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sapphire-writes · 1 year

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Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: The night of the hockey formal. Chaos ensures of course, because nothing's that easy with this group!

word count: 3.2k

warnings: 18+ series general language & mature themes (p in v, fingering, kissing, praise, unprotected, slight hair pulling).

note: hope you enjoy my loves 😘

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 5: Formal ~ next chapter

“How’s the studying going?” Helaena asks, looking up from her book.

You’ve been sitting with her in the student lounge for about an hour now, staring at your phone. Aegon’s text messages have been on your mind for a while now. Not that he’s been responding. He’s been MIA since the neon party.

“Y/N,” Helaena says as you continue to stare, brows furrowed together.

Helaena closes her book loudly, but still, you fail to look up. Where is he?

“Y/N!” Helaena says, louder this time.

You blink rapidly, locking your phone and smiling apologetically.

“Sorry, what Hel?” you ask.

“How’s studying? With Egg?” Helaena asks.

The feeling of his lips on your returns, the feeling of his tongue slipping into your mouth. The cool metal of his tongue ring. His lips. Fuck, his lips. An ache grows between your legs, and your mind flashes to the memory of riding his thigh.

“Studying’s going great,” you manage to say, forcing a smile on your face.

You send Aegon another text.

“Are you excited for formal?” Helaena asks, eyes flickering from your face to your phone, “Who’s got you so grumpy?”

“What?” you say looking up, “No one, shit, just Sara. Um-” you rub a hand over your face, “Yeah, yeah formal should be fun!”

“Egg looks forward to it every year,” Helaena muses, “I hear he’s taking Lydia Tyrell.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you try to ignore the hot flash of jealousy that rolls through you. Helaena’s brother. Off-limits.

“That’s nice,” you tell her, “They make a cute pair.”

“Yeah,” Helaena says snorting, “For however long Egg holds onto her.”

You frown.

“What do you mean?”

Helaena closes her book, folding her hands on top of one another.

“Aegon is a manwhore,” she tells you, “He chooses a pretty, desperate girl, lavishes her with attention, and then throws her to the curb when he’s done.”

Your throat tightens at her words.

“He chews them up and spits them out,” Helaena continues, “My brother’s not the nicest guy to fool around with. Not that any of my friends have to worry about that. I’d kill him.”

Shit.

You force a smile.

“You would?” you ask nervously, and Helaena nods.

“Did I ever tell you about Cassandra? My best friend in high school?”

You shake your head and Helaena sighs.

“Aegon broke her heart. Shattered it into a million tiny pieces. She never spoke to me again,” Helaena tells you.

Your heart nearly stops beating at her words.

“My best friend,” Helaena says, enunciating the words, “Aegon doesn’t think about anyone but himself. Love him, but he’s got issues.”

Nervousness swirls in your stomach. Helaena tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, sighing and shaking her head.

“I’m so sorry that happened, Hel,” you tell her.

“Me too,” Helaena says, placing her cheek in her hand and reading her textbook.

It’s settled. You need to pursue this thing with Cregan. Aegon is off-limits.

Later in the day, you and Sara get ready together doing your makeup in front of your floor-length mirror. Sara chose a skin-tight red dress that looks amazing on her.

Your dress is in deep forest green, hugging your curves perfectly. Sara’s eyes bug out of her head when you exit your room.

“Cregan’s going to cream his pants,” she says, wolf-whistling at you.

“I sure hope so,” you say, snickering slightly.

You look your arm through hers, grab your purse, and exit the apartment. You’re supposed to meet at the hockey house, Sara offers to drive blasting your favorite songs all the while. When you park, you feel your skin prickle with nervousness, all the hairs on your arms standing at attention.

Some guys stand outside, dressed in suits, sharing drinks. You spot Jace and Cregan standing on the front steps as you exit Sara’s car. She calls out to Jace, waving at the pair. You notice Aegon talking with some teammates, not acknowledging your arrival.

“We got a limo together, to take us all,” Jace tells you, kissing Sara’s cheek.

Cregan eyes light up as you appear, scanning you up and down. A wolfish grin appears on his face and he wets his lips.

“You look great,” he tells you.

“So do you,” you say smiling.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Aegon says, arm slung over Lydia’s delicate shoulders.

He’s wearing an all-black suit, his silver hair slicked back. He gives you a sideways grin before looking away quickly.

You all pile into the limo together, knees bumping against each other in the crowded space as music blasts from the speakers. Neon lights flash and a disco ball reflect the light in all directions.

Though Cregan and you make conversation you can’t help but watch Aegon and Lydia, who sits perched on his lap, with a ring-clad hand tightly gripping her upper thigh. His fingers play with the edge of her dress, slightly disappearing underneath it.

Your eyes flicker to his face and you meet his violet eyes. He’s looking back at you. Flustered at being caught staring, you quickly lower your gaze, cheeks burning.

The ride is pretty quick, and you don’t look at Aegon again.

You all start to exit the limo, walking in pairs into the hotel. It’s fancy as hell, with a huge spiral staircase and grand chandelier sparkling in the foyer. Aegon has already disappeared inside, you catch a glimpse of Lydia’s auburn hair, Aegon’s hand pressed against her lower back.

Cregan takes your arm, beginning to lead you up the stairs when your stomach drops.

“Shit,” you mumble, slapping your side.

“What’s up?” Sara says stopping, arm linked through Jace’s.

“I left my purse in the limo,” you tell them, smiling at Cregan apologetically.

“I can get it for you,” he says smiling.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, “I’ll be just a second, you guys head upstairs without me.”

“You’re sure?” he asks, squeezing your hand.

You nod, and they continue up the stairs without you.

You walk back down the steps, goosebumps appearing the longer you’re in the cold air. You find the limo pretty quickly in the parking lot, the driver standing across the lot smoking a cigarette.

“Excuse me,” you tell her, “I left my purse inside.”

“No problem,” she says clicking the unlock, “go right ahead sweetheart.”

You give her a kind smile and continue walking to the limo. The door opens are you poke your head inside. The lights are still going, but no music plays now. It’s sort of spooky just multicolored lights flashing over the leather seats.

You duck, but it's still incredibly spacious as you slide down the seat to where you had been seated with Cregan in the back. With no one else in the limo, it’s very roomy. Your purse lays squished between the cushions and you sling it on your arm when the door shuts behind you.

Your head whips around, panic slicing through you until you see who it is. Aegon slouches against the seat, manspreading his legs as he leans his head back on the headrest of the seat. He watches you as he taps his fingers on the door.

He’s wearing rings again.

Stop that. Bad girl. Go back to Cregan.

“What are you doing?” you ask him, not moving.

“What are you doing?” he playfully mimics, raising a brow and smiling widely.

You hold up your purse.

“Sure you’re not avoiding Stark?” he asks, wetting his lips.

You let out a sharp breath, laughing slightly.

“And why would I be doing that?”

“You tell me.”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t have time for this Aegon, Cregan’s waiting for me.”

You start to scoot down the seat toward him. There’s no way out without passing over him.

“Mhmm,” he answers, rubbing his eyes. He leaves his palm on top of his eyes.

You stop scooting as you reach the corner next to him.

“Are you avoiding someone?” you ask referring to his date.

Aegon splays his fingers on his face, peering at you between the cracks of his fingers.

“Maybe,” he says, lower lip jutting out into a pout.

You chuckle.

“Lydia Tyrell not doing it for you?” you ask, hoping the bitterness you feel isn’t evident in your tone.

“She’s nice enough,” he murmurs.

A moment of silence happens between you, the tension is palpable in the small space.

“She’s probably missing you about now,” you tell him.

“Told her I needed a smoke.”

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t.”

You laugh despite feeling bad for the abandoned Lydia. Aegon watches you laugh, a smile tugging at his lips.

“You could have come alone,” you tell him, but he snorts.

Silence again. You feel the need to keep talking.

“How’s your studying?”

“You’re seriously asking me about studying right now?” he asks, hand falling from his face to his thigh.

“Should I be asking about something else?”

“You tell me, bunny.”

You stare him down for a moment, those violet eyes looking into your soul. Don’t be a pussy, you hear Sara’s voice in your head.

“Why did you kiss me?”

He smirks then, as though he was hoping you’d be brave enough to ask.

“To help you with Stark.”

“No,” you clarify, “At the neon party. You didn’t need to, but you did it anyway.”

Aegon continues to stare.

“Maybe I just wanted to kiss you.”

Your face flushes. He’s wearing that damn earring again. Two of them. Both hoops, the one lower on his lobe holding some animal’s tooth. The multicolored lights dance across his features and it suddenly feels warm, too warm, like you’ll suffocate.

“Cregan is waiting for me,” you tell him, moving to leave.

Aegon takes this as defeat, nodding as you begin your exit. There’s no way to get past him, not without going over him. He leans up as you move one leg over him, basically straddling him. His hand glides over your leg and you freeze, hand gripping the headrest to help your balance. Your hair is brushing against his face, and you meet his eyes. He’s right in front of you, close enough to kiss.

Your other hand is on the handle of the door.

His eyes flicker to your lips, just once, and your thighs give, crashing you into his lap. You gasp, feeling the hardness present between his legs, before he swallows the sound with his lips against yours.

Your hand drops from the door tangling in hair as his hands slide under your ass. One hand snakes up your back, gripping the back of your neck keeping your mouth securely against his.

He tastes the same way he did the other night, he feels like he did that night. His lips are forbidden fruit, and you’re starving. Aegon’s hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, squeezing at your breasts, your ass, your thighs, just constant pressure. His teeth sink into your lower lip and you moan into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing you closer to him.

His hands drop only so he can reach for his belt. You watch him unbuckle it.

“We don’t have time,” you tell him, as he recaptures your lips.

“Sure we do,” he insists.

You whimper against him, dropping your hands to assist his efforts. Once his cock is freed, you wrap your hand around him and pump his length. Aegon groans as you do so before pushing your dress up around your waist. You’re all uncoordinated, limbs flailing all over the place, and you’re not sure how but Aegon manages to wrestle you out of your panties while you’re still on his lap.

He swipes a finger through your slick folds, grinning as you spasm against him.

“Just fuck me,” you tell him, desperate to be quick.

Aegon playfully frowns.

“We’re not being that quick,” he says, sinking two fingers into your tight heat, “what, do you think I’m not a gentleman? Huh?”

The strangled noise that leaves you only fuels the fire of Aegon’s pride. You can feel the metal of his rings pressing into you, eliciting more erotic noises as he crooks his fingers in you just right.

“You think after all this, I’m not gonna make you come?” Aegon teases.

“Fuuck,” you whine, grinding your hips against his fingers.

“Yeah, fuuck,” Aegon agrees, mimicking you; biting his lip, and nodding his head.

He’s such an arrogant asshole.

Your palm slams against the window as his thumb presses against your clit rubbing even little circles around the slick bundle of nerves. Thank the fucking gods the windows are tinted. Aegon chuckles at the state of you as he works his fingers in your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, this pussy is gonna feel so good on my cock,” he murmurs.

“Aegon, oh fuck,” you squeak, walls clenching around his fingers.

“Soak my fingers, that’s it,” he encourages, unrelenting with his movements, “keep saying my name baby.”

Your orgasm washes over you, sending you slumping against him as he moves to replace his fingers with his cock.

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him, feeling the fat head of his cock spreading your lips.

He kisses your neck, nipping lightly.

“You want my cock?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“All yours,” he tells you, and you lift your lips before sinking onto him.

It takes no time at all to figure out Aegon likes to be vocal, not that you expected anything else. It’s all dirty praises wrapped between grunting, gasps, and moans as you ride him. The sounds of wet slapping echo throughout the limo, the smell of sex evident in the confined space.

“Perfect fucking pussy,” Aegon murmurs, hands resting on your ass.

Your dress is scrunched at your middle, tits out. His head is buried between them, voice muffled as he worships them with his mouth. He alternates licking the full mounds before taking your nipple in his mouth grazing it with his teeth and sucking, sending sparks of pleasure tricking down towards your navel. His mouth never leaves you, not even to come up for air, he simply traces his lips over your tits, through the valley between them to make sure he’s giving equal attention to each one.

The sensations are almost too much for you to handle, your thighs tremble, and sharp whimpers and whines leave your bruised lips. Your pussy clenches around him, feeling every vein, every curve of his thick length.

All you can do is moan, head thrown back as you bounce on his fat cock. He fills you so fucking perfectly, better than Jason, better than anyone.

“Oh gods,” you moan, “Oh fuck.”

The tip of his cock is curved so perfectly, nudging against that sweet spongy spot that makes your breath leave you with each roll of your hips.

“That’s it, come all over my cock,” Aegon says, “That’s my girl.”

You’re sent over the edge once more and feel his warm release soon after, as he spills inside of you with a breathy, whimpered, moan. Aegon captures your lips once more in a searing kiss, hands tangling in your hair.

You breathe into each other for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes.

Oh fuck.

Aegon blinks rapidly and you shy away from his gaze.

You reach for your panties but he stops your hand.

“I think I’ll keep those,” he says smiling, stuffing the lace into his pockets.

Your eyes are wide as he kisses you once more. When he pulls away he keeps his hands tightly on your jaw, just enough so you can’t look away from him.

“Now you go in there, dance with Cregan, and have a fucking ball with my cum dripping down your legs,” he purrs.

Your lips are parted in shock, eyes wide and dumb.

“You hear me?”

“Uh huh,” you answer.

Aegon drags his thumb over the shape of your lips.

“We got to go,” he tells you, as you rise from his softening cock.

You fix the straps of your dress and pull it down to cover your ass as he opens the door. Aegon exits first and holds a hand out to help you out. You take it, rising on shaky legs.

“Let’s go,” he says grinning.

He holds your hand until you enter the hotel, following him up the stairs and into the ballroom. He turns, winking at you, before strutting across the room to Lydia.

Sara comes barreling over to you.

“Got your purse?” she says, her smile faltering as she sees your expression.

“Bathroom, NOW,” you tell her, grabbing her hand.

She follows your lead and you hurry to the restroom.

