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myeuphoricmindset · 4 months ago

Text

Let me remind you

(middle photo credit: @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

Paring | Eddie Munson x fem!blind reader

Summary | Reader is blind and Eddie is utterly obsessed with you, going out of his way to play you music and read to you. It’s simply a friendship, but he can’t stop himself from crossing the line.

Notes/tags | That’s correct, the reader is blind. I do not mean to write this in any way that would be insensitive; I just loved the idea of seeing Eddie care for someone who has a disability. The way he would be so sweet and go above and beyond. If this fic rubs anyone the wrong way or makes anyone uncomfortable, please let me know, and I’ll remove it. My intentions are pure. It’s a very sweet fic with the vibes of what it feels like to be young and in love. — No smut, but there is making out, and it feels very sensual. Also, cheesy AF.

I do switch back and forth with povs, don’t expect this to go by the writers rules.

— Oh, I listened to Ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine while writing this. But what’s new? I always write Eddie fics to that song, even years later.

Word count | 2.1k

Eddie always met you outside. He waits on his porch, finishing his cigarette, and the moment he sees you approaching, he gets up quickly to close the distance, taking your hand to guide you to his place. He loves the excuse to touch you. He’s not greedy either; just your hand in his makes him secretly giddy. He’s focused on it the whole way to his room, even though he’s talking your ear off about a new song he wrote.

Nothing about this is new or different. Eddie inviting you over to play music and talk well into the night has become normal. A friendship that never crosses the line, but Jesus Christ, he thinks of crossing the line all the time. He wonders if your touch would feel different if it was reaching out with love instead of friendship. He doesn’t dare feed into his thoughts of how your kiss would feel and if his name would sound different if you moaned it into his ear.

He admires you as he strums his guitar, only half-focused on the song. By now he’s memorized every curve of your face and has counted every lash on your eyes. It feels wrong to stare, knowing he can’t be caught. Can you feel his gaze?

You’re lying in your usual spot on his bed, surrounded by his scent in the sheets. You try to hide the deep inhales you take as if it were the last time you’d be here. But, it’s not. You’ll be back tomorrow, as you always are.

He plays beautifully, and you try not to smile because he plays softer for you than he does during his shows. Is he nervous to scare you off? He never could.

“I love it,” you say as he finishes the song.

He smiles, and you know because it’s laced with his voice, “You do?”

The sound of his guitar being placed on the wall mount is familiar, followed by the radio on his dresser being turned on. It’s only for background noise. Eddie hates silence, and you can’t help but wonder if he just doesn’t like to sit with his thoughts.

You both lie on his bed in deep conversation with no sense of time. Eddie lazily plays with small strands of your hair with the hand draped behind his head. Does he realize that you notice every time he does it? It makes your stomach flutter.

“Read to me?” you ask as you shift onto your stomach, feet rising up behind you.

Eddie takes a moment to speak, but you hear his breath hitch, and when he does speak, his breath is warm against your face. He shouldn’t be surprised by your question as he reads to you every night, but maybe it’s the way you’re closer to him than before.

Your bodies aren’t touching, but there is a sense of intimacy with the way he’s lying on his back, most likely looking up at you, and the way you’re on your stomach, nearly looming over him.

Unsure if he’s uncomfortable by the way his breathing becomes uneven, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your water, trying to make it seem like you’re giving him a little space. When you return to your position, you’re a few inches away from him.

You realize you were wrong about him feeling uncomfortable because when Eddie grabs The Return of the King off his dresser, he returns to the bed even closer than before.

His arm touches yours as he lies back on the bed, and you can’t take your mind off of it. It gently moves against yours as he turns the page.

“Now, where were we?” he says as the sound of pages turning fills the room. “Aha, here it is.” His smile is audible in his words. “You’ll like this part.”

Eddie begins to read. His voice is like honey, sweet and soothing to your ears. He makes you giggle occasionally with his exaggerated voices for certain characters. His laughter matches your own, and even though he’s read this book a hundred times, it feels like he’s experiencing it for the first time with you.

As he continues, there’s a subtle change in his tone that you can’t quite place until you listen closely to the words. Two characters in the book kiss, and the way Eddie reads the description makes your stomach flutter more than the romance he’s narrating. You feel your cheeks heat up and lower your head to your arms to hide it.

Eddie chuckles softly, saying your name, “Are you blushing?”

“No!”

You bury your face deeper into your arms, breathing in his scent from the sheets. You would give anything to sink into the mattress, completely enveloped by his smell.

He calls your name again, clearly amused by your reaction. His fingers find your sides and he starts tickling you, forcing you out of hiding. You burst into laughter, trying to grab his hands to push him away, but your laughter only encourages him.

“Look at you. You’re so red you might pop,” he teases, continuing to tickle you.

“Stop,” you manage to say between fits of laughter.

You struggle to fight back, and Eddie laughs at your attempts. Your stomach begins to hurt from the laughter, your breathing becomes ragged, and your hair covers your face from the tussle.

Both of you finally give up, gasping for air. Eddie plops down beside you, the weight of his body next to yours so familiar that you long for it when you’re alone in your own bed.

“I’ve never seen you blush that hard before,” he says, amused.

You can feel his stare, which only makes you blush more. “Can you stop?” you groan, playfully shoving his arm.

“Stop what?”

“Staring at me. I can feel it.”

He scoffs, “I’m not staring at you.”

You sit up and demand his bandana. He protests in confusion, but once he understands, he relents. Sitting up directly in front of you, you lift your chin with a sense of victory.

“Because I don’t believe you, this is what I must do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh, pretending to be exasperated though he’s smiling like a fool. “If this pleases you.”

You ignore the flutter in your stomach at his words. Reaching out, your fingertips touch the corner of his mouth, feeling it curve up against your touch. His face is smooth, and you take advantage of the moment to trace your fingers across it, finding their way to his hair. He remains silent, but his breathing is slightly heavier—something only you would notice.

His hair is soft, and you resist the urge to twirl his curls around your finger. Instead, you wrap the bandana around his eyes and tie it tightly behind his head.

“Oh,” he says with surprise, followed by a chuckle. “A little tight, huh?”

“Can’t have you peeking.”

“Don’t you trust me?” he asks.

Your hands drop into your lap as you smile. “Mm, I’m still deciding.”

But that was a lie. You trusted him more than you cared to admit. There were many people you trusted to be alone with, but as you’ve spent time with him, he’s proven that you’re safe with him. The best feeling is being completely vulnerable and knowing without a doubt that the person you count on with your vulnerability handles it with care.

“So, this is what it’s like for you?” he asks softly.

“Something like that.”

The room is silent, the radio off since before he started reading the book you’ve both abandoned. The only sounds are his breathing and the soft hum of the air conditioning. But you notice the parting of his lips and the sudden, yet soft, intake of breath as if he were going to say something but decided not to.

“What is it?” you ask.

He clears his throat as if caught and takes a breath. “Can you…touch me?” You’re nearly taken back by that until he speaks up in a rushed sentence. “Uh, sorry, I —uh, I mean, my arm or face. Show me how it feels for you.”

Your heart warms at his request. And you gladly give him what he wants. Your fingers meet his face again and you admire all the softness. You trace the lines and curves, imagining if he’s as beautiful as he feels. Eddie sits there still for a while, softly breathing.

Then his hands grasp your wrists and lower them to your lap. “My turn,” he says as his fingers begin to move up your arms. Goosebumps break out over your skin, and you try your best to control your breathing, knowing he can hear if it catches in your throat.

His calloused fingers brush against your soft skin, but you don’t mind. One hand drops from your arm and takes hold of one of your hands. You fight back a smile, knowing his fingers tracing your features are close enough to feel your reaction. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against your cheekbone. It feels incredibly intimate, just the sound of his breathing matching yours as time seems to slow.

He breaks the silence. “You’re so beautiful.”

A smile breaks out on your face. “You can’t even see me.”

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you look like.” His tone is serious yet soft, almost as if he’s in deep thought.

He lets go of your hand and cups your other cheek. Your face fits perfectly between his warm hands.

“Eddie…” you say, wanting to ask what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. But your words fall short as you feel his thumb brush over your bottom lip.

“Tell me you feel this.”

He doesn’t mean his gentle touch on your lips, and you know that. The electrical current between you two could light up Hawkins. He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his chest. Your breath catches at the feeling of his heart thumping wildly against your palm. It’s so strong that you think it might burst out of his chest and right into your hands.

“Yes,” you answer him.

“Tell me I can kiss you.”

Your stomach flutters so fast that you feel like you could float away. “Yes.”

There is a moment of stillness in the room, time frozen. The sound of you both breathing dulls out and you lose feeling in your cheeks at his touch as you await his lips on yours.

He’s so gentle and slow. His lips meet yours and you welcome it, nearly melting into him. The kisses are soft and lazy, as if you both are drunk off each other. Your hands are in his hair and he moans at the feeling. Heat forms in your lower belly and you can’t help yourself when you crawl into his lap.

“Yes,” he breathes as he welcomes you into his embrace. His arms wrapping tightly around your back, rubbing his hands up and down your back while still kissing you.

His tongue brushes your lower lip and you open your mouth to taste him. He’s perfect. He’s all you feel and taste, nearly drowning in him. His bandana is still tightly secured around his eyes and you wonder if he’s consumed by you as well.

Eddie starts kissing your neck and your head drops to the side in pleasure. His hand wraps around your head, keeping you in place as he begins to suck softly in the right spot. You moan and you feel his smile against your skin.

“There it is,” he mumbles, before finding your lips again. “Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

“Stop.” You mutter against his kiss, fighting back a smile. Your cheeks turn hot and you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten around you and you sink further into his arms. You both stay like that for a few minutes, resting in each other's arms. You feel him inhale you deeply before he starts stroking your hair.

“You may not realize how beautiful you are,” he says as he begins to play with your hair. “But, I don’t mind reminding you every day.”

“Would you?” You whisper.

“I’ll take your hand, tell you in great detail about the world around us while reminding you how it doesn’t even compare to you.” He kisses your shoulder. “Not even close.”

The smile that spreads across your face is almost painful. “You have such a way with words.”

He takes your face in his hands, “I do write songs, sweetheart.”

With that, he kisses you with such passion that you fall back onto the mattress, giggles spilling from your lips as Eddie turns your darkness into light.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff

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saekkas · 1 year ago

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𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔

summary: michael kaiser is a coward who needs a little incentive to finally confess his feelings towards you.

tags: f!reader, roommates to lovers, fluff, falling in love, kissing (more like, making out), jealousy, mutual pinning, possessive kaiser.

wc: 1.7k

notes: i do not know what possessed me into writing this, but man, it needs to do it again.

something you've realized early on in your friendship with kaiser is that he's a coward.

he hates spiders, makes you throw the trash out at night, and screams whenever something falls out of its place because he thinks the apartment is haunted.

in the year that you've spent as his roommate, you've come to terms with it. he's nice, cleans his dishes, and helps with the laundry. he keeps the noise down to a minimum and cooks you breakfast when he isn't preoccupied with practice.

another perk of living with him is the fact that he buys you things, expensive things. perfume. flowers. the dress you were eyeing online. your favorite snacks. a limited edition plushy you've been wanting since forever.

anything.

you realized early on that michael kaiser is rude to other people, scoffing and smirking as if he's above everyone else. he mutters comments about them under his breath, thinking you can't hear. he bosses people around, looking at them like they're ants. a waste of his time.

he isn't like that with you.

for one, he's sweet. if the gift giving isn't enough, he goes out of his way to seek you out after his matches. he asks for massages, for small pecks and fleeting touches. he video calls you when he's away, never forgetting to wish you a good morning and sweet dreams through voice notes. all with a grin on his lips.

you aren't blind. you know those are his ways of expressing affection. you just wish he'd finally man up and admit his feelings.

"so, how was the date?"

kaiser's sitting on the couch of your living room, remote control in hand as he stares at the tv, some random soccer match showing across the screen. his hair is wet, and he's got his glasses on. his posture is relaxed, seemingly nonchalant as he asks the question.

you know him enough to see him gritting his teeth even through his bored expression.

"good evening to you too," you laugh, airy as you take off your heels. putting them next to the door, you drop your keys in the sage bowl, letting them clink against his. "have dinner yet?"

leaning against the door, you can see the fine lines of his shoulder tense. the kaiser you're used to is a show pony, the person sitting on your couch isn't. he almost looks like a stranger with his neutral expression and bored eyes. such a difference to the guy who usually comes running whenever you walk through the entrance.

"i ordered takeout." he motions to the plates littered around him, pointing at the fridge. "i saved you some of your favorites."

internally, you flutter. happy to know that the kaiser you know, and love, isn't completely gone.

"thank you, that's very sweet of you."

he's adamant on keeping his eyes off you and on the screen, his shoulders becoming even more tense as you open your arms wide.

"no hug for today?" there's a hopeful smile on your lips as you say the words. happy to finally have everything the way they should be.

only to be shut down with a single side eye from him.

"what?" he asks lowly, almost conceding in his words. almost like your presence bothers him, like all those other people do. like you aren't special to him anymore. "did your date dump you? and now you're looking to me for comfort?"

the words are icy, and he gives no room for rebuttals. not when he looks at you with a quirked eyebrow and a cocky smirk.

it's the first time he's used his persona on you. one he uses to hide away from the world. you decide that you hate it.

"no. actually, he was sweet," you bite back, glaring when you decide that enough is enough. "asked to hold my hand and carry me on his back."

you watch as his face darkens, his eyes clouding over until you can't recognize the pretty blue color they usually spark in. you're riling him up, making him angry. and it's working.

"why? jealous?"

it's the question you've been dying to ask for months now. he flirts like you're more than friends, buys you gifts like you're something special to him, shuts down every time you go on a date with someone that isn't him.

but when it comes down to it, you not his to have. not when he's too much of a coward to do anything about it.

"and if i am?" his words surprise you. it's the first time he's come close to revealing his true feelings in months. they're said with an underlying tone of anger, jealousy, and possessiveness. like you're already his and no one else's. "what's it to you?"

"oh, you know, just happy you're finally being a man and talking about your feelings."

you shouldn't have said that. with the way his eyes are practically glaring, you don't know what else to say. you look up when he stands, practically looming as he stalks to you.

"you're so-"

his words are interrupted by his cursing. he glares down at you, pushing his hand next to your head, pining you against the door. you gulp, watching as he practically shakes in anger.

"du machst mich wahnsinnig, liebling. ich glaube nicht, dass ich mich zurückhalten kann, wenn du weiterhin so eine göre bist."

translation: you're driving me mad, darling. i don't think i can hold back if you continue to be such a brat.

"he even asked to kiss me too," you say, your voice trembling under his dark gaze. your sweet and funny roommate is gone, replaced by the man you see in front of you. your heart is pounding against your chest, in both fear and excitement for what he'll do when you finally push him off the edge. "he-"

kaiser surges down, cutting your sentence off with a kiss.

your eyes widen when your head hits the door from his force. a shiver running down your spine when he lifts a hand, placing it on the back of your head, gently caressing the area. closing your eyes, you wrap your arms around his shoulder, kissing him back with just as much fervor.

he relaxes at that, pulling back slightly only to swoop back in, keeping you in his arms for as long as he wants. by the time he finally breaks the kiss, you're both leaning against each other.

you've never seen his eyes as happy as they are now.

"ich bin mir sicher, dass ich besser küsse als er," he says, smug as he takes in the way you're panting. he chuckles, placing his hands on the side of your neck to pull you into another kiss. "richtig, liebling?"

translation: i'm sure i kiss better than he does. right, darling?

"i don't know what you're saying but yes. okay. sure." you nod, head still hazy as his hands start to stroke your cheek. "if it's something bad, then no."

he chuckles, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips. he keeps you rooted in your spot, his eyes darting back between your eyes and your lips. "you're mine now, yeah? no one else gets to kiss you the way i did."

"about time," you say with a roll of your eyes when your breathing finally settles. you play with the hair around his shoulder, slightly tugging at the strands. "it went awful, by the way. he made me walk 3 kilometers because his car broke down."

his hands stop, freezing as he looks at you incredulously. "but you said-"

"i lied," you say with a cheeky grin. you lift yourself onto your tiptoes, placing a kiss on his cheek as an apology. "just wanted to see how you'd react."

you giggle when he groans, letting him settle in the crook of your neck. "you little minx. next time, call me. i'll pick you up and drop you off."

there's the kaiser you know and love.

"mihya." the nickname is odd on your lips, new and completely unrefined. you watch as he perks up, his eyes practically shining as he looks down at you. guess you'll just have to use the nickname on him more often from now on. "you're a terrible driver. you'd be picking me up at the mall and dropping us off at the gates of heaven."

"well, at least that means an angel will finally return home."

you smack his shoulder for that.

bonus:

you're walking down the stairs of your university a few weeks later, laughing at something your friend said when the sound of squealing fills your ears.

a sleek black lamborghini sits right in front of you.

you blink, taking in the over-the-top showcase before your eyes land on the figure right beside it. you snort as kaiser winks at you from his spot, still taking his time to soak up the limelight.

"did you have to come all the way here to be a showoff?" you greet him with a kiss to his cheek that kaiser visibly grins at.

ever since getting together, he's been hogging you all to himself. he insists on driving you to and from wherever you need because your time together is worth everything to him. "you are so petty. making sure no one even thinks of asking me out on another date?"

"you like it." the way he says it is breathless, like it's a secret he's been keeping to himself for a long time. "you like me."

who knew michael kaiser turned out to be such a corny romantic?

you snort, tugging him into the car before he makes any more of a scene. "i do."

he grins at that, revving the engine as loud as he can, smirking when a group of freshmen cheer and wave to him from behind the car.

"good." he takes your hand, placing a kiss on the knuckles. he holds it as he backs out of the university and into the open street. "be prepared because i'm about to spoil you even more."

#blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser imagines #kaiser x reader #kaiser imagines #michael kaiser fluff #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #bllk x female reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x female reader #blue lock x y/n #kaiser fluff

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kelstey · 10 months ago

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who did this to you?

mattheo riddle x reader

warnings : domestic abuse, mentions of disordered eating, toxic relationship (not with mattheo)

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

"gosh, will you hurry up?" cormac paced back and forth in your dorm as you were getting ready.

"i'm trying," you said trying to control your tears. you quickly set your foundation which was heavily packed on, covering the yellowing bruise underneath.

"fucking finally," he groaned. you got up and placed your robe on before the two of you walked down to the great hall for breakfast. thankfully it was the weekend so you could avoid as many people as possible.

you had tried getting out of the relationship, but he always gaslit and guilt tripped you into coming back. cormac had essentially isolated you from 90% of your friends and anyone you ever came into contact with.

he knew what he was doing, he was limiting your options of people to go to by making you out to be a bad person when you were secretly getting abused physically and mentally by cormac.

at first, he was the sweetest boy you had ever met. you thought you had met the love of your life - the man you would marry. you were terribly

wrong.

as soon as he had you wrapped around his finger, he switched. he constantly picked apart your appearance, belittling you and leaving you with minimal confidence.

he once accidentally slapped you during an argument, he told you he would never do it again. he lied.

at first your friends were concerned, they tried helping you, but cormac threatened you that if you told them, he'd hurt you. you were already hurting enough and you didn't think it was worth the risk.

soon rumours made their way around school that you talked shit about your friends, leading many of your friendships to end. you didn't know it was cormac who has behind all of it.

you spotted matthe staring at you already as you walked into the hall. you absolutely hated him - not for anything in particular, the two of you just never got along and have disliked each other since.

you sat down next to cormac as usual. a plate appeared in front of you, and you began to put bits of breakfast onto the plate. "remember to watch what you eat," he dug a hand into your thigh which caused you to lightly whimper as his nails etched into your skin.

"yes," you looked down at the plate, hardly enough for a baby yet alone a growing teenage girl. you began eating some fruit - filling yet good and cormac always appreciated you eating

'healthy' even though you couldn't give a fuck less what he liked, you would eat whatever when you were alone without him.

you finished and gazed around the hall, your eyes landing onto mattheos again. you sent him daggers, and he rolled his eyes before speaking to his friends.

"i need to go to the bathroom," you leaned into cormac's side. he nodded and you left the hall.

you walked down the hall and to the girl's bathroom, you looked into the mirror, noticing your makeup was slightly smudged and you could see the bruising.

"shit," you panicked, you looked through your bag for some powder and concealer, oblivious to mattheo who just entered the bathroom.

"who did this to you?" you heard a voice say and you jumped, dropping your concealer.

"fucking hell mattheo, do you know how expensive that shit is?" you picked up the concealer, forgetting momentarily about the clear bruise on your face.

"answer the question. who did this to you?" he took a step closer to you.

"no one," you said, it was hardly above a whisper though. you could feel tears well up in your eyes as mattheo observed your face.

"i'll fucking kill him," without a second to spare mattheo turned around and made his way back to the hall.

you followed, quick on his trail. "mattheo, please, don't," you tried to grab onto his arm.

"no - he fucking hurt you! why should he get away with that?!" mattheo was clearly angry, both at himself and cormac.

you didn't say anything and let go of his arm, looking down at the ground. you wanted mattheo to batter the shit out of cormac, but some part of you didn't want to see the guy you were dating get punched to death.

