#and mind you i would marry all of the above i love them all

[five-rivers]

Funeral

“I’m sorry,” said Danny, speaking to the headstone in lieu of anything else to talk to.  He certainly wasn’t going to speak to the empty and expectant grave a few feet away.  “I wanted to wait.  I want to wait.  It’s just–”  He cut himself off, curling his hands into fists.  “There are so many things I haven’t seen, haven’t done.  Jazz got married, you know?  She’s pregnant.  If I was– I could have–”

He fell silent and adjusted the collar of his overcoat, trying to keep the frigid Ghost Zone wind away from his currently human neck.  

“Sam and Tucker are thinking about getting married, now that we’ve all graduated,” he said softly.  “I would have liked to see that, too.  And have a career.  Travel.  I know you wanted to do that, too.  But–”  

He broke off as his voice pitched weirdly, too high, too loud.  Sparks jumped off his fists as his emotions rose.  He flickered in and out of sight and tangibility, and his skin started to–

With an effort, he wrenched himself back together.  

“I’m sorry,” he said again.  “This is why I have to go.  I’m too unstable, and it isn’t like you.  I’m not just a danger to myself.”

(A premonition: Disturbed soil, a hand reaching out, a solid body… but there was nothing there now.  The ground was troubled only by slowly growing grass.)

He turned away from Dani’s grave and walked back to the mortuary shrine.  

The wind kicked up again.  There was ice in it.  

A motto was carved above the threshold of the shrine.  It read, LET THE DEAD BURY THEIR OWN DEAD.  Appropriate.  No one fully living would be here tonight.  Sam, Tucker, and Jazz had all wanted to be, just like they had all wanted to be there for Dani, but there were rules about this kind of thing, old rules, and–

Ice feathered out from under his feet.  And it wouldn’t be safe for them.  

The mortuary shrine was cozy on the inside, not at all like a morgue, or an embalmer’s studio.  There were some similarities, overlaps in function, but the shrine was not organized with decaying fleshy bodies in mind.  The central altar, for example, was high off the ground, for ease of access by the celebrants, but it was soft, bed-like, for the sake of the one who’d lie there.  The other altars were filled with other things, like candles, foods, oils and wines, salt, cloth, books, and strange implements Danny couldn’t name.  All things needed for a burial.  

There was other furniture, too, and the associated accouterments.  Elegant ghost lanterns and a fireplace, burning with cold fire.  Lovely chairs and small tables carved from bright wood.  Plush footstools.  Tapestries and curtains, softening the stone walls.  

Three ghosts waited for him there, the proper number for a rite like this.  Frostbite, his horns only inches from the ceiling.  Pandora, who had taken a smaller form for the occasion.  Clockwork, who looked much the same as he always did, except that he wasn’t changing forms, instead wearing a guise of solid middle age.  

(Danny still had to look up at all of them.  He'd managed to catch up to Jazz, but he'd never reached his father's height.)

“You are ready,” said Clockwork.  

It wasn’t really a question, didn't necessarily call for a response, but Danny understood.  This was his last chance to back out without any more consequences than the ones he was currently experiencing.  

But those consequences were bad enough.  He shuddered as intangibility and invisibility rippled through him again, and he just barely kept a grip on his more destructive powers.  

“Yes,” said Danny.  He looked around the shrine, nervous.  He hadn't been here when Dani did this. He didn't know what came next.  Not in any detail.  “Should I change?”

“No,” said Pandora.  “Not unless you feel the need to.  The ritual will be a guide, as it was for your younger sister.”

“Then we shall begin,” said Clockwork.  

Danny nodded.  

Frostbite came forward fist, and leaned all the way down to kiss Danny’s forehead.  “You are dead, Great One, and we will remember you.”

He stepped back, and Pandora took his place.  “You are dead, little warrior, and we will send you on with honor.”  She pressed a kiss to his forehead as well.  

Then, Clockwork came up.  He looked down at Danny for longer than the other two.  “You are dead, Daniel, and the time comes for all the dead to be laid to rest.”

When Clockwork’s lips brushed against Danny’s forehead, he felt the first strands of the ritual wrap around him like silk.  Still thin and tenuous enough that he could break free, but not without damage to both the weaving and himself.  

Frostbite, meanwhile, had turned to one of the lesser altars.  There was a small teapot chilling there, above a braiser of cold fire.  Frostbite poured its contents into a large mug, then added three scoops of shimmery white powder, each from a different small pot, before stirring three times.  

He held the mug out to Danny.  “For your nerves.”

“Is this drugged?” asked Danny, taking the mug.  He kept his tone light.  Considering the parts of this Danny knew were going to happen, that was really the least of his worries.  

“Drugged and poisoned,” said Frostbite.  “We did research into the best way to ritually account for your continued life.  This is it.”

If Danny was younger, he’d ask if it was going to kill him.  He knew better, now, about how durable half-ghosts were.  Memories of long-ago history lessons, of trivia, of drugged drinks and gentle, honored deaths on cold mountains ghosted through Danny’s mind.  But those were children.  

He raised the mug to his lips and took a drink.  It tasted of chocolate, cream, and a bewildering array of spices and herbs, from capsaicin to vanilla to rosemary.  There was also a bitter undertaste, and Danny would have pulled away instinctively, but as soon as he’d started the reflexive motion, Frostbite put a friendly but firm hand on the back of his head, and another on the bottom of the mug, keeping it tilted back.  

(A premonition: Other hands hovered nearby, ready to assist if Danny resisted.  He could feel them.  One over his nose, another stroking his throat, taking advantage of the remaining reflexes of his human body.  But they weren’t there.  Not yet.)

The rites, now started, would not be so easily refused.  

Danny drank deeply, finding a strange sort of enjoyment in the extended physical contact.  He’d been avoiding touch ever since a nasty scare with his ice powers and Sam’s skin.  There had been close calls before that, too, with his newer, more esoteric powers, but until then…

Frostbite tilted Danny’s head all the way back, ensuring the last few drops of the drink fell past Danny’s lips, then pulled the mug away.  Danny licked his teeth and lips, and swallowed one more time.  He didn’t feel anything yet.  

“What next?” he asked, wincing at the edge of power behind the question.  He should probably just.  Not talk.  Especially not with drugs in his system.  

“After a death, the first step is to clean and prepare the body,” said Pandora.  

Of course.  Danny nodded.  The mortuary shrine… wobbled.  

Frostbite swept Danny up into his arms - which would have been more embarrassing if Frostbite wasn’t huge - and carried him to one of the lesser altars.  It was smooth-surfaced and the neighboring, even smaller altars had bars, bottles, jars, basins of water, and washcloths, all arranged to stand at precise angles from one another.  He was laid down on the altar, and Frostbite and Clockwork started to undress him.  

At first, Danny tried to help, peeling out of his overcoat and sweater quickly.  But then, his movements seemed to… blur.  His mind was still sharp, as far as he could tell, but his limbs were becoming clumsy, slow.  

It was Clockwork who untied his boots, and Frostbite who unbuttoned Danny’s shirt.  By the time they got to his underthings, it felt like there was a barrier between him and his body.  Not anything solid, he could still move, still react, but something muffling, slowing.  Frostbite laid him down so that he was flat on his back on the lesser altar.  Clockwork started going through Danny’s hand with a wet, lightly perfumed, comb.  Frostbite, meanwhile, took out a set of dentists tools and eased Danny’s jaw open with one claw.  

Across the room, at the main altar, Pandora laid layer after layer of cloth.  Some of them were patterned, others plain.  Some were thick with embroidery, others were gossamer thin.  Some were edged with beads or woven with gold, others looked tattered, as if they’d been previously used for something else, the scrupulously cleaned.  

Clockwork, done with Danny’s hair for the moment, moved on to his feet.  It was hard to describe the intimacy of being cleaned like this by someone else.  By someone he knew.  He wasn’t a patient, Clockwork wasn’t a nurse.  He wasn’t an infant, and Clockwork wasn’t his parent.  But this was an act of care and love, offered without judgment.  It was also embarrassingly efficient and thorough.  When a body was cleaned, prepared for internment, it wasn't just the normal surfaces that were cleaned, but areas generally considered private.  

As Clockwork moved upwards, the powers that churned along the surface of Danny’s skin quieted.  They did not go silent - they never did, these days - but they were no longer so maddeningly active.  

Finished with Danny's mouth (which now felt much more clean than it ever did after the dentist's) Frostbite moved on to his nails, clipping and cleaning them, smoothing rough edges and cuticles.  Danny tried to be helpful with this, to at least hold his hands in the right way, but the effects of the drugs were progressing.  His movements were slowing, growing smaller.  

He should be panicking.  The loss of control, at least, should bother him, given the constant vigilance his rapidly growing powerset required.  But, as a human, his emotions were still principally dependent on physical systems and chemical reactions.  His heartbeat was slow, and growing slower.  

They turned him over to work on his back, and Danny half-dozed, eyes barely open, as they diligently scrubbed him clean.  

Then, he was on his back again, anointed with oils and perfumes, smokes and incense wafted over him.  Something wet drew a line from his lips to his groin.  

Danny's heart twitched to a stop. 

Blue-white rings flared from his core in an instant, painfully arresting the moment of death, then swept out to Danny's extremities.  He flinched, twisting on the table, onto his side, suddenly able to move again.  Everything was too bright, too loud, too close, too present.  He covered his face with his arms.

The panic he’d missed earlier was in full force now, shining bright and pure and crystalline in the way only ghostly emotions could.  He was in danger.  He was dangerous.  He could feel his powers coiling, ready to strike, whether it be his will or against it.  He fought them, and paid the price, bones and skin going soft, their fine, detailed structures destabilizing, running like wax, like the flesh of a caterpillar in a cocoon.  

A hand scooped through his sticky, melting flesh and pressed a cool, hard, surface to his lips.  He drank.  It was the same thing Frostbite had given him before, but without the bitterness.  With every gulp, the ritual spun onwards, strands thickening, multiplying.  By the time he was finished drinking, his skin was sticky and damp, but solid again underneath that.  

“No poison this time?” he asked.

“Just because you cannot taste it does not mean it isn’t there,” said Frostbite.  “Do you know what separates a medicine from a poison?”

“Dosage?” hazarded Danny.  Jazz was an MD.  He’d picked up a few things.

All three of the older ghosts chuckled.  Frostbite went as far as to ruffle his hair.

“He does learn,” said Clockwork, unzipping Danny’s jumpsuit (it had grown with him) and gently pushing aside Danny’s hands when he moved to help.  

Whatever was in the second drink, if there was anything at all, it didn’t act nearly as quickly as the first.  He could feel so much more, his sense of touch unblunted.  It made the process of Frostbite, Clockwork, and Pandora undressing him all that much more, especially when they chided him (ever so gently) for trying to help them, for doing anything but lying there like a corpse.  

(Deja vu: Rituals as old as humanity, reaching back, reaching forward.  The preparation of the dead, laying them to rest.  The duty of the family, to clean and prepare, to stand watch, sit vigil, to March the wake, to mourn, to celebrate.  The dead did not move to help.  They did not move at all.)

They washed the spaces between his toes and fingers, his teeth, the backs of his eyelids, the insides of his ears, every nook and cranny they had cleaned when he was in human form was cleaned again.  The stickiness from his earlier destabilization was wiped away, replaced with a dry, fresh feeling.  Invisibility and intangibility stopped wisping across his skin, too tightly bound by the ritual to be used even by accident.  

The perfumes they used now were different, they tickled at his brain and core both, summoning feelings of nostalgia, regret, longing, grief, quiet, peace.  They traced symbols in them, in languages Danny didn’t know but could feel the meanings of, of linear past and spreading future, of the pinpoint present, of decay and rot, of the loosening of muscles, of the blurring of boundaries, of reconstruction, of change, of stability, of things remade, of things caught in time forever.  

Frostbite picked him up and brought him to the main altar.  It was soft, piled high with cloth.  They felt cool and silky on Danny’s bare skin and there was a pillow under his head.  Absently, he ran his palm back and forth across the top cloth.  Or, no, not quite the top one.  The main one he was touching was large, large enough to hang off the altar and pool on the ground, but there was a smaller strip of embroidered cloth, almost like a long belt or ribbon, at the height of his biceps.  

There was, he noted, another such ribbon under his ankles, and another under his knees.  He wondered what they were for.  

He didn’t have to wonder for long.  Clockwork picked up the long ends of the ribbon and wound it around his ankles in a complicated fashion.  The twists and turns showed off the intricacy of the abstract embroidery.  He finished it off with a knot that disappeared under the rest of the ribbon.  

The strings of the ritual gathered faster, wound thicker, tighter, with a physical anchor.  

Clockwork moved on to the ribbon at Danny’s ankles.  The weaving was slightly different, but had the same effect. 

He expected the one under his arms to go the same way.  But instead Pandora, Frostbite, and Clockwork gathered flowers from another altar.  They were all black and white, so it took Danny a moment to recognize them.  Lilies, roses, marigolds, carnations, asphodel, nettle, nightshade, poppies, lycoris.  Flowers for death, for funerals, for mourning.  

Clockwork wrapped Danny’s hands around the bouquet, and pressed the ring finger of his left hand against a rose thorn.  A drop of blood welled up.  Blood, not ectoplasm.  Danny stared, surprised.  But he didn’t get to stare long.  Clockwork produced another ribbon, and wrapped it around the flowers and Danny’s wrists.  

Then, he picked up the other ribbon under Danny and tied it around his upper arms and elbows before tucking the ends into the ribbon around Danny’s wrists.  

It all felt very secure.  

Under normal circumstances, Danny would have been able to escape such flimsy restraints in a hummingbird’s heartbeat.  But it wasn’t just the ribbons that held him.  He could still escape, yes, but it would take a great deal of effort.  

He twitched his shoulder, just to check that he could.  The motion was slow, heavy, and smaller than he expected.  

Pandora put a stilling hand on his shoulder and held a coin up in front of his face.  It was large and silver, inscribed with symbols from languages both long dead and never alive.  Danny wondered if they had made it just for this occasion.  

“A last chance,” said Pandora.

His last chance to back out, is what she meant.  To say something.  He could do it.  He could stop the ritual and suffer the consequences.  He could be a danger to everyone around him for the rest of his existence, however long or short that was.  

He gave Pandora the tiniest shake of his head.  She smiled and pressed the coin against his lips.  He opened his mouth, just enough to take the coin.  It fit comfortably on his tongue, in between his teeth but not jostling against them.  If it wasn’t custom made and sized, it might as well have been.  It tasted metallic and sweet, as if, given enough time, it would dissolve on his tongue. 

Pandora took out one more embroidered ribbon and wrapped it around his jaw and the top of his head, holding his mouth closed.  There was enough tension in the ribbon to press, but not enough for its edges to dig into tender flesh.  Taken together, the coin and ribbon made an effective gag.  

His wail was now bound just as effectively as his intangibility and invisibility, as effectively as his tongue and voice.  For the first time since the incompatibility between his powers and his body became clear, the stress of keeping his wail under control was lifted away.

(A possibility, unraveled: Danny standing at the center of a crater made with his own voice.  No, kneeling.  No, weeping, curled on the ground, head touching dirt and fractured concrete.  He knew those buildings, teetering on the edges of new cliffs.  He knew them.)

This was the right decision.  

The three older ghosts busied themselves at the other, smaller altars briefly, allowing Danny to collect himself and sink deeper into that sense of relaxation.  The wail wasn’t the only thing that had been taken off his shoulder.  All his other voice-based powers were similarly locked away, and he hadn’t even noticed losing his shapeshifting, but he couldn’t touch that, either.  

When Pandora stepped back into his field of view, she was holding a mask.  A death mask, more specifically, styled after Danny’s own face.  Frostbite, next to her, held a small, square cloth, like a handkerchief and a small bottle.  

Clockwork reached out and touched Danny’s face, briefly tracing each of his features.  His lips, his nose, his eyebrows.  He slid his fingers down, pressing Danny’s eyelids closed.  The motion was gentle, but held a strange sort of finality.  

Danny found that he could not open his eyes.  

Fabric, soft and smooth, whisper thin, covered his face and was adjusted, straightened.  Something fragrant dampened it from above, near his nose.  More perfume.  He inhaled.  Exhaled.  Stopped.  

Stopped.  

Stopped.

Before he could have any more thoughts about not being able to breathe, the death mask was pressed into place.  The weight of it pressed the thin shroud over his face snugly into his skin.  It made his other limitations - his eyes, his breath, his general immobility - more acceptable, somehow. 

Other talismans were placed on his skin or tucked into the ribbons.  Some, he could identify by touch.  The ticklish barbs of a feather.  The cold roundness of another, smaller coin.  The familiarity of his childhood stuffed bear.  Others, his powers identified for him.  The sparkling wonder of a lunar meteorite.  The shiver of a carved piece of ghost ice.  The thrumming power and glory of a vial of ectoplasm shed by a god Danny had fought and defeated.  He hadn’t known they’d kept that.  

But other things were too strange to identify by touch alone.  He could make guesses.  Maybe that was a flower petal, maybe this other thing was a coil of string, and while he was sure that last was paper, he couldn’t say what was on it.  

With every token placed, another one of his powers was called up and locked away, like bound by like.  His awareness of the stars winking out as the meteorite was placed was sad.  The powers he’d ‘earned’ from that god being placed firmly out of his reach, however, was only a relief.

He was verging on helplessness, now.  Helpless, but unburdened.  

Clockwork started to speak.  None of the words were recognizable, but Danny knew the feeling of a prayer.  This one was old.  Old old.  Old even by the standards of ancient ghosts.  They hummed briefly in his bones before settling in them like lead weights.  Or golden ones.  

The edges of the sheet he was lying on were lifted up and folded over him, then tucked under him.  Wound around him.  It was a winding sheet.  Of course.  Of course.  The next cloth, too, was pulled up and over him, the motion a little more brisk now that the tokens were held in place by the first sheet.  Then, the next.  Cerecloth and cerements.  

Danny twitched a little, at first, at certain unexpected touches, but when the third wrapping added  its comforting, soothing pressure he was reduced (or, perhaps, elevated) to a state of perfect limpness.  

They added more tokens between the third layer and the fourth, but Danny couldn’t even begin to guess what they were.  They were too muffled by layers of silk - those layers being both the literal layers of cloth and the figurative layers of the ritual.  

Clockwork’s prayers were getting harder to hear, but Danny felt like he could recognize some of them, now.  Snippets of Akkadian, Egyptian, Greek, Latin, a word or two off the Oracle Bones.  Prayers for the dead, for their revenge and their remembrance, for their reverence and their reward, for their repose and their return.  

He was wrapped again and again, until the pressure, the gentle rocking motion necessary to wrap him, and the nearly unintelligible rhythm of Clockwork’s prayers threatened to lull him to sleep.  

He could hear snatches of Esperanto, now, and English.  

“... rest, and rest in peace… until waking… to hope… blessing in memory…”

Some parts of it felt familiar.  Others were strange, so strange, but he was bound so securely, now, that he almost felt as if he was floating.  

“... iron and wood, we entrust this most precious… an embrace… the hallowed graves… deliver and defend…”

No, he was floating, sort of.  He’d been lifted up, sheets and all, and now he was being moved sideways.  Sideways, and now down, down, into a snug cavity.  Was he bordered by flowers?  Pillows?  Both?  He couldn’t tell.  

“... into silk… like dust by sunlight into gold… changed… after a long day, to sleep…”

A faint weight draped over him, a final sheet covering him.  He felt, with a strange sense that lay deeper than instinct, further down and closer to his heart and soul, that Pandora, Frostbite, and Clockwork had drawn closer, that they were kneeling beside his casket or coffin, heads bowed.  

“Now we lay thee down to sleep,” whispered Clockwork, words startlingly clear despite his voice being harder to hear than ever, “we pray thy grave thy soul to keep, until thou choose the form thou take, and the hour thou shall wake.”

“And should thou never wake,” whispered - someone.  It was getting harder to tell the muffled voices apart.  “We shall mourn for thy sake.”

Very slowly, the force pushing in and down on Danny increased, deliciously.  It was almost enough.  

(Danny didn’t know where that thought had come from.)

A loud thump shuddered through Danny.  Another.  They were nailing him in.  Another restraint.  Another limitation.  Another step towards the cumulation of the ritual.  Almost.  Almost.  

Thirteen nails sealed Danny into the coffin.  

(He had been snug before.  Now, he wasn’t sure he could have moved even if the ritual hadn’t removed the ability from him.)

(All his powers were bound.  There was no more sense of responsibility keeping him awake.  His body was cocooned in every way possible.  There was no more fear about destabilizing and melting.  None of his choices would change what would happen to him next.  Only a curiosity about what it would feel like to be buried kept him from succumbing to his soul-deep exhaustion then and there.)

Vaguely, ever-so-vaguely, Danny could feel his coffin lifted, moved.  He knew where he was going.  Out of the mortuary shrine, across the lawn, down the rows and rows of graves, and to one grave in particular.  He’d wanted to be buried next to family, and Dani was his only family available.  

They stopped.  He was lowered.  Down.  Down.  Stopped again.  

A chill stole over Danny, like the cool side of a pillow, but all over his body, as if it meant to draw out the last of the warmth of life from his ectoplasm.  Restful.  

The dirt came down in sifted shovelfuls, like rain on a roof, like distant thunder.  And– he did have more powers, either so subtle he didn’t notice them as such or as of yet undiscovered.  These were buried as thoroughly as the others.  

Up and up the dirt piled, until he could barely feel it as it came down.  Until all that was left was the weighty, solid thump of a headstone coming down.  

Then there was nothing.  Nothing but silence, stillness, silk… and sleep.

.

Danny woke with the comfortable confusion of someone who had gotten their blanket wrapped around them unevenly while they slept.  Slow, unhurried, well-rested, but just slightly less cozy than expected.  

He shifted, mumbling and rolling over.  No, that wasn’t any good.  He made a face.  There was something on his face.  He reached up to wipe it off, and the sheets wrapped around him tore like cobwebs.  

That roused him further.  This… he did not think this was his bed.  It was his, but not his bed.

He wiped something thin and crackly off his face and inhaled deeply.  Dust.  Salt.  Dust, salt, and something like decay, but sharper, fresher, cleaner.  

He breathed, remembering.  His mouth tasted like silver and sugar.  His hands quested outward, seeking, seeking, until he found the edges of the space he was in.  

This was his grave.  His coffin.  

It was bigger than he’d imagined.

His eyes opened to a darkness relieved only by his own faint glow.  The many sheets he had been wrapped in had been reduced to fragile scraps, except a very few that remained stubbornly wrapped around his shoulders.  His mask was a thin shell.  The flowers were desiccated, colorless strands and flakes.  The pillows were flat and torn, showing the wooden sides of the coffin in places.  The only token he could see and identify was the plush and pristine form of Neil Bearstrong.  He gathered the toy close, pressing him against his chest.  

He’d made it.  He was awake, aware, and apparently stable, when before he’d been bracing himself for death.  He breathed out, breathed in.  His breath caught in his throat, and he giggled.  

Did that mean Dani had made it, too?

He rolled onto his back and put a hand against the lid of the coffin.  It looked strange there.  Disproportionate.  But of course it did.  His body had just finished reformatting itself into a stable form.  Frostbite had told him that he’d probably look different, maybe even radically different.  Clockwork had even confirmed that medical opinion, from a temporal perspective.

Positives: his hand was a recognizably human hand.  He was awake.  

He didn’t dare turn human - if he even could - until he had Frostbite and the others look him over.  He wouldn’t be able to phase through the Ghost Zone’s soil.  Teleportation was inadvisable while he was this disoriented.  So were portals.  And most powers, really. 

He’d have to dig his way out.  

Bracing himself, making sure his limbs were free of restraint, he drew back his fist to punch the lid.  The dirt would come in fast, and he wasn’t sure how deep he was.  Six feet was traditional, of course, but it was also traditional for the dead to stay that way.  So.  

The lid flew upward under the force of his strike, all the dirt overhead bending away.  He grabbed the edges of the hole and pulled down, widening it enough for him to claw his way out without warping his body.  He… wasn’t quite ready for that, after the whole melting thing.  

He burrowed upward, feeling like something between a worm and a badger, batting away dirt, crawling, squirming, reaching upward.  Despite his best efforts, some of the winding sheets came with him, clinging, slowing his passage.  Still, his hand hit free air.  Grass tickled at his fingers.  He set his palm down on the ground, and pulled.  

The dirt did not want to let him go.  It pulled back, its embrace offering an eternal peace, but Danny was firm, eager to go, to see, to live.  He pushed himself up, and out, then lay, panting, on the ground.  

That had been… more tiring than expected, actually.  

Someone propped him up, large hands bringing him into a sitting position.  “Daniel,” said Clockwork.  A loose and oddly cut robe was wrapped around him.  

“Mm,” said Danny, his voice cracking.  

A cup was raised to his lips.  He drank greedily, the sweet, floral liquid soothing his dry throat.  

“Shall we get you cleaned up?” asked Pandora, another hand, laid on the center of his back.  

“Can you walk?” asked Frostbite.  “Or fly?”

“Yes,” said Danny, hoarsely.  He reached up to put his hand on Clockwork’s shoulder.  It took some to get it there.  It was further away than he’d thought.  

He was smaller than he had been.  Not entirely unexpected.  Returning to one’s appearance at death was, apparently, one of the more common ways for this to go.  But had he really been this small at fourteen?

They did not go to the mortuary shrine, but made their uncertain way to the other shrine in the graveyard: the revival shrine.  The structure was much the same inside and outside, but it had only one altar.  The rest of the space was reserved for a bath, bed, and mirrors.  

Pandora guided him to a chair in front of one of the mirrors.  Danny stared.  He wasn’t much to look at right now, but what he could see of his body… 

It hadn’t been a winding sheet dragging at him as he’d crawled through the dirt.  It had been wings.  He shrugged the loose robe off his shoulders to see them better.  They were patterned with white and black, star and moon shapes on a dark background. He had antennae.  Long, soft, feathery looking things curving up and back from his temples.  

Clockwork brought a damp cloth to his face and, slowly, began to clean away the dirt.  

“Surprised?” asked Clockwork.  

“Are you?” 

Clockwork chuckled.  

“Did Dani– Is Dani–?”

