#I wish I could have known you as an adult | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ikeuverse · 3 months

Text

TWO WORLDS — p.sunghoon

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader GENRES: angst, smut, slight fluff WC: 7.6k+

WARNINGS: some swearing, alcohol consumption, controlling father, a little argument. sex on the kitchen worktop, quick female masturbation, unprotected sex (pack before use, and do it safely!!!), cumming inside, sunghoon is too soft for now, i think that's it. lmk if i missed anything.

SYNOPSIS: you and sunghoon have known each other since university, but you belong to different worlds. that wouldn't be a factor that would prevent you and him from getting together, if it weren't for the fear of confessing to each other and, when that happened, you wouldn't be able to tell him that you were going away… to another country.

NOTES: i went through so many plots until i ended up with this one. it was my work after more than a month of writer's block, so i can't say if i'm satisfied with it or not. but at least it helped me write something. all feedback is appreciated, so i hope you like it!

part 2 | masterlist

You thought it would be a good idea to go into the bar even though you had cried for countless hours before being there. Hesitating in that particular place wasn't something new for you, after all, it was where your friends met every Friday night.

You just happened to be there alone and in the middle of a Wednesday. The stress of your daily life and the weight you were carrying for fulfilling the wishes of your self-centered and petty father only made your mind spin and you succumbed to an absurd urge to drop everything and run. And you ran to the bar you knew so well. But not because you needed a drink urgently – although you knew the alcohol would be consumed somehow – but because someone there was your refuge at times like these.

Park Sunghoon was the owner of the best-known and most popular bar. Because he was the epitome of beauty, kind, and polite even in a sea of people who were completely drunk and came to that place looking to dance, rub themselves, and wind up with someone. But he was also known as your best friend since university and the guy who stole your heart.

It was hard not to fall in love with Sunghoon when he treated you so well from the moment you and he shared a few classes. When he brought you a steaming cup of coffee twice a week from his grandfather's coffee shop because you'd been there once and said you liked it. How did he remember that? You wondered every time you took a sip of the drink. But Sunghoon only thought, how could he forget?

All the details surrounding you were hard to forget and he came to realize that this was part of the little feeling that was going on between the two of you, even though Sunghoon was afraid to ask you out. Not because it would ruin the friendship, he was very forward-thinking and knew that neither you nor he would be able to do that because it was something beyond what the two of you shared. But because the worlds in which you and he lived were completely different.

You were studying to improve your knowledge and take over your father's company. You wore social clothes, high heels, and the most expensive imported perfumes so that you could meet your father's clients, who would be yours in the future, while you drank expensive wine and listened to banal conversations. At the same time, Sunghoon studied to understand how the corporate world worked, and business and to be able to take over his grandfather's coffee shop. When he passed away, he left it in his name and turned it into the bar it is today. Wearing shabby clothes, torn jeans, and blouses stained with all kinds of drink and food that he had already lost count of.

The coffee shop would have been very welcome if he was still a university student looking for a part-time job just to make some extra money, but with the end of university and a life full of bills and supporting himself, a bar would make a lot more money because he was now an adult. And adults liked alcohol, loud music, and a lot of flirting.

That's what he thought when he changed everything, from the paintings on the wall to the name of the establishment. His best friends became his partners to help run the bar and that's what helped him get a bit more of a head start on sales and popularity. Because they were well-known people at the university, and with Sunghoon being part of the soccer team and the popular kids, this consequently attracted many people who studied with them to become regular customers there.

You and your friends were one of them. Although you also liked to go to see Sunghoon and his best friends who were also your friends. That's why Fridays became a casual get-together for your group of friends.

But it wasn't today and that made you a little more apprehensive and tearful because it was the first time you'd been to the bar alone. You didn't go in with a friend or one of the boys waiting at the door to take you to the table they'd booked for the night.

Your steps were dragged and nervous as you passed people, bodies sweaty and dancing. Loud conversations as you heard someone cursing a soccer team from last night, another group of friends talking about kissing someone at the next table. You focused on every corner even though you didn't want to focus on anything and just went to the bar, lucky if any of the boys were there.

As soon as you finally got close, a few more steps and you'd be near the counter, but not before stopping and taking a look. Quickly sniffling to try to keep away the tears that were still collecting in your eyes because you didn't want any of your friends to see you cry. If you were lucky, the light in the bar would be so dark that it would camouflage your true face and you could make up an excuse and say that you just stopped by to say hello because you were nearby.

Your hands were hesitant as soon as you touched the counter in the empty space when a couple walked away after picking up their drinks and heading for the dance floor.

"Hello, welcome. What can I do—" Jay was one of Sunghoon's best friends and very much your friend too, not least because he was your best friend's boyfriend "Y/n?" his eyebrows arched in surprise and a small smile appeared on his lips as soon as he saw you.

"Hi, Jay" you tried your best not to sound shaky, although you knew that the volume of the music would mask your true feelings.

"What are you doing here?" he looked at you and then around "Is Stella or the girls with you?"

"No, no. I came alone" you pulled up a stool to sit down, your hands resting on the marble of the counter and your eyes darting to the numerous bottles behind Jay before you focused your gaze on him.

"Did you come for a drink?" he followed your gaze as you turned away momentarily, noticing that you were staring at the whisky bottles. After turning back to you, Jay sighed when you nodded slightly "On a Wednesday?"

"Are you monitoring me, Jongseong?"

"Ugh, I hate it when you all call me that, you sound like you're mad" he snapped and walked over to the side of the whisky bottles. Pulling out a bottle and a shot glass, Jay slid it in front of him and filled some of the contents.

Your eyes flicked to the label, slowly reading Hennessy. The brand was known to you, it was one of the whiskies your father used to drink. Feeling the burning sensation he supposedly felt every time he drank made you shiver, not from the alcohol itself, but from thinking about your father at that moment.

"Thank you" you said to Jay as soon as he held out the glass to you. A small smile captured his lips as you turned the glass over in one go.

"For God's sake, Y/n, take it easy" he warned "If you're having a bad day, this will only get worse."

"One more, please" you tried to ignore his caution. Jay just rolled his eyes and took the empty glass from your hand, filling it much less than the first shot.

Then the second, third, and fourth he didn't even want to say much. Although he had already put a glass of water in with the glass of whisky he had poured for you. Jay's silent request is for you to have at least a little more water next time.

You could protest and grumble at how overprotective he was, remembering how he was with Stella in the first place. Then with you and your other friends because, according to Jay, anyone who looked after his girlfriend also deserved to be looked after. That's why he was so protective and nice to you.

But this overprotection was nothing compared to Sunghoon's with you, and for a second your mind switched off from the fact that he could be there and would show up at any moment. You just didn't realize that it would be abruptly, knocking the glass out of your hand and slamming it against the counter.

"You've had too much to drink" didn't take a genius or being drunk enough to register Sunghoon's voice entering your ears. You only refused to turn towards him, but you felt the boy's presence right behind you.

"I think I'm a customer here today, so Jay, please" you ignored the fact that the glass was next to Sunghoon's hand and pulled it out to hand it to Jay.

You couldn't register his expression when he saw you pick up the glass, because your body was turned just in time along with the stool you were sitting on. Facing Sunghoon, who lowered himself to the level of your face.

"You're going home, right? I'll drive you" he said.

"Nope" you muttered back.

"We're not having this conversation here, Y/n."

"And nowhere else" your pout almost made him give in and lean forward to kiss you, but Sunghoon held back, his hands squeezing the upholstery of the seat you were sitting on and slowly rubbing the side of his thumbs against your leg.

He opened his mouth to say more, to force you out of there, or to make fun of the fact that he had been watching you for a while as you drank and talked to Jay while he served other people at the bar. He wanted to tell you more, to say that his heart was racing with worry because you were never one to drink like that and it was strange to see you so resistant. But all his words fell flat when Sunghoon looked deep into your eyes and saw you crumble.

You let the tears fall freely down your cheeks and the urge to sniffle and sob that you'd been holding in all night now surfaced when he wrapped his arms around you to hold you against his chest.

"Jay, you can take over here, right?" he asked.

"Sure, go ahead, mate" Jay said "Call me if you need anything, me and the boys will lock up here and run to you two."

You could imagine the sad smile Jay was giving Sunghoon to try and comfort him as he lifted you off the bar stool and walked with you through all those drunk people until he left. Still holding you against him for fear that someone might touch you or that you might disappear from his sight, Sunghoon didn't want anything to happen to you.

"Did you come by car?" he asked when the two of you arrived outside. The icy wind didn't even tickle your body because you were so immersed in Sunghoon's arms that you couldn't feel anything.

Pointing in the direction of the parking lot, he pulled you along with him until he was able to locate your car without too much effort.

"I need your keys" he asked, releasing your arms to turn towards you and look at you straight on.

Noticing every little feature of you since you'd arrived at the bar. The office clothes hugged your curves, and every piece of clothing looked great on you. The combinations of turquoise and gray further enhanced your beauty and every feature that Sunghoon had fallen in love with.

"No purse?"

"In the car" you said in a tearful voice, reaching for the keys in the back pocket of the pants you were wearing to hand them to him.

Sunghoon took them and unlocked the alarm for you both to get in, holding the passenger door for you until you sat down and he could close the door. Running to the driver's side and getting in too.

If it had been any other time, that silence between the two of you would have been comfortable and just what you needed amid so much confusion in your week. But it was killing you because you knew that Sunghoon looked furious. Maybe at you, you didn't know for sure, but you shrugged when you felt the tears still falling down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry" you whispered as quietly as you could, breaking the silence inside the car, which was still at a complete standstill.

The only sound coming from Sunghoon's lips were the interspersed sighs he gave, running his hands over his face and then through his hair countless times. Well, your apology shouldn't be accepted, after all, because on another occasion he would say that you didn't need to apologize. That it wasn't your fault or anything to comfort you. But Sunghoon wasn't saying anything and that made you cry even more.

You turned your face towards him to see if there was any glimmer of comfort or something you could cling to so that he wouldn't feel that way. Your eyes traveled down his figure, noticing the contrast in clothing the two of you were wearing. Sunghoon was wearing a beige shirt with a huge stain near the sleeve, probably a drink that some customer had knocked over or that he or the boys had made at the bar. There was a small tear in the collar and it was halfway down his hip. Sunghoon's torn and worn jeans gave the outfit a total charm and it made you smile through your tears because it was so characteristic of him.

"Sunghoon…" you decided to call him after you didn't get an answer from him, earning you his gaze straight away.

Sunghoon's brow furrowed at the sight of you crying next to him and his heart squeezed even tighter because he didn't know how to act in the face of so much worry and nervousness. He had seen you cry many times before, but what had gotten into him to act like that? Why was he being so rude when all you had done was go to his bar to drink and cry? Something was happening and he needed to act, but he wasn't thinking straight.

So he didn't think much of it either when he turned and raised his hands to hold your face, bringing your face close to his and leaning his forehead against yours. That act in itself was something between you and him beyond intimacy. Something the two of you shared, in a mute attempt to convey the will to go further. To break through that barrier to touch lips and kiss. But neither you nor Sunghoon had ever done that.

His thumbs brushed against your cheek, the delicate touch contrasting with the roughness of Sunghoon's skin against yours. His breath hitched against your trembling lips and you almost asked him to go further, but you held back.

"Are you going to work tomorrow?" he asked suddenly, in a whisper. His thumbs were still caressing your cheeks and you let out a shaky sigh at the question.

"I don't want to set foot in that place any time soon" you said.

Opening your eyes to find Sunghoon's gaze already on you, your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when he looked directly at your lips. But just as quickly as he did this, he managed to look away and back at you properly.

"So I'm spending the night in your apartment" he kissed your forehead, lingering his lips against your skin before pulling away and straightening up in the driver's seat "You need to tell me why you showed up here at the bar on a Wednesday, crying."

"And you'll need to tell me why you fought with me today" you pouted, hearing him laugh for the first time since you met that night.

Sunghoon agreed, starting the car's engine to get out of there and head straight to his apartment.

Staying up late talking about what had caused all this was the right thing to do, even if your body was begging for some sleep after a long hot bath. You remember telling Sunghoon that it was trouble with your father, as usual. The way the man wanted to control your life in the worst possible way, not content with having decided your future, he wanted to decide anything else that involved you.

But the subject was cut off there, you didn't want to tell your best friend that the real reason you were crying wasn't even your father's control over your life and his idiotic hunches, but that in a few weeks, you wouldn't be here anymore. You would no longer live in this country and, worst of all, you would no longer see Sunghoon. That was better left unsaid as you fell asleep in his arms, preventing him from leaving your bed after hearing all your wails, promising that you wouldn't cry about it anymore.

Even though it was hard to think that you would no longer be close to him. That, in all this time, you hadn't even managed to declare yourself or hear a statement from him. So now being in another country, with unrequited love – or so you both thought – couldn't be worse.

Either that or the little hangover that took over your body as soon as dawn broke and you opened your eyes. The slight difficulty in keeping them open when you groped around and didn't feel Sunghoon's warm body anywhere. Had he already left, then? Or had he decided to sleep in the guest room in the middle of the night? This last option is ruled out because you remember turning over a few times in the early hours of the morning or stirring in your sleep and feeling his arms around you. It was one of the times he slept in the same bed as you, doing so only when your friends went to sleep in your apartment and used the other two spare bedrooms. This was done more often than you thought, but it wasn't so important to think about it now.

Sitting up in bed after much pondering, you felt your head spin a little and your eyes finally open. Contemplating the moment when you should have been at your father's company – which would soon be yours – but here you were, in your apartment after a wave of hangover hit on a Thursday morning. It wasn't that bad, you remember doing it a few times while you were at college. The only difference was that the place would be full of university students, your friends who were supposed to meet up at the bar on Friday. But one of them was certainly there in your apartment at that moment, and you realized it as soon as you got out of bed to walk out of the room.

The smell of food invaded your nostrils as you walked down the corridor to the top of the stairs. Noises of cutlery and frying and an undeniable smell of coffee pulled you further and further into the kitchen of your apartment. Sunghoon was unbelievable and you knew he would do anything to see you well. You just didn't know that he would prepare an entire breakfast when the scene in front of you said so.

"Good morning" he smiled at you when he saw you leaning against the doorframe, sleepy and even more beautiful than he remembered.

Your smile soon followed and you almost fell back when your eyes finally caught up with him. He had slept without his shirt on, but seeing him like that right in front of you was too much. Sunghoon was wearing sweatpants belonging to Jake, who always left his or Jay's clothes at your apartment every time he went there with you, Stella, and his girlfriend. Sunghoon also had a few pieces here and there, but Jake's pants were the first he'd found the night before, so putting them on quickly to wrap you in a hug was the only thing he could think of at the moment.

"Good morning" you decided, pushing aside any thoughts and smiling at him, approaching in slow steps the slender, gorgeous guy who was preparing a mug of coffee "Is that for me?"

He hummed excitedly, putting a few things into the mug before turning and handing it to you.

"I found some things in your cupboard and I think I may have managed to replicate my grandfather's coffee, the one we had at university."

"Don't play games with me" you pouted as you picked up the mug "Are you serious?"

He leaned down to touch his lips to the top of your head, sniffing your hair and smelling the shampoo on your strands.

"You tell me" Sunghoon moved away to finish making the pancakes and arrange the bacon and eggs on the table on the other side of the counter, where he turned around and walked away from you.

