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vettelsvee · 22 days

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DO YOU REALLY WANT US TO TRY? | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | ask me anything or let's talk! history series masterlist

retired sebastian vettel x wife!reader

word count: 7265

summary: having the day off from the shootings of the documentary they're shooting about their years in formula 1, so seb decides not only to take y/n on a date in new york, but also to try for another baby

warnings: smut: female masturbation, male masturbation, fingering, oral sex (female receiving, male receiving), p in v without protection (wrap it before tap it!). bad language, curse words, translated german. based on january 2023

a/n: (you can read this while listening to maroon by taylor swift bc oh my) this is one of the extra fics i'm gonna be posting of history series! first volume on the series, meeting, will be posted as soon as i finish writing the first chapter so you can enjoy the same day both the intro, the prologue and chapter 1 🔥 feedback and reposts are truly appreciated, and also comments! thank you for all the support lately, you don't know how much it means to me <3

The dawn light, painting the New York sky in pink and orange, began to filter through the windows partially covered by semi-transparent curtains.

You laid peacefully in bed, on your right side, immersed in a light sleep. Your hair sprawled across the pillow, and your breathing was calm, synchronized with the movement of your chest. A faint smile adorned your lips, possibly reflecting a pleasant dream involving you, your husband and your little ones.

Sebastian gradually woke up, his half-asleep eyes first meeting the serene face of you illuminated by the emerging sunlight.

"Good morning, my love," Vettel whispered, trying not to startle you.

You didn't react, still lost in your peaceful nocturnal fantasy. A tender expression crossed the German's face as he leaned gently to kiss your forehead, taking utmost care not to wake you.

Your day in New York held many plans, and all he wanted you was to be as rested as possible.

"Mmm," you murmured, slightly more aware now. "Seb..."

Sebastian's gaze focused on your lips, but he didn't want to overwhelm you. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheek to your jaw, chin, and even focusing on your neck, well aware that such gestures often led to a morning session of intimacy you had enjoyed many times before.

You mumbled sleepily but became a bit more conscious of your surroundings.

"That was nice, but could you let me sleep a bit more, please?" you asked.

Sebastian smiled, settling closer to you, resting his head on the pillow and letting it rest on his right hand, aligning with your level.

"I think it's already time to wake up, love," he said, gently caressing your cheek. "How about you let me wake you up properly?"

You, as if engaged in a playful banter, slowly opened your eyelids. You blinked leisurely, letting your light eyes adjust to the ambient light, a playful smile forming as you realized how close your husband was.

"What do you mean by waking me up properly?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, intrigued and emphasizing the last word.

Sebastian didn't reply. Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips against yours, initiating a tender and longer kiss than initially intended. Afterward, he focused on every part of your tired face once again.

"Like that."

"Are we playing Disney princesses as if we were with the girls?" You teased, your cheeks turning slightly red. "Am I supposed to be Sleeping Beauty or what?"

Sebastian chuckled sincerely, admiring the innocence with which you, his wife, sometimes spoke due to the games you played mostly with your daughters throughout the day. Since becoming parents, you both knew your were reliving a second childhood, something you particularly loved as you had become the mother you always wanted to be, but you never got to have.

"Something like that, yes," Vettel replied. "Who could resist the incredible task of waking up a princess? Well," he corrected himself, "you’re not a princess anymore as I'm afraid to say you’re my queen."

"I haven't been awake for five minutes and you're already acting like your 2010 self! Yes, don't laugh, Seb! The one who didn't know what to do with his life and how to get rid of all the crap falling on him," you recalled. "And there was quite a lot, especially, and who flirted with every walking female being."

"But you loved him because, thanks to him, you ended up falling in love with me," Sebastian added with sarcasm. "Besides," he continued, "don't act like you've never put a foot wrong in your life. You weren't an angel a year later either."

Before you could retort, Sebastian moved aside the sheets covering him from the waist down to get out of bed. He put on his slippers and, with a mischievous smile, headed to the apartment's kitchen you had rented for your stay in the city.

"What are you doing, Sebastian Vettel?" demanded you to know, trying not to fall back asleep and figuring out what was going on in the man's head.

A playful smile appeared on Sebastian's face as he turned to you. You were watching him with considerable curiosity.

"It's a surprise, sweetheart," he commented, quickly returning to you, planting a kiss on your forehead and covering you a bit more with the sheets.

"You've got me intrigued," you said drowsily, yawning, "so don't take too long, or I'll fall back asleep."

Sebastian returned to the small space, leaving you confused and stretching in bed. Once in the kitchen, the former driver began gathering everything needed for a simple breakfast, given that his culinary skills were not the best but good enough to impress his wife. Soft sounds of utensils and plates clinking filled the air, along with the gradually brewing aroma of coffee, enough to fully awaken you. Nothing delighted you more than the scent of that brown beverage you loved, wafting through your nostrils.

You sat up slowly, leaning against the padded backrest. A few minutes later, you heard footsteps approaching. Sebastian appeared at your bedroom entrance carrying a tray filled with fresh fruits in an unevenly cut bowl, a buttered toast with peach jam, and a cup brimming with coffee, featuring a failed attempt at a heart. Additionally, there was a vase with some dried flowers that Sebastian had secretly bought the day before from a nearby florist.

"What's all this? Are we celebrating something?" you asked, completely impressed by the wonderful wake-up Seb had prepared for you. "Or is there something you want to tell me, and you don't know how?"

He carefully placed the tray on you lap, trying not to spill anything and cause a mess. Sebastian then sat beside you gently, positioning himself close enough to you but giving enough space for you to enjoy breakfast without feeling overwhelmed.

"I just wanted to make something special for the most special woman in my life," the blonde clarified.

"It's surreal that you've done this for me," you admitted. "Are you sure you're not going to ask me for a divorce or anything like that?" you added while taking a piece of bread with your hands and bringing it to your mouth.

"I thought the nonsense of wanting a divorce was a thing of the past," Sebastian replied. "Besides, this is the simplest thing in the world, love. Remember when I taught you to drive?" You nodded, eating slowly. He had given you quite a hard time, although in the end he became your best driving instructor. "Or when you got so obsessed with Moulin Rouge that I threw you a themed birthday party where you were Satine, I was Christian, and we spent the whole night singing after I spent days learning every single song Ewan McGregor sang in the movie?"

"You looked handsome as fuck in that outfit, and everyone had a great time," you said, recalling that day as if it were yesterday. "Although we didn't enjoy it as much when Mick and that girl he dated, Lara, who clearly intended to sleep together, caught us in bed together ."

The German rolled his eyes, trying to forget the scene where he had you sitting on his face, your face down focused on his penis giving him a blowjob, and the ex-couple, wearing only their underwear, entering the same room where you were.

He didn't want to remember that date even if they paid him all the money in the world, or if they even told him that climate change would end.

"Well," you continued, realizing that Sebastian didn't want to talk about it anymore. "Then you tell me what's all this for."

"Since we had the day off today, I wanted to do something special with you," Sebastian explained. "I know we have to get up at five tomorrow because we need to be at the studio around seven, so I didn't plan anything big," he apologized. "Sorry."

"Spill it, don't leave me in suspense," you said, now holding the fruit bowl in one hand and the fork in the other.

"What if we go to Central Park and spend the day there, sweetheart?"

You lifted your gaze from the coffee, surprised by the suggestion. Then, you smiled at her husband.

"Central Park is always a good plan, especially when it's with you,” you replied cheerfully. “I like that it's something calm," you confessed, quite happy. "Mr. and Mrs. Vettel need, every now and then, a bit of calm in their lives."

Even though you hadn't finished eating everything Sebastian had prepared for you, you made a move to get up and get dressed. However, he asked you nicely to sit back down and wait for a moment.

"I have something for you," he declared affectionately, thinking about how you would react to the two surprises he had prepared, especially the first one.

Quickly, with your watchful eyes on him, he approached the built-in wardrobe in one corner of the room and took out a small bag containing an envelope and a small box wrapped in Christmas-themed wrapping paper.

"I know it's not the right time for me to give you this," Sebastian explained, pointing to the box, "but I'm sure you'll love what's inside. I couldn't give it to you with the girls around," he revealed, "or they would want to copy their mother, especially Emily. I still think they are too young for that."

You were puzzled by what the German had just said. As he offered you the box, you took it carefully in your hands. Slowly, you unwrapped it, avoiding tearing the wrapping hastily and removing the pieces of tape one by one, even though excitement was eating you.

Once you removed the wrapping, you saw what appeared to be the back of a toy box. When you turned it around you realized you were right and started screaming and jumping on the bed. Then, you ran towards Seb and gave him a tight hug, one of the ones she loved.

"Oh my God, sunshine. I can't believe it!" you exclaimed, completely thrilled. "I know I'm an adult, a mother with responsibilities," you specified, counting with your fingers, "but you've fulfilled my childhood dream!"

Sebastian laughed at your reaction, something that he was already expecting from you. As you became closer in 2008, you talked about childhood toys and that kind of stuff people usually talk about when they meet. You revealed that you had always wanted a Tamagotchi but, due to your family's economic situation, they couldn't buy you one. Your surprise came when Emily, your eldest daughter, asked for one last Christmas. Since then, he often caught you playing with it whenever your eldest ignored it or got bored of it.

He loved seeing you so excited about something as simple as a gadget with a virtual pet or whatever was inside.

"I thought you'd like to have one for yourself," Seb raised an eyebrow. "Considering how often you take it from your eldest daughter..."

You avoided his comment. Instead, you eagerly tore open the box and, once the device was out, you stopped to examine it in detail, trying not to let it slip from your trembling hands. You felt a rush of emotions running through your body, transporting you back to your childhood, remembering every detail you had experienced with your family and the ones that you didn't have around anymore.

But now you had a new family, your own family, and that was what you clung to in moments when you wondered why almost all your loved ones had somehow left you behind.

"And what's the other thing?"

You discreetly pointed, ignoring your feelings as you stepped away from your husband, to the envelope he held in his hands. You tried to reach it, but it was in vain: Sebastian, even just slightly, was taller than you.

"Oh, this?" he said. "It's nothing. Just tickets to go to the theater to see the Hamilton musical."

You opened your mouth completely in shock.

"And you say it so calm?!" you exclaimed, moving towards your husband again. "You're the most utterly unexpressive person I've ever met in my life, Vettel."

"Go get dressed, come on," he avoided that comment, heading towards the front door, grabbing his jacket, and after putting it on, he took the keys to the residence. "I'm going grocery shopping for the wonderful picnic we're going to have today."

"But what picnic are we going to have if it's winter!" you shouted, somewhat puzzled. "Sebastian Vettel, I swear to God that if I catch a cold and, on top of that, when we come back we give it to the girls, I won't be the one staying home to take care of them!"

He left the apartment laughing, closing the door behind him, leaving you to come up with wild theories about what you were going to do. It seemed you knew him very little.

Did you not know that, for him, a picnic always ended up meaning taking you to eat somewhere quiet in the city?

[...]

After almost two weeks of the History recordings, where you had only worn the most formal clothes possible, from almost gala dresses to uncomfortable pencil skirts that remind you of your days working for Red Bull as a intern and, then, as a race engineer, you could finally wear something you could describe as comfortable.

You had always been used to dressing casually except for the years you worked at Red Bull, where you often felt like you were on a fashion runway. So, for a stroll in the most famous park in New York and even for a night at the theater, you decided to wear slightly tight jeans that easily hugged your curves, hidden under a well-worn oversized sweater from your pregnancies. You left your hair, a bit longer than she was used to in recent years, loose, with its natural waves. You also wore tiny pearl-shaped earrings, your father's watch on your left wrist and white Converse shoes.

For Sebastian, an overshirt and a t-shirt hidden under his jacket, along with pants and Adidas sneakers, were more than enough. He wore that almost always, and no matter how many times you told him that it seemed like that outfit had become his uniform, he refused to change it.

And thank goodness he doesn't wear the famous headband, you criticized in your mind. How embarrassing.

It had been almost three hours since you left your rented apartment and had done quite a few things, although it was nothing extraordinary. First, you walked hand in hand through the park, avoiding athletes and talking about trivial matters. Then, you started feeding ducks in a small pond with a loaf of bread Sebastian had specifically bought for that. You also decided to approach a group of elderly people playing chess to chat with them for a while. Older people were your weakness, and you felt sorry for most of them. You even ended up playing a few games while listening to them talk cheerfully about their lives, sharing some trivial details about yours at the same time.

When you set out for the famous picnic, they decided to call Amelie, your middle sister, to check on your kids. The moment the girl answered the call, the couple could momentarily see the desperation she was feeling:

"I swear tonight has been a disaster," the girl commented in German. "Matilda, at eleven at night, wanted to get into the pool with her Little Mermaid costume to swim and go to the magical kingdom of I don't know what," she expressed angrily, gesturing with her free hand. "Then, Emily wanted to play with your simulator, Seb, and ended up crying because I told her she needed your permission, but you were working and you couldn't give it to her," the mentioned one nodded, gesturing to his sister to continue. "And to top it off, George and Mick ended up falling asleep, leaving me in charge of two little devils."

“And what about aunt Johanna?,” you asked abruptly, leaning closer to the phone. Sebastian could sense your getting nervous, so he quickly took your hand and started caressing it with his thumb.

Amelie sighed, and you even heard a few muttered curses.

"Don't talk to me about your them, Y/N," the girl almost shouted. "They promised me they'd be here around eight, but uncle Hans ended up calling me a few hours later, drunk as a skunk, to tell me they went to a fancy dinner with some of their workmates and couldn't make it home."

"So, you've become the boss of everything, huh?" you commented with humor.

"Sadly."

The family conversation continued. As the minutes passed and you got closer to the place Sebastian had chosen for your meal that day, his parents joined them, having decided to take care of the youngest of the family, your baby boy Carl, while you were out. Michael and Corinna also decided to go to your residence, and with the youngest in her arms, she began explaining to you that he had learned to say a few new words.

"Auto," the baby joyfully exclaimed, while pointing from Schumacher's arms to a photo of Sebastian in his second team that was above the fireplace. "Auto, daddy. Daddy, das Auto ist blau."

That made Sebastian so happy that tears welled up in his eyes, although it didn't last long because you had already reached the door of the restaurant. Soft lights, despite it being midday, illuminated the path to the entrance, which stood out with its wide windows, resembling a glass display, showcasing diners already enjoying their meals.

After hanging up the call with your relatives, you entered and let yourselves be enveloped by the atmosphere. The interior was elegantly decorated, but not overly extravagant. There were plenty of potted plants of all kinds decorating every corner, and you weren't sure if it was that or not, but a very faint scent, like vanilla, seemed to emanate from some unknown place.

A waiter approached you both while you were chatting animatedly about the place.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Vettel," the young man interrupted, who should be in his twenties and apparently seemed to be a fan of your husband by his way to behave and, apparently, nervousness. "If you follow me I'll show you the table we've prepared so you can enjoy your meal without interruptions."

Sebastian and you thanked him with a slight nod and proceeded to follow him. You crossed the different sections of the establishment, trying not to attract the attention of any customers, until you reached a more secluded corner from where Central Park could be seen in the distance.

Once seated, the guy who was serving you offered you menus and, immediately, an older woman placed a few appetizers on the table, saying they were on the house.

At that moment, while deciding what to order, you began to dwell on the conversation you had with your youngest sister before starting to record the documentary for the first time. You didn't know how to broach to Seb the subject of getting pregnant again. You were nervous about his possible reaction, yes, but at the same time, you had a good feeling. Your husband was currently dissecting the steak you had ordered, while you dipped a nacho into some guacamole. Trying not to delay it further, you finally spoke while settling into your chair:

"Seb?" you asked to get his attention. "The other day, Lou told me something a bit... strange," you innocently expressed.

Vettel stopped cutting the piece of meat, dropped the utensils onto the plate, and looked at you a bit uneasy, not knowing what you might be referring to.

"What do you mean something a bit strange?" he said, frowning and with a concerned tone. "What did she tell you?"

"She said we could go for one more bun," you emphasized the phrase with a bit of irony. "She also said we should have a second honeymoon or something like that," you crossed her arms, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "You know how my sister is."

And, indeed, Sebastian knew. He already had an idea of where this conversation was going, and if you meant it in a positive way, he was totally on board.

"So... one more bun, huh?" he teased, pretending not to know where the conversation was heading.

"I think Lou was talking about having another baby, love," you bluntly stated.

Sebastian nodded with excitement, knowing that your expression was currently a masterpiece. If you thought he wouldn't catch on to what you were referring to, you were absolutely mistaken. Every time your sister had told him that she'd like to have another nephew, she had done it using that phrase which, though totally absurd, had become an internal joke between them both. Now, you seemed to be a part of it as well.

"I know," Seb finally admitted, not wanting to tease you anymore as you seemed a bit deflated. "And... what do you think?"

You had a thoughtful expression, unsure of what to say. On one hand, you indeed wanted to be a mother for the fourth time, but there were so many things swirling in your head, things that would soon become a reality...

"What are you thinking, Y/N? Wouldn't it excite you us being parents again?"

Sebastian moved his chair closer to the table and took both of your hands while keeping a close eye on you. He could feel you trembling a bit, and it wasn't particularly because of the cold.

"No, it's not that, it's just that... Carl is still a baby... You've just retired, and the only thing you should focus on now is on resting and making up for lost time. I'm starting all this stuff of F1 Academy soon and, on top of that, there's the mess of the documentary we've gotten into," you listed. "I don't feel capable of being a mother again, Seb," she confessed. "It will be overwhelming for us."

The German took your chin and made you look at him. Your gazes met, and your found somehow serenity amidst all the concerns that were overwhelming you at the moment.

"Listen, Y/N," the former driver expressed clearly and calmly. "I'll always be by your side, no matter where I am or what I do, okay?" You nodded, trying to hold back tears. "If you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait, and if that time never comes, I'll be more than happy to see our little ones grow up next to you."

"Are you serious?"

"Very serious, Y/N," Seb affirmed once again. "I've always wanted to have a big family with you. You know that for me, the more, the merrier."

You leaned back a bit, surprised by your husband's words. You started reflecting on everything he had said since then, especially the if you don't think now is the best time to have a baby, I'll wait.

Did that mean he might want a fourth child... right?

"Wait, wait, wait," you played with your hands. "What did you say before?"

"I want to have all the babies in the world with you, and I'll wait as long as you need," Sebastian explained again.

Your eyes began to fill with tears of joy, causing confusion for your husband, who began to genuinely worry about you. He hadn't seen you like this for quite some time, and those were not particularly good times.

"Do you really want another baby?" you asked, now crying after you tried holding back tears. "Do you really want us to try?"

"How could I not want it, silly girl?" he rushed to hug you, already knowing what was going through your mind. "I'm willing to do anything you say except to sign divorce papers. So, if you want another mini version of us running around, with the mini versions of us that are no longer so mini running alongside, let's do it."

Your excitement couldn't fit into your body at the moment.

"You're amazing, did you know that?" you expressed, holding onto your husband even tighter.

"Of course," the German laughed, causing you to laugh as well. "I'm just doing what all men should do: be, or at least try to be, everything their girls deserve."

And you knew he was right.

"So...?"

You were nervous about the final answer, although after seeing Sebastian's eyes light up and narrow, revealing the dimples on his cheeks, he didn't need to give you a response: you already knew, and knew your husband too well to understand what was going through his mind at that moment.

"After the musical and dinner I'm going to make you the most beautiful baby in the world. Four kids for us, who have four Formula 1 world championships, is that ok with you?"

[...]

The return trip had created a kind of barrier between you.

You knew what you were going to do, you had talked about it and, especially, it obviously wasn't the first time you had done it. Nevertheless, doubts always plagued you both when it came to conceiving a baby because, after the miscarriage you had in 2016, fear was always present.

Both the musical, from which you had left crying, and the dinner, despite having been caught by paparazzi and fans, to whom you did not deny anything, were great even Britta wasn't with you to help you. The night was young, and for you it had just begun no matter how much you tried to fool yourselves by promising each other that you would go to sleep soon.

As soon as you arrived at the apartment, you shared kisses that were more intimate than normal, and even some friction over your clothes. You were starting to get very horny, but had to calm down even you became more excited at the same time when Seb told you that, after the shower he was going to take, he would give you a lot of love.

Carl was barely two years old, and although Seb bragged about his three girls every time he had the opportunity to, you knew that what your husband wanted most was to have another small version of him running around.

You took off your clothes quickly, not bothering to put them on properly or look at where they ended up being thrown off. You laid down on the bed, wearing only the black lace panties, a courtesy gift from your sister and which had ended up becoming Sebastian's favorites, and you began to lower your left hand very slowly towards your privacy. You took some time for yourself despite how aroused you were by your touch, focusing on you nipples and, little by little, working your way down to your stomach, leaving a trail of caresses that made you very wet, as you could tell. You had had a lot of problems with your body in the past but, now, you felt like a fucking Greek goddess, and you didn't need Seb's compliments to believe it.

Once you reached your pussy, you tried to spend a brief moment exploring it However, you hunger was getting the better of you, and your excitement even more, so you quickly began to give small massages with the slowest speed you could to your clit, which made you let out a slight gasp. You continued to focus on yourself to the point that you had forgotten about Seb, who had already taken his shower and, completely naked from the bathroom door, was admiring the show that you were giving to him.

