#i think being able to do this will fix me... what a small and dainty little creature

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

>> macheenzui

[bloggingnsfw]

Saved by my Minotaur *smut part 2*

Warning: Smut, Monster, Minotaur, (if I didn't list any please let me know)

for the full thing go to my Ao3 search: Saved by my minotaur (WILL BE POSTED 12/16/2023 @ 5:30 EST)

part 3

Your eyes grew wet, lazy tears creeping out the sides of your eyelids.

“Milk Mouth?”

“I’m fine.” she hiccupped. “Confused and frazzled and upset and wanting...”

“Sure?”

Nettle’s wrappings fell mostly back into place, looser than before. Your nipples tenting up within the fabric. She weakly nodded. “This has been a bad night for me. I don’t blame you but then again, I do. I was perfectly fine before. Cleaning. Bribing. Having structure in the enclave. I’d never wanted to be outside ever again. And you’ve brought me you. And I love it. Stop being nice. You’re confusing me.”

“Confuse too, I.” Ogrum said, thoughtful. “But this feels right. Feels good.”

“We’ve been to get you less than two hours. Far too early to make a call like that. You’d probably get wichelen killed in a cave-in with snap judgements like that.”

Ogrum smiled, teeth and dimples a perfect sight.

“Longer than that.”

“Metaphorically, you mean.” You asked. “I don’t know you.”

“You do.”

Just the way he said it, stated it, like she ought have known exactly what he meant.

“I’d remember being friendly with a minotaur!” You exclaimed. “And again, are you sure I’m the one you’re looking for? We Nettles may all share the same name but are not alike. Now don’t tell anyone this. We Nettles use nicknames among ourselves. Perhaps you’re looking for my superior, Thorne? Or Selander, my bunk-mate? Hard-working Nettles you’d be cursed to find else you.”

“Nettle.” Ogrum said slowly. “Viri. Mil-Ip. Milk Mouth.”

“Viri? How do you know that my nickname is Viri! How on Surfeit could you have gotten that information! A spy. Is this some sort of Youo plot!” You shouted. “I knew it. You’re with the humans! I’m not a hostage but a captive. A victim for you to... to torture for more information!”

Ogrum simply sat tyoue with that dumb look on his face. Smugness with a hint of something she didn’t like the shape of. He was… humoring you. Letting you throw you well-fought accusations at him.

“And Mil-Ip? Is that some sort of code? Mil-Ip? Mil-Ip? It almost sounds like-”

Nettle’s voice trailed away, leaving behind a horrified silence.

“It almost sounds like Milk Lips. No,” she rambled, face burning. “Milky Lips. Dear spite, this whole night was my fault! But it couldn’t be. You couldn’t be glory rod mark four. They’re just fuck-sticks that Witch Horehound likes to torture people she doesn’t like with. They don’t actually sync up with real cocks...”

“Strange names you called me. Grew to it over time.” Ogrum answered. She prayed he wouldn’t say what she imagined would come next. “Pretty Pussy Pounder.” You winced. “Double-Dicking Destroyer.” Oh spite. “Cunt-Claiming Conqueror.” Ivy came up with that one, not you! “But my favorite and your favorite was-” Couldn’t you heart just crack? Like right now. “Big Drip.”

Ogrum laughed, shaking You she hid between your hands.

“I said those things because I didn’t think that a fuck-stick was able to comprehend those names! Stop smiling, you jerk. So I was sucking you off, so what!”

“Your wording. Mil-kie Lid-ps. The right name. Been calling you Milk Mouth whole time. Mistake. Milky Lips and Big Drip. Funny, yes?”

“Funny for you, maybe.”

“Suppose so. Honored to have witch mare.” Ogrum nodded then turned his head. “Earlier. Wanted to fix wrappings, yes? So much wrapping for so dainty small breasts. Can fix.”

“Edoh.”

“Yes.” the minotaur’s ears twitched. “Fix breasts.” He had that smug look again. “Heard. Heard clear.”

Ogrum moved against you, his nipples pushing straight onto you breasts and knocking against your buds. You squirmed; arms lightly brushed out of the way. He began to rock back and forth, his roughout nipples clapping on you fairer ones. Pushing hard and certain until they stiffened, tingling under his girth. He exhaled onto the curve between your mounds, the steam blackish with a magic glow.

The saliva lingering tyoue began to grow thick, bubbling into a whiter stickier form.

You experimentally took a glob onto your finger. “Taurine vigor. This stuff is rare.” she remarked, ever the pragmatic Wichelen. “Did you know that just a cap full can go for a hundred aulra. Only a cap!”

[tex-treasure-chamber]

About Gellert- musings regarding him and Stellaria

Stellaria absolutely loathes Gellert. Would risk jailtime to cast avada cadavra on him just to rid the world of his existence. Thinks he's nothing but pestilence. Gellert hates her because she had the "audacity" to break his nose.

To be fair to Stellaria she did it to get info on where he was hiding Graves- if Gellert hadn't maliciously taunted her, if he had just told her the info she needed, then she would've just Apparated immediately. He's hauled away to jail with a bloody nose nobody lifts a finger to fix and because it takes so damn long, when it finally DOES get tended to its already set as a crooked little thing on his otherwise ethereal face.

It's so funny to me thinking of Stellaria seeing Gellert later rise to social power enough to possibly be the next Supreme leader only for him to pause when he sees Stellaria. He's never been punched by a woman before, and since she broke his nose, he's sworn to never let it happen again. He's not afraid of her- he isn't afraid of anyone, let alone a woman, but he certain is wary.

He sees Graves isn't there (he's understandibly hanging back, still haunted by being his prisoner) and doesn't try to hide his smirk from Stellaria. "Oh, hello Miss Barerra." He says in mock politeness. "Did you ever find Mr. Graves?"

Stellaria smiles sweetly, as sweet as cyanide, one hand noticeably curling into a tight fist. "That's Mrs. Graves to you," she answers, her dainty lips curling into a sneer, "Do tell, how's your nose? Shame, looks like it did'nt get fixed in time but at least whenever anyone looks at you they'll be able to see just how crooked you are."

Gellert grins- to a magizoologist like Stellaria, she knows what it really is but she isn't phased. She's faced down creatures more dangerous than him. "Congratulations." Gellert deadpans before adding curiously and somewhat maliciously, "Where is your husband?" He makes a grand show of looking around, "I don't see him."

Stellaria bares her teeth back at him, eyes on his jugular. "And you never will."

He scoffs softly, something wicked shining in his eyes. "Pity... Would've been so nice to catch up."

Stellaria trembles like a volcano desperately trying to withhold it's magma. "I do wonder..." She muses, head tilted as she unflinchingly meets his cold stare. "If you had to pick only one of your eyes to keep, would you pick the blue or the brown?"

Neither of them speak, tense and ready to either throw a punch or pull out a wand, but then Albus walks in as he always does when he's not wanted or needed and Stellaria, seeing the opportunity to leave, doesn't hesitate to turn and stalk back to her husband, muttering darkly to herself.

Graves melts in relief when he sees her- he hadn't approved of her approaching Gellert whatsoever but whenever Stellaria wanted something, by the stars, she was going to get it come Hell or high water. He can see the anger on her face as well as an undercurrent of fear in her eyes and he wastes no time in wrapping her up and pressing her into his side.

"You okay, Pumpkin?" He murmurs as he guides her back to Newt who's excitedly rambling to a party goer, oblivious the gentleman isn't interested in listening about Crupp breeding and recessive genetics but that's okay because he's interested and knows Stellaria will be too.

Stellaria rests her head against his chest, just enough that she can hear his heartbeat and his lungs expanding with air. She closes her eyes briefly and a small, genuine smile blooms across her face. "I am now."

[ticklishraspberries]

An Accident (Alina/Genya)

Summary: Alina and Genya are more than friends. It leads to late night talks and ticklish discoveries. (For Day #2, "Accidental" of Tickletober!! Very small warning for mentions of hickies. Like, just their presence, not the process of giving them. Still, thought I'd mention it.)

Genya’s touch is gentle, barely there as her fingertips ghost Alina’s skin, attempting to tailor away the purple mark that had been kissed onto her collarbone just a few hours before.

“At least I can always erase the marks I leave,” she jokes.

Alina chuckles, shaking her head fondly. “It’s a very useful talent.”

It still fascinates her to watch other Grisha work, to try and pick up on their methods, their skills. Alina is still learning to use her powers, at a much slower rate than she’d like, but Genya is a master of her craft. Of course, Genya had been forced to learn at an unforgiving pace. She had been taken from her family at a young age and made into a servant, rather than being able to explore her gift freely.

Alina knows she wouldn’t trade the childhood she had away from the Little Palace, even for the greatest power imaginable. So, she doesn’t speak her envy aloud, afraid to bring up bad memories for Genya, the girl who had made her feel so welcome when she’d arrived, who protected her from those with cruel intentions. Who fixed her hair and kissed her skin and shared her knowledge with no expectation in return.

Her eyes are focused on Genya’s hands, pale and dainty, not a scar or blemish in sight. She’s watching closely, but it doesn’t prepare her for the sensation as Genya’s well-kept nails swipe across her neck, making her gasp and pull away.

Genya’s blue eyes widened in surprise. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” she asks.

Heat rises in Alina’s cheeks. “Not at all. It just tickled,” she explains. Normally, she would never admit a weakness so easily. Mal is the only person who knows that she’s ticklish, the only person to ever exploit it. But she trusts Genya, and realizes that it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Genya were to use the knowledge against her.

But Genya only smiles fondly, and tucks some of Alina’s dark hair behind her ear. “Cute,” she says. “I’d explore this further, but you have training to attend, and this bruise hasn't fully faded.”

“I’m sure it could pass for an injury,” Alina replies.

“Everyone here loves to gossip. Even if it were an injury, they’d still be placing bets on who gave it to you,” she says. With a few more fluid motions of her fingers, the hickey is gone.

“There we go. All better.”

Alina smiles. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Though, next time, perhaps I should do that somewhere out of sight, so you can keep it,” Genya practically whispers, grinning. “To remember me by, of course.”

Alina laughs, both flattered and embarrassed. “Perhaps you should,” she replies.

After a long day of training, Alina returns to her room, exhausted and defeated. Time and time again, she’s failed to use her powers unless The Darkling amplifies her. It’s disheartening, and at times, humiliating. While some revere her as a Saint, those who watch her work know she is nothing of the sort.

As she sits, restless in her quarters, she finds that her mind will not settle, and throws on a robe, in search of the one person who listens without judgment, the person who will kiss her worries away.

Genya’s expression softens the moment Alina enters, easily sensing her frustration. She beckons Alina into her arms and hugs her tightly.

“Bad day?” she asks.

“Terrible,” Alina replies. “Baghra is so disappointed in me. Everyone is.”

“I’m not disappointed in you at all,” Genya replies. “I think you’re brilliant.”

Alina scoffs. “Please, you have to say that. You’re my…” she trails off, unsure of what exactly they are. Friends, who sometimes sneak off to do the sorts of things that friends certainly don’t do?

Genya interrupts before she can settle on a word. “I don’t have to say anything. Power doesn’t come to fruition in a day. You’ve had a late start. You’ve spent so long suppressing it, denying it. It’s no wonder it struggles to come out, even now.”

She strokes Alina’s cheek. “Everyone here has struggled with their power. Nadia, me, even The Darkling himself. I believe you will be an incredibly talented, powerful Grisha one day. But for now, you just need practice.”

Alina leans into her touch happily, smiling beneath the praise. “How do you always know what to say?”

“I’ve got brains as well as beauty,” Genya replies easily, and they both laugh.

Alina feels lighter now. Like the weight of her day has been lifted, and she sighs, leaning into Genya’s arms and resting her head upon her shoulder. The comfortable silence is soon interrupted as Genya reaches up to run a single finger down the side of Alina’s neck, making her giggle and scrunch up.

“It wasn’t an accident this time,” the redhead teases, and Alina squeals as Genya finds each sensitive spot along her body, from neck to knee. The encouraging words mixed with familiar, playful affection leaves Alina’s day feeling like more of a success than a failure by the time she heads back to her room, flushed cheeks and a few new bruises, hidden beneath her clothes this time.

[thebluewritingbench]

if you’re still taking prompts, can you do happiness #1?

Before we launch into 6b next week, here's a small fantasy of a scene that I wish the cw would give us. Happiness #1 from this prompt list again.

“I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“Alex calls it The Honesty Policy.”

Lena takes the mug of hot chocolate Kara offers, cradling it between her hands. “The Honesty Policy?” she asks, as Kara sits down on the couch beside her.

“I imagine Kelly probably fed it to her,” Kara says. “But she was helping me try to figure out how we could get ourselves… well, back to normal, after everything, and she was really insistent that this one was worth a try.”

“What is it?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. No more secrets,” Kara says, tapping her own collarbone, then fixing her gaze pointedly on Lena. “No more lying. We tell each other things. We’re honest. We trust each other with our secrets.”

Lena nods, looking down into her mug of hot chocolate. The dim lights of Kara’s loft glow orange across her cheekbones, and in the silence, the sounds of late-night passing cars rumble up from the street below. It’s the first time they’ve really spent time truly alone together since… well everything.

There’s still a lot of awkwardness between them; turns out secrets and betrayal and double-crossing—and the fact that forgiveness was barely hatching between them when Kara was banished to the phantom zone—will do that to a friendship. There was the initial hug, of course, after Kara was rescued, when Lena wrapped her arms around Kara and buried her face in Kara’s neck and held her so tightly that Kara was certain she’d never let go, her breath coming in ragged gasps and her whole body quivering. It was somewhat surreal, the warm shock of having Lena in her arms after so many months, her hair against Kara’s cheek, the muted scent of her shampoo. They’d sank to the floor, still holding each as the ship creaked around them, and stayed there for god knows how long in each other arms.

But since then, since that initial wordless embrace that felt as much like coming home as anything, they haven’t known what to say to each other. They work together easily enough, the animosity between Supergirl and Lena finally gone, but it’s more difficult when they’re just Kara and Lena. They’ve forgiven each other, Kara thinks. Or at least agreed to forgive each other, even if there’s still work to be done. But it’s weird. It’s not like they can snap straight back into how things were before.

Hence The Honesty Policy.

“Okay,” Lena says finally. “Yes. No more secrets. A clean start.”

A clean start. It’s what they need, after an entire friendship where one or the other of them has been hiding things. For the first time, everything between them will be out in the open. Nothing left to hide.

It’s oddly freeing.

Kara takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “So, where do we start?”

“Start?”

“I think we should have just an honest conversation. I don’t want this to be awkward anymore, I want to be able to talk to you like we used to. So, in the interest of honesty, tell me something you’ve never told me before. It doesn’t have to be big—” she adds hurriedly, when Lena’s eyes widen in alarm. “Something small. Something tiny you’ve never had reason to tell me.”

Lena nods slowly, thinking. “In the interest of honesty…” she starts. “In the interest of honesty, I… I really think that those bangs were a mistake.”

Kara makes a noise of offended disbelief in the back of her throat. “I—Rude!”

“You said to be honest!” Lena says, biting her lip like she’s holding back a laugh. “They’re growing out now, anyways. It looks much better.”

Kara gives her bangs a self-conscious pat. They’re still at a slightly awkward length, but they’re long enough to blend in semi-decently with the rest of her hair now. “If we’re being honest, then,” she says. “I think that blouse is really ugly.”

Lena looks down at herself. She sounds slightly hurt when she says, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Everything! It’s��the pattern! The sleeves! The collar! It looks like it’s made of cheap polyester.”

“It’s designer!” Lena pouts.

“Who designed it?”

“Well, I thought that blazer you wore last week was kind of hideous. I didn’t say anything at the time, but in the interest of honesty…”

Kara laughs, and Lena’s irritated expression melts away at her laughter, something in her eyes softening. It’s an expression Kara’s been seeing on her more often, in moments she catches Lena watching her when she thinks Kara isn’t paying attention.

She’s always paying attention to Lena.

“Maybe we should just agree to say that we both have questionable fashion taste sometimes and call it a day,” she says, downing the rest of her hot chocolate and placing the mug on the table.

Lena takes a dainty sip of her own still mostly filled mug. “Fine.”

There’s a long pause, and Kara taps her fingers on her pant leg and tries to think of a new conversation starter. She finally settles on. “In the interest of honesty… how are you holding up?”

Lena shrugs. “I’m okay, I suppose. I’m anxious about Lex—I know it’s only a matter of time before he’s back on our heels. Mostly, I’m just glad to have you back.” She looks over her mug at Kara. “I think that’s more a question I should be asking you, though.”

The look of intense concern in Lena’s eyes makes her feel hot, and Kara squirms slightly, pulling her collar away from her neck with a finger. She wants to say I’m fine, but honesty is the whole point of this exercise. “I’m… still not great. Being back there it… brought up a lot. Brought back a lot. I’m still having a really hard time with it all. It’s—it’s hard to talk about.”

“We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“I want to talk about with you at some point. I just… don’t want it to ruin every conversation I have, you know? I want some things to be normal, still. I want to pretend things can be normal.”

“That makes sense,” Lena nods. She looks small when she says, “In the—in the interest of honesty, are you still mad?”

“At you?” Lena nods again, and Kara sighs, looking away. “It’s complicated, I guess. A little, maybe? I meant it when I said I forgave you, but there’s still part of me that’s a little angry. You did a lot of things that were… really bad, Lena.”

“I know.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Kara asks, and Lena’s shaking her head before she even finishes the question.

“No. No, I’m done being mad at you. I get it. I get why you hid your identity, and I wish you’d told me sooner, but I’m not angry anymore. I don’t have enough energy to be angry anymore. I’m happier if I don’t hate you.”

“Well, I’m glad for that.”

“I would have done anything to get you back, you know,” Lena says in a rush, words spilling out like she can’t stop them. “You say I did bad things before, but I would have watched the world burn if it meant I could have brought you back.” She looks down at her lap. “Who knows what I would have done if Alex hadn’t been there to stop me.”

“Lena.” Kara reaches over to take her hand. “You know I can’t possibly be mad at you for that.”

“No?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay,” Lena whispers. Kara watches her swirl around the dregs of her hot chocolate and takes a deep breath.

There’s still one more secret between them. One more secret that has the potential to ruin their friendship. Kara thinks they’re both aware of it, on some level. Aware of the way the weight of it shifts their every interaction. The others are aware of it too, have maybe known longer than Kara has. Alex certainly has. It was she who looked Kara in the eye when they were discussing this whole honestly policy and said, “You have to tell her this. You know you do.”

She can’t risk another secret in their relationship.

“Um, in the interest of honesty,” she starts, and finds she can’t quite meet Lena’s eyes. “I have to tell you—in all honesty, I would probably just keep it a secret, if I could, but I don’t think we should do secrets anymore, so I just need to tell you that I, um, have feelings for you.”

Lena straightens. “Feelings?” she says, her voice cautious.

Kara closes her eyes. Takes a breath. Steadies herself. Opens them again. “I’m in love with you,” she says. “Um, nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, but I need… I need you to know.”

“Oh,” breathes Lena. She opens her mouth, and it seem to take several moments for the words to catch up with her. “Well, in—in the interest of honesty, Kara, I’ve—I’ve been in love with you for years.” She gives a wry little half smile. “If we’re being honest.”

“What? You have?”

“Darling,” says Lena. “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

“The day we met?”

“Why do you think it hurt me so badly when I found out who you were? Why do you think I was so deep in denial about it that I never figured it out myself? Do you really think you were that good at hiding it?”

“I mean, I thought—”

“The disguise. The hair. The glasses.” She puts down her mug, then reaches over and gently tugs the glasses from Kara’s face, folding the arms in and placing them on the table. She brushes a strand of hair behind Kara’s ear. “You mentioned Supergirl far too much as Kara and Kara far too much as Supergirl and one time you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

“That’s—yeah, that’s fair, actually.”

“You’re in love with me? Honestly?” whispers Lena.

“I am. I really, truly am. Why do you think I refused to give up on you when everyone else was ready to?”

“I thought that just how you are. You don’t give up on anyone.”

“I try not to. But you, I could never bear to, even when it seemed like the only logical option to everyone else. Why do you think I waited so long to tell you in the first place? I was so scared to ruin things between us.”

“Why do you think I bought you an entire media empire?” Lena murmurs, and she’s so close, hand fisted in the collar of Kara’s shirt.

Kara giggles. “Why do you think I flew all over Europe to get you lunch?”

Lena laughs, and it’s such a relief to hear her laughter again, to let the conversation flow between them. There’s a bud of hope for the future that’s been sitting in Kara’s chest for years now, and under Lena’s adoring gaze, it starts to open.

“In all honesty,” Kara says, “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Lena slips a hand into her hair, runs her thumb over Kara’s cheekbone. “In all honesty?” She leans in, pressing their foreheads together. “I’d like that.”

[spikesbimbo]

Mood Swings

Summary: Daddy’s little girl always gets what she wants < 3

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Tags: babymaking ; ) neglected reader, daddy kink, size kink, hurt/ comfort

wc: 2.3k 

 a/n: this was very self indulgent, just like all my other works

this is a reupload from my old blog jaded--enigma

-

Closing the door behind you, feet dragging against the floor as you came home from a bad day at work, eyes glossy and red. Immediately going to your finance’s office, wanting him to coddle you and tell you everything would be alright, as he was great at. One of the reasons you admired him so much, being his biggest fan.

Opening the door to see him writing something on his papers, his blazer on the floor, only wearing his white button-down shirt fitting him perfectly. 

His arms barely fit the tight material as your eyes scrolled down to his glasses sitting on the table next to his hands, so pretty and big, instantly getting you worked up, even though that was the reason you came here. Wanting your daddy to make it all better.

Walking up to him making your way in his lap, sittin pretty. Mumbling out a “ken”, resting your head on his shoulder while gently kissing his neck. 

“Not now baby.” he said, gently moving his head away from yours before you could even wrap your arms around him, so why did that make you fall apart? Why were you so sensitive? Why were there tears forming in your eyes?

You gave him a fake soft smile pushing the tears back, saying “okay.” and hopped off of his lap, already missing his touch as you walked out of the room, feet still dragging as you took one last peek at him before you shut the door and started walking towards your own room, knowing he would work till late night, as always.

He was obviously stressed so you understood that he wanted to be alone, but you felt so burdensome, annoyingly needy, as you finally made it to your room. Laying on the bed that you two slept on, hugging the fluffy sheets.

Trying to get your mind off of it, you changed into your baby blue silk nightgown, finding it in your closet full of clothes he bought you. So much that you started using the guest room for extra storage for your shoes.

It fell just over your knees, the straps dainty as a pin, flowing as you walked towards your bed again, dimming the lights on the way.

Dirty thoughts getting to you, remembering that you had to wash them two days ago from him making a mess out of you after coming home from work, taking it out on you. Now covering your face with your hands, pain spreading throughout your body as you tried to subdue it, telling yourself you could wait… but you couldn’t.

Your legs spread open, no panties or bra on, just the gown. Shoving your fingers into your cunt, so wet and needy, making a mess but getting yourself nowhere. Crying softly, the last thing you want to do is make your daddy mad at you.

Fat tears falling from just wanting an ounce of his attention, so needy, so embarrassed; embarrassed over the fact that you couldn't even touch your clit right without getting tired. 

Embarrassed that he could get you off better than yourself, the fact that you were never dry around him; the fact that he had you this spoiled to the point of him doing everything for you made your heart break and flutter at the same time.

