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vettelsvee · 2 days ago

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I'M SORRY, JULIET | Mick Schumacher

Mick Schumacher x Secret Girlfriend Vettel!Reader

SUMMARY: You're secretly dating Mick, both of you hiding it from everyone in your families until you get so happy about him getting his first points in Formula 1 that your father, Sebastian, ends up finding out

WORD COUNT: 2404

WARNINGS: Curse words, mentions of teen pregnancy (age 17 from Seb and Hanna), angst. Settled on 2022 British GP

VEE'S NOTES: I missed so much posting about Mick so I had to bring him back... even that means Seb is the "bad guy" here. Hope you like it and thanks for reading! I'll be waiting for your opinions <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

You hadn’t attended a Formula 1 race for longer than you could remember, and truthfully, you never thought you would again until Mick Schumacher started turning your world pink.

The boy had known you since you were a child, back when you would occasionally attend races hand in hand with your grandfather, Norbert. Your relationship deepened every time you saw each other in the paddock or at family gatherings, and despite the age difference between you, you grew closer and closer until you eventually fell in love with each other.

Even before your relationship began, you were both fully aware of the obstacles in your way. It wasn’t just the fact that Mick was six years older than you, but also that you were the children of two drivers who weren’t just former rivals and friends, but also were like family.

All of that, combined with the inevitable pressure from the press if they ever found out about your relationship, mattered little to Mick. One afternoon in mid-June, when the Schumachers and the Vettels had gathered together, he had decided to confess his feelings for you. At first, you were completely in shock, hearing from the lips of the very boy you had loved for years that he loved you too.

So, of course, when Mick asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend, you didn’t doubt to say yes.

Neither of you cared what others might say because, for now, no one knew about your relationship.

And there you were now, standing in the Aston Martin garage alongside your mother and your three younger siblings, watching the race with great enthusiasm as Sebastian drove the emerald-green car.

To the outside world, it might have seemed like you were simply there for one of the most important days in your father’s career since it was his 35th birthday. But in reality more than watching your father, you wanted to see your boyfriend.

Hanna noticed the tense expression on your face. Smiling warmly and without taking her eyes off Emily and Matilda, who were playing tag nearby, she stepped closer to you.

“Are you okay, Y/N? You seem like you’re in another galaxy.”

Your body tensed at the question, something that happened every time someone in your inner circle mentioned directly or indirectly your secret boyfriend. You tried to hide what was on your mind, but the combination of your mother’s presence and your nerves made you say more than you actually wanted.

“I’m nervous because I want dad to finish in the points,” you said with as much conviction as possible, though it wasn’t enough to convince Sebastian’s wife. “And well… I’m also worried about Mick.”

Hanna raised an eyebrow, curious, but not pressing. She had once been seventeen too. More than that, she had gotten pregnant with you at that age, and she knew that your concern for Mick went beyond simple friendship. Mothers developed a sixth sense when it came to their children, and she knew you too well to be fooled.

“Mick? Why would you be worried about Mick?” she asked, making sure not to pry too much or reveal how much she already knew.

“Well… he’s having a really good race today,” you replied, lowering your gaze to the floor. “I’d like him to get a high position,” you explained, “even though with the piece of crap car he has we can’t expect much.”

Hanna nodded understandingly, reading between the lines of your words.

“I get it, sweetheart. I was the same way with your dad when he started racing,” she said, deliberately choosing her words to make you overthink. “Mick has a lot of talent, but he’s not in a team that helps him shine, so I understand why you care so much.”

“If you ever need to talk about Mick you know you can trust me, right?” Hanna added,

You appreciated your mother’s words, though you remained cautious just in case she was digging for something that might expose your relationship. How naive you were to think she didn’t already know you were dating one of Sebastian’s best friends’ sons.

When the checkered flag waved and the twenty cars crossed the finish line, your eyes remained glued to the leaderboard. Not only had Carlos, one of your best friends, taken his first victory, but both Mick and Sebastian had finished in the points, placing eighth and ninth respectively.

Your father earning two points on his birthday was amazing. Your boyfriend earning three? Even better, especially since it was his first time scoring points in Formula 1. Saying you were emotional was an understatement, and no matter how much you tried to hold it in, a few tears escaped down your cheeks. You wiped them away quickly to avoid drawing attention.

Hanna, still by your side as she fed the youngest member of the family, noticed you approaching with a hesitant expression, as if you wanted to ask something but were afraid to.

“Can I go to Mick’s garage to congratulate him?” you asked cautiously. “It’s his first time scoring, and I’d like to say something to him in person before we leave for Switzerland.”

“I know you’re excited for him,” your mother said while burping the baby, “but I think it’s better if you stay here. It’s your dad’s birthday, and honestly? I doubt Haas would even let you see Mick.”

You nodded, though sadness crept in. You looked at the monitors, seeing the top three drivers already celebrating on the podium. Even from your location, you could hear the Spanish national anthem playing over the speakers.

“Mum,” you tried again, “come on, let me go congratulate Mick. I’ll be back quickly, and I’ll be here by the time dad gets back!”

Your exaggerated gestures and the way you waved your arms were too adorable, and Hanna couldn’t help but see herself in you. She remembered how she had felt when she started dating Sebastian, wanting nothing more than to see him every chance she had. As much as she tried to be the responsible mother, sometimes she just couldn’t help it. This was one of those moments, one where she gave in to the charms of her eldest, the spitting image of her father.

“Make sure you come back as soon as possible,” she relented with a small smile. “I don’t want your father calling me a bad mother for letting his baby do grown-up things.”

“Thank you, mum!”

With that being said, you sprinted off, weaving through mechanics, fans, and celebrities scattered around the paddock. You checked your phone to see if Mick had texted you, but there was nothing. That only made you hurry toward the Haas garage. Seeing it empty, you quickly turned around and headed toward the hospitality area, which was further away. While dodging anyone in your way, you sent Mick a message telling him you were on your way and that you had to be quick before your father returned.

When you arrived, the first thing you saw was Mick soaked in champagne, holding a bottle in his hand. The Haas team members, including Guenther, were celebrating. You felt out of place and your insecurity crept in, making you want to turn around and leave. But then Mick saw you, and the moment your eyes met, you knew you had made the right choice.

Mick immediately broke away from the group and rushed to your side, hugging you tightly. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you, even if just a quick peck, but his rational side reminded him that now was not the place.

“Congratulations, Mick!” you exclaimed, your excitement taking over you. “Oh my God, oh my God! I’m so proud of you!” you squealed, throwing your arms around his neck.

“I finally get to see you, princess. You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to,” he murmured playfully. “Although, I’d love to do a few other things with you.”

Your face turned bright red, something you had grown used to ever since you started dating Mick and were used to hear his endless compliments.

“How was the race?” he asked. “Did you like it, even though I probably looked like an idiot who doesn’t know how to drive?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mick!” you scolded, lightly hitting his arm. “You scored points for the first time. If that’s being an idiot, then I don’t know what that makes me.”

“That makes you the love of my life.”

Mick pulled you even closer, and just as he was about to kiss you, completely ignoring the risks, a voice interrupted.

Or rather, someone did.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Mick Schumacher?!”

As soon as you heard your father’s shouts, you and Mick pulled apart. You stood frozen, your face turning completely pale as Mick began cursing himself. How was he supposed to explain to the man who was like a father to him in many ways that he was dating you, his daughter?

You didn’t stay silent. You, who had a temper as strong as the man who had given her life, stepped between Mick and your father, trying to ease the tension that had formed over a simple show of affection.

“Dad, stop! It’s not what it looks like!” you exclaimed, nervous but determined.

“What do you mean it’s not what it looks like?” Sebastian scoffed, unwilling to believe your words. “Come on, Y/N, you were about to kiss him!”

“Yes, because Mick is my boyfriend,” you stated without hesitation. “We’ve been secretly dating since last month because we didn’t want to say anything just yet,” you explained without caring about the consequences. “So don’t act like this and use your fucking head and be reasonable for once.”

The Aston Martin driver was stunned, unsure how to react to the news that his daughter had a boyfriend, and that it was none other than the son of the man he considered his best friend, who had once been his mentor.

Mick watched as Sebastian looked at you in disbelief before shifting his gaze back to you, focusing all his attention on you.

“Y/N, this is insane… Mick,” he gestured toward him, “isn’t just any driver, he’s the son of—”

“I already know, Dad!” you interrupted, your tone sharp. “And? Does it matter? I don’t care who his father is, or who mine is, or the relationship between you two,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “We love each other, we take care of each other, and that’s the only thing that should matter to you.”

Mick alternated his gaze between father and daughter, finally mustering the courage to say something. But, before he could even open his mouth, Sebastian raised his right hand, silencing him immediately:

“Stop trying to fix this. You’ve fucked up, Mick,” he muttered as he stepped closer, his voice low enough that not even you could hear it. “My daughter is too young, and you know you could get into serious trouble if this gets out,” he added before stepping away and moving back toward you. “ I just sort of saved you from shit talks about you, so consider yourself lucky.”

“You can’t blame Mick for this, Dad,” you interjected defiantly. “We’re adults, and we can make our own decisions, so just leave us alone already.”

“You are not an adult, Y/N Vettel, you’re still a kid,” Sebastian snapped, his voice filled with unfiltered anger. “Stop acting like you are, because all you are is a reckless little girl.”

“Let me remind you that when you were 17 you fucked mum and you got her pregnant.”

You threw it out without thinking, and immediately, you regretted it, placing your hands over your mouth as if that could fix what you had just said. You knew you had been the most beautiful mistake your parents had, but you didn’t think about the impact it could have in their lives, especially in your father’s.

"I'm sorry, Juliet," the older driver began, trying not to let his anger and, especially, the pain he felt from your comment show. "But it's time to leave."

"Dad..."

"Not 'dad' or anything, Y/N," Sebastian said, raising his voice and making it sound harsher than he had intended at first. "Do you think it’s funny for me to see my daughter rubbing herself up against the one I consider my son?"

Mick paled as he heard his mentor’s words, feeling completely awful because he knew Sebastian was right. You threw him a look, but didn’t have the strength to answer. You were so in shock that you didn’t know how you hadn’t just left yet.

"And you, Mick," he said now, shooting a penetrating look at the young man, "I thought you could show a little more respect for our family and everything we’ve built together all these years."

Having said that, Sebastian took you by your shoulders carefully and started walking back to where the rest of your family was, not giving you or Mick a chance to say goodbye.

"We don't choose who we fall in love with, Sebastian," Schumacher blurted out, still frozen in place.

Your father and you turned around. The look of disappointment on Seb’s face made Mick feel a thousand times worse than he ever thought he could, but it was the sight of your tears falling rapidly that made him start crying.

"I expected you, more than anyone, to agree with this," he continued, pointing at you and himself, "because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that your daughter deserves someone good who can make her life the best it can be. If I can’t be that person because you won’t let us..." he pointed at himself, "...then I’ll be okay with it being someone else."

Vettel swallowed hard, not knowing what to say to the German’s words.

"I just want Y/N to be happy," the boy said again, "and if I have to let her go for now until you can accept and see that I’m really in love with your daughter, and that she’s the love of my life, I’ll be willing to do so."

With that, the young man turned around, trying not to look back, hoping to hear some words from those he had considered his family for so many years.

But, unfortunately for him, you and your father didn’t.

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omgfangirlland · 2 days ago

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The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument. Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

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monstersflashlight · 17 hours ago

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I see your rattlesnake naga and raise you electric eel hybrid/merfolk! Electric play… use your imagination… 🎀

A/N: the rattlesnake naga the anon refers to is this one. (If that link doesn’t work try suscribing for free on Patreon and trying this one). Enjoy!

Electric eel-hybrid x fem!reader || electric play (?), tail play, oral sex

Electric eel boyfriend who is scared of telling you what he likes in the bed. But what he’s definitely not expecting is for you to be even kinkier than he is.

You’d been thinking about it for a long time, since you started dating, every time he sneezes or gets really worked up, you can see the sparks of electricity on his tail, and something inside of you is itching to try it… You never knew you’d be into electric play, but every time it happens, the urge inside of you grows and grows.

It takes a few tries to convince him to play with you, but the first contact of his electricity with your body is enough to send you spiraling into pleasure. It feels like tiny sparks against your skin, almost like a massage that leaves you pliant and ready to be fucked until you are dumb. And when he uses it over your nipples, it sends sparks of pain and pleasure mixed into the perfect amalgam of intensity. You get so wet you form a puddle under you.

He’s surer of himself after that, playing with his tail and his electricity over his body as he devours your pussy like a starving eel-hybrid.

And only gets better from there.

He uses it while doing normal things around the house, touching you lightly on the back of your thighs, pressing it against your ass cheek, or even being bold enough to touch his tail against your covered pussy while you are out and about. It’s the best thing that ever happened to you.

And when he finally uses it inside of you, your whole world is rocked. The whole universe moves when he pushes his tail inside your welcoming heat and starts sending little electric-shocks through it. It’s life altering, the way the electricity feels inside of you, almost like he’s fucking you without even moving… Your whole body feels like a live wire and he’s playing all your cords perfectly to get you into a state of desperation and need that has you shivering.

It only takes a few seconds for you to come, and he’s not even moving! And when he fucks you with intent, your brain short-circuits and you can only feel pleasure and electricity, your whole body attuned to his as he fucks you senseless, his dexterous fingers playing with your pussy until you are a mess of juices and orgasms.

Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

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kashverse · 2 days ago

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some say let your hands and fingers do the talking. not like that, you perv! i mean by playing the guitar. what did you think? anyway, when your boyfriend pulls out a guitar, it’s a moment of pure suspense. it can either go very, very good—think angelic strumming, a voice so smooth it makes you question if he’s been hiding a secret record deal—or very, very bad, like an out-of-tune massacre that makes your eardrums file for divorce. there’s no in-between. he’s either serenading you into a nicholas sparks movie, or you’re suddenly trapped in a hostage situation where the ransom is pretending to enjoy his soulful (read: painful) rendition of wonderwall.

ah, gojo. the man, the myth, the self-proclaimed musician. he played the guitar once—once—in high school, butchered wonderwall in a way that made even noel gallagher cringe from a distance, and now he tells everyone he’s a ‘part-time guitarist.’ you don’t have the heart to tell him that whatever note he’s playing isn’t in the known musical scale of this universe. he strums with the confidence of a rock god but with the technique of a toddler discovering sound for the first time. the worst part? he believes in it. “music transcends rules,” he tells you with a wink, completely unaware that he’s transcended harmony, melody, and all known music theory altogether.

then there’s geto. now, he looks like a guy who plays the guitar—cool, effortless, the type to lean against a wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips while plucking out a song that makes everyone in a ten-mile radius fall in love. and technically, he does play. but does he play songs? absolutely not. geto is a man of riffs. he’ll pick up a guitar, pluck out a legendary lick that would make jimi hendrix’s spirit shed a tear, and then… stop. no full songs. no verses. just a 15-second snippet of greatness before he casually shrugs and says, “eh, i never learned the rest.” it’s infuriating. masterful, but infuriating.

choso, on the other hand, is eager. enthusiastic, even. and the shocking part? he’s patient with it, which you didn’t expect given his general aura of broody silence. but the man loves to learn—he already had a thing for keyboards, so naturally, guitar was the next step. and he’s good. so good, in fact, that you have to physically restrain him from playing in front of random people. because let’s be real: if choso sits down with a guitar, strums even a single melancholic tune, women (and men) will descend upon him like he’s the last attractive man on earth. you’re not dealing with that. not again.

does sukuna play the guitar? please. your big, beefy, borderline villainous boyfriend doesn’t do “basic” instruments. he plays the shamisen. yeah, that’s right. while everyone else is fumbling through 'hotel california,' sukuna is out here commanding an ancient instrument with the kind of raw, aggressive technique that could send every mainstream musician straight into retirement. the way he plays is nothing short of feral—sharp, powerful, sending sound waves through your soul like he’s calling forth a battlefield. you don’t know whether to be turned on or to fear for your life. possibly both.

toji, bless his heart, tries. he wants to play the guitar. he knows it looks cool. and, honestly, the intent is there. but here’s the thing—his hands are the size of dinner plates. the pick disappears between his fingers like a lost sock in the laundry. fretting a chord looks like he’s trying to delicately handle a teacup with boxing gloves on. it’s not a skill issue. it’s a size issue. the guitar wasn’t built for a man whose hands could palm a basketball and a toddler’s head at the same time. but he keeps at it, convinced that if he just tries hard enough, one day he’ll stop making the guitar sound like it’s being physically assaulted.

and then there’s nanami, the dark horse. the unexpected legend. you find out, completely by accident, that he plays guitar—not just plays, but plays it well. sings with it, too. every night, he softly strums lullabies for yuuji, an act of pure paternal love that no one would expect from the stoic salaryman. but when you ask him about it? he shuts that conversation down. you don’t get details. you don’t get demonstrations. and you definitely don’t get to see the video of 17-year-old nanami covering ‘pocketful of sunshine’ with embarrassing sincerity. it exists. he won’t admit it. but one day, one day, you will find it.

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bumblehoneybee · 14 hours ago

Note

Heya! This is my first ask I've made actually, across this entire app! I was wondering if you could do something small about the reader getting her period when she gets everyone to her home. And how they would react?

Like- hello??? Your bleeding and in pain??? But not dying????

(You don't have to write it)

-I dunno.. Uh.. Scarce anon?

The Crimson Wave

For what is was worth, your body did its best to take care of you during the tumultuous time that was your stay in the factory. It warned you of what was close to breaking, flooded you with adrenaline when danger was close, and held off on overtly torturing you until you found yourself in a safe place.

Everyone was pretty beat up after all the drama, so the first days in the home were slow, a careful line up of gorging on food and drowning in the shower to finally feel clean again. You managed to keep upright as you fretted over the various guests now living in your home, making sure they were full and clean and safe and sleeping before you finally collapsed yourself.

The house was silent for the most of two days. Then, when sleep was caught up on, you found yourself gradually introducing the toys to their new lives.

Catnap took to the woods, at home in the trees, laying in the sun, chasing the animals (and probably eating them, but you didn't really care by that point). Dogday followed, at least a little, mostly staying in the backyard to laze in the grass and feel the wind on him.

Kissy trailed you around the house when not ferrying Poppy, watching you interact with the others, like she was afraid one of them would strike. Poppy helped soothe her, though, and the pair spent a lot of time sorting through your clothes, trying on things they found interesting, though little fit Poppy herself. You'd have to buy her some clothes later, Kissy too.

Doey was the most skittish, no doubt in a constant battle within his own body. But he did like your TV, the new shows playing, the old ones you could pirate for him. He tried to help you, tried to fret over the others alongside you, but you didn't let him. He had been in charge long enough; it was time for him to relax and rely on someone else.

It was a tentative peace, barely made and easily broken.

It broke when Catnap caught the first whiff of blood early in the morning.

He made a quick round, nosing the others awake as he tried to locate the weak scent. Poppy was quick to help once she understood, going to Doey with Dogday to slowly ease him into the situation, in case he panicked.

Kissy went to you. And found you. Lying in your own blood.

You didn't know Kissy could make such a noise. By the way she recoiled, she didn't seem to know it either.

Kissy rushed towards you, gathering your sleep-addled body into her arms as others soon rushed in. Dogday, upon seeing the blood-stained sheets, immediately started barking orders with such ferocity not even Poppy disobeyed, all rushing out to gather bandages, towels, water, and whatever else Dogday demanded.

Only Doey lingered, peeking around the door, a whine in his voice as he called for you.

"I'm fine." You grumbled, wiggling in Kissy's grasp. "It's normal. I'm not dying, Dogday."

"You're bleeding." He scoffed in return, leading the way towards the nearby bathroom. You were set carefully in the tub, Kissy pawing at your bloody pj bottoms, but you pushed her hands away. "Catnap! The bandages!?"

"I don't need bandages!" You called.

"Angel, why didn't you tell us you were injured!?" Poppy said, rushing in with a bottle of water clutched to her chest. "How long have you had it? Since the factory?? There's so much-"

"I'M MENSTRUATING!" You hollered, so loud everyone froze. You took advantage of their shock, shoving everyone out the door and slamming it behind you.

The ragtag group stood in the hall, listening to the shower turn on and the sounds of your muffled curses as you cleaned up yourself.

"They're. . . not dying?" Doey asked, still stood by the bedroom door. His hands shook, unable to decide what to do, where to go.

"How can someone bleed and not die?" Dogday demanded, ears pinned back. He eyed the bathroom door like he was debating ramming it down to get to you.

"Wait." Poppy said suddenly, clinking when her hands slapped to her cheeks. "Wait, oh god! They're on their period!"

Silence rang for a few moments.

Dogday dropped his head into his hands. "Fuck. . . Didn't even think of that."

"What's a period?" Doey asked. Catnap nudged Dogday's shoulder, but the hound just groaned into his palms. "They're not dying then??"

"No." Poppy sighed, stepping onto the hand Kissy offer her. "Come on. Let's wait in the living room. I'll try and explain it best I can remember. . ."

In the shower, you sighed in relief. Poppy was thankfully handling it, for the most part. You'd be sure to fill in any gaps too, once you were clean.

Still. . . it was nice to see how they cared. Your sweet protectors.

#poppy playtime x reader #poppy’s playtime x reader #dogday x reader #kinda implied kinda #chapter four spoilers #dogday poppy playtime #kissy missy poppy playtime #poppy poppy playtime #poppy playtime #doey poppy playtime #catnap poppy playtime #dunno what else to tag lol

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ecstxsyy · 2 days ago

Text

DIRTY MIND. | VIKTOR ❦

Viktor loves to study.

18+ mdni!

viktor x fem!reader

warnings: oral (f!receiving), i just love men who are munches #sorrynotsorry!, fingering.

cupid’s candy hearts masterlist

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

VIKTOR HAS a brilliant mind, he helped you and Jayce create a way to make magic with science. Without him, Jayce likely would have failed without the two of you. But the brilliance of his mind wasn't confined to just science, the boy was also well-studied on the topic of your body.

He knew every detail, every divet, and crevice of your soft skin. He spent time lying in bed conducting research, venturing to try and find a place he wasn't already familiar with. Your body was like the arcane to him, forever changing and adapting, or at least that’s what he told you while between your thighs refusing to come up for air.

You worried about Viktor a lot and he couldn't tell if he loved you or hated you for it, but you had good reason. He always seemed to forget his limits when it came to sex, he wanted to give you everything he assumed you wanted, but all you wanted was him and that was enough for you.