“What is it?” Sara asks.

You can feel him running down your thighs. Sara raises an eyebrow.

“Sara,” you tell her, “Don’t freak out.”

She freaks out.

“You fucked him? Just now?” she hisses, eyes falling to your chest, “Oh shit, Y/N your chest-”

You rush to the mirror. Dark red blotches are forming from Aegon’s attention. You pull the collar of your dress up.

“Here,” Sara says, digging into your purse, “I put our concealers in here.”

“What the fuck do I do?” you ask as she uses her fingers to apply the makeup, “Shit, Helaena’s going to kill me, Cregan is going to kill me.”

“Do you like him?” Sara asks, “Aegon?”

“Um,” your head is spinning, “I mean. Yeah. But it's Aegon! Helaena literally was just telling me how horrible he is to girls.”

“Girl yikes,” Sara says shaking her head, “I mean, you’ve seen his track record.”

“Fuck,” you tell her, “So I should just forget this right? I mean it's probably a one-time thing, he probably doesn’t even like me-”

“You cannot tutor him anymore, he’s just going to keep fucking you,” Sara tells you, “Tell him to find someone else.”

Doesn’t sound like too bad of a deal, if you’re being honest.

“But-”

“No,” she tells you firmly, “We are not having another Jason Lannister moment. Date Cregan. Fuck Cregan. A nice guy.”

You look at her wide-eyed.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she tells you.

“It was really good.”

“Did you come?”

“Yeah,” you tell her nodding and biting your lip.

“Fucking Aegon Targaryen,” she says shaking her head, “Okay, you’re good, let's get back out there.”

You go to the bathroom, wiping the remnants of Aegon’s release from your thighs with shaking hands. Sara’s right.

You make your way to Cregan, he takes your hand spinning you around. You smile. He’s so nice, such a good guy. Jace and Sara dance next to you as a slow song begins to play. You loop your hands around Cregan’s neck, glancing behind him.

Aegon’s leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face, hands stuffed in his pockets. He removes his left hand, slightly revealing the dark green lace of your panties before shoving them back in. Your eyes widen and he winks.

You have a feeling Aegon Targaryen is nowhere near done with you.

note: I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!! 😘

THIN ICE TAGLIST: @padfooteyes, @nina2697, @julieeba, @darkenchantress, @heavenly1927, @fan-goddess, @possiblyafangirl, @n4tforlife, @serving-targaryen-realness, @bubblyabs, @cicaspair418, @jamespotterismydaddy, @tssf-imagines, @platonichug, @tosiaf, @skikikikiikhhjuuh, @rwdkarla, @partypoison00 @moira-strangle-me-please @clairacassidy, @sh4dowrav3n, @okfashionista, @kravitzwhore, @queenofshinigamis, @misspendragon, @marytargaryen, @dope-trope-105, @imarimon, @whoisalexa

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simplyholl · 1 year

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Bad Idea, Right?

Summary: Your ex boyfriend, Loki hits you up one late night to hook up. It’s a bad idea, right?

Based on the song “Bad Idea Right?” By Olivia Rodrigo

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18 + ONLY. Mentions of marijuana use.

W/C: 1.1K

See my Masterlist Here

“Tell me you’re not texting Loki right now.” Your best friend, Hannah rolls her eyes at you. “I just see him as a friend.” You inform her. It’s the biggest lie you could’ve told.

Loki was your most recent ex boyfriend. He was a cocky, narcissistic asshole. But that didn’t stop your heart from being shattered into a million tiny pieces when he broke up with you.

You spent countless hours crying to Hannah about him. You had only dated for a few months. But there was something about him that you were drawn to, that felt right.

The worst part was that he had someone to replace you the very next day. You found out when you ran into them at your favorite restaurant. You were angry with yourself because you introduced Loki to it in the first place.

Hannah took you out to cheer you up. To your surprise, Loki was there with a woman who looked like she belonged on the cover of Playboy. As soon as you saw them, you had to swallow the lump in your throat and fight back the tears threatening to fall. Hannah sent you to the car while she called the server over to bring your check.

Months had passed. You’ve spent more time apart than you did with him. You were mostly over him. You had hooked up with other guys since then. They all paled in comparison to Loki though. You knew if given the chance, you would go back to him.

Here it was late on a Saturday night. Loki was texting you out of the blue. Maybe it was the joint you smoked, but you thought he was flirting with you. You ignored his text, leaving him on read. Your phone starts vibrating in your lap, the stupid picture you had set for his contact of the two of you illuminating the screen.

You knew you should have blocked him. You excuse yourself, locking yourself in the bathroom to answer his call. “Loki, why are you calling me?” “It’s nice to hear from you too, darling.” You can practically hear the smirk he was wearing over the phone.

You shouldn’t have answered. He could talk you into anything. It wasn’t your fault. He was so charming. At least that’s what you tell yourself when you lie to Hannah, telling her you’re going home to sleep. You get in the car waiting for him to send you his new address.

When you arrive at the apartment building, you text him letting him know you’re there. He tells you to meet him on the second floor. Smug asshole, couldn’t even meet you outside. You walk down the long hallway when you finally see him.

He’s standing in his doorway smiling at you with a cocky grin that lets you know that he knew you would come. When his blue eyes meet yours, you know it was inevitable. He would pull you right back in. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a more attractive man in your whole existence.

He moves aside to let you in. He says something as you enter, but you don’t hear it. It’s like you can’t hear your thoughts when you’re with him. As soon as his door clicks shut, he corners you like he’s a predator who has just captured his prey.

He places his arms beside your head. Long, dark curls hang loosely down his back leaving little water droplets behind. He must have just showered. “I’ve missed this.” He says before crashing his lips into yours. His tongue runs along your bottom lip begging for entrance, but you break the kiss. “Seeing you tonight was a bad idea in the first place, so spare me. You don’t need to lie about how you missed me. We both know why I’m here.”

Your phone hadn’t stopped buzzing in your pocket since you left Hannah’s. She knew you were lying to her. She probably knew where you were too. She was more than likely calling to talk you out of it. You curse Loki and his devil dick for making you lie to your best friend.

Your clothes had been discarded in a trail leading to Loki’s bed. He sheds his shirt, laying back against the mattress. You climb on top of him. His lips press against yours once more. You run your hands through his hair, pressing your bare chest to his. You missed this, him. You moan into his mouth. You pull him closer, needing friction. You rub yourself against his leg. Your arousal leaks down your thighs and gathers in a wet spot on his pants. Loki’s lips detach from yours.

“Sit on my face.” He commands you. He doesn’t have to repeat himself. You place your thighs against his smooth cheeks, hovering. His fingers dig into your hips, pulling you down firmly against him. His tongue sweeps across your folds. You hear a stifled moan as he laps up your arousal.

His hands grasp you tighter. He taps your thigh to get your attention. You lift yourself off him momentarily as he warns you, “Hold onto the headboard.” You do as you’re told. Loki plunges his tongue inside you while his nose works your clit. You grip the headboard until your hands start to cramp. His firm, velvet tongue envelops you, licking messily down your center. Your legs start to shake as the heat in your stomach rises.

He draws the most sensitive part of you between his lips. His moans vibrate against you. You chase your high, wantonly riding his face. You buck your hips faster as he tastes you. With each swipe of his tongue, the headboard hits the wall a little harder. He curls the talented muscle against your clit as he suckles it. The pressure is so delicious, it sends you over the edge.

You cry out his name when his neighbor beats on the wall. “Knock it off, Laufeyson! We already talked about you keeping your company quiet!” You lay down beside him, raising your eyebrow in question. His lips curl up into a smile, “He’s incredibly jealous.”

Loki gets off the bed, beckoning you with his finger to follow. He lifts you, placing your back against the wall. He doesn’t take his pants off. He pushes them down a little freeing himself. His hard cock plunged inside you suddenly, causing you to gasp. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist.

Loki’s hands rest on the firm skin of your cheeks. With each thrust, he makes sure to knock your body against the wall. “Tell me, pet. Have I ruined all other men for you? Do you think of me when you’re in their bed?” His large hand comes between you, rubbing circles on your clit. You claw at his back, placing your head on his shoulder. “No one compares to you, Loki.” You answer honestly.

When he strokes your sweet spot, you bite down on the porcelain skin on his neck. He brings you down on his cock faster, hitting the wall harder each time. His neighbor starts shouting and banging on the other side. “Let’s give him something to complain about.” Loki whispers in your ear. His agile finger works swiftly between your joined bodies. He hits impossibly deeper, driving his hips against yours.

Loki’s thrusts slow down as you reach your peak together. You cry out, shouting Loki’s name. You don’t do it to piss off the neighbor. You can’t help it. When you finish, you hear “Finally!” from the other side. Loki places your feet back on the ground. You follow the trail you left your clothes in, putting them back on as you come across them.

You take your phone out of your pants checking the time. You have eight missed calls and thirteen texts from Hannah. You quickly text her back letting her know you were safe. Loki walks toward his bathroom, pushing his hair behind his ears. “See you next weekend?” He asks. You just nod as you walk out the door.

Tags

@fictive-sl0th @lokisgoodgirl @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @potter-puff007 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @coldnique @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @anukulee @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lokischambermaid @muddyorbsblr

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george-weasleys-girl · 1 year

Note

Hey! Could I ask for Georgie x Hufflepuff!reader. Reader likes to read, is calm and does well at school but also fun and their friends are like amazed with how well they complement each other?

Did I base this in myself? Of course. Thanks lovely 🤍 Feel free to ignore as always!

Thank you for such a lovely request 💗

The Odd Couple

George Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: a couple of curse words

~•~

"Ready, my love?" George offered his hand.

Y/N smiled and took it. "With you, always."

People had long since given up wondering what the rebellious Gryffindor prankster and the sweet, soft-spoken Hufflepuff scholar could possibly see in each other, and just started admitting they were one of the school's most adorable couples.

~•~

"I love Hogsmede in the spring," Y/N commented as they strolled through the tiny village. "Everything's just so vibrant and lively."

"I was thinking," George said. "How do you feel about grabbing lunch to go from The Three Broomsticks and having a little picnic? Enjoy the warm spring day."

"Ooh, yeah!" A bright smile spread across his girlfriend's face, and she took a few little bouncy steps.

George's heart warmed at her enthusiasm. "A picnic it is then."

Y/N wasn't the first girl he'd dated. However, she was the first one who understood or even cared that he was his own person, with his own talents and hopes and needs.

"You're so much more than just Fred's twin," she'd said to him in Herbology after he'd grumbled under his breath about being seen as "Second Fred."

At the time, he and Y/N weren't even friends yet. Only project partners, paired together by Professor Sprout. So, he certainly hadn't intended for her to hear him. But Y/N did, and her response changed everything. George froze at her words, barely aware that the plant he was holding had slipped from his grasp until the pot hit the floor, shattering into a million pieces. No one, not even his family, had ever said anything like that to him. And from that point on, he made it his mission in life to learn everything about this girl.

Now, here they were, eight months later, madly in love. And if anyone had a problem with it, they could fuck right off.

~•~

"Seriously? You're dating George Weasley? But why?" Y/N's roommate, Amy, had asked her when she announced that she and George were dating.

"What do you mean, why?"

"Well, he's George Weasley, and you're, you know, you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Y/N crossed her arms.

"I don't mean anything bad by it," her roommate said quickly. "It's just that you're so smart and sweet. And George is a Weasley twin. You know how he and Fred are."

"I know," Y/N defended. "That George is not Fred. They're twins, Amy, not carbon copies of each other."

And with that, Y/N threw the door open and headed off to meet up with her new boyfriend.

That would be the first of her many dates with George, which ultimately led to her being invited by his mum to spend summer break at the Burrow.

"I was wrong about you and George," her roommate had admitted much later. "You guys are perfect for each other. I don't know how or why, but you are."

"Of course we are," Y/N smiled proudly.

Her roomie wasn't the only one to achieve that epiphany. Once, where there'd been odd looks and whispers behind their back, there were now heart eyes as people fell in love with her and George being in love.

~•~

"What did I do to make you fall in love with me?" George asked.

The question came completely out of the blue, and Y/N rolled onto her side to face him. "A million things really," she said. "You're sweet and thoughtful. You make me laugh. Alot. And I feel stronger with you, more confident, more daring."

George smiled and pushed a stray hair from her face. "When we first started dating, Fred refused to take our relationship seriously. He just couldn't understand why we were together. With you being you and me being me and all that ridiculousness."

Y/N gave a small laugh and nodded. She'd also dealt with her fair-share of such nonsense. "And now?"

"I still don't think he understands. But he's glad that I've found someone that makes me happy," George said. "And you do, you know. Make me happy. You see me. You love me for me. And I just wanted to know what I did to make you fall in love with me so I can make sure I keep doing it."

"Just keep being yourself, Georgie. That's all you'll ever need to do."

"Oh good!" he wiped his brow in mock relief. "Glad it's something easy!"

"Perfect! Love it! That's peak George Weasley right there," Y/N laughed and pulled him in for a kiss.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @samberriejams @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @mrsgweasley @hufflepuffie @morally-grey-obsessed @fredweasleyyyyy @anvaaryn @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @hmisa11 @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz @wolfkill16 @kaysau2510 @qmylovexoxo @planetkt @costheticbabe @drama-queen-fromthevault @smallsweetvanillabean @hanne-montana @greenapplegrass @el-de-phi @lizzytrees @scooby-doo1995 @spididerman @yoursarahg @marvelgirlstories @theimpossible-girl-whowaited @ceehance @Havenater1920 @jelloangela @charmedfandomgal @loca4moony @whotfskai @netflix-addict

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader #george weasley x you #hp fandom #hp universe #george weasley fluff

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mjsdiana · 13 days

Text

𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚎

*Requested*

1988

New York City

Word Count: 13.5k

It had been four agonizing days since you'd last spoken to him, since you'd even allowed yourself to think of him. His presence, once so comforting, now felt like a jagged wound. Each memory of him was another shard of glass piercing through you. The betrayal, the heartbreak—it felt like your chest had been crushed, shattered into a million tiny fragments, impossible to piece back together. He had called you "My Girl," made you believe you were his everything, but after that night, everything was tainted. What once felt like a dream was now an unrelenting nightmare, one that played on repeat in your mind, tormenting you with every passing moment.

