher and brighter. He knows it’s your doing and that makes him smile, assured he made the right decision to marry you.

“I think it will look lovely in the breakfast dining room, don’t you?” You ask, finding Carmen to be a wealth of information and a good judge of character and design. As the two of you had grown closer the more time you spent going through the house room by room. Even the kids were helping when it was time to scrub walls and beat rugs out in the garden. You had turned it into a game where you covered their eyes and spun them around before they whacked the rugs with a broom. They had giggled and fallen down, but it was worth the extra time it had taken to freshen the rugs. “Perhaps, even if he does not dine with me, Don Tovar might enjoy reading his paper and drinking his tea in a bright and cheerful room.”

“Papa! Papa!” Alejandra rushes up to her father who is shocked at her cheerful greeting.

“Sí, mi tresoro.” He answers and she grins, “we are going into town today.” She declares and Pero frowns, not liking the idea.

“Whose idea is this?” He asks lowly and Alejandra says your name. Pero sighs and tells his daughter to lead him to you. She takes his hand and guides him to the kitchen where you are sitting with Lola. “Hola.” He greets his cook who smiles at him and says “hola señor.” His dark eyes turn to you, “Alejandra tells me you are taking the children into town today?”

“I am.” You nod as you set down the book you are making notes in. Carmen hustles to put the fabrics away and you send your husband a small smile. “The children need new shoes and I have several merchants that I wish to visit.” You glance at Alejandra with a proud look. “The children have assured me that they will be well behaved, and they are excited to spend their own pin money.”

Pero frowns, “I do not like them going into town. I do not want you going into town. It is dangerous.” He says, remembering when Maria went into town while with child and was knocked over. She went into labor early with Luis and that’s the night that she died. His hands shake a little and he shakes his head, “you are not going. I forbid it.”

Your brow arches and you look towards Carmen and Lola. Both women quickly bow and disappear. “Alejandra,” you urge his daughter. “Go and find your brother.” You urge her as you stand up and brush your dress down. If you are going to disagree with your husband, you are not going to do it in front of the staff or his children.

Pero meets your defiant gaze and he clears his throat, “I will not allow you to go into town. It’s dangerous. If you need something, you can tell the staff and they will go and get it.” He compromises and you glance around to make sure no one is around.

“Don Tovar, I appreciate your concern for my well-being but I am not a child and I will not be held hostage on your estate.” You declare. “I will take a footman and a driver with me, and exercise all caution. But I am going to town. Now….is there anything you wish for me to get while we are there?”

Pero clenches his jaw, remembering that moment Maria was carried into the house, her screams still echo through the halls of his mind. “No. I forbid it. You won’t be leaving this estate. That’s an order.” He growls, reaching for your wrist to grip it, his hand shaking as he remembers the night Maria died.

You wince when he grabs your wrist, squeezing it hard enough that your breath catches in pain. You wrench your wrist away from him, yanking your arm down and stepping back, your eyes wide with both fear and anger. "I am your wife. Not your servant." You manage to keep the fear from making your voice tremble.

“You can’t go. I - I can’t - Maria - she- please. You cannot go.” He shakes his head, his chest starting to heave and he hates how anxious he’s become at the thought of losing more from his life. He has barely spent a moment with you since the wedding but the idea of his children losing another woman from their lives makes his chest tighten.

Fear turns to worry, making you step forward and reaching for his arm. “Pero?” You do not use his Christian name often, but you use it now. “What is wrong? Take a breath.” You urge him, frowning at the way that your husband has turned from cold and demanding to panicked. “Talk to me.”

He pants, unable to calm himself down, and he clings to you, pulling you close and he can’t control his thumping heart, remembering the night he lost Maria, the night he lost the light of his life. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself but he’s failing.

You nearly stumble, but you don’t resist him. Holding onto your husband’s waist while he trembles. He’s obviously horrified by the idea and you can’t understand why but you don’t want to make him do this. “Alright, alright, I will not go into town.” You give in, hating that you are but perhaps you can talk to him and come to agreement later on when he has calmed down.

Pero inhales deeply, remembering what his doctor told him to do, and he tries to calm himself down, grounding himself with your touch. He takes several moments before he opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I- I’m sorry, esposa.” He murmurs, his hands still gripping you.

"It is alright." You murmur soothingly, wanting nothing more than to make him feel comfortable around you. You are supposed to be here to help him, and it seems like he needs help with this. "I am here, I am right here." You assure him with a smile.

When you smile at him, he jerks back and lowers his hands, the shield back up as he gathers himself and clears his throat. “I, uh, I am going to go - go back to my office. I trust you will send Carmen in your place to town.” Pero says and quickly turns to rush back to his office, away from you and the children once more.

You stare after your husband, completely flabbergasted and frustrated. The man dictates that you must stay at the estate, not go to town and has an apoplexy before fleeing back to his study without giving you a reason why you must be a hostage. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, you turn and curse your husband's stubbornness. You need to know what happened to Maria and why town is forbidden.

Alejandra and Luis shake their heads when you tell them you are no longer heading into town. “Please. Tell Papa we must go!” Alejandra whines, clinging to your skirts.

“I’m sorry, amor. He won’t allow us. We must listen to him.” You say and she shakes her head and looks up at you to stomp her foot.

“I hate him!” She cries and runs off, followed by Luis. You sigh and sit down just as Carmen comes over with a tea tray.

“Señora, I do not wish to speak out of turn.” She says and you shake your head, “when do we hide our feelings and thoughts, mi amiga.” You smile at her and she smiles back, glancing around when she takes a seat beside you.

“Don Tovar has - has a lot of fears about you going into town because that was the night he lost Maria.”

You frown, unsure of why going into town would cause a woman to die in childbirth, but you take your tea and listen. “I do not understand.” You shake your head. “Maria died giving birth to Luis, I thought?” You frown, knowing you will need to soothe the children’s feelings later on, but you want them to be able to calm down before you try. If you know why your husband fears it so, you can explain better to disappointed young children who don’t understand why they cannot have fun.

Carmen glances around again, “Maria was far along with Luis when she wanted to go into town to fetch more yarn for knitting. She - she was an independent woman and Don Tovar, he - he worshiped the ground she walked on. She loved him and he loved her. When she went into town, she was robbed for her jewels and coins and thrown to the ground and it sent her into early labor. The thugs were never apprehended and she was rushed home and the doctor was called. That was the night Luis was born and Maria died. They thought Luis was going to die too but he survived. Don Tovar was never the same.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders slump and you can understand why Pero is fearful of his wife going to town now. Even if he does not love you, the children have grown close to you and it would hurt them to lose you. “That is so sad.” You look down into your tea with a sigh and wish for a moment that this had been explained to you sooner. “I better understand why he is so hesitant, but he cannot think that the children will be kept here forever, does he?”

“He has…attacks when he has concerns about the children’s safety. I think - I do not wish to speak out of place but I think that’s why he has pushed the children away.” Carmen says and you nod in understanding. “I think he wishes he could connect with them but it’s hard since all he sees is Maria. He loved her. She was his childhood sweetheart and they married young before he left to fight in the war.”

You sigh softly, knowing you would find it romantic if he didn’t push his children away. To close himself off from pain. “Then I will make him.” You decide with a firm press of your lips. “I will go talk to the children. Inform Lola that the children and I will be taking lunch in Don Tovar’s study.” You decide. “Since he refuses to take his meals in the dining room, we will come to him.”

Carmen won’t argue with you, knowing it is futile, so she nods. “Very well, señora. I will tell Lola now and will let Carlos know.”

You shake your head, “not Carlos. I want it to be a surprise.” You say and she nods, “sí, señora.” You smile and she stands, bowing her head before she exits the room, leaving you with the news to tell the children.

****

Pero looks up from his papers when there is a knock on the door and he calls out “come in.” When you enter followed by the children, he’s shocked. “Señora?” He frowns, setting his pen down.

“Husband.” You send him a smile and guide the children over to the table that sits in front of the sofa and they sit down. Alejandra is still pouting, but her tears have dried and she is not so angry when she was told her papa feared for her safety. “Carmen will be bringing in our lunch soon.” You explain with a cheerful smile. “I thought that since you work so hard and are so busy, we would join you here to have lunch together.”

Pero’s frown deepens, “lunch together? Are you not able to have lunch in the kitchen?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him.

Pero bites his lip and you answer him, “the children would like to spend some time with their father seeing as we are no longer going into town.” You say and Alejandra stands up to walk over to Pero, reaching for his hand, “please papa. Let us have lunch together.” Her pout is Pero’s unraveling as he nods, standing up from his desk chair to walk towards the sofa.

Luis grins, unaware and still too young to understand his father’s hesitancy, but he begins to tell his father about the Spanish Armada that the governess is teaching the children about lately. “Sí, mijo. The English defeated us.” His dark eyes meet yours as he answers questions Luis excitedly asks him and he seems to relax a little. Lola and Carmen bring the meal in and the four of you begin to eat.

“I have decided to ask Carmen to direct any traveling merchants to our house when they are going through town.” You take a sip of your tea and look at your husband. “As well as inquire about children that are near Luis and Alejandra’s age that might wish to come play with them. Soon the house will be ready for visitors.”

Pero frowns, “why would we require merchants to come to my home?” He asks as he picks up his glass of wine. “And for the other children…I suppose it will be good for them to mingle with others.” He concedes that point, glancing at you and he’s taken back once again by your beauty, especially when the light hits your face.

“We require merchants to come to your home because the children need new shoes, their own are pinching their feet and the cobbler cannot make their shoes without measuring their feet.” You point out. “Also, I enjoy socializing and since I am not permitted to go to town, I will simply have town come to me.”

Pero sets his wine glass down, “I suppose that is for the best. I want the children to have everything they need, I want you to have everything you need. You - I am guessing one of the staff told you about Maria?” He asks, curious if anything has been said about his behavior.

You could lie to him, but you don’t. “I was told about the night Luis was born.” You admit softly, understanding how such a thing could haunt the man, especially since he was a soldier in the war. You wonder if the poor boy you have come to love even gets any acknowledgement on his birthing day, or if grief is too overwhelming. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

Pero swallows the lump that always forms in his throat when he thinks about Maria and that fateful night. In a way, he’s glad he didn’t have to discuss it with you, to relive that horrid night, but another part of him knows he needs to discuss it with you, to tell you why he brought you here and has yet to consummate the marriage. That time is not now though with the children here. “Gracias, mi esposa. I- I would like to have supper with you tonight…if you want.”

Your head tilts in surprise but you don’t voice it. “That would be lovely, Don Tovar.” You murmur softly, aware that he is asking for a dinner that is apart from the children. “I will ask that Lola makes your favorite dish.” You offer, smiling slightly. “Do you have any preference for dessert?”

Pero’s gaze dips down to your cleavage. You are a beautiful woman and he has not indulged in pleasure since Maria died apart from a few times where he had spent his coin and then felt incredibly guilty after when he felt like he was betraying his beloved wife. Tonight is about giving your marriage a chance, giving you a chance when he’s been so closed off from you since your wedding night.

You don’t miss the way that your husband's eyes dip down to your breasts and you wonder if he has finally decided to acknowledge that he has a wife. You aren’t ignorant of the relationship between man and wife and yet you have still retained your chastity well into your marriage. Pero mumbles something about a sweet and you nod. “I will make sure that is what you get, if you so desire.”

He nods in appreciation and Luis takes his attention by handing him a cookie from the tray. “Gracias, mi amor.” Pero smiles at his son.

“Papa, will you come and ride with us tomorrow?” Alejandra asks, wanting him to join them for their riding lessons.

“I- I am busy, mija. I-”

Alejandra shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. “Papa. I want - please.” She begs and Pero looks at you, a little lost.

“Your Papa is a very busy man, sweetheart.” You remind her gently. “Although, I believe that he should be able to join you for at least one hour? Yes, Don Tovar?” You ask, glancing from Alejandra to your husband. It will allow the children to see their father and still not take too much time away from his busy work. Although you feel as if he spends much of his time working so he does not have to grieve. “How does that sound?”

Alejandra nods, “please papa. Just an hour. Por favor.” She pleads and Pero nods, not wanting to see his daughter so pouty.

“Sí, mi amor. An hour. Let’s go riding for an hour.” He compromises and she surges forward to hug his arm, “¡gracias, papa!”

You smile at your husband’s shocked face when his daughter smothers him in affection. Nodding when he looks over at you, asking if he is doing things right or perhaps seeking help. He’s doing something that will make his children very happy and it’s a good thing. “Now we need to finish eating.” You tell the children. “Papa needs to get back to work, so finish your lunch so we can leave him to it.”

Pero nods, rubbing Alejandra’s back and he leans down to kiss her head. He can’t deny the way his heart twists at how much he’s missed out on with his little girl and his son. He knows he needs to be a better father to them. “Let’s finish eating.” He says and Alejandra nods, letting go of her father to settle down to eat. Lunch is finished in companionable silence and Pero is soon kissing his children on the head, promising them he will have dinner with them tomorrow.

“Go start your studies again.” You tell the children, smiling when they rush off and you turn towards your husband, slightly flustered to be alone with him for the first time. “I will clean up and get this mess out of your hair.” You promise. “Thank you for not turning them away. They talk about their papa every day and want to spend time with you.”

Pero smiles, watching the children rush off after kissing his cheek then yours, and Pero watches them with his heart thumping. “Gracias, señora. You - you brought me back to my children and I- I never knew how to bridge the gap. I- I cannot repay you for that.”

“There is no need for repayment, Don Tovar.” You assure him, still calling him by his formal title since he has never permitted you to use his Christian name. “That is my job.” You know that he would rather be quit of your presence so you nod and quickly turn around to gather the meals up onto the trays to be carried back to the kitchen.

Pero swallows harshly, “please…call me Pero.” He says and reaches for your hand. He squeezes it, and his heart twists as he thinks about you and how beautiful you are yet he feels like he’s betraying Maria.

“P-Pero.” you murmur, feeling shy now that he has stopped you from your task. You bite your lip as you stare into his dark eyes, wishing that you could tell him how handsome you find him. “Is there - something else you wished for, Pero?” You ask quietly.

Pero stares at you for a moment before he withdraws his hand. This is progress but he knows he shouldn’t venture into his attraction to you. It will only lead to heartbreak, either his or the children’s. “No. That is all. I shall see you later for supper.” He says and clears his throat.

You are disappointed, knowing that he wanted something else but you don’t push him. He had shown that he had no wish to have a relationship with you. “Yes, Don Tovar.” You revert back to your formal politeness and you pick up one of the trays and you will send Carmen in to gather the other. “Good afternoon.”

Pero frowns, wishing to hear his Christian name from your lips and when you carry the tray out of the room, he leans back against the chair, sighing and rubbing his face. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. For the children’s sake. Dinner tonight will be his chance to redeem his terrible behavior.

The rest of the day is spent with the children. After asking Lola to make the Don’s favorite meal, you had finished their lessons and then took them down to the kitchen for both their dinner and their baths. Laughing when they pouted when getting into the water, and then pouting when they had to get out. Once they are clean and in their nightclothes, you chatter and joke with them as you take them back upstairs to put them to bed. Leaving you little time to get ready for dinner with your husband, but it is for the best. You had no time to think about why he wanted to have dinner with you now, so long after your marriage.

Pero adjusts his jacket - not the latest trends but well made, none the less- and he paces in the dining room, wondering if you aren’t coming as the minutes tick by. When you finally appear, you look beautiful and his heart flutters in his chest after laying dormant for so long. He strides forward, taking your hand in his and leans down to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Esposa, you look beautiful.”

“Forgive me for being late, Don Tovar.” You curtsy for him and hate how handsome he is in his evening jacket. “The children were begging for another story before bed and I could not say no.” Your own preparation for dinner had been rushed and you hope that he is not disappointed by your appearance.