He loves how appreciated you made him feel, making him feel like you couldn't do anything without him. He loves to take care of you because he doesn't want to see you let go of your youth, in a way living his life through you. Not wanting to rush to ‘grow up’ like he had to,  you made him feel like he was living his life with no regrets.

Your fingers were so small in comparison to his, thinking about how just one would fill you up, and him simply curling it inside you would make you cum, so responsive to his touch. Trying your best to feel the feel same as his. 

You raised your legs slightly in the air, trying to reach deeper like he did. It somewhat working as you were now letting out held back moans along with “daddy and ken” falling there too, or maybe it was from the lewdness of it all, your messy little pussy all wet thinking ‘bout daddy and his fat cock, if only he knew.

You were so lost in your own world you didn't even hear the door open. He was met with your sticky tears falling down your pretty face as you struggled trying to get yourself off. His composed nature leaving him freezing for once in his life.

You finally gave your self a break, sobbing louder as you couldn't even feel anything looking up to wipe your tears with both hands, finally getting them dry enough to see as turned your head, shaking in place seeing your future husband stand in the doorway.

“K-ken” you startledly whispered loud enough for him to hear while he was making his way to you, loosening his tie, his stoic face staying the same. He got on the bed, hovering over you, his tie and shirt lying somewhere on the floor as he inched closer to you, his nose almost touching yours.

“You know I love you right? He said, taking your left hand into his, grabbing the diamond ring on your finger, stroking it with his finger as it gleamed in the moonlight. You looking at his sliver one in return, too shy to face him after what just happened.

“y-yes” you wept locking eyes with him, your vision being blurry but still seeing his handsome face above you “I know it's my fault daddy. M-m’sorry” 

“Shh, baby it's never your fault. Daddys sorry, he didn't know how needy you were, cmere.” he cooed bringing you closer to him. “Tell me what's on your mind. What's wrong honey?” 

“Everything daddy… everything.” you complained, reaching to wipe your eyes again. He already knew what happened just from you saying that. And as usual the only reason his baby would cry was because of their job or a sad movie. 

‘How about you just be my cute little wife and carry my babies; that's the only thing you'll ever have to do again, okay?” he said already having it in the back of his head ever since he first fell for you. After months of you sneaking him extra bread in his bag when he left the store, always smiling at him with your whole heart; it being the first time he's ever blushed, he was whipped.

“Mkay.” you sniffled, not even bothering or caring to fix your face. He was so kind. The idea sounding great in your head. Never having to see your mean boss again, always getting on you for the simplest things, leaving to go cry in the break room.

“There's my good girl.” he praised, kissing you forehead, dragging up your nightgown over your head, finally being bare for him, as his eyes took in your body. Loving every curve you had, kissing his way down your neck after staring with your eyes. Your salty tears being whisked away from his affection that he gave you, that you loved.

His lips met your chest, wrapping them around your nipple as he cupped that breast. Squeezing it gently while moving his hand from your thigh, his ring leaving an imprint there while grabbing your other breast. Flicking it with his finger, loving to hear the little whimpers you let out, so precious. 

“Ken” 

“You’re so wet” he said, attaching his lips to your puffy clit, sucking on it while shoving his long fingers into you soaking little cunt, curling them just like how you were daydreaming about earlier.

“Daddy- please.” you whined bucking into his mouth already so needy, not needing any prep, just wanting to be stuffed full.

“Gimme...”, you said, trying to form a sentence while  his fingers were knuckle deep, hitting your g spot with ease.

“I got you my love” he said, already unbuckling his pants, taking a break from abusing your poor clit as you watched his cock pop out of his boxers. Mouth already watering thinking about taking it into your mouth, but pushing that to the side, knowing that he wouldn't say yes to that right now.

He hasn't seen a prettier sight in his life; your ankles by your ears, pussy begging for him to breed, his mind foggy as ever as you tell him to fuck a baby into you. Freezing at the words coming out of your sweet little mouth. But how could he tell his angel no?

“Open up for me sweetheart.” he muttered, imagining you so full and needy, not even being able to get up without him making him harder than ever. Sliding into you with no condom, as always, only on birth control. But the thought of it not doing its job got you even more hot and bothered, you head flooding with the thought of him fucking his cum back into you.

“Relax” he says, observing your face attentively.

“Youre so big daddy” you breathed out, eyes locking on his cock doing its best to fit in your little hole, even though you were drenched he still had to take it slow.

“it hurt?” 

“No. just fuck me, please. I'll be a good girl, daddy please.” you whined already working your way to make him bottom out.

He puts his lips on yours to distract you, shoving his length all the way in. Catching your moans in his mouth, groaning into yours. Your sweet scent getting his mind hazy as you rested on the mattress, your greedy little hands placing themselves on his back as you grabbed him closer.

He pushed himself balls deep in you, not taking long for you tell him to move whining out for your “daddy to fuck you”. His cock nudging your cervix, slowly easing back and forth to ease the pain you didn't even notice.

You feel so full while trembling in his hold. Feeling so good to finally have him inside you. Knowing that he was doing his best to not just fuck into you, wanting to make you feel good like you deserved.

He breaks the kiss and buries his face in the mattress beside your head, leaving kisses on your neck, as your ankles were now on his shoulders, hips spread wide rough for him to abuse. Your lips brush against his arm while he's connecting his hands with yours. Your rings clashing while you accept, pulling him closer like it's possible.

He's kissing underneath your ear now he starts to move his hips. Moaning at the feeling of his fat cock finally stretching you out. Pulling all the way out except the tip before slamming his hips back into yours, both of you moaning at the feeling.

He continues fucking you deep and fast, knowing thats how you liked it. His big frame towering  over yours, the comfy feeling of his weight on you, the heat radiating from his body making you feel like you were in heaven

“k-ken,” you mouthed not letting a word out but he read your pretty swollen lips. “you feel s-so good. d-ont pull out.”.

“When have i ever.” he stated, his voice unwavering as he brought his face to yours, seeing your eyes glossy and red, knowing you couldn't think straight right now. The only thing being on your mind was him. “You wanna be a mommy?”

“Y-yeah want your babies, want daddies babies, daddy please, please ple-” you whimpered out, clinging onto his shoulders admiring his body before you met his eyes. Overcome with the feelings you had inside you, wanting him to know as much as you. “Daddy -hahh i lov-e you.” 

“I know baby... i love you too” he returned, placing his lips on yours as he continued fucking into your sloppy little hole that he was the cause of.

He grabs your thighs, spreading them apart more, your hips giving away. Almost lifting you up, fucking into you deeper than before. Your screaming with no noise coming out except gasps because your daddy fucking you so good, making your head spin. And all you can think about is having his babies, wanting him to cum in you so much that it never comes out.

“More” you begged, wanting to feel his cum dripping out of you.

Your orgasm, collecting itself all this time, finally hits you like a shockwave. So unannounced that you completely let go and turn limp and he's still manhandling you, getting himself off.

You don't even feel him stop, just feeling his hot cum pouring inside you before you realize your not being thrusted into anymore. You cunt still clenching around him, milking him for everything he’s got as he tunes you over, not pulling out. You now resting on top of him, both of you breathing heavily as you cum for the nth time feeling it drip down your thighs and onto his balls.

“Are you okay my love?”

You cant even talk now, you voice long gone from crying earlier to him fucking you. You just snuggle into his side, wrapping your arms around his bicep as he strokes your forehead, kissing it before you grab his face.

“Kiss” you pouted using your remaining strength to point to your lips.

He lets out a laugh, leaning down to give you what you want, as always. Breaking the kiss when you let out a moan again; his cock was not hard anymore but still took up all the room in you, if you moved it would move it you. 

He repositions himself deep as he can inside without hurting you before noticing your swollen eyes starting to close. “Goodnight doll, love you.” he softly says kissing your forehead again

“Wait” You mummerd out, not opening your eyes but putting all your attention on him too. Wondering what you were gonna say as your soft sleepy smile appeared on your face. Cheeks all puffed out along with your lips. As you snuggled closer to his, mouth right up at his ear.

“G’night daddy, love you too”

[letterstotheflre]

my drug is my baby

summary: sirius is glad he was patient enough with you and takes part of what he has been craving most

warnings: daddy kink, a smidge of religious references, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering and oral sex (fem receiver), innocence/corruption kink

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i kinda hate this now but i think it’s because i read it too many times, idk || i think it's a universal experience to not being able to cum from your own fingers... right?? and we all know that sirius has a crying kink... also i think it’s so hot when they make you thank them for letting you cum, sue me!!

Sirius Black liked to believe he was a patient man when he needed to be.

He was known for being reckless, always jumping into the next adventure without much thought, ready to follow James wherever he went. Most of the time he spoke without thinking, especially if he knew his comments would make his parents red with rage. Sometimes he didn’t even mean what he said, he just spewed whatever progressive or controversial opinion he had in hopes of making his mother’s heart stop beating.

He revelled in making rash decisions, somehow always ending up being benefited by them. He never gave much thought to anything: always doing his homework last minute yet somehow still getting top marks, taking some jokes too far, never taking into consideration other people’s safety unless they were close friends.

Some may call him selfish, but he liked not having to put too much thought into every single action. He spent most of his childhood walking on eggshells, afraid of saying the wrong thing and being punished or worse, Regulus taking the beating for him. But now that he finally escaped the Black family, he enjoyed the freedom that came with leaving Grimmauld Place.

He enjoyed breaking rules and creating chaos. It made him feel mighty, knowing he had the power to make all of those choices, still coming out on top, and see how they affected certain people. Most applauded him, revered him for being so spontaneous and adventurous; others couldn’t stand him, complaining about his mean jabs and sometimes harmful pranks.

Yet he knew how to wait for the things he deemed important or worthy. He knew that it was best to wait for Euphemia’s cherry pie to cool down before eating it, to wait for three days after the full moon to make a werewolf joke to Remus, to wait a few hours after James lost a Quidditch match to suggest a quick trip to The Three Broomsticks. And he knew it was best to wait for you.

Good things come to those who wait, that was his mantra. Of course, most of his restraint when it came to you was because he cared deeply about you and your comfort, but his conscience also drove him to keep his hands to himself. Every time his hands were about to go under your skirt, every time he heard your breathy moans when he kissed your neck, every time you looked at him with pouty lips begging for a kiss and his fingers craved to squeeze your neck, he took a step back. He felt so guilty for tainting something that in his mind was so pure, so he just held you close and peppered your face with kisses until you giggled.

But the thought of you being so untouched and how bashful you looked when he teased you or someone made a sexual comment made him want to ruin your innocence. Something inside him craved to see you tainted, to have you writhing under him as he rolled his hips against yours while you clutched his shoulders. He wanted to take that holiness you had and turn it into something so sinful that there was no way for you to ask for redemption.

And when you opened the door and took the first step, who was he to deny you?

He dragged everything out. Since the day when he taught you how to touch yourself, he wanted to make you wait for every sexual act that followed. He wanted to see how long it would take for you to beg him for some relief.

So today during a lecture when you looked at him with glazed over eyes and begged him to help you relieve the strange ache you felt in your stomach since you woke, he decided to be benevolent and give you some relief. He swiftly moved his hand under your skirt (thanking God that most of your closet consisted of that particular piece of clothing and dresses) and pushed aside your underwear before his fingers made way between your dripping folds. He didn’t enter you, just played with your clit until you had to bite the back of your hand to muffle your moans.

But when you whispered a small “thank you, daddy” and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, the only thing he wanted to do was take you back to his room and press you to the bed until your legs shook and tears ran down your cheeks. His eyes quickly scanned the classroom to make sure no one saw or heard anything, shoulders tense because of your words. All he could see were students with their own glassy eyes as they listened to whatever the professor was talking about. Fucking tease, Sirius thought.

And now, as he watched you on your knees and clutching his leg, lips pouty and cheek nuzzling his jean covered thigh, he was thankful for being patient enough.

“Please, Sirius, they’re back,” you said. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but played dumb as one hand petted your hair. “What’s back, baby?”

“The tingles,” you explained.

“And you need me to fix it, hm?” A small taunt was evident in his tone. “Your hands aren’t enough anymore, right bunny?”

Your cheeks warmed up at the implication, nevertheless, you shook your head. You still managed to make yourself cum, but the way Sirius could play with your clit like an experienced musician and how his big hands moved your hips along his jean covered leg would never compare to your dainty digits. The thought of his big fingers inside of you was enough to increase the tingles, and your hands pressed down on your stomach trying to soothe the pain.

“Please, Sirius, it hurts so bad,” you whimpered.

“Use your words, angel. Be good,” he said. You looked up at him with watery eyes, your mind already slipping and not letting you form too many coherent thoughts. “Please, daddy,” you sniffled.

He kept petting your head. “What do you want, angel?” He asked, looking almost bored with the situation as he listened to your pleads. “Anything,” you whined.

He shook his head, mocking disappointment. “You know you have to ask for what you want, puppy.” Even though he wasn’t angry, honestly a little amused at your desperation, his voice was stern, trying to engrave his rules in your fuzzy brain.

Your hands squeezed his leg, “I need you… down there.”

“You need to be clearer.''

You closed your eyes. You hated being so crass, but Sirius certainly had no qualms about it. “I need you… in my pussy,” you got out. But it wasn’t enough, not for Sirius who longed to ruin every aspect of your innocence. “What do you want, baby? D’ya want my fingers or my tongue?”

“Both,” you whined. Bingo, he thought with a dark smirk that would’ve sent shivers down your spine if you weren’t absolutely drenching and desperate for his touch. “Up you get, puppy,” he said, “lay on the bed f’me.”

You got on the bed right next to him, your head laying on one of your fluffy pillows. Your dress rode up a bit with your movements, but it didn’t really matter, and you pressed your legs together trying to relieve some of the tension while you waited for Sirius to do something. He simply watched you, taking in the image of you wriggling in place and toying with the rings he bought you for your birthday.

You felt a soft touch on your calves, and it gave you a fluttering feeling in your stomach. Sirius’s hands were moving slowly up your legs, nudging them apart without needing much force since you complied immediately. You were about to burst, ready to scream at him to just get on with it, but decided to keep quiet.

One of his hands made its way to the edge of your dress, swiftly going under it and his fingers slightly grazing your clothed pussy. Your hips bucked at the soft touch, but then just as quickly as it came it was gone. “No, come back!” you implored, reaching for Sirius’s wrist but being too slow.

Sirius arched one eyebrow, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry!” you cried out, “M’sorry, I just need you so bad. It hurts.” But Sirius remained where he was, arms now crossed over his chest as he looked at you. His eyes were full of disappointment and you wanted to cry, “What’s gotten into you today? You were so demanding in class before, so bratty, I don’t think you deserve it at all.” He was stretching the truth, you were by far the least bratty person he had ever been with, but he couldn’t help himself when he saw how much his words affected you.

A few tears fell at his words, “No, no, m’not bratty. I’m a good girl, daddy. I promise I’ll be so so good, your best girl! I won’t ask for anything more, m’sorry.'' You were saying anything you could to convince him that you were still his good girl, his angel.

Your lips were quivering and your chest was heaving with sobs you tried to keep inside; babbling apologies and trying to convince him that you would never act like this again, and he finally took pity on you. His hands gripped your ankles and opened your legs so he could lay comfortably between them. He could see a dark patch on your lavender underwear, and he huffed out a laugh with a slightly amused shake of his head. “I forgive you, bunny, but you’ll have to take everything that I give you. D’you think you can do that f’me?”

You nodded eagerly, choking a small ‘thank you’ as you tried to control your breath. He grabbed the ends of your dress and bunched it up over your waist, not bothering to take it off. He licked a strip over your underwear and the combination of his warm tongue with the friction of the cotton cloth was enough to make you mewl.

Sirius could not deny that he had been craving to taste you once more after he licked your fingers clean that day, and now only getting a smidge of your taste from what seeped through your underwear drove him insane. He needed to taste you completely, so he quickly pulled them off and pocketed them in the back of his jeans.

He used his fingers to spread your folds wide open, staring hungrily at all the slick that had gathered. “Oh puppy, look at the mess you’ve already made,” he crooned. “Y’re dripping, d’ya really need me this bad?”

“Yes, so so bad. Please, daddy.” He was so close, his warm breath hitting your wet folds and making you tremble in anticipation.

You watched, using your elbows to raise yourself a little, as he slowly started to take his rings off. “Hold ‘em for me, bunny, don’t want them to get dirty,” he said as he slid his chunky rings into your fingers. The metal dangled a little because of the size difference, so you closed your hands to keep them from falling.

Finally, his tongue made contact with your clit and you sighed in relief. It was followed by a moan when he started to suck on it, making sure to swirl his tongue all around before slurping. He looked like a starved man that finally came into contact with some sweet fruit, moving his head around your pussy to have you gushing on him. The ache in your tummy was slowly decreasing, now replaced with a nice fluttering feeling.

Your whines and moans echoed through his ears, resembling the most beautiful angel choir he had ever heard. He pulled away for a moment, “I’ve been waiting to taste you for days, puppy. S’better than I remembered.”

The more he pushed his tongue inside you, the more your legs shook. You involuntarily closed them, your pillowy thighs acting as earmuffs around Sirius’s head. He let them rest there for a few seconds before pushing them open once more, adding more fervour to his movements, eager to drink your sweet ambrosia.

Your closed fists went to his head, and you opened them a little to grip his hair, trying to ground yourself. “Gonna cum, daddy, can I?” You breathed out. Sirius just hummed, sending vibrations that were enough to make you let go. You tried to close your legs once more, but his shoulders prevented you from doing so. You felt like you were floating, your brain shutting off for a few seconds before returning to earth.

But Sirius didn’t stop moving his tongue, one of his fingers circling your hole before entering you slowly. Just one of his fingers felt like two of yours, even though you knew it wasn’t an accurate comparison. The stretch this time burned more than when you touched yourself, and you whined while shaking your head. “Too much, s’too much.”

Sirius paused for a moment so he could press your legs to your chest with one hand while the other kept moving in and out of you. The sudden switch in position made you gasp, but not as much as when Sirius thrust his fingers hard. “Are you dumb? I told you you had to take everything I gave you. D’you want to make me mad again?”

More tears fell when he curled his fingers, expertly finding that spongy spot inside you that pumped white heat through your veins. The way they twisted resembled a musician fiddling with a harp, your needy whines accompanying them like the main act. “No no, I can take it” you gasped, drowning in bliss as his fingers kept hitting the perfect spots.

You were already so close, Sirius giving you no respite as he quickly pushed his fingers. Your hand gripped his arm, fingertips digging the ink-covered skin. “C-close,” you whined, eyes rolling back and mouth open as you felt the tension ready to break.

“Going to make more of a mess, angel?” he grumbled, and you tried to nod as much as you could in your constricted position. Sirius chuckled, “Dirty little thing. Go on, I’ve got you.”

You whimpered brokenly as he pulled another orgasm from you. It felt like his fingertips were scrapping your insides to drag it out, and your feet dangled in the air as you swung them while trying to grab his wrist to stop him from moving.

Sirius couldn’t tear his eyes from you, with your pretty tears dripping down your cheeks and your chest heaving with small sobs from how good you felt. For him, all for him and only ever for him, because no one had ever touched you like he has and no one else ever would. “You look so pretty like this,” he cooed. “God I love your tears, baby, look how hard you make me.”

Your eyes moved down his body—when had he taken off his shirt? His tattoos splayed over his toned muscles made you clench around his fingers. You adored the small drawings that covered most of his body, they looked so beautiful on him and you just wanted to cry even more at how pretty your boyfriend was. When your eyes moved lower, following his previous instruction, you could see there was already a bulge in his pants that you knew was his cock, and your mouth watered at the thought of it just resting against his stomach like it did the first time you sucked him.

“I wanna feel you,” you cried while stretching your hands to touch him. He let you, your soft palms going over his chest and grabbing his shoulders so you could pull him down. “Kissie,” you breathed, letting his lips hover over yours for a second before kissing you hard and messily. His tongue played with yours and it only added more fuel to the fire inside you.

A moan broke you apart when his fingers resumed their pace, “P-please, no more” you babbled, the stimulation too much to bear.

“How are you gonna take my cock if you can’t take my fingers, hm?” He asked and you whined, his fingers burying themselves up to his knuckles and making your eyes roll back once more. Your mouth was dry from being constantly open, whimpers and moans constantly escaping from the open cavity. “Come on, one more, I know you have it in you. My good girl aren’t you?”

The squelching sounds were so dirty and they rang through your ears,  yet even through your fuzzy mind you could discern the important words, “Y-your good girl,” you managed to get out with a smile, glad to be praised by him.

His other hand pressed down on your legs even more, and now you could see the way the digits moved in and out of you, a slight sheen coating the skin every time they came out. “God, you were right, bunny, you are tight,” he grunted, “I don’t think I’ll ever fit, m’gonna break you.”

At that, your eyes widened. “No no, you’ll fit, daddy!” But he just chuckled at your desperation, “M’gonna break you in half, angel. Do you want that? Do you want me to split you open?”

A small chant of ’yes’ and ‘please’ echoed through the room. You could feel another wave coming, ready to wash over you as your toes curled in anticipation. It was like you were dangling on the edge, your hands holding on for dear life as you tried to hold on, and your moans grew louder and louder with every thrust Sirius gave.

Your clenching walls around his digits were warning enough for him, and he kept his eyes on your form as you struggled to keep it at bay, waiting for his permission. He watched as your ring clad fingers scrambled to the sheets, gripping them tightly as your head moved from side to side. “That’s it, bunny, let go f’me” and with one harsh thrust, you slackened the hold you had on your release and finally let go.

If you felt like you were still on your body you would’ve screamed. A white heat engulfed you as your vision grew hazy, your hips raising of their own accord and aiding Sirius in dragging your orgasm out. You looked so beautiful like this, a sweaty sheen on your skin and now tangled up hair sticking to your forehead. Sirius leant down, tongue cleaning the fallen tears before they dried, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

He grabbed your face, squishing your spit covered cheeks. “What do you say, angel?”

With a shuddering breath, you looked into his stormy eyes as he cleaned your release from his fingers with his tongue. “Thank you, daddy.”

You tried to lower your legs, but Sirius kept them in place. You stared at him, confused, yet he was staring at your puffy cunt, all shiny and stretched out for him. A smirk covered his lips as he finally looked at you, “I think y’re finally ready for m’cock, angel.”

TAGLIST: @ildm4ev @capsmischief @dracosafety @dracoxgeorge @roonilwazlibswhore @lovelylupinx @sarcasmismyon1ydefence @marxy-06 @remusjlupinisdead @mattefic @artisancowbells @zzzfour @emmaev @gxtitobxby @sam-hollandsgirl —if you want to be tagged tap here

[kookiecrumb]

jjk|| Your Head

"tags": @kazthebrekkerofinej

word count: uhhhh

summary: Jungkook is the heir to the throne of your Kingdom! In this tale of duty versus heart, will love prevail victorious?

tags: Royalty!Jungkook x Peasant!Reader, oneshot, smut, fluff, slight angst, some crack, pining, forbidden lovers, Jungkookie has a sweet tooth, strangers to friends to lovers

warnings: explicit language, impact play, birthday sex (technically), fingering, oral (m receiving*), love marking, alcohol consumption, s&m themes, horny grinding, praise kink/body worship

a/n:

hey guys!

Firstly, I want to say how proud I am of myself for growing so much during this fic. I learned a lot about what I'm comfortable with, what I'd like to work on, and where my confidences lie.

I won't lie and say it's been easy, because writing this meant dealing with a lot of my fears? I'm excited for all the works that are to come.

The only thing I can do is be as receptive to growth as possible, so I'm looking forward to learning...