That night was plastered everywhere—on television screens, across newspaper headlines, whispered about in conversations you couldn't escape. That kiss, her kiss, replayed over and over in your mind, like a cruel loop. The sight of her lips on his still burned into your vision, making you nauseous with every flash of recollection.

Why did she kiss him? And why did he just stand there, unmoving, as if her lips on his meant nothing? A thousand questions raced through your mind, all of them worse than the last. Had he been cheating on you this whole time? Was every sweet word, every whispered promise, a lie? Had the love you thought was so real never even existed at all?

Now, you sat stiffly at the dinner in his honor, your presence at the event feeling like a punishment. It was being hosted by the United Negro College Fund, an evening meant to celebrate his success, but for you, it felt like your heart was being laid bare before a crowd. His mother, Katherine, had insisted you attend, had even personally invited you. She held your hand now, her fingers warm and gentle, silently acknowledging the depth of your pain. She knew. She understood what it felt like to see the man you loved kiss someone else in front of thousands of people at Madison Square Garden, to have that image seared into your memory. It was unbearable.

Every second in that room felt suffocating. It was as if his eyes were always on you, watching, piercing through you with a burning intensity that made you sick. You could feel your pulse racing, the bile rising in your throat as you fought back the urge to scream, to cry, to demand answers from the man who had shattered your heart. The weight of your grief was suffocating, and it sat heavy on your chest, trapping you in place.

You hadn't spoken to him since that night. You couldn't. The moment the scene had unfolded in front of you—her lips pressed against his, his frozen reaction—you'd fled. Your heart pounding, your vision blurred with tears, you'd rushed back to the hotel, barely registering your surroundings as you packed your bags with shaking hands. The ache in your chest was unbearable, suffocating, and the thought of being near him, breathing the same air as him, felt like it would destroy you. So you ran, found another hotel, anywhere that offered an escape from the tormenting replay of that kiss.

But no matter how far you went, no matter how many doors you closed between you and him, the truth clung to you like a shadow. You had once believed—truly believed—that he loved you, that you were his everything. Now, that belief felt shattered, crumbled into dust by the cold reality of what you had witnessed. The love you had trusted in so completely now seemed like nothing more than a cruel illusion.

"Relax, hun," Katherine's soft voice broke through your spiraling thoughts. Her hand, warm and steady, gave yours a reassuring squeeze.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape. The knot in your throat tightened as you forced out, "I'm trying... it's just... looking at him, being here... I don't know if I can do this."

Katherine turned slightly in her seat, her eyes soft but searching as they met yours. "Have the both of you talked?" she asked gently, her voice filled with concern.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. The weight of everything unsaid pressed down on you as you glanced up, only to see Michael standing at the front of the room, now wearing a cap and gown—a doctorate cap and gown. He had earned this moment, a recognition of his achievements, but the sight of him—his eyes locking with yours, that familiar smile beginning to spread across his face—made your heart lurch painfully in your chest. You quickly looked away, focusing on the folds of your dress, anything but him.

Katherine's voice was patient but firm as she spoke again. "Sweetheart, you both need to talk. Holding it in won't help. It'll only eat you up inside."

Your throat tightened, and you turned to her, your voice trembling as you admitted, "If I talk to him, I might cry the whole time... I don't know if I can do it."

Katherine's eyes softened with understanding. "And it's okay to cry. Let it out if you need to. Michael didn't mean any of what happened that night. The girl only did it to get under your skin, to make you angry. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she got what she wanted. Michael fired her that same night—he wanted to tell you, but when he came back to the hotel, you were already gone."

You could feel your heart clenching, torn between hope and doubt. "What if he's lying to you?" you whispered, barely able to get the words out. "What if... what if he's seeing her? What if there's something going on between them, and I'm just too blind to see it?"

Katherine shook her head with conviction, her grip on your hand tightening just slightly. "I know my son," she said softly but with a quiet strength. "When I looked into his eyes that night, I knew. He wasn't lying to me. He was devastated, sweetheart. He made a mistake by not stopping it fast enough, but he's not seeing her. I can promise you that."

Her words offered a glimmer of reassurance, but the doubt still gnawed at you. The memory of that kiss, of the crowd, of the betrayal—it was all so fresh, the wound still too raw. Could you trust him again? Could you even bear to hear his side of the story, knowing that it might break you even more? The thought of facing him, of letting him see your tears, felt too overwhelming to contemplate.

But somewhere deep inside, you knew Katherine was right. Holding everything inside would only deepen the hurt. If you didn't talk to him, the questions would never stop, the pain would never heal.

"I can't believe I'm nervous," Michael's voice reverberated through the speakers, deep and familiar, sending a shiver down your spine. It was a sound you had been avoiding, a voice that used to be your comfort, now stirring a mixture of longing and pain within you as if you hadn't heard it in years.

The crowd laughed softly, charmed by his humility, and even Katherine smiled, her hand still wrapped securely around yours, her thumb grazing the delicate skin of your knuckles. Her touch was gentle, but it tethered you, grounding you amidst the swirling emotions threatening to pull you under.

Michael cleared his throat, his voice softer this time, almost vulnerable. "But I really am embarrassed. I appreciate everyone coming tonight... all these great friends, the people who've supported me through thick and thin. My dear mother and father, who are here in the audience."

Applause erupted as Michael gestured toward Katherine and Joe. The room seemed to collectively turn their attention to them, but his eyes—they were locked on you, unyielding, even as he smiled for the crowd. "Stand up," he encouraged, his voice echoing with a certain pride that you couldn't bear to acknowledge.

Katherine gently rose, her hand never leaving yours, as if she knew that if she let go, you might crumble. Joe stood as well, a grin spreading across his face as they soaked in the crowd's cheers. But you remained seated, stiff, still staring at the ground. It felt as though if you met his gaze, even for a second, you'd break apart, and you couldn't afford that—not here, not in front of all these people.

Katherine squeezed your hand tightly as she sat back down, her fingers still clutching yours, protective, like a mother shielding her child from the storm. You clung to that gesture, feeling like something small and fragile, lost and unsure.

You tried to focus on anything but him, but even as you lowered your gaze, you couldn't escape the memories flooding your mind. You stared down at your dress, the one he had picked out for you, his exact words echoing in your head: "I know you'll love this." It had been perfect—he had known your taste so well, had known you so well. But now, that once-beautiful gown felt like a weight, something forbidden, a painful reminder of the intimacy you had shared, the deep connection that had once defined your relationship.

Michael continued to speak, his voice rising and falling as he delivered what must have been a carefully crafted speech. But you didn't hear the words. You couldn't. They blurred together in the background, distant and meaningless, drowned out by the roar of your thoughts.

You tried to remember, tried to grasp at the fragments of what you had once shared. The way he'd make you laugh with just a look, the secret touches under the dinner table, the nights where your heart felt like it would burst with the intensity of your love for him. The connection, the trust, the bond that had seemed unbreakable. But now... it all felt so far away, like a faded memory, an echo of something that once was. The love that had once filled your heart felt hollow now, emptied by doubt, by betrayal, by the haunting image of her lips on his.

What had once been so vibrant between you—so pure and unbreakable—now felt tarnished, a cracked reflection of everything you thought you knew. As Michael's voice echoed through the room, each word from his speech felt like a weight, pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, unstable, leaving you with nothing solid to cling to. Every memory, every smile, every promise hung in the air like fragile glass, threatening to shatter at any moment.

Once the speeches ended, there was a collective sigh of relief from the audience, but for you, the tension only mounted. Michael made his way to his parents, his smile warm and effortless as he embraced them. Katherine's hand slipped from yours as she stood to greet him, and that single moment of separation hit you with a force you hadn't expected. It was as if the last tether holding you together had snapped, and reality crashed down like a tidal wave, merciless and cold.

The tears you had fought so hard to contain finally escaped, hot streaks running down your cheeks, betraying the calm façade you'd tried to maintain all evening. You hastily grabbed a napkin, dabbing at the moisture before anyone else could notice, but it felt futile. The ache inside you wasn't something you could wipe away.

And then, there he was. Kneeling before you, Michael's presence consumed the space, suffocating in its intensity. His hand reached out, gripping yours firmly, as if trying to anchor you back to him, to that version of you that had once believed in him so completely. The warmth of his touch was like fire against your skin, burning through the layers of hurt you had tried to bury. It ignited something deep inside, a rush of emotions you weren't ready for.

You pulled away quickly, instinctively, like his touch was too much, too overwhelming. But it was already too late. Just that brief contact had opened the floodgates. The dam holding back your tears collapsed, and the pain you had suppressed came rushing to the surface. The weight of it all was unbearable, the heartbreak, the betrayal—it all came spilling out in an uncontrollable torrent.

Without a word, you stood abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor as you pushed back from the table. You could feel eyes on you as you moved, but you didn't care. The only thing you could focus on was escape. Each step you took felt heavy, your heels clicking against the cold marble floor like a drumbeat in your chest. Faster and faster, you walked, your breaths growing shallow, desperate, until you found sanctuary in the women's restroom.

The door swung shut behind you with a dull thud, and for a moment, the silence felt deafening. You stumbled over to the sink, gripping the cool porcelain edge for support as you turned on the faucet. The sound of rushing water filled the space, drowning out the quiet sobs that had begun to escape your throat. You stared at your reflection, but the tears blurred your vision until all you could see was a distorted image of yourself—lost, broken, and heart-wrenchingly alone.

The pain was suffocating, wrapping around your chest like a vise. Every breath felt labored, your heart pounding erratically in your ribcage, a wild, desperate beat that matched the chaos inside your mind. Why had you come? The question looped over and over, each repetition deepening your regret. It felt like a cruel trap—an elaborate game you had been pulled into without ever realizing the rules.

The bathroom door creaked open, and the soft sound of it locking echoed through the room. You froze, your tears momentarily pausing as dread pooled in your stomach. You looked up at the mirror, but your eyes were still too blurred with emotion to see clearly. All you could make out was a figure, the deep red of their clothing catching your attention.

The figure approached, each step deliberate, but you couldn't move. You stood there, helpless, until they reached forward and turned off the water with a quiet click. It wasn't until you felt the familiar warmth of his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears, that you realized—it was Michael.

His touch was gentle, tender, as he carefully dried your eyes with a paper towel, his gaze never leaving yours. For a moment, the world around you seemed to still, the storm of emotions paused as you stood there, facing the man who had caused so much of your heartache. His presence was overwhelming, filling every inch of the room, and despite everything, a part of you still ached for him, for the connection you had lost.

Michael's large, warm hands cupped your face, his fingers spreading over your cheeks with that familiar tenderness that once made you feel safe. His touch was a comfort you had longed for in your sleepless nights, yet it now felt like a betrayal. You wanted to melt into it, to give in to the sensation of being cared for, but something inside you resisted—an ache too deep to ignore. You pushed him away, your hands trembling as they met his chest.

"Leave," you whispered, but even your voice betrayed you, cracking with the pain you had tried so hard to conceal.

Michael's brow furrowed, his expression softening as he took a step back. "Can we talk, please?" His voice, so pleading, felt like a dagger. He moved toward you again, cautiously, as if afraid you might shatter. "All I need is five minutes."

Your tears blurred the edges of his figure, but the hurt inside you was sharp and clear. You wiped at your eyes furiously, your hands shaking. "Just five? Just five minutes?" You laughed bitterly, though it was choked with emotion. "All you need is five minutes to fix what you messed up? Five minutes to fix a six-year relationship?"

"Baby, listen, I—" he started, his tone desperate, but it only fueled your rage.

"Don't 'baby' me, Michael!" Your voice echoed in the small space, each word laced with the bitterness of betrayal. "I'm not your baby after you kissed that... that girl on stage, in front of everyone—your fans, the world." Your voice wavered as the images you had tried to block out resurfaced, haunting you. "I have to see it every day, Michael. Her lips on yours, pulling you in close, like she was claiming you, owning you. Why? Was I not enough for you? Was I not the one you wanted, the one you needed?"

Your voice cracked with the weight of those questions, and the tears that you had tried so hard to hold back began to fall in earnest, hot and relentless. You could barely breathe through the sobs that wracked your body, each one pulling you deeper into the pain. Before you could step away, Michael was already moving toward you, wrapping his arms around you in a way that was both protective and suffocating. He held you close, his hand gently caressing your back in soothing circles as you broke down completely.

"Let it out," he whispered, his voice low and soft, like a lullaby meant to calm a storm. He didn't try to explain himself just yet, knowing that words would only make things worse in that fragile moment. He simply held you, absorbing the tremors of your sobs, allowing you to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

You buried your face in his chest, the fabric of his red blazer damp with your tears. The scent of him filled your senses—familiar, intoxicating—pulling you back into memories of better days. Days when his presence alone was enough to silence all your fears, to make the world feel right. But now, even with him so close, that feeling of security was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss.

Michael lifted your chin gently, his thumb grazing your skin as he tilted your face up to meet his eyes. There was a softness there, an apology unspoken but clear in the way he looked at you. "Give me an hour," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't talk here. Come with me back to the hotel. Please."

"An hour?" you asked, your voice hoarse from crying. You weren't sure you had the strength to relive everything, to open the floodgates again, but something in his voice, in the way he held you, made you pause.

Michael nodded, his expression resolute. "Maybe all night if that's what it takes," he added, his voice soft but firm, as if he had already resigned himself to whatever consequences might come from this conversation.

You hesitated, every muscle in your body screaming for you to run, but instead, you found yourself nodding. "Okay," you whispered.

Michael's hands moved with care as he grabbed another paper towel, gently drying the tears that still clung to your skin. His touch was almost reverent, as if he were handling something fragile and precious. He wiped away the last traces of your tears, even brushing softly over your lips, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Don't cry," he said softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness. "I promise I'll explain everything to you."