“She woke seventeen years ago,” said Clockwork.  “She is quite smug about technically being older than you in terms of lived experience.”

“She would be,” said Danny.  

He pulled away from Clockwork’s ministrations to get another look at the mirror.  He had about the same proportions he did when he was a teenager, and his hair was as white as it ever was in ghost form, but it sparkled, as if someone had dusted it with silver glitter.  His antennae matched the color pretty well, too.  Star-shaped freckles littered his cheeks, and when he tilted his head this way and that…  There was an effect like a hologram, depending on the light, of a dark or glimmering domino mask around his eyes.  

And, beneath that, his basic features, the structures of his bones…  They looked about the same as they had when he was young.  Except… softer, somehow.  More neutral.  The change, as subtle as it was, gave him a genderless mien.

(The idea of that trend continuing elsewhere on his body didn’t bother him nearly as much as he would have expected before this.)

He wondered what he would look like in human form.  But… later.  Later.  

For now, Pandora was running a tiny brush though the delicate hairs of his antennae, removing irritating bits of soil and grass.  

“In fact,” said Pandora, “I would wager that she will be smug about physically appearing older than you.”

“She looks older than me, too?” asked Danny.  “That’s hardly fair.”

“That is the way of things, I’m afraid.  She hadn’t truly died until she was buried.”  

“But she’s okay?”

“She’s doing very well, last I saw her,” said Frostbite.

“And Jazz?  Sam and Tucker?”

“All fine,” said Clockwork.  “They visit you frequently.”

Pandora did something complicated with telekinesis that pulled most of the dirt from Danny’s skin and left him feeling distinctly fluffed.  The fuzz along the bases and upper edges of his wings stood on end.  He shook himself all over, then plucked the washcloth from Clockwork’s hands so he could clean behind his ears and in-between his toes.  

“Clothes?” asked Clockwork.  

“Cut for wings?” challenged Danny.  

“Of course.”

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay 2024 #dannymay 2024 day 21: funeral

[munsonsmixtapes]

Tired of Waiting

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: little pieces of your life as you fall in love with Anthony

cw: hurt/comfort

very loosely inspired by Love Story by Taylor Swift

Age 7

The first time you met Anthony, you had been playing hide and seek with your siblings. Your brothers had invited him to play and had declared that he be the seeker. Immediately, you had thought he was cute with his disheveled hair and outfit that was covered in dirt for reasons unknown to you.

He got along with your brothers quite nicely, but didn’t seem to pay you any mind. Almost as if he didn’t like you. And Anthony didn’t like you. He thought you were a know-it-all and didn’t like how you told him what to do.

You hid yourself in the tree above you and tried to hold back your giggles as you watched the boy and your brothers look for you, calling out your name as they did so. You let out a laugh that was a bit too loud and all four of them looked up, Anthony’s eyes going wide as he saw how high up you were. He thought it was very irresponsible of your brothers to let a girl such as yourself climb up there. But instead of helping, they all just laughed along with you.

Taking matters into his own hands, Anthony climbed up to help you despite your objection. You didn’t need his help. You got up there so you could certainly get down. And you certainly didn’t need help from a boy. Especially not one who was your not your brother.

“I do not require your help,” you told him, but he just ignored you, climbing the tree quicker than you ever could.

“No one said you didn’t require it, but I am offering.”

“Then I shall stay up here.” You crossed your arms over your chest, planting yourself down on the branch that you had been standing on. Thinking about letting him help you made you feel weak, like you couldn’t do it for yourself and you most certainly could.

You turned to face the setting sun as Anthony continued to climb to you, paying him no mind. You weren’t leaving that tree until he went away. He was not going to make you look like all of the other women. Because that was not what you were. You were just a girl trying to live out her freedom until it was time to discuss marriage.

Everyone stopped when there was a loud crack coming from below you. You sat up and sure enough, the branch was separating from the tree. Anthony finally reached the branch and him grabbing onto it made it completely break off, causing the both of you to fall to the ground in a loud thud.

He landed on top of you and made multiple apologies even though the fall hadn’t been that far, but you had hurt your knee, probably had even broken it. You screamed in response to the pain and your brothers quickly pulled him off of you and your oldest brother, Henry carried you inside to have your scraped knees taken care of. From that moment, you vowed that you would always hate Anthony Bridgerton.

Age 12

You got over your hatred for Anthony pretty quickly and the two of you had been attached at the hip ever since. You’d chase each other through the garden, threatening to kiss the other once you were caught, but that never actually happened. No matter how much you wanted it to. You knew it was wrong for a boy and a girl to kiss if they were not married, but that didn’t stop you from imagining what it would have been like to press a featherlight kiss to Anthony’s lips.

And Anthony felt just the same. He had realized that the feelings he had thought were hatred were actually of love. He had loved you and more than just a friend. He knew that he was young, but he wanted to marry you. So badly that it hurt. He vowed that as soon as the two of you were of age, he’d do it. If he had the guts.

Age 16

As you got older, you and Anthony talked much of traveling the world together. You’d go to Spain and Paris, and Italy and wherever else your hearts desired. You’d both sit in the study of your house and spin your globe for hours, closing your eyes and spinning the thing and deciding you’d had whatever it landed on to your ever-growing itinerary.

Not long after, Anthony told you that he would be traveling with his uncle through Europe. Coincidentally to the exact places you both had discussed going to. You had been a little upset, but ultimately felt elated for him to be able to do something so exciting. He promised that he would write and bring something back, but that didn’t seem like enough. You had spent every single day for the past nine years together and now you were going to be miles apart with only his letters and gifts to keep your company.

The next week, you saw Anthony off, giving him a hug that lasted a little too long for friends and stayed there until his carriage disappeared down the road. You felt tears fall from your eyes but wiped them away until you were alone.

You knew it was only going to be for a few weeks, but without Anthony, a part of you was missing. A piece of your heart had left with him and you were hoping, praying that he’d finally get the hint and come back and ask for your hand like you had been wanting for years. But he didn’t.

Age 20

Those few weeks had turned into months which eventually turned into years. Anthony had been gone for four years and you eventually threw away the letters he was sending you, knowing that everything he had said was a load of shit. He has promised to come back and marry you, but clearly that hadn’t been of importance since he had yet to do just that.

So, with that, you decided that it was finally your season to find a husband to which your mother reluctantly agreed. She had her heart set on you ending up with Anthony, but since he had failed to propose, she decided that it was probably for the best to just get on with it.

As soon as you had been declared ready to wed, suitors lined up at your door with gifts and many compliments which you took with a smile. All of them were gentleman, but none of them seemed right. The onto one you wanted was out of reach.

You found yourself at yet another ball to meet more suitors that you had forced yourself to go despite your want to stay home and read Anthony’s letters over and over again. You had been dancing with the man your mother had insisted was the right fit for you and no matter how nice he was, you had decided that he was a bore. All he seemed to want to talk about was his family and as nice as it was that he loved them so much, you could only hear about his six siblings for so long.

You looked around the room as he spoke and your eyes locked on a beautiful man by the refreshments table. He has the prettiest brown eyes and hair that was the perfect amount of messy. He was definitely your type and you had been determined to talk to him.

Once the song ended, you excused yourself from Edgar and made a beeline for the man that has caught your interest. His eyes locked on yours and for some reason, they seemed familiar, almost as if you had looked into them before. He gave you a smile and you swore your legs were going to give out at how pretty it was.

“Hello,” you greeted him with a curtsy. “I’m-”

“Lady l/n,” he finished, taking your gloved hand and pressing a kiss to it. How could he have possibly known your name? Unless- No, he was in Paris last you had heard.

“Anthony?” You asked and he just smiled. It really was him! In the flesh! How had he come back and not told you? Perhaps the announcement had been in the letters you had failed to open.

“I believe you should address me as Viscount Bridgerton,” he said, his lips right by your ear, causing you to shiver.

“That would mean that I respect you and at this moment, I don’t.” You pulled your hand from his and headed out of the ballroom, down to the courtyard.

Anthony took off after you, quickly gaining up on you. What had he done wrong? Once upon a time, you worshipped the ground that he walked on and now you were treating him like he was dog shit you had just stepped in.

He told you he was going to come back and marry you and now that he had, you didn’t want anything to do with him. He knew that he had been gone longer than intended, but he had hoped you still would have been happy to see him. Apparently, he was wrong.

Anthony followed you into the hedge maze that took up most of the courtyard and was having trouble keeping up since you had sped up into a run. What even was the purpose of a hedge maze?

He eventually caught you by the wrist and you tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but it was no use. You were tired of running, but you were also tired of waiting. If you said the word, you’d be wed to Edgar within a month and Anthony would have been kicking himself because he hadn’t gotten there sooner. It was what he had deserved.

“Stop running,” he commanded through labored breaths and you just shook your head.

“No,” you replied. “I will not. I am so upset with you that I can’t even comprehend it.”

“Upset with me?” He still had no idea what he had done.

“Yes!” You looked so upset and exhausted that all Anthony wanted to do was hold you in his arms as a way to comfort you.

“Why?”

“Why? Be serious, Anthony! I have waited years for you and I shall not wait any longer. I am done with you.” That was like a stab to the heart. You should have just killed him. It would have hurt a lot less

“Done?” You couldn’t be done with him. You had spent too much time together for that to be true.

“I am to marry Lord Fletcher.” Fuck, he was too late.

“That man is a bore!” You had no interest in hearing his thoughts. He lost his privilege to tell you what he thought when he left.

“He is no such thing!” He really was, but you weren’t going to give Anthony the satisfaction of being right.

“And may I say old enough to be your father.” He was that too, but you weren’t really going to marry him so it didn’t matter.

“But he will be my husband. A role you could have taken on if you had bothered to show up.” With that, he he let go of your hand and watched you move further into the maze.

“But he doesn’t love you as much as I!” He yelled, loud enough for you to hear. You quickly turned around and marched towards him and grabbed him by his coat before pressing your lips to his. You felt him gasp into your mouth but he quickly melted into you, his lips moving with yours.

“You love me,” you said against his lips.

“More than you’ll ever know.” He pulled away and reached into his pocket for the ring he had bought for you in Paris. He opened the box you gasped at the beautiful ring sitting inside it.

“Anthony, it’s beautiful.”

“And it’s yours.” He removed the ring from the box and slid it onto your finger, tears welling up in both of your eyes. “It always was.”

“I’m sorry. I was horrible to you.”

“No apologies necessary,” he shook his head, pulling you into another deep kiss. “Now, shall we go make the announcement?” He asked, offering you his arm.

“We shall,” you nodded and looped your arm through his, the two of you making your way back into the ballroom to announce your much anticipated engagement.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgeton fluff

[shararan]

Types of comments I've gotten on my swedish fics after I started posting them:

I can't believe there's swedish fics in [fandom], and I liked it

I am learning swedish so it was really helpful to read something from [fandom]

I am so desperate for more of this pairing/trope that I put the entire thing through a translator

#and mind you i would marry all of the above i love them all #i sincerely NEVER expect to get even a single read hit on those fics #as theyre a different type of self indulgent than the way ships or tropes are #its a way of going nuts within my comfort zone and just not worry about the things i do when writing in english #which is a combination of the matter of fluency as well as different levels of rigidness in literary expectations #theres like 800 or something swedish fics total on ao3 which is larger than a few years ago like its a huge boost #but to put it mildly its not THE most sought out fic language #but english has definitely taken over as fandom language since many years now #and things dont get translated as much as back in the day cause ''well everyone speaks english so'' #and i mean fine but i hated how my entire validity started to depend on english #it was enough that i risked losing access to basic education because i struggled learning it in school #didnt want to deal with fandom side eyeing anything non english on top of that #sdklkgsd MY POINT BEING it helps me to shake off expectations + get caught up in arbitrary numbers and let those affect my enjoyment #i dont care for clout generally but yeah writing swedish fics helps squash the beginnings of worrying that maybe i should #because no?? it literally does not matter??? #im glad to bond with people and im happy when they enjoy my things #but its good to remind self regularly not to place ones self worth in the amount you have of it #IM RAMBLING WHAT ELSE IS NEW #sharan talks

[slttygeto]

HUSBAND SUGURU! + PREGNANCY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tags: fem! reader, husband suguru!, nsfw, suguru is very hesitant about being a dad, but isnt forced into this :), reader is very motherly, dirty talk and talk about getting off the pill and being bred.

word count: 2,1k

Husband Suguru! whom before you even got married, sat you down and mentioned to you how starting a family wasn’t something he was looking forward to. you know of his past, of the trauma he’s been through. he fully expects you to break up with him when he tells you that, knows how much you want to have a baby of your own, but you don’t. instead, you cradle him in your arms and tell him that you love him and appreciate what you have right now, not what you don’t even see in the picture.

Husband Suguru! who swears he hasn’t changed his mind about babies, about starting a family in general even three years into the marriage. but when he sees you with your friend’s baby, the glow on your face, the motherly instinct—how you gently place your hand on the baby’s head, rock her back and forth and coo at her softly while her mother gets her food ready, his heart feels as though it is about to explode.

“There there baby girl,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and when the baby cries, your lip juts out and you pull the infant towards your chest in an attempt at soothing her. your eyes find his where he is sitting on the couch, and the lighthearted chuckle you give him pulls a nervous one out of his body. you are now convinced that your husband would never ever change his mind based on the horror painting his features as he turns to your friend’s husband to strike a conversation. but in reality, the topic of their conversation is all too surprising.

“Has it been difficult? You know, managing a career and taking care of the baby,”

“Oh yeah very,” the other man admits but Suguru doesn’t detect a single hint of regret in his voice. “but yknow, look at that,” he point his glass of water in the direction of his wife and you holding the baby. “seeing my wife with our baby, our creation—seeing her act all motherly like that? Totally worth it.”

Husband Suguru! who starts to consider the idea of getting you pregnant. he hopes for the rational part of his brain to win over, rather than the horny, disgustingly perverted one. but when you walk out of the shower in a crop top, his mind drifts elsewhere—and suddenly, the image of your belly swollen with his kids floods his mind and he has to put a pillow on his crotch to hide the very evident bulge in his pants.

Husband Suguru! who once he calms down and takes care of his raging boner, texts Satoru in a hurry, asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning. your husband tells you of his plans and you hum sleepily, telling him how catching up with his best friend seems like a good idea. Suguru drops the bomb on his best friend the moment they sit down and the ivory haired’s jaw almost meets the floor.

“You mean you wanna be a dad?”

“I’m not…too sure,” Suguru looks conflicted, he is holding his head in his hands. he knows very well that this is a topic that should be discussed with you, since you were the other person of interest in the situation. but he would hate to give you false hope, he’s seen the way your eyes light up at the mention of a baby, at one of your friends or colleagues being pregnant, how there’s a disappointed look on your face that you try so hard to conceal when Suguru gives you a face in response of a pregnancy announcement. but you are so patient, so accepting, you’ve never once forced him into anything. and truth be told, he wanted to see what kind of mother you would be to your baby—and then toddler, and then teenager and adult—you’d have a life together with a new person who would adapt either your personality or his, with a face of the love of his life. your baby could have your eyes and nose, he’s always pointed them out—even before you started dating.

“Dude, do you or do you not want to have a baby?”

“I don’t know man, it’s hard to think of.”

“Because you are thinking too hard about it,” Satoru says nonchalantly and it irks Suguru a little.

“I am not thinking too hard about it—this is a new responsibility, what if I am not fit to be a dad? I could be a failure for all we know—what if I pussy out of it and—“

“I would kill you.” Satoru warns the man and Suguru doesn’t try to hide how he stiffens up. “I am not joking, I would find you and bring you back to her as a sack of bones,”

“I wouldn’t betray her like that…”

“You’re too focused on the aspect of being a bad dad rather than a good one—yknow, you really think that she’d marry someone she doesn’t see fit as the future father of her children?” Satoru has a point. you did mention to him once (when Suguru was nowhere to be seen at a party you all attended) how falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but the one thing that would top it is if he became a father to your children. Satoru, knowing his best friend’s stance on the topic, reminded you of how terrified the man was of the idea and all you did was give him a reassuring, understanding wave of your hands.

“I know, but I just know he’d love them hard and make them feel as safe as he makes me feel.”

Husband Suguru! who doesn’t really try to bring up the topic of ‘trying for a baby’. he cringes at the thought, feels as though it makes the process less romantic and intimate and more of a robotic task. as he is stripping you of your clothes, he is silent and lets his eyes wander over your figure. you are extremely shy tonight, unable to meet his eyes as his rough, calloused hands brush over the skin of your boobs before bending down to be at eye level with them. he brings the flesh inside his mouth and sucks—and blood rushes down to his groin at the thought of them being filled with milk, heavy and swollen, more sensitive than usual. his teeth graze the skin at an attempt to catch your attention and your thighs squeeze as you meet his eyes.

“Sugu…” your smaller hands rest on his face as he pulls away from your boobs to plant a heated kiss to your lips, effectively pushing you back on the bed. your back gently hits the mattress, and your chest is heaving in anticipation, unsure of what his next move would be.

“Baby,” he finally speaks up, nose brushing against your stomach as he brings his lips to the skin. “how about you drop the pill tomorrow?” he knows how much of a horrible job he is doing at this, but he feels you move, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“w-why would I do that?” your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Suguru wishes to brush his thumb over the tense skin of your forehead.

Suguru is shameless as he kisses further south, planting his kiss above the tuft of your pubic hair before pushing your panties to the side. He parts the lips and gives your clit a kiss before moving to your inner thighs.

“why not? It’s doing horrible things to your body—“ he brushes his nose over your clit as he speaks. “beside, we need you off the pill if we want a baby, don’t you think?” when you don’t react to his words, Suguru looks up only to find you staring down at him with parted lips and eyes glossed over with tears.

“…are you sure?” you ask softly, and your husband swears he could never say no to you if you asked like that all the time.

“very,”

Husband Suguru! who fucks you with a new purpose. each drive of his hips fueling the other to go harder, deeper, to keep pushing his cum inside you and plant his seed deep within. your cunt does a great job at showing Suguru how ecstatic and excited you are with his sudden change of heart. you keep squeezing around him, barely able to keep your sounds in—he fucks you so deeply that the sound of skin to skin is louder than your moans and his groans. when he puts you on all fours, the cum starts to drip out of you but he pushes it back in with two thick fingers, lips pressed to your ass cheek.

“want more?”

“mmm! please,” you whine when he aligns his tips with your folds and fixes your arch with a hand on the small of your back. the gasp that escapes your lips when he fucks into you hard makes Suguru chuckle and he rubs your sides, soothing you.

“no need to beg for it,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your nape. “I’d gladly fill you up.”

Husband Suguru! who stiffens up when you show him the positive pregnancy test. up until this point, he is in control of his emotions—he lets you cry in his arms about how scary all of this was, despite you saying you’ve always wanted a baby. he is supportive, understanding of the heightened emotions that you are experiencing—when he sees your tears turn into happy ones, only half of him is able to relax. clearly, he is nervous but he doesn’t wanna show it. not right now.

The first ultrasound during your pregnancy was nerve racking—your hand squeezed your husband’s as you stared at the screen showing what appeared to be your unborn baby. Very tiny, but still there.

“Okay mom and dad,” the doctor presses the ultrasound transducer a bit lower on your stomach, a small smile on his face. “I got some news for you.”

“Good?” your anxious voice has Suguru rubbing his thumb on the back on your hand.

“It depends, how long have you been trying for this baby?” You couldn’t exactly disclose of your very active sex life, but you do give the doctor hints that it was definitely wanted.

“Well, look over here—“ he points to the screen with his gloved finger, ushering Suguru to come closer. “Look over here dad, what do you see?”

Suguru swallows hard as he stares at the screen in confusion, unsure of what to say. “..a baby?”

“Babies. Congratulations, you’re pregnant with twins.”

Your husband whips his head towards you fast, and you cover your mouth in shock. This wasn’t planned—twins? And for a first time? You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were of excitement or fear that maybe you weren’t ready for this.

But Suguru still comforts you, holds you in his arms—tells you that maybe finding out the gender won’t make all of this sound scary anymore. He knew you never really had a preference for gender—you were a natural mom.

However, finding out the gender was an emotional experience for the same man who never thought he would become a father.

Husband Suguru! who tells Satoru to buy the gender reveal cake for you two. he doesn’t want to throw a party, and neither do you. finding out within the privacy of your own home seemed like the best option—you didn’t want to reveal that you were pregnant to any family members—at least not yet.

“Are you ready?” You hold your own glass as you wait for your husband to stand next to you. Your bump wasn’t that evident yet, but signs of pregnancy were starting to show on your body and it brought this warm feeling to Suguru’s body.

“Yeah, hold my hand.” You chuckle slightly at his request but comply either way. Each of you holds their own glass above the cake before looking away as you push it down—you hold your breath, Suguru rests his forehead on your shoulder as he mumbles something about not being able to look at the cake. But you muster up the courage and lift your glass, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

“Sugu—“ you don’t need to tell him to look, he was already staring at the glass with teary eyes. The pink frosting wasn’t something he was expecting to see—he knew he was going to be happy with either but two little girls? His own baby girls—the thought of being a girl dad brings tears to his eyes and you’re quickly pulling him towards you.

“Oh baby,” you hold back your own tears as you comfort your emotional husband, his arms wrapped around your middle. You hear little sniffles and a hand rubs your back before feeling a pair of lips pressed to your forehead.

“Gonna be the prettiest mom to the prettiest girls. Ever.”   

note: my posts are all self indulgent at this point… enjoy :D

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

#moon's works #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #geto fluff #geto suguru fluff #geto suguru smut #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #geto headcanons #jjk getou #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen getou #jujutsu kaisen geto #getou suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu geto #geto x you #geto x y/n

[rafeandonlyrafe]

angel of a daughter

words: 2.2k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, stepcest, stepdad!rafe, p in v sex, unprotected sex, virgin!reader, female receiving oral, fingering, breeding, fertility issues (from mother), reader is described as having big boobs, kinda pregnancy kink from rafe but more talk of sex while pregnant, cheating (no daddy kink)

“i got the results back.” your mom says, her voice low and sad, revealing her results with her tone alone. “the doctor says theres no way.” “i’m sorry, mama.” you pout, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. you hate that you feel a bit of relief. your mom had you young, a teenager knocked up by another teenager who ran off the second he heard his girlfriend got pregnant.

your mom raised you until you were a teenager yourself, doing everything by herself until your stepdad came into the picture. he inserted himself perfectly into your life, but expected to have kids of his own.

“whats the plan then?” you question as your stepdad comes into the living room, setting a glass of water down in front of your mom. you sit on either side of her, showing your support. “adoption? surrogate?” 

you like being an only child. you like it just being you, mom, and rafe, but at the same time, you want your mom to be happy, and if a baby gives her that, you'll adjust for her.

“actually…” rafe clears his throat. “we were hoping you’d be willing to help out.”

“yeah, of course.” you nod. “anyway i can.” 

you don’t realize what rafe means until later. you assumed it was just help researching adoption agencies, or finding a surrogate, but as rafe hovers over you, you realize he means to breed you.

“m-my mom can’t be okay with this.” you stutter out, body stiff against the bed, trapped as you blink up at rafe, body caging you over the mattress.

“she thinks you’re going to get inseminated.” he huffs out, breath warm against your face. “and in a way you are. a natural way.”

“i-i-” you stutter out. “i don't know about this.”

“come on, i see the way you look at me.” rafe shifts his weight to one hand, gliding down the other down your torso, squeezing your hip gently. “i know you want this.”

“you're married to my mom!” your eyes are wide, but a spark does ignite inside of you. “you're my stepdad!”

“and you’re going to be doing both of us such a big favor, pretty girl.” rafe coos, his fingers running along the material of your shorts, stroking closer and closer to your center every time.

“i-i guess it would be easier than going to a doctor.” you’re sure it involves waivers and legal shit that your mind just can’t even wrap around.

“exactly!” rafe smiles down at you, glad for your naivety. “besides, im making you feel good... you’ll get pregnant, and both of us will feel real good.”

“how many times will we get to do it?” you whisper, hands reaching up to touch rafes cheeks, running your finger down the smooth planes. “like, it probably won’t take the first time.”

“as many times as we have to babygirl. and i’ll take real good care of you during your pregnancy. rub your feet, buy whatever you are craving, eat you out.” rafe loves the way your eyes blow wide.

“thats not appropriate!” your mom has lectured you long and hard about sexual experiences and above all how important it is to wait so you don’t become pregnant young like she did. and now she is asking you to allow your stepdad to breed you when you’re freshly out of your teen years.

“its okay, its just you helping us out so im helping you back out in return.” rafe moves his hand up to cup your cheek. “let me show you.”

he leans down to press your lips together in a kiss. you lay frozen for a moment before beginning to move back, reciprocating the kiss as your hands fist into his shirt, tugging him lower.

you let out a moan into his mouth and rafe has to pull away to chuckle. “see, i knew you wanted me babygirl.”

“yeah.” you nod. “okay, lets do this.” damn the consequences, you can think about them later.

“good.” he coos out, lips back against yours quickly as his hand gropes at your breast, rubbing them through your tanktop. you’ve always been insecure about the size of your chest, but as rafe lowers down to look at them, you think about them in a whole new light.

“these are gonna feed our baby so well.” he says, tugging at the hem of your shirt, lower and lower until it breeches the swell of your breasts and they pop out the top. you don’t ask who he means by ‘our’. you can indulge in the fantasy that it’s just you and rafe. that your mom is still in the picture, but only in the role as your mother, not the one of rafes baby. 

rafe wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking deeply into his mouth, so in contrast to what it must feel like to have an infant feeding.

“i-more.” you gasp out as rafes fingers play with your other nipple, rolling and pinching at it until they’re both stiff peaks.

“i can’t wait to fuck you baby.” rafe says, helping you sit up just slightly to pull your shirt off, the small pajama shorts the only barrier you have left on your body. rafe also tugs his shirt off. you’ve seen him shirtless before in the pool or on your boat, but its different in this low lighting, so intimate and close. 

“gonna eat your pretty pussy first though.” rafe tugs your shorts down, your thighs pressing together to allow you to keep that part of yourself hidden for a moment longer, before rafe is pushing at your legs and slotting himself onto the bed in between them.

