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jungkoode · 2 months ago

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𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 14

˗ˏˋ laundry day ˎˊ˗

"Doing laundry should be a normal activity—not something that brings out a whole new set of revelations about Jungkook you were not even fathoming. And you don’t know if it’s helping old ladies, tying your shoes or collecting stupid vynils—but you don’t like how it’s throwing off your whole perception of your annoying roommate."

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⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8k

content: laundry rooms, old ladies that have a vendetta against you?, jungkook being a decent human being, batman socks, vynil revelations, humanizing jungkook and not liking it

✧ author's note ✧

Hello again little gremlins! It’s your girl, Kiki—back with another dose of Jungkook being emotionally compromised and having weird feelings about vulnerability.

SO. This chapter is… fairly slow-paced, which, duh—have you read my stuff? I went HAM on the introspection here, but I think it was so needed. Sometimes we need this type of chapter to balance the narrative out. I think it’s worked out beautifully, but do let me know your thoughts at the end.

About the goal thing! In case you’ve been living under a rock (or you don’t check my Tumblr regularly—which, fair), I have decided to switch my update schedule system.

Previously, I had been working with a weekly schedule as you all know. This has been quite easy for me to maintain because I work with hyperfixations, and basically ADHD.

The thing is… it’s a 2 month cycle.

I’m basically on week 7/8 already.

And that brings me to The Point. Goal-based update system. Which just means I’ll continue posting as long as we reach the established goals in every chapter. I’m going to be creating a whole post explaining how it works, but, long story short—as long as we reach either the goal in Tumblr OR Wattpad, we’ll be getting more chapters!

This is basically a self-regulation thing. I am self-aware (luckily) and I know how to work with my ADHD—but for those who don’t know; it’s heavily tied to dopamine. Which just means (I’m not gonna get nerdy I swear), I basically need engagement to trick my brain into staying motivated. Otherwise dopamine hits get slowly weaker and at some point I literally cannot bring myself to write.

WHICH SUCKS. Because I do love my stories, and I love sharing them. But burnout is real and brains work in funny ways and I can’t really fight my ADHD or brain chemistry (trust me I wish I could). So this is how you guys are going to help me tame this bitch. WE RIDE AT DOWN. 🤝

And before anyone asks—no, this is not up for debate. This is not something I’m “considering” or “open to feedback on.” This is me taking care of my mental health and working with my ADHD instead of against it. It’s not an “excuse,” it’s just how my brain operates. If that bothers you… I literally do not know what to tell you.

Anyways, as always, I love you all, I’m reading all your comments and reblogs and asks, and do check the note goal at the very end! 🩷

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

It's fucking weird how some people's clothes have a gravitational pull, like they're magnets and your body is just helplessly metal.

You're wearing his sweater. The same one that's been mocking you from your desk chair for the last twenty-four hours, just sitting there in all its navy blue glory, smelling like rain and testosterone and bad decisions. You don't know why you haven't tossed it back into his room yet. It's been staring you down all morning, a silent accusation of...something.

But now it's almost midday on Sunday, and your pile of dirty clothes has reached critical mass. Your laundry basket is basically a textile Mount Everest. You'd wear something clean, except there isn't anything clean left—not unless you count the questionable tank top you found at the back of your drawer that you're pretty sure you wore to a frat party sophomore year.

So. Jungkook's sweater it is.

You tell yourself it's just practical. Totally logical. It's uncharacteristically chilly outside, the first whisper of almost September creeping in, and you need something to cover your ridiculous pajama shorts for the trek to the basement laundry room. They're flowery and pale pink, paired with an equally ridiculous oversized t-shirt featuring a cartoonish sunflower with the words "HAVE A SUNFLOWER DAY!" emblazoned across your chest in neon yellow.

Not exactly the look you'd choose for running into anyone with functioning eyeballs, but it's Sunday, and your give-a-fuck meter is hovering at absolute zero.

It's not like you're going to run into anyone important anyway. Miguel the super probably won't be down there; he's usually sleeping off his Saturday night till at least 2PM. And the chances of meeting some hot neighbor—your future spouse who'll be so charmed by your sunflower ensemble that they'll propose on the spot—are basically nonexistent.

Actually, scratch that.

Even if some dream person did materialize in the laundry room today, they wouldn't see the sunflower masterpiece because it's hidden under Jungkook's stupidly oversized hoodie. The one that somehow hangs past your shorts, making it look like you're not wearing pants at all, which is a whole different kind of disaster.

Whatever. It's warm. It doesn't smell like him anymore. (It does.) And you're just using it. Borrowing it. Temporarily occupying its fabric space.

You scoop up your overflowing laundry basket and wrestle it onto your hip. The elevator in this building moves with all the urgency of continental drift, so you opt for the stairs. Three flights down isn't horrible, especially since the laundry room is conveniently right next to the stairwell exit.

"Just put it in his room later," you mutter to yourself, adjusting the hoodie.

You could've done that yesterday when he tossed it at you, but you didn't, and you're not thinking about why.

You check your pocket for quarters and detergent pods.

The whole ritual is familiar now—Sunday laundry day, another week of adulting successfully completed without burning the building down or getting evicted. Not that the bar should be that low, but hey, after the month you've had, you'll take the wins where you can get them.

As you start down the stairs, the hoodie falls past your hand, and you absently tug it back up, trying not to think about how the collar brushes against your cheek or how the cuffs hang past your fingertips.

And you definitely aren't thinking about the fact that you're surrounded by the scent of him with every breath you take.

Because that would be weird, right? Being conscious of wearing your roommate's clothes? The roommate you occasionally fuck? The one who took you to buy a vibrator yesterday before subjecting you to lunch with his overly-protective friend?

Right. Not weird at all.

You're just doing laundry, in ridiculous pajamas, wearing his hoodie because it's practical. That's the story, and you're sticking to it—even if the sleeves smell faintly of his soap when you lift your hand to push your hair out of your face.

The stairwell is quiet, just the echo of your worn-out sneakers slapping against the concrete steps. You shift the basket to your other hip, huffing slightly under its weight.

Maybe you should've done laundry sooner. Maybe you shouldn't wait until you're literally out of underwear every single time.

But then again, maybe you should focus on the stairs and not on the fact that your bare thighs occasionally brush against the soft inner lining of his hoodie.

Adulthood is just a series of mundane chores punctuated by questionable decisions. And today, apparently, that includes wearing Jungkook's hoodie to do your laundry.

No big deal. You'll wash your clothes, return his sweater, and the universe will continue spinning on its axis, completely unaffected by your poor wardrobe choices.

The door to the laundry room is propped open with a cinder block—probably Mrs. Patel from 4C forgetting to remove it again. You shift your basket one final time and head in, already mentally claiming the good dryer, the one that doesn't sound like it's harboring a demon when it hits the spin cycle.

It's just laundry day. Just another Sunday.

And the laundry room is still a goddamn joke.

Because let’s be real—whoever thought six washing machines and four dryers could service an entire apartment building was either a sadist or never did laundry in their life.

And on Sundays?

It's like watching vultures circle a carcass—everybody desperate for their turn at the machines, glaring at anyone who takes too long to transfer their clothes.

Dona Ramirez is already there, of course. The seventy-something retiree who treats the laundry room like her personal kingdom and you like an invading barbarian. She's currently guarding the Good Dryer—the one you had mentally claimed seconds ago.

Just. Fucking. Great.

She looks up as you enter, lips pursing like she's just bitten into something sour. Her eyes travel from your face down to your bare legs and back up again, judgment radiating from her in palpable waves.

"Good morning," you mutter, aiming for polite but landing somewhere around constipated.

"Hmph." Dona sniffs, turning back to her women's magazine. "Young people these days. No shame."

You bite back the urge to point out that it's literally just your legs showing, not your entire ass. It wouldn't matter anyway. In Dona's world, anything above the ankle is basically pornographic.

Shifting your heavy basket to your other hip, you make your way to the only empty washing machine—wedged in the back corner, naturally. The one that sometimes stops mid-cycle like it's having an existential crisis. You slam your basket down with more force than necessary.

"Careful with the machines," Dona mutters without looking up from her magazine. "They're not getting any younger."

Neither are you, standing here taking shit from the laundry room gatekeeper.

"Sorry," you say, not sorry at all.

You start sorting your clothes, creating separate piles for darks and lights. Dona continues to flip pages, totally unbothered. Or maybe bothered. You can’t tell and frankly don’t care.

As you're separating your darks, something catches your eye. Orange hair. Lots of it, actually, clinging to your black leggings and that navy shirt you wore when you were studying on the couch last week.

Griffin.

That little furry infiltrator has been shedding all over your clothes again. Despite the fact that your door is always closed. Despite the "no pets" clause in your lease that Jungkook blatantly ignores. Despite your best efforts to maintain some semblance of a cat-hair-free existence.

And yet...

You find yourself smiling slightly as you pluck a particularly long orange strand from your favorite black sweater. The traitorous little shit must have snuck into your room when you were in the shower yesterday. You'd caught him curled up on your bed when you came out, looking entirely too comfortable and completely unapologetic about the invasion.

He'd just blinked at you lazily, that slow "yes, I know I'm not supposed to be here, and no, I don't care" cat-blink that somehow manages to be both insulting and endearing at the same time.

You should be annoyed. You should definitely tell Jungkook to keep his feline menace away from your clean laundry basket. You should not find it even remotely charming that Griffin seems to have decided your clothes are his second-favorite napping spot (right after your pillow, the little asshole).

And yet here you are, pulling orange fur off your black clothes with something dangerously close to fondness.

What the fuck is happening to you?

Maybe it's sleep deprivation.

Or maybe it's the fact that Griffin is actually kind of cool, for a cat.

He doesn't have that typical cat superiority complex—he just genuinely doesn't give a shit about anything except food, sunbeams, and antagonizing Jungkook.

It's a lifestyle you can respect.

Plus, he has this way of curling up next to you when you're reading, just close enough to leech your body heat without actually admitting he wants your attention. It's like living with a tiny, furry version of his owner.

Not that you'd ever admit that particular observation out loud.

You dump your dark clothes into the washing machine, mentally calculating how much detergent to add. Dona shuffles to check her wash cycle, eyeing you suspiciously like you might try to sabotage her laundry when she's not looking.

"Cold day," she comments, which is probably the most conversational she's ever been with you.

"Yeah," you reply, not looking up from measuring detergent. "Came early this year."

She hums disapprovingly, like the weather is also your fault. "Wearing your boyfriend's clothes won't keep you warm forever."

For a split second, your brain halts.

Boyfriend? What boyfriend? And then—

Ah.

The hoodie.

Jungkook's hoodie that you're swimming in.

Something about her smug certainty, that look that says she's got you all figured out, makes you want to burn the whole goddamn building down. Or at least throw a very minor wrench in her worldview.

"It's my girlfriend's, actually," you say, the lie sliding off your tongue with practiced ease.

There. Take that, you judgmental old bat. Let's see how your 1950s sensibilities handle—

"Even worse," Dona sniffs, not missing a beat. "Girls these days, always stealing each other's clothes. You'll never build a proper wardrobe that way."

Wait, what?

You blink, momentarily thrown. That's... not the reaction you were expecting. No pearl-clutching. No horrified gasps. Just... practical fashion advice?

"I—"

"My granddaughter does the same thing," she continues, adjusting the scarf around her neck with arthritic fingers. "Comes home wearing her girlfriend's sweatshirts, twice her size. Looks like she's drowning in fabric. No shape whatsoever. You young people and your oversized clothes." She clicks her tongue. "In my day, we wore things that fit."

Well, shit.

So much for your brilliant plan to scandalize the old lady.

Turns out Dona's not a homophobe—she's just a fashion critic. Equal opportunity judgment for all. How progressive of her.

"Right," you mutter, feeling weirdly chastised. "I'll, uh, keep that in mind."

"Hmph." She turns back to her laundry, seemingly satisfied that she's dispensed enough wisdom for one day.

You're still processing this unexpected twist when the laundry room door creaks open behind you, letting in a draft of cooler air.

You don't need to turn around to know who it is.

Something in the atmosphere shifts immediately—molecules rearranging themselves, air particles getting all excited, the very fabric of space-time bending to accommodate his presence.

Or maybe that's just your pulse doing that annoying thing where it decides to race for no good reason.

"Well, well, well."

His voice is sleep-rough and amused, and you can already picture the exact expression on his face without looking.

That stupid half-smirk. That cocked eyebrow. That look that says he's caught you doing something you shouldn't.

You turn slowly, trying to appear nonchalant despite the fact that you're suddenly, acutely aware that you're wearing his fucking hoodie over your ridiculous pajamas.

Jungkook stands in the doorway, laundry basket propped against his hip, looking unfairly good for someone who's probably just rolled out of bed. His hair is a disaster, sticking up in tufts. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt and those stupid gray sweatpants that look way too good on him, and his feet are bare—the absolute psychopath. Who walks around a gross apartment building with no shoes?

His eyes drop immediately to the hoodie, and his eyebrow arches even higher.

"Interesting fashion choice, Phoenix," he says, lips twitching.

Your face heats. "Laundry day," you say, as if that explains everything.

As if borrowing—okay, stealing—his clothes is a perfectly normal response to having nothing clean to wear.

"Clearly." His gaze sweeps over you, taking in the edge of your floral shorts peeking out beneath the hem of his hoodie. "Sunflower PJs? Again?"

"It's laundry day," you repeat, like maybe he didn't hear you the first time. Like maybe that's a valid excuse for looking like you raided a middle schooler's closet. "Everything else is dirty."

"Hmm."

He steps fully into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him, and moves to the washing machine next to yours.

Puts his basket down.

Stands too close.

“But the hoodie isn't yours."

It's not a question. It's a statement, delivered with that infuriating confidence he always has, like he's so sure of himself, so certain of how this interaction is going to play out.

"I found it in my room," you say, turning back to your washing machine, pretending to be deeply interested in the cycle selection. "Must've gotten mixed up in my stuff."

"For a whole day?" He snorts, and you can hear him starting to sort his laundry beside you. "Interesting that you decided to wear it instead of, I don't know, returning it."

"It was convenient," you mutter, jabbing at the start button. "And it's cold."

"Right."

You can hear the smile in his voice without looking at him, and you don’t know why you notice without even having to gaze at him.

Damn your body and its complete lack of dignity.

"You're late, boy."

Your head whips around at the sharp change in Dona's tone. Not softer—definitely not softer—but different somehow. Like… Less venomous, more... familiar?

The old woman is glaring at Jungkook, but it's not the same glare she gives you. It's like the difference between a loaded gun and a water pistol.

"Sorry, Miss D," Jungkook says, and there's something in his voice—a hint of warmth?—that catches you completely off guard. "Overslept."

"Hmph. Young people." Dona shakes her head, but there's no real bite to it. "My sheets need folding. These old hands aren't what they used to be."

"Sure thing." Jungkook nods like this is a completely normal request, like random old ladies demanding his manual labor is just part of his Sunday routine.

What the actual fuck?

You stare between them, waiting for Jungkook to tell her to fold her own damn sheets, or at the very least look annoyed at being bossed around.

But he just continues sorting his laundry like this is fine.

Like this is normal.

"You know her?" you ask, keeping your voice low as Dona bustles over to check her washing machine.

Jungkook glances at you, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"

"Since when?"

He shrugs, separating a dark shirt from a pile of whites. "Since I moved in? She lives on the fourth floor."

"And you just... help her fold laundry? Voluntarily?"

"Sometimes." He's not looking at you now, focused on his sorting with more attention than dirty clothes really require. "It's not a big deal."

"Is that why she doesn't look at you like you're gum on her shoe?"

He huffs a laugh. "What?"

"She fucking hates me," you whisper, gesturing discreetly at Dona's back. "Every time I see her, she looks at me like I personally invented avocado toast and killed all the mom-and-pop stores."

"Maybe you just need to help her fold her sheets," he suggests, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Or maybe you've charmed her with your stupid dimples and your fake nice-guy routine."

"Fake nice-guy routine?" His eyebrows shoot up, and he looks genuinely amused. "Is that what you think this is?"

"Obviously," you mutter. "Nobody is actually that helpful without an agenda."

He studies you for a moment. Then, speaks. "Yeah? What's my agenda with Dona, then?"

“I don't know yet. But I'm sure it's something nefarious."

"Nefarious," he repeats, and now he's definitely laughing at you. "Sure, Phoenix. I'm playing the long con with a senior citizen. Really working that angle."

"Wouldn't put it past you.”

"Right." He tilts his head to the other side, still smiling slightly. "Well, while I'm busy being fake nice, you might want to turn your machine on. You've been standing there for five minutes and it's still not running."

You glance down at your washing machine, which is indeed just sitting there, silent and unhelpful. Fuck. Your finger must have missed the start button in your rush to look like you knew what you were doing.

You jab the button again, harder this time, and the machine finally lurches to life with a groan that sounds suspiciously like judgment.

"Boy," Dona calls from across the room, "come help with these detergent bottles. They're too heavy."

"Coming," Jungkook calls back, and he's moving before you can say anything else, crossing the room to where Dona is struggling with an industrial-sized bottle of Tide.

You watch, equal parts confused and suspicious, as he takes the bottle from her. They exchange a few words you can't quite hear over the rumble of the washing machines, and then—what the fuck—Dona actually pats his arm. Like he's her grandson or something.

Like she doesn't find him utterly repulsive.

Is this why she likes him? Because he lets her boss him around and carries her detergent?

That's... kind of pathetic, actually.

You thought Jungkook had more of a backbone than that.

But still. It's weird. The cold, calculating part of your brain catalogs this new information, filed under "Jungkook, Things That Don't Add Up About."

It's growing into a pretty substantial folder these days.

You turn back to your washing machine, pretending to be deeply fascinated by the cycle display, but you're still watching them from the corner of your eye. Trying to figure out what his deal is.

"You need groceries this week?" Jungkook asks, voice low but not quite low enough that you can't hear it. "I can swing by after my studio session on Wednesday."

"Do I look like I need charity?" Dona snaps, but it’s not fueled by anger. If anything, she sounds... embarrassed?

"Not charity," Jungkook says, voice even. "Just a neighbor thing."