You didn't respond, your throat too tight, your heart too numb. The words he spoke felt distant, as though they belonged to someone else, someone who hadn't been hurt like you had. You weren't sure if you could believe him anymore.

You followed Michael out of the bathroom, your hand limp in his as he unlocked the door and guided you into the dimly lit hallway. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, the gentle breeze doing little to ease the storm inside your chest. His limo sat waiting at the back exit, a sleek, black vessel that felt like a temporary escape from the emotions swirling in your mind. The driver, ever the professional, opened the door wordlessly, giving you a brief, respectful nod.

Michael let go of your hand, his touch lingering in the empty space between you, before he gestured for you to step inside. You hesitated, just for a moment, your mind racing with second thoughts, but the exhaustion from your emotions made the decision for you. You slipped into the cool leather seat, the familiar scent of luxury filling your senses. Michael slid in beside you, and the door was quietly closed behind him, sealing you both inside the small, intimate space.

Without a word, he reached over and pulled the privacy screen shut, his long fingers steady and deliberate. It was something he had always been particular about—privacy, especially when it came to you. He didn't want the world prying into moments like these, moments that felt too raw, too personal for anyone else to witness.

For a few beats, silence hung in the air, thick and heavy between you. The hum of the car's engine barely registered in the back of your mind, drowned out by the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The weight of everything—the betrayal, the hurt, the confusion—sat like a stone in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur as the car began to move, but even the distraction of the outside world couldn't quiet the ache inside you.

Michael shifted beside you, his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you refused to meet his eyes. You weren't ready, not yet. The thought of confronting everything he had done—everything he had ruined—was too much. You could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body tensed as if he wanted to reach out to you, to fix what had been broken, but he held back. He knew better than to push you right now.

Finally, the silence broke, his voice soft, almost pleading. "I know you're hurting," he said, his tone careful, measured, as if afraid to say the wrong thing. "And I know I'm the one who caused it. But if you give me a chance... just one chance... I'll explain everything. I owe you that much."

You didn't say anything, your mind racing with a thousand different thoughts, none of them offering any clarity. A part of you wanted to scream, to tell him that no explanation could fix what he had done. But another part, a smaller, quieter part, still yearned for the Michael you had once known—the Michael who made you feel loved, cherished, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

He reached for your hand again, his fingers brushing against yours with a tentative touch, but this time, you pulled away, folding your arms tightly across your chest as if trying to protect yourself from the vulnerability that came with being near him.

The limo continued to glide through the streets, its quiet hum the only sound between you. Minutes stretched on, and the weight of everything unsaid felt suffocating. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you do it, Michael?" You didn't look at him, your eyes still fixed on the window. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Michael's hand reached out, gentle yet insistent, turning your face toward him. His touch was familiar, tender, and his gaze was pleading. "You are enough," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with an intensity that cut through the silence. "Every bit of you is enough. Enough for me."

For a moment, your eyes met his, and in that brief exchange, you saw the sincerity—the regret—etched into his features. But it wasn't enough. You pushed his hand away, your gaze falling back to the cityscape outside the window, the lights blurring into streaks of color. "I don't feel like it," you murmured, barely loud enough to be heard. "If I was enough, you wouldn't have kissed her."

His breath hitched, and you could hear the quiet shake in his voice as he responded, "She kissed me. It wasn't meant to happen. She didn't stick to the script. I only went along with it because... because I didn't want to embarrass her. But deep down, I wanted to push her away. I should have pushed her away."

You turned further from him, the weight of his words doing little to ease the ache inside your chest. "You should have," you whispered, the bitterness of it lingering on your tongue. The image of him with her, of their lips meeting, replayed in your mind, a loop that wouldn't stop. How could he not see the damage it had done?

"Baby, I wasn't going to embarrass her," he said, his voice growing more desperate as he reached out again, this time resting his hand gently on your thigh. The touch sent a shockwave through you—his warmth seeping through the thin, delicate fabric of the red satin dress he had chosen for you. "But I knew I messed up the moment you walked out that night."

You didn't respond. Your silence spoke louder than words. The flood of emotions that had been brewing within you—rage, hurt, betrayal—clashed violently with the part of you that still ached for him, that still longed for the man sitting beside you.

Michael withdrew his hand from your thigh, his fingers curling into a fist as he turned his gaze away, his expression one of defeat. You could sense his guilt, the deep regret that radiated from him. He was lost in the silence, unsure of how to make things right.

But then, without fully understanding why, you reached out, your hand hovering for a moment before gently covering his. The warmth of his skin beneath yours was a reminder of everything you had shared—the love, the intimacy, the trust. It wasn't a solution, not yet, but it was something.

Michael's head turned slowly toward you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find hope. When he saw your hand resting over his, his gaze softened. He didn't say anything, didn't dare break the fragile peace that seemed to settle between you. Instead, he turned his hand over, his fingers intertwining with yours, holding you tightly, as though afraid to let go.

In that moment, it wasn't forgiveness—not yet. But it was a step. One small step toward something that felt like it could be mended, if only you could both find the strength to rebuild what had been broken.

The limo coasted to a stop in front of the Helmsley Hotel, a place that once held memories of fleeting happiness and painful betrayal. The hotel's grand entrance loomed before you, a reminder of the night you had fled, desperate to escape the life you thought you'd be leaving behind. Yet, here you were again, back in the same place, back with the same man who refused to let you go. Michael wasn't going to let you slip away—not this time.

The door opened, and Michael stepped out first, his hand extending toward you. His grip was firm yet gentle, pulling you close to him as you both walked toward the hotel's towering doors. Inside, the rich red and gold decor filled the lobby, the marble floors gleaming beneath the soft lighting. Each step echoed in the space around you, the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders.

Michael's hand remained on the small of your back as you approached the elevator. He pressed the button with a deliberate touch, the soft light glowing beneath his finger, a subtle reminder of the path ahead. You glanced down at your feet, the polished tips of your heels reflecting the tension you felt building inside. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a small gesture meant to comfort you, but it only reminded you of the ache still lodged deep in your chest.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding, the polished interior welcoming you inside. Michael stepped back, letting you enter first before following closely behind. He pressed the button for the top floor—the floor where his suite awaited—and the doors closed, sealing the two of you in together. The only sound that filled the space was the low hum of sensual jazz, its smooth notes creating an intimate backdrop for the tension that lingered between you.

Without a word, Michael moved closer, his arms encircling your waist from behind, pulling you against his chest. His hands rested gently on your front, holding you as though afraid to let you drift too far. You felt the warmth of his breath against your neck, his steady breathing grounding you in the moment.

You glanced down at his hands, resting atop yours. His thumb grazed over your engagement ring, the one you had nearly taken off that night—the night you'd left him. It felt heavy now, a symbol of something you weren't sure you could still hold onto. Yet, in his touch, there was familiarity, a longing that whispered of the connection you both shared despite the pain.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing the hallway to his suite. Michael loosened his hold on you but kept your hand firmly in his as you both stepped out, walking in silence down the plush carpeted hall. His grip tightened just slightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your palm as you reached the door. He pulled the key card from his pocket and slid it into the lock, the soft click echoing in the quiet corridor. The door opened, and he let you step inside first, flipping the switch to bathe the suite in a soft, dim glow.

He followed behind, closing the door with a soft thud, the sound of the lock turning a subtle reminder of the privacy now surrounding you both. You walked across the room, your heels sinking into the plush carpet as you approached the tall glass windows. Outside, the city of New York stretched before you, the night alive with lights and movement, a stark contrast to the stillness you felt inside.

Michael stood back, watching you. He didn't want to disturb the fragile peace, his gaze lingering on your silhouette as you stared out at the city. You heard his soft footsteps retreat, but the tension between you remained thick, unspoken.

"Michael..." your voice was barely a whisper, the sound cutting through the stillness.

He stopped, turning back toward you, his eyes searching yours. "Yes?"

"I—" You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. You glanced back out at the city lights, the answer to your question lost somewhere in the blur of emotions. "Never mind," you murmured, turning away from him again.

Michael's sigh was heavy, weighted with regret and weariness as he took a step toward you. Each movement felt deliberate, as if he feared that closing the physical space between you might shatter the fragile calm. The soft rustle of his clothes brushed against the silence of the room, but it couldn't bridge the emotional chasm that now lay between you both—vast, like an ocean neither of you knew how to cross.

"You can talk to me," he murmured, his voice low and earnest, as if he was trying to coax out the words you were holding back. "You can say anything you need. I know you're mad. Frustrated. Angry. Upset. You have every right to be." His hand hovered for a moment before it gently brushed against yours, tentative, like he was afraid you'd pull away.

When your eyes finally met his, the tears that had welled up moments before threatened to spill over. His eyes softened, dark and pained, pleading in a way that unsettled you. It wasn't just the guilt—it was the rawness, the fragility you weren't used to seeing in him. And for a second, it almost cracked the walls you'd built.

"I mean it, deep down with everything I have, I swear to you—" His voice wavered as if the truth was burning him from the inside out. "I didn't want to kiss her. It wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't stick to the script. I had to fire her. She's off the tour, I made sure of it." His voice held the weight of a promise, but you weren't sure if you believed it anymore. Could promises still matter when trust had been shattered?

You looked at him, your gaze trying to pierce through the layers of his words, searching his face, his eyes, for something—anything—to tell you if he was telling the truth. His eyes, wide and glistening, held that familiar warmth, the warmth that once made you feel safe, but now felt distant, like a memory you couldn't quite grasp.

You let out a sigh, heavy and exhausted, your gaze drifting back to the window. The city lights blurred behind your tears, a mess of color and light reflecting the turmoil inside you. Michael stood there for a moment longer, watching you, before he reached out again—this time, his hand found your chin, the touch tender yet firm as he turned your face back to his.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was quieter now, more fragile, as though he was treading on dangerous ground.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tension in your throat as you tried to suppress the anger that threatened to spill over. "What?" Your voice came out sharper than you intended, but you couldn't help it. The weight of your hurt clung to every word.

He held your gaze, not backing down. "Do you trust me?"

Silence. The question hung in the air between you, thick and suffocating. You didn't answer, couldn't answer. Trust? How could he ask that now, after everything?

He stepped back slightly, his voice even softer now. "If you don't, I'll leave you be. But I need to know... do you trust me?"

The words stung. Part of you wanted to scream that you didn't, that he'd lost that right when he let her lips touch his. But something inside, something small and wounded, still wanted to believe him. "I trust you," you whispered, the words feeling both true and false all at once.

Michael took a small breath, relief flickering in his eyes, but you weren't done. "Look at me," he said, his tone a little firmer now, pulling you out of your thoughts. His hand, still on your chin, tilted your face just enough so your eyes met his fully.

"Do you still love me?" His voice cracked ever so slightly, and you saw the tears begin to well up in his eyes, though he fought to keep them from falling. His vulnerability was heartbreaking, but the question cut too deep.

Your hand fell from his, your body going cold as the gravity of his question hit you. It wasn't just about trust—it was about everything. Love, broken promises, the future you once saw together, now clouded with doubt.

Michael blinked rapidly, trying to push back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Please don't do this," he whispered, his voice shaky and desperate. "Tell me you still love me. Tell me you still want to be my wife." His words came out in a rush, like he was afraid if he stopped speaking, the silence would swallow him whole.

Your throat tightened, the lump there almost unbearable. Your heart pounded in your chest, the rhythm erratic and painful. You did love him—you couldn't deny that, even if you wanted to. Every piece of you, every broken part, still loved him. Even the pieces that hurt the most.

But the question wasn't whether you loved him—it was whether you could move past this, whether you could still be the woman who stood by his side, the woman who once trusted him so completely.

The air between you felt thick, almost suffocating, as you took a step back. Michael's desperation was palpable, his movements quick as he closed the distance you tried to create. "Do you still love me?" His voice cracked, raw with emotion. "I will get down on my knees and beg!" The intensity in his eyes made your chest tighten, and for a split second, you saw him lower himself, his knees threatening to meet the floor.

"Don't do that," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm enough to stop him. You took another step back, instinctively, as if space could shield you from the weight of his plea. But Michael wasn't giving up. He moved closer, his presence overwhelming, and before you could retreat further, his hand caught yours.

His fingers wrapped around your hand, holding on as if he feared you might disappear if he let go. "Tell me you still love me, please..." The way his voice wavered, like a man on the edge of losing everything, sent a shiver through you. "Baby, please!" His grip tightened, his words almost echoing off the walls of the suite, as though he needed the room itself to hear his cry for mercy.

Your eyes drifted to where your hands were intertwined, his large, calloused fingers enveloping yours. You felt the tremor in his hand, the desperation coursing through him. Slowly, your thumb brushed over his knuckles, tracing the familiar ridges and veins, grounding yourself in that simple touch. When your gaze met his, the raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly unraveled you.

"I-I still love you," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips, but they carried the weight of your heart.

Michael's face softened, but the wariness lingered in his gaze. He wasn't sure yet, wasn't certain if you meant it fully, and you could see the question hovering in his eyes. "Do you mean it?" His voice was soft, almost afraid to hear the answer.

You nodded, feeling the burn of unshed tears in your throat. "I do. I-I could never stop loving you. Not even the bones in my body could stop loving you." The words flowed softly from you, but they felt heavy, laced with the depth of the love that still lingered, even after everything.

Relief washed over Michael, and he stepped even closer, his body just inches from yours now, the warmth radiating off him in waves. "Do you forgive me?" The question lingered in the air, heavy and full of hope.

You hesitated only a moment before nodding. "I forgive you," you said softly, feeling the weight of the words lift from your chest as you released them.

Michael exhaled a long, shaky breath, like a man who had been holding it for far too long. "You still my girl?" His voice was tender now, searching for the reassurance that you were still his, that he hadn't lost you completely.

You met his gaze, your heart swelling with emotion. "I'm still yours," you whispered, the truth of it ringing in the space between you.

Michael's hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. "I love you," he murmured, his voice full of sincerity, each word wrapped in the emotion he could barely contain.