“aww.” rafe smiles, looking much more like a boy your age with his grin rather than your stepfather. “i knew she’d be cute.” his hands stroke over your inner thighs. “have you ever had a guy eat your pussy before?”

“no.” you shake your head. “never done anything with a guy.” you’ve kissed past boyfriends, but it never went beyond that.

“im gonna be your first?” theres a spark in rafes eye when he realizes that you’re a virgin. that he’s going to deflower you, fill you up. 

“y-yeah.” you nod. 

rafe wants you to cum once with his mouth and fingers first to open you up and get you wetter before he fucks you, so he wastes no more time, pushing his face forward between your legs, tongue swiping over your folds as you scream out in pleasure. 

rafe is glad as your moans increase with every flick of his tongue and glide of his lips that he chose to sneak into your room in a time when your mom was gone, off to the spa with her girlfriends, no doubt sharing to them her recent doctors trip and how her angel of a daughter agreed to be a surrogate so her and rafe could have a baby of their own.

“you taste so good.” rafe says. he isn’t one to enjoy giving head often, but you really are the sweetest taste on his lips. he focuses in on your clit as your entire body stiffens before relaxing, sighing out as your head becomes fuzzier and fuzzier with every touch of rafes mouth.

“do you touch yourself here?” rafe asks, pressing kisses to your clit, making out with it just like he did you mouth.

“no.” you shake your head. you occasionally grinded yourself into a pillow stuffed between your legs to get off when you got too overwhelmed, but you never reached your hand in your pants to feel yourself.

“what about here?” rafe brings his hand to your cunt, finger circling around your entrance.

your eyes widen again, that gloriously innocent startled look that has rafe grinding into the bed to give his cock some sort of relief.

“never!” you shake your head.

rafe just smiles, going back to focusing on your clit as his finger pushes in. you’re so wet it’s not difficult at all, but he can feel the way you squeeze around his digit, getting used to the feeling of the intrusion.

“relax for me, princess.” rafe says, sucking at your clit as he begins to move his finger in and out until he’s able to easily pump, the delicious squelching of your wetness filling the room with his every movement.

“gonna add a second, okay?” rafe talks you through the process, not wanting to do something to scare you into changing your mind. “gotta open you up for my cock, baby.”

rafe pushes a second finger into your entrance, working you open until he feels your body stiffen, his concentration going to your clit as he works you through your orgasm, your high so suddenly breeching that your body locks up and you let out a scream.

“shh, i got you.” rafe kisses along your mound as you work through it, pussy clenching around his fingers as he scissors them, knowing he needs you looser to fit inside.

“that-” you gasp out, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “that was so good.” “yeah?” rafe smiles up at you. “i can keep helping you feel that way, baby.”

“mhm.” you nod, not sure how you’ll ever go without now that you’ve felt the high that rafe can get you.

“can i fuck you now?” he questions. as much as he’s ready to go right now, if he has to build you up to allow him inside bare, he would wait.

“yeah.” your voice is dripping with eagerness. “yeah, yes please. just need a drink of water first.”

you sit up slightly, going to reach for your water bottle on your bedside table, but rafe moves quicker, helping you bring the bottle to your lips and suck the water down, pulling away with a gasp as a drop of water glides down your chin, reaching your throat before rafes tongue is on your skin, tasting the sheen of sweat as he follows the wet trail up to your lips, kissing you to keep your mind occupied.

he works his pants and underwear off while you’re wrapped up in the kiss, your hands stroking through his hair, playing with the strands. 

rafe moves your legs to wrap around his hips as he holds onto his cock, swiping it through your folds. he taps the head against your sensitive swollen clit, making you pull away with a gasp.

“stay nice and relaxed for me, baby.” rafe says, pressing kisses to your jaw as he lines up with your entrance. he pushes in slowly, your eyes clenching shut as your chest moves up and down with each breath, trying to keep your body relaxed like rafe said.

“there ya go.” rafe says, halfway inside your cunt. “good girl.”

he pushes as far in as your pussy allows, both of you sitting in that moment, relishing in the feeling of being joined together as you stretch to accommodate his large length, shifting your hips side to side and up and down to get used to the feeling.

“i gotta move, baby.” rafe says, his voice sounding strained.

“yeah, go ahead.” you nod. despite your affirmation, rafe continues to move slowly, his hips swinging back before pressing forward, carefully building up a rhythm.

“it feels really good.” you tell rafe, your cheeks flushed bright pink, hair fanned out on the pillow around you like a glowing halo.

“yeah, yeah.” rafe nods rapidly, his grip on control quickly loosening. “you feel so good too.”

rafe knows he should stop, but he loves the way your body reacts to his dirty words. “you’re so tight around me. i love this pussy. so much better than your mamas. gonna give me a baby, right?”

“i-yeah.” you nod. “fill me up.”

rafes loosening control shatters, his hips swinging forward fast, burying his cock inside of you as the pace instantly triples. you let out a squeal, the sheets gripped in your hands as he pounds into you.

“gonna fill up your pretty little cunnie, baby.” rafe grunts out, his own forehead sheening with sweat from his effort, his muscles straining as he pushes up then down, up then down.

“want it so bad.” you whine. 

“fuck.” rafe gasps out, mouth dropping open, his lips shiny from eating you out. “can’t last much longer. gonna cum.”

you experiment, clenching your pussy around his cock, and judging by rafes reaction of a loud moan and curse, you can tell he likes it. you continue, squeezing every time he pulls out, wanting to keep his cock wrapped in your warmth.

“i-im cumming.” rafe gasps out, his cock growing inside of you before your eyes widen, suddenly feeling warmth spreading as his cum fills you, his cock pressing in even harder, hoping it reaches your womb.

“god.” rafe groans, lowering his body on top of yours, but you don’t care about the weight as you smile.

“we’re gonna keep doing that?” you ask, running your hand down his back.

rafe looks up at you. “oh, of course baby. gonna keep fucking you while you’re pregnant too, maybe you’ll give us twins.”

you roll your eyes and giggle at rafe. “thats not how it works, silly!” “oh, what do you know?” rafe smirks at you. “you haven’t even had sex before!”

“well… i have now.” you mumble, shifting your hips from side to side, rafes cock still lodged deep inside of you.

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[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#acotar #azriel #cassian #rhysand #rhys acotar #feyre archeron #tamlin #lucien vanserra #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #cassian x reader #books and reading #booktok #angst #azriel x cassian x reader

[shooting-love-arrows]

Omg im so in love with househusband,he is sl adorable i wanna keep him in my pocket and protect him from the world!!!!

Does househusband have an official name? And if rq are open yet,how would he be like with a spouse that can be very protective and possessive with him?

- 🌟 anon

Dear 🌟 anon,

Well, you certainly can keep him in his pocket! He wouldn't mind one bit. (He'll crawl there at any given ti —) As for now, he doesn't have an official name.

@shooting-love-arrows

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 with overprotective/possessive! reader

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x [OVERPROTECTIVE/POSSESSIVE] reader (gender not specified) Tw. reader is a walking red flag, possessive behavior, toxic behavior, questionable things

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The moment you said your wedding vows, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 pledged to wholly belong to you. His body, mind, soul and everything that made him well…him.

What I mean is that he probably expects you to be overprotective/possessive over him. In his eyes, it means that you care, love and crave him just like he does you. Besides, those books 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 read in his early youth always implied that your partner should act like that as it’s a clear sign of their strong affection.

In conclusion, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 definitely doesn’t mind your behavior/personality and in fact finds it endearing. He becomes compliant when it comes to you so he has no problem accepting how you act towards him. In fact, he finds it sweet and he hopes you’ll continue doing so <3

✿ BONUS ✿

Some of his favorite you do because of your possessiveness/overprotectiveness:

Marking him. There are many ways to mark one's territory but 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 likes it the most when you give him love-bites (hiskeys). Although it’s considered highly inappropriate to leave marks where others can see them, he likes them to be on his throat, especially just above the pearls you gave him. It was a clear sign to everyone that he was off the limits. And he has something to gossip about with his besties in the club (they're definitely jealous and wish to be in his place but shhh! That’s a secret.).

“Is…” A nameless househusband lowered his voice and leaned in closer to 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 “A love bite?” “Yes” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 out his chest and raised his head higher, proudly displaying the fresh hickey you made this morning.

Make him match his clothes with you. It began long at the very early stage of your courting. On your first date, when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 came dressed in his best outfit which unfortunately wasn’t matching yours, you wrinkled your nose and told him: “this won’t do”. And so you took him into one of the most luxurious clothing shots, where you choose his outfit so it would be matching yours. Right there and then, he was ready to propose and get married. 

Your interrogations. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 loves sharing information with you about his day in detail. Every question thrown his way, he’ll answer honestly. He has no problem telling you who he was with? What was he doing? Did someone bother him? Might I say, sometimes he’ll stretch the truth just to make you jealous and let your possessiveness/overprotectiveness shine. Especially when he feels horny and just wants you to ravage him on the spot.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

#yandere x reader #yandere imagines #male yandere x reader #fanfic #x reader #imagines #yandere #headcanons #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere simulator #yandere male #tw yandere #male yandere #reader insert #headcanon #yandere headcanons #male x reader #soft yandere #yandere househusband #x female reader #x male reader #x gn reader #x y/n #drabble #yandere scenarios #yandere drabble #s.<3.writes #🌟 anon <3

[moonit3]

THE HAREM

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, gn! reader, harem (both of men and women), obsession, mentioned pregnancy, reader isn’t straight, mentioned children, nudity but nothing too much, the retired emperor (your father) wants grandchildren.

➥ synopsis: maybe a harem isn’t a bad idea after all, not with a bunch of people wanting to be yours.

➥ yandere! concubines harem x gn! reader

➥ a/n: here it is, my friends. an entire piece of a bunch of people obsessing over chasing the reader and able to anything to make you their. as the people has speak, the harem consists of men and women to let you guys choose or imagine about the concubines. I don’t what to say more, so enjoy it!

inheriting the throne of the empire, father and the council decided that you should get married soon as possible, which wasn’t bad. you already expected to enter a marriage like everyone told you so, but you didn’t expect that father would send a bunch of concubines to the palace…why did he do that? is he crazy?

according to him, it would be beneficial to the empire to have more connection with nobles of the territory and other people from other part of the world. but also that he desperately want grandkids to be running around the palace and since you are unsuccessful in striking a conversation, father is more than willingly to help you. he is lucky that you love him, because you were ready to choke him for those stupid actions.

things gotten worse by the time you receive the many proposals from people that are willing to join your harem, it’s shocked you a little. many nobles, foreigners and even politicians are offering themselves to become your concubines.

many palaces were build or reformed to be home for those who were assigned to enter your harem. the walls of golden, silver and other expensive material are a great to show how the leader of the nation isn’t above to spend his fortune to accommodate the people that will be part of their daily life, but it’s also a remind that none should interrupt the emperor/empress in their work, but some of those concubines ignore that.

it’s easy to find the most boldly and shameless people from your harem inside your office, whispering to your ears things that none should say during work hours and trying to move their hands to your lower parts. that irritates you, they are supposed to be bothering you on your free hours like you expected, but they don’t care. your beloved concubines knows that you don’t have courage to punish or exile them for their actions, aren’t you a sweetheart? so they often try to make a move on you when you less expected.

one of those unexpected moments was during your bath, when you prefer to be alone and peace that didn’t last long. a man and a woman appeared from nowhere and they were complete naked, showing their intimate part to you. before you could disappear or command them to leave, the men with white hair made you take a seat on his lap while the woman, with green hair, wash your body, speaking that someone so hard working like you should take a moment to rest with them.

your mind quickly remembers whose the two are, both of them are foreign knight who joined the harem not a long time ago. the scars they carry on their skin that tell stories of fights and conflicts, sunburn marks of spending hours under the sun working to archive the body of a warrior and good looking who could easily choose anyone to marry if they weren’t part of the harem.

neither of them dared to take things further, knowing that you are almost on the limit by having two concubines in your private bathroom, but that don’t stop them from trying to strike a special subject with you. asking if you already chose with who you will bed first and who will be the one to carry the first born/make you pregnant.

the two questions were enough to make you overthinking, how could you forget such an important thing and the main reason why there concubines? you need to give the throne a minimal of four potential heirs (father’s words) and for that, you need to choose at least three concubines.

with the bath ending, the two waved goodbye as they didn’t want to intrude your personal chambers when they notice how focused you got by his words. you didn’t saw the smiles on their faces, you failed to realize their plan is working and nor you perceived how the others concubines whispered to each other about the incoming rumors about you.

“it seems that our beloved is finally choosing someone to bed with them! it’s my chance to show myself to them!”

“w-will they take my consideration? the letters i wrote for them might work…”

“maybe they will choose more than one. the retired emperor said he wants at least four heirs from different people, so everyone has a chance!”

many days that were wasted to talk with father about the potential candidates were a lot, the old man couldn’t stop talking how happy he was when hearing yours words. “im going to be a grandfather! can’t you see how much proud am i to finally see you taking the first step to being with someone? i promise to help you raising the little ones!”and for next couple of hours, he didn’t stop talk about the potential scenarios with the hypothetical grandkids that he will spoils with no end.

when father finally stopped talking and went to retire for the rest of the night, you walked back to your office with the intention of finish paperwork that is meant for next month, but you found someone there. one of the tallest ladies of the harem with white curly hair that reach her chest and a dark skin that reminds of you callas lilies. a beautiful, no… a gorgeous woman stands in front of your with her hands holding your chin to look up at her starry eyes.

“my dear,” her voice is sweet as honey, but you can hear the undertones of it, holding back her true energy and you know she is more than a pretty face. “is that true of you choosing a concubine to bed with?”

“y-yeah.” you stuttered. why you did? you never did that before. “everyone knows it, why the question though, my lady?”

“because i was hoping to be the first one to experience it.” she whispered, holding your face closer to her chest, feeling how soft its feel against your cheek. “would you give me the pleasure of being your first, my dear?”

she is a bold one. unlike others who works at the shadows, manipulating and even killing those who are in their paths, the second born of the grand duke knows how to use her charms to enchants you to open your heart to let her in. her starry eyes are too bright to the darkness to the room, but you don’t move away from her gaze, at least not on your own.

a knock on the door reveals another concubine and it’s a familiar face, but also an old face from your childhood, the general. one of the greatest things to ever happen to the empire and responsible to bring many territories to the throne, he is also part of the harem. to think a powerful man like him left his own land to become a concubine for you is extraordinary, but worrying. none of them spoken, just keep staring at each other for minutes until the woman left the office without saying a word, but not before kissing your lips, it tasted like strawberries.

alone with the general, he step closer and guided your hand to his chest, letting you feel his heart skipping faster and faster just by your touch. his cheeks are burning red, an unlike view from the so called the coldest man of the empire, and when he opens his lips to speak, you can’t help but feel surprised.

“would i be selfish for asking to be the only one inside your heart? i can’t help myself when others talk with you, none of them deserve to be around you and touch you, but i do.” his face get closer, too closer to your lips. “give me a chance to show my love. give me a chance to be responsible for the first heir of the empire. let me be the father of your children and please, let me stay at your chambers every single night for the rest of our lives.”

@moonit3 writings

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #yandere headcanons #yandere male x reader #yandere man #yandere woman #yandere boy #yandere girl #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere headcanon #yandere hcs #yandere concept #yandwre concubines #yandere harem #tw yandere #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Missing My Werewolf Husband

A/N: David Thewlis has taken over my mind lol. Enjoy - L

Summary: After two weeks of Remus leaving to teach Hogwarts. He finally comes back.

WARNING: Being married, smut, breeding, NSFW, SFW, angst

Word Count: 2.7K

═ ≪ ❈ ≫ ═

Remus was happy when he got an offer to teach in Hogwarts. The money would help a lot, that’s what he told you as you helped him pack. He notices your quiet demeanor as you fold his dress robes neatly to avoid any wrinkles. You had even patch a few holes on them in the morning.

He calls out your name as he sits on the edge of bed. His heart breaks into two when he notices how red your eyes are. You were trying your hardest not to cry. You were happy for him, yes. The money would be nice, yes but you didn’t care about that. As long as you had him with you everything worked out.

Both of you had settled in his little cottage after graduating Hogwarts and after the war. The cottage was small but it was everything to both of you, making it into your home and using magic for a few repairs. It was paradise and it was a place where Remus could transform every full moon.

“I’m sorry.” You cried softly and he goes close to you in the middle of the bed wrapping an arm around you so you can lean against him.

“Don’t cry, love.” He tells you as he kisses your forehead and hugs you. You hug him back, laying your head on his chest.

“We can send letters. I’ll see you every two weeks when I'm settled down in school and you can use the floo too. Dumbledore was kind enough to add it to my chambers, he said he will connect it with the one in the living room.”

Remus cups your face with his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. You look up at your husband, his blue eyes are filled with his own tears. You pushed his sandy brown hair away from his face so you could kiss him.

Remus was the first to pull away and leans his forehead against yours, his hands going down to touch your arms. “You’re scaring me. You’re not going to leave me if I go, right?” He asks. You shake your head before answering him.

“No, I’m not. I'm not going to leave you not after all the work and time I spent trying to convince you that I love you.”

Remus lets out a chuckle as he kisses you again. You were right, you were in love with him since you were children in school. He knew he was in love with you the moment he saw you on the train to Hogwarts. As he grew he believed that he didn’t deserve to be loved. He didn’t deserve to have friends because of what he is. He didn’t deserve to have someone so beautiful and kind hearted like you but you managed to change his stubborn mind.

“Sometimes I think it’s a dream being married to you. I'm scared of waking up one day and finding out you're not mine. I don't deserve someone like you.” He confesses as he thinks about how you manage his moods when a full moon is near. Helping him clean and dressing his wounds for him after a full moon.

He thinks about the late night you wait outside for him. His chest fills with warmth as he remembers how you learned to make homemade chocolate for him.

When the day comes for him to go to Hogwarts, both of you couldn’t stop from crying. Remus didn’t sleep the night before. He watched as you slept after an eventful night. He traces the love bites marked on your skin, your eyes are shut but your lips are a bit open. He uses his thumb to pull your bottom lip before touching your face again.

Giving you a last kiss before boarding the train he looks out the window to wave at you. He finds an empty cart and places his luggage and suitcase above the seat. He watches out the window as he sits down, with his head against the window. He sniffs before wiping his tears with the back of his hand. There were so many memories about this train, his friends, his life in Hogwarts when he was younger. He can hear Lily and you talking about Charms while Sirius and James planned their next prank. He smiles at the thought of you cuddling with him on the train after graduating from Hogwarts. He feels his eyes grow heavy and he enters into a dreamless sleep.

It was two weeks later and Remus was filled with anxiety. He had sent you a letter on his first day of Hogwarts, telling you all about his position and about the students he is teaching. He wrote to you the next day that he couldn’t sleep the first day there because you weren’t there next to him. You weren’t there to cuddle him and scratch his back. You weren't there to run your fingers through his hair to help him fall asleep.

He found himself daydreaming about you during his breaks and meal times. To make matters worse, Moony missed you too. He can feel it, the wolf needed to be with his mate. Two weeks felt so long, he hasn’t touched you, he hasn’t smelled you. He hasn’t tasted you.

He graciously thanked Dumbledore and the elves for properly connecting the fireplace in his chambers to the fireplace to his little cottage. He quickly used it when they left.

Remus calls your name when he walks into the living room of the cottage. It’s quiet and he calls your name again. Looking in the kitchen and finding nothing he decided to go check the bedroom. The door is open and he can hear you humming. Calling your name again, he looks inside to see you on the bed.

He smiles wide when he notices you. You’re wearing one of his dark gray cardigans. It’s big on you, all of his cardigans are oversized. He saw your bare legs and saw the cardigan was half zip up, showing your cleavage.

You’re holding a book in your lap and he notices the Walkman near you. You’re wearing headphones and now he knows why you couldn’t hear him. He’s surprised you still haven’t seen him, especially when he walks into the room. He slowly starts to make his way up the bed and crawl to you. Feeling the bed dip, you looked ahead and you let out a yelp. Ripping the headphones off your head and pushing the book to the other side of the bed, you throw yourself onto Remus making him laugh as he lays flat on his back on the bed. You had crawled on him, sitting on his lap and kissing him.

Remus moans as he opens his mouth to deepen the kisses. He cups your face, tugging you closer to him as he turns his head to the side to slip his tongue in your mouth.

He looks up at you when you pull away. “Hi.” He says making you smile.

“Hello, Professor Lupin.” You said in a teasing tone as you looked down at him. He smiles at you before puckering his lips at you so you can give him another kiss. His hands find their way onto your legs and rub them up to your hips. He hears you squeal when he pulls the thong before releasing it, making it snap back against your skin. He grows hard at the thought of you home wearing only his cardigans and a thong on.

“Remus.” You whisper to him as you grind yourself against his crotch.

His eyes harden when you sit up straight, staring intensely at him as you bring a hand to the zipper of the cardigan. Pulling it completely down, Remus helps you, pushing the cardigan off of your shoulders showing him your bare chest. You hear him whine before pulling you toward him. He latches on one of your nipples as he uses his hand to pull the other one.

You moaned as he licked and sucked your nipple. Your moans turns into a giggle when his mustache tickles your nipple as he makes out with your breasts.

You can hear Moony growl as he licks the valley between your breasts all the way up to your neck. Remus pulls away to kiss your mark. Nuzzling in your neck, he quickly turns around making you laid down on your back. He spreads your legs wide open for his frame.

Remus doesn’t wait, he’s always been impatient when it comes to touching you. He feels you pulling his tie as he kisses your neck, his eyes roll in the back of his head when he feels you cup him though his trousers.

“Take this off, baby.” You tell him and he obeys you in a hurry. Removing his tie, throwing it over his shoulders with his shirt and sweater. Your eyes watched the scars on his rib cage expand as he took a deep breath. Remus’ body was a work of art to you. His fair skin was a canvas, some of his scars were pink, some were red and others were darker color. You love all of it, you kissed every one of him, even the ones on his back and legs.

You have kissed the ones of his handsome face. You watched as Remus kicked his shoes off and took his trouser off. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes wander down to his light brown happy trail, it disappears under his pitch tent boxer.

Wanting to taste him so bad, you felt his hands grab a hold of your ankle tugging you to the edge of the bed. You call out his name, laughing as you see him with a grin. He knelt down between your legs, his nose bumps with your cunt. He kisses it over the small fabric of the thong.

“Remus!” You moan when you feel his tongue licking your slit, he nips the fabric and uses one of his hands to pull it to the side. He latches on to your clit as he slowly slid two fingers in you.

Throwing your head back when you felt Remus hitting that sweet spot in you. You can’t help yourself and grab a hold of his hair, pulling him closer to your cunt. He moans at your action and eats your cunt messy. You don’t say anything when Remus rips the thong off your body. Another pair down the drain, you joke to yourself but you should have known better. Remus doesn’t like it when your sweet pretty cunt is covered. You blush as you remember what he told you. “Prettiest fucking cunt. You smell so good. Don’t cover up.”

Remus watches you as he comes back up, leaning over you. He kissed you and you moaned at the taste of your cunt on his tongue. He pulls away and signals you to get in the middle of the bed with his head. You quickly do and whine when you feel him slap your ass. Remus is quick to remove his boxer and follows you into the bed. Your head hits the pillow as he gets on top of you. Remus tells you how much he missed you as he kisses your neck. His hands go under, behind your knee and push them up to your chest.

“Let me..” Remus knew what you were going to ask. He would have loved your mouth on him but not right now. Two weeks without you, he needed you now. He needed to be inside of you.

“I’m so hard for you, already.” He tells you and you follow his right hand. He's jerking himself off. His cock looks so pretty and pink, he’s uncut and you can see the precum dripping out of his slit.

“You haven't cum in these two weeks?” You ask him and Remus shakes his head, pouting at you as he continues to touch himself.

You reach out for his cock. Going under to cup his balls making him moan. “Balls are heavy with cum, baby.” You whispered.

“You're going to give it to me right? You're going to give me all that cum you store for two weeks?” You asked him and Remus’ face turns red from your words.

You had a habit of making him blush red from your dirty words. “Yes, please.” He whines as you gently give his sack a squeeze.

Removing your hand, Remus gets closer to you, your legs are draped over his thighs as his cock hovers over your wet cunt. You moan softly when you feel him playing your clit with the fat head of his cock. He gives it a few slaps against your clit and pussy lips.

“Remus.” You cry his name out feeling impatient. He gives you a smirk at your plea to hurry up.

He quickly leans down to capture your lips as he slides himself in until the hilt. You cry out in his mouth at sudden movement. Remus fucks you as he's on top of you. His arm is behind you, your head is laying on his forearm as he watches your pretty face. He holds the edge of the mattress with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he thrusts in and out of you.

“Baby.” Remus whines as he looks down to see his cock going in and out of your pussy. What a lovely sight, a sight he missed so much. Letting go of the mattress he goes to your left breast fondling it as he continues.

You can't help but cry as he fucks you. Remus looking at you, his pretty blue eyes staring down. You feel him so deep in you in this position, his heavy balls are slapping your behind while rutting into you wild. The growl he gives you doesn't scare you one bit, it makes you clench around. Remus pants your name, you feel him tremble as you grab a hold of his thighs to help you stay in place. Remus' harsh thrust makes the box spring of bed squeak loudly. Your toes curl up when you feel his thumb on your throbbing clit. Remus leans back to see you come undone on his cock as he keeps fucking you. His hand becomes drench when you cum.

“Oh fuck-fuck.” Remus whines as he releases your clit and quickly leans back over you, his arms go under you to hold you close to his chest. He hides his sweaty face in your neck. You hold on to him for dear life as he catches up to his own release. Remus shouts your name and he gives you one harsh thrust and holds himself deep inside of you.

Remus is breathing heavily, he whines to you when he feels you stroking his back with both hands. He can hear you calling his name out softly trying to catch his attention. He moans as he feels his legs start to ache from holding this position but he ignores it. He lifts his head up from your neck and looks down at you. Your cheeks are flushed and your hair is tousled. He hums when you bring your hand to brush his own hair out of his face not minding how damp it was from his sweat.

“I missed you.” Remus hears you whisper.

