#I'm supposed to be the moon lover...

[xitsensunmoon]

Moon is getting on his nerves always

[mercy-burning]

Backseat Benefits

"You are the sun and I am the moon; What light you see in me is merely yours, reflected across the length of night" --William C. Hannah

——————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: On your way home one night, Spencer innocently wonders aloud about the benefits of a car's backseat. You aim to show him what they might be. Category: Smut (18+), Fluff Content: Making out, Heavy petting, blowjob, vaginal fingering/oral, good ol' fashioned car foolin' around. Baby Spencer is low-key insecure but fighting through it Word Count: 3.1k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Yeah, so what Spencer wonders about backseats is the thought I had while loading in my groceries this morning LMAOO, and then Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae came on shuffle when I got in, and I started this in the Walmart parking lot. Therefore this is not proofread. I briefly skimmed after I finished, but that's IT. Enjoy!

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You like to think you know Spencer pretty well; Two years of being friends and two more of a relationship under your belts has more than proven your mutual knowing and loving and understanding of each other.

Still, he manages to find ways to surprise you every day without even trying.

Tonight, you're on your way back to his apartment from seeing a movie a few towns over. The moon flashes in and out of view as tall, full trees whip past you in the night. You think Spencer might be staring, craning his head and trying to focus on the moonlight, but eventually you notice his eyes are trained on the rear view mirror.

"Something on your mind, Sunshine?"

His nose crinkles affectionately at the pet name you've coined for him. While you're sure there are more poetic ways to describe his aura and the way he makes you feel, there wasn't a better word in the moment you could have come up with to fully encapsulate his warmth. He was pure sunshine incarnate, and so the first week you'd known each other, it became clear that there was no other option. The nickname slipped past your lips without a second thought, he looked panicked and flushed for a moment before bumbling through his response, and it stuck.

The memory of it makes you smile as he answers you.

"I was just thinking... A large percentage of vehicles have backseats, but I wonder how many of them actually get used... I mean, sure, children basically only know the backseat, and families and friend groups will spend time there... But if you're the owner of a vehicle, chances are you haven't sat in your backseat. And after all, why would you? But it makes you wonder, how many vehicle owners are truly familiar with the backseat of their car?"

The momentary silence between you feels almost comical, but you're only trying to process. Is it a truly curious statement, or...

"Are you asking if I'm familiar with my backseat?"

The suggestive implication in your tone completely goes over his head, answering your question. "Well, no, that wasn't my intention, but... Are you?"

"Kinda," you answer truthfully. "I mean, I've loaded groceries into the backseat, and I've... Spent some time back there."

Spencer looks to you and raises an eyebrow, genuinely curious and asking for elaboration. It hadn't clicked yet.

Another silence falls between you for a while before he understands, his features contorting with realization and then embarrassment. "Oh..."

You can't help but laugh. "I mean, it's been a while, but... Yeah."

"I mean, I suppose it is a cliche for young lovers to hook up in the back of a car... But I didn't even think about it..."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, this car has only seen one rendezvous in my lifetime with it, and it has been heavily sanitized since then. So if you're curious about the backseat of my car, you're welcome to sit back there anytime you like."

He groans, scrunching his nose again, only less affectionately and in that way you've come to recognize as embarrassment. "I'm sorry. That was an odd conversation."

"Hey. I'm serious. Don't you ever apologize for being curious, especially not around me, alright?"

"Yeah, alright."

You can tell he's just trying to move on but that he doesn't actually believe you, and it breaks your heart a little—another thing that's surprised you tonight. After all your years as friends, his inability to recognize precisely how much you adore literally every facet of him never seems to go away. It's gotten better over the years, but on occasion, like now, he fails to believe that someone like you could truly love someone like him. His sunshine slowly starts to disappear behind a little cloud, and though it doesn't happen for very long, each time it does, it makes you want to curse the world and whatever forces have sprung him with storms of sorrow.

And it's happening now.

You make a quick decision to pull over, and he looks over at you quizzically as the car comes to a complete stop.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, concerned more for you than himself.

"No. You put the thought in my brain, and now I just wanna sit in my backseat and see what's going on back there."

Spencer's eyes drop. "You don't have to do that..."

Instead of responding, you unbuckle your seatbelt and leave the car running, opening the door. "C'mon."

He tries to stop you, but you climb out away from his hand and close the door behind you, bracing yourself against the gentle summer wind. And now the thought really is running rampant in your head; You'd never thought about it before, but merely opening the back door feels different in your hand than when you open the driver's door. You don't know if it's just a trick of the mind—a product of the task at hand—or if there's any technical difference in the way back and front car doors are designed.

When you finally sit down in the backseat, you're about to tell Spencer about your thoughts on it only to find out that he's gone, but only for a few seconds. He climbs in beside you, his hair astray from the wind.

You smile. "Welcome to the backseat, Sunshine. Take off your jacket, stay a while."

Your words have managed to make him laugh. A small victory— a beam of light protruding from his little cloud.

"It's roomy back here," he muses, looking around, his smile still lingering.

"It's like a whole new world."

Spencer laughs again, and then you follow, and before you know it, the both of you have fallen into a small cyclone of laughter that parts the clouds and lifts the mood entirely.

"I love you," he says at last, scooting in closer to you, your legs touching now.

You reach your hand out to grab his, bringing it to rest on your chest, right where your heart sits beneath flesh and bone. "I love you, too, Sunshine. Don't you ever forget it."

Your faces have drifted closer now, noses nestling against one another as one more silence befalls you. Only this time, the thing forming in the midst is a different kind of storm. Electric, gravitating, and warm.

His lips find yours with ease, and what a gentle endeavor it is; A small gesture of gratitude and adoration that makes your heart flutter like it had the first time you kissed him. Your hand tightens over his, a squeeze of affection that lets him know you're embracing his warmth, and that you can only hope to return it to him in full.

When your lips part against his, however, something shifts in his gentleness. It firms and grows bold, pressing into you with a desperation that isn't necessarily surprising, but igniting.

You admittedly never pictured yourself making out with Spencer Reid in the backseat of your car, but now that it's happening, the low hum of the air conditioning rumbling through the space between you and the wind rustling outside, you fully embrace the pang of need that takes hold in your body and spreads to every limb.

Wandering hands, curious tongues, and saccharine sighs become your whole world for what feels like hours. Cars occasionally whoosh by, but you pay them no mind, too entirely wrapped up in your boyfriend and the way he's loving you to even consider them. Though, the thought of two government employees being caught for public indecency briefly crosses your mind and makes you huff a laugh into Spencer's mouth.

He breaks apart. "What is it?"

You kiss him again, humming mischievously into him. "Ohhh, you know."

Another kiss, slow and deliberate...

"Just thinking."

Your kisses travel along his jaw, and then his neck. His pulse under your lips is a thrill in its own right, a tangible reminder of the life he so beautifully offers you.

"About the benefits of having an unexplored backseat."

You feel his whole body sigh as your hands untuck his shirt from the band of his pants.

Then he laughs, the sound strained and desperate, and you want to bottle it up and keep it forever. "I thought you've already... explored this backseat."

In another life you would have laughed back, but there is absolutely nothing funny about the way you want him right now. Your body is on fire, screaming at you, begging to please him and feel the weight of him in your mouth, aching for the sounds that slip past his pretty, pouty lips.

Fuck.

"I want to explore it with you," you nearly whine, unbuckling his belt and licking at his collarbone. "God, Spencer, I want you so bad..."

You're not entirely sure what sound escapes him then, but once again he sounds desperate and unbelieving as your hand dips into his pants and palms him over the gray boxers you watched him put on this morning.

It spurs you forward, his desperation feeding your own, and your hand tightens around the length of him, feeling how hard and aching he is.

"Mmm, you want it too, don't you?" you moan into his chest, sinking yourself lower and lower, crawling down his body until your crouched half on the floor of the car.

Spencer swallows hard and tries to control his breathing. "Always want you..."

You grin, satisfied with his state. A man of many words, reduced to half-sentences and mindless whines of want at your mercy. Your sweet, bright boy is putty in your hands, and it's utterly intoxicating.

He manages to lift his hips enough for you to wrestle with his pants and move them down enough so you can slip his cock out of his boxers. Once it's out, firm in your hand and glistening with need, he sits back down and throws his head back.

The sound of your name falls short on his lips the second you put your mouth on him, like he's stopped thinking all together. His world stops, frozen in time as your lips wrap perfectly around him and sink down slowly. Your tongue lays flat under him, firm and wet and warm, and only when he hits the back of your throat does he let out a sound.

You hold yourself there as long as you can, gagging around him briefly before lifting your head and coming off of him with a pop of your lips. A trail of spit comes with them, which you use to help your hand glide smoothly up and down his shaft as you look up at him.

He's watching you work with disbelief, and you're about to say something about it when he surprises you yet again.

"A-Aren't you... uncomfortable? Crouched down like that?"

"Maybe a little," you tell him, squeezing his cock and working the tip in your fist. His eyes squeeze shut, trying to restrain himself from feeling pleasure when you're down here, contorted with uncomfortable limbs. "But that's the whole point, I suppose..."

"I don't follow," he breathes, a whimper chasing after his words when you lean down and press an open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock.

"When you're young and in love... Hooking up in the backseat... Desperate and passionate for someone..." Your tongue comes out and teases under the tip before you continue, his eyes straining to keep open as he writhes underneath you. "If it means finding a little thrill with the one you love... What's a little discomfort?"

You take him fully in your mouth again, bobbing your head up and down when you see him finally submit to it— the pleasure, the thrill...

Spencer moans, loud, the sound vibrating through you and settling deep in your core. You squeeze your legs together grind your hips into the cramped air, seeking friction in nothing but the fabric clinging to your thighs. Quite literally the living breathing definition of hot and bothered, you can't help but slack your jaw and drool on his cock, reveling in the way it glides over your tongue and repeatedly hits the back of your throat.

"I—I can't... I'm gon—na—"

You moan your approval around the length of him, reaching up to hold Spencer's hand as he twitches and writhes in your mouth. With a final squeeze of his hand, he cries out and lets go. You swallow as much as you can, but with the small space and limited room for precision, it gets messier than you figure he'd enjoy. Still, he sighs blissfully as his load lightens, and when he's orgasmed out, you make quick work of cleaning him up.

He watches you in reverence, softly whimpering at every slow stroke of your tongue as it cleans him. You take your time, leaving no inch of him untouched, uncared for...

Your cunt is practically throbbing by the time you come back up, the sensation only intensifying when Spencer pulls you into him immediately. His lips move over yours wildly, a languid labor of love that isn't laborious at all. In fact, he kisses you like he's been doing it his whole life, with no hesitation or question, and with every ounce of enthusiasm one could possibly carry.

Sunshine radiates through his fingertips, hot and enveloping as they slip under your shirt and against the skin of your lower back. You climb over him instinctively, straddling his lap and kissing him back with that same desperation that had infiltrated his kisses earlier.

He's tired from coming, you can tell, but his love for you doesn't waver— it urges him forward, carries his hand down to the front of your pants, and offers the same relief you'd gifted him.

"Please, baby, I need your fingers in me," you whine into his mouth, helping him unbutton and loosen your pants.

"Anything you want," he responds in earnest, finally getting into a comfortable enough position to slip past your underwear and touch you where you want him the most.

He kisses you through a whine, gliding through your cunt with ease.

"Mmm that's what you do to me, Sunshine," you tell him, grinding into his hand. "You make me feel so good."

His middle finger is precise, circling your clit as you try not to fall over on him. Your pants hanging around your thighs make it hard to give him more than restrictive access, but as you told him before, it's all part of the experience.

It certainly adds to your desperation, your kisses becoming urgent and sloppy, and then he manages to slip a finger inside. The fullness isn't stimulating enough to get you off necessarily, but it's welcome and hot all the same. You help him out, softly lifting and dropping your hips to meet his rhythm, and then you reach down to frantically rub your clit.

"Fuck it," he finally breathes, pulling away from you and shifting his weight. "Can you lay down?"

The two of you shift and struggle to position yourselves more comfortably, another fit of laughter tangling between you as you attempt it. Eventually, Spencer is able to remove your shoes and slide your pants down over your ankles, and then he's throwing your leg over his shoulder and bending down.

Even though you have more room, the car suddenly feels cramped, sweat gathering on your body and your muscles cramping from contorting so oddly just minutes before. And now, with your boyfriend's mouth and fingers working in tandem to get you off, you're exerting yourself even more.

It doesn't take very long to approach your orgasm, the evening's built-up tension finally coming to a head.

It also helps that Spencer knows what he's doing— That had been another surprise at the start of your relationship. He was so shy and awkward and prone to bumbling when it came to dating you at first, that the first time you had sex with him, you weren't expecting to be so exhausted that you'd slept straight through three alarms.

His tongue flicks over your clit with rapid, even strokes, meanwhile his fingers accompany them with long and meticulous accuracy that makes for the perfect orgasm. It builds and builds, until your head thumps back and hits the hard plastic of the inside of the door. You laugh through it, your body shuddering under Spencer's care, and you can feel him laughing, too.

As you come down, your body relaxing, he helps you sit up. "Are you okay?"

You can help but giggle, taking his face in your hands and kissing him firmly. "Absolutely. It's all part of the backseat charm."

He considers this with a grin that makes you weak. With one simple smile you've fallen in love with your Sunshine boy all over again. "After all, they say nothing worthwhile comes easy..."

"Mmm..."

He helps you put your pants and shoes back on, then tucks himself back into his own pants and fixes his shirt. And in comfortable, loving silence that needs nothing to fill the gaps, the two of you make your way back to the front of the car, ready to journey home.

The moon sits higher in the sky, not as disguised by the trees, and you look up at it and think about what Spencer said, not pulling the car out of park just yet.

"I don't think it's true," you say, prompting him to tilt his head.

"What's that?"

"That nothing worthwhile comes easy. I don't think it's true at all. Do you know why?"

Again, he ponders, not with a grin but with thoughtful eyes and the pout he pulls when he's considering but coming up empty handed. He shakes his head. "Why?"

"Because I love you. It's the most worthwhile thing I've ever done, and it's not difficult in the slightest."

His brown eyes, impossibly big and always brimming with wonder, have started to also brim with tears. They don't fall—they only well and glimmer in the wake of your words, until he blinks and forces them out.

Your hand reaches for his and he squeezes.

"I love you, too. More than you will ever even begin to comprehend." His voice breaks and puts itself back together through each syllable, and in doing so, chips away any sort of belief that he may not truly be lovable. Day by day, moment by moment, you continue to prove to him just how bright and deserving and inherently good he is.

A direct reflection of the two of you suddenly embalms the car— his bright smile that radiates like sunbeams and the glow of moonlight through the windshield that reminds him of your opaline heart.

Spencer lifts your hand to his lips, and in that moment, you vow to yourself that for the rest of your life, you will do everything to keep the clouds away.

And silently, in the gentle press of his lips to the palm of your hand, he vows the very same.

[drunk-person]

The Promises We Make

Pairing: King!Aemond Targaryen x lover!reader

Summary: She was supposed to be his. Not that filthy bastard. He knew her first. He loved her first. Only to they give her hand in marriage to Jacaerys Velaryon. But now the war is won, and as the new king Aemond can have whatever he wants, and he wants her. He wants to fulfill the promise he made to her outside the sept all those years ago.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, forced voyeurism, consensual exhibitionism, fingering, oral sex F and M receiving, anal sex (very little, but it's there), possessive sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, mentions of murder, Aemond murdering more kin, bastardophobia, Jacaerysphobia, no description for reader.

Word cont: 4.800k

A/n: My little contribution to Halloween "very evil laugh here". To my Aemond wives: This is basically the dirtiest, slightly darkest thing I've ever written, I'm blushing as I post it. Let's go!

Before

The sept was full of people to watch Prince Jacaerys' wedding, he waited anxiously next to the septon for the bride's arrival while slightly moving his hands.

The door opened and Lady Y/n walked in, at the same moment everyone turned to look at her. Y/n smiled beautifully as she struggled to walk down the hallway, feeling her legs still wobbly and slightly damp.

Her eyes burned as they met Jacaerys' and her smile grew even wider. Her steps became more confident, and when she reached the end of the walk, she stopped in front of the septon, still with that smile on her face.

Jacaerys watched her, visibly confused. They had met about three moons ago and the wedding had been arranged. Until then, he hadn't thought she was so eager to get married, since she barely spoke to him usually. But there she was, eager to marry him.

Interlude

Things had never been so bad. His mother and brothers had perished, and from what he could tell Daemon had also found the stranger, only he was left, the last one to survive. Jacaerys did not know if this was a gift or a punishment.

He could have fled, gone to the free cities and been free now. But he was no coward, he was a Targaryen and would not back down. But courage did not help him much when his uncle's men captured him and brought him to the black cells of the red keep.

Aemond Targaryen. Not content with the title of kinslayer after murdering Luke, he sought even deeper immoralities.

He murdered one by one all the ratcatchers at Aegon's command while they begged for their lives. He killed Rhaenys and exposed the charred remains of the queen who never be, to the kingdom after her victory. He personally beheaded each of the remaining ones who swore fealty to Rhaenyra. He burned the riverlands until only ashes remained on the ground without caring if there were innocents there. He personally exterminated House Strong from end to end, sparing no nobles or bastards, women or children.

At the end of the war, when everything seemed lost, he guided his uncle, Daemon Targaryen, into a trap. From what little was known, Aemond Targaryen lured him to Harrenhall Castle, where, separated from Caraxes, he ambushed him in a dark corridor and before the Rogue Prince knew what was happening, he was dead.

And now with the death of Aegon, who had finally succumbed to his wounds and died shortly after murdering Rhaenyra. Aemond had lost his title of one-eyed prince and kinslayer in favor of a new one.

King Aemond Targaryen, the cruel.

Now

The cell was opened with a loud noise and Jacaerys turned to see two guards enter the cell and drag him out without further explanation. And he just followed them without question, but he began to frown when he noticed that he was being taken to the bedroom wing of the fortress.

-Where are you taking me? - He asked, but received no answer.

The guards took him to one of the rooms, tied him to a chair with a thick rope, and without saying a word to him, left him there alone.

A little while later, the door opened behind Jacaerys, who felt the back of his neck shiver. The temperature in the room seemed to drop, and suddenly all sounds seemed to become quieter. There was no need to look back to know who had entered the room.

A low murmur left no doubt, Aemond had ordered him to be taken there.

-Enjoying your stay, my Lord Strong? - He asked in that cynical and cruel voice that made Jacaerys's blood boil in his veins.

-Velaryon. - He growled through his teeth, and Aemond just hummed as he gently curved his lips.

-No, it isn't. And we both know that. But now I don't need to pretend that you're nothing more than a bastard dressed as a prince walking around the court. - Aemond had a deadly voice as he spoke.

-What are you going to do? Murder me tied up like the coward that you are? Just like you did with Luke?

Aemond laughed as if Jacaerys was telling a joke.

-Please don't try to boost your own ego, we both also know that you wouldn't last even a breath in combat against me. - When he finished, Aemond was serious again.

-I'm not going to kill you, at least not yet. - His cruel voice sounded through the room.

-So what do you want from me? - Jacaerys glared at him angrily. - If you expect me to bend the knee, forget it, I will never do it.

-I don't need bastards to bend the knee to me, their false loyalty doesn't represent any value to me. I'm already the king. - He walked while mocking Jacaerys.

-But there are certain things that need to be put in their proper place. There are some promises I made that need to be kept because after all I am a man of my word.

Jacaerys did not understand a word of what Aemond was saying, and came to think that he had finally lost his mind. Until then there was a knock on the door and he said the words that changed everything.

-Come in, my dear.

The door opened and then closed behind him, soft footsteps sounded against the floor and to Jacaerys's horror when the person finally entered his field of vision he discovered that the one who had come through the door was Y/n, his Y/n. He clenched his fists, locking his jaw, trying to free himself from the chair. Aemond approached her and passed the back of his right hand gently across her face as she closed her eyes.

-Get away from her. - Jacaerys shouted in fury.

-I could. - Aemond just laughed as he addressed him again. - If she wanted me to stay away.

-She never wanted you, my dear bastard. It was always me. - Aemond's mocking smile almost tore his cheeks as he caressed Y/n's neck with his fingertips, his stomach tingling with contentment as he saw her sweet, soft skin shivering with his touch.

-Lie. - Jacaerys practically shouted as he stared at Aemond with cold eyes.

-I'm going to show you the lie. - The king said, suddenly becoming very serious, his eyes flashing in the direction of his bastard nephew.

-Take off your clothes. - He ordered Y/n who hesitated for a second because she was in front of Jacaerys.

-Aemond… - She blushed visibly looking at his hands.

-I said take off your clothes. - He murmured the order very seriously as he gently caressed her chin.

She then obeyed, and looking only at Aemond she removed them piece by piece little by little, becoming completely naked. The look of pure desire he gave her made her press her thighs together tightly as she bit her lip, momentarily forgetting that Jace was in the room.

-Come here, my love. - He called her, extending his hand and Y/n immediately went to meet him eagerly.

-Always so obedient to me. - He said, stroking her hair as she practically rubbed her head against his hand.

Jacaerys watched this without reacting. Y/n had never obeyed him, she seemed like a wild horse. She wouldn't let him touch her, she was never willing to sleep with him, she was cold and cruel no matter what he tried, the few times they lay together she hadn't even moved in bed, or completely removed her clothes, seeming to do nothing. the slightest matter of being there. And now here she was obediently naked before Aemond as she melted into his touches.

Aemond moved his hands down to her nipples and squeezed them languidly, making her open her mouth in a soft moan, while she leaned towards him, silently begging for more. He then brought his mouth to her left nipple, sucking and kissing it, making her moan softly for him as he caressed his hair, pulling his mouth closer and closer to her.

The king then brought his right hand to the top of Y/n's thighs and smiled mischievously against the flesh of her breast, still with the nipple between his teeth, as he felt the moisture that was there.

-Always so wet for me.

He then had an idea. And releasing Y/n, causing her to let out a groan of frustration, he positioned a chair in front of Jacaerys a short distance away.

-Sit here, my dear. - He waved his hand, and Y/n, even hesitantly, did so.

-Now I want you to open your beautiful legs for me, and rest them on the chair. - He spoke in that soft voice and Y/n felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair for doing that in front of Jacaery, but she did it anyway.

Aemond stopped behind her and slowly ran his hand down Y/n's body, caressing her breasts, her belly until he reached where he wanted. And then he opened the lips of her pussy, exposing her to Jace. The wetness dripped from inside her uncontrollably, wet like Jace had never seen.

Aemond smiled mischievously as he gently caressed her folds, spreading more and more of the fluids that ran from her pussy, making her moan and gasp.

-Just look at her, Jacaerys. - He said maliciously. - Melting for me, so wet.

-Has she ever wet herself like this for you? - He said, slapping Y/n's pearl, making her scream as she threw her head back.

-That's enough! - Jacaerys shouted, fuming with rage at seeing his wife in that situation.

Aemond just laughed darkly as he inserted two fingers into Y/n's intimacy, who threw her head back in pleasure with the movements he made.

-Oh my dear Lord Strong, this will only end when I have fucked each of her delicious holes in front of you and taught you how a lady likes to be treated.

As he said that, he squeezed that spongy spot inside Y/n, making her beg for his name in pure desperation. Her moist flesh pressed against Aemond's fingers, begging for more contact, begging to be filled.

-Always making such sweet sounds for me, sweet girl. - Aemond whispered close to her ear, making Y/n gasp squeezing the back of the chair with that voice sounding so close.

With an almost evil smile, gently licking his lips, Aemond turned around, lowering himself between her legs in front of the chair and without warning, pulling her by the thighs, leaving her wet and warm pussy very close to his face.

-Raise your hips a little for me, my dear. - He asked in a firm voice and she did it at the same moment, needing his care more than ever. - Good girl.

Without waiting another second, the king took her moist folds into his mouth, tasting her with desire, eliciting screams and gasps from her lips, which for Aemond were as sweet as that pussy.

-Oh Aemond… - She sighed his name between degrading moans of pleasure as he sucked her pearl and played with her using his tongue, while his long fingers hit that specific spot inside her that made her scream every time. - More, please, more.

Aemond laughed in pure malice against her, making her feel even more pleasure, her soft walls contracting against his fingers as her whole body began to spasm slightly, Y/n's moans became louder and more debauched as she tangled her hands in Aemond's silver hair, practically rubbing herself against his face as ecstasy took over her body, screaming the king's name in desperation as she reached her peak and collapsed against the chair, feeling boneless. The body giving slight spasms as Aemond teased her sensitive pearl with the tip of his tongue even after the intense orgasm.

-Who do you belong to? - Came the firm question in Aemond's laconic voice as he held her by the hair to face him, now standing in front of the chair.

-To you, my king. - She sighed, staring at him.

-Then get on your knees for me like the good girl I know you are! - He growled, still holding her by the hair, making Y/n moan with contentment as she got up from the chair with her legs still slightly shaking.

As she stood up, she caught a glimpse of Jacaerys again, momentarily even forgetting that he was there, and with a mischievous smile she knelt in front of the chair where Aemond was now sitting.

-You know what to do, Issa jorrāelagon. (My love). - He murmured with a sickly side smile to Jacaerys who was about to vomit, while delicately stroking Y/n's locks of hair.

-Yes, my king. - She sighed, nodding eagerly. Without needing to hear anything else, she guided her hands to the laces of Aemond's pants, pulling them avidly, overcome by the desire to please him too.

Her hungry eyes shone as she finally placed them on Aemond's already hard and leaking cock, caressing his hardness with a lewd smile on her lips. Y/n ran her soft hands all over his length, from the base to the tip, leaving a gentle caress with the tip of her thumb on the slit from where that pearly liquid slowly flowed.

With an even bigger smile when she heard the king grunt softly, she finally brought her lips to the tip of his cock, slowly sucking only that part until her cheeks sank, moaning at the same time as he felt the strong taste of his pre-cum on the tip of his tongue.

Breathing deeply through her nose, she lowered her lips as far as she could, sucking and licking him with praise. Taking her mouth off and taking a breath, she only lowered her lips to his balls and kissed and sucked them hard while she moved her hand back and forth on his member, eliciting grunts and gasps from his trembling lips. Without warning, she lowered her lips once more to his cock, making him growl and tangle his hands in her wild hair.

-I'll fuck your mouth. - He growled, giving the first thrust against her lips and Y/n did her best to nod, feeling her eyes water. Aemond grunted lightly with his hands tangled in Y/n's voluminous hair while she sucked his cock hard, kneeling between his legs more like a whore than a lady.

-That's enough. - He growled, feeling his body tremble slightly with agonizing pleasure on the edge of the abyss, making Y/n remove her mouth from his cock and look at him with those doe eyes shining with tears, as if she hadn't just sucked him like a whore, her lips still full of saliva and pre-cum.

-Come here, sweet girl. - He pulled her to sit on his lap with a sideways smile, leaving a hungry and wet kiss on her lips, feeling her moan and rub her hot, wet mouth against him hungrily. For a moment he almost forgot about Jacaerys' presence in the room, so lost in the softness of Y/n's lips and pussy.

Until he heard the sound of wood hitting the floor and looked at his nephew over Y/n's shoulder, letting out a laugh when he saw him writhing in his chair, his eyes burning with fury as he tried to free himself.

-I thought you were stronger than that, my dear nephew. - Aemond murmured mockingly as he firmly squeezed Y/n's ass with both hands, making her moan and throw her head back, rubbing herself even more against his cock.

-Aemond please…- She sighed without caring about Jacaerys. - Please…

-Please what, my sweet? - He asked, laughing, kissing her neck roughly as he looked cruelly at Jace, waiting for Y/n's answer.

-Fuck me. - She begged him without any shame, grinding on his thighs and rubbing her wet folds against his hard, leaking member. - Please fuck me, my king. I'm yours.

-Did you hear that, bastard? - Aemond growled, serrated his lips and then biting Y/n's neck, making her scream for him. - It's me she wants!

With these words, he brought his right hand to the friction zone between the two of them and with a smile of satisfaction, guided his own hard cock, leaking inside her, making her moan with satisfaction as she descended on him.

-Yes… yes… yes… - She sighed in joy, feeling him stretch every corner of her to the edge, scratching the leather of his jerkin, hungry for more contact, hungry for more of Aemond.

-My girl is so needy. - Aemond hissed, slamming his hips against hers firmly, making her scream. - Always eager for my touch, always begging for me.

-Harder, Aemond. - She moaned between sighs as she nodded her head, going crazy with each bite the king left on her neck. Going up and down on his cock, riding him harder and harder, feeling goosebumps covering her skin with the sensation of pleasure that only Aemond could give her. - Please… please…

Growling with pleasure, Aemond tangled his left hand in her hair and pulled her against him, taking her lips in a wild kiss full of greedy bites, while lifting her hips from the chair harder, making her tremble above him and grip him even tighter.

Pulling her lower lip into a bite, he trailed kisses down her neck to her breasts, sucking and caressing them with his tongue, drawing even more pleasure from Y/n, who threw her head back lost in pleasure, finding her husband's glazed eyes watching the scene, looking like he was about to vomit.

The pleasure in her core multiplied. She liked the feeling. She liked seeing the humiliation in Jacaerys' eyes as Aemond took her. Y/n liked the feeling of knowing that he was feeling even more humiliated than she felt every time she was forced to endure his touch.

Feeling Y/n's walls contracting around him, Aemond guided his hand to her sensitive pearl that gently brushed against his pelvis with synchronized movements and caressed her even harder, making her scream and tremble above him, rolling her eyes in pure pleasure.

-Who do you belong to? - He growled breathlessly into her ear, feeling on the verge of his own orgasm.

-You, my king! - She practically sobbed amidst her moans, burying her face contorted with pleasure in the gap between his neck and shoulder, still riding him with trembling legs. - You. Only you.

-Look closely, you bastard. - Aemond growled, rolling his eyes in pleasure as he fucked Y/n with abandon. - I want you to see how well she cums on my cock.

With a loud moan of Aemond's name, Y/n came all over his cock, shuddering and convulsing as she collapsed on him, squeezing him so hard that she practically ripped the orgasm out of the king, who grunted and bit her shoulder, feeling the pleasure tear him apart as his seed invaded her hot pussy.

The two of them stood still for a few moments, panting and immersed in pleasure. The only sound in the room was their uneven breathing. Jacaerys could very well be dead in all that silence. Little by little, Aemond felt his cock slowly come back to life as Y/n's pussy spasmed around him, driving him completely crazy.

She whimpered against Aemond's neck, feeling his now semi-erect cock still buried deep in her sensitive intimacy. Aemond cooed softly at her as he stroked her hair.

-Are you okay, my dear?

She nodded at him as she stared at him with a tear-stained face.

-Can you hold one more for me? - He asked, tucking a strand of Y/n's wild hair behind her ear.

-Yes. - She sighed, throwing her arms around his neck and panting when she felt Aemond harden beneath her again.

-Then be good, go to the bed and get on your hands and knees for me. - He murmured with his lips pressed against Y/n's ear, while firmly squeezing both of her ass cheeks.

Y/n stood up and gasped as her body disconnected from Aemond's and with wobbly legs she walked slowly to the bed, not sparing even a glance at her husband still tied to the chair. Aemond's seed ran down her thighs along with her own fluids and with a sigh she knelt on the bed making every effort to stay steady, with her legs aching after sex.

Aemond walked to the bed and opening the last drawer he took the bottle of oil and Y/n moaned with contentment already knowing what was coming. He positioned himself behind her and gently kissed each of her ass cheeks before spreading them, exposing her wrinkled hole. She sighed at him and leaned her body even further forward just as she knew Aemond liked, her gaze meeting Jace's at that moment with a smile of pure satisfaction as she saw tears running down his damn face.

Y/n then felt the first finger soaked in oil entering her ass and sighed as she buried her face between the sheets. It didn't take long for Aemond to insert the second and then the third while making slow movements with his hand. He brought his other hand to her swollen clitoris and gently stimulated it, making her sigh and moan with the double stimulation.

And when he removed his fingers she waited anxiously for what was to come, the feeling of pleasure taking over her body as Aemond invaded her ass with his cock slowly.

-Seven hells. - Aemond moaned as he sheathed himself completely inside her. - Always so tight back here.

He then slapped Y/n's ass making her moan and began to fuck her hard against the mattress while she moaned desperately. Aemond pressed her pearl again leaving her a mess of moans and gasps for him as she begged for more. She no longer had any strength in her arms and collapsed on the bed, only with her hips raised as Aemond held them and she tried to keep them in the right position with the little strength she had left in her body.

-Whose cunt is this Y/n? - Aemond growled as he pinched her pearl between his fingers making her scream and spasm on the sheets.

-Y-yours Aemond. - She whimpered at him with tears of pleasure running down her cheeks.

-And whose mouth is this? - He murmured leaning down and kissing her in a way that could be passionate and dirty at the same time.

-Only yours my king. - She moaned between kisses.

-And whose is this tight, delicious ass? - He asked, slapping her left cheek, fucking her even harder while stimulating her clitoris with his fingertips.

-Yours. - Y/n cried and moaned. - Only yours, Aemond. Only yours. Always only yours my king.

Jacaerys could no longer look, could no longer feel repulsion, all of this was too much for him. Y/n was his, it was not supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be the king. Y/n was supposed to be his wife. Tears ran uncontrollably down his face as he saw his wife being degraded in the worst and most repulsive way before his eyes.

