#i love my men I love my men I love my men

[tonycries]

BUTTER

Synopsis. First time cúmming inside = first time losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, breéding, cúmplay, men whímpering, virgínity loss (Choso), overstím, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, GOJO’S POWERS, proposals, full nélson, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, p slápping, p talking, limitless, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Earned it.

“I-is she really tellin’ me to hah- f-fill her up inside, doll?” Toji breathes, dazed eyes locked down at your stuffed entrance. And he can barely focus his gaze - barely even try to sound like himself right now. “I-is this real?”

Ragged rasps just about half as ruined as he feels, lilting up in pitch. In strain. Sharp intakes of breath becoming so labored when his entire hulking body wracks with a heaving shiver. 

And Toji’s scrambling his thick fingers to latch roughly onto your face, your waist - anywhere and everywhere that might help him keep an ounce of his sanity.

But it was too late.

“Heh, did I hngh- fuck the rationality outta ya? You really want me t-to-” Head throwing back, he can’t even think of finishing his sentence. Of doing anything other than curling one set of fingers around your throat. Biceps flexing when he shoves you even harder onto all fours on the silken sheets, he cranes over to place a line of pretty pecks down your teary cheeks, panting, “Well…wh-whatever my girl wants- she gets, right?”

And he meant it.

Oh, he couldn’t even believe it. Toji had your pretty pussy overfilled with all of his thick, thorough inches - slamming his hips drunkenly against yours when you’d babbled to cum inside. Fuck, it’s so real.

And that’s all it takes for him to clamor up one of his staggeringly muscular thighs up onto the plushy bed. To messily slip and slide across the saturated puddle of your sweet, sweet dripping juices and press his foot down shamelessly on your head. Like he couldn’t get enough.

The new angle nestles his hefty cock disruptively, dredges of his sweltering hot precum splat! against every inch of your clingy cunt.

“Oh yeah- th-this is the stuff.” His dark, dewy eyes veer to the very back of his head, hissing when his achy cock expands open your gummy walls. Throbbing head swelling plumper to curve even deeper, “Let me- l-let me hear ya, ma-”

Your trembly fingers rake a reddened line down his calf. Gasping for air at the way the rotund end of his angry, strawberry-pink tip kisses against your g-spot so snugly. “W-wan’ it so badly- please.”

“Want what?” Toji’s teasing tone rumbles from behind, and he’s gyrating his hips ever-so-slightly slower. Making sure to draw out those wet, translucent glides down your tight channel, “Can’t- can’t hear you-”

Honestly, he had absolutely no idea whether it was because of your honeyed tone breaking out into the cutest of whimpers, or because Toji’s ears were popping. Swatting a wet smack! at your beading clit to get you to yelp, his drawling mouth moves all by itself. “Already asked- t-tell me now unless ya want me to cum outside-”

“No! No no no-” And that was all the threat it took to have you careening unsteadily onto your elbows, fully forgetting the mean restraint of Toji’s foot on top of you. “Please- need you to cum inside please-”

“Louder.”

You’re sneakily shivering your hips down every one of his rummaging inches. “Toji-”

“Ohhhh- my bad.” With a slight snicker, his tongue glissades a wet gloss down the very edges of his scar. Leaving rounded circular bruises at your bobbing throat just how harshly Toji was jostling you with the vice-like embrace, and you can only manage out a few sniffles when he drags by one strong arm to crash the recoil into his ruthless hips. Dangerously stopping you in your tracks. Humming, “Stop fuckin’ running, I w-was talkin’ to ya pretty pussy.”

Your bleary eyes snap open, “What–”

“Shhh, doll- stop whining so much–” he’s cooing in a syrupy slow cadence. “Jus’ needa- needa hear it from her.”

Slapping down his leaky cockhead along your sloppy hole every few strokes, having you drooling a glossy sheen down his thick shaft like you were painting him. So much of it that the dripping wet noises were resounding in Toji’s ears, dancing around his melty mind like his new favorite song. 

Oh, he loved to hear it. Over and over and-

“S-so soaked.” he’s groaning out like a mantra, darkened eyes grifting together. Mouth can all but lift his drunken maw slack open at every tightening clamp of your syrupy pussy, “You want me to cum inside this badly, doll?” 

And you feel your puffed-up pussy lips get even more soaked at the utter pussydrunk look on Toji’s usually smug-features. “Because I’ve been thinking about this e-ever since the day I met ya-” He’s craning over - hunching, more like.  Baring you with his most crazed gaze, “To breed ya- to fill you up ‘ntil you think you’re gonna hah burst. To make ya a pretty momma so-” Back muscles flexing, abs aching with fatigue, lips dragging a sopping wet kiss. “-please let me cum inside.”

Ah, who was Toji Fushiguro against you?

Because as soon as your head even dares to move within the inch of that half-delirious nod you send his way, Toji’s sopping your insides sloshing wet with his cum. For the first time. In awe. Load after load being fucked up into you - white flashes behind your eyes when you feel it knock against your womb, trickling down over your cervix.

And there’s so much of it.

“Gonna have yer g-gorgeous eyes-” he slurs, crushing you with his full body weight. “-n’ your smile fuck- my love for ya-” It won’t’ stop - Toji can’t stop, can’t reel back the weepy curving divot of his head. “M’thinking four- no- five.” Still oozing out a milky gloss even when he’s dragging his fat cock out of your hole. 

Still cumming. Smearing every nook and cranny of the sheet below white as he flips you around and plants a sudden smack! on your overspilling pussy, gushing out obscenely when Toji’s urgently bringing his face down, down, down.

“Oh. Fuckin’ delicious.” His eyes droop half-lidded at the heavenly sight - shit, he could get used to this. Mouth watering, his feverish breath wafts all over your sensitive pussy. “I earned this, didn’t I, ma?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Happy wife, happy life

“Ken-”

“...”

“Ken.”

But oh, Nanami Kento can’t even hear his pretty wife right about now. Can’t do anything but shove his greedy tongue down the ends of your sopping wet slit, pooling your syrupy juices all the way down to his throat.

In fact, the only response you’re being gifted with is a furious pull on his dangling work tie - barely even bothering to change out of it - to be able to swipe his nose down more freely in a long kiss down your puffy clit. More, more, more-

Keening, your fingers tangle into Nanami’s blond strands - tugging, dragging, but shit, he couldn’t - wont. It hurt for him to even think of pulling away. Roughened palms scissor past your folds, and he pants, “P-please- fuck- just a bit- more-”

He was addicted. Gone. 

“B-but Ken-” Couldn’t register anything past the way your voice was dipping into a whiny territory right now that made him twitch dangerously. That is, until- “Wan’ to cum w-with you- to have you ah- cum inside-”

Oh.

If you thought that Nanami was drunk on you before then you were completely unprepared for the way that singular babbling plea make him still. 

It makes him gasp, honeyed eyes widening, feverish breaths spilling out in heaving puffs of condensation - once, twice. Before your back is suddenly slamming down on the counter, legs splayed out shamefully by Nanami’s sturdy forearms, and your cunt-

Fuck, in a few split-seconds, you were being stuffed so thoroughly open. Nanami’s reddish cockhead springing down to gift a wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit, he’s swiping down the ends of your drooling lips. 

“I-inside?” he breathes, a few octaves higher than usual.

You’re nodding, your fingers twirling around his haphazard tie. “Inside.”

“Anything…” Nanami breathes, and he sounds like he doesn’t even know that he’s saying the words. Barely ripping his gaze from you to scramble for your left hand - before placing a sweet, sweet peck on that cool wedding band on your ring finger. “Anything f-for you, my love.”

You’re almost crying at that ruthless stretch of his globular tip poking at your insides, he’s caving in a way open - and even after so many years, you’ve never gotten used to how staggeringly big Nanami’s girth was. How his curved divot was steaming out a thick wad of precum that already made you feel so full.

Now, you two had discussed kids - but never acted upon it like this. This needy. This frenzied-

“Wh-whatever you want, y’know-” He’s humming depravedly into your mouth like a mantra,  thumbing past your pouty lips to spit into your mouth. And that very sight of those translucent splatters makes his hips stutter mindlessly, “Anything for you- anything for the future momma of my kids-”

Shit, you throw your head back as soon as he’s grazing two digits down the very hood of your neglected clit - only for Nanami to jostle your head over his hands.

“C-careful-” he murmurs, hand dipping down to massage your neck. Your shoulders - all while his fat cock was rummaging every nook and cranny of your insides. “-don’t wan’ you to hurt your- hah-self, darling. S’not good f-for the-”

Baby.

Nanami doesn’t think he can even bear to say that simple word right about now. 

Risking losing whatever’s left of his sanity, he’s wrapping one beefy arm around your middle to crush your body to his. And before you know it, you’re being hastily jostled off of the counter and dangled midair - all while your gentle husband barely even breaks a sweat. Utilizing the lewd properties of gravity to let you bounce down onto his long length and back upwards. His voice cracks, “-baby.”

“Ah-” your trembly hands wrap their way around his neck, giving Nanami the perfect angle to pepper peck after sultry peck onto your bouncing tits. “D-don’t hah- drop me, Ken, m’kay?”

Drop you?

Drop you?

God, he lets out a slight chuckle at the very thought. Angling to rut his inches even deeper upwards, every tiny massage of your elastic walls around his painful cock makes Nanami nod. So fervently that stray strands stick to his prespired forehead. Such a pretty mess of your sensible husband. “Mhm- w-won’t drop you, I swear- I swear-”

Hips speeding up in such a sloppy way now, but even how you’re tightening his tie won’t make Nanami stop - slow down.

“Promise?”

Slowly, his dribbling cock gushes out even in even more velvety ribbons, you’re watching in such delirious awe at the way those delicate strings of slick and spit stretch all down his pinkish shaft. 

“Promise-” he groans, feeling light-headed. Heavy balls thwacking in a sticky staccato against your ass. Fingers gliding up, up, up to where he was nudging your sensitive g-spot, bruising out his circumference on all your sensitive areas. Kiss after French kiss into your gooey heaven. He presses down. “-gonna f-fill you up right here- won’t miss. Swear I won’t m-miss-”

And he doesn’t.

God, he grows sullenly quiet to hear all those delicious squelches the very moment Nanami’s steaming hot cum is spilling into you. Warming you from the very insides- and your own orgasm has you seeing stars. 

Sloshing around in his favorite little swivels, he can’t help but let his hips gyrate slowly to feel it coat a creamy gloss down his sensitive cock. To feel your tiny whimpers and whines when his seed dredges down your womb. Drip! drip! dripping onto the kitchen tile in an echoing splatter from your slobbery slit. 

You leave a wet peck at the ends of his curled lips, “W-wan’ keep it all inside, Ken- all of it-”

God, you were going to be the death of him.

“M’gonna marry you all over again- s-swear and- and…” And just then, he shudders so violently that you fear for a split-second, legs around his toned waist tightening. “-o-oh, my love- m’gonna cum again.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “U-use me.”

“I-I’m so close-”  Geto finds it in himself to grit his teeth, to force his jittery fingers up to pinch your plump clit. “-gonna cum- fuck, s-stop riding me, honey- unless ya want me to fill you up heh-”

It’s said so low and sultry and even through your hazy mind, you know that it’s a simple tease coming from your boyfriend. You know that he didn’t mean anything by it - but that certainly doesn’t stop the way that your hands grasp around his shoulders, knocking your heads into a messy French kiss. “But, I want you to, Sugu.”

Oh. 

Geto Suguru can’t hide the way his chest heaves with a choked-up moan, how his head throws to the very back of his silken pillowcases when his hips rut upwards into you like a fucking animal.

It’s like he was out of control. Ears ringing with the words, it takes the cult leader below you every shred of will in his entire body to groan out, “D-don’t joke like that- fuck- gonna give me a heart attack, y’know-”

“M’not joking.”

Shit, his eyes widen. Straying down to where your puffy pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, swallowing up every greedy inch that you were being drilled with. Throat dry, every sound that comes out of him now is painfully raspy, “Y-you fuckin’ mean it? Better not be fuck- talking outta this naughty-” Swat! Coming down to kiss a punishing smack against the edges of your drooling cunt. “-pussy.”

You couldn’t fake the way that makes you glissadingingly drenched even if you wanted to. Nails raking down Geto’s curvaceous pecs to steady your stuttering hips, your bounces grow frantic. 

“Please- c-cum inside-” begging. Maybe you were cockdrunk already, pouting in a way that has his hefty, cum-filled balls squeezing. “Jus’ want you all inside-”

And when Geto thinks back to this situation, he doesn’t know how he was ever supposed to stand a chance. Because with a gasping ricochet of his fat, curved cock onto your most precious g-spot, he’s surging stringy wads of seeds that trickles down your inner thigh. Cumming and cumming so hard - it’s never felt this good - that he almost forgets it’s too early.

That is, until you’re gasping a soft “Baby, did you-”

“Sh-shut up-” And you swear your big, strong boyfriend whimpers. He’s furiously blinking away those glittery globular tears at the ends of his eyes. A tiny pout smeared across his rosy pink lips when you’re being flipped.

One hand around your throat, the other plugging back creamy dredge after dredge into your drooling cunt. Almost as if it was offensive to him to catch that syrupy drizzle, he’s making such a fucking mess. 

“Such a filthy girl- n’ a filthy cunt-” He sputters out, and Geto felt like he was burning a bright red blush all down his pretty features. Matching the angry way your hips were being slammed into his, “Think you s-sooo fuckin’ fuck- fuck fuck fuck-”

And shit, he can’t even finish his sentence before those moans are petering out into speechlessness. A singular tight squeeze of your gummy walls encircles his hot girth. And it’s enough to make him whine, “Please- fuck, how are you doing this-”

Sounding so genuinely in disbelief, you watch as Geto’s mouth drops lewdly at the way every pearlescent bead of his cum was directed towards your cunt. Seeping out through the edges of your sopping lips.

You’re giggling in a drunken way that makes him flinch, “S-something wrong, Sugu?”

“Don’t-” he bares you with a feral grin. Heavy limbs throwing apart your limp legs to jostle his hips into you even harder, and it’s like Geto was spearheading into your lungs. Swiping up translucent wet splatters of his fat head in delicious drags down your spongy cervix. Hissing that even the slightest bit of recoil had him parting from the melty depths of your pussy. “-don’t call m that ‘nless you want me to- oh-” His dewy eyes roll to the back of his head, leaving another unapologetic smack! on your peaked clit. “-t-too late. M’gonna cum- fuck fuck fuck- n’ s’all your fault-”

“Awww–” Teasingly, your fingers drag through his long curtain of hair, scratching lightly at Geto’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. “-how can I hah- make it up to you, Sugu?”

The only thing he wanted right now was to cum inside you again. Once more. Twice. Thrice. Again and again and-

“Use me-” Geto gasps, and he’s careening his head down for what you assumed would be one of his favorite messy kisses - only to wrap those pinkish lips around your tongue and suck. “Use me use me- ohh please, use me- honey- make me a daddy. D-don’t even care anymore-”

And when he cums, Geto’s filling your already sloshingly drenched cunt with heavy loads of his seed. Sticky and honeyed enough that it’s next to impossible for him to pull out and sheath his rock-hard dick unforgivingly into your pussy. 

One of the biggest threats to jujutsu society - whimpering when he spews out a stream of wet swears into your open-mouth, shivering at every one of your milking clamps to drag out something delicious from him. 

He’s curling his hulking body into yours, dripping fingers glistening all the way down to Geto’s wrist with just how much of his loads he’d shoveled all the way back inside your cunt. Giving your sloppy hole a languid circle around the diameter with his slender fingers, before popping them into his mouth. 

And Geto can only see stars behind his eyes, he can only moan at the taste, “I think…” Peaking out a hazy eye at your squirming figure - where the hell did you think you were going? He’s hypnotized, dragging you back into his clutches with a hand curled prettily around your throat. “-that w-we’re not done until m’cumming b-blanks, honey.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marry you…

One swipe - just one swipe of Choso’s fattened, blushing red tip down your slit is all that it takes for his stupidly pussydrunken eyes to run to the back of his head. For his drooling mouth to slack open with all the utter need of a virgin, “Please-”

You’re humming through your moans, arching your body just right for him to feed you more and more of his half-flaccid inches. “Tell me what you want, baby-”

Fuck, he’s winking open his eyes to peer down at you. Hands traveling their way to roughly jostle your pliant body into one of the meanest mating presses you’d never thought your dear inexperienced best friend possible.

“N-noo–” Choso’s whining, pressing wet pecks down your lips. “Don’t call me that, baby- or else m’gonna…”

Choso’s handsome cheeks burn a shameful red when his eyes drift down to the gooey splatters of cum smeared along your stomach from not too long ago. Just the prospect of being able to put it in too much for his fried brain to handle.

And you’re finding your fingers darting across the glossy sheen sticking to your skin, bringing those drippingly wet digits up, up, up for Choso to gladly wrap his lips around. Sucking. 

“But I want you to, Cho–” Watching as his eyes widen, mouth dropping into a soft oh! Your voice drops into such a hum that makes his swollen tip twitch startlingly. “Want you to c-cum inside m-”

Shit, he doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence - and he doesn’t want to. 

Not unless Choso wants to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of his pretty best friend that oh-so-kindly suggested taking away his virginity. Not like there’s anyone else he’d even dream of giving it to.

Thick, sculpted thigh hiking up, he’s slamming his hefty cockhead down until your swollen folds were kissing up in a sweet, sweet pucker against his thick hilt. Grinding in slow, sultry gyrations upwards like he still wanted to stuff you with more, more, more- 

“I-I can can cum inside?” Forehead beading with sweat, lower lip wobbling with the sheer effort that it took to merely hold back the way that his achingly hard cock was straining for release once more. Hissing at the almost sizzling drag of precum down your bulging g-spot. “For my first time? Inside? R-really inside?”

And despite the way that he was so patiently waiting for your answer, Choso couldn’t help the way the greedy curve of his thumb swipes down your peaked clit. Rolling in lazy circles - low, and slow to make your gummy walls clench in that particular way he’s slowly gotten addicted to. 

You’re nodding with a smug smile at how pretty he looked all fucked-out like this. Darkened eyes all droopy and half-lidded like he was blinking through syrup, muscles twitching mouth-wateringly, hair browner than usual with his sweat-dampened streaks. You can’t help but wring your fingers through his locks and tug, in a way that makes him hiss. In a way that makes him gasp. 

In a way that has him spurting out a thicker stream of precum into your gooey cunt - close. So close. “Mhm– let it a-all out inside, baby.”

Oh god, and then he does-

He does and Choso’s sure he sees the pearly gates of heaven right then and there, and he knows you’re his very own angel.

“Move your pretty fingers, baby– I wan’ you to t-take it all-” It’s not even mean the way he swats away one of your hands subconsciously cupping your split pussy - it’s just desperate. So that he can place pound after filthy pound to fuck you into the soaked sheets. 

Whining out, “Yeah please- fuck-”  Snapping his flexible body down until you were folded helplessly in half, every languid second is spent with such velvety ropes of cum being stuffed down to the bottom of your pussy. “Wan’ this forever- forever please-” Thick, stringy wads that stick and slide down your walls - that overspills when it’s too much for your snug channel to take. “W-want this…”

And just one look of his greedy gazy downwards And Choso’s gasping like he couldn’t even believe he could cum this much - couldn’t even believe he could stop at this point.

“Marry me-” he’s sputtering, eyes clearer with the sudden idea. As if he’s imagining it already. Hips shifting to lazy down his sloppy staccato into something more thorough. “B-be my wife- have my kids- please-” Something that has your toes curling with pleasure, branding every ridge and thumping vein down his shaft into your walls contorting around him. Hiccuping - little sobs curling at the back of his throat, “Please- please I need you to marry me-” 

It’s overspilling - adding to that little milky pool from below. He’s barely even thinking before swiping a hand through some of those creamy remnants of cum. Sucking. Taking your own - popping that ring finger of yours into his mouth.

Drool drips down the side of his sodden lips, moving to mewl softly. “D-did that really just happen?”

The words come out nothing but a whisper, strangled and strained from the very depths of his rumbling chest. And Choso’s peering down at you like you were everything - his softening cock sending sparks down his spine with every slight rub down your sopping wet folds. 

“Mhm–” your hands make their way down his pecs, rubbing over pert, pink nipples. Something that makes him let out a low shudder, reddened divot bursting in a few more wispy strings of seed. “N’ you did so hngh- good, Cho.”

“D-did I? Was I your oh- good boy?” he stutters, before letting out a keening pout. “B-but I need to have you cum, too, baby- need to have you cum-” And you’re so at his ravenous mercy when Choso swipes a wet thumb over and over down your throbbing clit. “-and then- then can we get married?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - MESS!

“What the fuck-” The king of curses breathes - he heaves - like never before, even in that human form of his right now. “Wh-what the fuck have you done to me, woman-”

And all the foes in the world had nothing against your honeyed whines. Absolutely no match for the way your elastic walls were clinging around his throbbing cock so tight. No match for your cockdrunk babbling that drove him insane.

“Such a filthy mouth you h-have-” he groans, leering over his inhumanly powerful body to bend over yours. You’re gaping when one of his big, beefy arms jostle you upwards into a headlock. Even shapeshifted from his true form, he was still so strong. Spitting, “Do you dare to- fuck- move those pretty lips of yours n’ repeat those words back to me, brat.”

As if you could do anything else. 

“I-I said-” you’re choking out, panting in feverish gasps of the heady air. “-said I want you to c-cum inside-”

Oh. 

In a split-second, you’re feeling your tautly stretched walls expand to limits you weren’t even sure were possible. The very bottom of your pussy being ravaged with two circular brandings - two. Two matching rock-hard cocks jostling around you. 

And the stretch of Sukuna’s devilishly true form opening your cunt to its very limits is so maddening that it takes you a second to realize that the rest of him had shapeshifted, too. 

Suddenly bigger, suddenly more towering, suddenly the king of curses. 

His strong forearm curls even tighter around your throat, knocking the remaining gasps out of your lungs. “Seriously? L-look where talking outta ya slutty pussy hah- got me-” Sukuna chuckles. Deep and rumbling from his bulging pecs, “-c-can’t even hold a n-normal form- you made me do this- fuck-”

He was fucking you like it was your fault.

Solid inches upon inches that were bruising. And if you thought that Sukuna’s size was staggering in whatever human form he’d conjured up for the safety of your poor pussy - it was absolutely incredible with both his twin girthy cocks. Bigger, thicker. The slightest ruts and grinds into your gushing cunt having him knocking into your lungs, painting down a hefty load of steamy precum. 

Messy.

“Messy-” you hear a primal rumble from above you. Shit, did you say that out loud? Condensed breath heady and hot against your ear, “Heheh- you think this is m-messy, lil’ human? Wait until I-I- hah-”

“Y-you’re really gonna cum inside, Kuna?” you’re batting your teary lashes up at your king, a delirious smile smearing itself all over your face. 

Wobbling when his snapping hips purposefully slow down to mere gyrating squelches, every push and pull feeding your slobbery pussy languidly. You have him hypnotized, maw slacking open with every lazy drag of his heavy cocks back and forth back and forth back and- “Mhm- gonna fill ya up. Breed ya u-until you’re begging that ya can’t take it. Until y-you’re all round n’ glowing with my heirs.”

God. He was out of control.

“I-I can take it-” Your nails rake airily down his ever-tightening forearm - nothing but mere kitten scratches to Sukuna. “Promise Kuna- I can-”

“Tch- this damn naughty m-mouth of yours.” he smirks in a sleazy way - just about all that Sukuna can do to not let his voice break out in whimpers right now. All he can do to hold back his building high, curvaceous tips of his thickened cocks spazzing out tight, voluminous globs of wispy white. He’s covering your prattling mouth with one hand, “Take it then- take it- but ya better make an equal mess f’me. Heh-”

Even through your bleary mind, you already knew what he wanted - to have you squirt all down Sukuna’s weepy cocks. To make a mess. 

Always his favorite.

“Th-think ya can do that?” He snarls down at you, twiddling a few sopping wet digits to toy with your pulsing clit. Third and fourth arms snaking around your waist to keep from your pathetic scrambling. To stop your escape when his hips jackhammer away harder. “Can you- my queen?”

Oh, he cuts himself off with a whimper.

Because all of a sudden your gushing cunt is surging out in waves of translucent slick. It sticks to his rubbing cocks - and all the way to his washboard abs -like a gloss, stars behind your eyes when Sukuna’s fucking you through your high. Praises slipping out in a way that would’ve tarnished the king’s reputation if anyone found out.

But right now, he didn’t care. 

Not when he’s all but bursting from his bawling tips - such thick rivers of cum that knock mercilessly into your gummy spots. The force of both his fat heads streaming out relentlessly is enough to leave your forbidden sweet spots all bruised and battered. 

Inflating your snug channel until Sukuna only had to slide a hand down to about halfway down your abdomen, pressing down at that nudge. “Heh, s’right at h-home-” 

And now that he’s filled your pretty pussy with seed, Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t think it’s possible to cum anywhere else. With a shuddering hiss, he’s dragging his cocks out, spying down with hooded eyes at the way your sloppy entrance was molding and constrictign around him - like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of him.

But Sukuna had other plans - plans that included letting his second tongue loll out, rough tastebuds sweeping a long lick down your leaky slit. Creamy cum trickling down the pinkish muscle, and he could feel his mouth grinning. Something he’s been wanting to do since he moment he fucking saw you.

“H-hey-” you’re turning your head to huff back at him. 

Smack!