At the same time that you were increasing the pressure you were exerting on your G-spot, you began massaging your right breast with your non-dominant hand, the right one, focusing first on the areola and gradually moving towards your nipple, limiting yourself to rubbing it with the index finger. The movement of both of your hands, completely in rhythm, made Seb's penis become completely erect and ready to do anything to you.

The German had been the one who had taught you everything about masturbation, no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise.

The man walked towards where you were while massaging his penis. As soon as he arrived and had you in front of him, he climbed onto the bed and lay down next to you, still absorbed in your own pleasure. As soon as he had the chance, Seb took advantage to kiss you fiercely, which was eagerly responded by you. You had already noticed that your husband had joined the party, although not yet actively. As if Vettel had read your thoughts, he began to caress your stomach and, without warning, he inserted his hand into your underwear, wasting no time and getting to work with the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"Fuck, Seb..." you whimpered with pleasure. "You could have warned earlier."

"If I had warned you you wouldn't be moaning three times louder right now than when your hand was in my place," Seb said, moving his finger from your clit to your inside, surprising you. "Remember that no one will ever give you more pleasure than me, Y/N Vettel."

Sebastian wanted to continue in that position. However, he knew they had to finish quickly. In just a few hours you had to be up and getting ready to continue filming the documentary, and it didn't seem particularly right to fuck you all night long even though that was his only desire.

Quickly, the German quickly pulled out of you, what made you let out a cry of frustration at the loss of contact. Instead, Sebastian got off the bed, knelt in front of you and took your thighs, squeezing hard to lower you to the edge of the surface and leave your pussy perfectly aligned with his mouth. You knew perfectly well that, in those moments, the blonde was the one who had control of you, no matter how much you wanted to dominate him. But you were not going to object to it: you loved Seb being in control.

Sex for you, who had been affectionately and sarcastically nicknamed the paddock royalty back in the day, was never boring but actually quite the opposite: it was a box full of surprises in which, in a matter of seconds, Seb could go from being rough and dominant, to be the exact representation of the perfect guy in teenage romantic movies.

The man took time to admire you. You only had your panties left over to be completely naked before him. Quickly, he slowly got rid of them, even though you were putting up some resistance. Then, he opened your legs and held them tightly by your thighs, on which he began to leave kisses, caresses and even the occasional slight bite, alternating between them tortuously.

"Sebastian Vettel, I'm not here to play games," you told him reluctantly, anxious for him to take the next step once and for all. "Either you fuck right now or I'll rub myself against the pillow until I come and the pillowcase ends up soaked."

He stood up, stopping touching your body. It caused, once again, great frustration for you.

"Do you think a bag filled with feathers is going to please you more than me?," Vettel asked curiously, playing with you.

"Seeing that you're acting like a dick, yes," you replied, sitting up and resting on the bed with your forearms.

"Are you sure what you're saying, meine Königin?"

You felt more horny after having heard that nickname. Not even a few milliseconds passed when you had already pushed him to lie down again. Immediately afterwards, with his arms tightly holding your lower extremities, the German was already kneeling again and running his tongue throughout your intimacy without any kind of mercy.

“Fuck, Seb!,” you squealed in surprise, prompting the German to lick faster. "My God..."

Seb was going so fast that your body was constantly rising and falling, your breasts bouncing hard almost in unison with Sebastian's licks. To change the rules of the game, and surprise you once again, he opened your folds widely with one hand and, with the other one, started massaging that button that caused you so much pleasure. Your legs had begun to close due to you being close to the orgasm, and the German could do nothing about it except try to delay the arrival of it. He had seen first-hand that, the longer you took to reach your release, the better it was. For this reason, he decided to slow down the pace of the movements, now replacing them with slower rubbing of your clit fusing it with the penetration of his middle finger.

The screams were getting louder, and Seb noticed how your walls contracted on his finger with increasing frequency and violence. He felt the orgasm close to you, and that was the impulse to add one more finger inside you to the equation, accompanied by the entire surface of his tongue on your nerves. While the two fingers were entering and leaving you, he devoured your pussy with a little bit of difficulty due to the lack of access, but with an incredible hunger. He was excited, and he noticed how the precum began to come out of the tip of his penis. This served no purpose other than to give him more motivation to eat you out as if he hadn't done so in a long time.

He needed to fuck you as soon as possible, but first he needed to please you. You always came first for him in sex, and it had become a ritual that emerged unexpectedly years ago, all thanks to Rosberg.

"I'm about to cum, sunshine," you shouted, hunching your back aggressively and lifting your head as high as you could while you kept pulling hard on your husband's hair. "Let me do something, please... I get on top of you and give you a blowjob while you keep going," you begged. “I’m serious, Seb, don't ignore me. Fuck...!”

Sebastian didn't replied as he was completely absorbed in giving you a good orgasm, because saying the best would be impossible. That position had been earned by those when celebrating your victory in the 2013 World Driver's Championship despite everything that it entailed later.

A few light bites on your clit and the increase in the thrusts, focusing on that point inside you that gave you so much pleasure, were the key to the arrival of your climax as you were holding onto the bed sheets tightly while he writhed wildly.

Seb took some time to take all of your cum and let you calm down because there was still the best part of sex left.

"That was... lovely. Simply lovely."

Vettel sat up, gladly took the remains of your cum and sat down next to you, leaving a chaste kiss on you forehead and, later, on you lips, making you taste yourself.

"I'm the best at my job, what can I say? The best for my girl," he said modestly.

"So..." you commented before the German went on to the next thing and ignoring his words. "Are you going to let me make you feel good or not?"

"No."

A mischievous smile began to form on the man's face. Although he was quite enjoying making you nervous, the truth is that he didn't want that day to focus on him.

If you were going to make a baby, all the attention had to go to you: for that you were the one who would carry it, with everything that entailed, for nine months... more or less.

"Not even a simple blowjob?," you tried to convince him. "Not even a little suck? Come on, Seb."

"Don't insist anymore, really."

"I hope at least that you let your besties do it for me," you approached your husband, taking you breasts and squeezing them while impatiently bringing them closer to his face.

Sebastian laughed, again refusing your insistence.

"Y/N," Vettel began to explain, "I want you to lie down," he gave you a short kiss, "and let me do everything," he took you by your waist and began to lay you down on the bed again. "Let me do all the work, love," he finished saying, standing upon top of you and beginning to rub his member against your intimacy. "Let me remind you that we're gonna make a baby, love, and you already know that in the Vettel's baby factory, children are made with love. Much affection and love."

You hated when your husband became dominant when they had sex and as quickly as possible ended up acting as if he were a prince straight out of Disney movies.

"Yes, whatever you say," you reprimanded. "It's not fair, Seb. I want to make you feel good too."

"It's not fair either that you suffer during pregnancy and I just stand by and watch," that's when you had to agree with him. "You...," he corrected herself, "you all women do everything. We only take part in the fun part."

Again, without letting you say anything else, he began to spread kisses along your neck, sucking on the spots he knew you liked the most. At the same time, he began to rub himself impatiently on the your stomach, masturbating himself so that his erection would not go down even though it was impossible at that point.

"I love when you do that..." you moaned when you noticed how the German's teeth dug lightly into you skin, "although I would like more to have you inside me."

"Patience, Y/N."

Sebastian continued kissing you through your entire neck, and all you could do was making increasingly aggressive gestures as you felt your pleasure increasing. His penis was becoming more and more erect and, as he could tell by touching your inner lips, you were very, very wet again.

"Please, Seb, don't stop," you moaned in desperation when you stopped feeling the German's lips. "I want you to do something else now, please."

"What do you want me to do?"

A mischievous smile appeared on the blonde's face at the possibilities that were going through his mind right now about what he could do with you. He looked at the time on his digital watch, and when he saw that it was almost twenty to one in the morning, something in him changed.

"Do you want to be in control now, Königin?," he commented with a hoarse and serious voice. "Is that what you want?"

“If you know that’s what I want, I don't know why you're asking me then.”

"Well," replied Sebastian, who had already reached the height of excitement, "let's do it my way because you haven't given me a clear answer..."

Before you could say anything else, he gave you another kiss, although this time he showed much more desperation than anyone you had shared earlier that same night.

"Are you going to leave me like that or what?," you said, seeing that your husband was not up to the task of what he had promised you and, therefore, he stepped away from you. "Switch positions with me right now and lie on the fucking bed, Sebastian."

He did as requested, completely surprised by the words you had let out of your mouth even though it was not the first time he had seen you behave that way with him during your intimate moments.

You had many facets, but the one where you had control during sex was secretly his second favorite, followed right after the one of you being the world's best mother.

Once you husband was finally lying down, you desperately grabbed his member and began to move it up and down at the same time as you clumsily pleasured yourself. Within a few seconds you already had it in your mouth, constantly putting it in and out of your lips and masturbating what you couldn't fit due to its length.

"Are you going to let me fuck you now or not?," Sebastian verbalized, trying not to sound desperate.

"You'll fuck me when I decide it, Vettel," you said. "So now you better shut up for a while. Let me continue doing my job or I'm afraid I'll have to stop too."

"Princess..." Seb complained.

You couldn't take it anymore no matter how much you tried to make excuses for yourself and restrain your husband. You hated it when Sebastian begged you: you were tough, and you coped differently depending on the day. Suddenly, and to the German's surprise, you straddled him and aligned you entrance with his member, slowly letting yourself fall just to torture him. Seb responded with loud gasps accompanied by several expletives towards you, which served to excite you even more.

Finally, you lowered yourself completely, letting out a scream as soon as you felt the German's cock completely inside you. At first, you put your hands on Seb's chest, although you quickly moved them to the edge of the headboard when you saw that he wanted to have full access to your breasts, which he began to caress more than with desire, with affection, focusing on the nipples especially, while massaging them together.

You increased the promising rhythm of your hips when you saw Seb getting close to orgasm. Him, to help you, took you by your waist, helping you in that swing that your hips were so accustomed to doing.

"Honey, I'm close," said Sebastian, who was having a hard time to even speak.

This only made you squeeze your insides and increase more, if possible, your speed, even causing you little damage. The German's heartbreaking screams were filling your ears and, as soon as you began to touch yourself to try to reach the orgasm at the same time as Sebastian's, you joined his gasps.

"God, Y/N, there. Yes!"

A few more thrusts were enough for Sebastian to cum inside you, who continued riding him with impetus. Just a minute later, you had also reached the long-awaited second orgasm of the day, without a doubt much better than the first one.

With your legs shaking, carefully got off your husband, who helped you even though he couldn't even handle his own body. You laid down next to him, tangling your legs next to his. Sebastian, as soon as he had you next to him, took you in his arms and began to caress you and kiss you delicately all over your face.

Sleep began to take its toll on your bodies, and as soon as you began to get closer to each other, yawns replaced moans. Despite being aware that you had to get up in less than four hours, you wouldn't change anything that had happened between you moments before.

"I never get tired of kissing you," you commented, sliding your fingers through Sebastian's hair and snuggling with him, "or hugging you, or anything with you. I am very lucky to have you, and I would live again everything we have gone through in this and a thousand other lives just to be with you,” you acknowledged.

"I'm the lucky one, Y/N," he limited to say with honesty as he placed a kiss on your forehead for the umpteenth time that day, "and you'll never know how much."

317 notes · View notes

bee-the-loser-recs · 22 days

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☼ My Jeno One-shot Fic Recs ☼

𖤓 Drippin' By @ncteez 16.2k, NCT Dream 00' line x reader, non-specified au, close friends, birthday sex, smut, technically polyamorous, messy, slight fluff, comedy, teasing

𖤓 The V week spy By @smileysuh 20.1k, Jaehyun x reader (romantic) ft. Haechan | Yangyang | Jungwoo | Jeno, college au, frat house NCT, sorority member reader, stupid traditions, no strings attached situation, smut, slight fluff

𖤓 Triple Lee; naughtier the better By @p4p1l0nn 9.1k, Mark | Haechan | Jeno x reader, non-idol au, stoner au, plug Haechan & Mark, stoner Jeno & reader, roommates, smut, slight fluff

𖤓 Keep talking to me By @starillusion13 7.1k, Mark x reader x Jeno, non-specified au, polyamory, slight angst, fluff, smut, reader is ditched by a friend socially, a night in together, romance

𖤓 Get you alone By @lucyandthepen 8.5k, college au, tutor Jeno, fashion student reader, reader is failing maths, smut, slight fluff, coquette fashion, pet names

𖤓 My first and last By @leejenowrld 37k, college au, campus heartbreaker Jeno, secret nerd Jeno, first love au, fluff, smut, opposite of slow burn, uni project partners, opposites attract, strangers to friends to lovers

𖤓 Chenle exposes jeno’s crush on y/n in the groupchat By @wooyukh SMAU, non-specified au, meddling friends, exposing their friend's crush, fluff, confessions, teasing, groupchat with NCT Dream

𖤓 Hush Hush By @domjaehyun 19.5k, Jeno|Jaemin|Haechan x reader, college au, friends to lovers??, sleepovers, smut, foursome, mentions of friends Mark & Renjun

𖤓 Fiending By @domjaehyun 27.1k, Jaehyun x reader x Jeno, college au, fratboys NCT, smut, incubi Jaehyun & Jeno, alcohol, parties, long term "pining", potentially triggering, mild humour

𖤓 The walls are thin By @springseasonie 7.4k, Jeno x reader x Jaemin, roommates au, flirting, chasing in a sense, playing hard to get, smut, threesome, walls are paper thin

𖤓 I'm a mouse, duh! By @springseasonie 8.3k, Jeno x reader x Jaemin, roommates au, Halloween party, sexy costumes, Nomin in police costumes, reader in a mouse costume, straight up smut

𖤓 Punk 00 By @mrkis 10.3k, college au, band Dream 00' line, bar setting, reader's first time at their sets, smut, slight fluff, shitty friend, punk pink haired Jeno, Jeno is a slight asshole to reader's friend

𖤓 Open the gates, let me in By @chenfleur 4k, college au, best friends to lovers, realisation of feelings, dense Jeno, intense denial, fluff, cute

𖤓 Promiscuous By @sincerelyneo 3.7k, non-specified au, established relationship, reader used to be a stripper, smut, revelations, reader's friend spills a secret accidentally

𖤓 Kitchen frolics By @radiorenjun 14.8k, established relationship, streamer au, college students, cooking live stream, terrible cooks, really messing up pizza, down bad Jeno & reader, fluff, crack

𖤓 Reel By @tqmies 10k, college au, friends to lovers, annual friend camping trip, romance, smut, comedy, helping each other find a date, they both bring someone else, slight reader x Sungchan

𖤓 Hold fast By @kiachiako 11.1k, college au, brother's best friend trope, Jaemin is reader's brother, communicating through books, fluff, reader works at a bookstore, cute, anonymous messages

𖤓 Ready for love By @jnnul 19.5k, college au, slice of life, best friends to lovers, realisations of feelings, kind of heartbreaker Jeno, fluff, complicated relationships, taking it slow when they do get together

𖤓 Pupsick [First] & [sequel] By @starlightkun 11.8k & 8.8k, werewolf Jeno, human reader, bakery setting, friends to lovers, magical fantasy au, mentions of them being college students, illnesses, fluff, slight angst [Part of a universe they're writing so check out their others as well]

𖤓 Summers of love By @lattaeyongs 15.2k, summer au, 90s au, brother's best friend trope, neighbours, fluff, Renjun is reader's brother, cute, slice of live, slowburn

𖤓 Netflix and chill By @tyonfs 10.1k, college au, part of a series so check out the prequel & other one-shots, creepy dudes, Netflix and chill, kind of fwb, strangers to lovers, smut, fluff

𖤓 Jeno x reader x Jaemin drabble By @jenosbigtoe Established relationship, polyamory, straight up smut, kind of phone sex, drabble, nsfw

𖤓 Searching for sun, water and attention By @flashbangstars 2k, established relationship, college au, stem major reader, finals week, reader is struggling, low key hurt comfort, rough week, fluff, cute

𖤓 Nothing in return By @cozyjae 12k, boxer au, Jaemin is reader's brother, boxers Jaemin & Jeno, angst, fluff, serious injuries related to boxing fights, mentions of violence, viscous cycles of lifestyle, struggling to leave, break up, reconciliation

𖤓 The roommate contract By @jaeyunverse 11.3k, college au, one-sided enemies to lovers, slight fake dating, roommates au, brother's best friend trope, fluff, crack, slight angst, reader pushes Jeno away cause of her feelings

𖤓 The perks of having a hot best friend By @jaeyunverse 14.3k, college au, best friends to lovers, jealousy, everyone can see their in love other than them, pining, reader tries to set up Jeno even though their jealous, fluff, crack, slight angst

𖤓 Relationship with Jaemin & Jeno w/Renjun By @vanesycho 1.7k, polyamorous, established relationship between Jaemin & reader & Jeno, Renjun is attracted to reader, smut

𖤓 Love in a jar By @kongjjen 1.7k, established relationship, fluff, a little bit suggestive, a silly kiss the cook apron, down bad Jeno, domestic fluff

238 notes · View notes

guiltyasdave · 5 months

Text

heaven can't help me now

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're afraid Dave might not like you as much as you like him. ...Meanwhile, Dave is afraid of the same thing. (They're idiots okay)

word count: 6.5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, phone sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, cream pie, use of panties as a gag, orgasm denial, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

taylor swift said “what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh” and i took that personally

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading! <3 (and listening to me freak out about this on a daily basis)

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Dave regrets the message as soon as the small text underneath it switches from delivered to read.

He knows that he’s been cruel to you, he could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face when he drove you home. But he has to be the responsible one, the adult in this situation. The one who’s able to hold back. Nothing should have happened between you and him, not once, let alone twice. He shouldn’t indulge in this, shouldn’t give you hope.

He has always looked down on men who were with women much younger than them. Midlife crisis. Not able to have a relationship with someone on the same maturity level.

That’s not who he is. He understands that the reason why you’re attracted to him lies at least partially in your relationship with your father, and he won’t take advantage of that. It’s not who he is and it’s not what you deserve.

You’re gonna go back to college in a few weeks and he can pretend that none of this ever happened. You’re gonna meet a nice boy your age, become a lawyer, get married and live your life the way you’re supposed to. Eventually, the memory of you writhing underneath him, your voice so sweet and needy in your desperation, surely won’t be as vivid as it is right now.

But then he found your panties between the cushions of his couch, still damp with your arousal, still smelling of you. His mind started wandering, conjuring images that he should be ashamed of. The things he could do to you, the things he could show you.

It’s like he’s lost in a haze, stroking his throbbing cock to fantasies of you, all the depraved shit that some respectful fellow student would never do, but that he knows you crave. He hears your whimpers so clearly in his head, pictures your face, so pretty begging him for things only he knows how to give you, until he releases himself all over the lacy bit of fabric that’s clutched between his fingers.

But now you’re not answering, and shame is swirling in his stomach, surely now he’s overstepped, why did he even think–

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the quiet ping of his phone and a message from you. Just a photo, no text.

His eyes widen, taking in the image. He can’t see your face, only the shape of your tits, already so familiar to him, covered in dark, lacy fabric. Exactly the same color, exactly the same pattern as the fabric that he soiled and photographed to send to you.

You put on the matching bra for him, he realizes. Which is probably why it took you longer than usual to answer, you had to get into the lingerie and put yourself all prettily on display for him. He drinks in the shape of you, the skin that he knows would feel so soft underneath his touch, the swell of your breasts, the nipples hidden behind lace, how they would harden for him, how you would squirm if he–

Desire starts coursing through him again, and he feels like a teenager, reduced to this by just a photo. His thumb finds your name on the display almost instinctively.

“Fuck, baby.”

The rasp of his voice hits your ear as soon as you accept the call. Your heart had been hammering away inside your chest since you hit send on the photo.

“You like it?”

You hate how needy you sound, how desperate for his approval. David exhales sharply and you wish you were with him again.

“Trust me, I like it very much.”

Your cheeks heat at his tone. He blows all other thoughts out of your head. You forget how rejected you felt, how you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen again. It doesn’t matter, not when he talks to you like this. You whisper a thank you and he chuckles.

“Are you in bed, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, considering the words resting on the top of your tongue. Deciding to take the leap. “Wish you were here too.”

You don’t need to see his face to know how he purses his lips, how he slowly curls them into a smirk.

“Mhm? What would you like me to do if I was?”

Your face burns hotter.

“I– Touch me, use your fingers to–”

He groans, a rich, deep sound in your ear. You’re still sore, but your fingertips ghost down your body anyway, chasing the need that’s building up between your legs again. You gasp when they find your clit, already swollen and covered in your slick.

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, please David, I need–”

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.”

He keeps talking to you, low murmurs in your ear, directing your fingers over your body. He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice, until he’s reduced you to a whimpering mess without even being there.

He doesn’t apologize for earlier, not directly at least. You didn’t expect him to. In a twisted way, that you’re not sure anyone but the two of you would understand, this was his apology.

