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˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .
halloween
summary: paige wants to celebrate halloween but it’s your biggest fear and she doesn’t know
content warnings: none!
request by: @melpthatsme (hope this is ok) 🫶
“I’d rather just stay in, Paige. We could carve pumpkins and make hot chocolate.” You try to convince your girlfriend to spend a cosy night in with you but she’s adamant on going out.
“But I bought us tickets to Fright Fest, some of the teams going too, it will be a good night. We can stay home any time but it’s halloween baby, let’s have fun.” She says handing you the red, plastic devil horns she had picked up for you from Target. She had a Ghostface mask, rested on the top of her head and you really hoped she never pulled it down.
“I don’t think it will be that fun.” You grumble, placing the horns on your head and fixing them in the mirror in front of you.
“Do you not like Halloween or something?” Paige asks coming behind you, her slender arms looping around your waist. Her standing at a strong 6’0 and you at just 5’2, you loved the way you looked wrapped in her embrace, you loved the way it felt too, safe and comforting like she could protect you from everything bad in the world.
“Not really…” You trail off, starting to feel bad because you wanted to spend tonight with Paige but the thought of it genuinely terrified you.
“But everyone says this mask is so sexy, don’t you agree?” She asks, pulling the mask down so her face is completely covered and your heart drops as she dips her head closer to your ear, “What’s your favourite scary movie?” She quotes Scream, her voice low and husky and you shiver and the feeling of her breath on your neck.
“Paige please…don’t do that.” You beg, eyes refusing to look at your reflection and slipping out of her grasp.
“Wait- oh baby, are you scared?” She asks, her voice muffled from the plastic covering her mouth.
“Can you just take that off.” You say still unable to look at your masked girlfriend and she obeys, pushing the mask back on top of her head, revealing her perfectly structured face.
“For real, are you actually scared?” She asks again pulling you back to your previous position in front of her, but this time you’re facing each other.
“No, I’m not scared Paige. I’m petrified. It’s a full on phobia, masks, clowns, haunted houses, anything spooky.” You finally admit, slightly embarrassed at such a childish fear.
“Oh, Y/N, I really didn’t know.” She says hugging you to her chest.
“It’s my brothers fault,” You explain, “He used to force me to watch scary movies and then he’d sneak into my room in the middle of the night to scare me.”
“Your brothers a jerk.” Paige responds, pushing you away from her so she can look into your eyes, “You know you’re safe with me right? I’d never let anything happen to you.” She tells, holding your face in her hands.
“I know.” You nod, “I’m just being a baby.”
“My baby though and I’ll protect you.” She coos, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead and your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of her lips.
After Paiges kind words of encouragement, you finally agree to go to Fright Fest, clad in your devil horns and red dress, your hand safely interlocked with Paiges, you walk towards the fest that was taking place in a huge field.
It was a dark and misty night which only added to the eerie vibes and the inhuman sounds that played out over the speakers made your hairs stand on end.
As you waited in line for the haunted house, you couldn’t help the anxiety that overwhelmed you, your hand was clammy in Paiges so you let go to wipe it on your dress.
“You OK, my love?” Paige questions, her hand coming to rest on your back.
“Uh huh.” You nod, trying your best to not think about what was going on around you.
Paiges teammates, Azzi and Caroline were in front of you, KK and Ice behind you and they all cheered as your group was guided to the entrance of the house. There was a sign above the opening that read Do Not Enter in red, dripping paint made to look like blood and you gulped at the sight of it. Excited screams erupted from inside the house, people were having fun but this was your idea of hell.
Your hand finds Paiges as you begin the walk around and for the first few seconds you keep your eyes screwed shut in fear, trusting your girlfriend will guide you.
You tell yourself to be brave and open your eyes and when you do, you’re met with flashing lights and mist, cobwebs are dangling from the ceiling and warped mirrors on the walls reflect the sinister portraits opposite, ripped sheets and drapes cover the windows and the floor creaks with every step you take and you cringe at the sound.
Azzi and Caroline walk around a corner going out if sight and you feel exposed without them standing in front of you so you nuzzle yourself closer into Paige.
As you turn the corner, expecting to see the girls, you’re met with two dark figures at either side of the hallway, they’re scarily still and in the darkness of the house, you can’t make out a single feature on their faces. You freeze, not wanting to proceed but Paige wraps an arm around and pulls you closer to her, “I’m here. It’s OK.” She comforts and leads you down the hall, as you pass the figures, one reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder and you let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead.
You feel Paige laugh from beside and you nudge her with your elbow, “This is not funny.” You whisper shout and decide it’s best if you do keep your eyes closed for the remainder of your time in the haunted house.
“Was that so bad?” KK asks once you’re all safe at the exit and your heart rate had steadied.
“Yes actually, I hated it. Definitely having nightmares tonight.” You tell the group and they laugh but you’re being serious.
“Let’s get churros!” Caroline suggests and you nod in agreement, at least that’s something you’ll enjoy tonight.
“Or are they too scary, Y/N?” Ice jokes in a creepy voice from behind you.
“Y’all leave my girl alone, quit the teasing.” Paige defends you and Ice mummbles an apology.
While you’re in line at the churros stand, Paige plays with strands of your hand, twirling them around her fingers and letting them fall again, “Will you really have nightmares tonight?” She asks softly.
“Yeah probably.” You respond biting your lip in anticipation of your sleepless night.
“Stay with me.” She says gently, her hands still fiddling with your hair.
“God this is so embarrassing.” You mutter.
“It’s not embarrassing, it’s cute actually and my duty as your girlfriend is to make you feel safe and protected, stay with me tonight so I can do that.” Paige requested and you nod in agreement, “OK, I’ll stay but if I wake you up screaming, it’s your fault for bringing me here.” You joke and she smiles, her hands falling to your hips, guiding you closer to her, “Don’t worry about it, besides it wouldn’t be the first time you were screaming in my bed, would it?” She whispered into your ear and you giggled, pushing her away in jest.
“Relax, we’re in public.”
“And you’re in a tight red dress and devil horns, I can’t help myself.”
˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .
a/n: all im saying is paige dressed as ghostface would make me scream, minus the s 🙂↕️ happy halloween! 💋
#paige bueckers#wlw#lgbtq#oneshot#paige x reader#uconn wbb#wcbb#blurb#paige bueckers imagine#fanfic#lesbian
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Thanksgiving
im australian.. i have 0 clue how thanksgiving works.. enjoy whatever this is
Thanksgiving with the New Jersey Devils was supposed to be a laid-back gathering—a few players, some food, and a chance to unwind mid-season. Of course, with Jack Hughes, Luke Hughes, Nico Hischier, and Dawson Mercer involved, it’s anything but peaceful. You knew chaos was inevitable the second Jack declared that he would “personally oversee” cooking the turkey.
“This thing is still frozen,” Jack grumbles, staring at the 20-pound bird sitting in the sink.
“You were supposed to take it out yesterday,” Nico points out, already exasperated despite it being only 11 AM. He’s peeling potatoes like a man possessed, determined to keep everything on schedule. His dedication to holiday traditions is impressive—and mildly concerning.
“What do we do now?” Luke asks, poking the turkey like it might come to life. He’s wearing an apron that says Kiss the Cook, but you doubt it’s been used for anything other than looking ridiculous.
You roll your eyes. “We should’ve just ordered pizza.”
Jack gasps like you’ve committed treason. “Y/N, this is Thanksgiving. We need turkey.”
Somehow, Jack convinces Dawson to try thawing the turkey in the bathtub, which immediately turns into a disaster when Dawson slips on the bathroom floor and soaks himself—and half the room—in cold water.
“This isn’t working,” Dawson groans, standing in the doorway with his drenched werewolf pajama pants sticking to his legs. “Who thought putting it in the tub was a good idea?”
“You did,” Luke points out, deadpan.
Dawson glares at him. “Details.”
Meanwhile, Jack’s trying to “speed up the process” by blasting the hair dryer at the turkey. You pinch the bridge of your nose, already regretting every life choice that led you here.
Nico, ever the responsible one, finally steps in. “Everyone out of the kitchen. I’ll handle the turkey before we end up with food poisoning.”
“I was doing a good job!” Jack protests, holding the hair dryer like a weapon.
Nico doesn’t even blink. “You were about to electrocute yourself.”
Jack sulks, but retreats to the living room, dragging you along with him.
“Come on, Y/N. We’re banned from kitchen duty.” He plops onto the couch dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Nico’s no fun.”
“Nico just saved your life,” you remind him, taking a seat next to him. “Be grateful.”
Jack peeks out from under his arm, grinning. “I’m grateful for you.”
In the living room, Dawson finds the football game on TV, Luke brings out snacks (mostly chips and questionable dip), and Jack makes it his mission to steal the best spot on the couch—right next to you, of course.
“This is way better than cooking,” Luke declares, stretching his legs across the coffee table.
You raise an eyebrow. “You literally didn’t cook anything.”
“Exactly,” Luke says with a smug grin. “See? Way better.”
About an hour later, the smell of roasting turkey fills the apartment, and the chaos shifts to the dining table. Nico finally manages to pull everything together—turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, and a questionable green bean casserole that no one admits to making.
Jack grabs the carving knife, looking far too excited. “I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.”
Nico groans. “Please don’t hurt yourself—or anyone else.”
Jack winks. “No promises.”
He saws away at the turkey with way too much enthusiasm, sending chunks of meat flying in every direction. One lands in Dawson’s lap, and the room erupts into laughter.
“Food fight?” Dawson suggests, raising an eyebrow mischievously.
“No,” you, Nico, and Luke say in unison.
Jack pouts. “You guys are no fun.”
Dinner itself is a whirlwind of bad jokes, bickering over who gets the drumsticks, and Jack trying (and failing) to convince you that cranberry sauce counts as a vegetable.
Nico, being the unofficial dad of the group, makes everyone go around the table and say what they’re thankful for.
“I’m thankful for this team,” Luke says earnestly, making everyone “awww” in unison.
“I’m thankful for Y/N,” Jack says next, nudging you with his shoulder. “She’s the best little sister-slash-teammate ever.”
You grin. “Right back at you, Spider-Man.”
Dawson, not to be outdone, declares, “I’m thankful I didn’t drown in the bathtub today.”
Nico shakes his head but can’t help smiling. “I’m just thankful no one set the apartment on fire.”
As the night winds down, you all settle back into the living room, stuffed to the brim with turkey and pie. Jack is sprawled across the couch, half-asleep with his head resting on your shoulder. Luke and Dawson are locked in an intense battle over the TV remote, trying to find the perfect post-dinner movie.
Nico leans back in his chair, watching the chaos unfold with a small, satisfied smile.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Y/N,” he says quietly, catching your eye.
You smile back, feeling warm and grateful despite the madness. “Happy Thanksgiving, Nico.”
And as Jack snores softly beside you, and Luke and Dawson continue their ridiculous argument over what to watch, you realize that this chaotic, goofy, wonderful group is your family. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.
#° braindead writes#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier fanfic#nico hischier imagines#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagines#luke hughes fanfic#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagines#jack hughes fanfic#dawson mercer x reader#dawson mercer imagines#dawson mercer fanfic#new jersey devils x reader
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Ok tumblr I’m now begging
BEGGING
That you start treating these “ridiculous drama” scenarios that get boiled down to one sentence the same way you’ve helped people treat “frivolous” lawsuits against major corporations
Because it’s been several times now I’ve seen shit like “chili lady cancelled for sharing food?! The worlds gone mad!!” Without actually knowing the real conversation that was happening about that incident.
Same thing with the DoorDash shit recently
And let me tell you the vast majority of these situations involve disabled people sharing their thoughts and feelings on a topic, and so-called progressives going “you’re fucking re- I mean uh ridiculous! Who would think like this!? Entitled lazy fucks!”
#I cannot stand seeing the chili neighbor thing in here when I saw first hand what went down with my own two eyes#like not even to mention she had a long history of being anti Black and harassing Black trans women for calling out racism in the white#trans community#which I witnessed#but the thing about the chili?#she was being nosy snooping around in her neighbors trash and decided because they get take out that they weren’t doing well#so instead of going to them first and getting to know them she just decided to make a random meal for them#which doesn’t make you the devil or anything#but plenty of disabled people kept pointing out that hey you should ask before you bring someone food for multiple reasons#like food sensitivity issues or smell or allergies#once again pointing out the importance of just talking to the people first#and frankly all of this could have been avoided if she didn’t feel the need to post about it to virtue signal to her clique#like it’s clear she was doing this to feel like a savior not to actually help people#it’s all the fake ally shit#you don’t ask someone what they need you just assume you know what they need#like please be fucking honest#and don’t even get me started on the DoorDash shit#and how much ableism has come out of that
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“Kindly consider the question: what would your good do if evil did not exist, and what would the earth look like if shadows disappeared from it? Shadows are cast by objects and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. Trees and living beings also have shadows. Do you want to skin the whole earth, tearing all the trees and living things off it, because of your fantasy of enjoying bare light? You’re a fool.” - The Master and Margarita
#aaaand here we are with the ship moodboard#I think I’ll call them wolzebub#yes I can tell that they’re rotting my brain that I’m like my 4 year old self smashing my dolls head together screaming ‘now kiss!!’ but#but they’re truly a refreshing dynamic ngl#I usually write my ocxcanon ships with an underlining opposites attract kinda thing#like opposing values opposing characteristics opposing concepts and such#and the ship itself is basically a particle collider when it comes to writing interactions#but this girlie and woland are different parts of the same thing they’re both the devil#the seven deadly sins are basically the seven faces of the devil because all cardinal sins come from pride#yesterday I spent a lot of time to somehow figure out which sin woland represents because even tho the novel calls him satan#satan and lucifer are not the same entity they don’t even represent the same sin#satan is the sin of wrath while lucifer is the sin of pride and woland is rather proud than wrathful#his goal throughout the novel is basically exposing cowardice and false knowledge which is much more fitting for lucifer to do#anyway back to these two#shipping them is like shipping unohana with kenpachi but they’re old money and doesn’t want to fight each other to death#I mean they do fight a bit but it’s just play fighting and bickering#bc I apparently can’t ship anything if there’s no throwing vicious insults wrapped with a coquette bow and said in a loving manner#there’s still some respect for each other buried really deep like REAL deep#ok maybe not that deep#bc as I said you say something bad about one of them you’re dead you’re dead meat#I can make such a cunty yet hella gothic playlist for them#also I wanted a quote from the tragedy of man but the screenshot fucked up the whole thing I had to scrap it#my moodboards :3
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Pretty Bird
Sylus X Reader
Summary: Sylus is jealous of you giving Mephisto attention. That's it. You tease him when you find out.
Word Count: 2123
Note: Nothing really, hope I did him justice! His dialogue is a little harder for me to nail down.
---
The first time it happens is when you cross to the N109 Zone to accompany Sylus on an “errand”.
The first thing you do when you reach the ornate, empty house - of course - is say hello to your favorite bird.
“Hey there pretty bird.”
Mephisto squawks, bobbing excitedly on his perch as you bound up to him. You grin and give the crow a gentle scratch on his head. He preens under your touch, mechanical feathers fluffing with another quiet, scruffy caw. Adorable.
Despite his unnerving gaze, which you find to be eerily similar to a certain Onychinus leader, you can’t help but love the little bird. For some reason, it always comforts you a little bit to see him perched outside your apartment, or following you around Linkon. He always tries to act like he’s not spying on you, but you know he is, and you know he’s going to report right back to Sylus. Maybe that’s why it’s comforting.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to sway his loyalties.”
Speak of the devil.
“As if,” you snicker, giving the bird one final scratch before spinning on your heels to face Sylus. He sits across the room in one of his big armchairs, eyes glued to the gun he’s loading, face carefully blank. As always. You saunter over and pop yourself onto the arm of the chair, bumping his shoulder. “You know Mephisto doesn’t listen to anyone but you. I’m just like the fun mom who gives him things.”
His lips twitch ever so slightly, “Mmm, does that make me your husband in this situation?”
Heat creeps up your cheeks.
You are no stranger to Sylus’ flirty nature. That’s how things have always been between you, though it only really gets to you now. Before, when you kind of hated his guts, it was just annoying. Well, maybe even then-
“You wish,” you retort, but there’s no hiding the blush painting your cheeks.
“Hm, I thought you knew me better than that, sweetie.” In an instant, his hand curls around your wrist, giving it a sharp tug that knocks you off balance. You let out an undignified squeak, tumbling right into his lap. And before you can squirm away, Sylus locks an arm over your legs, keeping you trapped against him. Those red eyes freeze you in place, dark and warm with mischief. “Why would I wish for something I could so easily take?”
You stare at him, eyes blown wide, face completely red now. You can’t even form any words in response, which seems to amuse him even more. A smirk curls his lips, and he gives your hip a playful pinch.
“What? Crow got your tongue, sweetie?”
You sputter, finally finding your voice, “Sylus!”
“Good. Now that you’re focused, we can go handle business.” Sylus sets you on the ground, making sure you’re steady before he stands nonchalantly and tucks his gun in its holster. Like nothing just happened! “We don’t want to be late now, do we?”
Before you can even say anything more, he’s heading for the door. It takes a few seconds to shake yourself from your state of shock, and then you’re quickly following after him.
“Sylus-!”
He cuts you off, that stupid, attractive smirk still on his lips, “And by the way, try not to spoil Mephisto too much, sweetie. He’s grown rather petulant when you’re not around.”
You’re pretty sure your blush sticks around for the entire car ride after.
---
The second time is when you visit on one of your off days.
When you get there, Sylus is still asleep. You take a moment to crouch by his bed, a fond smile adorning your lips as you take in his peaceful face. You remember when he used to sleep sitting up, so he was ready for anything, but now he looks relaxed. Though you still spot the gun tucked under his bed.
Deciding not to bother him, you quietly make your way back out to the living room and grab a book. It’s about the only way to pass time in the N109 Zone, at least, without getting yourself into anything dangerous. As soon as you sit down, Mephisto flaps across the room and lands on your arm, plopping himself down into your lap like a cat.
A giggle escapes you when the crow throws his head back, looking up at the most awkward angle you can imagine. You give his beak a little rub, and he makes a soft clicking sound, beady red eyes falling shut.
“I swear, it’s almost like you’re a crow with cat programming,” you hum, mostly to yourself. Mephisto ruffles his feathers, though, at the word ‘cat’, eyes flashing back open. You snort, easing a hand over his wings, “No worries, pretty bird, no cats. I’m just kidding.”
He settles back down, seemingly embarrassed by his reaction, which only makes you want to coddle him more. So cute. If only Sylus would be this cute with you. Heat tinges your cheeks at the thought of the tall man resting against your lap, looking up at you with softly narrowed eyes, humming in content as you pet his ha-
Snapping your book open, you throw yourself into the story in hopes of banishing such rogue thoughts. If Sylus knew what you were imagining, he would tease you for years. You really don’t want to feed his ego even more. Mephisto wedges himself between your arm and your side, happy to just fall asleep as you read, oblivious to your inner turmoil.
It doesn’t take you long to actually get immersed in the storyline, though. So much so that you don’t hear the steps coming up behind you.
“It seems you come here more often to spend time with Mephisto than with me.”
You practically jump out of your skin when a strong arm circles your shoulders. Sylus’ voice is a low rumble in your ear, thick with sleep. He leans over the back of your chair, and you narrowly miss the way he eyes the bird in your lap with distaste. He looks far too content curled up on your lap.
“I didn’t want to bother you while you were sleeping,” you hum, closing the book.
He grumbles, sleepy eyes shifting to bore into you. The smallest pout pulls at his lips, and you have to stifle a giggle as you reach up to smooth down his messy hair. Sylus leans into your touch, much like Mephisto did, his eyes flickering shut. Okay, maybe he is just as cute.
“Are you mad I didn’t come cuddle with you?” You tease. Sleepy Sylus is definitely your favorite Sylus. “I didn’t know the big, bad Onychinus leader likes to snuggle.”
“It’s simply to ensure you don’t cause trouble in the N109 Zone,” he murmurs, still just as quick-witted though he’s half-asleep, “I can’t have my kitten wandering around all by herself, now can I?”
“I was just reading, Sylus. No trouble here.”
“Hmm, then you might as well come read in bed.”
You hesitate, fingers tracing along his jaw lightly, “You sure I won’t disturb your sleep?”
Those dark eyes blink back open lazily, a rare, genuine smile dancing in their depths, “Trust me, kitten, my sleep will be much better with you at my side.”
God, you’re weak for this man. Mephisto squawks his complaints as you lift him from your lap, but takes off to his perch without much fight. Sylus feels a flash of victory as you intertwine your fingers. The sensation of your small hand in his eases the strange tightness in his chest whenever you’re apart. He curls his other arm around you possessively, sending the bird a smug smirk.
You catch it this time, lifting a brow as you glance between him and Mephisto. Your brain stalls. Was he…jealous? No way. There’s no way Sylus would be jealous of you spending time with his bird. He’s more mature than that…or maybe not, you realize as he drags you back to his bed, only to lay himself over you like a large cat, using your lap as his pillow. Exactly as you imagined.
Your heart flutters a little, which you’re sure he hears somehow, because he squeezes your waist teasingly. You pinch his cheek lightly before running your fingers through his snowy hair. It’s always softer than you expect.
“Go to sleep, Sylus,” you murmur, voice far too fond, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He hums, and you can feel the sound vibrate through his body. Almost like a purr.
God, you don’t even have a chance, do you?
---
The final time is when you visit the N109 Zone to attend another auction with Sylus. And this time, you catch him in it.
“Where’s Mephisto?”
Sylus’ face sours at your question. You bite back a smile.
Ever since the day you spent napping in his room, you haven’t been able to escape that thought swirling in the back of your mind. So you decided to test your theory. Sylus is always messing with you, afterall. It’s only fair you get a bit of revenge.
“I sent him out to gather intel,” Sylus huffs eventually. Why do you always look for that d*** bird first? “That is his purpose, afterall.”
“Oh.” You feign sadness, letting out a long sigh. “That’s too bad! I brought him some treats.”
“Well, you can leave them here. I’m sure he’ll eat them later,” he says, voice dismissive as he fixes the cuffs of his coat.
“Hmm-” You slowly make your way over to him. Those perceptive eyes narrow on you, watching you carefully while you straighten his collar. “Will he be here later? Maybe I can give them to him after the auction. I miss my pretty bird.”
Amusement curls in your chest when you see the man’s brows twitch ever so slightly. He’s really annoyed. Now you understand why he loves pushing your buttons so much.
“No, I’m afraid he’ll be busy all night.” You can practically hear him gritting his teeth. Almost there. You keep your eyes focused on his coat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. He’s trying to figure you out and you’re scared that if you look up, the laughter you're holding back will break loose. Instead, you put on an exaggerated pout.
“That’s unfortunate. I was really hoping to see him tonight.”
Sylus growls. Actually growls in annoyance.
“Would you prefer to have Mephisto on your arm tonight instead of me?” His words come out biting and harsh, tinged with unmistakable jealousy.
The air goes silent.
Before you burst into a fit of giggles. Sylus’ eyes widen when you collapse against his chest, your entire body shaking with laughter. He freezes, though his confusion quickly gives way to realization.
You were playing with him.
“I suppose this is some form of revenge,” he hums, shaking his head. It’s surprising it took him so long to catch on. With anyone else, he’d be beyond angry, but your laughter is so bright, so infectious, that he can’t stop the small smile that pulls at his lips. When you finally look up at him, tears glint in the corners of your eyes. Who thought this would amuse you so much?
“You’re jealous! The Sylus is jealous of a little bird. His bird.” You bite down on your lip in an attempt to muffle the giggles that keep coming, but it doesn’t do much to help. It’s just too much for you. You never ever thought you’d see Sylus actually jealous of someone, let alone an animal.
Sylus narrows his eyes, though they glow with a certain fondness. “Such a sadist, sweetie, messing with a man’s heart so lightly.”
“Oh, but your reaction was so adorable,” you sing, reaching up to poke his cheek. He playfully bites at your finger, making you draw it back quickly with another laugh. “Just the fact that you could even think I like Mephisto more than you is so silly. I couldn’t help myself.”
“Hmm, then I’m afraid you’ll just have to prove my silly conclusion wrong, won’t you?” His hands settle on your waist, drawing you closer to the warmth of his body. You oblige him, stretching your arms up and around his neck to draw him down.
“Of course. I can’t have my pretty bird walking around thinking he’s second best,” you tease, fingers curling through his hair. “Even if he has a jealousy prob-”
“Quiet.”
Anything else you say is muffled as Sylus finally kisses you.
Safe to say, after that, you make sure to give Sylus extra attention, especially when Mephisto is around. (Though you do still sneak him treats when Sylus isn’t looking.)
#lads sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you#lads sylus x reader#love and deepspace reader insert#love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus x reader#x reader#reader insert#jealousy#love and deepspace sylus
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“IT’S LAUGHING?! IT’S ALIVE?!”
— gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, and toji hearing the baby’s first laugh (f!reader)
a/n: guess who's back, back again then I will be gone again (probably)
GOJO SATORU:
your husband is, admittedly, a very funny guy.
his humor always manages to get to people one way or another, so even if he doesn’t get a laugh, he certainly gets some sort of reaction.
not with his little angel though, the one person that he would die to see her laugh.
no matter how much tickling or raspberries he blew, it was never a laugh, merely a smile or a very short giggle if he was lucky.
he would come across a ton of videos of babies having hearty laughs and simply wished to be able to get the same reaction out of his daughter.
it is the reason he is currently burying his face in your chest and whining, “I feel like she thinks I am just not that funny.”