"i'll keep you safe," mattheo's hand reached for your chin, pushing it up slightly so you were looking up at him. "i won't let anyone ever hurt you again."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

#mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin #slytherin boys #fanfic

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latin5mamii · 2 months ago

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Angel - Jude Bellingham

warnings: suggestive but not smut (not yet😔) (1,018 words)

genre: childhood best friends to lovers

summary:How could you know that a stupid nickname could change everything?

author's note: I know, I’ve left you hanging with the suspense again, but I promise I’m already working on the next chapter! If you have any plot twist suggestions, I’d love to hear them🤍. I’m currently working on this serie, plus two one-shots ( kyky and judey). I’ll be publishing them asap. Enjoy and let me know if you like where this is going🤍! last chapter

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

Of course, you hadn’t forgotten the kiss—or rather, the kisses—from that morning. The memory was still as vivid as if it had happened mere hours ago. Those lips on yours, the warmth of his body so close, the intensity in his eyes that seemed to pierce right through you, it was all too real, too vivid to let go. That memory is what keeps you awake at night, tossing and turning with thoughts too tangled to bring you peace.

Even now, as you sit next to him in the car, the soft lights from the street illuminating his face, you can't help but think about it. How could you not, when his presence is a constant reminder of every detail from that morning?

The door closes behind you, his body still close to yours. The drive back had been silent, yet the tension between you had only grown, twisting into a knot of anxiety in your stomach.

If you hadn’t felt the touch of his lips on yours, would you still crave him as much as you do now?

He's still behind you, and every fiber of your being wants to turn around, to see what will happen next. But you’re scared—scared of what? Let’s be honest, you can’t be afraid of ruining your friendship because that’s already happened. It happened the moment you saw each other again after so long, even before that kiss. Are you afraid that if you cross that line, there’ll be no going back? Probably.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now,” his words from earlier echo in your mind. But that’s exactly what you’re doing. And you hate yourself for it.

"Angel." His voice startles you, breaking the silence that had grown heavy, almost suffocating. His voice, so soft yet somehow deep and commanding, and that accent—God.

"You’re thinking about something," he says, placing a hand on your shoulder.You can feel the heat of his touch seeping through your clothes, and it makes your heart race even faster. You want to say something, to break the tension that has been building between you, but the words are stuck in your throat.

“I’m not.” The words slip out before you can stop them, and you instantly regret it.

Jude raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Are you sure?”

You nod shyly, unable to meet his eyes, and you can feel your face heating up.

"Alright then," he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. He steps back, turning away from you, and starts walking toward the hallway.

Your heart drops as you watch him go. “Where are you going?” you blurt out, the question escaping before you can think it through.

He pauses, glancing back at you with that same teasing smirk. “I’m going to bed,” he says casually, as if nothing’s out of the ordinary. “Why? You wanna come?”

Your breath catches, and you feel your pulse quicken at the implication in his words. Jude’s eyes lock onto yours, the playful gleam in them making it impossible to look away.

For a moment, you’re both frozen in place, the air thick with the tension that’s been building all evening. You don’t know how to respond, torn between the pull of his offer and the fear of what it might mean if you accept.

“What happens if I say yes?” The words slip out before you can stop them, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jude’s smirk deepens, and he takes a step closer, his presence overwhelming. “Why don’t you find out?” he murmurs, the challenge hanging in the air between you.

And then, without waiting for a response, he turns and walks away, his footsteps echoing softly as he heads down the hallway. He doesn’t look back, leaving you standing there, alone with your thoughts and the heavy silence he’s left behind.

The weight of the decision presses down on you as you watch him disappear into his room. The door doesn’t close all the way, left slightly ajar, as if to give you the option. It’s an invitation, one that sets your mind spinning.

The door to Jude’s room remains slightly ajar, leaving you with an open invitation. You stand there for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on you, as if the silence in the house has taken on a tangible form. The thought of following him is both thrilling and terrifying.

With a deep breath, you turn away from the hallway and head to your own room. You need to distract yourself, to process what just happened. You change into comfortable clothes, trying to calm the racing thoughts in your mind, but the image of Jude’s smirk and the intensity of his eyes won’t leave you.

Lying in bed, you stare up at the ceiling, replaying the evening’s events over and over. You think about that morning, the kisses that still linger in your memory, the way his touch made you feel. And now, his invitation, something that you both want and deny.

As the minutes tick by, the tension grows unbearable. You toss and turn, unable to find a comfortable position. Should you go to him?

But you can’t take it any longer. You slip out of bed, your heart pounding with every step you take towards Jude’s room. You walk down the hallway, the quiet of the house almost amplifying your nervousness. When you reach his door, you take another deep breath and push it open.

The room’s dimly lit, his shadow reflecting on the wall. He’s lying in bed, propped up on his elbows, watching you move towards him. The sight of him there, so relaxed, only heightens your anxiety.

You move cautiously towards the bed,a soft smile playing on your lips. When you finally sit down, you can feel the mattress shift under your weight, and Jude’s eyes follow your every movement.

“I knew you’d show up,” he says. You don’t turn to face him, but you can almost picture the smirk on his lips. To him, you were an open book, and he was always one page ahead.

“What are you scared about?” He shifts closer, the space between you diminishing with each movement.

You look at him, your breath catching in your throat. “I’m not scared,” you reply, though your voice betrays you, quivering slightly.

Jude’s gaze remains locked on yours, the playful glint in his eyes giving way to something more intense. “Then why are you hesitating?” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. The touch sends a shiver down your spine.

You can feel the heat from his body, the way his breath mingles with yours, each movement bringing you closer to a precipice you’re not sure you’re ready to cross.

“Maybe I’m just not sure what comes next,” you admit, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Jude’s lips curve into a knowing smile, and he leans in, his face dangerously close to yours. “Let’s find out,” he says softly. “Let’s see who falls first, yeah?”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

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ophelieverse · 8 months ago

Note

Oppy my baby,can you please please please take in consideration to write something about my man Cregan Stark?🥺🥺

⊹˚₊only you could have called me back home

Cregan Stark x fem!reader

-Summary:reader is from house Manderly and she meets Cregan when they are kids,during his stay at her house she reads him a book about mermaids to help him sleep during a storm.Years later he does the same thing for their children.

-I finally gave in and decided to try.This is the first time that I write for Cregan,even though i love him very much and i can’t wait to see him(I pictured in my mind Tom Taylor)so forgive me if this sucks.

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It was night,late evening.

The sky,which was usually a dark blue,was covered by a thick blanket of gray clouds that made the stars and that moon disappear,which were supposed to illuminate New Castle of White Harbor.The blue blazon with the green merman holding a trident,symbolizing House Manderly,was dancing in the wind.

A little girl,who seemed to be not older than eight years old,was observing the world and that summer storm,one of many she had seen in just a month.Sitting in her chamber,on the carpet in front of the window that brought into that small balcony,curled up and with her arms hugging her legs,she let her eyes get lost in counting the thousands of droplets that rested on that sheet of glass.

She began to stare at a drop of rain,trying to see it flow along the entire length of the window.But this one soon disappeared,bursting into smaller droplets or joining others.

For Lady Y/n Manderly,the rain made everything so fascinating.

She came closer to the glass,almost squashing her face against the door-windows and waiting for a thunder to arrive.She had never been afraid of thunderstorms,quite the contrary.She found them fascinating.She still couldn't conceive that all that noise and lights came from nature and not from something created by men.

Watching a thunderstorm was more interesting than reading a book.Her mother used to read her dozen of them to help her sleep at night,especially during storms like this one.But at the end,the books in their library all looked alike and never change final.If she didn't want to read them anymore she could just close them.While thunderstorms are unexpected and uncontrollable.But above all,always different.

People can never predict the duration or intensity of a thunderstorm.You can just try to guess or stay and observe it.And Y/n loved to see thunderstorms.

But that wasn't the case for everyone.

The little girl knew for sure that there was someone who instead hated them and had a big fear of them.A young boy,just of two years older than she was,the son of the protector of the North,had revealed that he was very afraid of storms during one.

Lord Rickon Stark had arrived to White Harbor four nights before,just in time for dinner,to discuss with Lord Desmond Manderly,Y/n father,about the union of their houses.A calm but still noisy storm was what welcomed them,alongside the blue and green blazon of New Castle.

Y/n didn't understand what was scary about those lights and noises,but she couldn't help but think about what the boy was feeling at the time.

That boy who was also her husband to be once they would be old enough to marry.They already knew each other,they had met in different occasions and places,yet they had never forged a particular bond or friendship.

Their characters were particularly different and they both knew that they would find themselves colliding easily if they became friends.Moreover, there had never been a particular opportunity to get to know each other better.They were always surrounded by their families,politicians and maidens.

They were simply two children,two heirs of big and powerful houses and one day they will become husband and wife.Nothing more,nothing less.

And yet,at that moment Y/n was just thinking.She was just thinking about Cregan.That was his name and what he had told her to call him when she had addressed him as “Lord Stark�� with a polite bow.

Y/n wondered if he wasn't scared.

She remembered once,when there was a tournament in Lannisport,he didn’t showed up to see the horses in the morning when it started to rain.Once again,during a visit a the Wall he had been more restless than usual when he had heard the sound of the thunders.

But didn't the dark sky of the evening emphasize the whole thing even more?

Y/n loved night thunderstorms,she found them even more impressive.But also scary.Especially now that her mother was heavily pregnant and needed to stay in bed to rest,meaning that she couldn’t read her stories to help her sleep better.

In Y/n that fear gave a sudden adrenaline rush,but in Cregan no,she could have said it with certainty.So,after thinking about it for too long,the little girl got up,took the cloak on the chair and without even thinking anymore,she opened the window-door wide and within seconds she found herself on the balcony,while the rain was beginning to increase slowly.

That wing of the castle was where both Y/n and her brothers chambers were,the same place where young Cregan was staying,in the room right next to hers.

Y/n stayed for a while to observe the sky,and the drops of rainwater falling on the palm of her hand that she had turned upwards,fascinated by everything as a child could be.But she hadn't gone out to the balcony to admire all that,no.

If she had only wanted to do that,she would have been content to sit in front of the front door-windows as she had until then,instead of getting wet.

No,Y/n had gone out to check on Cregan.To make sure that he was alright.

Their balconies were connected,divided only by a low wall of light bricks.She had often seen the young boy on that balcony in those days,watching people occupying those crowded streets or just wanting to breathe some air.

And on those occasions they had just waved to each other politely with kind smiles.

Y/n knew that the window on that balcony led to the room where Cregan was staying.

Still in the rain,half protected by the windowsill of the upper floor,she barely reached out her neck to observe the young boy room.But it was dark and the curtains were pulled,a sign that Cregan was probably already sleeping,as he would on any night.

The little Lady wanted to call herself a fool for coming out of her room just to make sure that he was okay,a boy whose she exchanged a few words and nothing else.The same boy that one day would have been her husband but the she didn’t knew nothing about.

Yet,in some way,she was relieved.Relieved that he was not awake yet and afraid of those thunders.

A part of Y/n wanted to go back into her room and go back admiring that storm from behind the glass plate of the window,but first she got closer to the wall that separated her from her neighbor.

To,she said to herself,just to check more closely.Just to make sure.

But check what exactly?

Y/n shook her head.She really had to be out of her mind if now she was worried about an almost - stranger that seemed to not like her at all.She made to retrace her steps,when a curled figure caught her attention.

Sitting on the ground,with his shoulders leaning against the wall of that balcony and with a black cloak on him,he stood with his head hidden by the hood.Still like a statue,with his arms around his legs.Half of his body was protected under the windowsill,while the other half was being wet by that rainwater.

Y/n tilted her head to the side,confused.

“Who is that?And what are they doing?”she wondered.

Even though she knew very well who it was.It couldn't be anyone other than him.

«Cregan?»Y/n spoke without having the slightest control over her voice,attracting the attention of the boy.

Cregan raised his head,which he had kept sunk between his legs until that moment,turning his head then towards the young lady on the other side of the wall.His eyes were usually clear and calm,but now they were wide open with astonishment.

Wide in a way that Y/n couldn't but find adorable.

She ignored these thoughts and just reopened her mouth«What are you doing out here?Don't you see .. ?It's raining.»she asked with a soft tone.

“As if i hadn't noticed,Y/n”Cregan wanted to tell her with a little voice.He wouldn't have put on his cloak if he hadn't seen the rain.

But a part of him decided to keep his mouth closed.Lady Y/n was immensely pretty under the pale moonlight and wet by the rain.He had always been fascinated by her,by the way her eyes shined bright and the way she talked fast about something she liked and knew about.She made him nervous to speak whenever he was around her,she was far smarter and wiser than him even at that young age,always so kind and he was afraid to make a fool out of himself.Especially when he was still scared of thunderstorms.

Cregan didn't answer,just staring at her with his big blue eyes.

«Are you hurt?»Y/n brown furrow as she scanned his pale face to find something.

The rain kept falling and it seemed that its intensity continued to increase as the seconds passed.The trees in front of that castle moved to the right and left,driven by a force they already knew,but which they were still unable to repel.

Cregan shook his head and then spoke«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he just said.

Y/n nodded«I know that.But why are you outside?»she offered him a kind smile.

Cregan seemed to think about it for a while, undecided whether to say everything to her or keep shut up.But there was something in her,something that was pulling in from the inside.Something that was screaming at him to tell her everything that he was afraid of,because with her it would be safe,she would have kept him safe.She would’ve understood him and comforted him.

He chose the second option and returned to stare at an indefinite point of his cloak,hoping that the young lady with wet hair and sweet eyes would soon leave,leaving him alone.As he had only been until recently.

One day Cregan would have been Lord Stark,protector of the great North and he needed to learn to not be afraid of thunderstorms on his own.But Y/n presence,the little girl that would become his wife,was louder than any thunder and brighter than any light.

In fact she had no intention of leaving.

«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he found himself repeating and then adding«I really can't stand them.»he murmured.

She listened to him carefully,standing in front of that little wall,while Cregan continued to turn his back on her and look down as he spoke again:

«I can't sleep when there are thunderstorms.And being alone in the room,in the dark with only sudden flashes to illuminate,is scary.»he explained quietly.

Y/n nodded sympathetically,although she didn't find anything scary at all in his description.But for once she tried to put herself on Cregan side.

«So why don't you go to your father?My mother always makes me sleep with her when I have nightmares.»she asked with curiosity.

Cregan shook his head,clutching in that heavy cloak«He doesn’t want to.He say I have to overcome my fears sooner or later.»he said,with a glint of sadness in his eyes.

Y/n curled her nose,confused«And do you get over them by standing in the rain?»squeezing her hands to create a little bit of warmth.

This time he took some time to respond.

Then,shifting his gaze towards the horizon«It's less scary.I can see the lights of the villages and the boats passing by and I know I'm not the only one awake.I know I'm not alone.»he found himself admitting«It's less scary.Or at least I think…»

He didn't know why he was saying these things.Especially to her.For all his ten almost eleven years he had carried that fear of his with him without saying anything to anyone.Revealing his fear only to himself.And seeking comfort only in him.

A comfort that most of the time was not enough.

His father kept telling him that he was grown up by now,that he had to overcome his fear of thunderstorms by now.A fear that was too childish for his age.For the Lord he was destined to be.How could he protect people when he was the first to be scared?He needed to start acting like a man.

But how adult can a ten year old be?

Without meditating on his words,Y/n replied«And are you going to stay out here all night?Until the thunderstorm stops?»her angel face was worried.

Cregan just nodded,without staring at her directly in the eyes.The little girl made a grimace that the other could not see.It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.Yet she still didn't find the strength to leave him alone.Leave him there alone and go back to her room.

Y/n had felt,she had felt for a few seconds,almost a perceptible thread that drew her to Cregan.Maybe she was just imagining everything. Maybe it was just her childish mind that was playing tricks on her.Or maybe it was just that summer storm fault.

She didn't know,but now she felt tied to the boy with the dark cloak and blue eyes.

«Come.»Y/n voice was firm and warm.

Cregan jolted,surprised to still hear the young girl voice.He thought she had returned to the heat of her room by now.And instead there she is,on the other side of the low wall,reaching out to him with a pure smile on her face.

“She’s cute when she smiles.”Cregan immediately thought,noticing her soft eyes and all her teeth shining in the light of the torches in the street.

He also found her so reassuring.That kind of safety that he desperately needed.

«Where?»he asked confused.

Y/n smiled at him again,getting closer and reaching out her hand again,almost touching his face making him shiver.

«If you spend the night out here you're going to get sick.If you don't want to be alone,I'll keep you company.»she stated fiercely and he knew nothing would’ve changed her mind.

They were simple words.Words of a child of eight,almost nine,years old.Yet Cregan swore he had never heard such beautiful words.No one had ever given him such attention and didn't know whether or not to trust that young lady.

They had met numerous times and now they were even betrothed to each other,but they weren’t exactly friends.

And Cregan was very skeptical to those he knew very little.Especially the ones that made him feel nervous just by looking at him.

He decided to refuse Y/n invitation.

But when he made to decline the offer,the first of many flashes lit up the sky,followed by a noise so loud that raised Cregan hair,or more commonly called thunder.

The boy snapped to his feet in fear.Perhaps the idea of going out,so as not to stay in the dark of his room,had not been the best.Or maybe it was the worst idea that had ever occurred to him and only now did he find it stupid.

«So?Are you coming or not?»Y/n called for his attention again,noting the thin veil of blush on his pale cheeks.

She was younger than him by only two years,yet she was still more mature than him.She had this aura surrounding her,of someone that would have took care of him.Someone he could really start to trust and lay down his strength.A little sun,personal and only for him,to remind him that the storms he was so afraid of were only temporary while she would have been by his side forever.

Cregan found himself shaking Y/n hand,who helped him climb over the wall that divided them, and in a moment he was on the other balcony.

He crossed his eyes again with those of his future wife,who immediately answered him with another sweet smile and opened the window door,to let him enter in the warmth of her room and protect him from that storm.

Immediately closed the door behind them and,after a moment of uncertainty she spoke first«Give me your cloak,i’ll put it here with mine so that tomorrow the servants can wash them.»she told him,taking her off to remain in her pink nightgown.

Cregan blushed even more as he nodded as if in a trance and took off his dark cloak,handing it over to her and revealing a pastel-colored pajamas.

He thought it was impossible for a room to look like it owner,but Y/n bedroom was just like her:a mess of colors,books everywhere and with a pleasant warmth that made him feel safe.

«Why are you still awake?»Cregan suddenly asked,trying to not move around too much.

The little girl took two pillows from her bed and a blanket,walking to the fluffy carpet in front of the old fireplace that the servants had lighted up before she went to bed,once the thunderstorm had started.

«I like to watch the storms.»she said,patting the empty space next to her with one hand«Also,now that my mother is pregnant and my father stays up with his advisors,i need to check on her.»she continues.

Cregan looked at her carefully,the long hair falling free on her shoulders,her perfect face.He was right,she so much mature than he was,already taking care of everyone around her at such a young age,just like a proper lady should.

As he took place next to her on the pavement,still keeping a proper distance between them,Cregan realized that he didn't know anything about her.But he knew how much she loved her mother as he always saw the two of them holding hands.He didn't know if she had the same relationship with her father,who seemed to prefer her older brothers,but he still didn't have enough closeness to ask her for more information.

In fact,they had absolutely no closeness and it could be seen in the silence that fell between the two children.One of those silences that always arise in similar situations,when two people don't know each other but have to spend time together.

«Would you like to do something?»Y/n calm voice sounded even more melodious up close.

She tried to mask that awkwardness with a polite tone,asking her guest with a kind expression.

Cregan spoke little and for the rest of the time he just agreed or disagreed on a certain statement.

The younger of the two was shrinking her minds to think of some kind of game to play together, but the boy next to her would just stare at her,frowning,as if he was annoyed by that situation,while standing close to window of that room like he wanted to escape that situation.

Y/n curled her nose,bored by that sudden superior attitude that Cregan was carrying on himself.

«Look,you can still go back in the rain if you prefer.»she told him,with a sour tone.

She felt bad to see him frightened by that thunderstorm,but if he didn't even show her a minimum of gratitude or a spirit of collaboration, then he could very well leave.Y/n was a sunny child,always with a smile on her face and ready to raise the morale of anyone who needed it.

But“This boy is really unpleasant”she thought.

Cregan crossed his arms to his chest,squeezing his eyes and staring at her,offended and angry at the same time.He thought that he shouldn’t have accepted her invitation and that both their fathers had made a mistake by promising them.They would never get along.

He could very well go back to his room and overcome that storm on his own,as he had always done until then.He didn’t need Y/n help.He made a grimace in the direction of the little girl,who responded to the gesture by raising her eyes to the sky.

But when he was about to open the window door and return to his room,without his dark cloak,a flash illuminated the sky and his face.

Cregan eyes went wide,as he was falling backwards and ending up on the ground on his butt as he waited for the arrival of the thunder that did not take long to arrive.His lower lip trembled,while he couldn't move any muscle.

He hated how thunderstorms could do this to him.He hated how they could make him tremble and frighten.

“They are a normal thing,dictated by nature”his father had always told him.

Yet Cregan didn't believe it.He continued to hate thunderstorms.

And something told him that this fear of his would never go away.

«Cregan.... are you all right?»he heard a soft voice behind his back.

Cregan looked up and saw Y/n standing on her knees on the carpet and he only remembered at that moment of her presence.

The boy gasped,looking for an answer.But before he could speak,another flash lit up the room,and before the thunder could be heard,Cregan had already put his hands on his ears.

The arrogant facade,which he had previously put on,had now completely crumbled, revealing his insecure and frightened side.