You couldn't help but smile, the corners of your lips lifting softly. "I love you," you replied, the words a balm to the cracks in both your hearts.

He moved even closer, his breath warm against your skin, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Can I kiss you?" His voice was playful now, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though the intensity in his eyes never wavered.

A soft laugh escaped you, shaking your head lightly. "You don't have to ask me that. You can kiss me," you teased, the lightness between you returning for the first time in what felt like forever.

Michael chuckled, the sound low and warm. "I wanted to ask first," he teased, leaning in just a little more. "I don't need you biting my head off." His words were playful, but the look in his eyes was one of deep, unwavering affection. He wasn't just asking for a kiss—he was asking for the chance to heal.

Your lips curled into a faint smile as you closed the remaining distance between you, your breath brushing against his. "I wouldn't bite your head off," you whispered, your voice soft yet teasing, "unless this took a completely different turn. You should be lucky your mother saved your ass." You moved even closer, feeling the heat of his body wrap around yours like a warm blanket, grounding you both in that moment of vulnerability.

Michael wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush against him as his forehead rested gently against yours. "She told you, didn't she?" His voice was low, laced with guilt, yet there was a tenderness to it that tugged at your heart.

You nodded slightly, feeling his breath mingle with yours. "She did," you whispered. "But I didn't want to hear it from her. I needed to hear it from the man who put this ring on my finger and promised to love me."

His lips hovered just over yours, brushing against them softly, barely a touch, but it sent a wave of warmth coursing through your veins. "I do love you. All of you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he finally closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender, yet filled with the desperation of a man trying to make amends.

His lips were warm, soft, and comforting, moving with a gentle urgency that conveyed everything words couldn't. He kissed you deeply, pouring everything he had into that moment, as if trying to kiss away the pain, the hurt, the doubt. You felt your body melt against his, the tension in your muscles unraveling as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

As the kiss deepened, you felt your legs grow weak beneath you, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his affection. With a practiced ease, Michael scooped you up into his arms, cradling you as if you were the most precious thing in his world. Your lips never parted as he carried you, the soft click of his shoes echoing in the suite as he led you both down the hallway.

You kicked off your heels, the soft thuds as they scattered across the floor barely registering in your mind. All you could focus on was him—his warmth, his touch, the way his lips continued to claim yours with a passion that left you breathless.

Michael nudged open the bedroom door with a soft kick, closing it with another, the quiet click of the door signaling the intimacy of the moment. He walked over to the bed, laying you down with a gentleness that belied the intensity of the kiss still lingering on your lips. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his body hovering over yours as you sank into the plush mattress.

His hand roamed your arms, fingers trailing over your soft skin, igniting a fire everywhere he touched. Slowly, he reached for the straps of your dress, pulling them down with deliberate care, his lips never leaving yours. You lifted your arms, letting the dress slide off, pooling in a rich, crimson stain on the floor, leaving you bare save for the delicate lace of your black panties.

Michael's lips moved from yours, trailing down your cheek and along your neck, each kiss sending a shiver of pleasure through you. His breath was hot against your skin as he found the pulse point at your throat, sucking gently, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. The intoxicating mix of your pheromones and the familiar scent of your skin only spurred him on, heightening the moment as his kisses grew more fervent.

Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft curls as you let out a quiet gasp. He pressed his body against yours, the heat between you almost unbearable, and yet, you craved more. The way his lips worshipped your skin, the way his hands explored every inch of you—it was as if he was trying to memorize you, to make up for every wrong with each kiss, each touch.

With each breath, each kiss that grazed your skin, Michael was more than just a reminder of the love you shared—he was a force pulling you deeper into that connection, a tether to something unbreakable, even in the face of all your doubts. His lips moved like a soft whisper, trailing reverently down the curve of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. As his mouth traveled lower, the ache in your chest, the heaviness of the past few days, began to unravel, replaced by the overwhelming presence of him—of the man you could never stop loving, no matter how hard you tried.

Michael paused at your chest, kissing delicately down the valley between your breasts before continuing his descent. His movements were unhurried, savoring every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. When he reached your stomach, his breath warm against your skin, he shed his red blazer in a single fluid motion, the soft rustle of fabric hitting the floor echoing faintly in the room. The air felt charged between you, a silent promise hanging in the space as his lips continued downward, inch by inch, until they found the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen.

His teeth grazed the waistband of your panties, latching onto the delicate fabric as he slowly, teasingly, tugged them down your legs. The sensation was tantalizing, every movement deliberate and filled with purpose. You felt the cool air brush against your bare skin as the lace fell away, pooling on the floor beneath you. Now, you were laid completely bare before him, vulnerable and exposed in a way that left your heart racing, but trusting him entirely.

Michael's hands found your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle as he guided your legs back toward your chest, your knees brushing softly against your skin. He kissed along your inner thighs with a tenderness that nearly undid you, each press of his lips a silent declaration of his love, his devotion. The heat of his mouth sent shivers up your spine, a delicious contrast to the cool air of the room, and your body instinctively arched toward him, seeking more of his touch.

"Michael..." you breathed, the sound barely a whisper, your voice heavy with longing. You could feel the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his attention fully focused on you, on pleasing you, on reminding you that his love had never wavered.

With slow, measured care, he spread your legs wider, revealing the most intimate part of yourself to him. His eyes darkened with desire as he kissed the soft skin around your center, brushing his lips against your folds in a way that made your breath hitch. The anticipation coiled tightly in your core, your entire body attuned to every movement he made.

When his tongue flicked out, tasting the arousal that had already begun to glisten on your skin, a shuddering moan escaped your lips. "Oh God," you gasped, your head falling back against the pillows, fingers tangling in the sheets as pleasure rippled through you.

Michael's fingers slid between your folds, his touch firm yet tender as he parted them, exposing you fully to him. His tongue found your clit with an expert precision, flicking it in quick, teasing motions that made you gasp for breath, your body instinctively arching into him. He sucked gently on the sensitive nub, his lips moving with practiced ease, as if worshipping the very core of your pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight with the intensity of it.

His tongue moved lower, dipping into your entrance, thrusting slowly in and out as he tasted you, the warmth of your walls clenching around him with every movement. The sensation of his tongue exploring you, combined with the rhythmic strokes on your clit, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, building with each passing second.

"Don't stop," you begged, your voice breathless, desperate, as your fingers found their way into his hair. You tugged gently, not wanting to hurt him but needing something to hold onto as your body teetered on the edge of release.

Michael groaned softly against you, the vibration sending another shock of pleasure through your core. He doubled down, flicking his tongue with more intensity over your clit while thrusting it deeper inside you, his lips moving in perfect rhythm. The pressure was building, an inferno in your belly, and you could feel yourself spiraling toward release, your hips beginning to move in time with his mouth, chasing that edge, that moment of bliss that was so close you could taste it.

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling in rapid succession as the pleasure built with a tantalizing intensity. Your body trembled, hips instinctively grinding against his face, chasing that elusive release he was masterfully guiding you toward. The tension in your core twisted tighter, every nerve electrified, every sensation amplified as you teetered on the edge of bliss.

Michael's fingers slid inside you with ease, his middle and ring fingers curling just right, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. His tongue, slick and warm, moved back to your clit, the soft flicks sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. His pace was steady, controlled, each movement deliberate as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your arousal coating them in a glistening sheen.

He rested his head against your left thigh, the warmth of his breath fanning across your skin, grounding you in the moment. His tongue moved lazily over your sensitive nub, each slow flick driving you mad with need. He was edging you, teasing you with the slow, deliberate pace, keeping you right on the precipice without allowing you to fall over.

"Michael, I'm so close," you moaned, your voice trembling with desperation, your body arching toward him, begging for release.

But instead of giving you what you craved, he slowed down. His fingers moved inside you with an agonizing slowness, his tongue tracing languid circles over your clit, drawing out the moment. The tension in your core tightened even further, the pleasure building but never quite reaching that peak. He was toying with you, pushing you to the brink and pulling you back, and it was driving you wild.

"Michael, please!" you whimpered, your voice raw with need, your fingers digging into the sheets as you writhed beneath him, desperate for more.

He lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and molten with desire. Those big, brown eyes—eyes that had always held you captive—drew you in even deeper, pulling you into the depths of his love and passion. His gaze was intense, filled with a hunger that matched your own, but beneath it all was the tenderness that had always made your heart ache for him.

"Mmm, you taste so good, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His tongue flicked lazily over your clit again, drawing another desperate moan from your lips.

"Michael... please, I want to cum," you begged, the words tumbling out in a breathless plea. Your body was trembling, your thighs shaking with the effort of holding back, your core burning with the need for release.

A small, wicked smile tugged at his lips as he curled his fingers inside you again, pressing deeper, finding that sweet spot with precision. You gasped, your entire body shuddering as pleasure flooded through you, your walls clenching around his fingers. His tongue resumed its slow, torturous rhythm on your clit, flicking over it with deliberate care, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Let go for me," he whispered against your skin, his voice barely audible but filled with command, "I want to feel you fall apart."

With that, he curved his fingers even more, pressing into that perfect spot inside you while his tongue picked up speed, flicking and swirling over your sensitive nub. Your body jolted, every muscle tensing as the pleasure built to a breaking point. You were so close—too close.

And then, with one final flick of his tongue, everything snapped.

A wave of euphoria crashed over you, your body convulsing as you came undone beneath him. You cried out, your back arching off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair as your release washed over you in powerful waves. Your walls clenched around his fingers, your thighs trembling as the pleasure consumed you, white-hot and overwhelming.

Michael didn't stop, his fingers and tongue continuing their relentless assault, drawing out your orgasm until you were a quivering, trembling mess beneath him. He coaxed every last bit of pleasure from your body, his touch firm but gentle, his mouth worshipping you as you rode the high.

Finally, when you could take no more, your body spent and trembling, he slowed down, his fingers slipping out of you with a wet sound as he kissed his way back up your body. His lips brushed softly against your skin, each kiss tender and loving, a contrast to the intensity of the pleasure he had just given you.

He hovered above you, his breath warm against your cheek as he looked down at you with that same, unwavering affection. "I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity.

You smiled up at him, still breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your body continued to hum with the aftershocks of pleasure. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice soft but heavy with meaning, your heart swelling with the fullness of the moment.

Michael's dark eyes never left yours as he stood straight, the intensity in his gaze making the room feel smaller, the air thicker with anticipation. Slowly, he began unbuttoning his black shirt, each flick of his fingers deliberate, almost torturously slow, revealing the smooth expanse of his bare chest beneath. Your eyes followed every motion, captivated by the way his muscles shifted under his skin, the light catching on the sheen of sweat that still lingered from earlier.

He shrugged the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor without care. The fabric barely made a sound as it crumpled at his feet, but the sight of him standing there, shirtless, was enough to steal the breath from your lungs. His hands moved to his belt, the soft click of metal as he unbuckled it echoing in the quiet room. The leather slid from the loops with a quiet hiss before joining the shirt on the floor with a muted thud, forgotten in the heat of the moment.

You shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed, your pulse quickening as you watched him with wide eyes. Michael didn't say a word as he reached out, his large hands wrapping gently around your waist as he pulled you to your feet, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. The moment his lips met yours, the world around you melted away. The kiss was deep, fervent, full of passion, his lips moving against yours as if they were searching for something, something only you could give him.

A soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by the kiss, as his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The heat of his body, the firmness of his chest against you—it was intoxicating. You could feel the pulse of his need radiating from him, mirrored in the way your own body responded.

Your hands found the waistband of his pants, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned them. The sound of the zipper lowering was lost in the fervor of the moment. With practiced ease, you slid the pants down, but before you could go any further, Michael caught your hand, guiding it beneath the waistband of his briefs. The heat of him was startling, the hardness unmistakable as your fingers wrapped around him, feeling him pulse and grow under your touch.

A shiver ran through you, your pulse quickening as the kiss deepened, your lips moving in a frantic dance of passion. You backed Michael up, the two of you moving in sync, until his back met the wall with a soft thud. He pulled away from the kiss, his breath coming in harsh pants, his forehead resting against yours as he gazed into your eyes.

"I love you," he whispered, the words rough and raw, filled with all the emotions that had been building between you.

Your eyes flicked from his lips, now swollen from the kiss, to his eyes, dark and full of longing. "I love you," you whispered back, your voice barely more than a breath as you gave his hardened shaft a teasing squeeze.

Michael's breath hitched, his hand coming up to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned in, capturing your lips again in a slow, sensual kiss. The intensity of it sent a jolt of electricity down your spine, and before you knew it, he was guiding you back toward the bed. Your body gave way to the soft mattress, the sheets cool against your skin as you collapsed onto it, your breath coming in short gasps as you watched him shed the rest of his clothes.

The sight of him standing there, fully bare, took your breath away. His body was a masterpiece of lean muscle, every curve and line a testament to his years of dancing. His abs were defined, his skin smooth and glistening under the soft light. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, the slight sheen of sweat catching the light. But it was the way his hardened length stood thick and proud, the veins running along its length prominent and pulsing, that had your pulse racing.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with awe as he moved toward the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You shifted, dragging yourself up toward the headboard, watching as Michael climbed onto the bed, his movements slow, predatory. He hovered over you, his breath ghosting over your skin as he kissed his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Each kiss, each flick of his tongue, sent shivers racing through you, your body arching toward him, craving his touch.

When his lips reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, dark with desire. He placed a soft, lingering kiss against your folds, his breath warm against your skin. The sensation sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, your body trembling with anticipation.

Michael held his hardened length in his hand, stroking himself slowly, his eyes never leaving your face as he teased you with the sight of him. His tip was slick with precum, the thick skin pulling back with each stroke, revealing the sensitive head that glistened in the low light.

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips brushing over your stomach, your chest, until finally, they found your neck. His body pressed against yours, his warmth surrounding you, the weight of him a comforting presence as his lips found yours again.

You could feel the heat of his shaft against you, the swollen tip brushing teasingly over your slick folds, sending a pulse of raw desire coursing through your body. The anticipation was electric, the air between you humming with unspoken longing as his breath mingled with yours, every brush of his skin against yours a promise of what was to come.