“Me too. Me too, Y/n.” He croaks out to you before giving you a kiss on the lips. After a few moments, he’s off of you. He keeps kissing you softly, enjoying your warmth and your presence. He wipes you clean, carefully to not hurt you. Remus tries to push back Moony but the wolf inside of him is satisfied with the sight of your wet puffy cunt, blobs of his cum dripping out and wetting the blanket under you. With a warm damp cloth he wipes you with it, he gives your mound a kiss when he finishes.

You listen as Remus tells you about being back to school as you lay with him on the bed. He has his right arm around you as you laid on his chest. You trace the scars on his chest as he spoke. You catch sight of his left hand when he touches his lower stomach. The golden wedding band shines in the light and it makes you smile, you were so happy he was back. Oh merlin, how you missed your werewolf husband.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin is hot #harry potter fanfiction #david thewlis #remus lupin being the best husband #remus lupin angst #remus lupin married life #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader smut #remus lupin x you

[ivymarquis]

I would go nuts if you do something for Ghost! Make it filthy ? based on your f list , how about a combo of : chubby with size difference, breath play, breeding, light bondage, orgasm control and heavy aftercare? Or make it light , how about a combo of : chubby with size difference, oral , begging, slow burn, multiple orgasms and ofc heavy aftercare?

I really hope I didn’t go too far with this lmao

Hit all the notes except the slow burn, dealer’s choice on if this is a “no pregnancy, only breed” situation for kink purposes, or if Simon fully intends on following through with getting the reader pregnant 😇

Spoiled

Pairing| Ghost x F!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 3.5k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Breeding kink, orgasm control, breath play, squirting, overstimulation, acknowledgement of (but no use of) safewords, size difference, bondage, oral (f!receiving) possessive/simp!Simon, plus size!Reader, multiple orgasms, Simon is a touch mean at times but it’s all above board, and aftercare (or at least the plans of what the aftercare will be lol). I think that covers everything!

You’re wearing his favorite dress and Ghost is ready to climb out of his own skin.

Any other situation would have him pinning you on your back, the skirt of your dress pulled up while he pounds you into the nearest surface he can lay you out across.

However you work underneath Laswell which means he gets to watch the hem of your skirt dance across the skin of your thighs during a meeting he is rapidly losing all interest in.

He’s also not the only one looking which raises his hackles. The rest of the 141 are minding their business, eyes on Laswell up front. They know who you belong to, and have the self control to not slobber all over themselves like rabid dogs at the sight of a pretty girl.

It’s the other men in the room.

He can’t blame them; You’re bright eyed and sweet, pretty face with a plush body that Ghost loves tying up in whatever position he can think to put you in. And the fucking dress doesn’t help.

It is work appropriate. There’s a part of him that is willing to acknowledge that. It just flatters you perfectly. And the hem bounces enough to give a mouth watering peek at the insides of your thighs when you’re walking away from him.

Whether you’re oblivious to the eyes on you or you simply don’t care enough to acknowledge them, every time Ghost’s gaze settles on you your attention is fixated on him when not pointed at Laswell.

He’s suddenly seized by the thought that the ring on your finger clearly isn’t enough of a deterrent for unwanted gazes. You’re baiting him, heedless of the others drawn to you.

Sure she’s married but is she satisfied? He knows damn good and well some of the men- some of the specific ones in this room- are dogs. He can hear the question as they pace and look for a weak spot to dig under the proverbial fence.

He needs to make sure everyone knows you’re his. Clearly it’s not enough to show you’re taken.

His mind wanders, thoughts of filling you with him until you’re swollen with child. The evidence readily apparent to everyone that you’re kept satisfied by your husband.

The only thing that keeps his mind from spiraling completely is a well timed prompt from Price, forcing Ghost out of his head and back to the meeting he wants over and done with already.

Once home, Simon is able to drop the mantle of Ghost- at least for the time being- and turn his attention to you.

It really is his favorite dress on you, but it looks substantially better on the floor.

He’s got you laid across your bed, hands cuffed short to the headboard.

You always were handsy in bed. Wanting to pet and stroke and touch- it’s cute how you squirm for him once he deprives you.

“Si- Simon!” His name is a plea as his tongue goes to work between your legs.

He should be used to the sight and sounds that accompany having you bare before him. God knows the two of you have been together long enough for that- and yet every time he gets you to drop your panties his blood sings in his veins like the first time.

He’s fucking enthralled with you. Your smile, your laugh, how quick you are with a witty retort- always the smart ass until he reminds you there’s a better use for that pretty mouth. How easy it was to manhandle you in bed (how you fucking love it).

He adores how soft you are. Lush thighs spread over either shoulder as he goes down on you like a man who’s been stranded in the desert. One hand digging into the flesh of your hip, the other banded across your belly to keep you still as you buck in his hold.

He’s being a mean bastard, he knows. The pair of you have your little arrangement.

“Simon- please!” Your body strains against the cuffs uselessly. If your hands were free you’d be scrambling for purchase where you could find it- burying in his hair, fisting the sheets beneath you. Flicking his gaze up to your bound hands, he grins seeing how your fingers open and close in fists- needing to hold and touch and not being able to.

“Gotta wait for me, love,” he reminds you.

Simon controls your orgasms. Where you cum, when you cum, how you cum and most importantly if you cum.

Usually he’s magnanimous about it. Arguably he still is. If he really wanted to be an asshole about it, he’d be stuffing you with two of his fingers- the width of three of your own- and stroking that spot that had your body burning, eyes rolling into the back of your head while you cried and made a mess for him. Forcing you to fight yourself, to show a little impulse control, reveling in how you squeal and buck against him in protest.

Those soft thighs are trembling like leaves atop either one of his shoulders, splayed open enticingly.

“Pleasepleaseplease.”

He struggles to pull himself away, reveling in how tightly you’re wound. Simon could easily spend hours between your legs.

When initially cuffing you to the bed, his plan was to not let you finish until after he’d cum in you. Wanted to be mean about it, could hear you crying for him to finish you off. No point in getting you off, love, until I’ve filled that pretty little cunt to the brim. Whole lot of effort for nothing if I do it before, isn’t that right?

Simon spoils you rotten though and only has himself to blame for it at this point. Any time he manages to get you laid out before him it is a guarantee he’ll finish you off at least twice.

Hell it’s practically a necessity, the only thing stopping him from proceeding with his initial plan. Your body would choke down on him, usually needing to be fucked open with his mouth and fingers before being able to take the length of him without protest.

You’re squirming again. The break from his tongue lashing against your clit allows you to regain some composure but still twitching in anticipation.

Not that your respite lasts for long. Simon trails one of his fingers across the seam of your lower lips, watching how your legs jerk on impulse as his touch ghosts across your swollen clit.

“So sensitive,” he teases as you let out a plaintive whine at the contact.

His middle finger slips past your folds, sliding easily all the way to the 3rd knuckle. Giving a few slow thrusts, his ring finger soon joins.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your breaths and how absolutely wet you are. It’s filthy how his fingers squelch inside your cunt. Your moans pick up as he deliberately drags the pads of his fingers across that spongy spot inside of you.

Your brain seems to only be able to remember two words- “Simon” and “please”, chanting them as he works you closer to the edge.

“Be a good girl for me,” he answers cryptically, biting back a laugh at the tortured look on your face. Be a good girl and cum? Or be a good girl and don’t cum?

The hand not buried in your cunt trails up your body- amusement flickering across his face as you jolt from ticklish spots, his hand roaming up your belly, between your breasts and taking its place wrapped around your throat.

Your brain remembers three more words, the alternating chants broken by your accusatory “You’re being mean,”

He is. He’s done worse to you for sure, but he knows the accusation is also another plea. I don’t know how much longer I can hold back please let me cum and call me a good girl- I want to be good.

“You ever consider you’re a spoiled little princess?” He muses to you, lips hovering over your own as he awaits the smart assed retort he just knows-

“It’s your fault I’m like this,” there it is. He grins, giving a chaste peck that is wildly juxtaposed to the sinful things he’s doing to you.

The hand wrapped around your throat tightens. Not enough to damage your delicate wind pipe but enough to put the pressure on the blood vessels in your neck. He adjusts his other hand ever so slightly so his thumb can press against your clit, circling in firm movements in time as his ring and middle fingers work that one spot inside of you.

He gets the desired result- you clenching on his fingers, bucking and squirming uselessly.

“Sorry, what was that?” He asks with a falsely sweet tone, grinning as you hiss.

All the pressure from his hand is placed on the sides of your neck, your pleas and protests turning into mindless babbling.

Simon isn’t entirely without mercy, he just enjoys pushing you as close to the brink as he can.

“Come on then, love- cum for me.” He finally allows, watching with rapt attention as your eyes damn near cross.

His wrist and forearm are wet as you gush around his hand, grinning as your mess is timed with each thrust of his fingers. He doesn’t withdraw until he’s certain he’s wrung every last drop from you, although you’re not left unattended for long.

His grip on your neck lets up, doubly to let you recover from your orgasm as you gasp like a stranded fish as much as it is to have both hands free to position you how he wants.

Mindful that there’s not much slack to pull you down with, Simon holds you steady while he moves to place himself between your legs.

Your flesh is hot, swollen and needy as he lines himself up, one hand on your hip and the other grasping his length. Pliant as you are from your orgasm, it still takes a few thrusts to work you open enough to take the full length of him.

Simon is more than willing to feed you inch by inch of his cock, relishing in the wet suction of your body as you cling and clench around him.

“That feel good, pretty?” He poses the question to you as his hips clap against yours once you’re warmed up and taking him all the way to the base.

“Yes! Simon- yes!”

And what a fucking sight you make. Laid on your back, arms stretching over your head towards the headboard. Those pretty, plush thighs spread wide to accommodate him, giving Simon quite the show- watching as he buries himself in you to the hilt over and over and over again.

He damn near wants to drool watching how your body bounces from the recoil of each snap of his hips. Makes his mouth water- makes him want to turn you into a fucking chew toy, the need to bury his teeth in your soft flesh. His eyes will flick from one part of you to the next, reveling in the soft bounce of your thighs, your belly, your breasts- he couldn’t pry his gaze away, enraptured with the doe eyed, fucked-dumb look on your face when his eyes drift up high enough.

“Whose cunt is this?”

The answer to the question is obvious, and one you know well. It’s not even really the actual question he has- more the lead up than anything else.

“Yours!” He shifts himself slightly, the change in angle working for you based on how you bark out “Oh! Right there!”

Simon grinned, knowing full well what he's doing as he moves to his original position. “You gonna prove it, love?”

Your head must be swimming from the delayed response- frustrated at him for deliberately ignoring your plea and changing the rhythm on purpose.

“Prove it?” Those glassy eyes focus on him, the words sounded out slowly by your cock drunk brain.

“Prove this cunt’s mine,” a sharp thrust elicits a yelp that’s just shy of, but nearing the border of too much. “Oughta fuck a baby into you. Show everyone you belong to me.”

The way you clench down on him draws a grunt deep from his chest, telling him just what you think of that idea.

“Everyone’ll know what a good fucking girl you are,” he’s working himself up, winding tighter and tighter as his mind runs away from him entirely. “Lifting your” he staggers as your clench is timed perfectly with his thrust “-fucking skirt for me,” a few more quick thrusts, “spreading those gorgeous thighs,” his hands are gripping your waist like a lifeline- “letting me have my way with you and not- wasting- a- fucking- drop.” his last words punctuated with strong snaps of his hips.

He’s babbling now, face buried in the crook of your neck as each thrust draws staccato cries from you. “Gonna look so fucking pretty- not gonna be able to take my damn hands off of you,” which was saying something given the current rate he was either bending you over or tying you up.

You clenching around him like a vice wasn’t helping matters either. “Simon please- I want it. Baby I want it. Please cum in me-“ and how was he ever going to ignore a request like that? With you asking so nicely while your cunt works its magic on his cock.

His body dwarfs yours, all broad shoulders and delicious muscling from years of training and physical work that comes with the job. You’re caged under him as he raises his head from your neck and his mouth crashes into yours.

“Mine,” he groans out between kisses. There’s going to be bruises across your body as his grip tightens on you- one hand still fisting the flesh of your hip, the other hooking underneath one of your knees and spreading that leg out to the side, fingers digging into the skin of your thigh as you both grunt at the change in angle.

The noises the two of you are making are absolutely obscene; the slap of his heavy balls against your ass, the wet sound of your cunt taking every last inch of him. Simon’s damn near on the verge of hyperventilating, keyed up as he is between you being as receptive as you’ve been to his dirty talk, reciprocating by pleading him to cum in you. How your thighs are trembling, muscles wound tight as you strain against your binds.

He prides himself on not being a selfish lover. Even as worked up as he is, the forefront thought in his mind chasing his own pleasure so he can be a good husband and fill you up like you’re pleading for so so prettily- there’s still that one part that keys into your reactions. Making sure you’re loving every stroke he gives as he chases his own high, that those yelps don’t take a turn for too much instead of please god don’t stop don’t stop don-

His vision whites out for a second as his orgasm hits him like a bus. The coil that had been twisting tighter and tighter springs free as he buries himself in you one last time with a groan befitting a wounded animal.

The urge to collapse settles on him, but Ghost pushes it aside. You’re tied to the bed, entirely unable to take the brunt of his weight like that and wouldn’t be able to wiggle out from under him with your hands bound.

He grounds himself as he comes down by peppering you in kisses, hands roaming your body. Your face, your neck- anywhere he can reach until he feels his legs are steady enough to comply with what he asks of them.

You’re still keyed up, having been worked close to a second orgasm but not quite getting to cross the threshold before Simon. He can hear you distantly, mewling and pleading for him to finish you off and has every intention of following through.

Moving back down between your legs, a shiver runs up his spine as his over sensitive cock drags across the sheets. Settling with his face between your legs he takes a moment to observe his handwork.

Your cunt’s pretty and swollen- sensitive to, from how you jerk when his breath fans against you. Making soothing motions on your hip with one hand as he shushes you, his eyes focus on the thin line of his spend dribbling out of you.

Well that simply won’t do.

He uses one finger to trace back up your folds, pushing his cum back exactly where it belongs before sliding two fingers into you once again.

It doesn’t escape his notice how much easier it is this time, your fucked open body still soft and pliant for him. He debates teasing you about it for a second but the look on your face has it clear you’re close to crying- tension and anticipation having tears welling up in your eyes.

Spoiled the thought flashes across his head. Course it doesn’t help that he’s utterly whipped. He’ll give you anything you ask for just because you want it.

His head drops, eyes on you while his tongue lashes as your clit and his fingers fuck his cum back into you.

You cry and strain and buck against his hold. Simon knows he won’t have to wait long to feel you clenching around his fingers- it never does when he uses his mouth and fingers at the same time.

But he does wonder how quick he can wring a third out of you once he pushes you over the second time.

He’ll find out shortly- you’re already babbling, knowing the routine and half afraid he’ll make you hold it please let me cum please-

“Go on, pet.” He doesn’t so much pry his face away as he just mouths into your flesh, but got the same result either way.

Your back arches as you clamp tight on his fingers- Simon doesn’t let that get in the way of his ministrations, continuing to mouth at your clit and stroke that spot in you until your cries of pleasure turn into okay okay okay oka-

He doesn’t stop. You try crawling away from him but he puts a stop to that by quickly banding his forearm across your abdomen.

You have a safeword- kettle- if it actually was too much, and unless he hears you say it he’s going to keep a hold of you like a dog being threatened with having his favorite toy taken from him.

You’re being fucking loud, no way the neighbors can’t hear you unless they’re simply not home, and Simon doesn’t give a singular shit as he works you from your second orgasm clear into your third.

His efforts are rewarded with another rush of your cum, soaking his face and dripping down his chin.

Good. He’s still fixated on the idea of you being fat with his child, and the way he sees it the more he gets you to cum the better his chances are of it taking.

Your efforts to squirm out of his grip only increase, futile as they are.

“One more,” he lifts his head to offer you. “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

Those tears that had welled earlier are falling now, and Simon thinks you look absolutely divine with tear tracks down your face, make up smeared to hell.

“Okay,” you nod with a shaky breath- hips still trembling but no longer trying to squirm away from him.

He descends on you once again, intending to make the most of your compliance. What a good little wife he has.

He’s got your fourth orgasm rushing over you in record time, relishing in the way you tense and relax as your body tries to fight the overstimulation before your mind would quiet it. His hand strokes your hip and thigh soothingly, mumbling praises into your skin the entire time.

True to his word, he pulls away once you’ve come down.

You’re watching him with glassy eyes, limbs trembling as you finally catch a reprieve from his mouth.

“I’ll untie you now, okay love?” He’s checking where you are mentally, if he pushed too far-

You nod to him, eyes following as he steps away from the bed to grab the keys off the nightstand.

Your wrists are released from the cuffs only to be encircled by Simon’s hands- so much bigger than your own- as he gently rubs them and checks for any marks. “You alright, love?”

The soft smile you flash him has him ready to melt. “I’m good,” he watches you stretch, the slight wince. “Shoulder’s a bit tight.”

“I’ll run us a bath and we’ll see what I can do about that hm? How about you think about what you want for take out?”

He starts to turn, tethered in place as you reach out for him.

“Don’t go yet.”

He lets you lead him back into bed with a light pull on his hand.

Absolutely spoiled rotten, and yet Simon will gladly give or do anything for you if only you ask for it.

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #my writing #simon riley #simon ghost riley

[adonis-koo]

wicked • 18

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 12k

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tags: oral (f), tiddie sucking…love kink?, teasing, vaginal fingering, begging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting (yeah…), soft dom!kook, loss of virginity, penetrative sex, it doesn’t fit, but only for a moment, size kink,  possessiveness, multiple positions, slight spanking, corruption kink if you squint, creampies (wrap it before you tap it, condoms don’t exist in this au so…yknow)

Note: this chapter was not supposed to be so horny but the brain insisted 💅

Chapel bells could be heard, a somber cry of the hazy day ahead, you sniffled trying to get the smell of ash out of your nose, squinting as you glanced through the cracked tent, the sky tinted and hazy.

You didn’t remember the sun looking quite that color, it was distorted from normal, another bell chimed and you could hear the camp from even this distant, a crackle of the fire and a sob.

“Focus!” Baba Enàir slapped the stick in front of your desk making you jump.

“Sorry Baba.”

“You can say sorry to all the folks who rely on your hands to save their kin,” Her eyes glowered down at you, “As for me, you will do good and well to pay attention.”

Your lips twitched as you stared down at your desk, eyes slowly squinting into a glare before briefly glancing behind her once more towards the open flap of the tent where you watched the girls, hands all joined skipping in a circle.

“Why can’t I be excused?” 

Baba Enair’s eyes followed yours as she sighed, perhaps taking pity on you, though if she did her eyes didn’t show it. 

“You are the Princess of Eunoia, the people look to you for hope, not the court girls.” Baba Enair replied, “Your dryad blood allows you to heal in a way other girls cannot, that other people cannot. It isn’t fair, but it’s for the war, the amount of lives you can save alone compares to ten of the court girls. It’s imperative that your skill is honed. Now focus once more.”

You sighed, you had heard the same reason again and again, one day you hoped it would finally mean something to you though, today however, was not that day.

Regardless of how you felt, you stuck your hands back into the moon water, a small beautiful red fish, evidentially dying as it struggled to swim around. 

You closed your eyes.

“Now start your three part breath, calm your mind.” Baba Enair instructed.

You took a deep breath from your stomach, slowly expanding it to your chest and then your throat, finally letting it exhale, after a few more breaths you began to speak.

“Ni esta- upon I cemen, eless- mama na- laiva,” 

“Louder.” Baba Enair commanded.

“Let your coiv- mauime- celusse minna -yes’s eala-“ you winced as you yanked your hands from the water, the water boiling and your lips parting, feeling a piece of your heart crack at the fish, no longer swimming, but floating.

Your eyes watered as your lips trembled, you wanted him to have a peaceful passing, but all you caused was pain…

Baba Enair slapped the stick on your table, “You were too fast, too hasty! Rushing your studies will only make them last longer. Save your tears child, you will have much to cry for if you cannot even heal a fish.”

Your eyes only closed letting the tears stream down your face, the scene shifted, the tent no longer over you, but the sky above.

Thick with clouds of ash and the fire raged on, the sickening smell of death in the air, people groaning in agony and cries of mourning.

“How could you let him die you bitch! He was only a child!”

Your mouth was ajarred as you took an unsteady step back, “I’m- I’m sorry but I tried everything-“ the tent behind you being prepped for the fire, there laid a boy no older than four, a head wound that he had accidentally reopened when he fell down, attempting to play with his friend.

Blood was everywhere, even now covering your hands as tears gathered in your eyes, “I’m sorry.”

The older mother only glared as if you were nothing more than a speck of dirt under her shoe, “You’ve no right to cry!” She screamed out, reaching out as she grabbed your hair making you yelp, “You are no princess of this country! You are nothing! The dryads have abandoned your veins!” 

Guards had already pulled her off but she made sure to shove you down, gravel digging into your palms as sharp jagged pain entered your body.

Tears dripped down your nose as you heard the woman scream and cry, throwing curse words your way only for her voice to be guided elsewhere as her son’s body was carried out of the tent.

Placed into a bag but it was evident he was in there, you glanced at the large bonfire, cowardly. You looked back at the ground, unable to watch them toss his body in.

You heard her wails and cries as the fire burned bright.

And suddenly, it was surrounding you, suffocating you as you cried out, the plead of a child, the skin melting from your hands and-

You gasped, sweat dripping from your body as you sat up in bed, wincing as if something of ash still lingered in your lungs, coughing you grabbed the water carafe from your nightstand, pouring a drink.

Leaning your back against your bed board, it was just a dream…you took a shaky breath, attempting to close your eyes,

‘blood covering your face, skin hanging and cartilage visible’

Your eyes shot back open upon being greeted with Di Jin’s dead face.

It had already been difficult to go to sleep, his cold dead face showing up every time you closed your eyes, or in your dreams once you had finally slept. Tonight had been different though, different difficulties deciding to present themselves this time.

All better forgotten nonetheless.

It had only been two days, and yet, it felt as if no time had passed at all, slowly you peeled the covers off yourself, shivering as you grabbed your nightgown cover, putting the long sleeve on as you walked to the door.

The room suddenly felt too closed in, too suffocating, you needed air.

Opening the door, you were greeted with your personal knight Yoongi, his injuries still healing, but he was doing far better than you.

When the unfortunate event of Di Jin and Seohyun showed up, Yoongi had shown up the morning after, bruised and battered, the entire operation of the tower being sieged a guise to bait him out and even better if it killed him, and worst of all it worked. 

Well, the bit to draw him out, but evidently he was still very much alive.

“Your Highness?” Yoongi raised his brows a little, not surprised to see you up, but a little concern evident in his eyes.

“I wish to go for a walk.” Your voice was a quiet croak, shaky even.

“Of course.” Yoongi replied.

“Can it be…as if I were by myself?” Your lips turned into a small frown.

Yoongi gave you a weak smile, “You won’t even notice me.” 

You nodded before walking past him, a little ways ahead before you could only assume he melded into the shadows, trailing behind unseen but still within a safe distance.

The corridors were empty, save for a few guards who bowed for you before giving you no grief, everyone looked at you differently though. 

It was evident in their eyes, the way they all warily kept a distance. 

Once upon a time, you had gotten used to your title, the Bitch of Eunoia.

But now they had all taken to calling you something different, something new, the Blood-Devoured Bitch. It was a hybrid name, both of Penumbrian and Eunoian background, sickening and yet flattering all the same, it suited you, you supposed.

Stepping out into the courtyard you innately shivered, ice cold air penetrated easily past your cover, wrapping your arms around yourself you took a big breath of air.

It’s crisp cool entered your lungs like new life, and for a moment you felt better.

Sitting down on the bench you curled into yourself, and suddenly the weight of your soul felt heavy again, you were so tired. A type of tired that sleep would not make go away.

Staring at the moon, you let its light be your only comfort, surely better days would come.

Jungkook couldn’t describe his level of worry for you, you had woken up physically fine, a minor wound to your chest where Di Jin had attempted to kill you. But you yourself were not fine.

You looked haunted, any food put in front of you was left untouched, and even if you did eat, you were unable to keep anything down.

Jungkook thought once Wheein was safe, things would get better. But it was clear to him this was hardly the case and what made it worse was you were isolating yourself now, refusing to talk to him or anyone else.

Wheein had desperately wanted to see you but Jungkook firmly sent her back to Skol demanding she take some time to herself, being in the dungeon for the last three weeks was no good for anybody mentally, especially her.

Meanwhile he was left to pick up the pieces of whatever had happened at the estate, and it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. 

He felt horrible, he wanted you to go to the estate because he thought it was safe, but as it turns out, he nearly sent you to your death. He hadn’t pushed the topic with you, left you alone if you didn’t respond.

He just wanted you to be okay, it pained him seeing you like this. 

You felt unreachable, and it made him feel as if he was literally losing his mind.

But tonight was Sunday, the day the family gathered together for dinner, Jungkook’s hopes were low but he could only hope that you would show up, he was worried and even more so at a loss of what to do, or if he could do anything at all.

You killed Di Jin. 

The Eunoian Princess, who had sworn an oath to never kill, who came from a pacifistic nation, who had divine dryad blood running through her veins, killed someone. 

And Jungkook knew you wouldn’t listen to him, it mattered not that you did it in self defense, it didn’t change the fact that you still broke your oath. Dinner had been quiet, nobody talking and this was to be expected, after all, everyone almost murdered your hand maid, you almost died, and then not only killed Di Jin, the kings oldest and dearest friend, but also Seohyun, Jungkook’s old fiancé.

Guards had gone to the estate to clean up the mess only to find her mangled body, torn apart by a wolf- namely yours.

Perhaps it wasn't directly you, but it mattered not, you would still take the guilt.

The doors opened and Jungkook straightened in his seat, you gave a short courtesy before taking your seat next to him, your eyes looked sunken in and it was evident you hadn’t slept a single night. 

Jungkook could feel it clawing at his chest with the urge to do something, anything, but he knew all too well this would be something you would have to reconcile with yourself, in your own time.

Dinner was quiet and his uncle and aunt only murmured conversation, Jungkook could only let out a quiet sigh as he lifted his goblet to his lips, wine almost never solved his problems but it did help him relax. 