Your eyes captured the whole moment as he took a long sip of coffee. It was just like his grandfather's, perhaps with a little more cinnamon and a hint of vanilla that you felt as the liquid went down your throat. It might have been Sunghoon's style, but the essence was completely his grandfather's from what you remembered from university. Smiling at this, you watched him set up the whole breakfast game while humming some tune you couldn't identify because your brain was focusing on his every move. The muscles flexed as he bent over to arrange the plates, or how his brow furrowed as he balanced the juice container on the table.

You didn't want to feel your heart squeeze at that scene because Sunghoon had already done it a few times. For both you and your friends, it was normal to see him excited about making breakfast or being so domestic. But it wasn't normal for you to feel like you might explode, that you needed to tell him that in a few weeks, you'd both be far enough apart that he'd – maybe – even forget about you.

"Hey, Y/n" his voice was desperate and snapped you out of your thoughts when you noticed him running away from where you were to come towards you. You only realized you were crying when he took the mug from your hand and ran his fingers down your cheek, collecting your freshly fallen tears "What happened? Did I do something wrong or…?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong" you sobbed quietly, your hands encircling his fists as Sunghoon held your face between them.

"So what happened?" he asked. "Is there something else bothering you?"

Yes. I'm practically moving out and we won't see each other for who knows how long. You choked on that thought as you looked into his eyes, the concern evident and the glint that adorned the dark orbs that you admired so much.

Your thoughts were consuming you as Sunghoon leaned towards you, trying to listen or hoping that words would come out of your mouth so that he could understand what was happening to you. In his mind, something at breakfast or the night before was completely wrong.

He may have overstepped the mark when he held you while you slept, keeping you close to his body the whole time. Or that he went through your kitchen and prepared a huge breakfast on a weekday when you were supposed to be in your office and you were here with him. But that didn't make sense and he just wanted to think that you were vulnerable from having bad times with your father and the weight on your back from trying to please him at all costs.

Sunghoon understood how burdened you were by this how much you disliked what you had and how your relationship with your father was, he understood from the moment you two met. That's what made you fall in love with him because he always understood you. And he fell in love with you because he saw you beyond any designer clothes you wore or jewelry your father gave you to put around your neck. He saw your eyes, your smile, he saw you for real.

And he was seeing it now, in front of him in your kitchen, and as your tears slowly dried until you stopped crying. Sunghoon thought about asking you again what had happened or if you wanted him to leave so you could be alone, but it was his turn to have his mind flooded with nothing but you when he felt your lips on his.

Suddenly, without any pretext, you simply leaned forward and kissed him.

Sunghoon's hands ran to your waist and pulled you against his body, afraid that this was his mind betraying him, or that he was daydreaming about your lips against his. But as soon as you whimpered softly to ask for permission to kiss him, he knew he wasn't dreaming.

Tongues soon intertwined and the taste of coffee in your mouth quickly passed into his mouth, making Sunghoon moan softly as he pressed you between his body and the kitchen counter. It was a repressed feeling since the time you two discovered such feelings and that you held onto until the present moment. If he had known that kissing you would be like this, that your mouth would fit perfectly on his, and that you would have the sweetest breath against his lips, Sunghoon would have kissed you much sooner. He would have taken advantage of every opportunity he had around you, your mouth, or the moments when you two almost kissed by accident. He should have done all this before because it was heavenly to feel your mouth move against his.

It was all too much and the way you were making him feel, but when your nails slid to the back of his neck, sanity had long since left Sunghoon's body. He slid his hands down your thighs and supported your body to place you sitting on the kitchen counter. The icy marble on your thighs and half of your ass where the shorts couldn't cover, you moaned against his mouth and leaned your body forward with a shiver running through you. Your chest pressed against his and Sunghoon fit between your legs, as little space as possible between the two of you.

Pulling away after a long while, he rolled his eyes to your lips to notice a thin layer of saliva and the redness of your bottom lip. Swollen and all beautiful while he wasn't much different. Your chest rose and fell to normalize your breathing and he kept his hands resting on the counter beside each of your thighs.

“Y/n” he called your name, voice hoarse like a plea for you to keep him between your legs even after the kiss was over.

"Yeah?" you answered him, hands running down his chest and feeling Sunghoon's heart speed up under your fingers when your hand stopped there. Your eyes stared into his as your legs pressed against Sunghoon's ass to press him between your legs.

“Shit” he moaned as the growing erection pressed between your legs, the heat of your still-covered pussy making him shudder.

Quickly Sunghoon's hands slid down your thighs and went to the waistband of your pajama shorts, grabbing the fabric without taking it out of place. You tightened your legs around his waist again and at that moment you saw him gain courage and roll your hips against his. Sunghoon’s dick was rock hard and you couldn’t hold back your moan as the perfect movement made the head of his dick press against your swollen clit. The wonderful friction of dry fucking as he alternated his hips between rolling and going back and forth, only to be able to draw moans from your lips each time his dick got the perfect pressure on your pussy.

“Sunghoon” you moaned his name, hands moving down from his chest to his stomach slowly. The nail scratched all the way down forming a red trail against the white skin in front of you. You stopped with your fingers on the waistband of the pants he was wearing, swallowing hard when his hand on the waistband of your shorts went down.

"Yes, my love?" he whispered. So deep making your pussy clench around nothing, and it was pathetic how you felt like this while he had barely touched you.

“Can you—” your voice hitched, your eyes closed quickly when Sunghoon's fingers entered your shorts and panties, going straight to your wet clit.

His moan made you moan too, combined with the pressure of his fingertips rubbing circles on your muscles in need of attention. It felt so good not to have to ask him for much, knowing that the impulse to kiss him was making you do this kind of thing that you didn't even know would happen. Much less him.

Feeling like you had kissed him was something Sunghoon never thought would happen, especially since you were always shyer than him. All the advances and physical contact between the two of you came from him, so he thought that, if one day there was a kiss between you and him, he would definitely make the first move. But since it hadn't happened, Sunghoon was left to enjoy that moment because he knew he was giving himself as much as you.

You could no longer hold back the desire he had to have you in his arms, at his fingertips, wrapped around his dick. Sunghoon wanted to feel you.

"That is good?" he asked as he ran his fingers down your pussy lips, parting them with the obscene sound of your wetness spreading. You would be embarrassed just to hear it, but you no longer cared as his fingers worked wonders on your pussy.

“That feels wonderful” you moaned as he circled his index finger around your entrance, feeling like you had clenched around nothing. As impatient as he is.

With a movement away, you almost cried when you no longer felt Sunghoon's fingers in your pussy. Almost grabbing him back and shoving his hand where you needed him most. But everything calmed down when you saw that he was grabbing your shorts and panties, asking you to lift your hips so he could remove what was getting in the way.

Soon the pieces of clothing were on the floor and you thanked the gods for being free down there, with his hand returning to surround your clit in circular movements. Sunghoon's nimble and skilled fingers made small drawings on your pussy while his other hand went up to your face and held it. Cupped between your cheek and neck so that he kept your face close to his while the fingers in your pussy were slid to your entrance.

“Don’t hide your sounds from me, okay?” he asked as he introduced two fingers at once, watching you bite your bottom lip hard. Sunghoon smiled when you opened your eyes to look at him, nodding as you let your moans come out freely.

The stretch of your pussy felt divine to him, his fingers covered in arousal and your walls clenching so deliciously as he went deeper with slow movements. Not because he wanted to torture you, but because he was taking his time as he felt you getting wetter and wetter so he could take his cock.

Meanwhile, his hands reached down with difficulty to the waistband of the pants he wore to sleep, pushing it down just to free the head of his dick. Because you didn't have enough strength to continue the work since Sunghoon's fingers in your pussy took away any concentration you had. He chuckled softly at your snort of displeasure at not getting what he wanted to do, then he leaned in to kiss your lips.

A tender, slow, and affectionate kiss. With your tongues moving against each other romantically, silently conveying that you two loved each other, even if it was never said in the first place.

Sunghoon removed his fingers from your pussy with a pornographic pop due to the amount of juices coming out of there. He took the opportunity to lower his pants to his feet and use his fingers, wet with your essence, to wrap around the head of his dick and smear it along with the precum that came out of there. That scene could be worth any orgasm he had as you watched him slowly masturbate in front of you, with his finger full of you and his precum. This was making you so hot that you decided to take off your pajama shirt, now matching his nudity.

You pulled him by the back of his head and kissed him. Wanting to occupy your mouth or something other than focusing on his dick that was already throbbing to be inside you, soon feeling him pull you closer to the edge of the kitchen counter and feeling his dick against your thigh.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” he asked gently against your lips, you sighed softly and agreed, whispering a slow “yes” to him.

As if he already knew your body, Sunghoon was precise in positioning the head of his dick in your pussy and sliding it from your clit, the soaked lips, and your entrance. Collecting even more of your juices until the head of his cock was in your hole. Slowly entering your pussy with almost stopping movements, just so that you felt comfortable each time he moved inside you to penetrate a little more.

Your nails scratched every inch of his skin that was visible and touchable to you, and he smiled, satisfied, knowing that those marks would remain on his skin for a long time. Not that it was a bother because Sunghoon would happily tell anyone who asked that it was his girl who had done it.

“Fuck” you grunted as his pelvis finally slammed against yours, his dick completely inside you. Big and throbbing, touching your spongy part in a slow movement that he made as he started to pull out and re-enter your pussy.

“Are you—” he moaned “Fuck, Y/n” Sunghoon’s lips found yours again.

Your hot pussy sucking his cock was the best feeling Sunghoon could have felt in his life. It was as if your pussy had molded itself to him in just a few seconds while he was inside you, no longer wanting to come out.

“You can move now, Hoonie” calling him that nickname always made something in Sunghoon light up, but the way you whimpered and then moaned, made Sunghoon's hips slam hard against yours.

He would even apologize for how careless he was in fucking you like that because he wanted to take it slow and take his time. He wanted to enjoy every movement, but the excitement of hearing you call him made something click in him.

Responding to your requests, Sunghoon began to move between your legs. His cock moved in and out slowly but hit you hard every time his pelvis met yours. The sound of skin slapping together, accompanied by the moans you two shared was the soundtrack of that kitchen. Sunghoon went back to cupping your face in his hands, cupping each side of your cheek to keep your face in place as he fucked your hips against his. Your legs wrapped around him pressing your thighs against his waist to press him further as he bottomed out, his cock reaching your cervix with each hard thrust until the end.

“You feel so good, love” he moaned close to your mouth, his gaze falling between your bodies to see his cock being swallowed by your pussy. The white ring of his excitement wetting his dick to his pelvis when he got close to your pussy.

The lazy smile he gave you when he looked back at you, his face fucked up and his eyes focused on his every move.

“Hoonie” you called him.

"Yes, love?" he leaned in, mouth brushing against his and hip movements never stopping as he tried to hear what you had to say.

It could be the horniness taking over you, or the need to say it because you didn't know when you would have another opportunity. And if it would have. He could run away and never see you again, but you would need to take that chance while you were being fucked by him in your kitchen.

Your hands reached for his hands on your face, sliding one of them along the prominent veins on Sunghoon's forearm. He sighed softly at the touch, smiling against your mouth.

“I'm in love with you” your voice followed by a loud moan as he slammed his hips against yours, his cock entering your pussy completely.

The action itself was a shock because he wasn't expecting it. Maybe hearing you say that he was doing great, that his cock was something amazing, or something related to the sex you two were sharing. But never something he looked forward to hearing, not when his dick was buried inside your pussy.

Sunghoon slowed down the pace of his thrusts, remaining with his hands on your face before taking your lips in a slow kiss, sucking the tip of your tongue to your lower lip.

“I've always wanted to hear that” he sighed breathlessly, one of his thumbs going down to your bottom lip and pressing there “Because I've been in love with you since we met, Y/n.”

It would be romantically beautiful if he didn't have his hair disheveled, sweaty, and plastered to his forehead. And if you weren't oozing excitement from your pussy onto the kitchen counter and his dick if your body wasn't on the verge of exploding. But no matter how you and him were, hearing that made things a little better for you.

“Then show me” you whispered “Make me cum on your cock.”

He just nodded without having the courage to contradict you or say how sexy you were commanding him like that. Because Sunghoon also wanted to cum and it wasn't much different from you.

Returning the ministrations of your hips against his and burying his cock in you, he accelerated the pace of his thrusts, and the sound of skin slapping filled the kitchen again. His cock buried itself deeper and deeper into your pussy and soaked between your thighs and his abdomen each time he went even deeper into you.

Sunghoon pressed his thumb again on your lower lip, collecting some of your saliva so he could wet his finger and go down to your clit. Spreading your saliva there to stimulate the neglected muscle as he fucked his dick inside you.

“Come for me then, love. I want to hear you moan my name” he whispered close to your ear, sliding his mouth down your neck and biting the place eagerly.

Teeth dug into your skin as he sped up his thrusts as he felt his cock pulse inside you and your pussy squeeze him against its walls. Sunghoon could scream right then and there when he felt you contract around him, moaning his name as he asked and writhing on the kitchen counter. Your nails dug into his shoulders as a way to balance himself, taking possession of the man who fucked you so good and squeezed your clit until he extracted the last drop of your cum.

“I want you to cum inside me” you whispered close to his ear, taking advantage of the fact that Sunghoon’s lips were still on your neck “Please, Hoonie.”

You could be a huge motherfucker and he had never seen that side of you until now. But it also wasn't complaining that you were like that with him, on the contrary. It was great to see this side of you from the angle and position he was in.

Sunghoon gave a few more thrusts into your convulsing and overstimulated pussy, going deep with his dick until jets of cum painted each of your walls white, feeling the heat take over your pussy as he slid his dick inside you. Pulsating and incredibly skilled, pushing harder and harder until he stopped cumming inside you.

He was stunned and panting, teeth sliding across your skin and a hickey left in place before he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours. Still keeping his cock inside you to have the heat of your pussy envelop him a little more.

“You…” he started saying, clearing his throat when he felt it dry. You knew what he was going to say, trying not to show any sadness and just focusing on the moment he was having. “You really meant that, didn’t you?”

“About being in love with you?” you asked, seeing him agree with a shy nod. As if he didn’t still have his dick inside you and had fucked you just a few minutes ago “Of course I do.”

“Good” Sunghoon smiled at you, kissing your lips to get out of your pussy and prevent you both from moaning loudly at the feeling of each other’s emptiness “Now let’s clean ourselves up, shall we?”

It was your turn to agree, accepting his help to get off the counter and go to your room.

You didn’t want to say anything to him about not seeing each other anymore or about how you were leaving. Many possibilities were running around your mind and you thought of something that might work. But none of them were involved in facing Sunghoon face to face after today.

"A letter? Who would send that nowadays?” Sunghoon laughed as he took the envelope from Jay's hand, rolling his eyes and pulling out a chair to sit down.

It was close to lunch and the bar wasn't even close to opening, but he and his best friends always went at that time to have lunch together and clean the bar before the night was full of the customers they always used to come to.

It was Friday and he was excited because he knew he would spend time with his friends and, more than that, he would spend his time with you. He would finally have you with him after telling you he was in love with you and hearing that you were in love with him back. Sunghoon could have sworn this was all a dream because less than two days ago he heard it, waiting for a long time since college.

But if all the waiting was made up for with the sex you two had in the kitchen, then continued in the bedroom and ended up in the bathroom of your apartment, he would be completely happy with having waited so long.

“Open it already, dude” Jay whined “Or I’ll do it and read it out loud.”

Sunghoon denied all of Jay's theatrics and rolled his eyes, opening the envelope that had no sender, only the recipient. He sighed as he unfolded the paper inside.