Pero shakes his head, “don’t be silly, esposa. The children come first. I trust they are in bed?” He asks and you nod, “they are asleep and in bed.” You smile and Pero keeps your hand in his so he can guide you to your chair. He pulls it out and helps you sit before he makes his way over to his own seat.

Once you are seated, Pero sits across from you and Carmen immediately marches into the dining room with the first course. “Don,” you venture, smiling your thanks to Carmen as she sets down the soup. “I believe that we should hire more staff.” You tell him. “My maid also acts as the housekeeper and now she is serving our dinner. I believe that we need a butler and perhaps a full time housekeeper. That way we are not overworking our staff.”

“You are in charge of the household. If you wish to have another, I will have Carlos and Lola ask around in town.”

You lift a brow in surprise, your soup spoon nearly to your mouth and you take your bite and swallow before you respond. “Thank you, I will have them ask immediately.” You smile at him again and Pero glances back down at his own soup as if he is shy. “The children are excited about riding with you tomorrow. I was surprised they had not learned already but they have come so far in their lessons.” If it is a rebuke, it is a small one. The children had been very far behind in their lessons and some had not started at all. You had been working diligently to get them on track to where they should be. “They are very bright children. You should be very proud of them.”

Pero’s stomach twists with guilt. He barely knows his children. He doesn’t know that they are behind in their studies when you mention they have much to learn. The guilt twists in his stomach again and he knows he can’t hide from them anymore. “I am.” He answers softly, offering you a rare smile. You are so kind, he doesn’t want to tarnish you with his sins.

Surprised by the smile, you offer one of your own and hope that he is starting to care. You continue to eat in silence, waiting for Pero to talk to you but the silent sounds of eating settles between you. It’s sad, really. This man doesn’t have more questions about his children and doesn’t seem interested in them. When you are done, you set your spoon down and quietly wait for the next course.

Carmen brings in the next course and Pero is struggling to find the words to make conversation. It’s been so long since he had dinner with someone and he’s a little out of practice with his etiquette. “Are you liking Spain or do you miss your home?” He asks you after rubbing his hands together.

“Truly?” You shrug one shoulder and look down at the plate in front of you. “I have not seen much of the country since the carriage ride to your estate.” You remind him, trapped here by your husband’s wishes. “But what I have seen is beautiful. Carlos is very hopeful we can restore the gardens and the greenhouse to their former glory.” You had learned that Pero had ordered that the garden not be planted, just maintained. As flowers would die off, they would not be replanted. At least until you had arrived. You suppose it was because Pero’s first wife had loved spending time in the gardens. The little pond of water had apparently been her favorite spot.

Pero wants to bite out that the gardens are not to be touched but then he remembers why he brought you here to marry him. He needs someone to maintain his home. “Perhaps we can take a ride soon, I would like to show you my country.” He says softly and looks up after he cuts into his meat.

“I would like that.” He might not mean it. Might not ever do it, since he seems to blow so hot and cold, but you smile. “I have missed riding.” You haven’t gone for rides since the children would want to come with you and they were not accomplished enough to go so far and you do not know the area. “But there has been plenty to keep me busy. Have you any opinion on the changes, Don Tovar?”

Tovar looks out of the window to the beautiful gardens, now full of flowers after your dedication to the garden, and he turns to look back at you. “The gardens looks gorgeous, mi esposa.” He says and turns back to his meal. “You are bringing the estate back to its former glory.”

“Thank you.” You feel proud that even if he is a man who does not interact with you much, that he sees your improvements to his home. “Was there anything that you wished to discuss with me?” You ask quietly. “I thought that might be why you asked me to have dinner with you?”

Pero sighs, setting down his cutlery. “I wanted to discuss…if you were looking to have children of your own. We never got a chance to discuss it and I wanted to address the matter as it would mean us…consummating our marriage.” He says, trying to be as matter of fact as possible.

“I had hoped to one day have children.” You confess setting your own cutlery down and hate how handsome he is despite how aloof he acts. “I have put those dreams aside, now.” You look away, back down at your food and you aren’t hungry anymore. “It does not seem that you are interested in….consummating our marriage.”

Picking up his glass of wine, Pero knows he has failed in your marriage already. He’s been selfish and he isn’t sure how he can fix it. The thought of betraying Maria in this final way has his stomach twisting. “Are you- are you interested in consummating the marriage?” He asks softly.

You need to be honest with him. So you are. “I am not interested in being used.” You admit bluntly. “I have no experience with intimate relations, but I do know what to expect.” You assure him. “However, I would not accept being used to fulfill your needs and then ignored until the next time you have use of my body.” You could very well ruin your chances of any kind of relationship with Pero, but he asked. “You are a very handsome man, and I have found myself thinking about you often, but if you have every intention of satisfying your lust and then pretending I don’t exist until the next time you want to touch me, I would rather you just leave me untouched.

Pero nods, appreciating your candor and the way you hold yourself. It makes you more attractive to him. He sips his wine as he contemplates his answer. “I do not wish for you to feel used and I am not capable at this time of more than physical release. If you wish to experience pleasure, I will ensure you are satisfied with our marital bed. However, if you yearn for an emotional connection, then I would suggest we permanently place any relations on hold.”

You smile, albeit sadly. “Don Tovar, I have never expected love in an arrangement. I am not a silly, romantic girl. However, I will require you to respect me if we were to share our marital bed. Take your meals with me and perhaps some evenings beyond our pursuit of pleasure. I don’t require your heart, I know your first marriage was one of love and your affections still lay with your late wife.”

Pero is taken back by your refute to his offer but he appreciates your directness. “Very well. I assure you that I will try my best to ensure you are satisfied physically. Shall we - would tonight be appropriate or do you wish to wait until it happens naturally?”

You hum, amused by the idea of physical relations happening naturally with a man who has not spent more than two hours in your presence since you have been married to him. Perhaps it is foolish, but you want to know what it is like to be touched. “Tonight is fine.” You assure him and pick up your cutlery again. “Do you have any preference for physical intimacy? I do not have any reference, so I will need to be told if there is something I should not do. Or should do.”

Pero nods, “very well. Let us finish our meal and I will allow you as much time as you require to get ready for our consummation.” He assures you and continues to cut into his meal so he can finish eating. Dessert is soon served and you eat in companionable silence before the dishes are cleared away. “Take your time.” He tells you as he stands and waits for you to gather yourself from the dining room table.

You nod. “Give me twenty minutes.” You ask as he takes your hand to walk you to the stairs. “Then I will be ready.” You noticed that he did not answer you about his preferences but figure that he would just show you tonight. After all, it is a husband's job to teach his wife about how he prefers love making.

Pero watches you walk up the stairs and he exhales shakily, realizing that this will be a big step towards cementing your marriage as husband and wife tonight. He clears his throat and makes his way to his chambers to clean himself up. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate but he remembers that women do not like being with men who smell like a long day. He washes and dresses in his linen nightshirt, deciding to keep things simple for the act. Inhaling deeply, he makes his way down the hall to your chambers.

Tovar knocks on the door, heart thumping in his chest, and when you call out for him to come in, he slowly opens the door. “Hola, esposa.” He murmurs after he shuts it behind him. He takes in your figure, glowing in the firelight and his cock twitches under his shirt.

“Hello, husband.” You bite your lip and wonder how he will approach you and this. “What- what do you want me to do?” You ask, watching him carefully, more nervous than you had expected to be. You don’t think he will hurt you, but you had been told the first time is painful and that you would learn to enjoy it. “Do you wish me to get on the bed?”

Pero shakes his head, walking over to you to take your hands in his and he exhales shakily, suddenly nervous. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman, especially his wife. His heart clenches when he briefly thinks of Maria but he pushes that aside. “Esposa, eres hermosa.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand so he can reach up to caress your cheek. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. You deserve better than him, than some half shell of the man he used to be. He slides his hand down to caress your neck and your collarbone, his fingers playing with the edge of your gown. “Can I take this off?” He asks, his dark eyes meeting yours, burning like embers in the flames of the fire.

Mouth dry from that simple touch, you nod. Watching him as his eyes seem to shine like a dark flame and you can help but to think that he is most handsome. His hands skim down over your waist and he tangles the material of your nightgown in his fingers and slowly starts to drag it up. Exposing you to the warmth of the fire and it makes you even hotter as your skin starts to burn from the simplest touch. Tonight you will just let him touch you, hopefully show you what he likes. Maybe you can help him by letting him find pleasure with you.

Pero tosses your gown to the floor and steps back, his dark eyes running down the length of your body. His eyes focus on your tits, swallowing harshly as his gaze lowers to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs. “Hermosa.” He murmurs, stepping closer to you, and he reaches out to caress your waist, pulling you up against his body. “Tell me if you want to stop. Or you don’t like anything.”

You nod, wanting to touch him but you don’t ask. Knowing you would hate feeling rejected if he pulled away. Your breathing stutters as his fingers slide up and brush the underside of your breast, nipple hardening and you bite your lip so you don’t moan wantonly. “Pero….” Your whisper is soft, pleading and you wonder why you are so eager to have this man touch you.

His hand squeezes your breast until he notices that you want to touch him so he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “You can touch me, esposa.” He assures you, inhaling the scent of your bath oil as he leans in to run his nose along the length of your neck.

His own dressing gown is hanging open at the neck and your fingers slide inside to touch hot, tanned skin. Biting your lip and trying to concentrate as his fingers brush over your nipple and make you gasp. Looking down, you see the gown tenting over his cock and your cheeks burn, but you are curious to see what it looks like, reaching down and brushing the fabric close so you can see better.

Pero hisses when your innocent fingers brush his cock. He reaches down, guiding you to wrap your fingers around him. His skin is hot and velvety and you explore him with utter lack of knowledge but he enjoys it. He likes that you have no expectations of him. He can just feel. He murmurs your name and his hand lets go of yours, letting you explore him while his palms continue their own adventure, palming your ass in his grip.

It feels wicked and yet you know that it is perfectly natural to touch him. You need to learn how he feels since he is perhaps the only man you would ever sleep with. Unless you remarry and your husband is obviously a hale and hearty man. “It is so hard.” You murmur in wonder. “And yet so soft.” You gasp when you feel a wetness on your skin and look down to see a smear of liquid on your finger.

He refrains from chuckling at your virginal observations. “Take your time, esposa. We are in no rush. No rush at all. I want to make sure you feel good.” He assures you and he slides his hand down between your legs, finding you wet and wanting him. He loves that and he is going to make you cum. From his fingers, from his cock. He finds your clit and loves the gasp that escapes you as he starts to rub the bundle of nerves.

Your eyes flutter closed and you hand to cling to his shoulder before your knees buckle. “Oh…ohhhh my….” You whimper, your grip on his cock loosening. You don’t know what he’s doing to you but you need more of it. “Pero.”

Pero grabs your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against him while he works your clit. His lips brush your neck by accident and you shiver against him. He rubs your clit a little faster, wanting you to cum for him for the first time. “That’s it, esposa.”

He doesn’t seem to mind touching you, increasing how fast he is rubbing but he’s groaning against your ear and encouraging you. For what you don’t know, you just know that your stomach is fluttering and clenching right up until stars burst behind your eye and you gasp as your cunt clenches on its own and a wave of heat floods your core.

Pero keeps you upright, working you through it and groaning when you bury your face in his neck. He groans your name softly and slides his finger back to gently push it inside of you, wanting to stretch you out so you feel less pain when he finally fucks you.

“Ohhhhhh.” Your eyes wide, mouth hit against his skin as you moan. Surprised to feel his fingers inside you and your body jolts when he pushes them up and presses against something inside you, “oh Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and unable to help yourself, you kiss his neck.

He curls his fingers, knowing he needs to make this good for you. He pushes his fingers a little deeper, loving the way you kiss his neck and he knows he should stop you but the intimacy makes his heart twist, his stomach clench. It’s been so long since he enjoyed the touch of someone else. “Fuck.” He curses, his cock twitching.

“Is this- is this how it feels?” You pant softly, your hips rocking up to his hand. Chasing the feeling that he pulls out of you. “All the time?” You are surprised that there aren’t more babies in the world if sex feels like this.

“Sometimes.” Pero chuckles softly, adding another finger, “sometimes it feels good, sometimes it’s just a physical release to relax. Quiero - I want you to feel like this all the time we are intimate, mi esposa.” He murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass to encourage you to rock down onto his fingers.

You feel so good, rocking on your feet as you wantonly move in your husbands arms. Kissing along his neck every time you grind down onto his finger, you feel that sensation start to build inside of you again. “Pero.” You whimper, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his fingers. “Pero- I- again- it’s- it’s-“ you cut yourself off with a small cry, another wave of pleasure and heat flooding you and making you forget about everything but the bliss of his fingers.

The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock leaking. To hear you so unabashedly enjoying yourself has him groaning and he works you through it. His fingers soaked and he knows you are ready to take him. “Mierda.” He hisses, pressing his cock against your hip as you come back down to earth. Soon enough, he’s withdrawing his fingers and he wipes his fingers on his nightgown. “Come on, esposa. Lay down. I want to fuck my wife.” He says with a slight smile, knowing it’s taken way too long to get to this point in your marriage.

You hum, nearly floating on a cloud as you walk over to your bed and pull the covers back. Climbing into the bed and knowing that you will come out of it properly wed is thrilling and you lay back amongst the pillows. Watching as he walks towards you. “Are you going to remove your shirt, husband?” You ask softly, wanting to see your husband as fully as he has seen you. There is no love between you, but there will be passion and you wish to know what he looks like.

Pero bites his lip, wondering if he will be good enough. If you will like the scars on his body from his battles won in the war. He exhales shakily and nods, reaching for the hem of his shirt so he can lift it over his head, fully exposing his body to you as you lay in your bed.

He is strong, you can tell that from the corded muscles that spoke of your husband doing much more than just being an idle lord. Bunching and rippling as he stands still for you inspection, you don’t hesitate to let your eyes roam over him. Widening slightly when you get your first look at his cock without some fabric blocking your view. “You are…handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “It- you make my core throb.”

Your words surprise Pero and he smirks, slightly cocky that you are satisfied with his appearance. He shifts closer to the bed until he is kneeling on it, his fingers caressing your ankle bone and up your leg. “That’s good. That’s lust, esposa. Do you desire me? Do you want me inside or you?” He asks, kneeling between your thighs and he doesn’t touch you so you can make the final assessment before he consummates the marriage.

Even though you are innocent, you are aware of what should happen. Feeling bold by the lust that is in his own eyes, you spread your thighs to reveal the thatch of curls covering your core. “Please, Pero.”

“Mierda.” Tovar mutters and caresses your thighs. When he looks into your eyes and sees your certainty, he nods and reaches down to grip his cock. Shuffling closer, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, pushes inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants, trying to control himself but you’re so wet and tight. He exhales shakily and pushes deeper, wanting to make sure you are as comfortable as possible despite him taking your innocence.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a pinch but it is not the painful experience that you had been led to believe that it was. Moaning softly as you feel him deep inside, seemingly deeper than his fingers had been, and throbbing. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again and you slowly open your eyes as you breathe out. “Pero.”

The urge to bury himself inside of you is strong but he remains in control, slowly rocking his hips so he can work his cock deeper inside of you until he is settled inside of you. He knows you are a keen horse rider so your innocence was likely taken during a saddling but he doesn’t care. He’s damaged goods himself and he knows some men would want you to be intact but this is kinder to you and to him. He closes his eyes once he’s fully inside of you, his fists clenched as he tries to not spill his seed before you can experience the pleasure of sex.

“I- I feel so full.” You whimper, your fingers dragging across his skin and your legs shuffling slightly. He’s so still on top of you and it makes you want to move, need to move. To chase the same sensation you felt when you had his fingers inside you. You gasp when you think of what you heard your maids back home giggling about. Riding a man as if he were a horse and you clench down around him thinking about riding Pero like that, his cock deep inside you.

Pero hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he inhales deeply. He reaches down to grab your thigh and he lifts it higher so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants and starts to move slowly.