The teasing glide of his tip against your entrance had your heart racing, your core tightening with every soft, deliberate movement. His gaze held yours, intense and unwavering, making you feel like the only person in the world.

"You ready?" His voice was deep, laced with both tenderness and need, as he continued to nudge himself against your entrance, his precum mixing with the wetness that had already begun to gather there. The slick friction of him against you made your breath catch in your throat, and you could only nod, the words barely able to form on your lips.

"Yes, Michael," you breathed, your voice soft, trembling with the weight of desire. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers threading through his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

Michael's hand moved with practiced ease, gently lifting your left leg and draping it over his shoulder, the position opening you up to him completely. The warmth of his body was overwhelming, the sheer size of him pressing into you making you shudder with anticipation. Slowly, carefully, he guided the tip of his length inside, his every movement deliberate as he stretched you, inch by agonizing inch.

You gasped, your head falling back against the pillow as he filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and exquisite. The stretch, the fullness of him inside you, made every nerve ending in your body come alive, your slick walls pulsing around him, adjusting to the invasion.

"Shh, relax, baby," he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. His eyes, dark and full of heat, flickered up to meet yours before dipping down, captivated by the sight of himself sinking deeper into your warmth. He took his time, easing in slowly, savoring every inch as your body stretched to accommodate him.

The feeling of being completely filled sent a shudder through you, your body tightening around him as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. The fullness, the delicious stretch of him inside you, was overwhelming, and yet, all you wanted was more. His slow movements in and out were almost torturous, dragging out the pleasure, making you hyperaware of every inch of him.

Your eyes followed his, both of you transfixed by the sight of your bodies joined so intimately. His thick shaft glistened with your arousal, every movement making it shine under the soft, dim light. The way he slid in and out of you, slow and steady, left a trail of slick wetness that only added to the growing intensity of the moment.

Michael's breath came in shallow gasps, his mouth hanging open slightly as he watched your bodies come together again and again. The look on his face, the pure, unfiltered desire, sent a thrill through you, your own breaths turning into soft, shaky moans. Each thrust, each pull, was deliberate, his hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm that had you climbing higher and higher.

He reached out, his hand cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The connection made your heart stutter, your body arching into his as he sank even deeper, the pressure building inside you unbearable in the most delicious way. Your moans were muffled against his lips, the sound of them only making him chuckle low in his throat.

He broke the kiss, his lips hovering inches from yours as he whispered, "You feel so good, baby."

And then, he went deeper, pushing past the point of teasing, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur, your body jerking in response. A cry escaped you, your hand flying to his abdomen, fingers splaying against the hard planes of his stomach in an attempt to steady yourself. But the truth was, you didn't want him to stop; if anything, you wanted more. Needed more.

Michael's chuckle was dark, knowing, his hand slipping from your face to your waist, holding you firmly as he thrust deeper, his pace still slow but each movement precise, deliberate. The tension was coiling tighter inside you, the heat building with every second. You could feel the pressure mounting, every nerve in your body on fire as you teetered on the edge, waiting for that final push.

"More, Michael," you pleaded, the need in your voice thick and trembling, your nails pressing into his skin with desperation. Every inch of your body was taut, straining toward the release you craved, but Michael was in control, holding you just at the edge.

"You want more?" His breath was hot and teasing against your lips, his deep voice vibrating through your chest. You nodded eagerly, your body arching into him, but Michael's dark chuckle made your heart flutter with both frustration and desire.

"I'm taking my time tonight, baby," he murmured, the words a slow, deliberate promise as his hips rocked forward again, his thrusts measured, almost torturous. "I'm not rushing anything."

A gasp tore from your lips as he pushed deeper, his tip brushing against your cervix with each precise movement, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your muscles tensed, clinging to him even tighter, your breaths coming out in ragged, desperate pants.

"Michael..." you gasped, your voice a broken whisper as you held onto him like a lifeline, his warmth and weight grounding you amidst the overwhelming sensations.

His lips found the crook of your neck, soft and slow as he pressed tender kisses against your skin, the heat of his body melding with yours as he shifted, pressing deeper, stretching you further. Your leg still rested over his shoulder, his grip on your waist firm but gentle, pulling you even closer.

Each thrust was slow, deliberate, designed to make you feel every inch of him. It was maddening—the way he held back, savoring the moment, pouring all of his unspoken emotions into the rhythm of his hips. This wasn't just about pleasure—it was about making up for everything, about showing you just how much you meant to him. The love and regret hung between every breath, every deep plunge inside of you.

"Oh god, Michael..." you moaned, your voice cracking as your nails dragged down his back, leaving faint marks in your wake. His name was a soft plea, a prayer, whispered against his ear. The sound seemed to ignite something in him, urging him on, though his pace remained maddeningly slow, each thrust a steady, rhythmic beat like the pulse of a heart.

Your bodies were slick where they met, a sheen of sweat and arousal coating both of you, making the friction both unbearable and intoxicating. You could feel every inch of him, the thickness of his shaft stretching you to your limit, his tip pressing against all the right spots. Each slow retreat left you aching for more, but when he filled you again, it was like he was made to fit perfectly inside of you, his length pulsing in time with your own heartbeat.

He could feel the way your walls clenched around him, slick and hot, gripping him tighter with every slow thrust. The pressure inside of you was building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap with each deliberate movement of his hips.

"Tell me what you want, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it as his hand cupped your chin gently, forcing you to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were filled with heat, with the need to hear you say it.

You moaned in response, unable to form words as his lips trailed over your neck, each kiss sending jolts of pleasure down your spine. His hips continued their slow, devastating rhythm, driving you mad with need. "Tell me," he coaxed again, his voice low and rough, a command hidden within the soft plea.

"I want you," you finally gasped, your voice broken and breathless, your body trembling beneath him. "All of you," you moaned, your words spilling out between labored breaths.

Michael's lips brushed against your ear, a soft kiss filled with reverence and need. "You have all of me," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Everything." His words were a vow, one that made your heart swell as his hands gripped you tighter.

Your nails dug into his back, pulling him closer, your moans vibrating against his skin. He responded with a deep groan of his own, his body pressing harder into yours as he buried his face in the curve of your neck. His tongue flicked out, teasing your skin, before his lips latched onto your throat, sucking gently but firmly, his intention clear. He wanted to mark you, to claim you all over again, as if the love you shared could somehow be stamped into your skin.

His slow, deep thrusts had you teetering on the edge, your core burning with the need for release. The tension inside you was unbearable, your body trembling as the pressure mounted, threatening to break. You were so close, so desperately close, and he knew it. He could feel it in the way your walls clenched around him, could hear it in the breathless moans that escaped your lips.

Michael's lips hovered just above your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing as he whispered, "I can feel it, baby. You're so close. Just let go for me."

The sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine, the rumble of it vibrating through your core. You were on the edge, teetering on that precipice of pleasure that only he could push you over. "Michael, please..." Your voice cracked, laced with desperation, the heat in your body growing unbearable. You clawed at his skin, nails raking along his back in a silent, aching plea for more.

His mouth lingered at your neck, his breath teasing your sensitive skin, and his voice dripped with both power and tenderness. "What is it, beautiful? Tell me what you want."

You could barely breathe as you looked up into his eyes, pupils blown wide with need. "Harder," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to find the strength to speak. The tension between you was almost unbearable, a heavy, charged silence that echoed in the room.

For a moment, he just watched you, his dark, molten gaze searching your face, savoring every flicker of emotion. His slow, deliberate thrusts continued, each one calculated, driving you wild with the need for more. He was holding back, teasing you, savoring your frustration. Then, without warning, his pace changed. His hips snapped forward with a force that took your breath away, his body slamming into yours with raw, unbridled intensity.

The shock of it ripped a cry from your throat, the sound broken and jagged, your moans turning into desperate, breathless screams that echoed off the walls. His name left your lips in a shattered gasp, "Michael!" The sharp, rhythmic slapping of skin on skin filled the space, each powerful thrust driving him deeper, harder, shaking you to your very core.

His hand found your chin, gripping it possessively as he tilted your face upward, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was fire there—an intensity that left you breathless. He leaned down, his lips rough as they claimed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a possessive mark. Each kiss felt like a brand, a reminder of the connection, the tether that held you both together in this feverish moment.

"You feel that?" he whispered against your skin, his voice a deep, dark growl that sent a shudder through your body. "I can feel how close you are... just let go, baby. Let it out."

You tried to resist, tried to hold on to the last thread of control, but it was slipping, unraveling with every brutal thrust of his hips. Each time he moved inside you, he hit that perfect spot, the one that had your body trembling, your mind slipping into a haze of pleasure. The tension inside you snapped all at once, a white-hot wave crashing over you as your body shattered. You convulsed beneath him, your muscles tightening around him, your release coming in violent, uncontrollable spasms.

Your hands flew to his back, nails digging into his skin as you cried out, your voice lost in the storm of sensation. You could feel your own slickness coating him, your release mixing with his as he kept moving, unrelenting, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you.

"Oh, just like that," he groaned, his voice a low, guttural growl as he felt your body responding to him. The tight, pulsing grip of your walls drove him closer to the edge, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. His arms wrapped around you, holding you against him as his body tensed, the muscles in his back tightening under your hands.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled into you, his release coming in deep, shuddering waves. His moan was raw, broken, his breath ragged against your neck as he emptied himself inside you. Each pulse of him inside you sent another ripple of pleasure through your body, your walls milking him for every last drop, the heat of him flooding your core.

Michael collapsed against you, his body heavy as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath still ragged and uneven. He was still moving inside you, slow, languid thrusts as he rode out the last waves of his release. The sensation was overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him, utterly spent.

You could feel his seed seeping out of you, mingling with your own, slicking the insides of your thighs and the rumpled sheets beneath you. The air in the room was thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the aftermath of what you had just shared.

For a few long moments, the two of you just lay there, tangled together, the only sound the soft, heavy rhythm of your breathing. His heartbeat pounded against your chest, still racing, in sync with your own.

Slowly, Michael pulled out of you, his length slipping from your body with a wet, slick sound that left you trembling. He carefully lowered your leg from his shoulder, his hands trailing down your thigh, his touch soft, gentle in the aftermath. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver, your body feeling strangely empty without him inside you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your hip, then your stomach, working his way up to your chest, leaving a trail of tender kisses in his wake. Finally, his lips found yours again, capturing you in a deep, lingering kiss. "I love you," he whispered against your mouth, his voice rough with emotion. "More than anything."

Your body was too exhausted to respond, but you smiled softly, your heart swelling with the warmth of his words. He eased off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment before returning with a warm, damp washcloth. Gently, he wiped away the sweat and the sticky mess of your shared release, his movements slow and careful, full of love and tenderness.

Once he was done, he discarded the cloth and slid back into bed beside you, pulling the covers over both of your bodies. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his body soothing your trembling limbs.

His lips found your ear once more, brushing against your skin as his breath came in soft, warm waves. The simple, quiet intimacy of the moment felt profound as he whispered, "Hey."

You stirred in his arms, your body moving instinctively closer, seeking the comfort of his embrace. The bed felt like a sanctuary, the covers a cocoon around you both, holding you in this fragile moment. Your hand slipped out from beneath the blankets, your fingers trailing across his chest before coming up to his face. Your touch was gentle, delicate, as if you were tracing the very essence of him.

The room was bathed in a pale, silvery glow from the moonlight streaming through the window, casting soft shadows across his face. His strong features were softened by the light, the sharp lines of his jaw now gentle curves under your thumb as you traced the rough stubble there. His skin was warm, and you could feel the subtle tension in his muscles begin to relax as you caressed him.

"You mean it, right?" His voice was barely above a whisper now, the vulnerability in his tone raw and exposed in a way you didn't often hear. It trembled slightly, a hint of insecurity laced beneath the question. "You still love me?"

The weight of his words lingered in the air, fragile and heavy at the same time, like he was afraid of the answer despite knowing it deep in his heart. You nodded slowly, your fingers moving across his jaw, brushing lightly against the stubble that you loved so much. The texture beneath your fingertips grounded you in the moment, in the depth of your shared history.

"Always," you whispered, your voice quiet yet resolute, filled with all the love and assurance you could offer. The word hung between you, a promise as enduring as the years you'd spent together, filled with passion, struggle, and unwavering devotion.

A look of pure relief washed over his face, and his lips curved into a soft, almost shy smile that melted something deep inside of you. His dark eyes softened, the intensity in them easing as the tension that had been gripping his body finally released. He leaned in slowly, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, his nose brushing against yours in a gentle, playful gesture that was so quintessentially him.

Then, he closed the distance between you, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was achingly tender. It wasn't a kiss of passion or heat but one of love—deep, abiding love that spoke of shared memories, of moments when words weren't enough, of the bond that had grown stronger through every trial. His lips moved against yours slowly, reverently, sealing the love you both carried for one another, a love that had withstood time and trials, unshaken.

When he pulled back, the soft smile remained on his face, but his eyes held a spark of playful curiosity. "Good," he murmured, his lips grazing yours as he nuzzled against you, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a blanket. "Because I didn't want to lose you. I don't think I could handle that."

You smiled at him, the affection you felt bubbling up inside you, and pressed your forehead against his. The closeness between you felt magnetic, an unbreakable bond drawing you together. The warmth of his skin, the scent of him, the sound of his breath—it was all so familiar, so comforting. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, beating in time with yours.

"You never will," you murmured softly, your voice a gentle promise that you both knew was true. Your fingers traced the shape of his lips before resting on his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble beneath your palm. "But, like I said, thank your mother. She was a big help in all this."

Michael let out a quiet chuckle, the sound rich and warm, and his smile grew. The tension that had been hanging between you seemed to melt away completely, replaced by a sense of peace and lightness. He leaned in even closer, his nose brushing yours again in a playful, teasing gesture.

"Yeah, I guess I owe her one," he replied, his voice still low, but filled with affection and gratitude.

