#lmao received very bad news today

[yay-depression]

me for the past hour: 🎵do not relapse relapsing is a bad thing. do not relapse relapsing is a bad thing. do not relapse relapsing is a bad thing. do not relapse…🎵

[aemondsbabe]

Oathkeeper

summary: aemond comes to winterfell to vie for favor and while cregan has his mind set on backing rhaenyra, you remain unswayed. will your indecision be his saving grace?

pairing: aemond targaryen x stark!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, brat taming, aemond is a little shit, choking, mild degradation, oral sex (f receiving), very lyanna mormont coded reader, aemond whimpers, he's down bad tbh he loves it, angst, allusions to violence but no actual violence, please no one kill me for the end lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.1k

a/n: happy 3k laura!! i'm so happy to be a part of this collab with you and so many of my other fantastically talented writer friends! check out the full milestone celebration here and the masterlist will be here!

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

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

divider creds to @targaryen-dynasty

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Icy air whips around you as you stand atop one of the many high stone battlements of Winterfell, eyes scanning the horizon; the grey earth and sky seem to meld together as one as the sun sets lower and lower. 

“It is our duty to hear them out, sister,” Cregan rumbles beside you, brow furrowed. Ice glimmers in your periphery when you glance over at him, the great sword strapped over your brother’s shoulder contrasts sharply against the deep black of the furs draped over his body, “If they come to us for aid, we must negotiate.”

The air around your lips turns to mist as you scoff, jaw clenched. Today, of all days, you could do without your brother’s condescending tone. 

“Negotiate,” you echo, pulling the thick white fur of your cloak more snugly over your shoulders as the wind seems to pick up, “They come with hardly any notice, with two dragons, and you still believe this is a negotiation?”

“Sister –”

“To call it anything but extortion is a fool’s game, Cregan,” you keep your eyes straight ahead, focused only on the horizon, when he turns to glare at you, nostrils flared. 

“Need I remind you that we are sworn to House Targaryen? That we have been for –”

“Which House Targaryen?” You swiftly counter, cutting your gaze to his with a biting scowl of your own. The wind gusts again yet you pay it no mind, hardly noticing when a shadow passes overhead. 

An all encompassing roar seems to vibrate the very air around you and you whip your head up just in time to see a behemoth of a beast duck down below the clouds, followed swiftly by a smaller, though no less monstrous, one that lets out a resounding cry of its own. 

“Gods be good,” you sigh, already feeling weary of this whole endeavor; you roll your eyes when you look to Cregan, only to find him positively beaming, entranced. You, however, would not be so easily wooed – of that, you were determined. 

Glowering, you turn your face to the sky once more and watch as the creatures circle one another, huffing when it dawns on you that their movements strikingly resemble two riders racing on horseback, goading and taunting one another. 

Shaking your head, your chest heaves with a tired groan, Seven Hells.

“I shall see you in the Great Hall when you have finished fawning,” you sigh once more before turning, leaving your brother to stand like some open-mouthed whore, gawping at the sky.

“My Prince and… my Prince,” Cregan’s voice echoes throughout the great stone hall, accompanied by the steady crackle of the enormous fireplace at its back wall, “We bid you welcome to the North, I trust your journey’s were pleasant ones.” 

The tension in the air is nearly palpable as you stand beside your brother, carefully watching the two dragonriders.The one on the left, Prince Jacaerys, stares straight ahead at Cregan, as if he doesn’t trust himself to look anywhere else. His dark brows are set in a slight scowl and his gloved hand hasn’t once risen from the pommel of his sword since he dismounted his dragon, who you’ve been informed bears the name Vermax.

Your gaze, however, seems continually pulled to the right, determined to see through the cool mask of indifference Prince Aemond wears. Unlike Jacaerys, his singular lilac eye had been busy flicking all about the space, though he stood stock still with a haughty manner about him, hands clasped behind his back. 

“‘Twas a fine journey, yes,” Aemond hums, looking first at Cregan and then to you; his gaze is piercing and you can’t help but wonder if the rumors among the smallfolk are true – that he’d replaced his lost eye with some sort of gemstone, “Vhagar and I were fortunate to not encounter… anything of note.”

Your eyes move quickly to Jacaerys, breaking from Aemond’s stare once you catch the pointed tone of his words, slicing through the air like daggers. His jaw clenches, though only for a second, as you silently pray that this does not end in the two men coming to blows, or worse. 

“My journey was quite pleasant, my Lord Stark, thank you,” a small part of you is impressed that he seems determined not to let his emotions run amuck. He steps forward and pulls a rolled piece of parchment from the inner pocket of the thick, fur-lined cloak he wears, “I come with a message from my mother, the Queen.”

Beside him, Aemond quickly steps forward as well, producing a similar scroll, close enough to you that you’re able to just make out an image of House Targaryen’s three-headed dragon embossed on the golden wax seal. “And I come bearing a message from King Aegon, Second of His Name,” he pauses, looking between you and Cregan, glancing almost imperceptibly toward Prince Jacaerys, “Who currently sits the Iron Throne.”

“Usurper,” Jacaerys mutters under his breath, nose twitching in annoyance.

“Say that again,” Aemond’s voice is low as he whips around to face Jacaerys, all but shoving the scroll he brought into your hands. 

“That is my mother’s throne,” the brunette replies, simmering with a barely contained rage as he hands over Rhaenyra’s terms to Cregan in a similar manner, “Your drunken fool of a brother has no right to it.”

Your heart thrums in your chest as they stare one another down, the hostility between them seems to suck all the air from the room and bathe it in a silence you’ve only ever felt in the crypts. 

“And who would bend the knee for a whore with bastard heirs, nephew?” Aemond’s footfalls echo about the hall as he stalks around the other prince, circling him with a goading smirk, “She could not honor the oaths made to her husband, I shudder to think what would become of her promises to the realm.”

Your eyes widen and a gasp is wrenched from your throat when Jacaerys whirls around with a snarl and the sound of metal-on-metal grates through the air as both men unsheath decorated daggers from their belts; they stumble a few steps back, chests heaving as they each wait for the other to make the first move. 

“Do it,” Aemond taunts, lips twisted into a wicked smile while he and Jacaerys circle one another. Raising a hand, he pulls the black leather eyepatch from his face and tosses it to the floor, clearly relishing the way the other prince falters at the sight of his uncovered face. The deep blue sapphire he reveals gleams in the light from the fire, the sight of it makes your breath hitch, “Finish what your bastard brother started, go on.”

“Cease this!” Cregan shouts, voice firm, though he may as well not have spoken at all for all the good it does – each man only sparing him a glance. 

“I did not come to fight you,” the brunette huffs, scowling at his uncle while keeping a firm grip on the hilt of his dagger.

“No?” Aemond questions sardonically, “You’ve no wish to prove your might, hm? To show the realm how strong you are?”

The remark sounds like any other taunt to you, yet something about it seems to make the fire simmering within Jacaerys blaze closer to the surface – too close. You can see it coming before it happens from the way he tenses, from the miniscule twitch of his hand.

Acting quickly, you lunge for the great longsword strapped to your brother’s back and unsheath it without a second thought. Cregan reacts just as swiftly and clambers for you when you turn on your heel and rush over to where the two men glower at one another. From the corner of your eye, you see Jacaerys lunge forward but you cut off his movement as you swing Ice over your head. 

Metal crashes against metal, filling the hall with a shrill clang, before the great sword slams against the stone floor with a cacophonous din. Everything comes to a sudden halt as the loud noise sends a shock through the hall. 

“Enough!” The word leaves your lips as a snarl while you stare between the two men, nose twitching in annoyance, “How dare you sully our home with such feckless, asinine bickering!” 

Each of the princes sheaths his dagger in silence, though you hold the sword between them still, the tip of it digging into the stone as you keep hold of the pommel. “I’ve no doubt that were those creatures outside to engage like this that they could easily rip Winterfell to pieces, stone by stone, and yet they remain peaceful! Tell me, do you have baser morals than that of a beast?” Your voice is low as you speak, every ounce of patience you had for this idiotic farce wrung from you, “Is this the kind of man House Targaryen sets upon the realm?” 

“Apologies, my lady… my lord,” Jacaerys murmurs, glancing between you and Cregan before quickly staring down at the floor, his jaw set. 

You give him a curt nod before training your eyes on the silver-haired prince and narrowing them expectantly; he holds your gaze for only a second before looking off into the fire with a sigh, “Apologies.” 

Cregan reaches for the sword again and this time you relinquish it without a fight, turning your attention back to the two scrolls abandoned on the longtable – one carrying a gold seal, the other a black one, both bearing the three-headed dragon emblem.

Your brother sighs behind you and you can practically feel him throwing an icy glance at the two men before he joins you at the table, leaning back against the edge of it and crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“We will hear your terms,” he starts, ignoring the way your head whips around to face him, “As is our sworn duty, but there will be no violence in these halls.”

“No.”

“Sister –”

“Not tonight,” you shake your head firmly, glancing over your shoulder at the princes before leaning closer to Cregan, voice low enough that it doesn’t carry in through the hall, “‘Tis late and they are on edge as is. Any negotiations will not go peacefully tonight.”

He turns his head toward you with a soft sigh; you tilt your head just slightly when your eyes meet, communicating silently, with only a look, as you have since the two of you were small. 

“Please,” you think, your gaze flicking between his blue eyes, lips set in a firm line, “Listen to me, just this once.”

Finally, after a long moment, he simply nods and looks back at the two men still standing in the hall, looking pointedly away from each other now. 

“We will hear your terms in the morning,” you announce, turning to face them, your expression set and neutral, “The hour is late and I imagine the two of you are tired from your travels, the –”

“Lady Stark,” Aemond starts, stepping forward, jaw clenched with barely contained annoyance, “W–”

“We will hear your terms in the morning and that is final, my prince,” you repeat, enunciating each word firmly, leaving no room for whatever argument he was intending to make. You glance between the two men again, watching as he gives a polite, stiff nod. 

Sighing tiredly, you give Cregan one last withering look before turning on your heel. “The servants will show you to your quarters,” you call over your shoulder, grabbing the gold sealed scroll from the longtable on your way to the doors without sparing the men another look. 

By the grace of the Gods, you manage to have a few peaceful hours to yourself. The castle remains quiet, save for the usual bustling of various servants and guards. The crackling of the small hearth in your chambers is the only sound that accompanies you while you read over the terms Prince Aemond brought with him, which were fairly generous, all things considered. 

Only one point gave you pause, perhaps King Aegon’s greatest gift – the offer of his brother’s hand. You wrinkle your nose in disgust when you read over that bit, although you had expected it. It’s no secret that you, Winterfell’s greatest prize as you’d been told time and time again since you were old enough to even somewhat comprehend the idea of marriage, are unclaimed. Of course the Greens would exploit that, the Blacks probably did as well.

Of course any other weaker Lady would take the offer. 

Unconsciously, you clench your jaw as you gaze into the fire, watching the flames dance while you think over the terms set before you, etched cleanly on the parchment. You get up from your place at the desk to go see if Cregan has finished reading over Rhaenyra’s terms, quite curious to see what it is she’s offering up. 

“Gods!” You exclaim when a sudden knock at your chamber door cuts through the peaceful silence of the night, startles you enough that you grab at the edge of your desk to keep the bottle of ink there from spilling. Corking it, you let out an annoyed little grumble as you stand.

“Enter!” You call out, smoothing out the silken, fur lined fabric of your evening robes, the soft blue color sparkling like seafoam in the light from the fire. Your brows pinch together in equal parts annoyance and intrigue as a certain white-haired prince saunters through the door, his lips set together in a firm line, as if deep in thought. 

“Prince Aemond,” you huff, bristling when he closes the door behind him, “The hour is quite late, surely whatever you’ve come for can wait until the morning.”

He pauses at that, not moving from his place in the entryway. Confusion wells up within you when he doesn’t meet your gaze, his lilac eye blinking as his lips open just slightly – something clearly weighs quite heavily on his mind. 

“I apologize for the late hour, my Lady,” he murmurs, finally looking up as he takes a few steps into your chambers, arms clasped behind his back, “But I do not think the matter can wait until morning, no. I don’t believe that would be wise.”

“Speak, then,” you nod with a sigh, resting against the arm of a small sofa by the fire. You try your best to hide your annoyance, feeling certain that whatever the Prince had come to you with is not nearly as serious as he seems to believe.

Aemond remains quiet for a few seconds more and you can practically see the wheels turning in his brain, something brewing just below the surface. “I… Did you intend to make a fool of me, Lady Stark?”

“What?”

“I’m aware that my coming, and that of my nephew, were… sudden,” he continues, leaving you utterly perplexed, which only makes you clench your jaw, already exasperated at this entire exchange, “But, had you and Lord Cregan made it clear that you had already come to an agreement, I could’ve left — been on my way to the Stormlands and saved us all the trouble.” 

“Seven Hells, why must he speak in riddles,” you think, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching your brow tiredly. 

“Prince Aemond, perhaps I could be of some help if you spoke your concerns more plainly,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and peering at him once more, “However, I can assure you that Cregan and I have decided nothing. He and I have planned to take the evening to read over yours and Prince Jacaerys’s terms, which we will discuss in the morning.” 

“Mm, then am I to believe that your lord brother plots without your knowledge, my Lady? I find that hard to believe.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aemond paces, smirking as he traipses back and forth before you, acting like he can see clearly through some false plot you’ve set… if only you’d set one at all. 

“I overheard them, Cregan and Jace, in the library — I cannot seem to find sleep and thus was wandering the halls,” he murmurs, quickly explaining his actions before you have time to ask, “Surely you’re aware that your brother intends to support my traitorous sister.” 

His words should come as a shock, that Cregan would do something like this behind your back, and yet you can’t find it within yourself to be truly surprised. Ever since he’d become Warden of the North, he’d become… hardened, even to you. Before, he would’ve never dared do this, would’ve considered your thoughts as carefully as his own, but not anymore. 

“My brother may be decided,” you start, voice clipped, “But I have yet to come to a decision.” 

The prince hums yet again, something he seems to do often much to your great displeasure. He studies you for a moment, lilac eye never wavering from yours, before looking away with a tsk. “And yet, from what I overheard, he seems quite convinced that you have.” 

You scoff at that and push yourself off the arm of the sofa, placing your hands on your hips as you blink at him for a moment while the corners of your lips twitch with the threat of a smirk, “I must confess, my Prince, but I do not know how to proceed. We seem to be at an impasse – I assure you of one thing and yet you cling to your belief in another.”

“So it would seem.”

His calm reply does nothing to lessen your irritation and your chest heaves with a sigh, jaw clenching. “Well, then,” you huff, no longer patient enough to keep the frustration out of your tone, “What would you have me do, hm?”

“Perhaps,” your eyes narrow at the indifference with which he speaks – an act, you’re sure of it, “It would bring me some comfort if we could come to some… agreement of our own. As your brother and my nephew seem so eager to do.”

“As I’ve said, I do not wish to discuss the matter further. ‘Tis late, my Prince, and I see no point in staying up half the night to do something that can be accomplished just as well tomorrow.”

“Mm,” he hums, pacing around you and further into your chambers, to your great annoyance. You turn, watching him as he saunters through the space, acting as if it’s his own, only to come to a stop beside your desk. 

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips just as he feigns surprise at seeing the scroll he’d brought with him unfurled over the wooden surface, “But, you have read the king’s terms, no? Surely discussing them would not take long.”

“Discussing them, no,” you acquiesce, gritting your teeth, “My thoughts of accepting them, on the other hand…”

You can tell he’s only half-listening as you speak, focused on reading over the notes you’d scrawled in the margins of the document – questions of various assurances and the like… aside from one particular line which you’d hastily crossed through. A shiver goes down your spine when his eye trails up from the parchment to once again meet yours, darkened with some new sense of resolve.

“You are aware that the crown has the ability to strip you and Lord Cregan of your titles, yes? Especially if I were to inform my council of your plot against me…”

Your heart quickens at his warning, thumping meanly in your chest while you try to process his words. “All this over a simple marriage offer?” You think as your brows pinch together in a scowl; you do not take kindly to such threats.

“Over my brother’s right to the throne…,” Aemond murmurs and it’s only then you realize you must’ve spoken aloud, not hearing your own words due to the turmoil in your head, the rush of blood in your ears, “Over my family’s safety, yes. I would be willing to dole out harsher reminders as well, if need be.” 

“You must understand, this is not a slight against you, nor your council,” fire rages within you as the winds outside pick up, howling throughout the castle, “I have no want to be bound to anyone –”

“Think of the station you’d have,” he cuts you off, determination seeming to well up within him the same way it does you; each of you is ready for a fight, “The power you could wield in King’s Landing, everything you could do to benefit –”

“You could not drag me from the North kicking and screaming, I have no desire to go –”

“My Lady, you are intelligent, ‘tis plain to see,” he murmurs lowly, indignation finally managing to bleed through his placid exterior while he paces about, circling you just as he did Prince Jacaerys, “Surely you realize that your talents will be wasted here, squandered to the cold, frozen waste –”

“Do you think insulting my home is the way to win me over, my Prince?”

“Mm,” his dismissive hum alights a spark within you and your hands curl to fists at your side, “No, though I suspect flattery would do no good either.”

His words are sharp, spoken with the sole purpose of cutting into you, yet all they draw is an angry huff. You can see his eye narrow in your periphery, can feel him studying you, no doubt trying to find a way to make you crack. 

A part of you hopes he’ll succeed. 

“So, you see, I’ve no other choice than to resort to threats,” he hums, long silken hair swaying over his shoulders as he finally comes to a stop before you, close enough that you’re forced to raise your chin to maintain eye contact. 

“Should you be fool enough to try, you will not succeed in taking the North, my Prince,” you say softly, a quiet calm blanketing your fury just as snow blankets the fields outside, “Even Aegon the Conqueror could not, surely you know that.” 

Something dangerous flashes in his eye at that and your eyes narrow with the knowledge that you’ve crossed some invisible boundary, gone a step too far. 

He stays quiet for a moment, just long enough for the eye of the storm within you to pass, for the maelstrom to be ignited once more. 

“Surely you’ve heard tale of the wrath the Conqueror brought upon Harrenhal, Lady Stark,” his voice is low when he finally speaks, though there is no softness to it; only a harshness, a finality, that would surely make anyone else grovel for forgiveness at his feet, “Reduced to a pile of ash and molten stone… even now, more than a century later, it stands as a ruin – a cursed place…”

Your jaw clenches tightly at his words, eyes narrowing as you stare into his own as if challenging him to say it, to finish his threat.

“It would be quite a shame if that same doom was brought to Winterf–”

Aemond lets out a grunt when his back thuds against the stone wall behind him, gasping and caught off guard by your sudden advance. 

“Have you no shame?” Your words are biting as you snap at him; fury pours off of you in waves, your entire being concentrated down into rows of gnashing teeth, “You come into my home, unbidden. You threaten to spill blood in my hall, you feel entitled to my time and my space and my thoughts and my hand, all unbidden.”

For the first time all evening, the prince seems to have no response, not even a condescending hum. He stands frozen on the spot, held against the wall by your forearm pinned across his chest. The air feels like it evaporates from the room, leaving the two of you in some sort of bubble where the only sound is Aemond’s harsh pants. You see his angular nose twitch and his lips press firmly together as a sneer forms on his pale face. 

There’s a cruel, almost savage, gleam in his eye that should scare you, that maybe actually would, were it not for the soft pink flush spilling across his cheeks and an undercurrent of something resembling shame in his gaze – the expression of a child being scolded by a parent, caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

The strangeness of it brings you to heel for a second, only for the anger within you to flare up once more when he starts to open his mouth, starts to push himself off of the cool stone at his back. 

“Don’t,” you huff, narrowing your eyes and pressing back against his chest. A bitter laugh bubbles up from your throat as you stare at him, surprised once more when he quickly gives in and lets you push him back, “I bet you’re quite used to getting your way, hm? You’re a prince of the realm, of course you are.”

With each passing second, your ire for him seems to be slowly replaced by a growing curiosity — Why isn’t he fighting back? What kind of game is he playing at? 

“Entitled prince,” your heart quickens when his breaths start coming more harshly and his chest heaves against beneath your arm, “You hold no power here.” 

Aemond’s nostrils flare and his lilac eye narrows, just as fiery and intimidating as before. Your lips part when his hands come to rest on your waist, far too delicately for the situation. 

“Might I remind you,” he mutters, a rumble to his voice that hadn’t been there before, “That the crown—“

“The crown, the crown, the crown,” you lean in, nearly on your tiptoes, just a hair’s breadth away from touching your nose to his. Without considering the movement, your free hand wraps itself around his pale neck, not squeezing but merely resting there, pressing against his Adam’s apple — a reminder for him to remain silent, “Why is it that you lean so heavily on something you do not even have, my Prince?” 

You can feel him swallow against the palm of your hand, once again not fighting back. Though, it’s only when you meet his half-lidded eye and see that heady, shameful spark hiding there does the truth finally hit you. 

“Gods, he likes this,” your eyes widen ever so slightly at the realization, such a mighty, fearsome prince and yet he’s all but melting under your touch. The feeling is rather intoxicating and you feel a rush of power flow through you, making the hair at the nape of your neck stand on end. 

