#sorry ares my king | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

voyter · 16 days ago

Text

DEVOTION — jeon jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Grace?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I suppose,” you murmur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ser Kim Seokjin," the Lord Commander announces.

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

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

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

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

The Lord Commander nods solemnly, signaling the next candidate.

“Ser Jeon Jungkook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And today was no different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Grace?”

It’s him.

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

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

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

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just the barrier of wood between you two.

The next day unfolded much more peacefully than the last.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You froze.

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stopped. They wanted Celeste. Your daughter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Take off your armor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But neither of you move.

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

And just like that, his lips are on yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s all it takes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like that one time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook imagine

2K notes · View notes

lovphobic · 1 year ago

Text

the struggle between keeping up the face card titles for my character playlists vs trying to base it off their most memorable game. fight

#like SORRY but im not gonna have king of diamonds jack of spades and then seven of hearts. but then my only other option that Matches #seven of hearts game is the Queen of hearts. like. babygirl we are talking ab ar/isu. its ok whatever its fine gender fuckery be upon ye #i love and hate the montages of the games in both seasons. LETTT ME SEE THEM IN FULL. RIGHT NOW

0 notes

proneterror204 · 2 months ago

Text

Fear vs Family Reunions

Wonder Woman: This is nice! Its not very often i get to connect with this side of my family.

Fright Knight: Indeed. It is rare to have such civil conversation with my family, free of any drama.

Wonder Woman: Fear? You don't often get with the family?

Fright Knight: No. War is never good for children. Even its own children are not spared. Mother Love would have been better off with the Forge. He treated my brother and i more kindly than War ever did.

Wonder Woman: I'm so sorry to hear that. I hear you are sworn to a new king? Is this one better than Pariah or do i need to overthrow a tyrant?

Fright Knight: HA! No no no. This king is much more peaceful. Where Pariah was fire, Phantom is ice. He is more than happy to let the Realms govern itself rather than conquer it for himself. Though he does stress himself with keeping the balance between our worlds. War would have been a easier tool for it.

Wonder Woman: You speak against your Father but encourage his craft?

Fright Knight: I do not acknowledge him as my father or support his craft. I merely acknowledge as a tool to use. I mean the threat of a war to scare others into peace not the actual use of it. My liege would never threaten anyone with something he did not intend to use anyway, so there will be no threat.

Wonder Woman: Your king is perhaps wiser than you in matters of ruling.

Fright Knight: Indeed. I am a warrior, not a ruler or politician. I lead armies, not rule kingdoms. But speaking of war. Where did you put my.... male progenitor?

Wonder Woman: Ares- sorry, War is a god. We couldn't arrest him, so we handed him to a government organization that deals with the supernatural. I believe its called the GIW.

Fright Knight: .....

Wonder Woman: What? Is something wrong?

Fright Knight: I fear you have made a catastrophic- no a apocalyptic mistake. I must return to my king immediately. *Fright Knight summons and mount his nightmare steed* I suggest you take a Batman size look at the GIW and realize your mistake.

#Fright knight is Phobos #Ares is War #Aphrodite is Love #Hephaestus is Forge #Aunt Wonder Woman #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny phantom #wonder woman

1K notes · View notes

evermoresqueiswriting · 8 months ago

Text

the one where clarisse learns about her love language

"Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury" - King Of My Heart, Taylor Swift

summary: after getting hurt during one game of capture de flag, clarisse gets taken care of by you and after this, clarisse went from never being at the infirmary to being there almost every day with a new injury. weird for an ares kid to get this easily injured, but you didn't mind

pairing: clarisse la rue x apollo!reader

word count: 6.2k i suddenly lost the ability to write shorter fics bruh

tags: fluff, clarisse fell first and harder

masterlist // ask box

No one at camp had a job at camp per say. Hephaestus kids were the ones forging the weapons campers used, and Demeter kids sometimes cooked dinner. And some Apollo kids – including yourself – were the designated healers at camp. So, it wasn’t your job, per say, to stay at the infirmary all day long, but you were.

You enjoyed the calm and serenity of that place. The sun always shined through the windows, and you could sunbathe all day long, while listening to your favourite songs or painting. Most of the time it was quiet, except when Will followed you there. He was a rather loud kid, he loved to ask questions and learn about everything you did.

“Shouldn’t you be playing with other kids your age instead of trying to work here?”

“Shouldn’t you be socialising with kids your age instead of working for free?” Will replied in the same tone.

“Rude!”

“I learned from the best,” he gave you a pat on the shoulder.

“I regret it. All the time,” you turned away. “If you’re gonna stay here, at least help me clean this place.”

The first time Will tried to help you clean this place, it was a disaster. Before you ran the infirmary, it wasn’t organised, everything was just laying around. Then you came in, and cleaned up the place, and organised it how you liked it. Will didn’t know that, so he just cleaned up like he thought was fine. It wasn’t. And you had lectured him about never – ever – touching anything again without you being there.

“Tomorrow’s Capture the Flag,” Will started. “They put really far from the flag and the fight, again,” he frowned.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It always happens when the Ares cabin is teaming up with us. They’re always leading the fight.”

“Well they are good,” you shrugged. “But you know you can talk to Lee about this, he’s our head counsellor and he could talk to Clarisse.”

He shook his head.

“Clarisse is kinda scary,” Will admitted.

“Did I never tell you to never judge a book by its cover,” you put your hands on your hips, “but in that case you’re right. Clarisse does scare me a little bit too. And I’m kinda glad she decided to put me far away from her this time.”

Will rolled his eyes, clearly still upset.

“Okay, I can see how this isn’t great,” you sighed. “If for the next one, we’re still teaming up with the Ares cabin, I’ll talk to Lee and Clarisse alright?”

He nodded. Hopefully, you weren’t going to team up with the Ares cabin anytime soon. You never talked to Clarisse, but you knew who she was. Everyone knew her. Ares daughter, head counsellor and incredibly scary. She was an amazing fighter, and no one wanted to be at the other end of her spear.

“I’m just saying,” you ranted to Lee at dinner, “Will is a kid and it sucks that you decided to exclude him.”

“Who’s ‘you’,” he inquired. “Clarisse was the brain behind everything. She’s the strategist.”

“And what are you? A plant? You were there when the strategy was being made,” you argued.

“But Will never said anything to me. It’s always been this way.”

“Well he told me, and I’m telling you. Please pass along this information if we ever get teamed up with the Ares cabin again,” you smiled.

“Sure,” Lee nodded. “You’re the boss.”

“‘m not,” you mumbled and kept on eating.

Lee was the Apollo cabin’s head counsellor. But really, you were his co-head counsellor. You have been at camp for a long time now, since the age of ten and you have always been a year-rounder at camp. But when the head counsellor spot freed up, you vouched for Lee. He wanted that position, he deserved it, and you agreed. But he always came for advice and your opinion.

Capture the Flag day finally arrived, and you were getting ready, putting your armour on. You picked your bow and slid it on your shoulder, before leaving your cabin. You joined your team – the red one – and everyone was there already. Clarisse stood tall and proud at the front, planting her spear next to her.

“Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged,” Chiron announced – like every single time. “Killing or maiming is not allowed.”

“Much to my regret,” Dionysus mumbled. “So yeah, let the game begin or whatever.”

Clarisse turned around, waved her hand around and people were running to their assigned position. You were on flag duty. On top of the hill that had a perfect view of your flag. If you saw anyone from the opposite side you'd shoot explosive arrows to blind and confuse them for a second, so your team had time to disarm them before they could reach your flag.

You looked around, and spotted Michael and Lee. Chatting, and looking around. Moving on. Ares' kids were fighting some kids from the Hephaestus cabin. Logic. And then you spotted Clarisse. Walking alone through the forest. Probably to the other side where the blue flag was.

But then you also spotted a group of three Athena kids – blue team – following her closely. Clarisse wasn’t stupid, she probably knew about them following her.

“What are you watching?” someone asked, startling you.

“Will! What are you doing here?”

“There wasn’t anyone around the borders, so I came to help you. So what are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, going back to monitor your flag.

Will stared at you, huffed and went to look at what you were looking at.

“y/n?,” Will called for you.

“What?” you didn’t look at him.

“y/n!”

“What?” you gave him a quick glance.

“Something’s wrong.”

That caught your attention. You looked back at where Clarisse was. She seemed fine. The three Athena kids were no longer there though.

“What?”

“Don’t you see the trap?”

“What trap?” you frowned, looking more closely at where she stood.

It was a particularly sunny day. If your dad wasn’t Apollo, you’d be blinded by the sun rays. But your dad was Apollo, so you were doing great. And there it was. The trap. It was so bright, it was hard to spot it. And the Athena kids knew that. So when Clarisse walked over it, it was too late and something came flying toward her.

“What the hell?” you cursed before running down the hill. “Stay here,” you warned Will.

Before you left, you gave a quick glance back, and Clarisse was down, surely unconscious.

“Fuck.”

You sprinted towards where she was when you heard the emergency horn. The emergency horn that Chiron played at the start of every summer so campers would know what that sound meant. A warning for campers that the game stopped. When you reached Clarisse, Chiron and Mr D were already there. As well as most campers.

“What happened?” campers talked among themselves.

“Move!” you pushed the kids blocking you from reaching Clarisse.

Clarisse was bleeding from her forehead, and a metal stick was stuck in her left shoulder. It was overwhelming, people squeezing in to see what was going on, talking to each other. Even Chiron and Mr D couldn’t keep them in place. You kneeled beside Clarisse, trying to shield her from the campers, when you spotted one of the Athena kids that was following her earlier.

You stood swiftly, without leaving Clarisse unattended and grabbed his armour with both hands to bring him closer.

“You take another step toward Clarisse again and I’ll make sure you won’t ever, ever, see another healthy day again. I’ll make sure you and your brothers will wake everyday in pain wishing you were dead instead,” you cursed him.

You spoke in a low voice, but everyone heard. Just like that, everyone took a step back.

“y/n,” Chiron put his hand on your shoulder. “You’re needed in the infirmary, I’ll bring Clarisse there.”