You moan again, eyes widening at how well you feel him. “I- oh Pero.” You whimper, trying to roll you hips down but he has you nailed to the bed with his cock. “I-f-fuck.” You stammer out, the curse unfamiliar on your tongue but it feels like it is necessary for what you are feeling right now as your husband moves inside you.

Your curse has his cock twitching inside of you and he groans when your walls squeeze him. “Fuck, esposa. You feel - it’s - perfect.” He allows you a minute access to his thoughts and that seems to make you wild. Clamping down on his cock and arching your back to egg him on. He starts to move faster, lowering his hips and groaning your name as he tries to make this good for you.

You enjoy the rough sound of his voice. Moaning again as he starts up a rhythm to his movements and making you nearly gasp every time he pushes deep. You slide your hands down your back, playing over scars and working muscles rippling under the skin. You feel like he approved of your curse so you do it again, followed by his name. “It’s so intense.”

He likes to hear that because it’s a lot to him too. To be intimate with his wife. He never imagined he’d remarry but he starts to think it’s possible to have a marriage with you, to be able to survive without Maria…perhaps even be happy. He enjoys your touch and slides his hand up to cup your breast, squeezing and he shifts so he can lean down to take your nipple into his mouth.

You hadn’t expected his mouth. Wrongly assuming that kissing being too intimate meant any part of your body and not just your lips. “Pero!” You cry out loud enough that the servants might hear and arch your back up, wanting more of the pleasure of his mouth at your breast. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, shivering.

He loves hearing you curse, his cock twitching inside of you, and he switches over to your other breast. He bites down on your flesh, nipping and sucking, and he moves inside of you, grinding deep. “You like this, hermosa?” He asks, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.

“Yes, yes Pero.” You moan, closing your eyes and lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. You know that you are making him feel good. At least you hope you are. Feeling his thrusts start to build faster, his breathing catching and starting to pant against your skin. “So much.”

He grunts when he feels you starting to clench around him and he drops his hips so he can press his pelvis where you need him more. “Cum for me.” He pleads with a groan, needing to feel you cum before he finds his own high. “Por favor, esposa. Cum.” He demands and drags his tongue along your sternum.

You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. “Ohhhh Pero!” You cry out, body starting to shake underneath his with the next thrust of his hips as you start to fall apart. Pleasure whipping through every inch of your body as you moan.

He clenches his eyes shut when you clamp down on his cock and he bites down on your shoulder as he barely manages to pull out of you, his hot seed spilling on your thigh. “Fuck.” He pants, cock twitching against your hip as he rides his orgasm.

Your eyes open and you frown in confusion as you feel the wetness of his seed on your skin. “I- is something wrong?” You pant quietly, wondering if you’ve somehow disappointed him.

He frowns, pulling back to look down at you. “What are you talking about? I- nothing is wrong.” He’s trying to catch his breath and he shifts to lay down beside you. “It was good.” He assures you, “did you not enjoy it?”

“You-“ You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You spilled your seed on my thighs.” You murmur quietly, wondering if there was something wrong with you that caused him to do that. He was supposed to finish inside you. That’s what everyone said.

Pero closes his eyes, trying to conceal the pain. “I know - I know we aren’t - tonight was our first night but - but I can’t risk you being with child so soon.” He admits, reminded once again of Maria dying during childbirth.

“I-I am so sorry.” You close your own eyes, mortified that you had brought up something so personal to him. “I understand. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.” You know you have ruined things and you swallow down a sigh.

Pero shakes his head, shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, esposa. I- I’ll leave you to clean up. I have work to attend to.” He declares as he stands and reaches for his nightgown. “I shall see you tomorrow.” He says, turning to look at you after he edged towards the door.

You nod. “Yes.” You know he wants to leave and you sit up, his seed cooling on your skin. “I will clean up and then choose another book from the library before I go to bed. Goodnight, husband.”

“Buenas noches, esposa.” Pero says and swiftly leaves your room. Tonight, he gave in to his desires and left you upset after he pulled out of you. He knows you will urge him to have a child soon and he isn’t sure he is ready for that conversation but for now, he will retire to his quarters to read over the accounts before he falls asleep. He’s not entirely sure how long he can continue keeping you at arms length but he has to try. He cannot lose another wife.

****

The next morning, you are surprised to find your husband in the dining room when you come in. “Buenas días, husband.” You see that he is reading some papers, so you move to your normal seat with the cup of tea you had retrieved yourself when you had gone in to see Lola. “I hope your night was restful.” You had decided that you understood where Pero stood on getting you with child and you wished to speak with him about it. “Have you ever used a- a condom before?” You ask him. “My maid back home said they can be purchased from the chemist. Perhaps that would be a good solution?”

Pero raises his eyebrows over his newspaper, watching you for a moment until he chuckles. “Is that what you wish for us to use? I am happy to let you manage our…situation if you wish.” He trusts you and he isn’t sure when that changed.

“You said that you did not wish for me to be - to have a child.” You don’t add the ‘yet’ portion because you feel like he would rather that be ‘at all’. “So a co-condom would help.” You shrug, slightly self conscious now. “We don’t have to use one.”

Pero nods, understanding what you are saying and he appreciates your planning. “Let us have Carmen fetch us some things and then we have the choice.” He says, knowing that it will be hard to keep away from you now that he knows how you feel. The passion inside of you scares him and he knows if he allows it, he will lose himself in you. He can’t put his heart back on the line and the children need a mother. With a nod, he goes back to eating his pan con tomate and knows that you will take care of the issue of birth control.

Carmen brings you a plate of food and you thank her, eating in silence with your husband. You had not expected grand conversations with him, at least at the beginning, so you do not try to disturb him with idle chit chat and when you stand after finishing, you give him a small smile. “Have a good day, husband.” You wish him softly.

Pero watches you go and realizes that maybe he doesn’t just want this to be a marriage of mutual benefit. He finishes his breakfast in peace and decides to spend the rest of the day near the children.

****

“Where is my wife?” Pero asks Carmen, who frowns, “she’s in her chambers, Don Tovar.” She answers and Pero frowns, making his way to your rooms and he is even more confused when he enters and calls your name, only to find you aren’t there.

Biting your lip, you urge the horse faster. Knowing that you are breaking your word to your husband, but it cannot be helped. Luis is feverish, and Carmen and Lola had been nowhere to be found when you had gone searching for them. Frantic about your husband’s son, you know it would destroy Pero to lose the last bit of his wife that she had given him. So you broke your promise. Currently racing to town to fetch the doctor, you pray that the instructions you had given his sister were working and that you will be able to bring the doctor back from town in time.

When Pero finds the children, he’s frantic when he’s told that Luis has a fever and you have left to go to town to find the doctor. He can hardly contain his anxiety, his hands shaking, and he growls at Carlos, “I’m going to fucking find her!” He feels like he’s losing control, his heart pounding and his breathing is heavy. His legs feel like lead and his brain focuses on you and his children. Is Luis dying? Is this his punishment for his time in the war? Is he going to lose you? He pants and collapses to his knees, Carlos reaching out to steady him as his vision goes cloudy. “I- I - can’t save them.”

It is to your detriment that you haven’t been to town, wasting precious time to find the doctor and demanding that he come with you back to the Tovar estate. Shaking with fear and praying that you make it back in time to help your little boy. You didn’t give birth to him, but you have grown close to the children and you have come to love their personalities now they are being taught and challenged, time being spent with them. The mischief of your first meeting was long gone. Rushing to your horse and as soon as the doctor is mounted on his own, racing for home.

Pero manages to stand up, shoving Carlos away as he demands to know where you’ve gone. “I - Alejandra said she’s gone to the town.” Pero doesn’t waste a second, rushing to the stables and swinging his leg over his stallion, no saddle, he pushes the horse to the limit as he gallops towards town. Images of you injured or dead flash in his mind and he realizes how you have wiggled his way into his mind and heart. Your kindness and the feel of you beneath him have his heart twisting at the thought of anything happening to you.

Frowning, you spot a rider in the distance on the road. Unsure of who it might be, you glance back at the doctor who is on your horses heels and then forward again. Recognizing the haste in the way you see the horse being pushed, dread knots in your stomach, realizing that it must be your husband. Lifting a hand, even though he is too far away to shout to, you wonder if he will beat you for disobeying him.

Pero sees you as he gallops and he nearly falls off of the horse when he pulls on its hair to slow it down. “You - what the fuck do you think you are you doing?” Pero yells as you approach him and the doctor’s horse skids as he comes to a stop.

“Luis! Luis has a fever!” You cry out, panting for breath as your horse stomps and shakes underneath you, “I- I had to get the doctor.” Your own mother had died from a fever sickness and the idea of losing his little boy on your watch makes you want to be sick. “I- we must hurry Pero! He cannot die, not like mama!”

Pero nods, knowing that now is not the time to have this argument. “You’re unharmed?” Pero asks and you nod frantically. His heart is pounding but you are safe and unharmed from what he can tell so he turns his horse around and the three of you gallop back to his estate, back in front of the sick little boy in record time. Pero kneels beside Luis, watching the doctor and he swallows harshly, “por favor. Just - do something.”

You twist your hands, knowing that Pero is worried and you start to pray yourself. Carmen has Alejandra in the other room and you can hear her comforting the older child. The doctor works and you worry, pacing the floors continuously, eager to bring the doctor anything he might need and bringing in the basin of cold water that Lola brings up.

Pero holds his son’s hand while the doctor assesses him and murmurs prayers as you kneel beside him. He reaches for your other hand, squeezing it as he prays and the doctor starts to drain the boy’s blood in hopes of bringing down the fever. “Bleeding should help the fever break. If not, I have some bark I think will help.”

Pero swallows, his throat is dry, “whatever you can do. I- I can’t lose him.”

You try to be there for him. Sitting strong and praying as the doctor continues to bleed the boy until he claims that it is enough. Wiping him down and checking his forehead again with a small frown before he moves over to the teapot he had requested with boiling water. You squeeze Pero’s hand and glance at your husband’s worried face.

Pero doesn’t know how long he lays there, his heart and mind weary as he watches his son. The doctor gave him the tea and left, stating it “is in God’s hands now.” He’s not eaten, he hasn’t slept. He just sits there and watches the little boy breathe. He doesn’t know where you are, he sometimes wonders but he’s too concerned about his son.

You watch. Waiting for anything and everything that Pero or Luis might need. Often leaving the room to comfort Alejandra and to let her know how her brother is doing. You don’t want her to feel forgotten and eventually you allow her to come into the room after promising to be quiet. The two of you sit in a chair behind Pero and eventually curl up together and fall asleep together from exhaustion and worry.

Pero isn’t sure when he fell asleep, perhaps the exhaustion got to him and he simply rested his head on the cool sheets, his eyes closing without his knowledge. “Papa.” He doesn’t hear the weak murmur at first. “Papa.” A small hand touches his hair and Pero’s nose wrinkles. “Papa.” The voice is stronger and wakes Pero up, his head shooting up to see Luis lucid and awake.

“Luis” He gasps, reaching for him to check his views. His eyes are clear, his forehead cool but not cold. He’s okay. “Mi amor.” Pero chokes, wrapping his arms around the little boy to pull him into his arms.

You wake up, rousing Alejandra in your arms and nearly sob with relief that Luis is awake and alert. “Mama, is Luis okay?” Alejandra demands, her own worry for her brother causing her to not think about what she calls you. Your eyes widen and you try not to tear up at the honorary name, nodding and brushing her tangled hair back from her face and holding her close despite being on your lap. “It looks like he is.” You hum. “Go hug him and your papa.”

Alejandra nods, rushing over to her papa and her brother and she wraps her arms around them. Pero shifts, gathering the children into his arms and he sniffs, trying to ignore the tears that sting in his eyes as he embraces them. “Te amo, mijos.” He murmurs and looks over at you, “come here, esposa.” He gestures for you to come over to them.

Standing up, you are happy to see such a touching moment between the small family. You know you are a part of it now, but they are reminders of his wife and very dear to him. Walking over, you ruffle Luis’ hair and smile. “You gave us all a fright, Luis.” You hum, sliding your hand to your husband’s shoulder.

Pero reaches up to grip your hand in his, his terror at losing you or one of his children now subsided and in its place is joy that he doesn’t have to suffer another loss. The four of you embrace until Carmen comes in to attend to Luis, wanting him to eat something and drink. Pero tells Alejandra to stay with her brother and she nods. “I need to speak with you.” Pero says to you, his voice deepening as he reaches for your hand.

You swallow, aware that he will now punish you. You had disobeyed him and you know from everyone that Pero is a stern man. You follow him quietly, wondering why he is still holding your hand as he guides you out of the nursery towards your bedroom.

When Pero opens the door to your chambers, he pushes you inside. “What were you thinking?” He hisses, dropping your hand as he glares at you, “I told you to never go into town.”

“I was thinking that Luis was in danger.” You won’t apologize for your actions, but you understand his anger. “He needed the doctor and I could not find anyone.” You stand straight and stiffen your spine. “If you punish me, that is you right. But I would do it again. My mother died of fever and I did not want you to lose your last gift from your wife.”

Your words take Pero back and his jaw drops, staring at you as he absorbs your words. Your kindness knows no bounds it seems and that’s the moment it clicks for Pero. Unable to stop himself, he surges forward and you think he’s about to hit you but he doesn’t, instead, his lips press against yours.

You had flinched, you could admit that yourself but then you are gasping against Pero’s mouth, shocked that he is kissing you. He had told you that he wouldn’t do that again; it was too intimate for him. Yet his lips are warm and soft against yours and you cannot help but melt into him.

His hands grip your waist and his mouth moves against yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip as he pulls you up against him. You moan into his mouth and his hands reach down to tug your skirts up, his hands soon pulling his cock free from his breeches, hard and aching. He needs you and he hopes you want him too.

You had expected a beating, not for your husband to fuck you. But you aren’t going to push him away. Your fingers tug on your petticoats and you quickly push them down. “Husband.” You gasp out when he pulls his lips away. “Please.” You whimper, enjoying his apparent need for you.

His hand grabs your thigh, lifting it over your hip so he can position his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside of you with a groan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh as he pushes deeper.

“Oh god.” You would probably collapse if he didn’t have his hand on your waist and use his strength to keep you upright. Wanting to kiss him again, you wonder if that was a fluke and he wouldn’t kiss you but you turn your head to kiss along his jaw while he throbs inside you.

He turns his head to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours as he starts to move inside of you. You’re so wet and tight and alive. You’re alive. He focuses on you and your touch, his mouth moving against yours as he presses you against the wall.

You had never considered that your husband could fuck you against a wall, and yet, it’s thrilling. You moan into his mouth and cling to him, not caring that his hips push you back against the wainscoting every time he thrusts into you. Your own tongue touches against his and your entire body shivers with pleasure.

“Fuck. Mi esposa. I- Don’t want to lose you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and he kisses down your throat as he lifts your hip a little higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck. Please. I need - I need you.”

“Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting him do whatever he needs to you. You are starting to fall for him, especially with how he worried for Luis.

It’s hard to imagine his days without you now. Cold nights alone have turned into passionate escapades scattered throughout the day, touches leading through the night. He has tried to stay away but you’ve drawn him in. He continues to work his cock in and out of you, groaning as he presses his lips to yours again.

Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him completely. Clinging to him as he fucks you so deeply you know they you will be feeling him for days after. Even though he’s not wearing a condom, you expect him to pull out and spill his seed outside your body. The condom had been great and you loved the feeling of him pulsing inside you.

Pero kisses along your jaw, breathing you in and he needs you to clamp down on his cock. He grabs your other thigh, lifting you up completely as the adrenaline surges through him and he grunts as he lifts you up and down his cock, still pressing you against the wall.

Gasping, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to wrap your legs around him, your skirts bunched between you. “Fuck, Pero, I- I love you.” You moan quietly; needing to at least whisper it even though he doesn’t feel the same way. “So close.”

