#collab fic!!

[hwajin]

#! — ᴍᴇᴢᴢᴀɴɪɴᴇ | scb

genre: fluff, angst (tiniest bit suggestive)

pairing: knight!changbin x afab!princess!reader

wc: 9.6k

warnings/ contents: slow burny, arranged royal marriage stuff, forbidden love, friends to lovers, chracter death

note: this is my fic for @hyunverse 'war of hearts (until kingdom come)' collab!! it was SO fun to write this and especially with all the ppl participating in the collab, make sure to check all of em out!! this was my first every royal au thing to write so be kind on me 🤞🏻🫶

Ten in the morning. You had bathed, had gotten your hair prepared for the day, had been put into an outfit, too tight and insufferable. Had eaten breakfast, had conversed shortly with your parents, catching up on the latest news, boring and little informative. You had gone back to your room, had taken out a book to read which you couldn’t concentrate on. All too little happened, far too little time has passed.

Meet me after supper, by your balcony.

Changbin’s signature under the short note, and the message drove you to insanity. You hadn’t seen him in a while, his work occupying him and his time more often than it was to your liking; knights came home bruised up and injured, their horses distressed and tired. Changbin being the grand commander of his battalion never missed to take the most damage – the determination and his well-intended, devoted persona, as much as you loved him for it, always prone to trouble him.

Changbin and you had started a friendship a few years back. It was unlikely, unusual, for a princess and a knight to be as close knitted as the two of you were. Yet, when Changbin had started to work directly under your father, the king himself, and had gotten higher in his position of knight, you and him had chances upon chances to converse and mingle; be it on royal circulars or ascots, when discussing other kingdoms and the safety of your own, or inner economy and politics. It had been impossible to not acquaint the other, and your characters had seemed to connect naturally, much like two pieces of a puzzle, seamless, fitting to the other. Changbin was one you held dear to your heart, one you wouldn’t bear to lose – though your father didn’t approve of it. Had warned you countless times that your relation was of ill quality, that his direct commander was of no good influence to his child, no one you should converse with let alone call a friend – hence why tonight — much like all night, any time he wished to see you, speak to you —, Changbin offered your balcony as a place to catch up. You barely met elsewhere whenever you did, as it was by far the only place in the palace not watched by soldiers – those of who had told on you and Changbin often enough in the past for the two of you to grow cautious and careful. Seeing each other in the halls or the ballroom occasionally yet never speaking much, only conversing with eyes and sheepish smiles, reserving actual conversations when you were in lonesome. When it was the two of you only, left to talk about deeper-lying subjects than the ones you were used to with people other, than Changbin ever had the chance to. On your balcony, it was always the very pure of you both; no facets, no obligations. Him and you, in your most utter nature.

You missed your friend dearly.

Supper couldn’t have come any slower. You had been dreading the day and wishing for night, had watched the sun set behind the horizon ever so slowly, taking its sweet time – at least your balcony had always had the prettiest view. The book you had been hoping to finish today was lain forgotten on your vanity, about half read. Your mind had been elsewhere the entire evening, maids having to repeat questions second times to ask of your opinion on hair or attire choices, and you’d apologised each and every time. Your mind's been always in a frenzy when Changbin returned from the battlefield. The utter worry you bore for him, the one you’d call your best of friends, was more than you could manage with a clear mind, the notice of his duties calling always prone to set your heart to uneasy condition, only tranquillising when you saw the man in flesh and bones and with lack of harsh bruises, preferably. Though that was seldom the case.

“Might anything be bothering you, child?”

Your fathers stern voice, and you jolted up from the confines of your thoughts. You had only been poking around in your food, appetite lost if there was any to begin with, thoughts neither in the current nor on any subject talked about, thus not participating in your parents’ conversations. You blinked some before meeting his eyes, managing a smile apologetic.

“Yes- no. Nothing bothering me, I apologize. I’m perfectly fine.”

You’d always been a bad liar. You gifted another smile, hoping the matter would be dropped. You weren’t one to be untruthful to your parents, always speaking your mind when needed, standing your ground when necessary. Though when the name Seo Changbin fell, polite talking always turned into agitated speech and angry voices, and you were all but in the mood for such; so you kept the reason for your state a secret.

“I have just been feeling quite faint since morning, perhaps it’s the weather.”

Going back to your merely untouched food, the additional information surely leaving them convinced. It wasn’t a lie, either, much to your dismay; you had been feeling rather ill, with worry and anticipation for your friend, though neither King nor Queen would have to know of it.

“Oh dear, then maybe you shall be able to rest upstairs, no? Leave the plate full, honey, hurry to bed.”

Your mother had always been the softer of the two. You had grown old without siblings, an only child, your mother always the closest person to your heart. Which never meant you didn’t love your father dearly; yet the bond connecting you and the Queen had always been the stronger one.

Your eyes found hers, despite not having expected her offer you took it gratefully all the same. You knew your father wasn’t fond of your leaving early; arguing that it was high time to start being raised a Queen, a soon to be one, and excusing yourself due to nuisances such as sheer faintness was all but justifiable. Your mother shot her husband a glare, though, comforting hand on his arm; signalling that it was well. You left with a quick bow of the head, hurrying and increasing your step only after the vast doors of the main hall had closed behind you - your father preferred you walked around the hall in acceptable tempo.

Your shoes sounded up in quick manner against the tile floors of the halls, ricocheting against the tall space. Your dress threw waves at your fastened feet, breaking in tides against your figure. It was dark, corridors lit only by occasional candle; it was enough to see staff pass by, maids and already returned soldiers, and whenever they were in proximity you decreased your step. All greeting with a nodded “Princess.”, before passing by to their own affairs, and you merely nodded back, impatient to eventually, finally reach the comfort of your room, your beloved balcony. You weren’t certain if Changbin would be awaiting you already, he was always the last to finish his business with his men, managing to rest later than he’d like himself. He was commander after all, so, prone to overworking.

You opened your dark wooden doors in haste, making room and lighting a candle before struggling with the matches, your hands shaking, your breath hiccuping. Opening the glass doors of your balcony – to see Changbin standing by the edge of it, strong, linen covered arms propped up against the stone railings, shoulders hunched over in manner relaxed, observing eyes watching the view. It had always been a favourite of him, simply laying eyes on the vast space of the palace from above, on nature all around. He said it to be calming, especially in your proximity.

“Changbin.”

The man turned at the sound of your voice, away from his dearly loved sky and to face your eyes. Only now you were granted the ability to see the light bruises painting around his eyes, red, angry scratches by his chin and jaw; though you didn’t have time to pay mind to it just yet, only registering his presence without much thinking – you needed a hug, and if it was the last thing you could wish for.

He’d always had a steady build, and falling into his arms had perpetually granted stability you sought anywhere around, in the loneliness of your occupation and the worries of your future, stability no one except him was ready to grant. It took his steady arms and pouding chest, his pumping heart which seemed to increase in tempo whenever near you, for your mind to come to ease. It needed him on your balcony for you to forget about duties and crowns. With him on your balcony you were you, in your simplest form.

It took both of you several moments to finally discharge from the hug, and only after your bodies parted you got to inspect the state of your friend. Your fingers painted over the velvet under his right eye, only imagining the sting it caused. Your thumb caressed the fresh scratch right by his chin, your brows merely scrunching at the pain that must have caused – you would take it all from him, if you could. Would bear it all with him if it was any possible, if it meant shortage of his aching. It wounded anew whenever you’d see him after returning from the battlefield – you were well aware of his own wish for this profession – wanting to fight for what’s good laid in his nature – yet your own desire to know him safe and sound stemmed from egotism you never believed dissipating. He was your closest friend at last, imagining him in anguish of any kind cut at your own heart deeper than anything other was able to.

“Do not look at me like this. I am fine.”

Changbin. Always the personified reassurance, always the calm anchor that never allowed you to seed worry for him. That would give his life to keep you safe, that would sacrifice himself if it meant knowing you in happiness. It was sheer impossible for you not to bear worry. Though you always disguised, for his sake.

“I missed you. I’m glad you’re back.”

And with that you fell into his arms once more. Changbin embraced you wholly, holding your body so tight to his it was nearly uncomfortably suffocating, though you’d never dare to mind. The man buried his face in your nape, keeping there for a moment or two before parting again. An exchanged smile before a laugh followed, a laugh filled with relief, with reassurance; not one of Changbin’s departments was ever safe, no given guarantee he’d be able to return at all. Left and forgotten for times end on the battlefield; it was always a scenario open, one that you feared during sleepless nights.

Yet he was here, returned this time, like he always did, always promised.

“So, tell me everything.”

You rumpled up your heavy dress, wishing to change out of it as the setting sun indicated you’ve been wearing cottoned corset and linen silk for far longer than your liking allowed. You settled on your designated metallic chair, Changbin took seat on the other one. You’ve taken ownership over both a few years back – the maids and cooks in the kitchen still asked about the mystery of their disappearance, and you and Changbin found amusement in it each time. You had been practically children when you had snuck into the hot chambers, hiding from guards and personnel and getting hold of two cheap looking sitting attires because sitting on the stone porch of the balcony had become unbearable over time. You had sprinted up as fast as it was possible back then, had rushed with adrenaline and laughed your hearts out at the relief of not getting caught, of succeeding with your master plan. You had set the chairs on the balcony facing the vastness of the palace, just so you could have a look onto the sunset if you wished. The chairs haven’t moved since – no guard ever checked the privacy of your own four walls let alone the tiny balcony, so you’ve been sure your dear possessions would be safe and sound there for as long as you wanted them to be.

“You wish for me to tell you everything? Princess, I’m sure you have far more precious information about the happenings within the palace than my ever boring talk about the battlefield.”

Typical of him to deny his worth, and you huffed in bitter amusement. Your heart felt warm with the name he chose to call you; princess. He had started to drop your name and call you by your rank in fun initially, though the word contained in his addressing you, never without a slight teasing behind. You liked hearing the title out of his mouth the most. For with him it didn’t come with a notion of fearful respect, but utter friendship instead.

“Oh, I have told you the battlefield isn’t boring. Brutal, yes, but I am not weak, you are well aware.”

He was aware, though it wasn’t in Changbin’s own enjoyment to tell stories of war. It was his passion and well-earned duty to fight and protect, yet he always despised the idea of talking about matters of violence outside said matter itself; because he knew you would never fully understand, would never fully support said wanting and needing to fight and protect, because it didn’t seem fit to discuss such cruciality, with you specifically. Not because he thought you weak – but because he cherished you. Adored you. Loved you. Because his emotions for you grew deeper than artificial talk about duties and doings, politics and battlefields. Because every word he’d tell would make him wish you’d say instead, drinking up your utterances like the sweetest wine, following the soundwaves of your voice as though visualising them. When with you, talk about himself grew null, the wish to emerge in conversation about you sprouted prompt and plump within his chest, like ripe fruits on greenest bushes.

“I am aware, and yet your stories are far more exciting. I wish to hear them all – any news on your father? I hope you hadn’t started a fight while I was gone, you’re still on good terms? Oh, and how is Jisung? I haven’t got the chance to talk to him yet, is he doing well?”

Question after question, simply to hear you talk. And talk you did. Talked beyond answering Changbin’s questions, talked about this and that and oh how boring it’s been without him, talked until your guts hurt from laughing and until the sun started setting behind the saffron horizon, until first nightbirds began singing their lullabies. Until you warned Changbin to make haste and leave – when the clock struck ten your maids would come up, to get you ready and washed up for bed. Both of you reluctant, both of you hesitant to let go of the evening hug you shared, arms around the other, wrapped closely to hold body against body. It was you who pulled apart with a sigh, one so heavy it cut at Changbin’s heart. How he wished he could stay on this very balcony till midnight and beyond, could lay beneath those navy duvets of your bed with you. How he wished to be closer to you eternally, physically and emotionally, however humanly and inhumanly possible. Changbin was aware he was grasping at straws – a soldier and a princess would be one kind of a marriage across the entirety of the kingdom, having never heard of such love made believe it didn’t exist. And yet Changbin climbed over the stoned railings in reluctance, said a last goodbye with saddened eyes though you had disappeared behind your curtains too early to catch it. You were blissfully unaware of Changbin’s tragic plight – the man wasn’t all too sure if it was a good rather than a bad thing. He was aware that he couldn’t give you the life you deserved, the life you wished for. That marriage to a prince was an inevitable prediction in near future, that your heart didn’t burn for him like his did. And yet his mind’s contents were images of you when he laid in his bed that night, replaying in painful reminders until he had fallen asleep, at last.

___ . ꫂ

“Seungmin? As in Kim Seungmin? – Father, you cannot be serious.”

The sweet alluring euphoria you had felt rushing through your limbs the day prior had made way for even greater disappointment the following morning; breakfast had been served at ten as per usual, your family containing three had talked newest reports, focusing on especially the freshly returned troupes. Changbin hadn’t told you yesterday – as he seldom did – that though his battalion suffered minor loss the return hadn’t succeeded in whole unison. Soldiers had let their lives on fields beyond the kingdom, would never return to families, would live on in sole memory. Your father revealed such fragile information as though it was any other occurrence, simply an additional point of his list of news, as though his heart didn’t beat faster or tore in two at the sheer cruciality of the fact – your mother barely looked pained, continuing to spoon at her soup as though lost lives were barely a vanity as any other. You wondered if their detachment sprouted from year long experience, and you wondered and feared if your own heart would ever carve itself to a shape theirs had long accustomed. Not of stone, yet used to tragedy.

It was only after a break of short nature that your father discarded his silvern spoon by his right, turning towards you, waiting until you have met his gaze. Stopped eating yourself you listened to his following words, words you wanted to rip out his throat before they had the chance to escape his mouth, before they had the power to embed themselves to reality.

“Yes, Prince Kim Seungmin. His father and I had been conversing through letters and seemed it best fitting to arrange a marriage between him and you. He is most eligible, you would make a great pair. Not mentioning the power our kingdoms will have combined – you truly have no reason to be upset.”

The words like a heavy whip against your body, the spoken death sentence seeding rotten in your brain. Marriage was inevitable in your position and occurred quickly when only set in stone – meaning if your father’s decision was ultimate, you had weeks, at best, to count before walking down the aisle, before spending a life with a man you merely known by name. Your parents had never seemed a flaw in such arrangements, never understanding your wish for love, and to marry after it. After all, their marriage had been arranged and their parents’ was – mutual liking at best was unavoidable when you only reached the point of living together, and love was a mere privilege that would simply come to those who let it.