*I actually learned that Vaseline wasn't invented until like the 1870s? The fic is written in the 1810s, so I actually had a choice between having them do it with vegetable oil or spit. Spit won.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

5 years ago

You bend over to pick up an apple that had rolled over under your father's produce cart, praying that it isn't bruised so that you have to pay for it out of your dinner, when a crumpled piece of paper hits you in the ass.

Confused, you crawl out from under the stand and unwrap the paper.

The paper itself is of the finest quality you've ever seen. It's a sturdy cardstock, bleached white with gold etchings on the borders. The print on the top of it reads "His Highness Jeon's Royal Study," and scribbled in some kid's amateur cursive below, "Nice butt."

You directed your gaze upwards, towards the towering castle walls. Sure enough, a boy no older than 15 had his noggin popping out from the top of the rampart, with two wide eyes staring down, curious as to your reaction. This was Prince Jungkook, heir to the throne of your kingdom.

"Shouldn't you be equestrian horse riding or playing polo or something?" You shout. He furrows his eyebrows, apparently offended at your assumption, and then disappears behind the edifice.

Moments later, another paper hits your shoulder as you're practicing your caligraphy behind your cart. It lands between the apples, so you reach your hand over and fish out out.

You glance up at the anticipant, and sure enough he's there with his doe eyes and his coconut head, ogling.

"No, dumbie. That's at MID-day." Well how were YOU supposed to know the royal schedule of the crown prince, it wasn't just common knowlegde you learned from being a humble farmer's daught--

Ah!

"Will you STOP?!" You put your foot down. "Unless you're here to buy my apples, then you're not getting ANY, little Prince." Oh, shit. You gave him ideas. Now it was really over for you.

In less than half an hour, half a company of men arrived at the marketplace, asking about your little old apple stand, and sure enough, Jungkook had bought out the entire cart so that you were forced to help with the transaction.

The young prince had eyes frankly too big for his head, with the most prominent cupid's bow you've ever seen. His nose slightly outgrew his face and his ears were hidden away behind his short, black hair. "Now you can talk to me." He gave you a rose he'd stolen from the royal garden. "I am Jungkook, heir to the throne of--"

"I know who you are." You interrupt him, documenting His Highness' total in your calligraphy book.

With a hand perched on his chest from surprise, he scoffed. "And I happen to think you're really pretty, so I was going to ask you to be my very first consor--"

"You're 15, you have playmates not consorts."

"And how old are you?!" He's had it, raising his voice and taking a bite out of one of your apples with force.

"16, old enough to have suitors." You tease. Jungkook hangs his head a little. He just needed someone to talk to, it would seem. Reluctantly, you scribbled down your address down on a piece of note paper and handed it to him.

"Look, if you buy more of my apples, I'll have an excuse to tell my Dad so I can hang out with you." You spoke in a low voice as to not raise suspicion.

Your dad is standing negotiating with the guards about prices, his usual embarassing haggling gruffly overpowering the guards elegant twiddle-tones.

"Wonderful! See you soon, my sweet!" He resumes his confident demeanor, tucking the paper into his overcoat with a small smile. He salutes you boyishly and marches away with a year's supply of apples.

For the next week, the royal kitchen had baked 3 apple pies, made 5 fruit salads, 4 batches of apple muffins, and threw the rest of them in Sangria; that's the same Sangria as King Jeon finds himself drinking in his wife's drawing room on Sunday.

"Call Chef, fetch him up here." He waves to his assistant, keeping his eyes on the outside. He was deep in thought, his hands stoicly behind his back.

The Kingdom had been prosperous for over many years now, and war had not come close to threatening its borders in a lifetime. Negotiations were always successful, and quality of living was high. The work of a King, in a situation such as this, was to perfect the image of the royal family as strong rulers, and to paint his daughters as desirable to foreign heirs.

"Your Grace," the assistant called his attention, "Head Chef Sung." The dainty man bows and scurries off somewhere else.

Chef Sung is a portly man, who carries himself heaving with every step, his great belly inflating with each hefty inhale. He approaches the King, and kneels down to kiss his hand with his fat lips.

The King recoils in disgust, but quickly collects himself and his words. "Where are these apples from, is it France or Spain?" He demands.

"Neither, Your Highness." Mr.Sung lifts up his eyes. "They are from our Holy Kingdom; by order of Prince Jungkook, an entire cart was purchased of these apples and we have not been able to get rid of them." Tears threatened Chef Sungs eyes at the very mention of the fruit.

'Well, there's one thing the kid's done right.' King Jeon now faces the Chef, setting down his drink on a mahogany table, leaning against it casually. "Well! Good. I'd like to meet the owner of that cart, invite him to my Sunday brunch."

"Oh, yes, of course sir! You'll never see them in our kitchen aga--What?" Chef Sung takes out his handkerchief, waving it around in the air and drying his tears at once. "So you like them! Why...Yes! Yes, of course!"

Your father thought it would be valuable to have you around the kitchen, learning from the skilled men and women employed by the Jeon family. He only visited once a week to drop off fresh produce, (he'd been officially hired to handle restocking of goods) but you, after showing promising signs of being a gifted baker during one of your father's restocks, were granted scholarship by Ms.Kang to be her aid.

You were now, officially, a resident of the Jeon Estate, residing in the servant's quarters, immediately adjacent to the kitchen. This was convenient. It was far too convenient for a certain little Prince to get the idea of wanting a midnight snack and wandering downstairs.

One day, he does just that. He finds his way into the first bedroom to the right of the stairs facing the kitchen, and that happens to be your bedroom.

He pokes you awake. "Ow! Ow, whyyy~" You whine and toss yourself over to the other side of the bed. His irritating poking persists. You grab his fingers and your eyes shatter open.

You sit up, alarmed. "You could have me arrested, what the fuck are you doing?!"

"I wanted a midnight snack! Besides, I wanna talk to you." He pouts, still holding a small teddy companion.

"Fine. I'll bake you ONE sheet of cookies." You slip on your night shoes and shuffle to the kitchen, and Jungkook tags along.

By the time Jungkook's 18th birthday comes around, he's in the kitchen helping you whisk buttercream to top his cake while having a tease at the Austrian Princess' mole.

"You have one right under your lip, look!" You take a little buttercream from the bowl and stain the dark spot with it.

He licks it up and hastens to add, "it needs more sugar, lady!" as he turns to grab a puffy bag of confection sugar.

"You're impossible to please." Snatching the sugar away from him, you smirk. "You can gobble down as many sweets as you want when the ball commences. Remember, this is the year you're supposed to be keeping your eye out for a girl of a good fam--"

"Yada yada, must have hips for childbearing, yada yada yada..." He mocks the speech his mother had told him that morning when he got dressed.

"Exactly." You set your bowl aside to fix Jungkook's tie. "Yes, and that's your duty, as our heir."

You step back and examine Jungkook one more time. He'd grown so tall in the last year, his legs like spider's and he was just beginning to grow into his features. Handsome boy.

You, too, had grown into an elegant young woman. You had a poised complexion, ready-mannered and graceful. Your hands seemed out of place in your otherwise feminine frame, carrying an extra bit of girth from baking. You were 19 years old.

Marriage was becoming an uncomfortably frequent topic during your visits home, as your mother had married young, herself, she expected the same of you.

Truth be told, there were plenty of offers for your hand. You were a skilled and very esteemed individual, who had broken into thr artisinal class. But your father knew better than put a dowry on your happiness. So long as you worked, he saw no reason to marry you off just yet.

"Now, go. Your sisters must be worried sick! Go out there." You shoo him, pushing him out the door of the kitchen despite his flailing arms.

Throughout the party, you'd been carrying a platter of your own baked goods, serving them to the aristocrats attending the Princes' coming-of-age ball. Accents from all over Europe and some from Kingdoms as far East as Cyprus jubilantly engaged in artful conversation which filled the air with good spirits.

Jungkook, himself, was busy being introduced to as many women as possible, a medley of presenting duchesses, ladies, and even Princesses of your Kingdom. They were each more qualified than you'll ever be, ten-fold.

One was a Greek Princess, her hair cascaded in darling curls down her shoulders and her eyes were deep-set, her voice a flirtatious trill.

Another, a Prussian Princess', posture radiated excellency, and whose complexion sparkled like powdered snow. Jungkook greeted her warmly, pleased with her appearance.

Distracted, you tripped up your skirt and dropped the remainder of your pastries. With that, you stepped off to use the restroom.

The sound of Strauss' Rosen aus dem Süden faintly loomed in the air as you wiped tears from your waterline in the mirror. That was just the way it was, wasn't it? Princes come of age, and they find wives who they commit their lives to.

"Married men don't have friends who are girls." You say out loud, just to realize it. Jungkook was now expected to find a mate within the season, and he was, in fact, quite the eligible bachelor.

Little did you know that Jungkook had been keeping an eye out for you throughout the party, not only because you were carrying his favorite Danish pastires, but because he knew your company was his greatest comfort.

He's in the midst of greeting the Duchess of Kent when he excuses himself to go look for you. He finds your mess first, frowning as he realizes something has gone terribly wrong.

He catches you in the hallway, face puffy and shaky. He grabs your wrist to keep you from darting back to the kitchen.

"Please don't do this, it's my birthday, y/n." It's as if an unspoken rule had been broken between you, and he feels it. Something is making you uncomfortable. "Was it the girls? You told me about this, it's my duty to at least greet them and--"

"Yeah, you sure did greet the Prussian woman nicely." You speak through tears. "She's the girl you were born to be with, huh? Your birthright?"Jungkook is silent. "Every girl at that ball wants to be your wife, want to have your children. They haven't known you for a day and yet they're ready to be your bride."

You search Jungkook's eyes for any sign of coherence, hoping that he would defend against you, that he would speak up and tell you otherwise. No such argument comes.

You yank your arm from his grip and march to the kitchen to remake the pastries you spilled.

You had the job of clearing off all the tables upon the departure of the last guests. It is midnight, and the windows of the castle stream moonlight down on the carpet beneath your feet. The glow of candles soothe you as you hum the waltzes which echo in your mind. It's a brilliant evening.

The centerpieces of the tables were gardenias, lush rose-like flowers with yellow pistils.

Summer, 1809

"Jungkook, wait! You're going to make me trip!" You shout from the top of the hill.

"You've gotta come see before the sun sets! It's the only way we'll get there on time, now run!" Jungkook's speeding down the terrain towards the Sycamore tree which grew deep and wide beneath the banks of a great rushing river.

You groan and throw caution to the wind, rolling down the steep mount in your Sunday dress. Jungkook turns to watch you, a grin spreading across his handsome face. "Look at you!"

You land on your feet at the bottom and scurry off to join Jungkook under the grandfather tree, out of breath entirely. "Now, look what you made me do. You're such a boy, you know that?! Making me come out here just to see some bloody--"

Jungkook has plucked a gardenia and placed it behind your ear. "Would you shut up? We got here on time. Behold."

In all its glory, the sun bathes you in its vivacious rays, creating a feeling of heavenly bliss as it dips below the horizon. The sky blushes pink, its clouds mere whisps above you. Wind rustles the leaves of the grand tree, rousing the birds to chirp their afternoon song.

"Mom used to come here all the time with my Dad, because of these." Jungkook clasped the blooming flower in his tender hands.

After a while, he says "the bugs will come out soon, so we ought to go back," as if he's trying not to scare something away. He helps you up, and with one last look across the valley, you walk next to each other back to the East Quarters.

You take all the silverware and plates by the tub to the dish-washing station and toss all of the linen napkins into the washing machine. All you had left was to blow out the lights in leading upstairs.

"Prince! It is very late, and there are no guests left for you to entertain. What troubles you?" Jungkook's sitting on the stairs with his head in his hands, still wearing his best suit.

"I disappointed you, y/n...I didn't like any of them." He admits, lifting his head up to sulk at you. "I should have told you then, but I didn't want to make you upset!"

Did Jungkook mistake your jealousy for disappointment?

"I'm not upset because you didn't hit it off with the girls..." You sigh. A confession is due, and he's ready to hear the truth from you about how you feel about him.

"Well, the truth is, I didn't like any of the girls because I like you, y/n. But you know that, don't you?" You pause, asking him to elaborate.

"Remember when I bought all the apples because I wanted to be with you? Like...I told you that you were my consort and I kind of meant it?" He felt pathetic now, realizing that you weren't just ignoring his advances. "So you didn't friendzone me for 2 years, you actually didn't know that I liked you."

It was almost laughable, a situation you would read in one of your illegal novels which you kept tucked away in your pillow at night. "No, Kookie, I didn't." You admit to your insolence.

You can't bear to lead him on any longer. You needed to put duty over your own self interest for the sake of the kingdom, even if it shattered his hope. It was better this way.

"But, you do know that we can't ever be a thing, right? It's just silly." Your heart tightens with the words which fall out of your mouth. "It is. Nevermind what your parents would think, what would it do for your image? You're on the world's stage, Jungkook, and you're a selfish person if you think you can just throw all of your duties away to date a scum of the Earth like-- like me!" With your heart in your throat, dry your eyes with your sleeve. "And...I want to, I really really want to, more than anything else to love you, Jungkook. I love you! I...can't." Through the blur of your tears, the shapeless blob that Jungkook has become stands up.

Taking his thumb and swiping it under your eyes, he sighs. Words escaping him, he takes your trembling body against his chest and nestles his head in the crook of your neck. Your cold hands travel underneath his overcoat to hold his waist. The Princes' lips plant a gentle kiss on your neck, chaste yet deep and satisfying.

"I will not accept any bride if not you, my love." He draws back, meeting your fervid gaze. "To the world, I remain a bachelor for a few years."

"And after those years, Jungkook?" You ride your hands up to caress the man's jaw. "You will still love me after those years, and then what?"

"I don't know," he says, voice as soft as powder. "I don't know many things, y/n, that's why I need you to teach me." His palms are rubbing at your waist, beckoning you closer.

His breath quickening as you lean your body against his hold, and you figure it must be the wine he drank to calm his nerves. That was it, wasn't it? He was drunk.

"You're not drunk, are you?" Your face sours, really hoping it's not the case as you feel your body temperature rise.

"Y/N, I've only had a glass. You saw I was a wreck back there." His lips kept chasing yours in a dance you can't quite describe. "I have wanted to hold you like this since I saw you selling apples on the street. Give me the honor..." His forehead against yours and his strong hands supporting your back, he's already fucking you with his eyes.

"The pleasure of being your lover." He squeezes your waist tight with his forearms, planting brisk kisses behind your ear and breathing in your scent. He smiles against you. Your skin pebbles at his affectionate touch, purring softly as your eyes roll back in delight.

"Kookie..." You breathe, leaning on his broad chest. "Kook, the maids are wondering where I am, I have to go..." You slur, tugging at his collar.

He grunts in protest, taking your ear between his teeth and nibbling it.

"If you let me go, I'll steal some cake for you tomorrow at breakfast." If there's anything Jungkook likes more than Cream Ice, it was cake. He unravels you from his arms and nods, his eyes softening.

"Request my service tomorrow, from Ms.Kang. She's been sweet on me lately." You peck his cheek before stepping back. Your rouge has embarrassingly stained His Grace's cheek.

Jungkook bows and presses a kiss on your hand, eyes rising to meet yours. "Til' morrow, babe."

Jiyoo shakes you awake the next morning, handing you a cake and a note that reads: "Prince Jungkook has a commission he must discuss with you. Meet him at his chamber immediately."

Lacing on a simple corset over your nightgown, you try not to look too red in the face as you climb up the stairs to His Majesty's room. You'd be up there alone, as requested. The girls would absolutely start rumors based on that alone-- rumors which you realize are probably totally true. This was stuff of scandal, after all...

'There shouldn't be anything scandalous about love.' You decide as you rap on His Highness' door.

"Please enter...but only if you have my cake!" Jungkook says in his morning voice. He's so cute.

The simplicity of Jungkook's abode takes you by surprise. His bedroom is very well lit, a capital display of the flowered valley through his bay windows washed the room in gold, painting his porcelain white carpets and his cotton sheets a warm creme color. His drawers and vanity were etched in gold, with breathtaking detailing.

The Monarch himself was splayed across the bed, laying on his side casually. He held a glass in his hand, holding a white wine. He puts down his glass and sits up as your presence.

"We both know that you didn't come here as my servant." You lock the door behind you. "And I have no such commission to give you, darling." The innocence which undertones his usual speech is missing as he coaxes you towards him.

"This much I know, Your Majesty," You say, taking a bit of frosting on your index finger and smudging it on the Princes lips. His black eyes, as cunning as a viper, watch you dangerously as you push two fingers past his plush lips. He wraps his hands around your wrist and draws your hand away, his gaze fixating on you.

"Set the cake down." At his command, you carefully place the confection down on a nearby chest, feeling Jungkook's eyes on you, drawing you back towards his grip.

"Let me pull your laces apart," with your waist held by his Herculean hand, he hums "and then let me pull you apart. I want to memorize your pleasures and gratify your desires, I need it, y/n..." Your back flush against his chest and your thighs split, his hands knead into you as he litters your collar with his mark.

You gasp softly against the crook of his neck, giving into his hold of you. His hot tongue spreads under your jaw, closing into a hard kiss as his hands travel back up to undo your corset and free your tits.

One by one, his fingers pop open the buttons left on your gown until the collar hangs off-shoulder to expose your collarbone. At the sight of new skin, Jungkook's tongue darts to stain it.

His hands stagger above your breasts. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"

"Oh, Kookie, touch me everywhere~" Your hands form fists around Jungkook's shirt, beckoning him impossibly closer.

Grasping one ever so carefully, his thumb grazes your bud as he playfully bites under your ear. "ah-- ahh,"

Jungkook groans in response, he can't believe how cute you sound. Curious, he wants to hear more, so he traces your thighs and experimentally pushes up the outside your cunt.

You squirm, tensing up immediately in response. You bring your hands down to find the latch on his trousers and dip your hands below to rub him through his undergarments. He heatedly bucks up to meet your touch, a panting mess.

You face him now as he watches you ride his fingers while you grip his girth through his clothes. He takes you by the ass and places you on his prominent bulge, hips rolling into you as he hungrily kisses you, his firm hands grinding your core on his cock.

His face is a sinful red, panting under you desperately.

"I've been wanting to do this," His voice warbles through your touch, running your thumb along his underside. It's his turn to gasp. He sits up and collapses his lips into yours, softer than rose petals and his taste faintly like wine.

You place your hand on his chest, and his heart is pounding, a thin layer of sweat already forming on his honeylike complexion.

Hastily, you pull your dress over your head and lean back to allow him to familiarize himself with your stark form, a dainty chain hanging between your bosom. Jungkook bites his lips as he wriggles out of his clothing, desposing of it beside the bed.

He's giddy behind those sultry eyes, you know him well enough that he's overexcited to get inside of you. It goes straight to his cock, your playfulness as you feel up his bare shoulders and discover his abdominals, your fingers tracing his ridges with a sense of innocent wonder.

He takes your hands and looks at you in this way-- Butterflies fill your stomach instantly. Jungkook's thumbing at your pout with his intrepid fingers.

His eyes flutter when grip his base and submerge your upper body below his hips. You lick a long, thick stripe up his underside, causing his breath to hitch and his head to fall back on to the bed.

Those goddamn cupid's bow lips of his would whisper the dirtiest things under his breath, lewd thoughts that sounded completely alien coming from His Majesty's mouth, he said for you.

"Oh, such a pretty mouth~ It's so good, y/n, you swallow me so good--" he moaned like a mantra, trying to keep his hips from snapping up into you. Your hot, wet tongue wrapped around his throbbing cock was only a fantasy to him for years.

He fills your throat with his girth, his taste tantalizingly smooth. It leaves your mouth with a 'pop.' You struggle to keep your legs apart as you crawl up to kiss him.

He takes those fingers of his and slides his index and middle into you and languidly thrusts them, smirking against your lips. "Shit, you liked that, hmm..."

"Kookie...please," you whine as he squeezes your ass hard before smacking it. You yelp, the sting of his fingers radiating from your skin.

"I like it when you beg, y/n, it's so cute..." He pulls your ass up to his thighs. He's flush hard against your abdomen, already sticky with his precum and your spit. You marvel at the self control he has.

You don't finish your thought before he has his head inside of you, impaling you on his cock and stretching your entrance, hissing at how incredible it felt to have you around him.

His shaft reached pleasure points within you had yet to discover. You clench, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. "Wh... hngh," he groans, "how did you do that, do it again--" You wrap your legs around his thighs and clench around him, biting your lip. You watch as he shivers from pleasure, feeling his skin horripilate under your touch.

His thumb is softly circling above your clit as he pulls out of you carefully. He swirls back in, nestling himself inside your heat, hissing. "Ahh~ Jungkook~!" At the sound of his first name moaned out of your mouth, he groans and rolls his hips up to create messy friction. That familiar knot in your stomach tingles as he plays with the bundle of nerves buried within you.

He glances up at your ruined lips, clashing with them again as he lifts your knees up with his hands and thrusts nice and rough, making you yell with every jolt of his cock. The smell and sound of sex fills the room as he experiments with positions, laying you on all fours.

"Get your ass up for me." You obey, ever servile. You're reminded-- you're his servant. He owns your work, he owns your services, and now he wants you in the most lucrative way, he wants your soaked cunt around his imperial cock. He gets what he wants.

Jungkook's palms smack against your ass one more time, just to watch the way it jiggles for him. He smirks a little before he shoves himself into your pretty little cunt. You bury your face into the pillows in pelasure as he chases your orgasm with vigor, fingering your clitoris while you move your hips back to meet his hard thrusts.

You whine like a harlot, his cock allowing you every satisfaction as he works a head-spinning orgasm out of that cunt. "I'm gonna cum, Kookie~!" you warn as you spasm against his length, moans ripping from your throat as you coat him with your thick juices.

His hips stutter up and he just barely pulls himself completely from you as he paints your back white, a guttural groan escaping his mouth.

After a while of loud panting and scattered giggling, Jungkook reaches over for a wet cloth and cleans the both of you gingerly. You trail your hands up to caress his jaw and kiss his lips softly.

"You need to tell everyone that I had a long and extensive request for the Harvest party, that I wanted a lot of fall fruits and vegetables featured in the baked goods, make it as specific as possible and make sure that you mention that I want to meet with you again, over dinner." His labored breathing punctuate his words, as youd kisses consume him. "And..."

"And?" You cock an eyebrow, simpering.

"Doyouthinkmaybeyoucouldbringmesomemilktogowithmycake?" He mumbles, eyes glued on the bed.

"What?" (If you give a Kookie a Cookie...)

Disgruntled, he sighs and repeats: "Milk! Milk for my cake. I know it's moist cause you made it but I'm really thirsty, especially after..." His cheeks flush a cute pink. You wait for him to continue just to fluster him a little more. "Y/N, just please!" You can't ever refuse his pouty face.

Next week, Jungkook's got you pinned against the hallway wall, making out with you hungrily as his hands ride up your dress. Just across the hall, his Dad is negotiating war with Portugal over land in the West.

The next month, you have his cock buried in your throat underneath the table at an important conference about how to create jobs.

All this while the pressure for Jungkook to find a bride continues to rise as he reaches seniority, and as his father's grey hairs pronounce themselves.

Warm touches are always hidden away to the public eye, but often shared between two kindred spirits underneath the man in the moon's watchful eye. Jungkook, as he reaches his maturity, grows strong. His jaw sharpens, and his eyes darken. His hair grows long, and he gains weight. Now at the proud age of 20, Jungkook had become a man before everyone's eyes, including the eyes of foreign monarchs and their eligible bachelorettes.