-Cum for me one more time Issa jorrāelagon. (My love). - Aemond spoke with his body glued to hers as he sped up his movements, and shortly after Y/n came with a moan and collapsed on the bed while Aemond came deep in her ass with a guttural moan and bit her right shoulder.

-I love you. - She said with a tired smile as Aemond pulled out of her and kept his own intimacy in his pants.

-Avy jorrāelan tolī, issa jorrāelagon. (I love you too, my love). - He murmured softly only for Y/n's tired and sleepy ears, as he left a wet kiss between her shoulder blades.

Y/n had never said those words to Jacaerys, had never even come close, had never even told him that he was tolerable. And a tear of pure hatred and betrayal ran down his face. He saw her in bed falling asleep covered in sweat with Aemond's seed dripping down her holes while Aemond smiled victoriously at him.

-What did you do all this for? - He asked with a choked voice trying to keep it steady, feeling the bile about to make him vomit after seeing one of the greatest atrocities of life happen in front of him. - You already had her now.

Aemond walked slowly towards Jacaerys with confident steps and a smile that was a mix of victory and malice.

-No my hateful nephew. I always had her. She was always mine. And you always trying to steal what is not yours dared to put your filthy paws on her perfect body! - He hissed with his eyes burning with fury, leaning over the chair and staring at him deeply.

-On your wedding day she came to me crying and begged me to take her virginity so that she would not have it stolen by you. - He smiled at the memory in an almost melancholic way. - And I did as she asked and fucked her, while she was still wearing that wedding dress, before you had even seen her in it.

-When she entered the sept, it was with my seed dripping down her thighs, just like now. - Aemond laughed victoriously as he watched Jace shake his head in pure shock and sadness.

-She never wanted you, she came to me every chance she got and begged me to give her the pleasure she knew only I could give her. - He hissed angrily, his voice low and deadly. - She told me she felt disgusted every time she needed to feel your touch against her skin and that she would kill you in your sleep if she could.

If Aemond had told him this a few hours ago, Jace would have denied it, said he was lying, but now… there was no denying the facts. Not after the torture she had subjected him to. Not after seeing his wife being sodomized by his uncle while she cried and begged for more beneath him.

-And now… - Aemond said, approaching with a sick smile as he pulled the dagger from his belt. - I will fulfill the promise I made her years ago.

And with his eyes still glazed over from the nightmare he had been forced to watch, Jacaerys waited silently for the stranger, who was certainly coming to meet him in the form of Aemond Targaryen.

The promise

-When my brother is king and I am your hand, I will take you for myself in front of that filthy bastard, and when I finish giving you pleasure, I will cut his throat and take you as my wife. - Aemond whispered softly against her jugular, very close to her ear, making her skin crawl.

And with that promise, Lady Y/n entered the sept to marry Prince Jacaerys with a smile on her face.

The future

Y/n felt free, she felt light, she felt like the most beautiful creature in all the kingdoms. The maids were preparing her wedding dress, beautiful as only something royal could be.

The council warned Aemond about the fact that marrying the wife of Prince Jacaerys, who had consistent rumors that the king himself had slit his throat, would not help improve his already low reputation. But he did not care. And ignoring all opinions, he set the wedding date as soon as possible, because he was sure that his seed had already taken root now with the absence of moon tea.

And today, finally, the most important day of all had arrived. She would finally be Aemond's, Aemond's and his alone, no more unwanted touches, no more pain, no more tears. She would be his alone. And that was why she smiled as they arranged her clothes. Shortly after they had finished dressing, combing her hair and putting her shoes on, all the maids left her alone in the room. It wasn't long before she heard a light knock on the door. Frowning, she went over and opened it, finding a young page standing there with a yellowed piece of paper between his fingers.

-The king ordered this to be delivered to you my lady. - He said, giving her the paper, bowing and then walking away.

Y/n smiled even wider if possible, and when she opened the paper, she thought her heart would explode with pure happiness.

"I'm thinking of you, see you in the sept.

A.T."

She pressed the letter to her chest with a sigh of joy, and then safely put it away in her bedside drawer.

Lady Y/n, soon to be queen, entered the sept with a smile from ear to ear, but this time it was for all the right reasons.

[yanderestarangel]

HEADKANONS MK1 | 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 + 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐊

TW: smut, anal sex, vaginal sex, blowjob, thigh fetish, mutual masturbation, degradation, pet names, bdsm, blindfold sex, overstimulation, oral F!receives, afab anatomy, no pronouns used other than 'you'.

Bi Han makes a standard sound when he's close to cumming, it's loud, hoarse moans and he'll curse as fuck off while he feels the familiar tightness in his balls - that is, you can tell when he's going to cum, mainly by the deep grouch sounds that come out of the ropes his vocals of him-as well as liking to cum on your belly or cum on your face, using his fingers of him to spread his essence all over everything. "-Fucking beautiful, dirty like a fucking stupid whore, look at this angelic face and dirty with my cum." -Bi Han said satisfied, looking at the mess he made on you. "-Our night isn't over (Y/N) I'm going to fuck your throat until you can't talk anymore."

Liu Kang likes to have you between his legs, sitting on his dick while he solves some things about the hourglass of time, he takes more pleasure in seeing you having fun, sleepy and drunk with pleasure, fitting your pussy on his fat dick while you I drooled on his muscular chest, leaving a wet trail - he would just say: "-Shhh my beautiful treasure, enjoy, feel stronger on my dick and melt into the pleasure I can give you." -while one of his hands were on your back, massaging lightly.

You were the first person to fuck Raiden, it was slow and loving sex, he was an extremely affectionate man asking you if you were enjoying it enough, where he was supposed to touch that caused you the most pleasure, if you were enjoying it enough to keep fucking him. You fucked on a cool night with a full moon, while the young Shaolin smiled at you, bringing one of your hands to his face. "-I love you (Y/N) and I will never forget this day."

Kuai Liang is a lover of sucking pussy, exclusively your pussy - he would stay 24 hours between your thighs if you let him and he could, stimulating your clitoris with his tongue and sticking his fingers inside your tight hole, licking the sensitive and smooth bundles of nerves while moaning softly against the flesh of your cunt. He loves teasing your clitoris by sucking, licking and rubbing - Liang loves sucking your pussy while looking deep into your eyes, absorbing every moan, reaction and sigh from your lips. "-What a sweet pussy (Y/N), so beautiful, tight and needy, just wanting my mouth, isn't it?" -Kuai Liang removed his mouth from your pussy, his tongue leaving a trail of saliva between your pussy and him. He soon turned you on top, making you ride his mouth. "-Sit on my fucking face, you naughty slut, let me feel that beautiful pussy cumming and squeezing my tongue."

Tomas Vrbada is the type of man who whines and gets overstimulated very quickly, especially eating your pussy, with you riding him, he will whimper and moan as he thrusts his hips hard, using the friction of your creamy, bulging walls for his cock, while he holds your hips tightly, he will cum inside you, but his dick will still be hard and dirty with cum, begging for more. "-Please (Y/N)... Fuuuck... I want to cum again, I need to make you scream, cum for me, squirt with your little pussy on my dick."

Syzoth has a fetish for having his head pressed between your thighs, he loves the feeling of your soft flesh slightly suffocating him, staying between his legs and just masturbating, feeling your dominance with him is the way to make Syzoth cum faster, going and coming with his hand on his own dick while feeling his soft skin. "-Yeesss~ Fuuuck (Y/N), this feels so good, I swear I'm going to fuck you so hard later." -he said salivating, while masturbating between the delicious tightness that you offered him.

Kenshi uses blindfolds on you too, it's a bit of an unfair game, since he can still see because of Sento, but he likes to see you completely at his mercy, seeing your lips twitch in surprise, after all the target can be anyone one, your pussy, ass, mouth and in various ways, from simple penetration to delicious oral, with his tongue and fingers moving in harmony to give you pleasure. You felt him play with your nipples, using an ice cube, removing it and placing his hot tongue later, alternating between the two poles of cold and heat. "-This time I surprised you, didn't I, my love? Totally at my mercy, a beautiful and good little slut." -Kenshi soon returned to playing with your nipples, sucking and nibbling the cold area, going with his fingers to your pussy, it was going to be a long night.

Johnny Cage is a man who loves blowjobs, regardless of the time or day, he loves having your lips wrapped around his dick, he loves sex with you in general, but blowjobs are his weak point, it's a vision of paradise for him. see with your eyes full of tears, looking at him beautifully, totally submissive, he guides your head to the base of his dick, you could feel the heat of his balls on your chin, and Cage's thick, pulsing length teasing your throat. Johnny likes to see you swallow everything, every drop he can he will give you - Your knees hurt as you sucked him, seeing Johnny look at you as he slowly sipped a martini, the taste of the drink and the sight of you there, submissive to him , it was enough for Johnny to cum. "-Yes my good boy/girl, swallow my cock like the beautiful and hungry little thing you are" -Johnny spoke between moans, moving his hips even more, seeking fiction with your mouth. "-Look at the mess you're making on my floor with that pussy, so wet, such a fucking beautiful little boy/girl, I'm going to fuck you until you're a stupid and beautiful mess, just as you should be."

Shang Tsung loves to fuck, your breasts always put him in a good mood after a busy day as a royal wizard. He always gives you a dominant look, calling you a "good pet" when he sees you kneel and show him your breasts, while he used your mouth to drool and lubricate his dick first, pulling out roughly and with a loud sound, inserting his cock between your breasts, holding each of them as he smiled and moaned at you, forcing you to lick the head of his cock in the process. "-Holy shit (Y/N) what wonderful breasts, they are perfection, and all of them are just for me, you are mine, and you will please me like the good little pet you are."

Kung lao likes to do quickies, whether it's mutual masturbation, with you masturbating his dick with your hands and him using his fingers to fuck your pussy while you both moan loudly and needily, or fucking you doggy style in some bathroom at the restaurant. Lady Bo before his work or training - he needs to cum to relieve it, while moving in and out of your pussy, massaging your breasts while covering your mouth with one of his hands. "-Shut your little mouth my love, we don't want to be heard, do we? Just a beautiful little slut desperate for my cock." -Kung Lao pushed even further, taking you to the limit as you trembled against his cock, while he took one of his hands from the soft flesh of your pussy to your ass, slapping his skin.

Reiko likes to have sex toys, vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, all to use with you. He likes to fuck your pussy using his dick + the vibrator on your clitoris, increasing your pleasure and even a little pain, due to the intensity - he turns the intensity to maximum - watching you writhe beneath him, or, making you use anal plugs, especially heart-shaped ones, fuck you while moving the plug in your ass back and forth, giving you double pleasure. "-You really are so sensitive, aren't you (Y/N)? Walking around with a plug in that pretty ass, a wet pussy like yours... A perfect slut for me." -Reiko removed your anal plug, making a wet sound, taking the dick out of your pussy and sticking it in your ass and cumming inside.

Shao Khan is not going to fuck you right away, he is a huge man, that is, if you are content with just rubbing your pussy on his dick or his muscular thighs, he will be content with just watching you cum for now, seeing your little body and pussy, on top of his thighs, while encouraging you to continue, as it was pleasurable for him too. "-You are such a needy human (Y/N) just enjoy the pleasure this great General can give you."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[cumironi]

hi I see you want a request! hb some angst to comfort !drunkgojoxreader where he always shows up drunk confessing his feelings but then acts normal when he’s sobered up. Reader is tired of mixed signals and ends up going on a date with someone when gojo happens to visit sobered up

you can do whatever you want if u happen to be inspired! Hope this helps you get out of your funk

“OH, MY LOVER IS DRUNK” : GOJO SATORU

you and him, you were supposed to be best friends— supposed to. but neither you nor gojo can't keep the feeling of falling. he tries to deny the feeling so hard that he has to drown himself with alcohol, the thing he loves the least, just to forget the feeling, only to come back to you every time he is drunk.

w/c 4.5k

warning : drunk! gojo satoru, non-sorcerer gojo!, angst.

p.s thank you for giving me a chance to write you something, and I'm sorry it took me long enough to write this :'), but i hope you enjoy it! (i don't think i make this angst enough for my liking)

fanart credit to the owner.

it was a tranquil night, the moon casting a soft, ethereal glow through your apartment windows, bathing the room in a gentle light. though the clock read 3:00 AM, sleep eluded you, your mind too restless to find peace. lying on your cold bed, you stared at the ceiling, each pattern and shadow playing tricks on your eyes in the dim light. the blanket was draped neatly up to your stomach, its weight a comforting presence against the chill of the night.

your hands lay flat on top of the blanket, fingers nervously tapping the back of the other hand in a slow, rhythmic cadence. the silence of the night seemed to amplify every tiny sound: the soft rustle of the sheets, the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the apartment, the almost imperceptible hum of the city outside. despite the stillness, a storm of thoughts churned within you, each one keeping you wide awake and alert, as if anticipating something just beyond the horizon.

you were anticipating something, no— more likely, someone. that someone, neither your boyfriend nor your anything, he just likely is a more sinister thing, disguised as a best friend, unfortunately. sinister thing, you describe him, where a silver thread lies between you and him— a bright and bold, tale of your love, gojo satoru.

he is, my sinister thing’ you thought.

you were adrift, suspended in the air, with no destination, no specific place to call home. you existed in a state of limbo, neither firmly standing nor lying down, hovering in a liminal space. your presence was neither filled with love nor marked by the experience of being in love.

you were perpetually caught in a paradox, always existing in a state of “neither,” but never fully reaching a place of clarity or resolution. your existence was defined by an absence of definitive states or emotions, perpetually undefined and drifting, forever caught between the edges of presence and absence.

it was always waiting, waiting, and waiting.

just like how the night before, and before, and right now, waiting in your bed for him to knock— and when he does, you, mindlessly, like you're in ecstasy running a little by little in the middle of the night to open your door, without realizing there's another door you open— your heart.

stumbling, drowning in a sea of alcohol he hates, gojo satoru walks in. and you, like the idiot you are, guide him to your barely-fits-for-his-over-six-feet -ass couch, comfortably lying him there.

“careful,” you whisper through the night.

your warm hands meet with his cold ones, gripping you as if he's holding on for his dear life. you drape his body with a blanket, big enough for you to shield not only his physical form but also the emotions he holds for you, hidden beneath the warmth, hide his love for you, not that you need to know. gojo‘s blue eyes are warm, and dull as they indulge softly in the moonlight and gentle glow from your little lamp on the cover of your living room, appear soft and subdued.

you find yourself seated on the cold, hard floor, while gojo stretches out on your couch, facing you with a look of serene contentment. his handsome face is illuminated by a crooked yet mesmerizing smile, a testament to his charm even in his inebriated state. his hands, chilled and seeking, grip yours with a familiar desperation, yearning for the warmth you effortlessly provide.

this nightly ritual has become a part of your routine—gojo, drinking away his soul, stumbles through your door, his steps wavering yet purposeful. he collapses onto the couch, and you remain on the floor, the quiet observer of his vulnerable confessions. as he speaks of his love for you with a fervor that seems to swell with each passing moment, it’s as if he fears losing you with the break of dawn.

he loves like you’re the very essence of his existence, the heartbeat of his every moment. his affection is a force that shapes his world, a flame that burns eternally in his soul. to him, you are the embodiment of all his dreams and desires, the one who makes every day brighter and every night more meaningful. his love for you is not just a feeling but a profound truth that defines his very being.

when the alcohol fades and his clarity returns, he resumes his usual demeanor, leaving behind only the tender echo of his heartfelt declarations and the gentle imprint of his touch on your hands. he pretends, gojo satoru likes to pretend.

“always so beautiful,” he whispered, his smile fading as his eyes wandered over every contour of your face. he traced the delicate path of each freckle, every mole, and the subtle lines that marked the passage of time, memorizing every exquisite detail in his heart. his cold hand gently cupped your cheek, sending a chill across your skin that mingled with the warmth of his gaze, as if he were imprinting the essence of your beauty into his soul.

he draws your entwined hands closer to his chest, where his heart, in truth, has always belonged to you. from the very first moment you met, it was never his alone; it has been yours from the start. as your palm rests against his chest, you can feel the soft, steady beat of his yours heart, buried beneath his flesh—an intimate rhythm that pulses with calm and a tender, unselfish devotion.

a small smile graces your lips as you rest your chin on the couch, gazing deeply into his eyes and letting yourself be enveloped by their depth. “i’m in love with you,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with intoxicated. “so in love that i can’t remember a time when i wasn’t, as if my soul has adored you since the dawn of everything,” you listen to his heartfelt confession, witnessing the gradual collapse of his defenses, and your eyes shimmer, heart-shaped.

gojo chuckled softly, his voice thick with intoxication. “do you recall the first and last time we made love? your lips on my neck, since that day, your mouth has been nothing but heaven,” his words tumbled out in a drowsy, slurred cadence.

you, too, remember that day with crystal clarity; it is etched deeply in your mind, an indelible memory that clings to your thoughts like a cherished, haunting presence. each detail, every sensation, has become a permanent part of you, woven into the very fabric of your being. the memory of his touch and the sweetness of his kiss linger, a profound and enduring echo that remains with you always.

you still can feel his touch on your skin.

“of course you don’t know,” he whispered, his voice heavy with the weight of intoxication, as his thumb traced gentle patterns across your cheek. “and i’ll gladly take the blame for that,” he continued, his words slurred with inebriation, “i-i kissed your hair while you slept in the morning,” his giggle, light and childlike, bubbled up with a carefree delight. “i wonder if you ever knew.”

you shake your head gently, a small, small smile touching your lips, just a little. you wouldn't dare to open your mouth, oh, you wouldn't dare. to speak would risk breaking the spell of his drunken state, causing him to sober up and retract the love he has so freely and vulnerably shared. the thought of him withdrawing those tender confessions and retreating into the safety of his guarded heart is a fear too profound to bear. because at that time, it's all you have, his drunkenly confession.

so you remain silent, savoring the warmth of his affection as it envelops you, clinging to this fleeting intimacy as if it were a precious secret. afraid that when the dawn’s approach looms, threatening to sweep away the ephemeral beauty of his heartfelt revelations, leaving only the ghost of his love behind.

it's a frightening, haunting, spine-chilling sensation that grips you, filling you with an aching dread, so you remain silent. because maybe, in those three am confessions are your only salvation. just like a dark mirror to cinderella’s tale, your reality is sinking down from the ceiling, swallowing you whole when he sobers up when the sun hits your cheeks warm.

“oh, god, i love you so much. . .” he whispered, his voice laden with vulnerability as he clutched your hand tightly, pressing it against his chest. “this love i feel—it terrifies me. i'm scared for the love i have for you, it seems so powerful, like it could burn me alive or utterly ruin me. even so, i know that i’ll let it be, but fuck. . . i'm so scared.” his breath was uneven and strained, each gasp revealing the depth of his fear.

his eyes, gleaming with the weight of his emotions, flickered with a poignant brilliance before finally closing. as he drifted into unconsciousness, the full embrace of the alcohol took hold, and the tender confessions of his heart were swallowed by the enveloping darkness.

you remain in quiet contemplation, letting his heartfelt words gently seep into your thoughts. you extend your arm along the edge of the couch, laying your cheek softly against it as you gaze at gojo’s tranquil, slumbering face. his lips, tender and slightly swollen, and his cheeks, flushed a soft, rosy hue reminiscent of crushed cherries from the effects of the alcohol, form a serene portrait of vulnerability.

in the gentle light, his features are softened by the peacefulness of sleep, creating a stark contrast to the emotional intensity of his earlier confessions. the calmness of his face, so vulnerable and exposed in repose, contrasts beautifully with the passionate turmoil of his words.

as you watch him, the room seems to hold its breath, enveloping you both in a tender silence that honors the depth of the moment. the delicate interplay of light and shadow highlights the serene beauty of his sleep, allowing you to cherish the profound intimacy of this quiet, shared space.

when the morning comes, he'll sober up, and the alcohol will have faded from his system, washed away by the sunlight along with his love for you. he'll blame the alcohol in case he said anything foolish, and you? oh, you would find yourself blaming the moon, even the sun, because it's breath away the day for night to come, for casting hope into your soul, into your heart, and also crushing it at the same time in the harsh light of dawn. leaving you to grapple with the fragile hope that was both a blessing and a burden.

it was cruel, worse than cannibalism. you could have borne the agony of having your flesh consumed, but not the ravaging of your soul and heart, oh please, not my heart’ you would plead into the darkness as night falls. you were scared too, not because of loving gojo satoru, loving him is as natural as breathing, but because of the depth of your devotion— you are scared your devotion would turn violent. your devotion would make you believe him like a god, and he'll betray you like a man.

yet, despite the pain, you find yourself eternally awaiting the arrival of night, longing for those confessions whispered at 3:00 AM, even knowing they will leave you shattered by morning’s light. each dawn brings the same heartache, and today is no different.

you awaken to the insistent chime of your notification, your eyes fluttering open to the stark emptiness of your apartment. the couch where gojo once lay is now vacant, the space where he slept cold and unwelcoming. the blanket he used before now wrapped around you, carries no trace of his warmth. the comfort it once offered has dissipated, leaving behind only a hollow chill and the echo of his absence.

your grip tightens on your phone, the pressure biting into your hands, but it’s a mere shadow of the pain coursing through your heart. suddenly, the dam within you gives way, and a torrent of tears spills down your cheeks, cascading like a relentless river. the exhaustion of navigating gojo’s endless emotional games weighs heavily upon you, a suffocating burden that leaves you breathless.

you don't want anything, the only thing you want can't be bought with money. if i ask for your heart will you give it to me?’ you mock yourself. what a fucking loser.

“oh god. . .” you whisper, forehead touching the floor as you wailing in silence.

you feel foolish for clinging to the hope that, perhaps this time, he might remember, that he might repeat the tender words of the night before. yet, as each morning dawns with the same emptiness, your heart aches with the weary realization that your hopes have been in vain, leaving you to grapple with the sorrow of unfulfilled dreams.

the evening was settling into a serene quiet, your apartment softly illuminated by the warm glow of your lights. you were almost ready for your date, anticipation mingling with a sense of hope as you made final adjustments to your outfit. watching yourself in the mirror, you realize how dull your eyes are, losing their spark. after everything, you decided to bury your feelings beneath your flesh until only you know your love for gojo satoru.

a knock at the door disrupted your preparations, and when you opened it, gojo stood there, sober and uncharacteristically subdued. his eyes, usually brimming with playful energy, now reflected a deep, almost mournful sadness.

“hey,” he said, his voice softer just like always. he glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the subtle details of your evening preparations—the carefully chosen attire, the delicate scent of perfume, and your eyes, those bright, beautiful eyes.

you moved through your bedroom, selecting accessories and adjusting your outfit, each motion a quiet ritual in the evening’s anticipation. gojo watched from the doorway, his gaze fixed on you with a deep, almost reverent intensity. his silence spoke volumes, a contrast to the usual banter that characterized your interactions.

gojo’s voice, tinged with an unexpected vulnerability, broke the silence. “where are you going?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of concern and hurt.

you hesitated, caught between the desire to protect both his feelings and the truth. his gaze, usually so playful and intense, now bore a raw, wounded quality. the gravity of the question hung heavy in the air, and you could feel the weight of the decision you had to make.

“i’m—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. you could see the hope flickering in his eyes, mingled with the pain of realization. you knew that this was more than just a casual question; it was a plea for understanding, for clarity amid his confusion.

he took a step closer, his usual nonchalance replaced by a genuine yearning to grasp the reality of the situation. “i just want to know,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, “where you’re going. what’s tonight for you?”

you looked at him, your heart aching with the weight of his unspoken fears. the room felt charged with the intensity of the moment, every detail amplified by the quiet desperation in his voice.

“i’m going out with someone,” you finally admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “tonight is… it’s meant for someone else.”

the words hung in the air, their impact palpable. gojo’s face fell, the light in his eyes dimming as he took in the truth of your plans. he nodded slowly, the understanding settling over him with a heavy sadness.

“i see,” he said quietly, a bitter edge to his tone as he took a step back, giving you space. “i didn’t realize…” the finality of his words and the desolate look on his face were almost too much to bear.

you hesitated, unsure of how to respond, but before you could answer, his gaze wandered over you with a mixture of admiration and sadness. “you look…” he started, his voice faltering slightly as he struggled to find the right words. “you look really beautiful tonight.”

his eyes roamed over your outfit, the careful details you had chosen, and the way the light caught in your hair. there was a softness in his gaze that spoke of more than just physical appreciation— it was as though he was trying to hold onto every fleeting moment, every detail of this evening as if to etch it into his memory.

“you always look beautiful,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “but tonight. . .. tonight it’s different. you’re. . . breathtaking.” the sincerity in his words was palpable, mingling with the unspoken sadness in his eyes. he didn’t move, didn’t retreat from the moment. instead, he stood there, quietly observing, letting his admiration and affection fill the space between you.

“i didn’t mean to intrude,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving you. “i just wanted to see you one more time. before you go.”

the room felt heavy with the weight of his gaze, the emotional intensity of his words. you could feel the ache in his eyes, a mixture of admiration and longing, as he took in every detail of your appearance. the compliment, so genuine and heartfelt, seemed to hang in the air, a poignant reminder of the affection he still held for you.

“it's okay,” you nodded softly, gazing at him from your mirror with a little smile, kissing your lips. the date was meant to be an escape, a chance to move forward, but it felt like an endurance exercise.

your date was polite and engaged in conversation, but there was an undeniable disconnect. every word spoken seemed to drift past you, a mere backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts that consumed your mind. the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the casual chatter all felt hollow, lacking the vibrancy you had hoped for.

as the evening progressed, the sparkle of the city lights and the charm of the venue did little to lift the weight on your shoulders. the conversations felt superficial, the moments fleeting and unremarkable. you smiled and nodded in response, but your thoughts were miles away, tangled in the memories and the lingering presence of gojo.

you couldn’t help but replay the images of that earlier moment—gojo’s earnest eyes, the softness of his compliments, and the way his gaze had followed you with such unspoken longing. his presence had imprinted on your heart so deeply that everything else seemed to fade in comparison. the way he had watched you, the tenderness in his voice, and the painful silence after he had left all resurfaced in your mind, casting a shadow over every interaction of the evening.

the date dragged on, each passing minute feeling like an eternity. you forced yourself to remain engaged, but the thought of gojo’s unspoken words and the gentle way he had looked at you overshadowed everything. you were caught in a cycle of longing and regret, unable to escape the grip of your own emotions.

as you stepped out of the restaurant, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the evening. your mind was still heavy with the weight of the date's emptiness, and the city lights seemed dimmer as you walked towards your car.

just outside, by the entrance of the restaurant, you noticed a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost. gojo stood there, his posture relaxed but his eyes scanning the crowd with a determined focus. as your gaze met his, his face softened, revealing a mix of relief and something deeper.

there you are, beautiful, mellow you. walking alone looking pretty in that silk dress that you should be wearing for him, not the other man, him. seeing you so breathtakingly beautiful makes gojo satoru want to crash into every piece of you, and fuck, he swears to god, that's how stars are born.

“hey,” he said softly, pushing himself off the lamppost and walking towards you. the usually playful tone in his voice was replaced by a sincere warmth. “i thought i might catch you before you left.” you stopped in your tracks, a flutter of surprise and emotion rising within you. “satoru, what are you doing here?”

you're in front of him, eyes glimmering under the lamppost and the moon. gojo wants to run, to bury himself under the ground, or just tell you to stop looking at him with those eyes. stop touching me with your eyes’ he thought.

“i-i. . .”

even so, his eyes never leave yours, shaken as he tries to swim into your orbs. how its color slightly changes under the lamppost makes it even harder for gojo to speak as if the ground is a new language for him, and suddenly, he forgets everything he knows about gravity.

“please love me. .” he whispered, throat dry.

for a brief, electrifying moment, your eyes widened in astonishment. your heart is pounded with a frantic rhythm, faster than the fall of distant stars, yearning to escape its confines and find its way into gojo’s hands. it ached with a longing so intense that it felt almost unbearable.

the pain of desiring something so profoundly—something you’ve never truly known—made you question why your heart should yearn for a home it has never experienced. yet, despite never having been there, it cried out with an ineffable need to be held by him.

it was always his and never been yours since day one, but he already holds onto your soul with an unrelenting grip and your heart— your only refuge, is all you ever had to keep living. you can't live your life if all you ever had is just merely flesh and bone.

“satoru, are you drunk?”

“no—” he shook his head, fast enough to hold both your hands and bring them closer against his chest, where his heart was beating faster, also begging to be handed to you. “i'm in love with you, y/n. i'm sorry i always pretend like i don't remember in the morning, but please. . . i don't dare to, maybe if i love you less it would be easier for me to talk, but fuck—”

he paused for a moment, and in that suspended breath, your only fear was the possibility of him retracting his heartfelt confession. the weight of his unspoken words hung in the air, and you found yourself dreading the loss of such a precious revelation. the thought of him pulling back, of his feelings fading into silence, was the only shadow that cast fear over your heart.

so you shook your head, “no, don't stop,” you plea.

gojo swallows his pride, he feels pathetic. but he would bear the life long of feeling pathetic if it is meant to have your eyes on him, to have your skins and bones knit with his then so be it. “i love you—oh god, i fucking love you, in the purest, chaste, most victorian sense,” he says, laughing softly. “even a mere glimpse of your ankle might be enough to drive me mad.” you can’t help but chuckle along with him.

his hands enveloped yours with a desperate intensity, holding them as if they were the very essence of his longing. “i love you,” he breathed softly, his voice mingling with the whisper of the night breeze. “i want every single one of your tomorrows.”

he guided your hands closer to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to your wrist, his touch both tender and reverent. his eyes locked with yours, revealing a depth of emotion that seemed to illuminate the darkness around you. the moment his lips left your skin, the faintest trace of coldness lingered, as if the warmth of his affection had left an indelible mark.

with a gentle but purposeful motion, his hands slid to your waist, drawing you nearer. his touch was both firm and delicate as he turned you around, guiding you until your back was nearly pressed against the lamppost. the soft glow of the streetlight bathed you both in a halo of light, casting long shadows and highlighting the closeness of your bodies.

in this intimate cocoon, the world seemed to fade away. the chill of the night, the warmth of his breath, and the quiet intensity of his gaze created a fragile moment of connection. his presence enveloped you, a promise whispered in the night air, as if he were claiming every future moment with you, even as the night deepened around you.

“please. . ..” he beg.

he leaned in, his face inches from yours, until his lips lightly brushed against your own. “please, love me,” he whispered once more, his voice tender and pleading. his warm breath caressing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

the proximity of his lips, the softness of his words, and the gentle warmth of his breath all combined to create a moment of intimate vulnerability. his plea hung in the air, laden with the depth of his emotions, as he sought to bridge the gap between your hearts.

as the world around you seemed to slow, gojo’s gaze lingered on your lips with an intensity that made your heart race. his fingers, still resting on your waist, drew you even closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you. the soft glow of the streetlight cast a gentle halo around the two of you, accentuating the intimacy of the moment.

with a deliberate tenderness, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation built like a quiet storm as his lips inched closer, brushing against yours with a delicate, almost reverent touch. the kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration that spoke of deep longing and unspoken desires.

his lips moved with a slow, deliberate grace as if savoring every second of the connection. the initial softness gave way to a deeper intensity, his kiss growing more passionate as he pulled you even closer. the world outside seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his lips pressed firmly against yours. his hands cradled your face, his touch gentle yet insistent, guiding the kiss with a blend of affection and need.

the warmth of his kiss seemed to infuse every part of you, a melding of hearts and souls that transcended words. when he finally pulled away, his eyes still locked onto yours, there was a look of profound contentment and vulnerability. the kiss lingered in the air between you, a testament to the depth of his feelings and the fragile, beautiful connection that bound you together.

as you slowly pull away from the kiss, your lips linger near his, you meet his gaze with a fierce resolve. “if you ever mock me or play with me,” you say, your voice steady yet charged with intensity, “i swear to god, satoru, i’ll fucking hunt you down.” the words hang between you, your breath mingling with his, a silent promise of the depth of your commitment.

gojo’s eyes spark with a playful glint as he hears your words. with a mischievous smile, he leans in, giving your lips a series of soft, teasing pecks. “i won’t,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, but with an undercurrent of sincerity. “i promise.” his playful demeanor contrasts with the intensity of your threat, yet his gentle touches and warm gaze convey a deeper assurance.

[underoospeterparker]

🪸 CORALS with best friends to lovers!remus

one year late but better late than never!!

bestfriend!remus lupin x reader, eventual romantic!remus lupin x reader, 1.8k words, implied fem!reader but can be read as gn!reader if you wish <3

cw: a bit of angst, love confession at the end!

Remus Lupin had been your best friend since you'd sat on the Hogwarts Express together, shoulders squished in the tight carriage, both incredibly shy and worried if you'd fit in. He'd offered you a piece of the chocolate slab he'd stolen from his Mum and stashed in his jacket pocket and you'd been enamoured ever since.

You were his first friend, and his yours, Sirius and James only came later, when he watched with sad eyes as you were sorted into Hufflepuff and him into Gryffindor. Nevertheless, you had a similar timetable, with Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts together, and you were attached at the hip from eleven years old.

Second and third year brought its challenges. Remus curled in on himself a bit more, burrowed himself in his studies in the Library, flanked by James and Sirius, who were much too loud for quiet Remus, in your opinion. But you stayed close. You were there for his transformations, you were there to reassure him that he was beautiful, despite his scars making you want to cry.