“Viktor, Jayce is going to kill us. We're so late,” you whined, your fingers intertwining with his dark locks. The two of you were Jayce’s partners at Hextech, he wanted the three of you to present a united front to the board to help seal your plan for a better future.

“I don't care,” came from between your legs, muffled by the skin of your thighs. You and Viktor knew very well that if you really wanted to go support Jayce during his first council meeting the two of you would have left 30 minutes ago. But instead, you were entangled in Viktor’s sheets, curling yourself into them like a serpent from the pleasure.

Viktor’s tongue lapped at your soft cunt slowly, sucking up any juices that fell free. His slim, long fingers were practically at home in your warmth, working into you slowly. Your moans were breathy, full of pure passion and pleasure. Viktor’s other hand played with your nipples, alternating between the two to give them equal attention.

“You taste divine,” the slim boy said from beneath you, humping his erection into the sheets beneath him. The sight made you even wetter, your arousal slipping down onto the sheets underneath you.

You loved the way he got off from getting you off, it drove you up the wall. His fingers work professionally, stroking your g-spot with the tips of his fingers. His touches made your body sing, the intimacy of it all made it a hundred times better.

“I love you,” slipped from your mouth between moans, it made Viktor freeze in place momentarily before he regained his momentum and continued on. He didn't respond but you didn't mind, you didn't expect him to.

Viktor continued lapping at your clit, letting his tongue feel over the small nerve. You were putty in his grasp and he knew that, every flick of his tongue sent your mind spiraling. He felt how deeply you meant what you said, that alone shocked him to his core. He wasn't used to such unconditional devotion.

His fingers worked faster, his mouth wouldn't let him verbalize the words, but he could show it to you through his actions. The speed of his tongue picked up, your clit was overstimulated and sensitive.

“Vik, ‘m gonna cum,” you cried out, your back arching off of the bed as you reached your climax. Shocks of pleasure ran through your lower body as your body bucked like crazy. Your orgasm seemed to last forever, rolling over you wave after wave. You assumed Viktor would be done after that and finally be ready to go to the council meeting, but he had other plans. The movements of his nimble fingers and tongue continued, working against your sensitive core. Your moans crescendoed through the room, another orgasm approaching.

Jayce was going to be furious.

───── ⋆ ⋅ ꨄ︎ ⋅⋆ ─────

#viktor arcane #viktor x fem!reader #viktor x reader #viktor smut #arcane #18+ mdni #smut #nay nay writes viktor !#nay nay’s valentine’s day event !#nay nay writes !

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 days ago

Text

Their Pearl | Yandere Pirates

My response to @sweethoneyrose83's writing prompt about yandere poly pirates. Took me forever but I just had to get it out my system! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“This meetin’s officially called to order.” First Mate Ran is glaring at the scallywags of his Captain’s crew, without an ounce of sympathy for the guilty-looking few, “Seems like y’all have been costin’ us a month's worth of travel delaying our biggest job yet.”

The six pairs of eyes looked anywhere but Ran or the glaring Captain Lu at the head of the table. Some of them didn’t have the decency to look away with guilt but at the wooden ceiling whistling familiar tunes, rocking on the chairs they were leaning in. Ran didn’t know if that indifference bothered him more.

“Since y’all think it’s not worth comin’ straight ta me or the Captain we’ll be goin’ over each of yer fail’res.”

Black eyes scanned the long table, a relic earned on a heist of a Queen’s museum. The history within its worn wooden finish and stone markings was of the infamous pirate band—Deadman’s Collect–a band of pirates that would meet at the table to plan their grandest loots. For a crew descended from the captain’s owned it, collectively they decided it was better off in their hands than in the museum of a royal, who fought for their executions. As it belonged, it was serving pirates once again on a mission to defy the oppressive oligarchy they were forced to live in.

“Looks like you’ll be first—Heine brothers.”

All heads turned to look at the mischievous pair of twins, their silent smiles graduated to smirks Their unbrushed and untamed heads of burgundy hair, fashioned like the manes of the lion statues standing guard in front of the Western King’s palace. Almost indistinguishable from one another there’s Klaus and Kurt—the strong hands of the ship and the muscle in every fight. Despite not always being the first to come up with a plan or scheme, neither needed to be goaded to do whatever it took to keep the crew safe. Usually, that was what they preferred to do rather than be patient and not kill everyone in their path. Their dynamic with the crew was silently loved; always up for a joke, and their overprotectness of everyone, especially the crew’s weaker members. So it was the most shocking for Ran to discover the brothers no longer poking at the prisoner but playing with them.

“In our defense,” Kurt spoke playing with a strand of his unruly hair,” we found the little Pearl incredibly entertaining.”

Klaus giggled diabolically as he thought back to their interactions with the prisoner. Of course, it wasn’t unusual that when there was fresh meat the twins enjoyed torturing them but never would they take it farther than that. But of course, there was something different about the King’s Pearl.

“Getting seasick?” Klaus had taken advantage of Ran’s divided attention to sneak off to the brig, where the most expensive item they’d ever had on their boat was.

“Nope. As the eldest of the North Creston Name, I’ve been on plenty of ships before!”

Klaus chuckled watching them stick their nose up and then stumble as the boat rocked. Checking the narrow stairway down, the redhead tested his luck, looking around for the key to let himself in. Finding it in a barrel out of the cell’s field of vision he quickly unlocked the cell, making its only occupant jump.

“You lyin’ to me aren’t you?”

“W-what? I’m not! It’s the truth!”

His smile dropped, green eyes giving a death glare hundreds had seen before their deaths. Without breaking eye contact he pulled out his favorite dagger, twirling the jagged blade expertly in his hand.

“Y’know what we do to liars, meat?”

“No.”

“We mark ‘em. Make sure the truth is carved into their skin forever,” he held the dagger under their chin making them lift their head so that Klaus could enjoy the fearful expression on their face,” like a tattoo except ours is going to be..much…deeper.”

Suddenly the expression was gone and a look of curiosity remained instead.

“Wait what’s a tattoo?”

What a setup! He could stab them and they’d have their answer, but the tilt of their head despite the dagger less than a hair away let him humor them.

“It’s easier if I just show ya.”

They lit up, moving forward so fast he almost didn’t have time to pull his dagger away. Sheathing it he knelt to their level, pulling back his opened collar more to reveal the marking underneath his collarbone. A gnarly twist of snakes and daggers on a rotting corpse. It was his go-to for torture; the well-known marking striking just as much fear if not more than they were already experiencing.

“Wow,” their eyes were wide and their mouth open,” does it hurt at all?”

“Ha not really I don’t–” he was going to continue to rave about how pain doesn’t scare him in the slightest instead he felt the warm and soft hands trailing the design.

“Cool!”

They looked up at him with an unfamiliar expression. One of wonder. Something Klaus wasn’t exactly known for inducing. It made something in his heart tug, a feeling exclusive to his adored pirates. Usually looking up at him in admiration of his strength or with a challenge but this….was nothing he’d ever felt before.

“I’ll be back, gotta go!”

“Oh uhm bye then.”

Ignoring the way that same tug reappeared as he, hearing them sadly play with their fingers. He left as soon as possible, barely remembering to close the gate before heading up the stairs to safety.

It just couldn’t be!

He needed his other half to be sure.

“Oh, it’s you again!”

The joyful greeting was not what Kurt was expecting. Just returning the key his brother was carelessly carrying around. If the Captain figured out it was misplaced they’d never hear the end of it.

The prisoner couldn’t go far thanks to the chain and cuff attaching them to the bed, but they were standing looking starry-eyed and smiling as they mistook him for his brother. Alas, Kurt wasn’t devoid of mischievousness, even though some may consider him the more behaved brother, when an opportunity presented itself he just couldn’t refuse!

“Do you by any chance have more of those tattoos to show me?”

Kurt held back a laugh before agreeing to unlock the cell once again to do what he knew his brother would have done, choosing another one. Lifting the sleeves of shirt up to his shoulder he showed off his bicep, trying not to react when he was so willingly touched.

“Wow! So many! Super duper cool!”

Kurt scoffed to himself. So a little gushing was what got him all worked up, how cute! He’d be sure to tease him with this later–

“And you’re so strong! I reckon—sorry I’m real sure you could just carry me! Wait let’s try it!”

The absolute invasion of the prisoner hanging on his curled bicep is startling but not as much as the end of it when they clumsily dismount falling into his chest. For a moment, maybe it’s instinct that his arm wraps around to steady them. Leaving him unguarded for the unbelievably carefree face staring up at him.

“Thanks! Sorry for stumbling over you like this, if you don’t mind we can try again!”

Kurt liked being looked up to and praised, but this was making his heart thump the same way it did when he cornered their bratty cabin boy. Even still this was a whole new feeling and he wouldn’t be a Heine if he didn’t explore this further!

“But of course!”

From that moment forward the twins decided they’d extend their efforts from lightly teasing with their crew to outright delaying them. They couldn’t deny it hurt their heart to hear them complain about the waning supplies and the money they needed to repair the oldest parts of the ship. But they figured the extra time was worth it to know of the intense feelings they had for their dear prisoner.

“Just cause ya caught feelin’s, that excuses you’re behavior?”

Klaus hummed looking carelessly at the steps that led to the upper deck of the ship as if he could see their Pearl through the wooden door. It bothered Ran that Kurt wasn’t even paying attention in his brother’s stead, like he usually did, only slowly blinking up at the ceiling with a lovestruck smile on his face.

“It’s without a doubt Klaus and I have fallen deeply for our little Pearl. I’d definitely give you trouble if you tried to turn them in now.”

Ran was openly glaring as twin pairs of emerald eyes glared back with an intensity typically reserved for the bedroom the pirates on this ship. As much as he’d like to dismiss it as an over-exaggeration from them he’d seen the kind of devotion they had.

“Hello (Y/n) you’re getting better at using that mop.”

Klaus and Kurt had managed to slip away after breakfast to visit their favorite prisoner, who had graduated from daydreaming in their cell. After the first two weeks of being delayed, the Captain approved of them having a few chores of course while always being monitored. Though it was very quickly learned they didn’t have to worry about them escaping too much at all.

“Really?!”

They weren’t, but Kurt thought the way they struggled with waving the mop nonsensically on the deck was incredibly cute. His brother, of the same mindset, cooed before pinching and squishing their cheeks.

“So cute! Maybe I should show you my technique with the mop?”

“Oh, you will? I’d love that Klaus!”

Kurt rolled his eyes. He knew what his brother was doing and he wished he thought of it before him. He frowned at his brother as he slotted himself behind (Y/n) and clasped his hands around their awkward grip on the mop. Kurt settled to stand aside already concocting a way to intervene, in the meantime hoping they wouldn’t catch onto his brother closing the distance.

“--So if you want you should bend back into me and–”

“I didn’t know you had others on the crew!”

“Yes, I’d love it if you bent into—wait what?!

Kurt followed your gaze toward a man attempting to hide behind some barrels, and looking further past them he could tell others were coming up the side of the boat. It was supposed to be a silent ambush, from some amateur pirates. They must’ve counted their crew and thought it’d be an easy job. They’d be dead wrong.

The brothers already had their hands on their trusted knuckle knives and jeweled punch knuckles. They spared a second to look at one another–the silent orchestrating of a plan to quickly dispatch the intruders only for their Pearl to speak out before them.

“Hey! What are you doing sneaking around for?”

The first head that had been hiding figured their cover was blown or would be if he didn’t dispatch one of the waving witnesses, charging with a long knife. Kurt and Klaus sprung into action, the former twin breaking the arm of the lunging intruder, holding his other hand on their face casually snapping their neck. By then Klaus had spun (Y/n) around excusing the intruders' attendance on the ship; it was refreshing having someone so unfamiliar with their gritty style of life around. But it came with its own challenges. Challenges Klaus and Kurt would love to have. Kurt quickly threw the corpse where it was hiding before, joining Klaus in encouraging (Y/n) to go to the kitchen.

“We have to dismiss our unwanted guests, so if you would please go help Marie in the kitchen.”

“Oh okay but if Angel comes back you’ll have to tell him why the deck isn’t swabbed.”

“Sure sure little Pearl. Bye-bye now!”

The brothers turned to the intruders who they purposely lightly incapacitated quietly groaning as they attempted to get up. They wanted them to be lucid for the ‘fun’ the twins planned to have. Ran recalled finding the aftermath of said intruders and not clearly being able to tell how many originally invaded. The twins infamously spend a quarter of their day reducing their enemies into a bloody, burnt mess. With great pride, they confided in him, how they wished they could show (Y/n) but the First Mate convinced them not to. Part of the agreement was that no permanent damage was inflicted and Ran was sure looking at the amalgamation of human corpses would scar them for life. Ran was certain such a reaction was only reserved for the crew.

“Are you openly admitting to betraying this crew on behalf of a prisoner?”

The twins shrugged and Ran had half a thought to throw them in the brig just for their nonchalance. He was going to do just that before their Angel spoke up. Always the odd one out of a crew of pirates, his hair was the brightest blond almost white. Combed and maintained just a little past his ears, his skin lightly sunkissed an active choice many on a pirate crew wouldn’t care to do. Despite technically being the cabin boy Angel’s almond-shaped red eyes with long lashes to boot were a soft spot for the whole crew.

Blushing oh so cutely, he faked a cough to bring attention to himself,” Ahem, I also…like them and would like them not to be delivered.”

His statement made all but the twins and Captain Lu gasp in shock. The Captain smiled, her dagger-like silver teeth glinting from the sparse lanterns around. She was leaning forward, her talon-covered index fingers tapping excitedly on the table, leaning even closer to the petite cabin boy on her left. His blush intensified as she twirled a talon around one of his blonde strands. The surrounding crew getting just as hot as him.

“I thought you wanted them ‘gone as soon as possible’?”

He closed his eyes as though that would stop everyone’s curious gazes, with his nose slightly in the air he made his case.

“Well I’ve changed my mind…last time I checked that wasn’t a crime.”

The Captain chuckled her metal claw softly grazing from his hair to his naked neck,” It isn’t, but what made you change your mind?”

The question saddled Angel with too many different memories. In the short time, his Pearl arrived on the ship he couldn’t deny the fluffy feeling in his chest when there was any inkling of their prisoner involved. But it wasn’t always this way. Firstly he didn’t mind all that much, the crew had held hostages before. It was the change that was taking over the crew that made him reevaluate. Two weeks into their imprisonment already half the crew were sneaking off and arguing about sneaking off to “play” with the prisoner. Ignoring Angel’s usually coveted advances was an easy way to earn his hatred. Which resulted in his usual routine with the Captain–cuddled up to her after a particularly passionate romp to ask for the one thing that would cure his sadness.

“You want me to get rid of our big-ticket prisoner?”

“Yes! I mean aren’t you worried about all the stalling the royals have been doing? Don’t you think they’re stringing you along? And heck we don’t even need to keep all of them alive and just keep a finger that we can send for…motivation!”

For a second, Angel thought he’d won. The Captain cooed, running her dark hands through his tussled hair and lovingly kissing his forehead. Barely able to hide his victory his pink lips curved into a smile, that dropped with the Captain’s knowing smirk.

“You’re jealous of them?”

“What jealous!?” Instinctively Angel perked up sitting up in the bed, completely ignoring his worried damsel routine.

“I have nothing to be jealous of! That barnacle is getting everyone worked up for no good reason!”

“How do you know?”

“What?”

“How do you know they aren’t worth the fuss if you’ve never played with them yourself?”

Angel crossed his arms to pout, managing his dramatic fall into the captain's bed (minding his sore behind). Glaring at the wooden grooves of the decorated wall as if they were the ones denying him.

“I don’t need to know.”

“Well maybe you should….then you could leverage it for some much-needed time with everyone.”

Angel hated knowing that he was taking the Captain’s advice in the first place. Fully accepting the task of making the pampered prisoner useful by sharing his chores with them. The collective groans from the disappointed crew only spurred him on. Harshly shoving a pale and scrub into their hands and screaming for them to scrub the deck. Leaning back on a barrel as he styled his hair looking in the reflection of a compact mirror that Kurt stole just for him, he was sure it’d be easy. “Spending time to learn” while the prisoner he hated did his chores sounded like a wonderful dream. Except this prisoner was like nothing he’d dealt with before.

“Alright so make sure to scrub the floor. Don’t be too heavy with the wat–”

SPLASH

“...Okay…that’s a bit much but–”

SPLISH! SPLISH!

“STOP STOP! What are you doing?! Serves me right to believe some rich kid would know how to scrub a floor!”

“Well I’m sorry but I wasn’t exactly allowed to learn at home.”

“But I’m sure someone was scrubbing the floors, wouldn’t hurt to watch them right?”

“I was strictly forbidden from spending time with others….including the maids.”

“...Well you’re going to learn. Grab the scrub.”

He hated to admit, that he enjoyed watching them flounder with the new tasks. Turning to him with that wide-eyed curious stare admitting they had no idea what a ‘sea shanty’ was. It was weirdly endearing, to be the one looked up to despite being the shortest. To be asked for his opinion on things other than costumes for a disguise. Being the one to do the pinning against the wall when he’s being particularly mean.

Angel hated to admit it but when he was confided in about an arranged marriage, he actually intervened.

“So we’re docking at Restwood Kingdom. Small town. You’re not going to get to see it though.”

“That’s okay I’ve already been.”

“...You have?”

“Yeah, my….betrothed lives there.”

“.....Your betrothed?”

“...Yeah my family wasn’t thrilled but they said he would have been the best for me.” “Do you feel the same way?”

He studied their face so intensely then, studying the quirk in their lips and their wandering eyes. He prided himself on knowing when his Pearl was happy. When they were reminiscing. This was not one of those times…there was something off.

“It doesn’t really matter,” the sad smile made him sick, “ when I go back they’re going to start the wedding plans.”

“...Hm that’s a shame.”

Angel felt no remorse, casually reminding Ran of a juicy bit of information the prisoner let slip. Handing over the drawn map he convinced them to draw to ‘see the garden’ they talked so much about. Pretending to be just as distraught that a headline of the prince being massacred is published during their stay. Hiding the smile that threatened to come while cuddling a crying (Y/n) into the bed he was sharing with Marie.

“So yes. I changed my mind because as much as I hate to admit I do…like them.”

“Whoa so they were gonna marry that prick,” Kurt piped up, smiling wide as he looked at the pinned headline in the brig. Klaus and a few others at the table snickered an air of pride exuding from everyone in the room, making Ran roll his eyes. They were getting distracted again.

“That explains your sudden necessity for a…noble’s head…movin’ on. Willow? What about yer navigation blunders? You’ve purposely been leading us astray fer over a month now. I thought yer vow of loyalty trumped that.”

The islander navigator sighed, “I’m loyal to my heart. That is why I came on this ship, in the first place.”

A series of cheers and whoops erupted from the table, Marie and Reese high-fiving her from both sides, much to Ran’s displeasure. Willow simply shrugs, her hooped earrings jingling against her necklaces as she shakes her head. Even without her culture’s morals influencing her, she was always inclined to follow her heart. Why else would she leave the stifling paradise of the islands and its familiar grottos and underwater caves and the singing with sirens if not for love? Watching the Captain, then the twins, then the others all falling for the poor prisoner. She recalled when she first laid eyes on the little Pearl, freshly plucked from the protective mouth of the royal clam. The Captain and the First Mate had headed the mission, relying on Reese and her to keep their passage out clear. It was but a moment when they needed to get past a crowd of marching guards. Reese had been the one to ask what everyone was thinking.

“Uh, are we going to gag them or something? What if they screamed right now?”

They didn’t respond instead the prisoner that was tied up and currently sitting on the sewer floor was attempting to raise their hands as if they were in school. The Captain snickered and Ran rolled his eyes, as Reese watched their eager attempt to ask for permission. Willow was the one who finally let them speak, with a finger to her lips. The prisoner’s expression lit up…like a teacher’s pet who could finally speak.

“Oooh I promised I wouldn’t make a sound for the whole trip! As long as I get a street beignet in the end!”

Willow quietly laughed along with Reese before they were on the move again. Watching as their untouched ankle was shackled in their cell and the expression on their face not even changing did something to her. Something she found not many of her current partners had. Not that they weren’t sympathetic or understanding, just that they couldn’t possibly know how easy it was to be swept away by the pirates when she met them. And she knew that her Pearl felt the same way.

“Did you really promise not to speak for some pastries?”

“Yes!”

“But weren’t you afraid? Didn’t you want to be helped?”

“I…kindof have always wanted to sneak away I just could never do it. If that makes sense.”

“It does. More than you’ll ever know.”

She recalled their conversations between the bars of the cell. Animated and intrigued with every word that came from her typically untalkative self. Even her dreams were filled with their endless chatter and entrancing smiles. Being a follower of her heart meant listening to her dreams and more than anything telling her destiny demanded she have them. Have you. And she’d do anything to keep you.

“Mmmh Willow.”

“Sorry little Pearl, I’m almost done.”

“S-s-so this is kind of like a tattoo? Except with your mouth?”

“Yes,” she licked lovingly at the puncture marks along their neck. Pride filled her heart as she watched the blood underneath their skin coagulate, “something like that.”

That’s probably why she could only stare in response to Ran’s question.

“You’re asking if I’d join the twins? If they were to ever rebel for them?”

Ran nodded.

“Of course, I would.”

Kurt and Klaus cheered roping a reluctant Angel into it too, making Ran send a scathing look for them to stop. It didn’t and without his prompting Marie, the brunette chef spoke her peace.

“I’d also reckon they deserve a place with us, forever. Don’t think I could bear it if they left me now!”

The freckled chef had their own share of tantalizing conversations over the meals she’d deliver. The kind she often never could have with the other pirates being as close as they were, it was lovely having a new taster.

“Hmmm so good…though.”

“What? What is it?”

“I think this could use…some more spice.”

“Really?! But I tried using that oregano they got for me.”

“No no, another spice maybe try,,,, coriander.”

“I’ll have to give that a try.”

Marie would love to say that she too had waited for a long while before she was enraptured but that just wasn’t the case. From the second they scarfed down and happily ate her food she was hooked. She just loved a good eater! Dreaming about what else she could feed their lovely little captive, who was just so responsive. So responsive they rarely ever refused her dishes even when they were well beyond the point of full. Not exactly free to roam around the ship, she’d fill them up with her concoctions and recipes until they couldn’t move. Her favorite instance was during their first day out of the cell, finally allowed to be out but only with a chaperone. Marie had volunteered, shoving her stuffed Pearl into her bed, taking advantage of their feast and the sleepiness that followed. With a few exhausted groans, they were asleep giving her free range to poke and squish the fat of their stomach. Squealing to herself at its light firmness, she delighted in the freedom to do so. Her other lovers on the ship were freaky open but not enough for her to do all she pleased. But her Pearl was different so oblivious asleep they wouldn’t protest her hands wandering to explore and touch and taste.