You’re not sure what changed his mind, but he doesn’t go back to his distant self afterwards. Maybe he’s come to the same realization as you. That neither of you is going to be able to stay away.

He’s on your mind constantly, you catch yourself checking your phone for new messages way too often and smiling down at the screen whenever he’s texting you. You know that you shouldn’t act like this, shouldn’t give him that much power in your mind. But it feels so good, to be seen, to be wanted like that.

You’re both busy; he’s working on an important case and you’re in desperate need to catch up on job applications and college work, which you’ve neglected over the past few days, as your father is quick to remind you.

But you keep exchanging messages, keep sharing hushed whispers at night. It never lets up, the thrill of his voice guiding your fingers and hearing the sounds that he makes when he’s putting his hands on himself. Knowing that it’s you, the thought of you that elicits them.

You’re having dinner with your father, who is home earlier than most days, the brightly lit dining room reflecting off the massive windows, when the bubble bursts.

“You remember Dave, right? From the country club?”

You freeze, your fork hovering in the air over your plate. He knows, your mind screams. No, there’s no way he would know.

You fight hard to appear nonchalant, to not let your face betray you. You nod, humming questioningly in a way that you hope sounds innocent enough.

“I told you how he got divorced recently, didn’t I? It’s been hard on him, poor fella…”

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. You furrow your brow, at a complete loss where this conversation might be going.

“Well, guess who got him a date?! Cheryl from the office is single and I realized, she’s perfect for him! An amazing match. He never goes out, always been a bit of a loner, I guess… But I set them up and they went out last night! Great, huh?”

Your mind is running a mile a minute. You force a weak smile, lifting your head to meet your father’s proud grin.

“Y-yeah, dad. Great,” you echo. You feel hollow.

He leans back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to play matchmaker for you too, eventually, with the way things are going, hm?”

Under different conditions, the snide remark about your dating life and how he’s never been even remotely happy with any guy you had dared to bring home, would sting a lot more. Right now though, you’re reeling from the fact that David went out with another woman last night.

“Sure,” you whisper. “May I please be excused?”

You don’t wait for an answer, already pushing back from the table and rushing up the stairs. Back in your room, you grab your phone, scrolling through your past messages. You didn’t hear from him last night, which you hadn’t found weird at the time, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now.

Maybe he finally realized that someone his age would be much better suited for him. A real woman, not some little girl who still goes to school, calls him drunk in the middle of the night and can’t stand up against her father. Of course that’s not what he wants.

You pace in your room, thoughts running through your head. Do you confront him? You never talked about it, never discussed exclusivity, but still… You don’t want anyone else and you had thought that he wouldn’t either.

After tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you decide not to ask David about it, to not contact him at all. Maybe that’s for the best. Save him the trouble of letting you down. It’s like a weight pulling under, the uncertainty and fear of this being it tying itself into a tight knot in your stomach. But you’ve been desperate enough for him already, you try to reason, you need to stop embarrassing yourself by running after him.

He texts you the next day, sounding just the same way he always does. You can’t bring yourself to not reply to him at all, but it’s clipped, one-sentence answers, which he picks up on soon enough. His name lights up your phone as you’re hunched over your desk in your bedroom, pondering over an essay that you’re supposed to write over the break.

“Hello?”

“Sweetheart.” The deep smoothness of his voice travels from the speaker right under your skin, holding you under his spell the way he always does. “Is something wrong?”

You bite your lip, muttering a no in reply. You sound like a petulant teenager, everything that you don’t want him to see you as.

“Now why do I not believe that?”

You hear his smile in the way he sounds. You want to see him so badly, want to be on the receiving end of that smile. You wonder if Cheryl from the office got to see it last night too. If he’s given her all the parts of him that he’s given you.

“Dunno.” There’s a sting in your voice, not unlike the sting that you feel piercing through your heart at the thought of him with someone else.

Dave frowns at the way you sound. You’re never this short with him, never seemed so sad since that night you called him drunk and he turned you down. And even then, it was different, not dismissive the way you are now.

His anxious mind immediately provides him with a variety of explanations. Maybe you’ve finally come to your senses and realized that you don’t want him. That you don’t want a man twice your age, that him wanting you actually makes him a fucking creep, that he isn’t as great as you’ve built him up to be in your head. Maybe you’ve realized that what you’re doing is wrong. He wouldn’t blame you for it. One of you should be reasonable and end things for good. He has been telling himself that.

But you sound so upset that worry settles in his gut. He feels that pull towards you again, only that it’s not explicitly sexual this time. He just really needs to see you, to touch you, to make sure that you’re okay.

The invitation for you to come over leaves his lips without thinking about it, just the overwhelming need to have you close. You pause, so long that he gets even more uneasy, but eventually you agree.

Dave knows that something is wrong as soon as he opens the door. You look smaller, slightly curling in on yourself. You don’t meet his gaze, eyes downturned and without the spark in them that he sees in his mind when he thinks about you. He pulls you into a hug, one that you barely return.

His bedroom door is once again firmly closed, and he’s directing you towards his couch again. Still the last invisible line, the one that he tells himself will keep him from letting you in all the way. Your eyes linger there for a moment, he can almost see the wheels turning in your head. You deflate even more.

He hates to see you like this. Fights the urge to wrap you in his arms, satisfy his hunger for your lips and fuck you until every trace of that sadness written over your face is erased.

The door that you presume leads to his bedroom is closed, just like the last time you were here. You wonder if he opened it for Cheryl, if she got to see a part of him that you didn’t. Then again, he probably treated her like a lady. Wined and dined her properly, maybe a chaste kiss to say good night. Because she’s someone who’s right for him, someone worth putting the effort in. Not the quick fuck that you had been.

He probably invited you over to tell you in person that he really can’t see you anymore. That he means it this time. You suppose that in his mind, that’s the decent thing to do. You think that you would have rather had him text you about it. That way you wouldn’t have to pretend, wouldn’t have to tell him to his face that it’s fine, that you understand, don’t worry.

Still, he called and you came running. Like a fucking idiot.

You sit down on the edge of his couch, decidedly keeping the images of the last time you were here buried in your memories. “Do you want something to drink?” You shake your head no and he sits down beside you. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the simmering need that you feel for him, even now. Please just get it over with.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You’re not looking at him, keeping your eyes on your hands, your fingers gripping each other tightly, tense like the rest of your body.

“Do all what?”

You bite your lip, attempting to swallow down the anger at the fact that he’s gonna make you the one to say it, but it’s no use. Your eyes fly up to meet his.

“Make me come here, to talk to me in person, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. You– you could’ve just texted me.”

He furrows his brow, a hint of defensiveness in his warm brown eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

You scoff. “My dad told me. About your date.” You’re never like this, your voice biting and your eyes glaring. You’re never like this and you have no right to be like this now, getting worked up over the end of something that never even was, not really. “I’m sure she’s nice. A great match, he said, so you’re gonna tell me to fuck off. It’s okay, I understand.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. A lump is building in your throat and your eyes burn with unshed tears. This can’t be happening. It’s bad enough that you feel this much about it, but it’s indefinitely worse to have him know it.

David’s expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s not–” He slips one hand in between yours, gently pries your fingers away from each other. “You thought that’s why I asked you to come over here?”

You shrug, once again unable to meet his gaze.

“The date was shit. I wouldn’t even have gone if Jim hadn’t kept bugging me about it.”

Inhaling deeply, you slowly trail your eyes up to his face again.

“Really?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. His lips press against your forehead.

“Promise.” He sighs. “You sounded so upset, that’s why I asked you to come–”

You sniffle, suddenly feeling stupid about the whole scene you made. He holds you a little longer, and you revel in his scent that’s engulfing you, in the warmth and solidness of his body. When he finally pulls away, his hand finds your chin and lifts it until you’re looking straight at him. A hint of amusement is glinting in his eyes.

“Were you jealous, baby?”

You’re well aware that he can see right through you, but shake your head anyway. He allows himself a grin.

“What then? Worried that you’ll find no one else to fuck you like I do?”

Heat is burning in your cheeks, but you can’t help but laugh. He’s not wrong, at least partially.

Your lips curling up and the soft laugh tumbling out of you soothes him, eases the sting in his chest. The severity of your reaction to the idea of him dumping you for another woman took him off guard. He never wants to see that kind of hurt written over your face ever again.

He should have told you, he realizes that now. He knew nothing would come out of meeting with that woman that Jim had been boasting about all week, but what was he supposed to say? No need pal, I already got everything I need fucking your daughter?

He doesn’t know when you began feeling like everything he needed. He knows that you shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t check his phone as often as he does, shouldn’t spend his days fantasizing about you, shouldn’t imagine you by his side almost constantly.

But how can he not, when you’re looking at him like this, your eyes so wide, so filled with trust. Always ready, always desperate to give him everything of you. Like a dream come true that he didn’t know he had.

“Maybe,” you admit, teasingly but still so, so soft. Everything about you is so fucking soft. His to touch, his to defile. Because, inexplicably, you fucking let him.

He needs to reassure you that he’s worthy of that trust. He leans in closer, feels your breath ghosting over his face as his nose nudges against yours. He pauses, searches your expression for a moment. You dip your chin down in a tiny nod and he’s onto you, chases your mouth with his. He pours all the emotion that he doesn’t understand, can’t begin to name, into the kiss. How much he misses you, how often you are on his mind. How he doesn’t want to hurt you, wants to do right by you, but has no clue how.

Your lips move against his with more fervor, a mess of tongues and teeth clashing against one another. Your whimpers drip into his mouth, leaving him drunk off you. Heat spreads through him, like a fire that’s going to consume you both. He thinks that he wants it to.

He trails kisses down your throat, sucks at the skin, relishes in the shivers that it sends through your body. You grasp at his shirt, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons, but he stops you. Nipping at your collarbone, he looks up at you, takes in your wide blown pupils, the hunger in your eyes.

Maybe this is all he can give you, but he’s going to do that right. He’s going to give you what he can, as long as you let him.

He hooks his fingers under the neckline of your dress, pulls it down a little, inhales the sweet scent of your perfume. Every new inch of your skin that he reveals fills him with the need to worship it.

“Will you let me make it up to you, sweetheart?” He mouths at your skin again, his eyes still trained on your face. “Let me make you feel good?”

You nod eagerly, a breathy please, David falling from your lips. He runs his hands up your thighs, marvels at the almost feverish warmth of your skin, before he lifts your dress and helps you pull it over your head.

Your underwear is white this time, a picture of innocence that only he knows is an illusion. His arousal swells at the thought, his cock pushing against the confines of his pants.

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits, his hands trailing over your waist, tightening his grip momentarily and enjoys watching you squirm in response. “I think about you all the time.”

Your gaze flickers for a moment, and he realizes what he just said. It’s not a lie, but also not a truth that he intended for you to know. You bite your lip, expression turning thoughtful for a moment. Then a small smile spreads over your face.

“M–me too,” you whisper, a bit shy, like you’re still half-expecting him to take it back, but putting your trust in him anyway.

He has to kiss you again, remove all remaining doubts about how much he wants you from your mind. Licking into your mouth, he starts toying with the cups of your bra, pulling them down just so that his fingertips can graze over your nipples. You press your body into his touch, your back arching off the cushions, and he undoes the clasp, lets the fabric fall away from your body.

He runs his fingers over your flesh, teases the hardening buds, loves the way you keen into his mouth in response. Palming your tits roughly, he pulls away a little to look at them. He doesn’t think that he’ll ever tire of the sight of his hands on you.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Like you were made for me.” It stings only a little right in this moment, while he’s touching you, to know that you are not. He can keep pretending, for a while. It’s worth it, seeing how you light up at the praise, how you drink in his every word, sinking deeper into his touch. His, his, his.

David peels your panties off of you, the image of the white lace against his hand one that you know will burn itself into your memory. His eyes linger on the fabric, a grin slowly growing on his face. Arousal tingles at your spine at the sight. You’re entirely bare now while he hasn’t removed one item of clothing. The obvious power dynamic leaves you feeling vulnerable, you and your body at his mercy, but you trust him. To treat you the way you want, need to be treated, to push you to your limits and to still keep you safe.

The weight of his hands lands on your thighs, slowly pushing them apart, making room for his body between them. You’re acutely aware of how wet you are, and how clearly he can see it right now, with your folds all spread out right in front of him. You feel your slick coating your inner thighs, feel his breath ghosting against it.

He groans at the sight and sinks to his knees, almost at eye level with your pussy. The realization of what he’s about to do sinks in as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your clit that has you trembling. But still–

“Y–you don’t have to do that,” you stutter, suddenly feeling a different kind of vulnerable. A shame that you can’t explain starts welling up inside of you.

He pulls back, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at you. His hands gently push your thighs back together, leaving you less exposed.

“Do you not want me to?”

You bite your lip, fighting not to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know. I– I’ve never–” Your voice trails off. A fire is burning in his eyes, intimidating you.

“No one’s ever eaten you out?” He sounds incredulous.

You shake your head, shoulders moving up in a shrug, a wave of embarrassment growing in you. “Men don’t really… like to. In my experience.”

He sighs and leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your left knee. “Most men are idiots.” It’s mumbled into your skin, lips moving against it. His fingertips inch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You deserve to feel good, baby.” His voice sinks into your skin, low and raspy, and you have no choice but to believe it. “Will you let me make you feel good?” he asks again.

His dark eyes are on you, his fingers still tracing shapes over your skin. So close to where you want him. You’d let him do anything.

“Please, David,” you whisper, for the second time.

He pries your legs back open, a low growl in his throat as you’re spread out for him. Then he dives in, licking and sucking at your clit, gently at first, but quickly getting more intense, until stars start to burst behind your eyelids and you’re gasping his name. It’s overwhelming, unlike anything that you’ve ever experienced before.

He lets up momentarily, licking through your slit, drinking up your arousal that’s dripping out of you and groaning at the taste of you. His mouth moves to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh. He bites down suddenly, sinking his teeth into your skin and you scream his name at the unexpected burst of pain that transforms into pleasure almost instantly.

He does it again, and again, leaving his marks on your body. It hurts just right, the sensation of him leaving his trace on you, marking you as his. You clench around nothing, desperate to feel him on your clit again, to take you the final bit to the top.

As if he was reading your mind, he lets up his ministrations on your thighs and kisses his way to the spot where you need him so desperately. Your fingers sink into his hair, tugging at the roots, and he looks up at you, smug pride glinting in his eyes. He licks through your folds, nudges at your entrance with his tongue, before his lips find your clit again, closing around the sensitive nub.

You come within seconds, the waves of your arousal crashing over you so suddenly that it takes your breath away. His groans vibrate against your skin as he laps at you, drinking you down. You feel like you’re in heaven.

David gives you time to calm down, gently mouths at your heated skin, licks over the spots where you feel the indents of his teeth, before he kisses his way up your body. You taste yourself on his lips when they connect with yours. It’s messy, and filthy, and you can’t get enough of it.

You whimper when he pulls back and his eyes find yours again, his almost black, the pupils blown wide. He rises to his feet and looks down to where you’re spread out, thighs parted, on full display for him as he towers over you. He leans down, a finger tapping against your mouth.

“Open.”

Your lips part immediately, giving him all the access he wants. He groans at your obedience, trails his knuckles over your cheek for a moment, before raising his hand to your eyes. He’s holding your panties again.

“These are so pretty. Would be a shame to just leave them lying around, don’t you think?”

You let out a sound, something akin to agreement. His grin widens.

“Good girl.”

His fingers push the fabric into your mouth, your spit soaking the material, mixing with the arousal that’s already sticking to it. You moan at the taste, your eyelids fluttering shut.

His palm connects with your cheek in a light slap. Not hard enough to sting, but your eyes fly back open at the sensation. You grind down onto the cushions, desperate for friction as another wave of need floods you.

“Eyes on me, remember?”

You try voicing a sorry, but it comes out garbled and he chuckles. Soothing his fingers over the spot he just slapped.

“There’s no need for you to talk. Just be a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?”

Your body is buzzing, but your mind is blissfully empty. Ready to give yourself over to him, to submit to whatever he asks. It feels so good, so easily being able to please for once in your life. To follow rules and be praised for it. Simple. Safe.

He wraps the lace around your head and ties it together in the back, effectively gagging you, leaving your mouth opened, the fabric stretching against the corners. Your desire is coursing through your body with so much force that it’s almost painful.

He kisses you over the gag, pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands wraps around your throat, applying a hint of pressure. Your hips chase him, your arousal close to unbearable. He chuckles against your mouth before he pulls back.

“Such a good girl.”

He teases you endlessly. Drinks in the sight of you writhing under him as his fingers are back on your nipples, tugging them harshly and eliciting soft mewls from you. You look beautiful in the golden light of the evening sun that’s falling through his windows, almost angelic.

An angel that he wrecked, already so fucked out when he finally sheds his own clothes and starts sliding his cock through your folds. He coats himself with the slick of your desire, taps his head against your clit, nudges at your entrance again and again without sliding inside.

Your whimpering cries are music to his ears, your fingernails digging into his shoulders sting just right. You’re pleading with him through the makeshift gag, your words all muffled, and he revels in the desperation in your eyes. Loves the sight of it.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he coos, slides over your clit again. “Tell me.”

You’re trying, trying so hard to get out real words, and he chuckles at your efforts. Deciding to grant you a little mercy, he pushes the head of his weeping cock into you. He throbs at the feeling of it, of how your slick pissy tries pulling him in deeper. You’re whining at the stretch, your hands desperately grabbing at him, before he pulls back again.

Your eyes are swimming with tears, silently pleading with him. It’s like a rush. You’re always such a good, polite and well-behaved girl, so sweet, and here you are, completely bare and spread out underneath him, crying to get fucked. By him. He’s a bad man, he knows it. He doesn’t care, not when it feels like this.

He smirks down at you. “Say please.”

It’s obvious that you’re trying, your tongue struggling against the soaked fabric in your mouth. He lines himself up once more, looks at your face, at the desperate hope written out in your eyes. Then he slams into you. You scream, gripping his shoulders so tightly that he thinks you’ve drawn blood. He couldn’t care less.

Now that he feels your tight walls all around his cock, engulfing him with pulsing heat, it’s impossible to tease you any longer. He pulls back, just to sink deep into you, again and again. You cry out at every thrust, every time that he hits that spot deep inside of you that leaves you such a trembling mess.

He can tell when you’re starting to tighten around him, your cries getting higher, and he knows that you’re close. Slowing down, he leans his head down to yours, his thrusts becoming more shallow.

“Hold it,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against the soft shell of your ear. A whine escapes from your throat, fresh tears falling from your eyes, your whole body trembling underneath him, your cunt squeezing him deliciously tight. He’s breathless, high on the control you’re giving him, on your level of obedience, doing every single thing that he asks from you.

Letting you calm down a little, he busies himself with kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach. Almost bursting with arousal himself, he knows that he’s not gonna be able to keep this up much longer.

When he speeds up again, he sets a harsh rhythm, jostling your body with every thrust, mesmerized by the way your tits bounce with the movement. Your walls start tightening around him again, pulling him in. He can’t hold back anymore.

“I’m gonna come. Gonna leave you just as messy as those little panties of yours. ‘S that what you want?”

You nod eagerly, more unintelligible pleads stumbling through the gag.

“Fuck, come here–“ His fingers scramble, ripping the fabric out of your mouth to kiss you properly, to feel your tongue against his.

His hips move at rapid speed, pumping into you and chasing both your orgasms. He’s breathless, high on the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing him so tight. You come with a cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, and the sensation of you clenching around him sends him over the edge as well. He buries himself deep inside of you, spilling his cum to leave you just as messy as he promised you.

“Fucking perfect, like you were made for me, only want you sweetheart…” He’s rambling, barely aware of what he's saying, still lost in the bliss of his orgasm. The words only register when an unreadable expression flies over your face in reaction. Shit. He goes through things to say, ways to somehow explain, though he couldn’t even explain the words to himself.

His mind quiets when you smile shyly and burrow your face in his neck. He moves the both of you until you’re a tangle of intertwined limbs, resting on his cushions, watching as the light slowly fades outside. You’re warm in his arms, your breath coming softly, fanning against his skin. It feels too right to be wrong, he decides silently.

The peaceful silence between you breaks with a chime from his phone, a message from your father.

“Looks like I’m invited to have dinner at yours,” he says, turning the screen towards you.

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing for your own phone to check the time. “I should get going.”

He helps you get dressed, until your still soaked panties end up in his hands again. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the hem of your skirt, on the bare thighs beneath them. You take a step closer, your hand stretched out for them, but he pulls them away, sliding them into his pocket.

A smirk grazes your features as you take another step closer. “Again? Really?”

He shrugs, takes your hand to pull you into him. Your responding giggle is a sound that he’ll never get tired of. He sneaks a hand under your dress, palms your bare ass and presses your body against his.

“Be a good girl and stay like this, for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, before he kisses you once more.

A grin slowly grows on your face as you realize what he’s saying.

“Deal,” you agree, your eyes glinting.

You’re sitting down next to him, sliding into the chair beside him with the most innocent, sweetest smile to both your father and him. You’re still wearing the dress that you left his place in, the one that, if you’ve been good, you’re bare underneath.