Fourth year was odd. Pandora seemed to hang around Remus more often, twirling her hair and giggling whenever he even spared a glance at her. You bit back a feeling of jealousy when you watched her and Remus. He was supposed to be your best friend, not hers. You caught Remus watching you, quietly, when he was supposed to be listening to Pandora, a hint of something you could never read in his expression. You brushed it off. He was allowed to like other girls. Wasn't he?

In fifth year, James and Sirius became animagi to help Remus with his transformations, followed quickly by you. James was a red stag, Sirius a black dog, and you, a white cat, Remus's favourite. You grew even closer, if that was possible. It was either you, hanging onto Remus's side, or Remus, trailing after you like a lost puppy. Neither of you wanted to be apart from each other, it seemed.

You and Remus have been best friends for six years now, though it feels like you know him like the inside of your palm. You could tell when a headache was forming by the way his eyebrows furrowed, his forehead lines becoming slightly more prominent, but it never made him any less handsome. You could tell when the full moon was arriving without looking up at the sky because Remus would grow more lethargic, limbs aching under the slightest touch.

He sits, now, resting lazily on a seat in the Great Hall when you arrive, his hair tousled from sleep, but his eyes do soften when you enter and take your usual seat next to him. "Hi, dove," he greets, a lopsided grin already tilting his lips upwards. You try not to notice his dimples and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and instead focus your gaze on his eyes, returning the smile. "Hi, Rem. Sleep well?"

"Okay," he lies, and you recognise it instantly. He's never been able to fool you. Concern furrows your brows, and Remus's heart squeezes a little in his chest at the worry, clear as day, on your face. He redirects the conversation to the homework essay for Transfiguration, and you're half paying attention and half looking him over worriedly. He's a little pale, his eye bags a little darker.

Remus is perceptive, though, and he notices your silent fretting. "I'm fine, dove. Don't worry," he placates easily. "Just tired."

You frown up at him, but at the look on his face, you don't protest. Just sigh. "You've been working too hard," you murmur. "Not to mention the full moon's soon, and your body needs rest, Rem." You tilt your head at him. "If you don't sleep for a full ten hours tonight, Remus, I'm ringing up your Mum."

He laughs, amused. "Oh, you wouldn't dare." He notices the serious look on your expression, and his eyes widen slightly. "You're not joking?"

You scoff quietly. "I don't joke about your health, Remus. It's important that you take care of yourself." You pick at the sausages on your plate, appetite suddenly gone. "You have a lot of people who care about you, Rem. We just want you to be okay."

He softens, slinging an arm around your neck. "I'll sleep," he promises softly, pressing a fond kiss to your temple. "I swear. If it makes you feel better, I'll sleep." And he knows, in that moment, if you'd asked him for anything, he'd have said yes, with absolutely no hesitation.

You soften, and he feels it against his side, smiling against your hair. It's probably too close to be friendly, but you can't bring yourself to pull away, and Remus can't bring himself to let go of you. He's too selfish to let you be anywhere but right by his side, where he wants you, all the time.

The full moon arrives three days later. Remus is aching everywhere, and he's a little more irritable, but you can't bring yourself to care in the slightest. He's slouched over in the Library when you find him the night after the plenilune.

Your hands are gentle as they reach for his shoulders, but he startles anyway, relaxing a fraction when he realises it's just you. He's still tense, you can feel it in the tightness of his neck, the frown permanently fixed on his lips. "You got out of bed too quickly, Rem,” you murmur quietly, dropping a fond kiss into his hair. "Should've rested more. Even Pompfrey said so."

Remus sighs quietly, feels a little well of irritation bubble in his chest. "I couldn't miss classes," he replies. "I've missed far too much already." He pauses for a second, before adding, tone a little colder than what you're used to, "And I'm fine. I don't need you worrying about me. You're not my Mum, and you're not my girlfriend."

"I'm still your best friend," you offer quietly, trying not to wince at his harsh words. You know not to take him seriously after a full moon, but your heart doesn't care. Your hands are still gentle in their pressing of his shoulders. "You can lean on me a little, you know. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

The irritation bubbles over. "I don't need you," he snaps, pulling away from your touch. He regrets it instantly in the way you flinch, your eyes falling to the ground, downcast. He can't take it back now, can't take back the way he hurt you, but he hates the way you withdraw from him. Everything in Remus's body begs him to reach out to you, and he stands up. "Wait-"

You shake your head, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "It's okay. I'll leave you alone, then." Your eyes flicker up to his, sad, for a second, before you turn and walk away, leaving him standing there, feeling worse than when you'd arrived. Remus stares at the spot where you'd stood for seconds, which stretch into minutes, before he packs up his books and heads up to his dormitory.

It's two agonising days before Remus sees you again, walking with Lily. You look tired, worn out, sad, and it makes his heart ache. He wants to talk to you, wants to make it better, wants you to be by his side like you're supposed to be. You're his, he thinks.

"Dove," he coaxes, stepping in front of you. "Let's talk. Please." You've never been able to refuse him, so you nod meekly. Lily squeezes your arm, a quiet support, before she leaves. Remus's big hand on your elbow is gentle as he tugs you into an empty classroom. He doesn't let go until you pull away, and even then, he looks miserable at the loss of contact.

"What do you want to talk about?" You mumble, eyes not meeting his. His heart squeezes in his chest at the disconnect, but he's too afraid to reach out again. Remus has always been a bit of a coward.

He sighs quietly, fingers twitching at his sides. "You know what." He swallows, careful. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm an idiot for talking to you like that. I'm sorry, and I'm an arse." He doesn't give the full moon as an excuse, and that makes the ache in your chest melt a little.

You reach out, hesitant, for his hand. "It's okay," you murmur quietly. "You were just... lashing out. I get it. You were in pain." His hand wraps around yours, thumb brushing the back of your palm in swipes that calm your heart, too intimate to be friendly. "I forgive you, anyways."

Remus tugs you closer, and your eyes drift up to meet his. His breath catches at your closeness, the way your eyes are soft and gentle and compassionate, and all he can think is that he doesn't deserve you and he never will. You're too kind for a messed up lycanthrope like him, and he knows that whatever he does, you'll forgive him. "You shouldn't," he murmurs. "You're much too good for me."

His arms are iron bands around you, keeping you tucked against his chest like you're treasure, something precious for him to protect. "If there's one thing you are, Remus, it's good," you counter softly, and his head is spinning with your soft words and the way you feel against him, like you're two puzzle pieces being slot together...

"I love you," he admits quietly. The room stills for a second as you pull away, just a centimetre, to process what he's just said.

When you do, your breath hitches, and his heart beats painfully fast in his chest at the expression on your face. "I've loved you since I met you. It took me far too long to realise it, and longer to stop being a coward and spit it out, but I'm in love with you." He rests his forehead against yours, breathless. "Please say something, sweetheart. You're killing me here."

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "I love you, too," you manage to whisper out, and Remus is beaming at you like you hung the sun for him, cupping your cheeks in his big, warm hands. "You're it for me, Rem. Knew it the second you broke off a piece of your precious chocolate for me."

He lets out a surprised laugh, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones. "I'll give you anything you want," he breathes softly, and you know that he's being completely serious. "I'd give you the whole world if you asked for it."

With your heartbeat much too fast to be considered normal, you murmur, "just kiss me already, Lupin." He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling at the edges, as he leans in, his hands framing your face. He's sure to make it the best kiss of your life. And when you leave that classroom, tucked against his side, you've never felt more loved. And neither has he.

[jacaerysgf]

Bound by blood

summary: Its the morning after your unspoken confessions with jacaerys. And you are faced with the aftermath of your actions.

r.q: Ok 1. Your writing is so good 2. I need a part 2 to Jacaerys x alicentdaughter!reader where reader stays with Jacaerys joining team black and we need tk get everyone's reaction to alicent daughter!reader staying like

w.c: 2.1k

c.w: implied smut, alternative timeline, dialogue heavy, nail biter jacaerys, aemond appearance, fluff, even though they are now lovers they still argue lmaooo, not proofread, happy ending!

a.n: heavily requested im so sorry this took awhile and it might not be what people wanted but i hope you all enjoy !! <3

masterlist

Your eyes flutter open and you rubbing your hand to cover your eyes as the bright shining sun begins to shine rays down on you. You look over at the spot next to you expecting to see jacaerys laying next to you but instead you reach over and feel the cold spot next to you. He must have been up for a long time.

A pit forms in your stomach maybe preparing yourself to turn over and see a cup of moon tea sitting on the bedside table but when you’re instead greeted by a folded piece of paper and a cup of water with some fruits.

‘I'm sorry that i will not be here when you awake my love, i had some things i must discuss with my mother. Do not rush yourself but once you're ready you should make your way to the main hall so we can speak.

with all my love, jacaerys’

you sit up, chugging down the cup of water and taking a few bites of the fruit before sliding off the bed, eyeing the red splotches of blood pooling around where you had been laying leaving some dried blood on your thighs. You needed a bath. As if they could read your mind a maid walked in and you jumped.

“i am so sorry for startling you princess.” with a bow of her head you relax and bring the blanket to wrap around yourself suddenly feeling very embarrassed that she saw you like this. An unmarried woman who had clearly been sullied.

“The princess had requested i come here and run you a bath my lady” The princess? your face heats in embarrassment as you can only nod you head. He had told her, of course he would, especially after last night he seemed very keen on you staying here with him.

The only you could think about as you get scrubbed down was the slight ache between you legs and your mother. You wondered how she would react to all this, what was going to happen when you don't return home, or maybe you do but come back? all of your stuff is in the keep but its nothing of true value to you you suppose, everything that matters to you is here because all that truly matters to you is jacaerys.

You worry what your family will think if you don't return home, maybe that they killed you or kidnapped you. Will they send people here to come retrieve you? You wonder what jacaerys is doing right now, is he considering the same things you are?

You're shocked to be presented with a nice black dress instead of your older green one, you stare at your old dress on laying on the ground. You remember when she had gifted it to you, she had said it was hand made for you made in the house color. You remember her face and how she smiled at you when you spun around to show it to her and how she told you how gorgeous you looked. you look back at the maid who was looking at you expectantly and you apologize allowing her to dress you. You cant get hung up on these things, especially now that you’ve chosen to stay it does break your heart a bit to think about the fact that your last conversation with your mother was so short.

You try to suppress your anxiety as you are led towards the main hall where jacaerys had asked you to met him. when you get closer you can hear heavy discussions, you try to softly open the door but once you’re in the room the door closes so loudly behind you you hiss. Dreadfully turning around to see the room full of not only rhaenyra daemon and her children but the velaryon’s and many a council man.

“Good afternoon.” Everyone nods their head at you giving you a good afternoon in return. You don't notice him until he's standing right in front of you, “jacaerys,,”He lifts up your hands and presses a kiss against your lips. “Did you rest well?” You nod and he smiles at you, his hand reaching into his pocket and pulling out a necklace, reaching head hands behind your back to clip it on you.

You grab it in your hands and notice its a black metal sigil of house Targaryen. You look at him and he's just smiling at you, “You like it?” You hum and nod your head, he grips your hand and leads you towards the table where everyone had been standing around watching you. Your face heats when you notice rhaenyra’s happy face and daemons smirk.

“Now that the princess is here might we address the issue at hand?”

“where are we to go from here?”

Jacaerys takes a step closer to the table keeping one of his hands on your back “as i said we will be married tonight-”

You flashes back to last night where he had mentioned over and over again with shake breaths how he would marry you and how he would love to be your husband. You look down at the ground as you flush.

“Not to rain on your parade my prince but i have to be the one to ask it, how do we know the princess is to be trusted?” His hands slam on the table and he leans forward glaring daggers at the lord, “You will not accuse my wife of anything-” You place your hand on his back, “please do not get angry on my behalf Jace its fine. Besides there's something i should bring up.”

Everyone in the rooms attention turns to you, “I think it is best if i return to the keep.” Jacaerys whips towards you with an alarmed look, “what-” “i believe it is best if i inform my family i am staying here in person.” “That is a horrible idea they are animals!” “And you think they would act any better lest they believe me kidnapped?!” “You could send them a letter.” “a letter that you could easily have forced me to write they need to see and hear me say it.” “you are acting irrationally.” “I am acting irrationally?!?! for fearing they shall send their bannermen here to storm dragonstone putting everyone in danger?!”

“do they even like each other?” lucerys whispers to rhaena who just shrugs, baela stands with her arms crossed staring at the pair who are glaring daggers at one another, “they are angry because they care about each other.”

“and you would rather risk your own life?” “it is the best option-” “you are a ridiculous women.” “and you are nothing more than a fool if you believe you are right!”

“and what if they believe you are forced into saying it?” daemon cuts into you and jacaerys argument. You take a deep breath and step away from jacaerys, “They shall believe me, i am family.”

You look at jacaerys who has begun biting on one of his nails with a far away look. You grab both his hands and lace them with yours. “you must realize i am not asking for your permission.” he sighs and rests his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. “You must not leave me.” You can feel his heartbeat in the palm on his hand, beating erratically against his skin. He is afraid. Of not only you not returning back to him because you were forced to stay in the keep but because he is afraid you will not returned because you will be slayed.

“i will return to you i promise.” He is silent for awhile, thinking it over before he nods and takes a step away from you without a word. You turn your attention back to everyone else in the room trying your best to suppress your embarrassment as they give you sly looks.

“I do however agree with my son i worry for your safety should you return to the keep, they are not kind people.”

“I thank you for your worries my queen but unlike the rest of you they consider me their own flesh and blood. the worst that would happen to me is a few bumps and scratches i swear this. As i had been saying it is best if i were to return as soon as possible as i was even supposed to return last night. I am surprised they have not sent anyone to see me.” You know your mother must be worried sick and it leaves a pit your throat that you swallow down to your stomach. You cant think about those things right now.

As if on cue you hear a loud dragon roar from out side and you whip your head around to look out the window. “Vhagar.” “Aemond.” Jacaerys spits out next to you his face angry.

“I should go speak with him.” “I shall come with you.” “absolutely not. I will not have him harm you jacaerys. You remember what he did to you Jace.” You hand running lightly across the cheek where he had been struck.

“I shall go.” “I'm sorry prince daemon but i fear you are the worst option.”

You instead turn to the most familiar face in the room, “ser erryk will you accompany me?” As he was your sworn protector before he had left he nods, “Of course princess.”

A few more exchanges are spent between you and the others in the room, exchanging a kiss with jacaerys before you exit erryk quickly following behind you. Rhaenyra walks over to jacaerys and places her hand on his shoulder. “She will be fine sweetheart. You should not worry.” She rubs his back as he runs his hands down his face. “I hope you are right my queen.” She pinches his back lightly and smiles at him. “You love her.”

“More than anything.”

The grip you have on the fabric in your hand is tight as you quickly make your way down the bridge while aemond gets off vhagar. “Sister I am shocked to see you unharmed.”

“Aemond.” He stares at you with a curious look in his eye. “I had told mother the storm must have kept you held up but she was insistent i come and see you myself. She’s been worried sick.”

“extend my apologies too her.” He raises an eyebrow and looks you up and down. Once you two lock eyes and you stare at him not saying a single word. He seems to catch what you are saying and scoffs. “You are a fool.”

You shake your head at him, “They would not want me home anyway. For i have been tarnished and tainted by one you claim to be a bastard.” He freezes and you catch it even if its for a split second. His eye twitches. He says nothing just stares at you for a long moment. “I thought you were better than this. That you would get over whatever fascination you had with him. But it seems i was wrong.”

“extend my well wishes to sister and mother.” You toss your green dress towards him and he catches it. eyeing it before he looks back up at you. “I should kill you where you stand.” He makes no move to make good on his word, you doubt he fears ser erryk taking a step closer with his hand on his sword. “You do not wish to kill me brother. For there is no worse fate than being a Kinslayer.” Without even sparing another glance at you he climbs on vhagars back and flies off. You do not move from where you stand until he leaves you sight in the sky. a bittersweet feeling filling you stomach knowing it was the last time you would probably see him.

You do not notice you are even crying until ser erryk is crouched in front of you using his cape to wipe your face. “It is for the best princess.” “was it hard to leave your brother ser erryk?” he pauses for a moment, deep in thought before he nods. “It was. but i know it was for the best. You should feel the same.”

You rush back inside and are quickly greeted by jacaerys who was pacing anxiously by the doors his nail in his mouth but he quickly springs into action wrapping his arms around you tightly. burying his head in your neck as he lets out a sigh of relief. “do not worry my love. nothing will separate us.” and it is the truth. for not only a few hours later you two share a blood kiss, bounding the two of your souls together at last.

--

tags: @b00kw0rmsworld

[mocharyc]

𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚜 Pt.3! (SMUT)

♡ Spicy time with Mohawk Mark ~ ♡

✩ ‧ ₊ ˚ Promises to Keep‧ ₊ ˚

⚠YOU CAN READ THIS BY ITSELF OR FOLLOW THE SERIES⚠

((SEMI SLOW LEAD UP TO SMUT))

☆ WC: 10k+ [Pt.3] ☆ TW: SMUT (Sexual intercourse with Mohawk) ☆ Authors note: Hey, so I wrote this very chap VERY descriptive, read it when you have time and wanna get into a hot moment, lol. A lot of details were added, so you can really ENVISION this first-hand.

Anyways, Mohawk has a snarky, sarcastic personality on the outside, but I believe he gets really soft and needy during sexual stuff with his lover... hehe **cooking time turns spicy** ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The walk back to the fortress was filled with comfortable chatter, the group's dynamics having shifted into something remarkably harmonious after their day at the lake. As they approached the towering structure—no longer just a shelter but beginning to feel like home—Y/N found herself falling into step beside Mohawk, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet since they'd left the shore.

"Getting ready to admit defeat?" she teased, nudging his arm with her elbow.

Mohawk's eyes lit up at her attention, a slow grin spreading across his face as his gaze swept over her, "Defeat? Princess, I won that bet fair and square. You're the one who needs to prepare for culinary servitude."

"Culinary servitude?" Y/N laughed, the sound echoing through the alien twilight. "I don't remember agreeing to those terms."

"You didn't specify otherwise," he countered, voice dropping so low, it seemed to vibrate through her chest. His fingers brushed against her waist casually as they walked, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "And I distinctly remember someone promising dinner of my choice."

Ahead of them, Omni Mark glanced back, one eyebrow raised in silent question. Y/N gave him a reassuring smile, and something in his gaze softened before he turned his attention back to the path.

"Fine," Y/N conceded with mock exasperation. "But I'll need a sous chef. Those spicy things have tentacles, and I'm not handling those alone."

Mohawk's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Afraid of a little tentacle, princess? Didn't seem to bother you when Sinister spotted that lake creature."

"That was different," she protested. "It wasn't going to be my dinner."

"Fair point." Mohawk's hand brushed against hers, the touch seemingly accidental but lingering just long enough to send warmth spiraling up her arm, "I suppose I could be convinced to help. For a price."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "And what price would that be?"

His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before meeting her eyes again, hunger darkening his brown eyes, "I'll let you know when I decide."

The words hung between them, charged with promise as they continued toward the fortress that loomed against the backdrop of the now-rising moons.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

The fortress kitchen had quickly become one of Y/N's favorite places. Unlike the coldly efficient space they'd first discovered, it had transformed under their collective care—herbs from the nearby fields hung drying from rafters, colorful alien fruits filled stone bowls, and the massive hearth radiated welcoming warmth.

"You actually showed up," Mohawk remarked as Y/N entered, his lean frame silhouetted against the cooking fire. He'd changed from his swim attire into loose-fitting black pants that rode low on his hips and nothing else, leaving his broad chest bare. Droplets of water traced tantalizing paths down the defined muscles of his torso, disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants, while some water droplets still clung to the ends of his mohawk, suggesting a recent shower.

"I always keep my promises," Y/N replied, leaning against the doorframe. "Unlike someone who promised to help supervise."

"Oh, I'm supervising." The corner of his mouth quirked up as his eyes traveled slowly down her form. 

She'd also showered and changed, opting for a simple tunic-like garment in a soft fabric from her wardrobe. The lavender fabric clung to her curves in all the right places, the material thin enough that her body heat showed through, creating a silhouette that had Mohawk's full attention. 

"Supervising requires more than just standing there looking pretty," Y/N challenged, pushing away from the doorframe and approaching the large stone table where he'd already laid out several ingredients.

"Pretty?" Mohawk snorted, though a pink flush colored his cheeks. "Princess, I'm many things, but pretty isn't one of them."

"I disagree," Y/N replied with deliberate casualness as she examined the spread before her. The spicy tentacled fruits—which No-Mask had tentatively classified as some kind of land-dwelling mollusk/plant hybrid—were indeed present, alongside various herbs and what appeared to be the alien equivalent of root vegetables.

She could feel Mohawk's surprise at her compliment, his momentary silence heavier than any verbal response would have been. When he finally moved, coming to stand beside her at the table, the heat from his body was a boiling presence against her side.

"If you're angling to get out of cooking, flattery won't work," he said with a soft smirk, though his voice had lost some of its edge.

Y/N glanced up at him through her lashes. "Who says I'm angling for anything? Maybe I just like watching you blush."

The red on his cheeks deepened, spreading down his neck to the top of his chest. "I-I don't blush," he growled grumpily, though the evidence clearly contradicted his claim. "I'm physically incapable of it."

"Mmm, my mistake then," Y/N hummed, with a soft roll of her eyes, deliberately brushing against him as she reached for a knife. "Must be the lighting."

Mohawk caught her wrist before her fingers could close around the blade, his grip firm but gentle. "Careful with that," he murmured, his voice dropping to that rumbling register that seemed to reverberate through her bones. "These things are sharper than they look."

The double meaning wasn't lost on her—nor was the way his thumb brushed slowly across her pulse point, tracking its acceleration.

"I can handle sharp things," she countered, making no move to pull away from his touch.

"Can you?" His brown eyes held hers, challenge sparking between them. "Show me."

Y/N held his gaze as she slowly twisted her wrist in his grasp, not breaking free but repositioning until her palm pressed against his. "I'm not afraid of getting cut," she said softly.

Something dark and hungry flashed in Mohawk's brown eyes before he stepped back, releasing her with what seemed like reluctance. "Good to know," he replied, voice rougher than before. "Now about dinner—"

The kitchen door swung open, and Lensless bounded in, vibrating with his usual excess energy. "Hey! What are you guys making? Can I help? I'm really fast at chopping things! One time I diced an entire onion in 0.3 seconds but then I sneezed and it went everywhere and—"

"We're good," Mohawk interrupted, shooting Lensless a deadly glare.

Lensless's eyes darted between them, realization dawning on his face as he tugged on his shorts nervously. "Ohhhh, right, the bet! You two are doing dinner together! That's so cute! Like a date! Is it a date? Should I tell the others not to—"

"Lensless," Y/N interjected gently. "Would you mind letting the others know dinner might be a bit later than usual? We're experimenting with some new ingredients."

"Sure! No problem! Totally get it!" Lensless nodded so rapidly his features blurred. "Private cooking time! I'll make sure nobody bothers you! Except maybe Sinister because he never listens to me but I'll try my best!" With that, he ran out of the kitchen, leaving behind only a faint breeze and the lingering scent of fresh mint from his recent shower.

When the door swung shut behind him, Mohawk let out a breath that was half laugh, half groan, rolling his eyes dramatically. "That kid has the worst timing in any universe."

"Or the best," Y/N countered with a small smile. "Depends on your perspective."

Mohawk's gaze sharpened with interest, the firelight from the hearth casting golden shadows across his chiseled features. His eyes gleamed with unmistakable hunger as they traced the curve of her smile. "And what's your perspective, princess?"

Y/N picked up the knife he'd warned her about earlier, testing its weight in her hand, spinning it with surprising dexterity between her fingers, the metal catching the warm light as it twirled. "That depends on whether you're actually going to help me with dinner or just stand there looking intimidating."

"I can multitask," he replied, his voice dropping to that rumbling baritone that seemed to vibrate through the room as he moved closer until he stood directly behind her, his powerful body radiating heat like a furnace at her back. 

The solid wall of his chest pressed against her shoulder blades, his hips aligned with her backside perfectly, making it impossible to ignore the growing firmness there. "Show me what you want me to do."

Y/N swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of every point where their bodies connected, of how small the kitchen felt with his massive presence filling the space behind her. "You could start by chopping these," she suggested, gesturing to the tentacled fruits with a steadiness she didn't entirely feel.

Instead of moving away to comply, Mohawk reached around her, his chest pressing further against her back as his muscled arm brushed against hers, the unexpected contact sending goosebumps racing across her skin. He picked up a second knife. "Like this?" he asked, his lips mere inches from her ear, his hot breath fanning across her sensitive skin as he sliced through one of the purple fruits. The movement brought his stubbled jaw alongside hers, the rough texture grazing her temple in a touch that felt deliberately provocative.

"That works," she managed, suppressing a visible shiver as warmth bloomed in her cheeks and spread down her neck. She tried to focus on her own preparation despite the distracting heat of him surrounding her, but her body betrayed her with a slight tremor in her hands.

They worked like that for several minutes—Mohawk maintaining their close proximity even when the small kitchen offered plenty of space, finding excuses to reach around her for ingredients or utensils, each touch growing more deliberate with every pass. His large hands would graze her waist, fingers splaying to brush against her hips, occasionally dipping dangerously low before retreating, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Unable to resist the magnetic pull between them, Y/N leaned back into his solid frame. The movement pressed her curves firmly against the hard planes of his body, her backside connecting with the unmistakable evidence of his growing arousal. The contact drew a sharp intake of breath from him, his fingers momentarily tightening on the knife before he set it carefully aside.

"How's the supervision going?" she asked, her voice huskier than intended as she tilted her head to meet his gaze.

"Thoroughly," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear in a touch so feather-light it might have been accidental if not for the way his hands now settled possessively on her hips. "You're doing well. Better than I expected, considering."

Y/N turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze from mere inches away. "Considering what?"

"Considering how badly your hands are shaking," he observed, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth as his thumbs traced small circles on her hip bones. "Am I distracting you, princess?"

"You wish," she scoffed, though the breathless quality of her voice and the flush spreading across her cheeks told a different story.

His chuckle was a deep rumble she felt reverberating through her entire body, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched her reaction. "I do wish," he admitted, the unexpected honesty in his voice catching her off guard. "I wish a lot of things when it comes to you."

Y/N turned fully in his arms then, the cooking momentarily forgotten. "Like what?"

Mohawk's expression shifted, the perpetual smirk giving way to something more complex—hunger still, but tempered with an emotion that looked almost vulnerable on his usually hardened features. 

His hands settled on her waist, large enough to nearly span it completely as his thumb traced featherlight patterns against her abdomen through her shirt, the simple touch sending shivers racing up her spine.

"Like having you all to myself for more than five fucking minutes," he replied, his fingers skimmed along her sides. "Like finding out if you taste as sweet as you smell." His hands moved to her hips, gripping the needable flesh. "Like hearing the sounds you'd make if I touched you right."

Heat bloomed across Y/N's cheeks, spreading down her neck and across her chest until her skin felt too tight, too sensitive. Her pulse quickened under his intense gaze, her lips parting slightly as she drew in an unsteady breath.

"Pretty sure our dinner's burning," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the hearth fire, her eyes never leaving his.

"Let it," Mohawk growled, though he made no move to close the remaining distance between them. 

For all his brash words and bold touches, there was a hesitation in his eyes—a silent question, seeking permission despite the confident set of his shoulders.

It was that realization that made her decision. She reached up, threading her fingers through the shorter hair at the sides of his mohawk, feeling the surprising softness against her palms as she pulled his head down to hers, bringing his lips to hers with an urgency that surprised them both.

The kiss was nothing like their previous encounters—not the desperate clash during the war nor the playful peck at the kitchen and lake. This was something entirely new—slow, deliberate heat that built with every passing second. 

Mohawk's initial surprise quickly melted into something primal as his arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against him until not even air could pass between their bodies.

His lips overwhelmed hers, surprisingly soft and pliant despite his rough exterior, moving with a practiced confidence that made her knees weak. The contrast between his gentle mouth and the harsh stubble scraping her skin created a delicious friction that made her groan.

When his tongue swept against the seam of her lips, Y/N gasped softly, the small sound swallowed by his mouth as she opened to him without hesitation, surrendering to the intoxicating slide of his tongue against hers. The taste of him—spicy and masculine with hints of something unexpectedly sweet—flooded her senses as she clutched at his shoulders for support. His hands slid down to cup her backside, lifting her slightly to better align their bodies, the hard ridge of his manhood pressing insistently against her stomach, hot even through layers of clothing.

"Fuck," he breathed against her mouth when they finally broke for air, his chest heaving as though he'd run miles rather than just kissed her. "Been wanting to do that properly since the lake."

"Just since the lake?" Y/N teased, delighting in the way his pupils expanded until only a thin ring of brown remained.

"Since I first saw you," he admitted, voice rough with an honesty that seemed to surprise even him. "Standing there in the middle of that battlefield like some kind of avenging angel. Wanted you even then."

The confession sent electricity racing down her spine. This wasn't just attraction or convenience—this was something that had been building since their very first encounter, something that transcended universes.

"Show me," she challenged, going up on her tippy toes to nip gently at his lower lip, drawing a hiss from deep in his throat. "Show me how much you want me."

Something dangerous and thrilling flashed across Mohawk's face—a predatory hunger that should have frightened her but instead sent liquid heat pooling low in her abdomen. In one fluid motion, he lifted her off her feet and deposited her on the edge of the stone table, his movements so swift and effortless that she barely had time to gasp before finding herself seated, several abandoned cooking implements clattering to the floor.

"Careful what you ask for, princess," he warned, his voice dropping low that seemed designed to make her core clench with anticipation. His hands bracketed her hips, holding her in place as he stepped between her parted knees. "I'm not known for my restraint."

Y/N reached for him, her fingers trailing over the impressive expanse of his chest, exploring the ridges and valleys of hard muscle beneath warm skin. The dense mat of hair covering his torso was surprisingly soft against her palms, tickling her fingertips as she explored the ridges of muscle beneath—so different from Omni's smoother torso or Viltrumite's leaner build. "Maybe I don't want restraint," she whispered.

Mohawk half growled, half groaned as he captured her mouth again. The kiss deeper and hungrier than before, his tongue claiming her mouth with possessive strokes, making her whimper against his lips. His hands were all over her—roaming her body with barely contained urgency—sliding up her thighs beneath the tunic, tangling in her hair, cupping her face with surprising tenderness before drifting lower to trace the curve of her breast through the thin fabric.

When his thumb brushed across her nipple, the sudden jolt of pleasure made Y/N gasp into his mouth, her back arching involuntarily as the sensitive peak hardened beneath his touch. Mohawk broke the kiss to watch her reaction, his eyes hooded, focused on her face with an almost scientific interest as he repeated the motion more deliberately.

"Sensitive," he observed, a smug satisfaction coloring his voice as he circled the hardened peak with deliberate strokes. "Wonder if you're this responsive everywhere?"

Before Y/N could formulate a response, he was tugging the tunic upward, his intentions unmistakable as his large hands bunched the fabric at her waist. She raised her arms, allowing him to pull the garment over her head and discard it somewhere behind him. The cool air of the kitchen raised goosebumps across her newly exposed skin, her nipples tightening further under the combination of cold air and Mohawk's burning gaze.

"Fucking perfect," he breathed, his voice filled with such raw appreciation that any self-consciousness she might have felt vanished instantly. His large hands came up to cup her breasts, the gentle weight of them filling his palms as his thumbs traced teasing circles around her areolas, deliberately avoiding the sensitive peaks that ached for his touch. "Even better than I imagined, and believe me, princess—I've imagined plenty."

Y/N felt exposed under his intense scrutiny if not for the unabashed admiration written across his features, the way his eyes darkened with each passing moment as they roved over her naked torso. His thumbs finally brushed across her nipples with teasing pressure, drawing a soft sound from deep in her throat as pleasure radiated from her nipples.

"You're staring," she murmured, unable to hide the tremor in her voice as another wave of sensation washed through her, heat flooding her cheeks.

"Damn right I am," he replied without a hint of apology, his gaze traveled over her form. "Been wanting to see you like this since day one." He leaned down, replacing one thumb with his mouth, the sudden contrast between the cool air and the wet heat of his tongue drawing a shocked gasp from her lips as she arched, eyes widening at the sensation. "Been wanting to taste you everywhere."

Y/N's head fell back on a gasp, exposing the column of her throat as pleasure coursed through her veins like liquid fire. One hand came up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through his mohawk as she held him against her breast, while the other gripped his shoulder for support. The soft scrape of his stubble against her sensitive skin created a delicious contrast to the wet heat of his mouth, each gentle bite followed by a soothing lap of his tongue that had her squirming against him, seeking more contact.

He gave one hard bite on her right breast, the sharp sting of pain quickly melting into pleasure as he soothed the mark with his tongue. Pulling back, he smirked and admired his work���she was transformed under his touch, chest heaving with rapid breaths, skin flushed pink with arousal, and eyes half-lidded with desire. Her breasts were flushed red and her nipples were visibly swollen from his attention.

"Still think dinner's the priority?" he asked, voice rough with desire as he smirked.

Unable to form coherent words, Y/N hooked her legs around his waist, strong thighs pressing against his hips as she pulled him closer to the edge of the table where she sat. The movement brought the hard ridge of his bulge directly against her core, drawing a hiss from both of them despite the barriers of clothing still between them.