Y/n didn't know what to do.

The annoyed face she had a little while ago,was gone.Now she was really worried for him.She just wanted to find a way to distract him,and to put an end to that clash of lights that illuminated the room.

Cregan did not move,with his head resting on his bent knees,and the palms of his hands were still covering his ears,in the vain hope of not hearing that almost metallic and shackled noises.

«It’s alright,don't worry.»Y/n tried to reassure him.But it seemed that no one could move the young boy.

«They usually just make a big noise and then they go away.»she continued with a reassuring voice getting closer to him.

But Cregan was still shaking, scared,and Y/n didn't know what to do.She was never scared of thunderstorms.She would have liked to hold him tight in a hug,to drive away all his fear.But she knew that if she did,she would only make things worse.

In the meantime,Cregan continued to make himself small,smaller and smaller,curled up almost on himself on that light pavement.

«I mean…deep down it's just water,isn't it?Water and lights.As if it were an ocean... and the oceans are beautiful,aren't they,Cregan?»she asked with a hint of hope.

Y/n was used to the water,she lived near the sea and she had grew up running up and down on her fathers boats with her brothers.Her mothers read her stories about fishes,sailors,mermen and mermaids.

And while he did not respond,too busy controlling his fear,Y/n came up with an idea.

«I know what to do!»she almost screamed,catching Cregan attention and shicking around the room,as if looking for something.

The boy looked at her confused,forgetting – but only for a short time – of the thunderstorm.

«There you are.»Y/n exhaled,almost relieved.

Cregan blinked,observing the more confusion she had created throughout that room,the books scattered on the floor and the cabinets wide open,just for that medium-sized old book she now held in her hands,with a proud and satisfied smile.He didn't understand what use that book could have,but he didn't breathe,limiting himself to observing the young girl sitting carefully next to him and opening it.

And then millions of billions of fishes began to swim between the old pages.Cregan mouth widened into an “o”, but he quickly closed it again before Y/n could notice his astonishment.It's just a very simple book of fairy tales,he said to himself.

Yet,in some way,it had distracted him.

«If you lie down on the bed,you can see them better.»Y/n spoke,making herself comfortable on her bed and starting to turning the pages.

Cregan grimaced,watching how she was smiling.That wasn’t proper.

«Why should I lie down-»yet another thunder«Alright... I lie down.»he immediately changed his mind.

He hurriedly took the steps that separated him from that bed,before sinking into the lavander sheets that smelled of flowers and vanilla.

Y/n by his side smiled at him.But Cregan didn’t,remaining impassive and jolting at every thunder.She closed the curtains around her bad,only the soft light of the candle on the nightstand remain.The 'lightning' factor had been solved.

«They're beautiful,aren’t they?»she said,tracing with her fingers the different fishes.

They were.Their shapes,colors,sizes were mesmerizing.

Cregan didn't know to answer again.Those bright,fishes seemed to moved quickly on all those pages in a continuous flow.They were simple,so damn simple,yet they had caught the his attention.

«Yes,they ar–»he tried to agree with her,but here's yet another thunder made him jump out of fear.

Y/n by his side watched him close his eyes and plug his ears with both hands.

She had to find a way to distract him from the sounds too.

«You see him?»she turned the page and pointed to a strange figure on the right corner.

A man with a tail of a fish.

Cregan turned to her,taking his hands off his ears and moving his eyes on what Y/n finger was pointing to.

«It’s a merman?»he sounded uncertain,the figure on the book looked like the blazon of house Manderly.

Y/n nodded her head confirming his question«They said that he loved another mermaid and when the pirates had captured her,driven by grief,he turned his body in marble creating White Harbor.»she explained him,showing him another picture of the place where now she was living.

Cregan looked confused,his eyebrows raising«Why would he do that?»

The girl next to him sighed,her shoulder touching his,the sweet perfume of her hair was tickling his nose.She was warm and soft and made his stomach twist and his hands sweat.

«I guess that he couldn’t live without her and preferred to die.»she simply answered«Years ago i used to cry when my mother read me this story.»she continued as she flipped the page.

In the dim light,he could see that her eyes were a little glassy and only now he remembered that just like him,she was still a child with fears like him and stories that made her cry in her mother arms.

«How about her?»Cregan eyes and hand went to point to a female picture.

A mermaid with a red tale and long wet red hair on her shoulders,sitting on a rock near the coast.Her beautiful expression seemed pained,her mouth opened as if she was saying something.In the distance seemed that a storm was coming,the waves crashing into the shore,dark clouds on the horizon.

Y/n smiled,stretching the book out to him so that he could take a better look«She was a princess that fell in love with a sailor.Her father,the King of the fourteen seas had forbidden their love.»she started to explain with a soft tone«They could see each other only on the beginning of the Long Summer,when her father was away in the ocean»she said.

Cregan yawned«And how did they knew when the Long Summer came?»he seemed genuinely interested now.

«The storm.»Y/n quickly answered«It was her way to let him know that she was waiting for him.She was calling him back to her.»in her expression he could find a hint of teasing.

He shuddered,the thing that scared him the most,for this children book,was just a mermaid calling for her lover.

«But how does he know?»he asked again and his voice was becoming softer,his eyes closing a bit,yet he stayed very curious about the story.

«Does he know what?»Y/n whispered.

«That it was her.»he continued.

«Because he had loved no else but her in his life.Only her could have called him back home.»she explained and he swore he could’ve seen her eyes shine bright.

«I hate her father.»Cregan mumbled.

He found it stupid,it was just a fairy tale to help people sleep,but if the mermaid father didn’t get in the way tonight he would’ve been scared.And that’s also must had been the reason why she wasn’t afraid of them.

Y/n giggles made him blush,as she shook a little onto him«But you know what’s the best part of it?For the rest of the summer there wouldn’t be any other storms,just the bright sun as the two of them could be together.»she whispered.

It was a way to say that after every thunderstorm that would’ve been the sun.Always.

«Wasn’t she scared of her father founding out that they were still together?»his voice was sleepy and his eyes heavy.

Y/n shook her head«Love is stronger than fear.»she stated«Don’t you find it beautiful?»she said then,a dreamy look in her eyes.

There was no answer.

Y/n turned to him,finding him with his eyes closed and his mouth half-open.His chest would rise and fall at a regular pace,while his slight breathing could be heard.She smiled at that sight as she stroked his hair.

Cregan had fallen asleep.Y/n was satisfied.Satisfied and happy.

She succeeded in her intent,help him and distract him from the thing that scared him the most.She wondered what Cregan would do at this time if Y/n hadn’t invited him?

He would probably still have been awake.Because the thunderstorm hadn't stopped,no,it had never stopped.The mermaid was still calling for her lover.

The flashes,however,had mixed in the images on the pages and the noise of thunder had been lost among the stories of Y/n mermaids.Cregan had been so busy observing those images drawn on the book and hating the King of the seas,that he completely forgot about the thunderstorm.

Y/n closed the book,placed it carefully on her nightstand and reached out to grab a thin sheet at the bottom of their feet and covered the young boy who slept well by her side.

«Good night,Cregan.Tomorrow there will be the sun,i promise you.»she whispered kissing his forehead and drifting to sleep too.

And for the first time,after so many years,he slept.After so many years,Cregan was sleeping peacefully with a thunderstorm.

On any day in the early summer,ten years later,Lady Y/n Stark of Winterfell was laying in the bed she shared with her Lord husband.

Wife and husband,that’s what her and Cregan had been for the past four years.But before pronouncing their vows in front of the Seven and their families,they had became the best of friends.

When did they start calling each other that way?When did they become friends?Could they find a precise moment when they had gone from being strangers to even best friends?Were they able to establish the exact moment when their bond changed?

No,they couldn’t.

Maybe it was the year after that fateful rainy night.Maybe it was the next month when Cregan had spent all of his moments and attention in Y/n presence,falling in love with her more and more.

Or maybe it had happened at the exact time their hands had touched,when Y/n had proposed to be together in that thunderstorm,to mark the point of change for their relationship.

They didn't know that though.Neither of them knew for sure.But they didn't even ask.They fell in love with each other before they got married and that was that mattered.There are bonds that are born before the interlocking of the hands and connections that are born before touching each other.It was just pretty to think that,all this time,there was some kind of invisible string that was tying them together.

Anyone who cared for Cregan had to understand that he needed a little looking after.Someone who could help him sleep,who reminded him that he was just human and that he could still a child sometimes.And Y/n understood that,she held him gently,far more gently that anyone ever did.She stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep at night,she stood next to him to greet the arrival of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and supported him in his decision to fight for the Dragon Queen.

All because she loved him more than anything and because he loved her.To love and to be loved was to rest.

Yet,now that Cregan was away,on the Wall of the great north with the young prince,Y/n couldn’t seem to find sleep.It was raining heavily outside,the long summer had arrived earlier that year and a violent storm was what welcomed it.

The pale rays of the moon filtered through the clouds,the wind was blowing against the windows,the lights of the lightning shaped the dark room she was in.

Cregan had ruined her,she thought to herself,ever since they got married and started to share the bed she couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t next to her,holding her in his arms,kissing her lips softly and whispering how much he loved her.But she knew that,with the war at their doorstep,he was busy with the young prince Jacaerys who came two weeks ago in ask for the help of the North.

Her husband was a man of honor,the Lord of Winterfell that never forget his oaths.

When a particular loud thunder broke through the quietness of the castle,Y/n got up from her bed.Taking the candle on the nightstand,she started walking down the dark corridor to reach her children chambers.Her sons,Rickon and Brandon,only four and two years old,looked exactly like their father:true men of the north but with their mother eyes and kind smile.

Just like their father they were scared of storms,it took her hours to put them to bed that night since the first drop of rain had hit the ground.They both reminded her the first time that she had spent with Cregan during one of those,curling up on her as she read them one of her books to help them sleep.

But that night was different,after two weeks of writing letters and longing,Cregan was finally home.As she quietly opened the door,the candle that Y/n was holding in her hand almost fell,when she saw her husband sitting on a chair in between the two beds where their sons seemed to sleep so soundly and well.

He was still wearing his dark fire coat and his long were wet,the tip of his nose red from the cold,while in his hands he was holding a old fairy tale book that they both knew very well.As if he had heard her behind the door,he smiled,and his face was like the sun.

He had came back as soon as he had heard the first sounds of the thunders,like a sailor bewitched by the melody of a siren voice.His sons were the first ones to greet him,running barefoot down the hallways to reach comfort in their father strong arms.

Cregan had been there before,his heart clenched in his chest as he dried the tears off their eyes and saw the fear on their little faces.But he knew what he had to do,unlike his father,he would always be there for help his children no matter what.

«The mermaid had waited all winter for her lover return,her voice guided him through the storm.»his voice was quiet and soft like a warm blanket«With the first lights of the new sun,he came back to her.»in his hands the hold book.

His oldest son yawned«But wasn’t he afraid of the storm?»Rickon asked,holding his teddy bear closer to his chest.

«He was.»Cregan nodded«But you know what is stronger than fear?»he whispered,noticing his younger son fast asleep.

Rickon shook his head,his eyes fighting to urge to close«What?»he chirped.

«Love.»his father simply answered«The idea of coming back to his lover was stronger than the fear of the storm.»Cregan stood up,caressing his son head.

«One day i want to love someone this much.Just like you love mama.»Rickon murmured sleepy,with a little smile on his face.

«And you will.»he promised«One day you will have someone that will help you overcome your fears and that will always call you back home when you are wondering too far.»he kissed both of his sons forehead.

Cregan was still a little nervous about storms,but that night he was finally back home as sun on water.Y/n reached for him and skimmed her hands over the light of him.

«I missed you.»she whispered on his lips,kissing him sweetly.

Cregan was holding her in his arms,gently caressing her hair,his forehead on hers«I saw the storm and i knew.»he smiled,trailing his lips on her chin and cheeks.

Y/n shivered,not only because his icy fingers were rubbing up and down her back,but because only her could understand the meaning of those words.The intimacy of having something only them could share with each other.

«So you came back early because of the storm?»she giggled as his beard tickled her beautiful face.

He smiled even more,tightening his grip on her smaller body«I came back because of you.Only you could have called me back home.»he whispered placing a kiss on her lips.

The smell of her hair,the taste of her mouth,the feeling of her skin seemed to have gotten inside of him or in the air all around him.She had become a physical necessity,not only to ease his fear,but to have someone to come back to.

She placed her head on his chest,listening to his heartbeat beating alongside hers.They stood there for a moment more,embracing each other,in the dark corridor.

«Do you hear it?»Y/n softly asked suddenly.

«Hear what?»Cregan voice was low.

«The sound of the rain.»she explained,closing her eyes and relaxing against his touch.

For a while they just listened to the incessant ticking of the rain,while a thousand fish continued to swim on the pages of their book.

But suddenly a flash illuminated the corridor,followed by the due thunder.

Y/n jolted,expecting her husband to do the same.

Yet this was not the case«Aren't you afraid of thunderstorms anymore?»she teased him.

«How can I be afraid of thunderstorms when I'm by your side?»he said,caressing her cheek lovingly.

«Tomorrow there will be the sun.»she smiled against him,brighter than any light.

She was right,after the storm there was always the warm weather and Y/n was the golden sun at the horizon.That one thing that gave him hope for a brighter future,the only one that could bring him back home.Because his sleepless nights are better with her than any nights could ever be alone.

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sweetbans29 · 7 months ago

Text

Sweetbans Masterlist 💛

Hi lovelies! Here is a place where you can see all of my writings (Little Miss Queen of Imagine Domesticity). I hope you enjoy!

Requests are currently CLOSED! Read more about requests! Please make sure to read the link above before sending in requests. I am averaging about 2 requests per week and will do my best to complete any request coming in. On that note, thank you for trusting me with your ideas, I truly appreciate it 🥹

Caitlin Clark 🤍

Hey You - A history worth revisiting

Hey You (PART 2) - A future worth fighting for

Be Here - 3 times you pull Caitlin out of her head

Now's Not the Time - 4 times you rile her up

Mia Bella - You and Caitlin meet at the dog park

Not Now - 4 times Caitlin riles you up

Greece - You go on a holiday to Greece

Spoken For - Your marriage with Caitlin comes to light

Should Have Been Me - Things will never be the same

Power Couple - You and Caitlin are known as the power couple

Eyes on You - You catch Caitlin's eye during a game

Friendship Bracelet - Meeting Caitlin at a TSwift concert

Come On Now - Caitlin being super proud of you

Crush - Caitlin has a crush on you

Sleepy - 3 times Caitlin falls asleep

That’s Mine - You don’t like when people take what’s yours

Little Ones - When talk becomes reality (baby edition)

Challenge Me (Spoken For part 2) - Your teams meet as UConn takes on Iowa

Match Me - Caitlin and you are known for your game day fits

Protector - 3 times Caitlin is overprotective

It’s Not You, It’s Them - Where you hide your parents from Caitlin

Long Way Home - Miscommunication leads to unnecessary heartache

Power Couple Part 2 - You and Caitlin take the Olympics

Feud - You and Caitlin navigate a long standing media feud

Mic'd - You forget you are mic's during practice

Out - You and Caitlin compliment each other well

Mistakes - They were made

Catch Me If You Can - Caitlin cracks your code

Bowling - Date night

Jersey - Caitlin’s game jersey belongs to you

Thinking of You - It’s all about timing

Train with me - Meeting Caitlin at the gym

Exposed - 3 times your relationship was almost exposed

Frustrated - Caitlin is frustrated

Rules - You have one rule

Little Flirt - Flirting goes on for way too long

Milkshakes - Prequel to Should Have Been Me

Biggest Fan - You are the Fever’s best fan

Varsity Jacket - You forget your jacket

Support - You are an advocate for CC

Long Way Home Pt. 2 - The after

Playbook - AKA your dad is your wingman

Wait for Me - HC of CC during pregnancy

Overprotective - She’s overprotective

Photograph - She loves the way you photograph her

You’re Mine - Jealous Caitlin

Hesitation Series - Slow is okay when it’s more than just you

Tiny Dancer - You dedicate your senior project to her

Capture This - Caitlin sees you in her future

Marked - Caitlin loves to leave marks

Pups - You’re Caitlin’s neighbor

Unmarked - Marked Pt 2

Flight - You hate flying

Stress Ball - Taking care of a stressed CC

Meatball - Photography AU

Paige Bueckers 💙

Teach Me (COMPLETED) - You ask Paige to teach you all you need to know about being intimate

The Ask

The Art of Kissing

The Art of Teasing

The Art of Practice

The Art of Touching

The Tragedy of Conflict

The Art of Confessing

The Art of You

Injured - You get hurt and Paige is there for you

Private - You and Paige try to keep to yourselves

Child - Mom Paige

Kate Martin 💛

Mascot - Kate has it down bad for the school mascot

Down Low - Dating Kate

#caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark imagine #caitlin clark masterlist #22 #paige bueckers #paige bueckers imagine #paige bueckers masterlist #5 #kate martin #kate martin imagine #kate martin masterlist #20

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radio-fmm · 5 months ago

Text

Sun kissed

Monkey D. Luffy x reader

Fluff fluff and just more fluff, confession, gender neutral reader no use of pronouns or gendered descriptions

1.5k words

You had never met someone like Luffy

He was once in a lifetime kind of guy, but familiar all the same; like the sun going down painting the skies with beautiful hues to then disappear as the moon anchors up above, the scenery a natural beauty that would repeat itself the next day but breathtaking nonetheless

Relentless and brave beyond belief, the only thing keeping him going when his body gives up being his unmeasurable conviction, a selfish captain that always gets what he wants, he hates being called a hero yet he possesses the biggest kind heart of gold you had ever seen

It wasn’t a surprise when you realized your admiration for your Captain went beyond just that, after all, he had freed you; offering you a place in his crew, an unbreakable friendship that you cherished and a promise to both achieve your dreams together

The roles of captain and crew member being almost nonexistent nor necessary; every single strawhat had sworn loyalty to Luffy just because he had been the purest of friends, not needing an explanation for their past or behavior before extending his support and kindness. He saw something in all of you and that was enough, his role only held by this unspoken respect and trust

However, the base of the strawhats crew was the already so mentioned friendship, there was this dynamic you had to follow even if it pained you to do so

Because you didn’t wanted to get in his way

Luffy was so busy working to be the king of the pirates, you knew the moment he got to see you walking before him with your heart in your hands he would decline the offering, even if the lines between your relationship were already so blurry

Even as you beat yourself up to ‘stay in the lane’ there was this natural flow that would bring Luffy to your shore, as it would also bring you to his

It’s always you and him

You the first to jump to defend his name even if held by gunpoint, screaming at the top for your lungs that he would be the next king of the pirates making his heart swell. You the first he looks for in the battlefield, he believes in your strength but his mind can only think about your safety and wellbeing. You the first to join in his laughter, joy spreading all across your being as you both giggle with big bright smiles that seem to grow bigger at each other’s sight. You the only one he doesn’t steal food from when you’re sitting at dinner

you and him

Regardless of how close and how happy you were, souls destined to intertwine, Luffy would be a liar if he said he didn’t notice the sadness and uncertainty that started to gloss over your face whenever your gaze looked for his. A lot of things he is, perceptive a quality a lot of people seemed to brush off

“Why are you doing that face?”

You sat side by side on his seat on top of The Sunny, the celebration for yet another victory unfolding behind you becoming a little unbearable since your eyes could not be peeled off your Captain, your heart heavy with unspoken feelings hanging form your tongue

You crook a small smile- “What face?” Your question answering his questions makes the pirate frown and huff in annoyance, his arms crossing in front of his scarred chest

“You have been doing that face every time I look at you”- even though he’s making an statement it sounds more like a reproach “Are you upset with me?”

Your heart falls to the sea that rocks the ship at a slow tranquil pace, your breath picking up speed as your try to make up for the emptiness in your chest- “N-No Luffy I could never get mad at you!”

He remains quiet, a frown still hanging form his lips as his eyes do a one over your nervous form, as if looking for an answer in your body language, but it ever appears- “Something is not right, you’re not… you”

Your face drops and your eyebrows knit in pain, making it now impossible to miss the thoughts that plague you as they reflect on your face, a quality of yours Luffy quite enjoyed- “I love you, please come back to you”

The first three words hit you like a Marine’s ship, eyes widening in shock mouth going dry as they replay for a couple more times before you come back to earth. A pang now replacing the emptiness you once felt as a remainder that you were in fact a real person, a human being with emotions and desires that could not be ignored for much longer

“I- you love me?” You sound absolutely incredulous

“Well of course I do! You’re one of my best friends” Luffy answered beaming with a 3000 kilowatt smile that has you burning at the sight of it

You feel dizzy, your mind reeling making everything around you spin, your breath that once struggled to be kept in now leaving your mouth in an exasperated sigh that makes your Captain confused

“What? Is that.. wrong?”