One day, you're serving the Royal family at a private dinner, when the topic of marriage comes up for the first time since his birthday.

"Your mother has made friends with the mother of the Austrian Princess, and she's invited you to the cordial ball to introduce yourself to the Princess. An allyship with Austria would prove advantageous for our relations with France, so you are to make your best impression." The King wipes his mouth. Setting his fork down, he continues: "It is in the family's best interest for you to marry her, if the French Princess, Anastasie, does not present this season or the next." The Queen holds the King's hand firmly, reassuring him from his shoulder. She wears a slight frown on her face, her eyes worrisome, somber. The King hides his anxiety, as he's been accustomed to from decades of responsibility. Would this be the face of Jungkook soon?

For now, Jungkook's face is scrunching at the thought of marrying Anastasie. She's not the most delightful young woman, her imprudence ruined her enjoyment of any event. She couldn't keep an intuitive conversation about regional politics and domestic policy for the life of her. Her people were on the brink of overthrowing the aristocracy, he was sure of it.

"Yes, father," is what you hear from him before you disappear down the stairs to fetch desserts.

Jiyoo interrupts your quest for sweets with a letter, signed by His Grace. She has a naturally innocent demeanor, her cheeks rosy and her frame as delicate as a feather. "Y/N, you have another special request from His Majesty...can I ask you why you get so many of these?" She looks genuinely curious, not a single menacing thought behind those eyes.

"It's because the Prince really really loves his cake." I mean, technically it was true. Jungkook never passed up an opportunity to squeeze, smack, or dig his fingernails into your ass during your sessions.

"Oh." Jiyoo pouts. "So it's not because you're like, in love or anything?" Her eyes are glued to the floor. You were expecting this question eventually, as the other girls in the kitchen were already suspecting it. It was only a matter of time before word slipped into the girl's ears.

"As much as I enjoy the Prince's interest in my baking, it isn't my place to confess any sort of feeling for him." Your answer is straightforward enough, so Jiyoo nods and hands you the letter. Another request.

Outside the Palace, Winter came like the wind. Lakes froze over, and couples tied up their skates and danced on the ice. The trees were bare and brown, not a single leaf persisting through the chilling breath of Jack Frost.

Jungkook had left for the Winter Palace, to volunteer and raise spirits up in the North. As heir to the throne, he was to be Commander in Chief of the Royal Armed Forces, and therefore needed to undergo intensive training in order to boost morale.

You're back home, and in your wake is your father, who has now grown tangibly tired. He's been on a strict diet of warm vegetable soup for about three months, now. His eyes are sunken, but he still wears a subtle smile even during his most trying days.

Match girls make their rounds at night, you watch as the lamplighters illuminate the streets with their tall ladders and their taller peacoats. Shop windows glow warm shades of yellow and creme; inscriptions on the glass create shadows on the white snow.

"Wow. It's almost as cold as the King's heart out here." You step outside one day with a cup of tea, sneaking in a cheeky smirk. Yeah, good one.

"I heard that!" You turn towards the little voice. A child, maybe about 9 or 10 years old is pointing at you. You squint at it.

"Well, it's true..." You mumble. You have a bit of change in your pocket, so you walk towards a stand to buy a hot bun and a paper.

"Chilly today, hon...Best you take this on the house." The tenant hands you a steaming cake wrapped in a simple cloth and your paper. You stick the paper in your dress pocket and take back your change. You nod a 'thank you.'

You spill the contents of your pockets on the dining table and snatch the paper, snapping it open. Your eyes eagerly skim the headline: "Prince Jungkook Fires Up Royal Army." Below is an article detailing the happenings of His Majesty. All of it sounded very intense, the running, strategizing, first aid training...Was there anything Prince Jeon couldn't nail on the first try?

You set the paper down and pick up your now lukewarm tea. In the back of your mind you're coping with the fact that the Spring Solstice is next week, and that marks the beginning of Jungkook's last season as a Prince.

The King is ill with tuberculosis, and recovery is unlikely. If Jungkook is to marry, it is next season and that was final.

Sitting at the window of his Winter Castle study, Jungkook plays with a ring nestled between his fingers. He looks out onto the lake, as if he's trying to reach you with his gaze. His heart is tight knowing that it would be the season he chooses his bride. Actually, he'd already made up his mind long ago. If his duty was to marry, there was no way to evade such a responsibility. He had to fulfill it, despite his anxieties.

He straightens up and walks out of the hollow room with a firm step.

You awaken with the sound of horse's hooves thudding against the Earth. It is yet to be dawn, and in the distance, thunder roars mightily.

A figure wearing a long, black hood hoists itself off of the animal, tying it to a nearby post. It walks towards an obscure entrance, unknown to many staff.

Intrigued, you wrap a blanket around yourself and peek out at the stranger. His fingers are shorter than his palms, and that's when he tosses of his hood, his eyes set on you. "Y/N..."

You're bewildered by his guise, questions filling your head.

"I was horny, so I left camp" He sits down at the counter, catapulting a cookie into his mouth.

You roll your eyes. "And the guards let you?! Jungkook!" You whisper-yelled at him, readjusting your makeshift blanket-dress.

"Obviously not!" He puffed out his chest with pride. "I bribed them," he smirks.

"You're insufferable," you scoff, your eyes wandering down to observe his physique. His shirt is anything but conservative, highlighting the muscle he'd earned through laborious, sweat-inducing drills. You can feel his eyes on your face as you observe him.

"You can't hide it either," he crosses his arms. "You're standing in the kitchen with a blanket around your naked body." He flicks his tongue. He steps forward, putting a finger under your jaw so you're looking him in the eye.

Your eyes fill with lust as he speaks over your lips. "Look at yourself..." A crash is heard in the other room.

Jungkook's head darts up and in a flash, he disappears into the night.

'Fuck.' You gather your dress from the floor and shuffle back to your chamber.

The first event of the season commences with the most exaltant of spirits as friends of old greet each other with youthful smiles. Juicy exposés, enticing tales, and thoughtful greetings are exchanged in the most formal manner, and the conversation is lively; the most controversial topic of conversation, however, is the rumor that Jungkook is to marry this season.

So far, he's been to four different private residences within his own Kingdom and has been invited, by the secretary of King Louis XVII to meet their daughter. It would be an understatement to say that stakes were high for the pending King.

You were kneading your dough a little too hard thinking about it. "Not so rough, y/n!" Ms.Kang snatches the mixture from your hands. "What is up with you lately, you're so tense! It's really disrupting the kitchen's dynamic."

You shrug it off. "It's going to be hard sedating Anastasie's sweet tooth, I suppose."

"Well, you seem to be doing just fine dealing with Jungkook's addiction to cakes...She's perfect for him, really." Ms.Kang throws more flour on your kneading table and steps off. You give up on the dough, covering it with a cloth and letting it rise.

Jungkook is tapping his feet, munching on finger sandwiches as he waits on you to make an appearance.

"Dearest Prince, look, I am wearing Mediterranean violet!" A duchess shouts as she passes by him, to which he raises his eyebrows at. Another, with dark green eyes approaches and begins speaking rapidly in French at him. Frightened and undereducated, his canned response was: "Excusez-moi, Pouvez-vous répéter plus lentement s'il vous plaît," to which the duchess furrows her eyebrows before something else catches her attention, elsewhere.

Truth is, Jungkook is incredibly shaken at the thought of announcing his engagement tonight. Well, that and the fact that you had yet to pop out of the kitchen. Man, those finger sandwiches were good.

As the night progresses, Jungkook realizes that if he doesn't get up on that platform and say what he needed to say, he'd have to say it in London. Setting his fears aside, he plants himself on top of the orchestral stage and taps a champagne glass with a cheese fork. The music comes to a stop.

With conviction, he begins: "The time has come that I announce my engagement. To all of my beloved friends, who have introduced me to the most beautiful, talented, diverse, and benevolent ladies I've come to get to know over the years, I thank you from the depths of my soul." He swallows and continues, his confident voice masking his trembling. "The life of a Prince is defined by the virtues presented to him at birth. Those virtues are: duty, responsibility, grace, kindness, mercy and integrity." Here comes the part, oh shit.

"I am abdicating my throne to my Cousin, the Duke of Namseong."

Silence sweeps the room. You poke your head out to see what was going on.

"...to marry the love of my life, y/n." He points at you. Your face is cherry red, and you find yourself dropping those same Danish fucking pastries all over the carpet.

"Shit," you fall on your knees, plucking them from the ground one by one. You don't know whether to run as fast as you can or to present yourself, but your body seems to be currently doing the latter. You go along with it.

Jungkook takes your hand tenderly on the stage. "I am unable to perform my duties as King, and therefore am ineligible for the throne." His touch gives you the will to continue beside him. You feel the pure fear rushing through your love's veins, and he knows that this is the hardest thing he'll ever have to do, yet he stands by his announcement.

So, if Jungkook doesn't get to be King of this World, he at least will forever be the King of Your Heart.

But all this, of course...is all in Your, dear reader, Head.

~

a/n:

hope you enjoyed.

[fernweh-writes]

Hey, it’s me again :3

My birthday is soon(next week on the Friday)

So I wondered if you could write headcanons for the Slasher with an Birthday S/O.

Like what would they give her, what would they do on her birthday. You probably get what I mean.

But only if it’s alright and you got time, if not it’s also fine^^

I already say thank you :3💕💕(btw I really love your writing <3)

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE, I HOPE YOU HAVE AN AMAZING DAY!! I did see the other little tidbit you sent in and yes, ofc, anything for you. Especially since it’s your birthday and you asked so nicely<3

(Going ahead and posting this a lil early… i think? I can’t remember when you sent this in sorry :/)

-Fern🌿

Slashers on their S/O’s Birthday

Warnings: NSFW content, 18+

Michael Myers

Michael has always been pretty indifferent towards birthdays. So what, you’re getting older big whoop. He doesn’t see them as important and doesn’t understand the point of celebrating them.

However, as you keep mentioning to him that your birthday is coming up, he gets the hint. Michael isn’t stupid and he knows you well enough to be able to tell what you want.

Still, Michael isn’t going to throw you a party or decorate or anything like that. Instead he makes a statement just by spending the entire day with you.

During your time spent together you find out Michael did actually buy a cake for you. Although it was also partially for his own benefit as well seeing as he has a major sweet tooth. He even got “Happy Birthday y/n” written on the top in your favorite color. When you bite into it, you realize that it’s also your favorite flavor.

After the cake, Michael brings you a small box with a horribly tied ribbon wrapped around it. Don’t look at him funny, he tried okay. So what the gift inside was most likely stolen from a victims, you got a present that you loved. Isn’t that all that really matters?

Michael isn’t much of a giver in bed, he prefers to take. He mainly focuses on achieving his own end and whatever pleasure you get during that is what you get. But tonight he’ll make a point of not only making you finish first once, but numerous times throughout the night. Today is about you after all, why not try and set a new record in bed to mark the start of a new age.

Bo Sinclair

Morning sex, congratulations, this morning you become breakfast for Bo. No need to get up early to cook for him when he can simply devour you.

Surprise! He won’t be an ass to anyone for one whole day. Just for you darlin’. If some people happen to stumble into town, Bo won’t let anyone ruin your day, and quickly has Vincent take care of them. Even Lester will help out if need be, even though Les hates participating in the “family company”.

Sneaks away in the middle of the night to decorate the house. Luckily, Vincent pitches in and helps him make everything look nice. Bo goes all out with streamers, balloons, banners, he even got you a cake!

He’s more than eager to give you your presents as well. Of course he had to buy you a lingerie set, it’s a surprise that’ll help the two of you later that night…

Bo is a simple man, he just wants everyone to know that you belong to him. So he also got you a dainty little necklace of his name. Sure it may be cute to you, but secretly he’s laying his claim to you.

Usually he’s busy with keeping up the town but just this once he spends the entire day with you. Bo spending so much quality time with you doing whatever you want really says a lot.

He may even take you to the next town over for a nice dinner. After all, no one should have to cook on their own birthday and it’ll make good use of the cute little sundress he got you and gives you the opportunity to dress up. You better wear the lingerie he got you under it though. Good luck making it to the bedroom when the two of you get back from the restaurant.

Vincent Sinclair

You’re not sure who is more excited, him or you. Vincent makes sure that you have the best time ever and makes the whole day about you. It’s the perfect chance for him to spend the whole day with you and show you how much he loves you.

When you wake up he’ll be missing. He woke up early to make you your favorite breakfast. He had hoped to bring it to you in bed but sadly you’ve always been the early riser. Luckily for you, unlike Bo, Vincent is a good cook. How do you think the three boys survived before you showed up?

Vincent has always been a more private person so while there’s not any decorations all over the house and he can’t take you out to a fancy dinner you can still expect plenty of sweet surprises. He made you a bouquet of wildflowers that he picked, got you the new books you had been telling him you wanted, managed to snag one of the vinyls for the new album your favorite artist had recently released, and even got you some new outfits that he thought would look cute on you.

Vincent would be the one to put on music and dance around the living room with you. He enjoys personal time with you and uses the day to really express to you just how much he cares for you.

At the end of the day he runs you a hot bath. While you soak in the tub he throws around the rose petals and gets the ribbons and candles ready. Before you have time to get dressed Vincent will be scooping you up, tossing you on the bed, and tying you up. Be ready for a long night!

Thomas Hewitt

There’s not really much he can do for you seeing as the town is running low on supplies. Still, he’ll do his best to still make your birthday special for you. Mainly he’s just going to kick Hoyt and Monty out for the day so that you can have one peaceful day together. Luda gets to stay seeing as she’s also happy to celebrate with you.

Thomas lets Luda Mae know he wants to surprise you with something. So while he works on the surprise she’ll make sure to keep you occupied. Luda Mae will fix your hair for you and go ahead and give you the gift that she had made you, a sundress made from floral print fabric. She’s so happy her son found someone, especially someone as beautiful as you.

Thomas will have handmade you a small necklace. Since you didn’t tell him about your birthday until shortly before the day, you left him with little time to make it. He’s lucky that your comfortable with Luda Mae and he can get her to keep you distracted,

When Tommy sees you with the dress his momma made you and your hair fixed up he almost forgets about the small piece of jewelry in his pocket.

After hearing you squeal with delight when you open his gift he’s ecstatic! He loves nothing more than making you happy. when you eagerly get him to help you put it on he thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust with his love for you.

Luda Mae will bake you a cake. You’re basically her daughter in law at this point and she’s going to make sure that you have a good day. She enjoys having another woman in the house and enjoys seeing you and Thomas happy together. You’ve given her the complete family that she’s always wanted.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms is very good at being sneaky. At this point, Malcolm already knows that Brahms is a real person. So Brahms has no issue with getting Malcolm to bring him everything he needs and giving him the extra money for the week. He makes sure to cover all the bases, he got you presents, a small cake, and of course stuff to decorate the living room.

The decorations in the living room aren’t necessarily the best. Brahms hasn’t been responsible for doing anything like this in his whole life. But he still does his best to try and impress you and make you happy. Just don’t expect for his best to be very good. After all, it is the thought that counts.

Honestly Brahms not being self centered for once should be enough of a surprise. It’s your birthday so he’ll make sure to be on his best behavior just for you! No tantrums or arguing, he promises! He even makes sure to hide the schedule for the day to make sure you know that today you get to relax.

Of course, you’ll still have to cook since Brahms is only capable of making sandwiches. His peanut butter to jelly ratio may be perfect but that’s not exactly the type of meal he thinks you would want on your birthday. So he does make sure to get the ingredients for all of your favorite foods!

Your presents include expensive jewelry, pretty clothes, and of course lingerie although that’s more of a gift for Brahms than it is for you. He’ll have you model all of the dresses and clothes that he got you. The big finale is the lace bra and underwear that you won’t be wearing for much longer.

Brahms is a switch and usually ends up being the more submissive one in bed. Tonight however, he’ll co for a change of pace and be more dominant. For once, he was the one spoiling you instead of the other way around and that brings out the more mature and dominant side of him. Expect o be sore the next day though, Brahms isn’t exactly good with holding back.

Billy Loomis

Billy has a tendency to be narcissistic and obviously an ass. But he can also be great at hiding those traits. On your birthday he makes sure to do exactly that, really playing up the bad boy/boy next door front he’s capable of. Tatum did believe that he was practically perfect, and on your special day, he’ll do his best to do exactly that.

He may not have the same money as Stu, but he still manages to spoil you. You’ll have his full attention for the day and he let you decide almost everything. Billy even lets you pick out the movies that you watch together on your birthday, which is something he’s never allowed to happen before.

Seeing you be happy gives him a funny feeling that he’s not used to which can cause him to act a little awkward. You throw him off a little bit. He didn’t expect to care so much about someone until you fell into his lap. He’s a simp for you and he knows it. If he wasn’t then he wouldn’t be making reservations for that fancy restaurant you loved and buying you a new outfit just for said reservation. Yeah he’s down bad.

Makes sure that you order whatever you want, today cost doesn’t matter. But if he knows your favorite, he orders for you in an attempt to impress you. See, he remembers your favorite food, isn’t he just the best. Also gets your favorite over priced dessert even if you have to take it to go. He can’t bake and he knows that store bought cake just doesn’t compare to the fancy restaurants.

He bought you lingerie for under that cute little outfit and he expects to see it by the end of night. Expect to pinned against the front door before either of you has the chance to unlock it. Billy has been imagining you in nothing but your birthday suit all night and he simply cannot wait any longer.

There’s nothing he enjoys more than seeing you fall apart underneath him. He loves seeing you look absolutely cock drunk with your makeup smeared on your face. Your moans and begs eventually begin to melt together and you just become and incoherent mess as he makes you cum again and again. It’s still not enough for him though, he’s going to make you scream.

Stu Macher

He is very determined to make you have the best day over. Expect breakfast in bed! It may not be great but eat it anyways, Stu is not a morning person and he managed to drag his ass out of bed early just for you. So even if the scrambled eggs have the occasional crunch to them it’s best to just grin and bear it.

Is very determined to take you shopping. Expect for him to buy you anything that you touch or pick up. Like the amazing boyfriend he is he will also carry the many bags that you end up with. You’ll have a brand new wardrobe by the end of the day. Of course he made you pick out a few lingerie sets. He even pointed out the ones he liked and made you find your size.

Of course, Stu will still take you out to a fancy restaurant and do the whole traditional night out thing. After dinner though the two of you will end up on the roof of his house that he made sure to help you out on. Stu is secretly a hopeless romantic deep down and will spend time looking at the stars with you because he thinks it’s something that you would like. Will listen to you as you ramble on about planets and watch as you point out constellations if that’s something you do.

Stu is very clingy at all times so he will be hanging over you all day. That’s nothing really out of the ordinary though. But usually those touches include grabbing your boobs, smacking your ass, and rubbing your hips. On your birthday the touches turn more gentle. Expect him to gently tuck your hair behind your ear so he can see your face, gently caressing your cheek, rubbing your knuckles while he holds your hand, all soft and sweet gestures to convey he truly does care.

He’s usually very fast paced with everything including talking, movements, and of course that includes in bed. But tonight he’ll be slow and gentle, drawing everything out. Also makes sure to focus on your pleasure instead of his own for once.

Asa Emory

Asa never thought he would celebrate anyone’s birthday. He certainly never celebrated his own and doesn’t see the point in doing so. To him, birthdays are just another day and there’s no point in celebrating ageing. So he went about most of his life ignoring birthdays, until you came along.

Asa adored you and your enthusiasm for life and all the good things in the world. You were a bright person, especially when compared to him, and he loved the innocence about it. So when you began to mention your birthday coming up with excitement in your voice he knew that you had expectations for your special day.

He may not be a person who celebrates but he’ll be damned if he disappoints. You’re the one good thing life has given him and he’s not letting you get away from him. If that means getting you a small cupcake and sticking a candle in it and a present then so be it. He can manage doing a little something for you.

When he’s not in his collector persona he is much more awkward and an absolute dork in your eyes. So when he takes you out for a nice dinner you’ll notice his slightly off behavior. Asa doesn’t like crowded public spaces and you’ll be able to pick up on his fidgeting. Luckily your good at carrying the conversation for him.

Asa appreciates that you understand it’s hard for him. So when you begin to do most of the talking and don’t pressure him to contribute much to the conversation besides the occasional nod he’s able to relax.

On the way home he gets nervous once more. What if you hate the present he got for you or expected more. He had only gotten you one thing and it wasn’t much. But when you finally open it and you light up like a kid on Christmas morning he lets out a heavy sigh and finally relaxes. It was only a simple necklace but you acted like he had just handed you the stars.

Asa will be surprisingly gentle with you for one night. Of course, he’ll still tie you up and absolutely wreck you but he makes sure to leave out the cutting and biting out for once. The only bruises you have will be on your hips from his harsh grip. It’s the closest thing you’re going to get to love making from him, but you know him well enough to get the meaning behind it.

Jesse Cromeans

Anything you want and it’s yours, he can make anything happen for you. He makes sure to tie up any loose ends with his business well before your birthday so that nothing can interrupt his time spent with you. Of course he makes sure to spoil you even more than he normally does.

Would love to take you on some fancy vacation and stay in one of the finest hotels there. Go ahead, pick any place you want to travel to and he’ll make the arrangements. He makes sure that anywhere he takes you is more private and remote rather than tourist-y though. Both so that he feels more comfortable and so that you can feel special and not have to deal with crowds.

Does the whole flower petals on the bed, candles, flowers, ice bucket with champagne kind of ordeal back at the hotel. Did you really expect him not to though? He has the money to so why not and he knows that even though you claim it’s cheesy that you absolutely love it. Th blush on your face and look in your eyes give away your love of cheesy things and he pays attention to every little thing you do.

Of course you get new jewelry, designer clothes, and lingerie but you get other gifts as well. Pretty much anything you’ve mentioned to him recently he makes sure to get you. Rambling on about that new book your favorite author just released? It’s yours! Been needing new materials for any of your hobbies? You got them!

Expect rough sex. Jesse rarely does gentle and with how much smaller you are than him he can sometimes accidentally hurt you. Your just so small and fragile compared to him kitten, he can’t help it. Of course he always makes sure to take care of you afterwards with a hot bath and will gently massage the knots out of your muscles. Jesse always makes sure that you’re taken care of.

[canonobsessions]

Hey there and welcome to tumblr!! i’m a huge simp for Julian lol im so happy to see somebody writing for TPB! <3 i was wondering if you could write something involving Julian and a cudding -> confession -> sex sort of situation with a female reader?

a/n: I'm so sorry for this late response! I'd be so happy to!

Fandom: Trailer Park Boys

Word Count: 4,243

Scenario: Julian and Reader have an impromptu cuddling session that results in a confession and subsequently, a steamy encounter.

Julian didn't know how it got to this point, but he wasn't about to complain. Sometimes everything just fell into place, so when you arrived that night at his trailer on a cold, dark winter's night he rolled with it. It was just a mishap, your car breaking down before you were able to get home. Like many people, you came to him with your problem.

Unlike with some other people, Julian was happy to help you out. He didn't hesitate when he stepped aside and let you track slushy snow into his home. It didn't even cross his mind until he was stepping in it himself. Even then, it only made him more aware of your state of dress.

You definitely hadn't intended to be out long, with your short sleeves on and little to no protective clothing. You looked frigid and he had just the remedy for it.

So, you wound up on his couch, wrapped up and sharing a blanket with him while watching some schlocky action film. Nothing he was actually paying attention too. How could he be with you in the room, taking a small sip of his Rum and Coke with that pretty smile on your face.