“It’s a letter from Y/n” he smiled at the paper when he recognized your handwriting.

Jay also smiled, remembering the day before when he received Sunghoon's call after he left your house. Telling everything that had happened, maybe omitting some details so it wouldn't be so embarrassing for Jay, but he still wanted to tell about the small statement. About how he saw the sparkle in his eyes when he heard that you were in love with him and how you shivered in his arms when he heard that it was reciprocal.

But also, how could it not? Sunghoon would be crazy if he wasn't in love with you back. He would call himself every name possible for not realizing how amazing you were and how passionate you were too.

As he read that letter, the smile disappeared and Jay did the same, not understanding why Sunghoon seemed so apprehensive reading something you had sent him. Not after the time the two of you shared.

“Hey, dude” Jay called him, but all Sunghoon did was crumple up that paper and throw it on the table.

Leaving without saying a single word he rolled up the bar door and disappeared from there.

“What happened to him?” Heeseung appeared next, startled by the noise the door made as soon as Sunghoon left.

Jay was just as confused as he was, not wanting to invade his friend's privacy, but he was worried and knew that Sunghoon or Heeseung would do the same for him if they saw him like that. So the boy did the most sensible thing, which was to crumple the paper to read the letter you had written to Sunghoon.

His eyes widened with each word before reading specific things you had written, one of them being the reason why Sunghoon had left there like that.

Maybe it was our last moment together because, in a few weeks, I'm moving to Switzerland. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I just… I was scared.

Jay put the pieces together little by little. So that was the reason that made you go to the bar crying on Wednesday, you were moving to Switzerland. And you would lose Sunghoon one way or another because you certainly had your father's hand in this decision, which certainly wasn't his.

Now all that was left was to know what the boy would do with this information, because the way Sunghoon left that bar, he hadn't taken the news very well.

#enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #enhypen sunghoon #enha smut #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen hard hours #sunghoon hard hours #enhypen masterlist #enhypen imagines #bay writes.

2K notes · View notes

spider-stark · 3 months

Text

THE BRIDGE

Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Summary - Your wardship with House Blackwood was meant to bridge the chasm between your families. Years later, you return to Stone Hedge as the whispers of war spread—only for Lord Tully to call for a hunt.

Warnings - fem!reader, complicated sibling relationship, fighting, (probably excessive) mentions of blood, talks about hunting/killing wild animals, !angst!, adult language, reader def suffering from identity crisis, probably deviates from canon some, kieran burton fan cast for benji, all characters 18+

Word Count - 5.6k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

When Grover Tully, the Lord Paramount of the Trident, sent word for each of his bannermen to send forth a handful of their finest House members to a most desolate area of the Whispering Woods, no one thought it wise to object.

“Lord Grover is an ornery old crow,” your father, Humfrey Bracken huffed as you readied the horses. “But you would do well to earn his respect.” He clamped a hand on your brother’s shoulder, pride gleaming in his eyes as he said, “Whatever he’s planning, I want you to show him that House Bracken stands strong. Understood?”

Keeping his chin held high, Amos hesitantly mutters, “If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her.”

Even with your back turned, you could feel the weight of your brother’s stare, his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head.

Your father shrugged, a disinterested gesture. “Grover said to send our best,” he said, “and when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one's a better shot than her.”

For the next day-and-a-half, you rode at a distance from the group your father selected—your brother, Amos, and two of your male cousins. And while they laughed and jeered and yapped, you remained stuck in your own thoughts, playing your father’s words on a loop.

It’s the only compliment he’s ever paid you. The closest he’s ever come to acknowledging you as Bracken.

You hate him sometimes, you think. For agreeing to peace all those years ago—for sending his only daughter to ward with his rival of all people. He must have known it was futile. Must have known that one girl could never bridge such an ancient chasm.

He must have known—and yet he sent you anyway, only to call you back years later, tearing you away from the only home you had ever known and leaving you to feel like a stranger in your House.

Grover said to send our best.

Are you a Bracken, then? Is blood all that determines a House?

No one’s a better shot than her.

But your skill is that of a Blackwood, born under their tutelage.

Deep within the Woods, a steady mist of rain falls from the sky, leaving your skin uncomfortably damp. In the distance, a low hum of chattering voices signal that the four of you are drawing close to Lord Grover’s camp—and that the other House’s have already arrived.

Your thoughts shift, wondering who Lord Samwell sent to represent House Blackwood—fearing that you might already know the answer.

A strange tightness floods your chest, coiling around your lungs.

It’s been months since you last saw the heir to Raventree Hall. Many, many months—and you can’t help but think any reunion might end in bloodshed with Amos by your side.

As if he heard his name ring through your mind, your brother slows his horse to gentle trot beside yours, cocking a neatly groomed brow at you. “Tell me, sister—were you always this dour?” He asks, feigning intrigue. “Or did half-a-decade with the Blackwoods simply drain the joy from you?”

You don’t pry your eyes from the path ahead, refusing to look him in the eye as he continues without waiting for an answer.

“I wouldn’t be surprised—a mere day with those insipid cravens would have me wishing to swallow my own blade.” Removing a hand from the reins, he pantomimed the act—gripping an invisible hilt and shoving it towards his lips, letting a dramatic choke rip from his throat.

Riding a bit ahead, your cousins chortle at his jest, shooting amused glances over their shoulders.

“No need,” you answer without thinking, your tone impassive. “Aly would have an arrow in your eye before the day was up.”

Your cousins fall silent.

Amos stiffens, jaw clenched tight. “She could try.”

You know Black Aly would try if given half the chance—and you have no doubt that she would succeed, too. She was the one who taught you how to string a bow and sharpen arrows, how to aim and never miss.

When you don’t respond, Amos pulls his horse in closer—as close as he can get without spookings yours. “Look,” he utters, low enough that your cousins can’t overhear, “I don’t know how things were done at Raventree—but you’re home now, and you would do well to remember where your true loyalties lie.”

Again, you don’t speak. Don’t think, either.

Amos sighs. “Your blood runs gold, sister. You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that—and don’t bring shame upon our name. Understood?”

Strange.

You had seen your own blood before—more times than you can count, actually. Scars mottle your skin like stars in the sky, a reminder of the years spent training and the memories of nights spent with friends who were supposed to be enemies.

Never once had it looked gold to you.

Only red.

“I understand–” a pause, a breath, a heartbeat– “brother.”

Nausea twists your stomach. The familial title curdles on your tongue even as Amos grins at you. There’s nothing affectionate about the gesture—how could there be? He doesn’t know you. Not really.

Blood or no, you’re little more than strangers to each other—and yet, even so, you can see he’s trying. Trying to know you.

Ahead, the camp comes into view. Banners hang above tents: white for the Mootons, blue for the Pipers, purple for the Mallisters.

And red—for House Blackwood.

Amos gives you one last glance, a pall mimicry of what you believe is meant to be love in his eyes. “You’re home now,” he reminds you again, as if you need to hear it,“be glad for it.”

With the Tully’s guards now in earshot, Amos doesn’t bother with waiting for a response. He snaps the reins, urging his gelding back to the head of your group, already bellowing his greetings. You watch him go, transfixed on the yellow-gold of his tunic—identical to yours.

Approaching the guards, you tell yourself that your brother is what home is supposed to look like. That if you were to slice your veins, gold would pour from your wrists.

Not red.

After checking in with the guards and tying your mare up in the makeshift paddock, there was no time left to freshen up before you were expected to join Amos and your cousins. With all the Houses now gathered, Lord Grover wasted no time in calling you all to the heart of the camp.

Still, you try to make yourself presentable—using your fingers to comb through tangled, windswept hair and smoothing the wrinkles from your gold tunic, careful not to disturb the ornate brooch pinned above your heart.

According to the guards, everyone was given one upon arrival. “All Houses are required to wear them,” they explained when Amos pressed them on it, “Lord Tully’s orders.”

They were all different, it seemed. Yours was a delicate thing, fashioned from silver and pearls in the image of a blooming dahlia, while Amos’s was clunky and shaped like the sun. He’s still fumbling with it when you finally push through the small crowd, taking your place at his side.

To your left, separated only by a group of five Frey men, you feel the wary glances being cast your way. You almost turn your head—almost glance back at them, if only to see what they might do. What he would do.

Would he even acknowledge you? Or simply look away?

The answer, thankfully, is one you don’t have time to learn. A servant garners attention, dragging a simple, plush chair to the group’s center. Following suit, another two servants assist the aged Lord Paramount from his tent, guiding him into his seat. On his right stands his eldest grandson—and your favorite Tully. Tall and dark-haired, Elmo looks more fearsome than he actually is, sparing you a quick, discreet wink when he spots you.

“You may all be wondering,” Lord Grover wheezes, his lungs fighting for breath, “why I have called upon you all today—the many great Houses of our land.”

As he speaks, old, gnarled hands punctuate his words, gesturing out to the many men gathered ‘round. His fingers shake with effort, his shoulders bowed beneath the weight of his many, many years. But his chin remains high, and his tone commanding—if a touch quavery.

“I hear rumblings,” he continues, “from the South-East.”

Lord Grover’s eyes, milky with cataracts, shift in the direction, staring blindly into the towering trees of the Whispering Woods. Beyond them, even.

“Whispers of a great danger brewing in the Crownlands—within the King’s own court, if rumors are to be trusted.”

Your spine turns to steel.

Those rumors, you know, are as true as they come. Over the past several months, they had moved through the realm like a venomous serpent. Slithering from mouth to ear, hissing tales of the two factions that now divide King Viserys’s council.

The Blacks and the Greens.

The rightful heir and the first-born son.

And the very reason your father had called you home.

“War is coming,” a deep, foreboding warning, “and should it reach the Riverlands, I wish to know that we might stand united in its wrath. That we will not allow petty rivalries–” a pointed glance at your brother, and then to your left where, without looking, you know the Blackwood heir stands–“to tear us apart from within.”

A heartbeat passes. Then another.

The forest holds its breath. Cradles the Lord Paramount’s words in the air, weaving them around the many great Houses of the Riverlands.

You wonder if this is what strength looks like. What it sounds like.

You fear you already know which side of the war Lord Grover’s strength might fall—and you pray that you’re wrong.

Placing a firm hand upon his grandfather’s shoulder, Elmo takes a step forward. “In an effort to promote civility between our Houses,” he announces in a tone that demands respect, “we have arranged for a hunt.”

Your brow furrows. A hunt?

“You will be divided into two person teams, working with an individual outside of your own House.” His gaze shifts to you, dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “Teams have already been decided. Upon your arrival, each of you was given a pin—your partner will bear a matching one. And while there will be no winners or losers, you should know that once you leave camp, you will not be permitted to return without a trophy of some kind.”

Discontent spreads. Low murmurs fill the air.

Amos voices his frustration louder than the rest. “And when is this hunt to take place?”

Elmo grins. “Now.”

Instantly, murmurs grow to shouts.

“You cannot be serious, my Lord!”

“It is already sunset!”

“Is this a jest?”

Elmo’s grin never wavers, unphased by the protests—and Lord Grover appears content to let his grandson contend with everyone's bickering, exhausted from what little talking he had already done.

“Might I suggest you move quickly,” Elmo speaks over the crowd. Glancing upwards, he squints at the black clouds rolling overhead, an amused lilt to his voice as he adds, “Lest you wish to be caught in the coming storm.”

With no more than a curt nod to the crowd, Elmo turns on his heel, already veering off in the direction of his own tent as servants begin to help Lord Grover rise.

“This is absurd,” your brother grumbles.

You ignore him. Storming right past him, you make a beeline for the fleeing Lord.

“A hunt?!”

Fond as Elmo is of you, you know better than to shout at the future Lord Paramount of the Trident. Your voice remains no more than a harsh whisper, even as you shoot daggers into the back of his head.

“At night, no less! In the middle of a gods-damned storm! Have you lost your mind?”

“What? You think it’s a bad idea?” He chuckles, keeping a steady pace. “Of all people, I thought that you might appreciate the challenge of it all.”

You stay on his heels. “Who is he?”

“Who is who?”

Further from the crowd now, you grow bold. You reach out and snag his arm, forcing him to stop and face you. “Ignorance isn’t a good look on you, Elm.” You grind out, “Swear that you didn’t pick him to be my partner.”

A wrinkle forms between thick brows, feigning innocence. “What makes you think that I chose your partner?”

“Because I know you. You’re always scheming—jutting your big nose into places it very well does not belong!”

Elmo opens his mouth—hesitates—and then frowns. “Am I truly that transparent?”

“You may as well be made of glass, Elm.”

His pout deepens, still dancing around your question. “Well, let's say that I did choose your partner—theoretically, of course!” Your eyes roll. “I think you would find my choice to be quite suitable. If anything, you might even thank me-”

“This isn’t a game, Elmo!” Desperate now, you can’t stop your voice from rising. “If you paired me with him, then Amos will–”

“Kill him?” Elmo ventures.

“Yes!’

Pursing his lips, Elmo’s gaze falls somewhere over your head. “Well,” he sucks in a breath, “it seems we may be past the point of stopping that from happening.”

Your mind goes blank, your thoughts scattering like shards of glass.

You spin on your heel, head whirling around in search of Amos in the throng. Less than a second and you spot him—not because your gaze was drawn to the familiar gold color of your own House, but because of the wall of stark scarlet standing before him.

Blackwoods. Two of them on either side of the Raventree heir.

And Benji—his hands pressed to your brother's chest, roughly shoving him back into one of your cousins.

“Do me a favor,” Elmo's sigh cuts through your panicked haze. “Keep the two of them from plunging a sword in the others’ belly, would you?”

Any other time and you might have told Elmo off, cursed him for putting you in this position—future Lord Paramount be damned.

But not now. Not when centuries of rivalry serve as proof that nothing is more dangerous, more unpredictable than this—

A Blackwood and a Bracken—your brother and Benji—standing toe-to-toe.

Mindless adrenaline is all that thrusts you into motion. Mud splatters up the legs of your trousers as you practically run in their direction, demanding as soon as you’re in ear shot, “What is this?!”

Amos doesn’t acknowledge you. Neither does Benji.

Chests-puffed, they remain locked in their foolish staring match, neither of them willing to be the first to back down.

Finally, one of your cousins sneers, “Seems that Benji-boy here thinks we’re gonna let him take you out into the woods.”

A sharp, nasty laugh rips from Amos’s throat. “As if I’d let that happen!”

“We’re partnered for the hunt, you imbecile.” Benji’s tone is that of lethal calm, even as he glares down his nose at your brother. You look to his chest—spotting the silver dahlia pinned at his breast. “If you have a problem with it, take it up with Tully.”

“You think I’m stupid, Blackwood?!”

Benji’s brow lifts a fraction of an inch, as if silently proclaiming—I just said so, did I not?

Scowling, Amos juts his finger against Benji’s chest. “I refuse to give a Blackwood an opportunity to defile my sister!”

Benji’s answering grin is something wicked as he purrs, “Oh, if I wanted to defile your sister, Bracken, I could’ve done so a long time ago.”

Your pulse pounds—caught somewhere between offense and desire as Benji’s words echo in your head.

Both feelings fade to fear when Amos reaches for the hilt of his sword, wrenching it from the sheath at his hip. In a blink, more weapons are drawn—your cousins holding swords, the Blackwoods holding daggers.

Not Benji, though.

Benji doesn’t flinch, even with your brother's sword poised at his throat, ready to kill. Something flickers in his eyes—a shift that you know all too well, sending ice skittering across your bones.