“No it’s not , it’s just that-” your words get stuck in your throat, you massage your head and temples as you meditate the answer you’re about to give, a fear creeping up that grows exponentially when you meet his eyes again

“I love you too, but not as a friend” it even surprises you how delicate and patiently every word left you, your heart coming back to life by beating faster and faster as every second passed

Luffy stays quiet again, which only feeds on your worry since he’s not someone that find themselves at a loss of words

“Oh… so like…” he struggles to pint point exactly what is it you’re trying to tell him, the thought of a romantic interest never crossing his mind before, the label lost in the wind of his wild determined motions that had led you to him. He knows this tingling sensation he gets whenever you’re alone isn’t something friends are supposed to feel, because it only happens with you. And it grows even stronger when you smile, and when your hands touch? He feels like he might combust; he knows you’re special to him, but it never occurred to him what that might actually intel

This ‘love’ Sanji always babbles about when he’s sitting waiting for his meal and tries to strike a conversation, though the cook seemed to had painted it as something more complicated, what Luffy felt for you was not complicated at all, he loved you and that was it, clear as water. This being the reason he had never approached you about it, he wasn’t sure how to go about this new feeling that was taking over him every time he saw you, an urgency to always be with you, his body begging to crash into yours

“Love” he completes his sentence though it feels like he’s assuring himself that what he just heard was what he understood

“Yes, I love you Luffy, more than friends do” he nods still thinking about your statement

“Ok! Me too!” Your eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of your skull, you’re so confused for a statement so blunt and direct

“Y-you… love me?”

“Yes, quite a lot, as much as meat actually!”- You had never came across someone like Luffy, he always seemed to surprise you with his antics but this… you were dumbfounded- “You’re funny, beautiful and strong! And so smart too! How could I not love you?” The way he speaks about his love for you makes your stomach turn in glee, like its the most obvious thing in the world, like he knows the sky is blue

Something you had never had before

A honest and real smile now spreads on your face which makes your Captain smile even wider back at you, his mission of bringing you back now complete and he basks on it, happy he got his way

“See! There you are!” His hands come up to crush your cheeks together, his fingers warm form the heat that exudes form them

“Luffy” the way his name leave your lips begs him to stop, big chocolate eyes hanging form above you like the stars in the night. Ever so slowly, your face cuts the space between you inch by inch leaving enough room for your stretchy captain to pull away if he wishes to. But he stays completely still, eager to find out where are you going and hoping it’s only closer

Your lips graze softly over his, a featherlight feeling that could be missed yet it sparks something deep inside both of you. You pull away to gaze at Luffy expectantly, as if afraid you had overstepped only to be met with twinkling eyes and a happy face. The butterflies in your stomach go wild once again but now they push you to kiss him again with more confidence and intention and Luffy welcomes it gladly, almost too grateful

“This is so fun, keep doing it!” He states between smiles and laughter that make you beam- “But only do it to me”

As if you were to love anyone else like this

Masterlist

#one piece #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy x y/n #one piece luffy #luffy #one piece imagine #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x reader #luffy op

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louloulemons-posts · 3 months ago

Note

Saw that alphabet headcanons are starting to become popular and I was wondering if you could do both versions of the alphabet too ( SFW and nsfw alphabet head canons) for Logan?

SFW Alphabet

Wolverine x Reader

authors note : this is such a cute idea! i love reading these so much - i probably won’t do a NSFW one because i don’t write much content like that 🫶🏻

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A = Affection

(how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

heres the thing, in public he’s barely affectionate at all, it’d be a hand on your waist or rubbing his fingers on your shoulder. in private he’s the opposite, he is all over you like a leech, cuddles, kisses. at one point you had to stop him holding your hand when you went to pee.

B = Best Friend

(what would they be like as a best friend? how did the friendship start?)

just like he is with everyone, logan is quite standoffish with you when you first meet. you met through charles at the mansion, but after a week or so, and many smiled, logan warmed to you. you became really close really quick, talking about anything and everything.

C = Cuddles

(do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

logan is an cuddle bug, he loves a hug. as soon as you get, or him, get back from a mission he’d be on you. wrapping his arms around you and holding you close, your own legs wrapped around his waist.

D = Domestic

(do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

as soon as you and logan get together, he knows he wants to be with you for the rest of your lives. he wants a simple life, no more fighting, a little home away from everything. he’d be better at cleaning than cooking, you’d cook and he’d wash up and dry.

E = Ending

(if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

logan would never want this, it would be worse comes to worse. you were in danger. he’d hate it, say it was to protect you, which would break your hate, and in turn you’d hate him in a way. but he’d always come back - logan always did.

F = Fiance(e)

(how would they feel about commitment? how quickly do they want to get married?)

he’d probably wait a year or two, promising to love you forever. you’d have a small private wedding a few months later, with your closest friends and wade would fight to be bestman.

G = Gentle

(how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he’d learn to be more gentle with you, forever gentle with you, never wanting to cause any harm. soft touches and words are key for logan.

H = Hugs

(do they like hugs? how often? what are their hugs like?)

as said above, big bear hugs, holding you close. it’d be secure, you’d feel so safe when he hugs you. rests his head on top of yours and presses his lips on your hair constantly.

I = I love you

(how fast do they say the L-word?)

either a couple months into the relationship, or as he’s first asking you out - no in between.

J = Jealousy

(how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

ha. so yeah he is kinda jealous, he’s just scared you’ll find someone better than him (logan that’s not possible btw babe), he’d become more touchy or death glare anyone who looked in your direction - definitely would end up in you comforting, kissing all over his face and telling him how much you love him.

K = Kisses

(what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they liked to be kissed?)

kisses with logan are always full of love and passion, his favourite place to kiss you is your lips of course, but does place his head in your neck and kiss your pulse point on a regular. he’s a sucker for forehead kisses for sureeee.

L = Little ones

(how are they around children?)

he’s scared of them.

when he meets laura that doesn’t really change, but my god he’s a good dad and you take her in as your daughter - he absolutely adores the both of you and seeing you together melts his heart - but not when you join forces and gang up on him.

M = Morning

(how are mornings spent with them?)

slow and soft. waking up slowly with kisses all over your face, shoulders and back. gentle whisperers to bring you from your slumber and hushed voices when you wake up.

N = Night

(how are nights spent with them?)

soft giggles, hushing you to sleep, but obnoxiously loud laughter if you’re quiet for too long. your head rested on logan’s chest, feeling it shakes as he tries to hold in a giggle. but soon wrapped around one another, fast asleep.

O = Open

(when would they start revealing personal things? do they say it all or tell you slowly?)

logan doesn’t know why but he feels so comfortable about you, he speaks about his childhood, his brother, the wars, the adamantium … everything. he tells you everything, you hold his closely and quietly as he does so, running your fingers through his hair, just letting him talk.

P = Patience

(how easily angered are they?)

… this is logan we’re talking about. he doesn’t get angry at you, annoyed yes, if you hurt yourself doing something silly. his claws slip out with ease when he sees someone making you upset or uncomfortable, not even thinking before acting.

Q = Quizzes

(how much do they remember about you? do they remember every detail or forget everything?)

he would not forget a single thing about you, even silly small things. you stopped believing in the tooth fairy at 7? he knows it. your favourite smell is vanilla? logan’s got a vanilla candle. you love green? guess what? he’s got you a green blanket.

R = Remember

(what’s their favourite moment in your relationship?)

your first kiss for sure, he could never forget it, he was being broody and rambling about issues you may face in the future. you just grabbed him by his worn flannel and kissed him straight on the mouth - he instantly shut up.

S = Security

(how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they want to be protected?)

so fucking protective, he’d protect you with his life. you walk on the inside of the path away from the cars. an overly bark-y dog approaches, you’re behind him. you feel uncomfortable, claws are drawn.

logan needs mental protection more than anything, whatever he tells you in confidence, stays with you, it stays quiet, never used as an insult, it’s precious and makes him him.

T = Try

(how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

as said above he never forgets a thing about you, so if you ever make a passing comment, he will remember it. gifts are forever heartfelt and unique. anniversaries are quiet and just for you, same with dates, never one the same. and every day tasks, logan will sit you down and do everything if you asked.

U = Ugly

(what are some of their bad habits?)

takes an ungodly amount of time doing his hair. that’s it.

V = Vanity

(how concerned are they about their looks?)

okay okay, his outfits are always great. he looks good all the fucking time, but he’d look great in a bin bag. i think he throws on whatever … but as i said before … hair.

W = Whole

(would they feel incomplete without you?)

oh 100% a second without you is too much. he wouldn’t know what to do with himself, he’d feel lopsided if he was on a solo mission.

X = Xtra

(a random head cannon)

scared of frogs. you’ve chased him around the mansion with one.

Y = Yuck

(what are some things they don’t like, in a partner, or just in general?)

someone who doesn’t listen, like at all, just someone who is totally self obsessed. he couldn’t deal with that.

Z = Zzz

(what’s a sleeping habit of theirs?)

BLANKET HOG

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

this was so much fun to do, thank you for the request i loveeddd it.

leave any requests, they’re slowly coming i promise 🫶🏻

#wolverine x reader #wolverine fic #xmen wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine imagine #wolverine #logan #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett imagine #xmen logan #logan howlett #james howlett #imagine #sfw alphabet #xmen #hugh jackman #loulou lemons

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flowerandblood · 5 months ago

Text

The Fall from the Heavens (Epilogue)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: description of hard childbirth, fluffy sex, hate sex, smut, angst, kid catching his parents having sex, anxiety, depression, childhood feeling of rejection ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

We have reached the end of this journey: I hope this epilogue gives you a taste of what their family life was like. I had a lot of fun writing this from three perspectives and I think it's a great ending to this series. Thank you to everyone who was with me and supported me. You may cry that the main series is over, but there are still two modern AUs in which we will see Aemond and Rhaenys again!

Aemond & Rhaenys's Children Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond

It turned out that there was a role that terrified him more than being a ruler-regent alongside his wife and it was fatherhood. He was ashamed to admit it, but it was easier for him to understand the needs of the kingdom than his own son.

He was dominated above all by a sense of terror which made him freeze all over, not knowing what to do or how to behave. He first felt it when his niece suggested that he should take their newborn child into his arms.

"I don't know. You better hold him." He muttered, seeing in his mind all the possibilities of what he could do wrong and inadvertently hurt their son. His wife looked at him indulgently.

"Come here. Sit next to me." She said, encouraging him with a nod. He pressed his lips together, tense, and approached her slowly, sitting down beside her on the soft bedding. Viserys yawned loudly, twisting in his mother's arms, calm and content, his belly full of her milk.

He swallowed hard, horrified when she shifted towards him, wanting to hand him the infant in his hands. He immediately put his arms under him, afraid to drop him.

"Put his head here, on the bend of your arm. Just like that, support him with your hand on the other side. There you go." She said warmly, pleased at this sight. His heart stopped in his throat as her hands let go of his small body and his son remained in his embrace.

He was afraid that without his mother's familiar presence his son would begin to cry and become anxious, but he slept peacefully, snuggling into his leather tunic.

He was ashamed to feel the emotion and the burning tears under his eyelids looking at his small face, his tiny hands clenched into fists, thinking how great a burden was on him, though he did not yet know it.

On his son.

He swallowed hard when he felt his wife's hand on his back, her temple pressed against his cheek, looking at the scene.

"Isn't he beautiful?" She asked softly, and he was silent for a moment, feeling that he was struggling to find the right words to answer her.

"It's the most beautiful, innocent being I've ever seen in my life." He muttered and closed his eye in surrender, feeling a hot tear run down his cheek. She heard his heavy, uneven breath and leaned in, wanting to see his face.

"– oh, my love – my sweet, sweet husband –" She whispered tenderly, placing warm, wet, lingering kisses on his cheek. He snuggled his face into her neck, wanting as always to hide from his fear, insecurity and pain in her familiar vanilla-scented flesh.

From that moment on, holding Viserys no longer frightened him so much – what's more, he felt a sense of satisfaction when his son squirmed and squealed at the sight of him, happy, reaching out his small, chubby little hands to him, longing to be in his arms.

His father had never done that, but he had no intention of making his mistakes.

For this reason he took turns reading to him at bedtime with his wife. Sitting on his lap, Viserys gazed with big eyes at the richly illustrated legends of their ancestors, his little legs willowing in excitement every time dragons appeared on the pages of the book.

"Soon your dragon will hatch." He whispered in his ear, pointing his finger at a large vessel hanging over the hearth with a dragon egg inside, Daemon's gift to his grandson.

"You will fly in the skies. You will be king of the Seven Kingdoms. You will be fearless, fair, loved. I will be by your side." He hummed and kissed his plump, pink cheek.

His wife watched them with a smile, relaxing in a warm bath after a long, tiring day full of their duties.

The evenings, nights and mornings were just for them.

For their family.

She finally stood up from the water, throwing only a soft, cream-coloured robe over her body, tying it around her waist, reaching out her hands for their son, who had just fallen asleep in his arms.

"Don't wake him." He mumbled out in pain, purposely not moving from his seat unwilling to interrupt his slumber, handing Viserys to her. She laughed quietly under her breath, walking with their child towards the bed, sitting down on the sheets.

"I won't. Our little boy will eat his meal in his sleep." She hummed, slipping the sleeve of her robe off her shoulder, revealing her sweet, plump breast, all swollen with milk.

He swallowed hard, watching enthralled as his son, still asleep, in a natural reflex clamped his lips around her nipple and began to suckle with a purr of satisfaction.

He was ashamed of how he himself loved tasting her now, how warm and sweet her milk was melting on his tongue, how hard he was getting at the very thought that as soon as she laid their son down in the cradle, he would sink deep between her thighs as he did every night, cuddled into her fragrant body, listening to her sweet moans, only to fill her again with his seed.

The news that his wife was expecting his child again filled them with joy, and the birth of their third son reassured the entire kingdom – Viserys, Aegon and Daeron had secured the line of succession.

However, this time his niece endured the hardships of childbirth worse than before.

"Aemond!" He heard her desperate cry from behind the door of her chamber and, despite his brother's attempts to stop him, he walked inside.

He was horrified to see her blood all around her, her face at once pale and red from tears of exertion, her swollen lips parted in loud, pitiful moans.

"– uncle – the baby won't come out – oh gods, oh gods, oh gods –" She muttered, tilting her head back in a sudden panic attack, her mother began to comfort her quickly, squeezing her hand in her own.

Not knowing what to do with himself, he walked over to her, sitting down next to her on the bed, grasping her hand in his.

"– I'm here – I'm so sorry, my sweetest – I'm so sorry –" He mumbled out in a trembling voice, cradling her in his arms, feeling her go breathless all over, a squeal escaping her lips and a quiver of discomfort as another contraction shook her body.

"– fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, gods, please! –" She sobbed, and all he could do was cuddle his face into her hair, his heart pouding like a mad in horror.

He wasn't sure he'd experienced anything more terrifying, more heartbreaking in his entire life.

"– just a little more – I can see the head – there it is, push, Princess, push now –" She commanded, and by some effort incomprehensible to him, after several attempts, his niece forced his son out into the world, who wept loudly in Alys Rivers' arms.

"– he has your hair, Princess –" She whispered, and his wife breathed a sigh of relief, wailing loudly from the exhaustion, horror and pain her whole body went through.

Alicent and Rhaenyra promised to look after their children so that their mother would have a few days to recover – Viserys and Aegon were only allowed to see her for a moment, once the bedding had been changed and he had helped her dress in a clean, snow-white nightgown.

"– I envy him – your dark hair is more to my liking –" Aegon muttered, glancing over Alicent's shoulder at the infant she held in her arms.

"– enough – your mother needs to rest –" He said shakily, unable to pull himself together after what had happened, seeing with what difficulty his niece was smiling at their sons, trying to pretend that all was well.

He knew it wasn't.

She burst out crying in his arms as soon as they were alone, panting and whooping with her tears, his hands stroking her back and hair tenderly, trying to soothe her.

"– I'm so sorry – I know, my love – shhh – I'm here –" He whispered, kissing the top of her head again and again. His niece swallowed loudly, trying to catch her breath.

"– forgive me – forgive me for making you watch this –" She muttered helplessly, as if she was ashamed that she had forced him to look at something that was meant only for the eyes of women.

"– no – I would not forgive myself if you had to go through this alone – my sweet, brave wife – now just rest –" He whispered. She breathed a loud sigh of relief and snuggled into him, calming down slowly, exhausted after the hardships of childbirth and the emotions she had experienced.

He carried her in his arms because she couldn't get up or sit up, helped her bathe, change and eat, wanting her to know that her suffering and sacrifice for him and their family was not indifferent to him. Knowing that she needed rest, for days he would fall asleep by her side stroking her head, shoulders and back, letting her sink into the safe embrace of his arms.

However, he couldn't help what he felt as he looked at her, that he desired her and her body, that he wanted to touch her.

That he wanted to make love to her.

At some point, he realised that the desire she aroused in him was different than it had been at first: from a fiery, burning feeling of wanting to taste the forbidden fruit again and again, his needs had changed over the years and he knew that no other woman could satisfy them.

It was not because he did not find other women beautiful or worthy of desire, but because only her body brought him solace, only her hands touched him in a way that made him hot, only her scent sent shivers down his spine, only her bright eyes shone with a wonderful warmth at the sight of him.

Her insides were always ready to receive him, silky, moist and hot, giving him a sense of security, her naked body soft and inviting – his manhood, already without his mind's involvement, reacted with a joyful, excited pulsing and twitching in his breeches at the sight of her, equating her with the pleasure he experienced every time.

He concluded that, just as men became addicted to wine or cards, he became addicted to his wife's closeness.

Therefore, he couldn't explain to his painfully swollen erection why suddenly, despite his wife's constant presence next to him, he couldn't touch her and had to be patient: he craved her constantly and died lying next to her, unable to sleep from the tension.

One night his niece, feeling the way his swollen length was pushing, tucked into his breeches, against her stomach, took pity on him, gripping his fat, warm manhood in her hand. He moaned like a helpless little boy, rolling his hips to the rhythm of her strokes, her fingers giving him an encouraging, assured squeezes at the base making his heart begin to pound like mad.

"– please –" He muttered, his hand sinking into her smooth hair, his lips, puffy with desire, found hers in a hot, wet, sticky kiss full of their teeth and tongues.

His wife knew his manhood well – she teased the head of it, leaking with his desire, with her thumb, making it pulsate all over and tremble in her embrace, her tongue gently licking his, making him fall apart in front of her after a moment, desperate. He groaned with a loud sigh of pleasure, closing his eye in relief when he felt his hot seed spurt out onto her nightgown.

"– fuck –" He gasped, feeling a complete and wonderful emptiness in his head, her small body snuggled into his.

He heard her smile.

"Try to sleep now, husband."

That night, indeed, he slept a stony sleep like a small child.

Over the following months, they both slowly pushed the boundary: his niece again let his fingers sink tentatively into her fleshy, velvety folds, his fingers teased her nipples when, after his tender treatments, she finally reached fulfilment in his arms, moaning his name loudly.

"– put it inside me, uncle – please –" She mumbled helplessly one night, rocking her hips so that again and again her buttocks rubbed against his yearningly swollen manhood.

"– I can't, my sweetest – not yet –" He muttered – her small hand clenched on his arm which embraced her, her warm womanhood all pulsing, leaking with her sticky wetness under his fingers.

"– please – please, husband, I can't take it anymore –" She cried out in despair – he grasped her cheeks in his hand and twisted her face, only then seeing that tears were running from her eyes.

"– are you sure? –" He muttered in a trembling voice, feeling his whole manhood tremble and pulsate with desire, dreaming only of sinking into her warm walls again. His niece nodded her head quickly, making him grin involuntarily.

"– this little cunt misses me so much? –" He murmured affectionately and she nodded again, her pink, puffy lips parted in a sigh as the tips of his two fingers began to stretch her swollen, wet slit.

"– come here –" He murmured and she cried out loudly as he released his swollen erection from his breeches in a sure, aggressive motion, dreaming of feeling her this way again for weeks, immediately directing the head of his cock dripping from his moisture onto her tight, throbbing opening.

The feeling of being deep inside her again was an almost spiritual sensation – they both sighed and groaned as if relieved that they could be one body, one person again.

"– that's it – there you go –" He gasped, rolling his hips, sliding slowly deep into her only to slide out of her almost fully a moment later, again and again opening her swollen entrance on his thick, pulsing erection with the quiet clicks of her wetness.

"– good gods – I didn't fill you for so fucking long – my poor wife left without my seed –" He muttered with difficulty, his eyes closed while he longed to focus only on this, on her warm, soft, moist walls squeezing him greedily where it was so safe, so good, thrusting into her more and more confidently, feeling the familiar tightness in his stones proving that he was surprisingly close to reach his peak.

"– Aemond –" She mumbled, and nothing more than their sighs, moans and cries left their throats until they came together, panting heavily, all soaking wet and hot from the exertion.

His arms embraced her tightly, his lips placed quick, hot kisses on her shoulders as his chest clung to her back, their legs entwined together in disarray.

"– gods, I missed you –"

Viserys

Viserys knew no other married couple who behaved as his parents did in the solitude of their chambers. He had witnessed many times conversations between his mother and his father, the fearless, menacing One-Eyed Prince, rider of the mightiest dragon walking on the world.

He could hear the man he feared and admired at the same time listening silently to his wife's words, her comments on his decisions and their validity.

His mother had never challenged him in public during the meetings of the Small Council, but she did so often when they were already left alone, and his father, to his surprise, did not explode with anger, as was his custom, but listened to her with calmness and respect.

His father allowed himself to be touched only by his wife – only she could take his hand, stroke his cheek, sit on his lap when they thought no one could see.

He had witnessed them embrace, his father's lips pressed against her ear as he stood behind her back, his hands met with hers on her lower abdomen, stroking her skin hidden beneath her night robe, his words meant only for her.

Only once had he seen his father terrified: when his mother, standing by his side in the throne room as they listened to the lords' speeches, suddenly fainted, unaware that she was already carrying his sister in her womb at the time.