“Ahh, stop yer whining-” Sukuna’s smoothing one hand down over the raised bumps of all five digits on your ass, another one of his hands guiding his fat bases to drive up your sopping crease. Pooling the milky remnants on his rotund tips. “-because m’not done breeding this cunt properly yet, my queen.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Limit(less)

“This time-” Gojo’s heaving out a dragging shudder, his face burying hotly within the tender crook of your neck. Spitting - panting, “This time this time- this- time-”

Oh, it’s been just about the same thing that he’s been babbling for the past few hours now. All that he can utter after so long of his sensitively overworked cock stuffing in and out over your overspilling cunt, flickers of jujutsu bolting with every sodden drag down your melty walls.

Truly, the strongest didn’t expect to be addicted the first time he filled your drooling pussy with thick globs of his seed - it was an accident, the first trial of trying to use limitless for its…unintended purposes. 

But right now, Gojo had absolutely no clue if this was the nth trial or whether he was simply addicted to breeding your pretty cunt.

“T-Toru–” Your fingers scramble backwards to bury in his snow locks - difficult, with the way that your boyfriend was wrangling you into a tight full nelson. Feeling the push and pull of thick cursed technique in the air - inside you. “-s’not gonna work.”

God, just the sear of your grip on his scalp is enough to have Gojo’s hips rutting up in a perfect curve off the plush king-size mattress. Fucking up into your cunt so thoroughly that you gasp at the syrupy slosh of his cum from before inside you. 

His hiccups, voice cracking into a whine at the very end. “D-do you hate me, sweetheart?”

“No?” you’re breathing out in exasperation. But shit, you underestimate just how crazed this tiniest sentiment would drive him, choking back a strangled cry of your name when he’s sending a buzzing smack! down to the hood of your plump cunt. “Fuck- why would you think-”

“Th-then let me use limitless as a- hah- condom, pretty girl-” he’s whining. And you jolt at the wet splatters of a few stimulated, pearlescent tears slipping their way out of Gojo’s eyes. “It’ll work- this time- m’the strongest- s’gonna hah- w-work- a-and if not m’jus’ breedin’ my girl’s cute cunt, r-right?”

But even as he’s prattling on and on about this, you’re feeling the flickering falter of jujutsu around Gojo’s hefty girth. Molding your gummy walls taut around his fat circumference, your spine arches with electricity. 

“Heheh-” Goosebumps prickle down your spine at the high, humorless bout of laughter at your ear - and you crane your head to look at Gojo. Sure that he’s lost it. Already wondering just how high the kill count would be. “-didn’t think th-this pretty pussy of yours would have me so ruined, sweetheart.”

And truly - he sounded like it. 

He looked like it, with his rosy lips ajar, those cerulean eyes watery and half-lidded. Glowing with power and tiny shivers of lighting at every sodden kiss to the bullseye of your g-spot. Clashing over and over in a wet push and pull, Gojo thinks that he could almost feel the rotund indentations of his curved tip right on your sweetest spots. 

“Looks like y-you’re the one ruining me- Toru-” you whine. “Just look-”

Drunkenly, Gojo’s lolling his head to the sound of your voice. Not even looking, barely even thinking - that is, until he sees.

And Gojo can’t help but let out a slew of honeyed, pathetically cracking profanities at the heavenly sight below. Pale forearms stretching out your trembly thighs even more shamefully wide to get an even closer look. 

Of your quivering hole winking up at him glisteningly, coating his fat hilt a creamy ring of white from so many of his failed attempts. Your saturatedly wet pussy lips were practically gulping up all of his heavy inches, slobbering a slow trail of drool down the side of his strawberry pink shaft and onto his twitchy balls. Needy. 

And if Gojo’s limitless protection was unsteady before then-

“Shit-” Gojo takes in a shuddering gasp, slender digits falling down to plant a wet smack! on the very middle of your bulging slit - as if all of this was your fault. “Shit shit shit shit- I-I can’t- oh-” Sharp canines sinking down so hard into your skin that you think he might break through. Just about all that’s keeping Gojo tethered to reality when his limitless shatters. “Oh god. Th-think s’gonna be another b-baby…”

All the way into a zillion pieces of nothingness and-

And then he’s cumming. 

Cumming so hard that the dim lamps by the side of your bed flickers. Then explodes. 

Pouring out such steaming hot piles of his cum - once. Twice. Before his swollen, overwhelmed balls are clenching and then he’s shooting nothing but pathetic blanks. 

It takes you a second to register the sudden darkness - all across Tokyo, in fact. You’re gasping, “O-oh, Toru did you-”

“Run out-” he’s giggling. Giggling. “Fuck you m-made me- hah- really milked me dry, didn’t ya- Spread those pretty legs a bit more, pretty girl. Let me see.” All five rounded pads of his fingers are bruising on your thigh when Gojo’s splaying them out to confirm the sputtering way his cock was driving into you. “Can’t- can’t believe- no way, baby m’supposed t-to fill you up-”

Shit, he was babbling out his true intentions so stupidly. But luck was on his side, because with a final, jujutsu-sheened swat at your cunt, the buzzing power finally sends you over the edge. 

Crashing headfirst into waves upon waves of white-hot pleasure, the engulfing goodness made you squeal. And it made Gojo grit his teeth with a low whimper at the way the simple clenching convulse of your gripping walls wrapped around his cock made him twitch in another dry orgasm. Another. And another. 

God, his first - well, not quite first - time cumming inside you and he’s already so fucked out.

Yet, despite it all, Gojo could almost count it a success…almost. 

“S-sweetheart, y’know Yaga always taught us that science experiments have hah- twenty-five trials, right?”

“...”

A/N. Gojo’s so annoying I love him.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[classyrbf]

jjk men vs nipple piercings🤭

LOOK, BUT DON'T TOUCH! — JJK MEN

SYNOPSIS...how the jjk men act when you decide to get your nipples pierced

INFO...jjk men x fem!reader, suggestive content, talks of sex, talks of touching breasts, talks of sucking on breasts, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

thank you for the request @kyymanii

GOJO

he’s completely shocked the moment you pull up your shirt and reveal them. I’m talking, jaw dropped, eyes bulging out his head. It’s nothing his six eyes have seen before. “Holy…can I touch em?” He pouts, reaching his hands out before you slap them away. “Ow!”

“They’re freshly pierced and I’m not risking you ruining them.” You shake your head. “Look all you want, Toru, but no touching!”

“Baby! Please!” He clasps his hands together. “I’ll get down on my knees! Just touch around them? Please, please, please—”

“I said no.” You pull your shirt back down and he lets out the most dramatic cry you’ve ever heard in your life.

“How long do I have to go without touching your beautiful melons, baby?” He sniffles, wiping a fake tear.

“Ew, don’t call them that. And a few months at least,” you explain.

“No!” He cries out, dramatically flopping on the bed.

NANAMI

As soon as you walk in the door, Nanami can already see the mischievous smile on your face. He knows you’re up to no good. “Kentoooo!” You call out his name, walking over to him.

“Yes, honey.” He pulls his reading glasses off and looks up from his book. And without warning, you lifted your shirt and his eyes go wide. “Oh…I—wow…”

“You like ‘em?” You giggle. He nods silently, he can’t even take his eyes off of you. “Can’t touch ‘em though.”

“What? What do you mean?” He sounds genuinely confused, blinking up at you. “Honey, you can’t just show me that and not expect to want to touch them.”

“No touching, mister. Look all you want, drool all you want, but no touching.” You pull your shirt back down carefully.

“You are such a tease.” He huffs, putting his glasses back on. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

GETO

“Sugu, baby, guess what?” You place your bag down on the bed, carefully slipping your jacket off. He walks out the bathroom shirtless, stretching his arms.

“What is it, babe?” He leans against the wall as you turn towards him and lift your shirt up. “Oh? Oh!” His brows furrow.

“You like it? Now we match.” You nod towards his pierced chest.

“Baby, you can’t get your nipples pierced.” He walks over to you, placing his hands on your waist.

“Why not? You don’t think they look nice?” You frown.

“Oh, no, they do. That’s the problem. Now I have to wait months before I can suck on your pretty tits again. You torture me, love,” he sighs heavily.

“Oh shit. I didn’t think about that.” You’re quick to realize the consequences of your actions knowing it’s all too late to do anything about it.

TOJI

You hid your piercings as best as you could from Toji in the few days that you got them. Opting on wearing a shirt everytime you had sex and he found it odd, thinking you were growing insecure. Then, one day he realized he could see piercings through one of your tight shirts. “You sneaky little shit.”

“Huh—hey!” You protest as he lifts up your shirt, exposing your chest. “Toji!”

“No wonder you’ve been wearing shirts during sex.” He stares at your tits, reaching a hand out.

“Do not touch them!” You grab his wrist. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. You can’t keep your hands to yourself for shit!”

“Awe, come on,” he chuckles. “How do you expect me to when your tits look like that. And now that you got them pierced? I’m hard just thinking about it.” He bites down on his bottom lip.

“Look at them however you want, but hands off!” You pull your shirt down.

“As long as you keep wearing shirts like that, oh I will.” He smirks.

CHOSO

Choso sat there with his eyes closed, smiling as he waited for the surprise you supposedly had for him. “Can I open?”

“Not yet!” You smile, lifting your shirt to your chest. “Okay, open!”

He opens his eyes expecting a gift bag or a box, but nope. All he sees in front of his are your tits. Your pierced tits. He feels his cheeks heat up and looks away. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to look!”

“No, Choso! That was the surprise!” You laugh. “I got them pierced. He slowly looks back at your chest, blinking.

“They…look really, really nice.” He gulps.

“Yeah? I think so too. Can’t touch them though or they can get infected.” You pout, feeling how sore your breasts were.

“What? You mean I can’t touch them? Like at all?” He asks.

“Well, not too close to the piercing. It’s very sore,” you explain. “Boobies are off limits for a good while, baby.”

“But your boobs are my favorite.” His face scrunches up in dissatisfaction.

[runariya]

Beyond Probability JJK (m.)

summary: Matching with an idol? Unlikely. But with a 99% compatibility? Beyond probability. pairing: idol!Jungkook x f!reader genre: idolvers, S2L, fluff, smut rating: 18+, MDNI! warnings: fluff, fluff, a bit of self doubt, fluff, fluff, explicit sexual content, shower sex, unprotected sex, pls lmk if I forgot smth word count: ~ 4k

a/n: It’s a rly cute and short oneshot, light and mainly fluff, nothing too deep, no big words etc this time. Just had to get it out of my system since the idea’s been on my mind for months now (unedited bc I fell ill halfway through writing it 🤒)

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

Your biological clock’s ticking—has been for some years now—and even though you’re only now nearing 30, you’re painfully aware that the life you pictured as a kid might never come true.

It’s not like you’re unstable in who you are or what you’re doing. You’re fairly successful at your job, you’ve got your own place, and you’re more social than most people these days. Still, you’re only what most would call average-looking, and even though you’ve got a good career, you’re too soft to keep it up forever. You picture yourself more as a loving wife and mother than a corporate boss bitch climbing the ladder of success.

That’s also why your dating life has been rocky all along. Men see what you put out there, but they don’t like who you really are or what you want from life, which has left you single for most of it.

So, when a new project starts—after the K-pop industry finally acknowledges that idols need partnerships and a life of their own, and fans finally understand that these people are human too, that they deserve to experience love and happiness like everyone else—you decide to take your chances too.

Funnily enough, all the labels have teamed up, hiring not only the best scientists and psychologists from Korea but from around the world to create a program that can find ideal matches for their idols. Sure, science shouldn’t determine who you fall in love with, but… what if it could?

After being pre-selected—just to confirm you’re not some crazed fan—you’ve spent over two weeks going through tests. Recorded interviews, personality assessments, even physical evaluations… now you’re staring at your company’s computer screen, listening to Dr. Song explain the results through the phone. 

���Ninety-nine percent?”

“Yes. The chances of such a high compatibility score are next to impossible. We see it as a perfect match and would like to introduce you to your match.”

“Sure, of course.” Even though your voice is steady, you can feel your nerves flaring up like never before.

“Is tomorrow at 8 p.m. alright for you?”

“Yes, that works for me.”

“Perfect, we’ll see you then.”

Well, joke’s on you, you didn’t expect this outcome. 

Meeting an idol feels surreal, and the closer you get to 8 p.m. the next day, the more you can feel the anxiety and doubts inside you rising. Every last detail in Dr. Song’s calm, clinical rundown replays in your mind, the ninety-nine percent match, the endless rounds of testing, the surreal realisation that, somehow, all those numbers and algorithms miraculously spat out a name next to yours. 

You want to trust that there’s a reason for this, that somehow science isn’t just working with chance, but the tension of actually meeting someone this special is so overwhelming you barely notice yourself entering the lab building until you’re standing outside Dr. Song’s office.

“Right on time,” she chirps, giving you an approving nod. She seems to sense your nerves, and as she leads you down a hallway you’ve never been before, she gives you a reassuring smile. “I know this is all a lot. But he’s likely feeling the same way. The tests told us that he’s, well, quite like you.”

Her words would make you laugh in any other situation, though disbelief and a strange kind of comfort floods through you still. Like you. An idol, standing here in a lab somewhere to meet some random stranger, feeling just as out of place as you. You’re not sure of that but still like to think it must be true. 

You don’t have time to process it fully before you’re led into a quiet room with yellowish walls so plain they almost blur in the corners of your vision, a low, comfortable couch and a couple of chairs standing there and none of the lab equipment that surrounded you in the testing rooms all those weeks ago. 

And then you spot him, sitting on the couch, alone. He stands the second you walk in, hands half in his pockets, a slight, almost unsure smile grazing his lips as he glances down at you. He’s got that casual look about him, the same dark eyes you’ve seen a hundred times on a screen that somehow feel warmer and more human here. 

He looks not quite better than he does on screen, but not worse either. Somehow, he’s realer, if that’s a word—close enough that you can see the little flecks of colour in his irises, the slight tension in his posture, the faintest trace of nerves hiding under his composure.

“Hi.” Jungkook’s voice is lower, softer than you expect from an idol. “Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook.”

“Nice to meet you too. I’m ___.” There’s a pause, and you can tell he’s just as unsure what to do with the space between you two as you are. The click of the door makes you turn around briefly, only to realise Dr. Song has left you both alone. “This is, um, weird, right?”

He nods, a quick, breathy laugh breaking through. “Very. I mean, this isn’t exactly a ‘normal’ kind of meeting, right?”

His words are awkward but disarming, and suddenly, you’re aware of all the tiny, meticulous details of him that somehow make him feel more relatable than his polished, on-screen persona. The way his hand keeps moving to rub against his thigh or abs, his tongue playing with his lips and piercing ever so slightly—everything about him is familiar but also somehow close enough to feel completely new.

“I don’t think I was ready for this,” you admit. You aren’t really talking to him but more like letting your own thoughts slip out in the safest way possible, like saying it makes it feel less absurd.

“Honestly, same.” He laughs, and you think there’s a light flutter in your chest now. “I kept thinking about this whole ninety-nine percent thing. Like… how does that even work? Isn’t it supposed to feel, I don’t know, obvious? Like you know the moment you see someone?”

You nod, understanding exactly what he means, and somehow you move on autopilot, walking towards him and sitting down on that couch with him beside you. It feels like you should both somehow know, like there’s a sign or an instant connection, something that would make all of this feel simple, easy. But it’s just the two of you in a quiet room, barely knowing each other, held together by nothing but a number on a report.

“Yeah, that’s so wild. I didn’t think I’d have a match, this close to a hundred even less. Might be a glitch if our score is this high.”

Jungkook nods with sparkling eyes, seemingly relieved by your honesty and humour. “Yeah, I get that. I kept thinking about it too. Wondering if maybe the tests were wrong, or maybe I was just…thinking too much.” He lets out a sigh, his gaze meeting yours for a long, meaningful second. “But I think maybe this is about finding out, right? Not having it all make sense right away.”

“Hm, makes sense.” You giggle, because what else can you do in the presence of him.

The two of you sit there in a momentary silence, as if testing each other, feeling out the small boundaries that keep you both distant.

“So, what did the report tell you about me?” You ask the question half-jokingly, trying to break the quiet, but also curious. You want to know what he knows, how much of this supposed ninety-nine percent compatibility is actually something that either of you feel. 

He lets out a silent breath, looking down as if slightly embarrassed. “Honestly, not as much as you’d think. They told me you were kind of… soft-spoken but resilient? And that you have a job that’s, uh, stable and…” He trails off, the tips of his ears slightly pink, like he’s embarrassed to keep going.

“And?” You can’t help but push further—not maliciously, just way too curious and playful for your own good. Jungkook’s expression shifts from embarrassed to surprised, and then to a look that’s just as playful.

“And that we’re, apparently, very much sexually compatible.”

Really, you should be the one feeling embarrassed or shy now, but you can’t help the laugh that slips out. You know exactly what he’s hinting at—your report clearly showed the same.

“Well, it might be not wrong. And they told me…” You pause, realising that you barely remember the details in the face of the reality in front of you but alas. “They said you’d be a good match because, I think, there was something about humour?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Humour? Never heard of it.” And it makes you laugh all over again. “I feel like they just told us things we’d want to hear, to make it seem easier and normal.”

His words hit close to home, but they’re strangely comforting in the way he says them. You reckon, he’s just as bewildered by this as you are, maybe even more so. And somehow, in the middle of all the awkwardness, you find yourself genuinely smiling at him, naturally gravitating towards him, finding that there’s a softness and reassurance in his gaze, a gentleness that cuts through your nerves like a knife through melted butter in the sun. 

You start talking more freely after that, exchanging stories that are too mundane to make sense in any real context but feel right here. You tell him about your last trip to the beach, how you got sunburned and spent the whole evening sitting on your balcony, nursing it with iced water and aloe, wishing for a helping hand that you didn’t have. He laughs, nodding along as if he can picture it exactly and tells you about how he tried to make pasta he ate in Italy for the first time a few months back and ended up burning the whole batch, because no one was by his side, so badly his kitchen smelled like smoke for days.

The more you talk, the more you notice the little things about him that aren’t so polished, aren’t so perfect, and make him feel more human and real than anyone you ever met. He has a way of listening, eyes intent on yours, like he’s trying to pick apart every word to understand it better. When he laughs, it’s with his whole face, even body, not the careful, composed look of an idol but a natural, carefree laugh that makes you feel like maybe he’s as relieved as you are to be here, to have someone he doesn’t have to impress. 

At some point, you both lapse into a comfortable silence, each lost in your own thoughts but somehow still connected. The tension from earlier has faded away, replaced by a soothing aura you know you don’t want to miss for a day in your life.

Eventually, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes sucking you in without much resistance. “I kept thinking this would feel forced, you know? Like we’d be sitting here, struggling to find anything in common.” He leans back, drapes his arm around the back of where you’re sitting, glancing up at the ceiling as if searching for the right words. “But… it doesn’t feel that way. You feel… I don’t know, right?”

The slight flutter in your chest has now swelled into a full-blown hurricane, and you’re not sure if it’s that ninety-nine percent compatibility causing it. But you don’t let yourself think too much—not when you’ve both been inching closer with each word, not when you take a chance and lean in, resting your head against his side. Especially not when his arm settles directly over your shoulder, pulling you a little closer, his other hand finding yours, fingers intertwining just to see how it feels.

“Yeah, it feels right. I really like this.”

As you absently play with his fingers, breathing in his scent for the first time and deciding it’s like heaven, you let yourself trust science. Because this feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

While the first meeting with Jungkook went better than you’d ever hoped, you’re painfully aware of your overthinking nature. Overthinking in a way that makes it painfully clear there are countless women out there who, on the surface, would seem a better visual match for him than you.

Overthinking to the point where you wonder why Jungkook would even need matchmaking when he could so easily choose a partner on his own. It’s also why staying focused at work isn’t exactly easy today, knowing that soon his label will be sending a car to pick you up for your next meeting with him.

You understand the precautions they’ve taken and completely agree it’s better to meet in a private, safe space rather than making headlines this early on. That’s why, as the tinted car arrives, you feel a bit more at ease than you have all day.

Soon enough, you’re driving down the path to the label’s underground garage, and while you fix your makeup real quick, the car comes to a stop. The driver nods and guides you towards the lift, where the lights are dim and everything has this quiet, professional atmosphere you’ve only seen on screen.

You try to take it all in, letting your thoughts settle just a bit more as you follow through to the hallways upstairs, past doors labelled with room numbers and studios, and then finally, you’re outside the door to Jungkook’s studio, right where you’re supposed to meet.

Your heart beats a little faster as you hear Jungkook’s familiar voice call out, “Come in,” and when you open the door, you find him leaning casually against the chair before his equipment with an easy smile that somehow manages to be both happy and slightly flirty. 

Again, Jungkook’s dressed just like uniquely him, with a few silver rings glinting on his fingers. And while you didn’t think he’d even get up to greet you, he steps forward and embraces you in hug so tight, it leaves you drowning in him. 

“Hey,” he greets with that disarming grin, eyes boring into you, taking in your formal work attire, as he gestures to the coffee set up besides his laptop. “Hope you don’t mind the casual vibe.”

You laugh a little, settling onto the free chair beside him, feeling a bit strange but somehow not. “I think it’s perfect. And to be honest, I don’t think I’d cope well with the whole five-star dining treatment and whatnot.”

He laughs, nodding in agreement, taking your purse from your hands and draping it casually over the back of his chair. The fact that he’s still so attentive, even though he’s clearly in his element here but completely relaxed, is rather fascinating and pulls you in even more.

Like the day before, talking with him comes easy, and while there’s nothing groundbreaking in your conversations, every word feels meaningful in the bigger picture.

Eventually, you feel yourself relaxing like you were at home by your own, getting comfortable enough to let out the thoughts that have been swimming in your head since last night. “I’ve thought a lot about how all of this could play out,” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee, trying to find the right words, though knowing there won’t be any wrong words when talking with Jungkook. “And honestly, I’m not really interested in taking things public if they did work out. I know that’s probably strange to say, but I’m not cut out for the spotlight.”

He tilts his head, watching you thoughtfully. “No, it’s not strange at all. I get it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you go on, “I just want something real. A partner who’s loyal, someone who’s there because we get each other, not because we’re some public ‘it’ couple, parading around every chance we get. Does that sound crazy?”

He shakes his head, while he swings from one side to the other.  “Not at all. That actually sounds perfect to me.” There’s a sincerity in his tone that makes you feel, for the first time, like there’s some truth to your report. “The whole ‘idol’ thing is just a job. It’s not who I am, not at the core. And having someone who sees it that way, is what I want too.”

It elates you to know that you could have something like this, with him,  someone you could genuinely share your life with.

Then, in a thoughtful voice, he asks, “What do you want for the future? I mean, outside all of this.” 

You take a breath, feeling a little nervous but wanting to be honest. It’s not like it’s news to him, seeing that this information’s written in the report he was handed. “I want something traditional. A home, a family, maybe staying home with kids, having that steady, grounded life. It sounds simple, I know, but it’s what I’ve always pictured.” You look up at him, expecting maybe a hint of judgement, but instead, you find him nodding, his eyes lighting up like a candle in the night.

“I don’t think that sounds simple at all, but meaningful.”

A shy smile forms on your lips as you add, “Sometimes I feel like people don’t see that side of things anymore, you know? Like everyone’s so focused on careers and success and everything else… and I get that, I do, but I’ve always just wanted something steady. Something I can hold on to.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers like second nature intertwine with yours, and the gesture is so simple yet so heartwarming that you feel like squealing out of happiness. “That’s exactly what I want too.” It’s nothing new to you too, but him saying that, seeing the honesty in his eyes, is better than any data shown to you. “I want that sense of home.”

You feel yourself falling a little harder, a little faster, and maybe that scares you a bit. You’ve seen the kind of attention he gets, the kind of girls that throw themselves at him, and it’s hard not to let those doubts creep in. Especially now. “I know this probably sounds insecure,” you start awkwardly, glancing away, “I think, I don’t know, maybe I’m not the kind of person someone like you would go for. I mean, you could have anyone, and not just because you’re an idol.”

He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. And while his mouth opens to say something, the pull against your hand surprises you as much as him settling you in his lab. “Hey, don’t think like that. I’m here because I want to be. And trust me, I’m not looking for ‘anyone’. I’m looking for someone who gets me. And that someone is you, no?”

The look in his eyes is so genuine, so unguarded, that it’s hard to keep your heart from doing all sorts of stunts. He’s not the polished idol right now; he’s just Jungkook, being flirty, being compassionate, being so him, sitting in a cosy studio with his tattoos, his piercings, his moles, his beautiful smile, his whole presence more comfortable and inviting than you could have imagined.

And as he sits there, looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, you realise that you definitely don’t have to doubt this. Maybe it’s okay to let yourself believe that he’s here because he wants to be, that he’s falling for you irrevocably just as you’re falling for him. 

“Sooo… that means?” You know you need to be brave now, because if this isn’t a dream, you’d never forgive yourself for not taking the leap.

“That means, if you want to, I’d love to have you as my girlfriend.”

“Isn’t it a bit rushed?” You don’t actually think so, but you still need to be sure.

“I’m all in if you are. I don’t want to waste any more time, and even though it’s just a report, I can feel there’s real truth behind it.”

Fast forward seven months, and you find yourself pressed against the shower wall like you do every night. But this time, it’s different—just hours ago, you made your first public appearance on a music show with Jungkook, just because you both felt ready, where he was not only nominated for Best Singer of the Year but won as well.

“Koo, right there, right there.”