"I think," she replied, deliberately rocking against him in a slow, teasing motion that had his hands tightening on her thighs, "that I'm more interested in dessert right now."

A wicked grin spread across Mohawk's face, transforming his features with boyish delight despite the hunger in his eyes. "Always knew you had good taste, princess." His hands slid beneath her thighs, gripping the firm muscle there as he adjusted her position slightly before grinding against her with deliberate pressure. The hard length of him manhood pressed perfectly against her core, sending jolts of electricity up her spine that had her gasping. "How long have you been thinking about this? About us?"

The unexpected vulnerability in his question caught Y/N off guard—beneath the confident exterior and bold touches, there was an uncertainty she hadn't anticipated. She cupped his face between her palms, thumbs brushing across the stubble on his cheeks as she forced him to meet her gaze directly.

"Since you kissed me during the war," she admitted honestly. "Maybe even before that. When you looked at me like I was the answer to a question you'd been asking your whole life."

Something raw and unguarded flickered in his eyes, a flash of emotion so intense it almost hurt to witness before he buried it beneath desire once more. He captured her mouth again, the kiss surprisingly gentle despite the tension evident in every corded muscle of his body, his lips moving against hers with a tenderness that belied his usual brashness. "Never thought I'd get another chance," he murmured against her lips. "After my Y/N died, I didn't think—" He broke off, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

Y/N ran her fingers through his mohawk, the gesture soothing as she held him close, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her chest. She traced the soft skin at the nape of his neck, feeling the strong tendons there as he shuddered against her. "I'm here now," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

Mohawk lifted his head, his expression so nakedly hopeful it made her heart ache for all he'd lost, for the pain he carried beneath his cavalier exterior. "Promise?"

"Promise," she confirmed, sealing the vow with a kiss that started gentle but quickly blazed into something more.

That single word seemed to break something loose in him—the last threads of his self-control snapping as he claimed her mouth with renewed hunger. His tongue invaded her mouth, exploring and claiming as his hands roamed her body with increasing urgency. A low growl rumbled in his chest as she whimpered against him. His hands were everywhere at once—tracing the curve of her waist, palming her breasts, sliding down to grip her hips with bruising intensity as he ground against her.

"Need you," he growled against her mouth. "Feel how much I fucking need you," he added, guiding her hand downward to press against the prominent bulge straining against his pants. The heat of him seared through the fabric, impossibly hard yet somehow silky beneath her palm as she traced his length, drawing a sharp hiss from between his clenched teeth. "Wanted this for so fucking long."

"Then take me," Y/N challenged, deliberately dragging her teeth across his lower lip as she bit down gently. The sharp sting of her teeth had him hissing, his hips bucking involuntarily against her core. "Unless you're all talk, Mohawk~?"

His eyes narrowed, pupils dilating until they nearly swallowed the brown of his irises. "Oh, princess," he purred, the dangerous softness in his voice sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. "You're gonna feel exactly how much I can back up my talk. You're gonna regret that challenge."

In one fluid motion, he lifted her off the table entirely, his hands gripping the undersides of her thighs as her legs automatically wrapped around his waist. The powerful muscles of his arms flexed beneath her grip, his strength effortlessly supporting her weight as if she were nothing. He carried her across the kitchen with confident strides, never breaking eye contact as anticipation built between them. Her back met the cool stone wall beside the hearth, the contrast with Mohawk's burning skin pulling a gasp from her lips.

"Right here?" she asked breathlessly, excitement fluttering in her stomach at the thought of being taken against the wall, their passion too urgent to make it to a bedroom.

"Right here," he confirmed, his grin wolfish in the dancing firelight, shadows accentuating the sharp angles of his face. "Want to watch you come undone against this wall," he growled, rolling his hips against her in a slow, deliberate motion that had her biting her lip to hold back a moan. "Unless you'd prefer somewhere more comfortable?"

Y/N considered for a moment—the private sanctuary of her chambers, perhaps, or even one of the many unused rooms throughout the fortress. But there was something intoxicating about the urgency of this moment, about Mohawk's barely contained desire and the heat of the kitchen fire painting his powerful body in gold and shadow.

"Here is perfect," she decided, tightening her legs around his waist. The adjustment brought his hardness directly against her aching vagina, making her groan and dig her nails into the muscles of his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin.

Mohawk's smile turned predatory, his eyes darkening to nearly black as he gazed down at her. "Good choice." His hands slid to the waistband of her leggings, fingers dipping just beneath the fabric. Tracing teasing circles on her lower belly, making her muscles jump beneath his touch. "These need to go."

Y/N nodded her agreement, her breath catching in her throat as anticipation coiled tight in her stomach. Her lips, swollen from his kisses, parted on a silent gasp as his fingertips dipped lower with torturous slowness. She unwound her legs from his waist just long enough for him to tug the garment down, leaving her in just the damp panties that clung to her mound. She kicked the leggings aside, now feeling the rough fabric of his pants against her nearly bare lower half, the friction drawing a whimper from her throat. The contrast between the cool air and his burning skin against her exposed thighs made her shiver, her body unconsciously arching toward his heat.

"Look at you," Mohawk breathed, taking a half-step back to admire her near-naked form. His gaze felt like a physical caress, raking over her body with such intensity that heat bloomed everywhere his eyes lingered. His expression held such raw hunger it made her breath hitch, yet beneath the desire was something deeper—a reverence that made her heart flutter wildly against her ribs. He seemed to memorize every curve, every freckle, every scar. "Fucking perfect."

Y/N felt a moment of self-consciousness as his gaze fell to the dark curls visible through her damp underwear. A flush spread from her cheeks down her neck to her chest, her skin turning a delicate rose that made her nipples stand out even more prominently against her flushed skin.

She realized this was her first time being so exposed in the light. With Sinister in the cave, darkness had hidden her body's natural state, but here in the kitchen's warm glow, nothing was concealed. The vulnerability of being seen—truly seen—by him sent a conflicting wave of anxiety and arousal through her core. She resisted the urge to cover herself, uncertain about her body hair after years in the sterile GDA environment.

Mohawk must have sensed her hesitation, because his eyes grew gentle for a heartbeat, the rare tenderness there making her chest tighten with emotion. "Every inch of you," he murmured, sliding his hands up her thighs with reverent slowness. His large palms covered so much territory, the strength in them carefully controlled as they kneaded the soft flesh beneath. His thumbs traced the edges of her underwear, teasing the sensitive skin there. 

"Perfect." He leaned closer, his gaze dropping to the damp fabric clinging to her mound. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Though it looks like the forest floor got a little… overgrown. Don't worry, princess," he chuckled softly, his voice a low rumble against her ear, the warm puff of his breath sending shivers racing down her spine as he nipped playfully at her earlobe, "I've always enjoyed a bit of exploring in the wilderness."

Y/N's embarrassment vanished, replaced by a burst of unexpected laughter that bubbled from her throat. She playfully kicked at his groin, her foot connecting just firmly enough to draw a surprised groan from him that was part pain, part arousal. His eyes widened momentarily before narrowing with dangerous delight.

"Save that feisty business for the main course, princess," he growled, capturing her ankle in his hand before it could retreat. His thumb traced the delicate bones there, pressing into the arch of her foot in a way that made her toes curl with unexpected pleasure as a laugh rumbled in his chest, the sound warming her from the inside out.

"Your turn," she insisted, reaching for the drawstring of his pants, her confidence returning at his genuine admiration. Her fingers brushed against the hard planes of his lower abdomen, feeling the muscles there contract sharply at her touch.

Mohawk caught her wrists, pressing them gently back against the wall above her head. His grip was firm but careful, large enough that his fingers completely encircled her wrists with room to spare. The tiny wince that crossed her features didn't escape his notice, and he immediately adjusted, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against her pulse points, the surprising tenderness at odds with the hunger in his eyes. 

The position made her feel wonderfully vulnerable, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

"Not yet," he growled, leaning in to nip at the sensitive spot below her ear. The sharp edge of his teeth followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue had her arching against him, a breathy moan escaping her lips. Her body responded instinctively to his touch, straining toward him even as he held her firmly in place. "Been dreaming about tasting you first."

Without releasing her wrists, Mohawk shifted his stance, lowering himself slightly while still keeping her pinned to the wall. The movement showcased the raw power in his thighs as he bent his knees, his free hand sliding between her legs with practiced ease.

His fingers traced up her inner thigh with feather-light touches that left goosebumps in their wake, each caress drawing closer to where she ached for him most. The muscles in her thighs quivered beneath his touch, anticipation making her breath come in short, desperate gasps.

"Been thinking about this since the first time I kissed you," he murmured, his voice husky with desire as his lips traced a burning path along her collarbone.

The rasp of his stubble against her sensitive skin created a delicious contrast to the wetness of his open-mouthed kisses. "The sounds you'd make. How you'd taste on my tongue."

Y/N's head fell back against the wall, surrendering to the sensations as his fingers finally hooked into the waistband of her underwear. He released her wrists to slide the soaked fabric down her legs, his movements deliberately slow as though savoring each new inch of skin revealed.

His eyes never left her body, drinking in every detail like a man dying of thirst. She stepped out of them on trembling legs, now completely bare from the waist down, feeling utterly exposed yet strangely powerful under his hungry gaze.

Mohawk tossed her underwear aside, his eyes darkening to almost black as he took in the sight of her completely bare before him. The raw desire in his expression was unmistakable, his breathing growing heavier as he drank in the view of her glistening folds, already slick with arousal.

"Mark," she whispered, one hand coming down to tangle in his hair. The softness of his mohawk surprised her, the shorter sides velvety against her palm.

He glanced up at her from his slightly lowered position, the firelight catching the hunger in his eyes, turning them to molten amber. "Say it again," he urged, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh, dangerously close to her wetness. His tongue darted out to taste the sensitive crease where thigh met her core, making her gasp and tighten her grip on his mohawk. "Want to hear it from your lips when you come apart."

It took Y/N a moment to realize what he meant—not the nickname they all used, but his true name, the one he shared with all the variants despite their divergent paths. "Mark," she whispered again, the sound breathy with want.

The effect was electric. A visible shudder ran through his powerful frame, his hands tightening momentarily on her thighs before he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her fully to his gaze. He looked up at her once more, his expression a mixture of hunger and something almost like neediness, before he leaned forward.

The first broad stroke of his tongue drew a cry from her lips, her fingers tightening reflexively in his hair. The wet heat of his mouth against her folds was unlike anything she'd experienced before, his skilled movements somehow both gentle and demanding at once. Mohawk—Mark—groaned against her in response, the vibration adding another layer of sensation that had her trembling against the wall.

"So fucking responsive," he murmured, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh. He parted her lower lips with his fingers, revealing her swollen bud to his eager mouth. "Can't wait to devour this sweet pussy," he growled before sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking with deliberate pressure.

Y/N cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily against his face as pleasure shot through her like lightning. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him against her as he feasted upon her clit like a starved man, determined to taste every drop of her essence, his tongue swirling and flicking against her with expert precision, as if memorizing what made her gasp and moan the loudest.

Within moments, he had her writhing against him, her thighs trembling and clenching around his head as he suckled and licked her relentlessly.

"That's it, princess," he murmured against her heated flesh, his voice vibrating against her clit, "Let me hear how good it feels."

​​Any embarrassment Y/N might have felt at her wet, guttural moans was obliterated by the masterful, filthy work of his tongue—alternating between long, slick strokes that stretched every nerve ending in her cunt and focused, greedy attention on the throbbing bud that had her vision swimming with stars.

Her thighs trembled uncontrollably around his head, slick with her own juices, her fingers alternately clenching and releasing in his hair as wave after wave of pure, raw pleasure slammed through her.

He traced intricate, maddening patterns against her swollen clit, each lick and swirl building upon the last until she was a quivering, whimpering mess plastered against the cold stone, her pussy practically begging for more.

When one thick, calloused finger circled her slick entrance, spreading her dripping lips wide before pressing deliberately inside, a strangled cry tore from her throat, her wet hole already aching for his cock.

"So responsive," Mohawk praised, his voice rough with lust as he looked up at her from between her slick thighs, her juices glistening on his lips and chin like a badge of honor. He slid a second thick finger alongside the first, stretching her wet slit wide as his mouth continued its relentless, greedy assault on her swollen clit.

His thick digits scissored and curled upward, deep within her slick canal, finding that sweet spot that made her vision blur and her legs tremble uncontrollably, her inner walls squeezing him tight. "So fucking perfect for me~"

The combination of his masterful mouth devouring her pussy and the slick, rhythmic invasion of his thick fingers deep inside her wet cunt instantly sent Y/N spiraling toward the precipice. Her breath hitched in short, desperate gasps, her lungs burning as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her core, a screaming knot of sensation demanding release.

Her back arched violently away from the cold stone, her head thrashing back against it as the pressure built to an unbearable crescendo, her inner walls clenching rhythmically, desperately milking his fingers as her shattering climax loomed. "Mark," she choked out, tugging urgently at his hair, a primal warning. "I'm close—I'm going to cum—"

"That's it," he encouraged, his eyes dark with lust as he watched her face contort in the throes of her impending orgasm, his thick fingers curling deep inside her slick cunt, hitting that precise spot that made her vision swim and her body buck.

"Let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers, wanna taste every last drop of your sweet cum." His voice was a rough, panting growl, the filthy words themselves. "Come for me, princess. Wanna feel you fucking shatter on my tongue," he urged against her wet lips, his breath hot and ragged. "Paint my fucking face with your delicious cum."

His filthy words, combined with a particularly clever flick of his tongue against her swollen clit, sent her hurtling over the edge, volcanic waves of pure sensation washing through her with such overwhelming intensity that her knees threatened to buckle had his grip on her hip not been her only anchor.

Her entire body tensed, every muscle clenching before releasing in shuddering spasms, waves of pure pleasure radiating outward from her core.

“M-mark~!” She cried out his name, a raw, primal sound of utter release, as her hips bucked uncontrollably against his face, her juicy cunt spasming around his eager mouth as he relentlessly licked and suckled her sensitive nub, greedily slurping up every drop of her sweet nectar that squirted out in thick, pulsing streams.

When he finally pulled back, his whole lower face glistened with the pearly evidence of her explosive orgasm, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

He licked his lips slowly, deliberately savoring her unique taste like a prized treat, a low, hum rumbling in his chest that sent a shiver of renewed longing through her still-quivering body. "Even sweeter than I ever fucking imagined," he growled, pressing one last, lingering kiss to her swollen clit before rising to his full height.

Mohawk stood up slowly, his hard body pressing intimately against hers as Y/N reached for him, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled his face down to hers. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging deep into her mouth, letting her taste her own slickness mingled with his raw hunger.

One large hand slid up her side, cupping the swollen weight of her breast, his thumb kneading the ultrasensitive flesh as he devoured her mouth. He could feel her nipples hardening instantly against his palm, and he pinched and rolled the already erect peaks between his fingers, eliciting a soft moan against his lips.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in ragged gasps as they both tried to catch their breath, "Fuck, that was incredible," he murmured, his voice low and rough, a possessive glint in his heated gaze. "Love yo-mngh, princess.” Y/N giggled, licking his slobbery saliva off her lips, the taste of their mingled juices igniting a fresh wave of heat in her belly. Her hands, slid down his sweat-slicked chest, her fingers already fumbling with the drawstring of his pants like a mischievous little imp.

This time, Mohawk didn't stop her. His breathing quickened visibly, chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched with heavy-lidded eyes as she eagerly untied the drawstring, pushing the thick fabric down over his powerful thighs. A dark, enticing happy trail of hair led down from his navel to the dense, dark bush that framed his impressive groin.

His magnificent manhood sprang free, a solid eight and a half inches of thick, heavy flesh corded with prominent veins that pulsed with his potent arousal. The sensitive tip was flushed a deep pink and glistened with a generous amount of pre-cum, a slick, eager sheen that had been steadily leaking in anticipation of her touch, like a drooling puppy waiting for a treat. Below, his heavy balls swung low, full and weighty, practically begging for her attention.

"See something you like, you little tease?" he asked, voice rough with desire despite the playful words. A flush had spread across his cheeks.

Y/N smirked, her eyes sparkling with naughty delight as she wrapped her hand around his thick shaft in answer, reveling in the solid weight and radiating heat of him against her palm. Her fingers barely spanned his impressive girth, making her chuckle softly. He moaned softly into her ear, his eyes fluttering briefly closed at her touch. The hard length of him throbbed insistently against her palm, hot and heavy and somehow both impossibly hard and surprisingly velvety soft at once. 

Mohawk's eyes darkened with raw lust as she stroked his aching length, a low, guttural groan rumbling in his chest at her caress. He could feel every delicate curve of her soft hand wrapped around him. The sensation of her thumb spreading his slick pre-cum down his veined shaft sent electric sparks of pure pleasure shooting through his body, his hips rocking slightly, involuntarily, into her teasing touch. 

"Definitely," she replied, stroking him slowly from the thick base to the sensitive, glistening tip. She collected the abundant moisture at his flushed pink head with her thumb, spreading it down his corded shaft as she continued her slow, deliberate, and utterly wicked exploration. "Though I'm not entirely convinced all of this is going to fit... comfortably."

Mohawk's laugh was strained, his abdominal muscles rippling as he struggled to maintain control, his hips jerking slightly into her caressing touch. "Fuck, princess," he groaned, his hips jerking slightly into her hand. "Keep that up and this'll be over before it starts, and I've got a whole night planned to properly worship that sweet pussy of yours." His hands moved to her waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring himself. "We'll make it work," he promised, capturing her mouth in another hungry kiss. "Always do. One way or another, you're going to take every inch of me." 

Mohawk broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her with a possessive hunger blazing in his eyes. He captured her mouth in another searing kiss, his tongue plunging deep as he ground his hard cock against her slick folds.

He could feel the heat radiating from her soaked vulva, her inner lips glistening and already slick with her own release from where he'd pleasured her earlier, droplets of her cum tracing wet, inviting paths down her thighs. 

"Wrap your legs around me, princess," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "I'm going to fuck you against this wall until you scream." He lifted her again, this time with her full cooperation, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed her back against the wall.

The muscles in his arms bulged with the effort, veins standing out prominently beneath his skin. The new position brought the hot, blunt head of his arousal directly against her entrance, the slight pressure there making her gasp in anticipation. The head nudged against her outer lips, hot and insistent but not yet breaching, teasing her. 

"Now… just making sure, are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. A fine sheen of sweat covered his chest, his muscles trembling with the effort of restraint. 

"We can stop—" Y/N silenced him with a deep kiss, her hands framing his face, thumbs stroking over his rough cheekbones. Then, with deliberate slowness, she began to rock her hips forward, nudging herself against the slick, leaking tip of his cock.

A low moan escaped Mohawk's throat, his powerful body shuddering against hers. He was forced to break the kiss, a glistening strand of saliva connecting their parted lips as he looked down at her, his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body straining with the effort of holding back from simply pounding into her. 

Her movements coated him in her abundant arousal before she finally notched his swollen head at her entrance. The stretch was delicious, her body already slick and ready from his earlier attention. "I've never been more sure of anything," she assured him, hands cradling his face as she stared directly into his eyes. "I want you, Mark. All of you." 

Something vulnerable flashed across his features —a fleeting moment of pure, unguarded emotion that made her heart constrict in her chest—before he nodded, one hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingertips surprisingly gentle against her skin. 

"Hold onto me," he instructed, his voice thick with suppressed desire, waiting until her arms were securely wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling in the short, rough strands of his mohawk, before he began to slowly push his hips upward. The initial stretch was intense but not painful, Mohawk's earlier attentions having prepared her body. 

A strangled sound, a mixture of anticipation and slight discomfort, escaped her throat as he filled her inch by exquisite inch, the sensation of such fullness felt both foreign and perfectly right. 

He entered her with agonizing slowness, giving her body time to adjust to his considerable size, his breath coming in harsh, ragged pants against her neck as he fought a visible battle for control, his muscles trembling with the effort of restraint. Mohawk's eyes fluttered shut, his lips pressed into a thin line as he savored the sensation of her tight, slick heat enveloping his cock, her inner walls clenching and fluttering around his throbbing length like a silken vise. 

He could feel every delicate ridge and curve of her canal molding itself around him, could feel the subtle way her body stretched and yielded to accommodate his considerable size. It was a torturously delicious sensation, one that had him gritting his teeth, every nerve ending screaming for release, as he fought to maintain his measured pace. 

"Fuck," he groaned when he was finally seated to the hilt, their bodies connected as intimately as possible. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his entire body trembling with the effort of remaining still. He remained perfectly motionless for a long moment, allowing her canal to fully accommodate his large size, his forehead dropping to rest against hers as he savored the feeling of her tight, wet heat gripping him like a vise. "So fucking tight and perfect, like your cunt was made just for my cock."

Y/N could only nod, overwhelmed by the fullness, by the heat of him stretching her from within. Her walls fluttered around him, adjusting to his presence. When he began to move, drawing out slowly until just the tip remained inside her before carefully pushing back in, she gasped at the exquisite friction, at the way he seemed to find and ignite every sensitive nerve ending within her. 

The wet, slick sounds of their joining filled the small space as he withdrew almost completely, the head of his engorged penis teasing her again and again. Opening before he slammed back in, burying himself to the hilt. Sharp crys tore from Y/N's throat, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to pound into her willing body with a hard, fast pace that stole her breath.

"Mark," she breathed, the name falling from her lips like a prayer, her head thrown back against the cold stone wall as he took her. Each powerful thrust sent sparks of raw ecstasy through her, her body bouncing against the unyielding surface with the force of his movements. She could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock dragging along her sensitive inner walls, stretching her in the most delicious way, filling her completely with a sensation so profound it bordered on overwhelming. 

"Mine," he growled, the word rumbling from deep in his chest as his hips snapped forward with renewed purpose, his powerful frame caging her against the unyielding wall. His teeth grazed her shoulder, marking her with a sharp bite. His hands gripped her ass roughly, squeezing the firm flesh as he fucked her harder against the cold stone.

He leaned in, his mouth latching onto one of her nipples, sucking hard as he rammed his thick cock deeper, hitting that exquisite G-spot that sent blinding bursts of light behind her eyelids. "Say it again," he demanded, punctuating the words with a particularly deep thrust that made her vision swim.

"Mark," she repeated, gasping as he increased his pace, one large hand sliding beneath her to adjust the angle for even deeper penetration. His rhythm grew urgent, each powerful thrust driving her closer to the shattering edge.

The new angle allowed his thick member to strike that precise point within her cunt, sending jolts of pure electricity through her trembling body. Her nails raked down his sweat-slicked back, leaving fiery trails in their wake as his thick length plunged even deeper into her tight canal, dragging against those hidden nerves that ignited a fresh wave of intense, almost unbearable pleasure. "Oh god, Mark!"

"Fuck, princess," he groaned, his voice tight with strain and barely restrained desire. "You're so fucking perfect, so tight and hot around my cock. I can feel your pussy squeezing me, milking my fucking dick." The wet slap of skin against skin punctuated his words, the sodden squelch of her intense arousal a visceral soundtrack to his deep thrusts.

His rhythm grew urgent, demanding. Each fuck was a raw, powerful claim, driving him deeper. Sweat slicked his sculpted chest, catching the firelight as the defined muscles bunched and flexed with each forceful movement. His gaze locked on her face, devouring every raw flicker of pleasure that contorted her features.

The sounds of their sex filled the kitchen—the wet smack of their bodies colliding, her sharp, escalating moans, his guttural growls of raw satisfaction as her inner walls clenched convulsively around his invading member.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated deep within her. "Take what you need from me. Use my cock to make yourself feel good. I want to feel you come apart on my dick, want to watch you fucking shatter!" His crude words, thick with a raw, sent a searing jolt of pure sensation flooding her core, her cunt clenching down around him.

Sweat dripped down Mohawk's chiseled chest and abs, highlighting every ridge and valley of muscle as they flexed and bunched with each powerful thrust. The tendons in his neck stood out, corded and taut as he fought to maintain control, his jaw clenched tight as he watched her with a wild, almost feral intensity. Every flicker of pleasure that crossed her face, every breathless moan and gasp that fell from her lips seemed to spur him on, driving him to take her harder, faster, deeper.

Y/N was beyond coherent thought, her body arching instinctively with each brutal thrust, her skin flushed and slick with a sheen of sweat that made her practically glow in the dim light. Her head was thrown back against the unyielding wall, exposing the vulnerable column of her throat which he immediately attacked with hot lips and sharp teeth, lost in the escalating pleasure as Mohawk fucked her with increasingly violent force. 

The dual assault of his mouth at her throat and his thick cock pounding deep within her overwhelmed her senses, pleasure building in relentless, shattering waves. Mohawk's hand snaked between their sweat-slicked bodies, his calloused fingers finding her aching, swollen clit with unerring accuracy.

He circled the sensitive bundle of nerves with a pressure and speed that had her seeing stars, her back arching clean off the wall as a scream tore from her throat a second, involuntary orgasm seizing her with shocking intensity.

"That's it," he growled against her throat, his voice hoarse with raw desire as he felt her body begin to convulse around him. "Let go for me, my love. Want to feel you come apart around my cock."

Mohawk growled his approval as her pussy pulsed around him, the rhythmic contractions of her internal muscles drawing a strangled groan from deep within his chest. The sound was primal, deeply satisfied, as his fingers continued their relentless torment on her sensitive nub even as she shuddered and squeezed around his length, drawing out her pleasure until tears stung the corners of her eyes.

Her vision blurred as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed through her, each one more intense than the last as his skilled fingers refused to relent. 

His thrusting faltered briefly before becoming almost punishing in its precision. "Aggh~ p-perfect," he gasped against her throat. "So fucking tight when y-you come, squeezing my cock like you never want to let go, you love me so much, dont ya baby-? Fuc-k Nnnhg~"

His breath came in harsh pants against her skin, his powerful body trembling with the effort of prolonging her exquisite torment before seeking his own explosive release. His words were crude but reverent, awe evident in every syllable. "So fucking perfect for me."

His thrusts grew erratic, his breathing harsh against her neck as he chased his own imminent climax. The powerful muscles of his back bunched and flexed beneath her slick hands, sweat making his skin even more slippery as he fucked her with increasing urgency, his thick length dragging against her G-spot with each desperate plunge. "Y/N nngh~!" he groaned, the sound of her name torn from his throat with a moan, "Need you, my heart~! Mmm-ahh a-always needed you."

"I'm h-here," she promised, cradling his sweat-slicked face between her trembling palms, forcing him to meet her glazed eyes as his control finally shattered. His eyes were wild with pure, unadulterated pleasure and something deeper, something akin to worship as he stared down at her. "Mppf~! I'm r-right here mark!"

Something breaks in his expression at her words—the last vestiges of his control shattering as he buries his thick cock to the hilt with a hoarse, guttural shout of her name. His entire body shudders violently as he pulses deep within her cunt, the hot, thick rush of his cum triggering an earth-shattering aftershock of pleasure that has her screaming his name.

He roars, his body convulsing above her as he empties his seed into her dripping pussy, each powerful jet painting her insides slick and white with his cum. The raw sensation of him coming undone, his powerful frame shaking with the force of his climax.

Y/n can't help it, she screams his name as she comes, her body convulsing almost violently beneath him in a mind-blowing orgasm. Wave after wave of pure, undiluted ecstasy washes over her, her vision going white as she clings to him, riding out the intense pleasure radiating from her core. She can feel his swollen member still throbbing deep inside her, prolonging her exquisite torment as he continues to flood her tight little hole with his seed, making a wet and sticky mess.

For long moments afterward, they remain locked together, Mohawk's forehead resting against hers as they both fight to draw ragged breaths. His heart hammers against her chest, his powerful arms trembling slightly as they hold her pinned against the wall.

When he finally eases her down, her legs shaking uncontrollably as they take her weight again, she can feel the thick, sticky mixture of their juices beginning to ooze from her slick, fucked pussy, a warm, undeniable testament to their explosive union, leaving a glistening trail down her thighs. 

As he slowly withdraws his cock from her soaked cunt, sliding out with a wet, sighing sound, coated in the glistening blend of their mingled fluids; a thick, viscous string connecting them for a fleeting moment before parting, leaving her feeling deliciously empty and thoroughly used. He keeps her close within the circle of his possessive embrace, his eyes dark with love and satisfaction.

"F-fuck…That was..." he begins, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

"Worth the wait?" Y/N suggests, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Mohawk's answering smile is softer than any expression she's shown him before. He traces her lower lip with his thumb, his touch gentle.

"Worth everything," he corrects, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to her forehead. "Worth every goddamn minute of waiting. Fucking incredible." He brushes a sweat-dampened strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek.

He cups her face, his thumb brushing over her plump bottom lip. "Don't think I've ever come that hard in my life," he admits, his voice low and rough, still tinged with the remnants of his intense climax. "The way you came apart in my arms...fuck, it was beautiful. You're beautiful…god I love you, you sticky little mess." The tenderness in his voice, so at odds with his typically brash demeanor, makes something warm bloom in Y/N's chest. She leans into him, savoring the solid strength of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her ear.

"We should probably actually make dinner at some point," she mused after a comfortable silence, reluctant to break the moment but aware that the others would be wondering about their absence.

Mohawk chuckled, the sound rumbling pleasantly through his chest where her head rested. "Probably," he agreed, making no move to release her. Instead, his hand came up to stroke through her hair with surprising gentleness.

His fingers worked through the tangles their activities had created, massaging her scalp in a way that had her practically purring against him. "Though I can think of better ways to work up an appetite. Involving more licking, more fucking, and definitely less cooking."

Y/N tilted her head back to meet his gaze, finding his eyes warm with a mixture of satisfaction and renewed interest, a definite glint of mischief sparking within them. "Is that so?"

"Mmm," he confirmed, bending to brush his lips against hers in a kiss far more tender than she would have expected from him. His tongue traced the seam of her lips without demanding entry, "But maybe somewhere more comfortable this time? My knees aren't what they used to be, princess. Especially after all that kneeling I did to properly worship your sweet pussy."

Y/N laughed, the sound bright and genuine in the warm kitchen air.

"Your chambers or mine?" she asked, delighting in the way his eyes darkened with possessive hunger at the suggestion.

"Mine," he growled possessively, his hand sliding down to squeeze her backside, his thumb digging playfully into the curve of her ass.

"My bed's bigger, and I want plenty of room to spread you out and take my time with you properly. Lick you until you're screaming my name again, princess. And then fuck you every which way until neither of us can see straight." He was already reaching for her discarded clothing. "Because princess, I'm nowhere near done with you yet. Not by a long shot. I've got a whole list of dirty things I still want to do to that tight little cunt of yours."

As they hastily dressed, her legs felt like jelly, completely unwilling to support her weight – Mohawk chuckled, scooping her up into his arms with effortless ease. He carried her from the kitchen, the half-prepared dinner forgotten behind them, a possessive gleam in his eyes as he headed towards his chambers. 

Y/N couldn't help but think that some bets were worth losing—especially when the payoff was so unexpectedly perfect, and promised so much more to come.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ 

Hours later, when Mohawk finally carried Y/N from his chambers—disheveled and glowing with utter satisfaction, love bites a blatant roadmap of his desire across her neck and whole body, while his bad was littered with raw scratches, a testament to her own passionate grip—they found the common area suspiciously empty save for a platter of neatly arranged food and a note in No-Mask's precise handwriting:

"Since dinner preparations were evidently... thoroughly interrupted, we took the liberty of preparing an alternative meal. Lensless insisted we leave enough for two. Enjoy (and maybe hose down the kitchen floor later?)."

Below that, in a different, more flamboyant script that could only belong to Sinister:

"Do try to keep the noise down next time, dove. Some of us are trying to sleep. Though the walls were certainly vibrating with a new level of... intensity. But let's be honest, we all know who first taught you how to truly scream, don’t we dove~?"

And finally, a hastily scrawled addition in what appeared to be Omni Mark's controlled handwriting:

"Take your time. You've both earned it."

Mohawk read the note over her shoulder, his bark of laughter surprising but welcome against her ear. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her against the solid warmth of his chest as he nuzzled the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Look at that," he mused, arms tightening around her waist. "The bastards can be considerate when they want to be. Prickly Sinister aside."

Y/N leaned back against his solid warmth, a deep contentment settling in her bones, a pleasant ache still throbbing between her thighs, making walking a distant memory. "Wonders never cease," she agreed, turning her head to press a gentle kiss to the underside of his jaw, her slightly damp hair brushing against his cheek. "Though I'm not sure I want to know how they knew what we were doing."

"Lensless," they said in unison, then dissolved into laughter that echoed through the fortress halls.

As Mohawk settled at the table with Y/N nestled in his lap, sharing the meal their unlikely family had prepared, she couldn't help but marvel at how far they'd all come—from battle-hardened killers to men who would prepare dinner for their missing companions without complaint (or mostly without complaint, in Sinister's case).

"What are you thinking about?" Mohawk asked, his usual gruffness softened in the aftermath of their shared intimacy, his fingers absently stroking the curve of her hip.

Y/N smiled, reaching across the table to tangle her fingers with his. His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, the small gesture of affection somehow more intimate than all they had shared before. "That I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

The look he gave her in response—wonder mixed with disbelief, as if he couldn't quite fathom his good fortune—was worth every hardship, every battle, every moment of uncertainty that had led them to this strange new world and the life they were building together.

"Yeah," he agreed, squeezing her hand gently. "We all are."