Only you never befriended their worldview, never believed the marriages they’d speak of were ones of true admiration. Admittedly, you wouldn’t be able to know better – you were simply a reader of written romance who had never found the luck to live through such feeling yourself, only words on thick pages that showed the very marriages you so dearly wished for. As a child you had believed your parents were in love, though you had started questioning that in your adolescence. They seemed happy, surely, as far as you observed. Though you doubted love had come to them passionately or fervidly, doubted a feeling as great as no other had ever swept them off their step. And your heart mourned, pained at the possibility that you may die with your life never be turned upside down by a person loved dearly and intimately, that the only destiny, the only availability of romance was a prince you felt nothing for.

Kim Seungmin; the name fell off your father’s mouth before you had the chance to cut his word off. Kim Seungmin, the prince of the neighbouring kingdom, a man so perfect you’ve never seen one like him. He was nice, he was charming, he was stiff when in absence of a familiar face. He was your parents’ favourite, he was the man everyone would die to have – he was your future husband, it seemed, the future King to your Queenship, and you felt nothingness for him. There was neither love nor hate; solely nothing. The thought alone enrolled panic within your guts, cold sweat spreading on the cushions of your palms, the little hairs by the back of your nape standing straight in fear – you as though saw your future before you, a future you couldn’t help but dread already.  

“Father, I barely know him, you cannot think of making me marry him by the end of the season, what do you-“

A heavy hand on the vitric of the table and you stopped your enraged flow of words momentarily, respect for your father overshadowing the fire that flamed up within you.

“You will get to know him. Besides, I have mentioned that he is most eligible. He is kind and humorous, he has a brain he knows to use. He has a name and a kingdom just like you do – you do not have anything to be upset about.”

Hot anger gnawing at your insides, seethed within the pit of your gut and dared to overcook in tears any nearing second. You didn’t wish to cry before your parents, before your father. Didn’t want to explain whichever context could possibly bother you to such hopeless state, didn’t want to show weakness in a matter so foreign to them. You blinked away the water in your eyes, observing mother and father exchanging a look, if questioning or degrading you couldn’t tell. They continued with their food, unaware of your inner turmoil, or choosing to ignore it. They were aware of your differing view on marriage, on your wish to marry after love, though years had passed since you had last spoken on the matter – it never let to compromises, hence felt aimless to convince and explain. Although, you felt the need to explain right then and there, to change their minds. For it might be the only chance you’d get, for your future might write itself if you failed to speak up now. And yet you felt a fool for scrambling for right words, for your inability to convince with great arguments and remarks. Because altogether, there wasn’t anything you could say, not to them, anyways. Because the search for love was null to them though tore apart your entire being. Thoughts and feelings head over heel while your parents waited for an answer, received only a lack thereof.

Only after counted minutes your voice filled the hall of the room, when your anger and frustration subsided just enough. Your body felt yet trembling, your interior shaken to the very last bone, though you had collected enough to speak, at last.

“You- you are right, Prince Seungmin would be the most righteous match indeed, he- he has qualities one could only dream of.”

Indifference from your addressees, a calming breath from your side. You wouldn’t allow to be married away without trying to change the outcome, surely. There was fate worse than yours, you were aware, unchangeable fate that one was bound to subject to. Maybe yours was too, maybe all words had been set in stone the moment they had left mouths; and yet you weren’t one to never attempt.

“But I don’t love him. I cannot possibly marry him, because I do not love him.”

Words like a slap against your parents, surely, and a part of you doubted your fate could be exchanged. Judging by the looks on their faces, by the utter disbelief. By the flared nostrils of your father, the deep crease between your mother’s brows. The settlement was set in stone; your father hadn’t asked you about the context, he had informed you. Simply and solely, as he had informed you of the fallen soldiers. As though marriage and death weren’t events of greatest major, as though all was null.

“Sweetheart, listen.”

Your mother’s voice an attempt to comfort, though you’d bet no word she could say would be the words you needed to hear.

“Your father and I are aware that you and we have… different views when it comes to marriage.”

Sensing your prediction to embed into reality you braced yourself from her following words, hoped they wouldn’t wound you too deep at heart. You were too fragile this moment altogether, you weren’t sure how many more hits you could take.

“…but you must marry sooner or later, honey.”

Voice too sweet to your liking for the words within the sugar coat were of bitterest taste.

“You will learn to love the prince, I’m sure of it. You must simply open your heart… leave alone there isn’t truly another… option… if you understand.”

Meeting her eye, questions marking your visage. You sweated, felt hot and cold simultaneously, felt each your senses magnify in overwhelming manner.

“There isn’t any other you love, child. If there was…”, a look to her husband, then back to you. It uneased you. “If there was another there might be arrangements possible to make. But the prince is the safest option and the best possible match for you, your father and I are sure of it.”

Your mother laid a hand on your father’s arm, the man merely looking at you, your mother gifting a compassionate look. You felt hard to breathe, your corset all too tight and the garments on you far too much. It was hot, the room started losing its shape. You excused yourself, arguing you’d need time to rethink the sudden information, hearing faint encouragement from your mother’s side, falling out of the velvet chair and stumbling your way gen room. Fiddling with the strings of the back of the dress, failing attempts of searching oxygen. Sobs past your throat in ugly manner, frustration and hopelessness laced within the cries.

Truth be told, if you actually loved anyone, all may be simpler. Truth be told your mother was right, and you saw your life being given away as though not your own altogether.

You needed air. You needed to breathe right the second or you dared to suffocate to death. Which wouldn’t be an alternative all too bad, given your future wasn’t yours.

Opening the heavy glass to your balcony in frantic motion – and you nearly cried out in utter fear of surprise. Changbin sitting on his assigned chair, garments lousy and head turning to catch your eye when he heard the noise from behind him. Seeing your blown out eyes and frantic look he hurried your direction, an expression of confusion and worry painting his face.

It wasn’t unusual of him to wait for you in the comfort of your balcony whenever he had the free time to do so, or the wish to talk to you. Your schedules weren’t always compatible, and you surely hadn’t the ability to reach out to him the same way it was in his own freedom. And while for most occasions you had grown used to it, today his presence, though comforting, had you jolt in your movement.

“Are you unwell? What is the matter?”

A supporting hand on your shoulder, his face to your level and searching for your eyes. You looked upset and beyond, frustrated almost if you Changbin had to tell, though he hadn’t seen you in such state nearly enough to be sure. Yet your body screamed discomfort, and he was ready to drop all if it meant to take it away.

“Help me out of this, I cannot breathe.”

A questioning look on the man, a blush then spreading over the dark of his skin when he realised what you were initiating; your back turned to face him, frenzy hands fiddling with the strings of your corset without success in opening the confines. You moved quickly, desperately, as though tormented deeply. Changbin stood a second or two before his own fingers found your back, entangling in your silk and tulle to grant you help; and utter shame and embarrassment coursed his body. It wasn’t intended intimacy, and he doubted you sensed the closeness altogether in your state of chaos. It was a cry for help from friend to friend and Changbin felt a fool to think of it as any different for your torment was surely great – and yet he was unable to overlook his lingering touch on your bare skin, the loosening ties when he successfully unknotted another part of your dress, when the heavy garment finally let go of your heated body and revealed the bit of white and lacen undergarments you hid underneath. Not only would the instance strike anyone in shock; you were unmarried and a princess, such proximity was looked down upon, said lightly. It was also Changbin’s heart that longed for his touch to stay where it laid, on the soft of your skin, even after he had discarded his eyes and turned his back to grant you privacy. It was his heart’s desire to not must and look away – the paining wish to be able to touch you without hesitation and in intimacy true, to undress you beyond the purpose of a helping hand. To account utter nearness because he’d be the man who’s promise it would be, he’d be the man to comfort and love you not behind closed doors.

Your shoes clacking against the stone porch of the balcony after a minute or two and Changbin had collected himself enough to face you anew. Your attire was casual, dress that could be a nightgown thrown over your body, and you took a seat next to Changbin, nearly as though your outburst was forgotten. Though your eyes didn't meet his, stood focused on the midday sky above — you were embarrassed or upset still for you nevee shyed away from locking gaze.

“I must apologise… I am not feeling too well.”

Your voice calm now, your face in absence of the panic it carried before. Yet Changbin’s worry didn’t dissipate, a deep frown painting his expression while he observed your figure. You looked in deep thought, gaze on the fingers in your lap now, fiddling with the silk of your dress. Lower lip between your teeth, occasional sighs of confusion, it might have been frustration also, sounding out into the midday air. Changbin gave you time, let you think of your words instead of pushing for an explanation for your distress – a habit of his you loved as with him there was absence of pressure.

It had taken moments of collecting thoughts and words before you felt you could speak up again. You had told Changbin the affairs that’d happened before you barged in on him, before fear and anxiety had started eating you alive. Your words had spilled out their confines in a manner Changbin had never seen before, you had let go of the tears you’d held back ever since your fathers words had settled in the dining room – Changbin had only ever seen you cry on one occasion prior to this, when you had gotten into a fight with your father in adolescent years and had waited for Changbin to appear on the balcony. Your emotions had overflown you that day, you had hugged and wetted Changbin’s shirt in a pond of tears, and maybe it had started back then. Maybe Changbin had loved you ever since that day, had realised it on your very balcony.

___ . ꫂ

You had felt Changbin’s warm hand on your own while you were telling him of Seungmin, of the marriage and your disagreement with it. He merely listened to your hearts’ spillings, hot tears building behind his own eyes which you failed to notice in your turmoil, yet Changbin didn’t dare fail in providing you greater comfort anyone else would be able to grant you. You had talked minutes upon minutes without a seeming rest, you had watched the sun set behind the horizon in navy colour as Changbin’s touch eased your mind. As his presence eased your panic, as his words of consolation eased your fear of future. You had locked gazes with his dark one, had seen your pain reflected within them, had sensed his wish to obtain the power in changing current circumstances for your very own satisfaction. You had sat with him in silence for uncountable hours, up until it’d been time for him to leave for you to rest at night, though reluctant from his side. You had laid on the soft cushions of your mattress, within the silk of your duvets, insomnia gnawing at you while your every thought was occupied with no other than your dearest friend. Your dearest friend who was the sole reason you had calmed after your burst of emotion, your dearest friend who would not shun revolutions if they were meant in your favour. You dearest friend who refused to leave your balcony, who insisted your every last tear dried up before he set foot towards his sleeping chambers.

You had laid on the soft cushions of your mattress, within the silk of your duvets, and had realised that this was love if you’ve ever seen it. That it’s been within your reach for as far back as you could remember, that you’d been a fool for not grasping out and taking an opportunity so grand it felt a punch to your gut. All too occupied with the very idea of love to have not realised it where it was provided, where it’s been hidden for you to find all time long; Changbin, your dearest friend. The man you were in love with.

The man who fought on battlefields for a living, the man who had neither power nor a name to him. The man who, even if you told your parents, could not be a match for you. Not an eligible one, anyways. The man who might not feel mutually towards you, all things considered. The man who – though you loved him, you were sure; it couldn’t be a feeling different – would never be any other than your dearest friend who’d wait for you on your porch, who’d gift a listening ear, who’d disappear when the sun set behind ever bright horizons.

The man who had been thinking of you during his own sleepless night after leaving you to your feelings in your room, the man who believed to have seen a change in your demeanour this very night. Who had believed to see a turn in your eyes and how they had observed him, with a new curiosity he’d never seen before. The man who might be wishfully thinking only, for you would never see him the way he saw you. The man who loved you so much it nearly pained him, the man who hated the prince of Empyrean with all his might.

___ . ꫂ

A week had passed since your father had announced the news of your expected marriage with Seungmin to the rest of the kingdom and anyone else in need of knowing, one week since you have realised your feelings for your dearest friend, the man you would never be able to call yours, not in a way you wished to – one week since you and Changbin had harvested an atmosphere which laid strange and thick above your heads, as though both of you knew of the others emotional turmoil, as though it only needed the fearless one to speak the words aloud – though both of you deeming the other to be of braver nature, and in a hurry a week had passed with few words spoken altogether.

You liked to believe that though the confession was wordless – his as much as yours – and though neither you nor Changbin dared to speak of the elephant in the room and regard to the subject of feelings and friendship your relationship per se hasn’t changed whatsoever. Liked to believe that despite your mutual wish for being more and conversing closer you yet were the same two friends that have known each other a decade, the same princess and the same knight that bore habit of meeting up in secret on a balcony sheltered from realities of cruel worlds. It was the very year long friendship, however, that didn’t allow your changed demeanour and the certain flusterness to go simply unnoticed. To be utterly aware that there was more on your minds than either of you would like to admit – it was a confession wordless, yet your bond went deeper as to not realise the two of you had changed. Behaviour and eyes surely spoke more than words could, now more than ever.

For Changbin, though aware of his feelings for you as long as he could recall, the cause in his wariness rooted in the knowledge that not in far future you’d be married and given away to another man, to a prince he himself could only ever dream to compete against. Seungmin had everything Changbin hadn’t, from a name to a kingdom to sheer power – Changbin merely triumphed with friendship and year long memories, whereas neither would bring you closer to you. Would neither be fit to be enough for you nor make the King himself approve nor make him the true rival against Seungmin he desperately died to be. It was against rules, it was against traditions, it was against own preferences – it was thoroughly hopeless, briefly put.

A week had passed since you and Changbin had been fools, cowardly to not exchange a word about the burden heavying your shoulders, wordlessly wandering to find an option in which both of you’d find happiness in – a week had passed since no ideas had come to mind, since you had seemed to have given up on love altogether. Because with every day there was less use to wish on it, every day a deeper understanding that you and Changbin might as well stay being cowards.

You were standing in the porcelain hall, uncomfortable dress hugging your body, suffocating your every breath. The room was utterly too filled, and the people were wholly too loud for your liking, talking and conversing about things you were unable to understand. You were making your way through the crowd, cautious to not appear snotty, careful to paint a smile onto your face whenever talked to. Your father had organised a ball with the neighbouring kingdom – both for you and Seungmin to befriend one another, and to send the troops farewell; other kingdoms have declared war, Empyrean and Noctifer enclosing to a unity to fight back against enemies.

Your supposed marriage had been made fully public and official not before every guest had settled in, the hall breaking into applaud and endless strings of congratulators followed the scenery. You’d been thanking everyone with smiles and nods, had talked to Seungmin for the first time since the plan had been settled – both of you flustered in a way most awkward, and quite frankly – you needed to leave the gathering. Needed to run until your feet gave out and your knees grew weak, until the tight corset around your bust finally suffocated you to faintness, needed to let the waters that collected themselves behind your lids gush free. It felt as though all and each townsperson and servant and maid and knight had finalised your very own future all in absence of your saying in it, people congratulating turning blind eyes to your wellbeing. In truth, it wasn’t solely your life on the line to be changed unasked – you haven’t had the bravery to ask the prince himself of his thoughts on the arrangement, for all you knew he could feel the very same about the deal as you did.