It still amazes you how his cock seems to find your g-spot as soon as he enters you, though you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Yeah? Right there, hm? Or is it…” he trails off, shifting his hips ever so slightly, making you realise he’s actually hit the centre point of your g-spot now, his hard, unrelenting thrusts pushing you over the edge without warning.

“Oh my goooddd,” your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open against the cool shower wall, as your cunt keeps gripping him even though it’s already creaming around his cock.

“Good girl, keep going, love. Show me how many you can take tonight.”

There’s nothing you can do, not that you’d want to do anything other than let him rearrange your insides. Especially not when his tattooed hand finds its way from the back of your hair to your jaw, tilting your head to the side, giving you the perfect view of his upper body—rivulets of water cascading down his chiselled form, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed. 

He’s the epitome of perfection. Not just a ninety-nine percent but a hundred. 

His eyes, though hooded, bore into your soul as his hips pick up the pace. It’s this connection you share with him make being with him feel so special.

“Koo…”

“I know, love, just a bit more. Can you be a good girl?”

“Yes,” you moan, because hell, you can. “Yes, for you…ah, winning the trophy.”

Even though you shouldn’t feel his cock twitch with the pace he’s set, you do, realising instantly what he needs tonight.

“Best singer, Koo…fuck…best boyfriend, only fucking me when, hmm, the whole world wants a piece of you.”

“Only you. Always you, ___, love.” You think you catch him licking a drop of saliva from his lips as he stares down at where your bodies connect, sending another wave of arousal from your stretched-out hole.

“You’re so big.”

“Just for you, fuck, squeeze a bit more.”

It’s not that you did it on purpose, but when his hand shoots down to your clit, circling it just right, your body responds as though it’s never felt this good, soaking him even more and gripping him tight as a vice.

“Like that, love, like that.” Jungkook grunts and pants, holding you harder, tighter as his cock seems to swell even more, pumping frantically in sync with your impending second orgasm.

When Jungkook can’t hold back any longer, it’s all you need to let go too, the rush flowing through your veins just as fiercely as the love you feel for this man.

After some time, Jungkook pulls out, helping you straighten up and lean against his chest under the stream. His veiny hands trail down your body, washing away his release dripping out of you, as he plants kisses along the side of your face.

When he’s had enough, he, like always, turns you, brushing the wet strands of hair from your face. And as you do the same to him, captivated by how content and in love he looks, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world when, for the first time, Jungkook declares his feelings.

“I love you, till the day I die, ___.”

“I love you too, and beyond.”

Because this, because having Jungkook calling you his, is beyond probability.

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 👀 If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

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permanent taglist: @runariyaluvr , @kookiewithluv , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @https-mei, @xsyruhh , @nemelkawar , @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92

[skinnyhyena]

When you accidentally write an essay in the tags...

queer people on this site really make me feel like a confused straight guy at pride. the discourse here could kill a man

[cameronsprincess]

reader being a spoiled “good girl” kook who doesn’t give rafe the time of day with his reputation and treats jj like shit when he does work around her house for her dad. at least until jj’s snap story updates with her getting fucked from behind, the hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise having that unmistakable signet ring on it and jj’s moans being heard from behind the camera as his cum starts to land on her tear stained face 😌

OH. this has been rotting since the end of july and i’m sooo sorry, i hope you see this sweet nonnie🥺🩷

CW: smut! 18+ only! threesome, jj posts it on his snap story, piv sex, male receiving oral, facial, praise and degrading. rafe ‘n jj are kinda fucked up for this but oh well.

requests | deadly duo masterlist

You’d always been known as the “good girl” on the island. You never got into any trouble, you steered clear of parties, and you definitely didn’t hang out with people who were constantly getting themselves into some shit.

Rafe Cameron was nothing if not persistent, he’d always tried to hit you up, asking what you were doing, wanting you to hang out with him, but you never gave him the time of day, why would you? He was not a good guy, and everyone knew it.

The same goes for JJ Maybank, the well known, most attractive Pogue on the island. You saw him a lot, seeing as your father had hired him to do work around your house a lot. JJ was also quite persistent, always trying to make you crack, bend your own rules, but your walls you’d spent years building up had you treating him like the no-good Pogue he was.

You treated both men pretty unfairly, at least, that’s what the public saw. No one knew that you were secretly a filthy slut behind closed doors for both the Kook and Pogue kings of Kildare Island.

“That’s it, baby, takin’ Rafe’s cock so fuckin’ good aren’t you? That tight little cunt loves to be pounded from behind doesn’t she?”

JJ’s words have your pussy clenching tightly around Rafe’s thick length, pulling a low groan from him. Your bloodshot eyes look up, finding JJ’s ocean-blues, his phone’s camera pointed right down at you.

Wanting to give JJ something good to watch later, you push your head down further, taking his entire length down your throat, eyes never leaving his. JJ groans, his free hand making its way to the back of your head, fingers tightly gripping at the messy, tangled locks. He holds your head down, forcing you to suck in breaths through your nose the best you can.

He slightly tilts his phone up, capturing only Rafe’s toned abdomen and the way his hands were tightly gripping at your hips. His fingers dig into your skin so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises later, but you’re too fucked out to care. You loved that they were your dirty little secret, loved the way they took turns fucking your throat, pussy and even sometimes your ass. They knew you had a reputation to uphold though, and they didn’t seem to mind the way you treated them in public, so long as they could fuck you like this whenever they wanted, you could do as you pleased in front of everyone else.

“Fuck, Y/N, your pussy feels so goddamn good, gripping my cock like she was fuckin’ made f’me.” Rafe rasps, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

JJ releases your head, allowing you to pull off of him and suck in a much needed breath of air. More tears slip past your lower lashes, making JJ breathe out a dark laugh.

“God, you look so fuckin’ pathetic, cryin’ like a fuckin’ baby while Rafe fucks that sweet cunt and I take this sweet mouth. Go on, suck my cock, princess, it’s aching for you.”

Rafe grunts, his fingers digging into your hips harder as he uses them to pull you back onto his cock, forcing you to meet each of his thrusts.

You lower your head, tongue darting out and softly swirling around the swollen, leaking head of JJ’s cock. He groans, lowering his phone back down to capture you sucking him off again.

“Eyes on the camera, baby. Don’t wanna miss a second of your facial expressions while my cock is down your throat and Rafe fucks you from the back.”

You quickly obey, forcing your eyes to look up and into the camera of JJ’s phone. You begin bobbing your head up and down his length, sucking and licking every last inch of him until you feel his cock pulse inside your mouth.

Rafe groans, slamming his hips forward one final time before his warm, sticky load is filling your pussy. “Fuuuuuck, baby, gonna have you leaking my cum for the rest of the day.” Rafe groans, holding onto your hips as he holds your ass flush against his groin as he rides out his high.

JJ isn’t too far behind Rafe, quickly pulling himself from your mouth and jerking his cock. A low, raspy groan fills the air as his cock twitches, his warm, sticky cum landing on your face and tits. JJ slowly removes his hand from his softening dick, his phone coming down and right in your face as he records the little facial he gave you.

“That’s it, baby. Gotta show everyone whose fucking girl you are, don’t we?”

In your euphoric, fucked out haze, you don’t catch JJ’s words… You just softly nod your head, saying “Yeah… Your girl.”

He and Rafe share a look, laughing lightly between one another before they both remove themselves from your bed, quickly dressing and helping clean you up. JJ tucks you into your bed after they have you completely cleaned up, placing a soft kiss on your forehead and whispering, “Maybe this’ll teach you to be nicer to us in public, baby.”

[voyter]

DEVOTION — jeon jungkook.

genre. a song of ice and fire au. 103 AC. smut. knight!jungkook. queen!reader.

your knight is completely devoted to you, and while it’s his duty, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more behind his unwavering loyalty.

word count. 17.1k words (FUCK i am so sorry) warnings. this fic might be a bit confusing if you havent watched game of thrones or house of the dragon !!! misogyny. gender dynamics. seokjin and namjoon cameo hehe. forced / arranged marriage. over protective jungkook <3. cute convo between oc and her husband. violence. mentions of blood and murder. SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION. smut. two sex scenes !! dry humping. oral (male!receiving). unprotected sex (this universe takes place thousands of years ago and condoms didnt exist yet give me a break). bath sex. they almost get caught OOP. cheating (but both parties are consenting and they both openly do it to each other but they dont love each other romantically so its okay i guess) ???? jungkook literally worships her oh im sick i need him.

seven's notes. this fic ended up being much longer than i anticipated but oh my gosh i literally could NOT STOP WRITING !!! this is the longest fic ive ever written hello. this is inspired by alicent and coles relationship in season 2. sorry i hate them but this trope ??? OUUU TOO GOOD. so you know i got inspired. anyways, i love this one so much, so please let me know your thoughts <3. as always, keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

listening to. blue jeans by lana del rey / middle of the night by elley duhé / flawless by the neighbourhood

part of the based off film series. this one shot is based off house of the dragon.

You had always hated the idea of marrying someone you didn’t love, but you knew that marriage was not a choice — it was an obligation woven into the fabric of your destiny. Though reluctance filled you at first, you gradually came to terms with your duty, accepting the role thrust upon you with a measure of peace.

House Emberwyn ruled the Seven Kingdoms, making them the most powerful house of all. Your father had forged a deep bond with King Aelyx, the two men connected by the shared grief of losing their wives. Beyond their friendship, your father was adamant that uniting your houses through marriage was crucial. He envisioned a future where the intertwining of two powerful, wealthy legacies would forge an unbreakable realm.

Atticus, the son of King Aelyx, was only a year older than you — making him a suitable match. Like you, he was reluctant to marry, but he, too, understood the importance of duty. He wanted nothing more than to make his father proud, even if it meant sacrificing personal desire.

As the sole heirs of your respective houses, the pressure to produce children was immediate. The act of intimacy with Atticus was never one of passion or love; it was merely another duty. The first time was uncomfortable, almost unbearable, but over time, you learned to tolerate it. This was your life now, dictated by duty rather than desire.

Since your marriage, you have been blessed with three children. Ares, your eldest and only son, was conceived during your bedding ceremony. Now a boy of one and ten, he is wise beyond his years, his sharp mind driven by a deep love for books and knowledge. Celeste, your first daughter, is nine years old — a whirlwind of wild, unrestrained energy that seems impossible to contain. Already, she’s been eagerly awaiting the day she can take to the skies on dragonback, her spirit far older than her years. Then there is Luna, your youngest and newest addition to the family, a radiant little soul who brings warmth and light into every corner of your life. She is the calm of the storm, a small but powerful source of joy that never fails to lift your spirits, no matter how heavy the burdens of the day.

Atticus is a good father, never neglecting his children. He is present in their lives, providing for them with steadfast love and care. As a husband, he is kind and dutiful. Yet, despite all his virtues, he is not the love of your life.

The two of you had come to an agreement early in your marriage: you were free to seek pleasure where you wished, as long as heirs were made with each other. It was a compromise, one that allowed you both to navigate the confines of your duty while maintaining some semblance of personal freedom.

Tragedy struck shortly after Celeste’s birth when King Aelyx succumbed to an unknown illness. The crown passed to Atticus, and with it came the immense burden of ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

With Atticus as king, you became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, unlike your husband, you did not feel the same pressure. Your days were mostly spent within the confines of your chambers, where the laughter and antics of your children filled your life with light and purpose. Despite never having known your own mother — she had died giving birth to you — you felt as though motherhood had always been your calling.

While you wouldn’t trade your life for anything in the world, motherhood came with its challenges. Ares and Celeste were at the age where they bickered endlessly over the smallest of things — whether it was toys, attention, or simply to see who could get on your nerves first. Their constant squabbles were a source of frustration, and yet you knew it was a phase they would eventually outgrow. Luna, on the other hand, still so small and newly born, could not seem to stop crying. Her wails often filled the castle, and while the maids were always close by, ready to assist, you never allowed them to. You wanted your daughter to find comfort in your arms, not anyone else’s.

There were days when calming her down felt like a losing battle, the hours stretching into what felt like an eternity. But when you finally succeeded, when her cries quieted and her tiny form melted into sleep, it filled you with a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory in a life full of larger, weightier battles.

Fortunately, today was one of the easier days. Luna wasn’t feeling particularly fussy, and after a few gentle rocks and soft pats on her back, she fell asleep in your arms without much protest. Relief washed over you as you gazed down at her peaceful face, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The soft warmth of her against you, the quiet of the room, made you feel like, for a moment, everything was right.

“Your Grace?”

A voice interrupted your quiet reverie, but you didn’t turn. Your eyes remained fixed on Luna, unwilling to break the fragile serenity of the moment. You hummed in response, acknowledging the speaker but unable to tear your gaze from your sleeping daughter.

“Your presence is wanted, though not required, Your Grace.”

The words draw you from your thoughts, and with a soft sigh, you finally turn to face the speaker. It’s the Lord Commander, standing tall and imposing, his armor catching the dim light filtering through the windows.

“What for?” you ask, your voice calm but laced with curiosity.

“The Kingsguard posting,” he replies, his tone formal, as always. “It’s been suggested that you select who will guard the Red Keep.”

You consider his words, your gaze drifting back to Luna, still fast asleep in your arms. The thought of placing your trust in someone else, of relying on others to protect what matters most, brings a weight to your chest. As a mother, your first instinct is always to shield your children. You would want nothing more than for them to roam the castle freely, knowing they were surrounded by those you trusted — those you handpicked.

“I suppose,” you murmur.

After carefully setting Luna in her crib, you linger for a moment, brushing a tender hand over her soft cheek. Ensuring the maids were nearby to watch over her, you quietly slip from the nursery and follow the Lord Commander through the castle's stone corridors. Your thoughts remain on Luna for a heartbeat longer before shifting to the matter at hand — choosing the knights who would guard your family, your children.

You arrive at the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where a line of knights stands at attention, their armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. The air is crisp, the tension palpable as each knight awaits his turn to be presented.

The Lord Commander steps forward, his voice ringing with authority. "Step forward, Ser Kim Namjoon."

The knight moves with a quiet confidence, offering you a small, almost shy smile. Dimples crease his cheeks, and despite the serious nature of the proceedings, you find yourself smiling back, charmed by the warmth in his expression.

"Ser Namjoon has proved strong and steady in both the tourney lists and in service beyond," the Lord Commander begins. "While traveling through the Kingswood on the way to King’s Landing, Ser Namjoon recently brought a would-be poacher to justice."

You listen carefully, considering the man before you. His loyalty and steadiness are clear, and his recent actions speak of a knight who serves with honor. Still, your mind drifts to a darker, more urgent thought — combat. The Red Keep, and more importantly, your children, needed knights who were not only honorable but battle hardened. In these uncertain times, loyalty alone would not be enough. 

"Ser Namjoon," you say, your voice polite yet measured. "We thank you for your loyal service to the Crown."

He bows deeply before stepping back into line, and you offer him a nod in return, though your thoughts continue to circle around the same question — how many of these knights had seen true combat?

The next knight steps forward, and your gaze narrows as you take him in.

"Ser Kim Seokjin," the Lord Commander announces.

This knight is taller, leaner than Namjoon. He holds himself with a quiet grace, his expression serious, but there's a spark of something beneath the surface — determination perhaps, or ambition.

"Winner of the melee at Cider Hall," the Lord Commander continues. "He was the last mounted of three and twenty knights. Ser Seokjin was knighted at eight and ten."

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by his accomplishments. Yet, your thoughts linger on something more pressing, more crucial to the protection of your family.

"Do any of these knights have combat experience?" you ask, your tone sharper now. "Beyond capturing poachers and winning tourneys?"

The Lord Commander nods solemnly, signaling the next candidate.

“Ser Jeon Jungkook.”

As the name is called, a young knight steps forward, noticeably younger than the others who had come before him. Yet, despite his youth, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence, his steps measured and purposeful. Strands of raven hair fall loosely across his forehead, framing a face that, while youthful, is sharp with focus. His dark eyes meet yours with a steady gaze, neither too bold nor deferent — he stands unshaken by the weight of the moment.

He looks about your age, perhaps even younger, and though he lacks the grizzled scars of a seasoned warrior, something about him immediately draws your attention. There's a natural grace in the way he moves, his armor fitting him perfectly as if he was born to wear it. He’s quite handsome, a fact you can’t help but notice as he stands before you, the light of the setting sun casting a faint glow over his features.

"Tell me, Ser Jungkook," you say, breaking the silence, "have you seen real combat?"

He doesn’t falter, his voice steady as he speaks. "I have, Your Grace. I fought for a year as a foot soldier against the Dornish incursions. I was knighted after we razed two of the watchtowers along the Boneway.”

There is no hesitation in his tone, no embellishment. The quiet intensity of his words, the weight of lived experience behind them, strikes you deeply. His demeanor isn't that of a man seeking glory but of one who has already faced the fire and come out stronger for it. In that moment, your decision feels clear.

“It’s settled.” Your lips curve into a smile, one of certainty and satisfaction. “I choose Ser Jungkook.”

The Lord Commander stiffens slightly, his jaw tensing as though weighing whether to speak. Before you can take a step back toward your chambers, his voice interrupts, filled with respectful hesitation. "Perhaps we shouldn’t be too hasty, Your Grace. There is no doubt Ser Jungkook is a fine warrior, but Ser Namjoon and Ser Seokjin are from houses that are important allies of the Crown."

You turn slowly, your expression cool but firm. The politicking of the court — alliances, the endless exchange of favors and titles — was something you understood all too well. Yet, this was not a matter of alliances. This was the safety of your family, the future of your children. And no amount of courtly maneuvering could change that.

“Those men are tourney knights,” you say, your voice laced with a sharp edge. “My children should be defended by a man who’s known real combat. Should they not?”

The Lord Commander pauses, his gaze flickering between the knights and your unwavering stance. He gives a short bow, conceding. “Of course, Your Grace.”

You nod once, satisfied. “Very well, then,” you say, a smile returning to your face, though this time with a sense of finality. “I expect you to plan Ser Jungkook’s investiture.”

There’s a flicker of something in the Lord Commander’s eyes — perhaps begrudging respect or recognition of your authority in this matter. He bows once more before stepping aside. “As you wish, Your Grace. I will see to it.”

As the days passed, it became clear that your decision to appoint Ser Jungkook was more than justified.

Jungkook proved himself an unwavering presence in the lives of your children. He guarded Ares and Celeste like a loyal hound, always at their side, his dark eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger. Wherever they went — whether it was the training yard where Ares spent hours practicing swordplay or the garden where Celeste attempted to name every flower — Jungkook followed, his sight never leaving them.

In the corridors of the Red Keep, you would often catch glimpses of him, stationed at the door to whatever chamber Ares and Celeste had wandered into, standing with that same quiet intensity that first caught your attention. He never intruded upon their activities, never interfered with their games, but his presence was felt all the same. He was a silent sentinel, ensuring that no one entered or exited a room without his knowledge.

Even the servants and court members began to take note, offering respectful nods as they passed him. There was a certain respect that began to build around Jungkook, not just as a knight, but as a protector of the royal family — of your family.

Before Ser Jungkook’s arrival, the Red Keep had always felt secure. Its towering walls and seasoned guards provided a fortress of safety, a place where danger rarely crossed your mind. Yet, somehow, with Jungkook’s arrival, there was a new, tangible sense of protection. His presence, quiet yet vigilant, added an extra layer of assurance, as if the very air had shifted, growing thicker with safety, steadier with his watchful eye. He didn’t need to speak or make grand gestures; just knowing he was there, standing mere feet away from you, made the castle feel more fortified than it ever had before.

In many ways, he made you feel like that too — protected, even in the smallest, unspoken ways.

The Small Council was always the most grueling part of your day. Despite your title as Queen, you found yourself constantly sidelined, your voice often drowned out by the men who dominated the discussions. You had grown accustomed to their subtle condescension — the way they’d nod and pretend to listen, only to carry on as if your words had never been spoken. You’d learned to expect it, but the sting of dismissal never faded entirely.

And today was no different.

As you took your seat, Jungkook stood nearby, ever the silent sentinel. He’d grown adept at reading you, his dark eyes keenly observing the smallest shift in your demeanor. He noticed how, at first, you entered the room with a composed grace, ready to engage in the matters at hand. But as the meeting dragged on, frustration began to creep in, visible in the slight tightening of your jaw each time a man at the table spoke over you or dismissed your suggestions with a polite but infuriating nod.

Jungkook’s eyes followed the subtle changes — the way your posture stiffened, the soft sigh you tried to suppress, and then, finally, the way boredom started to settle in as you reached for the small stone ball on the table, rolling it between your fingers absentmindedly. He knew you were doing your best to remain patient, but the disrespect weighed heavily in the room.

His hand instinctively twitched at his side, a protective instinct rising within him as he stood there watching. He was ready to intervene if the moment called for it, though he knew better than to step in unless absolutely necessary. Still, his silent support was palpable, a reassuring presence amidst the clamor of men who failed to see the strength in the woman before them.

“Perhaps we should discuss Driftmark, Your Grace,” the Maester began, his voice too casual for the gravity of the subject. He directed his attention toward your husband, but the mention of Driftmark instantly drew you in, pulling you from your growing boredom. You straightened in your seat, the defensiveness in your posture clear.

“What of it?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, the raw emotion behind it hard to suppress. Driftmark wasn’t just a topic for idle conversation — it was family. Personal. The loss of the Lord of the Tides, your cousin’s husband, had been a blow that still lingered, and the aftermath of it weighed heavily on your heart.

He had been more than just family; he had adored your children as if they were his own, even naming your daughter, Celeste, as his heir. It was an honor, though one with its own set of complications. With Ares set to inherit the Iron Throne, Celeste was to inherit Driftmark. Your cousin, devastated by the loss of her husband and without heirs of her own, was to hold the seat in her stead until Celeste came of age.

The Maester’s eyes flickered between you and your husband, clearly aware of the tension in the room but too entrenched in his own position to approach the subject delicately. He cleared his throat, then spoke with a tone that bordered on patronizing. “It’s... a delicate matter, Your Grace. There are those who believe the succession should be reconsidered, given your daughter’s age. Furthermore, some question the wisdom of naming a girl as heir to such a powerful seat.”

Your stomach tightened, fury simmering beneath the surface. A girl. As if Celeste’s age or gender diminished her worth, her potential. You could feel the disdain, not just for your daughter, but for the very idea of a woman wielding such power.

You held the Maester’s gaze, your voice sharp with barely concealed fury. “And do you agree with them?”

The chamber seemed to freeze in that moment, the weight of your words pressing down on everyone in the room. All eyes flickered nervously between you and the Maester, the tension palpable as if even the air had thickened, making it harder to breathe. Everyone braced themselves for the confrontation that was surely coming.

The Maester, sensing the chance to finally reveal his true thoughts, straightened in his seat, his chest puffing out as arrogance replaced caution. He no longer glanced toward your husband for approval; instead, his focus was solely on you, his eyes glinting with condescension.

“A woman on the Driftwood Throne, Your Grace?” he repeated, his voice dripping with condescension. “Forgive my candor, but Driftmark is not some soft and delicate estate. It is a seat of warriors, sailors, men of the sea and battle. Its history is steeped in strength and tradition. To put a mere girl — no matter her bloodline — on that chair is folly, plain and simple. A woman’s place is in the home, tending to hearth and children, not commanding fleets or sitting in council chambers. The late Lord has a brother who would make a fine new Lord, more befitting the legacy.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your hands tightening into fists. “His brother has no desire for rule!” you shot back, your temper dangerously close to boiling over. “Celeste is his rightful heir. It was his wish, and it will not be questioned!”

The Maester, unfazed, continues. “Your Grace… with all due respect, your daughter is but a child. A girl of her age should be concerned with dolls and dresses, not the governance of a seat as vital as Driftmark. There are many in the realm who would argue that Driftmark deserves a stronger hand. A male heir, one capable of steering the course of the future, as tradition demands. Perhaps it is time to reconsider your decision, before it’s too late. Before the realm begins to question not only Driftmark’s future, but the Queen’s judgment as well.”

The insult hung in the air like a storm cloud, casting a heavy, suffocating tension over the room. The audacity — the sheer gall of the Maester to question not only your daughter’s right but your authority as Queen. Fury simmered beneath your composed exterior, your hand twitching as though you might lash out.

But before you could muster a response, Jungkook was already moving.

“You will watch your tongue when speaking to the Queen, Maester,” Jungkook’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, carrying the unmistakable weight of a threat. His usually calm demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more menacing. “Or it shall be taken from you.”

The room seemed to shrink around the Maester, all eyes now on him as the color drained from his face. His earlier arrogance dissolved in an instant, replaced with wide-eyed panic. The man who had dared to question your daughter’s birthright now looked as though he might faint from fear.

“I- I meant no offense, Ser Jungkook,” the Maester stammered, his words tumbling over themselves in a desperate attempt to backpedal. His gaze flickered nervously from you to Jungkook, searching for some kind of escape.

“You did,” Jungkook cut him off sharply, his tone like the edge of a blade. His gaze bore into the Maester, unyielding, unwavering. “And I will remind you once more: mind your tongue.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the threat hanging in the air like a blade, and no one doubted that Jungkook would make good on his promise if pushed further.

You turned your gaze to Jungkook, barely concealing your silent shock. The man who stood just feet away, usually so quiet and composed, always speaking only when spoken to, had stepped in to defend you — boldly, without hesitation. The gesture was unexpected, and for a moment, you were struck by the kindness and protectiveness it held.