“You’re so easy, (Y/n)...so mine.”

She’d only felt inclined to stop when Reese had walked in on her, a silent warning to go no further as she nibbled on an ear and placed a grape into her Pearl’s lips. There was no one she could do this to without being scolded or with anyone so unaware of their own limits that they would stop her. Not to mention she adored the compliments given to her without caring where the meat she’d gotten came from. At this point, she could never go back.

“That would leave you Reese…do you too feel this way about our hostage.”

All eyes were on Reese. The impish, pick-pocketer with a big smile, an aloof personality, and hair dark as the sea. Suspicious as he was a good fighter, rarely was he on the receiving end of such big questions. Often preferring to go with the flow of his fellow pirates and backing his Captain in any way possible. When the plan was in motion to abduct the greatest payoff that they’d ever attempted he was all for it. Dismissing their weird behavior and the Captain’s quiet opinion of them. Not once had he tried to risk it, until he’d seen it. Everyone on the ship had dopey faces and distracted behavior–it was so out of character for everyone. It didn’t take long before he’d found the culprit and was tempted to do what he did to all his problems.

Chuck it off the plank.

“Are you sure this is a fun game? It just seems a little scary to me!”

“That’s part of the fun! That little adrenaline rush is how you know you’re playing it right!”

“Oh okay!”

It was just too easy. The simple proposal of a ‘pirate game; had them following like an obedient dog, completely unaware their owner was going to shoot them in the back of the head. Reese didn’t think he’d feel bad about it. Chalking it up to another kill of some enemy to his crew, he’d done it before so many times. Using his tricks and wit to outsmart them; it really was too easy to instruct them to balance themself on the plank above the sea.

“Okay I’m at the end Reese I did it!”

“Good…real good.”

“Wow the water is—”

It was second hand to slam his foot on the end of the plank, sending their hostage slightly in the air and tumbling into the depths below. From his safety on the ship's railing, he watched them resurface once, reaching out to him and struggling to call his name.

“Ree—”

Seeing their face disappear under the waves Reese thought he should feel free, yet his feet refused to turn away. Staring at the unmoving water trying to decipher why there was a piece of him hoping they’d resurface. But he recalls a conversation he’d had with them. It was a one-off something he probably didn’t even initiate.

“Oh yeah, I don’t know how to swim. My family told me I’d never need to!”

He remembered thinking the same thing he was now.

How helpless.

They need me.

He was only reassured when he finally dove in, a floating device tied to him as he held them up. Wet coughing and puking of saltwater against his chest and their hands hanging tightly around his neck. It was the tears that had him hugging back.

“Reese…”

“Yes?”

“I-I really don’t like this game.”

“I know me neither.”

“C-can we g-g–go home?”

Home. That’s where they needed to be because they were so darn helpless. He had to make sure they did just that, forever.

“Yup they gotta be here, I don’t know how they’ll survive otherwise.”

Once again the pirates around the table began to cheer, a collective air of acceptance of the same truth it all stopped though as everyone was reminded of had the real say. Captain Lu sat at the head of the table with her talon-covered hands folded underneath her face. Her luscious lips are straight, her expression far too apathetic for the cheering pirates before her. They held their breaths in anticipation—a silence encompassing the mess hall as they waited on her command.

Her First Mate turned to her, his words suddenly so much heavier,” Cap’n Lu, do you want to keep the prisoner or d’ya prefer to return ‘em and get our reward?”

The Captain leaned back into her chair—her throne observing the faces of her pirates whom she adored, all waiting for her word as they ought to. She, like many here, felt as though someone was missing from their ranks….and she couldn’t agree more. Having been the one to receive a message in the bottle written by the King’s beloved child. On the parchment was a plea to see the world, to see the ocean for themselves, and to find love.

Well, now they had eight.

There was an apparent thrill for Lu–with every successful treasure hunt, there was a small part of her that felt satisfied. There truly was nothing that beat pure ale down her throat, a lover at her knees, and a view of the treasures she’d acquired burying her other lovers. It beat a hard day's work. It beats an ‘honest job.’ She could think of nothing as fulfilling until she met (Y/n) in the flesh.

She and Ran lead the heist, letting only themselves into the innards of the intensely guarded wing of the castle. It felt disgustingly perfect to be trampling the lightly pink rug of the castle bedroom, leaving the faint dirt print within its wool. Passing a tray of ornate gifts, ranging from perfumes to portraits and priceless works of art. The handles and doors grand and golden would be fine prizes any other day but Rand and Lu walked right past them. All to stop in front of the completely bored Pearl at the center of it all.

“I got your message.”

She handed the bottle over. The original writer tracing their sloppy handwriting from so long ago. A smile spread across their face.

“So have you come to take me? Like a hero?”

“Just like one.”

“Will I…” they trailed off eying the calendar plastered on the opposite wall. Large and in an overly fancy font mapping out a schedule that didn’t change much at all,” get everything I asked for before I come back?”

Without hesitation, she responded, “Of course and so much more.”

With a smile on both of their faces, the Pearl allowed themselves to be tied up. Stopping to negotiate a gag, and then leaving into the sewer systems of the castles. In the comfort of the ship, Lu felt no better place for her Pearl was by her side. In her bed. In her First Mate’s bed. In any of her pirate’s beds.

No greater gift than seeing them there….among her pile of treasures.

“What do you think Ran? What will your Captain say?”

The question made the pirate fluster, shifting their boots along the floor. Dutifully looking into his Captain’s single purple eye. The silent question hanging between them—’ What do you want me to say?’. It was easier than breathing, the split-second answer that punctuates every scenario his heart likes to play out.

Thinking back to all the new memories he’d made with their Pearl. It was the evening of a minor heist that ended with a fight. Not against the corrupt merchant but with Reese. The pick-pocket had been particularly reckless attacking the knight-in-training who’d followed their band bag to the ship. Despite shakily holding a sword up, Reese attacked with extreme prejudice. Holding the boy by the neck as he repeatedly stabbed a dull knife into his sternum, dragging through the skin to his intestines. Ran was the first to witness this, surprised by the aggression to someone they’d usually let live.

“He saw them! Sleeping in the brig! He was going to tell! I can’t–! I wouldn’t–! We can’t let that happen!”

Ran listened to Reese flounder, the manic look in his blue eyes anxiously darting about. He’d rarely seen him in such a state. The detached sneak had a habit of masking his pain, a survival instinct he couldn’t quite part with. A paranoid obsessiveness that requires unspoken requirements to be fulfilled puts him on edge. People, not tied up, are the usual ones—too many opportunities for danger. And apparently, anyone threatening to remove their little Pearl would do the same.

Ran did what he usually did when he got in this state. Pulling Reese into his chest, blocking his view of the dying intruder. Letting his rough hands curl within the locks of his shaking partner, holding him tightly as he hummed.

“No one’s taking our Pearl. They won’t be going anywhere.”

“....Promise?”

Ran didn’t hesitate when he promised. He also didn’t hesitate when Marie and Willow asked to make a special pitstop. The chef wouldn’t stop talking about how their Pearl in passing spoke of a specific spice so fondly, that they’d die if they never got to see their expression when they finally tasted it again. Stealing anything from the spice merchants meant going out of their way; possibly mingling with other pirates who specialized in the trade. Yet he still said they could. Purposefully stalling their pearl until Marie was in the position to watch excitedly as they gleefully ate her cooking. Sending Willow to ‘wait’ with their Pearl for their scheduled bathroom break. Keeping quiet Willow promises to visit later.

“Are you alright with this, Ran?”

“Yes…you were very helpful…for our requests with the prisoner.”

“It’s not a problem. We haven’t broken the routine or protocol.”

He did lie just that once about not breaking protocol. He didn’t bother saying anything the next time Angel and the twins, confiscated a line of rope. Typically Ran demanded strict ledgers and labeling when it came to any supplies on the ship. It was the best way to make sure everything was in order. So typically he’d have quite a lot to say about the unspecified use of an extra rope—but this case was special. It was in front of the twins’ room, Klaus and Kurt usually kept the door open as an invitation but not this time. Knocking brought out Klaus and Kurt, pink on their cheeks and large smiles on their faces.

“We’re using it for a game.”

“Yes, a very fun game.”

Ran was so annoyed he hadn’t figured out why yet,”Well am I getting the rope back?”

The twins shared a look as they usually did before speaking up. Their door opening to reveal a flushed Angel has them stopping and eagerly turning to him.

“---We’re ready for you~ Oh Ran, how’ve you been?”

The twins no longer interested in the faux conversation, went into their room leaving Angel to placate their First Mate.

“Sorry, no guarantees about that rope. It might not survive what we have planned for it.”

Ran wasn’t an idiot he recognized the specific shirt he was wearing. The one that was flowy and hung off his shoulders–deliciously inviting. Though it begs the question who was being strung up if it wasn’t him?

“Oh, and I’m chaperoning our Pearl by the way! Bye!”

He quickly disappeared into the room behind him, leaving Ran to burn with the broken rules of any prisoner. Granted special permissions were given, he wondered just how far he was slipping or just how bad it had gotten.

“Thank you Ran for helping me! If you can believe it I usually am not allowed to do this completely by myself.”

Beneath him was (Y/n) colloquially dubbed their Pearl bare and resting within the tin washbasin. In his hands was the washcloth lathered in the sudsy remains of a dwindling soap bar. Fighting the burning in his cheeks and begging twitchy hands running over unmarred skin, with the reverence it usually did. It was the quiet splash of the water with the slightest movements, their breathy moans of satisfaction that brought Ran to his knees. In his heart, nay! His very soul was for them.

For them, no amount of gore and death was unnecessary.

For them, no amount of stalling, lying, or breaking of rules was unneeded.

For them, no amount of rope, jewels, or spices could compare.

For them, their Pearl was worth more than all of it–and trading them in for any pile of gold or riches would be a loss. For nothing can compare to the value of their Pearl.

“My Cap’n, you must say yes. As you already have the greatest of treasures.”

——————————————————————————————————

The nervousness you felt was growing exponentially. A little while ago you’d been left in the crow’s nest; Lu assuring you’d be helpful while they had their meeting. For all the stories and headlines you’ve read about pirates, it’s crazy to know they demanded to have meetings with one another.

Staring at the endless sea and sky full of blue, you let your mind wander. Thinking back to the endless cycle you originally lived through. Waking and being pampered day in and day out, in the same room you’d been in since your youth. Looking at the definition it constituted it being called insanity, but this insanity eased all in court. All in the castle. All in the Kingdom. To know their future was locked away, upkept, and healthy.

But that was gone now.

You were free.

For now.

You wondered how long it’d take for your parents to chase, for the pirates to lose interest, for others to learn that the jewel of the crown was easy pickings. It felt so dreamy. To spend your days learning something new, trying what you’ve heard adventurous heroes get to do. Daring heists, escaping storms….being loved.

It was foreign but good.

So good, you dreaded seeing the Royal Messenger ship appearing on the horizon. The white sails instead of red or black proving this was the one to pay whatever it took to bring you home.

Quickly you stood, peering into the eye-glass once again. Turning to the ladder you made your way down, running to knock on the closed door of the mess hall. Instead, the door swung open revealing the dressed in purple Captain Lu smiling her infamous smile. Reminding you of the first day you finally met… a shame it’d be your last.

“Captain the Royal ship is here on the North horizon.”

She hums stepping to the side to reveal the others who had heard such major news. The first to step out was Marie, her bottom lip jutted out and quivering with an onset of tears. Throwing herself at you, you caught her to the best of your ability. The chef was petite but her grip around you was tight, making her dead weight a problem for you.

“Don’t tell me yer gunna leave me (Y/n)! How will I go on?!”

You had nothing to say, just patting her flowing brown hair. Saving you from outright admitting you’ve never comforted anyone ever, Angel piped up.

“You’ll be fine,” he lightly kicked her, looping an arm around yours, “get up we’ve got work to do.”

“So what do we have to do to get ready? How do ransoms work exactly?”

The pirates around you stopped for a moment, something unfamiliar jading their expressions. But as quick as it came it was gone, them smiling and laughing like you’d told a funny story. You didn’t hide your curious face…was that the wrong thing to say? You felt a nibble against your earlobe, the familiar smell of lemons invading your senses as Angel pulled you close.

“You're absolutely hilarious, (Y/n).”

Klaus sauntered towards you coming on your opposite side, to hold your chin up. A light peck was all he got in before Kurt butted in. Holding the gesture for much longer before his brother pulled at his matching messy hair. The tug of war continued for a while until you heard a large a two smacks occurring simultaneously. Klaus and Kurt snapping upright clutching their behinds with a smirk and a flustered smile directed at Willow, who took advantage of their surprise to squeeze in pressing a kiss to your neck.

“We’ve come to an agr’ment, Pearl. You won’t be going.”

“What?!”

“Isn’t this just the best,” Marie piped up. Tears gone and her grip now fondling the fat of your waist,” You get to try to fill up on all the new ideas I’ve got cookin’ up!”

Reese stepped forward minding Marie still kneeling on the ground, he looked you deep into your eyes a warm smile spreading on his face.

“You’re stayin’ I doubt that ships going to get within boardin’ distance of us before they’re blown to smithereens.”

You don’t choose to focus on the dark look on his face or the way they all seemed to smile along with him. With Angel still clinging onto you, you turn to Lu who’s tucking her own spyglass into her coat pocket.

“What d’ya say, Pearl? Gettin’ a little bit more than you asked for.”

Your first meeting ran through your head, and you nodded. Looking past her to see Ran who has a rare smile on his face. You pull Angel and Marie into a hug, leaning backward when Kurt, Klaus, and Willow join. Reese comes forward slipping past the arms going for him before he runs for the crow's nest.

A look is shared with Ran as he runs off, making the First Mate fake cough to get your attention.

“Now (Y/n), your trainin’ as a pirate begins now, and for yer first lesson: we’ll be discussin’ battle at sea!”

You beamed, wiggling free to follow Ran who was cleaning his handgun. Watching in awe as he practiced his aim at the incoming ship.

“Are we really going to hurt them?”

He hummed, “Only if they choose not to leave us be. As a pirate, we protect our own first and foremost. You think you can handle that (Y/n)?”

It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy this adventure a little while longer!

169 notes · View notes

henneseyhoe · 2 days ago

Text

Just One More | 💭

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions Of Sexual Activity, Pregnancy, Dad!Lewis, Humor, Fluff

SUMMARY: Anotha one(a baby! yaaay!)

***A/N DISCLAIMER 💌- this is !!!NOT!!! apart of the official Just One More AU, i just thought it was a silly idea to write the fans reacting if he got you pregnant AGAIN 😭 dw, id never torture yall with five kids <333***

✮✮✮✮

Y/NUSERNAME

Liked by essence and 986,862 others

Back from 🇺🇸…with souvenirs🩷 lewishamilton

—

USER1 WHAT??? OMG

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER2 again????

USER3 ARE YOU NOT TIRED???

USER4 I CALLED IT 😭😭😭

f1 Was itching for this announcement! See them in about 17 years maybe? 🫣🤭🍼

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER5 planning for a baby that isn’t here yet ain’t crazy??? 😭

USER6 F1 having a contract ready for a fetus was not on my 2025 bingo card?

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER7 (user6) how come? they did it for a few drivers racing now 😅😂

USER8 oh they get doooown 😭

USER9 LEWIS PLEASE GET OFF OF HER MY GOD

USER10 SERIOUSLY LIKE I PROMISE SHES NOT GOING NO WHERE LET HER GO 😭

USER11 this is why she takes so long to restock the website. too busy HUNCHING 😒

ynusername hunching?????? 😭😭😭

USER12 last time she was pregnant we didn’t get that tour…🥲

USER13 mind you this is the LAST time you sabotages us 😐🫵🏽 (lewishamilton)

USER14 Please tell me this is for a late halloween costume

ynusername yeah, i’m going as me when im pregnant 🙂

USER14 (ynusername) Y/N do not play with us right now..

lewishamilton legacy 💪🏾🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒💜💛

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER15 YOU ALREADY HAD A LEGACY. FOUR OF THEM. YOU ARE SO INCONSIDERATE!!!

USER16 this is the greed they talk about in the bible, Lewis…

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER17 Omggg another little Hamilton 🥹

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

YBFF ANSWER THE PHONE Y/N???? 😭

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

YBSF bye i should have known when you didn’t wanna hang 😪😫💛

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER18 No you should have known when she was out here dressing like big pun in them 7x ass clothes

ynusername (user18) Yooo 😭😭😭

USER19 You guys just finding out, meanwhile me and my husband saw her at the superbowl yesterday night. She even waved😅

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername Thanks for keeping a secret! 😘💚🦅

USER20 and you didn’t snitch??? better than me

USER21 (user20) It wasn’t my place 🤷🏻‍♂️

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

USER22 Lewis and Giannis going baby for baby this year

USER23 Lewis is winning I fear!

essence Mama Y/N takes no breaks! And neither does Lewis we see 👀🤭

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername Essence…🥴🤭

USER24 HOW GREEEEEDY 😭

USER25 Soooo is there going to be a restock for the merch or does this stop it—

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername catch the restock Tuesday! Pregnancy only stops one thing and that’s me from seeing my feet 😭🩷

gq We knew first 😜

❤︎ ʙʏ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ

ynusername 🤭

✮✮✮✮

“Your fans are plotting on ripping my head off, do you see what they’re saying on twitter?!”

Lewis exclaimed and turned his phone to you, scrolling down his new notifications. You shift under the beds sheets to look at the screen, squinting slightly to read. The replies were filled with shock, as you expected, and some jokes here and there, but mostly shock. You cackle, your plump belly bouncing with every laugh.

“I can’t do anything about that! I told you if you got me pregnant again, I’d hurt you, but it looks like they’re wanting to do my dirty work”

You took the phone from his hands and cuddled up to his side as he covers the both of you with the beds duvet.

He scoffs. “Don’t act like you didn’t ask for it” Tucking his head beneath yours, he bites your neck, making you tuck your chin with a giggle.

“Shut up! That was in the moment…plus, you asked me to say it”

He hums and shakes his head, remembering the night you two conceived completely different than you.

“Nah. I don’t remember asking you to say you wanted another one of my kids. Actually, I remember what you said word for word if you want me to recite it” He mischievously clears his throat, but your hand had already made it’s way over his mouth to shut him up before he even started.

“If you say anything and my babies hear, it’s gonna be me and you” You threatened, Lewis’s eyes crinkling at the sides as he smiles widely underneath your hand.

Suddenly you felt your palm being wet, your instinct being to move. “EW! YOU LICKED ME!”

✮✮✮✮

💌—another reminder that this is NOT APART OF THE ACTUAL AU!! it’s just something cute i wanted to write as a scenario.

196 notes · View notes

idkyetxoxo · 3 days ago

Text

Jacaerys Velaryon - Sea Breeze

Summary - When the prince stumbles upon her naked in the sea, the encounter sparks an awkward moment between them. Amidst embarrassment and vulnerability, an unspoken bond begins to form. In the silence of shared discomfort, something new may blossom.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2083

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

My horse trotted softly along the shoreline, each step sending gentle puffs of sand swirling into the salty breeze.

The ocean stretched endlessly before us, shimmering in the sun's embrace, a mirror to the azure sky. The rhythmic crunch of hooves on sand mingled with the distant cries of gulls, their calls rising and falling like notes of a forgotten melody.

I gripped the reins loosely, tying them around a fallen branch that had washed ashore, bleached by sun and sea.

My steed whickered softly, the faint sound carried away by the wind. He dipped his head to nibble on sparse tufts of grass, content to linger in this tranquil place. I gave his neck a fond pat, feeling the warmth of his coat beneath my palm.

Together, we had journeyed far, and now, this brief moment of peace felt like a gift from the gods themselves.

I moved ahead, my bare feet sinking into the soft, warm sand with each step. The wind played with my hair, teasing it across my face and carrying with it the tangy scent of salt.

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the crisp air. The waves crashed in a soothing, eternal rhythm, their relentless dance a reminder of both change and constancy.

I let myself be carried away by the music of the sea, each swell and break a pulse in the heart of the earth.

The sun blazed above, radiant and golden, draping its warmth over me like a silken shawl. I sank into the sand, leaning back with a sigh, feeling it mould to my body as if cradling me in a gentle embrace.

For once, the world felt uncomplicated, the burdens of duty and expectation slipping away like grains of sand through my fingers.

Time slowed, and I basked in the sheer sweetness of the moment, as rare as it was perfect.

Then, a spark of mischief lit within me. I sat up, glancing around. The beach was empty—blissfully, completely empty. I grinned, the reckless thrill of freedom coursing through my veins.

No eyes to watch, no ears to listen. Only the sea, the wind, and the sky.

With a quick, breathless laugh, I jumped to my feet, shedding my clothes in a flurry of movements—each garment falling away like leaves from a tree in autumn.

The air prickled against my skin, cool and exhilarating, and I shivered, more from anticipation than cold. I stepped forward, tentative at first, the sand firm beneath my bare feet.

The water beckoned, a shimmering expanse of freedom.

The first touch of the sea was a shock, icy tendrils wrapping around my ankles. I gasped, hesitated, and then moved deeper.

The cold embraced me, each step bringing a fresh wave of sensation until, at last, I surrendered myself to its cool depths. I floated on the water's surface, staring up at the sky.

The world became smaller, reduced to the gentle lap of waves, the whisper of wind, and the vast, boundless sky.

Giddiness bubbled up within me, mixing with an overwhelming sense of peace.

I drifted, letting time slip by unnoticed. The sun dipped lower, painting the horizon with streaks of gold and crimson.

Reluctantly, I began to make my way back to shore, each step a reminder of gravity's pull. The water clung to me as I walked, drops glistening on my skin like jewels.

I paused at the water's edge, turning to steal one last look at the sea—a vast, untamed wilderness that mirrored my soul's desire for freedom.

And then, I heard it—a soft shuffling sound. My heart jumped, and I whipped around.

There, standing just beyond the reach of the waves, was Prince Jacaerys. His wide eyes were fixed on me, shock etched across every line of his face. He looked as if he had stumbled upon some forbidden scene.

For a heartbeat, neither of us moved, time stretching taut between us. His mouth hung open as if words had failed him.

A strangled scream tore from my throat, and I scrambled to cover myself, pressing trembling hands against my chest.