And then there was Changbin. Tidy black hair gliding between crowds, bell like laugh sounding out against the rest of voices. He was making his way through the place with his head held high, accepting kindest regards and farewells, wishes for success and victory like the high gentleman he was – you held him in your eyesight as often as you possibly could, only stable anchor against the mere crowd of strangers in the ballroom. His dark eyes met yours occasionally, whenever his own gaze danced across the room and over the heads of people only to find yours in the midst of it – the confession yet unspoken though your eyes told more than thousand words. Whenever your gazes met, you’d read his very own urge, to take your hand and escape from arrangements, citizens, princes and obligations. That his bitter glances towards Seungmin weren’t without meaning, that his eagerness for fight and protecting was milder than usual, that a hesitation marked him when the upcoming battle was mentioned by passing guests and former knights. That he wished to stay to win over your heart by spilling the feelings he had been surpassing for years on end only to avoid possible discomfort.

The confession was yet unspoken though you were convinced that Changbin loved you as much as you uncovered to love him, the man sure of your very own feelings as well – your change in demeanour, your longing gazes and lingering touches whenever on the balcony or in this very hall too telling to be ignored. It was undeniable, it was impossible.

You opened the door to your balcony in a manner shaken, hands moving fast to loosen the corset and allow for some air. The gathering had ended with a last speech of your father, thanking everyone dearly for their arrival, repeating previous news, wishing the troops the very best for the next days coming and speaking out his happiness and congratulations regarding your and Seungmin’s soon to be wedding. You had been drowning at that point, feeling as though water held your lungs captive and forbidding you to breathe – and then you’d seen Changbin, standing to look directly at you, from across the room. He had sensed your discomfort and had tried to flash you smiles and glances across the hall, had smirked and flared his eyes at you – it had given a reason for your father to scold him, it had given you a reason to flare him a warning gaze, had given your heart a reason to pain more than it was; your fate wasn’t written in the stars as it was, Changbin truly didn’t need to push it any further. In Changbin’s eyes he’d have done anything to paint a smile onto your features. Your brows had been furrowed, your eyes wet beneath layers of upheld strength – sillying across the room seemed like the least thing to do to brighten sunken mood.

You heard shuffling from beneath the stone porch, eyed down to find Changbin climbing up the firm vines that raked themselves up the entirety of your side of the palace. Heaving one leg over the railing for his body to follow suit, until he stood before you in all height. Changbin had asked to see you before he'd leave for uncountable months, and you had nodded in secretive manner when he had passed you whispering out his wish – not only did you carry a tradition to meet before every of his leavings, you both had a feeling that unspoken words between the two of you needed to be addressed, after all. If not for the sheer reason of the seriousness of the matter, then for the pact you’ve closed with Changbin, at the very starts of your friendship – Changbin’s occupation was a dangerous one, and any time he left with his troops he readied himself to never return — a mindset damaged if anything, though any matters you had shied away from over the time you had him to yourself were talked about before his discharge; it was a habit of greatest importance, because none of you would ever forgive yourselves for hiding a part of your minds and thoughts to the other; especially not when the subjects were as great as marriage and feelings unspoken.

“Hello.”

His voice breathless, and it hit you like coldest tides and angriest waves — just how much you would miss him. How much you have missed him any time prior, how it had always rooted from love rather than friendship. How you’d been utterly dumb to have never realised it, how you’d been a fool to only understand your feelings now, when it was most hopeless.

“Are you wholly insane?! You should be more careful shooting me glances when my father is around, he doesn’t approve of our friendship as it is.”

You made your way into your bedroom, the chilly air outside painting bumps across your skin. You despised when the troops left during cold temperatures. It gave you another reason to worry your brains out.

“I was merely looking at you, it is not my fault the mighty King does not like me because I am friends with his dear daughter.”

Sarcasm oozed from Changbin’s words while he made his way into your room, and you turned to shoot him a fiery glance. He wasn’t entirely wrong, though you knew that he was aware you weren’t either. You made seat on the plump chair before your vanity, red and golden stitching worn out over the years and looking fairly cheap against your gown, and Changbin stood in place behind you – he didn’t find himself in your own four walls all too often, always arguing that it was a sphere of privacy he didn’t want to step on. Every time his figure found itself beyond the safety of your balcony a feeling of tension laid itself into thin air, and you couldn’t help but paint red at the very thought of it.

He stood eyeing you through your vanity mirror, reflection milky and figures trembling, and you held his gaze. A million thoughts coursing your brain at the sight of him, though you only spoke out one of them.

“Sit down. Do not simply stand there.”

Voice snarky yet Changbin didn’t follow suit – keeping his space just by the door of the balcony, because truly, the only available seat next to the one you occupied was your bed. He’d never dare. So he continued standing, eyeing you through the vanity mirror, watching your face in the milky glass, bordered, as though trapped within the wooden carvings. A gaze so intense you nearly gave out, converted your eyes just shortly before turning in your seat and catching his eyes directly instead. There could be a million thoughts coursing his very own brain, ones that would never see the light of day, ones that you needed to hall out into the space between the two of you. It surely seemed like he was thinking a million things, lips caught between teeth and fingers playing with the hem of his attire, body utterly and wholly tense.

Yet you shuddered at the way he looked at you. Despite his nervous composure, his fidgeting body his eyes were darting, secure and meaningful on your own. He looked at you in a manner so deep you barely were familiar from him – it would have been scary if you didn't know him, if the room wasn’t so incredibly dense and thick in heavy tension. Tension you only could wonder about, could merely question. His eyes pierced through your own, prone to read the words written on the bloody skin of your heart. Unspoken words you yet needed to find courage for uttering – only one sentence was strong enough to break the barrier.

“Do not look at me like this.”

A huff out the man’s nose in a failed attempt to sound amused, and his eyes lost yours for only a second. A second in which you felt your world crumble within itself, in which you felt your haven slip past your fingers – for only one second, though. In the next Changbin’s eyes found yours again, carrying same expression, staring you down. Biting his lip, brows together in a look almost pleading. And your world seemed whole again.

“However am I looking at you?”

His voice tantalising, quiet. Not whispering yet the volume surprised you, the rasp that laid beneath it sent a wave of heat through the veins in your body. The room was in absence of further noise and the soundwaves of his words coursed the air long after he’d spoken them, giving you time to properly digest and clarify them. Changbin came nearer, closed the distance between your bodies inch by inch with steps slow. One by one you felt his presence further in your proximity, arose from your seat as slowly as he walked towards you. To face him eye to eye, to do anything other than sit and stare at him – because his gaze and the expression within was knocking you off your feet and punched remaining breath out your lungs, got your head and the thoughts inside it spinning and galloping in speed you didn’t know was possible.

Until he stood before you, only inches between your bodies. Yet merely looking at you, holding your eyes hostage with his own. You didn’t dare to back away first, nor did you wish to – you had always felt butterflies in the pits of your stomach when in such proximity to him, you’ve simply been too foolish to understand their fluttering about. Been too foolish to notice the seduction his lips drew, whenever he talked and laughed and said his ever same goodbyes, too foolish to regard your jumping heart whenever his breath fanned over you during hugs and late night whispers. You felt it on your lips, hot and fast, scattered and Changbin’s eyes beamed south – to your lips possibly, or maybe he needed to convert his gaze to recollect his composure – before you held contact anew. Tension in the room thick enough to scratch with simply a nail, bodies hotter now than you’d ever felt, ever known.

And then you understood; the heat radiating in between your bodies, nervous eyes flickering between gazes and lips, hands sheeting in a layer of sweat — the very moment written in books, the one that dared to steal the protagonist’s last breath — the moment before the kiss. You’ve never stood before said moment yourself though felt it must be it, couldn’t be anything else. Changbin’s utter body shaking in its place and he seemed like waiting, not leaning it nor pursuing — he waited for you to give the go and you did with a nod. A small one, barely noticeable though you knew Changbin took said notice — couldn’t not to, given the lack of space between you, the lack of strangeness between your personas. And the nod was all the salvation you needed, waited for. Changbin’s lips met yours in the very kiss you’ve read about, clumsy though in passion and thorough adoration. Mouths shy to open yet eager and letting the other in, tongues dancing in ways you wondered was possible. Eyes shut and your hands carefully around Changbin’s middle, unsure where to hold them and suddenly shy to touch the man at all. You pulled away, in fear maybe, realisation surely — what you were doing was inherently wrong. You knew of it and it was the truth — promised already to a man and kissing another, getting lost in his touch so tantalising and desirable. What you were doing was inherently wrong, and you didn’t care for it. You looked past Changbin’s worried eyes, silent questioning on your wellbeing and hesitation and you leaned in again, closing distance for another kiss laced now with confidence. Your hands not shying away from exploring, Changbin’s own touch following a path on your every inch of skin.

The contact of lip on lip and hands on bodies so unfamiliar yet you’ve grown to realise it was all you’ve been craving for, with no other than the man in your arms. The man that would leave in a matter of hours, would be off for months on end. Would come back long after you’d married another man – yet none of crucial thoughts wanted to stick for too long. You focused on Changbin, heart and thoughts full of him and the very way he felt against you, the very way his lips moved against yours in a manner less awkward now, tongues less shy and hands more eager. You allowed yourself to sink into the feeling and float within it, feeling as sweet and thick as golden honey smeared against lips, million times more pleasant and addicting in manners dangerous.

Changbin guided you. Barely realising at first though you were moving blindly with his help, stumbling helplessly until the pair of you made place on the bed. Air tensing further as you locked eyes for hour long seconds, and you were back, lips on lips in sync and hands following the rhythm. Shy to go any further than that because surely, having reached this point already overstepped a million sins you left to worry about later – not only this, you were also unsure of what could possibly unfold if you gave into the longing your entire body ached with, the urge for something greater and bigger. To give yourself wholly to the man you loved, to have him wholly to yourself in return, to grow into unison and remain side by side for the rest of days.

Changbin’s eyes shut in pained expression, fingers digging into layers of clothing he wished would vanish beneath his hands. He wished for you, longed for you yet couldn’t have you, not like he needed. His eyes daring to draw tears while his mouth never ended to dance against yours, with forces so great it surprised you.

And then he backed away. Your hands in his hair creating messes and his own on your hips, igniting impossible fires against the layers of your attire, two pairs of pupils blown out into orbs of blackness, chests heaving, lips bitten. Your face asking a million questions Changbin seemed unable to answer, and both of you stood in your positions to catch your breaths, to regain composure.

“Y/N… I must leave.”

In your years of friendship, you have never heard such weakness in Changbin’s voice, the secure shell he’d kept surrounding him breaking bit by bit until his very heart was left for you to tend. It weakened you, it pained and wounded you like nothing had ever before, and though water collected itself behind your lids you swore to not crumble before him. To hold your head high and save your tears for after he’s left.

It was a confession wordless and yet all was clear. You nodded, watery eyes and feelings unspoken yet without need to be addressed while Changbin’s lips found themselves on yours for the very last time, and you watched him make his way down the vines along your side of the castle, his kiss goodbye lingering on your lips and his remaining warmth surrounded you to shield against the cold, long after he was gone. You had stood on your balcony for a while longer, eyes fixed on the corner Changbin had rounded before disappearing from your view. His step’d been slow, unstable. He had turned around a last time, had sent a flying kiss and a first tear had fought its way past your lids. Many’d followed and all’d been silent, water down your cheeks and dampening your dress while you made no sound at all. That night you didn’t sleep, didn’t close your eyes for a minute. Had waited helplessly for the night to end, staring holes into your ceiling, had listened to Changbin’s troops readying their horses and setting off. You had left open the balcony door, cold breeze against bare skin a reminder of what you’ve lost. Tears had been rolling past the sides of your eyes, endless silent waters you hadn’t bothered stopping. Your body’d felt strange, not your own and all too tight, as though there’d been no room catching breath despite no confines caging you in. A part of you had left that night, a part so great you feared it’s lack would numb you out for the rest of days. Would numb you out regarding royal deals, would numb you out regarding Seungmin and the marriage to him – and maybe, you thought, maybe it wasn’t all too bad, then. Maybe the numbing would keep you from hurting, from drawing blood at your heart. Maybe numbing would allow you to keep this night and Changbin in anchor memory, as a source to sanity against unfulfilling duties – maybe numbing was the only option to keep loving the dearest friend you had while promised to another.

And numbing you needed. When not weeks later you stood in a white gown, before candlelit altar and suit dressed prince next to you in position, and when you haven’t heard of the troops nor Changbin in far too long to possibly be a good sing. When a letter had appeared on your porch three weeks into marriage informing you that war was lost, that half the soldiers would not be able to return; identified corpses written out below the notice, some names you were familiar with, Changbin missing on the list of lost lives – reassuring only little, because he hadn’t yet been back home, either. No returning knight had been helpful in giving you message about his whereabouts – the battle had been too messy, Changbin long not seen by anyone. Numbing you needed when two months into pregnancy you had never heard about the man again, the man you’d called your dearest friend and most secretive love, when years into retirement and elderly forgetting his face stayed an anchor memory against the laws of nature, his darken solid eyes meeting yours in loving gazes when you only sealed them.

taglist: @writerracha @princelingperfect @ggundeuri @orithyia-eriphyle @vumiixlyy @luvrhyune @hopeladybug @misitmoonlight @baldi-2 @baddecisionsworld @thetaytayray @midsoulz @hyunverse @realbangchan @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @rachabreathing @nixtape-foryou @ameliesaysshoo @jisungsdaydreamer @https-skzology @day6andetcetera @linonyang @hgema @seoli-16 @bokk-minnie @foliea @amagumorii @nhyunn @ravyaryn @ink-spilled-stars @himarose @sherryblossom @shakalakaboomboo @r-arrh @siriusly1 @catwonwoo @suebinn @foxinnie8

[plumbum-art]

❤️ VALENTIN'S FIC UPDATE ❤️

Wanna be with you everywhere by @moonyinpisces @saglaophonos and @plumbum-art

It’s their first Valentine's Day as that sort of couple, and Aziraphale and Crowley are determined to do as humans do. Five times London finds a way to ruin their perfect night, and the one time a perfect night finds them.

CHAPTER 2 - WOULDN'T IT BE NICE

Summary: Crowley picks up Aziraphale for their human date on the human holiday, to which nothing extraordinary happens.

[kymsys]

so backstage huh 👀

Suguru himself had programmed this throbbing beat. He’d personally added the warm, wet slap delay to the handclaps. He’d played this gutter filthy bass line with his own fingers. Even the breathless gasps that punctuated the chorus were a stroke of genius on his part. If Sugar was provocative, it was precisely because Suguru had made it that way. The song was smooth, slick, sexy. Glossy like a cherry — like he’d drizzled sweet honey over the beat — but as that familiar rhythm trickled down the length of his spine then, the producer found himself wishing he wasn’t quite so good at his job. It didn’t matter how many times he’d heard the song in the studio — nothing could have prepared him for seeing Satoru perform live.