It was not just the words he had spoken, but the intensity behind them, the clear signal that he would tolerate no disrespect toward you. In a room full of lords and courtiers who often dismissed your voice, Jungkook’s sudden defense felt like a rare and precious show of loyalty. Uncommon as it was, it left a warmth spreading in your chest, a silent but deeply felt appreciation.

Jungkook still hadn’t met your eyes, his intense gaze fixed on the Maester, the disapproval and disgust etched in his expression radiating an aura so fierce, it was almost frightening. He stood there like a wall of steel, silently daring anyone to challenge him again.

You turned your attention back to the Maester, who now squirmed under the weight of the moment. His once confident, condescending exterior had crumbled, now sitting timidly in his seat.

“Celeste is the rightful heir,” you stated, your voice even and composed, though laced with quiet authority. “She will rule Driftmark, and she will do so just as well as any man ever could. Anyone who questions that,” you paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle over the room, “will regret it.”

The Maester lowered his head, unable to meet your gaze, his earlier arrogance completely shattered. “Of course, Your Grace. Please, forgive my words.”

Jungkook didn’t move an inch, his focus still locked onto the Maester like a hawk waiting for the slightest wrong move. The room felt smaller, the tension almost suffocating as the Maester’s earlier confidence reduced to a pitiful murmur.

“See that you don’t forget that again,” you said, your tone final and cold, leaving no room for further argument.

With that, you stood up from your seat, the weight of the moment still hanging heavy in the air. Without another word, you turned on your heel and made your way out of the courtroom, every step deliberate, your posture unyielding. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as you moved, a quiet power radiating from you that demanded respect.

Jungkook, as ever, was by your side in an instant, but he kept a respectful distance, just enough to remain a silent protector, his presence still like a shield around you. His footsteps were measured, the sound of his boots echoing softly in the corridors, and yet there was an undeniable sense of security in the space between you two. No words were exchanged as you made your way to your chamber — there was no need for them. His silent solidarity was all you required.

Jungkook’s presence was reassuring, like the calm after a storm, and it made the weight of leadership — of being Queen — just a little easier to bear.

After the heat of earlier’s events, the last thing you wanted was to step foot back into the chaos of the court. The weight of the Maester’s words still lingered in the air, and you felt the need to retreat, to recharge in the only place that felt truly like yours. So, you didn’t leave your chambers for the rest of the day. You took the rare opportunity to unwind, the need for solitude outweighing any further obligations for the day.

Without a second thought, you changed into your nightgown well before the moon rose, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to the tense weight of your court attire. You moved with practiced ease, the familiar ritual of shedding the day’s responsibilities easing the knots in your shoulders. 

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow that danced across the room. You sank into the couch, the cushions molding to your body as you settled in front of the flames. With a book in hand, you opened the pages, the words inviting you into another world — a world where you could forget, if only for a moment, the burdens of being Queen.

You lost yourself in the story, the flicker of the fire keeping time with the rhythm of your reading. Outside your window, the castle was quiet, the usual noise of the corridors muted by the sanctuary of your chamber. For the first time that day, you felt a sense of peace. The world outside could wait. Here, in the comfort of your own space, you could simply be.

But just as the fire’s soft, flickering glow began to lull you deeper into peace, a knock at the door broke the fragile silence, its sound sharp and intrusive. A flicker of annoyance stirred within you — someone daring to interrupt the quiet sanctuary of your evening. But then, a familiar voice, calm and steady, followed.

“Your Grace?”

It’s him.

You took a slow breath, the irritation melting away at the sound of his voice, and called softly, “Come in, Ser Jungkook.”

The door creaked open, but Jungkook didn’t immediately step inside. He stood just beyond the threshold, his tall frame framed by the dim light spilling from the hall, casting long shadows across the stone floor. There was something endearing in the way he paused there, as though uncertain, hesitating to cross the boundary of your private space without your explicit permission. His respect for the sanctity of your chambers was something rare, a simple act that made him stand out even more.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, like the evening air itself. “I’ve just come to alert you that the children are abed.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

What you didn’t know was that the children had been in bed for some time. Jungkook had only alerted you now because he was standing just outside your door, hesitating. He wasn’t sure if he should disturb your peace with the news. Still new to this role, he was uncertain of how to balance his duties with the delicate art of discretion.

“Thank you, Ser Jungkook,” you said, your tone warm with gratitude. “I would appreciate it if you informed me every night from now on.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Sleep well.” Jungkook gave a respectful nod, his voice as steady and sincere as ever, and he turned to leave.

“Ser Jungkook,” you called again, before he could close the door behind him.

He paused, hand resting lightly on the doorframe, his dark eyes meeting yours in the soft, flickering firelight. For a brief moment, the noise of the castle seemed to fall away, the crackling fire the only sound that filled the space between you. It was rare, these moments of true stillness, where it was just the two of you, no interruptions, no duties weighing on either of your shoulders. The warmth from the fire cast a soft glow over him, accentuating the quiet strength in his features.

For the first time, you found yourself truly looking at him — not just the protector of your children, not just the present knight, but Jungkook. 

“I’ve yet to thank you for earlier — in the Small Council chamber,” you said softly, your voice quiet but earnest. “I appreciate your defense. Thank you.”

The words hung between you for a moment, carrying a weight that felt heavier than it should. It wasn’t just the defense itself, though that was significant; it was the quiet way he had stood up for you. Jungkook had always been the silent one, always just there, standing in the background. But today, he had been more. He had spoken when no one else had. His simple act of defending you meant more than you could say.

Jungkook’s posture softened at your words, though his expression remained composed, his usual stoic demeanor intact. Yet, as he held your gaze, his dark eyes seemed to linger a moment longer than usual, a subtle warmth settling in his look that wasn’t often there. It was as though the space between you both had shifted, the heavy tension of the day dissolving into something quieter, almost comforting.

“It was nothing, Your Grace. You need not thank me,” he replied, his voice low and measured, though there was something beneath it — something genuine, almost vulnerable, that made the words feel different from his usual calm, detached responses. His eyes remained steady on yours, and for a moment, the usual distance between you seemed to shrink, as though he was offering something unspoken, something more than just a knight’s duty. “You shouldn’t have to endure that kind of disrespect. It’s my duty to protect you, in all ways.”

You gave a soft nod, absorbing the weight of his words. Jungkook was a constant in your life — a silent guardian who stood watch over both your children and yourself. But hearing him speak of protecting you in such a way, so plainly and honestly, stirred something within you. It wasn’t just your children that mattered to him; it was you, as well. 

“You do more than protect,” you said, your voice softer now, the weariness of the day gradually easing. “Your actions today… they meant more than you know.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched at the corners, acknowledging your words, but he didn’t respond right away. There was a brief silence between you both, the fire’s crackling embers filling the stillness as he shifted his weight, his stance still as rigid as ever, but now, a slight tension in his shoulders had eased.

“If there’s ever anything you need, Your Grace,” he said finally, his tone softer than it had been moments before, but with an underlying firmness that conveyed his commitment, “I am here.”

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around you like a quiet promise, steady and unwavering. The light of the fire caught on his features, casting soft shadows over his face, making his usually guarded expression seem less distant, more human. You felt a sense of peace settling into the space between you both, a momentary connection that felt more genuine than anything that had passed between you in the public eye.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, finding comfort in the rare, honest exchange.

Jungkook inclined his head once more, his expression softening in a way that was unusual for him — a small, but genuine smile curling his lips, the warmth of it making him seem more approachable, more... real.

“Goodnight, Your Grace,” he said quietly, voice full of respect, but also something else — something deeper.

“Goodnight, Ser Jungkook,” you murmured in return.

With that, he turned and moved to close the door behind him, the soft click of the latch signaling his departure. But as the door clicked shut, you realized that this time, you didn’t feel the usual solitude. There was something different. Something comforting. Something exciting that made the pit of your stomach feel funny, in knowing he was standing just outside your door.

Just the barrier of wood between you two.

The next day unfolded much more peacefully than the last. 

You sat on the floor of your chamber, the luxurious fabric of your gown pooling around you like a soft sea of silk. The quiet of the room was comforting as you focused on the delicate task in front of you — embroidering a blanket for Luna. Each stitch was a calming motion, your mind momentarily free of the weight of royal duties. 

You hadn’t seen Jungkook yet, but his presence lingered in your thoughts, like an unspoken promise. The anticipation of his arrival stirred a quiet excitement within you, though you had no idea when he might appear. 

The silence was broken by your husband's voice, cutting through the peaceful air as he entered without knocking, his tone casual. “How are you feeling today?”

You glanced up briefly, meeting his eyes before returning to your work. “Better,” you answered, the edges of your lips curving into a faint smile.

“Good,” Atticus replied, smirking as he made his way over to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. “Do you think you’ll be attending the Small Council today?”

You hesitated, the thought of sitting through another long, tedious session filling you with a quiet reluctance. “No… if that’s alright?” you replied, your tone tentative, not wanting to seem too dismissive of his suggestion.

“Of course,” Atticus said, lifting the goblet to his lips. His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he added, “But I’ll have you know, I’ve hired a new Maester.”

The words hit you like a spark, and without thinking, you put your needle down. The sudden shift in the conversation caught your attention fully. Your eyes locked onto him, eyebrows raised in surprise. The idea of a new Maester was unexpected — and it immediately piqued your curiosity.

"Are you upset about that?" you asked, your voice soft and laced with a hint of apology, eyes searching his face for any sign of how he truly felt.

Atticus paused, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. His lips curled into a knowing smirk, and he set the goblet down gently on the table. "I could never be upset with you for only standing up for yourself," he said, his voice steady, though there was an underlying heat to his words. "And someone as disrespectful as that will not continue to walk around in this castle."

His declaration was resolute, filled with a quiet determination. The confidence in his voice was not just from his position, but from a place of deep respect for you. It was as if he had taken the full weight of your frustration upon himself, and the fire behind his words showed that he would do whatever it took to ensure you never had to endure such treatment again. 

You smile warmly at his words. "Thank you, Atticus."

He pauses, a small smile tugging at his lips, his fingers tapping idly on the edge of the table. "You know, as much as I’m not in love with you," he says slowly, his tone more thoughtful than usual, "I still love you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, the raw honesty in his voice bringing a quiet comfort. It wasn't the passionate declaration of romance you might have hoped for, but it was the kind of love that ran deep — steady, consistent, unshakable. 

You meet his gaze, and your heart softens with understanding. "As do I," you reply, your voice gentle but genuine. 

It wasn’t the kind of love that others might expect, filled with grand gestures and whispered sweet nothings. But in its own way, it was a love that had stood the test of time. It isn’t passionate, but there’s a respect and understanding between the two of you that runs deep.

“Now,” Atticus says, his voice low, teasing. “Can we talk about your knight in shining armor?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smirk that tugs at your lips. “Oh Gods,” you say, the edge of amusement clear in your voice as you go back to your needlework.

“Oh, come on,” he whines, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “I let you pick, now you have to tell me all about him!”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “It was you who suggested I pick?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I thought you’d feel more content choosing someone yourself.”

“I do,” you reply with a small smile, returning to your embroidery. “It was a wise suggestion.”

“Oh, don’t change the subject now!” He motions with a dramatic hand. “What was that about yesterday?”

“He was just defending me,” you say, hoping to dismiss the conversation, though you’re well aware it won’t be that easy.

Atticus lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes in dramatic fashion. “No knight is that devoted to duty, my dear wife.”

His words make you pause, but you try not to let it show. Still, a smile begins to creep onto your lips, unbidden. You hadn’t really allowed yourself to think about it that way. Jungkook had always been quiet, loyal, reliable — but devoted in the way Atticus is hinting? It’s a thought that stirs something unexpected in you.

“Well, believe it or not,” you say, unable to stop the small grin now, “we’ve spoken to each other only a few times.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, clearly entertained. “Is that so? And yet, with little words between you, he’s ready to challenge a room full of lords for your honor. Fascinating.”

You roll your eyes, returning to your needlework in an attempt to focus, but your mind can’t help but drift back to Jungkook. The memory of his voice, steady and unyielding as he defended you, lingers. Maybe Atticus has a point, but admitting that would only fuel his relentless teasing.

“He’s just dutiful,” you insist, though even you can hear the uncertainty creeping into your voice. 

Atticus catches it too, and his smirk widens as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet. “Dutiful because he loves his duty? Or because of you?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, the warmth creeping up your neck as you try to brush off the insinuation. “You’re reading into this too much,” you mumble, focusing on the embroidery in your lap, though your needlework suddenly seems less interesting.

“Am I?” Atticus drawls, stepping closer, his tone playful but probing. “Did you solely choose him because of his skills?”

You glance up at him briefly, trying to suppress a smile. “Are you implying something?”

He shrugs, the smirk on his lips widening. “Well, did you?”

“I did!” you exclaim, the words tumbling out a little too quickly, as if you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. You glance up at Atticus, catching the amused gleam in his eyes. “He’s excellent with the children, and he strikes the perfect balance around here — intimidating enough to make it clear no one should challenge him, but not so much that the children are frightened. I trust him completely, and I’ve only known him a short while.”

Atticus hums, swirling the wine in his goblet with deliberate slowness before taking a sip, his skepticism apparent in the slight arch of his brow.

You shake your head, sighing lightly. “He’s proven his worth,” you say, trying to sound firm, though the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips betrays you. “It’s his abilities that matter.”

Atticus grins, thoroughly enjoying this exchange. “Of course, his abilities. And it’s just a coincidence that the knight you trust with our children’s safety also happens to be rather… easy on the eyes?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, though the warmth spreading through your chest betrays your amusement. “His appearance has nothing to do with why I chose him,” you insist, though your tone has lost its edge, becoming playful and light. “He’s capable, loyal, and vigilant. His looks are irrelevant.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. “Irrelevant, but not unnoticed?”

You shoot him a mock glare, though the smile tugging at your lips makes it hard to maintain any seriousness. “You’re impossible,” you say with a shake of your head. “I care about his skills and nothing more.”

Atticus chuckles softly, clearly entertained. “We shall see,” he teases, his voice lingering in the air as he begins to make his exit. His steps are slow, unhurried, as though he’s savoring the moment. 

He walks out with a lightness in his stride, and the faint echo of his laughter trails behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts — and the quiet, unsettling realization that maybe, just maybe, his words weren’t entirely off the mark.

Returning to the Small Council felt different this time. The atmosphere had shifted. The men were more considerate, actually taking your opinions into account — a stark contrast to their usual dismissiveness. It seemed Atticus’ harsh punishment of the last Maester had sent a clear message: disrespect would no longer be tolerated. They were treading carefully now, not wanting to find themselves in a similar predicament.

You exhaled a long breath as you walked into your chamber, ready to unwind after the tense day. Removing your jewelry, you placed each piece delicately on the table, the soft clink of metal filling the otherwise quiet room. You went to bend down to slip off your shoes, eager for the relief of the cool floor beneath your feet.

But before you could, a sharp point suddenly pressed against your neck.

You froze.

Panic surged through you as the cold blade pressed harder against your skin, the world around you narrowing to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“Don’t scream,” a low voice hissed in your ear, breath hot against your skin, “or you will die.”

Your breath hitched, the threat sinking in, terror flooding your veins. Tears welled in your eyes as helplessness gripped you. You had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly at the mercy of another.

The man spun you around with a jerk, and your gaze landed on another figure lurking in the shadows — both were dressed in the rough, dirt stained garb of rat catchers, but their eyes gleamed with intent far darker than pest control.

“We were paid to kill the little girl,” the man growled, his eyes boring into yours with malicious purpose. “The one who is set to inherit Driftmark. Where is she?”

Your heart stopped. They wanted Celeste. Your daughter. 

Desperation clawed at your insides, but you forced yourself to remain calm, though your voice trembled as you spoke. “I have many things in here of great value,” you said, your mind racing to stall, to buy any time you could. “You can take whatever you want. Jewelry, gold…”

The man sneered, pressing the blade just a fraction closer, enough to make your skin prickle with fear. “We’re not here for trinkets,” he spat. “We’re here for the girl.”

The suffocating pressure eased as the man shoved you away, though he kept his dagger trained on you, its sharp point a constant threat.

“Lead us to her,” he snarled, “and you will live.”

Your pulse quickened, panic rising. But amid the terror, you clung to one thought: Jungkook was just outside, standing guard by the children’s room. He would protect Celeste.

Heart pounding, you forced your legs to move, stepping cautiously toward the door of your chamber. The rat catchers followed closely, one of them pressing the dagger against your back, a constant reminder of the danger lurking just inches away.

By the time you reached the door, your eyes caught a glimpse of movement. Jungkook — his back against the wood, waiting, ready. His gaze met yours, and in that brief moment, you felt a surge of relief, but it was fleeting.

Before you could react, Jungkook sprang into action. In a heartbeat, he grabbed your arm and yanked you behind him, shielding you with his body. You stumbled backward, watching in awe as he unsheathed his sword with deadly precision. 

Jungkook wasted no time. His blade sank deep into the stomach of the first rat catcher, a sickening thud echoing in the hallway. The man gasped, blood spurting from the wound, and crumpled to the floor.

The second assailant, wild with desperation, swung his dagger wildly at Jungkook. But Jungkook moved with lethal grace, dodging each strike effortlessly. His movements were swift, controlled, each step calculated. In one fluid motion, he caught the man's wrist mid swing, twisting it with a force that made the man cry out in pain. Jungkook’s grip tightened, and with a brutal efficiency, he forced the attacker to plunge the dagger into his own abdomen.

The man’s eyes widened in shock, the weapon lodged deep within him, his strength faltering. Jungkook released him, and the second rat catcher staggered before collapsing to the ground beside his companion, both of them now lying in pools of their own blood.

In shock, you stood frozen, tears welling in your eyes as the reality of the moment crashed over you. Only a minute ago, you had feared for your life, for your family’s lives. And now, Jungkook had effortlessly put an end to the rat catchers, his blade on the ground still stained with their blood. It all felt too surreal, too close.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Jungkook rushed to you, his expression softening with concern. He cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch grounding you. “Your Grace? Are you hurt?” His voice was low but urgent, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury.

You shook your head, still unable to find your voice, too overwhelmed by everything. Your heart pounded, your throat tight as you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispered, his thumbs brushing tenderly across your cheeks. “Everything’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. The fear, the relief, the gratitude — they all hit you at once, overwhelming your senses. And before you knew it, your emotions spilled over. You erupted into sobs, throwing your arms around Jungkook’s neck, seeking the warmth and safety of his presence. You buried your face into his skin, your tears dripping onto his armor as you cried.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate for a second. His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him, his strength and warmth offering the comfort you so desperately needed. One of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your back while the other cradled your head, pressing you gently against his chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong, was the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the chaos of your emotions.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soft and calming. “You’re safe now.”

And in that moment, in his arms, you believed him.

After Atticus learned about the rat catchers’ attack, his fury was swift and intense, shaking the very walls of the Red Keep. His voice thundered from the Small Council chamber, echoing through the halls as he took command of the situation. His anger wasn’t just justified — it was terrifying. No one dared stand in his way as he set out to make sure something like this could never happen again.

You sat in your children’s room, seeking comfort in their innocent presence. Even as you tried to calm your racing heart, the distant roar of Atticus’s orders only heightened the gravity of what had nearly occurred. He wasted no time doubling the guard, placing knights at every vulnerable corner of the Keep. The added protection was meant to reassure, but for you, it only underscored the severity of the danger that had almost taken your daughter.

Atticus was relentless in his pursuit of justice. He immediately dispatched his men to find out who had hired the rat catchers. It wasn’t long before the truth came out — your former Maester hadn’t been acting alone. There were more, many more, who shared his poisonous view that Celeste, your little girl, had no right to inherit Driftmark. These men, clinging to their outdated belief that only a man should rule, had conspired to end her life before she could ever sit upon the Driftwood Throne.

Those who were caught speaking against Celeste’s claim were dealt with harshly. Atticus showed no mercy. He threw them in the dungeons without a second thought, ensuring that any who dared oppose your daughter’s future would be silenced. In this, he was steadfast, and you were grateful for his fierce protection of your family.

But even with the threat supposedly contained, the fear hadn’t left you. That night still clung to you like a dark shadow, creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. The memory of those men — of their knives and their cruel threats — replayed in your mind every night, a loop you couldn’t break free from. 

Sleep was becoming harder to find. You would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the attack pressing down on your chest. Even with Jungkook stationed just outside your door, standing as your silent guardian, the sense of unease never fully faded. You trusted him more than anyone now, knowing he had saved you without hesitation, but your mind couldn’t silence the what ifs. What if something happened to him? What if the guards missed something? What if they came back?

Tonight was no different. The room was quiet, your children safe in their beds, but your thoughts raced. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind outside felt like a reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. You sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to calm the storm within. 

Jungkook was right outside the door — so close, and yet, the fear lingered. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but that night had changed everything. The vulnerability, the terror, had been too real, and you couldn’t just forget it. Even though the Red Keep was locked down, even though Atticus had done everything in his power to keep you safe, you were haunted by the thought that danger still lurked just out of sight.

You couldn’t sleep. The quiet room, the stillness, your own thoughts circling endlessly — it was too much. You knew that tonight, like so many others, you’d be awake until the sun rose. So, with a sigh, you slipped out of bed, crossed the room, and quietly opened the door.

And there he was.

Jungkook stood just outside, his back to you, ever vigilant. When the door creaked softly, he turned, eyes meeting yours. In the faint light of the moon, his features were softened, yet his gaze was alert, concerned. The gleam in his eyes caught the moonlight, and for just a moment, the comfort of his presence made the world feel a little less daunting.

“Your Grace?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I thought you’d be abed by now.”

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice quiet but laden with the weight of sleepless nights and endless worry.

“You’re safe now,” he said gently, his tone firm yet soothing, as if trying to will your mind to find peace. “Allow yourself to rest.”

You managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You said you’d be here if I ever needed anything.”

His brows furrowed slightly as he nodded, understanding your unspoken request. “I did.”

You hesitated only briefly before speaking again, your voice softer now. “Can you come in?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he straightened. “Your Grace, I hardly think that is appropriate,” he replied, though his tone was more uncertain than firm. His sense of duty and propriety clashed visibly with his desire to help you.

“It will comfort me,” you said, the vulnerability in your voice enough to make him falter.

He hesitated, clearly torn. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword as if it could ground him in the face of your request. His loyalty to you was absolute, but the boundaries of it were something he grappled with now.

Seeing his hesitation, you added, teasing softly, “Your Queen demands you.”

That earned you a small smile, one that softened the tension in the air. Jungkook shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he conceded. “Well, who am I to deny my Queen?” he said, stepping past the threshold.

As Jungkook entered the room, his mere presence brought with it a sense of security you hadn’t even realized you’d been yearning for. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of concern and quiet understanding, as you led him over to the couch by the fireplace. 

You settled yourself on one side, pulling a blanket over your legs as you crossed them beneath its warmth. When you glanced up, you noticed he hadn’t joined you yet. Instead, he stood a little distance away, unsure, his posture stiff as if still on duty.

“Sit,” you gestured to the empty space beside you.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to the door as if he still wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do. But your gentle command was enough to sway him. With a slight nod, he moved closer, his heavy footsteps softening as he reached the couch. Just as he was about to sit, you spoke again, your voice quiet but firm.

“Take off your armor.”

He froze, eyes wide as if caught off guard by your request. “Your Grace,” he said slowly, his tone almost a warning, a reminder of the boundary he believed needed to remain in place.

But you shook your head, your expression soft but insistent. “I don’t want you here as Ser Jungkook,” you explained, your voice carrying a vulnerability you hadn’t meant to reveal. “I want you here just as Jungkook.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, clearly torn between his sense of duty and the comfort you were asking for. But then, with a slow exhale, he began to unfasten the clasps of his armor, the metallic clinks filling the otherwise quiet room. Piece by piece, the weight of it fell away, and he set it aside, each movement careful and deliberate.

Jungkook looked at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips as he gestured to his cloak. "If you would," he said softly, his eyes warm but with a hint of playful mischief.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a bit lighter as you stood from the couch, the blanket slipping from your lap and pooling onto the floor. Your fingers brushed against his as you reached for the clasp of his cloak, feeling the cool metal as you carefully undid it. The fabric was thick and heavy, and as you pulled it off his shoulders, it seemed to take with it some of the invisible barrier he kept between you both.

The air between you felt different now, more intimate, as you set his cloak aside with the rest of his armor. When you turned back to face him, he was watching you closely, his expression softer than before, as if seeing you in a new light.

For a second, you just stood there, gazing at each other in the soft glow of the fire.

Now, without the weight of his armor, Jungkook looked more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, though there was still a quiet alertness in his posture. When you invited him to sit, he did so without hesitation this time, his expression softening as he settled next to you on the couch.

As the fire crackled gently beside you, casting a warm glow over the room, you found yourself seeing him differently. Here, sitting in your chambers, with the walls of duty momentarily lowered, Jungkook wasn’t just your knight anymore. He was a man — kind, steady, and unexpectedly gentle in his presence.

“I’ve not been able to sleep as of late,” you admitted, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you intended. “But with you here... I feel safe.”

Jungkook’s smile was soft, a flicker of warmth that reached his eyes. “I’m happy to hear that,” he said, though his voice was still laced with the respectful formality he always carried. “Your Grace.”

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke your name, more firmly this time. “Use my name. The formalities can stay with your armor… Jungkook.”

The moment hung between you, quiet but significant. When he repeated your name, his voice was different, softer, almost intimate. It felt personal, as if you were the only thing that mattered in this room, in this moment.