It was almost like a dream.

"Julian, I really can't thank you enough again. I'm sorry to just drop in on you like this," He'd just gotten ready to go to bed when you'd arrived, but even then, it wasn't any kind of a bother with you around. But, he had to play it cool as he always did.

"It's no trouble, [Y/N]. Stop worrying about it," He reassured you for the fifth time, taking the moment to wrap his arm around your shoulder and squeeze reassuringly. "You couldn't help it, probably the cold messing with your car. I'll get some of the guys to help get it fixed in the morning,"

And there was that damn smile that roped him in from the moment he'd met you. At first he'd just thought he was drunk, but he'd come to learn you were as capable and friendly as you were pretty. You were one of the few people who came around the Trailer Park and helped him and his friends out on occasion.

The situation had gotten twisted up to where it almost seemed awkward to pursue you with how close you'd gotten to Bubbles and Ricky as well. That being said, he was also always in a relationship when you weren't. Nothing really ever seemed right until now.

Now. He had to find the courage to say it, but there was that pitch of anxiety in his stomach, the one he thought he could stamp out in almost any occasion, but you were special. He didn't want to mess this up.

"You're really too good to me, Jules," A damn shiver nearly crawled up his spine when you said that. That and the way you were shaking just sent a small thrill through him.

Were you still cold or were you nervous to have his arm around you? With the way you leaned into him further, it couldn't have just been nerves. You did still feel chilly, so he gently rubbed your upper arm. He wasn't just feeling your soft skin under his rough finger tips. This was just part of helping you.

Man was that stupid, he was acting like he hadn't had his fair share of pretty girls over. But, you were more than pretty, you were beautiful. Classy and sweet.

"Just doing what any good friend would," The word friend had a near sour note to it, not from leaving his mouth, but it just rang oddly. He wasn't malicious about it. It just wasn't right.

"Yeah, right!" There was an awkward inflection in your tone, but he wasn't going to push it. You were probably just more comfortable with being friends after all.

"Damn, my feet are still freezing," You'd complain quietly after a brief silence and Julian reacts without thinking about it.

"C'mere," He reached down to your ankle and grabbed it, gently coaxing your feet up onto the couch. You adjusted to the hold folding your legs off to the side. Your [E/C] eyes are filled with curiosity. He offered a smile before drawing your feet into his stomach, where he was more than warm enough to help bring you up to temp.

"When I was a kid, my grandmother would do this for me when I'd come inside after playing in the snow," He recalled the late nights he spent watching old movies with his grandmother, eating snacks and keeping warm and cuddled up together. Of course, she'd been plenty warmed up from the brandy she'd consumed time and time again.

That sweet smile of yours was back once again, but accompanying it was a pretty blush that colored your face perfectly. He couldn't help his mind when it wandered to a less wholesome thought. What would you look like, red and panting under him? What were other ways you of all people could let him warm you up?

"That's really sweet. She must have been one hell of a lady to raise someone as gentlemanly as you, Jules," You might have been somewhat teasing, but he felt warm from the compliment. She had been as good of a role-model as she could be, doing everything she could for not only him, but for Bubbles as well.

"Thanks, [Y/N]," He patted your blanket covered calf with his hand and left it there for a moment, idly tracing his thumb over your muscle in a soothing manner.

Things got quiet again as you both sat there, watching the screen with little interest in what was going on. Julian was far more focused on how good it felt to have you curled against him and to feel your legs move. You were warming up and you were tantalizingly soft. It was driving him crazy, but he was being good.

You didn't drink much of his Rum and Coke, but you did have a sip or two, just to stave off any lingering cold.

"Julian, can I ask you something?" You'd knocked him out of his thoughts with that soft inquiry. He looked at you and felt his stomach flip, seeing your uncertain look.

"Anything," It was one small word, but he put a lot of feeling behind it. It sat heavy between the two of you for a heart-beat. Time really seemed to slow as he felt the way you were starting to shake again. The way you bit your lip and fluttered your lashes, looking at him with those eyes. It really felt like you told him everything he needed to know through body language alone.

Julian leaned in, his dark eyes searching yours for a solid answer, something more than just the way your body was calling out for him.

"Do you like me, just as a friend?" He wanted to kiss the uncertainty right out of your mouth and swallow it. How could someone as beautiful and amazing as you be so unsure of what you did to him?

"More than that," His words came out softer, rougher as he tried to reign himself in. "Does that make you uncomfortable?" He didn't want to scare you. You didn't have a ride home, it was too cold to walk off. He didn't want to misread what was going on. He was playing it safe.

"No!" It was like you were yelping, like he’d hit you in the stomach with that simple question. It gave away how eager you were and Julian couldn’t help but chuckle when you clasped your dainty hand over your mouth. “No, I’m sorry. You could never make me uncomfortable. Well, not like that,” The words fell from your lips like snow from the sky. “So I do make you uncomfortable?” He was teasing you now, relishing in the fact that you’d made that first move. You’d been the one to bravely ask him just what he thought of you and it made you flustered. You weren’t uncomfortable and you didn’t feel unsafe. Good. He wouldn’t have been able to handle it otherwise. “I like you too, Julian,” Finally, you’d admit it yourself. You’d put it out there that you were interested in him and he was interested in you. It was like that last wall came tumbling down. It made you look bare and vulnerable and unsure. That just made him want to scoop you into his arms and show you just how sure he was of the situation. “So, what now,” You’d asked, looking to him for guidance. Those big, beautiful eyes drew him right in. He wasn’t going to answer you with flowery words, he was going to show you. Julian made slow moves, roping you into him with room enough to say no if you wanted to. His large palms felt right at home, gripping your thighs and tugging you to where you were seated firmly on his lap. That little gasp that left your lips only made him drag you down harder onto him, letting you feel just how much he liked you. “What do you want, [Y/N]?” He felt the way you were shaking against him, the way you tilted your pelvis to align yourself with him. As if he were a virgin again, you had him shuddering with his restraint. He palmed your thighs, rubbing them soothingly. “I-I mean, I want you, Julian, b-but not just, ah,” He couldn’t help but to rock himself up into your core when you admitted you wanted him. There was no missing that you wanted more though, so he stilled, his dark eyes searching yours again, wondering what had you hesitating. “I don’t just want to be a fling,” Of course you didn’t, he didn’t either. But, it wasn’t like he had a particularly strong history of long, stable relationships. He had more one-night stands than he did real girlfriends he’d kept in his life. How could you not see you were different than those other girls was lost on him. Both of his hands traced up from your thighs, jumping to smooth up your arms and to your neck. He savored touching you while he thought about just how deeply he wanted to reassure you. He traced a path up to your neck, where he threaded his fingers into your hair, his thumb resting on the slope of your jawline. You wouldn’t be able to look away if you tried. He met your gaze, dark brows set into a serious furrow. “Never. [Y/N], you could never be just a fling for me,” He admitted, his voice hoarse with desire and love. He didn’t want to give you a chance to respond. Gently, he pulled you into a solid, warm kiss. Your lips molded to his perfectly. Just slightly wet from how you’d licked it only moments before. He poured his passion and love for you into it, hoping to smooth out any worries that he wasn’t dead serious on how much he liked you. Julian pulled a weak moan from you when he pulled away, your lips sticking together for a split second, sending a firework of pleasure down his spine. He wanted to devour you. His big hand cradled your head as he went in for another kiss, mouth opening just slightly to mouth your lips, to trace your tongue with his own. Just the coupling, the breathy noises and moans he pulled from you were drowning out the sound of gunfire from the busted up looking television just behind you. Nothing could distract him from how perfect you felt seated on top of him. How delicious your lips were, how easily you opened up to him. How many times had he dreamt of this? Could he even count the times you’d been at the forethought of his mind when he’d jerked himself off in the shower? Now that you’d both been honest, he could make those wild

fantasies real. “Julian,” Your voice was quaking, full of lust and need that he felt hit right through him. If that wasn’t enough to tell him you needed more, the way you were grinding on his hard cock was. A near growl left the dark haired man as he greedily grasped your ass, hoisting you further onto him. He stood up with ease, the blanket covering the two of you quickly forgotten. Any previous cold having been ripped away by red-hot need. That squeal had him chuckling between your dainty kisses. He easily brought you down that narrow hall, taking just a moment to push you against the paneling to indulge in tasting you. His tongue was more than eager to tangle with your own, the sloppy noises louder still now that you were away from the TV. Back on the move, Julian kicked open his bedroom door, relishing in the way you giggled at how forceful he’d been. Instead of throwing you onto the bed, he moved all the way to it’s edge, lowering you down onto it like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held in his hands. “God, you are beautiful, [Y/N],” Julian rasped as he admired how perfect you looked on his bed, flushed and lips swollen from how excited the two of you had been to do something as simple as kiss. “Julian,” Your voice took a serious tone, your own brows ticking down as you reached up with your now warm hands, letting them rest on his face, thumb tracing along the sharply trimmed line of his beard. “Julian, you’re beautiful too, so handsome. I can’t believe you want me too,” You were gushing, about him of all people. Shaking his head, Julian took your hands into his own, placing a kiss on your knuckles. He allowed himself the chance to really look at you, just as you were. His heart filled with affection for you. For just the way you spoke to him, marveling at him. “I can’t believe an angel like you would want anything to do with a man like me,” Julian’s voice was low and dark as he leaned back in, dying for another taste of you. This time, things went further, his hands roaming eagerly while your mouths met passionately in their own special patterns. He squeezed your shoulders, massaged down your arms and to your stomach. Testing the waters, his thick fingers peaked under your flimsy shirt, stroking at the soft skin of your belly. The way your muscles flexed and you moaned made him take liberties, inching up your ribs to rub smooth, firm circles there. With your last chance squandered through a needy moan, Julian’s large hands cupped your breasts for a firm squeeze, savoring in a moment he’d imagined just a short time ago. Julian swallowed every needy noise you made as he massaged your breasts, his hips rolling down to meet your needy movements. All at once there was too much fabric in the way. You were pulling at his shirt as soon as he move away, pulling it off of his body and revealing his strong chest and shoulders. Just as excited, Julian hooked his thumbs into your shirt, pulling it up and hooking your bra with it, baring your chest to him in one smooth motion, proving just how experienced he was. God, you were a delicious sight. Your breasts heaving in the dim light of his room. Gravity knew what it was doing and it had Julian speechless. Before long, the temptation was too strong, he dove in for another kiss, smoothing over your shy features with a reassuring kiss. His lips were eager to move, leaving a damp trail of kisses down your jaw and neck. He licked at the dip of your clavicle and relished in the way you shook and gasped. Smirking up at you, dark eyes smoldering with lust, he licked a trail to your right breast, nipping at the flexible flesh he found there. Every little sensation was drawing up for the moment he took your nipple into his hot mouth, tongue lapping as he suckled. He made sure your left breast didn’t go unattended, his thick, rough fingers plucking at the pert tip, rolling the bud in between his fingers, toying with you as he enjoyed himself thoroughly. “God, Julian, your mouth is so warm,” You whimpered, egging him on, your legs curling

around his thighs, beckoning him in for more. But, yet again, there were too many clothes in the way. But, he was a practiced man, he wanted to rile you up. There was an art to getting a woman ready. He switched to the other nipple, leaving the right to tighten and harden in the cold air. Your fingers found his normally tidy black hair, mussing up the styling by tugging him closer. “P-please, stop teasing me,” You needed more, that much was obvious with how insistently you rolled up into him. He could feel just how hot and burning you were at your core, the heat between the two of you felt like it was enough to burn the clothes right from your body. Julian chuckled lowly, shaking his head as he pulled away from your breast. His eyes locked onto yours once more and he gave you a dark smirk. “No need to rush, [Y/N]. You’ll be here until your car is fixed after all,” He teased. You looked so cute when your covered your face, no doubt feeling embarrassed for your needy reaction. He took his time with you. He tasted you, licking a path down your ribs and your stomach, coming to the button of your pants. He didn’t take too long to pull off both them and your panties, revealing your glistening petals to the cool air. You groaned at the sensation and he marveled at just how beautiful you were. Thick fingers traced lazy circles into your inner thighs working their way to your core. He wasn’t ashamed as he looked at your folds, the way your clit was already swollen and eager from the bare minimum frotage. His thumbs swiped along the outer lips, pulling them apart, making way for his broad tongue as he licked a line up from your core to your clit, popping it into his mouth swiftly for a change of pace. You tasted delicious on his tongue, tart and sweet all at once. Greedily, he buried his face into your core, his tongue diving into your soft folds. The tight ring of your cunt was no match for him, the muscle pushed as deep into you as it could, the pad of his thumb taking up stroking your taut pearl in tandem with his thrusts. He listened to your moans as he worked you over, dragging more of your wetness out, preparing you for him. And when it sounded like you were just at your apex, he pulled away. “Oh god, Julian,” It was nearly scolding the way you said his name, but he wasn’t going to leave you wanting for long, deciding to instead unfasten his pants, eagerly ridding himself of his pants and underwear. He stood nude in front of you, taking his large, girthy dick into his hands, stroking it slowly at the debaucherous sight of you, of all people, spread out on his bed, all for him. “Please, I need you, I need you,” That could’ve nearly done him in there, just the way you were pleading for him. Telling him you needed him, and god did he need to be needed. The fact it was just in this way was icing on the cake. Not wasting anymore time, Julian’s hands gripped your hips, lining you up just the way he wanted you. He bent over and steadied himself, peppering your lips with kisses as he guided himself in. Already he could tell you were going to be a tight fit, there was going to be some discomfort, but not for long. It didn’t seem like you minded much, with how eagerly your heels dug into the strong muscle of his back, eager to sink him in. His swollen head pushed into you, sinking deeper with one slow push that had him groaning, his head tilting back as he savored the squeeze around his manhood. His free hand massaged lazily at your stomach as he sunk in. You let out the most tantalizing little grunts and moans, soft hisses as your body adjusted to take his massive size. “Soo big,” You whimpered. God if only you knew what you did to him with that tender little voice. He wanted to bury his cock in you forever and stay there until the day he died. Gritting his teeth, he pushed the last few inches in, steadily massaging you while holding himself back. It wasn’t until you tested the fit by rocking your hips back and forth that he finally allowed himself to take pure pleasure in your body. It wasn’t the

slow pace he’d initially wanted. No, as soon as he was in you, he realized how badly he needed this. For every smile and sweet word, he wanted to set a punishing pace. He wanted to completely fold you in half and hammer his way into your body and show just how badly he needed you. But, for the sake of your health, he set a steady pace. He leaned back to look at the place where your body met his and nearly came right there. “Fuck,” He cursed, staring at the lewd way your cunt was stretched out over his cock. “Sit up, just a bit, fuckin’ look at it,” He coaxed you into sitting up, his hand finding its way to the back of your neck again. Your eyes almost glazed over with how eagerly you looked at your coupling. Your plump, tantalizing lip was gnawed at between your pearly whites. Julian drew back his cock with a hiss, his head rolling back again, only to snap to attention, watching the show as he sunk back into your hot, silky insides. “You’re taking me so well, [Y/N]. You’re doing so good,” He grunted out praise after praise, his pace rocking steadily now, your wetness coating him and guiding him in with more ease. Finally, it seemed you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer, instead falling back to moan his name. He doubled over, catching himself again, bracing himself on either side of your head. His pace quickened, he could feel the way his balls slapped against your ass, damp from how wet you were. It made degenerate sounds, slapping skin against skin. It drove him up a wall, almost as much as your blissful expression. He burned the memory of you savoring his cock into the back of his mind, before hooking both of his hands under your knees. With his strength, Julian nearly folded you in half, angling you to where his cock would hit your deepest, most sensitive parts. When he found the place that made you sing loudest, he hammered into it. Not to be ignored, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, freeing up a hand so that he could reach between the two of you and work diligently at your little bud. “Oh god, oh god, Jules, Julian, fuck, fuck, fuck! I-I’m gonna cum,” And he could feel it when it started, the way you arched your back, your hips taking a mind of their own, jerking up to meet his deep thrusts. Your walls clenched so tightly around him he could barely pull away, but he managed to keep his pace, drilling into you. “Fuckin’ cum around me, cum around me, [Y/N], just like that, just like that,” He grunted, thrusting so hard he was shaking the bed beneath you, the sound only adding to the symphony of sex. The rush of sticky fluids made him pound that much harder into you. Your crying, writhing form the perfect state for him to hammer at until he felt his own familiar band pulling tight, eventually snapping as pleasure overwhelmed him. He didn’t pull out as his cum filled your tight little body. He empty his balls as deep into you as he could, his pulsing manhood twitching with every stream of the load. He only realized as he began to come down from his high he’d came right against your cervix. He shuddered out another low groan, joining your soft panting in the air. “Fuck, Julian, ah, hah. I love you,” You were unabashed now, looking at him with your dazed look, as if he were a god and not some backwater trailer park boy. “I love you too, so much,” He hung over you, his sweaty forehead coming to rest against yours. He breathed with you, coming down from his high to finally ease out of you, ignoring the mess he made in favor of pulling you into his arms. The air slowly quieted as you both lay there, basking in bliss, warm and naked despite no blanket. It was hard to believe that he’d been uncertain of your feelings for him. Just an hour ago, neither of you had been aware of just how quickly things would go. But, there were no regrets. Only love and a sense of safety.

[quirklessidiot]

Title: blood son [oneshot; filthy rich sequel]  Pairing: millionare!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au ft. kageyama tobio as your son] Genre: major angst ahead, thriller, yandere!au-ish

Synopsis: A full circle of madness finally comes to an end.

Warnings: sexual themes, rape, yandere behaviorisms (just some obsessive and disturbing stuff), very dark themes, anxiety, trauma, depression, eating disorder, unwanted pregnancy/children (y/n hates her kid here), suicide,  gaslighting, and Y/N’s decent to madness

Notes: happy 800 due to a lot of uh people asking for a short sequel, here it is...for better understanding, please read filthy rich skskksks anyways onto the story…i cant write smut for shit sIKE also fuck men and women like this, if you see them chok’em and chunk’em in the basin.  yes tobio is ur bby boy here idk kageyama and sakusa have the same energy i just couldnt resist i swear sksks

Filthy rich // series masterlist

A moan escapes your lips when you feel the hot liquid fill your hole, your expression is tantalizing and completely erotic. Something that he can’t seem to stop looking at, your body that was now a canvas of his marks, was a reminder that no one could have you. 

You're oblivious to it all, the things he did. The things he wanted to do to you, the dark thoughts, you were like a small rabbit in the den of a large wolf. Completely trusting, completely dumb and he’s taking advantage of it.

He stuffs and fills you up with his seed so that you’ll never leave him. 

He wants to breed you.

Your belly swelling with his children.

It was definitely a dream come true.

Your eyes snap back to reality as the bus stops in front of the new town, you had moved towns earlier since the town started to become a tourist destination. The idea of staying there would be too risky despite having the alias of Kageyama Miwa. You were still in hiding and you feared to even open the news despite it being eight years since you ran away.

“Okaasan, are we going to go down now?” a small voice asks.

You turn to find his son staring right at you, it had been a cruel reminder for him to look a lot like his father. You knew that he didn’t have any part in this, he was a victim just like you but you couldn’t help but be distant and not-so affectionate.

This was his kid.

His blood.

You couldn’t help but shrivel away.

“...Okaasan will just take her duffel bag on the overhead, just wait right behind me.” You say quietly. Tobio was a good boy, he was quiet and obedient. If the circumstances had been different, you’d adore him but every time you looked at him, all you saw was his wretched father and the unnamed things he did in the name of ‘love’.

To be honest, you didn’t know what else Sakusa did aside from trying to get you pregnant and holding you back from leaving. 

You didn’t even want to try to find out. If he was willing to go through such lengths to have you stay, it was more than enough reason to run away. You held onto your child’s hands as you made your way to your new home, it was smaller than the last one but this was alright.

It was clean and livable.

Tobio stays at the side, out of your way as you begin to fix up the house. The young boy isn’t social for his age towards his peers and you should be worried yet you can’t bring yourself to be, “Okaasan’s going to go to the grocery store, would you like anything?” you ask.

“Milk.”

“Alright, just stay here okay?”

He meekly nods as you awkwardly pat his head and  tie your roughly chopped hair in a tight ponytail, over the course of eight years, time has not been kind to you. You had grown unhealthily thin, probably lost some hair due to stress, and the bags underneath your eyes due to the lack of good sleep was evident.

You tell yourself that he isn’t looking for you now.

That he probably found a new plaything but you couldn’t help but look behind your shoulder every time. You didn’t even expect to get this far away, last you heard whilst you were at the station towards the last town eight years ago, you were being searched up and down by the police all over Tokyo.

You really thought you’d be found out and you feared for the worse but the farther you went, the less news reports you saw.

They probably thought you had died.

Which was good on your part that time because you’d rather be dead in a ditch than be caught up with a man like him again.

“...-Kusa Kiyoomi is expected to marry the daughter of Akiko Corp soon…”

You tense up at the mention of the very familiar name as you pass by the appliance store, shakily you turn to the tv screen to find a video of Sakusa Kiyoomi with a woman who had the same hair color as yours. Everything around you is muted now as his cold gaze fills the tv screen, your heart is thumping quick. 

He isn’t here.

He isn’t here.

“...It’s quite the love story of the century, don’t you think? After the disappearance of Kiyoomi’s beloved eight years ago, he met her a few years back and he seems to be doing well.” The tv anchor smiles on the screen as she talks to her co-host but inside you were shaking, what did happen to your missing person report? Curiosity starts to gnaw your insides as you head to the internet café before going to the grocery store.

You didn’t have the guts to look then but after seeing that report, you pull up on the secluded part of the internet café and search up your case. Your mouth dries up, the search was still on-going much to your surprise. There was even a website dedicated to it, “...Y/N L/N might be suffering from hysteria and psychological problems, please contact us immediately when you see her.”

Your eyes narrowed at the report as you shakily cup your mouth and choke back a laugh, that bastard really had the audacity to diagnose you with that when he was the one sick to the head.

Once again, the bile on your throat starts to pile up.

It still wasn’t safe.

You’d probably live your whole life on the run.

On the run with his son that scarily resembled him, how fucking cruel.

Sakusa Kiyoomi’s eyes glaze over the small town in discontent, apparently his bride-to-be wanted to get married here and who was he to refuse? All he wanted to do was get this over with so her father can shut up.

“Kiyoomi-san.” a small dainty voice calls out, he turns to his side to find (h/c) staring right at him. Akiko Hideyo is the daughter of one of the most powerful businessmen in Tokyo, he met her at a function a few years ago.

The very first time he saw her was from behind, it was a rather scary resemblance that he had to stop himself from approaching her by calling your name yet when he started to talk to her and hear her dainty voice, he realizes that she’s not even like you at all.

She was gentle and dainty like a deer.

Albeit his little bunny was gentle when they got together sometimes, he always recalled how you were filled with spunk. How you weren’t even afraid to put him in his place and how you were all over the place but seem to look beautiful whilst doing so.

He always recalled wanting to control you yet you never seem to succumb to it.

It had been eleven years since you first met, eight years since you had disappeared without a single trace and Sakusa is stuck with some third-rate look alike for relief. Every time they fucked, it was always from behind. Hideyo thinks it’s just his preference but in reality, it was because her back had such strong resemblance to you and he’d imagine every time that it was you.

He misses the roughness, the high, the erotica. 

The only things you could provide.

It was never enough, it was only you, you, and you.

“...Have you decided what flavor you wanted? Komori-san mentioned that you liked vanilla.” his fiancé meekly says.