Or, Satoru shows Suguru what "beautiful" really looks like. Hope you enjoy this collab with @fushiglow on this sexy scene set after chapter 11 of Over the Threshold!

Read 'Dolce' on AO3

[bbokicidal]

Again & Again. | Hybrid!SKZ [B.C.]

╱|、 Pairing : Wolf Hybrid!Bangchan x Fem!Reader (˚ˎ 。7 Warnings : Aggressive Chan, Sexual Content (MDNI), biting, knotting, |、˜〵 choking/pinning, spit/drool, growling/snapping, borderline BDSM じしˍ,)ノ Notes : Day 3 of 4 from the BbokiDwae Collab with @dwaekkicidal!

ㅤ-`♡´- Hybrid!Chan likes to have his way - all of the time. But that's because he views himself as the Alpha in your household, so if you comply with him, it just makes everything easier. And of course, that slips over into the bedroom as well. -`♡´- Which means that he wants you to just sit still, look pretty, and let him abuse your holes until you're reduced to tears that stain the soft white sheets under your head.

-`♡´- Constant, hard, rough, bed-rocking, headboard-slamming-on-the-wall fucking ; whether that means he's got you bent over the side of the bed or he's mounting you from behind - maybe even letting you sit atop his hips while he pushes his cock up into you from below. -`♡´- He cannot do soft sex unless he absolutely has to. And there is a reason for that.

-`♡´- Primal urges are constant when it's mating season for him. He's growling under his breath at people who get too close to you, he always has to have his hands on your waist or in your back pocket, and if you're at home then he's stuck to your side like glue. -`♡´- And those primal urges also transfer into the bedroom as well. He'll snarl at you from behind when you squirm as your orgasm approaches, whispering out that you should stay still if you want it to take and that he's going to keep going until he knows you're full of his pups. -`♡´- If you're not listening and keep moving underneath him, he'll scruff you by biting at the side of your neck and sinking his teeth in just enough to hold you tight. It hurts, he knows it hurts, and he'll apologize for it later with a soft whimper in his voice - but for now he just needs your pretty body to lay still for him.

-`♡´- Speaking of urges - during mating season all they're telling him to do is breed. -`♡´- He's constantly in you - pinning you down with a hand on your neck on the sofa, bending you over in the bed, filling you to the brim against the kitchen counter; He's fucking up into you with heavy balls and a ruddy tip that is always, always leaking in desperation to be rubbing up on your gummy pink walls. -`♡´- And he's got so much cum to give. During mating season his body is constantly vibrating, jittery and aching for release. And one knot is never enough.

-`♡´- He's flooding you with cum so much so that even his knot can't contain it. He'll fuck into you, growl out as soon as his knot inflates and huff as it locks him into you - and even then he won't stop, rutting his hips desperately for more friction until he's grinding his cock deeper against your walls, kissing your cervix with a tip that spurts thick ropes of white to fill you up. -`♡´- And as soon as his knot deflates, it comes leaking out the moment he moves away. So he plugs you up again, cock still hard and eyes rolling back at the way you're so slick now. And how is he supposed to stop then, hm?

-`♡´- There is a lot of biting involved. You're constantly covered in marks of his dominance and adoration by being littered with imprints of his canines - though he knows better and will leave them in less obvious places - both from holding you down/frustration and pent up feelings and from needing to mark you up so others know that his territory includes you. -`♡´- And the man is feral. He's absolutely going to be drooling when he fucks you, tongue sliding over his lips over and over at the sight of how delicious your body looks rocking underneath his as he fucks into you for the fourth time that evening - if you ask nicely, and if you're into it, he may just spit on your pussy too. (He probably will anyway.)

-`♡´- He is determined to breed you. Even if you're on birth control or simply don't want kids (and he knows it), he'll still attempt to fill you up as much as he possibly can. Even though there's just so much cum that it all ends up leaking out in the end.

-`♡´-

"Gonna fill you up. You want that, yeah? You want me to fill you up?" He'll whine to mock your moans, brows crinkling when you choke on your sounds. "Say it." He'll growl, "Say you want it."

"Sit still. Sit still," He huffs, hand landing a harsh slap to your ass before squeezing the tender flesh in an attempt to keep you from moving. "Don't you want my pups, baby? Then quit moving."

"Oh my God, you're so fucking tight. So warm. God, don't ever wanna pull outta this pretty pussy."

"Where are you going?" He'll chuckle, grabbing onto your hips to drag you back to him when you try to crawl away for a small break between fuckings. "I'm not done with you yet."

"Fuck, might break you open. Split your pussy apart with my knot. Think you can take it? Yeah? Well you're gonna."

[appleslightning]

exposure therapy by @pl0tty

[littlewinnow]

Here’s my collab illustrations for the fab @peachydreamxx! Please check out their adorable fic here!

(It’s not hate sex if you’re secretly in love with your baby daddy! by peachydreamxx)

[industrations]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR BELOVED LEFT LAWN @imdamagecontrol <3

fic by the lovely @alarainai which you can read here

James thinks the man might be new, which would explain his attitude and lack of real grace as an attendant. James still grabs the drink with a thanks, taking a much-needed sip. “Anything else?” Regulus asks. Your number, your life story, your hand in marriage. “Nothing for now.”

or: Winning Over the Grumpy Flight Attendant: A Guide by James Fleamont Potter.

[starwolfie]

@la-sera here he is, I did it!

La-sera posted a sketch of Hyrule in chains ( that inspired me to write “Poison Dart”) and I colored it in.

So here’s our art collaboration! (Click on “more” to view picture, warning for blood)

[lyntarts]

In which Kenny’s son from the future accidentally went back in time:

Inspired by @purplepeptobismol BUNNY fanfic ‘I Will Make of You’ on ao3

He needs a time machine or else he’ll cause chaos 🫢

^^^ chapter 2 spoilers

You guys should fr check out the fic, I’m obsessed 😞😞🤚🤚

[aemondsbabe]

summary: your uncle catches you sneaking from the keep and decides you need to be punished, but finds a sweet surprise instead

pairing: daemon x niece!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, infidelity but it's not really mentioned rhaenyra just exists lol, mentions of menstruation, reader is on her period, period kink on daemon's part, blood kink, blood, spanking, mild coercion, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m), slight corruption kink, good cop/bad cop daemon

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and daemon and, being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it -- choosing our own characters & how to play the story!

🩸masterlist of everyone's fics here!

all board creds to the lovely @zaldritzosrose ♥️

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

❤️my masterlist

🦋find me on ao3!

🌟add yourself to my taglist!

“Uncle, please!” You plead again, though you know it’s useless; your voice carries in the empty corridors of the Keep, “I promise I won’t do it again! I swear it!” 

Daemon merely grunts in response, his grip on your shoulder tightening while he guides you along. You struggle to keep up with his long strides, his quick pace nearly knocking you over; your heart leaps into your throat when you’re finally tugged to a lurching stop.

“In you get,” he says gruffly, leaving you no room to argue as he ushers you into his study, “You and I have much to discuss, little niece.”

Huffing petulantly, you duck under his arm and slowly make your way into the small chamber. Truthfully, it was normally used as storage for the library but since Daemon and Rhaenyra and their sons had been back in King’s Landing, he had all but commandeered it for himself and had ordered that a writing desk be brought into the room. Glancing around at the various high bookshelves, you wince when he finally pulls the door closed. 

“Now,” he drawls, walking around to stand before you, arms crossed over his broad chest, “Do you want to explain to me exactly why I found you sneaking through the halls at this hour?” His violet eyes bore into yours, making you feel flush under his exacting stare. 

“I was merely going to the kitchens!” You murmur defensively, holding his gaze for only a second longer before glancing away, “I just… I was going to get more of the lemon cakes we had at dinner this evening! I know it’s naughty, but I –”

“No,” he cuts you off, voice low and firm as he narrows his eyes at you, no doubt seeing through your lies with ease. “You were being naughty, sweet niece, I dare say that bit is true,” he smirks, hooking a finger under your chin and forcing your eyes up toward his, “But we both know it wasn’t lemon cakes you were after.”

“I-It was!” You try once more, internally flinching at the way your voice cracks.

“This is a very fine dress for simple lemon cakes, then, isn’t it?” His brows raise knowingly while his other hand comes up to pluck at an embroidered sleeve. 

“Well… well it wouldn’t be proper to be out in my night –”

“So, it’s propriety you’re so concerned with now, is it?” He cuts you off again, smirking wildly as he’s hardly even having to work at cornering you, the sweet little thing that you are, “That’s quite funny, seeing as how it’s also very improper for a young lady, a young princess at that, to be out galavanting around King’s Landing all night…”

You balk at that, lips parting in surprise as your brows furrow. “I wasn’t!” You quickly breathe, voice sounding more like a mousey little squeak, “I would never, uncle! I merely… I o-only got dressed to go to –”

“Come now,” he says slowly, voice low but firm, “This isn’t even the same pretty dress you had on at dinner. If you’re going to lie, at least try and be good at it.”

You open your mouth instinctually, a defensive reply ready on your tongue, though you quickly think better of it and snap your lips shut once more, jaws clenched. Your eyes flit away from him and your heart hammers in your chest; you hate the way you can feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you swallow thickly, fighting against the tightness building at the back of your throat, the stinging behind your eyes. 

“Shh, there’s no need for all that,” he murmurs, swiping a thumb beneath your eye to quickly wipe away an errant tear; your breath catches in your throat at how quickly he can shift from intimidating to doting. 

“Please… please don’t tell my mother,” you whine, switching to bargaining instead, “If she finds out, I won’t be allowed out again until I’m married and Gods know when that might be…”

He chuckles at that, a playful smirk on his lips when he shakes his head. “I won’t tell on you, sweetling,” he all but croons, making you relax somewhat until you see a devious gleam in his eyes, “If you tell me what you were really up to. Because I know damn well it wasn’t lemon cakes.”

Your heart sinks again and you chew at your bottom lip for a moment, nervously wringing your hands. You cannot tell him the truth, you know that much but you hardly trust yourself to speak at all, fearing he’ll work it out of you one way or another.

Daemon’s impatient grumble makes you wince. “I was just… just going to a tavern! Honest!” You rush out, squeaking and stumbling over your words like a nervous mouse, “I merely wanted to go out on my own! Just once!”

He stays silent for a moment, eyes boring into yours and narrowing just slightly, before he sighs heavily and shakes his head. “What in the world were you thinking?” He murmurs, sounding exactly as he does when he scolds little Joffrey, “Do you have any idea what might’ve happened to you?”

“I would’ve been careful!”

“It’s not about what you would’ve done, naive little thing,” he snickers, making your cheeks flush, “Certainly you’re aware that nearly every man in that wretched city would give to –”

“I’m quite aware,” you interject, snapping in annoyance and shuddering at the thought of what he was insinuating. 

“Careful,” your uncle warned, gaze darkening and growing serious once more, “Don’t take that tone with me, I could very well march you right to your mother; you’ll be lucky to be made a septa if she catches wind of this.”

Your jaws clench and you have to fight the urge to scoff, to roll your eyes. “Well, I don’t appreciate you speaking to me like I’m some idiotic child!”

“Oh, aren’t you?” He huffs, taking a step closer to you, “Only an idiotic little fool would venture into King’s Landing in the dead of night to get up to Gods know what with Gods know who!” 

“I told you!” You bite back, trying to keep your voice steady, “We would’ve been –” 

The air feels as if it’s been sucked out of the room by the time you manage to shut yourself up, though it’s already much too late. Daemon’s head tilts to the side curiously, a sinister smirk on his lips once more, the second you squeeze your eyes shut and internally scold yourself for making such an error.

“We?” 

“Aegon,” you admit after a tense moment, knowing there’s hardly any use in drawing it out further.

“Ah, Aegon,” he drawls, chuckling to himself as he nods, “Letting big brother take you on a tour of the city then?”

“Something like that,” your voice is little more than a whisper while you nervously bite at your lip, keeping your eyes downcast.

“My, my,” you can practically feel the smugness radiating off of him as he circles you, arms behind his back, “An unplucked little flower, galavanting around the city, and with a married man, no less.”

Again, you clench your jaw as anger builds within you, grinding your teeth together while you will yourself to just stay quiet. You can’t help but remember a story Aegon had told you once, years before. At the time, you thought it was nothing more than a rumor, just old family gossip compounded by the murmurings of smallfolk. Now, though, just the mere chance that there may be even a sliver of truth to it makes your blood run hot. 

How dare he.

Daemon snickers again, the sound of it makes you clench your fists. “I do wonder what my dearest brother would think of that.”

“Yes, uncle, what would father think?” You snap before you can help yourself, lips set into a tight frown while you peer up at him.

“I said careful –”

“Because he’s heard all of that before, hasn’t he?” You try, heart skipping a beat when his eyes widen just slightly before quickly narrowing again.

“Watch yourself.”

“No!” You scoff, chest heaving with a righteous rage, “You’re no better than me, certainly no better than Aegon – doing the exact same thing to Rhaenyra! You’ve no right to lecture me in this –”

“I married her, that is the difference,” he says lowly, a harshness to his tone you’ve never heard before; he grips your shoulder with one hand, fingers digging almost painfully into your skin, “I made an honest woman of her, something your drunken cunt of a brother cannot ever do.”

“An honest woman,” you scoff, some part of your subconscious is begging you to shut up but you ignore it, “Honest enough to birth three strong boys, isn’t that right uncle?” 

That’s the final nail in your proverbial coffin – echoing Aemond’s words from earlier in the evening, though you suppose you at least had the wherewithal to not ruin dinner. 

“That’s it,” Daemon snaps, violet eyes burning with a fire that would rival that of the Dragonmont, “I really didn’t want to have to do this, princess.”

Your brows furrow for only a second and you’re silently planning an escape route as he presses against your shoulder, assuming that he’s making good on his threats to parade you before your parents. Your cheek is already pressing against the smooth, dark wooden surface of the desk before you register that he was never pushing you toward the door. 

Flustered and disoriented, alarm bells ring in your head as you squirm against the hand on your back, pinning you down. Your eyes widen when you feel him tugging your skirts up, panic flooding through you when you realize what he’s doing.

“Uncle, please!” You plead, bracing your hands against the desk as you attempt to push yourself up to no avail, “I’m sorry, truly! I didn’t mean it!”

“Enough!” Daemon barks, pulling your skirts up over your backside and letting the fabric bunch in against the small of your back, “You need to be taught some manners, little brat.” 