Your heart fluttered hearing your name on his lips. The way he said it felt more intimate than you’d expected, and as the quiet settled around you both, you realized the walls between you were coming down even more.

“My mother died when I was four and ten,” Jungkook begins, his voice steady but carrying the weight of years of grief. “She was murdered right in front of me. I was weak, untrained... I couldn’t help her. I just stood there, frozen, and I couldn’t save her.” He pauses, his gaze distant, lost in the painful memory. “When I left the children’s chamber to go guard yours and I saw those rat catchers in there… I knew I couldn’t let you down like I did my mother. I couldn’t let that happen again.”

Your heart clenches and your brows knit in sorrow, completely torn by his story. His words hang heavy in the air, the realization of his past weighing on your chest. You feel both gratitude and guilt — glad that Jungkook trusts you enough to open up, yet heartbroken by the trauma he’s lived through.

It suddenly makes sense — why he’s always so guarded, so precise, so fiercely loyal. You understand now why he was trained in combat at such a young age, why he’s so vigilant, and why he holds himself to such a high standard. His devotion to you, his protection of your family, it all stems from a promise he made to himself long ago, a promise born from tragedy.

You reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm resting on the back of the couch, your touch warm and comforting. Jungkook’s gaze flickers to where your hand rests on his arm, and then back to your face, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“You’ve done well to uphold that promise,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. As your eyes meet his, you offer him a genuine smile, hoping it conveys the compassion you feel. “Your mother would love the man you’ve grown to be, Jungkook.”

For a brief moment, Jungkook’s eyes soften, his usual stoic expression breaking. He looks almost vulnerable, as if the weight he carries is shared, if only for a second.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I find myself very… protective over you.”

You tilt your head slightly, a teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips. The soft glow of the fire casts a warm light over your face, and your eyes seem to shimmer with curiosity. “Why is that?” you ask, a playful lilt to your tone as you watch him.

Jungkook hesitates for a beat, his dark eyes holding yours. He slowly pulls his arm away, the loss of contact leaving your skin colder than you expected. But before you can fully miss the warmth, you feel the feather light touch of his fingertips brushing down your arm. His touch is slow, deliberate, sending a tingling sensation across your skin, awakening something inside you.

Your breath catches as his fingers trail lower, the gentle path they take igniting a flutter in your chest. When his hand finally finds yours, his touch is warm and firm, his fingers lacing with yours like it was meant to be all along.

Jungkook looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over the back of your hand as if testing the waters. “It’s more than duty now,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with something deeper. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability there, something raw and unguarded. “I can’t explain it fully, but… it’s like you’ve become more than just someone I’m sworn to protect.”

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for a reaction, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you — curiosity, anticipation, and something that feels dangerously close to longing.

Your lips part slightly, your heart hammering in your chest as the room feels smaller, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. “More than duty?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten just a little around yours, grounding you in the moment. His eyes soften, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes… much more than duty,” he says, his voice tender yet filled with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but all you can focus on is him — on the warmth of his hand, the depth in his gaze, and the way the space between you seems to shrink with each passing second.

With his fingers still interlaced with yours, Jungkook gently pulls you closer. The sudden shift brings you nearer to him, and you let out a soft giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as you blush under his gaze. The warmth of his body, the way his eyes are fixed on you — it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

As the distance between you vanishes, your breath catches when you realize his gaze is locked on your lips. It’s intense, and it makes your heart race. You watch, spellbound, as he lifts his other hand slowly. His thumb brushes tenderly across your bottom lip, the pad of his finger soft against your skin. The simple, teasing touch sends a wave of warmth washing over you.

He lingers there for a moment, rubbing your lip, and then his thumb presses just a little more insistently, grazing the slit of your mouth as though silently asking for permission. The unspoken question in his eyes makes your pulse quicken, and you instinctively part your lips in response. His thumb slips inside, and you close your mouth gently around it, letting him in.

Your eyes remain on him as his thumb rests against your tongue, the sensation both intimate and electrifying. The fire crackles in the background, but the world feels muted, like it’s just you and him in this moment. Your heart pounds, and the connection between you grows stronger as you suck lightly on his digit.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes slightly uneven as he watches you, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more primal. He gently withdraws his thumb, his fingers now tracing the curve of your jaw, his touch both firm and tender. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

The air between you is thick with anticipation, the moment heavy with the promise of what’s to come. His forehead rests against yours, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop.

“We should stop before things go further,” Jungkook whispers, his voice low and husky, the warmth of his breath tickling your lips as he gives you the chance to pull away.

You pause, your heart racing in your chest. “We should,” you whisper back, the words lingering in the air between you both.

But neither of you move.

Instead, your gaze remains locked on his, and you can feel the heat radiating between you, the unspoken desire that lingers in the small space that still separates you.

And just like that, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is electric, his lips soft yet insistent as they press against yours. It’s slow at first, a tentative exploration, but the moment your mouths meet, everything else fades into the background.

As your lips remain locked with his, you straddle his lap, the movement seamless and natural, as if you’ve both been leading up to this moment for far too long. Your hands slide behind his head, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss grows more heated, more desperate.

Jungkook’s hands find your waist, gripping you firmly, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips as you press yourself against him, your hips moving instinctively. A soft gasp escapes your lips when you feel the hardness beneath you, his cock straining against the fabric of his breeches, the friction making you yearn for more.

Your hips begin to buck slowly, grinding against him as you search for more contact, more release. The heat between you two is palpable now, your breath mingling with his as the kiss deepens, tongues tangling in a rhythm that matches the slow, steady roll of your hips. Every shift of your body sends a wave of pleasure through you, and you can feel his grip tighten on your waist, his breathing growing heavier.

Jungkook lets out a low groan against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, igniting something primal. You can feel the restraint he’s holding onto, the tension in his body as he struggles to keep control, but the way his hands grip your waist tells you he’s just as lost in the moment as you are.

The friction between you both builds, the heat intensifying, but the layers of fabric between you only heighten the desire, making you ache for more.

“Perhaps I should thank you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and teasing as your hips roll against him, causing a deep groan to escape from Jungkook’s throat. You can feel him hardening beneath you, his body responding despite his attempts to maintain composure. “For your service…”

His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your sides just enough to make you feel how much he’s holding back. “It is only my mere duty,” he says, voice strained, each word laced with barely controlled desire.

You smile at his restraint, your lips moving to brush against the sharp line of his jaw. “You’ve done so much,” you murmur, your lips trailing lower, leaving a warm path down his neck, just beneath his jaw. His skin is soft and warm, and his pulse races beneath your touch. You hear his breath catch as you kiss along his collarbone, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate press of your lips. “For me…” You move lower, your kisses more intentional, feeling his chest rise and fall more rapidly under your touch. “For my children…”

His hands twitch on your hips, torn between pulling you closer and letting you continue your slow, torturous descent. When you glance up at him, you see the way his dark eyes watch your every movement, clouded with need, a silent plea for more even as he struggles to keep himself grounded.

"I think you deserve a reward," you whisper, your voice sultry, teasing as your lips hover just above the edge of his tunic. Your fingers slowly, deliberately trace the hem, brushing against his heated skin as you make him wait, drawing out the anticipation.

Jungkook's head falls back, his lips parted as he releases a shaky breath, his control slipping with every passing second. His voice is a low growl, thick with longing. “You owe me nothing,”

You shake your head softly, your lips grazing the exposed skin of his chest. “I owe you everything,” you whisper back, your voice filled with sincerity and seduction, the intensity of the moment building as your hand moves lower, testing the boundaries of his restraint.

His body tenses beneath your touch, but his hands stay firm on your hips, holding you against him as if he’s afraid to let go. His eyes meet yours again, dark and full of raw emotion, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “I am yours,” he breathes, and in that moment, you know that he means every word.

With a soft smile playing on your lips, you slowly lift yourself off his lap, feeling the tension in the air as you lower yourself to the ground, kneeling between his legs. Jungkook watches you closely, his breathing uneven, eyes darkened with a mix of anticipation and restraint.

You place your hands gently on his thighs, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric of his breeches, his muscles tense beneath your touch. You start slow, allowing the moment to settle between you, your fingers tracing soft, deliberate circles along his thighs, teasing without rushing. Jungkook’s breath hitches slightly, his gaze locked on your every movement, as if entranced by the sight of you at his feet.

With a deliberate slowness, you begin to untie the laces of his breeches, savoring the quiet rustling of fabric as you pull them off completely, your fingertips brushing against his skin, making him shiver. You take your time, your eyes never leaving his, a playful gleam in your gaze as you watch his resolve crumble little by little.

His cock springs free, finally released from its tight confines. Jungkook lets out a low groan, the sudden release of tension sending a wave of relief through him. The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your breath catch, but you don’t rush. Instead, you rest your hands on his thighs again, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin, feeling the subtle flex of his muscles beneath your palms.

You glance up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sends a thrill down your spine. His lips are parted, his breath heavy, and you can see the restraint in the way he grips the couch, knuckles white, fighting the urge to take control.

You spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock, feeling its warmth and weight resting in your palm. You start slow, allowing him to adjust to the sensation, your fingers curling around him with a firm but careful grip. As your hand begins to move, sliding up and down in deliberate, teasing strokes, Jungkook's head falls back against the couch. A low, breathy moan escapes his parted lips, his chest rising and falling more heavily with each breath, betraying his struggle to hold onto his composure under your touch. His muscles tense, eyes fluttering shut, as the pleasure builds with each movement.

His reaction fuels you, and you keep your pace slow and sensual, your hand gliding smoothly along his length. Each movement draws another sound from him — whether it’s a quiet sigh, a deep groan, or the way his breathing catches for a split second. The power you hold in this moment, the way his body responds to your touch, makes the air between you feel electric, alive with tension.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into the cushions beside him, as if holding on for control, but you can see the way his restraint is unraveling, bit by bit. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parted in silent bliss, eyes closed as he surrenders to the sensation.

With a mischievous smile, you tighten your grip just a little, adding the slightest bit more pressure as you continue to stroke him, and his moan deepens, sending a shiver through you.

You lean in, teasingly slow, letting the anticipation build. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he watches you, his chest rising and falling faster, his hands tightening into fists. The moment your tongue makes contact with the tip of his cock, his body tenses. You start with soft, delicate kitten licks, testing his sensitivity, letting him feel every light flick of your tongue as you work.

A bead of precum gathers at the tip, and you lap it up, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. Jungkook’s groan is deep, almost guttural, his head tipping back against the couch once more as you tease him with your soft licks, never giving him more than just a taste of what’s to come.

The way he reacts, the way his body trembles under your touch, only spurs you on. You take your time, savoring the control you have over him, feeling the way his thighs tense beneath your hands.

You glance up at him through your lashes, enjoying the sight of Jungkook completely lost in the moment, his lips parted, breath heavy. His reaction fuels your desire to tease him more. Your tongue moves slowly, deliberately, swirling around his sensitive tip, while your hand continues its steady rhythm, pumping him with just enough pressure to keep him on edge.

He moans again, low and deep, his hips instinctively bucking up, searching for more of that friction you’re so teasingly withholding. You hum softly, the vibrations making his cock twitch against your tongue. You take him a little deeper, wrapping your lips around the head, sucking gently as you let your hand pump the base, building the tension.

Jungkook’s hands grip the couch tightly, fighting to stay still, his body betraying him with every small thrust of his hips. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, your tongue working against the underside of his shaft as you slide him further into your mouth. His response is immediate — his body jerks, a strangled groan escapes him, and you feel his hands twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to reach out and grab you.

You reach up and intertwine your fingers with his, and in that simple gesture, a new layer of intimacy blooms between you. His grip is firm, almost desperate, as if holding your hand is the one thing grounding him in the intensity of the moment. It's no longer just about desire; it's something deeper, more vulnerable, a connection that transcends the physical. His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, a soft, tender contrast to the raw passion swirling around you. That small touch, full of unspoken emotion, speaks louder than words ever could, reminding you both that this is more than just a fleeting moment — it’s a quiet, shared promise.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes even more ragged as you continue to take him deeper, your lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to push him closer to the edge. You can feel his restraint, the way he’s holding back, trying to stay in control despite the pleasure coursing through him.

He groans, your name slipping from his lips in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You hum softly in response, the vibrations causing another moan to escape his lips. The combination of his hand in yours, his soft gasps, and the warmth of his skin beneath your touch creates an almost overwhelming sense of connection.

You pull off him with a soft, wet pop, leaving his cock glistening in the firelight. Your lips curve into a teasing smile as you drag your tongue slowly along the length of his shaft, watching his reaction. Jungkook’s breath catches, his body tensing with anticipation. When you reach his base, you let your tongue dip lower, tracing a path to his balls. You take your time, licking and teasing the sensitive skin before gently sucking them into your mouth.

The reaction is immediate — his hips jerk up involuntarily, a deep moan escaping him as his head falls back against the couch. His knuckles are white as he grips the cushions, and his fingers tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment. You keep your eyes on him, enjoying the way his face contorts with pleasure, his lips parting with a shuddering breath.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice rough and strained, the sound vibrating through the air, sending a thrill through you. His chest rises and falls heavily as you continue to pump his cock in your hand, your strokes slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm of your mouth as you suck gently on his balls.

You can feel the tension building in him, his body trembling slightly under your touch. His muscles are taut, straining as he tries to hold himself back, but you know he’s close. The soft, breathless curses he murmurs between groans let you know just how much you're driving him to the edge.

Jungkook’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more intoxicating than the last. The feel of your mouth wrapped around his cock is overwhelming, your lips warm and slick as they glide over him, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. But what makes his pulse race even more is the sight of you — the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms — on your knees before him, your eyes dark with desire, lips wet and swollen as you take him deeper.

He can barely process it. A part of him feels like he’s lost in a dream, but the grip of your hand on his thigh, the soft, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat of your mouth around him all ground him in reality. His fingers tighten around yours, the intimacy of your entwined hands a stark contrast to the lust coursing through him.

He can’t stop thinking about how utterly beautiful you look, your regal composure gone, replaced by raw want. It’s sinful, how he can feel his cock throbbing in your mouth while your crown sits not too far away, a reminder of who you are — his Queen. And yet, here you are, on your knees, giving yourself to him so completely.

And then there’s the thought of what comes next. His cock twitches at the idea of getting you beneath him, of spreading your legs wide and burying himself in your warmth. He’s desperate to feel you around him, to watch your face twist with pleasure as he takes you, over and over again.

But even with all those thoughts swirling in his mind, one thing keeps echoing louder than the rest: the sheer power of this moment. The Queen, on her knees, sucking his cock like she’s wanted this as much as he has.

The thought sends another wave of heat through his body. He’s barely holding on, every moan, every stroke of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, more ragged, his hips beginning to move on their own, thrusting gently into your mouth. 

Before Jungkook can take control, you pull back, rising from the ground and denying him the release he craves with a teasing smile. His frustrated groan fuels your confidence as you straddle him again, your knees resting on either side of his hips. Your fingers intertwine with his, and you guide both of his hands behind his head, locking your arms around his neck. His arms cross behind him, muscles flexing as he fights to keep himself in check.

The intensity in his eyes is undeniable — burning with desire, frustration, and the raw need to touch you, yet restrained by the control you've taken. Every part of him is taut, his body tense beneath you, waiting, aching for your next move. His gaze never wavers, fixed on you with an almost desperate longing, as if the anticipation alone could undo him.

You lean in slowly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, then another on his cheek, your breath brushing his skin. His chest rises and falls against yours, the heat between you both building to a near unbearable height. Then, lips grazing his ear, you whisper in a low, sultry voice, “I want you to fuck me the way a Queen should be fucked.”

Your words send a shudder through him, his body reacting instantly to your challenge. The restraint he’s been holding onto falters, his breathing turning ragged, his grip tightening slightly on your hands. The dominance of your demand ignites something primal in him, the heat in his gaze searing into you.

"Your Grace..." Jungkook murmurs, his voice deep and breathless, the title slipping out before he can stop it, laced with a mix of reverence and raw, uncontained desire. The slip into formality catches him off guard, as if he’s forgotten to leave the titles behind along with his armor. His jaw clenches, the tension in his body palpable as his control begins to fray at the edges. His eyes burn into yours, dark and hungry, as if your very presence has set him ablaze, and now, all he can do is watch helplessly as the flames consume him.

You feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, and you smirk, rolling your hips against him, letting the friction drive him further into madness. “Are you going to make me wait, or must I command you again?”

That’s all it takes. His resolve snaps. With a low, feral growl, Jungkook releases your hands and grabs you by the thighs, lifting you effortlessly in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised giggle, heart racing at how easily he’s carrying you across the room. His strength, his commanding presence — it’s intoxicating, making your body heat with anticipation.

With a mischievous grin, he throws you down onto the bed, your body bouncing softly against the mattress. Jungkook is on you in an instant, crawling over you with a predatory grace, his body looming above yours, eyes dark and filled with intent. His hands press into the mattress on either side of you, caging you beneath him. The weight of him, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, has your breath catching in your throat.

His lips hover just inches from yours, teasing, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “I’ll show you exactly how my Queen should be fucked.”

There’s a rough edge to his voice now, one that sends shivers down your spine. His hands trail down your sides, fingers curling around the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you beneath him, his gaze smoldering as he drinks in every inch of your bare skin.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Jungkook’s lips descend to your neck, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your throat, your collarbone, and lower still, as his hands grip your hips, holding you firmly in place. His touch is everywhere — greedy, relentless — stoking the fire that’s been building between you all night.

As his mouth moves lower, a soft moan escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward him, craving more. And just when you think you can’t take any more teasing, he pulls back, hovering above you once more, eyes dark with lust and promise.

Jungkook pulls off his tunic, standing before you, fully bare. His gaze is unwavering, filled with awe and raw desire as he drinks in the sight of you, every inch of your body drawing him in with quiet reverence. The heat of his stare is palpable, his lips parting slightly as his eyes travel from your breasts down to your stomach, pausing at the faint stretch marks left behind by your children. 

There’s no shame in his gaze, only admiration — those marks are a testament to your strength, the life you’ve brought into the world. His hand reaches out, hesitating for just a second before brushing over your skin, tracing the delicate lines with his fingertips, as if memorizing every detail. His touch is tender, contrasting the heat in his eyes, and the reverence in his expression makes your heart swell. 

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice hushed but filled with sincerity, almost as though he's speaking to himself. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell. There’s no hesitation in his gaze, no second thoughts — just pure admiration.

You can’t help but smile. Despite being nearly bare beneath him, you don’t feel vulnerable. You feel cherished, worshipped even, as if this wasn’t the first time he’s seen you like this. There’s a sense of ease between you, as if his presence was always meant to be like this — intimate and without fear. 

Jungkook leans in closer, his lips trailing down to your hip bone, placing a soft, lingering kiss there. The sensation is both grounding and electrifying, sending a shiver through your body. You glance down, meeting his gaze — intense and burning with desire, the kind of look that makes your heart race and your breath falter. In that moment, you can feel the fire behind his eyes, as if the world has fallen away and you're the only thing that matters.

Without breaking the connection, he lowers himself further, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The kiss is soft, reverent, but full of promise, inching closer to the place where you crave his touch the most. Your breath catches in your throat, anticipation thick in the air, when he finally leans forward and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your pussy through your soaking wet underwear.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sudden contact, and instinctively, you lift your leg, gently pressing your foot against his shoulder to stop him from going further. His eyes flash with surprise, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in them as he looks up at you, waiting for your command.

“Maybe another time,” you murmur, your voice breathless but firm. “I want your cock.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation, and Jungkook’s expression shifts, darkening with pure lust. He gives a low growl of approval, his hands gripping your thighs a little tighter as he quickly moves back up your body.

Jungkook wastes no time, his hands quick but careful as he pulls off your last piece of clothing and positions himself between your legs. His cock, already hard and slick with anticipation, brushes against your entrance, the warmth of him sending a ripple of electricity through your body. You can feel the tension in his muscles, every inch of him taut with restraint as he fights the urge to simply take you. He wants this moment to be more than just a rush of desire.

With a slow, deliberate nudge of his hips, he presses the tip of his cock against your core, the sensation both tantalizing and overwhelming. Your body reacts immediately, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he teases your entrance, the heat between you intensifying. His eyes are locked on yours, as if he’s savoring every second before fully sinking into you. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer, urging him to give you exactly what you’ve been yearning for. His lips crash onto yours in a heated kiss, the moment charged with raw, unspoken passion as he finally pushes into you.

“Oh Gods,” you moan, your back arching off the bed as the sudden stretch overwhelms you. Jungkook fills you completely, every inch of him pressing into you, making your breath hitch as your body adjusts to the delicious pressure. His movements slow for a moment, letting you feel every bit of him, the weight of his body grounding you as the heat between your legs spreads throughout your entire body.

Jungkook’s forehead drops to yours, his breathing ragged as he holds himself still, giving you a moment to adjust. "You feel so perfect," he groans, his voice thick with restraint. His hands roam your body, gripping your hips as though he needs to hold onto something to keep himself from losing control completely.

Your fingers slide up his back, nails grazing his skin as you tug him closer, desperate for more. "Move," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I need you."

That’s all it takes.

With a low growl, Jungkook begins to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the sensation sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Each movement is deliberate, deep, and measured. Your moans mix with his breathless grunts, filling the room with the sounds of your shared desire.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His pace quickens, and soon, he’s moving faster, harder, the rhythm building as the pleasure between you grows. Each thrust drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder, more desperate as you cling to him, completely lost in the moment. 

Jungkook’s lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your skin between ragged breaths. “You feel so good… so fucking good,” he pants, his hips snapping against yours with growing urgency. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, your body responding to his with a need that’s been simmering for so long, now finally unleashed. "Don’t stop," you moan, your voice shaky as the heat within you builds to a breaking point. 

Jungkook’s thrusts become erratic, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t think I can stop," he chuckles, his words sending a shiver through you just as the first waves of release begin to crash over you. 

You kiss him eagerly, teeth grazing his bottom lip before tugging at it playfully. Jungkook groans into your mouth, his hips stuttering for a moment at the sensation. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more heated as your hands pull him closer, your nails digging into his back.

He responds in kind, his lips crashing back onto yours, the intensity of his kiss matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He bites gently on your bottom lip in return, making you gasp into his mouth, your bodies completely in sync as the pleasure mounts between you.

Your kiss is a frenzy of passion, tongues dancing, breaths mingling, as every movement pulls you closer to the edge. You tug harder at his lip, and he growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips and sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins.

Jungkook’s pace becomes relentless, his control slipping as he loses himself in you. “The day of the Kingsguard posting,” he starts breathlessly, his voice low and rough as he thrusts into you. “When you walked onto the balcony… I saw you. Thought you were so pretty. So, so pretty.”

His words, spoken between ragged breaths, send a shiver down your spine, making you arch closer into him. You gasp, your hands clutching onto his shoulders as his confession wraps around you like a heated secret. The intensity in his eyes as he speaks, as he moves inside you, is overwhelming — his vulnerability laid bare, a part of himself he’s never shared with anyone else.

“I shouldn’t have thought it,” he continues, his voice thick with desire and restraint as his pace quickens, “but I couldn’t help it. I wanted you from that moment.”

You feel your heart pound in your chest, not just from the pleasure but from his raw honesty. Your lips part, but no words come out, only breathless moans as he pushes you closer to the edge. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips brushing your ear.

“I never thought I’d have you like this,” he whispers, his voice rough with awe and hunger, each word laced with the weight of unspoken desire. “But now that I do… I’m never letting go.”

His confession wraps around you, sending a shiver through your body as his movements become more intense. The passion in his eyes, the way his body presses into yours, has you spiraling, lost in the heat between you.

You raise a trembling hand, gently brushing his hair back, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “I’m yours,” you breathe, the words slipping from your lips like a vow.

The way his eyes darken, the way his grip tightens on you, tells you he’s heard it loud and clear. And in this moment, you know he’ll hold onto that promise as tightly as he holds onto you.

He laughs out a moan at this. His pace quickens, his thrusts deeper, harder, each one sending you spiraling further. Your moans mix with his, filling the room, the sound of skin against skin only adding to the fire between you. His hands roam your body, memorizing every curve, every inch of you like it’s the last time.

“I’m so close,” he whispers, his voice strained, his body trembling as he fights for control. His forehead presses against yours again, his eyes searching yours, desperate, as if he’s asking for permission to lose himself in you.

You nod, your own release building, teetering on the edge. “Cum with me,” you breathe, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

With a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you feel Jungkook’s body tense as he releases into you, a low groan escaping his lips. The sensation triggers your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing through you as your body tightens around him. You gasp, arching against him, your hands clutching at his back as you ride out the overwhelming sensations together.

His name tumbles from your lips in a soft moan, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. For a moment, the world outside fades — it's just the two of you, tangled together, hearts pounding in sync, as you both come down from your highs.

He doesn’t move right away, his weight still pressed against you, his hands tracing slow, soothing circles on your hips as he catches his breath. You can feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, a silent reminder of the intensity you just shared.

Finally, Jungkook picks his head up from your chest, his dark eyes soft as they meet yours. He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, just because he finally can. It feels different now, with no hesitation between you, just pure connection. After pulling away, he shifts to lay beside you, pulling you against his chest, your bodies fitting together perfectly. 

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, both of you catching your breaths, the calm after the storm. Jungkook’s fingers absentmindedly trace shapes on your back, lulling you into a peaceful haze. But then, he breaks the quiet with a teasing tone.