“I won’t have this,” Amos seethes. “You will find another partner—or I swear on my House that blood will be shed!”

Benji leans closer. Let the tip of the blade dig into his flesh, a rivulet of blood rolling down his throat.

Red.

“Is that a threat, Bracken?”

You can hear your brother swallow—feel his panic as if it were your own, as if it was his fear coursing through your veins. Still, his voice remains steady. “Consider it a promise, Blackwood.”

A blink and steel was glinting before your eyes. A single breath and Amos was out-maneuvered and out-matched—the clash erupting and subsiding in one seamless heartbeat, ending with your brother's sword in Benji’s hand.

A shuddering breath slips from your brother's lips as Benji presses the steel to his throat, a perfect mirror of the position they were in just moments ago.

“What’s the matter, Bracken?” Benji croons sarcastically, head hilting. “Do I frighten you?”

There’s a lull to his voice—an eerie stillness that sends a chill scuttering down your spine.

Amos was ignorant—to pick a fight with Benji, to think he might actually win it. But he’s your brother, too—and you know that if he were to be slain right now—right here—an even larger chasm will take the place of the one you were once meant to bridge.

“Stop.”

The demand is no more than a breath. A soft, terrified sound.

Yet still, it makes Benji’s focus waver.

“Leave him.” You force yourself to speak louder. Stronger. “Now.”

You take a step closer—a hand outstretched, reaching towards Benji. His attention shifts, settling on you. He blinks—his stormy eyes, dark with rage, finally starting to clear.

Benji’s movements languid as he steps away from your brother. Your cousins rush to Amos’s side as he stumbles back, frantically checking the heir of Stone Hedge for any sign of injury.

They found none. Not even a scratch upon his throat, where his own sword had just hovered.

Benji passes you the sword—a silent conversation passing between the two of you.

You could have killed him, you glare.

I could have—Benji agrees with a small, self-satisfied smile—but I didn’t.

One of your cousins, bold and stupid, steps forward. “Is that all it takes to keep you at heel, Blackwood?” He glances between the two of you, his lip curling into a sneer. “A dog and his bitch,” he taunts, “how sweet–”

A cry rips from his throat, cutting his insult short. You expect it to be Benji, having noticed the way his fists had clenched from the moment your cousin so much as looked at you. And perhaps it would’ve been—if your brother hadn’t grabbed the fool by the scruff of his neck, yanking him backwards and shoving him to the muddy ground.

“Say what you want of him,” Amos tells your cousin, his voice gruff, “but you will mind how you speak of her.”

You don’t know what to make of that. Of Amos defending you. Of knowing that if he hadn’t, Benji would have. Or that, even after that, Amos doesn’t quite know how to look you in the eyes, looking to the grass and the sky and anything that isn’t you.

You’re a Bracken, through-and-through. Take pride in that.

But did he take pride in you?

If you wish to impress Lord Tully, you might think twice about sending her.

“What’s done is done.” With a pointed look towards Lord Grover’s tent off in the distance, you say, “Now is not the time nor the place. If you wish so badly to fight, save it for when the war begins.”

On one side of you, Benji remains silent, watching you with a curious glint in his eye. On the other, Amos hesitates.

“I don’t trust him,” he says.

You wonder if he doesn’t know how to say: I’m worried about you.

“You heard our father,” you tell him, chin high, “when it comes to a bow and arrow, no one’s a better shot.”

Perhaps there are things you don’t know how to say, too. Like: But I do. I trust him with my life. Maybe even with yours, too.

Begrudgingly, Benji meets your brother's gaze, fighting the urge to scowl at him. “For years, no harm befell your sister under my watch—and you have my word that none shall befall her now,” he vows. “I swear it upon the Old Gods.”

“And the New?”

You consider stomping on Amos’s foot.

Ignorant. To continue pushing—

“Fine.” Benji’s brusque answer takes you by surprise. “Upon your false Gods as well, then.”

Amos, to his credit, argues no further, only echoing the Raventree heir. “Fine.”

For a fleeting moment longer, they stand there, eyes locked. Amos is the first to turn—the roaring tension dissipating into a hushed hiss as him and your cousins storm off. Benji stays, even as his own men begin to back off, as if listening to a silent command to go find their own partners.

You look at him. And he smiles—a shy, awkward thing.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says, a barely perceptible pause in his speech. “At the edge of camp—you can find me whenever you’ve gathered your things.”

You open your mouth to speak, to say something—but the words take root in your chest, leaving vines to crawl up your throat. If you speak, you worry about what might come out. Worry it won’t be as delicate as the dahlia pinned above your heart—above his, too.

So you close your mouth. Say nothing. Nod—and turn, trying to keep your legs from shaking as you walk back to the makeshift paddock to get what you would need for the hunt.

True to his word, you find the heir of Raventree at the edge of camp, leaning against a towering oak and using the tip of his dagger to idly pick dirt from his nails.

You brought only what was necessary—your bow, strapped between your shoulders, and a dark-leather quiver slung over your shoulder, stocked with already-sharpened arrows.

Light rain mists over your face, the sky groaning with a low rumble of thunder. The forest floor squelches beneath your feet as you trudge towards him. Forever on-guard, Benji wastes no time in pushing himself off the tree, adjusting the dagger in his palm so that it can be easily plunged into another's belly if necessary.

But then he sees you, dressed in Bracken gold with damp hair sticking to your cheeks, and looses a breath. Relaxing at the sight of you—his rival, according to centuries of precedent. Your rival, too, you suppose.

Benji doesn’t look like your rival, though.

Sheathing his dagger at his hip, you see no trace of the lethal Lord who, mere moments ago, was willing to go head-to-head with the heir to Stone Hedge. This boy—stuffing his hands in his pockets, a light flush crawling up his throat—is not Benjicot Blackwood, the heir of Raventree Hall.

He’s just Benji.

“Ready to go?” He asks when you’re closer, his voice a familiar caress so unlike the eerie lull it held earlier.

It takes everything in you to erect an icy wall around your heart, colder even than Northern winds. You shove past him, your shoulder knocking into his as you go and earning a perplexed stare. “Let’s get this over with,” you snap, plunging into the depths of the Woods and leaving him to follow behind.

Ten minutes pass. Twenty.

Dusk crept swiftly through the Riverlands, casting a pall shadow over the Whispering Woods. Overhead, dark clouds seem to grow thicker, obscuring what little light the moon has to offer.

A fool’s errand. An impossible task.

That is what Elmo Tully had arranged—not a hunt.

With the sun hidden beyond the horizon and a near-constant rumble of thunder, any animal in these Woods would either be asleep or hiding by now, trying to escape the incoming storm. To find a trophy to bring back to camp—even something as simple as a hare—was unlikely.

Still, knowing the guards won’t let you back in without one, you keep walking. Keep plunging further into the Woods, praying to the Gods that you might find something to take back to camp.

Twigs snap a few paces behind you, wet foliage squelching beneath purposefully heavy steps. A low, careless whistle tests your patience.

With your bow hanging from your hand, you grumble, “You’re being too loud.”

Benji feigns innocence. “Am I?”

“Yes,” you hiss through gritted teeth, never slowing your pace. “Be quiet—unless you wish to scare off any game and spend the night sleeping on wet soil.”

He chuckles—loudly. “Have you looked up lately?” Benji asks. “The sky looks as if it’ll crack open any minute now! Any animal with sense is hiding right now, anyway.”

True.

“Then we find one without sense, then.”

Benji snorts. “The only thing without sense in this forest is Amos Bracken.”

Without warning, you stop dead in your tracks—leaving Benji to nearly stumble into you. You cast a glare over your shoulder, cold enough that a chill seeps right into his bones. “You’d do well to keep quiet, Benjicot.”

His lip curls, revealing a flash of slightly crooked teeth. “And since when do you call me Benjicot?” He asks, a ribbon of disbelief lacing his own name.

Your jaw tenses, a muscle feathering there.

I don’t know, you think, a pang of uncertainty cracking the ice wall around your heart.

You reinforce ice with steel—turning fully now so that you’re face-to-face, dropping your bow to the ground by your feet. “I won’t let you speak of him that way,” you say, ignoring his question. “My brother is the heir to Stone Hedge–”

A bemused laugh cuts through your words. “Oh, he’s your brother now, is he?”

You speak over him, voice rising. “To insult him is to insult the whole of House Bracken–”

“Fuck House Bracken,” Benji growls.

He takes a half-step closer, towering over you with no more than a foot between you. You don’t falter—don’t look away.

“I am a Bracken."

His head tilts. “Are you? Last I checked, you were practically raised on Blackwood soil.”

“Perhaps,” you admit. “But my wardship is over–”

Benji cuts you off. “Tell me, where was your brother all these years, then? Your father?” He doesn’t let you answer. “No more than a brisk-fucking-walk separating you and yet neither one of them cared to visit with the forgotten daughter of Stone Hedge!”

You’re a Bracken—

“You don’t know them,” you protest weakly, your resolve crumbling.

—through-and-through.

“And you do?” He challenges. Another step, his chest inches from yours. Warmth radiates from his body, seeping into yours and melting melting melting. “Why did your father call you home?”

His words are no more than a breath fanning across your cheek.

Vulnerability permeates your gaze, bearing an unspoken truth. Because war is coming, you convey with no more than a flicker of your lashes, and fate has already decided my role in it.

Benji’s lips tighten to a thin line—and you would’ve thought him ashamed of you, if not for the pain glimmering in his stormy-eyes, lined with silver. “Your father,” he utters, “he will declare for Aegon Targaryen—won’t he?”

You’re a Bracken—

You debate the merits of telling him the truth. Of betraying the plans of your house.

—Take pride in that.

“Aegon Targaryen is the King’s true-born son.” You speak, though you know the words are not your own. “To sit the Iron Throne is his birthright.”

The birthright of a drunken craven.

The betrayal of a beloved princess.

Benji blinks. Shakes his head, his tongue darting along his lips. “He called you home to fight. Humfrey Bracken’s forgotten daughter—useful at long last.”

Rage coils in his tone. Instinct makes your muscles tense.

Nothing is more dangerous than this, your thoughts whisper, a Blackwood and a Bracken, toe-to-toe.

There’s nothing dangerous about the way Benji’s looking at you, though. His gaze soft and tender, calloused hands clenched at his sides—holding himself back, you realize. Not from fighting, but from reaching out to touch something he’s not certain is his.

“Will you do it?” Benji asks, hesitant. “Will you fight for the pretender?”

I don’t want to, you think.

It’s your brother's words that slip past your lips. “I have no choice. My blood runs gold, Benji—a Bracken, through-and-through.”

His brow furrows. Then a hand shifts to the sheath at his hip, sliding his dagger free. “Give me your hand,” he orders, nodding to where they hang at your sides.

You remember his vow to your brother—that he would let no harm befall you. Even without it, you would’ve trusted him. Wholly. Unconditionally.

You lift your hand and, without hesitation, he grips it on his own, pinning the steel tip of his dagger against your palm.

You hiss—hand stinging as the blade drags along your flesh, leaving a thin, shallow cut.

“You’ve always had one foot on either side of the boundary,” Benji starts, his words rushed. Carelessly tossing the dagger to the ground, he grabs your wrist tightly, lifting your palm up towards your own face. “But your blood,” he tells you, his eyes desperate, “has always run red.”

It drips down your wrist—a rivulet of crimson, spilling between his knuckles as he refuses to let go. Red as the color of his tunic—as the specks of blood dried on his own throat, drawn by your brother's sword.

Gold on your back. Red in your veins.

A Bracken by name, but…

“It’s not too late,” Benji says, his words slow and cautious, still cradling your hand in his. “You can come back to Raventree.” Thunder rumbles. Storm-cloud eyes fall to your lips. “You can come home.”

You think of Amos. Of your brother. You’re home now, he had said, a shadow of love in his eyes, Be glad for it.

But home was ancient stone, crawling with moss. Home was the deep, muddy moat that you always threatened to push Benji into when he was getting on your nerves. Home was Black Aly’s voice, scolding you whenever your arms were still too weak to string a bow.

Home was a dead weirwood tree and a boy with stormy eyes.

But duty…

That was something else entirely.

Closing your hand around Benji’s, your chest fills with water as the last of the ice melts. Hard steel turns impossibly soft, your feet shuffling until your body is flush against his—still-entwined hands pinned between your chest, trapped between fabrics of gold and red.

Benji leans down, his forehead pressing against yours. There’s nothing dangerous about him. Nothing unpredictable.

You know him—from the crook in his nose to the scar above his lip. From the lull of his voice to the weight of his steps. His quick temper and his shy smiles.

High above, the sky cries out. Thunder booms, lightning cracks. Misty rain turns to a violent downpour.

And he leans in, oh-so carefully. A trembling breath against slick skin, chapped lips hovering over yours.

“You can come home,” Benji whispers, repeating himself. You can’t think—can’t breathe, as he utters against your mouth, “Let me take you home.”

And he kisses you. A tender, desperate kiss—the kind that drives your lips apart with the sheer force of it. He tugs his hand from yours, slips it out from between your bodies and brings it to rest on the back of your neck, tangling his fingers in damp, rain-soaked hair.

Restraint is no more than a breath in the wind. Desire curls in your stomach. Your pulse pounds in your veins, rich with red red red.

But then there’s your brother’s voice in your head: I don’t trust him.

And you know what he meant was: You’re my sister—my blood, red or gold—and I’m worried about you.

You pull away, breathless and broken, one half of your heart lying on either side of the boundary stones resting miles and miles from here.

Lips still close enough to brush against yours, Benji pants. “Say yes.” The love in his eyes isn’t a shadow. It’s a bright, blinding light. A proud declaration and a howling plea. “Say you’ll come home.”

You look down—to the sigil embroidered on your tunic, to the still-drying blood on your palm

An estranged brother and a forbidden lover.

And you.

The bridge to a great chasm.

The futile remedy to centuries of enmity.

You take a step back—reaching inside of yourself, pulling shriveled vines up your throat, knowing that the words hammering in your chest will be anything but delicate. That they’ll taste of rot in your mouth.

“I’m not sure I have a home, Benjicot.” Pain echoes across his face, each syllable a rusted dagger in his heart. Another step back, grabbing your bow from where it laid in the mud, abandoned what feels like a millennia ago. “Not anymore.”

When you turn to leave, thunder crashing overhead and a sob caught in your throat, you go alone.

The heir to Raventree Hall doesn’t dare to follow.

You walk in silence, your bow hanging at your side. Behind you, there are no snapping twigs and no low, careless whistling. There’s only rain and—

A branch creaks overhead, halting your steps. Your bow is drawn in a single breath, the cut on your palm stinging as you slide an arrow from the quiver slung over your shoulder, readying to shoot. You look up, drops of rain splattering against your cheeks as you scan the trees.

There.

Perched on a wet, mossy limb was a pair of beady eyes staring down at you. A raven, letting out a low, curious croak.

A single shot and you could go back to camp.

A single shot, you tell yourself, and your blood might finally run gold.

A breath—and then the bow string goes slack.