You let him go, took your armour off and threw it on the ground before walking to the infirmary with your brothers close behind you. Michael had great healing skills too, so you’d need him. Will was learning so he stayed with you. Lee, as your head counsellor, also had to be here somehow.

“Can you really do that?” Will asked timidly. “Make them sick forever.”

“Apollo kids can inherit dad’s plague powers,” Lee stated. “But it’s rare, and never that powerful.”

Will stared at you, but you only stared at the door. Waiting for Chiron to arrive.

“Why are you so worried about Clarisse of all people,” Michael huffed.

Lee slapped his arm.

“What!” Michael rubbed his arm.

“Great to know that’s what you’d think if we were ever on the battlefield,” you noted, “choosing who to help and who can die.”

“That’s not what I said!” he shouted.

“Then why shouldn’t I be worried about an injured camper, who just happened to be Clarisse?” you shouted back.

Someone cleared their throat. You both stopped bickering. Chiron. He put Clarisse on the bed next to the window and stepped back so you and Michael could start working. You didn’t need to talk to know what to do. You trained together, as a team, for years, so everything was done flawlessly and quickly.

“She should be fine,” you announced, “I’ll stay and feed her ambrosia for the next few days and she should wake.”

“Great,” Chiron nodded, relieved. “Great work you two, as usual.”

They all left, except for Will and you both sat on the couch. You stared at Clarisse, with her head wrapped in a bandage, her shoulder too.

“She doesn’t look so scary now huh,” you said.

“No,” Will agreed. “So it really was the Athena cabin?”

“I don’t know, I mean I saw them. I don’t think Annabeth would’ve agreed to such a plan. As in a plan that’d almost kill their opponent in Capture the Flag. For a real quest, why not. But Capture the Flag?”

“What’s going to happen to those who pulled this stunt?”

“Well,” you sighed, “knowing Chiron, he’d probably just revoke their dessert privileges for two weeks instead of one. But I’m sure once she wakes up, she’ll know what to do.”

“Kill them?” Will ask, with a horrified expression.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

Will left first, leaving you alone with Clarisse. You told him you’d join him later when dinner would come. You went to see Clarisse. The bandages were already soaked, so you carefully removed them. You carefully cleaned her wounds again before bandaging them again. You fed her a tiny amount of ambrosia before joining the rest of your siblings for dinner.

Before the feast could begin, Chiron gave a speech about how Capture the Flag wasn’t the place to settle personal accounts and that maiming and killing was forbidden. And how this time it went too far.

“I’ve talked to the head counsellor in question, and it will be taken seriously. There will be consequences, and I don’t ever want to see this happening ever again.”

Campers nodded along, and went back to their table. You devoured your food in no time, not forgetting to leave some for the offering. Then you rushed to shower and clean your face before running to the infirmary where you’d spend the next few nights.

“I really hope you’ll wake soon,” you told unconscious Clarisse. “I’m not used to having someone else in here.”

You walked around, putting things back where they’re supposed to, and walked back to where Clarisse was. Then you stood again, and sat.

“I’m crazy. A few hours with someone who doesn’t talk to me and I’m going insane,” you sighed. “Well, while we’re here, I have a few things to say, to get off my chest really,” you started your rant. “You know Will, my little brother. Well, Will is capable of holding his own, he can fight… maybe not your siblings, cause you’re all very, very, violent. But you don’t have to put him this far away each time you know, he notices.

“I’m saying,” you rested your back against the bed, “it could be different, you could come up with a different kind of strategy. It works for sure, you win a lot, but we could win in a different way also.

“You know I saw you,” you continued after a moment. “Being followed by these idiots. I thought you knew, and–,” you paused. “Ugh I should’ve tried to protect you. Warn you. It was my job. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? And it was hot as hell, you could’ve felt a little dizzy and I should’ve–”

“Shut up,” Clarisse wheezed.

You whipped around, standing up before backing away.

“Ar– Clarisse?” you whispered. “Are you feeling alright?” you walked to her.

Her eyes were still closed, she frowned and shook her head slightly.

“Waw, Ares kids are tougher than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself.

You went to grab some water and a straw, and sat next to Clarisse, on the bed.

“You should drink a bit.”

She opened her eyes, and stared at you, with a blank expression. You blinked, and smiled, holding up the straw to her mouth. You frowned when she refused to drink.

“Drinking water is good for you,” you added. “Please stop staring at me like you want to murder me.”

She rolled her eyes and drank everything before closing her eyes again, and turning her head on the other side.

“Well, I’ll be sleeping on this bed,” you pointed to the bed next to hers, “if you need anything, shout.”

Clarisse kept quiet, so you went to bed and fell asleep very quickly. Clarisse, on the other hand, could not fall asleep. She turned head around and looked at you. You clearly slept well, with your mouth slightly opened. After a few minutes of staring outside the window, her stomach growled. She needed to eat.

There had to be food in here – she looked around and spotted a basket full of fruits and cake. That’ll do. She gathered all her strength and tried to push herself up using her left arm and yelped in pain. That woke you up.

“What’s wrong?” you worried.

“Nothing,” Clarisse panted, biting her lips.

You rushed to her and saw her shoulder was bleeding again.

“What happened?” you worried, turning the lights on.

You grabbed clean bandages, and a clean towel with some alcohol and rushed back to her. Clarisse somehow managed to sit up, her right arm holding onto where her left shoulder was stabbed.

“Don’t cover it,” you pushed her hand away.

You started to remove the blood soaked bandages when she grabbed your hand to stop you. You gave her a questioning look. Clarisse quickly let go of your hand and looked away, breathing slowly. You opened your mouth, but then closed it and resumed your work.

“What were you trying to do anyway?” you asked when the wound was clean.

“I was hungry.”

“I–, I mean I did say to shout if you needed me but I was not thinking a pained scream with you bleeding again. Just a ‘hey y/n bring me food’ would’ve suffice. I would’ve been up. And that’s done. Good as new.”

Clarisse was still looking away from you which hid her head wound. When she turned her head toward you, you raised your hand to touch her face, but she flinched away hard at your sudden movement. You froze, too afraid to move again. No one talked or dared to breathe – the silence became heavy. Clarisse opened her eyes, and stared at you. She took your hand in hers and put it down.

“I–,” you breathed, “I was just going to check your head wound,” you murmured.

“Go ahead then,” she sat straighter.

You raised your hands slower this time, and tilted her head. You tore off her bandage and put it back in place. Clarisse could hear her heartbeat pacing up. Her mind and body stopped functioning. What was happening? She kept thinking about how your hands felt so warm in the night breeze, and how pretty you looked so close. Then when you dropped your hands, she came back to reality.

“Your face is still good. Like always,” and gave her a small smile.

“I’ll go eat,” she blurted out before leaving bed.

“Oh– okay. I can go to the kitchen and bring other things if you want.”

“No it’s fine,” she brushed you off, focused on the fruits in front of her.

Which was hard with you so close behind her. You watched Clarisse eat the strawberries and blueberries and grapes, and then you grabbed an orange and started to peel it. Once you were done you handed it to her. She grabbed it slowly and whispered a low thank you before eating it. Clarisse also ate half of the cake Katie brought to you earlier.

“Demeter kids, am I right,” you ate with her, “I don't know what they put in their cakes but I could eat them everyday. You should rest now,” you put your hand on her right arm and squeezed it. “You can barely stand.”

This time when Clarisse closed her eyes, she fell asleep instantly. And so did you. The next morning, you were the first one up. As soon as the sun rose, you were ready to start your day. You went to your cabin and washed up before grabbing a new toothbrush for Clarisse. You changed your clothes, and then went to the Ares cabin. You opened the door, and no one was up yet. You spotted the only empty bunk bed – Clarisse had one for herself – and saw her drawer next to it. You grabbed a new pair of pants, and a new camp-half blood tee and left in a hurry. Clarisse was up by the time you came back.

“I brought some of your clothes so you could change,” you gave her the clothes and the toothbrush. “I did sneak into your cabin, but I didn’t look through your stuff, don't worry about that,” you smiled. “I mean, except for your clothes – sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, I’ll let you change and I’ll be… not here for sure. I’ll go get breakfast!”

Clarisse watched you walk away, humming to some songs and when you were out of her sight, she got out of bed to change and clean herself. All she could think about was what happened yesterday. What even happened yesterday?

Before yesterday, you never spoke. She knew your name and vaguely knew what you looked like, but that was it. Since she arrived at camp, she didn’t once step into the infirmary – she didn’t need to. But now, for some reason, all she could think about was you. And how warm and soft your hands felt, how nice it felt to have you touch her face like that.

By the time you came back, Clarisse went back to bed and laid down. You gave her what you brought and you ate together, picking off the same plate.

“How are you feeling this morning? Does it still hurt?” you pointed at her shoulder.

“I’m—,” she stopped. “It still hurts,” which was true. “A lot,” that wasn’t..

“Really?” you worried. “I thought you’d be doing fine, because you woke so early. I thought your body was healing faster than most campers. Well,” you picked a strawberry with your fork, “you’ll have to stay here longer then.”

“Can’t go against the doctor’s orders,” she shrugged.

“True,” you smiled. “You finish this,” you pushed the plate toward her, “I’ll go get some supplies to change this,” you gently patted her shoulder.

You rolled your chair away, and grabbed what you needed and rolled back to Clarisse. You hopped onto her bed, and started your routine. The wounds were healing perfectly fine, and very quickly, so it was odd that Clarisse was still in extreme pain.

“I don’t think these wounds will scar,” you said.

“A shame, they’d make me look tougher.”

“Look?” you huffed. “You don’t need those to look tougher, you already do. Scary even,” you joke, but not really. “I mean I’m not scared– anymore… but yeah, some people may say– think you do. Anyway, scar or not, you’ll always look and be the toughest.”

“Anymore?” she grinned. “Were you before?”

“I mean,” you dragged that last vowel, “I don’t think scared is the right word. More like– intimidated. I never went to these meetings for Capture the Flag because I knew if you disagreed or worse – dismissed my ideas – I would’ve cried.”

“I never would’ve done that,” she chuckled, “I don’t think you’re capable of having bad ideas. Lee’s constantly praising you and giving us your ideas that I always take into account.”

