#he is never alone. not anymore 💕 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trivia-yandere · 7 months

Note

Hi!!!! Okay, first of all, I'm in love with your writing!!!!!! 💕💕💕💕And I was wondering (I've never done a story request so if it is horrible, please just ignore it 😅) but I was wondering if you could write a story of maybe yandereboyfriend/friend jungkook kinda forces older (not heaps but like 2-5 years older but shes just shy and confused when it comws to sex and intimacy) reader to loose her virginity to him and she likes it at the end?? If this is super uncomfortable, please don't even think about it 😅😶‍🌫️👉👈 or if you wanna do something completely different, I'd love your writing anyways!!!! 💕💕💕💕💕

hello! yes I can :) thank you for sending a request and being so patient! i feel like this yandere is more light than the usual lol

best friends!

jungkook doesn't like the idea of you wanting to loose your virginity to anyone that wasn't him. @momnomnom @sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @minshookie29 idol version

word count: 6.100

warning: naive/shy reader, mentions of watching porn, childhood friends jungkook + reader, smut scenes, coercion, masturbation, manipulation, light yandere tedancies, jealous jungkook, dub-con moments, dry humping, kissing, nipple sucking, oral sex, loss of virginity, rough sex, dacryphilia, fingering, unprotected sex, spitting,

“You’ll never be able to seduce a man, Noona.” Jungkook laughs boisterously, causing your face to heat up. “You’re just too shy.”

Jungkook’s eyes watch as your arms cross over your chest, any self-confidence you had slowly falling. He hums, turning over on his bed to face you. He then places a hand on your thigh. “Noona…”

“Stop calling me that, Jungkook.” you murmur. He knows that you prefer to be called by your name, but he’d often ignore you because of how much he enjoys teasing you, even after years of friendship.

“You’re upset with me.” says Jungkook.

“I’ve stopped calling you Kookie like you asked.”

Jungkook snorts. “That’s because the nickname doesn’t fit me anymore. I’m a man.” his hand squeezes your thigh. “Besides, I said stop calling me that in public. You and I are alone now.”

You and Jungkook have been friends since childhood, your father and his being great friends. The age difference never bothered you as much, and you’d often recall calling Jungkook your baby brother during his primary and middle school days - you having been homeschooled. It was when Jungkook grew in size and age and reached High School did he demand you stop calling him that but never gave a reason as to why.

Even now, as Jungkook and you are adults, the friendship remains. You went to him for whatever you thought you needed and he was there. Moving away from your father had been a big step and finding a job to support yourself was even bigger, but you were never truly alone because you had Jungkook - you and he living together.

Jungkook was the opposite of you. While your job consisted of you being home, he wasn’t. He made friends easily while you remained with a close knit circle. He was more social when needed and you often closed up around people you didn’t know. Most of your friends were Jungkook’s friends that he considered brothers - you recall asking him why he considered them family and not you. Jungkook didn’t give you any reason, stating that you’d never be a sister in his eyes, no matter if he knew you longer or not.

Now you and Jungkook lay in his bed, an action that he insisted on every so often, and watched tv. He’d often hold you, his breath tickling your ear with how close he was. A certain thought now laid on your mind and when you brought it up to Jungkook, his initial thought was to laugh at you.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Y/N.” Jungkook sighs. He pushes himself closer to you, the hand on your thigh firmly keeping you in place. “It’s just…you don’t go out much. You’ve been homeschooled your entire life and you don’t really have friends besides the ones I have.”

Jungkook continues. “You literally cried the first time I showed you porn.” he tries his hardest not to laugh at the memory of you and he, both in High School. You had come over to his home while his parents were working. Jungkook had asked you about it randomly, and when you insisted that you never watched something as normal as porn, he insisted that you and he watch together.

You’re flushed with heat at the embarrassing memory. “You…” you take a deep breath so your voice wouldn’t crack. “You told me it was just sex.”

“Is it not?” Jungkook knits his brows.

“They were crying!”

“In pleasure.” says Jungkook. “I should have started you off easy and not gone into bondage.” low, he begins to laugh. It’s a memory that he’s fond of. “But I don’t regret showing you either. It was the first time you came!”

A memory you wished Jungkook would forget - and stop bringing up. That same night he insisted on teaching you about masturbation, telling you that it was normal. You’ve never done so before, feeling weird about it all together, but Jungkook wouldn’t allow you to leave until you at least gave it a try.

“You even cried in pleasure.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, the scene flashing in his mind. How innocent you appeared, completely confused on what in the world you were doing. It was then did Jungkook tell you that he’d talk you through it. It took a half an hour of convincing, of course. Getting you out of your pants, then your underwear.

“Open your legs, Y/N.” Jungkook had said, grabbing your wrist. “Put your fingers right…there.” he places them onto your clit and you flinch at the feeling. “Then rub…” he murmured, his hand coaching you to rub until you got the hang of it.

Jungkook will never forget the sight and how hard he was at just watching you. Your breathing hitching, the low moans and the calls of his name. It’s a memory he cherishes with you - his best friend - and one of the main reasons as to why he’d never call you his sister; he had to dead that immediately afterwards.

“Who are you trying to seduce anyways?” Jungkook changes the subject and goes back to the original topic. “You found yourself a boyfriend?”

“No.” you quip. “I-I just want to have sex.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “Why?”

“You have sex all the time.” you retort. You didn’t like Jungkook’s question, nor the look in his eyes.

“I’m also not a virgin.” Jungkook fires back. “You can’t just have sex with anyone, Y/N. Don’t you think it has to be special?”

“Your first time wasn’t with anyone special.” you murmur. “Do you even talk to her anymore?”

Jungkook snickers. “Don’t remember her name.” he shrugs. “But you and I are different. Sex is different for women.” Jungkook says matter-of-factly. “You women create bonds with guys you give your body to. You can’t have that bond with just anyone.”

It was a conversation Jungkook and you had time and time again. As you got older, you were tired of being a virgin - and dating was never an option. Not because you couldn’t find a boyfriend - you could. You had men come up to you asking for your number and if you’d be interested in going on dates.

The problem was Jungkook. He lingered around you often, and you never minded. He was your best friend and each man that tried were always shot down by him, not you. “He’s ugly.” Jungkook said about one man. “He looks like he doesn’t even shower, Y/N. Why he thinks he can speak to you is beyond me.” was said about another. “Men only want one thing. They can tell that you’ve never been touched.”

“What about Hoseok?”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment, your question lingering in his mind.

Hoseok?

Hoseok.

Jung Hoseok as his friend - the man he calls his brother?

There’s a dark look in Jungkook’s eyes as he thinks about your question.

“Do you like him?”

“I love Hoseok.” you say calmly. “Like I love you.”

Jungkook doesn’t realize that his nails are digging into your skin until he hears you yelp. There was no way in Hell you love Hoseok the same as you loved him; the thought makes him want to gag.

“Why Hoseok?”

You aren’t sure how to respond. “I’ve known him for years.” was all you can think of. You and he were around the same age and he was nice, always smiling widely at you whenever he came around. “Maybe Namjoon?”

Jungkook swallows.

“You look at my friends often?”

There’s a change in Jungkook’s tone that has you cowering.

“I-I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Do you want to fuck my friends?”

You’re taken aback by the harshness in Jungkook’s tone.

“I…I don’t know anyone else but your friends.”

Jungkook snickers. He wasn’t going to allow you and Hoseok - or Namjoon, hell, anyone - to do anything. Hoseok is a man such as he is and the thought of his taking something precious from you was driving him wild. Wild because he knows that if you asked Hoseok, he would.

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “Hoseok has a girlfriend.”

A lie, but you’d never know that.

“Oh.” you appeared bummed. “Nam-”

“No.”

You swallow. “Jimin…?”

“Do you fantasize about them?”

You’ve know his friends as long as he has, and now he’s wondering when you had the thought of fucking them in your mind.

“I just want to have sex.” you sigh in defeat, not wanting to cause a fight with Jungkook.

“Why wouldn’t you ask me?”

Jungkook doesn’t care how unreasonably spoiled he may sound. You were his best friend, after all. He kept creeps away from you who wanted nothing but to wet their cocks. You were safe with him in the home you and he shared - he’d be damned if he’d allow a man to come in here and fuck you.

You’re silent, and Jungkook continues.

“You don’t love me.”

Your eyes widen when you feel Jungkook remove himself from you.

“I do.” you quip. “I-I just…I don’t have anyone else. I’m tired of not knowing what it feels like.” watching television with sexual scenes had you wondering if sex was truly as good as they made it seem. You recall hearing from Taehyung, another friend of Jungkook, that porn is often fake and not everything you see was real - but how could it not be when their eyes are rolling and they’re screaming with such passion?

“If you loved me, Y/N, you’d ask me.”

Your heart sinks when Jungkook lifts from his lying position. You hated arguing with him. He was someone you loved and trusted with your life - him being upset with you had your anxiety spiking.

“I thought you had someone you were seeing.” you admit. You recall seeing her a few times in the home. She never spoke, but then again neither did you. She would stroll past you to enter Jungkook’s bedroom and only ever gave you a small grin.

“Oh her.” Jungkook brushes past the statement. “I am. Somewhat.” he shrugs his shoulders. Her contemplated asking her out - she was decent looking and a good fuck. But he didn’t love her nor respect her enough to make her his girlfriend. He was just bored at the moment. “Why does that matter?”

The same way it matters that Hoseok had a girlfriend, you think. You want to say it, but you didn’t want to upset Jungkook anymore than he already was. “I don’t want to come between that.”

Jungkook wants to laugh. “I don’t love her. I love you.” Jungkook says, a tone in his voice that indicates that it should be obvious. “You are my best friend. You should be able to come to me when you need me. Not anyone else.”

You lift yourself up from the bed, as well, and you slowly nod your head. “Sorry.” you murmur.

Jungkook turns to face you, a full smile on his lips. “It’s okay. I’ll forgive you, Y/N.” Jungkook holds his hand out for you to grab.

You do, and Jungkook lightly tugs you closer. You and he are face to face now.

“Sex is more than just losing your virginity.” Jungkook’s thumb rubs your knuckles. “Sex should be pleasurable for both of us. Masturbation is a form of sex. You’ve done that already.”

You nod slowly, feeling hot.

“Tell me, Y/N.” Jungkook says. “When you masturbate, what makes you cum?”

You lick your lips, again embarrassed. You swallow while trying to find the words to answer Jungkook.

“When you watch porn, what do you like?” Jungkook changes the question up, and understands how shy you were - even with him.

Jungkook waits patiently for you to respond. “I-I…” you glance away from him. His eyes were always so piercing, like small black holes that can swallow anyone whole.

“Don’t be shy. We’re best friends, right?” Jungkook pulls you closer to him. “If you loved me, Y/N, you’ll tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

You nod. “Oral sex?” your words come out questioningly.

Jungkook nods. “Okay. That’s a start. Oral sex is a big part of sex. It’s a form of foreplay. Get things started.”

“I don’t think you should do that.” you’re horrified with Jungkook’s face being so close to your sex. Yes, he’s seen it before - years ago - but that was then. He was a man now and he’s had sex with countless women.

“Why not?” Jungkook tilts his head.

You’re silent, and Jungkook sighs. “You don’t trust me.”

“I do!”

“Then why don’t you trust me to pleasure you? You’d rather go to my friends than trust me, Y/N. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“I’m sorry.” you quip. “I just don’t think it…looks good?”

Jungkook blinks.

You swallow.

“Of course it looks good.” Jungkook then laughs. “I’ve already seen it.”

“That was years ago.” you murmur, casting your eyes away.

“True. But still. You trust and love me just like I trust and love you.” Jungkook places a hand on your cheek for you to look at him. “If we’re going to do this, you can’t hide your body from me. I’ll have to show you mine, too.”

You nod your head.

“We can start now.”

You inhale deeply. You don’t move, and when Jungkook notices he frowns.

“Y/N. What did I say?”

“Don’t hide from you.” you murmur.

“Exactly. Here. I’ll help you take your clothes off and you can do the same for me.”

Jungkook is slow when he puts his hands at the end of your shirt. He lifts it up and you stiffen, unsure of what to do next. The shirt comes over your head and Jungkook throws it aside.

“Okay?” asks Jungkook, his eyes glancing down to the bra you’re wearing. It’s red and basic, but it hugs your breast perfectly.

You only nod.

“Okay.” Jungkook then goes towards your leggings. They’re tight, but he manages to get his hands inside. He begins to tug and awkwardly, you lift yourself up so he can remove them. Your panties are black and cotton.

“Now you do the same to me.” Jungkook says. He understands you by now, knowing that you’d never take the first move. He grabs your wrists and walks you through it. “Go ahead.”

You’re trembling, you note, as you remove Jungkook’s shirt - an oversize black shirt. You often are reminded how much Jungkook has grown over the years, going from a boy to a man. He worked out often and was athletic. He had many tattoos that litter his skin - you had gone with him for a few of them and pondered how he could sit so calmly.

“I’ll get up to make it easier.” Jungkook lifts from his bed and waits for you to continue. You’re as slow as before, hands trembling more than before. You tug at the sweats he wore, watching as they fall to the ground. You try to hide the fact that you gawk at the bulge in his briefs, swallowing at the sight.

“Y/N.”

You blink up to look at Jungkook.

“You trust me, right?”

You nod your head.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you a grin. “Come here.”

Jungkook leans down, his hand grasping your chin. He no longer hesitates or holds back, placing his lips upon yours.

You’re shocked, completely stiff, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. You’ll give into him eventually - it may take a few rounds, but you will.

You’re pushed backwards, back hitting the mattress. Jungkook hovers above you, his hands placing themselves onto your shoulders to keep you in place.

You gasp for air when Jungkook removes his lips from yours, but then they’re trailing down your jawline to your neck. You’re breathing heavily, unsure what to do.

“You can touch me.” says Jungkook, as if reading your mind. “Don’t just lay there.”

Jungkook continues to kiss at your neck, his left hand leaving your shoulder and grabs your hand. He places it upon his chest for you to take the lead. His hand then goes to your waist to pull you closer to him.

Your heart thumps that this is happening now - you and Jungkook. Goosebumps litter your skin, the hair standing straight up. But you do as you’re told, hand grabbing Jungkook’s bicep and squeezing it.

Jungkook forces your legs apart, wrapping them around his waist. You yelp when you feel him, his bulge grinding directly against you. There’s a deep groan from Jungkook that you hear coming from your neck.

“You have to engage.” Jungkook lifts slightly to look at your face. “Kiss me like I’m kissing you.”

You’re left stunned when Jungkook flips the both of you, his own back hitting the mattress and now you’re on top of him. He places his hands on your hips, a smirk on his lips. “It’ll be easier for you this way. I’ll let you take the lead.”

There’s a tension - one sided - when you lean down to his own neck.

“You’re still shy. It’s just me.” Jungkook sighs.

It was easier for him to say. He wasn’t the virgin - or the closed off one that has been homeschooled. The only friend she kept was Jungkook, and his friends, but mainly Jungkook. There was no one she could go to that was the same sex that she could vent to about her frustrations.

“Just let loose, Y/N. We’re friends. There’s nothing you can do that’ll make me view you differently.”

You try your best, even closing your eyes in hopes that’d be better. Your lips place themselves at the nape of Jungkook’s neck, and ever so gently did you kiss him. You allowed your hands to rub softly on his bare shoulders, kissing down his neck until you got to his collarbone.

Jungkook hums to himself, his cock twitching to be let loose from his underwear.

You were adjusting - only a bit - but you’d soon be fully accepting. Jungkook allows his hands to dip from your waist and he grabs your ass fully in his grasp.

You swallow, hiding back the surprised gasp. You don’t want Jungkook to think you don’t trust him - because you do. You don’t want to appear utterly shy and closed off. You were older than Jungkook and he had to be the one to show you what life was like, as sad as it was.

“Okay. Now kiss me.”

You nod your head. You want to avoid Jungkook’s gaze, but he doesn’t falter. “You’ll have to look at me eventually, Y/N.” Jungkook murmurs.

“I know.” you murmur back, and now meet his eyes. Jungkook smiles when you do, and his head lifts slightly.

Your head dips down to capture his lips in yours once more. There’s a fire running through you this time at the feeling - no longer hesitant or awkward to kiss him. It felt…normal; as if this is something the two of you always did.

Jungkook’s teeth catch your bottom lip and he lightly tugs. “Let loose.” he whispers, and then dives into your mouth again. This time, his tongue pushes past your teeth and meets your own, it’s warm and slimy, but it causes you to moan.

Jungkook’s hands grip your ass, keeping you firmly against his erection. He rubs up your sides for a moment, then on your back. His hands are now on your bra and he appears to be swift in unhooking it.

“Kookie…” you murmur against his lips.

“It’s okay.” Jungkook responds. “You trust me, remember?”

You nod, but trust doesn’t help with your self–consciousness.

Jungkook tugs at your bra until it’s fully off of you. He disgards it, bare hands now taking your breast entirely. He doesn't care how heavy he’s breathing, or how rough his hands squeeze your breast.

“My pretty girl.” Jungkook praises.

It’s weird hearing it - for you at least.

Jungkook rarely compliments you - not because he doesn’t think you are, but because he never really has a reason to. He sees you the same everyday - his best friend who he has breakfast, occasionally lunch and dinner with. You’re the same Y/N that he shares movie nights with where the two of you cuddle and laugh at whatever was on the screen.

Now, however, Jungkook has to compliment you. He has to let you know how beautiful you are now - a woman. You grew into your womanly curves over the years, hiding it behind loose clothing, but never truly hiding it. You never hid from him; occasionally wearing shorts that showed your legs and the roundness of your ass, or tank-tops that made your breast appear more plump.

You yelp when Jungkook pinches your nipple. He chuckles at your reaction. “So responsive.” he says, more to himself than to you.

“W-What-”

Jungkook’s tongue licks on your nipple, shuddering at feeling. He couldn’t help but to bring it entirely into his mouth, tongue twirling and suckling on it while his free hand pinches the other. There’s a euphoric feeling engulfing him right now. Yes, he did think about you sexually at times - he was a man and he couldn’t help it. But this was far better than any feeling, any thought or dream he’s ever had.

“Does it feel good?” Jungkook manages to say, popping your nipple from his mouth to just engulf the other one.

“Yes.”

You don’t intend to sound so soft and meek, moaning against Jungkook. But you couldn’t hide it any longer. You can feel the wetness between your legs, arousal pooling out - and Jungkook’s grinding didn’t make it any better.

“You can talk to me, Y/N. You can tell me how much you like it. How I make you feel.”

Jungkook kisses both of your nipples softly.

“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me how you feel.” Jungkook repeats. “Here,” his right hand drops your breast and without warning, he slaps your ass. The sound echoes, as does you shriek. “I love the way your ass feels.” he then squeezes it in the palm of his hands. “I love the sweet moans coming from those pretty lips of yours.” he continues.

You’re hot, Jungkook’s words cause a new sensation to run through you - nerves running through your body and meeting exactly between your legs.

“It feels good when you touch me.” you say, admitting even if you want nothing more than to hide.

“Yeah?” Jungkook lightly laughs. He squeezes your ass again. “What else?”

You huff, this time now hiding your face. Your head is between his shoulder and neck.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. Just tell me.” Jungkook encourages. “You trust me like I trust you.”

You sigh. Jungkook was going to be the death of you - you were going to die with embarrassment.

“I like the way you look.”

Jungkook, again, is swift with his movement. He’s once more on top of you. He’s now forcing you to look at him - as if you weren’t embarrassed enough.

You go to cover yourself, but that wasn’t something Jungkook was going to allow.

“Go on, Y/N.” Jungkook places a quick peck on your lips before he kisses down your neck to your collarbone.

Your breath is shaky - but it was all Jungkook. His hands rub along your sides as his lips send kisses between your breasts, going lower and lower. “You make me feel…different.”

Jungkook’s lips are now on your stomach. “What’s different?”

“Wet…?”

Jungkook groans. His fingers are hooked between your panties and he wants nothing more than to remove them and dive in, but he’d remain calm for now.

“Look at me, Y/N.”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you’re unsure what Jungkook had in store for you.

You do, however, and Jungkook is now directly between your legs. Your thighs quiver at the sight.

“What do you want me to do?” Jungkook asks, and before you can answer, he places a single kiss upon your clothed clit.

Your throat tightens.

Jungkook wasn’t going to stop. He wanted to hear you speak - hear your thoughts, whatever moans you had in you. He didn’t want you to be shy - not with him. He wasn’t a stranger and who else should be the one to take your virginity than him?

Not Hoseok.

Not Namjoon.

Not Jimin - none of his friends.

Just Jungkook.

Dare he say he was entitled to it - you were his best friend. He was there for whatever you needed him to be; and this was one thing you didn’t come to him for (not at first). You wanted his assistance in finding you someone. The thought still upsets him.

“Kookie.” you sigh, hands crashing to your face.

“So shy.” Jungkook tsks. His hands grip your waist and he drags you to the edge of the bed, him falling to his knees before you. “I’ll take the lead.”

You feel your panties being tugged off. You’re unsure of what to do or say - you knew you had to keep breathing or you’d pass out. The coolness of the air hits you and now you fully accept that you’re naked for Jungkook, completely bare before his eyes to see.

You’re so wet, Jungkook notes, arousal coating your lips and thighs. The thought of how excited you’ve been and nothing has happened yet makes him groan, anticipating what's to come.

Your throat releases a gasp and instantly, your legs clench shut, caging Jungkook in.

“S-Sorry, i-”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Relax.” Jungkook laughs, a gleeful tone in his voice. He had done nothing but flick your clit with his tongue. “Watch me, okay?”