You slip the arrow back into the quiver.

a/n - does any of this even make sense? idk, you tell me lmao. overall, just wanted to play around with capturing the confusion that might ensue for a reader who has no clue where their loyalties lie anymore, lost in who they are and who they think they're meant to be--anyways, hopefully the ending makes sense to you because it makes sense in my brain

anyways

benji tag list (so sorry if I missed you!) - @jacaerysgf @lenasvoid @valdezthg @xzydra11 @snixx2088 @lianna75 @kennafild @ghostinvenus @heystaystray @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @a-song-for-ages

1K notes · View notes

6kuna · 2 months

Text

Dilf! Sukuna would be one of those guys that defend women in danger+ would also be so bad at rizzing girls up that he just sounds desperate and pathetic[endearing]

“You’re the new teacher? I didn’t know they hired young girls these days. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you’d be the reason my son is getting his abc’s” he says as he looks at you up and down savoring every curve and line of your

You gave the parent a benefit of the doubt and took whatever he said as a compliment all while returning his “compliment” with an awkward chuckle.

“Thank you…”

“Say…if you come by my house and give some private lessons for him I’m more than capable to pay you more than the school does” he says smirking hiding the perversed meaning behind his shit request.

It’s the first time some weird parent tries to pull this type of behaviour on you the whole interaction leaves you in shock as you smile awkwardly trying to find the right words to respond and the patience to not punch him in the face. Your heart beats rapidly with your fists turning clammy and white from anxiety of not knowing what or how to respond to the fool of a parent.

“MISS Y/N I MISSED YOUUUUU” a familiar pink haired kid comes running as he gives you a hug. Shocked was an understatement by you were more than grateful for Yuuji to intervene.

“you know me and your teacher were having a conversation don’t your parents tell you that it’s rude to interrupt adults” The random parent says giving Yuuji a fake smile.

“Yeah? I’m the parent.” Sukuna says curtly with the most unamused expression known to man.

The male turns around to take a look at whoever the parent of the funky insolent child only to be greeted by a 6’5 fully tatted male who looked like he was more than capable to break his bones with just a simple flick. It also didn’t help the fact that Sukuna’s aura(lol) was more than threatening enough on its own without having to say a single word.

“I guess kids these days don’t learn enough manners I’ll take my leave for now” the inferior male says gulping as he puts up a front before scrunching up his face as he walks away.

Sukuna glares daggers at the stupid fool making sure he leaves the vicinity.

A huge breath of relief was let out as you kneeled down onto Yuuji’s height thanking him and his scarily hot dad for saving you from whatever the situation was.

“You guys have no idea how thankful i am, Yuuji you and your dad literally saved me”

“WE KNOWWWW, Hiro’s dad is a bit creepy” Yuuji says happily as he brings out a couple of souvenirs from his summer trip with his family to you before running into the building excitedly leaving you and his dad alone.

“Did he ask you if you for private lessons?” Sukuna asks with a smug smile

“Yes- what how did you know?!”

“He’s a douche and a weirdo he says that to every new teacher even the volunteers. I hope you’re okay after that interaction” Sukuna scoffs annoyed at the male’s behaviour. Knowing that Sukuna at his prime would’ve beaten the hell out of the weirdo for making women uncomfortable.

“I’m fine honestly I wish I could return the favour i don’t even know what i would’ve done if you and Yuuji didn’t come by” you say in a appreciative tone

Sukuna upon hearing this immediately takes the opportunity to ask you on something that has been on the back of his mind from the moment he laid eyes on you.

“You can return the favour by coming by my place for dinner I’ll cook, I can even pick you up just let me know when you’re free” he says in the spur of the moment not noticing he sounds like a desperate, desperate man.

You were so shocked at Sukuna’s abrupt response to the point you could literally feel the heat rising onto your cheeks making you smile sheepishly before bursting out in laughter.

“I didn’t think you would ask me that, but im free anytime on Saturday is it fine with you?”

“Saturday? Perfect” he says grinning as he sees you walking away he came to his senses realising he forgot to ask for your number

“You didn’t give me your number” he says from afar

It was your turn to leave him into the flustering mess. You smirked looking back at the giant of a male waiting for your response.

“I have yours don’t worry i’ll text you later” you say playfully.

It was true you do have his number. You’ve saved it from the moment he sent Yuuji on the first day.

Sukuna was lucky enough he didn’t have whatever his dad had cause frankly Sukuna would’ve probably gone into cardiac arrest with that statement alone. With that it is settled Yuuji will be sent off to Toji’s house for a sleepover while his dad gets straight to business.

Edit:not proofread was done when im literally ten secons awya from asleep i appoliguse for shit writing

735 notes · View notes

luveline · 3 months

Note

i know you said hotch and reader baby requests… but what about hotch’s daughter that he met as an adult meeting Jack for the first time? two babies in one! love you 💕

—You meet your little brother, with your dad’s support. fem, 1.6k

To grow up wondering if your father might love you is odd. You spend years wondering if you’d ever know him. Would he be proud of you? Would he like you? If you could find him, would he want you to?

And then you do find him, and you’re floored by how desperately he wants to take care of you.

Honey, his message starts, sent at 5AM that morning. Just to remind you, dinner is at 5PM, but you don’t have to worry about being late. You can come whatever time you like, please let me know beforehand. Jack was so excited last night he couldn’t sleep.

Another sent at 5:16AM. I can’t wait for you to meet him. How are you feeling about it? If this is too much, you don’t have to.

At 5:25AM. Please call me to talk when you’re awake, if you can.

You think perhaps your father might be as nervous as you are to introduce you to his family. Because Aaron, your dad, has a wife and child. Haley, his high school sweetheart (though there had been that brief separation in college that allowed your existence), and Jack, his four year old son.

This might be hard for everyone, but at least you aren’t destroying a family by existing. Aaron didn’t do anything wrong in getting your mother pregnant. He had no idea about it until you showed up at his office.

You rub your tired eyes and decide against calling him right away. You have work soon, and he’s probably at his own place of work already. Instead, you make yourself a cup of tea and breakfast you can’t eat. Turns out you’re more nervous than you thought.

You call him on your lunch break.

He said you can call him whenever you want, just he’s busy, and can’t always answer. He also said you can call him whatever you want. It had been a strangely touching moment at one of your ‘catching up on a whole life’ dinners. Mr. Hotchner was extremely formal, and made him laugh every time you said it. Aaron was better, but you could call him dad, if you liked. The paternity test agreed.

“Will that be weird for you?” you’d asked.

“Honey, I’ve had someone calling me dad for the last four years. You can call me what you want.”

Some part of you wished he insisted, but maybe it’s best the choice be down to you.

“Hello?” he asks as he picks up. “Y/N?”

The will to call him dad dies. It’s too awkward, what if he hates it? “Hello,” you say instead, stammering trying to sound natural.

“Hi, honey. Are you still coming to dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it.”

After an investigation and a mother’s confession, you found Aaron Hotchner online. Watched him behind podiums and sat at conference tables, even found his guest lecture at your university. It was a few years before you’d attended, but you can’t help thinking: what if you’d watched him talk? Would you have known he was your father? Of course, you couldn’t know. But maybe he would have.

Aaron took one good look at you in his office and believed you. Well, you had a photo of him and your mom, and you offered to take a paternity test then and there, but he told you he knew pretty quickly.

“You okay?”

“Just terrified,” you say.

“Haley… Haley isn’t mad at anyone. She has,” —he clears his throat— “a very tight picture of her life in her head, and her husband having a child without her wasn’t in that picture, but she also has a really big heart. I promise you have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not Haley I’m scared of.”

“Honey, Jack can’t stop telling people he has a new sister. People keep giving Haley congratulations.”

You rub your eyes. You’ll be surprised if your makeup survives the day. “Are you sure you even want me to come?”

“I want you more than anything.”

Which doesn’t answer the question you’d voiced, but reassures the one you’d been thinking. “I just wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want me to. I can’t imagine how terrible this has been for you. I’ve disrupted your whole life.”

“Is that what you think?” he asks gently.

You can imagine him sitting at his desk. His office was roomy, with heavy furniture, big windows, and a gaggle of photo frames on the desk. He is intimidating, but he doesn’t talk to you with any meanness, or sternness. He’s been careful with you this whole time, so no, you’ve no reason to think he doesn’t want you around, but maybe he’s too good a man to admit it.

“If it’s too much for now, we can wait,” he says. “We have all the time in the world. But I promise it won’t be what you’re thinking. You certainly aren’t disrupting my life.”

You decide to be brave about it and go to dinner. Only when you’re standing on the Hotchner porch do you remember he’d wanted to talk to you about something. He opens the door quietly, ushering you in with a smile, and before you know it he’s offering a hug in the small foyer.

“Hi,” he says, patting your back. Your hands rest tentatively on his sides.

“Hi.”

He holds you at arm’s length before dropping his touch. “You look pretty,” he says.

Which is a whole other category of thing. “Thank you. Is this the sort of thing you wear to dinner?”

“You can wear pyjamas, if you like. Jack usually does.”

“That would make a good first impression.”

Haley appears from a doorway. “Oh, you’re here,” she says, smiling. “Hello, hello!”

You get another hug. Haley smells like expensive perfume and softness. Her hair is perfect. She’s one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen, and it’s emphasised by her glowing smile. “Jack is bouncing off the walls, but he might get a little shy when he really gets to meet you.” Her smile softens. “Wow. You don’t look much like him, but you have his frown. How’s that possible?” She nudges Aaron. “You’re so moody it’s in your DNA.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just nervous,” you explain.

“Me too,” Haley says.

“It’ll be okay.” Aaron gives Haley a squeeze around the shoulders. “He’s in the living room. Are you ready?”

“Maybe she should go in by herself.”

You and Aaron both stare at Haley.

“I should?” you ask.

She shrugs. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere. But maybe Aaron can introduce you and then bow out. It’s less pressure on both of you.”

You honestly couldn’t agree less with her, and Aaron’s giving her a dubious frown, but she’s Jack’s mom and your dad’s wife and you’re too scared of upsetting her to disagree.

Aaron, however, isn’t worried. “You don’t have to,” he says, giving Haley a rub on her shoulder, “it’s just a suggestion.”

“It’s okay. Um, whatever you guys think is best.”

So Aaron opens the living room door and walks you in.

Jack is drawing a bright picture on the floor, surrounded by a spread of crayons and washable markers. He has a huge sketch pad, where light from the TV stains the white with cartoon colours.

“Jack.” Aaron touches the back of your arm. “Bud, Y/N’s here for dinner.”

Jack whirls. As predicted, he sees you and his smile turns to shyness. You’re feeling shy, too, tempted to hide behind Aaron’s arm, but stepping forward when he prompts you to.

“Hi, Jack,” you say.

“Hi,” he says, lookin at Aaron.

“This is your big sister,” Aaron says.

Because Jack is your little brother. Half brother, but brother. You weren’t expecting to feel so awed.

You step out of your heels, you should’ve at the door, and use the armrest of the couch to lower yourself onto your knees. You just wanna see him.

He’s quite big, for his age. He’s tall. He has brown hair with slightly blond ends, and his eyes are big, flush with dark lashes. You have some of the same DNA, but you’re not sure you could tell with the two of you side by side.

“You look like your mommy,” you say.

“You don’t,” Jack says.

“I look more like my mommy.” You smile at him. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack.”

“You don’t look like a sister,” Jack says. “You’re old.”

“I’m not that old.”

Aaron laughs and touches your shoulder again. It’s nice to think he’s standing by.

“I… I can still do big sister stuff, even if I’m old,” you hedge gently. “I can still do fun stuff, I swear. I’m super fun.”

Jack pulls himself on knees to sit very close to you. He takes the skirt of your dress into his hand and pets it. “What if we ruin your dress?” he says worriedly.

“I have so many like this, it’s okay.”

His smile warms. “Okay. You want to colour with me?”

“Yes, yeah, I do. I really want to, what can we colour?”

“I’ll draw you a picture.”

You look up at Aaron with a smile that threatens to set with the wind. You’d be stuck like that, grinning with a mixture of relief, pride, and affection.

“I’m gonna go help Haley set the table,” he tells you. You’re probably wanting more than he’s giving, but you swear, he talks with love. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, dad,” Jack says, taking your hand to pull you to the crayons. “We’re gonna colour now.”

“Okay, buddy. Draw me something nice.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

784 notes · View notes

wilwheaton · 2 months

Note

hello mr wil wheaton when you were my age (like exactly i think) you were filming stand by me

I turned 13 during production, so if you're about to become a teenager, I hope you'll let me offer some thoughts that I wish an adult had shared with me, then?

I know this is a wall of text, and giving someone this much of your attention is a HUGE ask. Maybe bookmark this for another time, if you're not into hearing an old man talk.

I wrote this a few days before I turned 50. Thank you in advance for listening, and I wish you a life filled with joy, unconditional love, kindness, and adventure.

Hey everyone! An old man is talking!

In seven days, I will be 50 years-old. This is ... weird. I do not feel the way I expected I would feel when I was approaching 50, nor do any of my friends. The only time I feel like I'm middle-aged is when my body does some bullshit that takes me down for hours because I had the nerve to stand up quickly. And I really hate it when I have to use the flashlight on my phone to see a menu. I mean, at that point, I may as well be dropping my pants for free and singing the Old Gray Mare.

Anyway. This has been on my mind for a little bit, so I had something to say when someone used my tumblr ask me thingy earlier this week:

Q: I hope I'm as cool as you when I'm 49. I'd like to think I'm taking the right steps towards that version of myself. A: So I'm not sure I'm cool, but I do know that I don't suck, and that it's a choice I make every day. I desperately wish someone in my family had told me, or shown me by example, that getting older doesn't mean getting stupid and boring and stuffy and extremely uncool. I wish I'd known that, because I spent all of my life until I was in my 40s feeling like there was this day coming very soon when I would have to stop listening to punk, stop playing video games, put on a suit, and start yelling at kids for no good reason. I didn't know that you don't have to suddenly stop being who you are and become something or someone you hate, just because of a certain age. I know that's super obvious, but to young me, it was not. My dad was an asshole, my mom never showed up for me. Directors and people on set had been treating me like a thing for my entire life. I got yelled at for no reason from adults who knew better almost every day. Most of my elementary school teachers were authoritarian, evangelical assholes. All of these different adults, consistently, shut me down and made me feel like I didn't matter, the things I liked were stupid, and my opinions were invalid because of reasons I didn't understand because I was a dumb kid. So I presumed that when you got to be a certain age, that's what happened. I didn't want to be that, at all, and I was sincerely afraid of the day it would happen. But as I got older, I discovered that all that stuff I hated about adults doesn't automatically happen. Those adults I just mentioned all made a choice to be an asshole. I just didn't know it. I was in my early 20s when I did a movie with a cinematographer who was, I think, 45 at the time. He was the coolest, kindest, most artistic dude I'd ever known. He mentored me and we had epic fun making great art together. I remember telling him, "I'm not afraid of being in my 40s like I used to be. I didn't know you could still be cool." It's sad, that I grew up in such a toxic environment, and didn't know any of these things. So, 9 days before I turn 50, here are a couple things I have figured out: You know who sucks when they hit 49 and 50? People who sucked when they were 20 and never grew up. You know who is an asshole at 49 and 50? Yep. Someone who was an asshole as a kid and never experienced consequences for being an asshole. Hitting middle age has been awesome for me. Other than the aging of my body and its reluctance / refusal to do what I want it to do, I love everything about it. I wish I hadn't spent so much of my life being afraid that, when I hit 50, it was all over. Because honestly it's kind of just starting. The coolest stuff in my life to date has all happened in the last ten years, and I'm so grateful that it coincided with me figuring out a lot of shit so I could enjoy it.