He hears it but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his lips to yours and when you whine into his mouth, he groans against your lips when you clamp down on his cock. He should pull out but he doesn’t, too focused on you and how you feel and how he could’ve lost you. He grunts and keeps thrusting you through your orgasm until finally, he’s pushing deep and filling you full of his hot seed, painting your walls.

Your eyes widen and you are too busy worrying about the feeling of his hot seed inside you. Knowing he will regret it you are savoring this one moment. “Pero- Pero you have to let me- I have to bathe.” You whimper.

He doesn’t release you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pants again at your chin, enjoying the feel of you surrounding him. “Don’t.” He murmurs, not wanting to let you go just yet. He can’t lose another person from his life that he cares for.

You frown but you don’t push him away, deciding that he knows what he is doing. “Okay, husband.” You pant softly, feeling him throb inside of you and start to soften. “Is-is this my punishment?” You ask teasingly.

Pero chuckles softly, pulling out of you and lowering you down to the floor. Your skirts settle down and he reaches down to tuck his cock back into his breeches. “No punishment.” He assures you and reaches for your hands, “please…just do not go into town unless you are escorted.” He compromises, knowing that it will be hard to overcome his anxiety surrounding town but he cannot keep you prisoner.

You bite your lip, aware that your husband is compromising. “Yes.” You murmur softly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek. You don’t want to push him for more than he will give you so you won’t kiss him on the lips unless he kisses you first. “Thank you, Pero.” You hum, smiling as you pull back to look into his dark eyes. “I will have an escort.”

Pero nods, letting go of your hands and he is pleased that he could compromise. The idea of you going into town terrifies him, he doesn’t want to lose you. The children clearly love you and he - he has affection for you.

****

Pero looks up at you as you enter the dining room. He stands up, walking over to pull your chair out for you, taking over the job from the footman. “You look beautiful, esposa.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek as you stand before him and he helps you sit down.

“Thank you.” You give Pero a smile, but you’re slightly nervous. Your monthly time has been missed for several months now and you woke up feeling nauseous and your breasts being sore. You are with child and while your husband has become warmer to you, you don’t know how he will react. It’s true that there have been several times since the day Luis was sick that he hasn’t worn the condom, he had also still worn it and never said anything about having children with you or your confession of your feelings. You’ve never repeated those words again. “I’ll just have some weak tea and toast.” You tell the footman before he disappears to let Lola know you are ready for breakfast.

Pero frowns, usually you order more at breakfast and he wonders if you are unwell. “Are you ill, esposa?” He asks and wonders if you are okay. He watches you as you eye the cup of tea with a grimace and he calls Carlos over to order the doctor to come to the house.

“I think that I might have some kind of stomach malady.” You admit with a small groan, covering your nose from the aroma of the tea. “It should pass.” You have an idea of what is wrong but you don’t wish to alarm Pero.

Pero is concerned but knows the doctor will help you and Carlos will ensure his swift arrival. Your breakfast is hardly touched and he will inform Carmen to let Lola know to prepare a light but generous lunch for you. He is concerned, knowing how Luis was and he’s terrified that you are going to end up with the same fate.

After breakfast, you still feel ill, laying down and resting even though you know you should be watching the children. You feel dizzy and nauseous and you wonder if all women feel this way when they are pregnant. You are sure that is what is going on, emptying your stomach of the tea and the few bites of toast you had managed into the chamber pot under your bed.

Pero greets the doctor, escorting him to your chambers. This is the same doctor who was present when Maria died and the midwife called for him after there were complications. The two men exchange a look before Carmen announces the doctor’s arrival. “I will leave you to it.” Pero says after everyone enters.

“Oh, I didn’t know Pero was calling a doctor.” You sit up, embarrassed and hoping that the nausea has passed. “I am afraid that I am not quite feeling myself.” You admit when he tuts and brings his bag over. “I think- I think I might be ….” You lower your voice. “Expecting.”

The doctor nods, “very well. Let us check and we can confirm, Señora Tovar.” He says softly and under Carmen’s watchful eye, he performs his tests. Feeling your stomach, he smiles. “Congratulations, Señora. You are with child.” He offers you a soft smile and Carmen grins, “congratulations.”

“Thank you.” It’s a relief to know that is what is wrong, but you wonder how Pero will take the news that you are expecting his child. “What can be done about the nausea?” You ask him softly. “My mother died young and I have never been around someone expecting.”

“I have a tea I can provide your cook with to assist with the sickness.” The doctor informs you and is soon bidding you goodbye. When the doctor exits your quarters, Pero looks up, eyes questions and the doctor pats his shoulder. “I believe your wife had good news.” Pero swallows, knowing what that means and he thanks the doctor before Carlos escorts him out.

Exhaling shakily, he walks over to your room and knocks, entering your chambers to find you sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside you and reaches for your hand, “esposa.”

“I’m sorry, Pero.” You start quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I know that you wished to wait, or to never have children with me.” You are worried that he will be upset, that it will ruin the closeness you have felt with him lately. “I do not know what happened. I’m - I am going to have your child.”

He squeezes your hand, “don’t know what happened? I think I do.” He chuckles softly. “And…and I’m not angry about it. I knew what could happen and you are an incredible mother to Luis and Alejandra. I think you’ll be amazing.” He assures you, “and I - I want to have a child that is half you and half me.”

You let out the breath you had been holding and smile. Relieved that he is not upset and you are able to be excited for the first time. “I think it will be wonderful.” You admit, although you frown after a moment. “I promise I will not go into town, even with an escort, when my time draws near.” You don’t want him to worry about another wife, even if he doesn’t love you, he would worry.

Pero nods his gratefulness, knowing you now understand his anxiety and reaction. Especially after you ran off to fetch the doctor. He knows he is going to be even more protective of you. “It’s good news, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead, brushing his nose against yours until his lips brush your lips.

You’ve found there is comfort in his kisses. A certain sense of home that you’ve not found anywhere else as the nights in his bed progressed. It was often you ended up sleeping together after your pleasure but you had never voiced that sentiment of love again. You desperately want to say it again, but you are afraid to, afraid of being reminded that you are not his late wife and he had warned you that he wouldn’t love you.

****

As your pregnancy progresses, Pero gets more and more anxious. He’s nervous of the birth, reminded once again of Maria dying after giving birth to Luis. He swallows harshly as he leans against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. You’re going to give birth soon according to the midwife and each day makes his anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.

Every day that passes, you can see your husband slowly start to unravel. He is sleeping less and worrying about you. Not even allowing you on the stairs without someone. Making you ring a bell to have someone come help you. Most often he works from your chambers, moving his work to your writing desk. You sigh as you slide your hand over your stomach, panting slightly. The pains had started last night but you had kept it from him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep and he desperately needed the rest.

Pero sees Carmen rushing through the halls and she slows down when she sees him. “What’s happening?” He asks, frowning, and the young woman bites her lip. “Tell me.” He demands and Carmen knows she can’t deny him, “she’s having pains. The birth is happening. I must fetch the midwife.” Carmen rushes out and Pero’s eyes widen.

“Fetch the doctor too. I will take no chances.” He says and Carmen nods, rushing off. Pero drops everything he is doing and rushes to your chambers, “esposa. Is it true? You’re having pains?” He asks, eying you in the chair in the corner.

You would deny it, to spare him a bit more time but another pain makes you clutch your stomach. Bending over slightly as you start to moan quietly. It lasts for a long time and by that time you relax, you are panting. “I am.”

Pero rushes over to you. Guiding you over to the bed, “come, you must lay down.” He shakes his head, trying to take your shoes off. “Why didn’t you send for me?” He asks, caressing your ankle as you settle against the pillows.

“You have not been sleeping.” You remind him quietly. “I know you need rest and if I told you, there was not any rest in your future.”

Your whimpers make his heart clench and he shakes his head. “Mi - esposa. Come, do not worry about me. I will worry until the babe is in your arms and you are well and healthy.” His voice wavers for a moment and he wonders if you notice as he wipes your forehead of the beads of sweat.

“It will be well.” The midwife has assured you that you are carrying well for a first time birth and believes that it will be a simple thing. Reaching for his hand, you smile at him softly. “I have already asked that you be allowed in the birthing room if you need.”

Pero is surprised and pleased, kissing your damp forehead. “I won’t leave you.” He promises and brushes his lips against yours. “I’ll be here. Every single second.” He vows as Carmen comes back in with water and a flannel.

You get changed into a clean nightgown, Carmen helping you although you don’t mind your husband being there. He has seen you naked more than your own nanny when you were a child. Getting settled back down into the bed, you grip Pero’s hand and cry out when the next pain washes over you.

Pero lets you squeeze his hand as you try to ride the pain. You whimper and Pero frowns, “where is the midwife?” He asks, starting to get impatient. “And the doctor? I called for him as well.” He growls, looking over at Carmen.

“They are coming, Don Tovar.” She assures him, knowing that he is worried about his wife. Everyone has seen how much the Don has come to care about his wife and they are all happy for him. You are kind and loving and it will be good for him to love again. “The doctor is impressed with your wife and has already said he will come whenever summoned.”

“He needs to be here. I will allow no one to take a singular risk. I won’t have my wife’s health and the baby’s health put in danger.” He hisses and squeezes your hand when you groan at the pain. “Are you - you need anything?” Pero asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need.

“Water.” You beg quietly. Labor is harder work that you realized and you feel parched from it.

Pero nods and squeezes your hand again. “Whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your hand and rushing over to the tray Carmen had brought you earlier.

Pero returns with the water, letting you sip it and he wipes your forehead with the wet rag Carmen hands him. It seems like the sun is setting when you are finally ready to push. The midwife checking you and announcing it’s time. Pero is terrified, this was the time Maria lost too much blood. He remembers the sheets being soaked with it as Luis cried. He grips your hand, sweat beading on his brow as his heart starts to pound

Clenching your teeth together, you try to make sure that you don’t scream during the next pain. It makes Pero uneasy every time, he pales when you scream and grip his hand as tight as you can. You know that he is scared and even though you are in pain, you’re worried about him.

Pero feels unwell but tries to stay strong, each clenched scream bringing you closer to having his next child and he is terrified. Terrified of losing you. During your marriage, he has grown close to you. Spending many nights in your bed, even if he hadn’t touched you. He can’t imagine his life without you now. “Come on hermosa, you can do it. Push.” He urges you on, wanting you to concentrate.

Nodding, you sit up slightly and start to push. Bearing down with all your might, you see the midwife between your thighs as you start to feel more pressure.

Pero watches you push, his eyes darting between you and the midwife and he’s worried, he’s so scared that he’s gonna lose you. His hand grips yours as he watches you push and he’s silently praying.

“I can’t- it is too much.” You gasp out, falling back against the sheets as you pant.

The midwife clicks her tongue and looks up at you. “One more push, señora, and the bebita will be in your arms.” She promises you. “Next time the pain comes you push as hard as you can.”

“You can do it, hermosa. You can do it.” He eggs you on, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you struggle. “Come on, mi amor. Come on.” He says, wiping your forehead.

You close your eyes, tears leaking out of the corners as you barely hear the words that you have wished for far longer than you should have. Holding his hand, you nod, bearing down with all your strength and pushing your baby into the world. Feeling them slip from your womb with a rush of relief.

Pero watches the midwife cradle the crying babe, her smile wide and Pero starts to cry, relieved and so happy at seeing his child born. “Felicidades, Don Tovar, it’s a boy.” She announces and Pero leans in to kiss your head.

“A boy, amor,”

“A boy.” You sob, exhausted and relieved and more than a little emotional about hearing ‘amor’ again. Almost terrified that he is thinking of his late wife and reliving that horrible night with a happier ending through you. “We have another son.” You pant, reaching for the baby when the midwife hands him to you.

Pero looks down at the screaming babe in your arms. His eyes sting with tears and he looks at you in awe. “A boy. Another boy.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Amor.”

“He’s beautiful.” You murmur quietly, brushing your hand over his wet forehead. “Perfect.” His ten little fingers are curled into fists and he has ten perfect little toes. “Isn’t he?” You ask, looking up at your husband after you manage to tear your eyes away from your new baby.

Pero leans in to rest his forehead against yours, loving how you are cradling the baby and he knows Luis and Alejandra are excited for his arrival. “He’s perfect. So is his mother.” He murmurs, caressing the baby’s head.

You hum, not sure how to take that and look back down at the baby. He’s turning his face towards you and crying, searching for your breast. “Put him on the breast.” The midwife tells you. “Your milk will come.” You nod, opening your nightgown and guiding him towards your breast and gasping when he latches into your nipple.

Pero watches in awe, the midwife working on helping you with the afterbirth and the baby mouths at your nipple. Pero kisses your forehead again, he’s so perfect. You’re perfect. Hermosa, I- I love you.” Pero chokes, never imagining that he’d fall in love again but he couldn’t help it, you’re too beautiful and kind. The children love you and you’ve made his life so much better.

Your eyes widen and you look up at Pero in shock. “You- you love me?” You ask in astonishment, sure that would never happen for you. He nods and you start to cry. “I love you too Pero, I love you and our three children.”

Pero leans in to kiss you, “I love you. So much. I- I didn’t think - after Maria - you’ve brought this home, my children…me…back to life.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead. “Mi esposa, hermosa, amor. You are everything to me. I owe you the world.” He murmurs, looking down at the little boy.

Your smile is watery, but overjoyed. You had come to Spain to marry a man you didn’t know and was told that he could never love you. Now you have a beautiful son, two other children that adore you and your them, and a loving husband. Your father had chosen right. You were a family.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar the great wall #regency pero tovar x reader #regency pero tovar #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar fanfiction #tovar imagine

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svuguru · 22 days

Note

stepdad toji headcannons?

Tags: stepcest! Antis and minors DNI! I am not responsible for the content you do or do not consume! I got a bit carried away and idek if you can call these head cannons??? I’ve never written smth like thissss 😭

when your mother first introduced him to you, he was obsessed.

When he moved into your mother’s house, you were in university, but the moment winter break came, he didn’t waste a moment that could be spent staring at his sweet daughter!!

You were soooo addictive and sweet, like… despite him just being a man who entered your life one day, you were so sweet to him :(

Spoils you rottennnn (ignore how I’m canon he’s poor <3)

Well most of the time he does; Toji’s all for discipline and making sure his pretty girl stays in line and never disrespects anyone!

Still, he loves when you ask him for money to get a manicure… your nails just look so pretty :( they really compliment that pretty face of yours too

He’s kind of a creep too, but can you blame him? You’re so tempting!

Toji believes you purposely tease him, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and pink panties around the house because you’re so comfortable around your caring stepdad, he’d never be a weirdo, right?

When he sees your panties in the laundry, he has to take a moment and collect himself. He doesn’t steal them though, he just stares at them… no, really!

However one night in the shower he couldn’t stop himself from reaching down for his hard cock, aching to be touched by your smaller hands… and—well, you know..

it was that one evening when he overheard you on the phone with your college girl friend, gossiping and whatnot and it was all okay until he heard the topic of boys come about…

You talked about all the ones you found cute and your stepdad just couldn’t let you get away with that!

The moment you hung up your phone, Toji barged into your room, looking upset and unamused with you.

I’m pretty sure you know what happens next; your stepdad doesn’t even undress you, he just lifts up your skirt, rids you of your panties, and shoved your face into your mattress.

“Daddy!” You scream in shock, looking back at Toji from over your shoulder with visible confusion and surprise on your face.

“Shhh-shhhut up,” Toji groans as he unbuckles his pants and slides them down to his ankles, along with his briefs, before taking his cock in his hand and stroking it.

“What’s wrong, daddy? Did I do something? Wahh, ‘m sorry!” You cry, beginning to feel frustrated with yourself for making your stepdad upset even though you don’t know what you did.