“Yes, apparently a wild pack of dogs attacked Vail yesterday,” Jeong Dae’s voice was quiet, Areum’s eyes on him as she took a sip of her wine.

Their voices were the only one’s at the table that have yet to talk, after all they had always managed to keep the conversation going in these awkward events.

You were twirling your soup in its bowl, having not attempted to eat, eyes strictly somewhere between the table and your food.

“Well there needs to be more guards posted in the outer district’s now that this whole assassin business is finished,” Areum replied, leaning back in her chair, “They had four fatality’s which could’ve been prevented with adequate soldiers number’s.”

“Or perhaps we just need better soldiers,” Jeong Dae mused, “Perhaps our War Matron should make her return.”

You finally gathered a spoonful of your soup, watching the steam rise from it’s surface before you pushed it into your mouth. Jungkook wasn’t trying to stare, but it was difficult to look away when you were having to force every drop of broth down.

Areum scoffed, “Unless war is on the horizon I would rather rot. There was only one guard there, and he was passing through on his patrol.” 

You gathered another spoonful, looking at it once more as if having to mentally prepare yourself. 

“Is a shame though,” Jeong Dae sighed, “It was an absolute mess when I arrived, blood everywhere, one of the poor lad’s had his throat ripped out-”

A loud cough cut off the conversation, all eyes on you as you grabbed your mouth, lurching in your seat as if attempting to not vomit, “Excuse me.” You didn’t even so much as wait for a reply, shoving yourself out of your chair and promptly exiting. 

Jungkook was immediately pushing himself out of his chair, not even saying a word as he quickly followed after you. You probably didn’t want to see him, but he simply couldn’t stand watching you like this. 

He needed to do something, anything. 

“Y/n!” He called out as you rushed down the hall. 

You shook your head as you took a sharp left, going down the stairs towards the cellar, Jungkook quickly stepping down the stairs as he called your name once more. 

It was dark and only candles lit the air, dust could be seen if one got too close, walls of wine and dry goods stored as you turned the corner of a storage wall, weaving towards the very back where surely no one would go. 

Jungkook quickly followed behind, turning the last corner of the storage wall before he sighed out, a dead end with you at the last wall, back still turned but your sobs evident, hands covering your eyes as you tried to regain your breath but struggling to do so. 

It came out in choked wheezes as you coughed and gagged, struggling to calm yourself down, flashes of blood, images of flesh and gore, no matter how many times you washed out your mouth, you could still taste it. 

Raw flesh going down your throat. 

Jungkook finally stopped at your back, unable to find any words, he could only pull you to face him, and he hated it, how it always seemed your face was filled with tears more than smiles, “I can’t get it out!” 

You felt like a helpless child all over again, unable to help yourself let alone anyone else, but you felt so lost, you didn’t know what to do, you had all of these new feelings, all of these new sins you had to carry. 

You let out another sob as Jungkook pulled you in, and you could do nothing but collapse against him as you cried, “I can’t get the taste out! No matter- wh-what I eat, what I drink, I still taste it!” 

Jungkook only soothing hushed you, pressing his lips on top of your head, “I know.” He ushered softly, “I’m sorry.”

His arms wrapped around you tighter as you cried, resting your head into his shoulder, after a few minutes passed you had finally managed to calm your breath into steady.

“I can’t go back, I can’t undo everything I’ve done, I don’t know what to do anymore,” You tried to not weep but the tears slowly began to trickle back down your cheeks as you lamented, “My whole life i’ve been told I’m supposed to save lives,”

You pressed your hands against his jacket, looking up at him, “So why is it, all I ever seem to do is take them?” 

Jungkook tenderly cupped your cheeks in his hands, thumbing the tears away as he pressed his forehead against yours, “I can’t speak for all of your past doings, but I can speak for what happened at the estate, your survival was dependent on your ability to defend yourself. You were forced to do what anybody would do.”

You shook your head in remorse, closing your eyes as you stifled a sob, Jungkook tenderly stroking your cheeks as he continued, “Humans are instinctive creatures, though you are part dryad, it seems violence runs in your veins.” 

You sniffled, “That’s terrifying! You should be terrified. Everyone looks at me differently now, certainly you do as well, I killed the woman who was supposed to be your wife!” 

Jungkook sighed, tenderly tracing your jawline with those long fingers of his, “The only thing that truly terrified me? Was when you walked through those gates covered in blood, and I realized I had unknowingly sent you to your death, unable to be there for you, unable to protect you, failing as a husband. That terrifies me.” 

Your lips trembled as Jungkook’s fingers traced down your neck to your collarbone, “But you? I told you to show me all of you, and that I would take you as you are, my words still stand.” His fingers trailed down the center of your chest, stopping at the covered wound, the mark where Di Jin had attempted to make his finishing blow. 

“How could I be afraid of someone I love?” It was nothing louder than a whisper. 

It caused your gut to wrench as you violently shook your head, “Don’t say that, please don’t say that Jungkook.” You immediately escaped his arms, every step you took back Jungkook closed the gap with another forward. 

“I don’t expect it to be requited, you don’t have to say it back Y/n but I’ve went through all stages of grief about it, I can’t change it,” Jungkook wasn’t backing down though, “I am in love with you and everything I thought I knew about love, everything I thought I knew about women, feelings, all of it, you came into my life and taught me that I was a fool to ever assume as much. I love you.” 

“Stop saying it! Please, you don’t mean that, please don’t say it so easily…”

Your back was pressed against the wall as you shook your head, Jungkook standing tall in front you, delicately leaning down, both his forearms on either side of you as he whispered, “I love you Y/n, and you will not dictate to me whether that is the truth or not. My love for you has been anything but easy, don’t discredit how I feel because I’m the first to admit it.”

“You can’t love me,” You whispered, eyes blurring once more as flashes of Seohyun’s mangled body appeared in your vision. 

“Loving you is like loving the sun,” Jungkook replied softly, “Effortless, and if I’m meant to burn in its light, then I'd die happily in doing so. My precious sun, the light of my life. Let me love you, let me take care of you, let me protect you, let me never leave your side again.”

“Jungkook…”

“I failed you, let you leave my side, sent you to the estate. It’s ultimately my own fault, and I’ll spend the rest of my life redeeming myself for it. But please, don’t punish me anymore,” Jungkook’s eyes sombered, a sort of tender plea in them, “I can’t be apart from you anymore, I’ve tried to give you space, time to think, to heal, but just as you need me, I need you. I need you just like the moon needs the sun.” 

You had no words, unable to speak, overwhelmed by so many different feelings, but one thing you knew for certain was that when you looked at Jungkook, you felt at home. You said nothing, only gently laying your forehead in the crook of his neck, arms wrapping around him. 

Trying to drown out the voices, the memories in his warmth, you were so terribly homesick, and Jungkook was surely your only remedy to this. 

His arms wrapped around you in return, holding you tightly as he pressed a kiss against your head, “It’s selfish, but please, don’t deny me, love me, lay with me, we’re married, but I want you to be my wife.”

“Take me back to our bedroom.” You whispered to him, curling into his warmth as you shuddered, trying so hard to not let the vivid grotesque images back into your mind. 

There was nothing quite like the warmth a bath could offer, steaming wafting from heat and dipping your body in made you realize just how chilled you had become throughout the day. Perhaps the best part was sitting perched in your husband’s lap, head laying on his shoulder as he tended to you.

The warmth of the washcloth running along your body, his hands that had easily taken tens if not hundreds of lives tenderly running through your hair as he washed you, he of course didn’t miss the opportunity to feather your neck in kisses. 

“Is this okay?” He whispered in your ear, you nodded wanting nothing more than for him to keep making you forget, you didn’t want to remember anymore. 

Jungkook was still tenderly cleaning you up, lips occasionally going back to your neck with a few gentle kisses and eventually after bathing you both settled in the water, just enjoying one another’s embrace. 

His fingers tracing circles on your back before running down your waist, squeezing your ass for a moment before his hand would return back up your waist, touching you however he wanted, simply because he could. 

It was a comforting gesture, but it was also evident how aroused you both were, every time his hand would dip under the water, it made your body just a little more excited, feeling his hand gripping your flesh tightly, making you shift a little and the first tiniest audible moan escaping your lips. 

You could feel it briefly, his hardened cock resting against his chiseled abdomen, Jungkook’s lips pressed against your neck once more, this time suckling the skin as his other hand trailing down your waist before gripping the other side of your ass. 

A soft moan escaped your lips, making your hips shift, nudging his cock once more making his lips suckle your skin a little harder, he released the skin after a moment, as if not wanting to mark it, “Let me make you feel good, my little sun.”

His fingers digging into your skin, his tongue dragging on your neck, “Please.” You ushered out a small moan. 

Jungkook’s hand’s suddenly grabbed your waist, “Hold on,” He said and you didn’t understand for a moment until he suddenly picked you up, bringing you out of the water, grabbing one of the towels from off the stool he laid it out on the bed to not get it wet before dropping you down. 

The fire crackled on, the only light source in the room, leaving it dark and warm, but the silhouette of Jungkook’s body was still very evident, his hard cock even more so as he stood tall in front of your figure. 

You felt so small in comparison in this moment, but it didn’t last long as Jungkook leaned down, “You’re so perfect.” He whispered, lips pressing into yours as if he could sense your anxiousness, your body was so pliable though, having his hovering over you protectively. You moaned into the kiss, body relaxing as one of his hands found your thighs, pushing them apart tenderly as you opened them for him.

Your cunt was throbbing and wet, eager to be touched by him as Jungkook broke the kiss, letting his tongue drag down your throat and to your collarbone before he feathered more kisses, pausing at your breasts. 

Jungkook couldn’t resist wrapping his lips around your left tit, this forced a moan from you, hips shifting in need as a hand steady them, as if telling you to be patient, he traded for your right tit next, moaning softly against your skin as if relishing in it. 

“Jungkook…!” You whined softly, watching the explicit sight, your thighs spreading a little more in need. 

Jungkook’s eyes almost glowed in the dark, that icy blue piercing gaze, hazy and filled with lust as he released your tit from his lips, a small lazy smirk tugging on his lips, “Yes, my love?” 

It felt like knots were forming in your stomach, “Love me, you keep saying it, show me how it feels.” 

Jungkook gave you a small smile, “You don’t need to ask me twice.” His lips pressed down your stomach and your body was reacting in all the ways he could hope as he made his way down to your hips, tenderly, slowly, licking up every reaction he got before he settled himself between your thighs. 

Still he seemed to enjoy getting you worked up, lips pressing against your inner thigh making you squirm, your cunt dripping wet as you whined, “Jungkook!” 

His tongue dragged just a little closer to where you wanted it, “What do we say when we want something?” 

“Please…!” 

Jungkook moaned softly as his tongue pressed against your cunt making you let out a moan of relief, his hot wet tongue mixing with your arousal as he pressed against your little opening before dragging it up your slit, right where you wanted it. 

You moaned softly as his tongue pressed against your clit, you shifted onto your forearm, your other hand reaching down to bury in his wet dark locks of hair, his tongue swirling around the tender bud as pleasure shot through your body making your thighs open further for him.

His eyes closed as he moaned against your clit, wrapping his lips around it as if suckling something sweet, it made a sharp whine escape you as you yanked his hair hips lifting for him. 

“Mm Jungkook.” You ushered out softly as his lips parted, tongue lathing against the little bud that had you squirming in pleasure. 

“Relax my love,” Jungkook moaned into your cunt, “Let me make you cum as many times as you please.” 

His fingers snuck down to your cunt as his lips wrapped back around your clit making you whine, his tongue having found a particularly sweet spot that had you grabbing his hair.

His fingers toyed with your little hole at first, letting them get nice and sticky from your arousal before he pushed a digit in, your body immediately reacted, walls clenching around him as a strangled whine left you. 

His lips parted as his tongue lathed your clit, continuously flicking the sweet spot of your bud as you whimpered, your cunt throbbing in pleasure as his finger began to pump inside you, “Relax princess, I got you,” Jungkook’s lidded eyes met yours, and briefly you could see his finger, knuckle deep in your cunt. 

As if noticing this as well a small smirk curled on his lip as he pulled it out, before gathering both his middle and ring finger, pushing it back inside you, it made you wince a little in discomfort, “Shh, give your body to me, I’ll take care of it my love,” Jungkook moaned softly, his cock was rock hard at watching you moan and wither beneath him in pleasure.

Your walls clenching tightly around his fingers as he thrusted them inside you, his lips tenderly pressing into your thigh to soothe you as your body slowly relaxed just as he said.

Your hips slowly lifted in sync with his as you whined, Jungkook buried himself back in your cunt once more, tongue lapping at your little clit, getting the exact reaction he had hoped. 

A loud cry escape you, thighs suddenly wrapping around his head just the way he wanted them too, wanting to be suffocated by your cunt and nothing else, his fingers immediately began pumping rougher inside you as you whined unable to keep yourself supported anymore as you collapsed back against the bed. 

“Koo! Mmm! Please Koo!” Your words were mumbled and whiny as his tongue viciously swirled and suckled your throbbing bud, his fingers suddenly lifting inside you as if in search for something. 

Pleasure was becoming more consistent, more intense as Jungkook's moan vibrated against your clit and his fingers pushing all the way inside you as they lifted once more, the pleasure that suddenly snapped through your body was indescribable, a loud whimper escaping you. 

His name came in shambled shorter variations as you whined and moaned, your walls rapidly squeezing around his fingers as he kept thrusting into the same spot again and again.

Jungkook kept lapping at your clit, finding that sweet spot once more as you withered beneath him, back arching as your mind blurred with pleasure, “Oh..! Oh god, please! Yes! Mmm!” 

Your voice echoed throughout the bedroom loudly as fits of moans  escaped your mouth, lips parted at just how good you felt, “Cum for me, cum all over my fingers sweetheart,” Jungkook moaned before his lips parted against your clit, lazily rubbing into that little spot as his fingers ruthlessly rubbed into that spot inside you. 

And you did. 

Your walls rapidly wrapped around his fingers as he kept shoving them inside you, his tongue attached to your bud, milking your orgasm as unholy noises escaped your lips, mixtures of thanks, of his name, cries to the empty sky. 

It just kept going, the pleasure only heightened as you squealed out, hands digging into his hair as his tongue swirled over your clit, fingers refusing to stop as they hit that same spot inside you over and over again. 

It had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your thighs trembling as you completely gave your body up to him, relaxing into the building sensation inside your cunt as your walls kept squeezing around his fingers, his tongue not stopping on your clit as he suckled it once more. 

His tongue finding just the right spot as it all spiked once more, your moans were shaky and cried out as blind pleasure washed over you once more, cumming all over his fingers but not only that liquid suddenly spewing lewdly from your little hole. 

“Fuuck,” Jungkook moaned, lifting your hips suddenly as his fingers abused your little entrance, hitting that spot over and over again as your body withered against him, “Such a good girl.” 

His fingers finally pulled out of your cunt, your thighs trembling as he set you down, moaning as he kissed your thighs, hands dragging against your waist, “Fuck, I want you so bad sweetheart, wanna fill you up, wanna feel you cum all over my cock.” 

You were heaving deep breathes, trying to comprehend the pleasure you just experienced, you were hazy still as your hand tenderly combed through his hair, “Then do so…” You gazed at him, hazey and the darkness made it difficult to make out his expression, “You said you wanted me to be your wife, then make me your wife.” 

Jungkook’s gaze shot up to you as you weakly smiled, “I want you to be my husband, but we’ve never consummated it. I want to.” 

Jungkook moaned softly, his cock throbbing as he crawled up to you, arms hovering on either side of you as he stared down at you, “You mean it?” 

“Of course I do,” You whispered, hands creeping up his neck and back to his hair once more, pulling him down for a kiss that he would never deny you. 

Jungkook moaned softly into the kiss before he broke it, pressing a kiss against your neck, “It’ll hurt,” He whispered, “But I’ll make sure it doesn’t last long.” 

Jungkook shifted you further up the bed as he sat on his knees, between your thighs as you parted them for him, feeling nervous, but you felt so safe with him, you wanted him, craved him. Jungkook’s fingers brushed over your cunt, puffy and wet as you shuddered. 

His hand was soaked in your arousal as before he wrapped it around his cock, just as big and fat as you remembered. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he pumped his cock in his hand, it made you feel shy as you shifted beneath him. 

“Are you sure?” He murmured, you nodded. 

Grabbing your thighs he pulled you closer to him before he grabbed his cock once more, rubbing the fat weeping head of his cock against your cunt as you let out a shaky exhale, you knew he was big but…he was really big compared to you.

Just the size of his head was nearly as big as your cunt itself, “Jungkook I don’t…-”

“It’ll fit.” He reassured, a little amused, pulling the head of his cock to your little entrance before attempting to push it in. 

You winced in pain as you shifted, you weren’t sure how you expected this to go, it really wasn’t something you had ever fantasized about. But the first attempt was lackluster due to the fact that he indeed was not getting it in.

Jungkook’s nose wrinkled, “Ugh fuck. Hold on,” He whispered, shifting a little more, setting your thighs a top of his a little more, lining his cock back up to your entrance as he pushed once more. 

He pushed the fat head of his cock against your entrance once more, this time however, you let out a yelp, the sensation almost burning as you shifted in discomfort against him, “Ah…! Fuck that hurts.” You let out a weak whine, biting down on your lip hard. 

And it did, all you could focus on was how much it ached and burned having your walls pushed open by something so large and foreign.

Jungkook leaned down, arms on either side of you as he pressed feathery kisses into your neck, “I’m sorry, my love,” His whisper was strained, “Just let yourself relax, it won’t last long.” He let out a slight shaky moan as he pushed himself just a little deeper inside you.

You tried to let yourself relax as much as possible, but your brows were still pinching together and it was difficult for it to not hurt when he was just really that big. 

Jungkook suddenly pulled out of you making you sigh in relief, Jungkook pressed another comforting kiss against your neck as he pushed the head of his cock back inside, only this time, it wasn’t nearly as painful, a little discomfort of having something foreign inside your body. 

But it wasn’t nearly as bad, Jungkook’s muscles were completely tensed and his breath was shaky as he buried his face into your neck with a moan, “Fuck sweetheart, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me.” 

Jungkook his deep raspy words in your ear made your walls squeeze around him, making him push a little deeper inside you as you let out a soft whine, shifting your hips as if trying to take more of him. 

Jungkook could feel this, immediately pushing his cock deeper inside you, “Oh my god,” He whispered, “Fucking perfect, perfect cunt, perfect body, perfect for me. Look at that little cunt, taking me so well.” 

You whined at his hips thrusting a little, as if testing the water’s, “Koo…mmm!” Your eyes snapped shut at feeling his cock splitting your walls open, hitting all the right places.

Jungkook moaned as his hips slowly began to thrust, his cock still not fully inside you but with each thrust it got a little closer, “Feels so warm, so little, fuck, keep wrapping around me like that love.” 

His shaft rubbed right into that sweet spot that had you moaning, legs wrapping around his waist, your cunt felt so full and yet wanted so much more, Jungkook’s hips were becoming a little faster, “Such a perfect cunt, mine. All mine.” There was a hint of possessiveness in his words. 

Your hands dug in his hair, “All yours.” You whimpered out quietly as your body started jolting, his hips becoming rougher at the words, “Your cunt, yours.” 

Jungkook let out a rough moan, deep and raw as if those words made him all hot and bothered, “Fuck yeah it is,” He suddenly growled in your ear, “You’re my fuckin’ wife, my cunt to play with, my cunt to make cum again and again. Mine.” 

You suddenly whimpered at feeling his cock going deeper inside you, your eyes shutting as you moaned for him, knowing he wanted to hear them, knowing how much he liked to see you in pleasure, “Mmm! Like that.” 

“Oh? Like this?” He smirked against your skin as he thrusted particularly harsh, his cock going deep inside you once more, your walls rapidly clenching around him as you moaned, nails dragging against his back. 

“What about this?” He murmured in your ear, pushing his hips all the way until they met yours, his cock completely buried in your warm little cunt as you shakily moaned, eyes squeezing shut at how deep he was inside, how thick and fat his cock was, completely splitting open your walls. 

“Mmm fuck, yeah.” You ushered softly, creaming all over his cock, arousal coating it as your walls squeezed around him, you had finally found heaven, it was Jungkook buried inside your cunt. 

Jungkook moaned as well, feeling how tight your walls squeezed around him in pleasure, as if suddenly starved Jungkook grabbed your thigh, bringing it over his shoulder as his hips shifted, rapidly thrusting into you as you yelped in surprise. 

But pleasure was immediately blooming side you, his shaft rubbing all the right spots, balls slapping against your skin as you whimpered for him, “Oh! Right there, yeah! Yes, god…!” 

Jungkook moaned, “Fuck yeah, squeeze around me baby, know you wanna cum on it, cum all over this fat cock, gonna fill you up until your dripping.” 

Your hips lifted with his, moaning at how good it felt, his cock roughly dragging in and out of you, pushing your walls open with each thrust, “Mmm wanna cum all over it.” 

Jungkook moaned, thrusting particularly hard this time making you whine before he suddenly shifted, letting go of your thigh as he suddenly sat up right, but dragging you with him, his cock pulling out of you as you whined. 

Thighs trembled and uncertain of this new position as Jungkook sat you in his lap, immediately grabbing his cock as he pushed it back inside you, except you were a little awkward, “Mm Koo I don’t-”

“Like this love.” Jungkook moaned, grabbing your hips as he lifted them, this new position made you feel him in an entirely new way, your lips parting as an involuntary moan escaped you, trying to mimick the way his hips guided you. 

Sliding down his cock as you moaned, feeling how deep he was inside you, your walls rapidly clenched, Jungkook’s hands tightened around your ass, “Fuck yeah sweetheart, can feel you wrapping around it, cum.” His head suddenly dove down, lips parting on your right tit as he suckled it harshly making you cry out, walls clenching around him as you lowered your hips all the way down. 

Your arousal dripping on his balls as he lifted you, fucking you on his cock as you whined pathetically, not of much use when he fucked you like this, his lips suckled your tit harshly once more, “Cum,” He growled, his hand suddenly smacking your right ass cheek making you yelp. 

Your body however, loved that feeling of pain, your cunt squeezing around his cock as he roughly bounced you on it, “Like that? Like getting spanked sweetheart?” Jungkook grinned deviously, suddenly smacking your ass even harder, your body reacting to it as your walls clenched harder around him. 

“Mmm! M’ gonna cum..Koo!” You whimpered out, all the sensations overwhelming you as Jungkook continued to bounce you on his cock, pushing you deeper on him as he smacked your ass once more, this time hitting just under the cheek, the pain mixed with the pleasure as you moaned loud, walls squeezing rapidly around his cock. 

Your lips parted as you came all over his fat shaft, being bounced roughly as Jungkook moaned, “Fuck yeah, thats it princess,” Jungkook moaned, wrapping his around around your waist as he laid back on the bed, bring you with him a top as his hips lifted, rapidly thrusting up inside you, this orgasm was much deeper, more powerful as he continued to bottom out inside you making sure he was completely buried inside you.

“Fuck my love, that’s it.” Jungkook ushered a moan, you felt it before you heard it, something indescribably warm shooting deep inside your cunt, “Mm that’s it, take it like the good girl you are.” 

You let out the tiniest whine, burying your head in his shoulder as he let out a deep sigh of contentment, relishing in his orgasm, how long had he imagined holding you like this?

His lips tugged into a lopsided smile as his eyes opened, looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world, as if in deep admiration, love.

You supposed that look in his eyes, could only be described adequate as love, “My goddess,” He mused, fingers trailing your face, his hand trailed down your side before grabbing your hand, the skin discolored in large patches. 

Jungkook pressed his lips against the palm before tenderly planting a kiss on each finger, the gesture was so full of love it made your eyes fill with tears that did not shed, his lips pressed against your wrist, “The love of my life, I know I cannot change the past,”

Jungkook laid you both on your side as he wrapped his arm around you, “But we will get through this together.”

You weren’t sure what it was, the earnest look in his eyes, the pure devotion in his voice, but you believed him, you wholeheartedly believed him, “We will.” You whispered back, leaning in to press your lips against his.

It was filled with nothing but sweetness, tenderly pressing over yours as he let out a soft moan, his hand finding its home around your neck, not squeezing but simply holding it, “My wife.” He moaned against the kiss, “My beautiful wife. I don’t think there will ever be a day I don’t love you. Sleep, and if you wake, I’ll be here to hold you.” 

Sleep did not come easily, Jungkook had managed to get you both under the warm covers, scaring off whatever little coldness that had tickled your skin, the last hour before he fell asleep had been silent, his fingers tracing circles against your back, enjoying one another's warmth. 

You had eventually fell asleep but dreams you could not remember had plagued you back awake, your eyes were tired but you could see blue light streaming in from the window, it wouldn’t be long before your day would begin. 

Still, you laid dozing off enjoying your Jungkook who hadn’t let go of you the whole time, skin to skin contact soothing, you had rolled onto your stomach, letting the weight of his body near on top of you soothe your eyes back shut. 

Shifting a little to get comfortable this must have accidentally awoke him as you felt a gentle kiss press on your shoulder a sleepy groan escape his lips, “How long have you been awake?” He mumbled, his voice quiet, deeper and raspier than normal. 

“...Not too long, I’ve woken up multiple times though.” You whispered, keeping your eyes shut as you felt his hand slowly stroke your waist. 

You would never say it out loud, but you could definitely get use to being petted like this.

“You should’ve woke me up,” Jungkook pressed another kiss against your skin, this time your neck, “Let us lay together in silence.” 

“We could be laying in silence right now.” You offered a tiny tired smile though you weren’t sure he could see it. 

“We could.” Jungkook murmured, his lips pressing onto your neck once more, this time parting as his tongue tenderly lapped over your skin, the act itself made your breath hitch, body stirring as you tilted your head, letting him have more access to your skin. 

You kept your eyes closed, allowing him to give you open mouthed kisses over your neck, not too long in each spot to be mindful of marking, his tongue delicately tracing over each patch just enough to tease. 

It seemed he finally got what he wanted out of you, a tiny moan as he shifted you both, now spooning you, your bare ass promptly snug against his hard cock, his lips suckling the skin of your neck as his hand snaked over your waist, grabbing a handful of your tit as he pinched your nipple. 