“I don’t see a crown on your pretty head,” you continue leaning into the feeling, intending on leveraging his submission to whatever extent you can, “Doesn’t that bother you, Aemond? Hm? Being reduced to the second son when you could’ve been so much more…”

“V-Vhagar could—“

“Vhagar could do nothing,” your fist tightens around the column of his throat as you press yourself more tightly against him, the thin fabric of your evening robe the only thing separating you from the warm black leather of his tunic, “Not if I take my brother’s sword and go slit her great belly myself.” 

He balks at that, brows furrowing as he stares at you — half in fury, half in wonder. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off again, not interested in hearing another half-baked threat. 

“Does it bother you that I don’t find you the least bit intimidating?” You question, narrowing your eyes at him. 

A grin blooms on your lips when he just barely shakes his head, the movement so subtle and so quick that you hardly catch it — though it sends lightning down your spine all the same.

“No? It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Again, he shakes his head, more firmly this time; his throat bobs beneath your grip, “Do you like it? That you can’t scare me?” 

He nods — not good enough. 

“Say it,” you command, tightening your grip on his neck once more. 

“I… I like it…,” he answers after a long moment, his voice hardly a whisper.

“Good boy.” 

He whimpers, the small sound vibrates against your hand. A shock goes through you and before you can fully register what you’re doing, you release his chest and neck and haul him toward your bed — that barely there whine enough to ignite a fire in your belly. 

You can see the confusion written plainly on his face when you sit on the edge of your mattress and gaze up at him expectantly, you try not to focus on the little flip your heart does at the fact that he’d followed you so willingly, like a little puppy. 

“Kneel,” you command, nearly giddy when he actually does, actually sinks to his knees before you. You lean forward and quickly tug off his eyepatch, eager to see the sapphire once more, and again, you’re shocked when he doesn’t put up a fight. 

Tossing the small scrap of leather to the side, you stop for a moment and admire the glimmering gemstone, even admiring the long, thin scar that adorns his otherwise flawless face. 

“You’ve been a thorn in my side all evening,” your fingers card through his hair while you speak, your voice low, hardly louder than the crackle of the logs in the fire, “Starting fights, coming to my chambers in the middle of the night for matters I said I would not be discussing, talking back… and I can think of much better uses for this mouth.”

Aemond’s breath hitches when you cup his jaw and skim a thumb over his bottom lip, grinning when he just barely follows your touch. With your free hand, you tug your robe open at the slit going up your leg, just enough to show him you’re bare beneath it.

“If… if I do this, you’ll back Aegon?” He rasps, staring up at you from his place on the floor as his hands come to rest gingerly on your thighs, “You’ll agree to his terms?”

“Of course…”

“… All of his terms?”

“All of them,” you echo breathily, sighing softly when he leans in and kisses the top of one knee, a smug grin on his lips despite the situation. 

If only he didn’t make this so easy. 

“Enough talking,” you grab at his pale hair and shamelessly pull him to where you need him, smirking at the little gasp that leaves his lips once he’s face to face with your center, “Show me what it is I’ve agreed to.”

For all his faults, Aemond doesn’t make you wait and quickly dives in — licking a solid line up the middle of your folds, groaning as he goes. His hands tighten around your thighs and he eagerly spreads them wider, shifting on the floor until he’s pressed closer to you. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” You gasp, leaning back on an elbow, though you keep a grip on his hair and use it to drag him directly to your aching pearl, arching your back when he hungrily suckles at it. His eagerness makes the fire in your belly burn bright right away and you swallow thickly, battling against the dryness at the back of your throat. 

Aemond growls against you and dutifully licks over your bud, flicks his tongue against it again and again until your head spins. Your thighs tighten around his head but he’s quick to press against them once more and hold you open, fingers digging into your supple flesh. 

“Good boy,” you pant, relishing the way his eye rolls back. Biting at your bottom lip, you yank his hair once more — guiding him to your entrance. He catches on quickly and another almighty gasp is wrenched from your throat when he pushes his tongue inside you, making you shiver. 

“Seven Hells!” Your hips buck against his face of their own accord when his angular nose brushes against your pearl, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine. Your walls clench down around his tongue, pulling twin whines from the both of you. 

Knowing you won’t be able to hang on for much longer, you press his face against your core and rock your hips more earnestly against his face; your eyes nearly go cross when he groans deeply against you, squeezing at your thighs hard enough to surely leave behind bruises. 

“T-That’s it, that’s it,” you chant, chest heaving. It feels as if lava flows through your veins each time he presses his tongue against you, the fire inside you burning brighter by the moment. 

Suddenly, he moves on his own accord and nips softly at your pearl before suckling at it once more. The sudden turn of events causes you to snap and finally slip over the edge, making fireworks explode behind your eyelids. 

“A-Aemond, Gods!” You cry, harshly tugging at his hair, nearly ripping it from its roots as pleasure beats against you in waves. You’re so lost within yourself that you hardly hear him growl against you, low and heady. 

You shove him away after a moment when his touches begin to border on overstimulation and lie panting on the bed, dropping to your back against the warm blankets and staring, half-lidded, at the ceiling. 

You can hear the shuffle of his clothes as he pushes himself up off the floor but you don’t bother sitting up, limp still from your peak. It’s not until he speaks that you finally look up. 

“I take it I’ve fully persuaded you, then?” He hums, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Leaning up on your elbows once more, you look him over — taking in the flush on his cheeks, the way his chest thrums under the dark leather of his tunic, the evidence of his arousal pressing tightly against the ties of his trousers. 

Gods, what a desperate thing — wanting so badly for validation.

“Well, I’ll still need to read over Rhaenyra’s terms…���

“But —“

“But nothing,” you snap, sitting up once more on the edge of the bed, “I must at least operate under the pretense of being fair, no? Cregan will know if I don’t come to collect the papers your nephew brought.” 

Aemond nods stiffly, lips set in a thin line as he looks you over. Your heart speeds up just slightly when his lilac eye pauses at your chest, darkening at the way your robe has loosened, showcasing your cleavage. 

“True,” he acquiesces, brushing a lock of hair from your shoulder, “It would be smartest for us to be careful now…” 

He leans down, intending to kiss your cheek, perhaps even your lips or neck, but you put a hand up to stop him — shaking your head with a small smirk and a raised brow. 

“That’ll be all.” 

His brows furrow at your words, eye searching your face, “I thought —“

“I need to rest,” you cut him off, nodding to the door, “Goodnight, my Prince. I hope sleep finally finds you.” 

“I…” he starts, staring at you for a second, absolutely crestfallen, before simply nodding. “Lady Stark,” he mumbles, finally turning and seeing himself out, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Poor thing,” you think with a sigh as soon as your door shuts behind him, “He has no business here.” 

You’re hit with a wave of deja vu as you take your place next to Cregan, each of you standing before the long table at the head of the Great Hall. Once again, the place is as silent as a crypt, the only sound being the steady crackle of the fireplace. 

You stare straight ahead, focusing intently on the opposite wall while your brother addresses the two princes — exchanging morning pleasantries and worried smiles. Throughout his small speech, you can practically feel Aemond’s gaze on you, like he’s determined to sear a hole straight through you. 

“I have read your terms carefully, both of them,” Cregan states, each of the scrolls laid out on the table behind you, “And I propose that House Stark honor will keep faith with its alliance to Lady Rhaenys, in memory of the oath we once swore to King Viserys.” 

“Very well,” Prince Jacaerys nods, giving your brother a small, polite smile and grateful nod. 

“And what say you, my Lady?” Aemond cuts in, determined to force your hand, for you to make good on your assurances from last night. 

The desperation in his eye almost makes you feel bad.

With a sigh, you finally look up at him for the first time all morning, immediately noting the dark circles beneath his eye. Breaking from his intense, nearly pleading gaze, you look toward Prince Jacaerys with a small smile.

“I’m afraid I must agree with my dear brother,” your voice is cold, emotionless as it rings throughout the stony room, “House Stark will not be breaking its oath today.” 

Aemond lets out a sharp, stuttering breath, as if he’d been punched in the gut and his shoulders sag in defeat. 

And you almost feel bad, only for a moment. 

Almost.

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

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[moni-logues]

Thirteen Rounds

Pairing: Boxer!Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: smut smut smut smut smut! sex ban smut lmao; established relationship

Summary: JK's boxing coach tells him he can't come for four weeks before his title fight. Ah, four weeks isn't that long, right? ... Right?

Word count: 13.2k

Content: oral sex (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex, masturbation (f.), orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, sex toys, uh implied come eating? (It's not mentioned but he comes in her then eats her out sooooo it's happening 😂), cutesy nicknames that honestly even make me cringe these days lmaooo

A/N: as I said in a post earlier today, this hit 6k notes on the old blog and I know crowing about notes is tacky and no one cares (and even I don't care! That's not why I'm here!), but I never really got to celebrate this fic when I posted it and it took the fuck off. So here's to another 6k 🤪🤪🤪

FOUR WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook walks slowly, very slowly, down the corridor to the door of your apartment. He does not want to go through it. He really doesn’t want to have to tell you what he’s about to.

Four weeks no sex.

That’s what Coach said. No sex, no masturbation, orgasms 100% completely verboten. He knows this is not going to go down well with you. From the very start of your relationship, you have never gone that long without sex. Jungkook isn’t sure he’ll be able to make it; he’s not sure if you will be either. A tiny part of him worries what it might do to your relationship – you’re stronger than that, aren’t you? This won’t hurt your relationship, will it? You’ve been together for years now, four weeks without sex can’t change anything… Right? Jungkook knows in his heart of hearts that it’s right but the thought of four weeks without you is so unutterably awful that he also can’t believe it won’t change things.

He flops face-first onto the sofa next to you and squirms immediately as you rake a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Absolutely none of that from now on.

“You ok?” you ask and he can’t answer because the answer is no and he’s not going to be for another four weeks, another 29 days in fact. He mumbles nothing into the sofa.

“Just tired? Training hard today?”

Training wasn’t hard, especially. This conversation we’re about to have is hard, Jungkook thinks. Keeping his face shoved into the sofa cushion, he breaks the news.

“Jungkook,” slight impatience in your voice now. “I cannot understand you when you talk into the sofa; what’s going on?”

He lifts his head slightly but can’t bring himself to look at you.

“Coach says we can’t have sex until the fight.”

“WHAT?”

“We can’t have sex until the fight,” he repeats, quietly, miserably.

He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, still not daring to look at you.

“But that’s four weeks away! Four weeks!”

“I know!”

He takes your hand and kisses it, leaning up on his elbows. He rests his head on your thigh, bumping it gently as if he were hitting it against a brick wall. He mumbles under his breath, as close as he ever got to invective against his Coach (whom he nevertheless trusts and respects deeply). You’re being quieter than he expected you to be and it makes him nervous. He expected outraged protestations, reasoned arguments, begging and pleading. But you’re sitting and thinking.

“Why?” you ask. “What’s it for?”

“He says it’ll improve my focus, power, and aggression if I don’t come between now and then…”

You hum in response and he risks a peek at your face. You’re smirking and something about it makes his stomach drop.

“So… You can’t come, but I can do whatever I want, hm?”

He hadn’t considered that. Of course, that makes sense; you’re not wrong, but Jungkook realises this with absolute horror. Not being able to fuck you for four weeks was going to be bad enough as it is, but four weeks of getting you off without a single second of relief for him? He feels sick.

“Noooo! Baby, please. Please, you have to do this with me.”

It’s not his usual role, but he is not above begging. You shake your head.

“No way; four weeks is a long time and I’m not fighting anyone.”

“I know it’s a long time! That’s why we have to do it together!”

“On the contrary, my sweet, little biscuit, the whole point is that we don’t do it together, isn’t it?”

You lean down and kiss his nose but it is of no comfort. He’s pouting now, both furious and devastated at this turn of events. When you start running your hands through his hair again and his dick twitches, he groans; this will kill him, he thinks. Stone cold dead, this is going to kill him. He holds your hand tight and looks at you, finally, dead in the eye, eyes wide and pleading, his absolute best puppy dog.

“Please,” he begs. “Please.”

“Why don’t we have one last night?” you suggest and Jungkook groans because he knows that tone. “You can start tomorrow. One night won’t make a difference, surely?”

You slide down the sofa until your faces are almost level and Jungkook is about to rest his head where your thigh was, but discovers your breast in its place. He holds still. This is his first test and, while you might have a point, he’s got rules to follow and he can’t break now, not at the very first hurdle. He’s got better self-control than that, hasn’t he?

“Hm?” you continue. “Start tomorrow… Come on, Kookie, please.”

He wants to say yes, of course he does, but if he’s going to last four weeks, he’s going to have to practise saying no.

You slide off the sofa onto your knees on the floor and he eyes you carefully. You’re dangerous and you know it. When you trail your fingers down his spine and kiss the back of his neck, he shivers.

“I want you so badly,” you whisper in his ear and he groans. You slip your hand underneath his T-shirt and he’s sticky with sweat. “I didn’t have you yesterday and now we have to go four weeks? Kookie, I can’t take it… Be good to me, Jungkook, please.”

He loves it when you beg. Hearing his name in your mouth all high and whiny, tremulous with need and desire. If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. Goosebumps follow your hand on his back and he shivers, groaning into the sofa, fists clenched again.

“My love, stop it, please. We can’t.” His voice is weak and he can’t believe how weak he’s feeling; if you persist might longer, he genuinely feels he might snap and he’s ashamed that his self-control is apparently all but non-existent. He must do better.

“But I’m so wet already.”

Fuck. He snaps. He kneels up and looks at you, your innocent, little face, a devil in disguise. If you’re just playing with him, just teasing, you’re going to be in big trouble.

“Get up,” he commands, slapping the sofa. You obey without hesitation and he grabs you by the legs, pulling so you’re falling onto your back. He tells him yourself you were lying, of course you won’t be wet; you’re just teasing him and he’ll tell you off and ask you to take this seriously and it’ll all be fine. Then he yanks down your trousers and your underwear.

“FUCK.”

He brings his hands to his face and rubs.

“Fuck, I thought you were lying just to tease me, but fuck, you really are.”

You are. Looking at you is almost painful; he’s desperate to touch you. You’re right there in front of him, legs spread, and all he has to do is touch you. But he can’t. If he starts, he won’t be able to stop. He shuffles back away from you slightly, hands moving to reach you and then pulling back. He swears again.

When you spread your legs wider and shuffle yourself down closer to him, he has to stand. He has to do something with his hands: clenching at his sides, on his hips, on his head, over his face. He’s pacing, too, unable to look at you once again. It would be all too easy to take his own trousers off, let his dick out of its cloth prison and fuck you into the sofa. He has to bite down on his knuckles to stop himself doing just that.

“Kookie,” you coo. “Aren’t you going to touch me? I need you… No one touches me like you do.”

Jungkook is open-mouthed and he has to turn away. He growls, deep in his throat, and gently places his fists on the kitchen counter, when what he really wants to do is smash straight through it. His whole body is tense, fighting itself in an agony of indecision. He needs you to stop; he’s sure you won’t. Not when you’re having this effect on him. He should’ve seen it coming. He knew you wouldn’t take the news well; for some reason, he didn’t expect you to immediately be so defiant. You were always so pliant and obedient for him. But then, this isn’t really his rule and you and his coach didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye.

He freezes when he hears the unmistakeable squelch of you plunging your fingers in your wet heat. Then you moan. Then you whimper.

“Jungkook, please.”

He can barely control his breathing as he stands, still with his back to you, unable to block the sound of you from his ears. He should be the one drawing those moans from you; he should be the reason your breathing is hitched.

He decides quickly that you have a point. He can’t come but that doesn’t mean he can’t do anything he likes. He crosses the space to the sofa in three large steps and forces your hand away from you. He doesn’t see the expression on your face as you look up; he’s too busy staring at his next meal. He squeezes your thighs hard and lowers his mouth to you.

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe and it goes straight to his dick.

He moans loudly as he licks from your core to your clit, drinking you in. He licks through your folds, not wanting to miss a drop. He swirls his tongue around your clit before sealing his lips and sucking hard; you grab at his hair and he flicks his eyes to you but your head is tipped back, your back arching off the sofa. He pulls your thighs, bringing you even closer, smothering him, burying him but if he can’t breathe, he doesn’t notice. He notices the pitch of your whines tilt; he notices your breath come quicker; he notices your thighs twitching under his hands; he notices you tugging harder and harder at his hair. He watches you as he works, alternately swirling his tongue across your throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking, until you’re screaming, your body writhing, shuddering under the waves of your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he swears repeatedly, almost sure he hears you saying the same, but he can’t move his mouth from your lips; all that fresh arousal dripping from you has his name on it.

You squirm and bring your legs together, your feet pushing against his shoulders and he relents, shifting backwards but still gripping your thighs tight.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you but fuck, I fucking love your cunt.”

His hands move higher, his thumbs spreading your lips, running up and down, the slick noises they make like music to his ears. He whines as he drops his head to your thigh with a heavy sigh. He squeezes his eyes tight shut for a moment, trying not to lose all control even as his cock aches in his pants, desperate for you.

While he’s trying to keep it together, you extricate yourself from his grip and sink onto the floor. While he’s off-guard, you spread his legs and slot yourself between them. It’s only when his dick jumps as you slide your hands up his thighs that he realises what is happening. He leaps up and away from you in one, quick, fluid motion.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, hands tangling in his hair, twisting his T-shirt, gripping the kitchen counter, anything to stop them wandering to the bulge in his trousers. He’s painfully hard now, twitching with almost no provocation; his restraint is hanging by a thread.

“Jungkook,” you call for him, still kneeling on the floor. “Kookie, come here, let me help you.”

He growls and takes a deep breath. If he even looks at you right now, he knows he’ll snap.

“I’m going to shower.”

He has to get out, get away from you, anywhere will do.

“You better not wank in there!” you call after him. “Or I’m going to be really upset!”

He chuckles bitterly; as if he would ever choose his hand over your sweet mouth. He strips quickly and steps into the shower, turning the temperature as low as it’ll go and the power on full blast. He gasps as a strong stream of icy water hits him; he shudders and shivers and forces himself to stand still. He’s panting and his skin turns red under the blast but he can’t move, not until he’s flaccid, not until he’s stopped thinking about your beautiful pussy and your soft, hot mouth and no-! Enough of this. He calls to mind all his least favourite things, conjuring up the worst images he can, disgusting, horrible, anything. He just has to stop thinking about you.

When he’s finally showered and clean and soft, he leaves the bathroom. It’s not late, but you’re already sitting up in bed, naked as you always are, and he groans, trying to avoid looking at you.

“Hey now, that’s not fair,” you tell him, sulking with an exaggerated pout as he takes the towel from his waist and rubs it over his hair.

He almost chokes on his indignation.

“Not fair? Me not being fair? And what do you call that, out there? Is that fair, huh? And this?” He gestures to you, chest on display, arms just slightly squeezing your breasts together, as if you think he won’t be able to tell. “Is this fair?”

Swallowing hard and taking a deep breath, he sits next to you on the bed; he simply will not survive the next four weeks if he can’t get you on-side. He has to stop you reaching out to touch his cheek; he’s only just been able to lose his erection, he’s not sure he can manage another.

“I’m serious, y/n, I cannot do this.”

He’s not sure he can look at you anymore. The thought of spending a whole night next to your naked form, your soft skin pressed against him… He can’t. He can’t even think it without feeling a stir in his groin.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to sleep in the spare room.”

Never in his life has he been more grateful to have one. He’d sleep on the sofa or the floor if he had to, but, if he’s doing all this to improve his fighting, he needs to keep his sleep up, too.

“Jungkook! Don’t leave me!”

When he risks a look at you, you’re wide-eyed and open-mouthed, dismayed. He doesn’t ever want to be the cause of that face; his heart aches. Maybe this would affect your relationship after all. He returns to sit on the edge of the bed and takes your hand. He kisses your palm.

“I can’t- I… I can’t even look at you, right now, without wanting to jump you.” He says quietly, sadly. “I just-“

“I can put some clothes on?”

Your hopeful face squeezes his heart and he wishes that would be enough.

“No, baby, thank you but we both know that isn’t going to help. I know what’s under there.”

“So, we’re not even going to be able to sleep together for the next four weeks?”

“No, we will, I promise. I just… Right now, I just need to get away from you.”

He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, but fails. He misses you already.

“Can I at least kiss you goodnight?”

Jungkook isn’t sure. He’s not sure the one thread of sanity he’s clinging to will last, but he has to give you something.

“Of course, you can,” he answers, with only a little hesitation. “But please… Be nice…”

You take his face in his hands and he shivers. You kiss him once, firmly, and then again, softly, sighing against his mouth. He wants to wrap his arms around you and kiss you again, wants to melt into your mouth and roll your tongue with his. Then he feels temptation in his groin and has to pull away.

“Night night, my little custard cream.”

“Night night, my love.”

He leaves, and shuts himself in the spare room, wondering just how on earth either of you will make it through the next 29 days.

THREE WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook isn’t home so you’re taking the opportunity for a little Me Time (courtesy of your favourite rabbit). It’s been a week since the last time you came (courtesy of Jungkook) and you’re on edge. You feel a little guilty for the way you behaved, but you’ve been good this week in penance, even though you’re already missing him terribly.