The best part of getting older, by several thousand light years, is the part where we figure out how to stop putting up with other people's bullshit, and we contract our social circle until it's only populated with a VERY few people who deserve us. And I am incredibly grateful for these occasional opportunities to be a 49 year-old dad who can say all the things that would have been reassuring for 19 year-old me to hear (he wouldn't have understood, but 29 year-old me would have remembered, and he would have understood. I think.) I sincerely hope someone hears it and finds it helpful. Anyway, you're gonna be fine. Just remember that being cool, kind, honest, honorable, reliable, listening and showing up … they are all choices. If you want to be cool when you're 49, make the choice and set the example for someone to follow you. Treat kids the way you wanted to be treated when you were young. Listen to them when they offer you the privilege, because that means they trust you, and you have credibility with them. Be a mentor. Be supportive. Show up. Make a choice to be the person you need in the world, and never stop being that person. Start today, and when you're nearing 50 like I am, hopefully you'll remember who you needed right now, so you can be that person to someone else in the future. You're already asking the right questions and taking the first steps. I believe in you. You've got this.

Okay, if you've come this far, perhaps you'll follow me a little bit more, and read a thing I wrote about talking to students just a tiny bit older than you, which contains my core values.

Be honest. I’m a very old man, relative to y’all, and I’ve learned that the only currency that really matters in this world is the truth.

Be honorable. This dovetails with number one. You attract to yourself what you put into the world. Dishonorable people will take everything from you and leave you with nothing. Do your best to be a person they aren’t attracted to.

Work hard. I don’t mean, like, at your crappy minimum wage job you hate. I mean do the hard work that makes relationships work, that gets you ahead in your education, that gets you closer to your goals. Everything worth doing is hard. Everything worth doing requires hard work. Sooner or later, you’re going to run into something in your life that’s really hard, and you’ll want to give up, but it’s something you care so much about, you’ll do whatever you can to achieve it. It’s going to be hard, but it’s going to be less hard for someone who has practiced doing the hard things all along, than it is for someone who doesn’t know how to do the hard work because they’ve always chosen the easy path.

Always do your best. Even if you don’t get the result you wanted, doing your best — which will vary from day to day, moment to moment — is all you can ever do. We tell athletes to leave it all on the field. Whatever your version of that is, do it.

This is the most important one. This is the one I hope you’ll all hear and embrace. This is the one I hope you’ll share with your peers: Always be kind.”

When I read number 5, I looked up at them. I was so happy to see a classroom filled with teenagers who were all listening intently, even the ones I thought had tuned me out. “Here’s the thing about being Kind, versus being Nice,” I said. “I have interacted with lots of nice people who are incredibly unkind. Why is that? How do you choose to be nice but not kind?”

I pointed to my head. “This is where nice comes from,” I said. Then, I put my hand over my heart. “This is where kind comes from.” I put my hands out, like, “get it?”

There was this collective gasp of realization that I did not expect, at all. One kid said “Oh damn!” I saw a few kids look at each other like the trick had just been explained to them. They heard me. They really, really heard me. And it was amazing.

Okay, that's all. If you're still here, thank you for giving me so much of your time and attention. I hope you'll come back in a few years, and let me know how you're doing.

654 notes · View notes

etheries1015 · 9 months

Text

He finds you falling apart; in complete shambles, a sobbing mess.

Malleus

He isn't certain how to handle such strong emotions, he doesn't know what to do when he finds you sobbing in the garden. As the tears fall down your cheeks and you mutter apologies to the fae, All he can do is sit next to you and kindly offer his shoulder and words of comfort, waiting for you to calm down so he may ask what is causing your soul such misery.

He hopes you will communicate what it is he could do to assist you. If a hug is what you need, he shall provide. If silence is what you wish for, he will grant it as such. If you are in dire need of a distraction, he knows a place you will adore while he speaks about its history. He is not the type to simply assume what will help in this situation- he will awkwardly hover until you guide him to the best possible course of action.

You must expect to find new trinkets and shiny objects to come your way for the next week- he wants to make it abundantly clear he wishes for you to smile once more, and he hopes to achieve that by his little gifts.

"My dearest, what causes these tears to flow so heavy from your eyes? Whatever it may be, I shall be by your side and face it with you, for you needn't suffer alone. Now tell me, who do I need to confront for stealing your precious smile away from me?"

Lilia

Lilia had known the ins and outs of emotions fairly well. He could easily read people- you were no exception. He understands immediately if you need a hug, to be left in peace, or to be endlessly pampered. Upon hearing your painful wails of sorrow, he was quick to react.

Any attemps at apologizing to him for your sobs were fallen upon deaf ears. You were quickly chastised for those "sorrys" and were engulfed in his embrace, his hand stroking your hair or rubbing circles on your back gently with a tune of old escaping his lips. He had used this method for his inconsolable children in the past, and he found it just as effective for adults as well.

Even thanking the fae for being there for you was also quickly shut down. He insists that you need not thank or apologize to him for your tears, for you were important to him thus it was a requirement he be there in your time of misery. You felt comfortable talking to him about your woes, the red eyed fae listening intently whilst brewing you tea, setting up video games, or cooking you a meal (you didn't have much of the energy to reject this offer, he was doing it purely out of concern for your being. Crying takes a lot of of someone, he must do his due diligence and be certain you are properly sustained!)

"Ah...it pains me to see such tears. Remember, time moves forward, and you shall prevail past this little bump in the road, my little bat. Would you like to talk to me about it? I give good advice, if I do say so myself! Or shall we change the pace and play some games? I am not moving from this spot until you are smiling and laughing again!"

Kisses, cuddles, and comfort <3

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst x reader #malleus #malleus x reader #twst lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia x reader #i was crying until i started writing this to vent and now im slay #delusion for the win

1K notes · View notes

sylusjinwoon · 3 months

Text

{ 190 }

labor of love.

kenji (ken) sato x fem.reader

ken sato had never known the joys of being pampered and cared for in his adult life-

that is, until the moment he meets you.

you were someone he believed he never truly deserved; a woman who was far too giving, far too kind for the likes of him. yet against all odds, you were someone who remained by his side, knowing of his struggles with taking on the responsibilities of ultraman while maintaining his status as a star baseball player.

you kept him grounded; filling his days with joy when the weight of own personal world was on the brink of collapse as you gave him an unconditional type of love. he never had to hide his emotions or his true self from you when things got hard-

and he loved you dearly for it.

coming home from practice with his team, ken parks his motorbike on his driveway, settled directly next to your car as he smiles at the sight of it. knowing you were already home fills his heart with joy as ken walks with a noticeable bounce in his step up to his house.

his keys weren’t even inserted into the keyhole when the front door suddenly opens, revealing your beautiful features to him. ken smiles, calling out your name with a fondness as you eagerly welcome him into your embrace. “kenji! you’re home…”

he chuckles and wraps his arms around you, stepping into the living room with you still clinging to him while locking the door in the process. “yeah, i’m home, babe.” he brushes his lips against your hair, watching as you scrunch up your nose in response.

“gross, ken, you smell musky and damp.”

feigning offense to your words, ken ends up wrapping the entirety of his limbs around your form, earning a series of giggles from you. filled with affection and a playfulness for you, ken ends up leaning the entirety of his weight on your back, making you let out a grunt as you dragged him with you into the bathroom.

“you’re such a big baby, ken…!”

“yeah? well i’m your big baby, sweets.” ken finally loosens up his hold on you, bringing you back into his powerful embrace when his eyes take in the sight of his bathtub filled to the brim with warm water.

ken could feel his muscles aching with need from the sight, the memory of his coach’s training regimen coming back to him in full force as he let out a loud groan. “babe, for real? you did all this for me?”

“of course i did, you big baby.” you hum while peeling off the rest of his clothes, not stopping until he was bare for you as you carefully lead him into the tub filled with piping hot water. as you help him get into the tub, ken lets out a hiss in response before visibly relaxing, letting out a sigh before submerging the entirety of his body beneath the waters.

“honey, you shouldn’t have… but i ain’t gonna start complaining now.”

your constant giggles were like music to ken’s ears as he felt your hands massaging at his shoulders, working out all the tension his muscles had developed during practice today. “baaaabbbby damn, this feels so good. you’re spoilin’ me too much.”

his voice was drawn out, letting out deep grunts and purrs of your name as you continued to treat him with your massages. when you were certain he was satisfied, you turn away from him and grab his trademark beer, cracking open the can for him while silently beckoning your beloved to take a hold of it.

“holy shit, what in the hell did i ever do to deserve you?”

you giggle again and give him a loving smile, carefully wetting his dark strands of hair before lathering it with his favorite shampoo. you work on massaging his scalp, basking in his groans before admitting to him, “what can i say? my beloved is a star baseball player and ultraman; of course i’d wish to spoil you, kenny.”

ken visibly blushes at the sound of your nickname for him. he lets out a gentle scoff, trying to hide his embarrassment by taking a sip of his beer. the smile was heard from your voice, and you continue to wash his hair until he was satisfied.

after helping him rinse off his hair, you carefully dress your boyfriend in his signature silk robe, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips before leading him back into the kitchen. “sit at the table and i’ll heat up dinner for you.”

ken hums, but stops you from moving when he grips at your wrist to press another chaste kiss against your lips. “you know how much i love you, right?”

“of course i know, you dweeb. i wouldn’t have stayed by your side if you weren’t as crazy about me as i am about you.”

ken rolls his eyes upon hearing your words, but couldn’t stop the blush from deepening against his cheeks. finally, he lets you go and allows you to heat up dinner, continuing to take casual sips of his beer all while eagerly waiting for your return.

within the next 15 minutes, you come back to the dining table and place a piping hot plate of omurice in front of him, drawn with a cute ketchup heart on top of it. feeling like he was on top of the world right now, he gives you a grateful smile before digging into his food, telling you how delicious it tasted as he practically devours his meal within seconds.

not only was his stomach full, but his heart as well. ken was filled to the brim with so much love for you that he honestly felt as though he were living in a dream. as if mesmerized by your tender love and care, ken simply follows you without saying a word, allowing you to take his hand before leading him back to your shared bedroom.

you slowly take off his silk robe, helping him get into his shirt and sweatpants before beckoning him to get into bed. he does so with a low grunt, his handsome features slowly upturned in a smirk before teasing you.

“heh… i’m surprised you haven’t pounced on me yet with the amount of times you’ve seen me naked…”

you roll your eyes at his attempts at seducing you, “don’t be ridiculous, ken, you’re exhausted and mentally drained right now.”

ken merely hums in response, his eyelids starting to grow heavier while yawning. once he was tucked in, you had every intention of finishing up some chores around the house when ken manages to stop you, his large hand gripping at your wrist. you look back at him with a smile, hearing him mutter to you, “mmm stay….”

“you want me to stay with you?”

cue ken giving you a sleepy nod.

“but i’ve got dishes to clean.”

“fuck the dishes.”

you let out a gasp when ken takes advantage of his strength to pull you back into bed with him. he lets out a satisfied hum, allowing you to rest your head on his broad chest. the sound of his calm heartbeat against your ear makes you visibly relax, finding comfort within his warmth while being surrounded by his scent.

“you’re spoiled, you know that, kenny?”

“hmph… y’love me anyways.”

you giggle and nod, pressing a kiss against his chest. “you’ve got me there, kenji.” was your whispered reply, but by now, you were certain that he had fallen asleep. you could feel the way his chest rose and fell in tune with his breathing, making you smile in response.

with a sigh, you cuddle your body closer to his, feeling your eyelids grow heavier before falling into a peaceful slumber. for the next several minutes, silence was heard, and only when ken was certain that you were in a deep sleep did he open one eye to look down at you. remaining ever so careful with his movements, he takes a hold of your left hand and makes a note of your ring finger, already imagining the perfect engagement ring for you.

he lets out a gentle whisper of your name before pressing a kiss against your left ring finger. “i hope you’re ready to be mine forever, babe, because there’s no way in hell i’m letting someone as good as you go.”

a.n. - ken is so cute tbh tbh, i can’t stop thinking about how cute and soft he looks in ultraman rising ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#kenji sato x reader #sato kenji x reader #ken sato x reader #sato ken x reader #kenji sato x y/n #sato kenji x y/n #ken sato x y/n #sato ken x y/n #kenji sato x you #sato kenji x you #ultraman x reader #ken sato x you #sato ken x you #.stories

655 notes · View notes

howcouldmuffin · 1 month

Text

First Choice II

[ Chapter 2 : Duties and Needs ]

We can’t always get what we desire indefinitely. Every choice comes with its own set of responsibilities. It’s up to you to decide whether you’ll rise to the occasion or not.

PAIRING : Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

WARNING : SFW, Targaryen Incest, Non-canon

AN : I really like the current scene and am trying to write it as well as possible. I hope you enjoy it.

CONTENTS : Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

After the last conversation, there was no further dialogue. Viserys decided to take everyone hunting, it must have been something the adults discussed that day. You were quite excited because it was well known that your father was frequently ill, making outings difficult.

The king’s command caused a stir in the palace. The grand expedition of the Targaryens was attracting the attention of all Westeros. Sometimes, there was even a competition for hunting, who could catch the largest game, or who could hunt the rarest animal.

You knew that the groups would be divided for hunting, and you would learn which group had whom based on the king’s wishes. You thought your father might pair you with one of your brothers or perhaps a guard, but instead, he paired you with Jacaerys.

After learning the results, he looked at you and walked out of the gathering tent. He must have been disappointed with the pairing. Once everyone learned their partners, they dispersed to prepare. You went to choose the horse you would ride for the day.

In the stables, there were only a few stablehands and soldiers. You walked straight to the horse you usually rode, Elysian. You watched it for a moment, it was an intelligent and fast horse. You stroked its head and neck slowly. It recognized you.

“I’d like to ride this one.” you said to the stablehand.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Your Highness. Someone else has already chosen this horse.” the stablehand replied, surprising you. Normally, no one else chose Elysian except you.

“Who chose it?” you asked the stablehand. He hesitated for a moment, looking down and avoiding your gaze, which only made you more curious about who it was.

“It was me.” came the voice. It was Jacaerys, walking with Baela. “I selected it for Baela.”

“If the princess wishes to ride this horse, I can choose another for her.” Baela said quickly, her face flustered compared to Jacaerys, who remained indifferent. You looked at Elysian before making a decision.

“It’s alright. I must have arrived too late.” you replied, and began looking around. “I’ll find another horse.” You gave them a faint smile and did as you said.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Baela said, and you nodded at her, searching for a suitable horse, which proved to be somewhat difficult.

“I’ve selected a horse for you, Princess.” Jacaerys said, leading you to a horse he had chosen. “This one.” he pointed to a beautiful white horse, not unlike Elysian but slightly larger and more fitting for you.

“What’s its name?” You stroked the horse that Jacaerys had chosen. It was very docile and seemed to suit you well.

“It doesn’t have a name yet. It’s a new horse. If the princess wishes, you may name it.” stablehand said.

“This horse looks like it could run fast. I’ll name it Breeze.” you decided.

“That’s a fitting name, Your Highness.”

“Well then, you should go prepare.” Jacaerys said, reminding you. You nodded in acknowledgment and walked away. It was always uncomfortable to be around him, and both of you knew that the awkwardness between you was considerable, hoping it would diminish over time.

Soon, the bell rang, signaling that everyone could enter the forest. You and the prince set off. At first, there were two soldiers following, but Jacaerys soon dismissed them, saying you could protect yourselves. You were confident in your ability to manage, though you wondered if he might see you as a burden.

“What do you think we’ll encounter first, Your Highness?” you asked.

“Probably a rabbit or a squirrel.” he replied. “And you? What do you think we’ll see first?”

“Maybe a snake.” you said. He chuckled slightly. “Or perhaps a bird.”