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Hoped you liked this... I put a lot into writing.. like so much it is not even funny...

I am getting busy again, and prob won't be updating for a long time :( Hope y'all liked the stories I've been writing and posting. It was originally for me, but it's a pleasure to share!

Hopefully, I'll get the motivation to write Omni-Mark Smut one day🙏

Much love ♡

Pt.1

Pt.2

Lead up series!! (Invincible variants x reader 1-10 parts) + Sinister Smut

[moon-ttokki-x]

Heya there 🤠 Hope you're doing well! If it's good with you, can I please request something ispired by this - https://www.tumblr.com/moon-ttokki-x/777609369726681088/ ?

I think all of the guys would always take their 9th member as plus one on those events so... how do you think it would be like to go to events like that with each member?

I hope this isn’t too confusing 😭 I'm not good at writing 😕

i already did chan's ver. so here's the rest of the members hehe . . .

₊✩ ot8!skz x plus one! 9th member reader ✩‧₊

pairing: ot8!skz x 9th member!reader

summary: skz find out you're coming with them as plus one to an event.

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, hints of mutual pining, mentions of eating and drinking, kind of groupmates to lovers thing ig, nervous minho awww, jeongin tries to be cool, changbin's is the sweetest ever. literally just fluffy, like tooth-rot worthy fluff. literally no other warnings i'm pretty sure . . .

a/n: i feel like it's been ages since i wrote smth tbh :/ div by @dollywons

skz masterlist | chan's ver.

Minho who is an absolute gentleman. is rather quiet on the ride there but that's only bc he's a little nervous himself (and also bc he's sitting next to you; do you even know how good you look??). has to stop himself from constantly reaching to hold your hand when you both step out of the car, but he can't resist offering you his arm. he's not one for much physical affection, but there's a small part of him that wants you close. shields you from the cameras if the flashing is making you uncomfortable, and introduces you smoothly to people once you're inside the event. literally stays by your side the whole night, glancing sideways every few minutes to make sure you're okay.

Changbin who is the literal king of comforting you. he knows you're a little apprehensive about attending the event, but he distracts you and makes silly jokes to ease the tension floating around your head. if you're worrying how you look, he'll literally drop to his knees and flatter you. he can't believe you're not sure whether you look good or not; rest assured, he'll be reminding you for the rest of the night. locks his pinky with yours as you both wander throughout the crowds to reassure you. he couldn't be prouder of his little maknae attending their first major event, and makes sure to congratulate you and then treat you to something delicious afterwards.

Hyunjin who insists on wearing matching colours and outfits; throws a playful tantrum when you refuse to let him pick the colour. you both spend almost two hours bickering over what to wear, but he gives in and lets you choose anyway. is almost knocked over by the blinding lights of camera flashes once you two arrive at the event, and he waves people off before turning to check on you. leads you through the crowds with a gentle hand on your lower back, and makes sweet, subtle comments to you throughout the night (in front of and away from people; he couldn't care less if anyone else hears him). you're the most stylish duo at the event that night.

Han who whines about having to go to the event before he finds out you're supposed to go with him. literally shoots out of his chair and insists on getting ready (even though the actual thing isn't supposed to start for at least a few hours). promises to help you with interactions and nods encouragingly when you move to approach people at the event. stands by your side, nodding and gently prompting you to talk, shooting you a cheeky wink when you give him a subtle nod in thanks. normally tries to escape these events early, but stalls for as long as possible (partly because he's actually enjoying himself, and partly because he wants to keep admiring you).

Felix who refuses to leave your side and insists on having some part of his body touch yours as you both watch the event start. whether it's his shoulder brushing yours as he shifts a little, or his hand 'accidentally' skating over your thigh, the comfort is far more enjoyable than this event could ever be. isn't actually as invested in the goings-on of the show like he usually is; all he can think about is you. for once, he's too shy to talk to the other people at the event; he makes a mental note to thank the company once he gets back. he quietly begins planning a way to bring you to these outings more often.

Seungmin who initially rolls his eyes and brushes past you when he finds out you both have to go together; softens up when he sees you all dressed up and even offers you his hand when you get out of the car. is bored, as per usual, but he puts on his most convincing facade and steels himself throughout the night. lightens up a little when you lean across to whisper a snide comment to him, and he throws one right back, trying to fight the slight colour rising on his cheeks. thinks about the proximity to you for the rest of the event, and can't seem to get rid of the strange, warm feeling in his stomach. oh well. must have been something he ate.

Jeongin who immediately puts in 200% effort into trying to impress you. dresses up well and makes himself look amazing, makes sure he smells good, and even practices a few english sentences in the mirror to avoid stuttering like he usually does. in a bid to show off a little, he talks to people he normally wouldn't have and is sick of the english language by the end of the night (though he doesn't complain bc that's not cool). succeeds in his attempts to impress you, and doesn't realise how much he talked until he's called into the office the next day. is confused when he's told that he somehow managed to network with every single person at the event.

a/n: skz just one chance pls take me with you

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[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (19) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request: closed

note: uhhh... angst, fluff,, face fucking/freaky sex (period sex) LOL .... nothing too crazy but it's def intimate. jus wanted to let u guys know part 20 is the 'epilogue' for the plotline ,, the continuation will go on from part 21-25,,, (onwards if i have more drafts) but that's all i have planned for now !!! thank u so much for reading along,,, it's truly been a pleasure to be loved and seen by u all <3 much love !!

୨ৎ playlist ୨ৎ

war - keshi ; you always got something you wanna prove / and i've got nothing left to lose / don't know what we're fighting for / i'm tired of going back and forth

intro (end of the world) - ariana ; i'd rather tell the truth than to make it worse for you / if the sun refuse to shine / baby, would i still be your lover? / would you want me there? / if the moon went dark tonight / and if it all ended tomorrow / would i be the one on your mind?

labyrinth - taylor swift ; uh oh, i'm falling in love / oh no, i'm falling in love again

//

that day.

when someone who loves you more than life itself proposes, you say yes. 

that’s what you’re supposed to do. 

you’re supposed to kiss, plan the wedding, get married, and live happily ever after. it’s supposed to work out. it’s supposed to. 

yet, there you stood in front of the love of your life and a ring between you two. silent, eyes flickering back and forth from his to the ring. your gaze traces the cut and falls in love with how the diamonds shine. the band is the perfect thickness and there is nothing more you want in the world than to put it on. 

you know what to say. 

the words are right there, waiting on the tip of your tongue. so easy to speak out, so tempting to do… but with every breath and exchanged look with jungkook, there’s something inside you that stops you. you search as fast as you can, running through your mind with the leftover excuses and justifications of why it’s still a no. 

then, your mind stops spinning the moment you realize; it’s just not the right time. at least, right now isn’t. 

it’s not that simple to understand and accept. you, yourself, have a difficult time figuring out why you can’t just live and be happy. why you can’t accept the proposal right now since you believe in jungkook so much… perhaps, the best way to put it is; it’s stormy. there’s fog, the rain is pouring, and it’s cold. you know the storm won’t last forever. the sky will clear soon… but it’s not now. right now, the storm needs to calm.

only time can do so. 

only time can bring the calm.

so, you answer jungkook with a heavy heart but a clear mind. 

“can i have some time? please, jungkook…” 

his shoulders drop, but his heart feels more than ready to wait. why? because contrary to popular belief, the world didn’t end when you didn’t answer jungkook’s proposal.

who was he to deny you of some time? both of you knew the real issue wasn’t whether you loved him—it was everything wrapped around it.

he gives you until the end of the week to make your choice.

jungkook fills the next 3 days with clingy text messages and random visits to your place. each day, he makes playful comments about how he’s packing up and doesn’t know where to put his things... should he drop them off at your place or ship them to new york.

you roll your eyes and ask, “are you staying there forever?”

in response, he huffs cheekily and says, “only if you break my heart.”

the truth is, you could never do it.

you could never break his heart.

it’s too precious.

it’s quite literally half of yours.

after he proposed and granted you time, the two of you talked about how the week should go. yes, you would give your answer eventually, but more importantly, the focus should be on zion. he’s the center of your relationship, and your decision shouldn’t change the fact that you’re both his parents.

which brings us to now...

sitting in the back of zion’s daycare room with your phone out, more than ready to capture the upcoming moments. but as excited as you are, a nervous buzz hums beneath your skin. maybe it’s just a mom thing. watching your son grow and take part in these little social moments moves you in ways you never expected.

“honey, why are we sitting so far away—”

“oh, you made it!”

“i wouldn't miss this for the world,” jungkook smiles, rushing to your side. he leans in and kisses your cheek, the warmth of his lips sending a comforting flutter through you. settling beside you, he glances at the classroom filled with eager children. “hi mama. is it his turn yet?”

you nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest. “is it weird we’re here during their circle time? like, are we controlling parents? we could’ve just asked for a video to be sent to us—”

“next, we have zion sharing—oh, wow! friends, it looks like zion brought so many toys to show and tell for us today… maybe he can pick just one to present?” zion’s teacher announces, patting his back and helping him open the bag.

your cheeks flush with a blend of embarrassment. wide eyed, jungkook whispers, “holy fuck, you packed him so much shit—“

“shhh! what was i supposed to do? he couldn’t decide, and i didn’t want his first show and tell to be something he wouldn’t remember!” you playfully shove jungkook, who chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“you spoil him too much.”

“says the father that buys his 3-year-old stussy clothing and calvin klein underwear.” you bite.

jungkook shrugs and tilts his head. “dilf behaviour, i don’t know.”

his reply makes you laugh. then, you both turn your attention and watch zion bend over and shuffle through the bag. his small hands search for the perfect item, only revealing he’s found it through a big smile. when he finally makes his choice, the teacher smiles brightly and helps him retrieve a photo from the depths of the bag.

“friends, today zion wants to share a family photo!” she announces, handing the photo to him. zion beams with pride as he holds it up, encouraged to walk around the circle to show everyone. when he notices you and jungkook in the back, his giggle fills the room.

the family photo he chose to share is one of you, jungkook, and zion in bed. zion is 2 years old in the photo with bedhead. it’s his birthday. there’s a cake and a sleepy smile on his face while you and jungkook have paper party hats on, both cheek to cheek with zion. 

you should’ve seen this coming.

of course zion picked this. his favourite memory in his entire 3 years of living is when he woke up in bed and had birthday cake for breakfast. you all look so happy. 

“guys, look! that’s my mommy and my daddy!” he exclaims, pointing excitedly.

suddenly, all twenty pairs of wide eyes turn toward you and jungkook, and you can’t help but laugh awkwardly, waving at the children. “hi friends,” you say softly. “i’m zion’s mommy, and this is zion’s daddy—”

“daddy bought mommy a new car!” zion adds proudly, his voice echoing in the small space. “can i show and tell the car? is it outside mommy—oh! and he bought her a ring too! it’s so big! like a rock—”

a few children burst into laughter, while others shout out eager questions. just then, one little girl runs up to you, her eyes wide with curiosity. “zion, where is the ring?” she asks, looking up at you with innocent expectation.

zion shrugs, clearly unfazed. “at home,” he replies. “mommy always puts it on and then takes it off. on off, on off, on and off!”

“is your daddy rich?” one child shouts out. 

“my mommy is richer.” zion says proudly. “she’s a lawyer.”

“what’s your daddy’s job?” 

zion shrugs. “i don’t know. he always looks at art on his computer. daddy, what’s your job?”

jungkook chuckles. “i’m a visual director for advertisement.”

“yeah, okay. that.” zion nods. “... anyways, i want to be a lawyer like mommy when i grow up.”

your heart skips a beat as jungkook’s lips tighten. you exchange a panicked glance, his brows furrowing as he takes a deep breath, trying to suppress a laugh amid the unexpected attention and embarrassment from the twenty curious kids.

zion’s teacher gently guides his friend back to the circle, asking zion questions like, “how does this photo make you feel?” “where was this photo taken?” and “why did you choose to share this photo?”

zion, beaming with pride, answers one of the three questions. 

“i wanted to show and tell this photo because i love my family. mommy always kisses my booboos and daddy always makes me pancakes. i love it when we sleep in the same bed and they tickle me in the morning… i think they tickled me here too! and i love it when i'm sick and they buy me lollipops... oh, and i love my daddy because he teached me my abcs...” he says, nodding his head with determination. “but also, i love my mommy more than daddy because i just do.”

the other children burst into laughter, their voices mixing in a delightful cacophony of familial love. some shout out their own preferences, choosing sides between mommy and daddy. you can’t help but chuckle at their innocence. jungkook claps, his laughter joining yours, and together you send zion an enthusiastic thumbs up, a shared pride swelling in your chests as you watch him bask in the attention.

when the circle ends, zion’s teacher insist you two stay for a bit and observe zion with the children. you and jungkook spare 10 extra minutes before needing to leave for work. before you leave, you pick up zion and give him a tight hug. 

“i can’t believe you chose us over your toys, my love! that was so speical to us, z!” you exclaim, showering him with kisses on his cheeks and neck. he giggles, jumping in your arms.

“because i love you, mommy—”

“hello?” jungkook cuts in, scooping zion from your arms. “daddy is here too... say you love daddy too…”

zion nods. “okay, i love daddy too. i love mommy more—h-hey”

jungkook also attacks zion with kisses and tickles, their laughter filling the room. when the moment ends, he puts zion down and ruffles his hair. you and jungkook bid him goodbye, promising to come back for pickup in a few hours.

tonight you two plan on celebrating the fact that you and jungkook—despite all the distress and separation—made it known to zion that you are family no matter what.

he is loved no matter what and he is chosen above all else.

which is why this is so special to you and jungkook—

zion chose you two.

for dinner, you and jungkook decide to cook together. 

you two haven’t done this in almost a year. usually, it’s one or the other. tonight, it was special… and for important reasons, zion requested a cake. you and jungkook grant it under the condition that he entertains himself with his toys while you and jungkook cook. 

jungkook takes over with the prep as you begin to cook the meal together. he teases you a few times, joking that the food is burning. before you know it, he’s wrapping his arms around you and helping you cook. 

it's crazy, isn't it? you would think that jungkook would be sore loser when it comes to rejection... but since it technically wasn’t rejection; he's soaking these moments up. any and every moment with you—he's taking.

“is this really a two person job?”

“mhmm,” jungkook says, sneaking a kiss on your neck. “you know what else is a two person job?”

you tilt your face and squint at him. 

he mimics your expression before pecking your lips. 

“focus on cooking. i know it’s hard with me being this handsome and my big ass dick—”

“shut up.”

“yes honey.”

the rest of the evening slips by in a blur.

the dinner is simple but comforting, the kind that fills your heart as much as your stomach. laughter bounces around the table, mixing with the quiet clinking of plates and the warmth of home. after the meal, the three of you gather to cut the cake, zion’s small hands eager as he grabs his slice. it doesn’t take him long to devour it, chocolate smeared across his cheeks and lips. before you can reach for a napkin, he’s off—bolting toward the living room with that familiar burst of energy.

jungkook chases after him, laughter trailing in their wake, filling the space even after they've left. you excuse yourself, slipping away to the bathroom, the echoes of their voices lingering in the hall.

when you return, you pause at the doorway, the sight before you making your heart melt. your boys—your entire world—are sprawled out on the carpet, toys scattered around them in a beautiful mess. zion’s baby trash talk fills the room, his little hands batting at jungkook’s as they wrestle in the softest, silliest way. it’s these moments that make time stop, where everything feels so perfect it almost hurts.

"what do you love the most about mommy?" jungkook asks, his voice playful but curious, pulling zion close until their noses nearly touch.

zion scrunches up his face, clearly deep in thought, but you know him too well—he’s stalling. "umm... i don't know. she's pretty."

jungkook raises a brow, amused. "yeah, she is... but you pick her over me any chance you get and you don’t know?"

zion shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "yeah... i love mommy because i just do." then his face lights up as if he’s stumbled upon a great revelation. "but also because she buys me better toys than you..."

jungkook’s laughter rumbles through the room, shaking his head. "i think my favorite thing is how hard she works for our family."

zion’s head tilts, curious. "cos she’s a lawyer?"

"yeah," jungkook agrees, then his voice softens. "but also because she loves us a lot. she does so much to make sure we’re fed, loved, and somehow always on time. you know, z, i’ve loved mommy for a while now... i can’t wait to love her for even longer. you think she’s gonna marry me?"

zion thinks about it for a second, then shrugs again. "maybe."

"maybe?" jungkook gasps, feigning panic. "you're supposed to be on my side!"

zion's laughter explodes as jungkook attacks him with tickles, his tiny body squirming beneath jungkook’s strong arms. the sound of their laughter fills the room, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, making your chest tighten with an emotion you can’t even name. it’s love, yes, but it’s more than that—it’s contentment.

the kind that comes from seeing your entire heart laid out in front of you, scattered in toys and giggles and moments too precious to capture fully.

you step into the scene, quietly noticing how zion’s eyelids have begun to droop, a yawn escaping his small lips. jungkook notices too, his eyes flicking to the clock before he decides it's time to get zion ready for bed. surprisingly, zion doesn’t argue this time. instead, he bounds toward the bathroom, his energy fading but still there in the way only a child can manage.

as jungkook jogs past you, he smacks your ass, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips as he chases after zion. you huff in mock annoyance but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. there’s a lightness to it all, a warmth that settles deep in your bones, and even as you start tidying up the scattered toys and cluttered living room, you feel that fullness.

by the time you finish, jungkook and zion are still in the bathroom, their voices muffled by the sound of running water and sleepy giggles. you head to the kitchen, your movements slow, deliberate, as you begin washing the dishes, the weight of the day catching up with you. but even through the exhaustion, all you feel is love. it's in the quiet moments, in the laughter, in the way your home feels more alive when the two of them are near.

it's everything.

it always has been.

as you stand by the sink, hands submerged in warm soapy water as you scrub the dinner plates; you can’t help but think about today. 

today was good. 

after you and jungkook left zion’s daycare, you had to get back to the firm. jungkook insisted on driving you, but you brought your car too. instead, you asked him to walk you to your car. happily, he does so. when you two got to your car, you opened the trunk and gave him a gift bag. 

“what’s this?”

“open it.”

“an umbrella?”

“use it.”

he laughed, kissed you, and uttered against your lips; “we’re so not over.”

then, you two parted ways. 

as you wash the dishes, you think back to it.

how his hands were placed around your waist as you two walked out of the daycare. how he kisses you whenever his eyes fall onto your lips. how he laces your fingers together every chance he gets. how he shows up as zion’s father despite all the shit you throw at him… it’s everything to you. 

he’s a good man. 

your mind begins to wander as you think of all the things you want to say to him but can’t. things you’ve kept tucked away, hidden beneath the day-to-day rhythm of life. you think about the moments when everything felt too heavy, when the world seemed to close in on you, and all you wanted was him. 

in the depth of your misery, all you could think of was crawling to him—slipping into his arms, burying your face against his chest, and letting the weight of everything fall away as you cried your heart out.

you wanted to ask him to fix it, to take the burden from you like he always could, as if his love alone had the power to make everything right again.

because love... love should be enough, right? 

in your heart, you know that’s all you’ve ever wanted from him. for the love between you two to be enough to overcome the exhaustion, the stress, the compromises...

you’ve built so much together—beautiful things, a life, a family—but in the quiet moments, you still find yourself wishing it could just be about the two of you again. before the responsibilities, before you had to be anything more than his and him yours.

you imagine a different version of this life (not that you want it. you wouldn’t trade zion for the world). one where you’re still young, where the only thing you have to worry about is each other. no careers pulling you in opposite directions—no complications that need constant juggling or guilt. just him and you, lost in that simple, intoxicating love you both fell into so easily.

if it were like that, you know you’d choose him in a heartbeat. without hesitation, without the doubt that sometimes creeps in when the days get too long. you still would choose him, even now, with all that’s at stake.

because the truth is, you always choose him. 

you choose him in every quiet glance, in every tired smile at the end of a long day. you choose him when he makes you laugh, when he frustrates you, when he softens just enough for you to see that vulnerable part of him he hides from the rest of the world.

and even when things get hard, when life feels overwhelming, and you're standing on the edge of that misery, you still want him. you want him beside you, even if love isn’t always enough to fix everything. because, deep down, you know that with him, it’s enough to keep going.

and maybe that’s what matters most. 

not that love can fix everything, but that it's the reason you keep trying.

but it’s different now in the sense that you have more things to consider. zion, the people around you, your careers, and your own desires. how do you do this? how do you love him and give him everything but at the same time; do it for yourself too?

every day for the past 9 months felt like war. like you had to constantly choose one or the other. 

marriage or new york.

why can’t you have both? 

maybe that’s the answer. 

as jungkook finishes putting zion to bed, the quiet creak of the floorboards announcing his presence behind you. without saying a word, he picks up a dish towel and starts drying the clean plates, his shoulder brushing against yours gently.

"so... i was thinking," he starts casually, “maybe we should start planning for these 3 months. you know, like, zion’s schedule, dinners... that kind of stuff.”

you sigh softly, rinsing a glass. "we’ve got time," you mutter, brushing it off without meeting his gaze. "it doesn’t have to happen right now."

jungkook pauses, drying his hands before leaning against the counter. "i just think we should be prepared," he says, his tone still light but with a hint of seriousness creeping in. “i know you still have time left, but i’m not so sure our plans do—”

“what do you mean our plans? jungkook, you’re not taking zion—” you place the glass in the drying rack, feeling the pressure of the upcoming separation tightening in your chest. "we don’t have to plan every single moment, jungkook. why do you always do this? we have time."

“we have 4 days.”

“4 is plenty.”

“is it?” jungkook asks, voice shaking. “is it easy for you, ___? going back and forth, putting the ring on and off… telling me i can’t make plans—”

“that’s not what i meant—”

“what do you mean, then?”  

the room feels charged with tension as jungkook’s gaze hardens. he can see the conflict written all over your face, the way your shoulders tense and your hands move a little faster. "___, i just want us to be ready," he insists, his voice softening. "we need to figure out how to make this work."

you turn to him, frustration bubbling to the surface. 

"no. it's not easy for me, jungkook. it’s scary as hell when you do this,” you snap. “planning the rest of our life together when we’re only just recovering from the one we lost. i’m scared that if we make plans and start over—we might lose again." your word slip out before you can filter them.

“lose what? we don’t have to have another baby until we’re ready. until you’re ready—”

“it’s not that,” you bite your inner cheeks. “well, it’s a part of it… but what if i do it again? what if i lose myself and lose you? what if i fuck up too much the next time around and you don’t come back? everything we’ve built—us… i… fuck, what if you don’t fight for us because i burned everything down—”

“you won’t.”

“jungkook—”

he huffs. “___, you’re not wildfire, you’re hearth. you’re the reason this all feels like home. yeah, you’ve got heat, but it’s the kind that pulls people closer, not pushes them away. you don’t ruin, you ignite. you’re the reason we’re still burning bright. i burn for you."

you tighten your lips. “have you been watching bridgeton?”

“i’m trying here—”

you kiss him. 

he chases your lips as you pull away.

“i trust you. it’s myself i’m still unsure about. it’s getting better but it just freaks me out when you plan ahead… i used to look forward to those moments, you know? now it feels complicated.”

jungkook nods, bringing his hands to your face. he fixes your hair and looks into your eyes. “honey, even if the flames get high, we’ll handle them together. and if it burns, then fine—then we can slow dance in the burning room. you don’t just burn, you keep me warm. you make everything brighter, stronger. don’t think for a second that i’d let you lose yourself to the fire. i need you. you’re my warmth. you’re the light of my life, ___."

you pout, completely in awe of his words. 

jungkook then leans in and just when he’s about to kiss you, he murmurs; “so are you marrying me or what?” 

his words catch her off guard. as you open your mouth to retort, the teasing glint in his eyes makes you pause. for a moment, you’re defensive, but then the corners of her mouth twitch upward against her will.

“don’t be a coward,” jungkook says. “you’re a million things to me. don’t be that.”

“coward?” you scoff, trying to keep your tone light, as you push away from him. “you think i’m a coward?”

“well, you’re avoiding the tough stuff,” jungkook replies, his playful tone breaking through the tension. “... and we both know you’re tougher than that.”

you can feel the weight of his words settling in, the understanding lingering between you two. the walls of anxiety you built up start to crumble, and you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. 

“maybe you’re right.”

he steps closer, nudging her playfully. “see? that wasn’t so hard, was it? admitting that i’m right… wanting to marry me—”

“whatever you say, you cocky son of a bitch—”

jungkook chuckles, kissing you to shut up.

by the 4th day, jungkook begins to lose his mind.

the waiting has been unbearable. a slow kind of torture that gnaws at him from the inside out. every passing second feels like he's being pulled apart, suspended in limbo, unsure whether his future will unfold with you by his side or shatter into something unrecognizable. his thoughts go in circles—one moment, he’s convinced you’ll say yes, and the next, a creeping doubt settles in, making his chest feel tight.

he imagines every scenario, every possible response, and the worst part is that there’s no way to know.

he has packed all his belongings into boxes that line the walls of his studio apartment, the space feeling more hollow than it ever has. his game plan is simple: if you say yes, he’ll leave the boxes at your place, move back home, and everything will fall into place. if you say no… well, he’ll burn everything and cry the entire way to new york.

kidding.

(maybe)

realistically, jungkook will bring his things to his parents’ house, regroup, and try to act like he isn’t completely devastated. but even if you say no, there’s no universe where you and him don’t end up together eventually.

he’s sure of it.

there’s a certainty in his heart, a pull that refuses to let him believe otherwise. if it takes time, then so be it.

he’ll propose again and again when he gets back, until you see what he sees—that you’re meant for each other.

by the 6th day, yoongi comes in to bring his boxes.

jungkook spent the past 2 days at work, going over files and preparing documents for new york. it felt like going through the motions, like he was acting out a version of his life that wasn’t real yet. when he steps back into his studio, the air feels stagnant, the packed boxes looming like reminders of the uncertainty ahead.

he finds yoongi slumped over on the couch, lazily typing away on his laptop, his legs sprawled across the cushions as if he’s already made himself at home.

“have you been like that all day?” jungkook asks, toeing off his shoes by the door.

yoongi doesn’t look up. he lets out a wide yawn. “yeah,” he says, stretching. “your new york assistant better be patient as hell with you. you're a bitch sometimes... anyways, i actually moved a few boxes and put my clothes in the closet. oh, and i went out for some coffee.”

jungkook squints at him, making a face. “what? i literally have a nespresso machine.”

yoongi stands up from the couch, his hands sinking into the deep pockets of his sweatpants. he tilts his head slightly, a look of lazy amusement on his face.

“no, you don’t.”

jungkook frowns, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. he turns to the kitchen counter, where his nespresso machine has always been, only to find it missing. his heart skips a beat, and he takes a step forward, blinking as if maybe he just missed it somehow.

“what? where’d it go—”

“___ came by and took it,” yoongi says casually, as if he’s talking about the weather.

jungkook’s mind races, processing the information. “what? why would she take it?” his voice is laced with confusion, but there’s a flicker of something else—a hope he doesn’t dare entertain too much just yet.

yoongi rolls his eyes, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

“congratulations on your marriage, jungkook,” he says, twisting the cap off. “now get out of my place. go home.”

jungkook blinks again, his heart pounding as the realization sinks in. you took the nespresso machine.

you took the fucking nespresso machine.

that’s your answer. his chest tightens, but this time it’s not from uncertainty. it’s from the flood of emotions crashing over him—the relief, the joy, the love.

his body moves on autopilot as he starts grabbing things, adrenaline coursing through him. yoongi watches from the couch, a smirk tugging at his lips as he lazily sips his water. “you’re welcome,” he mutters under his breath.

jungkook doesn’t hear him.

his mind is already on you.

the wait is over, and he’s finally going home.

jungkook bursts through your door, calling your name, the sound of his voice filled with excitement and urgency.

“___? honey, where are you—”

time seems to stop as the world around you fades away.

as he catches sight of you on the living room floor, laughter bubbling between you and zion, the warm glow of the afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a golden hue over the room. the ring on your finger catches the light, sparkling as it draws his gaze.

his breath hitches, and his heart feels as if it’s been thrust into a whirlwind—stopping, skipping a beat, and then racing wildly, unable to contain the rush of emotions flooding through him.

it beats for you.

“hi, honey,” you wave him over, your smile radiant and genuine, illuminating the cozy space. “look! zion can count up to thirty now!”

jungkook rushes to your side, the weight of the day lifting with each step. he forgets that yoongi is still with him, his entire focus on you. kneeling beside you, he takes your hand in his, his fingers brushing over the ring—the very symbol of the love and commitment he has always wanted to share with you.

“you’re marrying me?” he asks, disbelief and joy intertwining in his voice. "it's a yes?"

you look at him lovingly, warmth radiating from your gaze—the kind of look that speaks volumes. it’s the same way you’ve always looked at him, but now, there’s an unmistakable depth to it. the courage, the trust, the love shines brighter than ever, enveloping both of you in a cocoon of intimacy.

"i've loved you forever,” you reply, cupping his cheeks with your hands, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. “i have things to work on and so do you... but we're gonna do it together, right? cos this was difficult. this was way too difficult... and loving you has always been clear... so, yeah. i'm toughening it out. i'm trusting you and i'm not going to burn this to the ground. jungkook, you’re the only one i love in this world. you’re the only one who understands me. i fought so many wars in my mind to be with you—it has to be you.”

as jungkook’s lips curve into a radiant smile, a surge of emotion wells up within him. he leans in, capturing you in a kiss filled with promise and passion, pulling zion into a hug, enveloping you both in the warmth of his love. laughter bubbles up, mingling with happy tears as he holds you two close, the room echoing with the sweet sound of family and joy.

“oh my god,” he cries, the happiness spilling over. “i can’t believe this. okay, i’m going to get my stuff and—”

“yoongi?” you call, and he raises his hand, responding as if it were all part of a well-rehearsed script.

“wanna have a sleepover at uncle yoongi’s place? we should give mommy and daddy some privacy, huh?” he explains, scooping zion up into his arms and tickling him, making the little one giggle uncontrollably.

“can we eat ice cream before bed?” zion asks, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“duh!” yoongi replies with a grin.

“yoongi—”

“my son, my rules,” yoongi hushes you playfully. he puts zion down, urging him to say goodbye to you both, and they exchange sweet kisses before you point to the kitchen counter where zion’s overnight bag sits. yoongi picks it up and holds zion’s hand as they leave.

the moment settles around you and jungkook, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder and concern.

“you said yes,” he states, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“i did,” you confirm, a hint of hesitation in your voice.

“what’s with this vibe, then?”

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “jungkook... i still want you to go to new york.”

jungkook tilts his head, his expression shifting to confusion.

“are you guys coming with me?”

you shake your head gently. “no.”

“no?”

you reach for him. he lets you hold his hand. bringing it your lips, you kiss them. “jungkook, i don’t want it to be one or the other. let’s do both, okay? go to new york. let’s get married. both. we do both.” 

“but 3 months?”

“we’ll come and visit!” you suggest, fully meaning to do so. truth be told, you already bought your tickets for the first visit. “i decided to take a leave from work for the rest of the year—why are you looking at me like that?"

"that's huge. are you sure that's what you want?"

you nod. "i want you."

"oh god..."

you laugh. "i want to get this right and i want to be okay. i want to figure it all out and i want to do it with you by my side. so, do this for us…. and 3 months isn’t forever. you’ll be back soon and we’ll be visiting every month. it’s too much of a hassle to move… but i truly want you to go and explore your options. i want you to go knowing that i don’t only love you for who you are and for what you’ll ever be—but i love you so much that i believe in you. in the dreams you have and the dreams i have for you. so, go. go, and when you come back, come back home to us—to me.”

the sincerity in your words wraps around him like a warm embrace, and jungkook feels the weight of your love and belief in him, making him all the more determined to chase after his dreams. he nods slowly, understanding the depth of what you’re offering.

in that moment, everything feels right.

"w-we can’t—" your voice breaks, barely a whisper, trembling with hesitation. your heart is pounding, the room feeling warmer by the second.

“why not?” jungkook’s eyes are wide, pleading, filled with a desire that mirrors your own but with an urgency that’s hard to ignore. his breath fans over your lips, just inches apart.

he’s been kissing you for almost 20 minutes, his lips soft but persistent, his tongue teasing yours in ways that make it impossible to think straight. his hands have long since slipped under your shirt, fingers trailing over your bare skin, sending sparks up your spine.

the heat between you two is overwhelming, consuming. his touch is soft but possessive, his fingertips grazing the edge of your bra as he pulls you closer, pressing you flush against him. you feel his heart racing beneath his chest, a rhythm that matches your own.

every inch of you craves him, craves more.

“i want you,” his voice is a low, husky whisper, filled with need. his hands move slowly, deliberately, like he’s memorizing every curve of your body, every reaction. “i want all of you.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, your resolve weakening with every second. he looks at you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted, like he’s been waiting for this moment forever... and you have too.

the tension between you two has been building for so long, the unspoken feelings bubbling under the surface, waiting to explode.

his lips find your neck, pressing soft, heated kisses there, and you arch into him, your breath hitching. your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, your body betraying the protests on your lips. every touch, every kiss, makes it harder to think, harder to hold onto the reasons why you shouldn’t.

you can feel how much he wants you, the way his hands tighten their grip on your waist, the way he presses himself harder against you, his need undeniable. his lips move back to yours, capturing them in a deep, searing kiss that leaves you breathless. and in that moment, it’s like nothing else matters but him, but this.

you’ve never felt anything like this—so intense, so consuming.