You hardly have time to take in another lungful of air before his hand is cracking down against your rear, making you yelp even as the pain of it is dulled by the thin fabric of your smallclothes. You fight against his hold all the while, grunting and squirming like a rabbit in a trap. 

Unfortunately, he realizes after a moment that this particular method doesn’t seem to be quite enough. A little panicked yell is wrenched from your lips when you feel his fingers hook into the waist of your smallclothes, making an icy chill run down your spine for an altogether different reason than the threat of pain.

“Uncle Daemon, wait!” You beg, shoving an arm behind your back and attempting to bat away his hand, “Y-You can’t, you mustn’t!”

“Come now,” he scoffs, easily pushing your hand away, “It’s only a backside, sweet niece, you think I haven’t seen one before?”

“It’s not tha –”

“And you seemed more than prepared to let dearest Aegon see much more than that, hm?” He drawls, going to tug at the fabric once more.

“I wasn’t!” You try again, desperate to make him understand, “W-We couldn’t have done anything, anyway!”

“Couldn’t have done…?” He questions, brows furrowing as he finally wrenches your smallclothes over the curve of your rear, tugging them unceremoniously down until they hang at your knees. It’s only then that he sees the issue, unable to keep the smirk off of his face as he hears you whine softly against the desk. 

This is what all that fuss was about? He thinks, eyes trailing over the bright red streaks, tacky on your inner thighs, until they settle on the blood soaked linens folded in the gusset of your underwear. 

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he sighs, the hand on your back rubbing up and down in a way that would be soothing in any other circumstance. “Now, what were you saying?” He asks casually, like he’s talking to you about the weather and like your arse isn’t out on display. 

“Aegon… Aegon and I couldn’t have done anything anyway,” you try again, praying he’ll take mercy on you, “Because of, well…”

“Because of what? A little blood?”

You merely nod, flushing so badly that your cheeks tingle as blood rushes to them.

“Oh, you sweet little lamb,” he coos, suddenly bringing a hand down against your rear again, smirking when you yelp at the sting, “Do you think men care about getting their swords a little bloody?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as he smacks you again, easily holding you down when you begin struggling once more. Again, his eyes trail over your slit, heart quickening in his chest while he admires the crimson against your skin. Rhaenyra has only let him have her like this a scant few times, the pains that come along with her monthly blood keeping her from arousal and though he has not given into his cravings, he would be a fool to deny them. 

His jaw clenches as he grits his teeth, spanking you yet again, alternating between cheeks, before soothing the sting with gentle caresses and smirking when you shiver at the soft touch. You remind him of her, you always have, though he’s never voiced it. All youthful vigor, filled with an untamed confidence that only naivety can bring, and with a fiery temper to match – more like your half-sister than you knew. 

Perhaps his desires could be managed in… other avenues. 

He brings his hand down once more, relishing the way you squirm and cry, your delicate skin hot beneath his palm. His member stirs, pressing angrily against the ties of his trousers, when he notices a little rivulet of red running down your inner thigh.

“You know,” he starts, petting his hand over your back while you sob, tears leaking onto his desk, “Many men quite enjoy their women this way, sweet niece.”

He smirks when he hears your breath hitch, swears he can hear your heart fluttering like the wings of a little bird in the quiet chambers. 

“Warm, open… slick,” he drawls, taking a second to squeeze at the soft skin at the back of your thigh, the very tip of his thumb just barely running through a little crimson drip. He brings his hand up, marvels at the dark droplet staining his finger for only a second, before flicking it away with his tongue. 

You gasp, having been watching curiously from the corner of your eye as an altogether different kind of heat swarms your veins. You don’t fight his hold any longer, victim to his spell even as your mind wars with itself. 

“I-It’s messy, though…” You try, your voice sounding unconvincing to your own ears; you swallow nervously when he chuckles. 

“Mm, it’s not all that different from any other honeyed hole, sweet niece,” Daemon soothes, putting your worries at ease while he trails a hand over your inner thighs, licking his lips at the way your tacky skin feels against his fingers, “It can be messy, yes, but… some men prefer mess.”

Do you? You wonder, although you already know the answer, legs spreading unconsciously at his touches. A whine slips from your lips when he moves his hand back up, rubbing it over your still sore backside. 

“Still stings?” He asks, one eyebrow raised. He tuts when you nod, soothing you gently, like the sting isn’t his fault, “Lucky for you, I know just the thing for it.”

“What…?” You question, brows furrowing as you attempt to push yourself up from the desk, only to be pushed back down against it – albeit a little gentler this time. 

“You just relax,” he croons, all traces of the anger from before gone; the fires within him extinguished at the thought of finally getting what he’s missed for so long, “Let uncle kiss it better, hm?”

A shiver goes through you at his words and your breath catches in your throat, eyes wide as you feel him move around you, slinking from his place at your side to your back. Fabric rustles behind you and just as you open your mouth to ask what’s going on, a loud gasp tears itself from your throat. 

Daemon kneels on the floor behind you, bent down on one knee, and leans in, pressing a gentle, feather light kiss against one cheek before alternating to the other. His hands grab at your hips, holding you in place, eyes trained on the side of your head drinking in the little flashes of emotion on your face – shock and uncertainty slowly giving way to a cautious curiosity. He could work with that. 

“Feeling better?” He husks, smirking against your soft skin when he sees you nod, hears the little whimper halfway trapped in your throat. He carries on, pearlescent hair tickling the backs of your thighs each time he leans in, kissing your skin. Eventually, his touches begin to linger, hands rubbing over the sides of your thighs while his tongue licks against you every so often. The soft, patient touches soothe you, tamper your worry, and soon enough pleased little sighs and hums begin filling the room, music to his ears. 

Quickly, he pulls at the ties of his trousers, groaning against the curve where your ass and thigh meet when his member springs free, bobbing against his lower belly. Wrapping a hand around himself, he continues – kissing and licking along the backs of your thighs before finally reaching what he most desires.

“U-Uncle!” You gasp, eyes squeezing shut when he licks into the crease of your thigh, the skin there no doubt smeared with the blood you can feel running down your legs every few moments, painting streaks of red down to your knees. 

Your feeble little warble is drowned out by the deep, throaty growl that leaves him – a man dying of thirst finally finding an oasis in the desert. He nudges at your thigh, panting a low, “Good girl,” when you part them more – as much as your smallclothes, still bunched around your knees, will allow. His head spins thinking of how passionate you’ll become with more experience, already so eager.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, spitting into his palm and grunting while he works a hand over his cock, panting as he admires your flowering center for a moment – your little petals shining, crimson staining your skin nearly all the way down to your knees. He feels like a man possessed, drunk and proud as his cock twitches against his palm. 

Another groan rumbles in his chest when he dives in, all thoughts of being gentle and slow thrown to the wayside as he presses his face against you, uncaring as to whether he can fill his lungs or not. 

“Daemon!” You yelp, hands scrambling over the smooth surface of the desk, mind reeling while you try to find something, anything to hold onto. His tongue is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, eons better than the way your own fingers feel pressed against your cunt in the wee hours of the morning. 

Your chest heaves when he groans against you, tongue toying with the stiff little bud at the apex of your slit for a second before he fucks it into you, all but punching whines and moans from your throat. Your cheeks flush at the sound of it, the slick, wet sounds of his tongue working against you almost painfully loud in the small study. 

His hips rut into his hand as he suckles at your pearl, burying his nose into you while deep moans resound in his chest — head clouded at the taste of you, at the slick feel of your blood against his lips, on his tongue. 

Gods, he’s missed this. 

The fire in his belly builds steadily while he takes what he needs from you, the little throbs your cunt gives around his tongue only serving to push him further and further toward the end. 

“Seven Hells, you taste divine,” he growls, rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock, his other hand tugging an arse cheek to the side, opening you more for him before skimming his fingers over your taut bud, smirking at the way your core clenches. 

“Please, please,” you pant, hips canting against the edge of the desk, breath foggy against the dark wood.

“Don’t worry, sweetling,” he murmurs, licking your taste from his lips, “I’m not done with you yet.” 

Your knees nearly buckle when he licks you again, laving his tongue over the entirety of you – lapping from your pearl almost all the way up to your other hole, the thought of such a thing stealing the air from your lungs. Your mind reels as he suckles at you, core aching from how tightly the knot in your tummy is wound. 

Daemon growls against you, the rhythm of his hand stuttering the closer he gets, stones pulling tight as he nears his end. He can tell you’re close as well from the way you press back against him, rutting on his tongue while breathy little moans tumble, unbidden, from your lips. 

The thought of your wet cunt clenching around his tongue causes his length to pulse again, causes it to leak against his fingers. Gods, he needs that. 

“Ah!” You pant when he redoubles his efforts and presses his tongue as far into you as he can, groan rumbling against you as he nuzzles into your folds, savoring the sweet coppery taste on his tongue. 

He feasts then, hand striping up and down his cock with abandon while he fucks his tongue into you, curling it and pressing it against as much of you as he can while his chin presses against your pearl, pulling loud cries from you. 

“U-Uncle, uncle, I… Gods, Daemon, I’m…” you stutter, words dying on your lips as pleasure threatens to white out your mind. You pant, breathlessly rocking against his face while your body tenses, instinctively preparing for the incoming onslaught. 

He grunts into you, fucking into his fist while his other hand squeezes at your arse. His eyes roll back in his head when he feels you tighten on his tongue, your walls finally beginning to suck at him in earnest. Just as his stones tighten to the point of no return, he smacks his hand against your rear once more, groaning victoriously as the dam finally breaks. 

“Fuck!” You shout, muscles tensing and falling limp all in the same breath as your high slams into you, rough and unforgiving — heightened by your menstrual flux. You can hear Daemon grunting and growling behind you, your cunt pulsing on his tongue. 

Below you, he feels as if he’s ascended to the clouds, stomach lurching like it does when Caraxes takes flight. He groans, long and loud, against you, into you, as his cock throbs, spend splashing down against his trousers, dripping to the floor. 

“O-Oh!” You breathe, hips twitching as he licks over you for a moment more, taking all he can. Your little tired cries make him chuckle as his touches border on overstimulation. He finally takes mercy on you and pulls away with a satisfied sigh, tucking his member back into his trousers as he stands, grunting at the soreness of his knee. 

There’s a heady fondness in his eyes as he lets them trail over you, watching as you catch your breath, limp. “Feel okay?” He asks, petting a hand down your spine before bending to press a sweet kiss against the back of your shoulder. 

You nod, your cheek slick against the desk while you finally start coming back to yourself. “Gods,” you sigh tiredly, blinking the fog from your eyes. 

Daemon chuckles at that, his normally mouthy niece reduced to little sighs. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and walks to a small mirror on the wall, well really an old, polished placard, but it’ll do. 

His eyes widen when he catches sight of himself, features distorted somewhat in the reflective golden surface, but clear enough to see the blood left on his skin. A smirk grows on his lips and he lets himself admire it for a second, mind flashing back to the aftermath of his victory against the Crabfeeder, before he begins wiping at his skin. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees you beginning to stir, arms shaking as you push yourself up from the desk. He stares at his reflection for a moment, jaw clenching as his heart pangs feebly. 

With a sigh, he walks the few steps over to you and steadies you, pressing a hand to your back. “Careful,” he warns, playful glint in his eyes while he guides you to the spare chair against the wall and coaxes you to sit, not caring if the fabric gets stained, “You’ll give me a complex.” 

Your lips quirk into a smile at that and you chuckle, eyes widening when you finally get a good look at him. “Ohh…” you balk, not expecting to see blood, your blood, trailing down his chin, painting him like a satiated lion, “I’m… I’m sorry…” You murmur, not knowing what else to say. 

“Why?” He chuckles, affectionately carding his fingers through your hair as he blindly wipes at his face a little more, “Did you not enjoy it?” 

“I did…” you admit softly, bashful before him now. Strength seems to find you again and you bend forward to pull up your smallclothes, only to stop yourself when Daemon leans down to do it himself. 

“Then there’s no reason to be sorry,” he says with a sigh, pulling your smallclothes back into place and letting you adjust them to your fancy, “Blood can be wiped away, sweetling.” 

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier too,” you murmur, wringing your hands while the two of you stand together. You watch as he busies himself with righting his clothes, making sure his trousers are tied well and smoothing out his tunic. You can’t help thinking that he looks handsome like this, finally seeing him how Rhaenyra might. 

Nervously, you pull at your skirts, smoothing them out and fidgeting with your bodice. You look up when he clears his throat, surprised to be met with a smile. 

“As I said,” he placed a hand on your shoulder, gentle this time, “Blood can be wiped away, sweet girl.”

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

check out the rest of the pieces in this collab here!

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

[art-the-f-up]

"Felonies and Other Love Languages" by @miabrown007

aka "how many stars can we incorporate into the entire vibe of this heist au fic"

[lycanr0t]

valvox making out against a wackdonalds dining area window from a scene in @ziptieparty and I's fic ✌️

(also a redraw of this!)

[itsphantasmagoria]

A gift for @mallstars ❤️ You are such a good, kind person, and I'm so happy to call you my friend 🥰

My unofficial epilogue headcanon to Follies of an Ornamental Hermit, where Harry takes Draco for a well-deserved romantic vacation 🥹

[kooktrash]

guys my age | jeon jungkook

summary: a summer spent at your friend’s place wasn’t something to be anything to look forward to. her hot, young dad would seem to change that for you when you decide a game of teasing would suffice your boredom. you got more than you bargained for when you realize he’s not a fan of games.

➣ pairings: dilf jk x female college student!y/n [she/her]

➣ genre/au: dilf au, best friends father, summer house, smut, age gap [38 & 21] pent up sexual frustration

warnings: 9.5K words. smüt. 6 9 position [ oral f & m receiving] use of protection. roūgh missionary. they go like three rounds. reader gets on top. dirty talk, use of ‘little girl, slüt, etc but lightly] y/n is a man eater lowkey. jk wants to resist but he can’t lol. y/n is rich and spoiled, Y2K style. big bOobs lol. y/n is besties with jk’s daughter. stays at summer home. y/n is a cöçk tease. always teasing him. lawyer jk, with tattoos and piercing. y/n has bellybutton piercing

song inspo: cola — lana del rey [i got a taste for men who are older] affection — abra [did you close your eyes and think about me like I think about you?] guys my age — hey violet

Illicit Desires | DILF!Jungkook collab

The blaring sun burned against your skin, your patience running thin the longer you waited outside. A key was being jammed into the doorknob with no luck to actually get it to function. You were tired, hot, and hungry—never a good mix when it came to your mood. Your feet hurt from the kitten heels you wore and the black handle of your suitcase was getting hot with the summer heat.

“Hurry up,” you whined, a manicured hand with long pink nails waving in an attempt to fan yourself. Only seconds later the click of the lock was heard and the door was opening. You and the person in front of you groaned in relief and you were trudging inside the large house you’d be spending your summer at.