“Really?” you couldn’t stop your smile.

She shrugged, and nodded. You playfully slapped her on the shoulder – the left one – and she yelped in pain.

“What the hell!”

‘Sorry!” you backed away, “it was a reflex.”

Clarisse ended up staying in the infirmary with you for three whole days, but she couldn’t fake it anymore when the wound completely healed and it was as if nothing had happened. The day she left, you cleaned up the room and sat alone on the couch, just like before.

It was weird. Usually, you enjoyed the silence and solitude of the room, but now it was as if time had stopped. Every time you looked at the clock, it’d only been two minutes. And so were the next few days. Then on Friday, as usual, Lee came in to visit. You worked in silence – which was the first odd thing Lee noticed – then he saw how you always stared at the empty bed Clarisse used to stay in.

“You’re being weird,” he said.

“I’m not!”

“You’re never this quiet when I visit.”

“The past few days were a bit dry,” you explained casually.

“You can say you miss Clarisse, it’s fine,” he sat next to you on the couch.

“I–,” you sighed. “It’s just… I was getting used to having someone with me.”

“Well maybe you should spend less time here and more time outside with, mmh I don’t know, Clarisse maybe.”

“What if she doesn’t see me as a friend though? What if I’m imagining things? She hasn’t visited me once.”

“Then you come back here, and the end.”

“I hate you,” you groaned. “You’re no help to me at all!”

When the door suddenly flew open which startled both of you. You could recognise these hair anywhere.

“Clarisse?” you called her name.

She turned to face you, and a gasp came out of your mouth before rushing to her.

“What happened to your face?” you held her arms.

Clarisse had a nasty cut going from her eyebrow to her hairline. She stared at you without saying anything before turning her gaze to Lee, and he spurted out some excuses and then left. But before he closed the door, he gave you a knowing look saying ‘see, she’s here’.

“What happened?” you frowned.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “These few days of rest weren’t a good idea I think.”

“That’s–,” you paused, “not accurate.”

But before she could reply, you grabbed her arm and dragged her to the other side of the room, and let her sit on the chair. You grabbed clean cotton and some alcohol and started to clean her wound. You stood closely to her, between her legs with her hands holding onto your thighs to stay steady.

“How did this happen anyway?” you asked.

“I was practising with my brothers.”

You frowned, and tried to step away but Clarisse was holding on tight to your thighs.

“You got beat up by your brothers?” you repeated with a raised eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing this. You’re just better than them,” you said casually before patching up her wound.

“Why do you know so much about my brothers’ skills?”

“I don’t! I know about yours. And from what I saw in the past, it’s always you leading the fight so I assumed that’s because you’re the best among them.”

“Mh,” she hummed, “well I guess you haven’t been doing your job very well if I’m not back to my old self yet,” she grinned.

“Or,” you grinned back, “maybe it’s your skills. I think they need a little sharpening. Maybe I could spare some time and teach you if you need.”

She suppressed a smile.

“Or, maybe you just want to spend time with me.”

You were close to each other, and Clarisse was still holding onto you. You crossed your arms, and stared at her. She was looking up at you, and you were looking down, which was a rare occurrence since she was much taller than you.

“I’m doing a favour to you at best. But if you don’t want to,” you sighed, “it’s–.”

“I do,” she affirmed.

That was the start of your friendship. Turns out Clarisse was really glad to hang out with someone that wasn’t her sibling. She was always the one seaking you out. At lunch, at dinner, during classes. All the time. Even when you were working, because somehow she always, always, ended up getting hurt.

One of the first times she came in after your friendship hangouts was for a sprained ankle. She came in limping, and threw herself on her – not really – bed, groaning.

“What happened?” you rushed to her side, worried. “You’re lucky I just came back in here!”

Clarisse didn’t want to admit this, but that was exactly why she was here. She was on her way to her cabin when she spotted you walking around with your sisters and she was so focused on you that she tripped and fell.

“I just fell,” she explained.

“You just fell,” you repeated slowly. “Right. Well lucky you because this,” you patted her leg, “will heal in no time with this,” you brought her some ambrosia.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Oh.”

Then the next time she came, like the next few ones, were always injuries that required you to clean up the wound, and then patch her up. It went from tiny cuts to ‘I have a bruise here’ then showing you her perfectly unbruised skin to serious injuries that she got during Capture the Flag.

“You know at this rate I feel like you’re doing this on purpose,” you joked when she came in for the umpteenth time. “What is it this time?”

She shrugged and sat on her designated bed, and laid down. You joined her and sat next to where her legs rested. She held up her hand and you took it before she dragged you to lay beside her. The beds in the infirmary weren’t big enough for two so you were half laying on Clarisse with her arm resting behind your head.

“Did you paint that?” she asked.

The ceiling was painted by the Apollo cabin, all together you decided on a design and painted it over weeks worth of work.

“Here,” you pointed at the top of the painting. “That was painted by me.”

“Two planets?”

“The moon and Saturn,” you smiled.

“Linked by a thread?”

“Yea, the red string of fate. It’s from Chinese mythology. The old lunar matchmaker god, who is in charge of marriages, would tie together two people with this red string of fate and they are destined to be together, to be lovers regardless of time, place or circumstances. And no matter what, that thread will never break. It can stretch or get tangled up, but it never breaks.”

“And what about the moon and Saturn then?” she frowned, confused.

“Because,” you paused. “Your braids like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn,” you started to sing, “Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long.”

You turned your head to look at her only to see confusion on her face.

“Taylor Swift, seven,” you explained. “It’s great, we’ll have to listen to it someday.”

“Sure.”

“Really?” you looked at her excitedly.

“Yeah, you seem to like her so sure, I’ll listen with you,” she shrugged.

“Oh and that’s Will’s painting,” you showed her another corner. “That’s my dad and his lover, Hyacinthus. That’s where the name of the flower came from. Isn’t that kind of sweet how he named a flower after him.”

“I mean didn’t Apollo kill – by accident – Hyacinthus?” she grimaced.

“Or Zephyrus was so jealous of my dad that he killed his lover, because he couldn’t get no man. My dad is an excellent archer. His aim never failed him. I don’t see how it’s possible for him to kill his lover. But gods being petty over these kinds of things, that I can believe.”

Clarisse hummed in agreement.

“But enough about my father’s love life,” you shrugged, turning around to face Clarisse, “what about your dad? Still desperately trying to woo someone else’’s wife?”

“I don’t want to talk about my dad,” she yawned, then closed her eyes.

“Okay.”

Just as you were about to continue talking, you noticed that Clarisse had fallen asleep. It was still early in the afternoon so it was still bright outside. You looked around and started to get up so you could pull the curtains but Clarisse grabbed your arm to pull you closer to her, locking you in her arms.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” you whispered and stayed still.

The thing was, Clarisse was like a human radiator. Sleeping in her arms felt exactly like sleeping under tons of heavy blankets. This much warmth only resulted in falling asleep in Clarisse’s arms. When you woke, you were alone in bed.

“Slacking off during work hours,” Lee said standing next to you.

“Fuck!” you jumped off bed. “Why were you staring at me sleeping!” you screamed.

“You weren’t there and it’s almost time for dinner. I’m being a nice brother!” he shouted back.

“Oh. Well, thanks!” you yelled, and gave him a smile.

You both left to join your siblings at the dining pavilion, and once you sat at your usual spot, you scanned the room in search of Clarisse. She was at her table like usual, and eating in silence, head hanging low. Your tactic of staring at her wasn’t working even though you knew she knew that you were staring at her.

“What are you doing?” Lee kicked you with his elbow. “Did something happen with Clarisse?” he whispered.

You shook your head.

“I mean,” you leaned in whispering, “we did sleep together.”

Lee’s eyes widened, mouth wide open and he backed away in shock.

“You– you slept together? In the infirmary?”

“Not slept together,” you rolled your eyes, “she fell asleep and did I.”

“Ah.”

“Anyways, she left without saying anything,” you explained. “And now, I feel like she’s avoiding me.”

“It’s only been a few hours.”

“She’s avoiding me, I’ve been staring at her for at least fifteen minutes and nothing. Not a glance from her.”

“Okay creep. But once again, just talk to her. It would solve all your problems here.”

“She’s the one who doesn’t talk. I talk. A lot!”

“Trust me, I know. I just don’t think Ares kids are the best at talking, you know.”

“Fine.”

But as it turned out, Clarisse mastered the art of avoiding people – you – when she wanted to. Whenever you tried to talk to her, she would disappear. After a few days of trying, you gave up and told everything to Lee.

“If she doesn’t want anything to do with me, then fine by me,” you frowned, holding back your tears.

“I’m sure you’re overthinking this,” he tried to comfort you.

“Oh please,” you huffed. “You saw what happened this morning when I tried to talk to her. I’ll get over it,” you whispered. “I’ll get over her.”

Lee considered himself your best friend, and favourite brother. You never said these things, but he considered you his best friend and favourite sister. And as your best friend he had to do something, he had to talk to Clarisse and give her a piece of his mind. So that night, he was a man on a mission. He walked to the Ares cabin, and waited for Clarisse to either go or or go out.

“Clarisse!” he called her name when she finally left her cabin.

“What do you want, Fletcher?” Clarisse sighed, clearly annoyed.

“Oh, so you do speak. And here I thought you lost that ability,” he snickered.

“I will punch you in the face.”

Lee rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I’m not scared, unlike you.”

“What–.”

“You’re scared to talk to y/n for whatever reason, and I need you to pluck up the courage to talk to her because you’re making her miserable by avoiding her.”

“I–,” she froze.

Was she making you miserable?

“You’re just doing your thing and going to her when you need, when you want but have you ever thought about what she was thinking? No. You would if you’d just listened to her, but no,” he made a big gesture, “avoiding her like the plague.”

“Why are you telling me this?” she mumbled, looking away.

“I’m telling you that you made a mistake, and if you continue down this path you’re going to lose her for good. I’m not saying this for you, because I couldn’t care less about you, but y/n is my sister and I want her to be happy and for some reason you are making her happy,” he rolled his eyes, “so do whatever you want with this information.”

Clarisse stood there, not saying anything, watching Lee walking away. But then he stopped and turned around to walk toward her again.