“Did I exceed your expectations, my Queen?” His voice is low and playful, a soft chuckle escaping him.

You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “Arrogant, are we?” 

But you don’t let him respond. Instead, you sit up, straddling his waist once again, your grin mischievous as you lean down to kiss him, deeper this time, your lips lingering against his. 

“Might need to go again to give you a wholehearted answer,” you say with a smirk, looking down at the man who looks far too comfortable in your bed — a man who, by all means, shouldn’t be here.

His eyes widen for a moment before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, matching your energy. He chuckles, his hands gripping your waist firmly, his desire evident.

Jungkook knew that once the children were tucked safely into bed, these sneaky nights with you would be his favorite part of the day — full of far more excitement than he’d ever imagined.

The days stretched on like endless hourglasses, the sand moving far too slowly. Every moment of the daylight hours was consumed by anticipation, the constant pull of wanting the sun to sink and the moon to rise. It was during the night, when Jungkook would slip quietly into your chamber, that the world finally felt right.

Whether it was tangled sheets, quiet conversations, soft laughter, or simply lying in each other’s arms, those moments with him were the highlight of your days — only second to the joy of your children’s smiles, of course. But with Jungkook, time seemed to bend, each night feeling like a stolen treasure that you cherished more with every passing hour.

As much as you despised the act of walking past Jungkook during the day, pretending he wasn't your lover at night, the thrilling game of trying not to get caught was undeniably fun.

The secret, the tension of it, had its own special allure. Yet, there were moments when the near misses took a more terrifying turn.

Like that one time.

You'd been soaking in a bath, the water warm and fragrant with bubbles, the steam swirling around you like a blanket of comfort. But Jungkook, always unpredictable, had snuck in without a sound. Before you could even protest, he was stripping himself bare, sliding into the tub with you, the sudden shift in water making a small splash as he settled in.

Laughter filled the room as water overflowed, but that quickly faded into a mix of heavy breaths, wet skin, and the sound of sloppy kisses. Jungkook's hands gripped your waist as he leaned back, his head resting against the tub's edge, eyes locked on you. Your hips moved in sync, the sound of water splashing and your soft moans combining with his groans, creating a rhythm that made your heart race.

Then, just as the heat between you both reached its peak, a knock at the door shattered the moment. It was so sudden and unexpected that Jungkook's hand shot up, covering your mouth before you could release a gasp, freezing you in place. Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest.

"Your Grace, I have your warm towels," came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. The maid sounded so oblivious, so unaware of what was actually happening just beyond the wooden barrier.

Jungkook didn't move a muscle, still as stone, his hand resting over your lips as his eyes met yours with a mischievous glint. Slowly, he lifted his hand, urging you to speak.

"J- just leave them at the door," you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heartbeat betrayed your calm facade. "I’ll grab them once I'm finished."

Jungkook stifled a chuckle, clearly finding the entire situation amusing as though it was nothing more than a joke to him. But you knew better. This was dangerous, reckless, and could cost both of you far more than just embarrassment.

"Very well, Your Grace," came the maid's voice, before the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance.

The moment she was gone, you slapped Jungkook's chest, eyes narrowed in mock fury. "We could've been caught," you said, your voice laced with both exasperation and something else — something darker, more thrilling. But the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed your feigned seriousness.

Jungkook grinned, his chest rising and falling with a quiet chuckle, as he pulled you back toward him, the playful tension still lingering in the air.

Because nights with Jungkook were always too short, he made sure to steal as many kisses and playful winks during the day as possible. The fleeting moments shared between you were like stolen treasures, hidden in plain sight.

Whenever the children finished their lessons, Jungkook was quick to position himself in front of the door to the next room they’d move into, knowing you'd soon follow, eager to check on them and hear about what they’d learned. Each time, like clockwork, you’d approach, ready to step past him, only for him to block your way with a teasing grin.

“Let me in,” you’d whine softly, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

He’d simply point to his cheek, signaling for a kiss as if he were making a royal decree. You’d roll your eyes but play along, leaning in. Just as your lips brushed his cheek, he’d turn his head swiftly, catching your kiss on his lips instead.

Your heart would race as you quickly pecked his lips once more, a mixture of thrill and worry filling you at the thought of someone walking down the corridor and catching you both. With a final flustered glance at him, you’d hurry into the chamber to join your children, trying to maintain your composure as you asked them about their day.

Meanwhile, Jungkook would stand tall outside the door, his expression serious, as though he was merely guarding the room. But the sparkle in his eyes and the lingering hint of a smile betrayed him, the playful mischief still present even as he forced himself to appear composed.

The only person who knew about your secret relationship with Jungkook was Atticus. You’d confided in him, and he had been overjoyed to learn he’d been right all along. He had always suspected something, but hearing it from you only fueled his excitement and pride at being in on the secret.

Jungkook’s devotion to you went far beyond his duty as a knight. On the surface, he played his role flawlessly, always by your side, always vigilant. To everyone else, he was simply your loyal protector, the ever watchful guard who would give his life without question. But beneath that armor, beneath the stern facade he wore in public, his loyalty ran much deeper.

He wasn’t just devoted to you as his Queen; he was devoted to you as the woman he loved, with a fierce, unshakable passion that transcended titles or obligations. Every time he stood by your side, it wasn’t just as your sworn knight but as the man who would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant loving you in secret for the rest of his life.

In the quiet moments, when the world wasn’t watching, his love shone through. The way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his fingers lingered just a moment longer when they brushed against yours, or the way his lips would curl into a faint smile when he caught you stealing glances at him. It was in the way he held you at night, after everyone else had gone to bed, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke of a love so deep, words could never do it justice.

Jungkook didn’t need grand gestures or declarations of love. His devotion was in the small things, the quiet sacrifices, the way he protected you not just with his sword but with his heart. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word in the darkness was a testament to his unwavering loyalty — not to the crown, not to his duty, but to you.

And though the world might never see the depth of his devotion, you felt it every day. In the way he watched over you, in the way he shielded you from not only physical threats but from the weight of loneliness that sometimes crept in. He was your protector, not just in body but in spirit.

As the years passed, your secret love remained hidden, but his devotion never wavered. No matter the risks, no matter how many times you had to pretend in public that he was nothing more than a knight, Jungkook’s heart was yours, fully and completely.

In the end, it didn’t matter that the world would never know the truth. You knew. You saw the way he loved you, not just as a knight sworn to protect you but as a man devoted to your heart, forever bound to you in a way that went beyond duty or title.

And in that devotion, you found your peace. Because you knew, no matter what happened, Jungkook would always be by your side — not just as your protector but as your lover, your confidant, and the one person who truly understood the depths of your soul.

© voyter 2024, all rights reserved.

[idkyetxoxo]

Cregan Stark - The Cold Claim

Summary - Even the fiercest lords can be overwhelmed by jealousy, as Cregan Stark discovers when a young lord's lingering gaze threatens to disrupt his night, sparking a passionate encounter that reignites the flames of love.

Pairing - Cregan Stark x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2430

Masterlist for Cregan • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Cregan Stark was not a jealous man by nature. He was steady, confident in himself, and, above all, unwavering in his trust for his wife. 

He never questioned her loyalty; that was a certainty in his mind, as constant as the cold winds of the North. But his trust didn't extend to the men around her, whose lingering glances and half-hidden smiles betrayed desires he would never allow.

"How do I look?" I asked, giving a small twirl to show off my gown. 

Cregan barely looked up from the scroll in his hands, still engrossed in the matters of his House, despite the fact we were minutes away from hosting a feast for half the North.

"Absolutely divine," he murmured, his gaze finally lifting to meet mine. His eyes drifted over me, slower than usual, his attention caught.

"Good, because the seamstress seems to have gotten a few things wrong," I said, tugging at the fabric that clung a little too tightly to my chest. "She stitched it far tighter than usual—and forgot the sleeves altogether, apparently."

He grinned, standing and moving toward me with an appreciative gleam in his eye. 

"Happy accidents," he murmured, trailing a finger along the curve of my collarbone, then lower, letting his hand settle where the fabric hugged me most.

"Oh, you oaf, we have guests to entertain," I laughed, swatting his hand away even as he chuckled, unrepentant, leaning in close.

"Then don't look so tempting," he whispered against my ear, pressing soft kisses along my jawline, his hand warm against my back, pulling me in closer. 

I sighed, tilting toward him, before quickly remembering our guests waiting below.

"Come on, we really do have to go," I said, giving his arm a firm tug, pulling him down the winding halls of Winterfell as his laughter filled the corridors.

The hall was alive with the sounds of celebration, laughter, and clinking goblets, with firelight casting a warm glow across Winterfell's stone walls. 

On Cregan's arm, I moved through the crowd, greeting familiar faces with smiles and nods. 

His presence was steady beside me, his grip on my hand warm and reassuring, as we made our way through the gathered lords and ladies of the North. I felt a thrill of pride at his side; in this hall, surrounded by so many allies, he was truly in his element.

Beside him, I effortlessly charmed the lords and ladies with grace, drawing smiles and laughter with my kind words and wit. 

Cregan felt a deep pride in my presence—a loyalty and trust that ran as unbreakable as Northern steel. But as we worked our way down the hall, greeting guests, a particular gaze caught his eye.

We approached Lord Manderly, a young man recently raised to his station after his father's untimely passing. 

Manderly stood tall and well-dressed, holding a goblet that he swirled idly as his eyes took in every inch of me with a gleam that bordered on insolence. 

His expression shifted from polite regard to something unmistakably appreciative, his gaze lingering on me with a blatant hunger that made Cregan's grip on his goblet tighten.

"My lady," Manderly began with a flourish, his gaze fixed on me with more fervour than was fitting. "It is a true honour to be here under Winterfell's great roof, and doubly so to meet a woman as radiant as yourself." 

His words rolled off his tongue with the practised ease of a flatterer, his eyes shamelessly tracing the line of my collarbone and down the curve of my gown.

Unaware of Manderly's attentions, I only smiled, laughing at his compliment with a polite wave of my hand. 

"You flatter me, my lord," I replied kindly, my laughter soft and genuine, the very same I'd given a dozen others that evening. A vision of charm, ease and warmth lighting up the hall. 

But every word I spoke, every polite nod I gave, seemed to encourage the young lord's brazenness.

Cregan felt his patience wane as Manderly leaned in slightly closer, a smirk lingering on his face, a knowing look in his eyes. Manderly's hand brushed my arm as he spoke, letting it linger just a fraction longer than necessary.

"Perhaps we could steal a moment later?" Manderly suggested, his voice low, his gaze drifting to my lips. "I would relish the chance to get to know such a fine lady more personally."

Cregan's jaw clenched. It was a subtle movement, but it was enough to bring a storminess to his usually controlled demeanour. 

I gave a soft, oblivious laugh at Manderly's boldness, my mind as far from suspicion as the stars were from the earth. 

I was gracious, unaware of the fire building in Cregan's chest with each of Manderly's lingering glances.

"Manderly," Cregan cut in, his voice colder than the North's winter wind, "surely your thoughts aren't as far south as your words imply."

Manderly blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the hard edge in Cregan's tone. 

But he only straightened, raising his goblet in a silent challenge, his gaze darting to me as if he couldn't resist the temptation.

"Of course not, Lord Stark," he replied, his tone laced with feigned respect. "I only mean to show my admiration for the Lady of Winterfell. I'm sure all men here would agree she's worthy of it."

It took everything in Cregan not to let his frustration boil over then and there. 

His hand found mine, holding it firmly, a silent declaration of his claim. I sensed the shift in his mood, looking at him curiously, but he only gave a thin smile.

"Enough pleasantries, Manderly," he said, his voice like steel. "The North has other matters to see to tonight."

And as he led me away, Cregan didn't miss the flicker of disappointment in Manderly's eyes—a flicker that he made a silent vow to remember.

Throughout the evening, Cregan remained firmly by my side, his arm wrapped possessively around my waist. 

I could feel the tension in him, subtle at first but growing more intense as the night wore on. His gaze rarely left me, scanning the room as if every man was a potential threat. 

Though I found it endearing at first, his attention eventually made it hard to move or greet others properly.

"You have to let me wish everyone farewell," I murmured, trying to peel his arm from around my waist with a gentle nudge.

"Let them leave without their wishes," he replied quietly, his grip tightening, his eyes shadowed with a barely contained jealousy. 

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes, but I couldn't deny my own curiosity about his behaviour.

"No," I replied, sliding his arm free, "these are your guests, and they'll expect some manners from us both."

Reluctantly, he let me go, though his gaze never wavered. 

As I moved around the hall, offering each lord and lady warm words of departure and blessings for a safe journey, I felt Cregan's eyes on me, watching my every move.

When I reached Lord Manderly, he was more forward than I had anticipated. 

His youthful face held a smile that bordered on smugness as he stepped forward, hand extended, his fingers wrapping around mine before I even had a chance to react. 

"Lady Stark," he murmured, his lips hovering over my knuckles as he pressed a kiss to my hand—one that lingered far longer than courtesy allowed.

As I laughed politely, trying to pull back, Manderly's hand tightened around mine, refusing to release me. His thumb traced the back of my hand, his gaze fixed on mine with an intensity that left no room for misinterpretation. 

"Perhaps next time," he said softly, "I could convince you to stay at White Harbor a little longer, Lady Stark. I've no doubt my halls would warm at your presence."

Cregan's sharp gaze caught the exchange, his whole frame stiffening as he watched Manderly's lingering hold on me. 

His grip on his goblet tightened, his knuckles pale against the dark wood. 

He knew he had no reason to doubt me, yet the casual way Manderly's gaze roamed over me—over his wife—kindled a silent fury within him.

That was all it took—before I could respond, Cregan closed the distance between us in a heartbeat.

"My lord," Cregan's voice was a cold, dangerous whisper, each word clipped. "Your journey awaits." 

His hand reached for mine, his grip firm as he pulled me away from Manderly's hold, his expression leaving no question about his fury.

"I wish you a good night and a safe journey," Cregan said, barely looking at Manderly as he whisked me away with a resolute stride, guiding me firmly toward the doors.

"Cregan," I hissed under my breath as we left the hall, trying to keep my composure as he practically dragged me through the corridors. "Slow down—people are watching."

"No," he replied, his voice tight as he picked up the pace, his hand gripping mine like a lifeline. 

He didn't slow until we reached the doors of our chambers. With a swift movement, he pushed them open, urging me inside, and shut them firmly behind us.

"Tell me why we were running," I said, hands on my hips, breath catching as I looked at him, half frustrated, half amused.

Instead of answering, he took two quick steps forward, his hands reaching for me with an urgency that took my breath away. 

"No," he murmured, pressing his lips to mine with a fierce intensity that left no room for argument. His arms wrapped around me, his hands firm against my back as he pulled me close, his grip on me as unyielding as his gaze had been all evening.

I gasped against him, my hands fisting in his tunic, pulling him closer as his hands roamed, grounding me and igniting me all at once. 

"Cregan, I—" I began, my voice trailing off as I tried to pull away, but he let out a needy whine, his fingers gripping my dress like his very life depended on it. 

"Need you," he murmured, voice hoarse and filled with longing, each word sending a thrill down my spine. 

His lips found my neck, brushing over my skin, his kisses growing hotter and more urgent, fingers fumbling as they tried to tear away the layers that kept us apart.

"Stop," I said, my voice firmer this time as I pushed him back.

The slight distance between us seemed to startle him, his breathing rough as he struggled to pull himself back. He looked at me, surprised and a little embarrassed, and I felt a laugh threatening to bubble up. 

I tilted my head, biting my lip as I met his gaze with mock seriousness.

"Are you going to tell me what's gotten into you?" I asked, watching as he rubbed a hand over his face, sighing as though he wanted to sink into the floor.

After a moment's hesitation, he finally muttered, "Manderly."

I raised an eyebrow, enjoying this more than I'd admit. "So... you were jealous?" I teased, barely able to keep a grin from spreading. 

His jaw clenched, and he glanced away, clearly wishing he were anywhere else.

"Was Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North jealous?" I pressed, savouring the words.

"Yes," he groaned, drawing me back toward him. The soft admission melted something in him, his hands claiming me as he lifted me effortlessly. 

"Yes," he repeated, his voice thick with vulnerability and desire as he brought me close again, his lips brushing against my ear. "Now stop talking, love, and let me have you." 

His words were rough but reverent as if I were the only balm for his restless soul. He lowered me back onto our bed, holding me there with a careful, possessive tenderness.

Cregan knew I was his and his alone, yet the thought of someone else—anyone else—thinking they could take me even for a moment was enough to unsteady him. 

In my presence, he was strong; without me, he feared he might shatter.

"Come here," I murmured, fingers curling into the strands of hair at the back of his neck as I pulled him down toward me. I pressed my lips to his, each kiss a whisper of laughter, love, and shared promises. 

"You fool," I whispered affectionately, unable to resist.

Cregan's hands traced the curves of my body, his touch moving with a mixture of patience and yearning, lingering over every line as though to memorize it anew. 

His grip tightened as he settled between my thighs, looking down at me with a heat that felt like both devotion and hunger. 

"My beautiful wife," he murmured, his voice almost reverent as he threaded his fingers through my hair. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, everything else faded, leaving only the quiet, magnetic pull between us.

Slowly, he pressed himself into me, a shared sigh passing between us as he began to move, his body in perfect harmony with mine. 

I wrapped my legs around his waist, urging him closer, welcoming the weight of him, the way he filled every part of me, grounding me even as he drove me higher. 

The familiar rhythm of our bodies moving together felt like home, both comforting and thrilling, sending a deep, lingering warmth through every inch of me.

"Only yours," I murmured, the words spilling out naturally, a vow I'd meant from the start. 

Cregan's gaze softened for a moment, something unguarded and deeply raw there before he leaned down to press kisses along my collarbone, trailing down, each kiss like a brand.

"Only mine," he agreed, voice thick as he began to move with a slow intensity, each thrust more purposeful than the last, building a steady, unrelenting heat. 

His fingers traced paths across my skin, exploring and rediscovering as he found that perfect spot that made my breath hitch and my mind go blissfully blank.

I let my head fall back, lost in the sensation as his touch, his warmth, his voice wrapped around me, drawing me closer and closer to that edge. 

Cregan's movements were slow but powerful, each one drawing out a new wave of pleasure, coaxing me further into a blissful haze. 

The world blurred as he quickened his pace, his mouth finding mine again as he kissed me, deep and consuming, until I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.

In that moment, as he held me so close, so entirely his, I felt as if I were the only thing that mattered to him, just as he was to me. 

Cregan, fierce and loving, my husband, gave himself completely as he pulled from me every last ounce of surrender and left me breathless, completely and utterly undone in his arms.

A/n - need him iwl x

[rae-butter]

At first, he thought that his luck had finally run out. A power of convenience becoming inconvenient? Sounds like a classic twist of fate, he thought, unable to keep the bitterness out of his thought life.

Then his date came to the hospital.

When he saw her, he conveniently remembered seeing a post on the news about her, the infamous serial killer they hadn’t caught yet. A shiver went down his spine.

Was this why he got into the car accident? A convenient escape to dodge his possible murder? She was dozing on a hospital couch, her curly blond hair frizzy from the humidity, wearing a sleeveless shirt and exercise shorts. Quite the change from the orange jumpsuit.

Part of him felt guilty for the thought, but if he managed to partner with her, it would be a fine investment for his close-to-bankrupt funeral parlor.

Convenient indeed, he thought, unable to keep the pleasure out of his thought life.

You were born with the power of convenience, everything is convenient for you. Always a full cellphone bar. Never hitting a red light. Everyone being more late then you so no one can complain about you being late. One day, you were driving to meet a date. Until you got into a car crash

[sharklovingaquarist]

Sooooo as someone going into fields that contain biology I think it's time we talk about how we see it from a fully male perspective. It's gotten to the point for me that I cannot listen to men talk biology, specifically reproduction. When we talk about male competition, we talk about it as "the right to mate". However this sees reproduction as a sentient, default specimen (male) doing to the secondary, inanimate vessel (female). In reality males fight for the CHANCE to win female attention. Females will forever be more selective sexually in the majority of animals. This is because females expend more energy in reproduction (the simple fact eggs are the larger gamete). Even in most fish, where care is commonly paternal, you will find heavy selection on the female side. Females are not fought over like an object to earn or "inseminate" the pure attention we give is what's fought over. Females almost always control their species. Look at tiger endlers. It may seem like the males harass females, but females actually CHOOSE exactly which sperm they concieve with and retain sperm for up to a year (trust me I have SEEN it myself). There's also this notion that males are all about genetics while female is about love or is about being a vessel. That's laughable. Females want their genetics to succeed just as much as males. They just dont have to fight as much because they have the limited gamete, its not a competition to be chosen when the other sex is unlimited. And the way we talk about paternal vs maternal. Paternal animals are all about "self preservation" but maternal animals are robots to their love. Dont get me started on how people act when I tell them my betta males do the incubating. We like to see it as a male competing to spread his genes and not a female choosing to complete her genes with the perfect individual. Every time someone tries to symbolize sex this shit comes into play. Male is the default that uses female as his tool. Be it describing it as penetration, fertilization, and much more. On the topic of "fertilization" did you know that the egg chooses the sperm? Did you know eggs are more complex than sperm? Did you know that eggs are not infertile without a sperm they just arent a embryo? We see female as defined by male, made valueable by male. A vessel filled by male. I think it's time for females to realize that nature is actually quite female centered. Hopefully as we get more women in this field, that will change. Because right now I'm starting to learn that a lot of science is worded in a way so males can cope with actually being quite lesser than females and at our disposal.

Edit: thanks for all the attention everyone! I've always wanted a space I could talk about this sort of thing. Glad to know I'm not alone on this. Trying to be in this field as a feminist can be insufferable

[whimsyvixen]

Ooh would you ever do a piece on like a riot cop/riot suppression officer? Just a big burly guy with a face covering helmet that wants nothing more than to pound some law and order into the mc

Men in uniform always have clutching my pearls. Abuse of authority kink makes me one sick woman but I can't help my desires. I want to be held down by a strong man, especially by one that is hellbent on putting me in my place~~⛓️😩

You have a very peculiar head on those shoulders, darling. I absolutely love it~ 🖤♥️. You actually gave me a bit of motivation to doodle something for this idea of yours. I can't offer you a story so this drabble is the best I can give you. I hope you like it ✌️💋💋💋!!

~

Red Velvet

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Riot police officer x female reader

⚠️ WARNINGS/TAGS⚠️: explicit content, yandere, dark smut, rape/non-con elements, forced orgasm, unprotected sex, mating press, forced breeding, slapping, dacryphilia, degradation, dirty talk.

You're shrieking and sobbing from the exquisite fucking being forced on you. It was too much! I couldn't do this anymore. You're trying to shove him away and pleading for him to be more gentle, your squirming doing little to disrupt the tempo of his pistoning hips.

Desperately, you threw your hand forward with all your might and your fist connected with his face. He let out a grunt of pain, holding his nose with one hand while he held you down with the other hand to pin you to the floor. Seeing him gingerly touch his nose to determine the damage, your struggles renewed to get away from him. Suddenly, a vicious backhand twisted your head to the side, your stunned face breaking out in more tears from the sting on your cheek.

"The hard way it is then," there is a vacant look in his eyes as he stares down at you, making you dread what he had in store for you. He is quick to grab the back of your knees, pushing them to your chest to fold you into a more obscene position.

He doesn't give you time to formulate a protest before your high pitched cries echo across the room once more as he jackhammers into your poor abused pussy, the filthy squelch of cock piercing the walls of your womanhood audible over the repeated slap of wet flesh clashing against one another. Tears blur the image of the riot police officer above you, his black attire pristine if not for the blood smeared across it.

Those poor people. They didn't deserve it and here you were, allowing the monster responsible for their deaths pound away at your insides like a common whore.

"I'm almost there, you rebellious little bitch," he hissed over you, his serpentine eyes fixated on his cock plundering the heated depths of your pussy. His brows scrunched in near pain as your cunt strangles his dick, your walls gripping the rod of flesh so tightly that it was almost hard to pull out of you when he shifted his hips back.

"I'm cumming inside this tight little pussy." He chuckled at your horrified expression, bringing one gloved hand down to rub your swollen clit tenderly before pinching it between his fingers. The action had your hips thrusting up, a mortifying moan escaping your lips as you shook from the painful pleasure. Your eyes rolled back as he continued applying pressure to your sensitive nub, your mind no longer coherent as your body became a slave to his touch. Your hips started grinding shyly into his thrusts, unable to resist the decadent pleasure of a dick stretching your cunt and kissing your womb with every deep thrust.

"Good girl, let's end this, yeah?" He murmured sweetly, his harsh breathing muffled behind his mask. "I can feel my balls tightening up. Get ready for my load, bitch. You'll be drowning in it soon enough."

[luvyeni]

( drabble ) ̨ give me a chance ! ୨୧ 一 황현진 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ hyunjin is tired of you not giving him a chance  ヾ

bestfriend!hyunjin・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ mean dom hyune, unprotected sex, degradation ‎ wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. can i rq mean dom hyune x his slutty best friend reader idk the plot but ... yeah smut 😃

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3 !!!

hyunjin supported everything you did; of course, as his best friend of many years, he supported all your doings. even if that meant listening to you go on and on about your latest fuck with a random dude in a bar — or the random man from tinder that you invited back to your home to fuck , or any of the random men you fuck weekly … yeah he listened to all of it — even if he dreamed of being one of the guys you fucked, maybe being the only guy you fucked.