Jacaerys blinked, his face turning a vivid shade of scarlet as he spun around with such speed that he nearly stumbled. His hands flew up to shield his face, but not before I saw the tips of his ears, red with embarrassment.

"My lady—I—I apologize!" he sputtered, his voice high and panicked. "I didn't—I wasn't—I had no idea—!" He fumbled for words, each one more hopelessly tangled than the last.

"What—what are you doing here?" I demanded, anger and mortification burning through me like fire. I took a furious step forward, water splashing around me.

The motion made me slip, and I yelped, barely catching myself.

Jacaerys instinctively turned back, his eyes wide with concern. "Are you—" he began, but my second scream cut him off. He spun around again, so quickly I half-expected him to topple over.

"I thought I saw—something," he stammered, his shoulders hunching as if he could make himself smaller, invisible. "I was... walking."

He shifted his weight awkwardly, his hands now clenched at his sides.

Heat crept up my neck as I stumbled out of the water, desperately grabbing at my clothes. The damp fabric clung stubbornly to my skin, making every movement awkward and slow.

I was acutely aware of how ridiculous I must have looked—half-dressed, dripping wet, and fumbling like a fool.

"Why—why are you not wearing any... clothes?" His voice cracked on the last word, and he winced, as if wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

"I wanted to swim," I shot back, the words sharp and defensive. My hands trembled as I pulled my tunic into place, trying to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks. "I didn't want to ruin my clothes."

"Of course," he muttered, nodding stiffly. "Completely reasonable." His voice was strangled, each syllable a battle against his own flustered state.

An agonizing silence stretched between us, each of us shifting awkwardly, unable to meet the other's gaze.

The air felt heavy with unsaid words, the kind that lodged themselves in throats and made breathing difficult.

He cleared his throat again, the sound rough and awkward, as if he hoped it might puncture the weight between us. His face remained a brilliant shade of red, a colour that betrayed every ounce of discomfort he was trying—and failing—to suppress.

His eyes stayed resolutely fixed on the sand at his feet as if the intricate patterns left by the waves were the most fascinating thing in the world.

I wondered if he felt as unsure as I did—whether he was struggling with the same dizzying mixture of mortification, vulnerability, and absurdity.

He shifted uncomfortably, shoulders tense, as if torn between staying rooted to the spot or making another bumbling attempt at a retreat.

I imagined him weighing his options, each one more awkward than the last.

I clutched my damp clothes tighter to my chest, acutely aware of how exposed I still felt, even partially covered.

The wind picked up again, cool and unkind, reminding me of my precarious state. I wished desperately for the moment to dissolve, to simply wake up and find it was all a fever dream.

But reality had no such mercy. The silence stretched further, taut as a drawn bowstring. And then, he spoke.

"How... how did you get here?" His voice was strained as if he were forcing himself to speak in measured tones. He cleared his throat again as if hoping to chase away the nervous tremor.

The effort was futile; it cracked and wavered all the same. "There's... no one else around."

"A horse," I blurted out, the words coming too quickly, tumbling over one another in their haste to escape. I gestured vaguely toward where my steed was tied. "I rode here."

My voice sounded thin as if someone else were speaking through me. His brow furrowed slightly, as though my answer required deep contemplation.

He nodded slowly, the motion mechanical, as if he were piecing together a complicated puzzle.

"Ah," he said, drawing out the syllable as though it held profound meaning. "The same horse I saw run past me just moments ago?"

My mouth fell open. "Oh." It was all I could manage, my mind scrambling to comprehend the implications.

"Yes," he added, his gaze darting sideways before snapping back to the ground. "Quite majestic. Impressive gallop."

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling the grit of sand sticking to my wet skin. Mortification prickled over me, and I bit back the retort that nearly escaped.

"Well," I muttered, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice, "thank you... for the commentary."

A beat of silence passed between us, so thick and heavy I thought it might crush me. I almost wished it would.

Instead, he ran a hand through his dark curls, the motion both hesitant and desperate.

"I, um... I will walk you back." His words were hesitant, as though he was giving himself—and me—every chance to refuse. "It's getting darker. Best not to be out here alone."

My instinct was to protest, to reject the idea of walking alongside him, prolonging this already excruciating encounter. But a glance at the horizon revealed the dimming sky, the sun's last light stretching thin and fragile across the water.

Night was creeping in, and I knew he was right. Reluctantly, I nodded.

"Fine," I said, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "Thank you."

We started walking, each step an exercise in restraint. The only sounds were the crunch of sand beneath our feet and the relentless murmur of the waves.

My clothes clung to me, sodden and heavy, making each movement feel like wading through syrup. I focused on keeping my eyes straight ahead, willing the heat in my cheeks to subside.

Minutes passed. I could feel him glancing my way, every turn of his head a palpable pressure against my skin.

Eventually, he cleared his throat again, the sound so familiar now that I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it.

"I didn't see anything," he blurted out, words tumbling over themselves in their haste to escape. "I mean, I did not... I didn't see... anything. If that helps."

I stumbled, nearly tripping over my own feet. "Uhh..."

"No, I mean," he stammered, waving his hands in front of him as if trying to erase the words from the air. "I saw you had a—" He stopped abruptly, realization dawning on him, and his face darkened several shades. "You have a... a great..."

I stared at him, a mix of mortification and astonishment coursing through me.

His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides, and he looked like he would rather be struck by lightning than continue speaking. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his breath audible in the growing quiet.

A rush of wind swept past, sending a fresh chill through me, and I shivered involuntarily.

He noticed instantly. Without a word, he shrugged off his cloak, the gesture both hesitant and determined. He stepped closer, holding it out with trembling hands.

"Here," he said, his voice soft, stripped of its earlier tension. "You're... cold."

I stared at the cloak for a moment too long, pride warring with gratitude. The cold won out.

I accepted it, wrapping the heavy fabric around my shoulders. It was warm, comforting, and faintly scented of salt and sun—and him. I drew it tighter, feeling both exposed and shielded.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. I kept my eyes on the ground, afraid of what I might see in his expression. Afraid of what he might see in mine.

He nodded, and we resumed our walk. The silence between us felt different now—fragile, but no longer suffocating.

Our steps fell into a quiet rhythm, and I stole a glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His expression was unreadable, a mix of worry, embarrassment, and something else I couldn't quite name.

As we walked, I clutched his cloak tighter, the fabric grounding me. For all the awkwardness—and there was plenty—I couldn't deny a small spark of comfort in his presence.

Neither of us spoke again, but the quiet that stretched between us felt like an unspoken promise.

Perhaps things would remain awkward, perhaps they would grow even more complicated.

But for now, beneath the cloak and the weight of all unsaid things, there was a shared understanding—a fragile sense that, somehow, this too would pass, and something new might be forged from the ashes of this mortifying encounter.

A/n - Tb to that class trip 4 years ago when the fire alarm went off and ofc I had just gotten out of the shower wrapped in a towel half naked and had to walk to the fire assembly point (it was a building with those self locking doors in an emergency so I couldn't even run and try to get dressed cause I was quite literally exiled from my room)🥰 my friend literally had to give me his hoodie and stand there shirtless mind you in the FREEZING Irish winter weather 😭

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #team black #prince jacaerys #jace x reader #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys strong

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dreamersparacosm · 5 hours ago

Text

jeon jungkook - the boy is mine

warnings ; this is porn. that’s all there is to it. reader is PINING, reader’s bff is a cunt, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, spit play kinda, jk worshipping you, someone walks in on yall..

prompt ; in which your best friend needs to be taught a lesson on who your crush belongs to.

a/n ; i mean, this is absolute whore behavior on my end and i have no words. beware this is long AS A MOTHERFUCKER. and so much plot. enjoy. also this is college!jk and reader so WOO (also loosely based on the boy is mine - arianaaaa)

Some people were just meant to be in the background.

Or, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for quite some time now.

You were the kind of person who blended into the background, voice barely rising above a whisper when spoken to, presence often slipping unnoticed into corners of rooms. Some days were spent in Yonsei University’s prestigious library, buried in books, worlds that didn’t require attention, where the characters spoke louder than you dare would. It wasn’t that you minded, though—you were content to remain in the quiet… well, as long as your best friend, Seo-yeon, shone like a star in the midst of it all.

Nevertheless, there were times when her shine cast a shadow, and that light felt a little too harsh. You didn’t mind when Seo-yeon needed a shoulder to lean on, but lately it seemed like all she did was lean—never giving anything in return. And you tried to brush it off, scolding your brain it’s just the pressure of her rich father but deep down, you could not shake the feeling that Seo-yeon’s warmth was only reserved for everyone else.

And that someone was your best friend since you were 10, Jeon Jungkook.

You get it. Who wouldn’t? Hottest guy at school, richest parents, biggest heart… and from the rumor mill, his heart wasn’t the only thing that’s big.

It’s always just been you and him. Jungkook and [Y/N], [Y/N] and Jungkook. Best friends since grade school, partners in crime on the playground. Really, they were setting you up for failure by having your best friend be someone who had a revolving door of women in his life. Even back in your young age, he somehow garnered more attention than an average adult. It was just who he was. You accepted that.

But then, somewhere along the timeline of convoluted wreckage your life, you two grew up. Grew closer, somehow. The lines of your life intertwined, never straying too far apart.

So, it was really no surprise to you when you woke up one day and realized you were madly, deeply, irrevocably, disgustingly, head over heels in love with him.

You had convinced yourself, over and over, that Jungkook knew. How could he not?

It was like this: you had seen a kiss in a television show when you were 11. Pondered what it felt like to do such a thing. It had been a fleeting moment, so innocent—just a brush of lips under the old oak tree in the park when you were 12, surrounded by the laughter of friends and the warmth of summer. But in that brief, stolen instant, something shifted inside you, a chemical reaction. The memory of that first kiss, so pure and untainted, lingered in the air, like a secret only you two shared.

You caught the glint in his eyes afterward, the way he looked at you as if seeing you for the first time, and ever since… well, ever since then, you’ve been his.

When Seo-yeon casually mentioned over drinks one night that Jungkook was sooooo cute and she was thinking of going for it, well, you should’ve been shocked, but how could you be?

She knew exactly what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to take it, even if it meant stepping on the quiet spaces you had carved out for yourself. It stung, of course, the idea that she could waltz in and claim something you had quietly held onto for years. But deep down, you knew the truth. You knew you would never go for it, not really—not with the unspoken barrier between you two, that kiss from ages ago still lingering in the air, in your blood.

And yet, Seo-yeon’s confidence in taking what she wanted, without hesitation or doubt, only reminded you of how much you were willing to give up, just to keep the peace. That’s who she was. And you? Well, you were the one who always let her take.

And all this to say, this is why you were standing with your spine pressed into the cold wall, eyes burning holes into Seo-yeon’s back, fingers digging into your red solo cup, heart thumping, as you watched her flirt with Jungkook.

It was supposed to be a fun night. Key word: supposed. Jungkook’s best friend, Jimin, had invited everyone to his house for a ‘get-together.’ You should’ve known when you got the invite it would be a party, another chance for you to be a wallflower.

And there you were, assuming your post, drinking whatever concoction Jimin’s roommate had created.

It was a tragedy.

The music swirled around you, yet you were caught in the gravity of Seo-yeon and Jungkook’s orbit. Every glance, every word that passed between them felt like a blade to your chest. Her laughter rang out, effortless and bright, and you watched as she leaned in closer to Jungkook, her fingers grazing his arm in a way that made the air between them shimmer with something unspoken. It was too much—too intimate, too easy.

You could feel the tension coiling inside you, a painful knot you didn’t know how to undo.

And before you do anything rash (or well, not that you will, but the thought of it) you hear a familiar voice that calms you down in the slightest.

“Boo.”

You instantly know it’s Taehyung, Jungkook’s other close friend who you’ve somehow managed to also become buddy-buddy with. You kinda had to, just to prove to Jungkook you can make other friends beside Seo-yeon. Tsk.

You lightly smile at him, but you refuse to take your eyes off Jungkook and Seo-yeon, as if you turn away for a second, they may leave you in the dust.

“You know… You’ve been staring at them like you’re waiting for them to start a new Netflix series or something.” He whispers near your ear, as if it’s some massive secret that no one could possibly guess.

You blinked, startled, “I’m not staring,” you mumbled, but Taehyung only raised an eyebrow.

“Sure you’re not. You're practically giving them a live commentary in your head, huh?

You scoff. “I don’t care if they talk. Honestly, I want them to get together. I mean, why not? It’s what she wants.”

His elbow lightly digs into your side, making you slap him away with ease, “Oh, really? Is that what you want? You’re not fooling anyone. You’re practically trying to will them together while simultaneously wanting to rip your hair out.”

“Why would you think I don’t want them to get together?” You roll your eyes.

You know exactly why. And.. may also have to do with the fact that besides your diary, Seo-yeon and yourself, Taehyung also knows about your little infatuation (which, and you remind yourself, only happened because you got quite drunk with him at the bar and admitted it two months ago.)

You don’t see it, but he rolls his eyes his again. “You are the worst liar I know.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted.

He raises his arms up in defeat, “Fine, if lying is the route we’re taking, at least just tell Seo-Yeon to go home. Seriously, who even invited her?"

You finally remove your eyes off Jungkook and Seo-yeon to face Taehyung, who definitely looks drunker than you thought he sounded. “I’m not doing that. And plus, she’s my best friend.”

He snorts, “Really? The same best friend who’s currently talking to the boy she knows you’re in love with?”

Taehyung continues, probably, and you can only assume, because he got you to tear your eyes away from them and their incessant giggles. Really, what is so damn funny? “You’re practically turning into an accessory to the decor. Please go take him away from her. He already adores you.”

Jungkook did adore you—there was no doubt about that. When you both got accepted into the same university, he immediately integrated you into every friend group, every hangout.

But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

The temptation to rip Seo-yeon away, to somehow be the one he turned to, was enough as it is—but the fear of being seen, of finally stepping off the wall and making yourself known, kept you frozen.

Taehyung threw his hands up in mock defeat, still grinning. "Alright, alright, I give up. Do whatever you want, missy. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You looked up at him, frowning, swirling your drink that’s been boiled down to just ice. “Warn me about what?”

“Don’t let this be one of those things you look back on and regret, thinking you should've acted before it was too late.”

You knew Taehyung was right, though admitting it felt like admitting defeat. You thought back to those moments with Jungkook—the way his high fives always lasted a beat longer than they should, or how his fingers would brush against your shoulder in the most casual way, as if it wasn’t just a touch, but something that had meaning beneath it. There were those quiet moments, too, when his gaze would linger, his eyes soft and unreadable, as though he was on the edge of something he couldn't quite grasp.

Deep down, there was that small, quiet part of you that wondered if he ever felt the same—if he ever wondered, like you did, whether you two could be more than just friends.

"Wow, when did you get so deep? You sound like one of those motivational speakers who talks about following your dreams and embracing the moment,” It’s your turn to roll your eyes, playfully pushing his shoulder.

He shot you a knowing look. "Hey, I’m just trying to save you from becoming the wise old lady at the bar telling stories about how you ‘almost’ told Jungkook you liked him when you were young and full of hope."

“Well, thank you for the life lesson.” You looked down at your cup, a heinous purple color now that the ice has completely melted. “I’ll stick to my alcohol for now.”

And he saunters off, weaseling his way through the hoard of people to bully his next victim, you suppose. You were a little tipsy, you won’t lie. With a sigh, you turned your head back to Seo-yeon and Jungkook.

…Where the fuck are they?

Now, it’s time to panic.

You pushed through a few random guys and girls, silently saying excuse me basically to no one but yourself. Vision gets hazy, but you can’t tell if it’s tears or the punch.

Heart flutters, skips a beat. There he is, pouring himself a cup at the drink table that’s been set up in the dining room. No Seo-yeon in sight. You assume you have 5 seconds before she comes back from wherever she is to trap him once more.

You waltzed up to the drink table, trying to act casual, but your heart skipped when you saw Jungkook standing there, grinning like he knew exactly what was going on in your head. He waved you over with that signature carefree smile, his bunny teeth poking out. “Well, well, look who finally decided to show up. Were you hiding from me or just avoiding everyone?”

You blinked, hands suddenly unsure of where to go as you fiddled with your cup. “I wasn’t hiding! Just… you know, blending in with the background. Like I do.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning into something a little more teasing. “Blending in? You? You’re like, the least subtle person here. You stand out more than the punch bowl.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You joked as you lean over him to pour yourself another cup of punch.

He laughed, leaning closer like he was about to share a secret. “Okay, but seriously, where have you been? Where’s your head at? I know, I know I said get-together… but it’s definitely a party.”

“Tsk, tsk. You little player,” You sipped your drink, looking up into his doe eyes. God, he’s just so…

Your curiosity got the better of you. “So, uh... what’s the deal with Seo-yeon? You two talking about something important, or is she just... I don’t know, using you for your impeccable taste in drinks?” The jealousy tugging at your chest made it harder than you expected to sound casual.

A small chuckle escaped him. “Seo-yeon? Nah, she’s just, uh, talking my ear off about some random stuff. Nothing exciting.” He shrugged like it was nothing, his tone so nonchalant it almost made you second-guess why it bothered you. “Honestly, I don’t even know half of what she’s saying. I’m just nodding and pretending to be interested.”

You blinked, surprised that anyone could be bored at anything she had to say. “Wait, really? You’re just... pretending?”

“Yep,” Jungkook grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s a skill I’ve perfected over the years. Maybe you should teach me how to do it with more people, though. I’m still not great at pretending to listen to people who don’t bring snacks.”

You laughed, a bit of the tension in your chest easing. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously, you’re not fooling anyone. You’re way too nice to actually ignore people."

He shrugged his broad shoulders, something you’ve come to notice as he’s grown older. “Possibly, but-“

Your breath hitched when Seo-yeon reappeared, her presence as loud and effortless as a storm breaking the quiet. With a smile that was all too practiced, she glided over, her eyes immediately locking with Jungkook’s, as if the space between them had always been empty, waiting for her to fill it. “Hey, Jungkook,” she purred, her fingers brushing against his arm as she leaned in a little too close, a familiar, flirtatious glint dancing in her eyes. “Still owe me that drink, remember?”

Jungkook’s smile widened, completely unfazed by her proximity. His fingers wrapped around the cup and handed it to her, their hands brushing lightly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Of course,” he said, his voice soft, full of that gentle affection that made you want to stick a fork in your eye.

You felt the familiar nerves rise in your chest, the uncertainty pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t shake. The scene before you felt too much, too close, and you found yourself backing away instinctively, your eyes flickering toward the exit. You just needed to escape, even for a second. But before you could take another step, Jungkook’s voice cut through the hum of the room, warm and easy. “Hey, do you wanna go play darts? Jimin has not shut up about it and I want to test out my skills.”

And he does it again. Digs you deeper and deeper into that dream of yours.

You took another sip out of your cup, locking eyes with Seo-yeon, who, for once in her life, looked nervous. See, if you weren’t 3 drinks deep, and you weren’t so desperate to remove her away from him, you would’ve went back to your post on the wall.

But Taehyung’s words linger in your brain like a broken record.

“You know, actually, I need to steal Seo-yeon away for a quick minute,” You reach out, grip onto her arm like it’s your lifeline. You’re almost certain you draw your fingernails in a little too deep to her skin.

“Huh?” Her eyes widened, blinking a few times.

You dragged her through the crowd, pulling her to the opposite side of the room with a swiftness that leaves Jungkook utterly baffled. He has stopped questioning yours and Seo-yeon’s friendship.

Your nerves buzzed with the alcohol in your system, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. "Why are you flirting with Jungkook?"

There it was, out in the open. Lingering in the air like a cloud of smoke.

Seo-yeon blinked in surprise, her eyebrows rising as if you had just grown another head. “What are you talking about?” she replied with that same airy sweetness, but the underlying edge was unmistakable. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly?” You scoffed, feeling the alcohol’s warmth pushing your boldness forward. “It’s like you’re auditioning for a role in Jungkook’s life or something. You're so obvious.”

Seo-yeon laughed, a soft, dismissive sound. “I didn’t realize you cared so much, [Y/N]. Wow, look at you. Finally standing up for yourself. Guess it only took a little bit of liquid courage, huh?”

She tilted her head, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

All you see is red, and you’re kinda imagining what her head would look like ripped out of its socket.

She keeps pushing, keeps pressure testing, keeps dragging the knife through you. “Whatever. If you want to make this a thing, go ahead. But don’t act like I’ve been the one playing games.”

“You know what?” It’s a rhetorical question, turning back to you with a slight tilt of her head. “If you’re not going to make a move, I’m all in on Jungkook. You’ve had your chance. It’s not my fault you can’t get out of your own head.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and something in you snaps. The rage bubbled up from deep inside you—something you’d never shown Seo-yeon before. She wasn’t allowed to take this from you too.

"Is that it, then?" You shot back, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "You think you can just take everything from me because I'm not bold enough for you? You think you can just waltz in and claim him like he's some kind of prize because you know I won’t fight you for him? That’s not how this works, Seo-yeon."

Seo-yeon opened her mouth to respond, but you weren’t finished. “No. I’m done letting you walk all over me. I care, Seo-Yeon. I care about him."

And now you can’t stop it, this word vomit that has plagued you, it keeps tumbling out, slurred but filled with an undeniable intensity. You didn’t care anymore; the alcohol had loosened every restraint, every last thread of caution. "You’ve known. You’ve known I loved him this whole damn time. You’ve always known, and you’ve always taken from me—always—like you could just have whatever you wanted. I’m done pretending I’m okay with it.”

The silence between you two felt like a storm was brewing, the air thick with tension, and you, a tad too drunk to fully grasp what you were saying, but not so drunk that you didn’t know it was the truth.

Seo-yeon’s lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes flicking to the side before meeting yours again. "Well, you know what they say…the best girl always wins, right?"

You’ve already ruined the friendship, put the nail in the coffin and sent her floating down the river. You gripped your red solo cup so roughly you think it might break, “You think you're the best girl? Maybe it's time someone showed you that I’m done being second place. I’m done being the girl who just watches. I’m going to fight for him. You’ve had your turn, Seo-yeon.”

Seo-yeon’s eyes widened just a fraction, but she quickly regained her composure, laughing lightly. “Oh, really? You’re going to fight for him now? How cute.”

Your jaw tightened, but she didn’t back down. “Yeah. I am.”

And, you are certain if only Taehyung could hear you now, he would throw another party just for you having this conversation. You storm away, leave her in the dust to settle on its own. A part of your resolve breaks a little realizing that your own college best friend since day one of freshman year, was not the person you thought she was. But, that’s not what really matters to you.