“‘S nothing, sweetheart.” He grunts, but you know he has more to say. “My sweet girl just has a lot of nerve to talk about boys—“ and Toji lands a harsh smack on your soft ass, completely taking you by surprise. “When your step daddy’s right here? Dumb girl.”

You feel your cunt soak just from Toji’s words and actions.

“‘M sorry, didn’t mean to make you mad, daddy…” you mumble and bury your head back into your supple pillow, waiting for Toji to stuff you full of his thick cock.

“I know you didn’t,” he murmurs, “but you still did, no? Silly girl should know by now that I’m in charge.” Toji’s deep, firm voice has you clenching around nothing, your pussy throbbing and waiting for him to shove in his dick.

“I know that, daddy, I just—“ you’re cut off by your own gasp when Toji, with no warning, pushes in his cock. Immediately, you reach for your pink bedsheets, moaning into your pillows.

“Quiet.” Toji says in a stern voice. “I know you didn’t mean to make me mad, just keep quiet. If your mother finds out, you know I’ll get in big trouble, right? She’ll never let me near you again. You don’t want that, do you, baby?” And of course, you shake your head. You never want to lose your kind stepdad! “Good. Now keep quiet, just gotta fuck this lesson into you.”

#jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji smut #Toji fushiguro x reader #Toji Fushiguro x reader smut #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader smut #Toji fushiguro smut #fushiguro Toji smut

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joelismiller · 9 months

Text

misunderstanding

joel miller x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.0k

Summary: you liked joel and you really thought he liked you back.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap (joel is in his fifties and reader is in her late twenties), angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), jealousy, protective!joel, violence if you squint, no use of y/n

A/N: hi everyone my name is ariel and this is my first post ! I have never written for joel before and i have never written smut so please go easy on me and enjoy ! <3 (oh also i completely made up the currency idk how that works😭)

It hurts, you think.

Having an attachment to a man who has seemed to lose the ability to comprehend on an emotional level how to form one.

An exception of course made for one goofy teenager named Ellie Williams, which you can’t blame him for—she is an easy kid to love.

You however still can’t help but feel a little envious of the fourteen-year-old even if it is a silly kind of jealousy. You just wish you could be close to him—know him like no one else does or has.

It started 6 months ago: you had been living in Jackson for a whole year after braving the world overtaken by Cordyceps alone.

Tommy and a group of other people on patrol found you near the edge of town looking right about to just give up and keel over and allow fate to take over and decide if you should live or die from that point.

After making sure you were not infected, Tommy scooped you up and managed to get you back to town where Maria agreed to help nurse you back to health and eventually make you an official resident of Jackson.

You were given a house close to Tommy and Maria’s and they gave you a job at the local clothing shop of sorts; really just a place to trade or purchase clothing, bootlaces, etc. You began to not just live, but enjoy living—a fate you never thought you would be able to see for yourself after the events of the last twenty years.

It was more or less a life of routine and monotony, but it was more of a life you had before which is what made it special.

Then Joel Miller came in and ruined all of that.

Six months ago he rode into town with his little brunette companion for a second time after briefly visiting a while before. He walked up to Tommy and gave him a firm hug while confirming your hope that he indeed would be making himself a permanent member of the Jackson community.

His house with Ellie was only a few blocks away which allowed for you to wake up a little early to see him leave on his way to patrol.

Now the interaction that started your infatuation with the grumpy old man was nothing too special; at least probably to the man himself. However, to you, it made a very old and foreign feeling form in your gut.

Butterflies erupted just at the sight of Joel Miller’s beautiful brown eyes that, depending on the light, either shined a light honey-brown, or dark and rich, like the coffee beans you used to brew your coffee that morning.

His hair reflected his age—a fluffy mess of brown with graying streaks and a patchy beard to match.

And his broad shoulders and strong looking arms made it so you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up by him—consumed by him.

He looked awkward, you think, as he stood inside your shop looking around wordlessly. You decided to step out from behind the counter where you were going over some previous numbers for inventory to help the handsome man get what he came for.

“Hi there, can I help you look for anything specific?” you asked as you approached him slowly from across the room.

“Hi, um, I was just lookin' for a thicker coat than the one I already have—‘just got my first pay from patrolling.” He muttered, continuing to search the many tables and walls littered with all sorts of clothing items.

“Oh okay, for sure! If you just follow me they’re right over here.”

You began to lead him to a rack near the register which had a small assortment of heavy winter jackets. You were constantly selling out of them since Jackson was always cold no matter the season which is why there wasn’t a lot to choose from.

He took a look at the jackets and gave you a nod, “Thank you, um…” Joel trailed off as you breathlessly laughed and told him your name.

He repeated your name trying it out on his tongue; making you wish for nothing more than to hear him say it in his Southern drawl over and over and over-

“I’m Joel,” he stated simply and you gave him a smile and nod of your head, pretending like you hadn’t already done a bit of digging to find out the handsome newcomer’s name a couple months ago when he first visited.

“Well Joel, if you need anything I'll be back behind the register.”

You pointed over to the table with a broken old register that worked just well enough to store the currency the town came up with so there was an extra curtain of civilization despite the events that were anything but that.

You thought it was kind of stupid, but it worked and made people happy so who were you to say otherwise?

He nodded to let you know he heard you as you went back to your previous position: pretending the whole time you weren’t shamelessly ogling the rugged, big, Southern man mindlessly looking through the jackets.

He eventually settled on a nice tan one with flannel material on the inside lining with white fleece on the collar and cuffs.

You quickly looked back down to the inventory papers so you wouldn’t be caught staring when you heard his heavy footsteps approach the counter.

“I’ll take this one,” he grunted as he began to gather up some coins to give you in exchange for the warm, heavy jacket.

You quickly pushed his hand away to alert him that it wasn’t necessary, “You're new here right Joel?” You asked as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow and shook his head in agreement.

“Right, then consider it a welcoming gift—free of charge.”

You gave him a bright smile as he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head causing you to see the honey sparkle in his brown eyes under the bright store light.

“Ya sure? Jacket doesn’t look cheap,” Joel muttered, his gaze flickering to his boots.

“A hundred percent! You’re new and patrolling isn’t an easy job, accept it as a thank you for keeping us safe if anything,” you told him shyly, the smile never leaving your face.

He chuckled softly and nodded his head.

“Okay darlin’, well, thank you—much appreciated.”

You whispered a soft ‘yeah’ as his eyes looked over you, causing a burning feeling to spread throughout your whole body as if you were being branded. He gave you one last nod of his head as he began to turn around and leave the store.

Not to your surprise, an empty feeling immediately filled you in the presence of his absence.

You whispered to yourself to pull yourself together—that you’ve only met him once and that his effect on you should not be this intense.

It didn’t help however as every interaction after that caused your feelings for the large stand-offish man to only grow.

Whether it was a quick acknowledgement of each other when you happened to eat in the dining hall at the same time, or a wave of a hand when you left your houses at the same time in the morning as he headed to patrol and you headed to the store.

But your favorite interactions were when he would come into the store to maybe get a couple of new shirts for Ellie, or some new socks for himself.

Over time you felt him grow more comfortable around you as you did him. He would tell you about Ellie’s latest antics; swearing that the teen girl was trying to ‘send an old man to an early grave.’

You would giggle and tell him that he wasn’t that old and that Ellie was just a teen girl finally in a safe somewhat normal place where she can go to school and make actual friends.

“About that, I think I might needa talk with her teacher soon—she’s been missin too much school and heading off god knows where,” Joel confessed to you, a frown overtaking his aged features as his worry about his adopted daughter showed clear all over his face.

You shyly grabbed his hand across the register and gave it a small squeeze.

“Try not to worry about her too much Joel. She’s young and she didn’t get to have a normal childhood—It's only normal that school probably doesn’t matter too much to her after everything,” you explained hoping that your words may ease him a bit.

He didn’t respond right away, instead looking at where your much softer hand overlapped his bigger, calloused ones. An unreadable look came over his face before he gently took his hand away from yours and looked to the ground.

“Yeah you’re probably right,” he responded in that low tone of his as he slowly began to back up.

“I gotta go check and see if she made it home okay. It was nice seein ya.”

You barely were able to say another word, maybe apologize for touching his hand in such a careless way before his heavy boots were already heading out the door; the little bell ringing a hollow sound in your ears.

After that, you began to see less and less of Joel and it hurt to admit that it slowly felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest.

You hated yourself for thinking that all your interactions meant something to him; that when he started to come to the store, not even leaving with anything but a conversation with you, that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you felt for him.

Every time you even attempted waving at him in the morning when you both left—he just grunted and looked the other way—pretending like you weren’t even there.

The store was for some reason busier than usual today and you closed up feeling drained and ready to sleep. The long shift accompanied by the hollow feeling in your heart Joel had left caused you to want nothing more than to curl up and forget all the pain in nicer dreams where things were better between you, things were different.

Joel would hold your hand in your dream and walk you to work, leaving a kiss on your cheek and a whisper of having a good day as you giggled and kissed him right back—whispering the same sentiments.

You were shaken out of your daydream on your walk home when you spotted the very man at the center of all your thoughts on the porch of someone's house, a woman’s house.

She was gorgeous with long, blonde hair framing her face perfectly, while she looked up at Joel with gorgeous, crystal, blue eyes. She looked older than you too, maybe even closer to Joel’s age.

They laughed about something before she was leading him inside her house as he followed suit; the door shutting in a finality behind them.

You felt a mix of jealousy and an even greater sadness than before filling your belly as you continued what felt like the longest walk home in your life.

As soon as the door closed you slid down the old wood as tears and sobs that you couldn’t stop wracked your body.

You just didn’t understand; what changed, what did you do to make him start avoiding you?

And you knew how hard it was for Joel to come out of his shell, so why did it seem so easy for him to talk and laugh with that woman?

After what seemed like hours, you finally picked yourself off of the ground and trudged slowly to your bed where you collapsed immediately upon impact with the old tattered sheets.

Instead of the usual happy dreams about Joel, tonight you were plagued with endless nightmares of him and the mysterious blonde woman; standing in the place you usually would in your dreams about Joel.

You woke up in the morning with a feeling of restlessness as you readied yourself for another long day of work.

After work that night you decided to go to the Tipsy Bison which was Jackson’s bar that you would usually frequent when your nightmares from the time you were on your own came back to haunt you.

Mindless images of a group of clicker’s taking from you the only person you had left in your life since the virus took over: your best friend.

After she was gone it was just you, and that period never seemed to completely leave your mind even after a year in Jackson.

After last night’s sleep, you definitely needed a drink you thought to yourself as you made your way over. When you entered you saw that it was a pretty busy night for the Tipsy Bison as you did your best to find a seat towards the end of the bar.

Once you took a seat, you gave the bartender your drink order and surveyed the area to see who else was here as you waited for him to deliver your alcohol of choice. Your breathing stopped and your eyes widened when you noticed a familiar group of people at a table closer to the front of the bar.

There in all his ruggish, handsome glory was Joel Miller, smiling widely as he talked with Tommy, Maria, and her.

You quickly swung back around to face where your drink was just set in front of you as you begged the burn in the back of your eyes to go away.

Fuck this, you thought as you downed most of the drink in one go, using your hand to wipe away the bit that escaped at the corner of your lips.

You did your best to ignore the person that was at the center of all your sadness; drinking and drinking until you felt a familiar buzz kick in and begin to cloud your thoughts.

Right when you were about to order another drink, a skinny, tall, blonde boy walked over to where you were seated and said it was on him as he handed over a couple of coins.

“You didn’t have to do that but thanks, I guess,” you muttered, hoping your disinterest was a sign that you wanted to be left alone.

He smiled wide in a way that caused you to shiver, and not in a pleasurable way like when Joel would grace you with the corner of his lip twitching up, releasing a breathless laugh; but in a bad, unnerving way.

“Anything for a girl as pretty as you.”

He winked which caused you to roll your eyes and once again look away from him. “I’m not interested but again, thank you,” you told him with a finality in your voice that the man—no—boy, didn’t take very seriously.

“Aw come on don’t be like that I just wanna have some fun with you,” he said in a sleazy manner as he reached out to grip your shoulder.

You quickly shook him off but in your drunken haze, you accidentally fell off your chair onto the ground—single-handedly causing the whole bar’s eyes to turn onto you.

“Godammit, now you're just causing a fucking scene,” the man snarled at you, causing tears to form behind your eyes as this man's actions as well as having the entire bar watching the now-forming scene.

And if the night couldn’t get any worse, you hear the familiar sound of boots coming up behind the man and it takes just one glance to confirm your suspicions.

“What did you just say to her?”

You heard a deep voice growl out, a look of pure rage overtaking Joel’s features as he stood right in front of the blonde boy’s face.

“Look man I didn’t know she was taken, I was just tryna have a good time, you know?”

An animalistic sound leaves Joel’s mouth before he takes the boy’s arm and forcefully grabs it until he's facing the bar counter and his arm is pressed deep into his back.

“It don’t matter whether she’s taken or not, you never treat a woman like that,” he snarls into the shaking boy’s ear.

“I never wanna see you come near her again, you hear me?”

He shakes his head wildly until Joel finally releases him and he scatters out of the bar. The anger on Joel’s face morphs into one of concern as he gently stretches out a hand to help you up.

“You okay, sweetheart?” He questions softly as you bat his hand away and attempt to stand on your own.

“M’ fine,” you mutter as you stand on shaky legs—about to fall over when Joel rests his big hands on your shoulders to steady you. He chuckles and curls an arm around your waist as he begins to slowly lead you out the door.

“You sure darlin’? Cause’ you seem a lil drunk to me,” Joel says amused at your hindered state while you frown up at him.

“Don’t you have to go back to your girlfriend,” you huff out, avoiding looking at the grumpy man’s features.

“Girlfriend?” He responds confused, not understanding what you were talking about until he catches your eyes drifting to Veronica’s face—Ellie’s teacher.

After the day he left abruptly from your store, he sought out Ellie’s teacher Veronica. They have been having weekly meetings about how Ellie was doing in school as well as her continuous efforts to ditch class.

There was absolutely nothing romantic about it, the whole ordeal gave him a headache—a subject he was too old to be stressing about.

Besides, how could he dare think about anyone else when you had him wrapped around your little finger?

When he first saw you at your clothing store and you gave him his jacket for free, he knew you would be trouble.

And trouble you were as he couldn’t stop himself from continuing to visit you just to see you and hear your comforting voice promise him that all his worries about his adopted daughter were normal.

It was actually your idea that maybe he should at some point meet with Ellie’s teacher. But when your small hand wrapped around his he got scared— scared this could become something real.

Everyone he has ever gotten attached to he’s lost and he already accidentally went and got attached to Ellie, he didn't know if he had it in him to do it to another person.

And on top of that, he was a bad man, he had done horrible things. You were also so much younger and prettier than him—a sweet, soft thing Joel didn’t feel he deserved.

But looking at your heartbroken face now as you looked back at him and then at Veronica, he knew he messed up. He should have never started avoiding you.

It was never the answer, but Joel had never been good at feelings, this much is evident.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you home.”

The walk back from the Tipsy Bison to your house was a pretty close one, your hose only being about five minutes away.

Once you were at your door with a Joel who did not take “leave me alone” as an answer, you struggled to get the key in the lock in your drunken stupor which the large man beside you thankfully helped with.

“Let me do that, sweetheart,” he muttered as his big warm hands covered yours and twisted the key, letting the both of you inside.

“Joel, I don't feel so good…” you said shakily as Joel uttered a “shit” and quickly hurried you to the bathroom which he found pretty quickly—his hands quickly opening the toilet seat and finding purchase in your hair as he held it back, allowing you to empty the contents of your stomach.

“Joel I’m so sorry,” you groaned as a tear fell down your cheek; your sadness, tiredness, and embarrassment flooded in all at once with help from the lingering alcohol in your system.

He shushed you softly and cradled you to his chest taking a second to rock you until your tears stopped and you felt well enough to stand.