“when i tell you he was big, hyunjin he was huge.” he sat barely listening to you talk as you laid on his bed , legs swinging off the side of his bed. “i feel like there’s a but to this?” he heard you sigh. “he couldn’t for the life of me make me cum.” you had no problem getting the guy; you just had trouble finding the right guy, a guy who get you there. “it’s like if you’re gonna have a big dick at least use it right, i thought all guys with big dicks knew to use them.”

maybe it was the slight buzz he had from the soju that was sitting on the nightstand; or maybe it was because your boobs we’re about to slip from your tank top, but it was like his mouth moved before his brain could even register what to say. “just because a guy has a big dick doesn’t mean he knows how to use it.” he said. “you’ve fucked about 10 guys with quote big dicks and none of them made you cum, i thought you would’ve figured it out already.”

“you’re saying that like you know someone with a big dick and can use it.” your tank top strap falling down your shoulders, you smirked. “oh i do.” he said, hand coming up to your shoulder strap — the tension in the room suddenly changing and his eyes darkening as he grabbed the strap. “but you’re too busy slutting yourself out to random dudes to notice.” he yanked down the strap, your boobs finally free from the shirt. “hyune!”

you tried to cover your bust, but he was quick to slap your hands away. “finally get to see those tits you love showing other dudes.” you should've pushed him away, you were his best friend, it was highly inappropriate. but as he pushed you back , climbing on top of you and you actually got a feel of his hard cock — you quickly forgot about that and allowed him to pull all your clothes off.

“giving your body to just anyone who looks your way.” he slapped your bare cunt. “not even looking my way once.” he growled, grabbing the base of his cock, stroking himself. “messy fucking pussy, you just get wet for any guy don’t you?” you moaned as he used the pad of his thumb rubbing little circles on your bud. “ju-just you.”

“just me?” he smirked, rubbing his cock up and down your slit. “you mean you weren’t even wet when you were fucking them?” he teased you by pushing his tip into your hole. “just left them use you as a cum dump?” he pushed the rest of his cock inside you. “fuck!” both of you moaned out. “fuck you’re tight , clearly they weren’t that big , your little pussy is quivering right now, struggling to take my fat cock.” he groaned , slowly moving his hips. “this is what a real big cock is supposed to feel like.”

you weren’t gonna lie, he definitely was the biggest yet, his cock was stretching you out. “s-so big.” he chuckled condescendingly. “i know.” he cursed as he pulled out. “im about to ruin this pussy for anyone else.” he slammed back inside forcing his cock all the way in. “fucking slut.” he hissed , moving his hips , pulling your shirt down letting your boobs bounce freely. “tired of listening to how you slut yourself out.” he groaned. “you wanna be a slut , gonna fuck you like one.”

his hand coming up to your throat, squeezing as his cock bullied your sweet spot. “fuck fuck fuck!” you screamed. “to-too much hyune.” he didn’t slow down though, his thrust were relentless. “take it slut.” he cursed. “if you can take all those random dudes' cocks you can take mine.”

you were a mess; tears streaming down your face, the way his hips snapped against yours, his hands slapping your clit. “you’re crying? my dick is making you go dumb?” babbling nonsense as you felt your orgasm approaching. “fuck your pussy is squeezing me, you gonna cum slut?” you nodded. “cum. cum all over my cock.” your legs shook as you came, but he didn’t stop. “im not done.” he groaned. “you came but i didn't and don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“gonna use this pussy as my own personal cumdump.”

©️LUVYENI

[treffys-thunder-thighs]

Please put LoS Trevor’s gender in the bag and nobody gets hurt 🔫

[pepperyduck]

pins & needles

summary: how various jjk men react to ur new/unnoticed piercings! incl. nanami, gojo, geto, choso

warnings: veryyyyyyy suggestive (esp in nanami's), (new) piercings, geto's & nanami's is a new relationship type thing. excuse any typos pls😞. 18+ mdni!

a/n: i got like 3 new piercings over the weekend, this is just self indulgent and cute methinks. also tyyy for 700 :3, i'm trying so hard to get over the writer's block. love u all!

choso + smiley piercing!

"i've never been happier to see you," choso groans as soon as he enters your dorm, kicking off his shoes at the door. though his voice is monotone, you can infer he's tired, worn out from a day's work and fighting curses.

"rough day?" you scoot over in bed to allow room for your boyfriend, smoothing out the sheets and flipping your blanket up.

"very." the singular word is the only response choso gives before beginning to strip his uniform right in front of you. as you're watching intently, choso gets almost completely naked before grabbing some clothes he'd left over; a pair of baggy pants and an "i heart my girlfriend" shirt that you gifted him, and lazily putting them on.

"i did something today, cho," you inform him, and choso’s attention immediately snaps to you, eyes showing that he was obviously wondering.

"what’d you do?"

you give him a bright smile, all the teeth in your mouth shown to him, the shiny ring glistening atop your pretty gums. choso’s brows furrow together, his pupils coming to realize there was something new in your mouth, something different about your smile.

"what’s…that?" he asks, stepping closer and closer and eventually sitting on the bed with you. you giggle at his curious looking, his eyebrows still knitted together in an inquisitive way.

"a piercing, silly," you inform him, carefully flipping up your top lip to show where the jewelry went through the frenulum of your inner lip.

"does it hurt?" choso leans in even more, straightening his eyes with the freshly pierced hole in your mouth.

"not really, just a little bit," you tell him, letting go of your lip and pressing a quick peck to choso’s lips. it catches him off-guard, choso’s face lights up red because he thought he couldn’t kiss you. smiling triumphantly, you pull away from your boyfriend.

"it—um—it looks really pretty on you." choso compliments, "can i kiss you again? please?" and he’s so sincere and sweet, always asking permission for everything. so endearing, really, even with his deep, dark voice.

needless to say, when he kisses you again, choso is making sure to flick the jewelry all around with his tongue, faintly enough to not hurt the new wound. and it becomes a habit from thereon.

gojo + bellybutton piercing!

"i missed you so much, baby."

satoru is on top of you, arms caging you in while you lay underneath him, smiling and feebly grasping the biggest part of his bicep. it had been over a month since you'd seen your husband, he'd been away on a business trip for far too long.

"did you miss me?" his words are drawn out and dramatic, like always, like he was teasing you—but he was practically always teasing you.

"yes, satoru," you blankly reply, "i missed you."

just before you can roll your eyes, gojo's kissing you, a bit enthusiastically, but you quickly melt into his touch. as annoying as he could be, you loved him, you missed him. you had longed for him the moment he left—that was a fact you couldn’t deny.

as quickly as he meets your lips, satoru leaves, disconnecting himself to trail down your torso that was draped in a way-too-expensive t-shirt of his. but the one thing that doesn't leave you is his eyes, he keeps an intense stare on your face as he moves lower and lower towards your waistline. his fingertips dance along your sides before pinching the fabric of the bottom of the shirt and slowly lifting it up.

his eyes are no longer able to stay on yours when he catches a glimpse of the sparkly blue rhinestones on each ball of the jewelry stuck through your navel. of course, you chose the shade that best matched satoru's eye color.

"no way!" satoru exclaims, beaming with a new-found excitement for the little hole in your tummy, "you actually did it?"

"yes, satoru," you repeat, threading your fingers through the white tufts of your husband's hair.

gojo's nimble fingers come to play with the jewelry—the size comparison comedic from how large his hands are. he studies the now fully healed wound, moving the jewelry all around and practically forgetting the previous heated mood.

"do you like it?" you somewhat nervously ask, intimidated by the tedious investigation of your bellybutton.

"yes, duh," satoru dramatically quips, "you think i should get one next?"

nanami + nipple piercing!

kento had tried so hard to ignore it.

you didn't mean to distract him, really. it was a simple mishap at first, not wearing a bra when kento came over. but after the first time, he didn't seem to mind, he was gentlemanly enough. his eyes stayed averted—when you were looking at him, at least—so you took it as a green flag to remain braless when he was at your house without worry.

but nanami's only a man.

so here you are, after work, after your boyfriend had come over, ranting to him in your kitchen about your boss and whatever bullshit you had to put up with that day. but your words land upon deaf ears, noise drowned out by the sight of the little hearts poking out from the shirt you're wearing. he's sat at your dining table, legs lazily spread as he half-listens to you.

"—like, what?! what else am i supposed to do in that situation?"

for the first time in your venting session, you lock eyes with kento, noticing how they flash up quickly from...your chest.

"ken?"

"um—yes?" he chokes, a little too obviously for him to not be embarrassed over.

a smug smile rests over your face, nanami was caught red handed, ogling at your boobs and the cute heart-shaped jewelry that adorned them.

"what'cha staring at?" trailing closer to him with a teasing tone in your voice, you're killing him, embarrassing the poor man as the seconds roll on. kento doesn't reply either, only a raspy breath leaving his lungs as his response. his face heats up and his expression drops, shamelessly glancing down at your chest once more—one, two—counting the peaks of your nipples through the shirt.

"i'm sorry," he finally chokes out, unable to keep his eyes from flashing up and down, to your eyes then to your chest, again and again.

without any words, you slot yourself between nanami's legs, inching your chest closer to his face. it was so funny how easily his stoic persona disintegrated under your presence. he'd never been this close to your chest—to you. and it's intoxicating to him, he's ashamed how he loses himself by simply being eye level with your boobs.

but that guilt quickly washes away when you take his hand and place it perfectly to cup your tit—index finger and thumb resting right around the pretty jewelry under your shirt.

tdlr; that's the first night your boyfriend stays over at your place.

geto + clavicle piercing!

"you look lovely tonight."

smooth as ever, geto compliments you, his voice dripping with a sweet nectar. your insides warm up despite the harsh cold outside, the thick coat draped over your frame doing little to combat the weather.

"thank you," you whisper and smile at him, stepping into the door of the fancy restaurant suguru had chosen for your date. third date, to be exact.

once you're at your table, suguru helps you shimmy the bulky jacket off your shoulders, revealing the tasteful, deep-cut top you had chosen for your date—along with the two studs on each side of your collarbone that your clothing showed off rather perfectly.

it takes suguru a few moments to notice once he sits down. he tries to strike up conversation, relying on the simple questions and responses he can utter without getting too distracted. however, within a few minutes, geto is cracking, eyes every so often flickering down to the gems that aligned your clavicle so prettily. he can't help it, because with every slight movement you make, the jewelry sparkles in the dim light of the restaurant—it's hard to ignore.

"are you okay?" you interrupt your previous dialogue when you take note of geto's increasingly hazy replies, and how he seems a bit spaced out.

"yeah," suguru swallows deeply, "i really like your—um," his pointer finger vaguely motions to his own collarbone, and you have to look down at your chest before you realize what he’s talking about.

his mouth is dry. he’d already thought you were, like, the sexiest woman on earth, but this, oh this, was just too much. geto was unsure as to why he found the piercings so distracting, so hot, but nonetheless enjoyed the view he had.

"oh, thank you!" you giggle, smiling brightly and ghosting your fingers over the piercings—you’d honestly forgotten that this would be the first time he’s seen this much of your body, and the piercings ended up being the perfect touch to make suguru lose his mind.

and he can't wait until he's able to feel on 'em, too.

[karmasloverrr]

godspeed - rafe cameron

pairings- rafe cameron x maybank reader, established relationship

SZN 4 SPOILER!!!!!!!!!!!! you’ve been warned

this takes place in ep 10 right after everyone’s fighting and all that

———————————————————————————

The adrenaline was still running through your vains, like the hot, dusty sand you all found yourself in over the past couple of hours. Your hands are shaking, can’t fully grasp the weight of what you’ve just done.

“Baby?” You snap out of your shocked haze when a pair of comforting, familiar hands come to rest on the side of your waist , “a-are you ok?” His blue, stress ridden eyes bore into yours.

You take a shaky breath in, letting the gun you held drop to the ground below your feet. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you jump up into him. “He almost killed you, Rafe. I thought I was gonna lose you, I-I didn’t have any other choice, he was so close to-“, your rambling was paused by him shushing you quietly and rubbing a hand soothingly up and down your back, his other gripping the back of your head like his life depended on it.

“I know, I know, breathe Y/N, breathe” You were sobbing now. Not out of remorse for one of Dalia’s men, whom you had just shot dead out of defense for Rafe, but because you almost lost the love of your life.

Rafe pulls away, still keeping a hand on your back, keeping you close. “You just saved my life, Y/N. I’m so proud of you for being strong, it’s gonna be ok.” He was now using a thumb to wipe the tears falling from your eyes.

You nod frantically in understanding, sniffiling and leaning into his palms touch. Bringing a hand to his on your cheek, you intertwine fingers. “Are you o-ok? I mean you almost just got stabbed, Rafe. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if-“. He places both hands on your face now, demanding your attention.

“Hey, listen to me. You did exactly what I would’ve done if you were just in my situation, ok? Hell, I would’ve beat that fuckers face in before I let him get the chance to even go near you so don’t overthink this for a second, do you understand? I love you so much.”

You licked your lips and nodded. After Rafe had told you to stay with Kiara when he went to bide JJ some time with the crown, he got into trouble with one of Dalia’s men and hadn’t come back. You couldn’t stay still knowing he was by himself.

Despite protest from Kiara and how your brother needed you right now, you ran to look for Rafe. You could hear the sound of distress and punches being thrown before you could see them. Even through poor visibility you knew it was Rafe, your Rafe, being attacked. As you got closer you could see that he was being held at knife point and without thinking you pulled the gun out that rested at your hip and fired at the man’s back.

With JJ’s constant tutorials and a little bit of practice over the years you hit your target dead on. Except this time it wasn’t a beer bottle or a teddy bear, it was a human being and nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

Rafe continued to try and work you down from the shock and complete panic, rubbing your back and whispering sweet nothings into your hairline. He eventually brought a smile onto your face when he praised your accuracy and said how bad ass it was, “that’s my girl”.

“It was kind of badass wasn’t it?” He let out a laugh at your rebuttal. Even in your state of mind, the sound of it made your stomach tingle with butterflies.

“If I’m gonna be honest, after I realized what just happened and saw you standing there, I got a little turned o-“, you scoffed at his antics and pushed him away from you playfully. “Shut up.”

He pulled you back into him before you got any farther, wrapping both arms around your waist, in turn you grabbed his biceps, looking into the eyes that you love so much.

You let your smile fade a little when you saw his eyes glaze over, knowing he was about to get emotional.

“I’m serious, Y/N. You saved me and I couldn’t possibly thank you enough, please don’t feel guilty or anything like that. I would do anything for you too, y’know that.”

“I know, and seeing you like that, in that danger, made me sick and I-I just blacked out.” He nodded slowly in understanding, “but I’d do it again if it meant that you were ok.” you continued.

You were now the one stroking his arms in comfort, his head nodding up and down telling you he was processing it all. Now putting yourself on your tip toes to reach his face, you placed your lips on his in a loving kiss.

Pulling away, you placed your forehead on his. “It’s you and me, Cameron. Always.” He pulled away and placed a loving peck on the crown of your head, “Damn right, sweetheart.”

Taking his hand in yours, you began to walk back towards the direction that Kiara and JJ were. “Let’s go see if J found this fucking thing.”

Rafe scoffed but followed your lead, “I’ve had enough of this fairytale pogue sh-“, you gave him a ‘really?’ look, to which he held his hand up in defense and shrugged.

“They’ve made it this far, you’ve gotta hand it to them and besides, this is a little exciting don’t you think?”

He frowned and shook his head, “Almost just got stabbed to death but yeah, sure, having a grand old time.” You giggled at his sarcasm, used to it by now.

Walking up the hill, you exaggeratedly began to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to which he protested against immediately stating “this isn’t a rom-com, please stop” but deep down, he loved seeing you make light out of a shitty situation.

He knows it’s due to you being so used to doing it because of Luke growing up, which never fails to make his heart beat in rage, but everything in his world is ok, perfect, when he gets to see you smiling like this.

When you both reach the top, there’s an absence of your little brother and Kiara that causes your smile and stomach to drop. The sandstorm passed yet they’re still nowhere in sight.

“JJ?” you call out, in hopes that they’re possibly somewhere in ear range. Nothing.

“J! Kie! Guys?” You let go of Rafe’s hand, heading to go circle around the statue.

“Woah, don’t go by yourself. If they’re someplace close by they sure as hell didn’t stick around here, let’s head back towards the buildings. They probably met back up with John B and Sarah.”

You shook your head, “No, if they got the crown and were ok, they would’ve just came and found us. Rafe, somethings not right.” You started to head more towards the statue in hopes that they went a different direction but Rafe steps infront of you before you can get any further.

“Hey, stop. I know you’re worried but incase you forgot, it’s not just them that Daria’s men are looking for, ok? I’m not letting you get hurt in the process of trying to find them.”

You took the arm that he held out to his side as a barrier and shoved it. “Rafe, that’s my brother, please we need to at least look around the area and see-“ He began to side step along with you so you couldn’t move around him.

“I understand that, Y/N/N, but let’s use the brain I know you have and think rationally, alright? They probably went back with the group assuming we were there too, ok? Let’s start there.”

You shook your head in annoyance, you’ve always been stubborn and you’re certainly not budging about this. “All I’m saying, Rafe, is that we check around the area first, m-maybe they didn’t hear me when I yelled.”

“Baby, please listen to m-“

“John B! Pope! Y/N!”

You whipped your head to the direction of Kiara’s wail echoing through the air. A sound of desperation like you’ve never heard and don’t wanna hear again. “Oh my god.” you whispered in fear.

Rafe looked at you with agony in his eyes, recognizing the same fret in her voice that you did. Without any hesitation you took off down the hill, not listening to Rafe’s protest to “wait for him”.

Your mind was moving as fast as your legs, you didn’t know where you were going but it’s like your body knew exactly where to take you.

Weaving down and through the same maze like corridors that you had escaped from earlier led you closer to the sounds of your friends, “Kie?”, you yelled out in despair, now acknowledging Rafe’s footsteps a few seconds behind you.

You felt the room before you saw it, your stomach already declaring that somethings wrong, very wrong. Before you could brace yourself, you saw the image infront of you. Blood. John B shaking him. Kiara with her head on his chest and hands on his stomach. JJ.

“JJ?” you didn’t even recognize your own voice as it barely came out of your mouth, cracking and whispery, desperate and defeated.

Stumbling to a halt against Rafe’s chest, you felt your legs giving out from underneath you, a pair of arms coming to catch you before you collapsed. No, not him, please God, don’t do this to me, no. Rafe’s arms were the only thing keeping you stable while you began to crumble, him collapsing down to the floor with you as weeps exited your mouth, shaking your whole body.

You didn’t have to look at him very long to know he’s gone, you could feel it. Sobs and pleads from the group didn’t register against your own. It sounded so foreign coming out of your body. “He’s dead” you sobbed, physically feeling your heart breaking. “JJ, no”, you wailed. Your head feels a thousand pounds as you slowly lift it off the ground.

Rafe has his own placed against the top of your spine, his forehead making a known presence on your back, still gripping your arms as if you’ll go too if he doesn’t. To the best of your ability you try to stand, legs still feeling mush as you feel Rafe’s touch disappear the closer you get to your little brother.

Halfway through, you give up on the poor excuse for walking and collapse back to the ground again, now crawling towards his lifeless body. “JJ, wake up, please!”. The only sounds you can hear is the ringing in your ears, your sobbing screams and your heart breaking.

Your palm meets his face, already feeling so cold and lifeless, the exact opposite of JJ Maybank. “Please don’t do this to me. W-wake up, JJ!”. You continue stroking his cheek, patting it lightly a few times, hoping, begging, pleading for your brother to wake up.

Stroking his hair, you shake your head out of disbelief. Hushed whispers exit your lips, trying to reach the deepest parts of him.“I can’t do this without you JJ, don’t leave me.” It’s been you and him against the world, the shit hand you’ve been given wasn’t too bad when you had each other to fall back on.

Growing up you found solice in each other, you didn’t need anyone to help you or comfort you, you had your little brother and he had his older sister. When Luke was to drunk to help JJ get ready for school in the morning, it was you brushing his hair, picking out his outfit, making his lunch. With your mother long gone, you took pride in being that figure in his life and it was your greatest achievement, seeing the man he had turned into, no matter how rebellious and defiant, you loved him like your own, and now that he’s gone, what’s left for you?

“Who was it? Kiara, who did this to him?” you now turned your attention from JJ to Kie, her looking just as horrified as the rest of the group. A look of disgusted rage took over your face, your stomach bubbling with hatred.

She sniffled before speaking, “Chandler, h-he stabbed him, I- JJ saved me and gave him the crown, I don’t know- I can’t.” She began to sob, recalling the traumatic moment.

Motherfucker. If the betrayal wasn’t enough, knowing JJ was just trying to save his loved one and this is how he’s repaid?

You can’t see or think straight, one moment you’re mourning the loss of your best friend and the next you’re taking all the strength you have left and standing up with the gun on your hip, reloading the clip and heading towards the direction Kie said he went.

You don’t get very far before Sarah and John B rush to your side. “Y/N. Stay. We need you right now. Don’t do this.” You shake them off of you, sending your elbow into John B’s stomach in the process. “Get the fuck off of me.”

You whip around and point the gun at the group, they look at you in shock, not processing what’s going on. Your breathing is uneasy as you lick the forming sweat off your lips. “If any of you touch me one more time, I swear t-to God. I’m going to kill Groff and none of you are getting in my way.”

Looking around you see the faces of your best friends, sad, confused, and angry. The gun pointed at them has your stomach dropping. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” The gun you have aimed at them is making you sick all over again.

Rafe takes a few hesitant steps forward when he sees you begin to rub your chest anxiously, knowing it’s your way of trying to work your way down from a panic attack.

“Sweetheart, put the gun down, ok?” None of his words are registering with you. He’s gone, he’s gone, JJ’s dead.

Rafe catches you just before you start to collapse again, this time into the comfort of his chest and arms. He takes the gun that’s hanging loosely from your hand and reaches it behind his back for John B to take.

“Rafe, he’s dead. He’s g-gone.” sobbing the dreadful words into his chest, his shirt catching your tears. You’re both on the ground now, him cradling you like a toddler as he rocks you back and forth in comfort.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry, baby.” He strokes your hair and rubs your back, soaking in all of your pain. Your sobs begin to muffle as the others join in with you, still begging JJ to wake up, to open his eyes and to come back.

The weight of the air feels similar to your chest, no matter how much comfort and apologies Rafe whispers into your hair, it’s still not enough, your baby brothers gone and he’s never coming back.

The warmth of the fire fans your face. Emotionally and physically drained is where you and the Pogues have found yourself. Rafe keeps a steady eye on you as your head leans against his shoulder, knowing the last time you spoke was a few hours ago when he buried JJ, none of you being able to bring yourselves to do it.

Stray tears slip down your face, your expression remaining uninterested and dry. The only sound that can be heard is an occasional sniffing from the group and the cracks of the wood in the dying out fire infront of you.

You feel Rafe’s heartbeat against your back and his chest move when he talks. “I don’t know. If it was my friend I’d probably go after the guy that just killed him, yeah?” You take a steady breath in, getting ready to defend him when Pope tells him to “shut up”.

“You guys think that JJ would just sit here if it was one of us?” The whole group turns its attention to you, knowing you’ve been far too quiet for far too long, like JJ, you can be a ticking time bomb in moments like these.

John B is the first to speak up, “We all know what JJ would do. He’d get even.” You nod, still looking at the fire, kicking some sand as you stand up to begin pacing in rage.

Rafe watches your moves carefully, ready to defend you and back you up for whatever you’re about to say. He trusts you and he’s knows your best interest, you could tell him the sky was purple and he’d agree, while placing a loving kiss on your cheek.

You shake your head in agreement, feeling the never subsided rage bubble back up into your throat.

“Revenge.”

———————————————————————————

[deathbxnny]

Arcane women accidentally confessing to you. | Sevika, Jinx, Caitlyn, Vi x Gn!Reader

This is very self-indulgent, so enjoy.<3

Content: pre-season 2 because I want to be happy rn, slight angst if you squint, fluff, accidental confessions, maybe ooc??, cursing, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》SEVIKA

She was resting at the last drop with you during some downtime in between missions. One hand lingered on your hip whilst her metallic one held onto her cigar, eyes focused on the pocker game she was playing with a couple of Silco's other henchmen. She always kept you close this way, a clear sign of who you belonged to despite never having said a word about it yet. It was a mutual understanding only you could have, and so she didn't think a confession was necessary.

Until today, it seemed.

You were secretly helping her cheat a little and eventually told her the winning move, which earned her a large sum of money. Letting out a smug laugh at everyone's angered and defeated glares, she gave you a lazy grin. "Thanks, sweetheart. This is why I love you." She hummed to you, smoke exhaling from her dark lips, before she froze ever so slightly. Well, it shouldn't be that much of a surprise to either of you, and yet she couldn't help but chuckle at your own stunned face.

Looking at the men around her, she threw some poker chips towards them, clearly asking for another round. She wasn't the type to get flustered or shy anyways, so her moving on like nothing happened was on brand.

The only acknowledgment you got, however, was the hand on your hip tightening.

》JINX

She has a hard time hiding her feelings for you due to her rather energetic and extremely clingy nature. But there is still a clear distance between you two that she's too scared to cross. It was a deep fear of ruining everything she had with you in case her confession went wrong. She'd rather you consider her your best friend for life if it meant for you to stay at her side. She didn't want to lose more people after all. And yet, as fate has it, she eventually lost herself in a good and happy moment with you.