“satoru, she is still a baby,” you hum, fingers carding through his hair, “you know that babies have different views about what is actually funny; actually, I saw baby not long ago at a photo of number eleven. it was so cute!”
“but I tried everything! even the unusual!” he huffs, standing up to retell all of his failed attempts, “I tried dropping stuff, quickly stirring a liquid, lightly touching her with a balloon—everything!”
he looks at his daughter with his best puppy eyes, “come on, d/n! isn’t there anything that would you laugh a belly laugh?”
a little idea pops into your head. giggling, you sneak off leaving your daughter trying to comfort her wailing papa the best she can.
d/n is caught up with satoru until you finally come back and she smiles, “mama!”
“hi baby!” you grin before smacking your husband—lightly but not so lightly—with a roll of newspaper.
he yelps, “y/n! why would you do that?!”
but he is cut off by his little girl laughing, and I mean laughing so hard she kind of leans back.
you wait until she is quiet again before smacking him with the roll one more time, and she, once more, starts laughing heartily with small little wheezes and a long breath in the end when she calms down.
your husband, mortified, picks his daughter up, “d/n! you’re not supposed to laugh when papa gets hit! you’re supposed to get sad!”
she starts giggling and kicking her feet, putting her hand lightly on his nose. she tilts her head confused, and satoru thinks he knows what she is waiting for him to say. he shan’t falter!
at least, that’s what he thinks.
d/n takes matter into her own hands and smacks him on the forehead, resulting in him yelping and her going into a laughing fit that lasted a minute or so.
how unfortunate that his most precious takes pleasure in him being hurt.
his head snaps towards you, but he guesses that it makes sense since you also love teasing him so much.
a bunch of devils he says! two cute devils he laments.
GETO SUGURU:
geto is convinced that he was blessed with two angels, her cute little twins from his beautiful wife, you. he is also convinced that they would do no wrong—which is like what wrong can a baby a couple months old do anyway.
he ignores how gojo screams about being bullied by the girls, how that one mean babysitter was yapping about how they most definitely threw their toys at her intentionally, and how miguel syas that the girls always hide his glasses because they love seeing his stressed face.
to geto suguru, his daughters could do no wrong.
aside from that, he also noticed that his daughters love playing with hair, sometimes eating it which makes him scream but oh well.
for the most part, they know to treat their father’s hair gently as they watch you and himself do it.
that’s why he never thought that his darling angels would get their first belly laughs by pulling on his freaking bangs.
each twin holds one of the bangs and with all their baby power, they pull and pull almost like they want to tear it off his head.
and while he adores that his daughter are laughing so much—for the first time too—that they stumble back almost turn red, but he really doesn’t want to bald before heat least reaches his 50 or something.
another problem is that you never interfere unless he straight up screams for your help.
that made him realize how much of a common occurrence it is and he finally decided that he needed to put his foot down.
so he sat his girls down—including you because you’ve tolerated the violation of your husband’s hairline so much—and took a deep breath.
“girls, we need to learn that papa’s hair is fragile and we shouldn’t pull on it so much,” he turns to you with the quirk of an eyebrow. “right, honey?”
you barely hold back your smile before nodding and loyally supporting your husband, “why, of course, my love!”
he rolls his eyes, “so, be good girls and don’t pull on my bangs, please?”
one of the twins, while the other frowns and starts fussing. you lock eyes with your husband, and you both try to telepathically figure how to handle this, until your other twin starts crying.
now, you have two crying babies.
congratulations!
so your husband concedes and kneels in front of them, bravely offering his bangs. almost instantly, they stop crying and start pulling the bangs on their respective sides.
they start laughing and squealing again, and geto starts to think that balding is a small price to pay for his angels’ happiness.
he should probably stop calling them that though.
NANAMI KENTO:
now, in constrant to nanami, his daughter came out all bubbly and smiley, and it had nanami going as soft as a marshmallow.
it also didn’t help that d/n is convinced that her dad is indeed a marshmallow in which that she could only touch him softly.
she would gently pat his cheeks, press clumsy little kisses to his forehead, and squeal in order to cuddle with you or him. she also is extremely empathetic and starts crying whenever she sees someone hurt or genuinely frowning.
that was also the reason why gojo adored her since her crying cut anyone’s session of bullying him short. though, of course, he buys her a ton of toys to make up and comfort her.
he fails to realize that the true way to comfort her is to place in your arms or nanami’s.
like that one time when she bumped her head lightly and started crying profusely, throwing punches at gojo who was supposed to be babysitting her—poor choice but who am I to judge. she screamed and squirmed, demanding she be comforted.
however, none of the toys gojo bought were working.
and the two of you were called into a mission, so he literally is rendered helpless. that is until nanami returns a tad bit early than planned, and satoru couldn’t have been more relieved.
he hurriedly places d/n in kento’s arms, and the little girl takes a few seconds to realize who is holding her now.
she looks up, smiling at her dad. he instantly smiles back, “hey there,” he hums, “did you miss me?”
anyway back to what i was saying: a very sensitive and empathetic baby, right?
so when one day, you have your girl perched on your lap and nanami is going all out with scolding gojo, no one expects your daughter to burst one laughing.
you giggle, looking at her, “d/n, you like seeing papa scold uncle gojo?”
gojo gasps, “what?!”
you usher your husband, “babe, try it again!”
nanami nods with determination and gathers everything gojo ever bothered him with and translates it into a bunch of very child-friendly insults.
with each reproach, gojo deflates and d/n starts laughing more, squealing and wheezing. your husband abandons the crushed gojo and goes to hold d/n in his hands, “you okay there?”
she squeals and reaches for her feet, eyes never leaving her father’s. you coo, “she is so cute!”
“I never imagined my daughter would laugh at the sight of me, out of all people, scolding gojo.”
a very wounded gojo screams, “well I sure did! you family of haters!”
your husband frowns, but before he can talk, d/n cups his face and starts babbling a bunch of nonsense. nonetheless, your husband hangs onto every bit of said nonsense.
gojo takes that chance to flee to the hills.
meanwhile, you’re holding a camera and recording the lecture(?) your tiny angel is giving your husband.
RYOMEN SUKUNA:
your baby is the son of the all-mighty king of curses.
the man who sends terrors throughout the lands, the mere sight of his face is enough to cause someone to pee themselves.
everyone cowers in front of him, except you and more recently his son. on the contrary, in fact, your son can’t help but cackle whenever his dad puts on his “scary” face.
the first time it ever happened was when you were strolling the palace with s/n in your arms.
you know not to enter the throne room whenever sukuna has the villagers over to “hear their complains” as it almost always ended with him slicing one part of their body off.
you figured that it would be okay to at least pass by it since they always had the door closed—that started when you gave birth—but to your surprise, the door was open this time, giving you and your son a front row seat to sukuna degrading his subject.
“you’re wasting my time,” your husband states, and the villagers starts panicking.
“a-apologies my lord, pl-please grant me a-another chance!”
your husband scowls, “and now you’re ordering me around?”
the villager starts crying and kneels to the ground. on the other hand, your son couldn’t have been laughing more. his laugh echoed so loudly in the room that it drew everyone’s attention.
sukuna stares at the baby in your arms and scowls again, “y/n, why is he here?”
your son squeals and starts laughing again, hiding his face in your chest. you light up at his laughter, and sukuna finds himself livid at how the scene makes him feel content—until he notices the villager staring at you as well, what a short-lived happiness.
swiftly, sukuna slashes the villagers into cubes, and your son—who came out of his hiding spot—bursts into a fit of giggles that has you wondering just how much of sukuna’s sadism was passed to your darling son.
while you ponder over that, sukuna quickly makes his way to you, dismissing all the servants and tasking them with taking out the trash.
when your husband is right in front of you, you look up at him with a frown, “my son is laughing at torture, sukuna.”
“he is probably laughing at how pathetic the man looked,” he says as he smirks and pulls you close.
you huff and bounce s/n lightly, “shut up, old man.”
sukuna quirks an eyebrow and leans to be on your eye level. his hand is placed on your head, and he threatens, “you’re insulting your husband?”
s/n gasps lightly before harshly latching on sukuna’s face, fingers digging into his second pair of eyes. sukuna does not give any reaction except standing up to his full height.
your son, however, is relentless and is still hanging onto your husband’s face.
you don’t know how to react. sukuna doesn’t know how to react.
s/n just lets out a series of battle cries.
FUSHIGURO TOJI:
if there is anything that toji is doubtful of is whether his son actually loves him or not.
why you ask? well, the only thing that gets the kid laughing—aside from you laughing or smiling—is literally any inconvenience that happens to him.
he remembers that one time when shiu was over to discuss some business, nothing out of the norm. megumi was on just sat on his high chair beside toji since you were at work.
toji was just sipping on his coffee when he burned his tongue, “gosh damn it!”
shiu was about to make fun of him, but megumi beat him to it as he started laughing heartily, even taking breaths in between to calm down but to no avail.
toji’s eyes widen as he stands up to go to his son, “no way you’re laughing at me getting—what the hell?!”
toji groans after he bumps into the table, glaring at his son who starts laughing all over again. meanwhile, shiu chuckles and teases toji, “I think your son just loves you so much, doesn’t he?”
your husband rises to his feet, quickly carrying megumi and lifting him in the air. he grumbles, “I want my wife back.”
another time was when you guys grocery shopping.
you had most of the list crossed out and the only thing left was the frozen vegetables. easy, right?
so you, your husband, and son quickly made your way to the section—since megumi wanted to go to the park later to play with yuuji.
megumi stays in your arms, while toji goes to grab them. considering how unlucky this man is, the bag slips from his hand and falls flat on his face, and it freaking stays there.
to your darling son, comedy had never reached this peak, so he lets out a guttural laugh.
you want to join in on the laughter, but you noticed that toji is standing still, with the bag on his face.
so you walk to him, gently taking off the bag and teasing him, “you okay, champ? that made quite the noise.”
“don’t even start,” he groans and buries his face in your shoulder, ignoring the wheezing megumi. he then starts complaining, “they keep whining about how he is a quiet and shy kid, but he sure ain’t with me.”
“isn’t that a good thing? It’s important for him to feel free around his dad.”
he turns his head towards you, a frown plastered on his face, “no kid laughs whenever his dad gets ridiculed by life.”
“you told me that you laughed when your dad fell down a flight of stairs,” you deadpan.
“that’s because my dad is an ass; I am not,” he pauses, “for the most part.”
apparently, megumi senses his dad’s distress and starts slowly patting his head, albeit shyly. he lowers his gaze and mumbles, “so’y.”
toji’s eyes widen and he is frozen in place for a moment. your son takes note of that and starts staring him in the eye, waiting for his reaction.
your husband doesn’t take long for a small smile to break out as he lets a small sigh, “’s okay kid,” he hums and pets his head.
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Straw hats kinks;🔞
cw: Headcanons.NSFW.Smut.18+.Fem reader. Luffy’s a bit gross. (BUT IF YOU DONT LIKE HIM LIKE THAT THEN YOU’RE NOT A TRUE LUFFY FAN‼️‼️) Sanji cums on food.
Characters: Luffy. Zoro. Sanji.
Not proofread.
-Luffy
• Hair pulling (Giving and receiving); he didn’t know how much fun it was to pull you down on his cock by your hair. Watching you try to get away from him and forcing you to look at him by your hair made his dick twitch. He also loved when you grasp his head when he’s going down on you. The feeling of your fingers gripping his hair harshly made him hard instantly.
•Excessive cum; Again he discovered this by complete accident. Even without using his devil fruit powers his balls are abnormally large and filled to the brim with cum. Doesn’t matter how long ago he was sucked dry they’ll refill within an hour. And with Luffy’s stamina he doesn’t even notice when he’s shooting blanks. But watching you fill up with his cum turned him on even more which resulted in him going longer creating an endless cycle of cumming inside of you. He likes to pull out slowly and watch the juices drip down his cock and onto the bed sheets; making a mess of your pussy.
•Spit; He’s so messy. His kisses are so sloppy. And he knows this, he often apologizes for his messiness but doesn’t do anything to improve it. So when he accidentally drooled over on top you he didn’t expect his cock to twitch so wildly. So (with your permission of course) he begins to spit on you more often. In your mouth; on your boobs; ass; pussy; face. Anywhere you’ll allow him to he does so. Hell he’ll even ask you to spit on him some times.
•Belly bludge; He loves placing his hand on your womb and, every time he thrusts feeling your skin stretch to accommodate his size. “Hmm~ I can feel myself inside of you~!” He’ll groan out with a laugh on the end of it. He makes it a game, placing his hand on your stomach as he’s trying to feel his tip with every thrust.
•Marking/Biting; He loves, loves, loves to leave marks on your body. By the end of your session you’re left with red and purple hickies and bites all over your body. He can’t seem to take his mouth off of your body, there’s something so addicting about having your soft skin in between his lips. A simple neck kiss often turns into a sex session because he’s so turned on by just sucking on your skin. (Although he does forget his own strength and ends up biting too hard sometimes.)
•Body crushing; “You can take it! Can’t you?” He giggles while he smothers you against the mattress. He loves the feeling of his weight on top of you. At first he used it as a way to restrain you and stop you from squirming but he soon began to enjoy the control he got from it. You can barely breath from underneath him, and your squirms were no more. There was something unexplainably sexy about you two being so close to each other that turned him on. He didn’t know what it was but now he loves to smother you against the bed sheets
•Bonus; He doesn’t mean to be so rough with you, it’s just that he doesn’t know his own strength and when he’s going at it, his mind runs blank more often then not. He’s not in control of his body and stretches his dick to reach your womb, trying to go beyond but it seems impossible. So he’s made it his goal to break through your womb! And he tells anyone who asks what his dreams are or goals. “My goal is find the one piece, become pirate king and break through Y/N’s womb!” He shouts in the middle of a heated battle. Sometimes you wonder why you love this idiot.
-Zoro
•Throat fucking; Zoro often has you laid out on his bed in front of him. He spreads out your arms grasping both of them tightly. He positions himself at the entrance of your mouth and goes to town. He loves to grip your throat and feel the outline of his cock as he thrusts in and out of your mouth like his own personal toy. So warm; so wet; and don’t get him started on that tongue of yours. It’s something about your throat that Zoro loves (slightly) more then your pussy.
•Dacryphilia; When your eyes start to water and tears prick the corners of your eyes Zoro let’s out nothing but a moan. There was no concern for you. He loves watching the tears streak down your cheeks as you whine and cry about how his cock is too big and too much for you to handle. “What is it too big? Come on now Y/N~ I know you can handle it~” The power and control he feels from seeing your pathetic tears make his dick run wild.
•Breastfeeding; The man loves boobs, and he loves sucking on them too, this kink was a no brainer. He doesn’t know why but playing with your nipples and sucking on them gets his rocks off. He’ll get hard In seconds from just playing with them. Sometimes he’ll fall asleep with a nipple in his mouth.
•Cockwarming; Just like how he’ll fall asleep with your nipple on his mouth, he’ll fall asleep with his cock still inside of you. It feels at home just being inside your warm cunt. He loved spooning you and just shoving his cock into you without warning and falling asleep in seconds. It’s just so relaxing, feeling you squeeze him tightly in his sleep. He’ll stay like this with you for hours, but don’t be surprised when he wakes up and starts going to pound town without warning.
•Boxers; something about seeing you in his boxers makes him hard in a heart beat. Man sees you wearing his boxers and he is sprung. You look so sexy wearing his underwear, he can devour you in seconds if you come to bed wearing his boxers. The boxers being way too big for your figure; the way he can see the outline of your cunt. It drives him crazy. A simple nap together can turn into getting freaky in the sheets because of you wearing his boxers.
•Orgasm control; “listen to me. You can’t cum now. Don’t disobey me baby girl~” Again it’s the power going all to his cock. When he feels you squirm and your walls twitch he shakes his head “Ah, ah, ah. You’ve gotta hold it until I cum first alright?” His voice is so demanding and feeling your uncontrollable twitching go against his words causes him to smack your ass. “Bad girl~” he warned with a smirk.
•Breeding; The thought of knocking you up is just so enticing to him. Stuffing you full of his cum and watching you quake and shake makes his body feel so hot. And watching your baby bump and tits grow larger just turns him on so much. He’ll place his hands on your stomach and breasts every day, feeling them swell as the days go by, god it just makes him hard instantly. He’ll pump you full of cum every single night, he can’t help it he loves using your hole for hours on end.
•Bonus; not really a turn on, turn on. But Zoro finds it hot when his s/o is smarter then him. Say something smart, figure something out or lead him back to the crew and he’ll just stare at you with a devious smirk. He’s totally silent but that smirk on his face is all telling.
-Sanji
•praise (giving and receiving); “you’re doing so well for me princess~ just a little more.” “What a good girl you are for me~” “fuck~ so tight. So good for me~ hmm~” with Sanji being Sanji, even if he can’t speak full sentences he’ll praise you to the ends of hell. But if you praise him back, call his cock big, tell him how good he’s fucking you, tell him he’s amazing and sweet to you; he’s hard again in minutes and you’ve earned yourself another round.
•Brat taming; My goodness, please, please, please act naughty and disobey him. It turns him on soooo much. If you tell him ‘no’, try to get away from him, or tell him something mean he’s quick to remind you who’s in control here. He’ll pin you to the bed like “uh uh uh~ Be a good girl for me, okay princess?” With a playful wag of his finger he’ll lightly scold you and act like what you did was childish before rightfully punishing you. Shoving his cock in your pussy before fucking you painfully slowly, and with your body pinned you can’t move at all. You’ll end up whining and begging for him to speed up, and only when you say please is when he’ll comply.
•Spanking; It goes hand and hand with brat taming. Be too naughty in one night and he’ll bend your bare ass over his knee. “Now you’ve earned yourself 20 spanks. I want you to count with each one or else I’ll have to start over.” He warns before he smacks your rear. He’s gentle with you, not too harsh but not too soft of course. He just wants you to learn a lesson. And when he sees the plush of your skin turning a soft red and purple it drives him wild. After the spanking is over he’ll kneed the bruised skin with a sly smile. Sinking his fingers into it to hear you whine and cry more.
•Bondage; He likes the restraining aspect of bondage. He likes to tie you up and restrict your movements. He’ll tie your hands around your back with just about anything he could get his hands on. A rope, a ribbon, his own tie. Loves to watch you squirm and cry, begging to be unrestrained but you’re at his mercy. It makes him feel like he’s in control, only he can let you go and only he can make you feel like this.
•Oral (Giving); Sanji LOVES to eat you out for hours on end. He’ll tie your hands behind your back and place his hands firmly on your thighs so you can’t move. He’ll leave a trail of kisses along your stomach before his head dips down to your wet cunt and his tongue does it’s job. He’ll have you ringing out orgasms on end. Not stopping from your whines and protests of overstimulation. He’ll go until your clit is sore and your pussy aches. He loves eating you out, your juices are simply delicious. He loves feeling your thighs squeeze his head, he swears he can cum just from your noises and the action of his tongue sliding in and out of your slick.
•Food play; Sanji often treats himself with a snack late at night and that’s you. He’s brought whipped cream and hot fudge to the bedroom and you’re his plate to decorate. He’ll tie you down to the bed and spread whipped cream on your sensitive nipples, a trail of hot fudge runs down to your pussy and cherries on top to garnish the dish. He makes you a work of art before devouring your body. As he eats you up like no tomorrow you can feel his hard on pressed against your inner thigh. You’re just the best dish he’s ever had, how can he not get hard?
•Bonus; “I’ve made you a special dish tonight my love.” Sanji beckons as he enters the bedroom holding a plate. You know exactly what that meant and hummed softly laying down on the bed. “It’s a chocolate eclair, made with Love~” He sung happily taking a piece of it up with his fork and putting it to your lips. You could see the runny, milky-clear, liquid of his sperm sitting on top of it and you gladly ate it and you could see the exact second his cock gets hard in his pants.
#luffy x reader#luffy smut#one piece fanfic#one piece#Sanji#sanji smut#one piece Sanji#Zoro#ronoroa zoro#zoro x reader#zoro smut#headcanon#op luffy#op zoro#op sanji#x reader#one piece smut#not gonna lie I went a little off the rails with this one#anime smut#anime#x you#x y/n smut#x y/n#scraps.luffy#scraps.Zoro#scraps.sanji#luffys.scraps
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Astro Observations/Opinions (Tropical Astrology Edition) Part Two
Hey guys! Thank you for the support of my last tropical edition🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾! I appreciate y’all so much!
I can’t wait to share what observations I have, so let’s start!
These are based on my perspective of placements and signs, so take what resonates and leave what doesn’t🫶🏾 I’d love to hear y’all’s take as well!
1. Pluto in the 1st house/Scorpio ascendants are secretive when it comes to their private life but at the same time if you really knew one you’d know that they don’t have anything special to their lives (NO SHADE ONE BIT) they just hide themselves and the more they hide the more interested people are of them but once they share it’s kinda like 🫥. like it’s the climax we expect but when in reality is just like everyone else’s. They are very magnetic and alluring HEHE like they walk in a room and EVERYONE cocks their heads but tbh they’re just like everyone else they just have a great way of hiding it to seem like it’s otherwise. For instance, we all wanna know BEYONCÉ and most people wish she wasn’t so secretive but at the same time her life consists of traveling, motherhood, touring, and singing and dancing like tbh in the grand scheme of things is very mundane. Not saying there’s nothing interesting abt her (NOT SAYING THAT AT ALL) but their lives are mundane (like the lady gaga meme “bus, another club, no sleep) like they do the same shit😭 imo (like there so only but so much they can do that’s new and interesting as opposed of what she’s been doing for 20 years atp) But at the same time, when they do share a part of themselves, people become extremely aggressive and provoked by the pluto in the 1st house for NO REASON (like beyoncé sharing her hair videos and people were so negative and saying that it was weave when it clearly isn’t, black women can grow long hair yk????) ESP when her daughter blue ivy was teared apart in the media for having more features of Jay Z than beyoncé like imagine having your child being hated and trashed on for something they can’t control???? no wonder why they don’t share and are secretive because people really tear apart what they have so🥺just my two thoughts but also some are overly secretive for no reason at times like 😀
2. Pisces placements are just as vindictive as scorpios lol like…. don’t let their delusional quirk fool you. yes are they delusional, YES AND they shouldn’t be hated for it all the time imo bc they are a very sensitive sign (like anyone with pisces or neptune personal aspects will understand like CRYING over the littlest thing, very emotionally receptive and can feel others emotions like mf) butttttrrrr sometimes they can use that against you lol
3. Gemini placements get wayy too much hate for no reason like 😭two faced and be called ANYTHING out the woodwork Lmao and not to say it isn’t true but at the same time gemini’s really are chameleons and they can get along and with anything and anyone tbh. Doesn’t mean they’re two faced for having completely different personalities, they really just blend in with any group they want to, they are veryyyygy mentally smart and have a great way of words. gemini placements are extremely perceptive too which people forget😭like GEMINIS CAN READ A BITCH really fast and that’s a underestimated part of them. Tbh in tarot they rule the lovers and i feel like if we’re going to hate on anyone it should be the devils (LMAO capricorns as they are ruled by them in tarot but i’m just kidding no sign should be hated more than the next)
4. Leo risings are insecure and they make people insecure very easily. Leo’s really do overpower a room like scorpios, and as much as people hate on leo placements i feel like they have such great magnetism and charisma that not a lot of other signs may have. Like scorpio risings, leo risings walk into a room and because their energy isn’t off putting anyone and everyone gravitates to leo risings (my mom is a leo rising and anywhere and everywhere so many people come up to strike a conversation with her lol) and that makes a lottttttt of people insecure. but although leos portray and exude confidence, they really do think of themselves as inferior sometimes (which can make them very prideful and “narcissistic” as others would say because both of those come out of insecurity).
5. Taurus venus women voices are sooo fucking powerful and soft like i’m so jealous (ariana grande, lana del ray, victoria monet, chris brown🤢, demi lovato) like they sing SOOO well i rarely meet a taurus venus that can’t sing. sound like goddesses real bad (taurus mercury’s to an certain extent have the same energy).
6. Virgos, you know you don’t have to overextend yourselfs to everyone🥺 BABY GIVE URSELF that energy you give others. On the topic of virgos, why are virgo moons so hypocritical?😭
7. Saturn in the 1st house people i feel so bad for y’all. Y’all never really let yallsevles loose and that’s a placement that can indicate suffering from depression 🥺
8. Aquarius’s are so fucking smart like everyone aquarius i know graduated a year early due to GREAT GRADES and a great sat/act. I think one that I knew went to an elite school and got a full ride likeee y’all are so fucking smart like I GOTTA SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACKK.
9. i’ve never met any person with venus mars aspects (even in harsh ones) that was not fine 😋
10. if you want a sugar daddy/sugar baby, find someone with planets in your 2nd house (benefic planets such as venus, sun, mercury, jupiter) and even 8th house hehe i shared 2nd house synastry with someone and they used to send me money like every week or so
11. 8th house synastry with mars is better than 5th house synastry (unless the two are paired together 😏) i had better experiences with 8th house mars synastry than 5th house synastry (5th house is super fun but sometimes it has no substance) but for anyone who is crushing on someone who has planets in ur 12th house, BE CAUTIOUS!