“Yes, it might be a bird.”

And then there was silence again. Both of you rode on aimlessly, meandering along the stream, hoping to spot an animal drinking water. You were about to ask something when a faint sound caught your attention—an animal, not small. You turned to Jacaerys, he nodded in acknowledgment and immediately sought the source of the sound.

It soon became clear that it was a large bear approaching. When it noticed you, it charged at you. Jacaerys, faster, drew his crossbow and shot at the bear, but it didn’t fall. You drew your bow from your back and fired additional arrows until the bear was subdued. Jacaerys dismounted and approached it slowly. You followed, still keeping your bow ready.

“You’re very skilled with a bow, Princess.” he said, turning to you with a smile. You returned his smile, pleased that he seemed more open and accepting of you.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” you said, putting your bow away. “Should we tie it to the horse and let our horses drink at the stream for a while?”

“That’s a good idea. This bear is quite large, and we wouldn’t want to return with nothing.”

You rested on a log by the stream, watching both horses drink. Jacaerys sat down next to you slowly. He was charming and easily captivated those around him. He turned to you.

“What else have you learned besides archery?”

“Fencing, horse riding, and other things boys like you do.” you replied.

“But do you also learn the things girls learn?”

You nodded. He looked surprised and somewhat skeptical. It’s unusual for a lady to wield a sword or a bow like a man. Ladies don’t typically know the names of weapons as men do. If it weren’t for your desire to earn favor from someone you loved, you might not have pursued such skills. As others say, a proper lady shouldn’t act like a man without shame.

“If you need advice on weapons, you may consult me, Your Highness. I’m not an expert but I know a bit.”

The sound of leaves crunching made you reach for the dagger at your waist and look around. Both of you saw a large deer approaching, much larger than usual. Something urged you to stand up and approach it as well. It showed no fear toward you or Jacaerys, walking directly toward you as if to communicate something. When you got close, it lay down. You stroked its head, and it submitted willingly.

“This kind of deer is rarely seen here.” Jacaerys said. “It’s magnificent.”

“But we can’t take it with us. It might suffer.” you observed. “It seems fine, not injured.”

“I think it really came to us.” he said. “Look, its herd has left.” You looked in the direction he pointed, and it was true. It had intentionally separated from its herd to come to you.

“This deer has such beautiful antlers.” you said. “What should we do?”

“Since it came to you, you decide” he said, giving you the opportunity to make the choice as he walked closer to the deer.

“If we think about keeping it, its chances of survival are less than letting it go. But since it came to us, I think we should make sure it doesn’t suffer and take it back as our prize.”

Jacaerys nodded in agreement with your decision and put the deer out of its misery with minimal suffering before tying it to the horse and heading back to the gathering point. Throughout the journey back, you and he exchanged conversations. His horse carried the large deer while yours carried the bear, according to the horse’s capacity.

When you returned, everyone was clearly surprised. You and Jacaerys talked and had managed to hunt two animals. The result was a unanimous victory for you and the prince. You both smiled at each other like never before. It was surprising that the two of you could truly become friends.

Weeks have passed since the hunt, and your relationship with Jacaerys has noticeably improved. Conversations while walking through the corridors at night, riding dragons together in the morning, and occasionally sharing meals have become routine. Yet, you still sense that the wall he has up against you hasn’t completely disappeared. Everything seems to require time.

“Do you want to go dragon riding with me today?” he asks as he walks in while you’re writing a letter to your brother, something you don’t do often but always keep up with.

“After I finish writing this” he comes and sits across from you. “You can go ahead, I’ll catch up with you.”

“I’d rather watch you write.” Jacaerys says as he continues to watch you, making you think you should hurry up and finish so you can do what he wants.

“You don’t have to rush. I enjoy watching you.” He reply.

“What’s so interesting about my face?”

“It’s because you’re beautiful and pleasant to look at.”

“I don’t see it.”

“You should trust me, I’m a witness.”

“Well, then, I suppose I’ll believe you.” you say. You look up and meet his gaze before looking down. “Are you going to practice sword fighting today?” you ask, trying to act normally to distract him, even though your face is flushed and your heart is beating faster.

“Will you come watch?”

“Does it matter?”

“It would… would be nice! to have someone to give me advice.”

“Today, I might not be able to. I have a cooking lesson with Oliver.”

“Oh, that sounds... well, interesting.” he replies, somewhat awkwardly. “Will you bring me some pastries again?”

“I’m not sure. I might not make pastries, but if you want, I can bake something for you.” you offer. He falls silent, making you look up at him. He stares at you with a slightly disappointed expression. When you catch him looking, he turns away, almost as if avoiding blame.

“Or you can come to the kitchen and have lunch with me.” you suggest with a smile, wondering if he might be very particular about food.

“Alright, let’s have lunch together.”

“I’m done writing now. Let’s go.” you say as you get up and gather your things. He stands up as well, his face showing the excitement of a child who’s happy to have someone to play with. You secretly hope that perhaps this could be more than just a good friendship. But for now, quietly falling in love with him might be enough.

“What do you think about joining me to visit the orphans?” you ask, as you both head out of the room towards the Dragonpit.

He turns to you with a warm smile, one he’s been giving you more often lately. “I’d love to go with you.”

“That’s wonderful.” you reply with a smile of your own. “I’ll need to prepare some toys for the children, then. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled!”

“Do you think the children will like the toys we've brought for them?” you ask Vidah while she is doing your hair.

“They’ll definitely love them.” she replies. “You’ve also prepared some small treats for them, haven’t you? Who wouldn’t be happy about that? And with a prince coming to see them too.”

“I’ve also prepared to tell them a few stories and brought something for the prince.” you say, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. “Do you think he’ll be willing to narrate?”

“If the princess asks, he surely will.” Vidah says confidently.

You frequently visit the orphanage, helping the children as much as you can because they are the future of the city. Some are sent to school, the strong ones are trained, and the girls are placed to serve noble families, as much help as you can provide.

“It’s finished.” Vidah announces. “You look beautiful as always.”

Today, you chose to wear a blue dress with a low neckline and sleeveless design. You wore minimal jewelry and avoided anything that might make the children uncomfortable. You opted for a shorter dress for ease of movement. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment before heading out.

“I’ll wait at the carriage.” you tell your maid. She nods and leaves to prepare additional items for you. You notice a bit more hustle and bustle than usual but don’t think much of it, assuming it’s just a prince or princess being demanding.

You walk to the castle exit but see no sign of the prince. You assume he might be coming soon. You climb into the carriage and try not to think too negatively. However, after waiting for nearly half an hour, you begin to understand that he might not come.

A knock on the carriage door makes you hopeful, but when Vidah opens it, it’s another maid. Vidah speaks with her, and both their faces show concern. After their conversation ends, the maid turns to you with bad news.

“What happened?” you ask her.

“The prince is unable to join us.” she replies.

“Why?” you ask. “Does he have an urgent command?”

“No, Your Highness.” she replies hesitantly. “Lady Baela was injured. She fell off her horse while checking its condition, so the prince had to rush to her.”

“And… is she seriously hurt?” you ask, feeling a mix of disappointment, sympathy, and confusion.

“No, Your Highness. Just a few bruises and minor scratches.”

You are at a loss for words. You don’t want to believe that you aren’t important enough to keep the appointment. You feel deeply disappointed. Baela did nothing wrong, but the fault seems to lie with you for being insignificant to him.

“If you wish, you may cancel the visit.” Vidah offers. You consider it for a moment before responding.

“No, I will not cancel. Let’s go. The children have been waiting long enough.” you decide. Vidah goes to inform the soldiers outside, and a maid comes to comfort you. She hugs you in silence. You must not be sad and need to adjust your mood because the children are probably feeling worse than you. You want to be a positive presence for them.

When you arrive, as expected, the children’s faces light up upon seeing you. They smile with innocent joy and no pretense. You smile back at them. Some children peek around, probably looking for their prince.

“I must apologize for being late today.” you tell the children.

“What about the prince?” one little girl asks. You smile at her.

“Our prince has many duties and received an urgent command today, which prevented him from joining us. But he kindly sent delicious treats instead. Do you understand?”

The children look at each other, puzzled. Whispers start among them. Some look disappointed while others talk to their friends.

“The prince said he would definitely visit next time.” you reassure them. “Now, who would like to have some treats from the prince? Raise your hands!” You nod to the maid to start distributing the treats. They seem very happy when each child receives their share. The room quiets down once the treats are distributed, and you sit in the middle to continue with the next activity.

“Next, I will tell you some stories. If you want me to tell all of them, you need to be good listeners. Do you understand?” The children nod. “Once upon a time…”

“Are you going to the orphanage again, little sister?” Aegon asked at the dinner table.

“Yes.” you responded, not looking up and continuing to eat. You could feel Jacaerys’s gaze on you, but you ignored it, not wanting to see his face because it made you feel worse.

“Does your sister go there often?” This time, it was the eldest sister asking Rhaenyra. You didn’t talk to her much, but she was always kind to you.

“Often, yes.”

“That’s quite an interesting hobby. If you ever want to go again, let me know, and I’ll help with the children’s supplies.”

“How will those children grow up without parents?” Aegon spoke up.

“That’s why we must provide them with love and warmth instead.”

“A noble duty.” your brother said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

“Most of their parents are soldiers, and if they aren’t, they died from illness. Their mothers are the same. And they are our people, Aegon.”

“Your sister is right. You should learn to care about something more useful, Aegon.” your grandfather said. You were surprised because it was he who said this. Your brother fell silent immediately and regretted his words.

“Never mind. It’s good that you care for the people as a princess.” Viserys said to you, “and I hope you’ll come to understand soon.” He then addressed Aegon. “Have you both decided what you want as a prize for winning the hunting competition?”

“Not yet, Your Grace.” Jacaerys replied.

“That’s fine. No need to rush.”

“Lady Baela, I heard you fell from your horse. May the gods bless you.” your mother said to her.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Baela replied. You noticed Jacaerys staring at you again, and it started to annoy you. You couldn’t tolerate it any longer.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I’m very tired today and need to retire.” you said.

“Go rest then.” Viserys said.

“I think it’s a good idea for me to escort the princess to her chambers.” Jacaerys said. You looked at the king, who nodded in agreement. He wouldn’t dare refuse his beloved nephew. You left the dining room without waiting for the prince.

Walking through the quiet corridors, he followed closely behind. You quickened your pace as much as possible, only now realizing how far your room was. You were angry, but it was not unusual to rush to someone you cared about when they were hurt. You might do the same.

“I’m sorry.” he said. “I know I didn’t make it to our appointment because—”

“I know why you couldn’t come.” you said, turning to him. “I understand, Your Highness. I have no right to be angry with you.”

“Next time, I’ll go with you.” he said, taking your hand and looking into your eyes. If it had been you a few days ago, you might have easily fallen for this trap.

“Let’s talk about this another day. I’m very tired and need to go now.” you said, pulling your hand away and walking into your room without looking back at him. It was undeniable that you were hurt, but did you have the right to be? He was only fulfilling his duty as a good friend. You were only betrothed in name, not because you truly loved each other. It hurt to know he liked someone else, not you. It hurt deeply.

tag list : @r3va-dwme @ladyofvelaryon @mckennah123 @ericasabe @yohanseyebrowmole @mah1644

#‧⁺◟ lyn writing table *•#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader

396 notes · View notes

witchywithwhiskey · 4 months

Note

how about ransom and “i mean, i got what i wanted, didn’t i?” 👀🫶🏼

can't resist a dare

pairing: best friend!ransom drysdale x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship, taking nude photos/sending nude photos, filming/recording/taking photos during sex, little bit of exhibitionism, come marking, come facial, light bdsm, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, pet names (baby), aftercare, friends to lovers, revenge on a mean/rude ex

word count: 4,300ish

a/n: whoops, this ended up being longer than i anticipated 😬 but i loved the premise i came up with too much to scrap it and try to write something shorter so here we go!! i just loved the idea of best friend!ransom being a petty perv and reader being just as much of a petty perv 🤭 anyway i hope you enjoy!!! ♡♡♡

You never could resist a dare from Ransom Drysdale.

The devastatingly handsome grandson of Harlan Thrombey had been your best friend since you were children running around his grandfather’s spooky old house while your families spent time together. Even though you were both grown adults, Ransom still knew how to push all your buttons, and he knew that if he dared you to do something, you’d do it.

Which was how you’d ended up in the cramped bathroom on the first floor of the Thrombey mansion during Harlan’s May Day party, your body bent over at the waist and your arm contorted behind your back to take a photo of the tiny little thong you’d worn beneath your sundress.

Ransom had dared you to take a photo of your ass and send it to your ex. You, of course, had risen to the challenge and accepted the dare.

You hadn’t had nearly enough champagne to make you so reckless, but there was something about your oldest friend that brought out your competitive spirit. Ransom was the only one who could get you to do such things, but you enjoyed being pushed outside of your comfort zone. Plus, you knew your best friend wouldn’t make you do anything that would actually hurt you.

In fact, if you were honest with yourself, there was a part of you that was perversely pleased to be taking such an obscene photo of yourself while some of the richest families in Massachusetts milled around just outside the door. The thought of getting caught taking naughty pictures turned you on more than you wanted to admit, so you hurried up and took the photos.

When you were done, you picked one you liked and sent it to your ex with a smirk on your face, thinking he should be so lucky as to see your ass one last time.

Leaving the bathroom, you strutted through the party looking for Ransom, feeling smug about completing the dare. You caught his eye when you entered the library, and even across the room, you could see the amusement dancing in his crystal blue eyes. You made your way through the crowd with a pep in your step, but halfway through, your phone vibrated with a response from your ex.

You opened the text and wished you hadn’t.

Didn’t know you were such a desperate slut, but if you really need dick so bad, I guess I’ll let you ride mine, baby. I know you loved bouncing on it like a whore.

Your expression twisted into a scowl, and you looked up at your best friend, who was suddenly in front of you. Hurt wrapped around your heart, a part of you feeling—perhaps unfairly—that Ransom should’ve known your ex would text something vile back to you.

“I did your dare, are you happy now?” you hissed at your best friend, taking out all your hurt and anger on Ransom. You knew you were much more angry at yourself, and your ex, for his hurtful response, but your best friend was the safest target at the moment.

Annoyingly, Ransom looked unaffected by your fury, the satisfied smirk on his face never wavering even as you continued to glare at him. When he responded, his voice was a lazy drawl that reminded you he couldn’t have known the effect of his dare.

“I mean, I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a frustrated huff and opened your phone to the text message you’d gotten from your ex, turning the screen to your best friend so he could read it. “Is this what you wanted?” you sneered, knowing full well your best friend wouldn’t react kindly to what your ex had said.

You were so determined to show Ransom what he’d done, you didn’t even consider the fact that you were also showing him the photo you’d sent. At least, not until his blue eyes went a little hazy and his smirk widened into a full-blown grin.

“The dare didn’t include you showing me the photo,” Ransom drawled, his gaze flicking to yours, the look in his eyes making something hot squirm deep in your core. “But I can’t say I mind—you’ve got a gorgeous ass.”

Heat rose in your face, and your expression twisted into one of impatient annoyance. “Look at the response, Ran,” you gritted out, trying not to let his compliment get to you. He was your best friend—he was probably just messing with you. But you were soon distracted from what Ransom had said when he finally looked at what your ex had replied.

A storm cloud settled over Ransom’s handsome features, his eyes narrowing into two slits and his mouth twisting into a furious scowl. You even thought you heard a low rumble, like a growl, emanate from your best friend’s chest beneath the din of the party around you.