You nod your head.

Jungkook hooks his hands right on your thighs, holding them in a firm grip so you wouldn’t be easily reactive - not without him stopping you. He dips his head back between your legs, tongue dipping between your folds.

Your eyes flutter, unable to truly focus on Jungkook like he wants you to.

The sight alone is filthy - his head bobbing back and forth while his tongue assaults your clit. Occasionally, his eyes would dart up to capture your reaction, satisfied that you no longer hid your moans from him.

But the noises Jungkook made were another thing. He suckles on your clit, completely ravishing you as if it was the finest meal. He’s animalistic, not caring. He would draw his head back and spit, then continue his assault upon your clit.

“Kookie, I-I, you need to stop.” you try to get away from Jungkook, but he doesn’t allow it. If anything, Jungkook holds you even tighter. You were going to cum, of course, never truly experiencing a man going down on you. Your stomach churns and you feel like you are going to explode. “Kookie, please stop…”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker up at you. Your eyes are snapped shut and there’s a few droplets trailing down your cheeks. Jungkook grunts into your pussy. His fingernails dig into your naked flesh, his tongue laying flat against your clit. He continues to ravish you, not caring about your pleas - it was obvious you wanted more and was far too inexperienced to understand it.

Jungkook dives deeper and deeper, your cries only fueling him for more. Your arousal coats the bottom half of his face entirely.

There was another attempt to remove yourself, buckling your hips, but Jungkook only shoves you back down upon the bed. Your toes are curling and you’re unable to see straight. There’s a tightness in your stomach that’s utterly unfamiliar to you.

“I’m not going to stop.”

Jungkook’s voice is deeper - deepest you’ve ever heard it.

“Not until you cum.”

Jungkook’s right hand removes itself from holding your thigh, but that only means he’s holding the other tighter.

Your back arches when you feel his fingers at your entrance.

“I can’t-”

“You will.”

Jungkook doesn’t give a warning before entering his finger’s inside of you. You jump at the foreign feeling. You swallow back and shriek.

“So tight.” Jungkook murmurs to himself.

Two fingers is all you can handle for now. That doesn’t mean Jungkook goes easy on you. He pumps inside of you vigorously, your walls clenching around his digits. Each time he hits a deeper spot that has you jerking.

“I know it feels good, Y/N. My pretty girl.”

You can’t speak, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He pumps and pumps until you’re cumming all over him, arousal splashing onto the hardwood floors of his bedroom.

You’re a crying twitching mess, whimpering to yourself. Jungkook removes his fingers, satisfied with your appearance.

“I could fuck you right now. You’re so wet, Y/N.”

You exhale, eyes snapping open. “Kookie, I-”

“Don’t tell me you can’t take me.”

Jungkook pushes down his underwear and you freeze.

You’ve never seen Jungkook naked before, never going past witnessing him shirtless.

Now Jungkook is as nude as you, cock erect and hard. His tip is red and leaking with pre-cum, the shaft twitching in anticipation.

“I can’t.” you cry, now dwelling on the idea of having sex with the man.

Jungkook snickers. He grips his cock and slaps the tip against your wet clit. So wet, he thinks. Wet and warm, completely aroused because of him.

“You were willing to fuck my friends.”

Jungkook rubs the tip against your clit in slow circular motions. It makes a wet and sloppy sound as he does.

“They don’t love you, Y/N. Not like I do.”

You twitch at the feeling, overstimulated enough, even if it did feel good.

“Don’t you love me, Y/N?” Jungkook’s eyes don't leave your clit. He continues to tap and circle the tip of his cock against it, the sight beautiful.

“I do…”

“Then why do you keep denying me pleasure?”

Jungkook removes his hand from his cock to place it upon your hips, keeping you in place. He begins to thrust forward, sliding his entire cock against your clit.

“I allowed you to cum, haven’t i?” Jungkook grunts. “Milked my fingers like a little whore. But you won’t let me fuck you.”

Jungkook’s words cause you to gasp - that and the way his cock feels against your already stimulated clit.

Jungkook’s open’s his mouth, a trail of saliva dripping right onto your clit, not because you needed it - you were literally dripping - but just because he wanted to. In his eyes, spitting upon you was an act of marking his territory and after he fucked you - and he was going to regardless - he would assure that only he would be the one fucking you afterwards; always and forever.

Jungkook continues to rub, his pace quickening.

“Do you think another man would have given you the satisfaction?” Jungkook hisses. “They would’ve fucked you and left, Y/N. This is why I’m here. I love you, my pretty girl…” his tone softens. “...so wet and ready for me. You’ll let me have you, right, Y/N? You’ll let me be the one who takes your virginity?”

Slowly, you nod your head. Jungkook was someone you loved greatly. He was a man and understood how men think - you couldn’t be upset with him now. “Okay…”

Jungkook smiles wide, full set of teeth shining at you. “My pretty girl. You’re always so good for me. Give me your hand.”

You do as Jungkook tells you to do, and he guides your hand to touch his cock. It twitches in your grip.

“Tighten your grip.” Jungkook demands and groans when you do. “Okay, baby…now center it at your pussy.”

You’re being so obedient for him, Jungkook thinks. He watches as you do what he tells you, the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole. “Good girl.” Jungkook mumbles.

“Don’t you need to wear a condom?”

Jungkook wants to laugh at your words. “Condoms are for people who have one night stands. Why would I wear a condom with you?” he asks, a tilt of his head. He had no intention of allowing you to fuck another man, so him not wearing a condom was alright.

You widen your eyes. “Pregnancy…?”

Again, Jungkook laughs. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, only stares into your wide eyes. He had no intention of impregnating you now, but if it happened, then it did. That only meant that it’s what the universe wanted.

“You know I love you, Y/N.” Jungkook says.

“I love you, too.” you respond.

Simpering, Jungkook nods. “I know.” he says, and then without warning, he enters you whole. There’s no warming upm Jungkook thinks, the faster he gets it over with, the faster pleasure will come for you.

When your mouth opens to shriek, Jungkook silences you with his lips. His hips snap inside of you, unable to stop. So tight, he thinks, fully milking his cock with your essence. It’s as though his cock fit perfectly inside of you; like a puzzle piece coming together to complete a set.

The pain is excruciating and you’re unable to pull away from Jungkook. His grip on you was intense, fingers bruising into your skin.

The sound of skin slapping is loud in the room, echoing off the walls.

“My pretty girl.” grumbles Jungkook when he releases your lips. “Thank you for trusting me, Y/N.”

The pain shoots throughout your body, but hearing those words from Jungkook was worth it to you. You blink away the tears so you can focus on his face.

“Soon the pain will go away, and you’ll love the way I fuck you.”

You nod. You trusted Jungkook.

It takes a while for the pleasure to come, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t. Jungkook hits your sweet spot, slamming you against his bed with each thrust. Your moans are loud for him, so sweet and melodic - he knew you had it in you to let loose.

“Feels good, pretty girl?” Jungkook questions, the question rhetorical. He knows by the way you clench around him that it does - that and your high pitched moans.

“Feels…so…good…” you grunt, panting along with each powerful thrust.

“Good.”

Jungkook removes himself just so he can turn you around, chest firmly against his mattress. He enters you once more, hitting even deeper than before.

Your eyes snap shut and your arms shoot out, gripping the bed sheets for support. Whatever you once imagined sex would be like didn’t give it any justice. Sex with Jungkook was a pleasurable feeling you’d never forget - you’re unsure how you’d ever be able to go back to masturbating once this was over.

Both of Jungkook’s hands place themselves on yours, entangling your hangers with his. His lips kiss your back, pounding inside of you with such passion.

There it was again, the churning feeling in your stomach.

“I feel you, baby.” Jungkook pants. It’s as if you never want him to stop, creaming his cock like your life depended on it. “Go ahead and cum for me, pretty girl.”

You groan, shaking your head at how good you felt.

“I love you, Kookie.” you murmur so low that it’s barely audible, but Jungkook hears it loud and clear.

It causes Jungkook to grind into you deeper and deeper, feeling himself come undone at just words. You told him those three words many times before, but now it felt different. Intimate. This was something he’s never heard during sex - and if there was a chance he did, he wouldn’t care.

You were who Jungkook loved; his best friend since childhood.

You were the one who Jungkook wanted to hear the words from.

Jungkook’s cumming, his heaving breaths ticking the skin of your back. He doesn't bother to pull out of you, instead he milks your walls completely with his seed, shuddering with complete bliss.

Jungkook won’t regret it - cumming inside of you felt right. It wasn’t as if anyone else would be.

“My pretty girl.” Jungkook coos, pulling out of you to tuck you further into his bed. He lays beside you, embracing you from behind. “You did so good for me.”

Your heart swells at the compliment, your eyes heavy with slumber.

Jungkook holds you tight as you drift to sleep, satisfied that you were here with him.

Not Hoseok or Namjoon or anyone else - but him.

After all, he was the only one who truly loved you for who you are and didn’t see you as just a hole to fill - he wasn’t like those other men out in the world. No, Jungkook was better than any man you could ever think about being with. He proceeds to place a kiss upon your temple, satisfied that you were his and his alone.

idol version

#best friends!#trivia-yandere #trivia-yandere masterlist #btswritingcafe #bangtan smut #btswriterscollective #yandere bts #bangtanwritershq #bangtanwriters net #jungkook smut #btswritersclub #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bff jungkook #방탄소년단

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aemondtargaryenonlyfans · 26 days

Text

SET ME ALIGHT AGAIN.

Cregan Stark x female!Targaryen!Reader (Part 2 here)

"It was on request of your younger brother's small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And now it's at his hands that the haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s giving back to you. And you let it flood you."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; p in v, oral (fem receiving), angst (?), breeding kink, size kink, size difference, romantic fucking in front of the fireplace, afab reader, post dance of the dragons

WORDS: 4.8 K

NOTES: I dedicate this to @sylasthegrim. You're not only one of the few people I really grew fond of in the short time we truly got to know each other, but since both our minds basically came down to the same idea, this is for you! Thanks for beta reading this. 💕

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

You’ve been in Winterfell for a moon’s turn by now, and have quickly noticed that the ancestral castle possesses a beauty and calmness the Red Keep can be jealous of. But even that isn’t enough to make you feel at home – as if you could ever call a place your home again. Not after you’ve witnessed almost everyone in your family, no matter whether you liked them or not, perish at the hands of each other.

It was on request of your younger brother, now dubbed King Aegon the third, or rather of his small council that Lord Cregan Stark agreed to take you to the North with him to prevent you from succumbing to grief like your aunt did. And while you’re grateful for the chance to flee the one place that has caused you more hurt than good, riding in a carriage up to the far North like a commoner wasn’t exactly pleasant.

But how else should you have gotten there when your precious mount died along its kind as the common people stormed the Dragonpit?

For the past month, you’ve very rarely seen the sun – or anyone else than your maids.

Your days are spent in your chambers, not leaving the safety of the Guest House as you often try to find the sleep you can’t seem to get at night. And during the night, when the Hour of the Owl strikes and no light other than that of the moon reaches Winterfell, one often finds you wandering the quiet halls of the castle. Sometimes one even spots you outside in the Godswood, regardless of the low temperatures that make the three pools fed by an underground hot spring look even more inviting.

But warmth and comfort are never what you’re after.

You feel incredibly daring tonight, sitting beneath the ancient weirwood tree on one of its roots. Although there is a thick fur coat draped around your frame, the thin nightgown beneath does not allow you to be kept as warm as one usually desires, your bare feet hidden inside of the coat not a big help either.

Tiptoeing barefoot through the snow was the hardest part, but it was worth it as it gave you exactly what your body longs for.

You’re far too absorbed by the reflection of the moon dancing on the pool of black water beneath the tree, and the peaceful allure of the snow-covered night that you don’t notice you’re not alone anymore.

“Princess?” a husky voice rings out from the shadows, one you’d even recognize in a room full of loud and drunken men.

Almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, the tall frame of the Lord of Winterfell approaches you without any sudden moves, becoming more visible with the moonlight shining down on him. “What are you doing out here this late?”

Only when he’s stopping not far away from you do you avert your eyes from him to the water again. “I could ask you the same, Lord Stark,” you reply softly.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest at your remark, and you can’t help the tint of heat hearing it brings to your cheeks. “Indeed you could,” he says. “I have not slept well, and the night has a peaceful allure. But you should not be out in the open without any guards, especially not this late at night.”

You drag your index finger through the snow at your side, drawing a mindless pattern in the dark as you do not pay any mind to his words. “And why is that, Lord Stark?” you ask, a certain snarkiness to your tone. “There is nothing worse that could happen to me than what I have already endured.”

Cregan sighs, and even in the dim light you can make out that he’s scratching his stubble covered chin. “And yet, should something else happen to you, I would not like myself for neglecting you and not protecting you just as I have sworn to the king,” he explains. “Besides, there is a cold chill in the air that I can not believe you are not feeling right now.”

“Perhaps that is the answer you’ve been looking for, my lord,” you mumble. “Perhaps I came here to feel something.”

The Wolf of the North doesn’t immediately answer you. Instead, there lingers a pause between you. But it’s not uncomfortable or feels as though it doesn't pass, no, you find yourself to actually enjoy his company.

His next words, however, even surprise you as you didn’t think he was capable of it. “Feeling the cold of the snow has its way to make one feel alive, that much is true,” he agrees, and then looks up to the dark sky. “You wish to feel something else than the pain of the absence of the people you’ve lost in this war, I understand… I think.”

His words make the feeling of emptiness, the hollowing ache of loss just worse, while at the same time, he seems to know the feeling of craving pain when you’re just so used to it.

“This cold bite, the chill that lingers on the skin — no one should want to feel it, Princess. It makes even my bones shake, do you know that? Surely you must be shivering, and we should be getting you inside. I should be getting you inside.”

You know he‘s right. While his words are blunt in nature, they are very much that of truth. You shouldn’t be out here, nor should you want to be out here. There‘s nothing to enjoy about this cold chill and the snow, not when you‘re as sparsely dressed as you are. You‘re not yet used to the chill of Winterfell, of the North.

Cregan offers you his hand, but you‘re still hesitant to take it. Albeit you reach out, your significantly smaller hand hovers over his, not yet grabbing it. “You‘re not exactly wearing proper attire to be out in this wretched cold for very long,“ he remarks. “Let me help you get up, your feet must be in agony by now.“

“And what if I don‘t want to?“

“Then I will still get you up.“ There is a tinge of amusement in his voice now, seeing this little bit of rebelliousness from you, your strength of mind. Even if he doesn’t exactly approve of it. “I shall simply pick you up myself, throw you over my shoulder, and carry you inside to your chambers, even though I‘d get you quite angry and don‘t imagine you want me to do just that.“

You don’t believe he actually has the gumption to do something like that at first, although you know he’s able to muster a decent amount of strength that would easily allow him to lift you up. But then, you wonder if he would truly do it if challenged. “Try that, if you dare, my lord.”

He lets out a snort of amusement, enjoying the teasing that slowly shapes between you two. It still is a challenge, and as a man of his station, he could never let words like this go unspoken. “Oh, I dare, Princess.”

Putting forth his arm, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and easily pulls you forwards onto your feet without applying too much pressure. You’re certainly caught off guard by his actual willingness to lift you up, and a squeal escapes your lips before you’re tossed on his strong shoulder as if you are some silly, helpless girl.

Cregan carries you through the Godswood and towards the Guest House, though you don’t resist too much as you’re hanging there over his shoulder – a part of you is grateful you don’t have to walk through the snow with your bare feet once more.

“Lord Stark, put me down at once!” you demand with a little twinge of laughter in your voice. You feel so light, much lighter than you imagine he’s used to lifting up, almost as if it’s taken all of the pressure off your shoulders.

But when there doesn’t come an answer from him, you grow slightly frustrated. “What if anyone sees, you madman!” you remark, embarrassment warming your cheeks.

“Madman? That’s rich coming from the woman who was willing to freeze to death in the snow,” he says jokingly, approaching the large doors. “Who do you think could see us at this hour, princess? The rats? And what if they do? What if someone sees me carrying the poor princess, who had the gall to get out of her bed after midnight and wander the Godswood while in her nightgown?” Although there is amusement in his voice, you also notice the faintest hint of flirtation laced within. “Will they judge me for carrying her, or would they judge her for her imprudent midnight excursion?”

You stay silent thrown over his shoulder, not sure how to reply. You thought you had a good comeback, but it seems Cregan is one step ahead of you. The flirtatious teasing you’ve heard catches you off guard, not expecting to hear it from him at all. It makes your cheeks flush with even more embarrassment when you notice that he’s actually right. But you don’t want to admit the truth in what he’s said.

“You mock me, but you shall see there would be much scandal if someone were to see this,” you retort, trying to keep calm as you’re now a little bit flustered by these sudden developments. “Besides,” you say, trying to remain unbothered and nonchalant, “who says I won’t tell a tale of you being the imprudent one?”

“Ah, you little rascal,” Cregan replies with a chuckle, giving your thigh a tight squeeze. “I see you’d find a way to turn the tides and have it end up with me being the bad guy, taking my chances on a vulnerable woman in the guise of protecting her.”

You’re clearly enjoying the teasing a tad too much, enjoying these quick and witty back-to-backs with him, taking your mind off of your grief. Drawing in a deep breath, you hold onto Cregan’s thick coat. “What would you have been protecting me from, Lord Stark?” you ask with feigned innocence. “Were the trees too menacing that you just had to sweep me off my feet to carry me away from their clutches?”

“No, I am afraid it was not the trees that had me worried, Princess,” Cregan replies as he brings you further into the Guest House, easily opening the door to the sleeping quarters with one hand. “The cold was the greater menace, and it had you in its grasp.”

Your words die in your throat when he puts you down on your bed, the soft furs very welcomed beneath your cold feet. You look up at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest as he towers over your significantly smaller frame, and you wait for him to make the next move.

There’s a moment of silence between you, obviously he’s considering his next words.

And boy do they disappoint you. “I shall make sure a fire is lit for you to warm yourself, princess,” he says, turning around to approach the hearth on the other side of the room.

Cregan crouches down to build and start a small fire in the hearth that should last the night, not wanting you to stay too cold. But you wouldn’t be a thoroughbred dragon if it didn’t mean for you to take any risks. And so you get onto your cold feet, the coat still draped around your shoulders sliding down to the ground.

Feeling a bit too exposed too quickly, you grab one of the thick fur blankets laying on your bed instead and wrap it around your frame, before you tiptoe towards the large wolf kneeling in front of the fireplace.

“I have something different in mind,” you speak softly. Cregan, startled by your words and your sudden approach, turns around and faces you as he rises to his feet. You reach and bury your hands in the collar of his coat, the blanket falling to the ground in the process, and when you use your grip to pull him close, you find that he does not shy away in the least – if anything, he follows the tug to connect your lips in a heated kiss.

He brings his large hands to your waist with ease, and presses his body against yours. The wolf feels like he’s drowning in you, in your lips, your warmth, your presence and scent. Wanting to lose himself in the moment, in you, his hands wander lower to your hips.

“I did not expect you to do this tonight,” he breathes against your lips, breaking the silence.

“And I did not expect some things from you tonight either,” you reply, breathlessly, voice breaking with every breath you take. “Is that a bad thing?”

His voice is low and smooth as he speaks, shaking his head. “Quite the contrary.” There is a flirtatious smile on his lips, and a playfulness you haven’t seen before in his gray eyes. It’s as if that small spark between you has quickly evolved into an inferno that now burns bright in the both of you.

It’s a fierce and burning kiss when your lips connect once more, fueled by the fires coursing through your veins. You release a soft whimper with his large paws trailing over your sides, feeling the fabric of your nightgown.

“If we continue this, I won’t be able to stop myself,” he rasps.

You tilt your head back to look at him, a cheeky grin on your lips. “Perhaps I do not want you to.”

Cregan’s eyebrows raise at your reply, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist once more. He can’t help but feel a jolt of arousal run down his back, which prompts him to release a low chuckle. “Well, if you wish for it that much…” he whispers in response, before pulling you back toward him, kissing you passionately.

A breathless chuckle slips past your lips as you pull back from him, licking your kiss swollen lips. “But there are a few things we need to get you out of first,” you tease, tugging at the thick, furry coat that’s draped over his broad shoulders.

“Are you this eager to have your hands over all of me?” he replies with a flirtatious smirk, but still unclips the coat and lets it fall to the ground. He doesn’t mind you seeming quite intent to get him out of his armor, allowing you to fumble with the clasps and buckles, and eventually helps you remove the heavy bits until he’s left wearing nothing but his breeches. But even those are quickly unlaced by you, left to be a puddle around his feet.

“My my, do you not feel a little too hot still, Lord Stark?” you tease, letting your fingers wander over his exposed stomach. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping onto your cheeks as you see him in such little clothing, so exposed. He’s a muscular man, tall and large, and the sight of his bare skin with the dark of hair on his chest and a trail of it running below his undergarments is a welcoming one.

Through the linen you see that he’s already hard and begging, waiting for you to take things further. Truly a shame you seem to relish in the teasing.

Goosebumps prickle on his skin in the wake of your finger, making you smile. You drag your finger along the waistband of his undergarments, hooking it beneath to tug on it. He knows what you desire, and he’s not ashamed to give you just that. “I do not see you so eager to remove your own clothes, Princess,” he teases, undoing the laces in the front for his undergarments to join his breeches. “It is hardly fair you want to see all of me, yet I am not allowed to do the same.”