That’s it is! Thank you for reading and have a good day!!
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Spoil of War
dark!aegon x niece!reader
summary: aegon enjoys his time with his prisoner of war
A/N: my bad y'all, it took me forever to get this up
TW: MAJOR DUBCON, smut!!, bondage, incest, violence, kidnapping, degradation, body worship perhaps
word count: 2,245 words
You sit in your childhood bedroom, stewing with your thoughts. It was all so quick, the battle with Daeron, the demise of your dragon. You should be grateful; she spent her last moments cushioning your fall so you wouldn’t die on impact, but you can’t help thinking that you would be better off dead. There’s hardly anything worse than being a prisoner of war, except being Aegon’s prisoner of war.
Speak of the Devil, Aegon has the guards open your chamber doors and the smug bastard strolls in. “Ah, my sweet niece. I finally have the chance to lay my eyes on you.” He regards your nightgown with great interest. You haven’t had a chance to dress yourself for the day yet. “You’ve been quite the subject of controversy as of late.” He says with a light smirk.
“Which part is controversial, the fact that you’re keeping me prisoner, usurper?” You say back to him with spite.
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. It’s a temporary situation.” He says, unconcerned as he walks over to your dining table of untouched food and picks up an apple, taking a bite of it. “Once your mother bends the knee, i’ll return you to her. It’s as easy as that.”
“Or they’ll take control of King’s Landing and Daemon will slaughter you where you stand.” You’ve never heard your voice filled with such hate before as when you speak now.
“Come on, the threats are hardly necessary. You are safe with us - for the time being.” He makes a stupid joking cringe face at the second part of his sentence. “You could do with being more amicable.”
“Amicable? I’m your fucking prisoner and if her Grace the Queen doesn’t bend the knee to your spoiled, traitorus ass, you’ll execute me.”
“War doesn’t often give you many options. And you, my dear niece, are a very valuable bargaining chip.” As he speaks, you know he takes the utmost pleasure in you being in his control. You want to wipe the smug grin off his face.
You reach for the piece of glass you had hidden, ever so slowly. You feel your hand clutch it and your gaze is filled with rage as you launch yourself at him. “You traitor!” You aim for his throat with the sharp point but he catches your arm. The broken glass barely grazes him, leaving only the thinnest line of blood as proof of your attack. He twists your arm and the piece of glass clatters to the floor. Your uncle releases you only so he can backhand you so hard that you fall to the floor.
“Gods, you’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He wipes the drip of the blood off his neck. “Clever girl, going for the throat.” He laughs at you. You just tried to kill him and he laughs at you.
You glare up at him, your face distraught and full of vengeance. You quickly reach for the glass that you had dropped but as soon as you manage to grip it again, Aegon kicks you in the stomach. You curl into yourself, whimpering.
“Okay that’s enough of that. Guards!” The guards immediately enter the room, ready to defend their king. “Restrain her. Use… rope.” He has a certain look on his face as he says the last word, seemingly pleased with himself as he struts out of the room.
You’re left on your knees, by the fireplace for an hour until Aegon returns. Your hands behind your back, the bindings keeping you in place. There is, what you consider to be, an unnecessary amount of rope tied around your body that is seemingly for decoration, for your uncle’s pleasure.
“Are you calm now?” He asks as he strides back into your chamber with arrogance. “I wasn’t sure what the cool down time was for Strong bastards.” His stare is hungry as he looks upon you. “What a pleasant sight, my combative niece tied up at my feet.” He almost mumbles the last part.
“I will be calm when I watch your body burn.” There is heat in your words, your threats.
“That is a lot of big talk for a girl who is kneeling for her king. You’re much more desirable like this… when you’re helpless beneath my gaze.” His fingertips graze under your chin, tilting it up so you have to look at him. You jerk your head away.
“Don’t touch me!” You spit at his feet.
“Silly to say such things when you’re at my mercy.” He kneels down to look at you better, his fingers run along your soft hair. “I’ve never been more tempted. And i’ve been tempted many, many times.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. “I had forgotten how divine you are.”
You know where he’s going with this, what he wants. His finger trails down your nightgown, to your breast, giving it a light squeeze. “You’ll burn in the Seven Hells for this!” You say as you fight against your restraints.
He ignores your words. “If I were a more brazen man, i’d ravish you right here and now… oh wait.” He chuckles at his own joke.
The fire burns bright behind you and his dagger gleams in the warm light as he unsheathes it. He cuts one of the cap sleeves of your nightgown. “You have no right.” Your eyes flare bolder than dragonflame as you speak.
“Oh, my lovely sweet niece, I absolutely have the right because you are under my protection. If I want to rip that nightgown off and ravage you, who’s going to stop me?” He says sadistically… lustfully as he cuts the other cap of your gown.
“It’s not a proper way to treat an important bargaining chip.” You say softly. To be truthful, younger you would be preening at the chance to be so close to Aegon. Up until now, you had thought that part of you had died with Luke. Now, he’s so close, so... alluring.
“It’s not, but when have I ever been known to behave properly?” He then cuts your nightgown off of you, down the middle and as swiftly as he can without cutting through your bonds, leaving you naked other than the smallclothes that barely cover your lower half.
His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you almost completely naked. His hand falls to your thigh, rubbing the smooth soft skin. “You’ve always had such a lovely figure, niece.”
You flinch and squirm some more. And then you begin to scream bloody murder. Aegon winces before grabbing part of your torn nightgown and shoving it in your mouth. “Such a noisy girl. Now, that’s better. You shouldn’t scream so much. I only intend to show you a good time. I promise you’ll love it.” He smirks again. “Well… i’ll love it.”
His other hand trails up your navel, to your breast, giving it another squeeze. He then pushes you back on the flocculent carpet and what a sight you make with your hair splayed around you and your pretty mouth gagged. The pillows are strewn about you, in place so you can sit as close to the crackling fire as you wish. Now, it has become the perfect scene for Aegon to take you. He looks at you as if you are the maiden herself, descended from the heavens to be gifted to him. To him, your fairness outmatches Psyche… it outmatches Aphrodite.
“You don’t know how long I have waited for this, princess.” He then rips your remaining small clothes off, leaving you completely nude. His eyes just rake over you for a moment before he speaks. “Ah, a sight I could get used to.” He leans down to kiss your breast, focusing on your nipple, focusing on making you feel good? He litters little marks all over before moving to the other and giving it the same attention. He then begins to methodically kiss down your chest, to your tummy, past your navel. You know what he intends his final destination to be. You keep your legs clamped firmly shut, not fully because you want him to stop, and partly because of the wetness that lies between your thighs.
“Hm, a little shy, are we? How sweet…” It isn’t difficult for him to pry your legs open and he grins at the sight of you dripping for him. “Naughty little girl, all wet for her uncle.”
You turn your heat to the side so you don’t have to make eye contact with him. He grabs your chin and turns your head back. “No. You will watch as I fuck you with my tongue.” You try not to groan as he licks up between your legs, his eyes on yours as his pupils blow wide. He kisses, licks and nips at you, taking you to places in pleasure you’ve never been before. When his tongue pierces your entrance, you can’t stop the whimper that falls from your lips. You hope the gag muted the sound enough that he wouldn’t hear, but your hopes are dashed when he lifts his head.
“I think I want to hear all the pretty little sounds that you make. No more screaming though. Unless, they’re screams of gratification.” He pulls the torn cloth from your mouth but you keep your lips stubbornly sealed. He shakes his head and chuckles before he is between your thighs again. The man eats you like you’re his last meal but you don’t let a single sound out, much to his displeasure even if he can tell that you don’t do it with ease.
“Why must you be so difficult?” He asks exasperatedly.
“I want you dead.” He rolls his eyes at the statement. “Perhaps you aren’t as good at pleasuring women as you believe.” That pisses him off.
“You’re such a little liar.” He flips you over so your ass is in the air and your chest and face are squished into a cushion, your hands unable to hold you up due to their bindings. “Perhaps I need to fuck that bratty behaviour out of you.” He says and you hear the rustling of clothes behind you. You know he’s undressing and you know there’s no way you can stop him from taking you now, not with how you have pissed him off, not with how your cunt is so deliciously presented to him. But it won’t stop you from trying.
“Aegon don’t you dare.” You say with all the confidence you can muster. You don’t fear your maidenhood being taken, you fear the possibility of a bastard being put in your belly.
“Don’t you ever presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, wench.” With that, he shoves himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. You let out a strangled moan and he laughs. “No keeping your sounds to yourself now.” He then begins to piston himself into you, the head of him brushing your cervix with each thrust. You feel so full every time his hips meet yours. “Gods i’ve never felt a cunt so tight and wet.” His hands grip your hips roughly so he can bring them back with each thrust, making it feel like he’s hitting deeper inside of you.
“Aegon…” You whine out and squeeze a little around him.
“You like it, don’t you? You like it when your uncle fucks you. I’ve taken you as a prisoner and now you’re moaning in pleasure as I use you. What would your brothers think, what would your mother think, if they saw you taking my cock so well?”
You just whine his name again in response, your head too cloudy to give him an answer.
“I want you to say it. Say how much you love having me inside you.” He fucks into you so deeply that all you want to do is obey.
“I l-ove it, uncle. I love it when you fuck me.” You whimper out again as he stretches you so perfectly.
“That’s what I fucking thought.” His finger comes between your legs to rub your clit and you almost scream. “God, you’re such a little cockslut. Am I your first, little niece?”
“Y-Yes…” You say softly and he grins.
“I thought so. Nobody gets so worked up like a maiden.” He rubs you harder, so fast that you see stars. You begin to squirm a little as your walls begin to squeeze around his thick cock.
He grasps your hair at the roots and pulls your head back so you have to look him in the eye. “That’s right, cum around my cock, baby. Do it.” You fully reach your peak with his command. He watches your face contort with pleasure as you finish around his cock, drawing out his own orgasm. He gives a few more hard thrusts before spilling his seed in you. “Good girl.”
You wince as he pulls out, feeling empty now. He easily manoeuvres you back to your knees and stands up with you at his feet. He tilts your chin up so you have to look him in the eye again.
“I’ll be visiting you much more often now. You don’t have the kind of cunt a man can handle only fucking once.” His thumb strokes your cheek. For the depravity he speaks, his voice is surprisingly soft
“I hate you.”
He smiles gently. “Hate me all you want. I can take it.”
taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey
#aegon targaryen#aegon#aegon targaryen smut#aegon x reader#aegon smut#aegon ii targaryen smut#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#hotd#hotd smut
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ᡣ𐭩 unpredicted date
-> synopsis: in which mualani sets up an unpredicted date between you and kinich which leads to silly moments between the two of you.
-> warnings: mildly inspired by that one kimi ni todoke episode, fluff, gender neutral reader, silly kinich, modern!au + tags @ryescapades @lunaritex
You swear you’re going to kill (not literally) Mualani when you see her again.
When she asked you to go out on a girl's night out today, you didn’t expect to see Kinich be the one waiting in front of the aquarium instead of Kachina and Mualani.
Mualani… You sigh, then your phone beeps, signaling a message.
Speak of the devil, Mualani is the one who messaged you, simply sending you a
mualani have fun with kinich today! you’ll thank me later, promise :3
“Y/N,” Kinich calls out your name, snapping you out of your daze. You manage to give him a small smile as you walk towards him. “Mualani told me that you guys were hanging out today and she invited me to come along but it has been fifteen minutes and she hasn’t arrived yet.”
“I wonder why…” you grit your teeth, and before you can say anything else, Kinich’s phone rings. “Is that her?” you ask, but you already know the answer anyway.
Kinich nods. “Should I put it on speaker mode?” you agree and he clicks the speaker button. “Hello?”
“KInich! I am terribly sorry but I can’t make it to today’s hangout,” Mualani fakes a cough (which sounds too fake, mind you). “Me and Kachina caught a sudden cold-” you can hear Kachina protest in the background before her voice muffles, probably Mualani covering her mouth. “Have fun with Y/N today, yeah? And take lots of pictures.” Mualani ends the call before Kinich can get another word in. He stares at his phone before putting it back into his pocket.
“Well…” Kinich reaches into his other pocket and fishes out two tickets. “Guess that’s why she asked me to hold on to these yesterday.”
“Yesterday?!” you choke on your spit. “Well she’s prepared for the worse…”
“That’s Mualani for you,” Kinich replies. “Let’s go then. We might be lucky and grab the limited edition items in the story.”
You gasp. “How’d you know they are available today?! That’s why I suggested to Mualani that we go early yesterday!”
“I searched them up,” Kinich says. “I thought you would have liked it and I was right.”
You freeze in your tracks. He was thinking about me? The limited items remind him of me? Holy shit-
“Y/N?” Kinich waves a hand in front of your face. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah!” you shake your head. “Let’s go inside.”
The aquarium itself is beautiful, filled with different kinds of fish some of which you recognize and some you don’t. You and Kinich don’t talk to each other up until you find a small fish that piques your interest.
“Kinich!” you grab his arm and pull him in the direction of where the fishes are located. You gasp in awe, seeing their beautiful colors. “Look! Look how pretty they are.”
Kinich sees the sign next to the aquarium. “Betta fish.”
“Oh, is that what it’s called?” you ask, eyes still trained on the fishes swimming around. “They’re beautiful…”
Your eyes sparkle as you stare at the fish. Unbeknownst to you, Kinich wasn’t even looking at the fish. He is looking at you. You, who is completely fascinated by the small fish swimming around the small aquarium. You, who has the brightest smile he has ever seen. A smile appears on Kinich’s face before he clears his throat and looks away, a tint of red appearing on his cheeks.
“Sorry, Kinich!” you apologize, though he doesn’t know what you’re apologizing for. “Are there any other things you want to look at?” you turn to look at him only to see him staring at an empty corner. “Kinich..? You okay?”
“Yeah,” Kinich murmurs. “Wanna go get the limited items?”
“You’re right!” you exclaim and once again take his hand in yours. “Come on! We have to hurry!”
The merchandise store is empty when you arrive, which means that the limited items aren’t sold out yet.
“Excuse me! We’re here for the limited items you guys sell!” you exclaim, almost out of breath.
“You’re just in time! This is the first time we’re releasing a limited item for couples!” the employee responds, bringing up two small octopus plushies. “Here we are. Two octopus plushies for the lovely couple.”
You choke on your spit. “W-Wait we’re not-”
“Thank you.” Kinich takes the plushies from the employee without denying their words. “Here.” Kinich hands you the cuter-looking one, and you accept it almost hesitantly. The employee bows as you leave the store.
You keep quiet as soon as you reach the exit and Kinich notices. “You okay? Why are you being so quiet?”
“Um… You heard what the employee said before, right?” you ask and Kinich nods. “Weren’t you going to deny her words..?”
“Was it uncomfortable for you?” Kinich asks.
“No, no! It was just unexpected. I thought you were going to deny it immediately.” you hold the octopus closer to you. “It just shocked me a bit. But on a serious note, thank you for hanging out with me today, Kinich.”
“It’s my pleasure. I like going out with you and um,” Kinich looks away. “We can do this again if you want to… Just the two of us.”
Your eyes brightened. “Really?” he nods. “Okay! I promise I’ll come ask you to go out with me some other time.”
“Okay,” Kinich replies. “Let me walk you home?”
Knowing Kinich’s slightly stubborn attitude, you accept his proposal. The walk back home is filled with silence, but you can’t ask for anything better.
(Mualani later sent a picture she took of you and Kinich in the aquarium. Kinich was looking at you with the cutest smile on his face as you are focused on the Betta fishes).
#crys' writing ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ#—stellaronhvnters.#kinich#kinich x y/n#kinich x you#kinich x reader#kinich fluff#kinich genshin#genshin impact#genshin impact x y/n#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact fluff#genshin impact kinich#genshin#genshin x y/n#genshin x you#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#genshin kinich
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They say Captain Munson has a gift. That he’s blessed by a god’s touch.
His ship has survived every battle. His crew flourishes with bounty, with health and good fortune. He steers them unerringly through every storm, sailing directly into the gargantuan waves, into the lightning and rain, and comes out the other side pristine while other vessels would have been sunk, snapped and splintered on the ocean floor, crew turned to ghosts to haunt the waters.
They say he made a deal, sold his soul, sold his crew’s souls, will find his reckoning one day at the end of a sword or drowned in the sea he loves so much. They say he’s a devil of his own, that his eyes glow red and black and his teeth are sharp and fanged, nails clawed, that he slaughters innocents and bathes in their blood.
But the truth is much simpler. Captain Munson is no devil, he did not sell any souls, and he certainly isn’t blessed by any god.
Captain Munson fell in love.
He didn’t mean to. When the fishing nets are reeled in that fateful day he expects nothing more than a few meals, a couple pounds to send to the kitchens for Benny to work his magic with. He isn’t even on deck when the catch is brought in.
It’s Gareth’s frantic voice that draws him upwards, his shouting and knocking on his cabin door that has him strapping a sword to his hip before taking the stairs two at a time to see the threat.
He’s expecting a King’s ship. Maybe another pirate.
He isn’t expecting a mer.
Pale, unconscious, bleeding, sprawled on the deck, plush and soft and gorgeous, tan torso tapering down into a huge, shimmering tail. He’s breathing but it’s shallow, weak, a shell on a necklace moving faintly with each hitch of his chest.
And the crown. A simple circlet, golden and shining, tangled in his chestnut hair, gems glinting from the locks.
Mers are mythical, believed to be stories by some and history by others, but Eddie grew up hearing the tales of them every night from his mother, and the evidence is right in front of them - how can they do anything but believe?
It takes three of them to move him below deck. Eddie grips him under his arms, Gareth supports his hips, and Jeff wrangles his tail. They take him to Eddie’s quarters, the only bed big enough to fit him.
He wakes in stages, delirious from pain, snapping teeth and swinging claws when he has the strength for it and slurring rambling words when he doesn’t, head lolling on the pillow, eyes rolling back.
His injuries are strange - a band of dark bruising around his pretty throat, his back shredded, bites taken out of the dips of his sides and the meat of his tail. There’s sickness in him, but Joyce is patient. She patches him up, soothes the mer’s fever and stitches the wounds she can, bandages what she can’t, keeps it all clean, keeps it wet because apparently that’s what he needs - salt water, which makes Eddie cringe in sympathy, but only seems to ease the mer’s pain, not make it worse.
It’s a week before those pretty eyes blink open with genuine awareness in them, sharp and wary. Eddie’s taken to sitting at the mer’s side, feels a strange responsibility to him that he doesn’t want to look too closely at, and he glances up from his journal to find the other’s gaze locked on him.
“Where am I?” he croaks out, and Eddie smiles, snapping the journal shut.
“You’re aboard the Hellfire, sweetheart. Captain Eddie Munson, at your service.” He bows in his seat, and it goes over about as well as he thought it would.
There’s a lot of threats and snarling and cursing, but Eddie simply leans back, out of the mer’s reach as he crowds himself into the corner of the mattress, back pressed to the wall and sheets tangled around his tail.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he tries to soothe, and the mer scoffs. Eddie can’t blame him for his caution, but he tells him the honest truth - where he was found, the state of him, how they’ve nursed him back to health.
The mer’s hand hovers over one of the nastier wounds at his side, covered in gauze, dampened with saltwater. When he cuts his eyes back to Eddie there’s a little less animosity in his gaze, and Eddie will take what he can get.
Eventually he pulls a name from that snarling mouth. Stephan. “Prince Stephan,” he begrudgingly admits once Eddie points out the crown that he’d gently worked free of his hair.
And he’s a mer, but different.
“Siren, is what I believe your kind calls mine,” Stephan says, “half and half. Mer and human.”
“Human,” Eddie muses, and Stephan confesses, warily, haltingly - he’s the King’s bastard son. Born to King Richard of the land and the Mer Queen of the sea.
“And how did the Prince of the Mer find his way into my net, hm?” Eddie asks, smiling, and Stephan rolls his eyes at him.
He’s a runaway. King Richard had come looking for his son and with his mother’s blessing Stephan abandoned his title, his home, because the King would find him eventually if he stayed, and whatever dangers he might face in the open sea would be nothing compared to what the King might use his gifts for.
“Gifts?” Eddie asks, and Stephan smiles, his pointed teeth glinting.
It’s a clear day, not a cloud to be seen, no sign of rain or bad weather. And yet as Steve begins to hum softly, a shadow crosses overhead.
It happens slowly. Stephan’s voice builds, a wordless little melody, something melancholy and soft, and the sky beyond the windows of the cabin darkens. Thunder rolls and in the distance, Eddie can see a crack of lightning.
The ship rocks as waves begin to form, the once-smooth water taking a turn. Eddie can hear the crew above deck begin to shout to one another, confusion building, growing more insistent as Stephan’s song grows, and Eddie’s stomach drops.
The siren’s voice is haunting, terrifying. Eddie’s frozen in place, meeting his eyes even as tears well in his own. He’s transfixed, can’t move, can’t speak, paralyzed with some ancient, instinctual knowing of danger, of death.
Eddie does not scare easy. But this is terror personified. This is the true threat that lives in the sea. Not the waves, not man, this. This creature who smiles at him with sharp teeth and a haunting voice, reaching towards Eddie with a clawed hand, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear in a touch that makes Eddie’s skin crawl and his heart skip and dread sink into his very bones.
He’s staring death in the face, and death is smiling.
Then Stephan quiets, and it’s over as quickly as it had begun. The sky clears in moments. The waters calm. The vessel’s heaving calms, and Eddie’s spine unlocks.
He stares at the being before him, amazed, before a slow, brilliant smile breaks over his face.
“Full of surprises, aren’t you, Prince Stephan?” he asks, and gets a smile in return.
“Call me Steve,” he tells him, and fondness begins to worm its way into Eddie’s chest.
“Then call me Eddie.” He sees Steve’s eyes flutter, and he tilts his head. “You’re tired,” he tells him, and gets a huff in response. “You’re safe here, Steve,” he tells him, and he knows he doesn’t trust him, not fully, not yet, but that’s okay. “Rest. I’ll keep an eye on you.”
Steve watches him warily, but clearly the little display has worn him out. His hand finds that same wound on his side, cradling it carefully, back shifting like it hurts to sit up straight and stretch all that marred skin.
“Lay a hand on me, and I’ll eat you,” Steve warns, and Eddie snorts a laugh.
“Whatever you say, highness,” and he tugs the sheets back into place over that large tail, and lets the mer get the rest he still clearly needs.
part 2 💕
#steddie#mermay#merman steve harrington#siren steve harrington#pirate eddie munson#stevexeddie#steve/eddie#mine
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wrong time | jjk
⤷ part of the timing series
⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader
⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut
⏤ rating: 18+
⏤ warnings: dilf!jungkook, tattooed!jungkook, swearing, mention of breakup, mention of jk being a fuckboy, broken hearts, nervousness, communication issues, mention of going through a dark period, oc wasn’t really nice, mention of sickness, mention of the hard side of parenthood, jk and oc are workalcoholics, the closure conversation, mention of sex, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of cheating, sexual tension, dom!jungkook, big cock!jungkook, nipple play, pet names, penetrative sex, protected sex, rough sex, and creampie
⏤ words: 13,986
⏤ summary: meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company. At that exact moment, he realizes that the two of you fell in love at the wrong time but is now the right time?
⏤ author’s note: wrong time is finally all yours! i actually can’t believe it’s finally posted after almost a year of work! but it also makes me incredibly happy to release it. the past year has been a crazy year and this fic is a reflection of all that. most of the things mentioned in the fic are things that i experienced so this makes wrong time even more special to my heart 💞 i really want to thank my nikki @xpeachesncream for her support, i know i couldn’t have done it without her! 💞 enjoy the fic & let me know what you thought of it!💞
MASTERLIST
A bright smile spreads across Jungkook’s face as he stares down at his five years old daughter, Arya. In the past ten years, he has made quite a lot of mistakes but Arya will forever remain his best mistake.
“Have a wonderful day, my little queenie,” he says while kneeling down at his daughter’s level.
His smile grows wider when his eyes linger a little longer on the small human being that he adores with his entire soul. She looks extremely tiny in her navy blue dress and with her massive backpack. Arya doesn’t get to choose what she wears when she goes to school, she has her uniform. So outside school, her father lets her pick whatever she wants to dress.
“You too, dadda,” she says before throwing her minuscule body into Jungkook’s arms.
Having his daughter in his arms is what truly brings warmth and happiness to his broken soul. For this, he’d sell his soul to the devil, and for her, he’d fight every battle. Well, honestly speaking, he has been battling his own demons since the moment he found out he’d become a father. He never wanted her daughter to have an absent or mentally sick father. He wanted to be present for her from the beginning.
“Tonight mommy will pick you up, and you’ll stay with her for the week, okay?”
Jungkook is the CEO of Jeon Industries, the company he built from ashes seven years ago. Due to his extremely busy schedule, he only gets to spend the weekends with his daughter. Every monday morning, he drops her at school before passing by her mother’s house to drop her things off, and then, he goes to work.
“Yes, dadda, I know,” she says with a nod.