You whined as you rubbed back against him a little, this made his hand immediately grab your hip, squeezing it to stay still before it hooked over your thigh to lift it, your cunt glossy and wet, dried cum staying your thighs no doubt. 

Your face felt hot and flush and suddenly the covers that had kept you warm were like an inferno, Jungkook shifted, grabbing his cock as he let his fat weeping head rub along your puffy slit. 

A small breath escaped you as he rubbed it over your sensitive clit before back to your little entrance, and then pushing it in, your brows pinched together in discomfort, his size still big for your body to adjust too. 

“Shhh,” He whispered against your neck, moaning softly as his hips started thrusting, his cock pushing further inside you as you whined, “Fuck, can’t believe this pussy is all mine,” Jungkook ushered quietly, “Mine to fuck, mine to love, mine to cum inside. Mine.” 

You moaned against the pillow, your walls squeezing tight around his cock as he thrusted further inside you before pushing all the way in, his shaft rubbing just the right way inside you, “Mmm, Jungkook.” You moaned quietly. 

You could feel his wicked smirk on your skin, hips suddenly thrusting rough up into you, his cock throbbing as his balls smacked against your skin, “Moan my name, only mine. Want everyone to hear, to know how good I fuck you.” 

You bit down on your lip at his hips thrusting at a steady but rough pace, each time pulling almost out of you only to shove all the way back in, the fat head of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you each time. 

“That's right sweetheart, cream all over it, wanna feel this pretty little cunt cum all over my cock,” Jungkook moaned in your ear, that deep rasp in his voice had your clit throbbing and your walls wrapping around him as you whined. 

Overwhelmed by how big he was, how good it felt you nearly cried out at the feeling of his cock pulling out of you, your muscles tensed as your eyes snapped open at being robbed of your pleasure. 

Jungkook had a sleepy smirk on his face as he sat upright against the headboard, pulling the covers off to reveal his fat, proud cock, glossy with your arousal as he offered you a hand, “Come sit on your throne my goddess.” 

Your body felt hot in all kinds of ways as you took his hand before slowly crawled to him, Jungkook however manhandled you to sit on his lap, your back pressing into his chest as he pried your thighs apart, the position was all too familiar as you whined. 

“Jungkook…!” 

“Remember what I said last time?” Jungkook pressed a long kiss against your neck, shifting you as he grabbed his cock, gleaming coated in your arousal as he pushed the head back inside you, an audible moan from you echoing in the room as you watched in arousal and horror at how much he was splitting your cunt. 

Your body could do nothing but sink down on it, whines and whimpers escaping you once again at just how thick his cock was, finally meeting the base as your body rested against his, Jungkook however had different plans, grabbing your thighs to lift them a little as he suddenly starting thrusting. 

His fast pace took you off guard as you gurgled a moan, eyes unable to look at anything except his cock pulling in and out of your cunt, covered in slick arousal as you felt his shaft squeezing past your soft warm walls each time, hitting up into your sweet spot that had you moaning. 

“You like watching?” Jungkook grinned, a breathy moan escaping him as his chin rested on your shoulder, eyes hazy as he watched his cock push all the way inside you, “Like being made to take this big fat cock while being made to watch.”

Jungkook’s eyes squeezed shut at how hard your walls suddenly clenched around him, taking everything in him to not cum this very moment, “You’re so fucking little,” He groaned, fingers digging into your thighs, “Love feeling that pretty little cunt wrap around me, heh yeah like that fuuck.” 

His fingers found your clit rubbing them as you yelped out, walls rapidly clenching around him in a feeling that he was quickly starting to familiarize himself with, it made his cock throb in pleasure as he lifted once more, shifting you both a little so you laid back more against his chest, thrusting harder and faster this time as he pressed your clit between his fingers. 

“Mmph! Koo-! Fuck, ah! Yes! Oh god, like that, please! Please!” Moans escaped you incohesively, surrendering your body to him as he fucked you roughly, hips snapping up into yours, his cock stretching out your walls each time. 

Jungkook’s fingers toyed with your throbbing clit, “Thats it, moan, let them know who’s taking care of this pretty pussy, who’s filling you up with cock right now,” His hips drilling into you as he watched his cock snap in and out of your cunt each time, “Look, watch.” He growled in your ear. 

Your eyes opened as you moaned, your cunt puffy and wet, stretching for him with more ease now than before, Jungkook’s hips slowed down, “You like watching yourself get fucked?” 

Your throat felt dry and your body hot as his hips sensually moved, slower, deeper, making sure you felt every thrust of his hips as his cock buried deep in your cunt, “Answer.” 

“Yes,” You stammered, whining a little at his cock burying inside you once more but this time not pulling out immediately after, “Like watching.” You whined quietly. 

Jungkook had a wicked grin on his lips, “You like it? Being fucked by the wicked prince?” His thrusts were short, keeping his cock as deep inside you as he could, your walls clenched at the short snapped sensation, “Like it when I cum deep inside this pretty virgin cunt of yours?”

Pleasure was building rapidly in your body, your walls squeezing tightly around him each time, watching his long thick fingers rub into your clit, finding that sweet little spot that had you gasping a whine.

“Yes, yeah, fuck, mmm! Fuck Koo, gonna…!” Your body was contorting as his cock pushed all the way inside you once more.

“I remember that little mouth of yours our wedding night, remember wanting nothing more then to bend you over and stuff you full of cock,” Jungkook moaned, hips becoming sloppy, thrusts uneven, some slow, some rough, “Fuck you so hard all you’d be able to do was thank me. But look at you now.” 

Jungkook smiled against your shoulder, “My pretty wife letting me fuck her tiny little cunt, letting me ruin the little virgin dryad princess. Fuck yeah, that’s it, cum all over it my love. Cum all over this cock.”

You were moaning so loud, surely people out in the halls could hear, and it only turned Jungkook on further, his cock buried inside you with the need to make sure you kept moaning, needing others to hear, to know that you were his. 

His thrusts were short, keeping buried deep in your cunt as his fingers kept rubbing into the sweet spot of your clit, your walls rapidly clenching around his base as he buried into you once more before you came. 

Jungkook let out a loud moan as your walls squeezed him so tight he was unable to thrust, pleasure was contorting in every part of your body as you came all over his cock just as he wanted, your clit throbbing in pleasure as Jungkook tenderly rubbed into it, milking every last bit of pleasure he could.

“God I love the way your cunt wraps around me,” He murmured, eyes tightly shut at the sensation, what he had dreamed of for so long now, the feeling of your cunt squeezing tight around him, begging to be filled with his cum. 

The feeling was still foreign, having something warm and slightly sting as it roped inside you, his hands squeezing your thighs tight as he came, moaning softly in your shoulder, you both were heaving breathes.

Jungkook pressed a flutter of light kisses against your neck, fingers tracing your thighs, is fingerprints still prominent in them, “So that’s what you meant…” 

“Hm?” Jungkook hummed out, nose nudging your neck in a loving manner, his fingers tracing over the skin that was slowly discoloring. 

“You…once told me bruising could be attractive, is this what you meant?” You whispered, voice raspy a little humored. 

You could feel the tiny smile on your neck, “Maybe. Maybe not, do you find it attractive?” 

“Do you?” 

Jungkook’s fingers continued to trace over the marks, “When they’re mine,” He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, “They’re the most attractive.”

You had gotten distracted though, his cock slipping out of you and cum oozing from your entrance you squirmed in discomfort, your face felt warm at the lewd sight.

“Mmm, that’s even more attractive though,” Jungkook moaned softly, his index finger scooping it back up before pushing it back in making you squirm.

“Jungkook…!” You whined out, immediately closing your legs.

He chuckled as he pressed a kiss against your head, “Let me grab a washcloth and get you cleaned up.” 

Jungkook shuffled you out of his lap before standing up with a groan, grabbing his undershort that had never gotten worn last night as he put them on, grabbing a washcloth from the stool, walking back over to bed where you had shuffled, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed as you sat naked on his bed.

It didn’t matter if you both had just finished laying together and his cum dripped between your thighs. 

Jungkook looked down at you for a long moment before a smile curled on his lips, “Are you going to let me see?”

“I…can clean myself.” You replied flustered, unable to look at those pretty blue eyes of his. 

“What kind of partner would I be if I made you do that?” Jungkook snorted, grabbing your legs as he pulled you closer, it made you squeak now at the edge of the bed.

You thighs parting only a little for him, but he had quickly made it more as he pulled them further apart, his tongue grazing his lips at the sight before the warm wet cloth dragged over your thighs, his hands were attentive and gentle as he cleaned you up. 

Jungkook had gotten himself halfway dressed and had just gotten your slip on just in time for the timely knock on the door, Taehyun’s voice on the otherside.

Jungkook had allowed him to come in, bowing to you both before going to Jungkook’s wardrobe, “Would you like for me to send for a maid to help the Princess?” Taehyun asked, you could tell he had to have known something was up but obviously not about to ask. 

“No,” Jungkook replied, leaving your side as he walked over to Taehyun, “I’ll help her get ready for the day.” 

Taehyun said nothing more aside from going over the duties Jungkook would need to attend today as he got him dressed, you had fidgeted in bed, eyes glancing at the window as light began to filter in, brighter than usual. 

You would be expected to carry out your duties today as well, the rebuilding of the market had slowed down since winter had approached and Jeong Dae had warned you the building would be very slow in the winter, but to be patient. 

You also had to meet with a few noble houses today to discuss resources once more, just the idea exhausted you. It had been nearly a week since the incident and yet it felt as though a day hadn’t past. 

You hadn’t even noticed when the door had been shut. 

“You’re in your head again.” Jungkook frowned, staring down at you, fully dressed in black today.

“So much has happened since we married,” You frowned as you looked at the window once more, “It’s difficult to not these days.” 

You parted your lips but no words came, uncertain of how to express your feelings, Jungkook patiently waited as he turned away from you walking to your wardrobe, most of your clothes had been taken out, but evidently he had somehow managed to keep most of your winter wardrobe here. 

“I knew it would be difficult, when we married and I would move here, leaving my land behind. I had two years of mental preparation for what may happen,” You sighed softly as you glanced at your hands, flipping them over to look at your discolored palms, “I had mainly prepared myself to be killed here. And yet…somehow, it never occured to me that living might possibly be worse. That living and yet, unable to recognize myself, would be a thousand times worse than death.”

You felt alienated from yourself, perhaps deep down you always knew you were capable of murder, the rage so deep in your bones that certainly it would strike a god down, but to have done it? 

To go against everything your nation stood for? The oath you had so proudly taken as a little girl, your mothers eyes beaming down at you with pride. 

Jungkook set the material out on the bed he had gathered before kneeling down in front of you, gently taking your hands in his, “Or perhaps this is just another side of you, something different, something new, change is uncomfortable. Growth is painful. I remember my first time…” 

Your eyes slowly moved, meeting his as he frowned, “I was nothing more than a child, holding a sword too big, he was a grown man. It was one of our drill sergeants in training, he had despised the Jeon name and had taken to treating me as nothing more then dirt beneath his boots.”

Jungkook sighed, “He had been ruthlessly sparring with me, going as far as kicking me into the ground well past my attempt of surrender. And then he stopped, and just stared at him before laughing, saying I was pathetic, that I’d never live a day in battle. And like that he just turned his back and walked away.” 

Jungkook’s eyes dropped, “I don’t even know what possessed me, but he kept laughing as he called out to his little friend that he was done with the Jeon Scum, suddenly I had unsheathed the dagger in my hand and ran at him.” 

“And?” You whispered out.

Jungkook shrugged, “I don’t remember much of it anymore, I’ve been told I stabbed him over fourteen times though, I was covered in blood by the end of it and I only remember crying in the bathtub while washing myself.” 

Your heart painfully squeezed for him, he couldn’t have been older than ten? Nobody would ever be fit to kill, let alone a child, “Were there consequences?” 

Jungkook shook his head, “Areum had given me a light slap on the wrist, extra watch duty, less rations, things of that nature. But being the prince gave me certain privilege,” He a bitter smile grew on his face, “I think that was the first time my father ever told me he was proud of me. Said I had great promise on the battlefield and that I was meant to rule.” 

“You say it with such disdain.” You frowned. 

Jungkook sighed as he stood up, grabbing the dress he had picked out for you, a purple dress with long thick velvet sleeves, the material was sheer and thin but he had grabbed a thick under slip to pair with it. 

Jungkook pulled the slip over your head, “Do you want my honest words on it?” 

“Of course I do.” You whispered out, eyes meeting his as he pulled the material down. 

“I’ve never had the desire to rule,” Jungkook said it no more than a whisper, “I don’t want the crown, I don’t want to be king.” He ushered it as if it was a crime, but suddenly he looked a little relieved as if this was the first he had ever voiced it, “I don’t want those responsibilities that come with it…”

Jungkook held your dress in his hands as his brows furrowed, “...I don’t want to be like my father.”

He spoke it as if that was the underlying reason, you stood up in front of him before wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him, “You’re nothing like him.” You whispered out, his hands wrapping around you as he squeezed you tight, nose burying in your hair. 

Jungkook broke away only a little as his forehead pressed against yours, “But then I think about you, crown on top of your head, the way you visit the outer districts, redistribute what's left that the royals waste, how you sacrificed something so sacred to you…” His hand grabbed your own, pulling it towards his lips as he pressed a kiss against your palm, “And I think about how you were made to be a queen, and if I were to rule by your side…then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.” 

“Truthfully?” You whispered back, looking up at him with a soft smile, “It doesn’t matter to me, as long as I’m with you.”

Jungkook only smiled, fingers tracing your neck as he gave a flutter of kisses to the palm of your hand before he let go of you, grabbing the gown as he helped you change, tentatively lacing the back of your dress before turning you around. 

A sort of satisfied look on his face as if he had made the right choice, “Leave your hair down today, it looks nice like this.” 

“Jungkook…” You gave him a look, you felt incomplete if you didn’t have your hair braided or styled at all. 

“Indulge me today.” Jungkook replied with a sort of saccharine dripping off his tongue you had never heard before, pulling the velvet gloves over your hands.

You hated how much he had so easily convinced you as you sighed, shaking your head, “Very well, anything else.” 

He nodded walking to your jewelry box once more, “I didn’t say anything, but it didn’t mean that I didn’t notice.” Jungkook walked back over to you, gently grabbing your left hand lifting it up as he held out the large black ring, your wedding ring, “Wear it with pride.” 

Jungkook slid it on your ring finger making you smile as you glanced down at it, you had worn it a few times in the past, but it felt different letting him put it on you.

Your lips slowly fell though, “...I’m not ready for today.” You whispered out, Jungkook had been completely taken you away from your sickening thoughts for the last twelve hours, and soon you would have to return to reality. 

Jungkook frowned as his fingers traced along your neck, “It’ll be over soon my love.” He ushered quietly before leaning in, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips, your eyes closing as you leaned into his warm touch, fingers curling around your throat as you let out the softest moan. 

Jungkook refused to let this go further though, letting his hand drop as he broke the kiss, “If the day gets hard, you know where to find me.” 

Your day had become tones of gray, monotonous without having even realized it, your mind was elsewhere and nobles had looked at you with mixed reactions, some in fear, some in disgust. After all, they had all seen you, seen what you had done, what you were capable of.

You had been hold up in the library the last hour and a half though, reading up on some of the policies for building that had a headache beginning to turn up in your head.

Flipping the page you had went to drink your tea only to find it ice cold, the fire crackled at the far end of the library, but here in the nook you had found it towards the window was cold. 

Time had passed more than you had realized when you found your husband standing at the front of the table, looking at you expectantly. 

You glanced up from your book, “Are you finished with your duties already?” He usually worked later than this.

Jungkook’s nose wrinkled, “I’ve been done for over an hour, it’s nearing seven Y/n.” 

Your eyes widened as you glanced out the window, realizing it was dark outside before you looked back at him, “I’m sorry I didn’t even realize…”

Jungkook rounded the table, fingers dragging to your book before shutting it, “Enough of burying yourself in work.”

You frowned before you glanced up at him, “Do you have something in mind for us then?”

“Dinner,” Jungkook replied with a tilt of his head, “But first come, we should check on Fenrir and…you’ll enjoy the walk.” 

You took the hand he offered you before hooking onto his arm as you both walked down the hall, it was a quiet night but the glances maids and nobles alike didn’t surpass you, the looks never went away. 

You tried your best to ignore them as you entered to the courtyard, lips parting as you both stepped out.

Large fluffy snowflakes fell from the sky, almost shimmering against firelight as they softly landed on the ground, small piles of powder already forming as you looked around, enchanted at the sight, “It’s snowing…!” Your lips twisted into a smile, “I’ve never seen snowflakes so large…” 

Jungkook’s eyes softened on you as he smiled, “I figured so, it’s our first of many snowfall to come this winter. I thought you might like to see it.” 

Jungkook had led you down to the stables but your eyes were still captivated by the sky, filled with little white puffs that gracefully landed onto the ground, a loud whine however brought you back as you frowned. 

“Oh my sweet boy,” You ushered out softly at the sight of seeing Fenrir limp towards you, large tail wagging behind him as you reached out for his face, tenderly rubbing his snout before planting a kiss atop his head, “I’m sorry I haven’t visited you today.” 

“I saw him this morning, I let him loose while watching the guards spar,” Jungkook said, “He’s healing, by the time we travel for Yule he’ll be good as new.” 

He reached out, giving a firm pat to Fenrir’s side, “We’ll be taking him with us?” You glanced back at him in surprise. 

“Wolves will be roaming for food no doubt by the time we leave, it would be most safe to have him with us to scare off any predators.” Jungkook replied with a nod, “...He’s also bound to you, the grief he’d give royal staff would be something I’d never hear the end of from my father.” 

You gave him a guilty smile, “I wouldn’t want to part with him either.” Fenrir had managed to lick your face causing a quiet giggle to escape you as you leaned away from him, lovingly stroking his neck. 

You had gone inside his pen to straighten out his blankets and to pull out one more thicker one, now that it was snowing you were certain the winter nights would be long and cold, you truly did wish the castle would let him stay inside. 

After spending a few minutes with Fenrir you let out a soft sigh, wishing to not have to depart from him so soon, but your duties had kept you all day, and tomorrow would most likely not be much better. 

Fenrir as if sensing this let out a whine, his ears flattening against his head and his tail fell, “Don’t look like that,” You whispered out, your heart aching for him as you rubbed his ears, “I’ll be back tomorrow, and maybe Jungkook will let you out again.”

“We’ll see,” Jungkook replied neutral, “Inside Fenrir.” 

It was a soft command the Fenrir hesitated to listen too, “Inside.” Jungkook repeated more firm making the wolf whine once more as he went back into his pen, making circles before he laid down, another high pitched whine escaping him. 

“I’ll be back soon.” You whispered before kissing his head once more, closing his gate as you tried to not let his whines make you sad. 

Jungkook had extended his elbow out to you once more as you took it, sighing with a frown as you gave the pen one last look, “It’s only a day, he’ll survive.” 

“I still don’t know why we can’t keep him in the castle…” Your words trailed off at the sight ahead. 

A silvery cloaked figured and…Wheein, bundled up in a green cloak, cheeks rosy pink from the chill as you both paused, it hadn’t been fair that you hadn’t even gotten to see her since she had been trialed. 

You had immediately left Jungkook’s side, “Wheein!” 

Tears filling your eyes as she met you halfway, “Y/n! I’m so, so incredibly sorry!” She whispered out as you both embraced, tears of joy, tears of relief, you weren’t sure, but seeing her in person, being able to tightly hug her. 

It had all suddenly rushed in your mind, that what you had committed, why you had done it, it wasn’t just for your own survival, but it was for the survival of someone else, your arms squeezed around her. 

You broke away from her, grabbing her hands in our own as you both looked at one another, Wheein immediately noticing your tiredness, “Are you okay?” She whispered out. 

“You were nearly executed, I should be asking you that.” You frowned. 

“But you…” Wheein couldn’t bring herself to say the words, the silence loud as you looked away from her. 

Your eyes dropped down to her own gloved hands before finally back at her, “You are alive, and so am I. I will be okay…with time.” 

“You should be at home resting with your family Wheein.” Jungkook had decided to step into the conversation, words softly reprimanding.

“I couldn’t stay away any longer, not after everything that has happened. I owe you both my life, and I wanted to give my thanks for all you have done for me. As well as…” Wheein frowned disapprovingly as she turned to the cloaked figure.

Taehyung. 

“I’ve heard about the ill-spoken words.” Wheein stared him down as she let go of her hands, taking a few steps back as she gestured the man over. 

Taehyung frowned, scratching his cheek as he shuffled in front of you, “What I accused you of Princess…I cannot take back my words, but all I can do is ask for your forgiveness.” 

You gaped as he dropped to one knee, bowing his head, “I spoke without thinking and let my emotions get the better of me.” 

“Taehyung…” You whispered softly, true his words had wounded you but you couldn’t entirely blame him, you had no idea what would do if Jungkook was in such a similar situation, “While your words hurt, being upset like that is understandable. We were all afraid of what would happen, I would never hold it against you.”

“Stand up Taehyung,” Jungkook spoke, his eyes not quite as kind as yours but it seemed he had a similar line of thought, “While your words were border treason…” He trailed off, glancing down at you briefly, “If the love of my life was also on death's doors, there’s no telling the hell I would raise. 

“Love of your life?” Wheein squeaked out, clearly embarrassed at the comparison, but it made a soft smile tug on your lips.

Taehyung bowed at this, “I won’t speak out of line again. I still hope to one day serve as your hand Your Highness.” 

Jungkook snorted, “We’ll see about that. Now you need to escort Wheein back-”

“With all do respect,” Wheein spoke up, a small shy smile on her face, “I would like to return from my leave early, I would like nothing more then to be back in service to the Princess once more.” 

Jungkook frowned disapprovingly but you had spoke before he did, “You are always welcomed to return Wheein, your company would be a light that I need right now.”

Jungkook sighed, “Very well, then return to your quarters for the night,” He began walking, pulling you along with him, “And we’ll see you in the morning.”

Snow fell quietly and you could hear the owls trill out, your heart feeling just a little more light, the road ahead would be only just as treacherous, but with Jungkook by your side, and the friends you had made. 

You could only hope it would be enough. 

#bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook smut #prince!jungkook #prince!jungkook x reader #bts au #jungkook imagine

[ashessonfire]

Hello, i have a potential kaz x reader request for you!! I, for some reason, love the idea of a very soft/domestic kaz moment with reader who isn’t involved in the crime life. So what about y/n being married to kaz and for some reason she makes her way down to the crow club (maybe someone broke into the house or something) and kaz is extreamly confused and concerned and the rest if the crows are like "andddd who are you?"

if you don't feel it, feel free to ignore!

'Intruder' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - Kaz is a highly secretive man, even to his closest friends, but what happens when a panicked citizen rushes into the Crow Club demanding his presence? It could even suggest that he had the ability to love. - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Civilian!Reader (Gender neautral)(married for at least a few years but not specified) - Warnings: Thief enters readers house, brief mention of fighting and injury, a knife?? Kaz just being super soft for you! <333 PART TWO NOW POSTED! (click here) - A/N: Thank you for ALL the love on the last post, and my first fic ever! I hope this does just as well and its enjoyed too. I know its not as fluffy as maybe expected but i really like how it turned out. PLEASE KEEP REQUESTING!!(some moonknight coming soon) <3333

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The chilling wind of Ketterdam rushed past your face, adding to your already watering eyes that couldn’t stop frantically searching around for further threats.

You had been enjoying a quiet morning, browsing the market, drinking tea with friends, and even finding a new hat for Kaz. All was serene, until you turned the lock in the front door, only to be confronted by a menacing figure, knife gripped in one hand, Kaz’s favourite (and most expensive) tea set in the other.

A small gasp escaped you, before your mind took control, rushing forward to land a harsh blow directly on the figure’s nose, just at the right angle like Kaz had demonstrated.

He let out a murderous scream whilst dropping the tea set onto the ground, the shattering of the pieces echoing in your heart and mind. However, this granted you enough time to grab the edge of his jacket and pull him through the doorframe, using every ounce of your strength.

He stumbled down the steps of the small apartment, loosing his footing and falling rapidly, landing brutally on the cobblestone street below and roaring in pain as a jolting crack resounded from where he landed.

Without thinking, you scrambled inside, bolted the door, and ran as fast as you possibly could out of the side entrance, internally crying as your boots struggled through the remains of your husband's most beloved item.

As you struggled through the tight alleyway, you prayed that the Stadwatch had noticed the commotion and apprehended the man. As you bolted down the poorly lit streets of the barrel, thoughts of terror began plaguing your mind.

What if Kaz hadn’t taught you to defend yourself? What if you had reacted too slowly? Would Kaz be angry with you for not finishing the job? How would ‘Dirtyhands’ react to your utter horror at one intruder?

You were abruptly ripped from your thoughts by the unmistakable image of a crow, hanging magnificently above the crowded street. Pushing your way through the crowd, you suppressed the nerves rising in your chest, threatening to choke you, as you entered the crow club for the first time.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

The unmistakable smell of alcohol and smoke clouded your senses immediately, as crowds of ‘pigeons,’ as Kaz may call them, wandered around the floor without a care for others around them.

As frightening as the previous events had been, you didn’t allow yourself to be overwhelmed by this too, shoving your violently shaking hands into your pockets to stop the visible nerves from showing.

Jesper and Wylan sat in close proximity at the bar edge, as far from the yelling and cheering of the customers as they possibly could. Your gazed locked onto the face of the tall Zemeni man, thinking back to the hundreds of times Kaz’s mask had slipped, and he had spoken fondly of his best friend.

Despite Kaz’s firm objection to verbal communication, he often fell victim to your warmth and comfort, his affections for his crew spilling into casual conversation, almost subconsciously. Of course, the Bastard of the Barrel couldn’t hold onto something as weak as friendship. However, this meant that you were very familiar with each of his ‘crows,’ despite never officially meeting any of them.

Mustering all the courage you could, you sucked in a sharp breath, preparing yourself for the challenging journey to your last hope at finding him.

You weaved your way cautiously between the rowdy groups, dodging drunken gestures and swinging arms, until you reached the pair sat at the bar, panic spreading through your body like wildfire. You made note to keep your hands firmly tucked within the safety of your jacket, in a feeble attempt to keep up a façade of confidence.