You take in a sharp breath at the sight of his hard cock, standing to full attention. It has you licking your lips. Batting your eyelashes at him, you’re quick to pull your nightgown over your head, a smirk on your lips. A flimsy piece of linen conceals what lies between your legs, but it’s still enough for him to all but devour your almost bare frame.

“There,” you whisper, “now we are on equal grounds.”

Cregan takes a moment to look over you, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts fully exposed mto him. He knows you’re no maiden who’s completely untouched, you wouldn’t be as confident if you were, but it doesn’t stop him from appreciating the sight in front of him.

“Equal grounds, truly?” he asks you, taking a step toward you. One arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him, as his other hand fists the linen of your smallclothes. “I think you still have an advantage over me, Princess. Because I have yet to see what lies beneath your undergarments.”

Your palms rest flatly against his chest, and you press a chaste kiss to his skin. “I will not stop you, Lord Stark,” you whisper, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Then let’s make these ‘equal grounds’ a little bit more equal, hm?” Cregan whispers as well. He sinks to his knees with his mouth trailing a path down your body, licking and kissing over your skin until he reaches your navel. His large hands trail over your sides and thighs on his way down, the movement and sight making your breath hitch in your throat.

A shudder ripples through your body as he tugs your smallclothes down your legs, and while you watch him with your hands buried in his dark curls, his eyes are all but focused on what’s between your legs.

He drapes one of your legs over his broad shoulder, his dark blown eyes darting up to meet yours, and before you can make any teasing remark, his mouth is on you. A gasp catches in your throat. “Cregan, please,” you whimper, forgetting all courtesies the moment his tongue drags through your slit. There’s no softness, no gentleness in the way he all but devours your cunt, the previous teasing having made his patience run thin.

Your head tips back in pleasure as his tongue alternates between sliding into you and swirling around your pearl, noticing both options have you grind your hips against his face. The tip of his nose rubs so perfectly against your pearl when his mouth pays attention to your entrance, and Cregan’s fingers dig into your flesh with your body tensing up already, keeping you steady.

The Wolf of the North growls against your cunt as if he’s truly turned into one, devouring you with all he’s got, the sheer pleasure brought by his tongue and lips taking over you.

As you look down at him again, you find him already staring up at you, watching you carefully as you slowly but surely unravel on his tongue. It’s intense, but you’re captivated enough not to break eye contact.

“Gods, yes, I–” you whimper, and fall apart all over his tongue with a shudder. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s paws on your body, you would have lost balance by now, especially with the way he seemed to work his tongue in and out of you faster just in rhythm to his nose rubbing your pearl.

He pulls away from you slowly as your peak subsides, and with his beard and lips glistening with the remnants of your arousal, how could you not pounce on him right then and there?

He supports his body with one arm placed on the ground and stretches his legs as you push yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his strong neck. The taste of yourself on his tongue makes you moan against his lips before you deepen the kiss.

Cregan’s hard cock is nestled between your bodies, and you can’t resist wrapping your hand around it, stroking him once, twice, before you shift your hips and slowly sink down on him.

Muscular arms completely wrap around your waist, making you very well aware of the size difference between the two of you. You’re significantly smaller than him, and relish in the feeling of being safe and protected with him around. You two haven’t been too close upon your arrival in the North, but it seems that there has been a hidden attraction lingering for quite some time.

You know your hips would sooner or later become sore from pumping him with your core, hence you stick to rocking your hips back and forth with his cock stuffed deep inside you. It’s intimate and slow, but with the coarse hairs around the base of his cock dragging over your pearl with each swivel of your hips, you’re still racing for completion.

While he mouths along your jaw and the curve of your throat, one of his hands comes up to cup your breast. Rolling the perky bud between his index finger and thumb, the slight sting works wonders to amplify the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“By the Seven,” you whimper, grinding your hips against him with more determination.

There comes a sharp hiss in return from him, barely audible between the open mouthed kisses he presses to your collar bones. You’re clawing at his shoulders and neck by now, scratching it despite the sensuality of your movements, and it feels as though you’re even drawing blood. But he doesn’t care about that – he rather enjoys having a woman that doesn’t hold back.

Trailing his lips up to your throat, he nudges your chin with his nose, prompting you to tip your head back. “It’s not them you need to pray to right now, Princess,” Cregan rasps, a clear strain to his voice. “But perhaps I should take that as a compliment, hm?”

His words cause you to chuckle, and you’re grateful that he’s quickly distracted by kissing your throat again, because otherwise he might have noticed the heat his words bring to your cheeks. “If that is…” you trail off panting, burying your hand in his curls to tug his head back, forcing him to look up at you. The sight of his dark blown eyes hungrily gazing at you sends a shiver down your spine. You feel desired. “If that is a compliment, then I shall have to say it much more often.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact you state wanting to compliment him more often, or if he’s just not used to having an appreciative lover in general, but your words seem to flip a switch inside of him. You quickly find yourself lowered on the fur blankets, warming your back while the flames heat up your skin and Cregan your blood.

Nestled between your legs, he’s growing more determined now, the sensual rocking of your hips clearly not enough for him, but you don’t mind it. As much as you enjoy being in control, setting the tone, you also revel in following the lead.

He’s propped up on one elbow, supporting himself as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips that make his cock drag so expertly against the sweet spot inside of you.

With one hand, you hold onto his broad shoulder, digging your nails into his skin, while the other gropes at his chest, teasing his bud just like he’s done with yours before. The feeling of his coarse hairs beneath your fingers feels somewhat strange at first, for Aemond hasn’t had as much chest hair as Cregan does, but it’s also comforting.

The familiar coil in the pit of your belly tightens slowly with his hips snapping into yours over and over again, split open by his hard cock.

“Will you fill me up, my lord?” you moan breathily, arching your back with your breasts pressing against his sturdy frame.

Cregan releases a choked groan at the question, and for a moment you can feel his hips stutter. You briefly wonder if you’ve pushed your luck too far, especially with him not replying immediately, until his raspy voice cuts through the heavy pants and moans.

“Only if you let me take you to wife, Princess.”

You inevitably clench down around him as a small, hiccuped gasp catches in your throat, resulting in Cregan drawing in a sharp breath. The haze in your eyes is replaced by an emotion you haven't felt in so long, an emotion he’s now giving back to you. And you let it flood you.

Your hand comes from his chest to his biceps, holding onto it as you gather your thoughts. His hips haven’t slowed down one bit, and he’s truly expecting you to answer as if he wasn’t repeatedly impaling you on his cock right now.

Staring up at him with wide eyes, your voice isn’t any louder than a whisper. “It would be foolish of me to turn this offer down,” you reply.

An impish smirk dances along Cregan’s features. “Is that meant to be a yes?”

“Y-Yes, it is, “ you whimper beneath him, arching your back once more.

The warmth of his body, his weight and scent cloud your every being, and his thrusts are determined and harsh enough to render you speechless, your mind and body completely claimed by him.

His hand snakes between your bodies, aiming for your sensitive pearl. Though the coarse hair around his cock has granted you at least a bit of friction, it’s not enough to bring you to your peak. His thumb circles over the little bud, fully coated with your arousal, and the thread in your belly is close to snapping.

“Then I just might,” he grunts in return.

Your body jerks at the sudden touch, but his muscular frame between your legs is enough to keep you pinned to the ground. “I need you… Cregan,” you whimper, bringing a hand behind his head to pull him down for a heated kiss. Your lips hardly part to release whimpers and moans, swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure without any shame. “Let me give you a spare.”

It appears that your words give him a new-found vigor that leaves you gasping, the pace of his hips increasing. As you start to roll your hips against his thumb, you not only create some friction that feeds your pleasure but his as well. It’s not long after that your peak washes over you with a soft gasp, walls clenching around him like a vice.

With your small frame trembling between his strong arms, Cregan releases a strained grunt, his own peak being milked out of him by your cunt fluttering around his cock. He keeps on dragging his thumb over your sensitive pearl, prolonging your peak and the pleasure that comes with it.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as you’re milking him for every drop, because there’s something so vulnerable in this wolf of a man, towering over you with his skin glistening with sweat, so desperate to fill you with his seed and breed you.

The last jolts of his peak force him to languidly rut his hips into yours, desperately chasing the feeling of bliss that courses through your veins. His chest heaves with every heavy breath he takes, and the dark curls are damp and fall into his face.

Only as Cregan is certain there’s not one drop of his seed left inside of him does he slowly stop his ministrations, and the hand that has toyed with your bud seizes your hips, stilling them.

His erratic breaths fans over your sweaty skin with his lips pressing to your temple. The feeling of being whole with him doesn’t leave you, not when his weight pins you down and keeps you grounded, easing your tumbled mind.

“I shall welcome the arrival of any child you bear me,” Cregan says, inevitably breaking the silence.

A smile spreads across your lips as you wrap your legs around his hips, and your arms around his neck. “Be careful what you wish for. My children will certainly be just as stubborn as me.”

His heart is practically pounding against his ribs, and he can feel himself on the verge of being lost by your touch alone again. You make him go wild and feral, your bold and flirtatious nature bringing out another side to him that’s completely unexpected. And yet it feels so right.

The teasing banter brings a smile to his lips and a light to his gray eyes, your wit and humor shining through. “Let them be stubborn, then,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “They only need to be half as feisty as you, and I shall be the happiest man in Winterfell.”

932 notes · View notes

tootiecakes234 · 4 months

Text

Your Ex-boyfriend Katsuki Bakugo

The ex boyfriend who acted like he couldn’t care less when you told him you were leaving.

The ex boyfriend Katsuki, who told anyone that asked that about you, to shut the hell up.

Ex boyfriend Dynamite who was on the front page 2 weeks later because a reporter wouldn’t stop asking him about you.

Ex boyfriend that still has to see you often because you have the same group of friends.

The same ex boyfriend that can’t keep his eyes off of you when you’re around. And he tries, he really really tries but it’s instinct to always know where you are and if you’re safe.

Ex boyfriend Dynamite that uses chunks of his patrol time to follow you when you’re out and about. You never even notice him, but he’s there.

Ex boyfriend Katsuki who gets drunk one night and calls you sounding like he’s in tears. Spilling his guts to about how he’s so so sorry, and you’re still all he thinks about. He knows you always deserved better than him and even though it’s ripping his heart out, all he wants is for you to be happy.

Katsuki who can’t meet your eyes the next time he sees you because he remembers every word he said to you and he knows it doesn’t make a difference.

Ex boyfriend whose heart nearly stops beating the first time Mina mentions you have a date because he can’t believe it. You’re moving on.

You’re at a party when he finds you outside alone and tells you that if any of the guys you’re dating ever do anything to hurt, he will hunt them down and end them. Fuck his hero status.

Ex boyfriend who ends up chatting with you for a good long while time and then you laugh and he hasn’t heard that laugh in so long. It melts the ice he’s been feeling in his chest since you left.

Ex boyfriend Katsuki that kisses you in the midst of you laughing.

The man you melt against because it’s second nature. He keeps kissing you as long as you’ll let him because he knows, this is probably the last one he’ll get.

Ex boyfriend who cuts you off before you call that kiss a mistake and says he won’t do it again. He just wanted to say goodbye.

But then you kiss him again. When you pull away you tell your ex boyfriend that maybe you want to try again but you both have a lot of work to do. That it can’t go back to being the way it was or you’d leave and there wouldn’t be anymore chances after that.

“Ex” boyfriend Katsuki who swears on his life that it won’t be the same. That he’ll be whatever he needs because he doesn’t want to live this life without you.

Fiancé Katsuki Bakugo who still thinks of those 4 months without you as the worst 4 months of his life.

Fiancé that 100% keeps his promise and proposed to you 2 years later to the day and was honestly shocked that you said yes because in he is still convinced you could still do better than him. But if you were willing to settle, he’d give everything he had to try and be enough.

*i tried with this but honestly, I ain’t leaving that man.😭

Katsuki Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added the the tag list💕

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

#imagine #bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou drabble #drabble #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugo headcanons #fluff #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo

1K notes · View notes

dannyricsmirrorball · 8 months

Text

tying the knot • cl16 part 3 ੈ✩‧₊˚

ੈ✩‧₊˚ pairing || charles leclerc x gasly!reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ genre || social media au

ੈ✩‧₊˚ summary || baby fever is a disease and it’s contagious!

alt. y/n is pierre’s younger sister. there’s no way she’s dating his best friend aka her childhood friend… right?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ warning || google translate 😬 again lol

ੈ✩‧₊˚ a/n || so initially thought this would be the last one but alas it is not… so one or two more party’s left! also charles on POLEEEEE LFG

NOT PROOF READ YET!

part 1 part 2

liked by francisca.cgomes, luisinhaoliveira99, and 276,646 others

yourusername honeymooninggg

francisca.cgomes missing u babyyyy

⤷ yourusername i miss uuuuu kika bby 💕

username8 y/n and her mystery husband are sooo cute

username91 god i have seen what u have done for others

landonorris y/n jpg coming????

⤷ yourusername u wishhhh

arthur_leclerc have fun love birds 🐦🕊️😘😅

carla.brocker so stunning y/n/n 🤍

charles_leclerc safety hazard in the first pic mon beux

username16 charles and y/n honeymooning b4 the break is over, they’re so cute 🥹

⤷ username55 y/n charles shippers still exist?

lilymhe COME BACK NOW

⤷ yourusername soon!

⤷ alex_albon really. how soon is soon?🙄

⤷ yourusername blah blah haterrrrrr

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe, and 126,727 others

yourusername past couple months

username91 oh to be y/n gasly 🫠

⤷ username18 not gasly anymore!

⤷ username91 omg that’s right but we don’t know what her husbands last name is!!!

⤷ username52 maybe she didn’t change it? or got it hyphenated?

⤷ username16 y/n leclerc. sounds pretty good to me.

username9 always a ferrari gal ❤️

francisca.cgomes hotttt

isahernaez linda 😍

username9 even tho i’d love to know who he is, i still love the cute pics y/n posts of her and her husband

⤷ username82 they’re kinda like instead of private but not secret, they’re secret but not private LOL

username63 they’ve sucked her into there padel mania oh no

liked by carlossainz55, georgerussell63, and 186,870 others

yourusername cute stuff

tagged carla.brocker, charlotte2304, lilymhe, alex_albon, charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes

username16 the charles shirt 😭

username73 more charles x y/n content. we are winningggg.

username72 ahhh i love all her friendships especially w alex and lily

maxverstappen1 nice shirt 👍

username23 love that y/n is always some how w alex and lily

⤷ alex_albon she doesn’t leave us alone

⤷ yourusername you love meeee

charlotte2304 mi manchi, bella ragazza

⤷ yourusername i miss uuuu

alex_albon ur welcome for the shirt y/n/n ✌️

⤷ charles_leclerc 🤨

⤷ alex_albon it wasn’t all me!!!

⤷ charles_leclerc don’t worry alex, ik lily was the mastermind 😒

⤷ lilymhe what’s it to u???! it’s funnyyyy

charles_leclerc never letting u take the wheel again

⤷ yourusername boooo whatevaaaa

liked by joris__trouche, yourusername, and 11,829 others

mlnmarta un début octobre sur la côte d'azur ur

translation: an early october on the french riviera

tagged riccardobenetta, charles_leclerc

yourusername mon coeur explose 🥹❤️‍🔥

yourusername baby c 😭

yourusername je vous aims tellement ❤️❤️

⤷ mlnmarta nous aussi ❤️

username16 y/n freaking out is so realllll

joris__trouche boubouuuu 🥹

charlottesiine bébé chiara 😍💕

username11 omfg charles w a baby. i’m on the floor.

charles_leclerc 🤍

liked by luisinhaoliveira99, alex_albon, and 192,082 others

yourusername ma petite fille 🩷

tagged yourfriend1

username17 y/n w kids 🥰

yourfriend1 give her back!

⤷ yourusername never!

francisca.cgomes so cuteeee 💘

landonorris don’t drop her 😳

⤷ yourusername how could u even suggest it?!

leclerc_pascale tu es le prochain 😉🥰

⤷ yourusername maman! 😅

⤷ lorenzotl 😂

⤷ arthur_leclerc better get to work 😉🤣

liked by lilymhe, yourfriend1, and 175,982 others

yourusername auntie duties 💐

tagged yourfriend1, yourfriend2

username27 she’s so pretty

username74 baby fever arising

yourfriend2 u can take them for longer!

⤷ yourusername i just abt might take them forever 🥹🥹

⤷ yourfriend2 oh that’s not-

francisca.cgomes perfeita 😍

yourfriend1 coolest aunt out!

landonorris they trust u w their kids?!?

⤷ yourusername ur parents trust me w u?

⤷ alex_albon owned.

liked by mlnmarta, yourusername, and 887,838 others

charles_leclerc pourquoi tous nos amis ont des bébés?

translation: why do all our friends have babies?

tagged mlnmarta, riccardoberetta, yourfriend1, yourusername

username18 lmfao y/n and charles rlly are just surrounded by a bunch of babies and toddlers

username15 i’m actually dead at the amount of charles and y/n x babies content we’ve been getting

username54 charles acting like we don’t know he has the biggest baby fever ever… i mean look at talk the reels he likes

⤷ username7 same as y/n like that baby fever has KICKED IN

riccardoberetta ❤️

yourusername 🥹

username82 does no one else find all these baby posts from y/n and charles a bit… suspicious

⤷ username72 no? u guys need to get over this agenda, like they’re just childhood friends

pierregasly surprised u know how to hold one mate

⤷ charles_leclerc cant say the same for u

landonorris y/n looks like she’s going to eat the poor thing

⤷ charles_leclerc i think she wanted to 😅

⤷ yourusername U DIDNT SEE HIS LITTLE CHEEKS 🥹

mlnmarta 😍

liked by friend1, luisinhaoliveira99, and 198,827 others

yourusername j'en veux un

translation: i want one

tagged yourfriend2, mlnmarta

yourfriend2 😳 ummmm please return my baby b4 u say these things…

⤷ yourfriend1 don’t trust her.

⤷ yourusername whatever do u mean… ☺️☺️

username9 ik we were all joking abt y/n having baby fever but i fr think she does

username88 girly just got married and she already wants a baby LMFAO

⤷ username72 i mean i would to if charles leclerc was my husband

⤷ username2 average delulu charles y/n stan

username82 that pic of charles and baby c moved and changed y/n and that is so relatable of her

⤷ username26 literally SAME

landonorris have u seen ur laundry room?

⤷ yourusername shut up. you’re literally a child.

pierregasly oh? 😀

lilymhe MILF MILF MILF MILF MILF

⤷ yourusername LET’S BE MILFS TOGETHER

⤷ lilymhe OMFG YES

⤷ alex_albon oh! 😃🤨

username18 don’t mind her. she’s going through a phase 😬

danielricciardo i knew there was a reason u begged to come back to the farm w me! u wanted to steal my nephews and nieces 🫨

⤷ yourusername they’re just so cutieful 🥹🥹

username17 wild y/n on the loose! hide ur kids!!!

joris__trouche u guys are too much 🤣🤣

⤷ username91 what does he mean ‘you guys’… when i tell u everything is piling onto my charles y/n agenda 😗

mlnmarta si mignon, baby c tu manques 🌸🌸

⤷ yourusername I MISS HER 🥹😘❤️

liked by lorenzotl, charles_leclerc, and 19,092 others

charlotte2304 what a weekend 🏎️❤️

tagged carla.brocker, francisca.cgomes

carla.brocker 🩷🩷

username17 where’s y/n lol

francisca.cgomes 💕

lorenzotl ma belle

username72 leclerc wagsss so pretty

username01 where’s y/n?!

username18 y/n has NEVER missed monza. where is she?!

username89 leclerc wags w/o y/n 🥺

liked by pierregasly, alpinef1team, and 198,038 others

francisca.cgomes 🇮🇹

username9 the prettiest gal in the paddock

username14 her fits 😍😍

username16 miss y/n and kika in the paddock together

⤷ username81 please it’s one race 🙄

pierregasly 🤍

charlotte2304 😍

carla.brocker 💘

username17 i needddd her dress

luisinhaoliveira99 so pretty 💘🌸

liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63, and 109,882 others

lilymhe p7 for my mansssss 🍝

tagged alex_albon

username23 his good luck charm!!!

username41 she looks so bored w/o y/n

username18 lily where’s y/n?!!!

⤷ username16 fr where is she?! she never misses monza!

alex_albon 🐐🐐

williamsracing monza minister of defenseeeee 📣📣

2 years later // 2025

liked by lilymhe, isahernaez, and 239,092 others

francisca.cgomes famfun&friends

username53 sweetest couple

username18 missing y/n and kika hoursss

username21 it’s been two years. where is y/n hiding!!!

username14 every time kika or pierre or lily or like anyone posts i cross my fingers that y/n is in a pic and i’m always disappointed

pierregasly ma belle 😘

lando.jpg pic creds??

⤷ francisca.cgomes desculpe lan

⤷ username17 if u had told me 2-3 years ago that lando and kika were mates i would’ve been shocked

⤷ username4 it’s all thanks to y/n… she brought together all those random pairings bc they were all friends w her… and now she’s no where to be found 🫠

charles_leclerc stop taking my man 🤬

⤷ francisca.cgomes then give me back my girl!!!

⤷ username16 GIRL?!? 😳

⤷ username68 charles has a gf?!