The only thing he deeply regrets is offering this family dynamic to his daughter. She always lives in between two houses, and only spends the weekdays with her mother and the weekends with her father. He wished to give her the same family he grew up in, but despite that, he knows that his little baby is very happy which is the most important for him.
“If anything happens, you ask mommy to call me, okay princess?”
The little girl nods once more before newly squeezing her father in her arms.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be with mama,” she simply replies.
Eunji, Arya’s mother has become a great friend of Jungkook, and he knows that she’ll take good care of his tiny princess. But he’s always scared something might happen to her. A life without her is something he doesn’t want to imagine. A little over six years ago, he wouldn’t even be able to imagine himself becoming a father but today, it is the other way around. This little girl has brought so much light into his life. A light he never thought he’d find.
“Bye, dadda,” she says before pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
A small smile appears on his face while he turns around and stands up to look at his little girl walking to the school’s entrance. His eyes don’t leave her tiny figure until she reaches her school and disappears from his field of vision. At that moment, he feels a little twinge in his heart. He’ll deeply miss Arya for the next few days, but that’s the way it is.
The only way to spend every single day with her is to get into a relationship with her mother, but ever since he met her, he has never loved her. There’s only one woman he ever loved. It’s the one that got away. You. Even after those past ten years, he’s still not over you. And to be honest, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over you. The void you left inside his heart is tremendous and nobody, except you, will ever be able to fill it.
After a couple of minutes of standing in front of his daughter’s school, he walks to his car with his hands in his suit pants’ pockets. With his head down, he tries to wipe away the fact that he already misses his daughter and that he still misses you after all this time. Some years ago, he believed that by now he would have had his life together but he’s still as lost as he was after the breakup.
Things are for sure different because he has Arya and he’s used to living with this sadness. He has also become the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the country. He has also stopped being a fuckboy, he tries to find someone that’ll want to spend the rest of their life with him but it’s not easy when he compares all the girls to his old lover. None of them actually stand a chance.
His phone rings, causing him to remove it from his pocket. The name of his assistant is appearing on the screen, and without thinking, he picks up the call. It’s always important when Davy calls him.
“Hey Davy,” he says as he answers the call.
“Hello, Mr. Jeon,” the man on the other side of the call says, “Mr. Kim is here and wants to speak with you urgently.”
A deep sight leaves his lips. Kim Taehyung is his best scientist. Without this man, Jeon Industries wouldn’t have grown as much as it has over the past three years. So if he wants to speak with him urgently, it must be extremely important.
“I’m on my way,” he simply answers.
Today, he was planning on taking the morning off to rest a bit. The past few months have been extremely crazy with the expansion of Jeon Industries but when you’re a CEO, you actually never get to rest. There’s always something.
The call directly ends and Jungkook doesn’t waste one more minute before rushing to his car to get to his company as soon as possible. A million ideas run through his mind as he drives to his office. There are a lot of possible urgent matters to discuss.
However, he doesn’t want to start imagining the worst-case scenario so he turns the music up. Music is his getaway, the way he found to escape how empty he feels every day, the way he found to cheer himself up to find the courage to hide from everyone how broken he truly is. Usually, being with Arya also helps him to feel better.
Work is also his escapism but lately, he’s been trying to live more and work less. He’s been also considering trying to find a new arrangement with Eunji in order to spend a day with Arya during the week. Or to even completely change the arrangement. Spending more time with his little girl is his top priority, he just needs to figure out things first. Plus, changing the arrangement would completely turn Arya’s life upside down, and he doesn’t want to do that before being sure that his busy schedule can be rearranged.
In less than twenty minutes, Jungkook reaches the massive building sheltering Jeon Industries. He parks his car in the company’s underground parking before quickly jumping out of the car and walking to the elevator. This first elevator only goes to the first floor which is the main entrance of his company. Then, he’ll have to walk a bit to reach the other elevator that will bring him to his office.
Once he reaches the first floor, he crosses it, his eyes scanning the people in the room. As usual, it is crowded with workers. While looking at every face, he recognizes a familiar one. A face he wished he had forgotten. A face that has been haunting him night and day for the past ten years. A face that made his heart beat faster. Well, in fact, his heart is actually going completely crazy right now.
Jungkook halts to take a proper look at that face he never thought he would ever see again. That face is yours, the lover he lost years ago. He rubs his eyes, wanting to make sure that he’s not dreaming. Tiredness can make him imagine things, especially when it comes to you. But after rubbing his eyes, you’re still there, talking to a person next to you and smiling.
Meeting ten years later the girl he deeply fell in love with is something Jungkook never thought would happen. But here you are, standing before his eyes with a bright smile on your face as you walk through the massive lobby of his company.
His heart breaks a little because it is so unfortunate that he gets to see you here and now. Since he has to rush to his office to discuss whatever he has to with Taehyung, he won’t have the time to at least say hi to you. Something he would like to do. His eyes follow you as you disappear into the lobby with that person.
He wishes he was the reason behind your smile.
The past month has been an incredible one for you.
You joined Jeon Industries as a scientist which is more than an honor for you. This company is one of the biggest at the moment, and for sure, it’s a privilege to be working amongst the most talented scientists in the country. Being there for the past month has been rewarding.
But outside that, you’ve been feeling extremely proud of Jungkook. He has built this entire empire from ashes and he did it so well. The company is well known in South Korea and very slowly, it is getting known worldwide. People are fighting to get a job here, you’ve seen it when you were applying for your current job. This is bigger than what he ever dreamed of or at least, bigger than what he told you about.
You still remember how he used to talk about his project of creating his little company. He’d spent hours imagining how it would be to start a business, how it would be to find the first employee, how it’d be to do experiences, and also, how it would simply feel to run a firm. His head was full of dreams that he would constantly share with you. You assume that he must feel like he has achieved everything in life.
A little smile appears on your face as you remember the old times. It isn’t always all rainbows and sunshine but there wasn’t any doubt that you both loved each other. Falling in love with him was absolutely wonderful. You’d fall in love all over again just to experience that strong feeling again.
For sure, since Jungkook, you got other boyfriends and you even got engaged. However, falling for them was never as close as falling for Jungkook. It was even far from that but it doesn’t change that it was still beautiful. Love is an incredible life experience, something you’d fight for every single day of your life. You even got a tattoo of the word “love” in japanese on your shoulder.
Right now, you’re walking to a meeting room with your team. Kim Taehyung, the director of your department, wants to have a little meeting. Probably to discuss the new project or probably to discuss the last project’s results.
Soon enough, everyone enters the meeting room. To your surprise, Taehyung is already there, patiently waiting for the team to arrive. But what really surprises you is the person sitting next to Taehyung. Jeon Jungkook. They are both talking, a little smile on the big boss’ face.
Instantly, your heart starts hammering in your chest, ready to burst at any moment. Although you hoped never to meet him here, you knew it was in vain. This is his fucking company. This is all his, including you. There was no way you’d never see him.
As you get closer to both men, you take in the man you once loved with all your soul. To say that he hasn’t changed would be a complete lie. He still looks the same but he’s a very different man. Slowly, his face turns to meet you. Unlike you, he doesn’t seem surprised to see you entering the meeting room.
When your eyes meet, you feel like it becomes obvious to everyone that your heart is about to explode while Jungkook’s expression becomes more serious. It is almost as if he’s becoming cold but you can’t really tell because in ten years a person can change a lot. So maybe he’s simply normal right now.
As you look at him, it feels like time has completely stopped. Your heart is beating way too strongly in your chest, your hands are getting sweaty, and you purse your lips. Right now, as you’re standing in front of Jungkook, you’re starting to regret working here. For sure, it’s very prestigious but the CEO is your damn ex. Having to face him will for sure be extremely hard.
“Hey everyone,” Taehyung says with a little smile appearing on his face.
With those words, your eyes move from Jungkook to Taehyung. Your thoughts are focused again on work, not the man who owns this company.
“Thanks, everyone for coming,” he pursues.
The director keeps on talking, explaining the last project you all worked on and its results. Your heart swells with pride when he explains the results and shows the good work of your team. As you deeply listen to your superior, you completely forget that Jungkook is even here. Work has always been your safe place. For sure, it shouldn’t be but it is what has helped you to get yourself together and to overcome your devastating breakup. A breakup that you caused.
Truth be told, you never wanted to end things with Jungkook but you needed it. This relationship brought so much crap to the surface, and you were in a very dark place. To be honest, you didn’t want to deal with your ex because everything was so overwhelming so you pushed him away. You never wanted to hurt him but in the end, that’s exactly what you did. Before even ending things, you were already pushing him away, you were always finding an excuse to not spend time with him. Back then, you discovered that you were good at finding excuses.
But you did wrong.
For sure, you could have talked with him. You could have communicated what was going on with him and even today, you know that he would have helped you. He would have remained by your side until you felt better. But you didn’t want that because you knew he deserved better. Well, that’s what you have been repeating yourself for the past years. But was it really the truth? Was he really better off without you?
Honestly, that’s something you’ll never know because you chose to walk away. You chose to be the one that got away. You didn’t choose to stay and fight your inner demons with him by your side. You chose to do it on your own, and eventually, you tried to replace the void he created in your heart with other guys. Only, it never worked because you were damaged, deeply damaged.
It only got better when you decided to work on yourself and make things work for yourself. For the past six years, you’ve been doing tremendous work on yourself. It’s never easy but you’ve found peace within yourself. Even if you’d like to credit yourself for that bravery, it was actually your ex-fiancé who opened your eyes.
Kangdae entered your life when everything was only chaos. You never thought it would work between you two but through that chaos, he was the light at the end of the tunnel. He showed you how broken you were and that you could get some help, that there wouldn’t be any shame to do so. He held your hand when you were completely shattered. Not once did he give up on you. Not once did he accept that you would break up with him.
Eventually, with time, you started healing with Kang by your side. After three years of relationship, he proposed to you but it was obvious that you had some more healing to do. Neither of you wanted to rush the marriage. So you took your time.
However, you never got married to him.
As you started healing fully, things slowly fell apart. The love between you and Kang didn’t die but it changed into something different. It wasn’t romantic love anymore, it was more a friendship love. So you both agreed to cancel the wedding but Kang stayed in your life. He’s your friend now.
He’s also the reason why you’re sitting in this meeting room at Jeon Industries. Even though you really wanted to apply, you were very insecure because you knew the chances to meet Jungkook were high. Kang encouraged you to still take the risk since it will be such an asset for you and your career to work at your ex’s company.
For a brief moment, your eyes move from Taehyung to Jungkook. It feels unreal to be standing in front of him so many years later. Never have you thought you’d see him again because of the way you broke his heart. Nobody deserves to be hurt that way. Your heart aches as your eyes quickly gaze at your ex, the overwhelming pain causes you to look away.
The entire meeting goes well, both Taehyung and Jungkook are extremely proud of your team’s achievement. You’re also extremely proud of your hard work, it has definitely paid off. Nothing makes you happier than your superior and the big boss complimenting your effort.
Once the meeting is over, everybody stands up and gets ready to leave the room.
“Miss y/l/n, would you please stay?” The deep voice of Jungkook resonates in the small room.
You turn around to look at the man who just spoke. Your hands start shaking, your heart suddenly beats fast. You simply nod while your eyes scan the room, watching all your coworkers leave the room. Taehyung closes the door after looking at the two of you. He wonders what the CEO would want to discuss with you. To his knowledge, Jungkook wasn’t aware of your existence until an hour ago.
For a solid minute, none of you says a thing. You avoid looking at him while he takes the time to admire the woman you have become. There’s absolutely no doubt that you have changed. You’re a lot more frail than you were back then, and to be honest, Jungkook prefers the way you looked before. But he’s aware that things have changed and a lot of time passed.
“Mr. Jeon…” you start saying but he cuts you off.
“Jungkook, please,” he says.
There’s no way he’s letting you call him Mr. Jeon.
“Jungkook,” you correct yourself, “how can I help you?”
His eyes move to the massive screen hanging on the wall to his right. Now, yours are looking at him. Jungkook has changed considerably. The black tight suit he’s wearing is very different from the blue jeans and sweater he used to wear. Under that black suit jacket, he’s wearing a grey shirt. By the looks of it, he also seems to be a lot more muscular. His strong arm lifts up to run his fingers through his hair.
That is a clear sign that he’s nervous, an old habit he didn’t lose. A deep sigh leaves his lips, and you can’t help but smile. Even though he looks different, some of his old habits haven’t changed.
“Since we weren’t alone during this meeting, I just wanted to take the time to say ‘hi’ to you in person,” he nervously says.
Your heart gets warmer as you hear his words. This comes as a total surprise to you. You were expecting Jungkook to ignore you and even to treat you like shit but right now, he’s being extremely nice.
“Thanks Jungkook,” you say, “hi to you as well,” a little smile appears on your face.
Although Jungkook was kind of a fuckboy when you met him long ago, he had the biggest heart you’d ever met. The simple fact that he wanted to say hi to you shows that his heart is still as big or maybe even bigger.
“It’s weird to have you as one of my employees but I promise that I’ll try not to make things awkward,” he adds.
“I’ll try as well,” you reply.
The man in front of you finally looks at you. A smile appears on his face.
“Thanks,” he says.
You simply nod, a weird smile displaying on your face. Even though you don’t feel awkward, it still feels weird to be in this meeting room alone with your ex. The one whose heart you broke.
“I have to go,” he adds, “it was a pleasure to see you.”
The CEO of the company leaves the meeting room in silence. You take a moment to get yourself together before doing the same. Today was definitely an emotionally intense day but hopefully, things will only get easier from now on.
But you couldn’t be more wrong.
“So you’ve seen Jk?” your best friend Lux says.
Lux has been your best friend since you were 18. She actually appeared in your life at the same time as Jungkook, she was in the front row when you were flirting and when you started dating a couple of months later. She’s been a very important person in your life, she’s been there through the very dark periods. Without her support, you’re not sure you would have made it.
“It’s Jungkook,” you correct her.
Jk is too personal, there’s no way that you’ll call him that way. Plus, he’s your boss now so it’s preferable to keep things professional.
“And yes, I’ve seen him and I even spoke with him,” you add.
She definitely looks surprised because she never thought you’d speak again. Lux remained in contact with Jungkook following the breakup, they were friends as well and she knows how broken he has been since then. She thought that he wouldn’t speak to you at all after what happened.
“We had a meeting about the project I worked on,” you simply say.
For a moment, you consider not telling her that he said ‘hi’ but it’s not a good idea to lie or keep secrets to your best friend. Eventually, she’ll find out about it so it’s preferable to tell her everything right now.
“And afterward, he asked me to stay to simply say ‘hi’,” you continue.
She actually cannot believe what she’s hearing.
“Jk said hi to you?” she surprisingly asks.
“Yeah, I can’t believe it as well but that’s exactly what happened,” you reply.
The two of you keep talking about that for a little while but the conversation quickly changes to something different. Honestly, you don’t really want to talk about the past and the biggest mistake you probably did. Lux got it without you having to say it, and you’re thankful she understands it. Also talking again about Jungkook would be torture for her as well. After the breakup, she was the one being there for you, she was the one picking up every single shattered piece of your heart and trying to mend it with her love.
You had the toughest conversations with her, she was the one putting you in front of what you did and she never spared you. As she was still in contact with Jungkook she knew how he was but she never said anything to you. There was no point in telling you how devastated he was. She just made sure you understood how big of a mess you made.
But even if you broke Jungkook’s heart, you knew ⏤ and still know ⏤ that it was the best decision to end things. You did what you thought was the best for you back then. People can call you selfish but in the end, it was better that way. God only knows what you could have done if you stayed. Probably you would have broken Jungkook’s heart even more by staying.
However, karma is a bitch. Eventually, Jungkook later broke your heart as well. The day that it happened was the day when Lux told you that he was going to become a father. That day, you wanted to reach him and try to save things. Imagining him becoming the father of that child that wasn’t yours was devastating. It brought you back to all the moments when you discussed having children, what would be the name of your first girl or first boy, what they would possibly look like physically, or even their personalities.
Then, the second heartbreak was the day his daughter was born. Her name was Arya, the name you had chosen together for your daughter. That moment, you deeply regretted every single decision you took from the moment Jungkook came into your life.
Although Lux saw how broken you were when you found out about Arya, she found it absolutely beautiful that he chose that name for his baby girl. She was the living proof that he was still in love with you, that you were still on his mind. She believed that he was completely crazy to give that little girl the name he chose with his ex. Luckily, he wasn’t dating the mother otherwise she would have all the reasons to leave him.
Lux slips a sheet of paper on the table. While taking it, you frown with confusion. It seems a bit sneaky but for sure, if she’s doing it, it’s something important. You read what’s written on the paper. There’s an address but you don’t know where it is or what could be there.
“What is this?” you question her.
“It’s Jk’s address,” she responds.
Although she hasn’t remained super friends with your ex, she has been at his place, and he has been part of her life. You’re aware of it, she never hid anything from you because there’s no point. She’s been in between even though she stayed more your friend than his. She’s deeply sorry about how things ended because things were great when you were together.
“He already took the first step and talked to you,” she starts explaining. “Now, it’s your turn to gather your courage and have the conversation you were supposed to have years ago.”
Well, after your breakup, you avoided at all costs talking to him when he was begging to have a conversation. The famous closure conversation. But you denied him that right for the past ten years which wasn’t cool of you. He didn’t deserve that, you were a real bitch but you were hurt. Hurt people hurt others. You were convinced things would be a hundred times better if you wouldn’t speak and see each other.
“Tell him everything, explain yourself so both of you can move on and have a great professional relationship,” she adds.
Slowly your hands start shaking as you read the address in the paper you’re holding. The thought of having a real and deep conversation with him scares you but Lux is right. More than anything else, Jungkook deserves it. He deserves to know the full truth, to know what led you to hurt him the way you did.
Of course, you contemplated so many times talking to him but you never found the courage within yourself to do it. But maybe now is the time.
“I’ll think about it,” you tell her.
For sure, you need some time to think about everything. You can’t knock at his door tomorrow and start venting about the reasons you broke up ten years ago. It’s not fair for him nor to yourself. You need to think and consider how to formulate every thought that has been on your mind for the past years.
You fold the paper to put it in your bag. There’s no doubt that for the next couple of days and probably even weeks, you’ll keep staring at it thinking about the right thing to do.
“How’s your little man doing?” you ask your best friend to completely change the topic of conversation.
Lux became the mother of John four months ago. She’s half-korean and half-english, and a couple of years ago, while on holiday in England, she met Henry. They started a long-distance relationship, and she considered moving to England because she was madly in love with him, but in the end, he decided to move to South Korea. They moved in together, and shortly after, she got pregnant. They decided to keep the baby and to make you the godmother. Little John has been a blessing in your life.
“I think he’s getting sick, he’s a little bit warmer today but Henry is staying with him right now so if anything happens, he’ll call me,” she says.
“Why didn’t you say that earlier?” you ask with surprise. “Go home, right now, Lux, or I kick you in the ass!” you almost yell.
How can that woman be here talking with you when she believes her little boy is sick.
“It’s okay,” she says, “Henry has everything under control, he’s also his father, and I could use some time out of home with you.”
You frown, wondering if your best friend is doing well. Becoming a parent is something huge, but Lux has been handling things great so far, even though she never hid that it’s hard.
“I’m okay,” she adds when she notices your expression, “but I just want to breathe a bit.”
You nod, partially understanding what she means. You don’t have a kid so you can’t exactly understand what she’s feeling however you can imagine how it feels. You’ve seen how she’s been doing since your little godson arrived. She’s been extremely tired although very happy. It’s obviously very hard for her and most of the time, you don’t know how to help her.
Of course, you sometimes take care of John so she can rest a bit more or spend some time with Henry. Sometimes, you surprisingly appear at her place to help her out with whatever she needs. You can’t do much but you try to be there. That’s pretty much all you can do.
“If you need me to help you out with John…”
Her phone starts ringing, cutting you off. That’s Henry. But he doesn’t come with great news. He had taken John to the hospital because his condition was getting worse.
Lux immediately stands up, waves you goodbye, and rushes to her car to join her men. Since you were on a terrace, you paid for both your orders before leaving the place.
It was good to talk to her today, especially after seeing Jungkook at work some days ago. It has been on your mind since you’ve seen him. It was weird to see him and even have a little chat with him. But now, you’re even more sure that it wouldn’t be a one-time thing. You’ll for sure speak with him once more which is probably going to cause more sleepless nights because all you can think about is Jungkook. Hopefully, once you’ll talk, you’ll be able to sleep better and move on from all this.
Once again, you couldn’t be more wrong.
Jungkook has spent the last month not sleeping properly. His ex ⏤ you ⏤ has been haunting him even more than usual so he’s been a total mess. His brain is on fire, he can’t even think correctly. Arya has been his escape because work couldn’t be anymore. He’s been working more from home, avoiding coming to the office as much as possible. Exceptionally, Eunji has agreed to let her daughter spend more time with Jungkook.
Today is no exception, he worked from home. He just arrived home with Arya, he picked her up. Eunji enjoyed the fact that Jungkook has been more with her daughter to take some holidays. So now and for the next week, Arya will spend all her time with her daddy. She couldn’t be happier.
Arya and her father are currently eating pancakes that they prepared together. All this time with his daughter has been filling his heart. In a way, seeing you again has brought something so special to him. A lot of time with his baby. However, he’s totally aware that one day, he’ll have to physically go back to work. But only when he’ll sleep a bit more.
His eyes never cease to watch his little girl. He’s very lucky to have her, she brings so much happiness into his life. For sure, he would trade anything for moments like these.
“Daddy,” Arya starts saying. “My friends have a mommy and a daddy in the same house. Why you and mommy are not in the same house?”
He has a twinge in his heart. This is such a heartbreaking question but he knew that one day, this question would come. Probably, throughout the years, his daughter will raise questions about the fact that he’s not dating or even married to Eunji. But what concerns him, even more, is when he’ll start his life with someone else. One day, he’ll date someone. A person important enough that he’ll introduce to his daughter. There’s even a possibility that he’ll have children with that person. What would happen then with Arya? Would she be jealous of her siblings because they would have both their parents in a relationship while her parents don’t love each other in a romantic way?
“You know, baby,” he starts saying while thinking about the right words to use. “Usually when a mommy and a daddy live in the same house, it’s because they are in love like they are a girlfriend and a boyfriend but your mommy and I are not in love that way. I like your mommy but not in the way to be her boyfriend.”
The only person he has ever loved that way is you, but he totally lost you when you ran away like a thief. Eunji is somebody that he deeply cherishes but he’ll never be in love with her.
“Oh, it makes sense,” she says with a smile on her face. “But you not want mommy to be your girlfriend?”
Now, he’s the one having a little smile on his face. She’s definitely trying to understand the situation at a very young age, but that doesn’t mean she wants her parents to be like every other parent. Jungkook’s mom has already told him a million times that he doesn’t have to be worried about all this. The normal for Arya is having her parents in 2 different houses and not being in a relationship. For the moment, she’s just very young but she feels safe in this situation because he always made sure with Eunji that everything works well and that she feels loved all the time.
“No, baby,” he answers.
She nods, and he knows that she understands everything. It’s such a relief that she was just asking to understand.
“When mommy is back?” She asks.
“Next week and until there, you’ll always be with me,” he replies.
“Mommy will call us?” She questions.
Eunji has been calling every day to see her little girl. Even though she’s enjoying her holidays with her boyfriend ⏤ a boyfriend Arya isn’t aware of ⏤, she misses her baby every second of the day. She’s her mother, she carried her for nine months before bringing her to the world.
“Of course, she will,” he answers, “and if we don’t get a call before you go to bed, we’ll call her, okay?”
She nods before eating a bit of her Minnie Mouse-shaped pancake. She loves shaped pancakes and Jungkook always does them in the way she wants. If she wants regular pancakes, that’s definitely a sign to get worried.
The two of them keep eating pancakes while discussing all the interesting things Arya did at school today. She always speaks with such enthusiasm about what she did, she adores going to school and learning new things. Both Jungkook and Eunji believe she’s precocious. She’s extremely smart for her age but they try to not force her into anything. She does whatever she wants and they support her no matter what she decides. The most important thing is her happiness.
Once they are done eating, she goes to her little room to play with her little toys. Jungkook goes back to the desk that was set up in one of the empty rooms of his massive mansion. He turns on his computer and quickly checks the last unread emails he received. There are quite a few but that’s totally normal.
After a couple of minutes, his bodyguard knocks at the door.
“There’s a certain y/n at the door,” he says.
Jungkook’s heart stops and his entire body freezes. What on earth are you doing here? And how did you find out where he lives? This is honestly something he didn’t expect to arrive. He’s been avoiding being at work to not see you in person, however, he’s been checking every email you sent and he’s been also following very closely your progress at work. His mind has been even more flooded than usual by you.
“Thanks, Jin,” he adds before standing up.
The CEO of Jeon Industries rearranges his shirt and takes a quick glance at the mirror. He swapped his usual costume for a white t-shirt and jeans. When he’s at home, he just likes to feel comfortable like anyone else. There’s no need to put expensive clothes on to simply stay at home.
As he nervously walks to the entrance door, he thinks about all the possible reasons that would explain your presence here. Nothing really comes up to his mind which makes him even more nervous. Once in front of the door, he takes a deep breath and opens it.