As their gazes turned towards you, you gently cleared your throat in the hopes of removing any indication of fright, and in turn, weakness from your voice.

“I’m looking for Kaz? Kaz Brekker?” you stuttered out, eyes darting around to avoid the quizzical gazes of the two men in front of you. Under different circumstances you wished to have met them when your usual air of joy blanketed not only you, but all of those who encountered you too. Yet it seemed like the Saints weren't on your side for that wish today.

You were snapped back from your thoughts, as they glanced at each other, sharing an unspoken but clear sense of bewilderment between them at your odd request. Often drunken pigeons, or rough street urchins would request to see the boss, but it wasn’t a common sight to see a regularly dressed citizen in such a state demanding an audience with Mr Brekker himself.

“I’m afraid it’s pretty difficult to get a meeting with the boss, always busy you know?” spoke the man you assumed to be Jesper, in a kind but skeptical tone, swirling the drink in his hand as he failed to decipher the reason for your visit.

Panic began to claw its way deeper into your chest, as you quickly blurted out “Please, its important, I need to see Kaz. Please bring me to see him.” The sudden outburst once again surprised the men, however Wylan’s gaze softened at the clear desperation on your features, and Jesper’s confusion morphed into something that resembled pity.

Wylan subtly leaned into Jesper, whispering “I think you should take her, she seems pretty desperate?” causing Jesper to let out a sigh before meeting your gaze yet again.

Reluctantly, Jesper stood up, stretching his limbs well, before letting out a dramatic sigh, followed by a feigned annoyance at the request, analyzing you for a moment before stating, “Let’s go see the boss then.”

He quickly turned back to you, flashing a lopsided, yet winning grin, which put to rest some of the bubbling anxiety that was becoming inescapable. As you ascended the stairs to his office, a skeptical looking woman glanced curiously up at the three of you, hopping out of her chair to trail behind you, whilst stuffing the remains of what looked like a waffle into her mouth.

Before you could inquire about the third individual following your small group, you were suddenly met with the dark oak door of Kaz Brekker’s office. Jesper shot another reassuring grin back at you, as he rapidly knocked on the office door and let himself in before an answer called out.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

The instant you saw your husband, the tears glossed over your eyes, shining with a dangerous threat of escaping. However, to your surprise, you were able to win the valiant battle for a little longer.

You knew how vital it was for your husband to keep his personal life separated from his work life; one wrong move, and you could end up in the hands of another gang, tortured in exchange for information on the Dregs. This knowledge was what kept you from barreling towards his desk without a second thought, with even the smallest slip from Jesper potentially ruining every bit of yours and Kaz’s struggle to break down his walls.

Kaz sat at his desk at the centre of the bleak room, a faint patch of light hitting his face from a glowing street lantern, casting deep shadows across his sharp features. His shoulders tensed as he remained solely focused on the blueprint in front of him, his harsh glare at the sheet almost seemed as if he was planning to murder it. Perhaps if you weren’t so shaken you may have let out a soft laugh at his pure concentration.

“What is it? I have no time for irrelevant interruption, this marksheet needs to be completed before twelve bells tonight,” A sharp voice suddenly cut through the thick silence. Jesper cleared his throat before confronting his boss, shifting his weight between each foot at the temper that Kaz was evidently displaying.

“Well, you see, I was sitting downstairs with Wylan at the bar, when all of a sudden…” Jesper started, but was cut off by a deadly look from Kaz to get to the point. As his gaze shot upwards towards the sharpshooter, he finally noticed the second figure in the room and his heart plummeted.

Why were you here?

Kaz’s mind began spinning, grasping for any logical reason as to why you were in the one of the most dangerous staves of the Barrel, requiring his assistance.

An identical panic to yours seized his chest as he inspected your state, your hair was windswept, eyes glossed over and glinting with a touch of fear, a visible shake to your arms and legs, which he had been fortunate enough to never experience until now.

You looked utterly terrified.

A single murderous look was enough for Jesper to throw his hands up in defense, and saunter quietly out of the room, glancing curiously back at the two of you as he shut the door. Jesper thought to himself that his life in the long run would be far more valuable than the price of his curiosity now.

Although Kaz is a man of few words, he seemed truly speechless, barely managing to register his own steps as he moved slowly towards you, each limp bringing his comfort closer and closer to you. Once he had reached your figure, he noticed you had curled in on yourself, hands clasped firmly together in front of you, and eyes darting rapidly around his face, searching for something, as it appeared to him.

He slowly reached towards you, and with a gloved hand, tenderly unwound your fingers from their iron grip, instead intertwining them with his own to bring you comfort and slow your light but swift breathing. Kaz remained tight-lipped, words rushing through his head, yet not formulating into any combination which he thought would be appropriate to calm you down.

He gazed intensely into your eyes, softening with each moment as he took in your shaken state, something that was rare due to his exceptional ability to keep you away from his violent life.

Until now.

Yet you had taught him not to run anymore when he encounters challenges, leading him to battle his mind later, and care for you in the present. Plus, you had the courage to make your way through the barrel in this condition, the least he could do was give you his everything.

You released a long, shaky sigh, staring only at Kaz’s chest now in order to match your breaths, imagining that your hearts were beating together too. You knew Kaz was struggling to find a grip within his thoughts, fingers twitching against your own as his body worked overtime, in a way it only did for you.

Several minutes passed in a strange silence, as the pair of you basked in each other's presence, the close distance allowing both of you to be assured the other is safe and within reach, yet the tension and anxiety still buzzed through the air.

“Someone broke in, I’m not sure who or from where. Tried to steal your favorite tea set, you know the one you brought back from Ravka once? I hit him square like you said. But it, but it boke. Shattered actually. It gave me enough time to run, but I don’t know. He may have followed or…” you suddenly burst out, the emotions flowing out of you through your words, and soon to follow were the tears.

You were cut off in your rambling however, as a feather-light kiss graced your temple, drawing you into a pool of warmth, suddenly able to feel the heat of the fire and the glow of the candles that surrounded Kaz’s office, likely gifts of yours.

Although Kaz’s voice was hardened, you knew he was holding back significantly to soothe you, building up wrath to unleash on the unfortunate man who entered your house earlier. The claws of the anxiety released their hold on you, allowing you to breathe deeply for the first time in hours.

“I’m here, darling, and you don’t need to think about that anymore,” he eventually breathed out, “I'll take care of it. I promise. I promise you,” he whispered against your forehead, again leaving the faintest outline of a kiss on the soft skin.

Whilst he was nowhere near healed, over the years you had opened up his deepest wounds and started to stitch them up, with each moment the pain easing ever so slightly. Direct touches were now common, with light pecks, or hand holding being Kaz's most favored actions.

Sometimes if you were lucky, you could get a short kiss on the lips, or a long hug through the safety of many layers; each being evident signs of his love for you, and how you were truly the only one to crack the code to the Bastard of the Barrel's heart.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

Kaz didn’t leave your side for the remainder of the night, bringing you anything you asked for, sitting the armchair closer to his desk to keep him company, hands held tightly until he deemed it safe enough to escort you home.

Wrapping you warmly with his largest coat, he gently placed his best hat atop your head, offering a small smile and breathy laugh as it tilted at an angle. Looking up to meet his gaze, you returned the grin, smile spreading to your eyes and cheeks. Kaz carefully adjusted the edges of the coat to obscure your face, being thorough in the process to avoid any identification of who was accompanying him.

As the door clicked open, and the pair stepped into the hallway, pinkies interlinked, a group of three snooping crows barreled backwards, hitting into each other and the walls. Kaz sent a deathly glare at each of them, as they stood in shock at the sight before them, Jesper gasping, Wylan gaping with fright, and Nina's smirk widening by the second.

After a series of extreme threats hurled at the group outside his office, Kaz pushed past them and dragged you with him, turning his coat collar upwards to hide the growing embarrassment colouring his face.

He crushed the feeling down, instead turning to his internal plotting to enact revenge on your behalf, inwardly smirking at the image of the man begging him for mercy as he pays for his offence in blood.

Meanwhile, Nina stood grinning to herself, proud of her newfound knowledge which she was certain she could use against Kaz at some point soon. Because from that office, she not only heard the hammering heart of the poor citizen girl, but also the one of a love-struck gang leader too.

════ ∘◦ᵒ 𓅓 ᵒ◦∘ ════

#kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader fluff #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader imagines #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n

[selfishdoll]

❛I MISSED YOU...❜

Can you focus on me? | Baby, can you focus on me? ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ FOCUS

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

sometimes, even the grandmaster is tired and wants nothing more than to be with the woman he loves.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNINGS.

ooc bi-han, wife!reader, bi-han is tired but never too tired for you, soft dom!bi-han, praise, pet names (my love, darling, sweet girl, etc). breeding kink, mentions of being stressed, multiple orgasms, etc..

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

bi-han is always written as a hard/mean dom in bed & while i love that, i feel like he’d be gentle and sweet when he wants to be. unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

Being the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei meant many things. Bi-Han surrendered himself to his duties, ignoring all other distractions to assure his clan remained strong, upholding the title for a proper leader. What others saw as cruel was simply his way of surviving amongst opposing forces. He dedicated time to the skin Kuei, even if it meant spending days away from you.

The day you two married, Bi-Han warned you his focus couldn’t be on you everyday— that his duties as Grandmaster came first. He spoke as if you would become a nuisance, a needy brat that begged for his attention. When realistically, it was the opposite.

When the man found moments to himself his mind would drift to you, pondering on what you were doing; were you smiling? Eating? Sleeping? There were times he nearly ordered someone to snatch you away from whatever you were doing to have you by his side. Bi-Han simply missed you that much. Your touch, scent, skin— he spent agonizing hours away from you, dampening his mood by each passing one.

The Lin Kuei knew when to avoid angering him during this time.

Today was just like the others; saddled with work and attending his duties. But Bi-Han was tired, frustrated he couldn’t see you wake up and fall asleep. Annoyed your hands were gliding across his skin, soothing his worries. He wanted, needed to see you.

So the man dragged his tired body to your shared bedroom, hands clenched at his sides as he refused to let anything step in his way. Bi-Han was sure a single interruption would cause him to break.

The man gripped the bedroom door, opening it, entering, and shutting it behind him. His eyes cased over your sleeping form; body curled up on his side of the bed, a blanket tossed lazily over your naked form, head pressed against his pillows with your pretty curly braids sprawled across the silk sheets. Bi-Han clearly remembers demanding them for you the moment you asked. From your sight alone he felt his body relax, walking over to the bed and sitting infront of you. Taking one more glance at your curled up body, the man leaned down to slowly push off his shoes— warming the moment he felt your arms wrap around his body, face pressed into his neck.

“My love..”

“I apologize for waking you.” Bi-Han spoke, finishing removing his shoes and rising from his hunched position. His hands gently traced your arms, eyes closing with a soft hum.

You shook your head, pulling yourself closer to him, chest flush against his back. “Don’t apologize.” You murmured, releasing him the moment he began to turn around. Silently, the two of you move closer, lips pressing together; slowly drinking the other in.

Words were no longer needed, your mannerisms speaking enough.

The lip locking continued, Bi-Han leading you to lay on your back, resuming the kiss the moment you touched the sheets. He sighed through his nose, pressing his forearm above your head as he deepened the kiss; tongue pushing into your warm, wet mouth to claim as his own. Licking into you, other hand rising to gently cup your cheek, thumb brushing across your heated skin.

Moments of passion passed before he pulled away from your, warming the moment your soft hands came to cradle his face. Your foreheads pressed together, breath fanning across the other’s face and resting their silent, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Shortly after the man leaned down once again, kissing you deeply— a newfound heat consuming the affection. His hand traced down your form, ghosting your plush skin; feeling the way your stomach clenches when his hands so much as drags across your mound.

“I missed you, dearly.” The man admitted against you, hand rising to your hip, fingers sinking into your flesh from his tightly he was gripping. As if you would suddenly drift away from him. His grip was met with a lock of your arms around his neck, bringing your bare hips up to his own covered ones. “I missed you.” You whispered back, hands coming to curl in his hair, the grip tightening the moment he pressed against you.

Bi-Han was used to teasing you during times like this, withholding what you wanted until you used your words. But he was far too pent up, to do such a thing tonight. He needed you desperately and his own antics wouldn’t stand in the way of that. So before you could even open your mouth in pleas, he was removing his clothes; tossing them off to the side in a small pile.

He rested on his hunches, grabbing the underside of your thighs, spreading you for him. He nearly groaned at the beautiful sight, your pretty slit glistening with your essence, clit begging for his attention. All the two of you did was kiss and yet, you were this wet.. something Bi-Han will always wear with pride.

“Seems I don’t have to prep you..” The man dragged in a teasing tone, grabbing his length and pushing the cockhead against your entrance. Slowly he pushed in, your warmth engulfing him, causing a shudder to run down his body. It’s been quite sometime since he’s felt you, been inside you— and he could never shake the amazing fall of your around him. Sucking him in, clenching as if refusing to let go.

A soft whine escaped you as he continued to enter, pulling him closer by the hair, ruining his bun. “I.. I did say I missed you, Bi-Han.” You breathed as his hips stilled the moment he was fully inside, warmth spreading across your body as you relaxed around him.

The man leaned down, a hand releasing a thigh to cradle your face as his lips ghosted your skin. “I know, darling. I know.” He spoke softly, pulling his hips back until only the tip was inside, before thrusting back infront of you. Bi-Han watched the way your pretty, bruised lips fell apart, eyes threatening to close as your eyebrows furrowed together. Your breaths were steady, for now, fanning across his face.

It didn’t take long for the man to pick up pace with each thrust, rising to grip your waist, holding you perfectly in place for him. Driving you into the bed with each movement, hearing the way your moans grew and grew, walls clenching and time he dragged in and out of you.

During times like this, Bi-Han wished to drop a few responsibilities as Grandmaster.

His hand lowered, pressing against the small of your back and raising you, driving into you at a different angle that caused tears to well in your eyes. You were so sensitive both from such a long period time without sex and because you had only woken up a few moments ago.

“Mm—! Bi-Han!”

“Mhm..” Your husband hummed along to your sweet moans, leaning over your body. “I feel terrible.. leaving my sweet little wife so pent up like this.” The man spoke, using his body to push your legs up high, thighs brushing your chest. He watched in enjoyment at the way you came undone from the new position, walls spasming and clenching around him— nearly making it impossible to move. Bi-Han breathed, leaning his head down to kiss your damp face. “That’s it.. I’ll repay for every single minute I was away from you, sweet girl.”

Promise hugged his words, releasing a hip to reach between the two of you; using two fingers to circle your wet, swollen bud. He followed you when you jumped, whining about the sensitivity while attempting to run from his deep thrusts. But he didn’t let you, hooking you close and refusing to release you. You were completely at his mercy, mind lost to pleasure as he rocked in and out of you all while his thick, rough fingers rubbed against your bundle of nerves.

You missed him, missed this. How he so easily ruined you, washing unnecessary thoughts from your mind and replacing them with him. And only him. Your fingers raked his scalp, leaning up to catch his lips in a deep kiss; one he eagerly returned.

Soon enough you that familiar feeling invaded your stomach, causing your legs to shake and your pussy to clench. You pulled back with a loud moan, head pressed against your pillow as your eyes rolled to the back of your skull.

“Oh..losing yourself, are you?” Bi-Han spoke slyly, messily quickening the pace of his fingers, ignoring your hand coming to wrap around his wrist. He felt your walls clench and clench, your stomach caving in as your thighs shook— cumming all over him and the bed, release dripping down your ass. “Look at that.. such a mess you made for me, my love.”

Despite this, his hips never stopped, continuing to fuck you even as soft cries of too much! escaped your raw throat. Bi-Han only smiled, leaning down to kiss your hot skin, declaring just one more and you can take it.

The man’s thrusts continued, becoming uncoordinated and sloppier by the second, tip pushing against your cervix with, pleasure washing the pain away quickly. He bit his lip, silence his deep groan as he spilled into you— head going slack the moment you came again, milking him completely.

Heavy pants surrounded the room, your legs sliding from his shoulders to lay on other side of him, still shaking from the aftershocks. You breathed heavily as he moved his hips experimentally, assuring every single drop got inside of you.

“You’re going to break me.” You spoke softly, hearing him release a breath of amusement. He leaned down, hand tracing the side of your face and leaning to curl into your hair.

“Maybe.. but not tonight.”

You smiled at this, wrapping your arms tight around him and bringing him even closer as if trying to meld your bodies together. “I missed you, Grandmaster.” You ignored the way his cock twitched inside you from your words, feeling his hand drag across your skin, breathing you in with a pleased sigh.

“I missed you, my beautiful wife.”

#mani writes ━━ ★ #mechahrt #mdni #black!reader #bi han #bi han x reader #bi-han x black!reacer #bi-han x fem!reader #bi-han smut #mk1 x black!reader #mk1 x reader #mk1 smut #subzero x reader #subzero x black!reader #subzero x fem!reader #curvy reader #chubby reader #chubby!reader #curvy!reader

[writingoddess1125]

Roger and Jessica Rabbit Effect

Buggy Headcanon. Buggy x Reader

Support me on Kofi

Prequel <<<

• This Goofy Motherfucker definitely has a hot wife no one knows about-

• As his personal seamstress you tailor his clothes and make his costumes for all his best costumes. However he adores you, You are his everything.

• Buggy never talks about you, for good reason since he doesn't want any eyes to fall onto you and put you in a dangerous spotlight. Many Pirates didn't talk about their S/O and it was always smart to not to.

• You however were fairly ignorant of the pirate food chain. So you did gush about your husband but no one knew exactly who he was- some mysterious drifter that seemed to appear and disapear like the wind.

• It being a total accident how you were discovered.

• The Strawhat Pirates of course were the ones to discover you by accident when they landed in a small island in need of fabric for the ship sails. The dock master telling them your shop most likely had the fabrics needed.

• Once in your shop you treated them kindly and ignored the obvious flirting from Sanji who was enamored by you.

• "I have just the fabric for your ships" You said cheerfully, not noticing Zoro who was staring hard at the gold necklace that hung around your neck.

• "You're associated with the Buggy Pirates-" Zoro stated as he pointed to the necklace seeing Buggy's Jolly Roger stamped on ots pendent.

• "Hm? Oh I suppose, I'm not apart of the crew or anything but my husband is" You say cheerfully as you pull out some bundles of fabric.

• "Your husband?" They all question now highly interested, Such a pretty person like you being married to anyone apart of Buggy's crew was surprising.

• You giggle at their curious faces finding it adorable. "Yes my Husband, The Captian himself Buggy"

• "..."

• "YOURE BUGGY'S WIFE!?!" They all scream in total terror at how You could be married to that juggling buffoon

• Sanji has an crisis in the corner of your shop as he tries to figure out how he is still single yet Buggy the Clown is married to a hottie!?

• "D-Did he brain wash you? Threaten you?" Nami begs, Holding your hand like you needed some form of comfort.

• "No?- of course not" You say confused and raising a brow at the young pirates all so confused.

• "But you're so pretty, and Nice?-" Usopp points out.

• "Well he's very romantic and sweet" You gush, the youthful pirates staring at you with a deadpan stare.

• "Buggy- Romantic and Sweet?" They all say in disbelief unison.

• "That and he makes me laugh"

• Blushing you go on to explain how loving your sweet husband was, how even though he was out to see most of the time at sea he would constantly send gifts, love letters and more. The crew in shock at this.

• You were such a sweet person, the Strawhats all couldn't help but adore you. Even offering them dinner which they didn't refuse and spending a night in the spare rooms of your home above the shop-

• Seeing the photos of you and Buggy together also adding as a confirmation of your stories. By morning you sent them on their way in new clothes some fabrics for the ships sails, and some leftovers you insisted they take.

• "You kids have a safe journey!" You chime out as the group leaves waving bye and even a few giving some hugs goodbye. Luffy smiling widely at you as you wave to him-

• "Oh before I forget. Would you mind giving this to Buggy next time you see him? You seem to run into him a lot" You say cheerfully as you hold out a blue wrapped box to the young Captian.

• Luffy smiled at this as he took the small box and pocketed it.

"Of course Mrs (Y/N)!" He said cheerfully skipping away with the rest of the crew to return to sea.

• It would be about a month before they crossed paths with Buggy-

• "Straw Hat!!" Buggy yelled as he saw them, his head floating from his body in normal flashy fashion.

• After a mild confrontation were as per usual Buggy got his ass handed to him, The Strawhats were about to leave when Luffy remembered something.

• "Oh- By the way Mrs (Y/N) told us to give you this and-" Luffy says calmly as he reached into his pockets remebering the gift box you handed him- Buggy's whole body going as stiff as a board as he turns to the strawhats with his pupils as small as possible and his body seeming to come apart at the seams.

• It was the first time Luffy or anyone felt a threatening Haki from Buggy starting to drip out like a dam about to burst, in seconds the Clown was holding Luffy by his shirt with a great force.

• Zoro hand started to rest on their weapons as for the first time in a long time Buggy looked- Threatening?

• "Who told you about (Y/N)" Buggy hissed dangerously- Luffy gearing up for another fight one far more serious but then he saw it-

• Buggy was angry/scared and thinking they were a threat to your safety. Luffy pulling out the gift box calmly and smiling.

"Don't worry your secret is safe"

• Buggy stared at Luffy before his free hand took the box and dropped the Strawhat pirate, quickly tearing open the blue box and looking inside. His eyes softening as he saw a new set of gloves inside and a bandana. Slipping off his worn white gloves for the brand new set you'd sown. As well as reading the scribbled note you'd left for him- A crooked smile on his lips at your handwriting and the terrible Nickname you gave him. 'Buggy Boo'

• He glares at the Strawhats his normal fashion. "GET OUT OF HERE STRAWHATS!' He yelled loudly stomping his food dramatically

• A thought crossing all their minds-

• 'Has he been just goofing off this whole time to keep you safe?-"

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy thoughts #buggy headcanons #buggy the clown #Buggy x wife reader

[skzdarlings]

omg that sounds so fun!!!! (Sorry if this was quick I have your post notifs on) imma jump on this early!!! can we get “do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” W changbin? 😩😩😩

summary: you are in love with the son of your family's greatest enemy. he sneaks into your room one night after a party.

pairing: seo changbin/reader content info: petite!reader. mentions of past body insecurities. romeo-and-juliet style love affair. sneaking around. gun play that is somehow more romantic than kinky but still kinda kinky. explicit sexual content. word count: 2900 words.

-

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

-

You catch his eye across the room. 

There are a hundred people between you, bustling in their designer gowns and glittering in their jewels.  The hotel ballroom is an incandescent chamber of silver light.  The sun has long since set but the party plays on in its excessive splendour, never tiring of itself. 

You are tired of it.  The glamour of this lifestyle has turned more tedious than not.  At the centre of all this majesty is money, and everyone in this room prioritizes their wealth and capital above everything else.  They have fought and slandered and killed each other and they will do it all again, but they throw their galas nonetheless. Places to celebrate themselves and their so-called achievements, to flaunt their successes in self-congratulation. Everyone laughs and dances, spinning around the ballroom, sipping their champagne. 

You smile and demur, pretending you are having a good time.  You sit with your family and only interact with their trusted allies or those who would be. 

He is vehemently not included in that. 

Seo Changbin. 

He is across the room with his family, your family’s greatest enemy.  Your father and his father are titans of business and the family rivalry spans generations.  It started with your great-grandparents and you are destined to uphold it.  You will marry an appropriate man of standing, someone who will expand the empire, someone whose allyship is worthwhile in both the monetary and social strata.  You will have children and raise them to take your place, to inherit your name and all the blood and money that comes with it.  

Those same expectations are on your enemy.   You hold gazes across the sparkling sea of people.  You look away first. 

You are coerced onto the dance floor by one of your father’s chosen men.  You join that sparkling sea. It is always bizarre to brush elbows with these people, knowing very well they would not hesitate to put a bullet in your head under any other circumstance.  You catch the sight of a few discreet weapons as you are twirled around the dance floor.   Ostensibly, weapons are not allowed inside the gala as fighting is prohibited, but these people always take their precautions. 

Your dance partner spins you.  You twirl as per the dance, then stumble to a halt because Changbin is standing there.  He is dancing with someone too, has them spun out the opposite way.  You stand in the middle of the ballroom looking at each other, faces equally stoic. 

He is dressed in all black, austere and intimidating.  His black hair falls in a sweep across his forehead, just this side of too-long so it obscures his eyes if he tilts his head a certain way.  He is always so meticulously hidden in public, nothing but a walking shadow.  He is a dark reflection of his family and their grim reputation.

But his jovial laughter is in your mind, his witty quips, his jokester nature.  He is devastatingly charming and endlessly humorous. 

You would never know just looking at him.  Changbin is not the tallest man in the room but he more than compensates with his bulk and power.  Pretty much anyone would be big next to you, but you know what your hand looks like when laid against his, how all encompassing the breadth of his big arms feel when they wrap around you. 

He does not touch you.  He looks.  He smirks, like he knows your heart is racing.  Then he spins away.  Your partner pulls you back. 

The dance continues.

-

You say you are sick and leave the party early.  You are escorted back to the house with your usual security flank, sitting in the backseat of your limo with a guard on either side of you.  They wear bulletproof gear under their uniform, matching pale blue in the family’s colours, and wearing bulky glasses to shield their eyes.  They are all armed to teeth, wearing their holsters and belts.  They dwarf you almost comically.  They do not speak to you.

When you reach the house, you go straight to your bedrooms.  You have three rooms to yourself, each lonely space spilling into the next.  You dress in your closet, leaving the gown pooled in a silk mess on the floor.  You discard your jewelry and amble to your main room in a satin nightdress and robe.

You almost miss it, the sound so faint, but you swear a gentle knocking comes from your balcony doors.  They are still sealed shut.  Security did not notice anything remiss upon arrival, but there is a blind spot in the security camera on your balcony.  There are no cameras inside your room for privacy purposes.  But no one would know that unless you told them.   

And you have only told one person. 

You approach the balcony doors, wary.  You peer into the night, eyes roving the grand expanse of the brightly lit garden and swimming pool.  Wind rustles through the leaves of the trees and a security guard is finishing his round. 