⤷ username45 OMFG

⤷ username63 it’s y/n guys… like trust meeeee

⤷ username78 pack it up granny

⤷ charles_leclerc no girlfriend

⤷ username16 OH?! officially confused.

liked by alex_albon, carmenmmundt, and 109,838 others

lilymhe recent 🌃

tagged francisca.cgomes, alex_albon, carmenmmundt, heidiberger_, charles_leclerc

username1 i’m actually so emo bc where tf is y/n

username82 lily hanging out w charles has rlly reminded me how much i miss y/n. like what happened? where did she go!!

username17 all the best wagssss

alex_albon ✌️

heidiberger_ ilyyyyy

⤷ lilymhe mwahhhh

username76 all of them hanging out without y/n feels sooo wrong

⤷ username73 it’s been TWO years bro like get over it

⤷ username14 how do u know that she’s not there? they might just not post photos of her bc she wants privacy lol

⤷ username54 WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING!! like everyone has been throwing a hissy for the past two years abt y/n and where she is but like are we forgetting that kika is her sister-in-law and pierre is her literal brother also she grew up w the leclercs and lily has been her best friend for like over five years - i guarantee she just doesn’t have a presence on social media but is surely still in their lives

charles_leclerc traitor! i look like an idiot

⤷ lilymhe well i mean…

⤷ charles_leclerc wounded

francisca.cgomes miss u ml x

carmenmmundt 🤍

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari, and 8,092,260 others

charles_leclerc no words. ❤️

tagged f1, scuderiaferrari

username18 “for the first time ever, charles leclerc is champion of the world!” was music to my earssss

username61 LFGGGGGG

username92 ⭐️boyyyyy

username16 il predestinato fulfils the prophecy

scuderiaferrari il formidable, il predestinato ❤️❤️

carlossainz55 deserved hermano. felicidades!

pierregasly félicitations mon frère 🫶

lorenzotl waouh charles ❤️🤍

landonorris congrats mate 😘

francisca.cgomes congratulations charles!!! 🫶💘

joris__trouche bravo mon beaux 😉😘

yourusername jamais été aussi fier de réaliser vos rêves! champion du monde ❤️ toujours à vos côtés 🤍

translation: never been prouder, fulfilling your dreams! champion of the world. forever by your side

⤷ charles_leclerc pour toujours

username71 UMMMM Y/N???!!

username8 after years of radio silence the first sign of y/n is her congratulating charles on his wdc 😭😭 they are soulmates, u cna not make this shit up

alex_albon 🔝 job charlie

lilymhe 👏👏

arthur_leclerc bon travail frère ❤️🤍

leclerc_pascale mon bébé 🥰

georgerussell63 let’s gooo 👍👏

lewishamilton 💜

username16 the way y/n’s comment is the only one charles replied too 👀

taglist: @chalecbooks @lxclerc @1655clean @dl-yum @honey6578 @lillianacristina @xcinnamongirl @glitterf1 @christianpulisic10

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #alex albon #george russell #lando norris #daniel ricciardo #lily muni he #formula 1 #f1 x reader #pierre gasly #kika gomes

2K notes · View notes

anika-ann · 1 month

Text

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 8k

Summary:

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and landing a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body and the water and snow and icy wind would for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons. With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest pair of blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to then one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head. “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down?

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

#CT 2024 raffle entry #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #soulmate au #soulmate steve rogers #the unexpected #anika ann

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aonungsmate · 1 year

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Hello I was wondering if I could request an Ao’nung x Reader, maybe reader could be Tsu’tey’s daughter from a woman he had mated with after learning of Neytiri’s and Jake’s mating, he had a woman that he had loved but he couldn’t have because he was betrothed to Neytiri. And that love bore fruit to our reader who is very close to the Sully family especially with Kiri whom she always defends when being teased by other children. She joins Norm and Max to the metkayina clan. And she’s just this badass with an ikran that was theorized by others to be the spawn of The great leonopteryx that Jake had tamed once. And Ao’nung is flabbergasted by this pretty na’vi riding such a dangerous animal? When the battle happens, she goes ham on the RDA and SAVES NETEYAM BC GDI LEAVE MY BOY ALONE and when they return theres a whole celebration and reader finally relaxes and shes been surrounded by curious na’vis alike bc phew baddie ‼️💅🏻 and ao’nung is such a simp tryna talk to her and rizz her up and it’s just ao’nung pining over her ackk

Destined for Might and Him

Ao’nung x Tsu’tey’s daughter!reader [Word Count: 3.1k]

🤷‍♀️uploading this after 123456789 years of draft!! Enjoy reading another rubbish fic😚💕

Warnings: mentions of death, spoilers

Jake has made countless mistakes since he joined the Omatikaya for his mission. Tsu’tey had never approved of him, until he actually saw him. He was betrothed to Sylwanin first, then came the humans, taking her away from his arms, Neytiri being the next suitable partner for him. As if there was a curse following him, a demon swooped Neytiri from him, though they were not that subtle. He has never seen Neytiri the way he looked at her older sister though.

Third time’s the charm, right?

In Tsu’tey’s case, it is. Being the next olo’eyktan meant he would be interacting with the entire clan, making sure that they felt safe even before his rule, heavily dedicating himself to making the hometree the most secure and comfortable place for their people. That’s where he met your mother, the forbidden fruit he’s always afraid to touch, only to see. He did not think it was right to look at another woman when he was promised to another man’s daughter. He was afraid that she would be too dainty for him to pursue.

Only to see, he said.

The third time he planned to mate with a woman was in the middle of the conflict. Right after he learned about Jake and Neytiri’s mating, he stormed off, not without giving Jake a good beating of course. It is when he actually had the chance to follow his heart, free of expectations. He soon learned that she too, was in love with him since he passed his iknimaya, hiding it from the rest of the clan as soon as she realized that she could not have him. Not without betraying the daughter of the olo’eyktan. So she comforted him, became friends with him instead. With his pride broken, he took everything that he thought would put his pieces back to being worthy of a warrior. Eywa, did it feel good to follow his heart and tell your mother how he really felt. So that’s why Sylwanin used to talk of mating as if it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Somehow as he reminisced, he has really begun to see himself growing older with your mother. So, he set himself a new goal. To protect his love, and his people. Neytiri did not matter to him that much anymore, having moved on from the ghost of the past, accepting Jake Sully as his brother once again, deciding to fight against the sky demons with dreamwalkers whom Eywa have shown promise in.

What he did not expect was you. So imagine his surprise when he came home, your mother guiding his hands on her torso, telling him, Think you can handle one more, ma tsu’tey?

And so, the war came. Battles were won, people were lost. Including the mightiest warrior your mother has ever known. Your father, too young to be taken by Eywa, but alas. It was time for him to embrace the great mother’s comforting presence. He thought it was a shame it would take him years before he actually gets the chance to clutch you in his arms. He’s long entrusted you to his brother though. He made sure Jake promises him to look after you and your mother after all.

A beautiful young na’vi, born into war, just a few months before Jake Sully’s first son was born. You were then named, (y/n) te Rongloa Yenateu’ite. You were a carbon copy of your father, your mother actually exclaimed Tsu’tey’s name when she saw you having the eyes and seemingly permanent daring look your father had. You never really knew your father. Your mother would speak highly of him every night, stories and songs written by her, dedicated with her love for her long lost love. You would see her casting a longing gaze at the walls of your tent whenever she braids your hair, telling you of her and her past love’s nightly escapades when the people would head to their tents to sleep. Amazement and sheer pride written on your face when hearing of your father.

That’s when your mother would sigh audibly, completely defeated that you would always be a daddy’s daughter even without meeting him.

It has been a few weeks since your adoptive family moved to Awa’atlu to seek uturu. Your mother has long passed away, developing a sickness a few years ago. Life in the waters for them was not easy, having new responsibilities and things to work on, especially the breathing.

You were the seventh Toruk Makto, for Eywa’s sake.

Your iknimaya was going perfectly, along with Neteyam. Neteyam proved himself to be a mighty warrior, having wrestled with one of the toughest-looking ikran in the rookery. Kiri showed that she had the strongest connection to Eywa when she ‘befriended’ an ikran at a very young age, earning the title of tsakarem. You, on the other hand, basically confirmed the undeniability that you were Tsu’tey te Rongloa Ateyitan’s daughter, after an unusual occurrence in the ikran rookery. The “most dangerous iknimaya”, as Mo’at would say. As soon as Txop’alei sealed his bond with his ikran, as you stepped through the narrow path, a large ikran– No, a Toruk towered over the ikran rookery, making all of you yell in surprise followed by hisses from Neytiri behind you, and screeches from ikran fleeing away.

Your heart skipped a beat when you crossed gazes with the Toruk, stepping forward cautiously as its vibrant orange reflected on your yellow eyes, examining its slightly emerald green tinges on its wings. Soon enough, you were greeted with a threatening roar, making you gulp as soon as you realized that you were being chosen. Wrestling with an ikran is one thing, but with the great leonopteryx? It’s like a death sentence. Maybe it’s your mom or dad calling for you through Eywa, but would the warrior side of you really give up this thrilling opportunity?

Xi’di. That’s what you named your Toruk. Neytiri says it looked familiar. She thinks it’s a child of her mate’s Toruk. Mo’at says it’s your fathers gift to you from the other side when she pointed out how similar the green tinges match your father’s ikran colors.

You were more than happy to get to know your friend, Xi’di, through sneaking out and having late night flights. It wasn’t long before you were exposed to war, with Jake asking you to spot demon machines when the stars multiplied in the skies, together with his sons Neteyam and Lo’ak, brothers you would consider them as.

“Stop the useless yammering and out with it,” you spoke, jutting your chin upwards to emphasize that you were a greater warrior than he is.

“I saw your ikran,” Aonung inhaled deeply, petting the ilu swimming around the two of you, “it is bigger than the others” he pointed out, his incorrectness making you roll your eyes. You thought it was pathetic that he would attempt to hold a conversation with you after participating with yet again another standoff with your brothers. Your ears flickered slightly at the sound of celebrations around you, children laughing as they danced around.

You huffed at his curious glance, “It is a Toruk,” you smiled wickedly at his reaction, “Surprised that a girl smaller than you is a better warrior?” He scoffed at you, a mocking smile written on his face as he changed the subject back to something related to breathing.

The Metkayina chief’s son was not as who you expected him to be. He was arrogant, condescending, the complete opposite of what Neteyam was like, as the former olo’eyktan’s son.

“You wish,” he smirked, remembering how you checked him out earlier in the day as he raised the nets, his toned arms making your heart gallop. “Metkayina men are known for having mighty arms,” he boasted, too absorbed with himself that he somehow missed how you bashfully avoided eye contact for a second, a blush overtaking your cheeks as he continued on and on about what he has achieved, and his goals to be realized before and after he becomes olo’eyktan.

Regardless of the boastful and proud demeanor, Ao’nung lives up to his status though, having the toughest feats than the men his age, hunting the most, sparring the best, donning the most pleasing face in the clan and all, not that you would admit that to his face.

You remembered the faint voice of your father echoing from the tree of souls, telling that he might not be able to handle it if a pompous na’vi were to win your heart, you were Tsu’tey’s daughter for Eywa’s sake. Nobody would be worthy of you if he was actually there to guard you from presumptuous young men. So, you heed your father’s vivid wishes, promising yourself that you would be in your most sound and logical self when it comes to matters like this. Jake would always nod at you with pride when he hovers to size up your suitors, as soon as he witnesses you reject potential mates.

No wonder he and your biological father grew on each other.

You were not keen on migrating to another clan, only knowing the forest since you were born. You were angry. Furious, that the sky demons were responsible for your family's pain. You would never hold that against your adoptive father though. You loved him more than anything in the world, together with your half na'vi brothers and sisters, but you could not give up the forest. And so, you held your ground and decided to stay with the Omatikaya people.

Since the Sully's arrived in Awa'atlu, your siblings have received nothing but a flurry of insults and looks of disgust from most of the village people. Especially from the chief's son.

As the eldest sister, you felt responsible for making your brothers and sisters feel safe. Back in the forest, you would glare at every stupid boy who would dare sneak up on your sister and call her a freak, you would cast the most frightening look on your face when people would point at your youngest brother. But the most important of all, you would smile the sweetest directed at your younger siblings.

So when you heard of Kiri's situation from Norm, you immediately called upon Xi'di and braved the waters to come to where your family was. Horns and spears were let out when the Metkayina guards caught sight of a large beast coming upon their island, terrified yells from people left and right were heard, except for Lo'ak who let out a laugh of disbelief when he laid his eyes on the majestic Toruk. The colors were oh-so familiar, clad in a saddle that screamed Omatikaya, a dangling string of beads around its neck, the diversity of materials that came from none other than him.

A loud roar resonated within Awa'atlu, startling Neytiri who was busy tending to Kiri. She frowned at the thought of you, thinking that she was imagining things.

"Did you hear that Ma'itan?" Her question was answered soon enough when she noticed him running towards the crowd outside and exclaimed, "Sister, you have come!"

And there it was.

Ao'nung almost snapped his neck at how fast it turned when he caught you in his peripherals. His eyes almost bulged out of its sockets at how fast it widened when you turned your eyepiece upwards as you broke the bond with Xi'di.

"My mighty warrior! It has been too long baby brother," you slung your arms around Neteyam's frame, telling him how much he's grown in just a few months. Gladness and worry was written on your face when he brought up Kiri's situation, "You mean she had a seizure underwater ?!"

Ao'nung noticed how your waterline easily filled up with tears waiting to be shed when you approached the marui where Kiri was currently being taken care of.

What made his feelings definite was the brief eye contact with him that you shared though.

"Thank you, great mother! Thank you!"

You wailed with your family, hugging each other where Neteyam was lying down, grateful that your family has been once again blessed by Eywa. The sky people had wrought destruction in just a matter of a few weeks since your arrival in Awa'atlu after you decided to stay until you have reassured Kiri's well-being.

You were feeling beyond terrified at what had just occurred. You saw your brothers and sisters getting chased by the demon machineries, three of them tied on the huge ship that drove on the waters, spurring the darkness inside you as you fought and fought and fought until you have ensured that they were all safe.

Your brother, Neteyam.

The brother that you have known the longest, shot near where his heart lies, sealing RDA's fate when you saw your brother wheezing on a rock, who wanted nothing but to come home. You were soon enough blinded by rage, together with Neytiri who channeled her anger to retrieve her daughters who were left on the ship.

Everything was a blur that night. Guns and armies thrown left and right, ships exploding, taking hundreds of lives, both na’vi and human. You didn’t think you could have handled it well without the guidance of your father. You felt rage and hurt. Seeing your brother writhe in pain, shivering in the numbing coldness of the water raging against the rocks, you felt like you have just had your heart thrown away.

Your childhood friend Spider, getting sliced across his chest. Your mother, completely having her judgment clouded over her dying son, her daughters, desperate to be freed from the arms of a demon who somehow took pleasure in making your father's life null.

Then it was all submerged in the harsh waters.

You cried out for your companion and rode your Toruk, circling around the sinking demon ship, tears continuously flowing in frustration.

Where was everyone?

You swore you almost lost your mind, but then you remembered.

They were Omatikaya. They will survive.

So, you swallowed the impending grief. You forced yourself to think clearly through the bond, Xi’di responding with the loudest roar it could muster, and swooped down towards the direction of the rocks where you Neteyam laid.

At the sight of Neteyam, you cried.

It was that day when Ao'nung first saw you cry in Neteyam's arms, who was also sniffling at the thought of almost dying and missing out on his siblings' lives. He ruffled Tsireya's hair as she cried in relief, thankful that his sister was also safe.

The people cried. The people mourned. The people had their reunion with their families.

Sully’s stick together. And stick together, you did.

All of you were safe.

“You okay, kid?” Jake mumbled against the top of your head, embracing you and Neteyam as soon as he climbed up the shores, to which you responded by sobbing and hugging him tight. Neytiri had Neteyam against her chest, kissing his forehead, thanking the great mother all over again.

You turned your heads at the sound of water splashing once more, revealing Spider.

“Monkey boy!” Kiri exclaimed, smiling at the sight of her friend, pressing a hand against his chest. You untangled yourself from your father, fussing over Tuk and Neteyam as you see Lo’ak and Spider get squished against your father’s chest.

As you pressed your lips against Tuk’s forehead, you somehow met Ao’nung’s gaze, casting a soft smile at him as you observed him rubbing Tsireya’s shoulder in affection as she cried in his arms, completely being washed over with relief and mostly just overstimulated from the war you had just gone through.

And soon enough, it was time for a celebration of their victory against the sky people.

Fires were started, wood were piled up on one another, the children holding hands together as they sing praises to the great mother, celebrating the victory of their people, ever grateful for the safety of who remained, and prayed for the guidance of Eywa to help those who were lost, to come home to her warm embrace.

Ao’nung fixed the headdress he was donning, a symbol of his status, as he sat beside his sister, scanning his gaze amongst the sea of his people.

And then there was you.

Your eyes were piercing as you held your gaze, the brutal reality of his feelings slowly sinking in as you tucked one of your freshly braided hair, his eyes slowly trailing over the accessories you saved for occasions like this.

Did you have different sets of necklaces for ceremonies?

Were they of rare materials? Because he has never seen a woman this beautiful, he wondered.

He was so struck with your fierceness he did not notice that he was the only one left on the mats laid out on the high platform that was planted on the sand for celebrations. He placed a hand against his left knee, slowly rising from his spot to walk towards you, perhaps ask for a dance?

You were speaking to him as soon as he stopped walking, him blurting out a question he’s been meaning to ask, only to be responded with a huge hit to his ego.

“Surprised that a girl smaller than you is a better warrior?”

He never let people step on his pride.

Not even his sister whom he closetedly doted on, completely overtaken by the idea that ‘he’s a man, so he should not be seen as vulnerable’. He soon learned that that shouldn’t be the case though.

With you to pursue? He’s going to relearn everything, it seems.

You were different.

But perhaps those differences would be the factors to taking him a step closer to you.

To a future where you and him embracing under the starry skies as constellations meld together as one during the darkest of the nights, would be a normal occurrence between the two of you.

That, you did.

Months of building himself up in your eyes, and you finally learned to see him as he hoped you would.

“Good, because I see you too,” you remember him saying those exact words after you practically swept him off his feet, his pretentious demeanor once again taking over to spare him of your teasing, not that it went by unnoticed.

You knew him too well.

So when he promised to take care of you, you knew he would.

Just like when he promised to not spoil his first son to the point that he’d grow up like him, you knew he’d end up eating his words.

You knew him, after all.

You see him, in both light and darkness, you see Ao’nung.

•

Edit: 💀somebody pointed out a misplaced paragraph so i went to remove that one ohmygofd

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belit0 · 10 months

Note

hello!! how are you?? i really like the way you write and i wanted to make a request 🫂 (only if you have time) where the Uchihas react to a drunk reader, she doesn't recognize them and they tell them that the leave her alone because she has a boyfriend, he's the best in the world and things like that (i hope you get the idea 😭).

remember to take care of yourself, drink water and rest!! 💞

I hope I got it right 👻💕

You too nonny, take care of yourself💕

Also, HC revealed, Shisui is into CNC play🙌🏻

Indra

- First of all, why (Y/N) is drinking? Women don't drink. Second, who the fuck is this oh-so-nice boyfriend? It takes him a while to realize she's talking about him, because in his head they're already married and about to start a family. What do you mean boyfriend? Her beloved husband and future father of her children, more like? He is not even a little bit amused, but helps her gently get into bed so she can go to sleep.

Madara

- Girl... girl! How he's going to laugh at her in the morning... Madara takes advantage of the drunkenness to get everything she thinks about him out of her, and loves to hear all the wonderful qualities of her "beautiful boyfriend the Uchiha king." If this is what she genuinely thinks of him, he eats up every second like it's a sweet cake. He continues to serve her alcohol only to see what her limit is, and helps her when (Y/N) ends up throwing up.

Izuna

- He's just as drunk, and says the same stupid things. It's only the next day when he looks at his cell phone and sees all the videos they both recorded he realizes the idiotic speech they both had. Just as (Y/N) was telling him to stay away because she has a boyfriend, he was telling her the same thing, rambling on about his beautiful girlfriend and all her qualities. Hilariously fascinated by the loyalty they both have for each other.

Obito

- He gets jealous of himself. Yes, it's great to hear how his girlfriend talks about this fantastic man she's dating and living with, with whom she shares everything, but he hates how he wants to give her a kiss or a hug and finds himself rejected by his own woman, WHILE SHE DESCRIBES HIMSELF! Obito decides to never let her get drunk again to this extent, and helps her with a cold shower because he can't stand her rejection anymore.

Shisui

- He takes full advantage of it to tease her. Shisui's ears are sweetened by every word of appreciation and glory his girlfriend chats about him, but he also likes the role of the bad boy who tries to make her cheat on him... with himself? The Uchiha will judge his woman's willpower, but not negatively, but because he enjoys every attempt (Y/N) makes to get away from him, yell about her beautiful boyfriend, and tell him he doesn't even look like him?

Itachi

- Aw man... When Itachi realizes the level of inebriation his girlfriend is carrying around, he respects the space she's asking for, but with a bit of irritation. He has such a good tolerance for alcohol, practice, drunk people make him desperate, more so if it's his girlfriend, even worse if she won't let him get close because of her boyfriend (him). He'll go along with the story, put up with the ridiculousness, but they'll have a talk in the morning about it.