You’re right there, standing in front of the door. Since he has seen you again, Jungkook has noticed that you now wear makeup. It wasn’t the case before, you used to prefer the natural look and he was kind of a fan of it. He used to find you astonishingly courageous for not using any makeup when most people wouldn’t dare go out without at least foundation on their face.
But as he’s watching you, he realizes once more how the two of you have changed since the last time you saw each other. A lot of time has passed since you both broke up. It even felt that it was a lifetime ago that he was part of your history.
“Hi, y/n,” he says with a little smile appearing on his face.
“Hello Jungkook,” you say.
None of you says anything which creates a little awkward tension.
“Sorry for coming out of nowhere, I just wanted to talk with you if it’s possible,” you explain.
Jungkook simply nods before opening the door wider to let you in. After a second of hesitation, you enter the massive mansion that he owes. This man has for sure achieved all of his dreams, there are absolutely no doubts about it. The two of you walk to his cozy living room, it looks smaller than what you imagined but it’s still pretty huge for a living room.
“Do you want to drink or eat something?” he asks.
“No, thanks,” you simply answer.
Well, you only came here to finally have that deep conversation with him. It took you one long month to decide to come but you’re finally here. You only want to go straight to the point. As you look around, you notice a lot of pictures of him with a little girl. That must be Arya, you think. Damn, you had forgotten about her. What if she’s here? For sure, you don’t want her to hear your conversation. You ignore totally how it will go. Maybe you’ll start yelling or crying. You don’t want her to find her father in such a state.
“Is your daughter here?” you question.
Your ex only nods.
“Maybe, I shouldn’t have come,” you respond. “Your time with your daughter is precious.”
Jungkook couldn’t agree more but having a conversation with you is probably something he’ll only get once in his life. His daughter, he’ll get to see her right after and then for the rest of his life. Right now, speaking with you seems more important than anything else. He’s been waiting for so long to have a conversation with you and tell you what he’s been feeling.
“I was working,” he immediately tells you, “she’s playing in her little room.”
A little smile appears on your face as you imagine the little girl in the pictures playing. She definitely looks adorable based on what you can see in the living room, and she must look even more adorable in person. You never got to see pictures of her since Lux told you that Jungkook became a father because you didn’t want to see the baby of your ex.
“We can speak,” he adds.
Well, if he says that you can speak, then you have no other choice than to do it. You nod and he invites you to take a seat on the couch. As you sit down, you feel your body slowly trembling. To say that you’re nervous is an understatement. You’re going to have a conversation with your ex, a conversation you were supposed to have ten years ago.
But what scares you the most is that this discussion will bring up all the things that broke you years ago. It’s true that throughout that time, you got to see a therapist and work through everything but it’s still different. You’re going to tell your ex why you left him.
“How did you find out where I was living?”
“Lux gave me your address,” you tell him, “she’s the one who pushed me to come talk to you.”
In the end, she was right. Jungkook took the first step and talked to you in the meeting room so now it’s your turn to make the second step. The past month, you’ve been thinking about it a lot and he deserves to know everything, even if it’s ten years later.
“So we’re lucky to have her in our lives,” he simply responds.
For sure, you’re more than lucky to have her. She’s your rock. However, you totally ignore what she represents to him because she doesn’t really talk about the relationship she has with him. Something that you have been really thankful for.
“Indeed,” you say while nodding.
Your eyes quickly scan the man sitting in front of you. A part of his tattooed sleeve is noticeable as he’s wearing a white t-shirt. This is something completely new to you. Back when you were dating, Jungkook only had one tattoo, his first. The part of his tattooed arm that you can see looks actually very good, it definitely suits him very well. But what really captivates all your attention is how broader he has become. You can perfectly see his toned figure. There’s no doubt that he has been working out a lot for the past years.
“I first wanted to apologize for everything, including how I treated you before we broke up and following the breakup,” you start saying.
Jungkook nods with a very serious look on his face. “I appreciate it,” he says. He bites his lower lip, holding back what he really wants to say but then, he remembers that there’s absolutely no point in holding back what he’s been dreaming to tell you since the breakup. “But a simple apology ten years later can’t brush away all the pain you put me through.”
At his words, your heart breaks even more. It’s one thing to imagine and believe that you deeply hurt him but it’s totally another thing to hear him say it. But you deserve to hear that. Before you weren’t strong enough to hear it but now you are. Well, it’s definitely going to hurt but you’ll be able to handle it better.
“I know but you still deserve an apology for everything I did to you,” you answer. “You didn’t deserve any of this and I’m sincerely and deeply sorry.”
This is something you truly mean. You’re perfectly aware that you did things completely wrong so before anything else, he deserves to hear that you’re sorry.
Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair while closing for a brief moment his eyes. He never thought that he’d hear those words one day and he definitely never thought he’d need to hear them. His life moved on even though he didn’t get to have your apology. Right now, it feels like he’s being violently pushed back in the past but he definitely needs this moment. He needs to understand what happened ten years ago.
Even though he loves Lux with his entire soul, he refused to put her in an awkward position and never asked her anything. Of course, he’s aware that she knows everything but it wouldn’t have been nice of him to ask her anything about you. The person who needed to explain what happened was you. Nobody else but you.
“You broke me, yn,” he says with a shaky voice. “You broke me in a way nobody else did before and in a way nobody else ever did after you.”
Although you broke him, he still feels safe near you to tell you the full truth. You’re the only person that has ever made him feel that way and he knows he’ll never find this with anyone else.
Your eyes roam at his face, he’s definitely devastated. He can’t fool anyone, it’s written in his eyes. That definitely destroys you even more. This conversation will for sure leave his print in you. There’s no way that after this your life will be the same.
“My daughter is living proof of how much you destroyed me,” his eyes stare deep into yours. “I wanted to forget my own pain and the only way I could was to fuck any girl who would want it. I don’t even remember the day Arya was made because I was completely blinded by my heartache.”
The fact that he can’t remember the day his daughter was conceived made him cry a lot of times. In those moments, he deeply hates you because if you had never broken him that way, he would remember. But then he rationalizes. Without the breakup and the pain, his daughter wouldn’t even exist.
“Even today the ache is still unbearable but I got used to it,” he finishes.
Well, it’s the same for you. There’s been so much pain in your life for more than ten years but with time, you got used to it. There were also people that eased it in some way but it has never left you.
“I’m so sorry for everything,” you say once again, “but I was in so much pain back then, and I thought it was best to push you away.”
Jungkook’s heart breaks a little because he knows a bit about what happened. Well, he actually knows the thing that tormented you but he also doesn’t have the full picture.
“My sister‘s death devastated me,” you start saying.
At your words, his heart breaks a little more. Jungkook had the opportunity to meet your sister, he got to be around her and create memories with her. She was a beautiful person, she was funny, full of life and always smiling. Tragically, she lost her life in a terrible car accident with her boyfriend. He still remembers when you got the news, he was the one holding you when you fell on the floor, when your world fell apart. After that moment, you never were the same. To say that it broke you is more than an understatement. A part of you stopped shining as before following the passing of your sister.
“My heart was violently ripped from my chest,” tears start forming in your eyes. “I didn’t know who I was without her, I didn’t know how to keep living without her. Going home without her being there anymore was heartbreaking, I’d fall apart every single time.”
Remembering that very dark period is hard for the two of you. Mourning your sister has been a very long process, it took you years before you were able to speak about her without falling apart. Exceptionally, being with Jungkook makes you vulnerable and it’s making it hard to remember that time of your life.
“Although you were there, I wanted to do my grieving on my own because it was mine,” you tell him. “It was overwhelming but it was my pain, not yours so I was the one who needed to learn to live with it because nobody could do that for me.”
Even if you loved him with your entire soul and knew he’d always be by your side, this was something you needed to do by yourself. Having Jungkook by your side was just distracting you, it was making you forget the pain but you weren’t allowing yourself to feel which was what you needed.
“So I started pushing you back because with you around me, I would just think about you and how you were feeling, I wasn’t focusing on myself.”
Despite the fact that it hurts him that you pushed him away a few months after the tragic death of your sister, today he gets why you did it. He wanted to be there and help you when you needed it the most but he’s understanding that it was your grief and you needed to figure out on your own how to deal with it.
“Around that time, I don’t know if you recall but I kissed a guy at a party,” you tell him.
Jungkook nods. That kiss was what really crushed your relationship. Things weren’t the same after you confessed you had kissed a guy. It was a guy you had a crush on before you met Jungkook, you deeply wanted to date him but things never happened because he was in a relationship with a girl. Back when it happened, he was having a hard time with his ex. You were such at a low point in your life, you were completely drunk and he was there, being nice to you.
Instantly, you regretted what you did. Jungkook was a sweetheart with you, always there by your side even when you were pushing him away. He loved you with his entire heart and you were destroying everything. But most importantly, you were hurting the person you loved the most.
“I felt even worse after cheating on you,” you add.
Your ex doesn’t say anything, he’d like to say over again that he never considered that kiss as cheating. He still doesn’t because cheating to him goes further than a kiss. Cheating is seeing someone, talking to that person regularly, flirting with them, and having sex with them. For him, a simple kiss isn’t cheating. But that wasn’t your opinion. You saw that as cheating.
“I started hating myself for what I did to you, I wasn’t able to look at myself in the mirror and I wasn’t able to be with you, pretending like nothing happened,” a tear starts running down your face. “That little voice in my head was telling me over and over again that I wasn’t worthy of your love, that I actually never was.”
Things start to make a little more sense to Jungkook. You were at a very low point in your life, you were making a mess and you were not feeling lovable anymore.
“I had forgiven you for the kiss, I told you over again that to me, it wasn’t cheating what you did,” he explains again with a visible ache in his eyes. “It was a simple kiss and I don’t consider that as cheating.”
You look away, tears running down your face. Life was tough back then and you’re ashamed of everything you did back then. Pushing Jungkook away was for sure the best decision you took back then. There’s no doubt you would have hurt him way more and he wouldn’t deserve it.
“I never deserved your love, Jungkook,” you confess. “I knew you’d forgive me and I was not deserving of that forgiveness at that time. I was hurting you over and over again and you didn’t deserve that, you were worthy of all the love in the world which I wasn’t able to give you back then.”
For sure, he understands your reasons but man, he would have preferred you told him all this ten years ago. Probably, it wouldn’t have avoided the breakup but maybe, things would have been completely different.
“I was so disgusted by myself,” you add.
Jungkook gets closer to you, his hand grabs your chin before slowly and carefully turning your face to look at him. Hearing how hard you were on yourself saddens him more than you can imagine. There’s no need in being disgusted by yourself. What you did was wrong, he did feel disrespected but he thinks that you’re being a bit too harsh on yourself.
“At some point, I even felt like I did that to be a ‘good’ girl for my parents,” your eyes look deep into his.
It was no secret that your parents weren’t supporters of your relationship. They were nice to him but they never believed he was the right one for you and they also didn’t like him that much. They were always saying that he wasn’t treating you right when at the very end, you were the one not treating him right. But they accepted him because you were staying with him and defending him whenever they would say something negative about him. Clearly after 2 years of relationship, they didn’t have much choice than accept it. However, after your sister’s passing, they started being less hard on him because he was there for all of you.
“Your parents never liked me,” a little smile appears on his face. “But it was understandable, I was kind of a fuckboy before meeting you and I was still looking like one during our relationship.”
That is true but it wasn’t right the way they treated him. You weren’t asking them to actually like him but to accept him and respect him. Being with him was your choice and they had to respect that. If he wasn’t the right person for you, it’d be up to you to understand it, not them.
“That was not an excuse though,” you answer.
The man in front of you nods, his thumb caressing your chin. It’s definitely strange for the two of you to feel his fingers touching your skin. It seems like it was a lifetime ago since you last touched each other.
“This is what…”
Before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook’s eyes look to the right when you both hear little footsteps. As he looks to the right, you turn your face in the same direction. A little girl, wearing a large yellow t-shirt with matching shorts, is staring at the two of you with visible confusion. She’s holding in her little hands a drawing. Her father immediately stands up to reach her.
“Daddy, who is her?” she asks her father.
Jungkook gets down on his knees to be at her level. His hands gently caress her little shoulders in a way to try to comfort her.
“She’s an old friend of mine,” he starts saying to Arya. “We were friends a very long time ago and she visited me today.”
She nods, her little eyes looking at you. You give her a little smile. She’s absolutely adorable. There’s absolutely no doubt she’s Jungkook’s daughter but she isn’t a mini copy of him. She’s still a lot different than him, at least that’s what you think.
“Would you go say ‘hello’ to her?” he tells his daughter.
Once more, she nods before slowly walking to you. Seeing this little girl reminds you of how deeply you want a child of your own. However, it feels like it’s not going to happen any time soon. You still need to find a man who you’ll fall in love with and whom you'd like to start a family with. But at this pace, you won't have children until you're 40.
“Hello, I am Arya,” she says with a little smile. “My daddy is Jangkoo.”
The way she pronounces her father’s name makes you smile and makes your heart melt. She’s so cute, that’s something she definitely inherited from her father. Your ex smiles as well when he hears his little girl speaking.
“Hey, Arya,” you say with a big smile. “It’s a pleasure meeting you. My name is Yn.”
Jungkook watches the two of you interact together. That’s for sure something he never thought he’d witness in his life. Technically, if his daughter wouldn’t have come up to the living room, the chance of meeting her would be actually very low.
“Is that a drawing you’re holding in your hands?” You ask her.
She nods before showing you with pride her drawing.
“This is dadda,” she tells you while showing you an apparent man.
“It definitely looks a lot like him, you’re very talented Arya,” you tell her.
She instantly smiles brightly at you, she spent a lot of time drawing her father so she’s super proud to hear that. Of course, outside the colors of his outfit and the ‘dadda’ written on top of his head, it’s hard to tell that it’s him but the most important is her intention.
“Dadda is at home with me and we are eating pancakes,” she explains while showing her representation of eating pancakes with her father.
This definitely melts your heart. Now, you’re a hundred percent sure that Jungkook is the best father to this little girl. She won the lottery with him, and she definitely knows it, you can tell it. She speaks with so much pride about her father, he’s her superhero.
While speaking with his little girl, you totally forget the rest. It’s like there’s just you and her. Even Jungkook disappeared although you were here in the first place to talk to him. But this girl is absolutely adorable and she doesn’t seem shy at all.
Jungkook watches with marvell the two of you interacting together. He has never seen Arya behaving this way around anybody else. That convinces him even more that you’re the one. It can’t be anybody else but you. There’s for sure a lot more that needs to be discussed between the two of you but as he’s watching you with his daughter, he can’t keep but wondering if ten years ago, he fell in love with you at the wrong time. Would today be the right time to try again?
For the past week, you and Jungkook have been occasionally talking by messages. After meeting his daughter, you exchanged numbers before leaving his place. It was weird but you’ve been happier than ever talking with him. Of course, it has been making you nervous and anxious because it has brought back a lot of the pain you felt around the time you broke up.
But you’ve been trying to just go with the flow. This is hard for the two of you, you’re very aware of it. Everything is different but at the same time, still the same.
Outside the talking through messages, you haven’t spoken to or seen him which you believe has been helpful. Being around him would have made you even more nervous. For sure, there’s more to talk about since you were interrupted by his daughter but you need more time to prepare yourself for the rest of the conversation.
Today is saturday. You’re chilling at home, watching ‘The Cown’ on Netflix. Although you adore going out with friends, you also enjoy staying at home to rest, especially after a tough week at work like this past week was. You’re drinking a cappuccino that you prepared a couple of minutes ago.
The doorbell rings which surprises you a lot. You’re definitely not expecting anyone today. The plan is to absolutely avoid seeing people but to enjoy your own company. It's a self-care day. You put your cappuccino on the coffee table before standing up to open the door.
To your surprise, as you open the door, Jungkook appears before your eyes. Your eyes open wide as you see him, to say that it’s a surprise is an understatement. He was the last person you’d expect to see here because he doesn’t know where you live. Well, at least, that’s what you thought.
“Hi,” you finally say.
A little smile appears on his face when he sees you. He’s happy to see you, he’s been avoiding you at all costs because he was more than scared to finish the conversation you started at his place.
“Hi, Yn,” he says to you.
Hearing his voice instantly appeases you. That’s the superpower of Jungkook. Well, that’s one amongst others. That deep voice of his always had a comforting effect on you, but a hug in his strong arms would always be even more comforting. All your worries would disappear instantly and it would warm your heart in a way that you can’t even describe.
“Come on in,” you answer as you invite him inside.
The best is that no one that works with you sees your boss in front of your place. That would cause a lot of unnecessary drama at work. Something that you want to avoid. It’s already not easy to have your ex as your boss. Jungkook enters your little apartment, his eyes looking around him.
“How did you get my address?”
This question brings you back to when you appear at his place.
“You’re my employee, it’s easy to find all your personal data,” he simply answers.
Well, in fact, in 2 clicks, he found your address. That’s the perk of being the CEO of the company and having you as his employee.
“Right,” you say with a little smile. “Take a seat on the couch,” you invite him to sit down. “Would you like to drink or eat something?” you propose.
“No, thanks,” he replies.
Jungkook sits down on your couch, and you take a place next to him but you both face each other. As you quickly look at him, you can’t help but notice the way his eyes are glomming. He’s different, something has definitely changed.
“Listen,” Jungkook doesn’t waste a minute. “Talking to you last week was very good and helpful.”
You nod, your heart beating a little faster in your chest and your hands getting sweatier. The nervousness is increasing like crazy, your place is getting hotter but you need to listen to what he has to say.
“Talking to you got me to understand how you were feeling and I’m very thankful for that,” he adds.
You can sense that there is a ‘but’ coming. He wouldn’t come to just thank you for everything you said a week ago. There are 10 years of pain inside his heart and that can’t be erased with a simple ‘thank you’.
“But that was a conversation we were supposed to have years ago, not now.”
He’s totally right, this is something you should have talked about right after the breakup. This almost feels like it’s too late. Back then, you were in no state to have this conversation. It wouldn’t have been constructive, it would have only been you accusing him of small things that he did throughout your relationship. That wouldn’t have helped any of you and Jungkook would have ended up hating you more. More pain wasn’t necessary.
“I was convinced you were the one, even during the past ten years, I was still convinced about it,” he adds. “Nobody could ever make me feel half of the way you made me feel. I spent the last years looking for you in every girl I could find. I’d sleep and date a lot of girls but it’d be heartbreaking when I realized what I was doing with those girls.”
It breaks your heart even more. You were never worthy of his love, and maybe, you’ll never be. However, you still love him. You never stopped loving him and you never will because he is the love of your life. There’s no doubt about it. You’re ready to wait all the time that he needs. Even if you have to wait ten years.
“I also believe that you’re the love of my life,” you shyly reply.
Jungkook’s heart starts racing crazily in his chest. This isn’t something he was expecting to hear but he would be lying if he said that he isn’t happy to hear those words. For the past years, he was convinced that you simply stopped loving him although he was still thinking that you were the one. Call him crazy but it was a gut feeling. You can’t really ignore that kind of feeling.
The man next to you gets closer, both your hearts beating extremely fast. Something is building in the air, you both can feel it. It’s the little tension that you were so used to feeling when you were together but that has gone missing for the past ten years. So it is extremely weird and none of you knows what to do.
As a consequence, you bite your lower lip while he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to avoid looking down at your low-necked shirt. He knows that if he does look, it’ll be the end of him. But for sure, when the two of you are alone in a closed-door room, the chances that you don’t end up having sex are very low. It happened all the time during your relationship and also the day after the breakup.
However, as much as he tried looking away, your natural scent is something that has always brought him to his knees. He always adored the way you smell and it hasn’t changed since the last time he saw you. His eyes glare down at your chest, noticing instantly that you’re not using any bra. Your breast is almost fully displayed before his clearly hungry eyes. Your ex takes a deep breath.
While your eyes glance at his face, you notice the way his stare looks down on your body. It instantly excites you, and you can sense your panties getting wetter. No man has been able to cause an instant reaction like this, only Jungkook can. Your body always reacts to whatever he does. Without noticing it, both of you lick and bite your lips. The tension is making the two of you very very hungry, there’s absolutely no way you’ll resist any of this.
His fingers finally touch the skin of your chest, causing you to sigh with pleasure. They slowly but surely start tracing their way to your left breast, your eyes closing at the burning sensation of his fingers caressing your skin. Slowly, he pushes your low-cut shirt to the left, exposing your breast to his greedy eyes. Without any hesitation, he brings his mouth to your nipple to vigorously suck it. A whine instantly leaves your lips because damn, that feels beyond good.
As he sucks your nipple, he also nibbles it, causing you to moan a bit louder. His actions lead to the growing wetness inside your panties. This is fucking good. And it’s just the beginning. The torture this man will put you through for the upcoming minutes or hours will drive you completely insane. He’ll bring you down to your knees in seconds.
After a little while that felt like an eternity to you, he presses gentle kisses in between your breasts, slowly approaching your right nipple to give it the same treatment as the left one. Your hands find their way to his dark hair, tugging it while he abuses your right breast. Right now, you’re in complete ecstasy.
Before you can even comprehend what is happening, Jungkook is undressing you, leaving you completely naked on the couch. In no time, he’s naked as well with a condom on his hands. Your eyes inevitably look down at his cock. His massive cock. To be honest, you had forgotten how big it was but damn, you absolutely don’t want to wait to feel it inside you. He quickly put the condom on before placing himself in between your legs.
Jungkook touches your intimate area to feel how wet you are.
“Damn, you’re so wet,” he whispers.
Even if you’re extremely wet, he knows that wouldn’t be enough before penetrating you. It’ll still hurt you if he just goes and he definitely doesn’t want to cause any pain to you. He wants this moment to only bring tremendous pleasure to both of you. So he decides to tease you with his cock, rubbing it against your inner lips. Moans flow from your mouth as you feel the overwhelming pleasure growing inside your body. Right now, it seems like you haven’t been touched properly in years. And even if Jungkook has already made love to you millions of times when you were together, everything feels extremely different.
“Shit, I want to fuck you so bad, yn,” he whines.
“Me too, Jungkook,” you reply.
With everything happening at the moment, it’s almost impossible for you to form a proper sentence. All you know is that you’re desperate to have sex with this man. Your moans are the actual proof of it.
After what appears like an eternity for you, he buries his thick cock inside your soaked core, stretching your velvety walls. His large hands find their way to your waist, caressing your soft skin while his doe eyes filled with lust look into yours. Both of you groan as he slowly pushes his long and thick cock inside you.
“So fucking good,” you mumble as your eyes roll back.
The feeling of having him inside you and filling you up to the brim is something you did miss a lot. Although you had sex with a lot of different guys over the past years, Jungkook does it very differently but in a very good way. And it’s just the beginning. But honestly, you have a crazily immense sexual drive. You haven’t really been a saint since you last saw your ex, that is currently on top of you. All men that flirted with you and ended up in your bed have actually loved your wild sexual appetite.
Your ex leans closer, pushing his cock a bit deeper inside you and snatching a loud moan out of you.
“You’re absolutely sexy, baby,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “So sexy that I want to fuck you all day long,” his deep voice groans in your ear.
His teeth bite your earlobe before his tongue licks your ear. A deep moan leaves your lips while you feel yourself grow even wetter. This man knows exactly how to bring you down on your knees for him. And you don’t even want to start on the effect of his filthy words said with his deep voice on you.
“Then do it,” you dare to say as you want to push him to go absolutely wild today.
Jungkook is a man. Usually, men adore being pushed and they’ll fuck you just the way you want. Today, you want him to be rough with you. You want him to fuck you until all you know is to scream his name. You want all the neighbors to know how good your ex makes you feel. You want him to come inside the condom again and again until none of you can handle it anymore.
“I already plan to do it, princess,” he pulls back a bit to look you in the eyes, and a smirk arises on his face. “Tomorrow you won’t even be able to walk at all.”
You desire nothing more than this. To be completely sore and swollen down there.
“You have absolutely no idea of all the things I desire to do to you,” he presses a gentle kiss on your cheek. “You’ll beg me to never stop,” he adds.
Jungkook slowly pushes back, only leaving the tip of his cock inside you. His eyes never leave your figure, watching you moan under him. That’s a sound he loves, and he missed it a lot. He dreamed of this a lot since the last time you had sex.
“Then, show me no mercy, Jungkook,” you answer.
A smirk appears on his face, satisfied to hear you say those words. Damn, he wants nothing more than to drive you completely crazy.
Brutally, he pushes his cock fully inside you, and a loud moan leaves your lips. For a little while, he doesn't move, hovering over you and watching you with delight. His eyes look down on your body. For sure, your body is different than it was ten years ago but you’re still absolutely stunning. Your skin is still very soft like he remember it was.
For the two of you, this seems like something totally new while being something very familiar. It’s quite odd but it feels good. Sex usually feels good, the two of you can say it out of experience. Jungkook groans as he watches himself buried deep inside you.
“Your cunt still takes me so fucking well, princess.”
You close your eyes, completely enjoying having him fully inside you. What you like the most about shutting down your eyes during intercourse is how you connect more to your body. With your eyes closed, you can deeply experience everything that is going on. However, it can also be extremely overwhelming, especially when the man you’re having sex with is awfully good in bed.
Once Jungkook sees that you’re ready to take more, he brutally pulls back before slamming himself back into you. The couch under you squeaks while a very deep moan escapes your lips. If he does it again, the sofa’s back is going to hit the wall and even probably destroy it. However, right now, you absolutely don’t give a shit.