The night dragged on, clusters of people fading in and out of the party. You don’t necessarily pay attention, you’re too busy feeling like a World War III hero after your triumph. You laughed with Taehyung in the corner, even flirted with a few people. Anything to take your mind off Seo-yeon desperately throwing herself at Jungkook, but you knew better than to look.

The lights felt dimmer, the music quieter. Jimin, ever the instigator, stood up with a grin that spread across his face like a mischievous secret. "Alright," he said, his voice warm but teasing as he looked around at the gathered circle of about 20 leftover wranglers. "Truth or dare, anyone?"

You broke your conversation with Taehyung, hesitated for a brief moment, heart thudding louder than the music. Normally, you would’ve stayed out of it—content to sit on the edge and observe. But tonight, something inside you whispered that this was the moment to stop being the quiet one.

A laugh rang out from someone in the group. “Really, Jimin? Truth or dare? We’re in our twenties, not twelve.”

Jimin just shrugged, unfazed, the playful gleam in his eyes still dancing. “Don’t care. It’s fun.” As if daring was the only thing that could make the night memorable.

As the silly little game began, you couldn’t help but notice the way Seo-yeon scrambled to sit next to Jungkook, her movements almost too eager, too forced. She slid onto the floor beside him, laughing a little too loudly, her hand brushing his casually, but it didn’t escape your notice.

It didn’t help that Jungkook, who had been laughing and talking with the others, now seemed to catch sight of the silence that stretched between you and your friend. His gaze flickered toward you for a split second, brow furrowed slightly. There was concern in his eyes, like he could sense the shift, the distance between you two, the fact that you hadn’t exchanged a word since the heated conversation. And for a moment, you could’ve sworn he looked... worried. It was only a glance, but it sent a ripple of uncertainty through you.

The game kicked off with such chaotic energy that there was immediate regret of your decision to join, Shirts came off, beers chugged, some over-the-clothes fondling. Laughter and teasing echoed around the room, but you couldn’t seem to join in. Your nerves twisted inside you, coiling tighter with every round. Every time your eyes flicked toward Jungkook, your heart skipped, and you could feel your emotions swirling—confusion, desire, hurt—but the fear of being exposed kept you frozen.

Seo-yeon, on the other hand, was all confidence, sitting smugly in her chair with a knowing smile, like she already knew she’d be the center of attention. Like she knew, deep down, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

Then, Jimin’s voice broke through your fog of thoughts, full of mischief and a glint of amusement. "Alright," he said, eyes dancing as he turned toward Seo-yeon and Jungkook. "I dare you two to kiss for five seconds."

You may as well have just shot yourself right in the face. Your breath caught in your throat. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you watched your (ex) best friend’s eyes light up with the thrill of the challenge. It was as if it was too easy for her—too perfect an opportunity to pass up. Without hesitation, she leaned toward Jungkook, her lips finding his almost effortlessly. The room seemed to quiet for a moment, and then it was the silence that felt louder than anything.

But what made your stomach twist wasn’t just the kiss itself—it was the way Seo-yeon’s gaze flicked toward you just before their lips met. A slow, deliberate look that lingered in the air. The seconds stretched, and you could barely breathe, and your heart was feeling as if it might break right then and there.

The kiss was over before you could even process the feeling of it, but the knot in you chest remained, heavy and tight, long after Seo-yeon pulled away. Jungkook glanced over at you, so briefly you almost didn’t catch it.

Your mind raced, but you struggled to push the images from her head, the lingering feeling of Seo-yeon’s smug gaze before the kiss. You took another sip, the burn of it helping to cloud the pain you didn’t want to face. The weight of it sat like a stone in your chest.

Taehyung’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. “[Y/N], truth or dare?” he asked, his grin teasing as he leaned towards you.

Jimin shot him a playful glare, almost about to protest, but Taehyung was quick, silencing him with a dramatic “Shh.” The room quieted slightly, all eyes on you as you hesitated for a fraction of a second. You were still reeling, but the alcohol buzz had emboldened you—made you feel more confident than you had all night.

"Dare.” You didn’t know where this sudden boldness was coming from, but you couldn’t back down now.

Taehyung’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Alright then,” he said, tapping his fingers against his drink. “I dare you to go into the closet with Jungkook for five minutes.”

The room went quiet for a moment. You felt the weight of the dare pressing in on your chest, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Jungkook’s pointed gaze. Was this a joke? Was it real? Seo-yeon was first to break the ice, who snorted in disbelief. “Are we in fifth grade or something?”

Jungkook, who had been sitting quietly, his drink in hand, suddenly took a casual sip. To your surprise, he looked completely unfazed, almost... eager? “Who cares?” he said with a shrug, as if the whole situation was nothing more than a harmless, impulsive decision.

You froze for a moment. You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or throw up. But there was not much protesting to be done because before you had a chance to speak, Taehyung is up on his feet pushing the two of you in the direction of the musty little closet.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the world outside the closet faded into nothing. Inside, the air was thick with unspoken words, the kind of tension that clung to the walls like the silence between them. You stood frozen, the room suddenly too small, too close. You could feel the heat of his presence even without touching him, the rhythm of his breath matching your own, as if your hearts beat in sync, caught in the same web of uncertainty. The dim light from the party barely reached, leaving you in a space of shadows and soft, anxious breaths.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you spoke. The awkwardness hummed between you like a steady pulse, the weight of it heavy. You’ve known him forever but… you could feel your nerves twisting tighter and tighter, but the alcohol buzz made it hard to think clearly, each thought slipping away just as quickly as it came.

Jungkook finally broke the silence, a nervous chuckle escaping him, his top teeth playing with his lip ring. "This is… um, definitely not how I expected this to go.”

You tried to force a laugh, but it came out shaky, and you immediately regretted it. “Yeah, not exactly the closet of my dreams,” you said, though your voice trembled in a way you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

And then, just like that, Jungkook’s gaze met yours again, but this time, there was something different in his eyes—something softer, more vulnerable. It was like someone ripped your best friend away from you and replaced with someone who might actually.. never mind. He was pressed into you, your height difference showing as his head tilted down to look at you. His lips parted, like he was debating saying something.

Then, with a surprising gentleness, he spoke. “This is going to be so random but… do you remember our kiss?” he asked, his voice low and almost reverent, as if the question itself carried a weight he wasn’t sure how to handle.

You froze. The memories came rushing back, unbidden—a flash of two twelve-year-olds, awkward and innocent, caught in a moment that now seemed so impossibly far away. The brush of lips, quick and uncertain, a first kiss that neither of you truly understood.

But the way he looked at you now, like the past and present were colliding in that quiet, intimate space, made everything feel much more real. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, pulse quickening. He remembers.

“O-Of course I remember,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, your heart fluttering in your chest as the memory of that kiss resurfaced in vivid detail.

Jungkook held your gaze, his eyes dark, searching, as if he, too, was standing on the precipice of something he wasn’t sure he could face. There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched between, thick with everything unsaid. And then, almost in a breath, he spoke again, his voice softer, but his words filled with an unexpected weight. “My mom brought it up the other day. Didn’t know she watched my kissing virginity get swept away.”

“Oh,” you laugh.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he confessed, his gaze never leaving yours. The words hung in the air like a fragile thread.

The confession hit you like a sudden gust of wind, unexpected and sharp. He’s thought about it? Like the way you have, maybe, possibly? Like writing in your diary about him everyday since then? Like dreaming about kissing him again every time you are even remotely close to him?

“So…” he started, breaking the silence, his voice light but with an underlying curiosity. “The last time you kissed someone... was it anything like that?"

There’s those stupid two bunny teeth that poke out in a cheeky smile as he teased you about something that should be so trivial, yet so was not.

Your eyes widened at the sudden question. You didn’t know whether to laugh or squirm. You could feel the warmth creep into your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the clutter in the corner of the closet to avoid meeting his gaze.

“I… What?” You stammered, a little too flustered. "What kind of question is that?"

Jungkook chuckled softly, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes never leaving your face. "Well, I’m just curious. You know, if it was anything like the kiss we shared all those years ago," he teased, his voice deliberately casual.

You rolled her eyes, trying to deflect the attention. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I haven’t kissed anyone in forever. In fact…” You trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence without sounding ridiculous. “You know that. Last time was that random dude at that party last month.”

Jungkook’s smile returned, but it was gentler now, as if he was trying to make you feel better. “So.. What was the last kiss that actually meant something?” he asked, leaning in just slightly, the playful glint back in his eyes.

You knew damn well you couldn’t answer that without revealing too much. The truth was, there hadn’t been a kiss that meant anything—not since you were 12. But you couldn’t say that to him. Not yet.

“Long, long time,” You teased.

For a moment, you swear there’s a glimmer of hope behind his welcoming eyes.

“Maybe I just haven’t found the right guy,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you try to joke your way out of it.

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Must be hard to find someone who’s good enough to even compare to the 'best kiss ever' from when you were twelve.”

You froze, heart thudding in your chest as you realized what the weight of what he'd said. "Damn, you really remember that kiss, huh?"

Jungkook just smirked, his eyes glimmering. "Of course I do. How could I forget?"

And, there’s something that switches in the air, something that makes you realize you’re not as delusional as you think. You’re thinking back to every single time he’s given you that hope to hold onto, every time he has kept the dream alive. You met his eyes, looked into them, felt like you were peering into his soul.

He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice, a sudden seriousness in his tone. “And now… I kind of wish I could kiss you again. See if it feels the same.”

Either you are incredibly drunk, or he has lost his mind. Your thoughts swirled in a haze of alcohol and overwhelming emotions. You blinked, breath caught in your throat, trying to process the weight of his words. He wanted to kiss you again? You could feel the tension between them now, thick and suffocating, like the very air around them was holding its breath. But what was this? What was happening?

Your voice came out shaky, betraying the fear that had lodged itself in your chest. “Where is this coming from, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s expression faltered for a brief moment, as if he hadn’t expected you to be so open, so raw. He took a step closer, his gaze softening, searching yours with an intensity that made your knees feel like jell-o. His voice was quieter now, more sincere, as if trying to reassure you, or maybe even himself. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.. I mean we’ve been best friends for years.”

“I-I, maybe, who cares?” You repeated his words from earlier. “You’re drunk, Kook. We’ve been drinking for hours.”

“I’m not joking,” he said softly, his voice low and full of something you couldn’t quite name. "I wouldn’t joke about something like that."

Your breath hitched as he reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours, as if waiting for you to decide. You could feel the pulse of his touch, and with it, all the years of longing, all the secret emotions you’d kept hidden, pressing down on your chest.

It was almost too much. Too much to process, too much to understand. But the truth was clear now, sitting heavy in the silence between you. You were in love with him. And maybe, just maybe, he felt it too.

Just as the words hung in the air, just as you could’ve sworn that he was about to lean in and finally press his lips against yours, thick with longing and uncertainty, the quiet, intimate space you’d created shattered in an instant. The closet door suddenly flung open with a loud crash, and for a heartbeat, your world spun.

The sudden burst of light flooded the small room, blinding you for a second before you recognized the faces of your friends, all grinning mischievously. Taehyung, ever the troublemaker, leaned against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face. Jimin, with his usual playful grin, stood next to him, his eyes glinting with amusement. And then there was Seo-yeon, leaning casually against the wall, her lips curled in a knowing smile.

You quickly stepped back, face burning as your eyes flicked between them all, still trying to process what had just happened. Jungkook stood frozen beside you, face flushed as he ran a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed.

“Well, well,” Taehyung said with a mock pout, raising an eyebrow. “Look at that. The closet was really the place to be, huh?”

“Didn’t take you two long,” Jimin added with a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “I knew this was going to be good.”

You felt the blood rush to your face, and you could barely look at Jungkook. Your heart was still hammering, a mixture of humiliation and confusion swirling in your chest. You opened her mouth to say something—anything—but words caught in your throat.

Jungkook cleared his throat, taking a small step forward. “It’s not like that. We were just talking.”

“Oh, talking, huh?” Taehyung grinned wider, obviously not buying it.

Your head was spinning. The echoes of the teasing, the laughter, and the flirtation were still reverberating in your mind. You could feel the alcohol mixing with the tension that had built up all night, and it was almost too much to handle. Your thoughts were a jumble—your best friend, Jungkook, the kiss that almost happened, everything was falling apart in a whirlwind of emotions.

The game seemed to fizzle out after a few more rounds, yet you were still sat there, hoping to make sense of it all. The clock slowly ticked by, bodies still trickling in and out of the house despite how late it was. And you probably should’ve made an effort to take to Jungkook, to fight for him, to stand up on your words to Seo-yeon.

And so there you stood, attached to the wall yet again.

Except this time, Jungkook was peeling you off of it. He had enough juice at this point to know better, to care less if he made a fool of himself.

He made his way toward you, his expression tight with something unreadable. “Can we talk?” he asked urgently. You opened her mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, he was already guiding you through the crowd, clutching your hand in his.

As you walked up the stairs, you looked down at the people left over from the night, and you caught a second of a glance from Seo-yeon. Maybe, just maybe, you were going to win this once and for all.

The loud music and chatter from downstairs faded as you made your way up to the quiet of the second floor. When you reached an empty bedroom, he closed the door behind you softly. You both stood there for a moment, a beat of silence hanging between you, thick with anticipation. You twiddled with your thumbs, setting your cup down.

Jungkook turned to face you, his expression full of something you couldn’t quite place—nervousness, uncertainty, and longing. He took a step forward, his breath shaky. "[Y/N].. Am I crazy?”

“What do you mean?” You gulped, pressing your back into the nearby bedside table.

“Is there something here I’m missing with us, are we good? Like, I haven’t spoken to you all night, Seo-yeon is shoving herself down my throat, and you know I hate her. And then… that stupid fucking closet has my head spinning. So, talk to me.”

You couldn’t believe this was happening—couldn’t believe he was saying this out loud.

Without thinking, you whispered, almost inaudibly, "You don’t know?"

Jungkook’s brow furrowed, and he took another small step closer, “What?”

Your heart pounded harder now, hands trembling slightly at your sides. You took a breath, then let it out slowly. Your voice was barely a whisper, but the words felt like they had been stuck in your throat for years. “You had to have known I’ve been in love with you.”

There it was. Out in the open, hanging, lingering. The words dissipated into the air. You started to wonder what magic potion was in this drink that had you ending many friendship tonight.

Jungkook froze, his eyes widening. He stared at you for a long moment, disbelief flooding his features. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. If I had known...”

“If I knew…” he began again, his voice strained, almost as if he were fighting to keep his composure. His gaze never wavered from yours, a storm of emotions swirling behind his eyes.

“I would have...” He swallowed hard, stepping closer to you until he was only inches away, his breath warm against your skin. “... I would have kissed you. A long time ago.”

You felt your chest tighten, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place. You could feel the electric pull between you, every inch of your body screaming to close the distance. But you didn’t move. Neither of you did. The air was thick, heavy with everything you hadn’t said, with everything that had been building between you, allegedly, for years.

Jungkook’s hand twitched at his side, as if he were fighting himself, unsure of whether to make the move or not. His gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes, a tortured look on his face. “Was it not obvious when I let you kiss me when we were 12?” he whispered, almost as if the words had slipped out before he could stop them.

Everything inside you screamed for him to close the distance, for him to finally kiss you when you were older. But the fear, the uncertainty, still lingered. “Jungkook...” you whispered, voice trembling.

Somehow, he always knew just what you wanted to say.

“I know,” he said softly, his face just inches from yours now. "I know."

“It wasn’t obvious, you know,” You began. The fire from earlier that raged when you snapped on Seo-yeon began to reignite, to push itself to the forefront and grow as bright and red as could be. How could he expect you to know? He had dated so many girls, so many people that weren’t you, that you had just started to normalize the fade you did into the background. It was insulting for him to think otherwise. “You dated like 10 girls after that kiss when we were younger.”

“You dated someone too,” He pointed out. True, but.. you only did it because he did. Which is surprising to no one.

“Yeah, but I was always there. I was always by your side, every breakup, every tear shed, hoping and praying you’d finally pick me. But there’s not a good way to say, hey I know we’ve been best friends for years but I’m in love with you. I didn’t, I don’t want to lose you,” You wanted to break his eye contact, look away and start crying into your shirt. But you didn’t. You held your ground.

His face softened, another cautious step taken towards you. “You’re not going to lose me.”

He’s so close now you can feel the nerves, the heat radiating off his body. You can smell that stupid cologne he got last Christmas from his parents. You can see his silver chain glisten under the light bedroom lamp. “Well, if you don’t feel the exact same, then yeah, I will lose you. And for the record, Seo-yeon knows I’ve been in love with you. God, she is such a little bitch. You know I finally ended it with her tonight. She’s insane. But whatever, my point is that if you’re not also in love with me, I’m done, I’m going to move to the US and become a monk. This is humiliating-“

You nor him got to hear the ending of that sentence, because before you know it, his warm hands are cupping your cheeks and pulling you into him, and he’s kissing you. It feels like this: you’re 12 again, under that white oak tree on the playground, your mothers watching a few feet away with a knowing smile on their face. Your heart quickens up its pace, tries to catch up to what is happening. But there’s no use. You’re a goner.

The moment Jungkook’s lips met yours, the world seemed to fall away. There was no party inside, no city stretching beyond the university—just him. Just this.

His kiss was slow at first, testing, as if savoring the feeling of finally closing the space that had been pulling you together for so long. His fingers, warm against your cool skin, tilted your face up to him, deepening the kiss in a way that made your breath catch.

You responded instinctively, pressing closer, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like an anchor. The tension, the longing that had built between you for months—maybe even years—unraveled all at once, spilling into the way he kissed you, like he had been holding back for too long.

You had always wondered what it would be like to kiss him when you were older (especially after he got that stupid little lip ring that had you using your vibrator more often than you liked to admit.)

Jungkook exhaled against your lips, his hand sliding from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his thumb brushed circles against your skin—it all left you dizzy.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, each passing second making it harder to think, to focus on anything but the way his lips moved against yours. He tasted faintly of liquor, of something intoxicating yet familiar, something that made you want to drown in him completely.

“I shouldn’t have waited this long," he murmured, his voice rough, almost regretful. “It’s better than it was when we were 12.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your hands still fisting his shirt. "Then don’t wait anymore."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he leaned in again, this time softer, slower, as if committing every second to memory. His lips brushed yours once, twice—just enough to make your knees weak—before he kissed you fully again. His tongue poked through, and a soft whimper left your mouth at the contact.

Jungkook’s second kiss was different—deeper, more certain. The hesitation that had lingered before was gone, replaced by something more urgent, more consuming. His fingers tightened at your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips parting against yours, letting the kiss deepen in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

You met him eagerly, your hands sliding up his chest, fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt. He groaned softly against your mouth, a sound that sent warmth pooling in your stomach. His tongue brushed against yours, slow at first, coaxing, teasing, before he pressed in more insistently, his hand cradling your jaw as if he couldn’t bear to let go, moving down to wrap a gentle hand around your neck.

Your breath hitched as his grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he held you firm to the bedside table.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, but his hands never left your body, his fingers skimming the curve of your waist, the warmth of his palms making your skin tingle.

You shook your head, breathless. "I don’t want you to."

That was all he needed.

In one swift motion, his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you with ease. A surprised gasp left your lips, but you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried you across the room. His lips never left yours, each kiss deeper, more desperate, as if making up for lost time.

He reached the edge of the bed, lowering you onto the plush mattress without breaking contact. His body hovered over yours, propped up on his forearms, his dark eyes searching yours as he caught his breath.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he admitted, his voice husky, edged with impatience.

You let out a soft laugh, running your fingers through his hair, your own breath coming just as fast. "Then why did we wait?"

Jungkook exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Because I knew, once I had you like this… I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it."

His words sent a thrill through you, but before you could respond, he kissed you again—slower this time, savoring every second. His hands traced gentle patterns against your skin, grounding you, making you feel every ounce of emotion behind his touch.

His fingers moved deftly, swiftly, but there’s a bit of anxiety behind his touch. He kissed down your neck, slowly, agonizingly, to your collarbone… pushing aside your shirt to your shoulder. His knee dug into your thigh, and felt fuzzy from how much he was touching you, everywhere. You let out small whimpers, eager for him to continue, to know what it feels like to be one of his girls.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with something you don’t recognize from him. If he wasn’t your best friend, you would’ve been scared. His fingers ghosted down your chest, to your stomach, playing with the hem of your shirt, almost asking for permission. He doesn’t have to, because you’re propping yourself up and taking it off for him, just leaving your bra out on display. He pauses, takes a moment for himself, realizes he isn’t in a dream when he reaches out and touches one of your tits. It’s like he’s a prepubescent little boy again who has never seen these before.

“God, you’re perfect,” He mumbled, voice shaky, feeling you through your bra. He moved the bra aside a little, sees the hard nipple poking through and removes your entire bra, one hand. He peeled off his shirt, revealing his toned abdomen underneath and that tattoo sleeve he started working on two years ago.

You don’t know when you became such a withering mess underneath his touch but you’re glued down to the bed, imprinted on the mattress. Jimin will have to come peel you off tomorrow morning. “Touch me again,” you whispered out, low enough for him to hear and for his cock to twitch in his pants.

He looked back up at you, taking his attention away from your chest. There was a shift, a change of massive proportions in the air. You know he’s experienced. Everyone knows it. He’s had countless girlfriends, hookups with other friends… you’ve heard the rumors spread like wildfire.

When he speaks, his voice sounds almost pensive. “Has anybody ever made you come?”

The sound you make is much too close to a whimper for your own comfort. Involuntarily, you feel a flutter down there, and you realize faintly just how wet you really are, all of some stupid kisses.

You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s noticed your reaction.

“I- uh,” You’re utterly and totally speechless. The answer is no. None of your boyfriends ever figured it out truly. It’s not like they were studs in the bedroom. So, you would fake it, kiss them goodnight, and go finger yourself in the bathroom to get off. You somehow have a very strong intuition you won’t need to do that with Jungkook. “No, not really.”

His gaze becomes darker, pauses and thinks of his next move. He pushed you back onto the mattress, making room for himself to painstakingly slow move in between your legs. Jungkook lifts your skirt up, revealing your lacy pink panties that have a wet spot engrained right in the middle. “Fucking hell, you’re soaked,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

He looked back up at you. “Do you want me to make you come?”

He can’t be serious. The blood rushed from your face down to your toes.

“P-please,” You whimpered, tugging your bottom lip underneath your top lip. “Please, Kook.”