“My dad’s not home so we’ve got the place to ourselves for a couple hours, what should we do?” Your friend, Jieun, asked once the two of you made it to the stairs to take your things to her room. You gave a shrug in response, “I don’t know, I’m hot, I can’t think.”

“Oh, so you think you’re hot?” She joked with you knowing that was not at all what you meant but you winked at her anyway. Your gum smacked with each chew as you looked around her bedroom that looked fit for a teen which made sense since she’s been rooming with you in the dorms for the last two years.

“I thought you didn’t like your daddy,” you were teasing but also serious when you sat on her bed, skirt shifting to show more thigh. Jieun just sighed, opening her drawers to pull out a bikini, “It’s complicated. The divorce with my mom was ugly and it was only three years ago. I was a teen so I held a lot of resentment toward him and her.”

“Wasn’t she the one who cheated?” You asked curiously as she passed you your smaller bag for you to fish out a bikini. Jieun nodded, “Yeah, I know but my dad was always busy. Always gone for work and I don’t know, 17 year old me wished he was around more so she wouldn’t feel so lonely.”

You let the subject go in order to change out of your clothes that had been way too hot for the heat and into something way too small. A hot pink bikini with small triangles covering your breasts and a small pair of bottoms with silver links to hold it together. Jieun directed you outside and she went to get drinks and snacks for you two before joining you. You managed to pull a heart shaped floaty toward you and laid inside of it with your legs hanging out the side and a cherry coke in your hand.

“Is your dad hot?” You asked looking over your sunglasses as they hung low on your nose bridge. Jieun rolled her eyes as you passed her the donut floaty.

“Don’t ask me,” Jieun said as she finally made it on, “And leave my dad alone, the old men you like are sad.”

“Whatever, I was just asking,” you laughed, “And I’ll have you know I prefer them younger.”

She just rolled her eyes moving next to you and the two of you floated in the pool for a good while before dropping yourselves into the cold water. You played only one round of mermaids until you swear you died and came back to life.

At the sliding door stood a man, a very attractive older man dressed in a forest green matching shirt and shorts that could pass as pajamas. His shirt was slightly transparent but unfortunately you couldn’t see much. He slid the glass door open coming out with a pair of black sunglasses that he pushed up to his hair. Jieun turned to look at what you’d been staring at and she waved a hand, “Hey.”

The man’s eyes swept back to you, “Hey.” Jieun swam to the edge of the pool pulling herself up with absolutely no grace and pointed to you, “This is my roommate Y/n, she’s staying with us this summer.”

“Oh really?” He asked looking to her, “I don’t remember you telling me about this.”

She just shrugged, taking her towel and stretching one out for you to grab. You dragged yourself to the edge of the pool before placing your hands on the edge and pulling yourself up in one go. You didn’t notice the way Jieun’s dad watched the water cascade down your breasts to your stomach and thighs until you dragged yourself up. You took the towel from Jieun and dried yourself off looking back to him, “Hello Mr. Jeon, I’m Y/n, Jieun’s roommate for the past two years.”

You placed your hand in his as greeting and he gave it a firm shake, “Call me Jungkook, has Jieun gotten you set up in the guest room?”

The three of you went upstairs and for some reason you felt the need to walk with a sway in your steps knowing Jieun’s dad was behind you. You also knew you shouldn’t be doing that in just a towel and very skimpy bikini but you didn’t care. You knew in the back of your mind Jieun was one of your best friends and thinking her dad is hot should be weird. You also knew you were going to do what you want anyway and if that was planning a little game for the summer you were going to do it.

In truth, you were a very spoiled person. You came from money and your dad never thought twice about doing what you wanted so obviously you would be spoiled. You didn’t care about the consequences, you just did what you wanted because it was fun. It wasn’t going to be anything serious anyway and it’s only your first day staying here and you had to entertain yourself some way if Jieun wasn’t around.

“Thank you for letting me stay Mr. Jeon, I wouldn’t have had anywhere to go for the summer,” you said once it was just you and him after getting changed. He was bringing in blankets and pillows for you. He stopped to look at you, eyes threatening to trail down your body again but he forced himself to only look at your face, “It’s no problem, did your parents not let you stay with them?”

“They’re away for the summer,” you told him leaning against the back wall as he put the bed sheets on the bed you’d be sleeping on, “They didn’t want me in that big house all by myself for three months.”

“Maybe they don’t trust you,” he said with a small smile trying to make himself feel comfortable around his daughter’s friends. It is very hard to not think about the girl in his house that was so physically attractive it had him anxious. It just wasn’t a good idea to think about a girl his daughter’s age. You had no idea he had these thoughts, all you knew was that you were in the mood to talk, “They don’t, I’m not always the best behaved.”

“In my house, I hope you’ll behave,” he let the words slip before he could stop himself. They sounded more flirty than he meant them to when in reality he just hoped for no trouble with you. You weren’t making this easy when you tilted your head to the side and batted your lashes, “Keep a close eye on me and maybe I will.”

Jungkook seemed to freeze for a moment, his hand fixing the fitted sheet and using his sudden tension to stuff the fabric into the frame. It was silent and when Jieun came up looking at you, “I ordered pizza.”

“Yum,” you smiled cheerfully, “Are you joining us, Mr. Jeon?”

You stood at the doorway facing the stairs but turning your head back to look at him. He was already walking behind you and when you got to the stairs, his hand touched your back lightly. He stared forward, looking distant as he said, “I have to keep an eye on you, don’t I?” With that he looked to you quickly before looking ahead.

The first few days you barely had a chance to see him, you mostly hung out with Jieun and went out with friends. He was up early and got home late so you didn’t see him often. Tonight though, you’ve gotten lucky. Jieun has a date tonight with her boyfriend and she’d be staying the night at his house. Now you would be home alone until Jungkook came home and sometimes it’s not till late evening.

So you spent pretty much all day, after noon, by yourself trying to quench your boredom doing anything you could. Now you’re outside again tanning by the pool, or attempting to. The sun was already setting so there wasn’t much left and yet you remained outside.

“Jungkook, man, are you even listening right now?” A voice boomed through the speaker of his cellphone. He could barely make out the person’s voice as he held his phone away in a trance. His attention was elsewhere, somewhere he shouldn’t be focusing on, but he was.

It was hard not to stare at the view just on the other side of the sliding door. This time you were in yellow. A bright pastel that had a silver heart ring holding your top together at your breasts. From here he could see the belly button ring you had and you just looked… like sin. He was too lost to notice the way you pushed your glasses down to stare back at him. It wasn’t until you gave a little wave that he snapped out of it.

“Yes, I’m listening,” he muttered back to Taehyung as he went back to the kitchen to at least pretend like he wasn’t watching you. It was wrong, you were his daughter’s age but you just looked so damn good. And you know you’re attractive, you know that just one look and someone would squirm and currently that’s him. He has no business being 38 watching a girl who is barely 21 and thinking about the way your bottoms hugged your ass that he catches himself looking at from time to time.

His hand ruffled his hair in an attempt to shake the thought of you away, “But I should go, I’ve gotta start dinner.”

“Oh, but I wanted to know how it’s been having Jieun back? Does she come home for dinner everyday?” Jimin asked, still trying to keep a conversation going but then you came in. The tiniest denim shorts on with the button and fly open showing off your stomach and a small triangle of the yellow bottoms. You seemed to forget a shirt, sauntering into the kitchen in just the tiny bikini top and shorts, a pretty smile on your face, “You’re home, I was feeling lonely.”

His phone nearly slipped out of his hand.

Snap out of it, Jungkook, he’s reacting nervously around you and he shouldn’t.

“I’m about to start dinner,” was all he said to you before continuing his conversation with Jimin, “It’s been good but she’s not home today. She’s spending her night with Yoongi.”

You sat at the island leaning against the marble counter, pressing your chest into it and his eyes flickered to the way they seemed to bulge even more than usual. Oh God.

He could see small, hard buds through the fabric, “Jimin I’ve gotta go, I’m going to start cooking.” He needs a cold shower, like now.

“Or we can order,” You said once he was off the phone, “I’m sure you’ve had a long, hard… what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Day?” the word came out in a stutter that had his neck heating up in embarrassment. Why was he getting flustered? He’s had very little interaction with a woman consistently, aside from the women at work and they were nothing like you. They wore gray pencil skirts and white button ups—not yellow bikinis where he could see your hardened nipples poking out. This doesn’t mean he hasn’t had opportunities to date in the last three years but with his divorce and busy with work all the time he didn’t go out. He was a boring man in his eyes.

You flashed him an innocent smile that he’s not sure he believed, “Then I’ll treat you to dinner tonight, a thank you for letting me stay. Should I call and order?” Unsure of what would come out if he opened his mouth, he just gave a subtle nod.

“I’m going to shower while we wait,” he cleared his throat awkwardly. You told him okay, ordered, and then showered yourself.

For dinner you had Italian and you were fully dressed now—still not enough for his prying eyes—but enough for him to focus on his food. He hates to admit that he’s way too curious tonight to ask questions, “What are your thoughts on Yoongi? Does he treat Jieun right?”

“Mhm,” you nodded with a light bite on your lip, “The sweetest, perfect for her.”

“For her? Wouldn’t everyone want a sweet guy?” He’s not sure why he asked or why he was curious to see what you’d say. All he knew was that his plate of food was no longer being eaten, and instead played with by scraping his fork against it. He avoided your eyes and you loved every second of it. He was just so cute getting nervous by a younger woman like you. It’s just too tempting to wanna make him squirm. A big, bad man like him falling underway by your teasing.

“I like them a little meaner, a little more authoritative,” you said looking up at him, “Like the ones who can put me in my place when I’m being difficult.”

“Hm,” he hummed in thought looking into your eyes, “Difficult?”

“Yes, I have a tendency to want what I want and find a way to get it,” you told him, voice more assertive, “And if I don’t get it, I become a huge brat.”

“So someone who can handle you?”

“Yes, but I’m a lot to handle, Jungkook,” you said his name laced with lust and if he said it didn’t go straight to his flaccid member, he’d be lying. He took a big drink from his glass of wine, “I’m sure someone is up for the task.”

“I hope so, I can get very impatient,” you raise your glass to your lips to drink, your eyes locked with his. With that you stood up with your plate, “Are you done?”

He gave a silent nod, not trusting himself to bite back a comment about how he has no patience for teasing. He’s not even sure those would be the exact words he’d say, or if he’d say how capable he is of putting someone in their place. You took his plate and washed them before excusing yourself to your bedroom to answer some call. He caught a small glimpse of the name already calling you and it was a man.

It’s been two weeks. Two hard weeks of forcing himself to not think about his daughter’s friend, but it’s been so damn difficult that you’re clouding his vision. All the looks you sent his way whenever you were with Jieun or the little comments you’d make that had his head spinning in guilt and lust. It’s been too long since he’s slept with a woman and anytime he sees you, he’s reminded of it. Like right now.

He was supposed to be working on a case with his partner, Namjoon, but he was distracted. They worked at the kitchen table but then you came in with a short, fitted black dress that barely covered your butt. Even Namjoon seemed to turn and stare when you opened the fridge and bent down at the waist to look inside. Jungkook’s head rested on his palm as he watched, half hoping your dress would rise just a little more but it didn’t, sadly. He was supposed to be doing all the paperwork that laid across the dinner table, not stare at you rummaging through the fridge.

You pulled out a bottle of pineapple juice, sipping from a straw as Jieun came down just a little more dressed down as she asked, “Is he almost here?”

Jungkook snapped his attention back to you in confusion. Is who almost here? “Are the two of you going out with Yoongi?”

“I am, Y/n’s meeting up with a guy, so lucky you dad, you might get the house to yourself,” Jieun said putting a hand on his shoulder waving a greeting to Namjoon, her father’s friend.

“Don’t miss us too much,” you teased, making him look back at you. “How well do you know this guy?”

“Just enough, we had a couple classes together,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders still sipping on the pineapple juice. He’s sure the taste of the fruit would remain in your body for hours.

Jieun laughed, “Y/n doesn’t need to know him well for her plans tonight.”

You sent her a wink that Jungkook caught and he’d be lying if he said a small part of him didn’t feel… jealous? Upset? Annoyed? All of the above? He doesn’t want both of you gone, he’s gotten used to a full house and he doesn’t want to feel lonely again. Jieun he can understand, she’s seeing her boyfriend but you… you’re not in a relationship. You don’t have any obligation to another man so why can’t you stay home. Despite all the women who notice him, he seems to have a love/hate relationship with the attention you gave him. Part of him wanted nothing to do with you in that sense, but the other was enough to boost his ego. Despite his age he was clearly attractive enough to gain the attention of a 21 year old used to college guys. So, no, he doesn’t want you to go out with one of those guys and remember that Jungkook was a boring lawyer and father of your friend.

“Well he’s outside,” you said looking at your phone, “I guess I’ll head out now.” Jieun joined you when Yoongi sent her the same text and you two were leaving.

“How are you living with that unaffected?” Namjoon finally said once the two of you were out the door. Jungkook shook his head, “I’m not.”

Long after Namjoon left, Jungkook found himself still awake working in his office. It had to be around midnight and he didn’t feel tired, he felt anxious. It stresses him out because why on earth does he feel anxious? He should feel relieved to have time to himself but he doesn’t. He’s currently staring at the clock every five damn minutes. Jieun won’t be coming home, he knows that, but now it looks like you aren’t either.

He shouldn’t care about his daughter’s friend but something about you just draws him in. You were like a succubus in his eyes, a beautiful girl who can draw anyone in and even he fell victim to it. It’s so wrong, you’re too young, you’re his daughter’s friend. But you’re so damn enticing, like every little thing about you. From the way you chew your gum while looking at him to the sway in your hips when you walk. The way you batted your pretty long lashes when you’d ask how his night went. You make little comments that he swears were suggestive that he knew he shouldn’t like, but he does. It makes him blush, honestly.

He knows he’s an attractive man. He’s fit, he’s got the looks, money, age. He has tattoos and piercings and he’s clean. He knows that women at the store try to flirt with him in line. The ones at work always have some favor to ask or some help they need. When he’s at the gym he feels eyes on him but none of it matters. Jungkook has thought about going on dates when he’s been asked and lately he’s been thinking about trying again but he just doesn’t know if he should.

At his age, is it even worth it anymore? His wife of eighteen years cheated on him just three years ago. He doesn’t think about her outside of when it has to do with Jieun but still. That’s the last woman he’s been with, it’s not like he’s your age.