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bluebeary-jay · 6 months

Text

Face to face

Din Djarin x f!Mandalorian!Reader

Summary: as riduurs, you and Din can finally show your faces to each other without suffering any consequences. but when the time finally comes, your insecurities and fears of rejection come into play, threatening to ruin this important moment

Tags: just pure tooth-rotting fluff, Din and Reader being insecure, they're sweethearts though and so in love, Din being a supporting husband <3, mandalorian customs are probably half-accurate but i did my best in research 😌

Word count: 3K

A/N: haiii guys!! long time no see 🤗 i had this idea ever since i watched s2 of the mandalorian almost a month ago and i'm finally done! thank you to all who stick around and i really hope you'll enjoy my first attempt at writing din (feel free to let me know what you think 🤭)! i love all of you darlings 🥰 and as always, happy reading!! 💕

Din Djarin wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he always wanted a family. The memories of his parents were hazy, but he remembered how much they loved each other and in the depths of his soul longed for a connection like this someday. Being the bounty hunter didn’t give many opportunities to look for a relationship, however, and with time he abandoned the hope for a place and people he could call home. He convinced himself that he was content being on his own.

But then the Child came along, and with it everything has changed. This little wrinkly womp rat became the most precious being in his life and Din was ready to die to protect Grogu – but he never expected that he’d also meet his future riduur because of the kid.

He did. You, a fellow Mandalorian Din spoke to only a couple of times in the hideout on Nevarro, decided to help him on his quest, and from this moment on he didn’t stand a chance. You were everything Djarin admired – brave, compassionate, skillful and kind – and though you both respected the Way of the Mandalore and never removed your helmets in each other’s presence, he knew in his soul that you were beautiful as well.

It was a long road to come to terms with what he felt for you and gather the courage to actually let you know it. But it was all worth it just for this moment when you exchanged your vows and he officially became yours, and you his. Now you were his riduur and he finally had every right to admire and cherish you like you deserved.

And most importantly, he could finally see you. The pair of you talked about this moment a lot during the nights spent on the Crest, tangling your fingers together when the ship was flooded with pitch-black darkness. Din used to whisper to you of his dreams, how he longed to run his eyes over your uncovered body, taking his time to commit to memory every little detail of your physique and expressions. You, with a giddy and wistful tone, told him how impatient you were to at last find out how his lips would feel on yours and what color his eyes were. Even when you both knew you were going to marry, you didn’t rush things and never removed your helmets until your union became official.

But you did see each other’s faces, once, though not in a conventional way. Din remembered it clearly as a day, though his eyes – as well as yours – were covered by a piece of a material the entire time. Both of you were desperate for each other that night, the tension hanging above your heads straining the resolve about waiting. And then came the moment when you didn’t fight it anymore. Instead, you both sat down on Din’s cot and without your sense of sight spent the next hour talking and trailing fingertips down each other’s faces.

Din reminisced about this moment a lot of times. He tried to remember the shape of your features to create a full picture of you in his mind while he laid alone in his bed, longing for your vicinity. Even if your bodies were separated only by the layers of beskar, it was still too far for him.

He didn’t have to wait any longer now.

It was the day of your wedding and Din Djarin never felt happier than in that moment when you recited Mandalorian vows and he got to touch your bare hand again, not covered by a glove, to put a custom-made ring on your finger. It wasn’t a necessary but he wanted to make this day memorable and meaningful for you. A few tears of joy were shed, but his face was still concealed by the helmet, allowing his emotions to take hold of him.

He hadn’t let go of your hand since the small ceremony (if one could even call it that) ended, and you squeezed his palm every few steps as you walked toward a house that was going to be your home for the next couple of days. The Child was being taken care of by other Mandalorians so that you could be completely alone for this special moment.

You were buzzing with excited energy for the whole week prior to your wedding, but now Din could sense his partner’s nervousness. He wasn’t exactly surprised – after all, it has been years for both of you since anyone saw you without your helmet on. But with every moment that you neared the bedroom, you seemed more insular, more withdrawn and hesitant, and Din started to really worry.

“Are you okay, cyar’ika (darling)?”

You slowed down, not answering right away, which caused Din to furrow his brows with confusion. Maybe you didn’t want to do it after all? Maybe it was too sudden for you? Or maybe he came off as too eager?

“Cyar’ika,” he repeated softly, wanting to put you at ease – but it didn’t seem to meet the target. “If you’re not ready…”

“No. No, I’m ready. I just…”

You trailed off. Din wordlessly guided you to the edge of the bed, cradling your hands in his – one gloved one and one not. The light of the setting sun flowed in through the small window and reflected off the hard beskar you both wore, bathing your figure in a beautiful golden light.

He was already so in love with you. What could possibly be the cause of your hesitation?

“I’m just nervous,” you murmured at last with your head bowed, looking at your joined hands. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” the Mandalorian repeated before he could think, and shook his head slightly. “What are you… What are you talking about? Why would I ever be?”

You lifted your gaze, and though Din couldn’t see your eyes, he could almost feel the weight of your fears on his own shoulders. The modulator in your helmet was hiding any trace of it, but he knew you long enough to recognize the tiniest shift in your body language.

“Ner kar’ta (my heart). I could never be disappointed with you.” He laced his fingers with yours, once again admiring how perfectly they fit together, and lifted them to his chest. “You own my heart and soul now, and nothing will change that.”

He hoped to soothe your nerves, but you were still silent. It wasn’t at all what Mando was expecting from this evening and he was at a loss for what to do to fix it.

“Would it help if I showed you my face first?” he asked after some time, and your head snapped up.

“No.” Even with the modulator, your voice clearly sounded broken and regretful, and it was wounding Din more than anything else could. “We were supposed to do it together.”

“We can,” he assured quietly, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. “But the most important thing to me… is for you to feel comfortable during it. If you want to wait–”

“I don’t.” You untangled your hands from his hold and instead brought them to his chest, placing them on the beskar breastplate. He couldn’t wait to take it off and feel your touch on his skin. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t marry you and make you my riduur.”

You leaned forward and lightly bonked your helmets together, a sweet gesture Din loved since the first time you did it.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum or’atu an mayen. (I love you more than anything.) More than life itself.”

“I know,” he answered simply and delicately brought your hands to the edges of his helmet. It was obvious what he was offering you. “That’s why I’m willing to do it for you.”

You were still, not daring to move, and Din nodded slightly to show you that he’s certain of his decision. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, though, and he could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck.

Showing your face to others was one of the worst crimes in Mandalorian culture, but doing it with your riduur was the highest honor that not everyone was fortunate enough to experience. But Din Djarin was among the lucky ones. Even though it was not in a way he always imagined, he didn’t care as long as you were happy.

You gripped the edges of his helmet tighter and a high hiss sounded, a telltale sign that the metal piece was ready to be removed. And slowly – so very slowly – you did. Din felt a flow of cooler air on his hot skin: first his chin, then his cheeks, finally his forehead…

And lastly, he inhaled shakily before lifting his head to look into the void of your visor.

A second passed by. Then two. Then ten, though Din felt like it must’ve been a full minute now. And still you didn’t move, just watched him silently, motionless as a statue.

The Mandalorian swallowed with difficulty, starting to feel very self-conscious. The crisp air cooled the sweat gathering on the nape of his neck and he had to use all his self-control not to fiddle his fingers nervously. He felt so naked and exposed under your gaze, though he absolutely shouldn’t – you were his riduur and there was no reason to feel ashamed or insecure with you. But he couldn’t help worrying: what if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you didn’t find him attractive at all?

Then a movement of your hands drew his attention and he watched, transfixed, as you slowly started to take off your glove, tugging one finger off at a time. Once your hand was freed from the confines of the protective material, you flexed your fingers before lifting both of your palms to his face.

Even though Din was acutely aware of your every move, he still somehow flinched in surprise at your touch, causing you to freeze and search his eyes with the air of concern around you. He quickly gave you a small nod, silently begging you to proceed, and, thankfully, you did. Your fingertips traced his cheeks, so delicately it almost tickled, brushing down the path to his stubble, and then back up to the arch of his nose and eyebrows. Djarin’s eyelids fluttered closed and he let out a shaky breath, giving in to the most amazing sensation that your touch was.

“I knew you had to be the most beautiful being in the galaxy,” you whispered from under your helmet with a voice filled with a plethora of raw emotions. Din regretted not being able to see your face at that moment, but if it would help you feel more comfortable in such a memorable and important situation, he was ready to do anything for you.

“I’m sure you’re a million times more radiant, cyar’ika,” he said back. His voice was weirdly weak and raspy, sounding strangely to him – probably because he knew there was another person hearing him without his helmet on. “Even if I don’t see your face, mesh’la (beautiful), today or ever… The love I have for you will never change or waver. That I promise.”

“It won’t exactly be fair to the Creed if I don’t remove my helmet in front of my husband,” you answered, half-teasing, but Din knew there was a real worry behind your words.

“You know very well there’s nothing said about it in the Creed.” He opened his eyes, offering you a small smile. “And I don’t remember our vows mentioning it, either.”

You clicked your tongue with exasperation, but Din also saw your shoulders relaxing, a sign that some of your nerves ebbed away.

“Gev bic (stop it),” you laughed, letting your hand fall down – but before it could happen, Din caught your wrist and lifted it back to his face. He slowly kissed the inside of your palm, down to the veins disappearing under your sleeve, his eyes fixated on your visor the entire time. His smile grew slightly when he felt a shiver run through you.

“I love you, ner kar’ta,” he whispered. “Even if you’re a half-Hutt under your armor.”

“Don’t push it.”

You let go of his hand and Din’s face fell, fearing that he really went too far. He reached for you but stopped when you straightened up and took a deep breath, your hands going to the last thing that separated you from him – your helmet.

He held his breath and his heart beat erratically as he watched you. He tried not to blink, not wanting to miss the moment when he finally got to see your face. Just the fact that you were willing to do this meant so much to him, but…

Slowly, you took your helmet off and placed it down on the mattress right next to his. Then, a pair of irises gazed into the depths of Din Djarin’s heart.

…you were wrong.

Oh, how wrong you were.

There was no mistaking it that you were by far the most breathtaking sight the Mandalorian had ever laid his eyes on.

The Maker must’ve been overly generous, or maybe favored you, for looking at you… it felt like coming home.

You stared at him with gentle, tentative eyes of the most beautiful color in the world, and Din would’ve gladly lost himself in them. Your lips, so tempting and soft-looking, were parted slightly as you awaited his reaction, but he couldn’t move. He just watched, spellbound, and wondered if this truly is reality and not some cruel, elusive dream.

He hadn’t felt such awe even when he saw Grogu doing his magic for the first time. Hadn’t felt such elation even when a new skin made of beskar was forged just for him. Had never before felt such love in his life.

You were a wonder. A miracle.

“Cyare?”

Your voice sounded almost fearful to your ears, but you couldn’t help it – Din seemed unable to utter even a word, and panic started to flood your veins when you noticed tears gathering in his dark, beautiful eyes. “Din–”

But before you could move away, he slipped off the bed and knelt by your feet. You were so taken aback by this action that you didn’t even react when he cradled both of your hands in his and pressed lingering kisses to your fingers, one after another.

“If I could, I’d marry you all over again,” he rasped, meeting your gaze with so much love and adoration in his brown eyes that it took your breath away. “How did I get so lucky…?”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you let out a breathless laugh of relief, your pupils darting across the lines and grooves of his face. “You… you’re not just saying that, right?”

“Cyar’ika, look at me.” He gently tilted your chin up, making your eyes meet his. For a second he faltered, parting his lips in wonder at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, before he swallowed and gazed at you again. “Do you doubt my words?��

No. There was really no questioning his motives. You knew Din was as honest as one could be and there were only your own insecurities at play here. But the longer you looked at him, his expression so full of love and devotion, the less relevant your own doubts were becoming.

You couldn’t think of anything else but him.

“I really want to kiss you,” you whispered instead of answering, and his face broke into a wide, joyous grin. “Can I–?”

The Mandalorian didn’t even wait for you to finish – the second those words left your mouth, he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours forcefully, eliciting a surprised sound out of you, which soon turned into a needy whimper. You didn’t give him a chance to back away and instantly tangled your fingers into his hair, moving clumsily to be closer to him.

But when you attempted to climb onto his lap, your breast plates collided with a metallic clank, forcing the pair of you to put some space between you. Din huffed with frustration, while you laughed and cupped his face in your hands.

“You’re quite impatient for a bounty hunter,” you accused him playfully, nudging your nose with his. You took a deep, calming breath, wanting to surround yourself with the smell of him completely, but your riduur didn’t let you indulge for long.

He moved quickly and, without a warning, kissed you briefly again – and then one more time. It was more like a light peck, and you longed to feel his tongue inside your mouth once more, but at the same time relished in every sensation that his lips brought. Every touch he gave you was something infinitely precious.

“I’ve waited longer than you,” he murmured. His hands were already moving, taking off the beskar on his forearms and shoulders, reaching where he could without removing you from his lap just yet. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, cyar’ika.”

You smiled widely and looked up from his deft fingers to throw another teasing comment, but in one second you lost your train of thoughts.

Because Din was blushing.

The feared Mandalorian’s face – a face you were finally allowed to see whenever you desired – was sprinkled with redness across his cheeks and ears. And you were the cause of that.

The thought of it almost caused your eyes to water.

“What are you looking at, mesh’la?”

Your eyes found him again and you smiled brightly, causing Din’s heart to skip a couple of beats.

You took his stubbly chin in-between your fingers and brought his lips closer, planting a soft kiss there that had the Mandalorian melting. He covered your hand with his, feeling the band on your finger under his own.

A miracle.

“I’m looking at you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fic #this man needs to be PRAISED he needs to be LOVED and CHERISHED !!!!!#imagine having pedro pascal's face and still being insecure 😔 /j

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loveinhawkins · 1 month

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Hi! hope you feel better soon! And hope you get some much needed rest in the meantime! For the one word prompt: post S4 Steddie, “hazy”.

thank you so much & thank you for inspiring a little moment about rest & healing 💕 •one word ficlet prompts

Steve finds that the couch next to Eddie’s hospital bed is ridiculously comfortable.

Eddie’s talking to the nurse—he can’t really catch what’s being said, the world growing warm and hazy—but he can hear that Eddie’s making her laugh. Knows that’s important, something that would’ve been unthinkable not so long ago: that Eddie feels brave enough to let something of himself shine through. That he can still trust in the kindness of certain people, even strangers.

Steve vaguely hears the nurse leave, glances over to see Eddie within touching distance, perched on the side of his bed. He’s folding some T-shirts in preparation for getting discharged—he’d joked when Steve had first arrived that it’s the most organised he’s ever been.

He must’ve washed his hair this morning, left it to air dry: some of the ends are still damp, and it’s gone kinda wispy around his face. It’s a calming sight, leaves Steve grateful that he no longer associates it with the dive into Lover’s Lake; now it’s something softer.

Something safe.

Eddie looks up. Smiles.

“Uh, Steve, with all due respect,” he begins, which makes Steve snort; he’s come to know it as one of Eddie’s sayings, preceding all manner of teasing objections, “what the hell?”

Steve would usually ask, “What now?” in feigned exasperation, unable to hide his amusement—but his head feels suddenly heavy, and all he manages is, “Hmm?”

Eddie’s smile grows, showing his dimples. He reaches over, and he places a hand on Steve’s knee, presses down gently, “Are you, like, training to be a contortionist?”

Steve feels the warmth of the touch through his jeans; he realises then that he’s sitting awkwardly: one knee bent towards his chest; his neck crooked, arms folded; his whole body instinctively angled toward the edge of the couch.

It’s a position he’s perfected over the years, honed in all kinds of makeshift beds—most recently the chairs of hospital waiting rooms, leaving space for one of the kids to rest on his shoulder. Snatching rest wherever he could throughout the nightmare of that Spring Break, never quite relaxing fully: ready to move, to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

He remembers Robin tactfully making sure that the RV was empty while everyone else stayed outside; his side still aching, Steve stretched out on the seat in the back. Even while he was alone, he only managed a fitful doze—nearly fell off his seat as he wrenched himself awake at the slightest disturbance.

He can’t find that urgency now. Hasn’t needed to for…

He must have zoned out for a couple seconds, because Eddie’s standing now. Watching fondly.

“If you’re tired,” Eddie says quietly, “you should sleep.”

And Steve hears the shape of it, that deliberation in how Eddie says certain things, where he slows down just a little—and Steve knows it must be because it’s something Eddie’s once been told by his uncle.

There’s a blanket getting draped across him now. Eddie touches his knee again, and this time Steve relaxes fully, feels himself slowly tilt back. There’s a pillow beneath his head that wasn’t there before.

Eddie smoothes out the blanket with care. Steve’s view is getting dimmer, a drowsy blur of eyelashes.

But he can see that Eddie’s smiling again. Hears him make a soft, jokingly disapproving tsk.

“Close your eyes,” Eddie whispers, with such affection.

Oh, you love me, Steve thinks.

It’s a thought that drifts in, honeyed and slow, like it’s really been there all along—that perhaps before, in the white-knuckled days of survival, he was too afraid for it. Did not have room to feel it.

Steve’s eyes close.

He falls asleep so completely, knowing that Eddie will still be there, that time isn’t running out anymore; he can stay right where he is. He has room to breathe, to just be—room for the next thought, the next moment, for every moment to come.

#this was fuelled by ginger tea & sleepiness ❤️#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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slasherwife · 1 year

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Slashers reaction when their s/o catches them without mask for the first time? Pls and thank you!

s/o catches their slashers without a mask

awww yes!! i must give happy endings to all of these 😭🫶

warnings: extra short bc daddy bo doesn’t wear a mask 🥲💗

thomas hewitt:

He feels guilty

He wasn’t careful and now he’s scarred you from letting you see his scarred face. He’s ashamed he couldn’t keep you from himself 😭❤️‍🩹

And in a way it feels invasive. He feels like he’s been seen naked, and he quickly looks away with the feeling of embarrassment and shame fills him💔

He goes to leave, quickly entering the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

after about a minute of refusing to look at himself in the mirror, he hears gentle breath coming from the other side of the oak wood door.

his better half, asking if he’s okay. that it looked like he saw a ghost, and then laughing. then telling him that you miss him. and that, “by the way, you’re beautiful.”

he starts to cry, smiling, and looks into the mirror at the face that they said was beautiful. 💗💗

jason vorhees:

jason isn’t really self aware like thomas is. he isn’t one to worry about what he looks like anymore 🤗

i mean, he does worry that you won’t find him attractive, but it’s not to the point where he will refuse to ever let you see him with his mask off!

the first time was when he was down by the lake, sitting down washing a trap that had flesh still inside, minding his own💞 he had taken off his mask to breathe freely the lake air.

he had thought you’d been asleep for a long time, inside the cabin. and he had been so threaded in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the door open.

“hi jason” your voice rang out sweetly, slightly caught off guard because his mask was off but nontheless wanting to greet him🫶

he says nothing (obv), but instead of giving you his long soft glance like he usually does, he looks away, and down, almost trying to hide his face as he grows stiff

you grow slightly deflated, but your love for him seems to intensify, and you can’t stop the words before they come out, “you have beautiful eyes.”

jason’s eyes flicker to you, then back to the ground, then pats the ground beside him for you to keep him company 💕💕🥺

michael myers:

this guy is the literally opposite of thomas he does not care at all😭 he is literally so not self aware at all

he likes his mask but sometimes the thing gets real smelly so he has to throw it in dishsoap water yk 🥲

then you come around the corner he’s like “oh hey y/n” literally nothing off about what’s being seen atm 😃😂💞

you TRY to play it cool but at the same time you’re like fangirling over seeing your hot smexy murderer husband without a mask for the first time 💕😇

but at the same time like he probably sleeps without the mask on so i’m assuming y’all sleep separate until now 🥲

if not then you see it so early into the relationship like it’ll be no big deal 😇💕

bo sinclair:

boy doesn’t wear a mask, his face is too hot and sexy to be contained 😍

vincent sinclair:

absolutely horrified. he doesn’t even like being alone without his mask on that much.

has literally considered waxing the actual mask to his face permanently😕❤️‍🩹

he just was repairing it— he got too close to a radiator on accident and needed to repair it. then his baby walked in🥺

hears the door open and IMMEDIATELY flinches away. he knows you caught a glimpse, and he’s terrified, and mortified.

he’s breathing deeply, frozen, stiff, like one of his sculptures. you on the other hand are concerned. 🥹

“darl? is everything okay my love?” you call out softly, so not to startle him💞 he doesn’t answer, and doesn’t move.

“i went looking for some petrol, i knew you wanted some for your art. it’s in the shed.” he noticed that you never called his statues “sculptures” or “wax dolls” like bo always did. you called them “art” 💝💞

“honey you don’t have to hide from me. i will always respect your privacy, i will never ask you to show me your face. but you will never have to hide from me because i love all of you.” 🥹💗

you say this to him and he softens like the wax on his mask. it was within the next few days that he’d rather throw it into the fire than melt it into his skin forever 💞💞

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the-grimm-writer · 7 months

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Hii i love your page and i was wondering... imagine billy loomis stalking you and you find yourself in a haunting adeline situation. Being chased around by him in a house of mirrors. If you don't know what i am talking about, please search "haunting adeline house of mirror". i promis you, you won't be disappointed. ANYWAYS LOVE YOU❤

I love that book so much 😭 now I wanna reread it ughh. It's one of my favorites!! And the sequel Hunting Adeline killed me, i still haven't recovered from the first half of that book :( I love you too!! 💕

Sorry this took so long! But this is perfect for Halloween <3

Warnings: Dub-con, fear play, forced orgasm, lots of reflections, some praising, fem reader

It was dead silent in the house of mirrors. Outside, you could hear the high-pitched screeches of fear followed by cheerful laughter as people ran in and out of the haunted house. It was a busy night at your local haunted carnival. Even pushing midnight, when they were supposed to be closing.

“Hello?” Your stomach dropped when you were greeted with silence. Was this part of the experience, or was someone playing some prank on you?