At night, when he wraps himself around you, his hard chest against your back, his strong arms holding you tight, you feel a steady pulse in your core. You want desperately to shift, just push your hips back a little, bring his hand to cup your breast, do something to address your need of him. It’s worse than usual because, of course, you always want most what you can’t have. Isn’t that a universal truth? Last night, you even wished he would go and sleep in the spare room again; having him so close to you, knowing that you can’t touch him like you wanted to was beginning to get unbearable.

Hence, Me Time.

Jungkook is out and not due back soon so you have plenty of time to take things slow. Or at least, that’s what you intend. You take a nice, long, hot bath; apply your favourite body lotion: a rich, thick, cocoa butter that makes you feel expensive; you potter around the apartment for a while in your sexiest lingerie – there’s no one to see you, but it makes you feel sexy anyway. You think about Jungkook. You think about his hair, too short for your preference at the moment; you like it a little longer, a little wavier, giving you plenty to grab onto at the nape of his neck just as at the crown; you like it when it flops into his face and he pushes it back; you like when he lets you plait it and style it, just for the two of you, just for fun.

You think about his beautiful, brown eyes: huge and wide, bright and shining, so open and innocent. You think about the way he looks at you sometimes, like you’re his entire world, like he’s looking at the most beautiful, peaceful sight he’s ever seen. You think about the way he looks at you at other times: like you’re prey; like he’s calculating exactly the right way to destroy you; his eyes dark, black, piercing; eyes that silently command and will be obeyed.

You think about his mouth: his soft, pink lips and two straight rows of perfect white teeth; you think about his mouth on yours, the unyielding pressure of his lip ring, the hard bite of his teeth on your bottom lip, his soft, wet tongue rolling against yours; his soft, wet tongue swirling around your nipple; his soft, wet tongue licking through your folds, flicking across your clit, his lips tight around you as he sucks. You think about his long fingers, their reach; his strong hands and how they direct and control you, pinning you down and lifting you up.

You think about his cock, the prettiest you’d ever seen (though you weren’t surprised, given the rest of him); in perfect proportion, neither too long nor too thick, a slight, gentle curve, smooth but for one thick vein running the length of it. It makes your mouth water just to think of it; your pussy throbs, missing it and you settle on the bed. You can feel the crotch of your underwear is already sticky and your heart is already thumping but you’re still telling yourself that you’re going to take this slowly, because you have plenty of time.

You discard your bra, teasing your nipples beneath it, twisting at the barbells that run through each of them, remembering the way Jungkook had reacted the first time he saw them, as if it were Christmas morning and they were a brand-new puppy and a skateboard. You slip a hand down behind the waistline of your knickers and exhale sharply as you spread your juices across your clit. You’re aching now, with desire, with frustration but you take deep breaths to calm yourself down. You let your fingers work slowly, gently, dipping down between your lips to your entrance, exploring your folds, teasing and tapping your clit. It was almost like stepping into a bath: enveloped in warmth as blood rushed to the surface of your skin, cocooned in pleasure as it radiates outwards from your core to the tips of your toes. Goosebumps spread as a shiver rushes down your spine.

Then you get out your rabbit and the lube and shuffle out of your underwear. You coat the toy with lube, wipe your hand against yourself and turn it on, letting it rest against you for a moment, cycling through the settings until you reach your favourite. You think, not for the first time, as you slip it inside you, smoothly, easily, how much you wish you had one of these moulded from Jungkook’s cock. He thought you were joking the first time you said it, but you weren’t then and aren’t now. You want to be able to have him inside you even when he wasn’t around – or at times like this when he is around but isn’t allowed inside you. Nothing compares to him and while this toy might get the job done, it will never be the same.

The little rabbit ears press intently against your clit as you angle it inside you and start to rock your hips, working out a long, soft moan. You tip your head back and close your eyes, focusing on the coiling pressure in your abdomen. You cycle to another setting – higher, faster, more insistent now – and whimper with every breath as your climax comes closer.

“God, I’ve missed that noise.”

You sit up with a jolt to see Jungkook at the bedroom door, eyes roving hungrily over your naked body.

“Jungkook,” you gasp. “What are you doing here? I thought you had plans.”

He shrugs.

“Changed ’em... Though I might be sorry I did.”

“I thought you were going to be out... But since you’re here...”

You beckon him to the bed as you switch off the toy. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a sigh as he approaches you on the bed. You’re surprised; you thought he would refuse, hold back, protest even a little. Maybe this would be easier than you thought.

He looks at the rabbit, appraising.

“How does it compare, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a smirk just ghosting over his lips.

“It doesn’t, Kookie.” You flop backwards onto the mattress again. “Nothing compares to you.”

“Let me help you.”

You sigh with relief, waiting to hear his trousers unzip or the shuffle of cloth as he undresses but it doesn’t come. Instead, you hear the quiet whirring of vibration as Jungkook turns the rabbit back on. He chooses a different setting – short, intense pulses – and slips the toy back inside you, pushing the ears hard into your clit, forcing a choked moan from your throat.

“Jungkook... Kookie, no. I want you.”

The look on his face is fierce but softens when he looks into your eyes. He kisses your temple and whispers in your ear.

“You know you can’t have me now, baby. Stop playing dirty.”

He takes a hand and pushes low on your stomach as he rocks the toy inside you and changes the setting: insistent, hard vibration that almost sets your teeth chattering.

“Fuck,” you whisper as your walls start to clench and all your muscles tighten and you’re whimpering, mewling, seconds from climax, your breath catching in your throat. You’re a band stretched to its limits and just as you’re about to snap, Jungkook pulls the toy from you and sits back on the bed, not touching you.

“Wh-.. I...”

You look at him, dazed and confused, as he stands up and takes the toy with him out of the room.

“Where are you going?” you call after him, your voice weak and strangled.

You’re itching with frustration and impatience and when he returns, only a minute later, you turn to him, outraged. He’s empty-handed and he sits on the edge of the bed next to you and tucks your hair behind your ear sweetly.

“What are you doing?” you ask, still breathless, heart still pounding in your chest.

He leans closer to you, resting on his forearm on your chest, lightly crushing you beneath his weight as he takes your hand in his and directs it to his crotch, where you can feel his dick, semi-hard under his trousers.

“I’m showing you how hard this is,” he whispers menacingly in your ear. “You’re still not playing fair, little miss.”

He stands and walks out of the room, looking back over his shoulder at you.

“If I don’t get to come, you don’t get to come!” he calls.

You give a little, angry shriek and throw a pillow at him, which misses by miles, and you storm out after him.

“I did not sign up for that!” you shout, giving him a shove.

He grins at you and raises his eyebrows.

“What’s mine is yours, baby.”

“No way! No way! You know the second you leave, I can just make myself come.”

“That’s true,” he admits as he checks his watch, “but I’m not leaving again tonight.”

Furious now, you move closer to him, your hands on his hips. You lick your lips and move a hand between you, palming his erection. His eyes flutter closed.

“Two can play at this game, Jeon,” you hiss, sliding your hand between his trousers and his boxers, running your finger up his turgid length.

“Don’t call me Jeon.”

“Isn’t it your name?”

He tips his head back and bites his lip as you finally breach his boxers, wrapping your fingers around him, squeezing lightly.

“You only call me Jeon when you’re pissed,” he chokes out.

“Yeah, I’m fucking pissed.”

His head tips forward again and he looks at you as you sink to your knees, pulling his clothes down with him. You see him swallow hard.

“Not sure you thought this through, did you?” you ask, swiping your tongue across his head, tasting the tang of his pre-cum. “Here you are, all hard and ready for me...”

You take a hand through your lips, sweeping up your arousal and spreading it on the head of his dick.

“And me all ready for you...”

You wrap your lips around him and take him until he hits your throat, looking up at him through your lashes, then you come up and pause, just holding him in your mouth, your tongue running back and forth across the underside. Jungkook grunts and his eyelids flutter closed. You can see his fists clenching on either of him.

“Y/n...” he groans, quiet and strangled.

“Mm?” you hum, not taking him from your mouth, and you notice the muscle in his jaw jump as he clenches. “You started this,” you remind him, as you trail sloppy, wet kisses down the length of his hot, smooth cock. “I was going to be nice to you, but you had to go and spoil it.” You run your tongue flat across his balls as your hand continues to pump his shaft and he moans.

“Fuck, I miss you,” he whines, his voice high and tight as you run your tongue back to his head, enveloping him in your mouth once again. “God, fuck.”

You hollow your cheeks and suck, your hand and mouth moving as one. Jungkook’s fist moves to your hair, gripping tight, not directing you, just to have something to hold on to. As you push lower, tipping your head to take him into your throat, he jerks.

“No, no, no, stop! Stop.”

He pushes you back by the shoulders and stands, his breathing ragged, looking up at the ceiling and blinking hard. You let him stand there, recovering; you stay kneeling at his feet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, each more aggressive than the last. He pulls his boxers and his trousers back on and looks at you, eyes wild. “No.”

“Kookie... Please.”

You pout up at him, put your hands on his thighs, and shuffle just an inch closer.

“No. Fuck, no, I can’t. I can’t.” He looks at you, alternately desperate and resolved and then shakes his head. “Baby, god, I want to. You know I want to. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

His hand is in your hair again, gently pulling you upwards, pulling you closer. He kisses your cheek and your lips, each little peck lasting a little longer than the last, until he just barely parts his mouth and you grab his bottom lip in your teeth. He moans and pulls away.

“No, no, no, no,” he whispers. “I can’t.” He swallows hard and looks skyward again, praying for strength. Then he repeats his no before stalking off into the spare room, cursing under his breath.

You sigh, more frustrated than ever, and, having spotted your stolen sex toy on the bathroom counter, you go back to finish what you started.

TWO WEEKS TO GO

Jungkook is sleeping in the spare room again. He says it’s because you’re not to be trusted, but what he means is that he isn’t to be trusted. He could barely trust himself around you before, but two weeks into the ban, he can’t risk taking any chances. Especially not with the way you’ve been behaving.

Apparently, so you tell him, there’s very little evidence to suggest that sex before a sporting event has as negative effect on performance.

“I even read,” you say, not for the first time, “that not having sex for a while lowers your testosterone so it’s not just that having sex isn’t bad, it might even be good! Don’t you want that?”

He’s trying to block you out. You’ve already told him this and he’s already told you that he’s doing as he’s told. He focuses on the TV, trying to get invested in the storyline, trying to care about the characters while you pester him relentlessly. He has to grit his teeth together and breathe carefully.

“Don’t ignore me, my little hobnob.”

You always pull out that biscuit when you think he needs to lighten up. He tries not to grin, not very successfully, because it’s such a ridiculous name – who calls a biscuit that, really? Then you slip your hands around his waist and rest your chin on his shoulder.

“I miss you,” you say, kissing his shoulder and rubbing his back.

He sighs, dropping his head, carefully trying to revel in your touch without giving in too far.

“I miss you too, love. Just two more weeks.”

You sigh, aggravated, and sit back.

“Yeah, two more weeks; we’re only halfway through. We have to do all of this all over again. Is that really what you want?”

“No, of course it’s not!”

Of course, he doesn’t want it. What he wants is to pin you down and eat you out ’til you’re screaming and then he wants to fuck you like his life depends on it, spend himself on you so hard he literally can’t move. What he wants is the opposite of this. Why can’t you understand that?

He turns to you, shifting his body around and reaches for your hands.

“Of course, it’s not what I want. I want you all the time. Why do you think I’m sleeping in the spare room again? I can barely stand sitting with you like this; every part of me is screaming at me to just take yo-“

“Then do it! Do it! I’m telling you, the science is on our side!”

He has to take a deep breath; he knows you may well be right. And he doesn’t like the thought of doing all this for no reason, for, if the article you read is right, the possibility that he’s actually less strong, less powerful in the ring, but he’s on a path and he has to stick to it.

“I’m doing what Coach says,” he tells you, sounding more resolved than he is. “I hired him for a reason and he’s already said he can notice a difference. This fight is so important and I have to follow him to the letter. I am sorry. I am…”

He is what?

He puffs out his cheeks and sighs. He doesn’t know what to say. There aren’t words for this or, if there are, he doesn’t know them. He leans forward and grabs the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss. He knows he shouldn’t, knows how dangerous this is, but he misses you so much and he’s so upset and you’re so upset and he has to do something.

You scoot forward and sit yourself in his lap. His heart hammers in his chest, anxiety or desire or a heady mix of both, he’s not sure but his mind is slipping away from him and he’s not sure he cares anymore. He wraps his arms around you as his tongue finds yours. You’ve hardly had this much of each other over the last week and he’s ravenous. You moan into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue and he feels a stirring in his crotch. He can feel you, just above him, and he wants to push you down, roll your hips over his, but he daren’t; he doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop himself if you do.

He's breathless with the need of you and it catches in his throat as you grind into him. He moans and bites hard at your bottom lip; you keep going, kissing him hard so that he can’t speak.

Jungkook gathers up his strength and pulls back, holding you tight in place so you can’t chase after him. He’s breathing heavily and his hand trembles as he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Y/n…” He doesn’t know if it’s a plea or a warning; he doesn’t have any more words to follow. There isn’t anything he can say or do that will make this situation anything other than torture. Nothing will make you feel better than being fucked by him, fucked hard, nothing more and nothing less. He knows because he feels the same. He’s almost dizzy with desire; he’s giddy but clinging with desperation to the last remnants of his self-control. There’s a tiny voice at the back of his head proud of him for having come this far, but he can’t listen to it because we all know what comes before a fall and he can’t afford a fall like this.

It's the title. It’ll be his first title. This win will put him on the map. This win will establish him as a real, professional boxer, one to beat; this will be, he hopes, the first of many belts, many titles. His coach has real faith in him, he believes he can make it to world champion if he works hard enough. And Jungkook wants it. He wants to work; he wants to win. And now, he has to win. Losing is not an option. And once he has won, once this is over – in two, long, painful weeks – it’ll have all been worth it and he’ll be able to have you six ways from Sunday, every day of the week.

“Please don’t stop,” you whimper and the open, desperate pleading of your glistening eyes goes straight to his dick. “Please, please.”

He’s had to resist your pleading before; he’s even enjoyed resisting your cries and pleas, but that’s when he’s been in control; that’s when he’s been ramping up to wrecking you once, twice, three times, as many times as you can take. This is ramping up to nothing and your pleading only makes him feel broken.

You bring your face to his again and he can’t back away. You kiss him with urgency, running your hands over his body beneath his T-shirt, teasing his nipples until he’s fully hard, straining against his boxers, pressing against your crotch. You strip off your own top and Jungkook’s resolve crumbles. He dips his head, lifting you slightly from his lap to kiss your breasts, to flick his tongue over your nipples and swirl them in his mouth, one at a time, until they’re tight and hard. He bites hungrily and you mewl above him, whining his name. It’s like heaven to him and he can’t believe he hasn’t had this for two weeks; the two weeks stretching out in front of you are paling, forgotten in some faraway corner of his mind.

He's kidding himself that he can last a little longer with you lifted up like this, your hips no longer grinding your core into him. He keeps his mouth occupied at your chest and squeezes your glutes in his hands, then slipping them into the wide legs of your shorts. When he pulls your underwear to the side with one hand, and slips the fingers of his other hand into your warm, waiting slip, he sighs with satisfaction. You’re tight and soft and so, so wet.

You take his face in your hands and pull him back to your mouth. The kiss is all tongue and heavy breathing, messy and far from pretty but you’re each so desperate for the other that nothing else matters. You kiss his cheek and his jaw and bite down on his earlobe, whining breathily as he presses insistently against your front wall, each curl of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge. He slips his other hand behind your underwear and spreads your slick over your clit, rubbing insistently, knowing you’re getting close. He can tell by the sounds you’re making, sounds he’d work out of you every day of his life if he could.

“God, Kookie, baby, yes.”

You plant your lips on his neck, muffling your whines and whimpers as the heat builds inside you. Jungkook groans, shivering as you suck on his neck, as your cunt clenches his fingers tight, as your legs shake on either side of him. He doesn’t stop, can’t stop even when you’re tugging his hair, even when you’re squirming, even when you’re screaming his name. He’s far away now, lost in the bliss of your velvet heat. He’s insistent and you’re so sensitive that he pulls another orgasm from you with a cry and a shudder that takes your whole body. He’s so focused on you as a way of distracting himself from his own intense, aching desire. He’s painfully hard; he can feel the spreading circle of pre-cum on his boxers; he’s not entirely sure he won’t come even if you don’t touch him.

Then you flop against him, spent, and your hand grazes his crotch and he jerks violently.

“Fuck!” he gasps and tears prick in his eyes. He can’t look at you; he stares far away, out of the window, trying to stop his dick throbbing, trying to slow his heartrate, trying without success to calm himself.

“Kookie,” you whimper, your voice shaky. “Let me-“

“No,” he whispers, no strength in his voice, no strength anywhere in his body except his stiff, swollen cock. He closes his eyes and he can feel a tear trickle down his cheek, followed by your lips as you kiss it away. He flinches at the contact and whimpers when you stroke his hair.

“I can help you,” you whisper but he doesn’t hear you.

He’s lost, his mind strangled with desperate desire. His brain is whirring, swimming, floating away from him; his fingers tingle and shake and his heart thumps erratically in his chest. He’s never been this excruciatingly turned on before and knowing that he can’t see it through is heart-breaking.

You move your hand towards the waistband of his trousers and he grabs your wrist. He’s gripping so tightly, he’s sure it’ll hurt, but he can’t be gentle now.

“Don’t-,” he starts but his words are swallowed by a sob.

You press your forehead against his and he can’t stop the whimper as you kiss him, so light, so soft. He holds your face in his hands, barely even really touching, trying not to tangle them in your hair and pull you closer. You stay like that, just looking at each other for a minute or more, his eyes never leaving yours. He knows he needs to calm down, knows he should be calming down now that you’re still but his breathing doesn’t settle and he can hear the thump of his heart and the roar of his blood in his ears.

“Baby,” he says eventually, his voice croaky and hoarse. He has to do something and it has to be something drastic. He needs a shock to the system, a full reset. “I need-… I need you to get something for me.” And he needs you to get it because he’s not sure he can walk, not sure he can move at all.

“Anything.”

“Ice. And water.”

“Huh?”

“Ice and water; I need a big, big glass- a jug of iced water please.” His voice wobbles at the end and he’s trying so hard to regulate his breathing, trying so hard not to feel the pulsing in his underwear.

“Ok…”

You shift on his lap but he can’t let you go. His fingers twine in your hair and you have to pry them out to allow you to get up.

With the relief of you off him, the air around him clears and he jumps up, taking off his T-shirt and pushing his trousers to the floor. Once again needing to do something with his hands while he waits for you, he holds them out to the side, not daring to let them anywhere near his erection, fists clenching and unclenching. He feels like he might really be on the edge of a heart attack or an aneurysm. He feels abnormal, like nothing he’s ever felt before. He could keel over.

He can hear you, the ice clinking in the glass and he taps his feet, impatient. When you hand it over, he takes it with both hands and up-ends it all over himself.

“Jungkook!” you cry, as water splashes all over the floor and the sofa and the coffee table, but it sounds distant, the shock of the water temporarily sending him far away. He’s gasping and shivering and blinking hard, then screwing his eyes tight.

“I need you to go,” he tell you, still unable to look at you.

“Go where?”

“Anywhere, baby, literally anywhere,” his voice is still wobbling, his teeth chattering. “If we’re still in the same room in five seconds, I think I’m going to die. Come or die, either way, I don’t know but please, please just go.”

“Ok, I’m going, I’m going.”

He can barely hear you; he scrubs his hands over his face, swearing over and over and over again, begging the universe to let him calm down, to make these next two weeks go as quickly as they possibly can.

ONE WEEK TO GO

Jungkook hasn’t taken any more risks since that night. And he has also told you, almost every day since, to behave yourself, to stop doing that; he’s asked if you’re trying to kill him and the truth is: yes. You’re sick of it now; it takes almost nothing to get you hot: just the thought of him, randomly popping into your head as you’re trying to send emails at work, and you’re getting wet. You can’t sleep anymore. He’s still in the spare room but you lie in your bed, thinking about him lying in the other bed, and you can’t help yourself. You make yourself come again and again but it’s never enough. You can’t believe that he’s not only managed to ruin all other men for you but also your own damn self. You know how to push all your buttons but it’s not the same when it’s you doing it, it's not the same without Jungkook between your thighs.

You know there’s only a week to go, but it’s too long and you’re too frustrated and you’re reaching your boiling point. So, you do what any other sane person would do: naked protest. You stop wearing clothes in the house entirely, getting dressed only to go out and stripping as soon as the front door shuts behind you. When you first walk into the kitchen as Jungkook is eating breakfast, he chokes on his cereal and you have to slap him on the back; you feel his eyes following you as you make yourself a cup of tea and some porridge.

Now he’s just ignoring you. He’s doing his best to stay out of any room you are in, but that’s fine. It’s a small apartment and you’ve hidden his noise-cancelling headphones, so you know he can hear you when you moan and whine, wanton and gratuitous, as you do your best to fix your frustration.