You’re young and a very attractive person. You’ve got the smile, the confidence, the looks, the humor. Honestly, he could go on. He’s thought about it before, you have a way of drawing someone in and clearly it was true. If you’re on a date then obviously you know how to get someone interested, especially if Jieun always jokes about how you string these boys along. Actually, he’s not even sure if what you’re doing now is part of the date.

It’s too late for dinner. That could only mean one thing, you were probably at the guy’s place or maybe a hotel room. If that was the case then clearly you could only be doing one thing. That thought alone was enough to make him stiffen in his chair. He shouldn’t be thinking about all the things you were doing in your little black dress, or even with it off.

Jungkook knows what your body looks like under that dress. He knows that you have a little tattoo on your hip that was only noticeable when you wear one of your tiny bikinis. And god, he shouldn’t, but he feels so damn envious of whoever gets to see what lies under those poor excuses for bikinis. He can only imagine what man you’re with, what hands are touching down your naked body.

The look in your eyes when a certain spot was touched, maybe your back would arch and your hips would buck. Maybe you were sensitive, so damn sensitive that when Jungkook first gets his hands on you, you’ll be dripping in your panties—if you wore any.

Wait.

Fuck.

When did this become an imagination of him being the one touching your body? His jeans seemed to tighten, his member growing more erect with each passing image of you under him. Falling apart with his teasing this time, batting your eyelashes at him like an innocent, sweet girl, when you were anything but. The things he could do to you, teach your body so many different sensations that only he could bring you—

“Mr. Jeon.”

His entire body froze, even the small pulse of his hard length at the sound of your voice. Jungkook snapped his eyes to the door of his office, now more open than before with you standing there looking like a walking sin.

You just called him Mr. Jeon and it seemed to send him back to reality about the fact you were much younger than him. Not only that but a friend of his daughter’s.

“Y/n,” he cleared his throat, shifting in his chair awkwardly, “When did you get home?” Could he call it that? Call it your home when you both know it really isn’t. You giggle softly, pushing off the wall sauntering over to his desk with a little sway.

“Just now, I didn’t want to wake you,” you moved around his desk making him more anxious by the second. He was suddenly too aware of the bulge between his legs due to his perverse thoughts. His hand was suddenly on his lap trying to hide himself when you leaned against the desk, right next to him. Your hands on the wooden table supporting your weight, “But you weren’t even sleeping. Why are you up this late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Jungkook looked into your eyes when you frowned. Your face looked flush, eyes a little red and nose puffy. You had a lazy smile, “And here I thought you were waiting up for me.”

“I didn’t even know if you’d be back,” he looked away when you pushed off the desk, shifting his eyes back to his abandoned files. He kept his gaze stuck on it as you walked behind him with a hand on his shoulder, before there were two. His breath hitched as your hands touched his shoulders. You leaned against his back just briefly and he could smell the alcohol on you. It made him tense and he could feel his back muscles twitch. Your palms flattened against his shoulders before sliding them down toward his collarbone as you said, “I bet that worried you. Not knowing what I might be doing, who I might be with.”

He didn’t say anything, eyes failing to stay open when the fabric of his button up shifted against his skin with each drag of your hands across his shoulders, “What are you doing?”

You just smiled looking down at him. You couldn’t see his face but you could see the angle of his head hanging low. You could see the clenched fist around a fountain pen and an arm conveniently placed on his lap. “You just seem so stressed lately. I want to help you relax.”

“Oh,” his voice strained when you nearly closed your hands around his neck, the unbuttoned top of his shirt nearly exposing more of his chest than he wanted it to. “Y/n.”

He needs it to stop.

This needs to stop.

Now. He could feel it, he was very close to snapping. This isn’t right, not at all. But it’s not entirely wrong and it’s all just confusing him and his dick. He had to think of something else but he didn’t want to tell you to stop touching him even if he knows he should.

“How was your date?” He asked, probably one of the worst things to ask but he did so anyway. You didn’t stop your movements, unaware of the way his lips parted when your nails scraped along his chest. God, it felt so damn good to be touched. It was all he could think about and he didn’t want it to be.

“It wasn’t a date,” you told him, continuing your massage, “We went for drinks and, no, nevermind, I won’t say.” You ended with a deep sigh that had him whipping around to stare at you.

“And?” He asked, finally exposing himself to you with disheveled hair, lust blown eyes, and a wrinkled button up. “What else did you do?”

As he asked and his eyes fell upon your neck, something was building up within him. The sight of the small red mark on your neck, “Well?” His voice was deeper, more stern and definitely not happy. He was jealous and you knew it.

“So you were worried,” you giggled, “Were you thinking about it all night? What I might be doing?”

He didn’t confirm nor deny it but he did look away as if he’d been caught. He couldn’t face you but that didn’t stop you from pushing. This was like the red button.

You know you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing.

“Well…” you took a long sigh, a soft moan in thought, “After the drinks we went back to his place and well, you know how that goes.”

“Hm,” was all he said and you stopped running your hands along his shoulders. For some reason he was disappointed that you did. You just smiled, “That’s all I can say unfortunately, I missed you too much to stay the night so I got an Uber and came home.”

“Y/n,” his voice was firm but the hair on his arms rose at the raspy tone of your sleepy voice, “What are you doing?”

“Having a conversation with you,” you told him simply as you moved back against his desk, his knee so close to your leg as his chair spun out just a little. His eyes narrowed, “You know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t think I do,” even as you said that you bit your lip, “Why don’t you tell me?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, clearly stressed. He can’t just tell you. What if he’s just imagining your touches? Your innuendos? He’s much older than you and for him to be bringing this up was embarrassing enough. So instead of doing it, he just gave up.

“You should go to bed.”

“Are you going to take me?”

It went quiet and you swear his gaze darkened in an instance. You weren’t sure if he was deciphering every meaning behind your response or if he was debating actually doing it. You wanted him to. Just look at him. Whenever you even think about him, every concern for Jieun as a friend completely slips away. He’s just too damn stunning, too damn perfect. The fact that he was older just made it ten times better.

You looked at the clock behind him before saying, “I guess I’ll go, but I’ll miss talking to you.”

“Y/n,” he grabbed your hand, stopping you from walking away. You looked back at him as he stared down at where your hand was in his. No.

No. Jungkook, don’t even if you really want to at least get a kiss. No.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat preparing himself to talk, “Goodnight.”

You smiled, “Goodnight.”

You left without another word and the second the door shut behind you a breath of relief was pushed out from his stomach to his mouth. “Fuck,” he groaned looking down at his aching member.

He doesn’t think he can resist you the next time.

It happened again a couple nights later. This time around, Jungkook felt even more delusional over it. You were only looking at him but you weren’t being at all appropriate. Especially not now having dinner with Jieun and Yoongi. It was a table of four so he was close to you and God, this was getting harder by the minute—or no, he was.

Your foot was pulling at his pant leg and he had to pretend like it wasn’t affecting him. He listened to you talk to Jieun instead.

“So how was the other night with Jimin?” Yoongi asked you at the dinner table. Jungkook pretended like he wasn’t interested, too focused on his dinner plate. From the corner of his eye is where he watched you. You gave a small shrug, still running your foot past his knee until your leg was on his thigh. He places a hand over your ankle, a small squeeze to try and get you to stop instead of just pushing it away.

His hand was rough with age and work and your foot was smooth. It was big, with long fingers, even his pinky and you wondered what else he could do with them. Jungkook hand began hesitantly caressing your leg as you spoke, “Good, but I’m not going out with him tonight.”

“Someone else?” Yoongi asked as he served you all more food from the middle of the table. You smiled, “Maybe.”

Jungkook’s jaw tensed and he shook your leg off of him. He doesn’t know what you’re trying to do with him but he’s a grown man. If you want to do things with him he’s not going to wait around for you to finish up with another guy. Especially with a guy much younger than him who he knows won’t be able to please you like he could. Just from the way you’ve been acting he knows not everyone can handle you. You’re a cocktease and maybe he’s delusional but he knows you want him. So why are you going on a date with another man?

No.

Why does he care?

Why is he thinking about a girl young enough to be his own daughter? Why is he imagining what you’d look like sitting pretty on his dick. Why doesn’t he care that Jieun is sitting on the other side of him and all he wants is to slide his fingers up your leg and under your skirt. He could if he pulled your chair closer. He really could. He feels guilty but not enough to ignore this anymore, they’re only thoughts anyway. He wouldn’t actually do it… no, never.

“Do you want us to drop you off when we leave?” Jieun asked once dinner had been over. You shook your head, “No, I won’t be with him till later. What time are you getting home?”

“I’m not,” Jieun said, patting Yoongi’s stomach, “Staying at his place.”

“Alright, I’ll probably start getting ready.”

Jungkook went to his office when everyone left. He would do more work tonight, now he’s got all the time in the world apparently.

Once again he was going to be alone in the house.

Once again you were going out with another man.

Once again he finds himself thinking about it and feeling irritated.

Jungkook doesn’t know you have something up your sleeve. He doesn’t know that the whole time you were talking with Jieun all you could think about was how to get her father to fuck you how you’ve been craving all summer.

He couldn’t even concentrate on his case files, he could only think about what you were doing. He hasn’t heard the front door or the sound of your heels clacking on the stairs. You must be in your bedroom trying one one of those tiny little dresses you like to wear.

How was he to know what you were currently doing? Was it through the text he just received with your name displayed. He picked up his phone, unlocked it, and clicked on your message. It was a photo.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, hand running over his face and into his hair as he looked at it. There’s no mistaking what he’s looking at.

You were sitting on his bed wearing the skimpiest slip of black lingerie he’s ever seen. It was a dress, but it wasn’t even enough to cover the black lace panty you wore. His eyes followed the length of your legs, pressed together so elegantly as you posed in front of his large mirror, perched on the edge of his bed. One of your hands was on your lap, keeping the short dress from showing any sliver of underwear. It was your form of teasing, acting like it was innocent and playing it so poorly, but that’s what you were playing at. You knew what you were doing.

Jungkook knew you were bad news the second he saw you in the pool with his daughter. Even before he saw your body, your eyes were seductive. Your tone was always flirty, and he responded to it. God, since the beginning he would react, always giving a little answer to your flirting, always looking when you wanted him to. Even now, his fingers hovered over the keyboard finding it hard to just tell you to stop. He read over the text attached to the photo.

you: should I wear this out tn?

His breath hitched roughly, tension running through his muscles processing your text. You were apparently showing him something you planned on wearing tonight? Asking for his opinion? Sitting on his bed? There’s no way, absolutely no way you’re doing this to him right now. He dropped his phone on the desk and leaned back against his spinning chair. His hands covered his face, easing some tension away in thought. You’re driving him absolutely crazy. How does he even respond to that? He doesn’t.

You might have really done it this time, you’re not even sure what transpired you to act out this way aside from a selfish need to get what you want. This had started as just a way to not get bored during your summer stay and that was all it was supposed to be. It’s not your fault that Jieun’s dad is the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. And if things went the way you wanted them too, he would be in the same room as you very soon.

If they didn’t, then it was safe to say you would never show your face around here ever again.

There was a bigger sense of confidence that came with preparing this whole ordeal, but the wait itself broke it down. You were so close to getting up and running out the door when it opened. In walked Jungkook, looking as disheveled as possible but he tried to hold himself together. You looked up at him from your seated position as he took in the sight of you.

“Y/n,” his eyes trailed upwards from your exposed legs to your pretty face. A small choked out groan escaped his lips as he shifted his gaze to the ceiling, “What are you doing?”

“Getting ready?” You asked standing up to look at yourself in the mirror, “How do I look?”

“Y/n,” his voice was stern, turning to face you, “Don’t play with me.” You didn’t bother taking your eyes off your own reflection, capturing his glare through the mirror. “I’m not, Jungkook, I’m just asking a question.”

“Jungkook?” He asked as you finally turned to him, taking a small step closer. He’s so used to hearing you refer to him as Mr. Jeon teasingly that he forgets what it’s like for you to actually say his name. You nodded, standing in front of him, “Or Mr. Jeon?”

He looked down at you now that you were mere inches away from him and he could see the twinkle of mischief in your eyes. You don’t care who he is, you don’t care if he’s older either. He wanted to tell you this was inappropriate and to leave but he would never kick you out. He wouldn’t tell you he didn’t like it either, “Are you wearing this for a boy?”

A boy. Someone younger than him, probably one of those he’s heard you like and it’s not him. He’s a man, he can really show you what it’s like to feel pleasure. You looked down at your slip dress that had him looking down at your exposed cleavage. Without thinking you pressed a finger into his abdomen lightly, “I’d prefer it if it were for a man.”

Jungkook’s gaze didn’t falter away from yours, the sexual tension at a high as he leaned into the touch of your hand as it lowered. You were so close to him, chest nearly against chest and you were wearing so little. He licked at his dry lips, “Why’s that?”

“Guys my age don’t know how to fuck me, Mr. Jeon.”

In an instance, any thought of putting a stop to this vanished. Every reminder that you weren’t just an attractive younger woman expressing interest in him, vanished. All it took was the soft whisper of your response into his ear for his body to turn to mush. Jungkook barely shifted his head to the side when your lips met his, hungry and fast. His hand pressed into the back of your head, tangling in your hair, to keep you from moving back but you wouldn’t dare. The only moment your lips separated was during the first press of your tongues, meeting in the middle with the slide of spit.

Jungkook couldn’t get enough, the last time he had even kissed a woman, touched one in this manner, it had been a while. A long while that created such intense build-up when you came along making him break. The hand that hadn’t been laced in your hair was touching your waist gently but firm. It was soft but you could tell you wouldn’t be moving away anytime soon. It didn’t stop your fingers from trailing even lower than his abdomen, to the belt on his jeans. With one hand you began to tug on the belt loop, turning your neck as he began to leave wet, needy kisses down your jaw, your back arching from the way he had to bend over you to kiss your neck.

He released a low, breathless grunt at the rough pull of his zipper, hips moving with the force. The arm he had on your waist pressed you to his side when your hand dipped into the waistband of his briefs. His other hand left the back of your head, sliding down toward your neck, releasing a short moan, “Y/n.”

It has been too long. Too damn long since the last time a woman touched him. No, it’s been long since he let a woman touch him. Jungkook always had many opportunities to see someone but he never did it. He never seeked anyone out for sex, he just let himself take care of his own needs and feel unsatisfied. Now he’s letting someone young enough to be his daughter put their hand on his dick.

And it felt so fucking good. Jungkook stopped his attack on your neck to take a proper inhale, trying to keep himself under control as you palmed his naked member. Your fingers wrapped around his thick length giving him a soft stroke. You kissed down the expanse of his neck feeling the vibrations of his low groan. Your palm hugged the head of his cock, twisting your wrist and smearing it in his own precum. Your fingers brushed along the underside of his tip and he couldn’t wait. He wanted more.