He remembered that the day had been exceptionally hot, and his mother had been feeling ill since the morning: in accordance with the agreement, neither she nor her husband could sit on the Iron Throne, so they stood before it during a gathering of the whole court.

His father, usually cool and composed in his actions, rushed towards her to catch her, and then began shouting at the guards to lead the lords out of the room and bring in the maester immediately.

Viserys sat by her bed with his younger brother, Aegon, holding her hand in his, listening in silence to the exchange between his father, the maester and his grandfather.

"The Queen Regent should not strain herself. She is expecting your child, Your Grace."

"So soon?" Mumbled his father, as if surprised – his youngest brother, Daeron, had been born only five months earlier.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Are you surprised? Don't you know how children are brought into this world?" Daemon hissed.

Viserys and Aegon pressed their lips together, looking in horror at their father, who was staring at their grandfather wide-eyed, breathing heavily, furious.

He had never heard anyone speak to him this way before.

His father looked away as if he felt ashamed, bitter apparently at having contributed to his wife's suffering.

His mother awoke after a few hours, but she was weak and the maester ordered that she should lie in bed for a few days and gain strength.

His father gave up his daily routine to simply sit by her side, sinking into reading great volumes about the history of Essos.

He wanted to make his mother smile and lift her spirits, however, he had no idea how he could do this and was afraid to ask his father.

He decided to seek a woman's advice.

"If your mother was tired and sad, what would you give her?" He asked Alyssa, sitting with her on the grass under one of the trees. His cousin pressed her lips together, swinging her legs, lying on her stomach.

"Field flowers. Or cakes. No, some beautiful letter. Or you could recite her a poem!" She began to quickly throw out ideas, excited, her blue eyes bright and beautiful, her long white eyelashes and hair pinned up in a braid glistening in the sun.

"I'd rather it be that one thing." He muttered, not wanting to make a jester of himself in front of his father.

"Field flowers." Alyssa decided.

"How will I know which ones are the right ones?" He asked reluctantly, as a man never delving into these, in his mind, girly, tendentious matters.

He breathed a sigh of relief when his cousin suggested they go to the gardens and pick them together.

Already standing outside the door of his parents' chamber, he began to feel doubts about whether what he wanted to do was a good idea.

What if his father will think that he is weak?

That he is behaving like a little girl?

If he looks at him with disapproval and embarrassment?

"My Prince?" He heard a voice behind him and saw a smiling woman, one of his mother's servants, who had apparently brought her warm soup.

He could no longer escape or retreat, so he went inside with her.

His father rose from his seat, his face expressing cold frustration.

"Why did it take so long?" He asked, the woman lowered her head.

"Forgive me, Your Grace."

"What is it?" He turned his words to him, looking at what he held in his hands. He swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks turn red with shame.

"Flowers for my mother. I wanted to make her smile." He muttered. His father blinked, silent for a moment.

"Good. Go to her. But don't torment her for too long. She needs to rest." His father said, and he nodded quickly, feeling the hard pounding of his heart, all hot with terror.

His mother was delighted with his bouquet composed of carnations, daisies, poppies and dandelions, her warm smile and look full of tenderness made him immediately calm down.

"Thank you, sweet boy." She whispered, stroking his cheek with her soft, familiar hand. She wanted to embrace him, but he moved away involuntarily, because he didn't want her to do this in front of his father.

Nine months later, his first little sister, Visenya, was born.

He remembered only a few years of his life during which his mother had not been with child.

He did not understand why, when he already had four siblings – two brothers and two sisters – there was still a need for more to be born.

Aegon, his brother, once told him that it was because of what married couples did at night – the septon explained to him that offspring resulted from a marital, physical union.

When he was sure he was alone in the library, he read in shame a small volume devoted to the begetting of descendants. He felt disgust and discomfort when he read about a man inserting part of his body between the woman's thighs, filling her with his seed.

It sounded foreign and unpleasant, and he wondered more and more whether his mother was actually in pain and needed to experience a bit of rest.

He dared to raise the issue one day during their supper together, which was a great mistake on his part.

"Aren't you tired, Mother?" He asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She and his father looked at him puzzled, his father having just handed her a tray of goose pate.

"What do you mean, my love?" She asked softly, as always looking at him with a tenderness and attention that made him feel safe.

He swallowed hard, looking reproachfully at his father, who was just taking a deep sip of wine, watching him vigilantly, his healthy eye shining uneasily in the firelight.

His father was mysterious, distant, beyond comprehension.

Cold.

Frightening.

"I struggle to recall a time during which you did not carry a child inside you. After all, your inheritance is secured, shouldn't you be able to rest at last?" He asked, bewildering his mother. His father pressed his lips into a thin line, frustrated by his remark, setting his cup down on the table with a loud clink of steel.

"Don't ever address me or your mother this way again. Apologise to her immediately for your inappropriate words." His father said slowly and coolly in a manner from which an unpleasant shiver ran down his spine, his eye wide open.

"Aemond." His mother turned to him, stroking anxiously her slightly rounded abdomen.

His father looked at her and licked his lower lip, silent – he knew that they communicated now, as they were sometimes in the habit of doing, by sight alone, without using words.

"Perhaps it would be appropriate for you to explain to your first-born son why I carry your child inside me again?" She asked with emphasis, her husband's lips curved in displeasure.

His father looked at him with a gaze from which he lowered his head, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart – he heard him lift the cup to his lips and take a deep sip of wine from it.

"There is no need."

Although when he was a little infant he had been in his father's arms as often as he had been in his mother's, the more he matured the more distant his father's figure seemed to become, inaccessible as a stone fortress.

They spent time together during sparring in the courtyard, where he trained him in the wielding of the sword, and while studying the language of Old Valyria, bent over old tomes.

His father was a strict and demanding teacher – although he never humiliated him or mocked him, he could see when his father was frustrated and he suffered deeply because of it.

He knew that there was only a three years left until he would be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms and felt that he did not deserve it. It seemed to him that his father, looking at him, thought the same thing.

Compared to him, he was weak.

How could he surpass the greatest warrior in the world, able to speak as much about war as history or philosophy, knowing the language of their ancestors, riding the mighty Vhagar?

"Father does not love me." He muttered once, when they were alone in his chamber and his mother was helping him dress before they all set off for the Great Sept. She shook her head, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

"Your father loves you, Viserys. He cares about everything about you, but he can't show it." She said, looking at him in pain.

"He can show it to you, Mother." He replied reproachfully, not understanding why he did not have as much understanding and patience for him as he did for her.

She was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the stone floor beneath his feet.

"I am his wife. We are connected by a different bond, the kind that a man and a woman share." She explained, and he pressed his lips together and shook his head.

"No. He just loves you more than any of us." He replied dryly, pulling himself out of her embrace and walked out of the chamber, fastening the buckles of his tunic himself.

He was now thirteen years old, he was already a man and his mother, no matter how much he loved her, no longer had to help him dress as if he were a small child.

One evening, as he was about to inform his parents of his decision as to the guest list for the celebration of his Name Day, he heard from behind the door of their quarters sounds that disturbed him.

It seemed to him that his mother was moaning in pain.

When he opened them quietly and peeked inside, he saw his father's body from the side, pressing his mother to the bed, his hips rocking inside her in quick, deep thrusts with loud clicks of something wet and sticky, his hand holding her cheeks between his fingers in an iron grip as he looked down at her.

Although he always wore it in their presence, now he didn't have his eye patch on his face.

"– do you like the way he looks at you? – hm? – do you think I don't see him following you with his gaze? – dreaming that it is his child that you are carrying inside you? –" He hissed maliciously, pounding into her aggressively, making his mother squirm beneath him, driving her short nails into his shoulders as if trying to defend herself.

"– n-no – no, uncle –" She mumbled, panting loudly, her breath heavy and ragged, droplets of sweat on her skin.

Why was he hurting her?

Should he scream, come inside, tell him to stop?

"– no? – maybe I should gouge his eyes out? – if he doesn't know he's a fool, that he has no fucking right to desire you –" He growled, pressing his forehead against hers, panting and moaning along with her as the bed began to creak loudly under them with each of his thrusts, his mother tilting her head back and closing her eyes, an expression on her face that he didn't understand.

"– Aemond – Aemond, Aemond, Aemond –" She cried out, pressing her husband's body against hers, crossing her legs over his bare back as if she didn't want to let him go, and after a moment they both made loud, almost animal-like sounds as if relieved, and his father's body fell on top of her without strength.

He swallowed hard, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart as he saw his father's hand brush his mother's cheek, his lips placing tender, lazy, loud kisses on her face as if she were a small child, whispering something to her.

His healthy eye opened suddenly, his pupil narrowed in shock when he saw him standing in the threshold of their chamber.

He ran away quickly, terrified, thinking his father would kill him with his own hands.

He trembled as he ran back into his chamber, sitting down on the bed, feeling that he was quivering with fear.

That his father would surely deprive him of his throne and banish him for what he had done, that he dared to look at their naked bodies like some disgusting sinner.

He shuddered and jumped up in his seat when, a moment later, the door opened and indeed his father stood in it, already wearing a shirt and breeches, his sapphire glowed in the warm firelight.

He curled into himself, prepared for his blow or scream, but his father just stood there looking at him, breathing heavily.

He sighed loudly and closed the door behind him, then walked slowly towards him, surprising him by sitting down next to him. For a moment he sat bent over, leaning on his elbows with his face hidden between his hands.

He finally looked at him and, to his surprise, he did not see rage in his gaze.

"Viserys. These are intimate moments meant only for my and your mother's eyes. What came to your mind to do this?" He said coolly but calmly.

He swallowed hard, red with shame, feeling that he was shaking, trying not to cry like a little girl out of fear.

"I thought… I thought you were hurting my mother. That's what it sounded like. Like she was in pain." He muttered.

His father pressed his lips together and licked his lower lip, then nodded.

"I see. It's good that you care about your mother's safety and want to protect her. However, know that I would never hurt her." He finally replied.

"Then why did she suffer?" He asked further trying to understand what he had actually seen.

His father sighed, picking at the cuticles around his fingernails as he always did when he felt discomfort.

"She didn't suffer. When we are very close, we experience pleasure so strong that it borders on pain."

"Is that why mother is expecting a baby again?" He asked quietly, and his father swallowed hard, tense.

"Yes."

"Is what you are doing... a sin?" He asked in a trembling voice, his father throwing him a quick, surprised look.

"No. Not when it takes place between husband and wife. It's… you cannot be closer to another human being than during this act. Me and your mother want to be as close as possible and we derive pleasure from it."

They both remained in an uncomfortable silence for a moment.

He felt that this was his chance, an opportunity to ask his father about all the things he had been unable to comprehend and had never had the courage to bring up in his presence.

"Why do you call my mother Rhaenys? After all, that is not her real name, is it?" He asked, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

His father swallowed hard, staring dully ahead, thoughtful.

"For me, it is."

"Don't you like her real name?" He continued, trying hard to get anything out of him.

"She always said she wanted to be like Rhaenys, the younger sister and also one of Aegon the Conqueror's two wives. She called herself that to frustrate me, because I always said I would rather one day have a woman like Visenya as my betrothed. She used to call herself that in the letters she sent to me."

"Letters? My mother sent you letters?" He asked, surprised, hearing about it for the first time.

His father fell silent for a long moment.

"Yes. More than fifty over eight years. I never wrote her back to any of them."

He blinked, looking at him in disbelief, feeling his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"Why? Didn't you love her back then?"

There was a kind of sadness, weariness and regret on his father's face that he saw for the first time in his life.

"Quite the opposite."

"Then why? She must have been so sad."

"She was."

He lowered his gaze, thinking with despondency that his father's mind was indeed beyond comprehension.

"When she appeared after eight years in the Red Keep, I asked her if she still wanted to marry me. And she, despite everything, still wanted to. Your mother always showed me more understanding than I deserved." He stated finally.

He nodded at his words.

"How did you know for certain that she would become your wife?" He asked uncertainly, playing with his fingers in a reflex he inherited from him. His father lowered his head, thoughtful.

"Your grandfather the King betrothed us when we were still small children." He replied.

"When you betroth me, will I also be that close to my wife?" He continued, and his father nodded.

"Yes. You will beget your offspring together and prolong your lineage." His father said.

"Will I also feel pleasure from her closeness as you feel it with my mother?" He asked uncertainly. His father pressed his lips together and scratched his chin, tense.

"I don't know."

His answer sent a cold shiver down his spine.

"I want to have a wife like you, Father. I want to love her." He whispered, thinking about Alyssa, about what he felt when he heard her light laughter, when saw her smile full of warmth and sympathy.

She was full of understanding and joy, always eager to listen to him and his, in his mind very adult, problems and musings.

It seemed to him that his father's breath had become louder, but he didn't dare look at him.

"I can't promise you that."

He squeezed his eyes shut at his words, unable to stand it any longer, warm, burning tears running down his face. He felt like a little child, but there was nothing he could do about it, because he was suffering.

"How am I going to be a King without a Queen to worship and love? How will I make you proud if I feel lonely and weak next to her? I want to be able to love someone just like you. I don't want to be alone all my life like I am now."

"You are not alone."

"I am alone. For you, I am only the effect of your pleasure and the relief of the Kingdom. You love only my mother. You see only her. You trust only her. You look only at her."

"That is not true. I watch over you even though you don't realise it. I am trying to make you strong so that the crown, when it is finally placed on your head, will not crush you. You are my first-born son. We have awaited your birth like a miracle." His father said. He shuddered when he felt his hand on his head, and then his strong arm drew him close, letting him cry into his chest.

He stroked his hair and his back the way his mother always did, feeling him place his forehead on the top of his head.

"I love you, but I cannot be weak in front of the court. You will understand me when you become king and father yourself." He said, and he nodded, snuggling into him tighter, his strong arms giving him the feeling that he was safe, that nothing threatened him.

"– my son –" He said in a way from which he felt warmth in his heart, pride and acceptance, the closeness of a man who in his eyes was closer to gods than men.

"I will not fail you, Father."

Rhaenys

Between looking after her first-born son and bearing her husband another child, she had to focus on helping him create the Small Council from scratch. According to her mother's will, they were both to be equal rulers as regents, and her uncle did not give the impression of being humiliated by this fact.

On the contrary, he relied on her advice and opinion more than she expected.

"Daemon cannot become the Hand of The King. He is too unpredictable. We need someone who is calm and composed. Putting your mother or my brother in that position could lead to further divisions, which we don't want. The person who takes over this role should be as neutral as possible." He said, pacing around the room, immersed in his thoughts. She sighed heavily, stroking her slightly rounded belly, inside of which her second son, Aegon, was growing slowly.

He knew he was made for long disputes about the role and amount of taxes, armies, harvests and all the needs of the kingdom, analysing it for hours on end, however diplomacy was not his domain and in this aspect he left a wide berth to her.

"The Queen Who Never Was. She will take neither side. Let her husband remain the Master of Ships. Let Daemon be, as he was in your father's reign, the Master of Laws – a sign of our respect for tradition, a tribute to King Viserys, who betrothed us. Let Borros Baratheon have his place according to your agreement so that he does not undermine our marriage. He is a stern and honourable man, so let him take charge of our treasury and become the Master of Coin. Let my mother and your brother be honorary members of the Small Council, without function, of equal position."

She said, spreading out comfortably in her chair. Her husband hummed under his breath and nodded, as if he recognised that, indeed, what she was saying was logical. He stopped in half a step, looking blankly at her abdomen.

"Pillows." He muttered more to himself than to her, as if he had realised something.

She raised herself up on her elbows and blinked as he took some from their bed and walked over to her, sliding them under her back for her comfort. She smiled involuntarily at his subconscious concern.

"I am grateful to you, husband."

"My mother insists that Criston Cole remain a member of the Kingsguard, but only as her sworn protector. I have decided that Ser Harrold Westerling should be reappointed Lord Commander in his place." He said, running his fingers over her lower abdomen, swollen from his legacy.

She nodded her head at his words.

"Yes. Ser Harrold is a man of honour."

They looked at each other for a moment, somehow surprised at the ease with which they had come to discuss this.

The prospect of building the Kingdom anew and the perspective of argument and tension frightened them, they were, however, closer to each other than ever.

With the birth of her third son, Daeron, the entire Red Keep breathed a sigh of relief, resolving the last remaining tensions between the Black and Green factions.

Her son refused to leave her womb for a long time, tormenting her for hours, but finally, with the help of Alys, who had come from Dragonstone especially to accompany her through this ordeal, her dark-haired son, came into the world.

The entire court rejoiced in the thought that their three sons secured the line of succession.

It seemed to her that the Red Keep was now divided into three parts: in one, the most representative, intended for the King and Queen, she resided with her husband and their three sons; in the second lived Daemon, her mother, their sons and Joffrey; in the third resided Alicent, Aegon, Helaena and their children.

The first meeting between Alicent and Rhaenyra after the pact was established in the Great Sept was full of tears. They locked themselves alone in one of the chambers to speak to each other about everything that had happened over the years.

The fact that Aegon had condemned his grandfather to death meant that both Daemon and Rhaenyra endured the presence of his family with understanding, however they each ate their suppers separately.

They, as part of the conflict to bring peace, also ate alone, accompanied by their little sons.

Viserys was a sweet and curious child – as soon as he began to speak, he immediately began to demand that his favourite books with large, colourful illustrations depicting great dragons and kings be constantly read to him.

Aegon, however, was a stubborn and expressive: he voiced his opinions and displeasure loudly, knowing, however, where the limit of her and his father's patience lay.

Daeron, on the other hand, was a smiling and joyful infant, laughing loudly whenever he saw the faces of his brothers above the cradle tickling his belly with their fingers.

"He makes such funny sounds out of himself. Like a little puppy." Aegon said.

Their life was happy and peaceful, and she felt that she could finally breathe and have a little rest from the hardships of carrying a child.

And then, a few months after that very difficult delivery, she fainted in the throne room, losing control of her body, falling numbly to the ground.

When she awoke, she immediately smelled his familiar scent, his broad hand stroking her head.

She lifted her eyelids and saw that he lay beside her without his eye patch, his hair loose, only his shirt and breeches on his body. He was lying next to her on his side, his other hand holding a book lying on the bed between them, absorbed in his reading.

He shuddered and looked up at her as she touched his chest.

"– Rhaenys –" He whispered, closing the book, placing a warm, lingering kiss on her forehead.

"– how are you feeling? – you fainted –"

"I know. I think it's the weather. It's been so hot today, my head has been spinning since this morning." She whispered, smiling warmly at him, wanting to comfort him with the thought that it was nothing too severe.

The look on his face and the way he swallowed loudly made her feel uneasy.

"That's not what made you feel this way, my love. It's…" He began, but fell silent, pressing his lips together. She realised after a moment what he meant, a shiver of fear and discomfort ran along her spine.

"So soon?" She mumbled, her eyebrows arching in disbelief. Her husband lowered his gaze, heartbroken.

"Yes. Forgive me." He muttered. She clamped her lips together as he covered his face with his hand and drew in air loudly, as if trying not to cry. "I knew you endured it badly this time. I knew it, but I didn't think it would happen so soon."

"I know. I know." She said, pulling his head towards her, allowing him, as he always did when he was scared and tired, to snuggle his face between her breasts and take solace in the embrace of her arms.

She could hear his loud, broken breath, could hear him sniff with his nose, his broad hands clenched on the material of her nightgown at her back, seeking comfort.

"– Rhaenys –"

Although by the next day her sadness and fear had vanished, replaced by joyful anticipation of what their next child would be like, her husband still remained withdrawn and thoughtful, clearly feeling remorseful towards himself.

His openness in her presence resulting from their bond and understanding remained only in the sphere of their marriage: in her husband's eyes, she was a person whose behaviour and needs he understood perfectly, with whom he knew how to speak, around whom putting his thoughts into words came easily.

Having witnessed daily his directness and lightness in conversation at her side, the change that occurred in him was all the more striking when anyone else joined their company: his mother, his brother, some lord or even their own son.

Her uncle was deeply affected by what a heavy burden and responsibility Viserys had to carry on his shoulders. He saw himself in him: quiet and withdrawn, filled, however, with her empathy and sensibility, making him more thoughtful and sensitive to someone else's hurt.

Her husband feared that the crown and what it carried with it would crush him: he did not know how to strengthen him, make him a man without breaking his spirit.

He feared nothing more than that he would become like his father: insensitive, blind to his real needs, to his cries for help that his son could not articulate.

How similar they were didn't help them communicate: her uncle cut his discomfort with harsh, short sentences, while Viserys shut himself away, terrified of his coldness.

"He is afraid of me. I can see it in his eyes." He told her one day, undoing the buckles of his tunic, wanting to lie beside her in their bed. She looked at him with worry, stroking her rounded abdomen and swallowed quietly, lowering her gaze.

Father does not love me.

"I fear that he sees himself in your eyes as a disappointment. He cannot understand the source of your harshness and distance, which I know is due to nothing other than your fatherly concern. Nevertheless, he needs to hear a few warm words from you for once in his life." She said pleadingly, looking at him as he lay down beside her, sighing heavily. He shrugged his shoulders, pulling the eye patch off his head, throwing it carelessly somewhere on the floor, frustrated.

"What should I tell him? That I'm proud of him? That he will always be my son? He shouldn't be king if he's such a fool as not to understand that without my affectionate words." He said dryly, a clear discomfort and pain in his words, his jaw clenched in a rage whose reason she did not understand.