"Hmph." Dona busies herself with folding a dishcloth. "Well, if you insist on playing delivery boy, I do need milk. And those crackers from last time."

"Got it." Jungkook nods, like this is just normal. Like he's not going completely out of his way for someone who doesn't even seem particularly grateful.

You frown, trying to make it make sense.

Maybe... maybe it's a hustle? Maybe old ladies tip really well? Or maybe he's building up good karma because he's secretly done something terrible and needs to balance the cosmic scales?

The two of them chat for a bit longer, and you can't quite hear all of it, but you catch fragments—something about Dona's doctor's appointment, something about Jungkook's classes, something about a recipe for chicken soup.

It's all so... domestic. So weirdly normal. So completely at odds with the Jungkook you know—the one who teases you mercilessly, the one who fucks you against walls, the one with the sharp edges and the arrogant smirk.

You're so busy trying to reconcile these two versions of him that you almost miss it when Dona's voice rises slightly.

"...since Hector passed, and these new delivery apps, they charge so much..." Her voice wavers, just slightly. "...shouldn't have to pay an arm and a leg just to get groceries when you can't..."

Jungkook says something too low for you to catch, and Dona makes that "hmph" sound again. But this time it sounds different. Almost... vulnerable?

"Well," she says, louder now, "you're the only one who bothers to check. The others in this building, they see an old woman and they look right through her. Like I'm already a ghost."

Oh.

Oh shit.

Something uncomfortable twists in your chest. An emotion you don't want to examine too closely. Something that feels a lot like…

Shame.

Because that's exactly what you did, isn't it? You saw a grumpy old lady and decided she was the enemy. You never once considered that maybe she was just lonely.

That maybe she uses sharpness as a shield.

The same way you use sarcasm as one.

"Not a ghost yet," Jungkook says, and his voice is gentler than you've ever heard it. "Still kicking my ass at dominoes every Thursday."

"Language," Dona scolds, but you can hear the smile in her voice. "And don't you forget it. I expect a rematch this week."

"Wouldn't miss it."

Wait. He plays dominoes with her? Weekly? What the actual fuck?

And now you feel even worse, because apparently Jungkook—the guy you've been dismissing as an arrogant player with no depth—has been spending his Thursday nights playing board games with a lonely old woman.

While you've been doing what? Watching Netflix and judging everyone's life choices?

Great. Now he's making you feel like an asshole without even trying. That's just perfect.

You turn back to your washing machine, genuinely focused on it this time, trying to process this new information. Trying to fit it into your understanding of who Jungkook is.

It's not working very well.

When you hear footsteps approaching, you pretend to be busy. You don’t know why you can’t look at him in the eyes right now.

"Sheets are folded," Jungkook says, sliding up next to you. "World is saved."

"What a hero," you deadpan, still not looking at him.

"Someday you'll appreciate my many talents," he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Speaking of which, nice hoodie."

You finally glance at him, and yep—there's that stupid, self-satisfied grin. Like he's caught you doing something embarrassing. Which, to be fair, he has.

"It's practical," you say, tugging the hem down where it's riding up. "That's all."

"Sure," he agrees easily. "Very practical to keep my clothes. Much more practical than, say, returning them."

"You want it back?" You make a show of starting to pull it off. "Fine, take—"

"Keep it," he says quickly, and the way he says it—not teasing, not mocking, just simple and straightforward—catches you off guard. "It looks better on you anyway."

You freeze, hands still at the hem of the hoodie, not quite sure how to respond to that. It feels like a trap somehow, like if you accept, you're admitting to something. To what, you're not exactly sure.

"Whatever," you mutter, dropping your hands. "I'll wash it and give it back."

"No rush." He turns back to his own laundry, a small smile playing at his lips.

For a moment, you just stand there, watching him sort his clothes. Then you look away, annoyed with yourself for gawking.

"So," you say, as casual as you can muster, "you're like, what? The old lady whisperer?"

He glances at you, eyebrow raised. "What?"

"You and Dona." You gesture vaguely in her direction. "The whole..." You wave your hand, trying to encompass whatever the hell it is you just witnessed. "...thing."

"The thing," he repeats, clearly amused. "Very specific."

"You know what I mean," you huff. "The helping her fold sheets thing. The grocery delivery thing. The dominoes thing."

His movements pause for just a fraction of a second, so brief you almost miss it. "You were eavesdropping?"

"It's a small laundry room," you point out. "And you weren't exactly whispering."

"It's not a big deal."

"Playing dominoes with an old lady every Thursday isn't a big deal?"

"It's just dominoes," he says, like that explains everything.

Like it's completely normal to spend your free time entertaining your elderly neighbor when you could be, I don't know, literally anything else that twenty-something guys usually do on a Thursday night.

"And the groceries?"

"She has trouble carrying them up the stairs," he says with a shrug. "The delivery apps charge too much. It's not a big deal."

"You keep saying that," you note, studying his profile as he focuses very intently on separating a blue shirt from a white one. "But it kind of is. I mean, how many people in this building even know their neighbors' names?"

"Maybe they should. Maybe it wouldn't kill people to look up from their phones once in a while and notice the actual humans around them."

You blink, taken aback by the sudden intensity. "Okay, damn. Sorry I asked."

"No, I'm—" He exhales sharply. "I just don't like talking about it, okay? It's not a thing."

"Why?" you press, genuinely curious now. "Why is it such a big secret that you're apparently a decent human being?"

“It's not a secret. I just don't..." He shakes his head. "I don't do it for attention or whatever. It's just the right thing to do."

"So you don't want me to know you do the right thing?"

"I don't need a fucking gold star for basic human decency," he snaps, and now there's definitely an edge to his voice. "I'm not looking for a pat on the back. I'm not trying to—" He breaks off, stuffing clothes into the machine with more force than necessary. "Just drop it, alright?"

You raise your eyebrows, watching as he jams quarters into the slot with unnecessary aggression. It's almost like he's... embarrassed? No, that's not quite right. More like he's uncomfortable with you knowing this side of him.

Like he doesn't want you to think he's actually nice.

Which is weird, because most guys would be falling all over themselves to prove they're nice guys. To get those good-person points. To make sure everyone knows what a saint they are for helping the little old lady with her groceries.

But Jungkook seems genuinely annoyed that you found out. Almost defensive about it.

It's... interesting.

Weird.

"Fine," you say, lifting your hands in surrender. "Consider it dropped. Your secret identity as a decent human being is safe with me."

He exhales sharply through his nose, still not looking at you. "Thanks."

You both lapse into silence, the hum of the washing machines like tiny droplets of silence between both of you.

Across the room, Dona is bustling around the dryers, muttering to herself about settings and temperatures. You sneaks glances at her, seeing her in a different light now.

Not just a grumpy old woman.

A widow.

Someone who lives alone and has to rely on the kindness of neighbors—specifically, one neighbor—for simple tasks like carrying groceries.

Someone who's lonely enough that a weekly dominoes game is something to look forward to.

It makes your chest feel tight in a way you don't particularly like.

"Boy," Dona calls, breaking the silence. "What cycle for delicates?"

"Gentle, cold water," Jungkook calls back without hesitation, like he's some kind of laundry expert. Like this is a normal conversation they have all the time.

"Hmph," is Dona's only response, but you notice she follows his advice, adjusting the settings on the dryer.

"She likes you," you observe quietly.

Jungkook glances at you, then back at his machine.

"She tolerates me," he corrects. "There's a difference."

"She doesn't even tolerate me."

"You've never offered to help with her sheets."

"I didn't know that was an option," you say, crossing your arms. "There's no sign-up sheet for 'Old Lady Sheet Folding' in the lobby."

He snorts, and just like that, the tension from earlier seems to dissipate.

“Maybe there should be. Building-wide rotation."

"I can see it now," you say, following in on the joke. "'4B gets Monday sheets, 6A takes Tuesday sheets...'"

"'If you find yourself assigned to Wednesday sheets, please be aware that those are the cat-hair sheets,'" he continues, adopting a serious tone. "'Lint rollers will be provided.'"

You can't help it—you laugh.

It's brief, just a small burst of amusement, but it's genuine.

And when you glance at Jungkook, he's looking at you with a strange expression, like he's seeing something he didn't expect.

"What?" you ask, immediately self-conscious.

"Nothing," he says, turning back to his machine. But there's a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Just wondering if I should sign you up for Thursday sheets."

"Don't you dare," you warn, but it’s too soft. "I have enough on my plate without adding geriatric sheet duty."

"Could be worse," he says with a shrug. "Could be Tuesday sheets."

"What's Tuesday?"

"Bingo night." He wiggles his eyebrows. "Dona goes hard on the snacks."

You stare at him, once again thrown by this glimpse into a life you didn't know existed. "You're kidding."

"Only partly," he admits with a grin. "But seriously, Tuesday is when she does her big laundry loads. Always complains about the folding."

"And you know this because...?"

"Because I pay attention," he says simply, like it's obvious. Like everyone should just naturally notice these things about their neighbors. "It's not that complicated, Phoenix."

There's no judgment in his voice, but you still feel oddly defensive. Like you've been caught failing some basic test of humanity.

"Well, we can't all be saints," you mutter.

"Not trying to be a saint," he says, a hint of irritation creeping back it. "It's just—" He exhales sharply. "Never mind."

You watch him from the corner of your eye, trying to figure out what button you just pushed. Why this, of all things, seems to get under his skin.

"Sorry," you say finally, surprising even yourself. "I didn't mean to make it weird."

“It's fine."

"It's cool that you help her," you add, feeling awkward but pressing on anyway. "Seriously. Not everyone would."

"Yeah, well." He shrugs, clearly uncomfortable with the praise. "Like I said, it's not a big deal."

"Right." You nod, getting it now.

He really doesn't want the recognition.

Doesn't want the attention for doing something decent.

You both fall silent again, with Dona’s muttering as your only company. It's not uncomfortable, though. It's just... quiet. Companionable, almost.

Which is weird, because you don't do companionable silences with Jungkook. You do heated arguments and sarcastic exchanges and intense fucking.

Not... this. Whatever this is.

"You ever play dominoes?" he asks suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blink at the unexpected question.

“Not since I was a kid."

He nods, considering this.

"Dona's always complaining that two players is boring. Says it's meant to be played with more people."

You wait for him to continue, to make the obvious invitation, but he doesn't. Just stands there, pretending to be deeply interested in the cycle display on his washing machine.

"Are you..." You squint at him. "Are you trying to ask me to play dominoes with you and Dona?"

"What? No." He scoffs, finger pressing random buttons. "Just making conversation."

"Right."

"I'm just saying," he continues, eyes fixed on the machine, "that if you ever… I dunno, find yourself bored on a Thursday night… There’s always dominoes."

Is he… Is he actually inviting you to his weird geriatric game night?

And if so, why?

It's not like you've shown any interest in spending time with the elderly. Or with him, outside of the very specific context of fucking each other senseless.

"I'll keep that in mind," you say finally, not committing to anything.

"Cool."

Another silence falls.

You don’t say anything.

He doesn’t say anything.

And you’re still wearing his hoodie. And he’s still standing too close.

And for a moment—just a brief, fleeting moment—you wonder what it would be like. To sit around a table with Jungkook and Dona, playing dominoes on a Thursday night. To see that side of him—the side that helps old ladies with groceries and remembers how they like their sheets folded.

It's a weird thought. An unfamiliar one. And you push it away almost as soon as it forms.

Because that's not what this is.

That's not what you are.

You're roommates who sometimes fuck. You're not friends who play board games together.

"Boy," Dona calls from across the room, breaking into your thoughts. "What cycle for cotton?"

"High heat, Miss D," Jungkook calls back, and just like that, the moment—whatever it was—is broken.

He turns back to his sorting, and you turn back to yours, and everything goes back to normal. Or whatever passes for normal these days.

But you're still wearing his hoodie. And you're pretty sure you're not giving it back anytime soon.

Sometime later, you're leaning against the wall just outside the laundry room, scrolling mindlessly through your phone.

Your thumb drags across the screen without purpose, not really taking in whatever the hell you're looking at—Instagram? Twitter? Does it matter? The washing machines finished twenty minutes ago, but Jungkook insisted on carrying both your loads like some kind of laundry martyr.

"I got it," he'd said, waving you off when you tried to grab your basket. "Go ahead."

So here you are, waiting, because it feels weird to just leave him down here with your underwear. Even though he's definitely seen your underwear before. In significantly more compromising contexts.

From inside the laundry room, you can hear the murmur of voices—Jungkook and Dona in what sounds like a heated debate about fabric softener. You catch fragments: "ruins the absorbency" and "smells nice" and "didn't raise my Hector to use that chemical garbage."

You roll your eyes. How is this your Sunday? Standing in a dingy hallway while your fuck buddy debates laundry techniques with a geriatric neighbor?

The door finally swings open, and Jungkook emerges, arms loaded with both laundry baskets stacked precariously on top of each other. His biceps flex as he adjusts the weight, and you're definitely not noticing that.

"Ready?" he asks, nudging the door closed with his foot.

"Been ready," you murmur, pocketing your phone. "Some of us don't need an hour-long consultation about dryer settings."

"She has strong opinions about lint," he says, absolutely straight-faced, like this is a normal follow-up to any conversation.

"Fascinating." You push off from the wall, heading for the stairs. "Let's go before she recruits you for a lint task force or whatever."

He just grins, following behind you.

The stairwell is narrow and poorly lit, with concrete steps that have seen better decades.

You're a few steps ahead when you hear it—a dull thud followed by a muttered "fuck."

You spin around to see Jungkook stumbling backward, nearly dropping both baskets as his free hand flies to his forehead. There's an exposed pipe running along the low ceiling that you always duck under without thinking—you're not particularly tall—but apparently nobody warned Jungkook about it.

"Shit." The word leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and suddenly you're moving toward him, hands reaching out automatically. "You okay?"

He looks momentarily stunned, both by the impact and by your reaction.

"Yeah, just—"

You're already on your tiptoes, fingers brushing his hair away from his forehead to check the damage. There's a red mark forming, but the skin isn't broken. His hair is softer than you expected, still slightly damp from his morning shower, and he smells like—

Wait.

What the fuck are you doing?

You freeze, suddenly aware of how close you are, of your fingers in his hair, of his eyes fixed on yours with an expression you can't quite read.

Neither of you moves.

His eyes dart between both of your pupils.

"Um," you say intelligently, dropping your hands like his forehead is suddenly made of lava. "Be more careful. We don't need you more idiot than you already are."

Smooth. Really smooth.

His lips twitch, but he doesn't call you out on whatever the hell that sentence was supposed to be. "Thanks for the concern."

"I'm not concerned," you say automatically, already turning back toward the stairs. "Just don't want to deal with your concussed ass if you knock yourself out."

"Right." His voice follows you up the stairs. "God forbid you have to care about something."

"Exactly," you agree, not looking back. "Caring is for suckers."

You're halfway up the flight when you hear him grunt as he shifts the laundry baskets. It's a lot to carry, and the stairwell is narrow, but you're definitely not offering to help. That would imply you care, which you just explicitly denied. So.

There's a moment of shuffling footsteps behind you, then: "Wait a sec, Nix."

You turn, ready with some smart-ass comment about his head injury affecting his ability to climb stairs, but the words die in your throat. He's set both baskets down on the landing and is now kneeling on the step below you, looking at your feet.

"What are you—"

"Your shoes," he says, nodding at your sneakers. "They're untied."

You glance down. Sure enough, both laces on your ancient Converse are dragging on the concrete steps, a tripping hazard waiting to happen.

"I know," you lie. You didn't know. "I was gonna fix them later."

"Later, like after you face-plant on the stairs?" He's already reaching for your shoe, his big hands deftly gathering the laces. "With my luck, I'd have to call an ambulance, and they'd blame me for pushing you."

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction of falling," you mutter, but you don't pull away.

Instead, you just stand there, weirdly frozen, as Jungkook—the guy who regularly makes you come so hard you see stars—ties your shoelaces like you're a fucking kindergartner.

His head is bent in concentration, dark hair falling over his forehead, partially hiding the red mark from the pipe. His hands move with practiced ease, looping and pulling.

It's such a small thing. So mundane. So ordinary.

So why does your chest feel tight?

"There," he says, finishing the second shoe with a final tug. "Crisis averted."

He glances up at you, still kneeling, and something in his expression makes your stomach do a weird little flip. It's probably just the angle. The way the shitty stairwell lighting catches on his features. The lingering effects of morning caffeine making your pulse do stupid things.

"I could have done that myself," you say, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

"I know." He shrugs, pushing himself to his feet and picking up the laundry baskets again. "But you didn't."

You don't have a good response to that, so you just turn and continue up the stairs, acutely aware of him following behind you. The only sound is your newly tied shoes against the concrete and his slightly labored breathing as he carries the laundry.

It's weird.

This whole morning has been weird.

First the hoodie, then Dona and the dominoes revelation, now this—Jungkook tying your shoes like it's nothing.

Like these small, casually intimate gestures are just things people do for each other.

Maybe they are. Maybe this is all completely normal roommate behavior, and you're the weird one for overthinking it.

It's not like he meant anything by it.

He's just like that, apparently—the kind of guy who helps old ladies with groceries and plays dominoes on Thursdays and doesn't let people trip on their shoelaces.

It's not personal. It's not about you.

He's just nice sometimes. In between being an absolute asshole who drives you crazy.

It doesn't mean anything.

It doesn't mean anything at all.

You finally make it to the apartment door, fishing your keys out of the pocket of Jungkook's stupid hoodie and hold the door open for him because he's still stubbornly carrying both laundry loads, despite your begrudging offer to take yours back.

"I can carry my own shit," you'd said on the landing between the second and third floors, trying to grab your basket.

He'd just smirked and swung it out of your reach. "I got it."

"I'm not helpless."

"Never said you were."

"So give me my laundry, asshole."

"Nope."

And that was that. Because apparently this is the hill he wants to die on. Stupid, stubborn, impossible man.

Now he strides past you into the apartment, annoyingly unbothered by the weight of two full baskets.

You absolutely do not track how lean his arm muscles are as he sets them both on the table near the main door.