You step onto your balcony slowly.  The security guard can only see you when you lean over.  He waves at you before leaving the yard, continuing the rest of his patrol elsewhere.   You watch him go. 

The world is quiet as it ever is.  You can hear the buzz of the pool lights and the tinkling of your wind chimes, little else.  You lean against your balcony railing and look over the yard.  You weigh the luxury of the estate against its cost.  Not for the first time, you ruminate on how it is absolutely not worth it. 

You sigh and turn.  Then you freeze at what, who, you find. 

You mistake him for a security guard for half a second, which nearly gives you a heart attack because they are never on your balcony.  But he is just wearing one of their uniforms.  You are not sure when he stole it, tonight or previously.  

Seo Changbin stands there in the blue uniform shirt and gun holster, winking at you behind bulky glasses.  He is pressed against the wall in the solitary blind spot, nodding his head to your balcony door.  If you open it a little wider, he can sneak in undetected. 

Like he has done a dozen times before. 

You feign nonchalance for the camera, humming to yourself as you step into your bedroom.  You push your door open all the way, positioning yourself in distracting view of the lens while he sneaks inside.   Then you follow and slam the door shut.  You both take a curtain and draw them together, meeting in the middle. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say.  It is not what you want to say.  You want to say, thank god you are here.  I missed you so much.  But that is an utterly foolish proclamation.  You know better.  You have always known better. 

But the son of your family’s greatest enemy is standing in your bedroom anyway.  He looks at you, at where you clutch your robe, at where you wet your lips.   He removes the glasses and tosses them aside, as if to study you more closely. 

“I shouldn’t,” he says.  You cannot tell if it is an agreement or a question. 

“No, you shouldn’t,” you say.  You take a step back, because every second in his proximity only compels you closer.  It is surer than a planet caught in a gravitational pull, threatened to be shattered by the sheer cosmic power of the star holding it in orbit.

He steps with you.  When you take another step, he follows.  Back and back and back.  He feels big in this space.  Even though your room is massive, his presence shadows your little world.  When your back hits the wall and he looms in front of you, he is all you can see.  Nothing else exists beyond him. 

“Changbin, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you say, though you know it is useless to protest your liaison with any logic, because this is a matter of the heart and not mind.  That rebellious heart of yours beats faster.  “If anyone found you here… we’d both be in so much trouble.” 

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says.  He speaks with such easy confidence, like it is a matter of fact and not hope.  He says it so certainly that you almost believe him. 

“You can’t promise that,” you say. 

“Yah, shame on you,” he teases.  “You know I always keep my word.” 

It is true.  Though Changbin has a formidable reputation, it has little basis in actuality.  He is a man of strong moral principle.  He does not like the fighting and brawling and warring.  He does not hurt innocent people, nor does he put civilians at risk for the sake of a stupid business. 

And he has treated you with more loving respect than anyone else in your life. 

Of course you surrender to him, again and again, sighing now as you lean against the wall and release your robe.  It falls open and reveals your little nightdress.  His gaze dives down your body, igniting sparks inside you.  You were once insecure about your appearance, taking to heart your mother’s admonishments, that you were scrawny and gaunt, nothing but a burden as they struggled to find a match for you. 

It is no struggle for Changbin.  He curses even though he has seen you a dozen times.  He holds your hips, then runs his strong hands up your body so you shiver all over.  He cups the back of your head and draws you close, like he intends to kiss you.  You are ready for it, eyelids heavy and lips parting. 

With his other hand, he reaches for his chest holster.  You blink as he slowly draws the gun, as he brings it closer to you.  It feels like your whole body turns to liquid heat, heart thundering as he rests the barrel so delicately against your temple. 

“See, baby,” he says, “if they find us, they’ll blame me.  What was a little thing like you supposed to do, ah?  Fight me?” 

You are breathing harder, already so hot with anticipation.  You gasp when he tugs you closer still, the gun still tapping your temple. 

His lips are so close to yours, they almost touch.

“Poor baby,” he says.  “She’s so good to her family.  It’s not her fault Seo Changbin climbed in her window and fucked her in her little nightdress.”  He moves the gun, making your breath catch again.  The barrel touches your lips then moves down, down.  It brushes a sensitive nipple, then moves lower still.  The cool metal brushes your inner thigh under your nightdress and your knees starting shaking, a delicious heat twisting in your belly.  “Tsk, tsk,” he says.  “No panties.  Maybe it’s not my fault completely.” 

“We really shouldn’t do this,” you say, but it is still not what you want to say. I want you, I need you, so so badly.

He smiles and lifts the gun again, all the way up to your mouth where he taps your lips.

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” he asks.

It is so funny; Changbin is holding a gun to your lips but you feel more safe than dancing among those people at the party.  You trust him so completely, so irrevocably, that you do not feel truly threatened for even a moment.  There is something so liberating and joyous in allowing your body to go completely lax, in forgetting all your many grievances for the short but blissful time you have with him.  Your heart is so full you could burst. 

You kiss the tip of the gun, then smile. 

“Well,” you say.  “What are you waiting for?” 

He tosses the gun onto the bed so he can hold you with both hands when he kisses you.  You moan against his lips.  His searching hands are careful where he touches you, squeezing and loving. He cups the small curve of your breast in his palm, rubs there until electric desire shoots to every extremity.

You shrug your robe off and he wastes no time gathering you into his arms. He holds you so securely, picking you up with no effort at all.  Then you are pressed against the wall with him pressed against you. 

“Yes, yes,” you say, gasping, as he kisses down your neck.  He hikes you higher, catching you effortlessly, guiding your legs around him as he kisses down to your breasts.  He wraps his lips around a nipple through your dress, making you clench your thighs around him, which makes him giggle like the maniacal tease he is. 

“You like that,” he says, and tugs your dress down to get his mouth on you properly.  He is so good with his tongue.  You feel a little giddy, thinking to yourself that it is his true weapon.  Fast, precise, teasing you and working you until you are tugging at his head and grinding against him. 

“I need you,” you say, breathlessly, “Changbin, Changbin—”  

You seldom take your time, given the danger of the situation.  With the house empty and both your families occupied, you have time tonight to go a little slower, but you simply cannot wait.  You are both accustomed to instant satisfaction when together.  Your body feels wrong without him inside it.  You need him like a breath of air. 

“Please,” you say.

You do not have to beg much.  He fiddles with his belt and his zip, then he repositions you.  You cover your mouth to catch your squeal when he pushes inside you.  He moans into your neck to stifle his own sounds. 

“Baby, so good for me,” he murmurs, sounding intoxicated from the silky feel of you, wrapped around him so completely. 

You know the feeling.  You are incapable of forming sentences, clinging to him desperately as he fucks you steadily against the wall.  He holds you with just one arm, the other palm planted flat to the wall, near your head.  You clutch his big bicep while your other hand sinks in the hair at his nape.   You fuck until he is close, when he carries you to the bed and lays you out. 

You lean forward and take him in your mouth, sucking him down until he comes.  He bites his wrist to keep his volume down. 

You wipe your lips, smiling.  Then you sprawl back on the bed, nightdress turned to little more than a sash around your middle.  You slide it off completely.  Even though he just came, he is already looking you with hungry eyes.  He puts a knee on the bed, evidently ready to pounce.   

You pick up the gun and point it at him, quirking a playful eyebrow.  He blinks at you, surprised, then smiles as well. 

“Baby,” he says.  “That wasn’t the plan.”

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” you reply. 

It just makes him laugh.  The sound makes your heart gush with sentiment.  He looks so handsome and sweet, hair pushed back, a light sheen of sweat on his neck.  He is still mostly dressed, tucked back into his pants, but they are open and slung low, his shirt all untucked. 

He gazes at you with deep, dark eyes, nothing but affection on his face.  He plays your game and strips his shirt off, then he crawls across the bed until he is close enough for you to rest the barrel of the gun against his temple. 

“Go on,” you say, nodding. 

Truly, his tongue is the greater weapon.  The gun does not stand a chance, falling out of your hand, forgotten, as he descends between your legs.  You feather his hair through your fingers, then dig into his scalp, riding the motion of his mouth as he licks and sucks and kisses you down there.   You come with a shivering sigh, your legs shaking. 

He lifts his head and wiggles his eyebrows.  “Good?” he asks, to which you can only nod.  “Ha-ha,” he says, lightly slapping your thigh.  “Of course it was.  It’s me.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes. 

“You are incorrigible,” you say. 

He climbs up your body and kisses you on the lips, tasting of you.  It makes you whimper, delighted. 

“I think you meant to say incredible,” he teases.  “That’s okay, I understood you anyway.” 

“I’m sure you did,” you say.  Because there is a great deal of truth in that statement.  You and him are on opposite sides of this ridiculous feud, but you are in exactly the same place.  No one understands you better than him. 

That understanding is written all over his face.  He smiles tenderly, cupping your cheek in his hand.  His next kiss is the definition of romance itself, sweet and long, enough to make you swoon. 

“How much time do you think we have?” you ask.

“Not much,” he answers, then kisses you again.  “Don’t think about it now.  It’s okay, baby.  I got you.” 

“I know,” you say.  You wrap your arms around each other and hold tight, kissing again while you can.  The truth is, neither of you is in any position to dictate your fate.  But he kisses you like that does not matter, with no past and no tomorrow on the horizon.   You take control of this moment and consider it a happy ending for as long as you can.   

#seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin x you #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #valentinesdaystories #anonymous request

[reiderwriter]

Let Me Love You, Baby

Chapter 7 of That's What You Get Prev Chap // Next Chap

Warnings: Oral (M and F receiving), nipple play, handcuffing, BDSM themes, dom! Spencer, sub! Reader, breeding kink, creampie, handcuffing, a variety of PinV sex positions, multiple orgasms, squirting mention, mentions of different types of orgasms involving penetrative sex and anal sex. 18+ MINORS DNI Summary: Your memories of your wedding night come back. Not all of them, just the interesting ones.

A/N: If you're enjoying this series please PLEASE let me know in the comments! I've really been loving the theories about who the other witness is and I've changed my mind like three times on who it is eventually going to be BUT I've made up my mind now and I think it's going to be a great reveal lmao. This chapter has been on my mind since I started the series and I'm so happy you can all finally read it, but it is also A Lot of sex because every time I had a thought, I wrote it down and then didn't self-edit lmao. You can find my masterlist here, the series masterlist in the link above, and if you enjoy my smut, think about checking out my kinktober masterlist or my AO3 account for daily spicy content next month! <3

You stumbled, drunk, into the room, not sure in the haze if it was yours or his. The card had passed between you in many hushed giggles through the hall as you eagerly pulled each other forward. Falling onto the bed, you let out a contented sigh as Spencer fell next to you, face first into the sheets with a small laugh. 

“I can’t believe we did that!” You grinned, meeting his eyes as he turned his head towards you. “We’re married!” 

“We are.” He smiles, and you can’t help but let your eyes fall to his lips, swollen and pink from your earlier enjoyment of one another. You start to laugh, not fully understanding why, but thinking it probably had a lot to do with the alcohol you’d consumed. Bringing a hand up to his face, you let a finger run over the corner of his mouth, wiping away a tiny splash of red you’d deposited earlier. 

“Your lips are swollen.” 

“Whose fault is that?” He leans in and catches your lips again in his and you squeal at the sudden contact, excited to feel him against you again. He’s soft and gentle at first, but as you gasp underneath him your breaths get shorter, stopping just shy of moans as you let your hands trail up and down his body. But the edge of the bed is uncomfortable, so you push him off, following his lips still as he pushes himself further up, straddling his waist as you let yourself melt into him. 

“How did this happen again?” You ask, memory already feeling a little fuzzy, as you think back on the stressful few weeks you’ve had and how much better this feels. How nice it is to have someone underneath you, pressed against you, holding you. 

“Is that important right now?” He asks, lips seeking yours again as you turn your head just as he tries to connect, giggling at his pout. 

“You know, I always thought getting married would be this whole huge thing. Hundreds of guests, 18 months of stress while planning, you never really know on the day if the man you’re attempting to lock down is actually going to be on the other end of that aisle or if he’s bolted somewhere.” His lips are carving a path down your throat as you talk, memorizing the peaks and falls of every inch of your skin, committing you to memory like a prayer. 

“A man would have to be absolutely stupid to leave you at the alter, Y/N.” He says those words that prick your heart so easily, worming his way in, without even breaking his lips away from their spot on your collarbone. 

“Then if he didn’t leave, he’d be too drunk to perform on the wedding night, and so the entire day would end up just being a bust anyway.” He smiles into his final kiss, letting it linger against your skin as he pulls away and looks into your eyes. 

“How drunk are you, Spencer?” Your voice falls to a hush as you shift your weight in his lap, opening your legs just a smidge wider, shifting forward so more of you is falling over his clothed member, pressing up against him as close as possible. 

“You’re talking too much,” he growled out, and, grabbing you by the neck, pulled you into another heated kiss. This one isn’t giggles and soft sighs, it’s a clash of teeth and tongue and desperation, and you suddenly have the answer to your question as you feel him stiffen beneath you. Grinding down into him, you let him take control of your actions, letting him tell you when you can come up for air. 

When he finally pulls away from you, you stay connected through a line of saliva stretching from your lolling tongue to his mouth. He breaks it with his thumb, forcing the digit into your mouth as you suck your shared mess from him. 

“Definitely not too drunk.” 

You couldn’t help yourself then, as you pulled his thumb from your mouth and shifted your body down the bed until your face was parallel to his crotch, beginning to palm him in his trousers. 

“If we’re married,” you say, popping the button on his pants open. “We should probably get to know each other's… preferences early on. Stop any future arguments from occurring, right?” You looked up at him through hooded eyes, plastering the most sinful smile you could muster on your face. He stayed quiet, but you felt him twitch underneath your hand, and decided that was response enough. 

“You can bite me and scratch me if you want. I like it. Pull my hair, spank me, choke me until I’m begging to cum. I like all of it. You’re in control now, Spencer. You can do whatever you want with me, so long as it ends with your cum down my throat or stuffed inside me.” Finishing your speech, confidence fueled by alcohol and the buzz of your wedding vows, you slip his cock from its cloth prison and take it directly into your mouth. 

It’s thicker than you expected, and you just sit with the tip of it in your mouth for a second, trying to find a comfortable position. When you finally do, you push slowly down on it, letting your tongue tease and trace a path down. You don’t make it to the base before you’re pulling off, reaching what you expect to be your max about halfway down. You set a rhythm for yourself, hands pumping the rest of him as you coax the cum from him. 

He gives you three minutes of fun before he decides that you need a little help reaching your full potential. Fisting a hand into your hair, and cradling the back of your neck in his other, he stills your motions before pushing you further down his cock, bypassing your gag reflex as your throat battles against the position he’s put you in, your nose tickled against his soft curls. 

“Okay, let’s talk preferences. I’d prefer it if you ask permission before you touch something, whether that be me or yourself. I’d prefer if you used a safe word if this all gets a bit much for you. And I’d prefer you to relax that little throat of yours so I can fuck a load of my seed down it baby, okay?” He pulls you up by the hair and you nod, rasping out a yes as you gasp for air. 

“Safeword is profile, tap twice if you need air.” And with that, he’s fucking your face again, pushing and pulling you by your hair as your mouth leaks spit. This was going to be a moment you’d never forget, the taste of his precum at the back of your throat, burning its way down. 

Shrugging off his pants completely, he keeps at his movements, your head still working over him like you’re simply a fleshlight for his personal use. He grunts and twitches into you, signaling his impending release, and you try to ready yourself for the sting of the liquid hitting the back of your throat. He cums hot and fast, and you swallow around him, but there’s so much, it spills out of your mouth quickly, dripping down your chin and neck. 

“Good girl. You listen to instructions well.” He pulls you up to his lap again as he begins undressing you, not bothering to wipe his cum from your mouth. 

In a matter of seconds, he has you completely bare for him. Pulling your legs further up, he lets your torso fall back into the bed before shimmying himself down, coming face-to-face with your core. 

“You remember the rules?” He asks, and you nod, answering his question. 

“No touching, safe word is profile. Is that it?” 

“One more thing. You’re not allowed to cum until I say so, okay?” You let out a moan of discontent then, but he shuts you up with a light slap to your face, coming up to press a kiss to your lips before traveling south again. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he says as he spreads your legs and stretches out his tongue to finally come in contact with your needy core. His tongue is skilled, and you almost immediately break one of his rules as you arch off the bed, trying your best not to suffocate him between your thighs as you search for ways to heighten this pleasure. 

He wastes no time being gentle, just fully eating you out like it was his job to make you cum on his face. His tongue stretched from your clit to your hole, flattening out and writhing in equal amounts as your pleasure built to a frenzy. Your hands gripped into the sheets and you clung to the single thought that maybe a punishment from your new husband wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. 

Your hands drift to his hair, gripping tightly as you begin bucking into his mouth, completely lost in your base desires. He quickly grips your hands and pins them to the bed again though, pulling away just before you even think about climaxing against his face. 

“Spencer,” you beg, your moans sounding like the sobs of a spoiled child. 

“You broke a rule, princess. I can’t just let you get away with that.”  You moan at the loss of contact, your voice whinier than you'd ever heard it. 

He left the bed entirely then, and you lifted your head up to follow his path to the drawers by the side of the bed. Opening it, he picked up the wedding license you'd discarded on the floor, placing it nearly inside and slowly pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Your standard FBI set, not something light, flimsy, and cushioned with fluff, these were hard and cold against your skin as he returned to the bed. 

"Wait, S-Spencer…. Really?" You panicked as he pulled one arm over your head placing it parallel with the headboard, trapped between the slats. He tightened the cuff around your hand, leaving one free as he started kissing down your arm, down to your shoulder and into the hollow of your neck. 

"Yes, really. Now since you want to use that other hand so badly, why don't you use it to get yourself off." You swallowed the spit in your mouth, and nodded at him, before doing just as he asked, picking up where his hands had gotten off. 

He shifted to sitting just by your side, lifting your body half on top of him, your back pressed up against his chest as he watched over your shoulder as your hand-worked you into a frenzy. Bringing both of his hands around your body, he started playing with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pulling and fondling your breasts as your breathing became more labored. 

"There are seven different female orgasms, you know. The clitoral orgasm, the G-spot orgasm, the blended orgasm, the anal orgasm, the A-spot orgasm, a purely psychological orgasm, and," he leaned down closer to your ear to finish his sentence. "The nipple orgasm." You struggled against the handcuff as you felt the tightness build in your chest, but he grabbed and held your other hand close to him as he pushed up on top of you again. 

"How many do you think you'll get tonight, Y/N?" He asked, lowering his head back to your chest as you bucked your hips wildly, trying to feel him in between your legs. 

He pushed down your hips and kept his attention on your chest, your brain going fuzzy with the contact as the orgasm that had been imminent kept growing until you couldn't stop it from rushing over you, chumming with his attention solely on your chest. 

"You didn't answer my question?" He brought his head up, frowning slightly as you blinked your eyes open and focused on his shape above you. 

"Did you read some kind of sex book, Spencer? Jesus Christ that was…" You couldn't say anything else and he chuckled from above you. 

"I didn't read one, I've read multiple, and it's less reading and more committing to absolute memory." He swooped back down to your lips. "Answer the question, how many do you think you'll get tonight?"

"Two?" You ask vaguely, immediately opening your mouth back up to keep rambling. "But Spencer I've never really had more than one with another person and I'm not sure if I even can-" 

"You can. You will. You promised to listen to me, remember?" You flushed at his words, choosing simply to just nod for him instead of trusting your tongue to spit out the right words. 

"Good girl," he says, wrapping your legs around him, and running his cock through your folds, holding it there as he teased you. 

"I don't have to use a condom, right? You want me to drop my load directly into you, right? We're married now, so I can just fuck my seed into you, hmm?" You moaned out, begging for him to just push into you, to keep his promises and pleasure you again and again. 

"Hands in the sheets baby, come on, no touching remember?" You did as you were told, and with another kiss to your lips, tongues locking in your battle, he thrust his entire length into you in one movement. 

A scream of pleasure ripped out of you, just as quick and fast as you were sure you ripped the sheets of the bed, your sharp nails digging in for dear life as you struggled against the desire to hold him against you. 

"That's it, princess. That's it." He starts thrusting, snapping his hips up, and slowly pulling himself out again. For a moment, it was like you weren't breathing at all, his body feeding you everything you needed to sustain yourself. Lungs burning, you gulped in large breaths of him. His tongue swallowed each and every complaint, as he shared in your pleasure. 

He wasn't afraid to be vocal, like some men you'd been with in the past, and the sounds of his pleasure echoed out louder than your own. He was moaning in your ear, telling you how beautiful you looked on him as he pounded into you relentlessly. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he slapped into you again and again. 

His hand came up to your face as he grew closer to his climax, pushing his fingers back into your mouth as he turned your face further against the pillow. Your spit dribbled out of your mouth as you moaned around his fingers, pussy clenching on his dick as you felt your embarrassment rise. 

"So pretty and messy," he mumbled, hips keeping his pace up. 

"Did you make sure to swallow all of my cum earlier baby? Because if there was any of it left on my cock, I'm fucking it into you. Going to drop another load next to it so you can feel me knock you up." 

Unlike your first orgasm, you don't feel this one coming, you just know that he's hitting a spot so deep that it's never been reached before and saying the exact words that are pulling it closer to you, and then you're ecstasy has you squirting around his dick. 

"That's right. There you go, baby, lay nice and calm there, I need to keep going."

You were overstimulated, already feeling your desire burn a path through you again. He pulled out though, but made it clear that his intention was just to switch the positions of your bodies. 

Making sure not to twist your locked-up arm uncomfortably, he laid on the bed and pulled your fucked out body on top of him. You shivered at his touch and he pulled you further into his embrace warming you up. 

Your chest was pressed against his back, your head rolled back on his shoulder as he gently coaxed your legs apart one more time. 

"That's it, baby, you're listening so well. Just push your legs apart for me, okay?" You did as he asked, and he pressed your legs further up and apart, grabbing into the flesh of your thighs as he aligned his dick with your aching pussy and pressed into you one more time. 

The new angle had you moaning around you, as he encouraged you to start lifting your hips up and down, as he trusted up into you, your eyes rolling back into your head as he hit an electric point inside of you. He grabbed your hand to steady you as you moved to a seated position, letting your heels dig into the bed as you began riding him.

You were so tired that it didn't last long though, your hips stuttering awkwardly. 

"It's okay, Y/N, I'll do the rest, you just stay right there." From his place underneath you, he kept your thighs from above him as he thrust into you just as quickly as before, somehow maintaining his stamina despite the edging, the alcohol, and the energy you'd already exerted. 

Just as you were really about to lose your mind, he pulled out again, escaping from beneath you and gently laying you back on the bed. 

"One more position, princess, and then we can rest. You've been so good for me, you can do this, right? Can let me drop all of my cum inside you?" You nodded another sleepy yes, eyes somewhere between closed and open. There was no strength left in your body to stiffen up as he began moving your now malleable body into position, but that doesn't mean you didn't let out a moan at the way he'd stretched you out. 

Pushing your legs apart again, he's settled between them, but instead of letting them wrap around him, he'd kept hold of them, pushing your knees up still until they were on either side of your chest. He kissed away complaints and approvals that didn't come and slowly pushed into you again. 

He was evidently close, by the way he was drawing this out now. His fingers found your clit as his cock slowly worked in and out of you, the snap of his hips completely controlled and even in tempo. 

"Just keep doing that, Spence, oh my god," you begged, words suddenly returning to you. His fingers on your clit increased in pressure, but his pace otherwise didn't change, and you soon felt that third orgasm ripple through you, finally leaving you with no more to give. 

Your last fall from grace had him following you swiftly after, his lips finding yours as he crashed back down on top of you, hips stuttering as he drank you in like wine. 

The rest was a blur, really, sleep having claimed you so swiftly that you barely remember the words he had definitely whispered to you as soon as he caught his breath again. 

"I love you. It's always been you." 

Other than a vague recollection of him rearranging your legs so you wouldn't struggle to walk the next day, and the sensation of a cold, damp cloth on your skin, nothing besides remained. 

–X– 

It's unfortunate, really, that the memory came to you when you did, his lips on yours heating you up in a way that made you absolutely want to relive every experience he had given you. But paralyzed with shock, you'd had only one recon to choose a reaction, and out of fight, flight, fawn, or freeze, you'd gone for slam the door in his fucking face. 

Not your finest moment. 

Which is why after two minutes of listening to his confusion on the other side of the hall, your brain kicked back into gear and you started weighing your options. 

It would be wrong to open the apartment doors and pull him back in, right? It would certainly be wrong to pull him in and demand a re-do of the first time you'd forgotten. Would he even want to redo doing it with you? And what did he mean when he said "I love you." 

It was those words more specifically that scared you. You'd both been absolutely intoxicated when you'd fallen into the wedding chapel together and still remarkably unstable afterward presumably. There was a high likelihood that he hadn't known what he was saying, and taking a risk on a friendship for half a memory and wishful thinking wasn't a great calculation. 

But gripping the door handle, you realized your body had made the decision for you, completely overwhelmed by the need to see him again. 

When you opened the door, no one was there. Your phone pinged with a text as you looked around disappointedly, not finding him anywhere. Looking down at your phone, you cursed your own stupidity as you read his message. 

"Sorry. I won't do that again."

You typed out explanations and deleted them over and over for what seemed like an hour, guilt eating you up. 

Eventually, you threw your phone down in resignation, and, grabbing your groceries, started frantically planning your next steps. 

Step one: wallow in your own misery. 

Step two: crack open the single bottle of red wine in your pantry. 

Step three: beg for heavenly guidance. 

After the wine was opened, you picked up the phone again and shot off a quick emergency message to Penelope. 

"Pen, need help, may have just ruined EVERYTHING with Reid because I remembered our wedding night mid-kiss - long story. Mine, now? Xx"

You couldn't stand to look at your phone after that, putting it on silent and assuming the single time it flashed was confirmation that Penelope was on her way. After half an hour, you sprang from your seat at the sound of the door, making your way back to the scene of your most recent number one embarrassing memory. 

Only opening the door to Emily Prentiss, you were sure you'd just dethroned yourself. 

"You're going to have to start from the beginning or explain to me that that message had multiple typing errors, because just when did you and Reid get married, and why is it suddenly over now?" 

--X--

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