He still hasn’t broken. You’re impressed, honestly. You didn’t think that he would be able to hold out this long and, as aggravated as you are, as deeply, unutterably frustrated as you are, you can’t help but admire his self-control. Unable to be in the same room as you, he texts you and tells you that his trainer is impressed with his performance and is confident about the fight; he believes he can win. He had fucking better win is what you think, but you text back something a little more supportive.

Six days before the fight and Jungkook is in the shower. You’re at a loose end, so you decide to join him. You thank the lord that he didn’t lock the door; he’s got his back to you and doesn’t notice you there until your hands are on his waist. He cries out in surprise and goes to turn around but you hold him still, kissing his shoulder and his back and the nape of his neck. You run your hands up his abs, grab his fulsome pecs, and peeking around his shoulder, you’re delighted to see he’s already hard.

“Were you about to masturbate in this shower?” you ask him, only half-serious.

“No,” he groans. “This is how badly I want you, y/n. Why are you making this so hard?”

You giggle at his choice of words and he growls deep in his throat. He turns around and cages you in against the screen with his hands either side of you.

“In six days,” he tells you, his voice low, face serious, eyes pinning you to the spot. “In six days, I am going to fucking destroy you. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk straight for a week; I’m going to fill you up so completely, my cum never stops dripping out of you; I’m going to make you scream so loud, our neighbours want to call the police; I’m going to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you again, then I’m going to fuck you some more and I’m still not going to be done. I’m going to take this cock,” he says, grabbing it at the base and hissing hard through his teeth as he does, “and I’m going to wreck your pretty little throat and your pretty little pussy, is that what you want?”

You can only nod, mute with desire, as you can feel arousal drip down your legs and you shiver, despite the warm, steamy atmosphere. Jungkook nudges his nose against yours, eyes still black as pitch, and he whispers in your ear.

“In six days.”

Then he leans back and stands back under the stream of water.

“Now get the fuck out.”

You’re so overwhelmed, you just do as he says and he follows behind you, shutting the door – and locking it – as soon as you’ve crossed the threshold. You blink hard and, as you come to your senses, you feel too many things at once: hot, frustrated, desperate, livid, heartbroken, a little bit intimidated, a lot excited, and over and above everything else, impatient.

Jungkook stands in the shower, turning the water icy again. He’s shaking, trembling all over, and before he can get himself under control, he’s sobbing. Hands against the tiles, shivering with cold and shuddering through ragged breaths, he drops his head and cries. Cries because he’s so frustrated, because he misses you so much, because he’s so tired, because he hates disappointing you, because he’s anxious, because he’s not sleeping well at night without you, because a tiny, paranoid thought niggles at him that this is going to make you leave him, because he can’t live without you and if he didn’t know it before, he knows it now.

He cries under the cold water for so long that it stops feeling cold against his skin and when he finally steps out of the shower, his skin is livid red and icy to the touch.

He goes to stay at a friend’s house that night.

“Look, I love you so much and I miss you so much that I can’t be around you,” reads his text. “Just thinking about you makes me want to die a seriously Little Death. The fight will be over soon; just six more days and I promise, I’ll give you everything you want and more. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please, please, please wait for me.”

“I love you, too, my little Bourbon,” you reply. “But I might never forgive you for this.”

“I promise, I’ll make you forgive AND forget, just wait ’til Saturday.”

He stares at his phone, wishing the messages said something different. He knows you’re joking, thinks you’re joking, hopes you’re joking, at least a little bit.

He sends a string of different kiss emojis and you toss your phone down beside you. Considering your small arsenal of sex toys without hope, you pick one at random, knowing even before you’ve started that it’s not even going to touch the sides of your desire. Your need for Jungkook has become a yawning chasm that stretches further than the eye can see; and it is a need for Jungkook specifically. For one mad moment a few days ago, you had considered the possibility of going out and getting fucked by someone else, but the second you thought it, it repulsed you: you don’t need a dick, you need his dick; you need his mouth; you need his hands. You need him, no one and nothing else. Accept no imitations. Which is really rather a pain right now.

You try to focus on your body, on the pleasure building there, the pleasant thrum in your core as you work with the vibrator in your folds and against your clit. You try to think about nothing, removing Jungkook from the equation, just emptying your mind and focusing on the physical sensations of your body.

It doesn’t work and you get so frustrated that you throw the vibrator in the bin and then, that not being enough, scoop up the others and chuck them in there, too. What’s the point of them, you think to yourself bitterly.

These had better be the fastest six days of your life or you aren’t sure you’ll survive.

FIGHT NIGHT

It was finally here. Jungkook had been working towards this for months, years, for his whole life in a way. It was both the pinnacle of his career and the first step of what he hoped would be a very long journey to the top. The final fight in his bid to be The Ring’s Super Middleweight champion: his opponent, Saul ‘Canelo’ Alvarez. Jungkook has him on reach and height, and he’s also lighter, which he thinks will be to his advantage. Canelo might be a slugger, but that’s where Jungkook excels. People think that his lightness is a disadvantage, that he doesn’t have the strength to throw hard enough punches, that he’s weak, that he’s Amir Khan. But he’s better than that. He’s agile and yes, slighter than other super middleweights, but he’s also strong and he’s also powerful and there’s nothing like seeing the surprise in his opponent’s face when he got his first punch in and they realised that for themselves. Of course, now he’s getting better known, he’s losing that element of surprise but it’s hardly the only thing he’s got in his keep.

But he’s not thinking about that. Today, just like all the other days this week, he’s thinking about you. His coach keeps telling him that he’s strong, that he seems focused, that he seems strong, but Jungkook isn’t entirely convinced. All he can think about is you; his mind is already beyond the fight and he’s anxious that this is going to be his undoing, that he’s going to have survived these past four weeks only to be so keyed up and desperate in the ring that he loses.

He wishes he could see you, just for five minutes, but you’ve been banned from his presence on fight days. You’re also banned from the gym on training days. Jungkook agrees with Coach that that’s probably for the best but it doesn’t mean he likes it. You are a distraction, there’s no denying it, but today, he really feels like he needs it. He needs you. Even an ounce, even a drop of you will do.

He pulls out his phone and dials your number.

“Kookie! Are you ok?” You sound concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“We never speak on fight days; I thought something might be wrong.”

Jungkook sighs and leans his head back against the wall.

“Something is wrong: I miss you.”

“Jungkook! Don’t scare me like that!”

He laughs and knows he was right to call you; just hearing your voice is like a balm to his fraying nerves. He already feels more relaxed.

“I’m sorry, love,” he replies. “I just wanted to hear your voice; we haven’t spoken this week.”

“I know and whose fault is that?”

“I know, I know, it’s mine, but I can’t wait to see you. Even if I lose this fight, as long as I’ve got you, I’m good, I’m a winner.”

“Hey now, you’re not going to lose, my little oat and raisin cook-”

“You don’t like that flavour cookie, do you?”

“Well, I don’t, no, but I thought I’d go with the least sexy flavour, in respect of how easy it is to get a ‘rise’ out of you at the moment.”

He snorts, appreciative of the weird, little effort.

“I think you’re right: raisins are not sexy but cookies are sexy biscuits, aren’t they? By default? Sexier than normal biscuits, right?”

“So you’re saying we need a raisin biscuit that isn’t a cookie.”

“Yeah.

“Garibaldi?”

Jungkook laughs.

“I don’t even know what that is, love, but sure, it doesn’t sound sexy.”

“Ok, then, I know you’re not going to lose, my little garibaldi.”

He laughs again and tells you that his coach has said the same thing (“… not in the same words”). He wishes he could stay on the phone with you longer; having barely spoken to you this week, he misses your voice, your presence, your conversation, just as much if not more than he misses your body. He sees his coach crossing the room, approaching him and he rings off reluctantly, but relieved he got even a minute with you before tonight.

He’s pacing in the dressing room; it’s almost time. He considered asking you not to come to this one; he’s not sure that he’ll be able to focus knowing you’re so much as in the room. The usual rule is that you’re allowed to attend but you have to sit somewhere in the back, somewhere he won’t be able to see you; he’s not sure if that’ll be enough tonight. Coach is talking to him, trying to hype him up, but he can’t hear a word. He just knows he needs to end this fight as soon as he possibly can and that means not going out there all guns blazing like a reckless thug in a bar fight; it means taking a step back (and he physically does it, takes one step back), taking a deep breath, and remembering the strategy, remembering the training. He’s ready for this (“You’re ready for this, JK,” Coach cries); he’s going to destroy Canelo (“You’re going to smash it, mate; you’re going to destroy him!”); and then he’s going to destroy you and himself in that order.

Canelo seems thrown off by Jungkook at the start: his size, maybe, his strength, his Southpaw stance despite being right-handed, Jungkook can’t be sure, but he wins the first round decisively and it’s exactly how he needs it to go: he likes to be the underdog but he likes an early lead. Spite and competitiveness can get you surprisingly far in life. He was right that Canelo is heavy and Jungkook is able to run rings around him; he thinks he might genuinely be able to get this wrapped up early, if he can just manage to hit him hard enough.

That turns out to be an ambitious goal and, halfway through, he’s slightly down on points. He’s frustrated; he can’t quite work out why his punches aren’t landing. Are they really not connecting? It certainly doesn’t feel like it. Are the judges just not seeing them? He’s not sure what he can do about that. He spits out the water Coach squirted in his mouth and he’s nodding at his advice. As he stands to get ready for the seventh round, his eyes roam the crowd, not looking for anything, just looking. Then his stomach flips. He sees you.

You’re sitting in your seat, anxious and uncomfortable. It always makes you anxious to see him fight, even though you know he’s trained for this and he’s as safe as anyone else would be in the same situation, but you flinch every time Canelo lands a punch. Jungkook hasn’t lost a fight all year and you’re surprised to see him losing – even if not by many points. You hadn’t really considered the possibility of him losing, because he doesn’t. He’s Jungkook. He’s the Baby Assassin of Busan. He doesn’t lose.

But things go from bad to worse. The next rounds see Jungkook falter, making uncharacteristic mistakes and misjudgements that cost him points. As the bell rings at the end of the tenth round, you can see the frustration in Jungkook’s face from here. Your stomach twists; you know how much this fight means to him and how upset he’ll be if he loses. You try to rouse yourself; it’s not over ’til it’s over. There are two rounds to go and he’s not so far behind he can’t make it up. There’s still a chance.

When Jungkook stands for the eleventh round, you see him scanning the crowd in your direction. You panic, should you hide? Duck? Cover your face? Too late; his eyes find yours and the second stretches into eternity, just you and him, before he’s tapped by the ref and he turns away. You shouldn’t have come. You’re a distraction. You’re going to make it worse.

Jungkook is going to lose.

The bell rings and Jungkook feels sprightly, buoyed, suddenly less tired than he had done in the last round. He dances energetically around the ring, keeping Canelo moving, keeping him throwing punches and missing, throwing more punches and missing again and again. You’re on the edge of your seat; this is the Jungkook you know. All at once, he lands three punches on Canelo and leaps back out of his retaliatory reach. Then he settles in a bit closer and lets Canelo land a couple on him; this… isn’t the Jungkook you know. You can’t work out what he’s doing; you’ve not seen him do this before. You turn to the clock, watching the seconds of the round tick by. Thirty seconds left. You check the points. Jungkook still behind.

This is more like it, Jungkook thinks. He can end it. He knows he can. He just has to let Canelo let his guard down a little more, tire him out a little further. Jungkook is not letting this get to twelve rounds. It won’t happen. Not on his watch.

You’re so focused on the screen: the points, the time, that you miss what causes the crowd to suddenly surge and scream. Canelo is standing with the referee in front of him, looking a little dazed. The ref lets them continue and the round commences again. Before Canelo has even blinked, Jungkook has hit him with a left hook that you know he put all his weight into. Canelo falls to the mat and doesn’t get back up. The ref starts counting. The crowd count with him.

“8… 9… 10!”

The ref waves a wide cross in front of him; the commentator declares it a knockout; and the crowd is screaming. Jungkook’s arms are in the air, his coach lumbering into the ring to envelope him in a hug, along with everyone else, it seems, the ring suddenly full of people. You lose sight of Jungkook. You’re on your feet, straining to see over the heads of the people in front of you, who are doing the very same thing. Tiny red fists emerge from the mêlée and it’s him; you exhale a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. You’re desperate to get to him. It’s over. The fight’s finally over. And he won. By knockout after a hard fight. This is absolutely the best outcome, better even than you’d hoped for. You bet he’s on cloud nine and you can’t wait to join him there.

Jungkook is buzzing. He’s done it. It’s finally over. And that means there’s only one thing on his mind. He can’t focus, is barely there as they hand him his belt, as he lifts it above his head to show the screaming crowd. People are congratulating him, slapping his back, rubbing his hair; at some point, someone takes his hands and rips off his gloves – he’s not sure where they end up. The fight was televised and a man with a microphone approaches him. He tries hard to focus on the questions, answering as quickly as he can and then the presenter asks just what he’s going to do now he’s won his first Super Middleweight title.

“Well,” he answers, “I haven’t come in four weeks so I’m going to go find my girl and fuck her in the dressing room ’til neither of us can walk straight!”

He points right at you, flicks a peace sign to the crowd and jogs back the way he entered 45 long minutes ago.

He keeps jogging all the way to the dressing room, stopping for precisely nobody. Coach tries to grab his attention, tries to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs him off. Wild horses can’t keep him from you now.

He swings open the dressing room, for a moment disappointed that you’re not there before him, but, of course you wouldn’t be. He’ll have to wait; it’s been four weeks, he can cope with another four minutes. Probably. He paces back and forth, back and forth; he chugs half a bottle of water; he almost wipes the sweat off his body, dries his hair, but then he remembers how much you like him dirty like this. Just the thought of you has got him hard already. He palms himself through his shorts and immediately has to stop himself; to come before you’ve even got in the door is unthinkable, unforgivable.

The door opens and there you are.

“Fucking finally.”

Jungkook slams his hands either side of your head, leaning down over you, sweat still dripping from his hair. He lowers one hand slowly to lock the door, his dark eyes never leaving yours, and then returns it next to your head.

“Did you have to wear fucking jeans?” he asks, laughing lightly. Of course, she’d wear jeans, he thinks, fucking tease. “Couldn’t find a dress? A skirt?”

“Sorry,” you answer, and you’re already breathless.

Jungkook kisses you, pressing his whole body against you and you sigh; god how you’ve missed this. He turns you around with one knock of his hand on your hip and he unbuttons your jeans impatiently. He shoves them roughly down your legs and you step out of them and your shoes at the same time.

“Oh baby, I don’t care. All I care about is finally getting to fuck you like you deserve. Please tell me you’re wet already. I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”

He’s usually more considerate; he would usually take his time. But this is not a usual situation. You laugh.

“Kookie, I’ve been wet for weeks, just hurry the fuck up, would you?”

He doesn’t need telling twice. He strips off his shorts and boxers and as he presses the head of his cock against your entrance, and it twitches, he gasps.

“Shit.”

He takes a few breaths, tries to steady himself. He kisses your neck, buying himself some time. He’s on a hair trigger and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t blow his load in one thrust.

“Just so you know,” he tells you, figuring there’s nothing else for it. “I’m going to last about ten seconds right now, but I promise, I’ll be ready to go again. I swear this won’t be it.”

“Just fuck me, please, Kookie. I’ll take ten seconds over none.”

Your whole body shudders as he presses into you for the first time in four weeks. You both moan low and Jungkook pauses at the bottom. You can feel him breathing heavily against your skin and he takes your trapezius in his teeth, taking a generous bite and not letting go as he drags himself backwards before thrusting in again. Your walls are spasming already; you’re so tight and he’s stretching you just right, filling you up like you’ve not been filled for 29 long days.

Ten seconds, as it happens, was an over-estimation. The way you grip him, the way he can feel your walls fluttering against him; you’re so hot and wet and tight and it’s been so long and he’s so sensitive. He lasts for all of a handful of thrusts before he’s groaning and shooting hot, white ropes of cum into you.

“Fuck, shit, sorry, baby, fuck!”

You can’t help but laugh as you turn around, keeping your legs tight together. He grins sheepishly at you and runs a hand through his sweaty hair.

“I’m sorry, love, I did tell you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve missed you so much.”

His hands meet across your lower back and he pulls you close for a kiss.

“I’ve missed you, too, Kookie,” you mumble against his lips, half your words eaten up by Jungkook’s mouth. You feel his tongue against your lower lip and you open up for him, sliding your tongue over his as he licks into your mouth. God, even this you’ve missed. You’ve barely even seen him in the last week, let alone got close to him, let alone touched him, let alone kissed him, even chastely. It’s overwhelming now to have him so close to you, all over you. You never want him any further away.

He moves his hands lower and lifts you up under your bum, carrying you to the sofa, where he strips you of your top and bralet – the black, lacy one you know he likes. You almost pout that he takes no notice of it but he catches you eye and grins.

“I notice, I know, I love you, thank you, but god, I don’t want a stitch on you right now. Nothing is better than you like this.” He stretches his hands out over your naked body and climbs over you. He ducks again, swallowing your next moan as he pinches at your nipple.

His mouth is everywhere, burning wherever it touches. You’re sweating and breathless and you think you won’t last much longer than ten seconds either when he finally touches you. Your cunt is quivering in anticipation, your clit throbbing a hard pulse, its echoes shuddering through you. Your back arches as Jungkook moves lower, his mouth on one nipple and then the next and then lower and lower still. He crawls off the sofa onto his knees and pulls you around, legs dangling from the edge. He spreads your thighs wide and takes a moment, looking down at your soaking wet pussy through half-lidded eyes. He licks his lips and clicks his neck from one side to the next before fixing you with a mischievous grin.

“If you even think about teasing me,” you gasp out. “I will fucking murder you.”

He laughs and kisses your inner thigh.

“You over-estimate my self-control, my love. I’m at my fucking limit.”

He is. He isn’t even close to finished with you. His cock is already stirring again as he dives straight in, licking a broad stripe from core to clit and moaning lasciviously as he does. You’re already so sensitive, whining and whimpering as he sucks and slurps at you, his face buried so far into the crux of your thighs, you don’t know if he can breathe. Almost immediately, you’re cresting, arching off the sofa, thighs clamping together on Jungkook’s head as a streak of hot pleasure surges through you and fresh arousal gushes over his face.

He brings his hands to your thighs and forces them apart without breaking contact with your cunt. He doesn’t stop, no matter how you squirm; you can’t catch your breath to tell him you’re over-stimulated, to beg him to stop, to give you a second’s break. A scream breaks in your throat as he pushes three fingers inside you and you’re seeing stars. He finally takes his mouth from you and breathes heavily against you, his breath sending sprinkles of goosebumps across your skin. He curls his fingers inside you and then tips your hips just slightly, suddenly hitting the perfect spot. You’re incoherent, animal, as you moan and whimper, stuttering to another orgasm under his ministrations.

You don’t have to find a way to ask him to remove his fingers as the waves of your orgasm roll through you but just as you are about to breathe a sigh of relief, his mouth is back on you. He’s gentle this time, more patient. He kisses your lips, licks through your folds slowly, moaning, his brows knitting together because it’s been so long since he’s tasted you and there’s nothing he’d ever rather eat. He buries his tongue in your hole, bumping your clit with his nose; if it were anyone else, it might be accidental, but you know Jungkook knows your body perfectly and knows exactly what he's doing. You’re raw, over-wrought, dehydrated. Your vision swims and your voice gets stuck in your throat, able only to gasp and stutter, not even able to scream his name out loud as you scream it in your head. Your hands tremble, one pushing back the hair on your head, the other finding its way to Jungkook’s hair, tangling there as if you could even dream of giving him direction right now.

His eyes flick to yours and they’re black, pupils dilated, lids fluttering quickly to a close again as he moans, vibrating lips sealing around your screamingly sensitive clit. Your hand pulls sharply at his hair, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. You feel like every atom in your body has been electrified, every touch, every movement – yours or his – sending sparks straight to your core, where they’re churned up into a tight ball. Like the death of a star, your body collapses in on itself, contracting and tightening as you are reduced to little more than a silent scream, and then explodes, a supernova of ecstasy exploding within you, scattering bits of you all over the room.

When you open your eyes, you can see stars wherever you look, which isn’t far because you can’t find it within you to move a single muscle.

“You ok, my love?”

Jungkook’s face swims into view, a dopey grin on his sticky, wet face. He looks drunk or high or both. He pushes the hair off your face, your flushed cheeks, fucked-out, dilated pupils staring straight at him; he thinks you look high or drunk or both. He kisses you so you can taste yourself on his lips and you’re suddenly hungry again.

“Kookie.” Your voice is hoarse and low, still strangled with need.

Jungkook hums against your mouth as he lifts you up, pressing your back into the back of the sofa.

“Kookie.”

You manage to grab his face between your palms and hold him still, giving you a chance to focus on him, see him properly.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, as eager to please and energetic as a new puppy and you have no idea how. He should be tired; he knows he’s going to crash hard, but right now, there’s adrenaline surging through him like there’s no tomorrow. He’s wired; he’s excited; he feels almost manic with love and lust and he’s so high, he can’t see the ground. He feels like he could go all night and he’s certainly going to try.