“Before I forget,” Lee added before throwing his strongest punch in her face. “For making my sister cry.”

And he ran away, before Clarisse could punch him back. But Clarisse was too busy thinking about you to think about Lee and what he just did. If it weren’t for that afternoon in the infirmary, she probably would’ve ran to you so you could take care of her, but now, she couldn’t. So she went to sleep, wishing that tomorrow it’ll be better.

You were one of the first campers to arrive for breakfast. You ate slowly, and by the time the dining pavilion was filled with campers, you were done. But you stayed and listened to your siblings talk. Just as you were about to leave, Clarisse came in and you dropped your fork in shock. She had a black eye and her cheek was bruised, with her nose in a weird shape. She looked at you, as you stood urgently. But then you froze – should you go to her? You sat back down, still staring at Clarisse.

“What happened to her?” Will whispered to you.

“I don’t know,” you whispered back.

“You don’t? I thought you were friends.”

“Yea, me too,” you sighed.

Clarisse was walking to her table, dragging her feet along and when she walked past the Apollo table, you stood and grabbed hand, forcing her to face you. When you noticed several heads staring at you, you dragged Clarisse away and brought her to the archery field.

“What happened to your face?” you held her face in your hands.

“Nothing,” she leaned into your touch.

“Clarisse,” you whispered. “Just talk to me please.”

“Lee came to have a little chat with me yesterday.”

“He did this?” you gasped.

“Yeah.”

You held your hand to your mouth, in shock and to hide a tiny part of you that wanted to laugh.

“And?” you asked.

“He said I was making you miserable.”

“That’s not true!” you insisted.

“I ignored you. And I shouldn't have. I don’t–” she hesitated, “want to lose you,” she mumbled.

“Then just talk to me, we’re friends too.”

“I– I don’t know,” she stepped back and took a deep breath. “I was confused! I– I don’t know I like it when you take care of me,” she admitted in a low voice. “I’m being weird and–.”

“You’re not,” you held her arms. “It’s not weird to love physical touch. I mean, I just assumed that it was your love language you know.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“I think what you like is when I hold you or when I touch you because you love physical touch,” you began, “and you were doing everything to visit me, pretending to be a bad fighter and getting hurt on purpose.”

“No that’s no–,” she shook her head.

“It’s fine! My love language is quality time, and there’s nothing wrong—.”

“No it’s different–.”

“It’s not! It’s fi—.”

“It’s because I like you,” she blurted out.

Oh. You couldn’t help but smile at her confession.

“It’s not funny!” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“I’m not laughing! I’m… happy about this outcome,” you rested your head against her arms and looked up. “Because I like you too Clarisse.”

“Really?” she stared at you.

You nodded.

“I’m sorry about ignoring you,” she added.

“Mmh,” you smiled, “I accept your apology. But you’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Anything you want.”

“A kiss?”

Clarisse uncrossed her arms and held your face instead and leaned in to kiss you eagerly. And you happily gave in, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“Mmh, keep doing that and I’ll forgive you, no doubt.”

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue fanfic #clarisse x you #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue pjo #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue #pjo x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue x fem!reader

540 notes · View notes

hippiegoth97 · 2 months ago

Text

Time of the Season: Eddie Munson x Reader

Collage by me :)

Master List

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

@morgthemagpie @josephquinnsfreckles @jenniquinn @userchai @cometzombie

@spookybabey @daggerdaggerkitten @nina6708 @sanctumdemunson @yourdailymemedelivery

@person-005 @slowandsteddie @gri959 @elegantkoalapaper @letitgoandletlive

@loserboysandlithium @costellation-hunter @leelei1980 @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever

@ohmeg @stalactitekilla @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne @oneforthemunny

@prettyboyeddiemunson @eddievanmunson @msgexymunson @rattkween86 @violetpixiedust

@bimbobaggins69 @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @bimbogorewhore

@mediocredreams @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @ali-r3n @emxxblog

Description: The one and only Steve Harrington is hosting a party at his house on Halloween night. You help set up and attend said party with your best friend Robin, and you're dressed up as Joan Jett. While you're drinking and dancing, you notice a very handsome man dressed as Ace Frehley from KISS making eyes at you as he leans against the wall. You approach him, and after a little chat and a dance, you make your way to somewhere more private...

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, female reader, teasing, groping, suggestive dancing, alcohol and Marijuana use, shotgunning, fingering, oral sex, role-play (kinda?), role-switching, praise/degradation, spanking, consecutive orgasms, (very) rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, choking, squirting, and a tiny dash of fluff

Word Count: 10.2k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Time of the Season

"Fuck! Have either of you seen my aviators?" Steve asks, walking into his room as you and Robin are getting ready for his Halloween party. He stands in the doorway, donning his Maverick flight suit from Top Gun and some combat boots.

"No, dingus. We've been a little preoccupied with our own costumes, thank you very much." Robin replies, applying some red lipstick to finish off her Debbie Harry ensemble. You'd helped her volumize her hair to get the right texture, and in return she helped you straighten and feather yours for your Joan Jett costume. You've dressed up as her iconic I Love Rock 'n Roll album cover, it's one of your favorite records. You were lucky enough to find the perfect fuschia blazer at the second-hand store, making it impossible to mistake you for somebody else.

"Sorry, Stevie. I can help you look, once I'm done stabbing myself in the eye with this damn pencil. I'd hate for your Tom Cruise fantasy to be blown apart. Plus, I know you love wearing sunglasses indoors." You always tease Steve, but you do it with love. You've bonded with him and Robin the last couple years, always hanging out and working with them at the video store. You'd had classes with Robin during senior year, and she asked you to help her study. And King Steve had taken you out on a date once, far be it from you to deny Hawkins High royalty your company. That was an awkward experience to say the least, you two had zero romantic chemistry. But you liked being around one another, and shared some common interests. So, friendship was the only logical option.

"Thanks, Y/N. At least somebody wants to be helpful today." Steve says, glaring at Robin in the reflection of the mirror. She sticks her tongue out as a retort, fluffing her hair a teensy bit more until she's satisfied with it. "And hey! It's not a fantasy, I basically am the Tom Cruise of this hick town. I gotta fight the ladies off with a stick sometimes, they just can't get enough of me." He speaks in a cocky tone, and you and Robin collectively roll your eyes.

"Not us, though. We're probably the only two women in Hawkins who can resist your charms, Harrington." You put your eyeliner back into the bag you brought your costume in, turning to face him. "Alright, where did you leave your sunglasses last?" You ask, scanning around his room to see if he was dumb enough to leave them in plain sight. It literally takes one second to locate them, sitting on his damn nightstand. "Nevermind, found 'em." You point to them with a smug grin, and Steve scoffs before looking where you've indicated.

His eyebrows furrow in annoyance, snatching them off the table. "Dammit." He grumbles, slipping them onto his face in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. He storms off downstairs to finish getting the booze and snacks set out, the party starts in about ten minutes.

"I could've told him that, I noticed them sitting there hours ago." Robin says, and you both share a laugh.

"That better not be at my expense, assholes!" Steve shouts from downstairs, which only makes you laugh harder.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Stevie!" You call back, trying to speak clearly through your guffawing. "You're so bad, Robin." You say to her, quietly enough so he won't hear you.

"I never said I was good." She quips. "I suppose we better help him out, people will start showing up soon." You nod, following her lead down the stairs to the kitchen. You find Steve mixing up a slime green concoction in a large punch bowl, and he's currently dumping two large bottles of vodka into it.

"Why does the punch look like swamp water?" You ask, scrunching your nose.

"Ecto-Cooler, duh!" He says, gesturing at the mass of empty juice boxes in the trash. "It's also got Sprite, a little orange juice, and lots of vodka."

"Jesus, you're really trying to get everyone hammered, aren't you?" Your eyes bug out as you watch him fill the bowl practically to the brim with all that booze.

"Of course! What kind of Harrington rager would tonight be without it?" Steve speaks matter-of-factly, tossing the glass bottles into the garbage. He carefully stirs everything up with the ladle, almost spilling the punch everywhere in the process.

"Fair enough." You pick up a plastic cup, taking the ladle from him to taste the green mess. You figure it needs a quality check before it's deemed suitable for party-goer consumption. You look at it swirling around your cup questioningly, before bringing it to your lips. It's surprisingly good, not tasting of alcohol whatsoever. You down the whole thing, letting out a satisfied sound once you swallow. "Fuck, that's good. Very dangerous though, can't taste anything but the juice."

"That's the point, my dear Y/N." He takes your cup, refilling it for you before serving one for Robin and himself. Not a moment later, the doorbell rings. The guests are beginning to arrive. "Hey, can you get the music going while I get the door?" He asks, and you nod agreeably. You head over to the stereo, Steve has the best music setup you've ever seen. It can play any format imaginable, and the sound system is the best that money can buy. You've been tempted to steal it for yourself at times, you'd never be able to afford such a thing on your own. You pop in one of your primo party mixtapes, putting the volume up as high as you can without distorting the sound. The music kicks on, roaring guitar blasting into your face.

You've always been a major rock 'n roll fan, there’s just something about the sound of an electric guitar that drives you wild. It fills you with adrenaline, surging through your veins to compel your body to move. Metal, thrash, punk, glam, psychedelic, you love it all. If it's rock music, it speaks to your soul. Over the next hour or so, the house gradually fills up with the costumed masses. Everyone's guzzling the punch, and you and Robin have had a couple glasses each. You've got a good buzz going, dancing goofily with her and Steve in the sea of bodies. He's had a bit more to drink than you, bumping into people clumsily as he moves to the music.

"Hey, that guy over there has been watching you for a while." Robin shouts in your ear, subtly drawing your attention to a man leaning back against the wall with a cup in his hand. His gaze is striking when you meet it, and he smiles while lifting his cup to acknowledge you.

"He's really cute! I don't recognize him though, most people here went to high school with us. Do you know who he is?" You shout back, smirking in his direction as you look him over. He seems oddly familiar, but you can't quite place him. He's dressed to the nines as Ace Frehley, who just happens to be one of your favorite musicians. He's got long, dark hair, dramatic makeup applied just right, and a space-age jumpsuit with matching boots to top it all off. You wave at him, the alcohol in your system overriding the shyness that would usually be clouding over your mind.