“I can’t believe no one’s ever appreciated this pussy,” You can’t tell if he’s speaking mostly to himself as he took off your skirt fully, letting it fall on the floor with a soft thump. “You are so beautiful, [Y/N]. I’ve been dreaming about this for months, years.”

You just nod in response, since that’s all you can muster as he drags the pink underwear off your thighs, down your ankles, off your being. You want him to make you come, want him to be the reason you feel immense pleasure.

He’s still babbling to himself, something about how he’s going to wreck you tonight and all that, and then you feel his tongue flatten out on you, making a circular motion on your clit. Your pornographic moan could probably be heard across the entire campus. Your whole body jolts alive, eyes squeezed so, so tight as he worked his tongue repeatedly over your clit, lapping up every ounce of your wetness he can.

Your hand reaches out to grasp at something, anything, clutching his hair and holding his head as his tongue rolls around in between your clit and your entrance. His nose bumped against your clit as your hips began to rock up and down, your body aching for more, anything he could provide you would take it.

“Jungkook,” You breathed out, followed by a string of profanities and moans. He seemed to be pleased by your reaction, his arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling your legs around his head, practically suffocating himself with you.

“F-fuck, how are y-you so good at this?” Your back arched off the mattresss, vision blurry as he continued his assault on your clit. He was so lost in it, so deep in it, he could barely respond.

He pulled away for a second, looking up at you with his big eyes, lips glossy and covered in your slick. You watched as he gathered some saliva in his mouth, spitting it onto your clit and letting his fingers rub your bundle of nerves. “Oh my god,” That elicited another expressive string of words, your chest heaving as you teetered closer and closer to that edge.

You still couldn’t believe this was happening; your best friend of over a decade, eating you out like you were a five-course meal.

He enveloped his lips around your delicate bud and pulled, and you can hardly contain yourself, fingers darting to his locks, the sheets, your abdomen. You can't sit still, can't halt the convulsions, losing all sense of self over your own body. Every which way, on him and off him, thoughts in turmoil and emotions in chaos and sensations askew, and you can't fathom how nobody's ever subjected you to this before, and how have you managed to live without the sensation of Jungkook's lips on your pussy.

His fingers replaced his mouth again, this time, splitting you open with two fingers that glide right in with how overly soaked you are. “Gonna make you cum so good, princess,” He said. “Gonna make you forget any of those lames before me.”

He has to realize that won’t take much convincing. You’ve already forgotten what any other man looks like.

As his lips reconnected with your burning core, all inhibitions vanish. He darted his tongue in and out, in and out, in and… your eyes rolling back in ecstasy, your legs straining to offer him greater access, even to the point of discomfort when your muscles protest, but you crave him closer, deeper, harder, and you're drowning in longing, aching with it. The only anchors keeping you grounded are his hands, the one hand that has wandered from your clit to fondle your tit, the other that is now relentlessly pumping in and out of you.

He's cautious, nearly tender, but it's futile, you're soaked, allowing him continuous entry of his fingers without any struggle, devoid of any tension in your muscles. You're incapable of tightening up even if you wanted to.

“I-I, fuck, Kook, I’m gonna cum,” You whined out in a tone that was half begging, half delirium. You weren’t even sure your body was in control of itself anymore, you just wriggled and thrashed around as he worked you to finish.

“Yeah?” He said against your clit, his breath fanning against you. His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, his other hand rubbing incessantly circles on your clit. It was all too much, far, far, too much. “Fuck, I want you to cum for me. Want to taste you, taste what I’ve been missing all these years.”

It engulfed you completely, resonating within your core, your toes, and your fingertips. It propels you off the bed, leaning forward, fingers clutching his hair, legs quivering uncontrollably, screaming his name over and over like a prayer.

It seemed to go on for hours, his fingers penetrating you through it, his tongue caressing you through it, and all thoughts dissipate under the onslaught of that blinding, electrifying pleasure.

Jungkook persisted, relentless, until you thrusted his head away with vigor, overwhelmed by the sensation to the point of pain erupting like tiny needles. You have absolutely no idea how any girl ever let him get away, but you make a mental note that he will never leave your sight. He leaned over you, hovering over your shaking body.

His head bowed down, pressing a kiss on your lips, and you taste yourself for the first time. It’s a mix of him and you, salty and sweet and warm and dirty. You want it, again and again and again..

But you want him to feel good too. Want to do right by him, make him yours officially, have him scream out your name. You pulled away from his kiss, wiggling yourself out from under him. With a surprising amount of strength you mustered, you flipped the two of you; you’re straddling him, thighs locked on either side of his toned abs. His eyebrows raised, lips still slick and swollen with your juices and saliva and you’re pretty certain you’ll have a stroke if you keep looking at him.

You’re still dripping onto his bare chest, abs now covered in you as well. Probably the second hottest thing you’ve seen so far. You leaned down, kissing him, fighting for some sort of reprieve. You kissed down his jaw, his neck, and his little whimpers send you to a different planet.

He’s just so vocal, and now you can’t get enough.

“Let me ride you,” You said.

He blinked. Was he hearing that right?

“Please,” You pleaded. “I just… I want to make you feel good, Kookie. Like you did for me. Wanna make you happy.”

He smirked, rubbing his warm hands against your thighs, “I’m already happy just like this.” And he’s right, his cock is rock-hard and honestly, he hasn’t ever been like this before with any of his past girls. It’s because it’s you, the girl he called his best friend who used to be the quiet, shy one, is asking him to let her ride his cock.

“Pleaseeee..” You moaned, shuffling your body downwards so your clit was directly above his Calvin Klein boxers, grinding on him slowly like this was a middle school party. You didn’t even know when he had taken off his jeans from earlier, you assumed it was during the time his face was buried in your cunt.

He played around with his lip ring, his nervous tic. “Fuck, yeah, baby just go for it. Show me how you ride your best friend.”

You pulled back to finally get rid of his boxers, to finally see what’s underneath, if the rumors rang rang true. You looked down at his cock, splayed across his lower abdomen, open your mouth to speak and… pause.

“Jungkook,” you began, eyes widened, half horror and half excitement, “I-you’re so… big.”

And the moment you’ve said the words, you regret them. His ego was about to inflate to the size of Jimin’s entire house. He looked up at you through hooded eyes, licking his lips, “Yeah? You gonna take it, baby?”

The pet name made you shudder. “I-I can try,” You stuttered. “I’ve never been with someone this big before.”

He chuckled, his hands coming around to rest on your hips, rubbing circles with the pads of his thumb. You knew damn well he knew how many guys you’ve been with, how many people you’ve fucked, but never their dick size. Didn’t really come up. But, this… well, this was going to be a challenge.

“It’s okay, baby,” He coaxed, “How about you be a good girl for me and start off slow?”

You wanted to be his good girl more than anything in the entire world in that moment.

You can’t even answer, can’t do anything, because he began to align his cock to your sopping entrance, pushing inside of you. It’s excruciating, it’s slow it’s almost impossible to understand how he’s splitting you in half. Jungkook’s head fell back on the mattress, face scrunched up in pleasure, jaw hanging open.

The slide felt almost endless, like you would never reach the hilt of his cock. There’s an endless cycle of Jungkook’s voice spilling endless praise for you taking him so well, that he’s almost all inside, that you already look so full, that he’s never letting you go.

And then finally, when you’re about to tap out and let him get on top, you feel your clit pressed his pubic bone and your body has never felt so entirely filled.

You both let out a simultaneous moan that you’re certain everyone downstairs heard and is getting ready to come upstairs and bang pots and pans at the door.

“I…” Your body gave out a little, and you lean backwards on your palms, giving him a better view of how irresistible you look with his cock so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand traveled to your clit, rubbing circles, “So damn tight, huh? No one’s fucked you like this in a while.”

All you can do is nod.

The sounds are obscene. His cock plunging into your wetness with each bounce of your knees, the headboard slamming against the walls, your own whimpers, Jungkook’s groans. You know they can hear you. And you don’t care. Not one bit. In fact, you want it.

You fell forward a little, gripped onto his chest and dug your fingernails into him. You can’t even think, breathe, can’t remember the last time something has ever felt this ethereal. Your head lulled backwards, fingernails so deep in his skin you’re leaving bruises. Jungkook gripped onto your hips, pads of his thumbs imprinting themselves on your skin. You’re certain he must be pussy drunk or something, because the only things leaving his mouth are blabbers, “… fuck, you are so tight and wet.. fucking beautiful, my best girl so good, need you so bad, always..”

Your hips continued to undulate wildly, and you don’t even know where the confidence is coming from but you felt like some fucking goddess riding this man into oblivion. And you recognized it, he’s so close, his face is contorted, chest heaving, eyes squeezed so tight, committing the feeling of you riding him to memory..

And you never get to see that orgasm (yet) because you hear the door swing open. Jungkook sat up, eyes widened, looking between you and your intruder. But you’re too in deep, too into it to stop, too close, too needy… who gives a fuck if Taehyung or even Jimin sees?

He looked back at you, face flushed with an expression you can’t recognize. You tossed your head back, and you understand why he looks like that. You caught a sight of Seo-yeon’s black hair, and when you turned your body, you saw her figure standing there in the doorway, watching, observing, a tiny (and you have to look hard) smirk on her face.

“Are you going t-to get the fuck out or what?” Jungkook tried to sound tough, but he’s coming undone closer and closer by the second.

And you don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the fact you’re fucking your best friend, maybe it’s the fact you’re still a little drunk off the punch, maybe you’re just a different person than 3 hours ago, but you turned back to Jungkook and go, “Let her stay and watch. Let her see how good I fuck you. Let her know you’re fucking mine.”

You can’t see it, but she blinks at the doorway, jaw unhinged and a gulp of saliva slithering like molasses down her throat. “Fuck, baby, you’re going to make me cum,” Jungkook whined out.

“Yeah, you want to cum?” You leaned back, giving him full access to your pussy and the way his cock is coated with your juices, dripping onto his abdomen, making a mess everywhere. “Tell her you’re mine. Now.”

You don’t even know if she’s still there, you just want him to say it. Even if it’s just for you.

But, he looked back at her, looks back at her petite frame in the doorway, then back at you. “I’m yours. I’m fucking yours, baby. Forever.”

“Good boy,” You leaned your body back into him, press a kiss into his sweaty cheek. You then turn back around to handle her, and it almost makes you want to laugh how she’s now frozen to the wall like you once were. “Now, close the fucking door behind you while I finish him off.”

The door slammed behind her, but you barely noticed or cared. He’s an absolute wreck, singing praises to you and you’re all yeah yeah yeah please please please I’m so close, and he came undone so fiercely he’s struggling to keep it together, to not collapse. He coated your walls, and you clenched around him as you barreled through what might be the most insane orgasm of your life.

There’s a moment where black washed over your vision, jaw ripping open trying to scream his name, or anything remotely in the dictionary, and you’re just putty on top of him as your body shakes and convulses trying to come down.

You fell into him, on top of him rather, hearts struggling to get back to its normal rhythm. He doesn’t want to move, can’t imagine going anywhere in that moment. You finally moved over to his side, nestling into him and you’re certain there’ll be a mold of your body on him tomorrow. He wrapped his arm around you, tugging in as close as he possibly could.

For a while, you just lay there like that. You welcomed the silence, no longer letting it scare you.

“You know, your mom and my mom were plotting on us.”

He’s the first to break through your thoughts. You giggled, tracing circles on his chest, listening to his heart thump thump thump against his ribcage. “I’ve always loved you. I know that. Well, ever since you gave me that Spider Man plushie when we were 11.”

You can’t deny the shit-eating grin that appeared in your face. You weren’t about to tell him you fell into love with him before that, probably when he gave you a Hello Kitty bandaid for one of your ouchies. “Is that so?” You teased.

Into your hair, Jungkook whispered, “Always been mine.”

There’s a wave of something that crashes over you, something you feel deep within you. He’s mine, you thought to yourself. And it makes you blink tears away because of it.

You laid there, peacefully, silently, in absolutely bliss…

“Ugh, Jungkook! Right there! So fucking good!”

“[Y/N], keep going! Your pussy feels so good! Ahhhh!”

“Jimin! Taehyung!” Jungkook roared, reaching up one arm for the pillow on the bed and flinging it at the wooden door, other arm still wrapped loosely around your shoulders.

“Hey, man! You can’t get mad at me! You just had sex in my fucking bed. You’re doing my laundry for six months!” Jimin’s voice cracked at the realization of you two… in his bed… with god knows what juices splattered. He shuddered even imagining it.

“He’s got a point,” Jungkook sighed, running his hand over his face.

You laughed a little, then he did too, and you felt the vibration against your body. There was only him, only now. And as Jungkook pulled you closer, tucking you into the warmth of his arms, you realized— it was supposed to be this easy. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like a risk. It didn’t feel scary. It felt like home.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic

78 notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 16 hours ago

Note

heyyyyy girllll, ik that you already wrote a series about a professor and student, but could you pleaseeeee make a one shot with a virgin reader🥹🥹🥹

Angel

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!vampire!Reader} Newly turned and overwhelmed, one hunger refuses to be ignored. You need guidance, and who better to teach you than Elijah Mikaelson?

♡♡ You didn't specify what kind of teacher.... so I took some creative libertiessss (DON'T BANG YOUR TEACHERS, OKAY?? NOT A WISE THING TO DO(EXCEPT IF THEY ARE A MIKAELSON))~ ♡♡

5k words {whoops} - Warnings: smuutttt, vampire!reader, virgin!reader, first time, a brief Hayley cameo, blood drinking, riding, reader knows what she wants, Elijah talking you through it, teaching, oral sex (f!receiving), feeding during sex, possessive but tender Elijah && a pet name...

"So, you're just going to waltz in and ask him?" Hayley asked, shocked at how blunt you were being.

"Well, yeah," you replied nonchalantly. "How else am I supposed to do it?"

"I don't know," she said, "maybe try being more subtle?"

Hayley looked at you like you'd lost your mind, but you just shrugged, unbothered. The constant hum of your heightened emotions had been driving you insane for days. Hunger, anger, lust. Mostly lust. And no matter how much you tried to control it, you couldn’t shake the gnawing, primal need clawing at you from the inside out.

"Subtlety is overrated," you said, crossing your arms. "I don’t think Elijah would appreciate me batting my lashes and giggling like a schoolgirl. He values directness."

"Yeah, but there's direct, and then there's direct," Hayley shot back, looking equally horrified and intrigued. "I mean, do you even know if he's into you?"

You paused, considering. Elijah was your mentor; your teacher when it came to all things vampire. He was always so composed, so controlled, but there was something in the way he looked at you. He was always assessing, always holding himself back. You'd caught him staring once or twice when he thought you weren’t looking. And there was that one time he murmured something in that low, velvety voice of his about lust being a difficult thing for new vampires to control…

"I think he is," you said simply.

"Okay, but what if he says no?" Hayley pressed.

You smirked, enjoying her mild jealousy. "Then I’ll go take an ice bath and reevaluate my choices."

Hayley groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is the most unhinged plan I’ve ever heard. And I've lived in this house with Klaus."

"Wish me luck," you said with a wink before striding down the hall toward Elijah’s study.

Your hands clenched at your sides as you stopped outside his door, suddenly hyper aware of how fast your heart was racing. Vampire senses made everything feel more. More intense, more overwhelming. But there was no turning back now. You wanted this. No. You needed this.

Taking a breath, you knocked once before pushing the door open.

Elijah sat at his desk, a glass of bourbon in one hand, an old book in the other. He barely glanced up as he said, “I take it this is a social visit?”

You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you. “No, it’s not... well... actually...”

Finally, his dark eyes lifted to meet yours, curiosity flickering across his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You exhaled sharply and walked toward him, each step deliberate. "I want you to teach me something new... Something important."

His brow arched. "What is it that you think you're lacking in your education?"

You stopped in front of his desk, trying not to focus on the way his shirt clung to his toned chest. "I don't need any more history lessons, or lectures on self-control. I know all of that."

"Oh really? You've been a vampire for less than a month, and already you know everything I could possibly teach you?" he asked, an amused smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Not everything," you said, leaning forward to brace yourself on his desk. "I still have lots to learn and there's one lesson I'm hoping you can teach me, and I'd like you to start right now."

His eyes narrowed, darting to your lips for a brief moment before snapping back to yours. "And what, pray tell, might that be?"

You swallowed, nerves clashing with the hunger and lust burning inside you. Then, with as much confidence as you could muster, you blurted it out.

"I want you to teach me how to have sex."

For the first time since you had met him, Elijah Mikaelson actually looked stunned. The glass in his hand halted halfway to his lips, eyes widening fractionally before his expression resumed its usual cool facade. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I beg your pardon?"

You bit your lip, cheeks flushing as you replayed the words in your head, suddenly embarrassed. But no, you had decided, you would be direct.

"Before I was turned... I, uh, I didn't get a chance to, you know, lose my virginity. So, I don't know what I'm doing... And I'm worried if I just pick up a random guy, I might kill him..." You spoke quickly, already regretting opening your mouth. What was wrong with you?

"Are you propositioning me, my dear?"

Something like warm amusement flickered in his eyes, and you relaxed a little, straightening. You expected pity, the way Hayley had looked at you. Judgment. Anything but the glint in Elijah's eyes as they slowly raked down your body, gaze sharpening with interest as it darkened.

A giddy flutter rose in your chest, and you licked your lips.

"Yes."

Silence fell over the room as Elijah set his drink down and stood, walking slowly toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. When he finally stopped, his chest was nearly brushing yours, the proximity making your head spin.

"Tell me, why have you chosen me for this particular lesson?" he murmured, fingers reaching up to trace the line of your jaw.

A jolt of heat ran through you, and you tried to remember how to speak. "Well, you're, uh, a noble gentleman... I trust you."

He chuckled. "I try my best. But are you sure that's the only reason?"

"Um..." You trailed off, his fingers slipping under your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Be honest, angel,"

"Because..." you said, a blush creeping across your cheeks. Angel? He just called you angel.

"Because... I think about you, all the time," you admitted. "Ever since I became a vampire. It's like every feeling is dialed up to eleven. Except my desire. It's a thousand times worse than that, and I can't make it stop. It's torture. And I know it's inappropriate, but..."

"It's not," Elijah interjected, his fingers sliding down the length of your throat. "We can't help what we want, can we?"

You shook your head.

"What is it that you want, my little vampire?"

You swallowed, your eyes flickering to his lips. "I want to kiss you."

His lips curved into a smirk, and then his mouth was on yours, firm but gentle. His lips moved slowly, expertly, and your entire body flooded with warmth, your legs suddenly unsteady. He felt so good. Smelled so good.

Your arms went around his neck, pulling him closer. You had kissed boys before, but it was nothing like this. This was an out-of-body experience, like the whole world was melting away and there was only the two of you.

He moved away far too soon, and a small sound of protest left your lips.

"So eager," he said, tipping your chin up to look at him. "Is that all you want? A kiss?"

You shook your head, a small, embarrassed laugh escaping. "No."

He smiled, his hands moving down your waist to your hips, gripping lightly, pulling you flush against him. "Our bodies have an enhanced awareness of what they want, what they need." He paused, pressing a kiss to the column of your throat, then, so quietly it was almost inaudible, "Humans have sex drives, but ours..."

"Are stronger," you finished in a raspy voice. "More Intense."

Elijah hummed. "Very."

"So, you'll teach me then?"

He chuckled softly, lifting his head to capture your lips in another slow, deep kiss. "Teaching isn't the word I would use,"

A blush spread from your chest to your cheeks. You nodded, wanting more than anything for him to tumble you into bed and show you all the things his thousand years had taught him. He was patient, though, and the way he was kissing you now was driving you mad.

He lifted you effortlessly, and you let out a soft gasp. Before you could blink, you were in his bedroom, him pressing your back into the mattress, his hands everywhere. His lips trailed down the column of your throat, tongue darting out to taste the soft skin.Your hands curling into his chest, nails digging through the fabric of his shirt.

"Don't rip my shirt," he murmured against your neck, and you giggled.

"Sorry,"

"You will be," he said, pulling back to give you a dark smile.

A thrill of anticipation ran through you, and you pushed him onto his back, climbing onto his lap, the heat between your legs throbbing with need. Your lips crashed together again, more frantic this time, more desperate. Teeth clashed, biting, nibbling, sucking. All the while, a heady ache grew between your thighs, and when he cupped your ass, pulling your hips flush against his, you could feel his own primal need straining against his trousers.

You moaned into his mouth, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, needing more. "Please, Elijah," you murmured, sighing at the soft kisses he began to trail along your throat. "I need you."

"Patience, angel,"

With a frustrated groan, you slumped against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His scent surrounded you. Aftershave, musk, something distinctly masculine and earthy. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment. Then you heard it, his blood, pumping steadily beneath his skin, calling to you. You wanted to sink your fangs into him, taste his hot blood coursing over your tongue.

You felt your vampire nature take over, veins protruding beneath your eyes, fangs extending. Instinct urged you forward, pressing soft kisses to his neck before nuzzling his warm skin, hunger gnawing inside your bones.

He chuckled at the gentle, kitten-like kisses you pressed to his neck, your fangs scratching his skin. He pulled your head away, urging your eyes to meet his as a glimmer of amusement danced in his. "So bloodthirsty,"

"C'mon, please." you whined, leaning in and kissing him deeply, trying to press your core against his bulge. You grunted, bucking your hips, starting a rhythm. Fuck he smelled so good, he felt so good, every fiber of your being yearning for his touch.

Your fangs brushed against his lower lip, drawing blood. He hissed, kissing you harder. His fingers tightened against the back of your head as he angled your face to give himself more access. You mewled as your hands clung to his chest, feeling his cock stiff against your stomach was doing terrible things to you.

"Look at me."

You obeyed instantly, his compulsion bringing you to a screeching halt. You whimpered, panting and needy. As his bloody lip healed, a single drop trickled down his chin, and you shivered, licking your lips as you followed the droplet's path with your eyes.

"Relax," he cooed, smirking as he wiped it away. "Don't you worry. I'm going to give you exactly what you want. But," he added in a darker tone, "only when I say."

Swallowing hard, you nodded, bracing your hands against his shoulders. "Okay,"

"Good girl,"

A rush of arousal shot through you at the praise, and a needy whine escaped your lips.

He smirked. "Oh, you like that? Being told what a good girl you are?"

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and his smirk widened.

"Take your clothes off for me," he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You quickly scrambled off his lap, flushed with heat as you stripped, pulling your dress over your head, watching Elijah watch you. His eyes tracked your every move, drinking you in as your bra came off. Then, with your shaky fingers, you hooked your thumbs under your panties, slowly peeling them down your thighs. Finally, you stood in front of him, naked, exposed, trembling, heart pounding in your ears.