He reaches for you almost instantly, hidden under the tabletop, the pull towards your skin too strong to resist. You tense up for a moment, throwing him a quick glance, before you relax into his touch. He draws circles, featherlight on your skin, and you part your thighs a little more, allowing him to slide further between them.

Focussing on the conversation with your father isn’t easy, not when you’re right here beside him, so pliant under his touch.

“So, how was it with Cheryl?” your father asks, far too invested in the whole thing for Dave’s liking. You’re looking down at your plate, your shoulders slumped forward.

He shrugs, his hand traveling upwards, beneath the hem of your skirt, pulling your thighs apart a little more. “She’s nice, but– Not the right fit for me, I think.”

The memory of meeting the woman flashes through his mind. “You must be Dave,” accompanied by a shake of his hand. All wrong, so different from the way it sounds when David falls from your lips. He had wanted to leave right then and there. His grip on you tightens at the memory.

“Well that’s a shame,” Jim sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I really thought you two were a good match.”

Dave grunts noncommittally, taking another bite of his food.

“This one,” your father continues, his eyes falling to you, “has yet to find a good match as well. Not the best choices so far.” He chuckles, either blind or indifferent to the way you seem to shrink in your chair. You mumble something about focussing on school and your career right now, your voice so small that it breaks Dave’s heart.

“Boys your age are idiots anyway,” he says, grinning at how your eyes widen, his emphasis on your age in no way lost on you. “Wouldn’t want to have them distracting you, right?”

You nod silently, but fire burns in your eyes when his hand reaches so high that his fingers swirl through the slick that’s covering your upper thighs. Dave grits his teeth, fighting the urge to kiss you right here and now, consequences be damned.

It’s wrong, it’s so so wrong, but it’s like he’s lost in a haze, high on the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. On the way your thighs fall open so willingly for him, always such a good and obedient girl. On the way you both know that you’re bare underneath your skirt, dripping with the filthy proof of what you did together. On the way he’s staked his claim all over your inner thighs, to the point that he’s certain the indents of his teeth are still pressed into your flesh. All while your father has no idea what’s happening right in front of him.

The secret rebellion of it thrills you, he understands that now. He wonders if that’s what he is to you, an opportunity to do something so deliciously forbidden that you couldn’t resist. He’ll gladly be that for you. The idea to be the person who brought this out in you thrills him too.

He somehow makes it through the evening. Not a single conversation topic has found its way into his memories. All he can think about, all that he knows he will remember is the feeling of you under his tight grip. All his.

You had excused yourself when your father brought out the whiskey, squeezed his hand under the table before you stood up, carefully smoothing out your skirt. Call me, you had mouthed, turning back to look at him before exiting the room.

He knows that he will.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #fic: wildest dreams #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedrostories

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nebulousbrainsoup · 9 months

Text

Insurrection

Chapter 1: Catalyst

⛧ SUMMARY: One choice, made to fan the flames of love, may be the spark to start a war. ⛧PAIRING: vampire!kang yeosang x hunter!reader ⛧GENRE: fantasy, angst (so much angst), smut ⛧AU/TROPE INFO: fantasy au, vampire au, forbidden lovers, hurt no comfort ⛧WORD COUNT: 4.8k ⛧TAGS/WARNINGS: major character death (i'm so sorry), blood, violence, lots of emotion, mental breakdowns, pet names ([my] love, darling, love, Sangie), protective!yunho and protective!yeosang, treating vampires as unseelie fae, not beta'd ⛧RATING: mature ⛧A/N: for @a1sh1teruu; happy christmas from your secret santa! very sorry i'm a few days late; life has been interesting lately and this baby got away from me! i hope i didn't go too hard on the angst you asked for, but i did ask for your hard limits and, uh... i'm an angst writer first and foremost. (if i did go overboard, please please let me know, and i will whip you up something warmer and fluffier.) this did begin as a standalone, but the lovely @kwanisms convinced me to make it a series, so here we are! there will be a few more installments; a prologue and at least one sequel. even if no one else does, zerda, i hope you enjoy this. much love, orion <3 ⛧ smut tags under the cut ; banner by momther ki (kwanisms) ⛧masterlist | join my taglist | buy me a coffee?

⛧ SMUT TAGS/WARNINGS: sex as a distraction/coping mechanism, yeo has vampire speed and strength (don't look too close i didn't logic), sensitive pointy ears, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (boo), multiple orgasms (fem), pet names (Yeosangie, Sangie, baby, darling, love, my pretty girl ), mentions of exhibitionism & sharing if you squint, lack of aftercare bc they're both exhausted

In hindsight, perhaps you should have seen the signs. You had never seen Yeosang eat, no matter how many cafés you frequented together. He had been known throughout the village for his strange attire, the reverse of the seasons; he was covered from chin to fingertip to toe in the summers, while the dark winters found him showing a bit more skin. His pale complexion or the way he could throw you around in the bedroom without breaking a sweat may have given him away to you if you had paid closer attention. You hadn’t, though, and now you paid the price.

Your elders stood in a semicircle in front of you, stony faced, and your blood ran cold. Gideon glowered at you over the top of his steepled fingers, jaw tight.

“Kill or be killed, Y/N,” he spat, “the decision is yours. Kang Yeosang will not be able to protect you from us.”

It took every fiber of your being to hold back the shiver that threatened to tear down your spine. Your mind swirled as you bowed your head respectfully, hands clasped tightly in front of you. Something churned in your gut as you met his eye; whether or not his words would ring true was still to be determined, but you knew he and the rest of the council would try their absolute hardest.

“I understand, Elder Lewis. I will begin my preparations immediately,” you agreed, turning on your heel to see yourself out of the room. Three of the five sat straighter at your promise, one smiling proudly. You sighed in relief; so long as most of them believed you, you would survive the night. You could warn him and, if you were lucky, run.

For most, Yeosang and the rest of his coven were nearly impossible to find; he had told you some story ages ago, but now the secrecy made sense. Few were trusted with a map to their home, and you were thankful tonight to be one of those elites. Strategically placed vines guided you through the trees like flags, their leaves blending into the color of the evergreens’ needles to the untrained eye. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you hurried through the snow, fists clenched at your sides. The path was familiar and though time seemed to drag on in a blur, it felt like you arrived in seconds. The trees parted to a familiar, comforting sight; three cabins and a grand hall circled around a small clearing, and you beelined for Yeosang’s front door.

It was his roommate, Yunho, who opened the door and tried to greet you but you pushed past him, body and mind set on your comfort. You practically collapsed into Yeosang’s arms, a small, pained sound leaving you as he bundled you into his embrace. His quiet questions and murmured comforts were lost on you. Your mind was running at a thousand miles a minute, a million questions running through your mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were vampires?” The first inquiry fell from your lips thoughtlessly, and you felt the air disappear from the room. Yunho’s footsteps halted where they were parting to allow you privacy, and you could feel the tension spike. The silence rang louder than any scream. “And don’t try to deny it; I’ve seen the evidence.”

“Who… how did you find this out, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, shoving him away from you and taking a step back. Behind you, you heard Yunho shift to his friend’s defense, but a sharp glare from Yeosang seemed to halt him. “I’m a hunter, Yeosang. You’ve known this; don’t play dumb. My elders showed me your files today,” you paused, turning over your shoulder to glance at Yunho. “All of ATEEZ’s files.”

You watched as the elder coiled like a spring, ready to strike, still pinned in place only by your boyfriend’s scathing stare. Silence once again stretched for what seemed like an eternity, heavy across your shoulders. Finally, Yeosang broke it.

“Leave us, Yunho.”

“Absolutely not.” The reply was immediate, the taller boy standing straighter, his chin high. “I’m not leaving you alone with a hunter.”

You scowled, hearing your boyfriend growl a warning. You knew his expression must match your own. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with my girlfriend alone.”

Yunho opened his mouth to speak again but this time, you were the one to silence him. “I understand your worry and I appreciate your drive to protect your coven. I am not here to hurt Yeosang; I am here to… to ask for help,” you admitted, turning back to glance at your lover. “I forgot to even grab my knife before I left, if I’m being honest.” Yeosang let out a strangled noise of protest, worry painting his face, and you held up a hand to keep him quiet. “The elders… Gideon gave me a choice today. Kill or be killed. And I… I don’t want to do either.”

You could see Yeosang’s heart breaking, the corner of his lips curling down and his brow furrowing. “Yunho, please,” he murmured, “let us figure this out.” He gave no response, but a moment later, you heard the front door click shut, and Yeosang was bundling you back up into his arms.

The moment you were alone, you shattered into pieces. You grasped his shirt in fists as tears flowed like waterfalls down your cheeks, his grip around you tightening like a vice. Sobs wracked your body violently, and you thanked the gods for Yeosang’s strength as, despite your knees buckling under you, you remained upright. He muttered quiet reassurances into your hair, hands running soothingly up and down your back.

When you calmed, he gently guided you back, eyes soft and open as he cupped your cheeks and wiped the tears from them. You screwed your eyes shut and gripped onto his wrists like a lifeline, willing a fresh wave of emotion back.

“It will be alright, my love,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “We’ll figure it out together. You can stay here for as long as you like, and we’ll protect you like our own.”

You whined in protest, eyes blinking open slowly. Sniffling, you shook your head. “I can’t ask that of you. If I’m tracked down, they’ll kill you all too. Hongjoong wouldn’t be willing to take that risk for a simple little mortal, much less one who has trained her entire life to hunt and kill him. He would be crazy.”

Yeosang giggled quietly, smiling gently. “I think you’ll find he is a little crazy when the situation calls for it. He trusts you like one of us already; he allowed me to show you the path here. You will be welcome.”

Hesitantly, you nodded, resigned to accepting your lover’s offer. There was little else you could do. “I will need a few things from the stronghold. I can go back to gather them tonight, and return tomorrow.”

Peeking over your head and out the window, Yeosang frowned. It had been nearing nightfall when you had arrived, and the thought of you unarmed and stumbling through the dark forest unnerved him. He pulled you against his chest, carding a hand into your hair to scratch at your scalp.

“Stay with me tonight, love. Let this be the first night of our new lives together. Let me protect you.” You felt your shoulders relax with every word he spoke, a soft smile playing at your lips. He had already convinced you but he continued, eyes flickering down to your lips. “Let me distract you.”

You let your tongue flick out over your lips, drawing his attention back to them as you grinned. Hands slipping up his chest, you pressed closer to him. “What better way to spend our first night together?”

Yeosang grinned, tugging you in to crash your lips together. You hummed happily as you melted against him, one arm draping over his shoulder while the other carded into the hair at his nape. He held you to him tightly still, sighing against your mouth as you melted against him.

“Take me to bed, Yeosangie,” you muttered when you parted for breath, and he was more than happy to oblige. Strong arms braced under your thighs and lifted you in one fluid motion. Before you had time to think, you were in his room with your back pressed to the mattress, and you let out a squeak of surprise. Your lover was grinning at you when you pulled away. “Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I assume you’ll be using all of your fancy vampire powers at every turn, hm?”

“Maybe not all of them,” he teased, pressing kisses up your jaw. “I’ll only bite if you ask nicely,” he purred into your ear, his silky baritone sending a shudder down your spine.

You whined, tugging him back up by his hair to lock your lips, legs wrapping around his middle to pull him impossibly closer. He groaned, low and broken, as you ground against him, losing himself for a moment before he pinned your hips down to the bed.

“Tonight is all about you, my love,” he hummed, hands running down your thighs as he sat back on his knees. You pouted up at him and he couldn’t help but grin, kneading at the soft flesh under his fingers. “I’m going to take my time with you and savor this. No more quick nights at the tavern, hm?”

You shuddered under his touch, eyes flickering to the door. “What about Yunho?”

The grin on Yeosang’s face was purely wicked and heat ran through your body. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure the whole coven can hear you.”

Despite his promise to take his time, Yeosang stripped you down quickly, tugging your shirt off and trousers down to leave you in only your undergarments. The moment he could, he leaned down, nipping at your inner thigh and grinning triumphantly at the sound it pulled from you. His lips quickly found their way to your throat as he let your legs fall in favor of slotting himself between them, lips attaching themselves to your throat. The drag of his teeth over your pulse had you whining into his ear, breath ghosting over the subtly pointed tip. It was Yeosang’s turn to shudder, all of his blood rushing south at the feeling. He sighed, burying his head against your shoulder as he gathered himself.

Or tried to, because a moment later, you were tucking his hair behind his ear, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin, and he was choking back a moan. “C-Careful,” he muttered, reaching up to grab your wrist and halt you. “They’re sensitive.”

“I don’t see the issue,” you hummed, drawing his gaze back up. You were grinning down at him and it was a pretty sight, but the mischief twinkling in your eyes had Yeosang wanting to wipe it from your face.

Pinning your wrist to the bed, he slipped down your body at lightning speed, face level with your clothed core. In an instant, his tongue was pressed against you, and you let out a choked shout at the wet warmth that joined your own arousal. Yeosang grinned proudly once more, letting his teeth graze lightly over your heat as he sat back. That particular friction was foreign but pleasant, pulling a pretty little whimper from you.

“Do you still not see the issue with playing with sensitive areas, love, or shall I continue?”

Not one to be upstaged, you huffed a sigh, the corner of your mouth ticking up in a grin. “I don’t think I quite get it.”

Yeosang chuckled, leaning back to lap a stripe up your thigh. Nipping at your hip, he slowly began a path up your body, leaving wet kisses in his wake. You sighed, the sound like music to his ears as you turned to putty beneath his hands.

Your bra was the next garment to leave your body, tossed carelessly to the side as his mouth descended on your chest, lips quickly closing around your peaked nipple. One hand bracing himself, the other lit a contrastingly cool trail down your torso, coming to rest over your underwear. A quiet squeak left you and you squirmed under him, his icy fingers bringing a delicious new sensation to your warm arousal while his lips worked over your other breast.

“Sangie,” you gasped out, one hand tangling into his hair and tugging encouragingly. “More, please.”

Chuckling lowly against your skin, he obliged, pushing the fabric of your panties to the side to slide his fingers through your wetness. You whined and writhed under him, hips seeking further stimulation—this wasn’t enough. The pad of his finger circled your clit and you jolted, a pitched whine leaving you that had Yeosang’s control snapping in an instant.

He needed more, and he needed it now. More of you, more of your lovely little sounds, more of your warm body pressed against his cold one.

Pulling back from your chest with a wet noise, he sat back on his heels, tugging his shirt off and tossing it away from him. Your remaining undergarment was pulled off and discarded as he stood, quickly ridding himself of his final layers, too. He drank you in with a gaze that made you feel like prey, delicate and helpless underneath the ancient power that coursed through his veins. Pride swelled in his chest as he took in your open-mouthed, hungry stare. He chuckled to himself and ran a hand across his broad chest, letting you drink in the sight of him. His grin only spread as he watched you turn away from him, shy.

“My pretty girl,” he hummed, running his fingers up the insides of your thighs as he settled between them again.

Your pretty little whine had him preening as he lowered himself to your core, grinning up at you. Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he held eye contact and sighed against you as you shuddered, before his tongue flicked out to tease at your slit. He delighted in the way your hands flew to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you urged him closer. His sharp, calculated gaze remained on you as he flattened his tongue against you, humming happily at the taste of you. His eyes rolled back in his head, finally slipping shut as he began to lose himself in the ecstasy that was your essence.

Your sounds only grew as he began to eat you out in earnest and they went straight to his cock; Yeosang found himself rutting into the mattress within minutes, desperate to find any amount of friction. His pride fell to the wayside as he gripped your thighs hard enough to bruise, fucking his tongue into you with fervor. He barely came up for air as he buried his face in your pussy, pleasured moans leaving him as he chased both of your peaks. Your tugging on his hair was what brought him back into his mind and, though he shot you a glare, his fingers quickly replaced his mouth.

You were gasping for breath as he sat upright, grinning proudly while your legs dropped to rest over his elbows. “What’s the matter, love?”

“C-Can’t, g’nna cum,” you gasped, hands coming to rest over his biceps as you melted back into the mattress.

“Oh, well if that’s all,” he hummed, slowly lowering himself back down. You whimpered, hands tangling back into his hair at the warmth of his tongue and the chill of his fingers, but gave no further sounds of protest as he dove back into you. Within seconds, your legs were clamping down around his ears and he was opening his eyes, drinking in the sight of your ecstasy as he worked you over the edge. With one final suck to your clit, he sat back on his heels and drank in the whine that left you, sighing happily.

“Gods above, you taste good,” he murmured, licking his lips hungrily.

“Yeosang,” you whined, hands clawing up his arms to pull him close, “need you baby, please.”

“Need what?” He grinned, shifting up to cage you in completely, his cockhead teasing at your folds. You whine, shifting lower, and he clicked his tongue as one hand came to rest over your throat, stilling your movements.

You whined, blinking up at him with wide, doe eyes, and he had to bite back a growl. “Your cock, Sangie, please.”

He grinned down at you devilishly as he pressed into you, drinking down every whine and moan that spilled from your mouth as he sealed his lips with your own. When he was finally sheathed within your warmth, he sighed happily and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his and he felt secure, safe, as he began a slow and deliberate pace.

“So long as you’re mine,” he whispered against your skin, his speed building. “I will protect you. What is mine is the coven’s and what is the coven’s is mine.” You clenched around him, and he groaned lowly, his eyes squeezing shut. “We keep our own safe.”

You clung to him like a lifeline, the air crackling electric between you as you climbed to your second peak at record speed. The way his speed built in tandem with the passion of his words had you squirming, clawing for him. He shuddered, too, as your walls spasmed around him, his own orgasm catching him by surprise. He sat up straight and sheathed himself in you fully as you both rode out the waves of pleasure, his hips rolling in tiny circles to prolong it.

With one last kiss to your forehead, he pulled himself from you and collapsed to your side. He gave himself to the count of ten to bask in the warmth as he felt himself quickly falling into the meditative state he considered “sleep,” emerging from the brink of it to clean you. You sighed, basking in the attention, and Yeosang’s heart skipped a beat as he crawled back into bed with you—tired, cuddly, smiling, perfect you. He prayed you were asleep as he whispered into your hair.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You hid your grin in his chest and fell asleep in his arms.

When you awoke in a bed that was not your own, the curtains around you pulled shut, you startled. Yeosang was laid next to you reading, and as you stirred, he glanced up from his page. “Good morning, darling.”

You smiled, turning over to press a kiss to his cheek, grinning when he flushed and turned back to his book. “Good morning, Sangie. What time is it?”

“Just after sunrise.”

Huffing, you pushed yourself up from the bed. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so late. I’ll have to hope no one has a route in this direction today,” you muttered as you went about gathering your clothes, strewn about the room. “And that no one decided to hang around near my room.”

Yeosang set his book aside, frowning. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will do no such thing, Kang Yeosang,” you protested, continuing on before he could speak. “The moment you are within firing distance of the castle, the elders will see you taken out. Stay here and speak to Hongjoong; I’ll only be gone a few hours.” He frowned deeply, eyes tracking your movements carefully as you tugged back the curtains an inch. “It’s bright out today, anyway. You wouldn’t be very comfortable past the treeline.”

The fight was over before it had really started, logic winning out over Yeosang’s protective nature. You were right; in the full sun of the day, with the snow reflecting it back up at him, he would be weak. Not only would protecting you be a challenge, his presence might hinder the speed of your mission.

“Alright. I’ll speak with Hongjoong. I’ll give you until noon to be back before I start looking for you.” Grinning, you bounced back across the room, leaning down to press a kiss to Yeosang’s lips. He hummed happily as he carded a hand into your hair, gently tugging you back for more.

With a hand on his shoulder, you kept him at bay, chuckling quietly to yourself. “You had enough of me last night, love. You can have more tonight, but you have to let me go get my belongings.”

The sigh that left him was half-hearted at best, and you huffed another breath of laughter. “Fine. Be safe and hurry back.”

“I will.”

As the door shut behind you, something unsettling stirred in his gut. For inexplicable reasons, he felt as though you were lying.

“Yunho, you met this girl. Can we trust her?” Hongjoong questioned, folding his hands neatly in his lap as he leaned back in his chair. He looked relaxed, at ease in the safety of his own chambers, only the twitching of his jaw giving away his current inner turmoil.

The man in question thought for a moment, shrugging and giving a small nod. “I think Yeosang coming back in one piece today is a pretty good sign.”

He nodded slowly, mulling the request over. It was a great risk for the coven to take in a mortal, both to the mortal and the coven. Word had spread on one occasion they did such a thing, and they had been forced to move rather abruptly. Y/N’s upbringing as a monster hunter added another convoluted layer to the whole ordeal; she could be playing them to spy for her order or, if they truly were on the hunt for her, she could end up getting them all killed. But no matter how stoic and strict he may look to outsiders, Hongjoong had an undeniable soft spot for his coven. So, as Yeosang stood there, a determined and pleading look on his face, the elder vampire caved.

“Fine. But let her know that she will be expected to pull her weight. She can stay with you and Yunho until we figure out other living arrangements,” he conceded, huffing an annoyed sigh that held little weight. “Now go tell the others.”

Yeosang beamed, practically bouncing toward the door and flinging it open. Wooyoung, who had just started up the front porch steps, startled and fell back against San.