He chuckles, waving back before looking away bashfully. Well, he's certainly handsome, and charming, as far as you can tell. "I have no clue, could be anybody under all that makeup. You should go talk to him!" Robin nudges you, and you stumble forward a couple steps. You blush madly, hoping he didn't see that.

"Alright, I'm goin' in." You say to Robin, straightening your blazer while taking a deep breath to prepare yourself. You strut over to him confidently, clearing a way through the crowd to reach this mystery man. You lean beside him once you make your way over, and he turns to look at you. "Nice costume, Ace." You say, looking him up and down. God, he's even hotter up close. He's got huge brown eyes that stare into your soul, setting your insides on fire as he meets your gaze.

"Thanks. You're lookin' pretty good yourself, Joan." He replies, earning a giggle from you. You're so glad he knows who you're supposed to be, nobody else has managed to guess it correctly. Everyone else thinks you're one of the goddamn Ramones.

"Are you having a good time?" You ask, wondering why he's being such a wallflower. You move a little closer, oddly drawn to him.

"I am now." He replies, his tongue playing at the corner of his mouth in amusement. Damn, he really is charming. Usually a line like that would fall flat as a pancake for you, but the way he says it sounds so sincere.

"Not really one for parties then, I take it?" He shakes his head, taking a sip from his cup.

"Nah, 'King Steve' over there wanted me to supply certain recreational substances for quite a hefty fee. And far be it from me to miss out on a Harrington rager on Halloween. It's impeccable for business." 'Ace' speaks so smoothly to you, his voice slipping into your ears like dark velvet. You're not even put off by him revealing himself to be a drug dealer, you're not one to judge. Especially since you like to partake in such things on a semi-regular basis.

"Ah, an entrepreneur, huh? I'm not just another sale, am I?" You ask, not meaning to be accusatory. You're just genuinely curious, wondering what this interaction could lead to later on.

"Nah, I'd never make such a pretty girl pay. Especially not one dressed up as one of the best musicians of our time." He replies, taking his turn to inch closer now. He peers down at you as his boots give him a considerable boost in his height, reaching forward to stroke your arm gently. It's innocent enough, he's just being friendly. But you'd be lying if you said you aren't starting to sweat inside your costume.

"You wanna dance?" You ask abruptly, thinking he'll probably say no. He's just about to reply when “I Was Made For Lovin' You” comes on over the stereo. His expression is apprehensive, but you hold out your hand like it's nothing at all. "Come on, they're playing your song, Ace." He nods, chugging the rest of his drink and crumpling the cup before dropping it on the ground. He takes you up on your offer, letting you lead him to the dance floor. You find a decent spot, slinging your arms over his shoulders. His hands go to your waist out of instinct, but he's very unsure of himself now.

"I'm not much of a dancer, Joan." He says awkwardly, but you just smile kindly at him.

"That's okay, just follow my lead." You guide him to sway side to side to the beat, and he's thankfully able to keep up. You bounce back and forth, loosening up gradually. He smiles at you as you hold him close, actually enjoying himself. He's even singing along, and he's got a great voice for it. It sends a chill down your spine as he recites the words in your ear. Given the message of the song, he's basically singing about how much he wants to fuck you. Halfway through the song, you let his shoulders go, turning around to press your back against his chest. He almost stops holding your hips, but you keep his hands in place. You maintain a steady pace, casually rubbing your ass against his crotch as the song plays out. You hear him moan against you, which sends a jolt of electricity between your legs.

The song ends, quickly transitioning into “I Wanna Be Your Dog'”. "They're playing your song now, Jett." He says, biting your earlobe. You whimper at the sensation, unable to believe how hot you're feeling right now. You move sensually against him, sliding up and down his body while the suggestive lyrics leave your lips. You take hold of his hands, running them all over you at the opportune times with the song. From your thighs to your breasts, you teasingly let him feel you up. His stiff cock is poking into you, and you're becoming very wet with every single motion the two of you make. You turn back around, stroking his chest seductively while leaning up to sing into his ear.

"So messed up, I want you here." Every break between the lyrics amplifies the impact of what you croon to him. "And in my room, I want you here." You lick his neck as the guitar slams before the next line. His breath shudders onto you, your boldness makes his head spin in the best possible way. "And now we're gonna be face to face." You look in his eyes as you sing this one, poking your tongue out to lick his bottom lip playfully. He just stares in awe of you, his hands grabbing your ass through your leather pants. "And I'll lay right down in my favorite place." Your hand snakes down, ghosting over his erection. "Yeah, you know what that is." You squeeze him gently, and he moans again. Your arms return to his shoulders after a moment, singing the chorus while keeping intense eye contact with him until the song fades away.

He's positively burning with lust, eager to lead you away from the crowd to somewhere more private once you've finished. "C'mon." He says, tightly gripping your hand as he pulls you out of the ocean surrounding you. He's unsure where to go from here, and you take the reins.

"Upstairs, this way." You stammer, unable to wrap your head around how vulgar you'd just been acting with 'Ace' in front of everyone. Although, you're not sure how many people were actually paying attention due to how strong that punch is. You practically run up the steps, anxious to be alone with him. You don't even know each other's real names, but you just know you want to fuck his brains out. It's a party, and you have every intention of making the most of it. You locate Steve's parents room, not wanting to violate his own with this handsome man you’ve managed to capture the attention of. "In here." You practically yank him inside, making him trip over his platform boots.

"Jesus, someone's excited." He quips, quickly maneuvering himself to land on the bed as opposed to the floor. You let his hand go, shutting the door and clicking the lock. You're about to pounce onto the bed, when he takes you by surprise. He pins you against the door, gripping your wrists and holding them above your head. "You've gotta be the sexiest girl I've ever met, and I don't even know your name." He speaks lowly, citrus-scented breath fanning over your face.

"Sure you do, it's Joan." You reply, practically panting as your eyes flick to his lips. You're not sure you want to give up the act just yet. You don't know if he'd like you as yourself, it's better to keep playing pretend. He chuckles at you, even more turned on than before.

"I see, you wanna play it that way? That's fine, I can be ‘Ace’ all night if you want me to." He plants a tantalizing kiss to your lips, just long enough to take your breath away. He lets go of your hands, backing up until his ankles hit the edge of the bed. His boots clomp loudly on the floor as he walks, reminding you of Frankenstein's monster which makes you laugh. "Come here, baby." He gestures at a spot for you, and you happily take it. You sit as close to him as you can, hoping he'll make a real move soon. He pulls out a joint and a small lighter from somewhere in his costume, maybe he has a secret pocket sewn into it. You can tell he's not quite loosened up enough yet, hopefully the weed will calm his jangled nerves. He puts the blunt between his lips, igniting the end. He takes a long puff from it, turning to you. "You ever shotgun before?" He asks, voice strained from holding the smoke in.

"Yeah." You say simply, and he gently takes hold of your chin. You're met with those impossibly large brown eyes again, utterly spellbound. You open your mouth slightly as he positions you, closing your eyes as you prepare yourself for him to kiss you. His painted lips meet yours, and he blows the smoke into your mouth. You suck it in, holding it as best you can before letting it flow back out into the air. He's about to take another puff to do it again, but you grab the sides of his head to smash your lips onto his. He almost drops the blunt, not expecting you to be so ravenous. He returns the kiss, smudging his makeup all around your face as you bite his lower lip. He gasps, letting you slip your tongue through the opening he gave you. He tastes so fucking good, like tobacco, weed and orange juice.

He fights you for dominance, quickly winning out. You moan into the kiss, wanting him to take you now. But you suppose it's not polite to waste a man's pot, so you pull away. He smiles at his face paint leaving a large streak across your chin and mouth, handing you the joint. "Here you go, angel. Let's focus on one thing at a time, and then we can do whatever you want. 'Kay?" He speaks so kindly to you, he's nothing like any other guy you've hooked up with. You take another hit, looking forward to the mixed buzz of weed and booze. You hand it back over, letting the smoke out in a large cloud when you can't hold it any longer.

"I hope this isn't weird, but I swear I know you from somewhere. I can't quite place you, though." You speak quietly, just watching him smoke. His beautifully applied makeup is a bit fucked now, the black and white mixing into a gray hue. You still think he looks sexy as hell, but you kinda wish you knew who you were getting high with.

"It's not weird at all, I can't say I can figure you out either. I mean, I imagine we went to school together. Probably kept to different circles though, not talking to each other even once. But that's alright, better late than never, I always say." He puts a hand on your thigh, squeezing it gently. It only serves to heat you up further, and you slide your blazer off your shoulders. "Feeling a little warm, Joan?" He asks, giving you a sly look. You just nod, blushing wildly as you set it aside.

You take turns passing the blunt back and forth, shotgunning a few more times as you can't get enough of each other's mouths. Before you know it, it's all burned away and the world is moving in slow motion. You've laid down together, legs hanging off the edge of the bed as you stare mindlessly at the ceiling. You're zoned out, only hearing the sounds of your breathing and the din of the party continuing downstairs. You almost forget he's here at all, when you feel his hand on your thigh again. You turn your head to look at him, noticing he's laying on his side to caress you. His head is propped on his hand, elbow dipping into the bed. "Hey there." You say quietly, your head clouded by the alcohol and the drugs as his touch makes your skin tingle. You're taking his image in again, truly appreciating how gorgeous he is.

"Hey." He replies, waiting for your permission to move further. He wants you, in every way you'll give yourself to him. You mirror his position, bringing your legs up onto the bed.

"You're very cute, you know. You're also very odd, though." He quirks an eyebrow at you, confused as to what you mean.

"Oh? In what way?"

"Well, you're kind of a contradiction. You're simultaneously quite confident, but also very unsure of yourself. It's not a bad thing though, I'm highly attracted to odd things." You speak in a seductive tone, peering at him from under your eyelashes. You reach a hand forward, delicately dragging your finger along his body. The material of his costume feels strange under your skin, it's slick and shiny, but not quite leather or latex.