She stared at him dully for a moment, stunned.

"Can you hear yourself, uncle?" She asked at last, and he looked at her with a sharp, warning look that told her to be careful of her next words.

"He craves your appreciation like a thirsty person craves water. But not only that. You are his father, and he does not know you, does not comprehend your person, your behaviour."

"Good. Does he need to understand everything? It's for his own sake."

"In your mind it's easy because you know what drives you. From his perspective, you are a cold, raw stone. He told me today that you don't love him. That you don't love any of your children. That you love only me. You don't even know how much those words hurt me and I know they hurt you too, but gods, he is your firstborn son. Have an honest conversation with him. Do you think he will ever come to you for advice or support when he feels weak? He will be ashamed, he will fear your wrath and he will drown in his own despair." She said in pain, feeling a squeeze in her throat.

Her husband looked at her with clenched lips and she noticed in disbelief that his gaze was exactly the same as hers.

He wanted to cry because of what he had heard.

She pressed her forehead to his cheek, placing her hand on the place beneath where his heart was beating, and he stroked her arm with his fingers, swallowing hard.

"What he said tonight, during supper. When he suggested that you should rest. He hurt me with those words. I felt like my own son was rebuking me. As if I were a bad husband and father." He whispered in shame – she shook her head, placing a warm, moist kiss on his cheek.

She felt him twist his face, sinking his nose into her hair, his hand hugging her waist and drawing her closer to his body in a natural need for closeness.

"He doesn't understand it. He only sees my tiredness during the hot days, the pain in my back, hears my screams when I bring his siblings into the world. He doesn't know what happens when we're here, alone, or the reason for it. Just as we didn't know it when you told me you wished to have seven children, just as there are seven gods."

Her husband accepted her words in his heart, and she hoped that with this, he and their son would finally speak honestly with each other.

Apart from that, there was one more thing that was occupying her mind – his Name Day.

Her husband did not like to celebrate this day because of unpleasant memories from the past and she wanted to change that at last. She knew that he despised pompous, grand feasts and dances, so she had no intention of giving him a surprise that would make him unhappy.

She did, however, want to give him something completely different.

A written and lavishly illustrated book on the history of Aegon the Conqueror and his two wives in one gigantic volume, bound in red dyed leather decorated with gold, made especially at her request.

She wanted to give him something that would delight and move him at the same time, ordering the scribe to put a quote on the first page from the philosopher and poet, Areon, whose book she had borrowed from him that day when she kissed him for the first time.

Turn behind me, companion

see if I am at your side

The darkness frightens me

but you are like a torch

with your light I will not die

In order for the surprise to remain a surprise, the request could not pass directly through her hands, hence she asked one of the guards for help, which, however, proved to be a big mistake on her part.

She thought at first that the man's open and eager approach was due to his friendly, warm nature. He agreed to help her and reported to her what stage the work was at, assuring her that the book would be done on time.

The first worrying signs began to reach her consciousness when she noticed that Ser Brandon was looking at her while he was guarding the chamber during the Small Council meetings in a way that made her uncomfortable.

She feared that he had perceived her proposal in an ambiguous manner thinking that it was merely an excuse to get close to him.

To her horror, his surreptitious, shameless glances were noticed by her husband.

"– are you fucking him? –" Her uncle asked as soon as they crossed the threshold of their chamber, grasping her cheeks in his fingers warningly, his eye wide in rage, making cold sweat run down her spine.

"– n-no – never – I –" She mumbled, feeling that her heart was pounding like mad – she moaned, surprised, as his swollen, wet lips pressed against hers in a hot, aggressive kiss.

"– I'll kill you if you lie –" Her growled into her mouth, his slick, moist tongue forcing its way again and again down her throat with quick, impatient, furious clicks as he made her retreat towards their bed with every step.

"– I swear, husband –" She exhaled wearily and squealed as he pushed her onto the bed, making her fall onto her back. He stared at her as if completely mad, breathing heavily, undoing the buckles of his tunic with aggressive swipes of his hand.

"– undress –" He hissed furiously, throwing the material of his garment to the floor, pulling his shirt off his chest, ripping his eye patch from his face a moment later. She nodded her head quickly, feeling her heart in her throat as he climbed onto the bed, placing his knees on either side of her body.

Whenever he was terrified he spoke in this dramatic way, as if he wanted to show her that her betrayal would be the end of his and her life.

She couldn't help how much it aroused her, his desperation and how much he needed her, his feigned aggression only for her to soothe him, for her body to reassure him that he was wrong.

She tried to untie the bonds of her gown as quickly as she could, however, it was not easy – her husband paid no attention to the delicate knots at her sleeves and literally ripped the fabric off her in a gesture that was more animal than human.

"– uncle –" She whimpered pleadingly as his hot, swollen lips pressed into hers again with his loud groan of pleasure and rage, her hand sliding lower to the material of his breeches, finding his hard, throbbing erection beneath them at last.

"– fuck – spread your thighs wide – that's it –" He breathed out, and she obeyed his command without a word, watching with excitement as the black leather material slid down his legs, leaving him wonderfully naked, just like her.

She cried out loudly, clasping her hands over his bare buttocks and back as he immediately stretched her swollen opening on the fat head of his erection, a low, helpless sigh escaping from their throats.

"– A-Aemond – mghmm –" She cried out, trying hard to fit in what he was forcing her to take, his manhood pulsing all over deep inside her, betraying how close he was to fulfilment, how aroused he was by what had just happened between them.

She, at his mercy.

She began to moan when he immediately imposed a fast, sharp, aggressive pace on her, his hips rolling to the rhythm of her body, thrusting again and again deep between her warm, leaking folds, despite the initial difficulty welcoming him with ease.

They both lost their temper, falling into a complete frenzy, their naked, sticky bodies slamming against each other with loud splats of their shared moisture.

"– do you like the way he looks at you? – hm? – do you think I don't see him following you with his gaze? – dreaming that it is his child that you are carrying inside you? –" He hissed through clenched teeth, gripping her cheeks again with his fingers, the thrusts of his hips teasing again and again the little bud inside her made it difficult for her to gather her thoughts: she was only able to look at his face, his lips parted in lust, his gaze filled with rage and love at the same time.

"– n-no – no, uncle –" She mumbled out with difficulty, her breath heavy as her fingers tightened on his naked, sweaty shoulders, her puffy nipples rubbing against the skin of his chest with his every thrust making the tension in her lower abdomen slowly reach its peak.

"– no? – maybe I should gouge his eyes out? – if he doesn't know he's a fool, that he has no fucking right to desire you –" He growled, pressing his forehead against hers, panting into her mouth, their hips coming up to meet each other in a desperate attempt to achieve fulfilment, her hands clamped down on his buttocks, again and again guiding his soaked, fat erection deep inside her.

"– Aemond – Aemond, Aemond, Aemond –" She cried out, tilting her head back, feeling a sudden wave of hot, tickling pleasure and relief surge through her nipples, through her lips, the tips of her fingers and her little cunt, which began to squeeze him greedily, her legs crossed over his back, refusing to let him pull away.

Her husband let out a low, helpless, almost animalistic groan and reached his peak inside her, filling her silky insides, clenching around his twitching manhood, with his seed. He fell on top of her after a moment without strength, his hand stroking her cheek hot with emotion.

"– it's not your fault – he's been watching you for weeks –" He whispered, placing tender, gentle, moist kisses on her face.

"– I swear to you that he is already… –" He sighed and froze suddenly, his body tensed in her embrace.

"– hm? –" She asked sleepily, struggling to open her eyes, trying to calm herself down after what she had just experienced.

"– fuck – Viserys –" He muttered horrified, pulling out of her quickly and grabbing his breeches, putting them on his legs.

"– what? –" She asked, rising up on her elbows, not understanding what had frightened him so suddenly, only noticing after a moment that the door to their chamber was slightly ajar.

"– has he seen us? Aemond, don't do anything foolish, don't shout at him! –" She called after him in despair as he put on his shirt in a careless, quick motion and left their chamber, closing the door behind him. She pulled her nightgown over herself, stroking her swollen abdomen with her hand, thinking about what to do.

After many minutes that felt like an eternity she became impatient, scared and tired, wondering why it had taken so long, whether she should go there and react.

She jumped up in her seat, feeling her heart in her throat when finally her uncle returned to their chamber, pale, his eye wide open. He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed.

"We were just having a conversation. Like father and son." He assured her, seeing the look on her face as he headed towards their bed, laying down powerlessly on the sheets.

She immediately moved towards him, laying down beside him, pressing her forehead against his exactly as she had when they were children.

Her husband rubbed the tip of his nose against hers.

"You were right. It helped. He opened up to me and I opened up to him. I feel lighter." He whispered quietly, as if he was telling her his embarrassing little secret.

She smiled involuntarily at his words, placing her hand on his back.

"I'm so happy."

Her uncle hummed at her words, a gleam in his eye that she knew all too well.

"I also paid a short visit to the guard who finds it so pleasant to look at my wife. We discussed this… matter properly." He murmured, tucking an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear, causing a cold, wonderful shiver to pass through her.

"It turns out he's very attached to his two eyes."

314 notes · View notes

a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin · 3 months ago

Text

Idiot

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI (18+ only)

Genre: Angst/Smut

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Tags: Heartbreak, Oral Sex, Hookups, Fucking your crush's brother, Bickering, Creampie, Slight Themes of SA, Sadistic Sukuna, Sukuna is his own warning, Female Reader, Hair Pulling, Painful Sex, Hate/Revenge Sex (sorta), Complicated Dynamics

Wordcount: 4.6k

Yuuji- your crush of two years- was dating someone else. The news was like a slap to the face. Honestly, though, you should have expected it. He was sweet, kind, and a little dense in an endearing way. He’d caught your eye the moment you two had met and hit it off, becoming fast friends. Your affection had grown into something more, but you’d tried to take things slow, not wanting to ruin your friendship.

You'd lost your chance... but Sukuna had gained one.

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The parking lot on the side of the bar was full of cars and litter, the latter of which you kicked at with a foot as you plopped onto a bench thrown haphazardly against the outside wall as an afterthought. The air was still and warm, inky blackness above hazed out by the light pollution of the city, obscuring all but the brightest few stars breaking through. The noise of the bar you’d left moments ago leaked out into the streets that were alive with the nightlife of downtown, tangling into a comforting cacophony. It would have been a perfect night if not for the bitter memory that was replaying over and over in your head as you tugged on your earrings- a self-soothing habit that had appeared the moment you’d pierced them.

“I heard you’re dating someone, Yuuji.”

Your friend’s face lit up in excited bashfulness as he grinned, ducking his head shyly. You’d nearly choked on your drink, holding a napkin to your face as your visage filled with disbelief and thinly veiled horror. Yuuji pulled out his phone to show a picture of the lucky girl, which only twisted the knife in your chest, but you smiled when he turned to you.

“She’s very pretty!” you forced out, beaming a little too widely to cover the stricken look on your face.

“Yeah,” Yuuji agreed, “She asked me out a few months ago and we’ve been dating. I finally asked her to be my girlfriend yesterday and she said yes!”

And now you’d lost your chance.

You’d made up a lame excuse about stepping out for some air, leaving the crowd of friends and mutual acquaintances behind to find your thoughts and breath outside where it wasn’t as suffocating. You didn’t smoke, but tonight you wished you did so you would have something for your mouth to do aside from pull into a tight line as you held back the dam threatening to break.

In retrospect, you had no place to be so upset with the way things had turned out.

You’d dropped hints, which became more and more obvious over time, until you felt like you had been parading around with a sign saying, “please date me, I like you”. You’d even been teased by a few of your friends, but you were determined to have him notice and ask you out. If you’d just been direct with Yuuji and asked him out like his girlfriend had-

You grimaced at the nausea welling up at the word “girlfriend” and “Yuuji’s” in the same sentence. It left a sour taste in your mouth.

“Your face is going to get stuck like that.”

You whipped your head towards the figure that had appeared nearby, standing on the far side of the bench. For a brief moment you thought it was Yuuji, heart fluttering, before your eyes caught on the dark tattoos lining the angular jawline. Your hopeful face fell a bit upon realizing it was Sukuna, Yuuji’s elder brother. The two could be identical twins with their pink hair and similar features, except that Sukuna sported tattoos across his larger frame and had the exact opposite personality of his brother. Whereas Yuuji was sweet- basically sunshine personified- Sukuna was barbed with sharp words and held an aura of danger, issuing a threat and a challenge with his narrowed eyes and cocky demeanor.

How the two were related was beyond you.

“And?” you finally found your voice and replied to the man, sighing and leaning back. “I don’t care.”

“You should, since you won’t get a guy with that kind of attitude.”

You scowled at him. Sukuna barely talked to you when you hung around Yuuji at their apartment, so why was he picking on you right now?

“Who says I’m trying to get a guy?”

Sukuna scoffed.

“I’m not blind. I know why you’re out here.”

Your heart fell into your toes and your shoulders pulled up towards your ears in shame. Of course Yuuji’s aloof yet observant older brother would have picked up on your little crush. Yuuji seemed to be the only one who had missed it apparently, if those pitying looks you’d caught out of the corner of your eye earlier had been anything to go by.

“He’s an idiot,” Sukuna continued in the absence of a reply.

He leaned lazily against the brick exterior of the building; his leather jacket slung over one shoulder in the heat of the night. Why he even brought a fucking leather jacket was beyond you. Probably because he thought he was “cool”. You scoffed a little to yourself, bitterness oozing through all your emotions.

You couldn’t deny he looked a little cool…

“Whatever,” you mumbled, resting your chin on your palm.

“You’re seriously moping about your little crush not getting your piss-poor attempts for flirting through his thick head?”

“Are you trying to pick a fight?”

You pushed yourself up to cross your arms and glower at Sukuna. He sure knew how to get under your skin, even if you’d only really seen each other in passing.

“You’re the one getting all bent out of shape over Yuuji getting a girlfriend,” Sukuna laughed, and it grated on your nerves. “Which is pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

“Pathetic?”

Sukuna grinned, leaning over you. The way he held himself, the way his eyes lit up with delight at the way he’d forced you to crane your neck up at him, the way his words needled you: it all felt like he was toying with you. It pissed you off. You narrowed your eyes.

“You can’t even ask some kid three years your junior out, of course it’s pathetic.”

He leaned down until there was only a hairs breadth between your noses. He was so close you could smell his cologne. If you hadn’t been focused on burning two holes into his skull you might have missed the way his eyes flickered down to your lips for a fraction of a second. It caught you off guard.

“Bold words from someone who probably wouldn’t be able to get a girl in bed if he begged on his knees.”

“That’s because I don’t beg,” Sukuna’s lips pulled back to reveal sharp canines.

You resisted the urge to shudder- whether from fear or a thrill you couldn’t be sure.

“Too bad,” you cocked your head to the side. “You’d look good on your knees.”

The words coming out of your mouth surprised you a little. Usually, you kept thoughts like those to yourself, but your tongue was loose tonight and you couldn’t find it in you to give a shit.

Sukuna’s smile widened alongside his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he appeared almost gleeful. The strength of his gaze pinned you in place while his words prickled along your spine.

“And here I thought you’d be boring.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

This time your eyes flickered down to his lips briefly.

Sukuna intrigued you. You hadn’t bothered to pay him much mind aside from cordiality when he was around, which he seldom returned. Your focus had been on being head-over-heels for Yuuji. Now, you took the time to take in his wide shoulders, flinty red eyes, and- holy shit was he wearing acrylics? The black, claw-like nails tipping each of his fingers drew your attention as he shifted his jacket to the other shoulder, still crowding himself into your personal space.

“So you just put on an act to appeal to my baby brother?” Sukuna asked.

You crossed your arms, looking away. You took a minute, trying to decide how to phrase what you wanted to say in a way that wouldn’t have Sukuna laughing at you. No matter how you diced it, it still sounded stupid to say out loud.

“I just toned-down things that I thought might… make him uncomfortable or scare him off.”

The man snorted, this time slipping his arms into the jacket he was holding instead of shifting it again.

“If you have to hide yourself to make yourself palatable, then how is the other person supposed to know if they actually like you?”

You hated being lectured by Sukuna, but he was right- not that you’d ever give him the satisfaction of knowing you agreed.

“So we should all be prickly and annoying like you?” you shot back.

“Is that what you think of me?”

You looked him up and down, feigning disinterest as he curled one side of his mouth up. You resisted the urge to slip your hand along his jawline, to run your thumb along his bottom lip.

“You have a habit of picking fights and teasing people. I’d hardly say that’s endearing.”

Sukuna’s hand darted out to grab your chin, tilting it up towards him while he looked down his nose at you, head cocked. You didn’t rip your face away, waiting to see what he would say next and relishing in the way his hand felt against your skin.

“I never set out to be endearing, sweetheart,” his words were condescending, but the gravelly undertones made you curl your toes inside your shoes as you wet your lips. His thumb rested lazily on your chin, and your mouth had moved before you could properly think, swallowing his digit.

Sukuna’s eyes widened as they locked on your lips, your tongue laving delicately around his sharp nail and caressing the pad of his thumb. The taste of sweat and skin was sweeter than the alcohol you’d ingested earlier, and you wondered if perhaps you were a little drunk to be enjoying the look on Sukuna’s face as much as you were. You released his finger with an audible pop, eyes still locked onto Sukuna’s.

“Is that how you wanna play it?”

Your insides shivered at his low register. Sukuna threaded his hand in your hair, grabbing a fistful close to the scalp and using it to guide you forcefully through the parking lot. It should have scared you, but for some reason the wires in your brain got crossed and filled you with excitement. Sukuna released your head from his grip, throwing his leg over a motorcycle (okay that was definitely cool) and gesturing for you to hop on.

“No helmet?” you asked, sliding on behind him.

“Do I look like someone who’d wear a helmet?” Sukuna scoffed.

You didn’t have time to answer as something heavy was shoved over your head. After reorienting yourself, you realized it was indeed a helmet. You found purchase around Sukuna’s waist and chest with anxious fingers as the engine roared to life. Sukuna noted your frantic grasp, and the engine revved several times, the vehicle jumping forward in speed until you were clinging to him for dear life as the two of you sped down roads, weaving through traffic.

The asshole was enjoying it.

You realized now why he wore a leather jacket in the middle of summer as a chill dragged itself across your bare arms in the wind whipping by. City lights smeared into each other, leaving a kaleidoscope of colors and shadows to play in your vision as you hunched against Sukuna’s body. Terror gripped your chest as you engaged muscles you didn’t know you possessed to grip onto whatever you could with all your strength. Even through the fear, you noted how lithe Sukuna’s body felt under your fingers. You wondered how it would feel without fabric blocking your skin from touching.

You must be insane.

When the ride came to an end, Sukuna had parked in front of his and Yuuji’s apartment. You fumbled the helmet off while he dismounted, setting it on the empty seat in front of you. Sukuna yanked you from the vehicle with one hand, barely letting you catch your balance before dragging you up the stairs. When you didn’t move fast enough, feet tripping over each other, he hauled you up with one arm, throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. An undignified squeal left your mouth before you could help it. You scrabbled to reorient yourself as Sukuna came to a halt in front of his apartment door. Your struggling was rewarded with a sharp slap to your ass, leaving your face burning with humiliation.

What if a neighbor saw?

The squeal of a door opening drew your attention. Inside the apartment, Sukuna slammed the door behind you two, swiftly moving to his room. You were thrown unceremoniously on the bed, bouncing twice from the force. When the brief dizziness subsided, you looked up at the man still standing at the edge of the bed. He had stripped off his jacket, tossing it aside onto a chair somewhere nearby.

“You seemed pretty intent on putting on a little show earlier,” Sukuna leaned forward, resting his hands on the bed. “You all bluff or what?”

Bluff? You wanted to scoff. You didn’t start something you wouldn’t finish. Besides, you had some skills up your sleeve you figured Sukuna didn’t think you possessed- he obviously thought you were some goody-two shoes lovesick idiot. You kicked off your heels, pulling your hair up and retying it out of the way as you got up on your knees.

“Oh?”

Sukuna’s voice was amused. He still thought you were bluffing if his tone was anything to go by. He probably assumed you had seen a porno where a girl had done the same thing. Probably assumed you were a virgin.

Bastard.

You weren’t as inexperienced as he believed you to be. You may have been three years younger than him, but you had slept around a bit. Honestly, you wondered how many girls he pulled anyway with his brusque demeanor.

Your hands worked at his pants as you slid off the bed to get on your knees. Sukuna was already hard, his dick resting heavily in your hand as you pulled him out. He had nothing to be ashamed of, and you started mentally tallying how long it would take you to adjust to him and be able to get most, if not all, down your throat. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be gentle even with someone who wasn’t experienced, so you prepared yourself accordingly.

“It ain’t gonna bite ya-” Sukuna’s eye roll was cut off as you licked a stripe from the base of his dick to the tip. He hissed, digging a hand into your hair.

You didn’t dignify him with a reply, too occupied with pressing kisses and kitten licks to the hot skin. You even branched out and kissed the crease where his thigh met his hip, biting at it gently. You could hear a huff of laughter above you.

“I ain’t your lover, no need for all that.”

You were getting sick of his little commentary and swallowed the tip, enjoying the way it forced Sukuna to grit his teeth against a moan. Pulling off you glared up at him.