“Y/N is coming to live with us!” He blurted out, and the pair shared a confused look. “It’s a whole long story. Speaking of, have either of you seen her? I can’t wait to tell her.”

Wooyoung recovered before San did, blinking back into himself and sharing a bright smile with his friend. “That’s great! I can’t wait for her to meet everyone else. Sannie, I think you’ll really like her. I haven’t seen her around today; is she here?”

“She went to gather her things from the hunters’ stronghold. She should be back any minute.” Something unpleasant coiled in Yeosang’s gut, and he frowned. “You didn’t happen to see any hunters on your way back in, did you?”

San and Wooyoung shared a look that had Yeosang’s blood running cold. “We did,” San confirmed. “They were headed away from here, though. We didn’t bother with them.”

Behind him, someone stirred, and Yeosang spun on his heel, eyes pleading with Hongjoong as he approached. “She said she’d be in danger if she ran into other hunters. We have to look for her.”

Resolutely, Hongjoong nodded, turning back over his shoulder. “Yunho, get Jongho. San, Wooyoung, go get Seonghwa and Mingi. We’ll head toward their stronghold and work outward—stay in pairs, stay out of sight, and do not eng—”

Before the leader could finish his sentence, a sharp scream echoed through the forest, and Yeosang’s eyes widened. He went rigid for a moment, keen ears twitching as they scanned the forest, tracking the echoes until he could pinpoint a near exact location of origin. He was moving before he could think, dashing down the path and into the treeline. Dodging trees and leaping over fallen branches as he tore through the brush, the warning shouts of his coven fell on deaf ears. They would follow, he knew. He only slowed for a moment when he caught the scent of your blood in the air, tripping over his own feet before pushing forward with even more purpose.

In hindsight, he should have realized that your familiar yell was not one of fear, as he had been so worried about. He should have taken even a moment to breathe.

You were still upright when he barreled into the clearing, wrestling with another hunter for what looked to be a blade. Your face was twisted in a grimace, desperation and anger marring the features he was so used to seeing alight with joy. He called your name and you turned, the panic-stricken look you sent him sending confusion and hurt lancing through him. He was here to help; shouldn’t you be happy to see him?

In hindsight, he should have realized why your cry was so familiar to his ears. Maybe he would have registered that it had been full of pure, white-hot rage; the same rage you directed at him during your first meeting.

Time slowed, and with the snap of a wire, Yeosang understood.

The bolt burned as it pierced through his ribs, and his vision went white with the pain as he toppled forward, falling to his hands and knees with a shout of his own. This time, there was pain in your exclamation; he couldn’t quite make out the words, but he heard the break in your voice that he knew, all too well, meant tears were brimming. He tasted iron as he coughed, distantly registering the shadow of black that splattered the snow in front of him.

It had been a while since he’d seen his own blood.

More shouts echoed as he fell to his knees, vision going black for a moment. When his sight returned, you were in front of him, and Yeosang’s brow furrowed. Humans like you, as far as he knew, couldn’t move that fast. He glanced over your shoulder, gasping—when had the coven gotten here?

Another blink, and he was on his back, staring up at your distressingly heartbroken expression. Your hands cupped his cheeks for a beat, and he melted into the fleeting feeling, grumbling in disapproval as they streaked down his neck to his sides. About halfway to his hips, they stopped, and the pain that sparked through him had him coming back to his senses, a shout choked behind his teeth.

“Leave it,” he hissed, and you made a pained noise. The iron crossbow bolt had embedded itself firmly and, despite his protests, you gave it another tug. This time, Yeosang shouted, bolting upright and batting your hand away from him. “Barbed,” he croaked, falling back to his hands and knees. “You’ll rip me up if you take it out.”

“And it’ll poison you slowly if I don’t,” you urged, reaching for him. “You can heal the injuries, please.”

Yeosang frowned deeply, eyes squeezing shut as he took stock of his body. “Not… quickly enough.”

“Please let me try,” you begged, hand settling below his wound. “Please give yourself a chance. Let me give you a chance, Yeosang, please.”

Oh, how weak he was for you.

Swallowing thickly, he screwed his eyes shut and nodded, rolling once more onto his back with a wince. “If it pleases you.”

“None of this pleases me,” you shot back, choking on a sob around your words. Your grip solid around the arrow’s shaft, you gave a strong tug, and Yeosang shouted through gritted teeth as it came free. “I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry,” you breathed, cupping his face.

“No more… apologies. This is not your fault,” he muttered between coughs. His mouth felt wetter than usual and he turned, dizzy as he watched more black mar the white ground. “Oh.”

“Stay still, Sangie, please, let your magic work. Don’t make things worse. Just… stay here. It’ll be okay.”

You didn’t sound sure. Yeosang huffed a laugh, coughed. “I won’t heal… fast enough,” he muttered, rolling once more onto his back. “H’ngjoong s-said… You can stay with us. Make sure he keeps… ‘s word.”

His eyes fluttered shut. He was so tired all of a sudden. Distantly, he could hear you calling to him, could feel your hands on his cheeks. He smiled, leaning into the warmth of your palms, a stark contrast to the chill surrounding him. The world was turning to white noise; Yeosang sighed.

One voice, familiar and filled with venom, cut through the roar. He was just used to listening for his Captain, after all, and he heard him clear as day now.

“You have just declared a war.”

Everything went quiet.

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heli-writes · 1 year

Text

Seven summers, part 1.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!reader

Summary: Every summer, Draco and y/n meet. First, by pure coincidence, then intentionally. Unbeknown to Draco, y/n's a muggle who has no clue he's a wizard. With the rise of the dark lord, how long can this go well?

Part 1, Part 2

Series Masterlist

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

First summer

I can't wait for summer to be over, y/n thinks. Y/n just turned eleven and after the summer, she starts at a new school. Her family just moved into the area and she can't wait to get to know kids her age. Today, her parents took her to London to get some school supplies. Her mother dragged her to Waterstones to get her school books but y/n managed to get away and to wander into the fantasy section. She loves nothing more than fantastic stories about fairies and evil witches.

She's engrossed in a book about an elven princess when she suddenly hears: “Pah, stupid smugglers!“. She looks up and sees a blond boy her age who holds a fantasy book in his hands. Maybe he goes to my new school, she thinks. Being desperate to finally find a friend, she says: “Yeah, you're right. They're so stupid.“ Y/n has no idea what a muggle is but hopes the boy doesn't notice. The boy turns around and looks her up and down. “Are you going to school at Hogwarts then?“, he asks. Y/n tries her best to hide her disappointment. Of course, it was too good to be true. “No, unfortunately not.“, she says. “Durmstrang then? My father wanted to send me there.“, he continues. “No, my parents are sending me to-“, she starts. “Ilvermorny School. You're American, right? I notice your accent.“, the boy interrupts her. Y/n is taken aback. She thought she practiced her English accent really well. She doesn't want the other kids to make fun of her accent. “Is it that obvious?“, y/n blurts out. The boy laughs. “Yeah, you sound like there's a potato stuck in the back of your throat.“, he says. Y/n feels her ears burning up. “I'm Draco Malfoy. And you?“, the boy asks. “I'm y/n l/n. Nice to meet you.“, she answers. Y/n is glad that the conversation goes in a different direction. “You wanna get out of this muggle shop?“, Draco asks. Y/n thinks about it for a second. Her mom is still somewhere in the school section. Whatever, she thinks, I can call her on my phone late. “Sure.“, y/n says, “You wanna get some ice cream? There's a truck down the road.“ Draco agrees and the two of them exit the bookshop.

“So, what kind of flavour do you like?“, y/n asks Draco. “Chocolate.“ he immediately says. Y/n orders for both of them and hands Draco both cones so she can pay. “It's 3 pounds and 60 pence.“, the vendor tells her. Y/n starts digging in her purse and puts some coins in her hand. Being used to American dollars, she has to turn around every coin to see its value. It takes quite a while to count the money together and she gets embarrassed by the line that forms behind her. “Don't worry“, Draco tells her, “The muggle money confuses me too.“ Draco's cryptic use of the word 'muggle' confuses her, but she decides it's probably a British word that she doesn't understand yet. Like hoover or flat. “So, what are you?“, Draco asks. Y/n takes a

lick from her ice cream. “What do you mean?“, she asks. “Your blood. Pure or mixed?“, he asks. Y/n thinks it's a weird question. Does he want to know if both of her parents are American or if one of her parents is British? I guess it's somehow a valid question, y/n thinks, what other reason does an American have to be in Britain? “Oh, I'm a pure blood. My parents are only here for work. They work at the embassy, you know.“, she tells him. Draco nods as if he expected such an answer. “I see.“, he says. “When does school start for you?“, y/n asks him. “First of September.“, he tells her. “Same for me.“, she says. Suddenly she gets really shy. “Do you... Like... Would you like to hang out before school starts?“, she asks him. Draco looks a bit taken aback as if he didn't expect someone to want to hang out with him.

Before he can answer, a loud and somewhat shrill voice yells: “Dracooo! What are you doing? Let's go!“. A woman with black hair and a blond streak waves from across the street. “That's my mother. I got to go. See you around, l/n.“, he tells her and turns to leave. He seems eager to not answer y/n's question. “Wait! What about hanging out?“, y/n yells after him. Draco turns around for a second. “I'll send you an owl.“, he quickly says before taking off. Y/n looks after him dumbfounded. An owl?, she thinks. Is that an app the Europeans use that we don't? Like whatsapp? She thinks about it all the way back to the bookstore where her mother scolds her for leaving without telling her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Second summer

Y/n's early. Way too early. Usually, she's always late and only catches her train to school by the second. But today she's early because her dad has a work thing and dropped her off at King's Cross early. Having a couple hours to kill, y/n wanders aimlessly through the train station. There's so much to see. One of y/n's favorite hobbies is people-watching. Some may call it being noisy but y/n doesn't care about that. Currently, her focus is on an old, fat guy who is picking his nose. I wonder what he's going to do with it, she thinks. He puts it into his mouth. Ewwww, she thinks and quickly turns around running head-first into someone.

"Watch out where you're going, you filthy muggle!", someone says in a disgusted voice. A voice that sounds all too familiar to y/n. "Draco?", she says in disbelief. "Oh, it's you.", Draco answers while straightening his jacket. Y/n takes a good look at him. He has grown a good few inches taller. But not yet taller than me, she thinks proudly. Other than that, he pretty much still looks the same. His blond hair is still glued to his forehead and he works that same disinterested facial expression as the last time he saw him. "I thought you wanted to send me an owl.", she points out reproachfully. Suddenly, Draco looks embarrassed. "Yeah... my parents didn't want me to send a stranger letters.", he says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I guess I understand that.", y/n replies. After all, she hadn't told her parents about meeting him last year. "So, how's life? The new school?", she asks him. Draco scoffs. "School could be better. The place really is going down. My father already wrote the ministry about it.", he says dismissively. "I see. What about friends? Did you get to know some people?", she continues to ask. "I guess. At least they're loyal.", he replies. Y/n nods excitedly. "That's so important. I became friends with this girl, Becky, at the beginning of the school year but later, she made fun of my backpack behind my back. Obviously, we're not friends anymore.", y/n chats happily. Draco shifts uncomfortably on his feet. He's not sure what he's supposed to answer to this chit-chatty nonsense. "Well, did you get revenge on her?", he asks. An evil grin spreads over y/n's face. "Well, what do you think? Of course, I did! I collected a bunch of bugs and put them into her shoes during P.E. Never heard a person scream so loudly.", y/n chuckles. That puts a grin on Draco's face. "Good. Don't let others take advantage of you.", he tells her. Y/n nods. "What is taking you to the station today?", she asks and points towards his suitcase, "Are you going on a trip?" "No," he answers, "School starts today." Y/n is a bit confused. "Why are you taking a suitcase then?", she asks. Draco looks at her as if she's asked what color the sky is. "Hogwart's a boarding school.", he points out as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh, that's cool. Must be fun, having a sleepover with your friends every night.", y/n replies cheerily. "Right...", Draco says. "Draco, where on earth were you? Didn't I tell you to stick around?", a man says behind y/n. He's tall, blond and carries a strange-looking cane. That must be his dad, y/n thinks. "I'm sorry father. I just ran into y/n, the American girl from last summer.", Draco says and y/n thinks he suddenly looks a few inches smaller. His father scoffs and musters y/n from head to toe. Suddenly she's glad she's not wearing her school uniform yet but one of the new dresses her mom got her during her summer holiday in Italy. "Ah, so you're the American. What does your father do for work again?", Draco's father asks her. "Oh, he's working at the embassy.", she answers uncomfortably. "I see.", Draco's father answers. "Actually, would it be okay if Draco and I write each other letters from time to time? It'd be nice to know how things are at other schools.", she quickly asks him. The man ponders on the question for the moment. "I guess it'd be good to know how things are at Ilvermorny since we are considering transferring Draco.", he eventually answers. Y/n gives Draco a booming smile and he gives her an oppressed smile.

"Father, we still have some time. Would it be alright if y/n and I go to that muggle café around the corner?", Draco asks his father. "Why would you want to do that? Why don't you take her to a proper place? Like the Leaky Cauldron?", his father answers appalled. "It's just closer to the station. That way we don't miss the train.", Draco quickly adds. His father sighs and waves him off. "Fine, fine. I have business to attend to. Just see that you are in front of the platform in time.", he says. Y/n quickly says her goodbyes and quickly follows Draco to the 'muggle café' which turns out to be a Costa. They order some tea and make themselves comfortable on the couches close to the window. "So, tell me about Ilvermorny.", Draco demands once they sat down. Right, Ilvermorny, y/n thinks, the school I don't go to. "You see, actually I don't...", she tries to explain when Draco suddenly spots someone outside the window. "Potter! Look at that who's arriving with that blood-traitor family. Unbelievable! How low can one person sink?", he exclaims indignantly. Y/n quickly looks out of the window and sees the back of a raven-haired boy alongside a family of redheads. "Who's that?", she asks him. "Oh, just Harry Potter. My archnemesis.", Draco replies in a bored tone. "You have an archnemesis?", y/n gasps, "How did that happen?". "Well, y/n, you see wealthy and powerful people like me always end up having enemies.", he boasts. Y/n thinks about Becky who keeps spreading rumors about her after the whole bug situation. "I guess Becky's my archnemesis then.", she says, "You should try putting bugs into his shoes." Draco scoffs. "Unfortunately, we're not in the same house, so I don't really get an opportunity to do that.", he tells her. When she asks about the houses, he explains the system to her and y/n decides that it's the same thing as being in a different homeroom.

After finishing their teas, Draco and y/n part ways at platform 9. Draco tells her that he needs to catch the train at platform 9 3/4, which y/n doesn't really understand. She doesn't worry too much about it since a lot of things that Draco says don't make sense to her and a lot more things he says are kind of rubbish in her opinion. Considering he was technically her first friend when she moved to England, she lets it slide. They wish each other a successful school year and Draco promises to send her an owl as soon as he sets up his room at Hogwarts.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dearest y/n,

Life at Hogwarts is annoying as always. The food's still terrible and the education less than adequate, at least according to my father.

However, good news are that I've achieved to become the seeker for my house team. Finally, I can show that Harry Potter what it really means to play this game.

I hope things at Ilvermorny are well for you.

See you soon, Draco Malfoy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Draco said he'd send an owl, y/n did not think he'd literally send an owl. It probably should've concerned her when the feathered fellow landed on her windowsill with a bright red envelope in its beak addressed to Ms. Y/n L/N. But when you're 12 years old and an owl brings you a letter, you'd think it's super cool and something straight out of your favorite book. Y/n's mother probably would have lost it at the sight of the bird sitting on y/n's desk.

Y/n immediately wrote him a letter back and gave it to the own alongside a piece of her peanut butter jelly sandwich that was meant to be eaten during lunch break. Over the year, sending letters back and forth became a regular thing for the two. Y/n often didn't understand what Draco was talking about (A seeker? Like in hide and seek?) and filled the gaps with her imagination. Draco often didn't understand what y/n was talking about and shrugged it off with the excuse that y/n's American (Angry Bird? That must be a magical beast native in America!).

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Third summer

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dear Draco,

My mom's taking me to London next Friday. She visits a friend from the office. I've asked to tag along so that I can do some shopping in London.

Are you in London that day by any chance? Maybe we can have some ice cream again.

Hopefully see you soon, Y/n

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Y/n, are you listening?", y/n's mom pulls out her headphone out of y/n's ear. "Seriously, you kids and your technology!", she sighs, "I've told you to get some school supplies while you're out with your friend, did you get that?" Y/n rolls her eyes at that. "But mom! I'm out to have fun with my friends, not to go school shopping.", she whines. "C'mon, y/n, you're going to hang out at some shops anyway. Might as well get something useful.", y/n's mom says and shoves a few pound bills into y/n's hand. Y/n shoves the money into her bag and hops out of the car. "I pick you up, here, at 5 o'clock, y/n. You'd better be here. I'm not gonna go looking for you.", y/n's mother says sternly. "Yes, Mom.", y/n says obediently while rolling her eyes again on the inside. Then, she takes off to meet Draco at Trafalgar Square.

When she spots the blond-haired boy, she starts waving both hands above her head. "DRACOOO! I'M HERE!", she yells and grins widely. When Draco notices her, he walks towards her. "Why are you being so loud? Seriously, the muggles are already noticing us!", he hisses while grabbing her arms and pulling them down. Y/n gives him a mischievous smile. "Let them watch. What are they gonna do about it?", she says. Draco lets go of her hand and scoffs. "I guess you're right.", he says, "Let's go, though. Can't stand to be around them for too long." "Alright," y/n says, "Where do you want to go?". "Diagon Alley, of course.", Draco points out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Y/n, not wanting to look stupid in front of her friend, says: "Oh, of course! Lead the way!".

The two make their way to the entrance of Diagon Alley. When they stop in front of a brick wall, y/n thinks for a moment that Draco got them lost. But when the bricks start to move and an entry to a hidden street is revealed, y/n's jaw is on the floor. Draco doesn't seem to notice this and grabs her arm without looking at her. "C'mon, before a muggle sees us!", he says and pulls her into the alleyway by her arm. When the brick wall rearranges itself behind her, y/n has to swallow and a pit starts to grow in her stomach. "I want to go to Sugarplum's first.", Draco tells her while pulling her through the alley by her wrist. Y/n barely can keep up with him, mostly because her head is turning in all directions at once. There's a person in a pointy head and there's a broom sweeping the floor by itself. There's a small man with pointy ears and there's a small cage with little dragons in it. Y/n's head feels like it's about to explode when Draco stops in front of a bright pink shop door. Y/n is still questioning her sanity and everything that's real as Draco pulls her into the shop.

"What kind of candy do you like?", Draco asks her while letting his eyes run over the shelves of different candy jars. Y/n releases a breath that she didn't notice she was holding. Finally, a sentence that makes sense to her. "Chocolate.", she tells him. "Then you should get these chocolate frogs. Do you know them? Do you have them in America, too?", Draco asks. Y/n looks at the packaging he put into her hands. "No, sorry, we don't have that in America.", she tells him. She's pretty sure also the British kids in her school wouldn't know what this type of candy is. Y/n slowly starts to realize that the misunderstandings Draco and her tend to have, do not have something to do with culture and more to do with... well what? Y/N's still not sure what this place is or what is going on this street. The only thing she knows is that everything in this street is absolutely normal for Draco, while for y/n, it's something totally out of a movie. Draco starts to fill a paper bag with different types of candy that he takes out of glass jars. "So, uhm, Hogwarts, eh?", y/n tries to cover up her insecurity. "Ugh, yes!", Draco sighs dramatically. "I swear, you wouldn't believe what happened this year!", he tells her. Y/n relaxes a bit and is glad that Draco is utterly oblivious to the y/n's shock. "Why? What happened?", she asks him. "The so-called chamber of secrets was opened and a bunch of people got turned into stone!", he boasts as if that was a good thing. Y/n swallows. Just what kind of school does Draco go to? "Uhm... and did they die?", she asks him carefully. "No.", Draco says unbothered. "But Potter got to play the hero again. My dad told me to stay on the low which is what I did. However, if I investigated the whole thing, the whole issue would've been solved way earlier.", he tells her. Y/n has to snicker at Draco's arrogance. "What you don't believe me?", Draco grins at her. Y/n raises her hands in defense. "I would never, I'm convinced you're the greatest guy at your school! Certainly greater than the boys at my school.", she tells him truthfully. During the last part, she has to think of Connor O'Sullivan who tried to impress the girls in her class by snorting a line of sherbet powder which resulted in a visit at the school nurse's office and a school-wide ban of sherbet powder. Draco puffs his chest at that and tells her: "I know! I'm gonna be one of the greatest wizards ever!". At that, things fall into place for y/n. A wizard! Of course! The owl, the broom, the guy in the pointy hat. Things make a lot more sense now, y/n thinks to herself. At the same time, she comes to the realization that Draco must think she's a wizard, or witch, too. An American witch, at least. Suddenly, y/n feels really bad. I need to tell him, she thinks.