Hideyo was boring.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s just doing this because he has never seen someone closely resembling you, “Anything would be fine.” He replied in a clipped tone. As the car comes to a halt for a moment because of a large truck backing from a driveway, his attention shifted towards a young boy bouncing a volleyball against the pavement outside his window. There are scratches on his knee cap yet the boy had a blank look on his face, he was sort of reminded of himself when he was younger.

As he was about to look away, he sees a woman approach the young boy and bends down to his level to check the scratches.

The woman’s small figure isn’t even the least bit familiar yet his attention can’t seem to go away. He watches her tuck the strand of stray hair and he finally gets a good look and it feels like the world stops turning at how the woman scarily resembles you. Albeit the figure was smaller and the hair was another color and unevenly chopped short.

It was no mistake.

“Y/N.” He mumbles yet as he’s about to open the door, the car starts to move. Kiyoomi’s fist tightens as he uncharacteristically yells at the driver to stop the car, Hideyo jumps on the seat and before she could say anything else, the business mongrel is out of the car, running to where you stood.

Yet just like a ghost, you were gone and so was the little boy who had oddly resembled him.

These days you had even a harder time sleeping. Maybe it was because there was a little leak on the ceiling, or better yet, maybe it was because the heater wasn’t working, or maybe it was because you were at a new place which made it harder to adjust.

You sat at the side with your expense book on hand, your gaze on his son who was peacefully asleep. Tobio was growing older soon and he needed to settle down at one place for high school and college. A part of yourself ventured deep and dark in your mind, the thought of leaving him at an orphanage seemed better now.

He had a fake last name anyways, the bastard wouldn’t be able to find him. 

You’d be doing this boy a favor since you never saw him as your kid and he’d be away from his very messy world.

Your thoughts are immediately disrupted when you hear a brief knock on the door. This made you tense up, it was late, Why would there be a need for visitors? Your son is quick to be awoken by the second knock and you immediately press your hand on his mouth and while your other finger is on your lips to signal him to keep quiet.

Another knock.

Tobio looks worried, it wasn’t his first time to see an episode from you but this time, something feels different. You're shaking more and you look like you’re about to pass out any moment. “Stay quiet.” you mouth as you crawl towards the door and press your ear on it to confirm who was on the other side, too afraid to even take a peak on the window.

Silence.

The only sound that could be heard was your thumping heart, Tobio had voluntarily placed a hand on his mouth to keep himself quiet.

Another knock.

You shut your eyes tight, praying to whatever god out there for this person to leave.

“...I don’t think anyone lives here.” You hear someone say on the other side, the voice sounded so familiar but you just couldn’t pinpoint who it was, this wasn’t Sakusa for sure,  “Are you sure that the information was right?”

Silence again.

“Hm.” The person hummed, knocking again, “Well, this place seems like a dead end. The landlady said that she’s not familiar with the tenants here so we could be wrong…”

The voice started to decrease and you feel yourself slowly starting to breathe easier. Tobio slowly put down his hand and there you saw it, the fear on his eyes. You breathe in and out, calming yourself, this place isn't safe anymore, “Tobio, take your bags. We’re leaving.” you only say.

You don’t even hesitate to leave despite it being the middle of the night.

Tobio is right in front of you as you go down your small apartment and you think everything is well, you really do yet luck didn’t seem to be on your side that night.

“...Y/N?”

A dreadfully familiar voice calls out, didn’t they leave? Why? why was he here?

“O-Okaasan.” Tobio mumbles, grabbing your hand and hiding behind you.

Your head hurts, you wanted to just be selfish and leave Tobio here with this man, his father, the wretched, vile creature who had betrayed you. You wanted to run.

You didn’t feel safe.

Sakusa Kiyoomi didn’t make you feel safe.

“Y/N…” He repeats, slowly approaching you, “It’s me, bunny.”

Oh, how you hated that pet name. It sounded like you were his plaything, like you could never escape from his set-up. Before you could say anything else, he invades your personal space once again and envelopes you in a very,very tight hug.

“I’ve missed you so, so much.” He whispers on your ear and your shivering, not from pleasure but from fear, “Shh, it’s alright. I found you. It must’ve been hard to be alone out here.”

Get away.

Get away.

“Get the fuck away from me.” You yell, pushing him off of you as you stagger away from him. Tobio remains behind you, completely shaking.

“Now, Y/N-” he tries to shush you, “We should go home now, you’ve spent so much time away from me but I understand, you were probably just scared to tell me you were pregnant, right?” 

He cups the right side of your face and places a chaste kiss on your temple, tears are threatening to spill as you realize that this was all over. You couldn’t escape now, this lunatic wouldn’t let you have at it.

The soft and plush bed is completely foreign to your back, Kiyoomi had you separated from Tobio because apparently you were still too ‘unstable’. It made you mentally scoff, between the both of you, he was the unstable one.

You wondered if they started to feed the small boy lies about you, Kiyoomi definitely milked it out to the press for sure. When he had found you, not only were your friends and family in a frenzy, the media was having a field day too. He had broken off the engagement and he used your ‘mental illness’ card on them and it worked.

Another story was weaved on papers, a love that transcended through time.

You let out a low sardonic laugh.

Mental Illness, you wondered if this could be a ploy for a suicide. After all, you’d rather be face first on the pavement than stay here with a son about to be fed on lies and a crazy bastard who sleeps next to you at night.

You stare out your window, the curtains were drawn as you looked at the free birds.

How envious.

“Y/N?” Kiyoomi comes in, a food tray in hand, “It’s time for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Y/N it’s been two days, all you ate was an apple-”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Y/N, our son-”

“He was never my son.” You harshly snapback, your voice sharp, “He’s yours through and through, a fucking incarnate of you and a curse. He’s not mine. He never will be.”

You suddenly feel the presence of the small boy behind the door and there stands his boy, staring right at your eyes yet you feel nothing for him. You never felt anything for him. The moment they placed him on your arms to nurse, there was no joy nor light.

All he brought was a painful reminder.

Kiyoomi places the tray to the side and closes the door behind him, Tobio’s blank gaze still on you, “...Those aren’t words a child is supposed to hear, Y/N. Especially ours…” he inches closer and you clench your fist tightly and he places his hand on your neck and lightly holds it. 

You aren’t scared of him anymore, the nicest thing this guy could do was kill you, really.

“Maybe we should have a girl this time, hm?” his hand trails upwards to softly caress the side of your face.

You’re immediately frozen by his sudden choice of words, no, no-

“Maybe you’ll learn to love Tobio even more when you’re pregnant with another of mine-” before he could finish what he was about to say, you raise a hand and slap him right at his face, it must’ve been hard since it left a mark, “Ah, Y/N. I didn’t know you still liked it rough-”

“D-Don’t, I-I can’t get pregnant.” You're shaking this time as you try to come up with a lie, “I-I can’t…”

“Oh?” He tilts his head, “Why not?”

“I’ll die.” You lied, “When I had Tobio I almost died, my body couldn’t handle it. T-The doctor had said that if I were to have another, I’d die…”

The lie didn’t save you that moment, really. He has become an expert at detecting your lies so instead of a reply, he harshly places his lips on yours and despite protests, he just pins you down.

He’s harsh on you that night, spilling and stuffing you with his cum, whispering that you’ll have it all and that you’d be his everything but all you could do was let a small hiccup escape your lips as you tried to hold back your cries.

‘Someone, anyone, please.’ you pleaded internally.

You don’t see Tobio until a week later, the boy has grown a tad bit chubbier and is adorned with expensive clothes. Sakusa, on the other hand, has been force-feeding you to the point where you threw up right after meals (secretly, of course) 

You sit down at the couch as your son blinks at you, “...I’m sorry.” He breaks the silence and you shut your eyes tight as you recalled the harsh words he heard last week.

“I’m sorry too, Tobio.” you could only reply because genuinely, you did feel like you went too far this time. He didn’t choose to be born, a part of you should’ve saved him the misery and left him at the orphanage that time, “Do you hate me?” you ask.

“No.”

“You should.” You say quietly, “You should hate your otosan too.”

Tobio remains quiet at your words.

“When you grow older, don’t end up like him. don’t end up like us. forget us when you have the chance.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good and If you ever get the chance to leave, promise me that you get out and don’t look back.”

Tobio may have been eight years old that time but he knows fear when he sees it and he knows promises aren’t meant to be broken. He remembers those words well because it was the last long conversation he has with you. 

The month of December rolls by and it’s cold, you’ve given up fighting back at this point. Your glassy eyes are directed to the window, not even wanting to look down at your bulging stomach. Kiyoomi doesn’t even need to tell you twice to not leave the house, you decide upon yourself to just stay at your room on bed the whole time.

You wonder, just how high is it from up here? Would it hurt?

“Y/N?” a dreadful voice calls out.

“Hm.” 

“You haven’t gone out of our room in two months. You haven’t even seen Tobio.” Sakusa points out, you were like a obedient doll now. So lifeless, so still, you wished he’d discard you already.

“I might say something again, I don’t want to bother.” You replied truthfully, gaze still avoiding his.

The raven-haired man starts to caress your plump face, you had grown chubbier since the beginning of your pregnancy, he couldn’t be anymore happier to finally be there for you.

This was perfect.

You were finally his.

You weren’t letting go.

“...Don’t you ever regret it?” You finally ask, turning to him, your blank eyes staring at his rather deranged ones, the eyes that you once loved was now just a reminder of your resentful life.

“Which one?” He asks, inching in closer to kiss your neck, your collarbone. You let out a meek sigh as you shut your eyes and internally prayed for this to be over quickly as he removes your ribbon that held your flimsy nightgown together.

“You killed people.” You uttered, “Took my life away, don’t you regret it?”

“Why would I?”

Right, how could a monster like him have such empathy? You feel his cold fingers brush against your folds, trying to stimulate it.

Everything except your body screamed no but you were just too powerless now. You wondered, how could you even end this all? Was jumping out the window the only solution now?

“...Right...” You let out a soft painful moan as he dips his finger inside. You’re under the idea that despite this happening countless of times, you’re body would be numb to it all yet each time it happens, it pains you even more,  “You even had to kill your ex-fiancé’s father for us to get married.”

You had come to realize just how deep his obsession was, the man was willing to kill to anyone who got in the way of your ‘love’. You remembered finding out about your ex-chief one night, about how he had chopped off his fingers and left him to bleed dry in the alleyway for the rats to feast on.

You remembered when a news came up that his supposedly future-father-in-law had died in a violent explosion during breakfast time and how he was nonchalant about it.

“...It’s all for you, Y/N.” He implores as he kissed your thighs and continue to stimulate your now wet folds, “All for you, Tobio, and my new little girl.”

“You’re sick.”

“Mhm. You smell good, I should continue using the soap from awhile ago when I clean you, right?” he hummed, ignoring what you had just said as he dipped his head in and take a kitten lick on your sex. You let out a small cry as your body betrayed you.

Your prayers for today are unheard yet again.

“...Y/N, you barely come out of your room these days.” Komori exclaimed, it turns out the visitor from last time who knocked on your door was him and as much as you wanted to knock his teeth out, you decide not to because you don’t see the point in doing violence these days.

“I’m tired.”

“Yeah, pregnancy does take a toll on your body.” He nods in agreement, it seemed like this was a casual thing for him, like you just weren’t repeatedly rape or mentally abused by his cousin, “Tobio certainly takes after his father, don’t you think?”

Your blood runs cold at the mention of the little boy, you had small hope for him either ways so you didn’t exactly cared for him anymore.

“I suppose so.” 

“You’ve gotten boring these days, Y/N.” Komori plainly pointed out, “It’s a wonder how my cousin gets to stick around ya. No offense.”

“None taken.”

Komori’s eyes narrowed at your hollowed response, you were so ungrateful. Here his cousin was, treating you with such delicateness and with all the attention that the other women wanted but you looked anything but happy about it.

If this was Hideko, she’d be elated.

But no, he had to be stuck with an ungrateful pompous bitch like you.

“How high up are we, Komori-san?” you suddenly ask.

He blinks at the rather weird question, “Fifty floors.”

“Hm.” You hummed, “That certainly is high.”

Komori would regret answering that question very soon though.

When the winter dawned upon a new year and you finally snap, you decide to answer your own prayers and opt to salvage yourself from this madness and cruelty once and for all.

Sakusa Tobio is nine years old when you, his mother, six months pregnant, jumped out the bedroom window from a fifty-foot story building two months into the new year. Your face is flat on the pavement and completely unrecognizable, the last conversation you both had replays on his head like a broken record through the years and only when he’s old enough that he realizes that he was no one’s son. 

His okaasan didn’t loved him nor did he want to be associated with his father for all he did was bring pain and disgust.

The boy is eighteen, fresh out of the academy, right in front of his baby sister’s and your mausoleum. He makes it a habit to visit you both a day before your death anniversary,  not wanting to be in the same room as his father yet this year he makes an exception.

Recently, he had turned over some evidence and his own testimony about what his father had been doing. Everything, from illegal works to the people he killed to your tragic end. It’s enough to file a case and have him set to jail for life, even his fancy lawyers couldn’t defend him. 

His lips sting because his Uncle Komori had punched him in the face and called him an ungrateful bastard like you but it was alright.

It was all over.

He plans to change his name back to Kageyama Tobio (the haux name you had given him when you were on the run) right after all the fiasco, it’s a kind name and the first name you had given him, he likes to think that this was also a gift from you that time, a new beginning straying away from you and his father's cruel ties. He had also felt that it was too unkind for him to use your last name despite his grandparents' persistence (he was after all, conceived through forceful means).

And although he wanted to hate you for those words you said that time when he was eight. He couldn’t really bring himself to after hearing what you had to go through, you were a victim. He couldn’t dare imagine what his father did to you during the last few months leading to your death.

Yet, right now. It was finished.

You could rest now.

“I did it, Y/N-san.” He mumbles as he bows down. As he got older, he has also foregone the idea of calling you by the name you loathed and shriveled away from, “I got out and I didn’t look back. Thank you for everything.”

Kageyama Tobio never visits you right after again, as promised.

[muffindaddystyles]

Please write more of Dove and Harry ? You’d earlier written in ne where she gets lost and Harry can’t find her…. Please some more like that. I really like reading protective Harry for his kids especially daughters!

HARRY HATES A CERATIN PINK BICYCLE BUT DOVE THINKS OTHERWISE :D

Harry has never been this stingy towards things. You don’t hold a beef with stuff round you, right? You hold beefs with actual hell of people who're mighty pests in the name of human being.

But, this. Oh damn this. Four wheeler little pink bicycle, that have sparkling pom-poms around it’s handles, a cute yellow basket corked to it's front and rainbow coloured cups hanging from the back of it’s seat that cackles whenever the wheels roll.

It’s the most obnoxious transporting vehicle, Harry had seen in his whole life. He's kind of grousing in the corner that why out of trillion of toys auntie Gemma had to prove herself the best aunt in the whole world alive and chose this hideous gaggingly pink bicycle.

It just doesn’t makes sense to gift it to a three years old! And when that three years old’s a headstrong little thing, with wilfulness of her daddy and the marbles of kitten in replacement of those eyes.

“Daddy we’ll ‘ve fun, promise!” Her ‘r' vanishes into a whistle since she’s still wary onto speaking huge words, babbling her daddy’s ears off with random shite doesn’t count.

Sometimes Harry thinks; that his 50 years old mum's prisoned and captured into a dainty body of three years old -- and his time has come to get bossed around and scolded for his own good sake.

His mommy in the guise of his little dove.

“How’s tha’ missy!?” Harry squints down at her with his hands fisted on his hips. His fake scowl breaks into a fluttery smile when dove with her grubby pudgy hands pushed the bicycle around, her boot clad feet stomping against the hardwood floor, “Like this daddy!” Her chest heaved from getting tired of pushing it around in circles.

“Y'gonna put y’old man to labour?” When she sees her dad’s strictness resolving into contemplating the idea she squeals out giggles making Harry flinch and cover his ears, He’s sure he’ll end up deaf in his fifties.

Harry feels his chest warm and gooey with fond when she jumps on her tippy toes and wraps herself around Harry’s calves.

“Kay, teddy bear enough of butterin’ dada up.” Harry grunted through his nose ducking down to scoop her up in his embrace and she instantly loops her arms around his neck, her button rosy nose twitching with happiness as she patted his cheek with a toothy grin.

Harry shook his head at her brains, his eyes closed and lips thinned while he tries to announce it to her in the most dramatic way.

“Why’re you the way you’re dovie? He sighs and her response doesn’t baffles him any, “’Cos you.” She whispers into his ear as if it’s the most secretive thing in the world getting his cheek and earlobe wet with her drool.

“Yeah, cos' ‘m your inventor. My bad.”

.

That’s how they ended up here in the living room since Harry’s still hesitant and scared to let her ride the bicycle outside.

She makes sweet and loud kissy noises dangling her feet in a rhythm messing the already bombed up curls of Harry while he puts protection pads around her knees, he leaned more onto his shins adjusting the strap of her helmet and pinched her chin to make her look at him.

“Hello baby –..,” He opened his mouth to give her instructions when she cut him off with a cute whiny huff and the fold of her arms round her small body, “Daddy ‘m no baby.” Harry rolls his eyes towards the ceiling and bats his lashes.

“F'me you’re.” He tuts with a coo and took her wrist gently to help her slide down the sofa before she could possibly terrorise him more, sometimes Harry has this aching urge to laugh at her statements but it’s not right to his lil bean so he does it when he’s alone to not to hurt her feelings.

She refused any kind of guidance from him with just a single gesture of her palm (he doesn't know how she manages to behave like a 30 at her 3) and he ended up helping her wiggle her bum up the seat anyhow, “Hmm. Y'already know the deal dovlin'.” He knocks on her pink helmet which has tiny cows on it.

She bobbed her head and puckered her lips, Harry being her best telepathic communicator gets the sign and forwards his cheek for her to kiss it.

“Love y'daddy.” Her affection for her dad muffling against his stubble and in droopy voice he mimics her with bright teasing eyes, “wuveee you daddy.”

“Back to work!” Harry commanded moving towards the end of cycle and squeezed her neck tenderly before pushing her around and giggles happily when she squealed out in utter thrill.

“Weeeeeeoiiii!!” Harry joins her putting aside the fact he was very against it moments ago, but the little fun does no harm, right? He did think so.

It has always happened to him in this particular order whenever the things gets into their happy track a downfall is always written for them, just like the time when dove got sick and wouldn’t get any better taking her to hospital got crucial only for them to come back to their family being there for them her grandma and auntie Gems were their to get her recover but she got sick again.

“Alone!” She grumbles trying to move Harry’s hands away but he grips it tighter, “’M big!” She complains feet reaching for the paddles that took a swing.

“Hands on handles!” Not in a mood for her to throw a tantrum after such exhilarating moment Harry dismissed her off with a bit of frown, “Hands on handles! Hands —--,” He shouts anxiously heartbeat racing painfully against his ribs and he feels time slowing down as he watches dove losing her balance – but – puffs out in relief when she thumps against the sofa.

“Shit!” He cries out when the cycle tumbles along dove and falls on her, the poor baby didn’t even got time to process what's happening before the metal basket hits her bottom lip and her elbow hard.

Harry’s fear reeling infront of him, deafening him for a moment.

Immediately, He throws it away from over her half assed about where it lands and bunched her in his arms protectively. Cradling his sweet baby’s face in his palm and his eyes watered up at the bleeding lip and more abrasions on her elbow.

He sucks in a whimper when she tries even not to sniffle being a brave girl for her dad and goes to wipe his tears with her trembling lil hands, “It’s otay daddy.” Harry hiccups into her wrist smacking kisses upon kisses into her palm.

“’M sorry me lil dovlin'.” He sulked wiping his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie and kissed her forehead.

It physically pains him to see his Dovie hurt, it makes him sad till long hours.

Call him sensitive but with Dove he’ll never able to hold his tears back, she pulls onto his heart strings the most agonisingly, she comes before anyone else and her safety too.

“No cry.” She pushed him away and pouted leaning to peck his lips and Harry giggles when she wipes the subtle blood stain she got on his mouth with a sheepish smile, “Lets fix your boo boos honey pot.” Harry gave her a weepy smile and pet her head taking them to his room.

He’s really surprised and well very proud that she was so brave for him, in times like these Harry realises if nobody got him his daughter’s gonna be there for him always.

“’M really reallyyyy proud of you sweet pea.” After putting Dove's favourite rapunzel bandages on her gashes Harry showers her in kisses that are loud and exaggerated but full of pride and love for her, making sure to do ‘mwah!’ at each one.

.

Harry made her chicken nuggies and let her drink orange juice (even though it gives her an achy throat) she’s such a good little briber.

She’s all snuggled in his bed, her face hidden in his chest out of shyness as Anne asks about her accident with a sad pouty smile.

“You gotta be careful next time okay sweetie?” Anne told her. Harry groans when her head perked up with gleam in her eyes, “There’s no next time!” He quips making his point clear.

“Gran’ma you wan’ see?” She blubbers excitedly crawling out from under the covers but carefully Harry catches her ankle and tugs her back towards him which causes the phone to fall from her hands onto the floor.

The clumsy cutie.

“Oh Grandma, you otay????” Her curly head pops from over the mattress and the room fills with laughter at her innocence and dumbness, she's just three, you prick.

“My silly little bear.” Harry’s laugh fades into giggles while he settles her bum on his chest and cuddles her tightly into his neck despite of her whiny protests and squiggles to let her free.

[bibibievansbuckley]

To Know

The first time Natasha has the thought, she’s seven years old.

The dress is stuffy; the collar feels like a weight around her neck and Mama scowls when Natasha reaches up to tug at it. “For God’s sake, bambina,” she sighs. “Can you give it a rest? You can take it off in a few hours. You know what your father will say if he catches you playing with it again.”

At seven years old, Natasha already knows many things. She can create circuit boards, mentally solve equations that send adults running for their calculators. Yes, she knows many things, but the first thing she ever learned? Howard Stark isn’t a good father. As far as she’s concerned, Jarvis is her father. Natasha knows better than to say all of that. Instead she allows her gaze to wander around the room, taking in the sights of all the other girls in dresses and the boys in their suits.

“I wish I could be a boy,” Natasha tells Mama. “They get to wear suits and I have to wear this dumb dress.”

Mama laughs, and Natasha’s heart soars, though she’s not quite sure why her mother is laughing. She doesn’t laugh much, but it’s one of Natasha’s favorite sounds. “Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Mama says, readjusting her hair bow. “You’re such a pretty little lady.”

Pretty little lady. The words leave Natasha feeling nauseous, and for the first time in a long time, she can’t figure out why.

**

At eight and a half years old, Natasha cuts her own hair. It’s short, a mop on her head, and when Mama shrieks that she looks like a boy and what have you done to your beautiful hair? Natasha grins in satisfaction. Jarvis fixes it and gives her a soft smile. Jarvis doesn’t care that Natasha prefers jeans and t-shirts over dresses, doesn’t care that she cut off her long, curly hair. He loves her just as she is.

When he takes her to the full length mirror to take a look, Natasha’s heart flutters happily and she can hardly contain the rush of excitement. Yeah, she thinks. This is right.

**

Natasha gets detention for refusing to wear a skirt when she’s eleven years old. Pants are more comfortable, she insists. The boys get to wear them!