Before you could say anything more, he closed the distance between you again, this time with a kiss that was deeper, more intentional. His lips moved against yours with a gentle firmness, conveying everything that words couldn't—the gratitude, the devotion, the love that had claimed you both so completely over the years. There was something timeless about the way he kissed you, like each kiss was a reaffirmation of what you had, of what you would continue to build together.

As he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. The love that tethered you both was palpable, an invisible thread woven through years of memories, trials, and triumphs. And in that moment, in the quiet darkness, you both knew that it was a love that would last—still strong, still meant to be.

#michael jackson #wattpad #moonwalker #mjf fanfiction #writing #badera #imagine #mjj

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 1 year

Note

Hey so I just found your account and omg?? it's literally so amazing 😭✋

Anyways-I was just looking through a bunch of the twist monster au headcannons/stories, and I thought of a scenario that could be done!

Basically the cast reacting to gender neutral or female reader/yuu acting stuff out in their book they are reading like poses, dialogue, just genuine reactions to the text itself

ex. Throwing the book across the room and them being genuinely concerned that something happened bc reader is just staring off into space or cursing but what actually happened was either a character died/did something embarrassing/the mc and love interest finally kiss

Anyways that's all I had in mind hope you have a good day/night! <3

Omg thank you! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the content! QvQ

Ah, books. Such a wonderful creation humans made to fill us with raw, pure emotion or shattering our hearts and souls into a million tiny pieces—only for us to read it again and again! Don’t you just love those moments as a reader? UvU

Except for cliffhangers. Readers have a love/hate relationship with it, writers adore cliffhangers! ÒvÓ

So, what happens if we take a bookreader!Yuu (they/them) and throw them into Twisted Monsterland where even the history books read like a world guide/omnibus to a game or TV series? Oh, and I took a bit of inspiration from a Disney princess comic and a Bill Watterson “Calvin and Hobbes” comic for two of these scenarios. 😂

/-----------/

“Jeez, you sure you’ve got enough books, Yuu?”

“The librarian wouldn’t let me check out more than ten at a time,” Yuu replied, their backpack and arms filled with thick books. “Wish I could’ve gotten ten more at least, but this’ll do for now.”

“Are you sure you can even read all those before next semester?” Deuce asked in concern. “Those look pretty…dense.”

“Oh, I’ll be done in a week. Maybe a week and a half if we get a lot of homework.”

“Funya?! You gotta be kidding me!” Grim said. “Can humans read that fast?”

“Not everyone. Some people are slow readers, but that’s okay since they enjoy it at their own pace while I enjoy it at mine. Only problem for me is choosing which one of these I want to read first!”

/Later that night/

“Yuu? It’s time to eat!” Grim called out. Silence greeted him as he stared at Yuu, who was sitting on the couch with their face practically buried in a book. Frowning, the chimera padded over to the couch and repeated, “Yuu! I’m hungry!”

Still the human didn’t seem to respond, their shoulders hunching as they turned the page.

“Yuu? Yuu!” Huffing, Grim crossed his arms as he glared up at them. “You’ve been reading for the past three hours! How much longer are you gonna read that book?”

“What’s going on, pal?” one of the ghosts asked as the trio appeared.

Gesturing his paws at Yuu, he said, “They’ve been reading ever since we got back from the library today, and now they’re not reactin’ to me. It’s dinner time and they haven’t made any food yet!”

Before anyone could even think of what to say, a loud, shrill squeal filled the dorm.

“Eeeeeee!!!” Yuu squealed, a huge grin on their face as they flopped to the side and kicked their legs like a nervous rabbit while holding the book against their chest. “Omg it happened, it happened!!”

“Mrah!? What?! What happened?!” Grim yelled, wings flared out defensively while his fur bristled. “Why are you yelling!”

“My new OTP!! They finally kissed!!” Yuu said, their eyes wide as they rocked from side to side. “They kissed!! Yes!! Yesyesyesyesyessssss!!!”

“OTP? What’s an OTP??” one of the other ghosts asked.

“It’s what we like to call the ‘one true pairing’ in a story,” Yuu explained, a positively giddy expression on their face with eyes shining brighter than the stars as they struck a dramatic pose. “It’s two characters who vibe with each other on a level that you just can’t help but want them to be together—and the author brought these two together!! Yeeeeeeeee, I’m so happy!!”

“And loud,” Grim grumbled, paws clamped over his ears. “Why are you standing like that?”

“It’s how the main character professed their love for the other!”

“…are all humans as weird as you?”

“Trust me, there are people out there that are way crazier in their excitement than I am right now.”

“Really?!”

“Oh yeah. Don’t even get me started on the fanfics people write.”

“Fan…fics?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child…”

/Two days later/

“Heeeey, lil’ Shrimpy~!”

“Mm…”

“Eh…? Hey, Shrimp…why are you ignorin’ us? It’s not very nice.”

“Now, now, Floyd. One mustn’t interrupt a reader when they’re indulging in such a riveting story.”

“Shh,” Yuu muttered, their brow furrowed as they hunched closer to the book. “I’m at the best part!”

Floyd frowned as he laid his head on his arms, the basilisk slumping against the table. “Man, this is lame,” he said. “You promised to come play basketball with me today!”

“Once I finish this part, we can go do whatever you want, okay, Floyd?”

Jade hummed in amusement as he said, “A rather daring proposition you just offered, Yuu.”

“We have to do a buncha reading for class anyway,” Floyd said with a bored expression. “And Crabby and Mackerel said you finished two other books already, so what’s the point of thi-”

“AAAAIIIIIEEEEE!!?!?” Yuu shrieked, leaping out of their chair as Jade and Floyd recoiled in shock. Before the twins could react, Yuu had ducked back into their chair and pressed the book even closer to their face than before.

“…lemmie see that,” Floyd said, leaning over the table to grab it.

“No, no! It’s fine, go do something else!” Yuu said all too quickly, sinking even lower and turning away from Floyd’s reaching claws. “I think I heard Riddle in the hallway.”

“Lemmie see it!”

“No! You can’t read it!” Yuu cried out, bolting away from the table holding the book tight to their chest.

“Get back here, Shrimpy!”

“Noooo!!”

“Oh my,” Jade uttered, eyes wide for a moment before he chuckled. “Perhaps I should look into this book when they’ve finished it.”

/The next day/

“Oh no…oooh noooooo, I hate this so much!”

“Then why are you reading it?” Jamil asked, the naga curled around them. “If you don’t like it, just take it back to the library.”

“I can’t! It’s soooooo good!” Yuu said, practically throwing themselves backwards onto Jamil’s snake half with the book pressed against their face.

“Eh? But wait, you just said you hated it,” Kalim said in confusion.

“I hate it, but I love it so much,” Yuu told them with a whine, their head now touching the floor on the other side of Jamil’s snake body yet still draped over him like a cat. “This book will ruin your heart and shatter your soul into a million pieces!...you should read it too!”

“Given how dramatic you’re being, it might not be wise,” Jamil said with a sigh.

“Read it!”

“It’s okay, Yuu. We can read together! It’ll be more fun that way!”

“Kalim, no. You still need to study for the next potions exam.”

“Augh, I need someone to talk about this story with so we can lament in solidarity!”

“…have you been taking lessons from Rook lately?”

/Three days later/

“Um…is Yuu okay? They’re looking a little…tense.”

It had been several days since Yuu borrowed a stack of books, and already they had gone through nearly half of their hoard. Between classes and on breaks or after finishing tests, it wasn’t hard for students to notice the lone human with their nose between the pages of one book after the other. Even the researchers had taken note of Yuu’s behavior in between tests, making note of their expressions and how their body changes with each scene depicting their emotions. It was noteworthy how they reacted when a character in the story did something “cringeworthy and stupid” (as Yuu would explain when asked), it looked as though the human had swallowed a lemon.

At the moment they were sitting in Heartslabyul, yet another book in their arms as they sat on one side of the lounge. Cater had taken progression snapshots of Yuu’s body slowly curling into itself, eyes steadily growing wider and wider to the point it looked as though they’d bolt away in panic.

“They’re fine,” Grim told Trey as he munched on a snack. “They’ve been like this since they got all those books. That’s the pose they had last time when their Ohteevee smooched or somethin’.”

“Oh, you mean ‘OTP’, Grimmy,” Cater corrected with a smile. “That’s so cute! Our human has an OTP already~!”

��I’ve heard of hitting the books, but this is ridiculous,” Ace commented with a sigh. “They’ve been reading so long that I forgot what half their face looks li-”

“GRAAAAH!!!!”

SLAM! Fwump!!

“Gyah!?” the boys yelped, everyone staring at Yuu as they sat on the couch with a dark scowl.

“Yo, what the heck? Why’d you throw the book like that?” Ace asked, pointing at the large tome on the other side of the couch now.

“Um…Yuu?” Deuce began when they didn’t respond. “Are…you okay?”

“……I’m mad,” came the response, Yuu’s expression growing more annoyed as they stared off into space.

“About what?” Riddle asked in surprise.

Yuu’s gaze turned to the discarded book, their expression as though they had been betrayed by a trusted friend as they said, “Because my favorite character died, and I refuse to read how the book ends when there’s literally two freaking pages left! That’s not enough space to bring them back in a satisfying way!!”

“Y…you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Ace grumbled with a sigh. “That big of a reaction just because a fictional character was killed off?”

“You weren’t there to see the struggles they went through! I saw them change from an annoying bully into a fully developed and vulnerable character who wanted to take charge of their life—and the author killed them off!” Jumping to their feet, Yuu marched towards Ace and Deuce’s room where they’d left their stuff and said, “Where’s my notebook? I need to fix this!”

“What are you gonna do?” Grim called out.

“Write a fanfic, because my scrunkly deserves to be happy!”

“Huh? Scrunkly??”

/Final day/

“Oh, Great Seven…what happened in your book this time?” Vil asked with a sigh.

Yuu sniffled as they tried to dry their tears, though it was difficult as more continued to flow down their cheeks. “I…I just finished my last book,” they said, their voice cracking a little with emotion as Grim pat their arm reassuringly.

“All ten books in a week?” Vil said in surprise. “That’s…impressive. Even so, why are you so upset? Was the story that horrible?”

“No…it…it…it was too good!” Yuu cried out, clutching the book so tight that their knuckles turned white as the tears flowed freely now.

“Ah…such pure, raw human emotion,” Rook crooned. “To express it so freely without fear…beaute!”

“Was the book really that good?” Epel asked.

“Yes!” Yuu wailed. “Now that it’s over, I…I don’t know what to do with myself now…”

Peering at the title, Vil gave a thoughtful hum and said, “Oh, that story. I hear there is supposed to be a spin-off book series. The first one should have released just the other day.”

“Really?!”

“Mrrr…now you’ve done it,” Grim grumbled with a sigh. “Here we go again.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #riddle rosehearts #cater diamond #jamil viper #kalim al asim #jade leech #floyd leech #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #i had a lot of fun with this once i figured out where to go with it!

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alexismcknight25 · 20 days

Text

What if Ella Kneeled – Part 2

What happens when Charming is taken before The Queen of Hearts?

Based of the scene from the looking glass Red and Chloe see but a new version to fit with this story.

Part 1 - ao3 link to this chapter

The Queen of Hearts sent some of her Knights to Cinderellasburg to fetch Charming. She doesn’t know exactly what happened, but she has heard enough to know he has not treated Ella as she deserved.

At this moment, Ella is concealing herself, where she can hear everything that is happening but no one can see her.

Charming is about to be brought in, and she wants to show him what he’s done.

If he wanted to abandon his family, then he could believe they were all gone.

Bridget asked Ella for her glass shoes before Ella hid, and Ella handed them over. Bridget then used one of her cards to create a new pair of shoes just for Ella, which Ella loved and put on straight away.

“If you want to keep your heads, not one word to Charming about what has happened here?” The Queen of Hearts threatened her captives.

The Card Knights drag Charming in.

“Let me go” Charming complains to the Card Knights holding him.

“Oh, Charming. So nice to see you again” The Queen of Hearts greets Charming

“Where’s Cinderella?” Charming asks as the Card Knights throw him to the ground

“Why? Do you still care for her?” The Queen of Hearts questions him as she grabs the glass shoes from a Card Knight

"No!" Charming yells, distraught, not seeing his wife.

“Are you looking for these?” The Queen of Hearts asks him holding the shoes out in front of him

“What have you done?” Charming asked her, still distraught. He never thought Bridget could harm his wife, but it turns out he doesn't know her.

The Queen of Hearts then throws the Glass Shoes on the ground shattering them into millions of tiny pieces.

Charming pleads, "No... No... No," as he scratches his hands on the pieces of the Glass Shoes in front of him.

“You know I didn’t think you cared anymore?” Ella comments as she comes into view

Charming is confused as he looks up and sees his wife walk up to The Queen of Hearts' side.

His wife is seemingly still alive. Whose shoes were just destroyed in front of him as if they meant nothing?

He also notices Chloe is missing.

“Where’s Chloe?” He asks wondering where his daughter is. She is always with her mother.

"Oh, so now you care about my daughter? Where have you been for the last eight years as I raised her alone? Also, I'm not sure if you're aware, but Bridget has a daughter the same age as Chloe. Both girls are missing. Not that it would matter to you. Bridget and I will find our daughters. We don't need you!" Ella complained to him. Why is he mentioning Chloe now? He hasn't been there for the last eight years, so why should it make any difference now?

Then Ella does something she hasn’t done since she was a teenager. Something she tried so hard to forget.

She walks closer to Bridget takes her face in her hands and does like she did so many times in the past she kisses Bridget but this time for everyone to see. This time for Henry to watch.

Bridget is shocked at first. It's been a long time, and she told her daughter, Love ain’t it Ella broke her heart when they were teenagers, but she remembers this so well. This right here, right now, Ella is choosing her. Choosing her over Charming and kissing her in front of everyone.

So after a moment, Bridget starts kissing back. The kiss gets more heated and they have both missed this so much. So when Ella’s tongue runs along Bridget’s lower lip of course she lets her in and then the two of them are full-on making out for everyone to see.