“i’m on my period.”

jungkook bites his bottom lip. 

“so?”

“i think i’m gonna be more sensitive and it's gonna be so messy—”

“are you okay with being more sensitive? we don’t have to fuck if you don’t want to.” he insist, putting you first. your eyes flicker to his cock, poking through his jeans. "and mess is just mess. we can clean it up."

“i want to,” you say. “should we just put a towel underneath?” 

he nods, getting up from your bed and out the hall to the linen closet. there, he picks the thicket towel and hurries back to your room. he bends over and places the towel on your spot. you get up to go to the bathroom and freshen up as he prepares. 

when you get back, jungkook is already naked. he grabs you by the waist and pins you down on the bed. 

“let me suck your dick first.”

jungkook gulps. 

“actually, c-can i.. can i fuck your tits first?”

you laugh, puckering up for him. he leans over and kisses you. against the kiss, you answer him; “whatever you want, honey.”

with that, jungkook sets himself on top and places his cock in between your boobs. his cock is bigger than ever. you take it with two hands, pumping him slowly and adding some pressure to it. he throws his head back, hissing at the perfection of your touch.

“f-fuck…”

then, you let go and hold your boobs together. jungkook then begins to pump himself in between. the tip of his cock pokes out every so often, causing him to pant at the sight. you lower your chin, opening your mouth for his cock to enter it. jungkook takes the hint and shoves his dick inside. 

you suck on it.

twirling your tongue around and playing with his tip—jungkook just might combust. you breathe through your nose as he begins to fuck your mouth. he can’t help it and you wouldn’t want it any other way. jungkook fucks your mouth in a desperate and almost brutal way. god, did he need this. 

he loves this. 

jungkook places his hands against the wall to help his stability. as he pulls himself out, you hold his cock with your two hands and continue to give him a handjob. he loses his breath for a second when he looks down and sees you drag your tongue around his hard cock. 

he moans, eyes shut and the feeling of the pit of his stomach twisting. 

“g-gonna cum—fuck, fuck, fuck!” jungkook chants.

you suck his dick more intensely. taking in every inch of him and tiring your inner cheeks out—he finally cums inside your mouth. 

pulls out, you don’t let go. you continue to pump his length and kiss it. 

jungkook feels like he’s going insane. he moves his body and matches to your eye level. he kisses you, tasting a bit of himself. 

“thank you.”

“any time, daddy.”

“oh god—”

you laugh. 

jungkook wipes the cum that spilled outside of your mouth with his thumb and shoves it in your mouth. you suck it clean. 

“do you want me to eat you out?”

“that’s nasty!” you cry, hating the idea. “just put it in.”

jungkook smirks. “no prep?”

“aren’t i wet already?”

he ignores you and fixes your position. he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him. jungkook then places himself on top of you and his cock in between your legs. he parts your folds, looking down at your bloody entrance.

“ready?”

you nod, lacing your hands together around his neck. he lets out a breathy moan as he sinks himself inside you. 

you wince. 

“f-fuck, should i pull out?”

you shake your head. “n-no.”

“does it hurt?”

“yeah.”

he lowers his head, placing kisses on your neck and collarbone. “sorry, mama.”

“why are you so fucking big?” you hiss, feeling his thickness push inside you even more. your body jolts and he chuckles. 

“that big?”

“mhmm,” you agree, closing your eyes to help regulate the burning feeling in between your legs. “j-just keep going. think it’s better when you—oh, f-fuck. yeah. like t-that, daddy. s-so nghhh, f-fuck. so good.”

“you like that, mama?” jungkook asks, pumping himself inside and out of you deeper and deeper. “fuck, you’re so tight. so fucking tight. can we do this again next month?”

"oh my god!"

you hit his shoulders and he laughs. 

it’s not long before your arms wrap around him. you drag your nails against his skin, digging deep as he fucks you. 

jungkook rests his forehead against yours. there, he watches as you make fuck me eyes at him, and as you wince and gasp between each thrust. your arms move up, holding onto his shoulders. 

then, you feel it. 

the tingle in between your legs and the tightness that follows. jungkook’s cock throbs inside you and you feel it like never before. 

wrapped in his warmth, your heart swells with a love that feels like a tsunami—overwhelming and unstoppable. it’s a powerful wave that crashes over, rising higher with every shared look, every gentle touch. you can feel it building inside me, a rush of emotions that surges forth like water cascading from a great height, and you’re completely swept away.

you’re done for.

the intimacy of this moment is everything. his pants and murmurs of ‘i love you’s echo in your ears, and the way he looks at you with light in his eyes make your heart race like never before. 

it makes you want to cry. 

you’ve known and felt loved by jungkook before. for a long time now actually… but never like this. never has it ever felt this raw and real. 

never has it ever felt this consuming. 

it engulfs you, leaving me breathless yet exhilarated. in this moment, everything else fades away. there are no worries, no doubts—just you and jungkook suspended in time, hearts beating in sync. you can feel the tide of your feelings, crashing and receding, drawing me closer to him with each pulse.

as you gaze into his eyes, you realize that this love isn’t just a fleeting moment in time. 

it’s endless. 

uh oh. 

i’m falling in love. 

you want to surrender to it completely. to be swept away in the depths of our intimacy. with jungkook, there’s a promise of haven in chaos and as the waves of love continue to swell, you know that you’re more than ready to embrace every moment. 

to let this tsunami carry you wherever it may lead.

“fuck, ___… a-are you crying? i’m sorry. i’ll—”

you hold onto him. 

uh oh.

i’m falling in love again.

eyes burning with your tears, heart lighter than ever. 

“i love you, jungkook.”

“i love you too, mama.”

jungkook kisses you, continuing to ask if you’re okay. you assure him you are and that period sex is a lot more emotional than you expected it to be. it’s not freaky—it’s just a fucking moment. he continues to fuck you, digging in deeper and deeper. 

you think to yourself; no one will ever know me the way he does. 

no one will ever love me and want me as wholeheartedly as he does… for that, you’re grateful and fall in love with the closeness everything has brought you two. 

you lose yourself to him.

he carries you through 3 more orgasms before helping you up from bed, starting you and bath, and cleaning you. together, you two sit in the bathtub and hold each other. you two talk about the plans that you have and what to expect during the next 3 months. 

as you lay next to jungkook, his soft breathing fills the quiet room. his body sinks deeper into sleep. you feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours, his arm draped loosely over your waist, pulling you closer. the warmth of his skin against yours, the weight of him in the stillness—it all feels like home.

the world outside could be moving a million miles an hour, but here, with him, time seems to slow down, just for the two of you.

yet, something stirs within you, a reminder of a truth you’ve held onto for years—time doesn’t stop for broken hearts. it never has, it never will. yet, it always seems to move a little slower when love slips through your fingertips—when it’s about him.

something you’ve always known about loving jungkook is that he fears the end. he’s never been good with losing people or things, never able to fully let go. he loves and lives like he’s running out of time, even though he isn’t. but that’s what makes him so different, so captivating—he loves in full force. he loves with his entire heart... and he loves with all his time.

as his breaths even out, you stay awake, thoughts swirling around you. you realize how long it took to get here, how many battles you fought—most of them with yourself.

pride had been a constant companion, keeping you at arm's length from the very love you craved. there were moments where you couldn’t imagine letting yourself be this vulnerable, this open. loving him meant risking the one thing you protected the most—your heart.

but somewhere along the way, you let that pride slip away, piece by piece. maybe it was the way he looked at you, the way he never let go, no matter how many times you tried to push him away. maybe it was realizing that you didn’t have to be so strong all the time, that with him, you didn’t have to carry the weight of everything alone. the moment you put pride aside, everything shifted—time, love, and life all started falling into place.

you’ve both waited for this.

for the space to just be with each other without the weight of past mistakes or the fear of losing what you’d built. now, time feels like it’s on your side. for so long, it seemed like you were always too late or too soon, like everything was just out of reach. but here, in this moment, with his warmth wrapping around you, you know you’ve finally caught up to where you were meant to be.

he stirs a little, tightening his arm around you as he shifts closer. a soft smile tugs at your lips, the kind of smile that only comes when you realize that all the walls you’d built were finally down. you’ve let go of the need to protect yourself from him, because you know now that loving him is worth more than holding onto pride.

the first light of morning spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. jungkook wakes slowly, his sleepy eyes finding yours, a lazy grin spreading across his face. in that moment, without either of you needing to say a word, you both know—time isn’t something to fear anymore.

it’s finally yours.

“coffee?” he mumbles, voice still heavy with sleep.

"coffee."

you move together, the rhythm of your morning routine as easy and familiar as breathing. side by side, you make coffee, the smell of it filling the kitchen, your hands brushing as you pass him his cup.

and as you stand there, cups in hand, you feel a quiet sense of peace. the pride that once kept you from this moment is gone, and in its place is something stronger—trust, love, and the certainty that no matter what time brings, you’ll face it together.

whether it's the beginning or the end;

you and jungkook are timeless.

[https-lvesick]

⌕ LYING WEBS, a mark smau

❝ toronto has never been this chaotic. crime surges, tension rises, and yet, the city still sleeps soundly—because the spiders are watching. spider-man and silk have become more than heroes; they’re legends, trusted even by the police to keep the streets safe. but behind the masks, they’re just teenagers, juggling school, friendships, and the messy business of growing up. between late-night patrols and last-minute assignments, one question lingers: what’s harder—admitting you have a crush on your new best friend or revealing you're a mutant superhero? ❞

pairing ⋆ spider!mark x silk!reader

genre ⋆ social media!au, angst, fluff, suggestive, friends to lovers

content ⋆ violence, mentions of death, some angst between ningning and jisung, mark and reader are kinda stupid, death and sexual jokes, a lot of cursing...

status ⋆ ongoing!

taglist ⋆ open! (pls fill out this form)

★ finally she's back! my first smau! i'm so happy to announce it's back :( now, with a proper plan! hope you enjoy it guys <3 ps. had to use the old banner bc i couldn't make a new one... this post was supposed to be out days ago

winx club ⋆ city's hope

[00] coffee date

[01] female experts

[02] study group goes terribly wrong (written)

[03] mr. moon bear 🧸

[04] jisung's issue

[05] ningning's issue (written)

[bvidzsoo]

Chasing your shadows

𓍼 Cherry Blossom, March Event 𓍼

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Outlaw!Kim Hongjoong x Bounty hunter!reader

𓍼 Warning: cursing, violence, guns, mentions of past abuse, slight sexism and misogyny 𓍼 Word count: 11k 𓍼 Rating: nc-17 𓍼 Genre: fluff, soulmates: each day on your arm is a particular event your soulmate will face today (ex. promotion, family death, new pet etc.), outlaw x bounty hunter, Wild West AU, enemies to lovers 𓍼 Summary: What was supposed to be a wild chase after a bounty you had your eyes set on for years now, turns into a life changing event. You had always known your soulmate was never up to any good thanks to the words inked on your inner forearm ever since you were five years old, but you hadn't expected him to be the biggest menace known to the state...or the man you had been relentlessly chasing, trying to catch for the hefty reward promised.

A/N: Hello, my lovelies!! The first drabble of the series is here, ack, I'm so excited to hear your thoughts about all of the drabbles. I'd like to think we had pretty original ideas and tried to write as fluffy stories as possible lol. I don't think I have much to yap about right now, but I'll let you know that I'm obsessed with cowboy/wild west AUs (especially Bouncy era, how can one be over that?? I even went to the concert as a Sheriff(-ish) lol). I hope you enjoy the story and let me know what you thought of it, feedback always feels really nice! Enjoy! ^^ (as a second thought, based on the characters in this story...should I write a Yungi spin-off?? lol, I cannot be helped at this point...) divider @cromernet

𓍼 Join the taglist here! 𓍼

Taglist: @thecarnivaloflies @faeriehwa @mingiatz @kang-ulzzang @xylatox

@mintchocolatto @mintsugarr93 @solaris-amethyst @foxinnie8 @marvolos

@licityvibes @amoryeonjun @nkryuki @matchahintonagar @k1ttym0nkey

@justconniez @ateezswonderland

                        The earth was still scorching hot even with the merciless sun finally taking its departure for the day, soon to be replaced by the moon, which had more mercy for us mere humans. The nights weren’t cool, but at least the breeze managed to move the otherwise choking hot air that persisted during the day, forcing everyone to sweat immensely. Your thighs were burning, and your hands were sweaty despite you rubbing them off on your pants every now and then, and your stomach growled at the first sight of buildings. You had finally reached the next bigger town. You knew you could do it, but Sheriff Jeong had tried talking you out of it earlier this morning. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in your skills; it’s that he saw you as his little sister and was worried about you. You’ve known each other for many years now, and if it weren’t for his trust and respect for you, you most probably wouldn’t be here now.

Your horse slowed to a strut, no doubt just as thirsty and hungry as you were. You had given him your last three apples hours ago when you had stopped for a little breather under the shade of a lonely tree, not a soul in sight. That’s how most of your adventures went like, it was you and Carlos, your most trusted ally. He was a gorgeous horse, standing taller than any other horse you had known, its ears long and sharp, eyes round and observant, and its feet strong and quick. He was still young, so he was in good shape, and while you could say that about Carlos, your own bones couldn’t relate to that statement. You’d soon be hitting thirty, a prime age for people in these times, and if it wasn’t your body asking you to be kinder to it, then it was Sheriff Jeong reminding you of it continuously. He had it easy, though; he had a loving woman waiting for him at home at the end of each day, cooking him his favourite dishes and running a bath for him. You…you had no one waiting for you in the small cabin you had claimed as yours years ago once you’ve had enough of your father’s abuse. He didn’t let you have anything, not even the little money you saved up by working ungodly hours at the Inn, cleaning up piss and vomit, smiling to sleazy men while delivering their beers to their dirty tables. And then your mother got sick, and you realised she wouldn’t make it if you didn’t make enough money.

In the end, it didn’t matter how much money you had earned for her to get the best treatment, she was gone in under three months. It was then that you decided you didn’t want to live in a house where your father didn’t bother to do anything for himself, taking whatever he could that you had claimed as yours. He was a homeless man now; you’ve seen him around the Townsquare at times, begging for change or a loaf of bread. You didn’t pity him, you just hoped your mother wasn’t disappointed that you had left him behind with nothing but the disgrace that he was. Your eyes surveyed the quiet town as Carlos took the two of you further inside. Older men stood on their porches smoking tobacco they could barely afford. You’ve always found it pathetic when the poor flaunted the wealth they never had, hence why there was nothing to you that you could brag about. Carlos neighed loudly and abruptly stopped, yanking its head low and making you lean over since your fingers were tightly twisted into the reign.

“What is it, handsome?” You whispered as you leaned towards your horse's ear, smiling fondly as you patted its cheek, “Tired? Come on, just a bit more.”

But Carlos just neighed loudly again, turning the heads of those walking past you. The lady had a basket filled with goods, a young boy latched onto her ragged skirt, curious round eyes looking up at you. You paid them no mind as you tried to get Carlos moving again, but your horse was even more stubborn than you and wouldn’t budge. You groaned and threw a leg over the saddle, jumping down with practised ease. The young boy was still looking at you as you patted your horse's rear, tutting your tongue as you tried to get Carlos moving again. Maybe if he saw you walking, he’d get to it too.

“Missy!” A high-pitched voice called out, making your head turn, “Are you new in town?”

“Indeed, I am.” You answered the boy as he and the lady had stopped walking now, both of their eyes filled with curiosity, “Tell me, boy, is any Inn close by?”

It was the lady speaking up, her eyes looking past you, her free hand pointing forward, “See that grand building? Go past it, and you’ll find one half its size; they might have a few free rooms.”

“Many newcomers?” You quirked an eyebrow, prodding without being too obvious. You were here with a purpose, after all, but you couldn’t let anyone know your true intentions just yet.

“Heard some men galloping in last night.” The lady shrugged, grabbing the boy’s hand into hers, “Didn’t look too nice or kind, keep safe, Missy.”

“You too.” You grabbed the front of your cowboy hat and gently lowered it in a respectful greeting. The boy grinned and waved before he was ushered forward, the lady tugging him after herself since he was still gazing at your gorgeous horse. You smiled and walked in front of Carlos, throwing him an amused look, “You heard that, princess? Think you can walk for another five minutes?”

As if you were understood by the horse, it neighed and surged forward, walking ahead of you as you chuckled and shook your head, playfully slapping its rear and making it huff as you decided to follow your horse on feet; you needed the movement. Your lower back and thighs were stiff, neck aching from the rigid position you’ve had to keep while riding all day long. Your throat was parched, and you couldn’t wait to wolf down a jug of water—or beer—but what you wanted the most was to throw yourself in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water and let your muscles melt into it.

As the lady had said, the Inn was half the size of the grand house—a mansion, you came to realise, looking unoccupied at the moment—and it was just like any other Inn you’ve had the pleasure of staying in. The structure looked old and was not in the best condition as you walked around it, trying to find a stable. A boy, around fifteen, seemed to be dozed off as he sat on a hay, a long string of grass falling out of his mouth as he was leaning against the stable door. You chuckled and then cleared your throat, making the boy jump up with heavy eyes.

“Yes?! I am on it!” You raised an eyebrow as you watched the boy fumble around himself without doing anything, and then he froze, slowly looking up at you, “Oh, I didn’t—that’s a gorgeous horse!”

“Think you can keep him safe for me?” You quirked an eyebrow with a grin on your lips, patting Carlos’ cheek. The boy’s eyes went wide as he nodded eagerly, righting his posture and tapping his dirty clothes down.

“Yes, ma’am!” He called loudly, holding his chin high. You smirked, holding the reins out to him.

“Is the Inn full? Got many people in town?” Perhaps the stable boy knew more than the previous lady and child.

“Seven men came in hours ago, ma’am, but the Inn still has some rooms available.” Seven men, he’d said, perhaps you really were in the right place. You smirked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Perfect, I’ll pay you tomorrow, sound good?” You untied your bag from the backside of the saddle, throwing it around your shoulder, “And not a word to anyone that I’m here, am I clear?”

“Can I ride him?” The stable boy asked as he opened the door, staring with yearning eyes at Carlos.

“Keep my secret, and we’ll see.” You winked, grabbing a slightly melted lollipop from your pocket to toss it at the boy. His eyes glinted as he caught it, veering Carlos inside the stable after him, “Feed him well, my boy is famished and thirsty!”

“Yes, ma’am!” And then you were off to the Inn, smirking to yourself at the presence of six horses inside the stable. So, the gang was here…all you had to do was find them. The town wasn’t as big as the last one you had trailed the outlaws in, you had a feeling you’d finally find him here. It was a feeling you couldn’t explain, but you felt it deep in your stomach like when you were famished.

The Inn had yet to be filled with patrons, but the early birds were already here, downing their beer like it was water, talking loudly for no reason. The woman behind the counter looked sickly and tired, but she still smiled at you when she saw you. You sauntered over, tipping your cowboy hat in a greeting before you took it off, the air feeling cool against your heated hair, “Got a room for me, pretty?”

The girl’s smile widened as she turned, grabbed a key off the wall, and then faced you again, “Ten pennies.”

You laughed, but you were already undoing your satchel tied to your waist, “Isn’t that too much, sweetheart?”

“Aren’t you staying for three days?” She quirked an eyebrow, leaning against the counter and exposing her already visible cleavage. You huffed down another laugh, enjoying the banter as you leaned in just for the fun of it.

“You know where to find me if you need me.” The woman giggled then, letting you take the keys as ten pennies landed on the counter. You wouldn’t try and bargain your way for a lower price since Sheriff Jeong was gracious with the payment before you left on your little hunt. Your satchel was filled with pennies, and you’d have even more by the time you reached your good old town again, “Get me a drink too, I’m thirsty. On the house?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed at your playfulness as you took a seat on a stool, feeling eyes on your back. It wasn’t often that people encountered a woman dressed as a cowboy, the silver pistol with black engravings strapped to your outer thigh rather visible to anyone. What was also rare was a female bounty hunter. Sheriff Jeong took plenty of convincing to finally accept your pleas to send you out on a wild chase, then shocked, but pleased, at your return with the criminal in your hands. The officers had been trying to catch the man for years, and you managed to do it in merely two days. You were a prideful woman, proud of your accomplishments and unafraid to boast about them to men who look at you with little regard and respect. You’d spit in their face and then take them in a gunfight anytime, you knew who’d come out as the winner. There is a reason why Sheriff Jeong places so much trust in you. You’ve never failed him before, and you wouldn’t start now. You smiled as the woman pushed a pint of cold beer towards you, winking as she said, ‘on the house’. With a chuckle, you grabbed the handle of the pint and raised the heavy glass to your lips to finally quench your thirst. You didn’t stop until you had drunk half of it, your throat burning in a good way, the cold extinguishing the fire you felt inside your body. A shiver ran down your back as you slammed the pint back onto the wooden counter, letting out a satisfied sound as you nodded in appreciation. The beer was delicious, or maybe you were just too thirsty.

You hadn’t noticed the man who had taken the stool to your right, leaving one empty between the two of you, but you now felt his sharp gaze on the side of your face, “I’ve never seen a woman wolf down beer that fast.”

You huffed, turning your head to give the man a look. You hadn’t expected him to be so tall with short dark hair and sharp features, his heavily lidded eyes dark and staring sharply at you. His nose was long and his lips were plump, his skin tan, and his face covered by little blemishes and scars. His dark brown leather vest clung to his toned torso like a second skin, showing off his bare arms, his biceps bulging, his shoulders wide and menacing. Much like you, he had a pistol sheathed at the waist, which was small with his leather pants clinging to it tightly, his thighs thick. You wondered how he survived the heat in a full leather-clad outfit, but you weren’t here to find out.

“Intimidated?” You smirked, throwing back the rest of the beer and barely suppressing a loud burp. It was good, you deserved it after the long day you’d had under the hot sun burning your skin, the dust making your lungs ache since you hadn’t worn your scarf for protection. The man laughed, its sound rich and amused, deep like his voice.

“Maybe if you down two more of those, yeah.” His cowboy hat was placed on the dirty counter much like yours, and you hummed, standing up.

“Gotta pass on this one, cowboy. I’ve had a long day.” You winked at him as you grabbed your hat, setting it back on your head with ease. It had been worn for way too long, and it was visible, but you didn’t want to part with it until it hadn’t disintegrated into nothing.

“You a newcomer?” He questioned as he nursed his drink, something darker than your beer, most probably Whiskey. He didn’t look rich, but if his leather gear didn’t scream money, then the expensive drink did.

“And you?” Answering a question with a question was always the way to go when you hoped to pry out information from others. If this pretty man was just a dumb boy, he’d fall for it easily. But maybe you had underestimated him as he smirked, chuckling behind his glass of alcohol.

“Had a long day, too.” Then he tipped his drink back, rasping his knuckles against the counter to ask for a refill, “Rest easy tonight.”

“You too, cowboy.” The man seemed to like being called that as he bit his bottom lip, his eyes taking your form in. You weren’t here for him or to have fun that could potentially distract you, so you took your leave before he could try and hold you back with more useless chit-chat. But your eyes strayed towards his inner forearm as he raised his hand to wave you away jokingly, the bold letters exposed and looking like he had tried tempering with them. He wouldn’t be the first person to do that. Sheriff Jeong’s supposed soulmate refused to look at the words on her inner forearm after finding him, cutting into her skin, and refusing to admit that perhaps something was amiss. But who were you to judge since you knew your soulmate was far from being a good man? You’ve been reading the events inked under your skin that would occur to him ever since you could read, and he’s never once been up to anything good. You found it peculiar what the words on the cowboy’s forearm said, seeing the bounty hunter off on a day like today. You didn’t mean to think of Sheriff Jeong, but that’s exactly what he had done earlier this morning…seeing you off and wishing you luck for your long and dangerous journey.

The stairs felt a bit uneasy underneath your boots as you made your way upstairs, the Inn filling out with more patrons now that the sky had significantly darkened outside. Your room was towards the end of the hallway, and as you pushed the door open to step inside, the one across from yours opened. The man stepping outside wasn’t too tall, his hat tipped so low you could only see his red lips. You paid him no mind as you slammed your door shut and locked it, making sure to keep out any unwanted guests. It wouldn’t be the first time a man felt entitled enough to try and let himself into your room without your permission, promising you foolishly sweet nothings that ended in a beating he’d never forget.

The room was dingy and small, just like any other room at any Inn, and you let your things fall to the wooden floor as you walked towards the windows to push them open, closing your eyes as you were met with the cooling temperature of the evening. You leaned over the windowsill and inhaled deeply, relishing in the moment of quietness and allowing your muscles to ease up, your mind silent for the first time today. Then, you slowly stepped out of your boots and walked towards your bed, peeling off your clothing one by one until you stood naked, groaning at the feeling of nothingness on your skin. It felt like heaven peeling off the sweat-clad clothes, untying your long hair and massaging your scalp as you walked towards the bathroom attached to the room. You were lucky you didn’t have to share it with the others staying at the Inn. You let the water run as you sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring down at your inner forearm. The ink was black and thick, bold letters not too large, staring back up at you. Bar fight was carved under your skin, and you couldn’t help but feel unimpressed. Your soulmate could do something more impressive. Not even three months ago, he hijacked a train and robbed the rich. Coincidentally, days later, it was discovered that it was the outlaw gang you’ve been following for years now, the seven men who had been terrorising the Southern parts of your state.

Knowing you could run out of water anytime now, you quickly got into the bathtub and stood under the spray of lukewarm water, sighing in relief as all the grime was finally washed off your body. The first loud noise got your eyebrows furrowing, but then shouts followed until you could hear glass breaking and manly voices shouting intangible things. You chuckled as you washed your hair out, feeling the need to refresh it. Drunk men were so simple, one wrong look would result in a stand-off, and you could only hope the pretty woman behind the counter wouldn’t get injured in the bar fight downstairs.

            There was nothing better than waking up to complete silence, with the occasional rooster crowing and horses neighing in the distance. But that was back in your town, where you could sleep in unless Sheriff Jeong needed you. The wicked didn’t rest, therefore, you were up before the sun could even rise, sauntering down to the bar. The pretty lady was gone from behind the counter, now replaced by a tall and muscular man, his eyes sharp like knives and rather judgemental. He had given you a one-over before rolling his eyes and knocking on the small window you’d failed to notice last night. Ten minutes later, a sloppy breakfast was pushed in front of you. Some sunny side-ups paired with a rather sad-looking salad—which you were sure was slowly starting to rot away—but food was food. If they didn’t charge you extra, you’d try your luck and ask for a cup of coffee too…if they served fancy stuff like that here. As you ate your breakfast, you subtly surveyed the place, looking for the handsome man from last night. He wasn’t here, not that you had expected him to be, and the bar looked like it went through a rough night. But given the fact that there was a bar fight just a few hours ago, you figured nobody bothered to clean it up since it would end up looking like that again soon.

Having finished your breakfast, you were ready to scoop out the town to get to know the way things worked here and get some intel on the residents and newcomers. Getting information like that was always easy if you played the confused and lost little damsel in distress; men were pathetically desperate to help out any woman who looked at them for long enough. It was hilarious, you tried to keep your grin off your face as the man leaning against the Bank’s wall spoke slowly on purpose, his expression feigning fake worry for your safety.

“Missy, excuse my prodding, you’ve been saying you’re here alone?” An eyebrow arched in your direction, and you smirked, tilting your head.

“Why, sir? Would you like to accompany me?” A trick question, but it always worked getting them off your back.

“Well, since missy seems so lonely and scared—”

You didn’t care for what he had to say, so you didn’t let him finish, “I’m afraid the handsome fella who travels with me wouldn’t be too keen on me bringing a stranger inside our shared room…”

The man paused, his eyebrows furrowing deeply as he looked at you with a new glint in his eyes. Anger. Your smirk grew as you pulled your shoulders back, slapping your cowboy hat back on. Your job here was done with this man.

“Have a lovely day, sir, may we never meet again.” You chuckled under your breath as you tipped your hat in his direction, then quickly left the narrow alleyway before he got any idea on how to make you stay there with him for longer. He wouldn’t be the last nor the first one; men around these towns were desperate for something ‘fresh’. They couldn’t wait to cheat on their wives with whoever rolled into town, even if for a remotely short period. You found your feet taking you further inside the city. Carlos would rest today and hopefully tomorrow, too, if you deemed this town useful of any sort.

You couldn’t tell whether you were in the right place just yet…but there it was that gut feeling again, still persistent to the point there was a buzzing too in your ears. It felt like your inner forearm was suddenly on fire; the words were hidden underneath a scarf you had purposefully wrapped around your naked skin to hide the words petty theft. It was unsurprising that your soulmate was trying his luck yet another time at something that could land him behind bars. The words thrown in prison were yet to be marked underneath your skin, so whoever this criminal was, he was good at whatever he did. You wondered if he’d soon run out of luck, your mind taking you places. How amusing it would be if you were the one to catch him, the thought that he was on the wanted list you were hunting through has crossed your mind more than once before. You couldn’t help but laugh it off every time, especially if Sheriff Jeong was entertaining that thought. Not that he was so much better off…the sole reason why you knew his pretty partner was not his soulmate was because whatever the ink on Jeong Yunho’s forearm said had never been the one his girl was up to that day. Sheriff Jeong and you were in a rather similar position, but he wasn’t ready to admit that just yet.

The marketplace was loud as you walked through the open wooden gates; the place was filled with people despite it being the early morning. In small towns, everyone rose with the sun and went to bed at the first sighting of the moon, living a healthier and perhaps even longer life than those in the bustling towns, greedy for more than they could ever handle. You surveyed the place, your eyes taking in all the people, the eager vendors standing behind their stands, shouting to gather more attention and more buyers. You recognised a few faces already, people who were kind enough to open their doors for you this morning and have a chit-chat. The lady from yesterday with the little boy stood behind a stall filled with freshly baked goods, and you made a mental note to buy a loaf of bread from her on your way home. Maybe you could take her son to ride Carlos later in the day, it was rather obvious that the little boy badly wished to at least touch your gorgeous companion.

Asking around was never the hardest part of your mission, yet there was one downside to it. People would grow suspicious of you if you didn’t do it smartly, so you decided to ask around the elderly instead of the youth, who could easily accuse you of planning a heist or perhaps even an attack on their otherwise serene town. The old lady you had set your eyes on had a wrinkly face and trembling hands as she sat on a small chair, knitting quietly as she hummed a melody. There weren’t many products on display, but the clothing items she handmade looked rather useful for the hot days these regions faced daily. If the price was good, you’d be walking away with a hand-knitted flowy vest and perhaps even more information that would be highly useful right now. You smiled as you approached the stall, letting your fingers run over the soft fabric of the vest you had set your eyes on.

“Mornin’!” You called cheerily, smiling widely at the old lady as she jumped at your sudden arrival.

“Oh, Saints, that scared me.” She chuckled, letting her handiwork rest in her lap as she returned your wide smile, “Mornin’, dear, you’re new in town. Welcome, what brings you around here?”

Leaning your hip against the wooden table, you decided to slip in a bit of truth, “I’m chasing after someone. I have a hunch they might be right here, but other than that, it’s nice to travel to new parts of the state from time to time.”

The woman hummed, a faraway look crossing her features, “I once had the chance to travel the whole world…but then I fell in love.”

You watched the lady rub her covered forearm, turning her head to look at you with sadness in her eyes, “Did you settle down here?”

The old lady hummed, picking up her handiwork to continue it, “Love can be a beautiful but painful feeling. Are you here on your own? Perhaps you’re chasing your soulmate?”

You scoffed but suddenly felt a weird pang in your gut. Could you be chasing your soulmate? It was possible, but what were the chances…here you were again, entertaining that thought. You shook your head and shrugged, keen on changing the topic of the conversation, “I’m just looking for someone. I doubt they are my soulmate. He’s out there somewhere, wreaking havoc in his wake.”

“Those damn outlaws…” The old lady muttered, and your eyes widened slightly, making you chuckle under your breath. There was something about her demeanour that screamed calmness, her hands looked like they’d been through a lot as they were decorated with scars. You were here to find out more about any suspicious movement, though, so you couldn’t focus on small insignificant details about the people living in this town. It’s not like you’d see them ever again, so what was the point of forming bonds that would dwindle out once you left?

“You know anything about them?” You tried to make your voice sound casual, your bottom lip between your teeth as you averted your eyes when the old lady snorted under her breath.

“Who doesn’t, dear?” The old lady huffed, the look in her eyes fiery as she looked up at you, “They always ruin everything, cause carnage and leave suffering behind. If I could, I would still be catching them, but my old joints barely let me walk, let alone run.”

You couldn’t mask your surprise as your eyes widened a little bit, “Were you a bounty hunter?”

“Not quite,” The lady grinned, averting her eyes as her hands worked diligently on the sleeves of the blouse in her lap, “I helped the Sheriff catch felons a few times, but I was never brave enough to become a bounty hunter. It seemed like too much effort and danger, plus I couldn’t deal with all the mocking that already came due to me working with the Sheriff…”

“Right,” You hissed, venom slipping into your tone, “People are like that, stupid cunts.”

The old lady started laughing loudly, her lips pulled into an amused grin as she looked up at you, shaking her head, “You must hate a lot of people, then.”

You huffed with a nod, not bothering to confirm what she already knew, “Did you notice anyone suspicious coming into town these past days?”