The deeper you walked, the more eerie everything felt. It was getting quiet and dark, seeing your warped reflections made you pause, carefully looking past yourself and trying to get any details of your surroundings.

Your breath caught in your throat when you saw something behind you. A flash passed in the corner of your eye, and you jumped, immediately turning, trying to find what it was.

Something was off. You felt it the moment you walked in and the actor at the front shut the door. It was never so dark before, and you weren't used to being alone, feeling like your reflection was taunting you, trying to trick you into believing something was there that wasn't.

The more you walked around, the more it felt like your reflection was beginning to warp. Different shapes and sizes making your head spin. You stopped walking for a moment, taking a deep breath. Your heart sped up when you saw the flash of black again, making you yelp and jump back.

It was just part of the experience you signed up for, right? What's the point of a haunt if it didn't scare you? You were scared and excited.

Looking at one of your reflections, you tried reassuring yourself. This was always your favorite thing, so why were you suddenly feeling so paranoid? Like someone was chasing after you, toying with you.

A scream left your lips as you saw someone standing behind you. A man with tan skin, brown hair, and a white shirt most people would think was covered in fake blood, but you knew too well it was real.

A rough hand slammed against your mouth. His arm slid around you and locked you in place, hot breath hitting the shell of your ear as he leaned in close to you.

"Did you miss me, (Y/n)?"

Your blood ran cold, heart pounding in your chest as you looked in the mirror that disfigured your reflections, looking right at him.

He was the last person you expected to see - the last person that you wanted to see.

You shook your head, struggling against him, which just made him smirk, his dark brown eyes cold and taunting as he looked down at him.

"I don't like it when you lie to me, you know." His hand that wasn't keeping you pinned against him slowly trailed down your body. "Why else would you be at a silly little haunted house? I'm trying to get scared by fake killers when you have a real one right here."

"It's a tradition." You said back once he uncovered his mouth, voice trembling as his hand slowly moved down and wrapped around your throat. "I go every year."

Halloween was once your favorite time of year. Thrilled to go to haunted houses in your area that provided that rush of fear and excitement in a safe environment.

But then one the Ghostface killers barged into your life, changing you for the worst. And even when you denied it, both of you knew a weak jumpscare wasn't enough to keep you satisfied anymore.

“You know, you told me once you wanted to experience what it’s like be in a horror movie, didn't you?" He chuckled, keeping you pressed against his chest. "I know you, (Y/n), better than you know yourself."

No, you never wanted your darkest fantasies to come to light. You never imagined that someone would find out about them. Much less a psychopathic killer like him.

You should hate him, fight against him, scream for help like any sane woman would. Yet you found yourself rubbing your thighs together as his stalker kept you close to him. Even if you do hate him, he always found a way to make your body respond to him.

Chills ran down your spine, your body shaking with fear but you couldn't deny the wave of desire that shook through your core as you watched in the mirrors him lean in to you so he could press his lips against your ear. "I'm here to fill those fantasies for you. I always have been." He pulled his hand away from your mouth so you could speak.

"Billy." You shakily said his name, finally speaking up. "I thought you were dead, or you were hiding somewhere." You felt so foolish now, thinking that would stop him from getting to you. You tried to force yourself to go back to normal by being here. One of your biggest mistakes.

"You know nothing could keep me away from you, sweetheart." He said, teasing you as he pulled the hem of your shirt up before he unclipped your bra.

You stayed stiff as he pulled off your shirt. Even when you turned and tried to move away, your reflections taunted you, forced to watch as he stripped you of more than just your clothes.

"Did you miss me that much, (Y/n)?" He chuckled. "Try to replace all those feelings I gave ya? I was only gone for a few weeks, I told you I was just tying up some loose ends then I'd be back for you."

How could you forget your personal stalker? The infamous masked killer that took extra pleasure in torturing and terrorizing you in multiple different ways.

"No!" You bit out, trying to maintain your tough act for as long as you could.

A whimper left your throat, refusing to admit or deny it. Of course you had those fantasies. Wasn't it normal? It wasn't bad if it just remained a fantasy.

“Look at yourself, (Y/n). Look at us. This is who we are." You shivered as his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. "Those weak little haunted houses weren't made for us. You need the real deal."

You almost screamed as he yanked your hair back hard, forcing you to stare at your reflections. "Admit it." He demanded, his eyes connecting with yours through the wavy mirror.

"I..." You took a deep, shaky breath. "I need you, Billy."

He smirked at this. "Are you scared (Y/n)?" You whined, nodding your head as his other hand slipped into your pants, rubbing your pussy against your underwear, making him chuckle as he felt the wetspot that was already there. "Yeah, I can tell. You're fuckin terrified."

Roughly, he yanked your pants and underwear down, never once breaking his intense gaze on you as he did the same for himself. The sound of his pants unzipping ringing in your ears.

"Mine." He hissed as he lined himself up with you, making you scream as he started roughly thrusting into your tight hole without a moments hesitation. "All fucking mine."

You cried out as his cock slammed into you, his hand gripping your hair tight, forcing your back to arch back, never breaking eye contact through the mirrors until you looked back down.

After a minute you slowly started adjusting to his roughness, a broken moan leaving your lips as he hit the spot you knew you were most sensitive at. Pain and pleasure twisting together, how it always felt being with Billy.

Billy's grunts filled your ears, making you look at him in the mirrors as he held onto you like you were about to disappear from his sight. Your breasts bouncing as he continued to fuck you, the sound of skin slapping against naked skin continued to fill your ears.

"Still so tight for me." He chuckled against you, pushing into your cunt deep. "My pretty little slut."

Shame went through you, unable to stop the small moans that left your lips while he pounded into you. "Billy!" You yelped as he turned your head to the side and slammed his lips against yours.

He kissed you with an overwhelming passion, his tongue slipping into your mouth to take complete control. You weakly kissed him back, unable to keep up with him until he pulled away, letting you take deep shaky breaths as his cock stayed buried inside you.

Your small gasps against his lips caused him to growl softly, his speed increasing as he pounded into you almost with a primal, animalistic desire.

"I'm never letting you go again." He said softly as his hips jerked against yours, keeping your body pressed against his, his breath hitting your cheek. "Now cum." He growled as your pussy throbbed around him, his free hand slapping your ass hard before roughly rubbing your clit.

You whined a bit, clenching your fists together since you had nothing to hold onto as he pounded into you until your eyes started crossing.

"Too - too fast!" You whined out, biting your bottom lip hard as you felt the familiar pressure building up.

His grip on your hair tightened, his pace increasing in response as he grunted. "That's not what I said. Now be a good girl and do as I say."

"I'll see you when you get home, (Y/n)." He chuckled, kissing the top of your head before you collapsed, slowly walking out of the house of mirrors. Finally leaving you alone. Just for a little bit more, at least.

You whimpered, nearly forgetting everything as you screamed out, tears burning in your eyes as you felt yourself cumming hard, flooding his cock with your juices.

Billy swore, but you didn't hear him as you shook against him, body filled with a pleasure only he was able to twist out of you. And you knew he was getting closer by the way he held onto you, throwing his head back.

He slammed into you one more time before he finally stopped, letting out a satisfied groan as thick, hot cum filled you up. Your legs were shaky from your own orgasm, unable to keep yourself up as he finally let go of your hair and pulled himself out of your leaky pussy.

You laid there panting, body sweaty as your twisted reflections surrounded you, replaying what had just happened like a rewinded tape.

Slowly, you forced yourself to stand up and pull your clothes back on, the twisted mirrors never failing to remind you. You were just as sick as him.

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written-in-flowers · 7 months

Text

Be the Light: Pt. 3 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 6k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearltinyy @raviollirin

Huge thanks to my lovely beta reader @daesukiii 💕💕

Part 2 < | > Part 4

***

The palace temple was built by the first King of Hanseong, one of Sookmyung’s ancestors, many years ago. Walking through the temple’s zen garden, a small pond area guarded by stone statues of gods, Hongjoong and Seonghwa did not meet anyone during their walk. Hardly anyone visited the palace temple anymore, and since Sookmyung did not care about it, the area became overgrown by wildlife and dense foliage. Both men struggled to find the path at times, and once or twice one of them ran into garden snakes. But, eventually they saw the stone and wood structure in the middle of a clearing. Hongjoong saw a stone buddha statue eroded by age and weather in front of several kneeling cushions on the ground. The place overall carried a tranquil silence that he worried might break at the slightest sound. He’d expected they’d be alone, but he’d been wrong.

Sitting in her usual wheelchair, Queen Mother Jisoo sat with her hands folded over her lap and head bowed in prayer. On a cushion beside her was Chaewon, her handmaiden. This sudden appearance of Sookmyung’s mother raised their suspicions. The small offerings placed in front of the statue implied she visited often, and she appeared entirely at peace. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa, and saw the caution in his eyes. They walked slowly and quietly behind the two women, taking their own cushions and sitting in silence. Hongjoong wondered how long the pair planned to be here. What if their contact backs away because he saw Jisoo and Chaewon? Then, he’d never learn of their plan. He’d considered leaving and waiting in the bushes before another figure joined them.

Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik. He came unaccompanied this time, in his usual official robes and gat. A quick glance to them with a bow was returned before he took a cushion beside Hongjoong. Another person to scare off his contact. Hongjoong had given Seonghwa a look before Jisoo spoke first.

“What do you pray for, Hongjoong?”

Jisoo’s voice broke the garden’s tranquil silence, as soothing as the water falling into the pond nearby. Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at one another, then at Wonshik, who smiled serenely with his head bowed. Chaewon showed a similar expression, not looking over at him or anyone else. He thought about what he could possibly say to Sookmyung’s mother. It’d be wrong to tell her ‘your daughter’s downfall’ out loud and to her face.

“For home,” Seonghwa said from beside him.

Hongjoong whipped his head over to him, but Jisoo spoke first. “As do all of us,” she beckoned Chaewon to stand, and the woman moved to turn her chair around and face them. The lines around her mouth and her eyes showed signs of a woman who’d laughed and lived well. Her eyes, while similar to Sookmyung, did not hold viciousness but rather warmth.

She smiled at them both, “This country is my home. I spent many years of my life dedicated to leaving it better than when I first came into power. I pray for its safety and wellbeing every morning, afternoon, and night. I pray that the crops will be fruitful this harvest, and that we will never see another war or famine again. My prayers are the only thing left to me since my daughter was crowned queen.”

“It is the only thing many of us have left,” added Wonshik. “I pray for strength,” he told them, “And for patience. I pray that one day the dignity of The Crown is restored, and that when people see our banners, they do not cower in fear but instead feel comforted.”

“I pray for the good health of the people,” said Chaewon, “And for the protection of my daughter, YN.”

“As we should,” said Wonshik.

Suddenly everything made sense. He looked over at Chaewon, then Wonshik, then at Jisoo.

“We may speak plainly,” Jisoo declared. “I told the guards to leave this place, and this temple has been banned since Sookmyung became queen. This means you can remove those ridiculous veils and let me see your handsome faces."

Tentatively, Hongjoong and Seonghwa removed their veils and Jisoo beamed brightly at them. She examined Seonghwa first, clearly admiring his jawline and wide eyes. Hongjoong saw her nod her head in approval.

"Just as handsome as you are intelligent," she concluded. "One might have thought you'd been sculpted by gods if they saw you."

Seonghwa bowed his head appreciatively. She did the same with Hongjoong, studying his features closely. His cheeks blushed being observed like a painting or statue sold at auction. He looked over to Wonshik, who appeared to be doing the same from where he sat. But, it was Chaewon who spoke.

"He looks like a true prince, doesn't he, Your Majesty?" She grinned fondly.

"No, not a prince," Jisoo said. She met his eyes when she said, "A king."

Her words left him speechless. He eyed her closely, searching for a lie in her face. This woman is Sookmyung’s mother; her being part of a resistance against her sounded too good to be true. Hongjoong never knew Jisoo to scold or criticize her daughter. More often than not, she remained neutral and kept to herself in the palace. Seeing The Queen Mother was rarer than seeing a concubine. He couldn’t imagine her wanting to depose her own child. When she moved away, he spoke.

“What did we meet here for?” he asked her, “To talk of prayers? Changbin’s message mentioned another heir.”

“How can that be?” Seonghwa asked after him.

“Sookmyung has a twin sister.”

The news shocked the two men. “A twin?” Hongjoong furrowed his brow, “Where? How? If there is someone walking around with Sookmyung’s face, then they would’ve been found before now.”

“I married King Siwon when I was nineteen-years-old,” she started. “Being the King, Siwon had a multitude of responsibilities. I only had one: to produce heirs for the throne. I’m sad to say it was the only thing I could not do. Siwon and I spent five years of our marriage trying for a child, and failing. Every pregnancy I did have never carried to term or came out ill and died or was a stillborn,” Hongjoong saw the discomfort in her face speaking about it. “I felt like a failure. I loved Siwon, and I knew how much he wanted a child, and I’d disappointed him. Those snakes at court began whispering that perhaps I was barren or I had a disease preventing me from having a healthy child. I had to do something. I knew if I failed to produce an heir, they might demand an annulment and Siwon and I would be separated forever.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I prayed,” she answered. “I prayed right here in this temple. Chaewon was there,” she lifted a hand which Chaewon took in her own, “And she prayed with me. I prayed for fertility, for a healthy child, and to bring honor to my family. The next time Siwon and I made love, a month later I was declared pregnant. I spent most of my pregnancy bed ridden, since I feared the slightest movement might make me lose the child inside me. The physicians checked on me night and day, giving me herbal teas and acupuncture treatments for the baby. It was a painful experience, but Siwon said the result would be worth the struggle.” She then said, “Then, on the fourteenth night on the eighth moon twenty-four years ago, I finally gave birth to my child. She came into the world crying and screaming, and by all accounts was perfectly healthy. I’d done my duty to my family, and I’d finally gotten the one thing I’d always wanted: a child.

“But then, I felt another pain and the physician said I was going into labor again. Out came a second girl, quieter than the first and whimpering softly, but also completely healthy. Siwon saw the crisis before anyone else did. He said he’d seen dynasties be torn apart by a succession dispute…” she paused, gulping thickly as she said, “And said one of the girls would have to go.”

“What? That’s awful,” said Seonghwa softly. “He forced you to part from your own child to avoid a war over the throne?”

“That’s what he believed he was doing,” she replied. Chaewon put both her hands on Jisoo’s shoulders, and the queen touched one of them still. “I knew he was right. My own family went through a similar struggle when my father died, and I did not wish to see my children be torn apart because of a silly chair. I told my husband I understood his reasoning, but I did not wish to be fully separated from my child. I begged him to let the girl remain in the palace; I told him we can pass her off as somebody’s else’s child, and nobody would have to know outside of a select few. The girls looked nothing alike, so it wasn’t as if anyone would suspect.”

Hongjoong sensed the end of this story, and he couldn’t believe it at all.

“Then, I turned to my closest friend,” she smiled up at Chaewon, “Who’d held my hand throughout my labors and been there every step of the way. She’d suffered similar fertility issues with her husband, who couldn’t produce enough sperm to give her a child. I offered the younger of the two to her,” she looked back at them, “And she’d live as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s daughter instead.”

“YN…” your name escaped his lips softly. “No, that’s…YN and Sookmyung could not be any different from one another. Firstly, their appearances alone are vastly different, and their demeanors…YN, she’s…She’s too sweet to have shared a womb with a monster like Sookmyung. How would you have kept this from other servants? Gossip spreads in this place like wildfire. If Queen Jisoo had two twins, people would have known in seconds.”

“And if Chaewon didn’t have a child one day, was never pregnant, and suddenly produced one,” added Seonghwa, “Might raise suspicions.”

“I told people my husband and I adopted a baby from the city orphanage,” Chaewon said.

“And the only people in the birthing room that night were myself, the king, the physician, Chaewon and Wonshik,” Jisoo replied. “Everyone involved was sworn to secrecy. Physician Yoon passed away some years after the twins’ birth, so it was one less person. Han YN became Park YN, and she has lived as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s adopted daughter ever since. I demanded that YN and Sookmyung live side-by-side like sisters, being companions as children before YN became her handmaiden.”

“It was His Majesty’s wish that YN be educated alongside Sookmyung,” said Wonshik. “I think when Sookmyung’s nature began to show, he started regretting his decision to separate the twins. I suggested he reveal his deception to the people, and claim YN as his daughter, but he refused. He was too proud to admit he’d made a mistake, and too optimistic that Sookmyung’s wild behavior was a phase she’d grown out of in adulthood.”

“He also feared what Sookmyung might do if she found out she had a sister,” Jisoo admitted to them. “You two saw what she’d done to those who had claims to the throne, no matter how distant. I knew telling her would put YN’s life in danger.”

“Then why are you bringing this to light now?” asked Hongjoong, appalled by their confessions. “Sookmyung is the queen. She is the most powerful person in the country. She has men who will torture and kill people at the first word, and will not hesitate to do it herself. She’ll kill YN and get away with it,” he couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “We can’t let anyone else know. If Sookmyung should ever think YN is-”

“-Sookmyung needs to be stopped,” Jisoo cut him off firmly. “I love my daughter. I have loved her despite her faults and wrongdoings. I did my best to raise her to be a proper lady of the realm, and prepare her for her ascension. But, I must accept the truth: my daughter is not the person I’d hoped she’d become.”

“She never was,” said Wonshik. “Ever since her girlhood, Queen Sookmyung has been vicious, manipulative, aggressive and cruel. You cannot deny this, Your Majesty,” he told her, “I told your husband that naming Sookmyung his heir would be a mistake.”

“Then who would he have named? His incompetent brother? His people-pleasing sister?” she snapped at him. “I don’t know if you remember, Senior Advisor, but my daughter had most of my husband’s family killed during the war. There are so few claimants left, and they’d be too frightened to challenge Sookmyung.” She turned back to Hongjoong, “YN is our only hope at saving this kingdom from open warfare.”

“Warfare? Do you believe the rebels are strong enough to engage?” asked Seonghwa, sitting back on his haunches and putting a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “From what I’ve always understood the rebel forces to be ill equipped and nothing more than commoners with pitchforks?”

“And that is the exact image we want Sookmyung to have,” Wonshik told him. “I can assure you that the rebels are more than farmers and fishermen. Her Majesty and I have managed to rally some supporters from the other cities. Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang have all given their support to our cause, and minor lords in Gangwon-do and Jeju-do gave theirs as well. I have close friends here at court who will be on YN's side when we finally usurp Sookmyung.”

“It will not be an easy transition, Senior Advisor,” said Seonghwa. “The people only know Sookmyung; they do not know YN. If they hear she is a twin, they may assume she shares Sookmyung’s behaviors. I don’t know if you’re aware, sir, but Sookmyung forces YN to participate in the torture and abuse a majority of the time. It’s a strange intimacy the both of them have. They might believe she’s the same or worse.”

“Which is why we must show them that YN is tender-hearted and gentle,” he replied. “Have her go into the city, meet her people and speak to them face-to-face. Reinstate the protection laws and charities Sookmyung banned or removed. She can repair damages done across the kingdom and lower taxation and those ridiculous tributes Sookmyung demands. The people will see that she is vastly different from their previous queen.”

“And she’ll have something Sookmyung has not had in the eight years of her reign,” said Jisoo. “The thing her advisors have hounded her about for years.”

“What?”

“A husband,” she eyed Hongjoong when she said this. “Not only a husband, but a husband who’d been a prince of Wonju, the rebel base and rallying point of the rebellion.”

“Should peace be restored, I’d return to Wonju to rule,” said Hongjoong. “My whole family is dead. There’d be nobody to take my place.”

“That is not entirely true, young prince,” Wonshik said. “There is your cousin, Jeongin.”

“Jeongin?” He lifted an eyebrow. Hongjoong remember his youngest cousin, and said, “He was killed by Sookmyung’s guards the day they sacked the city.”

“No, he wasn’t,” he said. “Wonju loyalists managed to smuggle him out right as the fighting began. He has been living in the countryside ever since. The people in charge of him have been preparing him to be your steward in Wonju. You would be here with YN, ruling at her side, while giving him control of Wonju in your place.” When he saw Hongjoong’s hesitation, he added, “Jeongin is the same kind, caring boy you remember. He would make a great steward.”

“And it’d rebuild the alliance Wonju and Hanseong once had,” said Jisoo. “I don’t believe Wonju’s bannermen would agree to any ties with Hanseong without a marriage pact. Even if you have not been in Wonju, the people there still stand with you, Hongjoong. You are their king. You can be my daughter’s king consort, be at her side and guide her.” She then grinned slyly, "Unless you do not want her?”

"Of course I do," he blurted out without thinking. "I mean, I do like her. I think YN could be a good queen with the right counsel, but Sookmyung…"

Hongjoong did not want to imagine what horrors she'd have in store for you. Sookmyung held you very close to her heart. Should she believe you're conspiring against her, she'll see it as the deepest of betrayals. Hongjoong refused to let her dangle you from a ceiling or shove you in a horrific box. He'd kill her before he let that happen.

"What are your plans for Sookmyung?" Seonghwa asked when Hongjoong failed to respond.

"She will be arrested and put on trial," said Wonshik

"On what charges?"

"Crimes she committed during the war," he explained. "The murder and torture of prisoners of war, purposefully attacking civilian towns and taking hostages are only a few named."

"You cannot arrest a queen."

"You can if she has been deposed," he corrected him. "If the council decides Sookmyung is unfit as queen, she will be replaced by YN, therefore removing her titles. Up until now, most of the officials feared retaliation from her for speaking out, but I have convinced the Head Advisors to join me."

"Is she not supposed to be there when the ruling is made? That is part of the law."