"My, you're even lovelier than I'd imagined,"

You ached to feel him, craving more, more, more. A spark flashed in his gaze. You wanted him. Everything about this felt right. Every part of him wanted you too. His restraint was nothing but a mask, all for your benefit. You knew that once he lost his control, he would not be the patient and kind teacher you knew so well. Underneath that carefully crafted image was a beast, a creature of immense power, a force to be reckoned with.

"What's wrong, my dear?"

His voice pulled you from your thoughts, your eyes flitting up to his. A faint smirk played on his lips as his hand slid to your hip, dragging you closer. "Can't remember how to speak?"

You shook your head, unable to form a coherent thought.

"That's alright," he said, kissing his way down the side of your neck. “tell me if it gets too overwhelming,”

You nodded, inhaling sharply as your bare skin brushed his, your hands flat against his broad chest. His lips found yours again, deepening the kiss as his tongue parted your lips. Something was happening to you, this unfamiliar feeling. You could tell something big was building inside, a need, and Elijah was unravelling it, unraveling you.

He chuckled against your lips as he cupped your face, slowly pulling back just enough to gaze at you with those deep, brown eyes of his. He took your hand and sat you down at the edge of the bed.

"Don't be shy," he whispered. "It's just me."

You gulped. Just Elijah. Sure. How reassuring.

The room felt like it was spinning around you, but as you looked at him, everything steadied. He took a step back, unbuttoning his collar slowly. You wanted him. You could barely stop yourself from reaching for his belt, your hunger overriding every thought and impulse. You mustered all the self-control Elijah had taught you, forcing yourself to sit still as your thighs clenched together, the urge to relieve yourself building and building.

Elijah tilted his head, enjoying how desperate you were becoming, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his shirt came undone. He tossed the article of clothing on the ground.

Your eyes drifted over his bare chest, his nice arms and toned torso. A breath escaped you when your eyes moved down to see the defined outline of his cock against the material of his slacks. He was big, so big, so thick, so—

Your face went hot. A jolt of reality hitting you, everything felt so much, all at once. The hunger for his touch, for his taste. The way he smelled so fucking good. Everything was amplified, your every sense alive and thrumming. You bit your lip and watched as his slacks hit the ground and he stepped out of them, your mouth practically salivating.

Elijah was fucking stunning, and all yours.

He smiled and placed one of his knees on the edge of the bed. The movement made it bounce ever so slightly, and your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but the only sound you could manage was a squeak.

He reached for you, pulling you close and capturing your lips in his again. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to surrendered to him, letting yourself feel him, really feel him.

"This is going to feel very intense for you," he murmured in the small space between your mouths, "your emotions and needs heightened. All your senses are in overdrive."

A sigh left you as you opened your eyes again to meet his, dark and full of promises you never dreamed of before. His eyes, they made you tremble, they were so warm, so intense. And when they dropped to your mouth, the heat pooling between your thighs intensified tenfold.

"Don't feed until I say so, you understand?" He pulled back slightly, tilting his head and giving you a warning look, making sure he had your complete attention.

You swallowed and nodded. "I won't,"

"Good girl," he hummed before dipping down to kiss your lips.

His kiss was more possessive, his touch more demanding. Elijah pushed you back into the bed, your hair sprawling around you as he kissed you senseless. His lips left yours and kissed down your jawline, down your neck, to the swell of your breasts. You moaned when you felt his hot, wet mouth close around your nipple, your body thrumming when he nipped your flesh between his teeth, giving the other the same treatment.

The throbbing was intense and so damn good. His mouth was magic as he kissed a path down your stomach, making you feel like your entire being was ablaze, your desire burning deep. You writhed, his lips curling into a smile against your skin. He could probably hear how hard your heart was pounding. He was driving you mad with need.

"Please, Elijah," you breathed, squirming beneath him as his mouth continued to work over you, down your abdomen.

A deep, husky chuckle rumbled in his chest as his lips pressed to the sensitive skin on your inner thighs, teasing, tantalizing you with each featherlight kiss. Your breathing picked up, his mouth so close to where you wanted him. Both of your hands tangled in his dark hair, nerves and anticipation waring in your mind.

His hands came up, parting your knees slowly. He hooked your legs over his broad shoulders, widening his tongue and lapping you from your core to your clit, giving the tiny bud a teasing swirl of his tongue. The moan you let out was low and full of lust, a kind of lust you'd never felt before. Magnified, overwhelming, intoxicating.

"Relax, angel," His lips brushed over the sensitive bundle of nerves with each word, making your heart jump to your throat, making it almost hard to breathe.

Your hips rolled forward, pushing you against his lips, seeking more pressure, more friction. You felt so wanton, so desperate, so needy. You felt him smile against your core as his mouth engulfed you, his tongue swirling and sucking as he slowly pressed his middle finger inside you.

Your whole body stiffened and clenched around him as your mouth fell open. A string of low and soft curses fell from your lips, and your back arched against his bed as he pumped his finger in and out.

"Elijah, oh, oh fuck," your voice broke as another moan escaped you when his tongue lapped at your clit. He curled his finger up inside you, sending a ripple of heat straight up your spine.

You tipped over the edge instantly, a white-hot heat engulfing you. You came in waves, your eyes clenched shut as your head fell back into the plush comforter beneath you. Elijah didn't stop his movements, working you through your climax and beyond until your hips stilled, and your breathing leveled out.

You felt so spent, but the ache inside you only deepened, intensified. You knew what you really needed to quench the fire, you knew that Elijah was the only one who could give you that. Your fangs itched, throbbing behind your gums, ready to come out when the moment was right.

Elijah sat up, wiping his mouth and looking pleased with himself as he looked down at your naked form beneath him. You bit your lip, heat creeping into your cheeks as you smiled at him.

"That was..." you trailed off, unable to form the proper words to describe what the fuck you had just experienced.

Elijah grinned as he dipped back down and pressed a long and loving kiss to your lips. He pulled you closer as you deepened the kiss. He kissed you so sweetly and softly, his hands resting on your lower back and his tongue slowly mapping out your mouth. You hummed into his kiss as you ran your fingers down his toned back, pulling him close.

"Now, my sweet angel," Elijah murmured, tilting your face up so his dark eyes locked with yours. "Are you ready for your final lesson?"

"Yes, Elijah," you whispered, your lips brushing against his. “Please,”

Elijah took one of your legs and wrapped it around him as his cock nudged your core. He was teasing you, moving the tip up and down your slit, making your entire body quiver as he kissed down your neck, finding a spot just behind your ear and nibbling gently.

He continued this pattern, your whines becoming needy and pathetic. Elijah's smirk pressed to your skin as his fangs nipped at your shoulder. Your head rolled back, giving him more room as he suckled on your pulse point.

"Such a good student for me, always listening, always eager." He said between nips. "Are you going to keep being my good girl?"

A strangled yes fell from your lips as Elijah nudged at your entrance. You whined and panted, trying to wiggle your hips and get him to sink his cock inside you, but he only chuckled and gripped your hips, pinning you to the bed as he nuzzled your neck.

"Let's not be impatient," he whispered, the low and possessive tone in his voice made a shiver roll down your spine. "There's so much I have yet to teach you, darling."

Elijah pressed his hips forward, and you felt the tip of him press against your entrance. He moved his face away from your neck as he pressed into you.

Your hands clung to him as you braced for it, this thing, this big, scary thing you never experienced, was suddenly happening. “It's okay," he hummed, "just breathe, angel,"

Your face felt warm as you looked at him and took a deep breath. He leaned forward, kissing your lips lovingly as his hands squeezed your hips, pulling you closer, sinking deeper.

His thrusts were slow, languid, intense. Elijah held himself up on his forearms, caging you as he looked down at you. Your mouth parted as your eyes locked with his. His slow and teasing rhythm had you trembling beneath him.

"My sweet little vampire," he purred, a deep sound in the back of his throat. "So good for me."

The words of praise were too much, the sight of Elijah above you, the feeling of him inside you. Your nails raked down his back, digging into his skin, needing him closer, wanting more, desperate to consume it all.

A sudden vampiric urge took over, and you pushed on his chest with all your strength, he chuckled and sat back, letting you take the lead with a smirk on his face. In one swift move you were straddling his lap, sinking back down onto his cock and making both of you moan.

You were running on pure instinct as you began to move your hips, trying to find the right rhythm. He cupped your ass in his hands, his thumbs stroked your skin gently as you bounced up and down on his lap.

"Like this, angel," he said softly, repositioning your knees as you gripped his shoulders. "Here," he pulled one hand away from your ass to show you the correct motion to roll your hips with, guiding you until your movements matched his instructions.

"A fast learner in all things," He purred as a grin formed on your face, making him smile in return. You kept the movement of your hips steady, trying to control the bloodlust in your peripherals.

Your hips slowed and you leaned forward to kiss along his neck, your fangs extending, and a new feeling came over you. A hunger that couldn't be filled by blood or sex. This hunger needed both, primally, simultaneously. And it had a target.

You felt him grip you a little tighter as your hips rocked a little faster. The bed began to creak softly beneath you as you increased your rhythm, his head rolled back with a soft moan. The sound only spurred you on.

Elijah gripped the back of your head and pulled you up for a kiss. He moaned into your mouth when you swirled your hips. The movement caused your clit to rub against him, giving you that delicious friction you so badly needed.

The wild hunger was taking over, obscene bloodlust. Clouding all reasoning. Your fangs ached with a painful desire to bite him, sink into him, take his blood.

"Elijah," you murmured between kisses. You couldn't wait any longer. Your eyes were black, your fangs extended, veins dancing under your eyes, and Elijah chuckled at the look. "Elijah, can I—"

He kissed you harder, his grip on your hips tightening. "Take what you need, angel,"

A growl came from the back of your throat, and your lips went straight to his neck. The moment you sunk your fangs in his skin, he moaned deeply, making your clench around him.

Time seemed to fall away as you tasted Elijah's blood. It was rich and sweet, nothing like anything you'd ever tasted before. It felt like you were in some sort of haze, unable to stop yourself from bouncing and moaning in Elijah's lap as you fed on him. Blinded by pure and unadulterated pleasure.

It was heaven, pure and simple, the taste of him. A moan rumbled from the depths of his chest, and you felt the reverberation of his groan through his neck.

You were drunk off his blood, high off his touch. Everything about him was intoxicating. The sounds, the taste, the feeling, the sin of it all.

"Don't stop," he groaned. "Fuck, don't stop."

You couldn't even if you tried. You would never disobey an order from him. Your hips were moving at an almost inhuman pace, the taste of his blood only adding fuel to the fire inside. He was all yours, and you were his. Blood, sex, breath, skin, all intermingling. You felt his hand come up and tangle into your hair, holding you to his neck as his other hand moved to the small of your back, adjusting your rhythm to an inhuman level.

"Just like that, angel, fuck," his voice was a strangled whisper, his head rolled back as a loud, throaty groan left him.

The way his body stiffened, the way he moaned, and the way his hips snapped up into yours, his cock thrusting deep into you had you seeing stars. You were coming, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

It was all too much. His blood, his cum, the feeling of him deep inside you, the taste of him on your lips, the scent of him everywhere. Everything exploded at once. White hot fire rolled over and under your skin, like you were being consumed by napalm.

He moaned deeply as you rode out your orgasms, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you firmly pressed against his chest. You panted, trying to catch your breath as his mouth found yours, he bit down on your lip, your own blood flooding his mouth, mingling with the taste of his. Completing the connection, blood mixing, becoming one.

You were panting, breathless, sated. But the need wasn't gone. The hunger lingered. The desire remained. You didn't think it would ever be fully quenched.

Elijah pressed a few gentle kisses to your lips before he laid down, bringing you with him. He shifted so that his softening cock slipped out of you and cradled you in his arms, kissing the top of your head as the two of you lay there in silence, catching your breath.

Your body felt exhausted and sore, but so fucking good, too. Your head was swimming as Elijah looked at you with a tender, loving gaze, a hint of pride lingering in the brown eyes that studied you. You felt your face grow hot under his scrutiny, feeling self-conscious from how intensely he was watching you.

Elijah’s fingers traced idle circles against your back, his breath warm against your temple. "You’re thinking too much, angel," he murmured, amusement laced in his voice.

You hesitated, then sighed. "I just... I don’t know what this means to you." The words felt clumsy now, uncertain in a way you hadn’t been when you had marched into his study and asked him to ruin you.

Elijah hummed, tilting his head like he was considering something. "Curious," he mused. "You certainly weren’t so hesitant when you strolled into my study and propositioned me like one might ask for a book recommendation."

The heat that bloomed across your cheeks was now traveling down your neck. "That was different."

"Was it?" He chuckled, low and indulgent. "You seemed quite certain then. So impatient, so eager. So hopelessly distracted during our lessons. Tell me, was it always lust muddling your focus, or was it just me?"

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. "I regret everything."

"No, you don’t," he countered, the smug grin evident in his voice. "But tell me, angel, why the sudden uncertainty?"

You bit your lip, the vulnerability creeping back in. "I don’t know if this was just... a lesson for you. That this is just casual,"

Elijah stilled for half a second. Just long enough for doubt to gnaw at you. Before he tipped your chin up, his eyes were dark but soft. "You are a rarity," he began, voice like silk. "Fascinating, infuriating. Bold enough to challenge me, reckless enough to walk into my study and ask the unthinkable. Do you know how long it has been since someone has surprised me?"

You swallowed hard, and he smiled. "That is why I call you angel," he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. "Because I look at you and I see heaven."

Your chest ached at the weight of his words. He had called you angel from the moment he agreed to this. He had looked at you with something unreadable, something reverent, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world.

Elijah was right; this was a lesson for you, but not the one either of you had expected. It wasn't about control, or restraint, or blood. It was a lesson in trust, in opening your heart, and it was the last thing either of you had thought to expect.

And as Elijah leaned down and kissed you again, his hands gentle and possessive and loving all at once, you knew it was the beginning of something wonderful.

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #hayley marshall #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #elijah mikealson smut

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daeniradraconis · 3 days ago

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The Leafs Legacy - Auston Matthews

Okay, so @tonyspep you gave me the sweetest idea with your comment! I know you were hoping for a more gentle Auston teaching his daughter to skate, but I thought the first game could be way more exciting! Hope you still love this take though!

So, here's daddy Auston being the proudest coach at his baby girl's first game. A few Leaf players make an appearance too. It's all about the fluff and cuteness! I just needed to write something like this today to make myself smile, and I hope it does the same for you! 💕 For more fun: masterlist❤️

—-

The arena buzzed with excitement—a lively mix of proud parents, devoted fans, and an entire section filled with Toronto Maple Leafs players, all gathered to witness history: the very first game of the newly established Leafs Girls' Program. And at the heart of it all, standing tall behind the bench in his team-issued jacket, was Auston Matthews—head coach of the future generation of hockey stars.

You still remember the promise Auston made when Clara was born. At the time, you thought he was joking about starting a Maple Leafs girls’ team, but that stubborn fool never let it go. For nearly a year, he hounded the directors and senior managers, relentless in his mission. You’re pretty sure they only gave in just to stop him from spamming their inboxes with proposals and cornering them with passionate speeches. But now, seeing the pride in his eyes as he watched his team, you knew—he had won.

From the stands, you held little Auston Jr. close, his tiny Maple Leafs onesie making him look impossibly adorable. At just three months old, he had no clue what was going on, but nestled in your arms, surrounded by the bright lights and the roar of the crowd, he was completely content. And in that moment, so were you.

You and Auston had talked about having more kids after Clara turned one, but life didn’t unfold as expected. Months turned into years, and despite your best efforts, nothing happened. Eventually, you both quietly let the topic go. But then, just as you were getting ready to settle into your life as a family of three, at nearly 36 years old, you found out you were pregnant. It was a shock—a miracle.

When you told Auston, he cried like a baby, overwhelmed by emotion. And to be honest, you were a hot mess too, crying and laughing at the same time.

You may not have ended up with enough kids to fill a hockey team, but you were surrounded by love—cherished by your little ones, who meant the world to you. The small moments of chaos and laughter, the sleepy snuggles, and the endless hugs were all you needed. And as for Auston, he never let you forget, that he was right about one thing: you were an absolute smoke show MILF.

But then, your attention naturally shifted. You glanced over at the ice, where Clara stood, her little figure tiny against the rink. She wore an oversized Leafs jersey, her pink and purple helmet snug on her head, and her tiny hands gripped her stick with surprising confidence. She looked so small out there, but the look in her eyes? That was all Auston. You could see the fire, the determination—just like her dad. In that moment, you knew she was going to make her own mark, and maybe even take after her father in more ways than one.

Auston paced behind the girls on the bench, hands on his hips, barking out encouragement like he was coaching a Stanley Cup Final.

Mitch, sitting right next to you, burst into laughter, nudging William. "Oh my god, look at him," he snorted. "He’s gonna lose his mind before the game’s even over."

William grinned, shaking his head. "I’ve never seen him this hyped, and we’ve played playoff games with him."

The rest of the guys joined in, chuckling at Auston’s visible excitement. Your heart swelled with warmth. You knew how deeply Auston loved his team, so seeing them here—supporting him, even if they were absolutely going to tease him about this later—meant the world to him.

You laughed along with them, bouncing little Auston Jr. in your arms. "He’s ridiculous," you said, shaking your head. "But you all know you’re going to be just as bad in about two seconds." You shot them a teasing grin, but Mitch and William both shook their heads in disbelief, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.

And sure enough, the game finally started.

"Alright, ladies! Keep your sticks down, eyes on the puck! Clara, get ready!" Auston called out.

Clara looked back at her dad, giving him a firm nod before turning her attention to the faceoff. You couldn’t help but smile—she was only five, yet she carried herself with the same intensity Auston did before a big game.

The puck dropped, and the game was on.

Clara skated forward, her tiny legs working overtime as she chased after the puck. The other girls scrambled in every direction, but somehow, she managed to gain control. She took a few unsteady strides before taking what could only be described as the most adorable shot attempt ever. It wasn’t the hardest shot, and it wobbled a bit, but it went straight into the tiny net.

The arena erupted into cheers.

Auston lost his mind.

"YES, CLARA! THAT’S MY GIRL!" he shouted, jumping up and down. He turned to the Leafs players in the stands, waving his arms wildly. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! GOAL SCORER GENES!"

And as you predicted, Mitch and Willy shot up from their seats, cheering like maniacs.

"Future first-liner!" Mitch called out, clapping his hands.

McMann grinned and joined in. "She’s got her dad’s shot. Go, Clara baby!"

You shook your head, laughing as Auston continued his excited antics on the bench. Clara, meanwhile, looked up at her dad, her little face beaming with pride beneath her helmet.

She skated back to the bench, nearly tripping in her excitement, and Auston scooped her up the second she reached him. He lifted her high in the air, twirling her around.

"You did it, baby girl! First goal of many!"

Clara giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. "Did you see, Daddy? I scored!"

"I saw!" he beamed, pressing a kiss to her helmet. "And I think that means ice cream after the game. What do you think?"

Clara gasped, her little eyes going wide. "With sprinkles?!"

"With all the sprinkles in the world," Auston promised, setting her back down on the ice. "Now go get another one, superstar."

She grinned and skated off, ready for her next shift.

Back in the stands, you turned to the guys beside you, only to find them still on their feet, cheering as if Clara had just won the Cup.

Mitch was cupping his hands around his mouth. "SIGN HER TO AN ELC RIGHT NOW!"

William was whistling, and Bobby nodded approvingly. "She’s a natural."

You smirked. "And here I thought Auston was the only one who’d lose his mind over this."

Mitch turned to you, completely serious. "Are you kidding? That was ELITE."

William grinned. "We should be scouting her already."

You just shook your head, laughing as they continued their proud-uncle act. Meanwhile, Auston stood at the bench, hands on his knees, grinning from ear to ear as he watched his daughter—eyes filled with pride—like she had just scored the game-winning goal in the Stanley Cup Final.

Little Auston Jr. stirred in your arms, and you glanced down at him, brushing a soft kiss against his tiny forehead. "Looks like you’ve got some big skates to fill, little guy."

The game continued, filled with more adorable chaos, but in that moment—watching your husband on the bench, your daughter on the ice, and your newborn son in your arms—you knew one thing for sure.

This was happiness. This was everything you had ever dreamed of—and more.

Note: ELC = Entry-Level Contract. An ELC is the standard contract given to rookie players entering the NHL, typically when they're signing their first contract after being drafted.

#toronto maple leafs #auston matthews fic #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews x reader #Auston Matthews x you #nhl fic #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #auston matthews blurb #am34 #auston matthews

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maybejj · 16 hours ago

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The Beginning of Us Part 4

babydaddy!rafe x sweetheart!reader

masterlist

warnings: mentions of child abuse

summary: You and Rafe were high school sweethearts that continued into college however Rafe went down the wrong path and you found out you were pregnant. 4 years later finds you and Rafe trying to navigate co-parenting your 3 year old son while overcoming life’s obstacles and past experiences.

word count: 2.5k

You sent a tired smile in your son’s direction as you watched Asher play with his tractors on the kitchen table. He had refused to eat dinner unless he could bring his tractors with him. You had said no at first because the kitchen table wasn’t a place to play, especially when you and Rafe were eating dinner but Asher had been grumpy all day, fighting you on everything you asked him to do so you gave in. Had Rafe been there when it happened, he would have taken your side and Asher would be frowning in the seat he currently sat in. But Rafe wasn’t there. Because you two didn’t live together.

One of the cons of co-parenting, you thought bitterly. He had only shown up 30 minutes ago for dinner. Some meeting he had ran later than he expected. As usual. But he had promised Asher he would come for dinner and if that man makes a promise to his son, he always kept it. It was something that made your eyes tear up if you thought too much about it because you knew Rafe could be a cold hearted, stern, unforgiving man until his son was involved. Then he would bend over backwards, reschedule or even leave meetings just to make sure Asher was taken care of. Nothing was keeping him away from his son.

“You gotta eat your dinner buddy. Put the tractors down. You can play after you’ve eaten a few bites,” Rafe sent a look Asher’s way. He was using his dad voice and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you. His deep voice sending shivers down your arms, settling somewhere deep in your chest close to where your heart was. When Rafe took that tone, Asher always listened.

“Okay daddy.”

Asher clumsily picked up his fork and started scooping his mac and cheese. He was making a mess and proceeded to get it all over his mouth but he was eating his dinner, finally. You’d take a win where you could. He would take a bath after dinner anyways.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Rafe cleared his throat, looking up from his plate to glance at you across the table.