You were tinkering on some projects in her hideout whilst listening to music. Her head was leaning against your shoulder as her eyes traced your focused gaze. Jinx felt so content and at peace in that moment that she couldn't stop the words that spilled out of her mouth. "I love you." It took her a second to realise what happened, and her body was quick to flinch away from you. You kept her in place, however, with a free hand placed against her head. "Hey, it's okay. I love you too. I'm not leaving." You reassured her quickly with a smile, one that made her heart skip a beat.

She may not see herself as deserving of you, but she's glad to have you at her side anyway. Hopefully forever.

》CAITLYN

Caitlyn was good at hiding her emotions from you. In fact, she had refused to tell you in fear of breaking the professionalism you two had and, most importantly, your friendship that she cherished deeply. And so, she was very careful not to reveal a single thing... until her confidence betrayed her and caused her to slip up.

You two were reviewing a new case together, and whilst she wasn't paying attention, she accidentally slid you her diary over. It unfortunately looked too similar to her work notebook, something she only realised the moment you opened it and froze in surprise. She may have scribbled your name all over it. She may have childishly drawn hearts around your name. She may have made it awfully clear that she loved you. And it made her wonder if there was a god out there that hated her deeply.

"... My apologies. Please ignore that-" "-Haha, I'm so relieved that I'm not the only one who did this!" You let out a soft laugh before pulling out your notebook and showing her similar pages to her own, just with her name written all over them. Her face was flushed from how flustered and embarrassed she was, but alas, she too couldn't help and chuckle at how silly this all was. At least you felt the same.

》VI

It's not like she didn't want to confess her feelings to you. She just didn't know how! Her confession should sweep you right off your feet in her mind, and yet nothing she came up with seemed good enough. Vi hoped that her flirting would get the point across, but she lacked the confidence to go any further than compliments. She just didn't want you to think differently of her and therefore kept her distance for the most part regarding the subject. That is if she could keep it in for lobger than she already has. She always felt so strongly about others, after all.

So, during a little hang out session in a bar somewhere in Zaun, she attempted to find the courage to tell you how she felt. Whilst she went off to go and get you a drink first, however, a drunken man showed up at your side and started flirting you in a rather uncomfortable way. You tried making it clear that you weren't interested, but as he went to grab your arm, a hand slammed in between you two onto the bar table. "Hey, I think they told you no, asshole." "Who the hell are you?" The man barked back, yet Vi didn't back down and simply blocked you from his view with her body. "I'm their girlfriend, now fuck off." She hissed, and the man just rolled his eyes before walking off grumbling.

Silence filled the space in between you two until you chuckled softly. "Girlfriend, huh? I like the sound of that." You hummed, secretly trying to ease her embarrassed mind, that quickly recovered at your words with a sly grin. "You do?" You mirrored her smile with a nod. "Very much so. I'm glad we think alike."

[monicaalexandraaa]

This is so fun!! I felt giddy while reading :) loved it🩷🩷

Chances

~5k words

From Me: It's been about 2 minutes since my last love at first sight story so I figured that was long enough for another one. Just a silly little thing.

Warnings: A tiny bit of smut. Also she's shorter than Harry (only relevant for 20 seconds, max). Other than that, should be fluff fluff fluff.

Summary: Airports are gross, overpriced, and extremely anxiety-inducing. She hates being there.

But it's also where she sits with a really cute guy who makes her feel like she's flying from the moment she looks at him and before takeoff even begins.

What was it about airports that were so romantic? Everyone knew how gross they were. A petri dish of diseases on every surface. Overpriced food and drinks. Not to mention the exorbitant price of books and magazines. Almost everyone passing through was stressed with worry about missing their flight, losing their bag, losing their kid, or personal items. She was one of them. Even with an hour and half cushion she was worried it would take off or something while she was going to get a coffee.

Which was perhaps why she didn’t notice where she chose to sit at her gate. All that anxiety festering and building in her that only the relief of flopping into one of the seats near an outlet would release. She put her coffee in the little cup holder, tucked her bag beneath her feet and placed the overpriced book on her lap.

Someone called out for another person making her head tip up at the noise.

It was fate. Destiny. Whatever corny thing a romance writer would say it was. But there were only so many places her eyes could fall, and they happened to land on him.

What was it about making eye contact with a guy her age at the airport that made her feel like she was in a Hallmark movie? He gave her a polite smile. One that was downright pretty. Too pretty to be on a man's lips and one that made her heart skip a beat.

Hence why she was thinking about the romanticism of the airport in the first place.

She sincerely hoped she returned his kind smile because at the very least she didn’t want to be rude. But it was all a matter of seconds; this little romance novel scene she was playing out. Her cheeks felt warm with a rush of blood to her skin before she dropped her gaze back to her book. She had to. If she didn’t, she was going to do something crazy like profess how taken she was with him after meeting those stunning green eyes for half a second like the love at first sight she saw in movies.

But was that his gaze she felt heating up her skin? She refused to look up, but the words of her novel blurred together, and she could only think about how blue was one of her favorite colors growing up but green might have kicked that right out of the top spot in that moment.

*

Their flight was delayed which stressed her out beyond comprehension. It wasn’t even that long but if she didn’t have somewhere to be when she landed, she would have felt a lot better. She swore she was the last person to board the plane, and it only fueled her anxiety further.

But if it weren’t for the delay, her being last, or the fact that she was going to miss the rehearsal dinner for her friend’s wedding, the anxiety of seeing the hot guy from the gate was sitting next to her empty seat was surely going to give her a heart attack at the ripe age of her late twenties.

She felt her cheeks burning in recognition as he smiled again at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

That pretty face that was going to haunt her dreams for a lifetime. “Are you 12A?” He asked. The window seat, fortunately. His voice was warm and gentle.

“Yeah, sorry,” she bit her lip.

He chuckled standing in the aisle to get out of her way so she could get settled. “S’nothing t’apologize for.”

“I’m sure you thought you were going to have the row to yourself,” she sighed and placed her oversized purse on her seat so she could stow her carryon above her head.

“Allow me,” he offered and hoisted the bag to the storage space as if she hadn’t crammed a week’s worth of clothes and shoes inside it for only a long weekend. “S’okay. S’not a big plane. They said it was full.”

Stupid airports and their romantic goggles.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully and slipped into their row.

She noted all of his items were ready: a book tucked into the seat back compartment, a bottle of water stowed there as well, and his phone and headphones that he pulled from his pocket and placed on the tray once he was seated again. She fiddled with her bag, pulling out the items she wanted tucked into the spaces she had easy access to as well. Most importantly, she grabbed the travel package of disinfectant wipes to clean off her little home away from home for the next few hours.

“Oh, that’s a smart idea,” he smirked admiring her tidiness.

“I think Covid taught me that airplanes are one of the most disgusting places on the planet.”

He chuckled. “I suppose s’fair,” he nodded in agreement. “D’you have an extra one?” He asked. She nodded and held the little package out to her row-mate. He took two and repeated her routine to clean. The air vent, the tray table, the belt buckle and arm rest. He used the second to wipe down his headphones, phone, and book with a quick swipe. She held out a little sandwich bag she used for trash while on the plane. “Y’must fly a lot,” he smirked at her preparedness.

“Used to,” she took a deep breath. “I still get kind of nervous.”

“Honestly, would think y’were not human if y’didn’t get nervous.”

The announcements were being made and she focused on the flight attendants and their safety demonstration. Well, tried to. The man beside her was so handsome it was like he demanded to be stared at; it was hard not to comply to such a silent request. He looked effortlessly comfortable and so attractive it was unfair. But maybe it was those stupid airport goggles making her fall in love with someone relatively close to her age and perhaps he was only a little hot.

But as he reached for the air vent again, his sweatshirt sleeve slid down his wrist so that her eyes darted to his forearm and landed on the tattoo on the inside of his arm. It wasn’t even something she would qualify as a sexy tattoo, but it was there. As it appeared in her vision, all her dignity, self-respect, and thought of him being only a little hot, flew right out the window.

Stupid men.

The plane jolted a little as it started its take-off, making her gasp and she gripped the armrest tight. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as it settled into its rhythm. The final announcement that the ascent was going to begin came through the speaker and the plane got quiet as it always did at that time. “Hey, love?”

It was pathetic she recognized his voice already. Pathetic that she was going to respond to the little pet name. They had barely spoken. But the two little words were soft and sexy. In a gentle kind of way. She peeked out of one eye to glance at him. She swallowed thickly around the nerves. “Uh... yeah?”

“I can hold your hand, if y’want. S’just a tight grip y’got on m’arm,” it was so gentle. He didn’t even sound annoyed or pained. She gasped again, released his arm from her goddamn death grip, and covered her mouth. How fucking embarrassing. She didn’t even notice.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“No, s’fine,” he assured her, his smile was so kind. Like she was a wounded bird that he found after it flew into the window. “Here,” he offered pulling her hand from her mouth and laced their fingers together. “M’not a fan of takeoff either,” he explained giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Did he feel how perfectly their hands fit together? Or did she imagine it? These airplane goggles were thick as hell. She was fucked when she got off the plane and never saw him again. They were silent during the remainder of the ascent and once the bell signaled that they could unbuckle, the pilot announced they were at cruising altitude, Harry gave her hand a squeeze again before releasing it.

“Thank you,” the sincerity in his voice made her blush and she was glad it was dark on the plane and the flight would remain dark. Because if she had to see how pretty his face was for the whole flight, she wasn’t going to make it. It was unfair that someone so handsome was seated next to her and she would never see him again. Someone who was thanking her for holding her hand. After she tried to rip his arm hair out.

Did his hand feel cold? Her hand felt cold. It was so ridiculous she just wanted to scream.

She had the worst luck.

*

Harry had the best luck. The pretty girl from the gate was in the same row as him. He got to hold her hand. The flight was only five or so hours long and the thought of it being delayed was miserable. But there she was looking so unbelievably beautiful.

There’s a REALLY pretty girl at my gate. He texted Mitch the second he saw her.

You better not be creepy. Sarah says there’s NOTHING worse than a guy being creepy at the airport.

I’m not going to make my soulmate uncomfortable. I’m just going to ask her every question that pops into my head to get to know her, and then ask how many kids she wants to have with me.

...Best of luck to her.

I’m probably not even going to talk to her :( She looks busy and what are the chances she’ll be sitting next to me? There’s no way I have that kind of luck.

But Harry did have that luck it seemed. The pretty girl was tucked into their row against the window, her head resting against the side of the plane. She was clean, organized, and adorable. He liked how she spoke to the flight attendant. Like she was a hinderance by being a passenger. It was sweet and he admired her kindness and thoughtfulness. She was so grateful when Harry handed her the little bag of pretzels and the drink she got.

“Reading something good?” She asked quietly.

Harry smiled and held it out to her so she could read the back cover. “Something m’sister recommended.”

She intently read the words on the back and nodded. “I think I’m going to add it to my never-ending list.”

God, he wanted to say he could give it to her when he was finished. But he was never going to see her again. So maybe he didn’t have the luck he hoped he did. “How ‘bout you?”

“Um...” she smiled. “It’s nothing... intelligent. It’s a brain-rotting romance thing. I don’t know, I like to read trashy stuff on the plane. Take my mind off it and everything else.”

“I see,” he didn’t ask Gemma a lot of questions, but he knew that meant it was filled with spicy romantic scenes that he could only dream about with someone as pretty as her. But that would be what Sarah called creepy, so he pushed that thought away quickly. “M’not a huge e-book person.”

“They’re good for travel,” she smiled. “I love bookstores, and I think I could build a whole house out of the books I have or want to buy. But traveling... it’s nice to have something compact. But I bought a book at the convenience store before we left. Which is so dumb because the mark up is like an extra ten dollars and I could have gotten it for free on this thing but the Wi-Fi is a bit of a problem sometimes, like I can’t get my new book to—” She paused as Harry listened intently. It was so disarming listening to her talk about books and her e-reader. It was adorable. Her eyes, even in the faint glow from the emergency airplane lights, were lit with excitement. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

“No!” He frowned, shaking his head hurriedly. He immediately missed the excitement in her eyes. “Y’weren’t. I never thought ‘bout how the traveling is easier with it. I had t’forgo a whole outfit t’get m’books in m’bag.”

She smiled and sipped her drink. “I always do that. Except I’m sure you felt how heavy my bag was, I didn’t do it this time. I told myself I wasn’t going to overpack and I just couldn’t do it.”

“M’sister has a hard time with it too.”

“It’s impossible, I think. Especially for an event, you know?”

Was Harry still smiling? He couldn’t stop smiling. She just had this air about her. The air between them was vibrating and it wasn’t because of turbulence. She had to feel it, right? Harry couldn’t be imagining this electric feeling that was pulsing between them. They were just sitting there, staring at each other.

“Can I say something crazy?” He asked.

“Crazy? Are you planning on murdering me?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I jus’...” he paused and scanned her face memorizing the moment wondering how on earth he could meet her again. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to have a plane ride back with her. But there couldn’t be that much good luck. “This is a bit...” he trailed off and he chuckled. His face was only inches from hers. She bit her lip.

“Yeah... it is.”

“S’crazy, right?”

She nodded. “It is,” she whispered back.

“Hi,” he said quietly, a smile growing on his face.

“Hi,” she giggled.

*

When the plane began its descent, he held her hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. It made her stomach flutter. As they left their little row, her heart hammered in her chest. How unfair it was that she would never see him again. He grabbed her bag from the compartment above and he walked with her all the way to baggage claim. They chatted a little more. Smiling and giggling. She didn’t even realize he was still holding her hand.

At least the airport goggles were working both ways it seemed.

“You let me go on and on about overpacking and you checked a bag?” He smirked, grabbed her hand again and led her toward the rideshare pickup spot. “Can I say something crazy?”

“Are y’planning on murdering me?” He asked.

“You felt it right?”

“Felt what?” The smile melted off her face and she dropped his hand like it burned her. “Whoa, hey,” he laughed and snagged it quick into his again. “S’bad joke,” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. “Course I felt it.”

She looked at her feet. The seconds felt like hours as she looked for something to say. “I don’t know where to go from here,” she frowned looking back at him.

“Yeah...” He sighed. “It’s...” he sighed. There was so much he wanted to say. So much she wanted to tell him. They needed more time, more space.

She wanted to live on that plane.

Harry wanted to stay at that airport.

She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him. It was crazy. Outlandish. Ridiculous. She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing his skin. He smiled on her mouth making her want to melt. His hand found her lower back, pulled her closer because in just sneakers she couldn’t reach his lips completely. With her firmly in his embrace, he nipped at her lower lip. It was so sinful she shivered.

The honking interrupted their moment, pulling each other apart. “I have to go,” she whispered looking at the Uber that matched the license plate listed on her phone.

“I know.”

“Hi,” she whispered with a quiet laugh.

“Hi.”

“It was... really nice meeting you,” her smile was so goddamn pretty it was going to make Harry cry.

“It was nice meeting you, love,” he answered. Safely tucked her into the back of the cab. She unrolled the window.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry,” he said.

“Harry,” she repeated. “Nice meeting you, Harry.”

*

“You have outdone yourself,” she smiled as she turned. The woman before her had a stunning smile, her hair half pinned, her white silk pajamas shimmering in the light. “They’re stunning.”

“You’re one to talk, I’d give you a hug but I don’t want to mess anything up,” she wrinkled her nose. “You love them?” She asked.

“I love them. They might upstage me.”

“I sincerely doubt it. You look stunning already.”

“Do you hate me for not making you a bridesmaid?”

“God, no,” she shook her head. “I’m more of a behind the scenes kind of person anyway. If you need anything today, I’m your girl,” she promised. “I was too far away,” she shrugged.

“Don’t remind me,” she frowned. “These flowers are the things of dreams. You are the best,” she sighed dreamily. “Can I see my bouquet?” Her frown quickly turned into a smile again. “I’ve been dreaming about it.”

She went to the bucket that was at the edge of what would be the ceremony floor and pulled the bouquet from it. She felt so proud and happy with the arrangement she made for one of her long-time best friends. “Seph,” she smiled. “You look beautiful,” she reminded her.

Persephone grinned admiring the bouquet. “You’re incredible... How was your flight? Other than delayed?”

“It was...” she tried to think about anything but the color green. “Good.”

“Oh?” Seph’s perfectly plucked eyebrow arched suspiciously “How good? Did you join the mile high club?”

“Oh my God, Persephone, of course not.”

“Well, you don’t say good like that if he’s not cute.”

A slight pause as she looked at the ceiling and then back at her friend. “He was really cute.”

“You’re a walking Hallmark movie.”

“That’s literally how I felt.” They giggled then she sighed thinking about the kiss she shared with a stranger. It was so unlike her to get all in a twist about a guy she just met. This wasn’t normal. It was like she was still in the airport. There were so many things they didn’t talk about. So many things she didn’t know about him and never would. It was unfair and yet she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she was still flying. Shaking her head, she turned to her friend once more. “Alright, I have to finish these flower arrangements. Not sure if you know this, but there’s a wedding happening here tonight.”

“Sorry about your airplane man, babe,” Seph squeezed her shoulder.

“Hey, no frowns. It’s your wedding day,” she turned back to the table she was working on before her friend’s interruption. “I think some moments are meant to just... exist in that moment.”

*

Harry had thought about only three things that day. Breathing, cake, and of course the beautiful girl he met on the plane.

You KISSED her?! Sarah asked.

I know... I’ve never met anyone like her.

That’s a real bummer, Harry, honestly. It was and Sarah was right. At first, he was joking, but now he was certain she was his soulmate, and he just let her go. But what choice did he have? Yes, there was the feeling of his heart beating faster. The excitement of making her laugh. But there was the calmness, the tranquility of being beside her. Holding her hand.

Maybe it was morbid, but Harry was certain he was looking for someone to hold his hand if the plane were to go down and maybe that’s what a soulmate really was.

It was easy. Easy to talk to her, make her laugh. It was easy to get to know her and he didn’t even know anything about her. He didn’t know where she was from, what she did, where she was going, but he just knew that she was his and he let her go. There were too many variables. Too many things he couldn’t control.

“Harry, you almost done?”

“Jus’ putting the finishing touches,” he mumbled.

“We’re going to be late!”

“They won’t start without us,” he rolled his eyes.

“If there is a speck of—”

“I’m clean, I’m clean,” he shook his head, coming to the other room and brushing his hands along his coat. “Let’s get married, yeah?”

*

The maid of honor talked about how lucky the pair of them were to find one another. How there were an infinite number of opportunities for them to not have met but there was this special moment destined for each other. Where Persephone would walk into the library to sit in her favorite study spot and if she wasn’t so superstitious she would have just found another table.

But instead, she walked right up to the table, told her future husband he was in her spot, and she was preparing for an exam, and she wouldn’t let him use her favorite seat.

The best man spoke about how he was actually destined to be with the groom for forever and ever which made the entire place laugh.

But talk of luck and destiny just made her feel miserable on the inside. If she asked for his number or where he lived, it would be hours from where she lived. She would be devastated. A kiss was a good ending to her little story. That would suffice.

Maybe he already had a girlfriend. That would work too. Something to make her feel like a horrible person and lessen the blow that her soulmate was somewhere out there never to be seen again. Harry was just a guy that held her hand on a plane and talked about books with her for hours so she wouldn’t be scared. Someone that split his snacks with her even though she didn’t know him.

No. She couldn’t think about him. She had to stop thinking about him. It wasn’t good for her brain or her heart.

It was a beautiful ceremony. That’s what she needed to focus on. Persephone was a gorgeous bride and the event was just... perfect. “I think I’ve given your name and number to just about every single woman here,” Seph said sliding into a seat beside her and kissed her cheek.

She laughed. “Well thank you,” she smiled. “Let me see,” she held her hand out for the one with her new jewelry and she admired the pretty diamond that glimmered alongside the new band of diamonds below it. “Everything is beautiful.”

“This place is beautiful because of you. Just like you said.”

“Oh... it was beautiful before. I just added to it.”

“I didn’t see it though. It’s a bargain if you can envision it like this. I seriously wouldn’t have picked it without you saying you’d do the flowers,” Seph explained. “You saw so much more than I did.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a place on earth that doesn’t benefit from flowers.”

“Well, thank you,” she squeezed her hand. “I wouldn’t be having a wonderful day without you. I know it was a lot to travel out here and—”

“No, no. Don’t even. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Flowers or no flowers.”

Persephone grinned. “Well... in other news... do you see anyone as cute as your airplane man? Lerone has a lot of single friends.”

She smirked and shook her head. “No offense, Seph, but there is no one that’s going to be as cute as my airplane guy.”

“No one?”

Her head snapped up to the voice that she had already planned on dreaming about for the rest of her life. Her eyes met the same green gaze she had the pleasure of looking at for five hours while chatting about books and whispering about nothing of importance (but it all seemed important at the time). There was no way. She didn’t have this kind of luck. If there was a squeaky carriage at the grocery store she was sure to pick it. There was no way that—

“Hi Harry!” Persephone smiled. “Do you two know each other?”

“Something like that,” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Hi,” Harry grinned at her.

She cleared her throat, adrenaline flowing through her body. “Hi,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Harry baked our cake. He went to school with Lerone.”

“Oh,” she swallowed.

“And I heard y’did all the work with these pretty flowers,” Harry smiled.

“She’s like the flower queen,” Persephone giggled.

“I see.”

There was a pause while they stared at each other. Harry grinning like a madman, he was sure. But she was stunning. A floral dress draped her body, her hair half pinned up. She was so pretty. Somehow even prettier than the way she looked on the airplane and Harry was certain she could never be prettier than the moment she sat next to him.

“Hi,” she laughed.

“Hi,” he chuckled.

“Of all the gin joints.”

Harry took a seat beside her. Persephone had moved onto the next table and yet, she hadn’t even noticed. “I haven’t stopped thinking ‘bout you, love,” he grabbed her hand. “Been thinking ‘bout the plane, y’e-reader, and that earth-shattering kiss.”

Her cheeks heated up and Harry reached out to brush his thumb on her cheek. “This is insane,” she whispered.

“I know,” he agreed.

“I don’t have luck like this,” she explained. “I’m the kind of person that has their luggage get lost. Or my coat will snag on the doorknob. If I didn’t want to be paired with someone in a group project in high school, I could guarantee I was going to be in their group.”

“Y’think it’s lucky you’re meeting me?” He practically wiggled his eyebrows. Trying to sound egotistical but all it did was make her fall harder for him.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Well...yeah,” she swallowed. “I mean... what else am I supposed to call it?”

“It doesn’t have t’be luck. Can jus’ be meeting you.”

“I don’t think it works that way for me.”

“Can I dance with you?” He asked.

“I’m not very good and I think there’s a good chance I’ll step on your toes and—”

Harry was already helping her stand and tugging her to the dance floor. She did step on his toes, not hard, but her quiet “sorry” was lost on Harry. It felt perfect to hold her in his arms. One hand in his, her other at the back of his neck, his free hand on the small of her back. They fit like puzzle pieces. “A florist, hmm?” He hummed right by her ear.

“A baker?” She replied.

He chuckled. “What are the chances?”

*

“D’you have any idea how good y’look?” He groaned. She was in just a T-shirt. Harry’s T-shirt. He propped his head in his hand as he looked at her laying in his bed. His finger skimming just below the hem of the shirt. It barely touched her thighs and the only thing that stood in his way was a scrap of fabric she called underwear.

She giggled. “Back at you.”

“This is insane,” he smiled and pressed his lips to hers.

“It is,” she whispered.

If all her bad luck had been to make this weekend happen, she was forever grateful. This was worth it. Harry was worth it. “When’s your flight?”

“Quarter of five. When’s yours?”

“The same, of course.”

She smiled and tucked her face into his chest. “How far away are you from my shop?”

“Only ‘bout a half hour drive,” he told her. “Why?”

“Just... wondering.”

“Jus’ want t’know how much time and distance is between you and a toe-curling orgasm?”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I wasn’t talking ‘bout you,” he peppered a line of kisses down the side of her face and along her neck, down the curve of her shoulder, even when the T-shirt got in the way. “You are so pretty,” he mumbled pulling at his shirt to touch her soft skin and curves. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so pretty.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, I’d remember you,” he smiled pressing his lips to her collarbone. He pulled the shirt off her and he brushed his thumbs across her nipples softly. Making them perk up more than they already were with the cold air from the room and no barrier between her. “Definitely remember this,” he mumbled into her skin.

“I have to pack,” she whispered but her voice was air and her resolve wasn’t there.

“Put it in m’checked bag,” his lips were occupied by one of her nipples making it extremely difficult for her to concentrate. “Jus’ shove everything in there. Then s’a promise I’ll see y’after we land.”

Her heart fluttered. “You want to see me again?”

He popped his head up from licking at her like she was candy. The air was even chillier against the sensitive skin without Harry’s warm mouth wrapped around her. “M’sorry, was I not clear?”

She smirked. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about airport goggles.”

“Airport goggles?” He repeated.

“I have really bad luck, Harry. I just worry that the idea of me in an airport because I’m roughly your age... or like, you know airplane food is a real thing? Not just a joke? Something about the altitude messing with your tastebuds or something. So maybe this is all an illusion, is what I’m saying. Maybe I am really unlucky because when we get back to our real life we won’t have airport goggles and—”

“Kitten,” he chuckled and rubbed his thumb across her lip. “Shh,” he whispered and pressed a soft kiss on her mouth.

“I’m just saying—”

“I know,” he rolled his eyes. “I hear you. But m’telling you, there’s no such thing as airport goggles. Even if there are, m’never taking them off.”

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