"Smart boy," Wonshik smiled at him, "But there is a loophole in this law."

"Is there?"

"The ruling monarch does not have to be present for every council meeting," he said, "And Sookmyung never comes to any of them. We always come to decisions on our own, and present them to her for approval."

"And this ruling can be made during one of these meetings," concluded Seonghwa. "She will not go quietly, you know. She will try to flee."

"We have no doubt about that," he replied. "Do not worry. I have many things in place to make sure she is detained."

"And when is this supposed to happen?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight? So soon? Why?"

"Because it is crucial we do it as soon as possible," he said. “Her Majesty will set up a place for Sookmyung to be, we will wait until she is unsuspecting, and then confront her. We will have supporters around us to step in if need be.”

"The only person we are waiting on is you, Your Grace," Jisoo said to him gently. "Will you accept my daughter’s hand in marriage and be her king consort? Help us reunite the kingdoms and restore peace?"

His eyes began to sting. Nobody had called him 'Your Grace' in a very long time. He didn't think he'd ever be called that again. Thinking deeply, Naeun came to mind. If he refused, everything she suffered would be for nothing. He remembered her lifeless body laying on the hard straw, broken bones protruding from her skin and her eye swollen shut. She died with the hope that one day her home will be as she remembered. Hongjoong then thought of you. As your king consort, he could be around you whenever he liked. He could speak to you, laugh with you, kiss and hold you the way he dreamed. You would be his, and you could restore the kingdom together.

"Yes," he nodded. "Yes, I will."

For home.

****

"-He kept crying all the way back," she huffed. "I thought, being a man, that he'd have a higher tolerance for it."

You knelt at Sookmyung’s side by the low dining table. The afternoon light shone in through the open windows, their borders creating shapes on the floors. Along with it came a cool spring breeze that kissed your warm cheeks. You hated it when Sookmyung recounted her nights in the dungeon. It sickened your stomach, and only brought on more haunting visions. You laddled egg soup into a bowl for her, stirred it around a few times, then placed it in front of her.

“You’re a woman and you have a stronger stomach than him,” she said, spooning soup into her mouth.

“I am sure Hongjoong was only overwhelmed by experiencing so much so quickly,” you told her. You sliced toasted bread, putting a small pot of honey and jaw in front of her. “You should have started small, perhaps The Box or The Bull. You know, an act he doesn’t see but hears instead. It lets his mind fill in the blank spaces.”

“Hm,” she mused, sipping more soup from her bowl, “I suppose you’re right. I may have been a bit hasty in my excitement to show him the chamber. I thought…” she hesitated, “I thought he might understand. I thought he’d enjoy it the way we do.” She pondered over her soup, pushing the strings of egg with her spoon. “I was wrong.” You saw her fingers grip the spoon tightly, her eyes narrowed at the bowl as it’d wronged her.

“Things like the dungeon take a bit of getting used to,” you told her. “I am sure with time, he will come to enjoy it with you.”

You sat back on your legs and watched her eat. Your own stomach growled quietly, and rumbled in your gut the longer you lingered on the food. The porridge you’d eaten this morning had since been digested, and left you hungry again. You did not know what plans Sookmyung had for the day, since she never concerned herself with the day-to-day work of a queen. The advisors usually held meetings in the morning, then approached her with their decisions some time in the day. Having started her day late, you’re sure they’ll wait until much later to discuss any rulings they’ve made. A part of you believed the council made decisions and put them into action without Sookmyungs’s knowledge sometimes. It is not as if she cared anyway.

“You’re the only person I can share my chambers with,” she said. “You’re the only one who understands.”

Unfortunately, she was right. While Sookmyung’s ‘experiments’ and ‘delights’ haunted your dreams and churned your stomach, you’d begun to understand why she must hurt others. It made sense when you thought about it. Relishing in the pain of others gave her a gratification she couldn’t find anywhere else. Hurting them, controlling when the pain began and ended simulated a power reserved for gods, and not men. You often stood by as she forcibly shoved a man into a box full of venomous scorpions and spiders, and saw the glee in her face. You’d see her carve a man’s face off to place maggots on the red flesh, then stand to watch him writhe in agony. It was abhorrent to anyone else. It was fun for Sookmyung. The fact that her treasured flower did not revel in the torture with her must’ve upset her deeply. Hongjoong having cried at whatever befell the assassin angered Sookmyung. Watching her stir her soup around before eating it, you worried she might decide she no longer wants Hongjoong.

He may end up in The Box next.

“Will you take him back there?” you asked her, pouring milk into a cup for her to drink.

“I wanted to, but the assassin died in the night,” she scoffed. She ate another piece of kimchi, chewing on the fermented vegetable before saying, “You should have seen her, YN. I think you would have admired her resistance.”

“Did she reveal any information to you?”

“No,” she shook her head, “Those rebel bastards should start finding smarter people. The guards say they found her climbing over the garden wall, waiting in the trees by the corner. You’d think an assassin might be smarter than that.”

“Hubris,” you said, “That was her mistake.”

She grinned, “And stupidity. What made her think she could ever possibly put her knife to my throat?”

“Pride or desperation. One of the two, I suspect.”

Sookmyung then changed to another topic, a smirk lifting a corner of her mouth, “You never answered me last night.”

“Your Majesty?” you dug your nails into your skirt. Another test was coming, you knew it.

“I asked if San was your type.”

“I told you he was not, Your Majesty.”

Your cheeks burned recalling the previous night. You are certain Sookmyung had no intention of letting you lay with one of her flowers. She only wanted to embarrass you further in front of people. Like with her victims, she controlled your life. She’d also control any lover you took up. She’d kill them if she didn’t approve.

“YN, I cannot find you a proper husband unless you tell me,” she said irritably. She then sneered, “Or, maybe, you don’t like men at all.”

“Wha-what?” your eyes widened at the implication, and you shook your head. “Your Majesty, I assure you I do prefer me-”

“-There is nothing wrong with liking the same sex, YN. There are places all over the world where women couple with women,” she cupped your chin so you looked at her. Her thumb traced your bottom lip line as she said, “I sometimes wish I’d been the boy my father had wanted. Then, this marriage situation could be easily solved.” She moved away from her bowl to sit closer to you. You shivered as her fingers pushed stray strands of hair away, “I could marry the prettiest, loveliest woman I know, and make her mine.” When you looked away in embarrassment, she cackled, “Such a flustered little virgin. There is so much you do not know.”

“Your Majesty…”

“It’s sweet.”

The sound of footsteps made you jump away from her, but she stayed in place. A knock on the door made her grunt frustratedly.

“Go see who it is, YN,” she said, “Then tell them to leave. We have places to be later, and I need to get dressed.”

You were all too eager to go. You are not a naive child. You know women can be romantic with other women; there is nothing wrong with that. You’d seen Sookmyung nude many times over the course of your servitude, and you wouldn’t say she was ugly by any means. Any true naive person would think she is a goddess with her slender curves and hips. The only problem for you was that said woman is sadistically evil. You reached the door, and slid it open to reveal your mother and Queen Jisoo.

“Your Majesty,” you said, heat rising in your cheeks again as you bowed, “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

“My daughter,” she replied stiffly. “Is she finally awake?”

“She is,” you nodded, “But she has a busy schedule ahead of her, so she must be getting dressed now.”

“Psh, as if that will stop me,” she replied. “Chaewon, wheel me in.”

With a beckoning gesture over her shoulder, your mother wheeled Jisoo into the room where Sookmyung sat on cushions by the low breakfast table. You trailed behind, not meeting her eyes, and remaining silent.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Sookmyung said with a false grin, “I hope you’re feeling better. YN was just telling me you hadn’t eaten much yesterday.” A lie that Queen Jisoo did not believe for a second.

“I am, darling daughter,” she said, “But my health is not why I’ve come here. I am here to tell you that you are to clear your afternoon schedule today.”

“Why is that?”

“I have invited lords from Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang as well as sons of your bannermen to our banquet pavilion today. It is about time you stopped fiddling with those poor concubines of yours and settled down with a husband.”

Sookmyung glared at her, “I do not want a husband.”

“I’m afraid that your wishes are no longer a concern to anyone. You are a queen, and a queen must have a king.”

“I do not want a king.”

“Why? Because then you’d have to actually share your power with someone? Because there will finally be someone restraining these ghastly, deviant urges of yours?” her mother accused. “I have made excuses for your behavior for years and years, Sookmyung. When people at court called you improper and promiscuous, I told them you shared your father’s fiery passion. When they said your conquest brought nothing but poverty to your people, I said that you united the kingdoms under one rule and brought forth strength to our armies. Even when you rebuilt the dungeons, to toy and defile people you deemed criminals, I told them that you were passionate about justice.” You heard the frustration rising in her voice, and flaring in her dark eyes. “People have begun to talk, Sookmyung. They say that one day soon, you’ll become pregnant with an illegitimate child and bring shame to our throne.”

“Who cares?” Sookmyung groaned, “Any child I bare would have my blood. Why would that make them unworthy?”

“Because a bastard has never sat on our throne-”

“-I don’t want them, so why does this matter?”

Jisoo sighed, “Sookmyung, I understand your hesitancy to marry. I had my reservations when my mother approached me, but I made it work. I did my duty to my country and my family.” Her eyes shifted over to you, sad and full of regret. It struck you as strange. “But, in order for our family to continue, you must produce a legitimate child. A child of royal, noble blood.”

“I hate children,” she spat, glaring back at her mother, “They’re whiny, snotty, and annoying.”

“You’ll feel differently when you have a child of your own.”

Sookmyung then gave her mother a grin that unsettled you. It was the same mischievous smile she’d given when she misbehaved. She stood up from her seat, and said, “But, what if I have found true love at last, Mother? What if I have found someone I wish to spend my life with?”

“You-You have? Who?” the queen asked, shocked.

Sookmyung moved over to you, standing behind you with arms around your waist. She placed her head on your shoulder as she said, “YN.”

Jisoo scoffed, “Oh please, Sookmyung. You cannot marry YN; she is a woman.”

“Women marry women all the time, Mother, when they marry the same husband,” she said. “YN and I can marry the same man and he can give her children instead.”

“As true as that may be, our clan has never indulged in such practices,” she said. “Besides, any child YN has will be considered…” she searched for the words, “Hers. Not yours. You are the queen, so it is your children who should-”

“-I am aware of how succession works, Mother!” Sookmyung snapped, her voice pinching your eardrum. “I have told you explicitly time and time again that I do not wish to have children or to marry. YN is perfect for it. If I marry her, her children will also be considered my children.”

“Should you marry a woman, it cannot be YN,” her mother said.

“Why not?”

“She is your handmaiden, love. She is not…” she paused again, “She is not suitable for you. She is not of noble blood.”

“Psh, wow,” Sookmyung snorted, “I thought I could be cruel. Did you hear that, Chaewon? My mother thinks your daughter is unworthy of me.”

“My daughter is a servant, Your Majesty,” your mother told her. “She’ll be marrying someone of her station like a stableboy or a blacksmith. A woman of your rank, Your Majesty, should be marrying a fine lord or a prince.”

“There are no princes left, you fool,” Sookmyung sniped at her.

“There would be if you hadn’t slain them all,” interjected Jisoo. “Enough of this foolishness. You will come to the pavilion today and greet your suitors. I give you until the end of the day to make a decision. If you do not choose one, I will choose one for you,” she said sternly.

“You wouldn’t-”

“-I would,” she cut her off. “This childish behavior of yours is coming to an end. You have been a queen for eight years, and have not even considered any suitors for yourself, so I must do it for you. I am giving one chance. If not, consider yourself lucky that you have not been dethroned.”

“You bitch!”

Sookmyung grabbed a small ceramic vase and flung it in the queen’s direction. Jisoo shielded her face in time to avoid any serious damage, but you still saw the disbelief in her eyes.

“I hate you!” Sookmyung grabbed another object, this time a small dish, which was dodged when your mother pulled Jisoo away. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

“Your Majesty, please!”

You managed to grab her wrist in time to stop her from taking up a third object, which gave your mother time to wheel Jisoo away. “You can throw tantrums all you want,” Jisoo called from nearby, “You will get married or live to regret it.”

“What did you say, you-”

You kept Sookmyung from following her mother out by the waist. “Your Majesty,” you called over her grunting and growling, “Please enough. You will only make things worse for yourself.”

“For myself?” she twisted out of your grasp and turned on you, “I am the queen, you idiot! What sort of consequences could I face? What can that old, useless woman do to me?”

“I-I don’t know-”

“-You never know anything,” she hissed. “Just as stupid as you look. I am the queen. Nobody can touch me. Nobody can make me do anything I don’t want to do. I don’t have to marry anyone. I don’t have to have children. I don’t have to do anything that those stupid, old men in the council want me to do.”

“They only have the country’s best interest at heart,” you explained, keeping your hands together to stop them shaking. “They’re not doing it to hurt you or make you unhappy. Having a child would ensure your family name and legacy continues onward,” you took a moment to think, then said, “How can you make sure your dungeons and practices remain in place if somebody else takes up the throne? With a child of your own, you can make sure they share the same beliefs as you about crime and punishment.”

“I hate children,” she gruffed.

“You don’t have to like them. You don’t even have to take care of them; you can have a wet nurse look after them for you. You only have to have them.”

“I don’t want to marry any of those men.”

“I’m afraid it must be one of them.”

Sookmyung’s palm collided with your cheek sharply. The pain burned on your skin, but you did not dare flinch or wince in front of her. “You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do,” she snarled. “I do. I am the queen." She smacked you again, “Say it. Say I am the queen.”

“You are the queen,” you squeaked.

“And you are my slave.”

“And I am your slave.”

Sookmyung smacked your other cheek, then grabbed you by the collar of your jacket. “I should throw you in that chamber. I think you’d remember who you are after a few days in there.”

Your eyes stayed on hers, and you trembled in her grasp. She could do it. You knew she could. For the briefest moment, you saw yourself laying nude in The Box, screaming and clawing at the wooden door as insects and arachnids crawled all over you.

“But no,” she released you and stepped away, “You’re not hard-headed like the other idiots around here. Dress me, and then we can meet these stupid suitors.”

“You…You will meet them then?”

“Might as well,” she shrugged. “Maybe we can find a husband we both like.”

“Both of us? Your Majesty,” you followed her to the bedroom, “None of those men would want to marry me. I am a servant.”

“You’re my servant,” she noted. “If they marry me, they’re marrying you too.” She held her arms behind her back so you may untie and remove her robe for her.

You gingerly touched your left cheek, and felt a small welt where her ring struck you. It pinched when you touched it. “What about your flowers? If you marry, you may not be allowed to have them.”

“I’m never giving them up,” she said, “Not for anyone. I worked too hard to obtain them.”

“Your husband may not like that and dismiss them from the palace. As king consort, he’d be allowed that right.” You’ll admit, you liked the idea of her flowers being set free. They’d all be able to live the lives they’ve always wanted freely and happily.

“I’d kill my flowers before I let anyone else take them from me,” she said. “Grab the red and gold dress.”

“Shall I call in the others?”

“No. I can’t stand them.”

“As you wish.”

“Because I am the queen.”

“Because you are the queen,” you repeated, giving a nod of your head before disappearing into the nearby closet.

In the privacy of the walk-in closet, you pretended to search the shelves for the appropriate box. Sookmyung kept all her hanboks in boxes with their descriptions on the side. You already knew where her regal dress was, but did not reach for the box. Your back pressed into the opposite shelf and you took deep, silent breaths. Heart pounding in your chest, you tried your best to calm it before Sookmyung heard you. Like a feral animal, she grew tense the second she sensed fear. You hated this feeling, but it came regardless. You hated that your life was at her mercy.

One mistake, one false word, and she’d throw you into a torture cell.

***

A/N: The conspirators have finally met!! I am so happy you guys are enjoying this fic so far. I know it's complex and elaborate, but I really love historical dramas and period pieces, so I wanted to write one for ateez. Please, as always, feel free to like, reblog, and comment <3

Also, sorry if some tags aren't tagging. Idk why.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader #matz x reader #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #hongjoong ateez #seonghwa ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #pirateeznet

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violetsiren90 · 3 months

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Nothing But You | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x f!human!Reader

Genre: hybrid AU; non-idol AU, strangers to lovers; love in adversity; cozy one-shot; fluff and angst

Word Count: 1434

Summary: The world's not ready for your love, but that doesn't matter. None of it matters - nothing but him.

Part 2: Evergreen (though both can be read as stand-alone works)

Content Warnings: I'd give this a PG-13 for content, but ALL of my work is 18+ (minors, dni); cuddling; co-sleeping; bad weather (but safe indoors); shirtless Chris (Chan is called Christopher); descriptions of hybrid physical features (including some minimal body hair); depictions of prejudice towards, discrimination, and marginalization of hybrids; a character gets lost and is momentarily frightened; allusions to sexual intimacy; implied domestic violence (by an authority figure, not Chris); running away; mention of reproduction (pups); for some reason even though it is explicitly stated I feel the need to mention that Reader and Chris are both adults throughout

Author's Note: I'll tell you what I didn't have planned for this Sunday afternoon and that was a Bang Chan hybrid AU one-shot. But the image of cuddling up with Chan in the middle of a snowstorm took me hostage and now here we are. I've never written a hybrid AU before, so this was very fun! If you read this, I hope this Christopher brings you the comfort you deserve today. 💕

P.S In case no one has told you today, you're so loved and so, so worthy of love. 🧜💜

The icy wind howls, whipping swirling flurries of snow past the windows of the little cabin. You stir, not opening your eyes, heavy with slumber as your other senses remind you of the homey trappings of your shelter. A fire crackles and pops, its warmth licking over your nose and cheeks. A soft, heavy blanket fashioned of rabbit pelts lays over your body, rustling quietly as you nuzzle into the man beneath you.

His chest rises and falls with the even breath of a deep sleep. Your cheek rests against his bare skin and the silky patch of thick, dark hair between his firm pectorals. It isn't really hair - not like yours. It's fur. Soft, dark tufts of it decorate his body everywhere hair would grow on a man; a patch on his chest, under his arms, at the dip of his Adonis belt. It smells like him. Like musk and pine and lavender. Manly and primal, floral and gentle. Christopher.

Hybrids were still treated like dirt in so many ways. They didn't require licenses to live without owners anymore, but still, they were pushed to the margins of the community by the intolerance of common practice. You yourself had been taught to fear them. Monsters, your grandfather had told you, who would turn on their own young in a moment of morbid instinct. Even so, you always found more pity in your heart than terror.

And then, one day, you met him.

You had been loading groceries into the bed of your grandparents' jalopy at the general store and dropped a bag of oats as you struggled to hoist it onto the tailgate. You hadn't even noticed he was beside you when he easily hefted the bag and the remaining two boxes of eggs onto the vehicle without a word. He shot you a little smile, but before you could thank him your eyes were arrested by a pair of sharp brown ears rising from his curly hair. He pulled on a cap and turned to go before you could collect your wits enough to speak.

You had thought of nothing save his warm brown eyes and sweet smiling lips in the weeks that followed, taking any chance you could to steal away to the general store in hopes of seeing him again.

But your paths never crossed. Not until the following summer.

You had packed in to the camping grounds by the lake with a few other girls from your graduating class for a weekend getaway from the menfolk - not that you had any - and you'd joined them rather reluctantly and at the persistence of your grandmother, who insisted a little socialization would do you good.

That first afternoon you quickly grew tired of the chatter. If the weekend was meant to be a reprieve from the men, you grumbled to yourself, then why were they the constant and sole topic of conversation? You gathered up your sketching supplies and walked down the trail a ways, finding that the more distance you put between yourself and the shrieks of laughter and gossip behind you, the better you felt. Soon, you couldn't hear them at all. You settled onto a rock at the edge of a small glen and took your pencil in hand.

Suddenly, some hours later, it dawned on you that your eyes were straining somewhat on the page, and you looked about, startled at the waning light reflecting the late hour. Gathering your things, you hurried back to down the path, only to realize with a sickness in your gut that you were well and truly lost, and that the daylight was nearly spent.

He had found you then, sniffling rather pathetically beside a tree. You'd been alarmed by the sudden sound of his voice, having not heard his furtive approaching steps, but when you raised your frightened eyes to his face the fear had quickly given way to wonder. You'd given up hope of seeing him again, and now here he was, once more in your hour of need.

It was too dark now to find the trail back to the campsite, so you helped divide the load of bracken he had tucked under his arm between you as he led the way back to his cabin, not far into the thick. As you walked you noticed his tail, gray and brown and full behind him. Had he hidden it, that day at the store, you wondered? Did he always when he was around people like you? You remembered how surprised you had been at the site of his pretty ears upon your first meeting and you felt ashamed. You tried to find every possible way to assure him, as you walked and talked, that he didn't frighten you. You hoped he understood.

Before long, you arrived at a little clearing with a log cabin at its heart. Smoke rose invitingly from the chimney, and you found it was as small and homey and warm within as it seemed from the cold darkness of the wood. The stranger gave you bread and stew and hot milk, and you ate with him and told him of yourself and he shared with you in return.

He was a wolf hybrid. The sole survivor of his pack, he had traveled hundreds of miles to settle into the mountains of your home. He made a living hunting, trapping, and gathering the wares of the wild to sell in town, as did a handful of other hybrids living in the mountains - a group of traders known collectively as The Strays. He told you that his name was Christopher, but that most simply called him The Wolf. When you repeated his given name softly and asked if you could call him by it he smiled that smile again, but broader and brighter and with his eyes pressed into little moons and crow's feet in their corners. His canines glinted in the light of the fire and one beautiful dimple pressed into his left cheek.