You definitely don't track the line of his shoulders as he rolls them back, working out the tension from the climb.

And you certainly don't follow a bead of sweat as it trails down the side of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

Because that would be pathetic. And you're not pathetic.

He starts rummaging through his basket, brows furrowed in concentration. Then he looks up, confusion clear on his face.

“Wait, I'm missing a sock."

"Huh?"

"A sock." He holds up a single black sock with little Batman logos on it. "I should have two."

You stare at him blankly. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Did you see a sock drop or something? On the stairs, maybe?"

"Why would I be looking for your socks?" You cross your arms. "I have better things to do with my life than track your Batmans."

"Fuck it," he sighs. "I'm going downstairs again."

"Seriously? For a sock?"

"It's my favorite pair." He's already heading for the door. "Be right back."

And then he's gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click, leaving you standing there next to two baskets of laundry and feeling weirdly... abandoned?

Which is ridiculous. It's a sock. He'll be back in five minutes.

Get a grip, bitch.

You stare at the laundry baskets on the table. His and yours, side by side.

Why did he insist on carrying yours? It's so stupidly... nice. And Jungkook isn't nice. He's arrogant and annoying and makes you want to pull your hair out. He's not supposed to tie your shoes or carry your laundry or play dominoes with old ladies.

It's throwing off your entire understanding of him, and that's irritating as hell.

You hate him. You definitely hate him.

Except that's getting harder to believe by the day.

The sound of a door opening breaks into your thoughts, but it's not the main door—it's Yoongi's room. Huh. Like seeing a bear outside hibernation season.

He shuffles into the kitchen, looking about as close to death as you've ever seen him. His hair is a disaster, sticking up in weird tufts like he’s barely managed to lay down on a horizontal surface. The bags under his eyes have bags. His t-shirt is wrinkled in that "I've been wearing this for days" way, and he's moving with the careful deliberation of someone who hasn't slept in approximately three centuries.

"Working?" you ask, because it seems like the only explanation for this zombie-like state.

"Unfortunately." His voice is rough, like he hasn't used it in hours. Maybe days.

He doesn't elaborate, just heads straight for the coffee maker.

You don't ask. Not your business.

Besides, you've got your own shit to worry about—like why you can't stop thinking about Jungkook carrying your laundry, or tying your shoes, or the way his hands moved when he was folding Dona's sheets.

God, you need a lobotomy.

Your gaze drifts around the apartment, trying to focus on literally anything else. It lands on the record collection displayed on the wall next to the TV. There must be at least thirty vinyl albums. You remember when Yeji was over last week, she mentioned them—commented on how eclectic the selection was.

You'd just shrugged and said they were Yoongi's. Because they had to be, right? Music producer, always holed up with headphones... it makes sense.

"Nice collection," you say, nodding toward the wall.

You're not sure why you say it. Maybe to make conversation. Maybe to confirm your assumption. Maybe because some part of you suspects they're not Yoongi's at all, and you want to know what else you might have missed about Jungkook.

Not that you care about his likes or interests or anything. That would be dangerously close to caring about him as a person, which—ha! Absolutely not.

"Huh?"

Yoongi turns around lazily, coffeepot in hand. He follows your gaze to the wall of records, and then—he scoffs. Actually scoffs, shaking his head like you've just said something so stupid he can't believe it came out of your mouth.

"Have you even checked them?" he asks, tone dry as the Sahara. "They're mostly Mayer."

You blink.

Mayer? As in John Mayer? As in the songs Jungkook plays on his guitar sometimes?

As in "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room"—the song he played that night in his room when he taunted you through text messages and you were stupid enough to actually walk in?

"They're Jungkook's," Yoongi adds after a beat of silence. "Not mine."

"Oh." The word falls from your lips automatically, small and insignificant, completely inadequate to express the weird reorganization happening in your brain. "But he doesn't have a record player?"

Yoongi just shrugs, pouring coffee into his mug. "Doesn't mean he can't collect them."

You stare at the vinyl collection with new eyes. Each album carefully chosen, meticulously arranged. A physical manifestation of something Jungkook cares about, something he values enough to collect even though he can't listen to them. Yet.

Something unwinds in your chest. A tight, small knot of... what?

Surprise?

Interest?

Whatever it is, you don't like it. Don't want to examine it too closely. Because it feels dangerously like the beginning of seeing Jungkook as a whole person, not just the asshole who happens to be good in bed.

And that's not what this is. That's not what you are.

The door swings open, and there he is—stupid grin on his stupid face, waving a Batman sock in the air like he's just found buried treasure.

"Found it," he announces, triumphant. "It was stuck in the dryer door."

You give him the blankest stare you can muster. "Congratulations. Your sock journey is complete."

His grin just widens, completely unfazed by your sarcasm. "Thanks for the moral support, Phoenix. Couldn't have done it without you."

"I literally did nothing."

"Your energy kept me going."

You roll your eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't get stuck in the back of your head. He just laughs, that warm, rich sound that does absolutely nothing to your insides, and starts gathering his laundry.

"Later," you mutter, turning away before he can see the corner of your mouth threatening to twitch upward.

You grab your laundry basket head straight for your room, shutting the door with perhaps more force than necessary.

Safe in your own space, you fish your phone from your pocket—and see three missed calls from the same number.

Ah. Barnes & Noble.

Seems like you got the job. Which is good. Great, even.

This is what responsible adults do—get jobs, pay bills, build sensible futures. Not collect vinyl records they can't play or help old ladies with their grocery shopping or carry their roommates' laundry just because.

Normal, practical, boring adult stuff. That's what you're about.

Except now you can't stop thinking about those records on the wall. About what else you might have missed. About who Jungkook actually is when he isn't being an infuriating, cocky asshole. About—

About nothing. Because you don’t care.

He’s Jungkook. Rogue. The infuriating roommate of yours that leaves towels everywhere and can’t be bothered to clean his own mugs.

You toss your phone onto your bed and start aggressively pulling laundry from your basket.

You've got shit to do. Clothes to put away. A job to call back about. A life to live that absolutely does not revolve around wondering why your roommate collects vinyl records or helps old ladies or ties your shoes when they're untied.

It doesn't matter. None of it matters.

(Except that it might. Just a little. And that's the most terrifying thought of all.)

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@cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @jimineepaboya @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @jkrailme @rpwprpwprpwprw @mar-lo-pap @jeontae

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danikamariewrites · 1 month ago

Text

Discipline

Cazriel x reader

Note: today is the last day 😭 I’ve loved participating and thank you to @polysjmweek for putting this week together! It takes a lot of work to plan, reblog, and post so again thank you, thank you, thank you for all your hard work 🫶🏻

Day 7 of is Why Choose! You already had your why choose moment with these two. Now you’re exploring the dynamic between the 3 of you and just how far you can push your new mates.

Warning: dom/sub dynamic, spanking, teasing, brat!reader, mean dom!Cass and Az (I think), nudity

It was so tempting. They knew it too. Knew this was a test of your patience and listening skills, which haven’t been great lately.

Cassian and Azriel have given you too many warnings to count. And you can admit that you have been a brat lately. The real question is if they’ll follow through on a punishment.

Cass and Az have been a little too soft with you. You love how caring and loving they are. It’s just, sometimes, they could be a little…more.

And today is the perfect day to push their buttons. Nothing serious is happening at Windhaven. They were just training with the younger groups of soldiers. And there was no one dangerous around—unless you count Devlon.

Wandering around the village, people wave to you, happy to see you out and about. You smile and wave back. Enjoying the sun's warmth on your face as you make your way to the training grounds.

The reason Cassian and Azriel wanted you home is because they know these young soldiers. Not yet put in line, still thinking the world will bend to their wants. Those are males they didn’t want you around. Acting before you think as one of Cassian’s soldiers has consequences.

You wouldn’t get close. Just close enough to drool over your hunky mates. Besides, they wanted you to get up and move instead of just staying curled up reading. Cassian has made sure his concerns about your posture were heard loud and clear. If he heard your spine crack as it unfurls one more time he might start screaming.

You peek around one of the tall boulders that circle the training ring. Pressing your body to the cool rock you try to stay hidden in the shadows.

Cassian walks between the rows of soldiers as they go through warm up exercises. Eyeing their form, watching for any slip up. Azriel stretches a little ways away from the group. His shadows light today. Slowly drifting up from his shoulders, reaching up to his hair then falling to rest between his wings.

A grunt pulls you away from appreciating Azriel. A soldier was face down in the dirt. Cassian drags him up by the scruff of his neck. The male beside him tried and failed to hide his laughter.

“What’s so funny, soldier?” His booming voice echoing around the grounds. The young male immediately pales, snapping his mouth shut. “Nothing, General.” Cassian shakes his head, sending them to run laps. “Did I tell the rest of you to stop?”

A chorus of No sir’s sound from the soldiers as they get back to their warm ups.

Your eyes stay on Cassian. A smirk growing at his strictness. Letting out a dreamy sigh the familiar feeling of a cool little whisp tickling you behind your ear. Your gaze meets Azriel’s. He gives you a stern look, seeing you clearly in the shadows. You smirk at him teasingly.

“Cass,” he calls out, pointing his chin in your direction. Cassian spots you in an instant. His brows furrowed and lips pulled into a stern frown. You wink at him, turning and sauntering off back to the cabin.

—

Waiting for your mates to return was agonizing but would be worth it. You riled Cassian up and knowing him he’d talk Azriel’s ear off about your disobedience, bringing Az to his side of things.

You flip a page of your book as the front door flies open and shut. Two pairs of boots making their way into the living room. Their annoyance clear in heavy footsteps.

You don’t bother looking at them when they stop in front of you. Cassian lets out a huff. “This is what I’m talking about. Her attitude lately has been crazy.�� Azriel hums in agreement.

You can’t help the growing smirk on your face. You pushed just the right amount.

Cassian grips your chin forcing you to look up at them. “Tell me sweetheart, not only did you disobey my orders but you also sat here all day?” You pull at his wrist but Cass just tightens his grip. “I’m not one of your soldiers Cass. You can’t boss me around,” you snark.

At that he snaps. His pupils blown wide, taking over the soft hazel of his eyes. You look at Azriel but he just slowly shakes his head.

“Up. Don’t make me tell you twice.” You immediately stand and Cassian pulls you over to the couch, bending you over his lap. “I don’t want to hear her smart mouth.” Azriel takes that as a command to stick two of his scarred fingers in your mouth. Pressing down hard on your tongue.

Cassian pulls your leggings and panties off, throwing them to the side with no care. He squeezes your ass, rubbing his rough hand across your smooth skin. Cassian pulls his hand back, landing a hard smack on your ass. You jolt, letting out a muffled moan against Azriel’s fingers.

Cassian spanks you three more times before his fingers tease your entrance. “Gods sweetheart, you’re soaked. I knew pissing Az and I off turned you on.” You whine and swallow around Az. He pulses his fingers against your tongue, reminding you he stays until Cass says so. “This is what you wanted huh? Us to punish you?” He mocks, making you wetter.

You squirm against his thick fingers. Desperate for any friction from him. Just a little touch to give you what you need. Azriel notices, sending his shadows to cit or your thighs and ankles. “No moving baby.” You give him a feral smile. Stilling just as he said.

Cassian spanks you again. “So you’ll listen to Azriel but not me.” You hum, a slight hint of condescension. Cassian lets out a humorless laugh. “Keep it up. You’ll be begging to come until next week if you don’t drop the attitude.”

Gods you loved this. Loved their strict sides. Desperate for more.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #cassian acotar #cassian fic #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cazriel x reader #cazriel #Cazriel x you #poly!cazriel x you #poly!cazriel x reader #poly!cazriel

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qrrieterisunnq · 1 year ago

Text

It's nothing - Nico Hischier

nico!hischier x fem!reader Summary: Nico gets injured during the game, which leads to y/n checking him out in the medical room. Nico downplays his injury to make a good impression on Y/n. requested: yes/no A/N: I hope you'll like it, it's unedited so I might change something when I have time to edit the rest of the fics! So just enjoy this fic and happy rest of the day! likes are good, reblogs are better <3 gif, not mine word count: 1,38K warning(s): injured Nico, y/n is an intern, cocky Nico, fluff

masterlist | wip's

The puck is on Nico’s stick as he skates towards the net of the team they’re playing against. They are up for two goals, but they are just in the second period. Nico looks around, looking for his teammates so he can pass them the puck.

On his left is Jack but there are two islanders next to him, so he wouldn’t be able to get the puck. There are other two Luke and Ondřej, but they aren’t in the best position, so the last one is Jasper who is in center with the best chance to shoot a goal.

“Bratter!” he shouts, his thick Swiss accent making Jasper whisp his head in Nico’s direction. With a swift swing of his stick, Nico sends the puck over to him all eyes on Jesper as he shoots on the net getting the puck in the top left corner. The cheers and the bell sound through the arena, and the boys on the ice skate over to Jesper embracing him in a hug and patting his head. “Atta boy!” Nico laughs, patting his helmet.

“God shot, J!” Jack skates over to them, joining the hug. The lineup slowly makes their way to the bench bumping the extended gloves of their teammates.

After their celebration, Nico skates on the faceoffs, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down to win the face-off. As soon as the puck touches the ice, Nico swings his stick the puck sliding behind him on Jack’s stick. He swings his stick, hitting the puck hard as it flies in the net, right between the goalie's legs, but this time, he’s prepared for it and deflects the puck away. Nico skates toward it, but the defenseman on the other team pushes him in the boards. Nico’s shoulder slammed into the boards, and he fell down, staying there as he winced in pain.

The referee immediately whistles announcing penalties, as the boys skate over to Nico. Timo immediately shoves the other player away earning a shove in return.

But Timo's anger and loyalty to Nico won't let him and he shoves him again, the defenceman doesn't like that and gives Timo a hard hit in the face.

The free referee skates over to them trying to get them away from each other. Jack skates towards them hugging Timo around his waist and pulling him away. “YOU SON OF BITCH!” Timo shouts over Jack’s shoulder as he’s dragged away to the bench.

“You okay, Nico?” Ondřej asks Nico as he kneels down beside him.

“My shoulder hurts like a bitch.” Nico whimper, his left hand clutching his right one

“Okay, give me your hand, we’ll get you down to the medical room.” He sighs gripping Nico’s left hand and helping him up on the skates as he skates with him to the bench.

“You okay Nico?” Coach Green asks with concern in his eyes.

“No my shoulder hurts like a bitch!” he curse as he clutches Ondřej’s arm for support.

“I’ll lead him down to the medical room, I’m sure y/n is ready for him.” Coach just nods his head making room for them to leave down the tunnel.

“Y/n! Are you here!” you can hear a voice with a thick accent calling for you. Immediately you run to the door opening and welcome the two players inside the room.

“Yeah! Come in, come in!” you urge them inside pointing towards the table. “Sit on the table Nico and Pally I need you to help him take off the jersey and pads.” You say as you walk over to your table taking the gloves from the box.

“Sure.” He nods his head solely helping Nico to get his jersey from his injured shoulder. “Thanks, O.” Nico breathes out as soon as the jersey is off of him leaving him sitting here in only his pads. “I get the pads you can go back. I need you to win the game!”

“You sure Cap?”

“Yeah positive, go and kick their asses.” Nico goes to move his right arm to extend his fist but winces in pain.

“Hey, Nico, be careful!” you scold him as you walk over to him starting to get his pads off.

“Sorry,” he pouts, a small laugh leaving Ondřej’s lips. “But it’s nothing.”

“Okay, can you please slowly raise your hand up? As soon as it starts hurting you stop okay?” you say when he’s sitting half-naked in front of you.

Nico just nods his head raising his right arm. You watch his face wince in pain but he continues raising it until it is in a vertical position. “It’s nothing, see?” he points to the right arm.

“I’m the one to say if it’s nothing. The boarding looked really nasty so let me do my job here okay?” you smile at him your hands gripping his right arm and getting it down in a normal position. You place your hands on his shoulder, squeezing the right places to find out what is with his shoulder.

“So, how are you enjoying the internship so far?” he asks as you do your job with his shoulder.

“Oh, it's amazing! Really the medical staff here is so welcoming and really helpful when I need something or I don’t know what something is. And of course, you guys are amazing too, you know, free hockey games.” You chuckle a throaty laugh escaping from his lips.

“Oh, are we?” he says cocky smile lingering on his lips. “Yeah, I mean you’re playing amazing,” you look at him when a quiet groan leaves his mouth. He just shakes his head like it's nothing, that it’s not hurting. “Especially you.” You whisper to yourself hoping he won’t hear it. It’s no secret you have a crush on the captain. Lots of the guys noticed how you check him off and the medical staff too.

“Especially me, eh?” he asks his hands landing on your hips as he pulls you between his legs.

“Yeah, and now let me do my job. Your shoulder is dislocated so I need to get it back in its place,” You say shaking his hands off your hips. “So on three, okay?” you prepare him for a pain. Your left hand is resting on his shoulder and your right is holding his biceps so you can pull at it.

“Yeah, you don’t have to count, it won’t hurt, I’m a tough guy.” Smirk finding its way on his lips shrugging you grasp his shoulder harder at the same time as you pull on his biceps getting the shoulder in the right place.

“Oh FUCK!!” he hisses his teeth sinking in his lower lips.

“Tough guy, huh?” you smirk at him patting his tight as you walk over to the table for bandage.

“Very funny y/n, really.” He says taking in deep breath, and just watching y/n do her job. He had this intense crush on her since she started her internship here only a few weeks ago.

“What, I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt!” you giggle as you carefully bandage his shoulder. “Okay, tough guy! You can go on the ice, but be careful with it. One bag hit in the shoulder and you might end up here again.” You smile at him when you’re done and fuck…your smile is so fucking cute and he just wants that full plump lips on his.

“Oh, don’t worry, I wouldn’t mind ending up in here again.” Nico puts his pads back on his shoulders and arms, covering his toned muscular chest. You pout at it, shaking your head at yourself.

“Yeah, good one. Now go on that ice and kick some asses. And for a record, don’t try to downplay your injury just to make a good impression on someone, tough guy.” You motion your hand towards the ice and turn away to take off your gloves and write something on the computer.