“How about you shut up and let me do my job,” you dug your thumbnail into his hip, leaving a crescent shaped mark in its wake.

“Didn’t take you for a feisty bitch,” he pulled your head back by your hair.

You couldn’t help the quiet whimper escaping your throat. As much as you wanted to snap a reply, you returned to kissing the skin of his dick, purposefully avoiding the head. He deserved to suffer a little. You could tell he was getting impatient; the hand in your hair was twitching. You dragged your tongue along his length with an excruciating slowness, listening to the way his breath hitched above you.

“If you don’t fucking-”

You enveloped his dick in your hot mouth, effectively cutting off all complaints as you switched from slow and tantalizing to a measured pace. You swirled your tongue around the head, pausing to pay extra attention to the underside of the head. You head bobbed, taking in more of his length each time you went down, gauging your gag reflex with each stroke. You were good until the last inch or so, feeling your throat and chest seize up as your airway was cut off as you went down. You pulled off completely to catch your breath, risking a glance up at Sukuna.

The sight went straight to your core.

Sukuna’s eyes were lidded, face flushed with pleasure, and mouth parted as he panted. There was a conflicted look on his face that quickly morphed into a scowl when he realized you were looking up at him.

“Did I say to stop?”

You couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto your face. He was acting like a petulant child- a brat. You wrapped a hand around his dick- still slick with your spit- and began stoking languidly, smiling sweetly up at him.

“That’s not how you ask for things you want, is it?”

“You’re a fucking tease,” Sukuna growled, shoving your face towards his dick with the hand still buried in your locks.

“I know,” you pressed a kiss to the tip, still stroking him. “Now why don’t you ask nicely?”

Sukuna hauled you up by your hair, pressing a vicious kiss against your mouth, teeth catching on your lips and drawing a bead of blood. Your body was forced onto the bed, his arms caging you in. His breathing was labored enough to prove you had an effect on him, which pleased you.

“Like hell I’ll beg,” he clamped down on the juncture between your shoulder and neck.

You bit back your groan of pleasure as a thrill ran over your skin. Your body was stripped of clothes in an instant, his hands holding your hips in place as he situated himself between your legs. He didn’t bother checking if you were wet, or to even attempt any kind of foreplay. You narrowed your eyes.

“Well I can see why you can’t keep a girlfriend,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

Sukuna paused. He looked irritated.

“What the hell makes you say that?”

“You think one kiss and a hickey makes a girl wet enough for you to slide in?” you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Especially since you aren’t wearing a fucking condom and I doubt you have lube laying around.”

Sukuna didn’t have the decency to look ashamed, his frown growing wider.

“Well what the fuck do you want me to do?”

“You could try finding the clit, but I doubt you’d be able to,” you flopped down onto your back, disappointment heavy in your chest.

You didn’t know why you’d expected a selfish asshole to be able to please a woman, but you thought he had to know at least a little. You were feeling shitty enough as it was with how the night had gone down, and you probably wouldn’t even be able to get off.

You jumped a little when a hand brushed over your neatly trimmed curls, Sukuna’s thumb bumping against your hood. A whine escaped your throat when he gently pulled it back, sliding across your sensitive nub.

“What was that about not finding your clit?”

You did your best to scowl at him, but his thumb was moving in paced circles, leaving you squirming.

“Shut up,” you bit out. “If a girl has to tell y-ah!”

Sukuna was a touch clumsy, but it wasn’t bad by any means. You lost yourself in the sensation, the coil in your stomach starting to wind as you felt the need to be filled growing stronger with each pass of his finger.

“You wet enough now?”

The words drew you back to the present and you looked at Sukuna, eyes lidded. You were placated enough to nod, watching as he lined himself up. He held no qualms when it came to shoving himself in, not giving you time to adjust. Your back arched and your fingers dug into the dark bedsheets, teeth gritting against the sudden intrusion. There was no time to catch your breath. Sukuna set the pace hard and fast, short cries leaving your lips with each thrust.

The man had strength and stamina, you had to admit. His grip on your hips left red marks from how hard he held them. The drag of his length against your insides had your eyes rolling back into your skull.

God, it had been a while since you’d been fucked hard and fast like this. Even when you did hook up with someone, it was usually over quickly. Sukuna showed no signs of slowing and hadn’t blown his load in the first few pumps, which was a win in and of itself, but you were growing more and more impressed as he manhandled you over onto your hands and knees.

“Fuck, and here I thought you were a virgin,” Sukuna grunted as you keened, back arched and ass pressed back against him. “But you’ve-nngh!- obviously done this before.”

Your face was buried in the mattress, but you turned your head to the side to look behind you at the tattooed man rearranging your guts with a gaze split between irritation and debauchery.

“You think a virgin could’ve sucked your dick like that?”

Every other word was punctuated with a gasp as he hammered into you with ferocity. He didn’t seem to like your back talk, shoving your head back down into the sheets and angling himself deeper until your muffled cries turned from pleasure to borderline pain. You tapped frantically on the arm holding your head down, but were ignored. The repeated assault on your cervix did nothing to make you feel good, instead causing painful cramps with each thrust.

Sukuna finally relented, flipping you back over. You were pissed off, face contorted into anger.

“That hurt,” you hissed, kicking at him.

“Don’t be so sensitive, Christ,” Sukuna grabbed your leg and hauled it over his shoulder. “Just take it like a good little whore.”

The tone he took only made your irritation grow, and you tried to kick him off with your other leg, which was quickly commandeered as well. Sukuna folded you back over on yourself, legs over his shoulders.

“Stop whining and just enjoy it,” he snapped at you. “God, I wouldn’t have brought you back if I’d know you’d be this picky about how you get fucked.”

His nose was brushing yours now as you faced him. Your frown and lowered brows were mirrored above you in Sukuna’s features. The snap of his hips against yours grew pleasant again now that you weren’t in pain, and the frown disappeared as your lip snagged between your teeth in a muffled whimper.

“Better?” Sukuna asked sarcastically, although you could tell he was holding back a moan.

“That feels good,” you conceded, trying to sink back into the pleasant feeling that had eluded you earlier.

“You’re prettier to look at when you aren’t bitching,” Sukuna panted, lowering his lips to yours to cut off any indignant reply.

His lips were hot against yours, tongue invading your mouth with insistence. You replied in kind, nipping at his lower lip.

“And you’re not half bad when you aren’t being an asshole,” you breathed when the two of you pulled back.

“That so?” Sukuna snapped his hips against yours.

The choked off cry that left your chest seemed to please the man, and he repeated the action. Each moan was like honey in his ears.

Yuuji really lost out on this girl, Sukuna grinned, biting the soft skin of your inner thigh.

Since the moment you’d started showing up at the apartment to hang with his brother, Sukuna had his eye on you. Your obvious crush on Yuuji had irritated him. Yuuji was just so fucking dense. The kid wouldn’t have noticed you wanted him if you’d splayed yourself out on his bed in lingerie. Sukuna had half a mind to tell his brother, but found he enjoyed watching you struggle to get the attention you so desired. Besides, if Yuuji rejected you, that meant that he wouldn’t see you around anymore, and Sukuna hadn’t liked that idea. But Yuuji started dating someone else, and that left you hung out to dry. Sukuna had wondered how long it would take for the news to spread and your heart to be shattered.

Maybe he was a shit person for waiting around eagerly to see you slink dejectedly out of the bar so he could sink his teeth into you. You’d taken his bait, and even seemed interested in him.

Women with broken hearts were easy to snag.

But you’d thrown him for a loop. The demure, shy girl he'd witnessed yearning for his brother was nowhere to be found. You were demanding, argumentative, and gave him shit. Normally he wouldn’t have entertained the kind of behavior you’d thrown at him. His own pride and stubbornness lent him to toss out anyone who didn’t just comply, but he couldn’t bring himself to make you leave even after your scathing comments about his supposed incompetence in turning you on. He reluctantly gave into your desires, although he couldn’t help his sadistic streak when it came to punishing you for the words you’d cut him with. He reveled in the way he could silence your complaints by drowning them in pleasure.

“S’kuna!”

Hearing his name paired with the way you clenched around him had Sukuna gritting his teeth in an attempt to stave off his impending orgasm. Your legs had gone rigid, shaking with exertion as you writhed against him.

Sukuna, in an uncharacteristic act of kindness, moved his hand down to your clit, carefully flicking it with his finger while you held back a wail. Your coherence was quickly disappearing the closer you sped towards your release, and Sukuna was determined to have you finish first. Amid the panting and groaning, through the haze of his mounting ecstasy, he heard the front door rattle as it shut.

Yuuji must be home.

Sukuna couldn’t help the wolfish grin that spread over his features as he redoubled his efforts. Your cries grew louder as your back arched and his name fell from your pretty lips, crashing into his ears with a sweet whine. The second he felt you spasm around him, Sukuna was unable to hold back any longer. Your insides were painted with white, Sukuna still thrusting into you through it all as curses flew from his mouth.

Your chest heaved, covered by a sheen of sweat in the receding afterglow, Sukuna’s body still enveloping yours in a crushing embrace. He rolled off of you when you whimpered, tapping his shoulder. The air in the room was crushingly hot and humid. Sukuna pulled his boxers on, immediately heading to the door. He didn’t even give you time to cover yourself before he flung it open, crossing his arms and raising his brows.

Yuuji was standing in the hallway, rooted to the spot with a flush across his entire face, whether from being caught eavesdropping on the situation, or for some other reason. His eyes were the size of saucers, mouth agape as he stared past his brother at where you lay, suddenly snapped back down to earth and reaching for something to provide you with a modicum of modesty.

“It’s late, you should get to bed,” Sukuna didn’t bother to even close the door a bit to block Yuuji from looking in, as if he was gloating.

“W-why is Y/N-”

“Because,” Sukuna’s face filled with malicious pleasure. His chin lifted so he could look down his nose at the horrified face of his younger brother. “You're an idiot, and I’m not.”

#jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen #reader fic #sukuna x reader #jjk smut

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fairiesdowntheroad · 1 year ago

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SHE LOVES CONTROL ; prologue.

summary — being a woman is difficult.what about being a woman who is pursuing a career in motorsports? you would be met with pandemonium.that was the story of her life.always having to fight for a place among the big leagues ; in this case the men just to prove she belonged in the sport.

her last name didn’t help her much either.the world would continue to bark and bite away at her confidence — even more so if they knew of her family ties.that was the reason why she chose to race under a different name,everyone would respect her so called “underdog” story after all.

the drivers were….alright to say the least.she knew of their prying eyes and judging stares when she had first made her appearance on the grid.thankfully,there were a few diamonds in the rough to help her out.for now,she just needed to prove herself to everyone ; quench her hunger for victory.this was going to be a wild season..

pairing — f1 22-23 grid x fem driver!reader,love interest tbd

warnings — misogyny.

teaser | prologue | chapter 1

FROM J ⛅️ : hello everyone!! the prologue is here <3 it’s just a little teaser to Y/N and her character,also her friendship with albonoooo 😮‍💨 she’ll interact with the other drivers soon,don’t worry! please lmk your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

“Who run the world? Girls! Y/N Y/LN to race for Formula 1 — establishing her place as the first woman to race in the big leagues since Maria Teresa de Filippis”

“Do women really belong in Motorsport? What makes Y/N Y/LN so special?”

“A recipe for disaster: Y/N Y/LN’s Formula 1 debut and what it could mean for the future of motorsport”

Headline after headline.

Articles either criticising her every move or stating their unwavering support for her.

She read each and every article published about the news — eager to know how the world would react.A part of her already made peace with the reality that there would be people reacting terribly towards the news ; let it be a man or woman.The men simply viewed her inferior to the other drivers,commenting on how her biological capabilities were “leagues away” from the other nineteen…..just because of what was between her legs.The women on the other hand were possesive…thinking she would steal away their beloved drivers because she definetly was the only female presence on the paddock.

It was humorous really,how a mere woman wanting her career to align with motorsports could cause such an uprise of reactions among everyone.

Her eyes scanned over the headlines again and again.Laughing at the things they had to say.She found the articles scrutinising her every move amusing — it was ironic how they perceived her as ‘unworthy’ of a seat.

Yet,she did beat everyone else in Formula 2 in terms of points…claiming her place as the champion.

Becoming the champion of Formula 2 was a tough fight.She had stayed there for a few years,giving it her all to stand above all with victory — and she did in the end.Did they hate her because she was victorious? Or was it because she had rightfully earned her place among the others? She would never know..not like she wanted to anyway.

“You haven’t even had your debut,yet you’re causing an uproar on the internet” he hummed in amusement standing next to her while he observed her reading the words on her phone.His british accent was hard to miss as she chuckled along with him.“I think it’s admirable” Alex added on with his voice filled with sincerity.A bashful smile made its way on her face,flattered and touched by his words.

“That makes me a little more hungry to prove to everyone I belong here” she admitted with a chuckle.She was eternally grateful for the little support she had coming from him and her family…though she was more discreet when it came to the family part.He placed a hand on her shoulder squeezing it softly.

“You will.” he nodded his head,patting her back before making his way to the car.Her nerves buzzed with excitement ; her last race as a reserve driver.A few more months,and that seat would be hers.She felt remorseful for Latifi because he lost his seat…but it would be her turn to take on the mantle now.She would take his place since he didn’t perform.

That was Formula 1.

A sport dependant on results.If you didn’t deliver, it was best to kiss your seat goodbye.She could only cross her fingers and pray the 2023 season was kind to her.She needed the team to see her results….see her effort.There was no way she worked her ass off just to quit now.Thankfully,James Vowles was there to see her worth.She had caught his eye — he was watching her races in Formula 2,undoubtedly raising his expectations with the performance she served on the track.

It was only a matter of time until she was offered a seat,he was unwilling to let such talent go to waste.

Williams.

Not her first choice for a team when it came to making her debut but — she was eternally grateful she had a seat regardless.It was also a step closer to Mercedes….even if she didn’t want aim to race with them.

Not when he would be there.

BAHRAIN 23’ : THURSDAY.

“How do you feel about making your Formula 1 debut this Sunday?” the reporter asked curiously as he jotted down notes in his journal.The two RedBull drivers on her left and right turned their heads to observe her,eager to know what she had to say.

“It’s definitely nerve wracking — I’m feeling quite nervous to be honest” she admitted with a shy smile.Max and Checo chuckled softly at her words,the 2-time world champion nodding in understanding on how she would feel.

“But…I feel excited as well.I want to prove to everyone that I deserve to be here just as much as the others.With Williams and Alex supporting me,I hope I can do exactly that” she finished her sentence,putting down the mic as fans clapped at her answer.It was diplomatic ; she was biting her tongue and choosing not to express her true feelings.

If she had the right to be a 100% honest there would be a lot more of….colourful words being spoken.

The fans were definetly a plot twist.Hearing them cheer for her was heartwarming.She still did recieve her fair share of hate,but she would “focus on the positives” — just like dad advised.He was all the wiser when it came to motorsports anyway.

”Well Y/N,I hope the season treats you well.You’ve already made a name for yourself so I’m sure all will go smoothly”the reporter replied to her,the girl smiling bashfully and thanking him for his kind wishes.

The press conference ended after a few more questions being thrown here and there.She walked over to the managers with a pep to her step while maintaining the calm expression on her face….even if her heart felt like it was about to burst.Alex stood there as well with small smile gracing his face.Her first press conference as a Formula 1 Driver! It was a milestone to her.

“You did amazing” Thea — her newly appointed PR Manager said with a smile.She chuckled softly,taking the water bottle she was offered with for a sip.Her heart screamed with excitement,adrenaline coursing through her veins even if it was only Thursday.There were three more days for her to impress everyone.

She shaked off her train of thoughts with a smile.Opening her mouth,she answered with a cheeky response.

“I hope I can do the same on-track then”

taglist — @eutrizbea @eugene-emt-roe @ivoryluvs @itsjustkhaos @lewisvinga @kodzuvk @roseseraj @iliyad @laura-naruto-fan1998 @l0verl4ne

#formula one #f1 fic #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader #oscar piastri x reader #carlos sainz x reader #pierre gasly x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader

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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

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viii. leave me on red

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eight of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. smut - phone/text/video sex. angst. dont hate the jo.

word count: 3.6k

an: the hugest thanks to @thetriumphantpanda for not getting mad at me for doing this to them.

You decided it in the minutes after he left, you were going to tell him.

Back pressed to the door, head resting, eyes closed. Tears stinging in the edges, burning. Your breath all strained and difficult—that is, until it decided what it wished to be, anyway.

Then, it shifted, transformed. It morphing into a sob that rumbles and cracks, shaking its way through you until your knees plead to crumble to the floor.

Because you had wanted to chase after him. Even ring him. Beg him to come back.

It wasn’t until you climbed back into bed, letting the scent of him wash over you, did you commit to the idea.

That’s when you begin rehearsing it, letting it move from rolling around your skull to dripping from your tongue. You did so as you made food, as you did chores. Perfecting it, choosing words so cautiously and carefully, swapping them out, practising it until it becomes a thing typed into a piece of your soul.

I’m in love with you Frankie. I have been for a while.

You don’t expect it to rival the greatest poets, and won’t find a place amongst the greatest scripts to ever be. It won’t be a speech that’ll be copied and used in film. But it’ll matter.

It will be meaningful.

It’ll have weight and carry truth—and you suppose, when all is said and done—that’s what will matter. It’ll be out there, free, existing—swirling between the two of you instead of caged inside of your chest.

Once you’ve spoken it, it should calm the storm inside of you; should quiet the choppy waves that collide within you, each one attempting to do more than knock you off your feet, but grasp you by the ankles and drag you under.

Confessing it, should do a lot of things. But that doesn’t bring you any comfort right now. If anything, it makes you feel sick, feeling only thorny anguish which keeps you up at night.

Never before had you been thankful for booking vacation time.

A chance to be, to sit around your home and pretend you don’t want to find a way to get to him, tell him it all now, let it unspool, even with no hope of it being the same as it ever was.

Because you could lose him. Ruin it all. Taint the one thing you cherish above all else.

It’s why you turn it over. Letting it worm its way from a box of doubts to a fully-fledged car crash you replay over and over as you lay in bed, fingers twitching, chest tightening, jaw clenching.

It’s only on the third day since you had made the decision, that you decide to share your plan with another soul.

Doing so over the phone—only one name came to mind. As soon as she answered and you spilt, you were greeted with only a joyous tone, it all full of pride. Your friend who is all knowledgable and wise, being nothing short of a cheerleader. Saw it coming, she tells you, been waiting for you to wake up and smell the coffee. You bite your inner cheek, doing so until copper swirls around spit, because you’ve known too (something you want to tell her). You’d been carrying it around for longer than realisation had been bestowed on her.

It’s easier not to say it. Swallowing it, letting it die in a pit of stomach acid, where other things you never say go to erode.

“Any advice?” you’d asked.

“Just be honest.”

On day four, you had gnawed the skin from your lip. It's sore, practically pulsing. It has its own heartbeat from how raw it feels.

Your nerves beginning to get the better of you, swarming and piercing, pecking away at your earlier confidence—stinging it with doubts, ones which spread, all poisonous, swelling out until it’s all you can feel.

His texts help.

One day I’ll get you back up in a heli. Only if I can sit between your legs like last time. Can sit anywhere you want, baby.

You’re not sure how it’s possible that miles away he can make your day better and your pussy clench around nothing all at once. Your body missing him—just as much as your head, heart and soul. Thighs pressing together, all your earlier thoughts popping like bubbles as you read his words over, and over, and over. A whimper grows in the back of your throat, hammering on the back of your teeth to be released.

Flicking your eyes up, you catch your appearance in the mirror.

The way your skin is just lightly sheened with the droplets from your shower—having been in a rush to reply than dry yourself. So much so, the air tinged with the scent of your shampoo and body wash. It’s thick, and heavy, your skin warming under the effect of his words making it more prominent, evident.

Smirking, you slide your hand until it undoes the robe of your dressing gown—letting it gape, the cool air brushing over once warm skin, until it pebbles, the peaks of your nipples hardening as you take a breath, and snap. There, immortalised, you stand—positioning your phone, ensuring the camera cuts off your eyes, beginning at the base of your nose, capturing the white of your teeth against your bottom lip, the white robe hanging, parted, framing the bare skin under it.

And you don’t think, you just send.

No caption, no message.

Just the sound of the whoosh as your heart hammers, beats, and thumps in the milliseconds it takes before you see the speech bubble of his reply.

Fuck, baby. Wish you were here.

Bending down to kneeling, you shimmy the fabric from your shoulders—pooling it in the creases of your elbows. Positioning yourself so your hand can be seen perfectly between your thighs, keeping yourself hidden, just a fraction. You ensure your breasts are on show, arm shifting to push them closer together, before you smirk—no, you think. Shifting your expression to a smile, a little one, which grows bigger and larger just as you click the shoot button.

It begins, a slow-motion capture of your disrobe, of you seating yourself down on the floor in front of your mirror, taking instruction through his texts—positioning yourself like a doll. The last being on your rear, soles flat to your carpet, thighs spread, head back as your neck elongates.

You’ve never felt more beautiful, even exposed. Eyes don’t linger on the things you usually pick apart first thing in the morning, before you dress for another day, and they don’t linger on the parts you catch in the corner of your eyes before you shower. You just see radiance, shadow-kissed skin that is being bowed to through a screen.

Fuck you’re gorgeous. Can see how wet you are. You need me, baby? Always, Frankie.