Jungkook once again stops when he’s fully inside you, torturing you just to hear you begging him to fuck you. He hasn’t heard you beg for anything in years so it’s just legitimate he craves it deeply at this precise moment.
“Please,” you say grumbling, “fuck me.”
Jungkook leans closer again. “I love to hear you begging, princess,” he whispers before licking the spot just under your ear.
He pushes his cock back before slamming into you with both hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts. The slick sound of your pussy soaking his cock as well as your moans are filling the room. All those sounds remind you that you’re doing something completely nasty with your ex but damn, this is beyond amazing.
“Shit,” you gasp while he thrusts into you with no mercy, “you feel so good.”
You’re completely drunk in the feeling of his cock filling you up, his hips hitting against yours with every thrust he makes. This all causes sparks of pleasure to shoot throughout your body, your arousal dripping from your core and creaming the condom on his cock. Jungkook smirks as he notices the sticky mess you’re slowly causing. His cock is buried deep inside you, brushing against your walls that causes you to moan even louder each time. You grip the couch as hard as possible to steady yourself from Jungkook’s hard thrusts, but it definitely is an impossible mission.
“You’re so fucking wet, baby girl,” he hisses before biting his lower lip. His hands press harder into your skin when he feels your walls tighten around him. “And making such a mess on my cock.”
Every time he pushes his hips back, he watches with delight the way the condom is completely covered with your arousal. Nothing drives him crazier than seeing this, you can see it in his eyes.
“You love it, don’t you?” You ask him. His doe eyes look up at you, and they are filled with lust, making you shiver as they look at you.
Jungkook bends down, pressing a sloppy kiss on your lips while his thrusts slow down. A desperate whine gushes from you, a sound that he instantly swallows. His hands move up on your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them to make you moan with desire before his fingers start playing with your nipples. Moans flood out of your mouth as your ex keeps torturing your body at a slow pace. Your hands irresistibly grab his hair, tugging it as much as possible.
“It feels so good,” you whine, “fuck, Kook.”
The nickname surprises both of you but it left your lips in the heat of the moment. For sure, it’ll be the only time you’ll say it, at least for now. But it warms his heart to hear you call him by this nickname.
His thrusts are slow and harsh again, and his fingers on your nipples are just too much for you. They are extremely sensitive but it’s absolutely normal. Once someone starts playing with them, they just get sensitive and it just brings a lot of delight to you.
Gradually, Jungkook begins to thrust hard into you again, and you moan at the feeling of his brutal thrust. Your walls suck his cock as he slams his hips into you with more force. His fingers keep playing with your very sensitive nipples, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It’s clear that he knows how to drive somebody crazy.
His eyes look at you, completely contorted with pleasure as it slowly builds within you. Your moans are getting louder, you’re not one to hold back or stifle your groans because that’s for sure an indicator to Jungkook of how good he’s making you feel and if he’s doing things well.
“Moan louder, baby,” he says as he goes deeper and harder to make you scream with pleasure. He loves it so damn much.
His hands can feel the way your body quivers with each thrust. The way he’s torturing your body is only making you lose yourself further but damn, you haven’t been fucked this way ever in your life. This is magical, your entire body has completely surrendered to this man.
“Fuck,” he groans when he feels the warmth of your walls wrapping tighter around him. “Your cunt is clenching so hard, baby.”
The sweat is dampening his body, sticking his long hair to his face. That vision alone can make you come undone right now. As you stare at him, you can’t help but think how lucky you are to be doing this right now. His eyes stare down at you with passion and lust as his tongue licks his lower lips. He keeps growling your name, thrusting into you with more urgency each time.
“Fuck,” you say as you move your hips to meet his thrust.
Jungkook leans forward, pressing another sloppy kiss on your lips. He’s been enjoying sensing your lips on his, even if the kiss is a disaster. Currently, all he craves is you, and in any way. Your eyes never cease to look at him, he’s mesmerizing and incredibly hot. Man, he’s even hotter than he was years ago. You bite your bottom lip as you admire him.
“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He asks, and you nod.
All you want right now is to do as he wishes and you’re also very close to exploding due to all the pleasure he’s causing. But Jungkook wants to hear you begging to come, he wants to know how badly you want to come.
“Use your words, baby girl.”
His fingers pinch your nipples harder, making the wave of pleasure grow bigger inside you. A loud moan escapes your lips.
“I want to come,” you manage to say, “I wanna come so-so bad.”
Jungkook feels his cock twitching inside of you, a low groan rumbling in his throat as you practically beg him to let you come. He smirks like he has won the award for the best fuck of the year. One of his hands slowly goes down on your body, passing your stomach, and landing on your throbbing clit. His fingers start to rub your sensitive spot as his cock keeps hitting your sensitive walls.
“Beg for it, baby girl,” he says.
His fingers show no mercy on your clit, and you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to beg for anything before coming. You’re a complete mess right now, and you’ve completely surrendered to the overwhelming sensations you’re experiencing.
“Please, Kook,” you manage to say.
With the way he’s torturing you, you can’t even form a proper sentence. You actually can’t even think at all, outside the fact that you love what Jungkook is doing to you.
“Tell me, baby girl,” he keeps teasing you with a smirk on his face.
For sure, he would have loved to experience other positions with you for more pleasure. But this is just the beginning. He’ll let you come now and later, he’ll torture you with other sex positions. He won’t leave you alone today, that he’s sure about.
“Let me come.”
His smirk grows bigger on his face, happy to have you begging him to come. Teasing you is something that he’s enjoying a lot. The wave of pleasure inside you is growing bigger and bigger, becoming way too overwhelming. You’re moaning like a mess, but at this stage, you couldn’t care less.
“Do it, princess, come for me.”
Those words are what you needed to hear to let go of everything. Instantly, the wave of pleasure that was growing inside of you violently hits you, making you come hard around him. Your arousal totally covers the condom on his cock and your walls squeeze him over and over again.
While you’re completely euphoric from your orgasm, he speeds up the pace of his hips slamming into you, wanting to chase his own high. He’s aware that in a matter of seconds, he’ll burst into the condom. Breathy whines escape his pretty lips as he looks down at the mess you made. His eyes are completely hypnotized where your bodies meet.
It doesn’t take him too long to be hit by his own orgasm, desperate moans leaving his mouth when it happens. His eyes roll back with pleasure as his body tenses up and releases his load inside the condom, loud cries of euphoria leaving his lips.
You move a bit on the couch to leave him some room to lie down. There’s not a lot of place for the two of you on the couch next to each other.
“Maybe you can rest on top of me,” he suggests as he removes the condom from his cock.
You simply nod while standing up to let him rest how ever he wants on the couch. The second he’s well installed, you rest on top of him, your head against his chest. His beating heart rocks you, his strong arms holding you tight against him. For a little while, none of you speaks. His hands caress your body which soothes you after this wild moment.
“Once we really calm down from this ecstatic sex, would you like to go on a date with me?” Jungkook asks.
#bts#bts imagine#bts imagines#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook imagine#bts angst#jungkook angst#bts fluff#jungkook fluff#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#wrong time#timing series#spideyjimin
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VOODOO DOLL II T.N
summary: theo can’t get you out of his head. which could only mean you put a spell on him. or loosely based on a song
warnings: mean theo, language, hurt/comfort l WC 3.4k
authors note: fourth time trying to post this so let’s see how that goes
“She’s not going to magically appear if you keep staring at her table,” Mattheo muttered, irritation clear in his tone. Theo scoffed but kept his gaze fixed on the empty spot at the Gryffindor table.
Theo couldn’t stand you. That’s what he told anyone who would listen—you were too nice, too annoying, and every little thing you did got on his nerves.
The way you helped anyone in need, no matter if they treated you unfairly in the past. How you smiled at everyone and everything. Always in a good mood, when Theo couldn’t fathom why.
“Good morning, guys! Did you finish the Arithmancy homework from yesterday?” Your cheerful voice cut through his thoughts, nearly making him jump. Speak of the devil, he thought bitterly.
Theo rolled his eyes at your question. “Forgot again, or just getting lazier?” he sneered.
But your smile didn’t waver; if anything, it grew brighter. “Actually, I just need help with sections 6 and 8. I stayed up all night and still couldn’t figure them out!”
He couldn’t understand why you always talked to them—why you always acted so friendly with the rivals of your house. Maybe that was another reason he couldn’t stand you; it felt like you were deliberately trying to get under their skin.
“Sucks to be—” Mattheo began, but Theo jabbed his elbow into his side, cutting him off with a sharp look.
“Just here, take my paper,” he grumbled, pulling out his parchment and thrusting it toward you. Your fingers brushed his briefly, and Theo jerked his hand back as a tingling sensation shot through him.
“Thanks, Theodore!” you beamed, practically skipping back to your table, which only irritated Theo more.
“What the hell was that?” Mattheo demanded.
“Fuck if I know. I couldn’t stop myself,” Theo muttered. “I wanted to tell her to piss off and figure it out on her own.” He scowled, shoving his food away, his appetite suddenly gone.
“Maybe she’s got you under some spell, Nott,” Draco chuckled. “Drink anything suspicious lately?”
“Shut up, Malfoy,” Theo snapped, the idea unsettling him. The thought of you having that kind of influence over him was ridiculous.
He could still feel the ghost of your touch, as if you were still caressing his hand, even though you were now back at your table, tongue out in concentration as you scribbled down the answers.
“Don’t get why she didn’t just ask Granger for help,” Lorenzo chimed in, mouth full of food.
“Because Hermione wouldn’t just give her the answers. She’d explain it step by step—which she doesn’t have time for—since it’s her next class,” Theo replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
The boys exchanged knowing smirks. “And how exactly do you know that?” Blaise teased.
Theo realized how that sounded, but before he could defend himself, you reappeared to hand him his paper back.
“You’re a lifesaver, Theodore! I owe you one,” you said, squeezing his bicep in appreciation before heading off to class early as ever.
“Yeah, whatever,” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the lingering warmth of your touch, the burning sensation in his chest, and the rapid beat of his heart whenever you were near.
Once you were out of sight, his heart began to slow, but a different ache settled in. It was almost like he missed you—which was ridiculous. He shook the thought from his mind immediately.
Maybe someone did slip him something; whether it was a prank or an accidental slip-up, he had to get rid of it, and fast.
———
Days passed, and Theo only felt worse. He constantly thought you were nearby, even when he knew you were in a different class on the other side of the school. Your touch was ingrained in his mind, as if he could still feel you. Some days, it felt like you were right next to him, invading his personal space, only for him to see you across the field, chatting with your friends.
His friends were no help when he mentioned it. They just teased him endlessly on having a crush on a Gryffindor, which he quickly shot down.
You were an annoyance. Someone who bugged the hell out of him, and that was it—nothing more.
To make matters worse, you both got paired up in Muggle Studies. A class he took just to piss off his dad was now backfiring spectacularly.
The assignment was to write an essay about what Muggles believed to be ‘witchcraft,’ which seemed simple enough—if only he didn’t have to work with you.
“Okay so I was thinking of voodoo dolls, because I think others are gonna pick psychics or magicians,” you started, flipping through some pages of your textbook, “and I think we could get extra points if we somehow have a physical doll!”
He could feel your excitement radiating off of you and it was nauseating but he nodded and agreed. You went on and said you would send an owl to your mother to see if she could buy one from the shops in your hometown.
Theo barely paid attention as you rambled on about your plans for the essay. The way you spoke with so much enthusiasm, your eyes bright with excitement—it was almost unbearable. Not because it annoyed him, but because it made his chest tighten in a way he wasn’t ready to confront.
“Do you even care about this project?” you asked suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. You were watching him with a hint of concern in your eyes, which only made him feel more unsettled.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I care about passing,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “But I don’t see why you’re so invested in it.”
You shrugged, the usual brightness in your expression dimming a little. “I just think it’s interesting, that’s all. And maybe…” You hesitated, then added, “I thought it’d be nice to work with you.”
Theo blinked, caught off guard by your honesty. His initial reaction was to snap back with a sarcastic comment, to push you away as he always did. But something stopped him.
“Why?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself.
You looked down, fiddling with your quill. “I don’t know. You’re different from most people, Theodore. You’re not afraid to be yourself, even if that means being a little rough around the edges.”
He stared at you, stunned into silence. Was that how you saw him? And why did it make his heart skip a beat? He could feel his defenses cracking, the walls he’d built so carefully starting to crumble.
“Anyway,” you said quickly, as if embarrassed by your admission, “I’ll let you know if my mom finds a voodoo doll. We can meet up later to go over the details?”
“Yeah… sure,” he replied, his voice sounding far away. He watched as you gathered your things, flashing him another bright smile before leaving the classroom.
Once you were gone, Theo let out a frustrated groan, slumping back in his chair. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let anyone get under his skin like this before. Yet, with you, it was like he had no control over his own emotions. There was something wrong with him.
The thought of you saying he was “different” kept replaying in his mind. It wasn’t an insult, but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. He hated the idea that you could have this effect on him.
As the days went on, he found himself increasingly distracted by you. The way you laughed with your friends, the way you focused on your studies, the way you went out of your way to be kind to everyone—even to him, despite how he treated you.
The next time you met to work on the project, Theo couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to your hands as you gestured animatedly, explaining some new idea you had. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those hands touch him again—whether by accident or design.
When you handed him a book, he purposely brushed his fingers against yours and once more, he felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. But this time, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let the contact linger for just a moment longer, savoring the warmth that spread through him.
But as soon as the moment passed, he cursed himself silently. He couldn’t let this happen. You were a Gryffindor, and you represented everything he claimed to hate—yet, here he was, drawn to you like a moth to a flame.
“Is something wrong?” you asked, noticing his distant expression.
“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smirk. “Just thinking about how ridiculous this project is. Muggles and their superstitions.”
You laughed, and the sound sent another pang through his chest. “It is pretty silly, isn’t it? But it’s kind of fascinating too, don’t you think?”
Theo shrugged, playing it cool. “Sure, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“I am,” you said with a grin. “But maybe by the end of this, you will be too.”
He rolled his eyes, but there was no real malice behind it. “Don’t count on it.”
As you continued working, Theo found himself glancing at you more often, watching the way your lips moved as you spoke, the way your eyes lit up when you got excited about something.
After the study session, Theo left with an unfamiliar smile tugging at his lips, lost in thoughts of you. He was so preoccupied that he didn’t notice Mattheo approaching from behind in the hallway.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Mattheo said, his voice laced with curiosity. “What’s with the grin? Did you win a fight?”
Theo scoffed, quickly wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with his usual scowl. “Salazar’s sake, no, I wasn’t in a fight.”
“Then why are you so happy? Snog someone? Wait—don’t tell me, did you snog Bug?” Mattheo teased, his tone dripping with mockery, fully aware of how much Theo loathed that nickname recently.
“Stop calling her that,” Theo snapped, shaking Mattheo’s arm off and feeling his good mood souring by the second.
“Oh, since when do you come to her defense? Especially when you’re the one who started calling her that,” Mattheo retorted, raising an eyebrow. The nickname had been an impulsive jab, something Theo came up with in a moment of annoyance. Now, it felt like a cruel joke.
Ignoring Mattheo, Theo continued down the hallway toward the Slytherin dorms, determined to work on his portion of the essay. But Mattheo wasn’t ready to let it go.
Once they reached the Slytherin common room, Mattheo seized the opportunity to stir the pot. “Hey, guys, doesn’t Theo seem a little… different lately?” he announced, adopting an exaggerated infomercial voice. “We barely see him, and when we do, he’s actually smiling.”
Theo halted in his tracks, irritation bubbling up inside him.
“I noticed that too,” Pansy chimed in, her tone dripping with curiosity. “He’s been sneaking off a lot.”
“Yeah, what’s the deal, Nott?” Blaise added, his voice teasing. “Too good for us now?”
Theo rolled his eyes, adjusting the stack of books you had recommended in his arms. “I’ve just been busy, you know—actually doing schoolwork.”
“Sure, and by ‘schoolwork,’ you mean hanging out with Bug,” Draco chimed in, his grin widening. “I thought you couldn’t stand her?”
“You lot are a bunch of tossers,” Theo shot back, his patience wearing thin. “Yes, I’ve been working with her because we got paired up for a project. That’s all.”
They exchanged skeptical glances, sensing there was more to the story.
“What’s the project about?” Pansy asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Theo let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s an essay on Voodoo dolls for Muggle Studies.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Mattheo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Voodoo dolls? Are you serious, Theo? You’re supposed to be the smart one here!”
Theo frowned, confused by Mattheo’s sudden outburst. “What the hell are you on about now?”
“Voodoo dolls, you daft git!” Mattheo exclaimed, practically jumping out of his seat. “They’re Muggles’ way of trying to control people! Haven’t you been paying attention? She might have one of you—that’s probably why you’ve been acting so strange!”
Theo stared at Mattheo, a mix of annoyance and unease settling in. The idea was absurd—yet the possibility gnawed at him. Was that really what was happening? It would make a lot of sense.
Theo dropped everything and bolted out of the common room, his mind racing as he stormed through the castle. The further he went, the angrier he became. How could you do this to him? He thought he was finally feeling something other than disdain toward you—only to find out you were messing with his head.
As he rounded the final corner near the Gryffindor common room, he spotted you. But you weren’t alone. You were talking to another Gryffindor, laughing that same laugh you shared with him. The sight made his blood boil, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“Was messing with my head not enough for you?” Theo shouted, his voice filled with fury. “Did you need more attention, so you found another tosser to add to your list?”
You flinched at his sudden outburst but didn’t immediately turn to face him. You quietly excused yourself from the conversation with your housemate before turning to glare at Theo.
The look you gave him was like nothing he’d ever seen on your face before—cold, angry, and so unlike the usual warmth you radiated. It unnerved him to be on the receiving end of such a glare.
“Can I help you, Nott?” you asked, your voice eerily calm. If Theo had been less blinded by his own anger, he might have noticed the tension in your jaw and the way your fists clenched at your sides.
“Yes, you can start by telling me what the hell you did to me!” Theo took a step closer, looming over you in an attempt to intimidate, but you stood your ground, unfazed.
“I haven’t done anything—”
“Don’t lie to me!” Theo interrupted, his hands gripping your shoulders as if shaking you might jog your memory. “You came up with that stupid voodoo doll project, and ever since then, you’ve been in my head day in and day out! So don’t act like you don’t know what’s going on!”
You shoved him off you, your scoff laced with disbelief and hurt. “You’re so full of yourself, Nott. Do you really think I’d waste my time controlling you? What kind of person do you think I am? Do you honestly believe I’m that desperate for attention?”
Tears of frustration welled up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his accusation hurt. “Fuck you, Nott. Maybe you should take a hard look at yourself instead of blaming me for the fact that you’re finally feeling something—anything—other than that cold, emotionless shell you’ve built around yourself.”
Theo stood there, speechless, as you turned and disappeared behind the Fat Lady’s portrait. Every word you said hit him like a punch to the gut. He knew you were right—he’d been pushing people away for so long that he didn’t know how to deal with real emotions. But hearing it from you, someone he had started to care about, hurt more than he could admit. He knew he owed you an apology, but he had no idea where to start.
The walk back to the Slytherin common room was humiliating. When he entered, his friends were in the same spots, waiting with anticipation.
“Well?” Mattheo asked impatiently, a smug grin on his face like he knew he was right all along.
“You lot are absolute wankers,” Theo muttered, snatching up the books he had dropped earlier without sparing them a second glance. He stormed up to his dorm room, ignoring their confused looks.
He had to find a way to make things right with you. The ache in his chest wasn’t just the usual discomfort he felt around you—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t ignore.
———
Theo spent the entire night poring over the books you had lent him. As he read, he realized Mattheo’s theory was complete nonsense. None of the feelings he had for you had anything to do with “voodoo” or any other magical influence. They were real, and they terrified him.
Determined to fix the mess he had made, Theo stayed up to finish the entire essay by himself, lightening your workload. He even turned it in first thing in the morning, two days before the assignment was due.
He spent the rest of the day trying to find you to let you know you didn’t have to worry about the project and to apologize, but you were nowhere to be found. He searched the Great Hall, the library, and even, with great reluctance, asked Potter if he had seen you. No luck.
By the time dinner rolled around, Theo was too distracted to eat. His fork aimlessly pushed food around his plate while his head rested on his palm. Enzo jabbed him in the side, snapping him out of his daze. Theo shot him a glare but followed Enzo’s gaze to see you walking past their table without so much as a glance in their direction. When you sat down at your table, your eyes instinctively met Theo’s, and for a brief moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something softer. He offered a small smile, but you rolled your eyes and turned back to your friends.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anything but cheerful. She must be pissed that we figured her out, huh?” Enzo commented, eliciting a few laughs from the group.
Theo’s fork clattered onto his plate, the loud noise silencing them immediately. They had seen Theo angry before, but never like this, never directed at them.
“Do you ever think about anyone other than yourselves?” Theo snapped. “She didn’t do anything wrong. What’s wrong is that I listened to you lot and screwed everything up.”
He abruptly stood and made his way over to you. You furrowed your brows in confusion, aware that Slytherins didn’t usually venture to the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. The hushed whispers that followed Theo didn’t faze him; he only cared about setting things right.
He leaned down and whispered in your ear, asking you to follow him. Despite your better judgment, curiosity got the better of you, and you found yourself following him out of the Great Hall.
Theo led you to a secluded hallway, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure privacy. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment before finally speaking.
“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice heavy with regret. “I was an absolute tosser. You were right—I’ve never felt anything like this before, and it scared me. I tried to find every excuse to deny it, and in the process, I lashed out at you. I shouldn’t have accused you of something so ridiculous.”
You stared at him, your silence unnerving him. He continued, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know there’s no excuse for what I said, and I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. But if there’s any chance, I’d like to start over. I’ll do anything to make it right.”
Maybe it was because you had started liking Theo too, or maybe it was the sincerity in his apology, but it wasn’t hard to forgive him.
“Although getting accused wasn’t ideal and did hurt, I accept your apology, Theodore,” you said, offering him a small smile—the smile he didn’t realize how much he’d missed until now.
Theo’s heart lifted at your words. “If I’m not pushing my luck… could I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?”
Theo held his breath, anxiously awaiting your response. You hesitated for a moment, the silence stretching between you, before finally stepping closer. With a gentle smile, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer than necessary. As you pulled back, your eyes met his, filled with a warmth that made his heart race.
“I’d like that,” you whispered, your voice tender and genuine.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Theo felt the tight knot in his chest begin to loosen.
©𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 2024
#theodore nott#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#theo nott#theodore nott x you#theo nott x you#slytherin boys#theodore nott fanfic#theo nott fanfic#moons writing ☾
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MINE AND MINE ONLY.
Modern!Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader
Aemond has gotten you pregnant six months ago, and seeing him with his infant niece during dinner with his family sparks something inside of you only he can satisfy.
WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; p in v, face sitting, slight anal play, slight breeding kink, pregnant sex, slight lactation kink
WORDS: 4.9 K
NOTES: Sorry, I’m kinda in baby fever right now don’t ask me why. 😭 This also is my gift for hitting 1850 followers a few days ago, which means I’m finally where I’ve been before deleting my old blog. Thanks for everyone following me on this journey. 🫶🏻
The days between Christmas and New Years usually are meant for people to take some much-needed downtime from the stress of the past days or weeks – unless you are a Targaryen or married to one.
It’s the fourth year in a row you’re spending one, sometimes even two, days at the large Targaryen mansion with every member of their family present.
What started as an opportunity to celebrate the New Year early with her family four years ago, since Viserys and Alicent wanted to celebrate New Year’s Eve on a yacht somewhere in the Sea of Dorne back then, has quickly turned into a tradition that no one could escape.
Not even the six-month pregnant you.
As an excuse to not travel to the family’s vacation home on Dragonstone, Aemond has begged for you to allow him to tell his mother that your back pain has gotten so bad you couldn’t sit in the car for four hours.
The fact that he didn’t fall to his knees while doing it was everything.
But you have told him no, seeing that your back pains have eased two weeks ago, and it is one of the rare occasions he gets to spend with his whole family, not just his mother’s side.
If he wants to or not.
“And how are you spending New Year’s?” you ask, lounging in the burgundy Lawson chair.
Helaena sits in the chair next to yours, fidgeting with the stem of her wine glass. Every now and then you spot her lilac eyes flickering to your protruding bump, accentuated by the tight slip dress you wear.
“This year we’re embracing a night in,” she answers, nursing her alcohol-free wine. “Cregan doesn’t want to leave the children with his parents, since Lyanna is still breastfeeding, and Edrick doesn’t want to go without his little sister.”
You nod along to her words, smiling softly at the mention of her sons‘ protectiveness, and glance past her to Aemond, Aegon and Cregan. The men are standing close to the fireplace, glasses of whiskey between their fingers. Normally, they would be tipsy by now – some more than others – if it wasn’t for the infant cradled in Cregan’s strong arms.
Helaena follows your line of sight, the turning of her head prompting you to look at her again.
“What are your plans?” she asks.
You pucker your lips slightly, looking down at the glass of water you‘ve rested on your belly before meeting her eyes.
“Aegon has invited us to a party in White Harbor, a formal dinner with some of his friends. We wanted to go, because the place is stunning and it’s overlooking the iconic harbor fireworks, but it’s such a long drive, and Aemond doesn’t want to risk anything by us taking the plane,” you sigh, “so, we’ll probably stay at home or just go out for dinner.”