“What’s that?” You furrowed your eyebrows. Rafe was shuffling in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. He seemed nervous which was out of character for him which in turn made you start overthinking. He only got like this when he was about to bring up a topic you wouldn’t like.

Rafe looked to his left, making sure Asher was somewhat preoccupied with his dinner and tractors before looking back at you, “There’s this charity ball our company is throwing next month. Suppose to be a big event, raise money for a charity of our choosing, that kind of thing,” Rafe stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued, “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

You were bringing the fork to your mouth for another bite as the words left his mouth and the shock of what he said made you unconsciously drop your fork. It landed with a loud clattering sound against the table before bouncing off and hitting the ground. The sound got your son’s attention and he looked your way with a wide eyed expression.

“Mommy, you made a mess!”

You felt stuck. You couldn’t move, couldn’t acknowledge your son speaking to you, couldn’t look Rafe in the eyes, couldn’t do anything but think about what he said.

He wanted you to go with him to this charity ball his work was throwing which meant dressing up and showing face in front of everyone he worked with. Or rather, that worked for him. He was the CEO after all.

But you weren’t together. You just co-parented with him which worked for you and you got no complaints from him about it. It wasn’t perfect by any means but it was what worked for your family. You got along great after Rafe cleaned up his act once Asher was born but you never got back together. It was too difficult to think about a relationship when Asher was a newborn and Rafe was dealing with sobriety. Instead, you both settled into this routine of taking care of Asher and raising him. That’s all your life revolved around anymore.

“You have to clean up your mess, Mommy. I’ll sing the clean up song for you!” Asher was unaware of the silent crisis you were having as you tried to get your brain to catch up to the current moment and do something.

You were vaguely aware of Asher signing ‘clean up, clean up’ over and over as he attempted to clean up the mess on the floor but you felt frozen. Going to a charity ball with Rafe would certainly give everyone the impression that you were back together and you didn’t know if you were ready for that life. It was also an event that didn’t extend the invite to little children. That thought alone broke you out of your trance.

“No one would be able to watch Asher,” You finally made eye contact with Rafe.

Rafe visibly let out a breath, like he was expecting a different response from you, “I already asked Sarah. She said she wouldn’t mind staying the night with him just in case we came back late.”

“Aunt Sarah?!” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Asher stop cleaning and his singing stopped abruptly.

You winced. He loved his Aunt Sarah and it had been awhile since he spent time with her. You just don’t know if you could leave him alone after what he went through.

“Yeah buddy, how’s a sleepover with Sarah sound?”

“Wait a second, Rafe. I didn’t say I would go,” You frowned. He was assuming you would go and in turn getting your son excited for no reason. You weren’t sure you wanted to go to a charity ball with Rafe and you damn sure weren’t thrilled about having Asher out of your sight.

“Why wouldn’t you? We’ve got someone to watch Asher. It’ll be fun,” Rafe said, smiling gently at you.

You had no doubt it would be fun. His company was known for throwing big parties and supporting a lot of the local charities. They always went above and beyond. The parties were extravagant and the talk of the town. All the food and wine was imported. Everyone who was someone attended.

“There’s just a lot to think about. It’s not as simple as you make it seem,” You stood from your seat at the table and squatted beside your son to wipe down the floor.

“How is it not simple?” Rafe scoffed. He was shaking his head as he pushed his food around on his plate with his fork. He was getting frustrated by your lack of giving in so easily.

“You know why. Going to a party like that is a big deal. People will talk,” You send him a look over Asher’s head.

“Mommy I talk!” Asher poked your arm as he grinned at you.

Despite the rising tension in the kitchen, you smiled at him, “Yes baby, you do. Why don’t you go play with your tractors in your room before bath time?”

“Okay!” He quickly grabbed his toys off the table and zoomed down the hallway to his room.

With Asher out of the room, you stood and grabbed the plates from the table, dinner long abandoned. You walked over to the sink to set the dirty dishes down gently before turning back to Rafe. You leant against the countertops and crossed your arms against your chest.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go with you.”

“But why? Give me one good reason.” Rafe stood from the table now, walking closer to you. He stopped a couple feet in front of you, not wanting to overcrowd you. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked annoyed.

“For starters, Asher will be left alone-“

“He won’t be left alone, Sarah is going to watch him.” Rafe cut you off, raising both of his eyebrows as he looked pointedly at you.

He was right. You knew Asher wouldn’t truly be alone but in your mind, if you or Rafe weren’t with him he might as well be.

It had been 6 months since Asher was physically abused by the person who use to watch him during the day while you went to work. He was doing so much better since it happened but you found yourself frozen in time and unwilling to move on. It was hard to when all you could picture was Asher in the hospital. You still had nightmares about it. You just wanted to protect him at every waking moment and you couldn’t do that if he wasn’t right beside you.

“Rafe, I just think it’s best if I stayed with-“

Rafe groaned cutting you off once again. He drug his hands over his face and leaned his head back to face the ceiling, collecting his thoughts. He stayed that way for a couple of seconds until he tilted his head forward to look at you again. His face softened as he saw your wide, teary eyes and he knew this ran deeper than just going to some stupid charity ball with him. He knew that wasn’t the main concern.

Rafe took a calculated deep breath and started walking to you, speaking softly, “I know you have a hard time leaving him with someone else since it happened but he’s better now. His therapist even said he’s making good progress,” Rafe raised one of his hands towards the hallway, pointing to Asher’s room, “You can’t keep hovering over him waiting for something bad to happen. You need to live your life too. I want what’s best for both of you. You know I would never put him in harms way and leave him with someone I don’t trust. Sarah loves him and she would do anything to make sure he was taken care of,” He was speaking so quietly now, like he was scared to run you off.

You squeezed your eyes closed. You were trying not to let the tears fall. You knew he was right, you needed to live your life but Asher was your life. He represented everything that was good in your life. Your heart clenched at the thought of leaving him alone for more than a second.

As you started to breath heavier and faster, you felt Rafe’s hands hovering over your shoulders. You could sense his hesitation until you opened your eyes and found him standing right in front of you.

His hands finally made contact with your shoulders and he gave them a gentle squeeze before letting them trail down your arms. The faint touch of his fingertips as he drifted down to your hands had you relaxing into his touch. You didn’t even realize how tensed up you had been.

Rafe’s fingers threaded through yours and you felt a light blush rising on your cheeks. It had been a long time since you were so close to him. It was an unspoken rule that you weren’t intimate in any way with each other, scared it would lead to something else but you allowed yourself this one moment with him.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t losing yourself in his comfort.

“Come with me baby,” Rafe softly whispered. He was so close you could feel his breath on your cheeks.

At the mention of the nickname you hadn’t heard in years, you let out a soft breath of surprise. He was making you feel emotions you had pushed deep down for years. He was your first kiss, first love, first everything. He was the father of your child. He was in your life daily and when he was holding your hands while calling you baby and pleading with you to go with him to some party for work it was hard to say no.

You found yourself nodding, unable to speak. You were so entranced by him and his warmth. The simple gesture of him being so close to you was calming you down and making you lean into him. Your forehead gently rested against his chest where you could hear his heart beat. It was beating at a faster rate than what you considered normal which had you smiling softly.

You glanced up at him and saw his face was already angled down in your direction. Your nose briefly brushed against his and warning bells were going off in your head to back away before this went too far but you couldn’t care to listen to them.

His blue eyes were staring right into your own, holding your captive. You held your breath, physically holding yourself back from leaning up and closing the distance. Rafe seemed to be debating with himself as he searched your eyes. It felt like time stopped as he finally came to a decision. Just as you thought you saw him start to lean down, you heard a gasp from the hallway.

You both untangled yourself from the other quickly, Rafe dropping your hands as you stepped back from his chest and put some distance between the two of you. Your eyes found your son standing in the hallway with his Spider-Man toy in one hand and his favorite tractor in the other.

“Are mommy and daddy kissing?!”

“No!” You and Rafe said simultaneously. You started shaking your head while Rafe cleared his throat.

Asher looked very confused as he looked between his mother and father.

“It’s getting closer to bed baby. Let’s go get ready for bath time,” You stepped forward, trying to change the topic and get out of the kitchen where the atmosphere still felt charged from the earlier interaction.

Asher instantly groaned and let out a whine, stomping his little foot against the ground, “I don’t wanna go to bed.”

Before you could say anything to tame his oncoming temper tantrum, you heard Rafe speak behind you.

“Don’t give your mom an attitude. You know better. Now listen to what she said and go get ready for your bath.”

Asher’s head instantly dropped to his chest as he turned and slowly walked toward the bathroom across from his room. It was disheartening to see him so upset but you were grateful Rafe stepped in. You found yourself growing tired with each passing second and weren’t sure if you could handle one of Asher’s temper tantrums right now.

You turned toward Rafe and mouthed a ‘thank you’ as you followed Asher down the hallway. Rafe nodded in your direction and you saw him busy himself with cleaning the rest of the table off as you stepped into the bathroom.

As you turned the faucet on to get the water warm enough for your son, the realization of what you agreed to finally hit you.

You would be attending the most anticipated party of the year as Rafe’s date. It would also be the first time in years you and Rafe did something together without Asher tagging along.

You swallowed thickly. You could do this.

Right?

taglist: @bee-43 @lillell467 @marleymarleymarleymarley

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queerdeans · 2 days ago

Text

Five Acres on an Unnamed Road

Summary:

Cas buys a five-acre lot on the outskirts of Lebanon. Dean builds a house. For @destielvalentineszine2025 organized by the lovely @disabled-dean and @butch--dean — there are still three days to submit your work for the zine! 💚💙

The bunker walls are too close and its darkness too absolute for Castiel to live there comfortably anymore. Everything reminds him of the Empty, though it’s been five months since Jack pulled him out. It’d only taken Jack a few days to decide he didn’t want to play the role of Absent God from some miserable corner of the universe, but instead, he wanted to let the universe keep trucking while he lived as normal a life as possible in Lebanon, Kansas, where his family was.

Five months since Dean had opened the bunker door to see Cas standing there. Five months since the bone-crushing hug that had threatened to break Cas’s body, newly sewn back together.

Four months and twenty-nine days since the first tentative, uncertain kiss.

But who needs to count when you have a lifetime at your fingertips?

Cas insists on driving to the store one bright and bitter-cold day, and Dean lets him take the wheel, which is one of the many ways Cas has learned that Dean Winchester says I love you. When Cas diverts from their well-trod route into town, Dean’s quiet; he likes when they do new things, even if it’s just driving on a road they haven’t been down before. He loves to stretch into their newfound free will, to explore the infinite paths forward that they have available to them now. But when Cas slows down next to a wooden sign, whose careful FOR SALE lettering has been plastered over with a SOLD sticker, Dean frowns.

The land is blanketed with heavy snow and is mostly flat. There’s a half-hearted, drooping wooden fence that travels the full perimeter of the five acre lot. Cas knows this because he’d walked the entire thing the week before, the snow soaking through his shoes, the cold whipping at his face. But he hadn’t needed to; he’d known from the second he saw the for sale sign that he would buy it.

Dean’s been pretty set on living an honest life lately, so Cas forewent asking Jack to work a small-scale miracle or getting Charlie, whose Apocalypse World counterpart is every bit as savvy as the Charlie Dean and Sam had met a decade earlier, to forge some loan documents. Instead, he made a few calls, spread the word about what he wanted to do, and the money came pouring into his newly-created checking account at the Kansas Federal Credit Union, courtesy of their network of friends both near and far.

Now, as Dean hesitantly gets out of the car, Cas pulls the title from the glove compartment. He rounds the Impala and hands it to him wordlessly. Dean peers at the paper and then up at the land in front of him, and slowly, a smile spreads on his face.

“Who’d you have to bribe?” he asks.

Cas shrugs. “A lot of people love you, Dean, and were happy to pitch in. All they ask is that we host a housewarming party.”

Dean laughs in half-shock. “A housewarming party? There’s no house here.”

“Not yet.”

The land stretches out in front of them, curving away with the horizon. The lot is quiet, settled beneath the wide prairie sky, and is nestled in between two family farms. The earth is fertile and ready for planting deep roots, ones that might stay awhile.

It takes a year for there to be a house. The earth is still mostly frozen when they break ground. Dean’s wearing a hard hat and grinning ear to ear, and when he digs the shovel into the dirt, he lets out a loud whoop of joy. Jack takes a picture and Sam shakes his head and Eileen consults yet again Dean’s questionably-sound building plans. Cas just watches Dean, hands shoved in the pockets of his winter coat, amazed to be alive, to be standing here, to be with his family on a cold day.

Used to be, the entire world was his to watch over, and he’d grown bored with the millennia. Now, entire centuries worth of joy pass between his eyes and Dean’s as they stand on the little patch of dirt that they call their own.

Over the next year, Dean insists that his brief experience working construction while living with Lisa is sufficient. And in the end, it proves to be, though the construction is not without significant hiccups. Dean nearly dies several times of perfectly normal, stupid, and preventable causes, which, after the danger has passed, seems to somewhat delight him. He falls from a ladder but only breaks his tibia; he nearly shoots himself in the head with a nail gun, but doesn’t; and there’s an incident involving a territorial opossum that he refuses to speak about.

Cas has never seen him so happy.

Dean won’t let Jack or Cas use any of their God-or-angel mojo on the house, and for awhile he doesn’t even want Sam helping out. But as summer begins to stretch itself out and Cas’s anxiety to get out of the bunker increases, Dean capitulates and lets Sam, Jack, Eileen, and Cas help out more frequently. Jack turns out to be a natural with power tools, though Cas catches him cheating with his God-powers every now and then when he thinks no one is looking. Eileen reveals herself to have roofing experience (“What? Can’t a woman have a life?”) which comes in handy. Sam and Dean bicker about stupid things that have nothing to do with Lucifer, Michael, Hell, or the world ending, but rather building codes, railing lengths, and types of wood — and they both enjoy it immensely.

When the year mark on the project approaches and the house is nearly ready, Dean starts to be secretive, telling Cas not to come over, that he wants to keep a few things a surprise. Cas takes to spending more time at the local farmer’s co-op, where he’s been picking up a few regular hours of work each week, learning everything there is to know about simple and beautiful things like fertilizer and chicken care and seeds. Everyone seems to like him, and though Dean’s nervous the first few times he drops by during one of Cas’s shifts, his new coworkers welcome him as Cas’s partner with open arms.

Finally, the place is ready, according to Dean, and he and Cas pack up the last of their belongings and load them into the back of Cas’s truck. Sam and Eileen have found a place in Topeka and will be moving there in a few weeks, though Sam’s still planning on coming back to the bunker regularly to check in on the hunters who will be moving in to take over the bunker’s care; Jack’s got some grand plans to backpack the world for a couple of months, after which who knows what he’ll do?

It feels more like a beginning than an end as Cas drives the loaded-up pickup down the unnamed dirt road that leads to their new house. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, Dean peers at him sideways, nervous, and Cas squeezes his hand.

“As long as you didn’t paint a mural of Steven Tyler on our bedroom ceiling, I’ll love it,” he promises Dean before they get out of the car and approach the house.

It’s a craftsman with a wide front porch and is painted a soft yellow. There are two rocking chairs on the porch which they’d found at a flea market in Kansas City. Dean’s painted them up and applied some wood glue in key places to make them sturdier, and he made a little table to go between them, which he says is key — it’s where they’ll put their beer when they sit out here at night.

Inside, it’s warm, as Dean came by earlier that morning to load up the wood-burning furnace in the living room. The downstairs is made up of three large rooms: a living room with a worn, comfortable couch, a big mounted TV, and the two plaid armchairs from the ‘Dean Cave’; a dining room with a long wooden table and plenty of chairs; and a kitchen filled with natural light and a solid butcher’s block counter. Most of the elements that furnish the home were found at flea markets or thrift stores, all of them used and coming with a story, such as the couch, which had been loaded very precariously into Cas’s truck bed and most certainly would not have actually fit and remained steady for the long drive back to Lebanon without some divine intervention from Jack, who had denied his involvement.

Upstairs there are two rooms. First is the main bedroom with a walk-in closet and a large bathroom, complete with a detached tub big enough for both of them. The picture window behind their bed faces out onto the backyard and lets in plenty of natural light. Next to their room is what is technically the guest room, but is really Jack’s, for whenever he wishes to stay. Next to the bed is the IKEA bookshelf that Cas and Kelly had built in the days prior to Jack’s birth; it had been intended to hold baby books and stuffed animals, though now Jack has filled it with figurines of some of his favorite movie characters, along with books about dragons and sprawling histories of ancient civilizations.

Because Dean’s a hunter, and because they’ve lived the lives they’ve lived, the house has a few special qualities. First, there’s warding throughout the foundation and beneath the paint jobs in each room, done by Cas, checked by Sam, checked again by Eileen, and so on. There’s warding on the fence posts that ring the property, as well, newly built and sturdy. In the bedroom closet is a false door hiding the gun safe, though it holds far more weapons than just guns. Though both Dean and Cas have mostly retired from hunting since saving the world this last time, neither is naive enough to think that there may not be a time they’ll want to follow up on a strange newspaper headline or help out some fresh hunters with a difficult case. And Cas isn’t sure Dean would sleep as well without knowing the weapons are there, anyway.

Dean takes Cas’s hand now pulls him through the first level to the back door. “Don’t expect too much,” he says, and Cas wants to tell him that everything about this place already surpasses his wildest expectations, the most outlandish dreams he could have ever had.

When Dean opens the door, Cas sees that the backyard has been transformed. They had spoken briefly about putting a patio and a grill back here, but really, Dean has done far more than that. There is indeed a patio and grill, with string lights draped between poles all around it, making it perfect for entertaining whenever folks come through town and stay awhile. But beyond that, Dean’s built several long garden beds, next to which is a newly constructed chicken coop. There’s a freshly-painted shed, a wooden beehive box, and a fenced-in area with a small barn. Cas gapes at all of this, unsure what to say.

“Thought we might raise some chickens, bees, maybe some goats,” Dean says, his hands shoved into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels nervously.

This time, it’s Cas’s turn to smile, just as Dean had done when Cas gave him the land deed. “It’s perfect,” he says, taking Dean in his arms and kissing him. “Just perfect."

The guests arrive sporadically throughout the day, depending on their distance and how much they want to help Dean and Cas prepare for the party. Jody and Donna, for instance, arrive three hours before the start time, with Claire, Kaia, Patience, and Alex in tow. Dean makes fun of the minivan they all arrive in for a solid fifteen minutes. Charlie arrives an hour after that with Stevie, and Bobby and Rowena surprise each other by showing up at the same time, the former from where he’s been carving out a life in South Dakota and the latter from her throne in Hell. Garth arrives closer to on time with Bess, Gertie, Sam, and Castiel, which gives Dean something to grumble about for the twentieth time (“why wouldn’t he name him after me?”). A few other hunters join the mix, and when Cas gets a text from his new friends from the co-op that they’re on the way, he has to make an announcement to everyone to “act normal” and if they have to talk about monsters, to do it quietly.

In the entryway of the house, they’ve hung up a big poster board with progress photos tacked onto it, starting with the empty lot. 5 acres of nothing; trees dotted here and there and a little stream that ran through the northwest corner, wild grass growing untamed, the family of opossums which Dean conceded a half an acre to. There are progress photos, including one of Dean at the urgent care, grinning ear-to-ear, high on painkillers, arm in a splint after his fall from the ladder. The photo of Eileen leaning over the edge of the roof while Sam panics below gets a laugh from everyone, though Sam is less-than-amused by it.

The party is in full swing with Dean’s carefully-curated playlist cranking out through the speakers in the living room and the food dishes spread out on the table. Cas comes and finds Dean in the midst of an argument with Charlie over a video game character. He taps him on the shoulder and beckons with his finger; Dean, whipped until the very end, follows Cas upstairs obediently.

When they get to the bedroom, Cas closes the door and orders Dean to sit on the bed. Dean does so with a smirk and a “With all the guests around, you kinky bastard?”

But Cas doesn’t say anything, just lowers himself onto one knee and produces a small box from his pocket.

Dean’s struck dumb, staring at him with his mouth slightly open. “Are you…” he starts.

“Yes,” Cas says, opening the box and holding it out. The ring is silver, a thick band similar to the ring that Dean used to wear. “I think I’ve made enough… speeches for a lifetime,” he says, never eager to remember that moment of happiness he’d allowed himself before the Empty had swallowed him up. He’d assumed it was his last — and he’s been counting every happy moment since as a blessing.

“You know how I feel about you, Dean. About our life. It’s… it’s in everything around us.” He casts a glance about the room. One of his sweaters is tossed over a chair, a flannel shirt of Dean’s haphazardly laying on top of it. A book lies open on his pillow while Dean’s reading glasses — the ones he makes Cas swear to never tell anyone about — rest on the bedside table. It’s a life. A real life, a good one. Simple in all the ways they’d never thought they could have.

“I didn’t want to do this publicly,” Cas says, “but I want to use this moment, with everyone around us… all of the people we love… they’re all here, we’re here, because of you, Dean. And I’d be honored if you’d—”

Dean can’t wait anymore, and he’s on his knees too, pulling Cas in by the shoulders for a kiss. His hand tangles in Cas’s hair and he breathes into Cas’s mouth. “Yes. Fuck yes, I’ll marry you, Cas. Of course.”

“Do you think this is what your father would have pictured for you?” Cas asks that night as they sit on the porch. The party has wound down but many of the guests remain, lingering in the house or the yard. The crickets are loud tonight, scoring the evening. The living room’s warm glow is cast onto the porch, over the two of them, but the surroundings are still dark enough that the sky’s bounty is easily visible. Dean had gotten Cas a telescope for Christmas so that he could see all the cosmos, the infinite worlds that still existed, framing this one world, theirs. Cas can name most of what he sees in the sky tonight, and he cherishes the sight of it, the way infinity looks from this five acre patch of grass.

“No,” Dean says with a shake of his head. The ice in his whiskey clinks gently in his glass. “Yours?”

Cas lets out a low rumble of a laugh. “Thankfully, no.”

Some small part of him, the part that may never be able to forget the Empty and all that it had meant for so long in his life, hanging over his head for years before pulling him away from Dean, waits for himself to be swallowed up once more. But Dean reaches out a hand and finds Cas’s, and he squeezes it tight. From inside comes Jack’s voice, loudly recounting some story from his travels, and Claire’s laugh replies.

No darkness rushes forth to grab him. There is only this: a patch of grass; the bleating of goats; the clucking of chickens; and the sound of family, just inside.

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