Your finger sliding along your inner thigh, tips brushing over before parting your folds. It won’t be enough, he’s ruined you—made it impossible not to wish for him, crave those thick, long fingers that both keep things hovering in the air and you hovering over space, time and existence.

“Frankie,” you moan, to no one but you.

Curling, sinking deeper until—

Can I call you?

You don’t reply, you just call. The distinct sound of a request to video echoes around the room as you slow your ministrations, a low whimper escaping as he connects, as his face fills the screen that's cast to the side, his own view of your ceiling.

He says your name, quiet, more questioning. Your trembling hand moves, picking it up as the other remains buried deep inside you, lifting your phone, giving him a view, a taste, a sight.

“Tell me what to do,” you whine.

Watching him as he drinks as much of you in as he can, commits you to memory, skates his eyes over every pixel, not wanting to miss a single one, before he clears his throat, before he carries you in his phone to his bed.

Licking your lips, you release a breathy sigh—one that begins in the depths of your stomach, rising up and fluttering out. Almost carrying a moan as you find that spot inside of you, the one which makes you boneless, thighs threatening to tremble.

“You want me to keep my fingers—“

“Faster,” Frankie stammers, “Want you to move those perfect fingers a little faster for me. Think you can do that?”

Nodding, you roll your lips, heat washing out over you, gripping the phone tightly.

“Fuck, baby. Y’know how good you look right now?”

You heave out his name. It building, fanning out over nerves that tingle at the edges of you—making your fingers curl, heel of your palm catching the swollen bundle of nerves that makes the sound of what you’re doing that much louder, filthier, more obscene.

And you fucking love it.

Love all of this.

Love him—

“Wish I could bury my face between your legs—“

“—oh, shit—“

“—y’like the sound of that, querida?”

Your eyes flick to the screen, staring at him—a pang in your chest flooding outwards, it mixing with how much you wish he was here, desperate for it, half-wanting to beg him to get his ass over here and make a mess of you in front of your mirror.

“Touch yourself,” you say instead.

Swallowing back the rest, letting your head fall back, obscuring him from view as you slow your movements, teasing, edging yourself as your core twists, and electricity thunders in your veins.

“Want—fuck—wanna come with you.”

“Alright baby,” he says—as if it’s the most normal thing, as though anything the two of you are doing is normal. “Let’s do this together.”

You hope it’s not the only time he’ll say that to you.

Days drag when you clock watch. Hours take even longer.

It’s a thing you know, but you can’t help but do so all the same. Each time you check, you hope it’s closer to the time. The one marked in your calendar, the one which has been making you both nervous and elated all week.

It had only been when you stopped tidying, stopped moving things from one counter to the other, did you spot it—eyes land on it and never leave.

You're not even sure when he left it behind, but your eyes linger on the corduroy jacket near your door. It’s moss-green, hanging, growing in the corner of your eye and borrowing more of your attention than it should. You’re sure it grows vines, ones which tap on your shoulder when you’re able to forget it’s there, only to make you look over, and spot it all over again.

The worst thing about it, it looks like it's supposed to be there. As though the hook you had expertly hung, (correction: hammered a nail in and hoped for the best) was always meant to hang his things, be dedicated to it.

In truth, he acts like he’s supposed to be here.

Fitting, even if you’d never made a place for him outside of being his friend. Now, you see the outline of him, perfect cut out, a drawer which could host the bolts and bits from his pockets, the shelf which he could place his eccentric collection of DVDs from the sleepless nights during storms.

You suppose it’s why it continues to catch your eyes, your gaze lingering on it—knowing, without brushing your fingers against it or burying your nose into it, that it smells like it. That, in its own way, is spreading out that calming effect he has.

One you need now more than ever.

Hand wrapping around the handle of the knife, chopping, preparing. Eyes studying the recipe that is ingrained in you, one you could do with a timer and your eyes closed, but you need to stare at it, to read the handwritten notes and pretend for a second it’s not something you used to make for him all the time.

Before the rule, the one he made you agree to because you’d asked something from him.

Now, you just snort. Adding the ingredients to the pot, turning the heat down, as a soft simmer begins before you wipe your hands down on your towel. Because in time, you’d broken all of them, both for one another and for yourselves.

And that had to mean something. Had to be more than a coincidence or something that just was. It had to be underpinned by unsaid words and swirling emotions neither of you feel equipped to handle, yet feel more prominently than you know what to do with.

You make more of an effort in your clothes. Not for him, for you. A thrill sparks through you when you catch sight of yourself when you pass a mirror, catch yourself in the reflection of a window, your television. Because you look like someone who could confess your feelings, let your adoration be known. You feel like someone who will do it, can do it—a confidence which has been coming and going since you’d decided.

It’s only when you lay it all out (the glasses, the plates and the cutlery), does a stitch begin to appear in your carefully thought-out plan. One that digs, the needle-sharp, pointed, aiming to prick and make you bleed, smear across perfection and make it ruin. A thing you put off, able to argue with it, point out its stupidity.

Tonight could be the last time you see him.

Maybe, this thing the two of you had was all he had wanted—all he’d needed. Not an overbearing amount of emotions he can’t handle or begin to understand.

A thought you try to squash, shove down deep inside.

That is, until the bigger hand pushes the smaller one on, and it begins to create a hole inside your chest. It forming based on that earlier thought. That dread, that worry and concern which has been thickening in the back of your head for weeks now. Now, it's grown out of the walls you kept it behind. It widens with each passing minute until it’s close to an hour and it’s practically a sinkhole. It taking everything it can with it—happiness, courage, laughs and the smiles. Vanishing them, wiping them clean like they never existed, as every bit of wanted you had felt, was painfully plucked from you, tweezed until you were back to that horrid place you were before all of this began.

Except now, you felt too much. Unsure if you’re able to put a cork in it, trap it under just want him to be happy and content at being friends.

A sob escapes, just a little one.

But, it’s enough to widen the door. Allowing more of them to bubble up and appear, climbing forcibly up your chest as though they’ve been building a ladder and plotting their escape for the last few minutes.

Each rolling out, freeing, bursting into the air. Your body racked with them, trembling, shaking.

Your hand finds refuge on the counter, stabilising you, keeping you from falling into the hole of your own making. And your thumb brushes porcelain, the neatly displayed food you’d spent hours on, a declaration all on its own.

A—see, I broke the rules too, Morales—except, he hasn’t come. Hasn’t arrived.

Maybe he’d known. Maybe he’d decided that it was all too much, standing you up easier—you supposed it was much harder to face the person you’d been best friends with and break her heart to her face.

But, your Frankie would never do that. Except he isn’t yours, not really.

Even less so as time ticks far past running late into the zone of stood up.

And you feel dumb, stupid. A gnawing sensation growing in the place your love had once been, it twisting, tainting, painting everything it can in ruin and staining it in the disappointment you never thought he’d make you feel.

“Fuck,” you choke out, hand clasping your face.

Fresh tears, acidic and thick, hammer down onto your cheeks like a downpour. Layering on top of one another, blurring your vision, making your chest feel both heavier and lighter all at once.

Grabbing your phone, you don’t even think—unlocking it, finding the contact and clicking Message.

Are you free for a drink?

You should consider it, go to bed, wake up tomorrow and bury your feelings in something healthier like yoga or a walk—but you send it. Discarding your phone across the counter, it clattering, catching on the plate as you bury your face in your hands.

Tears, hot and thick—running down your wrists—not doing enough to numb you as you let them fall. Disbelief doubles as hope is swallowed whole, your throat filling with sobs you feel forced to let spill—etching their way into the silence, fracturing it, cracking what should be laughter, but is instead loneliness.

It’s why you’re thankful they reply with a yes, giving it no more thought as you blow out the candle in the centre of the table, ending the night before it even began.

Frankie wakes to darkness.

It’s a comfort, the way it blankets him, allows the little shadows to rest easy against the ceiling from his open curtains—it is all soothing, relaxing. It even almost allowed him to curl back into the comfort of his sofa. His blanket—the one you bought him—cast over the lower part of his legs.

Then he remembers.

Eyes widening, blinking furiously as he throws his legs from the sofa, hand grabbing—making all sorts of noise on his coffee table—until his phone screen illuminates and he sees the time.

Late it spells.

It all a blaze, just in the form of numbers.

Fucking late it bellows.

Disorientation wraps around him as he shoves himself up to stand, fingers tugging at his curls until he imagines they’re more frizz than defined. Not even thinking—just grabbing. Phone, keys. Shoes barely on his feet as he yanks open his own door.

Calling you.

It rings. And it rings. Each unanswered drone of it doing something to the fragility of his heart. Making it quake, crackle at the edges.

All week, he’d done nothing but think of you. Think of holding you, burying himself close against you, not even asking you to shed layers, but rather just lying with him. Take in the weight of you that he finds all but a comfort.

I love you, he had planned to whisper. Mark it against your neck, just under your ear. Write it against your lips if you let him. Burn it anywhere else until you’re nothing but tattooed in praise and adoration.

“Pick up, baby,” he mumbles.

Ringing you again in the car.

The drive over tense, silent—the occasional dial tone echoing around the bed of his truck. His knuckles whiten at each red light, shoulders practically under his ears when he pulls onto your street. Something knotting, all horrible, riddled with vines and sharpness that cut into him with each breath he takes.

He’s not sure if he should be worried or thankful your car is in the drive—because the house is plunged into darkness. His boots clatter against your wooden steps, hammering on the short porch as he cracks his knuckles against the door.

Its echo, comes back to him—able to travel around in the silence and come back with an answer.

You’re not here.

But he knocks again, and again. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, something clenched around his stomach, tightening and tightening as your name falls, all pleading, an edge to it that he hadn’t known was possible. But then, he hadn’t known he could begin splitting down the middle, the seams coming undone, his own might and willing not able to keep him together as the realisation he’d fucked up the one good thing he had.

The one good thing he didn’t even really have, too cowardly to tell you—too fearful that you’d stare at him blankly and tell him you don’t feel the same.

Because he’s been drowning in it, in this, in you, for so long, he knows how to just about keep his head from going under. He had been sure he could do it for longer, could stem his feelings, push them down. Until, you slept against him, fitting perfectly.

Until he woke with his arm draped over your waist, your leg tangled in his, staring at him with wonder and awe as you traced your name on his back.

He should have told you then it was the best thing he’s ever woken up to. A sight he had only dreamt of, but never imagined could even be true.

Pushing your key into the door, he’s greeted by darkness. It hovering its hand to him, welcoming him, even if the cold chill of the place was more than unsettling. He wanders, feet almost dragging, half hoping to find you sat in the dark, because at least then he could begin to make it up to you.

You’re not.

Moving through to your kitchen, all set to pass through to your bedroom, when something makes his eyes pull to your table, and he sees it.

Eyes landing on the set-up, from the plates to the glasses, to the orange dish in the centre—and his heart drops to his feet. It landed with a squelch, a thud which vibrates through him to the tips of him.

You made him food.

You broke a rule. You broke the rule.

His eyes beginning to well up, stinging, until one falls.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

Letting his hand run down his face, staring at his favourite meal—unable to unsee how congealed it was, how long it’s been sat there, existing, waiting.

“Fuck.”

an: forgive me 😘

CHAPTER NINE ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales smut #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #jo: iltwy #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

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tyunzonlystar · 1 month ago

Text

Run away with me?

Choi yeonjun

Genre: smut, strangers to fwb to lovers, non-idol au

Warnings: non!idol au, brief mention of abuse, daddy kink, semi-public sex, mentions of bullying,fwb to lovers, slight dirty talk, blowjob (m!receiving), robbing a bank, fake names (yj is called “jungwoo” for a scene, making out, marking, fingering (f!receiving), eating out, (f!receiving), slight spit kink, cum eating, p in v, squirting, dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, unprotected sex,lmk if I forgot anything!!

Word count: 1.8k

Ending is rushed and I could only add ten pics so that’s why the dividers are only at the end not proofread either😭

Minors dni‼️‼️‼️‼️

It all started back in the third year of highschool. He had seen you crying in the field and decided to approach you.

“Are you okay? Why are you crying? I’m Yeonjun by the way.”

“o-oh…I’m y-y/n.”

“That's a cute name for a cute girl. But why're you crying?”

“I’m being bullied by some guys in the year above me.. A-And they shoved me into my locker and a piece of metal c-cut my back..”

“Let's go to the nurse, okay? And you can sit with me at lunch if you want too..”

“R-Really? You wanna sit with me? At lunch? Where everyone can see?”

“Yeah! I mean I don't have any friends and I'd like you to be my friend.”

“Okay! Thank you, Yeonjun.”

And that's how your friendship began! Then college came around and you guys realized that you only had each other and nobody would approach you two since you were both loners and never got invited to anything. So one day he had invited you to his dorm to smoke weed and get drunk.

3 bottles of vodka and 6 joints later you were both horny and pissed and what else can you do when there's only one other person in the room? Correct! You fuck.

“Oh shit… Jjun…”

“HOLY SHIT! WE JUST FUCKED! AHA! OH MY GOD!”

You were ecstatic. You’ve been in love with Yeonjun since he first spoke to you on that field but you don't know if he likes you back considering he laughed after he took your virginity.

“Jjun do you remember when we first became friends with benefits?”

“Yeah we were high and drunk. Why?”

“Dunno.”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“I’m staying with my parents for the whole week so we can’t hang out until next week. I gotta go n/n.”

“Alright. Bye Jjun.”

“Bye y/n.”

Disconnected.

You were always bored without Yeonjun being around. And now you can't see him for a week! What are you gonna do without him being balls deep inside you four hours before college? What are you gonna do after college without him? You can’t just go to your hangout spot and smoke weed on your own, can you? Who are you gonna rant to about your problems? You can't call or text him since his parents hate you for “having no manners”. This week is gonna drag. He’s your only friend. The one you gossip with. The one you talk to before and after class. The one you eat your lunch with. The one you vape with behind the building. The one who protects you from assholes. And now he’s an hour away at his parents place. You know everything about his parents. Everything. You know that they abuse him. And that's his biggest secret.

Shit.. Is he gonna be okay?

You lay there on your bed overthinking about him. No. About everything. Him, upcoming exams, your own life, your parents. The list goes on.

Hours of tossing and turning every night, unable to fall asleep without Yeonjuns ‘goodnight’ text. It’s only been 4 days without him and you’re going crazy, snapping at everyone who looks at you weirdly or stares at you for too long, getting angry when your face id doesn't work since your hair is in braids. And now it’s Thursday night. You check the time: 2:06 am. For fucks sake! You tried going to sleep at 11! You have college in less than six hours!

Walking to your kitchen, your phone pings. A text from..

Yeonjun?

What the fuck is he doing messaging you? He never messages you when he's with his parents. Sighing, you unlock your phone and read the text.

“She hurt me again, y/n. I also broke her favorite vase when I fell.”

“Jjun, what the fuck happened?”

“I went to the bathroom nd shut the door too loudly and i fucking woke her up!”

“Do you want me to get a taxi to you and you can come back to the dorms?”

“No y/n. They’ll just come to our dorms and take me back to them.”

“I don't know what else to suggest, Yeonjun.”

“Run away with me?”

“What?”

“Run away with me. Come get a taxi and go to the park around the corner from my parents. Bring bags for like 3 outfits, money, food and water to last us, weed, vapes and a hair brush and dry shampoo.”

“Okay. I’ll be over in an hour.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say to the taxi driver before getting out and running over to Yeonjun who’s sitting on the swings.

“So.. Where the fuck are we gonna go?” You ask as you sit on the swing next to him.

“Anywhere.”

“What about college?”

“We’ll start a new life. I mean we’re 20. We have our GCSEs and we don't really need college. We’ll figure something out.”

He leads you to a store to buy burner phones so that nobody can track you down.

“Just fucking throw it!”

“But it’s an iphone!”

“Do you want people to track us down, y/n?”

“No…”

“Then fucking throw it!”

You groan loudly before throwing your phone off the cliff into water

“There’s an abandoned car park somewhere around here.”

“We’ve been walking for like 4 hours, Jjun. And we’re in the middle of nowhere. I don’t see any fucking car park.”

“Shut up. It’s near. Stop fucking complaining.”

“Stop talking to me like that.”

“Like what, sweetheart? Does it turn you on?”

“Jjun, stop it..”

“See! I told you it's near!”

The car park looked like a dump. I mean it was expected since it's abandoned but there's no other building on site other than run down convenience stores and like two clothing stores. Makes no sense since there's no houses or anything for miles. It’s fine for the time being.

“Oh shit, baby.. Keep going…making me f-feel so good..s-such a good girl..”

You look up at him through your lashes as you take more of him down your throat, gagging around his length. He throws his head back at the overwhelming pleasure building in him.

“Shit. Shit. SHIT! FUCK! Baby, im so close..shit…so fucking close.. You wanna be a good girl for daddy, don't you?” You pat his thigh twice as a signal for yes.

“Then can you swallow daddy's cum like a good girl?” He lets out a low moan as he shoots his warm load down your throat.

“Daddys good girl aren't you?” “y-yes..”

It’s been three weeks since you and Yeonjun ran away and god knows if anyones bothered looking for you. You both ran out of money so you couldn't buy any more food or water but Yeonjun had a so-called ‘smart’ idea.

“What?! I’m not robbing a bank with you! If we get put in jail we can’t fuck or gossip!”

“Pleaseeeee! We’ll dye our hair and we’ll rob it with masks on and make ourselves look bigger than we are by putting on a fuck ton of layers!”

“Fine.”

“We’re also gonna need fake names.”

“Okay uhm is ‘F/N’ good?”

“Yeah. and call me uhm Jungwoo.”

“Yes, sir.”

“RUN! FUCKING RUN!”

“I AM RUNNING!”

“YES BUT NOT FAST ENOUGH!”

“I CANT RUN ANY FASTER JUNGWOO! I'M 5'5 REMEMBER?!”

“F/N, I DON’T CARE HOW SHORT YOU ARE JUST RUN FUCKING FASTER!”

You never thought you would rob a bank with your best friend yet here you are counting money.

“450,267,934.”

It was $450,267,964 but you bought hair dye. $10 on bleach since Yeonjun had red hair, $10 on pink hair dye for you and another $10 on black hair dye for Yeonjun.

“There's a house a few miles away for sale so we can buy it.”

“We’ll have to give them rent though.”

“Not if we buy the house to own it.”

“Ohhh. Okay let's go!”

“Sit still.”

“It burns, y/n!”

“Shut up, it's the same brand I used when I dyed your hair red.”

“Now you sit still!”

“You're so rough!”

“Yeah, but you like it rough, don't you sweetheart?”

The shower looked like a unicorn murder scene with your pink hair dye mixing with the water along with Yeonjuns black hair dye but it turned a pretty dark pink color.

“Can you wash my back, Jjun?”

“I guess so” He sighs dramatically, adding a petty eye roll into the mix as he slowly rubs the shower gel over your back. His hands slowly grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your eyes widen as you feel his hardness pressing against your lower back.

“Jjun…”

“Please baby…”

You softly sigh, knowing you can't say no to him and his naturally pouty lips. You both quickly wash out the conditioner and wash off the soap from your bodies and the text thing you know you're pressed up against the bathroom door, Yeonjuns tongue invading your mouth. Yeonjun grips your thighs and carries you to your new shared bedroom before throwing you on the bed before his lips attack your neck, biting and sucking softly on your flesh.

“mm…Jjunie…please..” You whimper quietly.

“Please what, baby?”

“F-Fuck me..please..need you s-so bad..”

“Good girl.”

Yeonjun kisses down your chest, leaving splotchy marks as he praises you every now and again. He looks up at you through his lashes as he settles between your thighs before his tongue peeks out to taste your wetness.

“You taste so good, baby.” He groans, the vibration against your clit making you squirm. Yeonjun nuzzles his face further between your thighs, his nose bumping against your clit as he sloppily makes out with your dripping hole.

“Jjunie-” And before you can finish your sentence yeonjun shoves 2 fingers in your needy hole, curling and finger fucking you as fast as his arm would let him as you continuously clench around him.

“Gonna cum for daddy, angel?” He asks before his lips wrap around your clit sucking harshly before you can even reply. You moan out his name like a chant as you cum on his fingers. Yeonjun sucks your essence off his fingers before his tongue dives back into your hole, collecting your newly passed orgasm. His thumb presses against your bottom lip waiting for you to open your mouth before spitting your own cum into your mouth.

“Swallow.” “Good girl. Are you ready for daddy?”

“Mhm..please..”

He kisses you harshly as he guides his dick to your hole before slowly pushing into you, swallowing up all your moans and whines. Without warning he was hammering into you, hips slamming against yours with each hard thrust. His hand gently snakes around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your brain go fuzzy with pleasure.

“D-daddy…f-feels so good! Mmphf!”

“Shhh..i know it feels good baby..”

Yeonjun removes his hand from your throat so he can roughly rub your clit, bringing you closer to the edge.

“Daddy! ‘m g-gonna cum!” You whine as you clench around him, making him groan.

“Go on, angel. Cum for me” And with that your vision goes blurry and you repeat his name like a ritual as you squirt all over his cock, your juices dripping onto the bed sheets.

“You did so well for me, baby. Be my girlfriend?”

“What?”

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

“YES! YES! YES!”

Years later nobody found you and Yeonjun after you ran away with each other and you now live a happy life with each other and your two kids <33

#idk what to put #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #yuri writes!!#yeonjun hard hours #txt yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun #txt yeonjun #yeonjun

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