“How bout’ you brush your teeth and get your pajamas on—I’ll make you some tea then we’ll talk, yeah?”

You nodded as he gently brushed your cheek with his thumb causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach as he made his way to your kitchen to attempt to find the ingredients and mug he needed.

You cleaned yourself up: showered, brushed your teeth, and put on sleepwear which helped you come back to a clearer state of mind allowing confusion to overtake you.

Why was Joel here taking care of you, wouldn’t his girlfriend begin to ask questions?

You weren’t allowed to keep worrying yourself with your thoughts as a knock on your bedroom door brought you back to reality.

“May I come in? Made ya tea,” Joel’s voice rang out into your room softly as you muttered a quiet, “Sure.”

Joel stepped into the room and handed you the mug which you took a generous sip of—the honeyed flavor soothing your throat and stomach.

“Thank you so much, Joel, for walking me home and taking care of me. I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t go apologizing darlin’ you have done nothin’ to have to apologize for,” Joel interrupted sending you a soft smile as he went to pick up your hand laying on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into the smooth skin.

In a reversal of roles, it was your turn to pull your hand away as Joel frowned and you looked to the floor; he should have expected that after everything that’s happened.

“I guess I deserve that,” he chuckles sadly as your turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Well you have a girlfriend and I bet it would make her uncomfortable if she knew you were holding my hand, Joel.”

Joel couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped him at your words which completely stopped when he saw your features form into one of anger.

“Why is that so funny? That’s why you stopped visiting and talking to me right? Because you found someone else.”

You didn’t mean for it to come out as bitterly or as venomously as you said it but you couldn’t help it. You have spent weeks suffering over his actions towards you and now he helps you home, takes care of you, holds your hand like nothing happened?

“M’ sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was laughing at you. It’s just that…” He trails off collecting himself. Joel sighs out your name and begins to tell you that Veronica is not his girlfriend and that she was just Ellie’s teacher.

He explains to you all about their meetings and that tonight was just him getting her a drink to thank her for all her help.

“I promise you darlin’ it wasn’t anythin’ more than that—don’t feel that way about her at all.”

You process all the information Joel just unloaded on you; and though you do feel relief, you still feel irritation and sadness as his complete throwing away of your friendship—abandoning you without a word. You tell him as much as he releases another sigh and looks down toward the wooden floor.

“Look, m’ not really good at this…” Joel starts, eyes flickering up to your face as he continues.

“But coming into the shop and talkin’ to you started becoming the best parts of my day, sweetheart,” he pauses to give you a look of sincerity and to try holding your hand again—and this time— you let him.

“And I was just downright a coward and instead of facing my feelings I shut you out completely and I feel so fucking awful darlin’ I’m so sorry.” He whispers, tightening his grip on your hand.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I'm hoping you can forgive me and that maybe we can try to be somethin. I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it and I’m so much older than you, but-”

You cut Joel’s rambling off by pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. You begin to pull away when you don’t feel him kissing back, but he doesn’t give you a chance as he cups your head in a big hand and begins to kiss back with more fervor.

“Joel,” you whimper as he begins to lay you back on your bed, his tongue licking the seam of your bottom lip asking for entrance into your soft, warm mouth—which you immediately allow.

“Shhh, darlin’ will you lemme take care of ya? Wanna make you feel so good baby, make up for how bad I've been actin’.”

You let out a moan when you feel the rough denim of his jeans buck up into your soft sleep shorts making contact with your clothed cunt.

“Please Joel, need you so bad,” you whine as he starts to place kisses from your jaw down to your neck—slightly nipping and leaving a trail of small red spots in their wake, which he soothes with his tongue causing a high pitched whimper to leave your lips; beads of frustration beginning to gather at the corner of your lashes.

“I got you sweetheart, I’m right here, can I take this off?” Joel questions as he lifts the hem of your tank top.

You nodded quickly as he borderline rips it over your head, quickly latching a mouth onto one of your nipples as he massages the neglected one with his hand.

“Ohmygod-” you cry as he expertly flicks the bud with his tongue, soon moving over to the other nipple to give it the same treatment.

Arousal pools in your gut as Joel groans, beginning to leave kisses from your sternum, down to the soft skin of your belly, and right to the hem of your sleep shorts.

He leaves a soft kiss there and looks up to you to ask for permission to take them off. You nod vigorously but he shakes his head and leans down more to press a kiss to your clothed core, emitting a loud gasp from your mouth.

“I need words darlin',” he states, glancing back up to you as you vocalize your permission. Joel wastes no time in taking your shorts down in one quick motion once you say yes—leaving you in your white lacy panties.

He runs a finger over the damp spot in your panties and then brings his arched nose close to the spot to breathe you in as well as to lick your folds through the cotton, his nose perfectly bumping your clit in this position causing you to squirm and moan his name.

“Joel please,” you begged as he pulled away and began to run soothing circles into the soft skin of your thighs.

“Please what baby, tell me what you need,” he demands as you try to buck your hips up to his mouth, but he won't let you, strong hands keeping you in place.

“Your tongue Joel I need your tongue,” you whimper but he shakes his head.

“Where do you need my tongue, baby? Gotta tell me if you wanna cum, sweet girl.”

You whine in embarrassment and look down to see Joel Miller with the smuggest smirk you have ever seen.

“I need your tongue on my pussy Joel, please take off my panties and use your tongue,” you beg as he chuckles and gently removes the white lace—quickly stuffing it in his back pocket before you can see.

“Good girl baby, that s’all I needed,” he murmurs as his tongue comes into contact with the bare skin of your folds causing you to gasp his name and grab his salt and pepper hair to hold him against your cunt.

“Oh my god Joel that feels so good!” You cry as his tongue moves from licking solid stripes against your folds to suckling gently on your clit, as your legs threaten to squeeze around his head.

“Fucking Christ sweetheart, you taste so good, can’t get enough of you,” he groans as he continues to lick into you—the coil in your tummy beginning to tighten but you need more to get you to your high.

“Mmm your fingers Joel, please I need your fingers,” you groan, causing Joel to growl against your pussy, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure.

“Okay baby, think you can take two, huh?” he murmurs as he presses several small kisses to the inside of your thigh.

You whimper a small “yes” as he gathers your slick on his middle and ring finger—the burn you feel from the sheer girth of his fingers stretching you open fades into a dull bliss.

“J-Joel I’m close,” you alert him as you buck into his face and fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Yeah, baby? C’mon then cum for me sweetheart, let go,” Joel coos gently and that’s all it takes for the coil in your stomach to snap—a stream of your slick gushing out all over his face and onto the scruff of his beard.

He continues to lick you through it until you're shuttering and mewling from the overstimulation. He pulls away with a large grin on his face as he reaches down to kiss you passionately, the sweetness of your fluids on his tongue making the kiss that much sweeter.

He wiped the rest of you off of his beard before giving you small pecks all over your face until you were giggling and he was chuckling.

“I am sorry y’know,” he whispered in that silky smooth voice of his. You cupped his cheek with your hand, rubbing circles into the scratchy skin.

“I know.”

Joel got up to get a wet cloth to clean you up. He then took his time putting your sleepwear back on—leaving gentle kisses and massaging every inch of your body he could see.

He ended up spending the night as you curled into his strong arms as he stroked your hair until he felt your breathing even out as slumber took over you.

He stayed up and watched you for a while until he soon fell victim to sleep; the thought of him finally being able to be completely happy despite everything was a comfortable thought, and it was all because of you.

#i hope you guys like it omg #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #tlou x reader #joel miller x f!reader

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konigsblog · 3 months

Note

I’m sorry this is a ramble but this thought plagues me and I just can’t write so . Spare me my agony here; older stalker Konig.

He sees you at work, some pretty young thing at a seedy diner or bar, barely old enough to be employed there at all. Too young to be working, you’re something he thinks should be housed away and pampered like some dumb pet, so silly of you to not settle down already. Low hanging fruit is what he takes you for, with how naive and innocent you seem; no concept of the world, of seedy men like himself with too much time and money on his hands, his red flags too visible to anyone who knows what to look for. And you poor, poor thing have no clue what he’s like, his faux charm and large tips and solid build blinding you of his true intentions.

He watches, becomes a regular, gets to know you and make small talk and leave fat tips and cheesy compliments that make you giddy and flustered despite the odd air he has about him or the way your coworkers whisper that he’s no good. Eventually his regular appearances turn into him staying til close, then offering to walk you home his possessive streak covered up by vigilant protectiveness that leaves you dizzy with his little touches to your arm or the small of your back, the nearly parental way he kisses your forehead at your door.

Little did you know he’s been planning the whole time; memorizing your work schedules, your daily schedule, the things you eat or drink, places you go on your days off, watching you through your apartment window or sneaking in when you’re out of the house to raid your dirty laundry or leave a gross surprise of his cum in your leftovers. He’s a shadow in your life, always lurking in the background of every scene no matter where you are or what you’re doing. Eventually he’s sneaking in when you’re asleep, so silent for such a behemoth of a man, so he can paw at your soft and prone form while he pants and spills into his hand like a dog in rut while you’re none-the-wiser, unaware of the way he smears his soiled hand on your skin, your cunt, your pillow or sheets.

When he finally takes things further, too determined to do anything but hoard you all to himself, he’s so sweetly condescending as he relays just how long he had planned everything, how cute and stupid you were to never realize what he had been doing all this time, the bits of himself he left around your apartment, on you, inside of you as a precursor to him claiming you fully. You’ve already consumed so much of his seed, you’ll be fine taking it from the source like a good girl Schatz, nicht? Sure his cock is big, but he knows the best ways to stretch your tight hole already, so you’ll be fine! Just stop thinking and let him have you already, he’s worked so hard for you, your the center of his world. His stupid little Liebling, pathetic and confused as she struggles against her bindings and his hands, no choices left but to plead until her voice dies and give herself over to him, because nothing could convince him to accept no as the answer.

anon, my jaw is on the floor, i absolutely adore older stalker-könig and his creepiness. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

CW: RAPE/NON-CON, AGE GAP, STALKING. 🪦🕊️

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. 18+

my brain rots at the thought of könig sliding inside for the first time, holding your wrists down beside your head as he begins rocking gently. the way he cocks his head to the side almost mocking you, taunting you for being so easy, so pliant, and so vulnerable and naïve around him. the faux sympathy and empathy leaves you longing for his sweet praise, but when you're slapped for falling for the mask he puts on, you sob harder with his slicken cock hammering against your cervix, stuffed inside that inexperienced cunt. it's as if you wanted this to happen, to be used and controlled as if you were a puppet, with your inappropriate and flirty comments after each cheesy, overly sweet compliment he gives you, unaware of his seriousness, how this was a part of his plan to reduce you to a mutt, with your purpose being to serve a man, könig.

he hides himself so well, and you take the bait, falling for the façade of a gentle, older male with sweet intentions. looking back, you can only let out pitiful and pained cries as you connect the dots and realise your stupidity, finally realising what you fell for, how stupid you must look on your back begging for him to stop when he'd given you so many hints and chances to flee, your voice becoming quiet and strained as you plead. the rough texture of his old, scarred skin over your mouth to silence you, against your soft and supple skin, your body shaking with each thrust, showing you what you're worth, what your purpose truly is.

könig shows you what reality is, getting you out of your stupid head, that's doing you no good as he continues with his violation and assault. he teaches you that life isn't fantasy, how you don't know everyone and their intentions or who they truly are, or how you'll fall for it and become a wolf's prey within seconds due to your kindness and naivety, how you never accuse anyone and hope they mean well, too naïve for your own good and assuming the best about everyone. leading you to be forced to take every inch of the man's experienced, hung cock, with your eyes glistening and horrified, and the smell of him on your bedsheets reminding you, or the cum stains along your shirts and panties.

or, perhaps the bruises and marks he leaves along your skin as a warning, or maybe as a sign of ownership - who you belong to, who owns you.

how could you be so foolish? :(

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cinnbar-bun · 4 months

Text

Love Is... (Sanji x GN!Reader)

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~1.9k

Summary: (Requested) Sanji thinks he knows what love is. It's love, after all, and surely he cannot be in love with you, his best friend? Especially not when he has a date already…

Notes: GN!Reader, misunderstanding, angst to fluff, seemingly one-sided but it's basically just denial, Sanji being dense and clueless. Featuring a headcanon of mine where I had an idea that Sanji actually is just super calm whenever he's truly in love with a person. Sanji's date is also GN but not named or described.

You can read this on my AO3 here!

Sanji is always open and honest about his feelings. He wears his heart on his sleeves, as a truly passionate man and self-proclaimed gentleman would. No matter the time or weather, Sanji’s feelings will be clearly shown on his face.

Whenever he sees Robin and Nami, his eyes are practically blown out while his body is a pile of jelly. Whenever he talks to Zoro, his eyebrows are always furrowed and he raises his voice. Whenever Luffy tries to sneak food from the kitchen at midnight, Sanji smokes about two more cigarettes than usual. He dances when he’s happy, he’s focused when he cooks, and when he’s upset, he burns hotter than the kitchen stove.

Except when he is around you. Sanji is completely calm. Nary a cigarette in his mouth, never a hair out of place, and no wrinkles on his skin from his emotional outbursts.

Completely, utterly calm.

One could mistake this as disinterest or neutrality, but for Sanji, it was the opposite.

Unlike how he felt around the others, you, for some strange reason, always made him feel calm and warm. Not in the way alcohol does, not in the way a cigarette clears his thoughts, and not in the way that pretty people would make him feel on cloud nine.

No, no, no, you just made him feel… free.

He had never felt that sort of feeling with anyone before. Nobody. And it puzzled him greatly. The way he felt about you was so different from anything he had ever known- so he chalked it up to being incredibly comfortable around you. Obviously, this is what best friends felt for each other, right?

Loyalty to Luffy, rivalry with Zoro, fondness for Robin and Nami…

Yes, that must be friendship he felt for you. A true, genuine bond that was closer than anything he’d felt for another.

So that’s what he did, what he thought, and where he kept the relationship at. Sanji didn’t think much (or at least, tried not to) of how, occasionally, your hands would brush up against his, how you’d wear that wonderful fragrance, how your smile was enchanting, how you would make a silly little joke that almost sounded like a flirtation- an invitation for something more.

Oh, but he must have been misunderstanding… after all, he couldn’t have been in love with you, right? Love was meant to be passionate, exciting, thrilling, heart-wrenching, turn-your-insides-to-jelly, consuming your every waking thought! That was love, he supposed.

The way he felt about you was like returning home after a long day of work. Of stability, comfort, warmth, a place to be when the times were tough. It was lovely, but it could not have been the love that supposedly made men start wars or nearly rip their heart out of their chest.

He never would pay much mind to how your eyes were almost always on him. He just valued your company. He loved talking with you, sharing food with you, growing from both of your own struggles and issues over your life.

But he would not notice how you would have that wistful look on your face when his back was turned.

And then it happened one day, he accidentally bumped into someone at the market on one of their many stops. His breath was stolen, his heart racing, his eyes widened as he eagerly presented himself to them.

It was instantaneous, but Sanji, ever the romantic, was swept up in the passion and chemistry. It seemed perfect! Just perfect!

That good mood didn’t go unnoticed by you and the others as he returned to the rooms whistling a tune. He happily shared what went down at the marketplace, and some of the Straw Hats cheered for their cook hitting it off with someone.

They didn’t notice your shocked expression and silence.

The cycle repeated. He’d rendezvous with the market place crush and find himself swept up in the thrill of love.

Why, they were practically perfect together! They liked food- he enjoyed cooking it. They liked the ocean- he sailed all over it.

His excitement over their connection made him come back to you in a hurry, and unlike the enthusiasm he held all day, the minute his eyes met yours, his shoulders relaxed.

“I had a great time today. I think I might have a real chance with them.”

“Oh… I’m glad,” you nod, doing your best to not let your feelings cloud your judgment. “I’m happy for you.”