While y/n is deep in her own thoughts, Draco pays for the candy and leads her back outside. "So, Draco... Thanks for showing me this place. I've never seen anything like it...", she starts, trying to ease Draco into the conversation about how she's not a witch. "Ha!", Draco laughs, "You've never been to Diagon Alley? Your parents must suck if they only ever showed you the muggle side of...". Draco stops midsentence and warily stares at a girl their age and her parents on the other side of the street. "Muggles!", he swears under his breath. "What?", y/n asks him. He blatantly points towards the family. "They're muggles. That's Hermione Granger. She's in my grade level. Her parents aren't witches.", he tells her. "Oh.", y/n just says and immediately feels great sympathy for the couple that looks around quite awkwardly. "I don't understand why they even let people like that in here and into Hogwarts. They should be banned!", Draco continues his rant. "What do you mean?", y/n asks stupidly. "Well, clearly muggles like the Grangers shouldn't wander this street. They don't belong here. And Hermione Granger shouldn't be allowed to attend Hogwarts. After all, her magic doesn't come from witches.", Draco explains. Y/n crooks her head. "She's got magic. Doesn't that make her a witch?", she asks him. "Well... technically, but she's still a muggle-born!", Draco defends himself. "You keep saying muggle as if it's a bad thing. It's not their fault that they don't have magic.", y/n argues. She notices how she gets offended and angry by Draco, now that she knows that the word "muggle" includes her too. "Well, you're right, it's not their fault they're muggles. However, being muggles, they're still oblivious to magic and the real world. We wizards could wipe them off the face of the earth if we wanted to.", he talks back. Y/n thinks about this for a second. "So what you're saying is the following: muggles are born without magic, which isn't their fault, but they're still inferior to wizards and that's why they should be grateful that you let them live?", she points out. "Yes.", Draco says and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "That's bullshit.", y/n concludes. "How so? Didn't think you're such a great muggle defender.", Draco provokes her. "Well, all people are different. Some people are stronger or smarter or prettier than other people. For every weakness you have, I have a strength, and the other way around. Together, we can do anything.", she tells him. "Aha.", Draco deadpans, "And what do muggles bring to the table when it comes to 'together we can do anything'?".

Y/n thinks about that for a second and lets her gaze wander through the scene of Diagon Alley. Everything looks like it comes straight out of the Middle Ages, she thinks. "Technology.", she suddenly blurts. Draco rolls his eyes at that. "No, seriously. For example, you send me an owl to communicate with me. Your owl takes several days to send messages back and forth. If you were a muggle, you could just send me a message on your smartphone. Your message would reach me within seconds.", y/n explains. Draco stays quiet for a while. Seems like I've got you, she smirks to herself. "Well, I still think muggles suck.", Draco tells her. Now he's just being petty, she thinks. "Well, I think you suck, too." y/n tells him equally petty. Draco turns around and looks are her offendedly. "What? Why? What did I do?", he asks her. "You are being a prick, Draco. You judge people based on something they can't do anything about. It's as if I would judge you because of your hair color.", she tells him. Draco gives her another offended side look. "What's wrong with my hair color?", he asks her. "It's the same color as your face.", y/n snaps at him, "It makes you look like a ghost." Suddenly, Draco's face has a different color than his hair, namely red. "A ghost? I don't look like a ghost. Ghosts are transparent, you know! Or have you never seen a ghost?", he takes a swing at her. Jesus, are ghosts real, too?, y/n asks herself but quickly answers: "Of course I have! But you still look weird like that! More dead than alive!" Draco huffs and tries to answer: "Well and you look like... like...!" Desperately, he tries to find a fitting insult to y/n's appearance but he doesn't come up with anything. Probably because he actually finds y/n very pretty. Y/n has to laugh heartedly at Draco's dumb face. She slaps his arm. "I guess I'm too gorgeous to be insulted by a ghost.", she giggles and the tight atmosphere around them loosens up a bit. Draco secretly agrees with her and is glad that the argument is over. "Let's just not talk about muggles anymore.", he proposes and y/n agrees. She decides to keep her being a muggle a secret for a while longer.

The two of them continue their stroll through Diagon Alley and y/n takes her time admiring all the magical things around her. The street gets fuller and fuller, too. Soon so many people push themselves through the small space that y/n is worried, she'll lose Draco in the masses of people. She quickly latches onto his hand. Draco grips her hand firmly and leads her through the alley. Y/n is so distracted by everything that's around her, that she doesn't notice how the tips of Draco's ears turned a bright red ever since they started to hold hands. Eventually, they turn around and come to a stop in front of a tavern which has a big sign over its door which reads "Leaky Cauldron". "Let's have a butterbeer before heading back.", Draco tells her. Y/n agrees and they go inside.

Y/n is immediately in love with the place. It's cozy and spooky at the same time. The couple sits to rest at a table close to the bar and they order their drinks. Y/n observes the people in the tavern. Some people look exactly like y/n would imagine a witch or wizard to look like, others look like people you'd meet in the normal world as well. Y/n takes a closer look at Draco and ponders whether or not he looks like a wizard. The ghost aspect clearly gives him supernatural plus point, she decides. "Why are you staring at me?", Draco asks her uncomfortably. "I just decided you do look very wizardly.", she tells him. Draco sits up a bit, clearly content with that. "Well, I am a wizard.", he tells her. Y/n nods. "True, but that guy over there does not look like a wizard.", she tells him and points to a boy their age which sits a few tables behind Draco. Draco turns around and then lets out a loud laugh. So loud, that the boy and his friends turn around to them. "Shhh!", y/n tells him and grabs his arm. Draco turns back to her with a clearly amused expression on his face. "That's Harry Potter.", he tells her. "Your archnemesis?", y/n asks dumbfoundedly and Draco nods. Y/n takes a closer look at the so-called Harry Potter. Not only he doesn't look like a wizard, but he also looks like he's never seen a barber shop from the inside. "So, what do you think?", Draco asks her. Y/n supports her head with her hand and stirs her yellowy drink. "I thought he'd look more intimidating.", she tells him truthfully. Draco snickers. "Yeah, he looks like a pathetic worm, doesn't he?", he says proudly. Y/n doesn't agree with his choice of words but lowkey agrees with him. "Why do you even bother with him?", she asks him. Draco shrugs. "He's annoying and thinks he's better than me.", he tells her. Y/n doesn't think that Harry Potter looks arrogant. She thinks he looks like an average, maybe even below average, boy their age. She doesn't like his round glasses. They make him look silly, like a grandpa, she thinks. "I wouldn't worry so much about him. You said you're in different classes, didn't you?", she asks Draco. Draco nods. "Yes, which means we're constantly competing against each other. For the house cup, you know?", he tells her. Y/n doesn't know. "We don't have that at my school. We barely have anything to do with the other classes in our grade. We only see them during the break at the schoolyard. That's it.", y/n replies. "Geez, you're lucky.", Draco tells her, "Even my dad constantly wants to know what that Potter guy is doing, and beware he's better at something than I am." Y/n finds it weird that Draco's father, a grown-ass man, is so interested in a minor's life that is not his own child. Yet then again, y/n also thought Draco's father was weird the second she saw him. "You shouldn't have to compare yourself to that guy.", y/n says softly, "Remember how we all have different strengths? You're definitely better than that guy in some things, I bet." Draco's face lits up. "Potions!", he tells her. "I'm really good at Potions but he sucks. To be fair, our professor also hates him. He still sucks, though." Y/n nods in agreement. The two of them continue to chat a bit and Draco tells her all about Harry Potter and his gang of three. Y/n should feel strange that she gets to know so much about people she's never met. Then again, she does love some juicy gossip.

Eventually, y/n takes a look at her watch and notices that it's already half past four. "Oh, no! It's already so late! I need to get back! My mom will be furious if I'm not punctual.", she says as she jumps up and scrambles together her things. Quickly the couple gets up and hurries through the wall that rearranges itself. Draco walks with her to the agreed pick-up point with y/n's mother. Luckily, her mother hasn't arrived yet. "I guess that's it then.", Draco says and puts his hands into his pockets. "I guess so." she replies. There's an awkward silence between them. "Hey Draco?", she asks, "Are you still mad about the conversation earlier?". Draco shakes his head. "No, it's okay. Muggles are a controversial topic. It's okay if you think differently than I do.", he tells her. Y/n sighs in relief. "That's great. I really would have hated it if we stopped being friends over this." Draco chuckles in relief, too. "Yeah, that'd be stupid.", he agrees. Y/n clutches her hands behind her back. "You know, Draco, I'm really gonna miss you this school year. It's always funny with you", she tells him. There's a faint blush on his cheeks. "Yeah, uh... I'm gonna miss you, too. You're silly. Most of my friends are too stern and serious.", he replies. Y/n chuckles and then opens her arms. Draco awkwardly steps into her arms and she gives him a bear hug. He shyly hugs her back. "You promise to write me?", y/n whispers into his ear. Suddenly, there's a lump in Draco's throat. Only now he realizes that he's never been so close to a girl before. "Y-yes. I'll write you.", he says hoarsly. Y/n gives him one last squeeze and then steps back. "Meet again next summer?", she asks. Draco gives her a loopsided grin. "Meet again next summer.", he agrees.

#harry potter #draco malfoy #wizarding world #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction

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lovelytsunoda · 2 years

Text

there's a honey // lance stroll ( mini fic )

summary: lance thinks that the image of y/n reading her scandalously smutty romance book is the image of sensuality. or, private library sex with lance <3

pairing: lance stroll x fiancée!reader

warnings: inappropriate use of a built in bookshelf, sex in a library, smut!! jokes are made because these two are unable to take anything seriously, and they're so hopelessly in love with each other that it needs to be said every five minutes or so : )

author's note: private library sex is literally as kinky as i get so . . . gotta give a shout out to @magnummagnussen for listening to me talk about this idea and putting up with me. all love <3

the room was quiet, her own peaceful hideaway from the rest of the world as y/n sat in her wicker egg chair, feet tucked up underneath her and glasses perched on her nose, a paperback book in her hands with an innocent front cover and a cryptic title.

the kind of romance book that was sixty percent porn and forty percent plot.

"babe?" lance's voice was quiet as he pushed open the door to the library.

he had built that library with his bare hands after they got engaged. well, not really. sebastian, mick and esteban had helped. the built in ikea shelves were lined with bright, worn spines.

she had a paper copy of every book she had read in the last fifteen years.

"hi." y/n grinned, slipping her bookmark in between the pages, the paperback nestled on her lap as she kissed her fiancé, the small white diamond on her ring finger glittering the daylight. "how was your workout?"

"terrible, like always." lance shrugged, sliding into the chair next to her. "how's your book?"

"it's a trip, let's put it that way." she laughed, passing lance the paperback. "it was getting really good when you walked in."

lance raised an eyebrow, opening 'twisted love' to the page that she had bookmarked. his eyes scanned the words on the page, widening with every word as he took it in, his jaw dropping as his cheeks began to run red.

"and you were reading this with a straight face?" he slammed the book shut, running his fingers through his hair. "god, i love you so much."

y/n laughed, tangling her fingers with his, bringing his knuckles to her lips to press a kiss to the back of his hand. "what are you going to do about it, lover boy?"

"watch me." lance grinned, pressing his lips to hers in a feverish kiss.

they stumbled out of the chair, pillows falling to the floor with the paperback as they giggled into the kiss, no space between their bodies as lance backed her up against one of the bookshelves, teeth nipping at the skin on her neck.

"mhm, maybe i should let you know when i'm reading romance books more often." she hummed, resting her head against the paperbacks behind her, one leg wrapping around her lover's.

"oh, what was that series you read about the f1 driver's that was factually inaccurate but had you in a literal chokehold?" lance wondered, mumbling against her skin as he peppered kisses under the collar of her sweater.

y/n giggled, fingers tangling in his hair as she answered. "it was only inaccurate to you because you actually drive. i didn't know jack shit about the sport when i read those. like, i think we had only just started dating. it was the dirty air series. god, the things i would let santiago alatorre do to me."

"hey!" lance pouted in fake discontent, his hands on her waist as she giggled sweetly and innocently. "bringing up your fictional characters when your very real future husband wants to fulfill your biggest sexual fantasy."

"maybe i'm feeling a little naughty today." she smiled sweetly, pulling him closer to her.

"oh, are you?" his lips curled up into a smile. he could never be mad at her. he was the moon, and she was all of his stars. lance grinned like an idiot as he kissed her again, not an inch of space between their bodies as he cupped her face in his hand. "and what do you propose that i do about it?"

he didn't let her answer, spinning her body around so that her ass was pressed against his raging hard-on, her fingers gripping the shelves as he slipped his cold hands up the front of her sweater.

"can you feel what you do to me, beautiful? you're so fucking sexy. and you're smart too." he mumbled, kissing her neck and grinning to himself when he found the sweet spot, a low moan leaving her mouth.

"oh, lance. . ." she gasped, reaching for the back of his head. "i need you, baby."

"i know, my love." he hummed, gently stepping away. "but the way i'm about to fuck you, you might pull out one of the shelves. i think we'd be far more comfortable on the couch."

and that's exactly where they ended up, clothes strewn across the library as snow started to fall outside, a hand knitted blanket wrapped around their bodies.

she was getting the full princess treatment today: lance had already made her come once on his mouth ("god, how worked up did you get just from that book?") before he started fingering her, his fingers curling to hit the most pleasurable places inside of her.

she let out a strangled moan as she reached for lance's free hand, lacing her fingers with his as he kissed her inner thigh, his fingers still working inside of her until he physically couldn't take it any more. until he needed to be inside of her.

he wiped off his fingers using the blanket before he leaned down to kiss her gently, the taste of her dripping core still on his tongue as he slipped his tongue in between her lips.

“I love you, lance.” she said softly, tracing his cheekbones with her thumb. “and I can’t wait to marry you.”

he smiled as he kissed her again, clutching her hand in his tightly. “and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, my love.”

"i've already made a shortlist of historic libraries to hold the ceremony at." she smiled sweetly, touching her nose to his with a soft hum of contentment. "you make me so goddamn happy."

after fluffing the blanket around their bodies and making sure that his fiancée was comfortable, lance gripped the shaft of his cock, guiding his length towards her entrance, teasing the tip up and down her folds.

she moaned, gripping his biceps tightly. "lance, stop teasing, god, i need you to fuck me."

"i bet i could fuck you far better than alex volkov or whatever his name was." lance said quietly, starting to slide his cock in.

"well, he's a fictional character, and you are very, very real.”

"oh yeah?" lance crooned, lifting one of his lover's legs and wrapping it around his lower half as he made his first thrust, eliciting a moan from the woman underneath him. "god, you feel so good." he hissed out, lips ghosting over her skin. "so good for me, pretty girl."

"mhm, i love your cock, baby." she whined

lance began to pick up the pace, moaning lowly as his lover moaned louder, her manicured nails scratching his skin.

"i love it when you moan for me, baby." lance groaned, whispering in her ear. "love making you feel good."

"yes, lance, fuck!" she moaned. "just like that baby. oh, you are so much better than alex v-volkov."

"i know." lance chuckled. "i just wanted to hear you say it."

she laughed, kissing her lover, attempting to speak in between pants and moans. "you're such a dork."

"but you love me for it."

"yeah, i do-oh."

her moan was downright pornographic as lance started to move his thumb in circles on her clit, her fingers digging further into his skin as her back arched

lance would definitely have scratches tomorrow. not that he cared- he'd walk around in muscle tank tops purely to show the marks off when he was at the gym.

"oh, lance, god, i think- i think i'm gonna-"

"i've got you, darling." lance said gently, biting his lip to stop from moaning as she clenched around him. "it's okay, pretty girl. come for me. i've got you, i've got you."

she came with a moan that shook her entire body, hiding her face in lance's chest as he gently fucked her through it, muttering sweet nothings to her as he approached his own peak. he pulled out, pumping his fist up and down his length before he came on her stomach, breathing heavy as he leaned down to kiss her.

"i love you, baby." he hummed, reaching for her hand.

"i love you too, handsome." she said sweetly. "as much as i would love to lay here with you, can you please run and get me a damp towel? you kind of made a mess of my stomach."

"right, sorry. shit, fuck, where are my sweatpants?" he groaned. "sorry, again. you just looked exhausted and i didn't want to push you too far-."

"lance," she said firmly, clasping her hand around his wrist. "it's fine, babe. i just don't think i could get up to get it myself right now."

he came back almost as quickly as he had vanished, patting her skin down with the warm cloth before settling on the couch next to her, pulling the blanket around their bodies as she rested her head against his chest, his fingers moving to play with her hair as she sighed contently under his touch.

and all he could think about was how he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life like this. with her.

Tags:

@libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh @magnummagnussen @diorleclerc

#lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll smut #formula one x reader #formula one #formula 1 smut #mini fic

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greg-montgomery · 2 years

Text

Ivy - Part 10

gif by: @hotch-girl <3

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Sean Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

Series summary: Your relationship with your boyfriend, Sean, is going great. Well, that is until you meet his older brother, Aaron.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

my besties <333 i'm sorry it took me a while to update, but i'm here!! don't yell at me for not tagging anyone in this, no one gets notifications from me anymore, so there was no point. idk who is gonna see this without any tags but i'm posting it for the people who ask me about it and are waiting for an update 🥹 ilysm!!!!! this chaper is hurt/comfort and they're all gonna be okay! i promise!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“I’m saying we should double the prize. A hundred thousand dollars for your one and only. Sounds fair to me.”

Spencer held the button of Garcia’s device so he could speak without being heard by the people on the other side of the phone. “Agree with him.”

Sean nodded, looking at his almost empty apartment, left alone now with only Spencer and Penelope.

“Fine. A hundred thousand dollars. Tell me the place and I’ll bring them to you,” he said with confidence.

“I’m not telling you the location more than half an hour before our meeting. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Yes, Sean wanted to say, but he held back. “Alright. I’ll have them ready by eight o’clock tonight.”

“Good. Wait for my call around that time then. Say goodbye to pretty Y/N for now,” the man’s mocking voice replied, before hanging up.

Sean closed his eyes, exhaling as if it was the first time he had breathed all day. “Jesus…”

“You did a great job,” Spencer said. “They think you’re gonna meet in the evening so they won’t attempt to move locations for now.”

Reid’s reassuring words were comforting, but the weight on his chest was still heavy. “I won’t feel okay until Aaron calls me and tells me he has her.”

You, in his brother’s arms. His greatest fear had somehow turned into his greatest wish. As long as you were safe, nothing else mattered to him.

Being tied up and alone in a basement left plenty of time for your thoughts to travel wherever they desired. At first, those thoughts were filled with Aaron, and Jack, and Sean. But after that last phone call, your fantasies had shifted. This time they were violent and they involved the chair you were currently sitting at, and you using it to hit your kidnappers in the face.

They had, at least, finally shut up and left the room; although you were certain they were still in the house. You closed your eyes to appreciate the silence before a loud bang disturbed your little moment of peace.

“FBI! Drop your weapons.”

Aaron.

Aaron was here.

You smiled. Aaron was here and it was all going to be okay.

You could hear loud noises and yells from the other room, but you couldn’t make out everything that was being said. Two sentences, though, arrived perfectly clear to your ears.

“Where is she?”

“Hotch, slow down, you’re gonna kill him.”

Listening to the mess that was taking place on the other side of the wall and not being able to see any of it was actively killing you, but that torture ended fast when the door opened and you finally got to see the love of your life after a day full of agony.

Your heart melted at the sight of him and the tears you didn’t know you still had inside you spilled.

“Baby…” you cried, as he rushed to get next you.

Derek and Emily followed him, still pointing with their guns. “There’s no one else here,” you informed them.

“Sweetheart…” Aaron’s voice got your attention again. He kneeled in front of you, and started untying you gently.

It was hard for you to get any words out, your voice choked by your sobs.

“I’m here now. You’re okay.” he said.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here. I got here on time,” he said, kissing your forehead. You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or himself. “I got here on time,” he repeated against your skin. “You’re alive, I wasn’t too late this time. I wasn’t too late.”

“What did you do to them?” you whispered.

“That’s not for you to worry about,” Aaron answered softly, helping you to stand up and then immediately lifting you up in his arms.

You could feel the eyes of his team on the two of you. You knew how it looked, yet you did not have the energy to care. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, holding onto one of the straps of his vest, as he walked you out of the building, protecting yourself from seeing the reason behind the blood that had stained the sleeves of his white shirt.

Getting checked up by the doctors didn’t take long since - besides the scars on your wrists and ankles by being tied up - there wasn’t a single scratch on your body.

You shut your eyes letting yourself surrender to the safety of being in Aaron’s car. He was talking on the phone with someone from his team, but you didn’t pay attention to what he was saying, his voice muffled with the sound of the few drops of rain that were falling on your windows, the soft melody coming from the radio, and the sound of the other cars passing. His hand was holding yours, resting on his lap. He squeezed it softly every few seconds as if to make sure you wouldn’t suddenly disappear.

“Sean…” you whispered.

“I called him. He knows you’re okay.”

“Good.” You smiled, and finally dozed off.

Your nose was buried in something soft. A hand was playing with your hair and the sweet feeling of sleep was taking over your body, but you resisted it. Where were you?