“I need you inside me, right now, right this second. Please, please, please.”

You aren’t exactly unaccustomed to begging but nothing will stop the stream of ‘please’s tumbling from your mouth. Nothing, that is, except the head of Jungkook’s perfect cock in your folds, waiting, teasing at your entrance.

He’s lifted you again, setting you on the arm of the sofa, him kneeling on the cushions; with nothing to rest against, you cling to him tight as your breath catches in your throat. He watches closely as he pushes into the tight, wet slip of your cunt, watching himself disappear into you. You want to make a joke about lasting another ten seconds but you don’t have the energy, the capacity, the mental agility to make it; you just about manage to cry his name as starts to thrust, smooth and slow at first, but soon, quicker, harder, accompanied by quiet growls and grunts as he grips you tight. You really do feel drunk, giddy, hysterical as he’s finally, finally back where he belongs. You feel tears prick in your eyes at the relief of it, the pressure, the pleasure.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he whispers. “Shit, I can’t wait to fill you up, stuff you fucking full. Can you take it, baby?”

He’s relieved he hasn’t come again already, though he knows he could. He’s holding back because he’s still so close to the edge. If he isn’t careful, he’s going to lose it again.

“I can take it,” you reply, voice high and tight. “Give it to me, Kookie- fuck.”

He grabs the hair at the back of your head and pulls it back, exposing your neck so he can kiss you, lick you, bite you there, moaning against your skin as you whimper and stutter.

“Kookie, shit, please. I need you to fuck me forever. God, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he grunts. “Shit, won’t stop. I’m yours, baby.”

“Only mine.”

“Only yours.”

You press your lips to his clavicle, then lick a bead of sweat travelling down his throat. Jungkook moves faster still, his grip on you painfully tight as he threatens your cervix with every thrust. You’re so sensitive, you’re at an almost constant spasm around him; your limbs still heavy and weak, tingling like they’re both going numb and coming back to life. You simultaneously want this to last forever and feel like you’ll die if a single extra ounce of pleasure is put on you. Then Jungkook sucks at that one spot on your neck that makes you melt and you swear, voice wavering and breaking.

“Give me one more, baby,” he demands, so low you almost don’t hear it.

“I don’t have it,” you whimper.

“Yes, you do, c’mon, y/n.”

And he slips a hand between you, never letting his pace falter.

“Jesus, fuck!”

He touches you gently, but it’s enough to have reality slipping from view, your vision burning white, your blood roaring, screaming in your ears as you cum again. You hold him tight, your nails digging into his back, your teeth hard on the delicate flesh of his neck. It rolls through you, knocking your breath from your lungs, and once it’s passed, you’re trembling, shaking.

Jungkook is holding his breath, straining to last to fuck you through your orgasm; you’re so tight around him it’s like his brain loses signal, just a siren wailing an emergency. No thoughts, no words, when you collapse against him, he exhales, and releases into you with a long, high-pitched sigh.

He lies back onto the sofa, taking you with him.

“That was more than ten seconds, right?” he asks, breathless.

You laugh and pat his shoulder.

“Well done, little jammy dodger; I’m proud of you.”

“For lasting more than ten seconds or winning the title?”

“What title?”

The question leaves your lips before your brain has engaged and Jungkook laughs, first a little and then a lot, so much that you can’t help but laugh with him, can’t help but laugh until you’re crying, your abs hurting, you’re silent in your mirth, breathless and voiceless and hysterical.

When you finally stop, you bring your face level to his. He still has tears of laughter in his eyes and streaking his cheeks. You wipe them away with your thumb and he turns his head to kiss your palm.

“Both, I guess?” you answer.

He grins and shakes his head.

“I almost lost. I thought I was going to fucking lose,” he tells you. “That second half, I-…”

“What happened?”

“I saw you. I saw you in the crowd and I almost fucking came right then and there.” He laughs, though it was anything but funny at the time. “I couldn’t concentrate on the fight; all I could think about was trying not to get a fucking boner. Shit what a stupid fucking idea it was not having sex for four we-”

“I fucking told you!”

“I know, I know. I will never not listen to you ever again for the rest of my life, I swear. God.”

“No more sex bans?”

“No more sex bans. I am never, ever not having sex with you again.”

“Good.”

You lift yourself onto your elbows on his chest and kiss him first on the lips, then the jaw and neck and anywhere within reach.

“Speaking of never not having sex… Are you ready to go again?”

[bnecaz]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ TASHI, ART, PATRICK + LOVE LANGUAGES

Warnings; Separated, Sex, I wrote all as fem!reader but you can imagine however you want!!

Tashi knows that she doesn't always have enough time with you, she is always busy with work, having to train art and all her commitments, but she is a woman who is constantly praising you with words of affirmation, especially if she is your coach, always telling you how proud she is of you even when you make something wrong, Words of affirmation for her are the way to say she loves you.

As much as Tashi likes or wants quality time, she doesn't have it, she almost never stops at home, making this difficult, but she always takes you to all her games (stanford) and takes you to see her practicing art or anything else stupid so you can be with her but in the few moments she spent with you, you would spend 2 hours straight on her lap, while she told you how stressful training art was.

But she's also a big fan of giving gifts, it's not like that would put a dent in her pocket, sometimes she comes home with an outfit that you've wanted for so long but never even mentioned to her, but she noticed by the way your eyes lit up, sometimes gifts aren't so humble, like one time she was traveling around the world a lot she literally bought you a private plane so you could go out with your friends whenever you wanted, she could literally be poor if she buys gifts and things whenever she thought you deserved it.

Tashi doesn't know how to do acts of service that well, she doesn't have that much experience with her, but for you she makes an effort, Before you wake up, she prepares a morning coffee for you or at least tries to (she tells Lily's nanny to make it and say that she made it) or takes you to a restaurant and tells them to do something specifically for you, and as much as you like how she tries to do some things for you, you think it's better not to let her try to do things for you, last time she spent more than 10 eggs in a cake, just for you, and you can't say that this woman has a daughter like that.

Tashi is not a big fan of physical touch, but she doesn't hate it with you, she doesn't mind hugging you or anything, she just thinks she doesn't know how to do it right, but cut this woman some slack, she patted your shoulder after you've done something right in front of her daughter and she spent the whole week talking about you.

In other cases, she unconsciously puts her hand on your thigh and gives you a gentle squeeze to warn you about something or just because she's bored, and the last time she hugged you out of her own free will was when you were feeling really bad and she hugged you, she was all stiff and looked like a statue, maybe she needs to learn more lmao.

Art loves both giving and receiving words of affirmation but I truly believe that he becomes so silly and idiotic when he is praised or any small thing that you praise him for, he gets so blushing and laughs like a child, he always texts you after you two seeing each other or after you see each other for a short period, things vary like:

How did you play so well today?! it can't be the same person haha :)

you were so beautiful today💗

( It is canon, art uses Heart and smiley emojis, I don't make the rules)

In the same way as Tashi, he is always very busy whether training or dealing with commitments for quality time, but when this man has holidays he is so cute that you feel sorry to refuse him, he invites you to his house, for picnics or invites you to the most luxurious restaurant in the world and says "I'm sorry for taking you to this, I don't know if you liked fancier restaurants" when in fact this was the most expensive restaurant you've ever been to.

He called you every weekend to his house so you could be together and supposedly watch a "new movie" (you and him fucked)

Damn, this man loves giving gifts that sometimes you feel like scolding him in all honesty, he buys everything and you don't even ask, every week that you see each other he has a bag from a brand that you know is worth more than the salary of 10 men together, and have you ever tried to tell him to try to do something by hand and he made a bouquet with money?????

Surprisingly or not, but he is so good at acts of service that you think surprising. whenever you sleep with him, you wake up with him in the kitchen preparing breakfast, and talking about acts of service and about gifts I faithfully trust that the gifts from him vary over bouquets or anything else cliche and again I don't make the rules.

Oh my god, are we really talking about Art Donaldson if he doesn't like physical touch? This man is like a puppy always wanting your attention, whenever you are walking and you are a few centimeters in front of him he hurries up his steps and grabs your hand like a child.

Every minute he's hugging you, his hand is always on your wrist when you're doing something and you can't hold his hand, and when you're having sex it gets worse, he puts his face on your neck while giving sloppy kisses on your neck and he never wants to take his hands off your waist or your thighs, and after sex it gets worse, he falls on top of you and simply sleeps with his face in your neck😭

Patrick is a man who loves to tease you, he don't mind praising you, and he loves words of affirmation, but he's not direct, he's an idiot, like, when you do something he's proud of he teases you by saying "Maybe you made it good, but it could be better" But he is so proud of you that it hurts, but he will never admit it!

This guy is an idiot and won't leave your side for even a minute, He is intentionally obsessed with quality time, always insisting on going out with you to stupid places and art is always there, Your house/dorm looks like his too, he just comes in to be with you.

He's definitely not the most romantic type in the world, so he doesn't know how to give giving gifts, but he does what he knows, He doesn't have the best conditions in the world so he doesn't buy anything that expensive, but the things he does, no matter how cliche they are, are from the heart.

This guy is really good at acts of service, He loves doing things for you, sometimes he asks art for help, he never told you that but one time he called you to his and art's dorm and made art stay in a closet for 2 hours straight so he could show you something what he did.

He's not like art but he's not like tashi either, he loves to hug you but he's not obsessed with physical contact, he always has a hand on your ass or on your wrist, He also loves being with you on top of him, whether it's just talking to him or even having sex, he just likes to feel you on him.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 6

AN: Let it be known that this Chris lives in my head rent-free. I know exploring free use with a dominant partner isn't a new concept, but I still don't see it explored as much, so I thought it would be fun to try my hand at it. Especially with the king of the service doms.

Synopsis: Everything sucks. Today might be one of the worst days of your life (and that's against some stiff competition). Fortunately for you, you have a boyfriend who is more than happy to distract you.

General tags and warnings: Christopher Bang/Bang Chan x Fem! Reader, established relationship, some angst early on but, nothing too bad imo, Christopher being the nation's best boyfriend and that's it. This is pretty much porn with very little plot.

Primary kink: Free use.

Smut tags and warnings: Chris struggling to relinquish control lmao but, Soft Dom! Chris nonetheless, sub! Reader but she does take charge quite a bit in this, free use, facesitting, slight overstimulation (f. receiving), piv sex without a condom, dirty talk, lots of praise and petnames because it's Chris, Daddy kink, creampie and nipple play (f. receiving).

Word count: 2k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You're surprised you're able to still trudge through your front door after the day you've had. Between completely forgetting about an assignment that was due today, six separate customers yelling at you and your phone screen shattering, saying today has been a bad day would be putting it kindly. You've never wanted to just disappear to a cottage in the countryside more. You're sure you could convince Chris to leave with you.

Speaking of which, the sight of your boyfriend on your shared couch does help ease some of the overall terribleness that has been weighing you down all day. Dropping your bag, you make your way over to him. Wrapping your arms around his broad, solid body while you nuzzle against his neck. His mere presence is enough to relax the tension in your shoulders and soothe the anxiety that never seems to quite go away.

“Hi baby. Didn't know you were home. How was your day?” He asks, taking off his headphones. Placing them and his laptop on your coffee table, which does make you pout a little since he's no longer in your arms. However, he does turn to you and you're struck with just how soft and handsome he looks. That, combined with his question, makes your throat burn and your eyes start to sting.

“Horrible,” you mutter, nestling yourself into his chest and sighing contently when he rubs your back and happily crushes you to his frame. It's easy to forget everything when he holds you like this. All the shitty professors, entitled customers and piles of coursework fade away and there's nothing in your mind but, Chris.

“I'm sorry, baby. Do you want to talk about it? How can I make it better?” God, does he have any idea how irrevocably in love with him you are? Sometimes, you think you might have been some hero in a past life for him to wind up in your life. However, you mull his offer over before an idea finally sets in.

“Lavender?” You ask, blinking up at him and pressing yourself as close to him as humanly possible. Clutching at his simple, thin shirt while you wait for his answer.

“Are you sure? You have had a pretty shitty day so I don't know–”

“Yes, Daddy. I'm sure. So, lavender?” You don't mean to cut him off but, you really do need this right now. His concern is sweet and you always appreciate it but, you just need to shut your brain off for a few hours.

Exhilaration creeps up your spine as you watch the way his face shifts when your words register to him. His hold on you tightening marginally but you notice it all the same.

“Okay, lavender.”

That's all it takes for you to launch yourself into his lap. Nearly toppling both of you over in the process but, Chris steadies you while you make yourself at home in his lap. Holding his face in your hands while you slot your mouth against his. It's messy and more eagerness than anything on your end but, it feels so good to just kiss him again. Chris does try to bring some order into your uncoordinated liplock, guiding your mouth against his while his hands rest on your hips.

Sex wasn't on your mind before you walked through the front door but, now? Grinding down on the hardness you can feel starting to form under you while you explore Chris's mouth? Desire twists like a knife in the pit of your stomach. Your clit throbbing with every clumsy brush against his lap and your walls starting to clench and unclench almost painfully. It's probably some record how quickly your panties become a mess while you hump against Chris for dear life.

“Off please,” you breathe once the two of you separate to catch your respective breaths. Saliva smeared across both of your mouths and you would dive back in if you weren't so focused on getting his shirt off. Luckily for you, Chris is just as impatient as you are so he tugs it off within seconds. Tossing it to be forgotten on your living room floor.

You can't help the moan that bubbles out of you at the sight of his bare chest. You've seen it thousands of times and it still never fails to turn your blood molten. Palming as much of him as your hands can, you litter his neck with kisses and nips. Whimpering into his skin when his hands drift from your hips to grab and knead your ass over your work skirt. His hips shallowly thrusting up into you. Fuck, you're already so tightly wound.

A startled noise leaves Chris when you (gently) shove him onto his back but, he doesn't complain otherwise. Just watches you with a mixture of want and curiosity through his curly hair. His eyes widen when you eventually shuffle up his body until you're hovering over his beautiful face. A shudder runs through you when his tongue darts out to lick his full lips before his dark eyes meet your own again.

You're too desperate to care about getting undressed so, you hurriedly shove your panties to the side before easing yourself onto his face. The first touch his mouth against your drenched, puffy folds sends you reeling. You grab the back of the couch in an attempt to steady yourself but, Chris doesn't give you a chance. Lapping and sucking at you with so much intensity from the get go that you can already feel your thighs starting to quiver.

“Ah, Daddy,” you whimper when he decides to focus all of his attention and energy on your clit. “Fuck, oh my god,” comes your broken moan when he attaches himself to it. Licking and drawing patterns into that you couldn't hope to decipher at the moment when it feels like you're able to break into a million, little pieces soon. It's all so lewd and obscene and hot. The wet sounds of him eating you coupled with your wanton noises of pleasure seeming to echo throughout your entire apartment.

Your hips move on their own accord. Using his unfairly gifted mouth and cute nose to get yourself off. You're practically riding his face at this point and, based on the moans Chris presses into you, he's enjoying this just as much as you are. You know if he had it his way, he'd be using his hands to shove you even further into his face but, he's happy to lay there and let you use him until you're satisfied.

Which doesn't take all that long. Usually, you're pretty good at being able to tell when you're about to orgasm but, this time it catches you completely off-guard. A jumbled mess of ‘Daddy’ and ‘Chris’ fall from your lips as your body convulses. Your fingernails dig into the couch so fiercely that for a fleeting moment you're worried you might have ruined it.

Chris doesn't allow your mind to wonder for too long, though. Licking your gushing wetness like it's the first bit of liquid he's had in days while his nose brushes your throbbing clit. Your thighs shake and tightening around his head as the familiar burn of overstimulation starts to settle in the apex of your thighs and creep to your extremities.

“Da–Daddy,” you choke out, winding your hand into his hair and tugging his mouth away from you, “To–Too much,” you finish with a great deal of effort. Using all of your strength to move off of him until you're hovering over him. Your respective, unsteady breathing all that can be heard.

Cracking an eye open to look at him is a grave mistake. Between his wild eyes, unruly hair, flushed cheeks and full, bruised lips covered in you, you never stood a chance. And the sporadic clenching and unclenching of your still not filled pussy helps make that abundantly clear.

Chris watches you while you shift down his body. Air catching in his lungs when your hands reach for the waistband of his sweats and impatiently tug them down. He's so hard and a teasing dribble of pre-cum leaks from his tip that you can't help yourself from bending down and licking it.

“Fu–Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, throwing his head back while his hands clench and unclench at his sides. Cute. His hips just barely jerk up in search of more relief from your mouth but, you don't give him the satisfaction. You have other plans in mind.

Grabbing his thick cock, you guide it to your dripping entrance. Just barely able to keep your eyes open to watch him as you sink down onto him. You lose that battle very quickly. Your eyes fluttering shut with every inch of him you sink down on until he's fully inside of you. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You can already feel tears building up at the corners of your eyes just at the sheer fullness you feel right now.

“–so tight. Such a good girl. Always so fucking good,” Chris's words bring you back down for a moment and you blink your bleary eyes open to look at him. Your walls clamp down on him harshly when the sight of your sweaty, flushed boyfriend greets you. That's all the prompting you need to start a brutal pace. His cock just opens you up so deliciously that you can't help but bounce on it. The sounds of your skin hitting his and the filthy squelching between your thighs nearly drowning out your shared noises of pleasure.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you chant, impatiently tugging open your work shirt and shoving down your bra until your breasts are finally free. Chris's eyes burn as they watch you palm your tits and tug on your nipples until you're just barely able to focus on fucking yourself stupid on him. “I feel so good, Daddy. Your cock makes me feel so full,” you whimper after an especially harsh twist of your nipples.

“Yeah?” He pants out, his dark locks starting to stick to his sweaty forehead while his eyes struggle to pick between looking at your beautiful face, your hands toying with yourself or his cock disappearing inside of your scorching pussy. “Does my princess like using Daddy to get herself off, hmm? Does it feel good to fuck yourself on Daddy's cock while he just lies here? Tell me, baby.”

“Y-Yes, so good, Daddy. Your cock feels ah fuck so amazing, Daddy. You feel so good, Daddy.” You whine, one of your hands snaking its way between your thighs to rub against your swollen clit. A fractured moan bubbling out of your throat while you rub frantic circles against yourself and try to maintain the pace you set on Chris's cock.

“That's good. You look so pretty using me to get yourself off, sweetheart,” he coos, giving you a smile so soft that you can feel your heart grow in your chest while your release grows closer and closer. “Are you going to cum, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock, beautiful? Hmm? I want you to. Wanna see you cum so badly. Wanna feel you make a mess all over me.”

And just like that you feel your entire body seize. You're not even aware of what's coming out of your mouth right now but, you can't bring yourself to care. Your vision blurs at the edges while your entire body shudders. It takes every ounce of you not to completely collapse ontop of him while you ride out the waves that keep crashing into your limp body.

“–my girl,” is all you hear in the distance before you feel his large hands grab your hips and something warm filling your spasming walls. Opening your eyes with a great deal of effort, you're greeted with the sight of a panting, fucked out Chris. His cock pulsing inside of you with every rope of cum that shoots out of it. That does eventually prompt you to collapse onto his sturdy chest. Nuzzling into his neck while your shared releases start to leak out of you.

“Feel better?” He asks, rubbing your back soothingly while pressing featherlight kisses against your forehead.

“Yes, thank you. I love you,” you mutter tiredly into his skin, pressing yourself as close to him as you can.

“I love you too, baby,” are the last words you hear before succumbing to the fatigue that's been calling you all day.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

[visforvengeance]

944 miles

Requested by: no one<3

Notes: Hi! So sorry I took so long to post this lmao. Um this will be a series. I haven't worked out how many chapters there will be but I do know how I want at least the next two chapters to be. If you've seen my last post where I posted a snippet of it, then you know I had an OC named Rue Winston. That will be changed and the only thing that will remain is the last name and no character description will be involved but do know I had black!reader in mind. Thanks for reading <3

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x Reader

Warnings: cursing? she/her pronouns. i think that's it. it's only the first chapter so nothing too crazy going on.

masterpost

Fatima rushed to the Berzatto Family Salon door with her young daughter by her side. Fatima wouldn’t have been late if it weren’t for her babysitter canceling at the last minute. The poor child was just too young to care for herself. 

As Fatima frantically searched around the building for Donna, her hairstylist, Y/N sat idly by. She played with the toys her mother had gotten her for her 5th birthday, which was just a few months before. When Fatima’s eyes landed on Donna’s, they reflected a range of emotions. 

Donna felt bad for the young mother, having three kids of her own, she knew what Fatima was suffering. Donna’s eyes traveled to the playing toddler on her floor, not a care for the outside world. She reminded her of her own child, Carmen, the youngest. 

“Donna! I’m so sorry I’m late. My babysitter bailed last minute and I had no one else to watch her,” Fatima was on the verge of tears. This wasn’t the future she imagined when she found out she was with child. 

Her husband, Ezra, had walked out on his family when their daughter was 2 years old. He had claimed he never wanted a child in the first place. 

“Ok ok ok, Hun. Just take a deep breath, it’s fine. I have a son who’s around the same age as her. He’s here with me today, they could play together!”