With the hand that he had on your neck, he held you away from him. Your eyes met, both looking blown out and yet you still managed to look so seductive. His eyes shifted back down to your parted lips releasing small pants of breath. He licked his dry lips and with a raspy voice, he said, “Get on the bed.”

You looked down at his cock that still felt heavy in your grip. With your eyes locked with his, you moved to the bed sitting on the back of your legs, arms on your lap looking oh-so-obedient. His breath hitched at the sight and he was quickly undressing himself the rest of the way standing naked before you as you sat looking pretty in your little black dress. He got on his knees letting them sink to the mattress as you got up too.

A shiver ran down your spine at the feel of Jungkook’s rough fingers running across your shoulders to lower the thin straps of the dress. They trailed down your back softly, catching the ribbon that tied it together against your spine, and undid it The thin, silky fabric dropped down on the bed revealing more of yourself to him. Jungkook looked down at your chest, he was used to the size of them. All summer long you were showing off your pretty tits in tight tops and slutty bikinis, and yet the full view was so much more. Your nipples were pointed out, sensitive from being exposed and his rough, large hands cupped them. You released a quiet whine as his fingers pinched your nipples. Jungkook’s jaw was open, speechless at how soft you felt in his hands, “You’re such a pretty girl.”

You nodded, biting into your lip when he lowered his head to place a kiss on the plumpness of your breast. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders not wanting to stop when his tongue swiped at your nipple, licking it before sucking it into his mouth. Jungkook traveled his hands down to your thong, groping your ass before getting a hold on the material. With little effort on his end, he tore one side at your hips and did the same to the other until it was coming apart from your legs. Your underwear was left ruined as he held you by the waist, guiding you on top of him as he moved to lie back. You didn’t say anything, only soft moans leaving your lips at the way he moved your body around to his liking. You were both fully naked now and he guided you to turn away from him, gripping your thighs as he backed you up to his head and you got the hint.

Jungkook was being impatient, he needed to feel everything. He couldn’t wait to taste your pussy or to feel the tightness of your throat constrict around his large cock. He wanted to do it all now, not later. Later he can explore slowly, learn every way you want to be touched. Because if you think he’s going to be done with you after one round, you’re wrong. He moved his elbows under your knees making sure your thighs hugged the sides of his head and his body shivered. Just above his face was the prettiest little cunt he’s ever seen. Slick coated the outside and pooled at the center. Your clit was in view and the way you arched your back made your pussy pop out more. He swallowed dryly.

How did he manage to get this sight in front of him? He was a fool to think he could withstand your games, clearly not. But he can’t just let you toy with him, he’ll show you how to make a woman cum.

As soon as his wet tongue met your oversensitive clit, you had to cling to his thighs, nails digging into the muscle at his boldness. Your mouth parted in silent moans as his hands pinched your hips, pressing you down further against his mouth, getting the first taste of pussy he’s had in years—even before his divorce. You better believe that he was not doing this to his ex wife the months leading up to separating. Even if he was, nothing would have compared to how eager and wet you were.

“Da—Ju-Jungkook… ” You whimpered as you brought his cock toward your mouth, tongue swiping along his side in hopes of bringing pleasure to him fast. Your tongue began from the base of his cock where his neatly trimmed hair ended, licking all the way to his tip. From there you wrapped your lips around his head letting your tongue swipe along the slit that released clear dribbles of precum. As best as you could, you tried to relax your throat, guiding him down as far as you could.

The feeling of a warm and tight mouth around his dick had him moaning. His eyes rolled in pleasure as his thighs tensed, “Oh fuck, Y/n,” he groaned against your cunt, your wetness running down his chin. “Your mouth feels so good.”

Lewd sounds came from your mouth with each thrust of his cock down your throat, tongue licking as much of his length as you could. Jungkook was getting messier with the need to bring you to an orgasm with his tongue. Slick sounds formed every time he lapped his tongue between your pussy lips, nipping at your clit with each swipe. His fingers were digging small crescents into the roundness of your ass as he made you ride his face harder.

“Oh my god,” you cried out like a whiny brat as your hips twitched in pace with the cool in your lower belly. Jungkook placed a hand behind your head not to apply pleasure but to keep you in place. “Oh my god,” you repeated and you were so damn loud, so shameless with your moans and he’s only used his mouth so far. He’s so thankful you never tried this when Jieun was home. He wouldn’t be able to keep you quiet if his dick was in your tight snatch.

Jungkook was relentless, licking at your cunt even as you released your juices all over his tongue. He ate you out through your orgasm, letting it dribble down his chin that he pressed against your clit, shaking. He was close, so fucking close but if he cums it’s going to be in your pussy. He needs it now.

You nearly fell to your side as he moved you off his lap and you collapsed onto the bed, hand feeling around against the comforter to find your little item. He was too busy fixing himself between your legs to notice you touch a small black package. You picked up the condom moving it in front of him and he took it without a word. Jungkook felt like his hands were shaking as he put it on. The anticipation of being inside you was building up and making him jittery. You were going to be so sensitive with the way he ate your pussy and he was so hard it will be very hard to be gentle. His hips dipped down as his hand lined his cock between your folds. Wetness stuck to the condom, and he began a slow grind making sure to touch your clit as he did so. His hands pressed against the bed near your ribs and looked at the sight. You brought a hand down between your legs, spreading your slick around his cock hoping to get him to just fuck you already. You didn’t want him to tease you or stretch you or gently talk you through it. You want him to stuff you full of his cock and tell you much of a bad girl you are.

You don’t know how to explain but he was such a man. Not a boy, not a college guy or late-twenties coworker. He was a man who worked out every day, trimmed his body hair, cooked meals and did yard work all while looking so unbelievably hot. He would take care of you, he has been taking care of you and you wanted him inside of you now.

With your hand already against his cock you took a hold of him as you lined him up with your entrance hearing a soft grunt leave his lips. Jungkook was going to stop you and do it himself but he found it so much hotter to feel you guide his cock into your pussy. The softest pussy he’s ever felt, hugging his dick with warmth and wetness. Sucking him in as far as you could take him and dragging along his length as he pulled back in a nervous twitch. He won’t last, he won’t last at all

“Come on Mr. Jeon, show me how a real man fu—ohh,” he sank back in, the same vacuum sealed feeling hugging his cock and he found it hard to pull back out. Jungkook was quiet, too focused in the need to just fuck that he’s not paying attention. He’s doing what feels good until you tell him to stop. His hands snuck between the mattress and your ass, finding purchase as he lied down against your body. His knees dug into the bed and the muscles in his thighs flexed with the first real hit of his hips against yours, cock digging in just a little further. Your arms and legs wrapped around him like a baby when his hands held your butt so tightly that your hips lifted off the bed. He fucked you onto his cock, back flexing with each thrust that made his spine protrude in his arched form in an animalistic way.

Jungkook was so turned on, so close to the edge that he wanted to scream. He could hold off so much longer but not right now. Not while your moans tickled his ears and your skin was hot under his mouth with each kiss he placed on your neck. You moaned loudly, “I’m so close, oh… daddy, ohh.”

“Shh,” Jungkook mumbled against your throat, “Just cum baby, be a good girl and cum for me. I want to feel your slutty pussy cum around my clock.” He was so close, he just needed the final push and he wouldn’t be so desperate to get off.

Like before, the only warning you gave to your release was the tremble in your thighs. Jungkook released a low growl that made your throat bob as you practically hugged each other with the way he still held your ass to his cock, both coming undone at once.

Jungkook was heaving for air, legs shaking as he set you back down the inch he lifted you up. Your walls still clenched and unclenched around him and he had to turn you both on your side to be more comfortable as he began to pull out.

He rolled onto his back, hand on chest as he looked up at the sky, “Fuck.”

You smiled moving to sit lips placing a kiss to the line between his feelings the way he gasped for air. You wondered if you’d have to wait for a second round another day. “You’re still hard.”

It was true, despite the puddle of thick semen on his lower stomach, he was still hard, and your hand running up his thighs wasn’t helping. Jungkook looked down at you, “Condom?”

“I’m out but I’m on the pill.”

Jungkook wanted to be more rational but he could. He still needed to feel you on his cock. “Come sit on my dick, pretty baby.”

With a flirty smile you did as told, quickly swinging your legs around his hips as you held his cock up, Jungkook had to bite his lip hard to hold back the moan he was going to let out. This time around, Jungkook didn’t hesitate to place his hands on your hips and push you down his length.

“Y/n,” he moaned as you began to ride him, grinding against his base every time you sank down on his dick. You’d raise your hips and drop them back down against his with a smack. “Fuck, tightest fucking pussy. Fuck, look at you.”

You were such a sight with your pretty face displaying pleasure, your first bouncing with how hard you rode him, belly button ring glistening every time light reflected off the jewels. Jungkook’s hand ran over it before coming up to your breasts. “All summer, teasing me with this body, leaving me to jerk off in the shower to the image of it.”

Your pussy twitched at his words, “I touch myself to the thought of you, Mr. Jeon, I’ve been dreaming of this cock in my pussy.”

Your words traveled straight to his dick, pulsing at the idea of you with your fingers in your cunt fucking yourself to him. You were riding him with such eagerness that the bed shook with each bounce of your hips and his hand couldn’t help but spank your ass urging you on. Once again he felt himself close and he wanted to warn you. He was waiting to know for sure if he was going to when everything seemed to stop except the bounce of your hips splitting your cunt open with his cock. His eyes shot to the bedside table where your phone sat facing up, Jieun’s picture on screen.

His heart stopped, trying to get you to slow down but it was too late. He was reminded of your age and relationship with his daughter. You reached for it before he could stop you and pressed it against your ear fighting his hand that reached for it, “Hello?”

“Hey ugly, is my dad home? He’s not answering his phone.” Jieun asked through the phone. You looked down at Jungkook who shook his head with pleading eyes for you to stay still but not stop. He still needed to cum.

“He probably left in his room,” you said the last words with a grind of your hips that had him biting into his knuckles to fight back a moan. You sat straighter, enjoying the stretch of his cock, “Is there something you want me to tell him before I leave?”

His eyes shifted to you now. What do you mean leaving? You sent him a smile, shaking your head to assure him you didn’t mean it and that you wanted to have fun with him all night. Jieun signed, “Just tell him that I left the keys to Benz on the mantle.”

“Mmm, okay,” you said softly as Jungkook began to respond with his hips bucking to meet yours. He couldn’t hold on anymore. “I’ve gotta go Jieun, I’m about to leave, I’ll tell him.”

You hung up with that and he took your phone dropping it on the mess of pillows on the floor before sitting up to hug your body fo his, “Such a dirty fucking girl.”

“She left the keys to the car on the mantle,” you moaned out as his face dug into your perky breasts, nuzzling into them. He growled in frustration, grinding your hips on his length, “I already know, fuck she interrupted us for that?”

“While I’ve got her best friend riding my cock like the little slut she is?” He licked your nipple and his words had you moaning, shaking in his hold. He really didn’t seem to care anymore.

He was fucking you from below, sitting you on his lap and making you bounce on his cock, “You like fucking your friend’s dad? You like older man dick?

“Yes, fuck Jungkook, only yours,” You moaned making his chest blossom with pride at your words. With your affirmation, he moved onto his knees, hands under your ass as he fucked you onto his cock.

“Gonna cum for me? Is my baby gonna cum on my cock?” He asked with a coo but with a deep tremor in his voice, “Yeah baby? Such an eager brat, look at you.”

“Mhm,” you nodded and he went faster.

When you came undone, Jungkook took you off his cock. He couldn’t be gentle with it as he came all over himself. A hand was on his dick as he eased himself through his second orgasm of the night looking over to you. You were tired after your own third orgasm and toppled onto his bed. Jungkook knew he should feel some form of guilt but he doesn’t. Instead, he runs his hand over your back to your ass as you laid on your stomach. Your perky little ass taunting him so much that he leaned down and place a kiss on it, biting lightly into the plump flesh making you shake your hips from sensitivity. He gave it a final smack.

Maybe when the sex-fueled fog leaves his mind he’ll realize the damage he’s done.

He fucked a woman much younger than him, fucked you real good.

He had let himself be seduced by a total nymph.

His daughter’s friend.

Yet all he could say as he lied down on his back to catch his own breath before a possible third round was…

“You’re such a good girl when you’re taking dick.”

He had about a month before you and Jieun left back to school and he was going to make it worth your while. You’ll never want younger men again. You’ll want his cocking fucking into you every time he visits Jieun. He’ll sneak into your dorm when she’s at work and fuck you with all the pent up desire he’ll have from not having your body in months.

And you’ll take every inch he gives you like a good girl.

REQUEST 1

::.

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a/n whewww look at that taglist 😮‍💨also this was so fun to write and just imagine dilf jk 🤩

[appleslightning]

“You got lucky,” he says, bringing Harry’s hand up to his lips and kissing it. He holds it there for a beat, then lets it go. “I’m sorry Harry, but I don’t think this was a good idea. I think maybe … I think maybe it’s time we stopped.”

a pulled down shade by fast_brother

[ghostbsuter]

Honestly, when bart came back to the past for his mission, he didn't expect to see one of his friends he left behind.

So excuse him for standing still and gaping like an idiot at the clearly looking teenager on his phone.

"Danny?!"

At the call, the stranger– his bestie— looked up.

"Bart!"

It is his friend.

The same black haired, too blue eyed teen with baby fat clinging to his cheeks, the same way his hair appears white and eyes green when unfocused and not paying attention.

Holy shit.

"How are you in the 21st century?!?!"

The boy merely blinks, looks down on his phone, and then looks up again.

"I should be asking you that! How are you here??"

"Timetravel duh! What's your excuse?!"

"I'm immortal???"

(It's similar to the spiderman meme, truly.)

(Bart is slightly glad none of his teammates or mentor or family members are here.)

—

It became somewhat of a game for them.

Everytime the speedster appeared in a different year, hell even universe for the kicks, the first thing he does is search for Danny.

(The teen is there, each time.)

And every time he succeeded, Danny helps him with the problem, or slightly nudges him to the path really.

(Each time bart worries less for the time stream and disturbances, his friend seems to be outside of it to truly bring harm.)

(And if he meets Clockwork along the way, that's a secret between them. And the part where he gets hired for the similar stuff danny gets sent to the past.)

(For them it's a casual Wednesday. So what if they just saved an entire planet? Its nothing big!)

—

Bart should have thought more over the decision to help the literal being of time itself.

Considering he is currently seated on a chair, Barry, Wally and dozen of other heroes (including his team standing behind him in an effort to show their support.) With demands of an explanation.

Damn it danny, why did you let those in the 13th century paint a portrait of them!!!

And the apparent ancient Egyptian art of them too?? In a museum??

What the hell danny!!! Way to throw him under the bus!!