"I'm glad you find me so fascinating, baby. And yeah, I'm usually a pretty cool guy." He says sarcastically, not taking his own words seriously. "But it's not every day that I encounter such a beautiful creature like yourself. The moment I saw you, it really threw me for a loop." He takes your hand in his, still apprehensive to give you both what you so desperately want.

You're growing impatient, you've had an unbearably strong pressure building inside you from the moment you started talking to him. "You can come closer, I don't bite." You smirk at him, hoping he'll accept your invitation. "Not too hard, anyway." You joke, laying back onto the bed to draw him in.

"Aw, that's too bad. I happen to like it rough." He quips back, drawing a brief giggle from both of you. He follows your lead again, adjusting himself to lay over you slightly. He strokes your cheek lightly, gazing deep into your eyes. "Forgive me if this is corny, but you really are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"It is a little bit, but it's really sweet. You're also the most handsome man I've seen. Now shut up and gimme a 'KISS'." You reply with a laugh, weed always makes you want to say bad puns. You pull on the elastic fabric of his costume, bringing his mouth onto yours. You instantly melt at how warm and soft his lips are, and he moves to fully position himself over you. His hands wander to your chest, shifting your bandana and chain out of the way so he can grope your tits. You moan against him, grabbing the back of his head to tangle your fingers in his hair. You gently tug on his beautiful locks, and he makes very attractive sounds in response.

His knee goes between your legs, rubbing against your clothed heat. You let out another moan, only to have it swallowed up as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. He's driving you crazy, giving you so many sensations at once. Your drug-addled mind can't get enough, all you can think is more, more, more. His lips migrate to your neck, leaving a trail of his makeup along the way. You can feel it smudging all over your skin, but you're oddly aroused by it. He's leaving traces behind, marking you as his, at least temporarily. "Those pretty noises you're making are so fuckin’ sexy, Joan." He speaks darkly between kisses on your throat, drinking in every single moan and gasp you let out.

"Your touch feels so good, baby." You say breathlessly before he bites down on your neck. "Fuck! I need more." You almost yelp at the pain, but it simmers into a feral hunger. You pull harder on his hair, yanking a beautiful, vulgar noise from his throat. He's not afraid to make sounds like most guys are, and it just makes you even wetter than before. His knee continues to grind against you, ramping you up. He stops kissing you, sitting up a bit to pull at the hem of your shirt. You happily let him remove it, anxious to feel his large hands massaging your breasts. He reaches behind your back to undo your bra, discarding that as well. His eyes bulge at the sight of your bare chest, appreciating the sheer beauty of it. "See something you like?" You ask cheekily, blushing as he gawks.

"Yes." His eyes meet yours, and he nods while smirking at you. He quickly begins planting wet kisses all over your chest, painting you even further with reckless strokes of black and white. His tongue swirls around one of your nipples, before he sucks it into his mouth.

"Oh, Ace." You moan out, feeling a bit silly saying his pseudonym in such a dirty way. But you suppose that's part of the fun, letting the thrill of pretending to be someone else overtake you. That's what Halloween is all about, right?

"Mmm, I love it when you say my name, baby." He smirks against your flesh, moving over to give your other breast equal attention. He's so hard inside his costume, unable to believe he's got you writhing helplessly underneath him. Part of him wants to take his time with you, slow and gentle. But the other part? Well, that second, darker part of him wants to fuck you senseless until you scream. He's battling with himself, wanting to be a gentleman for your sake. But he keeps the notion in the back of his mind that, if you ask, he'll gladly let his primal half take hold. "Let's get the rest of these clothes off, hm?" He gets up from the bed, going to the end to unzip your heeled boots. He slips them off your feet, letting them drop carelessly to the floor. He grabs your ankles, pulling you so your legs dangle off the edge once more.

The motion startles you, and you let out a small shriek of surprise. He falls forward, catching himself on his hands on either side of your head. His crotch grinds against yours, and your mouth falls open to release more cries of pleasure. "More." You almost whine at him, and he chuckles darkly. He crushes his lips onto yours, giving in to his animal instinct a little to test the waters. You respond well to it, digging your nails into his scalp. You expect him to slip you the tongue again, but he doesn't. Instead, his lips slowly travel through the valley between your breasts, all the way down to your navel. He teasingly dips his tongue into it, which you don't expect to find hot. But it surprisingly is, making you gasp.

His hands quickly unbutton your leather pants, sliding them down your long legs. His breath hitches when he sees you're not wearing any panties underneath. He's getting a perfect view of your pussy as he's removing the remaining item of clothing. You're so wet and shiny for him, he can't wait to dive right in. "God, you're perfect." He says in complete and total awe of you, breaking his stare to glance at you for a moment.

"Thank you." You smile awkwardly, your cheeks turning deep red. He's so complimentary, taking every chance to tell you just how beautiful you are to him. He bends down to take off his own boots, they've been killing his feet all night. Once they're discarded, he kneels before you. You take your cue to spread your legs, letting him grip your thighs to sling them over his shoulders. Most of the paint around his mouth has been wiped away onto your own skin, but you don't really care where it ends up at this point. You just want him, all of him. You're panting in anticipation, waiting for him to start eating you out. His warm breath fans over your clit, the sensation is dialed up to eleven from the weed. He licks an apprehensive stripe from your hole to your sensitive bud. "Fuck." You groan, letting your eyes roll to the back of your head, balling the blankets with your fists.

"Mmm." He hums against you, sending a thrum of vibration through your cunt. You gasp, arching your back off the bed. His hand lays on your stomach to hold you down, and he's licking you back and forth at a healthy pace. His mouth feels so good on your most sensitive parts, the perfect amount of pressure and speed to build up your orgasm. His tongue slips into your cunt, something you've never had anyone do to you before. This man is just chock-full of surprises, and you love every second of it.

"Fuck, your mouth is amazing." Your head pushes into the mattress, hair splayed about like loose threads. You're getting closer and closer to the finish line, and he hums at your praise to push you further. You taste so good on his tongue, sweet and musky. He'd go like this for hours, if he wasn't nearly bursting with the need to sink his cock deep inside you. He increases his speed, wanting to make you cum. He wants to see how pretty you look when you lose control. "Just like that, baby. Oh, God. Don't stop." You whimper, your skin slicking over in a thin sheen of sweat. He scans over your body as he continues working you up, admiring how fucked-out you are for him. Damp hair clinging to your face, eyes screwed shut as your mouth sits agape to let out to dirtiest noises he's ever heard. Your knuckles bright white from strangling the covers, chest heaving up and down as you await your bliss. He wishes he had a camera, this has gotta be one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.

The waves you know so well are crashing into you, washing through your body in the most delicious way. "You gonna cum for me, Joan?" He asks, taking only a second to speak before returning to his task.

"Uh-huh. Keep going, I'm so fuckin' close." He obeys the command, picking up the speed just a tiny bit more to send you flying off the edge. "Oh, my god. Oh, fuck!" You cry out, insides clenching around nothing as your high overtakes you. Your legs tremble, threatening to clamp onto his head. He laps up your juices, his continued contact on you makes your cunt spark. Exploding stars have blinded you, twinkling in your vision while you ride this out.

He pulls away, letting you come back down to earth. His hands stroke your thighs gently to ground you, you find that his touch is so comforting. "You taste so good, sweetheart." You can't get enough of the cute little names he calls you, angel, sweetheart. They're so simple, but quite endearing.

When your breathing mostly returns to normal and your sweat has turned cold, you sit up to look at him. He's still on his knees, with your legs resting on his shoulders. He's smiling up at you, and you mirror it. "You're very good at that, Ace." You compliment him, moving your legs so your feet can touch the floor. You cup his beautiful face with your hands, leaning forward to give him a tender kiss. The position is a bit uncomfortable, so you slide off the bed to straddle him on the floor. He grunts as his back hits the hardwood, hands gripping your hips roughly. You can feel his dick pressing against your dripping pussy, grinding yourself against him out of instinct. He groans into the kiss, squeezing your flesh with his hands. He might leave bruises, but you can't be bothered to care at the moment. "Is there a zipper on this thing somewhere? I gotta get you out of this suit." You say frantically, biting his neck harshly.

"Fuck. Yeah, it's in the back." He's boiling in the damn thing, anxious to take it off. You suck his flesh into a dark purple bruise, releasing it once you're satisfied with how it looks. You ease off, letting him sit up so you can unzip his costume. You return to his lap, reaching behind to pull the zipper down his back. You slowly reveal his bare skin, pressing wet kisses on every inch as you uncover it. The top of the suit bunches at his waist, and you're feeling up his beautiful chest and admiring his tattoos.

"Nice tats, baby. They're very sexy." You trace them with your tongue, nipping his skin playfully between your teeth.

"Thanks, I notice you don't have any though. Such a shame, I think they'd suit you well." His fingers stroke your sides seductively, the lightest of touches making you shiver.

"I've always wanted some, but I don't make much money. They cost quite a bit, and I have other needs to fulfill." You reach between his legs, groping his erection again. He groans at your touch, eyes burning into yours with lust. You keep his gaze, sliding your hand up to go inside his suit to feel him fully. You gasp as you realize he's also been going commando, gripping his length greedily. "Speaking of needs, you want me to suck your dick, hot stuff?" Your tongue plays at the edge of your mouth, tempting him to let you have your way.

"If you want to." He replies with a shrug.

"Gee, that's real enthusiastic, Ace." You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

"Sorry, you're so forward, it throws me off." Your face falls slightly, worried you've spooked him. "No, no. I like it, trust me. It's very hot. I'm just not used to it, I guess." He rubs his neck awkwardly, not meaning to put a damper on things. Your hand is still in his pants, and you start stroking him again.

"I see. Are you trying to hold back with me? You've been pretty anxious this whole time." You bring your face dangerously close to his, watching as he lets out filthy noises while you slowly jerk him off.

"Maybe. I don't wanna be too rough with you. I like you, a lot." His voice stutters, loving every touch you give him.

"Let me assure you, I can take it." You poke your tongue out to lick his lips. "So, stop being such a gentleman, and tell me what you want." You take his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling on it to give him as clear a message as you can. He clears his throat, taking a moment to compose himself despite your hand deliciously working him up.