You were in love.

You asked him, a little shyly before parting the following day, if you could be friends. He smiled sadly and brushed rough fingers over your cheek before telling you that you were already his friend, but that you should keep yourself safe by staying away. People were suspicious of hybrids, and if he were seen with a human woman, it could be dangerous for you both.

At the edge of the campsite, when he turned to go, you grabbed his arm. You told him that every Saturday morning you helped wait tables at Maple's Diner, and that if he came, breakfast would be on the house. You wanted to thank him, you insisted. In truth, you just wanted to give him a chance to find you, should he wish to. Oh, you desperately hoped that he wished to.

And he did. He showed up a few weeks later, ears tucked under a hat and shoulders looking broad in a worn flannel shirt. You gave him coffee and bacon and a pile of pancakes and sat with him when your shift was through. It became a ritual, Saturday mornings at the diner. And then you started meeting for lunch. Then dinner. Then for long walks and trips to the movies. Then he started to take you out for drives in his truck - for picnics in the mountains, to watch the stars from the bed, to never leave the cab or each other's arms as the windows fogged with your labored breaths and mingled heat.

One night your grandparents were waiting up when you returned. Your grandfather was in a rage, your grandmother was all worry and woes. It was a sin, what you were doing, they said. In the eyes of what god, you demanded in return? Your grandmother clung to your arm, begging you to come to your senses - it was dangerous, and worse, you would be ruined for life. You told her that none of that meant anything to you. Only him, he was all that mattered. Only Christopher. To hell with everyone and everything else in that goddamned town that treated him with suspicion and shame - that could never begin to see how perfectly beautiful he was.

Your grandfather forbade you to see him.

You told him you were grown and he couldn't stop you.

He raised his hand, and your grandmother screamed.

When Christopher pulled up in his pickup you were in front of Maple's Diner. He gasped as he crouched to cradle you in his arms and gently brush his fingers over your broken lip and the green bruise on your cheek. He gathered you up, gathered your little bags, and took you home.

Home to the woods.

To the little warm cabin.

To his arms and his heart.

It's the third winter since you left it all behind - everything that tried to keep you from him.

Things are so different now, so simple, slow, steady and intimate in the life you share. You've started talking about pups. Maybe someday. Maybe soon.

You look up at his lovely, peaceful face, washed golden in the firelight, and smile, settling back down against his chest. As the wind howls your eyes slip shut, and you sleep again in the strong, gentle arms of a wolf.

-Fin-

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gaysindistress · 6 months

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Hey my sweet sweetheart 😘 so I'm currently sitting in the dark as the power in the whole town went down and Id have the wish to have Bucky here with me. So there's maybe this idea where they have also no power at the compound and the reader sneaks her way into Bucks room cause she doesn't want to be alone and he prepares everything with candles and blankets to have all comfy so that he can cuddle you all night 🥺 aw this makes me crave him so bad 😞

Hey hey 💕

I tried to finish this yesterday but I got distracted when I got home. Anyways here it is! I hope you survived your power outage 😉

The lights above flickered for a moment before all chaos descended upon me. The generators cry out as they shut off and even the air conditioning disappears too.

“Jarvis?” I hesitantly call for the AI that I hated at first but later thanked Tony for.

“Jarvis?” I call out again but there’s no reply.

I can hear others down the hall calling for him too but they too receive nothing. Vision waltzes through my wall and informs me that the power is out.

“Mr.Stark has yet to confirm when it will be back on. He asks that no one disturb him while he works to turn it back on,” he states before walking through my wall again.

I curse under my breath and flop myself onto my bed. I had been working on a mission report but seeing as the power is out and therefore the wifi, it doesn’t look like I’ll be doing anymore work.

Usually Tony is quick to get things up and running again however this new compound is significantly larger than Stark Tower. There may only be 3 stories to power however it spans across 15 acres, all of which contain various important power sources. I can only imagine how long it’ll take even with the help of Bruce and Peter (granted Peter may just get in the way but it’s the thought that counts.)

The reality of sitting alone in the dark for an indefinite amount of time starts to weigh on me and it’s been less than a minute. It’s not that I’m afraid of the dark, I’m just afraid of what’s IN the dark and being alone without a way to call for help isn’t where I want to be.

I slide out of bed, wrapped up in a blanket like it’s my armor and book it to the door. Popping my head out, I spot Wanda and Natasha walking towards me.

“We’re having a game night in the living room. You should come with us,” Wanda excitedly tells me but Natasha is quick to give me the answer I really want.

“He was in his room when we walked past,” she says with a faint smile.

“Thank you. Maybe next time,” I mumble to them as I dash past and towards his room.

When I come to stand in front of his door, I can’t find the courage to knock. I nervously shift on my feet as i hope the ceiling would come crashing down so i wouldn’t have to knock or survive this power outage. Voices float down the hall towards me and I know it’s now or never.

I gingerly knock, hoping that Bucky would hear and open the door before the voices see me.

The door cracks open and my savior looks at my wearily, “y/n?”

I wince at the harsh sound of his voice as the door cautiously swings open, allowing me a chance to slip in. I take it and tuck myself against the wall as Bucky turns to look at me.

“Come here,” he says in a gentler tone with his arms spread wide. When I don’t immediately take a step forward, he takes a cautious step towards me and waits. I almost knock him over from the force of me launching myself at him.

“Let’s get you into bed,” he whispers after pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I barely nod in agreement and he’s gently pulling me towards his bed. Ever the gentlemen, he doesn’t try to remove my blanket and instead lifts his covers so I can curl into a ball under both layers.

He tucks his duvet around me before leaving and opening his closet. I can’t see what he’s doing but I can hear his gathering things and closing the door. Returning only minutes later to his position next my hunched form, he nudges my hip for me to move over. When I move, I can see that he’s lit several candles and placed them throughout the room. He doesn’t mention it as he crawls in next to me and wraps his arms around me.

“Thank you.”

“No need for that, doll. You know that.”

I move my head so I can look up at him and he does the same. I’ve always thought him to be the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen but the kindness and thoughtfulness of this moment confirms that. He is the epitome of beauty from his looks to his heart.

Bucky glances to my lips for a second and I do the same. It’s now or never.

We meet I n the middle, completely enthralled with each other and this moment. He closes the last few inches and captures my lips in a kiss. He shifts so that hes leaning over me as our lips move together, growing breathless. Pulling away, i smile at the man above me, delicate pieces of dark hair framing the face of this angel.

“You are the best thing that has ever happened to me” I murmur before my lips meet his once again. I feel him nod as our mouths part and his tongue slides against mine.

“And you are my light,” he murmurs back as we wrap ourselves up in each other.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #request

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milla-frenchy · 4 months

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3k3 | Javier Peña x reader ; Steve Murphy x reader Summary: Javi walks away from you, and you don't know how to handle the situation anymore Warnings: 18+ mdni. Infidelity, angst, light dacryphilia, oral (f/m), masturbation (m), piv. No age specified. a/n: as always, thank you so much Kate @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for correcting me, and for the last minutes adjustments 💕🫶 Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates The tittle is from some lyrics of Affection by Between friends ao3 | masterlist

Steve looked at his partner. They had worked together for years and had faced the worst. They had supported each other every time Escobar had escaped from them, every time they had found themselves in the ambassador's office. They had spent countless evenings in bars. And despite everything, Steve couldn't help but betray him.

You had met Connie while working at the same clinic as her, and you two quickly got along well. You were both American, and your situation as expatriates and partners of DEA agents had brought you together. The four of you, with Javi and Steve, had become quite close, often going out to bars or restaurants, or had dinners at home. You really liked Steve. Since then, Connie had left, and Steve was your only friend in Bogota. You often confided in him when you felt the need and supported him as well since he was alone.

One evening, you went to his house, worried and jaded, because Javi was moving further and further away from you. Or rather, from anything that wasn't related to his job.

Escobar was an obsession and Carillo's murder had broken something in him. He stayed later in the bars, and when he came home, he smelled of whisky and frustration. You tried to help him, to talk about it, but he kept getting more and more withdrawn. You no longer waited for him to go to bed, and he no longer woke you up as often as before when he came home in the early morning. For a long time before, you had loved feeling him lying between your thighs while you were barely awake, covering you with kisses, flooding you with his “mmmm… cariño, I missed you so much today. You missed this cock?” as you would respond with “oh god, Javi, yes! Yes, fuck me, please.” And he would sink into you, making you scream on his shaft, to the point where sometimes he had to cover your mouth with his hand, to prevent the neighbors from pounding on the apartment door, while he was pounding you on the bed.

He had never got tired of eating your pussy, but now he dove between your thighs less and less. He even asked you to get up, one evening when you knelt between his knees to blow him, to make him forget everything else.

It was that evening that you left, first driving through the streets of Bogota. And without really realizing it, you found yourself in front of Steve's house, hesitant before knocking on the door. You told him everything, no longer holding back your tears.

Steve hesitated before hugging you. “Fuck,” he thought. He wasn't going to leave you like that, without consoling you, when you already felt rejected at home. Your cries gradually gave way to sniffles, and his cock twitched. “Fuck,” he thought a second time. He wanted to turn slightly away, not wanting you to notice his bulge. But you clung to him reflexively, afraid he would move away, and he felt you freeze.

“I’m sorry, I…” he started to say.

You looked up at him, and both of you lost your mind. Your wet eyes made him lose his mind. A moment, frozen in time, turned into a searing kiss, so impatient and urgent, that none of you stopped while you undressed. He held you close to have your bare skin against his, your breasts against his torso. And finally, you looked at each other. A moment in time, wondering if you were really going to cross that line. Steve broke the silence, asking “what do you want, baby?”

“Wanna feel you Steve. Please. Make me feel something.”

He nodded and grabbed your hand, leading you to the couch, where he asked you to lie down. Kneeling on the floor, he took off your panties, so slowly that you felt yourself melt, and he spread your thighs to open you up for him. The moonlight was illuminating the room, and he looked at your body. He placed his hand on your cheek, and slid it gently down your neck, between your breasts, and watched your nipples harden after his touch. His breathing accelerated, while his hand continued to move down, to your belly that he caressed, then your crotch. He placed his hand flat on your pussy and felt your warmth against his palm. You arched your back, feeling him against you, seeing his gaze on you. He wanted you, he really wanted you, and you no longer knew what it felt like, until now, on his couch. You realized how much you missed it.

He moved his thumb up along your folds, after having covered it with your wetness, until he reached your clit that he gently caressed. He looked at your body and your skin, the way your hairs stood up under his touch. Your back arched again, when his mouth covered your pussy. He licked delicately between your folds, feeling you flinch against his tongue, and took your hand in his. As if to reassure you, or to reassure himself, he didn’t know. His heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was going to explode.

His tongue entered you further, licking up all the wetness that flowed from your core. He sometimes felt it dripping from his chin, and became more and more intoxicated by you, his nose brushing perfectly against your clit. Your free hand squeezed one of your breasts, and you matched the movements of your hips with his tongue, rolling them against him.

Steve pushed two fingers into your pussy and slid his tongue up to your clit. He looked at you, as the tip tickled where his nose was a few seconds ago. Your eyes were closed, and this vision of you, lit by the moon, made him obsessed. He kept fingering you, slowly, and then placed his lips around your clit, sucking gently, and you moaned. He pulled his fingers out and stroked himself with your wetness, before he started gently jerking his hard as steel cock, matching his rhythm to his tongue, now swirling on your clit.

He parted his lips for a few seconds, still fucking you with his fingers, and said “I ain’t gonna fuck you. Ain’t gonna cross that line. But you’re gonna cum on my tongue.” His tongue on you again, he squeezed your hand tighter, and his wrist tightened on his shaft too.

“Steve…”

“I know, baby, I know. I can feel it coming. Let it happen, baby. Let go for me.”

Yet, he couldn't stop himself from moving his tongue from your clit to your folds, even though he knew it delayed your orgasm. He wanted to lick all your wetness coming out of your soaked hole. To eat you all. Until you grabbed his head with your hand, making him keep his tongue on your clit.

“Wanna come Steve, please. Please, make me come.”

He squeezed your hand tighter, jerked himself harder, his tongue now focusing on your clit. He heard you moan louder, and your hips tilted up towards his mouth. You tensed one last time as your orgasm hit you, and he came as you said his name, sending his cum all over his thighs and on the couch.

He caressed the soft skin of your belly, until your breathing finally calmed and returned to normal, occasionally lapping at your pussy, still thirsty for your taste. He stopped before overstimulating you, and you sat up. He reached up and kissed you, running his hand along your cheek.

When you went back home, Javi was sleeping. You slipped into the sheets, very carefully, so as not to wake him up. Guilt started twisting your stomach. He placed his hand on your belly in his sleep, and your throat tightened.

The days passed without anything changing between Javi and you. You tried not to think too much about that night at Steve’s. Javi had told you that things had been a bit tense between them, and that they had come to blows.

You and Steve hadn't seen each other again, until the day when you were waiting for Javi in your car, in the DEA parking lot. He walked over to you when he saw you, and asked kindly how you were going. You smiled shyly at him, telling him that it was pretty much okay. But it wasn’t, and he knew it. Javi arrived, and Steve wished you a good evening as he left for his car.

You came home, and the evening passed almost in silence. You looked at Javi, his eyebrows furrowed. You were both so close and so far away, a distance that seemed insurmountable. When you were ready to go to bed, he took his jacket and told you he was going out. The door closed behind him and for two minutes you stood at the bedroom door. “Fuck you, Javi”, you thought, grabing your jacket and slamming the door behind you when you left the appartment.

“What happened?” Steve asked when he opened the door.

“He fucking left. I was going to bed, and he told me he was going out.”

You took your pack of cigarettes and lit one, before sitting down on the couch next to him. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Steve. I understand your job is stressful, I really do. And this fucking Escobar is always getting away. But I would like to be there to help him, you know? I can help him more than the whiskey he drinks in bars.”

You shook your head and tears gathered at the corner of your eyes but you quickly wiped them away.

“Javi told me you two had a fight. What happened?"

“Photos that I kept in the office ended up in the wrong hands. I thought Javi had leaked them.”

“Steve, come on. You know he’d never do that to you.”

“Yeah, like he would never think I’d - ” He cut himself off before finishing his sentence, shaking his head without looking at you, but you knew too well what he was thinking. You lit a second cigarette, immediately after putting out the first.

“Why did you react like that? And cut the crap.”

In a low voice, he said “you know why.” He looked at you and it made you regret asking. There was too much affection in his eyes.

“Because I care about you. Because you’re not happy. Because if we were together I wouldn’t be in a bar right now.”

You frowned when you heard his words. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have asked, I’m sorry.”

You got up and went to the window.

“Have you heard from Connie?”

“No. She’s been very clear last time. We're taking a break, at best. At worst, it's over.”

He joined you by the window, walking silently with his bare feet, and told you that maybe you should go home, that Javi might be worried. You nodded and brushed past him on your way to the front door but he grabbed your wrist. You stayed like that, side by side, without daring to look at each other for a few seconds, his hand frozen on your wrist.

“Tell me you want me to leave,” you whispered.

“I don’t want you to leave”, he replied.

A few seconds passed before you spoke again, telling him that Javi and you hadn't had sex, since the other night. You turned to him, knowing you shouldn’t have told him that but unable to resist either. You added, “I guess he didn’t want to. Neither did I. Was thinking about you.” Your voice was nothing more than a thin trickle that he could barely hear.

This time you didn't hold back the tears that were rolling on your cheeks. His cock got hard, and he couldn’t help but stare into your watery eyes.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to not go further than last time, you know…”

“Well I don’t think I want you to stop, Steve.”

You pressed yourself against him, your crotch against his, and you gasped when you felt his cock against you. His hands rested on your cheeks as your starving lips devoured each other, and your tongues mingled. Your hands were pressed against his back to hold him against you.

Still kissing him, your hands finally slid up to the nape of his neck and you heard him growl in your ear. You continued to roam his body, your hands slowly moving down his torso. You barely touched him the night before and this time you wanted to feel him under your fingers. You wanted to feel his skin and imprint the sensation in your mind. When your hands reached his waist, you pressed his body against yours and feeling his bulge made you moan into his mouth.

You slipped your hand in his sweatpants. All you wanted was to touch his cock, to feel every inch of him. Delicately, you took it in your hand before taking it out, then you slid his sweatpants down his thighs, and removed them entirely, while you knelt before him.

“You don’t have to….but shit, yeah…wanna feel your lips on my cock.”

You could see his cock in the shadow of the moon, and it was gorgeous. Long and thick, slightly curved. You ran your thumb over the slit, spreading the precum on the tip, before looking up at him and sucking your finger.

“Fuck, babe”, he said, and you smiled. You wanted to please him, and knowing that he wanted you, was craving you, made you drool even more in your panties. You took his tip in your mouth, your tongue gently swirling around its slit. Your hand squeezed his cock and your thumb caressed one of his balls. Your lips rounded around his shaft, your tongue pressed against his skin, you applied yourself to suck him, feeling him shiver in your mouth. When you were able to take him fully into your mouth, you stopped at the base of his shaft, letting his tip wiggle against the back of your throat. You heard him groan, as his hand squeezed your shoulder, and he whispered “wait, sugar please, uh…It's been a while since... this and I ain’t gonna last if you keep doin’ this.”

You stood up and he covered your cheeks with his hands, searching for your lips then your tongue hungrily, before grabbing your ass with his hands and pressing you against him. Then his fingers fought against the buttons of your blouse as you pulled his t-shirt over his head. When he took off your clothing, you wanted to unhook your bra, but he stopped you, saying "no lemme... lemme look at you. Please."

His voice was wavering and on the verge of breaking. You let your arms fall to your sides, while he ran his fingers from your neck to the roundness of your breasts, taking them in his hand while following their shape. He unhooked your bra, and his thumbs caressed your nipples, so delicately that they became even harder. His gaze left your breasts to meet yours, and all you saw was the fire burning there. He knelt down to remove your shoes, pants and panties, and he kissed your mound, making your clit twitch instantly as the memory of the previous night hadn't left you. His tongue slipped between your folds, and he groaned as he felt your wetness, his hands clenching on your ass. But quickly he stood up, and said “I need to fuck you baby, or I’m gonna lose my damn mind”, and you knew he meant it, deep inside.

Kissing you, he led you to his bed, where you lay on your back. Steve asked, “spread your legs for me” but he couldn’t wait and gently pushed them apart with his knee before settling between your thighs. He waited for a few seconds, searching for your eyes, but quickly grabbed his cock and pushed it into your entrance, as if he was afraid that you would change your mind, or scared to read the doubt in your eyes. He ran his hand over your cheek while you got used to his girth, but your need to feel him was too strong. Too urgent. You grabbed his ass to press him against you and moved your pelvis towards him, fucking yourself on his cock.

“Fuck, baby what ya doin’? Gonna hurt yourself.”

“I wanna feel you. Please, let me do it. Don’t let go of me, I can take it.”

“Ok ok, I won’t, I’m right here. I’m with you.” His eyebrows furrowed looking at you, as you couldn’t help but gasp, feeling every inch of his cock spreading your folds, but you wanted to feel him more, always more. Until he was balls deep inside you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he pulled back before thrusting in again, pounding you into the mattress with slow but deep strokes. You didn’t take your eyes off each other, except for the rare moments where he kissed your forehead or your lips, his hand caressing your cheek.

And you had forgotten it, this feeling. Of being desired, wanted. Your own desire to melt into someone else. He was giving you all of this in this moment, and you felt your heart flutter, as you were drinking up this long-forgotten feeling. Your hips now accompanied his, as if in a dance, as if you knew each other for years, intimately. But you didn’t, and it heightened your feelings tenfold. Your eyes were fixed on his, and you read in his furrowed eyebrows and his stare, the same perplexity that seized him, about your proximity.

“Fuck… yeah, keep moving your hips like this. Shit… gonna cum if you keep goin’, baby.”

“I won’t stop”, you murmured and stroked his biceps, then squeezed them with your hands to prevent him from escaping from your embrace.

“I need you to come, baby. Need to feel your pussy clench my cock,” he added, pressing his torso to yours, and you started to rub your clit against him. His face buried in your neck, and his hand resting on your cheek, he continued to fuck you, at a very slow pace this time, and you whimpered, “Steve, I’m so close…” just before you came on his shaft. “Fuck, baby… you’re coming so hard for me,” he managed to mumble. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside”, you breathed out. He didn't ask if you were sure, he knew you were. “Look at me…fuck, you’re takin’ me so good”, he groaned just before pulsing inside you. And you hugged him as tight as you were able to, already dreading his pulling away from you. Once you milked his cock, you felt his body relax over yours and he kissed your neck. You lay against each other without speaking, your fingers running up and down his forearm. When you sat up a few minutes later, he slipped his arms through an old shirt that he probably wore to sleep, without putting it on, and as you were about to get out of bed he pulled it over your head, to hold you against him. You looked at each other but it created a lump in your throat. “What now?”, you thought.

“What are we gonna do, Steve?”

“I don’t know, baby”, he replied, shaking his head slowly.

He released you and you got dressed, holding back the tears that appeared in the corners of your eyes.

When you got back to the apartment, Javi was lying on the couch smoking a cigarette, and he stood up looking at you with a worried look.

“Where have you been, cariño? I was worried.”

“Went out to get some fresh air. I’m going to bed, Javi.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I know I'm not there for you like I should be. But I will try, I promise.”

You nodded and went to bed, and as you lay there, his torso against your back, you hoped he wouldn't slip his hand into your panties, as Steve's cum was still dripping lightly from your pussy.