She rushed through the door, ignoring everyone except for Carmen. He sat on his bed watching his best friend bounce around in his bedroom. 

“It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!” She squealed while clutching the unopened envelope to her chest. 

Carmen was dreading the day when they received their acceptance letters. He hadn’t told her that his college of choice was in New York. He knew that she’d d be attending college in Chicago, but fucking Carmen. He always had to strive for the best. 

He felt like shit, but the pure excitement on her face was infectious. He couldn’t help his smile as they switched envelopes, now holding each other’s futures in their hands. 

“I’ll go first, you ready?” He watched as she bit at her nails anxiously, she nodded. 

Carmen opened the letter, he spared one glance at her before he began reading. 

“Dear Ms. Winston, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as an official student of the English Literature and Arts Department…” Rue’s hearing had faded as she allowed the words to process. 

When it finally hit her, she rushed into Carmen’s arms. Her tears soaked into the cotton of his shirt but he didn’t let that deter him from telling her just how proud he was of her. When they pulled away, he held her face in his hands as she took deep breaths to calm herself down. He looked into her eyes, silently asking if she was okay. She nodded, looking back into his blue ones. 

Y/N carefully tore into the letter, her eyes scanning over the paper. The Institute of Culinary Education, 225 Liberty Street, 3rd Floor, New York, NY 10281. New York? No, this can’t be. He’d tell her if he was going to New York, right?

She cleared her throat and began reading, “Dear Mr. Berzatto, we are very pleased to offer you admission into The Institute of Culinary Arts.” Her throat ran dry as she read. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you tell me you applied for New York?”

“You’re the one who told me not to tell you,” he huffed, suddenly feeling defensive at his lack of mentioning. 

“It’s fucking New York, Carmen! I meant don’t fucking tell me if it was in the goddamn state. I thought that was obvious. Why there, anyway?”

He felt strings tugging at his heart as her voice cracked. Why did he choose New York? A 944-mile drive away from his home? His family? From the girl he loved? When making his decision, She was the last thing on his mind at the time. Mikey not allowing him to work at the family restaurant fucked with Carmen’s nerves. 

Lack of communication led to him believing that his brother thought he wasn’t good enough. So, Carmen figured “Maybe if I go to this prestigious school and become the world’s greatest chef, he’ll think I’m good enough then.” 15-year-old Carmen had made up his mind, everything else be damned. But, nothing would prepare him for the moment it came time to tell his best friend that he was leaving her. 

“It’s the best culinary school in the state,” her eyes began to water. She felt fucking elated that Carmen was getting into the school of his dreams, but it being 14 hours away was breaking her heart. She didn’t want to make him feel bad or ruin this moment, but the way she could feel herself start to sweat was overwhelming. 

She decided to drop it. She didn’t want Carmen to feel bad about his decision. Willing her tears to dry, she quickly smiled. “I’m so proud of you,” She was genuinely so proud of Carmen. She wanted nothing more than for him to succeed. If his succeeding meant she had to cheer him on from Chicago, she’d do it proudly. 

Carmen could feel the sadness radiating off of her. He knew what she was doing. The switch from being on the verge of tears to smiling brightly was a reaction he’d seen far more than he liked. Being the reason wasn’t something he liked too much, either. But, when she said that she was proud of him, he believed her. He always believed her. 

The last few days of school had been so tiring with graduation and Carmen leaving for NYC soon. She and Carmen spent as much time with each other as they could. Fatima worked a lot and Donna always had something that needed her attention. Everyone was busy. Summertime was approaching which meant Mikey had to prepare. He’s still not letting Carmen help, though. 

She sighed as she felt her back hit the mattress beneath her. She hadn’t had time to relax and take a deep breath until now. She was home alone, with no plans and a severe and excruciating lack of Carmen. She saw less of him after the pair read their acceptance letters together. She didn’t know whether it was because of the news he shared or he was just extremely busy. 

Regardless of whether they were fighting or not, Carmen never avoided her. There was no reason for him to be mad at her and she wasn’t particularly mad at him, but there was a dark cloud that hung over them. An unwavering force that bullied its way between them, you could practically see it. 

She wanted to be happy for him, but the negative feelings always crawled their way back up. Was she overreacting? This wasn’t the end of them. They could always call, visit each other, or text. It wasn’t like he was moving to another country. 

He was leaving her today. She began to panic at the thought but forced herself through it. She gathered all of the items she wanted to give to him before he left. His favorite shirt that he’s always searching for (she stole it), the matching bracelet that he’d leave on her dresser so he wouldn’t lose it, and a painting that she made for them. The painting was of them together. She spent the entire school year working on it, she made it for him after he practically begged her to do a painting for him. 

After she was done, she made her way next door. The constant ruckus could be heard outside of the door. Donna is yelling for Mikey to help his brother, Sugar and Richie are fighting over god knows what. She pushed herself through the door. It was warm inside, and it smelled like apple pie and cinnamon. It always smelled like something delicious at the Berzatto house. 

Donna noticed her first, rushing to her while calling for Mikey to come and grab the (not heavy) box from her. Donna pulled the younger girl into her warm embrace, bombarding her with questions as she always did. It never bothered her as she knew what Donna was like and loved her dearly. Donna always treated her as if she was her child, she’d look after her when Fatima was busy with work. She’d invite her on family trips, she was an unofficial family member like Richie. 

“How are you, sweetheart? You hungry? We made a little something for Bear before it’s time for him to go,” Donna held her face in her hands as she spoke. Her heart warmed at Donna’s actions. Despite her doing things like this since the moment they met, it always made her smile. She politely declined, though. She wanted to be alone with Carmen for a while. 

“I’m not hungry at the moment, Mama D, but I promise I’ll eat before I go,” Donna nodded and gave her cheeks a small pat. They spoke a little bit more before Donna left her to continue doing what she was doing. She had a habit of minimizing her emotions when something big happened. She kept a straight as she walked up the stairs to Carmen’s room, but her mind was racing. She didn’t want to think about the bad things that could happen while she and Carmen were apart. 

She pushed the door open, standing in the doorway as she watched the two brothers talk. “Dude, you’re doing it the wrong way-“

“I think I know how to properly tape up a box, Carmen.”

“You’re literally doing it wrong.”

She couldn't hold in her laughter as they bickered back and forth. Their heads snapped toward her, startled by her presence. “Jesus, fuck, bunny. You scared the shit out of me!” Mikey set down the box he was holding to rush over and hug her. She hugged him back, squeezing him a bit as she did so. “Sorry, Mikey. I wanted to see who’d get hit first,” Mikey chuckled. 

She and Mikey had a special kind of bond. She had a unique bond with each Berzatto child. But, the two of them were like siblings. Mikey was like the big brother she never had, always to her rescue if needed. When Carmen couldn’t be bothered, she had Mikey and Sugar. 

Before he could respond, Carmen cleared his throat. Mikey looked between the two, gears turning in his head. You see, Michael knew of his feelings for the girl. He was constantly trying to get Carmen to step up and admit his feelings for the girl but Carmy was always too nervous to do so, afraid he’d lose her. He couldn’t risk that. 

Mikey nodded, raising his arms in defense and he backed off, “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She sat on Carmen’s bed, looking around his room. It looked nearly empty, aside from the furniture. “Did you get a chance to look at the things I brought?” Carmen looked over everything except for the painting. He’d seen her art before, he knew how talented she was. But he feared that if he looked at it now, his heart would break all over again. 

“Yeah, everything except for the painting.” She felt her body twitch as their eyes locked. His expression was unreadable as she wondered why he hadn’t taken a glance. “Promise you’ll take a peek when you get to your dorm?” She thought she sounded fucking pathetic. ‘Please look at this painting that means so fucking much to me, it’s the least you could do.’ She wanted to throw up. 

In reality, Carmen didn’t want to look. Not because he feared he’d hate it, but because then he’d be forced back to reality. The reality that he’s in love with his best friend whom he’s about to leave for four fucking years. The reality is that he’s loved her since middle school and now it’s too late because he’s a coward. “Promise.”

She and Carmen had spent their last few hours together in his bed. The sun had fallen, and everything was packed up and ready to go. Carmen said his goodbyes to everyone, except her. She lingered somewhere nearby, watching as he hugged and kissed his family. They were both trying to prolong their last few moments together. “I’m gonna miss you,” she could hardly speak. God, did she not want to cry right now. 

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Carmen’s facade was starting to crack. He allowed it to, he only allowed himself to feel in front of her. “And don’t forget about me, either.” Her tears were streaming down her face, heavy drops landing on her shirt. Carmen couldn’t handle it anymore as he pulled her into a tight hug. Their tears soaked into the other’s shirt as they cried together. They stayed like that for what felt like hours until Mikey called for Carmen. She watched as her best friend drove away. She’d never believe you if you told her that she wouldn’t hear from him for 2 years.

[karlachismylife]

I woke up (was sleeping cuz I spent the night crying over fucking higher math, might go back to sleep for a little bit more cuz I don't wanna face the world and am still tired) and saw that my Russian words post was reblogged by a bunch more people I respect and look up to (that also happened in one previous wave of popularity that post gained a day or two ago). And like, first of all, I am intimidated by being perceived by people so way out of my league. Second, this definitely shows that there's a writing circle in this fandom of very talented writers and it's not that big. And while my ego definitely wants to somehow worm my way into that circle to be with the cool kids, I very much understand what a chasm separates my writing and their writing, so it makes me feel self-conscious about it again. Especially because I spent last days writing absolute silliness and all these people manage to write incredibly gripping, emotional and deep things. Like very psychological and smart and clever. And finally, I am a little scared to be seen on that scale and by some of those people, because they are so opinionated + well-spoken + have quite clear standpoints. And I am scared to be seen with my potentially problematic/bad/shallow character interpretations and very shallow texts. Cuz I won't be able to back it up substantially, won't be able to defend why I don't write deep enough/why I don't put in more effort/why I mischaracterize the characters so much. What if I actually wrote something problematic. I never intended to, but I might have just done not enough research and self-education. Or something. I don't know.

Obviously I am not actually visible on that scale, it's just one post with writing aid, none of my works reached those people. But what if. I am not smart, and I am immature, and I don't really have anything meaningful to offer. I am usually fine with this, like, I do believe there are also needed stories about raccoons being befriended through the power of cartoons and apple slices, or short fluff pieces with no plot other than two people loving each other and kissing. I am usually pretty comfortable in this niche.

But right now I just got such a strong wave if anxiety. And I know this is just a corner of the internet where no one even could name my full name and I have no chances of meeting any of you irl. But this is a place I want to belong to. I wanna be in the fandom, and I wanna be someone people know as, well, maybe the hyena CEO, or maybe as the fluff gorilla, or - my dream - as Karlach x Soap weirdo. Like. I wanna share what I have with people and be accepted. I feel so very grateful every time I get the feeling of being accepted from notifications, or messages, or asks, or anything. When people show interest and enjoy my things. I am anxious to lose it in case I turn out to be not good enough (which is the motto of my life). I'm pretty chill about being not good enough for many things, it's just facts and well, that's just me. But when it's about something I really really wanna be a part of, like the community here, this scares me, because this failure will hurt like a hundred others didn't.

I'm sorry for ranting, I might delete this later, I see the new asks guys and I will be trying to write something today, I just woke up and I'm a mess and it's not a real problem but it just made me cry for a moment. I'm okay, I'll be fine, I know I'm here to just enjoy myself and hope other people will too, so I'm not like going into hiding or anything. Just needed to say this, cuz whenever there's "fandom discourse" I am so scared I'm actually part of whatever problem people are discussing. And stuff. Yeah gonna go have a cup of tea and sleep a bit or at least lie down. I'm sweaty, temperature regulation is not a thing my body is good at, lmao.

Love you all so much, eternally grateful for all the love and attention I receive from you comrades. It feels incredible, today is just an anxious day.

[yes-divine-ruler]

can I pls equest something smutty abt kai anderson, abt him and the reader being in an abusive relationship before he gets arrested and when he sneaks out of jail he comes to visit her and punishes her for not staying faithful whilst he was away (rough elements). This is buzzcut kai anderson btw (ikyk 😙). Fem reader as well pls. The reader is also a former cult member but she was being held hostage so she doesn't go to jail.

I love your account you're acc the best, how do you stay so motivated to write lmao 😭

Escaped Prison!Kai Anderson x Fem!Reader Smut - “Vengeance” (18+)

This goes with another request that was very similar!!

Can we get a smutty dark Fic with Kai where the reader is his girlfriend or ex girlfriend (always tried to escape their toxic relationship) and she had something to do with him going to prison. When he gets out he comes to get her from where she is hiding. And he is MAD MAD at her?

I am putting this one in the super kinky category, with extra angry hurt just escaped prison Kai

CW: oral (k receiving), fingering, rimming, unprotected penetrative sex, mentions of carving and guns, bit of physical violence

Words: 2609

You couldn't bear to visit your Divine Ruler in prison. Something about seeing him chained on the other side of indestructible glass would make him seem weak to you, and that wasn't the leader you knew. He'd been in prison for almost two years, and almost every week you'd get a phone call from Robert Gordon Correctional Facility, that you’d hang up on. Guilt ate you from the inside out, but you were more fearful than anything. Fearful that he knew that you, his most loyal follower, right hand woman and the person who got the brunt of most of his abuse, was the person who turned him in.

Today started just like any other in your small flat just outside Jackson, Michigan. You’d separated from the cult after the eventual capture of your leader, the rest of the men and women dispersing and integrating back into society like you did. You worked a normal nine-to-five job now, and spent your weekends on the sofa with your pet cat, mindlessly flicking through shows to watch on TV. But as night approached, something changed. You felt your stomach drop and your heart pick up pace when the news announced that America’s most dangerous cult leader and serial murderer had escaped prison.

He’d called your landline so many times you knew he had his ways of finding out where you lived. The thought alone made you swallow loudly, and your palms began to sweat.

You decided you’d distract yourself, picking your cat up and taking her outside for a moment to feed her dinner. You lit a cigarette between your lips and inhaled deeply. For the last two years you had resulted to smoking to help ease your stress, a bad habit your Divine Ruler had always frowned upon.

Bright headlights illuminated your back fence as you stood on your porch, and you squinted over it to see what it might be. A shadowy figure departed from a car, and it pulled away from your driveway and sped down the street.

It couldn’t be him? Could it?

You put out your cigarette by stepping on it, and picked your cat up again to bring her inside despite her wailing protests, locking the back door securely behind you. It was only a moment after you’d gone inside that three loud, sharp knocks echoed in from your front door.

You froze in place, holding your cat close to your chest as you listened again to see if the person outside would knock again. There wasn’t anymore knocks, and your front blinds were closed so there was no way you could see out, or they could see in to see if anyone was home.

You set your cat down on the floor, and padded softly over to the front door, looking out the eye hole and onto the street. You had to cover your mouth with your hand to stop a loud gasp from escaping your lips.

It was him. He found you.

Three more knocks sounded through your ears, and scared tears welled in your eyes. What could you possibly do? You had to pretend you weren’t home. Almost as if he knew you’d run with that plan, he began to shout from outside.

“I know you’re in there Y/N, open up, I just want to talk,” you watched him smile menacingly at the eye hole, and it sent a cold shiver up your spine.

You panicked, not knowing what to do, whether you should open the door or continue to ignore him.

“Come on baby, I won’t hurt you,” his voice sounded sincere, but you knew he was emotionally manipulative, a con artist even to you, in your many years of being together. It took for him to be locked away and seeing a therapist every month for you to realise that.

“Y/N! Open the fucking door before I knock it down,” he was beginning to get impatient, his loud insistent knocking scaring not only you, but your cat as she ran to hide under your dining table.

“Okay, you’ve made me do this,” he chuckles darkly, and that’s when you make the split decision to unlock the door and open it.

Kai Anderson stood in front of you with his lip split and his long blue hair shaved, leaving him in a buzz cut. He wore a correctional officer’s uniform, and as you stared at him in horror, he stared right back at you in satisfaction.

“Are you going to let me in?” He said coolly, as you hesitantly held the door open for him to come inside. He stepped passed you, making sure to nudge you with his shoulder, before he began turning lights on around your flat.

“What do you want, Kai?” You ask shakily, as he drops his correctional officer hat on your dining table, peeking under the table at your cat. You held your breath as he crouched down and reached out for her, scared he might hurt her to avenge you, but he only pat her softly on the nose.

“I wanted to see you baby, it’s been two years. Why haven’t you answered my calls? Didn’t you miss me?” His fake sad tone sent another cold shiver through your body, as he eventually stood up again to make his way over to you, the heavy boots on his feet thumping against the wooden floor.

“I-” you didn’t know what to say, as he stood inches away from you, his hand rising to tuck his thumb and finger under your chin. His touch made you flinch, and he let out a small noise as he noticed.

“You’re not scared of me are you? What do you need to be scared for?” He taunted, bringing his face so close to yours you could feel his lips ghost over the skin above your lip.

“Kai I don’t understand, how are you here?” It felt like years of therapy and growth came crashing down as you looked into his dark eyes, searching for the love he once gave you.

“I broke out baby, needed to make sure you were okay,” he lied, his thumb running over your bottom lip as they both parted from his soft, affectionate touch.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you Kai,” tears fell down your face as you shared this intimate moment with him, and he only smiled softly at you in response.

“It’s okay, I understand why you didn’t,” he said, now with the back of his hand softly caressing the skin of your cheek.

“Really?” You ask just above a whisper, leaning in closer at the off chance he’d connect his lips to yours.

“Yes, because you knew I’d fucking kill you for ratting me in.”

His hand came up to your throat, tightly grasping around it as he pushed you back against your living room wall. Your eyes widened in shock, the reality of your situation settling in as his grip only got tighter.

“You fucking bitch, I gave you all of me, I gave you a place to stay and this is how you repay me,” he spat in your face, as you let out a cry.

“Please- Kai- I didn’t-” you choke out before he cuts you off.

“Don’t even try to lie to me right now,” he reaches into the waistband of his pants, where you realised he was hiding a gun holster, and pulled out a handgun. A scream left your mouth, before he jammed the gun inside it, stopping you from making any more noise.

“I could just pull the trigger right now,” he seethed; his face close to yours as he cocked the gun as it lay against your tongue. You shook your head as he smiled at you deviously, your eyes red from the continuous stream of tears that soaked your horrified face.

“But I won’t,” he said, pulling the gun out of your mouth and letting it fall limply in his hand at his side, “because I have other plans for you right now.”

Kai leaned forward and smashed his lips against yours before you could take a breath, moving with body to press up against yours on the wall. His hands wondered the sides of your body, and although he’d held a gun to your mouth and threatened to kill you, you still kissed him back. Kai Anderson was like a drug addiction that you’d gotten over and now that you’d gotten a small hit, you craved the whole rush again.

Your arms flew up to wrap around his neck as he tilted his head, his tongue evading your mouth and massaging yours. You moaned softly as he pulled your hands away from him without breaking the kiss and holding your wrists above your head, stopping you from touching him. His lips left yours to suck and bite at the skin of your neck, small whimpers escaping your lips as bruises started to arise on your body.

“Fuck, you’re just as fucked up as I remember,” he said into your neck, “what a dirty fucking whore, did the gun in your mouth turn you on?”

His hands left yours to rip at the front of your shirt, tearing it down the middle and pulling it off your body. You gasped as your bare breasts bounced from the hard pull, Kai greedily staring at them before taking a nipple in his mouth. He bit down on it, causing a short sharp scream to leave your mouth, before he sucked on it again harshly. The pain was overrode with the pure bliss of having your breasts paid attention to, something that you didn’t get often after Kai went away.

His fingers targeting your shorts and wet panties next, pulling them harshly down your legs and discarding them somewhere in the room. He took a step back to admire you, naked and afraid in front of him, not sure of what he had planned next for you.

“Has anyone else seen you like this?” Kai was the first person you’d ever been intimate with, and he knew if someone else had, it had to be while he was in prison. The question caught you off guard, knowing that yes you did have sex with other people while he was locked away, but you didn’t want to reveal that to him.

“Even with my name carved into you?” He was getting more angry by the second, his eyes averting to the faded scar on your right thigh.

“Kai- please-” you knew he already knew the answer, deciding not to respond with the truth. He didn’t like that, his hand coming up to your cheek and laying a harsh slap across your face. You cried out as you slid down the wall onto the floor, holding onto your now sore reddened skin.

“You fucking little slut,” he spat, pulling on your hair and getting you to sit on your knees. You let out another cry as he held you by your hair, using his other hand to unzip his pants and pull them down.

“Suck it, before I lose my fucking shit Y/N,” he rubbed his tip against your closed lips, before you parted them, your mouth now filled to your throat with his hard cock.

His hand stayed tangled in your hair as he push and pulled your mouth back and forth on his erection, screwing his eyes shut from the feeling of your warm and wet mouth. You subdued a gag, knowing that would only fuel his desire to punish you for everything that you’d done.

“Feels so good,” he mumbled, fucking your throat as you look up to admire his pleasured face. Your hand came up to cup his balls and he froze underneath you, watching as you fondled them in your fingers. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, and that’s when he pulled your head away.