“Okay, thanks for the advice miss intern.” He salutes and walks from the medical room, only to come back. “And by the way, tomorrow, you and me, dinner! I’ll pick you up at eight.” He sends you a wink, causing your cheeks to turn red. Before you can say anything, he’s running down the tunnel to the ice. You just shake your head at him, sitting down on your chair, your cheeks still bright red and your thoughts already on tomorrow and the dinner.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier #nh13 #nj devils #nhl #nico hischier fic #nhl fic #nico hischier imagine #nhl fanfiction #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils

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milessunflowers · 2 months ago

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Congrats on 100 followers 🎆🎆🎆!!!

If you don't mind, I'd like a bear hybrid!Oliver Bearman x wolf hybrid!Kimi Antonelli x jaguar hybrid!male!reader who's the grandson of Ayrton Senna and is spectacularly hotheaded and temperamental (and would probably get fined numerous times with the new FIA rules) so that most expect that he also drives aggressively like his grandfather but he's actually extremely precise and clean like Prost.

Sorry if it's too long.

Thank you!

TYSM 🫶🏻 ALSO I AM LOVING THIS IDEA SM!!

bearhybrid!oliver bearman x jaguarhybrid!senna!male!reader x wolfhybrid!kimi antonelli

synopsis: no one is surprised how much you get fined during the new season, but what is more surprising is how obsessed your boyfriends are with you and how cleanly you drive

author's note: tysm for the request!! i literally obsessed with this bc it's like a perfect balance plus i feel like ollie and kimi would just be absolutely obsessed with you no matter what. hopefully this is comprehensible bc my head is kinda fuzzy from my medicine plus my right eye is half open so hopefully it's good!

no one is surprised when you become a rookie for the 2025 season

you were an amazing driver after all, plus your grandfather would be so proud of how far you came (even if you never met him)

however, they didn't expect you to have two adorable and sweet boyfriends (who just so happened to bat and play with your tail all the time)

youve got a happy, overgrown bear cub and a happy wolf who follow you around (funny enough you are like a month younger than kimi) and you seem genuinely happy around them because your tail whisps around behind you

and you purr a lot with them

like a lot more than around anyone else

and when you're racing, you are like so competitive but surpringly clean when it comes to racing

you don't wanna risk getting fined more because you drive wrong

you already pay thousands because of your temper

which kimi and ollie are consistently trying to calm you down by rubbing against your side or petting your ears/tail because that always seems to calm you down

you are also super quiet when you walk around so you spook them a lot at night on accident

walking behind them to get water when they are getting water (spilled water and broken glass ends up on the floor quite a lot)

but you're also really cuddly but take up a lot of room

between you and ollie, kimi is practically on the floor most nights

that or you are sometimes sleeping on the headboard because it stimulates a tree branch in a way

sometimes, ollie and kimi will make a sort of den simulation on the bed so you curl up with them in a fort of blankets and pillows

but most of the time you are on the headboard which you had to get a thicker one so you didn't accidentally fall on your boyfriends heads

back to racing though, you are incredibly talented

like rookie season you hardly dnfed, only did like twice which was pretty good and you could consistently score points up in p8

the battles you had with others for higher up positions were incredible and incredibly clean which was at first surpring since ayrton senna was your grandfather

but fans turned out to love it since you seemed like prost in ways

made it a real debate on you were like more

you just wanna race and have fun with your boyfriends

also, you don't have social media because it pisses you off with all the rumors that surrounded you and your relationship with ollie and kimi

TAGS! (if you want to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m, @spoonfulofmilo, @seonghwaexile, @alex-wotton, @raizelchrysanderoctavius

#oli's 100 event #formula one x reader #formula one x male reader #f1 x reader #f1 x male reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula 1 x reader #oliver bearman x reader #oliver bearman x male reader #andrea kimi antonelli x male reader #andrea kimi antonelli x reader #ollie bearman x male reader #ollie bearman x reader #kimi antonelli x male reader #kimi antonelli x reader #bearnelli x reader #bearnelli x male reader #bearnelli

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whispereons · 2 years ago

Text

Masterlist!

I'm Whispereons and I mainly write yandere Genshin Impact fics. The SAGAU is my long time obsession if it wasn't obvious.

For ease of convenience I will have this masterlist pinned with my works, taglist, and tags used on my blog.

Currently I don't have any rules to abide by. I enjoyed all the comments, reblogs, asks and submissions I received thus far!

Just a warning for anyone new, I advise you to make sure your blog has some form of personalization. Like a profile pic, a sentence saying hello in your bio or even just a single post saying you're human will do. It's to prevent you from getting the report and block combo when I do my spam/porn bot purges.

SAGAU works

Oracle!Reader - with my current editor @serpent-benediction (hopefully) fixing up the older chapters.

Followers Special: 1K

Inazuma:

City - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 Sea - Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Liyue:

City - Part 9, Part 10, Wilderness - Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18 City V2 - Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25

(Don't judge my old works too harshly, I really was new at writing!)

Self-aware Genshin Impact Series (incomplete): Warmth, Screen, Team Player, Over This Shit

Oneshots - Another Drink, It's tough to be a God

Normal Yandere Genshin Impact:

Venti/Barbatoes x EOS!Reader: Planned, Protection or Possession?, Control

General Yandere Posts:

Male yandere x fem reader: Insecurity

Tags to use to navigate my posts!

#whisp's amateur work - all of my writing

#sagau oracle au - everything related to my oracle!reader (was implemented late so the first tag is more reliable)

#a whispered response - me answering asks/submissions

#whisp's collection - my personal collection of my fav authors, artists, and anything else. My mindless reblogs aren't tagged with anything to avoid cluttering the tag system.

#peering into the whisp - if I get personal asks, this is the tag I would use

If you regularly sends asks with some way to identify you then I usually give you a tag too.

My taglist for my Oracle!Reader:

If you are in italics, that means I couldn't tag you! That could be due to you being shadow banned or having your settings set to hide you from being searched. I will keep this master list updated with each new user, I truly don't mind tagging you all. It's honestly a nice feeling.

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername

@zhonglisfruityass, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado, @pix-stuff, @esthelily, @luxie963, @emmbny, @starsofabundance, @kbar1013, @xxblackroses623xx, @chxrlxtteee, @aludicpoet, @yandematic, @atrcclovsxoxo, @0lshadyl0, @esthelily, @t-rex-red, @ck123, @steadybreadbluebird, @118gremlin, @stratonia, @time-shardz, @farelady-fate, @valeriele3, @francisnyx, @byakuren100, @waveto-earth, @flyingpansaurus, @silverstarred, @iamapotatoe, @ghosthii, @beloveddroplet, @uchihaeirin, @ibelieveinsleep, @idk098, @thefirstonetoeverlikemeback, @toramune, @haaaaaades, @horologiumwise, @melovaaaa, @alittletiredcry, @aphxdea, @atsukawolfcat, @desirabletravel, @pinkpainc, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @yuyuzi-ling, @hyperfixationwhore

@juuuuuj101010, @avalordream, @kurayamioterasu, @tottybear, @koiikuno, @lynx-of-skies, @quacking-simp, @synthe4u, @kascar-chronicle, @hug4helios, @hug4helios, @silverstarred, @koiikuno, @ithoughtthinks, @remiivx, @lemonade7255, @melpomenelurks, @average-yandere-enjoyer, @mnhao, @fuji-sen, @altumsomnum, @hehothrowawayfae, @unofficialabortive, @magnum0pus2231, @xxnessinessiellexx, @multiliker, @intpessimistic, @kitsunelivesyet, @extremelytoastybread, @mercy-not-merci, @silvermoon617, @evaline-ethan, @fallintothechasm, @imgonnaeatthatglitter, @bunniotomia, @3noa3, @astro-stars, @beary-kalkus, @yourfavepookiebear, @original-person, @alexx197197, @dxprived4-starboys, @bunniotomia, @smokycoffe, @hydroarchon-furinaa, @armystaysatnct, @solunamare, @annememeist

#whisp's amateur work #a whispered response #sagau cult au #whisp's collection #peering into the whisp #official masterlist #For those wondering #The cat covering my blog is my dear Obsidian <3 #if he dies #I may actually drop Tumblr #but that's not going to happen as he's young and a housecat #he's living all 18 years estimated #and WOW I didn't expect to have so many liyue chapters #There's just so many people in Liyue that it makes it long #How do ya'll read my stuff??? lol

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scarlethexelove · 1 year ago

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can you please write Y/N and Wanda also Natasha is not dead here (up to you thooooo) , and Y/N pretty much replaced Vision. But before these events Natasha has always been there for Wanda, (after Endgame) so she didn’t make a hex but still griefed about Y/N and Wanda making a big move for Y/N’s reincarnation but in a good way. After Y/N being back from the dead. She learns that her soon to be wife has already fallen for Natasha and her reincarnation just meant nothing and Y/N didn’t go on with her life and ended it just there.

Wands regretted everything until she lost herself and made a big mess with the universe (pretty much MoM) and overall Wanda regretting everything, and when she gets us back (it can be Wanda taking another one of us in an another universe) or her just making us alive from the dead *this all can be up to you author*

I love your stories 🖤

I'm Sorry

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3590

Warnings: Cheating (Allusions to it but really it is there), Angst, Major character death, Mentions of Murdering innocent people, Angry Wanda, Suicide by others, Not really a happy ending, tiny bit of fluff like very little.

A/n: This one was fun. I hope I did it justice. I may have changed a little bit of it but I hope you still like it.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Everything hurts. You have a splitting headache and it feels like you got run over by a MACK truck. Your face scrunches up in pain, the lights too bright even with your eyes closed. Sensory overload has you curling in on yourself. Hands come up to clamp on your ears when you hear a voice, but it’s so loud and muffled that you don’t even know who is talking to you. All you want is for all of it to stop. You had been an experiment but that experience doesn’t compare to what you are feeling right now.

“Nat turn the lights off.” Wanda orders the older woman in the room. Nat flicks the light off as she watches Wanda brush some hairs back. You let out a whimper at the contact. It breaks her heart seeing you like this. When her hand brushes against your skin she can feel you. She feels your pain. Red whisps leave her fingers slowly seeping into your skin. Soon enough the pain starts to dissipate.

Wanda crawls in the bed behind you wrapping herself around your frame. You feel a body pressed against yours and you immediately know who it is. “Wanda.” You whisper. You turn around in her hold and nuzzle into her neck. “I’m here sweetheart.” Wanda combs her fingers through your hair. You're so tired and she feels like home. You fight to stay awake but her ministrations have your eyes closing. “It’s ok detka get some rest.” Wanda whispers and kisses the top of your head. You finally let yourself drift off to sleep.

A little over 5 years ago the team was fighting Thanos. Your powers let you see brief points into the future. You saw that if you died that Wanda would be safe. Thanos needed you gone to get what he wants but you also saw that in the end the Avengers would win. The event that sets that in motion was your death. So as much as it pained you you let it happen. To save Wanda, to save the world. Wanda could move on but the fate of the universe was in your hands.

“Wanda.” Nat says softly from the corner of the room. She looks at you curled into Wanda’s arms. A sight she had hoped to never see again. “Natty, she needs this.” Wanda says softly, still stroking your hair as you sleep. Nat just nods. It hurts but she knows it is something that Wanda had to do.

Your mind races. Your dreams are of your last memories. The fight with Thanos and how you let him kill you just in order to save everyone else. Your body shoots straight up as your chest heaves from the memories. You feel a hand rubbing up and down your back but you haven’t quite gained control. You mind questioning how you are here. Why are you alive? You should be dead. That was all your mind could see and you had accepted that fact but here you are. Tears stream down your face. “Why?” You're not sure what you are asking, who you are asking the question of. You feel so small. “Why what detka?” Wanda asks you with concern on her face. “Why am I here? I should be dead.” Your voice breaks and Wanda’s heart hurts seeing you like this.

Wanda starts explaining everything that had happened while you were gone. Excluding some details. They had worked tirelessly to bring back those that were snapped away. Wanda and Nat become the de facto leaders of the Avengers. It took 5 years but they finally did. Once that was done they set out to bring you back. It took some time but somehow when Bruce had snapped his fingers he was able to bring you back. But somehow you ended up in a pocket universe in a deep sleep. They were finally able to get you back safely. All the information flooding into your mind is a lot to handle but eventually you understand. Somehow the universe had different plans for you.

It’s been a few months since you came back. Most things are the same but something seems off. Wanda hasn’t been as loving towards you. Before she was always so touchy and wanting nothing more than to crawl under the sheets cuddling while watching some sitcoms. But now she barely even gives you a hug. Sleeping in the same bed has you feeling like she isn’t even there. She is a million miles away even if she is only right beside you. Your heart hurts not understanding, is she still mad at you for letting Thanos kill you. Anytime you try to talk to her she just brushes you off and says nothing is wrong. So you're left alone to your thoughts and worries.

Nat had moved into your shared home while you were away. The two women grew closer at the loss of so many others. You want to be angry and jealous that Nat gets more attention than you but you still trust Wanda hoping that she will come around eventually.

You’re walking towards the kitchen when you can hear a hushed discussion between Wanda and Nat. You stop just shy of the door frame listening in when you hear your name mentioned. “Wanda you need to tell Y/n.” Nat says her body leaning on the counter and arms crossed against her chest. “Tell her what Nat?” Wanda counters. She sits at the table with a sad look adorning her face. “You know what Wands.” Wanda lets out a sigh. “I can’t do that to her Nat.” Wanda’s voice is low. “You can’t keep lying to her. You can’t keep lying to me. I love you Wanda.” There is a pause in the conversation before Wanda speaks up. “I love you too.” Your heart drops the moment the words spill from Wanda’s mouth.

You’re quick to turn on your heels as the tears start to stream down your face. Holding in a sob as it all makes sense now. In your absence the two had fallen in love. You’ve somehow become the other woman in Wanda’s life. You don’t know how you didn’t see this coming. Your powers should have felt this but they hadn’t and now you’re left heartbroken. You push into your shared room focusing on pulling yourself back together. You can’t let them know that you know until you figure out what to do.

The buzzing of your phone pulls you out of your despair for the moment. You see Fury’s name flash on the screen. You quickly wipe your tears and answer the phone. “Sir.” You say masking the waver in your voice. “Y/l/n I have a mission for you. Since you have been cleared for duty I would like you to head out tonight with Barton and Barnes. I have sent over the reports for you to go over. Good luck out there and glad to have you back.” The phone line goes dead as the man hangs up the phone. You open the report sent to your phone. You now see the flashes in your mind of how the mission will go. And that is where you see it. What you’re going to do.

That night you enter the Quinjet greeted by the two men. Hugs and joy at your return. Your powers are always a significant help to missions. You three go over the plans for the mission. You lay out what you had seen in your vision, excluding one crucial part that the men don’t need to know. You know if they did they would try and stop you. But your heart aches and you put on a fake smile so that no one would expect a thing.

Everything was set to go. A long message meant to play for Wanda after it was already too late. This would be your last mission. Wanda and Nat would have all that they could ever want. You wouldn’t be the burden that you know you are. They should have just left you dead if they were going to do this to you. So you made that decision for them. You weren’t going to come back from this mission alive.

The mission was going perfectly. Playing out exactly as you had seen it. Bucky and Clint were together and far away from you. You snuck into the building off the side. It held some hostages that had been taken by Hydra. You snuck in taking out every agent that you passed. It didn’t take long for you to make it to the hostages. You were able to release them from their binds and get them out of the building safely. But you knew it wasn’t over yet. Bucky and Clint were waiting exactly where you told them too. Having each hostage run towards them for safety while you stood with your back towards the open area.

You waited knowing what was to come soon. You could change the outcome but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to be in a world where Wanda loved someone else. You waited with bated breath as the last hostage ran towards your teammates. You exhale the air in your lungs before a sharp pain in your stomach is felt. You grit your teeth turning around firing off a few rounds, but you're hit with another round to the shoulder. You can hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Clint calling out for you but you push through. Another shot to the leg sends you kneeling on the ground. You push through the pain as you stand. A few steps forward as you unload your mag into the man. Another man appears with his finger on the trigger of his gun. You watch as an arrow sores through the air and hits the man directly in the chest. His finger squeezes the trigger as he falls. You’re hit with the array of bullets. Your body sways before falling to your knees then falling to the ground. The ground below you stains red as your body goes cold.

Wanda felt a change in the universe. She cries out causing Nat to panic next to her. Wanda clutches her chest in pain. She felt this twice before. Once when Pietro died, the second when you died fighting Thanos. She had never wanted to feel that pain again but here she is feeling it. The world stops turning at that moment. Not again she thinks tears streaming down her face.

The doorbell rings but Wanda doesn’t hear it. Nat tries to console the younger woman pleading for her to tell her what is going on. It continues to ring when no one answers until Nat gets up and finds out what is going on. Wanda sits sobbing on the couch. Nat walks back in with a folded paper with your hand writing on it. Wanda scribbled on the top.

Wanda sees this snatching the paper from her hands and quickly opening it before reading the words delicately written across the page.

My dearest Wanda,

You’re reading this because I’m gone. I’m sorry to do this to you

but I can’t live life like this. I know that you no longer love me.

I see the way you look at Natasha and I know she is now

the love of your life. I want you to be happy. I saw this coming

and I could have changed it but who am I to keep you from the

one you love. Don’t mourn for me, just live your life. You don’t

have to worry about me anymore and you can be happy, that

is all I have ever wanted for you. But my love I can’t live in

a world where you love someone else. So this is goodbye.

Love,

Y/N

Tears hit the paper blurring the words in front of her. Wanda’s heart shatters into a million pieces. How could this have happened? How could she have thrown away all that you two have? She is absolutely disgusted with herself and with Nat. This isn’t how it was supposed to go but she was blinded and now her eyes are finally open but now it could be too late.

Through the tears Wanda gets up making her way out the door and immediately taking off towards the compound. Her magic lifts her into the sky as she flies as fast as she possibly can to the one place she knows you would be. Praying that maybe it was all wrong, maybe you can be saved. Nat calls out for her as she leaves her alone standing in the yard.