Your eyes fluttered open, being met with the fabric of a gray t-shirt. Turning your body to lay on your back and looking up, you saw a pair of brown eyes staring at you sweetly.

“What time is it?” you asked, not recognizing your own voice.

“It’s four in the morning.”

“Four?” You palmed your forehead and closed your eyes, feeling tired and confused.

“I know you needed to shower and eat, but I didn’t wanna wake you,” he explained himself. “How are you feeling?”

“My throat is dry.”

“Here.” Aaron offered you the glass of water that was sitting on the table right in front of the couch you were laying at.

The feeling of the cool water down your throat was worth a million dollars.

“I feel like shit,” you said, handing back to him the now empty glass.

“Wanna take a shower?” he suggested. “Then we can eat something. I cooked.”

You nodded.

You didn’t have the energy to talk; you didn’t have the energy to cry. And you felt immeasurably grateful it was Aaron that you were with. Someone who understood you, someone you didn’t need to fake it with.

He led you to the bathroom and quietly removed your clothes. An action he had done before, but this time there was nothing sexual in his movements. There wasn’t lust in his eyes. Only care and worry.

“That’s it,” he whispered, as you stepped into the shower. He made sure the temperature of the water was perfect and then he placed the shower head above you so the water would be poured all over you. After a few moments, he opened the shampoo bottle, and dropped some of the product on his open palm. The feeling of his fingers scratching your scalp was what broke you.

Your sobs were soft and your tears blended with the shower water. Still, it wasn’t hard to miss that you were crying. But Aaron didn’t acknowledge it, giving you the space you needed, even though he was right next to you. Just when you thought it was impossible to love him more, he made you fall for him even harder.

“I love you,” you attempted to say, not sure if the words even came out.

“I love you,” he answered, cupping your cheeks. His lips touched yours, the kiss light as a feather; a reminder that he was right there and he loved you.

Aaron moved onto washing your body, his touch reaching every single inch of you, washing away every reminder of that experience.

His clothes had gotten wet and some parts even had soap on them, so you figured it was okay if you did something that would make an even bigger mess. When he was done rinsing all the soap of your body and hair, you opened your arms and pulled him into a tight hug. You held him as close as possible to your body and Aaron lost no time before wrapping his arms around you protectively.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank you for coming back to me.”

“Your hair is still wet. You’re gonna catch a cold,” Aaron said from the kitchen, as you made yourself comfortable on his couch. You were dressed entirely in his clothes, seeking comfort in every little thing of his.

He walked towards you, with a bawl of soup and his famous Aaron Hotchner disapproving stare. He didn’t fight you, though, letting you settle in his arms even with wet hair, and fed you the soup he had prepared when you were asleep.

“Baby?” he said, carefully, as you devoured the food.

“Mmm?”

“Are you feeling okay enough to call Sean now?”

His question took you by surprise.

“He asked me if you could call him at some point,” he explained. “He wants to hear your voice.”

“Of course,” you said. “I’m an idiot for not thinking of it earlier. I should have called him as soon as I woke up.”

“No, you’re not. You went through a lot today.”

“Still.”

You were in the middle of dialing his number when you realized what time it actually was. “Aaron, the sun is not even up yet. Isn’t he probably sleeping now?”

Aaron’s gaze dropped on his lap, in what you figured was guilt. “He said he wouldn’t sleep until he heard your voice. He…he thinks all of this is his fault.”

“It’s not.”

“I know. But you know Sean.”

“Yeah…I do.”

As hypocritical as it sounded, you both shared a love for Sean that you were afraid he would rightfully not accept. Sean would beat himself up for what happened to you, and you would not let that happen. You had already damaged his heart enough.

Part 11

#aaron hotchner x reader #sean hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #criminal minds #ivy #hotch 🪐

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alteon77 · 1 year

Text

Updated Masterlist of Writing and Art

About the writer/artist: I like to write and paint. My current obsession is Sandman, but I enjoy most fantasy fandoms as well as anime (I think I’m on season seven billion of One Piece right now 🤣). I'm also weird as they come (and awkward, too), so just please ignore my oddball (coughTERRIBLEcough) sense of humor.

On a more personal note, I have PTSD and suffer from severe manic depressive episodes. Writing and art are my most familiar coping mechanisms, and I need them like I need oxygen. Seriously, there were times in my life that knowing I had to finish a story or a piece of art was the only thing stopping me from ending up dead. So, I don't take part in fandom drama. Having my peace and protecting my mental health are very big deals to me, and I won't risk those for anything if I can help it.

As for my writing, it ranges from short one-shots to ridiculously long novel series. I use third person POV (on longer series) as well as second person (on shorter things). I also try to always exclude physical descriptions when writing main character OCs and assign them nicknames to avoid using Y/N. I love to read Y/N fics, but writing them makes me feel like I'm at work. And who actually wants to ever feel like they're at work when they're engaging in a hobby? Definitely not me.

Lastly, there's usually more stuff on my AO3 page than I have listed here, because I forget to post it pretty often. Oops. I'll get around to moving it all over one day. Probably. Maybe.

Feel free to leave an ask if you want or just drop by my DMs. <3

Artwork links are at the bottom of this list, so if you're here for those, that's where they are.

Sandman 'Verse

All the Precious and Fragile Things (so easily do they break)

After banishing his lover from the Dreaming for her betrayal, Morpheus learns that she is pregnant with his child.

And that she’s been captured by a revenge-seeking Alexander Burgess.

What the both of them are unaware of is that this will set in motion a cascade of unfavorable events, causing a chain reaction that threatens the whole of existence itself.

PART I: All of This Past

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

PART II: These Tender, Loving Mercies

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

PART III: When It All Falls Down

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

PART IV: The Dark of War

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Epilogue

Sometimes He's Sweet

Morpheus hates the holidays.

As excited as she seems to experience the mortal holiday, he's… less so. Much less so. With the entire collective unconscious contained within him, this time of year can be wholly overwhelming, a miasma of too much red and green, too much worry, too much loneliness, too much excitement, too many similarly themed dreams, too many similarly themed nightmares, and far far too many holiday songs. It all bleeds out from the collective unconscious into his own mind, sticks there like weeping sap to a tree until he feels half-mad with the unrelenting presence of it, with his inability to get free from its cloying trespass upon his very being.

This is just a little sweet fluff for the holiday season. It takes place between chapters 19 and 20 of "All the Precious and Fragile Things". No spoilers here if you've read that far!

The Dog Debacle (or how best to sneak a dragon into the dreaming)

Morpheus' daughter gets a new dog.

Well..... kind of.

That Familiar Feeling of Family (or how Hob Gadling ended up as an uncle to his stranger's oftentimes feral children)

It's a pretty universally known thing that families are just strange. As Hob is quickly figuring out, however, this little fact is magnified by AT LEAST a billion when the family in question is Endless.

(A lighthearted story in which Hob Gadling finds out his stranger has married, makes friends with a homicidal maniac/ruler, and manages to become an exemplary uncle to a pack of magically mischievous children. Really, now all he has to do is convince everyone to stop calling his and Dream's weekly meetups "playdates", and then his life would be practically perfect.)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

The Maker, the Muse, and the Sundered Song

In his temple, what remains of Orpheus waits in trepidation. Something is changing. Something that he knows might alter the very fabric of the world as he understands it.

Finally freed from captivity, Calliope struggles to make any meaningful changes to the laws that saw her bound and taken in the first place. When the strange woman appears on Mount Parnassus and offers help, Calliope knows she would be a fool not to accept it. Even if she thinks that she's being lied to.

Meanwhile in the peace of the Dreaming, Morpheus grapples with guilt over his son's fate. As he basks in the love of his new children, he can't help but to regret his own failings where Orpheus is concerned.

And as for May, she's really just got a job to do. And her own traumatic issues to deal with. And if it's all hella awkward because she's having to work alongside her husband's ex-wife, she'll see it done anyway. There's even the small possibility that she might eventually admit to Calliope the truth about her identity. That is if she can ever actually work up the courage to say it aloud.

Chapter 1

Nothing in This Closet but Boots and a Boy

Morpheus is wildly protective of his daughter.

That's probably bad for the boy in said daughter's closet.

AU's and Other Stuff in the Sandman 'Verse

Of Exes, Hellhounds, and Waffle Fries

Morpheus shows up to rescue the woman he probably loves (though he won't admit it) from hellhounds and ends up getting roped into helping with her family. This is one of those extras that doesn't fit into the main story, but it's fun, so I'm posting it.

The Bizarre Breeding Habits of Anthropomorphic Personifications

It's a tale as old as time.

Two idiots fall in love. Two idiots fall out of love.

Neither one of them is expecting a baby to come along and derail their unhappily ever after.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Original Fanart

I like to play around with different styles and to try new things with my artwork. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't. I'm still learning, and I am so far from being a professional that it's laughable. But I only post things that I think look decent or that I think others might enjoy.

The Lover's Argument (Morpheus x oc)

Oneiros (Morpheus in Grecian garb)

Because I could not stop for Death, she kindly stopped for me... (Regency era Dream and Death)

#sandman fic #morpheus x oc #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus fanfiction #sandman fanfiction #sandman oc #dream of the endless #dad!morpheus #dragons in the dreaming #preciousfragilethings #PFT #bbhap #fanart #fan art #alteon77 fan art

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azucarmorena97 · 10 months

Text

Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.2)

Pt.1 || Pt.3

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: It's as though everything is happening in slow motion; torturously absorbing every ounce of energy in your body for such a simple action as turning your head. When you finally look up at him, you see his expression turn from slight irritation, to full blown anger. "YOU." The venom in his tone is palpable. You smile sheepishly, looking from his parents, to him, to his parents, and then back to him, "H-hey, you." This is gonna be the longest dinner of your life.

"Jungkook," His father calls his name sternly, enough to get not only his attention, but the attention of every patron in the restaurant as well, "What the hell is the matter with you?" Jungkook looks at you and then back at his dad, "Well, Dad, the crazy bitch from the air port? The one that attacked me? She's at the very table with us right now." "I did not 'attack' you," You furrow your brows, unable to fake a smile any longer. "You absolutely did," He says, leaning forward so that his face is only inches from yours, "I have witnesses to prove it-" "That is enough," Mr.Jeon snaps, causing for Jungkook to abruptly stop talking. "Sit your ass down, right now." Jungkook quickly takes the empty place next to you and remains silent. Your heart is racing in your chest and you feel like a child who knows they're about to get their ass handed to them. "Y/n," Mrs.Jeon says gently, "Could you please explain to us what happened?" "But Mom-" "Jungkook. Unless you want to be walking yourself to the bus stop after this dinner and also for the rest of the year, I suggest you keep your mouth closed." Mr.Jeon's demeanor has completely changed from the jolly dad-type you'd met earlier. "Go ahead, Y/n." You clear your throat, "I'm sorry for causing such a commotion on such an important day. It truly wasn't my intention. You see, I had just landed in Seoul and, while I was looking around, one of... his friends," You're not quite sure how to even address Jungkook, "had carelessly shoved me- I almost fell forward completely. When I turned around to try to address the situation, your son had cut in and was very rude to me. Everyone in his group was egging him on the more rude he got. He slapped two hundred dollars into my hand and then I..." You don't even want to say the rest. You can practically hear the marriage contract getting shredded to pieces in your very presence. "You...?" Mr and Mrs.Jeon stare at you anxiously. "She slapped the shit out of me," Jungkook finishes.

For a few moments, there's only silence. You want for the Earth to open up beneath you and just swallow you whole. Your dad is gonna kill you. Y/n, the dead woman walking. And then...laughter. Both Mr. and Mrs.Jeon are dying of laughter. You glance at Jungkook who seems equally as confused as you. "How is this funny?" He asks, leaning forward and banging once on the table. "So you- you slapped him? In front of all of his friends?" Mrs.Jeon asks between laughs. "Please tell me you threw the money back at him!" Mr.Jeon adds. "The money was still in her hand..." Jungkook mutters, which only causes for them to continue. "Oh son, I think you've finally met your match!"Mr.Jeon says, desperately trying to catch his breath. You're still trying to figure out what the hell is even happening. "I- I'm not quite sure how to react to...any of this, but I would like to apologize to you," You turn to Jungkook and bite your bottom lip, "I shouldn't have been so quick to violence. I don't know what took over me." He rolls his eyes, shaking his head and staring off into another direction, intent on ignoring you. "Oh don't apologize," Mr.Jeon says, "We know our Jungkook very well, and we know you wouldn't have done this if you didn't feel the need to." "I suppose so...but I really am sorry. I- I think maybe I should go back to the hotel and let you guys have a moment to talk," You say, looking down at your empty plate and trying to ignore your stomach, which is currently threatening to eat you alive. "Oh- alright. Well, we can always meet tomorrow for evening tea. I'll send a car to come get you?" Mrs.Jeon asks, her sweet expression putting you at ease. You nod, "Absolutely." You stand up and grab your purse, "Oh, before I forget. I got you all gifts," You pick the gift bag up off the floor and one by one, take out the nicely wrapped boxes and hand them to each person; Jungkook takes the gift from you, his expression slowly fading into mild interest and even surprise at the very undeserved gift box. "Thank you," He says, bowing slightly. "Of course- I'm sorry again, everyone." "Don't worry about it, dear. Have a safe drive to the hotel. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything at all," Mr.Jeon says before reaching under the table to grab something. He brings up a big manila envelope and hands it to you. You bow to everyone and then grab your things to go.

When you get back out onto the street outside of the restaurant, you let out a deep sigh of relief and thank God that's over- at least for tonight. Tomorrow will take care of itself. You take your phone out of your bag, hoping to see a missed call or two from your dad, though you're met with only a million texts from your very concerned (and nosy) mom. You close your eyes and take a deep breath and not even a minute later, the car pulls up to take you back to your hotel. At least you'll get to retreat to the comfort of a five star hotel- a luxury you very rarely treat yourself to. You do have a lot of money to spend, but your parents have always been very frugal and have taught you the value of the hard-earned dollar. If it weren't because the Jeons insisted on you staying in one of their hotels, you'd be headed to whatever cheap hotel had the best rate.

As you get in the car, your phone buzzes in your hand. You look down to see it's a message from Mr.Jeon.

𝙼𝚛.𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗: 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎. 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕.

You really need to get ahold of your dad.

"They laughed?" "THEY LAUGHED," You shake your head, pouring coffee from the hotel coffeemaker into a pretty white mug. "Hey, at least you know he won't be a momma's boy," B/f/n laughs. After the day you've had, you'd give anything to be sleeping over house and sipping wine together over this hot gossip, but you suppose facetime will have to do for now. "I honestly don't even know about this anymore. I mean, if the incident at the airport was only our first time meeting, who's to say we won't absolutely kill each other once we're shoved together for 24 hours a day? Maybe this is like...an omen or something." "Or maybe," Her expression shows a tinge of excitement, "this could be the start of a romantic enemies to lovers romance?" You roll your eyes, "Be serious, right now. Please. I'm losing my mind here." "I am being serious! I mean think about it- two fiery personalities under one roof, you're beautiful, he's beautiful-" "How do you know he's beautiful?" You furrow your brows. "Aha! So you think he's beautiful?" She asks, mischief coating her tone like honey for bees. "I-I didn't say that... I mean, he is but that's completely besides the point," You blush. "Ugh, I'm honestly jealous of you." "Don't be. Life isn't some cheesy K-drama, you know." "Oh but it is," She sighs dreamily, "And you're the main character, honey." "Whatever...hey, I'm gonna have to let you go. I gotta try to call my dad again so he can help me look over this contract." "Alrighty- call me in the morning so I can approve your outfit for high tea." "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

You sit at the desk in your room, your eyes glued to the manila envelope; you don't even want to open it. For as long as your parents have been preparing you for this day, you feel so unsure. On paper, an arranged marriage is easy. You fulfill the duty expected of you, make sure your end of the bargain is being held up and reap the benefits: a stable life, steady income... "The Jeon empire." You echo the words from Mr.Jeon's text. It's crazy how he can so easily make his son's engagement sound like a business email. You guess that's how he and your dad get on so well. You take your phone out of your pocket and punch in your dad's number, though you're much less hopeful about actually being able to reach him. As usual, the phone rings and rings- though as you're about to just give up, you hear the click of it answering, followed by your dad's sleepy voice, "Hey honey," He says. You let out a sigh of relief; your dad's voice has always been able to soothe you almost instantly. "Dad- I've been trying to reach you all day." "I know, Sweetie- It's just been a hectic day. I'm sorry about that." "It's okay, dad." "How was your day? How'd the first meet go?" You look down, unsure about whether or not to be honest, though you quickly decide to just bite the bullet. You swallow hard before taking a deep breath, "Well, funny story- You see, I'd just landed at the airport and there was this group of people just huddled around Jungkook, though of course, I didn't know in that moment that it was Jungkook-" You're interrupted by loud snoring at the other end of the line, to which your entire face drops, "Gee, thanks for the support Dad. By the way, I slapped the shit out of my soon-to-be-fiance and now, I'm not even sure if there'll be an engagement. Isn't that great for us?" No response. He really fell asleep in the middle of you crisis. You put your face in your hand, completely giving up, "Sweet dreams, dad."

You're much too mentally crowded to try to look over the contract right now, so instead, you resort to doing what you do best: internet stalking. You're not sure why you hadn't thought of it before- looking Jungkook up on socials. You type in his name and, lo and behold, there he is. His completely public account stares you square in the face, along with his hefty following of 23,000+ followers. Your eyes widen in surprise. Who knew such an unlikeable person could be so popular? You look at the various pictures he's uploaded, scoffing at most of them. Selfies as far as the eye can see, mixed in with some of his hand gripping the steering wheel to whatever luxury car he's driving on any given day, some of hangouts with friends (many of which you remember from the airport). The comments are a mix of bros complimenting his physique and various possessions, as well as many women saying some of the most vile and thirsty shit you've ever seen- and you're almost certain he laps it all up like a thirsty dog.

One picture catches your eye in particular from a little over two years ago; he's sitting on a dock at what looks like a lake. He's in his swimming trunks, giving what looks like the only genuine smile on his entire profile- a pretty girl is sat next to him, leaning on him with an equally wide smile. Her arm hangs around his neck, pulling him close. He has a girlfriend...? You furrow your brows and chew your bottom lip; you can't be expected to follow through with this contract with someone who's in an active relationship- arranged marriage or not, you're not going to be sharing your husband. "She's tagged..." You mumble, noticing the symbol in the corner of the picture. You click on it, and it leads you to her profile; a wapping 50k followers. Every picture is perfectly angled and coordinated for the perfectly aestheticized feed. She's a model, it looks like. You've always been a fairly confident woman, but even you know there's no competing. "Lisa..." Even her name is simple and cute.

You look at the time. 11:00PM. "I should go to bed..." You mutter, though you don't feel tired at all. You shut your computer and just sit there for a moment; your mind races with so many different thoughts and feelings. Can you really go through with this? Do you even really have a choice? You're stuck between a rock and a hard place here, and the time difference between South Korea and home is making you feel extra lonely right about now...

Your eyes flutter open, triggered by the stream of light that's shining directly onto your face from the open window right next to you. You groan, turning your head in the other direction, though you quickly realize you're still sitting at the desk. "What the hell," Your head shoots straight up, and you wipe the drool off of your face. You wince at the immediate soreness in your back. Slowly, you scoot the chair out from under the desk to let yourself out and make your way over to the night stand where you'd left your phone charging last night. Six missed calls (all from your mom, of course), and one text from Mrs.Jeon. You sigh, swiping on the misseds call and bringing the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" You say into the phone when it finally connects you. "YOU SLAPPED THE BOY!?" Your mom's voice practically bursts your eardrum. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. "HOW COULD YOU EMBARRASS US LIKE THIS!? YOU BETTER HOPE YOUR FATHER DOESN'T FIND OUT-" "Mom." "- AND YOU BETTER HOPE THEY DON'T RESCIND THEIR OFFER-" "Mom." "-I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS-" "MOM!" You snap, your anger getting the best of you. Silence. "Mom- I'm sorry. Yesterday was a really shitty day and I didn't sleep well." "Is that my fault?" She asks. You purse your lips. Kinda. "Can you just listen, mom? I promise I had a good reason." "Well, go on. What reason could you possibly have had for slapping this nice young boy?" Your eye twitches at her assumption of his character. "Mom, the guy is a complete asshole." "Mind your language, Y/n. Men don't like women with potty mouths." "You literally curse like a sailor." "Yes, but I'm married." You roll your eyes, "Mom, one of his friends shoved me at the airport and instead of helping me, he was a complete jerk, publicly humiliated me and then tried to pay me off with a measly little two hundred bucks. Everyone was watching and laughing at me." "So, you slapped him because his friend shoved you?" Her tone is incredulous and mocking. You just can't win with your parents. Not at all. All your life, they've been this way. Everyone gets to say, do, and feel whatever they want and you just have to keep your head down and take it. That's how they made it to where they are in life, and that's how they've raised you to be. That's why you're in this predicament in the first place: endure this fake ass marriage to get to stability and wealth, even if it's to a complete douche bag with no ounce of basic human decency. "Mom, I'll just call you later." "Yeah, you will call me later, and you better fix this. We've worked too hard to get your to this point and we will not let your irresponsibility screw it up for all of us." All of us, she says. All of us? Without another word, you hang up the call, and, as you always do- you gather yourself and get ready for the long and arduous day ahead of you.