“Who does this little shit think he is?” Ransom fumed, grabbing your phone and clicking on the contact info. “Does this motherfucker think he can talk to you like this?” Your best friend’s gaze flicked to yours and something inside you warmed when you saw the righteous anger simmering in his eyes. “And where the fuck does he get off calling you baby?”

Your mouth opened to answer him, but Ransom just shook his head in a way that quelled you. Instead, he grabbed your hand with his free one and began leading you through the party toward the back of the house. Your feet moved quickly to keep up with his longer strides, and he slowed a little so he didn’t hurt your arm as he tugged you into the backyard. Ransom walked briskly through the gate in the fence that separated the lawn from the forest.

You knew the forest around the Thrombey mansion just as well as the house itself, with its trees and the occasional statues representing Harlan’s various mystery novels. You and Ransom had played in the forest plenty when you were children, and partied amongst the statues when you were in your teens and early twenties. It was the only place the two of you could have any privacy, and you had to assume that Ransom wanted seclusion to discuss what your ex had said.

At your favorite of the statues in the forest, Ransom pulled to a stop and rounded on you, mischief gleaming in his blue eyes. You could tell he had a plan.

“Do you wanna show your shithead ex what he’s missing?”

Ransom’s smile was sharp as a knife and you couldn’t help but be distracted by your best friend’s handsomeness, just for a moment. His slicked-back brown hair gleamed in the spring sunshine that trickled down through the leafy trees above, and his broad shoulders filled out his henley so deliciously, you almost forgot the question he asked.

But then his words broke through your distracted mind and the grin that spread across your face was practically devilish in your delight. “What do you have in mind?” you asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you stared up at your best friend with nothing but trust.

Ransom’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your mouth for just a second before he met yours again. “Get on your knees,” he said, his voice low and gruff in a way you’d never heard before. It made heat pool deep in your core and you squirmed a little but didn’t hesitate to follow the order.

The forest floor was blanketed in a soft carpet of dying leaves, even as new growth flourished around you, the sweet scent of spring filling your senses as you lowered yourself to your knees. Your eyes remained fixed on Ransom’s as your knees hit the soft ground, and though you knew the two of you were alone in the woods, it truly felt as though you were the only two people in the whole world.

You weren’t naive. You knew whatever your best friend had in mind to get back at your ex would be crossing one or two lines you’d never crossed with him before. But you trusted Ransom. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. And, truthfully, a part of you that you kept hidden and locked away so much of the time wanted to cross a line or two with your best friend.

So you sat on your knees on the ground at Ransom’s feet and stared up at him with all the trust you had in him no doubt written all over your face. You watched as his eyes softened and his mouth curved at the edges into a gentle smile, his expression filled with affection. It was so different to the hard or smarmy mask he wore in public—and even around his family—that you relaxed even further, knowing he’d take care of you even as you got revenge on your ex.

“Stick your tongue out,” Ransom murmured, his voice low and soft and nearly blending in with the breeze rustling the trees above you. His hand reached out and his fingers stroked your cheek, his smile deepening when you nuzzled into his palm before doing as he said. “Good girl, now look at me like you wanna suck my cock.”

A bolt of heat shot through you, nearly making you shiver as warmth bloomed, feral and unbidden, within your body. Ransom’s command was certainly crossing a line, but it felt like permission, too. For the first time in a very long time, you let the feelings you’d hidden away come rushing to the surface. The force of them surprised you, and you found yourself leaning into the arousal that swirled through your body.

With your tongue already sticking out, you let yourself sink into the desire you felt to suck Ransom’s cock and let it show in the way you were posed. You arched your back to stick out your ass and push up your chest, giving your best friend a good view of your tits in your dress. Letting your eyes go heavy-lidded with arousal, you stared eagerly up at your best friend.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes darkened, his pupils blowing wide and his lips parting as he let out a heavy breath. He looked transfixed by you, and if you weren’t sticking your tongue out, you would’ve smirked at his reaction to you.

For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Then, Ransom shook himself lightly and he held up your phone, swiping it open to the camera. You watched as he angled it the way he wanted, and waited patiently while he took a few pictures of you on your knees in front of him.

When his eyes returned to your face, you relaxed your pose a little, expecting him to give you your phone so you could pick out a photo to send to your ex. Instead, Ransom gave you a considering look.

“Do you really wanna piss off your ex?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that made butterflies stir in your belly even as more warmth trickled down between your thighs. A slow, evil grin spread across his handsome face that made your stomach flutter and your core clench. “Do you wanna show him what he’s missing?’

“Yes.” Your answer slipped from your lips before you really had a chance to think about it, but once it was out, you wouldn’t take it back. You trusted Ransom, you really wanted to get back at your ex, and, even more than that, you were desperately curious to see how far your best friend would take things. So you doubled down, giving him an evil smile of your own. “Yes, I do.”

Ransom’s grin turned a little smug as he looked at you with mischievous delight dancing in his eyes. The dappled light of the sunny spring day shifted across his face, and you sucked in a silent breath at just how handsome your best friend was. Your heart thumped in your chest, but you pushed the meaning behind that feeling aside and focused on the moment.

“Unzip my pants and pull my cock out,” Ransom murmured, his tone low and rough as gravel, sending a shiver down your spine.

Immediately, your eyes dropped to the front of your best friend’s slacks and you couldn’t help but notice the bulge there. A delighted smile curled the edges of your mouth. Ransom was just as turned on by you as you were by him. That knowledge gave you the courage you needed to do as he said.

Your fingers fumbled excitedly with Ransom’s clothes as you pushed up his henley and undid the button and fly of his pants. You pushed them and his boxer briefs down over his hips, revealing the long length of his cock. It bounced free from his briefs and you sucked in a sharp gasp. He was so thick and long, your body clenched with the need to be filled just at the sight of your best friend’s cock.

Eagerly, you leaned forward, pressing your face to the underside of Ransom’s cock and inhaling the clean, musky scent of him. He smelled so good, you could feel your body react to your best friend’s cock, your pussy soaking your thong and making a mess of your thighs. Tilting your head back, you turned your heavy-lidded eyes up to Ransom, staring up at him while you nuzzled into his hard length.

“Yeah, just like that,” Ransom rasped, giving you an encouraging nod while his thumb tapped the screen of your phone, taking photos of you. “Look so pretty with my cock on your face, baby.”

A pleased smile curved your lips and your eyes closed as you savored the wonderful feeling of Ransom’s praise. It made your body warm even further, and you conveyed how happy it made you by pressing a soft kiss to the underside of Ransom’s cock. He rumbled an appreciative sound and when you looked up at him again, his eyes were the darkest you’d ever seen, his entire attention focused entirely on you.

You liked having Ransom’s attention and you didn’t wait for him to give you more instructions. Trailing your lips up the length of his cock, you pressed wet, suckling kisses to the velvety soft skin wrapped around the hardness beneath. You didn’t know which of you enjoyed it more—Ransom, with his face twisted into a look of pleasure and his chest heaving, or you, with your pussy dripping between your thighs.

It seemed to take Ransom a moment to remember what he was supposed to be doing, that the point of you being on your knees was to record what you were doing to get back at your ex. He tapped the screen of your phone once, and when he spoke, there was something in his voice that made you think he was recording a video—a tenor of encouragement that made you want to perform.

“How d’you like my cock, baby?” he asked, a smirk clear on his face and in his tone. “Am I bigger than your ex?”

You wanted to grin and laugh—Ransom’s cock was much bigger than your ex’s. Instead, you curved your lips into your most vixenish smile and nuzzled into your best friend’s hardness like it was your most cherished stuffed animal.

“I looove your cock, Ran,” you purred in a sultry voice, not having to try hard to show your appreciation for him. You pressed a kiss to his hard length and licked the underside of the head, wringing a grunt from your best friend. “You have such a big cock, daddy, way bigger than my ex—I don’t know how I’m gonna fit you in my tight little throat.” You batted your lashes up at the camera while you swirled your tongue around the tip, licking up your best friend’s precum.

Ransom tapped your phone and moved it out of the way so he could look straight at you, raising one of his eyebrows in amusement. “‘Daddy’?” he asked, a delighted smirk curving his lips.

You stroked Ransom’s cock while you pulled back to answer. “My ex always wanted me to call him that, but it never felt right,” you said, making a face before you leaned forward again, wrapping your lips around the tip of your best friend’s cock and sucking on him lightly. Ransom grunted in pleasure.

“Keep going, baby, we’ll show that shithead what he’s never gonna have,” Ransom rasped, lifting your phone up again and tapping the screen while you took his cock deeper into your mouth. “Suck daddy’s cock, baby, be a good girl and show me how much you love my dick.”

You wanted to smile at Ransom’s filthy words, but instead you focused your attention entirely on his cock, bobbing your head on his hard length until the tip of him was pressing against the back of your throat. You’d never taken anyone as big as him, but you were determined to deep throat your best friend, so you relaxed your throat and pushed yourself. After a few tries, you took him all the way in, until his cock was bulging in your throat and your nose was pressed flat to his stomach.

“Oh fuck, jesus christ, baby,” Ransom shouted when you swallowed around him, your throat squeezing his hardness as you fought to keep him buried to the root in your mouth. Tears streamed down your face, and drool trickled down your chin, but you paid it no mind, focusing entirely on your best friend’s cock.

His big hand settled on the crown of your head, fingers flexing like he wanted to grab you and hold you down on his cock. Your pussy clenched at the thought, but Ransom seemed not to want to hurt you, so he simply bucked his hips a little, fucking your throat in short thrusts.

“Shit, ‘m gonna come,” he rasped, his voice rough and strained in a way you’d never heard before. It made you squeeze your thighs together as more wetness flooded your already messy slit. “Baby, ‘m gonna come, holy fuck, your throat feels so fucking good, oh fuck.”

When his cock started to twitch, you pulled off and smiled sweetly up at your best friend. “Come on my face, Ran,” you panted, your voice breathy as you stared directly into Ransom’s darkened eyes.

It took you a moment to realize Ransom’s hand holding your phone had dropped to his side, and the entirety of his focus was on you—just you. A pleased smile curled your lips while you pumped your best friend’s cock in your fist, squeezing the tip while he tossed his head back and let out a loud, pleasured groan.

Ransom came, muttering, “Baby, baby, baby,” under his breath, ropes of his come landing all over your face, joining the tears, spit and drool already coating your cheeks and chin. You opened your mouth, catching some of his spend on your tongue and humming happily at the musky taste of him.

When Ransom tipped his head back up and opened his eyes to look at you, his mouth fell open in a helpless moan when he took in the state of you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes roving over your face hungrily, like he couldn’t get enough of seeing you with his come on your cheeks. “You look so pretty covered in my come, baby,” he murmured, warmth and affection in his tone as he stroked your jaw, one of the few places on your face that wasn’t messy.

You grinned up at your best friend, pleased at his praise, though that didn’t stop you from teasing him. “Why don’t you take a picture, daddy, it’ll last longer,” you sassed. But once the words were out, you realized how serious you were about the suggestion. When Ransom raised his eyebrows in question, you whispered, “Use your phone—if you want.”

Ransom didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his pants and angled it above your face. “Smile for me, baby,” he murmured softly, and you couldn’t help but follow the gentle command. He took a few photos of you, sitting on your knees in the forest, covered in his come.

Once he was done, he stowed both your phones in his pocket and pulled his henley off over his head, leaving him in a simple white t-shirt. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he started using the soft cotton garment to clean your face. He was gentle, wiping the come from your face and then clearing away your ruined makeup.

Somehow, it felt so much more intimate than sucking your best friend’s cock and all you could do was sit there, your heart pounding in your chest while you let Ransom take care of you. His gaze caught yours, and you saw his crystal blue eyes were swirling with just as much emotion as was filling your heart, and something seemed to pass between the two of you—an understanding that something had changed between you.

When he’d cleaned your face to the best of his ability, Ransom tucked his cock away then helped you to stand, supporting your weight while he brushed the dirt and leaves off your knees. You leaned heavily against his chest when he stood up, his arms looping easily around you and you shared another silent moment, both of you smiling and staring into each other’s eyes.

It was you who ended up breaking the moment, asking the question that was making you burn with curiosity. “Are we really going to send those pictures and videos to my ex?” you asked, watching your best friend’s face for his reaction. Truth be told, you still wanted to get back at your ex for what he’d said, but since Ransom’s cock was in them, he had a right to a say in it.

He seemed to be watching you just as carefully as you were watching him. “Do you want to?” he asked, his voice toneless. He was leaving it up to you.

An evil smile spread across your face, Ransom’s lips curving into a smirk in response. “Yeah,” you said brashly. “Let him see what he could’ve had.”

“Just as long as you tell him who’s dick you’re sucking,” Ransom murmured, kissing your temple and pulling your phone from his pocket to hand to you. “I want him to know you’re my girl now.”

At those possessive words, you looked up at your best friend in surprise, but Ransom only gave you a look like you should know better.

Ducking your head, you hid an exceptionally pleased smile as you turned in Ransom’s arms and leaned back against his broad chest so he could watch over your shoulder. Together, you picked out the best photos and videos to send to your ex.

Sorry! Sent that to the wrong person. These are just for you. Oh and Ransom says hi.

You couldn’t help but giggle when your ex immediately started blowing up your phone, taking great pleasure in blocking him. When you were done, you handed your phone back to Ransom to hold for you, since your dress didn’t have pockets, and you turned in his arms again. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you looked up at your best friend with a smile.

“So I’m your girl now, huh?” you asked, unable to let him get away with just a look for confirmation.

Ransom’s strong arms wound around your waist, holding you tight to his chest. “As if I’d be such a fool as to let anyone else have you,” he said, snorting to himself. “I’m not as stupid as your ex.”

“Clearly,” you said dryly, laughing at the unamused look he shot you.

But then Ransom silenced your laughter with a kiss, his mouth slanting to yours perfectly. All at once, you let the emotions you’d bottled up for so long flow free, and you clung to Ransom as you both deepened the kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth like he was staking a claim, and you answered him back with just as much fervor.

It was less a first kiss and more a devouring of souls as the two of you made out in the woods of the Thrombey estate.

Finally, Ransom pulled away with a groan. “OK, here’s the plan,” he said with a huff, pressing his forehead to yours. His chest was heaving as he caught his breath, but he soldiered on. “We go back, tell everyone you have a headache and I’m gonna drive you home,” he said, pausing briefly to kiss you. “Then I take you back to my place and we don’t leave my bed for two days—maybe three.”

Laughing and nodding you pushed up on your tiptoes and kissed Ransom again. “Three, definitely three,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing you again.

Before he pulled away entirely, though, Ransom caught your eye and you knew from the mischief sparkling in the depths of his gaze that he had another dare for you. You grinned eagerly.

“I dare you to take off your thong and go back to the party with your needy little cunt dripping down your thighs for me,” Ransom rumbled, his voice deliciously low and deep and making you want to jump him right there in the woods.

When Ransom raised an eyebrow in a challenging look, your pussy clenched at the filthy dare, your whole body warming as arousal flooded through you again. You didn’t know what expression your face was making, but it made Ransom grin and press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“If you’re a good girl, daddy will give you a reward when we get to my place,” he murmured.

But Ransom hadn’t needed to offer you an incentive.

After all, you never could resist a dare from Ransom Drysdale.

#witchywithwhiskey's springtime fun #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #chris evans #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #witchywithwhiskeywork #itistimeforusalltodecidewhoweare

971 notes · View notes