The ground cracks below Wanda’s feet as she lands hard on the ground. Anger and guilt pumping through her veins as she walks towards the building. Her magic slamming doors open as she makes her way to the med bay. Your body is already lying there. Bucky and Clint talking outside the room. Windows lining the wall as they keep looking back at your body. Wondering what they would tell the angry redhead but they didn’t have to wait too long. They spot Wanda fear and sorrow on their faces. “Wanda we can -” Clint is cut off. “Save it.”

Wanda makes her way into the room. The boys walked away looking like kicked puppies. Wanda’s breath picks up as she sees your still body encased in a black bag. The top half of it unzipped revealing your pale skin and blood staining your suit. You look so peaceful like you could be sleeping. Wanda cups your cheek, a light jerk of her hand when she feels how cold you are. She lets her magic slip out the ends of her fingers going into your head. Fresh tears streaming down her face. “I can’t feel you.” A sob wracking her body. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry love you never deserved any of this.”

Wanda silently sobs as she sits next to you. Your hand in hers as she just stares blankly at your body. The door clicks open a while later. Wanda doesn’t turn to look. “Go away.” Her voice is hoarse from all the crying but she doesn’t care. “Wands.” Nat whispers. “I said leave.” Wanda’s voice raises as her head snaps towards the door red swirling in her eyes. Nat knows she is just upset so she doesn’t back down. “Detka.” She whispers. “Don’t you dare detka me.” Wanda stands letting your hand drop off the side of the bed. “This is all your fault. She is fucking dead because of you.” Wanda seethes. “Don’t put that blame on me Wanda. You're just as much the problem.” Wanda stalks towards Nat red surrounding her body and slamming her into the window, a crack forming behind her body. “Don’t you fucking dare blame me. It should have been you. You should have died back then. I would still have her. She is more of a woman than you will ever be. I let myself be blinded by you. Blinded by the love you gave but I didn’t love you. I don’t fucking love you.” As hard as Nat can be, Wanda's words cut deep. Tears shine in her eyes as she holds back a sob. Wanda sends Nat’s body flying through walls until she lands outside. Wanda follows as she does so. Releasing Nat’s body which is now battered and bruised. She then flies off into the night.

It’s been months since anyone has seen Wanda, held up in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere surrounded by mountains. Some have tried but they always get blasted out so they stopped trying. She has been lost to the Avengers and they aren’t sure they could ever get her back. The day they lost you they also lost her.

Wanda’s black tipped fingers comb through a book. A very dangerous book. The more she searches the darkness in her soul grows and the blacked tips grow. She has tried everything in the book to bring you back to life but none of it works. She had another attempt today, something new, something hopeful but it ends with a magical outburst throwing everything in the cabin. She continues to comb through the pages ignoring the disarray around her. She closes her eyes and lets her magic do the work. It’s not long before she finds something new. She thought she had seen all that this book had to offer. All that the Darkhold had to offer to the Scarlet Witch.

You are sitting in your living room, two small boys cuddled into each of your sides as you watch a movie. Empty bowls of ice cream sitting on the coffee table that you have your feet propped up on. You laugh as your son Tommy tries to mimic you. You other son Billy giggling along. Tommy huffs and crosses his arms. “Not funny.” He mumbles. You can’t help but ruffle his hair which makes him swat at your hand causing you to chuckle. “One day buddy you will reach it.” You kiss the top of his head. All of you falling back into the silence, the only sound is the movie playing.

Your mind flashes to a vision of Wanda but not your Wanda standing in the middle of your living room. Her face twisted into something you can’t even imagine in your wildest dreams from the woman you loved. The pain that she has caused to get to this point. As your world comes back to you you are met with a star shaped portal in the middle of your living room. What was once an image in your head now in front of you.

Wanda’s hand wraps around the young girl's throat in front of you. “What did you do?” She seethes. The two boys next to you are terrified. You quickly stand and tell them to run but Wanda’s head snaps towards you. The couch you were once on is now thrown at the stairs blocking the way. You push your boys behind you in a protective manner. Wanda’s eyes trailing the boys curiously, a small warm spot forming in her heart seeing your protective nature. She didn’t expect to find you with kids but she always wanted a family with you so it can’t hurt.

“Wanda!” You yell at her. Wanda is startled by the anger in your voice. You have never yelled at her like that. “Let the girl go.” You demand of her. Her hand slips from the girl's neck as she coughs on the ground holding her throat. Wanda starts stalking towards you but you back up with your boys behind you.

Billy tugs on your shirt a little trying to get your attention and you quickly look back at him. “Is that Mama?” His voice sounds so small. Your attention quickly turns back to the woman in front of you who has stopped. You can see tears in her eyes at Billy’s words. “That is not your Mama.” You shake your head. You can see the hurt on Wanda’s face as she gets closer to you. “I can be.” She says a crack in her voice.

You start to walk towards the woman but your boys try to stop you. You motion that you will be ok as you stand in front of Wanda. “You could never be my Wanda.” She falls to her knees, her hand on her chest as she looks up at you. “I can see your hurt and your pain but you have caused so much more and for what.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I did it for you.” She whispers. “I would never want you to do this for me. Wanda you murdered people. Good people.” Wanda stands back up and moves towards you, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You back up away from her touch. “I wanted you back.” You scoff and shake your head. “After seeing what you did I could never want you. I miss my Wanda but you are not her and could never be.”

Wanda’s face twists in anger. You try to back up again but she is quicker this time. She grabs your wrist in her hands. “Wanda that hurts.” You whimper as she digs her nails in. “Too bad. I’ll make you love me just you see. Now that I have you back I will never let you go again.” There is a panic that rises in you. “We will have the perfect little family.” She looks behind you. “Won’t we boys?” They are too scared to say or do anything just holding onto each other for comfort.

Wanda keeps one hand on you as she turns around. Her wrist flicking as America is thrown back through the portal. It dissipates from the middle of the room before she turns back to you. You struggle to get free but she is stronger than you remember. She clicks her tongue and looks at you, her hand finally reaching to cup your cheek. Red whisps leave her fingers as they sink into your mind. “All mine now.” She replaces every memory and thought of your Wanda with her. Changes the fear to love. You’re hers now and no one will change that. Her magic soon flowed into the boys having the perfect little family. She would tear the world in two to keep you and the boys forever.

#syd answers #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda marvel #wanda #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader angst

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jolenes-doppelganger · 7 months ago

Text

Pirates Do Pilates- Kinktober Week One

Ilsa Faust x Fem!Reader

MINORS DNI 18+

Summary: A mission gone awry leads to a cramped hideaway in a vent. What could go wrong?

Kinks: Forced proximity, sex in tight spaces, pussy eating, 69, squirting, forced muffling.

Warnings: This is a Kinktober fic and just pure smut. If you read this as a minor, (and I see that you've read it by checking the age in your bio following your like) YOU WILL GET BLOCKED!

A/N: Starting off Kinktober with a bang ;)

Word Count: 2.9k

Reblogs and comments are encouraged and appreciated!

In the cramped, stale air of the vents, Ilsa’s breathing echoed grotesquely, sliding off of the walls in wet puffs. Your breaths were as raspy as hers, lungs burning as you tried to quiet them. Every puff of air traveled down, skittering off the walls and potentially giving away your location. Taking larger, slower breaths was better than trying to force anemic, barely there whisps of air like Ilsa. The risk of being detected for the sound of your breathing was minimal, there was no sense trying to force oneself to be quiet. Ilsa’s breathing got heavier, more painful sounding. You couldn’t blame her, this position sucked. The mission had required sneaking into a russian outpost to steal away a blueprint for the next big weapon of mass destruction. It was boring, basic, and otherwise uninteresting. And it went well. That was until one of your tools had tripped a detection alarm. Who puts lead in a wristwatch anyways? Climbing into the vents was a last ditch effort to stay safe, but you’d both entered it differently.

Your coverage to escape detection was a slab of concrete about six feet wide and three feet tall. Behind it lay your hiding spot. The concrete blocked a section of the air vent, thus making your position undetectable by thermal cameras and metal detectors. Being trapped in a vent together for a mission wasn’t ideal, and it would’ve been bearable. That was if you hadn’t entered the vent like you had. Ilsa had done the sensible thing, climbing into it head first, face down. You’d swung your legs in so that you were on your back. The maneuver was so quick that neither of you noticed the problem until you were trapped in that small space, her knees on either side of your head and her face inches from your crotch. Both of your bodies had to stay behind the block, and this is where the trouble began. Being the senior agent on this mission, Ilsa had the responsibility of teaching you to learn from your mistakes, but in this moment she was the one suffering for them.

You could hear her breathing getting worse as she continued holding a plank to avoid touching you. It was professional, and courteous, but she’d been at this for at least fifteen minutes, and the strain was obvious. Wheezes and gasps came more frequently, making it clear just how tired she was. Speaking was deadly in such a noise conducting space which left morse code as your way of communicating.

“D/O/W/N.” you tapped out on her thigh, firm enough for her to feel it through her oppressive leather leggings.

Ilsa didn’t comply. If you had been able to see past her ass, you would’ve watched her vehemently shake her head, determined to push through. There was no pushing through this, she was exhausting herself needlessly. Again you tapped out a command.

“D/O/W/N B/R/E/A/T/H L/O/U/D.”

Ilsa muttered a small curse, a sound made detectable due to the metal of the vents. It didn’t echo as far as it could have, but the both of you tensed as the sound slithered away into the vent. Her abdomen began to tremble, breathing growing louder and more punctuated as she fought a losing battle. Ilsa’s stubbornness would get you both killed, it didn’t take experience to see that. Pressing down on her hips caused the plank to crack, and she slumped atop your body. There was no noise of protest, just slower and more controlled breaths as her tired abs were given rest. She didn’t dare move, and you didn’t either. It was uncomfortable, your view was the dim outline of her ass against metal, but it was temporary. Both of you laid without comment, balanced grotesquely like a yin-yang. Minutes passed without interruption. Heat grew between you, the weight and material of your leather bodysuits conducting and roasting you both in the claustrophobic space. Sweat trickled down your brow, and again you heard her breathing worsen. There was no way to access your own zipper in this position, her body covered yours and the position kept Ilsa’s inaccessible to herself.

“H/O/T C/L/O/T/H/E O/F/F H/E/L/P” Ilsa tapped your thigh, just as you were sure you were going to be boiled alive in your gear.

The heat was mutual, it seemed. Taking in another big breath, Ilsa mustered the strength to lift herself off of your body. Your hand fumbled in between your bodies, groping around depressingly until you found her zipper, pulling the suit open. The angle made it impossible for you to grab your own zipper, so Ilsa intervened, reaching under her body and roving around your chest with her fingers until she found the zipper and yanked down. Desperate rustling ensued as you both tore off the leather, leaving only your loose undershirts. You swore you saw her skin steam, and it clicked just how hot she would have been, trying to maintain a plank in that jumpsuit for as long as she had. It made the endeavor all the more commendable, and the feeling of air on her skin must have been twice as liberating. The vent echoed as Ilsa sighed, slumping atop you again.

“P/A/N/T/S” she lazily commanded.

The pants should come off too, you silently agreed. Reaching for the zippers on the sides of her calf was easier, and you were able to completely rid each other of the garments without much maneuvering, except for raising the hips briefly. Again she sighed, resting her head on your thigh as air caressed her sweaty skin. Neither of you gave much of a shit about being in tank tops and underpants around each other, not when you’d both been minutes away from cooking. You’d been in worse straits, but the immediate relief of discomfort made this one memorable.

A peaceful silence filled the vent, and the two of you simply relaxed, waiting for the search to stop. The security below was good, but not good enough to discover, let alone guess where you’d hidden away. The two of you were persevering enough to stay camped out here until they gave up the search and blamed the disappearance of plans on an intern. The facility light below turned off, leaving the vents in total darkness. Lesser agents would’ve scurried away at this moment, but Ilsa knew better. She’d taught you better. The two of you weren’t out of the clear yet.

Ilsa’s breaths felt more pronounced now, the rise and fall of her chest and the weight of her body on yours felt striking in the darkness of the vent. The more you focused, the more you could feel her breath ghosting over your thighs, sweaty head pressed lazily against the curve of your hip. In any other context this position would’ve been exciting, but this was your senior mission partner, and thus there couldn’t be anything sensual about it. Sure, agents were notorious for hooking up when on long term missions like this one, but never once had Ilsa ever made a move on you. Private lives weren’t on the table for discussion, so you’d always assumed she had a reason to refrain from hooking up. She was pretty, experienced, and probably more than acquainted with living a double life. Physical proximity blended with emotional distance made your relationship all the more befuddling. You’d both caught each other masturbating in the shower on several occasions, but it was never discussed. The door was just closed, and you waited until the other was done before you returned. Agents did what they had to do to stay sane on missions. That included never speaking about what they did to stay sane.

The vents were getting colder now. The heat of her body and metal beneath your back kept you insulated enough to hardly feel the chill. Her breathing grew shallower as she relaxed, making the breaths against your thigh more conspicuous. There was a new smell in the shaft too. Earthy, sharp, even musky. You couldn’t tell if you liked the smell or not, it was just odd and all encompassing. Even if you tilted your head in the attempt to dispel it from your nostrils, you couldn’t. The next several minutes of distraction consisted of trying to guess what it was. The distraction was only so good, and soon your awareness returned to your own sensations.

Ilsa’s breath was ghosting over your inner thighs more regularly as she waited, soft puffs of air curving down, sliding over that intimate flesh just below your panties. Soft, barely there caresses, teasing the tiny hairs, tickling them and drawing your awareness exactly where it definitely should not be. The sensation was driving you up a wall, igniting an inescapable conundrum of conscious feeling in your mind. Not only was it aggravating, your body was responding to it. Toes curling, goosebumps erupting, and worse, a distant throb in your pelvis. As you processed the first sensation of wetness against your panties you knew you were screwed. From front to back, side to side, posterior to anterior, and from the top of your head down to your big toe. Screwed.

Sure, it was pitch black, and there was no way she could see, but fuck, her face was right there. In this twilight where senses were heightened by the lack of other stimulation, there was no way she wouldn’t smell something. The smell from before was getting stronger as your breathing got heavier. It was everywhere now, and as you tilted your head up to figure out where it was coming from, the tip of your nose found its source. Slightly damp, musky, and definitely biological, you realized too late what you had been smelling, and you realized that your breath had tortured Ilsa as much as hers tortured you.

“Hey-” Ilsa shrieked at the contact, cutting herself off with her hand as the sound echoed down the vents.

Below, the sound of boots was heard hitting the ground in rapid succession, following the echo of the vents right below where you and Ilsa were hiding. Your breathing accelerated, and that too became acutely obvious in the sound-conductive metal shaft. In a moment of panic, a desperate attempt to muffle your breaths, Ilsa pressed herself down, muffling you with exactly what had been the cause of this faux pas. Her pussy.

All you could process, all you could feel was Ilsa’s panty covered cunt muffling your breaths, bearing her pubic down against your chin, skull pressed against the metal vent. Your nose was covered, and you desperately opened your mouth, breathing through the cloth of her underwear to gather enough air to function. You were muffled, but at what cost? Every single breath taken in was mingled with the smell and the subtle taste of her arousal. Ilsa’s breathing was just as obvious as yours had been a moment earlier and as the bootsteps drew closer, Ilsa, whether out of spite or tortuous ingenuity, buried her face against your pussy. Not a single wisp of sound was heard in the vent, clumsy footsteps and distant shouting erupting as the scouts lost their trail. The two of you lay there, breathing around the other’s fluttering sex. Minutes passed like this, the insufferable torment of the most mild stimulus conceived against both of your aching pussies, leaving the both of you in a purgatory of almost-sensation.

Your senior mission partner, whether out of wisdom or madness, (you couldn’t be sure), was the one who broke the tension. Ilsa’s tongue darted out, tracing the subtle lines of your labia with her tongue through your panties. Slow, delicate patterns, machinations of desire causing a delicious tension to form in your very center. The moan of relief you delivered was muffled by her pussy, but she squeezed your thigh viciously regardless. The message was clear: You had to be quiet. Not a sound, not a gasp or a whimper. The price of deliverance was steep, but there were ways to pay it forward. You were kinder to Ilsa than she was to you, pulling her gusset to the side before you traced her gaping entrance with your tongue. Her smell was inviting, now that you could identify it. The lack of light made the experience purely tactile and olfactory, occasionally audible if you moved your tongue or lips clumsily enough to cause a squelch.

With every soft lick, Ilsa’s cunt fluttered, winking open and closed, beckoning you further. It was a soft feast of flesh and tongue, your lips delicately tasting her arousal as the two of you descended deeper into madness. (Or bliss).

Ilsa, motivated by your soft stimulation, pulled your panties free of your thighs, leaning down and rolling your clit between her lips and tongue. The hard points of her teeth dug in around the flesh of your clitoris, the nerve brushing against the sides as her tongue rolled it in tantalizingly slow circles. Though she couldn’t speak, deprived of all noise except the rush of air in and out of her nose, her body spoke, begging for more with soft flutters, flirtatious drops of arousal, and most overtly, by the press of her hips down against your face.

Her hips danced in slow circles, rubbing her clitoris into your mouth as your nose pressed against the wet ridges of her opening, spearing it open and closed with wet plops of air as the rocking continued. Every lick was rewarded, every devout act of passion returned. Her hands dug into your thighs, using the muscle as leverage to push her hips down and face forwards again and again and again. Your arms found purchase around her hips, fingers tracing the dimples of venus that rested just above the curve of her ass. The delicate rocking continued, you both cradling the other as the debauchery continued.

Every cant of her hips made her smell more prominent, her taste more concentrated, the warmth of her flesh more noticeable until you were drowning in it. Your lips latched to her clit, tongue rolling over it in a tender, infinite figure eight. Ilsa followed your example, dragging the both of you closer to a release as she spread your labia open to deliver a firmer suck to your engorged clitoris. The wet sounds that filled the vent weren’t subtle, the threat of discovery still remained ever present, but what mattered to you both was finally, finally getting off. The scouts had left this room anyways, and if they were going to kill you it’d better be after the two of you climaxed.