“So, you’re a bounty hunter, then.” The old lady hummed to herself, resting her handiwork in her lap once again, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked off into the distance, “I can’t say, I don’t walk around much, but my nephew told me he’d seen men riding around just by the border as if they were scooping out the place, or something of the likes. There’s nothing much by the borders, so I wouldn’t know why they were there specifically.”

“To check the exits and set up any traps for those who would try and follow.” You smirked, mentally jotting down this new piece of information. This old lady had been more useful in just a few minutes than all the cocky men you had to listen to this morning, trying to woo their way into your pants instead of sharing valuable information.

“Brilliant,” The lady huffed, shaking her head in disdain, “Tell you what, dear…but you didn’t hear it from me, alrigh’?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and then you moved closer as the woman beckoned you to her height with a wave of her hand. Your toes curled, and your heart raced in excitement at the prospect of finding out even more about the possible outlaws residing in the town, and you couldn’t help but quickly crouch down and stare at the lady with sparkling eyes full of curiosity. The old lady chuckled at your behaviour, and you almost flinched when she patted your cheek, her grey eyes running over your features.

“You’re a gorgeous one, dear, take care of yourself,” She hummed, then looked around before she leaned in too, her voice low, “Two days ago, around midnight, I couldn’t sleep, so I went to smoke on the veranda. I live close to the border, and there are few houses around, yet I heard voices coming from the abandoned stable on my property. It wasn’t anyone I knew and not someone from the town. I swear on what I have most precious! There were two men, based on the different tones in voice, and they were talking about a hit—more like arguing—I couldn’t tell what the fight was about, they heavily disagreed if staying in this town was smart or not. The one with a sharper tone kept denying that they were being chased, and the other one kept pressing they’d get caught if they didn’t lay low for a bit…do what you will with this, darlin’, I don’t know more.”

The lady could only stare at your wide smirk, your body almost vibrating as your suspicions were now one hundred percent confirmed. The outlaws were in this town, you’d finally catch Kim Hongjoong, and he had no idea you were so close to putting him behind bars, taking the hefty payment you deserved after all these years of chasing after him and his band of baboons. You grabbed the lady’s hand and pressed an appreciative kiss against her knuckles before standing, grabbing the vest you had set your eyes on, “Could you hold on to this for me for a bit longer? I’ll come back for it in a few hours.”

“I leave before noon, darlin’; you better return before that!” You chuckled and tipped your cowboy hat in her direction before turning around and walking off, trying to remember where you had seen the store that looked like they had supplies you could use rather soon. You were passing just by the stall where the lady from yesterday was, and you stopped to buy some fresh bread, but your eyes caught something peculiar. There were more people around her stall, amongst them the tall and handsome man from the Inn, so she couldn’t pay attention to everyone at once. That wasn’t the issue, however; it was the shorter man sneaking pastries into his satchel bag, moving slowly yet somehow lithe at the same time. You chuckled to yourself and found yourself walking towards him, stopping right behind him, your hand shooting out to wrap around his warm wrist. The man froze, his whole body tensing up as he whipped his head around, but you couldn’t see his face well due to the cowboy hat he was also wearing. He didn’t seem much taller than you, though. You wondered for a second if you had seen him somewhere before.

“Did you think no one would notice?” You wouldn’t have meddled, but you figured the young lady needed to fend for herself and her son somehow. And if some petty thief stole some precious buns, she wouldn’t make as much as on a regular day. You couldn’t let that happen.

“Not many cares around here.” The man hissed back, his tone on the shrill side, but it was raspy as he tried to yank his wrist free. Your fingers only tightened around his skin, making you smirk when the man couldn’t exactly break free.

“Well, I do. If you don’t cause a scene, I’ll be more lenient with you.” The man scoffed, his voice filled with amusement as you saw him glancing to the side, making you look too, only to find the handsome man turning away. Your eyes narrowed as you wondered whether the two knew each other, but before you could dwell more on it, your foot was being stomped on, and you jumped back with a shout of pain. People looked your way, startled, and as if to mock you, the thief grabbed another hot bun before booking it, his laughter loud and amused as your teeth gritted, taking off after him before anyone could react. The lady’s calls sounded confused, and those who realised it was a thief you were chasing tried to help by jumping in front of the criminal, but he was fast. He was way too fast and way too light on his feet as he twisted his body almost in an enchanting way whenever someone went to grab him from the side. He was cackling still; you could hear it louder now that you were gaining on him, and he jumped over the wooden fence and turned sharply to the left, scurrying down an empty, muddy street.

You hissed under your breath and jumped the fence too, your feet almost tangling when you landed again, your pace thrown off. You weren’t too athletic despite chasing criminals for a living, and you cursed the petty thief as he pushed barrels over to make it harder for you to chase after him. But you weren’t giving up; your quick thinking got you jumping on crates and over the rolling barrels, and your eyes locked in on the chain hanging from a building. You didn’t even consider whether it could hold your weight as you lunged for it, your hands tangling into the hot chains, your body swinging in the air as you kicked your legs back and sent yourself forward. The man had glanced back while you were in the air, completely missing that you were mostly above his head now, and slowed his run into more of a strut. You grinned in triumph as you timed your jump smartly, the chains rattling loudly as you released them and kicked forward, making the criminal raise his head jerkily. You had just a few seconds to take in his features, at least what was visible since the lower half of his face was covered by a bandana, his cowboy hat disguising the upper half of his head. His eyes, however, somehow managed to burn into the back of your mind despite the brief glance into them.

They were sharp, small, attentive, and so much cat-like that it made you wonder whether the man had grown up with cats and bizarrely started taking after them. They were pretty eyes, a dark brown that felt like it burned your own ones before the man twisted around and tried to make a run for it again, but your feet were already colliding with his back, sending him harshly to the ground as you tumbled just a little to the side of him, your groan matching his. Your right elbow throbbed as you landed on it funny, but when the man tried to get up, you kicked into action again and got onto his back, straddling him and pinning him to the dirty ground by the hips. He hissed and tried to throw you off, but you knew how to distribute your weight, so he was rendered motionless. It was hilarious to watch him try to fight you off until, suddenly, he went stiff.

“What? Is that it all?” You mocked, your tone laced with amusement, “You looked like you had more fight in you.”

The man didn’t answer much to your dismay, it wasn’t fun if your hostage wasn’t a bit sassy. You noticed the man didn’t have a weapon on him, at least not visible, and his dark blue shirt’s sleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms due to the heat. His vest was old, much like yours, and it hugged around his pretty waist, his trousers a dark brown and soft under your fingertips as you found yourself lightly grazing the fabric. You stopped when you realised you were being a creep, but there was a sudden pull to the man that made you want to touch him. It was peculiar…you mostly liked staying away from male specimens, unless it was Sheriff Jeong, but this one got your interest piqued for an unexplainable reason. You gulped and grabbed the strap of his satchel bag, yanking it a bit and making the man groan. His hands were pressed to the ground, and he was motionless still, his head turned to the side, but you couldn’t see his profile due to his cowboy hat.

“You’ve got something here that you’ll be returning.” You said as you yanked on the strap again, making the man gruff out something under his breath. Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes narrowed, and you leaned just a bit closer, “What was that?”

The man said something lowly again, and you were getting irritated by his lack of answer…at least one that you could hear, “Speak up, cowboy, or did you bite your tongue during your fall?”

“I said, I’d like to see you try, skivvy.” Your eyebrows furrowed at the blatant insult, your anger exploding inside you out of nowhere. You were good at controlling yourself, but this just felt absolutely uncalled for and way too derogatory, coming from a criminal. You huffed, loudly and clearly offended, clenching and unclenching the fingers of your right hand, debating whether you should punch the man to teach him a lesson. But he spoke up before you could make a choice, “What? No more mocking?”

And as you sucked in air through your teeth, deciding to punch the man, indeed, his head suddenly flew backwards while his hips kicked up strongly, and you were thrown off balance as the back of his head collided with your forehead. It didn’t hurt since he was wearing the hat, and you weren’t too close to his head, but it was enough to jostle you off the man. Suddenly, your whole world was spinning as your back hit the ground hard, weight settling over your hips as the sharp eyes were now staring down at you, obscuring the blistering sun. You realised your cowboy hat was knocked off in the ordeal, the man’s fingers twisted into the hair on the back of your head, not tugging, but warning enough. His other hand had your collarbones pressing down, and you grabbed his wrist, glaring up at him.

“You must be so proud of yourself right now.” Your tone was sarcastic as the man chuckled under the bandana covering his face, and you could see the blatant amusement dancing in his eyes. You would bet on your cowboy hat that he was smirking, too.

“You aren’t the smartest pea in the pond.” Another low blow that got your blood pumping faster, nostrils flaring from anger.

“What makes you smarter? You literally needed a distraction to free yourself.” You fired back, your jaw clenching. For some reason, freeing yourself was a distant thought in your mind, even though it would’ve been comically easy. He didn’t restrict your hands, you could punch him, scratch him, even try and push him off.

“Right, and all you needed to free me was a distraction.” Well, that spurred you into action, your fist rising, but he caught your flying hand before it could fully raise. He tsked under his bandana, and you felt your cheeks heat up from both annoyance and embarrassment. This hadn’t happened before; men rarely managed to outsmart you or even overpower you, and what was most embarrassing was the fact that the criminal wasn’t even attempting to keep you subdued. It was your body that suddenly didn’t want to fight back, your heart racing while your muscles relaxed. To be fair, the man wasn’t making it difficult either; it was as if he found this fight amusing and was holding you still because he took pleasure in it.

“Well then, there’s nothing to brag about to your pals.” And suddenly, it felt like you were both just measuring dicks as to who was better at this and that, it was downright humiliating, but your mouth wouldn’t shut up, “You went down embarrassingly easily, I could headbutt you right now and you’d pass out instantly.”

The man laughed, his cat-like eyes scrunching up in amusement, “Well then? What are you waiting for?”

“A distraction.” You smirked and watched as the man’s eyes narrowed at you. You bucked your hips and twisted to the side, easily throwing the man off yourself. It wasn’t even hilarious anymore, just how easy it was to get him off, but it felt as if he wasn’t really trying to fight you. And why was that? You threatened to hand him to the Sheriff of the town, did he think he could get away with it? But he recovered quickly; he was up on his feet in a blink, and you were moving too, not about to let him go. You caught his arm and twisted it around, pinning it to his back as you held the man’s chin from behind, his back pressed to your chest.

“I have to admit,” The man’s voice was lower, filled with amusement and poorly timed seduction, “I’ve never been manhandled by a woman before. It’s kinda hot.”

“Shut up,” You hissed, looking for the rope usually around your waist to tie criminals up in situations like this one.

“Looking for this?” The man sing-songed, and your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up again, his left hand holding the exact rope that should’ve been on your waist. That, however, wasn’t exactly what got your heart racing while your ears rang loudly, blood going cold. Chasing a criminal was inked under the man’s fair skin on his forearm, as clear as day, glaring back at your gaping expression, “See? You shouldn’t discredit me so much, darlin’.”

“Shut up.” You hissed, snapping yourself out of your delusional thoughts as you wondered whether it was him. But there was no way this man right in front of you was your soulmate. Jostled by the thought, you pushed him forward and watched as he braced himself before he could fall into the building’s stone wall, quick on his feet as he turned around. You were about to say something, you should’ve said something, but you were instead gaping at him, plotting how to rip his bandana off. The man wasn’t moving either, for some reason, he was closely watching your expression, his eyes landing on your covered forearm. You were smarter than him with that, at least. An explosion resounded in the distance, and you both jumped, your eyes wide when you realised it had come from the market.

“Would you look at that?” The man laughed, tipping his cowboy hat forward before he winked, “That’s my cue to go.”

And before you could lunge for him, he was already sprinting back down the way you had come, and for some reason, you didn’t chase after him. You looked down at the ground and bent down to grab your cowboy hat and rope, wondering whether the man you had just caught might have been your soulmate. Your gut twisted oddly, and you gulped, your jaw clenching as you took the way you had come, going back to the market to find out what the explosion was all about. At least you could’ve snatched his satchel bag to return all those hot buns.

           Your heart raced as you sprung up from the bed, eyes falling on the open window. You had forgotten to close it last night, and now your skin was covered in goosebumps as a chilly breeze blew inside. It had gotten significantly colder yesterday evening, making you cosy up underneath the blanket, your body tired from the day you’ve had. Your forehead was covered in a sheen layer of sweat, and you tapped it down with your arm, slowly realising that your forearm was burning. You lowered your arm and turned it around, staring at the inked words unblinking. Bank robbery. You gulped, suddenly feeling a hollowness in your chest as your eyebrows furrowed. The outlaws that were in this town…so was it one of them? Your soulmate—was it one of the outlaws? You gulped, your heart suddenly racing as you threw the blanket over your feet and sat on the edge of your bed, caressing your skin gently. In moments like this one, you wished your soulmate was a country boy, a farmer, a simple mine worker, anything but a criminal. What you did for a living didn’t mesh well with your soulmate’s profession, and you knew Sheriff Jeong would never understand you.

His soulmate was an outlaw too, judging based on the inked words on his inner forearm, and he had loathed his partner before even meeting them. You, on the other hand, couldn’t share the sentiment. You were displeased, of course, you were, but you’ve spent your whole life lonely and watching couples from afar, wondering what it felt like to finally find your soulmate, to reunite with them for an eternity. Nobody would’ve guessed, but deep down, you dreamed of a romance like in the old folk tales. You wished to be madly in love, blinded by it to the point that you couldn’t breathe if your soulmate wasn’t next to you. You winced as the ink felt like it was splitting your skin in two, making you wonder what was causing such a reaction since it’d never happened before. You knew today would be a long day, and you also knew you had to face the consequences of your soulmate’s actions. You knew you had a hard decision ahead of yourself, but you prayed to any existent deity that your soulmate wouldn’t be the worst of the worst. Maybe he was part of the outlaw gang you’ve been chasing, maybe he was just a local from this town, trying to make amends. Committing so many crimes wasn’t an excuse, but if he was doing it to fend for himself and his poor family, you’d let it slide. With a heavy sigh, you dragged yourself off the bed and went inside the bathroom, well aware of your next step.

The market had been a mess of panicked people by the time you had reached it yesterday, but you were glad to hear nobody was injured. Someone had set fire to an unoccupied table before the first small granite had gone off, making a store’s windows explode since it was ignited right underneath it. The old lady was shaken when you had checked in with her, and you decided to accompany her home after you bought more bread than was necessary from the lady with the little boy. You had searched for the handsome stranger’s face in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen, much like the thief you’ve had the chance to catch but hesitated. You weren’t pleased with yourself, but your body had refused to cooperate when you needed it most. Now, however, you knew what was the right thing to do. You didn’t want to draw even more attention to yourself, so after a quick trip to the stable to make sure Carlos was still there, healthy and safe, you took off on foot towards the Bank. It was rather close since it was in the heart of the town, and you had decided to stake out in front of it, sitting at a cafeteria.

Their coffee was overpriced and not as good as back in your town, but it would do for now. You weren’t here to enjoy a cup of coffee, after all, but to keep your eyes on the Bank and observe who came and went. You had an eye for telling the locals and newcomers apart; it was their way of dressing and conversing, of looking at ease, versus the gorgeous man with red hair who looked fidgety as he walked towards the Bank. He was wearing rather hand-me-down robes, trying a bit too hard to fit in with the crowd. It made him look even more obvious, and you smiled as you realised you had caught the first suspicious person. He walked inside the Bank, and you wondered whether it was him or not, subconsciously rubbing your forearm. You wore no sleeves today, and you made no effort to cover your arm up. It was time you faced whatever the Universe had in store for you if you came across your soulmate.

You took a sip of your coffee just as a large horse galloped right into the middle of the square, coming to a stop in front of the Bank. You realised with elation that it was the handsome man from the Inn, his sharp eyes narrowed as he surveyed the place. You quickly lowered your head and pretended to be interested in the newspaper by your cup of coffee, having forgone your cowboy hat today as you knew it would attract unwanted attention. You kept your leather pants, however, and borrowed a sleeveless shirt from the pretty girl behind the bar. She was rather eager to lend it to you after you offered her a soaring kiss, one she certainly wouldn’t forget. When you deemed it safe to look up again, you realised the handsome man was moving on, the redhead having just left the building. Your eyes narrowed, and you watched as a short-haired buff man approached your target, throwing an arm around him and casually walking off with him. You were determined to sit there all day long if it meant catching the outlaws red-handed, but that thought was quickly changed when a motorcar pulled up in front of the Bank, its engine running loudly.

A rather tall man with gorgeous long black hair stepped out, keeping the door open for someone…and your eyes widened. It was the same man from the market, the thief, the one you had chased! Your heart lurched, and your hand shook as you loudly placed your porcelain cup on the small plate, leaning forward in your seat as if that would help you see the two men better. They didn’t seem to exchange any words between each other, just a nod of a head before the long-haired man confidently walked up to the Bank’s entrance, smiling gratuitously as the door was opened for him, the other one sneaking off to the side of the building. Something in your gut told you to get up and go after the shorter one, his outfit almost the same as yesterday except that his vest was missing and an obvious pistol was lodged in his pants against his lower back. You stood and left your unfinished cup of coffee behind, making sure the road was safe as you crossed it in a run, keeping your eyes on the thief. He walked down the narrow alleyway, his gloved fingers tracing the wall before he turned the corner, making you hurry up since you didn’t know what the back of the building hid.

You made sure your steps were light and silent, and you found your fingers tracing the same spots the criminal had too, your cheeks flushing red in embarrassment. You yanked your hands away and let them lay limply by your sides as you pressed up against the building to peek around the corner. The man was smoking, a tobacco dangling from his lips, but you couldn’t see his face since his cowboy hat was pulled down low again. Much like you, he hadn’t bothered hiding his forearm, and you had a burning curiosity to know what the ink said. You flinched as a door you hadn’t noticed was there was thrown open, the hiss of a voice beckoning your target inside. The man chuckled and didn’t bother putting out his tobacco, and you were quick on your feet as the door started shutting quickly behind the man. You managed to wadge your foot inside before it could close, and realising you probably didn’t have much time to act, you flung the door open as you took a deep breath. Almost as if the man sensed he was being followed, he was leaning against a table facing the door, tobacco put out and a smirk on his red lips. You froze, your heart nervously skipping a beat, and the man chuckled.

“You are not as sleek as you think you are, bounty hunter.” You gulped, watching the man as he chuckled under his breath. You felt like you couldn’t speak, too focused on the burning sensation of your arm and the racing of your heart, “Mingi saw you leaving this morning and figured something wasn’t right. You have a pretty pistol, but it screams Sheriff.”

And he was right, Sheriff Jeong had gifted it to you many years ago. It was custom-made and expensive, resembling the one most officers used. You gulped, suddenly not as brave as you used to be. The criminal, however, seemed to have more to say, “We met yesterday too, thanks for not turning me in. Those buns were delicious, by the way. Did you get some for yourself?”

Your jaw clenched, eyes narrowing, “No, because you stole them all.”

The outlaw chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, “What can I say…I have six mouths to feed.”

“Is the food at the Inn not good enough?” You quirked an eyebrow, suddenly realising why he had seemed familiar yesterday. The day you had arrived in town and had gone up to your room, the man leaving the one across from yours had been this man, the outlaw. All this time, he was right under your nose. You felt your heart rate rise in anger, your fists clenching by your sides.

“Meh, I’ve certainly had worse.” The man pushed off the table, fearlessly stalking towards you, “But what’s the fun in following the rules? I love a little chaos.”

“I know.” The words slipped out your mouth before you could catch yourself. Did you know? Something in your gut told you that yes, you did know, you’ve known your whole life.

“You do?” The man raised an eyebrow, stopping a few inches in front of you. Tackling him to the ground would be easy, but your body refused to move just yet, “How come?”

“How do you know I’m a bounty hunter?” You answered his question with a question, your heart racing as you could see the man’s lips pull into an amused smirk. You were itching to see his whole face, your fingers trembled at the thought of knocking his cowboy hat back to see his face. You gulped, waiting for his answer as the man shrugged, tilting his head slightly.

“I’ll call it a hunch, I guess.” And then, you gasped as he jumped forward all of a sudden, pressing you up against the door. You hadn’t expected him to attack you, but you finally snapped out of your frozen state and took action. You yanked your head to the side as his fist came towards your face, slightly thrown off guard that he could so easily punch a woman. Perhaps he saw it on your face because he chuckled, his left hand tightening around your bicep, “My apologies, sugar, did you think I didn’t hit women?”

“My mistake for considering you a gentleman.” You hissed under your breath and took a left swing at his face, which he easily dodged. It felt just like yesterday, with pointless punches thrown at each other with no intention of harming the other. Your body had never acted on its own like this before, and you wondered why it was happening now of all times.

“Never mistake an outlaw for a gentleman, sugar.” The man chuckled as you managed to free your left arm and elbowed him in the neck, the man making a choked-up sound. You shook him off yourself and went to kick his legs out of underneath him, but he managed to avoid your kick even as he clutched at his neck. Your next punch, however, he couldn’t deflect as he was busy getting his breath back, and his head flew to the side, knocking his cowboy hat off. You didn’t wait for him to recover as you got behind him and pushed him, throwing your arm around his neck once he was hunched over, putting him in a headlock. The man’s eyes were wide as he grabbed your arm, his nails digging painfully into your exposed skin. You turned your head, needing to see the face of the man, only to freeze in shock.

“Kim Hongjoong?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but your faces were so close next to each other that he heard you. He chuckled, gulping hard as his eyes fell on your face, a satisfied smirk still on his lips.

“Surprise, sugar, no bounty hunter’s managed to catch me before.” You felt speechless as you felt all of your hard work finally come to fruition. You had Kim Hongjoong in your arms, at your mercy, your pockets full of coins that would last you and the next generation if you spent it wisely once you handed the criminal over to the Sheriff, “Close your mouth before a fly flies inside.”

Your cheeks burned, and you felt your arm lightly soften against his neck, but then you quickly snapped out of it and willed yourself to focus. The man was gorgeous; none of those sketches did his beauty justice. His sharp features weren’t as intimidating as the handsome stranger’s from the Inn—who was part of his outlaw band, now you realised—but his eyes held danger, a promise of pain and unforgiveness. You gulped, tracing his nose and red lips, your eyes lingering on them, and you felt your tongue poking out to wet your own lips. The outlaw, Hongjoong, hummed to himself and touched your cheek with his left hand, making you jump.

“Bank robbery.” You heard him whispering, his eyes glancing down at the forearm exposed to him since you had him in a headlock with your left hand, “Peculiar, isn’t it?”

You gulped nervously, your heart racing even faster as you allowed your eyes to fall onto his own exposed forearm now that his arm was outstretched, his fingers grazing your cheek. Finally catching the outlaw. You gasped and pushed Hongjoong away, a coldness seeping deep into your bones despite the scorching hot air inside the dimly lit room. Hongjoong looked at you apprehensively, watching you as if you were a rabid animal, analysing your features and body language. You didn’t know what to do or how to react; it all felt too much, too overwhelming. Why did you have to be right? Where was Sheriff Jeong to make fun of your fate and tell you it was just a joke all along? Why was Kim Hongjoong your soulmate, and why did your body yearn so desperately for his touch again? It felt hard to breathe as your eyes filled with tears, and you didn’t want to break down, but it suddenly felt like you weren’t so alone anymore.

“Oh, don’t cry, sweetheart.” And when you felt arms around your body, you started crying hard, your body shaking with sobs as your fingers curled into his shirt, squeezing Hongjoong to yourself, “It’s alright, I’m here now.”

“You’re a terrible person.” You managed to get out as you were still crying, blinded by the tears in your eyes as you tried to look at his face, “You steal from people, you hurt others, you’ve killed too, I—and I had to sit through all of that, wondering all this time why was I fated to a man like you. Why is it you, Kim Hongjoong? I was supposed to bring you back to the Sheriff, I was supposed to get rich off of you—I—I’ve been chasing you for so long, it’s unfair!”

Your tears subsided as your anger won over, and you pushed Hongjoong away, staring at him with a glare as his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowing, “I’ve been wondering too why I was fated with someone who wanted to catch me, harm me perhaps, hand me over to live a miserable life.”

A deafening silence fell over the two of you as the realisation settled in that Hongjoong might’ve been feeling the same conflicting emotions as you were. Your heart raced in the excitement that you had finally found your soulmate, finally feeling complete, but your brain told you that you could still come out of this victoriously, that you could hand him in and live a life alone…it’s what you were used to after all.

“It’s not too late to walk away,” Hongjoong muttered quietly, caressing the ink on his skin, his gulp loud, “We won’t harm you if you leave us alone, I promise—”

“Are you telling your own soulmate to walk away? To leave you alone after I finally found you?!” Your voice was rising in anger, and Hongjoong flinched, glancing behind you.

“Let’s keep it down or else we’ll be discovered,” He suggested and took a step closer, his eyes analysing your face once again. You gulped when he didn’t stop approaching you and almost flinched when he reached out, his warm fingers grazing your cheek again, “Don’t you hate me?”

“I hate what you are and that you’ve made me chase you for so long that I was forced to be alone for thirty years.” You whispered, eyebrows furrowing as Hongjoong’s fingers traced your eyebrows down to your nose, under your eyes and then your lips, his gulp loud.

“You’re beautiful,” He whispered with a smile, stepping even closer to you, your faces just a breath away, “Come with me, learn my world, let me show you the brighter side of it.”

“That’s not who I am, Hongjoong.”

“No? Then who are you?”

You gulped, letting the question settle in your mind. Who were you? What did you have besides Sheriff Jeong and a house you had forcefully claimed as yours? You were nothing but a lonely woman hunting down criminals because it filled your time and distracted you from the void in your chest, a void that was no longer eating away at your heart.

“Promise you’ll never leave me. Promise you’ll keep me safe,” You gulped, already dreading the sudden twist of your future. Were you doing the right thing right now? Was this the smart choice? “Promise you’ll never hurt Sheriff Jeong.”

“I promise to keep you safe and never leave you, not now that I’ve found you.” Hongjoong chuckled then, cupping your jaw gently as shouts came from behind the door. You tensed, but Hongjoong didn’t seem phased by it, “And I won’t hurt Sheriff Jeong, even though I wonder who that is…”

“Not just you, your whole gang.” Your eyebrows furrowed as Hongjoong traced your bottom lip with his thumb, smirking at himself.

“Okay, fine, no one will hurt the Sheriff.” You hummed, eyes widening when Hongjoong closed the distance and pressed his warm lips against yours, tasting like the homemade meal your mother used to make that you loved so much. Hongjoong felt like home, like coming home after a long day and falling into your bed, knowing it always had your back, always would be there for you. These comparisons felt silly as you kissed him back, fingers tangling in his black hair, but they were everything you’d always wished for.

A sudden explosion outside made you yelp, and Hongjoong smirked, letting go of you to grab his cowboy hat, extending his hand for you to take, “Well, that’s our cue, sweetheart. We better get going before the Sheriffs get here.”

You knew Sheriff Jeong would hate you for an eternity for accepting the outlaw’s extended hand, but there was nothing you could do when your soulmate was grinning at you with mischief and wickedness in his eyes, so confident and proud as your fingers intertwined.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY & BVIDZSOO 2025 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating our work is not allowed.

[pretty-little-mind33]

chaser!James Potter x chaser!fem!reader

Summary: James is threatened by how good you are at Quidditch which means he hates you. And what emotion is closer to hate than love?

Genre: Angsty Fluff, 'rivals' to lovers <3

Warnings: James is seriously a dick in the beginning, teasing, slight bullying, swearing, fighting, social class differences, reader is an only child, didn't really understand how Quidditch Captains are appointed but bare with me <3

~ finally finished this! loved this ask anon! thank you, my lovely! ~

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

James Potter is sprawled across the large, maroon, couch in the center of the Gryffindor Common room, his arms draped over the cushions as his legs lay across Sirius Black's lap.

Sirius, who would probably mind more if he wasn't as drunk as his best friend. 

"I mean, fuck me, she wasn't even that good and McGonagall saw her and still looked at her like she'd just hung the moon in the sky!" James exclaims, his ears burning as he recalls Quidditch tryouts that morning. 

He's pissed. 

"You're just annoyed that she just started and now has a chance at Captain because Mini liked her so much," Sirius points out, which earns him a harsh swat on the top of his head.

James's face sours and he restrains himself from whining like a petulant child. Sirius was right, he was mad because you gave him a run for his money and no one has done that until now. 

This was supposed to be his year. McGonagall loved him (mostly)! The Captain position was basically promised to him since his second year and now you've come around and ruined this for him! 

"She's seriously not even that good, it's infuriating," James lies and looks around the small gathering they're having. He knows everyone can hear him but he doesn't care. "And she's so fucking annoying," he sounds bitter, "she's always talking everyone's ears off— and have you seen her stupid hair? She wore those fucking space buns just to make herself look cute, I swear!" He lifts himself off the couch for a moment, his arms raising in exasperation, and then lets out a sigh. 

"That is usually the reason girls do their hair, James, yes," Remus interrupts from the floor where he's reading his book, his back leaning against the couch. 

"Shut up," James grumbles and slumps back down. "I don't want her on the team. She's a nuisance already." 

"Speaking of," Peter adds, his voice smaller as he glances towards the stairs to the girls' dorms. James whips his head around and his eyes narrow. You're walking towards the small gathering with some friends. 

You're dressed in a Quidditch sweater that is only slightly oversized as the sleeves cover your hands. You're blissfully unaware of how much James Potter hates you so when you see him staring, you assume he wants to talk to you. You liked his company during tryouts. He was funny.

You'd always found him funny. 

So, you walk over with a smile and James struggles to sit up. He's very obviously sloshed. 

"Hello, Potter," you say and your smile widens. "This is Jane and that's Gabrielle," you introduce your friends. "I enjoyed try-outs, you were amazing. If I'm honest, I've always admired you during games. You're so talented," you feel yourself rambling but you're smiling too much to stop yourself, "I'm so happy we're gonna be on the same team now! I think we should–" 

James cuts you off, a mean smirk on his lips as he looks at his friends and the students around you, "What did I say? A little chatterbox this one is," he quips, not completely unaware of how harsh his words are even in his drunken state. 

Your hands fall at your sides, and the wind feels like it's been knocked from your lungs at his words when you realize he's making fun of you. You look at your friends and they stare at James with pronounced frowns.

"Oh," you whisper, but then you add, "That's not very nice, Potter." 

A little surprised you'd had the guts to stand up to him, James retorts instantly. "Yeah? Is it now, Y/l/n?" He sounds mocking again and you don't understand why. 

Your friends pull on your sleeve. "C'mon, Y/n, he's a prick," they turn you around, feeling how hurt you are as they walk away from James and his friends. 

"Classy, James, real classy," Remus mutters under his breath. 

And as awful as sober James might admit it is, he feels like he'd won something against you. 

* * *

You can't understand why James seems to hate you as much as he does. 

You've never been mean to him or done anything to harm him— on the contrary, you've only ever spoken highly of him and you know you've made a point of showing him that you trust him as a player when you're practicing. You want him to trust you too. 

And still, James hates you and he makes that very clear. 

He turns anything into a competition when it comes to you and it's obvious he takes pleasure in making you feel like shit.

As the days turn into weeks, you feel hopeless and even now you find yourself sitting alone on the grass during breaks, adjusting your uniform so you look busy as you hold in your tears. 

You can hear James's cruel whispers about you to your teammates, purposefully creating rifts between you and them so you'll feel even more alone.

"She's so desperate," James's mockery causes another ache in your stomach and you chew on your lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood. You try not to listen to him as the whistle blows and the practice game starts again. 

You're not on James's team this time–which means he either ignores you completely or targets you over anyone. As he hovers near you, you realize this morning it's the latter. 

Maria Baker throws you the Quaffle and just as she does, you can sense James coming. You avoid his shoulder just in time and, with a huff, you score into the nearest hoop.

This just infuriates James even more and ups his game—which means the next time you have the Quaffle, he flies up to your shoulder again and pushes you hard to the side. He jabs his elbow into your ribs, purposefully playing dirty. 

You wince. "O-ow, James, that hurts," you hiss, focusing on staying in the air as James rough-houses with you.

Your anger builds now and you shove him back, almost slipping from your broom as you try and defend yourself.

The Quaffle falls from your arms as James hits your shoulder with his again and you gasp. You expect him to rush to the ball and continue the game but he's furious from you shoving him so he grabs one of your braids and pulls. 

You feel yourself fall from your broom as you cry in pain and you turn your body, clutching the end of James's uniform and, with a grunt from him, you're suddenly both plummeting to the ground. 

You roll onto your stomach, falling onto James's chest as his arms automatically wrap around your back and he groans, looking up at you as you practically straddle his lap. Your head is throbbing from where he'd pulled your hair, your left braid messier than your right, and pure fury flashes in your eyes. 

You lean over James, grabbing a handful of his curls and you pull. "What the bloody hell is your problem? How do you like it, hm?! You insufferable jerk!" 

James doesn't take too kindly to this and he grabs your wrists, flipping you over so you're the one under him. His mum had told him never to hit a girl but oh does he want to hit you right now. You're staring up at him with that look he hates—the one that makes him feel all fluttery in his stomach.

You're struggling against his grip, grass in your hair. James's cheeks must be just as covered in dirt as yours are and his shoulder aches from the way he'd fallen. 

"Potter! Y/l/n!" The whistle blows and the current Captain, Ines Clarke, runs up with McGonagall behind her. She'd seen the commotion from inside and seemed more than furious as she rushed over.