“Dining table, now,” he demanded, standing still as he watched you pick yourself up and lean forwards across the dining table. You were worried that your cat was still underneath but as if Kai read your mind he let out a chuckle.

“The cat is long gone, ran off down the hall,” he muttered, your body relaxing knowing she was safe.

Kai crouched down behind your bent over body, admiring the arousal that dripped from your needy pussy.

“So wet for me already,” he cooed, his finger coming up to run back and forth between your slicked folds. You let out a small whine as his finger entered you, and his thumb brushed against your clit.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” He marvelled, pumping his finger in and out of you before adding another. Your back arched at the pleasurable sensation of Kai’s long fingers curling up inside you and hitting your g spot. Small pathetic moans left your lips as he continued his assault within your walls, humming to himself as he felt you clench around him in hunger.

“Answer me,” he said suddenly, laying a hard slap down on your ass cheek causing you to jump.

“Yes Kai, please,” you beg, resting your forehead against the table as his thumb began to rub harder against your throbbing clit.

“Please what?” He taunted, his fingers working faster inside you as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to untie.

“Please fuck me Kai! I need your cock!” You almost scream, desperate to feel your release. Kai tutted behind you, pulling out his fingers just when you needed him to finish you off. You let out a whine in disappointment, before it was overruled by Kai’s cock sliding into you. He gripped onto your hips, steadying himself back on his feet as he began to pound into you against the table. Your hands reached for something to grab on to as he spread your ass cheeks to watch himself move in and out of you. His thumb, wet with his saliva, circled your second hole, a feeling you hadn’t had in so long. Kai knew what you enjoyed and how to please your body just as well as he knew how to break you.

“You don’t cum before I do, you hear me?” He grunted, his thrusts picking up in pace as he threw his head back at the feeling of being inside you.

“Yes Kai,” you respond obediently, holding in your own orgasm as his cock rubs against your g spot the way his fingers did prior.

“Good girl.”

He thrusts slowed, before they picked up again, savouring the feeling of your pussy greedily clenching around him before he felt close to his own release.

“Im gonna cum all inside your fucking cunt,” he groaned, letting out a final moan as he spurt warm strings of cum inside you. Without his permission, you didn’t know if you could cum, whimpering as he rode out his orgasm.

“Cum,” he announced, still pumping inside you as you cum around him.

Your legs shake as you try to keep yourself standing, not daring to look at Kai as he pulls up his own pants.

“Now,” he says, leaning over you to whisper in your ear, “where were we?”

That’s when you felt the cold metal of the gun against the back of your head.

“How undignified, naked and filled with my cum, shot dead on your own floor,” his other hand came to hold onto the gun, as he cocked it again against your head. The pleasure you’d just felt disappeared from your mind, as you squeezed your eyes shut, ready to meet with your end.

“FBI! Open up!”

[hanniejji]

bottle of memories

[ father!diluc ragnvindr x child!reader ]

summary: diluc brings you a bottle of memories shared between him and your mother.

notes: a very late weinlesefest fic oof, and a rare fluffy phoenix scenario lmao | m.list

words: 1258 | warnings: unedited lol wrote this as work

"y/n?"

you teared your eyes away from your book, meeting diluc's eyes from the door to your room. gently, you set your quil aside.

"yes, dad?"

"are you," his voice trails off at the end, eyes not able to meet your confused gaze as he turns his head to look at the side.

this is so unlike him, you thought.

"is there something wrong?"

"are you busy today?"

"eh?" you quirk an eyebrow in confusion.

why is he asking me this when he's supposed to be the busy one between us? you pondered, watching him cough behind his hand out of bashfulness. i thought, as the winery, he's supposed to be busy at the weinlesefest?

wait, is this because of me?

your eyebrows pinched together in concern.

"i'm free for the rest of the day, dad," you push yourself up from your study table, approaching his form at the door, "is there something you want to tell me?"

"yes, i—" diluc pauses, releasing a deep sigh and shaking his head.

"seriously," you whined, irritated at the way he's drawing the conversation, "just tell me what it is. you're scaring me."

"apologies, it's nothing bad really," chuckling, diluc smiles at your annoyed look.

there's a weird sense of comfort that he gets whenever you express yourself without hesitating, like you used to a few years ago. a visible evidence of having fixed the misunderstandings between the two of you. you're not as reserved as you used to be. slowly, you started to act more like… yourself, in front of him.

and he couldn't ask for anything more better than your comfort.

"would you like to join me for the day?"

"what about the weinlesefest?" you quirk your head, "isn't the tavern going to be crowded with people for the whole week? not to mention—" a finger slightly scratched your chin in thought, "you're releasing a new mix specially made for the festival and you're opening a stall in springvale today."

diluc watches you ponder in amusement, "and?"

"what do you mean 'and'?" your hands rest on your waist in an act of sterness, before a loud gasp escapes you.

"what?"

"i cannot believe you're ditching your work!" you point an accusing finger at diluc, "you have piles of paper in your desk—no, don't deny it, i was the one who delivered those papers! and you're setting aside all of those!? who are you and what have you done to my dad!?"

diluc couldn't stop himself from grinning at the way you're scolding him, shaking his head at your accusations before sighing a little dramatic, feigning offense. times when you act like this really reminds him of your mother.

"i can't believe my own child is accusing me of inefficiency, have i not done well in my previous endeavors?"

"don't gaslight me!"

"anyways," he clears his throat—ignoring your offended gasp, "nevertheless, of course i would choose to spend some time with my only child over my work. those can wait," he gingerly pats your head, "i have something more important to show you."

your voice gets caught in your throat, unable to form a comeback to his words. you are still not used to your own dad prioritizing you over anything else—he always has, just not in a… proper way, for the lack of better words—thus always rendering you speechless when he makes it known. have you received such treatment when you were younger, maybe you could've said something witty in response. just anything to turn the table against your sometimes menace of a father. instead, you're left looking like a fish out of its tank before choosing to pout as your last defense.

"you win this time."

"i always do," he smiles smugly at your defeated glare before turning to exit, "well then, shall we go? you did say you were free, did you not?"

"okay okay!"

diluc fondly watches you go about your room, grumbling about the 'inconvenience' he had brought upon last minute. something that your mother used to do when she was still alive.

"ready, dear?"

you perk up, jacket thrown over your shoulders and standing alert—imitating that of a soldier.

"uh huh!"

you were, unfortunately, not as ready as you thought you were.

"this is…" your voice trailed off, confused eyes staring at the stone tablet in front of you, hands almost trembling when your head finally registered the name engraved into the stone.

here lies our beloved lady, wife, and mother.

lady ragnvindr.

you've never been to your mother's grave before.

the grass around it is properly trimmed, a few buds of dandelions growing behind the stone. reaching over to touch the engravings, the surface cold and smooth to the touch tells you that it's been taken care of very well. a paper bag was placed right beside the stone, someone's been here before you.

for reasons that are still not clear to you, your lips tremble and the back of your eyes starts stinging with the onslaught of tears.

"your mother used to dream of spending the weinlesefest together, just the three of us," diluc kneels beside your unmoving form, the smile on his face melancholic yet deep in his heart, he knows he has learned to accept the truth and the present. had he not done so, he wouldn't be able to gather the courage to take you to your mother's grave.

taking a deeper breath, he reaches for the paper bag right beside the stone and takes out its content—'it' being a bottle of unlabelled wine, the purple liquid inside sloshing as he passes the bottle to you.

wait, to you?

"what's this for?" you turn the bottle around in your hand. finding nothing written, you look up to diluc's soft eyes questioningly.

"you're mother and i made that in her second trimester," he chuckles at a memory, "she wanted to give you this despite my reasoning that you would be too young to drink it even if it's ready for consumption. alas," he sighs fondly, "she won the argument. as she always does," he turns to give you a teasing look, "you don't seem to inherit her victorious chain when it comes to arguments."

"rude," you huffed, sending him a glare before looking down at the bottle in your hand, "can i open it?"

"of course."

"can i… drink it?"

"dear, you're too young for that," he ruffles the top of your head affectionately, "maybe in a few more years, hm?"

"hmp, a shame," you uncapped the bottle, bringing the top to your nose and breathing in its strong scent. you scrunch your nose and backed away, "archons, that's old."

"it's as old as you are, dear."

"is it grapes and sunsettia?"

"indeed," he nods approvingly, "there's a few other fruits your mother had mixed in but it's mostly those two."

in a hushed voice, the two of you casually discussed the contents of the wine with diluc sharing your mother's thoughts on each fruit. it somehow felt comforting to spend time with your father in front of your mother's grave. it makes you feel as if you're spending time with her as well, the mental images of your mother that you've seen in pictures flashing in your head, imagining the sound of her voice and her gentle smile.

"can you tell me more about her?" resting against diluc's shoulder, you fiddle with the bottle's cap, staring right at your mother's name engraved on her grave.

diluc smiles at this, one arm over your shoulder.

"of course, my phoenix."

[coffeepurpleu]

On a Sweet Night, Be My Lucky Star (01)

Pairing : VampireTaehyung x WitchReader x DemonJungkook

Genre: Supernatural, Smut, Angst, a little of violence,Fluff (I'll try go with all lmao)

Serie: (still don't know how many longer will be, like chapters, but I'm going to make you enjoy it),about updates (there's will be not a specific day to update, *wink).

This will be my first fanfic here, English It's not my first language, so, if you have any suggestion I'll try it🏃🏻‍♀️.

Teaser (if you want to see it) CH02

"Darling, here's a present for you" I saw my grandmother with a small purple bag in her wrinkled hands.

"What is this grandma?" I asked looking at her curiously

"It's a quartz, it will protect you from everything bad" she replied.

I looked at the orange quartz sticking out of my grandmother's fingers, before I received it, everything went dark.

"Grandma?" I whispered looking for her.

I saw a dark shadow pointing at me, water was surrounding me.

I wake up shaken from sleep, looking around, looking for my phone to see the time, 5:55 A.M.

"Well Sunhee, time to start the day" I yawn to look at my dog sleeping comfortably in her bed.

I head towards the bathroom to shower, already dressed, I decide to eat breakfast on the way, I head downstairs grabbing my stuff stuff stuffing it in my bag. I grab my keys, open the door to find Jin. He is my best friend, he has a popular restaurant in town, human, I would say immortal because at 26 years old, he doesn't look that age.

"Jinnie, it's too early for you to open the restaurant, what brings you here?" I ask with an innocent tone.

"You know why I'm here, since lately you go to work without breakfast, I make you breakfast, Yah what a brat you are" he furrows his eyebrows a little.

"So considerate, thank you but I don't need it" I chuckle.

"Sure you do, remind you of the last time you were in the hospital? Besides my food is the best" He strikes a funny pose, where they both end up laughing.

"I'll still have my morning coffee," I say.

"Sure, your caffeine routine I won't take it away, then you get mad at penguin" he laughs squeezing my cheeks.

"Just because you're taller, doesn't give you the right to make fun of me, ugly" I run to my car before he chases after me.

"Who do you think you're talking to? and you can't leave without me" he climbs into the passenger seat, holding my breakfast steady in his hands.

"You started it!" I yell

"Don't you recognize a good joke? you're too sensitive" he rolls his eyes.

" Well, here I leave you, good luck today, I will come at 8, today I want sushi" I mention opening the door and getting out of the car to say goodbye to him.

"Again?, don't stress today, are they going to interview someone new?" he gets out of the car, arranging his clothes.

"Well you pick the food, yes, we need someone at the planning station" I sigh hugging him.

"Everything will be fine, today will be a great day" He pats me on the head before turning and opening the doors to his restaurant, I turn around to go to the company.

I enter the company walking slowly, receiving the good morning greetings from everyone there.

"Excuse me, boss."

I turn to see where the voice is coming from, it's from my receptionist, Lisa, an elf very good at her job.

"Do you need anything?" I ask her

"My mother just died,would you give me 3 days off?" she murmurs.

"Sure, be careful" I hug her before heading to the elevator.

As the elevator doors open, my secretary, Soyeon is revealed with some folders in her hands.

"There's already the new guy for the interview" she mentions bowing giving a smirk.

"Is there something funny I should know about?" I arch an eyebrow.

"It's nothing, it's just, the kid's a nervous wreck" she mutters.

"Oh come on, we were all like that for our first interview, I remember I kept fidgeting in my chair, and I couldn't find something to look at" I chuckle with embarrassment.  

"That must have been cute to see, and funny" We both burst out laughing. "Well, I'll go set up the meetings, you should go to your office, I'll send the boy over" She smiles before turning away.

I walk to my office, take a seat in the swivel chair, taking the folder on the table, I swivel in the chair for a while until there is a knock on the door.

"Come in" I say in a loud voice.

"Good morning, my name is Hoshi, I come for the interview" He mumbles with blushing cheeks.

"Have a seat, so you know what the position is about right?" I look at him intently which makes him shrink a little.

"Yes ma'am, I have been a scholarship holder from the best university in seoul, I would like to put my acquired knowledge into this job" He smiles shyly.

"Good, I will give you a week trial, show your skills" I stretch my hand which is taken by his, he smiles brightly before standing up and bowing.

"Thank you very much, you won't regret it" He leaves the office, with instructions to ask Soyeon for an induction.

I'm in the boardroom, surrounded by partners, we're brainstorming new ideas. 4pm and my eyes are going, a migraine is coming on.

"Well gentlemen, any suggestions you can send them with my assistant Soyeon or to my mail" I smile to go straight to my office, I throw myself on the couch to close my eyes.

"girl, it's 7:30, aren't you going to look for Jin?" I hear Soyeon say

"later, I'm sleepy" I mumble

"I have no other choice" She pulls me from the sofa making me fall on the floor.

"Ouch!" my eyes pop open, I stand up with a frown, wave my hand as a sign that I'm saying goodbye and go to the car.

I turn on the radio to listen to some news, the same old news, fighting over clans, for context.

A long time ago there were fights between different types of species, each with their life partner or destiny, nowadays, even though we live comfortably, there are some types of "clans" that refuse to believe that life partners of different species are not equal to the same (type, an elf with a troll to say something). But clarifying that, being a witch, I have learned to live without a companion, I have my best friend Jin.

"Where's my omma?" I ask getting out of the car walking into the restaurant. "Yah! You know you shouldn't talk like that" Jin mentions, I managed to dodge the incoming punch.

"Come on now! It's funny anyway, it's almost eight o'clock, are you closing up? Remember that tomorrow you will accompany me to Paris" I wink at him.

I usually focus on work although lately I've been tired, I'm CEO of 5 companies, I took 2 weeks off, since Jin's birthday is coming up, and I thought I'd treat us to a trip.

"Yeah, just let me lock up" He mentions taking off his apron, looking for the keys. At that, we hear the door open and see a gray wolf. "Jin?" I say, "What...?" he replies.

Before we can say anything the wolf falls to the ground, we approach him, we see his ribs sticking out with a bruise on top of them. I carefully move him with telekinesis to one of the nearest tables.

"My tablecloth-" Jin reproaches.

"I'll give you a new one, it needs to be healed" I glare at him.

I start to heal it with magic, the bruise was slowly disappearing, sounds of rain were coming from outside, we exchanged glances.

"Let's go before the weather gets worse" I look at Jin "But you're carrying him" he says.

We get in the car, I put on soft music, almost getting home we hear a growl behind us.

"Y/n I think he's awake" Jin whispers.

I look through the mirror to see the wolf's eyes analyzing both of us, I decide to speak as I look back to the road.

"I heal you, you must be hungry, surely there is something you can eat, jin will prepare something for us right?" i look at him.

"Sure, I could make bibimbap" he smiles slightly.

The wolf decides to lie down as soon as we get to the house. We get out of the car, as we enter I get sunhee jumping into my arms, the wolf snorts.

"I'll be in my room, let me know when the food is ready?" i say before yawning, releasing sunhee on the floor.

"Sure, and take a bath you smell nasty" Jin laughs.

"liar!" i go upstairs to lie down on the bed. I close my eyes, falling asleep, when I feel water being poured on me.

"Food is served downstairs!" i see jin running, i go after him. As I sit up, I see the wolf still being cutelicious, he's finished his meal.

"Everything ok? if you have nowhere to stay, you can stay with us, well, in my house, there are many rooms" I smile, he looks at me with astonishment after going to lie down on the sofa.

"Hey are you calling me poor?" Jin frowns.

"Of course not, otherwise I wouldn't put up with your ugly jokes "I grimace.

"Oh come on, you have no sense of humor, sourpuss" he mentions.

"Yes I do, right I do sunhee? come on let's go to sleep" I hold sunhee in my arms, bowing. "Rest"

"Well I'll go to sleep buddy, see you tomorrow" Jin mumbles.

With the lights off, the wolf turns into a man, he goes through rooms to take a bath, he found a library with a big purple armchair, plants adorning the ceiling, even though he still didn't trust them, he could rest well, just like before.

The next morning, the wolf fell asleep in the library, he had found some old clothes, so he put them on and went downstairs to make himself a cup of coffee. What he didn't expect was that Jin was in the kitchen.

"Y/NNNNNNNNNNNNN!" Jin yells out.

"Hey man calm down, I'm the wolf, my name is Namjoon" he bowed.

I walk down the stairs with the sheet wrapped around me.

"Why are you guys making noise so early in the morning" I complains

"Because he appears just like that" Jin mentions pointing Namjoon up and down.

"It's normal, I'm a hybrid" Nam shrugs, turning around to make himself a coffee.

"Well, we have to get used to it, we have to buy him clothes too" I walk over to Nam. "Let me have some coffee please, and Jin, it smells burnt"

"Go ahead, it's your house anyway" Nam takes his cup of coffee to sit at the table.

"My pancakes! Can't you use magic and redo them?" Jin complains.

"Oh come on! It should be for life and death situations" I mentions

"This is life or death! It's our food!" he shakes me.

"Well well, next time we can make dumplings" I wiggled my fingers making the pancakes perfectly cooked. We hear the light laughter coming from Nam.

My phone vibrates, it's Soyeon.

"Hey girl, how's it going? You know they have a flight today right?"she mentions. "Shit, I knew something had to be done, wait" I hang up quickly to turn around to see the guys.

"Well Nam, I scheduled a trip for me and Jin since his Birthday is coming up, it's today, but I don't know if you would be ok here alone, and Jin, would you agree for him to come?" I look at them waiting for an answer.

"For me, no problem" Jin looks at Nam.

"I don't know, I don't want to cause any trouble, besides isn't it your gift for him?" he purses his lips a little bit

"Yes, but you can also see it as an opportunity to buy clothes and have fun, then" I pat sunhee who is beside me.

"That's okay, I guess it'll be fun" he murmurs.

I call Soyeon to tell him to tell the driver that someone else is coming, then chat with Elizabeth, an old friend.

Crazy witch🐙: Hey bitch, are you there?

The Coolest👾 :Taking care of Sunhee? Why not Flor¿😯

Crazy witch🐙:Because I love you and you love me😁

The Coolest👾 : Well, leave her to Shiro😪

Crazy witch🐙:Are you still in the fashion show?👀

The Coolest👾 :Yes, Flor mentions if we can make a camping trip soon.����‍🌫️

Crazy witch🐙:Sure when I get back from Paris✈️

"Are you done yet?" Namjoon appears behind me.

"Man, take it easy, you scared me" I put one hand on my chest.

"I'm sorry, but Jin is already out with the bags, I've already bathed, I'm changed but you're missing" he smiles apologetically.

"Yes I'm coming, get in the driver's car when I arrive, I won't be late" I snort to go upstairs to take a cold bath, I decide to wear a jean skirt with a grey croptop with flowers on it and my boots. I walk over to the mirror I have, I hear a car beep.

"I'm coming!" I yell to grab my purse, I put on a knitted beret my grandmother made me, the quartz necklace, and my holographic earrings. I walk downstairs to see Mr. Lee greeting me.

"How are you Miss?" Between his light wrinkles I see a warm smile. "Ready for a break, how have you and your family been?" I ask tapping his shoulder.

"Very well, now come on upstairs it will be late" he opens the door for me.

"Girl, what took you so long?" Jin asked.

"Wait! Sunhee, god I almost forgot" I quickly get off to look for Sunhee and her things, I get back on next to her. "Mr. Lee, how much time do you pray you have? I have to leave sunhee with Elizabeth" I look at him.

He puts on a pair of dark glasses before saying "Hold on tight".

"Why leave her with that Elizabeth?" Nam asks.

"Because she is a friend we are like family, she is a demon, besides sunhee if I leave her alone at home she makes disasters, believe me, she has eaten the socket protectors, sometimes I feel like she is immortal" I sigh.

"She's mommy's baby" Jin speaks in a baby tone.

"Obvious" We all laugh

"Ready, here we are" Mr. Lee mentions.

"Thanks, I'll be right back" I get out of the car carrying sunhee.

Knock Knock

The door opens, a guy in pajamas gets out.

"Hey Y/N, long time no see" he greets

"Don't get excited Shiro, I talked to Elizabeth, she's going to do me the favor of watching Sunhee until I get back from paris" I hand him Sunhee's things, and her leash. "You know her schedule, good luck, and don't let her eat socks!" I turn around to run to the car, get in it.

"Ready, let's go" I smile. "I'm going to call my aunt Jessi to let her know, I haven't seen her in a while."