You bite your lip as you watch the floors numbers on the elevator go higher and higher. Mrs.Jeon's text from this morning was a reminder to dress "smart casual" for high tea, and also her asking if you're okay with cucumber sandwiches. You thought for sure you'd have enough time to mentally prepare, but it's like the hours just flew by and you barely got anything done. The elevator dings, indicating you've reached your designated floor. "Just breathe..." You say to yourself, trying to calm your nerves. Maybe you should've had a shot of something before coming up, just to take the edge off. High tea is being served on the rooftop of the hotel you're staying at, and it is quite beautiful. Floor to ceiling windows wrap around almost the entire room, with a glass door leading to the balcony that would overlook the entire city. There are lots of tables around the room, though the only one actually set is at the opposite end from the elevator. "Y/n," Mrs.Jeon greets you, standing from her seat to receive you at the table. You bow as low as you can, "Mrs.Jeon, how are you?" "I'm doing just fine, thank you. Please have a seat," She says, motioning to the chair across her at the small table. You're delighted at the sight of the tiered stand with various different pastries and snacks, decorated nicely fresh flowers. "Wow, it's really beautiful," You say. "Thank you- our hotel gets fresh flowers every day from the nursery down the block. We like to support local businesses." "Well, that's generous of you." A waiter comes with a tea pot in hand, pouring some into the pretty tea cup in front of you on a small saucer. "Thank you," You say, bowing slightly. He pours some into Mrs.Jeon's cup as well, and gives a bow before leaving. Everyone's much more respectful here in Korea. Well, not everyone...

"I hope you don't mind, I told your mom about what happened between you and Jungkook yesterday," She chuckles, "I hope I didn't get you in too much trouble." You smile, thinking back to this morning's call, "Oh no, don't worry." "Truthfully, my husband and I were pleasantly surprised at how fiercely you stood your ground with him." "Oh no, I'm-I'm truly embarrassed." That's not a total lie, either; after your 'internet research' last night, you kept replaying the entire thing in your head over and over and thinking you should've just talked away. "Don't be," She takes the cream and pours a bit in her cup before offering to pour for you, "We know our son can be...a bit of an asshole." Your eyes widen at her colorful language. You almost want to ask her to repeat herself so you can record it and send it to your mom as vindication. "Oh, I don't know him very well..." And yet, you agree with her. "I hope you know you didn't ruin anything. My husband and I feel very strongly, even more so now, that you're the perfect fit fr our family." Your heartbeat picks up in your chest; you were sure you blew your chance to bits, but here she is, offering it all on a silver platter for you. "Wow, thank you. I was worried I'd messed it all up." "Of course not. I'm sure I worried your mom as well, didn't I?" You laugh nervously, "Just a bit." "I'm sure she chewed you out after our call. I'll be sure to call her again after this to ease her mind." "Thank you, that would mean a lot." "Sure. Now, after this, I want you to head straight to your suite and look over those papers! We sent a copy to your parents as well so everyone's on the same page." "Yes, of course."

The rest of the time was spent trading stories and memories of your respective childhoods, even some memories of when you and Jungkook were really little, when you'd play outside for hours and hours. Even then, you'd boss him around and he'd be after you like a puppy. If only things could be that easy again... Though, you've always been a big believer in the idea that anything worth having is also worth fighting for.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the second installment! I know it was a long one but I'm having such a fun time writing it. Arranged marriage plots with an enemies/lovers trope is like my personal brand of h*roine (Twilight references for the win). As always, a comment/like is absolutely always encouraging and veyr much appreciated. Plz give me your validation UwU <3

#bts #jungkook #suga #jin #namjoon #bts imagine #jhope #jimin #angst #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook x reader

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audioroleplayconfessions · 10 months

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https://www.tumblr.com/audioroleplayconfessions/733894052580327424/i-cant-get-into-other-audio-roleplays-because-the

Answering the questions!

Thank you Admin! ♪⁠ ⁠\⁠(⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠\⁠ ⁠)

I like a heathly combination of fluff and plot though I don't mind either on their own. I prefer cinematic stories with more parts!

Slow burn is definitely a favorite of mine! I like all genres but I do have a preference for fantasy storylines.

I absolutely avoid the fan made y/n-esque audio rp with already existing characters i.e Midoriya, Todoroki, Bakugou, no hate to the ones who like or make those, props to the voice impressions. I find it amazing they could imitate the voices but they just aren't for me though. Original characters are much more my thing.

Otherwise I'm fine with regards to everything else!

So far I only like GBA, Redacted and Sundew. I prefer soft, gentle mid-ranged to deeper voices. I like deep voices but I don't think I'd like a voice as deep as the mariana trench lol. Higher pitched voices also aren't my thing and if it's too whispery then it won't do it for me as well.

I'm pretty picky ain't I? Apologies if this is inconvenient, I have no one to ask for recommendations and I'm particularly new to the community (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

Warmest regards, much love, numerous thanks and salutations,

Oh, I have some recommendations for you! My opinions are a bit biased here (I have a very strong preference for plot-heavy audios over fluff) but it looks like a lot of my favorites suit your tastes. I dislike fanfiction stuff too, especially MHA stuff and I also prefer gentle voice ranges that aren't too high or too low.

I'll give you a few recommendations.

#1: Escaped Audios! He's the very best VA at making you feel like you are living in a movie. All of his stories are heartfelt and exciting, most have slow-burn romances. Most of his characters have a gentle, mid-range voice that isn't too high or too deep (though he as a couple deeper voiced characters). I like his style of acting because he sounds very sincere and "real" when he talks. My two favorite playlists from him are Matador Gothic (his dramatic vampire slayer adventure) and The New Jersey Rats (a mafia-themed Romantic comedy).

I've followed him since Matador Gothic came out a little over a year ago but he's only recently started to gain hype after being super under-rated for a long time. If you like GBA's style of story telling you'll probably like him too. The only downside you might experience is that his stories usually don't leave a lot of room for fluff, so there are no cuddle audios or sleep aids etc on his channel. That said he's my current favorite, is incredibly creative and original, and he's amazing at supercharging my brain with serotonin.

#2: Obsidian Lantern. He has some of the most immersive sound production of any VA I've ever seen. Some of his earlier stuff is a little weird and clumsy but once he catches his footing he's great. His voice is very gentle and comforting to me, and he'll even speak a little Spanish sometimes.

His Gator Boys series is great and actually ties in with the lore of a few other VA's universes! I also really like his Merfolk series. He also plays around with common tropes while putting his own unique spin on them and I really like that too. He also makes all of his own art, and he not only draws thumbnails but actually makes illustrations of the scenes in his audios which is super cool. Overall really great, I think you'd like him.

#3. ZSaku VA. His playlists start out a little slow but over time his style evolved to be more cinematic. I really like his Vampire series (the Xanthus playlist) and his two interconnected crime series (The Elias and Issac playlists). They're good from the outset and just get better. Lately he's been making higher-stakes stories with more collabs and I love that. He's also collabed with a bunch of the other people I mentioned, which I love to see.

He has a nice balance between fluff and story-telling, and lots of his plots/characters connect to one another. If you like Redacted Audio you'll probably like ZSaku. The only downside is that he takes a long time in between episodes of each series, and works on multiple series at the same time, so if you really get into one playlist you might end up feeling a bit impatient.

#4: YuuriVoice. He's got a rotating cast of characters and he's one of my long-time comfort channels. He has ongoing plots throughout all of his series, but his stuff is mostly character-based. It's worth listening to everything and getting attached to his characters, as their development gets better and more complex over time.

He can do a pretty broad range of voices too, and they all feel unique and fresh. He has done some MHA/fanfic type audios before in the past but over time he transitioned to focusing on his own original characters and I love all of them.

#5: Shining Armor ASMR. I like him more as a comfort/fun/fluff channel. A great channel for listening to little bite sized audios with fun character concepts and lower stakes. I also like his voice and his accent, and it's fun seeing him do different voices within his accent. Definitely more on the fluff side but I think you'd appreciate him!

That's about it! There are more channels I like but based on your tastes I think you would like those channels. Also, honorable mention to Desmond ASMR. I love him but he's been on hiatus for like a year now!

Feel free to leave your own recommendations/cosigns/etc in the comments and reblogs.

Love, Ringmaster.

#audio roleplay #boyfriend asmr #redacted audio #yuurivoice #desmond asmr #zsakuva #escaped audios #good boy audios #asmr roleplay #recommendations #Shining Armor ASMR #Obsidian Lantern #ZSaku VA

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tideswept · 5 months

Text

⛵️ Five Fandoms, Five Ships ⛵

Get to know the blogger, via five different ships from five different fandoms!

I was tagged by @dark--whisperings and @kingdomvel! (and possibly someone else, sorry if I missed you!)

[I will also not be including Obikin because C'MON]

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:

Sarah Williams/Jareth (Labyrinth)

One of these days I'm going to disappear. Nobody will know where I went. Seasons will pass. My name will become a dusty thought you think of occasionally, but not often.

THEN ONE DAY, I WILL RETURN. I'll be emaciated and weak. I'll be dragging a 500,000 word fanfic (in a USB, I'm not a monster) and I will press it into your hand, and I will say, "It was... my seven year old self... she finally broke lose.... held me prisoner.... forced me to write this... " and then I will close my eyes.

You'll think I'm dead. Turns out I'm just sleeping and incredibly dramatic about it. And it'll be the most indulgent fic in the world, filled with glitter EVERYWHERE.

2. Dom Toretto/Brian O'Connor (Fast & Furious)

SOON. I WILL WRITE THIS SOON, I SWEAR TO GOD. It needs to be soon. I'm ready. My heart has healed from the loss of Paul.

tbh I'm always a bit shocked at how this series blew up. I'm not mad, though. It got me more movies with them getting to be them.

3. Harry Hart/Eggsy Unwin (Kingsman)

My beloved. Let me cradle you close and weep over what that terrible sequel did. I really wish I'd been here when the fandom for it was alive--alas, I am left to wander through the great architecture that was left behind, peer into the empty homes, and listen to the echoes of a thousand voices laughing, crying, chatting.

4. Wriothesley/Neuvilette (Genshin Impact)

I really didn't expect to like these two together as much as I ended up. But dang it, they're so funny together. Wriothesley is one of the people who most gets Neuvilette... and yet he's still clearly baffled by him constantly, in the most "oh God, you're so weird and silly and so dead serious about it" kind of way.

5. Emet-Selch/Azem(/Hythlodaeus) (Final Fantasy XIV)

I can't really say anything about this ship that wouldn't be spoiler-y as all get out, (even including a gif would be iffy!) so all I'll say is... my god, the pain. The tragedy. The ever-lasting flame of hope, the desperation, the endless, endless loneliness and longing.

It won't be forgotten.

TAGGING @ragnarlothcat @sky-kenobye @olivejuice96 @dream-about-dancing @usakostar

#berry.txt #genshin impact #ffxiv #kingsman #f&f #future writing plans: the roadmap #labyrinth

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dittomander · 4 months

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Hi Ditto! Me and my friend are currently drafting EOA stories to write together. I want to be creative and come up with my own fun (and angsty) magical challenges for the protagonists to face. But I am worried that many of the ideas that I have either don’t fit into EOA magic system, or are influenced by the magic systems of other fairytale worlds, which have their own unique magic systems/rules that are different than EOA. How can I make sure that my ideas fit within the EOA magic system?

Without knowing any of the specifics of what you're looking to include, it's hard to tailor my advice, but in general, you probably don't have to worry too much about fitting with the established system. EoA plays pretty fast and loose with its magic, especially in season 3, and will add extra rules and contradictions as needed to move the story the way it needs to be moved.

(As an example, akatok is permanent after sunrise until they need Fiero running around again and they give Mateo a way to reverse it, and Elena's scepter powers drain her energy until she falls into Takaína, and then they don't drain her anymore until she breaks her arm, and magic requires careful training and use of a wand to be effective, oh except for all those times they had Naomi cast spells without any of the above, and—well. You get the picture. Don't even get me started on all the contradictions in the malvago system. Or do, I guess.)

That said, new rules as the plot demands works well enough for a Disney Jr. show—young kids are pretty notoriously good at 'making things up as they go along', and probably aren't too concerned about those moments of inconsistency—but I suspect your target audience is quite a bit older than the show's and slightly more likely to notice when things just aren't jiving. With that in mind, I'd argue that fitting with the established EoA magic system is less about stressing over what is or isn't consistent with the existing lore and more about making sure your new stuff makes sense when compared with itself.

For that, my recommendation would be the following three principles:

1. Keep it Simple

The more complicated you make a magic system, the more room there is to poke holes in it. Think of a machine—the more parts there are to maintain, the more potential points of failure it has, and the more time and effort you have to put into doing that maintenance.

EoA doesn't actually explain a whole lot about how magic "works". Wands and scepters get their power from crystals because certain crystals are just magical; certain creatures have magic powers because they just do; magic is present because it just is. People are generally willing to suspend disbelief for magic—you expect it to exist in a fantasy story, and so you're willing to accept the answer "because it's magic" to any questions about its base mechanics.

But the more often someone finds themselves asking "why?", the less satisfying that answer gets. An easy solution to this is to just have fewer things that require asking about. Sure, EoA has a lot of magical creatures and entities, but they all have very simple, discrete lists of powers. Noblins can turn into dogs, blow gusts of wind, and turn things into gold because That's How Noblins Work, but that's the extent of their list. Marimonda can control plants because She's Marimonda, but plants are pretty much her one thing. Even characters like Elena and Mateo, who regularly learn new spells over the course of the show, have fairly simple systems for doing so: they need the spell to cast and something to cast with, they're limited to the spells they know, and each spell has a singular effect.

Little of EoA's magic is explained, but it's made easy to keep track of. It's hard to complain about llévaluq making things float when like. It's just a levitation spell. Zuzo can do spirit stuff because, well. He's a spirit. He's allowed to do some spirit-y stuff. And anyone questioning the presence of magic in a fantasy series is probably not looking at it in good faith.

(If you'd like more examples of the kind of magic EoA already has, I have a detailed list of all magical effects and entities in the show as my pinned post.)

Notably, it's when EoA actually tries to explain things that problems start arising. I was fully prepared to accept the simple explanation of "malvagos are just evil wizards" that the show gave us in "Spellbound", except then they tried adding rules governing how malvagos are made and what makes them different from regular wizards and well then I had some questions! (What do you mean only dark magic can reverse dark magic—Mateo's been doing that since season 1! What even is "dark magic" in this context—there's never been a functional difference in magic "types" or "elements" before!! What—ok no I'm not gonna repeat the whole essay where I broke all that down. I already linked it in the first part of this post.)

Basically, I'd advise that when in doubt, under-explain before you over-explain, and keep magical effects straightforward and easy to remember. Doing so reduces the chances of writing yourself into a plot hole, and will also help you to...

2. Keep it Consistent

People can suspend disbelief for the existence of magic because it's magic, but that doesn't mean that believability can stretch forever. In general, once you establish a rule for your magic system, you're going to want to stick to it, as failing to do so is going to cause confusion and get people asking "why?" again.

Consider the Noblins from above. Sure, they can turn things to gold because they just can—plausible enough. But that plausibility would decrease if they suddenly started turning things into chocolate one episode instead. Why the sudden difference? Did something cause that? Is this something they could always do and they just only brought it up now? Questions upon questions—ones that can expose the bones of the story. Oh, of course the Noblins suddenly revealed they have the chocolate touch when the Great Avaloran Chocolate Contest comes to town, isn't that convenient. Stuff like that can make it obvious when the rules are changing not because the author found creative ways to work with the magic system they've built, but simply because they couldn't figure out how to get the magic to work for their plot otherwise.

Magic can do whatever you want because it's magic, but that doesn't always mean it should. Put too much strain on a reader's suspension of disbelief, and "because it's magic" starts to sound an awful lot like "because I said so."

And no one likes being told "because I said so."

Now, this doesn't mean there can't be any deviation in how a certain type of magic works. As Mateo gets better at casting llévaluq, the size and amount of stuff he can be levitating at once increases. But llévaluq never suddenly stops being a levitation spell. Elena learns new scepter spells at convenient times, but they're all related to the scepter's core function of manipulating light. And it could be totally plausible that a particularly skilled Noblin could control how much of an object they turned to gold—the rule of "Noblins turn things to gold" is not violated, and it allows more variation in Noblin-related plots.

And then, of course, there are exceptions to rules. The exceptions are great ways to highlight the exceptional or adjust the stakes of a story beat, but throwing them in arbitrarily can strain believability, and overusing them can render the rule they except moot. And generally, an exception expects an explanation, and as discussed, more explanations can lead to more issues.

As an example, an established rule in EoA's system is that wizards need wands in order to cast. But there are multiple points in the show where we see a brief display of wandless magic from wizards like Zopilote or Alacazar, who are noted to be especially powerful wizards. Their violation of the rule helps inform us of their exceptional skill. The exception makes far less sense when we see Naomi doing magic without a wand, because we know she has no training as a wizard—it feels like something thrown in because the writers couldn't come up with a better way to use her knowledge of Maruvian rather than a sensible addition to the magic system.

As another example, consider how EoA handles permanence. Our first introduction to the idea of a permanent spell is akatok, but then Mateo learns how to reverse it. Okay, that's fine—he's grown more skilled since the start of the show and it's acceptable that he'd find a way around the earlier established rule. Same sort of thing when El Guapo is introduced—we're told no one's figured out how to reverse his curse, implying at least a degree of permanence, and then Mateo gets around that one, too. And then Cahu's magic is framed as permanent, only for Elena to undo it at the end of "Coronation Day."

The idea of a magical effect that's arbitrarily permanent because it's magic is fine, as is the idea of finding an exception to the permanence rule. But what's happened here is a pattern—a rule is introduced that some effects are permanent, and then that rule is repeatedly broken. So... what's the value of the rule, then? If the rule is going to be broken with such regularity, then why should an audience believe it still holds true in situations where an exception isn't introduced, for example, when we're told that the sirena transformation is permanent? After a time, "permanent effects can be reversed by the right magic" becomes the new rule, and to insist that "no really, this one actually is permanent, we really mean it this time!!!" just sounds like an artificial way to raise the tension. Which brings me to...

3. Keep an Eye on Your Stakes

There's a delicate balance to strike with a story's stakes, where they should be kept high enough to keep things interesting, but not be so high that overcoming them requires a deus ex machina. Magic can easily be a nasty wrench in a writer's plans in that regard. You generally don't want magic to trivialize a problem, which will generally require adding some rules to it, but you also don't want those rules to feel hamfisted or contrived. Even if they only exist to place a convenient limit on the magic, they shouldn't feel like that's the case.

Healing magic is kind of the classic example. If someone has a spell that's established to instantly and reliably heal any injury, no matter how severe, then a scene of said spellcaster lamenting that they just don't know how to help their injured and dying friend just feels kinda silly. If they cast the spell right away, then any tension brought by the injury deflates, and if they don't cast... why? They have a solution to the problem, so why aren't they using it? Creating more rules governing how the healing spell works can avoid this, but they should be straightforward and applied consistently, so that they don't feel like they were added solely for the sake of making that one scene more dramatic.

I.e., if the spell requires some ultra-rare reagent in order to cast, then ok—it's understandable why they may be unable to cast at the drop of a hat. But if we never see that rule enforced anywhere else, or at least not to any meaningful consequence, the sudden emphasis on it can feel forced. Or if this mega-healing spell isn't used anywhere else and seems to only exist to make sure that character doesn't die... then maybe that scene should be revised so the injury is less severe, and the healing spell should be removed entirely.

For an example from the show, llévaluq could have trivialized the climax of "Sister of Invention," so they had to make sure Mateo couldn't use it. Having him simply decide not to cast wasn't an option, because it's the obvious answer, and not trying it makes it look like he isn't actually that concerned about rescuing Elena (and if the characters don't care about the stakes, why should the audience?). And adding a random, arbitrary rule like "oh, but llévaluq doesn't work in volcanoes, specifically" would have felt cheap, and raised questions about why his other spells were working fine. So instead, they went with the simple solution—they had the established rule that Mateo needs a tamborita to cast, so they broke his tamborita. Easy.

...And that cycles us back around to "keep it simple."

So to wrap up...

I genuinely hope this helps, at least somewhat. I've seen concerns floating around the fandom about working within the bounds of the EoA magic system, and personally, I don't really think those boundaries are all that strict. It's more a matter of understanding the elements you want to introduce than the elements that are already there.

If there are any specific aspects of the established magic system you'd like me to deep-dive into, a la the malvago essay, I'd be more than happy to. I'm also willing to help if you have specific concerns about whether your own ideas mesh, but do remember that I am not the sole arbiter of what makes a good magic system, and you need neither my approval nor permission (nor anyone else's, for that matter) to write what you want.

I wish you and your friend the best with your stories!

#elena of avalor #eoa #worldbuilding #eoa spellbook project #writing stuff #ditto answers #thank you so much for the ask and for your patience

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