Some of your teammates follow, including Sirius Black who grips James's collar and pulls him off you. You hear Sirius hiss, "Prongs!! What in Godric's name is wrong with you?!" and then McGonagall pulls your attention to her. 

Ines helps you up, looking concerned but then turns her attention to James. McGonagall walks over and when she sees the mess James has made of you, she frowns. "Are you alright, Miss Y/l/n?"

You nod, your lips pressed tightly as you see a bunch of your teammates have gathered around James as he rolls his shoulder. You look at your broom, which lies broken on the grass, and your eyes water. McGonagall senses your distress and she glances at James. 

"James Potter!" She suddenly snaps her dainty fingers and James is next to her in seconds, both hands gripping his only slightly damaged broom. 

It had been better quality than yours anyway. 

His nervous eyes dart from McGonagall to you as he takes you in. You stare at him, unable to look away from how messy you've made his naturally tousled hair and you wonder if grass and dirt stick to your cheeks just as they do to James'. 

"This," McGonagall points in between you both, "isn't how we do things here—you know this better than anyone, Mr. Potter. Your behavior is unacceptable." she reprimands him sternly and then looks at you, "and Miss Y/l/n, no matter how other teammates provoke you, you don't have the right to lay your hands on them either."

"But–" 

"No. No more buts." McGonagall ignores both your protests as she looks down at your broom. "You need to learn how to behave like a team."

She thinks for a moment. "Tomorrow morning, you'll travel to Hogsmeade so Miss Y/l/n can replace her broom. Mr. Potter, you'll help her without any complaints, and neither of you better step foot on the pitch again until you've worked out whatever this feud is." 

Your eyes widen. You want to tell McGonagall you cannot buy a new broom right now, but she clearly doesn't have anyexcuses about her new team bonding exercise. This means, much to your dismay, you end up waiting for James early the next morning, hugging your arms around you as you pick at the wool on your sweater. 

James is ten minutes late. You want to kill him. 

"Oi," his voice calls from behind you, irritatingly nonchalant. You turn and see he's also wearing his Quidditch sweater—which means you're now unintentionally matching—and a pair of casual trousers. James sends you a lopsided smirk, pushing his hands into his pockets as he sways on his feet almost awkwardly. "Why so gloomy, newb?" he mocks, the nickname rolling cruelly from his tongue.

You scrunch up your nose and spin around, walking in front of him as you clutch your purse. You don't want to give him a reaction and have him mock you the entire way into town. Instead, you both walk in silence, taking in the morning air and the sound of the birds.

Occasionally your purse will hit James's hip and he'll frown, opening to say another snarky comment until he sees a keychain; the one you have of Olive Gnats, a famous chaser from the Montrose Magpies.

"Oh, Gnats, I like her too—" he finds himself admitting before he can remind himself he hates you. 

You startle and clutch your keychain, wanting to hide it from him but then you look down and then back up at James. "O-oh, yeah, she's my favorite player. Her technique is incomparable."

"Seen her match last year?"

"'Course," you say, your tone less on edge now that you're talking about something you clearly love, and the rambling you do so much kicks in, "I would watch her every game ever since I was six years old. Have around ten posters in my room at home, some are old now but—I- I studied her moves when I would play around with my mum and dad—they also played in school—that's how they met—" You cut yourself off, James's earlier taunts ringing in your head. 

Your rambling is ignored as curiously overpowers him and James asks, "You have no siblings to play with?"

You shake your head. "Nope. Only child."

James's hazel eyes soften and he feels a funny feeling in his chest. "Oh, m-me too. Has its perks and its downfalls, y'know?" he whispers as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. His heart pounds.

The sun hits your skin just perfectly and your hair smells like cinnamon shampoo. James feels drawn to you again—just like he had in the beginning—and he wants to stop himself but when you laugh at his comment, he feels like an arrow has just shot his heart. 

"Oh yeah, it certainly does," you sound guarded again and James can't even be upset.

It's his fault you're like this around him.

He opens the door for you when you enter Quality Quidditch Supplies and the little bell rings. Instantly, you're drawn to the newest broom—displayed with polished wood and improved flying qualities—but you turn your head, knowing instantly you can't pay for a broom like that—

"Hey, look at this one," James's excitement tugs at your heart and you walk over, standing beside him as you can't help but admire the broom up close. "It feels amazing," James says as he runs his hand over the smooth wood. He's grinning. "This is the one, isn't it?"

You bite your cheek. You want it to be.

"I don't know, I–haven't seen the others," you whisper, avoiding James's eyes.

"What? What are you talking about? This one is the best by far, you aren't gonna find a better broom."

"I want to look around," you whisper, looking at the price of this broom, and your heart sinks.

"Y/n, this is ridiculous—"

"James, stop," you snap, very clearly annoyed. You can't tell if he means well by being persistent since he's only just now started to show you any form of kindness and this still feels like some cruel joke he's playing on you.

"I can't pay for this one—and the truth is I can't pay for any of these so—I- I think—" you pause, clutching at your purse desperately as you hold in tears of embarrassment. "I should tell McGonagall I couldn't find a broom I liked and I'll borrow an older one from my parents—

—plus, if I buy this one you'll just have another reason to hate me," you finish. 

Your words hit James hard as he takes in what you mean. Shame sneaks up on him instantly as he knows exactly why you would think that. It suddenly hits him just how threatened he's been and as silly as it sounds the only image in James's head is the disappointed look of his mother if she knew he had taken out his own insecurities on you. 

If Euphemia Potter knew how much of a dick he's been to you, she'd be horrified.

He looks at you closely, taking in how embarrassed you look. During tense moments with his friends, Remus had sometimes told him he was a spoiled rich boy—unaware of real struggles — and he'd always brushed him off.

Only this time, he can't unhear Remus's jab as he realizes how foolish he had been to assume anything about you.

"Oh," he whispers.

You look away at the other brooms. "I- I honestly didn't realize how expensive new brooms are. My mum and dad had gotten the other one for my eleventh birthday—I should have been more careful—" You sound sad and James's heart sinks. 

"Hey, listen, it's my fault your broom is broken. I- shouldn't have been so rough on you like I was. I'm sorry," he speaks up, sounding sincere and you look up at him, expecting a better explanation than that. 

"It's no excuse but, the truth is, I was incredibly threatened by you. You're so good, better than me even, and I really want Captain so—"

"I don't want Captain," you say instantly. "I just wanted to be on the team—"

At that point, James remembers what you'd said that night when he was piss-drunk in the Common Room. 'I've always admired you during games.' It dawns on him that you just wanted him to like you and, instead, he'd gone and seen you as an enemy. His chest hurts. 

He has never felt more like an ass than now. 

"Okay, well, um," he whispers, rubbing his nape, "Let me make it up to you then. I'll buy you the broom." James means well, he truly does, but it only makes you feel more embarrassed and you shake your head. 

"No. I don't need your pity," you say instantly as you stare at him, eyes narrowed. 

"I'm not pitying you! I'm fixing my mistake," he exclaims, his voice strained.

You open your mouth to protest when he adds, "Please."

James looks determined as he rummages through his robes for any spare change he can use and then he curses. "Shit, I didn't bring enough money," he mumbles and lifts his head, looking up at you with his puppy-like brown eyes. "I promise I'll buy it for you, Y/n. Okay? I'll make this right," he adds again and your expression softens. 

"Sure, James," you whisper, not entirely sure if you believe him. 

* * *

He did buy you the broom.

James had it wrapped neatly with a small letter signed J.P accompanied with the words, "I'm sorry," scribbled onto the parchment. 

Since that morning, he didn't ignore you anymore, he included you with the other teammates, and he played fair with you—even complimenting you sometimes. McGonagall had seen the change in dynamic and so had Ines, which she'd praised you both for.

"Good job, Y/l/n," Ines grins as she packs up her bags, "you and Potter seem to be getting on much better now." She winks and her comment passes over you as you focus on untying your ponytail, rubbing your scalp. 

The rest of the team has fallen in front of you, laughing and chatting as they walk back to the dorm. You're lost in the moment, struggling with holding your bag as you run your hand in your hair, the tightness of the ponytail was causing you a headache. 

Suddenly, you suddenly squeal when you almost trip over James—who had bent down to tie his shoes and had been separated from the group. 

He grunts and stands up, turning around and catching your arm as he steadies you. 

"Oh hey, Y/n," he grins, and then he glances at your poor bag hanging from your arm. Swiftly, he takes your bag and holds it over his other shoulder, not even commenting on the gesture. 

"Want some company walking back to the Common Room?" he asks casually.

You blow some strands away from your eyes as you look up at him, grateful for the momentary relief from your bag as the pain in your scalp subsides.

"Sure," you say, reaching for your bag but James holds it up and away from you. 

"Let me be a gentleman here," he teases.

You roll your eyes with no malice. "Hero complex much, Potter?"

He chuckles as you walk inside the school, side by side. James winks at you. "On the contrary, Y/l/n, I am the hero. Don't need a complex when you are one, y'know?"

You laugh, hearing the joking infliction in his voice as your heart feels lighter. Much to your better judgment, you've actually been enjoying James's company these last weeks, and talking to him alone like this has been even more fun. "I think you think much too highly of yourself, James." you tease him back. 

"I am wounded, Y/n." He fakes hurt as he puts a hand over his heart. 

"It's true is it not?" you say with a smirk and James narrows his eyes as you turn a corner, getting closer to the Common Room. You shrug, catching yourself. "Nothing wrong with some confidence." 

James grins, his eyes sparkling playfully as he gently nudges your side with his elbow. "You could learn a few things from me, eh?"

You frown. "Are you saying I'm not confident?"

James hums, smirking, "'M just giving you some advice, love. You have the skills now, you gotta trust yourself." You both approach the entrance and you mutter the secret word to the Fat Lady Painting and the door cracks open. You push it further with your palm. 

"Since when are you giving me Quidditch advice to make me better?" 

James turns around once he's inside and hands you your bag. "Since I realized if you can't beat them, join them," he jokes with a smile, "We're a team now, Y/n. I know I was a real dick in the beginning, but I look out for my teammates. You're my teammate, so now I look after you."

Your shoulders relax and a small smile tugs your lips. "Thanks, James," you say honestly and rest your bag higher on your shoulder, tucking some hair behind your ear as you smooth the knots a little. "I really appreciate that."

"Anytime," James whispers as you walk up the stairs to the girl's dorm. Sirius whistles from where he's sitting on one of the couches, his head leaning against the armrest as he watches you and James. Once you disappear from view, James spins around, his eyes narrowing at his best friend. 

Sirius winks and looks at James's sneakers. "This is the third time this week you've used that stupid shoelace excuse, Prongs. At this point, just stay back and ask her to walk with you, you chicken."

James's cheeks turn crimson and he walks over to shove Sirius, "Shut up." 

Sirius just laughs loudly. 

* * *

You've never felt so nervous in your life as you clutch the wood of your new, expensive, broom. The wind has picked up and everyone can tell the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor seekers are having a hard time finding the snitch. You're breathing heavily as you look around, seeing Maria—the third chaser—throw James the Quaffle. 

James easily catches the Quaffle, avoiding the Ravenclaws on his right as he swoops lower. Your adrenaline is pumping and you think you know what he's doing. You hope. You fly closer and higher to the hoops, letting James know you're open.

Your memory flashes to the beginning when he wouldn't pass you the Quaffle under any circumstances, even if it cost the team the point. He can be so headstrong and your body is buzzing as you watch him closely.

What if he doesn't throw it to you? You have the perfect shot. 

James looks at you from the corner of his eye, shoving a Ravenclaw with his shoulder to disorient them.

He could want the score for himself—but he's surrounded, he could miss.

The sound of the crowd is drowned out when you see his arm raise and he's communicating with his eyes. You nod, jumping into action as you fly closer and avoid the Ravenclaws as you catch the Quaffle and throw your arm back, throwing the Quaffle directly into the middle hoop. 

Just as you score, Oliver—Ravenclaw's seeker—catches the snitch and the whistle blows. Gryffindor was leading already and you glance at the board. It didn't matter that Oliver caught the snitch, your goal had helped secure Gryffindor the win. Cheers erupt around you and you find yourself in a trance as your feet hit the ground and you clutch your broom.

"Y/n!" Someone calls your name as the ringing in your ears dies and you feel hands wrap around your waist, hoisting you up in the air as you twirl around. A gasp escapes your lips as you clutch onto the culprit's shoulder, the cheers continuing to echo around the pitch.  

"You did so amazingly," James's excitement shines as he slowly lowers you back onto the ground, your chest brushing against his as your hands find themselves wrapped around his neck. You stare into his eyes, feeling his proximity and you suddenly feel warm and dizzy.

Has he always been this handsome?

"James." His name is the only thing your brain can think to say as he refuses to let you go. He also looks breathless and his cheeks have turned a faint shade of pink as his eyes roam over your features. 

You want to tell him a thousand things. How good he was, how you're so happy the team won, how honored you are he trusted you enough to throw you the Quaffle to make the score. You want to ask if you were more confident this time and if he's noticed your effort—but instead, any attempt at words is drowned by his lips meeting yours. 

You don't kiss him back for a moment, your hand faltering behind his neck as your fingers find the baby hairs on his nape. He feels so close and your lips part a little, kissing him back carefully as your eyes shut. 

James's hands squeeze your waist and for a moment the crowd and the team are completely forgotten until James pulls away, and the sound of cheering returns as the realization of what happened dawns on you both. 

"I'm sorry," James mutters, stepping away but he keeps a hand on you. 

"You're sorry?" you ask, your voice small. 

James hesitates, looking at you seriously and then he shakes his head. "No. I'm not sorry."

Your lips curl upwards and, still ignoring everyone around you, you pull him down by the collar of his shirt and kiss his lips again. James grins against your mouth, his heart thumps in his chest as all he can think about is you.

"Oi, no PDA on the pitch, you pervs!" Sirius's teasing voice suddenly shouts out from somewhere beside you but you're almost positive no one else is worried about you and James considering everyone's celebrating on their own.

James must feel the same because he throws up a middle finger with the hand that leaves your waist and you laugh into his mouth, reaching for his arm to stop him.

"Prick," James mutters to Sirius, "You're annoying," he adds with some playful bite. 

He turns to you and his gaze softens. "But you're lovely," he whispers, earning him the prettiest smile he's ever seen and he's never been more proud.

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese

[littlejuicebox]

My Sun, My Moon

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3 / Part 2 to my other fic Astarion talks in his sleep. Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / In game spoilers / Alludes to sexual encounters / Mentions of past trauma etc / Pretty much all fluff / It’s so sweet it’s going to rot your teeth Word Count: 2.3K Notes: This is 5/5 Days of "Star-mas!"

*takes a bow* Happy Holidays! Hope you all enjoyed!

I'm also entering this into the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 challenge under the prompt "twinkling lights."

Click here to see my master list.

-----

After Astarion’s sleep-talking gave away his little secret, you’d spent nearly every waking moment anticipating the rogue’s proposal. You were horribly, terribly wrong every time, of course. You began to think that perhaps your original assumptions were right, and that an engagement would come much later on. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready. Maybe he was just planning and thinking about the future… the frustratingly distant future. He’d ask the question when he was ready, you reasoned; in his own time and on his own terms. You could respect that.

But then, on the eve of the Netherbrain Battle’s six month anniversary, you came home to a dinner that Astarion had cooked (almost) entirely himself. Candles were lit, table settings were placed, and your lover chose an expensive wine pairing for the meal. His steak was, of course, entirely raw while yours was seasoned and cooked to perfection. You were certain you had Shadowheart to thank for your half of the meal, but you’d complimented your lover and all his efforts, nonetheless. At the end of dinner, you were quite confident that this would be the moment you’d been waiting weeks for.

“I have something to say.” Astarion murmured, lithe fingers rubbing circles on the back of your hand as he clasped it in his own.

You practically felt your soul leave your body in that moment. Oh gods, you knew what your answer would be, you knew this was coming, and yet here it was, and you were still wholly unprepared. You barely fumbled out a, “Y-yes, my love? What is it?”

“I read your mail.” Astarion responded, his eyes flooding full of guilt at the confession. He expelled a small sigh, flicking his gaze up at the ceiling and then back down to you. “Darling, I know we have been discussing this for months, but I really don’t think we should go to the Underdark. You’re getting so many outstanding offers that require you to remain in the city. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate, for god’s sakes. I know you want me to be safe from the sun… but I can’t, in good conscience, do that to you and rip you away from so many wonderful opportunities.”

“O-oh…” Your chest deflates and you catch yourself frowning for just a moment. Astarion’s brow furrows as he incorrectly interprets the cause of your sudden mood shift to be the current conversation and not the crushing disappointment you were trying to shove aside. You quickly try to move into a more neutral expression, but the rogue is already jumping into another worried explanation.

“Darling... Please hear me. I love you more than anything, and I know you better than anyone. You will not be truly happy there, of that much I am absolutely certain. These offers you’re receiving will give you multiple avenues to build the life you want…. the life we want. Imagine the good you could do with that level of influence, my love! Let me help you; I can review contracts, negotiate deals… whatever you need to ensure your success. Do not throw away so much potential on my account. I simply couldn’t live with myself if you did.”

He was right, of course. The only thing you wanted almost as much as you wanted Astarion was to continue the good work you two had been doing for Baldur’s Gate.

You sigh and nod your head, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re right, my love. I suppose it would be silly for both of us to throw away so much opportunity.”

Astarion beamed at your response before leaning over the table to plant a kiss on your lips. You smiled at the rogue when he pulled away to look at you with adoring crimson eyes. Perhaps it hadn’t been the conversation you were hoping for, but it had been a good and much needed one, nonetheless.

-----

Tonight, you and Astarion decided to take a stroll around the city. You were following the vampire’s lead, ambling around the streets as he pointed out more than a few of his old haunts. He revealed some of the difficult moments in his past as you two meandered about… more than one of the tales nearly made you cry with an overwhelm of sympathy for your lover. But you held back, knowing the elf hated eyes full of pity almost as much as he’d hated Cazador.

You noted that Astarion seemed to look back on his experience with more acceptance now. You knew, of course, that there were likely an infinite number of stories he had not yet revealed to you and perhaps never would. But you were still happy to see a bit of lightness in him as he spoke his truth. He hadn’t appeared to have one of his episodes on the entire walk, and as you pondered this, you also realized his night terrors had only occurred a handful of times this month. Such an improvement to what had been an almost daily incidence when you two originally moved in together.

Before long, you and your love arrived at the docks, where just over six months ago you’d felt as if you’d been stabbed in the gut as you watched the rays of sunlight scorch the vampire until he was forced to run for cover. But now, you two stood there hand in hand, resting in a pocket of comfortable silence. Both of you were admiring the twinkling starlight, full moon, and dark, mysterious expanse of the sea.

“The stars were so much more beautiful in the wilds… don’t you think, my sweet?” Astarion asks, his eyes filled with wistfulness as he ponders the sky.

You utter a little hum of agreement as your mind flashes to the first night in camp, when you caught Astarion reclined on his bedroll, stargazing. You turned your head to look at the rogue and remind him of the memory, but found he disappeared from your line of sight. Your vision wanders down and there he is, bent on one knee.

Oh this had to be the moment. Just when you were about to shout yes before the rogue even had a moment to say anything, Astarion looks up and smiles, a small pouch of gold coins in his hand. “Look! I suppose it’s our lucky day, darling. Their loss is our gain, would— are you alright, Tav? You’ve got this strange look on your face.”

Gods, not again. You feel your face flush with embarrassment. In your excitement and overwhelm, you’d almost ruined everything and let Astarion know that you knew his little secret. You made the decision then and there that this would be the last time you anticipated his proposal; let it happen when it’s meant to happen. You were done playing the guessing game. You couldn’t ruin everything with your big fat mouth.

You nod your head slightly before turning to look back at the stars once more, taking a deep breath and hoping to settle yourself.

“Yes, my love. I suppose I’m just thrilled by the beauty of the stars and the full moon, tonight. And by your beauty, of course.”

The rogue stands up, tucking the small sachet in his pocket. He smiles and places a soft, loving peck on the apple of your cheek before wrapping his arm around your waist. The two of you look up at the stars once more, and you spend a few moments pointing out some constellations in the sky. Stargazing had been one of the first things you two bonded over in camp.

Astarion is watching you with devoted interest as you ramble on about the planets and the mythological creatures represented by the patterns in the stars. Finally, there is a small lapse in conversation, and you want to take the opportunity to kiss him, but when you turn, the vampire is once again out of your sight line.

When you look down this time, Astarion is looking up at you, holding a velvet box in shaking hands.

“Tav—" He manages to choke out, but then his eyes fill with tears, and he stops to blink them away, chuckling softly at himself. You immediately come to kneel in front of your love, hands pressed to either side of his face, silently urging him to continue.

The vampire inhales shakily, suddenly quite overwhelmed by the extreme vulnerability he knows he’s about to lay before you. But the softness of your hands on his face grounds him in the moment and he smiles, admiring the look of utter adoration in your eyes.

A couple of tears fall over the edge of his lash line, and you immediately swipe them away with your shaking thumb. Another chuckle escapes the silver-haired elf, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“My love… I’ve rehearsed this for weeks. I’ve said it all out loud more than a thousand times, I’m sure. I’ve spent almost every opportunity in your absence practicing this. One time I even had Shadowheart pretend to be you while I rehearsed my grand speech. But now that we are here… I’ve nearly forgotten everything I wanted to say.”

You move forward to press a kiss to Astarion’s lips, your hands still shaking as you run your thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s okay, my Star. Please continue, when you’re ready… rehearsed or from the heart… I want to hear it all the same.”

Astarion nods just a fraction and inhales. The shaking hand that is not holding the ring box comes to lay atop your own hand resting on his face. Your love slowly, absently runs his thumb along the back of your palm as he gathers his thoughts. He stares into your eyes with so much love that you almost kiss him again but hold yourself back to allow him to continue.

Astarion exhales a shuddering breath and then continues in a reverent tone, as if he’s whispering a prayer, “My darling. I have lived long life. Much of it was a sad and hopeless one. When we were walking through the city, I pointed out several places where I’d encountered horrible things. Many of those things are still hard to talk about… some of it, I don’t know that I will ever be able to.”

You are crying now, from the overwhelming blend of sympathy for your little Star and palpable feeling of love in this beautiful moment. Tears begin coursing thin streams down your cheeks. Astarion wipes away the tears as they fall, though his lips start trembling from your display of emotion.

“B-but what I do know is that… in many of the places I pointed out, there are also memories of us. Of our friends. Of the time we spent together before saving the city and of the six months we’ve spent here after that. Little by little, we are taking places that only held horrible memories for me and turning them into places that hold feelings of hope and happiness.

I guess what I’m saying is that… these past six months have been the counterweight to two hundred years of misery. And I do not think I deserve you, but I cannot imagine my life without you. You are everywhere I go, everywhere I look, and every happy memory I hold in my heart. If you’ll have me… I would like to spend the rest of our lives, however long they may be, turning this city into a place of hope for us and for the people we hold dear.”

Astarion opens the box, and you gasp in true awe as he reveals possibly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. At the center is a beautiful moonstone, emitting an ethereal glow that shines brilliantly in the darkness of the pier. The setting is gold, and an intricate sunburst pattern made in smaller gems surrounds the center stone.

“Standing on the dock that day, after that long battle… I had the thought that my life was ruined when I realized I could no longer stand in the sun. I thought I might never know true happiness again. But it turns out, that was the moment my new life with you began… and you’ve opened the door to more happiness than I could’ve ever imagined for myself.

Even if I never see the sun again, I have made my peace. I would make the choices I made to be here with you, on this dock, in this moment, again and again in every lifetime. You are my sun and my moon. And my darling, it would be my honor to be your Star for the rest of time. Tav… will you marry me?”

As soon as the question comes out of your lover’s lips, you instantly push forward to crash into Astarion, enveloping the elf in an emotional kiss. You both topple over from the sheer force of your ardor, and as you do, the vampire deftly snaps the ring box closed to protect it from spilling out onto the dock.

When you finally break away, panting heavily, both your faces are thoroughly flushed with excitement. The vampire looks up at you, scarlet eyes filled with absolute devotion. You giggle and press one more soft kiss to the rouge before taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckle. “Yes, Astarion. Nothing in this life would make me happier than to share it with you.”

-----

Later that evening, the two of you are naked in bed after several rounds of vigorous celebration. You’re admiring your ring, which is still faintly glowing in the semi-darkness of your bedchambers. Astarion takes your hand and presses his lips to the ring with a small smile; his scarlet eyes closely examine the gem.

“I don’t know how it works… you would have to ask Gale. But the center stone glows when I think of you, you know.”

You blink, moving to touch the gemstone in the middle of the ring with curiosity. “But it hasn’t stopped glowing since we’ve been on the docks.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we’ve been on the docks.” Astarion replies simply, moving his hand to stroke your cheek as a gentle, good-natured laugh escapes his mouth, “Perhaps now you’ll have some insight into how often my thoughts revolve around you, my sweet.”

You feel your eyes welling with tears again. Damn this man and his beautiful heart… he truly never misses a detail when it comes to you. You move forward to pull his lips into another loving kiss, and when you break away this time, a thought crosses your mind.

“Astarion… did you really find that bag of coins on the dock?”

Your lover grins mischievously, his crimson eyes crinkling at the corners as he grabs your ring-clad hand and kisses it once more.

“No, my sweet. But I had to throw you off. Shadowheart told me about my mishap. I wanted to surprise you… but you know me far too well and you’ve never been easily fooled… and the sleepy confession didn’t help things at all. I just figured that you would never anticipate that I’d drop down on one knee twice in a row.”

Astarion knew you just as well as you knew him… and he had been right. He’d fooled you. You roll your eyes and chuckle as the rogue moves closer to you, nuzzling into the side of your neck where fresh fang marks throbbed.

“Now what do you say, darling? One more round of celebration before we go to bed?”

[kazumist]

DRUNK WORDS ARE SOBER THOUGHTS .ᐟ

✩ — in which you found yourself confessing to your childhood friend, soshiro. all thanks to the liquid courage you got.

✩ — includes: hoshina soshiro x gn!reader. fluff. cw: reader is implied to wear makeup (but i didn't really use any gendered terms haha), ooc!hoshina i think.. uhm i wrote him differently here than how i usually write him ack TT. wc: 778. one (1) pet name used (bub). reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated !!

“let’s get you home.” hoshina swings your arm over his shoulder as he places his arm around your waist to balance you in his hold. “huuuuh? have we met before?’ you ask as your words are slurred. you look at the man holding you, squinting your eyes to get a good look at him (though that doesn’t really help because nothing is really processing for you at the moment). “we’ve been literally friends since we were kids.” hoshina says.

“ehhhh? soshiro?! no way! you’re all… you’re all so grown up now!” you exclaimed. soshiro takes note of the blush on your cheeks, and the way you keep stumbling in your steps. although it’s rare, he just sighs as he confirms that you were absolutely drunk at the moment. “that’s because i ain’t a kid anymore, you silly.”

getting you back to your dormitory was a hard task, even for the vice captain of the third division. only because during your trip back you kept making random comments like how soshiro was almost as pretty as the moon (you were looking at a street lamp thinking it was the moon) and he could only hold back his laugh.

as hoshina settles you on your bed, he proceeds to remove your makeup from your face. knowing you this long was enough for him to become familiar with your routine when it comes to attending celebrations like these. he gently wipes the cosmetic products from your face, making sure to keep quiet because you finally slept.

well, apparently, you still woke up either way. “you know, hiro…” the nickname rolled off of your tongue perfectly—almost too perfectly, if soshiro must admit. only you could call him that; after all, you were the one who came up with that nickname for him anyway. you stared at him with half lidded eyes, too tired to fully open them. “you have a stupid face.” you finish.

hoshina found himself dumbfounded.

“eh?”

“but it’s my favorite face to look at.”

oh.

"i suppose i'm grateful for the compliment.” he pushes the hairs that were hiding your face aside and chuckles. “you should go home; i might do something stupid.” he tilts his side to the side in confusion. “like what?”

“like kissing you.” he froze.

surely, this is just the alcohol, right? soshiro wonders, surprised at your words as he held his breath. “or maybe i roll off of my bed and end up sleeping on the floor.” you continue. he lets out a sigh of relief. soshiro only kept his feelings for you to himself. though he’d casually make some gestures, and that’s good enough to question if you’re crossing the line between friends and lovers.

“you should sleep. you’re completely drunk right now.”

“i'm totally, absolutely not at all drunk at all. like... at all!”

“sure, and i’m not the vice captain of this division.” he receives a pout from you as you turn away from him. he laughs at your antics, gently shaking you as he apologizes. you refused to face him as you focused your gaze on the wall. liquid courage was no joke—because you somehow feel more confident to admit more... personal thoughts to the man who’s sitting behind you.

“hey, soshiro?”

“yeah? are you feeling a bit better now?”

“i… would you hate me if i said that i like you? like, you know… more than what we are right now.”

once again, hoshina froze. his breath hitched as he processed what you had asked. would you hate me if i said that i like you? your voice echoed in his head. you still refuse to face him but you know that he knows that he could see you right now. no, he wouldn’t hate you—hell, why did you think that he would hate you because of that in the first place? he would be ecstatic!

“can you face me for a minute, bub?” the pet name came off so smoothly—you were the only one he called that with. you hesitantly, roll to your other side, looking up to the man sitting on the side of your bed. you quickly avoided his gaze, but his hand pushes away your hair from your face again. “i wouldn’t hate you for that, but i’d rather not have this conversation when you’re drunk like this. so don’t forget this conversation, ‘kay? we’ll talk about it once you wake up. can you promise me to remember this, bub?”

“i promise. how could i… forget…” you trailed off. yawning in between your words before your eyes finally decided to rest themselves.

soshiro feels delighted that he has something to look forward to for tomorrow.

[pubbamoon]

The Matrix of Destiny

Hi sweeties! Hope you're doing okay. This time, I'm gonna get into a completely another topic I used to do. I want to make a post about the Matrix of Destiny and how to read this chart. It's a little bit similar as an astrological natal chart, but there's also a huge differences there. We're gonna get into that in this post. I'm gonna use my own Matrix of Destiny chart as an example.

The Matrix of Destiny is a method or a tool in esoteric practices where we can analyze and understand someone's individual life, personality, destiny, love life, career path, karma, talents etc. It isn't based on astrology, it's rather based on numerology and tarot cards from Major Arcana. There's 22 tarot cards overall in Major Arcana and they go in this order:

1 - The Magician

2 - The High Priestess

3 - The Empress

4 - The Emperor

5 - The Hierophant

6 - The Lovers

7 - The Chariot

8 - Justice

9 - The Hermit

10 - Wheel of Fortune

11 - Strength

12 - The Hanged Man

13 - Death

14 - Temperance

15 - The Devil

16 - The Tower

17 - The Star

18 - The Moon

19 - The Sun

20 - Judgement

21 - The World

22 - The Fool

If someone was born on 23rd, 24th, 25th of month and on and on, then it's crucial to add the numbers into one digit, so we get numbers such as 5, 6, 7 etc., because the numbers don't go further than 22 in the context of the Matrix of Destiny.

Now, I'm going to explain what the certain position of the Matrix of Destiny chart means.

The Center: A number at the center of a Destiny Matrix chart represents our overall personality and it's our most important number/arcana. It's also related to our comfort zone as well.

The Left Side: This number represents our external world, our first impression, presence and how people perceive us. It can also mean how people see us when they meet us for the very first time.

The Right Side: The number at the right side represents our internal world, our private life, our relationships. This part of a chart can give insight how we interact with our closest people

The Bottom Side: This part of a chart can represent our karmic tale and our past life experiences. It tells us about the side of us that we need to release in this incarnation, otherwise we'll be punished.

The Upper Side: This number represents our inherent talents, abilities and something we're naturally good at. It's about our gifts that we should share in order to achieve success in any area of life.

The Heart Sign: The number close to this sign or emoji shows what we should seek for our partner. It represents the personality of our partner and our love life.

The Dollar Sign: This number tells us about out career path and our professional life. It shows us which career is the most suitable for us in general.

While analyzing the Matrix of Destiny chart, it's essential to take a look on the state of our chakras. Each chakra has two numbers in it and one overall number and means several things.

Crown Chakra (Sahasrara): our spiritual connection and mission

Third Eye Chakra (Ajna): how we use our intuition and its state*

Throat Chakra (Vissudha): our communication and writing style

Heart Chakra (Anahata): our heart's desire, what we love to do

Solar Plexus Chakra (Manipura): our power and confidence style

Sacral Chakra (Svadhisthana): how we use our creativity

Root Chakra (Muladhara): our foundation, ancestors and stability

Summary: our life path and the balanced perspective of our life

*This text was supposed to be dark blue colored, but I couldn't put a dark blue color, so I put pink color as the alternative version.

This is what you're going to see at the end of the Destiny Matrix chart. I'm gonna explain what does all it mean.

Male Generation Lines: gifts and karma from our father's side

Female Generation Lines: gifts and karma from our mother's side

Soul Searching: our life purpose at the earlier stage of our life (mine is 14)

Socialization: our life purpose at the later stage of our life (mine is 19)

Summary: our overall life purpose (mine is 33/6)

Anyway, that's all for today. If you have some questions about this topic, drop them on the comment section and I will answer that. This is just an intro of what the Matrix of Destiny is. Hope it's understandable. Overall, have a beautiful day ahead.

Best regards,

Paky McGee