"You become an old lady when you talk to her" Jin laughs.

"Oh come on" Before I dial my aunt, an incoming call from my mom interrupts.

"Hi ma, how's your vacation going?" I ask her.

"Wonderful here in Jeju with Goonie" She says.

"Ugh, too much sugar ma, I'm going to Paris with Jin, and a new friend, I plan to stop by my aunt Jessi's house" She laughs a little bit

"New friend? Who is it?" she speaks in a mocking tone.

"Not like that! it's not my destiny, we've already talked about it" I mumble, watching Jin and Nam talk.

"I know, but I want to see you happy, and I want grandchildren" She speaks excitedly.

"Don't even think, I'm going to cut myself the-" she interrupts me.

"Watch your language, assface" We laugh.

"Here we are" I hear Mr. Lee

"See you later ma, kisses" I hang up to grab my stuff and look for the private jet, Nam's eyes widen like saucers. "I'm humble" We laugh lightly.

Getting on the plane, I almost fall to the ground. I hear the laughter behind me. "How rude not to help a lady" I pout, they look at each other and sit on the plane's couch, putting on seat belts.

"I brought cards" Jin says

"I don't remember the rules well. Namjoon scratches the back of his head.

"You ignore me? fine, I'll go to sleep, please wake me up when we arrive" I go to bed indignant.

"ONE!" shouts Jin

"Man, I'm bad at this" Namjoon sighs.

"It's lack of practice" Jin shrugs his shoulders.

"Fine, I'll show you how to play" I get up from the bed

"Weren't you sleeping?" Jin asks

"I couldn't, give me space". He gives me a space to sit between them. "Thank you."

After 4 rounds in a row, I won.

"NOOO, treacherous" Jin complains.

"I guess I'll win someday" Nam laughs.

"We have arrived at your destination" I hear the voice in the jet, as it slowly lands.

"Let's go!" I get up running excitedly.

"So fast" Nam asks.

I say goodbye to the jet driver to find the chauffeur who will drop us all off at my aunt's house.

"Bonjour, Madame" The chauffeur greets me.

"Bonjour! Take us to my aunt please" I smile, looking around the airport.

"With pleasure, Madame" Smiles the chauffeur.

After 15 minutes we arrive at the house. I knock on the door.

"Girl, long time no see" My aunt hugs me.

"Princess!" My uncle joins us in the hug.

The hug is undone, because my uncles go to greet Jin, Namjoon just looks, I signal him to come in, my uncles look at him.

" this is Namjoon, new friend" Nam bows with a shy smile.

"Welcome to the family, Namjoon" My uncle smiles.

"Thank you" Nam replies shyly

"Well, where is Haerin?" I ask.

"Well, she's coming soon, she said he has a surprise, I guess, do you want coffee?" my aunt asks.

"I do, you know I can't refuse coffee" I smiled.

"Could I make myself a tea?" Jin asked.

"Go ahead dear, I don't know why you don't want coffee" my aunt laughs.

"I do want some" Namjoon mentions.

"Let's settle them upstairs boy" . My uncle lifts my suitcase, Namjoon follows him with the other suitcases in his hands, they lose sight of each other on the stairs.

"So where are you coming from?" uncle asks.

"From the mountains, north side, it was just me and dad" Namjoon mumbles somewhat nostalgically.

"Oh boy, I'm sorry, but look here we always have room for more" tio slipped his arm behind Nam's neck to hug him. Let's go downstairs and then the fire gets cold.

The door opened revealing Haerin with her boyfriend Heechul, they were laughing, until Haerin saw me, she runs to hug me.

"You're choking me, help-" I move into his arms.

"Didn't you miss me? You don't call me" She says in a childish voice"

"Well you don't answer either" I frown.

"We're even" We laugh. "Mom!, Dad, I missed you" she comes over to hug them.

I see Jin with two cups in his hands, he walks over to me, then walks over to Nam to give it to us.

"You didn't pour anything in it, did you?" I ask holding back laughter.

"YAH! Aunt Choi say something to her!" Jin complains.

"You're all grown up kids, anyway, let Haerin tell the news" My aunt smiles, we all take a seat.

"Ready honey?" Haerin asks Heechul who nods. "We're getting married! and there's a surprise coming" this last she mumbles.

"What the-" My uncle turns pale.

"He's getting his blood pressure down" I say running into the living room.

"Congratulations daughter, you know how dramatic your father is" My aunt hugs them.

"Congratulations!" Jin says, elbowing Nam who is concentrating on drinking his coffee.

"Congratulations" Nam mentions

"Well, we should have a party before we go" My aunt mentions, handing a glass of water to my uncle.

"Leave?" asks Jin

"Yes, we are going on a trip" My aunt smiles.

"When?" I ask

"Tomorrow morning" manages to answer my uncle.

"Shall I order food?" asks Haerin

"I can get the drinks" I mention.

"I think there is a store near here" Heechul mentions.

"Well, anyone coming or?" Nam steps forward, we grab our coats to go.

»»————>»»————>»»————>»»————>

Word count: 3.1k

I was a bit sick 😭(I was anxious to upload it), but here it is at last, tell me what do you think, what changes or additions can I make?

my friend is helping me to organize ideas, because I have too many that I-

Thanks for the love you give to the serie, ch 2 on the way chu chu🚂.

I will soon make the masterlist to organize this🍵

All rights reserved to @coffepurpleu

[izacore]

Of course Anne and Gemma hugging and crying while hearing the song doesn’t mean it’s about Gemma, but added to everything else, it all adds up. And he also didn’t say that ESNY was about Robin, and he was asked about it. And we know it’s about Robin because he alluded to it being about “receiving bad news about a family member” in a secret show (not in an interview). I think he just wanted songs to be relatable to fans, even if they were specific for him. Like, I think SOTT is very obviously about Matt Irwin but Harry didn’t mention it, even though he did talk about Matt other times.

About the stuttering, he was asked if it was about Louis. I don’t personally believe in Larry but I’m neutral on it, I’m not an anti. Whether Larry is real or not, imagine he wrote the song about his sister and is promoting it. And he gets asked if it’s about either his secret boyfriend or an ex bandmate people think is his boyfriend. Of course he’s gonna be taken by surprise and confused. Clearly he wasn’t expecting the question. And he did say “if you hear the lyrics you can tell what it’s about and I would lean towards no.” So in a gentle way being like “this isn’t romantic” (which, again, he said in an interview with USA Today in 2017 as well).

You can obviously think it’s cringe. But to me, Harry writing a sweet song about his sister and her getting emotional over it and his mom loving it so much is super cute. It doesn’t take away anything from anywhere else to me. I think making incest jokes is disrespectful because the song isn’t romantic at all it’s not sexual. It’s just sweet.

Like, even if you do think it’s romantic (I truly don’t see it at all), imagine you’re wrong and despite being so sure of what you believe it turns out it was always about Gemma and you were making incest jokes about them. Won’t you feel kinda bad? How would you feel if someone misinterpreted something you did for a family member as romantic and blamed you for it and said you’re a weirdo and creepy and made incest jokes?

Sometimes this fandom can lack so much empathy. We forget that the boys aren’t our friends and they’re people with feelings and thought processes that are completely separate to ours.

Why do you guys insist that the song being romantic would mean it's sexual when one automatically doesn't warrant the other lmao you can be romantic without commiting a sexual act, so this reasoning doesn't speak to me at all.

For me taking everything into consideration adds up to it being about Louis so we could have this conversation forever. I just don't understand why you all aren't so hell-bent on making other songs that use similar lyricism about Gemma? Sunflower? Kids in the kitchen - obviously about them playing during their childhood. Canyon Moon? Going back to his family home, since Gemma brings him home. We can go on and on, but in my opinion context matters 💁🏼‍♀️ Nothing was stopping Harry from simply laughing it off when asked the question in the interview. Also no, I wouldn't feel bad cause like you said, those people are not my friends, I don't know them, will never meet or talk to them so I can laugh about a situation where everyone is denying reality to prove that Harry Styles did not write a love song for his sister.

[sainte666]

I had the most overstimulating / frustrating dentist’s appointment this morning.. it was like torture because I had to put a tight ass mouthguard in that was really hard to take out, awkwardly return my 2 week old broken retainer and be told I have a weird bite (duh. oh my god it isn’t like they didn’t know this!) and they made me watch a 90s homophobic joke on TV too 😭 (more below if you want the full story! I had a lot to say)

Ok so for context, I am stoned writing this & I have fucked up teeth due to Everything (eating disorder behaviors + childhood trauma and autism and having oral fixations and being sick due to a kinda anti vax mom etc etc are very bad for you lmaoooo)

I have broken 2 retainers 1 mouth guard (and am now being told to not wear the retainer at night and basically wear it during the day ig)

Today I pick up my new mouthguard and hand them broken retainer #2 which is humiliating since I broke it like within 2 weeks of receiving it

The shitty large corporation dentist’s office is always playing videos and music and shit all at the same time, way too overstimulating, and I ended up being witness to this old Fresh Prince episode with a homophobic joke 😭 It was when Will Smith’s character tries to get the butler a girlfriend for his birthday and he literally delivered the joke about assuming too much and took his hands away dramatically which has aged VERY poorly! (was bad to begin with lmao)

And then I had to try this very tight fitting mouthguard, with my dirty outside hands because they make you do it.. but don’t have me wash my hands which is disgusting but I just do it because they expect me to 😭😭😭😭😭😭 And then as she was talking about fixing my broken retainer, I was desperately trying to get the stupid mouthguard out so I could answer her and it was SO hard to take off my teeth 🤪 Probs because of my broken appliances that they told me to keep using bc it’s that or my teeth 🙃

Anyway I managed to get it off and was like hey this was really snug and hard to remove, was I doing it wrong?? and got a kind of non answer and a brief visual demonstration. Lmao… and I was trying to practice putting it on / taking it out and acclimate my teeth to an old ish scan, and at one point just couldn’t get it to go back on my teeth. So I am not very excited to try it tonight but if I can get it to stay, I think this one might work. But my teeth are going to be SO sensitive for the next month FML

THE GOOD NEWS THO! 😇

My old dentist (who unforch worked for the old guy who owned the practice and for some reason he sold out to a corporation instead of idk… letting HER take the company???) made her own practice and it’s finally open to the public 😎 I am one of her first patients I think lmao

Dr C…. please for the love of god you gotta help my deteriorating mouth 😭 I see a future with adult braces and probably mouth PT lol

[dr-drea]

List 5 things that make you happy, and then put this in the ask box for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. Learn to know your mutuals and followers 🤍

Ooh, I love this, some positivity in these cold and dark days!

My little nephews. I don't see them often, but when I do, I am filled with so much joy and laughter. I just love them so much!!

Coffee. Especially since I lived in Italy I started enjoying coffee and different kinds of coffee so much. Plus, I recently discovered that my roommate's milk foam machine also works with cheap 1€ something oat milk. And it makes me feel like I have beaten the system for not buying the overpriced vegan "barista" milk.

My favorite thing that happened to me this month might be a trip to Berlin I made with my Uni course. We visited the Bundestag and some museums and I learned so much!! We also had one day off, which I spent looking for "Druck" locations (I would post the pictures but they are all so bad lmao). But it was so nice to be there and to relive my favorite moments of the seasons.

I also got a new haircut today and I received quite a lot of compliments for it, that made me very happy (even if I am still not sure whether I like it or not, haha).

Free time. I've been quite busy the last few days and I really missed just having a few hours each day to scroll through tumblr, listen to music, watch stuff on netflix or to read a book. But I have a free evening now and wow, this is amazing, free time is definitely underrated!!

Thank you for the ask, I hope you're doing well! :)

[skinnymeanfaggot]

In the Ramstar story how is StarClan received? Both by ram's old clan and his new group, and how does StarClan view Ramstar? If Starland is a thing in this version of course LMAO

i like to be silly and make my stories take place in the same universe, so because this happens at the same time but different area as fading starlight, there is no starclan present. basically the idea is when thunderclan left the forest and dissolves some cats went to different cities and told others about clans, and they went "hey i wanna do that!" so theres brand new clans popping up all over the world. starclan as an idea is probably introduced but kinda swept under the rug.

if starclan DID exist they would be very conflicted. i think because they have a tendency to not interfere in canon they would probably not interfere with his abuse and then when he gets his clanmates killed, goes "murder bad youre going to hell" about it. its like a brokenkit situation where like some interference could really have prevented everything from happening but starclan acting passive basically lead ramstar to where he is today. if they existed for those clans. also currently ramstars plans are to destroy all the clans forever which starclan isnt happy about so they probably hate him

[crowning-art]

TGCF SPOILERS!

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

Ohhhh today we get into some lore bits!

As annoying as Pei Ming is, this was so funny that I actually liked him for 0.2 seconds lmao

Pei Ming was probably also startled by her, and was in shock for a long time before he spoke.

“You are…”

Xuan Ji sneered coldly.

Yet unexpectedly, after a pause, Pei Ming asked, “Who are you?”

Wait this line.....

Pei Ming’s voice came. “His Highness’ spiritual device is pretty useful. I’ll have to forge one for myself too, sometime.”

“If you knew how it was forged, you wouldn’t say so…” Xie Lian thought.

I remember reading a spoiler by accident but wasn't Rouye his mom or smt?? Lmao did he kill his mom or smt? I don't think he would do that tho...

UNLESS THEY GOT THE HUMAN FACE DISEASE?????

I CANT BELIEVE THE WHOLE THING I SAID ABOUT XIE LIAN WATCHING EVERYONE LIKE IT'S A SHOW WITH POPCORN BECAME CANON LJDJDJDJDNFJFK

“Yeah, I could feel that female ghost’s love has morphed into hatred, she’s going nuts!”

“I don’t think so. I’m sure she couldn’t do it. Want to eat some melon seeds?”

“Give me another handful, thanks.”

“How can everyone be in the mood to munch on melon seeds?” Xie Lian frowned.

“Your Highness, didn’t you munch a bunch too?” the people said.

“Huh?”

Only then did Xie Lian realize that while he was so focused on the show earlier, he unconsciously received a handful of melon seeds they had passed over, and he’d eaten them all. He slapped his forehead.

Lol I was so confused like wait Yushi Huang is a female??? I thought it was a male this whole time? But then I realized it was because she was addressed as Lord Rain Master instead of Lady Rain Master! She seems cool so far

MAN MY PREDICTIONS ARE COMING TRUE...ish

I mean I did say Lang Ying was bad news a year ago! I mean he hasn't even shown up yet BUT STILL

“What did he look like?” Xie Lian pressed.

“It wasn’t clear,” the Rain Master said. “Because his head was wrapped in bandages.”

Head wrapped in bandages?!

Xie Lian was dumbfounded. “Was it Lang Ying?!”

WAIT I JUST HAD A THOUGHT! WHAT IF THERE ARE TWO WHITE NO FACES! AND LANG YING IS ONE OF THEM????? OR ATLEAST THE CAUSE OF THE DISEASE FROM YEARS AGO????

Anyways, reunion when?

They are living in a rom-com and completing every trope for reals lmaoo current trope: sleepover!

Xie Lian walked off for a bit and had wanted to just find a tree to lean against and lie down for a bit, but Hua Cheng dug out a bunch of ropes and cloth from who knows where, and set up two swinging hammock beds between two trees. The two of them climbed in, and there was ample space, very comfortable to lie in.

Ok, just like the others, Yushi Huang's story was so tragic! Not as bad as the others (but also theirs did take a turn for the worst later on and there might be a later on with her story too...) ALSO GENERAL PEI??? WHAT??? HOW IS HE EVERYWHERE THO??? I wonder if Yushi Huang ever liked him....

The people at the bottom saw someone stuck on top of the roof, unable to come down, and all thought it funny. Even the princesses and princes of Yushi were snickering with their mouths covered. It was only a general of Xuli who, after chuckling, leapt up and brought her down.

This general was of course Pei Ming.

HOLY OH MY GOD I HAVE TO APPLAUD THE GENIUS OF RONG GUANG'S PLAN That was literally so chillingly well thought out and beautiful that I kinda just HAVE to appreciate it, yknow? Like genuinely stunningly beautiful and genius

The Xuli troops brought over hundreds of felons on the death row from Yushi, dressed them up as normal civilians, and dragged them before the palace gates. Then, he told King Yushi: if he should come out himself and kowtow three times to show penance for oppressing his people, and kill himself in atonement, then he would let those civilians go and not lay a single finger on any of the remaining members of the royal house. If he should refuse, Pei Ming would chop off those civilians’ heads. He gave the royals three days’ time, and every passing day in those three, a new group would be killed. After three days passed, they would invade the palace to kill the royals, then kill the rest of the civilians.

If King Yushi refused to come out, then he was selfish and didn’t love his people. The awkward thing was, King Yushi had always publicized that he loved his people like his children; if his words and actions didn’t match, it would for sure produce resentment in the people, thinking they’d been deceived. “Didn’t you say you loved your people like your children? Why would you turn around and have the civilians be sacrificed for the sake of royalty?” This would then destroy their loyalty to the Yushi royalty.

OK WHAT I LOVE THO IS THAT FOR HOW PERFECT AND WELL THOUGHT THE XULI PLAN WAS, THE YUSHI HUANG PLAN WAS EVEN MORE STUNNING FHFJFJJFJGJF

Thus, in less than an hour, in the crudest and most rushed succession ceremony in the history of the Kingdom of Yushi, the monarch who was the least likely to become queen was born.

The new Queen of Yushi slit her own throat, and blood poured like a fountain; no doubt, beyond saving.

Like Xuan Ji had no right to disregard her as Queen after everything she did

Rom cooooooommmmmm this time the trope is: cute motorcycle/bike ride (well ox in this case lmao) while holding your beloved's waist lmao

The black ox sped rapidly, and Xie Lian’s body was leaning back slightly from the force, almost like he was sitting in Hua Cheng’s embrace. He smiled as he listened.

“There sure isn’t anything San Lang doesn’t know; it’s like no tales or classics can trip you up.”

Hua Cheng smiled too. “Is there anything else gege wants to know? I’ll tell you everything, if it’s within my knowledge.

Obsessed with the imagery here! Just putting it here so I can find it again in the future lol

The reason why this mountain looked like it was dyed in the colour of blood was because the forests on this mountain were all red. They weren’t maples, but they were crimson like maples; the colour of blood. Xie Lian could also smell the stench of blood. It seemed the nutrients of the plants here consisted of plenty of resentment and human blood.

OK THERE IS TWO POSSIBILITIES: so it's Jun Wu as White No Face OR Lang Ying since they both have strong connections to the human face disease incident

“Since this person destroyed the other two murals, then why didn’t they destroy this one too?”

Hua Cheng asked. “Why did they leave just this one? And it just had to be the one of the Human Face Disease?

NEVER MIND! THIRD POSSIBILITY! IT IS A WHOLE NOTHER PERSON

“The third possibility is, it wasn’t that this person didn’t want to destroy all the murals, but they didn’t make it in time. Just as they were destroying the other two, we came in. So now, they’re hiding in the grand hall this very moment.”

Ahhhhh I wonder who it can be~ I'm gonna be sitting with anticipation the whole day tomm!!! And I imagine tomm's read will go a lot like this lol

[cookinguptales]

Hi, if you have the time and are not too overwhelmed with the amount of requests you have received thus far, I would love a reading 😊💖 I haven't had one in years since I had lost touch with my spiritual side. If not, that's alright 💕

It's all good! I am slowly but surely making my way through the last few. I'm lazy today. *rolls around in bed*

And I've never had much of a spiritual side, so you're in good hands here. lmao

(The Empress, The Hermit, Death)

don't panic

Let me be perfectly clear -- Death does not need to be a scary card. Like my dear Uncle Deadly, it looks a lot scarier than it is. Death is a card of transformation. In the simplest and most poetic terms, something in your life needs to die to make room for something new. Think leaves on a tree. Those leaves need to die, but the tree itself will be just fine. Spring will come and new leaves will take their place. And in fact -- it can be dangerous for a tree not to shed its leaves. If they hold onto their leaves for too long, the winter can cause serious damage. So, like a tree, you need to grow and change lest your old leaves start to hurt you.

I think... given the other two cards, like that tree, you might need a period to be dormant. The Hermit is a card that calls for you to turn inward and reevaluate what you want and need in life. It's a time for contemplation and consideration. You should check in with yourself and your needs and not allow yourself to be swayed by what others think -- at least right now. Maybe this time of transformation will be a good chance for you to think about what you need right now and pivot to face those options more clearly.

Finally, The Empress is a very nurturing, bountiful, patient, staid card. This card is stability and it's wisdom. It's associated with nature and childbirth -- so, in other words, new life. I don't think this necessarily needs to be literal, though it can be. The bounty that The Empress carries can be one that you create or one that you claim. You can create a new life or you can just make up your mind to live one. Just be kind to yourself and to others, and nurture the parts of you that need nurturing as you do it.

I think all in all, this reading really indicates a change coming in your life, but not at all a bad one. You'll be given the chance to transform into something that befits the life you're living right now, and you'll have the chance to shuck off the mindset that is no longer serving you. Just approach this situation with patience, mindfulness, and determination, and you'll be okay. 💜