The soft rolling of Ilsa’s hips evolved into regular circles as she delighted in the pull of her clit in and out of your mouth as you suckled fervently. She returned the favor with the laps of her tongue, fingers tugging your clitoral hood back entirely. Her breath wooshed over your entrance as she nipped and sucked at your clit, teasing the coil of release higher and tighter until your legs clenched painfully. The action was deceptive, Ilsa orgasming first. She breathed heavily out of her nose as her cunt violently fluttered around your nose. Whatever plans you had to enjoy the moment were ripped away by her desire to share the moment. She took out all of her pleasure on your poor clit, suckling so violently that your body throbbed from your pussy, up to your neck and back down to your toes as your body trembled in a violent attempt to stay quiet. White stars exploded around your eyelids, arousal dribbling out of your hole and urethra as your body felt stimulation through every angle. You kept your mouth against her cunt, muffling yourself lest a single sound escape.

The moment faded away, leaving the two of you heaving for air, as close as you’d ever been. Neither of you could handle another, remaining limp and breathy as you processed your highs.

Rest wasn’t available to agents, even post-coital. Ilsa’s watch vibrated, alerting her that an exit had opened up. Scrambling for clothes, the two of you managed to slip on about half of your suits, crawling out of the vents and slipping through the facility as fast as humanly possible. Your legs wobbled, her knee almost gave out. It was a high in itself, escaping with her like this.

←→

Inside the safehouse your high continued. Giggling like school girls and playfully shoving the other out of the way, the post-mission high had never been so dizzying. You were both tearing off your clothes, desperate to be the first into the shower, to wash the sweat and fluids off. She was a mean fighter, dragging you onto the floor by your half-off undershirt, you snagged her ankle so she fell on her front. Even as you achieved victory, the coldest, most heavenly burst of water raining down over your flushed skin, she still wasn’t done fighting. Slipping in the cramped stall, Ilsa manhandled you out of the way, pinning you to the wall as she scrubbed her face under the showerhead.

“Bitch.” you snarked, slapping her ass

“Yeah, well you squirted on my fucking face.”

The two of you stared at each other in silence, water thrumming against the shower walls as you both processed.

“... Am I supposed to apologize for something you enjoyed?”

You both erupted in giggles again, limbs and suds tangling together as you took turns scrubbing the other clean of your fun. What was October without a budding romance?

Tags: @ilovehotactresses @marvelwomenrule @midnight-lestrange

If you want to be added to my tag list for Kinktober (or generally), please let me know!

#rebecca ferguson x reader #rebecca ferguson x you #ilsa faust smut #ilsa faust x reader smut #ilsa faust x you smut #ilsa faust x reader #ilsa faust x you #mission impossible #rebecca ferguson #ilsa faust #wlw #lesbian #kinktober 2024 #lesbian smut #rebecca ferguson/ reader #rebecca ferguson/ you #ilsa faust/ reader #ilsa faust/ you

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jinnie-ret · 2 years ago

Note

Hiii I was wondering if you could possibly do a skz reaction to their s/o having angel fangs (like the piercing) like maybe they get them done without telling them or just them dating who has them if you're okay with it ofc, thank you for taking your time to read my request. I understand if you don't want to do it :] have a good day/ night

skz reaction to s/o with angel fangs

genre: fluff, angst if you squint

content warnings: none

word count: 1.3k

This is my first ever time writing a reaction fic so I hope you enjoy it!! :)))

I really enjoyed doing this one! Hope you have a good day/night too my lovely <3

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bang Chan

Chan loved his sweet girlfriend so so much. He thought you were the kindest person in the world and all he could ever think when he saw you was how sweet you are. Next to your shy temperament, you stood out in a different way to him with your silver angel fangs piercing.

"How can you be so cool and cute at the same time?" he admired you from where you were both cuddled on the sofa in the recording studio.

"Channie..." you blushed, hiding your face. He thought you'd be used to his compliments by now after being together for two years but no.

"I'm serious! It's making my brain... malfunction," he said, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"That's a good thing, right?" you boldly asked him, smiling.

"I can't with you, you're going to be the death of me," he squeezed you tighter in his arms.

Lee Know

Your boyfriend has his own quirks, his own habits that you had noticed ever since you met him, and one of them was poking the tips of your angel fangs. He was always pressing the pads of his fingers into the spikes.

"My little vampire girlfriend," he cooed as he didn't even look you in the eyes but stared at your lips and the jewellery adorning it.

"I'm not little," you rolled your eyes.

"Okay, okay I get it, 'careful I bite' and all that stuff your normally say," he teased, ruffling your hair as you groaned.

"If anything you're the vampire, it's like you want your fingers to bleed or something you weirdo," you folded your arms and rolled your eyes at him jokingly.

"You're not scary," he simply smirked back at your attempt to pretend to be angry, and that caused you both to crack a smile, the admiration you had for each other clear to see.

Changbin

He hadn't said anything yet. It had been 2 hours since you got back from the piercing studio and he'd said nothing.

"Sooooo, have you noticed?" you suddenly turned to him, making him choke on his glass of water.

"Of course I have! just didn't know what to say straight away..." Changbin said, deep in thought after recovering from the water incident.

"You don't like them?" you twiddled your thumbs awkwardly, sensing he didn't like them and he had kept himself quiet to not say anything that might hurt your feelings. At least he had your best interests in mind.

"No I love them... there's just too many words to describe how perfect you are," he turned you to face him, hand gently stroking your chin.

Oh.

So he did like them.

"Well, we've got time," you shrugged confidently, causing his hand to drop from your face as he whined.

"Stoppp! I was being cute!"

Hyunjin

He has just come back from dance practice and you were chilling in his room waiting to see him. You had just gotten the angel fangs piercing done today, and were expecting Hyunjin back anytime and wanted to see his reaction.

"Are we having a hotness competition or what?" he dropped his duffle bag with spare clothes on the floor, watching you relaxed on his bed.

"There's no competition, baby," you winked at him in an over the top way, making him giggle as he laid down next to you and admired them, caressing your cheek slowly with his hand as he analysed your face, like he was trying to burn it into his memory.

"You're staring," you whispered.

"Can't help it," he placed a chaste kiss upon your lips and pulled back to keep staring.

"You're like a magpie," you giggled, and he playfully whacked you on the arm as he rolled away from you and covered his face with his hand.

"You're such an idiot, Y/N!" he cackled.

Han

You walked back into the dorms, ready to see your boyfriend and surprise him, yet he seemed to have spotted you before you could have seen him, his blanket bundled self on the sofa now flying towards you.

"Baby? What did you do?" he gasped, slowly walking up to after his dramatic rise from relaxation.

"Look! Aren't they so cool?" you bounced on your toes, grinning with your fangs peeking under your lip, yet he was still worried.

"Did it hurt?!?" he fussed over you, lightly touching his own lip and wondering how it felt.

"A little bit... but it's worth it," you shrugged, still smiling lightly at him, his concern over you only making you feel fuzzy and warm.

"Beauty is pain, I get it," he nodded, eyes fixated on the shining jewellery.

"We should be matching," you winked at him.

"Oh no, I'll let you keep your tiger status my love," he waved you off, now pulling you into a tight hug and appreciating you, though you couldn't fully rest your head against him as he just wanted to keep admiring you.

Felix

Before you could even breathe, you heard the squeals of your excited boyfriend.

"You finally got them done!" he embraces you and forced you to jump around with him.

"Yes! Don't you think it looks good!" you stood back and started doing random poses to show off.

"It's literally perfect, so you!" Felix gushed, rushing to grab his phone.

"I knowww, I love it!" you blushed, happy that Felix liked how it looked too.

"Let me take photos for you, sweetheart," Felix took lots of photos, ones that you definitely posted on Instagram later, your favourite ones being where his head peeked into frame and kissed the piercings upon your lips.

Seungmin

A lot of Stays were shocked that such a clean cut idol, got with a girl who presented more of a punk image in her aesthetic. You were truly opposites, but that's what made you two work so well together.

The two of you were currently walking the streets of Seoul on a Sunday evening, hands clasped together.

"I'm getting weird looks again... I wish I never got these," you muttered sadly under your breath, feeling people's eyes dart to you, and it wasn't just your paranoia, you.kmew that this time.

"Why would you say such a thing?" Seungmin asked, upset on your behalf and feeling the same way himself that you were hurting.

"I just feel..." you trailed off, not really wanting to continue your sentence.

"Tell me," Seungmin insisted, pulling you over to a bench from the both of you to sit down on.

"I think people don't like me being with you and think I'm ruining your image," you sighed, absentmindedly tracing your finger against your angel fangs piercing in particular.

"If anything you're improving it, darling," Seungmin hushed you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and cuddling you to him, a delicate kiss on your forehead following the affectionate action.

You blushed and his your face, mumbling nonsensical words as you couldn't get a response out.

"Hahaha, don't go shy on me now," he laughed with a big grin on his face.

"You're too sweet to me," you smiled back up at him, peacefully taking in the city lights and basking in the warmth of your boyfriend's arms.

Jeongin

Wow, was the word most people used to describe the pair of you when they saw you together. Probably apart too.

You were a power couple plain and simple. Hot, muscular Jeongin, paired with a hot, pierced reader? Match made in heaven.

"What are you going to get done next?" Jeongin asked as you were both out getting coffee.

"Jeongin, I've literally had these for a couple of hours..." you facepalmed at your boyfriend, who although eager to see your new ones wanted to know how many more you'd get, already imagining all the different places available on your body where there was room.

"You're right, I need more time to obsess over these," he smirked and cockily raised his eyebrows as you from across the table.

"What am I gonna do with you?" you shook your head and lightly laughed at his antics.

tagged: @kiraisastay @skz-streamer @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain

#skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #skz x reader #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fic #stray kids imagines #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #stray kids reaction #reaction

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kaisers-house-of-desires · 2 years ago

Note

For the Malleus x Vampire Y/N, I mostly thought it would be fun if the reader was freshly turned, perhaps by Malleus or Lilia, and as a result wished to test the limits of their sexual relationship with their boyfriend/husband

- J

Hmm...I think this is doable~! A bit of a lengthier one but I do hope you enjoy~

Title: Love Bites

Characters: Malleus x Vampire!m!Reader | Lilia Vanrouge

Contains: Vampirism, clothing sex

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

Thirsty...you were thirsty.

Your throat felt severely dry and raw, like you were swallowing nothing but cotton and razor blades. Eyes, once your usual color, were now a bright bloody red, slitted pupils blowing out. Looking up, you saw the one that did this to you.

The frightened Lilia sat just some feet from you, his lips and chin stained with your blood. He looked just as frightened as you, just as confused. Neither of you were sure of what was going on. All you could remember was you offered Lilia your wrist for a quick drink, as he hadn't had anything authentic in awhile, but after that, your mind went blank.

"L...Li..." Speaking was a task all on its own, your voice barely coming out in a squeak. You felt like if you couldn't get something to drink soon, your very body would just give out. You reached over to him, using your body to plead for help.

"D-Don't move!" Lilia frantically stood up, panting lightly as if he wasn't breathing that whole time. "I-I...I know what to do, h-hold on!" You had never seen him so scared or run off so clumsily.

You kept your breathing slow, trying desperately not to swallow again. Though it felt like breathing was making it dryer and rougher. Your vision blurred and darkened at the edges as you waited, the sound in your ears slowly becoming nothing but your own heartbeat, which soon faded as it ceased to beat. That only spiked your worries more.

My heart's not beating...my heart's not beating, my heart's not beating--

"...(Y/n)...?" The new voice jarred you out of your thoughts, and as you looked up, your vision no longer held that dark border and tried to focus itself. The one that stood before you was none other than your partner Malleus, who looked even more confused than you did. "Wh-What...?"

"M...Mal..."

"H-Here!"

Lilia's voice now grabbed your attention, tearing you away from Malleus as he came running back, sliding down beside you as he held a glass thick red juice.

"I-It's some of my tomato juice. I-It may not be the real thing but...d-drink this."

You didn't need to be told twice as you practically ripped the cup from Lilia's hands, gulping down the liquid. You didn't care what it was, in all honesty. All you cared about was getting something wet down your throat.

Whatever conversation Malleus and Lilia were having didn't register to you as you glugged down the drink. Luckily, it was enough to satiate a bit of your thirst, though you wouldn't get to feel the satisfaction of it as you finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

---

It was like you blinked.

Your eyes opened to a new room, one of grey bricks and green fire candles. A scent made you bolt up, and you sniffed the air, as if trying to find what that...delicious scent was.

"Ah, (y/n), you're awake!"

Your head snapped over to Malleus, who was staying beside the bed. He looked relieved to see you, but you...you didn't see him, not in the way a typical person would.

Your colorful vision turned a desaturated color as red, smokey whisps slowly spiraled from Malleus. Him. You were smelling him. That wonderful scent was coming from your boyfriend.

Unable to think your hand shot out at him, only for him to grasp your wrist and pin it to the pillow. You whipped your other hand out, him catching that as well and pinning it. You uncontrollably thrashed your legs, attempting to break free from his hold, but once he swung his own leg and straddled your hips, you were trapped. There was no way of escaping the strength of Malleus.

"(Y/N), you need to listen," he stated firmly, his voice calm but demanding, "but to listen, you need to calm down. Please."

His words slowly registered with you, and you did your best to relax despite your bared fangs.

"Lilia seemed to have transformed you...and we're unsure how it happened. However, along with supplies of tomato juice, I have decided to stay with you while you finish the transformation and offer you my own blood."

"It's...not done...?" You did your best to speak, but thankfully your thirst was more quenched due to the juice Lilia gave you before. It did still hurt to speak a bit, however.

"Apparently not. I believe he said your organs are still changing, and your mind is losing its humanity and temporarily reverting to a more primal state. You are dangerous while you're like this, hence one reason why I offered to watch you."

You understood what he was saying, you really did, but Great Seven, was his scent was so intoxicating.

"C-Can I...just one...just a bite..." You were practically drooling with the desire to taste him, the desire to sink your teeth into his pale skin and stain the area red.

"One bite," he answered with no hesitation, "but if I say that's enough, you stop."

You nodded eagerly, just excited that he allowed you this.

He released your wrists, trusting you not to act out, to which you laid there, patiently waiting, staring. Malleus removed the decorative piece from his neck, exposing the pale skin. You shot up, but he kept you back with one hand. There were no words from him, just a glare that he gave you that actually sent chills down your back. It was like your urges were nearly halted just by his body language alone. He appeared large, dominant, and--if there was one thought that managed to sneak through your clouded mind--attractive.

"You will be patient, understand?"

Great Seven...

You nodded, now resting yourself back on your forearms as he continued to fix up the area, removing his coat to work around shirt collar and moving it further to the side so the spot of his neck. Your fingernails, turned tallons, clawed at the bedding below you, your body aching to strike. Malleus moved his hair to the side, and, after gazing at you, he nodded, allowing permission to drink.

You didn't think. You rose up wiggling yourself from between his legs and grasping him, nails digging into his clothes as you sunk your fangs in. Malleus let out a pained gasp, his own body now shuddering. You both held tightly onto each other: you to keep Malleus close, and Malleus due to the pain he felt.

Though one thing was for certain, you both felt a sense of bliss.

Malleus wasn't sure why, but to have you on him like this, well...he would dare say this felt exhilarating. You would say his blood was divine now that you've gotten a taste of him.

The two of you fell back into the bed, you on top of Malleus with one of your legs precariously placed between the prince's legs. Scrunching up to feel even closer to him caused your leg to press up against his groin, earning you a soft moan and, strangely, a change in the taste of his blood.

Though you wouldn't get to pinpoint it as Malleus practically ripped you off of him, gazing up at you with blown eyes. You looked down at him with equally blown eyes, both of you panting softly from the event. One thing was for certain...

You both needed each other now.

You two fell into a heated kiss despite the blood on your lips. Malleus didn't seem to care as long as he had you on him. You tore at his belt as he grasped at yours, unhooking it and practically tearing the zipper off. He pushed both that and your boxers down, to which you stopped your actions to fully remove your bottoms. You were quick to return to your task, digging around to spring Malleus's cock from its fabric prison.

You didn't want to wait any longer, and frankly, neither did Malleus.

The two of you got in position, you straddling Malleus as he positioned his cock. You lowered the same time he started to move up, and insertion was made. Malleus was quick to begin thrusting while you lightly bounced your hips against him, arching your back as he hit all your deepest spots.

"M-Malleus~!"

Once he hit that special spot, you hunched back over with a gasp, planting a heated kiss on his lips before diving back in on the bite you had left. Luckily for you, Malleus didn't seem too fazed by this.

You finally got to taste that change. He tasted sweet, almost flower-like, though there was some bitterness to it, a fermented fruity bitterness. It was intoxicating, like a wine.

"(Y-Y/N)...~" Malleus breathed, tugging on your hair as his thrusts never ceased. "Th-That's enough."

The tugging of your hair sent shivers down your body, your head following his motion as you moaned by his ear, filling him with a rush of energy. He flipped the two of you over, pinning your wrists as he let all of his desires out. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with both of your moans. A heat curled in your stomach, your legs trembling as you neared your climax.

"M-Malleus~! G-Gonna...I-I'm gonna--~!"

One final buried thrust was all you needed as he stuffed his cock deep in you, releasing his hot seed as you shot out hot streams between the two of you, dirtying your shirts. Your legs trembled visibly, jerking on occassion as you panted heavily.

Malleus carefully moved some hair from your face, his own body trembling as he let out his own, spent panting. His lips moved, but you couldn't make out any sound. You had expanded too much energy since the transformation, and doing so had caused you to pass out once more. Malleus watched as your eyes closed, chuckling softly as he cleared the blood from your lips with a thumb.

"Don't worry. I've got you, love."

#kaisers house of desires #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #male reader #x male smut #twisted wonderland #malleus x y/n #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus twst #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus

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shilohgreywrites · 7 months ago

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Kinktober Halsin/ reader

This is my first fanfic smut and honestly, this is pretty tame for me.

MDNI you will get blocked!!

Synopsis: You and Halsin finally get to know each other better.

Word Count: 735

Intended for female readers. If you do enjoy this please reblog, it means a lot!