When you praise him like that, the grin on his face grows wider and he nods.

“Thank you. You… you are always so kind to me. Thank you, for everything. How about I cook you your favorite meal tonight?”

“It’s alright,” you reject quickly. “I’m not that hungry.”

He notices you’re off today and his smile is gone. “Hey, what’s wrong, (Y/n)?”

“Nothing. I’m just not feeling too well. I think I’m going to lay down.”

He respects your feelings plenty, so he nods and wishes you better health while you retreat. He doesn’t hear the muffled sobbing from you in your room.

Another day, another date.

This time, he notices his date does not sparkle like they used to. Strange, he knows, but something is “off” about them today. Oh well, love is never straightforward, so he can brush that feeling aside with some wine.

His heart doesn’t race anymore. The silly jokes they told don’t make him laugh as much.

Ah, perhaps he’s just tired, too?

He ends the date earlier than expected, not going on their usual walk under the stars in favor of returning home.

The Straw Hats are scattered as usual. Luffy is (attempting) to play cards with Usopp and Chopper. Robin is reading off to the side while Zoro fell asleep standing up alongside the railing. Nami is fiddling with a map while Jinbei is pointing at something on it. Franky and Brook are flipping through racy magazines and giggling at the various models within them.

“Where is (Y/n)?” Sanji asks.

“Ah, they’re inside. Said they weren’t feeling too well,” Usopp answers.

“They didn’t even let me look at them,” Chopper pouts, tears forming in his eyes.

Sanji thanks them for their answer and makes his way to your room. He knocks on the door but doesn’t hear a word from inside.

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?” Sanji calls.

“Yeah, just… just let me rest, Sanji,” you weakly reply. You sound miserable, and his heart breaks for you.

“Can I make you something? Anything? Maybe some soup?” He pleads, worry evident in his voice.

“I’m good.”

There’s no argument left, so he steps away and sighs, feeling like he wants to drown himself in his cigarettes.

It’s morning again and Sanji feels a migraine forming. His head is pounding and he groans when he sees the light from his window. But he promised to see them again, so he gets up and does his best to adjust himself. Love is sometimes painful, but it’s a worthy sacrifice.

He greets them when they glide up to him, smiling, but Sanji grimaces as his head throbs harder. He’s a gentleman, a respectful man, so he will not show it.

They talk. They talk. They talk. The words don’t register to Sanji. And for the first time in his life, he feels… nothing. Not a comforting emptiness when one feels relieved of all burdens… but the emptiness one feels when nothing is being satisfied.

They talk, yet they say nothing. None of the words mean anything to Sanji. Are they even speaking the same language? Sanji rubs his head, his vision blurry for a moment before it straightens out.

Nothing.

He feels nothing. There is no spark anymore. It’s just dull, lifeless conversation.

“...... Sanji?”

“Huh? Oh, I’m sorry, what were you saying?” He apologetically asks.

Their voice is like static. Garbled nonsense he can’t decipher.

He keeps trying to concentrate, trying to keep his eyes on them and just make sense of any word they say, but nothing connects.

Love was supposed to be beautiful. Love was supposed to be passionate, all-encompassing, life-changing.

Love wasn’t supposed to be so drab.

What happened to the love they shared before? Was it them? Was it him? Was he doing something wrong? Was he… was he mistaken?

His date is getting confused, staring at him with raised brows. “Are you even listening?”

“I…” He begins. “I’m sorry. I don’t think this can work out.” “What?”

“I don’t know,” he tries to speak his feelings. “I wasted your time, dear. That’s my fault. Let me escort you home, at the very least.”

He receives a harsh slap across his face and some obscene words, but he can barely think straight with his aching head. He stumbles back to the ship, wanting to rest when he bumps into something.

“Would you-” he begins angrily, before he notices it’s you. You’re holding a plate of the leftovers he cooked yesterday night, and your eyes are wide, almost afraid, when you look at him.

His eyes meet yours, locked in their beauty as he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Instantaneously, the migraine, the head pounding, the blurriness, the slap- all of it melts away.

He feels safe and at full health when he sees you. He can’t help but smile at you, making you turn away.

“Sorry. I’ll go-”

“No, no, (Y/n),” the way he says your name, full of life and renewed vigor is too much for you. “Here, let me cook you a new plate. And then, if you don’t mind, would you join me on the deck?”

“But I thought you were out with that person you met?” You ask, and he notices the curious yet hopeful change in your voice.

“Them? Ah, it’s a long story. I… I don’t think they were the one,” Sanji explains, his cheeks turning pink. Finally, after looking at you, the gears in his head clicked and connected in a way they hadn’t before. “No… they never would be. I already have the one I love most with me.”

Your eyes sparkle and your lips curve upwards, showing him the smile he absolutely adored the most.

“You mean that?”

“I do. I do mean that. I just didn’t understand. But seeing you now…” he takes the dish out of your hand and puts it to the side before he wraps his hands in yours. “I know what I truly was looking for.”

The joy on your face was immeasurable, and Sanji felt the thoughts in his head leave. There was nothing inside except that warm feeling he got whenever you were around.

Perhaps true love was not a hurricane, or a storm, or a raging fire… perhaps it was a warm summer day. A plate of leftover food. Bed head. Migraines. The sound of a calm sea crashing against the shore. The chirping of seagulls around them.

Maybe that was love. Not a feeling of agony and pain, but a gentle yet firm reminder of his existence.

“I’m sorry for being such a fool earlier. I apologize for springing all of this on you, but I-”

“I know. I love you, too,” you cut off his ramblings. His face softens as he laughs at his embarrassing display.

“God, I’m sounding like an idiot right now.”

“Yeah, a bit,” you tease.

“Can I be your idiot?”

“Always.”

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece oneshots #reader insert #x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji

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azrielbrainrot · 7 months

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SFW Alphabet with Azriel

note: I've seen a lot of people from a lot of fandoms do this so I have no idea who made the original prompts. Let me know if you do so i can tag them!

also I don't know what this is, just wanted to write down my thoughts

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

I think Azzie is really affectionate but mostly in private. I see him always gravitating around you and giving you small soft touches when you're in front of the ic or other people but then being clingy as hell when you're alone. This man is touch starved, he needs to catch up.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I think you'd have to fist fight Cass for the title but he would be the best friend ever. I mean he's been nothing but soft and helpful with all of his friends. After you get past his millions of trust issues, Az is probably really easy to befriend. It might take a while for you to get to bestfriend but i don't think it would be hard.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He demands cuddles every night. I can see him being the little spoon as often as he's the big spoon, depends on what he's feeling up to that day.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

I think that's all he wants at this point and he's probably such a good cook.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He'd probably be really firm but also really nice about it which would actually make it hurt infinitely worse. I can see him literally going down a list of your qualities and telling you how truly amazing you are while breaking up with you. He'd make sure you were semi alright before leaving as well but still make sure you knew this was final.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Well he craves commitment but he also has been running from it for over 500 years so I think it's a complicated feeling. I think he wants commitment more than anything but is also a tiny bit afraid of it and he only wants it with the right person.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's so gentle I could cry. He's been waiting all his life for someone to love and he will treat you with the most care possible both emotionally and physically.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I don't see Az being that much of a hugger but he probably gives the best hugs. Both arms (and wings) wrapped around you and face buried in your neck or in your hair type of hugs.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I'm not sure he's ever said it to someone romantically (probably hasn't said it too many times platonically either) so it would probably take a while. He'd want to make sure it will really work out before saying it. You'd probably have to say it first.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I know this is supposed to be sfw but he probably ties you up with his shadows and fucks you within an inch of your life. I don't think he'd be getting jealous all that often (excluding the typical mate possessiveness) but he'd still fuck you extra hard just to make sure. Besides that I think he could actually feel really hurt by it if it's a more serious scenario like imagine you've been hanging out with someone a lot and he starts to feel excluded. In that case I think his abandonment issues would resurface and you'd have to remind him how much you love him and how silly it would be to even entertain the idea of wanting someone else.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He gives the best kisses and I will not take any criticism on this. Like soul consuming type of kisses. Not only does he have 500 years of practice but even when he was young I just know he made sure to perfect it because he can't do anything half assed. His shadows might even give him little tips

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He has such a calming presence that I just know kids love him. And his shadows probably give him brownie points. He's probably awkward at first though.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Well he trains at the crack of dawn so you'd probably wake up to an empty bed :/ but he'd always kiss your cheek before leaving even if you're unaware. Might even leave you little notes on your nightstand sometimes.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Reading in bed together. Cuddling covered in his shadows, completely hidden away from the rest of the world. Tucked away and watching over everyone at parties with the rest of the inner circle. Flying over velaris when his insomnia gets the best of him. Cute picnic dates in an isolated place somewhere only the two of you know. (I didn't wanna say fucking because this is sfw but let's be honest). I think every night with Azriel would make you fall in love with him all over again.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It would take time for Azriel to really open up and I definitely think he'd go bit by bit.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

I think he tries to be as patient as possible but let's not forget he almost killed Eris and was the first to speak up when Tamlin was insulting Feyre. He's probably really patient normally, especially with his partner and family, but when he gets angry I think it boils over quickly.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers everything about you to the point you suspect he has a journal with every little detail.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Is it too cheesy to say he cherishes every moment he's had with you? He definitely cherishes just having you there in the moments he felt lonely before. Like coming home from a mission and instead of an empty room you're right there waiting for him, probably staying up to see him even when he tells you it's not necessary. When he has nightmares and you're right there comforting him and kissing his tears away. At family dinners when he doesn't have to feel jealous of his brothers and just reaches out and kisses your hand making you smile at him and have him thank the Mother for the thousandth time for gifting him the blessing of a mate as lovely as you.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's really protective. Probably keeps some of his shadows around you to make sure you're alright at all times. But I think he also wants to feel protected since he had so many times when no one was protecting him.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He would go above and beyond every time. Always searching for new restaurants that cook your favorite foods or picnic spots that would take your breath away. He would give you the most thoughtful gifts too, things you barely remember mentioning. He'd give you these gifts out of nowhere too. He'd spoil you rotten really.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I don't see him being great at communicating. If he feels hurt by something i think he'd pull back instead of addressing it. I feel like he has some passive aggressiveness in him as well.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I don't think Azzie is as nonchalant about his looks as he appears to be. He's not as concerned as Rhys but I don't think he's that far off either.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes which makes me a bit sad.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Azriel pets and feeds stray cats and you can't convince me otherwise. He's also the top benefactor of every shelter in the night court.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

People that aren't open minded.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Not sleeping. jk He loves sleeping on his stomach with his face buried in your neck or chest and will literally purr if you pet his hair. I think he'd pull you to him unconsciously as well.

#azriel headcanons #acotar headcanon #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fic

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lucysstoryworld · 1 year

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Lease of Life | Azriel x Reader Part 1

Summary: The youngest Archeron sister had been plagued by sickness her whole life. Her family just had to watch as she endured a slow, agonising death. However, the events of her sister’s transition into Prythian has the Archeron sisters having to endure the change of their very existence. It seems to be a new lease of life for (F/n), but her new life is not as sweet as she would like as she realises that she is slowly falling for the Shadowsinger, whom only has his sights set on her elder sister.

Warnings: Death, violence, angst, dark thoughts.

Series Masterlist

Hey! This is my first Azriel fic after having so many ideas! I hope you enjoy and let me know if you have any feedback. I’d be willing to start a tag list for anyone who might be interested, but I will not accept anyone who is under the age of 18, so please either state your age in either the ask/message/comment or just have it in the bio of your blog!

Soft light peaked through curtains, bringing with it a gentle breeze from the cracked window. It would have been serene were it not for the pain that accompanied your existence in this world. Another day of being coddled like a child by the maids. Perhaps your sisters would grace you with their presence again today, letting you know that they had found yet another healer who claimed to have the ability to nurse you back to health.

Health. Not a day in your twenty years had you ever paired yourself and the word healthy in one sentence. Sick from birth. Living from one ailment to the next, waiting for the day where you did not awake again. When your father had lost his wealth, you and your three sisters were forced to move into more “modest” living circumstances your father had called it. Not that you considered slowly starving to death modest. The gain that Feyre had hunted was barely enough to scrape by on, let alone having to spend any spare coin she had to provide you with medicines so you did not meet your maker within the following days. Guilt consumed you when you realised she would give you half her serving of food, see her forego a new cloak to get her hands on some sort of treatment for you. Often you had wished that your next bout of flu or fever would suck you into the darkness just so Feyre, Nesta, Elain and your father might have better quality of life.

But then, Feyre had left. Gone with some distant, well off aunt. From living in a hovel, to being reintroduced to wealth you could just barely remember. Feyre took with her Nesta’s shame, your father’s sadness and Elain’s desperation. If only she had taken your sickness too. You had hoped that the sudden wealth would provide some cure. That would give you a new lease of life. However, healer after healer, remedy after remedy had dashed all hopes of you ever living a normal life. Though, Nesta and Elain seemed determined to scour to the ends of the earth for a healer that could give you your life back.

It had frustrated you. Their sudden willingness to help when they watched Feyre give everything but the clothes off her back for you. They sat and judged her. Nesta’s pride was just as strong as her protection over Elain. Two women content with sitting around, waiting for a man to take their hand in marriage. Pathetic. You wanted to shake them out of their silly daze, tell them to go live the life you yearned for. Travel, go horseback riding, anything. Anything other than sitting around the house, gossiping with those who turned their noses up at you and your family when poverty had the Archerons in a chokehold. Those same people who now looked at you as a charity case. Spoke about you as if you were not in front of them.

How terrible for such youth to be bed bound.

So disappointing for a lady of your age to be unable to get married.

Never to have children — such a shame.

The maid entering the room tore you from your pitiful thoughts. “Good morning, (F/n). How are you feeling?”

“The same as I have all my damn life, Dina,” You all but bit back.

“Language, child. You won’t get better with that attitude.” Another optimist. Great. It took every modicum of self control not to tear into her. But you would not. Dina was about as kind as they got. She was the closest thing to a mother you had known, after losing your own before you were old enough to walk.

“Sorry, Dina. What’s on the schedule for today?” You hoped there would be no visits from any of your sisters’ aristocrat friends. Not today, today you were tired and wished to at least pretend as though you were normal.

As if the gods above had answered your prayers, Dina spoke “Nothing, for once, sweet one,” She replied softly as she helped you to sit. “You may do what you please today.” Her voice was like honey as she took a brush to your thin hair. Dina was the only handmaid who had treated you like a human. Although she was cautious, she allowed you some freedoms that often had your sisters reeling with concern. Nesta had tried to dismiss her the first time you walked around the manor with Dina by your side, claiming that a seizure could take you at any moment and that Dina was not fit to look after you. She had relented when she saw how genuinely happy you looked at the mere prospect of walking .

“Great! I would like to have breakfast in the dining hall with my sisters today.” With a ‘hmph’ of agreement from Dina, she prepared you for the day. She smoothed each article of clothing over you as if you were a living, breathing work of art.

Once she was satisfied, her brows furrowed slightly as she held her hand to your forehead, “You have a slight fever, child. You better take it easy today.”

With a sigh from deep within your soul, you breathed a “I always do.”

The walk from your bedroom to the dining hall was more taxing than what you were used to, a tell tale that you would likely be completely incapacitated in the following days. Though you did not let it show. If there was even so much a whisper of your health taking another turn, Nesta and Elain would have one of the butlers carry you back to your room. As you approached the doors to the dining room, you could’ve sworn you could hear Feyre. You knew it wasn’t true. She hadn’t visited once since she left for your aunt’s. However, the closer you got, the more voices you could hear. “I thought you said there were no plans today.”

“There wasn’t.” Perhaps it was one of Elain’s wedding planners who had an appointment. Ugh.