Dad shouts at her over the phone, hisses that she’ll never be a boy. Natasha aches for the ground to swallow her up, drag her down to the endless void where she doesn’t have to be anything. The words rise in her throat, I’m not a girl, I’m not a girl! But they die as quickly as they rise. At eleven years old, Natasha knows many things. She’s in high school at eleven years old, nearly on her way to college coursework. Natasha doesn’t know how she knows this, but it’s the most important fact that resides in her brain.

Natasha Stark is not a girl.

**

Her body is wrong. When her voice should begin to deepen it remains high pitched, a soprano note that Jarvis and Ana gush over and that she wishes desperately did not exist. Her body begins to grow and change in ways that Ana had told her it would, but Natasha had just snorted and not paid attention to any of it. Her body begins to curve and her chest begins to grow and she bleeds. Natasha spends more time locked in her bedroom, absorbed in her robots so that no one can look at her and her horrible body. Her dainty, feminine, wrong body.

Jarvis and Ana whisper about her. They’re worried. Whenever they ask her about it, Natasha comes up with an excuse. I miss Mama and wish she would come home. Dad was being a jerk again.

Rich families are cutthroat. If Natasha doesn’t conform, behave exactly how they all want her to, she’ll be an outcast. She’ll be sent away to one of those horrible camps a girl at school was talking about and Dad would make Jarvis and Ana stop talking to her.

Keeping Jarvis and Ana was almost worth all of the wrongness.

Almost.

**

That same year, Natasha comes across the word transgender in a book she’s reading. It’s not often that she has to look something up. On a Thursday afternoon, after days of contemplation, she makes the trek down to her school’s library. The other students giggle when they spot her, Natasha the freak, and she sneers at them before turning to the card catalog. It takes what feels like hours to find what she’s looking for. LGBT 306.76. She follows the numbers, dives deep into the nonfiction section and frowns. It’s a small section, but she’ll make do. There she spots a book, She's not there : a life in two genders. Natasha pulls it off the shelf, reads about this person who everyone assumes to be a girl but really is a boy. There he defines the word Natasha saw, the word transgender: a person whose sense of personal identity and gender does not correspond with their birth sex.

It comes in waves, the realizations and relief and all of it. Everyone around her thinks that Natasha’s a girl, but something inside of her screams wrong! That’s wrong! She’s never had a word for it. And there are more people just like her? Natasha takes the book to a table and reads feverishly, taking notes.

She’ll never be able to do anything about it, but the more she reads, the more Natasha’s convinced of it. She’s transgender. Not wrong or horrible or broken.

Transgender. Natasha has more research to do.

**

She’s thirteen and alone in her room, staring at herself in the mirror. Mama says that she’s turning into a beautiful young woman, albeit not as proper as she would like. The last bit is always said with a tiny smile, so Natasha knows that Mama is joking. Mostly. And dear old Dad? Well, that bastard isn’t even around, so what does he know?

The bruises on her ribs scream in agony, but Natasha swallows down a hiss of pain. Howard isn’t here, but she refuses to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he could break her someday. She may be broken, but at least she has Jarvis and Ana.

Jarvis and Ana, who teach her how to cook. Jarvis and Ana who don’t hit or shout when she burns banana bread and nearly starts a fire, who laugh with her and choose her.

Ana bought her these clothes, these jeans and a black t-shirt that’s just a bit too big on her petite frame and brand new Chuck Taylors. Alone in her bedroom, Natasha pulls her hair back grinning at the sight in front of her. She doesn’t see Natasha, or a pretty little lady or a proper young woman. The image in front of her is young, and a bit too earnest, and dammit, Natasha, why are you crying?

The image in front of her is a boy. He looks about two years younger than her, but she can work with it. Weak, fragile Natasha is gone. In her place stands a boy, an exuberant, funny, genius of a boy. The boy and Natasha reach out; their fingers touch, and Natasha feels more at home than she has since she was eight and a half, her waist-length hair clumps on the floor.

Natasha knows what her name should have been. Mama told her years and years ago, and it felt like it was hers. Anthony. Anthony Edward Stark. “Anthony.” Natasha whispers the name, crossing that line at last. After this there’s no going back. No more Natasha and dresses and bows and heels and skirts. There will only be Anthony and his jeans and t-shirts and sneakers, Anthony and his deep voice and his rightness.

Anthony moves his fingers away from the mirror, lets go of his long hair and the illusion shatters. In front of him stands a girl, a weak, broken girl in boy’s clothing. Who is he thinking? He can’t be Anthony. His mother would never speak to him again; Howard would toss him out on the streets. He’d be all alone. He wouldn’t even have Jarvis and Ana.

He’ll call himself Anthony, he decides. Or maybe even Tony. Anthony’s too posh, too formal, everything Howard loves and all things he hates. Yes, Tony. Tony sounds good, sounds right. He’ll answer to Natasha and wear the frilly dresses and play the part of a nice young woman. The thought sends waves of nausea so fierce that his knees buckle, but Tony can do it. He’s going off to MIT next year. Just one more year and he can be free.

**

Tony doesn’t last a year. Before his fourteenth birthday he’s in jeans and t-shirts, long hair pulled into a ponytail or braid. Howard hates it, tells him he looks like a rat and a slob, but what does he know? Mama’s away on longer and longer trips, which means longer stretches where he doesn’t have to wear those horrible dresses. Everyone still calls him Natasha, and he bites back a snarl and an My fucking name is Tony every time, but he manages. The masculine clothes don’t ease all of it, but they help.

**

MIT is a godsend. For the first time in his life, Tony is free to create his robots, live out from under Howard’s thumb, and finally be himself. The media hounds him, but for the first time in his life Tony doesn’t care. He cuts his hair again and rumors about him being a butch lesbian circulate and he just laughs. If only they knew.

There is just one thing wrong, other than himself. He’s younger than everyone else, smarter and he doesn’t know when to shut up. It’s nothing that Tony isn’t used to. He survived boarding school, and he’ll survive this too.

Then he meets Rhodey.

**

At first, they’re Jim and Natasha. Jim is older than Tony by two years, but they’re in the same year. They share the same general education class, Sociology 101, and they get paired together for a project. They both have single dorms, but two months later, Tony has practically moved into his room.

Jim is now Rhodey, but Tony is still Natasha. He yearns to tell him, stops and starts, the words dying in his throat. In a short amount of time, Tony’s become attached and anyone to whom he attaches himself winds up leaving. Tony’s too loud, too smart, he stays up too late and hyperfocuses on his robots. Rhodey doesn’t care about all of that, but Rhodey will definitely care if Tony tells him I’m not a girl, don’t call me Natasha, please call me Tony. Tony can practically see Rhodey recoil in disgust, shove him away and kick him out of his dorm.

Tony can’t, won’t, risk that.

**

Howard pays for an off campus apartment next year. Tony and Rhodey live in their own apartment, almost in their own little world. Howard doesn’t know that Rhodey’s living with him. Tony had mentioned it, but Howard had just grunted, not even paying attention.

It’s better that way.

**

Tony only binds his chest when Rhodey isn’t home. He knows he’s not supposed to wrap with ace bandages, but he has nothing else and he’s desperate. What he doesn’t count on his Rhodey coming home early, seeing Tony in the living room with nothing but his jeans and an ace bandage binding his breasts.

For a long moment, they just stare at each other, neither speaking. Then Rhodey opens his mouth and Tony bolts, locking his bedroom door behind him.

Goddammit.

**

Tony waits anxiously for a few days, almost begging Rhodey to say something and get the conversation over with, but he never does. Rhodey is good like that. Everyone else thinks Tony is weird, but Rhodey loves him for who he is, not in spite of it as so many people think. That much Tony knows to be true. But if Rhodey knew this about him, then Rhodey wouldn’t love him anymore.

Rhodey is everything. He’s friendship and love, late nights and delirious mornings, comfort and safety, and Tony aches desperately to hold onto him. They sit together in the living room, Rhodey doing homework and Tony fiddling with DUM-E’s arm. Rhodey is calm, but Tony is so tense that he can hardly stand it, and before he knows it the words, “Why won’t you call me a freak?” slip from his mouth. Rhodey looks up at him in surprise and Tony continues. “You walked in on me and you haven’t said a word! Go on! Call me disgusting! Call me a freak! Just get it over with. Dammit, Jim, why can’t you just get it over with and stop stringing me along?”

Rhodey sighs and shoves his textbook away. “I haven’t said anything because I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Bullshit,” Tony hisses. “I’m a fucking freak and you know it! Everyone else already thinks it, so go on, have at it. Tell me something I don’t fucking know.”

Rhodey raises an eyebrow. “Are you done?” Tony’s face flushes with rage, but before he can retort, Rhodey’s up and crossing the room, standing right in front of him. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it was a big deal. Nat, you stay up for three days at a time. You leave circuit boards and wires all over and forget to do your laundry. You’re loud and funny and one of the kindest people I know. This? The, what is it called, binding? It’s not even the weirdest or worst thing I’ve caught you doing.”

Tony deflates and stares at his friend for a moment. It’s not often that he’s speechless, and judging by Rhodey’s smirk, he must be thinking the same thing. “I guess you’re right,” he says slowly. “You really don’t think it’s weird?”

“Cross my heart.”

Rhodey doesn’t think he’s weird. Rhodey doesn’t want to toss him away, discard and abandon him like the trash so many other people believe he is. Tony doesn’t deserve Rhodey, doesn’t deserve his kindness, love, or friendship. But with Rhodey, he feels the safest. If Rhodey doesn’t think he’s weird for binding, maybe he won’t care about the other stuff? Tony’s heart hammers in his chest, his palms sweat and he sits on the floor. Rhodey sits across from him, reaches out and squeezes his hand.

“Rhodey, I have to tell you something.”

Rhodey waits patiently while Tony collects himself. Tony’s never said the words out loud before. Saying them feels like the end of a chapter, one more piece of Natasha gone. The idea of saying goodbye to Natasha is exciting, exhilarating, freeing. Tony takes a deep breath and looks into Rhodey’s eyes.

“I’m transgender.”

** Rhodey has questions, of course, he does, but he holds onto Tony tightly as he explains everything. How he never felt like a girl, how he doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows that he’s a boy. He’s a boy and he wants to die every time someone calls him Natasha, how he wants to burn every dress and makeup palette he owns, how he feels like himself in masculine jeans and t-shirts and suits.

And then Rhodey does something that shocks him. It’s a question. A simple one, really.

“What’s your name?”

And for the first time he gets to respond, “My name is Tony.” Everything falls into place, and Tony sighs, leaning into his friend. Rhodey pulls him all the closer and Tony affirms, “My name is Tony.”

“Okay, Tony,” Rhodey says with a wide grin. “It’s nice to meet you.”

**

A few days later, Tony unlocks the door to the apartment and kicks off his shoes. Midterms suck, and he thinks he might actually eat dinner and go to bed early tonight. He stumbles into the kitchen, eyebrows raising curiously at the package on the table. There’s a note on top of the brown wrapping.

Tones,

Sorry if this is weird, but I just wanted to do something for you. I did research and everything says not to bind with ace bandages, so I got this for you. Let me know if it doesn’t fit.

And I know I didn’t say this before, and I should have, but thanks for trusting me.

--Rhodey

Tony opens the package and gasps when he sees what’s inside. He’s heard of these, but with Howard snooping through his credit card statements, it’s never been safe enough to buy one. The binder is lighter than he expected, but it feels like he’s touching gold. Tony rushes to his bedroom and puts it on, relieved when it actually fits. Then again, Rhodey knows everything about him. This is no exception. He puts his t-shirt back on, messes with his hair and looks at himself in the mirror. For the first time, he doesn’t see a girl pretending to be a boy. He sees himself, Tony Stark, and tears well dangerously in his eyes as he reaches up to touch his reflection. He’s still not exactly where he wants to be, he won’t be until he turns eighteen and can transition without Howard’s input, but the binder helps ease an ache inside of him, the ache that screams you’re wrong!

Tony doesn’t feel wrong, not with the binder, not with Rhodey calling him Tony and using masculine pronouns. No, for the first time in his entire life, Tony feels just right.

[rose7420]

Things Get Better

When Y/n gets hurt her only hope is with the god of mischief... requested by @lokiismyhubby

(Y/S/C)- Your skin color

Warnings: Some description about a broken bone

Y/n cradled her arm closely to her chest. While sneaking around, she had lost her balance on the third shelf of Loki’s bookcase. The little literature fanatic had become too enamored by the dozens of books upon the shelves. Now, while the shelf may have been knee height for his imposing frame the drop certainly wasn’t a short one for a person of Y/n’s stature. Her foot slipped off the side as she backed up just a little too far attempting to read the spine of an eye-catching book and consequently she fell towards the hard ground holding her arms out to break her fall. Her outstretched limbs prevented her face from slamming hard into the wood but took a lot of damage. Her arm was at a very unnatural angle, tender and warm to the touch. There was no way she’d be able to fix this on her own.

She looked over to Loki’s desk where he was slouched over, staring intently at papers before him with a scowl. His head was propped up by his hand, arm resting on the table. She took a deep breath and tip-toed her way towards him. A part of her wanted him to notice her steps and the other part wanted to dash in the opposite direction.

It didn’t take a genius to guess which instinct was stronger at the time for the borrower.

She had watched Loki for a while now. The man was intelligent, cunning, and mischievous. But she still trusted him for some unknown reason. Perhaps because of the way his green eyes never missed anything, or how she felt he knew what people were thinking with a glance. No matter the fact that she was pretty sure this man was a literal wizard.

No literally, she’d watched him make books and animals appear out of thin air. Or how he’d glamour himself as a completely different person on some occasions.

Now that was creepy… but cool.

She approached his black boot that was anxiously tapping away, sending tremors through her body. Her eyes followed the extent of his form. Even sitting his frame was unfathomably large, towering over her without effort. A shiver ran through her body as she thought of all the ways he could effortlessly kill her.

Suddenly, his foot shifted and came close to knocking little Y/n off her own feet. She squeaked in alarm, drawing the attention of the giant above.

Loki’s attention was lost from the paperwork in front of him and drawn to the noise he heard below him.

How odd, he thought.

Peering down at his feet, his eyes widened at the sight of a minuscule figure standing beside his boot.

“Oh my.” He whispered.

He slowly stood up out of his chair, towering over the little being. He quickly knelt down to lessen the distance between them. He reached out a curious hand but stopped his movement when the person shouted something he couldn’t make out. As he looked closer he saw that the person was a female, and seemed to be holding their arm as if she was injured.

“Are you hurt?” He asked.

The girl nodded, “Yes sir...I-I was hoping you could help me.” She stated with hesitancy, heart pounding. Could hearts pound out of your chest?

Hopefully not.

Loki’s tough facade softened immediately, knowing that such a tiny soul would ask him for help out of all people.

“Of course dear, let’s move to a different spot.” He lowered his palm before her, flattening his fingers to offer an easier step up.

Oh hell no, she thought; scrambling away from the outstretched hand.

“Hey now… I’m not going to hurt you. You asked for help, right? I’m here to help. I promise no foul play.”

He watched as she approached his hand cautiously and experimentally sunk her own hand into his skin. He held back a smile from the ticklish sensation. He was awed by the fact that this girl was no taller than his thumb, standing at most of two inches tall. She paused for a moment looking back up at Loki as if asking for permission. He nodded trying to lessen the intimidating expression he usually wore into a softer, more trustable one. Her tiny weight upon his palm tickled even more as she scooted closer to the middle of his hand. Seeing that she was settled, he curled his fingers around her but left her a good amount of breathing room.

“What’s your name dear?” He questioned, holding her at chest level.

He watched her mouth move not being able to hear her clearly. Slowly he raised his hand bearing her closer to his face, able to hear and see her clearly.

“I was not able to hear you down there, could you repeat that?” He said, missing how tense his simple movement had made the small girl.

“M-my name’s Y/n.” She stuttered, her hand of her uninjured arm twiddling with her threadbare shirt.

“Well Y/n, let’s get you fixed up, shall we?” He lowered his palm to the desk he was sitting at previously, removing all the papers with one large sweep of his arm.

Y/n was curious as to what the papers were for. She remembered watching him earlier and how agitated he’d looked while staring down at them.

“What are those papers for?” She asked innocently.

Loki looked at her confused as to why she would want to know as he sat down.

“Just paperwork.” He said simply.

Paperwork? What did that mean? Her confusion must’ve shown on her face when Loki spoke again.

“You do know what that is now Little One?”, humor coating his voice.

Rather embarrassed, Y/n’s cheeks flushed but she shook her head.

“Let me see your arm dear,” Loki ordered kindly, changing the subject. Y/n held it out hesitantly, the pain was almost unbearable as she moved the unstable limb. She cried out in pain, prompting Loki to lean in closer and pinch her slight wrist in his large fingers.

He was once again awed by how he couldn't even see the small hand between his fingers. He did however feel the dainty tendons and bones moving under his tender, gentle touch.

“How did you even manage to hurt yourself?” He asked with curiosity and worry.

“I fell off your shelf,” Y/n said meekly, ducking her head. Loki didn’t overlook her shyness, in fact, he wished to comfort her but he had to take care of the primary problem as of right now. He closed his eyes, imagining the bones mending back together and the arm reverting back to its (Y/S/C) tint. He opened his eyes and her arms were back to the original.

Y/n looked down at her arms in amazement. She turned her forearms upright and down. Looking up at Loki, who was already staring down at her she felt a smile stretch across her lips. Without thinking much of it, she jumped up enthusiastically and ran to his nearby hand. She threw her arms around his thumb.

“Thank you, Loki!”

Loki smiled and chuckled at the girl’s heartfelt actions. He curled his fingers in and wrapped her in a hug; the best he could offer at their different sizes.

“So Little One… you like books and you know my name; without me informing you of it… I must say you interest me very much so.”

Y/n immediately let go of his finger, backing away with dread. Before she got too far away she bumped into a wall… of skin? Loki’s hand blocked her from going any further, the huge palm thrice her own height.

“Why are you leaving?” He asked quizzically.

“Well, I invaded your privacy. I didn’t think humans liked that.” Y/n stated as a matter-of-fact her voice shaky.

“First of all… I am not a mortal or human as you say and secondly, it doesn’t bother me if you looked at my things. I’m rather happy to know someone likes literature as much as myself. Why don’t we settle down and find a good book to read?”

Y/n nodded still processing that he wasn’t human. That explained all the magic stuff. She watched as Loki strutted to the bookshelf bending down to look for the perfect book. Once he’d made his selection, he walked back to the desk and scooped Y/n up, holding her in a protective cave of fingers against his chest. He sat down on the plush bed and reclined his back against the headboard letting his legs stretch out. Y/n was astounded by how tall he was. The simple length of his legs surpassed her own house! He let Y/n crawl onto his chest, who found the fabric of his cotton shirt soft and warm. She snuggled in the blanket of his shirt and listened to him read. His voice was soothing as the deepness of it reverberated through her entire being. He let the book rest upon his upper stomach where she could see the page clearly but the words were still printed too big for her to read properly.

A little way into the story, an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation started on her back. She looked over her shoulder to see the tip of a large finger making circles on the itty width of her back. The rumbling beneath her stopped as Loki paused his reading. She turned all the way around, to face Loki. He stopped rubbing her back momentarily.

“Is everything all right?” He asked.

Y/n thought about that simple question. This kind giant had helped her immensely. The kindness in Loki’s heart surpassing even his immense stature. She smiled shyly back at him.

“Everything is all right.” And it truly was.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed like and reblog!

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CLV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: Pls tell me if the tags aren’t working bc I can’t tell if they do :c -Danny

Words: 3,617

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Certain Things’ -by James Arthur

Chapter Seventeen: Dainty Talks.

"Charming," Scrimgeour was looking around the snow-covered scene. "Charming... I've wanted to meet you for a very long time. Did you know that?"

"No," said Harry.

"Oh yes, for a very long time. But Dumbledore has been very protective of you. Natural, of course, natural, after what you've been through... Especially what happened at the Ministry..."

Mel looked ahead, flashes of the awful memories caused her to hold onto the fence tighter.

"I have been hoping for an occasion to talk to you ever since I gained office, but Dumbledore has — most understandably, as I say — prevented this. The rumors that have flown around! Well, of course, we know how these stories get distorted... all these whispers of a prophecy.. of you being 'the Chosen One'... The Dumbledore girl having remarkable power..."

She was getting tired of the small talk. No traces of her 'remarkable power' had been shown this term, maybe she'd lost it.

"...I assume that Dumbledore has discussed these matters with you?"

"Yeah, we've discussed it," replied Harry.

"Have you, have you..." Scrimgeour stared at them while they continued to look around. "And what has Dumbledore told you?"

"Sorry, but that's between us and him."

"Oh, of course, if it's a question of confidences, I wouldn't want you to divulge..." Scrimgeour nodded, keeping a cool head. "No, no... and in any case, does it really matter whether you are 'the Chosen One' or not?"

"I don't really know what you mean, Minister," The boy shrugged.

"Well, of course, to you it will matter enormously, but to the Wizarding community at large... it's all perception, isn't it? It's what people believe that's important."

He seemed tense, he was acting against Dumbledore's wishes and to act against him was a very dangerous thing to do, more so when his niece was right there.

"People believe you are 'the Chosen One,' you see, and that Miss Dumbledore is destined to be... er... some kind of successor to her uncle. They think you quite the heroes — which, of course, you are, chosen or not!"

Mel did a strange throaty groan as a vague reply.

"How many times have you faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named now? Well, anyway, the point is, you are a symbol of hope for many. The idea that there is somebody out there who might be able, who might even be destined, to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named — well, naturally, it gives people a lift. And I can't help but feel that, once you realize this, you might consider it, well, almost a duty, to stand alongside the Ministry, and give everyone a boost."

Mel simply stared at him, Harry kept his gaze fixed on a gnome not too far from where they were standing.

"Funny little chaps, aren't they? But what say you, kids?"

"I don't exactly understand what you want. 'Stand alongside the Ministry'... What does that mean?"

"Oh, well, nothing at all onerous, I assure you — And nothing Dumbledore would frown upon, surely... If you were to be seen popping in and out of the Ministry from time to time, that would give the right impression. And of course, while you were there, you would have ample opportunity to speak to Gawain Robards, my successor as Head of the Auror office. Dolores Umbridge has told me that you cherish an ambition to become an Auror — And Mel, I've heard you're pursuing three careers? Ambitious no doubt! It's in your blood! All you want could be arranged very easily..."

Mel's jaw clenched — So he thought they could be bought? He thought they would agree to work for them? For some reason, the phrase 'it's in your blood' angered her. She was doing her best not to repeat her family's errors— Would she give in to the power the ministry was offering?

"So basically," Harry continued slowly, "you'd like to give the impression that we're working for the Ministry?"

"It would give everyone a lift to think you were more involved. 'The Chosen One,' you know, and the Dumbledore girl, it's all about giving people hope, the feeling that exciting things are happening..."

"But if we keep running in and out of the Ministry, won't that seem as though we approve of what the Ministry's up to?"

"Well," Scrimgeour looked unsure for the first time, "well, yes, that's partly why we'd like —"

"No, I don't think that'll work. You see, we don't like some of the things the Ministry's doing. Locking up Stan Shunpike, for instance."

Cold silence met that sentence.

"I would not expect you to understand. These are dangerous times, and certain measures need to be taken. You are sixteen years old —"

"And yet you came to us," She replied calmly. "Because you know the people trust us, which is an advantage the Ministry's lacking after Fudge's poor management. Unfortunately for you, we realized we can do without you just fine."

"You're making Stan a scapegoat," Harry added, "just like you want to make us mascots."

"I see. You prefer — like your hero, Dumbledore — to disassociate yourself from the Ministry?"