"I want you to blow me, sweetheart. I bet that pretty mouth of yours is really good at it." He smirks, letting that other side of him take the wheel.

You chuckle lowly, excited that he's finally letting his inhibitions fall to the wayside. All it took was a little push. "That's what I like to hear, baby. How 'bout you take that suit all the way off, and I'll get into position?" You give him a brief kiss, letting his dick fall from your grasp. He whines at the loss, but happily listens to your instructions. You get back onto the bed, laying on your back with your head hanging upside-down off the edge. You watch him fully undress, eyes widening when he reveals his cock to you.

"See something you like, angel?" He asks, looking up to see you in your odd position. "Jesus christ. You're a kinky little thing, aren't you?" He's never seen a woman so willingly lay herself to have her face used like a fucktoy, you really are something special.

"It took you until now to figure that out? Damn, I guess I don't dance as well as I thought." You tease, beckoning him over with your finger. He happily walks over to you, giving his length a couple needy strokes before positioning himself to enter your mouth.

"You ready, baby?" He asks, waiting for you to open those pretty lips of yours. You allow him access, licking the precum from his head before he shoves himself down your throat. "Fuck." He groans, gagging you as he hits deep within your hole. You swirl your tongue around his length, stimulating him while he gets used to how hot and wet you feel around him. He holds the back of your head with his hand, the other laying on the bed. He gradually pulls out, before sliding back in. "God, you feel amazing." He sighs, unable to believe he's actually fucking your face like this. He starts thrusting rapidly, gagging you repeatedly just the way you like. You love giving head, it gets you so hot and bothered to hear every sexy little noise your mouth and throat can draw from a man's lips. You drag your hand down the front of your body, slipping between your legs to circle your clit. You hum against him at the sensation, still so wet from him going down on you. He takes notice of what you're doing, and it only makes him closer to cumming. "You like it when I fuck your pretty face, Joan? Such a dirty girl, touching yourself like that."

You just moan around him, drinking in his filthy words. Tears sting your eyes as he keeps thrusting into you with great force, an endless stream of curses and uses of your 'name' flowing from his mouth. This whole thing is so fucking hot, you can't resist slipping two fingers into your pussy. "Mmm." You groan around his cock, the vibrations driving him mad. He thrusts harder, faster as he watches you finger yourself. Your free hand massages his balls, gradually feeling them tighten in your grasp. He's very close, you can tell by his thrusts losing coordination. You could get yourself off at the same time, if you just move your fingers a little faster. But you can wait, right now it's about pleasing him. You pull your hand away, tightening your grip on him just a teensy bit to up the stakes.

"Fuck, Joan. Careful with those, I only get two of ‘em." He jokes, though he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel pretty good. You know every possible move to make him go wild, like a goddamn mind reader. He's nearing the end, slamming his cock down your throat as his orgasm creeps up on him. "I'm gonna cum, baby. Be a good girl and swallow." You hum in agreement, eager to have his load shoot into you. He moans loudly as his release rolls over him, his hips bucking erratically against you. His cum runs down your throat with ease, and he stays in your mouth up to the hilt for a moment while he calms down. His hands rest on either side of you, and his breath comes out hot and heavy. It's getting a little uncomfortable to keep him sheathed so deep in you, so you tap his hand with yours to get his attention. "Oh, sorry." He chuckles, slowly pulling out with a groan.

You gasp in air, it’s difficult to have to keep breathing through your nose. Damn fall allergies. "It's alright, Ace. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." You roll over to look at him right-side up, wiping the tears from your eyes. "Come here, we can take a little break until you're ready to go again." You sit up, reaching your arms out to take his hands in yours. He lets you lay him down on the bed, and you cozy up next to him. His arm wraps around you, and you lay sideways to see his handsome face. You're still feeling the weed and alcohol coursing through your system, you find yourself craving this man's touch. You want him inside you, but you want more than anything to know his name. "I think we can stop playing games now. What's your real name, handsome?" You ask quietly, running your fingers up and down his bare chest.

"You first, sweetheart. You started it, so you end it." His eyes bore into yours, a large smirk on his lips. He's daring you, challenging you to smash the illusion away.

"Fair enough, dick." You chuckle, and he laughs as well. "My name...is Y/N. Nice to meet you."

"That's a pretty name, such a shame you wanted to keep it from me." His expression changes, and you wonder if he's figured out whether or not he recognizes you from somewhere. "I'm Eddie, pleased to make your acquaintance." He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of it.

Your eyes widen, you've finally put the final piece of the puzzle into place. Dealing drugs, the tattoos? You've been hooking up with none other than Eddie Munson, resident freak. "Munson?"

"The one and only. Does that change anything?" He's worried you'll kick him to the curb now that you've figured him out, nobody likes to hang around a freak like him. But you seem different, and he hopes he's not wrong.

"No, not at all. I'm just...surprised, I guess? I mean, you just seem like the kinda guy that wouldn't waste his time on a girl like me." You avert your gaze, suddenly not so confident anymore. You've always really liked Eddie, admired him from afar. His cafeteria tantrums always made you laugh, and he'd catch your stare every now and again. He'd always wink and smile at you, which made you absolutely weak in the knees. But you guess you aren't important enough for him to remember.

"Hey, don't say that. I was the one checking you out, remember? Sure, I never would've walked over, but that's only because you can have any guy you want. The town freak is nobody's first choice, Y/N."

"You are to me. I had a major crush on you back in high school. You didn't care what anyone thought or said about you. Your style is bitchin', and you have perfect music taste like no other. I always wanted to talk to you, but I was too scared. I thought you'd laugh at me." You blush at the thought, recalling every chance you had to speak to him. In class, in the hall, at lunch, even when he smoked outside his van in the parking lot after school. So many opportunities, and you never took any of them.

"No way! A crush…on me? I think I would've been able to tell if someone as beautiful as you was interested in me." He thinks back for a moment, trying to remember anyone that would've given him an indication they liked him. He gasps once he puts it together, you were the one that always looked his way in the cafeteria. He could feel your gorgeous eyes burning into him hopelessly, and he'd return your gaze with a wink and a smile. He remembers how flustered you'd get, quickly looking away and blushing like crazy. "Oh my god! You're the one who always stared at me! I think I called you 'sexy stalker' in my head." You both laugh at that, you can't help finding the nickname endearing. "I was always waiting for the day you'd eventually get the courage to come talk to me. You seemed too shy to respond well to me going to you. I didn't want to scare you away."

You scoff, unable to believe that you two could've been together this whole time. "Well, clearly we ended up finding our way to each other. I hate that it took so long, though. If I would've known you liked me back, I would've run right over to that goddamn table and tackled you or something." You giggle, finding this whole thing so ridiculous.

"And you have no idea how many times I wished you would. I used to try and telepathically tell you to come to me, but I guess you never heard it." He chuckles, unable to stop staring at your paint-streaked face. He strokes your cheek oh so gently, the energy in the room is different now. It was heavy, laced with pure lust before. But it's morphed into something deeper. Intense want, need, even. You've both denied yourselves of something that is clearly meant to be, and now is the time to right that mistake. "I really like you, Y/N. Even more so now that I know who you are." He speaks so seriously, trying to let you know he's feeling something deep and meaningful.

"I really like you too, Eddie. It's crazy, to think you're finally right where I've always wanted you to be." You gaze into his eyes, realizing you should've recognized them so much sooner. Costumes and makeup are a hell of a thing, aren't they?

"Where's that, in bed?" Eddie can't resist cracking jokes, the tension between you now is palpable.

"With me. In any way I can have you." You press your lips onto his passionately, essentially confessing that you're in love with him. Well, in like, you suppose. But does that distinction really make much difference? You clearly have potent feelings for each other, and whether it's love, or lust or like, it doesn't matter much to you at the moment. You just want him, you've always wanted him more than anything in the world. Your mouths move in sync, meeting and turning and tonguing perfectly against one another.

"Come here." Eddie says, breaking away just for a moment to pull your body onto his. His cock rests behind your ass, already becoming hard again. He captures your lips with his again, not wanting to stop kissing you. His hands hold your waist, leading you to rub your slick folds against his length. You both moan at the sensation, teasingly ramping things up. You assist in keeping his rhythm, whimpering down his throat when your clit makes contact with him.

"I want you, Eddie." You pull away, leaning down to attack his chest. You're so hungry for him, it's almost unbearable.

"I want you too, Y/N. You have no idea." He watches you move on him, savoring every lick and bite you give his needy flesh.

"Tell me what you wanna do to me." Your peer up at him, a devilish look on your face. You'll let him do whatever he wants, but you want to hear him say it.

"I want to fuck you, sweetheart. Hard and fast. Slow and gentle. Any way you'll let me." His breath stutters as he speaks, and he doesn't stop there. "I want to have you, call you mine. And I want you to call me yours." You're surprised at him, so willingly admitting how he wants to continue seeing you after tonight.

"Your wish is my command, baby. Can you sit up against the headboard for me?" You politely direct him, slipping off his body so he can get in position. He does as you ask, no hesitation to be seen. You love how easily he obeys you, it's typically hard for guys to relinquish even a tiny bit of control. But Eddie gives it away enthusiastically, and it's so fucking hot. "Good boy." You tease, smirking when his cheeks flare red. You tilt your head, fascinated by his reaction. "You like it when I call you that?"

He swallows hard, almost embarrassed. "Yes." He says barely above a whisper, shifting his eyes away from yours. You straddle him again, taking his cock in your hand to regain his attention.

"No need to be so shy, baby. I like a man who's capable of letting go." Eddie looks at you again, softening when he sees your kind smile. You could never judge him for what he likes in bed, you just want to make him feel good. You lift yourself onto your knees, dragging the head of his dick against your dripping cunt. Your breath hitches, anxious to sink down onto him. "You ready, darling?" You ask, needing to be absolutely sure he wants this just as much as you do.

"Yes. Please stop teasing, I need you." He almost whines, hands going to your waist to help guide you. You bring him to your entrance, locking eyes as you slowly slide down until he's fully inside you. "Fuck." He groans, your walls hugging him perfectly.