Ever since you’ve handed him the gift box containing four identical, positive pregnancy tests, Aemond has taken over a protective aura and has found it incredibly difficult to keep his hands off of you.
It’s a miracle he was able to talk to his brother and brother-in-law for so long without checking in on you once.
But speak of the devil.
What you aren’t expecting when Aemond makes his way over to where you’re conversing with his sister, is the little infant in his arms. Her head rests against his shoulder, while one of his large hands supports it and neck, and the other supports her bottom.
He’s swaying her gently as he walks over, a proud smile on his lips as he can’t tear his eyes off of his niece, coming to stand next to Helaena’s chair. The sight makes your heart swell with love.
Cregan trails behind him, and your eyes briefly fall to the abandoned Aegon still standing at the fireplace and balancing their three glasses in his hands.
“Honey,” the Northener’s gruff voice rings out, “your mother said that Edrick’s made a mess. Could you change him while I clean up?” Still standing offset behind your husband, Cregan pats Aemond on the shoulder once. “Our girl’s in good hands, and Aemy here can already practice for what awaits him soon.”
Helaena raises her eyebrows, before snickering at her husband’s remark. She bows her head once, smiling at you, “excuse me, Y/N.”
“We’ll talk later,” you assure her.
She brushes her hand over your swollen belly once as she rises, Cregan’s hand on the small of her back urging her out of the living space.
Aemond carefully sinks into the chair, and changes the position of the sleeping infant so she’s cradled in his arms.
“What have you been up to?” he asks, finally moving his head to look at you.
You were wearing a knitted sweater over your dress when you two arrived a few hours earlier, but with hot flashes attacking you every now and then, you have long opted to slip out of it and hang the sweater over a chair.
And the outfit change clearly is only now noticed by him.
His lilac eyes flickered between yours and your full breasts, and you can literally see the gears turning in his head.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he states, full on staring at your breasts.
Fine, maybe you have also done it to tease him a bit.
A blush creeps onto his cheeks, running down his neck, and he slightly shifts in his seat, turning his gaze away as he clears his throat.
Pressing your lips into a thin line to stop them from curling into a smile, you quickly shush the urge by taking a swig of your water. “Wasn’t keen on spending the evening unable to think of anything else than how sore and uncomfortable I feel,” you tease. “Are you complaining?”
Aemond raises one hand in defeat, “certainly not, just pointing it out.”
You teasingly reach and bring your index finger to his chin, tilting it up for his eyes to meet yours again. “Then you better stop staring, we're not the only ones here.”
You glance briefly at the gathered party around you, watching Alicent chat with Rhaenyra and her husband, while Aegon seems to be deep in a conversation with Daemon, no doubt talking about the latest match between the Casterly Rock Lions and the Oldtown Saints.
“Fair enough,” he answered with a low chuckle.
The soft coos of his niece catch your attention, and you lean forwards to gauge at the little bundle. She’s stirring lightly in her sleep, grimaces and smiles alike gracing her scrunched features. Aemond brushes her cheek with his knuckles in feather light touches, until her coos are interrupted, and wide, blue eyes stare up at him.
Lyanna smacks her lips slowly, bringing her small hand up to her mouth. “What is she doing?” Aemond whispers, not daring to pull his eyes away from her in case she starts to cry.
“She’s hungry,” you answer with a chuckle, grinning as you notice his helplessness.
It’s so brief, but you spot his eyes flickering towards your full breasts, and you have to stop yourself from hitting his shoulder. One wrong word.
“You know there are barely four months left until your life looks like this, too, right?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“I do, but they have not yet told us about this at the prenatal class.”
“Oh, come on, she’s not your first niece, and she’s not even crying.”
The sigh of relief Aemond releases as he spots Helaena’s silver hair in the far distance has you shaking your head, bringing your index finger up to your smiling lips.
“How did you three get on?” Helaena asks, noticing that her daughter is awake.
Your husband rises to his feet, and hands his niece over to her. “Easy, she’s just woken up and seems really hungry,” he notes, as if he has figured it out all by himself. “And how did you fare?”
Helaena releases a dry chuckle, brushing her free hand up and down Aemond’s biceps. “I’ll tell you another time, don’t want to scare you.“ She briefly glances over at you. “Just know that Creg has to bathe him right now, because the wet wipes were useless.”
The grimace on Aemond’s face at his sister’s words has you choking on a laugh.
Lyanna starts to whine and wiggle in her mother’s grasp, getting her attention. “Sorry again, it’s feeding time, obviously,” she states, muttering the last word under her breath, and shoots you an apologetic gaze before scurrying off.
You hold out a hand, and knowing what it means, Aemond takes it to help you up from the chair.
His heart melts at the sight of you before him, and he wraps an arm around you to pull you against his side as he brushes his hand over the gentle swell of your belly in tender affection. There were shy kicks meeting his hand, making him grin.
You return the embrace, and lean yourself against his frame, your head resting on his chest. “It’s different when it’s your own child, you know,” you say, the small glimmer of a smile blessing your features.
His head dips forwards, and he presses his lips to your temple, mumbling the words against your skin, “I can’t wait to meet him.”
—
Aemond has his arm slung around your waist as everyone has gathered in the vast living space to watch the children perform a play they have practiced.
Alicent, ever the proud grandmother, clings to Viserys as they watch in awe what the children of Rhaenyra have been up to. An oblivious Edrick appears in the middle of it all, but before Cregan can scoop him up, the little Viserys has taken his hands to include him in their mischief.
“Have I already told you how good you look today?” Aemond whispers, his head dipping forwards so his lips are level with your ear. He rubs your bump gently, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes.
You shiver from his touch, your body tingling from the attention your husband gives you. “You’re not paying attention,” you scold softly, nodding towards the children in the middle. A teenage Jacaerys, as well as Daemon’s daughters from his first marriage, stand before you, your view of the play slightly concealed.
“I can’t help myself,” he whispers huskily, “you’re just too distracting, Mommy.” A smirk tugs on his lips as the name leaves them, and the sight is only topped by him leaning in to brush his lips over your ear, before they press to the sensitive skin behind it. The very spot that always makes you putty in his hands, and with your hormones in full swing, it does a little more than just melt you.
“Aemond,” you whisper, though he can also hear the trace of a moan in it, “easy.”
His teeth graze your earlobe, and the ring of his baritone voice sends a shiver down your spine, “we should go to bed early tonight.”
You can’t help but to chuckle at his words. It’s his subtle way to ask for something without directly asking, though you know exactly what he means. You lean into him, pressing yourself against his side.
Biting the tip of your tongue, it was impossible for you to stop your lips from pulling into a mischievous smirk.
“Do you think your mother will notice if we leave now?” you ask, innocently.
You’re greeted with a wide grin when your eyes meet Aemond’s, and the arm he has wrapped around you tightens just more, keeping you against his frame.
His lips brush your ear again, trailing down to press a kiss to the side of your neck. “If she does, she can tell me later,” he raps into your ear, “besides, we wouldn‘t be gone for too long, sweetheart. Just long enough for a little… alone time. Who could blame us for wanting to savor the last weeks where it’s only the two of us, mh?”
Aemond looks around one last time, noticing how everyone around you is mostly focused on the children’s show.
Bringing his hand to the small of your back, he gently guides you through the crowd of his relatives, before you’re on the way to his childhood bedroom.
It’s furnished in a minimalistic style, making it obvious that Alicent has spent some time decluttering her children’s rooms to make them more presentable for whenever guests stay over. The room basically is Aemond’s, and the rest belongs to Alicent.
Walking in behind you, he locks the door. You look around briefly before his firm chest is flush against your back with his arms around your waist, resting on your bump. He presses his lips to the curve of your neck, prompting you to tilt your head to the side, and a shuddered breath to escape your throat.
The feeling of his hard, clothed cock against the curve of your ass drives you to insanity, making you eager for more. He grinds against you as his fingers travel over your curves, and greedily fist the fabric of your dress.
“Let me help you undress, Mama,” he rasps against your skin, goosebumps prickling in its wake.
When he sinks to his knees behind you, you whimper quietly, immediately missing the heat of his breath and lips on your body.
“Aemond,” you breathe, looking down at him as he pushes your dress up.
The dumbfounded look that crosses his features with the skirt of your dress rucked up just shy beneath your bump has you chuckling, realization settling in.
“You went commando?”
Biting your bottom lip, you can basically see his excitement building, the bulge in the front of his slacks quite obvious despite him kneeling. “I was feeling… adventurous today,” you hum, a glint of mischief in your eyes.
He can’t help but to grin at your comment, and, on his way up, Aemond starts to press several kisses to the outside of your thigh, his fingers following in their trail.
Standing to full height again, looming over you, he keeps his hand beneath your bump, his fingers caressing your pubic mound.
You squeeze your thighs together in a desperate attempt to soothe the aching at the apex of them, since his fingers aren’t touching you where you need them most. An anticipating moan slips past your lips, a shiver shaking your core.
“I hope you’re prepared for me to be just as adventurous,” he hums, “... and thorough.”
His fingers hook under the thin straps of your dress, tugging them off your shoulders to push the elastic fabric down your curves and onto the ground. It’s pooling around your ankles in a white puddle, leaving you completely bare to him with just a few touches.
You shudder under his intense gaze, practically devouring you with just his lilac eyes, and try to break the tension by pulling him in for a kiss.
You turn around mid-kiss, your protruding belly a barrier between your bodies. Before your hands can entangle into his strands, Aemond catches them and intertwines your fingers. He creates a small distance between your bodies, taking a few steps back and pulling you with him.
His steps are deliberately slow, careful, and you’re encouraged to climb his lap as he sits down at the edge of the bed. Both his feet are firmly planted on the ground, supporting your swollen body.
He groans as you trap him between your legs, his hands roaming your curves almost immediately. The knowledge that he was the one responsible for the changes of your body, and that everybody else knew that as well, does something to him, making him all the more hungry for you.
It was even more addicting to see you sit astride him like a goddess, ready to claim what was yours already anyways. Him.
Feeling his clothed member throb beneath you, the urge to grind above him is as inviting as never, and you’re more than ready to give into the urge. Your wetness soaks his slacks, and the groan Aemond releases at the friction has you whimpering with him.
Your lips meet for a fervent kiss, and while your hands rest on his shoulders, his are eager to explore the swell of your belly. His tongue finds its way past your lips, swirling around yours in a way that turns the kiss into all teeth and tongue.
Dragging your teeth over his kiss swollen bottom lip, he tilts his head upwards and nudges the tip of his nose against yours. You lick over his lips once, but when you lean in to connect your lips again, Aemond stops you with his hand around your throat.
“I want you to sit on my face,” he rasps, his voice husky.
You haven’t sat on his face in weeks, or rather ever since the round ligament pain kicked in and made even the simplest daily tasks difficult for you.
Your eyes widen. “But– I–”
“No, you’re not too heavy,” he interrupts, cocking one eyebrow at you.
There’s not even a chance for you to reject before he lies down and hooks his hands beneath your thighs, hoisting you up and pulling you towards his face. You sit on his chest, barely seeing his chiseled features from under your bump.
As the position you are in truly settles in your mind, a bright blush starts to cover the apples of your cheeks. His angelic looks don't help either, strands of silver hair splayed out around his head like a halo, and his piercing lilac eyes fixed on you and you only. “But you tell me when it gets too much, no?” you ask, coyly.
Aemond rubs his hands over your bare thighs in comfort, nodding. “Always.” Deep down you know it’s a lie, because he has told you on more than one occasion that he’d gladly leave the world suffocated by your delicious pussy, but you trust the feigned security he offers.
“No promises about how long I’ll last, though,” you tell him.
A gentle pat to your thigh is what has you eventually inching forwards until your knees are on either side of his head.
With your bump being quite protruding, you can’t even see him anymore, you only hear his groans and growls when you cautiously settle in the new position.
The attempt to slightly hover your pussy over his face is fruitless the moment your husband’s hands fly to your hips, grabbing you and pulling you down onto his face. Just his nose perfectly teasing your clit has you moaning out loudly already, even though he hasn’t even used his tongue yet.
And then it follows.
Aemond greedily laps at your entrance as his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place and playing you like a fiddle. It circles around your clenching hole, teasing it but never one dipping it inside.
You clench around nothing, and bring one hand to your bump while the other just rests above his hand on your hip, squeezing it. Chasing the friction and warmth of his tongue, you rock your hips back and forth as much as his grip allows, coaxing whimpers and mewls to leave your lips.
“Gods be good,” you whimper, the grip of your thighs around his face tightening. “I–I forgot how good you are at this.”
Seemingly keening at your praise, you’re almost disappointed when he pulls his hand off of yours to cup your ass cheeks, yanking you impossibly closer. The groans that vibrate against your pussy send shivers up your spine that make you lose yourself in the pleasure, not focusing on where his hands are.
At this point, Aemond was feasting at you like a man starved, all but devouring you with newfound vigor. His nose flicks against your clit with expert precision every time he tilts his head or you move your hips, drawing you closer to your orgasm.
His index finger comes into play, teasing your throbbing folds for a split second. His true intentions, however, only show the moment it starts to circle around your other hole.
“Fuck, Aemond, I-” you manage as he carefully dips his finger into your hole, the added stimulation almost immediately tightening the coil in your belly. A muffled groan of appreciation shakes your core as he feels your unused hole tighten around his finger.
You roll your hips against Aemond’s mouth on the race to completion, any thoughts of being too heavy for him long gone, and replaced by nothing else than raw need and desire.
It’s almost too much. Straddling the fine line between overwhelming and just the right amount. His nose rubs your clit, his lips lap hungrily at your swollen folds, and his index finger fills you pleasantly – he is redoubling his efforts.
You keep dragging your hips back and forth in rhythm with his movements, fucking his face on the brink of your release.
“Oh God, you-you’re so good– Aemond, I’m–I’m–” you ramble, breathy whimpers filling in between the words.
Hearing him slurp and groan beneath your trembling frame brings a blush to your face and stokes the fire in your belly, the sounds fanning through the room like your moans and whimpers.
When the coil finally snaps, you throw your head back in ecstasy and clamp your thighs around his head, hot, white pleasure licking its way up your spine. His name topples off your lips more than once, accompanied by desperate mewls and whines. He is relentless, licking you through your orgasm.
You don’t wait long enough for the aftershocks to fully subside, the overstimulation of his tongue dragging through your folds becoming too much, and cup your pregnant belly as you heave your frame off of his face, shifting backwards down his body.
“Fuck, I–I need you,” you all but beg, eagerly tugging on the collar of his black shirt.
Aemond seems to share your enthusiasm, and is quick to sit up again, meeting your lips for a deep kiss. Only when you cup his cheeks do you feel that they’re covered in your arousal, the taste of you on his tongue clouding your mind.
Your belly is between you again, but Aemond manages to swiftly undo the zipper in the front of his slacks nevertheless, and shoves them down just enough to free his aching cock.
“So desperate for my cock now, mh?” Aemond pants against your lips, a smug smirk tugging on the corners.
His hand wraps around his stiff member, fisting himself raw twice, thrice, before another pat served to your thigh encourages you to raise your hips. He aligns himself with your soaked entrance, and you feel his tip prodding gingerly at it.
As you sink down on him, your hands tightly gripping the collar of his shirt, you release a shuddered breath. Your husband, on the other hand, escapes a relieved groan, his head tipping back for a moment.
With your limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you bow your head forwards, lowering yourself on him until he is balls deep inside of you. “Mh, fuck, you didn’t even bother to take off your pants,” you taunt, “so desperate to be inside me.”
Aemond’s words die on his tongue as you start to sensually roll your hips over his, the added weight of the bump not allowing you to bounce up and down on him with the vigor you had used before your pregnancy.
But your husband doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes journeying into the back of his head at the sensation.
Moving his hands to grope and grasp at every inch of your body, they eventually settle on your full breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples between his nimble fingers while you unravel astride him. It prompts you to arch your back, all but shoving your breasts into his face.
“So fucking good,” he grunts, embracing it and wrapping his lips around your pert nipple while his arms snake around your body.
He licks and sucks at your little bud like he has done with your pussy before, and, just judging by the smacking and humming sounds he makes, it’s possible there ooze a few droplets of milk out of it.
Aemond places his feet firmly on the ground, and starts to buck his hips up into yours, seemingly impatient for his own release as he meets the sensual rolls of your hips and bullies the spongy spot inside of you with more determination.
Loud, wet sounds from where your bodies meet echo off the walls, indistinct to you with all you can focus on being his lips at your heavy breasts, and his cock deep inside of you.
You bite your bottom lip and stop the rolling of your hips, making it evident that you were close to your orgasm. The tingling at the base of your spine makes it impossible to move any further and you rely on him to take over.
Aemond pulls back and watches you gleefully as the force of his thrusts makes your body squirm and jerk, eagerly anticipating you to topple over the edge for the second time.
“You’re gonna cum on my cock already?” he asks, almost mockingly.
You frantically nod, breathing a yes.
His hands come to your hips, and with his fingers digging into your flesh, he drags your hips back and forth, your clit rubbing against the hem of his shirt with each movement. You’re not able to gasp more than yeses and pleases, clenching tightly around him.
The intensity of his thrusts increases while you have stopped moving, toes curling as the taut string inside of you snaps without a warning and white stars cloud your vision.
“Mh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine, clawing at his shoulders as you ride out your high, grinding and rolling your hips against his. Your walls clamp around him like a vice, and he chokes on a husky groan. “Oh God, I love you.“
And even though your orgasm subsides slowly, Aemond refuses to slow down, keeping his heedless pace and pursuing his own completion.
He has his lips around your other nipple by now, sucking and nibbling on it, the vibrations of his groans coursing through your veins. “Daddy, mh, cum for me, please,” you whine, desperate for his cum.
Your body, however, contradicts your words and moans, your thighs squeezing his in a desperate attempt to stop him from pounding into your overstimulated pussy – but to no avail.
“God, please.”
His pace is as reckless and merciless as before, his cock all but forcing its way in and out of your quivering walls as he doesn’t listen to your desperate pleas.
Pulling back from your nipple with a lewd pop, a string of saliva connects the dark areola and his swollen lips as he gazes up at you with half-lidded eyes. “Hush now, Mommy,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss you. The nickname coaxes a smug smirk on his lips. “Taking me so well, such a good girl for Daddy.” With just his praise, a warmth overtakes your body that drowns out the burning, your chest swelling.
You sling your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in the silver strands of his hair in a way that is destined to ruin the little updo he had put it in this morning.
“Mh, fuck, I’m gonna–” his words are cut off with a stutter of his hips, and he feels his throbbing cock spill deep inside of you.
You ride him through his high with lazy rolls of your hips, biting through the overstimulation, and clench and unclench around him as you milk him for every drop of his seed.
If he hadn’t gotten you pregnant already, he surely would have knocked you up after this.
Aemond languidly fucks up into you now as the last spurts of his warm release fill you to the brim, grunting and groaning until the euphoria fades.
He collapses on the bed, a blissed out expression on his face, and reaches to trace his fingers over the swell of your bump up to the curve of your breasts. Rolling the darkened buds between them, he smirks as he watches you squirm, his softening cock still buried inside of you.
“You know,” he starts, folding one arm behind his head. His voice is softer than before, but has a teasing edge to it. “I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew by now what we’ve been up to.”
You laugh breathlessly and plant your hands on his chest, rubbing your thumbs over it. “But at least they don’t have to worry about you getting me pregnant by accident,” you tease.
“True enough,” he chuckles softly, “Fuck, I’m–I just can’t help myself. Seeing your body swell just because of my seed fucking does something to me.”
His words make you blush, and you appreciatively run your hands over your bump.
You lean forwards and cup his face, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He smirks against your mouth, and subconsciously bucks his hips into yours as he feels you clench around him.
With a groan rumbling in his chest, he pulls back. Something dark flickers in his eyes, his intentions evident when he speaks again.
“Once our boy’s born, I’ll make quick work of making you a mother of two.”
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˚₊‧꒰ა cold embrace (provenance) — fyodor dostoevsky
𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎. you buy a two hundred year old house with a two hundred year old painting hanging above the mantel. it's not the only thing the previous owner left behind.
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈. ghost!fyodor, f!reader, violence, angst, death, alternate / modern universe, no smut but it is suggestive, fyodor is kind of a pervy ghost so, wc: 6.1k
𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈. this one has two titles bc it was supposed to be for my kinktober... never finished it. embarrassing ! but here is a semi-revamped version for this series! i can finally check it off my wips page <3 idk how i feel about it but i hope you enjoy
part of my summerween series !
A chime from the grandfather clock brings Fyodor out of his stupor, the sound signaling another day, another meaningless hour that will only continue his eternal misery. He’s grown used to it now—evening after evening of emptiness, of reading nothing but the same books, playing the same pieces of dull sheet music, and the lifeless chess matches against himself. The house is cold with only his presence, dusty without a housekeeper and a life to make it a home.
There are a million things in Fyodor’s life that he must have done to deserve this misery, but he can’t pinpoint which one solidified his reward of a lamentable, endless cycle.
He’s certain hell is better than this. It’s something he wishes for every day, if only to have an eternal companion with the devil, a challenge to overcome.
Though, even with this boredom, Fyodor refuses to let anyone live in his home. They’ll only serve to be another pain, something that would, surely, push him past the brink of sanity.
The centuries old décor will get replaced with gaudy twenty-first century items, ones that will be nothing more than an eyesore. There are a few already scattered around his home from previous tenants, but only things that he believed useful enough for him to keep; a few books from authors he didn’t live to read, a television from the nineties, a computer that he watched one couple scroll on before he murdered them in cold blood.
Perhaps he is two hundred years dead and gone, but he refuses to be an ignorant ghost, one that is unaware of anything beyond these four walls, caught forever in the past.
Although now, it’s been a while since anyone’s tried to move in, and he’s certain the only reason the house hasn’t been torn down is because its preserved nicely, an eighteenth-century home that has withstood the test of time.
Fyodor, in his lowest moments, wishes they would tear it down. Maybe then, and only then, can he be set free. Or maybe, he’s forever trapped in this exhaustive lot, doomed to decay, even when there’s nothing left of the foundations but soil.
He pushes a pawn forward on the board, putting himself in checkmate for the millionth time in a row. It’s been so long that he’s used to his own tricks. Even the computer, which he’d come to understand quickly, is no match for him. It’s far too exhaustive to play against a machine that utilizes an algorithm he can so easily decipher.
Out of nowhere, the front door unlocks, and Fyodor glances over at the sound, dark hair falling over his eyes. Seconds later, he notices an older realtor with a clipboard leading you around, a woman he��s never seen, dressed up nicely with a darker shade of lipstick smeared across your mouth.
He’s been through this before. It’s a miracle the realtor hasn’t given up on this house yet, a mansion she is determined to sell despite the endless horrors that have been committed by his hand.
“Here it is,” she says, nervous, gesturing around the expansive hall, the crystal chandelier and staircase that immediately follows. “It was built in 1731, but one of the owners remolded it in the style of the mid-nineteenth century. The structure has been stabilized; it’s safe… enough.”
The two of you chat, but he doesn’t bother to listen in. It’s all questions of: when can I move in? can we negotiate? — things you will come to regret once he sets his sights on killing you.
Then, the realtor is sighing, wringing her hands together as she watches you spin around the house in awe. It’s clear that you’re impressed by the layout, the rich furniture and colors that have been used.
That, at least, satisfies Fyodor. Everyone else who has moved in was looking to upgrade it to a modern style, rid the place of its aged grace and charm.
“I’m truly sorry,” she says, brushing curly hair away from her cheekbones. “But I am legally obligated to tell you that every person who has lived here before has suffered a terrible, terrible fate. There have been gruesome murders that cannot be explained, done in ways that I don’t even want to tell you about.”
You laugh, eyeing her with skepticism. “Are you telling me it’s haunted?”
The realtor shrugs. “That’s what people say.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” you answer, and Fyodor rolls his eyes, scoffing as he floats to the second floor, unable to listen into the unreasonable conversation anymore. It’s been the same story for decades. No one believes in ghosts, but it is always a ghost that kills them.
He returns to the chess board, irritated, though unable to consider the game any further. Your face is stuck in his mind. For some reason, he can’t remember the last time he’s ever seen anyone with such beauty.
Fyodor stops; your ageless elegance doesn’t matter—it can’t, and it won’t. You’ll be dead by the end of the month, when you gather all your things and invade the bedroom that was once his own. Even if you are beautiful, you are a nuisance, a threat to Fyodor’s eternal torment and quiet existence.
Still, he can’t help but wonder if it would be nice to have something other than his own thoughts to distract him from the endless misery.
You move in on the thirteenth of June, nothing more than a few boxes and a decade old car to keep you company. He guesses you’ve traveled a long distance to get here, and you’ve gotten rid of half of your life in the process.
A good thing for him. That means things can be over relatively quickly, and all your belongings can be disposed of easily after he kills you.
You spend the entire first day unpacking, and Fyodor waits patiently, allows you time to get comfortable in his home. He watches as you bring a stack of thick novels into the waiting room, which once boasted large parties, and place them on a shelf below those that have his name within the covers.