----------------------------- Halsin -----------------------------------

Last night's sleep was almost nonexistent. Your mind wandered back to just earlier when your eyes locked with his. It was for only a sliver of a moment, but it sent chills down your spine. You are now finding it harder to sleep than the nights past.

You sit up, noticing a sound coming from a nearby bush. You can see it moving as leaves fall from either side. Curiosity gets the best of you because before you even think about the danger it can pose, you are up, stalking your way toward the bush. What you find startles you. Sitting there in all his glory, you find Halsin tossing and turning against a bush in bear form. You look at him with soft eyes, wondering why he was there to be with you. You want to comfort him, but you are afraid you will startle him awake. You watch him momentarily before conceding to the need to run your hands through his thick fur. It is only a second before his eyes turn light brown and he stares at you. Without a moment's notice, he transforms back to his human self. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” You step back, giving him space but he follows closely in front of you. “It’s—fine. I must have fallen asleep. Not my intention but I couldn’t rest and this is my usual spot to unwind.” You look at him in disbelief for a moment. Although you haven’t been in the grove for long, you realize that this is the first time you've seen him here. “Never mind that you were tossing and turning— I was just trying to comfort you…” Halsin’s eyes flicker before he turns away, his cheeks growing visibly red. “A dream— it was making me restless. I apologize if I disturbed you.” “No need to apologize. I wasn’t resting much either. So much on my mind after all. You go closer to him as if to walk past but you quickly find yourself stopped. “You also—couldn’t sleep?” He cups your face in his massive hands, looking from eye to eye as if searching for the reason without words. “No— I suppose the day has stayed with me and sleep is eluding me.” You grab his hand, staring back into his eyes. “You were all I could think of.” You feel his hand tighten around your chin as his breath hitches for a moment. “You don’t understand how glad I am to hear that. I—couldn’t—wouldn’t be able to sleep if I hadn’t gotten the chance to look you in the eyes and tell you how I felt.” He shifts his weight, pushing you gently against the tree. Using his index finger, her lifts your chin until your eyes meet. He is so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your forehead. “You are someone I have longed for long after you have left. I did realize that I could feel this way about anyone, but when I look at you, it feels natural.” Halsin pulls you in closer, whispering against your lips. “It has been hard for me to contain myself around you.” His breath becomes heavy as his lips quiver against yours. “You are the fountain I wish to drink from until I am quenched. But I will only taste you if you’ll have me.” You bit your lip as you felt the heat rise off your skin. You push yourself into him, taking his lips into yours. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Halsin.” Halsin lets out a low growl as he whisps you off your feet and into your arms. He violently kisses you all over as if to consume you in your entirety. You relish in the feelings of bliss as he positions you on your feet while undressing you. He is gentle but aggressive. “I want you to take this off—now.” He growls low as he forces himself back, undressing as he watches you. Once your final garment is removed, he hoists you up, taking your round nipple into his mouth and letting his tongue roll over it. You let out small gasps. Before you know it, you feel his length parting and entering you. Waves of passion overtake you both, and for the rest of the night, you roll around amongst nature as Oak Father intended.

read more here

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evolnoomym · 10 months ago

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Heart to Heart 🤎

Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: Joel and you are out on a ride on a little Autumn Date.

Word count: 755

Warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, post outbreak, reader has no name only a nickname, size difference, one Sarah mention, Ellie is mentioned too, fluff, undefined age gap, possibly hints to something not so good(let’s see if you catch it)

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: this is for @studioghibelli ‘s Writing Challenge. Shoutout to her she created the moodboard, it’s sooooo beautiful. 🫶🏻

Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the dividers 🤎

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 🫶🏻

Song’s I listened to while writing:

Second Hand Lovers - Oren Lavie

The Whisp Sings - Winter Aid

everything I wanted - Billie Eilish

Dark Red - Steve Lacy

Paris, Texas - Lana Del Rey, SYML

Champagne Coast - Blood Orange

What A Heavenly Way To Die - Troye Sivian

What A Wonderful World - Soap&Skin

Goodbye - Apparat

Moonlight on the River - Mac DeMarco

Tumbledown - Hayley Ross

It’s a beautiful day to ride out for a Date with the one and only Joel Miller. It’s late September when the leaves are turning into a sea of yellow, orange and red specks. The temperatures gradually decrease until one day they completely drop. You’re excited for the first winter you’ll experience in Jackson.

Joel has been your boyfriend for about 6 months.

And ever since he asked you to be his, he tries to take you out for a little Date every other week where it’s just you two without any distractions.

Joel is sitting behind you this time, usually he’s in the front. He’s better at horse riding than you. He knows his horse blue obviously better than you do, still you wanted to have the rains this time.

You love feeling him so close behind you, a big solid warm wall of a man, your man.

One of his arms is curled around your waist, hand resting on your belly and the other arm is placed on your thigh with his hand gripping your inner thigh.

After riding for about an hour you approach the big open field and tell Joel you want to get off.

Of course the gentleman that he is he helps you down which is probably not a good idea with his bad back. That’s nothing to stop him though.

Once you’re standing on your own two feet you lean up to peck him on one of his scruffy cheeks “Thank you cowboy” and then you tip your imaginary Stetson towards him giggling sweetly.

Joel is used to your shenanigans at this point. “Ya lucky I think ur cute, Sunny girl.” He smiles but then it turns into something more sorrowful “Sa…- Sarah would’ve loved ya Darlin.” You know how hard it still is to talk about her “Why’s that?”

“Cuz ya so incredibly kind, gentle, humorous and fearless. Jus like she was.”

“I’m not fearless Joel, I’m afraid all the time. Most of all about what I would do without you. I’d lose myself.”

“Don’t worry bout that baby I’m not gonna ever leave ya alone. I promise.” He holds up his little pinky and you intertwine yours with his. Smiling at each other.

It’s moments like this where you realize how much you love Joel Miller. You love his dark brown eyes, his equally dark brown hair streaked with greys, the curve of his prominent nose and his strong jaw that’s sparsely covered in salt-pepper scruff.

His broad frame makes him seem unbreakable as does his normally so grumpy attitude towards anyone, but you know he is way more than this. For you and Ellie he tries to let his walls down.

You grab his hand and tug him forwards so you can walk across the field with blue on his side going along with you two.

The field is your favorite place to go to and even though it might not be the safest since it’s such an open spot, it’s the prettiest scenery you’ve ever come across. Beyond the field the woods start again and in the far distance you can see the mountains.

You turn to Joel “You think maybe there’s a lodge somewhere up in the mountains?”

He thinks about it for a moment and then responds “Yeah maybe, why ya askin?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know maybe if there’s one we could go there in winter as a lil family trip with Ellie.”

Joel smiles “s’ a nice idea Sunny. When we’re back in Jackson, I’ll ask Tommy to go look with me. Ya gonna get the lodge of your dream Baby.” With that he pulls you close to his chest and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Once you’ve crossed the field you turn around to take a look at the stunning sunset.

You tug at Joel’s jacket to get him to notice

“Joel, look at how majestic the sunset is.”

He turns and gently laughs and you look at him confused.

“What?”

“Sunny, the sunsets, they ain’t got nothing on you. Ya the prettiest thing in this world.

Cheesy old men you think to yourself.

“I love you Joel.”

“I love you too Baby.”

3 months later…..

Kneeling in the snow, all you can think about is how much you wish to rewind time and stop yourself from ever telling Joel about finding that stupid lodge. The bitter reality is, you cannot do anything you have to live with the consequences of your actions.

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

Npt: @studioghibelli @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @almostfoxglove @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @the-mandawhor1an @joelalorian @ace-turned-confused @clawdee @penvisions (honestly I’m pretty randomly tagging sorry) 🤎

#joel miller #joel tlou #jackson!joel #tlou part 2 #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #studioghibelliswritingchallenge #pedro pascal characters #My writing #Mina’s writing

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bakerstreethound · 11 months ago

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Weariness & Passion

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x gender neutral reader

Warnings: self-worth issues, soft kisses, random poems spewed, slight allusions to not wanting to live, and chaotic brain

Summary: Sherlock comforts you after a rough day and you want nothing more than to be near him, holding him close and kissing him.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username)

Word Count: 570

A/N: Hello lovelies. I am back again after some months. I hope you enjoy this little story I managed to jot down in another frenzy of articulating my thoughts. I miss this detective so much and his kisses would be so healing. Please enjoy! Graphic by @firefly-graphics Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

You pull Sherlock in by the lapels of his suit jacket and kiss him gently and he pulls you closer up against him, making you gasp just a bit and he drags his tongue along your lower lip. You deepen the kiss, his hands grip around you tightening, a hand stroking your lower back, causing shivers to follow in their wake.

“Am I too much to love?”

“No. Because you believe you’re a monster does not mean it is true”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, my love.”

You kiss him harder, determined to push away the traitorous voices in your head, the ones telling you that you are undeserving of this affection, undeserving of such gentle true words.

Unworthy of him.

You want to light a match, let it burn this fire inside you, wrought with passion or shame you can't decipher. You’re tired of wanting to breathe in sharp cold air into your lungs. You’re surprised anything comes of it, heart holding fast to your failings, the reading and writing you never got around to, wasting more than enough time that could have been put towards other endeavors.

Worry not for I am here to help you, hold you, and ensure you worry not. What would you give to me that I don’t already have? My blood runs to hear those screams, the nightmares beholden unto you and me. The ones I never told you or don’t think I’ll have the strength to do so.

You want to continue, forgo the chaos in your mind but it is so much easier to spiral these days, even when you’re in the arms of your beloved Sherlock. He holds you fiercely, sensing the change of tone in the air, the way you look at him.

He knows you’re feeling inexplicably guilty for this invisible thread wrapped around you tight choking you on the weight of your sins. Sins that never happened, conjured in the future you are not living in but created from the boulders settling heavily in your mind.

He strokes your back, a small reminder to ground yourself. You breathe in the scent of him along his neck, the scent of home familiar and warm, welcoming you home on even the heaviest and drieriest days. Your heart slows down, shoulders relaxing, tension easing from your body into whisps of air, to be carried home back to the storm clouds from whence they came.

You pull Sherlock in for another kiss, losing count not caring you need to lean on him in this moment and for longer. He obliges, his arms safe and warm around you as he bends down to carry you to your shared room.

Your chest twinges at the feeling, trying not to feel like a burden but you know if you say anything he will deny such a claim. That is a claim from your anxious mind.

You deserve all the good things in this world despite what your mind spews at you, rearing its head in ugly moments such as this when all you want is to be welcomed in peace and tranquility.

It will always be there lingering but you can choose to ignore it. Which you do as Sherlock tucks you in bed with your favorite blanket before curling up next to you.

You are fine all is well, and you are not too much to love.

You can make it one day more.

******

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfic #bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock tv #my writing #my alleyway

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bwabys-scenarios · 1 year ago

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Kurama NSFW Alphabet

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: breeding, reader is called princess/angel, fem!reader, creampie, period sex mention, biting/scratching

A/N: REQUESTS OPEN! I’m reviving the Yu Yu Hakusho fandom, please send in Hiei and Kurama requests 😭🙏❤️

YYH taglist:

If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

After sex he’s quite tired, and he enjoys some soft cuddling before napping. He likes to bring a snack and drink to the room before you have sex, so if you need something after he can easily get it for you!

He’s also 100% up for a nice warm, relaxing bath afterwards where he gets to wash and caress you!

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

His favorite body part is his hair! He loves when you lovingly run your fingers through it, or when you give it a gentle tug when he’s got you under her. Kurama enjoys taking baths with you and asking you to wash his hair. You’re so tender with him, it just makes the red head fall in love even harder with you.

His favorite part of you is your tummy. He enjoys resting his head on it when he’s tired, or putting his hand over your soft flesh while he fucks into you, saying how he’s going to give you a baby <3

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He prefers staying clean and doesn’t want to get you all messy either, so he ends up cumming inside of you most of the time! Kurama has a bit of breeding kink to, which only adds onto this.

He cums a decent amount, about 3-5 creampies is enough to fill you up perfectly. Though… he likes to stuff you full.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a few…

First, he goes crazy for your scent. He’s a bit ashamed of it, but he’s constantly pulling you in for hugs, just to smell you, especially during breeding season. He can’t get enough, sometimes all it takes is a whiff of you and he’s hard.

Second off, he is VERY interested in period sex. He already goes insane when you ovulate, but so far he hasn’t touch you when you’re on your period. He really wants to ask, he would love to eat you out!

He desperately wants to cover you in hickeys and love bites. He’d love to each you out and suck and bite on the fat of your thighs until they’re completely covered in his love bites…

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

When he was a demon, Kurama had his fair share of experiences with other demon women. He never had sex with someone he loved, just little flings to satisfy his urges.

As a human, Kurama is technically a virgin, and his human body is a lot more difficult to navigate. He’s surprisingly sensitive, easily aroused and easy to bring to an orgasm.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary and doggy are the two positions he takes you in the mostly though missionary is the more common one. He only does doggy when he’s desperate/needy and needs to fuck right then and there.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s pretty serious, but sharing a few laughs and smiling is commonplace. Kurama enjoys holding you close to him, talking you through it and giving you kisses, so if a few giggles slip through your slips he won’t mind.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps himself well trimmed, also yes it’s red! It’s very soft, just like his hair.

1= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s very romantic, and enjoys taking his time with you. Kurama is often very busy with helping Yusuke with detective work, so when he’s not doing that, he tries his best to make every love making session sweet and intimate.

It’s the little things, like holding your hand and kissing your forehead while he thrusts into you, whispering soft words of love and adoration in your ear when he leans down close.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Kurama found out just how sensitive his human body was the moment he saw you. He’d never had much interest in girls, especially human ones, but felt his cock go hard the second you smiled so sweetly at him.

He had jerked off a few times before after getting morning wood, but this time he found himself imagining your hand slowly pumping his length, not his.

After that, he jerked off regularly, and once you two got together, he didn’t need to as often, because you let him fuck you when he’s horny instead <3

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation

Breeding

Period Sex

Lactation

Cockwarming

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Depending on the season, he’ll either only have sex with you in the bedroom, or he’ll fuck you anywhere. If he’s in rut… lord help your coochie 🙏💔

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’s very scent based, so if he gets a good whiff of your smell he becomes very happy/relaxed, but it can also make his dick hard within seconds.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He will never EVER hurt you during sex, it’s a big no no. And something he wouldn’t like done to him is being choked or slapped. He’s a very gentle and sweet lover, and he wants the same from you!

0 = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh my god, let’s just say he remembers a thing or two from his demon days. When his face is between your legs you’ll be having a great time.

That is to say, he much prefers eating you out than you sucking him off. Your taste, the way you moan his name and whimper out little pleas for him to keep going makes him go CRAZY.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual etc.)

Oh he’s usually very slow and sensual. Like I said earlier, he prefers to take his time with you and show you how much he cares about and loves you.

Although if it’s during breeding season, all of that goes out the window and the only thing he’s thinking about is how much cum he can stuff into your pretty pussy before it starts spilling out of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not a big fan of quickies, again, he prefers to take his time with you. The only quickies he has are ones to satisfy you when you’re needy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t take risks with his precious angel, no way. If he wants to try something new, he always asks you first and makes sure it’s okay. Your comfort is very important to him, because to him making love is almost like a trust exercise. You’re trusting him with your body, he would never break it.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This guy can last as long as you want him to. He’s a complete gentleman, so when you get tired he’ll pull out and start aftercare.

Though, again, going into rut makes him a lot more ravenous. He can last several hours, until your leaking his cum onto the bed.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own any toys, and honestly he’s not interested in them for himself at all. He also doesn’t LOVE the thought of you having them, as he thinks he may not be pleasing you enough. With some reassurance that sometimes you need alone time or it’s to tide you over while he’s gone, he’ll come around and understand. He won’t tell you not to use them, as it’s your body, but he may be a little jealous or not understand them completely without an explanation.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not a huge tease, but he does like getting you all worked up, especially when you’ve been a bit of a brat lately.

He’ll hold you in his lap, lightly tapping his finger against your panties while you squirm and beg him to touch you. “Can’t you cum with this? Such a needy little princess, perhaps I’ve been spoiling you too much.”

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not very loud, but you’ve known you’ve done something good when he groans softly, looking down at you with those emerald eyes while he calls you a good girl~

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

To learn more about human sex, he watched a lot of porn and did a lot of research. He got caught doing this not once, but multiple times by Yusuke. It wasn’t easy trying to explain that he wasn’t getting off to it, just trying to study so he could make you happy, but Yusuke still teases him for it even years later.

X= X-ray (let's see what's going on under those clothes)

Kurama is 6.5 inches long and pretty girthy. During the mating season he takes on a more animalistic appearance, his cock changing the most. He’s able to knot you, which he does QUITE a bit during this time.

He wears boxers, they’re usually navy blue or light grey.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I think it’s about medium sized. He definitely yearns for you, especially when he’s away for longer periods of time, but he can usually just look at naughty pictures and videos you’ve sent him to get him through tough times. When he finally gets home, he’ll take you out to dinner then fuck you like he hasn’t seen you in years when you get home(he’s literally only been gone a week).

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep a few minutes after the final creampie! He makes sure to take care of you first if you need anything, because although he would never want to intentionally hurt you, he does end up scratching and/or biting you a bit too hard sometimes.

Kurama makes sure all of your needs are met before he pulls you in for kisses and cuddles!

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kckt88 · 1 year ago

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The Lost Dragon XII - Revelations.

Summary:

Rhaenyra summons Aemond to Kings Landing.

*Features an Aemond POV*

Warning(s): Secret Reveal, Language, Anger, Threats to 'Burn down Kings Landing', Breaking Glass/Throwing Things, Prophecy, Vulnerability, Uncle/Niece Incest.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: 3786

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

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As they landed within the castle walls, Aemond couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and disbelief wash over him. His eyes were fixed on Vaelys as she gracefully dismounted Vermithor. Aemond stood transfixed, watching her stroke the bronze dragon's scales with a gentle hand, a look of pride on her face.