"Oh, god." Your lungs evacuate themselves of all oxygen, his tip hitting your cervix as you take every last inch of him. You wrap your arms around his neck, still maintaining eye contact. You take a moment to adjust to his size, clenching your insides to push him just a tiny bit further.

"Jesus, Y/N." You're so warm and wet inside, it's mindblowing. He lets you take your time, stroking his hands on your thighs to relax you. You feel yourself loosen up, and you lift up at an agonizing rate, almost letting him fall out before coming back down hard.

"Fuck." You moan, this angle makes him hit your g spot just right. You begin to ride him, slipping up and down steadily. Eddie holds you close to him, planting hot kisses all over your tits as you move. "Oh, Eddie." You love everything he does to you, his mouth is like fucking magic.

"Mmm, I like it when you say my real name, princess." He nips your flesh with his teeth, making you whine. Your head falls forward, concealing your face with your hair. But Eddie wants to see every expression that crosses your face. "Don't hide, baby. I wanna see you enjoying yourself." His voice is gentle, but demanding. You put your head upright once more, letting him see the effect he's having on you. An endless stream of filthy noises and curses leave your supple lips, flowing directly into Eddie's ears. "Good girl. Tell me how it feels." He's taking a more active role now, and you're not complaining. Your mind is scrambling, every little sensation making it that much harder to form coherent thoughts.

"Your dick feels so good inside me, baby. You fill me up so well, it's like you were made for me." You bounce harder on him, your ass smacking against his thighs. A large knot begins to tie itself within your belly, twisting and tangling every time you land on him. You can't help craving something else from him though, he picks up on your change in expression.

"Is there something else you want, sweetheart? I'll give you anything you desire." His voice is low and husky, eyes blown out with unbridled lust. Eddie loves what you're currently doing, but he wants to let his inner beast out of its cage and absolutely ravage you.

"I want you to fuck me from behind, just go as hard as you can. I can tell you're holding back again, but I want you to wreck me. Let the animal out, claim me as yours. Please?" You can't believe you're begging him like this, far be it from you to beg a man for anything. But you can't fight what you want, for that will always be a losing battle.

"You got it, baby. Get on your hands and knees for me." He answers, patting your thigh for you to move. You nod, ceasing your bouncing to carefully slide off of his cock. You hold back a whine from the loss of contact, focusing on getting into position. You turn around, arching your back to display yourself to him. Eddie gets onto his knees, crawling up behind you. He lowers his head, taking you by surprise as he licks a long stripe from your clit to your hole.

"Fuck, Eddie." You moan out, gripping the edge of the mattress roughly in your hands. He shocks you again, shoving two fingers into your cunt. "Jesus christ." He's toying with you, drawing it out. Although, you can't say it's not working for you. He lays his chest over your back, speaking into your ear with a low growl.

"Beg me to fuck you, sweetheart. Be a good little slut for me." That's the first time he's pulled that one out this evening, and it only makes you more turned on. Arousal drips from your pussy, running down his hand and wrist to his elbow.

"Please fuck me, Eddie. I need you, I want you so bad." You can't believe how pitiful you sound, almost pathetic. The tone in your voice makes his cock twitch, it takes everything in him to resist plunging into you at full force just yet. He pumps his digits into you, wanting to set you off one more time before taking what he wants. "Eddie, please. I'm not gonna last much longer." You feel the knot threatening to snap, winding up tighter and tighter as he fingers you mercilessly.

"Oh, I know, darling. I want you to be a good girl and cum for me first." He stops laying over you, sitting on his knees while placing his free hand on your back.

"God, you're such a tease." You joke, which earns you an unexpected smack on your ass. The pleasurable sting makes you gasp, which quickly morphs into a lewd moan. "Fuck, do that again." He does, this time on your other cheek. Any second now, you're going to lose it. He picks up the pace, going as hard as he can without hurting you. "Oh, baby. You're gonna make me cum. You feel so fucking good."

"Go on then, make a mess for me. Such a filthy little slut, begging me to spank you, and finger you, and fuck you. Such a needy little thing, desperate for anything I give you." His words are what it takes to sever the strings, the knot bursting into a million tiny pieces.

"Eddie!" You scream, overcome with pure ecstasy. Your legs shake violently, and your pussy clamps down on his fingers as juices spill out of you and onto the bed.

"That's it, you're such a good girl for me." He coos, slipping his fingers out of you before shoving his cock in right after.

"Oh my god!" You cry out, you're still in the aftershocks of your orgasm. But Eddie has no plans of letting up, immediately pounding himself into your pulsing cunt. The pleasure doesn't stop, it just rolls over to build up another hit.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me." He groans, feeling you quiver around him. He wants to wear you out, make you cum over and over while screaming his name. He holds your hips in a bruising grip, slamming himself against you viciously. Eddie's dick hits your sweet-spot again and again, and all you can do is moan while holding on for dear life.

It doesn't take long before your legs threaten to give out again, your third orgasm of the night rocking through your body. "FUCK!" You shout, your insides strangling Eddie's length. More juices spurt out of you, making him groan as they wash over him and spill down his thighs.

"Fuck, Y/N. Good girl, it feels so good when you soak my cock." You're getting him closer to the finish line, but he still doesn't stop. He goes even faster, just like you wanted. You've never had someone go so fast and so hard like this, snatching orgasms from you one after another. It's like nothing you've ever experienced before, you're still riding the wave while a brand new one begins building right underneath. You can't believe how hard and how much you keep cumming for him, but you have no intention of stopping until he's finished.

"Baby, can you choke me? I'd love to feel your big, strong hand around my neck." You hope that's not weird to ask for, you're not sure he'll be into it.

"Anything for you, my dirty little slut." Eddie reaches forward, easily wrapping his fingers around your throat. He applies light pressure, cutting off your oxygen just the slightest bit to test your limits. Your head feels light, and you give him a loud moan. "God, you're such a perfect little freak for me." You're eating up his praises, every single thing he says is music to your ears. He squeezes a little harder, still thrusting like a jackhammer to bring himself to his own end.

You can tell he's getting close, his pace begins to stutter as his high approaches. And the feeling of his hand around your neck while he fucks you senseless is putting you right there with him. "Fuck me harder, I wanna cum with you."

"You got it, angel. I'm almost there." He snaps his hips even harder, the contact of skin to skin stinging the two of you. You're both sweating profusely, making it difficult to maintain your position. Obscenely loud moans and slapping of flesh fill the room, drowning out the bumping bass downstairs. You're sure someone can hear you, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is getting this final, intense orgasm with the man of your dreams.

You feel the wave threatening to crash over you, you've never been so incredibly built up before. You're worried you might die, everything feels too fucking good. Eddie reaches between your legs, circling your clit to seal your fate. "Oh, god. Fuck! EDDIE!" You scream so loud, it sounds like you're in pain. But that couldn't be further from the truth. An absolute flood of cum explodes from you, soaking yours and Eddie's legs and the bed beneath you. Tears spring from your eyes, you're becoming overstimulated. Your walls snap around him harder than ever before, milking his cock for all its worth.

"Y/N!" He cries out, you've really done a number on him. You're squeezing the life out of him, and his load mixes with the massive downpour of cum that soaks everything. He can't stop himself from bucking into you erratically as he rides out his own high, which just keeps the fluid pouring out of you. You're sobbing at this point, it's almost too much. Eddie slows down, regaining control once the pleasure subsides. You collapse on the bed, slipping off of his dick. You can barely move, or think. And all you see is stars. "You okay, Y/N?" He asks, noticing how much you resemble a starfish at the moment.

"Mmhmm." Is all you can say, as your limbs are now made of mush with no bones to be found. Satisfied with your answer, he falls backwards to catch his breath. Your hearts pound so loud, you can hear them in your ears.

Suddenly there's knocking in the door, and you notice the music has stopped. "Y/N? Are you in there? We heard screaming, and Robin said you came up here with some guy." It's Steve, sounding very concerned on the other side of the door. "We just wanna make sure you're okay."

You lift your head, speaking back to him. "Yeah it's me. I'm fine, just finished getting my brains fucked out by Eddie Munson, if you must know." You say cheekily, highly satisfied with yourself.

A roar of cheers erupts in the hallway, it appears the party moved upstairs to investigate what the ruckus you and Eddie made was all about. "Way to go, Y/N! Just please replace the sheets? My parents will kill me if there's a mess left in there."

"Will do, your highness!" You retort, laughing at the spectacle that's been made out of your sexual activities. You turn to look at Eddie as the audience makes their way back to resume the festivities, and he's smiling like a kid on Christmas. "You alive there, Munson?" You ask, matching his blissful expression.

"Well, I'd say it was a pretty close call. That has to be the best sex I've ever had, I thought I'd died and went to heaven or something. And I don't even go to church." He quips, sitting up with you.

"Me either, God's overrated. Now you, on the other hand? I'd worship you every day of the week." You move to sit sideways on his lap, letting him wrap his arms around you.

"Ooh, I like the sound of that. And I'll happily do the same for you." He leans in, giving you a tender kiss. You're both completely spent, happy to just sit like this. He pulls away, looking at you seriously. "So, what do we do now?" He asks, unsure what the next step is. And that's in terms of tonight, or otherwise. He wants to see you again, and again and again. But it all depends on you.

"Well, I was thinking a shower. There's a bathroom attached to this room, thankfully. And then after that...we can rejoin the party if you want, or stay here together and rest." His expression falls a little, thinking you don't want anything from him after tonight. You quickly take notice, reassuring him that's the opposite of what you mean. "And then, when the night is over, I give you my phone number so you can call me and take me on a date."

"Really?" He's smiling again, somehow surprised that you mean it.

"Yes, dingus!" You smack his chest playfully, rolling your eyes at his uncertainty. "I'm practically in love with you! I'm not gonna let you go so easily, especially not with your particular skill set." You chuckle, making him laugh as well.

"Sorry, I don't mean to be so insecure. But I'll happily take you up on that shower, and your phone number. And just so you know, sweetheart, I am never letting you go either."

The end.

#fanfiction #hippiegoth97 #smut #eddie munson #stranger things #hawkins #1980s #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem reader smut #halloween #spooky #eddie munson x reader smut

167 notes · View notes