You take a few calls as you hang up your autumn coats, ones that won’t be needed for a few months. The voice on the other line sounds frantic, worried. A local, most likely. You only seem annoyed by his continuous string of anxieties.
When the sun sets, and you grow tired, you rub your eyes and head to bed. The first night you will spend in this place that Fyodor likens to Hell.
It’s the time he’s been waiting for—a moment to catch you off guard. You are so unsuspecting, already so at home in the mansion, that you have no fear of anything hurting you in the middle of the night.
While you get ready for bed, Fyodor slips into your room, observing the pieces of your life that have conquered his bedroom. A soft classical piece plays from your phone, one that he recognizes from his mortal life. Clearly, you are fascinated by the period he once lived in. A shame, really, he won’t be able to tell you more about it.
You leave the bathroom, come back towards him to change into a pair of small shorts, a large shirt hanging over your frame.
He’s forgotten how long it’s been since he’s seen a woman, how long since he’s touched one.
Fyodor finds himself distracted by your body, the smoothness of your skin. His eyes travel over your legs, your hips, the fullness of your breasts and ignores how much he desires to let his thumb graze over your flesh. There is something so soft about you, so gentle and innocent.
Perhaps, that is where his fascination stems from: he has always been the opposite. Even in his human existence, Fyodor was not a kind man, and he doesn’t plan on becoming one now that he is dead.
He shakes away the vision, the thoughts that swirl within his mind. It has been far too long since he has experienced any sort of pleasure, and maybe even a man as cold as himself is not immune to the desires that course within his veins.
Though he tries to be. He ignores his arousal desperately in exchange for a renewed bloodlust.
You climb into bed, put your phone on the white cord, and shut your eyes. Thirty minutes later, you’re sleeping soundly, soft puffs of air leaving your lips as you sleep.
It’s the opportune moment. The silver knife gleams brightly in his hand, streaks of moonlight tracing over the slanted point. It’s the same blade he’s killed every other new tenant with, their screams still echo in the halls like a harmonious melody each time he bring the knife down on another unknowing victim.
He stands before you at the side of the bed, watches as your chest rises and falls, the evidence of your life undeniable. You are a lovely image like this, something to be painted and adored; more beautiful than many of the women he’d met in his time, even those who were of the finest elite in the country.
Fyodor presses the blade to your throat, contemplative. He considers how much lovelier you will look with the scarlet stain of blood seeping down your neck, spraying across the room and ruining the fresh sheets. Will you awaken, gasping as you claw at your throat, or will you drift away without even understanding what has become of you?
He pictures it, and digs the blade close to your throat, nothing more than a pinprick of blood flowering there.
You don’t awaken; but you a little sound leaves you, something between a gasp and a moan, and you shift away from the knife gripped between his pale fingers. It’s a sound that has him pausing, musing, as he regards your vulnerable state, a beautiful figure there with no clue that such a murderous man is also a resident in her home.
You make another one of those pretty noises in your throat, and Fyodor, against two centuries of murderous intent, pulls the knife away. He watches as you roll on your stomach, your shirt scrunching, moving up your body to reveal the undersides of your breasts. Your hand shifts towards him on the bed, reaching in his direction, before you still. Then, your breathing is back to normal, evened out completely.
Your lips part blissfully as you sigh in your sleep.
He can’t stop looking at you, can’t stop wondering what his name would sound like leaving the perfect swell of your mouth, if you’d sound just as pretty when you orgasm as you do when you’re asleep.
Surely, he can find a better use for you—it would be a shame for such a pretty thing to go out so early.
As he draws back, Fyodor notices the chess board on the side table, the pieces arranged nicely, each on the correct square. He can’t tell if you play. You could just have it for decoration, or perhaps it was a gift given to you from a lover that he hasn’t seen pictures of, the one that he’s certain someone as lovely as you must have.
The board is aged; not as old as the one in the drawing room, but a nice set, nonetheless. Fyodor glances back at your sleeping form once more, smiles coolly to himself, and shifts a pawn forward.
The chess piece is the first thing you notice in the morning.
It’s almost ridiculous how easily it catches your eye, a tiny little movement within the chaos that was your brand-new room. A pawn is on a different square, leering at you from the other wall, as if smiling, a flashing sign above its head, calling to you, hoping you’ll pay attention.
You almost think nothing of it; things can move, can’t they? Perhaps there was a shift in the earth overnight… Though, that makes little sense when you think about it rationally.
It’s strange, that much is certain. You remember the realtor telling you about the ghosts, and though you aren’t inclined to believe in haunted houses and scary stories, you find a part of yourself questioning the logic of the chess piece.
You are certain it was on the correct square before you slept.
It’s the only thing on your mind as you get ready, suffer through a tasteless breakfast, and throw on a rain jacket to combat the dreary weather. You’re meeting a friend for lunch—the only friend you have in this town. Sigma is the sole reason you decided to move here, instead of the other arbitrary cities that you’d been desperate to escape to.
Still, the board won’t leave your mind. You take one last glance at it before, on a whim, pushing the opposite color pawn forward as well.
Then you leave, hoping that a conversation with your friend will take your mind off the strangeness of that happenstance, the anxiety you feel about moving to a new place, a new job where no one knows you, a home that stays cold, despite the heat that reigns with long summers.
The walk to the cafe is short, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, you are miserable, your hands wrinkling from the dampness, even within your pockets.
Sigma is waiting for you, his lavender and white hair loose over his shoulders as he peruses the menu, eyes darting across it like he’s never read it before.
You sit, offer him a greeting, and though your conversation is cordial, the two of you catching up on your day, you eventually ask the question you’ve been dying to know.
“Do you believe in ghosts?”
Sigma stops, puts the utensil back down on his plate, and regards you with a thin frown. “Did something happen?”
You think of the chess piece, wonder if another will be moved when you get home. “No, but—”
“I told you not to move into that house,” he says, eyes narrowing. Sigma refuses to step into that mansion, grows anxious every time you mention it. “Over ten people have died there. Do you want to get murdered?”
“No particularly,” you say, staring at him flatly, your mouth pulling into a line. “But I’ve made it one night already. I’ll be fine.”
A hard laugh leaves him, as he shakes his head, unamused by your cheekiness. “That’s what they all say, isn’t it? Then they all die.”
“Very dramatic.” You take a long sip of your water. Sigma’s features don’t crack in the slightest as he stares at you, waiting for you to continue. “I’m not scared. I just want to know if you believe in ghosts or not… Because I don’t.”
Sigma’s eyes flit across your face, searching for any hint of a lie, for any signs of fear. When he finds none, his hands stretch across the table, lacing them together as he glares. “Whether you believe in ghosts or not doesn’t matter. There’s something evil about that house, and you’re putting yourself in danger by living there.”
The conversation with Sigma weighs on your mind for hours after, when you return home, still thinking about the chess board. It was just as you’d left it, two pawns moved forward, staring each other down menacingly. Nothing out of the ordinary.
You sigh and finally put it out of your mind. It was just a coincidence, that’s all. The piece was probably on the wrong square all along, and you’d been too tired last night to notice it.
Instead, you focus your sights on unpacking, and contemplate what to do with the portrait hanging above the mantel.
It’s a dusty old thing, one that the previous owners had, for some reason, never taken down. It had hung over the mantel for centuries, the corners faded from the sun, but the sinister grin of the subject never losing its effect.
You tilt your head, stare at it from a different angle. Looking at it that way, you could, perhaps, see why the painting appealed to them. It’s old, with a style from a different century, and the man composed of deep shadows and pale colors is undeniably handsome. He seems out of place in the portrait, trapped there, too otherworldly to be captured on such a canvas. His features are sharp, molded out of something tougher than diamonds, something more beautiful than this plane is able to comprehend. His deep eyes seem to know all as they stare at you, trace you across the room.
For minutes, you are hypnotized, before a wave of disgust washes over you, and you turn away, unable to look at it any longer. You’ll sell it, you decide. Maybe it will be worth a pretty penny.
That evening, you decide to look into it, but the search into a local art dealer doesn’t get far. When you sit down at your laptop, beginning to type your question into the browser, the lid shuts on your fingertips.
It takes a moment for you to register what had happened. A faint sting dances along the back of your hands, your knuckles tender as you lift the lid back up. Lines bounce along the screen, as if the imprint of your hand had made its way into the pixels, matching the pulse of your nerves.
You curse lowly, hoping that a reset will fix the issue.
The lid had just fallen, nothing serious. It was a newer model, but those things could happen. Issues with the manufacturing, with the way it was assembled. Technology fails you all the time.
You hold the power button, irritated, and upset, when a horrible, screeching noise echoes from the computer. Nothing but a shrill scream, the speakers begging you for help. You slam it shut once more, and the noise stops, but your heartbeat doesn’t slow down.
Shit.
Tomorrow, you’ll have to take it in, and see if anyone can discern the issues. It’s not ideal, but there’s so many things to still need to do, and a broken laptop makes those things very difficult.
You sigh, pushing the chair back into the table. The portrait looms above you as you retreat back to your room, hands shaking. It’s irrational, you know it is, but you swear his eyes follow you all the way up the stairs.
It doesn’t take long for you to start believing in the ghost that is haunting your manor, the one who has let you live for a week and who plays a new game of chess every time your back is turned. Whoever it is, they are much better than you; so far, you’ve lost twice—haven’t even gotten close to winning.
He hides things from you, items that you are needing for the next day, papers that you can’t submit to work on time because the important files have been stashed away.
You find your books opened to paragraphs the ghost seemingly finds interesting, your sheet music scattered in a mess when you return. The candles get blown out unexpectedly, and doors slam when you’re not suspecting it.
If he’s trying to scare you—it isn’t working. You remain in the house, sometimes talking to him like he’s a friend, whispering amongst the walls that know all of the secrets in your home.
You stop at the library on your free weekend, flipping through a dusty copy of the local legends, only stopping when you find your home. There’s a copy of the painting there—your painting, the one that still hangs above your mantel, despite your better judgment.
Beside it, there’s a painting of your home, done when the house was first built. The outside of it is a differently color entirely, the garden in front blooming with pink and yellow flowers. It looks cheerful; the home of a warm and loving family, inviting and kind to each of the neighborhood children. Nothing like the dark manor it is today, with a dead garden in the front and shutters that keep even an ounce of light out.
You read the pages proceeding the painting. The first owner had been a kind man, but the next were not such. After the original owner lost his wealth, he sold the house, passed it to a line of greedy men, ones that were focused only on their money. For a century, it went on this way—until a man named Fyodor Dostoevsky purchased the home for twice as much as it once was.
He was the one who changed it, renovated it, upgraded it to his own personal style, ensuring that it fit in with the times and his own opinions of luxury. Fyodor was charming, but ruthless, deadly with his own intelligence, owning half the town as they lost their money to his schemes.
Fyodor’s rein came to an end when he was poisoned by his closest friend, perhaps the one man he had trusted. It was the first murder in a string of ones to follow within the house.
You close the book, unsure if you regret the knowledge you’d gained or not.
The house feels colder now that you know the history of it. As if you can see the cruelty etched into every wall. Colors of the home bleed into each other, a pastel yellow of warmth and light, and the next room empty, almost uninhabitable, with its royal purples.
You stare at the portrait as you make dinner, feeling like you can never escape the gaze of those oil painted eyes. He has a name now—Fyodor. It feels even more disarming now that you know more about him than he’ll ever know about you.
And though Fyodor watches you, every night, from every angle, you convince yourself it’s just the way that the painting is situated. It would be foolish to think that he’s really watching every move you make, irises pinned on your form, unblinking.
The oven heats up behind you as you cut up your food, humming a soft tune to yourself. It’s getting hotter outside – you’d almost forgotten how miserable the summers could be. You forget every year, even though you’ve lived many.
Just as you’re getting lost in your thoughts, going through a list of things that need to get done in your fixer-upper home, you hear a scratch behind you.
It’s a quick sound, so quick that you almost think it was only your imagination. It’s enough to give you pause, your humming fading out into the night as your eyes dart around your house. Although you’ve tried not to let urban legends get the best of you, you’re paranoid in this aged mansion now.
A few seconds pass. You listen to the sound of your own heartrate, feel it pounding in your chest as you will it to calm down. It’s just enough time for you to convince yourself that it was nothing, that you’re far too nervous about silly ghosts to think rationally.
Though as you turn, a knife flies from the counter, just grazing your cheek, but enough to cause a scratch to open up against the skin. Your finger draws away scarlet as you press it to the wound, staring at the painted crevices of your fingertip.
You can’t move. Despite every cell in your body begging, screaming at you to move, you’re frozen, trapped in the four walls of that kitchen as you stare at your bloodied hand.
It’s all a dream, you repeat to yourself. A dream.
One that you don’t wake up from.
Time passes strangely, when every muscle in your body is on edge, your head pounding from the anxiety that spikes throughout your nervous system. A bead of sweat drips from your temple, and though you aren’t sure how long you stand there, nothing else happens. The knife remains lodged in the wall behind you, and the ghost makes no other attempt to lodge one into your stomach.
It’s quiet. There’s no noise, save for the music that plays softly from your phone.
After you regain control of your racing heartrate, you realize that the song playing isn’t what you’d put on originally. It had switched to a gentle, classical piece. Tchaikovsky, you think… or something similar. Something that a man from a different era would be familiar with.
“Who’s there?” You find yourself saying, perhaps stupidly. “What do you want?”
There’s no response – of course there isn’t. You’re talking to the air. To a ghost. No one had gotten inside the house. You’d checked more than enough times, just as you always did.
“I live here now,” you offer, thinking that, perhaps anger is not the best course of action. Neither is fear, though, if the scary movies you’d watched as a teenager had been any indication. “But I’ll leave, if you want me to.”
There’s no answer to that either.
You sigh, and deflate once more, trying to make yourself believe that there was a logical explanation to knives flying and playlists changing. Just as you’d made yourself believe that everything the “ghost” had done before was just a game, innocently played.
Perhaps, there was never a ghost at all. It could be that stress is driving you to insanity.
With a glass of wine in your hand, you finish up dinner, feeling like you are at your wit’s end. How is it that only a few weeks in this house has already singed your mind, turned you into a believer of things that you are not?
The portrait feels like an omen, staring at you with violet eyes, as you wonder where Fyodor is now. Does he watch you when your home, cooking, as you shower, a vicious gaze tracing over each curve of your body, with a sickening thought of all the things he wishes to do to you?
You shiver. It’ s been a while since anyone’s looked at you with a hint of desire. The feeling has become foreign, now, but you can still recall the gratification that comes with being wanted, how it makes you feel, if only for a moment, comfortable in your own skin.
That thought alone quickly snaps you out of your irrational behavior. Thinking of a ghost wanting you? A man that had been buried in the earth for so long that his body would be nothing more than bones?
This house was making you sick, you concluded, wrapping your leftovers up in plastic and tinfoil, placing them in the fridge. Your nervous friend was right – you never should’ve moved into this house, and you never should have stayed this long.
Your hands shook along the banister, heart racing around every corner. You expected that, maybe, you would see a dark-haired spirit there, his body translucent, but still corporeal. Though, there was no spirit hiding within the depths of the shadows, lurking in the places where he still belonged. No sounds startled you, caused you to jump as you brushed your teeth, completed the one last routine of your day.
The bed was colder than usual as you climbed into it, like a flush of a cold spot had settled within the sheets. You remembered what they said about temperatures and ghosts—how they changed, nothing able to survive in the places that they haunted, as they were not of this world, but something in between, something unnatural.
Your lamp flickers as you turn it on, and it’s just one more red flag you choose to ignore. In houses as old as this one, there are issues like that. The wiring is faulty, the electric needs to be monitored, a laundry list of items you will probably never resolve.
There are a thousand rational conclusions, though, and only one irrational one, which puts your mind at ease. Things like flickering lamps and cold spots can be explained simply, even if knives flying at your face cannot.
Still, you settle into bed, deciding that you will talk to the realtor again soon. You’ll move in with Sigma if he’ll have you. Anything to put your mind at ease for good.
That night, you dream of Fyodor, as if he is there right in the room with you, looming above you with those deep, violent eyes. His fingers, long and pale, trace across your cheekbones, as your eyes flutter open, consciousness coming back to you.
He says your name – it’s no surprise he knows it, after living with you for so long. It’s spoken softly, with a hint of possession behind it, like you belong to him. And yet, you’ve never said a word to him, even if all this time, he’s gotten to know you better than anyone else ever has.
You expect a scream to leave your throat, some hint of surprise, of fear, even, to see a stranger in your bedroom. To see him watching you with those familiar eyes, hair falling over his pale forehead as he gazes down at you from the edge of the bed.
No sound emerges.
Your mind feels a little fuzzy, hazy at the edges as you blink at him, closer to a state of intoxication, than you are alertness. Despite that awareness, you can’t seem to snap out of it; maybe you don’t want to. Instead, you sink deeper into the warmth, the honeyed feeling that comes with turning off your rationality. Everything feels as if it’s coming through in blurred, rosy glasses.
“Fyodor,” you mouth, instead of the scream that you’d anticipated, his name coming out in two wistful syllables.
You should hate him – there’s something in your instincts pushing back at you. A flash of a knife, the days of chaos and uncertainty, where you were sure you were losing your mind, come back at you.
But none of that seems to matter now, as you trace your finger across his cheek, feeling the sharp indent below the high bone. His eyelashes are a shade lighter than his hair, soft as they flutter over his forehead. The portrait of him didn’t do him justice… or perhaps, it is in death that he has found his purest form.
“I’m too tired.”
You’re not sure where those words even come from. Calm, like this is nothing but routine, and waking up with Fyodor beside you is the closest thing to normalcy.
He smiles at you, leaning over you again on the bed, lips pulled tightly together in a morbid grin. It does little to sour your mood, to scare you into action, even if you can’t quite understand why.
“I know,” he replies.
It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak, a deep, accented sound smoothing against your ears as he traces his gaze against each of your features; musical, almost. His voice calms you, lulls you back into a meditative state.
You reach for him, in a trance, and twirl a strand of his hair between your finger, just to see if he’d let you. After the hell you’d been through the past week, well – was it really that miserable? He seems content to watch over you, observe the gentle movements of his dark hair coiled up around your pointer finger.
“Why are you here?” you ask, your voice softer than a whisper, carried away by the wind until it never existed at all.
Fyodor never disappears from your line of sight, even when you try to blink, to close your eyes. He’s there, gazing at you with a lustful fondness, one that’s dangerous, perhaps even malicious. If it’s a dream, it sure feels like a vivid one.
“You wanted to leave,” he says, taking your finger away from his face, before bringing it to his lips. The kiss is barely there, and his mouth is cold, chapped, from the brutality of the afterlife. “I couldn’t let you do that.”
“Hm?” You try to sit up. It takes more effort than it should’ve – you’re so relaxed, so weak, that you fall back down, letting yourself sink into the plushness of the pillow. “Why?”
Fyodor releases your hand, before touching his own finger to your mouth. It’s slender, like a piece of ice, gently parting your lips before grazing your chin, hovering over your neck. Then, he drops his touch to your collarbone. He stakes a claim on every inch of your skin, pausing as he reaches your chest, still covered by the blankets.
Your clothing is thin – it wouldn’t take much effort to get his cool hands on your bare skin. But he refrains, still smiling before answering your question, tucking his hands together onto his lap. “It’s been so long.”
It doesn’t make sense, but you can’t muster up the effort to question him, not when he’s contemplating every word, like he’s hesitant to scare you away. You let him think, watch him ponder, as you stare, too exhausted to move a muscle.
“I thought you’d be like all the rest,” he says, taking a seat next to you on the bed, nearly touching your hip. “They were nothing but filth, stains in these halls. It’s a crime for them to ever think that they belonged here. In my home.”
You blink. “It’s my home, too,” you say, suddenly filled with an immense amount of dread. It crawls up your neck, chokes you, and nothing leaves you but garbled sounds, as you panic.
Fyodor doesn’t move – there is no twitch in his features, as he watches you with disguised adoration, a kind you didn’t think a ghost capable of revealing. “Of course it is, darling,” he says, so softly, it could’ve been mistaken for kindness. Fyodor leans down, presses his cold, dead lips to your cheek, a kiss of death. “That’s why I couldn’t let you leave. It’s your home. You belong here.”
“Right,” you breath, steadying yourself, before nodding. “My home.” Once more, you gaze around the room, your eyes flicking over every surface. Things are exactly as you’d left them, nothing out of place. “With you?”
The ghost smiles, and reaches out to you, finally helping you into a seated position. Your neck is so stiff, in pain, and you roll it around, feeling nothing there when you expect shifting bones. “With me,” Fyodor confirms, running his icy fingertips across your throat, tangling them with your hair.
He leans into you, pressing a lingering kiss to your mouth, one that catches you off balance, before you accept it with an eagerness that surprises you further. It doesn’t feel unfamiliar, instead, it’s as if you’re coming home, like the man you’ve never seen until now was always meant to find you.
A thought that should’ve scared you, even though it doesn’t.
Fyodor pulls away, right as you begin to shift forward, maneuver yourself onto his lap. “You should rest,” he replies, keeping you at a distance. “It might take some time to adjust.”
“Hm? What do you mean?” you blink, holding onto his wrist as your gaze shifts from his impossibly dark eyes to the mirror across the room.
There, in the darkness of the evening, shrouded in moonlight, you can see your reflection staring back at you, eyes vacant, lifeless. You expect to see yourself as nothing but exhausted, but when you draw your gaze across the image of yourself, there is blood seeping from your neck, a stream of scarlet. There is thick gash across your throat, slashed so deep that it would’ve killed you instantly.
The expression on your face shifts from one of calm to horror, as you scrape at your neck, trying to clear off the blood that isn’t really there, the permanent wound that will follow you even into your death.
“What did you do?” you scream, tears rolling down your cheeks, even though you can’t feel them, can only see them in the mirror. “What did you do to me?”
Fyodor smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Though you fight against him, he takes you into his arms, and you are too weak to fight him off. “I told you,” Fyodor says, shushing you, running his palm over your head as you scream. “I couldn’t let you leave.”
thank you for reading !
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a request for Max Verstappen where you guys are cuddle in bed and can hear the kids and Jimmy and Sassy waking up to come to your room
✦ ۰ —ᣞ ⊹ ݁ ﹙ 🖇️ ﹚: mornings with max.
mornings with max are your favorite time of the day. as simple as that. you love the life you have with your kids, caring for them and spending the day at home doing the most of every day. but it can be chaotic, like most days are, and mornings are calm. mornings are for just you and him.
waking up early and staying in bed for as long as your kids will allow you is what you always do; with max’s arms wrapped around your body, holding you tightly against his chest. and today is no exception.
“want to stay here all day.” those are his first words, voice raspy and muffled by your hair.
“yeah? but we could, you know.” you turn to look at him with a small smile while lightly brushing his arm with the pad of your fingers. max’s eyes light up at finally seeing your face, as if he didn’t just fall asleep looking at you hours earlier. “we just need to make room for two little people.”
he snorts, helping you turn your body around to face him. “i love those two with my life, but i need some time alone with my wife.”
you lean closer to leave a chaste kiss on his lips, but then he’s grabbing you by the neck and forcing you to stay there. you’re more than happy to oblige.
however, you’re in the middle of making out when a sudden sound makes you pull away.
“i’m going,” max says, kissing your cheek. but before he can even begin to get up, you can hear one of your kids shushing the other one. “what are they doing?”
jimmy jumps on the bed, startling you both, followed closely by a very startled sassy.
“hey, buddy?” max is still holding you very close and tight, but you manage to scratch behind jimmy’s ears, making him purr and lean into your touch.
“i swear they love you more than me.” your husband groans, pouting just like your little ones do when they don’t get what they really want, like ice cream for breakfast. which is an issue every single morning.
“what can i say,” you shrug, sticking out your tongue at him. “everyone loves me.”
“yeah but no one more than me.” he’s still pouting and you really can’t help but touch his bottom lip with your thumb before kissing him.
“i don’t know. i think i need you to prove it.” you tease him and max is right there with you, mischief dancing in his ocean blue eyes.
but before he can even think on doing anything, the screaming and running outside the room makes you look at the two little angels with their pretty smiles and tiny feet coming your way. and as they jump on the bed, scaring the cats and forcing them to hide beneath the blankets, you know the moment is over.
“good morning you little devils, what were you doing, uh?” max takes the girl, floris, in his arms and she goes willingly, happy to be in her daddy’s arms.
“flo wanted ice cream,” her twin brother, bram, says while sliding in bed with you. “couldn’t find it.” and mirroring his father’s actions from before, he pouts, looking at you with those bright blue eyes and the most manipulative look on his face.
“mh, let’s see,” max doesn’t miss the warning look you give him, he chooses to ignore it. “if you can make jimmy and sassy eat all their food without making a mess, you can have some.”
both of them scream in excitement, jumping off the bed as quickly as possible while calling for the cats to follow them, which they do immediately.
“max!” you groan in frustration, but max just raises his hands in defense.
and as innocent as he can, he just says: “don’t blame me!” max tries to get out of bed without you noticing but you are one step ahead of him and before he has time to leave, you grab him by his shirt. “but schat! blame them and their little round and glassy eyes, they bought me!”
you know that whatever you do, they will have their ice cream for breakfast, max included. you just need to be prepared for three kids and two cats running like crazy around the house.
mornings. you wouldn’t trade them for anything.
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