When Ella finally pulls away breathless she turns to the Card Knights and commands “Take him away”

The Card Knights are shocked and confused at this order and turn to their Queen for confirmation.

“Well you heard her, take him away. Lock him up in the dungeons” The Queen of Hearts commands her soldiers

Charming is just lost for words as the Card Knights drag him away.

Bridget turns to Ella and god does she love this woman? Even more after her actions just now.

Ella is blushing so hard. God she has missed this woman.

"Sorry," Ella whispers to Bridget.

"Don't be," Bridget whispers back before leaving a chaste kiss on Ella's lips.

"I have missed this," Bridget tells her as she slowly pulls away.

"Me too," Ella whispers back.

The two then remember they are not alone.

The Queen of Hearts stares everyone down

“Anyone, going to say anything?”

Everyone wisely keeps their mouths shut. Knowing it's better to remain silent. Most people are too shocked to say anything, knowing that speaking up could cost them their heads.

#disney descendants #bridgella #cinderella #Bridget #Bridget x Ella #bridget of wonderland #bridget of hearts #descendants #rise of red #Ella #What if Ella kneeled

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runariya · 2 months

Text

Drive to Survive (JJK) • Chapter 9 “Instinct”

pairing: F1driver!Jungkook x female race engineer!reader genre: colleagues2L, formula1!AU, racing!AU, drama, kind of fantasy/cyborg!AU fic rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: shock, pain, confessions, explicit content, again: 18+, MDNI!, kissing, oral (f. receiving), fingering, handjob, smut, Jungkook wears a necklace, sweaty Jungkook, tiny bit of breeding kink and marriage kink (?), fluff word count: ~ 2.820

🎵 SEVDALIZA FEAT. PABLLO VITTAR & YSEULT - ALIBI 🎵

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to the sport of Formula 1 are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 • 07 • 08 • series masterlist • 10

You can’t hear a single word Jungkook says. The blood is pounding so loudly in your ears that you go deaf to the world around you. His words echo again and again in your mind.

“...I love you...”

“...say you love me…”

His confession blindsided you—not just a simple crush but a declaration of deep feelings that have been growing for years. You open your mouth, trying to say something, anything, but no sound comes out. As your eyes refocus on Jungkook’s face, you see it clearly now: the pain, the vulnerability, and the way your silence shatters his heart into a million pieces.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt him. Seeing him in pain cuts you to the core.

You love him. You want him.

Before your mind has a chance to catch up, your body reacts instinctively. You close the distance between you in a heartbeat, running the few steps to him with full speed, propelled by your feelings.

There’s no time to think when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss him like a starving woman. He lifts you up, his big, callused hands secure on your thighs, feeling a thrill as he presses your bodies together. As your tongue dances with his in a languid motion you dreamed of for ages, your hand caresses from his shoulder up his neck, over the single silver chain he always wears, to his hair.

As your fingers tangle in his short, dark strands, a low grunt vibrates against your tongue and chest.

“Please say you love me, too, or I won’t be able to continue.” Jungkook husks with heavy breaths as you part from the kiss. His eyes shine with different emotions, two which you identify as the fear and sadness, you don’t want to see in them.

“I love you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook jumps with you in his arms, making you giggle from the heavy bounce as you hold onto him tight. His own laugh echoing around you.

“Yes, babe!”

At his outburst, you can’t help the genuine laugh that escapes you, too. It’s ridiculous how often Jungkook has called you by the pet name, but now, knowing his feelings for you, it means so much more than it ever did.

“You’re my girlfriend now, right?”

You stop, gazing into his dark, chocolate eyes, the eyes you always felt weak for, the ones that show all the love imaginable. “If you want me to?”

“Of course! Why you even asking?”

Jungkook kisses you again, up your neck to your mouth, and with every stroke of his tongue on yours, the kiss turns more heated. His lips are like soft pillows, and even though he smells like aftershave, his small stubble tingles you. Your breaths mingle, and your heartbeats don’t seem to slow down in the slightest when he walks to your hotel room bed.

“God, I’ve dreamed of this moment since I was fourteen.”

You tense at that, afraid to be just a challenge to be check-marked after successfully accomplished. But Jungkook sensing every shift of your mood, stops at once, searching your eyes in slight panic.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“I…I don’t want to be just another girl-“

Jungkook cuts you off, putting you down on the bed while he kneels on one knee before you. His hair tousled from your fingers, he looks like a big buff puppy who just wants to be with you.

His big hand finds your cheek, rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb, his voice soft and low “You are it for me,___. You never were and never will be just a girl to me. I just want to be with you and treat you right and we don’t have to do shit. We can wait until marriage if you want to, but either way, I’m going to wife you up if you let me.” He smirks, the truth and dedication never leaving his irises.

“I want you so bad, it’s not even funny.” You laugh embarrassed, holding your hands over your face and peeking through your fingers.

Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, his face splitting into a grin, nearly cooing. It’s then that you know to trust him with all of you. He never truly did you wrong and all the wrongs he’s done, he did try to redo them tenfolds.

“So can I make you feel good, babe?”

You nod, anticipating what comes next.

“I need words, not just now but all the time, yeah?”

“Yes. I want that from you too. Please tell me if something’s wrong.” You take his hand in yours, the size difference making you gulp dry. Even only by kissing him, do you get wet to the point where your underwear is ruined beyond repair.

“Yes, of course. But you don’t have to worry about a thing.” He kisses the back of your hand, after finger after finger. “Come here.”

Jungkook leads you again off the bed as he stands up, towering over your small form. You should feel fragile beside him, and in a way you do. But most, it’s his build and strength that make you feel so much more safe. Like a predator taking on a prey, making sure that no one can harm it.

His hands travel to the zipper of your dress, while he leans into your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses. His breath fans the small hair, forming goosebumps of anticipation. When the zipper is fully pulled down, his hands caress up your arms until he pushes your dress with a feathery motion off your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet in a soundless thud.

Your chest rises, when he takes a step back, his dark eyes drinking in your nearly naked form, only clad in black lace underwear you always like to wear. With one swift movement, he takes off his shirt, throwing it somewhere you couldn’t care less.

You’ve seen him shirtless countless times before when you had to visit him at the gym, but seeing him now, a few inches away from you, alone, for only your eyes to see, it hits differently.

His torso is sculptured like one of an Olympian god. The silver chain hangs loosely around his thick neck, pooling between his defined pecks, while his strong arms flex in synchronisation with his breathing.

There’s a new wave of arousal pooling out of you and you can’t help but to rub your thighs together to gain some friction.

“You’re a goddess, ___.” Jungkook sighs, the compliment like honey to your confidence.

You take that opportunity, to reach out to him, running your hands up his chest to his face, pulling him down so you can resume kissing him stupid. Jungkook’s hands find your waist in an instant, his touch further spurring the love and fire burning within you.

Lowering yourself to the bed, he follows suit, crawling carefully over you, not breaking the kiss. With one hand, he gets rid of his trousers while his other supports himself beside your head, careful to not pull at your hair pooling around you.

“Tell me to stop and I will in an instant, yeah?”

“Yes.” You nearly moan only by his naked torso touching your skin. You should be embarrassed but the dark patch of per-cum on his boxers is testament enough that he wants you as much as you do him.

This little word is enough for Jungkook to kiss down your body, over the valley of your tits to your hipbone before he tucks his two index fingers in your underwear. Through his thick lashes, he looks back up at you, waiting for your confirmation. The sight of this Adonis being so loving and carful with you makes a smile bloom on your face.

You truly are the luckiest girl in the world.

So you nod, and Jungkook doesn’t waste time and pulls your underwear down your legs and disregards them over his shoulder. He spreads your legs, his eyes zeroing in on your pussy as he lowers himself to kiss up your tights until he reaches your outer lips.

The breath he takes should be vulgar, but the lovesick look he sends you with the most endearing smile lets you know that he truly enjoys every moment of this.

His tongue licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your perl, where he immediately starts circling and sucking on it, occasionally moving down to push his tongue into you. Your breathing increases with every second of his ministrations and you think you see stars when he pushes one single big digit of his into your hole.

A loud moan escapes your by now dry lips, which causes Jungkook to moan as well, as his hips push against the mattress. The vibrations paired with another finger that he pushes inside you, send you over the edge. White stars rain down on you, as your vision blacks out, your thighs trembling and trying to squeeze Jungkook, who keeps pumping his fingers into you while making sure you don’t crush him.

He rides you through the high, coaxing every moan and drop out of you.

It's when he sits up on his knees between your legs, smirk firmly in place with your cum covering the lower part of his mouth, after wiping it off on his lower arm, transferring the shiny sheen onto the muscle, that you think you cum again.

“You good, babe?”

“Fantastic.” You breathe out, making him chuckle and lean back down, kissing you like there’s no tomorrow. There’s no shame, no second thoughts. Only love in the way he kisses and touches you. “I love you so much, Jungkook.”

“I love you more.”

Your hands wander the expanse of his back in soft caresses, as one of his runs up your side. Jungkook kneads your tit, playing with the nipple through the thin fabric, and you think there’s no coming down tonight.

“Take it off.” You urge, not wanting to wait any longer.

Jungkook obliges in an instant, ridding yourself of the bra and his boxers. His thick, long dick springs free, hitting his navel. Saliva collects in your mouth at the sight of him, and not being able to withstand, you reach out to him, pumping with slow motions his dick.

Jungkook moans, his head falling slightly back as he keeps eye contact with you. His pupils have darkened drastically, his chest heaving with deep breaths as a slight sheen of sweat makes him so much more alluring.

“Please tell me you've got a condom.” Jungkook’s voice is strained, and you know you can't keep pleasuring him if you want more.

“Bathroom, in my toiletry bag, side pocket.”

Jungkook springs off you and the bed without hesitation, his dick bopping with every step he takes. When he comes back, rolling the condom properly on, he smiles at you like he always does. Boyish, charming, just like him. It eases your nerves further, causing you to smile back, too.

“You sure you want this?” he asks, kneeling again between your thighs, big hands caressing your knees.

“I am, are you?” You ask hopeful, but your doubts vanish into thin air when he nods and kisses you softly.

“Yes. I love you.”

You help him align his tip with your pussy, running it multiple times through your sleek to lubricate it enough.

Not any prepping could have prepared you for the stretch of his head pushing in. The burn is so good, that your eyes start to water in an instant, causing you to moan in synch with his grunt.

Jungkook goes slowly, pushing into your weeping walls inch by inch. His arms, supporting his weight on either side of your head, shake a little, and you're sure it's not from the exertion but from the wonderful sensation of you gripping him like a vice.

“God, you're so tight, babe.” He grunts, clearly as blissed out of his mind as you are.

You moan his name when he buttons out, holding his face with both your hands. He kisses your button lip as if it's the most fragile thing in the world, his breath, and aftershave fanning your face in puffs matching your own breathing.

He pulls all the way out, only the tip vacuumed to your pussy. His hips start to move in slow, steady strokes, with the perfect amount of pressure so it doesn't hurt. The pace is immaculate, jungkook taking his time, and making you relish in every stroke, every breath, every feeling you go through while he makes love to you in ways you only dreamed of.

As your breathing becomes too heavy to keep kissing Jungkook, you opt for breathing against his neck, but he pulls away slightly, looking down at you while his necklace dangles with every strike against your chin and nose.

“Sorry,” he says, grabbing it to pull it off, but you halt his movement.

“Don’t. Please.” You sigh between moans.

Jungkook grins a lazy grin, his pace not faltering the slightest. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You can't seem to find your voice this time. The sight of his red swollen lips caused from eating you out and kissing you dumb too mesmerising to form words. The drops of sweat descend his temple, down his neck, and finally drop down his collarbone to your tits. It’s a maddening sigh, one you will never get enough of.

“I mean it when I say that I'll wife you up. Gonna pump some babies into you someday.”

His grunts and moans increase in volume, like a symphony to yours. You never knew that you would love hearing someone, jungkook, say he’ll wife you up and make you babies, but hearing it now is the best love confession you could have hoped for.

“Yes! Jungkook! Yes!”

Your walls flutter violently around his brick-hard dick, causing him to increase in pace despite the growing difficulty to do so.

“Come for me, babe. Show me how much you love me.” Jungkook grunts out, eyebrows drawn together, teeth clenched tightly, the muscle in his jaw ticking with every push and pull, as he watches you writher beneath him.

The second orgasm hits you like a thunderclap, its intensity propelling you beyond the earth’s orbit. Three pumps more, and Jungkook comes undone himself, grunting and chanting your name repeatedly until his head collapses on your collarbone, his weight still supported by his strong arms.

After you both catch your breath, jungkook lifts his head, his eyes shining like the stars in the darkest night sky. You fix a strand of his dark hair, caressing it from his wet forehead. Your finger traces his features, your eyes following every detail, and locking it in your memory.

The warmth in Jungkook’s eyes hasn't dimmed one bit. It seems as if it has multiplied instead, love oozing out of every pore as he takes your hand and kisses it softly.

“I love you,” he whispers in his deep voice, making tears spring into your eyes.

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

As he pulls out slowly, he showers you with a million tiny kisses across your face. You've never been this happy and content in your life, and all the achievements seem irrelevant and ridiculous in the shadows of being truly loved by Jeon Jungkook and feeling the same.

You want to paint your future until its end, writing page after page of a fairytale come true, and for now, you do just that.

Even hours later, in the middle of the dark night in Belgium, when everyone’s asleep except for the two of you, and conversations turn deeper with every word hushed between you and him, Jungkook is everything that you wanted and more.

“You really didn't sleep with her?” You ask, your voice turning sleepier with the minute while you lay in Jungkook’s arms, chin on his chest, gazing into his equally tired eyes.

“No, never. She played me the minute she saw I wanted only you,” his tattooed fingers brush light circles on your bare back, pulling you further into dreamland. “You never had to worry about a thing, babe.”

“That’s nice.” You mumble, not able to fight the sleep any longer, while Jungkook kisses your head, now lying near his beating heart.

01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 • 07 • 08 • series masterlist • 10

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