Nothing could prepare you for what you saw when you opened the door. Fae. There was no doubt about it when you beheld the wings, the pointed ears and the ethereal beauty each of them possessed. In spite of the fact that the creatures you were taught to fear were standing a mere few feet from you, what sent your mind into a haze was seeing Feyre with them. Standing among them with pointed ears, with a frame more elongated than what you remembered, with that same otherworldly presence than the others.

“What the fuck,” You breathed, not entirely sure if this was a dream your fevered brain had concocted.

“(F/n) what are you doing out of bed?” Nesta barked, rushing over to you. Within an instant, she was shielding you from the guests. Her hands brushing over your cheeks and forehead. “You’ve got a fever, you shouldn’t be down here. Go back to your room.” Nesta’s voice did not leave much room for argument.

“(F/n),” Though Feyre looked different, her voice was just the same. The only difference, that she sounded more mature from when you last saw her in your dilapidated cottage. Pushing passed Nesta, you walked to just in front of your sister, who seemingly held her breath as you assessed her. Face filled out, strong body and she looked happy. Happy with her company and the beautiful man with violet eyes standing next to her. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. You had never seen her at a loss for words, not with you, not ever. The man by her side placed a hand on the small of her back as you continued to scan her silently. She did not break your gaze once, but visibly relaxed just at the touch of her partner, you had gathered by now. “(F/n), I’m sor-.”

Before she could even finish, you flung your arms around her, holding onto her as though she had risen from the dead. And when Feyre returned the embrace, you buried your head into the crook of her neck to hide your tears from her company. “Don’t,” you sobbed, “Don’t you apologise to me. Not when you are the only reason we did not die in that cottage.” It was now Feyre’s turn to cry. Pulling away from her, you smoothed your hands over her hair. Eyes taking in every single detail and committing them to memory. You wiped her tears with your thumbs and placed a kiss on each of her cheeks. “Do you want to introduce us to your friends before this gets awkward?” You joked.

Feyre stepped back into the arms of the man, while Nesta and Elain approached your side. Nesta looked as though she was ready to rip Feyre to shreds and Elain looked entirely bewildered by the situation. “Nesta, Elain, (F/n)... This is Rhysand. The High Lord of the Night Court in Prythian and my mate,” you looked to the man standing next to Feyre, his eyes piercing yet kind. Both Nesta and Elain stood stationary. Assessing him. Calculating whether or not he was a threat. Looking from them to Rhysand with a slight roll of your eyes, you approached him and offered your hand.

His hand was large and strong, you could’ve sworn you could feel the magic thrumming in his blood. With a gentle smile, you looked deep into his eyes. “Rhysand, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, (F/n). Feyre has told me a great deal about you.” His voice was like spiced rum, filling you with warmth akin to the heat of a fire on a frigid snowy night.

Your eyes shot to Feyre’s with a knowing smirk, her cheeks rosy as she beheld her... mate she called it. She gestured towards the blond woman next, who appeared to be very eager to meet you, “This is Morrigan. Rhys’s cousin. She oversees the court.”

“Nice to meet you, Morrigan.” Shaking her hand, you laughed gently as she smiled at you excitedly.

“It’s great to meet you, (F/n).”

“Next is Amren, Rhys’s second in command.” You barely registered Feyre as you moved to look at Amren. Amren seemed different than the others, though you could not quite place your finger on it. Nonetheless, you shook her hand and introduced yourself. Feyre moved on to to the tall winged men next. “This is Cassian, the general of the Night Court’s armies.”

Cassian had his eyes trained on Nesta, the two in a staring contest. Each of their expressions were about as sour as they got, daring one another to say or do something brash. You snorted slightly, drawing Nesta and Cassian’s attention to you, “I haven’t seen anyone that didn’t wither under Nesta’s glare,” You could feel her burning holes into the back of your head yet you remained fixed on the general, “It’s nice to meet you, general.”

“It’s nice to meet the sister Feyre speaks nothing but fondly of,” He replied quietly, taking your hand in his and looking at you with so much emotion. You weren’t sure where it came from, but he was clearly troubled about being in the presence of Nesta. You were sure you’d find out soon whether you wanted to or not.

Feyre ushered you along to the final member of the group, not without a pointed and warning glance at the general. “Last, but not least, (F/n) this is Azriel. The spymaster of the Night Court.”

For once, you felt at a loss for words. The being in front of you was the most striking man you had ever seen. As if the gods themselves had forged him. His dark skin, golden eyes, short black hair and domineering wings jutting out each side of him. His gaze sucked the breath from your lungs. Azriel held his gloved hand out, and you absentmindedly lifted your own to meet it. The heat of his grasp jumpstarted your brain back to reality. With flushed cheeks and a smile you found your voice, “Pleasure to meet you, Azriel.”

Azriel nodded in acknowledgment as his eyes swept over you, “Pleasure is all mine.” Gods, his voice was unlike anything you had ever heard. It sent a wave of shivers gliding across your body. Although, you were aware of the way he was analysing you. Scoping out whether you were any sort of liability to his court. Figures.

Letting go of his hand, you stepped back and addressed the group as a whole, “While it is lovely to meet you all, I’m sure you are not here to just reunite Feyre with her family.”

This seemed to bring Nesta to life as she stood in front of you, taking command of being host instead, “I agree. What do you want, Feyre?” Nesta’s demeanour sucked the joy out of the room within the second, Feyre’s face turning grim.

“We should sit down,” She replied quietly. Unease settled in your stomach. Grabbing her hand, you guided her to the table and sat yourself next to her. Rhysand placed himself on her right, and the rest of her… friends sat around you both. Your remaining sisters sat across from you, Nesta making sure she gave you a disapproving stare before she refocused on Feyre.

The talking went on for what felt like hours, Feyre explaining the war across the wall which seemed to have the end of the mortal worlds written in its destiny. The thought of it made you sick, the fighting that was approaching. Approaching fast. And you knew, that you would have to lie in your bed and wait. Sit idly by as your dearest sister fought a war that was not hers to start with yet she had embraced because of the people sitting around you both. A family. That’s what they were. Rhysand and his peers were a family. Part of your soul ached at the notion of Feyre leaving you and your dysfunctional family in order to find one that suited her better. That she had not visited once, to try and work on her relationships. But you quickly dashed all thoughts, understanding flooding your senses. When she was human, she gave up everything so everyone else would thrive around her. She hunted so you had food, she got money in whatever way she could so your family stayed clothed. Most of all, she had to fight tooth and nail in a losing battle to make sure you did not die. So she left.

And did not blame her for it.

In the brief moments you were stuck in your thoughts, Nesta and Cassian were nothing short of brawling.

“That’s enough,” Feyre all but boomed. Her sudden burst seemed to hit Nesta like ice cold water.

“You do not get to come into my home and order me around after you left!” Nesta spat in reply, “You do not get to come here and ask of us what you are asking!”

Feyre took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, “I know that, Nesta, I know. I wouldn’t put you three in this position if I didn’t think it was-.”

“Don’t finish that. Don’t you dare. Because this is not the first time you’ve done this. Not when you showed up a year ago wailing about another fae you just had to save, leaving us in the dust again!” It was rare that you ever saw Nesta this riled up. Her anger was something you tried to avoid at all costs. You believed that if she had the ability, Nesta’s rage would burn the world down around her.

That was not what you were focused on in that moment. No, it was what she said about Feyre already having been there. A year ago. “What are you talking? When was Feyre here last?” Heat spread across your body, the fever catching up with you. Nesta’s eyes shot to you as she realised what she had just let out of the bag. “You’re saying Feyre was here a year ago and you didn’t let her see me. Is that what you’re saying?” Your body began to feel strange. A slight sweat was breaking out across your forehead as a thrumming began in your head.

“(F/n) you were very unwell when Feyre arrived last year, you were barely hanging on and we didn’t want to stress you out more than what was necessary.” The first time Elain had spoken this whole time. She spoke gently as though you would break at any moment.

“Oh please, spare me!” You snapped. “I’m so sick of you treating me like this! Would you all get a grip! I’m dying, and have been since the day I was born! Just accept it!” You shoved your chair back from the table with trembling hands. Standing brought with it a wave a dizziness that you did not allow anyone the time to observe before you continued your rant, “For once, I just want you to think about me and not yourselves. Just once! You would have let me die a year ago without the chance to see my sister one last time. Whether you like it or not, these are not your decisions to make. They’re mine.” You began walking towards Dina, whom you hadn’t realise has been tucked away in the back of the room this whole time.

It took one look at you for her to realise you were going downhill, and fast. She quickly approached you and placed her hand on your forehead once again, “You are burning up, child. Come, you need rest. This was too much for you,” She spoke quietly, sending a quick but not unnoticed glare at your sisters. Feyre included.

“Dina…,” You whispered, vision swimming. “Dina, I don’t feel good.” Your body began to hunch as the nausea took hold.

With speed you didn’t quite understand, Feyre was next to you with her new family in tow. She placed a hand on your back, looking at her mate with concern. Gods, she had never seen you so weak. When you entered the room, she felt as though she was looking at a living corpse. You looked so different from when she left the cottage and not in a good way. Cheeks sunken, dark bags, skin clammy and a body that was so thin that it looked like a breeze could’ve knocked you over. Her heart was like led as she realised that you were, in fact, close to the end. Your mortal body would not hold out much longer.

As if fate was playing a cruel trick on her, Feyre watched as your body crumpled on the floor, laboured breaths leaving your body as consciousness slipped away from you. Rhys was on his knees next you in an instant, about to take away any pain you were feeling when “Don’t you lay a hand on her,” Nesta barked.

“Nesta please! He can help,” Feyre pleaded, grabbing your hand in a panic.

“Now is not the time for bickering. Help me take her to her rooms and I will look after her,” Dina ordered. The group looked toward one another. No one missed the way you looked for your maid. They saw how much trust you put into her, so they did as she said. Azriel stood forward and carried you to your room, with everyone following close behind.

As he set you on the bed, he stood back and watched as the maid began placing damp washcloths onto your head. Every time he had been in the human lands, he had found it unsettling to see how illness could kill so easily. How fragile human life was. And seeing the way Feyre paced the bedroom made him realise just how much she had forgotten it as well.

“Dina,” Nesta finally spoke, though her eyes did not leave your struggling form for a second as though she was afraid you would die the moment she moved her gaze. “How long does she have?”

“It’s hard to say,” Grim, that was the only way to describe her tone, “She has a strong heart. And she has pulled through worse. But there’s only so much her body can take.” Dina began stroking your hair gently. “She knows this too. (F/n) told me recently that she can feel her time approaching. She is giving up. I have tried to keep her spirits up but she has lived her whole live like this. She only wants us all to give up too so she may die peacefully.” Elain began to cry softly, each and every being in the room coming to the realisation that they were witnessing your death. Witnessing your death before you had truly lived. “She isn’t likely to wake again before tomorrow and if she does, she won’t make much sense with her fever.” While Dina was not directly dismissing the group, they were all clever enough to read between the lines; leave and let (F/n) rest.

* * *

Coolness draped across your forehead is what eventually pulled you back to consciousness. A wave of violent shivers had you trying to pull the cloth from your head, when a gentle hand kept it in place. Opening your eyes took more effort than you were willing to admit. Dina was standing over you, her slightly wrinkled face smiling gently down at you, “You know the drill, sweet girl. I can’t let you take the cloth off.”

Grumbling a sigh, you attempted to sit up. The pain that clamped down on your head rendered your attempt useless as you settled back into your pillow. “How long was I out?”

“A few days, Feyre and her friends left the same day they arrived.” Dina spoke softly, taking your hand and massaging it gently.

“So it wasn’t a dream then, she was here,” Tears gathered along your eyes. Frustrated that you had only gotten to spend such little time with her.

“I’m afraid so, child. But she will be back within a few weeks.”

“You and I both know I don’t have a few weeks,” You whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, despair would rip you apart. For so long, you had accepted your fate. But now, things were changing. Your sister was fae and had come home to ask for help. It had been a long time since you felt this way. Felt like holding on, just to see this out. But it was too late, your body was giving up.

“I know, (F/n), I know. Your sisters asked me to alert them when you awoke. I will go get them now.” You appreciated Dina not trying to convince you that this wasn't the end.

“Don’t bother, it’s late and the conversation can wait until tomorrow. I don’t fancy listening to excuses about why they didn’t tell me that Feyre was here a year ago.”

“Very well. I am going to bed, but as always, if you need anything just ring the bell and I will be straight up. Sleep well, sweet girl.” Dina leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your clammy cheeky before fluffing up your pillow and securing the washcloth to your head before taking her leave.

Staring up at the ceiling, thoughts rushed through your head. Feyre’s new existence, Elain and Nesta’s betrayal, your own fate. It was all so confusing. For the first time in your life, you wished you had the normal life of an aristocrat girl of your age. The only drama occurring in their lives was what member of nobility had found themselves in compromising situations, like a family member becoming pregnant before wedlock. A humourless chuckle left your lips, how mundane that life seemed yet so appealing in your current state.

It felt like hours before you were ripped from your thoughts by the sound of distant crashing somewhere in the manor. Despite the barking pain across your body, the noise had you sitting upright in an instant, heart thumping painfully in your chest. A second later, Dina was in your room, her face and body the epitome of panic, “Stay quiet,” She whispered. She made quick work and pushing some heavy furniture in front of the door.

“Dina, what’s going on?” Panic was gripping you, the adrenaline making you stand with little effort.

“I do not know, child. Stay back, you are still weak.” Ushering you to the furthest point from the door, she stood like a rock in front of you, as if she could protect you from whatever the world was throwing at you in that moment.

Not even a few breaths later, the door and all the furniture in front of it was ejected across the room, wood splintering and crashing to the floor in pieces. A scream rattled through both you and Dina, the latter curling herself around you to prevent the wood from impaling you. The sound of heavy footsteps had Dina turning her back on you once again.

“Step aside, human.” It was fae who had invaded your home. From what you had gathered from Feyre’s visit, it was likely their enemies. Leverage. That’s what the intruders were seeking.

“Leave, creature. I will not ask you twice,” Dina growled. Her courage was unmatched, such a strong woman that you wished you could be like. However, your trembling body represented quite the opposite of the bravery your handmaid was presenting.

A cruel snicker escaped the fae’s mouth, and his smile sent every hair on your body standing on end, “Interesting. Brave humans are always the most fun.”

Before Dina had a chance to open her mouth in retort, the beast was on her in an instant, grabbing her by the neck. You could not tear your eyes from her body being lifted from the ground, the noise of her choked sputters had you begging the intruder to let her live, “Please! I’ll do anything, just let her go!”

The creature locked eyes with you, his gaze looking through rather than at you, “Good, that’s what I like to hear,” He started lowering Dina slightly.

“..R-...Run!” She squealed, voice cracking under the grip of her attacker.

Gods you wanted to, but fear anchored your feet to the ground. Dina’s eyes pleaded with you, begged you to run for your life. As if the fae attacker knew what you were gearing up to do, he snapped the Dina’s neck and lunged for you instead. Your screams ripped through the manor as Dina’s lifeless eyes looked to the roof, unseeing. You barely registered Dina’s murderer grabbing you and hauling you towards the exit as your soul seemed to stay in your bedroom with Dina’s corpse. It just didn’t make any sense, just a few hours before she was kissing your cheek before bed. She was supposed to be sound asleep, resting for another day of looking after you in your sickly state.

“(F/n)!” Nesta’s panicked shout shocked you into action, pulling and scratching at your attacker.

“No!” You attempted to pull yourself away as Nesta and Elain’s own captors knocked them unconscious. Yet, before you met the same destiny as your sisters, the stress your body was under had black tunnelling your vision. Blood began to trickle from your nose, and the pulsing in your head rendered you limp in the arms of the stranger.

Before your awareness evaded you, you faintly heard the group laughing with a taunting, “Bet you wish your one went down this easy.”

Following that, the world went black.

***

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#azriel #acotar #acotar azriel #acotar angst #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel angst

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