"We don't want to be used," The boy shrugged again.

"Some would say it's your duty to be used by the Ministry!"

"Yeah, and others might say it's your duty to check that people really are Death Eaters before you chuck them in prison," Harry's voice changed abruptly, his careless tone got replaced by his sharp angry one. "You're doing what Barty Crouch did. You never get it right, you people, do you? Either we've got Fudge, pretending everything's lovely while people get murdered right under his nose, or we've got you, chucking the wrong people into jail and trying to pretend you've got 'the Chosen One' working for you!"

"So you're not 'the Chosen One'?"

"I thought you said it didn't matter either way?" Harry laughed dryly. "Not to you anyway."

"I shouldn't have said that. It was tactless —"

"No, it was honest. One of the only honest things you've said. You don't care whether I live or die, but you do care that I help you convince everyone you're winning the war against Voldemort. We haven't forgotten, Minister..."

Harry showed the thin scars at the back of his hand, the dark sentence craved into his skin as a reminder of the pain that both, Mel and Harry had to endure for a whole year.

"I don't remember you rushing to my defense when I was trying to tell everyone Voldemort was back. The Ministry wasn't so keen to be pals last year."

"What is Dumbledore up to?" Scrimgeour blurted out angrily. "Where does he go when he is absent from Hogwarts?"

"No idea," said Harry.

"And you wouldn't tell me if you knew, would you?"

"No," They replied.

"Well, then, I shall have to see whether I can't find out by other means."

"You can try," Harry shrugged. "But you seem cleverer than Fudge, so I'd have thought you'd have learned from his mistakes. He tried interfering at Hogwarts. You might have noticed he's not Minister anymore, but Dumbledore's still headmaster. I'd leave the Dumbledores alone if I were you."

Scrimgeour tried to get to Harry but Mel stood in the way.

"'As long as you're working against Voldemort, we'll remain on the same side'," She recited. "My uncle said that to Fudge one time. I think that's all we're going to say too."

"...Well, it is clear to me that he has done a very good job on you, already sounding like him," His eyes went to Harry. "And you... Dumbledore's man through and through, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry proudly. "Glad we straightened that out."

"One last thing," Mel raised a brow. "My name is Mel Sultens, not 'Dumbledore girl' — might be useful to remember next time you talk to me."

Two hours after Percy and the Minister left, Christmas had lost its appeal. Mel was sulking on the couch, absently playing with Grey while Erick was chatting with the twins, who were playing on the floor with little Regulus. Harry had gone to bed as well as Ron, both looking quite discouraged. Her mother sat down and softly rubbed her back.

"We want to speak to you."

Mel pushed Grey gently off her lap and stood up, following her mother to the kitchen.

"How's Mrs Weasley?"

"Arthur took her upstairs, she's a mess after what happened," Emily shook her head. "I do hope Percy comes around..."

"What's going on?"

Lupin sat next to Emily, both adults exchanged a look before talking.

"Harry told me you used your mother's last name while talking with the Minister," Her uncle started.

"Does it matter? It's my name as much as the other, and I'm tired of being called the 'Dumbledore girl'..."

"That's not it, love. You've been having trouble with your magic—Erick said that you're afraid of something happening?"

Mel felt her blood boil, she really wasn't in the mood for this.

"Kids tease me at school, that's all," She lied. "I want to have my own identity, you know? Dumbledore's legacy is all everyone sees when they look at me. I don't want to be just that."

"If you're tiring yourself out maybe it's better if you quit the advanced lessons—"

"I'm working hard, but it's nothing I can't handle," She said tensely. "I'm having fun—The lessons are challenging, it was bound to happen at some point."

Emily's expression darkened. "You're not being honest."

"Erick told you all this, then?" She responded rudely. "That's what I get from dating a traitor..."

"Mel!"

"He's worried about you," Lupin intervened. "You've been close to having panic attacks more than once this year, don't think we haven't noticed."

"Well, what about you?" She retorted defensively. "What kind of life are you having next to a monster like Greyback, Lupin? What kind does my mother have locked up in a house all the time? The sooner we take down Voldemort, the sooner I'll get to go out and have fun—Yes, I'm under a bit of pressure and maybe my magic is acting up, but I have to keep going—"

"You're sounding like your father," Her mother replied. "If you let Dumbledore's words get to you—"

"Dumbledore is the only one who's helping me!" She replied, raising her voice. "My classmates' parents are getting killed—Harry and I survived by mere luck last June—Sirius..."

Her voice died at the way both adults winced, Mel stood up.

"You wanted me to speak? Fine," She pushed her chair forward with force, Emily swore under her breath at the impact. "You talk about my time in school and my classes as if they were any relevant when we all know I'm heading straight to war—"

"If this is about the prophecy, you should know it's all nonsense—"

"That nonsense almost got Harry killed," Mel glared at her mother. "That nonsense is what's keeping him alive too. I won't let others do the work for me— I'm not Dumbledore and I'm not you!"

She hadn't meant to say the last part. The girl froze, unable to take it back, Lupin stood up.

"You're a kid," He sentenced, his voice was no longer kind. "You're in no place to make this kind of decisions. Your father—"

"My father was a kid—" Her voice got stuck again, she looked down. "I'll be of age in a few months and you won't be able to boss me around. I have to grow up, there's no room for mistakes and you need all the help you can get."

"What about Erick? Have you asked him what he thinks of this?"

"I ask him all the time," Mel lied. "If something were bothering him he would've told me."

"Are you sure?" Lupin scowled.

The girl wanted to reply affirmatively, but Erick had always managed to dodge the subject and she would always try to keep all the heavy stuff aside too. She stormed out of the room only to find Erick standing outside, she must've looked at him rather aggressively, because he stepped back and didn't try to stop her as she made her way to Ginny's room.

Harry sat down next to her on the bench and spoke before she'd realized it was him.

"If you're here to apologize—"

"We know who Greyback is."

Mel stopped talking and looked up.

"What?"

"Greyback."

She closed her book. "What about him?"

"Malfoy mentioned him at Borgin and Burkes, he threatened the man saying he knew him, remember?"

"Oh, right! Greyback's working with Voldemort..."

"And Malfoy is too," Harry said.

"I knew that head of yours had to be useful!" She squeezed his face with both hands, Harry laughed. "What about Snape? Malfoy's an amateur, talking about his plans with his classmates and threatening people without making sure he's alone—surely Dumbledore knows by now, surely he sent Snape?"

"I'll ask," Harry replied. "Why would he hide that from us? It's not like we'd interfere..."

Mel raised a brow sceptically.

"Oh, c'mon, if I knew Dumbledore had a plan I wouldn't butt in—"

"I want to believe you, Glasses, but past experiences tell me otherwise."

"Shut up," He said, but he was grinning. "Who did you think I was, anyway?"

"What?"

"When I sat down you said something about an apology?"

"Ah, that..." She sighed. "I fought with Erick before coming back to school. He reckons I'm spending too much time in my own head. Which is crazy because I'm not—like right now, right now I'm just relaxing."

Harry picked up the book she was reading and raised a brow. "You're reading dark magic theory."

"So?"

"That's not very relaxing."

"What would you know?" She snatched the book away from his grip. "Last time you relaxed we were fourteen..."

He leaned back against the tree and tilted his head to look at her.

"You know," Harry said. "I don't think Erick's wrong..."

"He told my mother and Uncle Lu when I specifically asked him not to," Mel frowned. "As if I were some little girl who needs to be watched! He's a hypocrite anyway, I know he's hiding something but he won't tell me."

"You're spending too much time studying," Harry insisted. "You're doing it for a good reason, but..."

"Thank you!" She exclaimed. "Someone who understands! It is for a good reason, I'm trying to remain on the good side of history..."

"I'm not saying it's okay," He frowned. "Emily has told us about Matthew wasting his school years locked up in the tower, they have reasons to worry about you!"

"It's different."

"How's it different?"

"My boyfriend used to live studying until his dreams died," She turned up her nose. "Maybe he doesn't like the fact that I could be a better Headgirl than him..."

"Well, you could be... since he's a boy..."

"You know what I mean," She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, and you're being ridiculous," He responded. "You're just making up excuses to stay mad."

"Well, he can't shut up about how much he just wants to get up and leave!" Mel stopped, once again regretting what she'd said. "I just... he spends all his time making plans and timing every single one of our movements, waiting for the right time..."

"He likes to think twice before acting," Harry nodded. "And you've never liked waiting."

"Mum said he reminded her of my dad... I don't remember my dad, so I wouldn't know... but when I hear him talk about his aspirations it feels like he's trying to hold on to a life that isn't real anymore, not as long as Voldemort still exists. I don't want him to wait in vain, he deserves to have a better ending than the one my father got."

They sat there in comfortable silence, just appreciating the snowy view.

"...Is it okay if I ask you to act like this conversation never happened?"

"What conversation?" Harry took off his glasses and cleaned them. "I thought we were enjoying the freezing morning? How can you relax out here in the middle of winter, anyway?"

Mel laughed, leaving her book on the bench and snatching his glasses. "The cold helps me think."

"No it doesn't—Give those back!"

"I just want to try them on..."

"You've done it before, they haven't changed..."

"You have the same glasses since we were nine?" Mel frowned.

"Give them back, Mel!"

"I—WOW!" She squinted. "You're blind..."

Harry tackled her and Mel yelped loudly, squirming off his grasp and running away.

"If Dumbledore's entire legacy is meant to fall on your shoulders then he's ruined!" Harry shouted.

"I'll take that as a compliment—DON'T RUN YOU'RE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF!" Mel laughed, running away.

She felt eight years old again, with Harry chasing after her nothing could hurt them. They would go back to her house and her mother would be there waiting with a cup of hot chocolate...

Mel tripped and fell face-first on the snow, the glasses slid down her nose and Harry crashed against her with a loud grunt, both teenagers laughed until they ran out of air, not even the pain that was throbbing on her knee was enough to ruin the moment. Mel sat up and brushed the snow out of her hair, Harry did the same.

"Can you please give them back?" He chuckled. "It's a wonder how I didn't break my neck..."

"It's your bloody luck," She placed the glasses on his open palm.

Harry cleaned them again and put them on, it was funny how she would forget Harry wore glasses. She'd grown up with him, things like that were easy to overlook. Even his scar had been something interesting to ask about when she was seven, but as the years passed she would notice it less and less.

That, until the prophecy came around.

"What's wrong?"

"Hmm?"

"You're staring."

"Oh!" She blinked. "No, sorry. I was just thinking—I guess my eyes kind of lingered on your face while I dozed off."

"What were you thinking?"

"Erick's right," She sighed, brushing the snow off her shoulders. "I had missed this... us."

"Me too," He ruffled his hair to try and get rid of the remaining snow.

"Let me," Mel took off one of her gloves and started to gently brush his hair. "There..."

"...Thanks," The scarf around his neck changed colours and she realized it was the one she'd given him: The small lions adorning it had turned scarlet.

Someone called her name. Erick was approaching quickly, when he noticed they were sitting in the middle of the snow, he stopped.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes," Harry smiled. "Mel's trying to kill me."

She snorted, throwing a bit of snow at his chest.

"We were just talking," When Erick looked more confused at this, she added. "We were talking, then I stole his glasses and I fell."

"Ah," The corners of his mouth lifted a bit. "Makes sense."

"Had it coming, the nasty thief," Harry got up and helped her stand. "Well... see you."

Mel almost felt sad to watch him go without her.

Almost.

When Harry was out of sight, the couple spoke one after the other.

"We need to talk—"

"—I'm sorry—"

They stopped, then the boy tilted his head.

"You're sorry?"

"I was unkind," She walked back to the bench and he followed her. "You have to understand... I do this so we can all be safe in the future. I want to make sure I won't mess up things."

"You don't have to figure everything out at once," He replied. "I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life when I was sixteen... I think I'm doing a pretty good job anyway, right?"

"Looks like it," Mel smiled, her eyes drifted back to where Harry and she had been a moment ago. "Listen, I know you worry because you know how it feels when you pour all your efforts into something only to end up disappointed, but can't you have faith in me?"

"I do have faith, that's how I know you can take a break from time to time," He seized her hand. "The future is hard to control... I'm asking you to be patient with yourself, give you room to breathe..."

"You... you're not asking me to give up, are you?"

"Of course not!" He frowned. "How about..." He kissed her knuckles. "We make a deal?"

"Okay?"

"All I ask is to have you a whole day to myself."

Mel pondered. "Sundays?"

"Sundays are perfect."

"Okay," She smiled. "You'll let me study and do what I have to do for the rest of the week, then?"

"Yes."

She moved to peck his cheek, but he turned his head and kissed her on the lips instead. "Hey! I thought you hated to kiss in public?"

"There's no public here," He grinned.

She moved away again, frowning a little after remembering they still had an unfinished topic to attend.

"Are you okay?"

Erick stared at her in confusion. "Why the sudden worry?"

"It's not sudden!" She cupped one side of his face. "I know you would tell me if you were having problems, but I just wanted to make sure..."

Erick chuckled. "I'm having a busy year, that's all."

She felt a slight stung of annoyance at his blatant lie, but she was tired of arguing, all she wanted was to enjoy her time with her boyfriend.

Mel hummed, lovingly fixing his dark-blue jumper. "But you would tell me if you needed help, right?"

He leaned forward and kissed her firmly. It felt wonderful, but at the same time, it gave her the impression that he was trying to distract her.

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[ficsnroses]

Different - Keanu Reeves x Reader

[not my gif]

summary : you attempt to explain social media to your oblivious boyfriend, Keanu, during a cute impromptu evening cuddle session.

warnings : loads of fluff! age difference [not specified], x f! reader.

words : 1.9k. 

notes : slowly working through my requests. this was requested by a lovely anon. lemme know whatcha think! as always, feedback is so so welcome.

“Hey, babe, you wanna go on a motorcycle ride?” A pondering Keanu wonders, worn out arch hat held in thick fingers. “There’s supposed to be a killer sunset soon.” Long hair outgrown freshly, his shining threads of raven hair had begun to host sporadic specks of silver; managing an appearance all the more handsome.

“Yeah, sure.” You return, eyes focused to the black mirror screen of your phone; inattentive to say the least. Eyes absorbed to the blue screen below, your breathes move slow, deliberate; relaxed. Normally, you weren’t one to centre immense attention to social media, or the raging world at your finger tips. Nonetheless; your feed just happened to be far too fulfilled today, far too many intriguing eye catchers spattered upon your personalized canvas.

“Where did uh-…” You start, eyes still motionless, caged to your device. “Where did you uh…wanna,” Paused, brows thread slight, absorbed. Eyes scrunching with your head shaken slightly, your mind struggles to produce the proper word, momentarily consumed by the images in front of you. “Go.” You blink, snapping; slight emphasis on the word when it finally finds your tongue. “Where did you want to go, baby?” Sparked interest, your tone holds curiosity; attentiveness. All hues you’d hoped Keanu understood you did have in the moment; just momentarily distracted. “You said something about motorcycle…?”

“Yeah, a ride…” Keanu begins again, observing your occupied form situated on the crème couch of his home. Keanu and you were still quite fresh, still adjusting to life together. Merely a firm 4 months into your relationship, you’d figured out one thing quite swift.

You’d keep each other around as long the universe would allow, as long as the skies let. Love is blind, you’d heard; and blind it would stay. The age difference was a factor you’d had to talk out, factor into what had grown. Yet one datum would ring true, triumphant above all.

        You love him, and he loves you.

        It was as simple as could be.

“Yenno, a ride down sunset maybe,” Keanu speaks, distracted to his train of thought when your eyes stay intent to your screen. “Up the hill to our favourite spot and…uh…” Stocky hand ran through his hair, Keanu’s voice retracts, baritone gently higher when he asks aloud. “Hey, babe, are you even listening?”

Breathing a deep inhale, your eyes flutter to your tall, deliciously handsome boyfriend. In blue jeans and a simple black shirt, he miens delectable; soft features with his full beard tamed to a beautiful fresh groom; your heart races by the second. “Of course I’m listening.” You giggle, patting the vacant spot beside your frame. “C’mere.” You smile, cellphone discarded to the fluffed cotton of the opposite pillow. Keanu carefully situates himself down adjacent, sighing with his heavy palms rested to his jean clad thighs.

He smells of pine, and a cigarette smoked hours ago. Lingering, the scent of your special shea shampoo radiates off his mane; you’d been leaving considerably more of your belongings at his place recently.

“Motorcycle ride. Sunset.” You chime, arms wrapping delicately snaked to his neck, with a gentle kiss placed to dark, stubble ridden cheek. “I was indeed listening.” Finishing, your head rests softly just under his neck to the broad of his chest, arms finding refuge wrapped around his toned torso. Keanu sighs, his own arms finding your body when they engulf around your waist, one hand rested to his thigh as his other soothes gentle, caring brushes to your hip.

      His heart thuds gentle, a quiet pacify;

      calm as that first pepper of dew on damp earth, and you sigh,

      similar to the way mother earth gratifies to the feel of fresh rain,

               kissing her roots.

“Gosh I feel old seeing you so…” His voice is full, a heavy drum like the confident sky that brings deep puddles, clear velvet gold. “…fixed on that thing.” He laments, and your hand moves to rest to his chest; offering gentle, tender rubs with the soft pad of your thumb.

“Hmm?” You wonder, gazing up to his chocolate eyes in question. He silences a moment longer, before enduring. “What even is so…interesting about that stuff?” He asks, his own palm moving to rest over yours that stills to his chest. “I mean, I’ve heard about that uh, Instant-gram thing?” He offers, hearing your soft giggle below, against his chest. “And Tweeter, I know Tweeter. Some friends use it.” He justifies, stare locked to the ceiling above. “But what even is the big deal, yenno?”

Quiet, and discreet; your chuckles struggle to contain hearing your boyfriend absolutely butcher the names of rather popular platforms. He’s adorably oblivious, and you feel yourself fall a little harder for him by the second. With a tender squeeze to his arm, you correct. “Instagram, honey. And Twitter, not Tweeter.”

Keanu throws his head back against the couch, a thick smile creeps his lips midst his own blunder. You smile a simper, fingers reaching up to scratch his abrasive beard in a tender stroke. “Also, what do you mean, Ke? It’s just…yenno, social media. It’s fun, keeps me entertained.” You explain, head still rest to his chest with your fingers mindlessly grazing, scratching his cheek. “You know, how you read books when you’ve got time to spare?” You attempt a connection.

His hold on you tightens. “I guess I just don’t get it.” Frowned, his fingers lace with yours toying; gently twining your much softer ones. “I’m too old for this stuff.” He chuckles, head thrown back yet again in a deep sigh.

You recognise Keanu often beats himself up for being older than you, habitually worries he won’t be able to give you the fun, exhilaration, adventure he would have been able to offer easier when he had been a decade fresher; less drear to his timeworn bones, scarcer gray to showered his beard.

Consoling, your grip to his delicate palm firms. “Hey. You know what, lemme show.” Reasoned off your pink stained lips, a soft kiss embeds to his shirt arrayed chest, figure stretching to grab the bulk of your phone. Excited, you open your screen, routinely beginning with Instagram. “Alright.” You enthuse, holding the phone out in between your interwoven bodies. “So, this is my feed. It contains all the accounts I follow, so I can easily see what they’re up to.” You explain, soft padded index scrolling through the stream. “In turn, people who want to see what I post follow me as well. They’re called my followers, see?” You enlighten, showing him your wide compilation of names.

“So you mean like…trackers? These are your trackers?” Keanu’s eyes squint as he gapes the screen, russet eyes struggling to focus on one certain aspect of the screen. It was all much, all new.

Intriguing, but very new.

Already, he’d been struggling to keep up. “No, Ke. That’s weird, and creepy.” You correct. “Followers, okay?” You emphasize, shifting to position your legs up on the couch in a cross seated station. “Anyway, so, I scroll through my feed, and see what people post. I can also give them a like, to show them that I’ve seen it and like it.” His head nods slowly in captivation, although those tender, chocolate eyes still break muddled; wonder dense to his brain. “Alright, and this is my explore page. It has customized posts just for me, complied of all the things I like.” You smile, showing him the screen.

“How does it know what you like?” He genuinely asks, hand raked through his generous, roasty strands. Leaning forward, his figure looms beside you, fully engaged.

“It…it just does. It sees the stuff I usually like and just…does a thing.” You half successfully explain, shifting yet again to get more comfortable.

“Well, sweetheart, that doesn’t sound too safe.” Keanu quietly doubts. “Are you sure this is safe, Y/N?”

Giggling, your arms capture around his bicep, tugging his warm, broad body closer. “Yes, grand dad. It’s safe, the entire world uses it.” Teasing, your eyes scrunch to offer him a bantered, playful expression; a smile vast situated on Keanu’s thin lips in return.

“Alright, here hold it and give it a scroll.” You offer, watching the way your phone appears rather small; dainty in his heavy grip. Keanu grasps the casing with one hand, from the base; similar to the way a middle aged women perhaps would, scrolling very slow through the page with his index finger of his spare hand accompanying.

“Why is the world dissolving?” He timidly, low toned asks, in reference to an Avengers meme. Chuckling, you rub his bicep to a beaming smile of his inability to understand internet culture, allowing his eyes to scan further in.

“Oh! Lemme show you tiktok.” Beaming, your fingers retract the phone, opening the app for him to see. Nonetheless, upon arrival to your home screen, a baffled Keanu gasps, deep baritone questioning in query. “Why are they all screaming?” He ponders, baffled with the device in grip,

and with a raging laugh, your hands exit the screen, leaving your phone to discard to the table below, yet again. “Alright, maybe we’ll save the world of tiktok for another day.”

Sighing, Keanu positions back on the couch, opening his toned arms for you to snuggle into, yet again. Against your cheek, his deep tone rumbles, voice certain with statement. “I still don’t get it.” He confesses, a gentle chuckle apparent to his suave tone. “Hey, sweetheart,” He assures, your hand taken in his. “I’m sorry these things aren’t really what I’m into. I know you like them, and care about them. I’m a little lame.” He jokes, gentle exhale to a rasped chortle.

Awed, your frame moves, just enough to tower over him slight, yet still staying situated in his embrace.

“Well,” poking his chest, you smile. “I think I like you better anyway.” Slow; gentle, your legs drape over his thighs, situating your body to straddle in his lap, arms loomed around his chest, you warmly beam between delicate kisses to his visage.

       “You make me laugh more,” a kiss to his cheek,

       “You keep me company,” a kiss to his forehead,

       “You listen to me when I need you,” a softer one to his nose,

“And, you kill spiders for me.” A final, gentler one to his silken lips; the most luxurious delight you’d ever relish in. “You live in the moment. And that’s pretty freaking cool if you ask me.” Heavy palms place to your hips, his love drunk gaze watching you shower him in nothing but pure, unconditional adoration. And he smiles,

he smiles, wholly. Knowing he had the woman he’d been waiting for, for countless lonesome nights and secluded days.

“You want to take me on a motorcycle ride to see the sunset, because you know it’s my favourite. You really are something else.” You quietly express, awestruck. “Something special grows inside you.” Sincerely, your eyes pierce into his soul, illuminating. Quiet, content, gratified, you pull him closer, whispering; “You’re really something else, Ke.”

Finally, to the sound of his appreciative hum, you soothe, flattening a wrinkle on his shirted chest, grinning. “Now. I believe you owe me a sunset, Reeves.”

And to the sound of your silken tone; fresh as summer flowers and soft running water, Keanu grins, his voice a knowing smile, gentle kiss daubed to your forehead.

        “A thousand sunsets fall nothing compared to you, baby.”

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