But alongside that awe, a pang of guilt stabbed at his heart. It was he who had been responsible for the death of Archonei. His control over Vhagar had failed and Vaelys had lost her cradle mate as a result and for a while he thought he hated Vhagar for what she’d done, but in truth it was himself that he hated.

He was responsible, had he not chased Vaelys through the skies then Vhagar wouldn’t have had the opportunity to kill Archonei.

But if Vhagar didn’t kill Archonei, then he wouldn’t have brought Vaelys to Kings Landing and the outcome of the war would be very different.

He wouldn’t have his wife and he certainly wouldn’t have his children.

The two years he spent in exile had allowed his bond with Vhagar to grow stronger, he’d never been across the narrow sea before, and he had to trust that she would keep him safe.

They spent weeks exploring, from flying over the ruins of old Valyria, and the red waste lands near Qarth to the grass lands of the Dothraki sea before finally settling in Volantis.

Of course, the money he’d taken with him didn’t last for the entirety of his stay, and sometimes Vhagar would be too lazy to hunt for herself, so he would have to pay for livestock.

Due to it’s location, Volantis was at risk of raids and Aemond was more than happy to help defend the city in exchange for funds, the Volantene agreed and were more than happy to host a Prince and his dragon-plus it didn’t hurt to mention that he was married to the future Queen of Westeros, of course the Volantene didn’t need to know the whole story surrounding his exile and they certainly didn’t need to know about Aemond’s fears of being set aside by Vaelys upon his return.

His fears of course were unfounded, and his wife was waiting for him on the beach of Dragonstone.

She was so beautiful, her silver hair longer than it been before, tied in a simple braid, the loose whisps fluttering in the sea breeze, her lips curved into a smile and her amethyst eyes shinning with tears, as she gazed upon him.

Never had anyone looked at him like that, like he was the only person in the world.

He spent the night fucking her into the mattress, over and over again. Gods his sexual appetite was ravenous-two years with nothing but his fist, of course many whores had tried their luck with him, but he’d declined every single one of them.

The thought of sticking his cock in a woman that wasn’t his wife made his stomach turn.

Of course, there was one woman, but she was never anything more to him than a friend. At first he had found her interesting, given her area of expertise, and her ability to see things in the flames, but what she had shown him, had terrified him.

As he laid entwined with his wife, he’d told her everything-well almost everything as that would no doubt come later.

As much as he wanted to tell Rhaenyra to stick her summons up her arse, he knew he couldn’t. Out loud anyway.

It was inevitable really, he knew he wouldn’t be able to return and not have her stick her nose in, not even two days and the raven arrived.

Can’t a man spend time with his children and fuck his wife in peace.

Speaking of fucking – his wife had looked truly delicious that morning and just before they were due to fly to Kings Landing, he bent her over the desk in their chambers and stuck his cock in her.

His request to her afterwards had been absolutely depraved.

"Do not clean yourself issa zaldrīzes, I want you to put your small clothes back on so that you feel my seed against you all day-only tonight will I permit you to clean yourself, after I've filled you up again" (My dragon).

But it definitely gave Aemond a twisted sense of satisfaction, that they would be in a meeting with the Queen, and his seed would be inside Vaelys.

Of course, he didn’t miss the look of hurt that flashed across his wife’s face when he asked her drink moontea.

He quickly explained that he wanted to enjoy being home first, being with her and the children, and getting to know Daevyn properly before he puts another babe inside her.

But he did insist that it wouldn’t be long before he desired to see her belly swollen with his seed again.

Fuck, he was getting hard again at the very thought, perhaps if they had time, they could sneak into one of the alcoves or even their old chambers.

But the approaching clatter of armour distracted him and sure enough two guards emerged clad in the red and black of House Targaryen. Their armour gleaming in the light.

"Princess Vaelys, Prince Aemond” one of the guards addressed them respectfully, bowing low before gesturing for them to follow. "The Queen awaits you in the council chambers."

As Vaelys and Aemond entered the council chambers, they were met with some members of the council. Queen Rhaenyra sat upon the high seat at the head of the table, her silver hair cascading down her back, her violet eyes sharp and commanding. Beside her stood Daemon, his features masked in a stoic expression.

Jace, was also present, seated nearby with his wife Lady Baela. Jace's demeanour was composed, but there was a hint of tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the weighty matters that were to be discussed.

At the far end of the table sat Corlys Velaryon, and his wife Rhaenys Targaryen, who served as the Hand of the Queen. Corlys' silver hair was swept back from his face, his gaze sharp and assessing, while Rhaenys sat with an air of authority, her posture straight and unwavering.

As Vaelys and Aemond approached the table, the members of the council rose to greet them, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern. Queen Rhaenyra's voice cut through the silence, her tone commanding yet tinged with warmth.

"Welcome, back brother," she said, her voice echoing in the chamber. "We have much to discuss, but first, take a seat��.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Vaelys and Aemond took their places at the table.

“So how are you finding your return to Westeros?"

Aemond scoffed lightly, “It's only been two days," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "I've spent most of it with my children and in bed with my wife, making up for lost time"

As Aemond's jest echoed through the council chambers, a slight scowl marred the features of Jace. His brows furrowed in disapproval as he shot a sharp glance in Aemond's direction, his expression betraying a hint of annoyance at the cavalier remark.

Aemond, ever quick to notice the reactions of those around him, caught sight of Jace's disapproving glare and couldn't resist a smirk. His lips curled upward in amusement, a glint of mischief dancing in his eye as he met Jace's gaze head-on.

Rhaenyra turned her attention to her daughter, her gaze softening with maternal affection. "Vaelys, I was hoping you'd bring the children with you," she remarked, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Before Vaelys could respond, Aemond interjected with a hint of brusqueness in his tone. "My sister Helaena is looking after them," he stated bluntly, his words carrying a note of dismissal.

Rhaenyra's expression faltered briefly, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features at Aemond's curt reply.

Vaelys, sensing the tension in the air, placed a reassuring hand on her mother's arm. "I'm sorry, Mother," she said softly, casting a pointed glance at her husband. "Aemond thought it best they remain with Helaena for the time being."

"How was your time across the narrow sea?"

Aemond's response was sharp, his tone laced with a hint of accusation. "Why ask me a question that you already know the answer to-or did your little spies not tell you, sister?" he retorted, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Vaelys, sensing the tension in the air, turned to her mother with a furrowed brow. "Mother, what is he talking about? What spies?" she demanded, her voice edged with frustration.

Rhaenyra's gaze flickered for a moment, a hint of uncertainty crossing her features before she quickly composed herself. But Vaelys could see the slight tremor in her mother's hands, the subtle tightening of her jaw.

"Vaelys, it's nothing," Rhaenyra replied, her voice strained. "Just a misunderstanding."

But Vaelys wasn't satisfied with her mother's vague response. Anger simmered beneath the surface as she pressed for answers. "Nothing? It doesn't seem like nothing," she countered, her voice rising with frustration. "What spies, Mother?"

Daemon, ever the voice of reason, stepped forward, his expression grave. "I'm afraid it's true, Vaelys," he admitted reluctantly. "We had our agents keep an eye on Aemond during his time across the Narrow Sea. It was a precautionary measure, given the circumstances."

Vaelys' eyes widened in disbelief at her father's revelation. "What circumstances?" she repeated, her voice tinged with incredulity and growing concern.

Daemon's gaze softened as he met his daughter's questioning stare. "We had to make sure that wherever Aemond ended up, he didn't organize a coup with one of the Free Cities," he explained, his voice grave. "There were concerns that he might seek support to send soldiers to invade and take over Westeros, backing a prince with royal blood and the largest dragon in the world."

The weight of Daemon's words hung heavily in the air, the implications sinking in with chilling clarity. Vaelys struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the situation, the thought of her own mother and father plotting.

"And we also had to make sure that he didn't pop up somewhere in Westeros, breaking his exile," Daemon continued, his tone sombre.

For a moment no one dared to speak. Jace clasped Baela’s hand in his and Corly exchanged a concerned look with Rhaenys.

Aemond's voice cut through the tense silence of the council chambers, his tone tinged with bitterness and resignation. "Basically, they don't trust me, and they never will," he declared, his words heavy with the weight of truth. "Doesn’t matter that she only has the throne because I killed my fucking brother”.

"All this time-you knew where he was, and you never told me," exclaimed Vaelys, her words tinged with disbelief.

The weight of the realization settled heavily upon her, a sense of betrayal gnawing at her heart. For two years, she had wondered about her husband's whereabouts, fearing the worst, while all along, her own family had kept the truth from her.

Rhaenyra's expression softened with regret as she met her daughter's anguished gaze. "Vaelys, I..." she began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words.

But Vaelys couldn't bear to hear any excuses or justifications. "How could you?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Then Daemon's words cut through the tense atmosphere of the council chambers like a knife, his tone laced with bitterness and accusation. "It is not only us that keep secrets from you," he remarked with a snide edge to his voice. "Why don’t you ask your husband about the woman in red whose company he frequently kept?"

Vaelys felt a surge of anger and betrayal rise within her at her father's insinuation. She knew exactly what he was accusing Aemond of, and the thought of her husband's potential infidelity filled her with a mixture of fury and hurt.

Vaelys then felt a seething rage boiling within her, an anger so potent that it rendered her speechless. The weight of betrayal and deceit hung heavy upon her shoulders, threatening to consume her from within. As her family's voices echoed around her in the council chambers, she found herself unable to utter a single word.

With a sense of numb detachment, Vaelys rose abruptly from her seat, the scraping of her chair against the floor the only sound she made. Ignoring the calls of her mother, the pleas of Aemond, she strode purposefully towards the exit, her footsteps echoing in the hushed silence of the chamber.

Her vision blurred with unshed tears, Vaelys pushed open the heavy doors of the council chambers, the cool air of the Red Keep's corridors washing over her like a wave. She quickened her pace, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the truth that had been laid bare before her.

As she climbed into the saddle, settling herself upon Vermithor's broad back, Vaelys felt a sense of familiarity wash over her. The connection between dragon and rider was a bond forged in fire and blood, unbreakable and unwavering.

Beside her, Aemond approached on Vhagar, his expression etched with concern as he climbed onto the back of his own dragon. He looked towards his wife, a silent plea for her to speak, to share the burden that weighed so heavily upon her.

But Vaelys remained silent, her gaze fixed forward as the dragons took to the sky, their powerful wings beating against the air. The wind rushed past them, carrying with it the echoes of their flight as they soared through the clouds.

For the entirety of the journey back to Dragonstone, Vaelys remained lost in her own thoughts, her silence a testament to the depth of her anger and hurt.

Hours later and Vermithor and Vhagar were descending onto the shores of Dragonstone, the dragons' mighty wings beat against the air, creating a gust that stirred the sands below. Vaelys remained stoic in the saddle of Vermithor, her expression unreadable as she dismounted in silence.

Aemond, his brow furrowed with concern, followed suit, dismounting from Vhagar's back and landing lightly on the ground. He glanced at his wife, searching her face for any sign of emotion, but she remained as impassive as the stone walls of Dragonstone itself.

With a heavy heart, Aemond watched as Vaelys wordlessly turned away from him, striding purposefully towards the towering gates of Dragonstone's castle. He hurried to catch up with her, his footsteps echoing in the empty courtyard.

"Vaelys, please," he called out softly, his voice tinged with desperation. "Talk to me. "

But Vaelys remained silent, her eyes fixed straight ahead as she pushed open the heavy gates and disappeared into the depths of the castle.

As Aemond followed Vaelys into their chambers, the heavy silence weighed upon them like a suffocating blanket. He watched in growing concern as she moved with purpose, her movements tense and erratic.

Suddenly, without warning, Vaelys erupted into a frenzy of rage. She seized whatever objects lay within her reach and hurled them across the room with a force that startled Aemond. Books, vases, even small pieces of furniture became projectiles in her tempestuous storm.

Aemond stood frozen in place, his eyes wide with shock as he witnessed his wife's unbridled fury. He had never seen her like this before, consumed by such raw emotion that she seemed almost unrecognizable.

"Vaelys, stop!" he called out, his voice filled with urgency, but she paid him no heed. Her rage burned bright and fierce, an inferno consuming everything in its path.

Desperate to calm her, Aemond approached slowly, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Please, Vaelys," he pleaded, his voice soft and soothing.

But Vaelys continued her rampage, her eyes blazing with a fire that refused to be quenched. In that moment, she seemed untouchable, lost in the whirlwind of her own emotions.

As the chaos of Vaelys' fury raged around them, her voice pierced through the tumult with a raw, anguished cry. "It was in that bed—where I struggled to birth our son," she screamed, her words laced with pain and accusation. "The blood, the pain-I thought I was going to die. I called for you-I kept calling for you and you didn't come."

Her voice cracked with emotion as she continued, her words carrying the weight of years of unspoken anguish. "But she was there, holding my hand, listening to me weep for you. And all this time, she knew where you were."

Vaelys' words rang out like a fiery proclamation, her voice filled with a ferocity that sent shivers down Aemond's spine. "I'll go back there and burn it down!" she shouted, her tone laced with determination and rage.

But before she could make a move to leave, Aemond acted swiftly, wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her back into the room. "Not so fast," he interjected firmly, his voice commanding.

Vaelys struggled against his hold, her desperation evident as she fought to break free. "No, Aemond, let me go! I'm going to burn them all," she cried out, her eyes flashing with a mad glint.

Aemond held her tightly, refusing to let her slip away into the darkness of her own fury. "Vaelys, listen to me," he urged, his voice gentle yet firm. "Burning things down won't solve anything”.

"No, it will solve everything," argued Vaelys vehemently, her words dripping with contempt. "Because then I'll be free of the lying cunts!"

Her eyes blazed with an intensity that matched the flames she longed to unleash upon those who had betrayed her trust. Each syllable carried the weight of her righteous fury, a testament to the depth of her pain and the magnitude of her anger.

Aemond tightened his embrace, his heart aching with the realization of the depth of her anguish. "Vaelys, I understand your anger," he said softly, his voice pleading. "But vengeance will only lead to more suffering."

But Vaelys shook her head defiantly, her gaze unwavering. "No, Aemond," she insisted, her voice unwavering. "This is justice. They deserve to feel the same pain they inflicted upon me."

Aemond's heart sank as he realized the depth of his wife's despair, the darkness that threatened to consume her from within. He knew that he couldn't let her succumb to the lure of vengeance, no matter how justified it may seem in the heat of the moment.

"You asked for me," said Aemond, his voice heavy with regret. "Had I known, I would have come. Rhaenyra would have had me executed for it, but I would have broken my exile-for you."

Vaelys felt a surge of emotion welling within her, the anger and resentment that had consumed her gradually beginning to ebb away. She stopped struggling against Aemond's embrace, her body relaxing as she listened to his heartfelt confession.

“Aemond I-“ whispered Vaelys.

"For the two years I was in exile-I felt dead inside. I had no idea that someone could exist with their heart outside of their body."

"I felt the same way-every day I would look across the narrow sea and wonder if you was on the other side looking back" replied Vaelys.

"I was-I was always looking" said Aemond.

Despite the surge in her chest at Aemonds admittence, she had to know.

"What about the red woman?" asked Vaelys softly, her voice hesitant.

Aemond's expression softened, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he considered how to respond. "She was a High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis," he explained, his tone tinged with resignation. "She could see visions in the flames."

He paused; his gaze distant as memories of his time in exile flooded back to him. "I kept her company because-I was intrigued by the Lord of Light," he admitted, his voice trailing off.

"What did she see in the flames?" asked Vaelys, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Se bōsa bantis iksos māzis. Hen aōha ānogar māzigon se dārilaros bona istan kīvio, se zȳhon jāhor sagon se vāedar hen suvion se perzys” (The long night is coming. From your blood comes the princess that was promised, and hers will be the song of ice and fire).

“Dārilaros?” asked Vaelys (Princess).

“Daenerys jelmāzmo hen targārio lentrot” (Daenerys stormborn of House Targaryen).

“When?” asked Vaelys.

“Many years from now, our fifth great granddaughter will ascend the Iron Throne and unite the realm against the enemy in the North” replied Aemond.

“Did she show you anything else”.

For a moment Aemond seemed hesitant to answer, but then he took a deep breath and closed his eye.

“She showed me a future where it was Lucerys that went to Storms End instead and Vhagar killed him, the war happened and many more died-The greens and the blacks, we destroyed our house. My own death at the hands of your father, my only legacy was that of a kinslayer and my bastard son sired on a woods witch” muttered Aemond.

“W-What about me?” asked Vaelys.

“You were dead, I was the one who killed you” replied Aemond, tears running down his cheek.

“Oh Aemond” said Vaelys his words sending a chill down her spine.

"I-I want you to know that I would never hurt you. I’d rather cast myself into the depths of the seven hells before I raised a hand too you”.

Tears welled in her eyes as she reached for him, her fingers intertwining with his in a silent promise of devotion. "Aemond," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I trust you. And I love you."

Aemond leaned forward, his heart pounding with a mixture of longing and desperation. Without a word, he closed the distance between them, his lips meeting Vaelys' in a passionate kiss.

"Ever since the Red Woman showed me that vision of the future," Aemond lamented, his voice heavy with sorrow, "I didn't want to go to sleep."

He looked into Vaelys' eyes; his gaze haunted by the spectre of the nightmare that had plagued him. "I feared waking up in that terrible future, where you were gone-where I lived a life never experiencing your love."

His words hung in the air, a raw admission of the depths of his despair and longing. Aemond reached out to Vaelys, his hand trembling as it sought hers, desperate for the reassurance of her touch, almost afraid she would disappear.

Feeling the weight of his emotions pressing upon him, Aemond leaned forward again, his lips seeking hers in a tender and passionate kiss. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of their embrace and the softness of her lips against his.

As their kiss deepened, Aemond poured his heart into the gentle touch, seeking solace and connection in the midst of their shared vulnerability.

When they finally parted, Aemond rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the stillness of the chamber. He closed his eye, savouring the closeness they shared, grateful for the love that bound them together.

“Make love to me” whispered Aemond.

Vaelys met his gaze with a tender smile, her eyes filled with understanding and love. Without a word, she took him by the hand, leading him with gentle determination towards the bed.

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